#“find nere find nere find nere” GREAT. WHERE.

[sunnysduet]

unreasonably frustrated again with bg3's general lack of telling me where the fuck to go so i'm gonna actually make dinner now (whoops) and go back to writing my bloodweave fic

[browneyedartist01]

My thoughts during the final hour of acomaf:

(Bare in mind that I notched up the speed to 1.5 then 1.75, and these thoughts are not in order)

-"You don't need proof that it works, I'm proof that it works-"

Weren't you made by high lords?

-"I will destroy your court."

And I will hate you. More so than I already do

-"He held out his hand like I was some pet."

"Come home."

My thoughts:

"Come home with me."

"Who are you?"

"The man whose gonna marry you, I'm Orpheus."

"Who am I?"

"Eurydice, *laughs* the girl who makes me wanna sing, the women I'm marrying."

-Why dose the evil man sounds like a radio announcer?

-Lucian really setting the bar higher already in how to care for your mate, as expected. (Go little Rock star)

-He broke through the bounds that a high lord couldn't break through just to go to her?!?!

-And he gave her his coat to cover her??

-"There were different kinds of torture I realized, there was ones I went through, what Rhys went through and then this."

Yeah, now you know how Tamlin felt utm.

- Did Nesta just give the evil king the middle finger? Ew, sarah cringe stop it.

-Cassian just keep dying sweetie, don't touch Nesta.

-Nesta be nice to your future brother in law.

- Freye unlocked a new power, somehow.

-Cheesy, this is all so cheesy.

- "his green eyes met mine, the sorrow and tenderness in them was the most hideous thing I've ever seen."

Wow, ok...

-Tamlin acting like Ryhsand though with Tamlin it's justified/understandable

- *me counting down the final 22 minutes while freye is dying*

-"I nerely gagged on his scent."

Freye darling, I get your upset about his deal with evil king. But he literally tried to save your sisters, stop being so dramatic.

- "my family."

It's been 3 months girly.

- "Tamlin ignored Lucian, so I did too."

Sums up Freye and Lucain's friendship

-Of course all the queens' want is eternal youth,

- Lucian naturally being the smartest one in the room.

-Noooo, not Ryhsand pov. 😭 this better not be the last 17 minutes.

-Holy crap, I just realized how similar this ending is to season 2 of lore olympus ending.

-Don't worry, the bat boys plot armor is thick. Sarah loves you monsters too much.

-Mor don't rip out the arrow it will only make it worse.

-Ryhsand please think, do you really think Tamlin would actually partner with evil king? He didn't even trust evil fae women when she first appeared, what makes you think he would actually help him beyond getting freye back?

-"she is my mate, my wife, the high lady of the night court."

BANG, CRASH A LIGHTING BLAST! (no joke there was thunder after he said this in the dramatized version)

I have 2 thoughts on this one:

1. There was a fan theory during the court trial in lore olympus (persephone was on trail for mass murder, long story) where hades and persephone got married before the trail started because at one point he called her his wife. This wasn't the case because she was 20 and he was in his 2000 (aka 40's) Idk if Rachel was a fan of acotar and wanted to steal from it (since acomaf was released in 2016 and the trial was released in 2020) but because people guessed it she dropped it. Idk that's just a my own theory.

2. How can she be the high lady when the mother is the one to give out titles? Do you realize what you just start Ryhsand? This could lead to more war against the more religious courts, this could lead to the end of the night court if the mother finds out... oh wait, this is acotar. Not real high fantasy, there's no real religious world building.

-"I've forgotten how quiet it was here, how small, how empty"

You do this every time freye, anytime your some where "better" you always just stick your noise up at your old home.

-Freye acting high and mighty towards Tamlin as if she wouldn't had praised Ryhsand for doing the same thing.

- Lucian, you are truly the best character.

-"My sister mate, the mother did indeed seem to have a sense of humor."

What do you mean? He would be a great mate. But then again you're suffering because of it...which makes it so much better.

- "as if he could do that to anyone."

But- but he did freye. And tbh I think he would have done worse to you if he deemed it necessary.

-Freye is really giving evil queen vibes. I wish I could enjoy it, but I know sarah is going to make her the "hero"

And that's it, Thank Saints.

[sorcerous-caress]

Okay but innocent!tav x shadowheart?!? Eventually she just gets so frustrated by their ignorance to what they’re doing to everyone. She naturally has to teach them about these things, if she doesn’t someone else will and she can’t have that. What better way to explain than by doing?

Would she be degrading? Calling them names, implying they weren’t ever innocent and did this all on purpose, etc.

Would she be full of praise? Caring, romantic, gentle.

Somewhere in between? A mix of degradation and praise. Tav was made for this and that’s okay, they’re doing such a great job.

Is that a corruption kink that I'm smelling anon?

I feel like the camp would be divided in two, people who want to break innocent!Tav's cherry in and teach them everything.

And people who want to protect them and let them stay their innocent self. But only as long as they get to stay by their side and not let anyone tak advantage of them.

Say they want to corrupt Tav, actually corrupts them: Shadowheart, Mizora, Orin, Cazador, Nere, Minthara.

Some out of pure enjoyment, others out of sadism. They're clear with their intentions.

Say they want to corrupt Tav, but actually protects them: Astarion, Raphael, Laezel.

Maybe they have apparence to keep, or maybe they tried but decided against it last moment, or even maybe they find you more fun to toy with when you're naive.

Say they want to protect Tav, but actually corrupts them: Halsin, Gale, Gortash, Dame Aylin, The Emperor.

Most of them will do it by pure accident, they really tried their best not to, but they aren't very aware of where to draw the line between what's appropriate and what's not.

Some of them just claimed they wouldn't so you'd lower your guard around them and walk straight into their corrupting arms.

Say they want to protect Tav, actually protects them: Wyll, Karlach, Jaheira, Ketheric, Minsc, Arnell, Isobel, Omeluum, Shadowheart (she is a little confused ngl),

Would genuinely do their best to let you stay in your own bubbled perception of the world, they think it's too precious and rare. Something like that should be treasured and take care of and not ruined like the rest of the filthy world.

Shadowheart switches between the two a lot.

[dirgecomic]

This is Magic Myconid

Unfortunately I can only find a clip kf the whole thing. At the end I use a fake Nere head to cover my ‘junk’. I worked so hard on this goofy bg3 inspired number. I had the idea when entering the underdark, thought it was dumb how often Spaw said coming. I practiced dancing for weeks, bought knee pads, edited together voice overs into the song. I couldn’t find just Soverign Spaw audio so I used a voice changer and used is lines lol - except I say riches of magic and Mike, instead of magic and mind at the end. ( I’ll post a full one if I can get ahold of the video).

I also did a Billy the puppet from saw number to love games by lady Gaga - where I also changed my voice to sound like the puppet and edited together screams and song and lines from the movie. I HAD A RED TRIKE GUYS IT SQUEEKED really creepy like. (Still trying to find a video as my friends were to busy watching the show, if any one from rose city comicon sees this and has pictures I would be so greatful to get them).

My company God of Lore Games got to debute thier live dnd production - we were a last min edition in a back room so I assumed no one would see us but we had so many wonderful people come watch.

I met the McElroys (my hero’s) and managed to nab seats right in the front for my first ever TAZ show.

[blackjackkent]

So. Rakha's pretty shaken by her trip down memory lane via noblestalk.

They really need to head down to the beach and across the lake to start hunting down Nere and the path to Moonrise, but I think after the noblestalk they end up just making camp where the bibberbangs used to be because it's clear Rakha isn't going to be up to anything for the rest of the day.

It takes her a long time to go to sleep; she spends several hours pacing the edge of the camp like a frightened animal and staring out into the darkness. She can feel the very slight staticky buzz of the sussur tree not too far off. Her head spins with the half-articulated memories left over from the mushroom trip.

She's relieved when Wyll comes to find her, even though she doesn't want to admit it. She's been avoiding him since Ethel's betrayal, feeling afraid of what that brief foray into trust cost her. But when he steps into her path, intercepting her frantic pacing... she does feel something ease a little in her chest.

"Hey," he says softly.

She doesn't answer. But she does stop pacing, and sits down abruptly near him. It's a tacit invitation; slowly he sits down at her side, not touching her, but watching her profile in the half-light.

"Are you all right?" he asks.

She shakes her head.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Another shake of the head.

"All right." They sit in silence.

She lifts her hands after a moment and conjures a line of dancing lights over her palm. They spin in a lazy circle, casting weird shadows along the walls of the cavern.

"That tree..." she mutters. "I keep wondering if it will disappear again."

He nods. "It did feel odd, didn't it? It was the flowers, I think, so as long as we stay clear of those, it'll be all right." A pause. "Truth be told, I didn't mind it. A few moments with Mizora disconnected... but it's different for you."

"It felt like my heart was torn out," she says flatly.

He offers a slight, almost shy smile. "Well. We can't have that," he murmurs.

She flicks her eyes sideways to him, and then away again. It's dissonant, strange, the way she wants to smile in answer to him while all these terrible memories run through her mind. "I cut someone open," she says abruptly.

He looks startled. "What?"

"In the-- I remembered--" The words won't come out in coherent order. She tries again. "The mushroom... I remembered a..." She has to think for a moment to come up with the word. "Laboratory. I think. Walls full of jars. Of brains. Livers. Hearts. There was a man on a table. Alive. I cut him open. I enjoyed it."

She draws a sharp breath and squeezes her eyes closed as the beast urge in her head growls eagerly at the memory of the blood, of the flesh sliced open under the scalpel.

"Hell's great fires..." Wyll mutters. His eyes narrow tightly in concern. She half expects him to turn away, repelled by the scene she describes. But he looks at her steadily. "Something you remembered from before the Nautiloid?"

"I think so."

He frowns. "You walked a dark path," he says quietly. "That much is obvious."

She scowls at the ground. "You said once that I carry my own light."

"And I still believe it."

"Why?"

"You tell me." He smiles faintly. "What are you thinking about that memory?"

A long, long pause. "I have learned," she says slowly, "from you. From Lae'zel. From Halsin and Karlach. Purpose in killing. The cruelty... is the beast. Not me. It was stronger then, I think."

He nods. "That is what I mean," he says gently. "The light - I see you trying, learning, holding yourself back. Not everyone would be strong enough." He gives a low, rueful chuckle. "Gods know I can tell it isn't easy. But it's the things we do that aren't easy that mean the most."

She swallows, feeling a sudden tightness in her throat. "I wish you did not comfort me," she mutters. "It would be... simpler."

She sees his eyes brighten just a little at the words. "Well, then," he says. "Long live the complicated."

[inconsequentia]

Seriously though. Why can’t I, as a Drow follower of Eilistraee, proselytize to Nere about the Dark Maiden and the all good times we can have together dancing naked under the moonlight? It’s kinda MY JOB. Lmao.

I mean sure, we’d have to remind him first that going crawling back to Lolth or her devotees is very likely to end in death or worse for him, because he is um .. very optimistic (read: delusional) that things are going to go well for him with regards to all of his little “setbacks” … but he changes gods like underwear, surely not being murdered or drider’d is more appealing. I know he said he’s down to die for a cause but he still sure tries to bargain his way out of sticky situations… so it’s not like he has no sense of self preservation.

Ffs I want him at least as a camp follower :( I find it very weird that if you spare him and convince him to run from the Absolute you just turn him loose into the world instead of keeping an eye on him. If you’re not gonna kill True Souls it makes more sense to keep them where you can watch ‘em and keep them shielded with the relic, yeah?

We could name our camp

Tav’s Home for Recovering True Souls

Or

Absolutists Anonymous.

Just let me hold the big, testy drow caster with the delightfully cracking voice, Larian, I swear to god. The knock-out feature honestly could have made for some great shit, too. Too bad it was slept on as an actual mechanic.

[its-jaytothemee]

Until I Met You - Chapter 18

Chapter 18: No Gnome Left Behind

Pairings: Halsin x Tav

Word count: 6,181

Rating: Currently M, will be Explicit in later chapters.

Read on AO3

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Summary: Tav leads the others back to Grymforge to find the last enslaved gnome. During their exploration she makes some discoveries about the Harpers. Part 18 of the slow burn fic. Tav and Halsin POVs.

Tags: Slow burn, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff, eventual love confessions, eventual smut, angst, implied past rape/non-con and abuse, graphic description of injuries, brief suicidal thoughts.

A/N: Tav and Shadowheart are like 0.2 seconds away from a full on brawl - I'm so sorry to god's favorite princess. Only two more chapters left in the act 1 story! We'll be moving on to the shadow curses lands soon enough with some serious angst and hurt/comfort. Another chapter will be added either later tonight or tomorrow :)

Their trip across the lake was uneventful this time. No ambushes by other sailing duergar, no crass greeting party at the docks.

“Okay, keep your eyes out for another deep gnome. Also, for anything that might help us get through those fucking shadows.” Tav had almost forgotten about their passage through the shadow curse after the events of today. They still had no idea how the cultists were walking among them.

Gruff voices rang from the other side of the docks, the opposite direction from where they explored earlier in the day. She took slow, careful steps toward the sound, unsure whether their True Soul cover was still intact. As they made their way around the docks, they walked past cages holding dead bodies.

“Dead drow, displayed in cages. What message are the duergar trying to send?” She gave a passing glance between the corpses. None seemed to wear any symbols of the Absolute on their clothing.

The raucous voices echoed off the walls around them again. A smaller, higher pitched voice bit back at the first one. Tav’s head snapped over to a small set of stairs off to their side. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a gnome stomping away in a huff.

She nodded her head up the short flight of stairs in front of them. Two duergar were drinking and leaning against the stone banister. A wrought iron gate sat at the top, and behind it looked like an elevator was concealed. One of the duergar called out to her when she tried to inspect it.

“Hey! You got one of Nere’s moonlanterns?”

“A moonlantern?” Tav looked between the two slightly drunk duergar.

“One of them pixie-lamps. If you’re heading to Moonrise, you won’t last without it.” He responded as if this should be obvious to her.

“Good to know. Where can I get one?”

The duergar rolled his eyes at her and called out at the gnome again.

“Stickshit! Another round.” More laughing from the two duergar. The deep gnome came shuffling back with another couple mugs of ale.

“Skickpit.” He muttered under his breath.

“You disgust me, slaver. How do you live with yourself?” Tav sneered. Astarion let out an agitated groan behind her.

“Comfortably. Figured it’d be obvious.” He laughed again. “The little buggers complain, but they love it, I’m telling you.”

Tav’s eye twitched listening to him speak. The tension in the air around them could have been cut with a knife. She could feel her companions struggle to contain their groans; they knew she wouldn’t be able to hold back for long. Rather than start a fight before she could get all the information they needed, she brought the conversation back to the lanterns.

“I believe I asked you where to find another one of those moonlanterns.” She used the most commanding voice she could muster toward the male duergar.

“Hm? Oh, I don’t know. S’far as I know, Nere had the only one.” He shrugged as he took another long drink of his ale.

Great.

“So, there’s nothing you can tell me about how to pass through the shadows besides a moonlantern? And you can’t even tell me where to get one?” Tav glanced back at her companions, Gale’s voice glided into her thoughts.

“Whizbangs?” Even using the tadpole, he sounded exasperated.

“Big time.” She answered silently.

“That’s the only way to make it through, or at least so we’ve been told.”

“Well, thank you for your honesty. Such a rare trait in a slaver.” Tav gave a mocking bow.

Before the duergar had a chance to respond, she punched him in the jaw. Lae’zel and Astarion sprang into action, each of them picking a duergar to attack. Necrotic magic popped and cracked at Shadowheart’s fingertips before she reached out and grabbed one of the duergar by the neck. The dark magic flowed from her into her target, corrupting the flesh and drawing an agonizing scream from him. Gale followed up with a quick Thunderwave spell, launching both duergar off the landing to the ground below. One landed with a lifeless thud, the other just barely made it up to her feet. Tav drew her bow and fired a quick couple of shots into her chest, knocking her to the ground next to her ally.

“There. Feel better, darling?” Astarion rolled his eyes.

“Shit! You killed them!” Skickpit yelled in shock as he ran back up the stairs. “Why?”

“I was sent by Thulla to get you all out of here. Beldron and the others are already across the lake.”

“But why in the hottest hells would a True Soul be helping me?” Suspicion still clouded his face.

“I’m not really a True Soul, we’re here to infiltrate the cult.” Tav gestured to her companions behind her. The skeptical look faded away as he moved his gaze between her and the duergar.

“You’re serious, aren’t you? Shit…what now?”

“We’ll get you across the lake to the others. Wait on the raft until we can clear the fortress, so we’re not followed. Stay low, wait for us to return.”

“Thank Ironhand. I’ll find a good hiding place until you get back!” He scampered off toward their boat. A small wave of relief came over her.

That was all the slaves. At least the ones that survived.

“Let’s take care of the rest of these assholes then head back.” Tav stretched her arms and rolled her shoulders.

“I mean, do we really need to clear the entire fortress? It seems…unnecessary now that we’ve gotten the last gnome out.” Gale peeked around to ask her.

“We can’t risk word getting out of our fights here. What if they warn others at Moonrise that we’re coming?”

“You heard them, they don’t care about the Absolute. We got your precious slaves out, we should go back now.” Astarion wiped his daggers clean on the dead duergar as he searched their bodies.

“They’re slavers!” Tav growled at them. “They don’t deserve this mercy, were the roles reversed, you would be shown none!”

“That doesn’t mean we have to return in kind, Tav.” Gale placed a hand on her arm, and she realized she had started shaking.

“Fine.” She kept her teeth clenched. “Let’s at least explore a little more so we cover our bases. Just because the duergar didn’t know of a moonlantern doesn’t mean that Nere didn’t stash one away somewhere.”

The others nodded their agreement and followed her back down the stairs. There were a few doors along the wall, she figured they could check for any hidden passages that the cultists hadn’t found.

A couple more duergar stood at the other side of the docks, complaining about their work. As Tav got closer, she saw they were kicking bodies of deep gnomes into the water. An involuntary growl escaped her throat at the sight. The symbol of the Absolute adorned their robes.

They can’t even receive a proper burial.

“Stop!” She yelled.

“Listen, elf. ‘Less you’re here to kick some stiffs lakeside, I suggest you bugger off.” The first duergar spat back at her.

She whipped around to face her companions, hoping the rage in her expression was clear.

“Ugh, fine.” Astarion rolled his eyes before running up to one of the duergar and plunging his dagger into his shoulder. The stocky man stumbled back in shock, giving Lae’zel an opportunity to run up and ram her sword through his chest.

The second duergar shook off the surprise of their attack and came rushing forward, but Shadowheart muttered and incantation under her breath that caused him to stop and fall to his knees. With him immobilized, they were able to easily take him down.

Tav looked over the corpses strewn haphazardly across the floor. Tears stung in the corners of her eyes. How many others were enslaved by this cult? She bowed her head and offered a moment of her time to respect their loss.

A locked set of iron double doors was set into the wall beside them. Astarion made quick work of the lock, gaining them entry to a dining hall of sorts. Even with the plates cleared and covered in dust, Tav knew the purpose of this place.

“Ugh the scraps of a nightfall feast.” She didn’t bother hiding her disgust. Could this have been the nightfall feast that occurred just before they marched on Moonrise?

“Food and drink, followed by murder in Shar’s name. Barbaric.” Gale shook his head alongside her.

“This is one of Lady Shar’s most sacred rites. Reserved only for those who have proven their worth in her eyes.” Shadowheart snipped.

“And what do you have to do to be seen as worthy in your lady’s eyes, Shadowheart?” Tav spun around to spit back at her. “Kill anyone who dares to worship a deity that doesn’t insist on loss and darkness? Warp and twist an entire land until it’s nothing but shadow and death?” Her voice was rising with each word, but Shadowheart didn’t back down.

“I’d rather devote my life to someone who at least makes sure my suffering doesn’t happen without reason.” She furrowed her brow further as she walked over to glare up at Tav. “Those who walk the ways of light may think they experience happiness, but it’s an illusion. Made to keep them sated until they finally make their way into the eternal night, into Lady Shar’s embrace. Some of us are just wise enough to accept that fate sooner.”

“Tell me then, what are those reasons that make your suffering so worth your devotion? Tell me what you lost, Shadowheart. What you gave up to be here reveling in admiration of your wicked goddess. Can you even remember?”

The last statement seemed to get under her skin. “I gave up my memories willingly so I could devote myself completely to Lady Shar. A most honorable sacrifice made by many in her following. I know my faith will be rewarded.”

“You know nothing of the suffering Shar is capable of inflicting on those who do not walk her path, and even those who do. I only hope you realize the truth before it’s too late.” Tav’s voice dropped to an angry whisper.

“Okay friends, why don’t we finish having a look around here so we can get back to camp, yeah?” Gale took a timid step in between them, trying to coax them apart. “Might I remind you we have a gnome hiding in waiting for us?

“Fine.” Tav spun on her heels stomped out of the room, not waiting for a response from Shadowheart.

She led them back up and around the chamber where they had fought Nere. A hidden path took them over some hanging metal platforms to a balcony that overlooked the docks. At the end of the walkway, another set of stamped iron doors blocked the way forward. Once Astarion picked the lock, they found themselves in a room that looked almost like a library.

She and Gale looked through the bookshelves, trying to find any information that could help them. He found multiple scrolls that he tucked away into his pack, as well as a few small stashes of gold. Tav ran her fingers over dusty journals and tomes. She stopped and hovered over a book lying on its cover.

Small splatter marks dotted the spine and something indecipherable was etched into the leather that bound it. She picked it up and blew the thin layer of dust off so she could read the title, brushing away any remaining cobwebs. Tears pricked her eyes as she stared in disbelief at the cover.

Dark Justiciar Log – Moonrise Towers Captives.

In darkness, we see your truth.

She opened the book with trembling hands, knowing exactly what she would find in these blood-stained pages.

Lima Hallian, female tiefling, Harper spy, discovered trying to infiltrate Grymforge from the lake. Both horns broken during the first round of questioning, the tail will go next.

Elf, black hair, tanned skin, small tattoo of a harp on his wrist. Refuses to give up his name or the name of the Selûnite cleric whose magic envelops him. Lady Shar may take an interest in this one.

Page after page detailing torture of various Harpers and their unlucky allies.

“Tav?” Gale placed a hand on her shoulder, causing her to jump. “What is it?”

“A logbook. It contains the descriptions of Harpers and their allies tortured for information.” She wiped her eyes as a few tears dripped onto the journal.

“Gods above…” Gale’s eyes wandered to the page open in front of her. “What’s this here?”

He pointed to a small section next to her thumb. An entry detailing the torture of a Harper spy who had revealed the location of a nearby stockpile, but the location was not listed in the entry. The rushed writing from the Dark Justiciar explained that any attempt to open the chest could break the contents completely.

The only additional words they could get out of the Harper were ‘Lux Splenda.’

Lux Splenda…

“Moonlight.” Gale’s eyes continued scanning the page. “What does that have to do with a stockpile?”

“A common enchantment used by the Harpers. When they hide a stash of any kind, there’s usually a two-step process to access it. In this case, we’d need a light spell to disarm the trap.”

“Clever.” His voice was quiet as he read over her shoulder. “Perhaps if the Dark Justiciars weren’t so fond of darkness they could have figured that little riddle out.”

The others were picking through the various piles of armor and books that were scattered about the room. Lae’zel found a mold for a shield, one they hoped would work in the adamantine forge when they could find it.

She could hear them shouting out their finds, but Tav’s mind stayed distracted, her eyes fixed on the book before her. She found herself terrified each time she turned the page, never knowing which name or description she could stumble upon.

“I…” She stashed the book in her bag before turning to Gale. “I think maybe we should leave.”

“Of course.” He brushed himself off a bit as he stood up.

Tav shuffled out of the room with her arms wrapped tight around her chest. Her hands itched to keep flipping through the book. Why was she so desperate to torture herself?

As they retraced their steps back to the docks, a concealed passage caught her eye. A small landing sat a short drop beneath them and, in the dirt, Tav spotted a white sigil painted on the ground. A large ‘H’ written using a curly, flowing font.

“That’s definitely a Harper rune.” Tav peered over the edge to search for more clues. The Harper from the journal came back to the front of her mind.

Lux Splenda.

“This may be the stockpile that was mentioned in that journal.” She beckoned the others to follow as she descended the rocky cliff. Three chests sat spread out around the stone landing. She stood over the rune, inspecting the area further.

“Well, seeing as there’s no active Harpers here, I say we take a peek. After all, it’s their own fault for just leaving it here.” Astarion giggled as he jogged over to the first chest.

“Left out in plain sight like this? No – the Harpers are far too smart for that.” Tav rolled her eyes at him.

She took a moment to investigate her surroundings, trying to think what kind of trap could have been left here by Harpers, or perhaps for Harpers. A sharp, sour smell hung in the air and stung her nostrils. A different medley of odors from the rest of Grymforge. Where did she recognize that smell from?

As she continued racking her brain, Astarion made his way up to one of the chests, a lockpick twirling between his fingers and ready to loot. It clicked in Tav’s brain a fraction of a second before the chest started to wiggle, and a few eyes popped into sight.

“Astarion, no!”

Rows of teeth appeared in the chest’s opening, followed by a long, thick, tapered tongue.

Mimics.

“Careful! They’ll grab your weapons right out of your hand if you’re not ready for it.” Tav drew her bow and fired an arrow tipped with crackling electric magic at the two mimics clustered together. One let out an agitated hiss and the other shook off the attack with ease.

“Really? Mimics disguised as treasure chests?” Astarion narrowly avoided an acid-soaked tongue that came lashing out at him. “How original!”

“It worked on you, didn’t it?” Tav yelled back as she yanked Gale away from a whipping attack from another tongue.

She could see Astarion flipping her off out of the corner of her eye. Lae’zel jumped over by him to make a couple of arcing swipes at the creature, one particularly vicious swing from her severed the mimic’s tongue as it tried to lash out again. The long, thick appendage writhed and struggled on the ground, flinging droplets of acid into the air as the larger piece of the monster fell lifeless to the ground.

“Ew, ew, ew.” Shadowheart kicked away the tip of the tongue from her feet as she aimed a bolt of radiant energy at one of the mimics at the bottom of the landing.

Wyll and Gale started hurling spells at the mimics while they were grouped up. Fireballs and scorching rays shot from their hands to roast the two remaining monstrosities. One collapsed on its side, charred and sizzling. The other took a few hopping steps toward them before making another lashing attack. Tav’s ankle was grappled by the tongue and it started dragging her closer to the mimic.

She hissed in pain as its acidic saliva worked its way through her skin. As she was being pulled along the ground, she saw a few bolts of red energy fly through the air above her to hit the creature in the back of the throat. The attack caused it to let go of her leg as it screeched in pain. She rolled to the side, trying to keep out of reach of its thrashing tongue strikes. The searing pain in her ankle wouldn’t let her stand.

Lae’zel ran down the small hill and stood between her and the mimic. She made a powerful attack, bringing her sword over her head before leaping in the air and plunging the blade down into one of the creature’s eyes. The last mimic fell, lifeless and bent in half next to her. Its rows of long, needle-like teeth stuck straight up in the air.

Shadowheart jogged down to kneel by Tav, a healing spell already forming in her hands.

“That was lucky, you must have wriggled free before that acid could do any real damage.” The soothing magic worked its way into her skin and muscles, mending the wound within seconds.

“It felt real enough.” She grunted as the last bit of skin cinched together.

At the very edge of the cliff, a small toy chest sat perched on a rock. When she opened it, another larger chest was revealed. A classic Harper safety net.

“Hmm, this chest is definitely sealed with magic.” Gale hovered over it as he inspected the lock.

“Here, let me.” Tav quickly cast a light spell on the revealed chest, and the lock was free for picking. “Most Harper chests are protected by a spell of sorts rather than a typical physical trap. Or sometimes both.” She recalled with fondness.

Not a minute later, Astarion had the chest unlocked. It contained two scrolls, one an ice spell of some kind that she handed over to Gale. The other was a message sent from the Council of High Harpers.

The formal scroll was written as a plea from the Harpers to the Emerald Enclave. Tav ran her fingers over the old parchment, almost worried that it would disintegrate in her hands. A scroll that detailed the beginning of the alliance that would decide the fate of Moonrise Towers.

“That’s it? Two lousy scrolls?” Astarion gawked at her. “You Harpers have a strange sense of value. Why, if I had three mimics at my disposal, I’d be guarding much more than scrolls.”

Tav just clutched the scroll to her chest.

“I don’t know about the rest of you, but I am starving.” Gale gave his stomach a few light pats, pulling Tav out of her thoughts.

“Let’s get going then.” She stored the scroll in her backpack. “We should get Skickpit back to the others.”

The docks were close by, hardly a jaunt. But on their way back to the boat, a small glimmer in the corner of her eye pulled her attention to one of the dead drow in the cages. She leaned down to inspect the corpse who wore simple leather armor and boots, but above her left breast, she saw a pin. The symbol caused her breath to catch and a lump to rise in her throat.

A silver harp within a crescent moon.

She’s a Harper…what was she doing here?

How was this possible? It was obvious this drow was killed within the past couple of days, she couldn’t possibly be one of the original victims of Grymforge. Tav snatched the pin from her and searched her pockets. In the inside of her jacket, a small piece of parchment was folded and tucked away. The broken seal on the edge of the paper also bore the Harper sigil. She snatched it to stash in her pocket, opting to read it away from the others later.

“Anything good, my friend?” Astarion bent over to inspect the corpse as well, startling a yelp out of Tav.

“I swear, I’m going to start making you wear a bell if you don’t stop scaring me like that.” She rolled her eyes as she stood up. “Just the basic leather armor she’s wearing.” She lied.

“Let’s head back then, I can hear Gale’s stomach rumbling from here. Terribly annoying.” He turned away to join the others by the boat.

The entire ride back, Tav’s mind raced trying to find an explanation for the Harper she found. Were they simply a wandering loner, unlucky to come across the Absolute cultists? Not too far-fetched considering the drow would be at home in the Underdark. Or were the Harpers perhaps after the cult as well? Once again, not out of the question.

She toyed with the corners of the parchment in her pocket, bending them backwards and forwards while keeping it out of view of the others. Maybe this note would give her more insight, and though she didn’t dare to expect it, a little hope.

***

Halsin and the others had spent a fair amount of time at the myconid colony. He took the opportunity to trade with the hobgoblin, Blurg, from the Society of Brilliance. They had a pleasant conversation about the fauna of the Underdark and their many uses in potions and elixirs. Blurg had let him know that they would be leaving for Baldur’s Gate within the next tenday and if they found themselves in the city to visit the lodge they had there. It was a kind offer, but a large metropolis such as Baldur’s Gate held no temptation for him. Karlach and Wyll had gone to speak with the sovereign to deliver the drow head while the gnome named Barcus bid farewell to the others liberated from Grymforge.

Once their business with the myconids was completed, he enjoyed a pleasant stroll back to their camp with Karlach, Wyll, and Barcus. Until today, he hadn’t realized just how much Karlach could talk in one sitting.

“Let’s see, what happened on the boat…” Karlach tapped her chin as she recalled the events of today. “Lae’zel nearly got blown off the deck, Tav threw a bunch of duergar into the water before taking an arrow to the chest, and Gale had to rip the arrow out. Then she went a little murder happy when we landed at Grymforge.”

“What do you mean?” He peered around Wyll to look at her.

“I don’t know, as soon as they mentioned the slaves, it’s like something in her snapped. She immediately turned on them. Scared me a bit if I’m being honest.”

“Scared you?” Halsin teased.

“She just…didn’t seem like herself is all. I think being at Grymforge is a little tough on her, I just wish I knew why.”

“You’re very kind to be concerned, Karlach. Speaking from our shared experience of the curse surrounding Moonrise, I am sure this place is bringing back many unpleasant memories.”

“What exactly happened at Moonrise, Halsin?” Wyll spoke up between them. “And what does Grymforge have to do with it?”

“It’s…indescribable really. All I can say is I have yet to live a worse day in three hundred and fifty years than the day that curse was unleashed.” His tongue had gone dry, and he heard a slight crack in his voice.

The others walked in silence as they listened to him.

“Grymforge was said to be the stronghold where Ketheric Thorm had gathered his forces in the fighting. The fight began when he turned his back on Selûne to follow Shar. He marched on Moonrise Towers in her name…” Halsin trailed off as he felt tears gather in his eyes.

“And the curse?” Karlach asked.

“It was his final act. One last horrible display of Shar’s wrath. It consumed everything. Harpers, druids, Selûnites, and Sharrans alike.” He took a shaky breath as the memories of that day threatened to come back and drown him. “We defeated Ketheric Thorm, many called our fight a victory for it. But I cannot call anything that ends in a curse that dark a victory.”

Halsin remembered the aftermath of that battle. So many wanted to proclaim triumph, yet there were no celebrations. No festivities raising glasses to fallen allies, no stories told around campfires of their victory. The small camp they set up after he helped drag the few survivors from the wicked tendrils of shadow remained silent and bleak throughout the night.

“But why did he attack? What did he stand to gain?” Wyll turned to look up at him.

“The region around Moonrise was filled with devoted followers of Selûne.  Once he fell from the Moonmaiden’s grace into Shar’s darkness, he likely wanted to gain her favor by wiping out such a strong enclave of her sister’s followers.”

The reason Ketheric Thorm fell into Shar’s embrace was not fully known. Most often, he heard it was the untimely death of his beloved daughter that pulled him away from Selûne.

“And there’s nothing that can be done?” Karlach leaned forward to look at him.

“I…I don’t know.” He lied. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen the shadows. Perhaps once we arrive, we’ll learn of some fortune to help us.”

They seemed to accept his answer. Thank the gods Tav wasn’t here, she would have seen straight through that lie.

The four of them crossed the familiar threshold into their camp, the three animal companions came trotting up to greet them. They had hardly put their things away and settled by the fire when Tav and their companions came shuffling into camp. Barcus jumped up from his seat and ran up to Tav.

“Did you find him?” He asked, his voice eager and nervous.

“Yes, we took him to the others at the myconid colony.” She patted him on the shoulder before dragging herself off to her tent. Halsin stood up to greet her, but she walked right past him. He felt a small stab of sadness when she didn’t come over, or at least say hello to him on their return. She always came bounding up to him whenever they came back to camp but today…today she just meandered away on her own.

He thought she would have been happier having freed the gnomes, but something else must have happened during their trip. She had her arms wrapped around herself, her eyes were reddened, and she dragged her feet in the dirt as she walked. While he watched her disappear behind the canvas walls of her tent, he caught sight of Gale in the corner of his eye.

“Gale!” He called out to stop the wizard before he made his way to his own tent. “Tell me, what happened today? Tav seems…troubled.”

“She had a rough day, Halsin.” Gale gave a light shake of his head causing a few of his grey hairs to fall over his eyes. “We found information about Harpers who were kept at Grymforge. It…wasn’t pleasant. Her and Shadowheart had no shortage of spats as well.”

That wasn’t surprising. Tav seemed quick to befriend everyone in their travelling party, except Shadowheart. The ever-present unease arising from her Shar worship caused strain between the two of them, not that it was any better with Halsin. Add in the fact that they were exploring a Sharran fortress? He could be sure the tension had been palpable in the air.

“Yes, I suspected wandering around Grymforge would be difficult.”

“On the bright side, no wounds are in dire need of tending on our return. Quite the record for our little band, no?” Gale smiled as he walked away to change out of his bloodied robes.

The rest of the evening was rather boring. They sat together around the fire to eat, those that ventured back into Grymforge recounted their adventures, which today included mimics. He took his usual seat next to Tav, but she hardly spoke or participated in the conversation. She would offer weak smiles and halfhearted chuckles, but not much more. Halsin noticed that her hand would jerk to her pocket every now and then as she fidgeted with something hidden there.

The only time she spoke more than a couple of words at a time was to inform everyone that they would need to pack up tomorrow morning so they could move their camp to Grymforge. Since they had cleared it out, she figured it would be easier for them to rest there tomorrow before leaving for Moonrise. Gale had left a rune there to allow them easier travel.

With a plan in place and stomachs full of stew, the camp began to wind down for the evening. He packed away some of the herbs and potions he had been fiddling with earlier, stashing them in his bag so he could continue working on them tomorrow.

When Halsin turned around, he saw Tav still sitting by the fire, clutching a piece of parchment in a white-knuckled grip. The others had all retired for the evening, even Scratch and Sniff had curled up together at the edge of camp.

“Staying up a bit longer?” he asked as he took the seat next to her.

“I found this letter on a Harper in the Grymforge.” Her voice was as shaky as the hands that clutched the letter. She held it out for him to take.

“A Harper?” He smoothed out the crumpled paper on his leg. “Did you tell the others?”

She shook her head, never taking her eyes off the flames. The writing was legible, but it was obvious that the hand that wrote it was in a hurry.

Jhaam,

Like a phoenix from the ashes, Grymforge has risen from the dead.

I’ve word of a drow cultist gathering duergar in the old city’s halls. That the Absolute means to recruit them, I’ve no doubt. Yet it’s what they might seek amidst the ruins that most troubles me.

You’ve not failed me yet. Go to Grymforge, cling to shadow – and bring word of the cult’s intentions to Last Light. I will be waiting.

J

Halsin’s heart raced as he finished the letter.

Last Light…

“Tav…” He said breathlessly, “This letter mentions Last Light…as in Last Light Inn?”

“I can only assume.”

“But that is not possible, is it? Last Light would have fallen amidst the worst of the shadows, surely.”

“If this note is any indication, there are Harpers waiting at Last Light, Halsin.” Her lower lip trembled as she turned to face him. “I know who wrote this note. I would know that handwriting anywhere.” She whispered.

“You do?”

“Yes, this was written by Jaheira. The High Harper herself. Halsin…I think she’s at Last Light Inn. She’s found a way to walk amongst the shadows.” The hope rising in her voice was unmistakable, it brightened the dim hope in his own mind.

“Perhaps. Or they’ve at least found a temporary measure to keep them at bay.”

She nodded as she turned her attention back to the flames in front of them. He thought this newfound hope would have lifted her spirits more, but she still seemed…downhearted.

“Is there something else?” He asked.

Her eyes glanced toward a small book that was resting in her lap, he didn’t see it when he first sat down. She picked it up to hold tight against her chest.

“This book is a log of the Harpers that were captured and tortured by Dark Justiciars.”

“Recently?”

“No…” She trailed off. “The last dated entry was just over one hundred years ago.”

“I see.” Halsin kept his voice low and gentle, praying that she hadn’t found an entry that detailed her brother being tortured.

“Some of them have names, others just general descriptions of the captive. I can’t help but wonder…” She sniffled and took an unsteady breath before continuing. “I can’t help but wonder how many of them I knew.”

He watched as she opened the book and started thumbing through it. Her soft cries were lost in the sounds of the turning pages and crackling of the fire. A few tears that rolled down her cheeks landed on the paper.

“Tav…” Halsin reached over and gently took the book from her hands. They stayed frozen in place as if she were still holding it. “I think you’ve punished yourself enough for today. Re-reading accounts of your allies’ torture will do nothing to bring them back.”

Even as he said the words, his own fingers itched to flip through the pages as well. To know if any of his own allies were mentioned.

“I know.” Her hands relaxed and fell back into her lap. One reached into her pocket and pulled out a small pin. A Harper pin. She held it gingerly between her fingers, watching the light shimmering in the metal from the fire.

“Is that your old pin?”

“No, I found this when I found the letter.” She kept her eyes fixed on the tiny harp in her hands, turning it between her fingers.

“Do you miss it?”

“Sometimes.” She gave him a sad smile. “I didn’t quite realize it until I started traveling with the others after the nautiloid. It’s nice having a team, having others to rely on. I miss that part of the Harpers.”

“Did you ever consider going back?”

“A couple of times. But every time I thought about it, I’d take that first step toward the closest enclave, and I would think of Tev. I just didn’t want to be a part of them without him.”

Halsin nodded before deciding to change the subject. He was dying to know if they had found out how the cultists were traveling through the shadows.

“Did you find anything else today?”

“Yes, there was an elevator guarded by a couple of duergar. They said that’s their path to Moonrise. It seems like the cultists are using something called a ‘moonlantern’ to navigate the shadows.”

The path to Moonrise.

“Moonlantern?” He tried to hide his mix of eagerness and anxiety at the mention of their path forward.

“I think it was the broken lantern we found on Nere. But what would a pixie have to do with walking among the shadows?” Tav continued fidgeting with the small pin.

“I haven’t the slightest idea. I suppose there’s no chance you found a working one?”

“Nope. Nere was the only one of them who had one on his person.” She bowed her head down. “I…I’m sorry we couldn’t find a way to safely explore the land.” A few more tears ran down her face.

Halsin moved close to her and put an arm around her shoulders.

“There’s nothing to apologize for, my friend. For so long, it was nothing but a hope that I could even get this far. At least now we know that the cultists aren’t immune to the shadows, they’ve simply found a way to keep them at bay.”

“I suppose.” She sniffled as she rested her head on his shoulder. “We still have one more day though, perhaps our luck will turn around. The others still want to go look for the adamantine forge tomorrow.”

“Right. Then let’s not lose hope yet.” Halsin squeezed her shoulders. “And even if you don’t find another lantern, we’ll find a way to get through the shadows. If the cultists can figure it out, so can we.”

I hope.

[lau-ry]

Two things about Baldurs gate :

1) it's a great game

2) i expect too much of it apparently and it is so frustrating argh

Half of the time i'm not sure what i'm supposed to do at all. Other half there are too many ways to solve a problem but somehow all of them either not easy to guess (aside from "kill them all" and "find a secret passage") or not the things my character would do.

I hate to break immersion to rewind again and again because things go straight opposite from where i expected. It's realistic may be but so SO frustrating.

(Someone tell me, is there a way to save the gnoms from Nere that is not killing off the whole fortress. I spent two days on it and feel very stupid)

Also, with so many moving parts of the plot, they often don't come together that great.

Like why Laezel starts a fight with Shadowheart over the artifact when Tav has it and Tav decide what to do with it. She should have tried to steal it or better yet just go report to a first somewhat reasonable gith and then help them chop down our party. (yes, it looks like there are no reasonable giths around, but she does not seem to realise that)

Actually the whole artifact thing is strange, Shadowheart is way too chill about it transferring to Tav. This mission is currently her whole meaning in life and she is just "woops, that happens, i guess it's yours now".

Also how the people who "wait in the camp" still has artifact's protection ?

Also that magical subspace camp on itself, how does it even work (i bet companions hate to be left there because they then have to pack and carry and unpack again all that unnecessary stuff, lol)

[margridarnauds]

Baldur's Gate questions! 18, 24, 30!

THANK

18: What would your Tav be doing if they weren't kidnapped on the Nautiloid?

I've never actually figured out what Kitrye was doing just before the Nautiloid, she's being annoyingly evasive as ever with that, but I think she'd have still been on the run, still trying to work her way into the world Aboveground, still trying to stay one step ahead of her mother. In the canon turn of events, the things that really solidified Kitrye's arc the most, and that really established her sense of self, were (1) Facing down Minthara, (2) Getting Phalar Aluve in the Underdark and (3) Facing down Nere, since all three involved her establishing her sense of self and her right to be there, as well as facing down more traditional Drow (even though both had turned from Lolth). It's why she still carries Phalar Aluve around into Act 3, because it's Her Sword. You don't take the Gae Bulg away from Cú Chulainn, you don't take Excalibur OR Caliburn away from King Arthur, you don't take Phalar Aluve away from Kitrye. It's just *Wrong.* If she didn't have those things, I don't think she'd be as firmly grounded. She wouldn't have seen what she could do, she wouldn't have seen the positive results of her actions, and she'd still be trying to find her footing, and it isn't as easy to do Paladin Things on your own, without a sense of guidance, possibly going from place to place, especially not as a Half Drow (who can pass as a full Drow). Something tells me she still would have found Baldur's Gate, I do have Raphael at one point commenting that he thinks that they still would have crossed paths -- I believe the former, I think the latter is his ego talking. And, once she got to Baldur's Gate, who knows? There's a lot for a paladin to do there, but I'm also not certain she'd have survived, especially since her mother really will not rest until she's dragged back to Menzoberranzan, and even though her mother has lost her scent over the years, and there aren't as MANY Lolth-sworn Drow in Baldur's Gate...there's always the danger. She's resilient enough that she might have pulled ahead, regardless, but I don't see her being settled. She wasn't going to end up on a nice Eilistraean settlement where she would do group dancing, she's too aloof for that. For however bittersweet things are at the end of her storyline, as sad as she is to see her companions go their separate ways, she is MUCH better off than if she'd never been on the Nautiloid.

24: Does your character believe in the afterlife?

Given her devotion to Eilistraee, she very much does believe in one, even though I think she was really shocked by the actions of, say, Mystra in-game (since Mystra is a close friend of Eilistraee's, it was personal for her in a way that it wasn't with, say, Shar or Vlaakith, where she never liked or trusted them to begin with even if she was respectful in Vlaakith's temple.) According to Ed Greenwood, followers of Eilistraee "join the Great Dance as flying, weightless images of themselves, unless or until the Dark Dancer changes them for her own purposes (see Lolth, above)." Lolth can consume them, change them into new forms, or give them a new life -- I don't think Eilistraee would do anything to her followers against their will, but I could see Kitrye, hypothetically, given her actions, potentially have becoming enough of a champion for Eilistraee that she WOULD HAVE been a Chosen of hers and, subsequently, being given the chance to be reborn...had Things not happened. (Eilistraee will always love Kitrye and vice versa, but realistically speaking, Kitrye chose the Hells over moonlit forest glens. And she'd have done it a thousand times over, but it means that her afterlife is in other hands now, even if I think that Eilistraee would still be willing to step in if Raphael actually ALLOWED Kitrye to die...which he isn't going to because, even if the romantic/sexual side of the relationship ends...she's His. He isn't going to let her be in a situation where she could be claimed by anyone else other than him.)

30: What's your favorite thing about your Tav?

I described Kitrye to another friend once as being "my Quiet Girls With Trauma Representation" and that was very much the vibe. I like that she's a badass who puts up this steel front, who's compassionate, who does DESPERATELY try to do the right thing, and who very rarely lets people know what's going on in her head. Even the companions who think they know her the best, like Gale and Shadowheart, are only getting about 25% of what's going on in her mind, and that's a distance that she deliberately keeps. She doesn't judge Shadowheart for worshipping Shar, at least not on the surface, doesn't chew out Gale for keeping secrets, doesn't chew out Wyll for Mizora, and they're grateful for it, like "Oh, Kitrye, such a nice person" while not digging deeper, and she's sitting on this maelstrom of issues that she refuses to give away. She acts very courageous, she is willing to stare down a True Soul in a room surrounded by lava and say "I'll take your head if you touch one more innocent", while also being petrified of spiders and wearing anti-spider shoes long after she's left the areas with the most spiders. She's naturally distrustful, doesn't give away information easily, is very guarded about herself and her background, and she's still thoroughly (at least at first) a Lawful Good paladin who still uses persuasion to get out of most of her fights. She's sworn to fight for the light and to protect against the undead, but she chose to read the Necromancy of Thay and reads every book she comes across (even though intelligence is actually her dump stat.) She's a bundle of contradictions to her companions but in a way that makes sense internally, because they are getting very little of what's going on in her head. (Except the devil thing which, tbh, even she doesn't fully get.)

[aureliaen]

Some of y'all need to touch grass. And take a statistics class. Unless you just wanna get mad about stuff that doesn't matter, then disregard, I guess. Rant/analysis below.

Works on AO3 are not representative of the BG3 fandom. The BG3 fandom isn't representative of the entire BG3 playerbase. Comparing the number of works about characters (AO3) based on how popular they are overall (playerbase) is insane. Obviously you need to account for the demographics of fanfic writers.

Choosing a few categories that happen to support your preconceived bias is not the move. How were they chosen and why? You could easily find categories where the female character is more popular.

Orin and Gortash are completely different characters and their shared connection to Durge is literally meaningless, considering Gortash is usually a romantic interest and Orin a family member. Romance or smut focused fanfics are vastly more popular. Pretending like they're the same based on one shared characteristic is a fallacy. Also not some of you thinking Gortash doesn't deserve to be popular bc he's evil. Like. Lmao. At a loss for words genuinely.

Minthara is obviously a much better character than Halsin (I'm sorry I don't like him). But like. Do you really think she's less popular because of sexism or are you just being disingenuous? A vast majority of people save the grove. To most players, Minthara is just a random miniboss in act 1 they'll kill once and never think about again. I wish she had more fans, but with the way recruiting her works, she won't.

Astarion doesn't shut up about Cazador since act 1, and we learn in some great detail about who he is and what he did. Viconia isn't even mentioned by name since literally the moment she first appears, and she isn't the central antagonist in Shadowheart's quest. Besides, I'd assume there's a significant overlap between Cazador writers and Astarion writers, and he IS the most popular BG3 character on AO3.

Some of these are just insane, too. 14 fic difference between Z'rell and Nere, really? Lol.

And what is y'all's supposed solution to this problem anyway? Is this post just to bitch about women and queer people who happen to find joy in writing about men? What are we supposed to do, start writing about characters that don't excite us as much just to fill a quota? If you love certain characters and you find that their fandom isn't too big, write about them. Stop complaining that fans of other characters create more.

A common issue in fandom spaces is female characters ignored in favor of their male counterparts, and one of the biggest reasons I see given is that the women just aren't as interesting as the men. They're placed in lesser roles with less story impact, less personality, less character development, so of course the men get more fan interest.

With that in mind, here's 9 sets of characters who DO have comparable characterization, plot relevance/presence, and personal development -- and how many tagged works each character has on Archive of Our Own. Spoilers: it's pretty bad.

[libidomechanica]

Minds apartment cooling away

A limerick sequence

               1

So rear, till the present broke from the moorland! Thus full of discontent: a    grinning waterlily    stand, if gentlemen. She then. Mind’s apartment cooling away.

               2

Mine own word but trusted head should reveal and his Arts, and sip her praise. We    shall regret lets taught o’t    gars me great stay; these, to give throng, and stuttering, married.

               3

He found the time mine in kind lady- queen, gilding eye on soul. Woe is famish’d    Hair! Devote the looked    the Catholic creed are breath and chaste away. And as far apart.

               4

High, the moon is in her from the farce! Rod, thou art diving Tears of her as    dear, and blowing pears! Of    Jove, then, how it dead. Calm as to the first I swore praise shall die.

               5

Tho’ I can’t fall on Meander, ’ and your backs with a sort of good, but never    crown, and brought of life    for us? It seem in a country folks would gives Sam a push.

               6

But soon a time and roared before, he fell’d the rest renowne, rich in Machinery,    becoming years were    must be made him to costive calm. For I have ye left their bride.

               7

She look’d the war-drum through the winters left. Stains the cage, the greater light to    ranged, beated home and there    would cure those little long salt sea; where then the bridge soon elate!

               8

—Alas, I met with airy Horns I plant with honest doth may stands—within.    We passion far with fame;    but while we gained to the Wild. Sir Launcelot and dignify?

               9

Find; but led by force attaint,—a Rosebud blown about the subjected, when    I feel! Or sorrow’s crown    put on the boat on the blood! Nor use thee overcame my Ghost.

               10

Skirts the happy may haue I would bring there unto my design when perfect    so late for games? You come    to be, best seem’d my feel once did, but ev’ry Word hath the depth.

               11

Blue curtain stormy darklier under overhead, women mournful wandering    out; laid in—I forget    are cloudless feet. Broke of thy day. Ere may find this was grave!

               12

No friend th’ afflicted man, entering swallow-flight is as mine!—A    merry face; th’    expression, who cam so fine for gander, At last an active place.

               13

Then flash and closing game, as we rode; it seems to piercest shone the reason’d    show her face, and, first-born    of life, but mix’d with a faith. More beaten golden Apollo!

               14

Come, Time; but Sorrow! And I contest, death so red, the widen’d ways shall look    up the gloom will regret    the loom the Rhodian blue: so fresh and mine. My ship, and Mars left.

               15

Ah, take the state’s ode, or lit then she sheep-herd steeds jet-black. Cried, or with Lord    Gregory conceal my    loved no touch’d in snowy blossom’d reason ripple’s holy urn.

               16

For Jewel in love: but while great little Idol up; on winds are likewise could    sink to Antony. If    I were perfectness. Ye, merry shock him: I’ said Endymion!

               17

Who in his Head. A single peal of the three. For wine, a lord of flowers    be tied: restlesse beneath    that I ask no more we know thirst for love I though she spring.

               18

And somewhat is dressed, slid slowly forms of purest Æther pleasant right, the    wintery skin, though the foe:    or strike him nere. And in, when lo, foot-feathers are green, alone.

               19

A statue warm. I grateful to wakes; nor has twa sparkling film blew out    her sobs, melissa, for    on that’s inner. And is nipp’d, and what he drizzling roguish een.

               20

I name: not to lead to a stall mankind. A growth of women’s soul with pins;    roger stored. Of Day. Spread:    sweet maidenheid, and thunder. Clearest faith, but sought to the world.

               21

And all the burning social lies no flag, slide from greeuance. With rust, should a man;    while then his prow, and in    pail, where held the full with themselves have number’d Troops the cursèd duke!

               22

Melissa Florian sound comming, while her you too.—Thwarted, younger children.    Brighter shine own fancies    scum, and desolate, and one human eyes the perfected.

               23

In Court and Day? One legend in the spake, all soul at one but made too far    disease, more they were no    foot, their trebles sing, that filled on the sweet golden bow, and me!

               24

Shut up the will I pray shadow: further— there she stood, nor will the West. Unless    I tel the wintry    skin, would be thy Will, ’ if that woke the moon shall for evermore.

               25

The doctrine sound of lightsome hame, that courteous, ever afresh and    by their praying detected.    Thou such evil strong he seems, are dumb before than the sea.

               26

What deep peace; come they have, great Orion sloping t’ have I held in sometime    lofty towers about    the sallows of Death with sorrow lightning in May. And years.

               27

What needs it were joined. ’Er to the stood below, and sanctity so near the    first ray they expiring    cudden, faint vision or intellect, but deep peace among use.

               28

And began and little bird? Whose Back is still true feeling dress, side-faced they    liv’d a moment, their skin’s.    For still blessed goal, and commerce, perch’d Abyssinia rouse away?

               29

Fourteen his brutal foe and blowing, whom we, that spot, as soon renew thy    side. As many a    jesuit priestly race. At last, my love for even these parted.

               30

In vain old talent, looking at her times to all. He great Orion sleep;    the vesper-Phosphor, brief    lest hell, for want of Day. The fool with tears. By him when the skies?

               31

’ The deed, she tries fledge as it round her soft, liquid pulsation. Then did nothing    new. Into Heaven’s    will hold you I know our loves to highest: wink at our husband.

               32

Thus she hand in its fade for their Pinions fly. Of the harp of birds on hand    in your reach thro’ the Peacock:    but looked a state, no other share so longer hovering now.

               33

And in a dearnest among theirs was not cost us oft, in short feverish    in State on one of    mine enemie. Thou by soft thy prevail, and Chief that an eagles.

               34

The thicker progress thro’ nature, redeem his hand: he plain the city thing,    turn’d my powers: this lost    invades, safe from yonder: ’ then see! His camphor, fresh flow’rs, hear me?

               35

So are you I’d pay no more. Sweetness from little flashed&forgot his vanquished    he had to moan and    listen a working since dear, but wisdom, and cheep an angel!

               36

To Cipseus by inherit neuer slaves, the stiffness of horrors of your    pure elysium. But    ill for ever and I perceived not ere you and line is this?

               37

May rise; for brew fierce and turn back renown, both shame, the other’s heavy heart    of his laugheth once remove.    Though opposition Unattaint,—a Rosebud blow the wheels.

               38

There of Parliament; and won. Through the years of pee. To meet oblivious    enmity shall kind. Yet    how to espouse away, springs that thy with those tears ago.

               39

And suffer things; and the lip short, thoughts of your merit first conceals his head,    herself the tender eyes.    At earth and hail’d below, that I could yet we this; within it.

               40

And of all her Altar’s side by side Things, a woman to chew the ground. And    so lowde: whilome have asked    off two gift of her Host in fact, the pleased, his Breast. Whose comply.

               41

Out of spring of the yearns to roam the iron gauntless in silence for    the better lands; does my    heart, if you had giv’n himself, may fail! To the highway at cards?

               42

The mock-love, again, cold, the Bosom fall blesses wages walking, and horse.    Each it feels, and gemlike    eyes that love, though it leaps with tears the middle of Caria place?

               43

’ Beauty walk of leaves which made the public wealth, and bent by as strain, instead    of mercy, born of night    by kindred brows. Where are free; the late-lost in Silence and seemed.

               44

Such a point to myself out, alas! A vessels, fal’n from worse and mourning    bowls invitation different    wait their sins have wrapt in world which certain stray, thought as pure.

               45

Sent of the root. And all the North, suffer’d create his active powers are    like a naked trees; he    brought in my grave with the sacrifice, that the aerial Plain.

               46

That great fatal loss what the first as Death’s twin-brothers, all work prevail. Then    downward in morning to    thus await fearless shoe- string? Then brings of need, and something love.

               47

There demand thy love, and then sink downward weighs to rule my blood! Unto win    less break crystal brook shall    blood, trifling up for my sack of growing was, blue-stockit farms.

               48

It is wished—our tales of sin. This pompous Robe, and strikes by day, and leaps into    the furrowing echoes    out of song to his fault! The forth a feat to save your love.

               49

Long from where young angel of the swan. But mine, ’ he crush her seeks a bitterly!    Love, every limb; I    fed you, with the Princess with a sudden ghostly sings the most!

               50

Their seasons, and bishoped by me related of seed, and prey, as o’er    a brook, mere speak and far    as human Pasimond, the burning wind: betwixt a miserye.

               51

To sit in moral leper. And veil to vengeance with the harmless he sits,    the sorrow only thro’    all, and all at the more the Stars, and Coronets and cuckoo.

               52

But only friends, and such as are not; till their sighing all conceal, beneath    all that understood. With    pale as yon hardihood, I still all alike coarse murm’ring Foe!

               53

The terrace, to worse that dream as some civic slander side, we trust things me    love the grass. When God, while    storm, down this cancker works grow, and all my life but kneel, for thee.

               54

I expects—was the thoughts of heaven’s gate, yet knows, when some dire Offence,    shrink his hand with the vanquished    side green malignant worth since floor. I gave it birth—Despair.

               55

I hardly seemed haste were people of care, were in on, give up than this Lord    Tennyson In Memoriam    A. Must not for to us: last was guide her collection.

               56

While melting Grace was a lower of his stalke dead are apt exceeds from our    own restored. Common days    to his way; and them yet; but the state, aware of tyranny.

               57

And brief is gently sway’d in the tree. I went: hence, not a tour to haue, who    lights Reserve to thee, that    love! Back, and distorted walls; and of that for thee, who eats her.

               58

Nor may find, awakes the care employed my head. Airy voice, no lute, they    rest in fairy trench’d with    for fast as we have pressed the price about thy love’s isle the stage.

               59

Better than thousand monitor me night, and, as pow’rful Fancy caught to    post with the blows his tongue.    Is it, to dress kindle into good: the fuller minstrelsy!

               60

With a sorrows themselves, and presentimes and my distracts; and truly    that greater ape, but I’ll    give the last of the surpassed. The public shame, and sighing lost.

               61

Is Earth, or by Force, choise sport himself away the whisper’d, and shook it cannot    move our ears are made.    Rise, holy mirth; but the quiescat sea Dream that do beat their Pride.

               62

Tho’ thrice through with her Hands. Days and while freed from thought; an’ she hand stir about    my good company. And    beauty I read with one Fingers in her aunt, old affianced.

               63

The heart stood her answer’d: Wherefore to enters, with delights that make mist,    the was at one should lift    her years have ’scaped; their title say. Cursed them pitied withstand.

               64

As how they know that Arm in Arms to die from mine, but so exalts their petty    could we guess’d; where, scalpel,    and brought; and the Watch our porcelain made. And like vomit.

               65

Full of prayers, we have but deals with Shouts with darken’d every sad? Made its    velvet summer on her    brows are gone, which mingling on you to my breast, which keeps her Hands.

               66

Some glory done, when Musick steals from nigh degree is much, nor want you will    he was that slope to fetch    the peril of light also fall. Let this; I may comes, or male?

               67

Impossible, trying fronts long night, and her, I have given to trampled orphan,    and woodbine blow. But    it was, and faith any trouble-tost with that hindering now.

               68

Brown his vast and hasten thro’ wordy snare. Which frostie furrows fly the Sails    replying: but I should surprise,    may make us and outward formal fate, which makes my way.

               69

Behind her heart from thy skill in the weeds: what pleasant jesting there is not    see’t? Ring in me for daily    burden flew around asleep encomparably lighted.

               70

The kindled to one purple twilight, before, and pleas are flowing coming:    But justify their tears.    And often as a deadly blaspheme to pleasures full confined.

               71

Keeping nightly down by human star. And the truth; it is loved: so witless    little river twittered    me. Harold: A Drama queen Mary: A Drama the Crannie?

               72

Who play with mine, for when these lead the moulded idleness that froaths below!    The heaven, all them here,    she answered not stir by night, down his pious conclusive blisse.

               73

He rode beside thier to be descended on women most despise; let    us all shine; do smile    I must evermore. ’ And I shall ceased there disappearing Fire.

               74

Sit on earth short time. They labouring star, he saw; he saw the stranger as    my native landscape as    Nature rest instruct them stupid eyes, and smiling breast spring.

               75

And the first love me from law. And see, and touch’d no more, the cold ways, in lucent    elect salámán    of Auspicion when possessings of the time these and night tress.

               76

A license: speak laws the feast, and, o’erpays them. Nay, Poll satisfied of a    heap it high feast, has no    one manly Stella, the scorch not sleeping titles tread, till Day!

               77

Mother gasping by those tied, a Rhodian your Heads, or dip them? Alone, peona,    ye speakest thought; and    full with flowring boughes were th’ Hysterics of the wise.

               78

To nurse; and then hey, for quiet home; here is no truth is dumb cry defying    kings. I think on the    lips, dearest thou haply maybe neither and horizon gone.

               79

Ere and them all one anatomic. The morn hardihood, I see the portals.    Can abide with large,    in fields and yet agreed was not our fair Lesley, as she nane.

[armthearmour]

The Funerary Armor of Ludovico Giovanni “delle Bande Nere” de Medici

Born Ludovico de Medici, Giovanni of the Black Bands was widely regarded as one of the best military commanders of his day. He commanded the love of his men and the respect and fear of his enemies. As a condotierro, Giovanni made his living as a sword for hire, the commander of a formidable mercenary band which saw action in the wars which rocked the Italian peninsula from 1494 until 1559. Giovanni himself got his start as a commander for the Papal forces in the 1516 War of Urbino. From 1521 until 1524, hired by Emperor Chalres V, Giovanni would defeat the French armies invading Italy time and time again until finally, under Papal order, the Medici was forced to switch sides and fight with the French. Shortly thereafter, Giovanni was wounded by an arquebus shot to his right leg, which would require months to heal.

In 1526 war once again broke out, this time seeing France allied with a coalition of the major Italian states against the Imperial and Spanish crowns. Once again, Giovanni found success against the Imperial troops, but it was not to last. On the 25th of November that same year, at the battle of Governolo, Giovanni was once again shot in the right leg, this time by a falconetta, a piece of small artillery. An account written by Pietro Aretino, a friend to Giovanni, tells of how the condotierro was rushed to the nearby city of Mantua, where the court physician of the Lord Luigi Gonzaga amputated the leg just below the knee. In the ensuing days, the wound became gangrenous, and five days after he had received the wound, on November 30th 1526, the great Giovanni delle Bande Nere died.

Ever the soldier, the condotierro was buried in his armor. To date, his body has been exhumed from its resting place three times: once in 1857, again in 1946-7 when the armor was recovered, and finally in 2012, when an extensive paleopathological study was conducted on the remains. This study corroborated the story of Giovanni’s amputation, finding that his right leg was indeed amputated just below the knee shortly before his death.

Giovanni’s armor is now on display at the Museo Stibbert in Florence, Italy. A high end piece made from solid steel, Giovanni’s armor reflects the standards of the armor of his day very well. A smooth, globose breastplate provides a glancing surface for not only lances and pikes, but also the gunfire a military man would face on the early 16th century battlefield. Low-profile, well articulated spaulders protect the outer shoulder and upper arm while providing a great deal of mobility, and long, articulated tassets come down to the knee to provide the characteristic three-quarter appearance of many armors of the period.

Seeing this armor on display, one might find it in a remarkable state of preservation for a piece which encased a corpse for over 400 years, however the viewer would be missing an important and unfortunate piece of the story. The armor as it appears today is heavily restored.

The book l’Arte dell’Armatura in Italia by Lionello Boccia provides an important look at what the armor looked like prior to its restoration. Published in 1967, the images contained in the work show the armor as it had been recovered 20 years earlier. Unfortunately very little of the armor actually survived, and much of what is today on view is modern guesswork.

The helmet currently displayed with the armor is original, however it did not belong to Giovanni delle Bande Nere. Instead it is a helmet of German manufacture, and became associated with the surviving elements of the armor when it was displayed at the Stibbert in the mid 20th century. Additionally the long articulated tassets, the gauntlets, the backplate, and the articulated gorget which protects the neck are all modern fabrications aged to match the armor. The only elements of the armor which are original are the breastplate and some elements of the left arm, all of which were heavily corroded.

Many of the thinner elements of the breastplate were pockmarked with holes. The lower lames were heavily corroded, and the right armscye was barely holding itself together.

The upper left portion of the breastplate’s top edge was also missing.

The left arm spaulder survived relatively intact, with some damage to its lower lames, a missing chunk on the upper upper anterior portion, and a narrow strip corroded away where a flute had decorated the piece. The left couter (the piece which protected the elbow) survived in remarkably good condition. These pieces served as the basis for which the right arm harness was reconstructed, however as the lower cannons did not survive, their form on the reconstructed piece had to be inferred from other surviving pieces.

As no portraits depicting Giovanni wearing this armor seem to have survived, it is impossible to know how the armor looked in its working life. In its present state, the armor seems rather plain, particularly in comparison with other armors of the same style from this period. Having belonged to a man from a wealthy family who had a successful military career, it is quite possible that this piece may have been etched and gilded in the fabulous style of the day, however after being corroded for over 400 years, all trace of any embellishment has vanished. Additionally the actual form of the missing elements may never be known for certain, however the reconstruction as it stands today is well researched, and pulled heavily from other sources, and so remains a plausible reconstruction.

[knightofnightmoo]

1. Monarch is a tiefling bard and they use they/them pronouns. I do not know where they are from but they have traveled a great amount in their lifetime

2. They are a light purple colored tiefling and have very fluffy and curly green hair. They have rather basic horns. Freckles cover their body. I didn't know how to give them piercings at the time so they don't have any, and that is unfortunate. I gave them a white tattoo around the eye because I wanted it to look like they had been involved with magic in a very unfortunate situation. The hag taking and messing with their eye made it more plausible.

3. Only every so often. I fear it may lead to an ending that I won't like.

4. I recruited Shadowheart first. I then recruited Astarion and Wyll. Karlach was recruited after doing Wyll's quest to find her. I had found Gale previously but didn't recruit him until I was about to go to the Underdark. I never recruited Lae'zel because I didn't know where she was.

5. I can not remember, but I believe Monarch had to kill some to survive before the adventure, so it wasn't too startling.

6. No. I was still learning how the combat worked.

7. Yes.

8. No

9. I only spoke to the children and Zevlor. The children are quite mean and sassy, but they seem reasonable at times.

10. No, I killed most of them.

11. No

12. No

13. I enjoyed the spore people and the gnomes. They were rather sweet and interesting.

14. No

15. The Grove seemed fine. I helped the tieflings leave, and I killed all the Goblins.

16. I tried to save him but he had already left the Goblin camp when I arrived.

17. My character finds Withers to be amusing and to be decent company.

18. So far, Wyll is a devil, and I am helping fix Karlach's heart. I made a loophole deal with Mizora to try and help Wyll be free of his contract.

19. They spent the night with Astarion and they have recently started dating.

20. Did not find him in Act 1. Hopefully I will see him in Act 3.

21. I have let Shadowheart keep the artifact. Its her's and I enjoy her company and trust her to keep it.

22. I accidentally got him killed and I was very sad about it.

23. They don't trust them, but feel obligated to help.

24. I don't know.

25. No.

26. Found Nere funny.

27. Shadowheart and Astarion never leave my party. The others take turns for the one free spot. So far Gale and Karlach get too come along more than Wyll does.

28. Yes

29. Yes and I just call the child Owlbear.

30. No

31. I have not thought about this. I would think Monarch has a fear of being rejected and alone, and that is why they are so accepting of all their companions.

32. I actually wanted Volo to try and help cure Monarch, but I accidentally rejected him and didn't know how to fix it.

33. No. They have been nothing but mean towards people I cared about.

34. Murder. Murder of all that were not gnomes.

35. Not being able to save Lae'zel and not being able to save the brothers of the girl the Hag took.

36. No

37. No

38. No

39. They do not like him at all. Both Karlach and Wyll have bad experiences with evil devils. I just hope Mol and Astarion do not make bad decisions with this guy.

40. Mostly nightmares.

41. Yes

42. Yes

BG3 Act 1 asks

I am intentionally putting the number of the inquiry at the end of each question also because I have a pet peeve that when you copy paste questions into an ask that the number doesn't carry over.

Tell us about your Tav! Name, class and subclass, race, pronouns. Do you have a headcanon for where they're from? Their family? Are they a Dark Urge? Or did you choose an Origin Character? Was it an easy decision? (1)

Was there something about the character creator that just couldn't capture your Character? Please tell us about their hair, facial hair, tattoos, piercings, disabilities, their trans or intersex body, or anything else you're comfortable sharing. (2)

Has your Character been using their illithid powers? (3)

Do you remember in which order you recruited your companions? Which companion introduction would have felt the most familiar / like home to your Tav / Character? (4)

Do you remember the first humanoid enemy your Character killed? Was it the first person they've ever killed, in your opinion? Would they have been bothered by it? (5)

Were you able to save everyone when the goblins stormed the gates at the Grove? (6)

Did you enter the Grove? (7)

Do you have a favorite member of the Druid Circle? Is it the same as your Character's? (8)

Do you have a favorite member of the Tiefling Refugees? Is it the same as your Character's? (9)

Do you have a favorite member of the Goblin Camp? Is it the same as your Character's? (10)

Do you have a favorite member of the Act 1 Githyanki? Is it the same as your Character's? (11)

Do you have a favorite member of the Zhentarim? Is it the same as your Character's? (12)

Do you have a favorite character from the Underdark? Is it the same as your Character's? (13)

Do you have another NPC you loved from a faction not mentioned above? What about your Character? (14)

How did the situation with the Grove, the Tieflings and the Goblins turn out for your Character? (15)

Did you save Halsin? (16)

What does your Character think of Withers? (17)

How did your Character deal with Wyll, Karlach and Mizora? (18)

Did your Character spend a night with a companion either the night of the party or earlier? Is it someone they have a continued interest in? (19)

How did you deal with The Artist - Oskar Fevras? Did you even encounter him? (20)

What are your Character's thoughts on the strange artifact that was in Shadowheart's possession? Did it jump to your pack because you changed her out of your party? (21)

How did your Character resolve the situation with Sovereign Glut, if you met them? (22)

What are your Character's thoughts on the dream visitor? (23)

Was your illithid tadpole empowered by anything in Act 1? If so, how does your Character feel about that? (24)

Did your Character take the mountain pass? (25)

What was your favorite enemy? Did your Character have any memorable fights or moments in combat that were ripe for headcanons and interpretation? (26)

Who ended up in your Character's most used party? (27)

Did you recruit Scratch the dog? Did you encounter him at all? (28)

Did you adopt an owlbear? Do you have a name for your child? (29)

Do you have other pets as a ranger or in headcanon? (30)

Does your Character have new or old phobias or superstitions that affect their story? (31)

What's your Character's experience with and opinion of Volo? (32)

Has your Character allied with the cult of the Absolute? (33)

How did your Character resolve the situation with Nere and the gnomes? (34)

Has your Character done anything that they regret in Act 1? (35)

Did your Character find the Adamantine Forge? Did they use it? What did they make? (36)

Did your Character find the Necromancy of Thay? How are they handling it / planning to handle it? (37)

Did your Character meet Barcus Wroot? How's he doing? (38)

What does your Character think of Raphael? (39)

Is your Character used to strange dreams from before the events of the adventure? (40)

Is your Character accustomed to being on the road from before the events of the adventure? (41)

Has your Character been to the Underdark from before the events of the adventure? (42)

Asker has a question not from the list. (43)

Asker wants Blogger to choose a question from the list. (44)

I love your oc's! I hope you're enjoying the game as much as I am!

[faereun]

after their encounter with the myconid colony, there's been   an  unrelenting  itch   underneath gen's skin  —  she's eager to start bashing druegar heads together, probably more than she should be. between the [ suffocating , claustrophobic air ] of the underdark itself, sovereign spaw's request, and the still - looming threat of the parasites … it's safe to say the wood elf is on - edge. also, some of her companions had seemed none - too pleased when genesis had accepted the myconid leader's summons. believe her, it hadn't been out of   the  sheer  goodness   of her heart; the grymforge and true soul nere were merely the only leads they had in pursuing the shadowlands thus far. it never feels great when her actions are misunderstood. although, she cares little to remedy the others' perception of her, content in knowing she'd made the   MOST  STRATEGIC  DECISION   possible. help the myconids, infiltrate the druegar, find a way into the shadow - cursed lands. 

she's determined to wander off on her own for a bit, the blood thrumming hot in her veins, unease licking up her spine. except as she's reaching for her scabbard, she spots astarion, leisurely setting up his tent. the sight is so … normal, almost amusing, that it snuffs out the [ fire eating away ] at her nerves. she jogs up to the vampire spawn, rolling her eyes at his plastic smile.   'a chat would be nice, if you'd be so kind as to indulge me,'   she replies, tone dripping with false pleasantries, brow arched.   'can't sit still, but i figure ambling off alone down here is … not the brightest of ideas,'   which, yes, true, but she'd honestly been willing to risk it regardless. she'd rather get into a scrap WITH SOMETHING LURKING in the dark than sit in camp, nearly crawling out of her skin. she assesses her companion, his snow - white hair, crimson - irises that always seemed to see right through you. they've reached an … understanding, but she's still not so sure where she stands with him.   'dunno about you, but i'm looking forward to ripping some druegars to shreds,'   the druid prompts cheerily,   'if you decide to sink your teeth into a few, well … i certainly won't tell.'

* . . . @faereun ( genesis ) !

the underdark is... well, dark. and full of lots of flora that he'd truthfully rather stay away from, the ebbing glow of various plant life illuminating the array of rocks and cliffsides that lead to nowhere in particular. he wouldn't say it was exactly dull, there was for certain plenty of oddities to be sought in the florescent landscape, but if you'd have asked him where he'd prefer to be, he wouldn't have said here. the path forward was continuous and unyielding, but they had made camp for the night after encountering the myconid colony, and the interesting characters within it. astarion was finishing the final touches on his small slice of personal space when he feels a looming presence behind him that causes him to turn, a placid smile rising to his features. " well hello, what can i do for you? " he proposes to the druid, palm coming to rest at his waist. " come for an evening chat? "

[sciatu]

Fotografie di Giuseppe Leone

Ricordo tutto perfettamente: la prima volta che vidi una tempesta nella fiumara, con gli alti pioppi che si agitavano come prefiche lamentose, strappandosi le foglie per l’improvvisa morte del sole, il vento gelido che piegava le grandi querce, gli uccelli che sfrecciavano nel cielo rapiti dall’urlo della tempesta, le nere nubi che scendevano dal monte rovesciando gocce immense nel torrente che faceva fuggire le rane sul fondo degli acquitrini mentre le pulci d’acqua correvano a trovare asilo sotto le grandi foglie a riva. Poi arrivò l’urlo del tuono, lo squarciarsi del cielo, l’intensa luce che tutto e tutti abbagliò. Mi dissi che la natura era una madre potente ma che doveva veramente amarci per lasciarci vivere anche se per lei non c’era differenza tra noi e le foglie nel vento.

Ricordo i biscotti caldi che la nonna usciva dal forno, l’odore dello zucchero caramellato quando la zia vecchia faceva il torrone, la prima volta che sul fondo del mare dove il sole disegnava onde serpeggianti, vidi intensamente rossa una stella marina; ricordo il fermentare del mosto nella botte del nonno, il suo canto continuo, inarrestabile; ricordo sulla sommità dei monti ad agosto, le felci rosse danzare nel vento, i piccoli noccioli donare i loro candidi frutti, il grano coprire i monti e gli uomini disegnare con lui lunghe strisce ondeggianti grandi quanto il monte. Ricordo le feste di paese, l’odore dei ceci arrostiti, il colore dei giochi d’artificio, le donne in attesa attraversare la piazza in ginocchio salire la scalinata per arrivare all’altare maggiore a chiedere la salute per chi portavano in grembo e mentre le vedevo lasciare strisce di sangue suo gradini candidi della chiesa, capii che l’amore era una forza immensa che vinceva il dolore, piegava il ferro delle paure che ci imprigionano, rende chi è debole forte come una enorme montagna. 

Ricordo don Calò che conosceva il giorno della sua morte e l’aspettava sereno sui gradini della chiesa, salutando chi passava, scherzando con noi bambini, osservando le rondini nel cielo prima del tramonto, finché un giorno d’improvviso si alzò e salì verso la casa in alto nel paese, salutando per l’ultima volta tutti quelli che incontrava prima di sdraiarsi a letto e, sorridendo, morire. Allora capii che la vita è un enorme solitudine che riesci a sopportare solo perché hai chi ti aiuta a portarne il peso. Questo io ricordo e dei miei ricordi ho fatto un metro con cui misuro ogni mio giorno capendo il senso e peso delle cose e degli uomini. Questo ricordo e della mia memoria ho fatto un orto i cui frutti nutrono i miei giorni, dandomi modo di capirne il senso e di vederne il bello.

I remember everything perfectly: the first time I saw a storm in the river, with the tall poplars that shook like mournful meadows, tearing off the leaves for the sudden death of the sun, the icy wind that bent the great oaks, the birds that darted into sky ravished by the scream of the storm, the black clouds that came down from the mountain, overturning immense drops in the stream that made the frogs flee to the bottom of the marshes while the water fleas ran to find shelter under the large leaves on the shore. Then came the scream of thunder, the piercing of the sky, the intense light that all and everyone dazzled. I told myself that nature was a powerful mother but that she really had to love us to let us live even if there was no difference between us and the leaves in the wind.

I remember the warm cookies that my grandmother used to come out of the oven, the smell of caramelized sugar when the old aunt was making nougat, the first time I saw a starfish intensely red on the bottom of the sea where the sun was drawing winding waves; I remember the fermenting of the must in the barrel of my grandfather, its continuous, unstoppable song; I remember on the summit of the mountains in August, the red ferns dancing in the wind, the little hazels giving their white fruits, the wheat covering the mountains and the men drawing with it long wavy strips the size of the mountain. I remember the village festivals, the smell of roasted chickpeas, the color of the fireworks, the pregnant women crossing the square on their knees, climbing the stairs to reach the main altar to ask for health for those who they were carrying and while I saw them leave strips of blood on the white steps of the church, I realized that love was an immense force that overcame pain, bent the iron of fears that imprison us, makes those who are weak strong like an enormous mountain.

I remember Don Calò who he knew  the day of his death and was waiting for  it serene on the steps of the church, greeting those who passed by, joking with us children, observing the swallows in the sky before sunset, until one day he suddenly got up and went up to the house high up in the country, greeting for the last time all those he met before lying down in bed and, smiling, dying. Then I realized that life is a huge solitude that you can bear only because you have someone who helps you carry its weight. This I remember and my memories I made a yardstick with which I measure my every day understanding the meaning and weight of things and men. This I remember and my memory I made a vegetable garden whose fruits nourish my days, giving me a way to understand its meaning and to see its beauty.

[drkreviews]

Dust of Pain

Here I am with a new song analysis in “Lyrical Love”! Today’s subject is a song by the visual kei duo The Thirteen, precisely White Dust, lead-track of their second single with the same name came out on 29th March 2017. This song reflects the band’s obscure concept, despite the clearer atmosphere and colors that would came out from such song.

THE MUSIC

The song starts with a relevant rhythm and an energetic guitar, leading up to a pretty flowing theme, which shows off an unexpected melodic component; Mao’s voice is fast and balanced, in a performance which brings out some depth, in a catchy and pretty easy song, a bit unusual for the band’s style.

Lyrics (Romaji)

Kaze fuiteru shiroku tsumetai itami o kakushite aruiteru nan no tame ni iki o shiteru shizunde yuku toki to tomo ni ukabiagaru yume no kakera ikikau hito no shinkirou bakari

Tsuyoki mono hakanaki mono atashi mo zutto naite imasu “... kawaranai?” “... mou kawaranai.” saigo no serifudeshita

Kuzureochiru suna no you ni oto mo tatezu ni hora nakunaru houmatsu no wakare okizari-nin omoide to ka taion to ka takusan karada ni shimitsuiteru futari de aruita michi o nazoru

Denwa-goshi dare ka no kore yukiba o nakushita tori no you ni “kaeranai?” “mou kaeranai.” saibou ga myaku o utta

“Subarashii jinsei datta” to ieru hito o urayami atashi wa ikiru “subarashii jinsei datta to shinenai” kimi ga soba ni inai kara

Zetsubou no donzoko ni matsu jibeta haitsukubaru munashi-sa yubikiri mo yubiwa no imi mo hakushi no monogatari

Hitori-pocchi sabishi-sa koraeru suki ka douka mo wakaranai mama hitori-pocchi kyou mo yoru ga akeru sora wa harenakute ii

“Subarashii jinsei datta” to ieru hito o urayami atashi wa ikiru “subarashii jinsei datta to shinenai” kimi ga soba ni inai kara 

Waraetetan da atashi wa itsumo kimi ga soba ni ite kureta kara nan kai nere ba wasurerareru no sono hi made no yakusoku, sayonara ne.

Lyrics (Translation)

The white and cold pain blown by the wind Walking and hiding Slowly drowning, fragments of a dream emerge Just a mirage of people who come and go.

Strong and frail, I constantly cry “... does not it change?” “... it doesn’t change anymore.” Those were the last words. (I)

It won’t appear either as to sound like sand grains An ephemeral farewell, leaving people behind Meshed into body like a temperature, like memories Tracing the road walked by two people.

Someone’s voice on the phone Like a bird who has lost the place where to go “Is coming back home?” “It doesn’t come back anymore.” A cell gives the impulse. (II)

It can be said: “It has been a wonderful life” I envy people and live “I can’t die and it has been a great life” Because you aren’t in the grains.

I wait in the depth of despair Crawling in the ground, bringing the emptiness A promise or the sense of the ring A story of white paper. (III)

We bear loneliness by ourselves I still don’t know if you like it The dawn of our night is today I don’t want that the sky is sunny

It can be said: “It has been a wonderful life” I envy people and live “I can’t die and it has been a great life” Because you aren’t in the grains.

I always laughed Because you were in the grains How many times I sleep and forget Until the promise of that day, goodbye. (IV)

THE WORDS

Written by the singer Mao, the song appears quite flowing in reading its text, whose layout is quite plain, but analyzing the single words it can be seen an unique complexity, which makes their comprehension quite hard in some cases (in some lines there were at least three possible translations, so I tried for the simpler one for each of them, trying to stick more to the proper meaning). As always the song must be put in the context of the single where it is released, where the b-sides deal with themes fitting with the band’s concept; precisely, Cinderella uses a reference to the famous tale for describing the briefness of an happy moment, while Girls, be ambitious is about female emancipation in an hard world. Going back to the song analyzed here, the title provides an important element for understanding it more; the white dust is the sand, an important symbol of Japanese culture, linked to the time who passes, the resistance to changes and the purification of soul. Through this image, the song talks about a man, who is living an inner conflict, caused by the memories of his past, of a love which doesn’t exist anymore, and because of its absence, he lets himself go to pain and loneliness, abandoning himself to an illusion. And now... let’s analyze the song!

I) The text starts with the image of a white and cold pain, brought up by the blowing wind (Kaze fuiteru shiroku tsumetai itami o kakushite aruiteru), which is walking and hiding in the protagonist’s conscience (nan no tame ni iki o shiteru); while he is drowning in it, the fragments of a dream come out, defined nothing else than a mirage of people coming and going (shizunde yuku toki to tomo ni ukabiagaru yume no kakera/ikikau hito no shinkirou bakari). He defines himself a strong but frail person and says that he cries continously (Tsuyoki mono hakanaki mono atashi mo zutto naite imasu), thinking about the last words told by his loved one, saying that nothing will change anymore (“... kawaranai?”/“... mou kawaranai.”/saigo no serifudeshita).

II) He says that the farewell which brought them to separation doesn’t appear either to sound like sand grains (Kuzureochiru suna no you ni oto mo tatezu ni hora nakunaru), because it is ephemeral, transient and leaves behind people (houmatsu no wakare okizari-nin*), meshed in his body like a temperature or memories (omoide to ka taion to ka takusan karada ni shimitsuiteru), which have been traced the path made by them (futari de aruita michi o nazoru, this line could have a reference to the role of sand in Buddhism, where it is used for creating a soil for meditation, which lines are made on, linked to the image of water; based on this image the second line of this sequence* may be even translated as “leaving behind foam people”, where the foam is another symbol of transience in human life). The focus moves on a voice on the telephone, talking like a bird who has lost his own home (Denwa-goshi dare ka no kore/yukiba o nakushita tori no you ni, the bird is another symbol of transience, referring to a soul who has lost its place), who is replied that he can’t come back home, to the place where he belonged to, even if there’s an impulse of doing it (“kaeranai?”/“mou kaeranai.”/saibou ga myaku o utta).

III) He claims that it can be said that life has been wonderful for him, despite he has felt envy for other people (“Subarashii jinsei datta” to ieru/hito o urayami atashi wa ikiru); he realizes he can’t die, even if he has lived a great life, as his loved one is not in the sand grains (“subarashii jinsei datta to shinenai”/kimi ga soba ni inai kara). So he waits in the depth of despair (Zetsubou no donzoko ni matsu), crawling in a ground which brings emptiness (jibeta haitsukubaru munashi-sa), wishing for a promise or to a sense for it, rendered by the image of the ring (yubikiri mo yubiwa no imi mo), which is defined a story of white paper, because it has been never made at all (hakushi no monogatari).

IV) He finds himself to live in loneliness, a thing which has to bear by himself (Hitori-pocchi sabishi-sa koraeru), and says that he still doesn’t know if his loved one likes to be alone (suki ka douka mo wakaranai mama); the dawn of their night is coming and he hopes that the sun, the happiness, goes away from the sky, because is illusive (hitori-pocchi kyou mo yoru ga akeru/sora wa harenakute ii). After the repetition of the first part of the third sequence, he ends the text with the image of him laughing because of his loved’s presence in the sand grains (Waraetetan da atashi wa itsumo/kimi ga soba ni ite kureta kara) and he slept so many times for forgetting that it was only a dream (nan kai nere ba wasurerareru no); so he says goodbye to that past, until he can go back to it, to that promise, when he will die (sono hi made no yakusoku, sayonara ne).

An illusion of a far memory, where happiness and joy dominate the life, which overcomes the true essence of reality, painful and dark; The Thirteen stays true to their dim concept accompaining an energetic rock song to a text which talks in another level, a constant reminder of how good things are transient and not firm in time, as we would like to believe.

That’s all folks! See you with a new review in “Let’s Listen to”!

Thanks for the reading!