To save myself from the monotony of rewriting TGD, I've started a fun project in Ellipsus. Not sure when I'm going to post it, but it's a post-game spawn fic that's been sitting in my head for a while. Doesn't even have a title...
tldr: 40 years post the Netherbrain, the spawn are rehoused in the old Shar Temple after it's rebuilt. Though Shar and the fiends seemed to have abandoned it, something still looms in the dark. It’s an AU in world but not congruent to my current long fic though Abbi (who isn’t isekai) is in this too.
Thank you @bladesingerlily @optimisticgrey @thesanguinesonnet & @kt-catt
“Do what you want, Dal. I’m not your mother. But, if you want to get what you’re lusting for, go and get it already.” Violet spun on a foot, skirt swinging, and headed to her own quarters. She was tired of her family and their nonsense. Especially if it involved rescuing someone who clearly wanted to drown in his own sorrows and anger. It might do him some good to lay dead at the bottom of the pit for a week.
Granted, that would mean someone going down to snap his neck daily — a responsibility she would lovingly bear.
She skipped down the same flight Dalyria had just come up. This portion of the old Shar Temple was more for public use, with an exception to Astarion’s chambers. His were on the top floor, connected to the Coven’s meeting room and a private kitchen, not that they needed it. It was mostly for easy access to those from the surface like Halsin if they chose to stay overnight or for a meal. Behind the kitchen was the Deep Rothe’s pasture they had dug out which was once some kind of small stable area. With the herd hidden behind one pair of doors, it kept any stray hungry spawn from going on a wild killing spree. They’d be dead before they hit the meeting room.
She stared out at the view. Enormous Shar effigies were kept in the rebuild due to their connection to the structure. There was no way to tear them down without tearing down the whole of the temple. Violet liked them. She considered getting an outfit commissioned in the likeness. With the frequency of true feeding, her caramel tones were back and worthy to show off. Unfortunately, most gods would rather set a vampire spawn on fire than let them worship. But, Shar was the goddess of the night and darkness, which was the only safe place that Violet and all 6,692 other spawn down here could ever know.
Shar would have to deal. She shouldn’t have had the best armor in the realms if she didn’t want a spawn to copy her.
Though, most of the temple sunk behind and below even the statues base which they coined ‘the pit’ since it was filled with skeletons and mostly decomposed bodies from whatever happened with the fiend Yugir. Astarion had, sort of, skimmed over whoever that had been on his journey. Apparently it had cleared this place of every jusiticiar which made it habitable for newcomers.
She crossed her arms as she gazed past the bloodied landing and all the floors from her vantage point. The fortress was enormous. It was supposed to house up to 15,000 people. It was like an underground town made for justiciars. They had taverns, bathhouses, apartments, shops, training rooms for weapons and magic, chapels, libraries, apothecaries, offices — near anything a whole community would need to survive. The only problem before they arrived was the rebuild. She had been here for part of it.
Duegar, drow, several Sharran historians, the bloody skeletal designer of Moonrise Towers, guildsmen, and many wizards and artificers came to help. It took almost a decade to just rebuild the upper portion, let alone finishing the crumbling internal infrastructure that held the rest of the temple housing and amenities. Reithwin was finished far before the temple was able to house anyone. Luckily, many of the spawn were craftsman and workers. So, they got to get out of their pens if they contributed.
The whole of the fortress was finally finished a whopping forty years later, which was six months ago. To Violet, it was like four days. She spent most of it plastering, painting, partying, and pleasuring, so it went by quickly. It was odd watching some of the faces on the surface grow old. She didn’t necessarily like thinking about that, electing to spend most of her time down here. In all that time, they slowly filled in the housing while working on how to feed everyone.
Not everyone was allowed to join.
Her eyes flicked to the stage where Astarion had died an hour ago. After he was pulled from the crypt for saving someone, he had threatened to bring home the worst he could find. And he had.
Not that any of them really knew or cared — until they had to free them. He had lured the notorious Kite Killer into Cazador’s clutches. The only reason Violet had recognized the man was because he had tried to hunt her one night. If she had tried to make him a mark, her skin would likely have been flying in the wind while she rotted in some dank basement.
But, that was just one of many. Well over five hundred people had to be killed. Most, the Sword Coast would never miss. So, she guessed they owed him a thanks four times over for not just saving them from Mind Flayers, the Dead Three, and Cazador.
Granted, Astarion also had them all kidnap a group of the youngest Gur children from their beds. All because he was on the cusp of another punishment that would likely last a few years for some blatant disrespect of Cazador. He’d embarrassed the master in front of some patriars by bringing home an heir after Cazador had him tortured for bringing him another violent mark that tried to kill him.
So, Astarion did a low blow and kidnapped the Gur children. Violet honestly thought it was to draw out the monster hunters to finally take out their master, but no. It was actually to appease him. Violet had lost all the admiration she’d started to have for Astarion’s resolve to fight back. That resolve was half of why she called him a runt. It was the fire he needed to keep going — since the rest of them gave up.
And despite whatever personal journey he’d been on with his friends to save the Sword Coast, when finally faced with what he’d done for the majority of his life, he reassumed his previous resignation. In her opnion, there were better ways to self-flaggilate than having someone beat the shit out of you weekly. She would know.
She crossed her arms as a chill rolled through her. She wasn’t used to having a body temperature now that she was regularly feeding on thinking blood.
She startled as a small body hefted itself over the bannister.
He paused awkwardly, clearly not expecting her either, “Well — hello Violence, how is my darling sister?”
She glared down at the gnome with clean cut pink and white hair, “Yousen, you petulant beast, I’m well aware of when you’re flattering me. Tell me what’s on. Now.”
His uneasy grin grew as he flashed behind her, then at her, “Actually, I could use you. I was hoping the prince was awake but you’ll do.”
She rolled her eyes, “Speak, now.”
A brow perked, “Did you eat them?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, “Well I was with Barcus.”
“Where is that little shit?”
He gaped up at her, “I won’t have you speak of him that way, I’m the only one allowed. And the trespasser in question is of a magical proficiency, so I may have been incapacitated while he got her locked up.”
“Are you fucking serious?”
“This is nothing like the shit you’ve pulled. Is the person you're wearing still living or did you toss that one in the Chionathar to be found by school children?”
She huffed though her nose, he had a good point. “Show me.”
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