#rhire

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pacifist healer, with a -1 mod to strength, trying to hit a zombie with a quarterstaff:

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(we made a rock au.) I didn’t actually get to draw Jax or urphen though, I should do that. -Alex characters (c) respective players Art (c) @prismatic-gay/ @chromatic-arts

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DM: And Kaitlyn is sipping wine---

Rhire, OOC: Drinking wine in the communal bath.

DM: Yep.

Jax, OOC: Wait, there’s a bar.

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rhire: parent, worrier, ultimate 5th wheel

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Interlude

Just a quick thing that took place during the second session, after the battle with the spectre. Details at death-by-crit-fail.tumblr.com/story

Settling down next to the boy on the steps – not really a boy, he’s eighteen, but that is still nearly a decade younger than Rhire, and he looks every bit his age, frightened, lonely – Rhire says nothing for a long while. The boy says nothing in reply, his face drawn and pale, hands clenched tightly in his lap. They shake anyway.

Are you an aasimar? I’ve never met one of your kind before!

Neither have I, so that makes two of us. They had smiled a little bit; the boy had laughed upon realizing it was a joke.

“You are not wrong to mourn,” they say at last. The boy doesn’t look up, but his head tilts, slightly. “No matter that the family you grieve for might have hurt you. It is not a crime to love them still.”

“He didn’t hurt me.” It means to come out harsh, but Joseph just shakes further, and his voice breaks. “He never hit me. He-- he took me in, after--- after. He never-- he didn’t. He didn’t.”

“He did not need to,” they tell him gently, and after a moment of hesitation, they untie the knots of their traveling cloak (singed, battered, but in one piece) and drape it over him. Several meters of fabric nearly engulfs him, but it is warm, and Rhire has seen shock enough times to know how to deal with it. “My father is a nobleman and a general. He never would have beaten his firstborn, no matter his profession, and I still fled my home and my city. And I still love him, despite that.”

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Rhire, the party’s cleric.

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DM: The gods that Rhire doesn’t believe in whisper down from the heavens that the boy in front of them is in a lot of pain and only has 1HP left.

Rhire, OOC: Can I switch places with the boy?

DM: Sure, why not. Put yourself on top of his dead mother.