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neppys-hub · 21 days

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Unbreakable

(Hi all! This is a one-shot I made of Orin capturing my Tav. The big thing with torture is "It is only a matter of time. Everyone breaks." But what if someone does not break? What happens then?

That little prompt inspired this story! I really hope you enjoy, and if you do want a follow up or have any thoughts please, please, please let me know <3)

(My Tav is named Ali! They go by They/Them pronouns, are romanced to Shadowheart, and are a Human Barbarian/Fighter multiclass! Soldier background)

Throughout their life Ali had suffered greatly. From enslavement, to abuse, to torture one hundred times throughout, and even the desecration of their body.

Ali survived the death of their closest friend, someone closer than family. Survived genocide. Ali had survived every form of wound, physical or magical, and betrayals as well.

These thoughts went through their head as they laughed. They laughed and laughed, the raspy sound echoing through the large and hollow space of this stone chamber. Their hidden prison. The chains shackling them to the ground, both by their wrists and ankles, hurt with every movement, bit at their bleeding and raw skin.

“Are you entertained?” Orin the Red asked. Ali looked up, blinking out the blood in their eyes and grinning. Oh, that felt good. When was the last time Ali had laughed so freely? Had thrown their head back and let that song be heard?

“You're a pathetic excuse for a torturer,” Ali said. Then they cried out as Orin kicked them across the face. Days ago, Ali could have taken such a blow without so much of a whimper. Now, after all of Orin’s special treatment, it was too hard to hold back. It was unnecessary. They groaned and their head fell back down. The taste of blood, a familiar friend at this point, greeted them freshly.

“Why do you fight, my toy?” Orin asked, in that slow, slithering tone of hers. Ali didn’t have to look up to picture that grin on her face. “Surely, you realize it’s pointless.”

“Pointless…” Ali mumbled in a daze. Another chuckle escaped their lips. “How could it be pointless?” The human looked up, brown eyes meeting Orin’s blank ones. “You’re still here.”

The Bhaalspawn hissed and grabbed Ali by the throat, pulling them up effortlessly. Ali groaned as the chains pulled taught, digging freshly in their already worn and marred skin.

“I live for your bloodshed. I take pleasure in your pain. I revel in your breaking,” She hissed, sharp nails digging into Ali’s neck. “Your prolonging only makes my worship to Bhaal greater.”

“Really?” Ali choked out as she dropped me, pain shooting up their knees as they hit the stone floor. “Your god of murder delights in this? Keeping me alive?”

Now it was Orin’s turn to laugh. Ali sighed as her own sound, so sadistic, so pure in its joy, so clearly and profanely insane, echoed throughout this cursed chamber.

“You think you can fool me? Trick me? Have me turn you into a beautiful work of art before I take what I need?” She asked. Her hand, with surprising gentleness, lifted Ali’s gaze upon her. “You may not be dead, little hero, but your pain is art in and of itself.” She leaned in closer, whispering sensually in Ali’s ear. “And each day you choose to resist…is another day of ecstasy for me, and my lord.”

Fuck, Ali thought. They had waited out this torture for god’s know how long. At first, it was to escape. When escape proved impossible they held out for rescue. When rescue became unlikely they held out for this. Days of torture to get Orin feeling frustrated and pressured. Ali gave her nothing, absolutely nothing, and waited until she seemed to lose patience. All to die. To be free of this chamber and take their secrets to the hells with them.

Yet Orin was too smart for that. The barbarian fighter looked up and watched as she walked around the room. She observed this art, dug through that pile of meat, or muttered about which tools to use. She liked to do this, and often, as a way to build her suspense. A way to have her victims beg for something, anything, to happen. The suspense often proved as painful as the torture itself. But not for Ali. No, they were familiar with pain. Familiar with chains, and abuse, and manipulation. So they took a deep breath and closed their eyes, waiting. Delighting in the respite her little games provided.

How much time had passed when their eyes finally opened? Sleep had snuck up on the hero and Orin had, seemingly, allowed it. Blinking the fatigue out of their eyes Ali looked around. Where was she? Nowhere to be seen. The room was dark, silent, and empty. Not even a candle flickered.

“Alright,” Ali huffed. As they tried every night, and with every moment of privacy, Ali pulled on their chains to no avail. Then they felt the floor around them. Perhaps a loose stone, a nail, even a bone from one of the many corpses might provide aid. Nothing. Lastly, Ali prayed. They had never been one for prayer. After all, they had survived from childhood and onward on their own merits. But after meeting Shadowheart, freeing the Nightsong, befriending both Dame Aylin and Isobel Thorm, Ali had a feeling. The backing of a higher being. The strength granted by the divine.

And so even in this hell’s pit of a room the human closed their eyes, looked down, and began to mumble a prayer. For the first time in their life Ali had tried to show faith. May Selune hear their prayers and save them. Send them help. Send the faithful that traveled in Ali’s own camp, the aasimar that Ali had fought with and saved. And every day that faith felt fruitless. Stupid, even, as no rescue came. No light shone mercifully in the dark. No divine strength surged through their bones. Not even a trickle of relief from the pain that seemed to wrack Ali’s body their every waking moment.

“Moonmaiden, hear me,” Ali whispered respectfully. “For all I have done for you, I now ask you for aid, I lower my head to you. Help me. Show me my faith is warranted, and have in me another follower.”

The words were not lies. Ali could have sworn they had formed a connection to the goddess. Not just through the clerics and the adventures, but in themselves. When Ketheric Thorm had nearly sent Ali to the grave? They felt the moon’s light stay death’s hand. Selune had seen them. Had to have seen them.

Right?

“Moonmaiden protect us…” a shocked voice mumbled. Ali’s head shot up. That voice was not Orin’s. No. The human bit their lip, waiting for a sign, another word, anything to confirm this wasn’t a hallucination.

“What a monster,” Shadowheart’s voice clearly said, traveling through the room. “How many bodies are down here?”

“Shadowheart…” Ali mumbled. Then louder. “SHADOWHEART!”

Truly, a blessing sent by the goddess appeared before Ali. The human let out a shaky laugh as their beloved appeared in the shadows, sword glowing with light in her hand. The cleric’s face twisted with shock as she ran to Ali and fell to her knees, embracing her.

“Is it you?” Ali asked hoarsely. “Is it really you?”

“Yes, lover, it is me,” she said firmly. Her soft hands cupped Ali’s face and, ignoring the blood and damage, kissed Ali. It felt like a wave of tranquility passed over them. It lasted an eternity. It was worth the wait, Ali thought.

“Time to go,” I gasped as she pulled away. “Orin visits often, and we cannot beat her alone. Where are the others?”

“I’m not sure,” the cleric answered, setting down her sword and checking out the locks of Ali’s shackles. “We came down here together and- and one by one we’ve been separated.”

“Shit,” Ali hissed, heart pounding. “We need to find them again before she does. She will kill them. She will use them.”

“Use them?” Shadowheart asked, turning to Ali with surprise. “How?”

“She’s been trying to turn me to her side, to break me, and use me to end you all and Gortash. I’ve made it this far but- but I can’t-”

Shadowheart nodded in understanding.

I can’t watch you all die, Ali thought to themself, head hanging low. Orin had threatened Ali’s companions several times now. She had filled their head with promises to take them, to do to them as she had to Ali until they begged the fighter to submit. And every time Ali forced down the bile rising in their throat and pretended that was alright. They’d tell Orin it didn’t matter. That they wouldn’t break. That their friends could and would kill her, even if Ali themself rotted down here forever. And they had meant it, but…Ali knew this was their one weakness. Before the Nautiloid they had always been alone. Since the Nautiloid, Ali had forgotten what loneliness was.

And if Orin decided to use them, to make them suffer, what would Ali do?

“A-ali?” Shadowheart suddenly gasped. The human looked up immediately, heart stopping as they saw blood dripping from the cleric’s lips.

“No…” Ali mumbled as she stood and stumbled back, hit with an invisible pain. Then they screamed, voice full of desperation and anger, full of heartbreak. “NO!”

Ali watched helplessly as Shadowheart coughed up blood, grasping uselessly at her throat as something took her. She reached out to Ali with wide, scared eyes, and her mouth opened.

“I love-”

Ali’s eyes closed and they screamed as the invisible force twisted Shadowheart’s head and broke her neck. They screamed as the body fell to the floor. They screamed, and screamed, and screamed until their throat bled and their voice was gone. Then they screamed some more.

“Orin I’ll…I’ll kill you…” Ali promised, panting, coughing up blood with every word. “I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Will you now?” Orin’s voice asked. Ali growled and pulled against the chains uselessly, looking around for the murderess in the dark. “I don’t think you can.”

For the first time in nearly thirty years Ali felt horror. Horror as the corpse of Shadowheart began to twist, and crack, and stand. Ali watched as it stood before them, neck broken, eyes empty, and blood dripping from her mouth. It stumbled closer. Then closer.

“Orin you sick fuck! Stop this!” Ali yelled, cringing away as the corpse of their lover made it within one foot of them.

“Very well,” Shadowheart said, her dead lips speaking in Orin’s voice. Ali watched incredulously as their lover’s body began to twist, and crack, and shape once more until the gray skin of Orin reappeared, her signature sadistic smile stretching ear to ear with pleasure. She leaned in close and Ali, for the first time, looked away from her hideous gaze.

“Gods be damned,” Ali said, relief and dread filling their heart. “It was you the entire time.”

“Of course, my sweet, sweet toy,” Orin cooed. “You thought only you could bide your time? Play these games?” She laughed maniacally. “How do you feel? Now that I know what to do. Now that I have fooled you and taken what I need?”

“Kill me,” Ali said, quietly. Then they ordered it. Louder. “Kill me!”

“Tch, tch, tch,” she said with a waggle of her finger, running a hand down their bloody cheek that made them shiver. “I still need you- You see, I’m going to kill your friends. One. By. One. I will do it in front of you. I will loosen your bonds and you will try to save them. How could you not, hm?” Her voice became almost…aroused as she gripped my chin and forced Ali to look at her. “You will fail them. Each and every single one of them. You will watch them die hopelessly. And then, when you have witnessed all of this…”

“Don’t,” Ali hissed, trying to bite her hand. She cackled and pulled it away, looking them up and down.

“When you have witnessed all of this? I will bring you that lover of yours. I will make her suffer everything I gifted to you. I will make what I did to you look like a game. How long will she have to beg and plead for you to agree? How long until she breaks and betrays you herself?”

Ali exhaled deeply. They felt so tired. So very tired. Orin reveled in her triumph, looking down at them with pride and power unmatched by any in this city. Pride, power, and arrogance.

It was quick to disappear as Ali laughed. Not the same laugh as before. No, before it was to taunt her. Before it was to feel relief in any form. Before, despite the circumstances, it seemed normal. Now, Ali laughed with the gleeful sadism of Orin, with the same insanity. Ali laughed with a broken heart filled with only evil thoughts and revenge. Ali felt themselves revert back to the person they were before the Nautiloid. Heartless. Because this was the only way to not give Orin what she wanted, even if she managed to kill everyone at camp.

“Everybody breaks,” Ali said, breathing heavily. “That is what they say about torture. In books of fiction and stories told by bards. Everyone breaks.” Ali took a raspy breath. “But what does the torturer do if they don’t? If they lie, if they go insane, if they hold out just long enough. Hm? What does the torturer do if, after finding every crack and every weakness…their victim does not break?”

Ali looked up at Orin, standing as best they could in their shackles and grinning maniacally from ear to ear. Their face was a mirror of the Bhaalspawn.

“Do. Your. Worst. And when everyone is dead, when I’ve watched them suffer, and cry, and beg, and I still do not break. When I sacrifice our lives and you still get nothing. Then, you will realize.”

“I am unbreakable.”

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neppys-hub · 21 days

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not to be controversial bc I know this is like…not in line with shifting opinions on fanfic comment culture but if there’s a glaring typo in my work I will NOT be offended by pointing it out. if ao3 fucks up the formatting…I will also not be offended by having this pointed out…

‘looking forward to the next update’ and ‘I hope you update soon!’ are different vibes than a demand, and should be read in good faith because a reader is finding their way to tell you how much they love it. I will not be mad at this.

‘I don’t usually like this ship but this fic made me feel something’ is also incredibly high praise. I’m not going to get mad at this.

even ‘I love this fic but I’m curious about why you made [x] choice’ is just another way a reader is engaging in and putting thought into your work.

I just feel like a lot of authors take any comment that’s not perfectly articulated glowing praise in the exact manner they’re hoping to receive it in bad faith.

fic engagement has been dropping across the board over the last several years, and yes it’s frustrating but it isn’t as though I can’t see how it happens. comment anxiety can be a real thing. the last thing anyone wants to do is offend an author they love, and that means sometimes people default to silence.

idk where I’m going with this I guess aside from saying unless a comment is outright attacking me I’m never going to get mad at it, and I think a lot of authors should feel the same way. ESPECIALLY TYPOS PLZ GOD POINT OUT MY TYPOS.

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neppys-hub · 21 days

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The secret wish is to write a fanfic that someone loves so much they make fan art of it, or to create a drawing that someone creates an entire fic based off of it.

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neppys-hub · 22 days

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[ Chewsday ] Creeping up behind Leiden, Tabitha made it a point to remain completely silent as she lurked behind them. After a few moments she took advantage of the fact that they were blissfully unaware of her presence and latched onto their shoulder with her teeth. She growled quietly, twisting her head this way and that like a gator trying to roll its prey beneath swamp waters.

Leiden's eyes went wide with surprise, standing straight up as she yells and curse. Her arms reach behind her but like a bad itch she cannot reach the attacker. She twists and turns. "Tabitha! TABITHA! STOP THAT! Why are you- HEY!" She loses her footing and they both fall to the ground in a writhing mess, the elf trying in vain to tug her companion off.

#I DIDNT REALIZE WHAT THIS WAS #i cackled so hard when i read it #ily bubbly this was hilarious #also smash cut to leiden sitting by the fire annoyed while still being clung to #bg3 rp #bg3 prompts #bg3 tav #bg3 ocs

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neppys-hub · 22 days

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Despite everything, it's still you.

It was a random moment. A glance in the wrong direction. In a temple I had never been in. In a fight I hadn't chosen.

I found myself separated from my companions; Karlach, Wyll, and Shadowheart. To make things worse, I walked into a party of drunk Kobolds trying to light me on fire. To make things worse, I had to kill them all alone.

The face Shadowheart gave me when she saw the blood on my armor. I nearly shuddered.

And so there I was, walking down a hallway alone to a pool of water we had seen outside, when I saw it. A mirror. And in the mirror a strange figure stared back at me. They had my curly hair. They had my tan skin. They had my tired face. They were also covered in blood.

"Despite everything..."

It's still me.

And like a dam that had broke, memories of my past flooded my mind. Things I refused to dwell on, people I chose not to think of anymore. All those deaths, all those failures, all those moments of weakness. All those blood filled victories. Everything I had locked away inside of me, all the darkness of my past.

"Ali?" Shadowheart's soft voice called, and I turned to see her enter the hallway.

"Oh." She blinked in surprise, one hand going to cover her mouth.

I turned back to the mirror and saw it. I saw myself crying. When was the last time I had cried? My face did not move as tears silently cut through the blood on my cheeks, dripping to the floor beneath me. I turned back to Shadowheart only to feel her arms wrap around me. She hugged me tightly.

No words were shared. Instead, for the first time in years, a sob escaped my lips.

Where had all that time gone?

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neppys-hub · 22 days

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Leiden huffed at the threat, seeming to hold little concern as her eyes wandered around your camp. Her brow raised as she took in your undead, watching them as they watched her. Finally, the High Elf inhaled deeply and sighed. She had, at least, already seen similar horrors in this gods forsaken land. Had survived a couple too. Silently, she settles herself across from you. Her expression relaxes a fraction as she takes the fire in. Her eyes remain on it, the red orbs dancing with flames, as she speaks to you. "You hold interesting company," the elf said, almost a question. "For such an...approachable individual." Her words were not friendly nor insulting, but cautious as she attempted to measure your character. Her hand slide to retrieve a rag as she began to wipe the blood from her wound.

Leiden was panting, as if she had just been running, and a bloody gash was visible on her temple. She looked upon the fire and the woman with surprise and distrust. The Elf had found nothing but trouble since she stumbled into the Shadowlands, and expected nothing less here. Still, she was tired. It would be a lie to say the fire was not inviting. And the prospect of a friendly face? Even for a night? It was more than tempting. She took a deep breathe and approached only a few steps, giving Tabitha a suspicious look. "I wasn't either," She replied, eyeing Tabitha up. "What are you doing here?" She remained at a safe distance, clutching the flat iron knuckles that decorated her hands. No movement was made to threaten or attack you, but it was clear she was ready to act at a moments notice, her adrenaline running high.

#neppys hub #bubblybabins #bg3 rp #Leiden Del Ceibo

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neppys-hub · 25 days

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@neppys-hub semi-plotted starter!

In nature silence marked the approach of a predator as smaller, wiser creatures hid away in their borrows. The silence in the Shadow-Cursed lands was far more severe, one could hear a pin drop and so the crunch of dry dirt beneath boots quickly captured Tabitha's interest.

The steady steps is all the confirmation she need that it is not one whose poor soul had been claimed by the curse. So when she speaks it is with a friendliness that is far too rare in these parts.

“I did not expect company," Tabitha's airy tone stood in stark contrast to the grim state of the world about them. Not even the sun's warm glow could penetrate the thick clouds, Lathander's light could not protect them in this place.

It was fortunate that she had long since gotten accustomed to such misery, the shadows were comforting thanks to her needing to be shielded from the prying eyes of civilization. She doesn’t quite make eye contact, her gaze remained fixed on her fire as she continued to work on brewing a fresh pot of tea.

“I wasn’t expecting to see anyone out here….” she goes on as if it wasn’t more likely that they were an enemy than a possible friend, “but I could make you some tea."

#bubblybabins

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neppys-hub · 1 month

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Tav number...4? I think?

I present to you: Aksa Guirguis!

Aksa is an original character of mine from a story I'm writing! She went through a couple iterations but I quite love what she became! Class: Warlock! (She is my first magickal class actually! I really used to avoid magic sksks)

Subclass: The Great Old One (in the original story she gets her powers from the founder of her nation, who turned into a goddess when she perished in the mortal realm!)

Background: Sage! Aksa is an explorer, curious since birth, and always asking questions.

Preferred Weapon: To be determined! I'm thinking Scimitars, maybe?

Romance: Aksa is a free spirit! Settling down never became a thing- Not because she didn't want to, no, but because her work keeps her moving. Maybe she hasn't found the right person? She has however bedded her fair share of people, allowed herself to be wooed and taken out, and has a couple lovers she remembers fondly and misses, always imagining the "what could've been". In BG3 she'd easily be poly and fuck around at first, but perhaps by Act 3 a more serious situation would settle?

Pronouns + Sexuality: Aksa uses She/They pronouns! She is certainly a lesbian, and polyamorous~

Her story!

Aksa had started out as a Paladin. Well, wanting to be a Paladin. To join the sacred order of her people, those who were tasked to protect the kingdom from threats outside and within, founded by the kingdoms first leader Catalina Fuentes. But she never was a good student- She always chafed under the strict rules and code of the Paladins of Catalina.

Instead, Aksa became the first Warlock of the goddess. Being bestowed with her power, and making a promise to uphold her values and protect her home, Aksa travels the world using her abilities to protect herself and others, learning all she can about the world and giving that knowledge to her isolated people.

Perhaps one day Aksa will train other Warlocks blessed by Catalina Fuentes, first Queen and Goddess of the River, but for now? She is alone. And she doesn't mind that...

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neppys-hub · 1 month

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Third Tav post~!

Leiden Del Ceibo.

(Left side is Act 1 Leiden, right side is Act 3 Leiden!) Leiden is an old character of mine- She has had many iterations and none of them ended well. That broke my heart so I brought her back in DND, and use her in BG3! Class: Rogue/Monk Multiclass Subclass: The Way of Four Elements/Assassin

Background: The Haunted One (She was also a noble in her past, but for BG3 the durge fits best) Preferred Weapon: Unarmed! (One of her iterations use iron knuckles!)

Romance: I'm not sure yet! Most likely Shadowheart because they both share a remarkably similar stories (in some ways, and despite me creating Leiden nearly a decade ago lmao). Minthara is likely but I actually haven't gotten Minthara in my main playthrough!

Pronouns + Sexuality: Leiden uses She/They pronouns! She is a total lesbian- Girls, girls, GIRLS for her. She does identify as a queer woman.

Like most of my characters right now Leiden in BG3 is a version of a much different original character! So her story is vague at times to fit the world easier.

Leiden Del Ceibo was a child when her family was run out of their land. Nobles fallen from grace- She remembers the caravan flanked by gold and red standards, family, and supplies as they escaped their ancestral home. She remembers the guards in shining gold and red armor riding along for their protection. And she remembers when the cultists emerged from the shadows and ambushed the convoy.

The slaughter was tremendous. Fire and steel burnt or cut down her guards. Her parents fought bravely, took many with them, but could not protect her. The last three standing were her mother, her sister Calia, and herself. "We will mold them," The cult leader promised. "Make them our weapons to enact our will long after we are gone." In hopelessness Leiden's mother, to spare at least one of her daughters that fate, slit Calia's throat. She was merely five years old. Leiden screamed as the cultists attacked, ending her mother's life but unable to save Calia. Leiden would have to do. She would grow in a household of magic, abuse, and manipulation, becoming exactly what the cult leader had promised: A weapon. Leiden wielded fire to enact the cults will- Assassinating all who opposed their god. Eventually, her fellow Cultists died out. Most were Human, after all, and she was long lived. She'd continue being the instrument of their will for many years until she ran into surviving family members. These people reminded her of who she was, brought her back into the fold, and gave her a chance to start over.

And it failed.

With nothing and no one else in the world for her Leiden roams, drifts, and searches for a purpose. It is during this time period that she finds herself trapped on the Nautiloid.

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neppys-hub · 1 month

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My First Tav~!

Hi all~! I'm making a bio like posts for my characters so I can remember/keep track of their details and use them for writing!!! (Plus that makes them easier to show off <3 ) We're starting with Ali.

Ali was my first playthrough and sorta still relates to my edgy teen self inserts? But isn't an actual self insert of myself (as the character and myself have changed so much~) Class: Barbarian + Fighter Multiclass!

Subclass: Berserker/Battle Master

Background: Soldier Preferred Weapon: Any weapon they can get their hands on at any time. Their preferred weapon always changes based on upkeep, usefulness, and strength. Romance: In my first playthrough we got Shadowheart! So in stories I might stick to Ali x Shadowheart, but I like Karlach as another choice. Pronouns + Sexuality: Ali is born a man! Throughout their story they question their identity and become nonbinary! Towards the end they decide on She/They pronouns and are happy presenting masculine or feminine! Ali is also poly and demisexual. Ali has suffered greatly in their past and this has led to them becoming a quiet and introverted figure. Serious and threatening are two words to describe them. A young boy during the Second Sundering, Ali's people were attacked, enslaved, and hunted down by a Cult of High Elves who, like their Drow kin, had turned to Lolth. They believed their atrocities and sacrifices to her would save them from the world apparently ending. Ali managed to escape and lived in the wilds growing up, learning to fight and survive out of necessity, trial, and error. Eventually, after years of of this, Ali would return to their land and with a small army and their own group of adventurers to free their people, and after this the group would split up, living their own lives. For years, Ali roamed purposeless. They felt their life had no more meaning after achieving their own freedom, only growing up to survive and kill. During this time they travelled and learned of the world, begrudgingly helping others when needed, especially those oppressed or enslaved.

It isn't until the events of Baldur's Gate 3, when they're captured on the Nautiloid, that Ali finds new meaning to their life, through their companions, allies, and the fight against the Absolute which so clearly angered them. Having sworn to free the mindflayer spawn, such as themself, through death or victory Ali has fully dedicated themselves to destroying the Cult of the Absolute once and for all.

Ali lives by simple tenets- Kill evil. Freedom over all else. And honesty. They are as blunt as Karlach or Lae'zel, but with more of a neutral morality. They do not distinguish evil and good beyond an individuals own actions. For example, they always supported Shadowheart's path to become a Dark Justiciar, showing unending loyalty to someone close to them and respect for their beliefs. But when Ali saw the Nightsong she convinced Shadowheart to not kill her and would have fought her (at that point) lover herself to save Aylin.

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