"Hidden From Old Masters; Protected By Her Grace"

[Indie Pathfinder D&D OC. Mutuals only (follows back from trapped-with-nightmares). 18+, potentially triggering. Slow activity and crossover friendly. 15+ years roleplaying experience.]

[tamarasblessing]

Through Her, there is life In Her name, I wield the light The worthy shall know Her mercy The wicked, my might.

Pyranikus, the Qlippoth-spawn who would defy his masters. The tiefling who would praise Tamara: the goddess of life, light, and mercy. A defender of the weak and protector of the righteous. The Hells will suffer his vengeance.

Indie tiefling paladin, D&D and Baldur's Gate 3 rp blog

18+ and low activity

semi-selective and crossover friendly

sideblog to trapped-with-nightmares, so I will be following back from there

loved by Deli (they/them/he/him)

Rules HERE!

About stuff HERE!

Memes

[trapped-with-nightmares]

[Looking to return soon. Availability will still depend on school work, but I should be on a little more. I think I might silently work on drafts and queue things up. Queue never works for me cos I get too excited to post things but we'll see lol.

If my writing seems a little off, it's because I'm trying desperately to improve things. It may also result in longer wait times (I'm sorry). But next to drawing, writing is another passion of mine that I wish to practice more on.

Anyway, hope to be writing with you soon!]

[trapped-with-nightmares]

[Indeterminable hiatus.]

[tamarasblessing]

Everyone begs for him to reconsider, that there is another way to rescue their stolen companion without submitting to Orin entirely. But as Pyranikus sees it, spending even one day trying to figure out a solution guarantees their death. She doesn't give them long to plan let alone to act. Besides, his mind was made up before they discussed things as a group.

A life for a life.

Deep beneath the city lurks the sinister temple of Bhaal. Death and despair mix with the scent of decay and it tries to suffocate Pyranikus with every breath he takes. Footsteps echo through massive halls as he and three others traverse deeper and deeper into hells on earth. No one speaks -- what is there to say? After hours of arguments and a failure to persuade Pyranikus into anything different, words die on their tongues.

When they reach the final landing, he turns towards his three companions. If there is fear in his heart, his face doesn't show it, nor can it be heard in his voice as he speaks to them.

"It's time. Wait here, and do not follow me, lest she perceives us as a threat." Pyranikus pauses for a moment. Reality begins to settle in with the realization that he will never again see his friends. "I've...It's been a good time, despite everything."

Seeing as this is the last time he'll experience a friendly touch, he hugs his companions tight. They almost don't let go.

Pyranikus mumbles a prayer as he removes everything but his clothing, setting it all aside for his companions to do with what they may. The amulet still hangs around his neck, though, the one item he refuses to remove no matter what the circumstance. With a final goodbye, he makes his way to the massive stone door, opens it, and makes his way down the long staircase.

"You offered a trade, so here I am." Like the true holy soldier that he is, his voice doesn't betray the dread that rises in the hollow of his gut. He feels like he's only just escaped the Abyss. Away from the torment. Yet, here he is, bartering his life for his friend's.

@baldurmade

[tamarasblessing]

[ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 ] ― sender and receiver lay under the stars to stargaze from karlach

How lucky to catch a shooting star pass through the night sky; its tail disappears beyond a distant range of mountains. It never fails to fill him with awe. Stars, planets, and the many colors that fill the heavens like a painter's canvas, almost dissolve away the horrors of a rotten life.

Nothing in the Abyss has ever looked as beautiful as the sky in Faerun, and nothing feels as good as to settle into soft grass beside a kindred spirit -- a friend, even.

Heat radiates off of Karlach as it always does. Flames mark the boundaries where mortal flesh shouldn't breach. Even with liberal distance between them he can feel her warmth kiss his skin. It's pleasant, to say the least.

"I often wonder what it's like. To just...be among the stars." There's a wistful tone in his voice with a shred of something that sounds an awful lot like longing. "Ever imagine what it's like?" Pyranikus turns his attention to Karlach.

[tamarasblessing]

[For obivous reasons no blood stuff lol but Astarion is def gonna unlock soft Pyr]

@baldurmade

[tamarasblessing]

An animalistic snarl threatens to escape him, a noise he hasn't made since the Abyss, the pressure of which clings uncomfortably in his throat. Stars above, it concerns him how easy it is for Astarion to get under his skin. He can't decide if it's more the content of his retorts, or the way his voice takes an over-familiar tone. Occasionally he will catch one of the others also rolling their eyes. The vindication is sometimes enough to make it through another day.

Instead of a response (or a noise that would no doubt give Astarion more to comment on), Pyranikus sneers in the direction of his backpack. He tries his best to remind himself of his oath, and how the tenants of vengeance don't apply just because someone is pestering him. The pale elf refuses to make this easy, but unless there's a dire need to speak with him, Pyranikus does his best to avoid him.

Time passes and one by one tents pop up, dotting the area with cozy little setups. Most of the shuffling ceases an hour or so after, when everyone's bellies are full of food and the setting sun whispers of sleep. This is Pyranikus' favorite time of day, as it allows him the time to read.

The tent is modest and unadorned with much other than a few faded emblems of Tamara personally embroidered into black canvas. A single statuette sits outside of the entrance where he recites an evening prayer. By comparison, his bed is lavish, a creature comfort he's learned to allow himself through the years. Pillows are his favorite; at least four of them clutter around his body as he nestles himself beneath soft cotton sheets.

Across his lap rests an open book. It's a weighty thing, the history of Faerun. Its corners are worn and bent from years of travel and usage, and aside from a few torn pages the book is pristine. Well-loved and well-read. Pyranikus skims through maps until his eyelids become too heavy to keep open, and his body sinks deeper into bed. Pillows swallow him in a cloud of comfort and it isn't long after that the book slides away from him, hitting the floor with a soft thud.

[tamarasblessing]

[My pep talk for doing an evil Dark Urge playthrough (playing evil makes me feel bad)]:

[tamarasblessing]

Headcanon

[Pyranikus' blood tastes awful, as an FYI to those with certain feasting needs.]

[wovi]

when georges bataille wrote, “no greater desire exists than a wounded person’s need for another wound” & when gillian flynn wrote, “a child weaned on poison considers harm a comfort” & when ocean vuong wrote, “sometimes being offered tenderness feels like the very proof that you’ve been ruined” & when lisa m. basile wrote, “did you inherit a sickness? did you blame god? do you believe in god? do you believe in yourself? are you still on fire? did you ever put out the fire?” & when stephen a. guirgis wrote, “why didn't you make me good enough so that you could’ve loved me?”

[wovi]

*

ada limón, lucky wreck

[tamarasblessing]

Headcanon

[There are plenty of things about Faerun that are common knowledge to many, but not to Pyranikus. What he knows of the Material plane is considerably little compared to what he knows about the Abyss. Facts, insights, pop culture, it all flies over his head. What he learned about the Material plane while still in the Abyss was usually propaganda and lies, things he had to unlearn.

When he's not fighting, he's reading. Learning. There's so much out there that he wants to know. He wants to feel less like the wrong puzzle piece in a set. He wants to belong and relate to those around him. Folks who happen to get him into a conversation deeper than small talk will find it obvious he doesn't know much about the world around him. It's one of the biggest reasons he doesn't talk much at all.]

[tamarasblessing]

[ 𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 ] ― marrakesh wraps a soft blanket around Pyranikus’ shoulders (some tenderness for camp)

Hellish blood courses through his veins but it does nothing for the biting cold of the night. Perhaps he's getting sick. There's something that squirms beneath his skin and causes sweat to dapple his forehead. Ceramorphosis isn't supposed to effect any of them while the prism rests in their hands, but he's not sure if that's what this is. Whatever illness it is, it drives him out of solitude and towards the campfire until he's practically sitting in it.

Pressure and warmth startle him out of his thoughts, causing him to jump. Eyes don't have to peer far to know who those hands belong to, though they trail up anyway, and a small smile appears on his face to find Marrakesh at his side.

Fingers curl at the hem of the blanket to pull it tighter around him. "Thank you," a beat of silence, "seems a little cold tonight." He knows he's coming down with something, but he'd feel a lot better if was as cold outside as he felt.

[tamarasblessing]

More than licked by a few flames himself, Pyranikus doesn't balk at Karlach's warning. From where he stands he can see the ripples of heat from the fire that engulfs her skin. A living, breathing furnace. A testament to the sick sense of humor held by devil-kin, and one he's all too familiar with. If he were to reach straight for her heart, he knows he wouldn't feel it.

But he doesn't wish to argue. Nor does he want to force himself onto someone who doesn't want his aid. Want is perhaps the wrong word, as her eyes reflect the pain of isolation back to him like they were mirrors to his own soul.

Pyranikus looks down at the materials in his hands to avoid her eyes altogether, steeling himself against the thoughts that threaten to plague his mind. He looks up to give her a quarter of a smile.

"Would take more than the fires of Avernus to frighten me away. But," he outstretches his arms with the materials in the palms of open hands, "in case you need something extra."

[tamarasblessing]

Headcanon

[Because he's spent all of his life fighting on autopilot, Pyranikus is numb to most pain. It's not that he doesn't have the capacity to feel pain, it's that he's trained to turn that part of his brain off. There was no time to stop for pain. No breaks or sympathy. Often he will fight to excess and not even realize the damage to his person, and even then he's focused on healing others before himself.]

[lunememes]

🌙  *  ―     𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐒  (  prompts for the five senses. add [reversed] to reverse the action. feel free to change wording as needed & add details )

𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇.

[ 𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 ] ― sender wraps a soft blanket around receiver’s shoulders [ 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐊 ] ― sender and receiver fall into bed together on silk sheets [ 𝐏𝐔𝐋𝐋 ] ― sender pulls receiver’s hair ( gently / hard ) [ 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑 ] ― sender strokes receiver’s hair [ 𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇 ] ― sender brushes receiver’s hair [ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓 ] ― sender paints a picture onto part of receiver’s body ( specify what & where ) [ 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄 ] ― sender traces their fingertips over receiver’s body [ 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑 ] ― sender traces a scar on receiver’s body [ 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃 ] ― sender reaches out to hold receiver’s hand [ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 ] ― sender worships receiver’s body

𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄.

[ 𝐔𝐍𝐔𝐒𝐔𝐀𝐋 ] ― sender feeds receiver something they’ve never tried before ( specify what ) [ 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐑 ] ― sender feeds receiver something sour ( specify what ) [ 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 ] ― sender feeds receiver something sweet ( specify what ) [ 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐄 ] ― sender feeds receiver something spicy ( specify what ) [ 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 ] ― sender kisses receiver to taste the lingering flavour of what they ate or drank on their lips ( specify what ) [ 𝐂𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐑 ] ― sender bites receiver hard enough to draw blood [ 𝐔𝐍𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋 ] ― sender feeds receiver soup when they’ve fallen ill [ 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐊 ] ― sender makes receiver a cocktail to try [ 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐇 ] ― sender cooks receiver their favourite meal [ 𝐓𝐑𝐘 ] ―  sender gives receiver a taste of what they’re cooking / baking for their opinion

𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓.

[ 𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐃 ] ― sender blindfolds receiver [ 𝐑𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐄 ] ― sender and receiver see each other again after a period of being apart [ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄 ] ― sender notices something different about receiver ( injury / haircut / tattoo / piercing / etc ) [ 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐋 ] ― sender greets receiver in formal partywear ( feel free to add detail ) [ 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐒 ] ― sender takes receiver to see lanterns in the sky [ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 ] ― sender and receiver lay under the stars to stargaze [ 𝐆𝐀𝐙𝐄 ] ― sender and receiver lock eyes across the room [ 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖 ] ― sender and receiver see a shadow move out the corner of their eye [ 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍 ] ― sender and receive watch as something burns ( candles / a building / a campfire / etc ) [ 𝐅𝐈𝐒𝐇 ] ― sender takes receiver to the aquarium to watch the sea life [ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐊 ] ― sender recognises receiver at a masquerade party

𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃.

[ 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐂 ] ― sender puts on the radio to listen to music with receiver [ 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 ] ― sender plays receiver their favourite song on an instrument ( specify what ) [ 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍 ] ― sender and receiver are in bed together while rain lashes against the windows / tent / etc [ 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑 ] ― sender whispers something in receiver’s ear ( specify what ) [ 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 ] ― sender asks receiver for a dance upon hearing a song [ 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐘 ] ― sender and receiver hear a sound when they should be alone ( footsteps / creaking floorboards / a scream / etc ) [ 𝐇𝐔𝐌 ] ― sender hums a lullaby to lull receiver to sleep [ 𝐌𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐃 ] ― sender comforts a temporally deaf receiver after a loud sound ( gunshot / explosion / etc ) [ 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐌 ] ― sender calms receiver down from a panic attack in a loud place [ 𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐑 ] ― sender and receiver hear a muffled sound from another room / outside ( music / people / creature / etc ) [ 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖 ] ― sender hears receiver crying and approaches comfort them

𝐒𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐋.

[ 𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐇 ] ― sender puts a scented bath bomb into receiver’s bath [ 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐋𝐄 ] ― sender lights a scented candle for receiver [ 𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 ] ― sender puts perfume / aftershave on receiver’s ( wrist / neck / cheek ) [ 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓 ] ― sender inhales receiver’s scent [ 𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐊 ] ― sender is drawn to the kitchen by receiver’s cooking [ 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒 ] ― sender steals an item of receiver’s clothes because it smells like them [ 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 ] ― sender notices receiver smells of their shampoo / shower gel [ 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 ] ― sender gives receiver flowers [ 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐇 ] ― sender helps clean receiver after a long day / stressful situation [ 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐘 ] ― sender and receiver walk through the sewers to escape capture / avoid detection / chase someone [ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄 ] ― sender massages receiver with a scented oil

[tamarasblessing]

Headcanon

[Were Pyranikus to travel into the Abyssal plane for any reason, his powers would cease to work. Tamara's powers cannot penetrate through to this plane, inevitably returning Pyranikus to his original form the second the amulet concealing him loses its power to function. 14 years have gone by since he's even seen the Abyss, though, and he doesn't plan on returning any time soon.]

[tamarasblessing]

There are three companions that require more observation from Pyranikus than any of the others. Not that he tells them, and not that he makes a point to gawk, either. A fidgety moral compass isn't something he frets over, except when urges tend to dip towards the nefarious more often than not. Oaths are fragile promises and he doesn't want to risk Her Lady's protection over a few bad apples.

During their respite he finds himself watching Astarion. There's something strange about him. Something off. Not like Pyranikus is one to ask, though. But it's also more than just a peculiar feeling that glues his attention to the elf. It's annoyance. Those little pet names nip at his nerves like starved rats and he doesn't even realize how his eyes roll.

Astarion does.

Another pet name tacked onto a snarky little comment, the elf's favorite mode of speech. Coming to terms with getting caught, he returns his expression to something more neutral, though his irritation doesn't budge. It's those damned pet names.

"It must be a preemptive reaction to the joke you clearly heard from a clown." To try and prevent having to hear Astarion's retort, Pyranikus hefts himself and his gear towards a cluster of trees. Regret already nags at him. Regret for having said anything in return, as it always only seems to give the other a sense of joy.