Allix stood over the candle lit table long after his war council had retreated for the night. Maps and diagrams of the city of Drezen littered the table, each sheet of parchment crawled over a dozen times and annotated with cramped handwriting guessing at enemy positions and strength. Allix poured over them again, drawing invisible lines between the city's high walls and the killing avenues his crusaders would be marching through the following morning.
So much weighed upon this attack. A month of grueling marches, running battles with the denizens of the abyss and the twisted cultists who followed them. He shuttered as he remembered the crawl through the deep canyons the men had taken to calling Leper’s Smile. His crusaders had hardly recovered from the gargoyle attack near the lost chapel, now they were expected to march to certain death below the walls of Drezen.
Idria’s outburst had shaken him, despite his brave words in the moment. She wasn’t wrong. They find death abundant in the streets, allies, and courtyards of the great city, but it was their duty to see this through.
Allix suppressed a sigh, forcing his tired eyes to focus as he withdrew a different chart from the stack. There was another thing lying heavy on his shoulders, one that he hadn’t had the courage to speak to even his closest companions about. The dream visitor had come again last night, pleading with him to find them. The vision had come in a cascade of butterfly wings, iridescent blue and purple like the sky at dusk. The visitor told him to seek Drezen’s dungeons, to free them there.
Allix still wasn’t sure what to make of the visitor. Their warning had saved many lives on the march to Drezen. He had no reason to distrust the voice, especially after taking part in Desna’s ritual in Kenabres. Nurah, his halfling advisor from Queen Galfrey, had even suggested a secret route into the prison that would put the Knight Commander’s party deep behind enemy lines. Allix trusted her word as far as he could get Seelah to throw her. After finding a mysterious “perfume” in her tent following Leper’s Smile, he’d kept the bard under heavy, secret, observation. But, her route offered an opportunity. One that would remove him from the front lines, away from his soldiers, but would put him in the best position to do the most damage.
Allix grimaced. What was he to believe? Where was he to go? His commanders were scared, his soldiers nervous. Even his closest advisors were unsure. Two months ago, Allix had been hunting demons in the wilds, trading their heads for a pittance of coin. Now, he was expected to drive a dagger into the heart of the Abyss’s strangle hold on Gorlanion.
His fingers tapped the silver elk weighing down the corner of the map. His crusaders believed in these unwanted powers of his. In the halo that sometimes shone behind his head in the midst of combat. He believed in their resolve. He believed in his commanders, in his friends. In a war between demons and angels, perhaps his belief would be enough. Gods, he prayed it was so.
With one final look at the charts, maps, and battle plans, Allix snuffed out the lights. Tomorrow would come and he would march to war. One way or the other, all would be decided by the sunset. That was something he could truly believe.
If there is one thing that can be said about every character I've ever made. They HATE meetings.
Swear Words ahead (obviously)
Read here or on Ao3 :)
Allix flung open the doors of Drezen’s council room, head pounding from an hour-long argument over the continuing situation in Mendev. He could honestly care less about rebelling nobility and the state of Queen Galfrey’s rule, but they provided his crusaders swords and boots. His own efforts to grow food, hire smiths, and turn Sarkoris into an independent land were in their infancy. For now, he still needed their supplies. None of that mattered at the moment, of course. At that moment, there was a beautiful redeemed demon standing on the balcony, looking over the city with fresh eyes, wings fluttering in the breeze. She turned to Allix, fixing him with a knowing stare as he sank into her embrace, muttering his worries and stresses into her shoulder.
She shifted back after a long moment, taking his face in her finger tips before kissing him deeply. Suddenly, nothing seemed to matter, save for the heat on his face and the soft lips planted on his. Allix could have stood there forever, drinking in his love’s soft touch without a care for anything, or anyone, else.
“Knight Commander?” A voice interrupted, shattering the moment like glass. Arueshalae giggled as he sighed into her lips, ever so reluctantly pulling back. A paige, Conner was his name, waited in the doorway for acknowledgement.
“A diplomatic envoy from Cheliax has arrived, they’re asking to meet with you.”
Allix felt his headache return, doubling in size and depth. “Gods damn it all.” He muttered, planting a kiss on Arueshalae’s cheek before stalking back inside.
* * *
The Rogue Trader Silus Von Valancius lounged on this throne, feet thrown over the armrest in the least dignified position possible. Hours and hours of meetings left his head pounding, despite the half drained bottle of Amsec sitting on a small table beside him.
“Lock them all out, Abelard.” He droned. “No more nobility and petty issues for the day. Just lock them out and we’ll glass this Emperor Forsaken throne world when we finally leave.”
His Seneschal fixed him with an amused, understanding, look. Theodora would have executed a few nobles for bothering her. Silus had taken a more… gentle approach. Though he had not balked from having his guards throw a few of the pompous pricks out on their asses.
“Lord Rogue Trader?” The vox speaker on his throne crackled to life. “The Planetary Governor is here.”
“By all the warp-fucking-orc-shit.” Silus pinched the bridge of his nose while his other hand tapped the comm. “Send him in.” He called. “Just fucking send him in.”
* * *
Jaysora, newly minted Baron of the Stolen Lands, picked idly at the arm of her throne. It was little more than a painted armchair bought from some unfortunate barkeep eager to open for business her in blossoming town. More settlers arrived by the day, seemingly drawn from all over Gorlonian, courtesy of her patrons amongst the Aldori. She wished the chair was still settled firmly in the back of the hastily constructed beer tent next to the actual ongoing construction of the town’s first tavern. First of many, she hoped, if only she didn’t have to sit through another settlement meeting to block out property.
Ordinarily of course, a barony would have a dozen pages and scroll keepers working on this sort of thing. Seeing as her barony was founded less than a month ago, she had not yet found the time to acquire anyone else, leaving the endless arguments over ground space, petty fights over resources, and the inevitable citing of law to her and her advisors.
One such group, three halflings intent upon starting a large beekeeping operation just outside of town, was making their way out as Linzi, ever bright and cheerful, let the next group in. The halfling bard bound up next to the throne, scroll in hand as she began to read off the names of her next visitors. Jaysora raised a weary hand to stop her.
“How many of these do we have left today?” She asked, making no effort to hide the exhaustion in her tone.
Linzi smiled. “Only twenty more, your Ladyship.”
“How many have we done today?”
“Six, your ladyship.”
Jaysora groaned, dropping her head into her hands. She’d rather be fighting trolls, she thought. A rather dreary thought, indeed.
“What’s this next group about?”
Linzi frowned as she double checked her scroll. “Taxes and levies to be paid to Brevoy.”
“By all the Nine-Bleeding-Hells.” Jaysora muttered. It took a long moment to corner her resolve once more and lift her head to consider the four robed figures waltzing into her hall. “Let’s just get this shit over with.”
The stairs of Drezen’s citadel seemed to go on forever. Sweat and blood poured down Allix in waves as they left the forge behind and ascended, working their way toward the upper chambers where Minago and her pet traitor Staunton Vhane no doubt awaited them. The battle through Drezen had left the Commander’s party beaten, they all sported wounds that wept afresh with every step through the citadel. Yet, as Allix glanced at his friends, he saw nothing but grim determination in their eyes and steel in their hearts. This was it. The final confrontation that would decide the fate of the old fortress. They all knew that.
They arrived in a small command room at the top of the stairs. A long table stretched down the run of the room leading to a nightmarish throne constructed of bits of armor, weapons, and bone. Allix was certain he saw multiple skulls, both horned and not, adorning the chair. He couldn’t quite suppress the shiver it sent snaking down his spine.
Before the chair stood three disappointing familiar figures. Minago, the eyeless demoness had her fingers hooked around the metal pauldrons of an old dwarf. She was trying to pull him toward the open doors of a great balcony, begging him to follow. For his part, Staunton Vhane looked grim, dressed in full battle plate with a heavy hammer and axe clutched in white knuckled fists. A stab of regret lanced through Allix as he considered Staunton’s brother below. The old dwarf smith had been loyal to the end. Staunton had to know that.
Before then both stood a halfling, her blonde hair gathered in two buns on either side of her head. She clutched a number of vials and potions between her fingers, shoving them half haphazardly into a satchel at her side. When she turned to face the intruders, nothing but hatred and delight burned in her eyes.
“Survived did you?” She sneered. “I should have known the great Knight Commander would have waltzed through my little trap without issue.”
“Stand down, Nurah.” Staunton barked. “The Knight Commander already has a dance partner this night.”
“Darling, please. This is foolish. Come with me. Don’t die here for these old stones.” Minago begged, redoubling her efforts to pull her lover from the room. Staunton freed himself with a snarl.
“I’ve lost this city once already. I’ll not be doing it a second time!”
Minago stared at him, as if seeing the dwarf for the first time as her features twisted into a sneer of her own. “Have it your way.” She spat. Her fingers thrust forward, ripping a gateway between realms. She dashed into it before anyone could react, disappearing in a flash.
Allix looked over the two traitors. How many had died because of their actions? How many more had died today? He tried to summon his hatred, tried to remember the words he had planned to speak. Instead, all he felt was exhaustion tugging at his bones and the grim pull of duty.
“Nothing to say for yourself?” Staunton demanded, spittle flying from his beard. Allix shook his head.
“I’ve given you every chance I can, Staunton. I’m sorry it's come to this.”
“I’m not!” Nurah screamed. “You’ll pay for everything you’ve done one hundred fold! My masters will torture your soul for milliena in the Abyss!” The halfling raised her vials, caustic concoctions glowed as she prepared to throw.
“Then let’s get to it.” Allix sighed, hoisting his crossbow. Seelah stepped forward, shield raised while Lann and Nenio crept toward their flanks. Soseil sighed as he lifted his glaive, the words of a prayer on his lips. Only Ulbrig seemed to savor the fight to come with a grin as his arms began to lengthen and feathers sprouted from his shoulders.
“Aye, that would be best.” Staunton growled, hoisting his weapons. “One last time.”
Hi all, I'm doing something a little different for the rest of @owlcatober. I've seperated all the remaining prompts into little three part stories, using each prompt, in order, to start each chapter.
I wanted to do a little extra plotting and outlining practice this month, and this seemed like a fun way to do it. So, without further ado. Here's part one of The Wrong Bottle.
Read here or on Ao3 (These are a little longer, I recommend Ao3, but I am not your parent or gaurdian. Do what you want.)
Nineo wasn’t sure which of them was getting more frustrated, herself or the assistant boy. No, that wasn’t right. Experiment subject boy? No, not right either. Lab Commander? No, she was the lab commander if anyone was. The Knight Experiment? That must be it.
He didn’t look very knightly, all bent over a series of ancient tombs, extra quill stuck behind his ear with ink stains on his fingers, face, and horns. Then again, she considered research the pinnacle of noble and notable activities, and the Knight Experiment had done so much of it these past days he had dark circles under his eyes and was nearly lethargic. All common signs of exhaustion and deficient amounts of sleep. If researching until one dropped was the most noble of tasks, then perhaps he was knightly, indeed. She made a note to research the sources of knightliness at a later date, then promptly forgot about it. What was she doing again?
Right, the experiment. A large alchemical brewing set had been assembled in a small house near the edge of the city at her request. The abandoned building was the perfect place for her various projects, her encyclopedia aside. She was concocting a series of different brews intent on testing the limits of the Knight Experiment’s mythic powers, which, vexingly, continued to defy any semblance of logic or arcane theorem.
“Do the Claussenwells still follow old marriage laws?” Knight Experiment asked, his head snapped up from the page.
“I believe so? I never found the idea of marriage to be… well much of anything.” Nineo sniffed, selected a deep blue potion off its burner. “Is this relevant to the experiment.”
“Alliance marriage laws, Nineo.” Her test subject chuckled. “I need to know if they still follow traditional alliances requiring a hand in marriage.”
“Oh!” She dove back in her memory, recalling all the research she had done on the various peoples and tribes of old Skartoris. “I have no idea. Fascinating. Try this.” She placed the potion next to his ever growing stack of parchments.
“Very helpful.” Experiment boy rolled his eyes. “What’s in this one?”
“It’s a rather simple potion used to measure your connection to arcane forces. You’ve displayed exemplary feats of magic since your partial ascension uncommon for both mortals and rangers.” She was sure to heap plenty of disapproval on the term, making her feelings clear on casters and mages that gained their powers outside the usual methods of rigorous study and research. Experiment boy chuckled again, taking a long swig of the potion.
“What now?” He said. She shrugged.
“We wait. In five minutes I’ll need a drop of blood for testing, but for now you may return to your research on the marriage packs of ancient Skartorian tribes, though I find the whole thing a waste of valuable time.”
“I’m not getting married, Nineo.” His brow furrowed. “We need their permission to move supplies through their lands for a more direct and defensible route for our assault on Iz. Should they actually require a marriage contract to seal the alliance things will get more… complicated.”
“Ah, because you have already initiated the coupling ritual with our resident succubus.”
“Redeemed succubus, and yes.” Experiment boy replied without missing a beat. He was very direct with her, she appreciated that.
“Perhaps the two of you could initiate coupling and promise your first born to the tribe in marriage?” Nineo said helpfully. She worked while she talked, moving about her lab with the confidence and pride of a dragon in its lair. She scooped up the empty flask before her test subject and placed down a smaller vial while she searched for a final ingredient.
“I don’t believe that is an option on the table.” the Knight Experiment replied. His brow furrowed and he coughed into the crook of his arm. “What in the hells was in that?”
Nineo spun on her heel, her search abandoned. The vial she had placed before him was half empty, still containing a thimble’s worth of dark purple liquid within. “That was a partial potion meant to test your endurance under great strain.”
“What do you mean partial potion?” Her lab assistant asked. She furrowed her brow at him.
“Exactly as I said. A partial potion. Incomplete, missing ingredients, not yet ready. Do you have wax in your ears?”
“Nineo.” The Knight Experiment’s voice took on a calmer, harder edge. “What happens to me if I drank the partial potion instead of the full one?”
Her face cleared, eyes wide with excitement. “I have no idea!”
The tiefling’s jaw flagged open as if to ask her another dumb question. However, before the words could tumble off his lips, his eyes rolled back in his head. Experiment boy collapsed into his notes, one of his horns struck his ink well, spilling it over the carefully arranged notes now beneath his sleeping head.
“Oh.” Nineo sighed. “That is not good.”
* * *
“Oh, this one time, I stole a Baylor’s coin purse! Snuck right up behind him and cut his purse strings while he was busy threatening some poor lost souls. Never knew what hit him!” Woljif chuckled, throwing back his second pint of ale. His audience settled somewhere between amused looks of disbelief and groans.
“We were there, Woljif.” Seelah said, nursing her own pint. “Except the baylor was dead because we had just finished killing it, and you came running out of nowhere and called dibs on the loot.”
The former thiefling resettled his features into a convincing pout. “Well, yeah. But I still got his purse, didn’t I?”
“Aye, a purse full of gibbily bits and eyeballs!” Ulbrig roared with laughter, showering the unfortunate thief with a good half of his ale. “Even the children of the tribe know a demon doesn’t carry his coins in his purse!”
Woljif’s scathing reply never had the chance to leave his lips as the door of the Half Measure Tavern nearly burst off its hinges to emit a rail thin Kitsune. Her impact with the door knocked the goggles on her head askew, leaving her to struggle to right them with her thick gloves while she glanced about the tap room. Finally, her eyes landed on the only occupied table in the place and she began to stumble over, her steps impeded by the thick leather apron she still wore, despite being quite far from her lab.
“There you all are!” Nineo declared, as if she had known where they were all along. “Come quickly, I’ve had a small issue in the lab.”
Ulbrig looked at the wizard down the length of his nose. “We are drinking, fox. Why should we come with you?”
Seelah caught herself just in time to halt the withering sigh that almost breached her lips. “What happened, Nineo?”
“Ah! Well.” The kitsune adjusted her goggles again, looking suddenly embarrassed. “The Knight Experiment had a… um. Well. He drank something and I cannot get him to continue our tests!”
“Who?” Woljif asked.
“The Knight Experiment? My assistant? You know?” She raised two fingers to her brow, mimicking horns.
Any comfort of drink fled Seelah like an imp with its tail on fire. She stood from her chair so quickly, it clattered to the floor before anyone could think to catch it.
“Where?”
* * *
“This isn’t good.” Seelah muttered as her spell faded. It was as Nineo had said. The Knight Commander of the Fifth Crusade was softly snoring on a pillow of parchment stacks and spilled ink. Nineo had rescued the books at the very least. To see them ruined would be a tragedy, as she put it. Seelah pointed to a small bead of blood on his neck.
“Why is he bleeding?” She asked, turning to the wizard. Nineo smiled.
“I needed a sample of blood to test for arcane attunements following Assistant Boy’s partial ascension. It seemed silly to let the prior experiment expire despite the most recent one’s failure.”
“Right.” Seelah managed. In the back of her mind she began to call together any and all spells she knew that might restrain a very angry demon from shredding a very confused wizard to ribbons when she arrived. Not that she thought Arueshalae would actually do that, just… in case.
As if listening to her thoughts, the door of the small lab was thrown open to admit four figures ranging from angrily concerned to highly amused. Arueshalae stormed over to Allix immediately, ignoring everyone else in the room even as Sosiel joined her to start muttering a restorative spell. Woljif simply stepped out of the way, retreating to a corner near some bookshelves to stay far from whatever fallout awaited them. Daeran, not one to be left out of anything, nursed a goblet of wine and watched the proceedings with bright anticipation. No doubt this was the most entertainment the Count had seen in weeks.
“Allix?” Arueshalae shook her lover’s shoulders. The Knight Commander gave a small snort and went right back to his soft snoring. “Allix?” She asked louder, flicking his ear.
Next to her, Sosiel’s spell faded and he shook his head. “Whatever you did, it’s beyond me.” He said.
“He drank the potion before it was ready!” Nineo protested.
“Regardless of what happened.” Seelah cut in before an argument could form. “Allix is expected at a negotiation with the Claussenwells in less than an hour. How is he supposed to attend like this?”
“We could ask them to delay the meeting.” Sosiel replied, glancing down at the sleeping form before him. “He’s not going anywhere like this.”
“They won’t like that.” Ulbrig grumbled. “The old tribes will take any delay in talks as an insult. They see it as dawdling or time wasting by their host. The meeting will have to go on.”
“Then it will have to go on without the Knight Commander.” Sosiel shook his head. “And they won’t like that either.”
An uncomfortable silence settled over the chamber. Frustration welled in Seelah’s chest. They needed this meeting to go well. Allix had been pushing for this for weeks, denying any kind of rest until he was sure negotiations could be conducted without a hitch. Now in the final hour it all threatened to fall apart. Without permission to pass through the Claussenwell’s lands, supply lines to Iz, and the frontlines as a whole, would be slowed, costing lives.
“Daeran, you’re a Count of Mendev. You could lead the negotiations.” Seelah glanced at the elf, meeting the disinterest in his eyes with her own iron will.
He sighed. “I could, but I find deal making like this so… boring. Besides, I have not a clue what to say.”
“I do.” Seelah shot back. “You could play host to our guests and leave the details to me.”
“How familiar are you with the Claussenwells?” Sosiel’s brow furrowed as he looked over the pages and pages of notes currently serving as Allix’s pillow. “It seems like Allix was doing a lot of work to research them ahead of time.”
“Not very, but how hard can it be?” Seelah replied, fighting to keep the doubt from her voice. “We’ve run down greater demons in the Abyss of all places. Negotiations can’t be more scary than that!”
“Aye, this is a good attitude to have!” Ulbrig grinned. “I shall accompany you! I knew the Claussenwells when their forefathers were little more than fur trappers and hunters! I shall be your guide.”
Seelah nodded. “While we handle our guests, you three do your best to wake up the Commander. The sooner the better.”
Sosiel, Arueshalae, and Nineo nodded. “This will be fun!” Nineo chimed, already stepping back over to her shelves and alchemist supplies. “It’s not very often I get to undo one of my experiments.”
“What about me?” Woljif asked. “I want to help the chief!”
“You can fetch me supplies, Horn Boy.” Nineo replied, pulling a thick tome from the shelf. “I suspect I’ll need more than what I have here, and you are quite good at getting things quickly.”
“You got it!” Woljif grinned. “Not very often I get told to steal.”
“Just leave some coins behind if you must.” Seelah said, sending a quick prayer for forgiveness to Iomedae. She suspected her goddess would understand given the circumstances. She glanced outside, the sun was nearing setting. The Claussenwells would arrive at the citadel at any moment. “Let’s get to it people.”
She led the Count and Ulbrig out of the lab at a swift jog. Daeran was already rubbing his hands together. “Let’s see what our Knight Commander has already prepared. I have a few ideas that should make things move along amicably.”
Seelah tried to squash the squirming anxiety in her gut hoping she wasn’t going to regret giving voice to her quickly thought out plan. She sent up another prayer to Iomedae, just in case.
Allix just cannot catch a break this month. He needs some happy stories soon :(
Read here or on Ao3 :)
The forest smelt of smoke. Not an uncommon occurrence, when Allix returned home to the caravan it often smelt like smoke, tinged with the delicious scent of roasting meat and stew. The smell could waft for miles if the wind was in the right direction. Today, however, the wind was stale, smelling of damp ash and greasy smoke that did nothing to ease the knot in the pit of the ranger’s stomach.
He picked his way through the trees with extra caution drawing on his training to ghost from shadow to shadow in the late evening light. It was made more difficult by the deer slung over his shoulder. He’d left a day ago in search of food for his fellows. The area within which they trapsed was along the edge of Mendev, a nation renowned for its crusaders and trouble with demons. As such, game had been scarce, leading him further afield than he would usually wander in search of something sizeable. It would take months for him to appreciate that the deer had saved his life. Sometimes he felt as if he would never appreciate it at all.
There were no sentries posted in their usual haunts, nor did he find guards keeping an eye on the close parameter where he knew the caravan was camped. His dread grew, softening his footsteps further as he slid the carcass from his shoulder and left it in a bush. He exchanged it for his bow, checking to ensure his arrows were within easy reach and his brace of throwing knives where uncovered and accessible. He needn’t have bothered. All that remained was ash and broken bodies.
Allix crept around the edge of camp, eyes lying heavily upon the burned out husks that used to be wagons. Perhaps some had escaped whatever doom had happened here. His hopes were dashed when he happened across the first skeleton. It had been picked clean, it’s corpse only blackened bone and some remnant of charred flesh that even the scavengers wouldn’t touch. He had not idea who it was. The thought almost broke him.
He crept closer, tears running freely down his cheeks the death of the caravan became more plainly apparent. Mortimer, the guard, lay face down in the long grass, a long shafted arrow sprouting from his back like a sapling. Shelly, their halfling cook had been gnawed upon, her coat boiled by what appeared to have been acid flung from a spell. He didn’t bother looking any closer. One by one, he counted the bodies, each tally weighing heavier upon him. He should have been here. He could have…
Could have what? Died along side them? A cold hand gripped his heart. What had done this to them? The tears flowed stronger now, the pain in his chest welling to a fever pitch until it threatened to overwhelm him. He wanted to fall to his knees and scream. He wanted to rip up the very dirt, to scoop up the ashes and pile them back together into some semblance of his home. Instead he was left with a ruin and no idea what horrid fate had befallen his friends and adopted family. Only his training, years of instruction from his old dwarven mentor Baldrin kept him on his feet and his mouth screwed shut.
“Sometimes there’s no time for thinking and despairin’ lad. Sometimes you just need to move.” The old dwarf’s grumbling chided him. Allix nodded to himself.
“Just move.” He whispered, fighting back despair. “Just move, and we can find out who did this.”
He didn’t need to wait long or move far. A shuffle from one of the hunks of cart caught his ear, sounding for all the world like a shout in the stillness of the massacre. Allix ghosted to cover, crouching behind a small pile of cracked kegs as a creature emerged from the wreckage. It was red, blood red, with spindly arms and an oversized head. In its claws it clutched a spear made of ragged wood and rusted iron. The demon cocked its head to the wind and sniffed.
Allix realized what it was doing a moment before its head swung right at him. For all that people said tieflings smelled like sulfur (which wasn’t true in the slightest), it must have been easy to pick out his scent amongst the ash. The demon howled, raising its spear as if to call the heavens down upon him and charged his hiding place.
Allix fumbled his arrow, notching it to the string with shaking hands as he whispered a prayer to Old Deadeye. The elk headed god must have been listening, as Allix loosed his arrow lodged in the demon’s throat. It dropped with an ugly gurgle.
Another demon emerged from the wreckage, howling at the fate of its fellow. Allix selected another arrow, his fear banished by a red hatred that welled in his stomach and spread like fire through his veins. Two arrows brought down the second as more emerged. Howling, spitting, and raging the demons advanced in a wave. Allix fired arrow after arrow, feeling the chord of his bow rip at his fingers with each hurried shot. There were too many. No matter how many fell more seemed to take their place. He tossed aside the bow as they reached him, tearing a pair of small knives from his vanbrace. He threw one into the eye of a giggling babau, using the other to deflect a pitted spear point that lunged for his gut. He stepped into the demon’s guard, stabbing outward with his knife. It caught in the thing’s ribs and stuck, leaving him struggling to rip it free.
Hands closed around his arms and legs. Claws bit into his flesh as he was pulled from his feet. Blows landed on his ribs and head, cracking one of his horns. Black dots appeared in his vision as he tried to lash out, kicking, scratching and cursing. More bodies weighed him down, claws closed around his throat. As his vision began to fade, a different demon appeared, small, pale, and fat. It leered at him with pointed teeth.
“Aye, he’ll do.” It said, “Seeing as you lot killed the last one. Bring him to the mistress!”
A spear butt struck him in the head and Allix knew no more.
Pain seared through him, jolting him awake. He was on his back, lying in a field of ash. A thick slurry of ash and water coated him… or perhaps it was blood? Allix’s head pounded. His memories were fragmented and out of order. The demons… his home… he was…
Crushing despair hit him like a physical blow. His home had been burned, his friends were corpses decorating the ground around him. The demons were… gone? That wasn’t right. He couldn’t remember them running off. He remembered one of them, a short nasty piece of work called Dretch… or maybe he was a dretch? leering at him.
Allix forced himself to stand, head hammering harder than any blacksmith at an anvil. A second pain joined in concert, blossoming from his chest. For the first time he noticed the fresh scar running from his belly to his collarbone upon his chest. It was pink and puckered, standing out strongly against the dull lavender of his skin. When had he gotten that? He had no idea. Each time he tried to remember, the memory slipped from his fingers like fog. Any memories after the little demon seemed to escape him.
Then he looked down and all thought fled him. Leaning against a burned cart, his flesh miraculously untouched by flame was an old dwarf. His beard was still the same snowy white that it had been two days ago, when he had wished Allix well on his hunt. His eyes were open, irises unseeing and glassy as he stared in surprise at whatever had killed him. Allix dropped to his knees beside the body, anguish rolling over him like ocean waves.
“Bardin.” He whispered. The dwarf gave no reply.
With a shaky hand, he reached up and closed the dwarfs eyes. It didn’t matter. His missing memory, the demons, none of it. What mattered was he was alive. Allix’s hand dropped to his side, brushing against something steely in the dwarf’s lap. His crossbow, Allix realized. Just like it’s master, it was untouched by flame or corruption. A gift from Etrasil, himself. The message was clear.
Allix was alive, and he was going to make every denizen of the Abyss regret it. He placed a hand upon the bow, his other gently touching the old dwarf’s shoulder.
“I’ll find who did this.” He said, thinking of the dretch. “And I’ll send every one of them back to the gods damned hole they crawled out of. I swear it.”
He stood, picking up the crossbow with reverent hands, his limbs protesting from dozens of aches and bruises. It didn’t matter. The future Knight Commander of the Fifth Crusade, Angel of Iomedae, Legend of the Sixth Crusade, Hero of Gorlonian stumbled away to find a shovel.
My pre-game Baldur's Gate Tav x Shadowheart fic has a new chapter! Back of book below.
Check it out on Ao3!
There is a traitor in Shar's ranks. A masked bandit parades around the countryside, robbing with impunity with a sacred relic of the Lady of Secrets. Shadowheart, a young cleric of the Lady of Shadows, is desperate to prove herself to her Mother Superior. Yet, as she sets out on the hunt, she is surprised to find the traitor seems to know too much about the cult and Shadowheart, herself. But, with a mind full of holes, is it so surprising that she's forgotten so much?
Alyss (Tav) is desperate for coin. With debts to pay to the Thieves' Guild and time running short, she'll take anything to free her of her obligations and escape the city. When the Flaming Fist posts a bounty on a strange, mask wearing bandit whose victims never seem to remember being robbed, it seems like the perfect opportunity to finally make the coin she needs to be truly free.
Before the events of Baldur's Gate 3, two hunters converge on the same target. With a strange new cult growing in the forests north of Candlekeep, the unlikely pair will have to band together to survive. Can they find common ground? Or will the masked cultists claim two more victims on their rise to power in the Sword Coast?
The Plucky Squire is exactly the game I needed tonight :)
If you need a game that feels like being wrapped in a warm blanket, with some really really clever mechanics and an adorable art style to boot, I cannot recommend it enough.
So glad to be back to writing. Its been a WEEK folks! Hope you can forgive me for missing a few days, things have been real weird the last couple days. This fully self-indulgent scene between Allix and Arueshalae should help :)
Seriously, thanks for reading these. Interacting with everyone has been so so fun this month ;-;
Medals and Recognitions (1,446 words)
Fandom: Pathfinder Wrath of the Righteous
Ship: Arueshalae/KC (Allix)
Warnings: Very Cute.
Read here under the cut, or over on Ao3
The doublet itched. Allix turned himself this way and that, studying every inch of his costume in the full length mirror. That’s what it felt like, a costume. He was dressed to the nines in a custom tailored suit, dark satin green with forest brown accents. It fit him like a glove, everything in its proper place except for the gods damned doublet.
With a sigh, he removed it, buttoning up his shirt to fill some of the gap. He was left with a neckline just short of plunging that exposed the tops of his collarbones. Not a bad look, by any means, but a touch less formal than the tailor had originally intended. He could deal with that.
As he studied the suit, his eyes could not help but travel to the man behind it, tail swishing anxiously as he looked himself over. Just short of three years ago, he’d been a bounty hunter, down on his luck, drifting through the world wound in search of more dangerous targets for heavier sacks of gold. Almost three years ago, he’d awoken in a square in Kenebres, bleeding from the chest with a dragon leaned over him. In those three years, he’d lead armies against the forces of the abyss, tread through the worst horrors a mortal could imagine. He had almost been an angel, though Heaven would have likely rejected his… contrary nature had he followed through. Instead, he’d given up his power, become a mere mortal again, and then lead one of the most daring military campaigns in Golarion’s history that had ended in the death of two demon lords and the closing of the World Wound, which had plagued the mortal realms for more than a century. And yet…
When Allix looked in the mirror, he saw the same roughshod mercenary desperate to scrape up some coin before he starved. His eyes had crows feet at their edges. His thick beard was beginning to show a little more gray than he was comfortable with. Scars, new and old littered his body like the words of a fairytale, each telling the story of a different battle, a different danger. His horns were chipped in places from uncountable close calls, but they were still his horns. Without the adrenaline of combat, he found that his hands shook slightly, but they were still his hands. His eyes looked older, wiser, more tired from the great trials he had undertaken in the last three years, but they were still the same blood red color, flecked with bronze. Despite it all, he was still… him.
Soft arms wrapped around his shoulders, as softer lips pressed a kiss into his hair, gently drawing him from his musings.
“You’re thinking too hard.” Arueshalae murmured with a soft smile. “I can see it in your eyes.”
She was dressed in a deep blue dress that complimented her eyes and hair. Gold highlights and jewelry adorned her wrists and neck. Her hair had grown longer over the intervening months. With no reason to fear her own beauty any longer, Arueshalae delighted in trying different styles and fashions recommended to her by their friends. This was one of her, and Allix’s favorites.
“Only good things.” Allix replied, leaning into her embrace. “We’ve all changed so much from when this all began.”
“We have.” She said. None had changed more than the once succubus, now redeemed follower of Desna. Allix felt a swell of pride in his chest as he met his soon to be wife’s eyes in the mirror. She, amongst all others, had climbed the steepest cliffs and faced the greatest dangers. To give up his powers was one thing, but the throw off the yolk of the Abyss, itself. To find compassion, forgiveness, and love in a place that taught only blood and hate? He could think of no greater challenge.
“Ready to go?” She asked, drawing him from his thoughts once more. The former Knight Commander suppressed a cringe.
“Not at all.” Even after leading the crusades, fighting gods and monsters alike, he still did not feel comfortable in crowds. Especially ones gathered in his honor. “Are you?”
“Absolutely not.” Arueshalae laughed. “All those eyes focused on us? Do mortal ceremonies always have to be this large?”
“Only ones orchestrated by a Queen that wants the world to know exactly who saved their collective ass, I suppose.” Allix returned her smirk. “Think of it, Kings and Queens, nobles from across the world, all gathered to pay us respects.”
“I think I’d rather just go back to the cabin.”
“Me too, love.”
Arueshalae stuck out her tongue at him in the mirror, scrunching her nose in distaste. “At least we won’t be alone up there.”
“Very true. Did they finally talk Lann into a suit?”
“I believe they tried, right up until he threatened to turn the next person to come into his room with a coat into a pin cushion. I believe they have settled on a nice robe for him in the Crusade’s colors.”
“I don’t suppose he took the title either?”
“Of course not, but the Queen agreed to sponsor his first three ships in his trading fleet. I think he values those more than any empty title.”
“Good.” Allix smiled.
“Darling.”
“Love?”
“You’re delaying as much as you can. But we do need to leave this room.” Arueshalae smiled, pressing another kiss between his horns. “Come now, the sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can go home.”
“You have such a way with words.” Allix grinned, turning to kiss his love proper. “Hand me Finnean and we’ll get on our way.”
She passed him a beautiful sword, the vessel that once contained the lost soul of a Pathfinder named Finnean. Allix’s preferred weapon was the heaviest crossbow he could find, but he had carried the blade through the remainder of the crusade in the memory of their friend, now released to explore the afterlife. It was a beautiful blade, and a comforting weight on his hip as he took Arueshalae’s arm and the pair stepped out into the hall to await the Queen’s escorts. Her guard arrived a short time later, the majority of their party in tow.
Greybor had remained in the Abyss. The dwarven assassin had little interest in the Queen’s recognition, and had his hands full running his new business. He had, however, sent them a lovely letter. Also missing from the gathering was Regill, who, despite his exile from the Hellknights in the later days of the campaign, believed he needed no recognition for his efforts, and had politely declined the ceremony. The rest, however, eagerly accepted.
Embraces and words were exchanged as they joined company, walking together down the wide steps toward the Queen’s own courtroom. From there, the party would proceed to the front steps of the palace where they would receive their honors and recognition, alongside many other officers, warriors, and heroes of the crusades. Allix had spent weeks pouring over the long list of martyrs, heroes, and soldiers that had served, hand picking dozens to receive their medals alongside him, and hundreds more that would be awarded honorifics in their own time. Every soldier who had served in the final taking of Iz and the closing of the World Wound would receive their recognition, as well as a large enough pension to keep them fat and happy for the rest of their lives.
In the courtroom, they were joined by two more familiar faces, Irabeth and Anevia. The Knight Commander’s most trusted advisors easily fell into step with the rest, chatting and hugging their way to the great doors of the palace. There, they stopped for one final time, listening to the distant remarks of Queen Galfrey as she addressed a mixed crowd of hundreds of crusaders, emissaries from a hundred nations, and a dozen Kings and Queens from the various kingdoms and empires that had contributed to the fight.
When it was finally time for the Knight Commander’s party to be recognized, the little group was quickly organized by the guard and set to wait just by the doors. Two by two they would be called up to the dais to stand with the Queen, until all had joined. At the front of the line, Allix exchanged a glance with Arueshalae.
“Nervous?” He asked.
Arueshalae looked him up and down, then back at the line of their friends, closer than family, behind them, and shrugged.
“How could I be?” She asked.
Allix grinned and planted a kiss on her lips as the grand doors were thrown open. Together they faced the world, fingers and tails intertwined.
