The Will of the Rift @ezekind - Tumblr Blog

gavrileontidis:

The spark of recognition catches him off guard; Gavril isn’t used to running into people by chance. Often they end up wanting something, but he can’t imagine what Ezekiel Kind might need from the likes of him. They shared a drink once, he remembers, in a grimy tavern close to the city’s port, though it was cut short by a brawl quickly followed by the city watch, and Gavril had had to slip away. The memory brings a small smile to his lips, and he nods at them. “We should finish that drink,” he says. “Some odds that we’re both alive and well.”

Although he shouldn’t speak too soon. Lights, they might not be by the time they clear the ferry. Gavril ventures a first step onto the ferry, keen to prove his mettle to Ezek, and it bobs dangerously with his weight. The bellowing from below decks seems to swell. He grips the gunwale and hopes he doesn’t look too green. “Best of luck,” the captain calls from the docks, though there’s a note of despair in her voice.

Nothing for it. He stops at the top of the stairs that descend below decks, mace in hand. “I can do something for the poison,” he says to Ezek over his shoulder. "Protection spell, but I’ll need to touch you for it. As for the rest - well, the seas are your balliwick. Maybe we can send the creatures back where they came from.”

“We’ll see what we can do,” they say, with one last nod to the captain before she retreats back along the dock, away from the boat, and the look on her face doesn’t instill him with much confidence about what they’re going to find once they step aboard. And then they follow Gavril out and onto the ferry, slowing their pace as they watch Gavril find his footing, shift his weight to account for the gentle sway of the ferry in the lapping waves. The noise coming from belowdecks grows louder, a strange chorus of high-pitched wailing that makes them wonder just what they’ve gotten themself into.

They set their hand on the pistol at their belt, exchanging a look with Gavril as he turns back to them. A protection spell for the poison sounds like a wise idea, so neither of them ends up like the vomiting sailor who last attempted this, and so they nod, permission for Gavril to cast his spell.

“It sounds like it’d be worth having something to put between us and them, while we’re at it,” they add, glancing around for a moment and settling upon the lid of a barrel that’s clearly been used primarily as a seat, in addition to storing ropes and nets. They pick it up, toss it to Gavril, and then find another, holding it in front of them like a shield. The mace Gavril is holding will mean he’ll have to get in closer than they will, but they’re hoping the pistol will be able to create some space for him to close the distance.

“I’ll go in first, clear the way for you to take out as many as you can,” they say, and seas, they wish they knew what exactly they were going to find on the other side of that door, other than poison being spat their way.

#( &. gavril )#( &. catelia )

wyndomkind:

He knows that it annoys Ezek when he does this, when he makes them wait, but he likes watching the impatience that flashes across their face even when they don’t verbalize it, the slight frown that creases well worn lines across their forehead. There’s no need for it here, really, except that he likes doing it. It’s a simple proposition when it comes down to it, and an easy thing to decide on an answer to. Funny, how the choice to pick up and join a group of strangers is an easy yes or no now, when making the choice to change his entire life, offer even a hint of trust to those he doesn’t know would have been unfathomable not too long ago, before Ezek. Nothing feels quite so daunting as long as Ezek is there, choices are simple enough, when they include them. Which is why this is simple. If Ezek isn’t interested, then he isn’t either, no need for debate in his mind.

When the point is finally made, Wyn can’t help the way he watches them for any indication of what they might be thinking about the possibility. He had never heard of the group before, but that’s no surprise, Bleaklow something of an isolationist realm, only venturing out to defeat the enemies the Lord in the ice commands, or those that threaten the icy peace of the land. But he wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve heard of them, considering the extend of their travels.

“They’re adventurers, they travel wherever there’s potential for work and coin, follow leads they pick up where they are,” he explains with a small shrug. He’s well aware that it’s not so different from what they’ve been doing, moving around, taking the work they can with their particular skill sets. But a group provides security in a way that the two of them traveling alone can’t no matter how capable they both are, especially along costal towns only, where it’s just as likely they’ll run into enemies as friendly connections. And a group provides opportunity.

“If we join them, we can leave whenever we find a place we like enough to stay…or once we have enough saved for a ship, a good ship, of our own.”

The problem is that Wyn is right. He usually is. It would be different, if he was so certain of himself and wasn’t right, but he generally makes sound decisions, ones that are the best for both of them, all things considered. Ezek trusts him, trusts Wyn with their life, and if Wyn thinks this is a good decision, thinks they can join this Gambit and save some money and find somewhere they like enough to stay, then Wyn is almost certainly right about that. They’re sure his god has told him as much, too—and there’s always been something compelling about that, to Ezek, the idea of having a god who tells you when they approve. Ze’karzen only ever showed: if you had her favor, you made it across the Rift in one piece, and they had crossed the Rift more times than they could count.

But the idea of it still unsettles something in their chest. They don’t know which way this group is traveling, but there are only so many options for where they might be going, if they’re looking for work: south to Kredia, which would be the best option; north, through the desert; or inland. And they cannot ignore how uneasy it makes them, the idea of leaving the coast, of moving away from the world they know, the water, the shore.

It isn’t that they’ve never been inland. Of course they have, though it has been admittedly rare. Their people came from the water; they do best, around it. Within sight of the sea. Maybe it’s more superstition than it is fact, but they worry; the idea of trekking through a desert alongside a misfit group of travelers feels like anathema to them. They let their conflicted feelings play out across their face, as they think it through, working bit by bit through the benefits, contrasting them against the detriments.

“I don’t love the idea of giving up control over where we go,” they admit, after a moment. And then, as they so often do, they concede, too: “But if you trust them, if you think it’s a good idea, it can’t be that much worse than what we’ve been doing.”

#( &. wyndom )#( &. catelia )

wyndomkind:

Perhaps he shouldn’t be quite so thrilled with the prospects he’s found, when they’re vague at best, and perhaps a trap at worst, but there was no denying the sign of not one, but two encounters so close together, the faint hum in his ear telling him that the Lord in the Ice sees a path forward here, if he takes it. The first sign of anything Ulegelu has offered since arriving on the island, too far from the ice, too warm, city too focused on the affairs of the few elite. More importantly, though, he thinks this is something that would be as good for Ezek as it is for him. Nothing will give them back all they’ve lost, but in the absence of a ship, a crew, there are other possibilities, this one being one he certainly hopes they may find intriguing.

It’s late when he finally makes it back to the room, and he only makes it a step into the room, greeting not even leaving his mouth as he takes off his hat, shakes his hair, droplets of water scattering in the warmth, before Ezek notices. Wyn rolls his eyes fondly, takes his sweet time making them wait, as they try to get him to speak, to hang hat and jacket up carefully before looking back at them, perching on the edge of the desk in the corner.

“I’ve found us structure. Or, more of it, anyway; I think, perhaps, I could give them more of it with some work, tighten the proverbial ship,” he explains, with a wave of his hand. Ideas are already turning over in his mind, but that’s not the point here. He may long for the organization that he misses so desperately from commanding a fleet of ships, but that doesn’t matter if Ezek isn’t interested in joining up with a group of very disparate, so-called adventurers ranging from the little he’s seen from cursed giant from too close to home and young, but sweet druid, to apparently fallen prince, or something of that sort? Unclear.

Perhaps it’s not as much structure as he’s making it out to be. But he’s always enjoyed a challenge.

“Well, it’s better than this uncertainty, at least,” he concedes. “A group of travelers. The King’s Gambit, they call themselves.”

There’s a way of talking that Wyn has, one that Ezek’s grown far more than used to: he takes a while to get to the point, like he’s working himself up to whatever he’s planning on saying rather than just saying it straight out. Justifies himself before telling you what he wants to tell you. When they first met, Ezek had found it endlessly annoying; they’d been used to people like them, who would just tell it to you straight, no politicking or moralizing or anything like that. Now, though—especially separated from the structure and government that Wyn had been a part of back then—they see it as something more like an endearing, if at times exasperating, quirk. Just another piece of what made Wyn who he was.

But right now, it’s killing them, the waiting for him to spit it out, and watching him as he hangs his hat and coat at the door, Ezek can tell he knows that it is.

They frown, just slightly, as they wait for him to come out with it, as he goes on about structure, as he starts talking like Ezek is already supposed to know what he bloody means, but they don’t say anything, don’t press him on it, and finally, as he always does, he says it, and—The King’s Gambit. It sounds familiar, the name, though it takes him a second to place it, to connect it to something Gavril had said, while they were fighting off an infestation of poisonous amphibians, something about a group of adventurers traveling together for safekeeping. At the time, it hadn’t exactly sounded optimal, to them. But... there is a look of such hope on Wyn’s face, as he says it.

“The King’s Gambit,” they repeat slowly, deliberately. From the way Wyn has said it, they get the sense that this is already decided; they just need a moment to get used to the idea, before they follow his lead.

“And where are these people traveling to?”

#( &. wyndom )#( &. catelia )

Dev Patel

TYA VARMA

Though she is not their god, Ezek holds a great deal of respect for Vermir, god of blood and mothers, sister-god to their own Ze’karzen. This respect led, long ago, to a deal: sometimes, Vermir’s disciples need passage across the Rift, and when they do, the Cruel Return provides it. Ezek met Tya twice: the first time, he was a child, twenty-odd years ago, a refugee, being escorted back to the Bloodstone Temple in Haelion by a stern-faced servant of Vermir; the second, he was the one doing the escorting, alongside a young Adrik Odol, the two sent off on a pilgrimage to rescue an endangered child in the name of the god of blood and mothers.

#( asks )#wren I remembered you doing this delightful dev character and just HAD to keep continuity #big heart eyes

Katheryn Winnick

NOVAKRI “NOVA” OF JÖRD

A Kalashtar from a small, secluded settlement in the mountains of Lolander, Nova ventured out into the world after the death of her father and eventually ended up at the Rift, offering work in exchange for passage. Admiring her forthrightness and determination, Ezek accepted the offer—though when they arrived in Haelion, she decided instead to stay. Over the course of several years with the crew, Nova became one of the most trusted members of Ezek’s crew, and eventually their first mate. Today, she is captain of The Cruel Return, and they haven’t seen her since the mutiny she lead against them.

#( asks )#just casually using your old worldbuilding dani

taika waititi

RECTOR SAI ESK OF THE QUICKSILVER TEMPLE

Head rector of one of the many temples along the outskirts of Urnundr, Sai Esk used the temple as a cover for their real business: the smuggling of a particularly potent brand of Shael moonshine illegal to buy or sell on either continent because of its use of some rather... controversial ingredients. Esk’s temple was always one of Ezek’s first stops in Urnundr, as he paid extremely well for several crates of the stuff whenever Ezek was traveling through Shael and willing to bring some along for the ride.

#( asks )

goliath and changeling !

talk about the most dangerous experience you’ve ever had.

“We had to outrun a kraken once. They’re rare, these days. I’ve only ever seen the one, but even then—some people hear stories and think, oh, I’d fight it, how hard could it be? But when you’re face to face with one, when you comprehend the size of it, compared to you, or your ship, or whatever guns you’ve got, you know there’s no choice but to run until it gets bored of you and find someone else to crush.”

share a childhood memory.

“A childhood memory? ... Alright, well. I don’t remember when this was, exactly, or where, except that it had to have been somewhere near Shael. Usually when there was a storm, my dad would send me belowdecks, to keep an eye, make sure we weren’t taking on water. I’m sure he was just trying to keep me out of the way so I wouldn’t fall overboard, or send somebody else overboard. But one night, we had a storm, and my mother was sick, and since she normally handled the ropes, he needed a hand, and so I stayed. Drenched to the bone, the wind as strong as anything. Waves twice my height splashing up onto the deck, tall enough you could practically see the fish in them before they broke. My father shouting orders, me running fast as I could to follow them. What I remember most clearly is the color of the sky, the deepest blue I’ve ever seen, so blue it was nearly black. I’ve never quite seen a sky like it again.”

#( asks )#rip @ roman for asking me the exact same ones SOZ

🍃 & 💁🏿

is there something you would die to protect?

“There’s a saying on the Rift, one I grew up hearing, one I told every person who ever joined my crew: if you wouldn’t be willing to die for the person standing next to you, get off the boat. It’s not quite the same, on land; sure, things will kill you but you aren’t as reliant on the people you choose to stand beside. So I wouldn’t die for any member of this weird little band of adventurers, but there are one or two.”

what do you feel is your greatest weakness?

“I don’t have a lot of patience for small talk.”

#( asks )

🌳 elf

what do you like to rest and relax?

“I like to sit somewhere where I can hear the water and have a pint. Quietly.”

#( asks )

a room above a tavern in the merdociara, Catelia, late ( @wyndomkind )

They make it back to the room before Wyn does. A long day’s work patching up ships on the docks that had thankfully ended somewhere before dinner, so they’d come back and eaten, gone back up to the room they’d been renting and pulled one of Wyn’s books out of his things, absently flipping through it to kill the time. It isn’t really interesting at all; they keep losing track of where they are on the page as the words drift by them. They’ve never been a big reader, still haven’t managed to pick up the habit even with Wyn around, despite their best efforts. But it’s as good a way to kill the evening as any.

Still they’re all too eager to set it down when they hear the key in the lock and the door push open. They set the book down beside the bed and sit up, watching Wyn as he makes his way into the room, and wonder vaguely how late it actually is.

“I know that look,” they say, when he’s finally closed the door behind him and turned to face them. They arch an eyebrow in his direction, appraising. Taking a moment to read him, his familiar expression, familiar body language, trying to guess at where he’s been and what he’s been up to. Trusting that whatever it is that he’s about to tell them, it will be better than staying here patching up ships on the docks.

“Come on, out with it. What have you gotten us into this time?”

#( &. wyndom )#( &. catelia )

gavrileontidis

THE DOCKS / DAY TWO, CATELIA / @ezekind

The ferry bobs gently on the waves, a picturesque white-grey boat against the white-grey foam of waves. Gavril has never been on a boat, and would be rather happy going his entire life without setting foot on one. But duty calls - and by duty, he means an acceptable amount of tal and their journey off the island of Catelia. As much as he prefers it to Fahryst, the endless politicking and blood-red rivers are hardly attractive for an extended stay.

The rhythmic lapping of waves against the underside of the ferry is soothing, though punctuated by the occasional croak from below decks. On its transom, painted in thick black strokes is its name: the Venerabile, for the noble families of Catelia. Its captain, Luca Attara, looks down at it mournfully. “Quite the tragedy, isn’t it? What if the Venerabile never sails again?” She wrings her hands anxiously as she looks to Gavril. “I asked anyone I could find.”

Can’t have been that many people, Gavril thinks. He’s the only one there on the boardwalk in the early-morning fog; an especially ominous bellowing noise rumbles out from the ferry, and he fiddles with the strap of his satchel. Keeping promises to anyone other than Lisaya is always risky. “I’ll certainly try, Captain. But I still think you should’ve called a real exterminator. Could you tell me something of the creatures?”

She shakes her head, clearly despondent. “Nothing more than I’ve already said, traveller. I’m afraid you’re my only hope - why, hello!” Suddenly the captain’s face brightens, and Gavril hears approaching footsteps, turns to see a figure moving towards them in the fog. Another poor sod roped into a fool’s errand. “You’re quite the sight for sore eyes,” Gavril calls, a moment before recognising the person before him.

ezekind

They’ve been coming down to the docks just about every day since they arrived in Catelia with Wyn. Helping to repair ships, hauling cargo, the kind of unglamorous work they grew up on, not particularly exciting, but enough to get by, to make a few tal, pay for the room they’ve been staying in, pay for food and supplies. Meet a few people—though the sailors that come into Catelia’s harbor are all either deeply unambitious or have an impressive death wish and nowhere in between, so they don’t imagine they’ll find anyone particularly useful here.

The captain of the ferry is one of the deeply unambitious sort, a career woman settled in the fact that Catelia will always need a ferry, and there’s something respectable about that even if it isn’t the kind of life Ezek can ever see themself not hating. But she’s kind, and needs help, and is wealthy enough to pay, and that’s about all they know: I need someone to help, she’d said, and handed them a bag of tal and they’d promised to meet her down on the docks.

The half-orc standing by her side as they make their way over, however, is a surprise they hadn’t been expecting. A familiar face, among the orderly chaos of an island so far from home.

“Well, well,” they say, looking Gavril up and down. “Last place I would’ve expected to see you turn up again.” There’s a hint of a smile behind their usual gruff demeanor. It’s been a long time, since they’ve seen one another, and Gavril looks better than Ezek would have expected he’d look, given the state he was in the last time.

They turn their attention back to the ferry captain: if Gavril’s helping with whatever this is, there will be time for small talk—or, time to avoid it—later. She turns to them, too, a note of surprise in her expression at the apparent familiarity between the two people she’s hired to—do whatever it is she needs done.

“Right,” she says. “I was just explaining, I don’t precisely know what they are, but one of my sailors went in to find out and came out unable to keep the contents of his stomach down. The medics say he’s been poisoned. If the ferry can’t sail by nightfall, I’m through. Someone else will start taking passengers back to the mainland, and that’ll be it for me.”

#( &. gavril )#( &. catelia )

thelaughing-deactivated20250616

d&d ask meme →

[[ inbox either the emoji or race name to ask one or more of the following ]]

✨ aasimar: What do you find to be your most unique characteristic? 🔮 changeling: Share a childhood memory. 🐉 dragonborn: Give at least (one) unpopular opinion on something. 🗻 dwarf: Talk about a skill you either know or would like to learn! 🌳 elf: What do you like to rest and relax? 🍃 firbolg: Is there something you would die to protect? 🔥 genasi: Share a memory in which you felt truly empowered. 🦎 gith: Have you ever lost a relationship over a conflicting belief? ⚙️ gnome: What is your favorite piece of art, music or literature? 🔪 goblin: Have you ever lashed out to protect yourself? ⚔️ goliath: Talk about the most dangerous experience you’ve ever had. 🌕 half-elf: Where would you build your dream home? 🌻 halfling: Talk about a time you indulged your curiosity. 🔰 half-orc: Do people find you intimidating? 💁🏿 human: What do you feel is your greatest weakness? 🐤 kenku: How well do you communicate with others? 😈 tiefling: What is the best or worst first impression you’ve ever made? 🔱 triton: What is your relationship like with water or the sea? 🐍 yuan-ti: Would you say you’re cold or warm-blooded?

#( asks )

justrpmemesandmusings

Send me a faceclaim and I’ll tell you who they’d be in my muse’s life as a NPC

#( asks )

THE WILL OF THE RIFT

a playlist for Ezek Kind

theme from black sails - bear mcreary / be - hozier / i get overwhelmed - dark rooms / wolf like me - lera lynn ft. shovels & rope / o sleeper - the oh hellos / limb - keaton henson / we all go the same - radical face / the ghost on the shore - lord huron / moving mountains - the brevet / hymn #101 - the ballroom thieves / sea legs - the ballroom thieves / slack jaw ( echo mountain sessions ) - sylvan esso ( listen )

#( &. like the rocking of the waves | inspo )