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DnD Homebrew By: Bee Contents: The Rhox, Racoon Folk and Cephalid races Backgrounds for the 5 families of New Capenna Other Races of New Capenna Humans, Half Elves, Elves (Capennan Elves have small horns), Aaracokra, Tabaxi, Tiefl...
Hey everyone!
I may have spent the whole of this afternoon making some 5e homebrew for Streets of New Capenna. You have three new races, and backgrounds for the 5 families based on the Ravnica Guild backgrounds from the Guildmaster’s Guide! Hopefully you enjoy it!
Park Heights. Not penthouse. But it didn't need to be. He looked out the window and gave a deep sigh. The shimmering liquid laid still in the glass. It was supposedly a vintage, but given the history of it, wasn't all Halo? No matter. It tasted fine anyways.
It was a fine enough view. He never really had much taste for the city, but there was a kind of beauty to it. The lights were like stars, forming their own constellations that foretold avaricious prophecies. "Fitting," he thought aloud. "The demons and the ones they consort with are trapped in the cage they built together."
"You know that there's nothing out there except for maybe a couple rabid stragglers, right?"
An unfamiliar voice rang through the office, and the ogre turned, cocking an eyebrow. A young-looking devil in a flat cap and a pair of overalls with the left button torn off was standing in the doorway to the office. A pinched scowl marred with grease was worn well on their face, in addition to a pair of brass knuckles clenched in their fists.
"Well hello there." Panic didn't enter his voice, but rather a faint curiosity. "I wasn't made aware that I had any other appointments today, especially this late at night."
"Yeah, no shit, gumshoe." A glint on one of the intruder's knuckles caught his eye. Riveteers. Figured. "I hope you've said your prayers, 'cause I'm about to make you see angels."
Silence hung in the air.
"I'm sorry, but is there any particular reason for this? I know I'm not exactly the proletariat, but I don't think that I'm your usual target, much less one worth having beaten in his own office. I'm nobody special."
"Bull. You've got Halo, and we both know that it makes New Capenna run. Even waste-dwellers know that."
The dapper ogre looked down at the glass and chuckled, setting it down on the polished desk, next to a file folder held together with a fancy winged paper clip. "That I do, that I do. It wasn't cheap, either. Would you care for a glass?" He pulled out a drawer and set a large clear decanter on the surface of the desk, nearly full of the shimmering liquid.
"What? Are you loony? I want well more than a single glass, you dope, I'm getting everything you got." The Halo seemed to swirl at the sound of the devil's displeasure. "I didn't get all the way up here just to sit and have a chat, I came here for a reason."
"And what is that reason if you don't mind me asking?"
Their guard dropped. It faltered for only a split second, but it was enough for the ogre to take notice. "How about you and I make a deal. I must say, I've gone through lengths to make sure I'm relatively safe. You're certainly talented enough to make it in a town like this. I'll be one of the first to give you an opportunity."
Another stiff silence filled the space between them.
"You know what they do to people that go against their orders?"
"Of course," he stated bluntly. "Same as the others would, with a little wiggle room to keep the message on-brand."
"…I'll hear you out."
"Excellent. Hold still." The entrepreneur raised a single hand, palm facing the young upstart. As he did, a shadowy substance began to pour out of the brawler, coalescing into a single humanoid form, sitting on the edge of the desk. "Win, and you can take anything you want from this room. Lose, and be swallowed by your sins."
They were shocked. This was unlike anything that they had ever seen before in their life. Who was this person? And who were they working for? Looking into the figure opposite them, they noticed long, curved horns, a featureless face, void of thought or emotion, and a familiar signet in the middle of both of its knuckles. It was frightening. Whatever this… thing was, it was a part of them, something that this strange man had drawn out from the deepest and darkest part of their soul. It left a seed of worry at the bottom of their stomach, that failure would mean a fate worse than death. But at the same time, the questions that this strange petticoat drew up burned into their skin.
They slowly rolled up their sleeves and stanced up, locking onto the shadow with determination. "Bring it."
The shade pushed off the desk and mirrored the upstart perfectly. They circled in the middle of the room for a moment, before a first move was made. Jabs and roundhouses flew, skin bruised, and bones cracked. After what seemed like a nasty uppercut, the brawler cracked their neck, before burying their fists into the hazy form of their opponent over and over again. Just when it seemed like the smoky facade could strike back, another hit came in, until it was lying on the ground, oozing jet black ichor that faded into fog. Soon enough the form sublimated entirely, leaving behind only purple spots as evidence of ever being.
The ogre clapped slowly. "Well done. You're a very skilled fighter. Even when I feared the worst, you stood tall overcame the adversity of the situation." A gentle shove of the Halo-filled glass made it to the hand of the victor. "Drink. Then choose. You may take any and all things in this room, including my life if you so wish."
As they felt skin and bones knit themselves back together, they glanced around the room. A few paintings, the large decanter, the man's sterling cufflinks. After lingering on the sleeves of the suit, they noticed a lone hand on the folder. "What's that?" A genuine inquiry escaped their lips.
A smirk grew on the entrepreneur's face. "The exception. You can have anything else. I'll even call staff to help you carry it."
"I want to know what's in the folder."
"I'm not at liberty to discuss. You know how Brokers are."
"You said anything, and I want to know what's in that folder." Anger started to seep into the words.
A chuckle escaped his mouth. "This document is worth more than everything else in this room combined, save the desk."
"Then I'll pay for it."
He indignantly scoffed, "With beggar's change?"
"No jackass, with two paintings in frame, a solid wood desk with a minibar, a decanter of Halo with matching glasses, one crystal chandelier, a package of faux gold paperclips, two fountain pens, a ream of paper, and a rug so goddamn ugly that not even Ziatora would put it in her stinkin' stash."
For the third time that night, silence spoke. Then, without a word, the man took the folder, removed the paperclip, and handed a singular piece of paper to the upstart. At the top of the page, in bold, read three little words; "Report of Adoption."
So a good friend of ours, Mae, is doing a cover of one of the songs on the New Capenna Soundtrack. She is covering the song, “Angel Inside”. She’s an amazing singer and please check out her cover.
Welcome to New Capenna slick. If ya wanna survive these streets you need to join up with one of the 5 families. Before you go shopping around and making some accidental enemies let’s see which of the 5 fit ya best.
Hey all! We didn’t see anything like this around and so we made an (admittedly simple to guess) Uquiz for which of the families of New Capenna you should join! Check it out for some random fun!
Hey everyone! We have another 9 Hells fic. This time, we have Maeve and Dorata in this one. The two are having a nice little spar. Keeping up with one another and not holding back as they trade blows.
They aren’t supposed to be doing this.
He feints an attack, then swings a haymaker at her. She deflects with the sword.
Her muscles ache. She’s built for deskwork, not for this.
Then again, technically she isn’t here.
She’s not here, in this dusty arena, sparring with a man twice her size, deep in Riveteer territory.
Of course, technicality is the air she breathes. She’s not here to anyone unimportant. She’s here because he is important.
They circle each other, waiting for an opening. This is the part of fighting Maeve lives for, the dance portion, the elegance.
They exchange more blows. His get more and more wild, hers more and more reserved, focusing on defense. The sword she’s using is probably going to get dented. Unimportant.
The fight ebbs and flows, like all fights do. They both get in some good hits. Luckily, he’s got enough sense to hold back.
She wonders if she can outlast the anger. The hurt… the hurt she can’t outlast. But she can get through the anger. Help with the release.
She had had to convince him that it was even a good idea to start this fight. Both this sparring match, and what caused it.
Dueling in a political sense is her domain. Writing up her cases, presenting airtight evidence, dominating the competition with the pen not the sword.
It’s not where he likes to fight. But that was the point, of course. The point was to get a fight ring for people with prosthetics. And that was certainly important enough to fight for.
Of course, the powers that be have a lot of sway. And you can be right, you can have all the reasons and the money all lined up.
And they can still fuck you over, and you can still be back to square one, except this time all your hopes are crushed, and all you can feel is anger.
The fight has devolved by this point, Dorata hitting the wall just as much as he aims a swing at her. This is the part of physical fighting she dislikes, the deconstruction. The shattering of an intricate, twirling thing into base violence and rage.
She puts down her weapon. Fully drops it. It’s not useful to her anymore.
He stares at her, blankly, brow furrowed.
She flops onto the floor on her back, looking up at the high arched ceiling. He follows suit a moment after. There’s a moment of silence, there. Just the two of them, breathing hard, staring up at an unfeeling, cold hard ceiling.
She expects the silence to hold, for them to lay there, exhausted, letting the emotions drain into fatigue.
It… does not.
He crumples, turns onto his side, shaking with silent, tearless sobs. She turns to curl up next to him, to run a hand through his hair, providing wordless comfort.
The real comfort will come later, of course. Once they win. They’ve lost the battle, for sure, but the real fight is yet to begin.
She’s going to enjoy sicking Persephone on these fools.
Hey everyone! Here is the next fic for 9 Hells AU. This time we have a Zain solo fic as we get a peak into him and a little bit of his work environment.
He had five minutes of peace before someone knocked on the door. Five minutes to do whatever he wanted before chaos unleashed. Before negotiations were to be made. He had all the reasons to be bitter, to be angry. In fact he should, but he rolls it right off him instead of sinking in and twisting the way he thinks. He needed to focus. His personal matters shouldn’t quell in business. If the whole economy goes down it’s going to be his fault and no one else. He looked down at the desk of messy papers and reviewed his notes once more.
‘You can meet a challenge with humility, grace and a brave soul, or you can do the opposite. And though these things are never easy, that each time is significant and important, and we need this to get us through, we do get to choose our response to some significances and how open we are to learning the lessons we have sewed. Emerging more empathic than we were before but choosing the wrong choice could turn the tides into a devastating matter…’
He tapped a pen against his chin. He always wondered why he was chosen for this position, how he got here. He knew how he got here technically but yet the memories were still hazy, the pain however, permanently stained his mind. And the scars didn’t help with the reminder. He knew in time that he would remember everything that happened. At least that’s what they said, ‘part of the healing process.’
There was a knock at the door. Early of course. He organized the papers into one pile and set them on the desk.
“You can come in.”
He composed himself, straightened his posture and smiled. If he can survive this, he can survive anything.
Hey everyone! This is the next fic for the 9 Hells AU. This time around the ambitious Broker Persephone tries to get dirt on the Maestro leader Rumor.
Rumor was not someone who usually let people come into his office without a damn good reason. Azrael and Maeve were about the only exception on most days of the week. Even Sylvia had the decency to call ahead if she was going to visit for business. Rumor was a punctual sort, and preferred to have things in writing. Sometimes he wondered if he would have made a good Broker in that regard. Regardless he had not expected his latest friend to storm up to his office. Persephone was proving a more and more interesting quarry by the day. Rumor had decided just this once he would buzz her in, and composing himself very quickly leaving his papers on his desk he peaked his elbows on the wood and rested his chin on his fists as she walked in, clearly with practiced confidence. She had likely been practicing this routine for hours now. Looking at herself in the mirror and saying Rumor’s usual tricks would “for sure not work this time.” It was adorable.
“Persephone may I call you by first name at this point?” Rumor asked with a smirk.
“Cut the crap Ru you know I am not here to debate the semantics of my name” Persephone shot back. God she was feisty today. Ru had to hide how pleased he was by this.
“Well now you have to tell me what blesses me with your presence, Angel-face. I assume you are here with more questions about my partner.” Rumor spoke with precision. He knew exactly what button to push and just how hard to push it.
Persephone scoffed, “Trust me fucker, I realize you aren’t gonna give me shit about Az anytime soon.” She couldn’t help herself but smirk and lean a bit more toward the desk, “But no this time Rumor this is all about you” she spoke with a smug tone laced with slight infatuation.
Rumor’s award winning smile was as practiced as every one of his movements, “Now Persephone you flatter me. Tell me what it is about me you want to know?”
Her smirk grew in turn, “I was wondering if you could give me a little bit of a history lesson”
Ru rose an eyebrow, “Now you’re just using my special interests against me. What would you like to know?”
Persephone eyed the window watching the cars drift by from the office. She seemed to lose herself in thought, “I was clearing up some Broker files since as you know I am getting some renown to my name among the family, and there happened to be an ages old cold case, something that ties back to your boss Xander. A loan of his for about, oh.. Hundred thousand gold. Funniest thing, his repayment plan was never processed.”
Rumor seemed more than a little off put. He was expecting quite a few things from this scenario, but an ages old bit of thievery from his boss was not one of them. He took the file full of Persephone’s paper trail and read through it. In true Broker fashion it was air tight. Enviably so honestly. While he respected the Maestros style he did feel they had more than a little to learn from the other families. The Broker’s skill with contracts was one of them.
“So what does this have to do with me?” Rumor spoke with slightly more venom.
Persephone seemed a bit vindicated by his hatred, “Well. You can imagine scheduling a meeting with Lord Xander would set my workload back months, but you Ru.. You are always available for me.”
She moved even closer. He couldn’t help but enjoy the thrill. She was moving pawns and bishops in every word. Rumor had not been on the defensive in a verbal chess match in quite a long time. The desperation to mount a defense was exhilarating. She would have been a damn good enemy. Except for one fatal weakness.
Rumor moved just as close to her, “Well of course I have time for you Angel-face. Now you tell me, what would you be looking for to resolve that case of yours.”
She gave a very fake giggle inches from his face, eyes locked, “Well, the Brokers would like their payment.”
Ru looked to the right, contemplating. “Now if you were to be honest with me. Would you accept alternative forms of payment other than gold?”
Persephone veered back, “There’s the fucking hound dog I know. No Rumor you cannot pay the Broker's that much gold back in a good time for me.”
Rumor only chuckled, “Now when did I say I would only pay you back in that? That’s just pleasure after business is done”
It was Persephone’s turn to look perplexed. Ru grinned in spite of himself.
Check.
“What do you have in mind, Ru?” Persephone asked near a whisper.
“Well, I happen to have an old artifact that once belonged to a Broker agent. One of the first insignia of the family back when we were in a simple enough time to wear our insignia around our neck. It would likely run up double Xander’s debt to the most basic of pawn shop owners, but if you happened to give it back to Spara. Now that is how someone like you gets renown darling~”
Persephone’s eyes widened and it was clear she was lost for words. Rumor had just given her something better than the prize she was after, and it was a prize Ru had no intention of keeping long term anyway. It was a pilfered museum relic just in case a Broker happened to need something from him. There seemed to be a habit for these sorts of interactions between him and Spara’s flunkies. It was insurance. He had 4 similar failsafe's in case the other families pulled similar shit, but Persephone didn’t need to know that.
“....The necklace, something in writing that I had this conversation with you, so the folks back home know who I trounced to get it… and.. And I may take you up on that other form of payment babe” Persephone spoke after a moment.
Checkmate.
Rumor stood up and held out his hand for a shake, “So let it be written, so let it be done”
Persephone shook with a wide grin. Certain she got the better end of the deal. Depending on who you asked, she may have.
Rumor decided to call his car and chat Persephone up with small talk as he went to his archive for the necklace loaded with gaudy stones and gold.
