#duergar culture

[porphyriosao3]

A Paladin Named Filth

"So... that Wroot character seemed to know you." Filth's massive shoulders sank a bit from where he was preparing the evening meal, but he nodded gamely.

"Aye." A flat response. Wyll certainly wasn't one to take a hint, but maybe...

"If you had met him before, why did you say nothing?" He cursed, beard bristling. Leave it to Lae'zel to jump in. "He might have been useful."

"He knew of me, like," Filth replied shortly. "Not proper me, ye ken." He cast his gaze to the symbol on his surcoat, hung up to form a makeshift shrine. The eye on the gauntlet seemed to stare back at him, judging as it always did. You know, it seemed to say. You know the proper path. With a deep sigh, he came back with plates and handed around the rations.

"I do not understand." Lae'zel barely glanced at her plate, taking it without a word of thanks as usual. "Either he knew you, or he did not." Helm's grace, she was young.

"Well..." He took a moment, said a quick prayer to the Vigilant One, then bit into the ham he'd sliced. When the taste of good salt meat hit he glanced down; proper food, for once. With a trace of a smile he looked up, a shred of good humor returning with actual food. "It's to do with my past. You'll have noticed I'm not the youngest here." An understatement - he was a good century older than anyone in camp except that poncy vampire. Filth was still unsure he should have let him live, but Helm's way was to judge each according to their acts and not their nature. Flawed as he was, he kept the faith.

"If you'd rather not say," Wyll said finally, cutting his eyes at Lae'zel, "don't let us pressure you into anything. It just seemed odd. We all have pasts we'd rather not dig up."

"Nay, lad, 's fine," Filth sighed. "I've told the roster of me sins many a time, another won't be the end." He chewed meditatively for a moment, then sat up into a proper position to speak. "I were a smith for years, me. Darkblood clan, not too strong, not too weak, we mined and dealt three days east o' Ust Natha. Got drafted to be a slaver. Brought out the worst in me as it does in many." Lae'zel made that chk noise she used to show disgust, but he ignored it. Not too pleased with himself either.

"A slaver?" Wyll was properly shocked, and Helm help him but these were all just kids he was traveling with. They were all so bloody young. "But... you're a paladin!"

"Aye, and so I am." Pale eyes cut across the circle. "And given that you're in thrall to the lass with the horns an' wings, maybe a little less of the outrage? I'm not proud of what I did. But you asked, and so I tell my tale." A chuckle from the darkness indicated that the leech was prowling about; fine if he heard as well. Filth's pride was one of many things he had sacrificed to Helm, and one more listener was nowt. "I enjoyed it more than I should - havin' others I could slap around, use as I saw fit. Got quite a reputation. I was Tav in those days, Black Tav, for my name in youth was Gustav, y'see." He stared into the fire, remembering those days in all their grime and misery. "Weren't like even the slavers had an easy life of it. Always at the beck an' call of the tallboys in the city, Drow tchukh. One day I took a gnome woman's child from her arms. Threw it in the water in front of her. She cursed me, and I laughed at the time. Weren't no way a babe could survive the march ahead, claimed I were doin' her a kindness." He was braced for the disgust on the faces before him. No more than he deserved, he knew. "That march went close to the surface, though, y'see, and turns out a war was on. We wasn't armored for much, seein' as we were just runnin' a coffle o' shorties to Ust Natha. Crew of soldiers from some army or another went through us like a hot knife through lard."

"No more than you deserved," Wyll said bitterly. "No man trusts a slaver." Lae'zel said nothing but her eyes were burning. It was clear she didn't disagree.

"Well, and nor should they. We weren't the most trustworthy lot, 's true." Filth stirred the fire to give his hands something to do. "So there I lay against the wall of the cave, dead stacked around me like ore in t' hopper. Turns out we all look pretty much the same in death. Oh yeah," he grinned over at Wyll, "they killed the slaves too. They didn't kill us for honor or glory or to save the poor shorties, nay... they killed us for bein' there, and because we were armed, and might be spies or scouts they said. Mostly they just killed us for meanness, and that's no more than we deserved. But there I sat for a day and more, guts spillin' out in my lap, before a light appeared." He swallowed tightly; some memories were more sensitive than others. "Man appeared. Full armor, him, and not a sign of tiredness, but he starts shiftin' the dead around, layin' em out, and patchin' me up. Said his god - Lord Helm - had sent him. Sent him to find... find me." He coughed to cover the roughness in his throat. "Said I could be more than I was."

"How did he know?" Lae'zel asked with uncharacteristic softness. "Who knew you were there?"

"Helm told him." Filth shrugged. "'Tis the way of things. And I'd been doin' some thinkin' of my own, sittin' there in the dark waitin' for scavengers or ghouls or who knows what to smell the blood and come. The errors of my life came clear, y'know? Since leavin' my forge I'd brought nothin' to anyone but misery and spite, me as well as them, and I was makin' the world a worse place by bein' in it. Seemed to me that dyin' was the kindest thing I could do. But my Lord had other plans." He bowed his head towards the tabard, the gold stitching of the watching eye glittering in the firelight. "And so I studied and squired under Kendrik, and came time I took the oath-name Filth. Filth for what I was, Filth for what I had done, and Filth for what I was sworn to root out. And so I go about, from now until I die - whether by this worm in me eye or the blade or fallin' in a gashin' hole, me - honorin' Helm for seein' more in me than I deserved, and helpin' those what haven't yet had a second chance to get one." He glanced around the campsite, taking in the various tents and spots set aside for their little group of misfits. "And speakin' of second chances, we won't get a second chance at risin' early. I'm for bed, me." Leaving a pensive crowd, he went and knelt in front of his surcoat. It never got easier to tell that story. He hoped they understood the second chance they were all being given. He certainly did.

[alpaca-clouds]

The Vampire Spawn after the end

Something that I have thought about in regards to the game is what the vampire spawn do after the end if they survive the ritual. Sure, we know they will head for the Underdark, which kinda seems like a somewhat good idea, but there is a lot of questions that are open with them.

Because 7000 vampire spawn is not just a few, and like with almost all vampire media we basically do not know shit when it comes to how much blood they actually need. During the game it seems that Astarion needs blood once a day, but we also know that he was in that tomb for a full year and probably could not feed during this time. It also seems likely that Cazador did not feed the spawn, who were in the dungeon (aka the 7000) a whole lot.

DnD canon is a bit contradictive when it comes to how vampires work in this regard. Technically a vampire should not be able to survive for more than a few months without feeding, but especially with those in the dungeon it would make sense if somehow Cazador's spawn can deal with it. Either because Larian handwaved this stuff about vampire lore, or maybe because something is special about Cazador's spawn.

But that kinda gets me to the issue there: How the fuck are those 7000 traumatized folks going to deal?

I mean, sure, some of the vampire have probably been turned fairly recently - within the last year. But others were down there like Sebastian for more than a century! And some of them must be so gods darn hungry.

And this is where I am thinking like: Okay, how are they going to deal with the Underdark? Because the thing about the Underdark is that most down there is either some warrior cultures, monster or, well, gnomes. And I assume that the Gur will not just allow the 7000 vampire spawn to extinguish a full town or city of drow, duergar, or deep gnomes.

And sure, there are endings in which Astarion comes to help them deal. But I do not think it is gonna make a whole difference.

Also... I am going to assume, that indeed some of the vampires just do not want to stay around. Because... Well, for once, some of those 7000 will blame the 7 siblings for their situation and do not want to hang out with them. Some will not want to do what the Gur want. Some might be suicidal in one way or another. And some will just want to not spend more time underground.

In my two stories dealing with them (Wishing Well and Bound by Blood) I have about 600 of them either die or leave together with Leon, who is not willing to cooperate with the Gur. And I do assume that the entire blood access is gonna be a big conflict with them.

But also... Gods, all the trauma of the people. Like, the siblings are traumatized because they were tortured by Cazador all the time and forced into prostitution. And best case szenario, those other 7000 are traumatized from being starved and imprisoned for decades or up to centuries. I mean, geez. I hope the Gur do have a darn therapist. >.<

[ttrpg-smash-pass-vs]

DWARF

VS DUERGAR

The dwarf barely needs introduction, a fantasy staple. Hardy, stubborn, brave, cynical, loyal, 4-5 foot (1.2-1.5 m), and this particular example likely lives around humans. Because all dwarves grow well-maintained beards, but some who live around humans take to shaving. For fashion reasons mainly, and I presume for convenience of not being misgendered constantly. Mood. ...look, it's a dwarf. You know what this is. You think 5e innovated on this? They're everything everyone riffs on. If you're not copying Tolkien you're copying D&D (and Tolkien).

The duergar are surly and dour dwarves that were mutated by mindflayers. About 4-5 ft (1.2-1.5 m) tall, they're distrustful but loyal and hardworking. They live quiet lives working thier ass off but taking no pleasure from it. They can see in the dark, can turn invisible, and can double/half thier size for a minute! The mindflayers may have ripped out much of thier emotion, and their usual culture takes pride in suppressing what's left outside bitterness, but joy is in there!

[dailyadventureprompts]

Monsters Reimagined: Svirfneblin

While not as problematic or desperately in need of an overhaul as some of the other monsters in this series, I thought I'd share my take on the deepgnomes to round out my posts on duergar and drow as well as my overall thoughts on life in the underdark.

To put it simply the Svirfneblin fall prey to the one note lore that d&d even more than their subterranian neighbors, having a backstory that effectively amounts to " they live in caves, like gems, and don't trust outsiders". Picking around some different soruces though I found some interesting tidbits about how the gnomes fled underground leaving behind cities upon which people built new settlements, and talk about how their distrusting natures come from living in such a dangerous place as the underdark. This got me thinking about societies where secrecy was key, and cultural touchstones of fleeing underground to avoid disaster.

TLDR: My take on the deepgnomes has them as a fusion of brits during the blitz, survivalists, and the "preparing for armegeddon" culture of the cold war. Their society is suffused with a deepseated worry that the end is coming soon, whether it be a ruinous diaster, an attack from outside, or simply the end of the world. To brace against this ever-approaching calamity they stockpile, build hidden vault cities, and etch their history onto monuments and time capsuls so that the survivors won't have to rebuild from scratch. They build ramparts and artillery batteries in the tunnels of the underdark to defend against foes they haven't met yet, and dig ever deeper hoping to find a home where nothing can find them.

Imagine the party is traveling through a mistshrouded stretch of the underdark only to stumble across a village of deepgnomes hidden away in a terraced valley of mossfarms and blindfish shoals that you'd absolutely mistake for a naturally bountiful area if you wern't looking for it. The svirfneblin shun the use of fire outside of a sheltered hearth and never talk above a whisper, but after days of interrogation the party are deemed not to be spies of "the enemy" and allowed to move about the village with supervision. It is a quiet and placid existance, cut off from the wider world, and the party bears witness to the season's harvest being brought in. While a portion of it is preserved and placed into the village's larders, a far larger potion is prepared according to a "state standard" and put aside under strict guard. A few days later, a signal sounds and everyone retreats to their hidden dwellings. From the home of their hosts the party watch as caravan of other deepgnomes comes into town and loads up the harvest without a word being exchanged. Later, the villagers reveal that they don't know where the food goes. To a city they suspect, but the name and location of it was not haded down by their forebearers after the village's founding. Their best guess is that the tribute is to support the war effort, though how long the war has lasted, and who it's against is for anyone to say.

I wanted to preserve an element of svirfneblin's simplicity but use it as a front, a mystery for the party to poke at rather than that being all there was to them. The culture of jewlsmiths with a deepset connection to elemental earth is still there, but I want it to smack the audience in the face when they realize that it's not just pretty jewlery that the deepgnomes are adept at building, but arcane/blackpowder artillery.

The element of secrecy and paranoia likewise lets the dm play with what deepgnome society is REALLY like, beyond the rugged survivalist enclaves. Is there some great sage soverign maintaining an archave with knowledge about the coming end of days? A desperate ruin where survivors live off the tribute of other settlements while battling in the shadow of shattered art? A toltalitarian bastion building up their warfooting for a tactical fist strike?

Also, I wanted to pay tribute to the fact that the neblin part of the svirfneblin name has to do with mist, and I just liked the idea that their parts of the underdark were cloaked in constant fog as a means of weaving their gnomish illusions.

[i-plague-eater]

Made a picture with my DnD female duergar Buhra. Due to some circumstances, her settlement is culturally closer to classic dwarves rather than evil duergars. They don't do slavery, chosen honest hard work and cooperate with normal dwarves instead. Maybe more poor, but at least they're not forcing other races coming through the same pain as they did. They learned how to support each other and accept their horrible past. I'd say they're a bit arrogant about this fact.

Buhra is a slightly rude, greedy, dumb and alcohol-addict person who's also very into gambling. She can be grumpy, mean and swears a lot yet she isn't evil and really nice with kids and animals. She's a simple person from a numerous family and can be friendly enough with ordinary people who isn't mean to duergars and those who pays her well. Buhra is very strong despite her average height and very crafty when it comes to both hammer swinging and beer brewing.

[autistichalsin]

Do we ever get any lore on Halsin's tattoo? I know it changed color between EA and full release, and I know for awhile you could erroneously put it on a duergar character (same with Aylin's cracks, interesting from the coding side on how they do their special effects) but that's pretty much the extent of it.

His writer was asked on Twitter and said they're just cultural for the Druids!

[bhaalble]

in general i need dnd/bg3 fans to maybe use their fucking brains regarding Githyanki, Duergar, and the Deep Gnomes. Like hm weird that every time we have a race/subrace who's primary feature is a prolonged history of slavery we also want to establish that they're weird and evil and will use that freedom for malicious ends. Weird that this idea is lodged real deep in the cultural cranium enough that we have to do it like three different times. if the lore is racist I think maybe we should just ditch the lore

[littlemourningstarr]

Introductions (And New Beginnings)

For once, a visit to Lolth's Cradle doesn't feel daunting, but renewing. And even if Sekh is there with a purpose, it is still pleasing to see old friends again.

Read below or on AO3!

Pairing: Astarion x Transmasc tav

Part of the Eternally Yours series!

Tags: Transmasc tav, lots of future plot set up, underage drinking, who gave Yenna whiskey

The streets of Lolth’s Cradle were lively, but in a different way than Sekh and Astarion had last seen. Already there was a more diverse population walking the streets- a steady stream of drow, yes- but the hobgoblin numbers had arisen, and Sekh was silently pleased to notice none of them seemed to be dressed in the drab clothing of slavery he had previously seen. Duergar still made up a number of roaming inhabitants- but Sekh noticed now a number of svirfneblin- deep gnomes- had joined the ranks, and seemed to be moving without fear.

Next to him, Yenna was glancing around, green eyes wide and dancing at the sights. While Dalyria’s keep was indeed impressive, he knew it wasn’t a drow city- and he had to admit, he had a bit of pride welling in his chest over his girl seeming in awe at his culture.

For all its faults, Sekh still had some pride in his drow heritage.

He rounded a familiar corner, pausing outside the comforting sight of Wriath’s Lullaby. He smiled to himself, before he chanced a glance back at Astarion, who stood just a step behind him and Yenna.

The vampire seemed pleased as well, at the sight of the tavern. At the silent knowledge that within, there were friends.

And next to him, Dalyria was looking with just as much awe as Yenna.

Sekh pulled the door open, stepping in, his little party following. The tavern was bustling wildly- far busier than he even remembered. Behind the bar was a male drow he didn’t recognize, along with another flitting about the crowds, quite audibly checking in on patrons.

Had Dezz and Brindell hired help? Sekh had kept up communication with them via letters, and Dezz had mentioned that the tavern was busier than ever, but she hadn’t mentioned help.

He headed for the bar, just as the door to the back opened- and there was a familiar face. Brindell, with his pale blonde waves shockingly free, holding a rather large parchment and pen, as if he had been taking stock. He glanced up, and the moment he saw Sekh his face split into a huge grin.

Sekh wasn’t braced for him to run around the corner of the bar, to throw himself on him- but he had to admit, it was a lovely feeling. He wrapped his arms around the other drow, holding him tightly, rocking slightly as Brindell pressed his face into Sekh’s shoulder.

When he finally stepped back, there was a rather cute pink to his pale, purple hued skin. “Dezz said you were planning on visiting, but I still always half expect to never see you again.”

Sekh grasped one of his arms. “Never my friend.” Brindell glanced past Sekh and utterly beamed at Astarion, before he noted the rest of Sekh’s party- Yenna, standing at his side, looking attentive- and Dal, looking a bit confused.

“More new faces,” Brindell mused, before he switched from drowic to common, “sorry, I wouldn’t want to keep them out of the conversation.”

And, in nearly perfect drowic, Yenna said with a smug grin, “Don’t worry, I could understand you.” Brindell’s red eyes widened a bit, before he gave Sekh a proud little smile.

“She speaks like she was born here. Better than Astarion, even.”

The vampire scoffed, moving up to Sekh’s side. “Excuse me, I speak perfectly fine, thank you.” The vampire’s mock offense fell, and Brindell hugged him next, clinging just as tightly to the elf as he had to Sekh. Astarion went so far as to reach up, stroke back some of his hair- and Sekh heard the way Brindell’s breath caught.

The poor, easily flustered, precious thing.

“Give me a moment,” Brindell said, straightening up, “and we can talk somewhere quieter.” He moved back to the bar, saying something to the barkeep, who glanced past him, quite obviously taking in Sekh and the group. While Sekh might have expected a bit of morbid curiosity from the drow’s stare, considering his party was definitively not drow, there was only a look of gentle intrigue, before he nodded, and went back to work.

Brindell moved back around the bar, gesturing for the group to follow him. Sekh had expected that they might move to the back room, make the descent to Brindell and Dezz’s living quarters-

But instead they moved for the door, leaving the tavern completely. They crossed the street, approaching a cozy black stone building, which was built directly against its neighbors. Brindell fished out a key, opened the door, and gestured for the group to step inside.

The moment they were inside, the sounds of the city seemed to fall away. Faintly, Sekh could still hear the commotion on the streets, if he tried to listen- but inside it was the gentle tick of a clock, located off in another room- and from the set of stairs that faced the door, the melodic sound of music.

“Business has been good,” Brindell said, before Sekh could ask. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “We finally got a real place, instead of just the basement of the tavern.” He paused, a sweet, content smile spreading across his lips. “Never honestly thought it would happen.” He cleared his throat then, nodding towards the stairs. “Dezz is upstairs. She’d be royally pissed if I didn’t bring you right over to her.”

Sekh didn’t doubt that. He began up the stairs, the group following, the sound of music growing slightly louder. It was a soft melody, something soothing that sat in the background, could cradle the thoughts in one’s skull. It was coming from an open door, and when Sekh peeked inside, he found Dezz sitting at a desk, a mess of papers and parchment spread out. The music was coming from a little music box next to her- obviously enchanted to play an endless loop while it was opened.

“Hello stranger,” Sekh said. She tensed, before she turned- and the tension melted away. She grinned, drawing lines along her mouth and red eyes, before she shoved her chair back and stood up.

Sekh entered the room, moving right to her, accepting an embrace within her well defined arms. Gods, the muscle felt harder than the last time he had seen her. She was solid under his hold, warm- and he found it easy to relax against her.

When he stepped back, he took her in- she had chopped most of her pale blonde hair off, so it sat in messy waves along her temples, some strands curling behind her ears. But otherwise she had those same red eyes, that seem stark smile, that he remembered.

“It’s so good to see you,” she said, grasping his arms, squeezing at his biceps. She paused, her smile turning wicked. “Why you feel solid. Have you been hauling your little vampire around over your shoulder?”

“Why does everyone assume I’m the one carried around?” Astarion asked, sweeping properly into the room and right up to the two.

“Because you’re built like a prince from one of those haughty, lewd novels that should be carried over the threshold of every room.” Astarion scoffed, but accepted the hug Dezz offered him- making a rather undignified, surprised noise as she hoisted him off his feet and actively spun around once, to prove her point. Once she had set him down, she glanced at the two new faces- Yenna, properly in the room, looking at her with excited eyes- and Dalyria, a few paces back, just beyond the door frame, where Brindell was now leaning, the drow grinning. “New faces?”

“This,” Sekh said, gesturing for Yenna to walk up properly, “is our Yenna.” The girl grinned, offering a full half bow- and Dezz, to her credit, gave a mock gasp and clutched at her chest.

“Charming.”

“I try.” Yenna said it with such ease that Dezz glanced at Sekh.

“Drowic?”

“She was a better student than Astarion.” The vampire frowned. Sekh turned towards Dalyria, switching to Common. “And this is Dalyria- Astarion’s… sister.” He paused, so Dalyria could give a little wave. “I haven’t yet gotten to teach her or any of the spawn undercommon.”

Dezz folded her arms, studying the new vampire. “Still wild to me that just a few days east there’s a whole hoard of vampires.”

“Your common is so smooth,” Dalyria said, stepping closer, quite obviously relaxing now that she knew she could communicate. “Have you been to the surface?”

“Not even once,” Dezz admitted. “Brindell and I taught ourselves in case the chance ever arose. But honestly, things have been good since little Sekh here helped overthrow the last house matron.” She jabbed an elbow into Sekh, who couldn’t help but smile. “We may never even need to.” She moved away then, shoving some papers around on her desk and hopping up onto it, sitting comfortably. She gestured to her chair, and Dalyria took the invitation, settling herself neatly.

Yenna hopped up onto the other side of the desk, kicking her legs a bit, not even hiding that she was trying to read any of the words scribbled on all of those papers.

“You’re here with a purpose,” Dezz said, “so spill it pretty boy.”

“I want to introduce Dalyria to Vrynelle.” Sekh placed a hand on the back of Dalyria’s chair. “The spawn have built a little world for themselves, but I think it might be good for them to interact with others.”

“I don’t disagree,” Dalyria said, “but I fear letting them loose in a city without some assurance that they won’t be immediately hunted.”

Duzz hummed. “Listen, we see every bit of life in this city- honestly, even more now that Nendra is dead- may her soul rot in the demon webs.” Behind them, Brindell snorted a little laugh in the doorway. “Vampires would be less unusual than just surface dwellers.” Dezz's face softened a bit. “But I imagine they are your family, and I understand wanting to protect them.”

She glanced back for a moment at Brindell, before turning her attention back to Sekh and Dalyria.

“I’ve meant every word in my letters, that Vrynelle has been good for this place. There was a bit of a tense transition period when she suddenly broke up the slavers selling on the streets- but that gave room for the rest of our city to flourish. Case in point- we have a home that isn’t under the tavern.”

Sekh appreciated the assurance. Dezz had spoken quite highly of Vrynelle in all of her letters, but ever since leaving after Nendra’s death, Sekh hadn’t spoken a word, written or otherwise, to the current house matron. He had nothing to go off of but his friend’s words and his gut.

But his gut had told him to continue trusting Vrynelle.

“We don’t have a lot of extra room,” Dezz said, bringing Sekh back from his thoughts, “but you’re all welcome with us. I promise it is more comfortable here than over the tavern.”

Sekh wouldn’t have cared if they had all been sleeping on the floor back in the basement of the tavern- he was just excited to be among his friends again.

*

Sekh noted that the guards outside the Duskryn house seemed less sullen than they had, upon his last visit. One wasn’t even a drow- but a stocky duergar woman, who was actually chatting with the drow standing at her post.

Sekh walked up the steps, and they paused their conversation, taking him in. He gave a half bow with an easy smile, offering up before they could ask, “I don’t have an appointment, but I was hoping the house matron might have time for a… friend.”

The drow studied him, before her brows shot up in recognition. “You, I remember you.” She stepped closer, but Sekh noticed her body was relaxed. “You helped take out Nendra.”

Sekh offered a bit of a cheesy smile. The drow didn’t seem upset at him for it, which was a good sign. “I may be guilty of a bit of political uprise, yes.”

The duergar snorted, giving a deep chuckle. “He’s good in my book if he got rid of that annoying twat.”

“Gerryn,” the drow groaned, yet she didn’t disagree. The duergar just waved her off.

“Let us check that she’s available. Wait right here- and try not to cause another insurrection?” Sekh gave a nod, and the duergar stepped inside, leaving him with just the female drow guard.

“I expected a bit more of a hostile welcome,” he admitted. The drow leaned against the large halberd she was holding, looking almost aloof.

“Gerryn really wasn’t wrong- Nendra was a twat to put it nicely. I don’t serve the house because I feel some fealty towards the Duskryns- it’s a job, at the end of the day. And Vrynelle is quite an improvement.”

Sekh was relieved to hear it- he had wanted his gut to be right about the other drow, but he knew better than to put full faith in it.

The duergar reappeared quickly, a hobgoblin behind her- one that Sekh recognized. He had been present during his last visit- had been one of what he presumed were Vrynelle’s personal slaves.

He was dressed far differently now- even boasting a pin with the house sigil on it. He grinned when he saw Sekh, motioning for him. “The lady will gladly see you.”

*

The door was opened for Sekh and he stepped in. What had once been Nendra’s office was now filled with vibrant works of art- the mess of maps that had been along the wall replaced with paintings. Various flora were settled in vases and pots around the room, offering a number of pulsing lights.

And sitting at the old desk, pen in hand, working at a stack of paperwork, was Vrynelle. She looked much the same- her white curls free about her shoulders. She was dressed almost plainly in drow aristocratic sense, not boasting any of the showy bits of armor Nendra had worn, as if the previous matron had needed those around her to think she was some great warrior.

Vrynelle pushed her chair back as the door shut, leaving Sekh alone with her. “I almost didn’t believe it was really going to be you,” she admitted, standing to her full height- still shorter than Sekh, but the heels of her boots added an additional inch. Before Sekh could speak she crossed the room, briskly walking to him-

And tossing her arms around him. She embraced him tightly, and Sekh returned it, before Vrynelle leaned back, studying him.

“But gods be praised, it is you.” She gestured towards her desk, and Sekh followed her, perching on the corner of it as she settled back into her chair. “You could have written.”

“I figured you’d be a bit busy. Running a city doesn’t just happen overnight.” Vrynelle flashed a smile.

“No, it doesn’t. But I assume you’ve had someone updating you on how it has been going- and making sure I’m not becoming my sister- Lolth take her.” When Sekh didn’t answer, Vrynelle added, “I’m not asking for names, Sekh’met. I am just beyond sure that you have other contacts in the city. That is your business, not mine.”

Sekh saw no point in denying it.

“I also presume this isn’t a social call- although I must admit, a social call would be quite welcome.” Vrynelle paused, added, “It’s still quite lonely here, even without Nendra’s shadow consuming me.”

Sekh felt almost bad, in that moment, that it wasn't. It had seemed fairly obvious that Vrynelle hadn’t had friends, when Nendra had still lived. Friends would translate to allies, and that is something the late house matron would have not tolerated, Sekh was sure

“It’s not,” he admitted. Vrynelle gave a little nod. “But perhaps after, it can be.”

“If you’d trust having a glass of wine with me, I would be forever in your debt.”

Sekh had to smile at that. “Promise not to poison me?”

Vrynelle laughed at that, tipping her head back. “Swear it on this city. You’re not my type, Sekh. I only like women- and the consenting kind.” She stood up then, heading for a side table and flipping over two glasses. She lifted a bottle of wine and filled both quite full, carrying them back and offering one to Sekh. “And I have a feeling I’m not your type, either.”

Sekh took the glass, the wine a very light color, like pale sun. A dry white. “Believe It or not, despite my devilishly handsome husband, I have bedded plenty of women.”

Vrynelle’s eyes seemed to dance at the mention of husband, but she didn’t push. She raised her glass in a silent toast- to what, neither specified- and Sekh took a sip of the wine. “Speaking of, where is Astarion?”

“Off in the city, causing mild trouble I’m sure.” Sekh had considered bringing his entire entourage to the meeting, but in the end ultimately decided it would be best if he spoke to Vrynelle alone first. “I have a proposition for you.”

Vrynelle arched a delicate brow, taking a healthy drink of her wine. “Proposition? Look at you, being political.”

Sekh snorted. “Hardly. Look- Astarion’s family is here in the Underdark. His sister runs a keep with over a hundred vampires. They’re isolated, and I think they could benefit from purpose.” When Vrynelle didn’t interject, Sekh continued. “Many of them had trades they were skilled in. They’re growing resources they don’t need themselves. Resources perhaps the city might need.”

Vrynelle glanced at her wine, and Sekh watched her upend it, downing the rest. She stood, walking back to the side table, refilling it. “You’re asking me to welcome vampires into my city?”

“Yes. They’re in control of themselves, Vrynelle. They’ve been free of their former master for years. If they couldn’t control their hunger, they were put down.”

Vrynelle leaned against the small table, looking into her wine. After a moment, she sighed, sounding resigned. “I think before I knew you even I would think this a disastrous idea. But frankly, if you trust them… I want to.” She turned her stare back up to Sekh. “I haven’t truly trusted someone in so long, it’s freeing and terrifying. Just to be clear.”

Sekh offered her a soft smile. “It’s a good feeling, to trust again.”

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”

“I am.” Sekh stood from the desk, didn’t bother launching into any tirade regarding his experiences over the past years- how he hadn’t trusted anyone aside of Syl until the Nautiloid had stolen him away and thrust him into a whole new world, a new life- with people who reminded him he could trust, with his whole heart, his whole being.

Vrynelle gave a second, more dramatic sigh. “Fine,” she said, “bring in your little vampires and I’ll welcome them with open arms.”

“If you’d like to meet one, I can arrange that. I promise she’s a treat.”

Vrynelle gave a sly, playful smile, nearly purring, “She?” And Sekh, he laughed.

“Yes, she.” Sekh set his glass down, offering his arm. “Allow me to escort you, mistress.”

Vrynelle took it, and Sekh felt a bit of calmness coming over him- that his gut had been right, to trust her.

*

Sekh had been right that his party hadn’t strayed much into the city- but had simply moved back across the street to Wraith’s Lullaby. By now the tavern was bustling, teeming with patrons. Brindell was running about, from one set of patrons to the next, while Dezz stood with her hands on her sturdy hips, eyeing the work of the bartender that Sekh didn’t know very closely.

When they stepped in though, the chaos seemed to calm down for a moment- heads turning to openly stare at Vrynelle. Yet Sekh didn’t feel as if it was in fear.

She smiled, a practiced, pretty one, and gave a little wave, before curling tighter to Sekh’s arm. And just like that, the tavern resumed its rowdiness. Had that been Nendra, Sekh was sure the tavern would have burst with many trying to get close to her, to earn her favor.

He didn’t think anyone needed Vrynelle’s- it was just freely given.

He could see Astarion, Dal, and Yenna at a table off in the corner, and escorted Vryenlle over. Astarion was in the middle of raising his cup to his lips when he saw them, and lowered it, grinning wide enough to show off his fangs. “Your majesty,” he teased, as they neared, Vrynelle reaching for a chair and settling down without much grace, body going loose as if she found it relaxing to be in the vampire’s presence.

Sekh presumed she did.

“Your grace,” she taunted back, giving a bow of her head. Sekh could see her eyes gleaming, and Astarion chuckled. Sekh could tell he was still guarded, as Sekh himself had been- but less so than if they were with a stranger. “Back to stage another coup?”

“Do we need to?”

“I hope not.”

“Good. Grand.” Astarion picked up his glass, giving a little wave between Vrynelle and Yenna, and the girl leaned her elbows on the table, looking at Vrynelle with these large, adoring eyes. She had looked at Dalyria in a similar way- as if she was seeing magnificence for the very first time.

Sekh wanted to laugh. His Yenna had a type, it seemed.

“I’m Yenna,” she said in her ever perfect drowic, “ignore Astarion. He’s an ass.” Astarion reached over with his free hand, messing with her short hair.

“A human speaking drowic? Today really is a day to remember.” Vrynelle glanced at the cup Yenna had in front of her. “What are you drinking little one?”

“Whiskey.”

“What?” Sekh glanced from Yenna to Astarion, as the vampire finished off his wine. Yenna had begun drinking wine on the occasion, and Sekh wasn’t naive enough to think she and her friends didn’t get into trouble- but to just be openly drinking whiskey, that had to be far stronger than any she had snagged on the surface, was a new level of brass.

“Dezz said it had tongue of madness in it. You grow a lot of those, so I figured it was fine.” She picked up her glass, downed the rest of her two fingers of whiskey and grinned. “It’s pretty smooth.”

Sekh tipped his head into his hand, while on Yenna’s other side Dalyria looked on- quite obviously not understanding anything being spoken. He’d have to give a proper introduction to Vryenelle for her, offer to translate. But it could wait- he was fairly sure he needed to sit down.

Astarion reached out, curled an arm around Sekh’s waist and pulled him onto his lap, happily nuzzling into the warm skin of his neck, still boasting little bruises and healing cuts from their tryst a few nights prior, in front of the spawn. “You’re going pale, pet.”

“You just let Yenna drink like that?”

“She was going to irregardless of what I said. At least she has good taste. I do believe you offered this same whiskey to a man we drained utterly dry, years ago.” Astarion dragged his lips against Sekh’s skin, and the drow knew he could smell the blood, beneath his healing cuts. “Quite a lovely set of memories.”

Sekh shifted slightly- he couldn’t argue that, but if Astarion thought he was going to completely distract him, he was quite wrong.

*

The night had been a success, he had to admit. Vrynelle seemed rather at ease with Dalyria- kept stealing little glances at her when she spoke common to the rest of the table, as if she wanted to memorize the way her lips and tongue could form the unknown words.

Sekh would set up a plan to teach the spawn undercommon. He couldn’t stay in the Underdark to teach them, but he could start, at least. Maybe find whoever might be the fastest learner and offer to teach them, so they could then share the knowledge.

There was another option, he knew- two very trusted friends who spoke common quite well and he was sure could teach the spawn. But he couldn’t ask Dezz to step away from her tavern- it was everything to her, the only more important thing was probably Brindell himself.

And Sekh felt guilty at the thought of asking to separate them.

Sekh shifted, arms folded across his chest, leaning against the tavern as Vrynelle lit a long, elegant pipe. The two had stepped out from the now quite rowdy tavern. The smoke that rose from it was earthy, a hint of mint- without much thought, Sekh rambled off a few various mushrooms as Vrynelle inhaled.

On her exhale, she laughed. “Clever as always. You know, there’s always a place for you here, if you’d like.” She took a long drag, and when Sekh didn’t answer, she gave a sad smile, the smoke seeming to escape through her teeth. “But I can tell by the look in your eyes that isn’t what you want. What then,” she paused, took a step closer, so close that Sekh could smell her perfume, “do you want?”

Sekh opened his mouth to speak, to claim it was exactly what he had done- he’d checked on the spawn, he’d made an introduction to further enrich their lives, he’d visited friends-

But there was something else, something he felt perhaps Vrynelle could help him with.

“When you transitioned, did you do it on your own, or with help?” Vrynelle paused her inhale, moving the pipe from her lips. “Because I was alone, and gods below I probably did some real harm to myself.”

“There was a family physician- she… assisted me,” Vrynelle admitted. “But why? Even if you’re concerned about what harm you may have caused, you’re quite obviously fine now. I’d argue more than fine.”

Sekh smirked- he couldn’t help himself, “I thought I wasn’t your type.”

Vrynelle laughed, holding her pipe out to Sekh, who took it, inhaling. The mint was a rush to his sinuses, but made his head feel achingly clear. “You know what I mean.”

Sekh exhaled, handing it back. He did, he was just stalling. Because this was a personal leap, a level of trust he hadn’t been sure he was ready to give her yet, but he didn’t know where else to turn- “I want to have a child.”

Vrynelle choked, coughed as she exhaled, leaning over. Sekh reached out, gently pat her back, before she straightened, looked at her pipe, and pinched out the smoldering end with her bare fingers. “I’m going to need something stronger than this.” She stowed the pipe, seeming to compose herself. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

Sekh nodded. Yenna was growing faster than he had ever been ready for- and he had wanted to wait, yes- but a part of him was almost anxious, felt like perhaps the waiting had happened already, at this point. Besides, it would take time to figure everything out-

Gale was still hunting for information on Astarion’s own concerns regarding fertility, with Vette’s help- Sekh couldn’t just wait until they had answers before he moved to figure out his own.

“I can write back home,” Vrynelle said then, “I’m not on bad terms with the larger House- if anything, my overtaking Nendra put me in better standing.” That didn’t shock Sekh- even if Vrynelle was humane, unlike her sister- she would still earn respect for upstaging her older sister, and taking the city for herself.

Sekh smiled. It was all he could ask for.

Vrynelle inclined her head slightly, studying Sekh. “I guess you and Astarion would make beautiful little babies.”

Sekh laughed over that, reaching out and shoving her without much thought- as if she wasn’t aristocracy, but just another girl, just another friend- just another somebody who had struggles and pain that mirrored his own.

By the way her face cracked into a grin, it was all Vryenlle had ever wanted.

[lunastrophe]

Like many I wanted to thank you for this blog. Ever since playing BG3, I've grown fascinated with drow. Some of the lore I read about them feels cartoonishly monstrous, though, and I'm admittedly a little uncomfortable with all the slavery that I don't know how to play one in a proper D&D campaign. Is there a way to tackle this sensitively/better without watering down the drow (or the Underdark for that matter) and making them into something they're not?

Hello and thank you for reading! 🙂 I agree, in some sources - especially older ones - drow often seem over the top evil, although even in those older sourcebooks, it was already stated that not all the drow are evil and chaotic.

🕷️ Drow And Slavery - lore-wise, many Underdark societies - drow, duergar, illithids, aboleths, beholders - are slave-owning societies.

Lolth-sworn drow are typically focused on individual advancement at the expense of others - not only non-drow who they consider to be inferior, but also other drow. The concept of innate freedom and equality is utterly foreign to them. They are taught that the strong are meant to rule the weak, and that the weak exist to be exploited or to die. The presence of slavery in the Underdark drow societies is, in a way, a consequence of this grim worldview.

This worldview, on the other hand, is closely tied to the Way of Lolth - although it may be also connected to the fact that Underdark is an extremely dangerous, often deadly environment where survival of the strongest is usually a thing.

🕷️ Not all Lolth-sworn drow keep slaves, though, even if they do not oppose slavery. Many drow, especially commoners, cannot afford to buy and keep a slave. Groups of drow adventurers, mercenaries or small military squads also generally do not keep slaves or servants.

🕷️ There are also drow societies that do not support slavery and these are mainly Eilistraean. Followers of Eilistraee are forbidden to take slaves and they often actively oppose enslavement in its many forms, fighting the slavers and freeing the slaves.

🕷️ Also, I imagine that in the Underdark, there are drow who do not support slavery by matter of choice or alignment, not necessarily in connection to any particular culture or faith.

Such individuals could be outcasts, mercenaries, adventurers, scholars, artists, merchants - maybe even former slaves (to other denizens of the Underdark, like illithids, for example).

In the Underdark, there are - usually small and secluded - communities where freed slaves seek refuge. Drearing's Deep from Neverwinter Nights: Hordes of the Underdark can be an example of such a community. They are often inhabited by surfacers or deep gnomes, but there can be also some drow among them.

🕷️ Not long ago, Aevendrow and Lorendrow were also introduced to the D&D universe, two factions of "good" drow who rejected Lolth. They do not live in the Underdark, though, but in secretive enclaves: Callidae in the North (Aevendrow) and Saekolath somewhere in the southern jungles (Lorendrow).

🕷️ So, to sum things up, it is totally possible to play drow who does not support slavery, or even a Lolth-sworn drow who simply does not rely on slaves and does not keep them.

There are several established drow-inhabited locations where slavery is not present at all - but if you want to, you can also create such locations and incorporate them into your game without straying too far from the established lore.

You are also free to use the existing lore only as inspiration and, for example, create a setting in which slavery does not exist (anymore). Underdark drow society in such setting could, for example, forbid slavery because in the past, series of slave rebellions nearly destroyed many drow cities - and in result, keeping slaves was deemed too dangerous.

Hope you will find at least some of this information helpful in some way 🙂

[haemosexuality]

about my tav, phynn (who is kind of a self insert):

phynn is a drow that was born in the underdark and raised by a lolth sworn family. after trying several times, she successfully escaped her city when she was 76. since then, she has been moving around a lot- living in areas of the underdark that are very near the surface and dont have many drows (she doesnt mind the deep gnomes and duergar), but mainly in the outskirts of surface cities, including of course Baldur's Gate. it took her almost a decade to get used to the sun

she is a thief, and a very good one. shes had odd jobs here and there but she makes most of her outcome by straight up stealing whatever she can find and then selling it. when shes in big, rich cities like Baldur's Gate, she does a looot of burglary. breaking and entering is like her favorite hobby. she also had to get very good at fighting, both bc of the whole drow thing and bc of all the criminaling

by the start of the game, shes 183 years old, having been living in and around the surface for just over 100 years. in a human au she would be like 24

PERSONALITY AND OTHER FACTS:

her morals are contradicting and alll over the fucking place. that is because i am not good at role-playing and will just do whatever the fuck but in universe is because she was raised by very hardcore lolth worshippers and then spent the next century mostly by herself and getting by by stealing. not a lot of time for things like developing a well established and stable moral code. id say shes chaotic neutral, but with a good heart?

her journey throughout the game at first made her better, she tried to be a good person, and then made her worse because that is a lot of horrible things that happened to her and all her new friends and she is this close to snapping and having a breakdown. also shes killed more people in the last like 4 months than she has in a whole century and that will for sure change a person for the worst. shes become very apathetic and just so goddamn Tired. she didnt sign up for saving the whole world she just wanted this damn tadpole out of her head so she could continue to sell stolen jewelry!!! fucks sake!!

as part of her total off the rails mental breakdown she also became a chronic kleptomaniac. she was a thief before sure but that was just like, her job for her, now its a real compulsion. her raiding everything and everyone she sees and its starting to worry the other companions. this is inspired by me going to GREAT lengths and doing everything i can to steal literally everything i see until i realized i really didnt need to be doing that i have so many shit in my inventory and like 30 thousand gold. then i started feeling bad for these fictional npcs that are not real people and are not important to the story whatsoever because everyone here is so poor i dont need to be stealing but i truly cannot stop. normal behavior

she actually misses some aspects of the underdark. she liked how pretty (and less sunny) it was, and the food. shes not lolth sword but shes not seldarine either, she just kind of doesn't care. obviously shes not a fan of drow culture, but she still gets pretty pissed when surface ppl start talking shit

she is a rogue! she also has some levels of fighter but i just got that for gameplay reasons.

shes dating karlach in denial she doesnt know if she wants to try to convince her to go to hell so she can live, or just accept her wish to let her die. this is inspired by me crying real life tears over this fucking character. also astarion is her bestie they gossip together

not much else to say about her personality shes literally just me if i was given free will to be chaotic insane and kill people

uhm when she met astarion she didnt realize he was a vampire at ALL she assumed he was an albino drow. he ran with it until she woke up to him almost biting her while she slept (canon game event). this is inspired by a comic i saw

APPEARANCE:

eyes: because she was born to a lolth sworn mother her eyes are naturally red. i also gave her cat pupils because that looks cool to me it makes sense that drows would have pupils that can better adjust to lack of/light like that i mean they live underground!! because she is me tho she cant see shit. she used to have glasses but they got lost early in the game in a battle to which she was just blind as fuck and had to be babysat by the other companions. that lasted less than a tenday (dnd week) tho because:

her right eye got Volo'd, and the glass eye volo gives us to replace the one he plucked out is Magic, and not nearsighted! she started covering her left eye with an eyepatch since, because having one eye that can see perfectly and one that cant is awful and confusing. when she doesnt wear the eyepatch, her left eye is always squinting

the glass eye has round pupils, so her pupils are different now too!

she dyes her hair different colors. with the power of Magic and Fantasy Hair Dye. tho her natural hair color is ofc white

has vampire bite scars from astarion. they have an agreement going on where he can feed off of her every few days. people are baffled that its not sexual (astarions traumatized ass included)

she bandages her chest because i cant imagine a worst curse than having to run around and fight and climb mountains with a large chest

[tadpolejourney]

Day 24

I'm actually contemplating returning to the githyanki creche and killing them all. They won't stop hunting for the artifact, and they're likely to find out we have it eventually. I think a preemptive strike will help keep our path to Moonrise clear. We can also retrieve the Blood of Lathander. Not sure how supportive my companions will be of this... I haven't let anyone know I'm thinking of returning yet. The only person who really wanted to go in the first place was Lae'zel. I think she's the only one who would be supportive of returning. She really sounds like she's been brainwashed when she talks about this stuff, and I feel bad for her. I also don't know how to effectively counter any of her 'truths', because I don't know enough about her queen, her history, or her culture.

We took a boat across the lake, to Grymforge. There are a bunch of duergar occupying the outer ruins, some Absolute cultists, some not. They're keeping the Ironhand gnomes as slaves, just as Thulla said. We freed one Ironhand gnome from his slaver already. I'm hoping to free the rest soon. There's a True Soul, a drow called Nere, trapped in the rubble and Ironhand slaves are trying to dig him out before it's too late. I think a hell of a fight is waiting for us to free the gnomes. Barcus is stuck here too. He called me the mascot of his ill fortunes. Thanks, buddy.

I haven't really had time to think about Gale and I. And by that I mean, I am avoiding it because now he's thinking about blowing himself up to destroy the Absolute and it hurts too much to think about. Besides, my feelings haven't mattered this whole time. Why should they matter now? The short answer is that they don't. More important things are happening, and I can't act on my feelings anyway. I am okay letting it fade into the background for now. Better that than keep hurting over it.

I think he can tell I’m avoiding him. I struggle just to meet his gaze when we talk business (and lately we only talk business). I wonder if he knows why, or even wonders about it at all.

I'm choosing to focus on fixing what's going on here instead. It's easy to distract myself from romance too. After all, I'm surrounded by death, destruction, and despair all day, every day now.

Plus, I'm grateful for all of my companions and I don't think it's fair to just focus on him. So much of my attention has been on him this whole time. The relationship I have with my allies is unlike anything I've ever experienced. Something between friends and family? I think so long as we survive this, we will be friends for life.

<<< Day 23 | Index | Days 25-26 >>>

[whats-your-initiative]

Some things I've noticed as someone who keeps rolling new Tav's Act I (I'll tag this as spoilers but a lot of this is stuff that was in early access)

Bard seems to have a few extra opportunities for gaining approval, there's a bird building a nest you can convince to sing that nets approval from Astarion and Shadowheart if I am remembering right. You cannot do this as a druid, unless my game glitches.

You can comment about the metal quality of his shines as a dwarf though ha

Druid automatically knows that the right of thorns is bad news, and has several dialogue lines about it. There's even an extra cutscene where you are straight up told most circles do not survive the right and to look for extra evidence because Khaga's story doesn't add up.

You have a lot of dialogue options as a druid to try and save Arabella with a lot of different arguments. I was a bit surprised at first, but I think the game really wants to hammer home (especially if you are someone who would know better like a druid) just how WRONG and abnormal Khaga's actions are for a druid.

Speaking of Khaga, she's got a lot of respect for Drow and Duergar and their culture. Seldarine drow have the option to protest they're not one of Lolth's, but if you're a cleric of Eilistraee a dialogue line about how you worship her instead will replace it. Interestingly she respects this too because you must know "how to survive" or something along those lines. I haven't tested anything with deep gnomes yet, but I wonder if since she respects Drow and Duergar so much if she'll look down on them?

You can just offer to heal the absolute cultist without needing to roll for it outside the owlbear cave as a cleric of Eilistraee, which makes me want to test what other gods will let you do that or if it's tied to me choosing the life domain. Or hey maybe it's just something you can do as a cleric no questions asked.

I'll add to my list once I make more progress on those Tav's.

[adndmonsteraday]

Duergar, also known as gray dwarves, or underdwarves were a subterranean subrace of dwarves. They carved out an existence in the Underdark, often near volcanoes. Their kinship to other dwarven subraces could be compared to that of the drow to surface elves.

Like other dwarves, duergar were typically thick, stocky figures, though beyond this there were many differences. Both male and female duergar were typically bald, with females also lacking the capacity to grow facial hair. Many were also thinner than their dwarven brethren. Most obvious, however, was their dull gray skin and hair, often matched with an equally stolid expression. Regular dwarves said they had flat heads, possibly as an insult.

Tyrannical, grim, industrious and pessimistic, the lives of the gray dwarves were bleak and brutal. Rather than a flaw, however, they viewed their lack of happiness as their greatest strength, the defining feature of duergar pride. The duergar saw themselves as the true paragons of dwarvish ideals compared to their weak and pampered kin, but in truth, their ways were a dark reflection of those found in normal dwarves.

Duergar were, as a whole, generally cruel and malevolent creatures, but as in most evil races this was as much a cultural affectation as a psychological trait.

Duergar would often ferment fire lichen into their alcoholic beverages, to create a hot and spicy drink.

Source: https://forgottenrealms.fandom.com/wiki/Duergar

[ttrpg-smash-pass-vs]

The duergar, surly and dour dwarves that were mutated by mindflayers. About 4-5 ft (1.2-1.5 m) tall, they're distrustful but loyal and hardworking. They live quiet lives working thier ass off but taking no pleasure from it. They can see in the dark, can turn invisible, and can double/half thier size for a minute! The mindflayers may have ripped out much of thier emotion, and their usual culture takes pride in suppressing what's left outside bitterness, but joy is in there!

[dailyadventureprompts]

I was thinking about Duergar after listening to Critical Role S1. I don’t care too much for the blatantly evil brush they used but I still want them to be antagonistic. Reading the Explore D&D article on them I took that and looked for inspiration. I thought a blend of the paranoid police state of Stalinist Russia with the political intrigue and back stabbing of imperial Rome. Vast underground cities of brutalist architecture. A culture of conformity, order and a nihilistic outlook. Atheist philosophy cults of the forge or other practical oriented ideologies. Power by any means is a virtue in this society so mages and warlocks are also prevalent. Holidays and celebrations are scheduled well choreographed events. Individuality is scorned. Even hair styles and clothing are limited and enforced by literal fashion police. Gulags are kept well stocked with routine purges of dissidents and a thriving slave trade. All this keeps their cities nearly impenetrable but also undercuts their expansion. Trade with the outside does exist but it’s extremely bureaucratic. They make FANTASTIC concrete.

Footnotes on Foes: Duergar

The problem with the grey dwarves is that they're a little too close to their surface world counterparts compared to the other underdark Wario fantasy races. There's a literal night and day difference between elves and drow , humans and grimlocks, and to a lesser extent gnomes and svirfneblin, but if you looked at surface dwarves (traditionalist, work in metal and stone, warriror culture) there's really nothing all that different about the Duergar other than a grabbag of magic powers and the Duergar being SUPER assholes all the time, while surface dwarves are only assholes some of the time.

I’ve tried a few different versions of the duergar in my writing including mercenary legions of migratory exiles hunting through the underdark looking to conquer territory, and willing collaborators and footsoldiers for illithid colonies, but I think this ask specifically gave me something cool to work with: A focus on Psionics is what ahould seperate the duergar from regular dwarves, with the totalitarian state described above ramped up to its fantasy world extreme by the fact that the secret police can read your mind, and if they can’t find evidence of thoughtcrime they can use mindfuckery to put it there.  The social conformity is seen as a way of detecting rebellious thoughts as if they were social contagion.

This also gives the grey dwarves a distinct aesthetic that is separate from vanilla dwarves: Crystals, be they shaped into weapons or architecture or floating about the heads of psionic casters, which goes to supplement their already textual psychic powers. As an added means of differentiating them, talk about how duergar metalwork is shit, soldiers wearing slave-foundry pig iron while their commanders wield elegantly carved sceptres of nightmare infused rock.

Also, just to have a bit of fun, have the duergar low-key anxious about the existence of the sky, to the point where many of them believe it's a myth made up to scare them as children.

Hooks:

Despite the draconian control they keep over their own populace, the rigors of living in a realm of ever shifting stone require the Duergar to utilize numerous means to secure the territories around their grim cities: Fortress outposts built to control passage in and out of their cavernous realms, psionicly propelled vessels of iron plate that prowl great tunnels like levitating battleships, treaties and client-state contracts with rival and subjugated creatures set up as buffers. Travelling through underdark controlled by duergar is a different sort of dangerous then normal travel in the below.

Escaping from prison before she could be lobotomized, a powerful psion has made it to the surface world with a gang of fellow thought-criminals, working as mercenaries using their unusual skills and eventually forming a rivalry with the party.

The earth writhes. A series of violent quakes cause damage in several cities across the kingdom, setting off numerous small disasters and the appearance of subterranean monsters that'll keep the party and the powers that be busy for weeks. When the cause is eventually determined, it's discovered that in a hunger for more pisonically charged crystals, a duergar warlord has awoken a primordial which now thrashes against its restraints and shakes the world as its pained excavation continues.

Art

[cedastarions]

one of my Tavs - Y E M R E:

Hailing originally from Creche K'liir, Yemre was born in the same hatchling brood as Lae'zel but promptly removed from her creche and sent to a training school for Vlaakith agents. A top student in her class, Yemre was sent out on missions for Vlaakith and the crown as soon as she was of age and infiltrated armies, civilizations, courtrooms, and noblehouses using her skills in disguise and deception.

As her journey continued, Yemre met countless wonderful individuals and was forced to kill many of them for her queen. Over the years she began to grow tired of turning her back on people whom she had grown to connect with, though she desperately tried to stay cold and distant from her targets as all githyanki should be/. It became even more difficult as she continued to spend more time with other cultures and less with her own as her missions dragged on.

Yemre eventually started to question the motives of her queen and wonder how any of what she was required to do was beneficial to her fellow githyanki. In her youth Yemre was taught that the Gith peoples were most intelligent, strongest, deceptive, and were otherwise the superior being of the universe. But through her journeys she met countless wizards who were more powerful with magic than her own people, barbarians and half-orcs with the strength of 10 githyanki, and vampires and duergar who could disappear into the shadows as if they were born from them.

While on a mission for her queen, Yemre became distracted by these doubt filled thoughts and lost her touch. Strolling through the streets Yemre was caught off guard and captured by a mind flayer who tortured her mind for information on her queen and prior missions. The nautiloid soon arrived and snatched her up, infecting her with a parasite and changing her life forever.

After the crash, Yemre chose to put her faith in fellow gith Lae'zel who she is unaware is a broodmate, Shadowheart - a gith sceptic, and Wyll. Along their journey Wyll teaches Yemre more about his people and she sees the beauty in the land of Faerun with his guidance. He teaches her to dance, and eventually to love.