#she was born and raised in the underdark

[evtoine]

this screenshot is hilarious to me. like damn guess who's the bard...

also her name is mal'lauaynrae now, but she just goes by mal 🫶

[rosecreates]

Consider this my finalized "List of My Tavs" because I've made one for pretty much every class I'm interested in playing at this point (having made 3 more since my previous post about the Tavs I have and including Sylve this time because I love her, even if her playthrough has been completed) and I think they're all a very lovely various bunch of ladies.

From left to right, top to bottom...

Sylve: High Half-Elf / Ranger - Beast Tamer

Raven: Lolth-Sworn Drow / Bard - College of Swords

Nimue: High Elf / Sorcerer - Draconic Bloodline (White)

Ez'ria: Githyanki / Warlock - The Great Old One

Bea: Half-Drow / Wizard - School of Necromancy

Lusine: Mephistopheles Tiefling / Paladin - Oath of Devotion / Deity - Selune

Fortuna: Fairy [Modded Race] / Bard - College of Lore / Deity - Tymora

Elrayne: Seldarine Drow / Cleric - Light Domain / Deity - Eilistraee

Lorona: Levistus Tiefling [Modded Subrace] / Rogue - Thief

Acantha: Seldarine Drow / Ranger - Gloomstalker

Helene: High Elf / Druid - Circle of the Moon / Deity - Silvanus

(Not bothering to specify romances this time only because several are undecided and several are just Astarion because this white-haired vampire has me in chokehold but Elrayne and Karlach are super cute I'll say)

Edit: I changed Helene's image because my intention for her is "Moon/Nature Witch" in terms of appearance, and well, the new outfit I've given her fits better.

[lunastrophe]

Drow Lore 🕷️ Drow Terms Of Address (part 2)

More terms of address for drow characters and (Lolth-sworn) drow - drow interactions. This time a few tips on how to address your drow lover in various types of relationships 🖤

🕷️ Choosing A Lover - in a Lolth-sworn drow society, a female always makes the first move. In theory, she is free to sate her physical desire with whatever partner arouses her attention. In practice, though, it is not always that simple. Sometimes things get complicated: when the person she wants has already been claimed by another female, or is subjected to someone more powerful, or is a member of a rival noble house, or (in case of females) has much higher station than her.

Drow males cannot choose their lovers, at least not female ones. In a Lolth-sworn drow society, they have no right to consent - or to refuse to consent, for that matter. They are simply taken by females and they are expected to comply and satisfy them, since rejecting (or disappointing) a female is customarily punished. It is not uncommon for females to torture or even kill their male lovers on a whim.

Typical (female) drow pickup line is probably something similar to kla'ath ussa, jaluk ('serve me, male').

🔹 Drow can refer to their lovers as: xi'hum ('pet', 'plaything'), seriso ('lover'), m'ranndii ('mate'), also mrimm d'ssinss ('female lover') / mrann d'ssinss ('male lover').

Mrimm d'ssinss means literally 'inspiration of seduction / allure / charm'. Both mrimm d'ssinss and mrann d'ssinss are terms that may indicate some dose of admiration - they also sound quite intimately, like half-purrs, half-whispers.

🕷️ Lover Of A Noble Female - matron mother's chosen mate is called ilharn ('patron'), but she is free to take as many lovers as she wants to. A male lover who is not the patron of the House, but enjoys the matron's favors, is called parzdiamo ('male playmate'). A lover of a noble female with more or less established status can be called zil ('consort').

Being attached to a powerful female is often seen by drow males as a way to raise their social status - patrons (or favoured consorts) usually have rivals seeking to undermine their position.

Males born or adopted into noble houses, especially the most talented or promising ones, are treated in many ways like their matron mother's property. Matron mother has the right to decide which females can or cannot have them, and she may even "borrow" the most valuable males to females of other houses - in exchange for favors, information etc. Such males are sometimes "borrowed" for breeding purposes.

🕷️ Lover With Feelings - developing genuine feelings for your drow lover may be a very bad idea. Such a thing is not only dangerous (according to drow, all trust is foolish), but it is also seen as unbefitting a drow and forbidden - and can be punished with torture or even with death.

It applies especially to female-male relationships (the fact that Lolth really, really hates her ex-husband may have something to do with this aspect of Lolth-sworn drow culture).

Drow do fall in love, though - very rarely and mostly with other drow, since they tend to perceive non-drow as inferior. According to Drow of the Underdark, 3.5e: "the sudden urge to consider someone else's well-being is a strange and frightening experience [for a drow]. Many drow react violently to love, seeking to destroy the object of their affections before they are further "corrupted" by the odd sensations. Those who don’t become violent usually make every effort to either impress or dominate the object of their affections, depending on their relative social standing. (...) for even the most loving drow sees little difference between intimacy and possession."

🔹 Drow can refer to a loved one as 'che ('loved one' - or at least as close as a drow term can get to the meaning of this word) or 'chev ('beloved'), or even quor'vlosara ('soulmate').

🔹 Drow can also use terms of endearment like ussta ssinssrigg ('my love / longing / passion' - ssinssrigg traditionally means all these things, also 'greed' and 'lust'), or ussta alurlssrin ('my love' - alurlssrin means unselfish, deep love; it is a term introduced to drow language by Eilistraeans, so probably not widely known in the Underdark).

🔹 (From BG2) ussta mzilst ssin'urn ultrin ('my most handsome / beautiful conqueror') - words of a female drow who has fallen in love with a man from the surface.

In a Lolth-sworn drow society, lavishing your drow lover with sweet words and tender gestures is something that should be done only in private - being discovered can mean torture and / or death for one or both of you.

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

[glacierclear]

If it's alright to ask, you mentioned in her bio that Otherday had a skewed and flawed impression on Selûnite worship. Can you please elaborate on that? Does Otherday not worship like other Selûnites? Does she not understand Selûne the moon goddess entirely?

(disclaimer: i have a pretty surface-level understanding of d&d religions and cultures, this is mostly based off what i can glean from baldur's gate in my time playing.)

otherday was born and raised in the underdark. she was neither seldarine nor lolth-sworn. she was abandoned by her birth parents for reasons unknown to her and was raised by a colony of myconid. as a kid, she'd explore on her own and stumbled on an old, dilapidated selunite outpost (similar to the one you find in-game, if not the same one) and was fascinated by the old journals/texts, artifacts and selunite symbology.

she could basically figure out that they worshiped the moon and someone named selune. and she picked up the basic teachings of acceptance and tolerance, and the mindset of being self-sufficient and humble.

her idea of a "moon" was a little off the rails. having never seen the sky, she figured the giant white circle she saw in all the murals WAS selune, and the depictions of the pretty white haired lady was just a different person. maybe they were friends, too, since every selunite loved having friends in her eyes.

and obviously, she has no idea what a "nightsong" or a "nightsinger" is. she's seen vague mentions of these things and probably thought selunites really just loved music. which made sense to her. even her myconid family loved to dance! all nice people must just be really good at dancing and singing.

most of her misconceptions are bizarre and goofy but ultimately harmless. i want to brainstorm more small misunderstandings because the idea is very silly to me.

she's a pacifist, and will aid and help anyone (even if it's the stupid/wrong choice to do so) and sees it less as a "religion" and more of a "family". she has no interest in spreading the faith or converting potential followers. she just never shuts up about how pretty the moon is and will be friends with anyone. the most intimate way to bond with her is stargazing under the full moon with her.

most notably, she has almost no understanding of the complicated history between selune and shar. she holds no stigma against sharrans and, in that same vein, is confused when sharrans react negatively towards her outward passion towards selune.

it's like rain on glass to her, though. she has the mental fortitude of a cinder block and takes almost no insult to her "religion" or character to heart.

[moonselune]

Ah! I've been so excited to put in a request! I adore the way you write Minthara, can I request her with a trans woman Tav but she hasn't told Minthara yet? Maybe as a former assassin it's not often that she gets nervous, but she knows the way drow perceive men in the Underdark and that her transition probably wouldn't be accepted in Menzobarrenzen. She meant to tell Minthara but ⭐️the stars haven't aligned yet.⭐️ Maybe if things were heading in a s p i c y direction and then she just stops, and Minthara notices she looks terrified, despite barely getting scared at all. Showing emotion is hard and asking for comfort is impossible lol but she is very prepared for Minthara to hate her.

Sorry if it's a super long ask, I've just been really excited to put in a request! It's based on my embrace Durge Tav and despite the bad things she does i love her very much! She's a tiefling named Anika!

Ahhh thank you so much !!! And no worries it was a super fun concept to work with !

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Minthara Baenre x Transfem!reader | Who you are

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The fire crackles in the stillness, casting long shadows around you and Minthara, and normally, this kind of setting would relax you. But tonight, it only sharpens your nerves, your heart pounding at the edge of your throat. She’s close, closer than she has been in a while, and for once, you can’t find the words to meet her with.

You, a trained assassin—someone who never shied from the edge of a blade or the threat of death—were struggling to voice a simple truth. A truth that felt as if it could shift her entire perception of you, leaving you open, vulnerable, at her mercy.

Minthara doesn’t move, her eyes focused and piercing, but not unkind.

“You’re distracted,” she notes, her words laced with observation rather than reprimand. She cocks her head, reading every flicker of your expression with a precision that has you feeling even more laid bare. “I know this is unusual for you,” she adds, raising a brow, “and it must be serious if it renders you so silent.”

Her voice holds a gentleness rarely heard from her—strong but urging you forward. She reaches out, her hand finding yours, and she clasps it, warm and grounding. It’s the smallest touch, yet it manages to unravel the threads of composure you’ve fought to hold on to.

“Speak your truth,” she says again, softly, her voice dipping low as if the words are meant only for you. Her fingers curl around yours with a kind of certainty, a firm reminder that you are here, now, in her presence, and whatever you fear sharing will not be cast aside so lightly.

Your mouth goes dry, heart stammering, but under her watchful gaze, you find the courage to begin.

“Minthara, there’s… something I’ve meant to tell you,” you say, swallowing thickly. Each word feels pulled from a deep place inside you, your pulse loud in your ears as the truth finally begins to surface. “It’s something I should have told you long ago.”

You pause, struggling for air, her eyes steady, patient. There’s no room for fear or silence now; you know you have to say it, let her see you, raw and unfiltered.

“I wasn’t… always seen as I am now,” you manage, voice barely above a whisper. You clench her hand in yours, finding some strength in the way she holds on, unyielding. “I was born a man,” you continue, the words spilling out in a rush. “I… transitioned years ago, outside Menzoberranzen’s reach. I feared that… that if you knew, you’d see me as…” The weight of the words nearly chokes you. “Less.”

A fragile, tense silence falls between you both as you brace for her reaction. It’s the vulnerability of the confession—the fear that she could so easily wound you—that has you ready for the worst, prepared for the sneer or cutting remark that would slice through what little trust you had placed in her.

But Minthara does not flinch. Her expression remains unchanged, but there’s a warmth in her eyes, a spark that tells you she’s not simply humoring you. Instead, she studies you, her thumb tracing a gentle line over the back of your hand. When she finally speaks, her words are as steady as her gaze.

“You assume I’m bound by the hollow beliefs of the Underdark,” she murmurs, her tone rich with conviction and tinged with something softer, almost fond. “But I left that place for reasons beyond my loyalty to Lolth. I came here to be free, free of their small-minded chains.” She leans closer, her gaze never wavering. “You are a woman because you are meant to be. You stand here because you have claimed your identity, no matter what hardship it brought.”

The tightness in your chest loosens slightly, a flicker of hope taking root as she continues.

“Your strength,” she says, her voice soft yet unyielding, “is not simply in your resilience. It is in this—your honesty, even when it frightens you.” Her fingers trace the line of your jaw, and she tilts your chin up so you have no choice but to meet her eyes. “And do you think, for even a moment, that I would view you as anything less? Knowing what you have overcome?”

Her words settle over you like a warm cloak, comforting in a way you hadn’t dared to imagine. You feel the weight of years of secrecy and fear slowly dissipating under her fierce gaze. She squeezes your hand, a silent reassurance, and you realize that her acceptance is not conditional or reluctant. It’s absolute.

Slowly, as though pulling yourself from a trance, you give her a faint nod. The fear that had choked you loosens, and you feel your shoulders drop, a sigh escaping your lips as you lean into her touch.

Minthara’s lips quirk into the smallest, genuine smile, a rare expression on her usually severe face.

“Good. Now stop looking at me as if I’m about to strike you down,” she says, a teasing edge to her voice, her fingers brushing a loose strand of hair from your face. Her expression shifts, a hint of pride glimmering in her eyes. “You have survived far too much to doubt yourself here, with me.”

With a rare, tender touch, she brings her forehead to rest against yours. Her breathing is steady, a quiet rhythm that soothes your frayed nerves.

“Let us take this moment as it is,” she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper, but it holds a kind of power that echoes deep within you. “Free of judgment, free of fear. Let us find the strength to meet each other fully.”

For a moment, you simply exist together in silence, her forehead resting against yours, her steady presence grounding you. Her acceptance, her quiet, unwavering support, becomes a balm you hadn’t realized you so desperately needed. And slowly, you allow yourself to breathe, to let go of the years of fear, the doubt that had weighed so heavily on your heart.

“I can do that,” you whisper, a small smile finally breaking through.

Minthara hums approvingly, her hand coming to rest on your cheek with a softness you rarely saw from her. "Then you and I shall find a path to freedom together,” she says, a promise threading through her words.

And in that moment, for the first time in so long, you feel truly seen and accepted—whole and unbroken.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Hope you guys enjoyed this! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[ariiezart]

Escape the Underdark - BG3 Tav Short Comic

Escape the Underdark - Ariiezart

Sooooooo, here's the general lore for my BG3 bbs Valas and Kethan. I'm still working on all the details for this story lmao. Enjoy my yap session.

Raised in Menzoberranzan under the brutal control of House Au'Dorih, Valas and Kethan spent their early years in the depths of the Underdark. Lirasha, a noble drow sworn to Lolth, was in charge of the household; her harshness was the only thing that could match her strength. Under Lirasha's authority and from other drows, Valas, a drow half-elf, endured constant torture. This resulted from his father's illicit affair with an Elven woman from the surface.

On Lirasha's orders, Valios, Valas's father and a Ranger who was devoted to House Au'Dorih, had previously traveled to the surface. He was entrusted with finding a strong weapon that her mother had misplaced during the previous war.

During his mission, he encountered Etheria, a beautiful druid from Emerald Grove, in her owl bear form gathering berries. Though their meeting began with an intense and bloody fight, it softened when Etheria revealed her elven form. Valios, captivated by her grace, strength, and the harmony she shared with nature, was drawn to her world. Over time, Etheria shared the ways of her people and the teachings of Silvanus with him. Valios purposely delayed his mission, returning again and again to her until their love blossomed and Etheria bore him a son, Valas. He knew it wasn't well... The smartest idea, but gosh he loves Etheria. He figured that Lirasha wouldn't question his whereabouts anytime soon as she's occupied with other things. ( Art of these two??? yes or no, I'll probably do it anyway )

Unfortunately, tragedy struck when Etheria was killed in a goblin attack while Valios was away, and Valios, heartbroken and guilt-ridden, returned to the Underdark empty-handed but carrying his young son, Valas. Lirasha was repulsed by the sight of Valas, a half-breed born from such a transgression. She sent Valios to the spider pits to be sacrificed to Lolth. Valios pleaded for his son’s life, and though Lirasha spared the boy, she condemned him to a life of servitude and suffering. Valas was to become a gladiator for her and her court, a source of twisted entertainment.

Later on, Valas met Kethan, a few years older than him and already skilled in the gladiator pits. Kethan showed Valas the ropes of survival, teaching him the art of combat under Lirasha’s rule. Over time, their bond deepened. Kethan admired Valas’s strength, finding a kindred spirit in him, and eventually, their connection blossomed into something deeper, something intimate. They shared many moments of intimacy, giving each other a sense of warmth and solace despite their oppressive environment.

But while Kethan accepted his role in service to Lirasha and Lolth, Valas quietly dreamed of something more. He longed for freedom, a life beyond the Underdark and Lirasha's tyranny. He spoke of escaping to the surface with Kethan, where they could be together and live freely. But Kethan saw these dreams as foolish and dismissed Valas’s yearning as a hopeless fantasy, something in the fairytale books that Valas enjoyed reading. To him, serving Lolth and the matriarchs of Menzoberranzan was an honor, and he believed Valas should accept his place, even as a half-drow.

Despite Kethan’s harsh skepticism, Valas secretly began to plot his escape. One night, he managed to slip away, leaving his life as a gladiator and servant behind. When Lirasha discovered his absence, she was furious, and sent Kethan to hunt him down, ordering him to bring Valas back, dead or alive. Driven by loyalty yet tormented by love, Kethan pursued Valas, finding him at the edge of the Underdark. There, the two lovers clashed. Valas pleaded with Kethan one last time, asking him to abandon Lolth, to abandon Lirasha and flee with him. But Kethan, torn and heartbroken, refused. With tears in his eyes, he vowed to kill Valas if he wouldn’t return.

Valas, unable to harm his lover, left him behind, turning his back on Lirasha, Lolth, and his past life. Kethan, unwilling to betray his devotion, returned to Lirasha with the fabricated news of Valas’s death. Satisfied, Lirasha considered the matter closed.

Above ground, Valas barely had time to savor his freedom before being captured by mind flayers. Taken aboard a nautiloid ship, he awoke far from the Underdark and on another perilous journey—the journey that would ultimately lead him to Baldur’s Gate, where new alliances, romance, and challenges awaited him.

-End

Bonus pic of Valas and Kethan in-game

-I'm not sure if I want to make a tragic part where Kethan died somehow, and the emperor just kinda took his body and pretended to be him in order to gain Valas' trust.

[meanbossart]

Did Drow ever have a childhood before the temple or was he raised in it? If he did does he remember it? Sorry if these are silly questions I want to make something and I want it to be accurate.

(Heads up for A Novel Experience readers - these are technically spoilers as well as character lore, so, if you wanna stay totally blind to later developments, just don't read past the cut-off.)

Not a silly question at all! He would have found the temple only by age 18 (does that number mean anything to Bhaal/ the drow race? Probably not. Does it help me sleep better at night that he was at least of legal drinking age by the time he got introduced to his murder heritage? Yes It does). He doesn't really remember anything from his childhood other than that he was raised in the Underdark for a time, knows some basics about the culture and harbors a deep hatred of drow women and general dislike of drows. He knows he came to the surface quite young and spent over half his life above-ground, and honed his survival skills during that time, hence why he doesn't have any sun-sensitivity.

As for the details of his up-bringing, he was found somewhere in the wilds of the Underdark as an infant by a couple of slaves who took pity on him, then brought into a family where he was adopted by a matron and her consort who' d just lost their first-born son. Obviously, drows aren't known for their benevolence, but they found there to be something prophetic about this baby that had somehow stayed alive in spite of the Underdark's unforgiving nature, so they decide to keep him as a kind of marvel/curiosity, figuring if he didn't amount to much they could just sacrifice him to Lolth later.

Within the family he was pretty much left to his own devices, with the matron taking a lot of entertainment out of his weirdly feral behavior. He would just eat vermin and bats if she didn't bother feeding him, fended for himself and just showed a lot of strength for a child, not to mention that he never asked for anything or complained about the hand he was dealt. At some point he killed another family's son that picked on him, and, naturally, his foster mom loved that, lol.

ALAS, he killed her and her consort when he was about 10-13 years old, and then just left. Sceleritas would have appeared to him around that time and led the way to Baldur's Gate, while providing him with some basic aid and pointers to survive, though mostly just observing to see if he could prove himself worthy of his heritage by staying alive. He spent years living in the woods and city-streets he passed through, getting sustenance from eating game he hunted, food he stole, and, sometimes, people he killed. Probably fell under the care of a couple of unfortunate souls along the way who likely met a gruesome end, and finally arrived at the temple as a young adult where he lavished in his newly found status.

[spiderwarden]

it's easy to forget that Minthara herself is a social abnormality in her home. She -

- is tired of the concept of having multiple partners, due to experience, and finds she prefers monogamy.

- is part of the Baenre circle who is pro-labor work, and working off debts, and criminals working off crime, favors all of this heartily over enslavement.

- gardens, likely prefers the company of her plants to people.

- would have been open to peace between the Underdark and the Surface Governments, like her Grandmother Yvonnel before her. This want for surface relations and peace, is what lead to her capture in the Absolute to begin with.

- has a more direct raising by her mother than most normal high born households, including being breast fed as a child - she did not have a wet nurse like most.

- thanks to aforementioned, she would have a more direct hand in her own children (and existing children)'s lives.

- married young, or what was close to Drow marriage, and was likely ready to commit a full life to said wife figure.

[autisticdrizzt]

OC Interview Tag: Lavander

@mogruith

The young drow fidgets nervously in the chair, their hand rests on the thick rope-like scar above their throat and they swallows thickly before they pass the interviewer a note written in elvish and underneath it in common.

I am mute and can only communicate through sign language. Sorry to be a bother.

Are you named after anyone?

I had a drow name once, but I perfer it to be dead and buried along with the time I spent in that noble house, about five years ago. After my sister cut through my vocal cords, rending me mute, I had no way to communicate except through the drow sign language I was taught as a child. The person who rescued me had no idea how to speak it, so they taught me elvish sign language as a replacement. I was in the garden one day, I came across the plant lavander and pointed at it because I didn't know what it was. He taught me the sign for the plant, and my name just kind of stuck.

When was the last time you cried?

The last time I cried was when I got separated from my familiar and friend when I was kidnapped by the illithid, Coatl, a python I raised from an egg and has been at my side since I left the Underdark. I don't know how to function without her. I felt completely lost without her and so alone.

Do you have kids?

I was too young to have children after I was nearly assassinated and left to bleed out in the middle the underdark by sister. I don't think I am even capable of having children now that my sister rendered me infertile. I don't know if even Corellon's Blessing can cure what I lost.

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

How would you even define sarcasm? I understand it on a logical level, but I don't find it funny. It's difficult to articulate in words.

What's the first thing you notice about people?

I noticed the way they treat me once they figure out I can't talk. I feel their exasperated and annoyance when I try to write them a note or sign out in my clumsy common. I notice if they treat me as a person or an invalid. I've had people try to steal my crutch from me or trip me because I walk with a limp. People aren't very kind to people who struggle, drow or regardless.

Scary stories or happy endings?

I like scary tragic stories with happy endings or at least bittersweet endings. Rarely do things in reality have a satisfying or hopeful ending. I at least want to pretend they exist even if I know it's make-believe.

Any special talents?

I can cast magic without a verbal component because i was forced to with the injuries I sustained. Other than that, I'm really not that spectacular.

Where were you born?

I was born in Menzoberranzan, which is a complete shithole for all I'm concerned about. It's a miserable spider pit crawling with religious zealots that hates anyone who dares deviates from the norm. I don't miss it one bit.

Do you have any pets?

I have a 14 foot long python named Coatl who remains my closest and dearest friend. She's been with me through some of the most difficult periods in my life. Scatch and Owlbear may not have been able to replace her on my journey, but I'm grateful for them all the same.

What sort of sports do you play?

I don't play sports and do not care for them, especially the vile hunting games they had in Menzoberranzan. It's repulsive.

How tall are you?

I'm rather small for a drow even at 4'11. I try not to dwell on it, but my companions tower over me, so I might as well be a gnome to them.

What was your favorite academic subject?

I like the natural sciences such as botany and zoology. I find them relaxing as I can do it solo in the comfort of my home that I share with my parent. I'm very fond of herpetology because I feel a kinship with reptiles, especially since my ancestors were dragons. It's was rather scandalous, but grandfather was a gold dragon that my grandmother enslaved. Let's not go into logistics anymore than that.

What is your dream job?

I would love to be a naturalist who studies dragons and other mythical reptiles who can raise as many magical creatures as I can. If I could have an entire zoo dedicated to the study of magical zoology, I would.

I tag @queerdrow, @oliverr-gardenn, and @arach-tinilith as well as @majorasnightmare if they want to talk about more of their ocs again. And anyone else who wants to do it.

[tashas-cauldron-of-magic-soup]

Kazimir "Kaz" Littlemoon

surface drow of Waterdeep - the halflings' son - ranger extraordinaire - the dread ambusher - the stag who fell in love with the bear - freckles

Meet him below...

Brief Backstory Kazimir was the third born son of Matron Mother Phaeravine of House Vrammith and her favored consort, Nalaxle. He was born in the summer of 1371 DR, the midst of the Peace of Lolth. A period of uncharacteristic nonviolence for Lolth followers, as the goddess declared a halt to all drow sacrifices. As such, Kazimir could not be killed at birth, as is customary of all third sons and beyond.

Yet Phaeravine, already humiliated at having born twin sons directly before Kazimir, had other plans. She abandoned him to die of exposure in the Underdark. Hoping that Lolth might not notice her disobedience and be convinced the infant's death was accidental.

Fortunately, an adventuring party happened beside the cave where the infant Kazimir lay hungry and crying. Among them, the halfling ranger Quindelline Littlemoon. She brought him home to her wife, Rosina, on the surface and they raised him as their beloved only son.

Kazimir was raised in a majority halfling village, Farwallow-upon-Dessarin, just outside Waterdeep and grew up going to the city regularly. His mothers had him confirmed into the Church of Eilistraee as a child to help protect him, in case any of his biological family came looking for him. They raised him to be kind, considerate, polite, and headstrong. All things drow men ought never to be to Menzoberranzan standards.

He grew up to be an adventurer for hire and fell in with many adventuring parties over the years prior to his kidnapping. And even found love in the form of Mysendra Moonheart, or Mystie as she's better known. The moon elf bard that played at Dagger's Rest, the tavern where Kazimir rents an apartment on the top floor. Even though their decade long open relationship was cut short by her father calling her back to the Dalelands to fulfill her betrothal and take over her family's estate, they remain lifelong best friends through regular letters.

He also found tragedy in his relationship with Joss Merryck, a half elf rogue whom he adventured with from time to time. Joss was a Zhentarim, though barely. He wished to be rid of his duties to the guild, but no one ever truly leaves. Though he found some reprieve in his time with Kazimir. Joss became Kazimir's first male lover when they could finally no longer hide their mutual feelings. But the relationship would end suddenly after two years, when Joss broke it off. He was found dead near Skullport not long after, killed by rival Xanathar Guild as an example to spies. He never told Kazimir that he'd been caught, lest the ranger try and foolishly save him. Kazimir still carries the silver locket Joss gave him on his birthday.

Kazimir was kidnapped by mindflayers somewhere around Amphail as he was travelling to a beast extermination job contracted by a minor Waterdhavian noble. Giant rats eating up their crops at night. He was likely taken around the same time as a certain famous wizard prodigy.

His first order of business upon waking up on the beach is getting a letter up to Waterdeep. He needs to tell Tess, the owner of Dagger's Rest, that he's alive and to assure his mothers of that fact. They're too elderly to a fright like that.

The Ballad of Kazimir Littlemoon (Collected Lore WIP) Menzoberranzan (1/2) Menzoberranzan (2/2)

The Surface (1/2) The Surface (2/2)

Waterdeep (1/2) Waterdeep (2/2)

Ship Name: Honeygloom (Halsin x Kazimir)

Spotify Playlist

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Dividers Used

[ashprince-of-bel-air]

The Bard and The Wizard

A/N: This is my first time writing an OC character so i am very nervous about it, any criticisms or gentle nudges would be appreciated and I hope you enjoy it! Hoping to make a few parts if people like it!

Summary: Jaenerys is a Drow, disowned by her family for wanting to be a bard rather than a Wizard, she makes her way to Baldurs Gate where she takes up employment in Sorcerer's Sundries as she tries to find work performing.

2.1k word count

Baldur’s Gate was everything that Jaenerys thought it would be, it was bright, bustling, and full of people, a far cry from her hometown where people where more conservative and didn’t interact further than a polite hello in the street. No, this was where Jaenerys wanted to be, where she had dreamed of being since she was a child, no longer living in the isolated home that her parents had chosen. Being a Drow woman, she was afforded many luxuries and a high station from her family, none of this is what Jaenerys wanted. She wanted to perform, to sing and entertain the masses and be adored for the joy she could bring people, not just for what she was born as below the surface.

Jaenerys was not raised in the Underdark like so many of her race, her parents attributing this as the reason why she was the way she was, kind and gentle. Her parents wanted her to be firm and powerful, to instil awe and fear into those that met her, much to their dismay no number of punishments or beatings would remove her kind nature. It was a beautiful midsummers day the day Jaenerys was disowned, a day she could remember all too vividly. Hers were a proud family that consisted of many an accomplished wizard, this was a dream they wanted for her. It was not to be so, as much as they pushed Jaenerys she was stubborn and pushed back, she was talented at magic, truly she was, however her heart was set upon music. Her fingers weaving the strings of the lute as one would channel magic in the air, her voice echoing in the air was its own type of spell, anybody that heard her was enthralled, practically drawn in as if she were a siren, though her parents would not admit that. They wanted to stick to tradition and were sure that this was a phase that would pass.

All the underlying emotion came to a head one night in the summer, it was an innocuous night of no consequence, a day that Jaenerys would look back upon and ponder on why her mother snapped that day. It had been a day like any other when Jaenerys came home and found her lute in tatters in her mother’s hand, her face distraught at the scene of such cruelty.

“It’s time you start living in the real world Jaenerys, I won’t have any more of this music nonsense in my house.” Her voice booming and seething with anger as she holds the broken lute up as a trophy, the broken neck of it sparked tears Jaenerys’ eyes, it was her one escape from the harsh world her family had created around her. “You need to do what is right Jaenerys and embrace the tradition of your house, you disrespect us with this pathetic music.” Her mothers voice laced with venom as she threw the lute down onto the floor, creating a sad echo from the broken strings as it clattered against the floor.

Her mother’s voice was curt and unforgiving, the tears spilled from Jaenerys’ eyes freely, she had always felt that she was an outsider, but this fully cemented it. Her family had never been supportive of her music, the beatings and verbal vitriol they spouted at her were nothing compared to what her mother had now done, she had destroyed the one thing that made her happy. Anger threatened to spill out, but she could not unleash it, Jaenerys would not stoop to their level and prove that she was just as bad as they were.

One deep breath is all she took, calming her inner rage at her mother.

“Fine.”

That was all that transpired between the two of them before Jaenerys turned away, she did not even bother to stay and collect her belongings, she would much rather busk and sing on the road and beg for money than be tied to her family that did not care for her at this point. Jaenerys was done with being a puppet to be used to further their station, she was not sure that her life would be better without them but it sure as hell could not be any worse, she did not care, all she wanted was freedom, the freedom to make her own choices and mistakes, of which she was sure she would make many.

With the clothes on her back and the small trinkets of jewellery that Jaenerys sold along the way she managed to make her way to Baldur’s Gate, it was a rough journey, not the comfort that she was used to but she just chalked it all up to “Character Building” and would make a note to make several songs and poems about her journeys to Baldur’s Gate and her life. True art came from pain and suffering is what she told herself and allowed her creativity to help her heal. All the music Jaenerys sung before this were hopeful and romantic, something little girls would listen and dream about, no, this new music was raw and full of passion, feeling herself mature and grow with each verse she created on the road. Though the road was rough and hard; Jaenerys had managed to sell a variety of trinkets and heirloom jewellery that she wore, she had no qualms about selling it, wanting to cut any and all ties that she had to her family. It all brought a decent amount of gold, enabling her to finance a room in a small inn in the city for a few weeks whilst she found a place to perform.

A few weeks pass with no joy for her, no place wanted to hire a Drow, “Racists arseholes” is what she muttered under her breath every time, she knew she was good, that she was better than what people thought when they saw the colour of her skin, she just needed a chance, . Time was ticking and the money from selling her heirlooms was running out now, she would need a job before long to keep paying for her lodging, an aspect that Jaenerys was dreading. She had never had a job before and was dreading it, her parents never allowed her to work in any capacity, claiming that it was peasant work, and she would not sully the family by doing such a thing. The fact she was a Drow did not help as well, she saw the way some people had looked at her in the streets, avoiding contact with her or looking at her as if she was a Lolth worshipper, this scared her even more, what person would want to hire her if the general public were so fearful and averse?  

Jaenerys applied for many jobs, receptionists, administrators, bookkeepers an even a barmaid. The first job she heard back from was from Sharress Caress as a barmaid. Jaenerys was not aware of the reputation of the so called “Tavern” that it claimed to be, attending the interview with enthusiasm, finally hopeful that someone would take a chance on her. It was not until she entered the building that she realised what it truly was, she could have forgiven a lot of what went off in the establishment until the man interviewing her told her that the role was for a lingerie barmaid. Jaenerys could feel her eyes go wide with disbelief as they said it so casually, remarking that the popularity of “The Drow Twins” made them think a Drow lingerie barmaid would attract even more business. It was a very quick refusal as she stood up and stormed out, she was desperate for a job but would not stoop so low and disregard her dignity for one. As luck would have it, the day after she declined the Role at Sharress Caress she was offered a placement at Sorcerer’s Sundries as a saleswoman and assistant, it was now under new management and needed to overhaul the way it was run. It felt too good to be true, but she would attend the viewing, nonetheless.

Sorcerer’s Sundries was a magnificent building, towering over its surroundings, blocking out the sun as a person stood in front of it. The magic flowed within the air as Jaenerys entered the building, her back tensed slightly, magic reminded her of her family and it was not a pleasant memory, yet she could make this work, she was good with magic and was sure that with her charisma and confidence she could at least make a few sales here, even despite the general public’s reaction to her, people who came her wanted knowledge and magic, they were not bothered who you were. Approaching the main desk Jaenerys looked around for an assistant or anyone for that matter, she wanted to know who she was meeting to discuss the role. An apparition appeared before her, startling her slightly before realising it was a mirror image, the slight sparkle and hum of it giving it away. It was an interesting and beautiful visage, a tall, lean Tiefling now stood before her, his voice deep yet she found it to be comforting. She stated her business, and it directed her to the tower, where she would await its master for further consultation.

The walk up to the tower was uneventful yet reassuring, for the first time in weeks Jaenerys had not been stared at or had been subject to a disgusted look by the public, it was a nice feeling, to feel like everyone else and that she belonged finally. The door to the wizards study was just a few steps away, nervous about the whole endeavour she stood there, palms now clammy as she tried to dry them against the sides of her robes, if she had to shake the wizards hand she did not want to give a bad impression, she wanted this, more than she would admit to herself. The door was hard against her soft knuckles as she rapt them against it, hoping she was not too quiet.

“Come in” A deep voice echoed from inside the room, the same one that she heard from the mirror image in the lobby, this did not make Jaenerys feel any better, she enjoyed the mirror images form but now to see it in the flesh, she hoped that her composure would remain in tact for this encounter. Slowly she opened the door and crossed through the room, coming to stand before a desk situated in the middle of it. As she stood there she saw a deep crimson Tiefling man, crouching over a stack of books, muttering curses to himself over how they were organised, stating that it was done with no rhyme or reason.

A deep annoyed sigh left his lips as he stood up, still glaring at the books. “I hope you have some good organisation skills because this is the first thing I want you to do.” His voice came out exasperated as her rolled his eyes at the stacks of books before him, his body shifted as his eyes came to rest on Jaenerys, he raked his eyes over her curiously, he was not expecting her to be so beautiful, her beauty would not serve him though, it was inconsequential in his mind, he wanted someone who could get the job done.

“Apologies. I’m Rolan, Master of Ramazith’s Tower.” His voice was like silk and almost caused Jaenerys to blush before him as he smiled and bowed politely, one hand placed over his chest as he did so. “I assume you are here for the job. If you have the patience to alphabetise this catalogue of books then it’s all yours” He waved his hand gesturing to the books that lay around him in the study. “And it isn’t just these ones either, I have a library that needs quite some looking after.”

Jaenerys saw the look on his face, it gave her the impression that many people had applied but then subsequently turned it down, seeing the workload that was laid before them. She was too stubborn for that and also need the money, not to mention she loved a good system of organisation, that was one trait her parents liked in her much to her chagrin. A bright and enthusiastic smile broke out on her face, making herself act like this was her calling in life, that all she had longed to do was organise a litany of books for the rest of her life. “When can I start, Master Rolan?”

[mithraeris]

Orin the Red and Minthara

These characters have very interesting parallels, especially since Orin is the one Minthara fears most. TW: trauma, murder etc.

Conversation after killing Orin if you've also spoken to Orin's mother

Player: You're nothing like Orin. Minthara: Oh, but I am. Given what we learned of her mother, I see how similar we truly are. We were both born of trauma, both raised by parents who protected us with one hand and tormented us with the other. What was I when you first knew me? Before you ever knew me? A madwoman, butchering prey in the name of a god who would discard me without a thought once I was no longer of use.

Bhaal, Lolth… the Absolute. They do not have followers - they only have victims, and they reward devotion with death.

It is only because of you that I did not meet the same fate as Orin. Lost to madness and blood.

======= Speak with dead on Orin's mother:

File description: Sarevok is both Orin's grandfather and father. Orin's mother was his favourite, and he wanted her to become the next Chosen. Ordering her to sacrifice Orin to Bhaal. Orin defended herself and instead killed her own mother and in turn became the Chosen.

Player: Why did you try to kill your own daughter? Orin's Mother Helena: I... wanted... to be... Bhaal's... Chosen...Sarevok... told me... she... must be... my... offering... I... was... close... my hand... around... her throat..I... failed...

======== Conversation with Minthara if you ask about her past

Minthara: I am a daughter of Menzoberranzan's most ancient and powerful House, the Baenre. I lived a life of privilege and danger. My home was at the tallest point of Qu'ellarz'orl, the Place of the Nobles, a plateau high above the city's sprawl.

I enjoyed every luxury, whether harvested in the Underdark or stolen from the surface, and I survived my first assassination attempt while I still suckled at my mother's breast. I tasted her blood that day. She covered my body with her own, and a blade bit deep into her chest, almost puncturing her heart. When I came of age, she tried to take my life herself, and I gave her fresh scars to match those she earned protecting me.

[dark-elf-writes]

The Dursleys would deserve whatever the party does.

Imagine little Harry learning music from Tav and how to use a sword from Lae’zel who finds herself healing a little from how she was taught in her childhood. Imagine Wyll, after someone figures out the prophecy because it’s Faerun and no doubt they’d run into some diviner or the such, carefully helping Harry learn to be more then just a hero like he had to learn to be more then a Duke’s son.

Jaheira smiling at the sight of Harry giggling as she thinks of her old friends. Halsin helping Harry with nature magic. Just… all of them working together to help raise this little boy.

Arabella before she leaves playing with Harry and pressing her ring into his hands.

(The Dream Visitor feels quieter now for some reason, Lily’s magic adding a layer of protection over them all. Family by blood and choice.)

They would. And their plans for the Dursleys get more and more involved as more of Harry’s previous life is found out. They are currently trying to convince Withers to keep bringing them back to life so they can keep murdering them over and over again. As time passes Withers is getting mrie and more willing to do so pro bono.

Harry with wide eyes and pure awe on his face the first time he hears Tav play the violin. Tav teaching him each night in camp, smiling as they see little fingers clumsily moving over the strings and not even wincing when the note devolves to a shriek when Harry loses proper form with the bow. (They didn’t realize how much they wanted this until they had it. Didn’t realize how much they had always wanted a child of their own that could grow happy and healthy away from the horrors of the Underdark)

Lae’zel feeling a warmth in her chest as Harry looks up at her with those wide green eyes, hanging off of her every word as she instructs him. He doesn’t cry when he is knocked down. She still makes sure to tend to any scrapes herself… just in case.

Wyll looking at this fated child (a future stolen before he was even born, bound by fate to sacrifice himself to end a monster — he sees the resemblance to stage even more) and deciding to teach him to spit in the face of fate. To hunt for every loophole he can. To live rather than die for the greater good.

(If Gale lingers a bit too close for those conversations Wyll doesn’t say anything. He knows he doesn’t need to.)

All of them sighing with fondness when Harry comes back with more and more wild pets (they should have expected it, really, after Tav brought back a dog and an owlbear) but the one that sticks closest to him is a beautiful snowy owl with far too intelligent eyes. If Halsin and Jaeira had t both interrogated her to make sure she wasn’t a Druid in disguise they would be more concerned.

Arabella feeling a bit of her grief ease as she plays with Harry. Feeling a bit more like herself rather than a wild thing with powers she doesn’t fully understand and untethered without her parents. It hurts more to leave, but she snakes sure to smile if only so Harry doesn’t cry.

Spoilers under the cut

God the Dream Visitor. They would have such a little hater in Harry after the end of Act Two. Particularly if Harry had been dragged into the chaos of the camp attack and saw Tav say they didn’t want it only for them to be “convinced” to take the space worm. Just a completely feral child who saw someone hurt their parent and no one seems to be doing anything about it.

(He doesn’t fully understand everything about the mindflayers and the parasites but what he does know is Tav looked scared in those last moments before they took the worm and he didn’t like it.)

Also the act three kidnapping who else could be taken other than Harry? And imagine just how feral Tav would get when their child is gone.

[anxietiefling]

essek as a child was a constant paradox. independent to a fault since he could do anything on his own, stubborn as a moorbounder, he would still climb into his mother’s lap as a toddler, whenever he felt tired enough to deem it necessary. entitled, they would say, with a sniff and a raised brow, unruly. misbehaved. but in truth, it was the knowledge that he could always come back to his mother and her arms and lap would be open for his comfort. the loss of it came later. or maybe it was only in that he told himself so often he started to believe it. deirta watches him, sees the walls pulled up high. if she is at fault then by not telling him, i do not mind what they say. let them talk and foam at the mouth. i always will be a home to you. her bright, brilliant, marvelous child, who told her and everyone in no uncertain terms who he was as soon as he could, disabusing them if any notions the gods may have had in his creation. it pains her, that her first thought had been „no yet, please let him be mine a little while longer“. it had pained her most when the time for anamnesis came and went, and he was already too far away to reach. when verin had been born, essek’s contrary nature had only increased; his hands held his brother with more care than anything, but his eyes betrayed the relief at another chance, another son to hope for, surely this time a vessel for a returning soul.

essek as a child would drive his tutors do despair, when he started reading the books they taught him from and pointed out their inaccuracies, which he would recount in great frustration leaning into his mother’s gentle hands while she brushed and braided his hair.

the way deirta loves is by keeping predators from her offspring, by baring her fangs. she has lived too many lives to not know how words, too, can be teeth and that some predators come with the finest of manners. her blood was made in the underdark. it feeds her heart, no matter which body she inherits. she will sink her fangs into that which threatens and she will tend and hold and sway what her body bears, a desire that is bone-deep and blood-old. in her darkest dreams she strangled leylas kryn with her own braids. she weeps after, holding her sister’s body close and following its fading warmth. other times, all she feels when she wakes is the deep satisfaction of a threat disposed of. but even in her mind, her son keeps his distance

[shamefilledsnzblog]

Meet the OCs!

So, here's my little crew for DnD snez fics! Precious little band of nerds who I absolutely adore already... (Also I cannot art to save myself, so pics are made in Heroforge)

Sir Peregrine "Perry" Merriweather

A human nobleman, born and raised in the main city of this setting, he's the youngest son in a noble family, and something of a disappointment. In a family of strong, brutish men who love hunting and fighting, he's a delicate, sickly scholar, with a gentle demeanor and allergies to just about everything. Despite being allergic to most of nature, he's fascinated by it, and has studied druidism for most of his life, particularly the circles relating to all things fungal. After a life of being a "gentleman druid", he's finally made up his mind to leave the city, and gone to pursue his studies in the Underdark. Never mind that he's fragile, and catches every cold going around, and every cold turns into a sinus or ear or chest infection, he's going to prove the worth of his studies (and hopefully himself...)

Janessa Brightburn

Janessa is a gnomish artificer who studied at the same university as Perry. Despite Janessa being from a very common, poor background, the two bonded over their curiosity and passion for learning, and became fast friends. Janessa is all intelligence, all enthusiasm, and no sense. She can tinker just about anything from nearly nothing, she knows the complete history of gnomish technology, and she has never once encountered a delicate and dangerous situation that she didn't immediately want to poke with a stick. Despite having no particular allergies and not being particularly prone to sickness, Janessa suffers a constantly stuffy, runny nose. She's not sure why, she just deals with it, and not usually in the most refined way. Her handkerchief is usually being used to contain a bunch of gadget parts, so she just wipes her nose on her hand or sleeve, or just disturbs everyone with a good satisfying snort. Plus, when she needs to sneeze, it tends to creep up on her while she's too distracted to cover. If she gets a cold, everyone around her is getting it too.

Talavin, Exile of House Zaurret

Raised in a brutal drow house as a shadow monk, Talavin was trained to be a lethal fighter, and to be constantly on edge, expecting to be killed by one of her more ambitious siblings in their rivalry over who might one day rule House Zaurret. Talavin fled her house, vowing to go her own way, and has spent much of her life since alone. Talavin was hired as a guide and protector by Perry and Janessa on their expedition into the Underdark. She's not hopeful about their chances of survival (and as a result, insisted on full payment upfront). She tries not to get attached, but they're just so... relentlessly kind? Talavin doesn't know what to do with kindness. The muscle of the party, Talavin is proud of her resilience and strength, and despises showing any weakness whatsoever. She insists she's never ill, and has no allergies (though she will admit, if absolutely forced and given no other option, that her dark-adapted drow eyes mean she's photic as hell). This is bound to go well for her. Really.

[psalacanthea]

wip whenever

lil preview of the next chapter of the new fic, an introduction to the city that will be one of the main characters of the story. The City of Eternal Night (found here on AO3) will update on Tuesday <3

In the distance the spires of the ruin once called En Zhareun did not gleam, faerie fire gone, crumbled onyx surfaces nothing but ominous silhouettes.  But the faerzress, the magic unique to the Underdark, was strong here even now.  She could see the signs of it, the faintly glowing splits in the cavern ceiling that had a purple-black hue, in the humid warmth of the air.  She could feel it in her bones, like the ache of an old fracture reminding her of its presence in advance of a storm.

It was offensive, to feel belonging in a place she despised so much.

When her mother’s House had been banished from Menzoberranzan they had been led here by Lolth, or so the story Mother had told claimed.  She wouldn’t doubt it.  But when their war of vengeance had failed, Lolth had turned her back on them without a thought, left them to ruin and death.  Failure was weakness to the Spider Queen, and she was never reluctant to consume her own.

But her Mother’s house had survived, and was even allowed back to Menzoberranzan…for a price.

Somewhere deep in these ruins was the House of Zhenafaen, where the bones of the ancient Matriarch and every daughter of the house lay, murdered, desecrated, unburied.  All but one.  Her three-times great grandmother, the sole survivor and traitor to her kin.  She slaughtered them all, to regain the favor of the goddess who turned her back on them.  Slaughtering your sons in sacrifice was to be expected, but your daughters?

Now House Zhenafaen, so reduced and humiliated,  was nothing but a lesser House futilely backstabbing and conniving under the feet of the Eight Great Houses of Menzoberranzan.  Rats vying for what scraps of power were handed down.  The paranoia of her own daughters turned every Matriarch of the House into a monster, and the current Matriarch, Zynatheri’s great grandmother Kiivashti, had lost her own heir and her heir’s heir.  Her first daughter Tyn’lunel had been killed the instant she’d borne the new First Daughter of the House, so that her younger sister could claim the glory of raising the heir.

 The Matriarch had overlooked the murder because her second daughter treated the heir so well, like a true daughter of her own.  And in a House so twisted by their own mistakes and hubris that they considered only the First Daughter worthy and true-blooded, what better role could a mere second daughter have?  Unfortunately for them, Zyn’s mother was a fickle, self-absorbed bitch who had abandoned her equally bitchy family to run off with a surface Drow adventurer she rescued from the Matriarch’s dungeons.

Objectively hilarious, in Zynatheri’s opinion, and the only smart thing her mother had ever done in her life.

Besides having her, obviously.