*P.A SYSTEM SOUND*

*P.A SYSTEM SOUND*

STOP GIVING THE FUCKING TOYS WEED!!!

Durgetash fluff!

I wanted to just do some doodles of them but it turned out into unconventional ways they'd take care of eachother - such as drugging your insomniac partner to make sure they get some rest, or threatening violence if your equally insomniac partner refuses to stop tinkering with his machines at 4am, or just holding them underwater to wash blood from their murder cult activities off of them.

Partner obviously meaning a business partner. Obviously.

full image under cut

@snowybluewolfig THANKYOU FOR THE FREE FOOD AND PATS FRIEND WE APPRECIATE IT!

heye every one.

Progeny of Raphael

He saw the gaggle of other adventurers standing at the poolside looking anxious before he looked through to the bed and saw the tiefling. They lay out on the red bedspread while Haarlep stalked around, his wings, Raphael’s wings, held proudly aloft.

He couldn’t hear what the incubus was saying but felt flesh against his palm and then the brush of a hand across his lips.

He hurried through the boudoir, rounding the opposite side of the pool so as not to push past the adventuring party. He heard them shout when they noticed him, and they followed him into the bedroom shortly after.

Haarlep had climbed onto the bed and was positioning himself above the tiefling when Raphael grabbed him by the wings and shoulder, drug him, writhing, across the floor to the balcony, and threw him over toward the Styx far below. “You mucedinous bastard!” He cursed the cackling incubus.

He watched Haarlep fall just a moment. If he were smart, he’d stay away for some time. If he were smarter, still, he’d hit the ground with enough force to end both their suffering.

As he came back into the House, Raphael took the thick, velvet curtain covering the balcony door, pulled back with a gold silk rope, in hand and wrenched the fabric down from the high ceiling. He deflected the falling rod with his other hand, sending it, too, over the balcony. He threw the large curtain over the tiefling that still lay on the bed, frozen in shock by what had transpired.

Raphael straightened his tunic and ran a hand through his hair, not able to see himself but sure it had become mussed when he’d wrestled the incubus. “Gods may indulge in such depravities, but I am more civilized.”

Though the audience of adventurers had drawn their weapons and readied their spells, the spawn managed to quip, “A devil afraid of sex?”

Raphael levelled a droll stare at the vampireling. “I invented many of the tricks that you yourself employ, which make you such an effective hunter for your Master, spawn.” The vampire shifted uncomfortably, though his well-practiced smile remained on his lips.

With a snap of his fingers, Raphael pulled the Tav’s discarded clothes from the infernal tiefling’s grasp, causing them to reappear on the still bed-bound mortal’s lap. “Dress yourself,” he commanded, not looking in their direction.

“What are you doing here?” the infernal tiefling demanded, her now-free hands wrenching tight around the hilt of the axe that, for the moment, hung over her shoulder, ready to be wielded.

The devil laughed at her. “What am I doing in my House?

“I ought to be asking you all the same question. You didn’t take my deal earlier.” He risked stealing a glance to his side and stifled the relieved sigh when the tiefling, now fully dressed, clambered off of his bed. They slunk over to the rest of their party, keeping their eyes on Raphael. “Uninvited and unannounced.

“If you would like to reconsider, I was waiting for you somewhere much easier to visit.”

“Did you throw him off the balcony?” Tav asked, looking out where he’d disposed of the disgusting incubus.

“You sullied his masturbatory aid,” the vampire murmured as if the thought had come to mind and he hadn’t been able to stop himself from speaking the words aloud.

Raphael began to move toward them, amused as they each tensed and readied themselves for a potential attack. “You can't sully and incubus. They are depravity incarnate.

"Any other of you are welcome to indulge yourself in Haarlep’s multitude of charms and talents.

“If you’d like, I can summon him back as easy as that,” Raphael snapped, flames bursting from his fingertips a moment, “assuming he took flight before the ground obliterated him.

“I could still summon him otherwise, but – the mess –”

He disappeared before reappearing behind the band of adventurers, nearer to the boudoir entrance. They whirled around in unison, keeping him in their sight. “And, Tav, you’re welcome to use this space with any of your friends if this,” he gestured around them, “is what gets you going. You’re already here, so you’d might as well.

“But you cannot use my incubus. My visage.

“Now,” Raphael crossed his arms, “surely there are better places to discuss your intrusion. I am nothing if not a good host.”

The sorry band followed him obediently, a line of sad ducklings, out of the boudoir and back into the archive. The Hammer remained in place. He waved the archivist out, watching the fiend dutifully and silently depart. He’d alerted Raphael as soon as he’d sent the party on their way to the boudoir.

Raphael stood near the Hammer, protected still by its orb, and indicated it with a wave of his hand. “If this is what you’ve come here for, you only had to ask.” He looked directly at Tav, leading the group despite their small stature and smaller reputation. His eyes searched their features, trying to pick out those most familiar to him.

Tav held up their hands. “I want to know what exactly happened back there.”

“I can assure you, you don’t,” Raphael said matter-of-factly.

“If you can’t start being upfront, devil,” the infernal fiend growled, and she began to glow with heat.

He looked around at the other faces that had followed this one unremarkable mortal, Tav, into the heart of his domain. They had inspired such companionship and comradery. They almost radiated with ambition.

Raphael moved away from the precious artefact and took a few steps toward Tav, cocking his head and studying their features more as he drew near. “Do you know why I offered you the deal and not one of your illustrious friends?

“Any one of them would have been a better client from where I’m standing.”

He looked first to the gith girl. It had been a long time since he’d dealt with a gith, and now they seemed to be everywhere. “The most obvious, Lae’zel of Creche K’liir.

“You would do, give, just about anything for this Hammer – for your prince’s freedom, wouldn’t you?” Raphael laughed, “You’d happily hand over the Crown and lay yourself on your own blade if I asked, as long as it meant your prince was free.” He raised an eyebrow at the sad, almost embarrassed expression on the gith’s face. “Don’t be ashamed. Your devotion is admirable.

“No race breeds and uses child soldiers to such affect as the gith."

The infernal fiend continued to burn, so Raphael turned his attention next on to her. “Karlach Cliffgate. You are already a fearsome commander. One of the best Zariel has ever had, I’d wager.” His smile widened when she took a menacing step toward him, before being held back by the staff of her wizard friend. “Your body was sold to Zariel, but your soul is ultimately still yours to sell. Die as you are now, and she’ll claim you. But were you to give yourself to me –

“There are more powerful devils, who would become much more powerful still with your help, who could make your life, and death, less – Hellish – as it were.

“And I’m sure your little visit to my House is giving you a much-needed break from that heart of yours. When I have the Crown, and when I rule the Hells, there will be lofty stations to be filled by commanders as experienced and fiery as yourself.

"And I'd give you a much-needed upgrade."

Next, on to the wizard. He’d heard much of this wizard over the years. His skill with and mastery over magic had been almost ingrained into his being. Of course, he’d caught the attention of the goddess. Raphael wasn’t sure that this Mystra puppetted the human out of love and affection – or fear. “We cannot forget the Gale Dekarios, arch,” he paused, chuckling, “ex-archwizard.

“You, out of anyone here, know exactly the might of the Crown. You, out of anyone here, truly understand what someone capable of properly wielding it could do. For the Hells, of course, to end the Bloodwar. But, then, who else could have their lives bettered?

“You also know too well what it is to fall from grace. Thankfully, you haven’t brought anyone down along with you – yet. But, like another foolish human who tried to play with Netherese magic, you’re a risk to everyone within a league of you.

“You may not be capable of wielding the Crown itself, and surely you aren’t foolish enough to even attempt it, but your expertise would be greatly and gratefully appreciated. Even gods need an arch wizard or two.” Raphael met the wizard’s gaze. He wasn’t as aggressive as the tiefling or the gith, but seemed just as upset by Raphael’s words.

“Astarion Ancunin.” The vampire shifted nervously at the sound of his own name. He knew how weak he was to temptation. “You don’t have much to offer me, in truth. But, I have much to offer you in return for the Crown, and trust in your determination to deliver.

“You’ve already denied my father his promise of 7,000 souls.” Raphael chuckled at the thought of Mephistopheles raging. “You may be glad to know that he claimed your old Master’s soul promptly and is, no doubt, giving dear Cazador his just rewards.

“Outgrowing the shadow of your maker is no easy feat. I know. Yet you’ve done so quite admirably. But you still want power, don’t you? Not power you’ve stolen from someone unworthy of having it – power you earned yourself. You denied embracing what your Master wanted to mold you into. You could become what you want to be. I will soon have the power to reward you that in spades.

“Now, if Mephistopheles, archdevil, could give Cazador Szarr his “Rite of Profane Ascension” and birth a new, more powerful of your kind – imagine what a devil god could give you.

“Perhaps you’d make the Vampire Ascendant look no more than a spawn. Or – maybe you’d prefer to grow old and live out your life, alive once more?”

Raphael gave a sheepish smile to the final two companions. “Wyll Ravenguard. Son of the famed Grand Duke Ulder Ravenguard. I don’t have much to offer you, not that your soul is up for the taking, anyway. It’s really rather unfortunate that our paths hadn’t crossed sooner. Talk to Korilla, and you’ll see that I treat my warlocks quite favorably.

“Besides, whatever deal I did suggest, even if you could accept my patronage, you’d probably decline. You’ve already shown yourself to be righteous to a fault.

“But, I could offer you a modicum of freedom. There will be no Mizora or even Zariel to be beholden to when the Crown is safely in my possession.

“And Jenevelle Hallowleaf. Or do you prefer Shadowheart? A pawn in the ongoing squabble between the sisters, Shar and Selûne. As much as my heart truly aches for your plight, I’ve already played that game.

“I threw quite a wrench into dear Shar’s plans a century past. I also got a pesky orthon out of my hair in the process. If I could cause so much trouble for them then imagine what we could do with the Crown. Vengeance is a dish best served hot.”

Raphael preferred to speak the truth more frequently than lies. So often, truth was the more devastating weapon. Here, truths were creating a gnawing hunger behind the eyes of those he’d already rightfully called out.

He looked finally back to the tiefling, leading the pack. “But, I offered you the Hammer. You have your soul, of course, but that’s about it – and we’ve already discussed how unfulfilling that would be.

“The Crown is ever in your grasp, that’s true. But, your compatriots have that to give and more.

“Really, I offered you the Hammer at a loss. Call me sentimental.”

He looked between those assembled, enjoying the various emotions that overtook their features. They did their best to hide them, but with his keen senses, from his eyes, to his ears hearing their racing hearts, to the smell of their anxiety, they could hide nothing from him.

“Sentimental about what?” Tav asked.

They hadn’t put the pieces together yet. Raphael sighed to himself. “Your mother. She is a tiefling?”

“I—I assume so,” Tav said, shrinking a bit into themselves.

“You assume so?”

“The woman who raised me is human.” Their voice was defensive. It wasn’t uncommon for tiefling children to be left on their own for whatever terrible reason or another. So often, their kind were made refugees and at the mercy of the other races. “I was adopted.”

“Is that what she told you?” He raised his eyebrows. When Tav didn’t speak again Raphael snapped his fingers, producing a rolled parchment in his grasp. He carefully unbound the lace that held it and unrolled it, reading Tav’s mother’s name from the page. “Correct?”

Tav craned their neck as if the slight shift in perspective may allow them to read the contract in Raphael’s grasp, but didn’t move any closer. “That’s my mother,” they confirmed, speaking slowly as if looking for a trap. “The woman who raised me, at least.”

“Mortals are odd.” Raphael snapped the contract away again. It would be stored in a safe place amongst the shelves of others he’d collected over the millennia. “Many of you have this – instinct – to mate and reproduce. You’re born because your parents followed this need and their parents before them.

“Even at the risk of life and limb, like animals, you reproduce.

“Your mother was no different. She’d tried to have children. She had either failed to fall pregnant or had lost the child well before birth. You have older siblings, do you not? She’d adopted in the past, but that wasn’t enough to feed this instinct. She was barren but desperate.

“She was sent my way,” Raphael considered the name and the part-fiend standing before him, trying to remember exactly which mortal it had been and where he’d met with her. “She wasn’t the first client I’d provided such a service to – a midwife had seen how effective my treatments were and was always recommending me.

“I did my work polymorphed as a tiefling so as not to arouse too much suspicion from bystanders when the miraculous children emerged looking – well, like yourself. The midwife probably had her suspicions.” Raphael smiled at the thought. He wasn’t sure he’d ever even met the woman who so often sent clients his way.

“The mothers always knew, of course. They had to know in order to sign the contracts. I could have tricked them, I suppose, but I have integrity.”

The barbarian snorted, and Raphael couldn’t help but smile at her. She didn’t have to agree.

“You’re lying,” Tav said, sounding sure of themselves. They looked around to their companions, searching for support.

“Is it that hard to believe? You're a Mephistopheles tiefling, and I am Mephistopheles' son. And, I don’t really gain anything from weaving you such a tale. You asked why I threw the incubus over the balcony. This is why.

“You are my child – and that is disgusting. I suppose if that is some – fetish – of yours – your mother must still be in good health, as I don’t recall seeing her soul among my indebted—”

“That’s enough!” Mizora’s warlock interjected, taking a step forward and partially shielding Tav from Raphael.

Raphael held up his hands. “It’s not an image I enjoy creating. As I said, it falls more under the purview of all manner of gods.”

“Did this ‘incubus’ not look like the devil?” the gith asked, directing her question to the wizard. She probably looked to him often to explain the various foreign people and things she’d experienced in Faerun.

Raphael laughed at her question. “Yes. Was this your own astute observation, or did he announce it? He does like to brag.” He crossed his arms again, continuing to study those before him. “It’s one thing to sleep with one’s own visage. And incubi have an intriguing ability to project sensation through whatever form they’re in onto the true being.” He shrugged. “Twice the pleasure and none of the work. That is exactly how I prefer my deals to go.

“Which, while the idea,” he shuddered, “of my child laying with someone wearing my skin is repulsive, having to feel it would be worse.”

“So why not just give me the Hammer, then? Why not help me?” Tav demanded. Maybe their mother had coddled them too much growing up. She would probably pamper and fuss over the adult tiefling still.

Raphael laughed at them. “Your being of my blood doesn’t make you that special. A devil always gets his due. Though my – fondness – for you has me inclined to give you a slight discount.

“Remember, you are just one of many whelps. You just happen to be one in the right place at the right time to give me what I want. In return, I’ll give you what you need to survive this whole ordeal. Should you fail – I shan’t weep for you.

“Though I am impressed by all that you’ve accomplished thus far. And that fascination is developing into a twinge of – pride – knowing that such brilliance is spawned of my seed.”

“Gross,” the infernal tiefling gagged.

Raphael smirked. Ten years on the front lines of Zariel’s war hadn’t dampened the tiefling’s spirit.

He strode over to the group, absently touching each of them as he pushed past them and left the archive. “I really am enjoying this little discussion, but, unfortunately, I’m a very busy man, especially as of late.

“I suppose you’re welcome to visit,” he levelled his gaze on Tav. “Fathers ought not to have favorites, but I daresay you’re mine. Do write first. Or call? I can teach you a spell that can connect us, but I can’t promise always to answer.”

He snapped his fingers, feeling the pull of the portal as he and the seven guests were whisked out of Avernus and put into the mortal realm. “As much as I love entertaining my clients, I do so loathe uninvited guests.”

The adventurers looked around themselves, now standing in the small brothel room that he’d rented in Sharess's Caress. “As I said before, when you’re ready to reconsider my offer, I’ll be waiting here.”