#tilses bg3

[ploompkin]

Biker Zev and Tilly! I love this AU :'D

[hugcollector]

the way Zevlor calls Tilses "Tilly" when he reminds her that they're civilians now and shouldn't be readying for fights is so adorable I can't even... so warm and gentle

[ploompkin]

I FEEL you it’s so hard to get good refs of Tilly. I might go and take a few screenshots and post them here to help myself and others!

BUT THIS IS SO GOOOOD you’ve really managed to capture her face shape 💕

Not bad for a 1st try, I gotta work on her a little more and I will but I need more refs of her

@ploompkin

[shewolfofvilnius]

so a bunch of tieflings from the grove just outright go missing after Act 1. No bodies in the Shadow Curse, no letters, no dialogues from others. Just a dozen-plus missing tieflings. Coincidentally, only one of them was at the tiefling party.

Anyway, my headcanon is that the tiefling caravan split in two, with those who we never see again being the 'early' group - who managed to avoid the shadows and Absolute Cult and eventually get where they're going safely. It was just the 2nd, later, group that got caught up in the shadows. Guex got an early start with the early group and we never see him again, while those who hung around later were the ones we had to help out again.

[starlitsemantics]

BG3 having a bunch of recurring NPCs from *Elturel* aka the city so plagued by vampires it started the chain of events that led to the Descent, as well as a vampire companion (cosmic horror pun not intended) who makes a very lacklustre attempt at hiding the vampness (iirc you can have him bite people at the second Grove battle right in front of former Hellrider Zevlor), is definitely a choice.

I am ultimately glad they decided not to have any of the refugees comment on it because it would force some odd story choices (it seems very odd even post Avernus for Zevlor or Tilses to be chill with a vampire hanging around - desperation and lack of options are a hell of a drug, but the risk reward ratio on early game Astarion, who also does not hide his disdain for them, seems like the kind of thing they wouldn't be able to look past especially with children involved). Making the player choose between interactions with the tiefling faction and Astarion as a companion would be terrible in terms of experiencing the story to its fullest, while having them be easily persuaded he's all good would feel cheesy and off to me, so in that sense, the polite fiction that they're just completely unaware works best.

But

But

Consider the following: they're absolutely aware what he is and don't trust the party to do anything sensible about it (because let's face it, the party doesn’t really give off the vibe of being particularly sensible), so take things into their own hands. What I'm envisioning is Zevlor being too busy to be on it all the time so he deputises Tilses and maybe Ikaron or Asharak to handle it. At all times when the party is around the Grove, two to three people with sharpened stakes follow them, hiding behind corners spy comedy style and being wildly conspicuous to anyone with eyes - it's just that our player characters are failing every perception check.

(The less comedic version of dealing with this conundrum is one I'm still hammering out the finer details of for my post-game story. It is also narratively tasty but unfortunately, sad)

[lolliputian]

I think you are the most qualified person to ask this question since you write the tieflings so well: what Olympic sport would the tiefs complete in?

High praise indeed, Anon! Thank you so much!

Going through the list of events, I'm going to go through the adult Tieflings we see in the Grove. I'm also sticking to the summer events.

Zevlor is, of course, Equestrian, and more specifically eventing (which, I discovered, is basically a triathlon). Tilses would also take place in Equestrian, but she'd be focused on jumping. If the Hellriders aren't taking place in the equestrian events, it's a crime. Nuff said.

Rolan would be a swimmer. I think he'd would find swimming for exercise cathartic--the water resistance, the controlled breathing, engaging all your muscle groups to move through the water.

Lia would be a rower for a similar reason, engaging all the upper body muscles. I think she would do really well with a team, as well, and find a lot of fulfillment in it. Cal, in perhaps a surprising choice, would take part in gymnastics. His high strength score lends itself to strength based events. Imagine Cal taking on the pommel horse or the rings, holy shit.

Dammon, surprising absolutely no one, would take part in the hammer throw. But, before I remembered that existed, I also figured he would do well with shot put. Short bursts of power suit him.

Along a similar vein, Alfira would really excel at rhythm gymnastics as a form of artistic expression. Lakrissa, on the other hand, is a natural for archery, and in a modern AU would absolutely be that person doing trick shots on TikTok.

In canon, we know Bex is a great runner and that she was able to outrun the cultists. Thus, I can see her taking part in the sprinting events. Danis, meanwhile, I think would get the most enjoyment out of golf out of any of the events available. Outside of competition, I think he'd like the social aspect of it.

Komira is absolutely a Taekwondo girl--she was ready to throw down with the druids and strikes me as the type who wouldn't hesitate to fight for what she believes in. Locke's temperament, in contrast, reminds me more of a distance runner. He's much calmer than his wife.

So I debated between Asharak and Guex whom I thought would be a better fit for fencing--we see Asharak training the kids in fighting, and Guex using Main Hand Attack against Makeshift Training Dummy. Ultimately, I felt Asharak's temperament was a lot better for it and, frankly, that he would do well enough to compete on an Olympic level. Guex's event? Javelin Throw. We see him use potentially any weapon you sell Dammon against the Training Dummy if you defeat the druids (off the top of my head, I can't think of anyone who uses a javelin canonically otherwise minus maybe Cal). But I also think he'd like the challenge and feeling powerful without having to get into close quarters.

If we've talked Tiefling headcanon, you'll know I carry a headcanon that Okta is/was a monk and actively adventured until her pregnancy. Thus, she's a natural fit for Judo. Ikaron, too, does a physical event that requires a lot of control and precision: Boxing. Like Rolan with swimming, I think he'd find it cathartic.

Cerys would take part in the modern pentathlon. We don't know much about her backstory from the game besides her being a scout and the third leader option if both Zevlor and Asharak are killed in Act 1. Thus, IMO, she has to be extremely impressive in her own right. The pentathlon presently includes fencing, swimming, equestrian jumping, laser pistol shooting, and distance running.

Zorru and Yul are other canonical scouts. We know Zorru was able to make it Baldur's Gate presumably by himself, which means not only is he a good runner, but he has to be skilled at dodging obstacles, too. He's a natural choice for hurdles. Yul, we don't know enough about, but for the endurance required for scouting, let's slot him into cycling.

Kaldani and Rikka get to be our beach volleyball pair! I really wanted a duo that's seen a lot together in game, and they seem to get along well. I can see them working amazingly well at a team and being unafraid to work hard to win.

Damays and Nymessa were a little hard for me--I very much wanted Nymessa to be in breakdancing just to make Damays's head explode (at least the way I characterize them). But, in the end, I thought pole vault would be a good fit for her. Damays seems a fit for discus throwing.

Kanon strikes me as someone who would be really good at diving. We know he was a tailor in Elturel, and I think he'd appreciate the precision and artistry. Arka and Memnos? They get to be our tennis duos team. I think they'd balance each other well in the sport.

Pandirna absolutely has to be in weightlifting, all things considered. Let's hope she doesn't get in trouble for doping with Ethel's potions... Toron I think would be wrestling because wrestling cattle or something. Nadira would be sport climbing, because that seems to fit in well with her sneaking around devils and the like. (I can't remember at the moment how much of that is canon and how much of it was headcanon we came up with on the camp server.)

Eramis and Elegis I slotted into long jump and high jump respectively. At the time of writing this, this is based off vibes from each of them rather than anything in game that lent itself to this. Finally, Xeph, Rechel, and Amek get to be our synchronized swimmers, because we gotta have synchronized swimmers, and also I don't know where else to put them.

Hope you enjoyed the post!

[cauldronoffruitbats]

Silly little idea that I wanted to draw out between all these soldiers

[jellyfitzjelly]

Zevlor who stumbles upon Tilses in Baldur's Gate after everything that happened. And Zevlor can't face her. Not after everything he has done, not after how he has failed everyone. So he turns around, speeds through the dark street not enough drunk to his liking.

And he hears her going after him, calling him "Commander! Commander! Wait!" as if she was still at the barracks in Elturel trying to keep up with him as he hurried to the training grounds. The memory brings a stab of pained nostalgia to Zelvor. He manages to lose shortly after.

[bppeny32]

Arm Wrestle

Blacksmith Arms vs Old Man Strength

[bg3smash-or-pass]

[vault-of-lore]

Tilses: That's it. We can head to the city. Dunno about you, but I'm ready to start my life again. // Hope you won't miss this place. Don't think we'll be coming back any time soon.

[ploompkin]

Mentor/mentee relationship Zevlor and Tilly just makes me really warm and squishy okay

[itsclydebitches]

Zevlor: An Angsty Character Analysis

Hey, Zevlor simps. Can I interest anyone in 4,000 words about our favorite disaster tiefling? 💀

“We can’t stay, but we’ll be slaughtered if we leave—we’re no fighters.”

Back during my first play-through this is the line that turned Zevlor from another dime-a-dozen, exposition spouting NPC to a character I was legitimately interested in. “We’re no fighters.” My DnD ignorance abounds, but even I could see that wasn’t an accurate statement. Here’s a mountain of a man sporting fancier armor than my level 2 Tav knows exists yet, having wrecked half the goblin hoard with his crossbow and, if you let him, he'll happily turn to punching as a solution to verbal disagreements. Plus, he’s clearly the one giving the orders, so what do you mean you’re not a fighter?

Having explored the Grove a bit I chalked it up to a generalized assessment of the refugees as a whole. They’re mostly kids, civilians, and would-be protectors who only look the part of fighters in cobbled-together armor. One woman is grappling with the guilt of killing someone for the first time, even an enemy. Lakrissa is sure they’re all going to get slaughtered and is willing to put money on that fact. Meanwhile, the couple you meet are more concerned with what pet they’ll get when they somehow, someway, make it to the city. Don't worry about how that'll happen. You learn later that even those like Ronan are small potatoes compared to most of the baddies you’ll face. On paper he looks and sounds like the real deal—dressed in robes, talking up an apprenticeship with the famous Lorroakan—but scenes like the celebration light show and his own fury at needing to be saved, again, highlight how far he still has to go. The point is that Zevlor is right: these aren’t fighters and he at 18 strength, paladin, former commander, is definitely the exception.

However, BG3 is the sort of detail-heavy game where I’d expect them to include that exception in the dialogue. “We can’t stay, but we’ll be slaughtered if we leave—these people aren’t fighters.” Zevlor’s inclusion of himself in this assessment continued to nag at me and it didn’t start to make sense until I delved into his tag here on tumblr, with more patient players than myself posting everything there is to know about the tiefling. (Thanks, all.) Zevlor is fascinating to me in part because he has this contradictory nature, one example of which is that he’s a very talented fighter who desperately doesn’t want to be a fighter anymore.

…but also he totally does.

We overhear in his dialogue to Tilses that Zevlor is adamant about shedding the titles he’s earned through combat: Hellrider, Commander, Sir. He insists that they’re just civilians now and it’s not like he’s being disingenuous here—note that he introduces himself as just “Zevlor” to Tav. Zevlor means what he says to Tilses and we can see that he’s trying to both reinforce his point and lesson the blow by referring to her as “Tilly.” The nickname is a sweet one, hinting at their close bond in just a single word, reminding her that he’s not saying this to hurt her, he cares for her… but the nickname is simultaneously something he never would have used as her commander. The intimacy meant to comfort is also a hard blow to weather. They're now people who use nicknames inappropriate for the hierarchy of battle.

So Zevlor means what he says here, means it enough that Tilses is convinced and drops her use of “Commander,” but there’s definitely a hint of bitterness in his voice. At least, I’ve always heard it. Zevlor is steadfast in his conviction here, even going so far as to say, “I’m done soldiering, Tilly” when discussing what will come next at Baldur’s Gate. Yet for all of that his tone conveys (understandable) anger and disappointment that it’s come to this. Zevlor doesn’t act like someone who truly wants this change, but rather someone who’s been forced to accept it.

Is it outside forces unwillingly influencing him then? Did Avernus truly change things irrevocably? No, not really. At least, not in the way Zevlor likes to claim. Tilses herself states that being a Hellrider is for life; nothing can take away that title. You lost your post? Your whole city? Most of the people under your protection? Doesn’t matter! You’re a Hellrider forever, no matter the circumstances. I can easily picture a time in Zevlor's life where he would have agreed with Tilses wholeheartedly. They are Hellriders, dammit, and so long as there’s one person looking for their help they will wield that title alongside their blades. And right now, Zevlor has a lot more than just one person in need of his assistance.

So it’s not that Avernus truly stripped them of that identity. Nothing can do that. Zevlor is not rejecting titles and planning retirement because the mechanisms of fate are forcing him to.

He’s doing all that because he’s lost confidence in himself.

Even as someone with a shaky understanding of DnD classes, I love the parallel between a broken oath and the rejection of a lifelong title. If Zevlor can fail in his oath—or in his faith entirely, according to the memories stemming from his pod—why-ever would he think that any other ‘permanent’ part of his identity was worth fighting for? If you can loose the very thing you’ve built your entire life around, every important aspect of yourself, tied to your very soul… what’s a bestowed title compared to that? Zevlor doesn’t believe himself worthy of being a Hellrider anymore, but I think that goes deeper than a string of horrific circumstances making him feel incompetent. As an Oathbreaker, Zevlor likely believes that if he couldn’t uphold that, he can’t uphold anything. Calling himself a Hellrider would be a lie. A fiction. A pathetic, dangerous, insulting fiction at that. It’s like calling yourself the “Hero” while continually failing those around you. Sure, others might insist it’s a title you’ve earned, one you will always carry with you, but you don’t believe them anymore and at a certain point calling yourself that feels worse than embracing the title of “Villain." You don’t want to be the villain… but you want to pretend you’re the hero even less. Pretending is exhausting.

We see this struggle in the many ways that Zevlor fails, or almost fails, to uphold the ideals that originally guided him. I use the term “villain” above deliberately because Zevlor is not merely a former hero-type who’s self confidence has been shattered, or who has been reduced to a civilian, or who thinks themselves useless; he’s actively fighting against temptations that, under less stressful situations, he’d never even consider. I don’t think he is a villain, I think he’s a flawed, struggling victim who sees his own, inevitable mistakes as villainous—and the longer that warped perspective continues the easier it is to fall into bad behaviors. This cycle is perfectly summarized in the autobiography Zevlor keeps by his bed:

“When every passer-by thinks you a thief and a heretic, it is deeply tempting to become one.”

We don’t know if this is Zevlor’s autobiography (as far as I’m aware, anyway) but even if it’s not the words have clearly resonated enough for him to keep them nearby. This particular line paints a pretty clear picture of Zevlor’s struggle. If everyone you meet says you’re devil-kin, vermin, or would-be criminal, isn’t it easier to just give them what they want? If you can’t persuade them otherwise, why put in the effort of trying? If he can’t be Faithful to his God, why have faith in anything at all? If he can’t save these people—setback after setback, mistake after mistake—why is he even making the effort?

Zevlor obviously is trying, very, very hard, which is why such thoughts are merely temptations rather than actual, questionable actions. Still, the Grove gives us numerous examples of the precipice he’s balanced on—and the ways Tav can tip him in one direction or another. You can talk Zevlor down from his anger and get him to acknowledge his disgust in nearly sinking to Aradin’s level. You can also let him boil over and punch the human at a time when the last thing anyone needs is more violence. You can convince Zevlor that there are peaceful ways of stopping Kagha's ritual, or you can help him in pursuing the darker temptation to kill her. It’s a “low” thought, but at his own admission he hasn’t been above entertaining it. Zevlor’s requests for help, though always polite and humble, carry a spark of manipulation in them too. He’s not above leveraging your previously selfless good deed to his advantage—"She owes you for saving this grove"—and if you approach him before speaking with Kagha he’ll claim that the ritual will “be trouble—for all of us.” Except, no? Not really? Tav can make it clear that they’re just here for a healer, they’re only passing through, and as a fighter they are not beholden to the Grove’s sanctuary as the teiflings are. It’s not trouble for everyone involved, yet Zevlor frames it as such in the hopes that (unnecessary) self-interest may motivate you if selflessness fails. Finally, if Zevlor dies in your play-through and you use Speak the Dead on him, he will admit to having “plenty” of secrets, none of which he’ll share. Admittedly, this may be the result of cut content, specifically a story-line in which Zevlor knowingly betrays the tieflings rather than being tricked by the Absolute. Still, the game as it stands is the story we have and within it we’re given a man who is both fighting against these dark urges (ha) and has a past riddled with secrets. If Zevlor is anything, it’s blunt when it comes to his own failings, accurate and otherwise. So how terrible must these secrets be that he outright refuses to divulge them when, generally speaking, most corpses speak freely in death?

However, out of all of this the struggle I’m most intrigued by is the one surrounding the gate. Zevlor represents the tieflings: persecuted refugees, vulnerable civilians, people seeking to survive through cooperation, specifically by joining a community. Kagha represents the druids (or at least a vocal subset of them in Halsin’s absence): bigoted individuals, powerful fighters, people seeking to survive by giving in to their fears, specifically by keeping themselves isolated. This is the moral dichotomy of the Grove and it is symbolized through the gate. Zevlor wants to open it to everyone whereas Kagha wants to close it, permanently.

So isn’t it odd that Zevlor is the one ordering it shut?

When the scene first starts Kanon shouts down that no, he won’t open the gate. Zevlor said that no one is allowed in. Notably, he’s saying this to Aradin and his crew, people that the Grove is at least passingly familiar with, given that Halsin left with them to search the temple. It’s also notable that Zevlor isn’t expecting goblins to attack the Grove. He’s shocked that this is suddenly a problem, brought about by Aradin’s decision—“You lead them here?”— and the entire point of staying at the Grove is that it’s at least comparatively safe. Yes, there have been more attacks lately, but Zevlor seems to be relying on the Grove’s relatively unknown location, as well as the fact that goblins are normally disorganized. The safety is only compromised because Aradin brought a hunting party back, so Zevlor has no reason to expect any visitors, let alone ones that would be a threat.

More importantly, he should welcome such visitors even if he did expect them. After all, that’s precisely what the tieflings are: strangers with no ulterior motives other than to survive. Broadly speaking it makes perfect sense why he'd shut the gates. Zevlor’s first priority is to his people, so anything that keeps them safe is, theoretically, a good thing. But through the lens of his specific characterization and this specific, moral dilemma, it’s an awfully hypocritical decision. Based on everything we’ve seen, our party would not have been welcomed by Zevlor if we’d arrived without danger on our heels and a rescue to endear him to us. So his people should be welcomed, trusted, kept safe, given the benefit of the doubt… but Zevlor isn’t necessarily willing to extend that same trust to others. At the end of the day, he and Kagha want a version of the same thing: safety for those they deem are worthy of it.

It’s precisely these flaws and temptations that make Zevlor such a great character to me, even before he’s tricked by the Absolute. The fandom has leaned hard into Zevlor’s self-loathing and let me tell you, I love it (kisses, hugs, and cookies for you all), but canonically I think he has more reason to fear himself than we tend to portray in the H/C fics. I’m not saying he’s a bad person. Rather, it’s precisely because Zevlor is such a good person that he has the capacity to fall so far. It’s his all-consuming desire to protect his family that leads Zevlor to do and consider so much that a paladin would normally balk at. Denying others the safety you’ve been granted. Subtly manipulating others to do your dirty work. Considering murder.

Zevlor is someone torn between doing the Right Thing and the thing he believes will help those under his care survive. Importantly, when we first meet him he considers these to be two separate courses of action. So can you imagine what goes through his head when he first sees Tav saving everyone and doing so righteously? I think it’s integral to Zevlor’s characterization that the game all but forces you to play the Good Guy in that initial encounter. A cut scene starts, you’re thrown into combat immediately afterwards, and unless you plan to start attacking the Grove members alongside the goblins (which the mechanics discourage through the coloring that distinguishes enemies from allies) you will always finish this fight as Zevlor’s hero. Sure, you can be an asshole afterwards and demand payment. You could already be plotting your betrayal and the slaughter of all the refugees. But in this moment you are nothing but a miracle made flesh in his eyes. Right from the start Tav is succeeding in all the ways Zevlor feels like he's failed. You're the hero.

More specifically, you’re an Every-Man Hero. We might have epic backstories for our Tavs, but within confines of the game you’re largely a nobody when not playing an Origin character. How powerful must that have been to witness then? A total stranger, someone who has no ties to the tieflings or even, depending on your class, any sworn reason to help others, putting their life on the line to save what is most precious to Zevlor? I think a lot about the fact that he never asks Wyll to step in and try to change Kagha’s mind. She owes him just as much as she does Tav—Wyll is an equal participant in that fight and, if your shoddy play style is anything like mine, he likely did more damage—and Wyll is clearly invested in the tiefling’s survival, training the kids as he is. Now, obviously Zevlor’s reticence is largely a question of assigned roles (we need to be the one engaging with Kagha because we’re the protagonist/player) but, like Zevlor’s choice to include himself in the Not a Fighter group, it would have been all too easy to explain this away within the narrative. One comment about how Wyll already tried and failed, or how Kagha doesn’t trust Warlocks, or hell, maybe you don’t meet Wyll in the Grove at all. It’s an easy thing to accomplish and though this is edging more into the realm of headcanon than anything else, I can’t help but think that Wyll isn’t the kind of person that Zevlor could turn to for help right now. Because he’s a folk hero. The Blade of Frontiers, known far and wide for his impressive, selfless deeds. Zevlor is struggling so hard to keep the tieflings safe, tempted by all the unsavory solutions that might achieve that, drowning in self-hatred as his past and current failings catch up with him, wanting nothing more than to be his peoples’ protector:

“I would be a paladin again—with a god’s purpose, a god’s power. Everything I needed to protect my people. And all the while, the cult tortured them. They fought, and ran, and died around me, while I imagined myself their savior.”

Three of the things Zevlor mutters while trapped in the pod are “Hellrider… for… life…,” “Trust… in me…,” and “Children… look away… look at me…” He wants to be the protector, the one children look to for reassurance, he wants his words to Tilly to be a lie and he wants a way to prove that he is a Hellrider for life… but he’s not. At least, Zevlor doesn’t believe it. He lost his titles while Wyll still proudly bears his. Wyll trains the children to fight while Zevlor can only get swept up in anger at them being threatened. The people trust Wyll, adore him, he’s the hero and Zevlor… is not. Not anymore.

It’s too painful to approach Wyll and admit all that. That would be a hell of a blow to Zevlor's pride. But Tav? A stranger? A nobody? The Every-man who had no reason to help or reputation pressuring them, saving them anyway? That’s inspiring. Someone like Tav could be the answer and even, perhaps, the proof that Zevlor could redeem himself. Neither of them are folk heroes, untouchable in their assumed perfection. Tav is a living, breathing example of how the flawed, everyday adventurer can be everything Zevlor strives for.

No wonder he won’t shut up about them in the Shadowlands.

All of this is why it’s so tragic that Zevlor wasn’t given a redemption arc. Sure, you can recruit him for the final battle against the Netherbrain, but there’s no quest to change the cast’s opinion of him—or change Zevlor’s opinion of himself. All his content at the end of Act 2 and Act 3 reinforces that self-hatred.

Let’s make a list, shall we?

Nearly every line of his reunion with Tav has Zevlor painting himself in the worst light possible, from “a lie kinder than the truth” to his refusal to join you because he believes he’ll stab you in the back. You cannot convince him of the Absolute’s manipulation and there’s no response to his belief that such horrors start within the person like, “Of course it does! Because we’re all flawed and equally capable of good and evil deeds! That potential doesn’t make you irredeemable, Zevlor, it makes you mortal!!”

He’s utterly failed as his peoples’ champion and he’s also deemed “unworthy” of being a True Soul. Obviously not being chosen by the Absolute is a good thing, but for a man drowning in self-loathing that’s one hell of a complicated rejection.

Nearly all the tieflings hate him now, all those people he’s been sacrificing his soul to keep safe. I found it particularly devastating that this is one of the rare occasions where nailing a persuasion check doesn’t change the person’s mind. There’s at least one tiefling at Moonrise (I’m drawing a blank on her name) who will believe you when you explain how the Absolute influenced Zevlor, but that doesn’t lead to forgiveness.

Zevlor is deemed unimportant on a literal, narrative level. He is very easy to miss in the pods (I nearly did on my first play-through) and the game does incredibly little to dissuade you from that mistake. Putting aside for a moment that obviously an Origin companion is more significant than a minor NPC, compare this to Shadowheart screaming from her own pod, the game making it abundantly clear that this is someone in need of help—someone worth rescuing. She’ll even say later that you could have run past, more concerned with your own survival and the big picture heroics to bother with her. How must it feel then, if Zevlor ever learns that Tav was there and never stopped for him?

If you do miss Zevlor… oh boy. We’ve probably all seen at least a recording of Orin’s so-called gift. There are plenty of characters who can meet untimely and devastating ends, but very few go through this level of horror. Zevlor—after being held captive, remember—is tortured by God’s Favorite Torturer. He is stripped of his personhood and reduced to a mere “message,” a “pet.” Zevlor is further humiliated in death by being literally stripped of his armor—not just vulnerable in his nakedness, but denied the last symbol of his faith, his status, his power—and it’s always struck me that this is the closest we see to him 'enjoying' an intimate moment, this parody in Orin’s painting. Zevlor is one of the NPC’s most in need of physical comfort and instead he’s forced into this torturous mockery of a sex scene. It also hits hard that when Tav first spots his body the narration says that Zevlor “might almost be sleeping.” Undoubtedly this is a man who isn’t taking good care of himself. He needs a good night’s rest, yet this horrifying trick is all he gets.

As if all this weren’t enough, most of your companion are VERY critical of Zevlor while commenting on his demise. It’s one thing for the tieflings to believe the worst given their ignorance and the fact that they are the ones who suffered from Zevlor’s failure, but your company understands the Absolute and the ways that she gets her hooks in people. Still, Astarion calls him a “wet rag” even if he did deserve better than this. Shadowheart wouldn’t have wished this on him either, but she can’t help but slip in a “no matter his failings.” Lae’zel, often the most blunt, straight up says that he was “always destined to fail his people—and to fail us.” Wyll shakes his head and intones that “even good intentions can lead us down deadly paths.” Only Gale and Karlach stick to mourning the dead rather than airing his shortcomings.

When I spoke to my allies before the final battle Zevlor didn’t have a cut scene. It became clear to me later that this must have been a bug in my play-through, but at the time it only reinforced my feelings that his story was incomplete. Looking on Youtube I’ve found recordings of him saying that he is a Hellrider once more and he would “die a proud man if [he] were to die this day”… but that rings as terribly hollow given where we left him. Last we were together, Zevlor was saying in no uncertain terms that he could not be trusted, he would fail again, he was unworthy of forgiveness. Where did this change of heart come from? It makes perfect sense that he would help Tav in this moment—he begs to be of some use after getting free—but not that he would present himself with such confidence. Within the story as it’s been told this feels… fake. Like Zevlor is putting on a mask to fit the mood of this lively, optimistic party. Which, in turn, gives the “I would die a proud man” line a terrifying implication to me. Does Zevlor expect to die this day? Does he intend to? What would persuade him not to lay down his life here and now? His mission is complete. The tieflings are safe—though not by his hand. There's no hero's welcome waiting for him after this battle. They hate him. He hates himself, and by his own admission the one thing that could still make him proud would be to die at Tav’s side, trying to do one last bit of good. If someone said that to me after everything Zevlor has been through I would keep them far away from the front lines.

(I did, for the record lol.)

I’m not saying anything new then when I go, “Larian, PLEASE add more to his story.” Give us a Zevlor side-quest to renew his oath. Let us invite him to our camp. Something to link the broken man mid-game and the confident fighter at the end so that the latter doesn’t feel like an alarm bell with two legs and a tail. I mean yeah, I get hooked on minor characters so 75% of this is simply me wanting more content of a fave, but I also I do legitimately believe that BG3’s story would benefit from tying up loose ends like this.

Zevlor is a fantastic character, someone who contains an astounding amount of complexity for so little screen time. You have to follow up on that complexity though. If he’s meant to be a purely tragic figure, okay, fine, that’s the ending you get with Orin. But one where he joins you with a smile and reclaims a title he's previously rejected with such fervor requires more work in the middle; a through-line that explains how someone with so much self-loathing learns to think of himself as the hero again.

Because it does all come down to Zevlor’s perception of himself. He was always a hero, flaws and all. He always was and always will be a Hellrider.

The UI knows what's up :)

[faerunsbest]

she looks way better this time around but still not quite right, thanks to @ploompkin forall the killer refs!

imma try again later

[haru-sen]

Through the Gates of Horn and Oak

Caught the BG3 Brain Rot AND a deep love of the tieflings, hithero referred to as "my cabbages!" No, seriously, I've been screaming about them like the guy from ATLA.

Anyway, WIP preview, playing with some Tav X Zevlor, which will eventually be some Zevlor X Halsin, and maybe some poly dynamics. Look, I just want to poke sad old men with a stick and then feed them cheese.

This preview has light spoilers for early Act I side quests. I have not beat the game, I'm still in Act 3, so please be mindful of spoilers. This is spicy but not explicit.

“How do you do it?” you grumbled, perched on a crate and resting your forehead on the cool stone table, your eyes closing as you reviewed your day. “From harpies, to bugbear assassins, to evil druid-controlled child-tormenting serpents, how do you keep these people alive? I mean, honestly, Zevlor, I’ve only been at it for like a day, and I’m exhausted.”

Zevlor, the tiefling-wrangler in question, gave a dry humorless laugh. “You assumed it was easy?”

“No,” you muttered. “I’m just gobsmacked by the sheer variety of ways they get into trouble. You have my deepest respect and my most heartfelt sympathies.” You stayed facedown while you spoke, which might have detracted from the authenticity of the delivery, but alas.

About a meter away, Tilses snorted. “Have you met Mol yet?”

“Have I met Mol?” you laughed, and it might have been a sob. “Have I met the future legendary patron of the Thieves Guild, you mean? Have I met a force of chaos constrained in a tiny tief package? Have I counted my purse half a dozen times today? Where do I even start?”

Zevlor groaned, clearly not interested in delving into that subject.

Tilses laughed. “You should have seen the time she-”

“Tilses, it’s getting late: you don’t have to stay,�� Zevlor said.

“But-”

“Tilses, it’s getting late: you’re dismissed.”

You didn’t need to use your illithid powers to read the subtext in the room. Small talk aside, Tilses didn’t want to leave Zevlor alone with an outsider. Zevlor, however, didn’t seem worried. It could be that he thought you were trustworthy, but it was more likely that he knew that it didn’t matter if she was here. If you decided to turn on him, her presence wouldn’t make a bit of difference.

You could picture his expression easily, that no-nonsense frown, accentuated by the severity of his hellfire eyes and sharp ridged bones. He wasn’t exactly scary, but he had a quiet dignified gravitas that you and Tilses lacked; the kind of man was used to being in charge. Still, Tilses wouldn’t argue, not with you here.

“Understood, sir.”

Military discipline was a hard habit to shake, or so you heard. You smiled as you as her steps faded in the distance and the stone door grinding open and shut. And then there were two.

“I don’t blame you for Mol,” you said. “Obviously, the circumstances are shaping that one, and it would take more resources than you, me, or the entire Grove has to alter her trajectory.”

Zevlor sighed. “...I don’t think I’m capable of discussing Mol’s future right now.” There came a soft grunt and you didn’t have to open your eyes to know that the tiefling was sitting on the table across from you, just a few handspans away. If you lifted your head, he would probably move away, so you stayed there, the slight dissonance of his aura making your ears ring. You didn’t mind though. Things that might have bothered you a week ago couldn’t really match up to a godsdamned mindflayer tadpole swimming through your brain.

Some tieflings possessed a discomforting presence, akin to knowing you were being stalked by an apex predator, or that feeling of something alien crawling across your skin, or that screaming gut instinct that warned you when truly dark magics were abound. It was an involuntary inheritance, a side effect of being part devil, or at least having their human bloodlines tainted by a Hellish pact. But you knew better than most that biology didn’t override character.

Zevlor was a striking model of an Asmodeus tiefling: deep red skin, sharp features, and a pair of thick black horns twisting out of his skull. From what you heard, that strain got well and truly screwed over by their progenitor devil lord’s plotting.

“Would you like something to drink?” A cork popped and there was the clink of metal cups sitting on the table.

“Is it poison?” you asked. “Because I’ve got some lovely wyvern poison of my own. No need to dip into your personal stores.”

“That would be a poor repayment for all the help you’ve given,” Zevlor said, his tone mild.

You didn’t think he was offended. Hard to say. He was difficult to read, unless you decided to use your illithid powers, but then- People didn’t like it when you did that. You didn’t always like it when you did that.

He poured the drinks, and you slowly raised your head, lured out by your own dry mouth.

Zevlor was standing now, he gestured to the uncorked bottle, which sat beside the cups in front of you, all of it available for your inspection.

“Ashaba Dusk?” you asked, sniffing the common wine.

“It’s not so bad,” he said.

It figured that he liked red wines. You wondered if he smoked a pipe too. “You seem like the type to prefer a Gulthmeran Reserve.” It was a dryer red, complex with stronger mineral taste. Something suited for the palate of a stoic older man.

Zevlor’s lips twitched. “Is that so?”

“Am I wrong?”

“I wouldn’t say “no” to a bottle. But finding one out here might prove difficult,” he said as you chose your cup, pretty certain that none of it was poisoned. After all, they still needed your help dealing with the goblins, defanging Kagha, and rescuing the Archdruid. Logic made rationalization easy, even though you had no logical reason to be here alone with this man.

The wine wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t good either. You drank it though. Today had been long, and you weren't going to turn your nose up at his hospitality.

The two of you finished your cups and sat in an almost comfortable silence. Your shoulders lowered incrementally and you basked in his calm company. You were on your second round of refills before he spoke again. “Was there something you wished to discuss?” he asked, fixing that burning stare on you.

Your stomach flip-flopped, but you just raised your cup and took a drink, buying yourself a few seconds to compose your words. “Just enjoying the ambiance.”

His brow furrowed, and he looked around the cave, clearly trying to figure out what you were referring to. The air in the chamber was cool, there were a couple shelves lined with books, and the candlelight was warm and golden. There were no fleshpits, no bloodstains, and nothing was trying to kill you. Best of all, you could not hear Shadowheart and Lae’zel bickering. To be fair, Lae’zel sniped at everyone, but Shadowheart got so damn shrill about it.

“Look, my...friends are nice and all, but sometimes they’re a bit much,” you said. “I’m taking a break from being mediator.”

“Ah,” he said. He rested his chin in his hand, thoughtfully. “I can lend you the chamber. Would you like some privacy?”

You winced. “No, no, I’m enjoying the company too.”

“I see,” he said, brow furrowing momentarily. He refilled your cup, sitting on the edge of the table farthest from you.

You studied the map of Elturel on the desk, while sipping your unpoisoned wine. And then a thought occurred to you much too late. “Oh gods, I’m intruding, aren’t I?” you groaned. “Look, don’t feel obligated. I’ve found a ton of great hiding spots in the Grove. I can take a dip in the sacred pool. There are some very private corners in the library. Hell, I can even go camp out with Mol.”

“...Don’t do that,” Zevlor grimaced.

“You’re right. She absolutely doesn’t need access to wyvern poison. I’ll go sit with Dammon. Aside from the hammering and the smithing, he’s pretty quiet.”

You’re not intruding,” Zevlor said, forcefully. “My hosting skills are simply rusty. I...welcome the chance to practice.”

“Oh,” you said, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. It wasn’t a believable reason in the least, but it did seem that he wasn’t trying to shoo you out. At least, you felt more confident that you were not unwelcome.

Zevlor studied your face. “How do you find Dammon’s company?”

“He’s a good kid and so cheerful in the face of everything that’s happened. I’m impressed by his attitude and his skills,” you said. “He’s helping me keep my tiefling in good shape.” Karlach was a certified badass, but she still needed extra special care. Gods, now that you thought about it, tieflings were like exotic fish, it was a real struggle to keep them alive.

Zevlor nodded. “We’re lucky to have him.” He set the empty bottle down and looked over his shoulder at the worn down storage crates, clearly considering the state of his supplies. He was a lean man, and while the kids were small, it was clear that the adults weren’t letting them go hungry. He likely didn’t have a lot to spare.

“Oh! I’ve got a bottle of Ithbank in my pack – the good kind.” You quickly dug into your bag and pulled it out. You were considering trying to bribe Asterion with it, but honestly, he would probably just turn his nose up at the unimpressive offer. You rummaged around your supply pack and found some cheese wedges, ham, a loaf of sourdough bread, and the treasure you scored while exploring. Looking around furtively, you pulled a small ripe sunmelon out and winked. “I know everyone is eating apples, but I’m sick of things trying to poison me-”

“You’ve mentioned poison very frequently today. How often does this happen to you?” Zevlor asked, looking concerned.

“Well, just this week-” You tried to think back. “The bandits, the goblins, some traps, the swamp apples, Nettie-”

“The healer?” Zevlor sounded alarmed.

“Yeah, because of the whole parasite infection thing,” you muttered, the wine loosening your tongue. Only a select few knew that you were carrying mindflayer tadpoles, and he was one of them since you had to explain to him why you were able to just walk into the Absolute camp without raising the alarm. “Look, the point is, I’m put off apples for awhile.” You pulled out a clean food knife – not a dagger, people applied all sorts of deadly coatings to their weapons – and eyed the cheese.

Zevlor rose and brought over clean plates and more cutlery. There was an economy to his motions, a careful precision to everything, no wasted movement. No tells either. This man tried to keep his cards very close to his chest.

It was very different from the first time you met, when he was shouting orders and coming down from the post-battle fury and the loss of one of his charges. Rage uncoiled all those carefully suppressed feelings and destroyed self control: you understood that feeling all too well. The contrast was interesting, you liked watching him.

You made a nice little plate cubes of cheese and ham, slices of bread, and cut your half of the melon into long wedges. Zevlor made a neat sandwich and chopped his melon into bite-sized chunks. This time you poured the Ithbank while Zevlor watched.

He took a sip. “This is nice. Thank you,” he said quietly.

“It really is,” you smiled, biting into the melon and getting some down your chin. The flavor was honey sweet, the flesh luscious and crisp under your teeth. You happily licked your fingers, slurping down the juice. Fuck, these were so much better than apples, and absolutely worth fighting a bunch of bandits for.

When you looked up, Zevlor was staring down at the table.

“I’m being messy, aren't I?” you muttered, wiping your mouth off. The heady combination of too much wine, sweet melon, and the company was making you sloppy. “Sorry.”

“No, no, you’re fine,” Zevlor coughed and poured himself some more wine, averting his eyes. He carefully bit into his melon cubes. His tongue flicked out and he licked his lips, closing his eyes. “That is delicious,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble, his tail swishing behind him.

Satisfied that he was enjoying his fruit, you devoured your slices too quickly, eating them down to the rind. When you looked up, Zevlor was only half finished, clearly taking his time and really savoring the experience.

“These are better than apples,” he said, glancing down at your empty plate. He speared a chunk of melon and extended his fork. “I don’t know if I can finish all this though.”

A damned lie if you ever heard one, and between Wyll and Asterion, you heard a lot of creative truths. You took a swig of wine and met that burning gaze, your breath catching. “I’ll take a bite,” you said. “But you clearly aren’t eating enough. You really should take better care of yourself, Zevlor.”

You leaned forward, delicately took the melon between your teeth, and pulled it off the tines. You gave the utensil a light parting bite, never looking away from Zevlor’s face.

He swallowed audibly, but his hand did not shake and he did not draw back. He just watched you with narrowed eyes, his jaw clenched, those sharp nails digging into his palms, his tail snapping from side to side. That tension was familiar. You remembered a similar strained look back when he got into a confrontation with that asshole mercenary. Maybe you were pushing him too far.

“Have I offended you?” you asked a little sheepishly. You did just take his food from him while insinuating that he was bad at taking care of himself.

“No,” he said gruffly, his voice an octave lower. “But are you going to claim that you don’t know what you’re doing?”

You smiled, lowering your eyes in amusement. “I’m just enjoying the ambiance.”

Zevlor gave a low exhalation, those orange eyes burning intently as he regarded you. “The situation is difficult enough,” he said, his voice harsh. “Hells, teasing an old man is cruel.”

You blinked. “I’ve seen you fight, Zevlor. I’d hardly call you old.” You met his gaze. “And teasing is only cruel if one doesn’t intend to follow through.” You stood, the wine giving you a cocksure recklessness that you would not possess sober. You leaned over the table, nearly nose to nose with him, baring your teeth in a grin. “I’ll deal with Kagha tomorrow. We’ll figure out the goblins after that. And then, if you’re still interested, let’s do something about it.”

Zevlor stiffened, his eyes widening, his lips parting in shock.

You took a swig of the Ithbank, and slammed it down next to him, lifting one of those calloused hands to your lips. You brushed your mouth against the inside of his wrist and then caught his index finger between your teeth. You sucked it down to the knuckle, tasting the blended salt and sulfur of his skin and the sweet stickiness of the melon. The heat of the digit made you want more than this, but you had to be careful with those sharp nails.

Zevlor’s nostrils flared, those brimstone eyes burning as he gritted his teeth, your name a hoarse curse in his mouth.

“And if you’re not interested,” you said, lowering his hand gently. “That’s fine too. It’s entirely up to you. We can just blame the wine.”

And with that, you turned on your heel and left, before you did something really stupid. It didn’t matter though, the fire was already in your veins and the taste of him lingered on your tongue.

Fic posted on AO3 now.

[drowtastic]

Hi everyone! On this blog I'm going to post and repost a lot of stuff about bg3. I'm also going to write headcanons or short fics (and try to draw fanart!) so feel free to request anything! I have a list of characters/ships that I will write for at the end of this post. This blog is going to have NSFW content, so if you are uncomfortable with that or a minor, please do not interact.

List of Characters (so all the characters that I would write with Tav): Shadowheart, Astarion, Gale, Karlach, Minthara, Halsin, Wyll, Lae'zel, Zevlor, Asharak, Tilses

List of Ships that don't include Tav: Astarion/Karlach, Astarion/Gale, Asterion/Halsin, Shadowheart/Karlach

I am always open for any platonic relationship too!

I will maybe add more in the future as I am still not finished with the game. Feel free to ask me if I will write for a certain ship, even if it is not mentioned on this list. I will tell you then if I will write for it of not. Only female/gender neutral Tav please, I'm most comfortable this way. If a request makes me uncomfortable I will ignore it. It could take some time for me to write something and I will not be able to write every request.

Asks are always welcome.