Post by Zola Rhomdaen on Sept 17, 2022 8:07:59 GMT
Two goddesses who were one.
Two goddesses, diametrically opposed.
Two warriors, champions of the quarrelling goddesses, lifelong enemies…
…and they’re resolving their differences over tea next time?
Pela Fortuna, paladin of Tymora, is the luckiest woman who’s ever lived. Every time she’s in a pinch (or when she does anything at all, really), Tymora sorts her out. This time, the Luckmaiden sent Kelnè Greenleaf and other adventurers to save her from someone invading her golden, palatial home in a private corner of the Nine Hells.
Petch Unglück, paladin of Beshaba, a black cat tabaxi. Pela Fortuna’s former childhood friend and current archnemesis. When she and Fortuna meet in battle, their aura of fortune and aura of misfortune cancel each other out. For fear of losing her good luck, Fortuna goes through all the lengths to avoid fighting Petch head-on.
Zola couldn’t — and still can’t — wrap her head around that. Why wouldn’t you want to risk everything and engage your gods-appointed rival in a duel to the death?
Well, no matter. Even if Pela Fortuna was too chicken to face her destiny, Petch seemed quite keen on it. That was good enough for Zola to ride into battle with The Twins and her spirit shroud against the tricksy Petch and her displacer beasts.
However, a few spells, punches, and a smite later, Petch was…surrendering? Zola gaped confusedly at the tabaxi as she laid down her daggers, then looked to the spirit of Ophanim, who silently shrugged in response. Guess most other holy warriors simply aren’t as dedicated as they were.
Kelnè persuaded Petch and Pela to patch things up (Petch things up…?) over drinks. They agreed to give it a try, albeit a little begrudgingly. And just like that, this centuries-old rivalry came to an end. Zola came out of the Hells that day feeling quite puzzled.
She finds Jaezred on a quiet afternoon in the Winds, not gossiping with other rich folk over drinks as usual, but rather enjoying a book of Elvish poetry with a glass of white wine.
She plops down into the chair next to him, gripping the backrest with both hands. “Is it true that I’m famous now?” she asks.
He lowers his book. “What on earth are you talking about?”
“Have you ever been to Granny Gunk’s Social Club in Swampside? Probably not, you seem a little too fancy for that. Anyway, Granny Gunk knew exactly who I was the moment she saw me, and she knew the names of my swords too! And I’ve never even met her before! I guess that means I’m famous in Daring Heights now?”
“Ah, well, I suppose you didn’t notice the huge wall of adventurer portraits whilst you were there,” he says with a chuckle. “Granny Gunk reveres every single adventurer in this town. I would not take her knowing about someone as an indicator of their fame.”
“Oh,” she says simply, her shoulders slumping a little.
“But at the same time,” he continues before she can dwell on her disappointment, “I would not be surprised if you have rightfully gotten recognition as the Dawnlands’ premier devil hunter.”
Devil hunter?
Zola shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “I’m… I’m not a hunter of anyone or anything. I just protect people.”
“If you say so. I just thought that was what you were aiming for with the Infernal lessons.”
“N-no… That’s not…” she stutters as she shrinks away from him. “That’s not why I’m learning Infernal.”
Jaezred pauses, his red eyes — so reminiscent of a devil she once knew — searching her face. “My apologies. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“It’s… It’s fine.”
He gives her a long, curious look before returning to his book. An awkward silence hangs in the air between them.
“Oh, by the way!” Zola suddenly exclaims, as if just remembering something important. “Pipper’s making a toy model of me!”
“Is that so? Well, I’ll be sure to buy it when it’s done,” he replies without looking up from the book.
Her face breaks into a happy grin, and she is back in her cheerful, ignorant mood.
Two goddesses, diametrically opposed.
Two warriors, champions of the quarrelling goddesses, lifelong enemies…
…and they’re resolving their differences over tea next time?
Pela Fortuna, paladin of Tymora, is the luckiest woman who’s ever lived. Every time she’s in a pinch (or when she does anything at all, really), Tymora sorts her out. This time, the Luckmaiden sent Kelnè Greenleaf and other adventurers to save her from someone invading her golden, palatial home in a private corner of the Nine Hells.
Petch Unglück, paladin of Beshaba, a black cat tabaxi. Pela Fortuna’s former childhood friend and current archnemesis. When she and Fortuna meet in battle, their aura of fortune and aura of misfortune cancel each other out. For fear of losing her good luck, Fortuna goes through all the lengths to avoid fighting Petch head-on.
Zola couldn’t — and still can’t — wrap her head around that. Why wouldn’t you want to risk everything and engage your gods-appointed rival in a duel to the death?
Well, no matter. Even if Pela Fortuna was too chicken to face her destiny, Petch seemed quite keen on it. That was good enough for Zola to ride into battle with The Twins and her spirit shroud against the tricksy Petch and her displacer beasts.
However, a few spells, punches, and a smite later, Petch was…surrendering? Zola gaped confusedly at the tabaxi as she laid down her daggers, then looked to the spirit of Ophanim, who silently shrugged in response. Guess most other holy warriors simply aren’t as dedicated as they were.
Kelnè persuaded Petch and Pela to patch things up (Petch things up…?) over drinks. They agreed to give it a try, albeit a little begrudgingly. And just like that, this centuries-old rivalry came to an end. Zola came out of the Hells that day feeling quite puzzled.
⚔️🌙⚔️
She finds Jaezred on a quiet afternoon in the Winds, not gossiping with other rich folk over drinks as usual, but rather enjoying a book of Elvish poetry with a glass of white wine.
She plops down into the chair next to him, gripping the backrest with both hands. “Is it true that I’m famous now?” she asks.
He lowers his book. “What on earth are you talking about?”
“Have you ever been to Granny Gunk’s Social Club in Swampside? Probably not, you seem a little too fancy for that. Anyway, Granny Gunk knew exactly who I was the moment she saw me, and she knew the names of my swords too! And I’ve never even met her before! I guess that means I’m famous in Daring Heights now?”
“Ah, well, I suppose you didn’t notice the huge wall of adventurer portraits whilst you were there,” he says with a chuckle. “Granny Gunk reveres every single adventurer in this town. I would not take her knowing about someone as an indicator of their fame.”
“Oh,” she says simply, her shoulders slumping a little.
“But at the same time,” he continues before she can dwell on her disappointment, “I would not be surprised if you have rightfully gotten recognition as the Dawnlands’ premier devil hunter.”
Devil hunter?
Zola shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “I’m… I’m not a hunter of anyone or anything. I just protect people.”
“If you say so. I just thought that was what you were aiming for with the Infernal lessons.”
“N-no… That’s not…” she stutters as she shrinks away from him. “That’s not why I’m learning Infernal.”
Jaezred pauses, his red eyes — so reminiscent of a devil she once knew — searching her face. “My apologies. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“It’s… It’s fine.”
He gives her a long, curious look before returning to his book. An awkward silence hangs in the air between them.
“Oh, by the way!” Zola suddenly exclaims, as if just remembering something important. “Pipper’s making a toy model of me!”
“Is that so? Well, I’ll be sure to buy it when it’s done,” he replies without looking up from the book.
Her face breaks into a happy grin, and she is back in her cheerful, ignorant mood.
