Miscellaneous One-Shots

Hunt the Blade [BG3]

TW: idk Gale slander ig

Chars: Wyll Ravengard (bg3) & Feigne (oc)

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Wyll's contract had been traded away. Against his will. Mizora had appeared during the day to tell him as much, disappearing without a clearer explanation than 'wait and see.' He thought he knew what he had set himself up for when he'd resigned himself to a deal with her, but it had never crossed his mind, even in all the years since, that she'd ever turn around and simply give it away for gods' know what in return.

Now he lay awake in his tent, restlessly incapable of sleep despite his best efforts. He tried to tell himself he simply didn't care- what's one demon over another? Whoever it was wouldn't be able to alter his contract without his consent so he hardly had reason to worry. Still.. he didn't favour the idea of his soul being in the hands of someone he didn't even know. He was staring up at the shadows dimly dancing on the canvas overhead, contemplating this very concern, when he was met with the sudden overwhelming smell of campfire smoke. Odd, considering they'd put out their fire hours ago.

Feigne had never liked Mizora, he preferred honest violence over her tricks and manipulation. Generally, he avoided associating with lesser demons like her when he could, but when he heard the legendary 'Blade of Frontiers' was under her thumb? He couldn't miss the opportunity. He'd tracked her down (easy enough, one only had to follow the scent of sulfuric flowers and treachery) and made a deal for it. He'd have killed her if he could've, but he sensed that she was at least clever enough to put in a self-preservation clause in her contracts. Behead the bitch and he'd lose his new toy before he ever got his claws on it.

In a plume of blue fire, he appeared in the opening of Wyll's tent. The demon had meant to wait a bit longer, to maintain suspense, but he was a creature of passion and violence not patience. Pageantry was all well and good, but if he'd wanted to merely make the man squirm he'd have simply payed him a visit while he was under Mizora's control.

The dark-blue skinned man was nigh naked, only in tight trousers and a leather harness over his chest. His horns were sharp and tilted backward, almosy like a ram's, and his long almost catlike tail flickered excitedly behind him as his leathery wings flared behind his back dramatically. He did have a penchant for dramatics.

"Hello and good evening~" he bowed theatrically as he watched the human practically leap to his feet, catlike silver eyes watching him unsheath his rapier. Good. He'd heard the man was a fighter, so he'd expect nothing else.

"Cut the pleasantries. What do you want?" Wyll snapped quickly. He kept his chin up, almost defiant as he pointed his rapier at the newcomer. He took in the demon's appearance- cold blues and silvers contrasting the bold colours he'd come to expect from demons like Raphael and Mizora. He could almost mistake the demon for a tiefling if not for the panther-esque tail and the large wings that all but blocked out any of the moon's light from the entrance. Even if this was to be his new 'master,' he didn't have to play his games. He knew better now. "Mizora wouldn't have sold my contract if I couldn't be used for violence. So, what is it?"

"Well aren't you a fiery little thing."

Feigne laughed, the sound deep and thoroughly amused, his sharp fangs flashed in the light as he grinned down at the man. He was pleased to see that the blade's reputation for being fierce wasn't all tall tales

"Don't give that bothersome little wench another thought, she's not to bother you anymore." He stretched, wings folding against his back as his tail arched up behind him. "Despite all her bravado, she's a pathetic little thing in the grand scheme of things. I merely gave her the opportunity to grasp a /sliver/ more power and she all but threw your contract at me."