#and as the gobbos say
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Faye, please eat.
............
perhaps
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New profile pic :3
#shhh hes trying to draw a straight line#sona#gobbo sona#goblin#digital art#my art#the shirt says stud on it btw
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I made asty a bard in my current save because bb durge is a rogue/ranger (and tbh I would rather use a different companion but alas my options are limited) and my favorite thing about bards is playing silly little songs during combat
and so i gave asty a violin and as we're raiding the grove he's playing it and it felt like the god damn titanic which just made everything a million times worse I HATE raiding the grove ;~;
#i did contemplate saving it#just bc of the specific drow dialogue you can have with minthara#but we're here to do different things#and we're here to be evil and indulge our blood lust#also can i just say too that raiding the grove is actually a cooler fight#than killing the gobbo leaders#is it more depressing? 1000000%#but idk the music is cool and calling reinforcements is cool#just seeing hordes of allies showing up is always fun#bg3 rambling
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sat… waiting for weah
#I was ready to say westimmy…but wes isn’t starting…#anyways weah gobbo era im tearing this up im sat!
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Don't be so upset. I mean, you're the one who initiated the cuddle pile.
~~~
I was in a goblin mood! Featuring Graham but gob (@thewatercolours) and a few other gobbins, including a helmetless forward curl goblin hoohoo
#- I'm actually extremely happy with the lineart for this one#- I may say this many times#- but this is my favorite lineart in a traditionally hehe#kings quest#fanart#traditional art#goblin graham au#goblin appreciation blog#- giving graham that gobbo armor treatment!
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Me: getting ready for bed and changing from a thong to comfy panties, "I'll be a slut tomorrow. I go to bed in comfort"
#bd/sm ddy#bd/sm bby#imma lil goblin#i sleep in comfort#thongs are sexy but the devil#the devil is sexy so this logic tracks#gobbo thots#im home alone why did i say this outloud
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If your some of your goblins don’t speak in terrible cartoony gobbledygook in Common but intelligently, suavely or charming in Goblin then I fear you’re missing a trick in your Games Mastery
Gobbo in Common: Craig say you go there bad big bad go boom! Boom!
Gobbo in Goblin: Oh thank the gods you understand me. I skipped Common to fast track my chemistry masters. Enchanted to meet you but we have a dastardly plot to foil. If you can take me to the detonator I’m sure I can defuse it. It was… my design after all… *smoulders in biochemist*
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...
Gobbo says you kidnapped her.
I think that’s an understatement
or an overstatement?
maybe it’s just a statement!
anyways we’re up in my licorice tower which I just constructed and started eating!
she made me a beautiful licorice ball gown and has been waiting on you to come and get her for a while!
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HEY ive seen talk here & there about how EA!wyll is way different from how he is now. can you tell me what the rewrite changed about his character, im so so curious
AAAHHHHH YES. So okay. I tried to break this down into more digestible pieces and I'm working almost entirely off my memory so please forgive (and for anyone who's reading and knows better, feel free to correct) any errors.
Wyll's story - originally Wyll was a son of house Eltan (relatively minor noble house compared to Ravengard but still very well-known, they founded the Flaming Fists). He was sent to the Fists as punishment for stealing (this was seemingly where his strained relationship with his father began, rather than the pact with Mizora - which came later rather than him defending Baldur's Gate at seventeen). Apparently he didn't excel there because in addition to the disastrous goblin attack that led him to treating with Mizora in the first place, one of the Flaming Fists talks shit about him when you meet her, the gobbos call him Captain Failure, etc.
Wyll's personality - he was quicker to anger, especially as it concerned goblins. His whole vendetta was against goblins: they killed people, stole his eye (and were HOLDING ONTO IT IN THE CAMP) rather than him losing it during the battle with the Cult of the Dragon. He was ready and willing to torture the goblins at the windmill on the off chance that they had intel on the one that took his eye, and when you met Spike Wyll would tadpole into your brain with an eager LET'S KILL THEM. His Blade of Frontiers persona was just a little more obviously put-on, like he was clinging to it out of insecurity.
EA Wyll was more prone to puns and saying weird shit than even his final release self (which is saying something bc Wyll as he is now loves puns & whimsy & being a huge cheeseball).
Wyll's romance - EA Wyll was willing to get physical sooner, even though Mizora's presence cast a dark cloud on the romance. She'd interrupt your moment of intimacy using Wyll's sending stone (though it's a bit ambiguous whether it's actually her or Wyll's conflicted feelings toward her that makes him hesitate). You can tell he's sort of playing the suave hero during the scene - "may I kiss you?", "where were we?", leaning in and smirking, the whole bit. You basically had the choice to 1) fuck him so good he forgot all about Mizora or 2) hold him through the night and just make him feel safe and protected, which surprises and pleases him - "I'm used to being the hero. Not so used to needing one."
Mizora - she was kidnapped by goblins in EA and that was her whole rescue mission, rather than being spirited away to Moonrise. Wyll in final release explicitly states that he's never slept with Mizora - "I'm really not that kind of man" - but in EA there was some indication that their relationship was physical, that he wanted her despite himself.
#hope this helps!#tackypies#asks#baldur's gate 3#wyll ravengard#early access#baldur's gate 3 early access
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EXCUSE ME BED WHO AND WHAT
doing an Astarion playthrough, and when poisoning the gobbos,,, ASTARION CAN SAY WHAT?? I think this is Astarion specific?? I don’t know but either way 😭😭
#I was SHOOK#For a good five minutes#I don’t even#omg#astarion#astarion ancunin#bg3 shitpost#bg3#baldur's gate 3
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I've always loved the model designs for the gloomspite Gitz, they all just have that unhinged gobbo energy, when the opportunity to paint a loon boss came my way I couldn't say no, this fellow took just a little under 12hrs most of it spent on the mushrooms 😅
Whilst I encourage just getting stuff done and painted, I have to from time to time flex my painting skill and push a little so I don't end up burning out from mediocrity
#wargaming#warhammer age of sigmar#gloomspite gitz#goblincore#goblins#warhammer fantasy#age of sigmar#mini painting#miniatures#model painting#games workshop#warhammercommunity#painting
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Greensleeves
Chapter Nine: In A Week
Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3
Wordcount: 3.1k
Warnings: Description of a dead body
The party must explore a cave to earn passage through the blighted village on the path to the goblin camp. Shadowheart and Xaph share their opinions on the gods
Read on AO3
Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
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Conflict resolution is, admittedly, not one of Xaph’s strong points. Not with people, anyway. Historically, she hasn’t been a smooth talker or a particularly good liar. Luckily for her - and more importantly for Astarion - their companions are surprisingly understanding about there being a vampire amongst their numbers. For now, at least. As long as he stays away from their necks. Shadowheart grabs Xaph’s chin and wrenches her head to the side to examine the bite there, but in doing so breaks the skin and makes it bleed again. Xaph bats the cleric away and presses her thumb to the wound, her other fingers loosely around her neck,
“It’s fine. And now we know, yeah? Breakfast, anyone, before we move on?” she asks. Reluctant, the group disperses to strap on armour or find a place to sit for breakfast. Gale warns Astarion that he would taste simply awful, and Astarion says something quippy and smart that Xaph doesn’t hear but makes Gale laugh. Lae’zel watches with narrowed eyes as Xaph lifts her bloodied thumb to her mouth and licks it clean, but says nothing. Shadowheart digs out their map and sets it on the ground, pinning it down at the corners with rocks. Over sausages - burned black as charcoal for Xaph, Lae’zel wrinkling her nose at the idea of purposefully burning food you intend to eat - the party plot their next move. They haven’t been fortunate this past week. They know where the goblin camp is, or in Wyll’s words they’re pretty damn sure, but there’s a village occupied entirely by goblins in the way. For the last few days, the party has been split in two. Wyll, Gale and Astarion have been negotiating safe passage through the village and to the camp if possible and however uncomfortable Wyll might be with goblins and lying, they’ve almost cracked them. Xaph, Shadowheart and Lae’zel have been scouting the woods around the village in case there’s a way around but they’ve had no such luck. Their one lead is that the goblins have offered them safe passage if the party retrieves something from a cave they’ve marked out on the party map.
“And they won’t say what’s in the cave?” Xaph asks around a mouthful of bread. Table manners had not been a key lesson in her mountain education. Wyll, however, chews his food and drinks his water before he answers,
“No, they just kept saying there was a bird monster, but there’s a lot of things that could be. A strix, for example.”
“A hippogriff.” Gale suggests.
“A cockatrice. Or a boobrie.” Xaph adds.
“Oh, say those again.” Astarion smiles. She doesn’t indulge him, pushing herself up onto her knees to lean forward and see the map better.
“Could be the owlbear that killed that man, the true soul,” Shadowheart points out, though she waves a mocking hand at the phrase true soul, “It’s close enough.”
“You may be right,” Wyll admits after chewing the thought and his breakfast over, “Edowin and his siblings believed in the Absolute. Perhaps they were looking for the same thing the gobbos are.” The derogatory term doesn’t suit his mild-mannered tongue, and Astarion notes the twitch of Xaph’s tail.
“Goblins.” She corrects. Again.
“May I ask,” Wyll starts, “Why you insist on that?”
“It’s belittling,” the sounds of the word pair delightfully with her pointed teeth, “You don’t call me hells-touched, and there are as many tieflings with misguided morals as goblins.”
“I take your point.” Wyll says, but that’s all.
Their fast is broken, their camp collected and the ashes of their fire scattered. The map indicates that they should go north, so north they go. Xaph puts herself at the back of the pack, bow strung but not drawn. Astarion is badgering Wyll at the head of the party and Gale has once again put himself between Lae’zel and Shadowheart. Their tadpoles curl quietly in their heads, swimming leisurely in time with one another as various members of the party fall in and out of step. The suspected cave is back by the bridge where they’d encountered Raphael, and he’s either teasing Xaph with the smell of sulphur or she’s imagining it.
“Xaph? Take a squint at this?” Wyll asks. The party have reached the mouth of the cave. At Gale’s soft touch at her elbow, Xaph pulls her attention away from the bridge and towards the tracks Wyll is indicating. She crouches and then lets her knees sink into the mud. Mud is good for tracks, they hold the shape well and then bake hard in the sun. These are like bear tracks, but the fingers of the paw are too long.
“Feather.” Lae’zel presents Xaph the thing. It’s the length of her forearm and holds a very distinct pattern, white on one side and striped brown on the other. Xaph swipes the thing under her nose and something undeniably sweet pushes into her nostrils. Owls smell weird.
“Owlbear. Definitely.” Xaph states, sliding the feather into the quiver at her hip.
“Oh, I’m not going in there,” Astarion proclaims, and the entire party turn to look at him, “Owlbears love elves, everyone knows that. We’re disgustingly tempting morsels.”
“Coward.” Shadowheart snorts.
“Alright then, you go and deal with it.” Astarion sits himself on a rock as a secondary statement. He will not be moved.
“An owlbear. It is what I think, isn’t it?” Lae’zel asks, “Not some tongue twister that isn’t what it means?”
“It’s what you think it is,” Xaph tells her, “But I need you to stay out here with Astarion.” Intruding on an owlbear’s space requires delicacy, and Xaph has learned that ‘Lae’zel’ and ‘delicate’ are not words that belong in the same sentence.
“Tchk. You think my sword unworthy of such a foe?”
“We’re not going to kill it,” Xaph tells her, “We go in, we get this trinket, we get out.”
Lae’zel complains about being left elf-sitting, and Astarion bites back that she’s not exactly his choice of company, but the rest of the party are fairly sure they won’t rip each other’s throats out. The cave is surprisingly dark, sunlight winked out less than twenty feet in. Gale is not quite as sure-footed as the warlock but when he raises a hand to summon some light, he’s beaten by Xaph mumbling fiat lux as she rubs the locket around her neck. Swirling sprites of light dance in a circle above Xaph’s head. The motes burn orange, bright as flames.
“You didn’t say you could do magic.” Gale says, his words echoing even though he whispers. Sure, he’s seen her talk to animals but he’s never been awake early enough to see her perform the ritual every morning and thought she took potions. Xaph smiles at him, and the dancing lights make impressive shadows of her horns,
“My family are descended from the devil Mephistopheles,” she reminds him, “All tieflings of his line have latent arcane abilities. It’s up to the individual whether to pursue it or not and my mother, being a sorceress,” Gale had guessed that much, not just anyone could craft multiple rings of sending, “Encouraged us to pursue it.”
“Lead the way, Sunset Ranger.” Wyll says, indicating more tracks that are on the ground. Xaph moves forward slowly, and the others follow. She keeps her knees bent, just a little, and keeps her hands on her bow. Shadowheart swings her mace back and forth in a preparatory motion. A waterfall splits the rocky chamber of the cave in two, and it flows in the direction of a time-smoothed statue surrounded by glowing purple rocks. They’re too far away to tell who the statue is dedicated to, but if it was Mystra Xaph’s pretty sure the wizard would have something to say. “I’m not a betting man, but I dare say that’s where we’d find our key to the goblin camp.” Wyll whispers.
“You don’t say.” Shadowheart kicks at the corpse of a goblin. The body rolls and intestines spill out of the hole where the mesentery and ribs used to be.
“That’s unpleasant.” Gale’s words are muffled by the hand over his mouth. Xaph looks back at him,
“Not a fan of innards?”
“Not a common thing to come across in libraries.”
“You’re going to want to get used to it.” Shadowheart tells him. She has no reservations with dead bodies, taking the goblin’s pack and searching it for anything useful. Xaph reaches out and pushes the cleric back when she tries to step over the body,
“Wait. Wait…” she moves a hand over the dirt. Gale has to look away when she picks up the intestines to move them, “Ah, shit. Look,” she brings her dancing lights closer and Shadowheart’s braid swings as she leans down to see tracks. Similar to those outside but a fraction of the size. “A cub. She was just trying to protect her cub,” Xaph looks up at Wyll, “She’s going to be very angry.”
“What’s our move?” Wyll asks.
“Stay behind me. Don’t touch your weapons. Let me talk to her.” With each sentence, Xaph turns her gaze on a different companion. She’s met with little resistance, so she stands. She even gives Gale her bow again, leaving herself unarmed. Reluctantly, Shadowheart tucks her mace away. They cross the stream of the waterfall, feet sloshing in the shallow water. There are more bodies on the other side, and the stench of death and rotting meat wrinkles Wyll’s nose. The ground quakes with the impact of, announcing the arrival of the owlbear before she emerges from the shadows. Xaph opens her hands and holds one behind her back to signal that the others should stay back. Not that they were particularly keen on getting any closer to the beast anyway. It’s at least three times the size of the tiefling. She keeps her hands up and open, her tail still. She looks tiny, but she shows not an ounce of fear. The owlbear is covered in feathers, like the one they’d found outside the cave and the claws on its paws are long, their sharpness rivalled by the beak that opens to let out a bone-shaking growl. Xaph is the only one who can interpret the words that underline the sound,
“What’s this? Something weak, something tender…Won’t even have to chew you before I feed you to my son, softmeat.”
Xaph lifts her tail to catch her companion’s attention, and Gale and Wyll follow the direction it points in to see a nest just behind the owlbear. A young cub cowers in the branches of it, curled into a ball next to a huge, smooth egg. Xaph communicates twofold, silently by moving her tail and vocally by mimicking the friendly calls of birds of prey,
“We’re not here to hurt you. The man who attacked you is dead. I wanted to ensure you and your cub were unharmed. I see that you’re injured,” Xaph lifts a hand slowly, slowly, to her head to mirror where the head of a spear is lodged in her eye socket, “Can I help you?”
“It’s a splinter. I’ve gutted bigger threats than you with worse.”
“I understand. We would not have come here if we didn’t have to. If you grant us passage, we can find the artefact we were sent here for and you and your cub will be safe from the goblins. I give you my word, however much you believe that’s worth.”
There are several moments where it looks like the owlbear might still lunge at her. The cub squawks and it doesn’t translate, baby-talk. The wing-like ruffles of feathers on each of the mother’s forelegs calm.
“You may pass. But you make one wrong step, and I’ll rip you to shreds.”
Xaph doesn’t push her luck. She returns to her companions, relays their conversation, and lets Wyll lead them over a pile of rocks that makes way to a clearer path to the statue than trying to follow the waterfall. Shadowheart recognises the deity carved in stone first, with a derisive edge to her voice,
“A Selune statue? In a stinking cave? Hardly a place of honour.”
“Some gods don’t care where you worship, as long as you do it.” Xaph remarks, disregarding the statue in favour of a small gilded chest that shines blue.
“There’s magic at work. Be careful.” Gale warns. Xaph steps to the side to let him inspect the chest more closely, encouraging her lights to dance his way so he can see better. Shadowheart stands with her arms folded and her hip popped to the side, staring at the statue as though she can crumble it through disdain alone. Xaph wouldn’t put it past her. Wyll, on the other hand, is trying to find a way across the gap in the rocks between them and the statue. There’s a book on the ground, warped with moisture. The language inside is inscribed in rune-like shapes, but not one that Xaph can understand.
“Gale?”
“Yes?”
“Book.”
“Ooh,” He leaves the chest to stand behind her, tall enough to read the book over her shoulder, “Celestial.” His eyes stick on the bite mark still visible on her neck before the allure of the runes takes him.
“Celestial?” Xaph echoes as a hand slides under hers and she lets Gale take the book.
“It tells the story of Shar and Selune. Twin gods, forever locked in combat along with their followers.” He explains. He mouths a few of the Celestial words. It’s not a language he’s had much cause to use since-
“Something over here.” Wyll says, loud enough for them to hear but not so loud as to irritate the owlbear mother. He jumps back across the gap, grabbing hold of Xaph when he teeters a little too close to the edge. She’s effectively reacquainted herself with being touched, as she must when joining a group after travelling alone for a period, and it’s second nature to catch him. A piece of parchment is clutched in his hand, which holds a prayer to Selune.
“Prayers are often keys, in a way.” Gale muses. Encouraged, Wyll approaches the chest and recites the prayer. The shining blue case of magic falls away into sparkles.
“You should leave it. Or even destroy it.” Shadowheart says even as Wyll makes to lift the lid of the chest.
“Now why would you say that?” he asks, good eye squinting in confusion.
“This rubbish is an offering to Selune. At best, it’s worthless, at worst…who knows? Could be cursed. Do not trifle with that moon witch or her trinkets. Only trouble will follow.”
“Why do you care that it’s for Selune?” Xaph asks, suspicious, “It’s what the goblins want, and if she takes issue with us trying to help refugees and druids I’m sure she’ll let us know.”
“Why do I care? You want the truth?” Shadowheart asks. It’s not out of character for her words to be said so archly. She feels accused, and maybe she is. She likes her secrets, but she can’t keep them forever.
“You’re among friends, Shadowheart. You speak the most of how much we need to trust one another.” Gale points out.
“I worship Shar,” the cleric admits, “The Mistress of the Night. Selune’s twin and foe. Now that you have the truth, please don’t make a big fuss about it.” Well. Xaph can’t say it doesn’t make sense. Shadowheart has made no secret of her worship, but she’s never tried to impart her patron’s wisdom on the others. Never even said their name. But Shar is a goddess shrouded in darkness, in secrets.
“Shadowheart, I don’t give a shit who you worship,” Xaph tells her, “Each god matters equally little to me, but you can’t let this get in our way.”
“You’re right.” Shadowheart hesitates, then looks at the men with a mildly surprised expression. As though she’d expected them to evict her from the party. “Perhaps I should have told you sooner.”
“We thank you for sharing.” Gale nods.
“Don’t thank me. I’m breaking Lady Shar’s teachings just by telling you. But sometimes you have to be practical.”
“Can I open the chest now?” Wyll asks, and he waits until Shadowheart nods before he flips the lid open.
Astarion and Lae’zel are, thankfully, still waiting at the cave mouth when the rest of the party leave the owlbear family and Selunite shrine behind. Wyll shows the pair his prize, a pendant of moonstone that Gale has confirmed is magic. They can return to the village and give the goblins the amulet. Xaph tells Wyll to take the lead so she can walk beside Shadowheart. She is silent for the most part, clearly having a little trouble coming to terms with sharing the object of her worship.
“We won’t ask any more questions, you know. One thing about this lot, they err on the side of respecting privacy. Everyone has things they don’t want to share. Astarion’s secret just happened to be a little more pressing than yours.”
“I appreciate that. I do trust you, you know. Might not seem like it, but your kindness has not gone unnoticed or unappreciated,” she hesitates again, but Xaph’s pretty sure she’s not going to say anything else about Shar, “May I ask you a question?”
“Yes.”
“What did you mean, when you said the gods don’t matter to you?”
“What I said,” Xaph shrugs, “All the gods do the same thing in the end. They use you as a toy while you live, then kill you and chew you up and use you as a tool when you die. Not to shit on your faith personally,” she assures her friend, “But I’m as entitled to my disbelief as you are to your devotion.”
“I see.” Shadowheart nods. Her eyes slide past Xaph and towards Wyll who has stopped their procession, “Is that a dog?”
***
With the Selunite amulet, they are granted entry to the village. Moonhaven, a sign proclaims it, though the goblins use a far more vulgar word for it. It’s desolate. Abandoned for several decades at least, probably longer judging by how the buildings have fallen apart. And yet belongings unclaimed by the goblins are scattered everywhere, rotting wicker baskets and opened crates of clothes. Something bad happened here. Unease settles over the entire party, drawing them into a tight knot as they pick their way through the rubble. Just beyond a well from which the smell of dust rises, there’s the sound of screaming.
“Bleeding heart, please don’t-” Astarion starts, then groans when Xaph redirects the party towards a windmill.
“Must we stop for every creature in distress?” Lae’zel asks.
“We stopped for you, didn’t we?” Shadowheart taunts.
“I asked you to.”
“Demanded, more like,” Astarion counters. An opportunity to be dramatic, and he’s going to take it, imitating Lae’zel’s gravel tones, “Get me down, I need you.”
“I did not say that!”
“Are you sure, darling?”
#rae's writing#baldur's gate 3 fanfiction#bg3 fic#baldur's gate 3#bg3#greensleeves#rae's ocs#baldur's gate 3 oc#bg3 oc#xaph [tav]#gale of waterdeep#gale dekarios#astarion#astarion ancunin#shadowheart#lae'zel#wyll ravengard
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Lore tidbits: Goblins
Quick intro to goblins in my personal setting, Eol Wyrna.
They are kind of different from the usual green skin or warm, earth toned gobbos that you may be used to see. This is because they share many features with Kobolds, a depiction of whom will come at a later date. Most notably, their skin tone tends towards cold greys and blues.
Later on I'll doodle some examples of more goblin folk in Eol Wyrna. For now, this is intended as a short intro and reference to their main features. A little bit of written lore to follow below the cut!
*: Teikkiet (Character depicted here) Has some slight distinctions compared to other goblins. Namely, the cat-like nostrils and a longer, fluffier tail. This is due to her abilities and magical affinity rather than ancestry.
Goblins are one of the most common peoples across Eol Wyrna, although compared to others they are relative newcomers in the stage of history. They are closely related to Kobolds as they share the same ancestry, albeit with the marked distinction of lacking the Kobolds’ iconic Draconic affinity that reflects on their appearance: Where Kobolds display distinct Dragon-like anatomic features common to those touched by Dragon magic (Usually but not restricted to: scales, horns, tails and claws), Goblins instead present features common to mammals at large instead with no immediate association. The distribution of these anatomical features across the body, however, is still shared between both peoples: that is to say: scaled or fur-covered limbs, a tail and short claws. Horn-like protrusions remain unique to Kobolds to this day.
Goblin history begins some 2800 years ago, in an event known as the Night of Mischief, or depending on the local traditions, as the Ascent of the Fool of Fools. While the exact details of what happened that night are unknown and shrouded in an astounding amount of folk tales, the fact remains that when the sun rose on the next day a third of the Kobold population in the then mighty empire had somehow lost their Draconic affinity, becoming what would soon after be known as the first of the Goblin peoples. Soon after, rumors and stories of a mysterious and fickle being spread across the land. This figure would be later known as the Fool: a divine or near-divine being dedicated to mischief and trickery. Since these events happened almost simultaneously, the Fool is attributed for the “creation” of the Goblin peoples, and many of them see this being as a patron deity of sorts… though they are the first to admit to its fickle and unreliable nature as a patron.
Goblins and Kobolds share a conflicted history, and often enough bear some form of resentment towards one another due to sins of the past. Still, it is because of this conflicted history that Goblins at large strive to be a welcoming and open people, happy to share meal and roof to those who need it, in the understanding that times change and one day they may once again be those counted among those in need. They share a strong sense of community, and are quick to band together against threats to their own, by whom they understand as those with who they live and bond with.
Today, Goblins can be found all over across Eol Wyrna, but mostly in the Hearthlands and its many countries and kingdoms.
#ZegryArt#ZegryWorldbuilding#Worldbuilding#fantasy worldbuilding#character art#digital art#goblin#artists on tumblr
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a bunch of sketches with my morrowind char k'mari
he is a murder gobbo rightfully imprisoned for 1) arson and 2) participation in organized crime (he is also not very smart and his charisma is like zero)
needless to say that nerevar is very unimpressed by his last reincarnation
but the bastard manages to get the work done so I guess if it works it works
#[art]#tes fanart#tes#morrowind#nerevarine#indoril nerevar#nerevar as a guardian spirit or something#*looms behind you with a judging look*#kmari might or might not be mentioned in my fic about nerevar...
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Picture this:
Tav gets rejected by Astarion the night of the gobbo party. Brutally, of course. Complete with the exaggerated "eugh" and everything.
But later in the adventure Astarion changes his mind, catches feelings, they agree to give it another shot.
Tav goes through the entire romance arc. The confession, the hug, convincing Astarion he doesn't need Cazador's power, they have the vulnerable night at the graveyard, defeat the Netherbrain side by side.
Now the journey is over. Astarion asks, hope in his eyes, where they'll go from there. He says Tav is the only person he's ever cared about, says he sees a future always with them. After everything, they're beyond a relationship now, they're soulmates.
Tav turns, looks him dead in the face and says;
"Oh, not with you. Can you imagine? Eugh!"
The vampire's face falls. Tav gleefully begins to monologue.
All these weeks on the road together, all the time shared had been nothing but a long con. Petty revenge.
Even coaxing him out of the ritual, all to deny Astarion the power of a vampire ascendant and never let him walk in the sun ever again.
He's completely alone now and completely powerless, crushed, annihilated. He's left alone and stunned in the inn room, unable to process the sheer magnitude of the betrayal done to him.
But Tav is victorious. No one fucking rejects Tav.
#bg3#baldur's gate#baldurs gate 3#bg3 spoilers#astarion#bg3 tav#I was just struck with the idea of someone getting insanely salty over Astarion's bitchiness#so they decide to do his romance arc SPECIFICIALLY to reject him at the very end and ruin his life#do you think he'd at least have to respect it#one con-man to another
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First Steps: Aradin Beno x half drow! Tav
Note: it’s been a while since I’ve written fanfiction so I’m a little rusty.
AO3: First Steps: Aradin x Tav
Aradin did not know what he expected when the half-drow took the night song contract, but he knew he did not expect her to do this. She had come back to the grove with Liam draped over her back. He was barely conscious but was able to get out that he didn’t let the grove’s location slip. Aradin though Liam was as good as dead, looking at his unconscious body curled up in a sleeping back, a part of him thinks he’d be better off that way. Beyond saving Liam’s life and asking for nothing in return, the drow also retrieved some of the gear and personal items from his fallen comrades.
“It’s not much, but it will bring their family some peace,” she said. Aradin had always heard stories of Drow, cold hearted elves driven underground with their women ruling and subjugating anyone they could. But looking at her, he didn’t see anything close to those stories. At first glance, she looked like any normal half-elf with the same slightly pointed ears as Barth. But her complexion was just a tad too ashy to be normal. Almost as if she was close to death. Her hair was also another sign of her Drow heritage, it was a strange shade of white only seen on people from the under dark. The most human thing about her were her eyes. Soft, caring, and memorizing. He felt like she was staring right into his sole.
Aradin took the supplies and told his companions they’d leave as soon as Liam could travel. Before he could do much else, the half drow grabbed his arm.
“You’ll be dead if you leave the grove.” Her voice did not match the strength that she gripped his arm with. Too calm, like she had practiced saying it to everyone.
“The druids won’t like us sticking around. Better to get out now before the gobbos come back.” He tried to sound unbothered but it was difficult with her staring directly into his soul.
“We’re figuring out how to stop the ritual,” her three companions looked bored as they watched them. “Once the goblin camp is cleared, then it’ll be safe to leave.”
Aradin pulled his arm from her grasp, finding her grip all for show. “We don’t have time to wait around for you to straighten out this mess”
“The only way out is chocked with goblins, gnolls, orcs, and bugbears. We’re only alive cause I’m part drow. They won’t be as lenient to you. If you want any chance of seeing another gold piece, you’ll stay put”
The pale elf stepped up next to her, resting an arm on her shoulder, “I’d do what she says, we’d hate to wipe blood off your loot when you’re dead.” He gave a cheeky smile at his little threat.
Aradin tsked, mulling over his options. Look like a coward in front of his crew and hers or staying alive. “Fine. We’ll stay, don’t make us wait long.”
The pale elf turned away with a sing song voice saying, ‘see, it wasn’t that hard’. The wizard and cleric both looked fed up with their leader making a big fuss over him and his crew. But the drow? She gave him a soft smile that almost made Aradin forget her earlier warnings. “Thankyou,” she said before turning around to follow her companions off to their camp.
Aradin pulled himself away from staring at her retreating form to grab a drink. He sat down across from Barth and Remira, taking a long swig of the bland alcohol. The trio sat in silence for a while, each glancing over at Liam to make sure he was still there, still alive.
Remira was the first to break the silence, “she’d make a terrible sell sword. Didn’t even ask for money and gave it to us!” A large smile broke across her lips.
Barth joined in with more praise, “she also got me mum’s locked back from those brats. Thought I’d lost it forever.”
Aradin lost himself in thought about the half-drow. She was so altruistic, saving them at the gates, keeping Zevlor from attacking him, and saving Liam. She wasn’t a paladin as far as he knew. Most likely a ranger based on how she favored the bow over more close ranged weapons. He wondered why she was doing all this. Could she really afford to adventure without focusing on money? Just doing good deeds? Her companions did not seem like the type to go along with making the world a better place, but they stuck around with her.
It only took two days for her to return to the grove with Halsin in tow. The large elf didn’t seem to hold any ill will towards Aradin for leaving him to die. He’d even invited his group to stay for the party to celebrate the goblins’ defeat. Aradin almost declined until the drow caught his eyes, that sweet smile across her lips, that was all it took for him to accept.
Parties were not his thing. Not even the alcohol was enough to get him to socialize with the people there. Barth and Remira had ran off to talk to some teifling bard. Liam was healed up enough to be talking to the druids. That just left Aradin, standing off to the side, watching everyone have a good time. He was lost in thought that he didn’t realize the drow had approached him.
“Hey,” he jumped a bit but quickly composed himself, “how you enjoying the party? Worth sticking around for?” She looked up at him with such a genuine smile on her face. It had been a while sense someone looked at Aradin like that.
He took a moment to compose himself, masking it by taking a swig of the alcohol, “beats being dead. But could use better wine.”
She let out a cute giggles, “can I talk to you in private?”
That truly caught Aradin off guard, “what? Don’t want to be seen talking to me?”
She rolled her eyes, “just have a few things to discuss that I’d rather not have people eavesdropping on.”
Aradin gave her a nod and let her lead him away from the party. She took him down to the beach next to the grove. To his surprise, a white dog and owl beat cub were curled up next to each other sleeping.
“Didn’t know you brought pets with you,” Aradin was cautious not to wake to animals.
“I found them near the goblin camp. Scratch, the dog, was guarding his owner who the goblins killed and the owl bear cub was captured by the goblins after they killed his mom.” She sat down on the sand, gazing fondly at the two.
Aradin followed suit, placing himself close enough to her that they might touch without it being obvious, “you brought me out here to talk about your dog and cub?”
She shook her head but still kept looking at the duo, “I wanted to offer you some information we found on the night song,” she pulled out a small leather bound journal and opened it to a page with multiple notes scribbled down. “The night song isn’t in a Selûne temple. Whatever it is, is hidden in a Shar temple in the shadowlands.”
Aradin skimmed over the notes in her journal, they confirmed what she was saying. “So why you given this to me? I ain’t sending my crew after the night song again if that’s what worries you.”
She looked up at him, an eyebrow quirked, “while it’s not the night song, I hope Lorroakan will pay for information on its location. Especially considering he doesn’t know where it’s actually located.”
Aradin scoffed, “so you want me to be your errand boy? I ain’t-”
“I want you to take the money,” she cut him off. “Get your crew to Baldur’s Gate and get whatever the wizard is willing to pay for that information.”
That truly stunned Aradin, “what’s the catch? Drows aren’t this friendly.”
She bristled at his words. She reached up and grabbed the front of his tunic, pulling him down slightly. “I’m helping you and you insult me? Forget it you’re an ass.” She pushed him back and snatched her journal back.
“Wait, no!” She turned back to look at him, “I am… sorry. Im not used to people being nice, not without me giving something in return.” Aradin took a deep breath, steeling himself for how vulnerable he was being. “Thanks for savin’ my life, gettin Barth’s mums locket back, saving Liam and the Druid, it’s more than anyone has done for me. I don’t know what I could give you in return but thank you for all of it.”
Her face softened back to a smile, “I don’t do good things so people give me stuff. I just like helping.” She ripped the page of notes on the night song from her journal and handed to him. “All I need you to do is stay alive long enough to get some gold.”
He smiles back, in the moonlight she looked very pretty, her eyes sparkled, and Aradin’s cheeks flushed.
She began to fidget with her journal, “there is one thing I wanted to ask you to do. It’s kind of a big request but I’m willing to give you some stuff to help if you agree.”
Aradin raised a brow at her, standing up to match her gaze, “yeah? What kind of problem do you need my help with?”
“Both your crew and the Teiflings are heading to Baldur’s gate. My crew can’t accompany them so I was wondering if you would? I know you and Zevlor don’t get along but it would mean a lot if you helped them”
Aradin was disappointed that this was her request. His gut reaction was to say no, let the Teiflings fend for themselves. But her words made him second guess himself. Helping just to be nice? People don’t do that, especially for people they don’t like. Zevlor didn’t help his group when the goblins chased them back, only telling Aradin that they should have died instead of trying to live.
“Why do you do this?” Aradin asked.
“I told you I like helping?” Her brows raised.
“I mean, why do you help people that don’t like you. You’re a drow, I doubt the Teiflings or Druids were thrilled to have you running to their rescue. Hells, I was an ass to you so why are you helping me?” He gestured at himself to emphasize his point.
“I never had people want to help me when I struggled. It was just my mom and I, no one let us stay for long before running us out of town. No one wanted to help a half-drow. I don’t want to be like those people. If I can make the world just a little better, try to bring people together, maybe that wont happen to the next kid.” Her arms crossed over herself and she looked to the ground.
Aradin thought back to his own childhood. His parents weren’t around for long and he learned how to survive on the streets after they were gone. People rarely stopped to help a starving kid in Baldur’s Gate. Had he stopped to help any kids now that he was an adult? He was becoming the type of people he hated as a kid, so self focused and unable to see those struggling outside themselves.
“Fine, I’ll help get the Teiflings to Baldur’s Gate,” He finally answered. “But it Zevlor tries to punch me again, then I’m leaving him and his group behind.”
“Just don’t call him a foul blood and I think you’ll be good,” she playfully punched his arm, grinning up at him. “I have extra supplies your crew can use, some better armor and weapons.”
“You sure your crew will be fine if we take a bunch of their stuff?”
She gave him a reassuring smile, “they don’t need anything more than they can carry, they’ll understand. And thank you for agreeing to help, it means a lot and I know Zevlor and the Teiflings will appreciate it.”
“You convinced me. And thanks for the Nightsong info, I’ll get that wizard to cough up something.” Aradin reached out his hand for her to take, “would you like to stay here a little longer? You don’t get views like this in the city.”
She blushed and took his hand, “I’d like that.”
The two sat down together on the beach. The drow leaned her head against his shoulder and Aradin relaxed knowing she was feeling a similar way to him. He leaned into her, laying his head against hers. The two shared a quiet night there until they heard her crew calling out for her.
She sighed and stood up, his hand reached out to grab hers before she left, “thank you Aradin, I’ll see you in the morning.” She gave his hand a tight squeeze before walking back to camp. The owl bear cub and dog both woke up to follow her back.
Aradin waited a bit before leaving to join his own group. He found that Remira and Liam had already fallen asleep with Barth being the only one left awake.
Aradin nodded to Barth before curling up in his own sleeping bag.
“What are you doing with the drow?” Barth asked.
“Half-drow, I’ll tell you in the morning,” Aradin heard Barth chuckle before getting into his own sleeping bag.
“Whatever you say boss.”
The morning came far too quickly for Aradin’s liking and started off far too busy. From the Teiflings packing up their wagons to the druids clearing out the grove, it was all far too much. Aradin headed toward’s the other adventuring group to meet up with the Half-drow again. She created him with a big smile before pulling him over towards a traveling trunk. She pulled out some improved weapons along with armor. One of her companions stopped to chastise her about giving all their supplies away only for her to say they had more than enough.
The two set off to meet up with Aradin’s group and distribute the gear. Remira got an improved two handed bow and some bracers, Liam a sword and armor, and Barth a stronger shield.
“Oh before I forget,” she reached for her necklace and unhooked a silver pendant. “It’s enchanted to offer guidance, it will help when dealing with Zevlor.” She placed the pendant in his hand, letting her hand linger longer than necessary. With a quick squeeze she leaned forward and kissed his cheek, “good luck, I hope to see you again.” And she was off.
The feeling of her lips on his cheek lingered, he wanted to run after her and kiss her. He was knocked out of his fantasy by Barth slapping him on the shoulder.
“So you got some last night? Didn’t know Drow was your type.”
Aradin pushed Barth’s hand off him, “nothin like that happened.”
Remira laughed, “so she handed out gear for free?”
“She asked us to escort the Teiflings to Baldur’s Gate. The gear and some info on the nightsong is our payment.” Aradin explained.
Remira and Barth both looked exasperated at the thought of spending more time around the Teiflings but one look from Aradin got them heading over to the wagon train. Liam stayed besides Aradin, “so we’re helping the Teiflings out? What about what happened earlier?”
Aradin clasped Liam around the shoulder and began walking towards the wagons, “someone’s got to help them, might as well be us.”
Zevlor gave Aradin a curt nod as the two approached, “thank you for agreeing to help escort the wagons, we need all the swords we can get.”
“Don’t mention it, old man” Aradin and his crew helped load the last of the Teifling’s supplies into the wagons before pushing off to the mountain path. He looked back at the grove to try and catchable glimpse of the half drow. He saw a glimpse of her white hair before the tree line obscured her and her party. Aradin turned back to the road, he looked down at the silver pendant she had gifted him and felt the guiding energy from it.
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