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lunastrophe · 1 day

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I'm curious if you know of how the other casting classes, like Bards, Sorcerers, and Warlocks are seen in Loth-sworn societies? If it's mentioned at all.

Oh, this is a really interesting topic! 😃 There are some information on drow bards, sorcerers and warlocks in Drow of the Underdark (3.5e) - I find especially the concept of drow bard totally awesome.

🕷️ Drow Bards - surfacers often do not realize that drow have an ancient bardic tradition, "one that transforms the traveling entertainer, trickster, and storyteller of the surface into one of the most horrific taskmasters and assassins of the Underdark".

Drow bards are somewhat uncommon in drow societies and they often do not travel the world, but usually connect themselves to some noble House, join a theatrical troupe or become employees in various city locations for artistic performances.

Performing can be deadly dangerous to a drow bard, especially since drow tastes are notoriously fickle - bards who fail to amuse their clients sometimes find themselves a part of the next performance: "disappointed audiences are not shy about taking out their frustrations on those who fail to provide suitable entertainment. The fatality rate among performers is high."

Many drow bards study various means of death-dealing, including the use of poisons, and are skilled spies and assassins. Sornafein, patron of Matron Mother Z'hindia Melarn from Menzoberranzan, was a bard - he was known to kill his rivals with strings of his instruments.

Drow artists in general are considered "even more decadent than typical members of their race".

🕷️ Deathsinger is a specific type of a bard, unique to drow culture. Deathsingers are rare and they combine their bardic skills with necromancy - they are able, for example, to control the dead through their songs.

🕷️ Drow Sorcerers - their position in drow societies is usually similar to that of drow wizards and arcane spellcasters in general. "Wizards and sorcerers are found in nearly equal numbers among the drow (...) and sorcerous talent runs strong through the chaotic and inherently magical drow."

🕷️ Drow Warlocks - "warlocks are not unknown among the drow, but they are seen as something of an oddity. The race's affinity with and connection to the Lower Planes is too great for them to not exhibit some sort of taint from beyond, and demonbinders are among the most common examples found."

Drow warlocks have "strong links to the Abyss and to Lolth, but those ties more directly bind them to Lolth's servants - her demons - than to the Spider Queen herself."

Also, I just found a curious thing about female drow warlocks:

If powers of a female drow warlock come from bargains with (or descent from) demons associated with Lolth, she can be considered blessed by the Spider Queen. If such a female meets all the other priesthood requirements, she can have the status of a priestess, even though she is technically an arcane spellcaster.

Apparently, this is one exception to the rule that all drow priestesses must be divine spellcasters. Such "warlock priestessess" are rare, though. They are also expected to serve the church and the noble houses rather than to run them.

#drow #lolth sworn drow #drow lore #drow culture #dnd lore #dark elves

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fatale-distraction · 4 months

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Kar’niss x Tav... Tav helps Kar'niss clean himself up after taking him in?

Not sure if this turned out how you were expecting, dearest Anon, but here’s a thing!

~~~

"Hold still, now," Qilue murmured, dabbing carefully at the drider's temple with a damp cloth. Kar'niss had settled himself near the fire pit, legs folded beneath him obediently while his newest mistress scrubbed at his face with a gentility he had become so unaccustomed to, his shattered mind couldn't recall the last time someone had treated him with such tender care. He had thought The Absolute had been good to him, rewarded his devotion with such generosity. It was nothing compared to this new mistress, her touch feather light and full of love. Even as the drider peered with mixed suspicion and curiousity around the camp, a purr began to rumble in his chest, accompanied by the occasional anxious chitter over his new surroundings. Water sloshed in the bucket at Qilue's side as she rinsed the rag and squeezed it out. Kar'niss winced away when she swept it around his primary eyes and moved on to the secondary ones dotting the left side of his face. Her touch remained gentle while she murmured comforting words in a low voice and continued scrubbing the filth from his mottled skin. She moved to the jagged scarring that split his face, blood boiling as she tried not to remember the circumstances behind it, the vicious snake-headed whip that had flayed skin and muscle to the bone.

"How long do you think it's going to take you with that little scrap?"

"Shut up, Astarion."

"Excuse me, I am asking a genuine question," the vampire scoffed. "Wouldn't it be easier to just have Gale soak him?"

Gale glanced up from his book. "I'm sorry," he quipped. "You may be curious about what an angry, soaking wet, mentally unstable drider tearing through our camp would look like, but I am not."

Kar'niss hissed and both men snapped their mouths shut. Qilue barely restrained a smirk as she washed behind his ears. "Behave yourself, my love," she instructed fondly.

The drider shrank. "Forgive us, mistress," he babbled. "We are loyal, and she is kind, we will behave."

The drow woman pet his lank white hair and whispered to him in a soothing tone. "Ssh, Kar'niss. I'm not your mistress," she reminded him. "Don't be afraid, you won't be punished. Just be nice."

His trembling eased as he stared with trepidation at the curious woman. "No punishment?"

"No punishment," she assured him, wiping down his neck. Dirt and grime flaked away from the chitin, and it began to take on a dull shine as she scrubbed. Kar'niss let his eyes drift shut. It felt so good; the abrasive cloth and her gentle touch cleaning away months of misery and leaving behind raw skin and gleaming carapace. The purr returned and tentatively he bowed his forehead to hers.

"Thank you, mistress," he said in an awed whisper. "We do not deserve your kindness, your mercy."

"I'm not your mistress," Qilue reminded him again, smiling as she attempted to continue her scrubbing with his forehead pressed to hers. "And kindness is always deserved. It is not something that needs to be earned."

"Yes, my queen."

"No."

"Savior?”

"Try again."

His eyes flickered open and considered her with confusion. "But then, what shall we call you, my lady?"

"My name," she insisted. "Qilue."

A shudder ran through his body. Moonlight. Yes. It had frightened him at first, that bright orb floating in the sky, surrounded by knife-points of glittering stars, but he had quickly grown to love it. The moon was good to him, it was kind. It lit the way in the dark and scattered the shadows. "My light," he gasped in a hoarse, pained whine.

The rag dropped from Qilue's fingers to land on the ground with a wet slap. Hope shone in her eyes and she clutched his clawed hands to her chest.

"Yes!" she cried, tears stinging her eyes. "Yes, Kar'niss, that's what you used to call me! Do you remember?"

"No!" he wailed, clutching his head with sharp claws and staggering back, his body quaking. "No, there was no one. NO ONE. There was only the Absolute, only the Spider Bitch before her. No one else. No light, no light..."

The companions' hands went to their weapons, but they held their positions at a panicked signal from their leader.

"Ssh, darling, it's alright," she murmured, approaching the shaking drider with a soft step. "Come back to me. You're safe."

"We are NEVER safe," he snarled, lips peeling back to reveal his glinting fangs. "The things in the darkness are always there, watching, waiting, HUNGERING."

A pale, bluish light flickered to life in Qilue's palm. The bard murmured a simple, soothing song for his ears alone. The tune was one she had written for him, long ago, to fit the words of his favorite poem. The effect was startingly instantaneous. His breathing slowed, all of his eyes swivelling toward her with an intent, watery gaze. He lowered his hands from his face, pin-pricks of blood left behind from his claws. The companions relaxed slightly as he quieted, lowering his body back toward the ground, entranced by the song and the light.

"Moonlight," he murmured again, broken voice choked with tears. "That was her name, Moonlight...she was my light--MY light, and she was good and she was kind...and they took her away and they broke her and they HURT her--"

Qilue shushed him again, gently gathering him into her arms. "She's okay, Kar'niss. She's alright now. Try to remember her face," she urged, taking his face in her hands and focusing his frantically wandering attention on her face. "Remember my face, my love."

It took several minutes of coaxing to calm the drider enough to resume his bath, her attempts to trigger his memories of her fruitless. Qilue's companions awkwardly relaxed their grips on their weapons and resumed their rest, each trying to pretend they hadn't heard Kar'niss' words. Astarion stormed away from the camp after a few moments, snatching up the moon lantern and muttering in a dark rage that he needed to feed. If anyone heard an agonized scream in the dark, cut off with a sudden, wet squelch, they pretended not to hear that as well. Qilue continued her work, intentionally oblivious, humming her little song every time Kar'niss began to tremble and fret again.

Before long, Minthara emerged from the tent she had kicked Halsin out of, bleary-eyed from a deep trance and crunching on a burnt meat-kabob of uncertain origin. She came to an abrupt halt as she came upon the drider-bath-time, eyes shot wide open, half-eaten kabob partially raised to her mouth. She swallowed and lowered the meat.

"There is a drider in our camp,” she rasped.

"Yes," confirmed Qilue, not looking up from her intent polishing of a chitinous shoulder-plate.

"Why is there a drider in our camp."

"His name is Kar'niss."

"WHY is there a DRIDER in our CAMP," enunciated Minthara raggedly.

"He's Qilue's ex-boyfriend," Astarion snapped, stepping back into camp, dragging a badly mangled body behind him and wiping his bloodied mouth with the back of his hand. He dropped the blood in front of Kar'niss. "For you, darling. If I'm not allowed to snack on our friends in the middle of the night, neither are you."

All seven of Kar'niss' eyes widened hungrily at the sight and smell of the half-drained corpse, breath quickening. Qilue put her hands on her hips. "I JUST finished washing his face, Astarion!" she complained. "He's going to get blood everywhere all over again!"

"Let the drider eat!" several strangled voices chorused. The young drow sighed and dropped her rag in the bucket.

"Very well. Try not to make a mess, my love..."

Licking his lips, Kar'niss pounced on the body, sinking his teeth in and gulping down the cooling blood with a moan of ecstasy, babbling his gracious thanks until Qilue scolded him for eating with his mouth full. Her friends averted their eyes and tried not to feel sick as he tore into his meal, with the exception of Lae'zel and Minthara who looked on with interest, and Astarion, who remained disinterested.

"I am going to need a better explanation than that," Minthara said at last, turning back to her fellow countrywoman. "How in the hells did you end up with a drider for a mate?"

"He's not my ex-boyfriend," sighed Qilue, massaging her temple and flopping down in front of the fire. "Or my mate. He's...I don't know what we were. But he wasn't a drider then."

Minthara's eyebrows lifted, a nearly sympathetic expression that fit strangely on her face. "I...see. My condolences. That is not a fate I would wish on my second-worst enemy, but any who would willingly take on a trial of Lolth--"

"It was not willingly," bit out Qilue, holding back tears. The warden's eyebrows climbed higher. "It was a punishment. The Matron Bitch offered him choice between life or death, and he chose ME."

"You surname," the Nightwarden suddenly demanded. "You hail from Menzoberanzan, do you not? What house are you from?"

"Valtaya," Qilue spat.

"House Valtaya..." Minthara mused. "Yes, I recall. Your mother was an idiot."

"I know."

The pair were silent for a moment as Qilue continued to stare into the flames.

"Would it comfort you to know that your eldest sister now leads your house?"

"Oh?" hummed Qilue lightly, eyes unfocused. Kar'niss had slowed his feasting and listened intently, his attention fixed on the drow women as blood dripped down his chin.

Minthara nodded. "The rumor was that she grew tired of your Matron's wasteful, fruitless ambitions and stabbed her ninety-five times in her sleep. The deed was praised quite highly by those who dared mention it.”

Qilue laughed under her breath. "It was ninety-seven. And my sister didn't do it. I did."

"I see." The warden didn't seem surprised. "Why ninety-seven?"

"One for every year of my life," she replied too easily. "And the poison coating the blade was for Kar'niss."

"The stories didn't mention the poison. What kind?"

"Drider vemon, ironically. I didn't even know of his fate then. They told me he was dead."

Minthara hummed. "It would have been better if he was."

"I know."

"And what of the Patron?" asked Qilue after a moment, dragging the water bucket closer, giving it a casual inspection. The water needed changing, murky and black with dirt, dried blood, and gods knew what else. "Did the rumors mention his fate?"

"He is no longer the Patron, but from my understanding still leads your family's guard."

Qilue scowled. "He was supposed to kill himself. I even gave him a clean knife, which was more than he deserved. Fucker."

A snort burst from the other drow. "If you trusted a male to do the proper thing unsupervised, you're a fool."

"Apparently." Qilue tipped the bucket, spilling water downhill. Gale, listening and watching the exchange with interest, refilled it with a wave of his hand.

"How's that for supervision?" he muttered, mocking the warden's distainful tone.

"Your males are useful," Minthara, having overheard his disrespectful grumbling, pitched her voice to carry. "But poorly trained."

Qilue stifled a laugh as Gale bristled and opened his mouth to retort just as Kar'niss licked the blood from his chin with a tongue much longer than it should have been, half of his eyes squinting in concentration. Gale gagged instead, Astarion chortling as he examined his nails and leaned back against a pillow in front of his tent, one leg propped up on the other.

"I can't speak for Gale, but I'll have you know," the vampire drawled. "That I am in fact MOSTLY house-trained, thank you very much."

"Shut up, Astarion," the drow women and Gale ordered in unison.

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sorcerous-caress · 7 months

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I've been reading the drow dictionary to incorporate it into my Minthara writing, and here is a list of my favourite words so far.

Mine - Usst

lover (female) - mrimm d'ssinss

lover (male) - mrann d'ssinss

Love and lust meaning the same thing is very interesting, since it puts onto perspective how much drow culture doesn't see a difference between the two, or how they see love as glorified lust.

love - ssinssrigg

lust - ssinssrigg

loving - ssinssriggin

lusting - ssinssriggin

Even compliments are very few in drow language, and the ones that do exist, despite their translation, are still taken directly from the lust word.

allure - ssinss

attractive - ssin'urn

beauty - ssin

beautiful / handsome - ssin'urn

#♡minthara #drow culture #drow language #compare that to human culture where non-binary people exist and there are more than a hundred words to describe someone's beauty #aro and ace too

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gameguy20100 · 1 month

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Unpopular opinion.

Making the fascist, genocidal, nazi coded culture, Matriarchal doesn't make it "Feminist."

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soul-branding · 1 month

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Can you even fucking imagine how toxic drow makeup must be. Just in general. Humans are somewhat poison resistant and we put nightshade in our eyes and lead on our faces during various points in history.

I highly doubt the duergar wear much makeup except for religious reasons, though their eyeshadow of choice could probably chemically burn the skin from my bones. Drow though? Everything they do is either a challenge to kill them (see: public nudity dressed only in spiderwebs as a kind of power play) or the equivalent of strapping 32 hidden knives to their bodies. Frequently both at once.

Also they're surrounded by mushrooms, and mushrooms are not to be trusted on the best of days.

The drow probably have a kind of nail polish that makes you hallucinate evil unicorns if you are wearing a specific kind of skin cream when they scratch you. They carefully spritz an arachnomancer's robes with mint water and the spiders visibly recoil during ritual, casting shame upon their family and inviting assassinations.

Also drow makeup could specifically cater to infravision, not just the visible light spectrum, because there are clays and such that conduct heat more poorly. They look bare faced to us, but to a drow's heat-sensitive eyes there are intricate runes in colder shades along their cheeks and neck. Etc.

#drow #drow culture #worldbuilding

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kaykebitez · 3 months

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Phaere Vrinn - Tav Character Sheet

The first of my character directories, since I figured it would be helpful for myself to have character sheets for all my Tavs in one place, and what better place than Tumblr lol. This bio will contain SPOILERS for A Sonnet of Spiders and my fanfiction universe, The Dark Minstrel, so if you're following along and don't want all the lore spoiled pls read at your discretion. <3

Name: Phaere Vrinn (Formerly: Phaere Melarn) Race: (Formerly) Lolth-Sworn Drow (Currently unaffiliated) Class: Bard (College of Lore in Game; More closely aligns with College of Eloquence) Age: 170 Sex: Female Pronouns: She/Her Alignment: Chaotic Good/Neutral (ish) Orientation: Pansexual Partners: Astarion & Halsin

Height: 4'11" Build: S m o l. Petite and lightly curvy. Skin: Dusty lavender with tons of FRECKLES Eyes: Pink (Volo eye Grey) Hair: Moonlight White with a bit of a teal-ish tint Tattoos: Amethyst purple Starpoint Glimmer Tat Favored Weapon: Hand Crossbow or Orin's Dagger Instrument: Flute or Spider's Lyre Favorite Spell: Shatter, Otto's Irresistible Dance Base Stats (I think) CHA: 17 WIS: 12 DEX: 15 STR: 8 INT: 10 CON: 13

Likes: Music, dancing, pomegranates, sparkly clothes, witty jokes, sweet wines, vanilla cake Dislikes: Drow Bullshit (TM), injustice, boring speeches, krakens, spiders (the irony), being underestimated Personality: Phaere can be a bit of a wildcard, but most of the time she's a charming, charismatic performer with a good heart. However, she can dish it as well as she can take it, so if you come at her with hostility, malice, or snark, expect to get it back tenfold. If you meet her with warmth or friendliness, she will absolutely bend over backwards to befriend you or at very least treat you with kindness in return. She reflexively helps the helpless and defends the defenseless, but gets easily angered by injustice, prejudice, or unfair treatment.

While she holds little love for her drow heritage, Phaere is not above using others' prejudices to get what she wants if it suits her. She can play a convincing, evil drow matriarch, even if the act turns her stomach every time she does it. She does have a bit of a cruel streak for those she deems 'evil' or 'deserving' of punishment, which is how she gets around the cognitive dissonance of (usually) not wanting to hurt anyone if she can help it. She would much rather entertain than kill, but if the situation calls for it... well... she can be incredibly sadistic. Anger is the emotion that gets the best of her most often, and when her well of patience runs dry... watch out. You don't want a tiny, pissed-off drow coming to mock you to death.

In love, Phaere is kind, attentive, and selfless, almost to a fault. She puts her partners' needs above her own and rarely asks for what she wants, but she's getting better about it with Astarion and Halsin's help. Her previous lover taught her how relationships work on the surface, and now with the help of her boys she's putting it into practice. Sensual but with a 'take it or leave it' attitude to sexual intimacy, Phaere is more interested in building connections of the heart rather than of the body. But well, she is very good at the bodily connection part, when the mood strikes. She is a bard, after all.

Backstory: (SPOILERS FOR SONNET OF SPIDERS)

Phaere was born in Ched Nasad, a drow city in the Underdark in 1322. The seventh daughter of Halisstra Melarn (or so she was told,) Phaere was ignored often as a child. The smallest of her sisters as well, Phaere was often left in the care of her elder brother, Rylbros, the only male of the family. (As Phaere knew him, he was technically her cousin, an illegitimate child of Halisstra's brother, Q'arlynd, but he was raised as her brother and she considered him as such. Little did she know that SHE was also an illegitimate child of Q'arlynd as well, making her and Rylbros full siblings.) Rylbros, a kind, timid boy with an incredible gift for music, became something of a surrogate parental figure for Phaere, providing her with the affection and care that she never received from her mother or sisters growing up.

Halisstra was tutored in the bardic art of bae'qeshel, and passed on the art to her three eldest daughters, despite none of them being very proficient in the musical arts. Meanwhile, Rylbros and Phaere were gifted in music, and practiced their own music in secret unbeknownst to the rest of the family. Q'arlynd, even though he was forbidden from seeing his son for the most part, even arranged for a private tutor to teach Rylbros the violin as a teenager--the very same bardic tutor that Halisstra had learned from.

Of course, Halisstra had the tutor killed after she insinuated that Phaere, even as a toddler banging on a piano, had more musical talent than all of the Melarn women combined.

Rylbros and Phaere, long since disillusioned with drowic society, made plans to escape Ched Nasad and travel to the surface as a bardic duo when Phaere was around 50 years old. However, during the Silence of Lolth in 1372, Ched Nasad was attacked by Duergar mercenaries, sent by the matron mother of House Melarn's rival house, House Zauvirr. The mercenaries were ordered to kill every last Melarn, and Rylbros and Phaere tried to escape the burning wreckage of their home during the attack.

Rylbros was captured, giving Phaere just enough time to run to freedom. Believing Rylbros to be dead, Phaere ran for days into the wilds of the Underdark, collapsing at the edge of Araumycos, a giant fungal structure located between the ruins of Ched Nasad and Menzoberranzan.

There, she stumbled upon a colony of Myconids. Delirious and dehydrated, Phaere played her flute for the Sovereign, unable to do anything else for fear of being killed. Instead, the Sovereign released rapport spores, and taking pity on the young drow, it decided to take Phaere into its colony. She lived with the Myconid colony through several cycles, working as a dedicated bard and tour guide for travelers and as a caretaker for juvenile myconids. It was through this 60-year experience that Phaere unlearned some of her drow teachings, earning a new appreciation for surface races through meeting travelers and building up a connection with nature thanks to her fungal family.

At the encouragement of the third Sovereign, Phaere left the colony at the age of 110, having grown restless and wanting to travel the surface world to spread her music across the land, as she and Rylbros had dreamed of doing in their youth. She wasn't very successful as a bard, however, until she made it to Neverwinter, where she met a 40-something human bard by the name of Robin.

It was love at first sight.

Robin started as a mentor for Phaere, and then as a confidante and friend, teaching her about the intricacies of life on the surface, as well as cultivating her musical talent with other instruments (piano and the lyre, mainly). Robin, with their infinite patience and kindness, opened Phaere's heart to more experiences as the two traveled across Faerun, performing and dazzling audiences in taverns, city squares, and inns alike. Eventually, the two began a romantic relationship, and Phaere stayed with Robin until their dying breaths at the age of 92. The two never married (Robin was not the marrying type) but were faithfully committed for nearly 45 years, even as Robin encouraged Phaere to seek other experiences outside of their relationship.

Phaere never did. She knew she'd have plenty of time for love later in life.

After Robin's death, Phaere traveled alone for 15 years, leaving behind a string of flings and only casual acquaintances, not quite ready to open her heart to friendship or love until the events of BG3. On her way to Baldur's Gate when she was abducted by the Nautiloid, Phaere received a rude awakening in the form of a tadpole, and thus decided fairly quickly (with some bumps along the way) that life was too short and too unpredictable to wallow in loneliness and misery. Robin wouldn't have wanted her to do that.

#bg3 #bg3 tav #baldurs gate tav #my tav #tav oc #kayke ocs #Phaere Vrinn #drow oc #drow tav #drow culture

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azrithart · 9 months

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love your art sm! may i ask for mooore sarith lore

Thank you so much!

And certainly 🍄🍄🍄 There are so many things to say about this boi!

Sarith has been a guest character across multiple friends’ campaigns, and is a much loved NPC! Our OOTA campaign has been on hiatus, but there will be more one day!

(Light content warning for mentions of military/religious indoctrination, character trauma, and some character spoilers)

Sarith lore (from our OOTA):

Since there isn’t much on Sarith in the module, our GM yoinked some of Drizzt’s family lore as a starting base. Then inverted the arc 🗡

Sarith is the second son of a lesser noble house from Menzoberranzan.

He has three sisters and one older brother.

His older brother studied as a wizard in Sorcere.

House Kzekarit did not have any particular power or prestige. It dwelled in the shadow of larger Houses in Menzoberranzan.

It is allies with House Faen T’labbar, from the Ruling Council.

Matron Kzekarit is still alive and looking for her “traitorous” son! House Faen T’labbar recently got involved.

Sarith trained as a warrior in Melee-Magthere.

He went through the standard Drow warrior academy experience:

Train rigorously for ten years

Compete in a Battle Royale contest at the end of every year

Fight monsters in far caverns to learn team tactics

Test his blade in surface raids against the Elves (yikes), For Lolth™

Sarith seems to prefer ranged weapons in our campaign 🏹

His fighting style favors stealth and subterfuge over direct combat.

Though an average warrior, Sarith is quite perceptive and good with scouting/tracking! He navigated for the party through much of the Underdark.

Sarith never cared about glory or standing out; his main goal has been to lay low and survive for as long as possible. He’s never been in a position of power.

Soldier background: Sarith served under Ilvara Mizzrym as a raider and scout.

While not confirmed, I suspect that Sarith, Ilvara, Jorlan, Shoor, and Asha went through schooling around the same time in Menzoberranzan.

House Mizzrym is part of Menzo’s Ruling Council. In our campaign, Ilvara returned to Menzo in a fit of rage, conquered her house, and ascended to Matron. (One fear). She’s…pretty mad about the prison break.

Sarith has traveled to the surface multiple times on raids—he doesn’t understand why the party wants to return there. He expressed fear of going blind or burning alive under the sun.

When Sarith’s unit captured our favorite Myconid, Stool, Sarith was infected (with a certain spoiler) in Neverlight Grove. In tandem with memory loss, the infection altered some things in his brain.

Sarith feared he was cursed by a Lolth cleric or losing his mind. He killed a fellow soldier in a bout of madness, but wasn’t sure what happened.

Both Stool and Sarith are alive and with us! Sarith has been cured.

Complex alignment: Trauma vs. Illness. (Content warning applies here)

Like most people from Menzoberranzan, Sarith constantly watches his back. It wasn’t the infection from Neverlight that made him paranoid :( Even after his cure, Sarith remains hyper-vigilant, sullen, and defensive. He has lived through nearly 2 centuries of military and fanatical religious indoctrination.

Sarith is a soldier through and through. Yet he doesn’t seem to know what he believes.

Sarith admitted discomfort with Lolth’s doctrine. He’s always been helpful to the party out of obligation and survival. He knows he isn’t the most powerful person in the room.

Sarith claimed to never hold attachment anywhere in his life—no companions, no allies, no achievements.

He hasn’t even had space to figure out hobbies or interests.

(When the campaign resumes, a goal is to find out what his interests could be besides “I like having my head attached to my body”.)

Art and magic aren’t one of them.

Acts of kindness have surprised him every time. In Menzo!Drow language, the word for “friend” (abbil) is used as an ironic joke. This has made communication difficult at points. He expects he must give something back.

However, those moments Sarith has opened up, he has a very sweet smile ;U;

The infection actually made Sarith act more selfless and help defend the party out of more than obligation. Sarith had hoped to find a haven in Neverlight Grove.

Once cured of his infection, Sarith became more self-focused and superior in attitude D: He was cynical before. But now the snark has doubled!

Beneath the attitude, he seems terrified. Sarith claimed he didn’t believe there is a place for him anywhere—surface or Underdark. Perhaps that is one desire he’s scared to let himself consider.

Is he really Lawful Evil, or raised that way? There’s a lot going on there.

“Friendship? Love? Disgusting. (Give me more)”

By some chance, my spore druid Amarth bonded with Sarith.

They’re both grouchy, cynical, and jaded—somehow, they warmed up to each other after becoming allies. They probably would have slain each other under other circumstances.

Sarith is a noble and soldier who fears questioning his place. Amarth is a vengeance-driven mage that seeks to destroy Menzoberranzan and help nature reclaim the Underdark.

They accidentally introduced each other to the power of friendship. Now they’re both stumped.

They bicker often. They spent an early portion of the campaign gossiping in Drow silent code and debating plans. Later, Amarth just kept bugging Sarith, taking watches with him, and getting to know him.

Cue Gratuitous wound tending, hand holding, and promises of protection. The attention still seems to surprise Sarith. Perhaps some part of him dares to hope for a better future.

Feelings developed, but Amarth assumed his own were one-sided.

Until he bargained his soul for a Greater Restoration spell (and more power) to cure Sarith. Sarith was pissed. They had a pretty bad fight. (Great way to find out someone likes your dumb ass back, eh Amarth?)

Now Cured!Sarith seems flattered someone sacrificed their soul for him.

The GM mentioned once no one had cared for Sarith before, and Sarith cared for no one. This is the first time that’s changed.

After the cure, Sarith has only limited memories of recent experiences with the party. However, he’s still sticking with us. He doesn’t wish to go anywhere near Neverlight Grove. That’s…going to be a problem. Stool still wants to go home!

More fun facts:

Sarith doesn’t speak Common!

He seems to prefer the use of Sign over speech sometimes. Even in instances he didn’t need to stealth or be secretive :)

He likes tea!

He and Amarth each have a fucked up ring. Sarith’s is a fire resistance ring given in trust. Aaaaand Amarth’s is a spell storing ring from his soul deal pact….that’s grafted on.

Notable Sarith quotes:

“You don’t fuck with wizards.”

The frequent use of Drow sign language is something I loved so much from our campaign. I want to learn ASL one day :)

Sarith AU - from a Curse of Strahd campaign:

One of our friends and OOTA players GM’ed a Curse of Strahd campaign! He guest-featured the Abyss crew in the Amber Temple.

In the AU, things went wrong in OOTA. His PC, an Eladrin necromancer, became a lich to save everyone ;-; PC’s and NPC’s alike.

This resulted in everyone’s ah…reanimation. Half the party kept their memories, and the other half kept their physical fighting abilities.

Sarith chose to keep his mind. His body suffered as a result.

I guest-played toward the end of the campaign as undead!Amarth. He had only some of his memories intact, but knew he needed to find his way back to the others.

They were all reunited! All except the two paladin PC’s, whose souls moved on and resisted reanimation.

Sarith got married! We had a zombie wedding and everything officiated by another friend’s Strand PC! (Who is the besets of bois)

This started as a joke. I was going to have Amarth cast the Ceremony spell to buff himself and Sarith with a +1 AC for a week.

Amarth and Sarith had a small, sweet Elven-style wedding.

At the end of the campaign, their lives were restored and sent back to the material plane to hunt the demon possessing Amarth’s soul.

Sarith has also appeared in another one of our friend’s Ravnica campaign, my homebrew campaign Elysion, and more!

[1] if you like the art of him, there’s plenty more Sarith in my webcomic, Sporeblood!

Sarith and Amarth’s dynamic in our OOTA campaign hit exactly the kind of enemies-to-friends-to-lovers I love in fiction. Sporeblood is a separate world, universe, and story. Though has nothing to do with Faerun or OOTA, the dynamic is there! And plenty of Elves, magic, and spookiness galore. I made the joke back in 2019 that while I shipped it, “at least I’m not planning some epic Drow romance comic.” 4 years later, I am eating those words.

Thanks again! If you have any more q's or are curious about details, I'm happy to answer 🍄 -Az

#sarith kzekarit #dnd character #dnd #drow #dark elf #drow elf #drow culture #azrithart #azrith rambles #azrith answers #asks

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serpentoflolth · 16 days

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Aqua Regia

New chap: Wounded Heart New chap: The Beast

Plot: In Menzoberranzan love seems not to exist, almost as if it were an unknown feeling, or hidden behind the rock walls of the buildings, the veils that adorn the rooms, behind blood-stained screens. There seems to be only obedience to Lolth, the Mother of Destiny, and to her priestesses, to the Matron Mothers who compete for power, ruling from their houses: a war that wears out but amuses the Spider Queen. But what happens if love blossoms between two young drow, belonging to two different houses who have the common goal of overthrowing the Baenre and conquering their power? Unaware of their respective Matron Mother’s thirst for power, the two just want to be together and give in to lust and passion. Yet, something lurks in the shadows, someone who spies on them and holds a grudge, to the point of having the possibility of destroying everything they desire. Will they be able to have a happy ending, there, in that city governed by Lolth? Or will they have to run away? Series: The intrigue of the Spider Chap. 1: Melodious Symphony Chap. 2: The Pale Rose Rating: Mature Ship: Original drow Character & original drow character Characters: Franceska Qilin, Elamszar Barrison Del'Armgo, Tristan Dilyrr (my ocs and others who’ll appear in the next chapters), Mez'Barris Armgo, Uthengentel Armgo, Taayrul Armgo. That’s an original work based on the Dungeons & Dragons universe.

Excerpt:

Could I blame her? She was telling the truth, but it stung when her lips spoke it. It was like ice on a burn, salt on a wound that was bleeding profusely, it was a dense agony that broke all the bones, lowering my defences. I lowered my gaze, staring at the street beneath my feet, avoiding any contact with the people walking through the Narbendellyn district. How distant was our abode? Yet, I couldn't hide there and give vent to what her statement had aroused in me. After all, feelings didn't exist in that city, much less in our homes. Could I sink into sadness? Could I allow myself to cry because my sister had admitted the plain and simple truth? I would have been even more pathetic than I really was. In fact, I would have done anything Mez'Barris said to not make her angry and to not make her hate me further. Could there be a shred of affection in her stony heart?

Read on AO3

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porphyriosao3 · 8 months

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Buried Pasts

"I want to apologize," Gale said uncertainly from the edge of the clearing. Tav glanced up, then away, mouth still pressed in a firm line. "I'm not sure what... that is, I certainly didn't mean..."

"If we are going to spend much more time together, Gale, you should understand that when I say 'leave me alone for a bit' it's in your best interest to do so," the drow snapped. After a moment Tav visibly forced his anger away, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose. "No, you're here now, I suppose. By all means, sit." Gale stepped forward with a cautious look, seating himself on a fallen log after a drying cantrip ensured the dampness wouldn't soak through his pants. Tav folded down as well, though barely within arm's reach - some habits were very hard to break.

"I... thought I was paying you a compliment," the wizard murmured. "I certainly never meant anything..." he trailed off.

"I know." Tav's fingers smoothed across his thighs, erasing invisible wrinkles from the fabric of his trousers. "We all have pasts, Gale." Turning, red eyes caught dark ones in the gloom. Tav's moon-pale hair seemed to glow in the evening gloaming. "Tell me, then. If I said 'it seems strange that you bother to be good at magic when you could have stayed Mystra's toy boy', how would you feel?" Hurt flashed across the bearded face.

"Toy boy?" Gale said, face flushing and clearly making an effort to restrain his fury. "I never... I wasn't..."

"Exactly. But in some contexts, it could seem that she groomed you into a loving relationship, couldn't it? Made herself the focal point of your life, kept you from other friends, made her opinion of you - her praise - the most important thing in your life?" Gale was clearly furious now, breath coming hard. Tav gave a polished, brittle smile that would have made Astarion proud to give it. "You see how things change based on how they are presented?"

"I don't have to sit here and listen to..." Gale shouted before stopping himself and taking a breath. "Alright. Alright. I'm going to try to see what you're saying, and ignore how insulted I feel right now, because I'm sure there's a reason. Please explain to me what I said that made you think saying that was justified." Tav was impressed, in spite of himself; he was half expecting the wizard to storm off. He wasn't sure it would have been the worst thing; he really didn't want to explain himself, but it seemed that was in the cards after all.

"As you say," Tav grimaced. "You have survived the return strike, custom demands that you receive your explanation." At Gale's raised eyebrows, Tav smiled mirthlessly. "A custom of my people, you see. Not one most survive encountering, but you have done so. When we are hurt, we offer the same hurt back. To fail to do so is a mark of weakness... or intentional disrespect. I respect you enough to return the blow, and... and I will never again be too weak to do so." The jet black features were as still as a statue made of obsidian, but Tav's eyes burned. "Never again."

"I... see," Gale said as he clearly did not. "Thank you? Maybe? Though if that is how I made you feel I apologize again. It wasn't..."

"Words do not apologize, my sweet," Tav smiled. "Words are a weak reed. Deeds are everything. Let me tell you a tale, then, so that you will understand. Say there was a child... a noble child, but a man-child. No future priestess, this, nor general, for all his famous blood and his family's prestige in the service of the Lady of Webs. His name was long, his lineage storied, but at the end he was just a boy. Useless." Gale's eyebrows drew down, clearly visible to Tav in the gloom. Clearly the wizard was beginning to understand. Tav wished he wouldn't, but... honor demanded the rest of the story. Sometimes he hated being Drow. "Say also, that this family had enemies, as all the great houses of Menzoberranzan did, and do, and ever will. Say that those enemies demanded a penance for a wrong, real or imagined, and this family decided that their son... this useless, worthless son... be offered as their sacrifice. He was pretty, this boy, and his blood was the purest of the pure. He had all the marks of the highborn. His hair was cobweb pale, his skin was clear and obsidian-dark, he... he had the web of the Lady as a birthmark." Gale's harsh inhale was clearly audible. He had seen that mark himself on his lover's shoulder. "He was sent to the Houses of Pleasure, since many of the lowborn would revel in the chance to bed one of the great ones, you see?" He smiled, a twisted, angry thing. "To take some tiny bit of their misery out on one who could represent those who had wronged them."

"Tav..." the wizard's hand found his arm and he twitched away, not wanting to be touched. "I'm... I had no idea."

"This boy," Tav continued evenly, voice stable as if he was telling a bedtime story, "this boy went with all the pride in his house, and for ten long years he was trained in the ways of so-called pleasure. Pleasure for others, of course; never for him. Even so, he was taught each step, and that vaunted pride of his was taken from him slice by slice, piece by piece, bit by bit... until there was nothing left but a fearful whore." For the first time his voice trembled, just a bit; these were not memories he could stand to examine much. "His name was taken, of course; there was no possible reason to allow a prostitute a name longer than a single syllable. And so it stayed, for years. Long, long years."

The woods had darkened while Tav spoke, and he knew Gale could no longer see in the gloom though the wizard's face was as clear to him as if they sat in bright daylight. He knew, also, that Gale wasn't thinking of that, else he would never have let his horror show on his face like he was. "And..." the wizard rasped, then cleared his throat before continuing. "And what happened then? To... to this boy?"

"Ah," Tav said, "a curious thing. One day, this boy... now a man, full-grown, though accounted just as lovely... one day there was a shaking of the earth. Earth tremors on the surface are unnerving, I'm told, but unless severe they are disregarded. In the Underdark, tremors are deadly, and more than. They are the killers of many. Menzoberranzan is guarded by webs of spells, but Lady Lolth thinks it amusing to have them fail betimes. It is how she keeps her faithful needy, you see... and one day, a quake struck and the web failed. Just a bit, but enough to smash the House of Painful Flowers. And this noble son, he saw a chance to escape his life of misery, if only by an early death, so into the rent in the wall he went. Racing, falling, stumbling, he went, until he was scraped and bleeding, and even his eyes were failing to pierce the gloom. And there in the deepest places he found a room lost in time. There was a statue there, and on the statue there was a symbol that was like nothing this boy - this man - had ever seen. And there he bargained with the thing that statue was made to represent, and there he got the power he needed to escape the guards who searched for him, to make his way to the surface, to begin to actually live after decades of living death."

"How long... how long had you..." Gale began to ask before an ebon hand sealed his mouth.

"Shut up," Tav hissed furiously. "Not me! Keep your tongue still, and do not offer me insult. I do not say this is anything to do with... with... just be silent, for once." If Gale couldn't realize that Tav would have to kill him if he insisted. He drew in a shuddering breath before continuing. "Some say that once this person we discuss had come to the surface, they were barely there a week before he was captured by a flying ship of the haszakkin. But others may tell the story differently. We may never know the truth." With that traditional ending, he pulled his hand away, hoping the wizard had heard everything... including the bits that could not be said.

"I... yes, well," Gale said, picking his way with care. "It seems to me that a young man in that situation - any young man - is far braver than anyone gave them credit for, and deserves nothing but the best ending to their story." Tav was silent, ignoring the moisture on one cheek. The hand on his back was more welcome, now; it seemed the wizard had heard him after all. Perhaps he wasn't totally hopeless. "And... I think now I understand why anyone would make a deal such as you describe. So would I. So would anyone."

"Let's go back to camp," was Tav's response. If he held the wizard's hand on their way back... it was only to guide him safely, of course.

#baldurs gate 3 #tav #gale #drow culture

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rosegardenpink · 6 days

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something something drow men are only kept around as breeding stock and then aren't even allowed to raise their own children (!!!)

#i'm thinking about drow gender politics again today #i'm so fascinated by them #dnd #drow culture #jonathan rambles

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lunastrophe · 1 month

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BG3 Drow Lore 🕷️ Minthara's alurlssrin

Alurlssrin is a drow term Minthara uses to describe the bond she shares with Tav - but what does it precisely mean?

🕷️ Alurlssrin In BG3 - alurlssrin appears in some specific Minthara’s lines, when the player character romances her. According to Narrator, it is …a word used rarely, describing the deepest bonds of trust and love.

When asked about it, Minthara says simply that alurlssrin means “love” and confesses that she never really expected to use it. In another line, she seems to be convinced that alurlssrin is the kind of bond that can be life-lasting.

When Tav tries to reciprocate, saying: I alurlssrin you too, Minthara – with a hint of amusement – explains that alurlssrin is a noun.

The alurl- part may suggest that this word means “the best” kind of an emotional bond, or something close to it (alurl – “best, foremost” in Drowic).

🕷️ Alurlssrin And Ssinssrigg - in R. A. Salvatore’s The Legacy, it is stated that …there is no word in the drow language for love. The closest word (...) is ssinssrigg, but that is a term better equated with physical lust or selfish greed.

Ssinssrigg is another term that appears in one of Minthara’s lines, when the player character romances her, but does not have her high approval. She says then: What we share is no more than ssinssrigg, a passion that burns fierce, but has no foundation.

But... since according to drow lore, there is no word for “true” love in Drowic – and the closest term is ssinssrigg - where did alurlssrin come from?

🕷️ Drow Words For Love - alurlssrin was first mentioned by Ed Greenwood in his post (TheEdVerse, Twitter, Jan. 2023) about Eilistraee and drow words for love:

Eilistraee knows all the drow words for love, and the elvish ones, too. The Drow words are: alurlssrin = unselfish, deep love, raggath = act of love (lovemaking), lurraggath = act of love (sacrificial or noble deed), ssinssrigg = passion, lust, greed, longing, love.

(Among elvish words for love, apparently also known to Eilistraee, there is nor = love, essence of passion. It also appears in one of Minthara's lines, when she calls her lover ust-nor - thank you to @vspin for messaging me about this!)

It seems, then, that alurlssrin is a drow word that is known to Eilistraee and most likely to her followers...

...but Lolth-sworn drow – or at least Menzoberranyr drow – do not know / use it. 🤔 So how is it possible that Minthara, a (former) paladin of Lolth from Menzoberranzan, is familiar with it?

🕷️ Alurlssrin In Minthara's Vocabulary

I have a feeling that alurlssrin appears in Minthara’s lines simply because a drow word for deep, true love was needed for the dialogue. Still, I tried to come up with some more lore-adequate explanations:

🕷️ Some Very Old Word – perhaps in Menzoberranzan, alurlssrin is a half-forgotten archaism that is no longer regularly used, but an educated (or bookwormish) drow can still stumble across it in centuries-old books and figure out its meaning.

🕷️ Language Of Heretics – as a paladin of Lolth, it is possible that Minthara came to contact with Eilistraeans – or with their culture – at some point. She might be even trained to recognize this particular kind of “heresy”, learning symbols and words popularly used among the followers of Eilistraee... alurlssrin included.

🕷️ Not So Unknown Anymore – language tends to change over time, and between the quote from The Legacy and the events of Baldur’s Gate 3, there is a gap of over 130 years. Maybe during this time, alurlssrin term became less unknown in Menzoberranzan? Although considering its connection to Eilistraee and her cult, this may be the least likely explanation.

Regardless of everything, the fact that Minthara calls the bond between her and Tav alurlssrin is certainly meaningful. Typically, many drow like her might not be exactly (or at all) familiar with a sheer concept of deep, unselfish, lasting love...

For more of my drow lore ramblings, feel free to check my pinned post 🕷️

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #minthara #minthara baenre #lolth sworn drow #drow lore #drow culture #dnd lore #dark elves #drow #bg3 drow lore #bg3 drow

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