RedDusk

Pathfinder Tabletop - Carrion Crown

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Love Thy Neighbour

Iris found the nearest bathroom after several minutes of peeking into rooms along the way, marveling at the quaint comfort of the decor. The Professor seemed to enjoy the old world charms, an aesthetic Iris also appreciated. Just as he had removed all the lengthy strips of fabric that made up his dancer attire and was reaching for one of the knobs, he heard the distinct sound of armor in motion--the telltale clinking of metal plates tapping against one another as someone walked. Wondering if the approaching noise was his unfortunate bedmate from the previous night, Iris wrapped one of the satin sashes around his waist stepped back out, catching Ganth just as the knight rounded the nearby corner.

"My Lord Inquisitor!" he teased with a bow, walking towards Ganth in nothing but a short wraparound.

"Iris?" -Ganth looked scandalized at the courtesan's careless clothing, the deep blush returned full force.

"The one and only. Care to join me for a bath?"

The invitation simply caused Ganth to narrow his eyes. After a few moments, the inquisitor finally responded, clearly flustered.

"No thanks."

"I'll make it good," Iris teased, wandering close enough for Ganth to smell the scent of honeysuckle on the courtesan's body, the perfume from yesterday still enticingly strong.

"I'm sure it is." -Ganth said quickly, his mouth moved before he could really think what it sounded like. Too late to take back his words now, though. Clearly, he hadn't had enough rest, else why would he struggle with words so much? -"Enjoy your bath." -Seeing as the courtesan was trying to finish what he started yesterday, Ganth believed retreat was his safest option. But Iris had caught the scent of weakness like a bloodhound and before the knight could maneuver to safety, he had already wrapped his arms from the taller Aasimar's neck, lips sliding against Ganth's jaw and neck again.

"What would it hurt, hmm?" the soft voice whispered, promising an experience to remember.

"I-I beg your pardon?" -The sudden warmth against his neck almost made Ganth shudder, and he had to fight to keep his hands still.

"It's just a bath, my Lord Inquisitor," the courtesan purred, "surely you've shared baths before."

"I have." -But Ganth didn't simply trust Iris to stop at 'just a bath' -"But...I prefer mine alone, if you don't mind."

"You're so cold to me, you know. And I just wanted your company, too."

"I do not make very good company, as I have told you before. Perhaps someone else would be far more captivating and...willing."

"But you're the only one who puts up so much of a fight. Or a front." Another kiss to his jaw punctuated the sentence and Iris's hand was creeping to the rim of his hair, deft fingers tracing the shape and slipping into his hair.

"I assure you, it's not a front." -Ganth caught his wrists then, though his grip was far laxer than what he was capable -"I follow the pale lady Pharasma. She would not approve of this...excess/"

"...Excess, am I?" The coy smile on Iris's lips smoothed into neutrality and he twisted his wrist free from the firm, but light grip. The same hand blew a kiss in Ganth's direction, but the courtesan didn't elaborate further. Instead he stepped away and turned towards the bathroom door. "Well, if you ever decide to try out any 'excess' I'm a short catcall away." He waved dismissively, as if brushing away something above his head while he walked back to the bathroom, the smooth glide of his usual gait replaced with a more measured beat.

Ganth noticed the changes easily enough, subtle as they were. Yet, he made no move to pursue the courtesan. Instead, he turned and walked back to his room. There was simply more things that needed his attention for the moment.

Celestial Bonds

Mage: Gabriel of Marvik

_{Art by Numyart}

Tall and muscular, Gabriel has the tell-tale physique of many from the lower class in Grenheim, though far more well-built due to his proficiency with the bow. His back muscles in particular are extremely defined from lifelong use of a hunting bow and far stronger than one would expect from constant training to remain the ranged, apex predator in his neck of the woods. Many jagged scars marred his tanned skin; most were from close encounters with wildlife, as part of his occupation. His dark hair is coarse and unruly, kept long and would often cover his eyes if he let it down. Most of time, he kept it tied back with a string. Working often with a bow has produced deft but calloused fingers, which also bear many scars from formative years training with a butcher knife.

There isn’t much to say about his usual clothing. As a simple villager, he only owns a few sets of clothes to his name, most are simple linen tunics and pants. One fixed feature of his appearance is a somewhat tattered fur coat, mostly due to the harsh winters of his village. Leather boots and gloves were also frequent accessories, even when he isn’t out in the woods. Around his waist is a well worn leather belt, from which hangs his hunting knife and a small pouch for essentials.

A hunter’s son, Gabriel grew up in an isolated cottage with his father. One of his earlier memories was of the hunt: the smell of spilled blood and deer musk, his father’s warm laughter and the weight of the kill on his shoulders as they carried it back. Even in his younger years, Gabriel was withdrawn. He had always preferred to explore the woods around him rather than seeking companions.

Then Arden came into his life. The boy was a scion of a noble family, and yet somehow he managed to befriend the stoic Gabe. On the winter of his 16th year, his father passed away, his body finally succumbed to an old sickness. Gabriel did not mourn the man for long; that winter had been long and harsh, and he had to work to keep himself fed. Naturally, he inherited his father’s cottage and his occupation. For years, he lived the hermit life; only travelling to the nearby village to restock on necessary supplies and barter his catch with the steady visits from Arden. Aside from that, most of his days were spent in the woods, setting up traps and tracking down new quarry.

Together, they maintained a tentative routine: Arden would come over for dinner several times a week, sharing whatever meagre meals Gabriel had cooked up while bringing over delicacies to share with the hunter. After an act of defiance that cost Arden his own position, Gabriel took him in, letting the scion stay with him until the day they were finally located for the bonding ritual.

Gabriel is best described as cold, standoffish and completely unsociable. He seemed entirely ruled by his logic, rarely expressing or acting on his emotions. With the exception of Arden, the hunter often prefers to spend his time doing his own things, rather than being around other people. He rarely speaks in the company of strangers too, and this attribute clearly affects his ability to work in a group. Because of his preference for solitude and autonomy, he also dislikes being dependent on someone or following orders, though he does make an attempt to keep things cordial. It doesn’t mean the same thing as engaging in conversations, though.

Very very very platonic friendship. He cares deeply for Arden, despite what he shows (or doesn't).

Arden Harwell

Located on the front of his left hip. Glows faintly with a soft hue of mixed blues, purples, and greens.

A hunter by trade, Gabriel wields a recurve bow. He quite used to stalking and firing while crouching down in tall bushes, so when he engages enemies, expect him to employ a similar technique: he will attempt to keep his distance and take them by surprise.

Recurve bows, arrows and bow-related equipment.
Hunting knife.

He’s a commoner by birth. So, he’s quite poor, doesn’t know how to read and has never actually seen a horse close up. His combat experience is restricted to just wildlife; though there was scuffles with humans before. Regardless, Gabriel isn't exactly a seasoned fighter.

Devotion.

All of Gabriel’s spells are focused around empowering and drawing strength from his partner. Therefore, they can only affect Arden as of the moment.

Blood In The Water
Throwing Arden into a murderous rage, greatly increasing his strength, speed and stamina. Yet, this spell is also draining on both him and Arden, though at different time interval. For Gabriel, the exhaustion worsens as the spell is maintained (lasting as long 20-30 minutes at a stretch, though that would be pushing Gabe's limits very hard), while for Arden, it hits him all at once when he gets out of beast form.

What's Mine Is Yours
Transferring all of Arden’s current wounds onto him. When this spell is used, Gabriel gains a minor healing factor, allowing him to recover at a glacial pace. Yes, he can kill himself with this ability.

Through Thick And Thin
The closer Gabriel is to his knight, the stronger he is, surpassing even the feats of lifelong, competitive athletes, though it doesn't extend into anything egregiously "superhuman" (lifting around 1000 lbs. at peak spell effect and running at roughly 20-30 miles per hour). Basically, his physical prowess is enhanced by Arden's presence.

…
People.
His job.
Shoot me down. /// Broken bones.
Nope.

Celestial Bonds

Post to prove my presence in this RP.

Celestial Bonds

You better.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

『𝕊𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣』 『ℂ𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕞𝕒𝕤』

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ℂ𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 ℙ𝕠𝕤𝕥𝕤 / / @RedDusk@January

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𝕎𝕖𝕕: 𝕆𝕔𝕥. 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕀𝕤𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 / / 𝕃𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕤𝕖 / / ~𝟘𝟝𝟝𝟝

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With his tattered shirt clinging to his skin and salt water still dripping from his damp hair, Sander felt miserable. His reservoir of borrowed strength was running dry; it was still there, enough to keep him upright at least until they reached somewhere warm and safe, but Sander knew he would have to get there fast. Beside him, Christmas was shivering lightly as he walked, despite the blood mage’s effort of shielding him from the cold. Then suddenly, the healer tripped on his bad leg, letting out a pained yelp before plummeting toward. Had Sander not caught him in time, Christmas would have been sprawled on the hard ground.

Only then did Sander finally take a closer look at Christmas’ swollen ankle.

“Christmas?” -He called the blond boy’s name, reaching up to his face with one hand while the other worked to steady his roommate.

The boy was already leaning heavily on the proferred arm, clutching at it in an attempt to right himself and stand, but he had overworked the tired ankle beyond the glacial rate of his self-healing and the bruised flesh now sported the unmistakable signs of a severe sprain. Whimpering answered Sander’s call and Christmas gingerly rested his weight back on his serviceable leg. The other he kept slightly crooked, limping badly in that manner.

“Does it hurt?” -Sander asked, clutching Christmas tighter to his chest. The blond boy’s difficulty clearly answered his question. He reached down then, hefting the healer up into a bridal carry, letting the head of blond hair rest against his chest –“I got you. Don’t worry.” -He reassured his roommate, shifting the weight around until his arms were comfortable. It was a testament to the boy’s exhaustion that he uttered only a quiet noise of surprise before settling into the hold.

”…I’m sorry,” he mumbled, already shifting towards the unnatural heat of Sander’s body.

“Don’t be.” -Sander touched a few fingers to Christmas’ cheek -”Please don’t be.”

”You’re—you’re okay…?”

“As long as I’m with you.”

The answer caught Christmas off guard with the frankness of Sander’s tone and he buried his face in the tattered shirt to hide his embarrassment. Nestled against that steady presence, however, he felt brave enough to mumble ”Thank you” in response.

Sander simply smiled, allowing himself one last feather-light touch, before looking for his classmates and catching up to them. He had to get Christmas somewhere safe and warm first. The town was the best option at the moment.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Hi, I too am a GM.

Children of The Abyss (Name still WIP)

Sure, I will join this. Sounds like a good time.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

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𝕎𝕖𝕕: 𝕆𝕔𝕥. 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕀𝕤𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 / / 𝕆𝕗𝕗𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕣𝕖 / / ~𝟘𝟝𝟛𝟝

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The colossal wave came suddenly, and it caught him off guard. One moment Sander was dashing across the forest floor, long strides propelling him toward his target, then the next, his feet was out from under him and he was floating, drowning and falling down with currents. It smashed him through leaves and branches and dragged him through the dirt, where his limbs flailed in vain to get a hold on anything at all. He squeezed his eyes shut a few seconds too late, the burning sensation from salt water had began to pulse behind his eyelids and down in his lungs, just as he opened his mouth and tried to gasp a breath. Nothing salt water for his effort, and he retched. It burnt, all the way down.

It took him a few more moments of reorientation to realize he was surrounded by water still. Icy cold salt water that effective blinded his senses and slippery to the touch, denying him even the shakiest foothold. For all his impossible strength and monstrous endurance, he was rendered helpless so easily in the water’s cold embrace. His fire spluttered, threatened. Cold dread building in the back of his spine, which he tried his hardest to ignore while focusing on the coordination of his limbs, managing short and inhale every time he surfaced. But the water was determined to hold him down, and tried as he might, he could not break its hold.

He had to, and fast, or he was done for.

A twinge of regret formed in his stomach at the thought, stemming from memories of blond hair and blue ribbons, so Sander gritted his teeth and struggled harder against the waves.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

『𝕊𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣』 『ℂ𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕞𝕒𝕤』

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ℂ𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 ℙ𝕠𝕤𝕥𝕤 / / @RedDusk@January

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𝕎𝕖𝕕: 𝕆𝕔𝕥. 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕀𝕤𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 / / 𝕃𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕤𝕖 / / ~𝟘𝟝𝟚𝟘

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Glancing into the stormy weather outside the lighthouse window as the he emerged from the trapdoor, Sander felt a cold dread crawling up his spine. Had this been a wise choice? He didn’t know. With another group fast approaching and an unknown somewhere above them, he wasn’t sure anymore. Maybe they would have had better luck bunkering down at the mansion?

Doubts brewed at the back of his mind, and Sander turned to Christmas, pulling the healer into his arms.

“Maybe we should just…stay here.” -He whispered into golden hair, eyes still glued to the cold morning outside.

Shivering in the cold, Christmas stayed in Sander’s hold and hoped a solution would magically appear before them—well, even more magically than the powers they had at their disposal. Instead he rubbed his cheek against the soft gray of Sander’s shirt.

”…Do you…n-need blood?” An old question, and so different now.

“I do.” -Sander managed to keep his voice neutral, if only just.

”Can take…m-mine.”

“Not yours.” -A cold hand gripped the nape of Christmas’ neck, pressing the blond boy’s face against Sander’s chest –“Remember the first day? You are important. You must be protected.”

It didn’t feel good this time, to be held by Sander like he was treasuring an object instead of the measly boy Christmas was. He blinked, wondering when he had started to think that he deserved more and feeling instead the cool fingertips against the back of neck and the thudding heartbeat against his cheek.

”I want…you to be protected, too,” he mumbled into the folds of fabric, trying to insist.

“I’m fine.” -Flashes of past defeats and near deaths and mistakes told him that he wasn’t, but for Christmas, he would do anything. So he lied –“I’ll be fine, okay? I promise. You should stay where’s it safe.”

”N-near you,” the blonde insisted.

“I’ll be alright.” -And Sander insisted right back -”Really.”

”Please…” Because no matter what happened, he wanted to be near.

“It’ll be fine. Cmon.”

The healer’s grip on Sander’s shirt tightened through shaking hands and he stopped trying to argue with words, instead holding fast, afraid Sander would leave him there. With no other option, the blood mage only sighed before allowing himself to absorb a paltry amount of blood through the bare skin of Christmas’ neck. Though little, the blood was flash fire in his veins, and Sander gritted his teeth, taking a few moments to calm himself.

“Look.” -He held out his hand and tried to summon the armor. It worked. The heat crawled up and enveloped the skin of his left arm, wrapping it in the physical manifestation of his power. The jagged, dark red plates had an almost metallic shine, and even though it looked crude and rough, he knew he could depend on it. He tapped the armored hand against the back of Christmas’ neck -”Here.”

Christmas turned to look, surprise on his face as he stared at the tessellated plates of gleaming red on Sander’s hand.

”M-More?”

“It’s enough.”

”Is—Is it really?”

Sander did not answer. Instead, he kept his bare hand on Christmas’ back, rubbing soothing motions there. With a small shudder, Christmas let go reluctantly, knowing he, especially, had no way of helping Sander in a fight other than healing.

”If you…n-need healing…” he trailed off, looking up expectantly.

“I won’t.” -Sander brought a hand to the healer’s cheek -”My power heals too, remember? And it protects. I’ll be alright.”

”But…what if—”

Sander didn’t let the blond boy finish his rumination. Instead, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Christmas’ forehead.

“Don’t worry.” -He said as he pulled away -”Please.”

It wasn’t much assurance and Christmas only worried more at the faint red glow of Sander’s eyes. He felt the thrum of his own power waiting to heal on command, its effect still circulating through Sander’s body, but not currently active, the usual white veil around the torso missing. With a slow drop of his head, Christmas stared at the ground, lips trembling with the fear that he couldn’t do much more than this.

There was no agreement for Sander to go, only the flare of the healer’s magic finally appearing around both of them, one for the source and the other lasting for the target’s next few moments. It was all he manage as permission to go, because he couldn’t bring himself to say it was okay this time.

With a last lingering touch on the side of Christmas’ face, Sander turned and once again focused on the scents around him, trying to to get a handle of the situation. One thing needed to be addressed first. He needed blood, and he needed it now. He was starving.

But who?

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

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𝕎𝕖𝕕: 𝕆𝕔𝕥. 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕀𝕤𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 / / 𝕃𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕤𝕖 / / ~𝟘𝟝𝟚𝟘

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His heart beat loud in his chest, and for the first time in a long while, Sander felt clear, undiluted fear. Fighting was what he did, but he had never entered a situation like this without the blood high. He never thought they would let him. After all, what was the point of an empty gun?

But here he was, and here they were, running with killers hot on their heels. He had never felt more powerless. So much for being independent of his power. In the end, he was still nothing without it.

Sander breathed out slowly, trying to keep his Stigma in check. He focused on his steps instead, keeping his feet steady and the rhythm of his strides constant. Suddenly, there was blood. Just splash of it, cold and drying, staining the concrete. Ahead, there was something like…nutmeg. Someone was hurt, too. Nothing too serious, but the beating of his heart hitched up a notch. He wanted. Further out, there was another group too. They were injured? He could smell blood on them too, a plethora of scents closing in from a distance. Who were they? Friend or foe? He couldn’t be sure.

“Someone’s out there.” -He warned, because they needed to know this. They were stronger than him right now. Maybe they could do better –“There’s one person ahead, too.”