“Iggy” She/Her Main/Only blog housing my BG3 content mostly featuring my silverhair knight turned warlock. New to drow lore and growing obsession. I try to stay lore accurate but some personal headcanons/homebrew may appear. Be kind. I LOVE tags but I will be very slow to get to them.
i’m going to be really honest with you guys i think the tendency to read the absolute worst possible intentions into every action you don’t agree with is getting too automatic and it’s eating you from the inside out
sometimes when you're travelling you will see a beautiful unique bird that captures your attention completely and you will discover that the locals call it the Boring Sparrow and there's 70 000 000 of them and they eat nothing but spicy chicken wings they find in dumpsters.
Face your fears, boy. I couldn't have done it without you.
Keptolo is so proud of him.
(mini fic below the cut.)
Baereghel was desolate, far from the place Elendar once knew.
Cliffside home fallen into ruin, and thick spider silk threads covered corners and crevases. How far the town had fallen in his absence. Because of his absence.
This had Keptolo's desperation all over it.
"Stay close. Stay silent. He has eyes and ears everywhere." Elendar signed to his companions. Miming the closing of lips for Lachrymose's and Astarion's benefit. He could at least trust Tarlyn to keep the cleric close. Astarion was more than used to moving silently in the dark. though his darkvision did seem to be weaker than the others.
His companions nodded in return and followed Elendar's lead through the small, nearly abandoned town.
Elendar moved quickly from shadow to shadow, trying to avoid the sticky webs. It would only take one misstep to signal to whatever giant spiders Lolth had seen fit to grant Keptolo. But what Elendar hadn't account for was movement.
In the dim light of the town being held up by whatever remaining loyal wizards to Keptolo and Lolth, a shadow flickered past. Soft steps of multiple tiny feet skittered by, claws echoing down empty streets. The sound of sharp thin claws scratched against stone paths.
Elendar froze. His eyes darted over his surroundings, trying to listen quietly for the source of the noise. There's a gasp behind him. Followed by the sound of a hand slapping over the source's mouth. The bard turns back to look at his companions to evaluate the situation.
In the dim faerie fire he sees everyone with their hands ready on their weapons, with Myrae's hand covering her mouth and her hand outstretched, pointing to something moving in the dark.
"Drider," she hisses in drow. Her face covering barely hid the disgust that formed as the creature lumbers slowly towards the group.
The bard turns quickly to face the oncoming creature, ready to deceive it and convince it that they are there to join in Keptolo's radiance. As the creature takes a step forward into the light, Elendar's shoulders drop. His face falls as he looks up into the creature's face.
Disfigured and repulsive, he can still see the remnants of her.
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