#tav eladrin

[spacebarbarianweird]

Omg hi!!! Love your Writting, could you make an Astarion x Eladrin! Reader please? It can be and fey eladrin or a celestial eladrin (tough i prefer the celestial ones). I'm surprised no one asked for an eladrin hc already, they're such dolls)

Hi! Eladrins are truly interesting. The difference between two types depends on what edition you play - before the 4th edition Eladrins were native to Arvandor, distant cousins to elves. Beginning with the 4th Edition, they're fey creatures from the Feywild.

As there is more relevant info about Fey Eladrin, I will write this HCs based on them but the difference between different types of Eladrin isn't really big.

Masterlist

Headcanons

Astarion x Eladrin!Tav

Your ancestors were casted away from Arvandor along with other elves but instead of going to Material Planes they chose Feywild as their home.

Many of your kind have slowly lost their humanoid form and allowing the wild magic of the Faierie to change them.

The seasons for you aren't times of the year, they are places you can visit and the form you can take.

When you are a Spring Eladrin, you sing and dance but so easily fall in love that you lose yourself.

When you are Summer, you are a stubborn fighter.

As Autumn you are kind and generous but to trustful.

But as Winter you are depressed and melancholic.

In trance you change your season like a dress and your change appearance as well.

It drives Astarion insane because you have four different personalities and four different skins.

Fey Eladrins and stability are complete opposites.

But at the same he is attracted to your wild magic, so alive and bustling, nothing like what his undead existence is.

You are also a gender fluid since sex and gender are too limitimg when defined.

Sometimes you feel like a man, sometimes like a woman, sometimes you are both, sometimes you are none.

The adventures on the Material Planes is just another fun experience for you since you are not intedning to stay there.

As for Astarion he doesn't truly knows what to do.

The Undead don't belong to Feywild, he can't go there with you and he isn't sure he wants all this fey madness.

Meanwhile the Material Plane is too exhausting, too stable, too bleak for you.

But you decide to stay.

To stay to get him the cure.

Astarion doesn't remember being alive, but you know how miserable he truly is.

Hunger. Cold. Pain.

There must be the way.

Astarion gets used to your changing nature. You just become a very complex person to him but luckily your pysical appearance betrays your mood change as well and he always knows which "you" he is going to deal with today.

You spend a century looking for ithe cure but nothing helps. It's just a ghost you keep searching for.

And the Material Plane is draining you, sometimes you are so week,you can't move for months, lying motionless in your trance and remembering the Feywild.

Astarion begs you to go.

He will be fine. This century was the the best time he ever hoped to have. He will remember you. He will cherish the memories of you.

But you have to part ways. He is an undead, he belongs to the Shadowplace and all what is dread. He will wander the roads for eternity as the creature of the dark. And you will live your long life in the magical place of fey wonders.

He will never forget you.

Beaides there isn't anyone like you, his tiny wild love.

You dissappear like a mist in the morning and he hopes you are happy in the magical feywild.

He keeps living

Hunting monsters .

Adebturing here and there.

Sometimes he makes griends, sometimes he takes lovers

But in his reverie he remembers only his eladrin of tje feywild the magical creature who gave him hope.

A century passes.

Lonely ten decades.

Astarion meditates and his meditation is so deep it is more like a real sleep.

He feels that something is beside him someone warm, someone familiar.

He wakes up and sees you.

You lie beside him in your atumn form warm like a lantern.

You break the silence and brush his cheek, making him sniff.

"I know how to cure you."

You spare Astarion of details, he doesn't need to know what price you paid.

A century of slavery. Of servitude. Of humilation.

A fey, powerful and cruel, shoved the cure up to your nose, bragging they have it and you don't.

A century. A terrible, difficult century with every day worse than another.

Losing your humanoid form. Being an ugly beast for a decade. Losing yoir mind and doing the most disgusting things for your master.

The feys are cruel when they know you need them.

The transformation is painful and long and you are afraid the fey bitch lied to you.

They didn't.

Astarion opens his eyes and they are emerald greem like Feywild woods.

It takes him time to adapt to his mortal body but it's much easier in Feywild than it would be in the Material Plane.

You don't know what the future holds for you two.

The elven nature is fluid and unpredictable.

But deep inside you know you have always meant to be together, you are thiramins, elven soulmates. Maybe, you knew each other in your past lives. Maybe you are both something new.

And you have centuries ahead to figure this out.

--

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96 @locallegume @brainfullofhotsauce @coffeeanddonutscafe @my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen

[n0ahsferatu]

I drew my Tav as all 11 playable bg3 species (plus a custom one :3) for fun and made a template for people who’d like to do the same thing! I thought it was a really fun character design exercise and I hope you enjoy it too!

(my Tav, Mordred!)

[thedomesticanthropologist]

Sivvus and Ears

I'm a big advocate for elves having very mobile ears that respond to their emotions. Perking up, drooping, one ear flicking/twitching when annoyed etc. So I headcanon that all elves can do this, and to some degree, half elves too.

People learning they can read an elf by de-coding ear movements just like you can read a tiefling by de-coding tail movements.

Sivvus is a Feywild-born Eladrin and was raised in a High Court of Fey, but because he's super restrained he trained himself to keep his ears at neutral position as much as possible. This contributes to people assuming he's really pompous, snooty, stuck up- because his ear position is always "neutral" and he gives very little away.

In Faerûn, where he finds himself absolutely nerfed by the tadpole and completely out of his element, away from everything he'd ever known, he tries desperately to keep his neutral veneer for as long as possible.

It then becomes very, very obvious whenever he slips. Think of it this way: a person who constantly emotes loudly? You don't really pay attention to their more subtle shifts. A person who tries to not emote at all? Any, ANY shift is like a giant air horn of attention.

So when his ears droop in disappointment or perk up in interest, against his will or without him noticing that he's emoting because he's so overwhelmed that he fails to keep track of his physical responses, his companions tend to find it incredibly noticeable (and maybe very endearing).

Sivvus thinking he's being Very Chill only to have Gale give him a sympathetic clap on the shoulder.

Sivvus thinking he's being Very Chill only to have Astarion chuckle at him and give him a sly look.

Sivvus thinking he's being Very Chill only to have Shadowheart suggest she take over so he can compose himself (scandalizing him immediately)

[thecoffeerain]

Mavollo

I'm updating my portraits for art fight, so have my Durge, Mavollo, from Baldurs Gate 3.

He's related tangentially to my first DND character Fraanic. Which makes Mavollo part Eladrin, part Drow, with draconic ancestry on top of... you know.

He's a bad lad, non-resistant durge, goes full slayer, take over the world, mad lad vibes. He's a bard/sorcerer and eventually specs into warlock late game. He's fully blind but used his violin plucking to sense presences and distances when he needed to. Since the worming he's found he can use other peoples worms to see around himself through their eyes and build a picture of his environments. This is what drives him to pursue becoming half-ilithid.

[zyana-wyvern]

Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild…

…for the worlds more full of weeping than you can understand.

[spell666ound]

Right on time... 🍃🪷

uncensored: bluesky | twitter

[aesfocus]

Season's of Tav'leatea

[yslandfrog]

Hall of My Dnd Characters + bg3 tavs

[talesofthedice]

Got bored and made Enigma and Zoran’s twin sons in BG3. Vadon (left) and Eirian (right). Half drow, half eladrin

[theavengerfairy]

Kiori - “The Wandering Flame”

1 of 3

“Kiori is originally from a village in the Feywild. Her village highly revered a particular Archfey, Ethaera, almost like a goddess. Unfortunately, this made them the targets for the Shadowdwellers, a pair of Archfey siblings who despise Ethaera. The Shadowdwellers had their own devotees attack the village in Ethaera’s absence, and the assault resulted in everyone being killed or captured. Kiori was one of those left to die from her wounds, but before she could take her final breath, Ethaera returned and nursed her back to health. Once she was strong enough, Kiori made a pact with Ethaera, the archfey becoming her patron in exchange for Kiori agreeing to not only restore her village but bring down the Shadowdwellers’ followers. This mission brought her to the Material Plane where the remaining members of her village, including her younger sister, had been scattered after having their memories wiped. However, it was during this quest that she was abducted and infected with her tadpole, making her already difficult mission that much more complicated.”

(Notes: While I had to make her a High Elf based upon the mechanics of the game, Kiori is meant to be an Eladrin.)

(I saw this trend on the clock app and decided I wanted to add to it.)

[thedomesticanthropologist]

Gale: "Well! That was QUITE the day." Stretching, joints snapping and cracking like rice crispies

"I am GREATLY looking forward to some rest."

Sivvus: "Indeed. Let us settle in."

**all goes well for precisely 4.5 hours**

"Let us continue. Wizard. Human. Gale. Gale. GALE."

The crust of sleep in Gales eyes glue them nearly shut as he cracks out a jaw breaking yawn before anxiety kicks in and he jolts upright with a groan,

"What?! What's wrong?! MINDFLAYERS?" only to see Sivvus standing over him, pupil-less black eyes shining in the dim light of the dying fire, fully dressed with his backpack on.

"No, you overslept. We must move on. Come."

"....." Gale stares at the moon above, the camp, the fire, and scratches at his head and beard in a self soothing, confused sleepiness. His heart rate begins to settle

"Sivvus... it's not morning yet. While I appreciate your enthusiasm for our quest at hand, We can pack up at first light."

"I thought ceremorphosis was 'to be avoided'. Shall we not press on?"

"..... If I don't get my eight hours, you'll have worse things coming to you than tentacles bursting out of your flesh. You know what's to be avoided? Hmm? An underslept archwizard."

Amazingly, Gale won that one, and Sivvus began to learn the trials and tribulations of being part of a team with diverse needs.

[silkendandelion]

Two Drow From Sembia

A Baldur's Gate 3 fanfiction, a story of two Tavs (ongoing, series), ao3 link

Pairings (Eventual): Tav Dayedan x Astarion (M/M), Tav Badril x Shadowheart (M/F) Genre: Fantasy, adventure, humor, drama, eventual fluff and romance Words: 3.2k

Rating Teen and Up Audiences for graphic descriptions of violence, mild blood and gore, mature language. Rating subject to change, published per chapter.

Summary: For the last 50 years, Dayedan Vernal, an Eladrin artificer from Sembia, has traveled Faerun looking for unique materials. The last 10 of those years have been beside his hired bodyguard, Badril Lightward: a drow with sun-kissed skin and black hands, who introduced himself as the Chosen of Lathander. After months of walking and multiple dead-end leads, they had only been in Baldur’s Gate for less than a day when the Nautiloid attacked.

AN:. The title is a joke from the groupchat, Day is constantly mistaken for a drow and he's quite chuffed about it

Likes and reblogs are, as always, welcome and please enjoy 💙

Chapter 1 (below)

~*~

Journal Updated: The Sembian Artificer

Muffled, incoherent shouting rouses the elf, barely, unable to be understood beyond the cotton in his ears. He manages to push beyond the ice-pick ache threatening to split his skull, enough to open his eyes and see Badril on the other side of the greasy, smeared glass of the mindflayer pod.

The drow’s angular face is stricken, white ponytail falling off his crown, and panic written in the pull of his frown after hours of fruitless searching for his friend. Black hands, dark and smooth as obsidian glass, swipe the sides of the pod, seeking a switch or lever.

“He—help… Badril,” Dayedan called weakly, hands pawing the glass in response. His bag is gone, he can only feel himself inside the humid, sweltering pod when Badril’s shape disappears. The beginnings of dread rise in him, bile creeping up his throat, ready to spew the next time he tried to shout. For 10 years, the darkness had kept quiet, banished by the dawn’s favorite, who was just here—

“Don’t leave me!” His fists bang on the glass, again, again, lungs wrested for breath, when—CRACK—he screams, terrified enough to halt his panting when black hands slam into the glass. Clawed, un-bloodied fingers punched clean through in ten jagged holes.

Those monstrous hands are too familiar, the pride of a warrior monk, soot-black nearly up to the elbow, so prone to be found spinning a cooking spit or picking his lute that Dayedan often forgets their divine purpose is to kill. They are the hands of his most trusted bodyguard and friend, who with frightening ease flays the entire front off the pod in one screeching, fleshy rip.

He falls with no more support into Badril’s arms and the drow grabs his jaw, turning his face back and forth to better examine his fragile state.

“Are you all right? Does your head hurt?”

“Bloody pounding,” he huffed. “How did you know?”

Badril tilted him, one thick arm tight around his waist until he could stand proper. “Then they’ve infected you already... I’m sorry, my friend.”

“Did they get you too?”

“No.”

“Then, how did you—”

He held up a wet hand—soaked with gore, Dayedan relays to his queasy stomach—silencing him before the artificer could spiral, as he was prone to do, or worse: over-analyze their situation into a stupor that neither healed him nor helped them both to escape.

“Hear me now: you were grabbed because you wandered off,” he chided with emphasis and Dayedan’s ears wilted, shoulders flinching.

“In order to follow you, I allowed myself to be captured. They could not get me into a pod.”

Dayedan watched him flick the blood off his hands, silvery and congealing as it joined the streaks running from the nearby door. Mind you, a door that hung savaged and drooping from the rest of the wall, as mangled as his pod. He recalled Badril’s words from their travels, how Lathander’s most faithful are sworn enemies of the evil, undead and soulless... Suddenly, he had only one more question.

“Are you going to put me down?”

“No,” was his simple reply.

“But I’m going to become a monster,” Dayedan insisted, yet Badril ushered him to get moving, one hand on his arm and the other pointing towards the door (the flesh ribbons), their only exit.

“You are not a monster yet, so until then you are my friend.”

As Dayedan’s headache persisted, the acuate pain flaring from what he deduced was the tadpole making itself bloody comfortable against his frontal lobe, an ache only negligibly reduced by the adrenaline of waking up on an actual, real, stinking, fucking Mindflayer ship—he had no mind to argue.

“Let’s get the hells out of here.”

~*~

“Where is it? Where IS it?” Dayedan picked through the belongings of other kidnapped victims, tossing away things he decided to be useless and absently slipping loose gold coins in his pockets.

“Don’t make so much noise,” Badril replied from where he observed the pod at the center of the room, and the transformed body inside.

“I’m allowed to panic, I think, that bag is the most valuable thing I own.”

“Your soul?” The drow said while studying the runes across the attached control panel. Surely, he wondered, one of them must be able to kill the thing. The soulless, tentacled monster scratching clawed hands down the glass, who moments ago was a human woman, and even fewer moments ago had her screams mangled as the bones in her neck twisted, tongue useless as her teeth fell from her jaw down to the feet of her coffin.

His metacarpals ached with the restraint to not rip the pod open and perform his best imitation of the transformation on the finished creature, piece by piece.

“It’s not here, come on. What are you staring at—egh.” Dayedan appeared beside his shoulder, recoiling. “Kill the thing, already.”

“To release it is a danger to you, even for a moment.”

“Then—scoot over.” He elbowed Badril but the enormous drow didn’t move until he meant to, staying close while Dayedan pulled his goggles down off his black, wavy hair. The multiple lenses lay stacked, flush in various colors of rainbow glass until he flipped them into the proper orientation with a practiced flick of his fingertips.

‘Identify,’ was the key word as he hovered his hands above the console.

“The thing about scientists is: we’re predictable. Our needs our simple, complex only to those who don’t know us, and we cannot continue our work if we are dead. Therefore, everything dangerous we make needs the capacity to be destroyed.”

His analysis allowed him to decipher the functions of the buttons on the console, a cruel smirk sliding over his lips when his hand depressed a command for ‘annihilate’, and the console hummed to life. The decontamination took mere seconds, unmaking the Mindflayer in a wash of goo that only didn’t slide out over the floor because of the pod’s tight seal. Nearby tubing glugged, slurping the remains to wherever the unlucky went. Or lucky, depending on who was asked.

“I’m sure that’s not what they intended that button for.”

“Doesn’t change how good it felt, or—ah!” Dayedan cried out, brought down by a sudden wound to his ankle, forced to lean on the console.

His attacker, an intellect devourer, stood a pace away, clicking angrily and swiping the air with it’s claws (a warning—shouldn’t warnings be given first?), feelers spread wide to give the illusion of a greater height and weight.

“You little—” Dayedan raised his foot to stomp the creature flat before Badril grabbed his good ankle and flung him away, landing on his back with a dull ‘thud’.

“Don’t hurt them!”

“EXCUSE me?” He coughed at how hard he twisted his vocal cords for that one. Nothing could have prepared him to be literally thrown by his bodyguard, or for the excuse to be Dayedan had tried to swiftly—but violently—squish the creature that bled him.

“You frightened them, I think. Using the machine, possessing a tadpole. They don’t understand you didn’t mean to attack me next.”

“Why are we psychoanalyzing the bloody thing?! I’m bleeding, that shit hurt!”

“I am sorry. I will heal you, but I couldn’t allow you to hurt my friend.”

That’s it. He must have actually died in the pod, and this was his asinine excuse for an afterlife: attempting to escape the situation that felled him, complete with Badril saying the most outrageous things with a straight face. Then again, he’s always done so—but not about aberrations, that one was new.

“Am I high? Or did you really say it’s your friend?” Dayedan said from where he lay, leaning up to watch the little brain scuttle behind Badril’s leg, nails clicking on the metal floor—and did the thing just hiss at him?

“I freed them from a damaged skull. They are grateful.” Badril knelt beside them, the tiny creature, and offered his finger for a bit of affection. The brain quivered, seemingly in delight, one of it’s feelers reaching up to coil around his first knuckle. A handshake, maybe? Or perhaps it was better to be interpreted the way a cat undulates against the ankles of a person it trusts.

‘You are our friend—you saved Us. That is our name.’

“He can’t hear you, brain. He doesn’t have a wriggler.” Dayedan tapped the side of his head.

“They can speak to you? Through the parasite?” Badril said as he reached to stroke the creature’s damp cerebellum, watching it shiver, feet tip-tapping happily, likely as close to feline excitement as they were capable.

Dayedan pulled his lips in an off-kilter pout, displeased he was beginning to find the fleshy, pointy, slimy creature adorable. Those weren’t deal-breakers, not at all, he was actually partial to less-than-fluffy and off-putting beasts with propensities for a good pet—but the only other intellect devourers on this ship had all tried to kill him. Some suspicion was warranted.

“They want to be called Us.”

“Us? So it shall be, little friend. Us.”

“Hm.” Dayedan huffed, nose in the air. “Let’s keep moving, we must be getting close to—something. Some way to drive this thing? Hopefully it has enough power to get us back to Baldur’s Gate.”

The moment Dayedan showed them his back, he allowed himself an almost-smile, hearing Badril’s encouraging “Let’s go, Us”, and the happy skittering of claws.

~*~

They didn’t have to wander far along the ship’s halls before they came to open air, with nearly one entire room of the ship eviscerated and gaping strips of fragmented flesh. Their lungs stung, suddenly smothered with the hot belches of sulfur-tinged ash rising from the Blood War beneath them.

Gods, they were in Avernus.

“Perhaps I was being optimistic,” said Dayedan.

“You?”

His tadpole twinged when he tried to roll his eyes. “We have to hope this ship can get us back to Toril in the state it’s in.”

But Badril didn’t answer him, dashing forward to meet a blur of chartreuse and the screech of the woman’s silver sword as it was blocked by the flat of his hand.

“A Githyanki? This really just gets worse.” Dayedan blanched, reflexively fingering the golden cuff on his left arm.

“You recognize the instrument of your demise? More than I should ask for—unh,” the woman staggered back, struck by the hammer in her skull of her tadpole communing with Dayedan. Memories rush passed, shared but hardly understood, except that the men before her were not actually thralls.

Yet she did not holster her sword, the arms barring her like unwavering mountain rock when she surged forward again. “I will not concede, so long as your friend remains in his stance.”

Dayedan waited behind him, ready and hardly willing to move or dim the spell circle in his palm. “You first, Githyanki warrior.”

“Dayedan, do not be obstinate,” Badril scolded him.

“He does not appear to take orders from you.” A cruel smirk slid over her speckled cheeks, teeth bared as she pushed—faltering when he did not move.

“His safety is my responsibility. Think about what that means for you.”

The streak of a red dragon near the broken maw of the ship shook the soft, unsteady floor beneath them, whipping the air into a hurricane. Their stalemate was broken by Lae’zel losing her footing, and Badril’s wide palm shooting out to protect her from toppling over the jagged edge.

“I don’t have a tadpole, so I don’t know what either of you saw, but I know we are more likely to survive together.”

Lae’zel swatted his hand away, leaving the hand un-perforated in her version of gratitude, though to her horror the drow seemed gently amused at her batting him. “On that, we agree… If your magical charge is willing to cooperate.”

“The magical charge just wants to find his bag and hopefully survive this ordeal. I care little about how we get there.” Dayedan crossed his arms.

“I’ve never fought alongside a Githyanki,” Badril smiled. Even standing in Avernus on a Nautiloid could not hinder his personality, and Lae’zel made a mortifying grunt—one she would never admit to—when his big paw shot out to shake her hand. She considered stabbing his palm anyway, her grace could only persist so long under a steadily shrinking measure of tolerance.

“Do try not to be—too pathetic about it, and don’t fall behind!” She stammered while yanking her hand back, not completely unlike a cat’s paw stuck on a bit of flannel.

“Get moving,” she huffed at both of them.

~*~

“The helm should not be far,” Lae’zel surveyed the next room for an exit, refusing to regard the pods dotted around the room with more than indifference.

“Wait.” Badril held up his palm. “Listen.”

Dayedan’s ears perked up to focus his hearing, before pointing to the pod along the wall. “There.”

“We don’t have time for stragglers—” Both elves shushed her, to her chagrin that was beginning to nudge up alongside homicidal rage.

‘Get me out of this damn thing! Please!’ A woman’s voice shouted quietly, muffled by the thick glass of the container, her fists barely making quiet thumps as she pounded with what looked like all her strength.

“I can get this open, it’ll only take a moment—” Dayedan pulled down his goggles just to be outmaneuvered by the splintering snap of glass shattering, of flesh ripped apart as Badril shredded the front of the pod off.

“Or he can do that.”

The woman inside fell into Badril’s arms, too exhausted to protest until her bearings came back to her. She stared up at him, the white hair falling free from his hair leather, the dusky brown of his skin what spoke of an under-dweller touched by the sun.

“You’re—a drow?” She smothered her embarrassment with a pissy frown, pushing at his chest to both be released and dust off the links of her armor. Dayedan appeared by Badril’s head.

“Two drow?” She scoffed, and spied Lae’zel standing off to the side, arms crossed and wearing a much pissier frown.

“A… peculiar little company,” she decided, with all the barest restraint to not say “horrendous” instead.

“Hang on, I’m not a drow!”, declared Dayedan. “Lae’zel was right, we have no time for stragglers.”

“Don’t mind those two. Are you hurt?” said Badril, faithfully sitting by her side.

“I’m all right, nothing a little healing spell can’t—” She tried to flinch away as his obsidian hands began to glow, ghosting over her knuckles until the bones stopped aching and the cuts sealed, dried blood beginning to fleck away.

“A cleric? As am I: Shadowheart.”

“Badril. Don’t mind them, really. Lae’zel and Dayedan. They’re both terrible at meeting people, even if we’ve already had this talk about needing allies to leave this realm.”

His tone spoke of scolding, as did his hard golden eyes, but both companions only gave their own “tch” and “chk” to express their reluctant acquiescence.

“Oh, and that’s Us.” He pointed to the Intellect Devourer following them, sniffing (did they have noses?) at Shadowheart’s boot, and not deterred at all by her startled gasp.

“… A most peculiar company, indeed.” She winced, wondering if perhaps being rescued had been a mistake.

~*~

Us bounced on their little clawed feet, feelers waving wildly as they shouted into the telepathic connection. ‘The helm, the helm! In here!’

“The helm is beyond that door,” Shadowheart translated.

“Then be prepared for a fight,” said Badril, more ominously than he meant to when his words were punctuated by the cracks of his knuckles in his fists.

“Oh Gods, I don’t want to fight,” Dayedan groaned, his long ears pinning back in moderate annoyance.

“By all means,” Shadowheart raised her eyebrow at him. “Do let them know, so we can sit down to tea and sandwiches instead.”

“You little—” Their imminent volatile clash became a near-miss when Badril grabbed Dayedan’s face, specifically ignoring his yelp of panic when he realized those hands had yet to be washed free of Mindflayer ooze.

“Think clearly, you foolish scientist. Your bag could be in there.”

Dayedan blinked at him. “… Oh,” he said, the wires visibly connecting in his eyes, amber bulbs on strings behind his lenses spelling “Motivation Acquired” with all the fanfare of an oath renewed.

“I’m ready.”

~*~

On the far side of the helm’s chamber, a set of controls, mounted to both the ceiling and floor, waved where the tendrils to determine their destination and speed flung about, unattached.

A lone Mindflayer noticed their entry, though they could hardly turn his back from the cambion general swinging his burning sword with the intent to cleave them in two.

“You: thralls. Leave the devil to me. Connect the transponder, so we may leave this realm.”

Lae’zel spoke to their entire little group. “Do as it says. We can deal with the ghaik once we have escaped.”

But of course, Dayedan didn’t have his ears on, instead consumed wholly by a table halfway across the room, loosely populated by various runes, a few brain jars—and his bag of holding. Badril knew to act fast, even if the ladies were unfamiliar with the peculiarities of their temporary companions.

‘Patience,’ came his ringing voice, and a single rune on his cuff began to glow, the same white glow that slid around his thumb and into his palm, materializing into a golden revolver with a silver hammer, it’s long barrel and wide grip carved with the forests of the Feywild in chased murals.

“Dayedan, don’t—” Shadowheart’s protest was cut off by Badril bodily snatching her up to dash away, only moment’s before the artificer flicked back the hammer, the pistol glowing momentarily before it fired off a volatile, exploding shot in the cambion’s face. Two more shots, two more tiny, powerful blasts, and Lae’zel was at Badril’s side to complain.

“Is he insane?!”

“No, he’s just—he’s REALLY protective of his bag, here—take her.” Badril handed off Shadowheart and the two woman scowled at each other before scrambling wide steps apart, wiping their hands on their armor.

“You idiots, do you have any idea how many man hours went into this bag? You—” Dayedan fired off one more shot, downing a stray imp as he walked over to the table to snatch his property and arrange it safely over his shoulder.

“Enough!” Badril waved to him. “We need to—” The ship lurched to one side, threatening to knock them off their feet. From across the control room, Badril could see Lae’zel on the controls, clearly unimpressed with their tactical priorities, and Shadowheart taking out her flustered frustration at being carried like a princess out on the intellect devourer beneath her boot.

The second jerk of the ship was hard enough to send them all flying to one side of the control room, and Badril reached out to snatch Dayedan to him by the strap on his precious bag.

He shouted over the alarms and crashing of the cambions into various equipment, the rest of the imps clinging their feet to the walls of the ship. “Don’t tense—!”

“Are we going to die?!” Dayedan shouted back.

He clamped a big hand over his mouth. “We’re going to crash! Don’t tense your body!”

“Mmfrr!!” He heard the artificer cry against his hand as he tucked him under his chin.

Alas, blackness and silence would come before any impact they might have expected. Soft and beguiling, like the double-edged reward of divine intervention.

[zyana-wyvern]

Lvarin, Lord of Spring Twilight

Idunn's fae "patron", protector and tormentor, Lvarin dwells deep within the Feywild plane, in a lone manor, within light and darkness, between dawn and dusk.

Exiled from the Spring Court, he is ancient and strange but also terribly bored and weary of the eons he has seen. He seeks novelty, sensations and feelings, and deep down he is fascinated by mortality and mortals and their beauty and tragedy.

Tar Nordho, the Elven realm Idunn grew up in, borders the Feywild and its residents have always worked with the Fae. Lvarin saw in Idunn a novelty, but also potential, due to her human blood. He had always been there, at the border between dreams and reality, and when she needed a more questionable type of help, she turned to him. He ensnared her into a contract of sorts, that fell quite short on her side, leading her to be a willing prisoner in the Feywild for years.

He has been stuck in his fiery, vengeful Summer Phase for quite a while, unable to let go ancient grudges and broken ambitions.

More on Fey Eladrin: Fey eladrin | Forgotten Realms Wiki | Fandom

[coreechi]

Here, have another from my warm-up sketches.

[arinemone]

Anyway so i love bard and i will never play any other class ever period

(the second image is older so i was down a level compared to image 1 so Dont Look At Me Ok)

[spacebarbarianweird]

Astarion Headcanons

Masterlist

Inbox is open for requests.

General Headcanons

Settling Down together after the game events

Bigger Tav x Astarion

Nightmares

Astarion makes a wedding dress for Tav

Astarion having sensitive ears

Dancing Headcanon

Ressurected Astarion Part 1

Ressurected Astarion Part 2

Astarion's twin brother

Widower Astarion

Tav is a cat owner

Astarion Can Purr Headcanons

Astarion x Big-Breasted Tav

Astarion and you are going to the Lliira's Night Festival

Astarion Pre-vampirism HCs

Astariox x Big\Soft tummied Tav

Taking care of their sick partner

Unromanced Astarion

SA victim Tav

M!Tav CSA victim

Dadstarion Headcanons

Boy Dad Astarion

Pregnant Tav

Astarion has a kid with Gnome!Tav

Astarion's half-elf daughter

Batstarion Headcanons

Batstarion

Batstarion is learning how to fly

Giving bath to Batstarion

NSFW Headcanons

Astarion x Big-Breasted Tav NSFW

Astarion x Small-Breasted Tav NSFW

Bigger Tav x Astarion NSFW

Batstarion Naughty Headcanons

Astarion x Tiefling!Tav (NSFW)

Astarion x Wizard!Tav NSFW

Astarion x Rogue!Tav NSFW

Astarion x Drow!Tav NSFW

Astarion x Changeling!Tav NSFW

Astarion x f!Gnome!Tav NSFW

Astarion x Tav With Health Related Conditions

Astarion x Autistic!Tav

Astarion x Blind!Tav

Astarion x Chronic Pain!Tav

Astarion x Mute Tav

Astarion x Tav Who Has to Cover Her Face

Astarion x Depressed!Tav

Astarion x Anxiety Disorder!Tav

Astarion x Chronically ill !Tav

Astarion x Deaf!Tav

Tiefling Tav with Ehlers-Danlos syndrome Astarion x Tav with Raunaud Syndrome

Astarion x Tav with Auditory Processing Disorder

Astarion x Custom Race!Tav Headcanons

Astarion x Tiefling!Tav

Astarion x Mephistopheles!Tiefling!Tav

Astarion x Dragonborn!Tav

Astarion x High Elf! Tav

Astarion x Gnome!Tav

Astarion x Dhampir!Tav

Astarion x f!Drow!Tav

Astarion x m!Drow!Tav

Astarion x Drider!Tav

Astarion x Half-Orc!Tav

Astarion x Wood Elf!Tav

Astarion x Curvy F!Human Tav

Astarion x Werewolf!Tav

Astarion x Changeling!Tav p.1

Astarion x Changeling!Tav p.2

Astarion x Changeling!Tav p.3

Astarion x Protector Aasimar!Tav

Astarion x Scourge Aasiamar!Tav

Astarion x Fallen Aasimar!Tav

Astarion x Eladrin!Tav

Astarion x Gur!Tav

Astarion x Fire Genasi Tav

Astarion x Custom Class!Tav Headcanons

Astarion x Barbarian!Tav

Astarion x Wizard!Tav

Astarion x Bard!Tav

Astarion x Druid!Tav

Astarion x Spore Circle Druid!Tav

Astarion x Ranger!Tav

Astarion x Drakewarden!Tav (Ranger subclass)

Astarion x Cleric of Selûne! Tav

Astarion x Cleric of Latander!Tav

Astarion x Cleric of Bahamuth!Tav

Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Astarion x Monk!Tav

Astarion x Draconic Bloodline Sorcerer!Tav

Astarion x Shadow Sorcerer!Tav

Astarion x Blood Hunter!Tav

Astarion x Archfey Warlock!Tav (Patron Niitra Siotta)

Astarion x The Great Old One Warlock!Tav (Patron Zargon)

Astarion x Fighter!Tav

Astarion x Paladin of Ilmater!Tav

Astarion x Artificer!Tav

Astarion x Custom Background!Tav Headcanons

Astarion x Noble!Tav

Astarion x Noble Elf!Tav

Astarion x Pirate!Tav

Astarion x Feylost!Tav

Astarion x Durge

Astarion x Redeemed Durge

Astarion x Evil Durge