#Tav x Barcus

[averyshittyseal]

It has been a month since the end of Concord, but no matter what, it's still in my damn mind!

EVERYBODY! GO READ "CONCORD" BY @solace-saphylos !!! HERE ON AO3!! BECAUSE IT DESERVES MORE ATTENTION!!!!

[fatale-distraction]

If requests are open literally all I want and need in life is more spice Barcus content. I need to see his ego stroked and his confidence blossom, he deserves so much pussy.

Here’s some completely unedited filthy filthy smut for you!

*I am writing Barcus as pansexual like the rest of the companions. He still very much likes cock but right now cunt is what’s on the menu.

*Lithe is also pan.

*I don’t care if I made him a little too good at eating snatch, the man is intuitive and creative, he can figure it out.

Progress toward Baldur’s Gate had been slow, but Lithe had adamantly refused to press ahead, insisting on staying with the caravan of tieflings to protect them, at least until Rivington. After two tendays of travel, they were finally within sight of the massive gates. With another day of good weather, they’d be in Rivington.

Barcus watched Lithe from the ground as she perched precariously atop the massive, crumbling stone building that sheltered their camp for the night. He’d spent the last five days trying to work up the courage to invite her to spend the night with him, and had shied away each time. With Rivington just over the horizon, tonight might just be his last opportunity for some time alone with her. They had already agreed to part ways there, if only temporarily. Lithe would continue on her quest, and Barcus would go after Wulbren one last time, not to grovel for scraps of attention, but to keep him from doing something terrible. His childhood friend’s obsession with runepowder and the redemption of the Ironhands could only bode ill.

“You can do this, old boy,” Barcus muttered to himself, swinging his arms and lifting himself up and down on his toes as though preparing for a show of acrobatics. “Just…go up there and—“

There was a whoosh of air and a thwump as Lithe plummeted to the ground in a flurry of Weave-feathers, landing mere steps away, a spell-scroll disintegrating in her hands.

“Nevermind.” Barcus perked up a bit. Without the daunting prospect of all those stairs to climb, maybe his courage wouldn’t fail him this time. The elven woman turned as he trotted up to her, a smile breaking across her face. “Should you be wasting those scrolls?”

“I have like ten of them,” she replied. “You’d be amazed what you find poking around in other people’s bookshelves.”

“I’m sure I would,” laughed Barcus, reaching for her hand and refusing to acknowledge how much it shook. “I…I wanted to talk to you about something, before I, well. Before I lose my nerve, to be honest.”

Lithe tilted her head at him, concern in her silvery eyes, and came down to one knee, drawing him closer as she did. She didn’t have to; most people didn’t bother. But Barcus appreciated being able to converse without craning his neck. “Is anything wrong?” she asked, brows upturned.

“N-no, not at all, I just—“ he stammered a bit, suddenly forgetting every word he’d rehearsed over the last month on the road. He shook his head and took a stabilizing breath. Slow. “I…had wondered.”

“…yes?”

“I had wondered if you…” He huffed, impatient with his own pussyfooting. “If you wanted to spend the evening with me tonight.” There. He breathed a sigh of relief. It was done.

Lithe blinked at him. “Barcus we’ve spent every evening together this last month. You didn’t have to ask.”

He could have shaken her. Barcus passed a hand down his face. “I meant…intimately.”

“Intima—ooooohhhh.” Realization dawned on her face, slowly curling into a devious smirk. “You naughty little man,” Lithe teased, draping her arms around his neck and touching her nose to his.

He couldn’t help the nervous chuckle that rattled in his throat. He’d been terrified of this moment, yet yearning for it for weeks. Although they’d had plenty of time for the heavier kind of petting and she’d gone down on him more than once since their first time, he hadn’t felt confident enough to venture any further, although guilt rankled him every night. He wanted at least to be able to return the courtesy she’d shown him at least two and a half times.

“Come to my tent later tonight,” murmured Lithe, kissing his cheek and moving slowly toward his ear. Barcus shivered. “After the others are asleep.”

Barcus ducked into Lithe’s tent and his jaw very nearly dropped to the floor. Lithe was waiting for him, her damp hair loose and falling to her waist in gently curling green waves. Her skin was flushed and dewy from a fresh scrubbing, silver eyes glinting mischievously in the flickering light of several glass lanterns she’d hung from the canopy of her tent. She wore nothing more than a short, loose shift, practically translucent and barely held together by a pair of skimpy lace scraps over her shoulders.

“Oh,” wheezed Barcus.

Lithe gave a good-natured laugh. “Too much?”

“Not in any sense of the term,” he choked out.

She held her arms out to him and giggled again as he hurriedly shrugged out of his coat and flung himself the rest of the way across the tent. She caught him and let herself fall backward, kissing him noisily as they hit the soft pile of blankets she’d spread across the ground.

Barcus lost no time kissing his way down her jaw and the long arch of her neck, palming her small breasts as he went. Lithe hummed and squirmed in approval while he buried his face against her chest. She smelled like lavender and birch, crisp and sweet. Her nipples were hard when he pinched them between his fingers, her breath caressing his cheek as she gasped and arched against him.

Lithe was more impatient than he was. Barcus barely had time to pull back to avoid being caught up in her shift as she yanked it up over her head and flung it across the tent. Taken aback, but eager to feel her skin against his, Barcus followed suit and tugged his own shirt off. Lithe’s lips crashed to his again, her hands smoothing down his chest and stomach, fingers hooking into the lacing of his breeches.

“W-wait…” the gnome stammered, pulling back with a soft wet smack as their lips parted. Lithe made a disappointed noise, but abandoned plucking at the leather cord. “I…I meant…”

Lithe ran the back of a finger down his cheek and he shuddered, lifting a hand to hers and closing his eyes. “Take your time, darling,” she murmured. Barcus tightened his fingers around hers and pressed a kiss to her palm.

“What I was trying to say,” he started again. “Was that it’s my turn this time.”

A soft smile drifted across her lips, and she lifted an eyebrow at him. “Oh?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “But…well. I have to admit that I’m…nervous. I don’t have as much experience with women.”

Gentle lips pressed against his forehead. “It’s alright,” Lithe assured him. “Do what feels good, and I’ll tell you what doesn’t.” Another deep kiss silenced any further misgivings he might have had. His hands dropped from her waist to her thick thighs, parting them as he slid his palms over the soft, tender flesh. Lithe let out a small, shaky breath and leaned back against the blankets again, watching with shining eyes as he ran his fingers through sparse, wiry curls and bent his head. He parted her with both hands and dragged his tongue experimentally up through her folds. Lithe bit down on her lips as her hips lifted with the motion, already wet and aching for more. Barcus gave her a few more slow, long strokes, mapping each contour and mentally cataloguing anything that made her seize or tremble or moan. He lifted his head and repeated the soft strokes with his fingers as he repositioned himself between her legs. Lithe lowered a hand to guide him to the aching bud at her apex, giving him an encouraging squeeze of her thighs. Barcus gave a little moan and pressed his cheek to the soft flesh of her thigh before lowering his mouth to suck at her gently. A shiver ran through her and the blankets rustled as she keened and twisted her fists in the fabric.

“Like this,” she murmured breathlessly, moving her fingers over his to show him how to massage her between two fingers. He lapped at her clit and sucked her down to the root, pulling back until she nearly slipped out and then taking her back in. Her mouth hung open and she writhed, soft gasps ripping out of her chest. She panted his name, urging him on with a desperate, nonsensical plea. Barcus gave her clit another long lick that had her biting through a trembling moan.

“Fingers,” she gasped, hips straining. “Please…”

He hastened to obey, tucking his two middle fingers into her and curling them upwards at her urgent suggestion. She was slick and warm, glistening fluid dripping down the ample curve of her ass as he carefully began to pump his fingers in and out. The wet noise made by each thrust has his mouth watering for her again. Even though he could hardly catch his breath, he clamped his mouth over her again and fluttered his tongue against her throbbing clit as his palm slapped wetly against her. His arm was beginning to ache and his jaw felt stiff but the noises coming from the writhing woman beneath him were so delicious, he couldn’t bring himself to stop. She whimpered and whined and his cock pressed hard against the seam of his breeches. Her breath caught in her throat, her back bent, and her thighs clasped hard around him, her breaths coming fast and loud and she gave a shuddering sob. Hot, slick juice dribbled down Barcus’ chin and he fell back gulping air like a drowning man. The world was a watery blur for Lithe, dizzy with ecstasy. Her limbs tingled heavily as she made a valiant attempt to push herself up on her elbows. A tear streaked down one flushed cheek.

“Sweet merciful hells, Barcus,” she gasped as he let his head flop down against her stomach, still breathing hard. “Do you kiss your mother with that filthy mouth?”

“Please don’t mention my mother while I’m between your legs,” he wheezed.

“Sorry, just…” she swallowed thickly. “Hanali’s tits, I thought you said you didn’t have a lot of experience with women?”

“I am nothing if not determined,” he mumbled into the soft flesh of her belly.

Lithe huffed a little laugh, stroking the back of his head absently. “Well. That’s certainly one way to put it.”

[thetavolution]

LOBELIA

Full name: Lobelia Springflower Name meaning:  Lobelia: a type of flower; Springflower: self-explanatory  Pronouns: They/Them Race: Strongheart Halfling Age: 30 Orientation: Pansexual Romance: Barcus Wroot (Potentially) Class: Barbarian Subclass: Wildheart Origin: Folk Hero  Theme song:  I’m Born to Run - American Authors / Shut Up and Dance - WALK THE MOON

Personality Everyone knows Lobelia is the life of any party. They’re nomadic in nature and they’re always ready for a fight or a meal. But they have a good heart and save their sword swinging to fight evil. They do love the chaos of battle and protecting the weak. They love to look out for the little guy.

Although they’re a nomad, they do appreciate hearth and home. It’s just that home is anywhere they want it to be. Home is usually determined by who is around them and not what. They’re cheerful, affable, and boisterous. 

They come from a huge tight-knit family. Being far from home can be difficult, but they visit regularly. Their family and friends are the most important thing in their life; they’ll kill and die for them. They care about their community. They want to take care of people while indulging in their love of jumping headfirst into things. Generous to a fault, they’ll share everything they have with others. 

They love discovering new things, even something small like a new food or clothing style. They hate to see living things suffer, even if they’re evil. In the case of evil people, they just settle for giving them a quick and painless death when possible. 

When they set their mind to something, they follow through no matter what gets in their way. They also have a strong sense of fair play and prefers finding the most equitable solution to arguments. They do have their vices. They love unwinding after a long day at the bar with friends and a drink in hand.

History They were born in the small town of Honey Grove, not too far from Baldur’s Gate. It was named after the fact honey is the town’s largest export. Lobelia had a perfectly normal and happy childhood. Their parents made a living by producing honey so Lobelia knows a lot about beekeeping and honey.

They’re probably one of the most well adjusted Tav I have… possibly the only one. They’ve had their fair share of troubles during their life, of course. But their family will always be one place they can turn to for comfort.

Likes: Protecting people, honey, farming, beekeeping, warm tea, picnics, dancing, partying, celebrating with friends, good food and drink, and farm living

Dislikes: Letting others down, fire, people being hurt, not being able to protect others, and strong smells

Fears: Fire. After being badly burned in a fight, Lobelia can freeze up when a fire is nearby. (Campfire don't bother them although they keep their distance.) They can become useless in battle if they’re up against anything fire-related. The previous battle that scarred them left its mark physically and mentally. They also constantly feel like they have to help people or else they’re useless. They do fear letting everyone around them down. If things go wrong, they always believe it’s their fault.

Quirks: They are so… okay. In a world of hurt people, Lobelia somehow seems to come out of things doing really well. Yes, they have their issues, but people often note just how emotionally grounded they are. It counts as a quirk with the types of circles they run in.

Mental Health: They are pretty mentally stable compared to most. They do have battle scars that have never left them. They’re self-conscious about the injury on their face and assume people are disgusted by it. They were burned badly in a fight and it has left them with a fear of fire. Whenever an ally or civilian is killed, they take it to heart and have a hard time forgiving themself, even if they did nothing wrong.

Favorite Foods: Honey, Honeyflame Bread, Chicken Dumplings, and Smoked Sausage

Favorite Drinks: Queen’s Water (a soft drink made from syrup, honey, guava, and tamarind), Gin, and Tea

Favorite Flower: Honeysuckles

Height:   3’0” / 91.44 cm

Skin: Bronze

Hair:  Auburn

Eyes:  Brown

Color Scheme:  They generally wear browns and oranges since they’re usually wearing animal hides, pelts, and furs. When it comes to fur, they have a wide variety of colors they might wear.

Fashion Sense: They prefer to wear clothing they or their mother made. Whenever Lobelia hunts, they use every part of the animal. Every animal they’ve hunted for food is used to make clothing and armor.

Family: 

Elten Springflower — He’s Lobelia’s father. He’s cheery, friendly, and known for his boisterous laugh. He’s a beekeeper who helps produce honey for the area. Normally, halflings are nomadic, but he and his family settled down due to the bees. He’s supportive of his children, even if he doesn’t totally understand their motives.

Bree Springflower — She’s Lobelia’s mother. She helps with selling the honey and she’s equally supportive of her children. She’s friendly, nosy, and a little overbearing. While she isn’t a malicious person, she is a gossipmonger and often knows a little too much about everyone’s business. Lobelia will gossip with her, too.

Prunella Springflower — She’s Lobelia’s older sister. All of Lobelia’s siblings work at the honey farm. Prunella has two children of her own, Mellina and Pimfire. Her husband, Wenrich, is a woodcutter. Prunella feels obligated to excel at everything as the oldest Springflower child. She’s a very sweet and high-strung woman.

Mellina Springflower — Mellina is Prunella’s 13-year-old daughter.

Pimfire Springflower — Pimfire is Prunella’s 8-year-old son.

Wenrich Springflower — He’s Prunella’s halfling husband and he took the Springflower name. He works as a woodcutter.

Jasper Sarbella-Springflower — He’s Lobelia’s older brother. He’s a goofball and he’s married to a half-elf named Laucian.

Laucian Sarbella-Springflower — He’s Jasper’s half-elf husband. They chose to hyphen their names. They both work on the honey farm.

Plumeria Springflower-Proudfield — She’s Lobelia’s older sister. She’s air headed and kind-hearted. She’s married to another halfling, Myrtle, and they have two children, Milo, a son, and Jillian, a daughter.

Myrtle Proudfield — She’s Plumeria’s halfling wife. She comes from a farming family. She helps support the honey business, but focuses on crop farming. She sells her produce in town once a week.

Milo Proudfield — He’s a tiefling child that Plumeria and Myrtle adopted after Lobelia saved him from goblins. His parents were killed by the goblins long before Lobelia arrived.

Jillian Proudfield — She’s a half-elf Plumeria and Myrtle adopted from the streets. They found her when she was an infant.

Hyacinth Springflower — She’s Lobelia’s older sister. She’s passionate and, like her mother, an absolute gossip. She’s insatiably curious and she just loves being around people. She has no interest in romance or marriage. She just wants to be a fun aunt.

Flint Springflower — He’s Lobelia’s younger brother. He’s the Mr. Fix-It of the family and needs to feel useful. He can be judgmental, but he always has good intentions. He’s dating a halfling named Wellby.

Wellby Goodbutton — He’s Flint’s halfling boyfriend.

Rocky Springflower — He’s Lobelia’s younger brother and he’s the youngest of the family. He’s a little eccentric and always has a million ideas, especially to improve the bee farm. He’s engaged to Cora.

Cora Brightwater — She’s a tiefling who is engaged to Rocky.

They're my second Barcus option. I wasn't sure who made the most sense so I posted both.

[angiemaniac]

If he was a romance option... Barcus is a yes. She loves a dedicated short king.

Was a Patreon request. I HAD to doodle this

[garfield0-o]

Bet u CANT guess who my fave is

Not posted here in a while😮

[kirain]

[galesdevoteewife]

Right back at you! Could you tell us about their wedding ? 8, 18 and 19 🥰

Hello hello!! Thanks for dropping the ask!! Loved to do more Wedding prompts!! ✨✨

8. Traditions - The overall ceremony was a much simplified version of the traditional Dekarios ones. Many customs involves seeking good luck and my HC Gale snorted at and skipped lots of them. "All that's needed are the right words, gestures and substance components." type of Gale who would ignore the regulations and superstitions.

It still serves as both family gatherings and singles mixers as the traditional ceremonies do.

Dekarios family dances and ice-breaking games.

The rings followed Waterdeep traditions.

All the traditions are from Dekarios or Waterdeep. In my world Menzoberranzan don't have this type of weddings.

18. I Now Pronounce You... - Zilvera inherits Gale's family name, becoming Zilvera Dekarios and Mrs. Dekarios. Gale smiles every time he reads or hears someone call her that way. Zilvera likes how it links their name like a pair, although she rarely introduces herself with the surname. Just in case, because she wouldn't want to stain its reputation on her behalf.

19. Guests -

🎶People were chatting, playing, dancing, singing, drinking, eating, mingling 🪕

A group of children made a bouquet for the bride using the flower decoration on the table. "We think you are beautiful," the brave boy holding the flowers at the front said nervously with blushing cheeks.

Astarion was flirting with the most innocent-virgin-looking cousin.

Shadowheart set up a drinking contest with bets, and made a fortune out of it. She can hold her wine and she skillfully cheated.

Lae’zel was bored until Shadowheart persuaded her to start a martial arts arena: "Shouldn't a true warrior be able to win with any weapon?" Contestants chose food from the table as their weapon. The loser would have to eat the food afterward. Baguette was a popular choice. SH again made her coin purse even heavier. "My animals need to eat, and I am a responsible owner." She said with a glass of wine in her hand.

Elminster was there. Gale was playing cool but he was thrilled inside. He opened a precious wine for his idol and Elminster played along as if he was here because he wouldn't want to miss the wine. Only El knew the true reason of his visit, the old wizard has always been a mystery.

The ceremony moved Wyll to tears. The magically chilled beer moved Karlach to tears. They both missed the food and air so much.

There were piles of wedding gifts.

Barcus and some of his gnome friends, from Ironhand and from Gondians, attended. He brought her a very fancy firework show as wedding gift. The gnome's visit was also a business trip; they planned to expend their business in Waterdeep.

Zilvera looked at Barcus with an arched eyebrow. He stood there stiffly, posing like a scarecrow. "Are you trying to give me a hug?" "I just feel like it’s appropriate for the occasion. You want it or not?" "Maybe, but I am not bending down. How about you jump into my arms?" "You wish!" "Hm." She smirked, it’s good to see the familiar grumpy face. "Here, take this. I brought you a wedding gift so you won’t blackmail me later. Find a secluded place and toss it into the sky, as high as you can…damp coal! I said secluded place! Would you ever listen to my instruction...!"

"…Listen. I'll only say this once." Barcus said while they both looked up to the sky, knowing the drow's ears would pick up his every word no matter how loud the fireworks were. "Zilvera, you are a better person than you think. You deserve all of this. May you always find inspiration and strength in your union, my friend."

In my HC post-game Zilvera was in close contact with Barcus, who was now leading the Ironhands and collaborating with the Gondians, to help them recover from Gortash's doing. They needed money and wanted their skills to be known, while the drow wanted to build her own merchant guild, so they hit it off. Zilvera grew increasingly fond of these little fellows for their impressive skills and their character. She especially liked Barcus; they had become true friends.

♡ Wedding Prompts ♡01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31

I appreciate Barcus's character and quest line so much, his was lots of fun! ("We love collaboration. Challenge. Solving problems with the power of reason, creativity and invention". Yup that's my cup of character ☕) He also have this firework dialog at tiefling party, it was very him 😂

[violadesdragons]

As a Bard… my interests are… varied

[sorcerous-caress]

Astarion might be cool with sharing but he'd throw the most petty tantrum if he finds out it's a gnome you want to add to your relationship.

[astralprisms]

You can't take these two anywhere

[averyshittyseal]

...... ok listen here:

BARCUS WROOT

End of my Ted Talk.

No really I had this story in my head with Abel and Barcus and it's... ARGH!!! I WANT TO DRAW THEM MORE.

Sadly Abel is my never-going-to-happen Tav.

There will probably be some typo, oops , sorry

[fatale-distraction]

Lithe and Barcus commission by @crunchyncrumbly !! I was so excited to get this, I just love Barcus’ stunned embarrassed little expression and Lithe’s hair is gorgeous. 😍 Thank you so much for bringing life to my babies!

[thetavolution]

VIKTOR

Full name: Viktor Hamlin Name meaning:  Viktor: champion; Hamlin: home Pronouns: He/Him Race: Asmodeus Tiefling Age: 38 Orientation: Pansexual Romance: Barcus Wroot (Potentially) Class: Paladin Subclass: Oath of Vengeance Origin: Urchin  Theme song:  Big Iron - Marty Robbins / Johnny Guitar - Peggy Lee / Glory of Love - Peter Cetera / Wrong Side of Heaven - Five Finger Death Punch

Personality Viktor was once a bright-eyed and naive adventurer, but time has jaded him. While he still fights for justice and the good of the world, he’s far more pragmatic about it. His once black and white view of the world has fallen away to a gray one. He still very much believes in Vengeance, especially against those who have committed unspeakable acts. 

He’s keeps to himself most of the time. He seems broody and cold, but he’s a kind-hearted man. He’s afraid to let people get close to him so he can avoid losing people he loves. Once you break down his walls, he shows he’s actually just a very depressed guy who wishes he’d lived a different life. Yet he still continues on to help and protect the weak. He doesn’t really know what else he could do with himself.

History Viktor was orphaned as a young boy and raised himself on the streets of Baldur’s Gate. In spite of his tough upbringing, he had an incredibly optimistic view of life. He was certain he would grow up to become a hero who protects people, especially little kids. Some of his peers believed in him, while others already dismissed him outright as a dreamer.

When he came of age, his good heart was noticed by a dwarf paladin, Brom Goldenhead. He took him under his wing and Viktor began a new chapter of his life. He traveled with Brom and five dear friends, including his lover, an elf named Imra Sarro. Viktor’s path to becoming a paladin would become dark.

The party was captured by trolls. They were tortured before most of them were killed, including Brom and Imra. Viktor was the only survivor. Although he slaughtered the trolls, he still was left with survivor’s guilt and crushing loneliness. He would still become a paladin, taking the Oath of Vengeance. He would avenge anyone wronged by evildoers.

Over the years, this life has taken its toll on him.

Likes: Justice, helping people, standing up for the weak, reading, falconry, birds, sword fighting, carving wood, rainstorms, and playing lanceboard 

Dislikes: Injustice, when people go after vulnerable people, trolls, the constant feeling of wanting to turn back time, the Underdark, winter, and not having a real home

Fears: He fears losing everyone that will get close to him. He’s already lost so much and he doesn’t think his heart could lose anyone else. He’s also scared of just being alone on the road for the rest of his life. He doesn’t really know what to do though. He fears his time to change things has ended long ago.

Quirks: He whistles to himself a lot. He only really does it if he’s alone or with someone he’s comfortable around. He partakes in recreational drug usage.

Mental Health: It’s not great, if that’s what you’d like to know. This is a man living with survivor’s guilt over being the only survivor of a troll raid. He is crushed by constant loneliness and dread that it’s too late to turn his life around. But he’s also so driven to help people. He feels absolutely useless if he isn’t. If he isn’t helping people, what was the point of surviving the attack?

Everyone in Faerûn needs a therapist.

Favorite Foods: Buffaloaf with Honeyed Corn, Roasted Cod with Mashed Potatoes, and Faerie Cake

Favorite Drinks: Coffee, Dragonbite Bitter, and Bark Tea

Favorite Flower: Chrysanthemums

Height:  5’11" / 180 cm

Skin: Red.

Hair:  Blue-Black

Eyes:  Demon Red

Color Scheme:  He generally wears dark greens and reds, but he isn’t a stickler about it. 

Fashion Sense: Due to being a paladin, he is often seen in armor. He tends to just repair his old armor over and over again, so it’s a bit old and nicked. It’s the same armor he wore the day his old team died. He may eventually change it when he starts to heal from his past. In his downtime, he doesn’t like to wear anything fancy. Just comfortable camping clothing is fine by him.

Family Nikolas and Lureene Hamlin — They were his parents. They died when he was young on the way to Baldur’s Gate. He was a refugee when he arrived. He had to push onward after their deaths. His father was a tiefling and his mother was a human.

Brom Goldenhead — He was the paladin dwarf who took Viktor under his wing. He believed in the boy and he wanted to give him a good life, one he could be proud of. When he was captured by trolls, he went down swinging. He died by their hands.

Imra Sarro — She was a high elf cleric who fell in love with Viktor. She was part of the group Viktor was in, led by Brom. She was a kind-hearted woman who was also killed by trolls.

Note: I'm not currently playing him so I just used DnD Beyond for his stats at level 12 lol.

I'm not sure if he's a good fit for Barcus, but oh well. I have a second option for Barcus just in case anyway. I am open to opinions! It's between him and Lobelia.

He's heavily inspired by westerns.

[nightingaletrash]

With a Little Help From My Friends 2/2

aaaaaaand part 2 of the Karlach Fix-It fic!

AO3

--

There was an acrid stink of sulphur that filled the workshop as Dammon melted down the unfinished infernal armour. The parts had been studiously dismantled, the leather and cloth being set aside should they be needed for another project some day, while the iron was carefully checked for impurities that might meddle with the mechanisms or prove too brittle even for a prototype. And while Nemeia couldn’t boast any real knowledge on the subject, it had evidently passed the test as Thulla had immediately handed roughly two thirds of the iron off to the smiths with the rest being thrown to one side for disposal. 

Meanwhile Zanner and Nickles worked on the parts that their people had salvaged from the Steel Watch. Their work was rhythmic in its own way; they would each pick up a piece or part, lift it to their ear, strike it delicately with a hammer and then lifted it to listen again. The difference was indiscernible to Nemeia, but it was enough for them to form a small series of piles - rejects to be discarded of, ones suitable for use in the prototype, ones to be melted down for later, and the ones they intended to save as they were for the final product.

Between the sweltering heat of the forge, the constant bustle, and the stink of rotten eggs, Nemeia and the others decided to wait outside until Dammon and the gnomes were done.

For some, the stink of fish and brine wouldn't be an improvement over the sulphur, and the sun still beat down with its warm summer rays, and while the cool sea breeze more than made up for it, the sudden relative calm left open air to think and the ghost of Karlach began to buzz in her ears once more.

What was the point? I’m still dying. I’m dying. I’m going to die!

The anguish burned in her ears as her chest tightened. She reached over her shoulder to grab her violin, as if tuning it would push the memory away. It was done. Gortash was dead, and now they were going to fix what he had done as best as they could. It wouldn’t be the same as getting her heart back, but it had to be better than dying.

You’ll just keep going, won’t you, Karlach accused. Watching the stars. Warming your hands on the campfire. Dancing, eating, making fucking love all night - all of it, all of it!

Her fingers trembled as she turned the pegs to tighten the strings, and she had to force away the crushing sensation in her chest because this wasn’t about her and her feelings. It was about Karlach. Karlach who had watched as Astarion struck down Cazador, saw Shadowheart reclaim her family from Viconia DeVir, and witnessed Wyll defy Hell itself to rescue his father from the Iron Throne and Mizora both. They all confronted the ones who had controlled and abused them, and they had all emerged from the other side a little less broken, a little more whole, with their lives finally back in their own hands after so many years at their mercy.

And now Karlach had finally faced her monster and had come away with nothing.

She had every right to be furious. They’d taken her heart. Taken everything. And as far as she knew, no one had any idea on how to get even a shred of it back.

What am I supposed to do now?

Live.

If Dammon and the gnomes did their job, all she’d ever have to do was live. Then she could watch the stars, warm her hands on the fire, sing and dance and eat and make love all night - she could do it all. Whatever she wanted, wherever she wanted. Even if she’d never have her heart back, she would have everything else.

The thought was enough to finally give her fingers their steadiness back, and she drew her bow and played a few notes to test her tuning. One string was much too tight, so she loosened it a little, and then began to play in earnest.

It was a tune she only vaguely recalled from her childhood. From a play when her mother took her on a trip to Neverwinter. It had been a story about a hero on a journey to try and stave off a sudden and inevitable death caused by a curse placed on them by a sorcerer. Of course, the hero had succeeded in the end, but had learned that there was much value in living life to the fullest instead of chasing tomorrow’s glory.

What had struck her as odd even then was the lack of a battle between the hero and the villain. Not five minutes after the curse was placed on the hero, their saviour arrived and abruptly killed off the villain altogether.

It had seemed an odd choice at the time. Why not give the hero the chance to be victorious over the one who had doomed them in the first place? Especially when it remained unclear as to how they were going to save themselves. At least, her young mind had thought, if the hero goes down, they know they’re taking their enemy with them.

Well she understood now. There was no satisfaction in destroying someone when you were just as doomed as they were. And that moment of understanding would have been a very hard sell for a show that was meant to be for children.

But the tune of the closing number had lurched into her mind unbidden, so that was what she chose to play. It was simple and catchy, and that was all it needed to be. Anything to stave off the idea that something might still go wrong and bring their plan crashing down around them.

As she played, the others took advantage of the brief chance to rest. In the sudden rush to try and get all the pieces for the new engine, that fight seemed so far away now. Like it had been days ago rather than hours, though the fact that his hand was still whole and intact in her pack rather than wasting away into sludge said otherwise. 

Maybe once they’d dealt with this Murder Tribunal business, she’d let Karlach decide what to do with it and all of its gaudy jewellery. A final ‘fuck you’ to the bastard that had ruined her life.

Two hours were whiled away before Barcus emerged from the workshop, covered in soot and grease stains yet beaming broader than Nemeia had ever seen before.

“It’s perfect,” was all he said before beckoning them to come back inside.

They filed back into the workshop where Dammon and the gnomes were all admiring their hard work, and frankly, if Nemeia hadn’t known better, she might have thought that it was the real thing. 

It was a contraption unlike any she had ever seen. The infernal casing was opened up to show the inner mechanisms that had been crafted as close to the shape of a real heart as was physically possible, the chambers all contracting and relaxing in rhythm with one another as the mechanisms whirred and the pistons pumped.

Yet as strange as it was, it was beautiful in its own way. Even though it was just a prototype, and even though she was no artificer, she could see the sheer amount of love that had gone into its creation. The perfection in the curves, the polished shine of the steel and iron, even its presentation on the table showed just how proud they all were of their work. 

They had made this for Karlach. They did this to save her life. And they’d made it beautiful.

“We altered the design to make use of the existing framework that Karlach’s current engine uses,” Dammon explained. “If we ripped out everything that Zariel put in her, we’d have to rebuild her entire chest cavity, and that would leave her out of commission for months. So these-” He indicated to the pipes that tapered off and connected to nothing. “-will snap into place. It’ll be almost as fast as installing her upgrades, which puts much less stress on her body.”

“Dammon’s been vital to the process,” Barcus said brightly. “His understanding of infernal engineering allows us to account for everything this new engine will need to be capable of to cause as little disruption as possible.”

Dammon chuckled and shook his head. “You say that as if I didn’t nearly throw out all of your hard work for the sake of the infernal casing. If it weren’t for Thulla’s suggestion, it might have come to blows.”

“The heat build-up it could have caused was a very serious issue,” Zanner mused as he poured himself a cup of coffee - when was the last time he’d slept anyway?

“But it’s all been resolved now,” Barcus said reassuringly. “We need to run a couple of stress tests, but more for our own state of mind than anything.”

“Meaning you can go fetch the infernal iron,” Dammon added, “and Karlach. I’m sure she’ll want to see this for herself. Maybe make her own suggestions.” He added the last not with a cheeky grin and Nemeia giggled at the thought.

“I can imagine an engraving that says ‘Property of Karlach Cliffgate - fuck off Zariel’ would be her first thought.”

“If she doesn’t think to ask for that, I’ll definitely suggest it,” he laughed. “Go on now. We’ll get to work on the stress tests. Once we know for sure that it won’t burst into flames, and that Karlach is firmly on board, then we can get to work on putting the real thing together.”

[]

For all their talk of camping, the ‘camp’ that the party had set up in the city was actually just everyone cramming themselves into Nemeia and Kyreth’s family home and making do with the squeeze. But according to the message on the cabinet in the hallway, the others had all decided to clear out so that Karlach could have some space to herself.

It seemed that her dark mood had accompanied her home then.

While the others drifted off to tend to their own devices, Nemeia headed upstairs to her bedroom. Karlach was inside as predicted, sitting on the edge of the bed with a picture held gently by the tips of her fingers. 

It was a small charcoal portrait of Nemeia and Kyreth when they were both much younger. Nemeia had been maybe five or six when she saw the artist on the corner of the street, being paid to draw passers-by, and she’d begged her mother for one.

He’d been delighted by her enthusiasm, and it had remained on her bedside table ever since.

Nemeia knocked on the door softly before stepping inside, and Karlach looked up. 

“Hey soldier. You’re back.” She smiled though it didn’t quite meet her eyes, and she set the picture to one side.

“Still ‘soldier’ after all this time, huh?” Nemeia asked, only letting a small tease slip into her voice as she shut the door behind her. She noticed that Clive had moved from one end of the bed to the other but said nothing about it.

Karlach just shrugged. “Old habits. Did I miss anything while I was off having a sulk?”

“Oh if only you knew,” Nemeia laughed. “I did miss you though. It’s less fun without you around.”

“I missed you too,” Karlach sighed. She shook her head. “You know, I wouldn’t have bothered falling in love with you if I knew that saying goodbye was going to be so hard.”

Nemeia just smiled and moved to sit beside her.

“But what if you didn’t have to say goodbye? Not now, not tomorrow, not for a long, long time. What then?”

She sighed defeatedly.

“Don’t Nem. I’m trying to stay here, now, alive while I can. But it’s like my mind is being whittled down to the black hole that should’ve been our future.”

She ran a hand through her messy black and red mane, sparks flying off of her fingers as they brushed over the metal clasps in her braids. But Nemeia didn’t even flinch.

“But we have a future. A beautiful one,” she said firmly, unable to hold back her smile. “Maybe a short and violent one depending on how things go, but its there.”

And the smile caught Karlach’s eye. She frowned, her glowing amber eyes narrowing as if she was trying to figure out what the trick was.

“Alright… and why is that? Because if it turns out that you’re just that doppelganger freak Orin here to mess with me, I will literally split you in half with my axe,” she said sternly.

At that, Nemeia had to laugh and she shook her head.

“Karlach. You don’t have to die,” she said, unable to stop the smile spreading over her face at all. “After you left, one of the Gondians found us and said they’d found a way to help. Them, the Iron Hands, and even Dammon - they put their heads together and figured out a way.”

A beat passed as Karlach stared at her, utterly gobsmacked. Her eyes were wide and her jaw had gone slack. And then her engine threw off a telltale blue flare, like a heart skipping a beat. She was dumbstruck, unable to speak. Her mouth flapped a few times with effort, but no words came out. So Nemeia threaded her fingers through her’s and explained it all, from Lowa finding them at the bridge, to the prototype that Dammon and the others had built in just a few hours.

As she finished, there were tears pouring down Karlach’s face. Steam rolled off of the tracks, but the heat of her body couldn’t evaporate them fast enough as they raced down her cheeks and dripped onto their joined hands.

When she finally found her voice, she whispered, “...are you real? Or am I having a really cruel daydream right now?”

“I’m real, darling,” Nemeia pressed. “I’m real, it’s real, it’s happening. The only reason I didn’t come tell you straight away was because I had to be sure that it would work, or I’d never forgive myself for getting your hopes up just for them to get snatched away again. Not after what happened with Gortash.”

She disentangled one of her hands to cup Karlach’s face and thumbed away her tears.

“I know it’s not your real heart. If I could get that back and give it to you so that you’d never need another engine ever again, I would do it in a heartbeat. If I ever got a single Wish, it would be all I could ever wish for. But if I can’t do that, then the least I can do is make sure that you get to live on your terms. Not in Hell, but here, where you belong.”

At that, Karlach laughed wetly and shook her head.

“Are you actually sorry that you can’t just find my heart and put it back? Babe, it probably got eaten and shat out by imps years ago,” she said bluntly. “All I want is to live, and you and everyone else - you’re giving me that! Gods, I could kiss you, but if I do that now, I won’t be able to stop myself, and then what will Dammon and the others use to make my new engine? Besides, there’s gonna be so much time for kissing because… because I’m going to live…!”

And in a stark contrast to the utter despair and fury that had befallen her that afternoon, her face was now brimming with unbridled joy as she leapt to her feet and dragged Nemeia up with her.

“I’m going to live!” she shouted joyfully as she began to bounce and dance around the room. “I’m going to live, darling! We’ll get a house and a goat, and fuck it, you still want kids? I’m fucking down! Fuck yeah! We’ll get to travel! Oh man, we have to go to Athkatla, you missed out on so much when fuckface tried to possess you, and I can show you all the places we went, and hey, do you think Gale would let us stay at his place if we went to Waterdeep? I bet he’d let us stay, and he’d make us dinner and show us all the amazing stuff there is. I’ve always wanted to go to the Yawning Portal, and I’d love to get a proper cuddle with Tara too! And we can go on adventures with Wyll and kick some evil butt, I bet Minsc would love to come along for that! Ooh, and we can go on so many more dates!”

Laughter filled the room as they danced haphazardly together, the unbridled joy exploding out of them as Karlach’s eyes and chest glowed blue with excitement. The tears had all dried up. If there were more today, they would be tears of joy. But for now, there was only laughter and shouting and dancing.

And by the time they were done, Karlach was out of breath from shouting so much. Even as she giggled and spun around, clutching Nemeia to her chest, her voice was hoarse from use. But eventually she slowed down and pulled back, grinning from ear to ear.

“So, when do we get this new doo-hickey in my chest so we can put this Gortash bullshit behind us?”

“As soon as they’re done building it. Which they need infernal iron for.” Nemeia grinned. “So let’s grab what we have and head on down there, shall we?”

[]

As it turned out, the real engine was the ultimate test of patience for everyone involved. After Dammon performed a cursory check of Karlach’s engine, he determined that it would be a while longer before it gave out and recommended that the Gondians get some rest after their long ordeal under Gortash’s thumb - he and the Iron Hands would work together to get the parts and pieces made for assembly, and when everyone was rested and ready and at the peak of their ability, they’d bring it altogether to create the perfect engine for Karlach.

As it turned out, the best way to keep Karlach preoccupied until it was ready was to encourage her to write a list of all the things she would do once the Absolute was defeated.

To no one’s surprise, she wrote ‘Nem’ at the very top in bold letters.

“Do I need to cast Silence on your room tonight?” Gale jabbed when he glanced over at the list.

“Oh mate, every night,” Karlach laughed. “Probably wanna put one on them two as well while you’re at it.” She nodded in Kyreth and Halsin’s direction with a smirk. “I bet they’re just as bad.”

“Worse,” Kyreth said bluntly with a cat-like grin, and Nemeia pulled a face.

“Please do not make me confront the fact that those two have sex,” she groaned as she wrapped her arms around Karlach from behind. “Now what else do you want to do, besides me?”

Karlach tilted her head and made a pensive looking face as she tapped her pen against her chin. “Oi Shadowheart!”

The room burst into laughter as Nemeia slapped Karlach on the bicep playfully.

“Don’t even joke, you!” she said with a grin.

Shadowheart sprawled across her armchair with a dramatic sigh. “Ah, and to think I was this close to finally getting a piece of that big, beefy tiefling.”

“Dream on Princess, I was here first,” Nemeia laughed. “Now come on, seriously. You mentioned Athkatla yesterday. What do you want to do when we go there?”

“Whatever you do, don’t bring Lae’zel. She’ll murder your child before your very eyes,” Shadowheart interjected, earning an angry ‘chk’ from Lae’zel as she dragged a whetstone down her blade.

“The imp was returned to the Hells, not murdered,” she hissed derisively. “If you truly want it back so badly then by all means, delve into Avernus to rescue Bing Bong.”

“You set him on fire and splatted him on cobblestones.”

“He should have tried harder not to hit the cobblestones.”

“You threw him-!”

“Girls.” 

Both of their mouths snapped shut as Kyreth eyed them with the imperious gaze of a mother and the argument came to an abrupt end. And just in time too, as there was a sudden rapping on the door. Kyreth stepped out into the hall to answer it.

“Ah, Lowa. This is about the engine?”

“Yes! Dammon’s doing some last stress tests, but its ready to go otherwise. We can do installation whenever Karlach’s ready-”

She barely finished the sentence before Karlach had leapt out of her chair and barged out to the front door with all the energy of an overexcited puppy.

“I’m ready now, let’s go, go, go!”

Everyone was up and moving without any instruction, doing their best to keep Karlach from immediately taking off without them while they locked up the house and shouldered their weapons. It was easier said than done because she just couldn’t seem to stop herself to the point that she started jogging in circles on the spot.

“Come on already, I’ll start carrying you all if it gets us there faster,” she groaned.

“It pays to be cautious when Shapechangers are on the loose, darling,” Astarion sighed. “Don’t want them rooting through our things while we’re gone. Imagine if they took Clive hostage next.”

“He’d fight them off, easy,” Karlach snorted, holding up her fists as if to demonstrate. “Now hurry up, let’s go!”

And they were off, heading down to the Gondian-Iron Hand workshop at the harbour. Karlach kept running ahead and having to wait for the rest to catch up, resulting in her bouncing on the balls of her feet impatiently. At least the passers-by seemed to find it amusing enough, judging from the bemused grins and giggles that followed them as they went.

When they reached the workshop, every last person who had pitched in on the engine was gathered in the main room with the fruit of their labour displayed on the table before them.

If Nemeia had thought the prototype was beautiful, then it was nothing compared to the real thing. It was sleek and compact, with the glowing infernal iron moulded into perfect shape for the casing. Everything was sleek and polished, and practically glowed in the lamp light, and everyone from engineer to alchemist to coffee-runner was beaming with pride as the party filed in.

Karlach was gobsmacked. With a quick glance for permission at Dammon - who nodded in assent - she stepped forwards to pick the engine up and examine it. It glittered from every angle. Everything fit together in a beautiful harmony, with so much love and care that nothing could be a more fitting tribute to its new owner. Then Dammon caught her attention and silently mimed opening it up with his hands. So she did so with an almost uncharacteristic care and gentleness, as if she was terrified to break it.

And there, on the heart inside, was an engraving that read:

Property of Karlach Cliffgate - fuck off Zariel.

“Well… fuck me,” she sniffed as tears welled up in her amber eyes.

“Do you like it?” Barcus asked tentatively, his mouth pressed into a thin line with nervousness.

“Like it? I love it,” she sobbed. 

She set it back down tenderly, then strode around the table and scooped him up into her arms in a fierce hug. For a moment he was caught off-guard, but returned the hug with a brisk firmness and a wobbly smile on his face. Then once she released him, she turned to Dammon and pulled him into a hug next.

“Thank you,” she sobbed. “For everything.”

He grinned as he wrapped his arms around her back and squeezed hard.

“Don’t thank me. It was Zanner’s idea in the first place.” He pulled back. “I just chipped in.”

But Karlach just shook her head. “If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have lived long enough to meet Zanner. Hell, I wouldn’t be able to touch anyone. You gave me so much already, and now you’re giving me the rest.” Her lip wobbled and her voice grew thick as she continued, “you’re giving me my whole life back.”

He squeezed her again and patted her shoulder before pulling away to give her the chance to rub the tears from her eyes. And when that was done, she continued with her hug train, giving a hug to every last person who had worked on her engine. The gnomes all looked a bit flustered at first, but otherwise were glowing with pride as the tiefling thanked each and every one of them.

When she was done, Dammon clapped her on the shoulder.

“Ready to get to work?”

She beamed brighter than the sun.

“So fucking ready, mate.”

[]

The house was packed to bursting that night, and the drinks were flowing. Wyll and Halsin had returned from a trip to the tavern, having procured three whole barrels of ale, and no one wasted any time in cracking them open and pouring out the drinks.

Karlach was the centre of attention with her new engine, despite Dammon’s repeated pleas for her to take it easy for a few hours at least. While no longer aflame with a hot orange flame glowing in her chest, her spirit was by no means reduced. If anything, she was more boisterous than ever. She bounded from room to room, hugging everyone she saw and dragging people out for dances more than once, and it didn’t seem like she was going to be slowing down any time soon.

Right now, Wyll was on the floor with her, both of them smiling and laughing and having the time of their lives as the alcohol flowed. Some of the Iron Hands had broken out into drunken singing, and the Gondians were taking the chance to just relax and enjoy themselves. Meanwhile Gale was in the kitchen, trying to figure out how much food he’d need to make to accommodate for everyone, and it seemed that Astarion had decided to ‘help’ - meaning he was hanging around and drinking wine while offering commentary. Shadowheart was once again in her armchair by the window, though this time with her own glass of wine, and she seemed more content with observing the festivities over joining in. The same could be said for Lae’zel who had slunk off upstairs to engage with martial exercises over chatter, though she appeared soon enough when Gale finally called for dinner to be served.

Halsin and Kyreth busied themselves in helping Gale with serving, doing their best to make sure that everyone got a portion, and soon enough, the noise died down to a general chatter as everyone settled in to eat.

By the time Dammon and the gnomes all departed, it was past midnight and it didn’t take long for everyone to decide that they were ready to retire for the night. There was a queue for the bathroom as usual, and nightly routines were carried out in short order before everyone shuffled off to their bunks for the night. But as Nemeia passed Gale as he stepped out of the bathroom, he winked at her discreetly before disappearing downstairs.

For a moment she was baffled, but upon opening and closing her bedroom door, she suddenly understood. The house outside of the room had suddenly fallen silent. No shuffling footsteps from downstairs or loud coughs from the other rooms. Just Nemeia and Karlach, who was sat on the bed humming to herself. 

Clive was perched on a chair in the corner with his back to the bed.

“Thinking of your boy as always,” Nemeia joked as she approached.

“Of course,” Karlach chuckled. “I would never forgive myself if he got scarred for life.”

She sat expectantly on the edge of the bed. Her whole face glowed with boundless delight as her lover cupped her face and tilted it back. Nemeia ran her thumbs along her jaw, taking in the beautiful sight of her love filled with joy and hope, with her whole life ahead of her.

Then, without warning, Karlach wrapped her arms around Nemeia’s waist, tipped back on the bed and pulled her down with her, cackling with glee as her lover squealed in surprise. She pressed her lips to the delicate pink neck, then to her jaw, up her cheek, over her nose, down the other side and finally reached her mouth.

They melted into each other, hands finding purchase on shoulders or in hair, tugging their bodies together into a tangled mess. They rolled over, with Karlach taking her usual place on top of Nemeia where they paused briefly to gaze at one another.

A beat passed before Nemeia broke the silence.

“I love you so much,” she said softly.

“Well that’s good,” Karlach replied cheekily before she leaned in, her lips just barely grazing over Nemeia’s as she added, “because I plan on loving you for the rest of my life.”

The rest of her life… that sounded beautiful indeed.

[garfield0-o]

HUZZAH

[tociminna]

The Loom of Fate, Chapter 4: Strays

Chapter 4 Featuring a major appearance by our best bud Barcus Wroot. Also, a cat. An OC cat, even.

Chapter 3

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Tags: Slow Burn, Eventual Romance, Fluff, Eventual Smut, all the fixins

Rating: Unrated, but so far T/M.

Summary: A long fic WIP following the events of the game but with some departures to and expansions from canon. Some new OCs. Gale/femTav and minor Wyll/Astarion romance.