Chapter Text
“So what do you have for us this time, a tarrasque?” Viktor folds his good leg up onto the chair and reaches for the bowl of chips.
Jayce lays out the laminated grid across the length of the table. It’s a bit crammed with all the snacks, notebooks, and dice trays strewn over the surface, but there’s enough space to seat all of the players in their party if they don’t mind getting cozy.
Viktor is perched in his usual seat (furthest from the AC unit, because he is always complaining that they keep the place too cold). He’s swallowed in one of Jayce’s hoodies, the peeling yellow font spelling out the letters of his former college crew team. It’s a normal roommate thing, sharing clothes. At least, that’s what Viktor says every time he steals another one of Jayce’s shirts.
“A tarrasque? Guess you’ll have to find out.” Mel hums, scribbling last-minute notes from behind the unfolded DM screen in front of her, shielding their view of her planning.
Two braids frame her face, falling perfectly from where the rest are tied up into a knot on the top of her head. A soft oversized shirt hangs from one shoulder, and a gold cluster of layered necklaces dangles over her notes where she’s leaned over the table. She is effortlessly stylish, even dressed down like this for a casual game night.
“Mysterious as always, Medarda.” Viktor waves a chip in the air as he speaks with dramatic flair. “That’s why you’re such a good Dungeon Master.”
“You flatter me, Viktor.” She rolls her eyes.
Jayce likes this phase of the night, a pre-session ritual with his two closest friends. Mel is a punctual woman; in fact, she is the only guest who arrives at his and Viktor’s shared apartment at the agreed-upon time every Sunday. It gives the three of them time to catch up and goof off before the game starts. Jayce and Viktor typically talk loudly about their predictions to try and tease a hint out of Mel, but in the history of their almost three years playing together, they haven’t broken her yet.
Caitlyn and Violet, on the other hand, are always late, which is expected of the younger half of their adventuring party. Still teenagers, Jayce often teases, to which Cait always reminds him she’ll be twenty next year with a tone of bitterness.
“What’s a tarrasque?” Jayce asks, settling into his spot across from his roommate.
Viktor and Mel giggle with some sort of shared nerd knowledge.
“Trust me, Jayce,” Viktor leans forward, as if he’s sharing treasured knowledge, “We are definitely not a high enough level for that kind of threat. Our dear Mel wouldn’t put us through a slog of combat like that.”
Jayce really needs to study that fucking Monster Manual more. He’s not used to being so out of the loop on stuff like this, but they’re the ones who introduced him to D&D and have been playing for much longer.
It’s not like he’s bad at playing or anything; it’s just that Jayce likes to be good at things.
Jayce is used to being good at everything he tries. He was captain of his crew team in undergrad, and he set a bunch of school records on the swim team in the off-season, too. He carries his friends in co-op video games, on a PC he built himself. Plus, he still holds the beer pong tournament record at his old frat house, going undefeated on his senior run.
In school, he found success too. Math and science have always come easy, and the only person that could keep up with him was Viktor when they were lab partners in their engineering program. Since then, they’ve been inseparable. Literally— they live together now with a cat and everything.
“Just make sure you’re done leveling up and let me worry about the monsters,” Mel teases.
Viktor concedes and crunches loudly on a handful of chips.
The front door by the adjacent foyer bursts open to reveal the girls they’d been waiting on— a tousle of colorful hair, loudly shouting over each other to explain their lateness.
Caitlyn enters first— a tall, gangly teen with long indigo hair pulled up haphazardly out of her face, sleek blue dice bag in hand. Jayce has known her since he was a little kid, when his single mother worked long hours and Cait’s family was kind enough to take him in after school. When he was old enough, he repaid the favor by spending his free afternoons tutoring her in math.
“I hope you know that Violet ran several red lights trying to get here on time.”
“I did not!”
Violet steps in behind her, slightly shorter with a muscular build. Her vibrant pink hair is shaved into an undercut with the top pushed back out of her face. She swings a backpack off her shoulder and onto the couch with a heavy thud.
Beside her is a new addition: Powder, her 14-year-old sister, who clutches a sheet of paper against her chest excitedly and hops over to the table.
“Mel! I brought it just like you said!” She waves the paper and gets an amused smile of approval from the Dungeon Master.
“Excellent, Powder.” Mel nods. “Do you remember everything we talked about yesterday at your dad’s place?”
“Yep!” Powder grins proudly. “I watched a bunch of videos about the spells and all the features. I promise, you don’t need to go easy on me. At. All.”
“Thanks for including her so last-minute, Mel. My dad insisted I bring her or I’d have to miss the session to stay home and babysit,” Violet says.
Powder makes a face at her sister behind her back, and Viktor chuckles softly.
“It was no problem, I’m happy to have her at the table.” Mel waves Violet off. “We had a nice date at The Last Drop, going over all the character-building stuff. She’s a little spark of creativity, that one”
Violet drops her battered notebook at her spot next to Jayce, and Caitlyn slides in next to Viktor. Powder watches cautiously, until Jayce pats the empty chair at the end of the table, opposite to Mel. She scampers over and begins unpacking her satchel onto the surface in front of her- a notebook, colorful art supplies, and her precious character sheet. Jinx is written in pink across the top, with a doodle of an angry monkey.
They take a minute to settle in, catching up on the events of the week and poking guesses at the impending antics of the session. Viktor is already peeling the plastic film off his second cosmic brownie by the time they’re all properly leveled up and ready to start.
“Alright, alright, just get on with the recap already!” Violet shouts, waving her hand in front of Caitlyn’s character sheet where she won’t stop changing which ability scores she’s increasing.
“First, we should all tell Powder what races and classes we’re playing so she can at least get an idea of the party’s mechanics. We’ll do proper introductions once you all meet each other in the game,” Mel instructs.
Caitlyn speaks up first. “I’m a high elf, inquisitor rogue. I handle the ranged shots and investigations.”
“Tiefling monk. I punch things.” Violet holds her fists up.
“Tiefling…that’s like a devil, right?” Powder asks.
“Yes, tieflings are humanoids with fiendish origins. Many of them have devil-like abilities; for instance, Violet’s character is resistant to fire damage.” Mel explains.
“And I’ve got little horns,” Vi adds, holding two fingers up to her temples for visual effect.
“Suits you,” Powder sneers.
Before Violet can retaliate, Viktor jumps in. “I am a warforged, so I’m made of metal, like a robot. I am also the magic-user of the group because I am a warlock, so I cast spells.”
“And I’m a human paladin,” Jayce says to Powder beside him, “like a knight. I can cast some spells too, but I usually leave that to the Herald.”
Viktor, across from him, flashes a knowing smile.
“I can heal though, if things get rough,” Jayce adds.
Powder nods and scribbles down some notes with a glittery pink gel pen.
Mel addresses the table again. “Alright then, let’s get started.”
“Wait, what about Powder’s character?” Violet frowns.
“You haven’t met her yet. She will introduce herself when she appears in the story,” Mel explains.
Powder shares a mischievous smile across the table. Her tufts of blue hair are decorated with colorful, mismatched clips of all shapes and sizes. Jayce can tell that whatever her character is, they’re certainly going to be a fun addition.
Mel takes a calming breath and exhales, folding her delicate hands behind the DM screen. When she lifts her gaze to the table before her, she’s no longer Mel Medarda, Political Science Master’s Student. She is Mel Medarda, All-Powerful Dungeon Master, Narrator of The Story, Weaver of Fate.
“Last session, The Legends of Runeterra ventured further into the depths of the Chem Baron’s lair to face off with their long-time foe, Silco. He chose to swarm you with his goons to overwhelm your forces, but Sgt. Kiramman kept her eyes on the man that has plagued her nightmares since she first pulled the loose thread on Shimmer Production as a young recruit.”
Jayce whoops and shakes Caitlyn’s shoulder next to him proudly.
Mel continues, “Using the Storm Strike rune that the Defender gifted her before this crucial fight, she sent her crossbow bolt with an arc of lightning right through Silco’s milky eye to finish him off for good!”
The group cheers and clinks their water bottles together, and even Mel slips a proud smile through her serious facade.
“But-” she warns, capturing their attention again.
Jayce glances across the table to Viktor, who’s studying his character sheet carefully, dragging a slender finger down his spell list. Always planning ahead. Always tactical. If Viktor is planning during the recap, there’s bound to be a clue he picked up on last session that his character will share once the game begins.
“-There’s still the threat of the watchful faceless beings you’ve encountered here in the depths of Zaun. You’ve spotted them crawling upwards through the fissures.”
“To Piltover,” Viktor whispers to himself, but audible to the party as they all nod in solemn agreement.
He’s already in character, eyes dark and lidded, head tilted and holding the tension of something sinister within. Jayce is always in awe of the dedication to the performance, motivated to roleplay more seriously himself.
He sits up straight in his chair, channeling the confidence and power of his own character, the Defender.
“They don’t engage in combat. Remember when we tried to fight them on our way down here? Jayce blasted them with his fucking hammer and they didn’t even flinch!” Violet bangs her fist on the table, sending the nearby dice tumbling.
Everyone begins theorizing at once.
“Maybe they’re not a threat.”
“Oh come on-”
“This isn’t Silco!”
“Of course it’s not fucking-”
Mel raises her hand calmly, and the group falls into practiced silence. A respect earned from years of gameplay and trust with the story of the characters they’ve played since they all became friends.
“Legends of Runeterra, you stand in the ruins of The Last Drop, with the corpse of infamous crime lord Silco. Through the window, you spot two figures crawling up the sides of the ravine, white and gold porcelain-doll beings you’ve encountered down here before. They skitter and disappear over the ledge, leaving you in silence.”
The group sits in quiet anticipation, leaning in toward Mel as she smirks. Her gold makeup catches the light of the living room lamp in a way that Jayce imagines could be magical.
“What would you like to do next?”
______.˳·˖✶𓆩⚔𓆪✶˖·˳.______
The streets of Zaun are eerily silent as the Legends of Runeterra trek across the wet cobblestone. Jayce can hear the buzz of the neon signs that reflect against the watery sheen beneath his boots. Between the recent sweeps of corrupt enforcers, brutal attacks from the Chem-Barons, and the new threat of the faceless husks, most of the Zaunites stay hidden in their homes after dark in this part of town.
Zaun is a dark crevice, a wound of Piltover. It’s deep and forgotten down here, and it’s easy to see how quickly Silco was able to grasp at its throat. The city was already choking on its own air.
He’s not a threat anymore, though, and hopefully, without their leader, the rest of the Chem Barons will scurry back to whatever dark place they came from. The city has a chance to recover now, but Jayce fears it will take more than a dead crime lord to solve its problems.
Vi, the brawn of the party, leads the way through the empty streets, her black-streaked hair falling between her shoulder blades in an overgrown mullet. She knows Zaun better than any of them, having grown up here and trained as a pit fighter. The bulk of muscle on her small frame shows her deceptive strength and skill in unarmed combat. Where the blood-stained wrappings on her arms and torso peel, they expose intricate tattoos etched into her skin.
She’s not the only one showing wear from their fight with Silco. Vi wears the blood and bruises proudly, but Sgt. Kiramman, the party’s marksman, walks with a slight limp, the heavy crossbow on her back obviously weighing on her lithe frame. Jayce himself feels drained, less physically than his companions, but he can tell his arcane abilities are waning.
The blue rune embedded on his wrist pulses with a weak glow, a reminder that even a gift from the God of Magic has its limits. It only offers him a finite amount of magic. If he isn’t careful with what remains, soon he’ll be left with only the swing of his greathammer to defend himself.
The Herald, however, their spell-caster, is the only one of them that doesn’t show weakness. Perhaps it’s his mechanical body, purple and shimmering with arcane potential, or the split-faced mask devoid of expression. He wasn’t always like this, Jayce knows that much. He’s mentioned a transformation, an evolution of sorts, but has never freely given the details of his personal story.
Jayce wants to ask, but it’s been one fight to the next. There’s been little time for sharing stories in bars as they once did when they first teamed up together. That was back when Kiramman first shared her suspicions of Piltover’s enforcer corruption, when they had no idea exactly how deep into the fissures the thread would lead them.
“Wait- there’s something up ahead.” Vi signals for them to halt.
Jayce stops in his tracks and holds a hand out in front of the Herald protectively.
The shadows in the alley shift, and a girl slinks around the corner, two long blue braids hanging all the way down to her ankles. She’s small and unsuspecting, but Jayce notices colorful painted grenades and guns hanging from her belt on full display. Never underestimate someone who walks confidently through the streets of Zaun alone.
“Looks like you did my dirty work for me.” Her voice rings out from the shadows with a teasing tone.
“Hands up. We outnumber you four to one.” Kiramman raises her crossbow and stands up straighter in an attempt to mask her injuries from the newcomer.
The girl looks the Sergeant up and down and laughs, eyes flashing a bright violet color.
“When the rest of the Chem-Barons find out what you did to Silco, you’re gonna want all the numbers you can get.” She replies with a sing-songy tone.
“Wait— how do you know what we did to Silco?” Jayce asks.
The girl giggles and swings around a drainage pipe to hop up onto a trash can and perch there, cocking her head like a curious bird. “I’ve been watching. Trying to take him down myself. You guys did great, but you’re in no shape for the ambush up ahead. Word travels fast here.”
“Ambush?” Kiramman repeats.
A mixture of surprise and panic sets into the party instantly. The weight of the news hits Jayce hard— they’re in no shape for another fight right now.
“Yup! But I can help. The name’s Jinx.”
The four of them exchange a quick series of glances. Her offering could be a trap, but if this girl is right, it could mean serious repercussions for them. Their resources are low, and they’re already heavily injured.
Jayce looks over to the Herald, who nods in approval, and that’s all the encouragement he needs to speak up.
“I’m Jayce,” he tells Jinx. “If you’re right, we could use the help.”
Kiramman lowers her crossbow, and Vi unclenches her fists, standing up straighter with newfound trust.
“I’m Vi.”
Jinx scoffs. “Very creative.”
Vi frowns and mutters under her breath, “Stay in character, Jinx.”
“Sure thing, Vi,” Jinx mocks.
Once the rest of the introductions are out of the way, Jinx shares her insight, and the party begins to make plans. According to their new information, there’s at least six Chem Barons waiting down the road to retaliate against the attack on Silco’s lair. They’re armed with acid and poison-coated weapons. Attacks will come from the opposite side of the alley around the corner and from the rooftops overhead.
The plan is simple: Jayce and Vi will take the front line, while the other three spread out and use ranged attacks to pick off the enemies on the roof. The Herald will be able to fly up and flank them from behind.
“Alright, I think we’re ready,” Jayce nods. “Sergeant, can you hide us?”
“It’s my last scroll, but yes. Let’s get the jump on them,” she nods.
She unfurls the roll of parchment on her hip and takes out a small pouch of leaves, placing a couple in her palm. When she reads the scroll’s Elven text, the leaves sparkle and burn to ash.
With a final whisper in her native tongue, pass without trace, Kiramman blows the ash towards the party. Vi watches the magic sparkle in the air as it settles over them, pulling the shadows near and muffling the sound of their steps. She grins.
“Fuck yes.”
______.˳·˖✶𓆩⚔𓆪✶˖·˳.______
It’s a scrappy encounter.
An hour into combat, and they’ve only managed to get rid of one of the Chem-Barons. The other five are scattered across the map on the table, represented by colored candies amongst the hand-painted miniatures of the players’ characters. Two of them have been throwing acid vials from the roof, and three more have surrounded them in the alley.
“That’s uhh… 19 to hit,” Jayce tells Mel.
His mini is posed with a giant hammer in mid-swing, a green chocolate on the grid square in front of it.
“Miss.” Mel winces.
“Are you fucking serious?” Violet groans.
“It’s fine, I’ve still got another try,” Jayce tosses his dice onto the table.
Natural 1. A critical failure.
Everyone at the table stares at the dice in disbelief.
“Tell your god they suck.” Caitlyn snorts.
“I don’t think it works like that.”
“Don’t you have magic?” Violet asks.
“I’m out of spell slots!”
Viktor interrupts, reaching across the table to pick up his mini. “I believe it’s my turn?”
“Please, do something, metal man,” Caitlyn begs.
“I’ve still got Eldritch Blast,” Viktor pats her shoulder and tosses his dice, “for a 22 to hit.”
Mel grins. “Roll your damage, Herald.”
They all watch as Viktor plucks three 10-sided dice from his tray and shakes them together with a satisfying clacking sound, then lets them tumble out of his hand into the middle of the table.
“18 points of force damage, Miss Medarda.” He says proudly.
“That’ll do it.” She nods.
The table cheers, and Viktor beams with excitement across from Jayce.
“So,” he starts, moving his mini into line of sight of the enemy, “The Herald steps out from the shadows, weaving arcane webs between glowing fingers. He watches as The Defender swings his hammer, just out of reach. The Chem-Baron narrowly avoids the impact, ducking with unnatural speed, but he doesn’t see the figure behind him, whispering a sinister spell incantation.”
Powder beside him is watching him narrate with wide eyes, mouth parted in awe. Jayce smiles. Viktor is the best at describing himself in combat.
“With a thunderous bang!” Viktor smacks the table, and they all flinch, “The Herald shoots energy outwards in a straight line towards the Chem-Baron, striking him in the chest before he can lunge at The Defender. He falls on the cobblestone, lifeless.”
Viktor snatches the chocolate and pops it in his mouth.
“The Defender turns in surprise,” Jayce adds, “watching the Chem-Baron fall and lifting his gaze to see The Herald at the end of the alley. He nods in gratitude.”
“The Herald nods back. He would never let The Defender fall in battle.”
“Gay.” Violet coughs.
“Oh shut up, Violet.” Jayce scoffs and tries to shove her out of her chair beside him. She only giggles and jumps up, running into the kitchen to snag another soda from the fridge.
Those kinds of jokes are neverending at the table. Which is fair, because Jayce is pretty much the only straight one in their friend group. But it’s fine, he doesn’t mind it, just because Viktor likes guys doesn't mean they can’t live together and be best friends. It’s totally fine.
“Powder, it’s your turn next,” Mel says.
When Jayce turns to the girl at the end of the table, she’s tracing her spell list with her finger thoughtfully. Unlike the rest of the party, she’s well-rested and doesn’t need to worry about sparing the resources at her disposal.
Her finger lands at the bottom of the spell list, and she taps the word on the paper excitedly. Jayce goes pale when he sees the name of the spell she’s chosen.
Fireball.
______.˳·˖✶𓆩⚔𓆪✶˖·˳.______
Jinx yanks a grenade from her belt and activates its arcane potential as she runs toward the group. The metal jaw screwed onto it begins to chomp rapidly, and the carved eyes glow bright blue.
“Wait, no-!”
Jayce watches as the makeshift grenade flies overhead and then bounces once, twice, before the whole alley is engulfed in blinding, searing heat. The explosion erupts with staggering force, white behind his eyes as the arcane flames lick at his exposed wounds.
It’s over in a flash. There’s a piercing ringing in Jayce’s ears as he leans against the brick wall, hand coming away black with soot. The two men on him just a second ago are now charred corpses crumbling at his feet.
He stumbles backward in shock.
“What did you do?!” Vi yells from across the alley, but it’s muffled and distant as Jayce reels.
Vi’s still up, thank the gods. She’s good at dodging and probably found something to shield her body from the blast of fire.
The Herald still stands at the end of the alley, out of range from the explosion.
Jayce whips his head upwards to where Sergeant Kiramman had perched on the roof just in time to see one of the Chem-Barons kick her burned body backwards.
She lands on the cobblestone with a violent thud.
______.˳·˖✶𓆩⚔𓆪✶˖·˳.______
“I’m down.” Caitlyn sighs and tosses her pencil aside.
“But don’t you have Evasion?” Viktor asks, eyebrows knitting together in concern.
“That’s with Evasion. I was already low.”
“Which is why we never should’ve engaged in this stupid fight!” Violet seethes, turning to Powder next to her, “Are you trying to kill us?”
The blue-haired girl pouts and fiddles with the dice in her borrowed tray. “I just— I thought it would be—”
“It’s okay, Powder.” Jayce offers, ignoring the glare from Violet. “I’m nearby, I can heal her on my next turn.”
Caitlyn perks up and begins counting the squares on the map between their figures. “Yep, I’m just in range.”
“Plus,” Jayce winks, “you totally got both those guys on me. Did you hear Mel? Charred to bits.”
Powder giggles, and the tension at the table eases with the promise of quick heals. Viktor spends his turn finishing off the last Chem-Baron with an eldritch blast, and Jayce easily makes it over to Caitlyn’s fallen character to heal her.
“I’ll use Lay on Hands for uh, 20 points of healing? Is that good?” Jayce instinctively looks across the table to Viktor, who nods with approval.
Mel nods, “The Defender kneels before Sergeant Kiramman and allows his magic to flow between them where his hands rest upon her chest. The mysterious rune embedded in his forearm activates as you’ve seen it before— glowing blue and bright. The webbed markings on his skin appear to shimmer as the Sergeant’s wounds close, not all the way, but she’s no longer at death’s door. Her eyes flutter back open.”
“Let’s go!” Violet fist pumps.
Once combat is wrapped up, they spend some time looting. Unfortunately, the fireball grenade ruined most of the potential findings, but there are a few fallen enemies outside of the blast radius with a handful of gold on them. Nothing close to the shit they got from Silco’s lair in the previous session, though.
“That explosion probably attracted attention. We should try and get out of here before we get ambushed again.” Caitlyn says.
“Where do we go, though?” Viktor asks, “The streets are not safe; we cannot exactly take another fight in this state. We need to rest.”
“Vi, you grew up here. Go ahead and make a history check with advantage.” Mel prompts.
Violet plucks a shiny black d20 from her tray and shakes it in her hand, then releases it. She notes the number and checks her character sheet for modifiers before cheerfully reporting, “That’s an 18!”
“While you could make it back to the same elevator shaft you used in your descent from the Upper City, that requires cutting straight through the crowded streets of The Lanes. You do, however, remember rumors of a temple that Janna worshippers used to keep. It would be long abandoned now, and a safe place to rest for the night.”
“Fuck yes,” Violet cracks her knuckles, “alright gang, follow me.”
______.˳·˖✶𓆩⚔𓆪✶˖·˳.______
The temple is deep into the vent system that connects Piltover and Zaun, but with Vi’s knowledge of the city and Sgt. Kiramman’s keen eyes, it’s not long before they step over the threshold into the once sacred space. The tunnel opens up into a huge room with stone columns and an abandoned altar up on a crumbling pedestal across from the entrance.
On the wall facing them, a large mural of a crowned woman holding a staff looms over them. The paint is long faded, but her eyes still hold a faint blue pigment that reminds Jayce of the rune he carries on his skin. Her presence, even in this crude form, commands an undeniable arcane respect.
“This is Janna?” Jayce asks, unable to mask the utter wonder in his voice. He’s always been fascinated by magic, especially the beings powerful enough to grant it. “I don’t know much about her.”
“Figures. You’re a Piltie, you’ve always had clean air to breathe.” Vi comments, dropping her bag on a dry patch away from the dripping pipes overhead.
The Herald moves to stand next to Jayce, also admiring the mural.
“Janna is a Wind Goddess. The Zaunites pray to her for protection to blow the smog away and bring cleaner air to the city.” He explains plainly. “Clerics and Paladins of Janna are not only healers, but bringers of change. Hope for the less fortunate.”
“Oh,” Jayce breathes, “I didn’t take you for the type to be interested in deities."
“I am not a being of divine magic, like you, but I still respect a protector of my people.”
“Your people?” Jayce raises his eyebrows in surprise. “You’re from here? From Zaun?”
The Herald nods, but offers no further clarification. Jayce should ask him. It might finally be the right time to–
“Hey!” Kiramman yells, raising her weapon towards Jinx. “I thought we were working together.”
Jinx holds up her hands and pouts. “I was just having a little fun.”
Jayce sighs and runs a hand down his face. “What happened?”
“She’s trying to pickpocket me!”
“Don’t be so mean! It’s just a game!” Jinx panics, confident demeanor completely falling away in place of a childlike offense in her eyes.
“Fighting does us no good.” The Herald approaches with a commanding voice, and everyone turns to face him. “We need rest. Our collective goal, if there still is one, can be decided in the morning.”
The girls don’t argue with the Herald’s logic. The Sergeant drops her weapon, and Vi lowers herself onto her bedroll with a dramatic groan. Even Jinx seems to let it go for now, sitting and tucking her knees under her chin.
“I’ll take the first watch, you guys go ahead and get some rest.” Jayce volunteers, noticing the fatigue in their eyes from the back-to-back fighting.
They don’t protest. However, when Jayce walks towards the wide tunnel entrance to post up with a better line of sight, he hears the unmistakable sound of metal footsteps following behind him.
“You need rest too,” he mutters without turning around.
The Herald moves to sit beside him anyway, ignoring the statement.
“I need significantly less than you organic creatures. I will accompany you on this watch until I require stasis,” he says, voice echoing down the tunnel.
“I’ve taken watches alone before,” Jayce reminds him, although he doubts it will change the Herald’s mind. He’s a rather stubborn thing.
It’s silent for a moment before his companion speaks again. “Yes, but now I have something to tell you, and only you.”
Jayce turns to him, intrigued. He and the Herald do share a closer bond than the rest of the party from their time adventuring, but it’s only natural. Jayce takes a lot of heat in their battles, and the Herald keeps him safe. It’s a partnership of sorts.
This feels different, though, more personal. The strange man of magic and metal now wears a very human vulnerability.
“Is something wrong?” Jayce asks on instinct.
“I am not sure yet,” the Herald replies, “but I fear what we’re chasing may have a somewhat personal connection to me.”
“How so?”
The Herald sighs. “We intend to hunt down these faceless beings— husks, as you call them, yes?”
“I mean, yeah. Aren’t you curious about what they are? Where they’re going?”
“I am,” the Herald provides, “more than any of us. I suspect we may share a connection with the source of my arcane abilities.”
He has never heard the Herald disclose information like this before. His metallic companion has always been mysterious, but Jayce and the others assumed that’s just how he is: a magical, inorganic lifeform with a purpose of protecting those around him. Jayce has never found the time to ask how he came to be. Guilt eats at him for not asking sooner.
“The source? Do you know the source?”
“I was not always this way, Jayce.”
“What– what are you talking about?”
“I am more than I ever was.” The Herald reaches up to cradle his own jaw, where a replica of a split human face is depicted on either side. In a moment of horror, Jayce thinks he’s about to lift his own head off his body entirely, but the Herald’s purple fingers find purchase on the edges of something.
A mask.
The metal front hisses and falls away, revealing something new underneath.
Jayce gasps softly. A face. The Herald has a face.
Not the glowing beady eyes on the front of an expressionless, triangular skull, but a human face, with pale skin and soft features. Long shoulder-length locks frame his cheeks, brown that fades to gold blonde on the ends. Amber eyes, thin lips, scars, eyelashes. All of the parts he was missing, he’s had all along.
The purple metal climbs up his collarbones and neck but gives way to scarred skin, iridescent in some places but still undoubtedly human.
“Holy shit, Viktor-”
The Herald’s new face warps into a playful scold.
“Shit, I mean-” Jayce laughs nervously, “God— gods, you look amazing. You’re human! I had no idea-”
“We all have our faults, Jayce.” The Herald frowns, the shame of his humanity showing through.
“Faults? No, no— I like it. I do.” Jayce smiles and puts his hand over the Herald’s, where it still holds the mask.
Now Jayce can see the bashful expression the Herald wears when the compliment hits him. It’s an adrenaline rush of new feedback.
“I am sorry I kept this from you.”
“You’re showing me now. But I— I’m sorry, I don’t know if— can I ask?”
“What I am?” The Herald smiles— he smiles— and seems to relax now that Jayce has not recoiled in betrayal. “I do not know. I was human, but I do not think I am that anymore. Warforged, not entirely either. Somewhere between the definitions of organic and inorganic. Natural and arcane. It is within me.”
“How?” Jayce asks, fascinated.
“I wanted to supersede my nature. Who I was before it was not enough. I studied at the academy as a wizard— a good one— but my physical form had limitations. I wanted to evolve, to resurrect myself into something new. That’s when It came to me.”
“It?”
“The Anomaly. It started small, unsuspecting. Gifts here and there, tantalizing powers I couldn’t access from simple tomes. But then…”
Jayce watches the Herald recount with wide eyes.
“It changed me.” He reaches his purple hand of metal and magic out to where a slow drip of water from above hits his palm. “I was able to resist its attempt to dominate my mind, but my body was not so lucky. I fear I am not the only one who was called, but the others may not have been so lucky.”
It takes a moment for the Herald’s word to fully sink in. “Wait, you mean— the husks? They’re people?”
“They were. But I do not believe they are anymore.”
It’s silent in the camp for a moment as the two bear the weight of what that means. The continuous drip of the cave moisture echoes all around as the others lay fast asleep on their bedrolls by the abandoned altar.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“The closer we get to this Anomaly, the more I can feel its grasp on my mind. I do not know if my fate is to become a mindless husk, bending to the will of the arcane. If that happens-”
“It won’t. Vik-” Jayce falters, “I mean, uh, I’ll make sure you stay with us, okay?”
“I do not know if that is a promise you can make.”
“I don’t care.” Jayce shakes his head. “I won’t fail. I swear it.”
The Herald wears an unreadable expression. For so long, his face was masked, and now there are quirks Jayce desperately wants to learn to decipher. A twitch at the corner of his mouth, a bend in his brow— it’s bittersweet and sentimental. He looks like there’s something he wants to say, but his mouth remains a hard line.
“Are you guys gonna kiss or what?”
Jayce turns to Vi back in the camp behind them. “You’re asleep!”
______.˳·˖✶𓆩⚔𓆪✶˖·˳.______
“Someone has to break the tension,” Violet responds, reaching for a handful of chips and crunching them loudly as Caitlyn giggles across from her.
“Tension?” Jayce asks, looking between her and Viktor.
“Oh, c’mon, you guys are always like that on watch.”
“I like it,” Caitlyn adds with a smile. “It’s romantic.”
Viktor is blushing fiercely and avoiding eye contact. Fuck, is this making things weird?
“It’s not like that!” Jayce defends, feeling heat rise to his own face. Sure, he’s used to the jokes, but seeing Viktor embarrassed fills him with panic. He’s usually the first to shrug off the teasing from the girls. Does everyone really think they were flirting?
“Jayce,” Viktor finally speaks up, his voice softer now, nothing like the calculated tone of the Herald, “it’s just a game. It’s fine.”
It is not fine, not in the slightest. Not with the way Viktor is shrinking in his chair.
“If you two are finishing up your watch, go ahead and make a perception check,” Mel instructs.
Jayce tries to ignore the way the girls are snickering and tosses his dice into the tray.
“Uh, seven? Can I roll with advantage since the Herald is helping?”
“Sure.”
Jayce rolls a second die. “Okay, that’s a little better. Thirteen.”
He risks a glance across from him to Viktor. He meets anxious eyes that dart away quickly. Fuck.
“Thirteen, okay.” Mel checks something behind the screen. “You complete your watch without any interruptions. The temple is quiet, spare the occasional scurry of rats. You can all take a successful long rest.”
“Yes!” Violet fist pumps and immediately dives to reset her hit points.
“And I think that’s a good stopping point for tonight. We’ll pick up next time, navigating the sewer system back to Piltover.”
Jayce doesn’t risk another look at Viktor. He doesn’t dare.
With the session officially concluded, the table doesn’t take long to pack up and evenly distribute leftover food to take home. Powder shares that she’s grateful to have a seat at the table, but she still seems to be treading carefully about the fireball mishap, especially around Viktor and Mel, as the oldest members of the party.
Viktor takes it upon himself to scoot his chair closer and help her reset her character sheet, and whatever they end up whispering about seems to put her in a chipper mood again. When Violet ushers her out the door along with Caitlyn and Mel, she skips over and gives a cheerful wave back to his seat, where he’s waving back fondly.
“Didn’t know you were so good with kids,” Jayce comments once the two of them are alone again.
“I was her age when I started playing.” Viktor shrugs and closes his notebook. “I just want to make this space as welcoming as it was for me when I was younger.”
“That’s sweet,” Jayce replies, and he feels his heart flutter just like it did in their scene together earlier. Viktor is acting like himself again, which is a relief.
It’s not a secret that Jayce is fond of Viktor. Of course he is, they’re best friends, and they live together. Even back when they were academic rivals, he was secretly totally fascinated by the older biomed major. He’s used to the way people tease him about it.
Still, with the way Viktor reacted to Violet’s comment tonight, a temperature check wouldn’t hurt. He doesn’t want some game to ruin their friendship or make things weird.
“Hey uh, about the session tonight-”
“It’s fine, Jayce, it’s just a game.” Viktor interrupts, like he also had the same thing on his mind.
“Oh- uh, yeah. I didn’t want you to feel weird.” Jayce scratches the back of his neck nervously.
“It’s not weird.” Viktor picks at the edges of his notebook. “Friends romance each other in D&D all the time. It’s part of the fun.”
“Romance?” Jayce coughs, feeling heat surge to his face.
“If your character has feelings for the Herald, there’s nothing wrong with playing that out. It’s just roleplay, Jayce. Doesn’t have to mean anything.”
Jayce reels. Does his character have… feelings?
The Herald is pretty cool. He’s definitely the character that Jayce finds himself siding with or protecting the most in-game. Initially, he thought that was because he and Viktor are such close friends, but… maybe it’s a romance thing.
Viktor seems unfazed, and he did say it’s a normal part of the game. Viktor has been playing much longer than Jayce.
Jayce can be cool about this. The Defender can be gay, he’s just a character.
“Right.” He nods. “We can, like, see where it goes, I guess.”
Viktor’s frame bends with a quiet exhale. “Cool. Yeah, I guess we’ll see next session.”
“Next session.” Jayce agrees.
Oh fuck, Jayce panics internally, did I just agree to be my best friend’s D&D character’s boyfriend?