#queenverdigris

Vashael didn’t often get to play tourist outside of his mother’s borders.

He traveled often, but it was always for work, or business and occasionally the end of the world. He never got to wander through local markets in cities he didn’t know, lost on streets he could barely pronounce, wondering which one of the many, many handicrafts he still had enough coin for. He rarely had so much free time as to get well and truly lost - and yet there he was, anyway, far from any landmark signs or buildings he may have recognized as being nearby the place he and his friends were staying that week.

The dark-haired man cast his eyes around the marketplace, wondering if it would be worth the time to try and retrace his steps, or if he should simply ask for directions. Michael would forgive him if he were late getting back, but Naoka might not...and he had promised her that he’d be back before it got too late. Looking around, his eyes were drawn toward a woman with some of the reddest hair he’d ever seen, standing beside a nearby stall, and he made up his mind.

Mirian stared into the dark gash of the cave in the side of the mountain. She’d have liked to say that she was just catching her breath, but it would have been a lie; she’d been standing there for several minutes now, and her breath had long since evened out, sweat drying cold and clammy on her skin in the brisk mountain breeze. 

She was still exhausted, her legs trembling and achy, her head spinning slightly, and the scuffs on her hands stinging where she clutched her makeshift walking stick. But… while Mirian might be new to this whole “climbing a mountain” thing, even she didn’t think that any of those things were going to change just from spending a few extra minutes standing still.

    No. The truth of it was that while all of this had seemed like a brilliant and defiant plan at the start, it was quite another thing to have actually succeeded at it; to be quite literally staring into the black depths of the dragon’s den, the smell of sulfur sharp in her nose.

    Her parents hadn’t caught her. They hadn’t sent anyone to catch her.

    No one on the path here had stopped her, either—though, admittedly, she’d done her best not to draw attention to herself.

    And now it was just Mirian, and the cave, and maybe a dragon, and she didn’t want to think about it but she was scared. 

    But she was more scared of going back, and that thought made her furious. Mirian grit her teeth and stomped into the cave. She couldn’t hear any movement, and the dim light wasn’t doing her already terrible vision any favors, but the soft scuff of her feet and the flow of air around her meant that she could feel just how immense the space was. If the dragon actually needed all this room, it must be enormous.

“You look tired. Are you sure you don’t need a break?”

Tiyeri was starting to get the feeling that she’d been duped.

It wasn’t the first client who had complained about this alchemist guy... Chr--something? It was a long name, she hadn’t bothered to remember it. After the first couple of rants about worrying explosions, weird noises, and so on, however, she had finally decided to check it out on someone’s behalf. Technically, noise complaints were enough to bring someone in, right?

The Tabaxi felt like a damn town guard, not a bounty hunter. Still, she didn’t want to ruin her reputation by refusing on the grounds of ‘this is a stupid thing to hire me for,’ so she swallowed her pride and took the job. Fortunately, they knew where the alchemist’s house was.

     The old dragon had figured it was a good day to lounge outside his desert den, bringing a few of his books along with him, which was a bit of a comical sight. The half blind blue really looked like a character from a children’s story, putting out the books far to small for his huge hands and adjusting a monocle on his good eye to actually read the tiny little tomes.

     Once he was comfortable, he cleared his throat and began to read aloud. He figured why not? It wasn’t like anyone else was around....

Send in a ♦ for me to randomly talk about one of my other D&D characters not featured on this blog.

┍     Two cents and then his fingers wriggled, he plucked those strings and belched a giggle. He tapped his foot, howled like a hound Igniting up the unholy sound.

And I ain't never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, heard anything so great.

[The Suspender Man]                                                     ┙            

Moving on isn’t always easy. The shadows of the past have a bad habit of haunting us, tormenting us, gnawing at our souls ‘til they have eaten up whatever part we managed to salvage when we turned our back on them. So what do we do? We run faster, we hide better, and if that doesn’t work we might decide to turn around and face them.

Or, well, you could also grow some serious muscle, harnest the forces of darkness and become a creature so rough, powerful and scary that the past is better off running and hiding from you.

Meet: Samy

Armed with only his lute, some coin and an oozing amount of charisma, Samy abandoned his old existence for a life on the road and an unending hunger for more. While his musical talent has earned him some money and quite a few fans, the old city guard did not find himself satisfied with the cute little tricks his bardic magic bestowed upon him, oh no. He wanted more. He wanted fame, he wanted power, and - if in any way possible - he wanted to live forever. And if making a shady deal with a strange swamp witch could get him there, then no thoughts would be wasted before shaking that gnarled hand.

A lot has changed since then. From the sneaky weasel named Dexter, who makes crawling through dark and ancient caves on the hunt for magic treasure a lot less dangerous and lonely, to the new eery quality of his music that seems so draw people in at an almost hypnotic level - at least for now, Samy has yet to see the downside of his new business arrangement. Life ain’t perfect, but what else is new? As long as we can avoid talking about our feelings or what drove us into this place, there is only one way: Forward.

Name: Samy (Za-mi), last name n/a Age: 48 Race: Human Class: Bard/Warlock (Patron: The Undying, Pact of the Chain) Background: City Watch

a bit rough around the edges, but a genuinely amicable, fun-loving and charming kind of guy who will prank you if he gets the chance

here to party, always up for a friendly or not-so-friendly tavern brawl

anger management issues

a very individual, almost slap-style of playing his lute

fights dirty

slowed aging due to his pact boon, also does not require to eat, drink, breathe or sleep

has not cut his hair in twenty years

father of a teenage son

Honestly, so far Ford was loving this dimension, it reminded him a lot of his favourite game, Dungeons, Dungeons and More Dungeons. It was a nice change in pace from the more recent dimensions he’d been through. The last had left him with a nasty scar and bitter taste in his mouth. He’d like to avoid dimension 97 for the rest of his life.

Now, he just needs to get his bearings.