Rosalia Rambles

Category: D&D

  • Kristiana’s Resolve

    (Approximate word count: 2500 words. Estimated reading time: 25 minutes.)

    “1. Being a paladin can be extremely hard, yet in equal measures, extremely fulfilling work!”

    Kristiana Yalanek recalled the words of her paladin primer pamphlet as she lay on the ground, having tried her best to valiantly fight some thieves who had stolen a backpack from a fellow adventurer. The backpack was recovered, and thankfully the victim had some healing skills which eased her pain, but the thieves had landed more hits on her than she had on them.

    Despite having had an incredibly tough fight, Kristiana was still trying to stand up and keep moving on to her destination. “Hey now,” the adventurer said, still applying bandages to the injured half-elf, “you probably shouldn’t be moving in your condition, you had some harsh stuff hit you.”

    The paladin smiled warmly despite her pain, wanting to reassure the adventurer that she was okay, “I appreciate your concern, kind stranger,” Kristiana said, gathering her things despite some few untreated wounds, “but you needn’t worry. I have had a fair few knocks in this journey already, and can treat them adequately myself!”

    Sighing as they knew a determined paladin was a hard force to stop, the adventurer was able to at least convince Kristiana to take some healing supplies for the road as if she were going to insist on treating their own wounds, she should at least not have to use her own equipment.

    The two said goodbye, and went off in their own directions. For Kristiana, this was the mining town of Phandalin.

    “5. The charity of those you help should always be accepted, but do not exert the kindness of strangers!”

    Being the ear to the ground individual she was, Kristiana had heard about the plight of Phandalin whilst she was in Gauntlgrym visiting her half-sister. Seeing this as a prime opportunity to go to a community in need and help out the way a paladin should, she shot off shortly after.

    This did not mean she stopped her own heroics. In every town she stopped along the way she tried to find a way to help out wherever she could, be it more direct action like she did with the thieves, performing in whatever tavern she was staying in to entertain other patrons, or something as simple as helping market traders load crates onto carts.

    Most of the time these acts went well, and even when they did not, Kristiana was no stranger to encountering difficulties when helping out. One of her very first attempts stands out to her.

    “28. Paladins should be strong, but it is not a weakness to admit you lack in certain areas!”

    It was on the far north of the Sword Coast, helping out at a small fishing village. Most of the locals were welcoming but a few were distrusting of outsiders, specifically some of the market traders.

    During an altercation one day, whilst Kristiana was able to apprehend some troublemakers who were attempting to vandalise various trading stalls, she did so at some collateral. A fair few traders disliked that, and so began to chase her out of town, throwing various objects at her as she ran.

    Eventually she made it far from the town borders, and finding a boulder to lean her back against let her finally catch her breath.

    Except that she saw a figure coming towards her from the direction of the town. A very tall, imposing, almost intimidating figure – a Goliath. Kristiana sighed, and began preparing a speech.

    “Now I understand you are mad sir,” she said, having to catch her breath already, “but I can assure you my intentions were good.”

    “I am not from that town, child,” the figure said in a somewhat booming voice, “I saw you run from those fools you just saved, and I want to give you a token of appreciation.”

    “Oh, well, I see… uhh… thank you sir!”

    “My name is Xonus, no need for formalities.”

    Xonus reached into a large satchel and pulled out a fresh side of salmon, handing it to the half-elf. It was incredibly large, almost enough to make a week’s worth of meals.

     “I must say,” Kristiana said, taking in the size of the fish presented to her, “this is awfully generous si-Xonus, are you sure you want to give it to me?”

    The goliath had already started walking away as he was asked this question, and had an extremely simple response, “I have bigger quarry to catch now.”

    Kristiana waved at her departing helper before she started to break the salmon down into portions for easy storage, feeling positively giddy at having had someone recognise her heroics.

    “17. Being recognised for your actions should always feel good, but the act of doing good should always feel great!”

    The paladin had come a long way since those moments, and had many more successful ventures. Importantly she had learnt about awareness during combat, to not allow herself to get caught up in the heat of battle, which was what led to the mistake back at the fishing village.

    Being from the rather small half-elf side of her family, there was always a feeling of disconnection in Kristiana’s life. Mainly from the parental side of things, as the elven father was cold and aloof to his half children, whilst the human mother was nowhere to be seen.

    Regardless of this, she had a good relationship with her fully elven half-sister Eirina. She often took visits to the great dwarven city of Gauntlgrym to go see her, one of these visits came shortly after her problems at the fishing village.

    “4. A true hero is nothing without a community, so lend a hand whenever you can to build one!”

    “Well I’m glad to see you’re okay at least,” Eirina said, walking through the market with her sister, “but I’m also concerned to see you pushing your luck like that.”

    “Do not fear, my half-sister dear!”, Kristiana said in response, beaming a smile to her worldly half-sister, “it is the nature of a paladin to-”

    “Krissie I love you dearly but please drop the noble paladin routine with me. I’m your sister, not some random brute from a place that can’t tell me what the sun is.”

    This blunt response caused Kristiana to pause briefly, before mumbling a response. “…well I’m your half-sister, not full sister.”

    “Another thing,” Eirina said, grabbing her sister by the shoulders, “stop with the semantics around our sisterhood. You’re my little sister, end of.”

    Kristiana sighed before carrying on walking alongside her sister. “It’s not pushing my luck,” she said, returning to the topic at hand, “it’s finding myself as the hero I want to be.”

    “I guess cause of his nature father never gave you the “bravery versus stupidity” talk did he?”

    “No, he did give me quite a firm handshake on my twenty-first birthday though!”

    Eirina felt her left eye twitch at that statement, having half a mind to go to Neverwinter, specifically to strangle someone, “well to cut out all the useless parts, the main thing is that being brave beyond your limits is usually unwise, and shouldn’t be pursued.”

    There was another pause from Kristiana, clearly thinking about this bit of advice, “…I suppose that’s true,” she said, reaching into her bag to pull out the pamphlet that had been guiding her, “but… I don’t want to let the notion of being stupid potentially stop me from doing something good, it goes against so many points of this guide!”

    Another eye twitch came from Eirina, this time from the sheer bloody-mindedness of her sister in regards to being a hero off the back of something a potentially hack paladin gave her.

    But she did not feel like fighting, especially when the family history was already so fraught with it. Instead she wanted to focus on having an enjoyable market trip with someone she enjoyed the company of.

    The two sisters explored the market, with Eirina specifically searching out materials for her next crafting project whilst Kristiana was just happy to get to talk to people, periodically asking if anyone needed any help. Even on “downtime”, she was unable to suppress her desire to help people.

    Eventually she came across a stall that was packing up, a cutesy hand painted sign reading “T’halia’s Treasures and Curiosities – find your fortune here!”.

    Behind the stall was a fairly short tiefling loading crates onto her cart, struggling with some of the heavier ones. Reassuming her paladin persona, Kristiana went behind the stall and approached the tiefling, the assumed T’halia.

    “Good afternoon miss!”, Kristiana said, with all the enthusiasm in the world, “I see you are having some trouble with those crates, would you like some assistance from your friendly local paladin?”

    The tiefling jumped slightly in response before turning to Kristiana. “Oh my god hi!”, she said, rushing to shake the hand of her newly found helper, “nice to meet you I’m T’halia, and yeah sure I’d love the help!”.

    Kristiana smiled as she began helping T’halia out, the two engaging in friendly conversation as they worked. Kristiana was quite taken aback with how friendly and social they were, especially compared to some of her previous encounters on her adventures.

    “So you’re a paladin?”, T’halia said, loading the last crate onto her cart, “that’s so cool! Do you like follow a god or something?”

    “Uhm, I have faith in the gods,” Kristiana said, helping her new found friend shut the gate of her cart and lock it, “but I am not currently a paladin of a god. In fact I am yet to even swear an oath.”

    “But that’s so cool though that you will! No matter what, I bet you’re gonna be an awesome paladin!”

    T’halia pulled Kristiana into a hug, one that the half-elf took a moment to reciprocate, but felt an intense warmth within her once she did. They broke off, and T’halia got her mule to get moving, pulling the cart along to her next destination in search of treasure.

    A voice came from behind Kristiana. “Hey, I wondered where you got off to.”

    It was her sister Eirina, carrying a fair few bags of crafting supplies, and a delicate box containing an absurdly chocolatey cake, “who was that?”, she said.

    Kristiana smiled, feeling an overwhelming sense of contentment within her, “a part of my community…”

    “…uh huh. Anyway, let’s get home and eat. Orianna’s probably dancing off the wall with hunger right now.

    “25. True heroes should never work hungry, always make sure to find time in your day to eat properly!”

    Good deeds always stuck in Kristiana’s mind, especially when they had such positive memories attached to them. It is part of what kept her going on days when her actions did not yield the positive results she wanted, or late at night when her nagging feelings were telling her to give up, that she was not good enough to be a paladin.

    Doubt about that often crept in during those hours, and tonight was no different. She was about two days away from Phandalin, the anxiety about going to a new town with unknown people with unknown reactions to her heroism had re-emerged, along with concerns about maintaining her eventual oath.

    In times like these, she tried to focus on times she has helped out, even if it was not her leading the effort.

    “13. A paladin should be a pillar, but they need not stand alone. Take direction from those in charge when necessary!”

    It was when she had heard of a natural disaster that had swept through a village close to Neverwinter Wood – several houses were destroyed and vital supplies had been ruined.

    Wanting to simultaneously prove her worth and lend a helping hand, Kristiana embarked on the journey, only taking a day’s travel to reach her destination. The sight she was greeted with hurt and warmed her heart in equal measures.

    The disaster was as bad as all the rumours she had heard before setting off. Support pillars of houses and businesses had been ripped from the ground to be displaced metres away from their original positions, fields of crops left bare and several people injured.

    Normally Kristiana would be the first to start leading the effort, but she was late to the scene and so a disaster-relief druid had started coordinating people.

    She was pointing at different people assembled around her and barking orders with confidence.

    “Tall farmer, start gathering what little supplies remain!”

    “Innkeeper, accompany him and work on a rationing plan!”

    “Half-elf paladin, go around clearing debris and aiding survivors!”

    Kristiana stood confused for a moment, not realising she had just been given an order. “Who, me?”, she said, pointing at herself.

    “Yes you!”, the druid said in response, seeming a little bewildered she had to clarify, “You’re a paladin, yes? Then you’re here to help, so get to it!”

    Suddenly overwhelmed with her sense of duty coming from a superior individual, Kristiana gave a salute to this druid, saying, “yes ma’am, right away!”, before running off to go carry out her assigned task.

    She did so very absent-mindedly though, as she kept catching herself looking back at how this druid was acting, and feeling in awe of how put together she came off. Kristiana often tried to project an aura of confidence in accordance with the advice in her pamphlet, but she worried it was a disingenuous one.

    Whoever this druid was – she did not catch her name due to the urgency of the situation, in addition to not asking for the names of those around her – she gave Kristiana incredible inspiration and aspiration, to be a leader like that in a time of crisis and do so with a solid projection of self-assurance.

    “18. Keep your eyes and ears open at all times. Not only is situational awareness important, but it could also lead to opportunities to help out!”

    These good memories helped Kristiana sleep, leaving her incredibly well rested once morning came properly. It was another two days of travel to Phandalin and not only did she feel less nervous about the opportunity in front of her, she was almost excited.

    There had been many opportunities in the past where she was able to prove her hero credentials, but this was her first chance to start building what she had always wanted from the start: a community. A group of people that she would be able to help get back on their feet long term, to see them grow, and to grow herself alongside them.

    Donning her armour, sheathing her sword and equipping a smile, Kristiana set off, ready to do her best.

    “9. Forgiveness is a key tenet for any Paladin. Even if you might struggle to forgive others, always remember to forgive yourself for any mistakes!”

    Inspiration

    Been a while hasn’t it?

    This is my first full piece in 2023, and it has honestly been a year of a lot of difficulty for me. Various personal issues coming to the surface, a work life of similar (if not greater) intensity, and just… not having the desire to express myself creatively.

    Which y’know, one of my goals this year was to write at a more sustainable pace to me rather than the previous year where I would sometimes have stories scheduled for most of a month, though, ten months gone without anything is definitely a bit of a severe break.

    Not as long as my general hiatus from D&D though, which actually ended with this character. A friend of mine started running her first game and asked if I wanted to be involved, which I was tentatively enthusiastic for. How the game is scheduled is definitely helping my prospects for it, as the usual schedule my group runs at became slightly unviable for me due to energy levels and life commitments.

    Initially, Kristiana was supposed to be a fairly simple character, just sort of greenhorn vibes, wanting to do the right thing. This then evolved into her being a “paint-by-numbers” paladin with the joke being she received a pamphlet from a random paladin she admired at a tavern she performed at.

    And then because I seemingly can’t fucking help myself sometimes, she has family trauma and transgender undertones… which makes sense for a half-elf paladin but seriously. With Kristiana at least the family trauma is not going to be a focal point of her character, partially because I want her arc to focus more on becoming the hero she wants to be than anything else…

    …which yes is leaning more into the trans side of her character. It’s something though.

    I’m making no promises on future writings, but this felt good to write, and any constructive feedback would be appreciated.

  • Honesty’s Wakeup Call

    Gems, jewels, and crystals are sought after in the world for many different reasons. Those of the magical arts sometimes require them to cast their most potent spells, nobles desire them in order to display their status above all others, and if worst comes to worst, they make excellent trading fodder.

    For Har Vetro, the sight of gems gave him inspiration. He heard almost a calling from gems, a want to be in with the finer things in life, and working with gems was sure to be the path to getting what he wanted. 

    But for the longest time, he did not know how exactly he could use gems. He only knew what his gut told him. That was until he reached the age where he had become more aware of the world, and started seeing the merchants that his clan did business with.

    They came from all over, and came in many different shapes, sizes, and colours. Tall with slender features, pale skin, and horns of all different magnitudes. Closer to kobold height but with the faces of birds and rats. Amongst all of them though, they shared one common trait.

    Stories.

    Every merchant Har came into contact with told the most fantastical stories, of worlds beyond dark portals, lands where dragons ruled above all else, and forests full of mysterious items just waiting to be plundered.

    One day the young kobold tugged on an errant bit of fur on a coat to get the attention of a Northlands merchant, who had been selling various pelts from his homeland. “Aye lad, can I help you?”, he said, confused at the kobold getting his attention in such an odd way, but smiling warmly all the same.

    “Yes I uh…”, Har Vetro trailed off, nerves setting in at speaking to a merchant properly for the first time, “I… want to be like you…”.

    “Oh? You wanna be a merchant?”

    “Yes! Uhm… gems…?”

    “You want to trade in gems?”

    Har Vetro nodded enthusiastically, and the merchant rubbed his thick, greying beard, feeling a little perplexed at the nature of this kobold compared to the rest of his clan. Whilst most kobolds had a cunning intellect and fierce engineering prowess, it was a bit unusual to meet one so interested in such an intricate art such as gems.

    “Hmm… best bet would be heading east from here,” the merchant said, taking out a hand-drawn map, showing various towns and cities with small icons next to them, pointing to one with a gem, a stick figure, and a fencepost, “this town is called Menlo, it has a handful of respected jewellers who might be interested in taking an apprentice on. Plenty of other ventures if gems don’t work out.”

    The kobold’s eyes gleamed like the object of his fascination. This was his chance to break out into the world beyond the clan and find his life’s greater purpose. The Northlands merchant had offered to take him, but Har wanted a day or two to get his affairs in order before leaving. They exchanged names properly before parting ways, with the Northlander giving his name as Valtteron.

    When the day finally came, there was no real fanfare or solemn goodbye from the rest of the clan, just a mere “safe travels” from many. It did not bother the kobold much, as he knew he was going to be able to do great things in the wider world.

    Travelling to Menlo was mostly uneventful, a few wandering adventuring parties were found along the way, whose stories Har also listened to. Whilst the life of an adventurer sounded exciting, he knew the dangers would far exceed any of his tolerances for what he was willing to put up with.

    After approximately three days worth of travel, he had arrived, and was almost immediately shocked by the new environment before him. Merchants and other traders bustled through busy streets as all sorts of customers haggled for different wares – all of them much taller than the kobold, leading to some feeling of intimidation.

    Nonetheless, he carried on through the crowds of people, looking to whatever stands he came across hoping he could find a jeweller. It took some time, but eventually they reached a fairly shabby looking stand, with wooden crates filled with gems of all different cuts.

    Their short stature meant they only came eye level to the hand-painted sign hanging beneath the stand, reading “Gems! I got them! You probably want them!”. To a lot of others in the market, such an unprofessional sign meant business was usually lacking. To Har, this triggered his fixation, leading to him jumping up and down to get the proprietor’s attention.

    “Huh… what… kobold?”, the somewhat sleepy stall owner said as they saw Har jumping in front of their eyes, “what are you looking for little guy?”. 

    Har stopped jumping and walked round the side of the stall in order to have a proper conversation. “My name is Har Vetro,” he began, puffing out his chest slightly to appear more confident, “and I am looking to travel the world as a merchant in search of stories and gems!”

    “Uh huh…”, the stall owner nodded slowly, not really being all there themselves, “and you came to me because…?”

    “Uhm, well, I was told the great town of Menlo had many respected jewellers looking for apprentices, and your professional stand made me decide to approach you!”

    “Right… not exactly hiring an apprentice per say, but I do got a lot of gems that need refinement… suppose I could put you to work with the cutting tools…”

    The lack of enthusiasm in the merchant’s voice would be apparent to almost any discerning individual.

    Har Vetro did not know the meaning of the word.

    To him, this felt like a real chance to get the experience, and funds, he needed to break free into the world. Without taking much time to deliberate, Har agreed to the offer and once more exchanged names, learning this merchant was called Cozbi.

    Work was as described. Everyday Har would come to the stand and take position behind Cozbi, being handed various unprocessed stones with instructions on how they were to be cut. Business was slow but consistent, with customers of all colours coming to purchase gems, some respectable looking types, some much shadier.

    However, despite how much money Cozbi was taking in, Har very rarely saw a major cut of the profits, barely making enough to support their lodgings and lifestyle leading to not being able to save towards their goal of travelling the continents.

    This continued for a couple of months, until finally Har was informed that the stall would be closing. Cozbi had made enough money to comfortably retire to somewhere in the Southlands, and that Har’s services would no longer be required, he was free to keep the jeweller’s tools though as Cozbi had no use of them.

    Disheartened, but with moderate experience under his belt, Har took the journey back to his clan. They had not given him much fanfare on departure, but he knew they would welcome him back, after all he now had the knowledge that could help the clan’s spoils from the mine.

    This was most certainly not the case, as they were stopped by two watchmen as they attempted to enter back into the clan.

    “But… but I can help the clan! I went off and learnt gem cutting under an expert merchant!”, Har said, feeling hurt at the actions of his once clutchmates.

    “You could have learnt that here,” one watchman said, snarling slightly as he did.

    “But you were too good for us, you had to go off to a big city and leave us behind,” the other watchman said, matching the snarl with a growl of his own before the two spoke in unison.

    “By order of the King, Har Vetro is hereby banished from the clan. They are persona non grata, and their name is taboo. Any attempt by the banished to re-enter the clan will be met with deadly force.”

    Har wanted to argue his case.

    Har wanted to buy his way back into the clan’s good graces.

    In the end, Har walked away. Alone, cut off, lost.

    Knowing nowhere else within the vicinity, he decided to head back to Menlo. Despite being left high and dry by their previous employer, they did still have some savings with which to support a meagre lifestyle whilst they tried to find another source of revenue within town.

    For tonight though, he was going to drown their sorrows at the inn he was staying at. It was a fairly busy night, with different groups all doing their own thing. Har sat alone, with a bevy of drinks they pre-bought to avoid having to get up from their table, preferring to just sit and stew for a moment.

    “Psst…”, came a voice from behind Har, startling him slightly before turning around to find its owner, a hooded gnoll, “hey, kobold, come over here for a moment.”

    Har stood up from their table, taking one of the larger bottles of spirit with them as the gnoll guided him into a darker part of the inn to speak quietly, but not before grabbing his maw and looking closely at his eyes. The kobold attempted to protest but was quickly let go, “good, you’re not too drunk yet,” said the gnoll.

    “And what exactly can I do for you, my good sir?”, Har said, brushing themselves down before taking a swig.

    “Bastard behind the bar took my blades in a card game. And I want them back.”

    “My apologies, I am not one to bet or one to be good at card games.”

    “Don’t need you to be,” the gnoll said, gesturing down to a broken space in between boards leading to the backrooms, “I’ll cause a distraction up front, you crawl through and grab my swords. They’re in burgundy sheaths so should be easy to spot.”

    This request gave Har pause. He was not a criminal, he did not have the minerals within him to commit such acts. 

    “Get it done quick and quiet, once you get my beauties back to me I’ll pay you ten gold.”

    How much?

    That was a lot of money. That would allow Har to support themselves for some time yet as they tried to find honest work in town. It was just one slightly dishonest job, how bad could it be? 

    He gave the gnoll a confident nod, crouching down to the space before watching them go off and launch into an angry tirade at a random patron.

    “AND ABOUT HOW MUCH OF A SLUT YOU WERE BACK THEN!”

    A number of people jumped into action to try to break up this seemingly random fight, including several of the bartenders. Crawling through the boards, Har got into the backroom and scanned the area. There were a lot of barrels, some crates of dried food, some fresh from the market.

    There.

    Right at the back.

    A rapier and a dagger, both encased in custom burgundy sheaths. Har danced along the floor, as the argument seemed to reach its conclusion with the gnoll being asked politely to leave, or else there would be further problems. Har did not have much time, they grabbed the swords, but froze as soon as they heard the door open.

    “Bloody furry bastard… glad I took his fucking swords…”

    This was bad. Har was about to get caught, and considering what he was holding, he would most definitely be seen as an accomplice to what just took place. In a moment of equal parts cunning and panic, he grabbed an apple and tossed it against a far wall, splattering into pieces as it impacted.

    “What was that?!”

    The person who had entered the backroom went to go investigate the sound. Quickly scanning his surroundings Har saw an opening onto the streets through another broken wall and dashed out of it, sliding underneath and making a beeline to front of the inn. 

    The gnoll stood grumbling outside, lamenting that they might never get to see their precious weapons again, until Har came up to them and presented them.

    “Well I’ll be…”, they said with a toothy smile, taking their weapons and securing them back on their person, “my distraction plan went wrong and you still got these out without a fuss.”

    Har smiled weakly, his heart beating incredibly fast from the adrenaline of such a close call. The gnoll leaned down and handed him the promised sack of gold, “I’ll also be letting some of the undesirables in town know of your services,” they said, walking off into the night, “friends of mine could use a guy like you.”

    Har tried to protest, but the gnoll was already far gone. The weight of the sack of gold reassured him somewhat, but uncertainty gripped him about being asked to do more work for “undesirables”, whatever that meant exactly. For now, they were tired, and very much needed a long rest.

    Morning came, and Har awoke to a selection of notes having been pushed under his door. All of them were written in thieves’ cant, but he had a basic enough understanding to know what was being asked of him.

    Informant duties. Asset recovery. Fence services. All manner of illicit acts and deeds that Har would have never considered before today. He was in need of reliable income though, and if this was needed to fund a more honourable merchant career, what was the harm?

    This cycle continued for a while, the nights would be spent fulfilling requests and handling the needs of all manner of customers, with new notes being left under the door each morning. With such steady work, Har was able to afford a more modest lifestyle, and save towards their merchant career.

    However it was still seemingly not enough to fund a journey across the continents, it would not even have been enough to buy a bag of gems at Cozbi’s old stall. 

    This led to Har hatching an idea, he would start bigging himself up more on certain jobs, embellishing his achievements and hinting that he has taken on much more dangerous jobs than he is already taking. This would surely lead to better things, right?

    It only took a couple of days for these rumours to take root, news travels fast in underground communities. Now Har was receiving more difficult and dangerous duties. Complex heists. Poisoning politicians. Smuggling things in and out of Menlo.

    These jobs were completed and the money started rolling in more. Soon enough all Har needed to do was one last job before having everything they needed to start their journey as an honest merchant. 

    And as if by magic, one final lucrative opportunity came up in the form of a box filled with bags of platinum and instructions.

    “Scales. Rendezvous at town’s edge at midnight. Live cargo requiring delivery to the local academy. Bring included payment to Boreas. Anything left is yours.”

    From what he could interpret, Har figured this was some kind of monster being smuggled into the local arcane academy which needed discretion and caution to avoid startling the townsfolk. With one large sack of platinum and one smaller sack, Har knew this would be more than enough to start life anew.

    The arranged time came closer, and Har approached the designated meeting point. Once they got there they heard a familiar voice call out to them.

    It was Valtteron. The merchant who had inspired them to go on their journey to Menlo. Behind them they were pulling a large metal cage cart, full of…

    Humanoids.

    In chains.

    This was not a monster delivery job.

    This was slave transportation.

    “B-Boreas?”, Har said, stuttering their words in disbelief at the merchant they looked up to initially carrying such an immoral cargo.

    “Aye, it means “northern wind”… local abbess is fond of specific nicknames for who she works with.”

    “Abbess? I thought this was going to the magic school…”

    “Ahh, your thieves’ cant must need some work. Academy means “brothel”, and abbess is the mistress of said brothel. Needs new stock so I brought some in.”

    “You… you trade in slaves?!”

    “Aye, you saw my map right? Menlo is good for gems, fences, and slaves, as noted by my icons.”

    In that short moment, Har’s world shattered completely. The person who had been the impetus for him starting this journey was completely amoral to the deeds he was committing, seeing them simply as ‘stock’ rather than real people who had been forced into this.

    Har looked deep within himself, and realised that this was the level he had brought himself to through his deeds. This was the natural consequence of his actions, dealing with slavers and the moral weight that came with it.

    He had set out to become a merchant, but instead had become not even a common criminal, but a professional one, taking on duties they never expected to because of the lies he told.

    The kobold silently walked over to Valtteron and handed him the large bag of platinum. “I’ll get the job done,” he said, trying his best to put on a salesman’s smile, “you go get yourself some rest.”

    “You sure lad?”, Valtteron said, “usually I handle jobs like these with both myself and the bag man.”

    “Positive, they’re all chained up so I should have no issue sneaking them across town.”

    The Northlander gave a nod before taking the sack, handing over the keys, and whistling away into the night. Har waited until the sound had fully disappeared before opening up the cage doors.

    All of the humanoids cowered in fear as he went near them, but relaxed their posture as Har went around and unlocked their manacles. Thinking this was their chance for freedom, once all of them were out of their chains they jumped on Har, attempting to beat him down so they had a clear break at an escape.

    Whilst he realised he most certainly deserved this, for a multitude of reasons, he spoke his case as well as he could. “Stop, please!”, he said, jostling himself away from the angry former slaves, “I’m not taking you to the brothel… I’m setting you free…”

    All of the slaves stopped in that moment.

    All bar one, who already had the momentum going for a stomach kick and followed through with it, knocking the wind out of Har.

    “Okay… still definitely deserved that… even if it hurt…”

    “I got into a criminal lifestyle to try to fund a more honourable career, but it was a fool’s errand… please, let me help you start new lives, as penance.”

    The humanoids looked among themselves, trying to communicate through facial expressions and body language alone. After a brief non-verbal deliberation, they all nodded, following Har off of the cart and tailing him to the inn he had been staying at.

    Upon seeing all of these people so late the landlord tried to kick up a fuss, but the other bag of platinum Har had acquired as part of this job shut him up very quickly. The kobold worked tirelessly to set up each former slave with clothes, supplies, a destination, and most importantly, gold, from his own personal stash no less.

    By the early hours of dawn, each one of them was ready to start a new life, as Har guided them through a smuggling route only he knew about, leading them out of the city and far away from the life they were going to be forced to.

    After the last one had disappeared out of sight, Har looked over at the town before making his own disappearing act. Setting up all of the former slaves with enough money to make it somewhere had massively depleted his own resources, leaving him with only a few gold pieces.

    He wandered the plains for a week or two, trying to find any semblance of civilization for him to try to embed himself in, ideally far away from anything criminal.

    Eventually, the wanderings of Har Vetro brought him to the great city of Zobeck, a major trading hub within the world. A fine place to learn to become a more honest merchant, and for Har to maybe find a new kobold family.

    The streets were busy, far more busy than Menlo ever was. Traders of all kinds bartered and bargained with customers of all types. Har thought back to when he approached Cozbi, wondering if he should do that here, but paranoia prevailed and he kept on walking until he reached a more kobold centric area of the city.

    Various doors of different clans came into sight. One with pickaxes, but Har was not one for the mines. Another with swords, but Har was not an aggressive type.

    One door stood out to him, one with an elaborate cog design engraved into it. He recognised it from one of his previous jobs, a kobold king from Zobeck named Vantar had asked for some important components to be retrieved for them. Har figured since they had rapport, they would have a better chance at finding asylum here.

    He knocked the door, and it opened gently to a moderately armoured kobold guardsman. Despite their appearance, they were remarkably friendly, “hello there, how are you doing?”

    Har was upfront about his intentions, “I seek an audience with King Vantar.”

    The guardsman remained friendly, but was now wary of the kobold before them, “that’s a bit of a bold request from a stranger,” they said, holding the door slightly ajar, “may I ask who you are?”

    “My name is Har Vetro, I was asked to do a job for your clan back in Menlo, recovering components of some kind.”

    A gasp escaped from the guardsman’s maw as he flung the door wide open and invited Har inside, muttering rapidly about “the one who saved the king”, bringing him deep within the warren to eventually reach the king’s chambers.

    What Har was expecting was a kobold.

    They were not expecting this kobold to be a Gearforged.

    A Gearforged is created when a soul is transplanted into a soul gem, which is then placed inside a body of metal and cogs, effectively granting the individual eternal life. Replacement components for Gearforged can sometimes be tricky to find, but this bit of information gave Har more context on why the job initially came through.

    “Your excellency, I present Har Vetro,” the guardsman said, announcing the arrival of the so-called saviour, “he is the one who gathered parts for your repair!”

    Vantar whirred into life, standing from his throne and approaching Har. A normal kobold stood around three-feet, but due to his mechanical body, Vantar stood almost double that height. “You did me a great service,” he said, a synthetic yet melodic voice ringing out, “ask anything of me, and I shall do my best to give it.”

    Har stood for a moment, pondering what he should say. He could lie about why he came here and play the situation into his hands, or he could twist the truth to achieve a similar goal.

    Not today, Har thought. Both routes were how he got himself into this mess, the truth would better serve his intentions here.

    “I seek asylum under your leadership. Back in Menlo I was involved in all sorts of criminal activity, none of which I ever wanted to be a part of. My breaking point came when I was asked to transport slaves to a brothel, instead I set them free and left the town behind, eventually coming to your door with this humble request.”

    Gears and pistons whirred and pushed as Vantar considered this request, before giving a nod paired with a bow. “I shall honour your request,” he said, looking his new subject up and down, “you have both asylum and a new name under my protection.”

    “New name?”, Har said, curious but mildly concerned.

    “Yes, the criminal known as Har Vetro is no more. The kobold merchant known as “Honesty” will serve this clan better.”

    Honesty was filled with all different emotions, but all of them were positive. He had been given a new start and a new chance at realising his dreams. 

    This kobold clan was friendlier than his initial one as well. They gave him the rundown on how Zobeck works, the different kinds of people within it, along with the latest murmurings from the Shadow Realm. Shadow fey were a key part of Zobeck’s economy, with a lot of them speaking in hushed whispers about an incident involving a phoenix sorcerer a couple weeks back.

    Nonetheless, Honesty had found a new home, a new life, and a new chance to be who they wanted to be.

    Inspiration

    Commission number two done, and it is entirely fitting that it fits into the Marieyaverse.

    Patent pending, that stupid name is mine.

    The person who plays Honesty had their backstory written down in note form for the longest time, and upon learning that I was now accepting commissions, asked me to translate these notes into a proper story.

    Working from notes with creative freedom in how to interpret them was incredibly fun, because normally I do not work from notes in my own work. For backstory pieces I have plot beats in mind and general story progression but I tend to go with my own flow, and for session-inspired stories I normally reconstruct them from the chat logs in the server.

    Having that creative freedom led to some interesting story moments. There was nothing specific in Honesty’s backstory about where they did most of their crimes, and who exactly was selling slaves, which led to me developing Valtteron as this almost amoral sort of character who changed Honesty’s path multiple times, for better or worse.

    Random side tangent: there’s two themes I always seem to put into my stories one way or another, usually entirely subconsciously. They are the themes of “being transgender”, and “being lonely”. Now, the loneliness theme should be apparent, Honesty being left alone because of their actions multiple times.

    But as I was going over this story during the editing phase, I had a realisation that made me swear quite loudly once I had realised the trans theme had snuck in. Honesty is a new name, given to someone who wants to leave their old life behind…

    “Har Vetro” is Honesty’s deadname.

    I said when I started this year I wanted to write stories “sharing joy about being trans”, I was not expecting that theme to insert itself even into my commissions.

    So… hire me if you want trans fiction no matter the scenario?

    As usual, any and all feedback is appreciated.

  • Orianna’s Realisation

    (Approximate story word count: 800 words. Estimated reading time: 8 minutes. CW: death)

    After a gruelling battle against an ambushing pack of fae spiders, the group attempted to continue marching towards the stronghold in an effort to find out what is going within Gracklstugh. With Juliet pushing herself beyond her limits with her combat style, the journey was soon interrupted by the need to rest, as she had slowly fallen to be travelling at half the speed of the party.

    Seb sniffed around the area, using the refined senses of an Undermountain dwelling kobold to seek out somewhere to make a safe camp. A small area surrounded by stones was found, looking almost like a campsite made ready for anyward travellers, the guides setting up camp whilst an order of watches was determined.

    Seb would go first, followed by Lorelei, finishing with Orianna.

    The time passed between first and second watch without much issue, leading to Orianna being awoken by Lorelei with the hope of having something happen, something exciting, not another nail breaking thank you very much.

    Orianna stood at the edge of the campsite, flitting about on her heels as she kept a watchful eye on everything. Ready to strike, waiting for the right moment to launch into action, letting her true combat prowess show…

    …please?

    Something had to happen soon, she was sure of it. This was a dangerous location, with all sorts of nasty creatures lying in wait to attack, she would even take a Piercer right now!

    With nothing seeming to be on the horizon, Orianna took out her weapons to give them a bit of tender loving care. Running a whetstone along the grooves of the blades gently, bringing them back to a gleaming edge, singing a merry tune as she did.

    Until she felt a shoe fly by her head.

    Juliet, who really did need the sleep right now, told her to pack it in. Orianna apologised before finishing off her work and hoping it had passed some amount of time.

    That only took fifteen minutes?!

    The boredom was starting to get to the fighter, who then decided to go for a walk to try to help the time pass faster. There was not much point going further along the tunnel so she decided to retrace her steps, hoping that it would at least stimulate her mind a bit.

    Everything sort of looked the same as it was when they passed through before.

    Wait.

    No.

    That body is new.

    They were not here when we passed through, and whatever killed them did some pretty nasty damage. It was a stab wound which seemed to have carved through them entirely, not that they were particularly well armoured to begin with, the leather of their armour having seen better days.

    In fact the weapon they were carrying was worse for wear too, a beaten up scimitar that not even a good sharpening session would fix. They did not even have many possessions beyond that.

    Someone needed to know.

    Orianna dashed back to camp and woke up the first person she saw, which was Seb. The kobold was disoriented but soon came round and followed Orianna along in the tunnel, eventually reaching the body. 

    Seb admitted to stabbing them, saying he was attacked first, brushing it off as it was nothing.

    Nothing?

    A person died alone in the middle of the Underdark. No one was around to pass on the news. Nothing that could be seen to identify a close friend or relative.

    Is this what death truly is?

    Orianna had spent years proving her worth in fighting pits, excelling in combat was the only thing she had known was real to her…

    …but people always got back up.

    Or there was always someone around to put a healing spell out there.

    In a sort of fugue state of insecurity, Orianna gathered some dust and dirt from around the area to put on top of the body, pushing it to the side slightly. There was no way to give them a proper burial here, but she needed to do something.

    She stared at the lifeless body of this nameless bandit a bit while longer, hearing some of Eirina’s last words echoing in her mind.

    Fighting was all she had known, and she charged into the Underdark because of a bad breakup, hoping that it would be able to clear her head or help her move on. Instead she had to come face-to-face with a harsh truth of life.

    Not everyone gets back up.

    A lot of the time, people are going to stay dead.

    Not everyone has healers around to patch them back up.

    Especially not her anymore.

    Orianna and Seb walked back to camp as everyone was slowly rousing from their sleep and getting ready for the day. Some tried to ask Orianna what she had seen but she walked silently back to her bedroll and sat there for a bit in silent contemplation.

    The pain of losing Eirina was starting to fade.

    The realisation of how the world works had begun to set in.

    Inspiration

    Wholesome. Heavy. Wholesome. Heavy.

    This seems to be the cycle I keep myself in with Orianna stories. Where one slice-of-life story is born, another must be created that develops Orianna’s character further or brings new insight to her backstory.

    And in a way, I feel this is a natural progression of her character. Take a look at Orianna’s AC above, along with her saving throws. Pretty resistant, yeah?

    Except in two of her main mental stats: Intelligence and Wisdom. She is not a smart or worldly girl, and she hides this through her armour, loud personality, and prowess in combat. Canonically Orianna is also one of my younger characters, at only nineteen years of age. 

    She still has a lot of maturing to do and it seems fitting that after the amount of mistakes she has made, life is forcibly catching up with her through being exposed to things in the Underdark.

    Despite this being short I like the message it delivers in such a short amount of time, and that I attempted it without using dialogue directly, styling it more as an inner monologue than anything else.

  • Marieya’s Assignment

    (Approximate story word count: 2000 words. Estimated reading time: 20 minutes.)

    Darkness claimed Marieya Ebontide. Surrounding her were illusions of dragons, phoenix, and the Demon Lord of Conquest. All challenges she was preparing to face down to the best of her ability, to prove that she had moved past her worries, doubts, and had grown into a powerful adventurer.

    She stood firm, smirking in the face of danger for the first time in a while as every foe before her fell. Feeling pride at her expertise and prowess. Suddenly, a bright light shined through the darkness, piercing into her sensitive eyes, blinding her as everything went white and…

    Wait.

    No.

    That is just the sun.

    Mary London was just dreaming about her Dungeons & Dragons game again, Marieya Ebontide was but a character who faced such hardships. She did not need to worry about any sort of difficulty in her own life, and so settled back down into her bed.

    There was just one thing stopping her from sleeping again.

    “Oh sweet mother of fuck I have an assignment due today!”

    Launching herself out of bed, catapulting a used plastic plate onto the floor as her extremely thick duvet was tossed aside, she darted over to her very disorganised desk. Used mugs, trading cards, and energy drink bottles of various fullness were left either side of a well-loved laptop.

    As Mary’s course was video game development, so was the laptop’s primary purpose in life. It had survived several knocks, slams, and even undergone a full motherboard replacement when it had decided to die suddenly, but it still carried on.

    “Come on, come on, come on, LOAD!”, she screamed as the poor computer went through a painfully slow boot cycle, grabbing and shaking some of the bottles to determine which one was worth taking a swig from until she eventually just necked the contents of a few of them, satisfying both her craving and withdrawal symptoms.

    After a prolonged period of time, Mary had managed to get into her operating system and was able to open the Harmony engine. The project was mostly completed, all it needed were a few finishing touches, some code comments added and it would be ready for-

    “Project files corrupted. Attempts to recover from backup files failed. Project cannot be opened.”

    -well that is unfortunate.

    A stunned silence was paired with a shocked expression on Mary’s face, weeks of panicked work had just completely gone down the toilet with no chance of getting anything submittable together in time. Jitters of both anxiety and caffeine set in as the girl tried to figure out what to do.

    Eventually she just sighed and got out her phone, texting her Student Wellbeing Mentor and long-suffering dungeon master, Elizabeth. The message was incoherent, rambly, and was totally not a cry for help disguised under interesting word choice, but Ellie was used to dealing with Mary’s breakdowns, the two having talked when the latter broke down crying in a study room during first year.

    One quick shower and some solid food later, Mary had calmed down somewhat, though she was still checking her phone every few seconds to see if Ellie had texted back yet. A soft vibration indicated a message had arrived, which Mary checked with anxious anticipation.

    “Got the letter drawn up. You get another week to try to recover the project to the best of your ability, but the lecturers are understanding generally. Booked you in with Tobias for another addiction session – please attend this time, okay?”

    Mary grumbled as she read the text, appreciative she had some more time to try salvage her project but begrudging the fact she was having to endure another help session, she was not that bad!

    “Man I need a drink,” she said, finding the last not-empty bottle of energy drink to finish off, taking a long deep sigh after swigging it all. Deciding to ignore the increasing intensity of her heart palpitations, she went to get dressed and attempt to convince normal people she was not a walking disaster.

    To achieve this, her outfit of choice was the same thing she wore every day. An oversized black band hoodie, a simple black pleat skirt, black dance tights, and black ankle boots. Her mussed but clean white hair provided a sharp contrast to her “please do not perceive me” outfit, brushing it out gently before pulling some of it into a high ponytail, letting the rest fall across her shoulders.

    She checked her phone, opening up her messaging app and checking the group chat she was in with the rest of her tabletop group. They had all met via Elizabeth’s game, facilitated as part of an ongoing university effort to reduce stress and promote student relationships, although given all bar one individual in this game frequented her office and her inbox, the first goal might still need to be achieved.

    MaryMumbles: “Lunch anyone? Craving burgies rn.”

    PackTacticsArt: “Nah, taking a lazy day. Stayed up till 5am doing commissions cause I forgot time was a thing.”

    SecretlyAnOstrich: “Got a lecture coming up, and the sanctuary needs me urgently after. Have fun :)”

    GoinGrey: “Working all day today. Someone demolished a section of the library so I’m stuck repairing bookshelves.”

    MaryMumbles: “Alrighty then, enjoy your days everyone. Means no one is around to talk me out of buying more energy juice!”

    Elizabeth83: “I literally just booked you an addiction meeting.”

    PotterLastHorcrux: “Speaking of meetings, I’m on my way up to your office.

    Elizabeth83: “This is the third time today. Why now?”

    Sensing Harry was about to explain something incriminating again, Mary quickly set the group chat to mute. Harry, short for Harriett, was one of her closest friends at university, if just for the amount of trouble they both respectively got into meant they were frequently waiting outside various support offices, which was where they established their rapport. 

    Harry was not a troublemaker per say, but he was not at university for the enriching academic experience it provided. The choice of a business degree had helped him develop his side ventures into more sustainable organisations. Some legitimate, such as his weekly student mindfulness tea meetup, and some less than legitimate, including a minor investment in an essay mill.

    You did not hear that from Mary though.

    Despite being one of the most attended universities in the city, Archvale University did not have dedicated on-campus living. Instead various blocks of flats were established within walking distance of the main collection of buildings with the city centre just a couple of minutes further.

    After those couple of minutes, Mary was in burger paradise. Archvale was a business hub with several technology studios and product design agencies in addition to being a major student town, meaning there was no shortage of either fast food or more refined dining experiences.

    However, the latter was not the craving right now. After a morning of panic, nerves, and jitters all being made worse by the amount of caffeine ingested so early on, Mary needed the familiar comfort of something greasy, kind of mushy, and loaded with cheese.

    Being early enough in the day, the nondescript burger place had not many people around. Some families enjoying an early lunch, night shift workers taking in an unconventional breakfast, and students like Mary who needed the comfort right now. 

    Despite this lack of customers, Mary used the self-service kiosk all the same, because talking to people right now did not seem fun. 

    Mary’s loyalty app on her phone had a concerning number of points built up, and now seemed like a good moment to get some of them used up. Two extra-large cheese burgers with bacon and extra gherkin, two portions of onion rings, and a massive bag of jalapeno cheese bites, with a milkshake to wash it down.

    The order was completed at a reasonable pace, and Mary took it to the upstairs seating area to get some more privacy, picking a table close to a large bay window so she could people watch as she ate. Despite the tray being loaded with food, it was all empty calories, so it disappeared fairly quickly, leaving just the milkshake to casually slurp on.

    Given the stresses of the day thus far, Mary felt like she wanted to do some writing as she let her food settle. Her bulky laptop was too cumbersome to be able to carry around to cafes and restaurants, but her aPad had stayed by her side through thick and thin. The design was sleek and elegant, with a minimalist shark logo on the shimmering silver back.

    Navigating through folders, eventually Mary came to the bulk folder in which their collective writings are stored. The majority of them were character stories, but she also had review-style articles she had written, some more needlessly detailed than others.

    Unfortunately, the ideas were not flowing right away. Despite being confronted with at least four work-in-progress stories, Mary had no desire to work on any of them, and if the inspiration was not flowing, then it was not right to try to force the work to happen.

    Instead she chose to read through an old story of hers, one of the most emotionally intense she had ever written. “Marieya’s Emancipation”, the story of how her character had to fight against her friends to… save…

    No…

    It was… her who did that?

    That does not sound right. Marieya is a character.

    But she could feel the burning sensations described in the story.

    Not just experiencing the writing, she was able to feel everything as written. As if it had actually happened to her.

    It can not have happened though. It was just a tabletop game.

    More memories? Dragons. Undead. Phoenixes.

    We did what in a homeless shelter?!

    Panic began to set in around Mary, sensations and thoughts flooding her mind, threatening to overwhelm her very being as she sweated within her clothes, feeling fire brewing within her very soul.

    Then, nothing.

    A pleasant mist descended upon Mary’s mind, obscuring what had come to the surface and letting it sink back into the fantasy the mist had created.

    These were just stories.

    They were acted out in a tabletop game.

    There is no one called Marieya Ebontide.

    Her heart rate and body temperature returning to normal, Mary closed her writing folder and went to finish off her milkshake, the cool & refreshing taste helping to further ease the heat she had been feeling.

    Putting the aPad back away into her bag, she disposed of her tray and used wrappers properly before leaving the burger place. A soothing rain had rolled over the city, nothing too intense, just a light drizzle. Mary’s hoodie had seen all sorts of weather, and with the hood pulled up it acted well enough as a raincoat.

    In her pocket she felt her phone buzzing. The mute she had put in place on the group chat had expired, and messages were now flowing once more, including Elizabeth trying to get people organised for the next Dungeons & Dragons session.

    Elizabeth83: “So does Tuesday work for people?”

    SecretlyAnOsterich: “Could be at the sanctuary but I’ll try be available! :D”

    GoinGrey: “Late shift that day, would be difficult to make it.”

    PackTacticsArt: “Might be awake? I dunno, will see.”

    PotterLastHorcrux: “Jury duty”

    MaryMumbles: “That addiction session you booked me onto.”

    Elizabeth83: “How about Friday?”

    As Elizabeth and the others tried to resolve the infinite number of scheduling conflicts that came with being university students trying to organise a hobby, Mary took a quick detour through the budget supermarket that was a few minutes walk from her flat. 

    An energy drink problem could have been expensive, but it was a good thing that this place did one litre bottles of the stuff for cheap… intense amounts of chemicals that were bad for the system notwithstanding. Mary needed the help.

    She still had that assignment to try salvage.

    Inspiration

    If Marieya stories give me a whole range of emotions to work with and play off, the one that would describe this best (for both reader and writer) is confusion. I’ll try my best to clear everything up.

    So as part of the Midgard campaign, in order to power-level a bit outside of the main game world, our DM presented us with an extraplanar portal that led to a variety of worlds/settings. We could have picked Castle Ravenloft, the Nostromo, or even the Queen Anne’s Revenge.

    What we ended up selecting partially through me realising what one of the worlds could lead to and press ganging the party into picking it, was a modern setting. Specifically, we had been brought into a City of Mist from… City of Mist. The moment we arrived in the world, we became Sleepers, unaware of our own power and given false memories as completely normal university students.

    This was why I pushed for going into the modern settings. Since about three months after Midgard started, I had a stupid idea of writing a university alternate universe (AU) but it never came to fruition for various reasons. Thanks to some hyperactive pitch techniques, the party accepted the idea and thus, Mary London was born.

    Her name is a joke based off the fact that “Marieya Ebontide” is basically just “noun place” as a fantasy name. The rest of her personality though…

    …let’s just say I was not a shining paragon of a person during university for several reasons. 

    I am not really embellishing anything when it comes to the energy drink habits I describe in the story, I frequently downed bottles of cheap stuff which was then mixed with empty calorie lunches from Burger King. The waistline effects of these habits I’m still feeling today.

    But regardless, despite using a lot of self-callouts as the roleplay prompts, I have a lot of fun playing Mary, and I love the characterisations that the rest of the party have given their completely normal university students.

  • Orianna’s Encounter

    (Approximate story word count: 1800 words. Estimated reading time: 18 minutes.)

    As becoming of the City of Skilled Hands, the markets of Neverwinter were bustling. Traders from all over the Sword Coast had gathered to sell their wares, adventurers haggled for gear to take on their next great mission, and dwarves & gnomes partook in friendly arguments over who had made the best esoteric inventions.

    In amongst all the chaos, Orianna du Fior was elegantly dancing her way through the crowd. Despite wearing heels her agility was not impacted, effortlessly sidestepping her way past crafters and consumers alike, her layered skirt rustling gently with each hop.

    She had a goal in mind, and she was not going to be held up by anyone. A few weeks back she had requested a custom dress made by one of the finest elven tailors in the land, and today was the pickup day.

    Farandar’s Fine Fashions had set up shop opposite a jewellery stand, and the eponymous tailor had put Orianna’s new dress on display on a mannequin directly adjacent to their table, with an expertly painted sign reading “bespoke order – inquire today about getting yours!”, making some minor finishing touches to the lace work.

    “Goooooooood morning Farandar I hope you’re doing well today it is so busy today so I hope you are getting good business outside of me!”, Orianna said, as usual, barely taking a moment to breathe whilst she spoke.

    Farandar looked up, completely unfazed by the motor mouth tendencies of the young girl before him, greeting his regular customer with a smile. “Good afternoon Miss Orianna,” he said before walking round to face her properly, “as you can see, your new garment is ready and made to your exact specification.”

    The elf then moved back to behind his table and gestured towards the mannequin, “of course, feel free to inspect my craftsmanship!”.

    Orianna obliged, sending her eye over the outfit. The brief she had given was for something with flashy details but in an elegant black colour, the theme was completely left up to Farandar.

    The dress itself was of similar length to all of Orianna’s dresses, reaching down to just about her knees, but with plenty of material to wear a petticoat beneath to give the appropriate amount of volume. Across the full circumference of the skirt fabric were sewn in constellations, small clear gems shaped into stars and an enchanted thread linking them together to form the images.

    “This thread is-”, Farandar began, before duly being interrupted by Orianna.

    “Oh I know what this thread is I’ve seen it before in other shops it’s enchanted to respond to my movement so if I do a skirt swish or spin the constellations are gonna glow really bright?”

    The merchant quickly raised a finger with his mouth open, before lowering the former and closing the latter. Orianna began looking over the dress in more detail, taking in one sharp inhale ready to go over everything in one go with Farandar bracing himself.

    “Okay the bows on the hemline are really super duper cute and will look great in addition to the constellation effect I love the bow on the front of the waist with the stars on the side and then the stars going up the bodice almost like buttons is a surprisingly cute detail plus the back bow with extra constellations is even better and finally I love the ruffles on the straps they’re just a great topper to an amazing as usual dress!”

    (Author’s note: I spoke this sentence after I wrote it to ensure I would have been able to say it in character. I can… just.)

    She inhaled again after that before smiling sweetly at her tailor, handing over a bag of gold to complete the transaction, a little more than had been asked for but Orianna was always happy to pay for fine art. Farandar took the money, giving a slight bow before taking the dress behind his booth to box it up.

    “Excuse me,” a soft voice spoke up behind Orianna. Her rapid talking about her dress had attracted the attention of another elven crafter who had been standing at the jewellery stand opposite, who was now very intrigued by Orianna’s detail oriented nature.

    “Oh hi how can I help you-”, she said, turning around to face the source of the voice before quickly realising that it was a very cute high elf that was wanting to talk to her, which invariably caused her to become flustered, “oh my you are extremely pretty miss hi what do you want from me wow you look great.”

    The crafter laughed in response to this girl getting incredibly flustered, smiling warmly at her, saying, “I heard you talking about your dress and wanted to see who exactly was picking it up. Looks like it is someone as gorgeous as it is,” punctuating that last statement with a wink.

    Said wink caused Orianna to turn as red as her hair and go from rapid talking to rapid noise making. The elf stroked her cheek gently, shushing her softly. “Probably should not have opened with flirting given your initial response,” she said, keeping up her soft, welcoming smile, “my name is Eirina, Eirina Yalanek, nice to meet you…?”

    “Uhm uhm uhm uhmynameisOriannaduFioritisnicetomeetyouEirina,” Orianna rapidly said, continuing to be flustered even as the girl talking to her tried to take a softer approach. 

    Seeing that she was not going to calm down any time soon, Eirina took Orianna’s hand and guided her into the tent behind the stand was working at. Both of them sitting down on a bench, Eirina reached for a waterskin around her waist before searching deep in her bag for two granite mugs, filling both up with cool, refreshing water.

    “Drink up,” she said, handing one over to Orianna, “you spoke a lot and got quite red in the face out there.”

    Actually quite needing hydration right about now, Orianna polished off the mug before placing it down, saying, “yeah no sorry about that I kind of just really love girls and seeing someone as cute and beautiful as you caught me off guard.”

    Eirina pushed some flowing auburn hair behind her elegant ears as softly in response to the compliment, “you are really sweet… Orianna was it? I sort of heard that when you spoke but you did say a lot.”

    “Yeah my name is Orianna du Fior I got your name it’s Eirina Yalanek which is a very beautiful name I must say very fancy.”

    “You really do not stop with being lovely do you?”, Eirina said, feeling an intense warmth on her cheeks radiating outwards, “I guess I am not all that used to personal compliments.”

    Orianna’s mouth opened wide upon hearing Eirina say this, making random “wah” and “buh” noises as she tried to comprehend why this amazing person would not be showered with praise and affection near constantly.

    “Let me explain,” Eirina said, taking a small sip of her water before speaking further, “I have worked adjacent to artisans a lot, and I feel I am pretty good at it. But the dwarves and elves I sell my work to are often complimenting the work more than they are complimenting me… to hear someone compliment who I am so sincerely, it feels… it feels nice.”

    The elf reached her hand over to Orianna’s, wanting to hold it as they talked further. She took a moment of pause however, knowing that such an action could cause another flustered episode, so instead decided to ask, “may I hold your hand please?”

    Unsurprisingly, such a question did still trigger Orianna to become slightly flustered, but she was so infatuated in this moment that she nodded, becoming ever so slightly giddy once their hands touched. “These are nice gloves,” Eirina said, running her hand over the stitching, “is everything you wear so fine?”

    “Pretty much yeah,” Orianna said, somehow managing to not stumble over her words in spite feeling very nervous and fluttery right now, “I definitely like the finer things in life which certainly includes all of the clothes I like to wear and accessorising with my outfits is one of my favourite pastimes.”

    “Honestly that is kind of why I wanted to talk to you, never heard someone outside of artisan circles talk in so much detail about an outfit… it was both endearing and intriguing.”

    “Oh everything I wear is very detailed it helps me stand out in various scenarios and I grew up in a house that was very “seen and not heard” so making myself known by having the best look among others is fun you should come to my room sometime to see the rest of my-”.

    Orianna quickly realised what she was proposing to this person she had just met and developed an intense blush incredibly fast, looking away from them and stammering out the word “sorry” a lot. In response, Eirina cupped Orianna’s cheek gently to pull her face back around, giving her an enthusiastic smile and a soft nod.

    “I would love to see the clothes and accessories you have Orianna, maybe you could come to my place a couple days later to try some of my cooking too.”

    Stammering was replaced with a prolonged gasp, holding her hands to her mouth and looking up and down rapidly before she grabbed both of Eirina’s hands and said, “Oh my gosh that sounds absolutely amazing I’d love to do that with you!”.

    Eirina laughed before standing up to go over to one of her merchandise cases, tracing her fingers over various pieces of jewellery, grabbing a pair of earrings. “You can have these too,” she said, revealing them to Orianna, “I think they will go great with your new outfit”. The main body of the earring was in the shape of a four pointed star, dangling from a short chain on the hook itself with a blue teardrop-shaped gem hanging from the bottom of the star.

    Moved by this gesture, Orianna came close to tears, but was able to compose herself long enough to give her thanks for the beautiful, hand-crafted jewellery and give Eirina the details of where she needed to go for them to meet up whilst she put the earrings into a decorative box.

    The pair hugged. Orianna left the tent with a skip and a smile as she went back over to Farandar to collect her boxed up outfit, moving away a bit further from Eirina’s tent in order to have a freakout.

    “OH MY GOD I HAVE A DATE WITH A CUTE GIRL!”

    Inspiration

    So after the last Orianna story, I wanted to write something a bit softer. Bit more slice of life to play into the more chaotic/personal elements of Orianna’s character, so I decided to envision what the meeting between Eirina and Orianna would look like. I have to admit I find it fairly cute…

    …y’know, if I hadn’t already written the story where their relationship breakdown is the main narrative framing device.

    Regardless I wanted to give context to how these two met initially, and give more context on who Eirina is. After the initial Orianna story came out my DM wanted to know what race and class the ex-girlfriend had, presumably just for context and to potentially use her. I gave it as high elf and cleric respectively, and over time I started thinking more about who Eirina is as a character.

    She’s a Life Domain Cleric specifically, mainly because she is my backup character for the unlikely event Orianna dies cause I like playing Clerics to give more context to her healing Orianna when she came back from particularly nasty pit fights, but that is not her full class make up.

    I see her as having taken one of the Auxiliary Levels from Valda’s Spire of Secrets by Mage Hand Press, specifically the “Expert” level. It would make sense that an expert artisan would be drawn to someone who enjoys bespoke products with large amounts of detail… plus I didn’t want to have her behind on Spellcasting levels and this specifically gives that.

    I realise that writing all of this down is just giving my DM even more fuel for when they eventually decide to deploy Eirina against me, but oh well, it’ll be fun roleplaying out the sheer awkwardness of these two reuniting in less than ideal circumstances.

  • Orianna’s Origin

    (Approximate story word count: 1800 words. Estimated reading time: 18 minutes.)

    There once was a girl.

    A girl lived with her noble family in Waterdeep. It was a very minor noble house, but nonetheless the patriarch of the family was very concerned with keeping up appearances amongst other noble families, to not besmirch their good name. This meant everyone in the family had to look, behave, and act in a way that fit in.

    A girl did not like that very much.

    A girl was asked to do many things. These things included attending all sorts of classes on noble life, from which of the thirty-three forks needed to be used in each given situation, to the simple act of writing polite correspondence in elegant cursive writing. Everything expected of a respectful noble.

    A girl very rarely enjoyed these things.

    A girl often grew unfocused. Long hours of sitting at a desk numbed the mind, not aided by the droning voice of the even fancier noble teachers that had been brought in to conduct these lessons. Mealtimes helped to break the monotony, but it was only the briefest of respites until she had to return to her lessons, not helped by the clothes she had to wear.

    A girl felt uncomfortable in such outfits.

    A girl did have some positive moments. All nobles were expected to be able to hold their own in combat if needed, whether it was fending off a highway ambush from opportunistic muggers or taking part in friendly duels between other nobles. She excelled in a combat focused environment, whilst her brothers and sisters struggled.

    A girl had found something to thrive in.

    A girl was nonetheless reprimanded. Her father argued that she was not taking her studies seriously, disregarding what they had taught her about keeping up appearances and instead “choosing the life of a brute” by solely focusing on her combat training. They were happy she was able to actually focus on something, but “an heir needs to be a well-rounded man”.

    A girl sighed as she heard those words.

    A girl struggled to reconcile who she was with who she needed to be. She was the eldest child of this family, and so was being groomed as the heir to the father’s fortune, which meant she was thrust into even more classes to try realign her trajectory with what was expected of her. The only new one of these that struck a chord was the dance class, but even then that left further questions.

    A girl yearned to be someone else.

    A girl knew who she really wanted to be. In art classes when teachers were not looking, she would create doodles of herself in divine dresses, adorable accessories, and stylish shoes. In dance classes she would close her eyes and imagine herself not in a stuffy outfit, instead envisioning a massive ball gown which drifted across the reflective floor effortlessly. But all the same, she continued to excel in her combat abilities.

    A girl was about to encounter difficulty.

    A girl was confronted by her father. They were outraged, pulling out piles of parchment covered in the doodles she had made, asking what he did to deserve this kind of treatment. He brought up that her movements in dance classes were unbecoming of a noble gentleman, and could lead to other houses perceiving weakness on their part. Combat classes were now also suspended, as no available teacher was willing to spar with her anymore.

    A girl was ordered to stay home to think about her actions.

    A girl did not really feel like listening anymore. In the dead of night, she used her expert dexterity to sneak through the house, dodging servants on patrol in order to sneak into one of her sister’s rooms. She scanned the wardrobe and was able to construct an outfit that she had once doodled, putting it on and feeling like she existed for the first time in forever.

    A girl had not yet finished though.

    A girl snuck through to the master bedroom. Despite now wearing high heels she was able to move in such a way that minimised the clicks and clacks. Above the door of the master bedroom were two ancestral cutlasses, weapons that suited her more rapid fighting style with dual-wielding coming almost naturally to her.

    A girl stole the swords.

    A girl left the house. She wandered out into town, not particularly looking for anything. In fact the act of just walking around in her stolen outfit was giving her an insane amount of satisfaction, no one was reacting to her, all the things she was told by her father about looking out of place were lies. People were reacting like she was just an average adventurer.

    A girl felt very comfortable in her situation.

    A girl noticed a sign. It was an extremely brightly coloured sign, magical lights highlighting each main word in the venue title. “Kinky Kylie’s Kalamatious Kombat” was the headline, with “Fight pit here tonight – winner takes all: thirty platinum and a bottle of fine wine” as the subheading. In extremely small text was “Cleric fees still apply. Clerics reserve the right to steal your wallet”.

    A girl was intrigued by this prospect.

    A girl walked into the building filled with anticipation. The atmosphere was completely different from any situation she had been in before, surrounded by all sorts of sights, smells, and sounds. A far cry from the stuffy noble meetings she was used to, especially upon seeing the risque leather outfit that the tiefling running this event was wearing.

    A girl suddenly felt very flustered.

    A girl approached the tiefling. She was the eponymous “Kylie” of this event and was running the registration. Her eyes scanned the girl in front of her up and down, feeling pretty convinced about the weapons the girl was carrying, but also having doubts about her lack of armour and the… somewhat impractical footwear.

    A girl asked the tiefling nicely whilst stuttering some words.

    A girl was then allowed into the tournament. Every other participant had their doubts about her ability, some scoffed about the idea of such a delicate flower being let into such a tournament, whilst others tried to gauge what kind of lie she told to get past Kylie’s checks. It was not long before the tournament began.

    A girl was up first.

    A girl was due to fight a druid. As the druid entered the arena, the entire crowd loudly cheered them on, whilst a much more subdued reaction was given for the girl. Some even laughed, muttering about how they would not last ten seconds. The announcement to start the fight rang out, and the druid changed into a wolf before launching forward.

    A girl did not hesitate to stand her ground.

    A girl dodged out of the way effortlessly. Before the wolf could even turn around to launch another attack the girl had delivered two swift blows to them, forcing them to revert to their humanoid form. The crowd uttered shocked gasps that this was even possible, and the druid struggled to comprehend what had happened, quickly shifting back into a panther.

    A girl was ready for the next strike.

    A girl was pounced at by the panther. The attack came close to connecting but just as the massive paws of the beast were able to hit into her, she ducked down to avoid the brunt of the claws, using her advanced dexterity to guide the panther over her before delivering two slashes to its underbelly, once more causing them to shift back.

    A girl fully had the upper hand now.

    A girl was in her element. Some of the shock in the crowd had subsided and now some of them were cheering for this surprise underdog, putting the druid off kilter. With no energy left to change into an animal, they took out their staff and infused it with druidic might, hoping to take down their opponent that way.

    A girl was not afraid.

    A girl dodged all the attempts to strike her down. Effortlessly moving aside before launching counterattacks with ease, leaving her opponent bloodied before eventually rendering them unconscious. The audience were left in shock. Kylie was left struggling for words.

    A girl felt alive.

    A girl progressed through the rest of the tournament with very few obstacles. Any opponent she faced quickly fell to her agile fighting style, even spellcasters struggled against her fluid motions. The final match came, and the final match ended as all others that evening had.

    A girl had won it all.

    A girl greeted Kylie outside of the pit. The tiefling could be seen holding back some begrudged patrons with the threat of an extremely powerful spell, not caring that they had lost their bets due to this surprise underdog, actually having quite enjoyed the spectacle herself. Once they had finally left, she presented the prizes, making idle chatter as she did.

    A girl continued to be flustered by them.

    A girl was wished on her way. It was the early hours of the morning when she came out of the venue, and she began to make her way home. She had hoped that she would be able to sneak back in without much effort and then just work out a plan for returning the items she had “borrowed”.

    A girl was not afforded that luxury.

    A girl was greeted by her father at the door. He was trembling with rage, shouting curses and insults at the top of his voice, seemingly forgetting his own words about keeping up appearances in order to express how he felt in this situation. He made various threats about revoking noble titles and potential house arrest.

    A girl had decided enough was enough.

    A girl slammed the crossguard of the cutlass into her father’s nose. Shattering bone and producing an eruption of blood, he collapsed to the floor moaning and writhing in pain.

    A girl did not look back.

    A girl began to walk away from everything she had ever known. She had found she was pretty good at fighting for a living, and with such a generous champion’s payment to begin her new life, she knew she could finally live as herself. Plus the name she had provided to enter the tournament had grown on her.

    Their name was Orianna, and she knew exactly who she wanted to be.

    Inspiration

    This one is definitely a bit more experimental than I have done in the past, especially with how every paragraph, bar the first and final one, start with the same two words. And even then, the first and final sentences (sort of) share the same first word, giving a sort of pleasing cyclical-ness to everything.

    There’s a fair amount to unpack with this story. Parental pressure, living with (undiagnosed) ADHD, finding something you excel in only to be told not to focus on it, the realisation of being transgender, struggling to find yourself whilst being expected to be someone you’re not, breaking out of your shell for the first time, dealing with the consequences of that, and finally choosing to live your unconditional truth.

    God even writing out that list of themes left me a bit overwhelmed. Especially as a lot of them are me drawing, somewhat exaggerated, parallels from my own situation and how I have evolved.

    Specifically on the “choosing to live your unconditional truth” front, as my moving out has allowed me to experience life as my own person for the first time in forever, and with this several avenues of opportunity have opened up for me.

    Having written both her origin story and her introduction story, I have a clearer picture of where Orianna’s story can go from here. Not to mean that there won’t be anymore silly slice-of-life pieces about her wanting ice cream or doing a kobold’s makeup, but I feel there’s definitely space to advance Orianna in some deeper stories.

  • Honesty’s Courage

    (Approximate story word count: 1500 words. Estimated reading time: 15 minutes.)

    Honesty did not know the intricacies of the realm of steam.

    Honesty did not know the details of whether they were alive or dead right now.

    Honesty could not actually bring themselves to care much about either of these points. To him, his friend was in danger somehow, and that meant he had to be strong to bring her back from the brink. Seeing Marieya shoot by above the party when they first awoke had filled him with a determination to move forward.

    The first challenge presented by the realm pushed some of the party to their limits, with Grem having a fair few issues with getting their attacks to land properly, potentially adjusting to the fact they genuinely did die before appearing in this realm. With the help of a steam shade in the shape of Marieya’s old friend Izumi, the group of undead phoenix knights were dispatched.

    As the party advanced past the manifestation of Donnermark, the landscape began to change. From the forests and city-like buildings slowly shifted to a more open feel, the surrounding buildings appearing suitable for a village and the environment becoming more like coastland. For all the party minus Grem, they knew what they were approaching.

    The Beach of Thorns was on the horizon.

    Various painful memories resurfaced for Jørgen, Fauna, and in particular Honesty. For the former two, this was the place where a quest ended in futility as their efforts to bring back their companion failed due to circumstances out of their control. For the latter, it was a painful reminder of a life left behind, a message sent from a long-time rival, and a final farewell with no chance to say what was left unspoken.

    Fauna came close to Honesty, kneeling down slightly to be able to rub him on the back. “Are you doing okay?”, she said, her tone aiming to try to reassure her friend, “it must be hard coming back here, even if it isn’t really real.”

    “It’s real to me,” Honesty said, nervously fiddling with one of the rings on his hand, “but I can’t stop. Marieya needs me.”

    The town had taken on an appearance almost akin to having a tsunami hit. Houses looked damp and water-logged, with doors and windows ripped off their hinges, significant rotting on the wooden frames, and furniture either tipped over or annihilated completely. True to the mind that created it, everything was in a state of disrepair.

    This was especially true for the foe that party had fought in this area, an apparatus of the crab. Used by Honesty’s rival Cunning to try to take the unanimated body of Vantar back to Zobeck in exchange for a generous bounty, the fearsome war machine laid in various pieces but everyone was still on edge of what this realm could produce.

    Everyone approached it with caution, ready for any attack it might launch. A loud bang rung out through the deserted town, but it did not come from the apparatus, it instead came from the distance. A glowing, diant projectile had been sent flying through the air and landed right into the middle of the apparatus’s remains, immolating it completely.

    “Well, well, well,” a malicious, booming voice said, a metallic twang echoing with each syllable, “looks like the cowardly kobold came back to the scene of his friend’s failure.”

    A figure appeared from the steam, and the entire party gasped. Honesty came close to dropping his weapons in sheer shock at what he was seeing.

    It seemed to be… Vantar? But they were not the same as they were before. The influence of the phoenix had seemed to corrupt their image, more steam-powered pistons seemed to make up their body, some of them burning red hot with malicious energy. Additionally, two large mortars had been attached to their back, capable of firing projectiles infused with divine energy.

    “Honesty… you always chased a cause long after it had been lost,” Vantar said, facing down their former travelling companion, “why do you follow a girl who failed to save me? Why do you choose being a coward over standing for yourself?”

    “I… you… see…”, Honesty said, stuttering over their words before sighing deeply, looking down at the ground, “it wasn’t her fault you died, she tried her best… it was mine… I could have done more…”.

    A clattering of steam pistons attempted to form a sound of disgust in Vantar’s throat, almost sounding like a scoff, saying, “even now you try to defend her. If I have to force you to face me, I will.”

    With those words Honesty felt himself being dragged forwards towards Vantar, an almost irresistible force of magic compelling him to fight this twisted apparition of their former friend despite every ounce of his body telling him not to… this was until Jørgen slashed their palm through the air with vigour, dispelling the magic with a Northern curse.

    “How cute,” the steamforged illusion said, “even here you put your friends at risk because of your own failings – witness what happens to those who interfere!”.

    The firing cylinders on the mortars rotated and then locked into place, a steam piston launching the round into the air with the intent of nailing Jørgen with a direct hit. However, the phoenix had made a slight oversight when creating this challenge from Marieya’s mind: Vantar did not have the skills required to operate such a weapon, and when aiming at a nonstationary target such as a wizard, the shot went completely wide.

    With their focus drawn elsewhere, Grem charged the illusion, inflicting some serious damage with his greatsword, whilst Fauna and Izumi ran close to Honesty to offer comfort.

    “Don’t listen to him,” Fauna said, casting a simple spell of defence around the kobold as she crouched down next to him, “we all know you loved Vantar deeply, and did everything you could to save him. None of us think you’re a coward, in fact we all think you are incredibly strong for making it this far.”

    “I’d put a fucking sock in this twat’s mouth if I could,” Izumi said, taking a much more blunt approach to the situation, “I know that you know that’s bullshit, but I also know how Marieya felt after this. She was torn up inside that she couldn’t do more, and she wanted nothing more than to comfort you after it happened.”

    Honesty was still trembling with fear, but had managed to retain a grip on their weapons. The words of this conjured foe had come close to breaking him, but he heard the words of his allies louder, and images of the true Marieya passed through in his mind.

    Her sheepish smile whenever she said something silly.

    Her determination in the face of adversity.

    How she would have done anything to make sure Honesty was okay.

    He stood up from the embrace of his friends, and walked forward with rapier in hand. “You’re lying to me,” he said, reaching his opponent and staring him down, “I am not a coward. Marieya is my friend. And I’m saving her from this hellhole even if I have to strike you down!”.

    The kobold lunged forward with their rapier, the world around its tip seeming to distort slightly as if an almost cosmic force was helping to propel it forward. Vantar’s heavy armour plating around their chest was torn asunder, reinforced metal being turned into shards and shavings as the blade kept going. Piercing through internal systems before stabbing all the way through the corrupted soul gem that was powering them.

    Systems and springs exploded as the source of their locomotion was destroyed, parts of their body falling off until they were reduced to their base skeleton, falling to their knees to bring them eye level with Honesty. 

    With the phoenix’s influence severed and their strength weakening, they only managed to say a short phrase, “Hon.. es… ty… proud… of… you…”, before collapsing to the ground entirely, quickly dissipating back into steam from which it was created.

    The trial completed, the path to the next area revealed itself. Izumi stated they could go no further, mentioning about how they were the first one to go. In typical fashion she wished the party well, urging them to save Marieya and asking them to remind her she has a lot else she is good at.

    In the distance the phoenix in control of Marieya’s body watched over these events, feeling their grip on her weakening as her meddlesome friends kept trying to prove why they were coming to save her. They could not keep this up through other challenges, eventually their will would be broken.

    The phoenix was about to receive several rude awakenings.

    Inspiration

    Little bit of a different take on the usual Midgard campaign, now taking on the viewpoint of our Kobold Rogue, Honesty.

    When this campaign first started, Honesty had a travelling companion in the form of a Gearforged Kobold Paladin named Vantar. Due to some unfortunate luck they died early on in the campaign, forming the focus of the party as we worked to revive them, which was a successful endeavour. Their player decided to leave the group shortly after this point, leading to a change of direction and Vantar staying dead for…

    …no, you sent a message to your boyfriend to get a silly picture for an article.

    However, as I was sitting down with my DM for this game plotting out the various stations of the realm of steam, a vicious and diabolical idea came to me. The Beach of Thorns was a plot critical moment for Honesty, but it also carried mental consequences for Marieya, as she realised she had lost yet another person associated with her, and took that quite heavily.

    So, when mixed with the warping influence of the uncaged phoenix soul, this incident took the shape of a steam-twisted Vantar, hell bent on attempting to break Honesty’s will and perception of Marieya.

    Unsurprisingly, this failed completely.

    Out of the three areas I had responsibility for running in the realm of steam, this one was probably the one I doubted myself the most on in the moment. Especially as I feel I severely underestimated how quick the party would be able to dispatch Vantar with several methods of attack.

    However, this underestimation lead to quite an amazing moment which I feel translated well into the story. Honesty had locked up for a round because of the taunts from Vantar, the compelled duel being counterspelled. Vantar was bloodied at the start of Honesty’s turn but a critical hit followed by a critical sneak attack put them on somewhere in the region of ten hitpoints, so I decided to end the fight there on a climatic moment like that.

    A personal aside… revisiting the realm of steam for another story, even from the perspective of another, still puts me into a very emotional frame of mind to write in. 

    As part of scrolling back through Discord chat logs as research, I encountered the inciting incident that set this all off, Marieya’s death at the hands of a breath weapon. In that moment everything came flooding back to how I felt that night, vivid memories of what was done and said as real as the day they were created. 

    Even with having Marieya back now, I can safely say this changed my outlook on the game completely, and I’m somewhat curious to explore this frame of mind more in one or two more realm of steam stories.

  • Orianna’s Crisis

    (Approximate story word count: 1300 words. Estimated reading time: 13 minutes.)

    A meeting with a merchant and a panicked conversation about relationships were the only standout moments from a day of ultimately boring travel, and as the four beautiful women, their kobold, and their guides settled down for the night, an order of watches was determined. 

    Juliet had gone first, and the watch was uneventful.

    Seb and Valzin went next, and the watch was uneventful.

    Orianna was awoken for her watch, shocking the life out of Seb in process as she bolted upright, shouting, “I’m here I’m awake I promise I wasn’t going to oversleep!”

    “Alright girl, I get it! Don’t need to dart around like that… I’m gonna go to sleep”, Seb said in response, before collapsing onto their bedroll. Orianna stood up and brushed herself down before wandering off to the main viewpoint down and around the tunnel.

    It did not take long for Orianna to lose her focus however. Her eyes glazed over as she paced aimlessly across her designated path, sometimes looking up trying to see if anything was directly coming at her and sometimes going to idly look at her hands, examining them closely and…

    …wait?

    No.

    It can’t be.

    “WHATDOYOUMEANIVEBROKENANAILWHILSTIVEBEENDOWNHEREOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHNOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!”

    Orianna had indeed broken a nail. A manicure that had taken almost three hours of work with layering different kinds of white polish, adding a layer of silver glitter polish on top before finally decorating the tips with three small clear gemstones. A perfect work of nail art, that had been somehow cracked during combat.

    “It’s alright it’s alright it’s alright I can fix this my glove has kept it somewhat in shape if I just take it off and-”, upon taking off her glove, Orianna saw the damage was much greater than initially thought, the nail was almost completely snapped off, the initial break itself at a weird angle.

    “Ohhhhhhh come on I can’t even glue this back together with how it comes off!”, she said, continuing to panic before running back over to her backpack to look for nail clippers, “Waterskin… bedroll… cutlery… makeup… brushes… makeup… brushes… where the hell are they?!”

    The backpack was completely emptied, but no nail clippers were found. Orianna racked her brain to think of where they might be, before having an epiphany.

    They were in a drawer in her side table, next to the letter from Eirina. She had somehow forgotten to pack them.

    “Oh you have got to be kidding me how could I forget those okay admittedly I forgot a lot of things but nail clippers are important!”, she said, taking sharper and sharper breaths, bordering on hyperventilation as she tried to figure out a solution to her problem.

    She reached down to the thin, sharp, delicate blades tucked into her garters, fully contemplating using one of them to slice off the errant nail, before realising she had a better tool. One of her edged cards would provide an even thinner tool to try to make the cut.

    In a rare occasion, Orianna held her breath as she used the card to slice the nail off, letting everything out in one relieved exhale as she managed to-

    “OHCOMEONIHELDMYBREATHWHYDIDYOUNOTCUTSTRAIGHT?!”

    -make a complete hack job of it.

    It was a quick dash back to her backpack to go find a nail file to try straighten out her improvised, but nonetheless shoddy, handiwork. She looked through all of her brush bags and makeup cases, but there she had no files.

    “Okay how could I have forgotten those too theyyyyyyy are not kept with brushes so I completely blanked on picking them up when packing my bag okay that’s on me…”, she said, pondering about using her rapiers as a sort of radial file until an… interesting tool choice came to mind.

    Whilst not a tool for physical beauty, a whetstone was sort of like a nail file. It was not, but to Orianna’s panicked mind it would fulfil a purpose, using the utmost of her dexterity to try to reshape the nail to make it look less out of place until she could get a proper manicure. And whilst the nail was now tidier, it still looked out of place.

    The worried words had now just become a sequence of stressed sounds and meaningless mumbles as Orianna considered her next move.

    She thought about hunting the merchant down again and asking to buy some soft leather gloves rather than the lace ones she was wearing, she considered just leaving it and praying that none of the gorgeous, beautiful, absolutely divine women in the group would just not notice it. In her panic, a stupid idea manifested into her head.

    “If I cut off the other nail on my other hand and try tidy that one up I could blag it as it being a feature nail of sorts and that’s why it’s shorter to give more highlight to the other gemstones on my other fingers saying it out loud it sounds kind of stupid but I need to do something!”

    Reaching for another edged card, she had to make more delicate deliberate slices, both to make an initial cut into the nail and then to try match the roughshod appearance of the original nail. All the while she was making panicked noises, and had now begun to cry, attracting the attention of a meditating Lorelei Shadowhand.

    The drow sorcerer had proved herself a worthy combatant, and a useful source of knowledge on politics & customs down in the Underdark, especially pertinent when interrogating others of her type. Using her telepathic abilities, she spoke directly to Orianna’s mind. “I can hear you crying,” she said, “come over and show me what’s wrong.”

    Yelping slightly at hearing the calm, dulcet tones of Lorelei’s voice directly in her head, Orianna shuffled over gently to show the focus of her concerns. Lorelei’s face was unfazed at the situation she had found herself in, but a gentle raise of her eyebrow showed she was quite shocked at the steps Orianna had taken.

    Mentally running through the spells she was capable of, Lorelei tried to think of a solution. Conjuring her shadow hound to retrieve some nail supplies could have been an option, but finding any in range meant it was a no go. Casting an illusion to give the appearance of complete nails had the potential to work, but given the illusions were static it would not have kept appearances up for long.

    Eventually, a temporary solution was reached. Muttering some words of power and performing complex gestures, Lorelei turned Orianna invisible so as to make her messed up nails invisible. Admittedly this was not a permanent fix, but it would keep her calm enough until morning where they could think of a better plan.

    “Oh my god thank you so much Lorelei this helps hide things so much and-OHCRAPICANTSEEMYLEGSNOW!”, Orianna said, finding a new reason to panic.

    “Yes Orianna,” Lorelei said, sighing ever so slightly, “that’s because I had to make all of you invisible.”

    “Oh right sorry yeah that makes sense anyway you can go back to thinking about whatever elves think about in their weird sleep but not sleep thing I’m gonna go back on watch okay bye love you thanks.”

    As Orianna bounded off, the sound of her heels clicking giving away her position even when invisible, Lorelei shook her head gently, “capable of felling foes triple her size, and yet she breaks at the most minor of personal problems…”

    The rest of the watch was uneventful, giving Orianna plenty of time to consider what her next manicure should look like. Maybe purple with black gemstones to match the vibe of the Underdark better.

    Inspiration

    In order: trying not to panic, trying to find nail clippers, trying to remember where nail clippers are, first nail cut, trying to find a nail file, using a whetstone instead, cutting off the other nail

    Look to your right. All of those checks are the result of roleplaying out Orianna having broken a nail whilst in the Underdark. As usual with taking watches, I was asked to make a Perception check to see if I saw anything whilst on watch.

    Not being the most perceptive type to begin with, this was made even worse by Nat 1-ing the check, which lead to the hilarious chain of events of figuring out how Orianna would react to having a broken nail she could not fix properly due to lacking the correct tools.

    Any reasonable person would have asked around the party to see if anyone had the right equipment.

    Orianna is not reasonable. Orianna is an overthinker who panics easily outside of combat, meaning she’s more likely to take a rash course of action using whatever tools she had on hand to try fix the problem, invariably making it worse.

    This did not take much effort to roleplay. I am someone who reveres my own nails. I absolutely love keeping my nails long and layering polish on late at night during a film or a D&D game to create the perfect manicure. And whilst I might not have the same reactions as Orianna, I do feel an intense moment of sadness when I realise one of them has broken.

    As an aside, it is a very nice change of pace to be able to write slice-of-life stuff for my characters, especially for someone like Orianna. Her introduction story was incredibly heavy which will be important for how she develops, but I feel an equal measure of joy in writing her calmer moments, being able to use the fact she is incredibly young and naive to my advantage in these pieces.

    And if more roleplay moments like this come up? Well, the stories basically write themselves at that point.

  • Orianna’s Expression

    (Approximate story word count: 1500 words. Estimated reading time: 15 minutes)

    No challenge seemed to faze the vanguard expedition into the Underdark. A collection of Magmin were dispatched with relative ease, a pack of Gricks fell in succession to a mix of fire and steel, and a Drow hunting party quickly found that these trespassers were not simply wayward tourists.

    Advancing further into the depths, the party and their guides decided to take a short break, more to catch their breath than heal any wounds. In this brief moment of a calm, Orianna du Fior took a moment to enjoy a passtime she had not partook in for a while: drawing.

    However, Juliet Alderbrand lurked around the young fighter, trying to see what she was doing.

    “Hey Dartfly,” she said, sidling up close. She had removed her armour and was wearing a simple red dress shirt with a somewhat deep V-neck, her blonde hair still mussed and matted from the amount of sweat her own fiery fighting style produced, “whatcha got there?”

    “Nothing!”, Orianna said, holding the paper close to her chest, “I’m not doing anything at all nope nothing suspicious going on here you can go now!”. 

    “Uh huh… hey Orianna… boobs!”

    “WHAT WHERE?!”

    In that brief moment of distraction Juliet managed to grab the piece of paper off of her, “on one hand, could kill us all, on the other, so easily distracted…” 

    She looked closely, furrowing her brow slightly as she took in what was drawn on it. “It’s… us? Crudely drawn I admit… well, tell a lie you’ve captured me perfectly but yeah this is a bit like a child’s drawing.”

    Orianna flushed as red as her dress, nervously stammering out her words. “W-well yeah it’s supposed to be everyone here,” she said, fiddling with some lace detailing, “but yeah I’m not so good at drawing my parents tried to teach me but it never went well.”

    “Parents, huh? What kind of people raised a hyperactive wind of destruction like you?”

    “The kind that left you estranged at age fifteen after not living up to their expectations.”

    An awkward silence descended between the two, Juliet realising that she might have made the conversation weird, before Orianna chimed in again. “Sorry that might have came off a bit heavy it wasn’t them it was me choosing to live life on my own terms.”

    “Oh phew,” Juliet said with a sigh, looking relieved that she had not brought up painful memories, “still, kinda sucks you had folks like that.”

    “Comes with originally being a noble I gu-”

    “FUCKING KNEW IT!”, Juliet said with glee before knowing she had made the conversation weird now, “…sorry, carry on?”

    “As I was saying yeah I was originally born a noble but it was never the life for me,” Orianna said, anxiously crossing and uncrossing her fingers, “all these lessons on art music board games deportment and all other uptight stuff just never get through to me I always found it hard to focus.”

    “Nobles get taught how to fight though, so you must’ve picked up something.”

    “Oh yeah I got taught how to fight it was one of the few things I was actually good at although my trainers… and my brothers… and other male family members were always taken aback at how well I fought.”

    “Probably shocked how someone like you could kick so much ass, given your size and style.”

    “Didn’t dress anywhere close to this back then the whole family heavily disapproved of my ‘radical and unbecoming’ life choices as they called it or ‘inappropriate behaviour for an heir’ later on.”

    Juliet went wide-eyed for a moment, learning so much about her travelling companion in a single sentence. “So uhm…”, she said, trying to figure out where to go from that point, “what happened in the end to push you out the door?”

    “Stole some stuff from one of my sister’s wardrobes stole some ancestral weapons to enter into a pit fight,” Orianna said, using her hands to act out charades of each point, “won the entire thing obviously but then I got home and my dad was pretty mad so with the money I had won that night I knew I could survive by myself for a while leading to me telling him where to shove his noble lifestyle before shattering his nose with the crossguard of the sword I took.”

    There was no hesitation in Juliet’s next action, which was to pull Orianna into a close, tight hug whilst she said, “I’m so proud of you”. Orianna on the other hand became extremely flustered in short order, making random “ah” and “buh” sounds as her arms quivered in an attempt to reciprocate the gesture.

    Juliet broke off, smirking to herself as she watched the elegant fighter continue to try to process what just happened. After she had calmed down, Juliet took a moment to think before saying, “suppose I should share my situation. Y’know we’re not actually that different thinking about it.”

    “We aren’t?”, Orianna said, intensely curious about what her companion meant by that.

    “Obviously different strokes for different folks but my parental relationship wasn’t the best either. ‘Oh Juliet you must calm down’, ‘Oh Juliet don’t use such crude language’, ‘Juliet burning down someone’s house is no way to get a husband’. It was near fucking constant.”

    Orianna took a rare moment of pause, before reaching into her backpack to grab a hairbrush. True to her style it was an ornate tool, cut from a single piece of marble. 

    She shuffled over to Juliet gently and went to try to work out the knots in her hair, an act that was met with resistance. “Oh no, no!”, Juliet said, gently pushing against Orianna, “you’ll just pull at my hair and make it worse.”

    In response Orianna ran her fingers through her own fiery locks with a reassuring smile, saying, “You have seen my hair right this stuff is smooth and silky whilst I can’t give you a full wash I can at least tidy things up”. 

    Juliet huffed slightly still before letting Orianna start to brush things out, slightly exaggerating how much certain strokes were pulling against her scalp until settling into the sensation. “So how did your situation end up changing for yourself then?”, Orianna asked as she worked.

    “Same as you, Dartfly,” Juliet said, wincing slightly as one knot took quite a bit of work to get through, “eventually got tired of hearing bullshit every day and walked out the door to never look back. Fell into more stable work than you did, which is how I met Seb.”

    “You two do seem quite close and like you have been through a lot with the way you talk about past adventures.”

    “Oh definitely, we’ve both caused our fair share of trouble and-hey, hey take it easy with that bit!”, Juliet said, interrupting her own thought to tell Orianna off, continuing to baffle the poor girl that someone who fights at their very limit is made uncomfortable by simple grooming, before continuing her sentence.

    “Despite this, Seb and I have stuck together through thick and thin. Always good to have someone who compliments you perfectly to get you out of tough spots right?”

    “I, uhm, yeah…”, Orianna said as she finished her work, her hand trembling slightly as she thought about the person who matched that description for her, “a-anyway I’m done, sorry if I hurt you or anything.”

    An incredulous chuckle was the response to this statement, Juliet saying, “I put up a fight cause I hate this crap, not cause it hurts. But if it makes you happy, then I guess it’s alright.”

    Juliet went to hand back the picture, with Orianna placing it back on the rock she was using as a support, continuing her work. “…actually I do have a favour to ask in return, if you don’t mind,” Juliet said.

    “Go on?”

    “Can you add some more fire scribbles to mine? Seb is perfect but I feel I need more for mine to be truly accurate.”

    Inspiration

    So as part of Orianna’s latest session, she ended up getting some +2 studded leather armour. Ignoring the fact this has continued her theme of being a near unstoppable killing machine, it presented me with a random impulse to draw Orianna trying on her new armour. 

    However, considering I have very little artistic skill and was doing this in Paint, it obviously did not turn out the most realistic looking. It did give me a new source of inspiration though: Orianna likes to draw but acknowledges she is not that good at it. This also allowed me to introduce a bit more of her backstory from even before her initial piece.

    Canonically, Orianna has some form of ADHD. The way this is intended to be portrayed is that her previous noble family tried to put her through classes for all the things that nobles are typically expected to take part in, but Orianna was never able to focus properly on them.

    She still enjoys some of the things she was exposed to, but she never had the focus to practice them in an educational environment. And her fighting lessons were obviously where she excelled, for the reason of fights often moving so fast that she did not have time to lose focus she could, for the first time in her life, excel at something.

    That said, it was not a case of her not enjoying the other activities she was presented with. It was more the environment and expectations that produced her feelings of dissatisfaction. Hence, when presented with an opportunity to create something without expectation and is actually encouraged by someone else, there is a swell of positive emotion and enjoyment in something that once had negative connotations.

    Plus it is kind of fun to just draw silly little things about the game going on in front of me, and having it be semi in character just adds a bit of flavour to the drawings.

  • Marieya’s Tutelage

    (Story word count: approximately 1500 words. Estimated reading time: 15 minutes)

    “So, for you see, sorcery can be seen as exploration. Those with innate magical powers push their own boundaries and are able to produce such incredible spells, some of which even the most astute arcane scholars would never be able to replicate themselves.”

    “But that is where the study of the arcane comes in, and acts more like cartography. They observe what the sorcerers have done and work tirelessly to not only figure out the how and why of where this magic came from, but to record it for preservation and to advance their own research.”

    Jørgen Brúnison smiled warmly at the very eloquent explanation between innate magic and learned magic, having hoped it assuaged Marieya’s concerns about how her phoenix soul influenced things… but having looked over and seeing the rather perplexed face his companion was making, he decided now was a good moment to excuse themselves.

    “Thank you though,” he said, “whilst the explanation will take some time to sink in for her, I appreciate such a thoughtful analogy”. The wizards exchanged bows, as Marieya’s awareness caught up with her, fumbling out a few words of thanks before offering a slightly messy bow herself before making a retreat with Jørgen.

    Whilst the wizard had been brought to much warmer territory than the Northlands, they still dressed in clothes suitable for such environments. A thick brown fur shawl encompassed his shoulders, with a woollen tunic covering down from the chest to the mid-thigh area. Beneath all these though were navy-coloured winter underclothes, ensuring complete insulation from the elements. 

    Both his gauntlets and boots were lined with similar fur to his shawl, with thick leather gloves completing the ensemble. A lustrous beard and long, but managed, hair gave Jørgen an aura of maturity that had helped the party along in many areas, especially when navigating Marieya’s somewhat anxious approach to life.

    The pair navigated their way to a quiet study area. Only one other person was there, and they seemed more focused, or rather, stressed, about the large textbook in front of them, so the two picked a table with some distance from that individual and sat down for a chat.

    “My apologies if putting you on the spot about the demiplane made you nervous,” Jørgen said, “you did handle it well all things considered. I just thought she would have found it interesting.”

    “Mharoti’s teach you to be good at improvising slash lying,” Marieya said in response, laughing slightly at her own observation, “plus she found it interesting… sorry for making assumptions of why you’d came here too.”

    “It is quite alright. Although it was quite disarming to hear something so different from you.”

    “I try not to speak about what I don’t know a lot about. Both colleges and relationships fall into that category. The former for being rejected from every magical organisation in the Shadow Realm, and the latter for… y’know.”

    “I understand your lost friends, but do you have any connections beyond that? Any siblings or family?”

    Marieya looked down at the table, slightly forlorn. “No, nothing of the sort that I can remember,” she said, sighing slightly, “guess I’ve always been sort of a loner.”

    “I see… it is just that in your nervous disposition around strangers yet fierce-”, Jørgen paused, backtracking his last word before continuing, “fiery dedication to those you care about, it reminds me of my little sister.”

    “You have a sister?”, Marieya said, looking up from the table with curiosity, “I guess they’re back home in the Northlands.”

    “There are four of us in total. Myself, my younger sister, an older sister, and an older brother. She was the youngest of us, and always tended to hide behind one of us… unless of course one of us got into trouble, then I feel she would be capable of staring down Ragnarök and telling it to go home!”

    The two friends shared a laugh at that idea, of this young girl staring down the literal apocalypse and going “no thank you” to it. “I remember a time like that for me,” Marieya said, wiping a joyous tear from her eye, “I’ve both calmed down and reignited my own flame, so I can relate in a way. What kind of work does she follow?”

    “Volunteered at a local shrine, dedicated to the twin goddesses. She must be close to her coming of age now, she was learning to read and write beautifully as part of her work.”

    “And I guess they’re all awaiting the return of their most scholarly sibling?”

    Jørgen tensed his fingers nervously before wrapping them around each other, seemingly in the unusual position of being lost for words before finally saying, “I hope no one is waiting on me. It had not felt like home for quite some time before I departed on my journey… whenever I think of what I know as home though, I pray for their safety.”

    A silence descended between the two for some time, neither knowing properly what to say. Marieya bit her lip gently before speaking again, “…I’m glad you’re lonely too.”

    The wizard looked at her, quite perplexed at what she had said. “Okay I know that sounds weird but let me explain. Neither of us are “alone” in the traditional sense, cause, we’ve got each other, along with Grem, Honesty, Fauna. But, both of us are somehow disconnected from what we call “home”, so we both feel our own sense of loneliness. Which means neither of us have to be alone in being alone because of what we share.”

    “…that made no sense at all did it?”

    “No, no,” Jørgen said in response, looking to reassure his friend, “it makes more sense than you realise, especially given an individual’s need for relatedness. On your note of feeling disconnected from home, do you ever yearn for when time was simpler back home, in the Shadow Realm?”

    Now it was Marieya’s turn to pause, as she looked down at her gloved hand, flexing her fingers slightly as she looked back on her actions and what led up to the moments of today. “Simpler is a subjective term,” she said, “sure we’re chased down by dragons, fighting hordes of undead, and have just unleashed the demon lord of conquest into the world. But things weren’t all good back then either.”

    “Phoenix blood doesn’t just make me different in a magical sense from most Shadow Fey. Certain things I feel differently as well… being crass a good portion of my people focus on sex, usually using congress with other Midgard beings as a premium for magical items, with the reason being “it warmed them”. Well, I never got that, maybe because I’ve always had warmth inside, but it kind of meant no one really got me, bar the few friends I had.”

    Another pause came, this time much shorter, before Marieya continued on. “Besides, I can’t really dwell too much, the life I led before can be left behind now. And home doesn’t have to be somewhere set in stone,” she looked up at Jørgen as she said this, and made a deliberate effort to make eye contact with him for her next point, “it can be two eyes and a heartbeat, y’know?”

    Having had such a deeply personal matter shared with him, Jørgen returned eye contact and smiled slightly, saying, “I definitely understand. Home need not be a place, home is whoever you can feel relaxed with. Sharing a house without those who feel special to you just serves as a reminder of what was lost… I do not think I am ready to discuss that one though.”

    Marieya reached out a hand and took Jørgen’s with it, squeezing gently. “We can talk whenever you’re ready, just don’t bottle it up and then explode into a ball of fiery feathers.”

    “I did and you’ve literally been inside my mind to see what effects it had.”

    Jørgen returned the hand squeeze, laughing softly, and said, “I think we all learnt something from your experience on that. It is at least more unique than crying into a bottle by moonlight, I have seen that one many times.”

    The laugh Marieya produced was one of nervous denial, “Hah, yeah, totally…”, she said, knowing full well she has done that one many times in the past. 

    Sensing her discomfort, the wizard seeked to change the topic to something more positive, saying, “I will say you are the best cleric I have seen in a while, both in action and during downtime.”

    “Thanks, wasn’t a role I exactly envisioned a while back,” she said with a sincere smile, “but I’m glad it has been able to help people in many ways. And I can say the same for yourself as a wizard… even if I’ve learnt you folk really like maps for some reason…”

    “Sure, we will go with that as the takeaway from today’s events.”

    Inspiration

    Starting the year off in the most reliable way I know how, with a Marieya story. This time though the stakes are much lower as I was mainly aiming to develop and explore the relationship Marieya and our wizard, Jørgen Brúnison, share.

    Jørgen often ends up being the unintentional face of the party, especially when it comes to serious political-ish matters in the world. Whilst his player does try to share the responsibility and make sure people are staying engaged, this is helpful when three of the remaining four party members have the potential to be diplomatic incidents. (the last one is usually a weasel)

    What brought about the main inspiration for this piece was a brief bit of roleplay myself and Jørgen’s player did in the text channel of the game, initially it took place during a non-specific long rest period, but given the two characters have now split off from the party to spend some time at a magical college, I figured that would have made sense thematically.

    Plus it allowed me to revisit the brilliant explanation between sorcerers and wizards and Marieya’s reaction to it. Whilst it was a very well constructed set of metaphors, having an Intelligence of 9 meant it was very much a case of smile, nod, and say something about maps so people know you at least sort of know what they said went in.

    One of the main points in this story is the first instance of Marieya’s sexuality being written down. All of my characters have their own sexual and romantic orientations because I want them to have them and no one can stop me, but this usually does not come up in regular play. 

    However, something discovered in the Midgard World Book during a general game discussion inadvertently led to something very narratively pleasing. Before this piece of information was discovered, Marieya’s orientations were always asexual and panromantic. 

    Though, the little detail of Shadow Fey saying that sex “warms them” provided a beautiful reason of why she always felt differently, and allowed me to further explore the positives of her phoenix blood.

    This was fun to write, and hopefully I get the chance to explore both Fauna’s and Grem’s connections to Marieya in the future.