#laurel (tav)

[ada-melodies]

"The battle is over, Zevlor. We can finally be together, at last"

The new kiss scene for Halsin was too sweet and lovely and couldn't resist to recreate it with Zevlor and Laurel. Wish we could have Zevlor romance with anything else on patch 5, but this would calm my thirst a little <3

[hunny-pp]

rhea x astarion shenanigans, manic pixie dream girl and her sewer rat

[havealotonmymind]

The Ballad of the Blade

Summary: There was power to words. Of that, Laurel always believed.

Upon meeting the Blade of Frontiers, she finally finds a story of valour worth crafting. A 5 + 1 fic where Laurel tries to write five verses to Wyll’s heroic tale and Wyll outshines her with his own.

For Day 1 of @madetobezine's OC x Canon Seasons Ship Week!

Rating: Teen and Up

Category: Tav/Wyll (Baldur's Gate), Wyll (Baldur's Gate)/Original Female Character(s)

Additional Tags: Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Bad Poetry, Love at First Sight, Eye Trauma, Due to Volo lol, Only a mention though, Romance, Act 1 (Baldur's Gate 3), Named Tav (Baldur's Gate), Elf Tav (Baldur's Gate), Bard Tav (Baldur's Gate), 5 Times, 5 + 1 Fic

Also on AO3!

Storytelling had always been in Laurel’s blood. Her father often regaled her with his own accounts of how he had bested bandits, foul foes, and once, an evil dragon. He would conjure faint images to accompany these childhood bedtime tales. The memories of heroes who had long since passed on swirled about her head and around her room, much to her delight. It was hard not to dream of crafting her very own tale one day, trusty flute in hand. 

There was power to words. Of that, she always believed. When she came of age, she traveled to the bardic college of New Olamn in Waterdeep. This grand palace of complete bardic knowledge had an oral teaching tradition, though its vast library was certainly nothing to scoff at, either. It held more stories than her father could weave together in a lifetime, and Laurel absorbed them all.

Though many of her peers took up the College of Lore, Laurel had always been drawn to stories of bold heroes and even bolder adventures. The College of Valour was her one true calling, and she would not be denied it.

By the age of twenty, she could recite her people’s poetry back to front and recall all the best epics ever written. A good bard must have a wealth of knowledge to draw from, after all. How was she to ensure she wouldn’t accidentally recreate another bard’s verses without committing all their tales to heart first?

Of course, there were only so many tales she could hear over and over again before she grew bored. Faerûn was a wild and magical place full of stories yet to be told. If she was to make her mark, Laurel knew she must venture out into it.

Her luck was not so gracious. Her trip back to the Gate was thwarted by the sudden appearance of the nautiloid. The hero’s journey over before it even began.

Escaping with several new companions in tow was no easy feat, but one she accomplished with as much grace as one could muster on an organic ship made of guts. With the tadpole threatening to upend her whole world, she and all her new friends had very little time to waste. Laurel would have to set aside her poetry and songwriting for after they were cured.

Enter the Blade of Frontiers, stage right. It took only one princely introduction, a single dashing smile, for her to fall.

Truly, the Blade of Frontiers was a tale she hoped to capture, body and soul. He cut a fine figure and appreciated a good bit of wordplay besides. Surely it wouldn’t hurt for her first bard tale to center on a prolific hero who lived up to his reputation.

The first verse she spun was a poor one:

From death he spun,

By nature true

The boldest Blade

Rapier he drew

Goblins thwarted and mad worgs slain

Through his courage, the Coast heals ‘gain.

Sloppy work. Her teachers would tut at her for such clumsy rhymes. Fresh as a seedling just beginning to sprout, this feeling was something that needed to be tended to with care. Wyll was an easygoing sort who didn’t pay much heed to her flirtations, but she didn’t mind. She wouldn’t force it upon him if he didn’t feel the same.

Besides, with a goblin invasion imminent, it wasn’t exactly the best time to gallivant. Alas, there always seemed to be something.

Fighting side-by-side with him did wonders for her inspiration. Her second verse could do with some work as well:

Twixt grove and camp the Blade patrolled

With vim and vigor, unmasked True Souls

To destroy a cult: the Absolute

Ye harried exiles, take heart, take root,

For when the Blade a-comes to call,

‘Tis fortune abound; thy heart enthralled!

Perhaps she had laid it on a bit thick. His heroics were certainly nothing to scoff at. Demanding that others revere him as she did, however, was a tad on the nose. Still, Laurel didn’t see fit to hide her affections for him. What else could stir the heart more than a touch of hinted romance?

Should her tale ever make it out of her dusty notebook, let the stuffy scholars bicker over her authorial intent. The true romantics would know in their hearts.

The third verse was perhaps the most scathing of his circumstances:

The Blade of Frontiers, a hero most grand

Inspires those ‘round him to take a stand

A-gainst foul villains and gnolls alike

His charm, grace, heroics, all will strike

So selfless is he, the sweet, knightly prince

One look should be enough to convince

A grave price he pays yet wears it well

When patron appears, he damns her to Hell.

Her was viciously underlined. Laurel never wrote at her best when she was upset. The last couplet was particularly awful. She would have to rework the entire thing when she had the time. For now, away in her notebook it went.

The Blade of Frontiers, renowned hero of the Sword Coast, now a devil? The small-minded might sneer at this new reputation. Laurel was not so. If anything, she was more enthusiastic than ever to get his tale down just right.

Her fourth verse was a much shorter one, due to Volo plucking out one of her eyes. She wasn’t sure what hurt more: the phantom ache where her eye used to be, or her companions’ utter disregard for her feelings. She had trusted Volo despite her fear. Look where that got her. If not for the tadpole in her brain, Laurel would have curled up in a corner of the forest to let the moss overtake her. 

Wyll was the only one in camp that didn’t call her an idiot. Instead, he made an off-colour joke about the two of them being part of an exclusive, one-eyed club. At first, it succeeded in making her laugh, and she was glad for it despite the lingering pain. Then out of nowhere, tears began to spill down her cheeks. She didn’t mean to fluster him with her sudden outpouring, but it couldn’t be helped. Once it started, she hardly had the wherewithal to stop herself.

His strong arms around her were a comfort. She hadn’t realized how badly she needed a hug after everything. It only made her sob harder. He patted her back, muttering much-needed reassurances. So unfailingly kind, her Wyll.

Hers? No. She couldn’t think that. He would have done this for anyone.

Laurel stepped away, excusing herself as she darted back to her tent.

That night, she quickly scribbled out the shortest verse of his tale:

Devil not, the Blade demure

True to his word, his kindness endures.

The night of the tiefling party, she danced and drank and laughed with all the rest. It was refreshing to match her flute to Alfira’s ballads, to marvel at Rolan’s magic show. Her companions and all their guests were a riot of fun. The wine and food were delicious. Spirits ran high.

And yet, this party still felt incomplete. Where had Wyll gone off to?

Noble Blade, where art thou heart?

‘Tis everywhere and yet I start

To ponder if I tell thee true

My heart, I beg, do you love me, too?

Perhaps the worst part about being in love was the yearning. It was agonizing more so than it was encouraging. She had to get this feeling off her chest or she was bound to erupt.

Laurel smoothed out her long turquoise hair as best she could in her state. Never mind that Wyll had seen her utterly disheveled and covered in viscera before.

She found him standing alone by the lake, staring off into the horizon. Laurel had never seen him so melancholy before. Every day, he had a smile ready and unfaltering courage to spare.

This was a part of him she hadn’t seen. A part she suspected he didn’t let anyone see.

It occurred to her that Wyll might not need a grand epic of his sweeping good deeds. Perhaps, as all true heroes did, he merely needed a friend to lean on. For someone to understand. That always seemed to be at the core of her father’s tales. Perhaps it was time she learned something from them.

Laurel tapped him on the shoulder, smiling faintly when he turned to meet her eyes.

“Agh, hells. I was hoping you wouldn’t notice I was gone.”

“Of course I noticed,” she said, daring to take a small step closer. “It was no party without you.”

He had helped to free the Coast of another evil. Why shouldn’t he join in the revelry?

It was a beautiful spring night. The scent of lavender and freshly overturned soil swirled in the air above the salty muck of the lake beside them.

“Really? I’m honoured. In truth, I don’t feel in a festive mood, and I didn’t want to cast a grey cloud over the night.”

He had resigned himself to his new devil visage wholeheartedly, taking others’ opinions much too close to heart. After saving the grove from an entire army charging down their front doors, why did he still think himself unwanted? It made her blood boil. Was The Blade of Frontiers nothing more to these people than a symbol to be discarded once he served his use?

“You don’t unsettle me, you know that.”

Plain, honest, true. And he thought her a saint for it.

“If only half the world had half the heart that you do. But off with you. This is your day! Have a dance. Enjoy the music.”

Another gentle refusal. His constant self-sacrifice was infuriating. Wyll deserved to be looked after, too. He deserved kindness and love and just as much forgiveness as he gave to others, but couldn’t accept for himself.

“I want to dance with you.”

This made him laugh and she felt vindicated that he was dropping his guard at last. They talked about well into the night about life in the city. He revealed his own love for dancing, even tossing her a compliment or two on her figure and form. If she was a bit more sober, the compliments alone would have sustained her. It was only after engaging in a bit of banter did her courage decide to rear its head up.

Just as he tried to usher her back to the party once more, Laurel said, “If not a dance, then maybe a kiss.”

Bold, entirely without poetry or romance. Just a dainty question practically thrown his way.

Wyll chuckled, though not without malice. “You drive a hard bargain,” he said. “But just the one.”

Oh. Oh, he accepted.

Laurel took an uneasy step towards him, studying how the torchlight flickered along his dark skin. He sucked in a breath like he was preparing to dive into the lake before him.

Her lips brushed against his and Laurel nearly keeled over. Her head spun. Her heart raced. It was lovely and far, far too short. A mere peck. Still, it made her incredibly happy, and really, what more could she ask for from him?

Laurel smiled and it was as though she had unlocked another secret part of him. Wyll’s own smile was far softer than she expected and he looked away. “Ah, that smile—it could light up a room. Hells, it could light up the entire Bay of Balduran.”

All her previous, secret efforts done away with two lines. And they didn’t even rhyme.

She wanted to tell him everything there and then: her feelings, the fact that she’d been outlining verse after verse of their journey together. Buried in the dizziness of her mind laid the beginnings of a tune, slow at first with whispering notes like rainfall, then growing lighter like the sun after the rain. 

Laurel had been so focused on the verses that she forgot to come up with the melody.

Wyll set a strong hand on her shoulder. “There will be another time for us.”

She hoped that was true. She hoped that time would come soon. What a joy it would be to have space to rest at last. To put her own feelings on the forefront and simply…fall in love. Hold hands. Hells, to have enough time for a single dance.

Laurel placed a hand over her lips with a faint smile. “I’m sure there will be. Good night, Wyll.”

Her head was abuzz with more than just alcohol as she wandered back to the dwindling party. Most of the tieflings had wandered back to the grove for one last night. Some still tried to stoke the fires of those remaining, but it was clear from the pockets of quiet that it wasn’t working.

Laurel bid everyone good night as she made her way to her tent, or more importantly, her notebook. One last drunken stanza managed to scribble its way out before she fell prey to dreams of him:

A stolen kiss by lakeside light

Another time to take my flight.

To you, the Blade, I dedicate

My time, my heart, to shatter fate.

[devilsdenarchive]

ah yes, a classic: ur team decides u get so much involved with the devil, break ur contract, stole the hammer, beat the shit up of him and somehow u managed to took him before his dad eats him

inspired mostly by my other routes (not laurelle's one) cause im gonna have to fight him AND I DONT WANT TO (my other tavs wont make a deal with him, ngl) but at least laurelle will give us some good hurt&comfort

[wolfwhisperertf]

Is this ooc? maybe idc

“Where’s Halsin? 

“I think he went up to the roof” Gale answers as he offers Laurel a plate.

“Did he eat?” Laurel knows Halsin doesn’t like the city but he usually doesn’t just disappear on them unless he’s overwhelmed. 

“I’m not sure, I got up as he was leaving” Gale answers, again trying to hand Laurel the plate.

Finally they take it from him, “I’ll be right back” They kiss Astarion on the cheek as they leave.

“Abandoned for another man so soon after confessing my love” Astarion whispers to himself, faking distress as Laurel flings a tiny potato at him. 

He makes a show of acting injured before sneaking the sprout to Scratch. “Ah, young love~” Jaheira teases Astarion once Laurel disappears up the ladder.

[dearestfirstenchanter]

a moment please, to appreciate the funniest fucking crit in the whole game, nothing i ever do can top this

[ada-melodies]

I'm reblogging this to save it but if you want to ask, feel free! 💜

30 Questions for your Tav

These questions can be used as an Ask Game or just answering them all for fun character development!

(Dark Urge edition here)

What was your Tav’s place of birth and raising like?

What relationship did your Tav have with their family/guardian(s) growing up? Has that changed with age?

Did your Tav receive any formal or informal education? If yes, how well did they learn? If no, why not?

What hobbies does your Tav have? How did they acquire these interests?

Did your Tav have any formal or informal employment? If yes, what was their job? If no, how did they make ends meet? How did they feel about it?

What is your Tav’s favourite childhood memory?

What circumstances led to your Tav becoming their Class/Subclass?

Did your Tav have any romantic and/or sexual relationships prior to their illithid adventure? If yes, who was it with and what was it like? If no, how did they feel about being single?

What was your Tav doing when they were taken by the mind flayers?

What would your Tav consider to be their greatest skill? Is this accurate?

What would your Tav consider to be their greatest flaw? Is this accurate?

What opinion does your Tav have about the Gods?

How does your Tav feel about the wilderness?

How does your Tav feel about the city?

What motivates your Tav to either embrace or resist the tadpole?

How does your Tav feel about killing?

How good of a liar is your Tav? How do they feel about lying?

What is your Tav’s greatest fear?

What is your Tav’s greatest desire?

What is your Tav’s greatest regret?

How does your Tav feel about love?

Has your Tav become particularly close to anyone romantically and/or platonically in their journey? If so, who, and what is the relationship like? If no, why not?

What are 2-3 songs that your Tav would relate to?

What first impression does your Tav give off to strangers?

How does your Tav feel about what others think of them?

Does your Tav have a treasured item with them? If yes, what is it and why is it special? If no, how do they feel about item sentimentality in general?

How does your Tav feel about giving and receiving orders?

How well does your Tav function under pressure?

What advice would you give to your Tav?

What are your Tav’s intentions/goals after the end of the game?

[thewritetofreespeech]

Astarion x Reader

words: 1.5K

rating: T

pairing: Ascended!Astarion x Tav

summary: banking off the Jealous!Tav x Astarion ask, I made one for Ascended verse as well.

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

Astarion let out a deep sigh as he walked through the long corridors of his palace towards his chambers. Who knew being a Vampire Lord would be so taxing?

He thought it would be all blood, japes, and all-consuming-power when he ascended, but noooo. Apparently, all that power did not come with an instantaneous dark underground to control and city at his feet. He had to put in effort. Time. A lot of both, which somedays Astarion thought was just not worth it. But his ambitions would not let him rest on his laurels. Even if he did need a rest for the evening.

The doors let out a heavy echo as they close behind him, and Astarion sighed once more as he undid his overcoat. His attention then turned towards the bed as he saw the bedding move. “Darling?” He questioned curiously but knew it couldn’t be.

Tav was out with Shadowheart. Catching up with their dear friend while she was in the city, for reasons that were probably told to Astarion but he couldn’t be bother to remember since he wasn’t going. For once he let them go unaccompanied but was now hopeful that they came back early over missing him terribly.

“Master?” Astarion’s face paled (metaphorically, as it could not get any paler than it already was) as the sheets pulled back an a young, blonde, naked woman appeared from the covers. “I thought you’d never come back tonight.”

“What are you doing here Azura?” He hissed at his latest spawn. A silly girl who begged him for the gift, and Astarion gave it to her for no other reason than he felt his beloved needed a new chambermaid. “You dare enter my chambers, uninvited, and help yourself to my bed. Have you lost your absolute mind?!”

Astarion wasn’t exactly kind to his spawn, but he wasn’t nearly as cruel as Cazador. Which he knew was a very low bar. He gave them a fine amount of freedom to move about the castle. Updated the dorms so they weren’t as spartan as what he had been forced to endure. Almost never tortured them unless they absolutely needed to be punished. And this is how he was repaid?!

“Yes. I have lost my mind. Lost it for you, my master.” He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Oh Gods, the idiot was in love. He recognized that soft stare and devoted posture. If her, quite literally, naked display wasn’t enough of a clue he could nearly smell the pheromones off her. “I wanted to surprise you. I wanted to please you.”

“You can please me by getting out.” He pointed to the door although he didn’t compel her. He wasn’t sure why. Perhaps he wanted to again be kind and give her the choice. Or just a sick morbid curiosity on how this would play out.

“Leave? You really don’t want me here?” She seemed surprised. Given her beauty this may have been the first time she was rejected, Astarion assumed. It always surprised him when his quarry didn’t take the bait. Perhaps this was a similar feeling for her. “You really don’t want me to stay?”

Azura pulled back the sheets to reveal that she wasn’t truly naked. Just in a thin nightgown that was so transparent it was nearly invisible. Her skin smooth. Her legs long. Her cunt neatly shaved and breast taunt & perky. She’ll lead men to this castle in droves, he thought. Unfortunately, her charms were immune to him.

“Yes. Get out. I won’t repeat myself again.”

The girl jumped off the bed and came closer. Astarion hoped it was for the door, but no such luck. His spawn leaned into him, delicate and wanting. Staring up into his eyes like a lover while he stared back at her with a stern look. “Shouldn’t a master be able to taste what’s his when he likes. Don’t you miss my blood from the first time? Tasting it on your lips?”

He wants to tell her no. That he hasn’t thought about it since that first time. Honestly, he hadn’t thought of her since that first time. But mentions of blood, and the reminder of the power he felt when he took her life and made it his own, does get his own blood to hum.

“You can have it again, if you’d like. Take all of me. A lord, a king, can take anything he wishes. I can be your obedient consort as well. Be one of your most beloved spawn.” As she spoke her body and lips moved closer to him.

“What’s going on here?”

The girl jumped back, quickly. Like she had been licked by fire. Astarion stood still. He hadn’t done anything wrong, technically, so he had no reason to be afraid. Although that cool look in Tav’s eyes was making him seriously question that decision. “I said: what’s going on here?”

“I was….I-I was just….I…”

“You were trying to take my place, eh?” Astarion chuckled at his beloved’s blunt response. Direct and to the point as always.

“Darling, as if she could.” He moved over to Tav. Separating himself completely from his spawn to sooth his consort. “This is just some misplaced adoration of a spawn and their master. Granted we’ve gone a little far…”

“It’s not misplaced! I love you!” There was a growl in Tav’s throat and Astarion huffed at the girl’s childish pleas. He really had been trying to help her here. “I would never leave you alone like they would! I would be loyal to you always! I can be twice the consort they are if you just give me a ch—"

She doesn’t get to finish asking for her chance that would never come. As her head was hanging limp to the side, nearly off her shoulders. Blood gushing from the gaping hole in her throat. Spraying across the room and down her thin negligee. Once translucent material now opaque as it was drenched in crimson. “Well…that was something.”

“It’s not funny Astarion!” Tav yelled at him. Their eyes were wild and angry as they whipped around to glare at him. A powerful shiver running up his spine in the face of that heat.

“Of course it’s funny. All this for something so trivial. As if this scrap of nothing could have replace you. My beloved, perfect consort.” Astarion came close and lifted their bloody hand to kiss it gently. “No one could, would, or ever will replace you, my love. My wicked heart is yours, for all eternity.”

“Why didn’t you tell her that then?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t think it needed to be said.” His poor dead spawn had to know she was taking a long shot when she came here. And if she didn’t then she was too dumb for Astarion to have around anyway. Still, he supposed Tav was right. He could have made more of an effort to stop her. “Still, it is rather cute that you can still get jealous over my affection. It makes me so hot. Watching you fight over me.”

He heard Tav sigh when he kissed by their ear and then jaw. Hearing them mutter, “not much of a fight” which made his cock harden in his breeches.

“Perhaps I should flirt with women and men more often.”

Astarion felt a hard jerk of his own pristine, sharp jaw away from Tav. Their nails digging into the soft skin of his cheek as they stared at them with a blazing hatred he hadn’t seen since the Elder Brain or that disgusting necromancer in the crypt. “Don’t.” A single word. Sharp. Direct.

He doesn’t like to be told ‘no’ often these days. He’s killed men for less presses against his authority. But that sharp look, one that promised his beloved would leave a trail of bodies like rose petals at his feet if he even pretended to be interested in them, made his blood boil with desire. It’s a beat in his heart that echoes his own. The agonies he would face on men who even stared at his beloved too long. Their glances were only for him. Their body was only his. Their conversations, their passions, their life, their loyalty, all of it was his. He supposed the least he could do was not pretend to be fickle with it.

“Very well, my love. I won’t. My sweet words will, as always, be for you alone. Plus, we can’t have your jealousy wreaking havoc all over the castle & city. Just think of the stains.”

He kissed Tav, to reassure them that his love was for them and them alone, picking them up and carrying them to the bed to remind them properly. As he carried them to their bed, he stepped over poor dead, double dead, Azura’s body. Already forgotten. Already not even a memory. Just a stain in the carpet that would need to be sorted out in the morning.

[kittensandkimchi]

In the Lap of the Gods

bg3, gale/tav, hurt comfort, chapter 4/4

Chapter 4: A Reconsideration

June’s feet ache as they walk through the city and back to camp. They’d only been gone the day—no longer than expected—but going to the literal Hells and back, portal or no, is a journey she’d been perhaps a bit mentally unprepared for. Still, the pain in each step has nothing on the already-bubbling blisters on her shoulder. Damned cambions.

She trails Karlach, with Astarion bringing up the rear of the party and Wyll taking a protective but respectfully distant spot alongside her. No one speaks, at least as they walk through the city streets. They risk drawing attention as it is with Karlach twirling the Orphic hammer like a baton, whistling a bawdy drinking tune, though June doesn’t have the heart to tell her to stop. Earlier, on their way to the Devil’s Fee, Astarion had ventured to ask what went on between Gale and her the night before. An elbow to his ribs from Wyll all but ensured that conversation was over before it had begun.

The damage was done, though. It’d soured her mood for the day, and now, as they return, the only sound that cuts through the din of the city evening is Karlach’s whistling—at least until they begin their descent on the stone steps toward the water.

“Smells good,” the tiefling comments. It almost makes June jump after being lost in thought, but she pauses, breathing in deeply. There’s the salty air from the sea, but more—Karlach is right, a warm aroma of spices and stewed meat waft from their camp, growing stronger as they approach.

But Gale hasn’t cooked since—

“All right,” Shadowheart greets them, crossing her arms over her chest as the group arrives. “Who needs patching up?”

Continue reading.

tag list: @elfroot-and-laurels @captastra @vvakarians @mournholdmushroom @galaxywhale @creaking-skull (please DM or reply if you'd like to be added!)

[arxiel]

CRIMSOM THUNDER

Rolan x F!Tav

BACK --- NEXT

Chapter 3: Shadelight

Rating: Explicit (CONTAINS STRONG CONTENT AND ANGST)

Summary: The group of refugees made their way through the mountain pass to reach Shadow curse land. Not knowing that it could be the end for many of the refugees and a horrible experience for the survivors.

Words Count: 4,843

Notes: Im so sorry if the english is BAD, originally i speak spanish, may have some errors.

I've always wondered what they've been through, so I've taken the dialogues that Alfira, Cerys and Rolan said in Last light inn to interpret it as faithfully as possible.

AO3 LINK

CHAPTER INDEX

Or... read Bellow

The breeze at dawn was blowing through the grove, all the refugees had collected their belongings to leave for their journey. Rolan carefully arranged all his personal belongings in his bag, not forgetting his important book with Lorroakan's letter.

The walk was peaceful, and there would be conversations among some refugees to lighten the mood as others kept their words to themselves to avoid wasting their energy as they walked. 

Stories of ancient heroes would be told to entertain children and Rolan's brothers told about the heroics of other famous heroes to the little ones. 

Rolan walked in step with the others, practising the new spells in his head. 

They would arrive at the mountain pass in a few days time without any problems, the Githyankis that Zorru had sighted would have already left and the path would be a little safer. The beauty of the sunset on the mountain pass was be enormous, with the leaves barely dried by the autumn stage and the environment decorated with the sunlight in its last stages of the day; A sight that is not equalled anywhere, even in the cities. 

Although Rolan doesn't like being surrounded by nature, he enjoys these views and would never say no to taking time to enjoy it until the next sunrise. 

Halfway through the mountain pass, the refugees would began to set up the camp for one last night before moving into dark lands, the atmosphere would slightly transform into purple colours, delighting even more the last views of the sun. 

At nightfall Mrs. Okta cooked the dinner for the refugees, displeased to water down the broth even more, and her son Ikaron, despite having been a guard in Elturel, helped his old mother pass the dishes to the children and adults, even though they were even fewer refugees than they had been when they left Elturel.  

Lakrissa and Afira would talk with Dammon while letting the siblings Cal and Lia relate the story of how 'the heroine of the grove' saved the day and how she fared in battle. 

Curious to Rolan's ears, the children had an admiration for Yvainne, the way the others would tell her story made her seem like someone stocky and tall, a stereotypical hero in a big way when she is a puny, slightly shorter than any other woman and dangerously skilled with magic, but has good dexterity, worthy of being a hunter. 

"There was no need to twist reality to benefit her..." It passed through Rolan's head as he kept flipping through his book. 

The hours passed before everyone started to eat dinner, Rolan leaning against the rocks noticed a slight glow among the rocks near the cliff, he left the bowl of thin soup and approached it. 

An unusual object was buried in the dirt, but it glowed in the light of the campfire. He carefully picked it up from the dirt and cleaned it with his fingertips; it was a hairpin made of gold with a star-shaped decoration.

That unique golden glow in the darkest night close to the mountainous forest landscape would remind Yvainne's eyes as green as laurel leaves and the centre as golden as the sun. Something that his memory wouldn't forget as easily as her freckles, long and disorganised hair as black as a crow's wings.  

Each time he looks at that hairpin he only thinks about seeing her again to pick up her hair and decorate it with that ornament to see that face with those beautiful eyes in particular...

Instantaneously he blinked his eyes strongly and put the hairpin in his pocket, he didn't like to think about those things, he felt weak and he hated it. 

With what happened at the waterfalls, the fight with the goblins and the moment at the party it felt like the gods had made her to annoy him. He wasn't in her league at all, she was surrounded with interesting companions who seemed to have a special interest in her, and he's just a cocky apprentice wizard. 

One of those days if he saw her again he'd go mad.  But for his good fortune or not, maybe he wouldn't see her again. 

"Rolan, Mrs. Okta is asking why you haven't finished your soup." Cal's voice would bring him out of his thoughts. "I'll be there in a moment." Rolan headed for his dinner plate in the company of his brothers. 

They would talk more about their walking corns and sunburn until the conversations became interesting fot two of them.

"We didn't talk much about that night of the party." Rolan choked on his food as he heard Lia bring up that conversation. 

"Oh yes. The night when my brother and sister humiliated me awfully by drunken dancing." Rolan blurted out with almost an aggressive edge to his words before politely consuming his soup. 

"And we also interrupted your most intimate moment with her." Cal said, turning his lips to his cup of water. Rolan spat the food near Lia at which she laughed. Her cheeks would slowly flush as her brothers laughed mockingly.  

"No, we didn't. - I was avoiding being associated with drunken idiots by staying away from the party. Nothing happened there, I just showed her how to do the lights.  Absolutely nothing happened." Said Rolan who turned redder than he already was. 

"Alone with Yvainne, and nothing happened; hells, you must have fucked it up." Said Lia with a malicious smile. 

"No! No, just no." Rolan's words would begin to falter.  "That tells us everything." Cal said with a chuckle. Rolan would look away in an attempt to ignore his brothers' taunts. It was difficult to explain that situation, he had let himself be carried away by the wine and the previous dangerous situation. But the realisation that his brothers were eager for an answer would lead him to be partially honest. 

"If you two hadn't come drunk...." Rolan murmured, his brothers heard him, both exchanged glances with excitement. 

"Next time, put your lights in the sky so that we don't disturb you." Lia excitedly shook Cal, Rolan brought his hands to his face to cover the obvious nervousness that his siblings would easily provoke.  He didn't know if it would be a next time, he'd be too busy learning magic with his new master Lorroakan, but he'd let his siblings get carried away with the excitement. 

His brothers didn't bring up that subject again, although very deep down Rolan wanted to tell his brothers how pretty she was under that hair, he wouldn't do it, they would tease him again and this time it would be for days. Even though it was evident that there was something growing between them, and it would grow even more if they met again, he wouldn't admit that he had genuine interest in a person. 

At the time of everyone's rest, Rolan covered Cal and Lia with a blanket to keep them warm in the camp. As he leaned close to his siblings, he would open his book and practice again in absolute silence. 

As he leaned back he would feel a twinge in his side, as he removed the discomfort he would notice that the discomfort was that hairpin. Looking again at that ornament he carefully placed it on the page on which it was located so as not to lose the page and passed the letter of Lorroakan to the end parts of the book. Now he could see the page more clearly without having to turn the letter to other pages. 

His thoughts turned to how to present himself in the city and how the Baldureans would see him. He is a tiefling and people would judge him by what happened in Elturel, although with the letter it is certain that they will have a good place in the area. His concern for his siblings would come up again, he would not want his brother and sister suffer discrimination, but one thing is for sure, Lia would protect Cal from anyone who would try to hurt him, as well as him he'll protect her. 

A hand brought him out of his thoughts, it was Asharak, he'd silently gesture for him to follow him, and Rolan returned the book to his bag with extreme care so that the hairpin wouldn't fall out. 

Asharak escorted Rolan to an area where the cathedral could be seen in the distance. Zevlor observed the night scenery in awe. 

"Ah, boy, I wondered if you might in the mood for a conversation." Zevlor said without looking away from the breathtaking scenery. 

"It seemed you needed the wisdom of a wizard." Said Rolan, crossing his arms with a cheeky smile. 

"You're not far wrong boy. -You see we're not so far from the entrance to Shadows cursed land and we need all the fire burning we can get in specific spots so that the refugees don't suffer the curse. If the shadows try to extinguish them, it would be helpful to chase them away with your magic." Rolan nodded at Zevlor's specific instructions. 

"I will do what I can, for my brothers, don't be mistaken, Zevlor." the paladin nodded his understanding at Rolan's words. 

"If anything happens to us, and I hope by the mercy of the gods it doesn't. You will take our place along with Cerys and lead these people to Baldur's gate." Rolan paled at Asharak's comment.  Of all the possible leaders he would accept Cerys, one of the scouts of Elturel, becoming leader. But himself? 

It is a burden he would not like to bear, but there would be no other way. 

Zevlor would laugh at Rolan's expression. 

"You should not frighten him my friend, it is a hypothetical case, as long as we remain enlightened nothing will happen to us, simply everyone will be frightened of the shadowy whispers, but if anyone comes near be assured that my sword will speak for itself, it is just a precaution." said Zevlor with a heroic look on his face. Surely his strength and leadership can take on the shadows of the cursed lands. 

"That was all boy, you can go rest again, tomorrow we leave for the shadow cursed land." Rolan nodded as Zevlor gave him the signal to leave.  The only thing running through his mind was that he would be a very bad leader if anything happened to the others, he doesn't have the patience to lead, he's not like... Yvainne.

He breathed the air before turning to his siblings again. For the night's movements they would be uncovering themselves by accident. Rolan returned to cover them up to their necks with the blanket and lay down near them to rest. He only knew that for Cal and Lia he would protect them with his life and if possible in death as well. 

It wasn't hard to wake up, the sunrise would be as bright as the sunset and it was a glorious feeling and Rolan knew it by feeling the warmth of the sun. 

By contrast, his brothers would have had a harder time waking up on their own, being heavy sleepers.  

"I think I got a pebble stuck in me while I was sleeping." Lia grumbled as she rubbed her side, Rolan would grin at the situation. Once Cal and Lia were ready, they helped lift the belongings of the other refugees to leave the camp. 

Although it was difficult to keep the children quiet and the oxen still tired, they continued on their way. As they continued on their way there were signs in the area that they were close as plants were swallowed up and some dead animals. 

Some refugees began to talk to lighten the silence in the face of the difficult path, Rolan remained restlessly reading his book again and looked up at the hairpin that reminded him of those eyes, he couldn't avoid smiling and even more so as his brothers retold their story to entertain the people. 

"I know that Look from anywhere, who is it?" Bex would approach him to look at the book, Rolan would slam it shut with a jolt. 

"You confuse a peaceful smile with any stupidity, just go to your husband, I don't have to deal with you." said Rolan, giving her a little tap on the shoulder. Bex went jumping up and down with her husband to gossip about him.

Rolan rolled his eyes, he's already tired of it, first his heated mind thinking of someone he may never see again, then his brothers and now the tiefling couple, there was no place for those feelings anymore and even less especially when is near the cursed lands, it's time to focus.  

Along the way he kept mentally practising with the magic to perfect it. 

"Mmm perhaps i could make modifications to the spells to make them more powerful."  He muttered to himself.  Rolan wagged his tail with excitement, he could try, varying his inner magic he could make these modifications, it wasn't really forbidden. He would practice with his fingers to try, flexing them properly and feel the magic flow differently in his veins. 

His eyes widened in surprise, it was really possible, his excitement rising even more as he unleashed a genuine smile on his own face. He couldn't wait until arriving at the camp to do it. 

Inspired he closed the book and put it in the bag, it was more than enough and already there was no time to continue reviewing, the heavy atmosphere indicated that the time had come. 

Twisted trees, blackened earth and dead animals all around. Alfira, Cal and Lia would try to calm the frightened children, Dammon would secure the goods to avoid accidents on the road, Zevlor would give the instructions to set up the protective formation in order not to get separated from the road in the shadows.  

Those selected as the points of light lit their torches, some of them calmed the oxen so they would not break ranks out of fear. 

Once done, Zevlor would take the first step into the darkness of the twisting trees, followed by a few refugees and hellriders. Lia would take Rolan and Cal by the hand before taking the steps to proceed into the darkness. 

"It really was everything they said...".

There was no more sun, no more heat, just darkness incarnate.  

Reithwin is nothing more and no less than a dead land reigned by shadows, adorned with twisted trees, spiky vines, blood-red grasses and dried plants. The smell was damp like graveyard dirt, but even heavier, even stinging on the nose. 

Although around the refugees they have torches for light, the necrotic energy is even more powerful than what was mentioned and could instantly harm any living thing. As if something was feeding it even more. 

"We must go on, do not fear, under the torchlight we will be safe." Zevlor said in a loud and confident voice. The group began to move forward in fear and silence. 

The pace became more difficult as the shadows groaned as they tried to drown out the light of the torches, other shadows tried to seduce some of the weaker refugees out of the group and consume them, but none were deterred by fear. 

"I could never imagine setting foot in these lands, the darkness is so heavy..." Cal squeezing his arms tightly around him. 

"Don't worry, we'll be fine, the walk may be a little long, but with the torches we'll be all right." Lia said with a nervous smile, patting his brother's back.

Something felt wrong about the whole place, there were empty settlements and cages, the others didn't care, but Rolan would be nervous about them, campfires with embers, it's definitely not just shadowland anymore. 

The sound of one of the wagons falling and the sound of falling metal would catch the group's attention, one of the oxen would begin to be blackened to death. Dammon's wares were already by the shadows, he would try to collect the most important things to take with him to get closer to the group as quickly as possible. 

"One of the oxen succumbed to the shadows, there's not much I can do." Dammon said broken, some of the hard work was already with the shadows, but he kept the notes and some research he had. 

"There's no problem, when we get to the city everything... everything will be fine." Alfira said patting Dammon on the back before continuing down the path. 

The shadows would seem to quiet down in a few moments as they would reach a path that included several roads, movements could be heard amongst the grasses instead of the shadows. Something wrong and Rolan's nerves would become more evident. 

"Everything all right?" Lia asked looking at her brother, she tried to place one of her hands on his shoulder, but he would turn his gaze abruptly with real terror in his eyes. 

"It looks like an ambush...." whispered Rolan to which Lia and Cal tried to warn as many people as possible to stay calm and run as soon as they had the chance.  

But up ahead the children began to cry and scream, they were being quickly and silently surrounded, not by shadows, but by Absolute cultists, the same ones who wanted to raid the grove. 

The group started to move closer together as the cultists began to corner them like animals. 

Rolan's heartbeat quickened to a terrifying pace, a cold sweat would break out as he saw them draw their weapons. His instinct led him to grab the hands of his brothers who would also look terrified. 

When they threatened Zevlor by pointing a crossbow at him he dropped to his knees touching his head as if in severe pain, a reaction that had also been seen on Yvainne during the battle with the goblins. 

Some of the refugees would draw their weapons to defend the others, but a voice familiar to Rolan would shock him. 

"Put down your weapons. We are refugees heading for Baldur's gate, we are not enemies, please let us go." pleaded Zevlor, some absolutists would look closely at the tiefling. 

"Oh yes The Absolute, it has an interest in you, it has an interest in some of you, hell spawn. The Absolute wants to see who is of use and who will be sacrificed." The children began to cry louder as they listened to the absolutist, Asharak would try his best to calm the children whispering to them that all will be fine. 

Rolan's chest shrank as he listened to Zevlor, he became dizzy as he tried to look at the others. 

One of the absolutists would grab Asharak by the horn to pull him away from the group and place them in front of the frightened tieflings. 

"We'll examine you. Line up, now! Or this spawn dies." He pointed a sword at the tiefling's neck with sadism. The refugees obeyed with panic on their faces. 

"Zevlor by the gods do something! You can't let them do this to us, this is why we fight in the grove!" - Lia cried out in desperation, turning her anguished gaze to the Paladin. Zevlor looked at the young woman in sadness with true surrender in his eyes, Rolan would look into those eyes , the only salvation was giving them over to death. 

"Absolute is the only way..." Said Zevlor with pain in his words, looking away. 

"Close your eyes, children, please..." Asharak said with difficulty, in his eyes could be seen the sadness of knowing that this was going to be his true end and he was trying to assimilate it.   In a merciless act, the absolutist gouged out the tiefling's eyes. His screams of agony made the refugees shiver and weep, and they proceeded to cut out his tongue to drown out those screams. The choking sound left Rolan with a helplessness that turned to revulsion. 

"Yes! Yes!! beg for your life! This is what will happen if you don't obey The Absolute's will" At that, Asharak's body would be thrown down to the ground and they would aggressively grab Ikaron's arm, his mother tried to pull his arm and one of the Absolutists kicked her out of the way. 

"Don't touch my son! Leave him, please don't touch him! Take me, but not my son!"  Okta shouted in desesperation.  Rolan would turn his eyes away to avoid looking, he didn't know Ikaron but had engaged in a few conversations with him, her screams and sobs pleading for her son filled his throat with despair. 

Hearing the blood spilling followed by Ikaron's screams, Mrs. Okta yelled out loud in fury, her only son had been slaughtered like a hog, in her act of impulsiveness she rushed to her son in tears, and another of the occultists shot her in the back causing her to fall beside her son. Tieflings' panic and terror would be hard to contain and the occultists threatened to slash the children's throats if they didn't calm down. 

The lump in Rolan's throat rose in frustration, he couldn't let this happen, eventually it will be his brothers' turn. He hoped with all his heart that Yvainne and his strange party would come out of nowhere to save them again; that's what heroes do, saving people when they need it most, at any time. 

But that would not happen. 

Rolan started to tremble in helplessness, he shook his head and tried to blink hard to wake up from this real nightmare, but it was not like that, this is more than reality. 

They were cornered and lined up like dogs. 

What good are heroes if they are not present in the face of the danger of the innocent? 

No one would come to save them and any attempt to escape would put everyone in danger.... 

Nobody... Not even Yvainne could save them... 

"Tormento" 

From Rolan's fingers shot out spheres of red light that would hurt several occultists. 

"I'd rather rot in the shadows than give in to any of you, Bastards!" Rolan stood up preparing a lightning spell, his eyes glowed like flames. 

Lia got up dryly to throw a rock at the archer cultist's head to make him drop his weapon to grab her bow and strike at the remaining archers that would threaten to hurt her brother, Cal would slash the back of their knees with his spear to bleed them out. It was like facing goblins, some will take the opportunity to escape from the cultists. The three brothers bravely fought against the cultists who would threaten them. They had hoped that Zevlor with a glimmer of hope would rise up and fight. 

But he didn't, he has remained on his knees, surrendered, and the Cultists would take him away. 

"Capture as many as you can and take them to the Moonrise towers, necromancer Balthazar will be pleased, with the ones who are fighting."  Said one of the cultists with a delighted smirk. 

Some of the refugees would fall to the cultists as more came taking other tieflings as prisoners, Cerys led the few adult tieflings to safety, other tieflings would turn away to run in the opposite direction.

The children stood in shock at the carnage, Rolan stepped in front of the children while casting another spell. 

"Alfira take the children now!" Rolan shouted to give the bard a cue. She attempted to take the children, but they too would be cornered from behind.

Rolan would notice those cultists behind them. 

If he tries to face the ones in front of him, the children would be lost, and if he tried to face the ones surrounding the children, he would die or worse. 

His heart would race with anxiety, he was doing his best not to perish in the face of the cultists. He had limited time to think properly. 

Suddenly Cal and Lia stood in front of him to save their brother. He would feel his blood chilling to see his siblings in front of him protecting in order for him to conjure the spell. 

"Run, Rolan!" Cal shouted, preparing to strike with his spear.

"The children needs you, save them."  Lia said hoarsely, but there was a look of determination in her eyes. 

"No, I will not leave you behind, I will fix this, just step aside and..." Rolan panicked, the children needed him and his brothers were willing to cover him to save him as well, he could not choose either of them. - If he chose his siblings the children would die and he will never forgive himself, but on the other hand his brother and sister is the most important thing in his life, it is his whole world, his world that he had fought so hard to get to where they are.

He couldn't choose, he can't, his senses would be clouded by the stress of the situation, he couldn't react or speak, there was an internal conflict with himself to try to manage it.  

"We love you, asshole."  When Lia uttered her last words both brothers rushed towards the cultists. 

"Detono" 

Rolan without time threw thunderwave towards the cultists in the back who went for the children, he quickly grabbed the arm of a frightened girl to take her away along with Alfira and the other children. 

Rolan's chest felt heavy, the lump in his throat would intensify each time he heard the shouts of the others who covered their backs for Rolan to protect the survivors from the cultists. 

They would cross the bridge of the old inn that seemed to be protected by shadows. 

Guards would shoot at the remaining cultists to clear the way, others would help the wounded children and tieflings.  Several people would tend to them, clearly wearing the badge of a harp on their armour. 

Harpers...

The loose organisation which tries to maintain balance and fight villainy throughout Faerun. A very familiar face would appear among the Harpists. Jaheira, the High Harpist, heroine of Baldur's Gate.

The refugees and the high harpist would approach Rolan to ask them questions at the same time.  

He couldn't hear the questions, he couldn't see due to his blurred vision. He just wanted to go back for his brother and sister. 

On impulse he turned to run back into the shadows, but some vines grabbed his feet, preventing him from taking another step. Rolan would turn to face the old half elf woman angrily. 

"Let me go, damn you! I must save them!"  Rolan would shout, as the vines stretched across his legs and arms, preventing him from using magic to free himself. 

"For the nine hells I must save them! they're my brother and sister!"  He was forced to his knees by the vines. Tears would well up in him, completely clouding his judgement.  Sorrow and wrath flooded him, his brothers had sacrificed themselves for him to save the rest of them, or at least a part of them. 

He endured the sorrowful tears that threatened to spill out as he tried to pull himself free from the vines. But each attempt to break free stung and burned on his skin. It was clear they didn't want to let him get out, he bowed his head in surrender. 

It was useless to leave, they were gone anyway if he returned to that place and that would hurt him even more. The vines dissipated and a few harpists would block the entrance. 

Alfira touched his shoulder in consolation, but he would turn away abruptly. 

"Don't touch me, you worthless bard-" Rolan waved his hands; Dammon tried to converse with him, but he averted his gaze. 

Without listening to anybody else he stood up and moved into the inn. His gaze stopped on Bex who had tears in her eyes and alone, without her husband. 

"That's why it was stupid to stay in the grove, I stayed in the grove thanks to Yvainne because of her goddamned hero speech, I thought it'd have been worth it, but it looks like it was all a bloody disappointment." Rolan spoke in a furious tone, desperately trying to get everyone to stay away from him.  

His chest even ached at the mention of her name. If he had kept his word, his brothers would still be with him. If he had not listened to his heart they would be with him. They would have already left for the city if not for her. 

Flooded with rage he would whip his bag of scrolls and his precious book to the canteen floor. Ignoring everything he would walk alone outside on the terrace to scream out all the pain he felt, a pain that would tear him apart and burn him alive before he threw himself to the ground in tears. 

Nothing mattered to him anymore, not the letter from Lorroakan, not the scrolls, not the book. 

For him there was nothing than stinging pain and the eternal moments of each tear flowing down his cheek. 

END OF ACT 1

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

BACK --- NEXT

[octxvixcolemxn]

"I know, it's good to have me back," Tav said, smiling as she clinked her glass against Laurel's, "I have a gift for you by the way. I didn't know how this night would end so I didn't bring it in case you ended up carrying it around in a nightclub all night," she explained with a laugh.

@laurelcllivanders

[ada-melodies]

"Let me take care of you this time, Zevlor" (2/2)

Second part of the gifset, this time with Astarion kiss on the mod. The way you can get this two staring at eachother??? They don't have any decorum...

[hunny-pp]

character sheets of my tavs with their main three outfits and a little char info on them (u should totally ask me more abt them)

[havealotonmymind]

The Ballad of the Blade Sneak Peek

My first time writing a Wyll/Tav fic! Introducing, my bard!Tav Laurel, a hopeless romantic who fell in love with him at first sight lol

Escaping with several new companions in tow was no easy feat, but one she accomplished with as much grace as one could muster on an organic ship made of guts. With the tadpole threatening to upend her whole world, she and all her new friends had very little time to waste. Laurel would have to set aside her poetry and songwriting for after they were cured.

Enter the Blade of Frontiers, stage right. It took only one princely introduction, a single dashing smile, for her to fall.

Truly, the Blade of Frontiers was a tale she hoped to capture, body and soul. He cut a fine figure and appreciated a good bit of wordplay besides. Surely it wouldn’t hurt for her first bard tale to center on a prolific hero who lived up to his reputation.

The first verse she spun was a poor one:

From death he spun,

By nature true

The boldest Blade

Rapier he drew

Goblins thwarted and mad worgs slain

Through his courage, the Coast heals ‘gain.

Sloppy work. Her teachers would tut at her for such clumsy rhymes. Fresh as a seedling just beginning to sprout, this feeling was something that needed to be tended to with care. Wyll was an easygoing sort who didn’t pay much heed to her flirtations, but she didn’t mind. She wouldn’t force it upon him if he didn’t feel the same.

Besides, with a goblin invasion imminent, it wasn’t exactly the best time to gallivant. Alas, there always seemed to be something.

[devilsdenarchive]

laurelle FINALLY met raphael (kinda she was made as tav for this purpose) and cant stop laughing about her upset face in ALL the scenes

her backstory involves becoming a warlock from infernal path for a lot of reasons, but one mission: finding raphael and convince him to become her patron.

sadly the game doesnt allowed laurelle to make a deal at the first scene :( she would have JUMP to sign the document

[wolfwhisperertf]

WIP Wednesday!

“Do you plan to stalk in the shadows all night?” Laurel asks as they carefully sneak out of Yenna's bed. 

“I didn’t want to interrupt you” Astarion states as they move into his personal space. 

“That might have been for the best” Laurel offers as they lick a finger to clean a drop of dried blood from Astarion’s cheek. He flinches at their wrist being so close to his mouth, he intends to keep his promise to never bite them without asking first. “Star?”

“Sorry, I…” He doesn’t know how to ask, it should be easy. After everything, after Cazador, he’s safe with Laurel they would never deny him this but his tongue refuses to form the words. 

“Need something more filling?” Laurel mimics the words Astarion had said back when they were barely even friends. 

“Please” Astarion breathes.