#my partner and i thought we were done with the underdark at the end of our last play session and the *relief* i felt

[thats-a-lot-of-cortisol]

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[avelera]

Random thoughts on the D&D movie in no particular order:

I loved the jokes. All of them. All the stupid jokes. I was their target audience and they succeeded at making me cackle at dumb shit while my partner's soul left his body

The landscape shots were breathtaking and honestly made me tear up at the beauty in places. In the theater, I remember thinking, "Yeah, FUCK yeah, these guys understood the assignment!" Nine out of ten times, I think fantasy should be animated, because if you don't pour millions into the budget, the action looks like crummy LARPers wearing silly costumes in the woods. This movie understood that if you're doing live action fantasy, you owe your audience some damn beautiful landscape shots and damn did they deliver on some beautiful landscape shots.

(cut for spoilers)

I sincerely appreciated Holga and her husband being divorced but still amicable. I'm so tired of the trope of exes being evil or awful. They just seemed like two adults who wanted to love each other but the circumstances of being together doomed them from the start. It was played for laughs but it was just a moment I genuinely enjoyed as divorcee. I also loved her ex's new wife looking exactly like her, both for the gag, and for what it said about both of them being each other's type even if it didn't work out.

I also cackled like a hyena at Holga's halfling fetish while also finding it rather sweet and enjoyed imagining all the reasons why she might have that preference lol

As a basic Drizzt Do'Urden loving bitch, I squeed when I saw Icewind Dale on the map. Then I had a moment between that and the Underdark of wondering, "Am I gonna see him? Even in the distance? Am I going to see my first love, Drizzt Do'Urden??"

And then I realized: the Paladin. The Paladin is Drizzt. Only good person who came out of a nation destroyed by evil. Too good for this world, too pure, to the point of being sanctimonious but is also a hottie. Xenk is Drizzt.

Oh, I also squeed when I saw the Underdark.

I appreciated how knowledge of D&D improved certain story beats (like the gelatinous cube or the displacer beast) but wasn't required to enjoy the plot. That's how references should be done.

The most agonizingly cringe moment for me was when Holga was dying. Just. I appreciated the beat. It couldn't go any other way. They delivered on their set up with the tablet, the only question was ever, "Who besides his wife is going to get saved with it?" And it made perfect sense who it was. I'm glad they didn't try to pull a fast one. But the scene was like... 10 seconds too long of her dying for me to not roll my eyes. We know you're going to use the tablet on her, dipshit, please keep this moving.

BUT I think the reason they did it was to land a sincere moment with the daughter, and I appreciated that. I think the scene could have been improved by Holga being like, "Don't you fucking dare use that tablet on me!" and then smacking him when he did it anyway and then he'd have to explain that he set out to save his daughter's mother, not his wife, who has passed on, etc etc. but I'm not sure that would have been much better so maybe the drawn-out opera death scene and the sincerity was better in the end idk.

I KINDA wanted to see the actors as the players playing D&D BUT I know why they didn't and it was a wise choice, it undermines the drama too much to say it doesn't matter because it's a game. Maybe if instead they'd should the characters playing D&D in universe as normal humans? Idk

I thought there'd be more Xenk? I thought he'd be in the arena with them? A little bummed but I also loved his GM NPC energy.

The combat and camera work was great! Genuinely enjoyable and well made, I appreciated the artistry that went into it.

Loved the bardic distraction scene for truly capturing the chaos of a D&D party's attempt at breaking and entering

Loved the portals bit for truly capturing the strategy and planning that can go into a functioning D&D campaign's clever heist, even if I'm sure it would have taken 5 sessions to plot out IRL

Honestly, it was just a fun, solid film! It's been a while since I've seen such a fun, solid film! I would buy it and put it on in the background to just enjoy and not angst over it! It was worth the price of admission, it was faithful to the spirit of D&D instead of sneering at it the way the early 2000s one did, and I had a good time! It wasn't the highest of art but it would have been weird if it had been! I liked it a lot!

[photochoco]

Testimonials to a broken oath

When Nemises (Tav) breaks her oath freeing the 7,000 spawn from Cazador's dungeon, one of her companions, newly free and ever in love with her, has some thoughts of his own regarding the matter.

(A drabble written from the perspective of Astarion after Nemises, my Paladin Tav, makes a fateful decision.)

The benefits of having a smaller party meant they were able to slip out of the Szarr palace without much notice. None of them were quite aware of how much time had passed in that shadowed, acrid, foul place. When they did push their way out through the door they had entered, the sun, the lovely sun, was already nearly finished with its descent below the horizon, signaling the arrival of another night. 

The air of the lower city was not the freshest, full of smoke and heat and a stink that made them all almost long for the wilderness where they had found each other. But now, after spending what had evidently been hours in the underbelly of Cazador’s wretched abode filled with centuries of stagnant air that reeked of death, it was as sweet as any ambrosia. 

Karlach shifted the weight on her back. Through their slow ascent up too many stairs- truly far too many- Nemises had not awoken. She’d barely even stirred. 

It was a memory still fresh; Astarion, unsure of what to do with the staggering number of spawn, turned to Nemises for advice, his dead master’s staff white-knuckled in his hands. There had been a moment of ponderance, or maybe of hesitation, before she voiced her opinion. 

We should free them. They deserve a chance, like you. 

And so Astarion did. The cell doors swung up, the starving spawn swarmed around the other six, and at Astarion’s behest, they all left quietly, to the Underdark. A decisive act of mercy and compassion in a place that had, up until that moment, been so utterly devoid of it.

What happened next, happened fast. 

Nemises doubled over, wracked with chest spasms. A gasp of shock rolled into a groan of pain as she was driven to her knees. Then, a figure appeared. A tall, imposing knight in full armor, eyes glowing an ethereal red, gloved hands resting on a massive greatsword.

“You have broken your oath, paladin.” 

The figure disappeared with the promise of waiting for her at the end of day, at their camp. It left her, with Karlach, Shadowheart, and Astarion in that quiet place.

“What have you done?? What have you done?!” It was Astarion who shouted first, turning on Nemises. 

He didn’t know much about paladins and their oaths, but knew enough to be aware that whatever had just happened was bad. Her oath, broken, because she decided to- 

“I— I told you we should have let them die!” He couldn’t stop the words that burst forth. “Look what that did! Gods, why…why do you always have to be like this?! Things would be so much easier if you didn’t have such a godsdamned bleeding heart!”

“They…deserve a chance…” Nemises wheezed out. Her face had turned a sickly color, a sheen of sweat across her brow. “You…you wanted to kill them…to ease your shame. That…isn’t a good reason. You’re…better than that.” 

“"And you're not letting them live for the same reason? To erase your own shame and guilt for something from your past? Not everyone is a little feel-good passion project for you!"

“Astarion, that’s enough!” 

Astarion jolted to hear Shadowheart finally speak. She knelt next to Nemises, holding her close, cradling her as she panted for breath. And she glared at him. It didn’t last, however, as her angry visage sputtered out and she turned her attention back to her partner. She tucked Nemises’ hair behind her ear and spoke soft words of reassurance.

Nemises’ face, covered in blood, screwed up in agony as another shudder wracked her body. “I…I…”

“Hush, love,” Shadowheart murmured, pressing a kiss to her brow. “Just breathe.” 

Nemises mumbled something incomprehensible before her eyes rolled and she slumped, passed out, against the ex-Sharran. 

“That was a bit out of line, soldier,” Karlach murmured to Astarion. “You know she meant well. She always does.” “Let's…” Astarion swallowed. “Let’s just get out of here. This place stinks of death and I want to feel alive again.”

— — — 

That had been nearly three days ago. And Nemises still hadn’t woken. The party moved to the Elfsong Tavern; they were lucky enough to snag the entire top floor for a mere 200 gold. It was a far cry from the camping conditions they’d put up with for weeks, this had closed walls, a roof over their heads, and privacy. 

Luckier still, to have a comrade in someone as wise as Jaheira, who had fought alongside many a paladin before, and seen her fair share of broken oaths. 

“Sometimes, the paladin can pass out from the shock,” she had said. “From how I know it, a paladin’s oath is a cause they swear to with their very soul. A promise made that deeply, when broken, does something to them. She is young, and clearly embodied her oath wholly and fully. She will likely be unconscious for a few days. All we can do is watch over her until she wakes.”

This was confirmed by a book Gale had found in the camp inventory, one Nemises had apparently found and stored with the rest of their reading material. A book on Paladins and Oathbreakers. 

Jaheira was right; breaking an oath literally ripped out a piece of the paladin’s soul.

Astarion left Karlach and Shadowheart to fill everyone else in on the blanks as he went to wash the remnants of Cazador’s blood from his body. To be honest, he didn’t really remember most of that first night. Or the second. The numbness hadn’t gone away, even after he climbed to the top of the tavern to watch his very first sunrise as a free, truly free man. The rays of first light washed slowly over his face, his neck, his body, his hands, but it did nothing to chase away that numbness that had settled into a hollow pocket in his chest.

Numb.

Everyone in camp was now well aware of what Nemises had done for the spawn, for him, and the sacrifice she had made. She was still asleep, made comfortable in the softest bed available in their private quarters. Shadowheart insisted on caring for her, but it became clear very quickly she was reluctant to leave her self-assigned post. She shooed away anyone who offered to take over. 

Eventually, however, seeing Shadowheart’s head bob to her chest then jerking up one too many times got to him, and Astarion stood and walked over to her.

“Shadowheart, let me take over.”

“A-Astarion?” The cleric looked up with a start. Her eyes were bleary, face puffy. It was evident she’d barely slept at all. 

“You’ve been at it ever since we got back. Take a break.” “But-” “I can handle it. I only need to trance. You look dead on your feet and it isn’t a good look for you,” Astarion interrupted. “Imagine how Nemises will feel when she wakes up and finds out you didn’t take care of yourself at all. She’ll have a fit!”

“Keep up those jokes like that and you’ll be the one who’s dead where they stand,” Shadowheart retorted. There was no real bite behind it; the two of them enjoyed such a manner of dark banter, even now was no exception. “I’ll let you know if she begins to stir. I promise.”

Shadowheart stood up slowly, wobbling, and made her way to her own bed. Astarion watched as she collapsed onto the comforter unceremoniously and was out in half a breath.

The air was quiet, save for the muffled hustle-bustle of the tavern below them. But even that seemed far away now and Astarion sat down next to Nemises for his vigil. Her face was peaceful, her chest rose up and down steadily beneath the covers. The blood was wiped clean and the bruises almost faded. Her arms were resting nearly atop the comforter.

It was smart on Nemises' part to bring Shadowheart to the fight. It had been short but utterly brutal, and plainly speaking, they'd made it out by the skin of their teeth. Had Shadowheart not been there, with her healing spells, and Nemises, with her Healing Radiance, they all might have died down there.

Astarion suppressed a shudder to remember how Cazador had nearly sucked the life from Nemises with Blight after beating him just about within an inch of his life. His pointed teeth grit; the bastard was dead, forever, yet he still had the gall to haunt him both waking and sleeping like this??

He sat there, feeling swallowed by the silence.

“You paladins…none of you make sense,” he heard himself say. “You act like your oath alone makes you better than everyone. Placing yourselves on a pedestal of self-righteousness. Being so nice, so moral…I always found it pathetic.

He gazed down at her. 

“Then there was you. The true poster child of paladins, you're as goody-goody as they come. Avoiding violence whenever possible and whenever you did thrust your sword into someone, there always had to be a good reason. Even back in Cazador's palace, you held me on such a short leash. A paladin in the castle of a vampire lord, determined to help kill him, what a tale that would be, hah! He took another deep breath. “I always figured you felt guilty for something. After all, that’s the only reason people are ever nice. They either want something from you or are trying to make themselves feel better.

“And when it came down to it…” his clenched fists shook in his lap. “You somehow talked me out of the ritual. Out of all that power. Because you thought it wasn't worth it to sacrifice all those souls. You, the golden paladin, always tough to swallow, always! With that defender of the helpless and the hopeless act. Trying to save me from myself.

It was over. It was done. Why was he still dwelling on this? 

“Except I see now it isn't an act. Gods, that makes it even more unbearable.”

He stared at her, feeling something inexplicable, ugly, breach like a bubble in his chest. 

“Why do you care for others so much? You've barely asked for anything in return, ever. People should be on bended knee for you, thanking you with everything they have, all the money and protection and power in their possession, for what you do. 

“You saved a grove of refugees and lifted a century-long curse. Helped countless strangers with all manner of problems. You encouraged Wyll to choose himself and free his soul. You helped Lae’zel and Shadowheart turn away from their goddesses who sought to use them. You helped fix Karlach’s engine so she has a little bit longer left. You persuaded Gale to not blow us and himself all up in some giant self-sacrifice to appease his goddess. And you helped me kill my master, something I never thought possible. You freed me. Not once did you ask for anything in return.

Astarion chewed the inside of his lip before he reached out and took her hand. It was so warm in his, he could feel it seeping into his flesh like a ray of sunlight.

"I still don't understand why you did that, when it did.... this to you. I always thought you were too kind for your own good, how many times has that bleeding heart of yours nearly been the end of you...? Yet, if you weren't this kind, would you even be you...?"

Guilt snaked its way inside, twisting with the sorrow. Why had she done so much for him when he’d given her nothing but trouble from day one? Why had she continued to show everyone, including him, such unfettered kindness even after she had seen the worst parts of him, his worst shames? She helped and supported and fought for everyone, but when she did it for him, it cost her a piece of her soul. 

He wasn’t worth that. He wasn’t. Why did she so stubbornly refuse to see it?? 

Astarion brought her hand up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss against it.

“I still don't think I can be what you see in me. Even if I'm more than what he made me to be, that doesn't amount to anything at all.”

Gods, why did he feel so lost? So uncertain? What would Nemises be like when she woke up? If her kindness and compassion were tied to her oath, and it was broken, would that part of her be gone too? What if his sun had gone, because of him?

…Surely…surely it had to persist beyond it. Surely…it had always existed, and it was that warmth that made her oath strong rather than the other way around. After all, she was the only one. No one else had a heart like her. 

She…who shone brighter than the sun itself. 

The stairs creaked, and Astarion heard Karlach’s peppy voice floating upwards. The group was back from shopping. Hopefully they managed to find something fresh for him as well- 

He squeezed Nemises’ hand one more time before carefully laying it down to rest upon the comforte. A moment’s hesitation, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear- 

He didn’t get the chance before Gale cleared the last step, arms heavily laden with supplies. Shadowheart’s head jerked up with a start, noticed who it was, then promptly flopped back down into the pillows again. Astarion’s hand similarly jerked back into his lap and he busied himself with pretending he’d picked up where he left off with his book. 

His head felt a little clearer now, as did his heart. If not just a little. He hoped, when she woke up, Nemises’ would, too. And when she woke up, he would thank her. Properly.

I’d like to try for you.

[thespacelizard]

im a simple man, i see a hot drow i black out

rizeth 👃💌, shen 👙, zeth'rinn 🔥

same, bestie

Rizeth:

👃 : Does your OC smell good? Do they have a signature scent?

oh this is a tough one. im bad at smells. in my mind, Rizeth very very very rarely puts any actual like. scent/cologne on. very special occasions for that, and it would probably be something subtle, kinda warm/woodsy almost. the kind of scent that’s expensive but not elaborate, something with undertones.

that being said—Ashenivir definitely thinks he smells very very good, with that sweat and subtle person smell that everyone has. and if you asked him he would completely deny having any opinion on how Rizeth smells because haha what no i don’t. have thoughts. on that. what?

💌 : How would they plan a romantic evening for a significant other?

Rizeth is an overthinker, we know this. So he would spend like a full tenday figuring out what to do, when to do it, how to do it.

Especially because this is Ashenivir, and if this is like, early in The Romance Portion of their relationship, he cannot fuck this up. There is a romantic dinner (probably at his house, so he can indulge in Domming The Boy without witnesses). There are candles. There is a lot of foreplay. Like. A lot.

and after he’s done fucking Ashenivir into insensibility, there will be A Fancy Bath (with more candles), and hair stroking, and reading of arcane theory until Ashenivir either gets impatient and brats at him, or just falls asleep.

listen he always wants to make Shen feel special, and wanted, and prove he’s a good partner (to himself as much as Ashenivir lbr). He’s such a secret romantic, i truly believe this. well. less secret and more ‘i am suppressing all my romantic inclinations for a variety of reasons no i will not be taking questions at this time get out of my house’

Ashenivir:

👙 : What kind of underwear do they use? Is it pretty or functional?

listen, other fandoms have hand wavy science and hand wavy finances. obedience has hand wavy underwear. it’s like. generic fantasy video game underwear, it’s not relevant to the plot. so it’s functional. nice, but functional.

HOWEVER. if we were to apply Real World underwear, i am of the thought that he would be a humble boxer-brief kind of guy. so again, functional. much as i want to put that boy in lingerie, he has some Issues to Work Through before that’s possible.

(god, entirely sidetracked, but i think Rizeth might go feral if Shen showed up to a scene in some kinda stocking-and-garter deal. there would be nothing LEFT of that ensemble by the end of the night. OR FISHNETS. HOLY. Rizeth would eat him alive)

(…now i have a burning need to draw stockings!Shen. can we survive such an image? good grief.)

Zeth’rinn:

🔥 : What’s a surefire way to make your OC get flustered?

THIS IS THE BEST ONE FOR ZETH’RINN. because okay. okay. he’s Jarlaxle’s kid, and he is trying so hard to be the coolest, suavest motherfucker in the Underdark but he is tragically not quite there yet. it is so easy to fluster him by simply flirting back.

He’s like ‘oh god i didn’t think i’d get this far help’. Just tell him he’s pretty or ask if he comes here often and he loses all ability to speak. he was doing so well until you did that, gods dammit, now he has to start all over.

related, he is extremely susceptible to dirty talk. whisper something filthy in his ear and see what colour he turns.

[knightcallie]

Baldur's Bounties: Star Cheeks

Oh Weichei's freckles... Always a hot topic huh. I give him a kiss on da cheeks, mwah❣️

Bioluminescence was common down in the Underdark, be it in the fauna or the people. Weichei supposed it wasn’t common around Faerûn, or it was, but they didn’t look in the right places. His bioluminescence was shown through his freckles, but it was hardly noticeable in the day and even in the night. At least, until he starts to laugh or was experiencing an emotion that gets his cheeks hot. They seemed to glow brighter when it happens, and Temerity had loved to pepper them in kisses, because “gods you’re too fucking cute,” he’d say between kisses.

He’s not sure what had him laughing so hard, but his cheeks hurt and he’s heavily leaning against the log. His freckles were bright, apparent as the stars against the night sky. There was a sound of awe as his laughter died down. Karlach was close now, eyes sparkling as she carefully ran a finger across his cheek.

“Woah… So that’s why that bloke calls ya starcheeks!” she exclaimed.

Huffing the last of his laugh, he said, “Einar never lies. Should hear what he called the others.”

“I’d say though,” Dame Aylin piped, “Has the Moon Mother blessed you? Has she cried tears of joy upon your face when you were born?”

If he had a nickel for every time someone asked if he was star-blessed in a way, he’d have two nickels. 

Syretia Davina, a star elf-genasi, had queried if he was a child of Helian and Cereus at some point. She had caressed his cheek after having a glass of wine (they were having an intellectual discussion of sorts that he couldn’t recall), their cheeks flushed and warm. It was a tentative romance his husbands had encouraged, but it ended in a mutual break.

“I would dare not make you wait for me, for the time in the stars is different from the time down here. I have cherished my time with you starlight, more than you know. I will still continue to love you, but alas, we cannot be.” 

He remembered how he still cried despite it all, understanding and grieving. His freckles had dulled during those weeks, months? He had unexpectedly fallen hard for the star elf-genasi over the years. Her brilliant mind was what drew him in, having someone who can match his was absolutely exhilarating. Beau would easily point out how excitedly happy he was when he came home, Temerity sliding in to tease if he met someone special. 

He and Syretia still talk from time to time, sometimes the latter visited. He has once been in space for the spelljamming academy, but ultimately decided it wasn’t for him. After dying frozen in a simulation and saving the school from an incoming flaming rochetto and getting somehow charmed by a mindflayer, he decided to call the end of that journey. Syretia had recommended him, but didn’t see her within those months. So, mirror talks and visitations from Syretia from time to time only.

Now, he does flush at the idea of a god tearing up in joy when he was born. He never really thought of himself as something special, just a little drow making cannons. His partners and friends had assured him he was, but he just didn’t want to get too big of an ego about it. Stay humbled, because he’s so sure he’d get bit in the ass for it. He just doesn’t think he was a big deal, that’s all. He pressed a palm against a cheek, trying to hide a bit.

“Nie, nothing like that,” he replied, typically dark purple skin brightening to some dark magenta. His freckles twinkled at such an implication. “Bioluminescence is common down in the Underdark, and from time to time, the races down there get it.” He’s seen partial star maps on some. “Be it like this in some form.” He held up his free hand, the back of it dotted with stars. “Or tattoos.” He’s seen beautiful pieces, he’s contemplating on getting one done.

Maybe this was why some of the companions started trying to get him to laugh, giggle. Astarion was getting a bit more silly and over the top, and it all was just so funny to him. His lips always broke into a smile, freckles glowing.

Maybe this was why Wyll started to wax poetry about being the night sky personified. His cheeks burned and his freckles did so brightly, already shyly hiding one way or another. Wyll was tickled with his squeaking, trying to coax him from hiding so he could pepper those cheeks in kisses.

Maybe this was why Gale had temporarily weaved a crown of stars to set upon his head. A declaration of adoration as the wizard kissed his knuckles, willing to serve under the prince of stars.