llyr banes.

tiefling mage | 24 | king's gambit | he/him

[llyrbxnes-blog]

nxghtjxr‌:

One step closer to a cure. It was a small thing, hard to call it a true victory in the grand scheme of things, but with such uncertainty, feeling such a dull, aching emptiness without his magic, every little step towards the potential cure meant a great deal more than he wanted to admit. Even with little real proof that the potion he aimed to make would truly be able to cure him, he refused to allow himself to think of what would happen if he was following a false trail. The thread of hope was the only thing keeping him from seeking revenge unprepared. 

“For the ice lotus oil, yes. Though, not a virgin one,” he teased, raising an eyebrow as he stood up. Pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket, Nightjar delicately wrapped the blossoms he’d cut in it, and tucked them into his bag, as the other cut his own. “Sounds a fair deal to me.”

He laughed at the thought of a worse guardian; he could not imagine such, but perhaps he was biased in his resurrection. “One could argue that the reason the orcs of Urnundr have such a bad name currently is solely because of my patron and his choices,” he explained. It was perhaps foolish to mention Urnundr, but he had long learned how to sniff out trouble, and this man did not seem to want such, especially as he explained his intentions.

“Nightjar. If this night goes well, drinks are on me, Llyr,” he smiled, shaking the other’s hand. “I travelled with a group for a while, about seven, eight years ago, looking for more myself. And I do not think I’d have found it if I had not joined them. You’re right to want to hold onto them; they’ll likely give you something you had not realized you sought.”

Llyr grinned, happy to find that their new companion had a sense of humor. It was lesson common than Llyr would have thought. Or, perhaps, he just wasn’t as skilled at determining when to utilize his sense of humor. The mention of orcs and Urnundr piqued Llyr’s interest a bit, but only in that he recognized that it should. Farer reaches of the map were still a bit of a mystery to him, as were the politics and interrelations of those places. “Well,” he said, teasing tone still apparent, “we all have our vices.” Quite unlike Phoenix and his goddess, then.

“Drinks on you will all but guarantee that it goes well.” After all, they had already found one patch. At this rate, Llyr would have a decent collection of coin to bring to the Gambit the next day. 

“Why did you leave?” Llyr asked, heading off for deeper into the treeline. The question was mostly fueled by his own planning. How would he know when it was time to leave the Gambit behind? That is, supposing he was lucky enough to make that choice himself. A smile came to his face as he considered all that he had already gained. “I’m open to all the experiences.”

[llyrbxnes-blog]

khxvakri‌:

     Llyr often made Khovakri nervous. Nothing with him having demonic blood, though the thought of it made him weary of the boy’s intentions, but rather with the raw, untrained nature of his magic. Magic was an unstable thing, one he had learned to love and trust after years of being raised by magic users and being engaged to one, but still that type of power in the hands of someone inexperienced could cause terrible trouble. 

     He knew. He had seen the damage it could do,

     Yet whatever his fears were, Llyr had nothing to do with it. The kid needed a chance, if anything. Someone who gave him a chance to prove himself and maybe when he gained more confidence, he’d gain stability as well. That’s what the Gambit was for, after all. “Ah, I think you’re just fine, kid. You did well in Balgur and you’ll do alright here as well,” Khovakri said reassuringly, walking up to him to place a hand on his shoulder for a moment before releasing him and starting to quietly make his way towards where the creatures were spotted. 

     “Owlbears are aggressive, stubborn creatures. They’ll attack us on sight if they notice our presence. It’d be ideal to avoid a fight, specially if there’s really a pack of them,” he told Llyr calmly. He didn’t mind the fight all that much but dealing with more than one owlbear at the time could be tricky. They were fierce beasts, and they never backed away from a fight. “What can your magic do? Maybe we could create an illusion, something bigger and badder they’ll want to fight. If they hear us or see us, they’ll want to fight us, but they aren’t very smart.”

Llyr appreciated Khovakri’s reassurance -- especially from him. Khovakri never had to worry about being valuable, it seemed. He was always capable and able, whether it be in a fight or in gathering coin for the collective purse of the party. Either way, validation from him went a long way in Llyr’s mind. All he had to do was not fuck this mission up and undo any good nature the other felt toward him.

He nodded as Khovakri spoke, mostly information he already knew. It was good to have it confirmed, to know they were both on the same page. He winced a little at his companion’s hopeful musings. “Nothing as big as that,” he admitted. “The only illusions I’m able to produce are still rather minor. I could make the ground shake, or make a sound from somewhere else. It’s more useful as a distraction.” Llyr gave an apologetic sort of shrug, his tail flickering along the ground. 

“It’s better in a fight, I think, my magic.” That was something that he intended to work on. Combat magic was useful at its times of course but that wasn’t where Llyr’s interests lay. 

[llyrbxnes-blog]

juniperfarheart‌:

It was a slight comfort to Juniper, the idea that someone else had recently felt as overwhelmed by all this as she did. Perhaps they were all lost souls, seeking comfort in a world that was too large for them. “Not really.” She admits, gentle. “I had my father, until recently. But it was just us and the trees.” Her voice is slightly rueful, slightly longing. “We liked it best that way.” 

She lets herself relax slightly into the conversation. She does not think this boy will hurt her, and if he tried to she believed she could easily ward him off. “I’m going to the far north. As far as I can get.” A small smile. “I hope to find what I seek there.” And then, allowing herself to be curious, she asks him the question in return. “And you? Do you have a destination in mind?” 

Oh, a family pair. That was interesting, to Llyr. He hadn’t come across too many adventurers of family. Just family groups migrating from one place to another, to settle. Llyr almost asked where her father was but something clued him in not to. Maybe it was the look on her face, maybe it was the tone of her voice. Either way, he just gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Believe me, I can understand the appeal of that.”

Llyr’s eyebrows cast up a bit. The far North. Well, that was about where they were headed, so that made sense. He just couldn’t see the attraction. What was there, besides horrible code and yetis? “What are you seeking?” Maybe he had used his good sense up earlier, not asking about her father, which prompted him to push forward on this question. He shook his head when she asked about his own destination. “Not really, no. I’m along for the...experience, I suppose. To see all that I can see, to learn.”

[llyrbxnes-blog]

nxghtjxr‌:

Letting his question hang in the air for a moment, Nightjar examines the blossoms with his gloved fingers. He had only see a picture in a nearly destroyed book, had only read the descriptions and heard them repeated in the festival, but this seemed to be it. “I suppose I won’t know for sure until I pick it. You see, this potion I’m making, it has very particular instructions. I must pick the sale’tomah in the moonlight on the solstice with a silver dagger imbued with ice lotus oil,” he explained holding up his dagger, showing the way it gleamed in the moonlight. “The stem of the flower should turn crystalline if it is the right flower; sale’tomah reacts to ice lotus oil in that way, and it is the only way to preserve it for the potion.” 

Pushing the flowers back, he carefully cut the stem, and a slow creeping crystal seemed to grown from where the metal had touched the stem, spreading up the stem. Nightjar looked back up at the other. “You were correct, my friend. Now all the more reason to hunt together,” he grinned.

“I’m alone in body, but watched over by an omnipresent prick,” he joked with a hearty laugh, although at the moment, at least, it seemed the High Lord of Urnundr was letting him be. “Traveling with a group, you say? Now those were the days; a band of companions, someone to watch your back, help you along the way, put you to sleep with a story at night. Do you seek adventure or money?” he asked, as if those were the only two choices for why someone would travel in a pack now.

Llyr did his best not to roll his eyes at the specificity of potions and instructions. “Did a virgin bard have to be singing a specific song in the background as well?” he joked. But even still, he leaned in to watch if the reaction occurred. When what looked like frost or pure ice spread over the stem, Llyr let out a triumph little whoop. “Good for something after all,” he said on a laugh. 

Crouching himself, Llyr set about gathering a few blossoms for himself and tucking them carefully into a small leather pouch. “We’ll split the spoils evenly at each find?” he suggested, sure to only take half of the crop before them. 

‘An omnipresent prick.’ Llyr wondered if that meant that this traveler had sworn his fealty to some deity, like Phoenix. “I suppose there are worse guardians to have.” A smile came to his face softly as the other spoke of the positive aspects of having a group. “I was on my own until recently,” he explained. “And I’ve only since learned those benefits of having companions. I’m looking to hold onto them for awhile if I can.” Llyr bobbed his head, considering the question. “Closer to the former, I suppose.” Money was nice, Llyr did like money. But that wasn’t why he had set out from Trerdm. “I was just looking for something more than my hometown. I suppose that means adventure.”

Holding out his hand, Llyr offered finally, “I’m Llyr.”

[llyrbxnes-blog]

khxvakri‌:

Location: Farthorpe Time: Midnight,  first day. For: @llyrbxnes.

     The Gambit had arrived to Farthorpe earlier that day, the cold wind signaling the change of scenery and the promise of snow and cold. It brightened Khovarki’s mood significantly, his warm, heavy cloak finally being right were in belonged - snug on his shoulders. Not everyone was in such a great mood though, and many travelers attending the festivals spoke of dangerous creatures just outside the field causing trouble. 

    It was a rumor for a while, the kind that all travelers and merchants brought with them to sell overpriced wares when the wine started to flow and the inhibitions lowered. But every now and then rumors were true, and when the town’s guards started offering those who looked able-bodied some coin in exchange for getting rid of the threat, Khovakri approached them with a confident stride. 

     He had taken care of his fair share of owlbears back home. Never on his own, of course, but they did favor the forrest so he wasn’t a stranger to the creature. 

    Finding Llyr in the middle of the night near where the owlbears were last seen was a surprise. A very welcomed one. As much as Khovakri feared the boy’s temper and inexperience, he was also a very powerful ally. “Well, look who’s here!” Khovakri approached him with a smile. “I take it you’re here for the owlbears, right? Any plans aside from a fight? We could try to avoid that, now that there’s two of us.” 

Owlbears. He had run into the things once or twice on his journeys. And he could remember once, when he was small, that a few of them had somehow found their way into the forest that was near Trerdm. He had managed to come out of everything alive so far. That was encouraging. Maybe there was something like confidence in him after the run-in with the ankheg. That had been nice -- to be able to have a tale of defeating a beast. A victory, having done something correct.

Owlbears, though, were a little more difficult than ankheg. But, he wouldn’t be caught unawares like last time. He was on the lookout for the things and, if all went according to plan, he would earn some coin for his trouble. That’s not to say, though, that he was disappointed at the sight of Khovakri. Quite the opposite -- between Llyr’s magic and Khovakri’s raw strength they would be able to handle any fray.

Llyr’s relief showed in his smile to his companion, and the way his tail uncoiled. “I am, yes,” he answered. “Thought I might try and be a bit more useful at this stop, contribute a little more.” He squared his jaw a little at that; inadequacy was a clear soft spot for Llyr. “No real plan, no. I can see well enough, even with no light so it should be easy enough to spot them coming.” At least, he hoped that would be true.

Khovakri likely wouldn’t mind the fight. Strong and able,his human companion was sturdy against injury. Llyr himself wasn’t so keen. “If we can avoid the fight, I wouldn’t complain,” he said with a slight laugh. “But I think that’s rather more up the owlbears.”

[llyrbxnes-blog]

nxghtjxr‌:

His smile is easy, and it seems he genuinely appreciates the compliment, even as prepared for a fight as he seems. But he hasn’t struck, and shows no signs of wanting to make this friendly exchange anything but. It’s a risk, to take a look at the blossoms more closely, leaving his back open to attack, his neck vulnerable, but he decides to trust the other on this, especially if he’s only here for the money in selling it. So Nightjar kneels down to inspect the flower himself as the other goes on.

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” he said with a laugh, although that was not all together false, in his mind. Revealing the specifics his illness to an unknown party was not something that he planned on doing, even if the other did seem good-natured enough. He had found in his years as a spy that people were rarely all they seemed on the surface, and even less often what they presented upon the first meeting.

Still, it feels fair to offer a small bit if he was willing to share. “It’s for a personal matter. I need enough to provide room for trial and error. It has been a long while since I’ve made a potion that was not meant to harm,” Nightjar chuckled, as if the last part was a joke. “Perhaps we might search for more together? If you are alone, that is…”

The other bends to inspect the flowers and Llyr settles himself. Posting his staff in the ground, he leans against the top of it. “It is sale’tomah, right? I’m only passingly familiar with the stuff, actually.” He was fairly certain he had found the right thing but if there was a look-a-like that existed, he could very well be wrong. 

He laughed at the joke, though he had the sense that it wasn’t entirely a joke. You could never be sure, after all, with strangers met in the woods. Who knew what was in his past? And Llyr wasn’t one to pry -- at least not when it might get him killed. The other did go on a little bit though, shared enough to pique his interest. A potion not meant to harm -- either a charm or a heal, then. Potions and draughts were not so much Llyr’s strong suit, otherwise he might have offered assistance. 

“I wouldn’t mind the company,” he answered honestly, smiling and spreading his arms. The soft fall of snow dusted along his horns, caught in the tangle of the netting. “I’m alone on this mission, though traveling with a group through Farthorpe. I take it you’re on your own?”

[llyrbxnes-blog]

juniperfarheart‌:

She watches the dancers with a smile, uncaring of the restlessness this boy seems to imbue. He has the aura of a puppy, something small. But she knows well enough that even the nicest seeming thing can end up cruel and violent.

She huffs out the smallest laugh at his words. Ten people. The largest group she’d shared since she lost her home was four. A tense shared campfire on the road. Outsiders were dangerous. They could take the things you love and ruin them, they could desecrate holy places with glee. Swallowing past it, she admits quietly: “I’m…unused to the company of such a large group.” 

And then, because she does realise that she is not giving off the friendliest aura, and does not want to disappoint anybody before they have even set off, she continues. “But it is, yes, nice to meet you all. I’m hoping that Phoenix was right when he suggested I travel with you for a time.” 

He offers a crooked sort of smile back to her, eyes soft. “Yeah, me too. I had been on my own for years. I only just recently joined up with our lot.” She’s clearly still a little uncomfortable with the idea of it all. He doesn’t blame her, necessarily. He was still sometimes wary himself of the Gambit, of relying on others. Of having others rely on you. “Were you on your own as well?” he asks.

Llyr gives a soft shrug, smile still easy on his face. “I’m sure he was. As much as it was an adjustment, having a party is...nice.” It was nice to lay down to sleep knowing that someone was keeping watch. It was nice to pool coin for a hot meal or a night at an inn. It was nice to know that, if they were caught in a fry, he didn’t only have his own magic at his back. “Are you headed anywhere in particular?”

[llyrbxnes-blog]

juniperfarheart‌:

She wrinkles her nose, nodding along to his brief explanation. Knowing he was with Phoenix was a small comfort, but she still feels an uncertainty that may never pass. “I suppose I am.” She says, her voice soft. While the words come out, she doesn’t reach out to take his hand and shake it as politeness might dictate. Her hands find their way into her pockets, and her eyes return to the dancers. 

He may know Phoenix, but every one of these people aside from Phoenix is a stranger to her. “Juniper.” She tells him, voice steady. “Your friend –– Phoenix. He’s a good man. I just didn’t realise there were so many of you. In the Gambit, I mean.” 

Llyr holds his hand out a bit too long before shifting it back to his side. Behind him, his tail whips a little, uncertain and feeling a bit slighted. “We’re an okay bunch, mostly,” he tells her, just for something to say. “Some a little less friendly than others, but all mostly good.” The dancer he had been staring at began to twine their body like a pendulum, urging them back and forth. Llyr rocks a little on his heels, unconsciously following the movement.

He’s heartened, though, when she gives her name. “Juniper. Nice to meet ya.” A warm smile passes his features at the mention of Phoenix. “That he is. The best I’ve met so far.” He doesn’t share that Phoenix’s goodness sometimes puts him on edge, sometimes makes him wonder about innate good and innate evil in a way that he isn’t always comfortable with. “Yeah, I think there’s, like, ten of us, now, with you?” He frowns thoughtfully. “That is kind of a lot.” Very different from just himself and the journey.

[llyrbxnes-blog]

nxghtjxr‌:

The festival was nice, and everything, but there was no way that he would be able to truly enjoy even one sip of the delicious smelling mulled wine until he had what he had come for. The problem was, for all his training, all the ways he could sneak into places he wasn’t meant to be, coax out information he wasn’t meant to know, craft poisons that could silence even those with the loudest mouths, he had never had the patience for hunting for plants. Distracted too easily, not interested enough when his subject wasn’t going to talk to him, he’d always preferred to steal buy his potion ingredients rather than pick them himself. Unfortunately, a cure for Mage’s Blight was not so simple, each ingredient either incredibly rare, or with the need of being picked fresh, once in a blue moon on the second day of a new moon at the turn of the century as long as it was a leap year, or something of that sort. Too many specifics for his liking.

A night spent searching, and he still hadn’t found it, and he’s beginning to think tonight would be just as fruitless. That is, until his eyes fall on a figure a bit off, leaning over something, looking closely. He’s well aware others are in search of sale’tomah, as well, now it’s just a question of what he’ll have to do to make certain he gets enough for his potion. All the better that someone else does the hard work for him. Before he can move any closer, though, the figure turns around. The tiefling turns around, quarterstaff in hand, ready, despite the friendly tone. He fights the urge to pull out his own weapon, though, as he approaches with a grin.

“Something like that. I like your netting there, my friend. Really brings the whole ensemble together,” he says, nodding towards his horns. “Ah, that plant, though? Is that sale’tomah? I’m afraid I’m in need of a few blossoms myself.”

Llyr grins back, lifting his chin a little. “Well, thanks.” He can pick up on the tension in the other’s spine though, can tell that he’s just as ready to attack should the need arise. But that actually puts Llyr at ease a little. If he’s waiting to defend himself, just as Llyr is, that means he probably won’t be doing the attacking. And besides, he likes his horn ornaments and is happy to accept the compliment, whatever its origin.

Spreading an arm, Llyr indicates the patch of flowers. “It is, I believe.” There’s enough of a cluster that he doesn’t mind sharing the bounty. He has the energy to keep searching, too, so this likely won’t be the last of his findings. “I’m here for the payday, merely,” he admits, cocking his head a little. The stranger, Llyr can’t help but notice, is attractive. “So I’m happy to share some of my finding. Why are you in need of the blossoms?”

Sale’tomah was a magical component, after all. He wondered what sort of potion the other might be attempting. 

[squirreltastic]

Send me a word and I will write a drabble with our characters:

[llyrbxnes-blog]

decayedcare‌:

Cheiloproclitic - Being attracted to someones lips. Quidnunc - One who always has to know what is going on. Ultracrepidarian - Of one who speaks or offers opinions on matters beyond their knowledge. Apodyopis - The act of mentally undressing someone. Gymnophoria - The sensation that someone is mentally undressing you. Tarantism - The urge to overcome melancholy by dancing. Capernoited - Slightly intoxicated or tipsy. Lalochezia - The use of abusive language to relieve stress or ease pain. Cataglottism - Kissing with tongue. Basorexia - An overwhelming desire to kiss. Brontide - The low rumbling of distant thunder. Wanweird - An unhappy fate. Dystopia - Am imaginary place of total misery. A metaphor for hell. Petrichor - The smell of dry rain on the ground. Duende - Unusual power to attract or charm. Concilliabule - A secret meeting of people who are hatching a plot. Strikhedonia - The pleasure of being able to say “to hell with it”. Lygerastia - The condition of one who is only amorous when the lights are out. Ayurnamat - The philosophy that there is no point in worrying about events that cannot be changed. Sphallolalia - Flirtatious talk that leads no where. Baisemain - A kiss on the hand. Druxy - Something which looks good on the outside, but is actually rotten inside. Mamihlapinatapei - The look between two people in which each loves the other but is too afraid to make the first move.

[llyrbxnes-blog]

juniperfarheart‌:

A stranger. A stranger, talking to her. Its still an oddity in her life, in the grand scheme of things. As she’d made her way around town so far, she’d been mainly ignored. Her eyes flick to the stranger and then back to the dancers, rapt as they move, graceful like clouds in the sky, like the wind whistling through the forest. 

     “Balgud?” She mimicked, sounding baffled. “I think I’ve heard about Balgud.” Her father had spoken of the buried city of dwarves, a place that went deep and cared little for trees and flowers and gentle creatures. She couldn’t imagine living in a forest of stone as opposed to one of trees. “What could possibly have brought you there?” She asks, curious, and repressing a shiver at her imagining of what it would be like to feel those walls pressing around her. 

“Lots of dwarves,” Llyr related of the strange city. “Even more stones. Very little magic.” He offered the other smile, though. They were meant to be a new companion, after all. And beyond that, Llyr appreciated that he wouldn’t be the newest of the group any longer. “My party was passing through,” he answered. Cocking his head a little, he added, “Yours too, now, I suppose.”

Above them, one of the dances made a daring loop in the air. Their hair played out from the momentum and Llyr was transfixed. Without looking away from the scene, Llyr offered his hand to shake. “I’m Llyr. I’m with Phoenix. Or, rather, we’re both with the King’s Gambit. And now you are as well, it would seem. Sorry, I didn’t catch your name earlier.”

[llyrbxnes-blog]

where: a few lengths beyond farthorpe when: just after midnight, day 2 availability: closed to @nxghtjxr​

Finding more flowers. An easy enough task -- Llyr had been lucky last time, after all. For the most part; true that Sylvar had suffered a slight acid burn. But that was just the smallest hitch in it all and they had each earned 30 tal. Llyr could contribute to the Gambit, could tell them all that he had managed to fell the first beast on his own. 

 So, here he was, in the first driftings of snow just outside of Farthorpe, looking for another plant. He had come straight away from celebrating with the golden netting still strewn across his horns and a brief smile flitting on his face. He liked Falthorpe, he liked their solstice. It was a bit cold for his liking, but at least he didn’t feel quite so hyper-aware of himself, as he had in Balgud. 

Just as he spots a cluster of the sale’tomah, Llyr also hears the tell-tale rustle of someone walking nearby. He straightens and takes a stance by the span of flora. Quarterstaff in hand, he trains his eyes at the treeline. It’s likely just another surveyor, searching to pocket some coin from collecting. The area is sparse and scrubby enough that it isn’t a beast. And Llyr can just see the shadow of who’s approaching -- humanoid, at the least. “Out for a midnight stroll?” he calls, good-nature heavy in his tone.

[llyrbxnes-blog]

juniperfarheart‌:

Location: Farthorpe Time: Late evening, on the second day.  For: Open.

“They are absolutely the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in –– okay, in way too long.” She sighs it out, voice laced with wonder. Civilisation is strange to her in a way it possibly always will be. Juniper could count the days she had spent in a town or city easily, the number low enough to remember without a second thought. She feels claustrophobic and out of place, longing for a return to wilderness and wild. But it is nice to know that even here there is beauty surrounding her, feats of wonder and worship. 

The floating dancers are magnificent. They make something like awe fill up her chest. They make her wish that she had someone with her to enjoy them, wonders what her father would say about them. 

Llyr, too, finds his gaze locked on the floating dancers. Ever since he was a child, he has enjoyed heights. Climbing the trees, standing at the top of one of cliffs and throwing his arms out... More than anything, he wishes that he could ride one of the long silks himself. He’s always had an innate sense of rhythm, has always been aware of his body and the way it moves. And to do that, up so high... 

A voice speaks out, echoing his admiration and he turns to smile at the source. It’s the wood elf that Phoenix brought to them, like a child holding a blink dog pup out to their parents. He hadn’t caught the name of the apparent newest addition but there was no time like the present. “Me as well. At least, the most beautiful thing since Balgud, where we just came. The architecture there... It was stunning.”

[llyrbxnes-blog]

sylvarvenren‌:

Theres a shame that rises up in him at the way he slightly freezes. He stands back quickly once its commanded of him, watches with a breath frozen in his throat as Llyr unleashes his magic. A powerful spell, impressive when Sylvar stops to think about it. He wishes he could think so fast. His hand flies to one of his daggers while his mind scrambles for an offensive spell of his own, and yet it seems he doesn’t need one right now. 

Llyr is an impressive man, when you see him in action, something Sylvar hasn’t contemplated fully until now. “A good shot.” he breathes out, eyes carefully glued to the seemingly lifeless body before them. “Really, quite a very good shot.”  

With another sigh of relief, he turns back. Once again, he has something to say, an urging wish that they should carry on and get this over with as soon as possible. Another beast, however, looks back at him from its perch on the rock. Smaller than the last, and Sylvar really hopes it isn’t some kind of child. Once again, he isn’t proud of the way he jumps. But at least this time, he doesn’t quite freeze up. Somehow, Bren’s instructions are in his head, and because his dagger is already in hand, he throws it quickly in a moment of panic. Perhaps a moment too late, it lands true just as the creature spits some kind of acid at him. 

It’s pure luck that the hit was good, and even luckier still that the acidic substance only hits his arm and not the rest of his body. It hurts more than anything, but its something he can ignore for the time being. He takes a moment to breathe as he watches the small creature fall, almost sad that he’s had to kill it. “Perhaps our friends will be proud of us after all.” 

Llyr’s heart has hardly settled from the first beast, from his quick-fingered magic. Sylvar’s appreciation rushes past him like a buzzing in his ears and he can do nothing but stare at the monster. He’s expecting it to rise again, to pull itself up and attack again. But it doesn’t. It doesn’t move. It doesn’t breathe. He only just registers that there’s a roar, though. Another thing readying its attack.

Sylvar makes quick work of it, launching a dagger. But not before the thing gets its acid over his friend’s arm. Llyr turns on the other in a rush, shaking his head at the comment. “I think they’ll crown us gods,” he jokes back. But his heart isn’t in it, clearly, as he reaches for Sylvar’s arm, careful not to touch the substance. “Does it hurt much?” he asks. Which is a stupid question. He can hear the sizzle and pop of the stuff.

“I think it’s time for us to head back,” he says, taking Sylvar’s hand and steering them back toward the Temple. “Perhaps we can add a bit of healing to the payment.”

[llyrbxnes-blog]

Trerdm [‘trɛr•d(ə)m] 1. a village, located near the Southern coast of the Southern-most island of the archipelago that spans The Rift. 2. air constantly touched by Rift and salt, the shift of sand mixed with soil, many hands coming together, shells and waxen leaves and smoothed glass, a circle of children laughing as if a single family, sun dancing through leaves, clouds gathering on the ebbing horizon, nets strung and tied, the comfort of Infernal crackling like a hearth. <lesser Infernal trer land; dmen home>

Trerdm is small village that is home to an almost entirely tiefling community. The current population hovers somewhere around 1400. Most are born, grow-up and die within the boundaries of this town, never leaving.

The community was formed out of what was thought was necessity. Centuries ago, the first founders of the village had suffered great discrimination because of their race. They were cast out of most other communities and ended up coming together to form a community where they could be safe. The views on tieflings have become more welcoming, at least universally, but those within Trerdm, for the most part, still fear that discrimination.

The social structure is communal to a fault. Government, too, is communal -- decisions made by group meeting and democracy. In only the most dire of cases, an elected board of village elders make a final ruling. In terms of commerce, there is a barter system of both goods and services with tal rarely changing hands. Though, there is a village coffer for the purchase of necessities from the neighboring Arrunboro that many contribute to through sale of crafts, services and goods at that city, when needed.

The village has a tropical to temperate climate, mostly warm and often rainy. Due largely to the topographical structure, there are often winds that move through the village and surrounding areas.

The village is set in a large clearing that abuts a section of cliffs, to the South. To the North and East, the trees get thicker, closer together to a wooded area that creates a moderate partition between Trerdm and the nearest city, Arrunboro. This area is often traveled and only low-level creatures dwell here, usually keeping to themselves. To the West, a wide stretch of meadow spans out and over, past the trees.

Arrunboro once at one time a sort of “resort” city--largely made up of wealthy individuals and their second homes. The economy and demographics have since shifted to a more stable and diverse community. This city has several ports and many trading relationships. On foot, it’s only a few hours’ journey to Arrunboro from Trerdm. As such, this is the main source of any goods that the village requires.

[llyrbxnes-blog]

splinterfoot‌:

From city to city, town to town, Splinter is other. She’s of the forest, the trees and the dirt and the things that grow. Anywhere else, she just doesn’t belong. Everyone else knows it. They can see it in her ears, her height, the color of her skin, the glint in her eyes. So she sticks to the shadows, never quite meeting their gaze.

Here, in Balgud, it’s not so terrible; with her hood pulled up, she’s almost indistinguishable from the dwarves. So they pay her no mind. Even when she steps up to a small stall, they pay her no mind. (Normally, shopkeepers refuse to take their eyes off her, sure those delicate fingers of hers are going to snatch up whatever’s nearest. Sometimes, they’re not wrong.)

But as she wanders away, she catches sight of Llyr; tall as a mountain, with great big horns. They haven’t spent much time together, but Splinter thinks maybe he hasn’t spent much time with any of them. She watches him for a moment; she smells that acrid tinge of magic as he stands near a wall. Then he looks up, out at the sun.

She saunters up to him, tossing a red and ripe fruit from one hand to the other. She follows his gaze and squints at the sun. Though being in the city is better than being out of it, neither make her feel safe; here, she’s surrounded by stone, the sky far beyond her grasp, but outside, the sky’s too close, scorching her.

“What do you see?” she asks.  

Llyr smiles at the sight of Splinterfoot, juggling a fruit between her hands. He waves a hand up at the staggering architecture. “Just the skill,” he explains. “Trying to imagine how must work it must have been to do all this, all the carving and all.” He has built structures before, but they were nothing like this. Nothing like the intricate and ornate architecture that seems to be growing out of the very stone itself. 

“What about you?” he asked, turning full attention to the wood elf. “What catches your attention here?” Balgud wasn’t really like any place that Llyr had been before. Some parts of it reminded him of Trerdm, the cliffs at certain coastlines, but not much else. It seemed, to him, that Splinterfoot was not terribly at ease here. He could sympathize. More than anything, he didn’t want to be what caught anyone else’s attention.

[llyrbxnes-blog]

brenharrowood‌:

     “For once,” they said, flashing a smile in his direction, all teeth, “a wise decision on your part.” 

Not that Bren was the one to do any talking. Sometimes wisdom was knowing which of your companions had the natural charm to move through a city unscathed, and leave the talking to them. It was why Riven would be finding them lodging, why Phoenix would be dealing with the city’s temple leader, why they’d stick by the side of Khovakri if they needed to get somewhere without causing any trouble. They knew when to keep their mouth shut – which was most of the time, unless they were looking to piss someone off. 

     “Another wise decision would be to try to get some more sleep. You’ll be quicker on your feet if you’re well-rested, and less likely to trip over something dangerous.” 

Llyr gave a sheepish grin to his toes, one had scruffing at his hair. “I am capable of them sometimes,” he joked. He liked to think that he wasn’t quite the utter disaster that the group imagined him to be. He could be clumsy, in all definitions, for sure, but when he kept to himself, it was generally all right. He would just have to...keep to himself more often. 

He knew a dismissal when he heard one, at least. Nodding, he pushed up from the ground. His tail wavered behind him, as if stretching from the period of sitting. “Have a safe watch, Bren,” he offered, turning from them. “See you in the morning.”