thesunreversed.bsky.social
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Β» Aasimar Cleric-Bard of a dead god (3.5e)
Fantasy RP | written by bardlockcafe
Β» Story & banter
art by sirmiffed
59 posts
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"I have only a little more of my strength reserved, and I fear what should happen if a greater pack lingers in the woods. May I offer more mundane means of treatment?"
Of all things - they pull a piccolo from a pocket.
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they remove it without strain or incident.
Finally, they settle in around the fire, a wary eye to the woods around them and much on their mind. For the moment, all they voice is, "I will take the watch over early morn. The Dawnfather's light will be of great comfort."
To Mattias, they offer,
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"It does seem an odd predilection for a... presence such as this." But the man seems a victim of circumstance, truly; they sense no deception.
They're busy with their gear for a while, taking their time to work the heavy mail off. They seem unsuited for its weight, but with patience,
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I... find I must thank each of you. I would not have survived such an onslaught." And yet, they stand unscathed.
"I shall play us a restful song later, when we ready for slumber. Please, feel welcome to stay within the camp. I must consider what becomes of my allies' belongings...."
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[Religion: 20]
The demon does not turn upon them, and though they cannot determine its nature, it bears no resemblance to the forces of Hell they must stand against, either. Warily, they lower their morningstar and shield and let relief settle in.
"Aye, more than a few I think.
But we yet live.
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they would not falter. They would not find the same end as the others.
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As the magic of the art flows through them, it reminds these adventurers that even as darkness falls, light will always prevail.
[Inspire Courage: +1 to attack and damage rolls,
+1 on saves vs Fear effects]
The earth-shaking howl seems to echo within the soul. With the Sun's blessing,
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"Stand fast! Strike true!"
Wren begins to chant, not a prayer this time, but a Bardic Performance - an epic poem devoted to the sun and its Keeper of old.
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Truly, the Keeper of the Sun smiles on them from beyond the great horizon.
[Cure Light Wounds: 10 HP]
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The cleric holds fast, bearing their shield between the wizard (and themself) and the pacing wolves looking for an opening to tear them from each other - but as they do, they blindly find his leg with theirs, chanting another prayer to tend to his wounds.
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and cry, "Find justice in the light, foul beasts!"
[Bane DC 18 Will Save: -1 Attack rolls and Saves vs Fear]
The dread settles over some, while others grow bolder. They shift to stand at Mattias' back, shield held aloft and ready for the onslaught.
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[Heal DC 15: 14]
Though the Aasimar's sight was keen, it was remarkably difficult to focus when one among them jumped out of a tree and seemed to turn into some sort of humanoid scorpion. He is at the elf's side; they will trust the pair to tend to each other.
Instead, they raise their morningstar
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questioning eye. "Do not trouble yourself too heavily, traveler. I will be ready when the fiends return."
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found by a more nefarious band.
Slowly, they rise to their feet, now at their full health, accompanied by an orchestra of banded mail armor that shifts heavily as the move. They hoist themselves from the ground and ready for whatever need the others have of them.
But they catch Mattias'
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No longer wounded, now defended, they feel relief and a swell of gratitude in equal measure.
"I owe each of you great thanks. It is heartening, to be found by those bearing light when so many would take advantage of the shadows."
It doesn't bear thinking about what might have happened if they were
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into the twilight.
"Six there were, or so the missive told.
Ten fell upon us. I was asleep, and missed the lion's share of the battle. Perhaps if I had not..."
Perhaps they would be among the slain. It's impossible to know. But their wings curve around them that little bit tighter.
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"I think I will be alright without it... but neither would I refuse aid offered freely."
Their eyes fall on each in turn - two humans, a tiefling, and an elf leading them.
And as the party enters the camp, they find what lay just past it - bodies torn asunder, and signs of two more dragged
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but perhaps the night would offer hope yet.
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the wounds begin to close.
Their head snaps up at the sound of not-so-distant footsteps. They cannot make out any figures among the woods yet, but they hear voices; they hear [bickering.]
Night will come soon. They had resigned themselves to fleeing without their supplies, or worse;
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Ahead at the campsite the Aasimar sat alone, still panting, still bloodied. Where they weren't armored, deep gouges covered their skin.
Fortunately, they had not expended their resources. There hadn't been time. They say a brief prayer and light fills their hand. When they lay it upon their skin,
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I thought [you] were the brains of the family!
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You never wrote to me while I was in the Fade. Never asked after the Fade wife and Fade kids.
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||biting you
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(This could apply to anyone except maybe Sebastian)
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Well. Kept.
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And that shaky promise shouldn't make her mirror their mirth, but there's a penchant for disobedience that resonates with the being before her. This was, after all, a woman who had agreed with Anders, in the end.
"Well, I surely couldn't fault you if it were funny."
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with this one.
"Alright - Ruby and Mischief. I'd ask that you be honest with me, but I don't know if that's a habit of yours. If things turn, I'll act."
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Sense isn't what she needs - it's the name he gives her, an understanding of what they [should] look like, so she can see when they take a step too far.
Mischief sounds like she's in for more explosions, but at least they sound fun this time around. She might even be able to crack a joke