#Minthara is in charge of a child

[moonselune]

So I'm writing a longfic and throughout it Minthy adopts a half-drow kid, but I wanted to see the idea as a stand-alone snippet written in your marvelous style, if you're up to it <3

Okay I'm going down the road of accidental child acquisition and for some reason or another she has this half drow kid with her when she is trying to take over Menzoberranzen. I see her plotting in a tavern pre her return, and she just has this kid with her who is trying to show off their latest trick.

Minthara sat at a weathered wooden table in a dimly lit tavern, the flickering candlelight casting shadows on her intricate maps. Her sharp eyes scanned the lines and markings, plotting her next move to reclaim Menzoberranzen. Beside her, a half-drow child fidgeted restlessly, trying to capture her attention.

"Minthy, look! One hand!" the child exclaimed, balancing precariously on a table with one hand.

"It's Minthara, not Minthy, and I am trying to—oh, by the gods, get down from there, now." Minthara snapped, glancing up from her maps. The child wobbled, their hand trembling under the strain.

"Shut up, child eater."

"Sun scum."

"Spider kisser."

"Mongrel."

"Murk—Ow!" The child's arm finally gave way, and they tumbled off the table, landing in a heap on the floor with a crash.

Minthara sighed, a small smile playing on her lips as she smoothed out her maps. "I told you to get down from there," she chided, though her eyes softened as she glanced at the child. Seeing the devious grin forming on their face, she knew they were uninjured. She then stood up abruptly, thwarting the child's plan to kick the chair from under her.

"No fair…" the child grumbled, brushing themselves off.

"Then be better," Minthara retorted as she retrieved the chair that had been unceremoniously kicked across the room.

"Then be better," the child mocked, quickly ducking to avoid the small book Minthara tossed at them. They settled on a nearby chair, drawing their legs up to their chest and huffing. "I'm bored!"

"Then make yourself useful and come plot with me," Minthara said, her tone softening slightly.

"Really?" The child's eyes lit up with excitement as they scrambled off the chair to join her at the table. They peered over the edge, trying to make sense of the intricate plans sprawled across the surface.

"Yes, really," Minthara replied, pulling them closer. "Look here," she pointed to a marked section on the map. "This is where we'll stage our ambush. What do you think we should do to catch them off guard?"

The child's brow furrowed in concentration as they studied the map. "Maybe we can hide in the shadows here," they suggested, pointing to a narrow alleyway.

"That's a good idea. We'll use that to our advantage." Minthara nodded, a proud smile tugging at her lips. She patted the child's head, affectionately, she then motioned for them to grab a chair and sit next to her.

Throughout the night they plotted and schemed, Minthara passing on all that she knew to her new prodigy. She made a mental note to start introducing them to poisons and toxins next, build up their immunity. As the moon peaked in the sky, Minthara was drawn from her thoughts by a light snore, the child had sworn that they were simply resting their head on her shoulder so they could get to see everything from her perspective. She should have known from their ceased chattering that followed soon that you had fallen asleep.

Sighing Minthara picked the child up, being careful not to stir them from their slumber. She had never thought herself particularly maternal, well at least not in the conventional sense, she knew she would be an excellent drow mother. Perhaps she could come to a compromise for this child.

Oh my god I had to stop myself from writing a full fic this was so much fun and I hope you like it - Seluney xox

[dollfat]

giving into the [outlander] peer pressure and deciding opal moved to the city after leaving the wilderness. probably around age 13.

her and her mom took whatever shitty jobs they could, usually physically demanding and not always legal. neither were especially good at socializing and opal was overwhelmed by all the people and noise. she still thinks of the Outlands as her home.

[a03heralding]

Bg3 blunt rotation headcanons:

Karlach: does not stop fucking laughing. She’s def wheezing at a joke she overheard in a lesbian bar three and a half years ago while in the middle of a sentence. The type who starts a story and ends up laughing so hard she can’t finish it.

Halsin: mellow as hell, is always encouraging the group to go for a nice walk somewhere while stoned to shit. Will he pass out or will he be caressing the flowers in his backyard? No one knows.

Shadowheart: Sis is asleep after a joint or a few hits from the bong. Is likely sleeping on Lae’zel’s shoulder with a blanket around her. We love her for that tho bc she looks so cute.

Jaheira: she is forreal trying to tell you that we’re all living in someone’s sims save or how aliens made the pyramids. Also always pulls up to the session at the most random times.

Lae’zel: when she does smoke she usually ends up tripping the fuck out and is staring at the wall like a dog that’s accidentally eaten an edible. Doesn’t partake anymore but will come and chill and act as Shart’s personal resting post.

Astarion: the one who is chatting the most shit, probably has the joint in a cigarette holder like curella de’vil. The main source of Karlach’s laughter. Is also constantly asking for Nicki Minaj songs to be added to the Spotify queue.

Wyll: straight up vibes, is probably hogging the snacks to himself tho but he’s busting jokes and laughing with Karlach about stupid shit

Gale: the person in charge of the playlist and the only one who can actually roll. He is very particular about the music bc he believes it sets the mood for the high. Is constantly denying Astarion’s request to play Chun li but puts on random shit like khazakstani jazz

Minthara: enabling Astarion’s shit talking and spilling the piping hot tea. The least faded out of all of them (except lae). Has a screenshot folder that she shows astarion so they can be shady.

Aylin: she’s productive when she’s stoned, is likely cooking something or has gone for a jog/ doing a task while wearing her socks/ Birkenstock combo

Isobel: the mom friend who is making sure everyone is drinking water and is getting fresh air while fried.

Withers: the za dealer. You have to go to his house and he only sells a min of 6gs at a time. Usually chilling and trying to hide his weed plants from the cops bc his neighbours are snitches ngl

Minsc and boo (sry I be forgetting): Brings his hamster to the function bc he doesn't want him to be lonely and believes that his best bud deserves a toke as well. Boo is a literal fucking menace and bites those who object to giving him any. There is literally always an argument bc of this but Minsc is ready to fight for his child.

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

🍗 BG3 Modern AU: Harvest Feast [Thanksgiving] Dinner Edition 🥔

A/N: Obviously, Thanksgiving doesn't exist in this universe. I mean a version could exist. There have been so many wars and fights within realms, a big ironic, disarming feast technically could have happened before some bloodshed and genocide. I’m not a DND expert. But I think with a little creative licensing, you could twist this concept more into a Harvest Festival feast sort of thing. Just go with it, I wrote it on my phone while hiding from my family members. 

Astarion: 

You remember that one vine that’s like, “Everyone has a gay cousin. Bitch, I don’t have a gay cousin… Oh, oh I am the gay cousin.” That’s him- he's the gay cousin. Always crushes it at charades. Like, he’s the unbeaten champion, for four years running. 

Gale: 

The host with the most. Always cooking new variations of the same meals. Some are good. Others, like his minimalist, organic tofu vegan recipe for turkey, are better left off as concepts, not executions. 

Wyll: 

Always brings the best dessert. And is the one to kick off the conversation at dinnertime. Either about his time as the Blade of Frontiers or about what’s currently happening in the capitol. The one cousin you’re most likely to learn is actually a secret gossip. 

Karlach: 

That one grown-up who prefers the kids to table to the grown-ups' tables. Always down to start a game outside before dinner is ready. Gets teasingly scolded by Astarion for making a bigger mess rolling around outside in the dirt than the actual children. 

La’zel:

Looks super badass when she arrives on her motorcycle. Shows up, eats, and then dips out back to hang out with Minthara for a smoke. That one intimidating, quiet cousin who everybody lowkey fears, and tries really hard not to provoke. 

Shadowheart: 

Did someone say WINE AUNT? No, seriously, she always brings the booze for the grown-ups. (Also in charge of bringing the pot, which is why La’zel and Minthara let her join them behind the garage.) She also always manages to look so put together. Not having children looks really good on her lol. 

Halsin: 

The kind of guy who goes out and hunts his own damn turkey, plucks in, and cooks it- all outdoors, without any sort of fancy oven or cookware technology. He’s got like a dirt hole firepit and a cover but always ends up making the most delicious turkey you’ve ever had in your life?? Says all he uses is salt and pepper but you know damn well, he’s lying. 

Minthara: 

The cool goth cousin you were always too intimidated to talk to as a child but who you grew up to really admire as an adult. She only comes to avoid the annoying guilt-tripping she’d have to endure should she skip. Is surprisingly personable once you get her high- almost like a Jekyll and Hyde thing going on. 

Bonus! Jaheira:

Your one Aunt who’s always exhausted, probably from having to rope her grown-ass children into doing normal things together as a family. Constantly can be heard whispering threats under her breath to them at the dinner table. Is always super nice and supportive to you though. 

Bonus! Minsc: 

Your outlier, kind of nuts Uncle who occasionally talks in the third person. Possibly from a head injury or maybe he was born like this. You can never get a straight answer. But he’s abstractly wise once you stop judging him by his initial appearance, and listen to what he has to say. Just don’t ask him about anything tangible like the moon landing, or if birds are real. Otherwise, you’re in for a long night. 

[visratarg]

▮ ❛ in the gardens of red keep, kingsland, waiting for minthara eastermont @mintharaestermont ❜ ──

Viserra Targaryen's violaceous irises wandered through the gardens of Red Keep with a calm unusual for her persona, always extravagant and on the move. Perhaps it was the memory of the little races she used to run through the flower aisles when she was less than half a meter tall alongside her mother in a silly child's game, or the small duty of warmly welcoming her new lady-in-waiting. 

Minthara Estermont. Daughter of Jaehaera, once a Targaryen, of valyrian blood. The princess had heard of the Lady of Greenstone, her brother had a seat on her brother's council, and obviously, before making her her lady-in-waiting, the silver-haired woman had done her own research into the woman. Bad-tempered and confrontational, a bit of an airhead. It was a combo that, at first glance, didn't please Viserra that much, causing her nose to twitch a little at what might come out of it. Good or bad, it had to be done, just as certain rules had to be spoken. Who's in charge, who has the final say, things like that; no big deal. 

But for all that, she had to make the request in an official capacity, looking into eyes that shared the same color as her own. The princess didn't like deals to be sealed in her name without her word being the highest and most important, even if they were as simple as these. That was why Viserra had asked a servant to summon the Lady to meet her in the gardens, a nice place for a good chat; the princess really hoped it would be great, after all, she really wanted things to go well between them, since they would be spending so much time together. It could be a bit of politicking, of course, but finding a possible friend, who knows, in the middle of it all, would be good. If it didn't go well, it would still be fun to get someone off their back. 

Hearing footsteps behind her, the Targaryen put on one of her best smiles, turning her body towards the young woman coming towards her, "Lady Greenstone, it's a pleasure to finally meet you!" He took the brunette's hands in a somewhat forced act of intimacy, "I hope your journey to Kingsland was peaceful, as were your first days here. You must be very different from what you're used to."

[ryttu3k]

Planning out my BG3 Sascha run and whoops looks like we're doing another 'bad' run. I'm sure it'll be fine!

Using the aasimar mod for that tasty Angel of Caine dynamic 8D

Old(tm). Highest stats are INT and CHA, classed as a draconic bloodline sorcerer/wizard (bloodline is gold/fire, mostly putting levels in wizard). Can't be selected in-game but they're the grandchild of Kereska, dragon god of magic.

So yes a half-deity dragon angel with fire powers I know they're OP I know but also have you seen Sascha canonically.

Trauma in their backstory, because ofc. When they were young, they fell under the control of another aasimar, Symeon, child of Tyr, who in turn served Michael, who claimed to be the avatar of Sune. Symeon was charming and manipulative, and Sascha, then calling themself Myca, fell pretty quickly under his influence. It wasn't a great time.

Had a sweet romance with Ilias, child of Silvanus. Ilias died during the Spellplague. Myca changed their name to Sascha and. Hardened themself off somewhat.

Present day, a powerful sorcerer/wizard who regularly looks in on places like Blackstaff Academy, using illusion magic to hide their wings and stuff.

Secret! Netherese! Cultist!

Has a fascination with illithid technology. It's so visceral. Why is the damn ship crashing why can't they examine the meat crimes more :-\

Immediately takes charge with their OP charisma. General play vibes are like, pragmatic and not very sentimental, but does try to take care of their coterie.

Mostly fascinated with Gale, another powerful and ambitious mage with a connection to Netherese magic. Definitely encourages him to seek out his sorcerer side (he'll end up multiclassing Storm Sorcery) and, uh, the Crown but also with an eye to maybe? using it themself?

Wary about the Dream Visitor. Does not like having their mind fucked with. On the other hand, very open to using illithid powers, although by the time they get the astral-touched tadpole they're already too negative about the Emperor to agree.

Major decisions, act 1: We are straight-out skipping the druids/tiefling/goblin conflict! (Or, well, AFAIK you can't avoid the fight at the gate, but otherwise they're going to do that, trade with Arron, talk to whatshisname who had the run-in with the githyanki, then go "yeah this isn't my business" and leave.) Won't be recruiting Wyll, Karlach, or Halsin, and the tieflings are fucked, I'm sorry everyone ;_; Might end up entering the Goblin Camp just for more info on this True Soul/Absolute business, but staying steadfastedly Not Involved, then heading on to the Mountain Pass and the creche. Obviously that'll go poorly, although Sascha is still going to be like, yeah, the one in the Prism is shifty, sure, I'll kill them. So that'll put a dampener on any potential relationship!

Act 2: I am… actually not sure how to navigate the Shadow-Cursed Lands here, without getting the lyre from either Minthara or Nere, or attacking the convoy. Hm. Might just have to do a straight shot for Moonrise. AFAIK Minthara can be rescued here and Sascha is just "yeah fine why not". Largely skipping the Last Light, so no Jaheira, and, later, no Minsc, so final team will be Sascha, Gale, Astarion, Shadowheart, Lae'zel, and Minthara. Does the Gauntlet for Shadowheart's sake, but will encourage her not to kill their fellow aasimar, so at least someone is getting a good end XD;; Okay they don't seem to like many other aasimar so, uh, sorry Aylin. Otherwise, makes themself at home at Moonrise and wreaks havoc while they're not looking while in the process of Learning Everything. And, uh, the Shadow Curse is not getting lifted, although tbh I think that was a given since I'm pretty sure Halsin dies if you don't get involved with the Grove-Goblin conflict ;_;

Act 3: Learning about the Emperor - they fuckin' knew it -_- When they meet Raphael later, doesn't agree to the deal, but does plan to steal the hammer instead. They want that crown for their bae, okay.

Character arcs: Gale - go for the crown, babe, I'll hold your flower. Shadowheart - she's already turned from Shar, let's just complete the process. Encourages her to let her parents go. Okay maybe she will go Dark Justiciar :| Astarion - …tragically I think they'd encourage Ascension I'm so sorry Astarion bby. Sascha is just, "Get revenge! Fuckin' eat him!" Lae'zel - reject Vlaakith, free Orpheus - although that's in part to spite the Emperor tbh. Don't know what's happening with Minthara, I guess we'll find out!

Endgame: Once they have the stones, have Orpheus turn illithid. Ultimately, destroy the Netherbrain, then encourage Gale to get the crown and become a god. For the epilogue, become a god alongside him. This won't go badly at all!

On the plus side, if I'm doing God!Gale romance here, I might be able to skip one of the several Astarion runs I have planned, and just do the "they actually do make each other better this time" run?

[kalamitykas]

Rant about BG3

MASSIVE SPOILERS FOR BG3 COMPANION STORIES

So... I finished my first playthrough and I have.... OPINIONS.

I feel that there's a pattern between the character stories of the companions depending on if they are male or female. It's subtle but I feel it's there quite strongly.

DISCLAIMER: I haven't done the evil run, so I haven't gotten to know Minthara so I won't be talking about her.

The Men

With the exception of Astarion, it feels all the male characters are in their current situation out of their free will. Gale was a dumbass and decided he wanted more tha what Mystra was offering him and messed up. Wyll might have been deceived into the pact, but he confesses that he has never regretted it. Halsin is not responsible for the curse, he only feels that way because he was there when it happened. And all the mess that happens in the grove? He left his post in the middle of a complicated situation because he was curious.

And even Astarion! True, he was turned against his will and abused by Cazador, but he still is an evil bastard. He's selfish, mean, and hates any attempt of helping others while very demanding on helping him. I know you can change him, so in this particular rant, he's kind of middle ground.

The Difference

Each female character's issues and trauma was IMPOSSED on them. Shadowheart gets kidnapped and brainwashed as a child. Lae'zel grows in an abusive regime that also brainwashes her. And Karlach is traded to hell against her will as a teenager. They didn't had any autonomy in their stories.

And then we go into the endings. I'll admit, except Karlach, you get the option to give them kinda happy endings. For Shadowheart to have a happy ending, you have to "fix her". Undo years of brainwashing, potentially sacrificing her family, her friends who she'll never see again (Nocturne is too precious for this world). Lae'zel will be put either in charge of a massive civil war that will kill thousands of her people against a living godess, or be the second in command of said war (or you can convince her to abandon her people and stay in Faerun).

And then we get to Karlach. I cried myself to sleep over Karlach's endings. They were all messed up. Turn her into something else and she stops being herself, let her die, send her back to the place she hates and abused her. Even if you and Wyll go with her (and if you do this, and you had romanced someone else, you have to leave them behind), is still sending an abuse victim right back to where she was abused.

I feel like there's a bias here, or maybe is a coincidence, or maybe I'm too angry I couldn't make all my friends have a happy ending and instead my character was left without the love of her life, never seeing Lae'zel again and escorting her best friend into hell again. Is just so.... shite.

I did research, checking other possible endings I could have gotten, and they weren't much better... It just feels that Larian wrote the female companions to be "They are hot, and have a tragic backstory and you can FIX THEM and have fun", and then just made their endings fit that.

The male companions all get to achieve what they wanted. Gale can give Mystra the crown to get healed of his own fuck up. Wyll get's to become the Blade of Avernus and hunt down the deamons that wronged him. To be a hero with his relationship with his dad restored. Halsin gets to achieve his goal and cure the curse. Astarion get's to either be free of his abusive sire and become a better person, or destroy and supplant him. And all of them can still visit and see their friends.

On the other hand? Only Shadowheart gets this. Lae'zel either abandons her people, or leaves her friends behind to engage in a terrible war. And Karlach either sacrifices herself, or leaves her city and friends behind to spend the rest of her life battling in a place she hates.

Dunno, I was loving BG3, I'm still playing it, doing new campaign as Lae'zel to get to see her story from her perspective. But this kinda put a bitter taste in my mouth. I was super invested on these characters, and it felt like a sad ending. One thing I kept thinking about was, Shadowheart gets the "Divine Favour" once per game spell.... couldn't I just use that to cure Karlach? It feels like is something that on a tabletop session would have gotten so many options to have a nicer ending, one that left all the players happy.

Maybe I'm sad I didn't get to live in a sapphic colony with my friends at the end haha.

Anyway, thanks for coming to my TEdRant.

[aladaylessecondblog]

Mousetrap, pt 5

Author's Note: Holy sh*t this is almost 10,000 words. I didn't want to split it, then it just kept getting longer, and longer...

TW: Noncon/Extremely dubious consent, selfcest (Haarlep is involved), manipulation etc. Tav briefly considers letting Astarion drain her dry.

------------

"Auntie Ethel is always ready to take someone in need, but you, dearie...oh, you! What a mess you've made!"

Against a background of Cald's wailing, Tav raised her sword slowly.

"Three men have loved you and three men have died for you. Yet you hope...for what? Mark this--mark it well. There is no more vile sin than hope itself."

Tav ran Ethel through with the blade, but strangely the closer she moved the wider the hag's bloody grin became.

"Poison, dearie, that's what you are. Everything you touch withers and dies."

Tav withdrew the sword, and stood back, watching as Ethel bled out on the floor. To the last, the hag laughed.

Cald, who had been crying in the cage, quieted a little when Tav approached. He reached up for her when the door opened, and held tight as she picked him up.

"Hag scawy, mama! Said she EAT me!"

"No one is going to eat you, Cald. I killed the hag. She won't get to eat ANYONE anymore."

He cried a little while longer, but gradually calmed down after she handed him his toy Steel Watcher. She set him up with some food in the upper room, and disposed of Ethel's body. This house was as good as any other to live in--far enough from things to be out of the way, and close enough to be ready to go when things eventually kicked up again.

Tav had hoped at first that Enver would remember, but the days ticked by and hope began to drain away entirely.

She thought sometimes of going north to the Emerald Grove, but...something always stopped her. Whether Halsin would know her or not she wasn't sure. She was even LESS sure whether it would be more pleasing or painful if he DID. How could she ever explain the past to him? Yes, o Archdruid, I mated and fell in love with the worst man possible. He would hate her, surely.

No. No, much better to stay here.

She had her son, that was all she needed.

-----------------------------

The first time she'd encountered this woman, Tav hadn't been the one to fight her. The others had handled her, hadn't given time for much of anything.

As the woman's eyes (Minthara! Yes. That was the name) focused on hers, it was as if a cold hand were caressing Tav's brain. But then the cold hand turned sharp, and a vision surged forward. Following another drow, a child...when suddenly there came a monster, all beaks and hooks...there were swords, and then blood. Then the vision changed and she saw the same child--no, the woman before her, charging with a blade. There was a sense of pride as each blow was turned aside, when the sword point was at her own throat.

And then it was gone.

"A True Soul? Praise be, sister." There was something more of emotion in the last word than Tav expected.

Gale reached out to her with his own tadpole. Now?

No. Wait.

"You called me Zes'diira. Why?" Tav looked confused, and hoping she was convincing enough as she said, "I come of the Seldarine Drow, not of the Lloth-sworn."

Minthara snorted. "They WOULD fill your head with lies such as that. I am glad you have come, but things can be more fully explained later. The facts as they stand now are thus: you are no more a Seldarine drow than I am. None could tell you that fact better than your own sister."

"S-sister?" Tav stumble-yelped. "I have--had--"

Whirlwind.

The grove.

The clearing.

A weapon in her hand.

What am I? Who am I?

It was all too much at once, too many things to think on. The grove that had found her what seemed a lifetime ago said she was a Seldarine drow that had nearly fallen in battle against the Lloth-sworn. In fact the only survivor. She had been welcomed there, had made a home there, learned of nature's gifts there.

She dragged together the dregs of her will and reached out to Gale, Attack, but let the drow live. Knock her out.

The weight on her shoulders and in her chest grew heavier and more painful, but all she could think to do was obey that urge to mercy, whatever the consequences might be. That anyone remembered her was bad enough but the very idea that she had forgotten something too!

The group moved forward, and the goblin was eviscerated first. Minthara turned to her for aid and what struck Tav most, what would remain in her mind for some time afterward, was the voice that came a moment later.

We fight together, as we always have.

She couldn't raise a weapon against Minthara, so spent her limited time there healing the others as they worked. It was Karlach who finally dealt the knockout blow--

The body was still enough, but the turmoil in Tav's mind didn't stop. Sister. Sister, if Minthara wasn't lying, she had a SISTER.

The whirlwind rose again, and how long she stood there she wasn't sure, but it was a touch at her hand that brought her back to reality.

"Mama? Why did you say to spare her?"

"M-" Tav's mouth seemed suddenly too dry, her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, every sensation too much at once, "I--Ilmater commanded it."

He wanted to save me from becoming a kinslayer, she thought, heart beating wildly in her chest, Gods. Gods, all of this, I just want it to stop--

"But--" Orin was the one to speak up. "She was going to lead the attack against the Grove, wasn't she?"

"Ilmater demanded I show her mercy," she finally forced out. "The goblins may die, but she may not. Now let's GO."

She would answer no questions, not even from Cald. Not here, not now, not when so much had yet to be handled. One thing at a time, she told herself.

One thing at a time.

------------------------------

Tav practically sleptwalk through fighting the rest of the goblin camp. The other children she'd heard of there being she saw no trace of.

The spray of blood, the crunch of bone, the wails of pain, all passed her by without touching her once. She went through the motions automatically, not resting until it was all done, until fatigue was running through her every fiber. When camp was suggested she heartily agreed--Cald flew off in his raven form, saying he'd check on the Grove and see what state the ritual was in before they went to sleep. So someone could be sent with Halsin if the situation was more dire than before.

"Your son is a marvel," Halsin said to Tav, "Truly. He takes to the raven so well, one might almost think he was born one."

"He is not...like us. Not a druid, but a storm sorcerer." Tav replied in an unsteady voice. Halsin had chosen the one subject at the moment that could draw her out again. "I had an amulet that allowed transformation into a dire raven and...well. There are some days he doesn't want to change back at all."

"One need not be a druid to partake in nature's gifts. The Oak Father may choose those to bless who would use those gifts well--and the storm is as much a part of nature as any plant or animal."

Tav gave a slight smile and began to check in with the others. Busy, that was the important thing here, she MUST keep busy, must keep moving. Wounds were healed. A promise made to Karlach to have Dammon, in the grove, look at her infernal engine. Listen to more of Astarion's quips about helping the less fortunate and how it didn't benefit them at all. Shadowheart, who was working very hard not to look in the direction of the hyena. Wyll, who thanked her once again for saving him. The others were a bit of a blur.

She turned eventually to Orin, who was watching over the two goblin children. As she walked closer, she could hear snatches of words that Orin was speaking under her breath.

"No. No. I can't. It wouldn't be right. I can't. It's WRONG." A movement of the hand, the sound of a dagger piercing flesh--

"Orin," Tav said suddenly. She waited as the woman stood bolt upright and turned swiftly around.

"...Tav." Orin's face looked momentarily guilty, and she pulled the dagger from her arm. "I--"

"What happened?"

"I..." there was a deep breath. "You say I'm Bhaalspawn, and...I suppose this must be a natural result of that."

"What is?" Tav took a deep breath, and praying to Ilmater for the strength to show mercy, reached up to heal the wound on Orin's arm. "You felt the urge to do violence, didn't you?"

"The goblin children...yes." There was a look back, and then forward at Tav again. "Rip and tear and maim and bloody. Smash the brain, drink the blood...that was all I could think for a moment. But...I find pain...well...exciting. So if blood must be shed, I...mutilate myself. I always heal, and the urge is satisfied."

Who is this woman who looks exactly like Orin the Red?

As the wound closed, another sentence, softer and more fearful, came up.

"Was I like this? Before?"

"That and worse," Tav said quietly. "You were pleased to serve Bhaal. Pleased to shed blood in whatever way you could. Even if it was your own."

She looked away.

"Who did I take from you?"

A deep breath.

"Two men that I loved...and later, my husband."

"I'm...I'm sorry." Orin looked back. "I know that's not worth anything."

"Keep a watch on yourself, and don't kill needlessly if you can avoid it. There are ways to satisfy the urge for violence. You'll have plenty in the battles to come." Tav felt hollow, incredibly hollow. And yet she knew somehow that Ilmater was pleased with what she was doing. "But do not hurt children, and do not hurt yourself. If need be, we can...tie you up."

Orin just nodded.

Tav went to get Lae'zel, and brought her over to the goblin children.

"What use do you think they could be to us?"

"We can always use someone to clean and carry. No touching of weapons--we must not risk their cutting our throats as we sleep."

"Maybe I could keep an eye on them?" Orin asked. "When the githyanki is...busy. Or sleeping."

"That sounds acceptable. I'm hoping we can at least stop them trying to assault bears with rocks...any animals, really."

"One sight of Halsin should fix that problem," Gale called from nearby.

That seemed to make Orin laugh. "He could squash them flat without a second thought."

The children began to wake. Tav watched carefully as they stuck close to each other. "Ey, what'd you do? Where are we?"

"You're in my camp," Tav said, in the sternest voice she could manage. "And we could have killed you but we didn't. I'm a cleric of Ilmater and we save children if it is at all possible. But my friend here is a githyanki, and will not hesitate to punish you if you try to harm anyone. Understand?"

"Yeah," both of them agreed.

"Now, what are your names?"

"I'm One!"

"And I'm Three!"

"Those are numbers," Tav said, "Not names."

"Well, the bosses says you have to survive a battle to get a name. A lot of us don' make it," One said.

"I'm not going to send you into battle. And I'm not going to hurt you unless you hurt someone else first. Things are going to be different here. What do you like doing? Besides hurting bears--which you aren't to do again either."

"Well...I like fighting," Three said, "I club things! And they smash and squish!"

"And I like hunting things. Well. I have to make my aim better before I can go on a REAL hunt. But!"

"Your name is Mal," Tav said to One, "In the drow language it means mystery. We don't know what you're going to be good at yet. And you, Three...let me see here..."

She thought. Her handle on the drow language had lapsed a bit, but...it was still there.

"Three, your name is Myr," she finally said, "It means skeleton. Or skull. Since you like smashing things that's the best I could think of that wasn't bloody or too long."

"So what now?"

"Now, you help clean the blood from our armor," Lae'zel said.

"Don't be overly cruel," Tav said, as the gith lead Mal and Myr away. "I don't want them beaten if it can be avoided."

"Ch'k. You are too soft on the children. Far too soft."

Not long after that, Cald returned. The raven dropped into the middle of camp and he turned back, eyes wide. "They're almost done, I heard them say it! You need to stop them!"

"Halsin! Wyll! Karlach!" Tav called out, "Grove, NOW! Cald, you can come with us--but you have to stay in raven form."

(She would not chance even a hair on his head being touched. If that happened --)

Tired as she was she was relieved to have something else to turn her attention to. Busy, busy, busy, that was the key. If she stopped moving she would fall, and she couldn't fall, not with so much on the line.

----------------------------------

On entering the Grove, Tav gave Karlach the piece of infernal iron she had been carrying for months now, and directed her to see Dammon. Wyll stayed with her, and seemed to smile, but what followed after was anything but cheerful.

They had to confront Kagha.

"You took it upon yourself," Halsin spat, "To undertake the Rite of Thorns? To spill blood in this sacred place?!"

"The child lived--"

"It would've been easier if you just DIED, Kagha. Now I have to hear your excuses instead."

"An error most grave, Master. I beg your grace--"

"Grace is bestowed by nature. Not me. I was going to show leniency...but Kagha..." Halsin's tone shifted again, sounding now more pained, "A child was dead because of you. Revived or not, you are responsible for her end. An end that should never have come at all."

"It was an accident. She stole the idol--" Kagha raced ahead, "--we were overzealous, yes, but..."

"There is no WE. You were the driving force behind this madness. Now it STOPS. As for the idol...it's nothing compared to a life! A mere object next to one of nature's creations! I cannot absolve you, even if you are repentant. Nature will determine your fate. Whatever happens to you next...know that it is the Oak Father's will. Now get out of my sight! There is nothing more to be said."

Kagha retreated quickly...and Halsin turned to Tav.

"I thank you for what you did for the child. You understood the need to choose life over an object better than Kagha ever did."

"I...I did only what I thought was right. It was...a little selfish, too, not entirely altruistic. All I could think seeing her there was that it could just as easily have been my son, and...and I couldn't let her die."

A knot formed in her gut, a lump in her throat.

No, no, no, you can't cry here, you can't cry at all. Not in front of all of them!

Tav swallowed once, and then twice. She could almost see it before her--Cald, under a Bhaalist's blade, or taken by the shadow curse.

Keep it together. KEEP IT TOGETHER.

"We," she said, after taking a sip from her canteen with shaking hands, "Should tell everyone that the situation with the goblins is resolved."

Halsin seemed unconvinced that she was well, but given his return there was much discussion that needed to be had. So he suggested they return to camp to sleep through things. He would go back to the Grove tonight to more thoroughly tell both the druids and the tieflings that all was now well.

Or as well as it could get, anyway.

(Cald, not so eager to go right back to camp, begged to stay in the Grove for the night. Halsin promised to see he came to no harm, and despite the fear that ran through Tav--telling her that something could happen to him, she allowed it.)

-----------------------------------

As Tav entered the Grove the next morning, Karlach appeared out of nowhere and rushed directly at her--wrapped her in a tight hug.

Tav stiffened, and for a moment was afraid--

"I never thought I'd touch anyone again," she said, when she stepped back, "I'm sorry, I probably crushed you a bit, didn't I?"

"I...it's fine, just..." Tav gave a weak laugh, "I can see Dammon's modifications worked. You're alright?"

"As...alright as I can be." Karlach's enthusiasm drained a bit. "But it's just so good to be able to TOUCH people again! To touch ANYTHING again!"

"You should enjoy it," she replied, "There'll probably be a party later...so I'm sure you'll find someone to celebrate with."

"Well, if you'd like that person to be you--"

"You could do better," Tav replied, suddenly unsteady, "It's not that--I mean I--"

"Ah no, I know you're not really into women, it's fine. I'm sure you'd much rather have Astarion...or the bear, maybe."

That gave Tav pause and she looked up--suddenly worried that Karlach DID remember, and that everything was just some sort of ruse.

"I never said I was only into men it just...and what makes you think that? About Astarion and Halsin?"

She was incredibly glad that Karlach laughed then. "Your mind's practically an open book. Gale mentioned he's seen you watch them."

What if it's Gale, and HE'S faking not remembering?

"I'll...I'll work better on keeping it closed, then. They're good looking, who wouldn't watch them? I'm sorry, I need to go find Cald."

She found the boy perched near the idol of Silvanus, poking at a coin in the dirt.

"Cald." She gave him a smile as he changed back. "Did you enjoy yourself?"

He nodded, and gave her a grin. "There's a lot of birds here too and one of them gave me this coin in exchange for a chunk of fool's gold I had."

"You told him it wasn't real gold, right?"

"He said he didn't care. He wanted something shinier and the fool's gold was shinier than his coin."

"And what about the others? Archdruid Halsin, perhaps, was he nice?"

"Yeah...oh! Guess what! That mean one he yelled at last night--someone killed her!"

"Oh--really?" Tav asked. The last time she'd done this, she'd found the Shadow Druid note and had fought Kagha herself. This was entirely unexpected.

"The girl you saved--her parents poisoned Kagha at breakfast. They eat earlier than we do. But I saw. And when I asked Mister Halsin if he was going to do anything about it he said what he said yesterday. That it was the Oak Father's will. But then I asked how that could be if someone else did it. And he smiled and said the Oak Father chooses his instruments."

He went on and on about it, and then about Wyll, who had stayed in the Grove overnight also. Wyll had shown him, and a couple of the tiefling children, a few things about the sword and how to fight with it.

"I said I didn't use a sword and he said everyone should know how to wield a blade at least passably because it can be the difference between gutting the monster versus it gutting you."

"That is true. You have your sparks and your crossbow, yes, but you can't always use both. A blade is a good thing to know how to wield, regardless of if you plan to use it. Having a backup plan is always good for a magic user."

His smiles were beautiful, his enthusiasm, contagious. She sat and listened further, watched as Cald picked up a stick and showed her what Wyll had shown him. For a moment she wondered what would have been different had they not had to come back - likely as not, there wouldn't be much blade training. He'd probably be making his own Steel Watcher at this point, smaller, more mobile maybe.

Enver, I wish you could see this.

"And wouldn't it be funny," she said, "If someone thought they had you stuck and you turned a blade on them? You're small - they'll underestimate you, and that can help you too."

"But I'm too little for a big sword or an axe like Karlach has," Cald said. "I think I'd like to carry one of those. Oh, you think I'm a dainty little magic user? HERE'S MY AX!"

He swung the stick down to the ground, and it broke it half.

She laughed. "Exactly. Exactly that. I can at least find you a smaller ax if you want one. I'm sure they've got one around here somewhere. The only one I've got is for firewood--and you can fight with that but it's not really ideal for it. Fighting axes are just a bit different."

In a similar vein did she speak to him a while longer, before he ran off to speak to one of the tiefling children. She'd warned him they were the troublemaking sort, not bad, but mischievous, and he'd said he'd be fine, he didn't carry gold anyway.

It hurt to watch him go, as it hurt to go when he wanted to stay the night. When, Tav wondered, had he started to grow so much? Maybe she'd just missed it while she was worrying over his safety all this time. She wished she never had to worry about him again, but that was one of the certainties--there would never be a day where she stopped worrying about him. That, she remembered Berlina saying, was the thing about being a mother.

There would never be a day where she did not think of him. No matter how big he grew.

As the day passed she discovered that the tieflings had decided a party was in order, and offered the campsite as its location. It would be better, she told them, to have it there rather than in the Grove, considering all that had happened. And the druids likely weren't accustomed to the sort of fuss that could result from a party anyway.

She walked back into camp a bit late, and was almost immediately approached by Zevlor. "I hope you'll pardon them. They...meant to wait for you. But it's been some time since they had cause to celebrate. I'm glad to see they haven't forgotten how. Will you join them?"

"We could all use a night off," Tav gave a slight smile.

"I suppose we could, at that. I came out here to think, plan our next steps. But you're right. The road will still be there in the morning. Come, then."

She followed him further into camp.

"I hope you'll forgive the pageantry. A custom we developed in Avernus. The sky there is utterly black...we took to filling it with stars of our own. To think of better nights...and brighter places."

"I've been to Avernus a few times," Tav said very quietly, "Strange that I never thought to do that myself. It was...a hopeless place."

"Perhaps take this custom yourself then." Zevlor gestured. "A light...for every life you've saved."

That was something to smile about, however briefly. She thought of the group before, the first go round. Shadowheart, Lae'zel, Astarion...the rest of them. The tiefling refugees...

How bright your sky would be.

"Now, we've imposed on you enough. Let's have some music!"

"Oh--" Tav remembered suddenly, "Before you go...what were you planning to do? Go to Baldur's Gate?"

"That seems the best course, yes," Zevlor replied. "Though the route--"

"Well...just in case," she said, "In case you have to take a route through the shadow cursed lands. Before you leave, come to me and I'll enchant your boots or your gloves, your sword, anything--with Daylight. It will vastly help your trip, and keep your hands free for actual weapons."

"That is very kind of you. As if you haven't done enough for us already. I just wish there were some way we could thank you."

"Return the favor to someone else if you wish to thank me." she gave another small smile.

Zevlor assured her that he would, and went off to speak to one of the others.

She nodded, and looked around. Drinking, laughter, even a couple people dancing. It was...good to see again, even with the change since the last time. And knowing it would be best if she pretended all was well, she stopped first to talk to Astarion, since he was closest.

"Perhaps you can contribute a bottle or two from your stash," Astarion quipped. "Not that I will drink it, but I'm sure the tieflings would appreciate the burn."

"My stash?"

"The Rotgut Red, don't think I can see those bottles and not know what they are."

"Those bottles--" Tav searched her mind for something, anything, to explain, but ended up going with, "Stay out of my bags. Those're my private store and I don't share."

"Darling, it's Rotgut Red. You really must broaden your horizons...expand your taste...actually get some taste, maybe."

She wanted to be gracious. Really, she did. But given everything, all the weight on her shoulders, all the--just KNOWING what lay ahead and all she had to do to secure it--everything had her in a state of heightened sensitivity.

"We can't all be snobbish about taste like you are. And it was my husband's favorite anyway."

"You poor thing, tasting that every day..." He took a sip from the bottle in his hand, winced, and once he swallowed, said, "You know, I never pictured myself as a hero. Never thought I'd be the one they'd toast for saving so many lives. And now that I'm here..."

"You hate it."

"Am I so obvious?" There was the slightest huff. "We killed some goblins to save some tieflings. The tally of lives didn't change much. But what do I get for all my hard work? A pat on the head, and vinegar for wine. ...all I want is a little fun. Is that so much to ask?"

"I'm sure you could find someone here up for that," Tav replied, "Karlach would be more than ready for it, as touch-starved as she's been. Lae'zel might be a bit too rough...Shadowheart...eh...but not me, of course."

"And why not?"

You could do a lot better, that's why, she thought. But after a pause she actually spoke.

"It's...it doesn't matter. I'm sure you feel the same way."

It's better this way. It's better this way. He doesn't remember, and he never will.

"Well...you're right. Us - can you imagine?" Astarion laughed. "Urgh. No."

The fact that Tav thought it better this way did not stop the lump forming in her throat, or the returning weight in her chest. Astarion's words hit her almost like a physical blow. Ten years, and the old feelings were being dredged up - and stomped on.

But he didn't know about the past, it wasn't reasonable to expect him to take her into consideration at all. She gave a shrug, and voiced the words still running in her head. "You could do better. Perhaps not worse, but..."

"I could always seek out that Bhaalspawn. She could be worse. Maybe she'd cut my throat in the throes of passion..."

"There are...better uses for a neck, I'm sure." Having lost her taste for further conversation, at least with him, Tav bid Astarion farewell and moved on.

Lae'zel was next.

After a slight scolding on sparing Minthara, and a discussion of the tactics employed, the githyanki said, "I have seen the kith'raki tear a screaming neogi's legs from its belly to fashion into blades. Yet they could not match your nerve today. It was enough to drive me to madness. I smell their blood on you still. I smell your sweat."

This had happened before, Tav recalled it almost instantly. But she recalled the last time she'd agreed to bed Astarion, so all that had come next was a frustration that she'd already promised her body to him.

"I mean to taste it."

Tav swallowed. Something of the intensity of that stare called her back--

Run, little mouse! RUN!

She stumbled back.

"I'm--afraid I--" she took in a sharp breath, "It is not that I don't find you attractive, it's merely...I don't prefer rigorous...the sort of night I imagine you have planned."

There was a pause, and then Lae'zel replied. "I respect your error. There are, after all, other spreads before me...I will not go long without pleasure."

Tav moved off quickly, trying to calm her racing heart. There was no reason for her to assume Lae'zel would--but just the way she had looked, merely LOOKED. That fierce eagerness. Why should it do what it had done to her mind?

Then came Gale.

"A lovely night, isn't it?" she began, "It seems everyone is having a good time. Necessary, after all that's happened."

"Of course." Gale's smile came easily, "And then there's you, the architect of it all...yet I see no mirth on your face and no bottle in your hand. Nor a companion on your arm."

"I have a child, I can't go and get sloshed like the rest of you can," Tav replied. "As for company..."

She shook her head.

"It's not necessary to have some to enjoy myself."

"Yet here you are. You know - you're the first person I've spent any significant time with in a year or more. Spending time in your company, I realise that I may have left behind the greater part of my wit, and sensitivity, in my tower."

"You're doing just fine, Gale," Tav said. "You're always quick with mentions of the Weave, sure, but...jokes, too. There's been no lack of wit, in my opinion."

She couldn't remember speaking to him the last time this happened. It was nice, to see him at ease. It seemed to be something he always had trouble with.

"I'm glad. To know you enjoy my company is, well, it's rather wonderful actually. I'd be loathe to waste the time of someone who's become rather important to me."

"You've known me a day. How could I be so important?"

"Says the woman who directed us all through that mess in both the Goblin Camp and the Grove. Says the woman, who has spared two goblin children who are even now being taught to play tag...and pick locks, but those little rascals from the Grove tend to that. Says the woman, might I add, who is willing to keep company with a Bhaalspawn. I think you need to realize that you mean more to this group than you might think. Like a bright ray of sunshine, warming all in her light. You know--I haven't thanked you for seeking me out. Amid all this merriment I wasn't sure we'd have a chance to speak this evening. I wasn't sure we'd have a chance to make merry, just the two of us."

"I think you've had too much to drink," Tav replied, "Please, have a seat before you consume any more. It's not that I don't find you attractive...it's just..."

"If it is additional sons you are worried about, there would be no need for it. Of course, as a wizard, there are other things I could do to...liven up the evening. Things that do not risk consequences on the road ahead."

"No, no, it's just...I...I don't want to--"

"Ah! You have taken a vow of chastity, perhaps?"

"No. No, I...please, I've got to speak to the others. I thank you for the interest, but...you're inebriated. It'd be taking advantage of you to do anything more than shake your hand at the moment."

She made further polite excuses, and moved off to see Halsin. HE at least would have no interest in sex, at least not at this juncture. Better to speak to him. The rest...well, perhaps they'd not have interest but she didn't want to know if they did.

But before Tav could get there, she ran into Wyll, who seemed quick to go, "There she is! The woman herself. Let us raise a glass! To freedom from tyranny! May we hew a clear path for the downtrodden to travel! To you - a legend in the making."

He smiled brightly; it was a smile she could not help but return. Perhaps the only genuine one she felt capable of making.

To you, she thought, Who never judged me for all that I did.

"And to the Blade. Another wrong righted, another page written."

"Hear, hear," she said, "Though I've no glass to raise. I'm...glad to see that you were able to see what I meant regarding Karlach. Even if you suffered for it."

"Yes...well...some were not best pleased with that mercy. I'm only lucky it didn't result in worse. But now I've several things to explain...the tail, for example. I've tried keeping it tucked away but that's been incredibly awkward."

"I'm sure you'll figure it out. It's...not easy being beholden to...outside forces, and even more difficult when you've angered them. But you seem to be rolling with the punches, so to speak."

"You have a patron?"

"Of...a sort. Though I do not gain all that you do in exchange for my service." She took a deep breath and then knowing she'd said too much, decided it was best to leave as quickly as possible. "Well...I hope you enjoy the rest of the evening."

Finally, she was able to make her way to Halsin, As she approached he shut his eyes, seemed to take a deep, slow inhale--and for just a moment when his eyes opened again they were rimmed with gold. But when he spoke, it was all she hoped and feared.

"Don't waste a night like this talking to me. We'll discuss your problem tomorrow."

"I thought you might care to have a drink," Tav said quietly. "You've stood in this little corner of camp just watching the crowd...are you unaware where they've put the wine?"

"Oh, no. In truth, I rarely imbibe. The stuff goes right to my head. Before you know it, I'd be breaking into song or declaring love to the first person I laid eyes on."

"I fail to see the problem. Many people behave like that when drinking."

"Then you have never heard me singing. Which makes you very fortunate."

For a few more moments Tav was silent, keeping her eyes on Halsin's. When his expression shifted to one that looked like pity, she turned and left.

Time in nature. Wasn't that what he'd say? He would being outside and under the stars again, or...something like that. Perhaps, she thought, that would be a good idea. Some solitude in nature for a little while. With so many hero sorts about, Cald would be safe for a little while. As he had been when she let him stay in the Grove.

Walking away from the din of the party, however, did the opposite of lifting her spirits.

None of them remember me. Not a one.

She would be doing this all alone...well, not alone, but having knowledge of what lay ahead felt like walking a tightrope. She knew how to go a certain way, and knowing had certain benefits. But...but it was also a weight, and every change made things feel heavier.

At last, Tav was far enough away that the party could barely be heard. She stood with a hand to the large oak before her, and shut her eyes.

Silvanus preserve me through the trials that lay ahead, and let me save what of your creations I am able to. Ilmater, please, help me to endure the weight, and to take on the burdens of the others, when it becomes too much for them to bear.

Just slightly better, that was all she asked for. A little lightening of the load on her heart - and it came. For a moment she felt better, less bogged down by all that was happening. Really, all was going well, there was no need to worry. Undoubtedly she'd see Minthara later. She would see her son safely through to the end of this journey. She would help all of her friends, and then once it was all over --

The snap of a twig. A slight breeze, that brought in her direction the scent of cherries.

Tav took in a sharp breath and turned quickly around to see--Raphael.

"Waiting for someone, little mouse?"

"No," she replied evenly, dropping immediately into a deferential tone, "The party was a bit too...enthusiastic, and I felt the need for solitude."

There was a moment of silence, but when she lowered her head, he spoke again. "Eyes up."

Her head obeyed automatically, and moved back up. At any point before this would have made her angry, resentful, fearful...any number of things. Now? There was nothing but a void.

"I do hate to see you in such a poor mood," he went on, almost as if reading her mind, "Really, what has you in such a state?"

"Everything," Tav replied in a dispirited tone. She answered honestly, sure that he would demand it anyway, "I have prior knowledge of what lies ahead, and so I've got to guide all of them towards the right end. Orin is here, head cleared of what she was before and yet still--and the rest of the party. Then there's the drow...I had hoped that one of the others would be the one to remember the past, but..."

She gulped slightly. Hope. What a poison to take. So long she'd swallowed it, and so long it had done nothing but make her miserable.

Perhaps it was finally time to face facts and admit that there was no happy ending for her. To hope for one was folly.

Raphael said nothing, though she expected a number of things. An offer to induce remembrance of the past in exchange for more time on her debt, or prompting on the tadpole and another demand for the Crown of Karsus.

But it didn't happen. He extended his hand in silence, and she took it, allowed herself to be lead.

It took only a few steps for the cool night forest around them to morph into the opulence of the House of Hope. Specifically, the initial room, the one she remembered visiting on her first time there. When she'd come there with the others...

Why not straight to the boudoir? Usually he doesn't wish to wait.

Tav glanced briefly at the soul pillars, wondering--if she was fool enough to try rebellion, would her soul end up in one? Probably. As they passed into the feasting room, and then the corridor, she tried not to look at the debtors. Tried to be thankful she was not any of them. They all seemed to look at her, some with confusion, some with pity, some with indifference.

She decided not to wonder what he was doing, leading her like this. It wouldn't be helpful, and there was no cause to deliberate on things that would further darken her mood.

Finally, they came to the boudoir barrier. The voyeur debtor moved aside, the barrier fell, and Raphael walked through it with Tav.

Wounded doe or wanton harlot? Which does he want from me?

"Haarlep!" he called out.

The incubus looked up from the bed, and sat up as they approached.

"Ah, master, once more you bring us our treat."

A snap of his fingers, and Tav was bare before them.

"I've got sixteen minutes, but you can have five of them. I've got to finish up one last contract's wording and until I return she's all yours. But--and I warn you--your cock will not touch her below her waist even once. Do we understand each other?"

"Perfectly, master." Haarlep's grin widened when, as he drew close, Tav's hand was placed in his own. The instant Raphael turned away he was leading her toward the bed.

"Such a pity we won't have more time together, mouse," Haarlep said airily, before leaning down and taking a slow, deep breath with his face buried in her neck. "But you would be surprised what I can do with five minutes. More than our master, which I am sure you are glad of."

"He can do plenty in five minutes."

A single kiss, a twist of their tongue. The tingle that came with tasting his spit, and then the bloom of heat in her belly.

"That's the problem. Now..." They moved onto the bed, lay back, and freed their cock from beneath the leather lingerie. "That tongue of yours is a gift, mouse. Now be very good and use that gift on me."

She didn't respond, merely obeyed. She climbed onto the bed, crawled forward, and lowered her head to lick a stripe from the base of their cock to the tip. Then at a touch from Haarlep on the back of her head she began to repeat the movement. When pre began to bead on the tip she moved her head down to actually take him into her mouth.

"The master...oh, yes...the master must want you well prepared, to give such an order as he did. Normally he doesn't mind...but, well...mmm, I can see why, tonight..."

Tav began to bob her head, and not soon after felt the slight clench as Haarlep's fingers twisted in and then tightened in her hair. The bloom turned into a blaze, but she kept moving, eager to chase the more pleasant void that came with pleasing the incubus. Every other pull back she sucked on the tip, and from the tenseness in their thighs the enjoyment was obvious.

"Oh yes, mouse..." There was a buck, and their cock breached her throat. "I can see so very, very well why the master sought this from you so often. Such a pity you haven't been allowed to do this for me more often. Now...faster. I want you to do for me what you do for him - show me why he finishes so quickly."

The compulsion to obey propelled her forward. She pulled back to stroke at their cock with one hand, while her tongue caressed the underside of its head. She moved forward a moment later, taking it deep, taking it all, and then drawing back only to come forward once more. Never did it leave her mouth completely after this, but still there was room for her to stroke.

"Oh, very good, mouse, very good indeed...keep that up, and your time with the master will be..."

Once more, they bucked. When it happened a second time she still attempted to keep moving. But then Haarlep pushed her head back, and moved up and onto their knees. Then Tav found her head shoved back down--and went slack as they began to ride against her face.

"We have to be certain, mouse, oh...oh yes, we do. We have to be certain you will be ready to take Raphael, and I know no better way...than to...give you a good dose of..."

A groan, a pulse of their cock, and then Tav's mouth was filled with Haarlep's seed. There was no other choice but to swallow--once, twice, a third time. Her throat and belly warmed, and she pulled back, breathing hard and feeling desire strike hard.

"Please--" she begged, knowing Haarlep wanted to hear it just as badly as Raphael did. A deep breath, a closure of her eyes--and when she opened them again she was staring at her own face.

"If you thought you enjoyed yourself before..." There was a smirk, and then a push at the back of her head. "We have two minutes. Let me see if you're as practiced with a woman's body as you are with a man's."

"I wouldn't say so, it's been a long while since I did, so--"

Tav's face was mashed against Haarlep's--her own--thigh. "Try anyway, mouse. I promise you'll enjoy it."

She took a deep breath, and reached up, pressing one finger gingerly against the clit before her, then dragging it down. She stiffened when she felt it, and encouraged by the feeling, took a deep breath and moved it lower.

"Inside. Now."

She pressed the finger forward, and couldn't stop the moan that passed her lips. She felt that finger, and obeyed quickly when Haarlep requested a second and third.

"That's it, mouse, that's it...now use your tongue, and watch as your world catches fire." Haarlep moaned out in Tav's own voice, and then again an octave higher when their request was obeyed, "Once you try this, you won't want anything else."

The void in her mind had gone from pain to pleasure, and the discomfort at all this was finally, finally fading. She was disappearing once more behind the mask, behind the identity of that other Tav, the one who actually wanted this to be happening.

She could feel her tongue sweeping over that sensitive little bud, every little sensation as she moved it.

"Oh, I doubt that..."

Raphael's voice sounded off somewhere behind. Tav didn't look up, and continued, soaking in the sensation of forgetting all the pain outside the boudoir.

"Oh, master, you promised five minutes! Just like you to--"

A weight at the end of the bed, and an echo of the fear-pain Tav would have felt echoed in her chest. Her mind was not afraid, but her body remembered it was.

"I wish you hadn't said that, Haarlep. Now you're forcing me to order you back."

A clawed hand at Tav's hip, and a press at one of her shoulders to force her down further once Haarlep had moved back.

"By all means, please yourself. But she won't be servicing you further."

"A pity, she serves so well!" Haarlep's reply was bright as their knees moved up, spread, and one of their hands came down to stroke and then to thrust--

A moan was forced past Tav's lips as the sensation of full washed over her--and then a deeper one followed when Raphael, perhaps tired of waiting, gave a thrust of his own. Tav was almost grateful for the limpness of mind she was under. There was no room for fear, no anxiety, nothing but the voice behind her and the action it demanded from her. The almost-painful stretch the cock caused with every movement.

It was like it wasn't even her body any longer (and really, a shadowed part of her said, wasn't that the truth in earnest?). It was a thing to be directed for Raphael's pleasure, and nothing more.

Tav's awareness faded in and out. One moment she was down, her face pressed into the sheets, the next she would blink and find herself up, back pressed to Raphael's chest, one of his clawed hands at her hip and the other wrapped around her to grip at the opposite shoulder. Then the cycle would repeat, as the pleasure went from infrequent and vague to constant and sharp.

"...for your master, mouse..."

"...ready. Go on, do it..."

Tav blinked again, and Haarlep was themself again, looking her in the eye as the pleasure burned into ecstasy and rose higher. Their lips pressed to hers and their tongue pushed eagerly into her mouth.

Too much--far too much, and her body could do nothing but take it. The ecstasy plateaued and then leaped over the edge, and her voice raised up in a yelp of pure pleasure as she was broken on the climax below.

How many times it happened, she wasn't entirely sure. But the pleasure fell back and rose and went through several periods of being too much...yet it kept coming back. Several times she felt an influx of heat--from Raphael, probably--and yet he kept moving.

Another orgasm, and another. There was the vague wonder if they hadn't gone over the remaining time, but the thought passed on quickly with a final grunt and pulse from behind her, a final flood of warmth in her belly.

Tav groaned slightly when Raphael finally withdrew, and all but collapsed onto the sheets below.

Suddenly, she was herself again. She took a deep, shaky breath and tried to push herself up, but her knees wouldn't cooperate.

"What a wonderful way to spend the rest of your time," Haarlep was practically purring, "Wouldn't you agree?"

"Come now, mouse, answer." Raphael spoke, but her body failed to obey as it usually did.

The time was paid off.

It was over.

She curled inward, shaking, and merely nodded in reply. Back in her head meant back with those thoughts, alone and with memories that no one else shared.

"Perhaps go and have a bath, Haarlep," Raphael's voice, a bit gentler now, was silent until the incubus obeyed. "Your time is up, o apple of my eye. You are free to go."

Nothing.

She was still breathing, her heart was still beating, but Tav had never felt more dead. As if her mind was gone but her heart hadn't known enough to stop and had been left behind to beat uselessly.

I am a corpse, she thought, A zombie whose body refuses to let go.

The feeling of floating away came then, as if her soul were sizzling and leaving her in tiny tendrils, little by little.

The pinprick of claws moved to her side, then turned her over and onto her back. She looked blankly up at the tiling on the ceiling, ignoring the almost tender touch at her face.

There was the feeling, then, of a presence in her mind. She didn't attempt to fight, especially since as it moved the void that threatened to swallow her began to recede. As if she had been drowning, and at the last moment it...no, he, had brought her back up, and breathed life into her again.

Tav felt her mind beginning to clear, but along with that clarity came the fresh grief. Without the numbness it was sharp and pained her at every turn.

No one remembers you but the boy. Not Astarion, not Halsin, not the man you once called your husband. You have been forgotten, and if you never returned, they would all go on very happily without you. This...THIS, it is all you are truly good for.

"Up, mouse," Raphael said, and this time he pulled her up and into a sitting position, "Unless you would prefer to stay here."

She didn't answer for a moment but after a long pause, she shifted about to face him. With glazed eyes and shaking voice she asked, "How much?"

Not the Crown, she could not do that.

But this...

This...

"For what, mouse?"

Why did Raphael have to sound so gentle? Why could he not sound like the bastard he had been all this time?

She could almost hear the moment of realization, the wheels turning in his head.

"Oh. You mean to give me a name. Gortash, I imagine."

"No," Tav shook her head quickly, "No, not him."

"And why not? I thought he would be the first thing you'd want."

His wings curved forward, around her, drawing her closer.

Tav didn't have to answer, but she did anyway.

"He won't want me, even if you make him remember. Not after...after..."

"Not after I've had a bite of you, you mean."

She felt his hand under her chin, then lifting it so she had to meet his eyes.

"Who, then?"

"How much?" Tav would not go further without knowing the price, even as low as she felt.

"Fifteen minutes," his tone went on, easily, "But that applies only to deals made tonight. Come to me again with the same request and the period of time will double. And then again, later. Tonight, however, fifteen minutes is all I will ask per name. Give me two, and I might be persuaded to fix Karlach's infernal engine as well."

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You never do anything out of kindness like that. Why would you--?"

"Because," Raphael leaned closer, and bit at her neck but didn't break the skin, "I desire your company. Hence - any time you incur tonight by giving me names must be served tonight."

"Two names...Karlach fixed?" she asked, "And it will only cost me half an hour?"

"But you must pay it off tonight." There it was, the sharp insistence she knew him for. Another bite, this one breaking the skin and yielding blood he lapped up in a hurry.

Tonight, tonight, tonight. He'd said it twice now, and for the life of her she could not figure out why he was insisting on it so much.

But...

"I want to read the contract before I sign anything," she replied.

"Smart mouse, you're learning." Raphael snapped his fingers, and beside them the contract appeared. A single page, neatly written. She scanned it for any sign of 'magical artifact' or 'Crown of Karsus' or any mentions of crowns in general.

Nothing.

"Towards the bottom you will find the terms detailing any future deals we might make. Of this sort, anyway," Raphael replied. "This will enable us to make verbal agreements...and thus make the process a bit faster for you."

So compliant. So genial. So false.

She looked in the direction of the clauses he gestured vaguely at, while all but pulling her into his lap, straddling him.

...signee is not prevented from making further arrangements until achievement of successful ins....

Hands on her hips, and a grind over his hardening cock.

"Come now, mouse. Give me the names, and you won't have to share me with Haarlep."

"You didn't give me a pen," Tav's voice broke, "So I can't give you the names. I won't serve you without securing that first."

Raphael snapped his fingers again, and a pen appeared. After another quick read through of the contract to be sure there was no mention of the Crown of Karsus or the Orphic Hammer, or something banning her from coming back to the House of Hope later on (she wanted to be sure, SURE, that re-enacting the past wasn't totally fucked in that regard), she sighed.

And signed. It disappeared the moment she signed it.

Raphael put her on her back, spread her legs, and whispered tenderly in her ear, "The names, Tav."

"Wyll," she half-sobbed.

"Why him? Answer."

"He never judged me," she took a shaky breath, and tensed as Raphael's fangs broke the skin of her neck once again. After a few moments of relative silence, where he swept every drop of blood up with his tongue, he asked another question.

"And the other name? Be sure to tell me why, my dear."

"Halsin," Tav trembled as she felt the slick ridge of his cock against her thigh. "Because if there is anyone's help I could use on this journey, it's someone who's got experience with the shadow curse, and..."

He had won. She'd known he would win, even when she didn't want to admit it to herself. The only thing she was in control of was the degree to which Raphael was winning.

"Oh yes, I'm sure it's his experience you crave...but it shall be so, my dear. When the morning comes the bear and the dukeling will remember you."

"You're insatiable," she accused quietly, and gasped when he thrust forward once again.

"Only for you, little mouse. Only for you."

Once he was done, he would bring her back to the tree he'd picked her up from, with a devil-faced brooch in her pocket.

"Touch it and speak my name," he whispered sinfully in her ear, "And I will come to you, no matter where you are."

Then he was gone.

---------------------------------

Hours later, a sore Tav would wake from her trance to find Astarion kneeling over her.

"I wondered when you would try this," she said quietly. She shifted about, and shivered in the coolness of the night air. But then she lay back again, and turned her head. "Go on, bite."

Astarion gave his short explanation and then asked, "You...knew what I was?"

"I've seen you in Baldur's Gate," Tav lied, "Seen your fangs. Seen you not eat with the others. And...heard about you from one of your fellow spawn...I rescued one some time ago."

"I suppose...that's why you were hiding. You should've known better than to cross him."

Tav gave a weak laugh, "I suppose I should have...things...things could have been much...simpler."

"You...mean it, though? Even after my reaction earlier?"

"I mean it."

"Looks like someone's already been at you," he said softly, before leaning down again to finally bite.

Two sharp points, two stabs of pain. Numbness. Beautiful blessed numbness.

For just a moment Tav considered letting it go on, letting the cool paralytic feeling carry her off...

But she thought of Cald.

She thought of Gortash.

She thought of the shadow curse, and all that lay between their camp and Baldur's Gate.

And up came her hand to shove him back. She reached up, healed the wound, then lay back down. "I'm not against your...biting me, but you need to ask first. And...if we're fighting, and going to kill our opponents anyway, that's fine too. Does that suit you?"

"It does indeed. Thank you. And thank you for not killing me on the spot."

"It was nothing," Tav said, and when he'd left, she shut her eyes and added in a soft tone he'd not have heard even if he was still beside her, "Really...it was nothing."

[blackjackkent]

So...talked to some goblins and an ogre at the Absolutist camp on the edge of the Shadowlands. Everyone here is being chill to us bc they think we are True Souls; Hector isn't saying anything one way or another but just letting them assume whatever they like for now.

This fellow, Kansif, who is remarkably plainspoken for an Absolute cultist, says that they are waiting for someone to bring "the lyre." Hector inquired what he meant...and apparently it's an instrument that Minthara, the drow general back at the corrupted Selune temple with all the goblins, always carries on her person. Kansif says it is to be used to summon a guide who can bring them all safely through the shadows to Moonrise Tower.

...I definitely looted Minthara and I don't think I recall a lyre, and it's entirely possible that I looted it and sold it without giving it a second thought. Which is concerning. It's certainly not in the backpack I am using to store plot-related items.

I did, however, early on send some musical instruments back to camp storage, and one of them is this:

Which is labeled with the orange color often applied to quest items.

...And picking it up, the quest journal immediately updated! Hell yeah!

(Actually the very weird thing here is that I actually have two of these in camp storage. Not sure where I got the other one from. :thonk:)

"Pluck a tune," Kansif says, "and our guide will come scuttling."

Oh boy, a performance check. Hector has not had to do many of these; he is not exactly the theatrical type, nor is he much good at it.

He barely passed the check with help from Thaumaturgy and Guidance. The cutscene made it sound very nice but I tend to think this song in Hector's hands is pretty middling at best.

But it worked!

There is a low, scuttling hiss in the darkness around them, the sound of many legs clickclacking over the rocks. A half-whispered voice.

"Yesss...I hear them, your majesty. Calling us. Their god and their guide, together..."

A form coalesces out of the mist.

A man's body...mostly, but from the waist down the form of an enormous, wriggling spider. Grey skin, white hair, and far too many eyes, his skin pockmarked with them, making his face seem to undulate as he speaks and they all blink in sequence.

Hector stares, frozen in the act of lowering the lyre, as the creature approaches. What in the name of all the gods is this thing. Another cultist? A creature of the shadowy curse around them? Something else altogether?

It wields a torch glowing with white light, not flame - a Moonlantern such as the one they found broken on Nere's body - and does seem to drive back the darkness as it moves into the camp. But that image is quite at odds with the horror its body presents.

"Someone pinch me, please," he hears Gale whisper. "I'd really love to wake up from this nightmare."

Kansif, the orc, takes a slight step forward, clearing his throat uneasily. "Greetings, in the Absolute's name. You have been charged with... guiding us..." His voice trails off into unsteady silence as the creature ignores him completely.

"New flesh for you, my queen," it murmurs pensively, seemingly speaking to someone they cannot see. "But...who are they?"

Kansif looks at Hector and shrugs. "Best introduce yourself," he mutters. "Perhaps he'll listen to a True Soul."

Hector doesn't like that much, given that his status as a True Soul is a masquerade at best and an easily destroyed lie at worst. But there's nothing else for it, so he squares his shoulders and takes a step towards this abomination. He is aware of the soft, everpresent heat of Karlach's presence behind him, moving up to his side, and it steadies him enough to meet the creature's gaze without flinching.

"And you..." The creature's voice is a hiss, like a snake, like a fiend. "What are you?" It sounds more idly curious than anything, like a child examining a new toy it does not understand.

"More faithful of the Absolute," Kansif says gruffly, gesturing from Hector to his companions. "They need a guide to the Tower, same as us."

The creature's face wriggles with the blinking of all its eyes at once, and then pain stabs into Hector's temple.

Narrator: Your minds connect, and you hear a whispered voice. The Absolute? Or just the echoes of his fractured mind, reverberating in the dark?

"Ahhh...a True Soul..." The creature seems pleased with what it found within Hector's mind, the squirm of the tadpole reaching out to its own kind. A smile stretches its face, turning its already horrifying visage even more unsettling, and it lets out a hoarse, breathless giggle. "You have more worshippers every day, majesty..."

It leans forward, all its eyes coming to rest on Hector's, until their faces are so close that he can feel its hot, stinking breath on his cheek.

"Yes..." it murmurs. "Yes, they'll do...nicely..." It gives a slow, resonant chuckle and then draws back.

It is, perhaps, a mark of how much Hector has been through that he stands his ground here. The first day after the nautiloid landed, he is quite sure he might have been unable to prevent the horror and panic from taking hold; he would have run, run until he was far from that terrible place. But he has already seen horrors, and he is not alone in looking back at them. He has friends beside him. And despite the revulsion coursing through him, he stands steadily. He does not run.

"So you're the guide?" he asks, his voice tightly controlled. "How do you survive out there?"

The creature smiles again, a strange beatific expression that doesn't match the moment at all. "We have our queen's favor," it whispers. "She speaks to us. Protects us. Graces us with Her blessing."

"And Her magic lamp," one of the goblins puts in with a cackle.

The smile drops from the creature's face. "They are jealous of Your gift, Majesty. But You gave it to us. And we always keep it close."

Hector tips his head to one side. He has come to find that giving over to his curiosity in the more awful moments of this adventure can help keep him from dwelling on the fear, and this is no different. "Can I examine your lantern?" he asks, in his most polite voice. "Surely the Absolute wouldn't mind?"

"No!" the creature snarls. "Our queen gave it to *us*." It sneers down at Hector disdainfully. "If they wish to walk through the darkness alone, they are welcome to."

Hector flinches. "I apologize," he mutters. "I didn't mean any offense."

"Good," Kansif says brusquely. "Now are we ready to depart?"

Hector glances at the others, waits for them all to nod (albeit all unhappily) before he nods himself. "Yes. Lead on."

The spider creature smiles again, a strange mockery of those on holy quest that Hector has seen back in the world of light. "Bless us again, Majesty," it keens, raising its lantern high above its head. "Shine your light. Protect us!"

It turns and begins to move off into the darkness. "Come. Follow and stay close. Do not leave the light. Do not feed the shadows."

[spiderwarden]

There was only a matter of time before this one would find and come after her. But the Drow at least had given her the benefit of the doubt that she would become stronger and then return after her. Minthara still remembers the Grove clearly, remembers how this particular child had actually surprised her. That is not something easily done - not to Minthara Baenre of all people - however controlled by the Absolute her sharp skill remained.

But even as the young tiefling burst through the foliage and charged - blade in hand, holding it in all the incorrect ways. Minthara brings her hands behind her back, "Leave her!" Word comes sharply , a bellow, as Karlach reached for Mol. Likely for the child's safety more than anything, "She is just in her rage." Words come lower, less like an order. But still the voice of the Drow Commander, Minthara was rasied to be.

And so she stood, letting the child come at her - in all of her rage and blood lust.

@revyved / for Mol, who is right to want vengeance for the Grove.

[brokenbowstring-cobbledcoffin]

it will no longer be a whisper; when it is your blood on my hands i will scream

SUPER angsty, SUPER dark fic about elthiilith meeting minthara. the concept of them having bad blood was just so enticing i couldn't not write it. here it is in all its 4,164 words. featuring @lustyargonianmaid 's oc maeve because the concept of her being elthiilith's daughter figure brings this all into focus.

us'dalhar - A conjunction I made up meaning "my child." A combination of “uss” or “ussa” (mine or my) and “dalhar” (child). I have a feeling such a phrase would be used more with apprentices or disciples than actual familial ties. As affectionate as it sounds, i imagine in drow culture it’s frequently used as a patronizing phrase, as well.

--

“Oi! Ain’t no party in ‘ere– we’re doing the Absolute’s work!” Barked a bald goblin, snarling as she spoke, “State yer business. Now.”

Elthiilith was easy to oblige. She drew herself up, prim and proper, and tilted her head to look at the creature from under her brows. The corners of her mouth lifted ever-so-slightly into a violent promise– just like in court. “I’ve got an audience with the one in charge.”

The goblin looked her up and down, before nodding. “You one of those Moonrise types, then?”

Elthiilith pocketed the name.

“Your kind usually don’t deal with Boss Ragzlin and Priestess Gut. Guessin’ you’re after Minthara–”

Minthara. Minthara. Minthara.

Elthiilith didn’t listen to a word the goblin said, the name bouncing off her skull like a nightmare. She blinked the memories away– the dining hall, the slap of the whip on skin, Ilivardra screaming–

“Seems we’ve pegged all three marks– Elthiilith?” Wyll’s voice spoke behind her, but she barely registered it.

“Enough gabbin, yous. You want Ragzlin, Gut, or–”

“What did you just say?” Elthiilith strode up to the goblin like a woman possessed.

“Oi– whaddaya mean?! Back off!”

“The name of the drow. Say it again,” She growled, grabbing the goblin by her long, fleshy ear and yanking, “Because I know I didn’t hear you right.”

She was aware and unphased by the knocking of arrows and barking of the other three goblins in the hall. The goblin in her hand reached for her weapon and Elthiilith simply snatched her wrist up and away.

“Weapons down, you fiends! Haven’t you learned to bow to your betters?” She heard Astarion snarl.

The goblin stared up at her with dark, wide eyes as fear naturally formed on her face. “N-Nightwarden Minthara, ma’am.”

Elthiilith’s eye twitched, and for a flash of a moment, she saw red. The goblin yelped, and only then did she realize she had crimson blood trickling down her hand from where she’d scratched her cartilaginous handle. She quickly snatched her hand away, wiping the blood on her coat. She ignored the way her fingers trembled, but barely masked the quaking of her voice. “Very good. I expect you to… continue to use her full title in the future.”

The way she spat ‘full title’ seemed on-par with her cruelty to the goblins, but she knew her companions knew better.

The goblin brought one hand up to clutch her ear, lazy rivulets dropping from the gash Elthiilith’s blunt nails created. “Y-Yes ma’am. Of course, ma’am.”

“Now, the Nightwarden, where is she?”

“S-She’s in tellin’ the warchiefs wot’s wot. Just p-past the spider pit.”

“Good. You may be useful yet.” Elthiilith turned sharply on her heel, walking up to the large, wooden doors. With a shove, she forced them open.

—

“Well, well, well,” Wyll commented beside Maeve, “Looks like the chief’s finally gettin’ in the spirit of things.”

Astarion picked up his pace until he walked beside Elthiilith, whispering harshly to her, just loud enough for Maeve to pick up, “–It’s good to see you getting so in-character, darling, but I’d rather you not sicc an entire goblin camp on us just because you’re feeling a little murder-y.”

“And I’d rather you stay the fuck out of my way,” Elthiilith bit.

Shadowheart looked around anxiously, and now even Maeve was feeling a little nervous. Astarion turned and shared a glance between them all, brows raised at the audacity and face almost pleading “someone with a little more diplomacy, fucking stop her.”

Gale studied Elthiilith’s form, speaking lowly to Maeve, “That, right there, is a woman ready for war.” A beat, where Gale turned his tense gaze on her, “Go get her.”

As Astarion fell out of step with Elthiilith’s, Maeve caught up with her opposite side, hands curling easily around her elbow and tried to slow her down. The older drow jerked her elbow to shake her off, and when that didn’t work, Elthiilith leveled her golden, mad-touched glare onto Maeve.

“If you wish to keep those hands, us’dalhar, you’ll let me go right now.”

“What’s this about, Elthee?” Maeve’s voice was soft, innocent. The glare lifted, for a moment replaced with surprise, or alarm, or some combination of the two.

Elthiilith turned her gaze sharply away from Maeve’s, eye still twitching, arms still tense, hands still balled into fists. Finally, she spoke through her teeth, “Ancient history.”

Astarion wheeled to her other side, a picture of aristocratic impatience, “Yes, well, I’m sure we’d all love to know if this ‘ancient history’ is going to get us killed. We don’t need details, of course, just to know what we’re walking into.”

Elthiilith drew an exasperated breath, before her face shifted from annoyance to admittance, “I… I don’t know. It’s been ages since I’ve even thought about her. Minthara.”

“Really? How in the hells is it that you two know each other? Is the underdark that small?” Wyll asked.

“Please. Menzoberranzan is not a small city, by any means… but the families that rule it are.”

“Of course, nobody knows how to start a good blood feud like the ruling class,” Gale quipped.

Elthiilith took another breath, visibly deciding what to share and not to share. Finally she looked around at her companions. “Minthara’s a member of House Baenre, the first and most powerful house in Menzoberranzan. It’s obviously the goal of any ambitious bard to be invited into their House– not only for the prestige, but for the opportunity. I performed there frequently for a time. I only knew Minthara professionally.”

Maeve squeezed Elthiilith’s arm, urging her to continue.

“She…. She killed my daughter.”

The words were so simple, matter-of-fact, as though it was something she hadn’t come to terms with. Maybe it wasn’t.

“I… I’m sorry, Elthiilith,” Gale was the first to offer his sympathies, only to be met Elthiilith’s cold, defensive snarl.

“I don’t need your sympathies,” She bit, barely above a whisper, “This all happened ages ago– before you were ever thought of, let alone conceived. I’ve grieved enough for my stupid spawn–”

Everyone politely pretended Elthiilith’s voice didn’t break.

“In all of those years, she still has her head. Why?” Lae’zel asked.

“Don’t think I haven’t thought about it. Vividly. Assassinating a Baenre is an impossible task at worst, and a torturously slow death sentence at best. Besides, one can always have more children.”

“You didn’t, though,” Maeve pointed out.

The glare Elthiilith shot her was telling, like ripping the scab off of a healing wound.

“You’re on a quest for vengeance, chief?” Wyll asked, determination in his eye.

Elthiilith looked up, before nodding slowly. “Something like that.”

“You want vengeance? Fine. But you’d best control your thoughts around this ‘Minthara.’ She’s undoubtedly a ‘True Soul’ as well, so expect her to go poking in your brain.” Shadowheart was curt, as always.

Maeve gave Elthiilith an assuring squeeze, before letting her go.

“I am nothing if not the epitome of control,” Elthiilith hissed.

Astarion snorted beside her, “Tell that to the goblins.”

—

Elthiilith could hardly hear over her own racing heartbeat, but her mask was an eerie illusion of serenity. She pinpointed a memory in her head and kept her focus on that, eyes straight ahead, as the form of Minthara Baenre came into view. Goblins moved out of her way as she walked, companions following behind.

“I do not have time for interruptions from under–” The words died on Minthara’s tongue as she looked up, and Elthiilith felt her fists clench. It was obvious, Minthara recognized her.

Elthiilith felt their minds touch, just as Shadowheart had warned her she would– a cold hand caressing her brain. She swatted it away, but not before she got a glimpse of who it was that commanded Minthara– one of the ‘Chosen.’

There was a fond smile on Minthara’s face, and it took all the willpower Elthiilith could muster not to snarl. “My, my. So the infamous Deathwhisper has come to join us, and as a True Soul no less. It’s a great pleasure to see such a familiar face.”

“I could say the same,” Elthiilith bit curtly, “I can only assume your House was thrilled at you coming to the side of the Absolute, Nightwarden.”

“Ignorant fools, the lot of them. Surely you understand, no power would be gained under the will of Lolth.”

“Oooh, that kind of heresy would earn you at least a hundred lashes from the Matron Mother,” Elthiilith’s mask was a perfect fit over her rage– was that not how many Minthara delivered to her own daughter, so many years ago?

“The matron mothers are the only heretics here. I serve the Absolute devoutly.”

She caught the eye of Maeve, whose brows were furrowed. Elthiilith swallowed, before giving the most subtle nod.

“…Elthiilith, your eyes. Are you ill? I’m sure Priestess Gut could–” Minthara spoke, sending a sharp knife of dread into her stomach.

“I’m fine,” She snapped sharply, ignoring the way her features paled, “…The Absolute has saved me from my sickness, although my eyes remain.”

This seemed to please Minthara, “A miracle. Praise be, sister.”

“Praise be.”

“If that is the case, will you be able to join my hunt?”

Angry thoughts bubbled onto the surface of her mind, You are my hunt, and it took her a moment to quell them. She tilted her head, “A hunt? Whose our target?”

“Worshippers of a false god. Their existence is an insult to the Absolute’s claim on this region.” Minthara spat with all the vitriol of a believer. With a glance at the map spread across the table, she continued, “There is a weapon the Absolute seeks– I’m sure those wretches have it hidden away there. We will find it, amongst the dead and the ashes.”

Once again her mind intruded into Elthiilith’s, and her annoyance was almost enough to reveal the imagery of Minthara’s blood spilling over the floor. But instead she turned her thoughts to what was presented before her. Minthara’s giddy, sick excitement– the same kind of glee she wore in the hall that day, while Ilivardra lay bare-backed and bleeding below her, screaming her apologies and her pleas to her mother–

No, there, there was a weapon. She ignored how hard it was to breath, that weapon was–

Shadowheart’s anxiety spiked, because yes, the weapon was the artifact she was carrying. The odd, spiked, isocahedron with runes carved into it that protected their band from the… “Absolute’s” influence.

Shadowheart steeled her mind, but Elthiilith felt herself slipping, spiralling.

“I see not all of Lolth’s teachings were in vain?” She spoke, ignoring the probing of her mind, and looking Minthara in the eye.

The sadistic glee in Minthara’s face melted into frustration. “Lolth teaches nothing. The Absolute has delivered me to this divine path.”

Elthiilith felt her face twist into a violent smile, “She certainly taught us to maim and to kill. You cannot deny how well She indulged your preternatural taste for violence. Perhaps the Absolute is simply taking advantage of Her hard work?”

Minthara snarled, “Hold your tongue– I will not indulge this blasphemy.”

“Oh, it’s nothing but jest, dear Minthara,” A purr laced into Elthiilith’s voice, and her vision washed red. Her hands flexed over the edge of the desk as she came around to Minthara’s side, itching to feel her blood run hot over her palms. “Surely the Absolute wouldn’t deprive you of your divine sense of humor. She couldn’t be that cruel, could She?”

There was a flash of nervousness in Minthara’s eyes– and Gods, has it been so long since she’s seen that look in someone’s eyes. She forced laughter, but Elthiilith watched her eyes flash to both of her hands. No, no knives yet. It’s not like she needed knives to carve her open, anyway.

She thinks one of her companions whispered her name, but she didn’t hear it. She leaned over the map, looking at Minthara through the tops of her eyes. “Here, I’ll tell you what, Minthara. As a show of good will and great company, I’ll show you where the heretics are.”

“You– You know where they hide?”

Wyll was definitely yelling, now. Elthiilith still ignored him.

“Of course– when have you ever known me to not be teeming with useful information, dearest?” She spat cockily, ripping a dagger from the wood of the table and holding it over the map, “And, perhaps now that we are both free of Lolth, we can laugh about how ironic it is that one of Lolth’s favorites looked so horrid in Spidersilk?”

Minthara leaned over her shoulder in a way Elthiilith could feel her stiffen as she recognized the insult. So the bitch remembered, then? Elthiilith’s jaw tensed and she studied Minthara’s face, eyes wide in shock.

And then she grinned, mad and lazy and all-too-gleeful.

“You asked if I was sick, Minthara,” Elthiilith laughed, “I’ll show you how sick I can be.”

Minthara punctuated Elthiilith’s sentence with a sharp cry of pain, as Elthiilith slammed the tip of the dagger into her useless bracer, through her hand, and into the table.

“Now!” Wyll shouted, drawing his blade and turning to the goblins who were panickedly drawing their weapons.

Blood splattered across the map, hot on Elthiilith’s hand. She grabbed Minthara by her armor and spat in her face. “Do you even remember her name?!”

Minthara growled, grabbing the handle of the dagger and yanking it free, swinging it up towards Elthiilith’s face. Elthiilith stepped back, drawing her rapier. The blade flew past Elthiilith’s face, grazing her cheek and splitting her ear. Minthara drew her mace and shield, ready to fight.

“Are you serious?! You’d spill my blood over one worthless spawn? We are better than petty feuds, chosen by the Absolute!”

“Shut up about your Absolute!” Elthiilith shouted, thrusting her blade in at Minthara, only for it to be blocked by her shield, “I’ll rend your flesh from your bones!”

She hastily jabbed again, and Minthara parried effortlessly, catching Elthiilith’s chin with her mace, the crack of her teeth against teeth loud enough to ring in the hall. She stumbled back from the impact, while Minthara closed the distance. Her mace was raised, shield presented in front of her, held by her wounded hand. Elthiilith pressed herself against the wall and jumped, pressing both feet flat onto the shield and shoving. Minthara cried out as the jostling affected her wound, blood dripping to the ground as she stumbled back. Elthiilith snatched the crossbow off of her hip and loaded it quick as she could, before squeezing the trigger. The bolt landed dead in Minthara’s knee, and she shouted. With a grimace, she ripped the bolt out, before a whisper and a glow healed the wound. Teeth gritted, Minthara advanced.

It had given Elthiilith just enough time to get off of the ground, sliding out of the way of Minthara’s mace smashing about where her head just was. Elthiilith thrust her rapier through the gap in Minthara’s defenses, cutting between her ribs. Her shield struck against Elthiilith’s side, throwing her back over the table. Another roll, another dodge, and Minthara’s mace destroyed it. Elthiilith spat blood to the stone floor.

“She was a child! Not even in her seventh decade!! And you flayed her to death!”

Elthiilith exploited the limp Minthara approached with and drove her rapier into her side. Minthara shouted in rage, before swinging down on Elthiilith’s knee with her mace. Elthiilith screamed.

“Perhaps if you and that cave rat of a consort you had taught her some manners–!”

Elthiilith growled, free hand grabbing the top of Minthara’s shield and wrenching it down. The mace struck her head; for a moment the world was dark. But a whispered word knitted her bones together and Elthiilith’s eyes snapped open, pulling Minthara’s shield to the floor, her arm still trapped with it.

She used Minthara’s shoulder as a brace as she stood up, bringing all her weight down onto the shield. The snap! and scream that ripped from Minthara’s throat made Elthiilith’s blood burn.

“Elthiilith!” Shadowheart shouted, “Pull yourself together!”

“Just kill her and let’s get the hells out of here!” Astarion roared.

Elthiilith grabbed a handful of Minthara’s white hair and pulled her head to look up. “You are not allowed,” Elthiilith’s voice was a low, spitting growl, “to speak of my blood like that–”

“Too late for that, minstrel,” Minthara lifted her mace, “You have no blood left to speak of.”

Elthiilith screamed, the kind of fury that thundered, its own kind of spell of fear. Her rapier clattered to the stone, and she brought her hand digging into Minthara’s throat.

“I damn you to the Hells!”

“I am chosen by the Absolute, and will return to her side, even if you manage to kill me!”

Elthiilith dragged her to her feet, snatching the discarded dagger from its place in the wall and driving it into her shoulder. Agonizingly painful, but non-lethal.

“I’ll drag you there myself!”

Minthara whispered the healing word to herself again, and brought her mace up to strike, but Elthiilith caught her arm and changed her momentum. Elthiilith avoided the blow, but tumbled to the floor.

“You’re weak. I’d like to see you–”

Minthara’s body was sent sideways into the wall by a violent blast. Elthiilith forced herself up from the floor, glancing at the origin.

Wyll winked at her, before gutting the goblin in front of him, “Get ‘er, chief.”

Elthiilith snatched her rapier up from the floor, breathing hard as Minthara fumbled to push herself to her feet. With the flick of her wrist and a yelp from the floor, Elthiilith cut across Minthara’s arm, causing her hand to fall limp and the mace to tumble to the floor.

She crouched over Minthara, breathing hot in her face, blood dribbling from her nose and mouth now. “I know the rumors about me, Minthara…” Her voice was a growl, “I know what they think I did to those people, the statues I sculpted in their flesh, the scenes I painted in their blood.”

Her hand closed over Minthara’s throat, and the Nightwarden began to squirm. “Let me tell you, they’re all true. But, I’ll share one secret with you.”

The knife ripped out of Minthara’s shoulder, blood splattering across Elthiilith’s clothes.

“They were all dead already. I killed them painlessly, you know. But you? I’ll give you the privilege of feeling the pain of all of it.”

Minthara wailed, a sound so desperate and fearful it made Elthiilith’s heart clench in her chest. She gasped around Elthiilith’s hand, “Y-You’re mad.”

“Yes, my dear,” Elthiilith whispered, softly, sadly, almost tenderly, “That is what grief will do to you.”

Elthiilith’s hand forced Minthara’s chin up and drove the blade through her throat. With a gargling sigh, the light faded from her red eyes.

No, no no no no!

The knife was ripped from her throat, only to be plunged again, and again, and again. A guttural growl transformed into a scream. She was supposed to hurt this woman, supposed to make her regret the just-over-a-half-century worth of pain she’d caused her. But a corpse can’t weep, a corpse can’t cry– why did she have to be so soft-hearted–

Blood painted her hands and clothes, streaming down Minthara’s blue-hued skin. Ethiilith’s hands balled into her hair and she pulled, unable to shake the trembling of her hands or the tears in her eyes.

“Elthee,” The voice was soft, and a hand grabbed her shoulder. She looked up– pathetic, she’s sure, with the wideness of her teary-eyed stare– at Maeve, who had tears in her own dark eyes.

Oh, gods, she looked like Ilivardra like this– as if her daughter might have grown up.

“It’s time to go.”

—

It was a miracle they made it back to camp without alerting many of the goblins. Elthiilith had stumbled into camp with a limp, silent as the grave. No one said anything, even Lae’zel. Elthiilith was still soaked in Minthara’s blood.

“I cannot believe her,” Shadowheart hissed around the campfire, “Going in, almost getting herself killed–”

“I’ve never seen her so angry,” Gale muttered, “She truly was a woman possessed.”

Wyll nodded. “Vengeance will do that to you. I’m… not proud of it. Did… Is that what I looked like, with Spike?”

“No,” Astarion spoke simply, “You were much cleaner after him.”

“Yes. Elthiilith’s display was significantly more satisfying to watch.”

Lae’zel’s comment earned her a set of unnerved glares, to which she just chk’ed and walked off.

“…Has anyone talked to her?” Maeve asked softly.

Everyone exchanged a guilty glance, save for Astarion, who simply huffed, “Oh hells no. I don’t really want to get the Minthara treatment.”

“Astarion,” Maeve chastised.

“To be fair, if anyone were going to get the… um… ‘Minthara treatment’, it would be Astarion,” Gale offered.

Maeve turned to Gale, before turning her eyes on their other two companions as well. “So what are you three’s excuses?”

Wyll’s face dropped to the dirt below, and Gale avoided her gaze. Shadowheart simply stared her down, “If you think she needs a shoulder to cry on so badly, why don’t you do it?”

Maeve held her gaze, before standing up. “You’re right. I will.”

“Mae–” Gale spoke, a little hurriedly. He had a look in his eyes, begging her not to go, “Are you sure that’s wise?”

Maeve gaped at Gale, “You’re afraid of her?”

“She did give us… plenty of reasons to walk softly around her, darling,” Astarion’s face darkened.

“She’s not heartless!”

“And you’re sure about that?” Shadowheart raised a brow, “You’ve seen how easily she uses people. It honestly puts Astarion to shame.”

“I’d take offense to that,” Astarion quipped, “If I didn’t think you were absolutely correct.”

“Did we not see enough proof of the otherwise, tonight?” Maeve bit, before turning and walking away from the campsite, leaving a crackling in the air like lightning about to strike.

—

Elthiilith buried the dagger into the tree with a shout. Sap dribbled out of the gashes already formed. Sweat dripped down Elthiilith’s brow, mingling with blood still dried to her skin.

“Elthee?” The voice made every fiber of Elthiilith’s body tense.

“Why is it always you?” She hissed through her teeth.

Maeve's steps were light and graceful until she was in Elthiilith’s space, unafraid of the rage radiating off of her in waves.

“I don’t know. Maybe because I’m the only one not worried you’re going to bite my head off.”

“Did today teach you nothing, us’dalhar?” She punctuated her sentence by stabbing the tree again, “Be smart like them.”

“Hm…” Maeve considered, sitting on a rock in Elthiilith’s vision, “No.”

Elthiilith’s dagger struck the tree three more times before she dared to speak again. When she did, her voice was croaky. “Damnit, Maeve.”

“You should put the knife down, and come wash up.”

“I’m not done yet.”

“When will you be? When you cut a hole through that tree?”

Elthiilith’s hand stuttered, slipping off the knife as she tried to pull it from the tree. In her anger, she punched the tree, and the pain was immediate. She clutched her hand to her chest, and the weakness in her arms finally registered.

“I shouldn’t have killed her,” Elthiilith finally spoke.

“Yes, you should have. She was a bitch, and she had it coming.”

“No, I shouldn’t have killed her yet.”

Maeve was quiet.

“I… I should have cut off her fingers. I should have buried every blade in that room into her shoulders. I should have pried out all of her teeth and made her a little crown. I should have made her suffer, damnit! But I didn’t– I showed her mercy. She didn’t deserve that.”

“She was scared. She looked at you with nothing but fear in her eyes. Isn’t that enough suffering?”

“No.”

Elthiilith stumbled to the stream, sticking her hands into the icy water and watching blood color the water. Maeve moved to sit next to her.

“Ilivardra lived for three days after Minthara’s punishment. In agony. And despite everything I did– everything I did to save her– she died in agony. Minthara deserved nothing less.”

“Oh, Elthee,” Maeve’s voice was soft, full of pity.

“I had sixty nine fucking years to decide what I was going to do to that bitch once I got my hands on her. For nothing.”

“But it’s over now, right?”

Elthiilith stared into the water. Nothing was going to bring her family back, but she’d known that for ages. Honestly, she had long ignored Ilivardra’s death. She never thought she’d get her opportunity for vengeance. This was… more than she could ever hope for.

She rubbed her hands together before shaking them off. She nodded. “Yes. I suppose it is.”

Maeve smiled, putting a hand on Elthiilith’s shoulder. “I think she’d be proud of you.”

“You didn’t know her.”

She rolled those ebony eyes of hers, “Fine. I’m proud of you, then.”

Elthiilith bit her lip to keep from crying.

[spiderwarden]

The Sharran was amusing to think that the duo could stand on the same footing. Perhaps a little over a hundred years ago when Minthara herself was a mere cleric, but since that time she has been through training beyond the Half Elf's comprehension. Still, she could sense that Shadowheart was almost eager to get a measure of her own stature, Minthara will entertain the notion for the mutual benefit of seeing Shadowheart in action.

A child of the nightsinger. Minthara could see right away the motivations that drove the younger of the two, despite being unable to remember anything of her past, Shadowheart hoped that Shar would fill the void inside of her. Or perhaps found comfort in the silence found in her prayers, that was the beacon of the one and only Shar, was it not? Solace in solitude, presence found in the empty room, comfort found in nothingness. O'Lolth preserve her, at least the Spider Queen made herself known during prayer..

Shadowheart held the qualities of a fine soldier, and perhaps in time with the right influence around her could be made into a finer warrior. For now she was- Minthara lifts her foot with an instant side step to dodge a kick at her legs. The parry that followed was quick and fluid while the Drow thwacks the front of her ankle off of the side of Shadowheart's thigh. A correction to a poor guard, before another swipe at her had Minthara circling around the Sharran. For now, Shadowheart's eagerness reflected in her actions and that can only be corrected with experience or by a more senior officer. The Drow did not mind being that senior officer.

If she wanted a measure of her character, Minthara was all too happy to provide.

The Drow gave another strike to her guard, this time behind the thigh as her own steps danced away before falling into stance. Oftentimes in Menzobarranzan, blood would be drawn as an example for such a weakness and it took everything in Minthara not to extend the same sentiment that her own mother did to her. The best of techniques were always efficiently executed by the masters after all, and often times drawing blood was always the way to ensure they would not repeat their mistakes.

Minthara fakes another hit at her legs, a feign of intentions after weakening the muscles in her leg, before she takes full advantage of the clumsy guard and charges forward. Driving her shoulder into Shadowheart's middle and pushing up with her knees to drive the Half Elf off her feet. Lifting the Sharran with ease before locking her hands into her thighs and dropping her into the ground.

She lands between her thighs and lifts up with the expectation of a flurry of arms to drag her down to begin the grapple on the ground. But instead finds Shadowheart entirely in submission and no attempted guard against the hand that Minthara had clasped against her throat. no fight when the Drow dragged each leg up to straddle her middle. Excitement is lit within a red gaze while she looks over the Sharran's face, adrenaline rushing through her in the thrill of battle - no matter how trivial. No matter how minute, battle was hammered into her blood, and that reflected now in Minthara's silent mirth.

The allure of her submission was almost too much to witness. It was a small wonder that her Goddess liked to see her on her knees when she made such a delicious sight on her back. Minthara tilts her head while her gaze wandered over Shadoowheart's neck, pinpointing every single inch that would kill the half elf instantly. Wonderful places to bite...

Then she moves, nearly dips her head to mold her lips to Shadowheart's, nearly steals that kiss that was so begging to be taken of her, before the Sharran speaks and the spell was broken. Minthara freezes with the admission, and then smiles. Then quickly locks her head under her arm into a choke and tosses herself onto her back with the lock of her ankles around Shadowheart's middle.

@grief-worn / a small reply to this. - STR ROLL 19