#ENCHANTING THE SHADOWLANDS

[justporo]

Hunger

When his lover is fully drenched with blood after a fight Astarion cannot resist to sate his hungers - all of them.

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MASTERLIST | AO3

A/N: I am still on a quest it seems to write stuff for other's OCs (and I am enjoying it loads to be honest). This time I wrote something for my friend @raphaellearp and her beautiful tiefling paladin Hébée. We hung out late last night, I prompted her to draw Astarion licking blood of her girl, which in turn prompted me to write a little drabble... which led to both of us staying up a whole night, whoopsie.

Pairing: Astarion/Hébée Warnings: blood, light religious imagery, implied nsfw at the end Wordcount: 1,1k ~~~

There was blood.

A lot of it actually.

Fortunately though, it wasn’t Hébée’s and it wasn’t Astarion’s either. It was just that they both had gotten drenched in the Mindflayer colony and there was no easy way to get it off.

But then again, it would be a waste to just get rid of it as long as there was a vampire around, wouldn’t it?

Having dragged themselves back to the Last Light Inn, Hébée was wishing for nothing more but being able to take off her armour and soak herself in a tub. As soon as the tiefling had shut the door behind her and Astarion’s joint room at Last Light Inn she started ripping off bits and pieces of her plated armour. She desperately wished to leave this day behind her. It hadn’t been easy work defeating one of the Dead Three, for neither body nor mind. She wanted rest. And all this blood gone.

Pieces of metal and weapons clattered to the wooden floors as the paladin groaned and worked to get everything off of herself. It was all increasingly becoming too much. She needed to feel nothing but a whisper of fresh air on her strained body.

“So desperate to get your clothes off, my love?” Astarion teased while he watched her tear off armour and clothing.

Hébée simply scoffed while she removed another layer: “Not everything has to be a sultry joke, you know?”

“Oh, but it could be.”

Hébée turned around to her lover with annoyance in her eyes. He was observing her, gaze wandering over where blood was slowly drying on her skin. She noticed how his ruby eyes were flicking over her, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

She truly had been drenched in crimson.

“Don’t say you are this desperate to get some blood,” she snorted as she took off the last piece, leaving her in nothing but her undergarments now.

The look Astarion threw at her was partly offended, partly playful as she turned to him again. When she gazed at him, she also found that there was a tinge of pleading in the crimson of his eyes.

“Astarion,” Hébée said to the vampire, leaning her head to the side. Her tone was now a lot more consoling. “You could have asked at any point.”

His eyes darted away.

Despite everything, Astarion still wasn’t easily made to open up about vulnerabilities

At least now though, Hébée knew to read the signs and Astarion knew not to hide them. Still it was easier for him to express himself in those sultry jokes. Easy to brush it off, just in case.

So Hébée tried her best to make it easy for him. She drew up her shirt she’d been wearing beneath her armour, revealing her bare form beneath.

“I am serious, Astarion,” she murmured as she saw how his eyes were trained on the red wetly glistening splotches all over her skin.

“Take whatever you need,” the paladin continued and let herself fall down on the edge of the bed, opening up the laces of her pants as well now.

“Whatever I need,” Astarion parroted, following after her, too enchanted by her naked body, covered in blood.

Since they had entered the Shadowlands fresh, nurturing blood had been more than scarce. And with the vampire questioning what he really wanted from their relationship, dropping by Hébée just for a bite hadn’t been his top priority. But it had left him struggling, almost starving once more.

But now, as they had defeated Ketheric Thorm, had freed the Shadowlands - there was no real reason to not indulge again, was there? Especially not since it seemed there was already a meal laid out.

Hébée kicked off the last of her clothes, enjoying how the air was now finally brushing over her bare skin. She felt the ache of the past battles and exhaustion, soreness in every joint and muscle. But as she observed Astarion and the hunger in his eyes, she knew there was one more thing to do before she took a much needed rest.

“Please, Astarion, take your fill,” she offered as she observed Astarion also moving to free himself of armour and clothes. “Take anything you like.”

She couldn’t resist letting her hand wander over her naked breasts. Smearing some of the blood there across the chest with that.

“Hébée,” he whispered as he stepped close to her, finally as bare as her. She didn’t even answer anymore, just fixed him with her gaze.

And without another word he just went to his knees before her. Kneeling there like a simple believer ready for worship his red eyes seemed liquid by now.

She knew he was hungering for her in more ways than one. And she was willing to fulfil all of his needs.

Her clawed fingers wandered into his curls while he moved closer.

“Anything?” he whispered while he scooched to be between her parted legs, looking up at her, need, hunger and admiration mixing all into one. With parted lips and his gaze firmly on her, he leaned to her.

The tips of Hébée’s claws softly grazed his scalp - not hurting, only teasing - while she watched how his soft lips enveloped a spot right on her stomach.

She felt his wet mouth sucking on her skin, tongue lapping to catch the blood.

He felt her muscles tense under his touch and the sharp breath she took.

When he lightly began sucking on her warm skin and she could feel his fangs softly press into her abs, she couldn’t help herself. With a moan Hébée threw her head back and revelled in the feeling of her lover’s mouth on her bare skin. It was a soothing cure she didn’t know she had needed.

One of Astarion’s hands came up to wrap the small of her arching back when he moved to yet another bloodstained spot on her abdomen. His ruby eyes jumped up at her when she gasped, watching him lap up more blood from her skin.

“Really anything?” he repeated, tearing away from her only shortly. His breath was brushing over her, making her shudder, making her bite her lip.

“Anything, Astarion,” Hébée replied, almost absent-mindedly opening her legs further for him, arching more, willing him to see that she really meant it.

Astarion’s eyes wandered, from the traces of blood teasing him to yet another thing beckoning to him like a siren song. Right there, right within his reach.

Then they caught the tiefling’s gaze once more, burning, relaying an answer to a question he couldn’t fully put into words yet.

“Don’t mind if I do then, my love,” Astarion purred and moved to sate all of his hungers as Hébée gave into the joy of giving herself, fully.

[lemonsrosesandlavender]

Soft Rolan thingy incoming!

Rolan with a Tav, who is also a magic user, but one that gains their magic through means other than strict study or innate magical abilities, helping the tiefling wizard expand his knowledge of magic? Like maybe Tav is a Moon Druid, showing and explaining some of the magical secrets that can be found in nature, with Rolan suddenly notice how... enchanting Tav is under the moonlight... despite the tiefling wizard's best efforts to remain focused on the moon like Tav is.

Here we go, anon! Sorry for the long wait. I hope you (and flower crown anon) enjoy! Rolan x gn druid!Tav, 3121 words. No warnings, this one's just sweet :)

If there’s one thing that Rolan thinks of, when he thinks of Tav, it’s the glow of moonlight on their lips as they cast. They seem to carry it with them; back in the Shadowlands, it saved him from the dark. Back in the brief but brutal days under Lorroakan’s thumb, it was their moonlight that called to him, though Dame Aylin’s glowed far stronger. And now, in the peace and comfort of his new life, it dances with a radiance less fearsome; a dusting of hope instead of a blaze of glory. He knows very well that they’re capable of both. 

Moon magic is beyond the reach of most wizards, but Rolan does not consider himself to be merely any wizard. Besides, even if he cannot master it himself, he might improve his own practise with its knowledge.

He’s surprised when Lia outright laughs, when he presents this plan in some detail over breakfast. 

‘That’s a complicated way of asking them out.’

Rolan frowns in confusion. ‘I’m not asking them out. I simply wish to expand my magical knowledge.’

‘Did you run out of books in the library? I thought you said it had everything a wizard could ever wish to know.’

‘Lia, you are well aware of the concept of a figure of speech.’

‘I’m well aware of how to get someone to go out with you. Are you going to suggest they hold your hand whilst they’re at it?’ 

‘Oh for the Gods’ sakes,’ Rolan mutters. ‘I do not fancy Tav.’

‘Are you sure?’ Cal giggles. ‘Even your projection tries to flirt with them. It leans over the counter sometimes. I’ve seen it!’

‘Wretched Hells!’ Rolan huffs, gathering up his plate and the morning’s Baldur’s Mouth with an irritable sigh. ‘If the projection is broken, then tell me. And I am sorry the exchange of scholarly ideas means so little to you, but that is truly all I am after. Tav will understand that, even if you troglodytes won’t.’

They do, in fact, understand it perfectly, even if he fumbles his words over it for reasons he can’t quite be sure of. Probably Cal and Lia’s teasing, making him self-conscious. Tav leans in slightly, and the words jam tighter in his throat. 

‘Tomorrow, then?’ they murmur. ‘After shop close?’

They smell of wood and husky spices. Rolan swallows.

‘Ah - yes. Excellent. I will be… ready.’

He endures Cal and Lia’s mockery for the rest of the next day. It is almost as if they want him to date Tav. Which, of course, they will be disappointed in; though the more he thinks about it, the more he can almost see why they would believe it. After all, Tav is his closest friend in the Gate; they are capable, and powerful, and kind. Rolan has made no secret of thinking such, since the day they battled Lorroakan, though most often he shows it in offerings of herbal teas and discussions of fascinating artifacts. 

In fact, he showed them one such artifact the other day, found deep in the Vaults. It was a pendant made of pearlescent shell set with silver; magic he could not yet identify, but he felt to be protective. Abruptly, a memory of their fingers brushing over his inserts itself, and his heart skips a little. Did it do that the first time? Did he simply not notice? Are Cal and Lia… right?

Gods forbid.

A sudden, heavy banging drums him from his thoughts.

‘Coming!’ he shouts, and misty-steps over, opening the door to their rather beautiful face. 

They shift their metal staff over to their other hand, and smile. ‘Here to teach you the power of Nature. If you’re so inclined.’

Rolan nods. ‘Yes. I’m ready.’

Laughing, they raise an eyebrow. ‘You’ve said that twice now, but I’m not sure you are. A good Druid is always rooted to nature, first and foremost.’

From most people, Rolan would consider their teasing tone an affront. But from Tav… 

‘What do you suggest?’ he asks.

‘Close your eyes.’ 

Rolan frowns, but he does it.

‘What are you - oh -’

He has the strange sensation of having his hair stroked. Caressed, even. And then, the caress gets just a little bit tangled -

‘There we go,’ Tav murmurs approvingly.

Opening his eyes hesitantly, Rolan touches the base of his horns, and then touches them again, baffled. It feels like… flowers?

‘Now you’re ready,’ they tease.

‘Was that strictly necessary?’ Rolan asks, blushing, and looks around for the shop mirror. Intended for trying on magical accessories, not vines; but it will do. Sprays of small, bright white flowers intermingle with large, delicate blue ones, twisted up with the long green rushes he’s seen down by the shore in Rivington

‘Bunchflower and Leeblossoms,’ Tav says. ‘And Swordgrass. And no, it wasn’t. But they suit you.’

‘Hmm,’ Rolan mutters. He finds himself smiling. ‘Well. Shall we proceed?’

Tav spends the next two hours teaching him to listen to the plants on the Tower balcony. It’s not quite the glorious start he had hoped for, but he listens diligently anyway, doing his best to feel the strangs of magic in every leaf. They whisper quietly, but they’re there. When he does feel them, reaching for him, he reaches back; hoping the leaf will move or grow or show some sign of his connection. But the tenuous filaments seem to blow away like spiderthread at even his delicate grasp.

They’re smiling, when he looks up. 

‘You felt it.’

He nods and stares.

The hazy sunset glow cannot be the cause of the silver in their eyes. That’s their own, personal moonglow. But it does illuminate them in a warmth that catches him in its haze, as if awakening from sleep on a summer’s afternoon. Oh no. He bites his lip, standing up sharply.

‘Yes. I suppose that’s the end of our lesson for today.’

Tilting their head curiously, they smile. ‘If you want. It’s a very good start. For someone a little out of touch with Nature.’

‘I don’t mean to be,’ he says. ‘But it is very easy. A wizard can sit at home with their books and scrolls for a long time and… not think of anything else.’

‘You seem like you’ve got more on your mind than that.’

The breath catches in Rolan’s throat. This is altogether too much to think about at once. He rarely makes friends beyond Cal and Lia. To have discovered feelings for the only one he has - feelings he has a concerning belief were there all along - is not ideal. And if they don’t return them -

He yanks off the flower crown, and their face falls. 

‘Ah. Sorry, I won’t do that again.’

‘No - I was not thinking -’ 

Even putting it back on can’t restore the moment; but he wasn’t sure he could survive that moment for a second longer anyway. He needs to write in his journal, or down a large glass of wine, or something. Anything to work out what it is he’s feeling.

The moment Tav leaves is the moment Lia and Cal arrive back, as if they were waiting for them to go; but he won’t even let them finish the smirking sentence ‘Nice flower crown,’ before he misty-steps up to his room and sinks down against the wall, burying his face in his hands. His claws bump up against the flowers, and he takes it off, wearily, gently, looking into the ring of tiny golden stamens in each star of white, as if that might offer a clue about what to do next.

He can’t tell them. He feels that much is obvious. They’ve already rescued him from so much, and he doesn’t want to be a burden. Besides. They are the hero of Baldur’s Gate, beloved by their many friends and every stranger alike. Competing with that seems hopeless. 

There is one thing he can do, though. Carefully, he unweaves every strand of the flowers, unpicking with the delicacy of a tailor so as not to break any stems. In the morning, he moves the vase with the reassembled bouquet down to the front counter. 

Now, all he has to do is wait.

By four o’clock, he begins to see the flaw in this plan. They might not come in at all. Some days they’re too busy, or out visiting a Grove beyond the city. But if they’re doing that - they might not be back in time to see the flowers at all. Hells. 

‘Rolan?’ comes a familiar voice. He whips around.

‘Yes!’

‘What are you doing down here? Something wrong with the projection?’ they say lightly, though their smile is less easy than usual.

‘Ah - inspecting it,’ Rolan mutters. ‘I’ve had reports it is acting inconsistently.’

‘What’s wrong with it?’ Tav asks. ‘I think it’s charming.’

Caught on his own tail, Rolan hastily thinks of something else to say. ‘Well. Perhaps we should take a closer look. Maybe it’s nothing.’

Their eyes wander to the projection, and then they start. When they turn back, their face is aglow with something unreadable. Curiosity, or relief, perhaps.

‘You kept the flower crown?’

‘Yes,’ Rolan says, flushing. 

‘I’m glad.’ Tav smiles. Then, they pause. ‘Close your eyes?’

Well, perhaps an overflowing number of vases is a small price to pay for a crush. Certainly, Rolan feels it worth his while. Each time they come by, they see the flowers dotted everywhere - the counter, the desk, an empty row on the bookshelf - and smile, and cast him another one. New flowers every time, that they tell him all the symbols and uses of, whilst he runs his fingers softly over them and feels Tav’s presence in their petals.

The longer it goes on, the more he almost resigns himself to this life. Of course he wants more but - that would threaten everything they have. Each week, the Tower’s plants grow higher beneath his fingertips, guided by Tav’s thorough teaching, though sometimes they inexplicably sprout thorns. 

‘Probably reflects your mental state,’ they tell him gently. ‘Clear your mind and try again.’

Lia snorts. He hadn’t realised she’d come up to the balcony. 

‘If it’s based on that, I’m surprised they don’t die on the vine. I’ve seen him scowling at them when you’re not here.’

‘Lia!’ Rolan barks.

Tav laughs. ‘They annoy me too sometimes. Plants have got minds of their own. Bastards.’

That makes him snort. ‘Indeed.’ 

‘Where’s my flower crown?’ Lia teases. ‘Or do you make them specially for Rolan?’

Their eyes flick to him, and he feels strangely hopeful; but then, with a laugh, they tell her they can make her one too. He has to comfort himself with the fact it’s not as pretty, or as detailed, as his own. Only one kind of flower, for starters.

‘You know,’ they say, turning to Rolan. ‘I think you’re ready to try Moonbeam. But we’ll have to wait for the full moon for that. It always makes your first time easier.’

It’s only five days’ wait, but it makes him both nervous and impatient. Not that it’s any different, seeing them under the night sky; or at least it shouldn’t be, when he’s seen them like that so many times before. But they’ve promised to take him somewhere special, and secret, and the mystery snags his thoughts, over and over, ripping his focus away from whatever book he’s reading to make him wonder where on Faerûn they mean.

At last, the night arrives. He brushes down his nicest silk robe and puts a silver ribbon in his hair, one that he hopes will complement their choice of flowers. 

Their staff raps on the door, and he yanks it open so fast they almost fall over into him. 

‘You’re keen,’ they laugh. 

‘Ah,’ Rolan mutters, searching for an excuse. This time, he can find none at all. ‘Come in,’ he says hastily.

A bundle of scrolls sticks out of their pocket. 

‘What are those for?’

‘Where we’re going.’

Rolan frowns. ‘I see.’

Tav grins. ‘All will be revealed. In one moment, I promise.’

It’s automatic. Rolan closes his eyes eagerly, awaiting their magic, and they laugh; but it’s a soft laugh.

‘You know me well.’ 

They begin to murmur the words of the incantation, and the vines begin to weave, brushing his temples as they go. 

‘I like your ribbon,’ they murmur. ‘I tried to match it. This kind of flower only blooms at the full moon. It’s called Selune’s Blessing by some, though we prefer to attribute its grace to Silvanus. At least, he can share in its glory.’

A long glance in the mirror reveals intricate midnight bells, brushed with silver spangles and filled with silver stamen. He can see where it gets its name. The last of the petals are still unfurling, and he watches them, breathing quietly, feeling Tav’s eyes on him.

‘It is beautiful,’ he says quietly, and they smile.

‘It goes with your ribbon, too.’

‘Hmmm.’

They linger a little in the moment, and then they shake their head, shaking something off inside them. ‘Right. Let’s do this.’

‘Do what?’

They pull out the scrolls - scrolls of flight - and hand them to him. 

‘Go up to the roof.’

‘Oh.’

It takes a while for them to ascend the Tower’s many portals and staircases, wending their way to the highest balcony. Normally, they’d be talking more than this, but today feels different, and Rolan is suddenly uneasy. The feeling worsens as they take his hand to fly to the roof; not strictly necessary, when both of them have the spell’s blessing. It’s only another ten yards or so up to the very top, but when they’re so far above the city - he feels untethered from reality somehow, and the feeling only worsens as they land lightly in a puddle of moonlight that seems to have been drawn to Tav themselves. 

‘Normally,’ they say softly, ‘I bring new druids out into the wilderness when I’m teaching them. But I thought that for you, this seemed more fitting. And the moon is very beautiful, over Baldur’s Gate.’

Rolan does look up, briefly, but what he sees holds not a candle to Tav, awash with celestial radiance. The lights of the city beneath form the stars in their own night sky.

There’s a long pause. Tav looks as if they’re about to speak; but then they stop. The unease grows. If these flowers only bloom tonight - well, after that, they’re gone. What if Tav is leaving? Going out to the wilderness, where a druid really belongs? Not that it could matter anyway - he’s resolved not to say a word to them, and he won’t, not even as they throw open their arms and call down a ray of moonshine, ethereal and yet powerful, cool and beautiful, throwing open the recesses within him and shining light into each and every one. He loves them. He should have acknowledged that a long time ago - but in this moment he’s grateful, that he has been spared this pain.

‘Rolan?’ they ask. ‘Did you catch that?’

His tail lashes. ‘Ah. No. What did you say?’

‘Feel the ground beneath your feet first. Then, seek your vines; anchor yourself in the ground.’

Closing his eyes, he twists his tail around his ankle, trying to clear his head of thoughts and his heart of feeling. The stones beneath his feet murmur their connection to the ground beneath; and to some miles away, too, where first they were quarried. But the vines - the vines are harder. They taste of Tav’s scent, they twist like Tav’s fingers, they hold him softly in a way he wishes only Tav would. He winces.

‘Are you alright?’ Tav asks.

‘Yes,’ he hisses, strained. ‘I’m fine.’

‘We can try again next full moon. It doesn’t have to be perfect, this time.’

‘You’ll be here next full moon?’ Rolan asks, too quickly, opening his eyes.

They only smile. 

‘Of course. I belong in Baldur’s Gate, I think. There’s plenty of nature to be stewarded here too. Fighting for its space alongside the rest of us.’

‘Oh,’ he says, relaxing a little. ‘I thought you’d… want to be out of the city. Eventually.’

Their eyes glisten with sudden, piercing light. ‘Would you mind if I left?’

A cold breeze licks at his neck, and he blushes. Panics, even. ‘Ah - I would miss any friend, if they left.’

Tav looks a little faraway, the glow in their eyes extinguishing. ‘Mmmm. Well. Now you’re grounded. Reach out your arms.’

He closes his eyes once more. Ground yourself, he orders his mind. Now. 

‘Alright. I’m channeling the moon’s essence for you, as best I can. Let yourself be open to it. And… repeat with me. Ex textura.’

‘Ex textura,’ Rolan murmurs. ‘Ex textura. Zurgan - Ex textura - Hells!’

‘Clear your mind,’ Tav replies. 

He grimaces. Get a grip.

‘Ex textura - ex textura - oh piss off!’ he snaps at himself, at the growing, tangled buzz of frustration in his brain. 

‘Are you alright?’ Tav asks. ‘Perhaps we should try again next -’

‘No!’ Rolan hisses. ‘No - it won’t be any better.’

‘Is there something the matter?’

Rolan wavers, but - if his feelings are the block to his magic, then Tav must surely not return them. Not one single frown of effort has marred their face. No. They must be at peace in his company. Which makes him a fool, for lacking it. He turns. 

‘I think we should stop.’

‘But - you’re so close,’ Tav says. ‘I promise. I can feel it.’

‘What does it bloody matter?’ Rolan snaps. ‘I’m not like you. Tranquility is not my typical state, if you hadn’t noticed.’

They frown, catching his arm gently. ‘It’s work for me too. I have plenty of feelings; I just learn to put them aside during my connection to nature. Once that connection is really strong, it can feed off them; you just have to learn to use it.’

Hope flickers inside him, but he doesn’t let it burn. 

‘Oh.’ He hesitates. ‘Feelings like…?’

‘Anything strong, really.’ Tav pauses. ‘Rolan - I didn’t want to say this - to put too much pressure on, when you were starting your new life - but…’

‘Yes?’ He twists back, looking at them uncertainly. Hopefully. Fearfully.

‘I like you. More than like you. I care for you very much.’

‘Oh, Gods -’ A stupid tear runs down his cheek. ‘I -’

‘I’m sorry -’ 

‘No!’ It’s his turn to catch their arm. ‘Please - I care for you too. I… love you, even.’

‘You love me?’

‘Ah - ’ 

‘Because I love you too. Gods.’ 

They pull him closer, into their pool of moonlight, and brush a strand of hair from his cheek.

‘I -’

Tav never finishes their sentence, because they kiss him instead.

[art-from-within]

One sote lore question that has been troubling me concerning mohg and miquella

SO. The dlc reveals that miquella was not so kind and tender in the end, and used mohg in every way a man can. He was used by Mohg to go to shadowlands, and for his corpse to become a vessel for Radahn’s soul. I also have good enough reasons to suspect his cult and himself was being used as a blood bank, for what idk, considering there are a tad too many references of miquella needing blood/ post enchantment mohg asking his followers to ‘bathe his consort in blood’.

But one thing i am not really set on is the timeline. Biggest question is, HOW and WHEN did miquella enchant mohg? Did he visit him in the sewers way back? (The final battle with miquella shows us that he needs to be close in other to enchant someone, to steal their heart) or did mohg already have a plan to kidnap him in the haligtree, and miquella just made the best of his situation? Did he go to the haligtree because he was seduced? Or was it already on his agenda, but he bit more than he could chew?

I am leaning more towards the former, the fact that we can get the bewitching branch cookbook only after doing varre’s questline/visiting mohgwyn palace and receiving it from gideon is a huge red flag. Would this imply he sent mohg some bewitching branch drink or smth? Or shot it like an arrow? Used haligtree like an incense burner releasing pink clouds eve- okay…. (Or he stabbed him with the pin when he got close enough…could be argued either way)

Another reason i lean on this idea is that i feel miquella has more discernible motives to have mohg than the other way around. Needs his corpse, his blood, and a ticket to shadowland to become a GOD and fix EVERYTHING. What does mohg get in return….to be his wife??

I would still like to hear all you guy’s thoughts though

+ or maybe he was able to visit mohg in his sleep, through st.trina? We do know that omens suffer terrible nightmares….maybe st.trina helped him in a way

[kirain]

I love your Tiefling kids all grown up! The attention to detail is astonishing! But please, I need Doni! The sweet little non-verbal boy from the grove!!

I gotchu, anon! All the tiefling children that aren't confirmed to survive to Act 3, but very well could have. This is a continuation of this post. And thank you!

During the attack in the Shadowlands, Doni survived by squeezing between two cliffs and waiting out the slaughter. When silence fell, he paid his respects to the fallen and fled to the closest light source. He quickly spotted enchanted torches in the distance, and he realised they kept the shadows at bay. There he stayed until the curse lifted. Once free to move, he wandered cautiously to Moonrise Towers, where he was welcomed by other survivors. Though unable to speak, he would be instrumental in uncovering precious resources buried during the building's collapse; crawling under debris and mapping out paths for the adults to follow. As the land healed, Doni found a home, especially when Halsin returned. Though not a replacement for his biological father, he came to see the tender druid as a mentor, and with his guidance learned to hunt and attune himself with nature. Slowly, he also recovered from his trauma and reclaimed his voice. He would spend the rest of his days happily foraging food from the now vast forests, and all while blissfully married to the descendant of a Harper.

Meli was taken to Moonrise Prison with the other tieflings, but he managed to escape before reaching the cells. With pursuing guards on his heels, he jumped into the moat, nearly drowning as he dodged their arrows. Through sheer fear and desperation, he floundered to the shore, where he promptly fainted. When he woke, the shadows had faded and the land was bathed in light, but he felt anything but joy. For years, he walked a dark path, his anger seething and survival depending on theft and violence. This changed when he tried to rob a cleric of Lathander. The woman met his transgression with pity and forgiveness, and quickly invited him to join her at her temple. He agreed—with the intention of using her for food and shelter and eventually robbing her blind, but the woman was wise. She saw through his facade, shared her beliefs, and gradually helped him turn a new leaf. As he grew, surrounded by the clerics and their kindness, he too decided to worship Lathander, vowing to carry His virtues and redirecting all of his rage at His enemies. Upon completion of his apprenticeship, he would leave the temple and travel Faerûn, ridding it of undead abominations and protecting the innocent from their scourge.

Gan left the group long before they journeyed to the Shadowlands. Dissatisfied that he never got the chance to fight, and certain that Baldur's Gate wouldn't be the refuge the adults claimed, he chose to stay behind at the Grove. He had always been an independent soul, even at such a young age, and he continued to fend for himself while honing his skills on the practice dummies. The druids attempted to welcome him into their fold, but his proclivity towards violence caused a divide, despite their best efforts. Within a few months, he would leave the Grove and join a band of raiders, but even that stint was short lived when he came to empathise with their victims. One night, after a particularly brutal raid that ended in five murders, he slit the throat of the leader as he slept. It was then, in that moment of lost innocence, that he realised it wasn't violence he longed for, but vengeance. Vengeance for Elturel, vengeance for the refugees, and vengeance for anyone wronged by unfathomable evil. Eventually, he would cross paths with Zevlor, who would recognise the boy's struggle and train him in the ways of the paladin. This gave the wandering oathbreaker renewed purpose, and he would raise Gan to be one of the most feared but celebrated paladins in the Sword Coast.

Unfortunately, Zaki never made it to Baldur's Gate. He never even made it to the Shadowlands. Mere hours after leaving the Grove, he was separated from the group during a brief respite. As the others caught their breath, he left the trail to pee and pick some berries. Unbeknownst to him, he stepped a little too close to a den of wolf cubs, provoking the mother. She attacked, wounding his face and chest and knocking him into a nearby ravine. Once they realised he was missing, the group searched vigorously to find him, but to no avail—and they had to move on. Days later, he was found in a bad state by Rath, who rushed him back to the Grove. The experience had left him deeply traumatised, to the point that even his friend Gan was unable to console him. Feeling responsible for the boy, and the plight of all the tieflings, Rath decided to personally take him under his wing. Slowly, he introduced Zaki to the Grove's wolves, helping alleviate his fears, and soon he came to admire them, along with all the other animals in the area. Through Rath's teachings, he developed an appreciation for peace and the unpredictability of nature, earning him a blessing from Silvanus. From that moment on, Zaki would stay in the Grove indefinitely, one day inheriting the title of Archdruid.

[goawaypopup]

And that's another Deltora thing that puzzled me! The Pirrans' memory stones.

If you recall, at the end of Shadowlands, Lief and company each receive rainbow-colored stones that, they are instructed, will allow them not to develop amnesia about all their time underground once they leave.

This does become relevant in the next series, when Doran's soul-stone is a plot point, but at the time it comes out of left field. You just all have these things at all times? Would you wake up and completely forget who you were if you lost it? Why do the caverns make you forget, anyway?

I think this has to be something the Pirran tribes are themselves responsible for. At the time they first arrived in the underground, they had good reason to wipe themselves from the mind of their aggressor to prevent pursuit (he does hold a very long grudge), and the Girl with the Golden Hair tale might show that it was once possible for Deltorans to just wander into the caverns through the other end. They all continue to magically light the cavern walls, so area-wide effects are something within their capability.

They also individually can counteract it somewhat, as with this part explaining away why this wasn't an issue sooner:

"But in the Shadowlands we remembered," Barda objected. "You had Emlis with you," said Penn. "And the minds of all of us were focused on you, besides."

But, if this is the case- why do they all need enchanted ID rocks to protect themselves from their own forgetting spell?

When Lief touched Doran's stone, he glimpsed some of his memories, as well as his list of passwords secret dragon names. Not just his memories from underground, but an instantaneous impression of his whole life. Maybe these things are more generally useful than just passkeys for the amnesia spell; it would appear they function by storing a backup of your memories inside the stone (this possibly being how the spell is bypassed).

The refrain of the last dragons' names is more salient than anything else in there... Perhaps it's because Doran spent his time as the Sister's guardian calling out for his friends over and over unheard. Or some echo wanted to give Lief this highly useful information?

Being able to share your memories with others does seem like a fun cultural staple, particularly for the truth-loving Aurons.

[zigraves]

2023 Zi-writes-fic list

I've put nothing on Ao3 since 2014, when I basically stopped writing fanfic for the better part of a decade. And then Baldur's Gate 3 happened, and suddenly I'm writing again in volume!

So here's what's happened this year, almost all of which is canon-compliant or strongly canon-adjacent unless otherwise stated:

September:

A Soft Caress; As Cold As Death - my return to writing fic, with a multichapter M-rated postgame. Astarion/Halsin dealing with grief and circling back to a relationship with each other after their shared Tav died.

Overhear More In Changing - hopping onto the Bloodweave train with what appears to be the fandom's first body-swap fic! E-rated for a mind-meld activities, and the first of what will turn out to be quite a few bloodweave fics.

October:

Just Leap The Flames - having come from the TF2 fandom back in the day, naturally I could not resist having two sad old warriors find a bit of solace together for a night. E-rated Halsin/ Zevlor, featuring sore bones and bad hips.

Unexpected Terrain - a short bit of E-rated porn with a reasonable amount of feelings attached, featuring a trans Gale and an Astarion who's definitely got some issues around power and autonomy. Astarion's tendency to stay clothed and distant from his partner is at this point becoming a running theme.

Enchanting Silver - Bloodweave again, this time with a magic mirror gift for Astarion, and only M-rated for suggestiveness.

Seen, Seen, Seen - breaking up the smut and suggestiveness with a T-rated character study comparing Halsin and Astarion's responses to trauma and how it's shaped them as characters.

Come To Mind - staying T-rated, a bit of mild whump as Gale loses his mind and has to piece together who, or what, he is - and what relationship he has to these strangers around him.

November:

Rest, Indulge - back to E-ratings with a slow, indulgent, postgame bit of bloodweave consensual somnophilia. Come for the smut, stay for the breakfast sandwiches.

Myrtle, Ozone, Iron - M-rated for canon-expected depictions of violence, this ongoing fic leans into Astarion's reliance on scripts and his struggle with social interactions that fall outside his 200 years of rote experience.

December:

Strigil - E-rated again, as Gale has a miserable time in the Shadowlands and Astarion has a solution to his laundry problems. Readers may notice, once again, Astarion sublimating some Personal Issues via Gale.

Steady, Steady - dropping down to a nice friendly T-rating for what appears to be the first Halsin & Karlach friendfic in the fandom. Halsin teaches Karlach to whittle!

You Into Me - back up to E-rating for tadpole-based psychic codependency and a dose of hurt-comfort, written for a Bloodweave Secret Santa event.

Sherry - a G-rated offering at last, as Wyll ponders how much humanity he has left in the company of one who knows all too well what it's like to made into something monstrous.

Glass - a second dose of Wyllstarion, an as-yet-unrated Cinderella story written for the Wyllstarion server's "Fairy Tale" prompt. More to come on this one, and you can expect canon-typical violence and hurt/comfort to be added to the tags when Chapter 2 comes.

So! That brings my 2023 to an end.

After so long writing little to no fic, and barely even picking at my own original writing, it's been so good finally having something that sets my brain back to words again. I hope you enjoy it, and I promise to finish both Glass and Myrtle, Ozone, Iron in the New Year.

I'd put up a rec list, but good gods - there are so many talented writers in this fandom that I'd hardly know where to start!

[2plottwist]

A Song of Journeys Ahead

Summary: Calathiel and her companions arrive in a charming village, where a traveling troupe performs a vibrant concert in the town square. While the group celebrates alongside the townsfolk with food, drink, and merriment, Calathiel immerses herself in the enchanting music, finding a long-sought comfort in the melodies she has dearly missed. As she loses herself in the harmony, Astarion observes her with growing affection.

Pairing: Astarion x Female!OC (Calathiel)

Characters: Calathiel, Astarion, Gale, Wyll, and a surprise Vox Machina (Critical Role) character

Warnings: none

Author: Kenna:)

Word Count: 1.8k

Sweat gleans off Calathiel’s forehead. Her muscles ache and scream at every step she takes up the mountain. The flora of the forest provides ample shade, but not enough to block the blazing heat of the Faerûn sun. 

Where is this godsdamn village Wyll was talking about?

Calathiel was close to just dropping her supplies and calling it a day, when a smell wafted across the path. She stopped and willed her heightened senses to find it again.

She could feel a presence shift at her shoulder. She turns to the side to see Gale’s smiling face, “Food,” he states. 

Callie smiles back, reading his mind. The party is tired, starving, weak, and needing a place to rest. One that isn’t in the middle of a clearing. That place has finally appeared. 

A  laugh escapes Callie’s lips, a new wave of strength coursing through her veins at the thought of food. Her feet take off up the hill, leaving the companions behind. The sweat pours from her skin, but never mind that, food and drink await. 

She can hear the pounding of feet behind her, knowing that the companions are well on the way of following her hasty retreat. As Calathiel rounds a large boulder, the sounds of reveling and music move over the sun strained land. She can make out small buildings, fountains, and shadows milling about. Brightly colored flags reflect the sunlight as she turns towards her pack. 

“Wyll,” she shouted, “Is this Ashwick?” 

She sees a large body push between Karlach and Lae’zel, his embellished coat covered in dust and sweat. Wyll’s smile rises to the sight, “Yes,” he sighs in relief. 

The humble village was constructed of sandstone walls and large pale shrubs lining the buildings. Dirt paths were used as roads and walkways. Wooden doors slam shut from every building. Straight ahead of the party, a large fountain of water rises from the middle of the town, shooting streams and droplets of water into a large well below it. 

As the party traveled the beaten main path into the village, Astarion picks up his pace to match Calathiel’s. “So, what in the hells could we possibly be doing in this dusty village?” His eyes roam across the people moving past him, staring at him. “These people are positively abhorrent.” 

Callie brings her eyes to him. His face covered in sweat and dirt, laced with disgust. “Wyll said that this village would be a good place to bed for the night on our way to the Shadowlands.” Her eyes moved to the village inhabitants. 

“Ugh, this is ridiculous,” he sighs, shaking his head. 

She stops and grabs his forearm to bring his steps to a halt. “Listen, all of us are hungry, tired, and weary,” Calathiel starts, dropping her hand to her side, “We need to regain our strength for the journey ahead. Not all of us can feed off the blood of others and keep kicking.” 

A grin spreads across Astarion’s face as the group continues past the two elves. “And even if they could, I don’t share.” 

Calathiel’s eyes roll, “Even so, we need to stop. This is a safe place, according to Wyll. Now suck it up, and move forward.” 

She leaves him standing in a state of surprise and disappointment. He really didn’t want to stick around this nasty shithole of a village, but he was weary and hungry. Maybe he could find some wine around here. Maybe he could convince Calathiel for a hearty meal before dawn. 

The town square was lined with brightly colored flags. Wooden stands selling roasted meats and vegetables, fruits and drinks. A heightened wooden platform sits at the edge of the clearing, holding five people swiping and pounding on different instruments. 

A smile grows across Calathiel’s face. She looks around to the rest of the group to see wandering eyes, drooling mouths, and pricking ears. “Well, I don’t know about you,” Calathiel’s cheeks begin to grow sore from her smile, “but I’m going to find something to eat.” 

The group breaks almost immediately, scattering like mice to food stands, taverns, and shops. The only person left standing in place, Astarion. His face still painted with ridicule and impatience for the desperation of his group. Calathiel shrugs her shoulders at the elf and turns to the nearest stand selling boxes of fruit that made her mouth water on the way in. 

Hours into the group’s escape from the desolate lands of Faerûn, Calathiel sits on a small wooden stool to the side of the large platform the traveling troupe of musicians still inhabit. Their songs move through her body in a way she never thought she could hear again. The swift, loud notes of sea shanties and the low, gloomy notes of sorrowful tunes portraying a lost love or battles lost. The mug of ale Callie had been nursing slowly became warm and flat with the length of time she spent listening so intently to the bards’ stories. 

As the sun sets, a cascade of pinks, blues, and purples dances across the sky, gradually giving way to the stars and their moment to shine. Lanterns light and torches become ablaze, announcing the continuation of the night's revelries and festivities. Calathiel’s heart silently thanks the Gods for a chance to keep listening to the beautiful music. 

“As the night moves through this small town, our group must take a brief break. Our parched throats crave the sweet embrace of ale, and our bellies stir at the tempting scent of the feast," the gnome upon the stage proclaims. 

Callie’s disappointment crawls across her face, but the thought of their return lessens the feeling. She looks down at her ale, deciding she needed a fresh pint anyways. Before she could rise, a voice called for her attention. 

“My lady!” The gnome calls, waving the hands that played the lyre just moments ago. She stops and smiles. “I couldn’t help but notice your very close observation of my troupe.” 

A laugh escapes Calathiel’s lips, “Yes. Your storytelling is one for the history books, good sir.” 

“Oh, I wouldn’t quite say that, but thank you, my lady.” The gnome’s smile grows ten yards wide, pride beaming off his face at the compliment. 

“Of course, and please call me Calathiel.” 

The gnome’s hand takes Callie’s and swiftly brings it to his lips, “A pleasure to meet you, lady Calathiel. I am Scanlan.” 

She nods, “You have the most wonderful way with song, Scanlan.” 

“Thank you, Calathiel.” An idea pops up behind his eyes, “You know, I don’t usually allow just anyone to play my lyre, however, your hands seem to crave the soft touch of the strings. Would you like to give it a try?” 

His hands extend the wooden instrument towards Calathiel. Her eyes widened at his question. She hadn’t played an instrument or sang a tune in the weeks since she’d been a part of this quest. Her mind races with the songs she could sing, the notes and finger movements required to grace the world with music. 

Her head nods against her best interest. She sets her ale in the dirt, taking the delicate lyre. Her head still races with the songs she could play. Her legs lower her body to the wooden stool again as her hands stroke the strings and scales of the lyre. 

Her thoughts land on a song, and her fingers begin to strum. A melancholic tale of heartbreak and longing. Her words fall from her lips, giving way to a beautiful melody that brought the gnome, Scanlan, to his knees. 

When her song ends and her eyes open, Scanlan and his troupe all gaze at the young druid. Her words fill their bodies and leave them wanting more of her song. 

“That was beautiful.” Scanlan states. 

Calathiel pulls the lyre from her body, handing it back to the bard, “Thank you. You are more than welcome to play it during your next shows.” 

“You would be so gracious?” 

“Of course!” She smiles. “It’s a story that must be told, and with the amount of talent you and your troupe have, I believe you would be the best voice for it.” 

“Thank you, lady Calathiel.” 

She nods as she watches the starstruck band wander away, discussing notes and further compositions of her song. A dark presence rises at her back. Moving her eyes over her shoulder, she sees the tall, pale body that belongs to one gorgeous vampire. 

“Seems like you have more than one talent when it comes to those fingers.” 

Astarion leans down to drink her eyes into his. His ears still humming with the soft notes of her song. His body wanting and wishing for a continuation of the performance. He thought stopping in this godsforsaken town was a mistake, a distraction from the real threat and journey they’re supposed to be facing. However, his thoughts continued to wander to Calathiel’s kindness to the townspeople, her excitement to revel in the festivities, and the beautiful words that graced his ears. His admiration of Calathiel continues to grow by the day. 

Calathiel’s eyes roll at Astarion’s statement. She’s never spoken about it, but music was her escape, the way she could easily fall into a trance, the way she could pass the time during their journey. It was a beautiful string of notes and expressions that could tell a story ten times better than simple words or phrases could. It was the Gods’ blessing to the physical realm.  

Astarion takes a seat next to Calathiel, “No, I mean it. You’re wonderful.” 

There was no hint of teasing or sarcasm dripping from his mouth. Astarion’s words seem… genuine. Calathiel is not used to these kinds of compliments from the snarky vampire. 

“Um, thank you, Astarion.” 

His smile radiates across the night, “Where did you learn to sing such somber songs, anyways?” 

There it is. Calathiel’s soft smile grows and she shakes her head at his question, “I-uh- can’t remember. I just learned them from watching the musicians pass through my colony.” 

His head nods, “Do you know only somber songs?” 

“I don’t. I know sea shanties from sailors, tales of battles won from warriors and adventure parties, and songs of love and lust from traveling bards,” Calathiel lists, remembering the words, melodies, and harmonies in her arsenal of music. 

“Now, I for sure look forward to the songs of love and lust.” Astarion’s seductive voice floats across the air. 

A small laugh erupts between the two adventurers. “I will sing of those when the time comes, Astarion.” 

Their eyes connect, small sparks dancing between the two. Astarion’s mind races with the thoughts of when that time would come. When would he hear her beautiful voice sing again? Would he live long enough to hear them? Would she stick around long enough to grace his ears? 

Those questions would be answered, but not tonight. For tonight, Astarion thanks the Gods for his freedom, the chance to listen to her, to see her. He thanks the Gods for the chance to let his heart sink deeper in love with the woman sitting in front of him.

[tavyliasin]

ATG 5 - Day? Night.

In which a little invention it tested on a willing subject...

Pairing: Astarion/Tav SPICE Rating: 4/5 (sex, toys, mild kink) Content Warnings: Slight power play, blood, biting, 

Spoilers Set in the middle of Act 2 again, but not a lot of plot, just the setting of Last Light Inn Canon Compliance Canons Got Fired - Look it's fun to diverge. A little. Vaguely remembering the hidden rooms under the Inn for some setting, and trying to keep close to how I see the relationship developing more between the dynamics of these 2 and how their life views may come in to conflict. Other Notes Darlings we are here for the fun headcanon and toying with ideas of how different aspects of the world and lore could be utilised. Got ideas for additions? Drop them in the comments. Song/Mood Poison Apple by Echo Black "Another midnight, I saw your face, The hunger hit me and I had to have a taste. No need to fight it, temptation reigns, Your touch is wicked and it's burning through my veins. Never refuse forbidden fruit My strength is waning and my demons running loose I should've felt it, before the fall, I saw the apple took a bite and lost it all." ----- FULL CHAPTER BELOW THE CUT -----

It seemed like their time in the cursed Shadowlands might never end. Searching through ruined towns for clues to the past, fighting their way through the souls that had fallen before them, seeking light to chase the shadows. At least they now had the blessing to protect them, and somewhere to sleep safely in the Last Light Inn surrounded by Harpers and the Tiefling refugees from the Druid grove had also arrived safely. Tav had been relieved to see Dammon was with them, alive, well, and willing to trade once more. His help for Karlach was invaluable, too. She glanced over at the barbarian, sleeping like a small child now cuddling up to a large stuffed toy that Gale had enchanted to be safe from her heat. She looked peaceful, for a change. Unfortunately, Tav was far from peaceful herself. She felt completely restless. The Sword Coast was apparently full of painfully attractive people, and sharing a communal room did not allow for privacy to scratch certain itches. It did not help at all that Astarion flirted as easily as breathing, and she had yet to build up an immunity to his undeniable charms. Truth be told, a few of the others had flirted too, but she wasn’t too certain that everyone felt the same way that she did about lust and love. There was only so far she was willing to go with flirting back, some lines once crossed would end with someone getting hurt, and she was not going to let that happen. Luckily for her, the night was about to get a little more interesting, as she wasn’t the only one still awake. “Not even trying to meditate through the night? Darling, it is bad for your health to go without resting. Look at those bruises, they’re not going to get any better if you just toss and turn all night are they?” Astarion kept his voice low, but the wink was a very clear hint. He held out a hand, an invitation to leave the confines of the room.

“You’re up to something.” Tav stated plainly, but still took his hand and stood up, following him out of the room. “Are you disappointed? We can get by on less rest than the others by meditating, but that doesn’t mean I can just leave you there unable to do even that.” His words held concern, but his voice still carried that flirtatious edge to it. “Well, what are you suggesting?” Tav raised an eyebrow, scouring his face for any hint of what he might be up to.

“You’ll see~” He winked again, and kept leading her down the stairs. --- A few minutes later, they were in a secret room beneath the Inn. A hidden door had brought them to a place that looked like a storage area. It was dusty, smelled a little like mildew and…did cobwebs have an odour? They might as well, but it didn’t matter much. It was a small place, alone once the lever had swung the door closed behind them. “You better not have trapped us in here, I haven’t brought any lockpicks down here.” Tav laughed a little, but not without a hint of real concern. It would be terribly embarrassing to end their days locked below the Inn where nobody could find them. “Darling you worry too much, I checked it all myself earlier while you were busy with dinner.” He made a few motions and spoke a few words, prestidigitation replacing the scents clinging in the air with…

“Roses? You made it smell like roses? Is this dusty old storeroom meant to be romantic?” “If it doesn’t suit we can always leave, you know.” He almost sounded offended.

“I didn’t say that. Wait, why do you have a bag with you? And where else did you go during dinner?” She had wondered where he slipped off to, as he didn’t really partake of much food or drink with the party. After all, when he was hungry, she could happily offer herself to slake his thirst. The arrangement was not entirely just for his benefit, either.

“Wouldn’t you like to know~” He smirked playfully, putting his bag down to one side and dusting off some old sacks and cloths from a shelf. “Of course I want to know, that’s why I asked.” She regretted her impatience, but couldn’t resist the temptation to answer with as sharp a wit as she received. “Well, love, I know it’s no luxury bed with silk sheets - which is what I would far prefer to compliment a form as beautiful as yours - but the sight of you will certainly brighten up the place.” His eyes travelled the length of her curves, a slight hunger betrayed by his tongue absent-mindedly moistening his lips, the hint of fangs glinting dangerously. Irresistible, Tav thought, even in a dank rotten storeroom… She removed her outer clothes, taking her time for his benefit as he sat down to enjoy the show. All a part of the game, really, test his patience as well as her own, knowing full well that their blood ran hot when they were alone. “Hungry, are you?”

“You could say that…” His voice trailed off for a moment, eyes lingering on her neck as she tied her hair up again. He took off his shirt and reclined slightly, his back against the wall. “Come, sit right here.” Tav followed his instruction with rising tension, sitting between his parted knees, her back leaning against his now bare chest. “What about your bag? Come on you can’t leave it a mystery all night.” “Well well aren’t we impatient… No, not yet, it’s a surprise. For now,” he began to run his hands up her sides, travelling from her hips to her waist, caressing her chest, and coming to rest in a firm grip on her shoulders securing her against him as his lips came so tantalisingly close to her ear. “May I have a little appetiser, first?” A shiver ran down Tav’s spine and through her whole body, which answered for her. Without even thinking about it she rolled her head back onto his shoulder, exposing her bare neck to him, her breath held in anticipation. She didn’t have to wait long, it had been days since he last fed. Astarion kept one arm around her chest, the other hand rising to her forehead to hold her firmly in place as his fangs penetrated her waiting neck. She gasped, the decadent blend of pain and intimacy coursing through her veins like lightning. Her body felt like a coiled spring, tensed, every muscle screaming danger in a discordant symphony with delight. His tongue caressed softly, lips pressing gentle kisses, even as his fangs stung and drew fresh blood. His moan vibrated against her throat, but her own voice was muffled as his hand moved down to her mouth. The heat of lust rose within her alongside the heated torment of the pleasured pain as he fed, careful, ever careful not to take more than she could handle, but still leaving her breathless with desire for more. Tav almost didn’t notice when he loosened his grip, her mind was almost blank from the experience. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever get used to the intensity when he fed like this, and she also wasn’t sure if she ever wanted to. Before she could even begin to regain her bearings, though, a soft cloth covered her eyes, tied securely at the back of her head. “Are you comfortable, love?” His voice at her ear made her head spin again, she just about managed to nod an affirmation. “Perfect. Stay still, now.” She tried very hard to resist the temptation to try and see what might be coming out of the pack next to them, but she kept that trust. His chest, warm and firm against her back, held a comforting strength. His legs, either side of her hips, pressed against her sides like a lover’s embrace, even without his arms. Just when it began to feel empty in the breathless anticipation, she felt a cool sensation pass over her skin. There was no touch, but like a breeze came from nowhere. Next came heat, moving across different areas still left exposed. Then…a stinging, but not unpleasant. A hint of electric pain lighting up her nerves, sparks carefully measured and controlled, pinpointing the most exquisite sensation. Tav’s breath now came in ragged gasps, each new shock just a little more intense, but soothed with the heat and cool before she could feel pain. If she’d had the ability to form any sound other than a wanton moan, she might’ve asked what all this was, but even this was silenced the moment she felt something pressed between her legs.

---

Behind his lover, Astarion grinned. The symphony he was playing on her body was making such a sweet melody, and he was drinking every second like wine. The little effects of a cantrip were easy to manipulate, and Gale had been very helpful in showing him ways that it could be controlled. He briefly wondered exactly what it might be like to lay with the God of Magic herself, but Gale wasn’t quite the type to kiss and tell. Or at least, not to tell every detail. His smile widened as Tav moaned again, the small object in his hand pressing right where she wanted it most…but there was more to this little metal device. He almost laughed as he remembered how red Dammon’s cheeks had become at the suggestion, but of course the craftsman was incredibly skilled and willing to try making something new. “Oh it’s just for relaxing tired muscles” Astarion had grinned when describing the device, though whether either of them believed that excuse didn’t matter. Now all he had to do was channel just a little electricity through it, and-

---

Tav heard the humming of the tool just as she felt the vibrations. She didn’t know what it was, but she had some idea of what might have been going on whilst she was busy and leaving Astarion unsupervised. Having her eyes covered made every sensation so much more intense, too, and it was becoming almost maddening. But just as she felt close to cascading over the edge, the device moved away. “N...no...you can’t-” She could hear the desperation in her voice but she didn’t care. 

“Not yet, Darling, I want you to feel everything. ” His words arrived in her ear as a low growl, the sound waves shaking her foundations. A distraction, as he shifted behind her. Strong hands took hold of her hips, lifting her smoothly, holding her where she could just feel what was coming next, pressing her hips down as he entered at last. His legs move a little beneath her, allowing a little leverage  to both of them, the kisses along her neck and shoulder giving her the silent permission. Tav’s body became utterly enveloped by sensation. The depth of her lover pressing inside, the feeling of the sparks from his fingertips caressing her body, and his lips tracing loving lines wherever they could reach. She kept her pace slow, too, as much as she longed to rush to the hedonistic release, she was enjoying drawing it out now as much as he did. Fangs cut tiny holes in her back, a quick tongue tasting her flesh and blood with a growing greed, and soon the little device was back with more delicious torment. Her muscles quivered with the intensity building to fever pitch, drowning in a sea of pleasure, the edges of pain only heightening the ecstasy. She might have even felt his pulse racing through her back, had the subtle vibration of his own moans echoing through his chest not silenced that particular drum. As the more intense vibrations began to drive her towards the climax she so desperately desired, Tav matched a more relentless pace with her hips. She was lost to it all, filled, surrounded, caught, controlled, and in that moment so utterly free. Her head rolled back, her neck soon feeling the passion of a myriad of kisses, bites, and the sign they were about to fall so deliciously into the pleasure together. Every nerve lit up, every muscle tensed and release, this time a full volume voice escaping their throats as a single noise echoing from the walls. Time almost slowed down as they felt the incredible rush of euphoria, drawing out the moment as long as they could before it passed, leaving them weakened and breathless in the dark. A small noise on the floor told her that the mystery device had now been abandoned, as Astarion’s arms surrounded Tav, holding her even closer against him while they regained their senses. “You are so beautiful like this,” he whispered, finally lifting the silk from her eyes and kissing her cheek, “see?” “What do you-” Then she saw it, the mirror on the other side of the room, the only clean thing around, with the cloth that had likely covered it when they came in discarded on the floor beside it. Mage Hand, she thought to herself, of course he would- “It felt like a shame if I couldn’t see you, all of you, enjoying this~” He pulled her into another kiss before she had a chance to argue. “Wasn’t it just exhilarating , love?” “I… You know it was… But…” Tav looked at the mirror. “You’re not even there, are you…” “I haven’t seen my reflection in centuries Darling, I don’t miss it,” a little lie, and one that did not get past her notice, “but I saw what I wanted. You. Your body moving with pleasure, your face flush with blood and heat, the way you gasp when you want more …” It was hard to argue, besides which, Tav finally felt tired, like it was time to rest at last. “We should-” “We should stay right here. It doesn’t matter, does it? I’ll wake you up by morning, and we’ll just slip in to the room like we were there all night and just went for a little fresh air .” He brought his legs around her now too, trapping her in a comfortably tight embrace. “You’re not in a rush to escape me, are you?”

Tav yawned, the exhaustion beginning to surrender to the warmth and safety of being in her favourite place. “I don’t suppose you’d care to argue, and those beds were never that comfortable anyway.” “Good girl,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head softly and bringing a blanket around them, “now get some rest. Plenty of running around and killing things to do tomorrow, after all.” She relaxed further, shuffling down a little so her head could come to rest against his chest, listening to the slow heartbeat as her own personal lullaby. It didn’t take long for her eyes to fall closed in the peace they shared before the next storm could draw in.

---

Astarion held her close, savouring the warm weight of her body coming to rest against him. He still didn’t understand how she could give herself so completely to him, how she could relax so easily in the arms of a killer…but he wanted nothing more. His hand idly caressed her soft hair and skin, pulling the blanket a little closer where it had slipped off her shoulder, the bruises still refusing to fade from the reality of their daylight hours. The night , he told himself, belongs to me…to us , he found himself correcting himself, much to his own surprise. What am I supposed to do about this… A dozen thoughts and feelings fought for dominance in his mind as he finally drifted into an uneasy rest himself, holding his heart in his arms.

----------- ----------- ENDING NOTES ----------- ----------- Honestly, that art with the mirror? You know the one, loves, ohh that was delicious~ I don't have much more to say with this chapter though, it's all just some nice spice to solidify how close they have become, the trust that has built, and the odd kind of "new normal" before that is broken back down again.

[blackjackkent]

Continuing explorations through the sewer, really hoping to find Minsc one of these freaking days, and we still haven't found him, BUT LOOK WHO WE DID FIND!

Our vine-touched tiefling adoptee, surrounded by a bunch of dead bodies.

I'm getting Sandal vibes. ENCHANTMENT.

Hector and Karlach (who definitely were feeling a smidge parental towards Arabella by the end of the shadowlands) are glad to see she's not dead. But also, girl, what are you doing down here? O.O

Narrator: Arabella seems not to notice you as you approach. She's as intent on examining a peculiar stone as she is unbothered by the corpses littered on the ground.

Even the narrator sounds a bit bewildered by the situation.

"Arabella?" Shadowheart asks with concern. (OK maybe the whole team was feeling parental towards Arabella. XD )

The girl turns around slowly, then grins up calmly at them. "Hey! I had a feeling you'd show up. It's sort of our thing. Like it's fate or something."

She sounds utterly unphased by the situation. Despite it having been only a month or so since she left their company, she seems much older - her bearing steadier, her grim calm and collected - almost to an unsettling degree.

"Check out the stone," she goes on, jerking her head to indicate the object she was examining. "It's magic. Incredible, right?"

Hector blinks and looks past her, curious in spite of himself.

[ARCANA] Study the stone.

Narrator: You are flooded with memories of the distant past. Creatures slain, lovers reunited, spells crackling through the air. The stone holds records of all who have passed by it. Arabella is collecting them; it's as natural as breathing to her.

Hector's head snaps back and his eyes widen. What...? The vine-entangling magic Arabella displayed in the shadowlands was intense enough for a ten-year-old to bear, but this...

What is this? And how did this happen at all, for surely these powers did not come from the Idol of Silvanus, no matter what Arabella claimed. And what is she being driven to do?

"You're right..." he says shakily. "That stone is incredible. I saw past events as if I'd been there myself..."

"And I've only scratched the surface!" Arabella says eagerly. "I want to know *everything*." Her eyes widen; her fingers twitch at her sides with unspent energy. "Bone Man was right. The Weave will take care of me. I just need to listen."

Hector frowns. He doesn't understand what's going on here, and that makes him very uncomfortable. "There are corpses everywhere," he says, deliberately making his tone as firm as possible to hide his confusion. "What happened?"

"Bandits," she says matter-of-factly. "Came at me with daggers." Her eyes narrow and her face screws up in tight anger. "They didn't know who they were messing with."

"Have you been on your own this whole time?" he asks, his frown deepening.

"Yes," she says promptly. "And I like it that way. Bone Man told me to follow the Weave, to let it guide me. I've learned a lot, thanks to him. And I'm still learning."

She draws back a step, crosses her arms. "Don't worry about me. I'll be just fine. I'll see you soon enough. Bone Man said so."

And with that... she turns away, resumes her intent study of the stone, and proceeds to seemingly forget all about his presence.

Strange... Hector looks at the others, who all give him equally puzzled shrugs. None of them know what to make of this. Hector sighs. He's going to have to try to talk to Withers again about this whole situation, and he has no doubt of how well that will go.

[waywardpensman]

My magic system for my novel

Its a bit of a read so enjoy lmao

and I do apologise for being quiet for ages lol

Magic System for Aetheria: The Dual Weave

In the world of Aetheria, magic flows from two primary forces: The Celestial Light and The Abyssal Shadow. These two powers, which were once united in a single, harmonious source of magic, were violently split during the event known as the Sundering. Since then, mages of Aetheria and the Shadowlands have been taught to wield only one side of this divided magic, but some, like Kael Rynn, seek to understand both.

The core of this magic system revolves around The Dual Weave: the intricate relationship between light and shadow magic, where mastery lies in the understanding that neither is inherently good nor evil, but both are necessary to maintain the balance of the world.

Foundations of Magic:

Essence: Magic in Aetheria is drawn from the Essence of the World, a primal force that pervades all living things and the environment itself. This essence is divided into two types:

Celestial Essence (Light) – Associated with purity, order, protection, and life.

Abyssal Essence (Shadow) – Associated with transformation, chaos, secrecy, and decay.

Conduits: All magic users, called Weavers, channel magic through conduits—physical or mental focal points that allow them to access and manipulate the Essence. These can be innate, such as the user's body, or external, like staves, crystals, or enchanted objects.

Weaves: Magic is cast by forming Weaves, which are complex patterns of light or shadow essence. Each type of magic requires different weaves, from simple spells like basic shielding or energy projection to complex rituals that bend reality.

Schools of Magic:

Celestial Weaving Celestial Magic, the power of the Light, is commonly practiced in Aetheria. It draws upon the structured, radiant force of the Celestial Essence, which grants users powers of protection, healing, and enlightenment. The Celestial Weavers believe that their magic is tied to righteousness and clarity of purpose.

Illumination: Creating radiant light, banishing shadows, and revealing hidden truths.

Wardcraft: Defensive spells that form shields, barriers, and protections. These can be either personal or for protecting large areas.

Restoration: Healing the wounded, purifying disease, and restoring the vitality of living beings.

Radiant Command: Control over natural elements through the manipulation of light, such as summoning fire, blinding enemies, or influencing weather.

Abyssal Weaving Abyssal Magic, practiced in the Shadowlands, draws from the Abyssal Essence. It is less understood by the people of Aetheria and is often feared, as it deals with powers of change, concealment, and entropy. Abyssal Weavers can manipulate darkness, hide their presence, or accelerate natural decay.

Veilcasting: The power to manipulate shadows and conceal oneself or others. Advanced weavers can create illusions or become completely invisible in darkness.

Entropy: The acceleration of natural decay or degradation. This can be used to break down physical structures or sap the life force from enemies.

Transmutation: Abyssal Weavers can change the shape and nature of objects or beings, transforming matter into different states.

Soulbinding: The manipulation of life energy, which can be used to influence minds, raise the dead, or channel the power of fallen spirits.

Dual Weaving:

The rarest and most powerful form of magic is Dual Weaving, which combines both Celestial and Abyssal forces into a single weave. Few can perform this, as it requires deep understanding and perfect balance between the two forces. Dual Weavers have access to abilities that transcend both light and shadow, but practicing this magic is forbidden in Aetheria due to its association with heresy.

Equilibrium Weaving: The balance of light and shadow magic allows a Dual Weaver to influence both order and chaos. This type of magic can restore balance to imbalanced areas, neutralize other spells, or bind creatures of light and shadow alike.

Temporal Magic: Dual Weaving can also manipulate time in small ways—slowing it, speeding it up, or creating brief moments of stasis by weaving both forces together.

Reality Shifting: Advanced Dual Weavers can alter the fundamental nature of space, bending reality or creating small pocket dimensions where both light and shadow coexist harmoniously.

Anima Fusion: Dual Weavers can merge life forces from both light and shadow, creating hybrid creatures or fusing themselves with elemental beings for a temporary boost in power.

Laws of Magic:

The Law of Harmony: Light and shadow must always remain in balance. If a Weaver draws too heavily on one force without respecting the other, they risk losing control of the magic. Overuse of Celestial Essence can lead to blindness (both literal and metaphorical), an inability to see the subtleties of reality, while overuse of Abyssal Essence can cause madness, as the mind is consumed by the chaos of shadow.

The Sundering Limit: The Sundering created an artificial divide in magic, which has made accessing both forces difficult. Most weavers can only wield one type of Essence. However, with special training or forbidden rituals, a rare few can overcome this limit and access both.

Essence Decay: Overuse of magic leads to Essence Decay, a slow degradation of the Weaver’s ability to harness magic. Those who rely too much on their powers, especially if they disrupt the balance of light and shadow, can lose their connection to magic entirely. Celestial magic overuse leads to physical frailty, while Abyssal overuse drains the soul and shortens the lifespan.

Foci: Certain places or objects are naturally attuned to one type of Essence. For instance, in areas rich with Celestial Essence, light magic is easier to cast, while Abyssal magic is weaker. Conversely, the deep forests of the Shadowlands are saturated with Abyssal Essence, amplifying shadow magic and weakening light-based weaves.

Magical Artifacts and Relics:

The Orb of Sundering: A legendary relic said to hold the combined power of both light and shadow, created during the event of the Sundering. It is rumored that whoever masters the orb can restore the world to its pre-Sundering state, merging light and shadow back into one harmonious force.

Celestial Crystals: Glowing, radiant crystals used by Aetherian mages to amplify their connection to the Celestial Essence. They are often embedded in staves or worn as amulets to boost power.

Obsidian Sigils: Dark, jagged stones infused with Abyssal Essence, carried by Weavers of the Shadowlands. These sigils allow their wielders to enhance shadow spells, control creatures of darkness, or summon shades from the Abyss.

Final Thoughts:

In this world of divided magic, conflict arises not just between the forces of light and shadow, but within individuals who seek to find harmony between the two. Those who practice Dual Weaving, like Kael Rynn, must navigate the dangerous path between these opposing forces, risking not only their lives but the very nature of magic itself. As Kael uncovers the truth about the Sundering, he begins to understand that restoring balance between light and shadow might be the only way to prevent the world from falling into chaos again.

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Wizard of Oz (the whump AU) Plot Summary

While I love so much about this project, I don't see myself having the time/motivation to do anything for it story-wise. I may still post short comics or doodles, but the main story will probably never get its prose, at least not in the foreseeable future

Therefore, for those who were interested in it, under the cut is a (pretty detailed) synopsis of how the story would've gone :)

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Character Details:

(note: art of the characters is linked, but some lead to full comic pages/whumpier art. Also, characters will be referred to as their better-known names throughout the synopsis to lessen confusion)

Dorothy Gale - Stranded in Oz at 12, Dorothy has since made a name for herself as a witch hunter and general assassin.

Tokoret "Toto" Nightshade - Dorothy's partner. A tiefling-like humanoid from the land of Shahaedr, and an ex-mercenary. Dorothy rescued from his former employers.

The Tin-Man/Farran Black - A fallen soldier who was "rescued" and resurrected by the Wizard. His heart and a few limbs were replaced by enchanted inventions, and the Wizard keeps his original heart in his lab, preserved by magic.

The Scarecrow/Wil Ironcrest - A thief imprisoned by the Wizard after being caught one too many times. His voice was magically sealed away due to his tendency to insult his captor, and his mouth was stitched closed for good measure.

The Lion/Reyne Arada - Taken in by the Wizard after his village was destroyed. Subject to several magical experiments meant to turn him into a ferocious protector.

The Wizard/??? - A powerful and mysterious magician. Guardian and unofficial ruler of the Emerald City.

Kanna Lanterne/The Woods Witch - A master of nature magic. Actively opposes the Wizard, and lives in an isolated part of the woods.

Glinda Utara/The North Witch - One of the Wizard's closest allies, and occasional tormenter of the Tin Man.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Setting Details:

Oz is the country as a whole. It borders Shahaedr, known by less-tolerant Oz citizens as 'the shadowlands'. Oz and Shahaedr are almost constantly at war with each other, and are currently in one of their periods of fragile peace. The war Tinman died in was between Oz and Shahaedr. The Emerald City is one of the closest settlements to the border of the two lands.

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Summary:

Dorothy and Toto are traveling via horse-drawn cart to the Wizard's castle to meet about a hunting job, when they encounter Scarecrow, who is in the middle of attempting an escape. The pair try to help him, and make an effort to figure out what he's running from, but are horrified to discover that his mouth has been sewn shut, and he cannot speak. Before they're able to do anything, a pair of guards appears to drag him away, claiming he's a dangerous criminal in the care of the Wizard, and apologizing for the disturbance.

They carry on, soon reaching the Wizard's castle, and are told the Wizard will see them at dinner that night.

When the time comes, they briefly meet the Tinman, who serves the meal. Dorothy asks after Scarecrow, mentioning she met him on the road, but the Wizard says he's been taken care of and moves on to discussing the job.

He asks her to kill the wicked witch of the wood, and offers a large sum. Dorothy tells him she cares less about the money than the justice, and asks what the witch has done. The Wizard spins a tale of her evil deeds, and Dorothy agrees to begin the hunt the next day.

Meanwhile, Tinman is excused, and goes to check on Scarecrow, who's been beaten and confined to a cell. He does what he can to treat his fellow captive.

Later, Dorothy is settling in, and tells Toto that she doesn't trust the Wizard, especially with the way he treats his supposed servants. After dark, she sneaks out of their room to have a look around, and is drawn to a strange green light that seems to be coming from a staircase. When she tries to get closer, she runs into Lion, who attempts to scare her away, but fails, and becomes upset because of it. Dorothy comforts him, and they have a quick conversation. He promises not to tell the Wizard she was snooping.

The next day, the Wizard confronts her for snooping.

Lion is with him, looking somewhat ashamed as the Wizard boasts about his familiar's loyalty. Dorothy doesn't mention her distrust, but admits she was curious about a green glow she saw earlier. The Wizard claims it's his "own special brand of magic", and deflects any further questions. At this point, Scarecrow, who's been cleaning the hall throughout this conversation, collapses. When Dorothy runs to help him, the Wizard tells her to not bother.

She tries anyway, despite being met with wariness from the three captives, and helps Tinman get him to a bed. They talk briefly, and she expresses disapproval of the Wizard's disciplinary methods. The Wizard comes upstairs and hurries her along before she can ask any questions, but the Tinman is now more trusting of her. Afterwards, she begrudgingly goes into the Emerald City to get information on the witch.

While there, she notices an alarming amount of citizens are wearing green spectacles. They claim it's a wearable protection spell gifted to them by the Wizard. When asked about the witch, the lenses seem to glow as the people speak of evil and treachery. Later, Dorothy finds a broken pair and cautiously moves to try them on, but is stopped by Jade, a street vendor. Jade warns her they poison the wearer into madness, and it's all the Wizard's doing. Dorothy asks about the witch and the captives, and is given honest, if uninformed, answers. The Wizard took the three in under the guise of helping them and providing 'gainful employment', but anyone can see none of them are treated well, and the witch's only crime is refusing to ally with the Wizard.

Meanwhile, it's revealed that the Wizard was watching them through the broken glasses.

When Dorothy returns, she claims she's learned enough and will leave to hunt the witch the next morning. The Wizard offers to pay her in advance, but she declines, and is dodgy about further questions, having made up her mind about where her loyalties lie.

That night, she and Toto make plans to break in a week later, when the Wizard is supposed to be away, and free his captives, as well as investigate the odd green magic. They find Lion spying on them, and calm him down, talking him into not telling the Wizard.

Lion goes to tell the other two, but the Wizard is nearby and overhears some; afterwards cornering Lion and coercing him into revealing the duo's plans, threatening to hurt the others if he doesn't.

When Dorothy and Toto set out the next day, they're ambushed by the Wizard's guards. Dorothy escapes, but is wounded, and passes out in the middle of the woods after running a good distance. Upon waking, she finds herself in the witch's garden. The witch knows Dorothy by reputation, and introduces herself as Kanna. Despite being on edge and distrustful at first, they come to an understanding and agree to help each other: Kanna will help to free Toto and the captives, and Dorothy will aid her in taking down the Wizard.

Meanwhile, the Wizard hosts Glinda, who is delighted to take part in interrogating a captive Toto, and agrees to help the Wizard with his plans to invade Shahaedr, Toto's homeland, despite the delicate treaty Oz currently holds with them.

Back in the woods, Kanna tells Dorothy she'll put the Wizard's guards under a sleeping spell, but must stay in her garden to focus. She promises to catch up with Dorothy and lead them all back to the safe haven once the three captives are freed.

With the advantage of being presumed dead by the Wizard, Dorothy easily breaks in and finds the Tinman and Lion locked in separate cells. Scarecrow has been tied up outside, left to starve as a punishment. There is no sign of Toto, and Dorothy is forced to flee when the Wizard seems to be returning, taking her horse, which had been stabled at the Wizard's after the ambush.

They cut the stitches that seal Scarecrow's mouth, but he still can't speak due to the Wizard's magic. (He has totems that grant him more control over them: a straw doll for Scarecrow and an iron one for Tinman).

Meanwhile, the Wizard is outraged to find his prizes gone. His eyes fall on the totems, and he reaches for the metal doll.

On the road, Tinman suddenly starts writhing in pain as the Wizard holds his totem's metal leg over a fire, then saws away at his arm with a file. Dorothy is unsure what to do, resolved to simply holding Tinman and trying to comfort him. Lion is panicking, and Scarecrow is still too weak to be of much help.

Kanna suddenly arrives, and analyzes the scene. She and Dorothy remove his metal limbs, and the Wizard watches as the totem's corresponding limbs crumble away, becoming furious. He seizes Tinman's heart, and holds it over the fire.

When Tinman starts screaming, Kanna realizes the Wizard also replaced his heart, and orders Dorothy to cut it out quickly while she makes a replacement. Dorothy does, apologizing all the way through, and Kanna gives him a heart of living plants in the nick of time.

The Wizard watches Tinman's totem crumble, and angrily turns to Scarecrow's.

As the women help a barely conscious Tinman onto the horse, a frantic noise from Scarecrow stops them. They quickly figure out he's been blinded and deafened by the Wizard. Kanna isn't able to do much, as she can't replace a mind. Tinman manages to calm him down by weakly signing into his hand, and they proceed to the safe haven.

Dorothy talks to Lion, who feels restless and guilty over leaving. He hates and loves the Wizard in equal parts, since the castle is the only home he can fully remember. Afterwards, Dorothy gets a psychic message from the Wizard, taunting her with the image of a beaten Toto.

Meanwhile, Kanna looks after Tinman, creating him new prosthetic limbs out of plants.

Dorothy leaves in the dead of the night to confront the Wizard and rescue Toto, but he defeats her by controlling several of the villagers' minds through the emerald glasses. Dorothy is horrified, realizing he has the capability to turn the people of the Emerald City into an army. She manages to get away, taking Scarecrow's totem with her.

While she's gone, Glinda finds and terrorizes the garden, overpowering Kanna, then beating up Scarecrow and taunting Tinman. Lion momentarily overcomes his fear to save his friends, and claws Glinda across the face, forcing her to retreat.

Dorothy returns, and gets mildly chewed out by a recovering Kanna. Together they use the totem to help restore Scarecrow's senses and voice.

Now that Glinda knows where they are, the group decides to relocate. Kanna and Tinman start to bond, but when things veer into a more intimate territory, he freezes up, prompting her to pull back. The two talk it out, and set some healthy boundaries.

Dorothy is once again taunted with Toto, who's in bad shape, but this time everyone's dragged in as the Wizard offers to exchange him for Lion. Just Lion. The others tell him not to do it, but with all the times his friends have shielded him, Lion refuses to cooperate, deciding to give himself up if that means the Wizard will stop coming after Tinman and Scarecrow.

He sneaks off to meet the Wizard, but the Wizard simply shoves a bound and injured Toto into the woods, claiming this was technically the deal. Lion tries to stand up to him, but is swiftly cowed.

Toto is found by Jade, who recognizes him and takes him in. At this point, she realizes things around the city are getting weird as the Wizard makes his final preparations to storm Shahaedr. The people wearing the emerald glasses seem strangely intent on finding or improvising weapons.

With Lion missing, the remaining four set out to find him, with Jade encountering them in the process. Dorothy and Toto reunite, but it's cut short when the citizens of the city begin marching in rank towards Shahaedr.

They return to the Wizard's castle. Tinman and Scarecrow split off to find and free Lion, while Dorothy and Kanna go to confront the Wizard. They fight their way past the Wizard's guards, and finally make it to his lab. Glinda is standing beside him as he channels energy through a huge orb that's glowing green, and Kanna challenges her to a fight as Dorothy attacks the Wizard.

Despite his being a skilled magic user, Dorothy is a witch hunter, and manages to match the Wizard, blow-for-blow. Just when she manages to get the upper hand, the Wizard draws energy from the green orb, healing himself and regaining his energy. Though it seems like a lost cause, Dorothy fights on.

Kanna manages to defeat Glinda, but even together, the Wizard has them outmatched as long as he has access to the orb. Just when it seems like he's won, his ex-captives make it to the lab, and Lion breaks away from the group, attacking him.

Surprised and hurt that his own Familiar would hurt him, the Wizard is initially too shocked to fight back, and Dorothy and Kanna surge in to help. Meanwhile, Tinman and Scarecrow manage to reach the orb, and shatter it.

The glow immediately stops, and the Wizard is defeated soon after.

Going back into the Emerald City, they find piles of broken green glasses, and confused, but unharmed civilians. With both their friends and the city freed from the Wizard, the group heads back to Kanna's garden, to rebuild and recover.

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@blackberry-bloody , @unicornscotty , @whumpwillow , @grizzlie70 , @burtlederp , @madrono-but-i-am-not-a-fruit , @outofangband , @whumpy-catfish ,

and thank you to @whumpingwithclara-alt for the emerald glasses idea :)

if anyone actually read this whole thing and wants more of a specific scene mentioned, let me know and I can try to draw it

[ty-bayonet-betteridge]

anyway here's some thoughts on the lifers's Ancestors

The Observer - Grian's ancestor. A spy/informant of shifting and unclear allegiances.

The Swindler - Scar's ancestor. It was said of him that a capricious god cursed him by stealing the use of his legs, but in the same breath blessed him with a silver tongue. Used his gift of charisma as part of a plot to rob The Overlord of his enchanter, a powerful artifact of uncertain origin and purpose.

The Inventor - Mumbo's ancestor. A technological genius. The Liegeman stayed with him briefly after The Overlord's death, and developed flushed feelings for him, but left without exploring them, hoping to avoid detection by The Observer (rumored to be the moirail of the Inventor.)

The Huntress - Pearl's ancestor. Not quite sure what her deal is yet. Probably the one who actually kills The Liegeman.

??? - Gem's ancestor, no idea what to do with her.

??? - Scott's ancestor, probably joins The Revenant in their quest for revenge

??? - Joel's ancestor, no idea what to do with him

??? - Etho's ancestor, no idea

??? - Bdubs's ancestor, no idea

??? - Impulse's ancestor, no idea

??? - Tango's ancestor, no idea.

??? - Skizz's ancestor, he helps the Overlord and Liegeman overthrow Her Eminence but I'm not sure past that

The Betrayer / The Nobleman - BigB's ancestor. A former member of Her Eminence's court, he assisted The Overlord and Liegeman in overthrowing her, and in doing so kills The Countess.

The Countess / The Revenant - Cleo's ancestor. A former member of Her Eminence's court, who after being killed by The Betrayer mysteriously reanimates and begins a campaign of revenge. She claims The Betrayer's head and helps The Swindler slay The Overlord, before setting their sights on The Liegeman. They and The Liegeman also have a torrid affair which cycles rapidly between red and black feelings.

Her Eminence - Lizzie's ancestor. Queen of the Shadowlands, and a powerful conqueror. Killed by The Overlord during a coup.

Overlord Redhound / The Sanguine Overlord - Ren's ancestor. Once a member of Her Eminence's court, he was exiled and later returned with The Liegeman at his side. They began a coup and were successful in taking the throne of the Shadowlands, until The Revenant and The Swindler's campaign of revenge killed The Overlord.

Liegeman Martinez Redwoods - Martyn's ancestor. Martyn finds his journal, which is how the Lifers and the audience find out about the ancestors. Matesprits with The Overlord until his death, which forces The Liegeman on the run from The Revenant's revenge campaign.

??? - Jimmy's ancestor, no idea

[miirshroom]

Speculation on Miquella before the Elden Ring DLC

Personally, I hope that Miquella is 1000 Leucochloridium paradoxum in a Miquella suit. Worm that walks. Demon's Souls' Leechmonger 2.0.

Put an end to the binary discourse about whether Miquella is a evil manipulator or a sweet cinnamon role. It's just in the nature of the green banded broodsac that it needs to grow in the amber-shelled snail and wiggle into the snail eye stalks and mind control its host to a place where it can be eaten by a bird and perpetuate its life cycle. Apparently this doesn't even need to be fatal for the snail - the worm can be pulled out and the snail grows a new eye stalk. And it's not terrible for the bird either because the worm lives in its cloaca and feeds on waste product. Nature is weird btw.

There are a few ways that I can see this handled with nuance in Elden Ring.

Mohg is the bird that plucked the worm from it's host. He grows bird wings. He was enchanted by Miquella. However: Mohg's dynasty is dead. It's found in the underworld and this indicates that the cycle of parasitism is over - there will be no future generations.

Instead of literal parasites, the parasitic metaphor is a concept of dreams perpetuated generationally. Miquella is very closely associated with dreams. The Golden Order Fundamentalism that Miquella grew up with is a representation of psychological alchemy - the never ending cycle of refinement and seeking a nebulous dream of perfection. Alchemy rebranded itself from pseudoscience to pseudopsychology, but we should kill it.

Picture the Lands Between as the amber shelled snail and the Shadowlands as the bird dream world where the next generation of parasite is meant to incubate and eventually return to the Lands Between. People like to have dreams. Dreams provide hope. Miquella's devotees fervently support his efforts to complete the next dream cycle and metamorphose to whatever form comes next. They are true believers of the cult of Miquella and it is simply in his nature to enchant the mind of the host to support the dream.

If the old dreams of gold are perpetuating cycles of violence and detachment from reality (fixation on stupid conspiracy theories and esoteric solutions to modern problems) then find new and better wonders to dream about. The natural world is amazing. Space is amazing. Age of Stars, please.

So, why specifically would Miquella abandon his fate of perpetuating the dream? I have guesses. Mostly I think it's something about psychological alchemy and transition. If a person were to believe in that sort of thing, then a masculine person with a "female anima" might hypothetically believe that they must transition to a feminine person with a "male animus". Which - in practical terms - is nonsense because people should be free to just be themselves inside and out. But Elden Ring operates on moon logic, so, y'know.

Either way, I hope that Miquella abandoning his golden flesh is some kind of way of saying that he abandoned the psychological alchemy framework. That is, assuming that it was his fate to become the "animus" to Trina, as hinted with in Gowry's manipulations of Millicent in her questline. I really don't want to explain how animus/anima supposedly work - just know that it's a poisonous way to think about gender roles.

My thoughts on the Miquella situation (and honestly also the role of Melina as a "dream girl") are summed up by this Neil Gaiman quote shortly summarizing the story of the Sandman: "The Lord of Dreams learns that one must change or die, and makes his decision."

Also, in game sources for the green banded broodsac: 1) Wormfaces are one of the most enigmatic entities in the base game with no written lore pointing to them. The slugs found near them have worms for eyestalks. 2) Hewg once knew someone with green eyes the same hue as Roderika's. As noted, the "green banded" broodsac is green and lives in eyes. In her dialogue it is mentioned that Roderika had loyal followers once - perhaps analogous to the followers of Miquella...(though Roderika's name more closely alludes to Marika) 3) The horns of the omens from the recent promo image resemble segmented worms in texture and colour. 4) Crucible Wings are to be found in the DLC as per the first gameplay trailer which telegraphs that birds are important thematically.

[damien-ward]

Damien Cameos in Dragonflight

Damien’s previous cameos: [Cata - BfA] [Shadowlands]

1) Upon traveling to Camp Antonidas in the Azure Span the player can travel into the inn where they will see an NPC named Lukas Ward. He is reading a book along side an apprentice of the Kirin Tor, and he has a quest! 

Level 60 Quest: A Magical Delivery

If the player talks to Lukas he will say the following:

“Hey, you! Would you mind helping me out with something? Yes? Thanks! <finger guns at you>

I need to send something to my cousin, Damien Ward, but I am a bit busy here. I’ve been assigned to watch over this apprentice and make sure she gets her studies done. Last I heard he had some business to take care of in Dalaran, can you deliver this gun to him for me?

Now I’m sure your wondering hey why not make a portal for you to go to Dalaran? Well... let’s just say do to recent events the Kirin Tor has revoked my right to summon portals. I appreciate the help though!”

Accepting the quest, players will be given the objective to find Damien in Dalaran, and upon traveling to Dalaran the player will be lead to the shop Glorious Goods where inside they will find Damien browsing the shop. Approaching him the player can interact and complete the quest where Damien will say the following:

“You know, it’s surprisingly hard to find a good gift for your daughter when she finds cool relics while out adventuring with her mother.. I figured Dalaran would have something good to get her. You would think, right? What would a ten year old find interesting?

<Damien sighs as he searches through the shelf.>

🗨️ How are you and Lukas related?

If the player selects the following dialogue option Damien will respond with the following:

“Lukas? Why do you ask, did he send you here? If that’s case you’re probably wondering why I have a Gilnean accent and he doesn’t. Basically, my mother is from Gilneas where I was born and raised, but my father is from Stormwind. Lukas is my cousin from my father’s side, though he grew up in Dalaran and became a member of the Kirin Tor just like my uncle.”

The player will then be given an option to return to the previous chat box to turn in the quest to complete it where Damien will say:

“What’s this?

<Damien looks over the package before opening it> 

Oh! I wasn’t expecting Lukas to get this to me so soon. Thank you for delivering this to me. You don’t know how useful it is to have a gun that is enchanted to automatically reload, it saves a lot of time.

Completing this quest rewards the player with 100 gold and 250 rep with the Kirin Tor.

After completion Damien will leave the store and eventually disappear.

Rogues Only

1) This cameo is unique to only rogue players once they reach level 60. If the player has joined the Uncrowned and goes down into the Hall of Shadows, then they can find Damien leaning against one of the pillars looking around. He will also push off the pillar and walk around the Hall of Shadows. If the player approaches Damien and talks to him he will say: 

“I never thought joining the Uncrowned would end up being so beneficial. Its helped me keep tabs on certain activity in and around Stormwind the last few years, and all I do is complete a few jobs here and there to help out the Uncrowned.”

Cameos Story Elements:

These cameos reveal a few things in Damien’s story since last we saw him.

- Damien has a cousin, Lukas! Like the Shadowlands cameo we get an extended look into the Ward family as we see his cousin is a member of the Kirin Tor. Though Lukas is not Gilnean like Damien, he comes from his father’s side of the family.

- Damien has a daughter! This little story tidbit is interesting because Damien says she is 10 years old which means she was born around the time of MoP, though this is the first time Damien has mentioned her. This implies he did not know she existed until some time between Shadowlands and Dragonflight.

- Damien has gotten a new look, showing off more of his Gilnean pride by sporting the Gilnean Heritage pauldrons. He also now has a magically enchanted gun, thanks to Lukas, that he does not need to manually reload.

- Another new story element is Damien has joined the Uncrowned some time between the last time the players saw him in Shadowlands to now in Dragonflight. The cameo for rogues also hints that Damien is still a vigilante after all this time like he was back in his Legion cameo.

[landofspaceandrainbows]

Thanks to @flashfictionfridayofficial for the prompt!

~

Scar's No Good, Very Bad Day

Scar remembered Skizzle's yelling in the background, his scraped knuckles stinging with the remnants of dirt, the tnt lump in his pockets as he searched for the dull black block of enchanting stone. He remembered Skizzle's calls, giving orders, more purposeful in the background as he felt Tango and the B-man place their hands softly on his back. Feeling them feed the life energy he needed into him, calming the blood-hunger as Scar held his sword to Etho's neck.

The way back into the hide out was carefully planned. But today.... well, knowing himself, not slipping yesterday was tempting fate.

But today.... He felt the sizzle of the lava on his skin, and the force of the river, full of rain and snow, in the tight space of the ravine - he felt the air lessening, as he swum against the current. Felt. His. Lungs. Burning.

Weak, he opened his eyes, coughing water from his lungs. fumbling for the pocket mirror, he knew already what he may see. He blinked back tears as his eyes stared back, red again.

Back a few steps from home he opened the door and pocketed the forgotten green "breathing" crystal. He looked out over the balcony railing and went back and swept up another double handful of magic crystals into his overcoat pockets to sell, and some TNT for good measure. Ah well. He looked out over the towers of the Southlands, and the spires of the fortress he had come from in the west. The fairy lights on Cleo's cottage. The purple glow of the Shadowlands. All so far away.

A scruffy little sparrow fluttered down and dug pinpricks into his hand. Scar unrolled the letter on it's leg. "Maybe we'll meet together again, later. - G Man" Scar tied a pink crystal to the softened thong around the bird's ankle, and tossed it into the air.

[anzhin-the-starman]

Daily Writing Challenge: Day 3 - Mortality

[This lore is a part of Anzhin's story during the three-year peacetime after leaving the Shadowlands, sometime near the end of year three.]

TW: Depression, a quote of Foul Language/Suggestiveness, sudden Violence

A half-elf, bleary from sleep, wanders to the vanity beside his wardrobe. The growing brightness from enchanted lights is hidden by a scrim parting the room, keeping the shine from his lover still asleep in the mountains of cushions and fabrics that made his bed. On mornings like these, he looks a bit closer to his true age, especially when the glow catches the silvering strands of his hair.

'Has it really only been three years?' His thoughts whisper to him. 'Has it been three years since I lost my purpose? My job? My soul song?' He looks to one of many pictures and pieces of memory on the board on the wall cradling the vanity, the picture of Velathra and him at his last performance from three years past. 'I haven't sung with her since... We finally came up with a name for our partnership and we only used it once. She must be so disappointed in me.'

He puts a hand on his neck, looking at his sad reflection in the mirror. Even thinking to sing now makes his throat tight. Who is he? He's not a Diplomat for the Court of Night anymore, that job ended when mortals' meddling in the Shadowlands ended. He's not Starman, the singer has been silent for three long years, perhaps for forever.

Who is he? Who is Anzhin?

A half-elf that lost his meaning.

The self-loathing loop is broken by a gentle touch that gives him a start.

"Hey, babe... Are you okay?" Alathase whispers softly, draping his form over Anzhin, arms looping around the half-elf's neck. The cornsilk blond is so effortlessly pretty, petal-soft lips pressing to his boyfriend's cheek. "You look a little lost there... I'll make some tea, would you like that?"

Anzhin gives a demure nod, his voice barely above a hoarse croak. "Yes, please..."

Alathase nods in turn, slowly pulling himself away, but before he could get too far-- "What are your plans for today?" Anzhin asks, having turned and taken his hand. The Ranger smiles brightly in response. "Well, I was thinking I'd run some errands and spend some time with Evie tonight~ It's so rare our schedules actually work, you know?"

Anzhin nods, he understands. A smile even crosses his lips. Many of his partners are polyamorous themselves, and if they aren't, they understand that he himself certainly is. It's a comfort.

As Alathase disappears to the kitchen, Anzhin returns to looking at the vanity. His gaze fixes on those grey streaks again, pulling him back into the many thoughts that rattle in his mind. Such a change these simple strands bring into many of the relationships he has.

He has seen the fear in Zae'thas' gaze, the knowledge that the half-elf isn't as ageless as he is. He has also seen the so-calm sadness in Kelazen's face, understanding the passage of time, and the subtle concern in Vastherion's brow, the reminder that Anzhin is so very mortal. He's watched the panic in Allorian's face, the start of a desperate search for any sort of way to bargain with Death for him.

Jiroki's pity is rather visible to him, but he's assured himself that that is due to the trials and tribulations he's been going through to find his inner voice again while working with the Tarts.

Velathra, Velandrian, and Caythaes are rather unreadable about it, as their nature makes them nigh-immortal, and they know that anyone that isn't like them will age and die an eternity before they ever do. They are still quick to comfort him when the weight of his limited mortality bears down on him.

Aerien is indifferent to Anzhin's aging, finding it to be a rather minor detail. Alathase finds his 'graceful aging' to be especially attractive, saying, quote, "When all of this goes silver, I'm going to let you fuck me for a straight week."

It's a very wide range of emotions to deal with and comprehend. And there are still so many that he has yet to gauge a reaction from.

So, he sits. Pondering. With the help of a touch of illusion magic, he experiments. Different colors, with or without stubble, or a beard, maybe?

All ginger... It doesn't match his tired face anymore. It just looks like a man trying too desperately to cling to his youth. Away it goes.

Blond? Definitely doesn't match. Only for use with his Gremlin King costume.

He takes a breath... tries full silver. He grimaces, tinting his stubble to silver as well. It's... questionable. He tries a beard with it.

CRASH!!! The mirror shatters, a fist coated and embedded with shards of glass, the illusion gone.

Alathase rushes in with a worried noise, finding his boyfriend taking panicked breath and trembling, cradling a bloodied mess of a hand. "Ani, w-what?" He gently pulls him to stand, trying to bring him out of this shock-state. "Come on, where do you keep your first aid kit?" He could ask what happened later, once everything is calm again.

~ @daily-writing-challenge​

Mentions and Credits: Alathase Zae'thas and Kelazen @jessephantomhive​ Vastherion @danedrawn​ Allorian Jiroki @bread-elf​ Velathra and Velandrian @dragonsiblings Caythaes @mekandawn​ Aerien @thecastcompany​