#firewine

[loulouhattie]

Sequel - ish to the firewine kobolds debacle.

According to google: ‘Seriso’ is drowish for ‘lover’, and you can bet thats what Finn calls his boyfriend

Safe to say, Astarions a bit less tolerant of Finn’s shenanigans, ESPECIALLY if his wine is a casualty to it

[csphire]

Just drop Firewine barrels and give them all a wink. I'm sure they wouldn't question that.

"It's for a celebration... it will be oh-so fun. Don't drink it just yet."

i keep hoarding barrels in act 1 solely for this fight in act 2

[dnd4adults]

Tales from the Great Library

Session Zero: Quid fit in balneis...

Beyond the Great Library's public gate lies the wide-open Court of Air, with the nearest structure being one of the oldest in the city. Practical as everything else here, it's simply known as the Bath & Steam House, and those who enter are greeted by the nymph-like form of Lavis.

The Androsian Empire recognized her as goddess of hygiene, who bestows the blessings of health and long life -- so, the logical mistress-protector of baths both public and private. The wisdom of that imperial practice, at least, is well-maintained in the Great Library, where Lavis' ancient image oversees the baths, and is usually mistaken for an aspect of Lady Lore. She, too, encourages regular hygiene as a matter of reason, not ritualized worship.

It is difficult indeed, maintaining the practice without its tradition, so the Bath & Steam House serves today as a place for social gathering, just as it did under empire. Everyone associated with the Great Library, from wisest masters to humblest penitents, are rendered equals here, when they're naked before the goddess. By day there's an herbalist or two on-hand, providing curatives, salves, and remedies, barbers to aid with grooming and minor surgery, a musician plucking a lyre, and those skilled in massage to ease hunched shoulders and bowed necks.

A large, communal sink occupies the back of the house with a pedestal holding the statue of Lavis in its middle. Six smaller sinks lie in orderly columns before this wide pool. The three on the right are steaming hot sinks, with changing rooms filling the wall beyond. The three to left are cold sinks. Arched doorways to the steam rooms are also left, beyond the cold sinks. Heavy canvass "doors" cover these openings, containing heat and vapor.

Night of the Vernal Equinox (Day 1):

Following a sound drubbing in combat practice that early afternoon, Sir Andros made the mistake of riding out, as well, down to the harbor whilst the very man who laid him low sought a captain sailing east. Returning late to lodging, the pair proceeded to dine together then on to the baths, washing away the dust and stench of Alkehandir, and to sooth sore-battered muscles. Andros skipped the bracing plunge into a cold sink, however, opting rather for a cushioned table and oiled rub-down-with-happy-ending from Squire Dorrik.

The fellow who delivered his earlier drubbing, Khazpar Batal, feels badly about Andros' bruised flesh and pride, yet the man was overly persistent, even in practice. He proved good as his word, even so, accompanying Khazpar to the harbor afterward, delaying the evening meal and rest, while searching for a captain willing to carry Khazpar's letters homeward. The baths are not unlike those he knew in his homeland, in fact, so Khazpar still "reclines" in a hot sink, turbaned head braced on the rim, contemplating the statue of Lavis – and the naked ogre directly beneath it.

Preceding both men (and squire) in the baths tonight, the ogre wears a large pair of spectacles pinching his bulbous nose, a shining band of gold upon his head, and holds a book seeming tiny in enormous  hands. A celebrity within the Great Library’s community -- Hyram Hoole gave him the nickname "Little One" -- the ogre soaks in the communal sink, reading whilst leaning against Lavis' pedestal.

The place is quiet at this time of night, the only sounds the steady trickle of water flowing into and out of the sinks, Sir Andros’ grunts of distress and relief, and the turning of regular pages in Little One's book . . .

. . . all broken to smithereens when Hyram Hoole and Brother Teddy cast the house door wide and stagger in, rip-roarin’ drunk!

In fact, Teddy received his formal ordination that afternoon -- new-made Brother of Lady Lore, at least, so Hyram insisted they spend the evening celebrating. Between the two of them they've consumed the entire bottle of eastern wine Khazpar offered Teddy in congratulations for his achievement. The half-elf and halfling have already been tossed out of the House of Rest, for raising commotion, and while they proved popular, indeed, singing bawdy halfling songs at The Hearth, the tavern was so roasting hot so the fully loaded pair decided a bath would help cool them down.

They aren't simply drunk, however, but sweating profusely. Already half-undressed as they burst in, Hyrams already down to his trousers while Teddy's peeling off his robe, for that was not mere wine Khazpar offered but anabith anaru, which in the Common Tongue is rendered "firewine." Made from the fruit of a desert plant and infused with dragon's blood, despite the name firewine is intended to be consumed sparingly; sipped by the dram, not tossed down in greedy mouthfuls. So, the half-elf and halfling are dripping from to an accidental overdose of dragon blood. If the toxin isn't purged quickly they'll burn to death from the inside out!

Fortunately, both Khazpar and Little One are well aware of firewine's danger, and the swiftest means of averting it: Complete submersion in cold water. The fiery effect of metabolizing dragon blood is diffused completely in cold water, ironically saving victims from immolation through near-drowning. Those suffering overdose exhibit an instinctive and violent fear of all things damp and cold, however, refusing to touch let alone submerge themselves in water that isn't steaming. Doing that only accelerates their agonizing end, however, leading to explosive combustion in 2d4 rounds!

Resolution

With the revelation that Hyram and Teddy drained an entire bottle of firewine, roll Initiative for all PCs and two NPCs

Dorrik will secures the house door and guard it.

Little One will calls advice, only resolving danger if PCs fail.

Khazpar cannot act on his knowledge of firewine’s effects until his turn in the Initiative order.

Andros, prone on a massage couch, must spend half his movement getting to his feet before acting. He is also well-oiled, so effectively covered by grease.

Teddy and Hyran are Heavily Intoxicated -- +5 on Cha checks but Disadvantage on Int and Wis checks, plus a -3 penalty on attacks and saving throws.

All PCs and NPCs are effectively naked and weaponless, so base AC and Unarmed Strikes, only.

Initiative — Teddy | Little One | Dorrik | Hyram | Andros | Khazpar

ROUND 01 Teddy: Stumbles to the nearest hot sink, still undressing (Dex 17) and does so without falling in; stands naked on the brink, ready to drop in. Little One: Annoyed by the ruckus, but keeps reading. Dorrik: Hurries to and closes the house door, shutting out a draft. Hyram: Finally naked aside from the wine bottle, tries to push Teddy in (Hit 16 succeeds; Strength -2 v Teddy 2 fails) but his hands slip off Teddy's sweaty butt cheek. (Dex 16) Hyram manages to keep his feet under him, but still staggers aside under his own momentum, to the edge of a cold sink. Andros: Watches the pair making fools of themselves. Khazpar: "Anabith anaru? Not the entire bottle!" Pushes up and out of the hot sink (Athletics 9) but slips getting traction, costing all movement getting out. "Quickly, Sir Andros! Subdue them!" ROUND 02 Teddy: (Perception 6) takes no notice of the shouting and plunges in -- 5 rounds to immolation! Little One: "You better get him outta there! He'll immolate if you don't!" Hyram: (Perception 3) steps back from the brink to look about. "Oh! Hullo there, Little One! Didn’t see you, at first. What're you readin' t'night?" Andros: Half-movement, rising from couch, then 15' toward Hyram. "You there! Cease this knavery!" Khazpar: Jumps back into hot sink, grappling Teddy to haul him out. (Attack 7 misses.) "It is made with dragons blood! They have overdosed!" Round 03 Teddy: Decides he dropped in the wrong sink and pushes up, directly into Khazpar's arms. "Well, hello. Is it lesson time again, I hope?"" Little One: "Cold sink! You gotta douse them in a cold sink!" Hyram: (Perception 5) "That’s what I’m doin’! This is a cold sink!" Andros: Runs up to grapple Hyram and (Attack 12) misses. Khazpar: Grapples (Advantage, willing target) and hoists Teddy (Attack 18, Str 14 no resistance) using all movement to carry him out of the hot sink. Teddy Reaction: Kisses Khazpar! ROUND 04 Teddy: Still kissing, not gonna stop. Little One: "Oh, you'll never catch Hyram like that!" Hyram: Darts between Andros’ legs and slaps him on the ass (Attack 17) leaving a small red handprint. Andros: Spins about to tackle Hyram bodily (Attack 20 Natural) directly into the cold sink! Khazpar: Kisses back while crossing to and dropping into the same cold sink. ROUND 05 Teddy: Struggles (Str 10) but can't resist Khazpar's hold (Str 13). Little One: "Hold tight, fellas! They're gonna fight!" Hyram: (Dex 22) wriggles free of Andy's hold (Str 12) and pops up, sputtering. Little One Reaction: "See?" Andros: Grabs Hyram's ankle (Attack 17) and hauls him back down. Khazpar: Holds Teddy down as the cold sink grows suddenly hot.

ROUND 06 WHOOSH! Metabolizing dragons blood is successfully neutralized, but a steam mephit manifests over the now-hot cold sink. It flies off at once, attacking the biggest threat around: Little One! Teddy: (Str 14) breaks free of Khazpar (Str 13) and pushes up, sputtering. Dorrik: Gapes and points at the mephit. Little One: Ray of frost hits the mephit. Hyram: Knees Andros in the crotch (Attack 19) and claws up, choking and thrashing. Andros: Holds himself and groans underwater. Khazpar: Grabs Andros (not resisting) and hauls him up, for air. ROUND 07 Steam Mephit: Attacks Little One again, missing. Teddy: Casts shield of faith, protecting Little One. Dorrik: Takes two steps, points and gapes again. Little One: Casts ray of frost and hits again. Hyram: "Burnt dumplings! Why’s it foggy in here?” Andros: (Con 13) casts magic missile but the mephit remains! Khazpar: Shouts to Dorrik, "Open! Let heat out!" ROUND 08 Steam Mephit: Turns from the frost-flinging ogre, for the miss-casting wizard! Teddy: Invokes word of radiance but the mephit is untouched. Dorrik: Opens the house door and begins "fanning" with it. Little One: Cast a final ray of frost, dissipating the mephit. As it dissipates, four men are doused with hot rain, taking 1 hp damage, each. Hyram: Yelps, panics, and nearly dives headlong into a hot cold sink (Dex 18) but realizes at the last instant and holds, on toes. Andros: Continues groaning and holding the family jewels. Khazpar: Lay on hands all around (Teddy returns a healing word.)

Fortunately, none of this commotion raised attention from the Court of Air, so the incident passes unnoticed -- with the exception of Little One. Hyram and Teddy are now dehydrated but fully sober, and otherwise none the worse for wear. Little One, however, is very cross with these antics, stomping naked to the door and muttering:

"Quod fit in domo balneum ad domum balneum!"

After he makes his way out, Teddy translates for the others' benefit:

“What happens at the bath house stays at the bath house.”

[songofsoma]

in case you wondered how the goblin camp went

[shevour]

the gang after watching illyra dye every article of clothing she owns black : perhaps some color ? illyra : perhaps not .

[beefy-fridgers]

finding out that the weight reducing effect of the chest of the mundane was in fact a bug has absolutely devastated me :(

[angremlin]

It took a million tries with tiny adjustments to get this to work. Fun fact, if a bottle breaks on a ledge, there is a very low limit to how far down it will try to spread the surface

[firewins-the-fangxrl]

Glass Onion looks into your soul and says that when you’re facing an unfair enemy who’s protected by privilege and more money than any one person should own take the fucking low road and burn it all down

And I for one think that’s a beautiful message

[willpowers]

[blubebbie]

> Shadowheart: Show off new friend!

you hold up your excitable new friend to lae'zel, she seems incredibly irritated by this action! you can't imagine why!

> Karlach: Open the barn doors.

oh god. you really didn't mean to intrude… but now that you are, it is becoming increasingly more and more difficult to look away!

> Karlach: Save Astarion!

thank the hells you had this barrel of firewine on you to put him out. he'll be fixed up in no time!

==>

OH GOD HOW CAN FIREWINE BE SO FLAMMABLE

> Wyll: Calm down Karlach.

pt. 1

[mistercrowbar]

Astarion just has no appreciation for the amount of prepwork Aldiirn puts in to make his sneak attacks flawless. u_u

Every time I go through the goblin camp I make it a game to see how much Astarion can do solo without aggroing the whole camp. It does mean meticulously sabotaging the war drums, which makes me SO peeved that killing Ragzlin auto-aggros the whole camp anyway. Like, I’m sure the sound of firewine and smokepowder barrels exploding is also pretty loud, but it’s different, okay???

[dhampling]

the sunwalker's gift gn!reader, 3.3k

“What is all of this in aid of, anyway?” He asks in a lazy drawl, seemingly unbothered. “The adventuring stuff. Do we have a destination yet?”

inspired by this ask where the reader finds a ring - after a lot of searching - that allows astarion to walk in the sun, and proposes with it. enjoy! wc: 3.3k cw: none. gn reader, fluff, all good stuff. no use of y/n. like one vague reference to sex. that's it. liberties taken with the idea of the sunwalker's gift.

Tardy.

“Here then, yes?”

A gentle dirt path carries to the town boundary, the marker one of dry wood and old brandish. Windows of amber; smoke rising to the stars, a biting chill settling on the ground as gateclose approaches.

You turn the map in hand to compare against the settlement before you.

“Think so.”

Astarion takes your arm in his, leaving the map hanging free in his wake. 

It takes all the will you can muster not to take his hands in yours and spin him in some sleepy glee-bound whirl in the sheer ecstasy at the thought of what you have planned - instead pulling each other something ragged down the slope in a half-step, half-cant; giddy at the thought of Firewine by a fireplace as your breath clouds the air foggy past your heads.

You’re in a position where - maybe for the first time since the Netherbrain fell - you can see the end. 

And it’s close. Ridiculously close. 

You want nothing more than to drop and do it now. Knees muddied in the dew-thickened dirt clod and breeze heavy with frost under the big pale moon - teeth chittering, looking up to him;-

Gods. You can picture it. His eyes hooplike with uncertainty, the one last drip of doubt teetering on his tongue - is this some kind of cosmic joke? - a quiet whisper under his breath, a little tilt of his head. Hair rippling in the moonlight. A moment of mutability as he reconciles all you are, all you’ve become together. That there’s a future in which sincerity is all he knows moving forward.

No.

Before morning, for sure.

-

The gate welcomes you in one last waning breath as the guards head to their watch turrets until dawn, and it takes a minute to truly come to terms with civilization once more. Your eyes flit to each of the little flickering lanterns and candles in windows; to the railings adorned with browning vines and disused terracotta pots.  

It’s been months since you and Astarion have been somewhat settled anywhere. Since the Absolute fell and you set off for adventures beyond anything you or he could ever imagine. Navigating the Underdark together, treading darkness above ground; wherever, it wasn’t of any real importance. You’d find lodging where you could, eat with whoever welcomed you; and you did it together.

Of course, your ulterior motive has managed to remain a secret. From clandestine discussions with the Society of Brilliance all the way back to the Gate; to fevered exploration in the deepest chasms of Sembia. Nights spent looking over the ferryboats on the Sea of Fallen Stars and discussing so many different futures the two of you could live. 

He is completely disarmed and unsuspecting at your side. Radiant. Hopeful. The world is changed and he wants to see every bit he passes with eyes wide open to good fortune.

“A town called Tardy? Really?” 

He sneers.

You shrug.

“It has a fun ring to it. Tardy.”

The word bounces on your tongue as you taste the mull-soak set between your teeth. 

A wordless mission to stave off the chill now has you settled fireside in the closest inn with mulled Glowfire. The clock ticks and there’s lively chatter a little behind you in the main tavern room.

“The Scoundrel's Cellar, though. Now that’s a good name.’

He takes a small sip. 

‘Why Tardy?”

You turn your head to him with a tight quirk of your upper lip.

“You’re asking me why?”

“Not really.’

Astarion looks at you and smiles.

‘It’s just… nice. To be able to talk at such leisure like this, I think.”

His cheeks are ruddied by the lashings of wind, the hint of a twinkle in his eyes as he reveres you. Hair a little unruly in the mop of curls atop his head but still unbelievably well-kempt for a man who's been on the road for months now. Lost wholly in his sheer exuberance, his joy in living despite the lack of a pulse. His chalice is close to his chest as he warms his hands.

You daren’t linger on your own appearance, thinking a silent prayer that the bathroom has a mirror. 

It’s a long moment before you reply.

“Yes! Yes. Absolutely.”

He throws you a quizzical glance but the smile doesn’t leave his face as he shifts to look down at his drink.

“I sometimes picture having a fireplace, you know. How-’

A brief pause.

‘How nice it’d be to sit by it, on an evening like this. Home.”

Astarion stretches a palm outward to the flame and closes his eyes, basking in the scalding heat. Amber shades. Pallid skin a perfect canvas.

“What would you be doing, by the fire?” You query softly as you watch the gentle flickers of his hand, outstretched.

“I- I’m not sure.”

Something resembling a coy smile creeps onto his face, overrun by a timid quiet uncharacteristic of your long-term lover. You lean over to him and take his nimble fire-warm hand in your own. A small kiss planted firmly on the hot skin.

“Go on.’

The willing smile on your face as you egg him on, chin to palm. He tilts his head coquettishly. 

‘What do you see in that beautiful head of yours? Because I can see it now - a sitting room full of tapestries and hangings; all of your design, of course. Patchwork blankets. Big comfy seats.”

“Ugh. Fine. Yes.’

Any ill-mannered jest fades almost immediately as he looks into your eyes and beams once more. He is safe here. He knows it.

‘I’m thinking big seats. Maybe-’

He brings his arms out wide.

‘Maybe this big? Possibly bigger? Somewhere to lounge, naturally.’

His hand finds yours in the low light once more, a tentative clutch as he maps out the vision in his head. 

‘Soft carpets on stone floors. Incense - none of the dull stuff though, darling; only pure patchouli - and… and lanterns with glass of all colours, so the room glows with light constantly.”

“So we’ve set the scene. Then what?”

Astarion rolls his eyes at you fondly.

“And then… I don’t know. A little cat on the cushions. Books, papers scattered on the carpet as despite the fact we have those big comfy seats; I’m not seeing myself to be inclined to move Her Majesty.”

“After the cat at the Last Light?”

“The very same. But I want a girl cat. Boy cats feel… weird to me. Cats are girls.’

He grimaces and waves his chalice-hand.

‘Anyway. Her Majesty on the lounger, me on the floor. I’m drawing up patterns early into the morning. Big, thick shutters over the windows; but it doesn’t matter because the lantern light is so vivid, and you;-’

There’s a feather-soft look to him when he does look at you.

‘Oh, you.’

You become aware of him drawing small circles with his thumb, eyes unmoving; unblinking. 

‘Always you. My love. Should you decide to join me in long-term domesticity-’

He plants a kiss on your hand as you did his. Your stomach is pure cream as you listen, nodding slowly with lids of honey.

‘Then you. Everywhere. Beside me on the carpet, laughing in that delicious way you do. Astride me in our bed -’

You smirk. He looks at you a little deviously.

‘Well, not just bed. Anywhere, really.”

“Is that what the loungers are for?”

A small grin.

“Maybe.’

You gesture for him to continue with a knowing grin.

‘Anyway. Yes. The future. Us. A townhouse somewhere in the Gate.” He sips slowly while pondering.

“What about younglings? You were fond of Yenna.”

The wine erupts down his pale chin in shock, eyes like saucers.

“I’m sorry?”

“Children.” You repeat, holding his gaze with firm affection. 

He moves to laugh but there’s a wavering indecision in the way his brows crease.

“Is that even possible?”

“I don’t know. But if it is?”

He stops to think for a moment when the call for Grand High Lord Supreme General Admiral Ancunín - his favoured travelling name - comes from the frazzled barmaid at the front of house to signal your rooms are ready, and all discussion overruled by the fact you’re both bone-weary beyond belief.

As your hand moves to your pocket, you feel it.

Sequestered away in the little velvet box you bought from the Night Market months ago and kept for this. 

Later.

-

Hours on and you’re settled. A small room with an adjoining washroom - modest, but surprisingly comfortable; and just as you’d hoped, there’s a balcony. 

Astarion lounges on the bed with a large leatherbound book, looking fondly at you from time to time as you busy yourself with your recent findings, taking inventory and stashing bits away in their respectively labelled bags of holding.

“What is all of this in aid of, anyway?” He asks in a lazy drawl, seemingly unbothered.

“What?”

“This. The adventuring stuff. Do we have a destination yet?”

“No, not in particular.’ You turn to look at him over your shoulder.

‘Why? You’ve not been bothered before?”

“And I’m not now. But I am curious.’

He grins devilishly on the bed and flips the book closed, placing it next to him and sitting straight - legs crossed. 

‘What’s the plan, lover?”

“Who says there’s a plan?”

He’s got you right where he wants you. 

You feel yourself becoming giddy again - heart wholly aflutter. You’re aware that he’s attuned to the regular pitter-patter between your ribs and despite the conscious attempt to regulate yourself back to calm; you almost want him to find you out this way. 

“Nothing. I’m just wondering where we’re - well, wandering. It’s beginning to feel a little aimless”

There’s a moment of silence, prolonged as you fiddle further with your trinkets.

“I-’

You reach for the box in your pocket and run a thumb over it reactively.

‘I’ll tell you later. I promise.”

He looks at you with a curious furrow, trying to eke out a little more information in the quiet din but you’re wise to it at this point in your relationship. You simply yield into his glance with a pleading smile. 

“Okay. Okay. I’ll leave it with you. But I do expect answers!”

You heave a sigh of relief. He’s definitely picked up on it.

Once all of your spoils are packed away you take a trip downstairs to purchase more wine and request a bath to be drawn - after all, you’ve been on the road with rivers as your only source of cleanliness for gods know how long.

There are nerves. Of course there are nerves, small pins prickling from within and setting you ablaze with each new thought of him beside you for life, threads weaving a rich tableau life together. Lilting violins and piano sonatas. Finery for days. Some small townhouse, just as he’d described it downstairs. 

But you found the thing you’d set out to find on your adventures. Where you head next is entirely up to the both of you.

Provided he says yes, that is.

You imagine the worst possible rejection he could give you - “No, darling. Let’s keep things as they are for now.” - and yet the thought of him calling you darling in that syrupy murmur is rousing enough to keep you afloat. 

The bath is tepid, door open whilst Astarion watches from the bed between pages.

“More wine, love?”

“Please.”

Calm. Rain on the thatch roof. 

He perches on the side of the washtub, one leg crossed over the other as he passes you a glass full of red. Hums absent-mindedly as he swirls the perfumed waters with a dainty hand. 

Your mind drifts to the ring. How beautiful it’ll look in place.

He looks at you with that curious glint in his eye, and you roll your head to the back of the tub in an attempt at meek avoidance.

“Pretty.” He quips. 

You laugh quietly.

“Hm?”

“You. Pretty. Hair all mussed like a siren. A vision.”

He lifts your wrist from the water and kisses the back of your hand a few times over, while you squirm in jest. He only retaliates by kissing you harder with a fiendish giggle. 

“You’re one to talk.”

The lantern by the mirror lights the tips of his curls from behind. Angelic.

“Yes, I am beautiful. So are you. My darling.”

It must be late now. Maybe late enough.

As you lift from the water - assisted by your lover’s hand - and enrobe once more, you feel it.

Now.

-

Astarion begins his usual routine of light-proofing the room and blocking the shutters as the threat of sunrise looms on the horizon.

Well. Light.

The rain doesn’t show any sign of ceasing.

Nonetheless, you feel ready. A habit you can’t wait for him to break, checking the shutters for cracks.

“C’mere.” 

He turns to you and looks you over.

“Hm?”

“Come here! Please! I’ve got something for you and it simply can’t wait any longer.”

The box is light in hand, soft. You’ve checked it multiple times for the ring and all is in place.

The way he steps to you is cautious. Catlike.

“Is this the thing? Is it finally time?’

You pull him in next to you on the edge of the bed, taking both hands in yours.

‘I can see that little box. Hopefully a trinket worth the hours of agony I’ve endured waiting for you to reveal your secrets.” He grins, pulling you in for a gentle kiss.

You don’t say anything, freeing one hand to take the box.

“This is-’

A sharp inhale.

‘This is it. Wherever we go from here, it’s mutually agreed. All of it. But this is what I’ve been looking for, hence my leadership skills taking forefront again.”

“Don’t tell me. It’s a Bracing Band!’

You shove him gently and he giggles, reinforcing his clutch on your hand. 

‘Okay, okay. I’m done. Show me.”

He waggles his fingers around your palm and grins expectantly. Gods. You rip the bandage off and open the box to him.

He’s seen a picture of it before - it’s in one of his books, that’s where you got the initial idea - but you know he hasn’t read it or he’d onto you weeks ago.

And he doesn’t recognise it. 

“I- What is this?”

A gentle whisper as his eyes run over the golden rays cast with aged enamel. 

“A ring.’

Astarion’s death glare takes a new form, this time wholly inhibited by the uncertainty in his frozen hunch.

You stand and spin to a kneel on the floor in front of him.

‘A special ring. Really, really special; in fact.’

Plucking it from the velvet, you hover the band over his fingertip.

‘Firstly though. Marry me?”

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so completely and utterly shocked. 

Mouth firmly agape as red round eyes attempt to scan yours for any sign of deceit, jowls trembling a little in the yellow lantern glow. A small gulp as his lips meet once more.

“You picked an inn called The Scoundrel's Cellar, in a town called Tardy, in the middle of a thunderstorm; to propose marriage to me?”

“Had to be here, had to be now. Couldn’t wait any longer. You’ll understand in a minute, I promise.’

You rise a little to cup his jaw in hand, sinking into a chaste kiss. 

‘Astarion Ancunín, will you marry me?”

“Gods!’

There’s a brief tremor as his lips wobble, then a practised breath as he speaks. One hand reaches for your flushed cheek to mirror the gesture. 

‘Of course I will, you brute. Maybe you could’ve done with a better choice in ring, of course; but I can learn to love it, I’m sur-”

“You are beyond insufferable, Astarion. Kiss me right now.”

The immediately resulting kiss is brimming with yearning. A cup full to spilling as he takes the ring in your hand whilst you put it on him. 

He hunches all the way over to meet you on raised knees, grabbing at body-warmed bedclothes for one another; tenderly, in peals of quiet laughter between breaths and silent shouts.

“Wait. I’m not done.’

He’s giddy now, too. Knee bouncing. 

‘There’s a reason it had to be that ring.”

“It’s hideous, pet. Give me a reason to love it.”

You spin to your feet and to the furthest shutters, opening them a slight as he watches on in guarded curiosity with the biggest smile lingering on his face. 

The first hint of light. 

“C’mere.”

“You’re bossing me around an awful lot today, my darling betrothed.”

The weight of the moment is colossal, ocean deep. Despite his sheer joy he won’t come willingly. The burns from the dock the day the Absolute fell were molten for weeks and you still both have night terrors ringing loud with the sound of his agonising yells. 

A gentle hand extends to him. 

“The Sunwalker’s Gift.”

Then it clicks. Slowly. The final puzzle piece.

“No. Surely.”

“Yes.”

“It can’t be.”

“It had to be.”

“What if it isn’t?”

“Then we have a wedding to plan in the Underdark. But I wouldn’t traipse across the realms on just an inkling, you know.”

“I know you wouldn’t.”

“Well then.’

Your hand waits expectantly, fingers mimicking his waggle.

‘Just a finger. Please.”

He sits on the bed, spinning the ring mindlessly; before he looks at you with a resolute nod.

“I’ve trusted you with far worse, all things considered.”

Astarion approaches slowly and meets your hand, interlinking your ring fingers together and waiting for your word as you position yourself within the light.

“On three?”

Three arrives and nothing happens.

Hands raised, fingers lit in a single low beam of early light. Frozen.

“Astarion? All good?”

He moves your hands wholly into the light. Nothing. Twists the tangled fingers as if examining for damage. Rain careens into the window.

“I- Yes. Yes. All good.”

Dumbfounded.

You erupt into a bubbling grin, pulling him to the balcony doors and planting another soft kiss onto bewildered lips. Looking to the worn bronze handles with a brief head tilt.

A simple, overwhelmed nod. Brows knitted together in a milky daze, mouth slack. He looks like he’s going to collapse. 

The doors edge open and you cautiously step to lead him by arm.

Nothing. Not a single sizzle, no cinders. Forearm, arm, body; head.

No tug on your hand as he races back indoors. No wretched cries of pain nor gasps of hurt.

It’s a few seconds before he speaks. The sun now burns bright enough to see the streets below with razor clarity.

“The rain. My- my hair-’

Barely above a whisper.

‘Looks perfect. As it always does.’

Your eyes don’t leave him. Not once. He’s completely floored, gazing into the middle distance mindlessly. 

‘Love, sit.”

You gently tug an iron-wrought balconette chair over to him and help him to find purchase atop it amongst his overwhelm.

“I- I love you. Thank you.”

“Anything. Anything for you.”

He shakes from his haze once wet through, lightning on the horizon awakening the Astarion you recognise best. Closes his eyes with a soft smile.

“You’re going to catch your death out here, you know.”

His grip on your hand is vicelike, clutching it to his chest with zealous reverence.

“Then we’ll have to have a hot bath later. Right now though, I think a celebration is in order.”

You free yourself from his grasp for two moments, barreling back inside for the last of the wine and the large bedsheet. You place both chalices on the iron table and sit beside Astarion outside in fits of laughter whilst wrapping the sheet over both of your heads. He snatches your hand back and kisses it for an age. Devoted.

“To Tardy?”

He lifts his chalice in his free hand, and you do the same in yours.

“Tardy!”

[invinciblerodent]

my plan.... has been set in motion

........... do we think my computer is also going to explode, or............

so I have.... a plan

do you think 41 barrels will suffice, or should i like. get more

or somethin

[forgeofthenine]

If you're still interested in requests (feel free to ignore, since you've got a lot of 'em!)

How would everyone's favorite tieflings react to their Tav *not* being at the tiefling party, because they've ended up spending the night keeping the tiefling kids entertained in Mol's hideout? Celebrating with them, having fun and goofing off with the kids (and making sure Mol isn't trying to exhtort who she can, by selling firewine around the camp by doing so)

Bonus points if s/o is a bard class~

(2) Asfgghkkkl I was the ask for the s/o/Tav who spent the tiefling party just playing with the kids - I (maybe) forgot to mention that I had the idea of them doing it secretly, or like, getting stuck escorting Mol back because the kids!!! Want to see the hero too!!!

Hi Anon, thank you for the great request! This one was a blast to write and I really enjoyed it, I hope it's what you were after :)

For anyone wondering, this was the WIP referred to as 'adopting all the kids'

The bachelors finding you in the kids cave at the grove instead of at the party

General

The party was just starting to ramp up, making your rounds and catching up with everyone when you see it from the corner of your eye

A small tiefling with a cunning grin and an eye patch sitting on a rock at the edge of the clearing

Sneaking off to the edge of the firelight, with only a sideways glance from Halsin, you finally reach Mol

It really didn't take long for the girl to convince you to leave the party, her threat of upselling stolen firewine was almost enough convincing on its own

The two of you make your way back to the familiar cave that the children like to hide in, cheers being the first thing that meet your ears as Arabella and Mirkon happily rush up to you

The other children stay back but look excited in their own ways, Silfy peeking out behind a blanket wrapped around her, Mattis turning his attention towards you, and Doni letting out a small grunt in greeting

With some light begging from some of the kids (and some egging on from Mol and Mattis) it's not long before you pull out your instrument of choice and start your own party for the group of children

It might've been minutes or hours you were there, you're not sure until you're interrupted

Dammon

Dammon had no intent on going to the party, not only is he not a particularly social person but he also has an entire makeshift forge to pack down

It's when he's stuffing his things into a pack that he sees you and Mol sneaking back through the grove and into your hidey hole

At first he chalks it up to the kids shenanigans but he grows curious at the sound of music emanating from the crack in the wall

Dammon is actually pretty quiet when he starts to make his way down the very tight, very craggy tunnel

That is until he slips and slides the rest of the way down, tumbling out covered in dust and letting out a small cough

The silence is absolutely deafening

"So this is where the real party is? Hope you don't mind me... Dropping in-"

The pun was bad enough for Mol and Mattis to want to kick the blacksmith out but you're quite happy to defend him

Soon he's joined your little group of rascals and you've scrounged him up a drum and the two of you are serenading the kids with a very one of a kind concert

It's only once all of the kids have finally fallen asleep that the two of you clamber your way back out of the cave, Dammon helping to dust you off afterwards

Dammon himself is stuck thinking about how good you were with the kids and how unexpectedly nice the night was, but he knows tomorrow they all get back on the road and he might never see you again

Zevlor

Zevlor, to no one's surprise, had been standing off to the side near Halsin when you left

Ever the wallflower in social situations, he'd seen you sneaking off with Mol

Knowing how much of a handful those kids are, Zevlor decides to go find you both soon after

He's spent this whole time letting the children believe he had absolutely no idea of their secret hiding place, but Zevlor isn't blind

Zevlors careful with making his way down the rocky tunnel, listening to the music that slowly fills the air

The paladin is so quiet in his descent that no one actually realises he's there until he claps at the end of your performance

The kids are all quick to scurry away, except for Mol and Mattis, and it's up to you to try and convince them to let Zevlor stay

It takes a fair bit of convincing but it ends with the two of you regaling the kids with stories of wild adventures

Those stories include musical interludes too at the kids instance

Once all the kids have fallen asleep, curled up around each other or lying on large stones, you and Zevlor make the rounds covering them all with blankets

It's when Zevlor is helping pull you back out of the cave afterwards, feeling the warmth of your hand against his, that he realises how alive you make him feel and how effortless it is to be around you

Rolan

Rolan had spent most of the night drinking and putting on magic shows for his siblings

At some point in the night you'd come and given him applause but the next time he went to look for you, you'd already disappeared

It was Lia that pointed him in the right direction, mentioning you'd gone back to the grove

And so a tipsy, affection-starved wizard decides to stumble his way back to the grove to find you

It's both the sounds of music and the light bleeding through the cracks in the stone that draws him in

And if you think Dammons entrance was grand, Rolans is grander

Accidentally sliding down the last part like a surfer before quickly using his magic to make sure he doesn't fall flat on his face

Of the three bachelors, Rolan is the only one able to convince the kids to let him stay by himself

Showing off a little extra magic helped somewhat

It's then that the kids insist you both entertain them, putting on a join concert/magic show

For Rolan it was like Cal and Lia were little kids again, looking out at the little tiefling faces that are 'ooh'ing and 'aah'ing at the magic firework displays

"Ah, my adoring crowd, if you think that was good then behold this-"

You two made a good duo, bantering between yourselves and some of the kids, and putting on a good show till the early hours of the morning

It's only when the two of you make your way back out of the cave, hauling Mols smuggled wine she was planning on upselling, that you sit at the beach and indulge in a shared bottle

It's then that Rolan looks in your eyes, smiling and fatigued, that he realises how much he wants to kiss you

Whether or not he does is something neither of you can remember in the morning

[cloverthebarbearian]

Happy New Year! It seems requests are still open, so if it isn't a bother I'd like to request a short/one-off Rugan smut fic~ Maybe that back alley you mentioned? 😉. Please and thank you!

Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha oh ANON you rascal!!! This made me go insane :))) but I need to feed the Rugan Fuckers so please. It ended up being much longer than I planned but I guess my ass can't just write 500 words about getting rawed I gotta go into the specifics. ANYways I hope you enjoy what my silly little brainworms came up with for you :)

A Room on Wintershield

Rugan x FemReader, NSFW, 2.3k+ words

"A room for myself - and the lady, if you would, saer," Rugan's voice was husky from the firewine and pipeweed the two of you had been indulging in throughout evening. He slid his coin across the counter without ever breaking his gaze with yours, already undressing you with his eyes. You were pressed against his chest, the feeling of his racing heartbeat betraying his casual drawl. "Ah, terribly sorry, we're already booked full for the evening," the host said with mock disappointment. That cheery, Customer Service inflection implying they weren't very sorry at all. Rugan's eyes finally broke from yours and shot the host a sideways glare, "Then make room. Can't you see we're two wayward souls in… desperate need of lodging?" He pulled you tighter against him. His smile grazing your lips, teasing you with the hopes of a kiss that wouldn't yet come. The host tried to hide rolling their eyes. "Apologies again, sir. We're simply sold out for the night!" they began to mutter to themselves as they turned back to their books, "Good luck finding a room this late on Wintershield." "Oh, piss off," Rugan huffed, flipping the host off before pulling you with him through the doors of the Inn. The fourth one the two of you had tried - and failed - to find a room in for the evening.

The streets were busy with the rest of Waterdeep indulging in celebration. The air outside was chilled, but your earlier imbibements left you both plenty warm. You stumbled over yourself, tipsy and lightheaded, giggling as Rugan held you steady with his arms firmly wrapped around your waist. The two of you had barely made it a block down the street before he had you spun around to face him, kissing you deeply and pushing you against the closest wall he could find.

"I can't believe how hard it's been just to find a place to bed you," Rugan said as he traced his lips across your jaw. You were a mess of moans and giggles as his fingers glided under the hem of your shirt, sliding his hand beneath the fabric to forcefully grab your breast in his calloused hand. Your mouth hung open as you moaned into him, riding your open legs against his thigh. His free hand gripped into your waist, his thumb pushing into the dips of your hip as he ground himself into you.

"You little Nymph," he whispered gruffly, "I may just have to take you right here…" You moaned again, louder, though barely audible outside of the little bubble of yourselves. The festivities surrounding you seem to have hit their peak. Townsfolk just as heady and busy with their own celebrations paid you virtually no mind. However, even in your stupor, you felt exposed in the crowd.

"We can't -" your breath caught in your throat, trying to be reasonable while your body ached for him, "Not here."

Rugan bit at your bottom lip gently, humming to himself as you were practically melting into him, "Lass, I'd feel safe in assuming you'd let me take you wherever the Hells I wanted you," his deep, rugged voice sending a shiver through your spine, straight to your core, "But if you insist… Who am I to not make my Lady more comfortable."

His hand left from underneath your garments, a slight whimper of disappointment escaping your lips at the loss. He kissed you again before taking your wrist and pulling you alongside him into an alley between the busy streets. After just a few short steps, he quickly had you pressed against a wall once more, kissing your neck as both his hands found their way back under your shirt, caressing your breasts roughly. Your hands gripped against his back as you held onto him, eyes fluttering as you glanced out into the busy streets just a few short yards away.

It was dark here, between these buildings, and the party-goer's were ever so slightly muffled now that you had made a bit of distance. It felt secluded, but still dangerous. That danger doing nothing to help with the building warmth between your legs.

Lost in the trance of Rugan's touch against your chest, his lips against your neck - you yelped in surprise as he suddenly spun you to face the wall he had you pinned against. His hands quickly found your wrists to hold tight against the small of your back, your face and chest now pressed between the wall and the powerful man behind you. You could feel the straining length of him pressing up against your ass, and couldn't help but arch your back into him. He let out a heavy groan as his head fell to rest in the crook of your shoulder, kissing your neck deeply as his free hand slid your pants down just enough to cup the curve of your plump rear.

He grabbed a full cheek in his hand, squeezing you tightly, before pulling his hand back and slapping. You let out a gasp as he grunted in your ear, reaching his hand back to spank you once more. Your gasp came out with a moan of his name, and he pushed his still clothed arousal against your bare skin.

"I want to hear you beg for me, Lass," his voice much more composed than his body gave away. A sense of authority and control that made you submit without a second thought.

"Please, Rugan..." your voice was cracking, as if waiting for him had you on the verge of tears. And perhaps it did. You bit your bottom lip as you road yourself against him, desperate for any stimulation. You felt him pull himself away from your shoulder, now watching your pathetic attempts to pleasure yourself against him. He tutted in response.

"I don't know, Sweetheart. Are you sure you really want me?" His free hand spread your cheeks, your cunt so drenched he could see the clear strings of your desire sticking between your folds as he slowly pulled you open. He watched as you twitched in desperation, your body begging in ways he deemed your words could not.

You sobbed as he teased you, sliding his thumb down against your slick, grazing over your clit, before dragging it back up and gently prodding at the tighter hole between your legs. You moaned and your knees nearly buckled, Rugan holding you up by his grip on your wrists.

"Rugan, please fuck me. Please I - I need you inside of me," warm tears were spilling down your cheeks as you heard him wrestle with the ties of his trousers. Suddenly, you felt the hot, thick length of his cock against your bare ass. He slid himself between your cheeks, rutting himself against the warmth of your body easily with your pooling arousal coating him.

You felt him slide against you once more, before the head of his member was now prodding at the entrance of your aching cunt. He leaned himself back against you, his mouth brushing your ear, warm breath hitting your skin and causing you to shiver.

"Anything for the Lady," he whispered, low and heavy, before pushing himself into you. Your cheeks were squeezed tight, your legs pinned together between the wall and his body.

"Gods, Lass, you're so fucking wet for me," he slid himself into you easily, filling your deepest parts. You clenched around him, your walls fluttering as he held himself there for a moment. He kissed below your ear, onto your neck, "So wet… so fucking tight."

He pulled his length out of you, achingly slowly. You felt yourself desperately clench against nothing as he left you, before slamming himself back into you. Harder, with intent.

"I want to make you scream for me, Love," he said, kissing your neck once more, "When I'm through with you, you'll never be satisfied unless its my cock inside of you," His slow and shallow pumping quickly found a rhythm that left your breath catching on every thrust. Your words were lost, all you could find yourself doing was whimpering and gasping, incoherently begging for more of him. Your pussy clenching desperately, your ass bouncing back against him, matching the rhythm of his thrusts.

His hand snakes up your body, eventually finding your throat. He squeezes, holding you in place while he pounds into you. You try to turn your head just enough to see Rugan's face over your shoulder. He finds your eyes and smiles as he fucks into you harder still, "You love how this feels, don't you, sweetheart?"

Your eyes rolled back as you moan. He kisses against your open mouth, "That's right… I feel the way your desperate cunt grips me," he released your wrists from his hand, still pinning them in place with the weight of his body pressed against you. He slapped and grabbed at your ass again, this time lifting your cheek while shifting his hips, opening you up just enough to let him slide into you even deeper than before.

"Ohhhh, fff -" you help your lip between your teeth as his cock hit a sweet spot inside of you. His movements became slow and deliberate, reveling in the new way your body shuddered against him. He kissed your neck, your ear, your cheek, whispering to you all the while.

"That's it, Love. You take my cock so well," he wrapped his arm around your waist, ducking his hand between the front of your thighs and toying with your clit.

"Oh, Gods, Rugan..." You rocked your hips and felt a new wave of arousal crash over you.

"Yes, Love - say my name," he began pounding into you harder, teasing your clit, squeezing your throat, and slamming his cock into you, "Tell me who this tight cunt belongs to - Fuck! - Tell me who the fuck you belong to!"

You felt yourself chasing the high of your release. Clenching around him, you nearly yelled between his relentless thrusts.

"You, Rugan! My body belongs to you, I belong to you -" you felt his speed pick up, desperate for his own satisfaction.

"That's right, doll. You're all mine," he pinched your clit, biting into your shoulder. You could feel how close he was, you wanted him to make a mess of you. He squeezed your throat tighter as he huffed out his worlds, "Come for me, sweetheart. I want to feel you…"

Your body spasmed at his demand, choking out his name once more with whatever breath you had left under his tight grip. Your ears ringing, your vision growing hazy around the edges, stars twinkling across your eyes as you cum with him rutting inside of you.

You heard Rugan let out a deep, grunting sigh against your skin as his cock slammed into you quickly, roughly. Your walls clenching his twitching member as he shot his seed inside. He continued playing with your clit as you both came, causing your orgasm to ride out even longer. The fluttering convulsions of your pussy gripping his throbbing cock, milking every drop of his spend.

He began to still within you. His chest heaving against your back, kissing your neck and shoulder, and rocking his half hard cock inside you to chase the fleeting shock waves of his orgasm. You felt him push himself off of you, freeing your hands at last, your palms slapping against the wall in exhaustion. He watched hungrily as he slowly pulled himself away, his spend dripping out of you. He ran two fingers between your folds, causing you to clench and whine, your body still sensitive to his touch. He leaned back into you, kissing your cheek as he pushed his fingers inside, forcing his seed back into you.

"Don't want this going to waste, Lass," he whispered, tracing his lips and tongue across your jaw. He slide his fingers deep into you two, three, four times, fucking his spend back into your pussy, before pulling them out & bringing them around to your lips. You opened your mouth, desperate and hungry, as he slid his fingers against your tongue, coated in your combined release. You wrapped your lips around his digits, sucking and lapping at the salty mix of fluids. He slid his fingers back out of your mouth, running them along your lips for good measure, before spanking your ass, hard, and tucking himself back into his garments. You weakly took your shaking hands to your waistband and pulled your pants back up from their shallow resting position above your thighs. You could feel your small clothes sticking to your skin uncomfortably, absolutely drenched in your arousal and Rugan's thick release. His hands found your waist again, spinning you around to kiss him.

"Hells below, woman, you are absolutely filthy," he moaned into your mouth.

"Speak for yourself, Zhent," you retorted, clenching his shirt in your fists to keep him held against you. He cocked an eyebrow and a sly grin crept across his face.

"Watch your tone with me, Lass, lest I have to teach you another lesson," he squeezed your ass again, sparking another rolling fire in your stomach as if you didn't just have the most mind blowing orgasm mere Minutes prior.

Above the ruckus of the busy streets, you both started hearing shouting.

"And stay out! Free-loader!" A tavern keep was busy shoving a young man out of their front doors, tossing some half pack luggage behind him, "Come back when you actually have the coin and not some illusory bull-shite!" You saw him toss a handful of copper right into the mans face before slamming the doors behind him. Embarrassed, the young man quickly gathered his things and rushed off. Rugan glanced down at you, and you smiled wide.

"Sounds like some bloke's out of luck for the evening," he grinned.

"Sounds like someone has a room for rent," you teased, grabbing him by the collar and yanking him back into the streets. You ran into the tavern, breathless and wanting. Finally, a place to bed for the evening.

Though you knew neither of you would be getting much sleep.

[gilded-glitter]

tav said he couldn't swim in the firewine barrel