#high elf gem

[fantasykiri5]

Two days late, it’s a Geminitay for day 20 of @hermitadaymay !!

[d4isywhims]

or maybe just to turn you on?

meet soryn! a character i used to rp in a medieval-themed stardoll club 😭

i wanted to practice my photoshop editing so i thought why not recreate an old oc of mine in ts4 and take some screenies :D i still have a loooong way to go, but i'm pretty happy with how this turned out (i did some highlights and shadows, but that was about it lol)

here's a bonus unedited pic of soryn

[viviane-lefay]

Dagan Gera - Portrait

by atomic.cerulean

[vipermenace]

Never showed my High Elf Aasimar! Prince Laurel Riamarth

A multiclass Sorcerer/Fighter!

A very pompous and silly transman linked to the goddess of fate Istus. He went out on a journey to learn about the land around the kingdom with his lover Lancelot, the drow captain of the royal guard.

After Lancelot perished in combat, Laurel begged Istus to bring back his love. Lady Istus declined, and instead told her chosen to save their beloved captain himself, and sent him back in time. Laurel is now stuck in a time loop, desperately trying to save Lance from the clutches of death. His memories reset to a certain point in the loops.

[nerocuga]

Discussing Cedric's influences and Edward Cullen was brought up and I was compelled to draw this scene

Cedric (the Sapphire Dragon) belongs to @hennatheantenna

Inari (the High Elf) belongs to @quasarden

[poshtearexdoodles]

A very belated anniversary pic for the gem dnd campaign, the party as the results of all of the players rolling on a reincarnate table for a laugh.

Most of the chars are doin alright about it. And then there’s Sard. Who has an entire character thing about being insecure about being smaller than she’s supposed to be.

And now she’s like 3ft fucking tall lmfao

[the-parted-glass]

i’d ask these questions for beau but i’m pretty sure i know the answers already, so i’m gonna make you flesh out your boy

2, 6, 7, & 25 for orion?

Wrings hands like a menace.

Love Orion, so Orion is a summer eladrin wildfire druid (as my tav for bg3 he's a moon druid).

2. How much death and/or destruction have they wrought? - A decent bit with being a soldier for the summer court in the ever ongoing war for the wildlands of the feywilds between the Dawn and Gloam courts.

6. How far would they go to save someone they love? Would they sacrifice themselves? Others? - He would go to the ends of the earth to save someone he loves even if it meant his own destruction. He knows his kids are safe with his family. Depending on who gets in the way to stop him they may end up collateral.

7. What's their pain tolerance? - So high, this man has for sure gotten hit with an arrow and done the skyrim of "huh must have been the wind" of not noticing it until someone points it out.

25. Have they tore someone to shreds with their bare hands? With their teeth? - Yes absolutely and we love that for him. Pro tip: don't disarm and corner the man that can become a bear at will.

[canopicgirl]

peepaw again

[quixoticanarchy]

Just realizing it’s kind of strange how the published Silmarillion leaves out Sauron actually finding out Beren and Finrod’s names. Like I’ve seen posts wondering when Sauron might find out and what if it’s not til the Third Age, but in the poetic Lay of Leithian he finds out in Tol-in-Gaurhoth because Finrod and Beren use each other’s real names and he overhears them. It’s already funny that the Nereb-and-Dungalef tactic works on Sauron but even funnier that it finally fails not because Sauron figures it out but because they give themselves away

And moreover, Sauron knowing Finrod’s identity is key to Finrod’s whole death: Sauron’s reaction to learning their names is to say the outlaw mortal’s life is worthless and he can die now, but Finrod will be kept and tortured long beyond what a Man could endure, until Sauron learns the secret of their errand. He also threatens to ransom Finrod back to Nargothrond if his people care enough about him – or suggests perhaps Celegorm will just keep the treasure and not bother. The published Silmarillion just says “…Sauron purposed to keep Felagund to the last, for he perceived that he was a Noldo of great might and wisdom, and he deemed that in him lay the secret of their errand.”

Whereas the poetic Lay has:

“’’Twere little loss if he were dead, the outlaw mortal. But the king, the Elf undying, many a thing no man could suffer may endure. Perchance, when what these walls immure of dreadful anguish thy folk learn, their king to ransom they will yearn with gold and gem and high hearts cowed; or maybe Celegorm the proud will deem a rival’s prison cheap, and crown and gold himself will keep. Perchance, the errand I shall know, ere all is done, that ye did go.’”

And it’s right after this that he sends the wolf to kill Beren. So Finrod essentially is not just keeping his oath to protect Beren but also responding to this threat he’s just received that Beren will be killed and he himself will be tortured to death afterwards. And the irony of course is Sauron could get the secret of their mission from either Finrod or Beren, and it’s Beren, who he wants to kill immediately (and who in the poetic version even says at one point that he’s willing to confess everything to try to trade for Finrod’s life), that the secret actually most matters to. But Sauron immediately discounts the mortal in favor of torturing the elf. Finrod has no stake in completing the Silmaril quest once Beren is dead so it’s a moot point by the time Sauron would discover it. But in dying, he denies Sauron the satisfaction of torturing him and the indignity of ransoming/failing to ransom him. And Beren, whose errand it is, stays alive a little longer. Finrod’s death protects Beren but critically it also denies Sauron what he wants - especially if he thinks only Finrod knew the secret he wants - and avoids a Maedhros-esque fate for himself.

[aylen-san]

A Dance Under the Moon

When Maedhros came to Elwing for the Silmaril, he expected a battle, arguments, and threats. But the offer he received surprised him. With a mischievous smile, Elwing said: "I will give you the Silmaril if you win it the way Luthien did - through song and dance."

Maedhros was stunned. "You want me to... dance?" - His voice trembled with a mixture of confusion and slight panic.

Elwing nodded, her eyes shining. "That's exactly right. If you can enchant me as Luthien enchanted Morgoth, the stone is yours."

Maedhros was about to refuse, but Maglor, seeing a chance to avoid bloodshed, immediately agreed. The twins, always ready to support a merry venture, agreed as well.

"Well then, brother, you have been offered the bargain of the century! If Luthien could defeat Morgoth in a dance, so can you."

Maedhros sighed heavily. "Lúthien was a great dancer. And me? The last time I danced was at Turucano's wedding," he muttered frustratedly.

But Maglor was determined. "Don't worry, I'll help you remember the lessons of our childhood. We practiced for days and nights, and I'm sure you'll still remember how to move."

The next days passed in a training that sometimes resembled a play rather than a serious lesson. Maglor picked up the most difficult melodies with enthusiasm, and as he strummed the strings he never missed an opportunity to tease his brother, "More grace, brother, you're not in a tournament with orcs in Angband!"

Maedhros, hurt but trying not to show it, would turn sharply and remind him, "I am trying to dance, not play peacock. But as soon as he started moving again, Maglor didn't give up: "And don't forget to smile! No magic works without charm!" - he said with such seriousness that Maedhros could barely contain his laughter.

When his attempts to smile and not get tangled up in complicated steps failed, Maedhros snorted in annoyance, "This is a dance, not a carnival act!" But even he couldn't resist his brother's infectious laughter as he exaggerated "grace" and whirled around like a whirlwind, eyes wide open and a fake smile on his face. "This is it, Maedhros! All of Middle-earth will give you a standing ovation!"

The night of the test had come. The moon rose high in the sky, its light silvery on the shore and the calm waters. Elwing stood on a high rock, holding the Silmaril, which shone like a star. Maedhros took a deep breath and took the first step, hoping not to step on his cloak.

Elwing watched with interest, barely containing her laughter as Maedhros, performing another complicated pas, nearly tripped over an invisible rock. His attempt to regain his balance looked more like trying to jump an entire chasm. "Impressive," Elwing remarked with a mischievous smile, tilting her head slightly, "almost like Luthien... if she were a very tired and irritable elf."

Maedhros blinked at the comparison and whispered, covering his mouth with his hand, "Try that again!" The attempt to remain serious failed, and he almost laughed, feeling the tension of the dance turn into ridiculous fun.

Toward the end of the dance, Maedhros moved more carefully, as if afraid he might stumble again and lose the last vestiges of his dignity. Eventually, the music faded, and he straightened and made a deep bow, both weary and relieved.

Elwing, shaking her head slightly at his stubbornness and persistence, slowly descended from the podium. Respect glowed in her eyes, despite the hidden irony. Holding out the Silmaril with a slight smile, she acknowledged, "You have earned it, though not as gracefully as Luthien, but with no less tenacity.

Maedhros accepted the gem and nodded briefly, but could not resist adding: "If my dancing were as good as my fighting, the Silmaril would have been mine long ago."

Turning back to his brother, Maedhros leaned closer and lowered his voice to a threatening whisper, "If any of our people find out that I won the Silmaril by dancing, I will be your greatest nightmare. His gaze was serious, but the shadow of a smile lurked at the corners of his lips.

Maglor, his eyes bright with glee, could barely contain his laughter as he watched his brother struggle to keep his pride intact. He leaned closer as if to share the action, "Oh, don't worry," he replied with a smile, emphasizing the light and good-natured tone, "I promise to tell this story to anyone who will listen, especially those who worship legends of heroism and bravery. Maglor waved his hand theatrically, as if already imagining stories around the campfire where Maedhros' dance would become a new epic.

Maedhros frowned, but there was a gleam of amusement in his eyes. "Don't you dare turn this into a ballad," he added grimly, but there was no real threat in his voice.

Maglor bowed his head innocently, as if pondering his words. "A ballad? No, of course not. Perhaps an epic saga in five parts... Or at least a musical play. I think the chorus about 'the hero who entered battle through dance' would be a real hit."

Maedhros just shook his head, amazed at how quickly his brother had turned his threat into a joke.

The story had been passed down among the elves ever since, each retelling adding more jokes and exaggerations. It was said that the stars shone brighter that night, and that the sky itself smiled upon the stern Maedhros, who, for the sake of his goal, swallowed his pride and danced before Elwing.

With each retelling, the details became more incredible: some claimed that his steps were like dancing on a bonfire, others assured that Elving had deliberately offered the most difficult moves to watch, hoping that Maedhros would retreat and leave them alone. But most of all, they liked to add that the stars winked at each other at that moment, marveling that the fearsome son of Theanor, who had terrified armies with his strategies, was now fighting not enemies but complicated pas.

In time, humorous poems appeared in which Maedhros danced "like a wild boar who has forgotten the way of the forest," but with respect for his willingness to undertake this ridiculous feat for the sake of peace. There were even jokes in the elven halls that if Maedhros were offered another dance in exchange for all the Silmarilli, he would demand that the story not be told.

But behind all the ridicule there was a note of admiration: for even the most stubborn and proud of Feanor's sons had shown flexibility - not only in movement, but in spirit - to achieve his goal.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/58668676

[poetryvampire]

Something Something erotically taking off Gil Galads rings — yeah with my mouth

Yepyepyep ♪(^∇^*) Anon I'm so glad we're on the same page about this. I've been thinking about this exact idea waaay longer than id like to admit so why not have a lil drabble 🎇

Gil Galad x gn reader

Lightly nsft

At the end of a hard day you only want to comfort your king.

You shivered at the High King's touch, his warm palm finally making contact with your cheek. A seemingly simple act of comfort that spoke volumes coming from your beloved ruler. Yet again the two of you had found yourselves partners in a dance of missteps and maybes, of following an easier path only to be drawn back to an endless forest.

"No more words of sorrow." Gil Galad spoke lowly, cupping your chin to raise your eyes to his.

Your whole face felt alight under the gaze of those wise brown eyes you'd come to adore. For what felt a lifetime, the two of you studied each other caught under the weight of everything still unsaid. You were moths transfixed by the heated glow of your own desire.

"Is that an order, my king?" You mange, not breaking the gaze.

"Yes." He breathed as his thumb rubbed small circles onto your skin. "These burdens are mine to worry over. Do not concern yourself."

"Would that I could lighten your load, my king." Your faced reddened farther, your voice plain with yearning. "That I could take these worries from you." without another thought you turned, nuzzling into the familiar palm.

You thanked the Valar he did not move anyway even when you pressed kiss after kiss into his palm, his wrist, his fingertips. Your love for your king threated to drawn you if you could not release it that very moment. You could not bring yourself to meet his eye but your fears were dashed as his thumb began to trace ever so slowly against your lip. A moan escaped you as your body- yet again- moved of its own accord and took his thumb inside your mouth.

Gil Galad froze as you set to work, immediately intoxicated on the taste of his flesh. You lapped at the digit and curled your tongue around it accidently loosening the ring sitting at the base. With a soft hum you removed it altogether before freeing his thumb. Sheepishly you pulled the ring from your lips ready to apologize when you were halted by the look on your king's face. The surprise on his parted lips was overshadowed by the unmistakable lust burning in those perfect eyes.

A playful smile danced over your mouth before your tongue found the underside of Gil Galad's index finger and slowly licked up the length. The High king released a shaken breath but he did not dare turn his eyes from yours as you sucked it into you mouth. You ran your lips tip to base again and again humming in delight. The feeling of his rough skin was enough to make you melt. That, and the realization just how much larger your king's hands were than yours, how thick his digits were, how they might feel else where.

Your head was swimming by the time you pulled free the second ring. When had Gil Galad captured your waist with his free hand? When had he moved so close you could feel his hot panting breaths on your face.

"I-I am sorry for my..." You're not sure what else to say as you silently bag him to let you go on.

"No." Gil Galad, the High King himself, the most wise elf you had ever met, now fought for words. Again he brought his adapt fingertips to brush over your lips with an adoration that weakened your knees. "You honor me. Never have I been adorned with such a precious gem as these."

"Let me adore you." you sigh. " As you deserve to be." Keeping your eyes fixed to his you took both his middle and ring finger fully into your mouth with a single motion. You gave yourself over fully to the lewdness of the act and gave your beloved a show of just how you yearned to please him. You sucked deeply not caring for the wet sounds and light gagging at the length of them. Well worth it to watch Gil Galad's eyes roll back before shutting them tightly. He shuddered and lowly rumbled your name, a vibration that shot straight to your aching core. You pressed your thighs together trying to quell you own need.

The High King let out a sharp groan and to your surprise he ripped his fingers from your mouth. The protest forming in you throat was snuffed out as his lip captured yours. His mouth hot as it was impatient and terribly needy. His tongue just as curious and hungry as yours. Your arms locked around his neck as Gil Galad embraced you, pressing your body tight to him which drew urgent moans from both of you. There could be no more pretending you did not burn for each other. Not after the rush of heated confessions spoken between kisses. Not after feeling the steel hard testament to your king's desire pressed eagerly against your stomach. Not after the night that was in store for you. One neither you would ever forget.

[d4isywhims]

i miss being a studyblr 😔

[bookloover35]

Moonlit Shadow//Legolas.

The forest was alive with the whispers of ancient trees, their branches swaying as if in quiet conversation. Legolas moved soundlessly through the dense woods of Ithilien, his keen eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of movement. The moon hung high above, casting a silver glow that illuminated the dark canopy.

He paused, his elven senses tingling as a flicker of motion caught his eye. For a moment, he thought it was merely a trick of the moonlight—until he heard it: the softest rustle of leaves that even his sharp hearing barely detected.

A shadow moved ahead, a figure cloaked in black, as if the darkness itself had come to life. Without making a sound, Legolas nocked an arrow and aimed it at the silhouette.

"Reveal yourself," he commanded softly, his voice calm but firm.

A low, amused chuckle echoed through the clearing, and a figure stepped into the moonlight. She was an elf, but unlike any he had ever seen. Her long hair, dark as midnight, cascaded down her back, framing a face that was both fierce and beautiful. But it was her eyes that held him captive—vivid, almost glowing purple, like rare gems that glimmered in the starlight.

"You need not point that at me," she said, her voice smooth and laced with mischief. "I'm not the enemy."

Legolas hesitated for a moment, then lowered his bow. "Who are you?" he asked, curiosity sparking within him.

The mysterious elf tilted her head, a smile playing at her lips. "They call me (Y/N). But names mean little in the shadows."

Legolas watched her with growing intrigue. He had heard tales of a rogue wandering the borders of Gondor—an elf who answered to no lord, living by her own code. Yet he had not expected her to be quite so... entrancing.

"Why do you linger here, in the woods of Ithilien?" Legolas inquired, stepping closer.

(Y/N) shrugged casually, her movements graceful as a cat. "The trees speak of invaders, of darkness encroaching from the East. I prefer to stay ahead of trouble." She leaned against a tree, her eyes never leaving his. "And you, prince of Mirkwood? What brings you so far from your homeland?"

Legolas found himself caught off-guard by her directness. "I, too, seek to protect these lands," he replied. "But I am bound by duty."

She chuckled softly. "Duty is a cage, even for one as skilled as you, Legolas. Why not free yourself from those chains and see the world for what it truly is?"

The moonlight bathed her in an ethereal glow, and Legolas felt an unfamiliar flutter in his chest. She was unlike the elves of Rivendell or Lothlórien—wild, untamed, and utterly captivating.

Days turned into weeks, and Legolas found himself crossing paths with (Y/N) more frequently. At first, their encounters were fleeting, accidental. Yet, he began to seek her out, as if the forest itself was drawing them together.

(Y/N) was always moving, her lithe form darting through the shadows like a whisper. She had no loyalty to any realm, no master save herself. Legolas marveled at her independence and strength, traits that were foreign to him as a prince bound by duty.

One evening, as they sat by a small campfire, (Y/N) noticed Legolas watching her with a gaze that was softer than before. She raised an eyebrow, her trademark smirk playing on her lips.

"You stare as if you've never seen an elf before," she teased, her voice a gentle lilt that sent shivers down his spine.

"I have seen many," Legolas replied, his voice barely more than a whisper. "But none like you."

(Y/N)'s laughter died on her lips as she saw the sincerity in his eyes. The firelight danced across his golden hair, his blue eyes reflecting a warmth that was rare for him. She was used to people desiring her for her skills, her abilities as a rogue—but this? This was something deeper, something she was unprepared for.

"You should not look at me that way, Legolas," she said quietly, turning her gaze to the flames. "I am a shadow, fleeting and unbound. I do not belong in the light."

Legolas reached out, gently cupping her chin to turn her face back to him. "Then let me be the one to pull you into the light," he murmured, his thumb brushing her cheek.

For the first time, (Y/N) found herself at a loss for words. She had spent centuries alone, convinced that she needed no one, that her freedom was the only thing worth protecting. But now, under the gentle touch of an elven prince, she felt her walls begin to crumble.

As the days passed, the bond between them grew stronger, though neither spoke of it openly. Their partnership became seamless in battle, their movements synchronized as if they had been fighting side by side for centuries. (Y/N) was always at his side, her twin daggers flashing in the moonlight, a silent protector.

Yet Legolas could not ignore the growing desire in his heart. It was unlike anything he had ever known—this longing for someone so wild and free, so different from himself. He admired her strength, her independence, but it was her heart that captivated him most. The rogue who claimed to live in shadows had a light within her that he could not resist.

One evening, as they rested after a fierce battle against a band of orcs, Legolas could no longer hold back his feelings. He approached (Y/N), who was tending to her wounds, and knelt beside her.

"(Y/N)," he said softly, his voice a gentle caress. "You are the brightest star in the darkest night. I have never met anyone like you, and I fear that my heart is no longer my own."

(Y/N) looked up, her amethyst eyes widening in surprise. "Legolas... you don't know what you're saying. I'm not meant for this." She gestured between them, her expression conflicted.

But Legolas only smiled, leaning in closer until their breaths mingled. "Perhaps you are meant for more than you think, (Y/N)," he whispered.

And in that moment, as the moon bathed them in its silver light, she let go of her fears. Their lips met, a soft, lingering kiss that spoke of promises unspoken and feelings long denied. For once, she allowed herself to be vulnerable, to let someone in.

In the shadows of the forest, where only the stars bore witness, the rogue and the prince found solace in each other's embrace—a love that transcended the boundaries of duty and freedom, of light and shadow.

Epilogue: Though (Y/N) continued to walk her own path, she found herself returning to Legolas time and time again. Their love was a delicate balance of freedom and commitment, like a dance under the moonlit sky. Together, they forged a bond that would endure through the ages, proving that even the wildest hearts could find a place to call home.

[em-mermaid]

The Dungeon is Ready for its Next Victim

Gem taps her foot, the soft sound echoing around the dungeon’s lobby. Hypno’s voice fades as the minecart takes him down, down into the dungeon. He had picked a hard run so she knew he would be a while. 

The runs were longer now. At the beginning they were only ever in there for a few hours, barely able to poke around in the early parts of level one before running back. But now, with their decks filling up with cards and artifacts hidden deeper in the dungeon, it was often days before the hermits would return victorious. Not that it was exactly obvious to those in the lobby, there weren’t any windows after all. 

They would return, adrenaline still flowing through their veins and shiny new cards in their hand. The brave ones would run again. Others would calm their racing heart and talk through their run. Many would crash, bodies falling slack against their friends in the lobby. Barely able to stay upright long enough to make it to their locker room before passing out for the night.

And yet they always returned.

There was something in the dungeon. Something there, just under the surface, that encouraged them to return. A desperate pull for more runs. For more greed.

So Gem waits.

And waits.

Let it be known that Gem is not a patient hermit. 

The foot tapping turns into bouncing, which then turns to jumping. Jumping turns to elytra gliding and pretty soon she is flying circles around her friends as they chat. Comparing decks and planning out future runs.

And Gem is bored.

She’s up next after all.

She eyes up the walls. It’s not a trapped feeling per say, but the flat ground of the lobby is no longer enough to help her expel the excess energy. To calm the nervous energy that is slowly building in anticipation of her run.

And that’s when she spots it. A hole in the wall, only two blocks up. It’s a small decorative thing shaped by stairs and slabs, but just large enough that she knows she could squeeze in. 

She sets her eyes on the prize and takes a running leap, flying up towards the nook and her fingers catch on the ledge. It takes some effort, but she manages to pull herself up fairly quick and with all the grace of the elf she is. And she’s definitely not out of breath afterwards, thank you very much. 

Finally, she turns to crouch and finds a comfortable position to observe the lobby. Her friends continue to mill about below, some even glancing over to throw her a smile before continuing their conversations. It was just another Gem quirk that she knew they loved. Find the high point and simply observe. Maybe throw out the occasional jab. It was, of course, the second best way to spend her time, only second to sparring.

So she sits, arms resting on bent knees and back hunched to keep her hair from brushing the slab above.

And she watches. 

She knew the little nook wouldn’t be big enough to stand in or even provide enough space to sit completely upright but at least she was pleasantly cozy despite the ever present chill. It calms her down, being up high like this. There is something soothing about being so close to the entrance of the dungeon, shard tucked safely into her pocket and her friends laughing below. 

Her heart rate finally slows and the nerves fade enough for her to relax. Hermits slip in and out of the lobby as she begins to doze. They know she is next and she knows they will respect that, should she doze through Hypno’s exit. 

As she dozes, something begins that she doesn’t notice at first. Something she doesn’t notice for far far too long, because it starts slowly. The blackstone at her feet begins to shift. Lichen pokes through the cracks and begins to crawl, growing up and over her feet.

No one notices when her toes turn black.

No one notices when the stone travels up, covering her legs in vines and ice.

No one sees the creeping vines travel up her back and tangle themselves into her hair.

When Gem finally wakes to the sound of a gong alerting her to Hypno’s successful run, the hermits have moved to the queue room for the evening. She feels stiff from the hunched position and maybe the perch wasn’t the best place to sleep, but it wasn’t anything that couldn’t be solved with a few stretches.

She tries to pull her arms down to push herself out from the nook, but something keeps her there. She can’t move.

Why can’t she move?

Her gaze flicks down towards her arms and her scream comes out muffled, muted. Her arms are covered in blackstone and lichen. Vines knot themselves around her limbs and freeze into place under the thin layer of ice forming around them.

The dungeon doors open and it spits Hypno back into the lobby. He holds his deck of cards and a handful of crowns. He lets out a sigh of relief and she screams. A second muffled noise that makes him glance up, confused until his eyes lock on her and widen with terror.

He only hesitates a moment before dropping everything and running towards her with a strangled shout. “TANGO GET UP HERE!”

[lunastrophe]

Drow Lore 🕷️ Dangerous Merchants

Drow merchants are often not who they seem to be. Some of them are more or less independent information brokers, selling not only goods, but also knowledge to those who can pay for it. Some others secretly work for noble drow houses, occasionally serving as their spies, agents or assassins.

Normally, the drow merchants' first and foremost priority is to ensure the prosperity of their business, but they are often fine with taking an additional assignment now and then - for a fee, of course, or in exchange for other benefits.

In the Icewind Dale series we can meet a great example of a prosperous drow merchant who is much more powerful than he seems to be at first glance - Nym.

🕷️ Polite Drow Merchant - Nym can be found in the hidden svirfneblin village in the Lower Dorn's Deep and after being approached, he greets the player characters in drow language:

"Mallan uss, dis malli usstan tal tanas talthalra. Usstan zha Nym."

This line contains some drow words from canon sources and some others that seem to be distorted - but it can probably be translated as: Honoured one, you honour me with this meeting. I am Nym.

Nym is always exceptionally polite while talking to adventurers, referring to them as "honored customers" - however, soon it becomes clear that under this veneer of politeness and almost-friendliness, there is a cold, cunning and manipulative mind.

🕷️ Profit And Self Above All Else - when the player character points out that it is strange to see a dark elf in a village of deep gnomes, since svirfneblin typically hate drow, Nym replies casually:

"Dire need overcomes simple hatred in periods of duress. I am a businessman. Petty racial differences are irrelevant in my dealings. The deep gnomes have gems. I have goods. It's an excellent relationship. Most profitable."

Since svirfneblin from Lower Dorn's Deep are in deplorable situation, doing business with them - or maybe rather taking advantage of their misfortune and lack of other options - must be "most profitable" indeed.

Nym also tries to take advantage of the visiting adventurers: he buys even quite valuable items cheaply, but his prices are high; he offers special services (enchanting a shield), but demands an outrageous amount of gold as a payment; he is also a slippery negotiator - if you are not careful, you may end up paying him way too much for a simple dagger +2.

But as it turns out, in the past Nym was doing much worse things for a profit.

🕷️ Skilled Thief - the player character can ask Nym about his profession, commenting that being an Underdark merchant sounds like a possibly dangerous and short career. Nym replies calmly that for many, it is, but then states:

"However, I have been in this trade for over four hundred years. I have seen my way into and out of places that no other dark elf has ever seen. You'd be surprised how powerful a single merchant can be."

He is clearly proud of his accomplishments and cannot resist boasting a bit:

"I have seen many things, been many places. The gem mines of Thay aren't quite as frightening as some might lead you to believe. The depths of the Moonsea aren't filled with undead. Oh, and the treasury of Dorn's Deep wasn't very secure even when it was inhabited by the dwarves."

Why is the information about the treasury of Dorn's Deep so important?

🕷️ Nym's Stratagem - sometime after 900 DR, the elves from the fortress known as Hand of the Seldarine and the dwarves from Dorn's Deep formed an alliance and together they created many powerful artifacts. At some point, though, many of those artifacts mysteriously vanished from the treasury and inexplicably fell into the hands of enemies - orcs and goblins. The elves accused the dwarves for secretly supplying the orcs and ultimately, the alliance was severed. The war that came after destroyed both nations.

The vanishing of artifacts was apparently Nym's doing:

"The darthiir [elven] and dwarven artifacts produced by the so-called "Time of Cooperation" were too valuable to resist. Selling the artifacts to the goblinoid armies was the best business decision I ever made. It had so many angles to play. The stupid goblins went bankrupt just to buy artifacts that they couldn't use properly. The dwarves who were threatening to attack some drow outposts were implicated, and the darthiir slit their own throats when they decided to wage war against the goblins and dwarves. Silly elves."

🕷️ Drow Cause - Nym's words about "dwarves threatening to attack some drow outposts" suggest that he was acting not only for his own benefit, but also for the benefit of some local drow community - likely Rilauven, drow city located below the caverns of Lower Dorn's Deep.

Was Nym supported, or maybe even employed and sponsored by Rilauvenian drow? Or was he acting independently - and making the entire drow city owing him a debt was only a side consequence of his plan?

It is not really known - but when we meet Nym several decades later during the events of Icewind Dale II, he seems to be on good terms with Rilauvenian leaders like Malavon Despana and he even works for them...

Also, in one of the books that can be found in game, we can find this note:

"It is rumored that a dark elf by the name of 'Nym' was the individual truly responsible for the fall of the Hand. Through magical means he entered the vaults of the dwarves, stole their artifacts, and sold them to the goblinoid armies. He then sat back and watched as the elves and dwarves destroyed their alliance with accusations of guilt.

It is speculated that Nym did this to remove a significant threat to the drow population in the area of the Hand. With the elves and dwarves vanquished, the drow were free to claim their territory as their own with no consequence..."

🕷️ So, to sum things up - beware of the Underdark drow merchants... especially the ones who somehow manage to stay in this dangerous business for centuries.

For more of my drow lore ramblings, feel free to check my pinned post 🕷️

[ink-flavored]

Urban Fantasy Culture World-Building

There are a lot of different creatures in my anthologies, each with a unique culture. I thought I would take the time to outline them all here, both as a reference for myself, but also as a fun guide to how I might be able to make my characters defy their culture in the anthology stories I write. You can also find this and more on my Neocities site! Unnamed Urban Fantasy Anthology Taglist (Check out my Google Form to get added): @foxys-fantasy-tales @auroblaze @thelaughingstag @auntdarth @damageinkorporated

Human

Can be born with or without the ability to use magic

We’re those! Nice! 👍

Culturally, most humans value variety in life and social groups, making the most of their adaptive qualities. They’re some of the most likely to mingle in other creatures’ cultures, whether it’s to learn, or just to try the food.

Elf

Always born with the ability to use magic

Pointy-eared, long-lived humanoids with strong connections to magic

Culturally, most elves encourage an interest in study, invention, and creation to make the most of their long lives. Education is highly prized and encouraged, in anything from science to art to history. Their birth rates are some of the lowest among all creatures, so the rare biological family unit tends to be close-knit and cultural expectations are high for the few children that are born.

Dwarf

Can be born with or without the ability to use magic

Short, bearded, subterranean humanoids

Culturally, most dwarves enjoy showing off their prowess in working metals, stone, and gems, or otherwise focus on perfecting a specific craft. Making a trade into a career is highly prioritized, and competition in various dwarf markets is fierce. Still, some prefer to keep their crafts as private hobbies, not feeling a need to prove themselves in business—their skill is self-evident, after all.

Orc

Can be born with or without the ability to use magic

Large, tusked humanoids

Culturally, most orcs foster strong social bonds, value strength of character, and individual deeds. They put a large emphasis on community and family, and many orc social groups have regular family reunions with “talent shows” that allow each orc to show off something they’ve mastered since the last reunion.

Dragonfolk

Always born with the ability to use magic

Large humanoids with draconic features and fire breath

Culturally, most dragonfolk enjoy building collections of personally valuable objects and boast of their exploits as a form of social bonding. Those collections can range from the traditional gold and jewelry to a hoard of tourist trap knick-knacks, and the larger collection the better. Similarly, social boasting can range from personal achievement to the achievements of those close to you. Some dragonfolk like to boast that they hoard things to boast about. This usually gets an eyeroll.

Gnome

Can be born with or without the ability to use magic

Short, subterranean humanoids with a close relationship to nature

Culturally, most gnomes carefully craft gardens of fungi or flowers, and tend to live their lives slow and unbothered. They’re another creature commonly found scattered among the cultures of others, glad to share and eager to befriend any who cross their path.

Halfling

Can be born with or without the ability to use magic

Short, ground-dwelling humanoids

Culturally, most halflings value food and entertainment in extravagant fashion. Social propriety is also highly valued in many halfling spaces, and declining invitations to social events is gossip-worthy news. Each of those social events aims to be bigger and more bombastic than the last, taking any excuse to celebrate something.

Satyr

Can be born with or without the ability to use magic

Humanoid creatures with goat legs, ears, horns, and other features

Culturally, most satyrs value a “fast life” full of partying and constant recreation. From the outside, it seems as though many satyrs simply don’t care about taking life seriously, but those who party argue an emphasis on amusement is taking it seriously. Life is tough, so satyrs make joy whenever and however they can. Even comparatively more buttoned-up satyrs have at least one area they can completely let loose in.

Centaur

Can be born with or without the ability to use magic

Horse from the waist down and human from the waist up

Culturally, most centaurs emphasize close herd ties, community leadership, and helping your own. Commonly, centaur herds move nomadically around a few central locations, where trust and mutual aid is vital. Leadership roles are taken extremely seriously, and knowing when to step down into a follower’s role is applauded, not shamed.

Shapeshifter

Always born with the ability to use magic

Can be literally any of these things and more

Shapeshifters tend to assimilate with whichever culture they grow up nearest to, but in shapeshifter-only communities, they tend to value spontaneity and philosophy—they exist in both a solid and fluid state of self. Many shapeshifters find themselves unable to relate to the solidity of other creatures, or have been shamed for their abilities and refusal to just “pick something.” Cultures that value transience, like naiads, gnomes, and satyrs, tend to be more welcoming to shapeshifters than others.

Naga

Always born with the ability to use magic

Giant snake-people with arms and other humanoid features

Culturally, most naga are solitary with carefully curated routines. Their families can be very large, but naga children are encouraged to seek independence at a very early age, depending on their upbringing. Because many nagas enter brumation in the winter, the dedication to routine includes making space for rest and recuperation. Many consider it a necessary isolation, to recoup the energy to go on.

Minotaur

Can be born with or without the ability to use magic

Bull from the chest up, human from the chest down, and a bull’s tail

Culturally, most minotaur value privacy and not speaking unless they have something “valuable” to add to a conversation. This “value” is dependent on the individual, and can extend to career paths and decisions in life as well. Some minotaurs will (very subtly) bicker over which values in life are most important, both to strengthen their own arguments and to challenge others’.

Vampire

Nobody is born a vampire, they’re created from bites or curses

An undead creature that subsists off the blood of living creatures

Magic ability is based on which creature they were born as

Most vampires continue to practice the cultural values they had in their lives, but vampire-only communities tend to organize around supporting each other in undeath, and how blood-sucking might be a downside of a second chance at life, but a “living” life has consequences too. In a way, an undeath is a second chance, and many vampires aim to make the most of it, despite their circumstances.

Werewolf

Nobody is born a werewolf, they’re created from bites or curses

Look exactly like themselves until the full moon, upon which they mutate into a large wolf creature that is compelled to rampage until the next day

Magic ability is based on which creature they were born as

Most werewolves continue to practice the cultural values they had before they were turned, but werewolf-only communities tend to emphasize “necessary rage” and never holding back emotion. To some, becoming a werewolf is freeing, giving them an excuse to express “unsightly” emotions their cultures might encourage them to suppress.

Catfolk

Can be born with or without the ability to use magic

Humanoid cat creatures; can share the patterns and qualities of domestic or wild cats

Culturally, most catfolk encourage pride and self-indulgence. Walking away from situations you find unpleasant, or even unstimulating, is encouraged. Taking entire days for yourself to do something you enjoy or simply lounge around is a common pastime. There’s less pressure among catfolk to “give back” their communities, and more communal cultures can clash with catfolk because of this.

Dryad

Always have the ability to use magic

Humanoid tree creatures; can share qualities from any one type of tree

They aren’t “born,” they’re grown from other dryad seeds

Culturally, most dryads emphasize a slow, cautious life and meditation on any big decision. Impulsivity and recklessness is frowned upon, but as some of the longest-lived creatures in the world, doing something “impulsive” can vary wildly from other cultures’ expectations. Many dryads who spend time with other cultures are often shocked when creatures spend hours—not weeks or months—contemplating their choices. Others are unsurprised—other creatures simply don’t have the time to be as contemplative as a tree. Whether this is sympathy or pity can vary.

Naiad

Always have the ability to use magic

Humanoid water creatures

They aren’t “born,” they’re created through rituals with enchanted water

Culturally, most naiads value transience in relationships and transparency in emotions—never sticking too closely to one thing, but never lying about their intentions. Because they’re inherently magical, naiads use magic for everything from practicality to play. Magic puzzles and illusions are common forms of entertainment, and even as forms of education. And, of course, many naiads find it amusing to toy with other creatures who try to find their communities, distracting them with said puzzles until they prove themselves or give up.

Fairy

Always born with the ability to use magic

Humanoid creatures with thin, butterfly-adjacent wings and colorful hair and eyes

Culturally, most fairies value politeness and gift-giving, especially if the gift is handmade or somehow personal. Their communities are very close-knit, but have often near-inscrutable social constraints to outsiders. Even between different communities of fairies, the social code is practically a different language and impacts everything from terms of address to which spells may be cast in public vs private spaces.

Harpy

Can be born with or without the ability to use magic

Humanoids with wings for arms and a bird’s legs; can share patterns and qualities of any bird

Culturally, most harpies encourage freedom and independence from a young age and throughout life. The ability to fly allows them to travel much farther and with greater ease than most other creatures, so travel is a very big “rite of passage” in lots of harpy societies. Social dances are also given great importance, most often for romance, but there are plenty of dances for friendship, formal events, apologies, celebration, and even sympathy for another’s grief.

Merfolk

Always born with the ability to use magic

Human from the waist up and a sea creature from the waist down; can share qualities with any one sea creature

Culturally, most merfolk value community connections, mutual aid, and teamwork. Merfolk that share traits with fish tend to live in schools, traveling around the sea nomadically. Others that share traits with sharks or octopi tend to be solitary, staying in one area of the sea, with close ties to other merfolk that live near them, or schools that pass by. Their vocal hypnosis is used to hunt, and schools that hunt often use simultaneous hypnosis to disorient their prey before going in for the kill. In schools, the young and the elderly always eat first, followed by the rest.

Aetheridum (pl) / Aetherid (s)

Regular people (of any creature type) can have Aetheridum children if they’re blessed by whatever gods exist in this world, or if the kid is a gift they prayed for, or as a reward for devotion. No matter what their parents are, the magic kids have metallic skin, will eventually grow wings (even if they already have them), and have an intense penchant for magic

They aren’t literally “angels come to earth” but people speculate that they’re earthly incarnations of aether-creatures, or even fragments of gods themselves

The intensity of that magic gift varies between individuals, but they are the only creature that doesn’t experience the magical “atrophy” that every other creature does. They have an intense magical capacity from birth, to the point where they may warp the magic energies around them without realizing, and cause it to fire off without actually casting any spells

This can be both positive and negative. One the one hand, having a high magical capacity means a much easier time learning spells, casting them, and managing the energy output. On the other, choosing not to pursue any magical training means that any Aetherid can potentially be setting off magic flashbangs, wherever they go, by complete accident, for the rest of their lives. Most parents put their Aetheridum kids in magical training as early as possible due to this outcome, but not all of them do, and not all of the children stay in training.

Despite being a literal godly blessing, the magical capability can be somewhat of a curse too. Recruitment for their magical gifts is extremely high in scientific and medical fields, and many are pushed into high-skill, high-stress jobs for the sake of “not wasting their gifts.” There has been plenty of literature and study on the subject of just how much more beneficial an Aetherid is to any particular work environment, if at all—a high magical capacity doesn’t mean anything about how well you use it. Most find that the same jobs can be easily done with non-Aetheridum workers with standard or even low magical capacities, just not to the same degree of power. Unfortunately, these unfavorable results are often swept under the rug for the sake of maintaining the “usefulness” of this blessed class of creature.

D’infernyssh (pl) / D’infern (s)

In the same way some children can be blessed, some can be cursed. If the parents make a foul pact, corrupt themselves with forbidden magic, or anger a vengeful deity, they can give birth to a D’infern. These children are almost a direct inverse of Aetheridum, born with metallic skin, eventually growing batlike wings, and always have a curse to bear

Similar to the speculation about Aetheridum, the D’infernyssh aren’t literally demons, but could possibly be incarnations of godly rage or corrupted godlike creatures

The curses placed on the D’infernyssh are always related to the siphoning of emotions or sensations from those around them to survive. “Real” food doesn’t nourish them in the slightest, though they do experience hunger. They describe cravings for feelings the same way any other might describe a craving for soup or fancy steak.

The types of curses known to the world are: pleasure, rest, anger, sadness, joy, envy, pain, affection, fear, pride, disgust, and curiosity.

For any non-D’infernyssh, simply being in the presence of a hungry D’infern who eats the emotion or sensation you’re feeling is all it takes for it to be slowly drained away. For example, if you feel curious about something around a D’infern that eats curiosity, you’ll slowly become less interested in it until you find it altogether uninteresting. Once the D’infern isn’t hungry, the draining stops, and your emotions become your own again. However, eating feelings doesn’t work like gaining nutrients from food, and unless the D’infern gets a big “meal” from either an intense emotional state or multiple people experiencing the same emotion at once, they often need to “eat” more than 3 times a day.

Most parents with D’infernyssh children can’t tell if they have a D’infern or an Aetherid at the beginning of the child’s life. Because they both have metallic skin and their wings don’t sprout until puberty, it’s very easy to confuse one for the other unless you know why your child was born with platinum skin. Due to this confusion, many D’infernyssh are malnourished until they can communicate what they need to survive.

There are tests that can be given to potential Aetheridum or D’infernyssh children to pick out which one is which, but it does require the parents to acknowledge the potential that their child may be cursed. Unless they know already, many are reluctant to do this, and a few are even insulted by the insinuation.

Doctors that specialize in curses are working on ways to determine from birth, and even from an ultrasound, what kind of metallic child they’re working with, but it’s a work-in-progress, and nowhere near as reliable as many D’infernyssh, their parents, and potential parents would like it to be.

Having a very obvious curse that drains the emotions of those around them, whether they like it or not, makes D’infernyssh obvious targets of ostracization from many cultures, save for those that hold overcoming personal strengths in high reverence, like orcs, dragonfolk, and dwarves. Still, there’s a lot that needs to be done for acceptance of the D’infernyssh, and places like Athendrolyn are breeding grounds for social movements.

Obviously this ostracization is more intense for some D’infernyssh and not others. For example, a D’infern that eats pain might have wildly different experiences from a D’infern that eats joy.

Goblin

Can be born with or without the ability to use magic

Small, cave-dwelling, mischievous humanoids

Culturally, most goblins encourage community sharing, barter, and near-constant play. In many goblin societies, there is no concept of “private property.” Everything in the community belongs to everybody in it, with shared resources considered the default with individual items belonging to individuals a very distant concept. Trading extra resources or favors is more common than money when it comes to trade, and even a good joke can count as “payment” in some goblin societies. Entertainment is important for the good of the community, after all, and coming up with new and exciting games is taken very seriously.

Sphinx

Always born with the ability to use magic

Large creature with a human’s face, a lion’s body, and an eagle’s wings that tells riddles

Culturally, most sphinxes value intelligence, creativity, and interrogating rules. In many sphinx communities, their riddles are less important than why the riddles are asked. Knowing when and why to test someone with a riddle is one of the first lessons taught to the rare young sphinx, though the precise reason varies. Tradition, respect for the asker, earning the asker’s attention or friendship, testing another’s creativity, gaining wisdom from their answer, all of these and more are considered valid reasons for a sphinx to ask a riddle. Good luck ever getting them to reveal which one they were thinking of when they asked you, though.

Selkie

Always born with the ability to use magic

A seal creature that transforms into a human on land, keeping its seal skin as a coat

Culturally, most selkies value boundaries, slow-moving relationships, and taking time to put down firm roots. Second only to dryads in their community emphasis on deliberation, selkies never put their coats down in places they wouldn’t be willing to risk their lives in. As slow-moving as selkie friendships and relationships can be, when a selkie is comfortable enough to leave their coats at the door, it’s a sign they’ve become a loyal companion for life. In the same vein, trying to rush a relationship can cause a selkie to snap it like a twig, never to flourish.

Gorgon

Always born with the ability to use magic

A humanoid with snakes for hair that can turn others to stone with a single glance

The snakes are most often non-venomous, but there are exceptions

Culturally, most gorgons value self-defense, privacy, and “not judging books by the cover.” As frightening as gorgons can seem, and as truly dangerous as their powers can be, the vanishingly rare cases of intentional petrification prove that many fears are unfounded. Many gorgons that value privacy also value the privacy of others, and won’t pry about topics if they aren’t brought up first. By this same principle, many gorgons have very short tolerances for others prying, especially if it involves invasive questions about “how far the snakes go” or their “statue count.”