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Glimmers in the Penumbra A Tabletop Roleplay OC Drabble Collection

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Embodied

The snow feels wrong. It mushes against the strange pliant dough stretched across her soles, shoots her through with a kind of pain she's never felt before. It bites, metallic, as though she can feel the pinprick of each shard of each snow flake. The air, too, grips her. All of this, wrong. Never before had the winds caused her pain, nor had snow felt anything but pleasant on even her tenderest scales. Winter has abandoned her. It was in her very weft and now all she has is this naked pink putty. No way for a dragon to live.

Dia Istehar

[Includes an illustration of Dia holding herself in a gust of snow and wind.]

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L’Enfer

Fire's heat. Warms, tickles, crisps. Pleasure becomes pain. Sears, destroys, consumes. Ashes to ashes.

Vous qui entrez, abandonnez toute espérance.

No way to snuff a forest fire once it's caught hot and tall, naught but to let the blaze run out. A heart is like that. A little fire you can throw water over, but the burn in him grows fast. All you can do is get out the way.

Watch for smoke.

What's a flame want? Nothing but to burn. Bright and hot, alive until it's out. Doesn't care what's burning, where or how. But a man's heart? Well.

L’Enfer - The Inferno Vous qui entrez, abandonnez toute espérance. - Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.

Ozias DeVir

[Includes an illustration of Ozias lighting a cigarette.]

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Song of the Princess

She is come from a castle in a far away land, from a lineage ruling for generations.

Hath traveled the lands in great odyssey, and suffered many a hardship and poverty.

O Princess, Sweetest Briar with thorns sharp, stand strong against despair. Nobility is not in gold but in heart and deed and bearing. Retain thy grace and thy dignity. Fear not the dark and the wicked, for thou art puissant. Magic courseth through thy veins as fish in a stream.

Know that one day thou wilt reclaim thy birthright. So sayeth this poem, written in serenade of a princess.

Briar Allaire

[Includes an illustration of Briar, regal in a crown.]

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Idle Musing

Life should be fun. Things would be far too boring without a bit of mischief to keep it interesting, ya know? Just a dash like spice in the stew. Nothing serious, maybe swipe a shiny here or snack there.

Things can change pretty fast out on the road though. It gets scary out there, with monsters and bad guys. Sometimes I think I should have just stayed home.

But hey, one minute you're strumming along up and down the strings of a bouzouki, tickling the melody to and fro, and bam! Out comes the zouka. Didn't expect that, didja spookies?

Kaapro

[Includes an illustration of Kaapro, a Kenku, smiling and playing a bouzouki.]

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Sacrament

"Go and sin no more."

The other man, the one on the other side of the wooden screen, knows what a joke it is. He says it anyway, and manages not to laugh. It's procedure after all.

A rosary and an extra Our Father. A man's life snuffed out, his blood on the stone, and all Lucere needs to do is mumble some words.

Done in God's name, isn't it a Holy act?

And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.

Deliverance won't come, but so too will he sin again. He always has and always will.

Lucere Crough

[Includes an illustration of Lucere holding a rosary in his hand, covering half of his face.]

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Just World Fallacy

Let us consider the situation rationally. Which situation is more likely?

The first, that I was conceived by two emotionally stunted people unprepared for the maturity, care, and mundane sacrifices of parenthood? That I lived at the whims of a man who took out rage and fear on his vulnerable son? That my mother could bring me into the world but shrink my existence so small in her heart that she could ignore it? That suffering is largely beyond our control and the world is fundamentally unfair?

Or that I am unloveable and it's my fault?

The answer is obvious.

Pinion Andolus

[Includes an illustration of Pinion where you cannot see his face, gazing at unbalanced scales.]

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Knight in Shining Armor

My face mirrored in a gleaming scale. I chased it like the glint of oasis after days walking parched sands. Was it a mirage? I follow its path and come no closer, but the image does not fade. Still there, out of reach, ever on the horizon.

What is she really like? I've imagined her on the highest pedestal, with every sublime virtue, and in the deepest depravity, with every foul cruelty. Perhaps she is simply a well-meaning fool, doing her best.

Do I truly want to know? Would the mirage dissolve, and would that be for good or ill?

Okaara Justa

[Includes an illustration of Okaara, a half-orc, gazing at her own reflection in a piece of plate armor.]

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寝袋詰め 心の準備 と出かける

「一緒に」

romaji reading: shurafuzume kokoro no junbi to dekakeru

「issho ni」

The bedrolls are wrapped. Ready for what awaits them, the party sets forth.

[Together]