#myndilon verse || bg3

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for @fxrest-bcrn

He'd visited this little inn many, many times before the shadows fell over the land; Reithwin had been a favorite stop of his— and Silandawen's— on the road from Baldur's Gate to his wife's once-Grove. Fine drinks, fine food, a good hospital, clean rooms and a bustling culture. He might have happily settled there once, long ago. Now he stared at the murky waters of this cursed stretch of the Chionthar from the balcony of the Last Light Inn, half-remembered ghosts of riverboats making their lazy way past, music from the bards echoing in his mind. Or was that the kind tiefling below? He shook his head, and the music remained. The Harpers' young guest, it was. He turned back to the river, trying to make out some— any— spot of light in the dark.

An ear flicked as he heard footsteps on the creaking balcony, and he turned to see his visitor with some surprise; so few, after all, were interested in seeking the judgement of a paladin who had, by most accounts, lost his best judgement; and his latest outing into the darkness, where he'd been set upon by wraiths and shadows, had only calcified their skepticism. A wide, lop-sided smile spread over his face as he saw Halanor, and met the young elf at the door, wrapping an arm over the shorter elf's shoulder, and pulling him close. His great-grandson reeked of the wilderness, the darkness clinging to his armor, his bow, everything; but he still held onto the boy.

"I was hoping you would return before bed-time," he said with a soft hum. "I do worry, having you venturing into the darkness without me—oh , but I know you are more than capable. You have got your grandmother's way with nature! Why, if she were with us, instead of…." he stopped, brows furrowing. Where was she? "Wherever she is, this curse would be lifted in no time at all." He moved back to the balcony. leaning against it, the ancient wood groaning under his weight. "Now, then, have you made any head-way in finding the Tower in all this murk? Unless my memory fails me, it was… oh… south-west of this inn. It was beautiful, when Sil and I visited… if we are lucky, it still is."

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The old Paladin simply grunted at her meek response, as if she were a granddaughter that had stayed out too late, or found herself in some minor, (if predictably foolish) youthful trouble. He lowered himself onto the fallen log, glaring up at the sun as if he could force it to set faster, before turning a more gentle gaze to the younger Drow. "I am sure," he said, voice soft, "that you could have said something. The average wizard, or warrior, or—" He stared at their resident vampire for a long time, "whatever his profession is— does not understand the dangers of that sort of book. It is up to the likes of you and I to tell them."

His gaze drifted around the camp, before landing on his great-granddaughter, chasing the dog their little party had taken to keeping around… and wincing as she stumbled over a stone, popping back up as if it'd never happened. He hummed thoughtfully as he listened to Fely'ene, patting the log next to him— an offer to sit. "Your judgement was not wrong," he said, nodding to her, before returning to the work of cleaning his sword, and sharpening it for the next battle. "You should listen to it, and trust others to do the same."

Belthan looked up at the younger elf, studying her for a moment, before turning back to the silver rapier in his lap. "Where magic is concerned? Have no expectations, and treat it as the threat it is," he said, a corner of his mouth pulling up into a small half-smile. "I like to think that knowing how to stay alive is one of the few benefits of my age."

@roquenxnar from here.

"...a necromancer's basement." a pause, wincing as she said it out loud.

"i didn't want to bring it back." fely'ene insisted, her voice small and clearly chastised. she admired beltan. in some ways she felt a small pang of jealousy for his granddaughter -- how lucky she was to have someone like him. yet, she also knew she had her brother. even if he was somewhere off the coast. which, given how things were currently was for the best, even if her heart ached with missing him. she hoped he was safe. perhaps next time they made it to a city of any size, she would see if she could get a message up to luskan.

she forces herself out of her own head, prestidigitation the remaining blood off of herself. "it felt wrong. like something in the back of my head was shouting it was bad. but astarion insisted." fely'ene looked down, clearly leaving the 'and i didn't want to push for my own thoughts' unspoken.

she looks up, "so we did. yet, something wouldn't stop nagging at me about how off it was. and it felt...dark, so i thought if i hit it with radiance, maybe it would fix it. i didn't think it was going to do what it did."

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|| also I made myndi's dream guardian his wife, silandawen and... ouch :')

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||BG!Myndilon ✨

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|| I realized I haven't put any screenshots of BG3! Myndilon, so here he is :> Icly, he's a sun elf; and Silandawen was a wood elf.

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|| More BG3 Myndilon

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|| A loyal servant of Corellon and his wayward great-grandson

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The ancient paladin rolled his shoulders, stretching his arms over his head… and trying to follow his grandson's gaze over the water. He leaned over— how small the lad still was!— and tapped him on the shoulder, before pointing across the water, into the darkness. "You see that? I took your mother's father there to fish, several times; oh, those little creatures would go mad for the bread from this inn! You could hardly pull your line in fast enough!" He laughed, rocking back— very nearly too far.

"As for the magic, it will help, when I join you. I may not have seen these particular shades before, but no darkness can stand against the Light." Myndilon hummed thoughtfully, rubbing his chin, eyes closing for just a moment. "I will teach you; you may be hesitant, but you've nothing to fear— nothing at all! You have got your grandmother's heart, and my blood in your veins; it will be easy for you to learn."

The young ranger's insistence, though, that he stay behind, made him stumble backward, nearly stumbling over his own shield he'd so carelessly left at his side. His ears flushed a deep red, and he righted himself slowly. "You have not 'brought' me anywhere, my boy; I followed you here of my own volition— I swore a solemn oath to protect these lands, and you. I will not allow myself to fail either." He cleared his throat. "Besides, it is rather too late for me to be 'getting' older— that ship has long sailed, I am afraid! Several centuries ago!"

Hal couldn't help but smile as he felt the divine magic wash over him; it felt warm, cleansing. He gave a nod, looking perhaps just a bit less tired than before, and followed his grandfather to the railing. His gaze fell to the murky and viscous surface of the water surrounding the inn. How anything could live there, he couldn't say. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the railing as the old elf did, and rested his bow against it. (He had no need for weapons in their sanctuary.)

"Right as rain, indeed. I wish that magic could do something for the shades," he said, his voice trailing off in a soft chuckle... though it lacked any humor. There was little humor to be found in this cursed land, and the promise he'd made to protect the ancient paladin proved more difficult to keep by the day. At his grandfather's statement, he looked up, brows knitting as he turned to face the old elf.

"Grandfather," he murmured, "That... that is not a good idea. I know you want to help but... this place—" He trailed off, eyes scanning the other shoreline. He could just barely catch the lurching gait of a shadow-cursed githyanki through the fog. He looked back up to Myndi. "You're getting older, Grandfather. I shouldn't have even brought you out here." Hal shook his head. "There's no shame in resting at your age. And if any of my companions say differently, you can tell them I said to 'stuff it.'"

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He held his great-grandson close, soaking up the lad's warmth (particularly needed, in this frigid, dark forest), gently rubbing Hal's back, not unlike he'd once done, when he was young. With a wave of his hand, and a quick gleam of silvery magic, the remaining darkness melted away from them both; and Myndilon winced, his magical energy drained, at least for the time being. "There we are," he said with a soft hum, "right as rain. I do worry for you, you know, wandering about in that darkness. It is like nothing I have ever seen in my life— and as you know, I've seen more than my fair share of it!" Once he'd returned to the railing, he held out a hand, urging the younger elf closer, so they could stand together.

The ancient Paladin's lips drew into a thin frown, and his eyes narrowed at something moving across the river. Something… certainly not something living. He turned back to his grandson, and shook his head. "Well, then, we will have to ensure that it is cleaned and given a generous dousing of perfume," he said, giving the younger man a wry grin. "I daresay the stench is likely worse than whatever tortures this so-called 'Absolute' can come up with!"

"As for this curse… I will accompany you when you venture forth tomorrow— and there shall be no dissuading me, I assure you! I will show these wretched shades what-for; payback for—" he winced as he rolled his shoulder; the tumble he'd taken into the dark when their little party had entered the shadow-curse had yet to truly heal. "For making me look like a damned fool in front of your companions."

Halanor shrugged the bow off of his back, the weight of the Shar-cursed shadows still clinging to him— or at least, it felt like they did. He watched his grandfather for a moment, leaning against the doorway. It was tough to tell exactly when through the old elf's mind, and Halanor wondered if he shouldn't have left him in the enclave, retrieved him once the Sword Coast was once again safe. (It was obvious to everyone that his grandfather's mind was... not what it once was.)

He shook off the thought, though, pushing himself off the doorframe and joining Myndilon once he'd had a moment to rest. And when they finally met, he returned his grandfather's hug tightly.

"I'm fine out there, Grandfather," he murmured, worry etched into the younger elf's brow at the elder's lost memory. His grandmother had been gone for years... but he couldn't bring himself to remind his grandfather of that. Instead, he gave a soft sigh, ears flicking a bit as he shook his head.

"No luck. And something tells me," his mouth pulled into a slight frown, "That it is not nearly as beautiful covered in goblins and unholy cultist horrors. Perhaps it could be, once we clear the Absolute out of it."