#lucan the elf

[hunter-the-sad-skeleton]

The final Goretober post with everything I managed to do for it! I skipped some days, as I couldn't think of what to do for some of the prompts!(Reblogs appreciated!)

[wild-magic-oops]

I've read a lot of absolute dogshit takes about DATV but "Davrin should've been a templar" takes the cake with its bizarre existence and complete wrongness

[nightflower-stuff]

✨ My TDP OCs & Ruthari Doodle 💅

{1st & 2nd slide}:

- Adult version of Loreleia & Valindra (Arc 3) 💗

- For the reunited of Humans & Elves live in peace together. During the night gala, Loreleia & her family visit King Ezran's castle for the royal ball. She sees her beautiful princess/queen was Valindra. She was accepted her for a dance. Her family looked at them proudly ❤️🥰🤝

- As for Loreleia's right eye get scratch. In Season 7 for the battle against Aaravos & his minions/creations. Some of the monster scratch her right eye 👀.

{3rd slide}:

- Runaan & Ethari on a snow date❄️

- Runaan carries his boyfriend, Ethari for not getting hurt. He was getting embarrassed infront of the public 🙈

{4th slide}:

- Aurora gladly to see Runaan came back (S7 Spoilers 👀)❤️

- Rayla, Runaan & their friends went to the outside of the moon Nexus for a breakfast. Lujanne told Runaan about the friend. He realized that it was Aurora. She sees her friend was came back 🤯❣️

{Last slide}:

- Ruthari in the mistletoe (ft. Lucan) 🎄

- While their children are gonna continue the decorations. Someone put up of the mistletoe. When Ethari & Runaan came each other & sees it up. Lucan told his son Ethari to help making the decorated of Christmas holidays 🎄. Runaan thinking it's about romantic of mistletoe as he kissed his husband get surprised & shocked. Runaan's father-in-law gets shocked & angrily at the Moonshadow Elf 😜♥️💘

- I drew Ethari's new look in S7 plus Lucan was always overprotective father of Ethari from Runaan like he's overprotective father of Rayla from Callum in Season 7. 😂

OCs:

Lucan (Ethari's overprotective father & Chaedi's husband)

Aurora (Runaan's Fairy Guardian & Friend)

Next Gen OCs:

Loreleia (Daughter of Runaan & Ethari, sister of Rayla)

Valindra (Daughter of Queen Lythienne)

[wowtalesofadventurers]

Sci-Fi September: Time Travel

A World of Warcraft fanfiction for @thepromptfoundry event Sci-Fi September day 16 Time Travel. There is a in game area known as the Cavern of Time that allow you to travel back to moments in Warcraft history, and this one have my ocs during the infamous Culling of Stratholme.

The Bronze Dragon said to Lucan and his party of Onluun the Draenei warrior, Simonette the human mage, Alanriana the night elf huntress, and Xalli the draenei priestess, "Heroes of the Allaince, while this will troubled your hearts, you must travel back to the Culling of Stratholme and allowed events to happened." The Bronze Dragon then open a portal to the past to the

Lucan and his party find themselves in a cellar in a inn when a man named Michael Belfast see them and shout at the five, "Hey! You five clear out of my cellar! I don't know what a high elf, a dwarf, and a gnome was also doing there, but I know you two love birds were about to do dirty things in there." Lucan and Simonette were confused before they realized that Alanriana look like a high elf ranger, Onluun look like a dwarf, and Xali look like a gnome. Still, the five left the inn.

The party find the crates of plague grain and head out to find Arthas.

The party catch up with Princess Arthas and Jaina Proudmoore, whose meet Uther the Lightbringer, to the paladin joy, with their armies as Arthas said to his teacher at the gates of Stratholme, "Glad you could make it, Uther." which Uther said, "Watch your tone with me, boy. You may be the prince, but I'm still your superior as a paladin!" Alanriana give Lucan a nod which the human paladin make his way to Arthas as the prince said, "As if I could forget. Listen, Uther, there's something about the plague you should know..." before Lucan cut him off as he said, "Prince Arthas, my scout party find crates of the plague grain inside Stratholme. Arthas got shocked with horror as he said, "Oh, no. We're too late." and he look at Stratholme as the prince look at his people, "These people have all been infected! They may look fine now, but it's just a matter of time before they turn into the undead!" Uther said in shock, "What?" and Arthas think for a moment as he look troubled about the news that Lucan reveal before he turn to Uther and said, "This entire city must be purged." Everyone was shocked at hearing this as Uther said in anger, "How can you even consider that? There's got to be some other way." Arthas shout at his teacher, "Damn it, Uther! As your future king, I order you to purge this city!" which Uther said, "You are not my king yet, boy! Nor would I obey that command even if you were!" Arthas said in a grim tone, "Then I must consider this an act of treason." Uther said in shocked, "Treason? Have you lost your mind, Arthas?" which Arthas reply, "Have I? Lord Uther, by my right of succession and the sovereignty of my crown, I hereby relieve you of your command and suspend your paladins from service." Jaina speak up, "Arthas! You can't just-" but Arthas cut her off, "It's done! Those of you who have the will to save this land, follow me! The rest of you... get out of my sight!" and the Knights of the Silver Hand along with all but some of Arthas forces left as Uther warn the prince, "You've just crossed a terrible theshold, Arthas." and he take his leave, with Jaina following him to the shock of the prince as he said, "Jaina?" and she stop for a moment without turning around and said to Arthas, "I'm sorry, Arthas. I can't watch you do this." and followed Uther. After a moment, Arthas see Lucan and his party and said to him, "You, paladin! I see you didn't follow Uther disobey his future king!" and he then said to his men, "Take position here, and I along with this paladin will lead a small force inside Stratholme to begin the culling. We must contain and purge the infected for the sake of all Lordaeron!" As Arthas forces cheer, the five time travelvers know that this marks the beginning of the fall of Arthas as they and the prince walk to Strathole and a citizen whose see them said, "Prince Arthas, please help us! I feel sick!" which the prince reply, "I can only help you with a clean death." to the shock of the citizen before Arthas killed him. Suddenly, a number of Infinite Dragonflight forces appear and Arthas said, "The dreadlord hiding appears to have more Scourge in his arsenal. Let us meet them in battle."

Once the party killed most of the Infinite Dragonflight and Arthas and his force killed a number of the citizen and catch up with them, the prince said to them, "There you are! You will rest a moment to clean your lungs, but we must move again soon. Mal'Ganis is supposed to be in Crusaders' Square, which is just ahead."

As the party and Arthas enter Crusaders' Square, the dreadlord appear and he said to the group, "I've been waiting for you, young prince. I am Mal'Ganis." Soon, fallen bodies raise as members of the undead as Mal'Ganis said to them, "As you can see, your people are now mine. I will now turn this city household by household, until the flame of life has been snuffed out forever." and Arthas shout at the demon, "I won't allow it, Mal'Ganis! Better that these people die by my hand than serve as your slaves in death!" and he and the party change into party.

After a battle, Mal'Ganis said to Arthas and the party, "Your journey has just begun, young prince. Gather your forces, and meet me in the arctic land of Northrend. It is there we shall settle the score between us. It is there that your true destiny will unfold." and he flee which the angry prince call out, "I'll hunt you to the ends of Azeroth if I have to. Do you hear me? TO THE ENDS OF AZEROTH!" As he get a moment to breath, Lucan ask, "Prince Arthas?" which Arthas turn to them and said to the five time travelers, "You five has performed well this day. Anything that Mal'Ganis has left behind is yours. Take it as your reward. I must now begin plans for an expedition to Northrend." and Arthas left the scene as the five return to their time.

[thevoiceofthebard]

Chapter 13 - Uthgerd IV: Bleak Falls Barrow

Middas 20th of Last Seed 4E201 Late Evening

Uthgerd

"I still can't believe how... Messy that trap was."

Talao, head still in the journal we lifted from the... Remains of the bandit, looked queasy still. "Can't say I disagree with you on that one." The sight of a man pinned against a wall, impaled by wooden spikes was... Gristly, to say the least.

He sighed, turning a page. "Shame. I did try to warn him there could be more traps, albeit subtly. I suppose I'll have to be more direct in the future."

"You did?"

"When I mentioned the puzzle trap from earlier."

"Ah." Frankly, the coward was asking for it, barreling through a ruin the way he did. Who wouldn't expect something to happen? He might've been able to outrun Draugr, but one dead end and he would have been helpless. Not to mention his obvious attempt at escaping. Served him right. Talao grunted, distracted again by the book in front of him. For some reason, I found myself comparing the two of them, what little I knew at least. They were both small and skinny, obviously, with no talent for fighting, but that was it. The dark elf had run at the first sign of danger, where Talao had stayed, despite his weakness. No to mention how he saved me at the entrance earlier. And the bandit was fool enough to run into a trap despite being warned, whereas Talao...

Hang on. Talao was smart enough to realize there would be traps, and to warn the bandit about them. Was he naive enough to just tell a possible enemy that, and expect him to not take the selfish route of taking the treasure for himself? Or did he do it to give the elf a choice to stay with us, safe, or run off and die? It seemed at odds with the peaceful presence he usually put forth. Seems there's more to this man than first I thought.

"We're here."

My thoughts cut short, I look up at an imposing wall. Nordic designs cover it, and there are large circular plates with pictures on them, as well as an odd dish in the center, with three holes set in it. But most importantly, it was a dead end. "So where's the door? You sure this is it?"

"Yes. The 'Hall of Stories.'" Rather than the wall ahead of us, Talao stares at some of the murals on the side walls. "Fascinating bas-relief sculptures. Very early Nordic, nearly Nedic. I suppose it is a Hall of Stories, after all. I wonder what this one tells of."

"Which one?" I look. "Seems to be about a local Dragon Priest."

"Really? How can you tell?"

Something the 'bard' doesn't know. What a novel experience. "Well, see this figure here is the Dragon Priest. They all were depicted as having some special mask, which supposedly held great power within them, and were part of the source of their own powers. The first panel shows him performing some feat of magic, and the Nords below are cowering in fear. This second one shows them worshiping the Priest, and tithing gifts to him. And this last one," a picture full of the screaming and dying, "shows those same people being destroyed by their supposed deity."

"Huh. I'm impressed."

"Really?" Is he making fun of me?

"Well, the Dragon Cult isn't the most widespread of stories. Few have heard tell of it, or its adherents."

"Maybe not in High Rock, but all of Skyrim was once under their rule," I say, gesturing to the wall. "You bards sometimes seem to forget that all stories have some person's history wrapped up in it."

"I would never..." he stops.

Did I just render him speechless? That'd be a first, and I feel quite a bit of pride for it. For all Talao's bluster, he's human too. "Come on, let's get this door open. Does the journal say anything about it?"

"Um... Ah yes. The bandit, Arvel, writes about 'the power of the ancient Nordic heroes,' as well as the man he stole it from - a Lucan Valerius? Let's see," he ruffles the pages again, as if searching for a specific spot. "Key, Bleak Falls Barrow, Hall of Stories, legend... A test to 'keep the unworthy away." I'd desperately like to know where he heard all this. Ah, here. 'When you hold the golden claw, the solution is in the palm of your hands.'"

I wait a moment, until it's clear no further information is coming from Talao. "Well that's frustratingly vague." And therefore probably accurate. No one would call the Nords a subtle race, but we're as fond of our wordplay as any other. I hold out the claw, talons pointed away from me, inspecting it against the wall. Three nails, three holes. Clearly where the "key" goes, so I try placing it within, and twist it as if it were an actual key. No response. It doesn't budge at all. However, I notice that the gold of the claw isn't completely smooth. "There's a bunch of odd runes on it. Nothing I can understand."

"Let me see. Hm, it seems to be late Nedic. All traits they valued, I suppose. This one says 'pride,' and this is 'valor.' Nothing about a door."

"What about those carvings on the door itself? What do those mean?"

"Odd... These aren't runes at all, but pictographs. Just animal murals with no deeper meaning."

I'm stumped, and so is Talao, if the strange look on his face is anything to go by. What did that bandit know that we don't? "'The solution is in the palm of your hands,'" I mutter.

"The palm... Wait. What if it's meant literally?" Talao exclaims. "We keep holding it like this, with the talons pointed away so we don't stab ourselves. What if the solution is in the palm of the claw, where our own palms have been?"

He turns it over, and we both look. While Talao is translating more of the runes, I notice something out of place. "Look there, in the middle. Three of those pictographs, hidden in the runes."

"By Y'ffre, you're right. The empty space makes out the animals. Good eye, Uthgerd. I see... From top to bottom a bear, a... Butterfly? Maybe a moth? Then an owl."

I look at the wall again. "The pictures up here are out of order, though."

"They probably move or rotate." He's right; the large circular segments run along some kind of rail, grinding smoothly, despite their age. "So... Bear, then moth, then owl." Each one clicks into place. "Now, try the claw."

Again I insert the claw into the central disk, pushing it in. I feel something catch, and it twists to the right. I expect some kind of door, but instead the entire wall begins to slowly descend into the floor. "Amazing."

"Magnificent." It's quite exciting. But, oddly, every inch the wall falls, I feel more... Fearful. As though I'd forgotten something. Something... dangerous.

"Uthgerd." Talao says. "You don't suppose... Might there be a Dragon Priest interred here?"

Now that was a frightening thought.. "The mural."

"Aye. It suddenly occurred to me how simple getting here was. The traps were definitely to deter intruders, but this wall... It seems built more to keep something in rather than out.

"And maybe the 'ancient power' buried here is not some artifact, but a being of power instead."

CLUNK

We both jump, as the wall hits the floor. Beyond is a cavernous chamber, muted moonlight flowing in from holes in the ceiling, illuminating a large, stony structure in the back. The awe-inspiring sight is spoiled by the sudden tension in the air. After a moment's hesitation, I draw my blade, and Talao holds his staff in front of him. We move slowly into the cavern. An underground brook gurgles by. A colony of bats screeches by after we startle them. The structure, a semi-circular wall, stands upon a worn podium. Along with an ornate treasure chest. A table.

And a coffin.

My heart jumps. Something is here. I can feel it. Nothing happens as we mount the stairs. The coffin remains still. Don't plan to let it out of my sight, though.

"Did you hear that? Talao says.

The wind. The stream. A falling rock. "...hear what?"

"I can hear... It's like it's both within and without me at once. Bum... Bum bum. Like drums."

Bum... Bum bum

Faintly, I hear it. Or... Feel it. Everywhere at once like Talao said. I could feel it in my bones, in my lungs.

Bum... Bum bum

Where is it coming from? Every step I take, it builds, louder and louder.

Bum... Bum bum

"The wall," I say. "Look at it." The moonlight falls directly on it, standing like a monolith. But it seems to glow brighter than it should. Magic?

Bum... Bum bum

"These markings..."

They don't look like the ones on the claw," I say. We move closer to the wall, the drums pounding through my body. "Just... Scratches."

BUM... BUM BUM

"No. This isn't a human language at all. Or mer, or beast. It's much older." He looks at me, eyes wide with wonder.

BUM... BUM BUM

"It's dragon."

...

"The drums have stopped." Talao ignores me, set on the wall in front of him, even more than with the journal. We're close enough to touch it, but it feels... Irreverent to do so, somehow. "Dragon, you said?"

"Aye," he responds. His eyes move back and forth in short bursts. "The oldest language recorded. Except for perhaps the Elder Scrolls themselves."

"Can you read it, then?"

"Words here and there. I've never actually seen the language written properly, only glossaries or dictionaries. Dragons never wrote on parchment, after all."

"Why?"

"Why?! He scoffs incredulously. "Do those markings look to be written in ink? No. They were carved into the stone by claw. This... This is a living testament to the existence of dragons. One stood, once, right where we stand now. And it left this. For us."

By Ysmir. I can hardly wrap my mind around the idea. "So... What does it say? Is this the 'Dragonstone'?"

"It'd be rather difficult to return to Farengar if 'twere. But no. I don't see any... Directions or anything related to burials. Except maybe this line. 'Het nok faal vahlok.' Here lies the... Something, but it's not 'dragon.' 'Deinmaar' is keeper, or holder. 'Dovahgolz,' dragon... something. Maybe stone? Yes, it must be 'Dragonstone.' 'Unslaad' I know means 'unending' or 'innumerable.' Rahgol ahrk vulom'... Anger and black? Dark?"

"Well, that's not foreboding at all." Sounds like our treasure is here. But where? And what is "keeping" it? Oh please, please, please don't be a Dragon Priest.

"Hang on, there's another word here... It's like my eyes slipped over it before. Hmm. FUS."

It happens quickly. The gentle breeze becomes a whirlwind, screaming through the cave, blowing me off balance. I see Talao, standing tall within the wind, as though it were focused around him. And then I see the wind, full of energy and colours somehow, stream into his nose and mouth, as he breathes in so much, I fear he may burst from the volume of it all.

And then it ends. The air falls silent once more, and Talao falls to his hands and knees with a mighty gasp. But only air.

"What in the..."

He breathes in.

A loud crash echoes behind me, and I turn to see the lid of the coffin fall aside. A hand reaches out, pulling with it a large Draugr, blue eyes glowing beneath an ornate helm. Well, at least it's not a Dragon Priest, thank Kyne. Small victories.

I can hear Talao breathing raggedly behind me as I size up the enemy. The good thing about Draugr, to me and anyone else, is that they're slow. All I have to do is dodge its swings, and strike while it recovers. They might fight on without legs, but so long as...

"FUS!"

I stumble backwards, barely avoiding catching myself on the wall. Did that thing just... shout at me? And force me back? It staggers toward me much quicker than I anticipated, but its attack is so widely telegraphed, I avoid it with ease. A shower of sparks flies from where his blade meets stone, and I regain my bearing, carving into its left arm. The wound does nothing. It doesn't bleed, or feel pain. Nothing short of cutting body parts off will do anything to stop it.

So, that's what I do. I close distance, keeping it from using its strange magic upon me again, and keep hacking away. Its left arm is first to go, dropping to the floor. Then I sever its legs. I few more swipes and I disarm it as well, then behead it with one fell swoop. The blue glow flickers and dies. Anti-climactic, maybe. But I think I've had enough thrills for the day.

I turn back to Talao. He sits, back against the wall, staff lying by his side. Staring into the distance, and quieter than I'd ever seen him. His breath has gone back to normal. "Talao? Are you alright?"

He looks at me, and I nearly flinch away. I feel... Utterly intimidated. There is a power behind his gaze that wasn't before. "I am. Alright, that is. At least, I think so."

"What happened? I mean... What... happened to you?"

"I'm not sure. I read that last word and then... It was like I was being filled with... I don't know. Like potential... Fus." He stared back into the darkness, his eyes unfocused. I wonder if he's in shock.

"Fus... The Draugr yelled that at me as well. Wonder what it means."

"Force. It means force."

I looks at him oddly. "How do you know?"

"I don't know. I just... Know. Or maybe I always knew, and I remembered it just now."

"Well, is that all you 'remember?'"

He rubs his face, then covers all but his mouth and recites:

Here lies the guardian, Keeper of the Dragonstone. A FORCE of unending Rage and darkness.

"The writing on the wall?" I ask.

"Yes. It's like it's imprinted in my brain. The knowledge. Maybe FUS was like a key that unlocked it."

I stand, running my hand along the word that Talao had touched. It wasn't only because I was feeling uncomfortable keeping eye contact. Fus... It resonates in my toes, sends a shiver down my spine. "Why didn't it happen to me as well, then?" Not that I was terrible interested or jealous in the same thing happening to me.

"Who know? Maybe only the first person who touches it is granted the knowledge. Someone who already knows some of it. Or some other criteria unbeknownst to us. This is beyond my stories."

A moment of silence. Talao stands up and moves to the now empty coffin stepping over the re-deceased corpse "I'll wager our treasure was interred with our dead friend here. A-ha. A bit bigger than I'd imagined." With a heave, he lifts a large five-sided stone tablet from within the coffin, and places it on what I suppose is (or was) an embalming table. "Yes, it's an actual physical map of Skyrim," he says as I lean in beside him. "Not to scale, clearly, but you can see the relation between the burial sites and nearby landmarks. Probably not exact in order to keep it somewhat secret, were it to fall into the wrong hands. Such as ours, most likely."

"Fascinating, I'm sure." It wasn't much to look at. But valuable enough to Farengar; he can have it. I open the chest I'd noticed earlier - I'd killed the guardian of the ruins, so by right of trial by combat, its treasures were now mine - but it was disappointingly sparse of any valuables. A handful of old Nordic gold and silver coins. Not Septims, but they might fetch a decent price from the right person. An old axe, corroded beyond repair, and at the bottom, a horned helm, similar to the one worm by the Draugr. A trophy fit for my victory, if nothing else. Talao had better have been truthful about the Jarl's reward.

"We'd best be going, Uthgerd." Talao scans the back wall. "These ruins usually have a secret exit that leads to the entrance or out the back. With luck, we can make it back to Whiterun, and our reward, within two sundowns."

Well. That sort of zeal is new. But welcome, compared to his usual sober pace. I shoulder my pack, heavier one Dragonstone, and catch him up near the back wall. All in all, our trek seems to have been a resounding success, and I'll be glad to return to Whiterun to tell everyone of the tale.

But...

I glance at Talao again, his eyes shining with confidence. Things have changed by our being here. I wonder if it will be for good or ill. I suppose only time will tell in the long run.

Even considering the accepted idea that the Dragon Claw keys were only meant to keep the Draugr IN their tombs, I always found the puzzles overly simplistic; I sincerely doubt the Dragon Cult or their imprisoners wanted the Lords/Priests released by any Joe Schmoe. So I made them slightly more interesting, at least in my mind. Putting the solution within the negative space created by the runes gives the Claws a bit more substance as a ritualistic or decorative piece, and makes it actually quite easy to overlook. I will hold off on any commentary regarding the Word Wall for now, but hope you enjoyed the scene; it was one I was very much looking forward to and, as Uthgerd unconsciously notices, marks a significant turning point in Talao's development. Suffice to say, "game mechanics" will be very much different in my fic.

Chapter 12 - Arvel I: Bleak Falls Barrow x Chapter 14 - Farengar II: Dragon Rising

[dhr-ao3]

Cause and Effect

Cause and Effect https://ift.tt/MTRI1O8 by SallowsKeeper Stella lived in the shadow of her parent's legacy, but she was okay with that. There was no way she could live a more impressive life than Draco and Hermione Malfoy. She accepted it. What she couldn't accept was her mother dying. Minister Hermione Malfoy had been cursed with Dark Magic that was slowly sucking the life out of her. But Mum didn't have any fight left in her after three years. At least that's what she thought. Stella stumbles upon some hidden archives her mother dug up that talked about an ancient relic that was known for curing Dark Magic. All she had to do was travel to 1898 and locate the last wizard who wrote about it in his journal. Easy? Sounds like it. What she didn't expect was to get involved with a neurodivergent sociopath who plans to use Stella for bait in order to capture the infamous Muggle killer: Jack the Ripper.... But it's either bend to his will or never have the artifact that could cure her mother. Follow Stella as she learns how to catch a killer, navigates the past, and tries not to notice how attractive her new boss is. Love and crime don't mix... Right? Words: 59944, Chapters: 30/84, Language: English Fandoms: Hogwarts Legacy (Video Game), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: F/M Characters: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Scorpius Malfoy, Sebastian Sallow, Ominis Gaunt, Anne Sallow, Solomon Sallow, Original House-Elf Character(s), Original Malfoy Characters (Harry Potter), Lucan Brattleby, Duncan Hobhouse, Garreth Weasley, Ruth Singer Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Ominis Gaunt/Original Female Character(s) Additional Tags: Ominis Gaunt Needs a Hug, Dark Ominis Gaunt, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Set Post-Hogwarts Legacy (Video Game), Canon Divergence - Hogwarts Legacy (Video Game), Sebastian Sallow in Azkaban, Auror Ominis Gaunt, Shameless Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Time Travelling Harry Potter, Oral Sex, Mildly Dubious Consent, Rough Sex, Praise Kink, Parselmouths & Parseltongue (Harry Potter), Jack the Ripper Murders, True Love, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Minister for Magic Hermione Granger, Sassy Ominis Gaunt via AO3 works tagged 'Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy' https://ift.tt/W9mKNgv June 28, 2024 at 09:29PM

[thetavolution]

Paloma \ Seldarine Drow \ Monk \ She/Her \ 39

Paloma is inspired by a character that will appear in my show @weregoingtokillthequeen (which will be revamped in the near future). Originally, she was a wood elf, but I thought she'd be more interesting as a drow.

Full name: Paloma Silkflower Name meaning:  Paloma: dove; Silkflower: it's pretty self-explanatory Pronouns: She/Her  Race: Seldarine Drow Age: 39 Orientation: Pansexual Romance: I have no idea if she'll go the Astarion or Halsin route or both (Or perhaps other?) Class: Monk Subclass: Way of the Open Hand Origin: Urchin  Theme song:  Reach - Madds Buckley / Surface Pressure - Jessica Darrow

Personality Paloma is the quintessential older sister. She’s protective, responsible, determined, and bossy. She’s also short-tempered, high-strung, and sarcastic.

She grew up in an orphanage as one of the older kids. She stepped up to take care of the younger children and she took responsibility for them at a young age. Even after they reached adulthood, she continued to clean up after them and care for them like she always did. She has a habit of stepping in and doing things for other people.

Paloma believes she has to "earn" the right to be in people's lives, which means taking care of them. She has a very dry sense of humor that can sometimes go over people's heads.

History Paloma was raised in the Holy House of Nym orphanage. She never met her father and she doesn’t have a lot of memories of her mother anymore. Her father’s whereabouts are unknown since he left long before she was born. 

When she was two years old, her mother, Veera, died from the plague. Paloma arrived at the orphanage around the same time as Lamia and immediately took on the role of an older sister. She’s one of the few people who knows Lamia is a Changeling and doesn’t care. Even as a child, she wasn’t concerned about it. 

She aged out of the orphanage, but rather than turn to crime (like Lamia) or a trade, she traveled to a Selûnite monastery to train in martial arts. While at the monastery, she met Belgos, a drow ranger, who was traveling Faerûn. He declared his love for her and made promises to be with her forever. 

They would have three children together, Orianna, Lucan, and Meriele. Paloma was head over heels in love, but after Meriele’s birth, Belgos grew tired of “playing house.” He returned to the Underdark without so much as a goodbye, leaving Paloma alone with the children.

Years later, she would migrate to Baldur’s Gate due to her monastery being destroyed in a drow raid. Paloma never found out if Belgos had anything to do with the raid, or if it was just coincidence. 

Likes: Being with her children, nature, meditating, martial arts, keeping warm, organization, warm rainy days, soup, tea, nature walks, adventuring, dry humor, afternoon naps, and reading

Dislikes: The cold, feeling useless, disorganization, Lolth-Sworn Drow, small talk, bibberbang, and the sound of loud chewing

Fears: She's terrified of being useless and unneeded. She assumes she'll eventually let everyone down or not be able to protect the people she loves. She believes she'll never be able to live up to other people's expectations. As far as she's concerned, she'll never be good at anything.

Of course, as a mother, she’s scared of anything happening to her children. She’s also terrified that she’s a terrible mother. She does her best, but it’s hard to be a single mother in Faerûn. She does her best not to let her kids know how she’s feeling about things though. She just wants them to have the best life possible

Quirks: She talks to herself sometimes. She gets cold easily and her body temperature doesn't regulate itself very well. When it's even a bit chilly, she prefers to wrap herself up in a bundle of blankets or stay indoors. She’s also used to going into mom mode to take care of people, including small things like cleaning smudges off their 

Mental Health: She has an older sister and mom mentality and it leads her to put a lot of pressure on herself. She constantly feels as though she's not enough or could be doing something more. What is that something? No one knows. She certainly doesn't. She spreads herself thin and berates herself when it wears her out. She was took damage when her ex just up and left her with the kids. It’s left her feeling like a complete, unloveable failure.

Favorite Foods: Cinnamon Roll, Eel, and Vegetable Soup

Favorite Drinks: Tea with honey, lemon, and ginger and Suzailian Sweet

Favorite Flower: Snapdragons, Violets, and Ylang Ylang

Height:  5’6"

Skin: Light Blue

Hair:  Bluish-Black

Eyes:  Purple 2 (Right) and White 1 (Left)

Color Scheme:  She doesn't stick to one color scheme in particular. She'll wear a lot of black and dark blues, but she'll also wear golds, reds, yellows, and purples.

Fashion Sense: She doesn't always wear armor. She keeps to lightweight clothing so she can move freely. She generally dresses very practically, but that doesn't mean she doesn't want to look good. She remains well groomed and she can dress up when the occasion calls for it.

Family: 

Lamia Ambler — Lamia is like a sister to her. More on that to come... eventually.

Orianna Silkflower — 12. She’s Paloma’s 12-year-old daughter.

Lucan Silkflower — 10. He’s Paloma’s 10-year-old son.

Meriele Silkflower — 10. She’s Paloma’s 10-year-old daughter. She's Lucan's twin.

[inabsentiiarch]

Friendly reminder that this travels in Luci's pocket. Her name is Beatrice, and if you hurt Lucan or make him cry you might get a crab pinching your butt and squaring up. She can read the elf's emotions so she also knows if he has a crush on you or hates you. She loves the gossip, has to be told not to jump in the battlefield bc she has 1 HP probably.

[elvenlia]

A little Legolas fluff I wrote for a friend ♡

Legolas x Oc

🍃

It was a mid- autumn evening, the forest was still and the air cool. All seemed peaceful within middle earth in this moment. The only thing that could be heard around them was the chirping of birds and the squirrels chattering to one another from opposite trees.

Legolas and Lucan had been taking a leisurely stroll, soft crunching of the fall leaves beneath their feet. Tonight would be Lucan's last night visiting in Mirkwood before he had to make his long journey home. Meaning Legolas wanted to spend the remaining time with him alone, he wasn't sure when their paths would cross again.

"Where are we going? Aren't you going to tell me?" Lucan laughed, walking along a fallen log, arms stretched wide to balance himself.

"You'll see, have patience." Legolas hummed, walking along side the log, hands folded behind his back.

"How much further then?" Lucan hummed, coming to the end of the log, hands on his hips. "Look, I'm as tall as you from here!"

Legolas chuckled as he stopped before Lucan and nodded, now able to gaze directly into his murky green eyes. "Indeed you are, Lucan. Come, not much farther." His head nodded in the direction they needed to go and ventured off once again.

As they continued to walk, Legolas couldn't help the way his gaze would often drift to Lucan. He'd watch the way the sun would hit his skin, caressing his features and making the brown flecks in his eyes a bit more bright. And how everytime Lucan came apon a wildflower his eyes held so much appreciation for it, for all of the nature around him. He greatly admired that about him, that wasn't a quality he often seen amongst the humans.

Though Lucan was different.

He'd somehow wiggled his way into the reserved Elf's heart, leaving not much room for anything else. Legolas had grown soft for the man beside him.

Finally they came to a clearing just outside of the forest, it was a beautiful sight. A large oak tree stood to the side of a small pond casting just a bit of shade, all surrounded by white and yellow wildflowers that covered the ground. And the ponds water was clear enough to see the fish that swam along the bottom.

Legolas lead the way, settling himself on the ground beneath the tree and he gestured for Lucan to have a seat beside him.

"How did you find this place? It's beautiful!" Lucan's eyes were wide in awe as he took in the view around them.

"Do you like it?" Legolas asked, watching the bright smile that pulled at the humans lips.

"Yes, of course I do!" He laughed happily, plucking a yellow flower from the ground and tucking it into Legolas' hair where he had it pulled back.

Legolas chuckled, he always enjoyed Lucan's light hearted and bright personality, it was a breath of fresh air for him.

The two sat and spoke of many things, the trees, the birds, the turning and falling leaves and how Lucan would miss Mirkwood once he returned home.

As the sky now dimmed and the stars began peaking through their blankets, Legolas laid himself back onto the ground. Reaching up, his fingers gently tugged at Lucan's sleeve and pulled him to lay down along side of him. Their eyes gazes up at the twinkling sky for a long moment, settling in a comfortable silence.

Legolas then took Lucan's hand into his, intertwining their fingers and holding it to his chest. He was sure that Lucan could now feel his heartbeat from where his hand sat. Legolas turned his head to the side, his expression soft as he gazed at Lucan.

"I'll speak to you through the stars." Legolas muttered, his voice quiet. "We may not be at each others side every night but we'll be gazing at the same night sky, the same stars. I'll speak to them, you'll listen, won't you?"

Lucan slow nodded his head, gazing at Legolas with a twinkle in his eye. "You know I will, I'll listen to every word they have for me from you."

"You'll return to me again, won't you?" Legolas spoke again, his head now turning back to face the stars. His thumb idly rubbing the back of Lucan's hand before he brought it to his lips and kissed his knuckles.

"Always." Lucan's voice was soft and hardly above a whisper as his focus never turned away from Legolas.

The last thought either wanting to think of was Lucan's departure in this moment, so the rest of their night was spent under the stars, comfortable in the silence of the night as they found solace within one another's company.

[oathtorn]

Wed, bed, behead — Lucan, Brail, and Valas

"Behead the half-elf. That would shut his mouth for good." There is no hesitation. Whatever animosity she has towards the drow is far outweighed by the insufferable headache that is the mage.

"Wed the high elf. He needs only to decorate the room for a while, I would expect him to die from poison quite early."

"Bed the insolent boy. I highly doubt he has it in him to please me — or any woman for that matter —, but at the very least I would enjoy greatly tying him up, and test how much pain he is capable of enduring."

[hunter-the-sad-skeleton]

Goretober days I've gotten done so far, SUPER proud of the Candy Gore one!(Reblogs appreciated!)

[ohohohelloooo]

forgive and forget | part II

summary: a war veteran remembers his fallen lover, to a fate he is too guilty to admit

   

Rolen winced, bending over in pain. It was a rather scorching day, the sun beating overhead with its blinding rays. A sticky haze pervaded the air. Everything seemed to wilt from the immense heat. The hot spell even seemed to have messed with Rolen’s head. He stood in a clearing, with a target on the far side, and arrows noticeably everywhere but the target. For about half an hour, Rolen had been practicing his aim, failing to hit the target whatsoever. Frustration really started to take hold of him, worsening his aim further. How was he supposed to represent the wood elves, if he couldn’t even hit a target correctly? Rolen swore his aim was much better yesterday. Through gritted teeth, he cursed at the unbearable heat of the Sun Elf lands. At least, he still had his trusty dagger.

    Gripping his arm, he assessed the damage. A burning sensation prickled the skin on his forearm. The skin where the string struck him was tender and started swelling red. It was a bad burn. He groaned as laughter erupted from behind him. 

    “Half a century,” the figure behind him continued cackling. “And you still don’t know how to use a bow.”

    “I know how to use a bow, thank you very much!” Rolen retorted, softly gripping the afflicted spot on his arm. “It just… needs some work.” 

    “See, I told you to use the arm guard. Oh, the struggles of being a daft century something. I simply can’t relate.”

    Rolen rolled his eyes. “Varan, we’re the same age.”

    “I said daft century something,” Varan sauntered over to where Rolen was kneeling over. “Not just any normal century something.”

    “Well you’re one to talk! Which one of us has an ugly scar covering half his face then, eh?”

    “Yet you still hold the bow too tight,” he grinned. “Like a daft century something. And I still look better than you, what with your resting orc face.” Varan contorted his face into a terrible impression of Rolen, scowling dramatically, with eyes narrowed, and lips pouted.

    “Alright, that’s enough out of you.” Rolen fought a chuckle at his ridiculous face. Varan could be utterly absurd at times. “Lucan will be expecting us back soon.”

     “Not with that, we’re not.” 

    To Rolen’s surprise, Varan gently took his hand, facing the burn towards him. Muttering a few words of enchantment, the injury seemed to disappear under his hand. Where the skin was once red and swollen, it was now smooth, like nothing had ever happened. 

    Rolen peered wide-eyed at Varan’s little trick. Magic was something Rolen could never really wrap his head around. It was a piece of nonsense in his orderly world, making things appear and disappear when they shouldn’t, somehow causing destruction and chaos and at the same time, providing life and healing. Making the impossible happen. Yet moments like these made him really appreciate magic, at least a little bit. 

    “Neat, eh? I’ve been practicing it over the last couple of months,” Varan teased at Rolen’s smiling face. 

    “Yeah yeah, how do I know my arm won’t turn into a mushroom like last time?” Varan was a Druid’s apprentice, running errands, doing internships, and learning the art of magic along the way. He was a good Druid, Rolen could admit that. But he still teased Varan of the accident a couple years ago, when he got overconfident in his abilities. 

    Varan scoffed at that remark. “Honestly Rolen, what do you take me for, a novice?”

    Rolen could only laugh. “Maybe-”

His chortle was cut short as Varan raised the back of Rolen’s hand, gently pressing his lips against it. Varan grinned at Rolen’s flushed expression. 

“Aww, have I succeeded in making Rolen speechless? Impossible!” Varan chuckled, pulling Rolen closer, turning his face towards him while Rolen attempted to avert his gaze. Rolen tried to recalibrate, gain back control of the situation. But Varan’s stupid bright green eyes and soft smile had entranced him. 

“Now that’s not fair.” Rolen whispered quietly, leaning in to peck his lips on Varan’s forehead. Even at the smallest touch, Rolen became flustered, and annoyingly enough, Varan took advantage of it every chance he got. However hot he felt before, it wasn’t comparable to this. 

It was difficult to admit. Varan made him weak. 

But Rolen wasn’t unhappy about it. 

    Resting his head on Varan’s shoulder, he soaked in the rays from the sun. It had been a long time since they were allowed to rest. For three weeks, their squadron had been marching to the very edge of the nation non stop to aid the Sun Elves. Of course, Rolen took pride in doing his duty to help his fellow elf kin. Ecstatic almost, contrary to many of the other people in his village. Then again, they were to work alongside despicable half elves and disgusting orcs, but oh well. What was an elf to do?

    This isn’t our war. We shouldn't waste our strength on them. What a shame, choosing to exhaust our youth. Rolen had heard their backhanded whispers, concerns and selfishness. He simply came to fulfill a duty, alongside him and his compatriots. The sun elves decidedly needed their help. And if Rolen was the only one willing to have a hand to help, so be it. Thank Za that the clans decided to send more forces as well.

     He wondered what Varan thought of the journey. After all, despite his jeers at Rolen, Varan was a very peaceful elf.

    Rolen opened his mouth to speak, but out of the blue, Varan shot up. Rolen looked at what he was staring at. Squinting at the sky, his eyes widened. Flying bits of blackened flecks floated gently towards the ground. One landed in the palm of Rolen’s hand. Rubbing it between his fingers, a black smudge appeared.

    Soot. The air was tinged with a burning scent. Dark clouds of smoke started to curl up in the sky, casting a dark shadow all around. Rolen and Varan looked at each other in fear. Something was wrong. 

    “Rolen! Varan!” A figure called towards them in the distance. 

    Rolen stood up. “Delvor. What’s happening?”

    Delvor raced to them, panting heavily. “We’re needed. The Village of Honeybrook just sent for help.”

...

    ��The wind howled against Rolen’s ear, as they raced on horseback towards the village. His heart pounded. Smoke unfurled in the now red sky, almost taunting them with the promise of death lying ahead. 

    “I see it!” Delvor rode next to Rolen. He galloped faster towards the speck of black at the end of the path. Rolen followed suit, urging his steed to ride faster. Those people needed help as soon as possible. 

    He was afraid of what he might find once they arrived. Stories of the ruthless Dragonborn rushed through his head, whispers of the rain of ash wherever they walked, tales of the flames that followed, and the savagery that surrounded them.  Rolen shook his head, jostled by the pounding of the horse’s hooves against the ground. Honeybrook was but a rural village, with nothing but civilians. It was not a military stronghold, but a mere peaceful settlement. If the Dragonborn were truly as honorable as they claimed, at most they would have left them alone, save an act of intimidation or two. After all, the real threat they had to worry about for now was the force sent to aid the village. 

    And if they weren’t honorable? Why, Rolen couldn’t bear the thought. 

    Ahead, Delvor finally pushed to a stop. But the smoke reached Rolen’s lungs first. Coughing, Rolen leaped off the horse to see what Delvor stopped for. He sat still upon his horse, quietly taking in the scene in front of him, a somber expression etched on his face. Rolen followed his gaze, and couldn’t help but freeze as well. For in front of them stood the village, or what he assumed, once was. The whole settlement was completely destroyed, crushed, and burnt to a crisp. Only the bare skeleton of the structures remained, blackened and crumbling. Red embers glowed from the scorched land. And not a villager in sight. They were too late. 

    Rolen kept walking towards the village, ignoring Delvor’s pleas to wait for the rest of the force to arrive. A cold shiver pricked up his spine at the sight of the village. It wasn’t exactly what he expected when he signed up for this. 

    Gawking around at the destruction, he noticed something in the corner of his eye. A small rattle sat quietly on the ground next to another scorched home, the handle broken off and smashed into pieces, with the clay charred. It belonged to a child. Or once did. Now, Rolen wasn’t too sure. 

    Bending down to pick it up, he examined it further. The once bright red was now faded, with scorch marks covering the surface. Intricate designs on the small toy were reminiscent of Rolen’s own. Small and faded paintings of flowers and vines, dotted with spots of gold decorated it. Someone must have loved this child enough to make the art so intricate. Or loved them enough to buy them such a nice handcrafted gift. 

     And for what?

     Sighing, Rolen tossed it back onto the ground. Behind him, the rest of the group arrived, taking in the scene, with the wailing wind, and the crackle of the ongoing fires elsewhere. 

    His commanding officer called out from his horse, “Spread out! Search for survivors!” 

    Going further and further into the destroyed village, Rolen got more and more distraught. Corpses littered the area, the stench of death wafting through the air alongside the smoke. In front of Rolen laid one of the deceased. His features were completely melted and burnt off, leaving only a blank stare, gazing at Rolen. Blood splattered the walls and ground nearby, soaking his clothing, with arms and legs nowhere to be found. Rolen gulped at the sight of him, feeling dizzy. His vision blurred at the sight. Grimacing, Rolen stepped lightly over the body, praying to Za.

     Nearby was another home, the walls and roof completely destroyed, falling into a pile of rubbish on the wood floor. Suddenly, part of the pile began to shift. Rolen stepped back in surprise, and ran over. 

    Stepping closer to the spot, Rolen peered at the jostling stack. 

    “Are-, are they gone?” A voice whispered from within. 

    “Yes,” Rolen exhaled. It wasn’t an enemy. “You’re safe now.”

    Hearing sighs of relief from within the little hideout, Rolen called out, “Help! We’ve got survivors!” 

    A couple others ran over to aid Rolen. Lifting up the debris, he spotted a small hole in the ground where they hid. Three sun elves were inside, one adult and two young children, covered in a thick layer of soot and dust. Coughing from the dust cloud that arose from disturbing the pile, Rolen held out his hand to them. 

    “Are you alright?” 

    “I’m quite fine,” the woman said, standing up, before wincing and crumpling to the ground. There were audible gasps at her injury. A bloody cloth fell from her hands, revealing a large chunk of flesh missing from her leg, as if it was scooped out, the rest of it blistering and burnt. Because the cloth holding the blood in had fallen, blood started spilling onto the ground. The children started to get concerned, attempting to give the cloth back to the woman. 

     Eyes widening, Delvor grabbed Rolen. “She needs a healer.”

     Nodding, Rolen ran off to find one. His stomach twisted in knots at the thought of  running about in a place that stunk of death. Of destruction and chaos to the extreme. How anyone could stomach the capacity to do such things was beyond Rolen.

    By the end of the hour, they found the rest of the survivors, some that hid in the nearby woods, others that had also stowed in small hidden holes.

    Rolen collected water, passing it out alongside others and to the villagers.

    “What happened?” Lucan questioned them softly. 

    The woman from before coughed wildly, looking up at Lucan. “They took everything.” Her voice wobbled, tired and sucked of life. “They destroyed anyone, and anything in their path. Neither gold nor silver could tempt them to stop. Yet all we had to offer were crops from this year’s harvest.”

    The rest of the villagers sat in silence, trying to find comfort in each other’s company, giving grim looks at the soldiers.

     “We’re just peasants. We don’t know what they wanted.”

     “Don’t worry. This war will be over soon enough. The Sun Elves have finally gathered enough forces to crush the Fire Empire.” Lucan’s gaze hardened. “They will listen to reason once they see our strength.”

     “You don’t understand!” The woman set down her cup abruptly. “They’re Dragonborn. They won’t listen to reason. They’ll stop at nothing to achieve their means. How many more do you think will die before we put this war to an end?” 

     She glared at Lucan, lip trembling. “How many!” 

     Another villager patted her softly on the back. “My husband-,” her voice cracked. “I don’t know if they’ve taken him away to a prison camp, or, or-”

     Rolen walked away as the woman fell silent. His stomach twisted at the sight of the burning wreckage, and the dead corpses, alongside the woman’s injuries and the broken rattle. Most of those villagers would be disfigured for life. He never wanted this. Rolen tightened his fist. He couldn’t fathom what kind of monsters would do this. To attack civilians, of all things. How could the Dragonborn manage to do such things without a second thought, really was beyond him. It would only take real monsters, savages, to do what they’ve done without a second thought. 

    He glanced at Varan a little while away, helping alongside the other healers, distributing makeshift bandages and supplies. Varan spotted Rolen, giving a little wave, with a small smile that disappeared as fast as it formed. 

    “Varan!” A voice called.

    “Coming!” Varan rushed away towards them, leaving Rolen standing alone, in the midst of chaos, the woman’s words circling in his mind. The Dragonborn are of a cruel culture, the scum of the earth. Worse than half elves, worse than orcs, humans, the whole lot of them. How many more would die at their hands, before the Confederacy would manage to stop them? Would there be light at the end of this war? 

    Rolen simply didn’t know, only faced with only the promise of battle brewing, of conflict with sword and flame. Patting his trusty dagger, he stalked away to see if he could help with anything else, an empty bucket still dripping with water in his hand. At this point, he couldn’t think about that. Right now, all that mattered was that Rolen do his part, his duty to the village, and the elf confederacy. First and foremost, he was a soldier, willing to do whatever it took to rid the world of the atrocious plague that was the Dragonborn.

…

     “Ugh, it’s like we’re in a completely different city! Where are we going?”

     Shortsighted Eryn and her laughable “values”.What right does she have to deny the truth that stands right in front of her, Rolen seethed, fists balling. She might as well be half breed scum, the despicable being she is. The mere thought of Eryn’s existence, alongside her beloved dragonborn, was enough to make Rolen’s stomach twist into knots. Grumbling, he leaped over a grime covered piece of fallen wall. 

    Of course, it was his own fault for expecting so much of her. Why, Rolen was surprised at himself for a split second, daring to hope Eryn had grown out of that idiotic phase, but to no avail. 

    Rolen cursed under his breath as he tripped over a pile of debris. He didn’t have time for such distractions. He gritted his teeth. His skin was crawling from the mere thought of this cursed place, much less being right in the middle of it. Everywhere, random pieces of debris and abandoned items were strewn about. Trash, discarded weapons, tents, ragged clothes, and Rolen didn’t even want to know what those dark foul smelling piles were made of. 

    They were close. Too close for Rolen’s comfort, although he wouldn’t exactly call this little venture that. Rolen wanted to run away, heart pounding faster and faster as they went. Every foot, every inch closer, memories flooded his brain. He could barely look around, keeping his head bowed. Sunken eyes stared at the pair from the shadows, whispers and murmurs filling the air. A place once so lively, filled to the brim with vivid colors. Rolen could almost recall it, somewhere much different from how it was now. Now, it stood hollow and empty, a scar of the war that raged the continent. Something found within all the lands ravaged by war. A scar no one bothered to heal.

    “What happened here?” Rolen could hear Eryn’s silent gasp, jolting him out of old memories.

    “This,” Rolen turned to Eryn, “is your beloved Dragonborns doing. Almost enough to justify a war, no?”

    In front of them stood a section of the prodigious wall that surrounded Urgshire. And in the middle of it, a wide gaping hole was poised, almost out of place. Adorning the bare edges of the void was a jet black substance that seemed to suck the life out of the area. Centuries old poison that continued to flow, dripping onto the cobblestone ground. The vines that grew over the hole, sinking their roots into the seemingly endless ink black seemed close to disintegrating. All around, Rolen could spot tricksters, thieves, scavengers who have gone desperate, unable to leave the dreaded lower ring. Bodies laid around, waiting to die, pale and thin, fragile enough that they could wither away from a light breeze. Their eyes, as sunken and hollow as the hole they called home. 

    “Rolen.” Eryn’s voice sounded stricken.

     Rolen followed her gaze to an almost endless line of elves, some barely old enough to drink mead. At the very front there was  a wooden stump, stained with blood.

     “Come! Drink your poison right here! Feeling down?” A vendor shouted from a supposed execution block, wiping off the scarlet stains on a rusty battle axe. “Why not end it all right here, in the most glorious place in the city! Half off for a clean chop!”

     “What’s going on?” Eryn gulped, looking to Rolen for answers.

     “Grief lines. For those that…” Rolen looked away, “can’t handle this life.”

     Eryn stared straight ahead as they heard the sickening swing of the axe, and the crunch that followed, flinching in unison.

      “No, no.” Eryn shook her head, speaking in a hoarse voice. “What one nation can be the cause of such a vile place? Why bring me here?”

      “Denial. I wouldn’t blame you for thinking so,” Rolen grumbled. “But this encapsulates what the war was like. It was no war. It was a massacre.”

     “But the stories! Books that tell of glory and, and how we crushed them like bugs! Not-,” Eryn gestured all around her, “this!”

     Rolen narrowed his eyes. “The stories tell nothing of how shattered the elf lands were offset by the surprise attacks. The sun elves are afraid to be shown as anything but weak and off guard. It was always a close call.”

     “Surprise?”

     “Massacres. Village after village, I have watched too many burned to the ground, and cursed, just like this place.”

     “There is no way those attacks went unprovoked-,”

     “But they did.” 

     “That doesn’t make sense!”

     Rolen pinched the bridge of his nose. “They did, because they are monsters! They aren’t supposed to think straight. Logic doesn’t work with monsters,” he spat. “Those friends of yours steal, corrupt, and destroy without notice. Why look at this lousy group you surrounded yourself with.” Rolen threw his hands into the air. “Using tainted magic to get their way! Why can’t you see the Dragonborn for what they are! Look around you!”

     Eryn stayed silent, pursing her lips. Rolen exhaled. “You can’t justify this behavior, no matter how you look at it. Everyone who does is a threat to our safety. Humans, dwarves, orcs, and the like, everyone but elves seem to agree that we somehow deserved this.”

     Rolen placed a hand on her shoulder, hoping she would finally come to terms with him. “From day one, all I have taught you is that we must look after one another. It does no good to mingle with others unlike us. We best look out for our own kind.” 

     “No.” Eryn brushed off Rolen’s hand. “I refuse to believe the world has it out for us. We can’t just assume that everyone is terrible or capable of such destruction.”

     “Have you been-?”

     “Yes, I have, and I still think you’re wrong. Again, we can’t assume such vile ideas.”

     “Vile? It’s the truth, it was war Eryn! We don’t have time to pick and choose, deciding who’s good and who’s not, not with so much at stake!” 

    “Well welcome back to the present Rolen!” Eryn retorted back, smiling darkly. “This is a time of peace, uneasy or not, it is up to us to let it continue. That generation of Dragonborn has long since died out. And this new one has been growing under scrutiny and hate.”

    “Aw, so sad, I’m bad for not forgiving a clan of murderous monsters for committing war crimes?” Rolen glared. Eryn was being unreasonable. The evidence was right there, and still, nothing. He grumbled, crossing his arms. “Peace talks won’t work, all this talk of coming together as one unit will never work. You cannot reason with terrorists. You think we haven’t tried?”

     “And where is this sense of superiority going to get us? Because your brain can’t comprehend it, they are dead,” Eryn snapped at Rolen. “We can’t pin old crimes on innocents with nothing but association to justify it. If they didn’t despise us then, they definitely do now, because of idiots like you. This time it will not be an unprovoked war, and tell me then which ideas helped fuel it.”      

     “That’s still no excuse to wage war.”

     “When the world moves on, you’ll be left behind.” Eryn shook her head, walking away from Rolen, towards the palace. “Alone, bitter and broken from a war too long ago for any to remember, we’ll be made a laughingstock.”

     “It was an elf!” Eryn paused to look at Rolen who was pulsating with rage. “The siege of Urgshire began not because of the Dragonborn, but because of an elf that believed peace could be achieved with them. An elf like you. And he was punished for attempting that amnesty you so covet! Killed and left to starve by those he thought friends. It was his fault for putting our kind at risk, for this!” Rolen pointed at the large crater. “There is nothing more dangerous than trust in the unknown!”

     Eryn scoffed, “You can’t call people the unknown. Adversity only produces more hate, more war, and suffering. You are hurting people. That is where the real danger lies.”  Eryn turned away, marching back to the palace at a quicker pace. Rolen kicked a nearby can in anger, its contents splatting all over the wall. Bystanders gawked at him, curious, some staring at his shiny dagger. 

     “Degenerates.” Rolen scoffed. He looked back to Eryn’s quickly fading figure as she headed towards the palace. How dare she walk away. It felt too familiar, that conversation. A conversation too long ago to remember. It was almost as if..

     No. Rolen should be glad to see her walk away, for that was his final goal wasn’t it? He had finally gotten her to leave him alone. Alone. Now that was a word mentioned too much for Rolen’s liking.

     When this ordeal was all over, Rolen would find more than enough evidence to get Eryn out of the way. To stop her and her dangerous ideals. Even if that meant he could never see his cousin again, he would say good riddance. Rolen scratched his head. It was hard to remember they were cousins. For all his talk about looking after his own, why is he pushed to abandon his own family? How could Eryn hurt him like this, like so many years ago. Rolen walked back to the tavern from before, avoiding the shifting eyes in the pitch black. 

     “Back again? And this late?” The sun elf barmaid looked up at Rolen’s entrance, whilst sweeping the floor. 

     “This is an all day all night tavern is it not?” Rolen said, pulling out a rickety chair from a table.

     “And you would be correct. What can I get you?”

     Rolen looked around at the place. Only a few stragglers remained, the tavern more dim and lifeless than before. 

     “Just a glass of water and some bread will suffice.” Rolen took out his coin bag.

     Waiting for his order to arrive, Rolen thought over that debacle with Eryn. Of course she was wrong, she had to be. Eryn was a danger, plain and simple, and so were the Dragonborn. Rolen massaged his head, a migraine engulfing him. Hurting people. Rolen didn’t care if he hurt the feelings of war criminals that Eryn couldn’t understand. Of course people are going to get hurt. But, Rolen winced. Has he really been hurting his own? The suffering of his people, the very thing he wanted to avoid most.

     Yes. It really has come to the point where he demanded his own cousin’s execution, compromising with banishment. But Eryn was a danger. That stunt she pulled years ago could have gotten them all killed. That stunt he pulled could have gotten them all killed. At the beginning of the night, perhaps Rolen might have still strongly disagreed with her views. But now, Rolen didn’t know what to think anymore, muddled in this mess of an argument. He still considered other beings besides elves to be a danger, especially the Dragonborn. He always would. Most likely, yes. Possibly. 

Rolen’s fingers tapped on the dusty tabletop. 

If only Varan was here. Then again, this is the reason Varan was no longer here, wasn’t it?

[nightflower-stuff]

☀️ Ruthari [Runaan X Ethari] (The Dragon Prince)🌙

Here are my arts for TDP fans & Ruthari Shippers. I'm sure I wanna rewatch The Dragon Prince but I won't forget to watch Supa Strikas & some of my favorite fandoms 😭💘

•{1st slide}:

• Runaan sees Ethari's beautiful dress 👗

- Runaan wears his suit since he wait his husband/boyfriend, Ethari will be ready to wear. Sometimes he brought a flower gift. He got eye on him & saw most beautiful dress. Ethari got embarrassed by Runaan nosebleeding himself 🤧❣️

"I forgot to draw his marks on his hands 😭"

•{2nd slide}:

• Ethari & His parents (Sunfire Elves) ☀️

- Some of TDP fans talking about their theory opinions of Ethari was Sunfire elf because of the marks in the ending credit.👌

- So, what if he has his parents, I made my AU of Ethari as Sunfire elf in his backstory since his parents are working in Lux Aurea ☀️.

- Here's Lucan (he was the royal adviser of Lux Aurea who works with the royal families) & his wife, Chaedi (Royal Guard of Lux Aurea), also their son Ethari as the Formerly Sunfire Craftman of Lux Aurea 🙌. For his future since he saved Lux Aurea by his sacrifice.

•{3rd slide}:

• Runaan 🌙 X Ethari ☀️

- For my opinion, I wish they should be reunion together that Runaan has the mission to killed King Harrow & his son, Ezran. Ethari was worried about his husband. And for season 7, wnhat if Runaan will apologize to King Ezran & Ethari wants to find his love interest & his two daughters Rayla & Loreleia (My OC) 🤭 or maybe these moon & sun family can be reunited with humans. Ethari wanted to see his parents again. 🤧✨

•{Last slide}:

• Ethari (Sunfire elf) meets Runaan (Moonshadow Elf)🌳

- Ethari got message from the Assassin leader of SilverGrove (Which is Runaan) needs more weapons because the previous Moonshadow Craftman got passed away. He needs their help for making new weapons. He was lost in the forest & Runaan sneak at him. During he arrive at SilverGrove. Runaan will confess on Ethari 😏💝

Hope you like them ☺️💗❤️✨

[wowtalesofadventurers]

WoW AU-Gust 2024 Dungeon and Dragons

A World of Warcraft fanfiction for @klayr-de-gall event AU-Gust 204 day 4 D&D featuring my World of Warcraft Classic characters.

Lucan the Paladin and his party of Gramakk the orc warrior, Nockidu the druid, Luise the necromancer, Simonette the cleric, Bilkrin the gnome mage, Krumer the orc warlock, and Alanriana the elf archer arrived at the treasure room of the dungeon, with its closed golden doors before them. Lucan ask his party, "So, how are we going to do this?" and Krumer said, "Check to see if there is any curses on the doors." A godly being roll for checks and Bilkrin cast a spell check, which reveal a curse on the golden doors, and Luise said, "Well, at least we knew that there a trap." and summon a undead warrior to run right at the doors, causing the warrior to burn into ashes by the curse.

Entering the treasure room, the party find a sleeping dragon and the party look at each other to see if they want to fight the dragon or get the heck out of there.

[comment-exchange]

289. make me your lost cause (Khyber Shards)

Title: make me your lost cause Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43943767 Platform: AO3 Creator: YellowMagicalGirl Work Type: Fic Fandom: Khyber Shards Rating: T Pairing: Gen Word count: 1230 Warnings: Fantasy Discrimination, Workplace Discrimination Number of comments: 0 Completion Status: Complete Short summary/description: The last thing Thora remembered was stabbing an invisible Thuranni and then seeing red. Fandom/ship specific tags you want me to add: Thora Tavin, Lucan Stellos, Eberron Snippet:

“All of the ungrateful louts who were alive when you… they’re all fine, thanks to you.” Lucan chewed his lip for a moment. “Thora, what’s the last thing you remember?” “I killed an invisible… They were an elf. Dragonmarked.” Had she seen a mark? She must have. “Thuranni, I think? After that I think one of them set my face on fire. It felt like that; I’ve been burned before. I saw red, and then nothing.” Thora smiled half a smile despite her concern. “What pain medication am I on? Getting burned always hurt afterwards, but I’m not in any pain.” “Well, that’s good, but…” Lucan swallowed and dug a compact out of his sleeve, opening it to reveal the mirror he handed to her. “You, um, they didn’t burn you.” Thora’s first instinct was to demand the names of everyone involved in this childish prank. How dare they? She wanted to break all the bones in their hands. But the mark was intricate, too intricate for a prank. And – And her – And her eyes had changed. All her life, they had been a tawny brown and now they weren’t.

[moongurl95]

Chapter 6 – Weasley After Class

“I'm truly sorry for taking up all your time like this, Sebastian. You know I can get around the castle just fine.” Beatrice fretted as they both reached the stairs down the D.A.D.A. Tower heading towards the Transfiguration Courtyard.

“Relax, I was heading to the Library anyways, it’s just along the way.” Sebastian paused a beat, before he slowly asked, “Heard Lucan's got something lined up for you tomorrow?”

“Around the same time, yes actually.” Beatrice wondered why he'd asked out of the blue, to which the boy gave a cheeky reply, “If you ever need a partner for Crossed Wands, don't hesitate to call on me.”

“Careful Sallow, others might think I made you hit your head too hard back in Professor Hecat's class if you keep this up.” She teased back.

“Well, you are the only one who's ever bested me in a duel for some time now. The way I see it, I'd be wise to keep an eye on you. I might even learn a thing or two.”

“I'm sure there are a lot more interesting things you're learning from your clever trips to other unsanctioned places.”

“Interesting things yes, but not exactly what I've been looking for...” Beatrice made to look at Sebastian as he trailed off, his mind seeming somewhere for a short moment before his gaze focused back on her, now with a teasing glint, “I'm sure you'll find out soon enough, but not every spell you may need can be found in our assigned textbooks.”

Beatrice narrowed her eyes at Sebastian then, she may have an idea as to what he may be referring to when she openly asked, “Oh? Which ones?” After all, there was no harm in prying for answers that could be given freely, unless they came with consequences.

“Seems I may have met a kindred spirit. Now, that is a conversation for another time.” Sebastian let out a hearty laugh as he pushed open the doors heading out to the Transfiguration Courtyard, he had a brow raised in challenge whether she'd push him further for an answer, but the ensuing whoosh from a nearby Floo Flame she'd activated upon entry made her remember to focus on her current objectives.

“Well then, here I am.” She said, acceding that she wouldn't push for now, as she made to part ways.

“Here you are, indeed. It was a pleasure chatting with you.” Sebastian stopped to watch her, a bit too intently if she was being honest, as he held a knowing smile on his face, “I'm sure I'll see you soon. Perhaps somewhere 'unsanctioned'. If you're interested.” Beatrice watched as the boy shook his head in afterthought, as if not believing he'd said that out loud, before he turned away and raised a hand in parting, “Till next time.”

Beatrice waved a hand at his retreating form as she smiled, Sebastian had been a charming companion from the start, there wasn't any real reason for her to steer clear of him despite the advise she's had regarding his friend, who she thinks deserves the benefit of doubt especially when she hadn't personally interacted with the Gaunt boy just yet.

She’d pushed open the door to the Transfiguration Classroom with a smile on her face, quite pleased to have activated two Floo Flames in the area, when she spotted Professor Weasley quietly talking with a house elf who quickly disapparated upon seeing her entry.

“Ah! There you are.” Said the Professor as she stood up from her desk and made way towards Beatrice, “I trust your first classes went well?” She had asked with a warm smile.

“They did, Professor.”

Professor Weasley looked pleased as she nodded in reply, “I heard as much from Professors Hecat and Ronen. Seems Professor Fig taught you quite a bit before you arrived.” A beat before her following question, “I’d wager there’s a good deal more to your travels here than what you’ve told me— isn’t there?”

“Nothing more, Professor.” Beatrice hoped her smile hadn’t frozen solid on her face as she tried to relax her shoulders in answer.

“I see. Like trying to get a sonnet from a Streeler.” Professor Weasley looked at her a moment longer, in somewhat utter dismay this time, which truly pricked at Beatrice’s conscience, before the older woman continued speaking, “Regardless, you must continue to build upon what you’ve learned. I trust your professors have already mentioned the extra assignments they’ve prepared to hasten you in your school progress?”

At Beatrice’s affirmation, she couldn’t help but wonder when exactly she would get started. She actually didn’t mind the additional workload if it meant to add to her magical repertoire.

“In fact, Professor Ronen will meet you outside momentarily to assign your first one. Now, regarding the trip to Hogsmeade I mentioned earlier.” Professor Weasley held out her hands as a piece of rolled parchment and a small drawstring bag appeared in front of her, which she then handed over to Beatrice, “We’ve arranged to replace the supplies lost on your way here— including seeds, potion recipes and spellcrafts— as you’ll see in the list, and this bag will assist greatly in helping you carry all that you may need.”

“Thank you, Professor.” Beatrice couldn’t believe her luck! The Extension charm she’d casted on her robe pockets could only hold enough not to make a sound, but this bag would definitely come in handy when she’d start checking out books from the Library.

“I’ll be looking forward to the perfect wand Mr. Ollivander will connect you with. You’ve managed your classes well with a borrowed wand, but you’ll find the magic you cast with a wand that has chosen you to be far superior.”

“The wand chooses the wizard...” Or so Beatrice had come across from a quick reading on wandlore, but one thing she was certain of was that the Ollivanders’ were genuine craftsmen and highly skilled wandmakers.

“I’m eager to get to Hogsmeade.” She’d pocketed her additional items, feeling bubbling excitement at the prospect that surely her new wand will help this uneasy built-up of magic she was inwardly feeling.

“Very well. I’d like you to make your first visit to the village with a classmate, help you get your bearings. Perhaps Sebastian Sallow or Natsai Onai? I’ve heard from Professors Hecat and Ronen you’ve spent time with them.”

This gave Beatrice pause, a slight tilt to her head as she quickly ran over her decision… Natty had already been here for a little over a year but— she’d automatically thought the safer choice would be someone she had already seen and duelled against. Especially in the event that goblins like Ranrok would try to ambush her outside of Hogwarts…

“I’d like to go with Sebastian.”

“Glad to hear it. Mr. Sallow is a capable young wizard and he knows the area. He’ll keep you well clear of any of Victor Rookwood’s undesirables en route.

“Rookwood?” Beatrice furrowed her brows in question, and here she thought it was only goblins she and Professor Fig had to worry about.

“A rather unsavory local. Best to avoid him and his associates— including his ‘right hand’ of sorts, Theophilus Harlow— if you can.” Suddenly, what Samantha said last night began to make sense. But why wasn’t the Wizarding community doing anything about it, especially with the town so close to school? Beatrice momentarily worried how this sounded like the small-time muggle crime syndicates back in London, maybe even worst.

“I’ll have Mr. Sallow meet you at the castle doors in an hour, don’t worry about your afternoon Electives, you’re excused. Go talk to Professor Ronen about your assignment before the lunch hour begins. The sooner you complete your work, the sooner you can enjoy a Butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks.”

As much as Beatrice took Professor Weasley’s stern look seriously, she also hoped she’d be able to enjoy a mug of Butterbeer in peace at Hogsmeade.

next chapter ⤜⤏