hellridden

[hellridden]

my friends have me on a zev kick so give this a like for a starter <3

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my roommate thinks im wack for still liking zevlor post act 2 and im like did we play the same scene? whadda hell?

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had a dream last night about the party falling over themselves to keep Zevlor alive only for him to be attacked by one of their own and now I'm wondering about the durge being alone in a room with the ex paladin current leader of a bunch of vulnerable refugees

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the druids shift and he loses himself in the feel of battle. there is a swipe of massive claws that part the scale he wears like it's nothing, and the pain makes him fall back into old steps.

(he quietly, so quietly, wishes for his steed. the calvary training is strong under his skin, but it's useless without the thunder of hooves beneath him.)

he doesn't register her words until the sound of combat wanes away into the aftermath of cutting down those who still breathed and counting the surviving heads. he sees rolan with blood dripping from a gash in his brow and his fingertips burning with magic, and counts the lucky stars that convinced him to stay behind.

bethanne sags against him and he hooks his arm around her side to keep her upright. he can stand, but only because he thinks he won't get back up if he sits down.

tilses appears with blood from a split lip and her armor barely hanging onto her, but she's blessedly alive and zevlor could cry from the relief of it.

" yes, i'm here -- i'm. . .i'm here. gods, woman, you are mad for getting between us. "

he laughs as he says it, letting her sit on the edge of a crate.

" sit. i -- i thank you, for that madness. "

The war cries seemed to have sparked up a GUST OF DESPERATION, wild shapes forming about the two in the guise of a large polar bear and wolf.

BITES, GNAWS, CLAWS, all of the likes TORE INTO ARMOR AND SHREDDED METAL ASIDE FOR GAIN OF SUPPLE FLESH, THE BATTLEFIELD RIDDLED WITH THE STENCH OF FRESH BLOOD. Had it been back in the day, Bethanne would have stood valiantly on her own two feet with broken armory — but those days were put behind her in favor of a more PACIFIST route ever since she regained magic, flipping the page to sorcery rather than knighthood.

And boy was she paying for that. Simple velvety robes did NOTHING to shield her from DEATH.

“ Ghhhhnn…h-how are you holding up? Can you stand? Please, Zevlor — “

She was seeing in twos. Don’t pass out — not now. Not when you can save a life.

[hellridden]

it had started with the sound of screaming echoing through the hollow where he stood over a map with tilses, planning their route to baldur's gate. with any hope, there would be a path forward once the goblins were beaten back from the main road.

the screaming reminds him all at once of the hells, the people at his protection, and he feels rage build like nausea in his throat when he orders tilses to start bringing refugees into the hollow to hide.

there is talk (shouting, really) of thievery and zevlor is at once disappointed and proud that the children have managed to find a hiding space from the druids.

that hardly mattered now when he's spilling enough blood to turn the dirt to his feet to mud as he clutches the old hellrider's sword and bellows orders to those still standing.

bethanne slams between them and he lifts his head to listen to her demands.

" if you think the city of judgement awaits me, you're dearly mistaken. "

the words taste like blood, even as he braces his shoulder with hers to stand upright, sword lifted.

" at your side, soldier -- move! "

THE SHEER PANIC WAS IMMEASURABLE.

War was not foreign to her — but when things go south this swiftly, it’s hard not to be taken back and PUSHED INTO A STATE OF PARANOIA. Eyes darted every which way, drinking in the UNRULY SIGHT OF BLOOD AND CHARRED FLESH. The druids were HELLBENT ON MASSACRING the tieflings, and they seemed to be doing a great job at it on account of all the AGONIZED SCREAMING.

Swallowing thickly, the sorceress stumbled down the lane and could not pick which fight to partake in — until hearing the familiar cry of Zevlor by Ethel’s stand, her head SNAPPING in his direction and hands nearly FUMBLING her sword. The damned leader was cornered not only by Kagha, but two other druids as well, his body is AWFUL SHAPE.

Without thinking, the vampire spawn SHOVED herself in between them, taking a HARD HIT TO THE FACE THAT CAUSED BLACK ICHOR TO SPEW FROM HER NOSE AND MOUTH.

“ FUCK — STAY UP! STAY UP, DAMN YOU, DON’T YOU DARE DIE ON ME OR I WILL DRAG YOUR SOUL BACK FROM THE CITY OF JUDGEMENT MYSELF! “

@hellridden

[hellridden]

me looking up oathbreaker skills for a thread--

[hellridden]

there is a space at the base of the sword where a paladin oath once was, but has since been removed with deep gouges.

@HELLRIDDEN, an independent roleplay blog for hellrider exile zevlor from larian's baldur's gate three. written by vlad, a sideblog to swordpact.

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how about a starter call here as well --

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twirls hair. you should send me questions for / about Zevlor.

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appreciate the sad tiefling guy please I'm obsessed with him

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also the flame effect in his eyes is a leftover from the hells -- his eyes were a vibrant yellow before the descent, and the flames are a remnant of the hellfires he fought in

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zevlors paladin oath progression realistically was:

- pre descent: oath of devotion

- in the hells: oath of conquest

- still in the hells, but just before escaping / in act 1+2: oathbreaker

- act 3: potentially back to oath of devotion if you take him to the tabernacle

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we both got lucky.

it brings to mind the phrasing of escaping hell with their heels still smoking, and zevlor recalls perfectly the sulphur smell of avernus around him. he takes another mouthful of wine to ignore it, breathing in the smell of grapes and the sick sweetness of the alcohol.

he should be out there talking with the others, but. . .alas, here he is, standing by a past neither of them wanted to discuss truly.

he lets his gaze follow vespin's as well, his head tilted to watch wyll heckling rolan into a demonstration. it makes his heart warm to see it, to see the people he had kept alive thus far.

" yes, it seems we did. the others are unlikely to recognize you. tilses, perhaps, but her memories of the front are less clear than mine. "

he swirls the glass in an anxious gesture before he speaks up again.

" what are you calling yourself here, if not your true name? and. . .do you plan to make for the city? we'll be going to baldur's gate, gods willing. "

it felt strange. walking freely among mortals and having few turn their heads; no screams of horror and no shriveling panic. the only attention came from his current group of companions' heroic deeds. vespin wasn't used to being thanked. and he wondered if they would still thank him should they learn of who and what he was. other than that, the infernal mage almost went unnoticed, almost – dare he think – blend in.

but of course, his sins were never erased, and the past was yet too close. he recognized zevlor and decided the approach ... for what reason vespin could not tell. only that zevlor mentioned chains, and vespin could do nothing but avert his eyes.

“ i got lucky. ” he replied in earnest. he had lived in lies and under the hooves of the lord of lies himself for too long, it was liberating to be honest. “ there are still mysteries and unanswered questions, but ... ” he looked over to the unlikely group of heroes. “ seems like we both got lucky. ”

[hellridden]

there is a space at the base of the sword where a paladin oath once was, but has since been removed with deep gouges.

@HELLRIDDEN, an independent roleplay blog for hellrider exile zevlor from larian's baldur's gate three. written by vlad, a sideblog to swordpact.

[hellridden]

Some loose stylisation. He’s in the middle of training. 😉

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i want to hug him SO bad

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❝ this is what i was made for. the dance, the sweet steel song, a sword in my hand and a foe before me. ❞

" it's easy to fall into that line of thinking. "

he should know. zevlor has held a sword since he was but a boy with budding horns, dreamt of a calvary saddle and the bright white armor of the hellriders for just as long. once a soldier, always a soldier.

florence is young yet, and he finds himself sighing in the way a mentor shouldn't at a protege.

" you are a talented fighter, true enough, but if i might offer some unwarranted advice? make time for softer things. steel has a way of singing too sweetly, so that those who wield it never let it rest. "