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lettersfrombel11 Tarsakh 1492 DR
A goblin camp by Moonhaven
My dear River.
Things are calmer in the morning. Well, or they were when we broke camp. Do not doubt that they will become more exciting. My silly crush is testing my self-control. Wyll had mentioned how he was feeling, which included that he hadn’t yet seen his face in a mirror, but had felt how his body had changed, and, gods, River, every time that man talks about the scars on his body, I want to tear his clothes off and kiss them. It has been too long for me since I’ve had someone in my bed; I need to get this out of my system. He asked me how he looked, and I wanted to tell him he was still handsome, but... frankly, if it were me, I wouldn’t care what some near-stranger thought about my face. I try not to be an asshole to people who don’t deserve it, and he didn’t. So I told him that I still saw the same old Wyll, regardless of the horns and ridges.
Wyll is not an idiot, he knows that there is a world of difference between how people see a human, and one who, at best, might be mistaken for a tiefling, and that Madame Mizora chose her punishment because of that. I can’t tell him that he’s wrong that people will see a devil and judge accordingly, and that he won’t find the easy acceptance he did before. None of my companions have ever commented on my appearance, but perhaps it is due to our unwitting bond. (That and I suspect Madame Lae’zel may not know, but I also suspect that of all of them, she would be the least likely to care. I’m not githyanki, and not a mind flayer, and so I exist in some third category with everyone else.)
We are at the stage in our adventure where a mix of close proximity and comfort means that everyone is vomiting their secrets at each other. I have not gotten drunk or maudlin enough to tell any of mine, but they are hardly surprising to those of us who know how the Lolth-sworn raise their children. I will say that Master Gale has the worst timing, in that he picked a period while we were attempting to be sneaky. I was this close to sending him back to camp where we could have this conversation without risking startling a bugbear. Shadowheart finally also told me which god she worshiped; I am not saying which, but let me say I should have told some stories about Nurgle before this. When you consider a cleric of Talona like a little brother, it’s far more likely to turn off clerics who don’t need to hide their gods.
Yesterday, I found a boar drained of blood in the woods. Today I ran into the potion dealer in the swamp, and I realize I may have annoyed a hag. My goal of subtracting item from my enemy list is nor working. We did find the goblin camp, though. Honestly, River, I’m good, but I don’t know if I’m this good. There are too many of them, even for all seven of us. Add in that this Absolute thing... Nettie mentioned something was drawing people like myself and my companions here. When we approached the goblin camp, I felt it. I see why those that speak of it describe it as a god. It was just- too much is the only way to describe it. Had Shadowheart lacked an ace in her pocket, you would be getting a rather different letter from me that would make you worry that I had been overwhelmed with enchantment spells. There is a reason I try to do as little messing about with gods as possible. People like Shadowheart or Lae’zel who believe in the rectitude of some more powerful being are slightly insane, or have had lives such that all they can do is cling to something besides themselves. I don’t think I’ve had that.
Do you know what I said in my last letter about trusting me with this power? I feel it even more strongly. Perhaps someone could use this and never become a tyrant; I am not that man.
I have been in exactly one goblin settlement before this, and the main difference was seeing it in the open air, and in a state of celebration. About the only things going for us was that everyone was at least a little drunk, and this Absolute business. Which made the whole thing surreal, as the two humans I met in the woods the other day were there, joining in on the party, and completely oblivious that the goblins were joking about setting an inn on fire and kidnapping or killing everyone around. It would be a touching moment of unity if, you know, it wasn’t being lead by a group that is bent on starting a brainwashed cult, and working with goblins who seem perfectly happy to consider the rest of us on the menu.
(I did get a lovely joke from the children, who remain unimpressed by drow, even with some running this circus. What do you call a drow’s knickers? His under-drawers. )
Truly a day for the sharing of important cultural touchstones. I also learned of the goblin game of ‘chicken-chasin’ — the lack of a g is important there. One requires a chicken, or appropriate substitute, an obstacle course, and a humanoid. The goal is to chase the chicken through the course before a watch glass (well, or more realistically, a goblin counting down) runs out. I put on a good show, but lost — winning was not my goal. I have developed many tricks to deal with my people’s reputation, and if there is one thing I’ve learned, is that nothing takes the edge off our reputation than watching a drow treat others as equals, fail at a game of skill, lose gracefully, and pay up the money he wagered. I don’t know if it helped, but I did manage to talk them into letting me keep the ‘chicken’ — actually an owl bear cub that ate the actual chicken. I suspect I know what happened to the mother owlbear, and I hope she took out many many goblins in the name of protecting her son.
It... River, I’m going to tell you a story you will find depressing and maybe upsetting, as are most stories about growing up and my younger brother. Harlkyn would capture small animals and keep them as pets. As near as I can tell, he took excellent care of them; I suspect he wanted the company of a creature that was either indifferent to or liked him. Mother believed strongly that none of us should keep anything we couldn’t protect, and the odds are not in favor between a boy and an adult priestess of Lolth with command of that boy's older brothers. It took her longer than it should for her to figure out that the number of animals that ‘escaped’ when she sent me to ‘deal’ with them was not because I am incapable of keeping hold of a small bat when it has latched onto the fleshy bit of my hand. I don’t think Harlkyn ever realized that the escapes were intended by me, either. Like many things when my mother set me against my brother, it merely prolonged the inevitable, but it did demonstrate I was acting on her instruction rather than petty cruelty. I'll take what victories I can get.
The point is, I’d like to think my brother would be pleased I rescued a baby animal from its tormentors and had somewhere better for it to go than ‘back to the wild’. I’d name the creature after him, but my brother’s name literally comes from the word for ‘bad luck’, and I don’t know if he’d want another creature cursed with it. Perhaps ‘Lucky’ would be better. If we can actually figure out how to deal with this cult and the goblins, I suspect Lucky might have to stay with the druids if he gets too much larger.
We also have another unlucky captive, beyond Lucky and Halsin (who appears to be in the depths of the complex); the bard we met at the druid grove, Volo, was apparently stupid enough to walk straight into a goblin camp and expect to walk out again. Unfortunately, my attempts to get him off the makeshift stage — as the goblins were seeing how long he could sing their praises — merely caused them to return him to wherever they keep their captives.
I am going to finish this letter and try to rest. I don’t know if we pitched out tents too close to the wetlands, or if the lack of regular baths is getting to me, but I feel disgustingly sticky and sweaty. Mayhap I can sweet-talk Gale into using some name-appropriate wind magic to cool and dry things off.
Your dear friend,
Bel
From the Player:
A goblin camp by Moonhaven
My dear River.
Things are calmer in the morning. Well, or they were when we broke camp. Do not doubt that they will become more exciting. My silly crush is testing my self-control. Wyll had mentioned how he was feeling, which included that he hadn’t yet seen his face in a mirror, but had felt how his body had changed, and, gods, River, every time that man talks about the scars on his body, I want to tear his clothes off and kiss them. It has been too long for me since I’ve had someone in my bed; I need to get this out of my system. He asked me how he looked, and I wanted to tell him he was still handsome, but... frankly, if it were me, I wouldn’t care what some near-stranger thought about my face. I try not to be an asshole to people who don’t deserve it, and he didn’t. So I told him that I still saw the same old Wyll, regardless of the horns and ridges.
Wyll is not an idiot, he knows that there is a world of difference between how people see a human, and one who, at best, might be mistaken for a tiefling, and that Madame Mizora chose her punishment because of that. I can’t tell him that he’s wrong that people will see a devil and judge accordingly, and that he won’t find the easy acceptance he did before. None of my companions have ever commented on my appearance, but perhaps it is due to our unwitting bond. (That and I suspect Madame Lae’zel may not know, but I also suspect that of all of them, she would be the least likely to care. I’m not githyanki, and not a mind flayer, and so I exist in some third category with everyone else.)
We are at the stage in our adventure where a mix of close proximity and comfort means that everyone is vomiting their secrets at each other. I have not gotten drunk or maudlin enough to tell any of mine, but they are hardly surprising to those of us who know how the Lolth-sworn raise their children. I will say that Master Gale has the worst timing, in that he picked a period while we were attempting to be sneaky. I was this close to sending him back to camp where we could have this conversation without risking startling a bugbear. Shadowheart finally also told me which god she worshiped; I am not saying which, but let me say I should have told some stories about Nurgle before this. When you consider a cleric of Talona like a little brother, it’s far more likely to turn off clerics who don’t need to hide their gods.
Yesterday, I found a boar drained of blood in the woods. Today I ran into the potion dealer in the swamp, and I realize I may have annoyed a hag. My goal of subtracting item from my enemy list is nor working. We did find the goblin camp, though. Honestly, River, I’m good, but I don’t know if I’m this good. There are too many of them, even for all seven of us. Add in that this Absolute thing... Nettie mentioned something was drawing people like myself and my companions here. When we approached the goblin camp, I felt it. I see why those that speak of it describe it as a god. It was just- too much is the only way to describe it. Had Shadowheart lacked an ace in her pocket, you would be getting a rather different letter from me that would make you worry that I had been overwhelmed with enchantment spells. There is a reason I try to do as little messing about with gods as possible. People like Shadowheart or Lae’zel who believe in the rectitude of some more powerful being are slightly insane, or have had lives such that all they can do is cling to something besides themselves. I don’t think I’ve had that.
Do you know what I said in my last letter about trusting me with this power? I feel it even more strongly. Perhaps someone could use this and never become a tyrant; I am not that man.
I have been in exactly one goblin settlement before this, and the main difference was seeing it in the open air, and in a state of celebration. About the only things going for us was that everyone was at least a little drunk, and this Absolute business. Which made the whole thing surreal, as the two humans I met in the woods the other day were there, joining in on the party, and completely oblivious that the goblins were joking about setting an inn on fire and kidnapping or killing everyone around. It would be a touching moment of unity if, you know, it wasn’t being lead by a group that is bent on starting a brainwashed cult, and working with goblins who seem perfectly happy to consider the rest of us on the menu.
(I did get a lovely joke from the children, who remain unimpressed by drow, even with some running this circus. What do you call a drow’s knickers? His under-drawers. )
Truly a day for the sharing of important cultural touchstones. I also learned of the goblin game of ‘chicken-chasin’ — the lack of a g is important there. One requires a chicken, or appropriate substitute, an obstacle course, and a humanoid. The goal is to chase the chicken through the course before a watch glass (well, or more realistically, a goblin counting down) runs out. I put on a good show, but lost — winning was not my goal. I have developed many tricks to deal with my people’s reputation, and if there is one thing I’ve learned, is that nothing takes the edge off our reputation than watching a drow treat others as equals, fail at a game of skill, lose gracefully, and pay up the money he wagered. I don’t know if it helped, but I did manage to talk them into letting me keep the ‘chicken’ — actually an owl bear cub that ate the actual chicken. I suspect I know what happened to the mother owlbear, and I hope she took out many many goblins in the name of protecting her son.
It... River, I’m going to tell you a story you will find depressing and maybe upsetting, as are most stories about growing up and my younger brother. Harlkyn would capture small animals and keep them as pets. As near as I can tell, he took excellent care of them; I suspect he wanted the company of a creature that was either indifferent to or liked him. Mother believed strongly that none of us should keep anything we couldn’t protect, and the odds are not in favor between a boy and an adult priestess of Lolth with command of that boy's older brothers. It took her longer than it should for her to figure out that the number of animals that ‘escaped’ when she sent me to ‘deal’ with them was not because I am incapable of keeping hold of a small bat when it has latched onto the fleshy bit of my hand. I don’t think Harlkyn ever realized that the escapes were intended by me, either. Like many things when my mother set me against my brother, it merely prolonged the inevitable, but it did demonstrate I was acting on her instruction rather than petty cruelty. I'll take what victories I can get.
The point is, I’d like to think my brother would be pleased I rescued a baby animal from its tormentors and had somewhere better for it to go than ‘back to the wild’. I’d name the creature after him, but my brother’s name literally comes from the word for ‘bad luck’, and I don’t know if he’d want another creature cursed with it. Perhaps ‘Lucky’ would be better. If we can actually figure out how to deal with this cult and the goblins, I suspect Lucky might have to stay with the druids if he gets too much larger.
We also have another unlucky captive, beyond Lucky and Halsin (who appears to be in the depths of the complex); the bard we met at the druid grove, Volo, was apparently stupid enough to walk straight into a goblin camp and expect to walk out again. Unfortunately, my attempts to get him off the makeshift stage — as the goblins were seeing how long he could sing their praises — merely caused them to return him to wherever they keep their captives.
I am going to finish this letter and try to rest. I don’t know if we pitched out tents too close to the wetlands, or if the lack of regular baths is getting to me, but I feel disgustingly sticky and sweaty. Mayhap I can sweet-talk Gale into using some name-appropriate wind magic to cool and dry things off.
Your dear friend,
Bel
From the Player:
Honestly, if Bel was a companion, I suspect his first reveal would be that he does contact his family regularly, and that he does feel some obligation even if he doesn't want to.
Bel's story to River -- which I really should put a content warning on -- is a reminder of why Bel doesn't talk much about his family, and pragmatically admits he should stop contacting them. (If you asked Ilphyl/
It's also a core part of who Bel is as a person is that they are highly conscious of their appearance and mannerisms. Bel mentioned it with the goblins: he's been deliberately aware that most drow would be acting like their shit doesn't stink, and treating goblins, especially the rank and file, as barely above animals. Bel can't shed the grace and some of his verbal ticks, but a drow who is willing to chase a chicken through a maze and lose to the chicken, and hear about how goblins managed to win creates a rather differing impression.
Like, Bel realizes that the goblins are hostile to the tiefling refugee settlement, and that he's going to have to kill at least some of them, and interacting with them peacefully will make that harder. But he also recognizes that the average goblin doesn't care that much about who they target, and considers it above their pay grade, so it's not personal. The leadership might be.
Bel is sincere that he doesn't care who Shadowheart worships, but he considers all gods a bit suss. Again, he spent time with a cleric of Talona, and he knows why Nurgle (yes, really) worshiped a god of plague and poison, and it is 'clinging to a god to get him through some shit'. So he's willing to assume Shadowheart had the same sort of logic: she's been through some shit, and something about Shar helped her deal with pain and loss. (Also: see Bel's own take on why getting close to people sucks, because it inevitably causes pain and loss, and he considers it one more of his self-destructive tendencies. I suspect Shadowheart sees Bel as a potential convert if he wasn't so cynical about gods.)
Bel is keeping a list of 'what weaknesses my companions have' but more in terms of 'so they don't screw us over'. Like, it's affectionate, the same way in the tabletop game I was in, he always made sure Sylvia, the kitsune shaman, had another person with her because she had little experience in social situations. This at one point lead to Bel sitting outside a herbalist shop, because they needed to ask about potentially poisonous plants, and Bel realizes that Sylvia's mix of actual competence and the fact she can't lie for shit made her trustworthy, and that having a drow lurking behind her would undermine that.
Also, as it happens, the tabletop game means Bel has met at least one hag and one vampire: the town they were in had a string of murders, and the local monsters were willing to work with the adventuring party hired by the human mayor under the 'something moved into our hunting grounds, and if we don't remove it, this might lead to adventurers coming after us'. Turns out the murderer was a mind flayer, hiding their feeding by chopping people's heads off and spreading legends of a dullahan to confuse matters. (Bel blames this for why they were targeted in the opening.)
I'm getting better at splitting these letters at story points rather than 'when I turn off the game', and not mentioning things Bel doesn't consider important. So this one stopped with some ominous foreshadowing. (I haven't checked, but I assume the Absolute's influence was what was keeping the mind flayer parasite from growing. Shadowheart's trinket had to activate to shield the party from the Absolute... but it meant that the tadpoles could start their natural growth cycle.)
