RedDusk

—(••[ 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.”

Pathfinder Tabletop - Carrion Crown

Ganth

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Ganth read over the letter one more time, leaning toward the fading glow of the candle to illuminate the delicate words on white parchment. Lorrimor’s passing did come as a surprise for him. The man was hardly in his prime, but he was also seemingly healthy the last time they met. That made him wonder what sort of unfortunate events that befell the man. All things died, yes, but for a man of such talent, Ganth mourned, regardless. His time had yet to come.

However, what strange about the letter was that his daughter had mentioned Ganth as one of the beneficiary in Lorrimor’s will. He didn’t know why the professor would choose him, of all people. The man knew he was not very interested in material wealth; coins could be used to fuel his crusades, but that was that. The service of his Lady was its own reward for him. Furthermore, their relationship had been strictly professional; the professor would sometimes assist the inquisitors on their quests, offering advices, knowledge and even trinkets to help ward off the threats of undeath. Lorrimor had brought up questions about his linege before, Aasimars appeared to be a subject of great interest to the scholar. Ganth had always deflect the queries, as his part was not a subject he enjoyed delving into. The reason was both sentimental and practical; his sire would not appreciate stories circulating, and he did not wish revisit much of his trouble youth.

But regardless, he would be there. Lorrimor had been a prominient supporter of his brothers and sisters, and he would not honor the invitation. That meant he would be at the gate before dawn, waving down the first carriage that headed to Ravengro. And that also meant he had a lot of preparing to do. Ganth set the letter down on the table and left to get ready.

Pathfinder Tabletop - Carrion Crown

@Chasers115Do remind me which feats I have. I forgot to add them.

Pathfinder Tabletop - Carrion Crown

Ganth

Name

Ganth

Age

90

Race

Yes, another Goddamned Aasimar

Class

Inquisitor

Appearance

Hider

Tall and broad shouldered, this warrior has the impressive physique of someone who is fluent in the art of war. Scars from past battles marred his features, but the distinctive features unique to Aasimar remain, showing most clearly in the metallic shine of his gold hair and steely grey eyes.

Personality

A stalwart warrior of his order, Ganth has vowed to devote his life to the service of Pharasma. Assertive and diplomatic, Ganth wouldn’t use violence as the first option, but he can also be ruthless and thorough when it comes to dealing with the enemies of Pharasma. There was little doubt in his heart considering the heresy of the necromancers, but sometimes, Ganth catches himself thinking about what his life would have turned out had he not been given up to the order at birth.

Backstory

Recently, rumors of heretics wielding dark magic and disturbing the eternal circle drew Ganth to Ustalav. Professor Lorrimor has assisted him as well as many of his sisters and brothers in their quest.

Other

Non.

Ganth's Character Sheet

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Sander got an upgrade. Don't worry. It's just really gay.