#carixim

1. WIP snippet from The Blacksmith and The Fighter. This is for chapter 3 and for context Rosa, Astarion and Lae'zel are searching the nearby Shadowlands for supplies while Dammon is resting from his injuries. (I wrote this today.)

He says, "Well, you're no fun." She turns to him and asks, "You want to control others, like you were controlled?" He says, "No. I…I just don't want for us…for the others to have to struggle so much with keeping ourselves alive. Frankly I'm tired of sneaking around and making sure everyone lives." He starts to walk away. Rosa asks softly, "Now who isn't convincing, Star?" He stops quickly at the nickname, it always throws him off. He knows she doesn't harbor feelings for him but he can tell she genuinely cares about his well-being, and he doesn't know what to do with that. He says, "Fine, just more tadpoles for me." He scoffs and walks in a different direction as he searches for anything. Lae'zel suddenly appears from a nearby abandoned house, "What are you two chitchatting about? We need to find supplies or at least something we can trade for better supplies." She shifts a bag of items she is holding to her shoulders. Rosa smiles, "Looks like you found enough for all of us ." She says, "Could have found more if you too would stop yapping like dogs ." Rosa leans closer to Lae'zel, smiles and says, "Thank you for the reminder. We need to stay on task." Lae'zel coughs, "Yes, right." Astarion yells, "Over here. I found something. It's buried." Rosa pulls out a shovel and starts digging. He says, "I would help but I don't want to get my nails dirty." Rosa chuckles , "But, your white hair covered in blood is ok?!" He grins and teases, "Of course, it's blood. What about being a vampire don't you understand, darling?" Rosa grins to herself. She finally digs up a chest. "Of course its locked." She looks at Astarion and asks, "Would you oh mighty elven vampire use your talented skills to unlock this chest of unknown treasurers, please?" He chuckles and says, "Well, if you need help, of course. Besides there might be something I want to keep." Rosa steps away from the chest and watches Astarion carefully pick the lock. Once he has it open he steps aside. Rosa peers inside. She finds some arrows, coins, potions and an interesting magical necklace. She hands Astarion the arrows and a few coins, "For your talented help. Thank you!" She always makes a point to let him know he is a valued part of the team, more than a pretty face.

2. This is from The Blacksmith and The Fighter too, but later in Chapter 3 and Rolan is extremely drunk. (I wrote this 2 years or so ago)

Rolan says confidently “I…I will be fi..fine. I'm a great wizard after all." He abruptly starts yelling "Besides, I have to do something! I can't just sit around waiting for something to happen. I can't wait for you to decide you actually want to help someone! To actually do what you said you would do! Damn! Someone has to do something! Who the fuck knows what is going on or to them as you sit on your arse?!” Rosa says calmly “You haven't encountered anything like what is out there. You would be putting yourself at further risk. Regardless of anything, my camp is heading out tomorrow.” She takes a deep breath, steps closer to him and says as she tries to put her hand on his shoulder to reassure him “Rolan, your siblings will be ok….” Rolan interrupts her as he pulls away and yells “You don't know that! You don't know what is happening to them right now! While you wait and do nothing! We all know the real reason you haven't left, it's that damn blacksmith that you are sweet on. He is a distraction! You are only thinking about yourself!" Rosa sighs and continues as she avoids talking about Dammon “Though, if your siblings come back and you are not here then you put yourself in danger. They would needlessly be worried about you then.”  Rolan asks with a grin “Worried about not being the only hero anymore? Worried I might be better at it then you?! You only care about yourself!” Rosa says “Like I have tried to tell you…I never asked for any of this. I'm just trying to do my best. I have experience in combat and tough situations like this. If that helps others, then I'm going to help. I need to be prepared for this instead of going head long without what I need. To keep everyone safe and to rescue everyone, I need to have a plan and enough items together to make it possible.” Rolan asks “How much combat can one measly one armed elf really have?! I bet your party carries your weight because you are incapable of taking care of yourself, let alone helping others.”  Rosa whispers slowly through gritted teeth “You know nothing of what I've been through. What I've lost…” She looks up at Rolan and says more firmly “Don't presume to know and don't presume to know me.”

3. WIP snippet from Fire, Ash and Metal. Chapter 4 is complete except for a few edits. Hopefully I will finally post it this month. This snippet might be violent to some, I tried to keep the more violent parts out but it is a horror story. This chapter is where Dammon finally meets Carixim and starts being a blacksmith.

The devils continue to hold Dammon against the stone slab as he hears Carixim's heavy footsteps come towards him. He glances up at him and Carixim grins, "In Baator, everyone hears you scream...at least once." He leans closer to him and continues, "Still feeling lucky, boy?" He starts laughing, it sounds more like a deep rumble. Dammon feels Carixim's hand on the burn. At this point he is certain he was branded with a similar design as the dead man. He feels heat wrap around it and attach to him, embedding into his body, dread fills his soul. He can hear Carixim chanting words he doesn't understand. *Possibly a ritual. What is he doing?* He feels ragged energy hooks weaving into his body and trying to attach to his being. A force seems to keep it from completely taking hold, only enough to satisfy Carixim. He feels his green bandana in his pants flare in heat as if it was magically protecting his soul. He feels heavier, weighted down in emotions. For a brief instance, he feels the thousands of souls surrounding him. When Carixim is finished he steps away from him and admires the brand on him. He says, "Turned out nicely." The devils release Dammon and he stands up. He breathes heavily trying to sub do the pain. He wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. His skin feels scorched as he tries to move. He has never endured any similar pain before. Carixim stares at him and continues, "You are now soul bonded to me. That brand will make sure your soul is mine and once you are dead you will become a part of me with the rest." Dammon feels a wave of distress run through him and he shivers. He feels dread surrounding him and he breathes heavily. He doesn't want this. He doesn't want any of this. He wants to run, far far away from here. Though, he knows that is impossible. He is stuck here until his possible rescue, because in death he would never be able to leave. Carixim notices his distress and says, "It won't happen today. Plus it keeps you safe from other devils because you are marked as mine, boy. And, don't you ever forget that." Dammon stands there, realizing completely for the first time that his life is over. He is no longer in control of his own life. Everything he has ever known gone. His life is no longer his own. Only the pain running throughout his body reminds him that he is still alive. *Whatever life it could be?*

Carixim waves for Dammon to come closer and instructions, "Pick up the hammer and show me what you know." Dammon does as told as he sees a piece of metal on a different slab of stone nearby and picks up the hammer next to it. He has never worked with metals before, not like this. He only has crafted delicate and intricate candlesticks, sometimes other items like wind chimes. He has never made a piece of armor or weapon. Carixim's eyes narrow as he looks at the others nearby and says with a deep growl, "Get back to work! Unless you would like to sub come to the same fate sooner than later." Dammon runs his fingers over the metal. It is warm to the touch and rough from wear. He feels sparks and a surge, almost electric like lightning, run through him wildly. It felt as though it was alive. He runs his thumb over the groves as he picks it up to examine it. The piece of metal appears to be a breastplate. He whispers to himself, "You are beautiful." He sets it down slowly. He feels the surge relaxing as if it heard him. He smiles and whispers, "I will make you whole again." He runs his open palm over the metal. It seems to calm up to a light tingle. His heart is racing, he has never felt so exhilarating before.

4. WIP snippet from Master Rolan: A Private Audience. This is in the last chapter of the fic that is already written. I need to write 2 more chapters before it.

No pressure tags: @wasteful-sam @alwaysmauria @charmedtenderness @kimberbohwrites @tavyliasin @dramatiquechipmunk @nw39 @suffering-is-fun @bitten-by-astarion

Dammon had lost track of time; it was well past midnight as he hammered adjustments into a metal saddle frame against a weathered mandrel. Not that marking the hour mattered much here; the gears of Avernus ground eternally, with or without him. Even so, the tiefling blacksmith relished the dull thud of his mallet as he fine-tuned the piece; it was a rare day in Carixim’s forge when Dammon was required—or even allowed—to indulge in artistry. For months—had it really only been a few months since the Descent?—he had repaired a never-ending stream of damaged arms for Blood War soldiers: blunted swords, dented shields, split helmets. Yes, he had to do the work—under threat of grievous punishment—but in each broken weapon, he saw a chance to improve. If he ever did get out of here, very few others in Faerûn would be able to claim his mastery of infernal iron…

The thought stayed his hand. He wiped the sweat from his brow with a gloved forearm and heaved a sigh into the bandana protecting his mouth and nose. Faerûn . Would keeping his head down and his eyes forward be enough to keep him safe until he could get out of Avernus?— if he could get out of Avernus? Don’t dwell on it , he urged himself. Focus on what’s in front of you.

Dammon lifted his protective goggles to inspect his work—a few wrinkles still. He frowned, replaced his goggles, and reheated the saddle over a bed of hot coals. With some pliability restored, Dammon set to hammering again. The rhythm of his breathing in concert with the movement of his body eased his mind; his thoughts became a steady flow of background noise, and they drifted to other matters.

Dorgan steps in front of Dammon, looks up at Carixim and strongly states, "Payment first. Our deal is you give me soul coins and a recommendation." The Titan in front of him is much bigger than him, but he isn't going to let his size intimate him.

Carixim chuckles amused by his stupidity, "You will get your payment when I know he's worth it." He tilts his head towards Dammon. 

Dammon isn't sure how he can hear Carixim's voice over the many moaning souls trapped under his skin. Either his voice is booming enough to be heard over them or its psychotics. 

Dorgan steps closer to him and growls, "I'm not leaving empty handed. You might be bigger than me, but I have ways that can poison you with excruciating pain, even for one of your stature." He tilts his head further up so Carixim can see the snakes slithering from his chin, waiting to bite anything that comes nearby. They could harm even a gigantic being like Carixim.

Dammon watches the interaction closely. He knows he can determine how to approach this situation by studying how Carixim reacts. Carixim chuckles and says as he tosses Dorgan a coin, "A deal is a deal. You will receive the rest when you have brought me the agreed upon number of mortals that can actually work a forge."

Dorgan catches the coin in the air and says, "Understood." He figures he has made his point and he knows he can't push Carixim too far, too many devils would support him. Plus he would be putting himself in further danger, knowing what Carixim is capable of doing.

Dammon figures these coins are what they are calling soul coins. He can hear a faint moaning and rushing of air coming from the one tossed to Dorgan. Though, nothing compared to the souls trapped in Carixim. They must be made of souls and a type of currency for the devils here. He shudders at the implications. 

Dorgan turns and takes a few steps away, towards Dammon, before turning back around. He says, "Oh, I almost forgot the Archduchess has a message for you." 

Carixim asks with a grin, "Does she still have the portal hidden under her citadel through hallways that are almost impassable for normal mortals, because she doesn't want me using my portal to appear in her citadel?" 

Dorgan answers, "You should have more respect for her. She is Archduchess over Avernus, appointed by Asmodeus himself." 

Carixim says plainly, "All I care about is creating with infernal metals. Here, I can do that." 

Dorgan says, "She isn't afraid of you, you know?” 

Carixim grins, crosses his arms and asks, "What is the message that our oh fearless leader Archduchess Zariel has for insignificant me?" He isn't about to take the bait of talking badly about her. He knows Dorgan would run to tell her in hopes of it making him look good. He doesn't care much, it only would make his life more difficult than it already is. 

Dorgan says, "She wants you to arm the Generals first." 

He raises an eyebrow and asks, "ls that all?" 

Dorgan says, "Yes, though she doesn't seem happy with Bel's progress."

Carixim says, "Of course not. That's simple enough of an order." He pauses and continues with a grin, "Bel is much better at leading than maintaining a forge." 

Dorgan asks, "Better than Archduchess Zariel?" *Maybe Zariel would be willing to help him if he gave her some information.*

Carixim looks at Dorgan with contempt and says firmly, "You better leave before I take my soul coin back." 

Dorgan's eyes narrow and says, "I will be back with more. There is a whole city for me to scour through."

His eyes cut to Dammon and he grabs his arm roughly as he says through gritted teeth, "You better do your job well or I will..."

Dammon takes a step back, trying to avoid Dorgan's beard and trying to remain calm. As he glances at Carixim, he knows he is watching him as intently too. He takes deep breaths.

Carixim chuckles and says harshly, "He isn't yours to order around anymore. You test my patience with you and soon l'm going to throw you off this flying fortress, agreement be damned. Now GO!"

Dorgan releases Dammon's arm and grumbles, "Fine." He stomps off towards the portal they appeared through moments go, leaving Dammon alone with Carixim.

Dammon turns his attention to the Titan in front of him and he swallows hard. He waits for Carixim to say something. It's hard for him to imagine this is his life now, and that it is no longer in his control.