when a D&D campaign becomes a work of literature

[lovecraftian-druid]

Pactborn VI

“You ready to do some treasure hunting today, kiddo?” 

K’Sirr’s voice broke Ka’l’s concentration as she stared absentmindedly at a pod of blue whales swimming along the surface of the Rocsanee Ocean, their blowholes spewing water like great geysers.

Ka’l never fully understood the liking K’Sirr had taken to her. Perhaps it had to do with feeling responsible for her after inviting her to join his crew; or maybe it was because she was so much younger than any of his other shipmen; or possibly that he felt a kinship based on their mutual love for sailing; some even speculated that it was because of her relation to a famous admiral of the Felgran Fleet. Whatever the case, it was no surprise to the rest of the crew when Ka’l quickly rose through the ranks. It was even less surprising when K’Sirr - after only seven months aboard the Sea Wolf - invited her along on a Trover quest, a type of hunt for great treasure hoards. Lore of these massive bounties were usually only learned about within the Trovers Guild, a group of pirates whose life’s work was to discover legendary riches and wondrous items. 

The young pirate pocketed her compass as she made her way to the side of the ship that housed the utility boats: there, two other Trovers perched on crates, preparing for the dive ahead of them. One of them - a blue dragonborn sorcerer by the name of Zandynn - sat cutting a small reed into pieces in preparation for a ritual spell while the other (Candid, a roguish tiefling) fitted her many daggers into her belt. As K’Sirr arrived on the scene, a lumpy roughspun sack clutched tightly in one hand, he looked expectantly at Ka’l: “Aren’t you missing something?” He smiled a toothy grin as he lifted the weighted bag in his hand, and Ka’l realized that the others also had similar sacks waiting on the deck next to their feet.

“Oh, uh, no, I didn’t think I’d need one - I’m a pretty strong swimmer,” Ka’l stammered, trying her best to speak with confidence.

The three of them chuckled wryly before Zandynn spoke: “Little lady, the way we’re traveling, you won’t need to swim.”

“It’s Ka’l,” K’Sirr corrected him with a sidelong glance, “she prefers Ka’l, so that’s what you can call her.” Zandynn rolled his eyes as he commenced his casting of the ritual spell, and K’Sirr turned his focus back to Ka’l, winking at her as he lifted the lid of a nearby barrel to retrieve one more bag that - as she learned upon inspecting it - was filled with a single large rock. He handed it to her and explained, “You’ll tie this to your waist to keep your body from trying to float back up to the surface.”

Ka’l gave a nod of understanding and began tying off a neat square knot about her mid-drift while Zandynn finished his incantations. She wasn’t expecting the odd sensation of the set of arcane gills that suddenly formed along the sides of her neck as he finished the casting of the spell with a somatic flourish, and it took her a moment to realize that she could still breathe air normally as she ran her fingers over the foreign bodily addition. Her eyes widened as she turned to face Zandynn: “this is amazing!” she gushed, genuinely.

K’Sirr smiled proudly and stepped to the edge of the ship, motioning for the dinghy to be run out for the small group. “With that, I believe we should be ready to depart - Gahjeel, you’re in command while I’m away!” he hollered up to the black tabaxi as he lept gracefully into the small boat. Ka’l and the others followed, and as they rowed out towards some shoals, Ka’l continued to play with her strange new gills.

The two shipmates carried on a lighthearted conversation as Ka’l watched K’Sirr, his eyes pressed shut in concentration as he twirled a forked twig around with his thumb and forefinger, all the while humming a tune under his breath. Ka’l always marveled at the use of magic and was so impressed by K’Sirr and those with whom he associated: she hoped to one day be able to achieve the same arcane wonders these folks were able to accomplish.

Lost in thought over what it must be like to cast such incredible magic, Ka’l jumped a little when K’Sirr declared loudly, “Here! Stop!”

The rare and elusive Necklace of Fireballs: K’Sirr and his crew had been seeking this treasure for the last few months now, since before Ka’l had joined the Sea Wolf. Now, thanks to a reliable tip and a handy divination spell, they were merely a dive away from having it within their grasp.

The others situated their things securely in the small boat as Ka'l dropped the anchor and peered down into the waters below: the shallows afforded her a view of what looked to be large shoals of multicolored coral growing all shapes and sizes. The dinghy began to rock a little, and Ka'l turned to see the others holding their stone-filled bags, ready to take the plunge. Ka'l followed suit, gathering up the rough sack in her arms.

"Are we ready?" K'Sirr asked, making brief eye contact with each member. Nods gave him the affirmation he needed, and he looked at Ka'l with an ornery twinkle in his eye as he patted her on the back. "After you, my dear."

Eager to impress her captain and establish some credibility among her crew, Ka'l scrambled to her feet in the wobbly boat as it swayed unsteadily. Without hesitation, she pulled the stone close to her chest and made an attempt at jumping overboard - this exciting milestone quickly developed into a bit of an embarrassing one though as her toe caught the lip of the dinghy, throwing the boat off-balance (to the gasping surprise of the others) and sending her splashing torso-first against the surface of the water before sinking deeper, her stone having knocked some of the wind from her now-waterbreathing lungs.

As bubbles floated with urgency from her mouth rising rapidly towards the light of day above, Ka'l opened her eyes to behold the beautiful underwater world she had just entered: schools of fish flitted in and out of reef croppings while small crustaceans skimmed the currents for tasty food particles; a neon-colored parrotfish crunched its hard beak down on some faded coral as a eel lunged from within its kelpy hiding place to catch its prey.

Enraptured by this tropical wonderland, she took a moment to explore the tiny reef. It wasn't until she felt something aggressively ram into her followed by a sharp, piercing pain that she realized something was wrong - as the water around her plumed with crimson clouds of her own blood, Ka'l twisted at her hips to find her thigh locked down upon by the jaws of a hungry tiger shark, seemingly drawn by the sound of her loud dive. More bubbles escaped her mouth as she tried to scream for help, flailing violently in an attempt to tear herself free of its razor-sharp teeth. With her hands extended before her, pushing with all her might against the creature's sandpaper-like snout, Ka'l felt a surge of arcane power course through her panicked body. 

Something happened in that moment of terror: something Ka’l would ever forget, something that would change her life forever. As she felt her body begin to go into shock, the blood pumping loud within her ears, two golden slitted eyes flashed within her mind, sending her body into overdrive. With her hand pressed against the shark’s face, her eyes shot open again as her hand released an unbridled beam of crackling turquoise energy: as the eldritch blast struck the creature in the face, it sent a shock wave of force rippling through the water between them, swirling the streams of bloodied water billowing through the reef. 

The shark - surprised and perturbed - released its hold on Ka’l as it felt itself pushed back a bit from the force; however, this was not enough to frighten it away. With resolved bloodlust, the shark circled back for another attack. Her head still swimming with adrenaline, confusion, and blood loss, Ka’l looked on in absolute horror as the massive beast swam hard in her direction. As the rock tied about her waist began to sink her like a stone, she was able to see the familiar form of her captain standing at the bottom of the shoal’s sandy floor - with one hand extended, she watched as K’Sirr pointed up at the tiger shark and conjured a great sphere of yellow gas right in front of its path. The shark, writhing and reeling as the stinking cloud’s poison assaulted its hypersensitive sense of smell, began thrashing in the water, mingling the red of the blood with the yellow of the gas in a beautiful disaster of brilliant orange for a moment before it turned and swam off at full speed. 

Taking the opportunity to act without risk of attack, K’Sirr cut the rope that tethered his weight and swam with haste towards Ka’l. Pulling her into his arms, he pressed his calico hand firmly against her leg, humming a tender ballad as he comforted her. Ka’l felt the warmth return to her body as the wound slowly closed up. As her eyes regained focus, she tried her best to form the words “thank you” through the water.

Pointing to the noxious cloud of stench that was beginning to thin as the sea cycled the current about, K’Sirr did his best to communicate to her that time was of the essence. 

Ka’l scanned the watery depths for Zandynn and Candid: she saw them striding towards them, kicking up small bits of sand as they moved. Candid appeared to be sheathing two of her daggers as they walked - it looked as though they had not fully escaped without an encounter of their own. 

K’Sirr waved them closer, pulling the forked twig from his pocket and casting his locating spell once more after fetching his weight stone. Like a divining rod moving in response to hidden water, K’Sirr concentrated as his material component began leading him in the direction of his prize. Ka’l and the others followed closely, looking about in all directions out of a well-founded fear for what else might be lurking in the waters around them. 

After only a minute, Ka’l noticed that K’Sirr’s pace had quickened as he followed the path bestowed by his spell. Nearly beelining towards an embankment of fuchsia coralline, K’Sirr stashed his component and dropped to all fours, digging in the silty sand at the base of the coral and fan-like seaweeds. Ka’l joined in, shoulder to shoulder with him as she dug. Dirt and soggy debris littered the water around them as they clawed at the loose ground while Candid and Zandynn stood watch like sentinels. 

Ka’l felt the contagious excitement of the hunt creep up on her as they scooped more and more sand aside - tossing a glance in his direction, she saw the boyish look of absolute joy on K’Sirr’s face as he dug for the long-awaited treasure. Plunging her cupped hands into the granulated floor with renewed enthusiasm, she felt her nails scrape against something hard and metallic. She paused, her head spinning like a swivel to lock dilated eyes with K’Sirr in unspoken amazement. Sinking their fists deep into the sand, they groped about to find a pair of round anchor-chainlink handles. With a few struggled heaves, Ka’l helped K’Sirr dislodge the chest from beneath the seafloor. 

Stepping forward from his post, Zandynn put his face close to the lock that dangled from the chest, its metal crusty with rust and barnacles, as he spoke a muffled incantation. At the last punctuation of the spell, the padlock slid down, unlocked, as it dangled loose at the front of the chest. Wiggling its corroded loop free, K’Sirr slowly and almost reverently lifted the lid of the iron trunk.

Ka’l had never seen so much gold in all her life. 

Candid and Zandynn moved in, discarding the stones from their sacks and replacing them instead with fistfuls of coins, while K’Sirr - unconcerned with the monetary treasure - sifted through the riches for his trophy. Finding the necklace, he held it up to his own chest for a moment as if to mockingly model it to Ka’l as he brimmed with exuberance from ear to ear. He delicately draped the piece of jewelry into his chest pocket (careful not to jostle its eight magma-colored beads too roughly) before reaching back into the iron box to retrieve a single ruby gemstone along with a simple gold chain, its middle links slightly damaged. Pulling two lodestones from his pouch, his wild jade-colored eyes met Ka’l’s as he touched the stones against the chain and the gem, causing them to fuse into one. 

With a circular motion of his index finger, K’Sirr had Ka’l turn around so that he could gift her his creation: a beautiful maang tikka which he helped fit to her forehead. Ka’l pawed at the piece of jewelry - she wasn’t usually much for wearing any sort of ornamentation, but she could sense already that this item would hold much sentimental value to her for years to come. 

At long last pleased with his find, K’Sirr motioned for the group to wrap up their adventure. Excited to return with her own plunder, Ka’l emptied her bag of its rock as well and quickly shoveled the remaining gold and gemstones into the woven sack. Zandynn and Candid gave her a pat on the back and a sincere thumbs-up as they tied off the openings of their stuffed bags.

With a hard push off the ground and several propelling kicks, Ka’l swam upwards towards the glistening fractal rays of sunlight; and for the first time since joining the crew, she finally felt like she belonged.

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Sorry for the delay in posting: I had a terrible case of the flu last week and just COULDN’T.

If you enjoyed this chapter of Ka’l Bahriin’s story, please be sure to read the previous five chapters of her series, Pactborn.

Ye Olde Taglist: @serenewrites​, @mayvinwrites​

If you’d like to be included in the taglist, send me a message. :)

[lovecraftian-druid]

Pactborn V

The clear, ringing sound of eight bells echoed out across the cool air hovering above the Turquoise Waves as midnight brought the moons to their highest point in the sky that evening. Putting out his pipe prematurely at the sound, a scruffy half-orc midshipman straightened from his leaning position against a mast, pulled his jacket tighter across his chest, and made for the top of the stairs to fetch his relief.  “Bahriin!” You’re on watch!” he hollered down below deck.

Startled and exhausted, Ka’l rose from her hammock, staggering for the first few paces as she woke up and regained her balance. Scratching the sleep from her eyes as she searched about for her sandals, the fifteen-year-old groggily made for the main deck to take second watch for the third night in a row. The slight chill in the air was a welcomed aid to staying awake as she was passed the lantern, its warmth too kind to do anything more than make her want to fall back asleep.

As a way to keep her mind occupied, she unfolded her green fleece over her lap, rubbing one of the corners of it between her forefinger and thumb as she practiced the newest piece of magic she had recently realized she could cast: whispering the incantations, she swallowed back tears as she produced a minor illusion of Jida's smiling face, jolly with its deep-set wrinkles, just the way she remembered it. She practiced in this way for an hour or more, looking up every few minutes at first to scan the waters from up in her crow's nest; however, she eventually became so focused in her practices that she didn't notice the air grow thick with fog…or the ship that silently floated ever closer to the Golden Afternoon.

Ka'l felt her concentration disturbed as the sound of three bells brought her mind back to the task at hand: keeping an eye on the waters. With the jarring realization that the mist had swept in upon them, she fumbled for her telescope and felt her heart beating in her temples as she scanned the horizon, cursing under her breath at her accidental negligence.

There are times one genuinely hopes or prays for the best in a stressful situation, and then there are times when one already knows that the worst is about to come, no matter how much supplication they offer up to otherworldly entities: the latter is exactly what Ka’l was experiencing at that moment as her brass eyeglass fell upon the tattered sails that bore the face of a crudely-painted canine amid azure waves. Her heart jumped up into her suddenly dry throat as she realized what was about to take place, knowing there was nothing she could do now to stop it - she leapt from the crow’s nest, partly riding down the soggy wooden pole before latching onto a rope to swing the rest of the way to the deck as she yelled at the top of her lungs, “PIRATES! PIRATES OFF THE STARBOARD SIDE! BEAT TO QUARTERS!”

Tripping over her own feet as she ran, head racing, Ka’l desperately rang the deck’s bell, summoning all hands to the main deck.  As a few sailors surfaced from below, she watched as the ship sailed ever closer into range, ignoring any effort to provide a suitable berth for safe passage around them. Standing at the helm, with one boot casually perched against the rail as he leaned out over the front of the boat, a calico-furred tabaxi eyed the merchant vessel with visible hunger. Ka’l watched with dread as he raised a curved blade in the air - holding in there for a moment or two - before lowering it in her ship’s direction as he shouted, “Lock it down!”

Stunned by what she was witnessing, Ka’l stood there, immovable, as the light from three fireballs glistened as distance tangerine reflections in her eyes before something rock-solid blindsided her, sending her slim frame skittering along the deck. Disoriented and alarmed, she rolled over to meet Mica’s gaze, his grey-brown skin tough as gravel matched his commanding tone as he motioned and yelled for her to stay down. He had not yet finished his last word before - boom! boom! boom! - the blazing balls of fire crashed into the sides of the ship, scorching a hole right through the hold and incinerating one of the masts’ sails.

Debris rained down from above, some of it still burning hot with flames, as Ka’l covered her head in fear, still prone from Mica’s heroic tackle. As she lifted her head to assess the damage, her eyes took in the all too efficient havoc that was being wrought upon the Golden Afternoon: mages of substantial abilities flew in from the pirate ship as though they had wings; others appeared out of thin air upon the deck, carrying others with them though a dimension-like door; the remaining swashbucklers swung from long tethered ropes from one ship to the other, effortlessly boarding the now smoldering vessel as her ill-equipped sailors tried in vain to defend themselves.

Lost in a moment of despair, Ka’l did not notice until she reached her hand out to grab Mica’s that the young genasi boy was not moving. “M--Mica?” Ka’l stuttered, convinced that her eyes had deceived her. “Mica, c’mon, we need to get out of here...please, grab my hand…” She tried to pull in out from under the splintered piece of mast that had fallen in the initial chaos, but she was unable to pull him from beneath. Wiping the soot from her face, she crouched low, covering him from the torso up with the green fleece, its warmth no longer needed as the ship sweated with high-burning flames.

Ka’l darted between one-on-one battles that were taking place, calling as she ran, “Darja! Darja! Where are you?!” Escaping below deck, she found him, wet with fearful perspiration and muttering pointless positivities to himself as he rocked back and forth in his velvet-upholstered chair. “They’re taking the ship! Why aren’t you up there with us?” Ka’l rebuked, her voice catching a bit in escalating anguish. “We need you right now! Get upstairs!” Her skin hot with anger, Ka’l felt a foreign sensation rising up within her as a darkness - not yet unearthed - welled inside her, ready to explode like a geyser.  She felt the daggers her eyes threw at Darja as he quickly stood to his feet, seemingly more shaken by her sudden change of aura than by the situation at hand. It was strange, but Ka’l sensed as though she had a literal shroud of darkness surrounding her at that moment, unsure of what would happen if she didn’t pull herself together.

“I--I--I understand, I’ll make my way up to see if I can reason with their captain,” Darja stammered, knocking over several items on his desk as his hands fumbled about, seeking guidance for a path while his eyes remained locked on Ka’l, “perhaps we can come to some sort of a parlay...I’ll be off now,” he trailed off, backing away towards the ladder in an effort to keep a visual on the young Ghaanian.

Taking but a moment to steady herself, Ka’l scaled the ladder shortly after.  Noticing that the brief battle aboard the deck had come to a stand-still, she scanned the crowd of pirates and sailors until she locked eyes on that which she sought: the calico-furred pirate. He dressed neatly yet informally, but there was no mistaking him for anything other than the ship’s captain - he had a certain air to him, a swagger in his step, a cool and calm tone in his voice. “Greetings, all: I know the hour is late, so I won’t keep you long - my name is K’Sirr, captain of the Sea Wolf. I’m sure we all want to head back to our warm beds or, I don’t know, put out some fires perhaps; but before we move on to more exciting things, I must have a word with your captain…” He gave a pause, his green eyes scanning the audience for anyone who might step forward, before adding, “Come, come now, don’t be shy, we truly don’t want anyone to get hurt - we simply need to arrange for some goods to be exchanged.”

Ka’l could tell that her breathing had leveled out, and for that she was thankful. She stayed ducked behind a small panel, peering out to get a view on the crew: to the best of her knowledge, everyone was there and alive, save for Mica and Darja. Sliding around to the opposite side, she craned her neck as far as she dared to check for any stow-aways near the deck closet - sure enough, too plump to wedge himself inside and be able to close the door, Darja stood, trembling, hunched awkwardly in the small cubby space. Her ears steaming with rage, Ka’l could have sworn she heard a low, silky voice in her head saying, “Why should he get to hide from fate?” Without more than a second thought, Ka’l felt her hands waving and arching in sharp staccato motions as she conjured up a translucent arcane hand, oddly shaped like a tiger’s claw. Raising her right hand to her face, she thrust her fist into the open area in front of her and swatted at the air, watching her mage hand do the same as it opened the door, causing Darja to spill out onto the ground with a loud thud.

K’Sirr’s feline eyes dilated as his head turned in a flash to zero in on Darja’s stout form, now floundering to right himself amid the buckets and mops that tumbled out with him. His eyes locked onto a set of leather boots as he slowly turned his gaze upwards at the tabaxi man towering over him. “Am I to presume that you are the captain of this fine vessel?” purred K’Sirr, his words thick with sarcasm. Darja’s jaw hung open as he stammered, looking as though he could wet himself at any moment: this gave Ka’l a satisfaction she had not realized she craved.

Then it happened - whether it was an attempt at flight or a foolish desire to fight, Darja pulled from his vest a small dagger and lunged for the pirate’s chest; K’Sirr, however, was quick to react and his kukri streaked out just in time, causing Darja to inadvertently spear himself on it as he tried to rush the calico tabaxi man. A little surprised himself, K’Sirr held him there for a moment before withdrawing his sword. “What a shame,” he commented softly, sounding genuinely disappointed as he wiped his blade off on a handkerchief he produced from one of his pockets, “I was really hoping to avoid anyone getting seriously hurt tonight…”

Ka’l hardly had time to react as the pirate captain’s eyes shot in her direction, meeting hers and causing her to jump. She tried unsuccessfully to dock behind some crates, knowing full well that she had been spotted. Still, she heard the captain call out to his men, “Take only what we need, leave the rest and tend to the wounded…” he trailed off for a moment before continuing at a louder volume, “so sorry about the mess, all - we’ll be out of your hair as quickly as possible.” Ka’l held her breath as she heard the steady-paced foot falls of the tabaxi’s boots. Bracing for the worst, she pulled her knees up close to her chest and waited for the inevitable. There was a second of stillness before K’Sirr’s gentle voice met her ears: “Come on now, you’re tougher than this,” were his first words to her. She looked up to finally meet his gaze - his eyes were kindly but wild, a creature seeking only excitement and adventure. He extended his hand out towards hers as he continued, “I saw you earlier, before this all began - you would have stared down three fireballs if it hadn’t been for that lad who pushed you out of the way.” He let a stifled chuckle slip at the memory, but Ka’l felt her anger flare with a monstrous passion.

“You killed him...you said you didn’t want to hurt anyone, but you killed him, he’s dead...he tried to save me, and now he’s dead....” Ka’l bit back tears as the words spilled from her mouth - she was without fear in this moment, unconcerned of her own safety and mindful only of the injustice dealt to her closest friend aboard the ship.

K’Sirr’s facial features shifted once more to that of great concern. Ka’l heard him call over his shoulder in the direction of one of his men as they hauled a large sack from the hold: “I need you to send for Sasha at once, GO.” He got down on one knee as he spoke two words very softly - “Show me.”

Ka’l got to her feet and led him to the fallen mast. She pulled back the fleece blanket to reveal the young boy, still pinned beneath the weight of the wooden pole.  A half-elf woman with upwards of ten small hoop earrings in each ear came rushing over to K’Sirr’s side then dropped to her knees once she laid eyes on the boy.  Her hands moved swiftly and deftly; Ka’l watched on in amazement as the woman pressed her fingers to his neck and announced, “He’s still alive, but he’s barely breathing - I’ll do my best.” Clutching a serpentine amulet that dangled loosely from around her neck, the half-elf pirate whispered a prayer as a wave of positive energy washed over Mica, and Ka’l sighed in relief when she heard him take a large gasp of air.

Finally able to move, Mica weakly leaned out toward Ka’l as she fell into his arms for a tight embrace. Ka’l hardly heard the woman as she got to her feet to make for the pirate ship. She turned to express her gratitude but saw only K’Sirr standing there with his arms crossed in front of himself, happy to see that the boy had pulled through. Low but still meaningful, Ka’l produced a quick “thanks” and extended her hand for a shake. The tabaxi pirate obliged her and placed his other hand over hers as they shook.

Bending his head to meet Ka’l’s averted gaze, he asked, “What are you doing here with these sailors? I sense you want something more from the sea, and I can teach you how to get it - what say you? Fancy an extended tour aboard the Sea Wolf? You’ll see places you never knew existed and become rich beyond your wildest dreams...we need only find the treasures this world has hidden for us to seek after.” He waited for a reply, but no words came from Ka’l as she stood there, staring off into nothingness as white smoke from extinguished flames mingled with the fog. “Well, can’t say I didn’t offer...it was nice to meet you…” His voice trailed off, anticipating a name to be given. No answer came. “Okay, I’ll leave you to it then,” he finished and turned to leave, walking back towards the gang planks that had been dropped to bridge the two ships.

Ka’l stood there, her mind clouded with indecision. Rich beyond your wildest dreams...what if? What if she could lay up enough gold to return home, move Jido, Jida, and Mama to Felgra to be closer to Papa’s fleet, help purchase a beautiful house? But how could she justify becoming one of the very things that Papa and his men fight so hard to combat?

K’Sirr boarded his vessel, assuming his position near the wheel as the rest of his crew made preparations to set sail again while the few remaining stragglers finished dragging their plunder up into their ship. He pulled a cold sum of sea breeze into his lungs, satisfied with his crew’s haul, when he felt a tap on his shoulder: turning his head, his eyes fell on Ka’l, her two different-colored eyes welling with tears. “It’s Ka’l...my name is Ka’l…” she blurted out as she choked back her emotions, still unsure of her decision.

“Ka’l...is that short for Ka’lya?” he asked, unable to hide a grin. She glanced down and to the side with a frustrated nod. “Alright,” K’Sirr resumed, “well, I’ll call you Ka’l since that’s what you seem to prefer - now what do you say we go find some treasure?”

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Thanks again for any and all who take the time to read - as the backstory of Ka’l Bahriin progresses towards a natural cliffhanger, I’ll be gearing up to introduce another PC next, so stay tuned.  If you’d like to be added to the taglist for these installments, let me know.

Ye Olde Taglist: @serenewrites​, @mayvinwrites​

[lovecraftian-druid]

Pactborn - Part IV

Log #1 - Muu 3rd, 425

I CAN’T BELIEVE I’M A SAILOR NOW. It’s just after nightfall of my first evening at sea, and it still doesn’t feel real.  I’m proud of myself to be able to say that I didn’t get seasick like Papa talked about feeling when he first sailed on a ship. I like the feeling of the waves rocking the boat, and I love the smell of the salty air and the sounds of the sails as they flutter in the ever-changing breeze. Darja said that today was mostly for me to “find my sea legs” and get settled.  

I got to see some really cool sea creatures already: a few dolphins followed alongside the ship a ways, jumping out of the water as they flanked us on either side.  It was one of the most incredible things I’ve ever seen. We saw a whale too, but we weren’t very close to it.  Still, they’re so big that when it sprayed water from its blowhole, it looked like those giant geysers from geography books.

I have my own cot!  It smelled a little, but something weird but exciting happened...I don’t quite no how to explain it, but as I was standing there, thinking of home, thinking of the little things that I knew I was going to miss, it was like my hands were suddenly not my own, moving in strange, somatic swipes and turns, til suddenly, I watched the soiled marks on the cot fabric fade away.  I was really surprised because...to be honest, neither Mama nor Papa have magic, so I didn’t think I did either.  Maybe it’s all this fresh air!  I got excited and decided to try again as practice, and sure enough - I was able to make the cot smell like my sheets at home after Mama freshly washed them in jasmine water. I might have cried a little...I don’t know what made me more happy: the smell of home being right at my fingertips, or the fact that I could make it happen at all. I decided to try one more time, this time concentrating on making a warm bed.  Sure enough, I touched the fabric on the cot and noticed the temperature change, warm to the touch. I’m lying in my warm, clean, sweet-smelling cot right now, and I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.  I can’t wait to tell Mama and Papa all about this when I come home.  Now Papa and I can both share stories at sea.

Log #2 - Muu 4th, 425

Today was pretty rough.  I’m so tired, I can hardly grip the quill to write this. Darja told me that today I was to learn the ropes so that I could start earning my place on the ship and make some coin.  I worked with Bardi - he’s the head midshipman on the Golden Afternoon. I’m not gonna lie, he’s a bit of a hardass. At first I was doing pretty well keeping up - he taught me how to hoist sails, check the rigging, and a few other things that I don’t really remember what their names were (I’ll get it though).  I kind of tried to show off at the beginning and used up a lot of my energy in the first couple hours, not realizing I’d be working that hard all day…

My hands are all chewed up from the rough ropes: they’re blistered and bleeding, and I don’t know what to do because Bardi said I’m gonna be doing it all over again tomorrow, too. There’s another younger kid on the ship - his name is Mica, he’s a genasi from the mountains in Sokoku. He told me that the same thing happened to him on his first day at sea and that he found that wrapping his hands helped a lot.  I’m going to try that, I guess.  I tried using that little bit of magic I found out that I could do yesterday, but it didn’t seem to help.  I wish I could do healing magic like the people at the Sanctuary can… Maybe this little spell is all I can muster though.  I’m still hopeful for more though. 

Log #3 - Muu 5th, 425

I had another dream last night...about the kind man with wings. It feels bizarre saying this, and even reading this as I write, I know I sound crazy, but it had to be real. I had a hard time falling asleep because of how much pain my hands were giving me; but once I drifted off, he visited me.  I couldn’t make out his face since there was no light at all, but I knew it was him...I could make out faint outlines of grey in the darkness, and I could see his wings curled around his sides and his massive shield strapped to his back. He didn’t speak, but just him being there made me sense that he felt...bad for me? Worried, maybe? He gave off a feeling of sadness.  He took me by the hands, and I distinctly remember feeling the pain as it did so at first. But then, I saw our hands begin to glow faintly, and a soothing sensation took over my palms - it felt like the time I burnt my hand on the brick oven and Mama had to rub aloe on them. After that, I must have woken up, because I don’t remember anything else; the dream just sort of ended. But when I sat up in my cot, my hands were completely healed. COMPLETELY. I don’t understand how it’s possible, but I’m so grateful.  

Whoever you are, if you’re here with me now or can read this, who are you? Why do you care about me of all people? Just...don’t ever leave though, okay? And thank you so so much…

Time to get up, eat, and go to work now - I’m not dreading it as much as I was last night.  I’m going to find some cloth to wrap my hands, just to take precautions. Hopefully today won’t be as bad.

Log #4 - Muu 7th, 425

Sorry that I missed a day: yesterday and the day before were pretty wild. On top of doing my regular duties, I was assigned my first night watch (not something I want to do on the regular). I was so tired from all the hard work that day, and then I had to stay up all night… Thankfully, there wasn’t anything to report. One of the other sailors relieved me just as the sun started to rise, and I was able to sleep away most of the day. 

When I woke up yesterday afternoon, we had just dropped anchor offshore from Felgra, the region to the east of Ghaan.  Papa says that his fleet is based out of that region, but Darja said we’re still a ways away from Port Cladach.  Instead, we were taking small rowboats to a coastal town called Fenwilde. It was nice to get a break from working with rigging - I finally got to do something I was good at: loading and unloading cargo.  I learned how to row a boat as we went ashore, and then we delivered some crates to a little shop called “Blink Bottles” and a few sacks of spices to a tavern called “the Boar’s Head.” 

Papa was right when he said that everywhere is a little different from home: there really wasn’t all that much sand as we got closer to the shore; and even then, the mainland was really boggy. And even though we’re still along the southern coast, it was surprising to me that it wasn’t hot - it was actually quite cool...just damp. There were trees everywhere, some of them growing right out of the shallow tributary channels, and everything was SO GREEN. I couldn’t believe how much moss there was in any direction that I looked. While in Fenwilde, we had a little bit of downtime while invoice papers were being reviewed and signed, so I took a quick look around town in an area they told me was called “High End” - they had all sorts of shops there, and one was a clothier. I didn’t realize how lucky I am to have Mama...she always made my clothes for me.  Clothes are expensive.  I was starting to feel chilly at night on the ship, and if other places were like this one, it was likely going to continue to be that way (or colder). I looked around until I found a cheap fleece blanket of emerald green. I bought it and returned to the crew.

When we finished the delivery, we rowed back out to the coastline, then continued out into the oceanic waters. When I got back, the sun was just starting to set - Darja told me to go rest up because I’d be taking the late watch again. I don’t know how I’m going to be able to keep doing this… But I guess it’s only for another week or so.  I’m going to go try to sleep now...hopefully I can get a few hours of rest before they wake me up to take the night shift…

Log #5 - Muu 8th, 425

Last night’s watch was a little scary...as I was up in the crow’s nest (with my new blanket, thank the gods), I saw something off in the distance...it was another ship. I’ve heard rumors of sea bandits, or “pirates,” that sometimes prey on merchant ships in the cover of darkness, and I was terrified that what I saw was just that. The ship looked altogether foreign to me: what I now know to be a red-sailed jong, common among genasi merchants may as well have been the ship of the sea’s most dreadful buccaneer. Fearful and panicked, I nervously played with a piece of copper wire in my pocket from a repair I made earlier and felt a strange tingle in the back of my mind as I whispered over and over again, “Someone’s coming, shitshitshit, something is sailing this way, what the hell do I do…” Before I knew what I had just done, I heard the confused voice of Darja echoing in my head: “Ka’l? Is that you? Who is coming?” I had once again done magic, and I’m still a little unclear what I did to make it happen. I’ve heard about material components sometimes being involved - maybe the wire? Regardless, I flung myself from the crow’s nest, scaling down the rigging as fast as I could, to meet Darja on deck.  He grumpily informed me of my mistake in identifying the ship as ill-willed, assuring me of its safety by pointing out the markings on its sails, before he returned to his quarters to sleep.  I’m sitting in my cot, writing this, unable to fall asleep: I’m still jittery with shock from both finding a new spell and realizing just how easy it can be for a pirate ship to slip into proximity with us if one wanted.

Log #6 - Muu 10th, 425

Today has been a rough day. Darja called me to his cabin after supper.  I figured it was about my two weeks almost being up; maybe he was going to offer me an extension, or something… It turns out he’s just a creep though - he tried to...I don’t know, I think he thought I was interested in him or something. I made it very clear though that I was not. He told me that since I was so disagreeable, I would be on night watches for the rest of my journey back to Khaadeehava but would still be expected to perform my daily duties as well.  

I’m so homesick. I really love it out here on the Turquoise Waves, but I wish it were a different ship with a better captain. I rushed to get all of my chores done right after my watch ended this morning, then came back here to my cot to write a little before trying to get an hour of sleep before I’m needed to mop down the quarterdeck later. My one little twinkle of happiness is that - in my loneliness for home - I found another little bit of magic that I can make: I’m sitting here with my journal in my lap, and sitting on the cot in front of me is Mama...well, not really, but some sort of illusion of her.  She’s sitting at the end of the cot just like she used to do at the bottom of my bed at home when she would come into my room to say goodnight...and she has that warm, soft smile that I miss so much. I wish she were here right now.  I wish I had someone I could hug.  For now, I’ll just hold tightly to my fleece and pretend, I guess...

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Thank you, as always, for following me through this journey of fleshing out one of my PCs’ backstory! If you’re interested in being included on the taglist, just send me a message.

Ye Olde Taglist: @serenewrites, @mayvinwrites​

[lovecraftian-druid]

Pactborn - Part III

Khaadeehava, Lahira Marina.  It was a brisk harvest morning - not cold, mind you, but still…there was a certain extra salty sea breeze in the air that morning. I started my day like every other morning since I turned fifteen: wake up, get dressed, hit up my favorite food stand for two dosas with coconut chutney for breakfast, and head down to the docks for work.  I should have known from the start that today was going to be different though when I had to hear those six awful words: “sorry, we’re all out of coconut.”  Too lazy at that point in the morning to look elsewhere for breakfast but also too foolish to ask for my other options, I told them to surprise me – a mistake indeed, as I found out after my first bite.

Ginger chutney.  Ugh.

Already disappointed with how my day was going, I discarded my breakfast to a large flock of gulls then quickly finger-combed my hair before jogging the rest of the way to the boardwalk in an effort to warm myself up more. Ghaan may not get snow like some of the places Papa had told me about, but it still gets bitter cold late in the year: it was only one of the first few days of the month of Muu, and already the fog that would roll in with the ships would bring a settling of frost on anything it touched.

As I reached the fog-riddled Lahira Marina, my primary senses – being trained to switch over from sight to sound – focused through the blindness, taking in the rhythmic lapping of waves, plaintive crying of seabirds, muffled creaking of wet wooden boards, and occasional thumping of mooring ropes as swaying ships bumped up against them in the shipyard. From memory, I find my way through the icy mist to the old docker, Telfar.  “Is a’ you, Ka’lya?” the portly middle-aged human called out in my direction.

“As per usual, Telfar,” I replied, following the barely visible light of his hooded lantern. “By the way,” I add, slowing my jog to a walk, “you can just call me Ka’l, seriously.”

“Sure, sure,” was his mumbled response, as always.  He stood there, stroking just the right side of his brown and grey mutton chops as he peered out into the harbor. “Got some big loads comin’ in today, mostly from Dawnwilde: salt, ore, that sort of thing. Couple merchants due to arrive today from Hjarta, too – lumber shipment, I think…  Gonna be a busy day for us both, I dare say,” he ruminated aloud.

Just as he said that, the toll of a ship’s bell rang out into the chilly haze, announcing the arrival of our first customers of the day.  Without a word required, we both sprang into action, making ready for the sea vessel to come into port. Telpar bellowed questions and instructions to the ship’s deck officer while I ran out extra mooring and made ready to receive the tossed ropes from the ship itself.  I could see my breath as I heard the ship drop anchor, slowing itself as it calculated its berthing to enter the yard.

Once docked, Telfar would discuss import and export details with the ship’s captain while I would usually board the vessel and coordinate what needed loaded or unloaded with the crew, pitching in with the manual labor. It was amazing, the types of stories these sailors would share with me as we moved cargo – tales of gigantic sea creatures, dangerous sea storms, and merciless pirates. I would always listen with rapt attention and sincere awe, wondering what it would be like to sail the high seas.

The morning pressed on, and the fog eventually dissipated. More and more merchants began pulling in and out of the marina, pushing us to hustle with each new arrival.  By that point, the docks were loud with the jumbled voices of seamen talking amongst themselves or conducting business with one another: many would operate right from their own gangplanks, haggling for surplus merchandise or making trades while others could be seen negotiating passenger rates for those looking to travel.  Opportunistic food vendors would wander down from the Central Bazaar to roast meats on spits in an effort to lure hungry mouths craving the enjoyment of a hot, cooked meal.  Exotic spices and other pleasant aromas filled the air as small puffs of dried herbs and other seasonings sifted naturally from the burlap bags we tossed from the holds of large boats.  Young girls squealed as they hung off of the arms of sailors, both parties enjoying the brief reprieve ashore.  The marina was its very own little slice of the Upper Planes, and getting to experience the daily wonders was – in and of itself – a reward of its own.  Still though, a girl’s got to make a living, and to do so meant rarely getting to stop to enjoy the thrills of the bustling coast.

By noon, a lull had finally graced us with a break in action. The sun glistened and glinted off of the beautiful waves that splashed against the beach as I walked, barefoot, on the sand, staring out into the wide, cerulean expanse of the Turquoise Waves. My mind wandered for a moment or more before Telfar interrupted my contemplations – “Ka’lya! Ka’lya!  I need your swift feet!" I slipped back into my shoes, the insides now scratchy with gritty sand, as I hurried back up to him along the dock.  He was in his usual cheerful mood (he always enjoyed rubbing elbows with ship captains, always claiming that “it never hurt to have a seaman remember your name for a good reason). Standing next to him was a pair of well-dressed men, one of which looked to be of halfling or gnomish descent, the other a smarmy-looking human.

"The captain of the Humble Hermit has an ink shipment for the Painted Lady - I need you to run down to the parlor and fetch her signature: his boys will wheel her crates over straight away: they need to shove off within the hour, and we both know you'll be there and back to us before they finish pulling it off the ship, heh heh," he chortled with residual laughter from whatever had the two of them cracking up moments ago. “Also –” he commented more professionally as he handed me a sealed letter stamped with some reddish-brown wax, “– if you could drop this off to her as well, this gentleman would be most appreciative."  The shorter man made brief eye contact with me before giving me a nod and then returning to his conversation with Telfar.

Seeing this as an opportunity to grab some lunch and perhaps make a little extra coin by way of a tip, I took the letter and headed off towards the Painted Lady, our boardwalk’s popular tattoo parlor. As I sprinted along the busy walkway, I couldn’t help but get the feeling that I was being watched, followed, something.  When I reached the parlor, I made small talk with Nexus, the tiefling woman who ran the shop, before explaining that her shipment was on its way and delivering the special mail. She took the letter, opened it, shook her head, and smiled weakly. “Oh, Darja…thank you for, um, dropping off the note, Ka’l…here, tell him I am fine and give him my regards.” Nexus said as she absent-mindedly signed off on the invoice parchment, drawing a quick but masterful sketch of a sailing ship at the bottom of the document before returning it to me and flipping me a copper piece. “Enjoy what’s left of the nice weather!”

I took back off into the crowd, pressing my way to a food stand to grab a bite to eat (courtesy of Nexus), then hurriedly returned to Telfar and the man who apparently wrote the letter. "Ahoy!" Telfar hollered toward me as I jogged, "I told ya, didn't I?  It’s like she’s got wings, she’s so fast." I felt myself blush at the compliment but appreciated it all the same.  "Come, come, give the captain his papers," he said as he straightened up, beaming with pride.

The man’s eyes were dancing with hope more than expectation as he asked me, “"Did she give you anything? A letter or something maybe?”  Knowing it likely wasn’t as much as he wanted, I handed him the signed document – he unrolled it with initial excitement then sniffed the spot where she had signed with bizarre reverence before giving the air a hard sniff, holding his head up high, and pocketing the parchment.  I felt my face attempt to hide a contorted look of confusion as he turned to address us: Mr. Telfar, this longshoreman of yours, I simply must have her as part of my crew – not only is she fast, but she’s a welcome sight for sore eyes such as myself and my sailors…” His eyes settled on my own as he continued, “It wouldn’t be much for starters, just a midshipman position to replace one of my former members who was recently carried off by a harp—errrr, seems to have abandoned ship…so, what say you?”

I couldn’t believe my ears: this was all I’d ever wanted, all I had ever dreamed about doing with Papa – a chance to sail? How could I turn down such an opening? Perhaps gaining some experience at sea would afford me an opportunity to go with Papa on his next voyage the next time he returned home? But what would Mama, Jida, and Jido do without me in the meantime for the much-needed income? My mind raced with indecision and – as though he read it – the merchant sweetened the pot: “Do you think you’d be up for making some coin for a ten-day tour aboard the Golden Afternoon? I’d pay you five copper a day, not a coin less.”

Quickly doing the math in my head, I calculated the profit: working with Telfar, I was making a mere two copper a day, plus a tip if I was lucky – that worked out to a modest two silver pieces by the end of a ten-day.  If I did the tour, I’d make over double that in the two weeks I’d be at sea; and I’d be living out my biggest dream as a bonus.  Still, my conscience weighed heavy. “I’m…I’m very interested, but I’d…uh…like to think about it…I mean, if that’s alright,” I said as my voice trailed off in tongue-tied gratefulness and hesitancy. While Telfar looked relieved at this, the captain looked disappointed.

I opened my mouth to break the awkward silence when a hand gently but firmly settled on my shoulder – turning my head to see who was there, I saw Vormesius, the elderly green dragonborn who owned the jeweler’s shop on the boardwalk. “What do I overhear about you going on an adventure, Miss Ka’lya?” wheezed the old man, his jaw slack between words. I again attempted to speak but felt the grip tighten on my shoulder as he continued, “you know, I bet that would really make your folks proud, them having another seafarer in the family – maybe you can try out that nice compass your father gave you?”

It was at that moment that I knew something was awry: not only was it out of character for the sweet, aged jeweler to insert himself into other people’s conversations; but I definitely had not had enough interactions with him to have ever brought up my compass. Turning my head to meet his gaze, I realized that the golden, vertical-pupiled eyes into which I stared were not Vormesius’s…these were the eyes of an acquaintance long since forgotten, only to be resurrected from the depths of my childhood memories.

I knew not what else to do – I stared, unblinking, into his eyes as I addressed the merchant, but only in words: “uh, yes, okay…let me get my things together and tell my family, if that’s okay, Captain…?” I asked, waiting for his reply (as well as his name).

“Oh, sorry, yes, that’s more than acceptable,” he responded, pleased. “And the name is Darja – pleased to officially meet you and welcome you as one of the crew.” He extended his hand to shake mine and, after doing so, looked about for a moment before absently asking, “hmm, where did that dragonborn go in such a hurry? Oh well; meet me aboard the Golden Afternoon in one hour – adventure awaits!”

I found myself running again, in a complete daze. What was I doing? How was this happening? And why did that tabaxi man show back up? Why (and how) was he disguised? It had to be him, it just had to be. Those eyes, that voice…what was his name again?  It’s been so long…

Making it back home, I sped through the house, chaotically gathering up anything I thought I might find useful while at sea. Surprised to find me home so early, Mama followed me into my room: “Ka’lya, you’re home early – what are you doing?”

Anxiety springs up from my stomach and clutches at my heart as I swallow hard, not wanting to say what I knew had to come next. “I’m leaving, Mama. I’m going to join a crew for two weeks at sea.  I’m going to sail like Papa and bring home lots of coin to help the family. Don’t…don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine…I’ll be back before you know it.” The words spilled out of my mouth in a mess of stoic sadness.  Mama’s eyes met mine and she silently watched me pack, eyes glistening with tears, as she stood in my bedroom doorway holding some laundry.

Eventually finding words, she stifled a sob before saying, “I knew this day would come…I just didn’t think it would happen so soon…please look after yourself, and write to me often, and remember the stories your father has told you: do the wise thing - not the brave thing - if you want to tell the tale." I could hardly look at her without wanting to break down in tears myself. She reached out, tucking my hair behind my ear then pulling me into a tight, warm hug. “You are so loved, Ka’lya – I will miss you so much.  Come back to me, okay?”

I nodded, fighting back the hot moisture pooling in the corners of my eyes. As I released from our embrace, something clattered from my pack to the floor.  We both looked down to see what it was before I realized – “the compass…I’m bringing it with me,” I explained.  

She smiled, halfheartedly. “I hope it brings you back to me soon then.”

I rushed in to steal one more hug and a swift kiss on the cheek before bolting back out the door, at which point I allowed the tears to come streaming down my cheeks as I rushed back to the port district. Breathless, I searched for Darja’s ship – my ship.  It didn’t take long to locate what looked at first like the regular old merchant schooner; however, its name (the Golden Afternoon) was embossed in brilliant metallic-colored paint and seemed to shimmer as the sun reflected off the waters beneath it.  The furled sails appeared to have a sandy circular emblem with a gold ship's wheel inside it, advertising it to other sailors as a merchant vessel. "Are you ready to board now?" Darja asked. "Just think, in two weeks' time, you'll have made fifty copper pieces by the time we loop back around!  And I’ll tell ya what, if you feel up to the task after the first ten-day, we can make it a solid 100 so that you can bring your mum a shiny gold piece if you think you can do two more weeks. Oh, the stories you'll bring home, too!"

Darja chattered on for what felt like an eternity, trying to talk up the whole scenario. But as we raised the anchor and shoved off to sea, all I could do was lean over the stern and watch Khaadeehava – the only place I’d ever known – fade out into the distance as we sailed westward into the sunset.

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Hope you enjoyed this week’s (belated) installation of Ka’l’s backstory!  If you enjoyed reading this, feel free to ask to be added to the list!

Ye Olde Taglist: @serenewrites​, @mayvinwrites

[lovecraftian-druid]

New Writblr Intro (or so I’m told)

Hello, world - I’m Sam.  I’m a 30 year-old with thousands of dollars in student loans for a writing degree that didn’t get me a writing gig.  So here I am! 

When I’m not working at my dead-end desk job during the day, I’m likely either working my secondary job on the farm my husband and I have or doing some sort of extracurricular activity (like volleyball, Skyrim, Beat Saber, mini painting, or DUNGEONS & DRAGONSSS).  

To speak to the latter two of that happy-fun-time list, yes - I am a total D&D nerd, and if you give me an inch of D&D attention, I’m gonna try to take a mile.  I love talking about / hearing about other people’s characters, quests, and encounters, so by all means: if you want to gush to someone, choose me. 

While I’ve had the opportunity to briefly play as a PC in three different campaign settings, I’ve recently had the absolute pleasure of taking up the mantle of Dungeon Master.  As a dusty writer who hadn’t had to do “serious writings” since 2012, I was teeming with excitement to get back in the saddle and “cut my teeth” (as it were) with this writing project: building a fantasy world from the bottom up.

Having no former experience as a DM, I admittedly had a rocky start, not knowing what in the world I was doing, but after a few weeks of playing with my PCs, I was hooked...and not just on the game, but on their characters and the developments they were experiencing.  I had been wanting to find inspiration to write a book over the last view years, and it was at this point that I knew what my inspiration was - these (unlikely) heroes.

My best friend/ cousin (@serenewrites) has been my greatest support system and technical support through the last few months, pushing me to write and coaching me through the various obstacles I’d encounter (for example, learning how to Tumblr), so I owe a major thanks to her - #soulmates, Kate. ;-)

The title of my WIP will be the same as the campaign’s: “Beyond the Forsaken Mountains” (which I shall for future reference refer to as BtFM, not to be confused with BTfM, lol).  It will be a high-fantasy setting set in what D&D calls “the Material Plane.” While the story will likely be stretched to multiple installments, the actual end of the story has yet to be defined as the tale is being “written” as my PCs play it out as characters, making my job as an author that much more enjoyable and easy.  As a teaser though, themes will include:

    - fantastic beasts and magical creatures

    - the battle between good and evil

    - the discovery of self

    - land and sea adventures

    - heartwarming and heart-wrenching story arcs

As a quick introduction to the main characters you’ll see in this WIP, here are the story’s heroes:

    - Ka’lya (”Ka’l”) Bahriin, an aasimar warlock pirate

    - Roe Rolen, a wood-elf druid glade child

    - Zorog, a half-orc cleric of Leviathan

    - Torinn, a red dragonborn sorcerer haunted one

    - Mystigan, an air genasi rogue of the Air-Kin Assassins

    - Thialeece (”Thia”) Brogan, a high-elf paladin of Kalera

    - Gae-El (”Wildeye”) Kalagaga, goliath barbarian outlander

While there are many PG elements of this story (most often relating to death and gore), my PCs are also total goof balls, so it also has moments of lightheartedness and joy.  The story has its own major story arch, but the real enjoyment comes from watching these characters meet, become friends, and then grow invested in helping each other achieve their own personal goals while traveling all over the world’s largest continent, “Baenomir.”

If an Expectation-Tolkien-Versus-Reality-Adventure-Time style story appeals to you, you can follow the character backstories I’m currently building and posting at my more serious page, @lovecraftian-druid; alternatively, if you’re a fellow DM looking for encounter inspo, check out my looser, more random D&D-themed posts like memes, encounters from my campaign, or ideas for future quests by following my other page, @an-oger-in-the-wild!

[lovecraftian-druid]

Pactborn - Part II

NOTE #1: This is a chapter-long post of a character’s backstory, so hit your Keurig for a warm cuppa and curl up under a blanket, cuz this isn’t a quick scroll sort of post.

NOTE #2: I’m changing this submission up from the second person tense of the previous post (the one I used when talking to my PC during her zero level session) to the first person tense, just to shake things up and try on different styles. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as we enjoyed experiencing it!

I wake up to the warmth of the morning sun on my face and the smell of bread baking downstairs: normally, this would feel like any other morning here in Khaadeehava, but this morning feels different. Maybe it’s because today the annual celebration of Al’adwa, the festival of Solune where everyone eats street food, plays games, and watches the solar eclipse; or maybe it’s because of the amazing dream I had again of the nice man with the shield who takes me flying over the city and the ocean (sometimes, I like to pretend that the big ships I see in my dreams are Papa’s); or maybe it was the weird feeling in my stomach when I woke up: I thought – no, felt – like someone was watching me…

Regardless, I throw my legs over the side of the bed, glancing over at my outfit for later, as Mama calls up to me, “Kal’ya, darling, a letter is just in – I think you know who sent it!” With my gangly form, I sprint like a whirlwind down the stairs to see Mama fixing breakfast in the kitchen and a letter waiting for me on the supper table – on it is the seal I’ve come to recognize and love: the insignia of the Felgran Fleet, the royal navy of the next region over from Ghaan. Papa joined the navy when I was five years old, and his work has kept him away at sea for sometimes months at a time for the last three years. It’s so exciting to read his notes when he can write though! He tells me stories of all sorts of different people, different types of weather, and strange sea creatures he’s had to encounter. I carefully tear along the side of the envelope to pull out his message to me – it reads:

                                              ~ Wayfarer’s Tavern ~

Savita 22nd, 410

My little cinnamon stick,

I hope this letter finds you well - my journey has taken me around the coast again into the frigid waters of the Gheaţă Ocean to a region known as Chladny (have you read about this place in your studies?). It never ceases to amaze me how we are only a mere 30 days apart and yet, where hot sand lies beneath your feet at home, frozen snow lies beneath mine as I stand here on the Zamuerzat Wharf. How I wish I could bring you with me! Perhaps when you are 10, then we will sail around the entire continent of Baenomir. Until then, I hope you will enjoy this trinket (called a “compass”) I picked up in one of the shops in the port - it is Dwarven made and is said to be able to tell you which direction you travel. May it direct your paths until mine direct me home to you. I know I have been gone longer than usual, but I may be home within the next month.

Give your mother my love and save the best of it for yourself,

Papa

I miss Papa so much! And I want to go sailing so badly! Sometimes, when Mama sends me on errands, I’ll go to the docks down in the Lahira Marina just to watch the ships go in and out of the port. I’d give anything to sail a great big ship like one of those.

Before my mind can wander far, I remember the part in the letter where Papa mentioned a trinket – my eyes scan the table for a package and quickly find it and unwrap it: it’s a…metal box? I study it more closely. Dad has told me before about dwarves – that they’re a little shorter than most humans but are very, very smart and can make the most incredible things out of metal! As I turn the “compass” over in my hands, I see that the bronze casing holds some notches and a couple dials behind a thick piece of glass. I spin around the room and watch the needles whirl around, and it makes me giggle. Rubbing my thumbs over the front of the compass, I feel the cold, shaped metal shaped into the four points on the device – they are of four faces, and all have tiny little red gems fitted into their eyes, ears, and foreheads. A couple of the faces look a little creepy, but one looks like a tiger and another looks like a grumpy version of Sultan Hunab! The top face, nearest the “N,” has a large hat like the sultan wears, and it’s around this hat that the cord of the compass is wrapped and tied.

Excited to show Mama, I run into the kitchen with my letter and trinket. “Look, Mama! Look what Papa sent!” I slap both down onto the table, eager for her to read the letter and to marvel at my new treasure. “Papa says he got this for me and that it shows me where I’m going! Look!” I shove the compass closer towards her face, obscuring her vision for a moment as her head jerks backwards in surprise.

“Hold on, Ka’lya, hold on, let me read your letter first!” she says as she chuckles warmly with shared enthusiasm. She finishes reading the letter then extends her hand to examine my gift before laying eyes on the grimacing faces, letting out a short gasp, and nearly throwing the compass as she recoils from it. I scramble clumsily to catch it before it hits the ground, barely getting a grip on it before it clambers to the floor. I know the look I give her is one of confusion and frustration, and she quickly tries to regain control of herself. “I’m sorry, I—I don’t know what came over me…” she says as she wipes her hands on her apron and goes back to scrubbing out a bread pan.

Mama is usually a pretty tough lady: she does everything for Jida, Jido, and me. She might not be an adventurer like some of the people in the stories Papa tells me, but she still is kind of like a hero – she cooks and cleans and makes things for Jida and Jido’s stall down in the bazaar sometimes. Mama told me once that she even saw a dragon, but she doesn’t like to talk about it; she said it makes her sad when she thinks about it. Maybe this reminded her of something that made her sad once…

I don’t bring up the compass again as I quickly gulp down the delicious breakfast Mama made and, after putting my plate in the sink, I run upstairs to get ready for the day. Mama saved up some extra silver to buy me a new outfit for the Al’adwa celebration tonight – a new pair of pants with a nice tangerine and turquoise shirt. When Papa comes home, he brings home lots of coin to help support us while he’s gone; but the longer he’s gone, the more we have to do what Mama calls “cut corners.” She says that sometimes you have to do difficult things to get by. But for tonight, she must have put that aside, because as I look in the mirror, holding the sleeveless, silky-soft shirt up to my torso, I feel like it is much too nice for me to ever wear out of the house.

Carefully pulling the shirt over my head as though it could tear at any moment, I smooth it down over my long waist then begin to brush my long, tangled black hair. I look up for a moment to comb out a knot, and I meet my own glance in the reflection – I’m not much for prettying myself up, so looking in the mirror is a rare occurrence and seeing my two different color eyes always catches me off guard. My right eye is a dark brown just like Mama and Papa’s; but my left eye is a pale blue. Jida says that that is where an angel must have kissed me before I was born. Mama tells me that it’s unique and something to be proud of, but the other kids in town usually just make fun of me over it.

I must have been upstairs for a while now, because I’m surprised when Mama yells up to me that it’s time to head into the market district for the festivities. Before leaving my room, I brush a long section of hair down over my left eye. Joining Mama on the veranda, we walk hand in hand to the bazaar. “Your cousins Ravi and Baru will probably be here, you know – you’ll have to try to find them so that you can play together,” Mama encourages me, “just be sure to meet me back and Jida and Jido’s stall before the eclipse makes it get too dark, alright?”

“Don’t worry,” I assure her. Even though the nice man that visits me in my dreams tells me that my blue eye is a gift, I still don’t know if I like it. I wish sometimes that I were just a normal kid, nothing special. Then maybe I would fit in better.

We meander slowly down the dusty downward slopes of the residential district to the Central Bazaar, and Mama coaxes me to run off while she visits with her friends. I wander aimlessly through the sandy streets for a while, picking up a few dropped pieces of copper and finding myself a food vendor where I buy a kabob – I eat it cautiously, almost leaning forward with each bite, careful not to drip any of the spicy sauce on my new outfit.

As I continue my half-hearted search for my cousins, a foot shoots out from behind a street booth, tripping me and causing the rest of my kabob to go rolling down the path, getting coated in dirt and dust. I look up, surprised, to find two other children pointing and laughing at me – Sai and Danikka. Sai, a scarlet-skinned fire genasi, is a notorious bully, and Danikka, a blue dragonborn, simply runs with him because she’s the tallest girl in our small little school and all the other kids are afraid of her.

“Why don’t you watch where you’re going, weird eyes?” Sai goads me.

“AAAAWWWWWW, you gonna cry?” Danikka whines as she chimes in, making me feel that much smaller as she towers over my body, now covered in dirt and kabob sauce. A fire begins to burn deep within me, and my ears and neck start to flush with anger as I pick myself up off the ground. “If you can’t watch your step with those eyes, then maybe you only need one of them!” Danikka threatens, and I barely get my fists up in front of my face in time to deflect her right fist as it comes sailing towards my left eye. Relief floods my system for a moment, and I let my guard down too soon as her opposite hand shoots out with a parry, hitting me square in the eye socket. I stumble backwards in pain, holding my left eye and trying not to cry; disoriented by the thumping of blood as my face begins to swell, I trip again – this time on myself – and fall backwards into a vacant market booth.

I scramble, nearly bear-crawling part of the way until I can properly erect myself, as I watch Sai closing in on me, a cruel grin on his face. He grabs for my ankle as I right myself, only catching the fabric on my loose, baggy new pant leg instead, causing the seam to split as I wriggle out of his grip. I dart off into the streets, my left eye wet with eye-watering pain, and I can hear the two of them giving chase as I dart like a gazelle in and out of alcoves and alleyways, trying to lose them.

After toppling a basket-weaver’s display stand to slow them down, I zigzag my way to a side street and duck beneath another empty booth where I crawl inside the booth’s sliding compartment door beneath the countertop. I wait here for what feels like forever, hearing them find my route, search briefly for me, then move on, still calling my name in unnatural sing-songy voices. I emerge from my hiding place, looking about feverishly for any signs of them, before an altogether different voice takes me by surprise.

“Why do you run, child?” asks a deep, velvety voice from behind me. I jump and turn with my fists raised in reactive terror. Rather than Sai or Danikka though, I see a tall tabaxi man, striped black and orange with a white neck. He stands from his stool behind the merchant booth next to mine, and I can tell there is no way he works at the bazaar: his clothing is much too fancy-looking to be a merchant. He steps forward to share my booth with me, his striped tail flitting back and forth gently from beneath his jade and gold colored brocade robe.

I keep my fists raised, mostly out of mind-numbing fear, as he walks softly on padded feline feet. “Don't allow those hooligans to cause you any despair - I can tell that you are strong and will go on to great things,” he reassures me with a wink, slowly and cautiously bringing one hand up to dust off my shoulders while the other hand lifts a pipe to his mouth. Squinting with my one good eye, I do a double-take before realizing that there is something off about this man’s hands since they look like they are on the wrong wrists. I catch myself staring and quickly – and likely obviously – try to avert my eyes. He doesn’t seem to either notice or care as he continues, “Oh, where are my manners, I suppose I should tell you my name so that I'm not a stranger: you may call me Gilgapaka. And what is yours?"

I swallow a hard, dry lump in my throat before looking up into his large, golden, vertical-slitted eyes – “My name is Ka’l,” is all I can get out. My whole head is now throbbing with pain, and I feel too dizzy to run even though my mind is telling me I should; even so, he seems kind enough to feel bad for me. My eyes, his hands…maybe we’re not all that different after all? Maybe he knows how I feel? Wishing Papa was here, I break down in tears and briefly sob into the tiger-striped man’s side before quickly pulling myself back and rubbing my eyes dry.

“My, what a lovely name that is,” the tabaxi gentleman says as he gently brushes my hair from my face, tucking some of it behind my left ear, “could you write it down for me?" He pulls from his pocket a large piece of parchment covered in lots of beautifully-written words, a lot of them pretty long. I feel bad writing on the paper as it looks important, so when he offers me his piece of charcoal, I try to squeeze my name down in the bottom section that doesn’t have any words on it. He holds it up to the waning sunlit sky as the moons begin their encroachment upon the sun, slowly closing in on both sides of it with each passing moment leading up to the midday eclipse that is to take place in a mere matter of hours. I look up at the parchment, too – I feel a small amount of shame at the sight of my penmanship, shaky with leftover adrenaline coursing through my body like a frightened mouse. He seems pleased with it though since I see him smile at it before saying, “Thank you – I hope we meet again soon, young Ka'l. If I see those nasty children again, I’ll be sure to teach them a lesson for you…and remember: you’re very special. Don’t go forgetting it."

I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. He takes one more long puff from his pipe before leaving me alone in the abandoned booth and striding off into the street. I rub my eyes again, but when I look back up, he is gone altogether from the path. Suddenly curious, I rush out into the street, looking this way and that way for any sign of him among the other people milling about in the bazaar, but there is no sign of him anywhere. I don’t even hear the voice of Mama calling out to me as I look down at my clothes…there is not a stitch out of place nor stain to be found.

Quick credit to my amazing cousin (and - coincidentally - the person behind this PC) for helping me with the amazing photos up top.

If you’re interested in keeping up to date with posts on our story’s characters and their origins, let me know (and thank you to all who already have interest)!

Ye Olde Taglist: @serenewrites​, @mayvinwrites​

[lovecraftian-druid]

Pactborn - Part I

This is the first installment of one of my PCs’ backstories: meet Ka’lya (”Ka’l”) Bahriin. Though she is of celestial heritage, she is unaware of her aasimar abilities and believes herself to be simply human. In this opening scene to her initial private session (prior to starting the campaign), Ka’l gets brief snippets (while in-utero) of an exchange between her mother and an otherworldly entity. A plea is made, a bargain is struck, and the mark of a creature is placed on the unborn Ka’l, sealing a deal that would include her in this creature’s collection of many more children like her to come...these children are known as “the Pactborn.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You have yet to take your first breath, see your first face, smell your first scent.

But you can hear.

Muffled as it may be deep inside your mother’s womb, you hear the gentle and steady sounds…SIFFFFF…SIFFFFF…SIFFFFF…footsteps…you hear two sets of footsteps…one man's, one woman's, walking through sand… you're traveling, but to where, you know not…

"Are you sure this is the way?" asks the woman carrying you inside her weakened and exhausted body.

"Yes, I promise, we're heading south…it's going to be a few days though…" says the man's voice, dry and scratchy.

"We're nearly out of water, Hossam - we need to find more water…"

Time passes… Eventually, you hear the crackling of what you will someday learn to be fire and a warmth against the space in which you grow.

"I'm off to look for something we can eat…wish me luck," the man says.

"Good luck - may Rakisa be with you," the woman replies.

SIFFFF…SIFFF…SIFFF…the footsteps fade… You hear whispers, too soft to make out…the woman sounds like she is crying…and praying, perhaps…? Maybe begging?

A short time passes…you hear her continued weeping with intermittent sobs…and then, that growingly familiar sound…SIFFFF…SIFFF…SIFFFFF…footsteps, approaching again…these footsteps sound different though: they're softer…padded…

Suddenly, with a gasp, the woman jerks, frightened. You feel yourself jostled about from the outside as you hear a low, smooth voice resonate from this new creature. "Good evening, my lady - allow me to come closer…what do you desire?" You hear murmurs…questions…more weeping…then, suddenly, you feel a seizing searing pain and hear a stifled scream from the woman – your mother. Shivers, the catching of breath, then steady breathing. "It is a deal then," says the mysterious voice.

"Is that all? Is that all you require?" the woman asks.

The soft footfalls that had been getting further away stop and the mysterious voice replies, "your homage will be paid - but not until she is ripe to harvest from your arms." The footfalls fade as you hear the woman begin to softly weep again…