#⟦ 🜂 ' OF AVERNUS ( zariel ). ⟧

[sunsetagain]

Baldur's Gate 3: My heart's An Empty Vase Looking For Roses

Ship: Karlach + non-ascendant Astarion

based on Descent into Avernus

free talk at the end

中文版

I wrote then canceled two comics after wrapping up Byzantine Generals. For a while I thought I lost my comic making ability forever, until BG3 stormed into my life.

Cover lyrics were written by Tender Henk from Singing Lute inn, on a sheet of paper on the desk in the room where Karlach's romance scene takes place. It suits her so well yet she calls him the worst guy she ever met LOL can't blame her bc what in the hells is Jableeda?

NGL I played Karlach in my first BG3 playthrough because her engine reminded me of the thirium pump of a DBH android. Romancing Astarion with her felt like Romancing Kamski with an android to me in the first place LMAO some pretty ancient headcanon like little boy Elijah being bullied in school built a buff RT600 Chloe to be his bodyguard blablabla

Then she and Astarion became my OTP and I played both of them to romance each other, tried every possibility i could think of.

So this comic is just a small talk about a big plan between Karlach and spawn Astarion after the ending of the game. Based on Descent into Avernus. I'm no DnD player so apologize in advance in case of any mistakes. OOC belongs to me.

[tshortik]

In my Descent into Avernus campaign Zariel is sporting more of a wrestler Mad Max queen kinda fashion as she bodies demons into the ground

[chiefpurpleimp]

DONE ... mostly. Just the border to do.

This piece has consumed whatever little free time I have. I'm sorry for the spam 🤣. I'm just so very slow at drawing 😅.

I have other pieces planned but they will have to wait until I've finished some work and other things.

Hellriders in Avernus against Zariels armies.

[thebestbeearts]

LIKE TO SLAP HER BALD HEAD REBLOG TO SLAP HER BALD HEAD (You will die)

[scuttlingcrab]

Short one for ya!

Raphael reacting to waking up to his little mouse tending to his injuries?

Thank you so much for sending me the prompt, really enjoyed writing this! Hopefully the first of many one-shots of Raphael in the Hells. x

Summary: With the help of Tav, Raphael fights against Zariel for his seat in Avernus. Much to Raphael's dismay, the fight ends up being more difficult than he anticipated.

Notes: Mild violence as Raphael fights for his life. Tav is depicted as gender neutral.

Link to my other work in the Devil's Archive.

Inferna Victoria

(Image via red-dead-sakharine)

Raphael stood atop a towering mound of corpses, surveying the growing battlefield before him. Mighty horned devils, lemure foot soldiers, and various other fallen imps and fiends had become indistinguishable amid the carnage of constant battle.

Thick blood oozed from thousands of bodies, slowly trickling into the River Styx. Raging flames from Zariel’s toppled flying fortresses licked the orange coloured skies of Avernus, enveloping the surrounding area in a dense layer of black smoke. Before long the sky itself was nearly covered in total oblivion from the twisted wreckage, giving the illusion of the deepest, darkest night.

For Raphael it was just another day in Avernus as he fought against Zariel and her forces, obliterating anything she threw at him. The Crown of Karsus rested comfortably on his head throughout the combat, never shifting as he charged through the chaos, slaying one enemy after another. The newfound power of the Crown was fused to his core, amplified by the pulsing Sceptre of Karsus he gripped in his hand.

Despite the extraordinary amount of strength surging through Raphael’s veins, enough to topple cities with the snap of his fingers, a nagging thought still tore at the back of his mind; slowly chipping away at the once sturdy walls of his morale. There was a possibility, although minute, that this battle would not end in his favour.

Raphael desired nothing but a grand victory, to set the stage for the later acts to come, but he would have to fight until the bitter end to secure his spot in Avernus. An undignified beginning to uniting the Hells. 

As much as he hated to admit it, the fight hadn’t been without its challenges. Zariel had proven to be a formidable opponent, her years of fighting in the Blood War and her fixation on barbarity moulded her into a sheer powerhouse. He had entered the battlefield expecting to easily crush an ant under his boots, but was left dealing with a persistent ironclad beetle.

They had been fighting relentlessly for nearly a week without proper respite and Raphael could feel his powers gradually depleting, each movement slower than the last. 

Earlier that day, in an attempt to avoid the poisonous bite of a pit fiend, Raphael had left himself wide open. As he ripped the fiend’s head off like a rag doll, crushing the skull between his fists, Zariel hit him with one of her javelins. It tore through his armour, leaving a gaping hole in his side. Raphael cursed, breaking the javelin in half and skewering two adjacent horned devils in response. 

Raphael knew he needed to recharge, to heal his injuries, but that alone would cause Zariel to advance where he had previously pushed back. No. He would proceed as planned. Raphael would not rest until he had her head displayed on a spike for all the Hells to see.

The wounds still stung as Raphael stepped to the side, deflecting another attack from Zariel. He ignored the pain as he threw her back with a raging thunder wave. She teleported behind Raphael in a crackle, raising her longsword for another strike. Zariel bared her teeth, slashing desperately at Raphael, pushing him closer towards the edge of the mound. They began a strange dance, moving in irregular circles around each other as they both strived to land a finishing blow. 

Tav’s war cries carried on from below, easing Raphael’s nerves. They fought alone near the base of the mound, keeping the growing legions of Zariel’s forces at bay. Hearing their shouts, the sounds of their steel cutting through flesh, was an odd relief to Raphael. It was his way of monitoring Tav, knowing they still fought alongside him. That they were safe. 

He had amassed his own army, slowly building up his forces over the centuries of unabated scheming. They were all dispensable, even his greatest commanders were meaningless to him. Raphael could care less whether or not these devils perished in battle, they only served as pawns in his grand ambitions. Tav was Raphael’s greatest weapon, what he cherished more than the very Artefacts of Karsus he sought for a millennia. 

Raphael quickly glanced in Tav’s direction as he ducked, narrowly avoiding Zariel’s sword as she sliced the air above him. Tav was simply marvellous, a stunning sight to behold on the battleground. Pit fiends snarled and howled as they tried to reach Raphael, but Tav struck them down. They were relentless and precise with every movement, showing no mercy. 

There was a time when Raphael would’ve been on the receiving end of Tav’s sword; back when the threat of the Elder Brain still loomed high over Faerûn and Raphael had all the time in the world to play with his food. He did not pity any fiends who faced their wrath.

Zariel lunged at Raphael’s side, digging her talons into his open wounds. Raphael grunted, the sudden influx of pain causing him to fall into Zariel. He latched on to her legs as he toppled over the mound, bringing her down with him. Their bodies increased in speed as they fell, rolling continuously against each other. Raphael’s vision blurred, his world spinning out of control as his head slammed against Zariel’s armour. He released his grip on Zariel and dug his claws into the dirt, barely stopping himself from plunging headfirst into the River Styx. 

Raphael jumped to his feet, steadying himself as the ground stopped rocking. He spat in agony as he clutched his side. It throbbed, mimicking the erratic beat of his heart. Zariel had succeeded in wounding him a second time, increasing the size of the original puncture tenfold. His hands trembled as he made an effort to seal the injury, to keep the blood from pouring down his leg, but it was no use. He was no healer. He needed Tav for that. Later! He quickly prepared a shield, anticipating another attack from Zariel, but found the Archduchess still on her knees. She struggled to rise, stumbling over herself like a newborn fawn.

Raphael gasped, a massive wave of adrenaline smashing into his body. He had been gifted a rare moment of opportunity, as if the mistress of fate hand delivered it to Raphael herself. Without hesitation, Raphael summoned a silver sword in one hand, using his free palm to viciously snap his fingers. 

Thorny vines sprouted up around Zariel, latching onto her and pinning her further to the ground. She growled, thrashed, tore at the vines but they only tightened around her. Raphael flicked his wrist and the vines coiled at her neck, forcing Zariel to look in his direction. Zariel’s body flickered as she tried to teleport out of the bindings, but the thorns only ripped against her skin, leaving her armour in tatters.

“Alas, the mighty Zariel…” 

Raphael limped towards the Archduchess, leaving a trail of bloody footprints in his wake. It took all the power he had left to remain upright as he approached her. He wanted to howl in anguish with each quivering step. Intense bursts of pain flared through his bones, travelling from his heels to the tip of his skull. He held his chin high, his face stoic, empty of any emotions that might give away his true mental state. Raphael’s grip on the sword hilt tightened as he stared at Zariel, never breaking eye contact. 

She met his gaze with her own immolating stare, her white-hot eyes attempting to set Raphael ablaze but the flames merely rolled off his shoulders.

“Your reign has finally reached its conclusion.” 

“Spare me the theatrics, Raphael.” Zariel hissed, “even now you waste my time with these futile farces.”

The air was still, completely void of any sounds of death or destruction. Raphael inhaled through his gritted teeth, pinpointing his attention on Zariel. The surrounding landscape, rotting corpses, and remnants of battle slowly vanished. It was just Raphael and Zariel under a growing spotlight, standing on the very dais that Raphael had painstakingly constructed. 

Raphael remembered the exact moment he first craved Zariel’s demise; all the hours he spent indulging in fantasies about the various ways he would dethrone her, demoralising her in front of her legions of followers. Raphael had no master, he only served to benefit himself. For every soul Raphael delivered to Zariel throughout the centuries of service, he harboured two or three more to his own collection - steadily growing more powerful under her nose. He had hypothesised every possible outcome, made sure to plan if and when anything were to go awry, but he had never quite imagined this. Zariel, caught in his grasp like a worthless fly in a honey pot.

“I must thank you, dear Archduchess. Your corpse will make a fine trophy as I parade it throughout the Hells during my conquest…”

As Raphael raised his sword, Zariel shrieked, punching through the vines. She swung her flail, cracking it against Raphael’s skull. He stumbled back, immediately losing concentration on the spell. In a swift motion Zariel teleported, appearing in front of Raphael and thrusting her sword through his chest.

“NO!” Raphael roared, spurting blood from his mouth. 

Zariel was within inches of Raphael’s face, sneering at him as she pushed the sword deeper. The feeling of panic Raphael felt was like a jagged rock stuck in his larynx. He had witnessed that mocking grin once before, from his own father, as he grovelled at his feet in the Great Halls of Cania – begging for his acceptance. 

“Raphael!” Tav’s shouts were distant, echoing from all directions. He pushed them out of his mind, there was no time for consolation.

“This will not be my end!” 

A blue glow enveloped Raphael’s body, slowly pulsating as the light became hotter, brighter. Raphael’s pupils dilated, a small blue flame in his eyes growing more significant as he glowered at Zariel. The ground at his feet turned black from the immense heat radiating off his body, the radius increasing rapidly, incinerating any corpses that lay near him. 

Zariel’s eyes widened as she tried to step back but Raphael grabbed her shoulders. A sudden gush of lightning shot through his fingertips. Zariel’s screams were drowned out by the sound of electricity coursing through her. Raphael squeezed harder, releasing more lightning into her wretched form. Her leather wings melted, her pale skin withering from the heat.

Zariel fell to the floor, a useless heap of burnt flesh. Smoke rose from her body as she started laughing, the scent of blood and scorched skin filling the air. She tilted her head up at Raphael, the laughter growing more hysterical as she leered at him. Zariel’s glowing eyes and white fangs stood out against her now charcoal skin.

“You are a fool,” Zariel spoke in a pained whisper. “You will never succeed, you will never make it past Avernus.”  

Raphael clenched his fists, looking down at what remained of the once fearsome warrior.

“You were always meant to fail, Raphael… I will see–” 

Raphael didn’t allow Zariel to finish; he savagely stomped on her head, releasing all his pent up fury. He let out a primal scream so loud he hoped it would travel to the very pits of Nessus. Raphael would come for them all in due time. Let them see what he was truly capable of. He smashed and smashed until Zariel’s laughter stopped, until her body was a discoloured pulp under his boots. 

“When I have united the Hells, I will think fondly on this moment...” Raphael spoke, his voice soft as if strained.

Raphael suddenly fell to his knees, feeling light headed. His breathing grew short and unstable. His ears rang and he shook his head to get rid of the irritating noise, to focus his attention back on the combat… but he found himself keeling over. He lay on his side, staring towards the war that was still being fought in his name.

The weight of the sword grew heavier as he inhaled, each breath like a new laceration. He carefully shifted on his back to ease the pain. Raphael placed a hand on his chest, feeling the warmth of the blood as it continued to leak out of the wound. 

He smiled as he looked up at the murky skies of Avernus, watching as a fiery comet shot through the clouds. These skies now belonged to him.  

A tall figure approached Raphael from his periphery. As they grew closer, their shape became more distinct. A slender form, broad shoulders, pointed ears… Tav. They lurched towards him, throwing their weapons aside as they fell to their knees, hugging him. 

Tav wrinkled their brow as they ran a jerky hand across Raphael’s face. Their expression grew more troubled as they observed his state, their eyes quickly turning into a watery gaze. Raphael met their concern with a smile as he felt his eyelids grow heavier. Tav began to speak, frantic words, shouts, but it was all incomprehensible to Raphael. He felt his body lifted, his arms dangling to the side as he soon lost consciousness.  

–––

Raphael drifted, null of any previous pain or grievances. His mind was empty of any thoughts or emotions. Everything was calm, too calm. What had become of him? How long had he been in this fugue state? Suspended in nothingless? As Raphael began to focus, he could feel a warm liquid embracing him, cradling him as if he was in a cocoon. His limbs tingled as he lay suspended, a warmth beating in his chest. 

Something soft brushed against his cheek, pulling him further out of the trance. It left another prickling sensation emanating through his face, creeping along his neck and back like tendrils. Raphael opened his eyes to find Tav looking down at him, stroking his swollen cheeks with a damp silk cloth. He was floating in his restorative bath, the red velvet curtains drawn between each column. Candles were peppered along the edge of the water, illuminating the bath in a cosy ambiance. 

When Tav met Raphael’s eyes, the memories returned to him, instantaneously flooding his intellect. He shot up, stumbling as he attempted to leave the bath. He fell against the marble stairs, reaching for the sword in his chest. But it was gone, a massive scar remained in its place, covering the span of his entire torso.

“No… I must resume! The fight is yet–”

“The fighting has ended. We have won.”

“We must press on if we are to…” 

Raphael reclined on the steps, panting heavily. His chest was tight, head pounding. Drops of blood dripped into the bath, slowly turning the clear waters crimson. The wound in his chest had reopened, not yet fully healed. 

“Bah!” Raphael yelled out in frustration, his voice vibrating throughout the boudoir. 

Tav rose to join him, calmly resting their hand on his shoulder. They dabbed the silk cloth in the water, bringing it to his chest. They lightly applied pressure to the wound, repeating the motion a few more times until the bleeding ceased. 

“Please, rest. I only speak the truth.”

“What of Zariel’s forces?”

“The ones I could not destroy fled in fear, hiding in the shadows like cowards. The rest have sworn their allegiance to you.”

Raphael tilted his head, searching Tav’s face for a hint of falsity. If they lied to him he would incinerate their mortal soul where they stood, no matter how much he cared for them. He peered deeper into their pale blue eyes but could sense nothing but the truth. 

“So it is done.” Raphael whispered. 

Tav nodded, watching Raphael with immense pride. 

Raphael expected to have felt more in this triumphant moment, but he experienced an odd numbness in place of celebration. His arduous labour, spanning across the millennia, had not gone to waste after all, but there was something missing. How anticlimactic. He let out a sigh, carefully allowing himself to loosen his muscles against the steps.

“Do not fret. You did well, Archdevil. I was proud to have fought at your side.”

Tav’s words, albeit kind in nature, struck harshly against Raphael’s face. Indeed, it had been a favourable outcome but he could only find the flaws in his tactics, fixating on all the things that went amiss. If he had slain Zariel faster he would already be on his way to vanquishing Dis. Raphael instinctively turned away from Tav, hiding his flushed cheeks. Tav softly grabbed Raphael’s chin, turning his gaze back to them.  

“Inferna Victoria.” Tav spoke, their eyes glittering in the candlelight. 

Raphael stiffened, his mouth hanging ajar as he locked eyes with Tav. 

“Inferna Victoria.” Raphael whispered in response. Uttering that phrase out loud, for the first time, reignited a spark in his being. Of course. How could he have forgotten? 

Raphael scanned his chest, now imperfect and riddled with souvenirs of the frontlines. He brought his hand to Tav’s cheeks, stroking their face. They nestled against his palm. His little mouse, his prized warrior.

Their moment was soon interrupted when Raphael felt the presence of a lingering debtor enter his boudoir.

"Speak." Raphael growled.

“Master. You have a message. I believe it is from Him.”

Raphael sat upright, as if Asmodeus had entered the quarters along with the debtor. Despite the warm bath surrounding him, a sharp chill ran up his spine. Tav touched his thigh, giving him a small reassuring nod.

The Archdevil had won his first battle, but there was only more to come.

[poohbearwish]

Gods above, the things I'd do to this man...

how I'd drain him of all his life essence ...

he wouldn't survive our encounter 😔

[sailorgundam308]

Random Forgotten Realms lore:

- Zariel doesn’t get tired, doesn’t need sleep (so she wouldn’t need a bed or bedroom)

- Devils don’t need to eat, but some will do it just cause

- The Blood War is the longest and most deadly conflict of the multiverse, and has been going on since time immemorial

- Avernus is rumored to have been a sort of fake garden of eden type of place made on purpose by Asmodeus to trick and tempt visitors (the land has since been utterly razed and forever changed into a wasteland by the Blood War)

- Devils and demons are the ones in conflict in the Blood War; the former are evil in an organized and hierarchical manner, the latter are evil and chaotic

- Demons inhabit a plane called the Abyss, that has infinite layers - which imply infinite numbers of demons (and no end to the Blood War)

- Zariel, a former celestial, understood that devils were the “less of two evils”, and if demons won the blood war they’d end up destroying the planes themselves (cause they just dgaf)

- Zariel lost one of her hands, instead having a flail in its place

- Avernus has a “hill” that is actually a scab on the surface of the land (fr)

[inaconstantstateofchange]

Hellish Landscape: Art in the Szarr Palace

The other day my friend and I were running through the Szarr palace on multi-player, and found this elaborate painting which neither of us had ever noticed before. It is in the cursed guest room where you can find the body of Victoria, on the wall directly to the right of the door as you walk through.

If you use Alt or hover your mouse over the painting, it reveals that it is titled Hellish Landscape. And that title could not be more accurate, because what it is depicting is the Descent into Avernus.

The winged figure at the top is none other than Zariel, recognizable by the flail she has in place of one hand. Behind her, that glowing circle is the Companion, the second sun that burned above Elturel for 50 years, before it turned into a portal that tore the city through into Avernus. Elturel itself can be seen below both the Companion and Zariel.

What is particularly interesting, in in-universe terms, is how quickly this painting was made, relative to Elturel's fall.

Another question it raises, based on the incredible detail of it all: who made this painting, what was their connection to Elturel or the Hells, and how did it come to be occupying a sole guest room in Szarr Palace?

Note: The lighting in Szarr palace is truly abysmal, so I took the painting to Sorcerous Sundries for a clearer reference. Here it is in its original position.

ETA: This painting can also be found in the secret vault behind the inert gem in the House of Hope.

[kirain]

Do you think Doni is nonverbal because he's autistic?

This is the second Doni ask I've received. Are you the same anon? I'm working on the other one, by the way. 😁

He certainly could be autistic, but personally I think he's traumatised. Zevlor and the other tieflings mention they're refugees and survivors from Elturel. Without going too in-depth, Elturel was a major city in the Western Heartlands of West Faerûn. Zariel, Archdutchess of Avernus, pulled the whole city into the hells, specifically into the River Styx. If Doni witnessed it while escaping, he would've seen something like this:

Terrifying. The city was sucked through a black hole, leaving nothing but a crater behind, and all the survivors were turned into devils to serve in the Blood War. This easily could have caused Doni's mustism, and if that is the case, I hope his voice recovers. It also explains why he put letters in rivers and addressed them to the Styx, hoping they would reach his father.

If anything, I'd argue he has hyperlexia, which is often (though not always) part of the autism spectrum. His writing is impeccable, especially in comparison to some of the other letters you can find. Mirkon's letter, for example, is typical for a boy his age; full of errors and small words. Though I personally think Doni's mutism is the result of trauma, he could very well be autistic, too.

[maevesweirdart]

art is so haaaaard T_T i have been working on this painting for so long. i have lost all perspective and i have no idea whether or not it looks good…

anyway here’s Karlach in Avernus with (redesigned!) Zariel looming ominously in the distance (i have no idea how tall she is so i have decided to make her a kaiju)

[blackjackkent]

Fresh Meat

Pairing: Karlach/Tav (at end of fic) Characters: Karlach, Florenta the Garroter, Custom Male Tav (Hector Carlisle) Rating: G Warnings: Dark Themes Descriptors: Flashback, Military Backstory, Dark, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Happy/Bittersweet Ending Chapter Word Count: 2.2k Chapter Setting: Ten years pre-game, then early Act 3

Summary: 

Memories of a young Karlach's first days in Zariel's army.

This fic is a character study investigation of some of Karlach's experiences in Avernus, inspired by this gorgeous and devastating piece of art by @featherwurm. Please go check them out; their Karlach-related art is some of my favorite in the fandom. <3

The ending of the fic is also a response to a prompt from @astreamofstars from this ask meme.

read on ao3 | send me fic requests!

-----

Sweat trickles down her spine, pools at the base of her neck. It's so fucking hot in Avernus, like being buried in the depths of a coal fire. It matches the burning in her chest, the boiling in her guts. She fidgets her weight from one leg to the other, back and forth, as if that’d somehow ease the volcanic pressure behind each pneumatic pulse of molten blood in her veins. 

“I said ATTENTION!” Legate Jastor pauses in his inspection of his troops and halts in front of her, bellowing in her face. The pit fiend’s pale red eyes are filled with disdainful loathing. “I don't care if you’re Zariel's new pet, Cliffgate; you'll hold still when you're told!” He lifts a hand and cuffs her in a vicious backhand slap across the face. 

She squeezes her eyes shut, forcing herself not to react to the pain. Easier than it should be, really, because everything else hurts too. Her chest hurts and her head hurts. The exhaust vents along her shoulders burn with searing chemical heat. The bruising sting of the slap disappears, swallowed up by the inferno. 

“Yes, sir,” she grinds out. 

This isn't real, some part of her brain still stubbornly insists. No fucking way this is real. I'm dreaming. Gonna wake up any second and go see Gortash and laugh - hey, boss, you'll never guess the shit I dreamed you did to me!

It can't be real, that he betrayed her, after everything they've been through together. It can't be real that she’s on another plane in the fires of the Hells themselves. It can't be real that she met the Archdevil of Avernus, and the bitch cut out her heart.

It can't be real. It can't be real. It can't be real. It's not real. 

She opens her eyes again and stares into Jastor's smirking, grotesque face. His breath stinks of brimstone as he laughs. “Fidgety little fuck, aren't you, Dart? We'll fix that soon enough.”

Read More on AO3

[foundynnel]

[ithinkthiswasabadidea]

I have very little knowledge of the intricacies of Elturel's descent into Avernus, but it seems like a really BIG chunk of Gortash's plan of becoming Archduke and controlling the Absolute, hinged on:

1. Elturel returning from Avernus

2. Duke Ravengard surviving both the descent and return

And 3. Duke Ravengard then being kidnapped and tadpoled

Gortash's entire plan involving the Hells specifically, had so many rogue players in Zariel, Mizora, Raphael, etc. that it's wild the vault heist and everything following it, was actually pulled off with minimal failures

The real hitch at that point, was Orin forcing her way into becoming Bhaal's chosen, because otherwise, the play between Gortash, Ketheric and the Dark Urge would probably have been a lot smoother and less likely to fracture

Which makes me wonder, because I'm not 100% sure I know the timeline correctly, if kidnapping Ravengard and using him to coronate Gortash was a fail-safe, or if he was a part of the plan all along. Ulder Ravengard was already against Gortash rising in station, before he even left Baldur's Gate to go to Elturel. Ravengard is vehemently against everything that Gortash has done in the city

So then, did Gortash ever have dealings with Zariel, to ensure Ravengard would remain alive until he could kidnap and use him? Since she held Elturel and everyone within? The information I can find says that there are multiple ways for Elturel to be returned (within the campaign setting) and most involve Zariel to an extent, so she's pulling a LOT of major strings behind the scenes

This is mostly just musings, until I sit down and properly read up on the Avernus/Elturel lore, and how it fits in alongside Baldur's Gate 3, so I'm happy to hear if anyone knows more about this, or has other theories!

[generalcloudhopper]

I recently finished my first playthrough of BG3 and me, Karlach and Wyll all went to Avernus. In my game Wyll had to resell his soul to save his dad (I thought this was the only way you could save him 😭). At the epilogue party Wyll mention something about his new target from Mizora was not just any demon but a devil and my brain instantly went to all three of us kicking Zariel's ass and then I got the idea for this comic book cover. I think it would be really cool if Mizora would join us 3 in the ass kicking.

[aleisters]

someone explain to me how titles work in the hells in dnd because i would have thought that raphael is not an archduke, which makes the idea of raphael getting haarlep to dommy mommy him as archduchess raphael extremely funny.

like. zariel is archduchess already right, raphael is beneath her in rank. am i supposed to read this any other way. dnd lore exports weigh in

[grovekeepers]

What fighting in Avernus alongside Karlach and Wyll does to a man