#tiefling slander

[keegansakura]

Listen. If you almost died to the parties fighter for trying to talk him out of storming Castle Ravenloft because he would have been slaughtered instantly and got snapped at by the rogue for trying to tell him that NO. THEY ARENT INTO YOU.

You would join Strahd and kill the party too.

Jesus Christ Lysander.. but the fact she made that choice after dinner at the castle which ended in a one night stand- I- ... Listen here you BITCH-

AND THAT WAS JUST ARC 1 FOR HER

[bridoesotherjunk]

Genuinely I am so sick of people playing BG3 and commenting like ""Oh it's so dumb that Wyll is uncomfortable at the Tiefling party because of his horns -- all the tieflings have horns too""

I disagree completely.

Wyll's uncomfortable because he has horns NOW and did not have them the last time he saw those tieflings. Literally most of them know him BY NAME. He's uncomfortable because he doesn't want to have to answer the same question over and over and over again to these people that he knows, has worked with, and has helped teach.

If you've ever lost a job or had something bad happen to you, it makes sense. You don't want to go to a big event right after it happened because you KNOW everyone will be asking you about that bad event. And you don't want to deal with it!!!

That was me after my dog passed away last year. I knew people were being understanding and trying to be comforting, but I didn't want to keep telling people that he fucking died over and over again!! It was upsetting!!! It just kept re-opening the wound!

I feel like that is why Wyll is upset at the tiefling party and I am so tired of everyone making fun of him for it.

It's a very real reaction.

[randomfanner]

It crushes me how much Gale Slander there is.

I know a bug made him horny and clingy but in my current play through Gale and Blanche(what I named my Tav) are bros and I have found it easy to avoid romancing him.

And how can you dislike Gale for being a bit pushy and hitting on you when literally EVERYONE HITS ON YOU!!! At the Tiefling Party, if you have medium approval with anyone you can start romancing them and they all want you to god dammit.

But if you actually romance Gale, he is pretty damn shy and hesitant. You can think you want to kiss him and he doesn't just kiss you, he is just stunned. He is not trying to jump right into a romance with you! He can get pretty forward once you, the player, have shown interest in actually romancing him. (Like when he says you are hot when you fight)

A lot of people dislike Gale for talking about Mystra when he is trying to romance you but we have to remember: Mystra means so much more to Gale than just being his ex-lover. Gale worshipped Mystra as his goddess before, during and afterwards their relationship. Mystra is magic, the literal goddess of what he ties all of his self worth too. I will admit I am biased towards Gale because I am the same way about my grades, and for Gale, the Goddess magic and the embodiment of his art took an interest in him and made him his chosen.

When he lost the favor of Mystra, he lost everything he had worked so hard for in his life. Was it partly his own fault? Yes, he fucked around and found out. However I genuinely think if Gale had only been Mystra's Chosen rather then Mystra's Lover, he wouldn't have.

Mystra approached Gale and from how we see Gale act when he is trying to seduce Tav, he didn't make the first move romantically either. Mystra had a lot of power over Gale and I don't blame Gale for wanting to become the equal of the woman he loved.

Of course the problem arises because she is a Goddess and he is a Mortal Man who is overly ambitious. But I do not think the bases of what he wanted was too much to ask for.

Maybe I am giving Gale too much credit, I mean, look at how he reacts to the Crown and oh I do sigh at that. But his reasons are very complex for wanting the crown more then just power.

And the magic items. It is three magic items and you get so many thrown at you during this game. Not all of them are good for every run. An uncommon magic item is like what, 33gp?

When Gale actually comes to you about it too, it is either after you have shown you are a good person who likes to help people and he feels he can trust you to help him with the bomb in his chest that could wipe out a city. Or the alternative is he literally has to come talking to you lest he actually, literally explode and you are the person who is in charge. Yes he gets angry when you refuse but man has good reason, everyone's life is at stake!

Does he give you all the details? No! But the only people who tell you everything at this damn camp are Lae'zel and Karlach! Literally no one tells you ja

There are plenty of reasons to not like Gale. Gale is my favorite but I do see how parts of him, like how he can be sort of a classist asshole about magic(I do not think he intends to be and I think that is Gale's ~Touch of the Tism~ showing and being mixed with self worth issues)

Gale is such a genuinely sweet guy. He values life and people and magic. He may be over the top and get in over his head way to easily just wants to be at home with his cat and a good book and I am so sick of all the slander towards my boy.

[aldryrththerainbowheart]

My thoughtsabout Baldur's Gate 3 after 50 hours of playthrough

Love that this game gives you not only class and race dialogue options but SUBCLASS dialogue options too

Enjoy playing as a paladin no problems with oath-breaking whatsoever, everybody rolling eyes at my do-goody ass

especially playing as oath of the ancients is like "in the name of trees and lakes and birds - fuck you"

made a shocking discovery that romancing companions is truly secondary and I'm just happy to survive

Astarion tolerates me and I'm afraid there's no hope for me in this playthrough but honestly, I don't really care I just want my boy safe and cared for, whether as a partner or just a friend is truly secondary

he's even more cat-coded than I thought

kind of glad he won't propose to me at the party because we legit know each other for FOUR DAYS! Like- Sir!

Lae'zel is amazing, wonderful, and showstopping wtf is people's problem with her. She's rude? Please. She's a product of her environment. As far as Githyanki go she's the nicest of them all. I won't let anyone slander her on my watch.

Gale is a bit of an intellectual snob but he's a wizard so that's part of the package. I actually enjoy his ramblings, I could listen to him for hours. maybe I'm the weird one in that

During the goblin fight, I fell into a spider pit while casting a spell and running forward. Spend the rest of the fight plastered on the wall so the spiders won't notice me. The rest of my party had to search the entire temple for the key to get me out. Truly a full dnd experience at its finest.

Love reading the books just as much as I enjoy it in Genshin.

As cheesy as it is I love playing the hero.

I bend backward to save everyone, and it makes me really happy to keep as many people as possible alive. Yes, even Kagha, even hag spawns, even tiefling children.

I love all my companions equally but Astarion gets all the jewelry.

[spyridonya]

Prevention

Fandom: Wrath of the Righteous Rating: Teen-Mature Pairing: Kadira (OC) x Raphael ( @jean-dieu's OC) Words: 1776 Trigger Warnings: Unintentional footplay and light kink. Summary: Why shouldn’t The Eternal Rose send care for her Sunflower’s best? 

Many Crusaders claim that all Tieflings look alike, though that isn't true.

The common slander shared among most newly arrived in Mendev and the Crusades is that all Tieflings look alike. It absolutely wasn’t true. This was a fact that wasn’t tucked away in Kadira’s mind to be sprung upon her with the blinding realization she couldn’t remember how she knew this: Kadee knew it because she experienced it. 

The commander witnessed it in the scant days after Deskari had laid ruin to Kenabras, with eyes upon her warily—exhaustion, anger, and fear etched into their gazes. Such emotions were not an excuse in her mind; it was simply a cause for her treatment. It happened rarely now, now that the Fifth Crusade had begun and Drezen was taken and she was given the title of Knight Commander.

But sometimes, some people did look at her like any old tiefling. 

Tieflings were like snowflakes, notably so in the aftermath of a century of demons roaming the land. Color, horns, tails, skin color, and more—it was luck of the draw with demon-blooded Tieflings where asymmetry was common among them.

Even Hellspawn were unique to one another despite the similarities among them: the uncanny symmetry, the tendency for various shades of red skin and dark hair, pointed tails, and startling gold to yellow eyes were incredibly common—even if Kadira didn’t entirely match each feature, she did with many. Knowledge of these features had come from somewhere, but she never chased after that thought beyond looking at herself in the occasional mirror as a girl.

Until Raphael, all Tieflings Kadira had met were Pitborn. The variety of colors, horns, tails, and features that weren’t quite balanced in varying degrees were common for obvious reasons.

Then she met Raphael. Understanding that he was different from other Tieflings she had known came right away beyond the gold and white of his clothing, mimicking the rarely seen white clouds and triumphant sun. His features were balanced and regal and his golden eyes were like fire, radiating the demand for justice and order. His fur and skin were a brilliant shade of red compared to her own deeper hues of skin and the black fur on her lower legs, though their hooves were similar enough.

They got along well. Though at first glance, it might not have been surprising—those who worshiped one member of the Prismatic Ray often got along with those who worshiped the other goddesses. It was likely because of that, that Kadira showed an uncharacteristic openness to Raphael despite her misgivings toward Inquisitors.

Raphael was firmer in his opinions about justice than Kadira was with her religion, though she admired his devotion. Kadira kept her own religious beliefs close to her heart, revealing them only when necessary—during moments of granting mercy or delivering justice. She assumed he admired how she concealed her compassion within pragmatic and reasoned logic.

Still, there were times Raphael’s devotion surprised her, even though her education had taught her better. Sarenrae had been harsh once and still held a standard for redemption that was difficult to attain. Sarenrae and her followers took up arms when measured compassion and redemption might not be possible without greater loss, and Kadira strived to understand that. Raphael grasped the concept far better then she ever could, endearing him to Sarenrae in his quest to defeat evil fueled by righteous anger.

Yet, there was no sadism in Raphael’s eyes. At worst, if there was any sadism, the Inquisitor directed it toward himself. Often, Kadira wondered if it stemmed from Raphael simply being a tiefling.

Regardless, she likes him—in that amorphous way of hers that she refused to pin down. There’s no time for such reflection, and while she knew Shelyn would not appreciate that lack of introspection, Kadira liked to think her goddess understood why.  Caring for other is good, it’s an expression of love. 

And Kadira attempted to demonstrate her affection in the best way she knew how— by taking care of others. Like when it occurred to her that Raphael also had hooves on a cold, wet late summer day during their march toward Drezen.

"Stay still," the command wasn't harsh when it left Kadira's mouth, but it was firm, despite the intimate setting of Kadira’s tent. A woman on her haunches before a handsome man might raise eyebrows if one couldn’t see the forest for the trees. For the most part, her compatriots had their eyes on the forest. 

Besides, Kadira wanted to spare the Inquisitor any potential embarrassment. Trimming and applying a proactive coat of oil on his hooves might lead to unwelcome attention or mockery in public.

Raphael stared down at her, his expression firm, his mouth set, and his tail lashed slowly behind him. Kadira knew that body language varied among tieflings; but the only time she recalled her own tail moving like that was when she was angry or frustrated. Taking a deep breath, she looked up at the other tiefling with a puzzled expression. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

He shook his head, tousled locks of dark, shaggy hair moving in an almost endearing manner. "Are you sure this is alright?" Raphael asked, his voice rough to be mistaken for anger, if Kadira hadn’t known that he was seeking assurance. 

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"Utterly," Kadira promised, her smile soft and gentle as she tipped her head down to focus on her brush. The bristles moved slowly from just under Raphael’s thicker fur where it met the hardness of his hoof in a soothing manner. "Olive and sunflower oil are absolutely safe on hooves, and Shelyn's grace knows you need it." She noticed Raphael’s foot twitched and hear his tail lash suddenly as it hit the floor with a dull thud before he managed to hold it still. “Did I… did I say something wrong?”

His candle-like eyes momentarily widened, but his stoic expression swiftly returned. "No, this just seems like an... indulgence."

"Oh?" She asked, carefully stroking along the edges of his hoof, trying to avoid the sensitive flesh. “Is preventing a cracked hoof in the middle of acidic snow an indulgence? Or is it prevention?”

“If Sarenrae’s will deems it necessary for such an injury during my duties, then I would simply endure it,” he countered, his voice a touch raspy, as Kadira’s brush began to trace the edge of his hoof.

Kadira huffed despite the smile on her face, holding her answer for a moment as she firmly held Raphael’s foot. She glided the brush carefully along the inside of his hoof, aware that the flesh there could be sensitive despite possible calluses. She was prepared for the flinch of his muscular leg as the brush grazed his skin by mistake. “But I’m here with plenty of sunflower oil for more than one tiefling.” She looked up, beaming at him. “Shelyn provided for me when I found sunflower patches along our route. She wants to make sure her beloved Sunflower doesn’t lose a good soldier.”

Raphael met her sky blue gaze with his fiery gold before he swallowed and looked away, his tail lashing even faster this time. “A point well made.”

“It is,” Kadira said without false bravado as she absently stroked down his shin, placing his foot on a towel beneath them. “I don’t mind being seen as vain... I’d be puzzled because I have so little to be vain about, but I don’t mind. It’s all about health, you know.” She continued her careful brushing over his other hoof. “This is all protection from the elements out here. That’s why I’m teaching you this.” She looked up earnestly. “What would I do if I lost my only Sarenite?”

Did Raphael swallow? Or was the oil brush tickling him? "Commander, you needn’t worry about such things. I’m capable enough as a healer as I am a warrior. I should be protecting you."

"Fine, we’ll call it prevention," she informed him, the brush gliding slowly over the black surface of his hoof as she massaged his tense calf. “And prevention is a far better cure than treatment.” She noticed a shiver—was it from the brush or something else? The next stroke over his hoof was more delicate, the bristles curling to the edge and up the inner walls.

The insides of his foot should be massaged with oil too, Kadira thought. The cold was likely to make the skin crack in the coming days, and that could lead to infection. However, judging by Raphael's tail, if she attempted to do it, it was just going to agitate him.

She placed his hoof on the towel and dipped the brush into the oil jar before standing up. "Can I trust you to stay here until the oil soaks in? Anevia probably knew you’d be here before you did, so she’ll make sure no one disturbs you."

Kadira watched as the Sarenite's shoulders rose and then fell. "Yes," he replied, his tail quivering, the lashing present but slower than before.

She beamed. “Will you put some oil on the skin on the bottom of your hoof?” she asked, her voice stern.

“Yes.” Raphael’s jaw twitched, and he leaned over to pick up the jar despite the clear annoyance in his voice.

“Good boy,” Kadira praised, her voice softer than usual before she felt an odd compulsion. She leaned forward, gently placing her hands on Raphael’s shoulders and brushed a kiss over the soft fur of his forehead.

The gesture was intended to be motherly, yet Raphael drew out a sigh. Annoyance, she supposed, and well earned annoyance at that. Kadira didn't ask—it wasn't the time. "Sorry," she apologized suddenly, "I just... felt that. You sounded… You honestly did well, Raphael."

There was a not-quite-a-smile on his face. "That's all right, truly, Kadira. I'll be fine and back to my prayers soon."

"I won't do it again," she promised, noticing the not-quite-a-smile had faded. Maybe it was never there in the first place? “I mean, if you need help with your hooves or anything. I enjoy taking care of you,” she clarified. “There's tea in the pot if you want some, and if Tiger wants a lap, you better give it to him.”

“Y-yes,” Raphael replied. “I’ll have tea at least.”

“Excellent,” she beamed once more. “I’ll see you at dinner. It’s been a challenging day, but the company should be comforting.” With that, she bowed, carefully stepping on the carpet and reeds as she left her tent. “See you then.”

The flap was long closed before Raphael's whispered prayer for mercy escaped his lips.

[grailfinders]

Grailfinders #324: Jacques de Molay

ayyyyy its time to get spooky! at long last the Halloween events have returned, and they’ve returned with three new servants! we here at Grailfinders are, of course, going in servant ID order, so first on the chopping block is the disgraced crusader Jacques de Molay! they started off as a holy knight, but ever since their fall they’ve been tainted by lies and slander, so while they start off semi-holy as a Death Cleric they fall pretty fast as a Fiend Warlock by the end of the build. basically they’re kind of a discount, evil paladin, which fits nicely!

check out her build breakdown below the cut, or her character sheet over here!

next up: I'm pretty sure I can't include a picture on the next one without getting banned.

ancestry & background

obv jacques is a human, buuuut her final form is a grey-skinned humanoid with glowy eyes and horns, so why would we miss this chance to go tiefling? specifically we’re going with the glasya tiefling variant so eventually your Legacy of Malbolge (mispronounced to your liking) will give you access to disguise self, and then you can look human that way! right now, it just gives you Minor Illusion. you also get Hellish Resistance against fire damage, as well as Darkvision to clown on those dumb “human” knights. you also get +2 Dexterity and +1 Wisdom thanks to Tasha’s trivializing ancestry differences.

you’re not a good Acolyte, but you’re definitely an acolyte, so you still get Insight and Religion proficiency all the same.

Ability Scores

we’re starting off as a cleric so your Wisdom needs to be pretty good, at least for now. after that, your Dexterity- you’re uh. you’re not partial to armor. (though I would accept an argument that your first ascension has light armor on, but that’s still mostly dexterity based.) third up is Charisma- this will be better later, but if you had high charisma before you died, you probably wouldn’t have died. your Constitution is above average since you were a knight and all, but that means your Intelligence isn’t that high. you’ve got the megane look, but we just don’t need it for the build. finally, we’re dumping Strength. you’ve got actual knights for heavy lifting now.

Class Levels

1. Cleric 1: starting off as a cleric nets you Wisdom and Charisma proficiency as well as History and Medicine, warrior monk and all that. starting off as a Death cleric specifically gives you proficiency with martial weapons, so you get your sword and shield right off the bat! you’re also a Reaper now, so you can learn an extra necromancy cantrip like Sapping Sting- it deals a little damage and knocks people over! I mean, you’re not winning any shoving contested rolls any time soon, might as well turn to magic, right?

oh right, you can also learn and prepare Spells as part and parcel of being a cleric by using your Wisdom. since you can swap spells out each day we won’t be super in-depth about which ones you learn when, but we’ll point out the cooler ones to look at each level.

first though, your regular cantrips! Guidance and Resistance are subtle, but powerful- a great excuse to not do anything yourself! also grab Sacred Flame or something to attack people while your dexterity isn’t high enough to reliably use your sword.

as for your first level spells, you get False Life and Ray of Sickness for free, but there’s plenty of other spells to look into too. Shield of Faith is a pretty good alternative for mage armor at the moment, giving you or an allied creature +2 AC for up to ten minutes, concentration pending. it’s no shroud of turin, but it’s not like you used the real thing either, right? Bane is our very first curse, reducing a group of creature’s checks for a while if they fail their saves. also, Ceremony is the closest we can come to your “turn everyone evil” technique for now, although it only reveals a creature’s original alignment, not a new one. I guess the dedication ceremony could technically count?

2. Cleric 2: second level clerics can Channel Divinity in one of two ways once per short rest- Turn Undead (boo hiss) forces wisdom saves on every undead creature in the area, making them run away for a minute, or until they take damage. good for when you have to clear a room, I guess. the death clerics have a CD with some oomph though- your Touch of Death lets you make a necrotic smite dealing up to 25 extra necrotic damage in a single hit as you level up.

3. Cleric 3: third level clerics get second level spells, but you also get a free copy of Disguise Self from your Legacy of Malbolge. once a day you can look like any humanoid you like, though physical inspection can turn up discrepancies. luckily, as long as you aren’t getting headpats regularly “you, but human” is a pretty safe option.

as for your second level spells, Blindness/Deafness is a fun curse to throw around, as is Ray of Enfeeblement, and both will always be on your spell list! the heavy hitter this level has to be Spiritual Weapon though- you can make a big floating weapon and use bonus actions to move it around and hit people- essentially, it’s your very first summonable knight. I know those knights are mostly just part of your Noble Phantasm animation, but if Stheno can get knights, so can you.

4. Cleric 4: normally we’d use your first Ability Score Improvement on raw stats to improve your offense or shore up some weakness (y’know, improving an ability score), but right now our most pressing issue is getting the War Caster feat. sure, it gives you advantage on concentration checks and makes shield of faith a much better defensive spell. sure, you can cast inflict wounds as a reaction now, but the most important part is you can cast somatic-based spells while both your hands are full with a sword and shield! most DMs probably won’t care too much, but really every part of this feat is super useful for us as an IKEA paladin.

to celebrate the occasion, you can cast Thaumaturgy now. really sets the mood for a dark mass, you know?

5. Cleric 5: fifth level clerics can Destroy Undead of CR ½ or lower when they turn them successfully, which actually makes it even worse for our purposes, since this is also the level they can cast third level spells like Animate Dead. it makes skeletons and zombies- either creating one or reasserting dominance over up to three per casting. you can command one or more of them as a bonus action each turn, but they’ll only listen to you for the first 24 hours after you cast or recast the spell on them.

you can also cast Invisibility once a day thanks to your legacy- it’s not in character but it is useful!

as for other spells to look out for, Bestow Curse does just about any negative thing you want it to- if you’re going to be evil, it will help out a lot. I’d also grab Speak with Dead so you can really connect with your undead minions, and Spirit Shroud for a creepier ambiance next time you stab someone.

6. Cleric 6: at level six you can channel divinity twice a short rest, and you have an Inescapable Destruction about you that makes your divinity impossible to resist! literally- it prevents the necrotic damage your spells and CD do from being resisted. now you can beat up aasimars with your (currently) 17 additional points of necrotic damage per attack!

7. Cleric 7: seventh level clerics get fourth level spells. your freebies are Blight which is cool, it doesn’t really specify how the target got dehydrated, and Death Ward. it’s not quite the invincibility we want for your shroud ability, but it’s less dying which is useful. I’d also grab Guardian of Faith so you can get a whole knight instead of just a sword, and Divination because you’re still god’s specialest little princess, probably.

8. Cleric 8: eighth level clerics get another ASI, and its about time we start thinking about getting evil. the Flames of Phlegethos are as hard to spell as they are useful, increasing your Charisma by one while also letting you re-roll ones on fire damage from spells. you’re not all that fire-and-brimstone, but it’s a nice touch. even better, after casting a fire spell, you can cover yourself in an evil aura for a round, causing you to glow and counterattack anyone stupid enough to hit you with a melee attack. like. she’s on fire. of course you’re going to burn your hand.

additionally, your Divine Strike adds a bit of necrotic damage to your first weapon attack you hit each turn. you’re kind of a paladin, so now you have a low-level smite, go nuts. (also destroy undead works on CR one creatures now but hush)

9. Cleric 9: ninth level clerics get fifth level spells. Cloudkill is probably the closest thing to your NP if we’re going by the animation, but it can be pretty finicky. it’s strong, but a good gust of wind will destroy it pretty fast. your other freebie is the real prize- with Antilife Shell you finally have a shroud of turin to protect your team with, at least against melee enemies. it keeps anything that isn’t undead or a construct away from you, but you also can’t move them through the barrier or it breaks as well. thankfully most of your party by weight is undead at this point, so it shouldn’t be too much of a hassle.

that being said I’d also grab Flame Strike for a more consistent NP attack and Hallow- we can’t turn people evil, but at least we can turn everything else evil!

10. Cleric 10: tenth level clerics get one more cantrip, so now you can Toll the Dead to deal some ranged damage, especially if you kick people while they’re down. I guess this is your scarf thing?

also, you can get some Divine Intervention, if Shub-Niggurath is feeling benevolent that day. as an action you try to get your god to help out, and if you roll a 10 or lower on a d100, it works. if it worked, you can use it again in a week, otherwise you just have to wait a day. dang, I wish worshipping the devil worked like that irl too.

11. Warlock 1: okay, time to break out the goats. as a Fiend warlock you have access to the Dark One’s Blessing- whenever you reduce a hostile creature to 0 HP, you get temporary HP as a little kickback for sending a soul his way.

you also get Pact Magic, which you cast using your Charisma. you get a different set of spell slots that recharge on short rests, though you can use warlock slots for cleric spells or vice versa. also, when you pick your warlock spells you’re stuck with them until you level up again, so we’ll be more hands-on this time.

grab Eldritch Blast and Mind Sliver for some casterball-ish cantrips, as well as Arms of Hadar to finally make some tentacles to slap people with, and Charm Person to get started with seduction.

12. Warlock 2: at second level warlocks get Eldritch Invocations, ways for you to customize your fall into madness and depravity. Armor of Shadows will give you mage armor whenever you want, so you can finally wear that cute backless dress you’ve been meaning to! Beguiling Influence gives you proficiency in Deception and Persuasion- I bet you thought I forgot to pick those up at the start, didn’t you?

also, you can Hex people now, mostly because we needed a warlock-based curse option for stuff later. now you can deal extra necrotic damage to creatures you attack! annoyingly, this is not affected by your cleric features!

13. Warlock 3: at level three you can summon a cute lil goat man thanks to your Pact of the Chain giving you free uses of find familiar. also you can hit people with the ol’ Crown of Madness to make them turn on everything they knew and loved before. I guess we can make people evil after all!

14. Warlock 4: at fourth level we get another ASI, so bump up that Charisma for stronger spells! now it’s time to ascend for a better weapon- with Shadow Blade your sword can be upgraded to deal psychic damage, and if you throw it you can summon it back as a bonus action! plus- since this is making a weapon, and not directly attacking someone with a spell, you can add all your fun cleric abilities too!

15. Warlock 5: fifth level warlocks get their best boon to their knight corps(e), the third level spell Summon Lesser Demons, letting you drag up to eight demons knights to the material plane to fight! they’re hostile to literally everything, so good luck controlling them though. good thing you know Hallow!

you also know a Maddening Hex now, so whenever you hex someone you can deal psychic damage to them, as well as everyone else around them, as a bonus action with no save!

16. Warlock 6: at sixth level, you have the Dark One’s Own Luck- once a short rest you can add a d10 to any check or save. things always go the villain’s way, at least until the third act. also you can cast Tongues now to understand every spoken language and be understood in turn. I know this is more of a holy sort of effect, but it’s still super useful when you’re evil.

17. Warlock 7: at level seven you get fourth level spells like Shadow of Moil to give you a more thematically appropriate evil aura. for up to a minute after casting the spell, you’re surrounded by darkness that heavily obscures you, giving you resistance to radiant damage and another kind of counterattack. the worst part about turning to evil is all the other paladins suddenly have a problem with you “living”, and “drawing breath”, and “corrupting the innocent”. such a hassle.

18. Warlock 8: one last ASI, so use it wisely. I mean, use it charismatically. it’s for Charisma. you can also cast Raulothim’s Psychic Lance now! I know yours is more of a literal lance, but it doesn’t hurt to try.

19. Warlock 9: our final spell of the build is Negative Energy Flood, taking your NP’s animation a bit too literally, but at least it’s a single target attack again. when you hit a living creature with it you’ll force a constitution save against your spell, dealing 5d12 necrotic damage on a failure, or half on a success. furthermore, a creature killed by this spell becomes an uncontrolled zombie the next turn, going after whatever is closest. if you target an undead, they’ll gain 5d12 temporary HP instead, so your generals will be more protected.

you also get one last invocation, and with Whispers of the Grave you can cast speak with dead at will to really get to know your potential recruits better.

20. Warlock 10: finally, a tenth level fiendlock has Fiendish Resilience, letting you pick a damage type each short rest to gain resistance to it, as long as its not from magical or silvered weapons. that’s why we’ve still got shadow of moil for the paladins. you also get the cantrip Chill Touch, I guess. reach out and touch somebody, with gross skeleton hands.

Pros & Cons:

Pros:

you might not have the unlimited power of a sorlock, but having warlock slots to burn on Animate Dead means you can keep a huge army in check for relatively little cost- even just one short rest a day can supply you with fourteen extra bodies to fight with!

it’s honestly super refreshing to see a spellcaster with a shield. that, plus your healing from fighting and your various ways to resist incoming damage, make you a longer-lived spellcaster than most. having an AC of 18 thanks to mage armor plus two good saves in the big three, plus up to two resistances will help you eat any stray attacks coming your way.

most stories like treating demons as major threats, locking ways to deal with them behind quests and such, so being able to draw demons out for your own benefit can be pretty dang useful in certain situations. unless your playing something like curse of strahd, calling on the forces of evil is usually out of left field enough that whatever you’re fighting won’t have many defenses against it.

Cons:

on the opposite side of that coin, most campaigns assume you’re good. I would consider myself pretty open-minded, but I would have reservations about helping someone walking around with an undead army, I’m just saying.

your undead army can also easily be blasted apart by aoe spells, like the kind your cleric half brings to the table which make up your strongest firepower for most of the build. one wrong move, and suddenly you’re starting from scratch again.

we’re using a lot of different ability scores in this build, so you’re all over the place statwise. I would’ve loved to get more swordplay in, but we had to spend points on two different spellcasting stats, leaving you without a single maxed stat, plus lower constitution than I’m entirely comfortable with a gish having. still, doing a little of everything tends to be the most useful path forward, just ask bards.

[thetavolution]

for Paloma and Vaira

pre-relationship 5.What would their lives be like if they had never met? 7.How do their friends and family feel about them as a couple?

general 14.What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise? 15.What is their most common argument about?

love 1.Who said "I love you" first, and what was the situation? 14.Who is more protective? Who would get into a fight to defend the other? Who tends to the other's wounds?

domestic life 10.Who is more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning? 13.Do they have any "couple traditions", or family traditions?

Thank you for sending this my way!

It's from this post.

PALOMA

Love Interest: Halsin

5. What would their lives be like if they had never met?

Paloma may have never lifted the Shadow Curse simply because of the role Halsin plays in it. If Halsin never met her, he might not lift the curse and he might lose the Grove.

Halsin most likely would have kept living his life as is, drowned in even more guilt and grief. Paloma would still be cautious around potential love interests. She'd still be a single mom.

7. How do their friends and family feel about them as a couple?

Paloma is an orphan who really has no contact with the orphanage she grew up in. All she has left are her children and younger sister, Lamia.

Paloma's children love Halsin, naturally. It doesn't take them long to call him "dad" or "daddy." Lamia doesn't trust him at first but only because she's protective of her family. Over time, she likes the guy and teases him like she would an older brother.

Halsin's family has passed, but he still has the tieflings and the orphans. The orphans would happily embrace Paloma as a mother figure and Paloma's children would be easily accepted, too.

14. What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?

15. What is their most common argument about?

Paloma's need to do everything and her bossiness. Halsin needs her to delegate more and trust him to do things, especially when it comes to the children.

Halsin normally likes it when she's bossy, but there's a time and place for it. They've argued over Halsin downplaying his trauma before, or sometimes he goes off into nature without remembering to give Paloma a heads up.

Overall, however, they mostly just get into small couple arguments. Usually just those moments where you briefly get annoyed with each other, but quickly get over it.

Paloma also really needs Halsin to not forget to clean his dishes so often. He gets distracted on that front a lot.

1. Who said "I love you" first, and what was the situation?

Paloma said it first. Her heart felt as if it might beat right through her chest, but she said it. Halsin would take that as "permission" to say it back.

After the life Halsin's lived, I don't think "I love you" has been a common phrase for him for a long time. He finally feels free to say it again whenever he wants. He's more of a love in action rather than word person. Paloma does both.

14. Who is more protective? Who would get into a fight to defend the other? Who tends to the other's wounds?

They're both protective in their own ways. On the battlefield, they keep an eye on each other, and are quick to heal each other first.

Paloma is quicker to want revenge on Halsin's behalf. He'll barely get a scratch and she's trying to kill whoever did it. Halsin is usually set off when Paloma is seriously injured.

Paloma also becomes protective of Halsin when she realizes how often his feelings are discarded by others. Halsin tries to guard her from further pain and he's quick to defend her from any slander.

If Paloma's ex-lover (and father of her children) comes back into the picture, may the Oak Father have mercy on him because Halsin sure won't.

10. Who is more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning?

They're both early risers with kids to take care of. On the rare occasions they can sleep in, it depends. Sometimes it's Paloma that makes Halsin get back into bed and sometimes he's the one that gets her back into bed.

On a lazy rainy day, Halsin will make sure she's cozy so she can sleep in and take care of the kids before coming back to bed himself.

13. Do they have any "couple traditions", or family traditions?

On rainy days, they do have a tradition of staying in and just having a family togetherness day. They make a warming meal while Halsin or Paloma read to the whole family.

They would also have regular camping trips out in the woods as a family. Halsin would take the lead teaching the children how to survive in the wild by themselves. He and Paloma would also let the kids have "solo camping trips." In reality, they'd be nearby to give the kids space and independence, but be ready to jump in if they're in danger.

Birthdays are a huge celebration in the Silverbough-Silkflower home.

Last but not least, Halsin and Paloma are careful to make sure they always have at least one night a week for themselves and their relationship.

VAIRA

Love Interest: Gale

5. What would their lives be like if they had never met?

She would still fight back against Vlaakith if she still was tadpoled, especially if she met Lae'zel. She just wouldn't have Gale to support her through it.

If Gale wasn't around to ask her to marry him, she would have followed Lae'zel into battle against Vlaakith. She would never end up staying in Faerûn, which I believe she needs to truly grow as a person.

Gale would have never gotten out of that damn rock.

7. How do their friends and family feel about them as a couple?

Morena and Tara would be thrilled that Gale found love. Morena is an intelligent woman who anticipates some culture shock with her new daughter-in-law and happily guides her through it.

Vaira would be lovingly accepted into the Dekarios family. Tara would be happy there is another lap to sleep in. I think Morena would want grandchildren.

Vaira's family dynamic is a bit different just because of how gith are hatched. She has Lae'zel as her honorary sister. Lae'zel already loves and respects Gale by the time he's in a relationship with Vaira.

Vaira's varsh, Ja’adoc, is like a father to her. He isn't a big fan of Gale at first, but just because he's a human. Couldn't Vaira find a gith to fall for? In the end, Ja’adoc warms up to him and eventually comes to love him, even if he'll never say it. Gale knows though.

14. What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?

15. What is their most common argument about?

Gale's ego and ambition. Gale has learned from the events in BG3, but he still thirsts for power in unhealthy ways. He will make plans that involve overstepping boundaries or taking things too far. He eventually sees reason, but they definitely argue about it first.

There are also plenty of arguments that stem from Vaira doing things the githyanki way. Mostly when she's being a little too brutal in training students, or when she's coming across as a little too heartless. She's still undoing a lot of toxic indoctrination and Gale is the first in line to challenge her thought process.

They do argue over Mystra, but not because Gale dated her in the past. It's typically religious/magic arguments because Gale is still very religious. He's on better terms with Mystra, but Vaira is still not her biggest fan. Mystra, on the other hand, couldn't care less about Vaira.

1. Who said "I love you" first, and what was the situation?

Gale. Of course it was Gale. He says it that night they shared under the stars, giving Vaira the courage to eventually say it back.

14. Who is more protective? Who would get into a fight to defend the other? Who tends to the other's wounds?

They're pretty equal on that front. Vaira would slay anyone who harms Gale and Gale would incinerate someone on Vaira's behalf. They would both heal and take care of one another.

They would just have different ways of going about it. Vaira is more upfront in her aggression while Gale will threaten you with a smile.

10. Who is more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning?

Gale would do the convincing. Vaira normally gets up at the crack of dawn. Gale would talk her into coming back to bed. You know he loves his beauty rest and sleeps in.

13. Do they have any "couple traditions", or family traditions?

Vaira doesn't have any family traditions, but she is happy to follow a lot of the Dekarios traditions. This includes a weekly tea with Morena.

Gale and Vaira also have a day set aside once a week for a date night. They go out more often than that, but one night is The Date Night. No matter how busy they are, they'd move mountains to make sure they keep date night.

They start going on regular vacations so that Gale can show Vaira more of Toril, and so that he can also find more magical research. Sometimes that vacation is just a once a month day trip just due to busy schedules.

At the end of the year, they host a dinner for their students at Blackstaff that is cooked by Gale.

They do partake in Gods' Day, especially since its important to Gale.

[oh-hey-its-blue]

Break of Dawn, Chapter 3 (Astarion x Tiefling! Tav)

A/N: I wanted to experiment writing chapters from Astarion's perspective, so that's what this is. Featuring Astarion's awesome flirting skills and vague Gale slander.

Warnings: Brief flashback scene with Cazabitch but nothing too graphic.

WC: 4k

Astarion could not believe his good fortune.

To be fair, he would’ve thought a day spent somewhere besides the palace or someone else’s bed without the threat of a whip to the back would’ve been paradise, but this? This was beyond anything he had dared to hope for.

Which was funny, considering how his day had started.

It was the same as always: woken from a weak trance he had been lucky enough to earn by the tapping of his master’s staff. He had rolled out of his bunk and bent his head as Cazador gave his orders. Ten people by sunrise, no preference for age or sex, but he’d receive something by way of a reward if he found someone blonde. Astarion never questioned his master’s tastes. Success meant dinner, failure meant pain. He had agreed because he had no other option.

Cazador had gripped his chin in a frigid hand, tilting Astarion’s head back until he was forced to meet his master’s eyes. A small smile had crossed his face while he examined Astarion, a cruel sort of fondness in his gaze.

“Your brother fell short of my expectations,” he had drawled in a voice like a breeze through a crypt. “And I have no desire to punish another of my children tonight.” One thin eyebrow had raised. “You won’t disappoint me, will you?”

“No, master.” 

The smile twitched up slightly.

“For your sake, I should hope so.”

Cazador had bent and pressed a kiss against Astarion’s hairline, and it took everything he had to suppress the shudder that almost wracked his body. As Cazador straightened, the grip around his chin suddenly tightened, and Astarion caught a glimpse of what he knew to be the beginnings of Cazador’s irritation.                 

“I gave you the privilege to rest, my child. It is well past nightfall now. Did you not think I would want you ready by sunset?”      

“I’m sorry, master, I—"

A squeeze against his throat and Astarion’s voice had choked off.

“You have taken advantage of my generosity. Perform well tonight, and perhaps I will overlook this slight.” Cazador had given him a long, slow blink. “I told you ten for tonight?”

Astarion nodded, knowing better than to speak. Cazador’s smile split into a full grin, fangs curved over pale lips.

“Bring me fifteen.”

Astarion had dressed as best he could, doing his best to hide the ache deep in his bones and the familiar dagger pain in his stomach. He had passed the kennels on the way out and ignored Petras’s howls from inside. Petras had failed. Astarion would not.

He had walked the halls so many times that he barely registered the servants stalking the passages, fists clenched tightly around their brooms and rags, eyes turned down in permanent subjugation. His thoughts swirled in a spiral of his own mental chastising. He knew better than to oversleep, knew better than to push his master’s limits. Now he was paying the price. Fifteen before the sun came up was near impossible, but it was nothing he hadn’t managed before. Astarion had grit his teeth. He wouldn’t fail.

He was so distracted that he had nearly collided with Dalyria. Astarion hissed and sidestepped her.

“Watch where you’re going,” he had growled at her. Dalyria had just huffed and continued the way he had come from, he caught the faint scent of blood as she passed. He paused and turned back to watch her go.

“You ate?” he called. Dalyria had stopped and tilted her head back.

“I brought the master one of the hunters from the Gur camp. I was rewarded.”                                                                                                      

Astarion’s stomach rumbled at the mere mention of a meal.        

“With what?” 

Dalyria had blinked, and Astarion caught a glimpse of pity. Maybe a bit of guilt.         

“A rabbit.

Astarion could hardly believe it. Two hundred years and he’d never gotten a rabbit. Dalyria flinched as Astarion couldn’t even bother to hide his rage.

“Perhaps if you’re quick tonight, you will be rewarded, too.”

Astarion said nothing as he slipped away. He couldn’t fail now. Not if rabbits were on the table. He’d bring Cazador all the blondes on the Sword Coast if he had to.   

The lamplit streets of Baldur’s Gate were familiar to Astarion as he slinked down the paths to his usual haunts in the Lower City. Yousen had nearly been flayed alive a few nights prior when he’d brought back the son of a wealthy patriar by accident, so the Upper City was currently off limits. That meant seedy bars and sweaty hands ruining his already patched-together clothing, but at least the people there wouldn’t be missed. He could already feel himself going through the motions: drawing his back up straight, fixing his hair, digging roach legs out from between his teeth and wiping the dirt from his skin. Tonight, he was a charming magistrate from the Upper City looking for a pretty commoner to bring back to his estate. Confident, sultry, put-together. For his sake, he hoped he found someone who bought it.

Astarion passed the Elfsong and noticed it was busy but decided against finding a mark there. He’d gone to that tavern the last few nights he’d been sent out and had no desire to draw suspicion, even if the patrons there were usually of a higher class than those that frequented the less popular bars in the city. Instead, Astarion’s feet brought up to the Blushing Mermaid. He wasn’t fond of the sailors and pirates that he pulled there—the one thing worse than their breath was their manners, both in and out of the bedroom—but the Mermaid’s clientele was often a desperate sort. People who had just spent months with nothing but the open ocean for miles and only their own hands for company. Usually, all it took was a whispered promise of ecstasy to get a wayward sailor following on his heels. The quality of any resulting situation was rarely stellar and often painful, but it was nothing Astarion hadn’t stomached before.

He was already running down his reliable list of lines to use on his chosen victim when a sudden gust of air blew past the top of his head. Astarion curled his lip, knowing his hair was now likely in disarray, but a scream further up the street drew his focus away.

It was Baldur’s Gate. Astarion had heard screaming before, often followed by the sound of a coin purse or a stomach getting split open and the footsteps of a thief fleeing the scene before the Fist arrived, but this felt different. It wasn’t a scream of someone being mugged or assaulted. Whoever it was sounded terrified.

He didn’t even get the chance to find out why when a light flared up before him, and even after two centuries of running from the sun Astarion could tell it wasn’t daylight. If his lungs still had breath, he was sure the air would’ve been sucked from him. His ears popped, and the light disappeared.

The next thing he knew, he was in a very tight and very dark place, and for a moment his undead heart seized at just the prospect of being deep underground again. His hands clawed out, terror in his throat. What had happened? Had he passed out? Been attacked? Tears burned in his eyes because he knew it didn’t matter what had happened if he had failed. If one of Cazador’s minions had had to drag him back to the mansion empty handed.

He was back in a coffin, back to endless days of blackness and hunger and—

Astarion’s hands met glass.

The panic waned for a moment, replaced by confusion. His fingers dragged down a cold surface, and now that he wasn’t consumed entirely by fear and actually focused, he could see that the surface in front of him was transparent but fogged up by smoke and his frantic undead breath. Glass, he told himself. Not wood. Not a coffin.          

But that hadn’t answered his question of where he was. Or, more importantly, how much trouble he was going to be in when he escaped.

He was just beginning to formulate excuses and apologies for whenever he next faced his master’s wrath when the glass suddenly lifted away, and Astarion found himself face to face with one of the most hideous creatures he’d ever seen. All tentacles and beady orange eyes, long fingers holding up something squirming, and then he was screaming as his eyelids were pried open and it was shoved into his socket, wriggling all the way down.

Astarion had faded in and out of consciousness after that, wondering if it was all just a bad dream—somehow worse than his usual bad dreams—but soon he felt a shudder through the floor, and the far wall was ripped away. He couldn’t get a good look outside, but he saw a bolt of fire rip through the room. Astarion could do nothing but watch in terror as the room began to burn and hope that he wouldn’t be roasted alive. Well, not alive, but…you know.

Soon after he caught sight of someone moving outside. He had reached up and wiped away some of the fog on the glass and saw the vague outline of a tiefling climbing down from some kind of large pod. The same kind of pod Astarion figured he had to be in. He watched the tiefling straighten out, horns stark against the blaze of flames, and saw their face framed in the light streaming from outside. It was a woman, that much he could tell, but she was sprinting from the room before he had the opportunity make out much else besides that and the symbol of a sun on her chest armor. He didn’t even have the chance to call out for help.                   

Another lurch, and he had no time to stop his head from snapping forward against the glass, and everything went dark again.

Then he was on the beach.

Everything had hurt when he opened his eyes again, more than usual, but that quickly became a low priority problem when he realized he was laying in the sun. Astarion had shot up, every instinct in him telling him to run, but as he stood and looked down to assess the damage, he was beyond shocked to see no blisters, no burns. Instead, just his pale skin, fully exposed to the sun, scratched and slightly bloody but otherwise completely fine. He was standing in the sun. Standing in the sun and he was okay.        

It took another bewildered moment for Astarion to realize another thing. Besides a splitting headache, his mind felt remarkably empty. There was a strange tingle behind his eye, but beyond that, nothing. No voice telling him what to do. No whispered command to cut his own skin or to lay with a person he could not have cared less about. No compulsion. No Cazador.                         

If his headache wasn’t so bad, Astarion would’ve been convinced he had died a second time and somehow slipped into Elysium.

His elation only lasted a moment longer before reality set in, however. He was, somehow, standing in the sun, far enough away that Cazador couldn’t reach him, completely and utterly by himself with no idea where he was or what to do. The familiar rumble in his stomach told him a meal should be a top priority, followed perhaps by a tumble in the river to see if he could manage a swim without his vampiric nature causing the water to make him vomit. Then he needed to find civilization.

Astarion looked around. He needed a plan.                                   

He didn’t know how to make a plan.               

He sighed.    

Maybe the situation wasn’t as great as he thought.

Astarion was standing in front of the wreck of his pod, trying to force his brain to come up with something useful, when he heard a voice over his shoulder. He turned and saw two figures further up the road he’d been standing on, with a third a little bit behind them. Astarion blinked into the sun—his eyes were starting to hurt from the sudden strain—and caught the shape of curved horns and red skin.                  A tiefling. The tiefling. The one that had ditched him on the ship.

Now he had a plan.

A plea for help had brought the woman over, with her two companions following shortly after. A quick lie about one of the mindflayers’ pets in the bushes brought the tiefling close enough to snatch, but not before he caught her eyes and saw a momentary flash of suspicion. Astarion gave her his best smile in an attempt to broadcast that he could be trusted and grabbed her the moment she turned her back on him. Stupid move on her part. Never trust a stranger on the road.

Her companions had started yelling almost immediately as he brought his knife to the tiefling’s throat, and this close he could smell her. The sweat on her skin, the faint whiff of cinnamon underneath, and the blood in her veins. Rich and delicious. Her neck was right there. He felt his mouth begin to water and his stomach reminded him that he was starving. All it would take was a tilt of his head, an open mouth, and he’d be more fed in that moment than he had been in nearly two centuries.                      

There was a blossom of pain against his chin and the tiefling was slipping from his hands. With a start, he realized she had bashed her horns against his face. Bitch.             

Astarion leapt to his feet and held his dagger up as he faced the tiefling and her companions. In the sun, her skin looked red as cherries, but there was something wrong with it. He squinted and caught the raised edges of scars curling over her lower face and down her neck. Burn scars, from the look of it, too old to have come from the burning ship. Even with the scars, the woman was pretty. Attractive. Bright, clever eyes, long dark hair braided down her back. His gaze was drawn to her armor again, and he recognized the symbol of the sun as Lathander’s. The Morninglord had no temples in the city, but his and his followers’ quest against the undead was violent enough that Cazador had taught all the spawn to be wary of those baring the mark of the Dawnbringer. 

Astarion narrowed his eyes. So, not only had the woman left him behind, but she also happened to serve the one god who hated the undead more than anything else? Great. Wonderful. Fantastic.

He had spat out his suspicion towards the woman, accusing her of working for the illithids, to which she had retorted that none of them—neither her nor her companions—had wanted to be on that ship. Apparently, they had gotten something slimy forced into their eyes. Parasites that would turn them into mindflayers by the week’s end if they didn’t find a cure. Astarion felt his heart plummet.

He’d gotten the sun and freedom from his mater in exchange for hideous tentacles. Just his luck.

The tiefling introduced herself as Tav, the brooding half-elf as Shadowheart—ominous—and the human wizard as Gale. To Astarion’s surprise, Tav had extended the offer to him to travel with her group, much to Shadowheart’s immediate and obvious irritation. He had weighed his options. On the one hand, he knew it would be incredibly stupid to follow a Lathanderite whose sole divine mission was to hunt the undead. If she even had the hint of suspicion that he was on her god’s hit list, he was done for.

On the other, Astarion genuinely couldn’t recall the last time he’d been on his own. The last time he had to fend for himself. He had enough sense to know that trying to survive by himself would likely end in disaster, and that his odds improved exponentially when accounting for allies, even if one was Lathander’s pet cleric. Oh, well. Beggars couldn’t be choosers.                                               

Astarion had sheathed his dagger and agreed, layering on his best smile for good measure.

Yes, his luck was certainly on the upswing.     

---

Astarion may have not been a fully-fledged member of society in two hundred years, but that didn’t mean he’d forgotten how to make conversation. A skill the wizard apparently lacked. It had taken less than ten minutes of Gale’s rambling about the wildlife he’d noticed on their journey so far for Astarion to determine that, at the first chance, he was pushing the wizard off a cliff. The half-elf, Shadowheart, wasn’t much better. She was quiet and somber, glaring at him every time he so much as looked her way. Astarion gathered enough to know that she, too, was a cleric, but she wouldn’t say who her patron was.

That was fine enough for Astarion. The only confirmation he needed was that Shadowheart was not another Lathanderite. Her lip had curled when she denied the accusation, and Astarion had the sneaking suspicion that, for all Shadowheart’s bristles, she may have been a kindred spirit.

Then there was Tav. Early on in their trek, had had bounded to the front where she was walking. It was obvious the other two were looking to Tav as some kind of leader, and damned if he wasn’t going to weasel his way into her good graces as soon as he could.

“So,” he had drawled as he sidled up to her side. “What’s a woman like you doing in a place like this?”

He almost bit his tongue from cringing at his own line, but it had gotten an eyeroll and a small grin out of Tav, which he counted as a win.

“A mindflayer ship, same as you.”

“Ah, yes. Of course.”             

He waited for Tav to say something, but she let the attempt at conversation lapse into an awkward silence only broken by Gale’s whistling from behind them. Astarion had cleared his throat and cast a glance at Tav. She was pretty, even with the roping scars across her face and neck.

“What were you doing when the mindflayers got you?” she finally said, obviously feeling his eyes on her. He smiled, slipping into the persona he’d been ready to use on his victims.

“Just some late-night paperwork. I’m a magistrate, back in Baldur’s Gate. Tedious work. I’d stepped outside to stretch my legs when those heathens snatched me up.”                                                         

“Baldur’s Gate?” Tav said, and he had caught a curious look in her eye. “I was heading that way when the mindflayers got me."         

“What buisiness do you have in the city?”

Tav had paused, swallowed, bit her lip.

“Visiting friends.”

Astarion knew a lie when he saw one but hadn’t pressed his luck.

Shortly after that, shouting from up ahead and drawn their attention. Astarion stood back and watched as Tav had jogged up, and when he and the others had caught up with her, they saw Tav speaking to two other tieflings who were pointing at something hung in a cage nearby. Upon closer inspection, Astarion saw it was a gith woman, looking very much like an angry toad, glaring at the crowd below.

Tav was talking in low tones to the tieflings, but the words that reached his ears were in a language he didn’t recognize. The two tieflings had exchanged a glance with each other before walking away. Shadowheart had turned on Tav the moment they were out of earshot.

“You are not freeing are, are you?” she had snapped. Tav had already angled her fingers in the direction of the rope holding the cage above the ground.

“More the merrier, Shadowheart. We need allies.”

“Not if those allies are gith.”

Tav hadn’t waited for any more dissention. She let loose a small flicker of brilliant gold flame that seared the edge of the rope. With a crash, the cage had collided into the ground, freeing the gith inside. Almost immediately, Shadowheart broke into an angry rant that the gith wasted no time in joining. Tav nudged in-between the two, attempting to cool the situation.

“Well, she seems delightful,” Gale had quipped from beside him.

Tav had eventually explained that she and Shadowheart had met the gith woman on the mindflayer vessel, and that apparently the gith had been very adamant on leaving Shadowheart to burn alive in her pod, something Shadowheart was still very clearly upset about. There was some bickering, some swearing, and some mild threats of violence, but both Shadowheart and the gith had eventually fallen into a tense calm.

The gith had introduced herself as Lae’zel before explaining that her people knew a cure for their current predicament, and that the cure was located somewhere she called a creche. Whatever the hells that was. Lae’zel had apparently heard her tiefling captors discussing someone who had seen githyanki nearby, and that must have meant one of their strongholds was in the area.

Tav had then revealed the details of her conversation with the tieflings. Under the guise of needing a healer—which Astarion figured wasn’t quite a lie—she had gotten the tieflings to reveal the location of their encampment: a druid’s grove near the top of the incline, around a mile away. However, the tieflings had mentioned something about the grove not being open to strangers, especially not after dark, so the group had decided to make camp and visit the grove in the morning.

That was almost an hour ago, and the sun was giving out its last bit of light before dipping beneath the horizon. As it turned out, only Tav, Lae’zel, and Shadowheart had the supplies to set up a tent, but the two clerics had extra bedrolls to spare for him and Gale. Lae’zel had found an open patch of grass near the beach that was far enough away from the trees to ease fears about wild animals finding their little camp. It was far from luxury, but anywhere Astarion could lay down without Cazador breathing down his neck was good enough. 

Astarion was setting up his bedroll around the fire Gale had started and found his eyes wandering to Tav. Out of solidarity, she had refused to put up her tent and elected to sleep out in the open with him and Gale. Shadowheart and Lae’zel had not followed her example and were putting their tents up on opposite ends of the clearing. Gale meanwhile had begun walking the perimeter of the camp and was setting up protection spells for some extra insurance against attacks, leaving just Astarion and Tav by the fire. Astarion watched her removing her armor piece by piece, first the large chest plate followed by the tough leather shirt underneath, leaving her in just a loose shirt and leggings. The more she stripped away, the more it became clear how far down her scars ran. Her arms, hands, and upper chest were all mottled with puckered tissue, interspersed with patches of white flesh.

“It’s vitiligo,” she said suddenly. He blinked. Apparently he wasn’t being as subtle as he had thought.                      

“Sorry?”

Tav looked up, and in the dark her infernal eyes almost seemed to glow. She pointed to a spot of white skin just above her elbow, stark against the surrounding red flesh.

“These little patches. It’s a skin condition. My body doesn’t make enough pigment, so sometimes the color gets washed out.” She looked up with a crooked smile. “It’s not contagious.”

Astarion hadn’t even realized he was leaning away from her.                  

“Ah. Yes, of course. I knew that.”

Tav gave him a look that he wasn’t sure was a good one.

“Besides,” continued, looking back down to where she was running a cloth over a crossbow. “You’re so pale already, I doubt it would make much of a difference.”

Astarion huffed and rolled his eyes.

“Don’t blame me for wanting to keep all this,” he gestured up and down his body, “looking its best.” He blinked. “Not that the spots don’t suit you, of course. They’re charming.”

“Thanks. I guess.”

Astarion shot her his best smile, but only saw a slight scrunch form between her full brows. Tav was speaking again before he had a chance to take control of the conversation. 

“Speaking of, not to be rude of course, but I couldn’t help but notice you are rather…pallid.” Tav turned to face him fully, crossbow abandoned in her lap. “Don’t get a lot of sun?”

Astarion met her gaze. There was something in Tav’s expression, a pinch in the corners of her eyes, that he couldn’t put his finger on. So, he shrugged and let an easy grin fall over his face.

“I spend my days in an office, darling. Not a lot of time for sunlight when the Fist have you pouring over every minor case this side of the Chionthar.”

“Are you sick, then? The paleness could be due to…lack of blood flow, perhaps? Poor circulation?” 

Astarion caught the suspicion in her eyes this time. An arc in her brow as she worried the skin of her lip between her front teeth. He cursed himself. Tav was a cleric of Lathander. They were bloodhounds when it came to sniffing out the undead. Combined with the other events of the day, she was definitely on high alert.

So, he smiled. Leaned back onto his hands, purposefully catching the fading sunlight that was streaking into camp past the trees. He didn’t need a mirror to know the rays were directly on his face now.

“Alas, I am but one victim in a long line of porcelain elves. Just be grateful you got me and not my father—staring at him in this light would blind you.”

He wasn’t sure if that was a lie or not. Astarion couldn’t remember his father’s face.

“But I do appreciate your concern, dear. Should I feel under the weather, you’ll be the first I call.”

Tav took a long moment, staring at him in the sun, obviously fighting some internal battle. Astarion watched, begging her to let the matter drop, to turn away, to give him his first easy night in two centuries.

At last, her lips curled up in a slight grin, but he could still see a sliver of hesitation in her eyes.

“Of course. I didn’t mean to be nosey. Cleric’s instincts, you understand.”

“Water under the bridge, darling."

There was a clatter and a shout, and they both turned to look over at where Shadowheart and Lae’zel were bickering over what looked like a broken crossbow. Tav sighed and stood, brushing dirt off her pants as she turned away to calm the storm once again.

“I’ll take the first watch tonight,” he called after her. Tav glanced back, a question in her eyes, but she simply nodded. He watched her go, her tail curled up high against her back, shoulders strong, hair well-combed.

An uneasy feeling stirred in his stomach. Tav was suspicious, and watching him walk in the sun was only going to stop her snooping for so long. Eventually, she was going to start digging like Lathander’s lapdogs always do, and the game would be up when she inevitably found out the truth.

Astarion drew his brows together. Vampires were far from the most well-liked creatures in Faerûn, and he didn’t trust any of the people in camp to let him stay if they found out what he was. At best he’d be cast out, at worst he’d be staked. And as much as Astarion hated to admit it, he knew he’d be useless by himself. Two hundred years deprived of freedom led to rusty survival skills. He needed this group, if for nothing else just to keep him safe for the time being.                More importantly, he needed Tav. Her approval was a necessity to earn his place in her makeshift party. It was just a matter of how to earn that approval.

His stomach growled, and he was once again reminded of how hungry he was.

Tav’s favor was a tomorrow problem. For now, he was going to find himself a godsdamn rabbit for dinner.

[tomsfoolery]

born to make maps forced to 5,000 word essay (I’m an English major)

map for my oc lore :] the continent (or two continents idk one flood and that little strip is GONE) is called Deoskrotia

rip the korosian empire you wouldn’t have loved the 30 year war over oil between you know who and Norway (I love my lore)

I’ll add the capital cities when I actually name them LOLZ

But korosia’s capital was called Vriqal Spires and it’s mostly abandoned now

and Corvus’s is called Auratovus

ramblings v

uhh Korosia operated under the belief that their land sat atop the slumbering body of a great dragon (save me vaguely dragon shaped continents save me) so they were very environmentally conscious which is why Corvus magically nuked them and destroyed their environment

Belraine used to be a part of Korosia but they broke off thanks to my bg3 durge who is also in my oc lore bc…yeah…and Vael happened to be like the vessel of a god (not Bhaal) so the empress at the time decided it wasn’t worth fighting the god she worshipped over belraine so

Korosia & Belraine are almost entirely inhabited by tiefling/tiefling-like individuals, Korosia has a lot of dragonborn and half-dragons as well tho bc dragons are very important to them which is ALSO why Corvus stole the dragons as their symbol

Dragons & any draconic or reptilian species are very important to Korosia so they have a lot of respect the more scales or wings you have so…y’know

ummm the whole deal between them is Korosia worships the creator god (who actually made most of the stuff) Ilya and Corvus worships Sycorlan, who is also a creator god but didn’t make as much. Ilya & Syc had a falling out over a misunderstanding and Syc basically rewrote history to paint Ilya as evil bc Ilya represents a lot of life cycles n stuff?? Like death must happen to make way for new life n stuff, so Syc used that against him and then beat him so bad Ilya basically died and is forced to reincarnate into vessels that are growing increasingly independent of his wishes. Which is where the lore picks up?

Kosorvo was the ATTEMPT between Korosia and Corvus to get along but Corvus pressured them w/trade embargoes into allying with them so

Nuevas Cantaras isn’t actually a country anymore, but they used to be a very long time ago. Back when the gods Ilya created were still in power Nuevas Cantaras was a huge hub for worshippers of the fire snake god Feu-Ra, however aftee Ilya’s fall he could feel his power corrupting and his control slipping so he trained the daughter of the new fire god to take his fang and slay him which created the Eye of Fire that’s been passed down quite a lot to the other main character in my story (who cannot tie his shoes)

Ilya, after spending several eternities having his name slandered and countless wars, is not nearly as benevolent or kind as he once was so his vessels usually aren’t happy.

Vaelkas is actually the only one of these vessels to break himself away from Ilya and still be alive and it’s because Astarion (yes I yoinked him) found a way to drain him to where he’s almost dead and simultaneously perform a ritual to expel Ilya.

Vyserion was the vessel prior to the one in the main story, he died during the final war between Corvus and Korosia that got Korosia eradicated. Tbh he just wanted to retire and go live on his estate in peace. Now he’s a ghost who bullies/advises the new vessel occasionally and also is currently trying to stage a coup in hell!

Aaaand the current vessel is named Ser and he was rushed to be made (?) bc Ilya wanted him to be the child of the lady who killed Vyserion just to make her go insane so naturally that childhood went very well for ser

And naturally he grows up during a war between Norway & the U.S. over oil reserves (blah blah his “mom” moved from Deoskrotia to earth blah blah) so what better way to avoid being the tool of the god than to be the tool of the military!

Ser is struggling so hard trying to live with a foot in both worlds he is losing his mind thank goodness he has a loving husband (he gets kidnapped) (and slowly falls out of love with Ser bc man’s cannot find his marbles)

[fantastic-mr-corvid]

book club meeting no. 0

for the @owlcatober prompt 3, reading.

Daeran interrupts Mura reading to have a conversation around the books shes been weighing the party down with, and requests for certain types of books

warnings: none! except some dirty humor about illustrated demon summoning books and a joke that's in line with daerans dialog about certain key figures of the crusades.

The vapid aasimar lounges in her doorway, a book in his hands; A book that should be locked in her chest at the foot of her bed. The bed she's currently sitting on, curled over reading one of the books that caught her eye in the library, just before she finally gave way to exhaustion.

‘And pray tell, why do you think you have the right to rifle through my things?’ a tad defensive, but he revels in evoking such emotion.

‘I was hoping that at least one of the books you decided to make us lug around the city after various mutts and malcontenters would make for more interesting reading than the blandness that counts as reading material in this armpit of the city’ a faux outraged turn of his head, ‘you would think a establishment such as a tavern would have interesting material, not this depravity of culture’ a mock look of dismayed understanding, ‘although i do suppose the damn crusaders got here first and practically leached anything interesting out of this place the second they crosses the threshold’

She volleyed back with a desert dry voice ‘what a shame, i left the heretical books illustrated sex rituals in the dungeon with their creators corpses, i thought i should let their ghosts have some entertainment. And given that you occupy so much of your time and derive so much joy from taunting the crusaders that surround us, I thought that sated your appetite for entertainment. I see my mistake now, and shall seek to rectify it in the future’

‘Surely you could have left some for me?’ he pulled off the pleading look well, but not as well as the tiefling. 

‘If we make it out of here alive i'll commission you a personalized version with all the sacrifices being replaced by her majesty’

And there was the sharp grin that was uncomfortably close to the one that fills her dreams.

‘I will hold you to that, as payment for my suffering among these cruel killer of joy’ his dramatics made him more irritating than endearing, but he was plenty of entertainment by himself, and though she didn't suffer much under the practicality of the current crusaders, the urge to laugh in there face and mock them to the end of the earth for their naivete and piousness was one she fought down often, so having the count voice her slander made some petty part of her sing with joy.

‘Your more than welcome to leave, i believe you should be able to walk out the door’ a dramatic point not out of place on a theater stage, but slightly out of place coming from her wrinkled and creased shirt sleeve, and topped by her cracked nail polish and in some cases torn nails. 

Of course the world had conspired against her appearance in front of the one person in the city who would currently care.

His smug and self assured voice cut through her thoughts, ‘Please you would miss my darling personality’ 

Sharpening her tongue, she lowers her hand and dons a smug grin of her own,  ‘I wouldn't miss the severed heads weighing us down- surely they take up more space than a few books’

A thud through the left wall, and a cut off exclamation accompanied by the sound of swiftly moving hair proved that the tiefling and the half elf had both been, at least to some extent, listening in.

Mentally rewinding the conversation revealed no major conflict, indeed the thief would almost certainly appreciate her joke about the queen, although the rapier wielder was another thing altogether, but one on the fence rather than far out in the field on the opposite side.

The healer in front, on the other hand, had become an order of magnitude more insufferable for his small success in her slip up. Although the jokes on him, given the loudest their conversation got was her sharply revealing the source of the severed heads plaguing the groups various storage's.

Wrapping her hand around the spine of the book splayed open on the covers of her bed, she snapped it shut in an attempt to signal an end to the conversation. 

An attempt that works thankfully, with a mere parting shot of ‘i'll hold you to that promise, and make no promise of my own about hiding the source’ as he turned away to his own corner of the tavern.

A grin slowly built up inside before bursting onto her face as she slipped a hand under her pillow and cracked open the sloppily bound, and disconcertingly bloodstained book hidden underneath.

A delightful read, and insight into the warped minds of the cultists they were fighting, even if some of them were, let's say, lacking imagination. Maybe it would even find its way under the pillow of a certain counts chair.

A book club sounds like the perfect idea to promote conversation and bonds between the ragtag group- she couldn't wait to see what books the count managed to find if it did go ahead.

[keegansakura]

Unrelated but thanks Tumblr update for highlighting I have mutuals now o-o hi yes hello

Anyways if you wanna ask about or help slander my problem tiefling my box is open

Also got some other DND characters related to the Lore and Lunatics universe if you're curious-

And some non lore and lunatics stuff.. maybe a drabble- idk

Someone looked under my metaphorical internet rock and I don't know what to do

[theamethystofficial]

The Amethyst & The Prince: Volume I - chapter one

A/N: hi! i'm very excited to share this with you. it's been on my mind since november, and i've finally gotten the chance to edit and upload it! also, this is my first time uploading a fic to tumblr as well as ao3 -- let me know how you like it!

ao3. | hub post.

If it were up to Mollymauk, they’d be enjoying themself outside on a fine day like this. The sky outside is a pristine blue, kept clear by the silent breeze that causes the powder-white curtains framing the half-open window to flutter. Idly, they watch a scene of two children running through the maze below with a faint smile.

What they wouldn’t do to be down there themself, enjoying the lovely day outside.

“Mx. Tealeaf.”

In an instant Mollymauk’s attention returns to the frowning man sitting across from them. Right, they were in the middle of a conversation – one they’d struggled to pay attention to. On the napkin their host’s tucked into his collar, he somehow managed to acquire an assortment of biscuit crumbs. He wears them more as an accessory than anything, they think but don’t say aloud.

“Are you even listening to anything we’ve been saying?” he asks. There’s a faint look of contempt on his face, just barely concealed. Reflexively, the tiefling starts to smile in a quiet apology as they roll their eyes internally. They hate to-dos like this. Everything is so stuffy here – the people, the room. Even the birds outside seem to be bloated, stuffed to the brim with something pompous and powdery.

“Oh, love, that’s just how these kinds of people are.” The man beside him waves a hand. There’s no disguising the distaste in the smarmy smirk he gives Mollymauk. “Very little going on upstairs, dear. That’s exactly the kind of personality to be expected from someone like the Ruby of the Sea. Only good for pretty faces.”

Any attempt at defending themself dies in an instant. Mollymauk turns their gaze to the other man, gaze scrutinizing. A pretty face, huh?

“I’m flattered that you think my employer and I are pretty.” The tiefling sits straighter; a hand reaches for their cup of tea. “I can promise you, however, the Ruby is more than a pretty face. There’s a reason she’s treasured by the Menagerie Coast.”

The smarmy one’s husband chuckles into his cup of tea. “Oh, I can think of two reasons she’s treasured by the sailors.”

Mollymauk’s blood boils at that. Their eyes narrow at the man. Their rage hides behind a pointed smile as they focus on the magic coursing through their blood. The chuckling man’s eyes turn black in an instant, ichor leaking from them.

“Oh my,” they say, doing their best to sound concerned. “Are you well? You should get that looked at. I hear it’s an affliction quite common in people with hearts blackened by envy.”

As the two men fuss over the ailment, Mollymauk calmly stands and dusts off their dress. “I’ll leave you to handle this pressing matter. If you can stomach the thought of sharing a room with a harlot such as the Ruby of the Sea, you are more than welcome to write her an apology for this undeserved slander.” Their polite smile melts into a disdainful snarl. Easily they switch from common to infernal. “Respectfully, I hope you two have the day you deserve.”

With that parting sentiment, the tiefling turns and walks outside. They give Yasha, the aasimar woman at the carriage, a pleasant smile before climbing inside.

“So…I’m guessing that went as well as we were thinking it would.”

Mollymauk scoffs lightly, looking out the window of the carriage as they start the trip back home. They catch their reflection in the glass. A striking lavender face, made up with the nicest makeup found in the colorful city of Nicodranas. Their eyes glint red in the glass. Crimson as long as they can remember. Marion said their eyes made them special. Some days, like today, they find them unsettling. Abruptly they look back to Yasha.

“I hate this place,” announces the tiefling with a cross of their arms. “Full of frigid people who think they’re better than everyone else just because they’ve got more gold. More – education. It’s infuriating being in the same room as them.”

Their friend gives them a sympathetic look. Despite her intimidating frame, she has her gentle moments. “They didn’t hurt you?” she asks.

“Not at all. They couldn’t hurt me – even if they wanted to. And I’m sure they did.” Wryly Mollymauk grins. “I gave them quite the spook, though. But…we’ll probably never hear from them again. I hope not.”

“Who needs them, anyways? We certainly don’t.” Yasha lifts her head with a smile. “I’ve had better booze in the worst of dingy taverns. Their cherry wine’s got nothing on a pint of the good stuff from Killian’s Last Stand.”

That gets a chuckle out of Mollymauk. “I’d drink to that, if I could. Well said, love.” With a sigh they look out the window again. “Shit, I could go for a drink after that, personally. Detour?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

The dive bar they find is positively grimy, but full of life. It seems to be the exact opposite of the house they’d just come from. With a deep breath in, Mollymauk takes in all the rancid smells of the place, before exhaling with a pleasant sigh.

“Now this is where I belong,” they announce. “This is more like it.”

The pair squeeze into a couple of bar stools, with Mollymauk offering the bartender a smile and wave. Hopefully they don’t stand out too much in their nice dress. For a moment they fret over it, before shaking it off. If anyone tries anything, Yasha won’t be too far behind to keep them out of trouble.

“Wonderful! Positively splendid.” Mollymauk’s smile is bright as the bartender sets down a pair of tankards in front of the two. “Thanks very much, friend.” They receive a grunt in response, which makes them chuckle.

“At least that was the only errand you had today,” says Yasha after a deep swig from her tankard. She wipes away the sudsy mustache on her lip. “If you had something else to do after that, I was wondering if we’d need some sort of excuse for you to return to the Chateau early. Some sort of head cold, or stomach bug.”

“I appreciate you looking out, love,” Mollymauk says with a chuckle. “Honestly, I’m not sure how well I’d have been able to do that song and dance again after being called a brainless piece of eye candy just now.” Their nose wrinkles at the thought; they push it away with their own swig of ale. “But! That’s all behind us now, yeah? No need to ruminate.”

“The next one will be better.” Yasha gives a single nod, before looking down at the tiefling. “And if it’s not…well. I could always teach them a lesson or two, if you need me to.” With a raise of her eyebrows, she presses a fist into her hand, then grins.

“Tempting, certainly. I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

Their pleasant conversation is interrupted by a commotion at the door. Turning, Mollymauk watches a half-elf stroll in. His suit is covered with patches, but still looks quite smart on him. Perhaps it was the finely curled mustache that tied the whole thing together, or the top hat. The gentleman looks around the tavern for a moment before catching the tiefling’s gaze.

“Well, I have never seen folks more in need of a good time than you two,” he says as he approaches. His voice is full of bravado. The air of a performer is hard to miss as he offers Yasha and Mollymauk each a flier. “Fortunately for you, the Fletching and Moondrop Traveling Carnival of Curiosities is in town! Only a couple silver to get in. Best coin you’ll ever spend in your life. You’ll be changed people after this show, or my name isn’t Gustav Fletching!”

“A carnival?” echoes Mollymauk, eyes widening. “That sounds lovely.”

“Doesn’t it just? We’ve got all sorts of performers, refreshments – even a trinket or two to decorate your shelves at home! I promise you, Ma’am, it’s worth peeking your head in for a moment.” Gustav’s smile falters for a moment. “Or – Sir? Sorry.”

The tiefling waves their hand. “After the day I’ve had, I’m not concerned with either, really.” They look to Yasha, who’s studying the flier with a furrowed brow. “We’ll think on it,” they finally say to the half-elf, who folds in a half-bow.

“What do you think?” Mollymauk asks once Gustav leaves. After another moment of silence Yasha shrugs, offering a hum.

“Seems a bit…garish,” she finally says. “Very flashy and loud. I say we just finish up here and go back to the Chateau.” *

Now it’s Mollymauk’s turn to go silent. They look at the flier in their hands, admiring the way it sparkles and glints when they hold it a certain way. It’s tacky, sure, and likely not worth the two silver admission, but they can’t deny there’s something charming about the idea of a traveling circus.

“What if we just…ran away on one of these trips,” they say abruptly. “Join a show like this. We could go anywhere we’d like! And we wouldn’t have to worry about offending stuck-up ‘friends’ of Marion’s, who aren’t really her friends, but who pretend to be.”

Yasha’s chuckle is a surprised one; they’re surprised by the sheepish expression on her face. “I’m not sure about all of that, Molly. I don’t think I’d do too well in one of these shows. Not the best performer, you know.”

“Oh, nonsense. You’re the charm! Everyone would love you.” Mollymauk gently bumps her shoulder with theirs. “And if they didn’t, they’d be too scared to tell you that.” Their smile fades a little as they look back at the flier. “I just think…we could be free, y’know? To do whatever we’d like. See the world. No obligations.”

“You might be free, but you wouldn’t be respected.” The gruff voice behind them seems to come from out of nowhere. Abruptly Mollymauk turns to see the bartender scowling at the door, where Gustav had recently left with a wave and a lift of his hat. “My daughter left to join one of ‘em shows last summer. She came back not a month later, cryin’ about how everyone treated her like absolute shite. You join a sideshow like that, you’re beggin’ to be spat on. Just how the world is nowadays.”

Mollymauk blinks in surprise, looking at Yasha. She offers a quiet shrug, just as confused as they are. After a moment the tiefling leans in. “Sorry to hear about your daughter. If you don’t mind me asking, what was her – I dunno, her act?”

“She’s always been pretty skilled with a pair of swords. I think her stage name was the Whirling Dervish of the Menagerie.” A proud smile tugs at the corners of the bartender’s lips. “She was small, but a ball of righteous fury when she had to be. Menace when she was younger, though. This place? I’ve had to redo the roof three different times.”

“Sounds like she was quite the handful.” Neatly Mollymauk folds the flier in half, tucking away the thought for now. “I’d love to hear every story you have of her, if you don’t mind.”

By the time they leave, the sun’s settled just behind the point of the red and white striped tent that’s appeared just on the edge of town. Yasha’s left to get the carriage ready for the trip back, leaving Mollymauk to stand just outside the doors of the tavern. Wistfully they watch people filter through the canvas doors of the tent, disappearing into a world of whimsy.

What was it like, they wondered, to have a home that never stood still? Maybe one day they’d find out. Hopefully that day would come soon.

“Molly?” The sound of hoofsteps behind them brings the tiefling back to the present. Yasha tilts her head at them as she brings the carriage to a stop. “Ready to head out? Marion might be worried if we take any longer.”

Right. They were the Amethyst, first and foremost. Waiting back at the Chateau was a job, and responsibilities that came with it. Shaking their head, Mollymauk offers her a smile as they approach.

“Sorry about that. Just thinking. Let’s get out of here, yeah?”

[thepickledmermaid]

Okay but could we all also please sit down and discuss this for a moment? Because the folks saying all this Wyll slander nonsense with their whole chest is getting on my last ttrpg playin nerves.

First of all Wyll is not upset he “looks like a tiefling” because he doesn’t. He looks like a devil. Which in and of itself is pretty F’ed up because it’s irreversible. So now, whether he breaks his pact of not, every-time he looks in the mirror he gets to be reminded of his abuser.

Secondly, some of y’all running your mouths only have half of an understanding of D&D lore and it shows. It’s not just that he got punished for doing the right thing by having his entire physical appearance completely changed against his will…which I would love to have anyone argue that they wouldn’t feel some sort of way about were it themselves …. But y’all are missing the actual reason he is so withdrawn and pensive at the Tiefling party.

When Mizora punished him, she didn’t just make him look like a devil…. She made him enough of an actual devil that his literal SOUL is now condemned to the hells for all eternity.

He’s not insensitive or dumb or (ffs REALLY?) raciest… he is literally a man who is having a COMPLETELY UNDERSTANDABLE struggle bus moment while coming to terms with the fact that no matter what he does for the rest of his life, he is condemned to the hells when he dies.

Think about that for a second. No matter how much good he does, it’s doesn’t matter. He could save every orphan, defeat every monster and vanquish every evil… he could become a literal saint on earth and it Does. Not. Matter.

Because in the end, Wyll is going to go to hell the exact same as if he were the worst villain ever known to man.

AND HE STILL CHOOSES TO BE KIND!!

So Wyll haters can miss me with that BS.

if i had a dollar for every time someone called wyll insensitive/dumb/racist for saying he's uncomfortable looking like a devil during the tiefling party i would have enough money to bribe larian to give him more content

[sonofbhaal]

@tenderhellfire sent: Bhaal ? More like BAaaaAAAAAAHHHHH-aaahhh 🐑

For the longest moment Sarevok remains silent, giving her nothing in response other than a gaze filled with such contempt it says more than any words that will follow. But don't be mistaken - it's not the insult to his 'father' that births his ire; he, too, is not beyond slandering the dead god's name and spitting on his legacy now that it lies so far outside his reach that any dreams of achieving it feel like memories of another life entirely. And in a way it is! He did die and returned only through the gift of a soul freely given, long after his time.

And it is that, that very bitterness over all the battles lost and dreams gone up in flame and ashes, over losing the only companion who ever truly chose to have him at her side, that, in that moment, fills the half-blood with no sympathy for the creature before him. (Not that he'd normally possess that in abundance.)

He sits a little straighter and tilts his head to spit on the ground, never breaking eye contact with the tiefling. "Funny how you mock my heritage when out of the two of us clearly you're the one who had a ram as a father. No need to imitate the scream - the horns are enough to give it away."

[lunarreverb]

So as of last night I’ve stumbled onto the big conflict of interest at the beginning of Act 3…

And it looks like the game is setting me up to choose between #1 Orpheus fan Lae’zel and the Emperor. Which sucks! but also is a pretty delicious dilemma. I have no idea how I’m gonna untangle this but I’m having fun wrapping my brain around it!

I feel like the ideal order of operations would be a) get the hammer as a failsafe, but not use it right away, then b) go smash the elder brain because frankly keeping it around or trying to control it is too much trouble. At that point I think I could give the Emperor a headstart running far, far away from Orpheus before I smash Orpheus’ chains and ask for a tadpole-ectomy, please. The Emperor probably wouldn’t love this plan but I wouldn’t love depending on a weird guy-powered contraption and The Emperor’s willingness to keep me as a not-squid forever? Seems like there’s an increasing interest in making me a squid so I can be squid company.

(I can’t be a squid because hopefully I will be busy being Astarion’s vampire queen or whatever. I’m letting him be ruthless in his pursuit of getting the Black Mass power for himself. He deserves to be a little evil, as a treat! I’m confident this is a great idea that will have no negative consequences whatsoever.)

Anyway I also think the game won’t want me to do things in that order and will force me to make a choice between the Emperor and Orpheus before confronting the brain so the brain fight can be the big ultimate conclusion. I suppose I’ll just have to see!

ALSO, it continues to be hilarious when Raphael shit-talks Mephistopheles to me, a Mephistopheles tiefling. I think it’s assumed in-setting that tieflings don’t necessarily have or owe any loyalty to their ancestral fore-devil, but I’ve decided it’s the funniest to read this like Raphael is slandering my grampa while trying to be persuasive. HAH.

[richardsphere]

My BG3 review

Full disclosure: Havent finished the game yet, currently deeply into act 3 but not yet reached a true ending, Act 1 is good at getting you invested and setting up a solid narrative foundation, but is actually sort-of bad at telling players which characters are playable. I legitimately didnt find the vampire until i wanted to go through the mountains and the game prompted me to grind for EXP lest i get my ass stomped, and was convinced that the druid was a camp-buddy like Withers, Scratch or the Baby Owlbear instead of a full-blown partymember. Also the Tiefling Party is weird? The option to romance characters at that moment felt weirdly early, and it didnt comunicate properly that you'd have the option to say no right now and pursue them later should your character come to like them in the future. So I as a player felt really put on the spot. (I regret making my character pick a romance in that moment. But I did see they could come to like Karlach in the future and didnt want to be locked out of it. In hindsight i regret picking romance) Act 2 is bad at telling you where to go. the Cursed Lands are drab, boring and have little in the way of recognisable landmarks, and the quest to un-curse the land requires you enter a random room in the inn to talk to a stranger unprompted and uninvited. I basically spent act 2 lost as fudge, unaware of anything that was going on and only met any of Throms kids after i finished the questline because the town they live in looked like a generic ghosttown that couldn't possibly have antying more to offer then more generic shadowmonsters. Act 3 is bad, like crumbling under its own weight bad. Questlines are interwoven with eachother in ways that basically force you to quit a quest half-way to get on with the another quest they dont actually tell you where to find. (the Gondians) and so many of the quests feel like sudden timers? (first it's "rig the printing press before tonight or be slandered", then its "be quick or Orin kills Zevlor without warning", then it's "You dont know how long you have before Orin kills the Hostage" followed by "defeat the Farslayer in 5 turns or less" and "stage a prisonbreakout in less then a single in-world minute). A lot of the quest objectives in Act 3 feel like annoying time-gimicks. Meanwhile the Act 3 Recruit can only be recruited after going far enough into the sewer to trigger the Hostage, yet refers to the hostage as if they've been allies a long time. Gale refers to Raphaels Contract as a signed thing when I refused to make a contract and just came home from a long day of KILLING HIM IN HELL, and Vos just WONT SPAWN so Lae'zel's questline is actually unfinishable. Act 3 falls apart on a script level as a result of its own attempts at complexity, and makes the world incredibly unbelievable as a result. Act 1 feels like the set-up for a brilliant game, Act 2 feels bad and lost. Act 3 just plain sucks to the point im not certain i'm finishing this game at all. Also tip for Larian: If you do produce some DLC: Please stop hiding your questgivers inside random buildings with closed (but unlocked) doors. Not all players are breaking into every strangers home hoping to beg them for Quests unprompted. I didnt find Marinya in act 3 until I looked up a guide to see if she even makes it there or that I was supposed to find her somewhere in Act 2 and got her killed because i didnt. Meanwhile I couldnt find the Remove The Shadow Curse quest because as far as I can tell from what i read online, starting it involves entering a random hotelroom for seemingly no story-prompted reason at all to speak with a random harper.