#The Undead Lord of the Palace of Darkness

[pursuitseternal]

“Seek Me:” naughty Hide and Seek for you and your Vampire Lord in “The Rogue You Were”

Ascended Astarion x F!Reader | E | 3.4 K of predator/prey, hide and seek double smut

Summary: To fight the impending ennui of politics, you play a game, just a simple hunt, a sort of dark and perverted hide and seek. Winner claims the spoils, and the spoils are always… delicious.

CW: predator/prey dynamics, perverted hide and seek, slight exhibitionism (twice), rough sex, possessive sex, double cream pie, (surprise) carriage sex

Ao3 link | Astarion fic Masterlist

Chapter 11… Seek Me

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Shadows stretch across the palace halls, bending and misshaping anything familiar. That creeping memory of sneaking in here years ago to stop the Rite that made you and your love what you are still niggles in your thoughts and nightmares sometimes.

Times like this, you wonder why Astarion insisted on living in such a place of past torment. Even though the decor was brighter and the crimsons more vibrant, it didn’t matter in the dark.

All looked the same cloaked in shadows and covered in night.

Your undead heart pounds, it's slow and hard as your breasts rise and fall rapidly with your breaths. Why… why did you agree to let him go first? Some little game to break the ennui. A simple game of hide and seek. But you should have known, hiding and seeking was more than that in an ancient ancestral, vampiric palace.

And it was always more than that with Astarion, your love, your sire, your husband.

You keep your eyes open for his glowing red gaze… your ears train the ground for his near silent step… he’s far more practiced at all being a vampire entails. He can hold his breath, slow his heart, move like death incarnate.

Your only advantage is that you know the palace better. All these days spent overseeing renovations as he attended council meetings and travels, you had more than a few tricks up your sleeve. As long as he didn’t catch you first.

Darting onto the balcony, you keep to the shadows and hug the wall. If you can just make it inside the hall, you’re sure he won’t find you for quite some time.

After all, it’s just a little game to play while your guests are still departing, admiring your new palace. It’s only a matter of time now before you both need to leave for some grand soirée, another of many evenings wrapped up in tedium and the boring banter of politics and power. This game is to spice up the evening ahead. And instead, it just makes your heart race.

Winner or loser, you know you’re just going to end up split on his cock, gasping and pleasured wherever you are. Wherever it is he finds you.

You just hope it’s not within earshot of these nobles…these poor, pathetic souls who wander to look at your splendorous home. You hear their voices from down below, lightening your step to go unnoticed. Muffled noises grow closer. Hands shaking, you know that hidden door is here… behind this panel, your hands skim over the ornate wallpaper, searching with fumbling touch for the switch. Noises grow louder, and suddenly you’re aware of the milling crowd on the other side of the railing. They can just catch you from the corners of their judgemental eyes, their ears just within reach enough to hear you if you were to make enough noise…

You wonder if they can also hear those footsteps approaching. Astarion. Hunting you down, seeking you in your fun and twisted game.

Trembling, ragged breaths come from your mouth as you finally hear the click of the hidden switch, the panel shifting in the wall to reveal total and utter darkness. You smile, relieved….

Until two glowing crimson eyes open to look down on you from within. Quicker than breath, he’s turned you around, dagger to your throat and arms pinning you against his chest as he laughs so quietly in your ear. “Shhhh, not a sound… my treasure.” He grinds his prominent erection on the curve of your ass through your thin silken gown. “Not if you want those Patriars and Council members to hear how much of a slut you are for your lover…”

You swallow the sound that longs to break from your throat. His hand, the one that isn’t skating the blade of his dagger tantalizingly over your neck, skates up your thigh, rucking up your skirts to reveal your bare legs and curves. Just the way he likes you.

“You want that, want to show off how much I crave you, don’t you…?” you hiss the question, pulling at his arm enough to free you, but he only retaliates with a smile on his lips.

Clutching you all the harder, he spins you both into the wall to press you into that elegant wallpaper. That dagger blade is stowed away, replaced by his hand at your neck. His laugh is laced with pure devilry—he lives for this. That hand returns to hiking up your skirt until you feel nothing but the fine, supple leather of his trousers grinding against your ass. “You question if I’d like the powerful men of this city to know that its Hero against the Netherbrain whimpers for me almost every hour of the day?” You feel his hands quickly, dexterously unlace those leathers. That thick, hot head of his cock teases against your ass, slipping beneath your thighs as he spreads you wider with his knee. “You wonder if I’m proud that my beloved longs for me always, and I for her?”

You stifle your groan against the rich and ribbed texture of the wallpaper. That cock head teasing into your entrance just enough to make you shake, to make you press against the wall harder to lift your hips more for him. A low growl shakes against your sensitive ear as he approves, that cock teasing inside you just a little bit more. “Tell me, my treasure, how hard did you try to hide from me? That couldn’t have really been your best…” he taunts you, both with that hot and blunted head in your folds and his words in your ear. “Once I’m finished claiming my victory this round, you’ll just have to try again you know…”

Shivering, you nod, your cheek rubbing that expensive paper, its lush colors too bright to have your face shoved against it. “Oh no, I was barely trying, my love,” you lie just to taunt him all the same. “I just wanted you to claim your victory, worried you’d take too long for how badly I need you.”

“Such pleasing words from my lust-driven consort,” he chuckles, quiet enough for your ear alone. “Such a slut, just for me, is that it?” he rasps as he shoves himself deep into you at last, fangs sinking into your neck all at once. “What kind of lover would I be to deny you that?”

He sucks harder at your neck, hips pistoning against your rear deliberately and smoothly. You physically bite your tongue and cheek to keep from moaning, the hard won prize of this game going to both of you, that desire flooding your bond. Thighs shaking, you know you won’t last much longer, not with the thrill of being just out of eyesight from the dozen or so guests that still mill around. “I look forward to you trying to beat me again,” he growls in your ear, words staggered and stuttered with his thrusts. “But we better finish this round before anyone suspects the Vampire Lord and his Consort of being so madly in love they can’t keep their hands or sexes off each other, hmm?”

A small whine escapes your self-imposed gag on your lips, and it makes him laugh low and dangerously in his throat. “What a good little consort,” he nips at your ear. “Just can’t help yourself. So clever to get caught…” he groans. With that thickening inside you, that gravel in his voice, you know he’s growing close.

The thought alone makes you come undone, back arching, your fangs breaking your own lip’s flesh. It takes every ounce of self-restraint to keep yourself from mewling and screaming as you burst in heat. And all the while, he’s groaning and rasping in your right ear. Shivers run down your back as he grunts harder in that sensitive spot against your neck. Erratic, hard thrusts jab deep inside you, his cock twitching as it pulses and fills you.

“That scent will make it harder for you to hide this time, you know my treasure,” he emphasizes with a deep breath right against your neck. “Your blood, my cum, your arousal… You’re such a mess, marked so well. There’s nowhere inside this palace I won��t be able to track you down, you know…”

You smirk, spinning in his arms to rest your back against the wall. “We’ll see about that…” you tease, breathless and overconfident. He just smirks, that edge of arousal and intrigue darkening the deep crimson of his narrowing eyes.

“I’m sure you’ll do your best, my darling little vampling,” he kisses your lips longingly, a little playful nip at the end, the mingling of iron on your tongues from your blood. He breaks away, eyes wide, frightening as he wraps his hand around your throat, your skin still slick from blood. “We have half an hour before we must depart for the evening, my pet. You had better not delay us, you know.”

“You wish me to let you win in that time so we remain… punctual?” you tease.

“I’m just stating the obvious,” he shakes his head very slowly as he smirks wide enough to bare his fangs, “I won’t be pleased if I have to leave without you just because you decided to be clever.”

“I… am… clever,” you taunt, tapping him on his nose with each insolent word.

Astarion pulls his hand away from your throat, eyes glinting, breath still. “Then I’ll let you get a head start, my clever girl…” he leans his fanged face into yours, “so you had better run.”

You stumble away, thighs slick as he watches you break out into the evening on the balcony again. He just laughs, your scent too strong in his nose. Voices from below call up to him, those guests wishing to impart a few more good wishes to their host before their departure for the next gathering. Astarion shoves his cock back in his trousers, perfecting his appearance before leering down at the nobles form over that thick railing. Those mortals so literally far beneath him. “A fair evening to you,” he calls with a flourish. “My lady and I will see you at the festivities anon. A few matters of home to wrap up before the evening, I’m afraid.”

He sniffs the air, the stink of these guests cloud his senses. Striding down the stairs, he tries to pick up your scent, but there are just too many bodies, too much stale wine and general stink. Once the door is shut to the palace, once he is truly alone, he tears through room after room, searching and sniffing. His mind tugs against yours. “Where are you… darling….?” he growls down your bond, but you know better than to answer. “Trying so hard to be clever, is that it?”

He sneers to himself as he sweeps silently through bedchambers and ballrooms and galleries. He presses against the walls at cracks and hidden doors to scent you within the tunnels. The clock starts to chime, and Astarion hisses in frustration. He hears the carriage rumbling outside the main doors.

“On the gods, darling,” he hisses outloud and down their bond. “If you don’t come out right now, I will be sorely disappointed.” He huffs, grabbing his gloves and cane perched neatly in the foyer. He pauses for a moment, tilting his pointed ear to listen to his palace, scanning his domain for her. “You think you’ve won?” he snips, irritated and irked as he starts out the door towards the waiting coach. It’s black paint trimmed with gold shines in the torchlight as night falls. “I assure, my darling, if you don’t come this moment to the coach for the evening’s gathering…”

He lets the threat hang in the air. Not even a tremor of a laugh from her end of their bond. Teeth grinding, he launches from the door into the gathering dark of night. He opens the carriage door with a shout for the driver to make haste. Before the door has even shut behind him, his team of raven black mares is off through the Upper City.

Astarion flops down on the elegantly cushioned seat of his coach. His cane in his hands nearly breaks in the strength of his angered grip. “How dare she…” he hisses into the dark as the carriage bumps and sways over the streets. That little window lets the wind whistle in. Usually he enjoys the breeze on his face, but now, tonight, it annoys the hells out of it. He slams it shut

Suddenly, without that breeze, a scent reaches his nose. Blood… arousal…

“Oh… my love…” your voice tickles his mind.

The couch sways around a corner, something shuffling near his feet. A hand shoots up to grab the hem of his jacket, yanking him towards the floor.

“Darling…” he purrs down at you as your eyes lock into his, your fangs must be glinting in the dim light in the carriage.

“I win,” you gloat, your body pinned beneath him on the floor of your carriage. His legs are already spreading yours, hands already roughly pulling your skirts up to your waist, yet you feel like the victor. The prey finally catches the predator in her neat little trap.

“Clever little consort, setting her snare so neatly for me to wind up between your legs…” he rasps, his body bumping and swaying against you in time with the movements of your coach. But then he begins to add a few more deliberate thrusts of his clothed and hardened cock against your already used and soaking folds. “What is the prize you wish to claim, my treasure?”

“You know my favorite prize,” you purr, catching the edge of his pointed ear in your mouth for a suck, one that deafens him for the moment from the rumble of your coach. A moan slips out from his lips far louder than would be dignified.

His ear slips from your mouth as he turns his head, a snarl in Astarion’s throat as he catches your chin. “Then it is everything you shall receive…” he growls, “when I decide to finally give it to you…” he teases you darkly, those hips grinding against your folds mercilessly. He’s heavy on your core, the bumping and jostling of the carriage stealing your breath as he sometimes times his thrusts with the unpredictable up-down. It only makes him laugh harder and capture your lips in his when he squashes you so completely.

“Maybe if you had just played the game properly, you wouldn’t be feeling so trapped like the little prey you are for me, my little treat…” he nips into your neck, just a small bite. Enough to draw blood by the mouthful for him to feast on.

“I did play, and I won,” you chuckle low in your throat, reaching between our hips to blatantly touch myself. “Maybe it’s time you paid respects to the victor this round?” You tease him, acerbic and haughty as he hears your fingers toying through your own slick.

Astarion gives that low and wicked laugh, relishing your defiant spirit. “I don’t think you want anything respectful done with you…. Do you my treasure?” He can’t stiffle a groan as he teases his own cock head through your sopping seam. Over the rattling of your wooden coach cobblestones, you hear the wet sounds of him playing inside you. It sends shivers down your spine and makes you bite your lips enough to draw your own blood to paint your lips scarlet.

You groan, the carriage lurches around a corner making you both roll to the side. A wicked laugh in your throat, you take full advantage of the surprise. Momentum swings you around, until you are the one on top, in a second, a little rise of your hips, and you sink his cock deep inside you.

Astarion bares his fangs and hisses at the sudden warmth and wet that sucks him in, his head now bouncing on the floor. You ride him mercilessly. “Such a good prize you are…” you tease him, gripping his chin to make him look at you. “Nothing like having the Vampire Ascendant at my mercy for once,” you flaunt your victory.

“You think yourself so clever and….” he starts, but you press a finger against his mouth before sticking two of them inside his mouth as you shush him.

“Hush,” you smirk, glowing in your moment of power. You swirl your fingers around his mouth, grazing over his wet and sucking tongue, pricking your skin on his razor-fangs. “Just let your clever Consort have this victory once,” you smile, pouting down at him a bit as you pull your fingers from his salivating lips.

“Very well, my darling,” he growls, “but at least you could let your loving Ascendant lord sit up so his head isn’t addled by the roads.”

You snicker, “Of course. We wouldn’t want to have your mind any more befuddled by my glorious win.” Your smirk is feral and arrogant. You ease off of him, watching with a knowing and careful eye as he slides himself up to rest against the door of the carriage.

He tosses his head, your bodies still joined perfectly, the coach still rocking with that extra, insatiable friction that moves your sexes on their own. He smirks as you ride over a massive bump, one that fairly throws you into the air to slide down his cock with more force than you can give. You gasp as it makes you land squarely on him, cock head slamming your cervix.

The grin on his face grows delightfully sadistic as it twists those sharp features. You see his ears twitching as he listens closely to the rumbles of the coach, smirk winding higher as he lifts you up in time with the coach to slam you back down as it falls….

You grit your teeth and scream through them with a smile as he fills you, sharp and suddenly. “Get riding, my clever treasure,” he chuckles as he pulls you in for a kiss, “or these roads and I will do it for you.”

You give him a glare, more amorous than angry, your mouth slack as you buck your hips with abandon. You bite your lip as you move, the vibrations of the coach send you barreling towards your bliss so quickly. Hard and fast, your hands grip into the stitching of his jacket, his breath hot at the base of your neck. His gaze burns your skin, watching the way your breasts jiggle and move right before his eyes as you are thrown around, at the mercy of the coach’s movements.

He groans, the pressure so great inside you both, you feel it searing between you and crashing down your mental bond. With one breath, you clench around him, his hands grip into your waist to keep you steady as he tries to snap his hips. It bursts inside you, the pressure and pleasure erupting through your core as you reach your peaks as one. He places a breathless kiss on the soft skin of your bosom. “I do so love when you win too, my perfect prey and equal hunter…” he pants against your flesh. “I’ll gladly let you claim your victory from me…” his left brow arches rakishly and teasing, “but only when you’ve earned it, my darling…”

“Hmmm,” you hum, irritated and yet shivering in pleasure. “Just admit, I’m just as good…”

Suddenly the carriage rumbles to a stop, and you lock eyes with Astarion. Voices approach from behind the door, and your two sets of crimson eyes flare wide a moment before the door pulls open behind him.

He grunts as he spills backward, unceremoniously dangling out the door. His head hangs over the edge of the coach, his fanged smile wide and grinning as he stares into the crow upside down, while your hands grabbing furiously at your skirts to hide your sexes still throbbing and intertwined. He laughs that low and rumbling giggle, quite the sight as other guests pause to stare at the Vampire Ascendant indulging within his own private coach. “Well,” he chortles, sitting up to give a bit of privacy as you slide off his lap, “there isn’t any use hiding our love any longer…” Astarion nips at your neck playfully as he refastesns his trousers. “If they sought a glimpse into the loving depravities of the Ascendant and his consort, they certainly found it.”

You giggle, the rush of being so on display racing through your nerves. Carefully you follow him out of the coach, both of you straightening your clothes as if nothing happened. “And you wanted to play your games thinking tonight would be boring,” you rasp into his ear.

He stops in the middle of the grave path and pulls you hard into him, his kiss all lips and fangs and tongue down your throat. Hiding nothing of your passion from the spectators. “Nothing is boring when I’m with you.”

[iamjucie]

Pet (18+) pt. 1 of 4

photo credit: @yabishrihere

Ascended Astarion x f!reader

Chapter One: Thinking

Summary: You have been the Vampire Lord Astarion Ancunín's Dark Consort for as long as you can remember. You don't remember much of your life before this undead life you live, but you do know you have a purpose. Obey.

WARNINGS: Smut, Extremely dubious consent, Mind control/manipulation, Orgasm control, Abusive relationship, Stockholm Syndrome, Physical Abuse

I do not say this lightly- Astarion is evil in this. This is an extremely toxic relationship. You have been warned!

(AO3 Link)

You are sitting in the lavish master chamber of the ornate palace you call home. Gazing into your reflection in the vanity mirror combing your unnaturally long black hair, getting lost in thought. It’s really all there is to do when Master Astarion is away on extended business trips like this.

It does help, too, that before he left he told you to think of him while he was gone. It was a command. So you obey. And you think.

You’ve been the Dark Consort of the Crimson Palace for you don't know how long. Time started to blend together around the first century of your undead life. Around that time, you had suspicions that Astarion may be dulling your mind with his power over you.

Yes- that’s right. You began questioning him about when he would grant you a drop of his blood like he said. That’s when-

Suddenly, your mind falls blank.

Wait…What were you thinking about again?

Right. Astarion. Your beloved Master who has taken care of you in all ways. You have everything you can ever imagine. You are so happy here.

You know somewhere in your mind that you were once a very powerful, talented Cleric reigning from Nimbral. Before you were the hero of Baldur’s Gate, you spent your time traveling The Forgotten Realms tending to the sick and needy. A mere blimp in your immortal lifetime. And feigns in comparison to what you do now as the consort to the Vampire Ascendant.

“Hero of Baldur’s Gate” rings in your mind for a moment. A title that hasn’t been used in reference to you in lifetimes. You almost forgot you had a life before the Crimson Palace. Before Cazador saw that Astarion was a far more suitable candidate for the rite of Profane Ascension than he. A life before you and Astarion took down the all powerful Netherbrain, saving Baldur’s Gate from impending doom.

You believe there were others there with you, but the memory of their faces is dull. You used to write letters to them behind Astarion’s back, you recall. Once he caught you doing it, they dissipated from your thoughts. He began limiting you from contacting those outside the palace walls after that. He said he was protecting you from yourself. That they no one cared for you like he does.

And he is right. He is the only one who knows what is best for you. Damn, you lost your train of thought again.

You were reminiscing…

Yes that’s right- when you and Astarion single handedly took down the Netherbrain, you were a very independent person. Did everything alone and didn’t answer to anyone. What a fool you were, to think you can exist without someone to serve. Without him. To think you can survive alone. You’re happy you’ve learned your lesson. Master is a wonderful teacher, after all.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the multitude of locks on the chamber door being undone and jump to your feet. You brush your hands down your sheer red nightgown, smoothing out any imperfections before you're finally where you belong. In the gaze of your beloved master. You tremble at the thought of being in his vicinity again.

The door swings open revealing the magnificent form of a man that you have the honor of belonging to. He’s well kept with the most extravagant of garb, ornately decorated with the finest of gold beading and elaborate designs positioned in a way that compliments his flawless physique perfectly.

Your master begins to saunter into the bedroom where you are awaiting his arrival.

“There’s my perfect pet.” Astarion says as he approaches you with a predatory intent visible on his face.

He is expectant. And right to be. Your connection as master and spawn grants him full, unadulterated access to you. Your mind and body, his to command and compel at all times. And compel he did. During the entirety of his business trip he planted the seeds of lust into your mind. What he wants to do to you, what positions he will have you in, what he will have you do to him. All engraved in your mind like a mantra. A prayer to your dark God.

All along with the command to not pleasure yourself and not to orgasm until he commands it. You had no choice but to obey. But it was fine, this is all the routine at this point.

The first few times he had done this dance to you, you had been angry. You had been furious at him for putting you through such agonizing pain. You saw it as torture then. How adorably ignorant you once were.

No, this is no torture. He is doing it for you. He is but preparing you for him-the way in which you belong.

His slender hands graze your hips and his touch sends an electric bolt through your undead frame so strong that it draws a moan from your mouth.

“Tsk..” Astarion looks down onto you with an exaggerated face of pity “Seems I may have left you basking in my absence for a touch too long. If a brush through fabric is enough to have you scream for me, that is.”

You feel a wave of shame rush over you. Gods, how stupid could you be. You're pathetic for such a shameless display of your desperation. The feeling that you may have disappointed your master has made you feel like you deserve to be in the lesson room for at least a tenday.

Astarion places his hand under your chin, gently directing your gaze into his eyes. “That's exactly the way I want you. You are perfect. So very eager. And…” he moves his grip from your hips to graze the outside of your folds, “...oh so ready for me.”

He was right. You were drenched beyond comprehension, your fluids one more touch away from dripping down your legs. Having your master’s approval sends a wave of euphoria through you. One that no potion, no charm spell, no mushroom spore from the darkest of the underdark, could grant. How lucky are you. Your master is so kind to allow you such a feeling. You almost feel satiated. Almost.

“Oh Master, how I’ve missed you so.” you cry out, almost sobbing.

He moves his hand from your heat to the small of your back and the other to the back of your head, pulling you into a tight embrace. “Shh…” he coos, gently scratching your scalp. You start to sob into his shoulder. So overwhelmed with emotion that the only way to express it is to cry.

“Pet if you keep this up I might start to feel bad for you.” he scoffs while still holding you. “I love to hear you cry for me, but this seems a bit pathetic. Don’t you think so, dearest?”

“I-I know I’m-” you pull back and put your hands on your face. Partially to wipe your tears and partially to hide your embarrassment from him. “I’m sorry, Master.”

Astarion lets out a hearty laugh that makes you feel meek for a moment. “Darling, it’s okay! It’s not like you can help it.” he says as he makes his way to the bed.

You are confused but ultimately so overjoyed by the presence of your beloved that you don’t pay mind to it. Instead you focus on following him to the bed you share.

You watch in awe as he unbuttons and removes his coat to lay lazily on the mattress. He pats the unoccupied side of the sheets granting you permission to join him and your feet make their way to the bed. You lay on your side next to him, admiring his beautiful features. Thinking how lucky you are to belong to such a glorious creature as him.

He settles himself in, propped up into a seated position by the lushest, plushest pillows gold could grant.

“Okay darling, are you ready to show me how good you were in my absence?”

Your eyes light up and the underlying heat in your core grows exponentially. You nod with the enthusiasm of someone starved being offered a feast. You jump off the bed and begin to take off your nightgown.

“Not so fast,” your body freezes in place, limbs unable to move. “I don’t recall saying you could strip for me, little one. I thought you would have learned to behave by now…”

He’s right. You would have learned to behave, if that was what he wanted of you. You tried that once, toward the beginning of your undead life. Obeyed and did not do anything without permission. You did what he says he expects from you. You learned quickly that he doesn’t always mean the things he says. He began to grow bored of you. His business trips were far longer during the time of your complete obedience. You’ve fine tuned your behavior to be just the way he wants. Even if that entails enduring punishments. It’s worth it for his attention.

“Get back on the bed, pet. I decide what pace we move at, not you”

You hesitate, testing the waters of how he wants you to be. What kind of mood is he in tonight? Does he want you to be playful and a tease? Does he want you obedient?

His gaze remains on you, as you stay halted in your tracks.

“Now.” his eyes glow slightly with the increase of power over you. He entered your mind and you feel a sense of warmth over your thoughts, compelling you back to your previous position.

Obedient it is.

Next chapter: Boots

[pheavampire]

Astarion, Cazador and D&D vampire lore

Let’s talk about D&D vampires and some lore inconsistencies in Baldur’s Gate 3.

BG3 is not a game about vampires. It was obvious we won’t get a playable character who will be 100% vampire spawn from the handbooks - the mechanical balance would be disturbed in comparison with other characters. But we can list some weird stuff and missing aspects. For fun, for fanfiction, for nerdiness.

I still wonder why Cazador even asked Astarion if he wants to be turned. Sure, he could do that, so he could say later „ha ha you asked for it!” but still - weird. Anyway, a vampire lord doesn’t need to ask - he just bites his victim, kills it by drinking its blood and boom, a vampire spawn is made. Almost made…

… because at first the victim needs to be buried and layed in the ground before it rises. That’s the next question - how the hell did Cazador make 7000 spawns? Theoretically he needed to bury them all, dig them back/wait until they dig themselves out or something and transport them to his dungeon without being noticed. His servants could do that for him, but it still is a pretty big thing to cover. Besides…

… accordng to D&D 3.5 edition: "At any given time a vampire may have enslaved spawn totaling no more than twice its own Hit Dice" which means it was impossible for Cazador to create 7000 spawns. Sure, Baldur's Gate 3 uses 5 ed rules, but I'm sure they didn't change this one that much. (BUT! We can interpret this rule as: a vampire lord can create as many spawns as he wants, but the number of enslaved ones is limited. That's all right in this case).

That being said, Astarion is surprised when he discovers that all Cazador’s victims are spawns now. One of his dialogue options is „I thought Cazador was feeding on you”. Well yes, he had to feed on them to make them spawns Astarion, I thought you noticed that yourself 200 years ago. But let's say I understand your confusion, 7000 spawns mean Cazador's hit dice is 3500. Lol.

As a vampire spawn, Astarion should be able to regenerate even without biting someone. To be precise, he should get 10 health points at the start of every turn until he gets killed. But ok, this one doesn’t work in the sun, so let’s say it’s justified… unless the party is in the underdark, shadowlands or other dark place. But yeah, that would be too OP.

Astarion should be afraid of holy symbols, mirrors and garlic. That would be quite irritating, as he wouldn’t be able to even get near Selune's stuff or Lathander’s temple (Lathander HATES the undead, just ask poor Jander Sunstar). But let’s say the tadpole gave him immunity.

Spider climb. Imagine Astarion climbing walls or even ceilings like a damn Spiderman - this is what a regular vampire spawn can do. If the tadpole took away this ability, that’s not very nice of it.

Claws. Astarion should be able to transform his fingers into claws at will. That’s right, it works like another melee weapon.

Coffins, graves et cetera - bunk beds in Cazador's palace are a very anti-canon idea. Because D&D vampires have really traditional weaknesses, they always have to „sleep” in the ground they were buried in to recover - just like Cazador. Jander I mentioned earlier invented an un-lifehack, as he was traveling through Faerun by keeping some of the dirt from his grave in his pocket. He was scattering it in the place he wanted to rest for some time.

A vampire spawn can be controlled or banished by clerics like any other undead. That's right, when Shadowheart casts this one, Astarion should roll the dice, or else he will have to run away from her like those zombies you banished during your playthrough.

Last but not least, vampires get damage if they are in the flowing water, for example river, but you already know this one from the early access Astarion. Shame they removed it, in was a bit irritating but I loved it. It reminded me Astarion is a vampire not only in the dialogues.

That's all I can think of now. My knowledge is a mix of 3.5 and 5 ed, do with it what you want. I wouldn't mind more lore accuarte Astarion fanfics though.

Shocked Astarion reading D&D Monster Manual. Or Libris Mortis.

[rawrsatthetree]

Chewing on the idea of Astarion and durge crossing paths before the main events of the game.

Considering the temple of Bhaal and Cazador’s dungeon both connect to the sewers perhaps as the temple leader Durge had to work with him to avoid any vampire vs cultist turf wars.

Maybe even out of fear Cazador extends an invitation to durge, a “we can help each other please don’t kill me” invite. (Astarion even says in game Bhaalspawn are far more feared than vampires)

Or you can’t tell me the local vampire lord isn’t involved in the city’s criminal underworld putting him in contact with Gortash who introduces durge. Maybe they’re simply a plus one to one of Cazador’s balls.

It seems like durge was actively seeking allies to bring about the apocalypse. What would be a better ally to a murder cult leader than the local vampire lord?

Whatever way they end up in the crimson palace it’s Astarion who is ordered to entertain them. Because of course he’s the one ordered to attended to his master’s most dangerous guest. And they’re simply not interest in his flowery words or the kind of entertainment he has to offer. Nor do they harm him either because Gortash told them to behave or because they don’t want to risk the confrontation with Cazador for killing one of his spawn. So they just chat maybe Astarion even warns them about his master only for the dark urge to laugh it off.

Or even just bumping into each other while they’re out hunting for prey. Crossing paths in a dark alley or the sewers. Maybe they set their sights on the same target or maybe even target each other only to back off. Astarion realizing his target is far too dangerous and Durge realizing he’s undead there for unfit to sacrifice to their father. Maybe they have an awkward chat or some playful banter before parting ways to find their next kill.

Of course dark urge has no memories of any of this and Astarion doesn’t bother to remember every face he comes across. Maybe he vaguely recalls encountering a Bhaalspawn but they’ve changed so much since losing their memory he would never recognize them now.

[lorcandidlucienwill]

What if Nesta decided to destroy the Inner Circle part 6

Nesta was frozen in shock as Rhysand pressed that blade harder against her throat. If she moved an inch, the blade would cut her throat. If she spoke, the blade would cut her throat.

“Come to kill your pregnant sister, Nesta?” Rhysand said, holding her body against him. Nesta couldn’t even open her mouth to contradict the blatant lie. She hadn’t prepared for this. She had been so focused on Feyre that she hadn’t even noticed him coming. She cursed herself for her lack of vigilance.

“She just wanted to talk, Rhysand,” Feyre said calmly. “Drop the weapon.”

Rhysand did no such thing. “Drop it,” Feyre said, more bite in her voice now. “You’re not going to kill my sister.”

“Why not? She left you for dead all those years ago,” Rhysand said. Nesta tunneled into her power. “She has done more than enough since,” Feyre replied. “I forgave her. Besides, she’s my sister, and I love her.”

Rhysand scowled, but he loosened the blade’s hold slightly. “Drop it,” Feyre said. “For Cauldron’s sake, drop it, Rhysand!” Blood had seeped from Nesta’s neck down into the collar of her shirt. Come on, Nesta urged her power, come on. Rhysand turned to Feyre. “Fine,” he said, “but only because you-“

Rhysand gasped and winced as Nesta’s fire, cold as ice, melted the knife away, seeping into his fingertips. An unearthly snarl ripped from Rhysand as the Mask flew onto Nesta’s face.

“Surprise, motherfucker,” Nesta said. “I wonder what skeletons lie beneath this palace.”

And Nesta summoned the dead.

The rest of the Inner Circle seemed to have heard the noise and run towards Rhysand. Nesta’s group too. As they all gathered there, pandemonium began. Countless servants were seen to be fighting undead warriors. Mor was fighting Eris while Lucien was fighting Azriel. Cassian and Amren were fighting Gwyn and Emerie. As for Nesta, she went after Rhysand. She was wreathed in silver flames now, and she could scent the fear on the High Lord. But the High Lord was extremely powerful himself, and an exceptionally skilled fighter. He would not be going down without a fight. And where Nesta’s silver flames met Rhysand’s darkness, chaos reigned. As their magics fought for dominance, Nesta lunged at Rhysand with her sword. He met her blow with an exceptionally powerful one of his own, and only her Valkyrie training kept her from falling over. She parried and lunged out with her flames, seeking a weakness in his power and finding none.

“Stop!” Feyre screamed. “STOP!” Everyone ignored her. Rhysand tackled Nesta and she let him, penetrating his shoulder with her magic combined with her dagger. He winced, pulling away, and Nesta kneed him in the balls. He bent over, and Nesta reached for his vulnerable back, only to be blasted back by a hard shield. Suddenly, Nesta felt a vindictive force bang on the walls on her mind, and Nesta was relieved to have those walls of iron surrounding her mind. She laughed. “You would try to mind control me, High Lord? Really?” She stood up and reached deeper into her power than ever before, finding the depths that seemed impossible but were as real as anything she had ever experienced. And as she raised her sword to strike again, she found that her magic was starting to overwhelm his. Eris had been right on that account. However strong Rhysand may be, Nesta was stronger. Rhysand was the better fighter, and it took every bit of concentration in Nesta to keep up, but that’s all she needed to do: keep up. Once her magic overwhelmed his, it was over.

When at last her magic overcame his, she blasted him backwards and pressed her sword to his gut. “Any last words, Rhysand?”

Rhysand only laughed. “What are you laughing about? You’re about to die.”

“No, I’m not. Not unless you want Feyre to die, too.”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

It was Feyre who answered, “We made a pact- to die together.”

What the hell? “Why the fuck would you do that,” Nesta asked quietly. Tears bit the corner of Feyre’s eyes. “We nearly lost each other twice,” she whispered. “I couldn’t go through that again.”

“He’s an asshole!” Nesta screamed. “He hurt you. He hurt all of us! He’s hurt so many people.”

Feyre said nothing. Tears were flowing down her face at earnest. Nesta’s mind screamed at her to stab Rhysand, to make the killing blow. But she couldn’t.

Rhysand knew it, and a triumphant smile graced his face. He had a very punchable face, Nesta decided. “Checkmate,” he whispered.

“No.”

Nesta turned around to find Lucien approaching them, blood spattered across his face. Nesta dared look back for a brief moment at the chaos that ensured, finding Eris now facing off against Azriel instead. Nesta couldn’t see Mor anywhere.

“What do you mean, no?” Rhysand scoffed.

Lucien looked to Nesta. “You keep him occupied. I’m going to find a way to break the pact.”

“You can do that?”

“I can try.” Grim determination laced his face.

“And what makes you think that you can?”

“My father’s heritage.”

Nesta blinked. Rhysand tried to take advantage of her distraction, but she kneed him in the groin again and shoved her sword against his throat. “Stay. Down. What do you mean, your father’s heritage? Is Beron some kind of expert on this?”

“My father isn’t Beron.”

Nesta stared at him. “But your fire-“

“Comes from my mother. But my father is Helion. I think I can find a way to break this bargain. It’s going to be extremely hard though. And painful. For her.”

Nesta nodded. “Do it.”

“No,” Feyre whispered, but Lucien grabbed her and inspected the bargain tattoo. Then he took a deep breath and began. His hands began to glow not with his typical fire, but rather with a light reminiscent of the sun. Feyre screamed and thrashed as Lucien held his hands against her, trying to break the tattoo, as Nesta wrestled with the High Lord of Night, trying to keep him down. Lucien strained, sweat dripping from his face, his arms, as he exerted all his energy. Which turned out to be a lot. Ages had passed when Lucien finally withdrew his hands from Feyre. He spat blood on the floor.

“Did it work?” Nesta whispered. Lucien said, “Yes.” That was answer enough for Nesta, who smiled into the now-terrified face of Rhysand. “Checkmate.”

And Nesta shoved her sword in and ripped off the head of Rhysand. She turned around, head still in her hands. Lucien grimaced and looked away, but through the heat of battle Eris managed to meet her eyes.

And he smiled- smiled- at the brutality, her silver eyes, and the head she carried in her hands. The broadest smile she had ever witnessed.

Nesta carefully set the head down and turned to Feyre. “How is she?” Nesta asked Lucien.

“She has gone into labor!” Lucien panted. “All the stress of breaking the bond and the heat of battle must have brought it on!”

No. No-

The Illyrian baby.

After all the effort they had taken to break the death pact, Feyre was going to die anyway.

[endawn]

"Indiscriminate death. Set upon by the gnawing and the rabid. Cyrodiil's candle flickers and is snuffed. Servants and superiors -- no one is spared the sharp tooth, ridged blade, or diseased hook, barb, or beak. And Mol.ag Bal will watch from his palace in Coldha.rbour where everything stares back at him with his own face, and he will gloat, and mock, and gorge on the souls of mortals."

—Flaccus Terentius

"Mehr.unes Dagon revels in direct destruction—his cultists will set your city on fire and burn it to the ground. Mol.ag Bal exists to dominate and deceive—his cultists will persuade you that a plague is loose, and the only way to stop it is to burn your city down yourself."

—Flaminius Auctor

Mo.lag Bal is a master of all forms of domination over mortals, including the arts of illusion. As a matter of course the Lord of Brutality prefers lies to the truth—except when the truth is more cruel.[40]

The Dark Father,[QD 13][QD 14] the Father of Vampires,[D 8][D 9] Lord of the Undead,[BK 31] and the Father of Undeath[BK 6] are nicknames derived from Mola.g Bal's association with vampires and the undead. Regardless of whether or not they revere him, vampires who recognize Mol.ag Bal as the progenitor of the first vampire may refer to him as the Dark Father. Scholars and laymen who are familiar with Mol.ag Bal's association with vampires or his propensity for raising the dead may refer to him as either of the latter.[QD 13]

honestly mol.ag is like the dead 3 wrapped into one great big bag of dicks

[the-art-of-ancunin]

The Mask & The Mirror [Chapter 7]

Explicit | Enemies to Lovers | Multi-Chapter | Contains BG3 Spoilers

Pairing: Ascended!Astarion x Original Female Character

Chapter Warning(s): Inner turmoil, slight angst, Astarion being a bit of a bitch 🤷🏻‍♀️

Please let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 3.2K

Ancunin Palace - an imposing fortress of twisted dark spires and unforgiving stone - cast a long and foreboding shadow over what was once the great city of Baldur's Gate. While a great many things had remained the same in the century that had passed since the fall of the Absolute, an even greater number of things had changed...the Council of Four was no more - not really, anyhow...and it seemed that as the years continued to pass, more and more eyes were either closed forever or were turned red. Within the Welcoming Hall of the ominous castle, Gale Dekarios stood, hands clasped politely behind his back as a cadre of his old friends spawn watched him carefully. They lined the chamber like eerie sentinels, their pallid flesh and haunting sunken eyes exuding an aura that in another life would have made the wizard quite uncomfortable. The air was heavy with the sickly sweet scent of ancient blood and the weight of countless centuries of suffering. Despite having not set foot in that cursed place for nearly one hundred years, it appeared much the same as it had as far as the man could recall. Some small changes in decor, perhaps, but still very much embedded with the same horrors and oppression as it had been under its previous Master.

"Love what you’ve done with the place," Gale jested, the attempt at levity falling flat as it met the unyielding silence of the undead watchmen.

As if on cue, the large double doors groaned open, an auditory testament to their use. Astarion Ancunin, the Vampire Lord, slinked into the room with a grace that belied his predatory nature, his crimson gaze locking onto his visitor. "Questioning my taste, are we, Gale? I'd expect nothing less from a man who’s dressed in the same robes for several decades."

The man simply offered a smile, though it did not quite mask the apprehension in his chest – a tight coil ready to snap. He extended a hand towards Astarion, a gesture of old camaraderie that now felt foreign between them.

The elf regarded the outstretched hand with a cold indifference before shifting his attention to Gale's face, his own expression a carefully crafted veneer of disinterest. Then, with a fluid motion befitting his royal station, he descended into the embrace of his gilded throne. It was as though he fell in slow motion, each inch calculated, precise, mocking.

"Looking well, Astarion," He commented, retracting his hand. His voice was steady, but inside, he felt the slight sting of rejection, a bitter reminder of fractures time hadn't healed.

"Of course I do," Astarion replied breezily, casting a critical eye over Gale. His finger traced an invisible line along his face, mimicking the crow's feet etched at the corners of the wizard’s tired eyes. "Pity the same can't be said for you. Age has scattered gray across your visage like ashes upon an abandoned hearth."

Gale pressed his lips together, forming a thin line. He could feel the heat beneath his skin, the flush of indignation, but he held it back, damming the river of retorts that threatened to spill forth. "It is good to see that your charm remains as... piquant as ever," he responded, somehow managing to remain amiable in the face of such taunting.

"Charm? A mere trifle among my talents," The vampire drawled, a smirk playing upon his lips. "Now, let us dispense with the pleasantries, hm? You've come for a purpose, have you not?"

Astarion’s gaze was like a cold blade against the man’s resolve, slicing through the small talk with an air of impatience. "Say your piece, old friend. And be swift about it; you've interrupted matters of—shall we say—grave importance."

Gale let out a scoff that was as hollow as the laughter of the undead attendants who flanked the room like grotesque statues. "Oh, my. Forgive me for tearing you away from your...erm…craftsmanship but for a moment," he said, eyes flickering to the impassive faces of the vampire spawn. Under his breath, he murmured, "No offense intended." Their silence was his only answer, as expected.

"It’s adorable that you’d think for even a moment that I’m referring to these…creatures," Astarion laughed, amusement dancing across his face. "But I would remind you that you are on my property, Gale, and surely I needn’t explain myself in the comfort of my own home. Not to the likes of you, anyhow." The pale lord's posture relaxed into the throne, an arrogant king in his court.

The man nodded, the tightness in his chest unwinding enough to draw breath for what must be said. "Of course not. I am here on behalf of the Lords of Waterdeep," he revealed, his voice steady despite the gravity of his words. "To investigate the annihilation of Duskshore."

"Ugh, really?" The vampire sneered, "This is well beyond Waterdeep’s reach, and you know it. The investigation into Duskshore's tragic end lies firmly within the jurisdiction of Baldur's Gate, not to some frightened old men in the north.” 

"Normally, I would agree," Gale conceded, his thoughts briefly touching on the desolate sight of the once-thriving city, now silent as a tomb. "But being that its end was so abrupt and unusual, the Lords deemed it necessary to conduct an independent investigation into this matter."

The Wizard of Waterdeep stood firm under the Vampire Ascendent’s scrutinizing gaze, aware that each word he spoke was a stone in the foundation of what needed to be done. He required answers, and he was convinced that Astarion held them, whether he would admit it or not.

"Miss? Is everything alright in there? Are you hurt?" The concern in the spawn's voice was obligatory at best.

Yuri's heart raced, her breathing shallow as she positioned herself just out of sight from the door. She could almost sense the vampire spawn's suspicion through the heavy wood, the quiet alertness of a predator. With a swift, deliberate motion, she sent the oil lamp that she had snatched from her bedside table crashing to the floor, the sound of shattering glass splitting the stillness of her quarters. Without missing a beat, she forced out a pained, well-practiced cry. 

"Fuck, I’ve cut myself," she lied, the agony in her voice sounded so genuine, she herself could almost be convinced, "I hate to ask…but I could really use some assistance dressing the wound."

After a brief moment, the door creaked open. The spawn stepped inside cautiously, as if every fiber of his being told him this was a terrible idea. Yuri's smile grew as she unleashed the spell she had been holding within her grasp, a surge of pink energy flowed from her fingertips and swirled around the unwitting creature before her.

“Hello, dear,” She cooed as she stepped around to face the vampling. 

“Hello, Miss,” He answered, a warm smile spreading across his thin lips. 

"Could you tell me something? This ‘Gale’ you spoke of earlier…he wouldn’t happen to be the infamous Wizard of Waterdeep, now would he?" she asked, voice gentle, coaxing.

"I’m not entirely sure, to be truthful…but, I believe so," the spawn answered, the magic making his will pliable as clay.

"Where might I find him, dear?"

"In the Audience chamber with Master," came the docile reply.

"Directions, love."

The spawn complied, pointing the way with a languid hand. And then, the final touch—she asked to have the man’s keys. The enchanted spawn presented them without hesitation, and Yuri locked him in the room, a satisfied grin touching her lips as she set off down the corridor.

The splendor of the chamber, with its soaring arches and beautiful tapestries faded into the periphery as he squared his shoulders, focusing on the pale elf who lounged before him. The throne upon which Astarion reclined was a masterwork of twisted iron, complete with gold and ruby accents, echoing its owner's cruel elegance.

Gale's voice cut through the thick, musty air of the audience chamber with a clarity that spoke to the gravity of his words. "Duskshore's end was no natural disaster, as I’m sure you are well aware. It was rent asunder by magics most foul and potent."

"Evocation magic," He continued, the weight of each syllable seeming to rattle the very stones beneath their feet. "Of a caliber I've scarcely encountered."

Astarion's eyes narrowed, the sneer on his lips curdling into something darker. "Hm, interesting… and you wouldn’t possibly be here to insinuate that I—" he began, rising from his throne like a tempest given form.

"Would have been so foolish?" The wizard interjected, holding his old friend’s gaze unflinchingly. His heart pounded against his ribs, but he allowed none of it to surface. "You, who finds such delight in the personal touch of your particular brand of cruelty? Of course not."

The vampire paused, his expression unreadable for a moment that stretched on for far too long. Then, sinking back onto his throne, he let out a chuckle devoid of humor. "Fair enough. My tastes do run a bit more towards the…intimate end of things."

Gale's mind raced, searching for leverage, for any sign of deception.

Nothing.

He wove his next words carefully, taking into consideration the balance of power in the room. "Given the severity of the attack and the fact that Duskshore's fate occurred within the shadow of Baldur's Gate, I'm sure you understand why the council would not feel comfortable leaving this matter solely in the hands of local governance."

"Indeed," Astarion drawled, his fingers steepling before him. "Wise of them to send a 'neutral' party."

"Neutrality does have its advantages," He replied, though his thoughts churned with doubt. 

"Advantages, yes," The pale elf said, his eyes glinting with a predatory light. "But also... limitations."

"Perhaps," Gale conceded, his own gaze never wavering. "But necessary ones. Now, do you have any knowledge of what transpired? Any information could prove to be most crucial."

The Sovereign regarded him with a calculating stillness, then sighed theatrically. "I haven’t the slightest idea what happened - you have my word. And I would see it noted that if the council suspects me capable of such recklessness, well…perish the thought."

"Such assurances are a luxury we can’t afford at the moment," Gale replied gently.

"Mm...well, rest assured," Astarion finally stated, his voice low and laced with something that might have passed for sincerity in another life, "I have no desire to see all of my hard work reduced to ash by some unseen hand."

"Then we are aligned in purpose," The wizard acknowledged, hoping his relief did not seep into his words. "Let us find this perpetrator before they strike again. Together."

"Of course," The elf murmured, his gaze lingering on Gale for a moment longer before he waved a dismissive hand. "You will have my full cooperation. Just be careful not to overstep."

The beauty of the Audience Chamber was lost on Yuri as she slipped in through the side door, her eyes landing immediately on the two men who occupied the room, mid-conversation. The air between them crackled with tension like the charged moments before a storm, but she was pleased to see that it was indeed her wizard that had come to visit. The drow’s entrance, however, seemed to cut through the atmosphere like a knife, leaving a palpable slice of silence in her wake.

The vampire’s crimson eyes flashed to her, a tumultuous sea churning with surprise that quickly gave way to a darker undercurrent of possessiveness and fury. Gale, however, seemed to crumble under a different weight—the shock in his large brown eyes melting into worry, his body tensing.

"Yuri," Astarion began, his voice a controlled tremor that belied his effort to keep the raging fury at bay. "It is... most unwise to wander these halls unescorted."

"I apologize, my love," Yuri spoke, her voice as delicate as the silver strands that framed her face. She wove her lie with care, casting it out like a lifeline. "I asked the gentleman you had appointed to watch over me if he could fetch me some strawberries…I’m afraid the dizziness took me a bit by surprise this time, and I thought that some food might help alleviate it. But they’ve not returned, and the door—it was left unlocked. I only meant to find them. I swear."

Her heart thrummed against her ribs, a panicked bird desperate to escape its cage, as she awaited his response.

He studied her for a moment longer before his expression softened into something resembling understanding. He nodded, the subtle gesture calling her to him like a siren's song. "Come here, my dear," he said, the anger now hidden behind a curtain of gentleness.

She moved towards him, her steps measured as if crossing a battlefield, throwing Gale a subtle glance. The wizard's concern was etched deep within the lines of his face, a silent communication that spoke volumes of their past—a history marred by burning sarcasm and hard-won trust.

As she reached the Sovereign, he gently pulled her into his lap with the ease of one claiming a prized possession, his touch both protective and proprietary. "Did I take too much earlier?" he murmured, the words a soft caress against her ear.

"Perhaps," She admitted sheepishly, "I didn't feel weak until I tried to stand." She forced her voice to remain steady, despite the anxiety that roiled within.

"Ah," he tutted, clicking his tongue with feigned remorse while his fingers brushed her cheek in an intimate stroke. "My apologies, sweet girl. I indulged a bit more than necessary, I admit. It’s just so very difficult to pull away from something so…luscious," His breath was warm against her skin as he nuzzled into the crook of her neck, each motion calculated and deliberate.

Yuri's mind raced even as her body remained a passive canvas for his affections. How could she signal her plight to Gale without alerting Astarion? Every touch from the high-elf was a brand, marking her in ways that went beyond the physical. And yet, she knew she must tread carefully, for a single misstep could spell doom for more than just herself.

Gale's voice cut through the chamber, a sharp note of incredulity laced with concern. "Yuri, what in the Nine Hells are you doing here?"

Astarion's eyes narrowed to slits at the wizard's boldness, his grip on her tightening at his words. She could feel the pulse of his power coursing through the room, an undercurrent of danger beneath his serene facade.

"I was captured," she began, her voice a soft echo of fear and resolve, "By the Zhentarim. They beat me and left me for dead, as though my life were nothing but refuse." Her gaze flickered momentarily between the two men. "Astarion saved me. Nursed me back from death's door." Turning her head, she brushed her nose against Astarion's cheek, her breath catching as she played her part. "Isn't that right, love?"

"Indeed it is," Astarion confirmed with a predatory grin, his hand smoothing down her side before firmly cupping the curve of her ass, ownership emanating from the deliberate touch.

The wizard stepped closer, his voice a low, desperate plea. "Look at me, Yuri."

"Keep your distance, biir," The vampire growled, a warning clear in his tone.

She met Gale's gaze, and she saw relief flood his features as he took in the familiar lavender of her eyes. Still, confusion furrowed his brow, and she could see him struggling to piece together the fractured narrative before him.

"Why have we heard nothing from you?" He pressed on, his voice barely above a whisper. "Tana and Lyra have been looking everywhere for you. I’ve been looking everywhere for you!"

"Have you?" Yuri retorted, her heart breaking within her chest. "Have any of you really looked for me beyond what’s been convenient for you? Am I truly to believe anything besides that my friend's efforts have been just as fleeting as your own? For you’ve only found me just now, by mere happenstance." The words felt like acid on her tongue, and inwardly, she winced as they left her lips. She told herself that she had to be convincing and prayed that Gale would be smart enough to see through her. 

His shoulders sagged, the weight of her accusation visibly pressing down upon him. "You know that's not fair, Yuri. You know you don't mean that."

She struggled to fight back tears as Astarion's lips began to trail kisses along her neck, his mouth branding her skin as if to display the changed circumstances to their mutual acquaintance. She knew his affection was a performance, yet the message behind it was unmistakable: she belonged to him.

The drow fought to keep her expression neutral, to maintain the delicate balance between survival and betrayal. As Astarion's touch lingered on her skin and Gale's pained eyes searched hers, she was reminded that the line she walked was razor-thin. 

The air was thick with tension, a tangible presence that wove between the three figures like an invisible serpent. Yuri’s pulse hammered in her ears, each beat a desperate, unspoken plea for her friend to recognize her well enough to know that something was wrong. Her gaze lingered on him for just a moment longer before she posed a question, her voice a soft melody of feigned curiosity.

"What brings you here, Gale? What urgent matter calls you away from your precious Waterdeep?"

Before he could utter a single word, Astarion interjected, his tone dripping with a possessive smoothness. "He is here on business, sent by the Lords of Waterdeep to assist me with uncovering whatever it was that caused Duskshore to meet such a tragic fate.” 

"Well then, thank you in advance for your help," She said, her words laced with gratitude that didn't quite ring true. She glanced at the man before her again, hoping beyond hope to see any indication that he understood what was happening. "And Waterdeep...do you happen to know if they have plans to send aid for the refugees now burdening our city?"

The vampire’s lips curled into an approving grin as he seized the opportunity. "Ah, a very good question, my treasure. Have the esteemed Lords mentioned sending any practical help?"

Gale hesitated, his attention shifting between Yuri's carefully constructed expression and the high-elf's expectant gaze. "I cannot speak to the council's intentions with certainty on that particular matter, but I shall inquire on your behalf if you wish it."

"Please do," Astarion answered simply, dismissing the man with a wave of his hand. "Now if it’s all the same to you, it’s been quite a day and my darling and I would like to retire for the evening. You'll find accommodations at the Elfsong Tavern. The upstairs suite remains practically untouched— you shall stay there as our treat until your investigation is finished."

"Thank you, Astarion. And Yuri," Gale said, his voice heavy with unspoken words, "it's good to see you safe." He cast her one last searching glance before turning to leave, followed closely by a small escort of spawn. 

As the chamber door closed behind him, Astarion's fangs grazed Yuri's earlobe, sending a shiver down her spine. "My, my. What a perfect little consort," he murmured, his voice a silky threat.

She turned her head, her smile as fragile as glass, yet radiant enough to appease him. "Could I trouble you for some food now, my love? I’m still a bit wobbly."

"Anything for you, my sweet," He purred, his eyes glinting with a dark satisfaction. "Anything at all."

A/N: Hello, hello! I hope this update wasn't entirely garbage. I did my damndest, I promise! If you'd like to offer some feedback or just like/reblog if you're liking the story so far, that would be super cool and much appreciated! Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed the update, and I shall see you guys again real soon with the next! XoXo

[ biir - "garbage", An Elven term used as an insult against those of half-elven and human heritage. Info courtesy of this post by @spacebarbarianweird ]

[fomalhaut48]

DnD gems, vol. 30

Dragonkin PC1: "I lick PC2's neck."  PC2: "I yelp." PC1: "The advantages of a forked tongue..." PC2: "I don't wanna think about that!!!"

PC: "I call out to the druid, 'Hey Green Guy'..."

DM: "The corpse's hand reaches out and grabs your arm." PC: "I chop the rotting hand off!" DM: "Sorry, wait for your turn to do that..."

PC1: "Thank the Gods, they didn't hurt my beautiful face!" PC2: "You have a helmet, girl..." PC1: "I don't wear it." PC3: "Sure, she doesn't want her beautiful face hurt, but wants to show it off too!"

PC1: "I can only see one of the zombies and PC2, so I attack... the zombie, I mean! I can attack PC2 as well..." PC2: "You'll get radiant damage in your a**, if you do that!!!" PC1: "I'll swear it was an accident so much that no one will believe it..."

PC: "I attack the zombie with my sword!" DM: "One of the zombie's arms falls off." PC: "I attack again to have the other one off too!" DM: "Its head rolls off." PC: "Is it still alive?"

PC1: "Shut up, PC2, we know you're into vampires!" PC3: "Stop arguing about that, we have zombies to fight!" PC2: "Yeah, they're undead too, but I dislike zombies!" PC1: "You still want the vampire, then?" PC2: "Vampires cannot make children either, or is this freaking Twilight?!"

DM: "The zombie crackles as it burns." PC: "I Firebolt the other one too, let's see if it crackles as well!"

PC1: "I believe you, PC2." PC2: "Yes, because you're smart."

DM: "You see a lady sleeping on the bed." Dragonkin PC1: "I go in." PC2: "I follow him, if the lady awakes and PC1 is the first thing she sees, it won't be too nice."

DM: "The blood erupts from the blood pool." PC: "I am far enough, thank goodness my armor did not get stained."

PC: "I tell the unfriendly NPC I could not find the toilet in the Dark Lord's palace earlier, which was kinda unpleasant, but maybe I'm already done with it anyway..."

[zelskzerker]

Mangadex went down so I read alot 1/7

Lets review a bunch of isekai and related stuff I binged because mangadex went down. The scale will be a single thumbs up to a single thumbs down in terms of how much I would consider recommending it in general.

Legend

Chapters 1-51 Pretty straight forward in most aspects. For the best. Nothing crazy bad or good happening, making it surprisingly straight forward for an isekai. [Insert isekai startup here] but this time the MC is given a super magic body and the knowledge of ancient magic. Which he promptly uses to create a griffon buddy. Gets a THUMB IN THE UPPER CORNER for just being a nice, believable stay in a world, but I have read some stuff that really has interesting sparks the way this doesnt. MC is brutal at times and General Princess is cute. They make a good pair for each other.  Although there are no ecchi situations, that artist really knows how to slide in the lewds, whether its mid combat flourishes or pre chapter artwork.

The Black Create Summoner: Revolt of Reincarnated

All Chapters

Truly is revolting. A resounding THUMBS DOWN.  Apparently this was just an advertisement manga, which means that its intentionally incomplete and unsatisfying. Ontop of that, the sketchy artwork was generally rough and got worse to look at the more it went on. [Insert isekai startup here] but this time he has a grimoire that lets him summon stuff he draws. The power isn’t used that much though or in that creative of ways. Characters didn’t really leave an impact except maybe the elf little sister that is stubborn yet knows she is incompotent and recruits a dragon out of stubbornness. 

Minotaur’s Sweetheart

Chapters 1-16

So what if a minotaur accidentally seduced the adventurer that was assigned to kill him? This is a good romance manga deserving a THUMBS UP because the pure-hearted minotaur boy and the unmarriageable adventurer girl actually develop a relationship and progress as people. The manga is ultimately about monsters and humans interacting and is fresh due to having a plot that evolves the situation a lot beyond the initial setup of the manga.

Moon-led Journey Across Another World

Chapters 1-64

[Insert isekai startup here] but this time the god of the new world calls the MC ugly and banishes him to the edge of the world to die off. In order to help out the MC, the god of our world (Tsukuyomi) gives him a bit of power. The MC is funny to watch once you realize that he is an incredibly cautious pureboy and expecting every common street thug to potentially end him but in reality he is a god-rivaling cataclysm himself and never realizes. He is so powerful that he recruits the blue haired mist dragon, Tomoe, and accidentally turns her into a weeaboo. Tomoe can read minds and access pocket space with her mist ontop of her sick weeaboo katana skills. She really shines as the most mature person in the story, gaining information that no one else in the story has and carefully withholding it from the MC in order to protect his innocence. She is a DAMN good tomboyish waifu and sarashii is a blessing. Other main girl is yandere spider, Mio, which has shockingly good and well conveyed bouts of emotion. She has an extremely rare “can’t cook at all” joke that is explained due to her “eat literally anything” nature. In terms of plot, the MC hates the god of the world he is in and pretty much plans to do everything she doesn’t want him to. Which means mingling with humans, and eventually, god slaying/usurption. Odd think about this manga is that it’s heavily Japanese-inspired. That may sound odd because its a manga, but generally isekai are most medieval/western skinned than this one which leans in on Japanese mythos. Just look at the god of our world in the manga.

THUMBS UP.

The Unsuccessful yet Academically Unparalleled Sage ~A Cheating S-Rank Sorcerer's Post-Rebirth Adventurer Log~

Chapter 1-10 So lets set up this genre here. This is a part of the “reincarnation” genre, which is a spinoff of isekai. They generally depict a very capable mage who reincarnates themselves into the future of their own world. At which point they realize that although they were pretty strong in their day, they are now practically a god in the deteriorated modern day. This genre will hereby be indicated by [Insert reincarnation startup here]. For this manga in specific, [Insert isekai startup here] but this time the MC could only use lightning magic and was the best at it but failed the gene gacha then [Insert reincarnation startup here] and he fails gene gacha again but is still the walking thunder god. These kinds of manga are always precious when the MC can walk through the world and see the fruits of their past labor. Specifically through Merlin, the MC’s adopted demon daughter who has grown up to be his heritor and bridge human/demon relationships. Truly adorable and heart warming. Lacks a bit of spice from themeing or ongoing plot due to its short length however. THUMB IN THE UPPER CORNER.

Older Elite Knight is cute only in front of me

Chapters 1-17.1

THUMBS UP. This is an oneshota manga where shota is a chad with incredibly good tastes. A really good ecchi manga with a light hearted story featuring Haru(the shota) knight that joins Karen’s(the oneesan) knight crew. As with all good romance manga, the main plot isn’t romance. Knight shenanigins are always happening, with a big (and lewd) bad entering recently. Top tier variation on the lewds, even including a princess loli in on the fun. Must read for all oneshota fans.

Lonely Attack on A Different World

Chapter 1-91

[Insert isekai startup forma de classroom here] but this time the MC gets leftover garbage skills and has to learn to survive. Learning to survive thus makes him the most op and he can magic trick his way out of literally anything. Strong start as the whole classroom first tries to get their footing, but after the starting arc is done this manga starts spinning it’s wheels. The manga is kinda lacking in themes, overarching plot and end goals, so stuff just happens to make this a sort of slice of life trap room escape manga. Magic “just works” in this universe so its not very dramatic when the MC pulls out a new trick out of his bag of million tricks. Just kinda stagnates too much for my liking. THUMB IN THE BOTTOM CORNER.

The Unwanted Undead Adventurer

Chapters 1-34

Rentt Faina, the MC, is a good guy with no talent who aspires to be a legendary adventurer. But then he gets turned into a skeleton, giving the chance to evolve his way to greatness, kinda like in Spider isekai or Dragon isekai. The MC is most like Goblin Slayer in his serious and knowledgeable approach to the world, how characters that know him revere him. End goal so far is just him seeing how far he can evolve as he comes across other vampires and vampire hunters. Really want to see him go to the top. Fuckin great art. Girls drawn perfect. Like the hat on the guild girl, but nothing beats the witch Lorraine. THUMBS UP.

Teihen Ryoushu No Kanchigai Eiyuutan

Chapters 1-13

THUMB IN UPPER CORNER. Pretty funny comedy about a lord of a poor land who wants to be a stereotypical evil lord but can only use healing magic. Therefore he bumbles his way into accepting a heretical cult nun, beast men who hate humans, etc. All the girls are to crazy for him to want to sex them(weak. give the assassin nun your babies). Most interesting parts are aforementioned nun, his fujoshi assistant, and the MC’s willingness to use his power to commit heretical and immoral warcrimes. 

The Undead Lord of the Palace of Darkness

Chapters 1-11

Art average, don’t come to this one for spectacle. It’s strength is in the subertfuge that it’s recently-necromanced-back-to-life MC goes through to get his Master killed and to later, probably, evolve into a vampire. MC isn’t evil though, just wants to survive. Main girl on cover was born and raised to hunt vampires but has a compassionate heart. Obviously she goes easy on and relates to MC. Story is still kinda in it’s first arc so the overall trajectory of the story is a bit hard to gauge and not quite satisfying enough by its own right. Probably a thumb up with more chapters but for now THUMB IN THE UPPER CORNER.

The Reincarnated Inferior Magic Swordsman

Chapters 1-38

[Insert isekai startup here] but this time.... uh... THUMB SIDEWAYS. Usually I am patient, but 31 chapters with no goal and just barely plot? Wow. Saving grace is uh... I guess the world of “other isekai people existed but they sucked because they didn’t level uncap like MC” could go somewhere but. I take it back, lowering this one to a THUMB DOWN.

The Invincible Sage in the Second World.

Chapters 1-12

[Insert isekai startup here] but this time a pro mmo player in a game called “Broken Balance Online.” Guess what his class, the sage class, was considered in the game? Not far along enough to really pop off but it isn’t horrible. MC is moderately cautious to a healthy degree which is actually rare in most isekai. THUMB IN BOTTOM LEFT CORNER. 

The Dark Queen and I Strike Back

Chapters 1-29.5

Although technically an isekai, no isekai startup here. This a battle manga with a big mystery on the backdrop of a war. That is to say, the MC gets teleported to a world to kill the demons but he ends up defending them from the humans with all he’s got. Of special note is the complete seriousness of this manga that whiplashes into debauchery like tentacles, the above cover, oneshota, and even really dark jokes in some of the omake. That tonal lash effect will be either make or break, and it is a HUGE make for me. I love when a single piece can have both absolute serious scenes and utterly lighthearted and fluffy ones. Or in this case utterly lewd ones. May the average-human-amount-of-perverted MC one day slam some demon lord loli. THUMBS UP.

Chillin' in Another World with Level 2 Super Cheat Powers

Chapters 1-24

THUMB SIDEWAYS. Has the feeling of a nerfed slime isekai. Nerfed in all ways except romance. Art surprisingly good.

[shadowwater]

Kuraki Kyuuden no Shisha no Ou

I really liked this one. They took some overused elements and turned it into something fresh. The biggest challenge of making stories is to add your own twist to overused tropes, so that readers don’t feel that it is the same generic story. I feel that till the 10 chapters I have read, they did a good job of it.

This manga is about a noble boy who was bedridden ever since he was young because of his illness. All he wanted was to live and be free. However, he woke up to find himself in a dark place. A man named Holos Carmen gave him the name End and called him a fleshman. It was then he realised that he was dead. The MC found out that he had the ability to think and move freely unless that man who was a necromancer gave him an order. The MC is a pretty smart person, but smartness cannot help him much with his lack of knowledge. His struggle to break free from his Lord’s clutches has another obstacle in the form of the Chivalric Order of Demise. This Order strives to kill all the beings related to darkness and since he himself is an undead, even if he won’t cause any harm, they would still kill him. So, this story is a three-way war between him, the necromancer and the Order. Another character I must mention is the Order’s second class knight Senri. She is talented in swordsmanship and was born with a remarkable amount of ‘Blessing’. Her weakness is her compassionate heart and her naivety.

I shall stop myself from blabbing any further. Go read it and then regret its slow update as I am for this manga and many others. This also has a light novel apparently.

[pursuitseternal]

“Scald Me:” Let the Vampire Lord Astarion tend to your every comfort, 🔥 update to “The Rogue You Were”

Ascended Astarion x F!Reader | E | 3K of comfort, bath sex

Summary: you have those nightmares again, filled with death and fear and tentacles. You seek comfort alone, wanting to scald the fear from your body, but only one man’s attentions will give you what you seek… and more.

CW: soft!Ascended Vampire Lord, Tav ptsd dreams, one scared maid, comfort, dexterous hands washing your hair, bath sex, tub sex, one very wet tile floor…

Ao3 link | Astarion Fic Masterlist

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

Months since you’ve turned immortal. Months since your nights on the road, your days covered in blood and your mind racing with the thrill of danger and the constant mystery that was your life.

You have a palace, a lover, your immortal life protected from enemies. Your nights are spent in orgasms and luxury, your days still involving blood, but not of your enemies. Only his. Only Astarion’s blood, rife with his Ascended power that he keeps flowing into you as well.

But still, the nightmares come, the feeling of death breathing down your neck, the ghost of a squirming tadpole in your brain. The faces of those lives you took sometimes flit before… enemies and innocents, monsters and villains. You wake sweating in your sheets, hands still feeling the stick of blood.

You still hear his ghost sometimes in your head, your Dream Visitor, before you knew who he truly was… Even undead, powerful and loved, you are haunted.

The fear of becoming an Ilithid, the need to fight and flee, it still runs hot in your cold blood.

On nights in your bed, you cuddle into Astarion for comfort, for warmth. The one thing that grounds you and protects you from those lingering phantoms.

But today, you wake alone, your lover yet returning from business outside the City. The chilling sweat makes you feel well and truly dead. You need to get warm, to wash away the hovering darkness of your trauma.

You rise from bed, eager for your morning bath. Something to warm you from the chill of your memories and chase the fear from your shivering body. Crossing into your bathing room, the maid, some little new thing hired, already pours the last pitcher of steaming water into the enamel tub. She shakes as you enter, her eyes cast away. But you thank her, regardless of her deference…

Until you dip your hand into the water. The waves of your angst, your irritation, they reach their own boiling point.

“This water is cold,” you snap. Your head lifts with ferocity to stare down the girl. She is young, shivering. But so were you once. “Unacceptable,” you hiss. “Would you have made it so for the Master?”

“N-n-no, my lady,” she fumbles quietly, keeping her head lowered. You can’t even see her face.

“Am I not also powerful? A hero of the City?” you feel the swell of your wrath pouring out, misguided, misdirected, but it feels so good to let it out regardless. “I want this water hot. Scalding. Enough to boil the flesh from your skull if you fail me again.”

“Tch, tch,” a warm, velvety voice pours over from the doorway behind you. “My consort, you don’t need to threaten to prove your power, darling.”

You spin, Astarion locking eyes with yours. He leans against the frame, handsome as ever, his hair just a little more unruly than normal, you perceive. Instantly he assesses your state, your inner turmoil, your hurt, your rage. And he meets it with a distant look of concern. “Run along, girl, and fetch your mistress water hot enough to scald her.” He jerks his head, the servant instantly rushing out of the room. If she is crying, she holds back her tears until she is clear of their sight.

Frozen, dread rushing in your veins, you can only grip the edge of the tub and let your body shake. The tremors don’t even cease once you feel his warm hands on your shoulders, rubbing them gently to bid the tension away. “You really should save your fangs and threats for our enemies, you don’t need the practice on little girls who will only cry themselves senseless at your power, my darling.”

You say nothing, swallowing as you stare at your reflection in the water. The hardness and pain in the new crimson of your eyes stares back. A transferred gift of Astarion’s power, it seems—your lasting reflection.

His touch leaves one shoulder, dipping his fingers in the bath, little ripples running away from the intrusion. “My dearest, why, this water is hot enough to turn you to a broth. Why don’t you get in?”

You hear the comfort in his tone, his gentle attempts to soothe you where you feel raw and frightened. But you can only hiss in reply, “Why don’t you get in then?”

“If you insist,” he croons, and you hear the slip of his clothes from his perfect, lustrous skin. “A long day of threats and placating, of flying back to your side the moment I could sense your fear in your sleep… I’ll need some extra rejuvenation to stay looking this good for you, my treasure.”

Your breath hitches, body frozen at the weight of his words, hidden behind his bravado. “You… you could sense it…”

He says nothing at first, waiting half-naked beside you, pale chest just perfect as the steam swirls around you both. Eyes searching yours, he takes his damp hand from the tub to smooth your hair off one shoulder. A simple gesture done hundreds of times already, a precursor mostly to feeding. Or fucking. But this time, it meant neither.

These were tender, little petal-soft strokes on your skin. Meant to soothe. He slips your dressing gown from your shoulders, careful not to touch your skin too much. “I can sense your pain as your maker, do not forget, be that a prick of your finger or the torment of your dreams.” His voice is soft, flowing over your shoulder, wrapping you in that purr, that velvet caress he uses to soothe you back to him.

For those times you are trapped again in fear and tentacles and gore. The times he assures you that you have not only his blood, his power, his protection, but his heart as well.

Mercifully gentle, his hand steadies around yours, moving it to caress the surface of the water. It sucks your fingers in, flawless surface breaking to take in your touch. You feel it this time, the warmth of the water, the heat of his hand pressed into the back of yours. You shiver. But his touch grips firmly around your hand, encouraging you to step inside the waters fully.

Steam sweeps around you, mist brushing your face, laden with sweet oils of orange flower and citrus. Sharp and clean and luxurious. One leg sinks into the bath, then the other. But nothing is as hot as the way his touch scalds you, softly guiding you down into the warm embracing waters.

You sink to your neck, gasping after a moment. After you realize his touch has left your flesh.

“Astarion,” you call, that old dread of waking alone with only your pain as friend grips fast on your heart once more. Spinning, the water slashes roughly over the enamel edge.

“Tch,” he sucks his teeth as he withdraws, the water soaking his pale skin, dripping down his legs, still half-clothed. “If money were a concern, I’d chide you for ruining these silks, my love.” His smirk warms you, your eyes now filled only with the sight of him.

His lustrous skin covered in rivulets of scented water, his muscles flexing as he frees himself of the rest of his drenched and ruined trousers. Even that sight of his softened cock makes you flush warmer as you glance it between his legs. Your chest eases as his eyes lock solely into yours. That now matching shade of crimson, that matching fang-toothed smile… you give him no room, forcing him to climb into the waters by sliding his ruinous body right down yours.

Not that he cares, not from that steep-angled tilt of his head or from the heavy, half-lidded gaze he rakes over your chest.

The slosh of water smacks the tile floor as he pulls you close, one hand sweeping a palm full of water to wash the tear streaks from your cheek. “You will have to thank me, to congratulate me, I have never flown so quickly from Waterdeep in my life, undead or not, when I felt your dreams,” he whispers.

“Flown?” you try to tease, but even that single word sounds forced and hollow in your tight and ravaged throat. “Mist… bat…?”

“Mist is far faster you know, my treasure,” he keeps his voice soft and rolling deep in his chest as he pours another handful of water to wash your neck. “And I was in such a state to hurry to your side.” His hand presses your cheek now, turning your face into his. “More memories of our… journey?”

He was careful in his words, as you are with him. You never mention his former tormentor and master, he never mentions the Emperor or Ilithids or the Absolute. Not unless you first bring them up.

Your breath shakes, but you nod. “It was…” you stop. The images that flashed in your dreams returning just as violently as before.

The warmth of his thumb strokes your lips, softly willing them to continue. “I’m all pointy ears, my treasure…”

That makes you grin reluctantly. Words you once heard so often, imbued now with his purring, powerful tones. The words of the Spawn in the voice of the Ascendant.

And that pet name for you that took to your heart instantly. His treasure. His most precious possession, for the man that has everything and that can give you anything. The thing dearest to him in the world.

And right now, he is yours. You didn’t even need to ask.

A loud swallow passes over your dry throat. “I dreamt of it all again, the Nautiloid, the Netherbrain…” you close your eyes, shutting them tight as if you could block out the visions in your mind. “Friends reduced to ash, to tentacles, lost forever…”

His palm presses against the side of your head to draw you near until your forehead nestles in the crook of his neck, cradled on the plane of his shoulder. “You’re not alone in this, remember, none of us were, neither of us are now,” he whispers against the top of your head.

He falls silent, little cupping handfuls of water to dribble over your cheek, through your hair, and down your back. Its warmth is far from scalding, but it slowly begins to soothe. “When those same demons come to plague me, my darling, I like to remember that first sunset after the Brain fell. The way my head felt suddenly lighter once it was free, the way the sun still kissed my face, scalding my skin with almost the same heat that I felt for you, my need for you, my treasure.”

“Hmmm,” you pause, letting your mind drift over the softer moments you had shared. “Remember how rakish you were in the Grove, the night we defeated the Goblin Camp…”

“It wasn’t all smoke and mirrors, empty bluster you know,” his fingers lift from the bath, pinching your face softly. “My little treat. Your cheeks were so rosy and flushed. There was no better place to burn off your bloodlust than my bed, darling…” he purrs into your ear, that sensual curl in his voice, that honeyed seduction that still catches you off guard. You hope in all the ages you will share with him, it never ceases to jolt you right in your belly with lust.

“You still shiver so, darling.”

You do in fact shake, even as his arm holds you against his skin, even as the water does begin to seep into your bones. “Then warn me. Nothing makes me feel scalding like you can, my love,” you whisper, turning to meet his gaze. You are met with such intensity, such vivid concern, you don’t need a spell cast to know you worry him more than any other being in this realm or the next when you get like this.

“What do you have in mind, my consort?” he begs the question, even as his hand moves through the water, fingers pressing at your hip to guide you closer. To move you onto him.

You press a hand on his chest, bracing against his mighty strength when he wants you on his cock—already erect beneath the waters. You can tell. “Won’t you finish washing me first? Before you make me very, very dirty?” you simper, eyes wide and lashes batting. That lust makes your innards thaw, the stiffness of fear draining from your muscles as he feigns a look of disinterest as he considers it. “I’m sure there are other ways for me to feel scalding, blistering hot than just slipping your cocking between my legs….”

You swirl the water around that length, watching his smirk twist all the more at the motion. “Only because I do so adore you will I allow it. Even still, you will need to come closer,” his voice rings with that powerful, silken chime. His hands grip hard into your ass, using that weightlessness of the water to swish you onto his lap. The warmth of his skin caresses beneath your thighs, your ass. That comfort of his body grounds you like nothing else in these realms. And you sigh, most of your fear and tension melting away at last.

You close your eyes, those lithe and dexterous hands begin to pour water over your hair. More of that scented oils fills your nose as fingers so skilled at picking locks and stroking your clit scrub into your scalp. “Mmm, delicious,” you begin to smile.

And he chuckles slowly at the echo of his own flirtation flung back in his face. “Savor it, pet. I’m sure there are ways to repay my kindness for kindness shortly.”

“You don’t mean kindness…do you,” you tilt your head forward again, meeting his eyes, and instantly you aren’t wet between your thighs from just the bath water any longer.

“No, little love,” his hands pull you flush, belly to belly, hard enough to make his cock prod up against you. “I do not.” His hands grip hard into your sudsy hair, just a bit of divine pain tingling as he tugs it, angling you head back, bearing your neck as his eyes scan that pale column he hungers for still. “Now, be a good girl, let’s get you cleaned, and then you’ll know just how hot you make me.” His hands pour water down your head over and over again, and your eyes flicker shut. The reverence in his touch grows edged with desire, you can feel his haste. His cock twitches every time you breathe in deeply, deep enough to make your breasts drag their straining nipples against his chest.

You shake your head from the longer trickles, a devious grin on your lips as you scoop a palm of water. “What about your turn… wash that sweat off your curls as you hurried to my rescue?”

“You wouldn’t dare get these flawless locks wet, would you?” he feigns a snarl. “I will not look like a drowned cat when I finally warm you from the inside out, my pet.” Quicker than breath, he grabs your hand midair and sinks it into the blissful warm waters again. He gives you that wicked, mischievous giggle to punctuate the quiet before he wraps both sets of fingers around his cock.

Hotter than the waters. Hard and awaiting and twitching the moment you catch its pulse. You feel him slide deeper into the waters, lifting you up just enough to instantly slot himself between your thighs. You gasp, the fullness so familiar and arousing, so comforting to be fit perfectly again.

Water begins to splash over the porcelain edge behind him as you join at last. Slowly, you pace yourself, letting the waters warm your skin as you ride him. His eyes bore into you, flickering down every now and then to watch your breasts dipping in and out of the bath as you keep your rhythm.

Astarion keeps his hands clawed into your hips, grounding you among the swirls and splashes that lap around you. Those crimson eyes still scan all about you, observing every detail, every bat of your eyes and tremor of your lips. Making fully certain he chases away those lingering ghosts from you…

Just as you do for him.

His lips curl as you increase your pace, your fingers now clutched hard around the ivory lip of the tub. You ride him with abandon, water cresting in waves to drench the floor. But you’re sure your cunt is far more drenched. The slick inside you hot from the sweet pressure he gives you, the little thrusts he makes when you sink back down to crush his thighs.

Breath matches breath, his mouth so close, so open, you lose all sense of what air is yours or his. The little groans you make grow more ragged, his voice in your ear as you hang your head. Lost to the growing swell of pleasure in your belly. “My love,” he purrs. “My consort and queen… my most precious treasure…”

The muscles of his thighs clench beneath you, hips now slamming up into with haste and recklessness. Out of control, he arches back, head resting against your gripping hands on the tub.

But his words, his undoing inside you, it’s all enough to throw you into that heat he conjures under your skin.

Heat so burning, the gush of your arousal as you come does scald you. You can barely whimper his name, feeling his own shudders of climax take him. You feel your juices trickle between your thighs, hot to the touch before the waters wash it away.

Those damp, silver curls rest on your shoulder, their flawless swoops wet and heavy from steam as he nuzzles against your neck. “Feeling better?” he sighs softly. “Scalding enough for you?”

You run your dripping hand into that tantalizing hair, raising him off your shoulder. That look of smug satisfaction, that glow of his own climax, flushing his pale skin and sharpening his defined cheeks and jaw, it steals your breath. “Always with you, my love,” you reply. “Always scalding.”

[mangareconforu]

⭐KURAKI KYUUDEN NO SHISHA NO OU⭐

English name : The Undead Lord of the Palace of Darkness

Author : Tsukikage

Synopsis : Striking the infected with incessant pain that runs throughout the body, a strange, debilitating, and deadly illness. The life of the boy who had suffered several years with this affliction had come to end with little time for him to despair as he died without an attendant by his side. When he awoke again, he had been made into the lowest ranked undead by an evil necromancer. Though the boy rejoiced at having obtained a body that could not feel pain, he immediately realized that he was still at the mercy of others. There was no large difference between his present situation and being confined in bed. However, the world could not leave the boy alone when he wished to be at peace. With freedom as his goal, what he needed was prudence and power. Occasionally running, fighting, fearful, and hesitant, this is the story of the cowardly King of Undead as he seeks to be free.

Genre : shounen, action, fantasy, romance

Fun fact : the manga is written from a light novel of the same name. It has began to be published in 2020.

Where to read (English) : mangakakalot.com

Where to read (Spanish) : lectortmo.com

[pugadaa]

[sheadre]

It Has Been Long Since We Met (Hua Cheng x Male!Reader) One-shot

Summary: Reader was the cousin of Xie Lian who's kingdom fell right after Xian Le. He met a gruesome death, however, his want for revenge turned him into a ghost. After avenging his death by killing the culprit of his kingdom falling, he secluded himself and never left his lands. Until his cousin appears with a red clothed companion. Said companion is none other than Hua Cheng who seems to be more than just a ghost king.

Requested: yes / no by @thanajs

Word count: 1952

It has been long since you last left your domain. The constant darkness that engulfed your lands and palace was suffocating for others but for you, it was warm and filled you with contentment. Looking out at the gardens you took care of, you spotted two figures approaching the entrance, one dressed in all white interrupting the darkness of the scenery, one dressed in red with shiny trinkets. You furrowed your eyebrows as you watched them.

Did something happen that these two decided to visit your lands? Not that it mattered. You had nothing left in the world of the living. Turning away from the window, you went down to greet your guests, after all, they made it here through the many tricks and traps that littered the path to your palace. You carefully sat down behind the table in the center of the hall and motioned to one of your undead soldiers to fetch some tea. By the time the skeleton soldier returned, your guests knocked on the doors.

“You may come in!” you called out. The doors opened and the two figures slipped inside the palace. The white clothed looking around in wonder as he took in the interior, his eyes quickly landing on your collection of swords. It was not much compared to collections you saw back when you were a mortal, but you decided to keep one in memory of your cousin. The red clothed man walked behind the white robed, his posture straight, hands behind his back, his steps sure as he walked. His one good eye was trained on your sitting form.

You smiled at them and lifted your cup as a toast to them.

“You’ve been the first ones to enter my palace, congratulations! Come, let me serve you some tea.”

You carefully poured them each a cup of steaming hot oolong tea, then looked up at them. Your eyes widened at the sight of your cousin. Never in a million years did you expect to see him again. You thought he died when his kingdom fell. Back then, you were quickly escorted back to your own kingdom so as to not let any harm come to you. It was a mistake though. When you reached the palace of the capital, the dead bodies of the entire court awaited you with your murderer in the middle.

“(Name)!” Xie Lian broke out in a wide grin, his handsome face lighting up with happiness. You blinked a few times, then got up from your seat and approached him quickly.

“Xie Lian! It has been so long! I thought you died!” you smiled back at him. “Come, come, sit with me! Tell me everything!”

“Thank you, (Name).” he nodded and quickly sat, accepting the cup you gave him. He told you how things ended in Xian Le then started asking you about your kingdom. Exchanging stories and what the other missed, you both reminisced in the old times. Then your cousin patted his companion’s arm and introduced him to you as Hua Cheng. You knew about him or the tales told about him but you never saw him in real life. The lord of Ghost City was extremely good looking, his confidence and arrogance could only be noticed if he was facing an enemy. Which he did not at the moment as he looked at you, meeting your (e/c) eyes. The half smile he gave you made you blush and duck your head.

“Ah? What’s wrong?” Xie Lian asked, his gentle voice laced with worry.

“It has been long… since I interacted with anyone… forgive me for being a little bit awkward…”

“Ever since you emerged from the Tonglu mountain, you have never stepped foot outside of your lands, your highness.” Hua Cheng noted as he stared at you. “Everyone expected you to kill thousands of ghosts and take over a place from someone. I wanted to meet you, to be honest and was very disappointed when you did not show up in Ghost City.”

“Ah… That is…” you rubbed the back of your head nervously. “I… didn’t want to cause trouble. This is a place I very much like. I bother no one here.”

“You’ve always been like that, (Name), but the servants were rather annoyed because they were supposed to serve you. If you had no orders, they didn’t know what to do and if they weren’t busy, they got punished.” Xie Lian said. “I never understood why father or uncle wouldn’t change that way of thinking by forbidding the head servants to punish maids.”

“I never liked when others tried to dress me up…” you averted your gaze embarrassed.

“Why? Isn’t it nice when someone takes care of you, your highness?” Hua Cheng asked suddenly, his tone implying something entirely different making the blood in your body rush up to your face.

“San Lang, be nice to (Name), we are his guests after all.” Xie Lian scolded his friend, then turned back to you. “By the way, we came here because someone told us that you could gather information from everywhere. Could you help us out this time?”

“What is it that you want to know?”

You were paying attention to each word your cousin told you while explaining the situation, giving him a hum in response sometimes. When he finished, you called one of your undead soldiers over, ordering him to find the information your cousin needed. Xie Lian watched in awe as your servant was swallowed back into the ground.

“Under the ground, they can exchange information quite quickly. The ones buried in the earth are still very much alive if they couldn’t find closure.” you explained shortly before your servant came back and you translated the information to your cousin. Patting the undead soldier’s head, you dismissed it.

“Do you want one of my servants to accompany you? That way you can ask it to gather information for you anytime you need to.” you raised an eyebrow.

“I cannot ask such a big favor.”

“Nah, I have plenty of others here besides, I can watch over you if you need some help.” you shook your head.

Your guests stood from the table with you as you escorted them over to the door, seeing them out. Xie Lian was already out when Hua Cheng turned back to you, his eye looking at you with something unnerving yet it had no bad intentions.

“Your highness, I am glad I had the chance to meet you in the end. Would you mind if I come back for another visit sometime later?”

He was leaning so close now that you could almost feel your noses touching. Hua Cheng was staring deeply into your soul, taking your breath away with his gaze.

“I will make sure to turn off the traps, just send a servant forward when you arrive.” you replied breathlessly, feeling like your head was about to explode. Then he smiled and left.

For days, you sat in your bedroom, looking out the window while trying to not freak out. What did the lord of Ghost City want from you? Did you do something? Filled with nervousness and anxiety, you just sat there, waiting for him to come back. Then another few days passed and he didn’t show up yet. For the first time in centuries, you wished to know what was gonna happen once he showed up. It filled you with questions, uncertainty and fear. You’ve spent so many years alone that you grew used to the silence. Ever since your cousin and Hua Cheng appeared, you felt the empty halls and quiet suffocating.

The darkness was a constant presence in your domain, engulfing everything around. Staring out the window, you sighed for the hundredth time that morning, hoping that the red clothed ghost would return and put you out of your misery. You were startled out of your thoughts by an undead soldier announcing Hua Cheng’s return. It was a little startling that you didn’t notice the creature you created and fed with your power. Jumping to your feet, you ran down to the main hall, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. If he was here to kill you, then you should quickly get over it.

You watched as the doors opened, revealing the Lord of Ghost City. He was now dressed in more lavish clothes and seemed to be younger? With two eyes? What? Confusion filled your mind as you stared at him, trying to comprehend what was going on. He just smiled back at you as he walked up to you nonchalantly.

“Your highness, I hope I do not inconvenience you by showing up so out of the blue.” he said.

“It is… wait, why are you insisting on calling me by a title that is no longer mine?” you furrowed your eyebrows. Hua Cheng’s steps faltered for a fraction of a second then continued his way to you.

“People like us, always stay in the past, that is why we become ghosts. We cannot let go of grudges, right?”

Even though he looked younger, he was still towering over you. You felt your heart rapidly beat in your chest as he stopped right in front of you, his body almost colliding with yours.

“Perhaps that is kind of true.” you nodded and turned away, leading him back upstairs to the large balcony. You created your palace to be the exact copy of the palace of your long perished kingdom with each column and statue in the right place. When you came to this balcony, you were reminded of your parents sitting there, enjoying their tea and watching over their home they loved. Then you spoke up again once you stopped by the railing. “But leaving those meaningless titles behind means that I moved on even if the memories are burned in my mind.”

“Then what may I call you?” Hua Cheng asked. Suddenly, he was right behind you, his chest pressing lightly into your back. The contact was foreign yet you felt right being so close to him.

“Whatever you want to. I don’t mind.” you shrugged trying to play it cool.

“What about…” for a while he stayed silent, then you felt him lean forward, his breath fanning against your ear and neck. “A-(Name), can I call you that?”

You knew your ears must’ve betrayed you as you felt them growing a deep shade of red. In response, you could only give him a terse nod and was planning on getting away from him, when Hua Cheng trapped you in a hug, resting his weight on you.

“I will stay with calling you your highness. That is how I met you.”

Your eyes widened at that. Have you met him before? Scrambling out of his hold, you turned to him with your eyebrows furrowed deeply. You grabbed his chin, turning it left and right to take in his face. Then, you spotted the little, almost invisible scar beside his right ear. With a gasp, you let go of him, tears gathering in your eyes. It couldn’t be. This couldn’t be him. The kid who tried to follow you back to your kingdom. The kid who was beaten by the servants escorting you. He was almost dead when you could finally get close enough to him, shielding him from the beatings.

Hua Cheng just smiled at you gently with a warmth you haven’t felt in quite a while. That scar was left by a knife one of the servants tried to use on him but due to your intervention, they didn’t manage to.

“It has been long since we last crossed paths, your highness.” he said.

End ~

A/N: I will probably do a smut sequel but it will be only posted on deviantart. I will link it in once it's out! Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

[rein-ette]

for @needcake's request, 5 times Engport died and one time they saved each other.

III.

Portugal finds him in the attic. The ceiling of the inn is heavily slanted, and through the drawn curtain hardly any light comes through. The room is musty and damp and smelled of — of rot, of festering wounds, of things falling apart.

England himself is still.

No one had bandaged his wounds, so lying on the bed infested with all manner of pests his body was a rich tapestry of reds and browns and mottled grey. Sickness cradled his spectral figure in its wings, perched on the headboard as it tore into its meal with abandon. For a moment, Portugal thought England was already dead.

Then he coughed, eyelashes fluttering weakly. Gabriel, he mouthed, voice long consumed by the illness — by the war, damn those things — that ravaged his body. Portugal saw the question in his eyes, anyways. Why are you here?

"To take you home," he murmured, brushing his knuckles over one bare cheekbone, rising from his pale skin like the spine of a great beast. "Did you think I could not find you? That I would not come for you?"

England only gazes at him. In the desolate landscape of his face, only his eyes remain a fevered green, too bright. Two jewels, set in clay.

He does not — cannot — protest when Portugal wraps his body in cloth, cradling his frail figure against his chest. Does not protest when Portugal carries him down the stairs, does not protest when he's forced onto the horse and Portugal rests his forehead against his and murmurs. It's not far. Hold on to me.

He does not protest, but oh — oh, how Portugal wishes he had.

England is dead now. Lying on a soft bed, cradled by linen and silk and velvet canopies, he's hidden away like some stolen treasure — an antique sword, a broken childhood doll — stashed in an opulent corner between Lisbon and the sea. This far away from his isles, the sun finally warms his skin, but his eyes are fixed and dark.

Portugal guards his corpse and regrets.

IV.

Tomás was — to say the least — confused.

He began getting a little disoriented when the first Dutch cannon struck their ship, and when the Dutch themselves boarded he was kind of lost — but to be confused in the chaos of battle was normal. Fights with the Dutch were normal. Even losing was pretty normal; their captain may fight like the undead, but the crew was only human, and they had been caught alone without escort.

At least, their captain had fought like the undead, until a tall Dutch sailor put a sword through his belly and a shot in his shoulder. Then he’d really just been dead.

That was when Tomás’ confusion really started. Because after killing their captain, the Dutch soldier had simply waved a hand and left, soldiers straggling behind as they made their way back to their own ship. The cannons fell silent moments later, and Tomás own battered comrades hadn’t tried to pursue. Watching their enemy’s flags disappear into the distance, Tomás had helped drag their barely conscious captain below deck as he pondered over this strange occurrence: in the middle of a war, a Dutch warship had just caught them, trounced them, and simply let them go.

But that had not been all. For just as he was leaving the sick bay, an officer had grabbed him in the hall and rasped, “Tell the navigator to set course for Dover.” Wide-eyed, Tomás had only managed to squeak out an affirmative before he’d been released, leaving him standing there with a bloody cloth with one hand and absolutely no clue why they were about to head into enemy territory after they had, uh, just been utterly destroyed by their enemy.

Still, Tomás had done his job and relayed the message, expecting that to be the end of the madness. He was only a rigger, he reasoned — if he just followed orders surely everything would straighten themselves out with time.

He was wrong. Now, a week later, Tomás still understood nothing. He had orders to find one Sir Kirkland, Lord of Canterbury, but he had no idea if he’s found the right one. When he’d asked the first mate what this Lord Kirkland looked like, the first mate had only shrugged and said, “Never met ‘im. Probably a geezer, since he’s a lord.”

Yet this young man standing in the doorway in front of Tomas, claiming to be Lord Kirkland, could not have been older than twenty.

“Are you or are you not one of Gabriel’s men?” The man demanded impatiently. His Portuguese was heavily accented, but clear.

“Yes. Yes sir.”

“And? What does the bastard want with me?”

“He’s dead, sir. My first mate asked me to come get you. Sir.”

The young man — Lord Kirkland — raised his eyebrows. His gaze seemed to skewer Tomás right through his skull. “Dead.” He repeated. Tomás nodded hesitantly. Lord Kirkland muttered something in his own language under his breath, then rolled his eyes and said, “Fine.” Fine? “Joseph!” He barked to someone in the interior of the manse. “Get this man a horse and ready the carriage. And call the doctor, for god’s sake, Gabriel’s gone and gotten himself killed again.” He whirled around and pinned Tomás with another look. “What’s your name?”

“Tomás Santiago, sir.”

“Thanks for your hard work, Santiago. After we put your captain back together, I’ll tell him to give you a bonus.”

Tomas stared. Put him back together? Bonus? Wasn’t the captain dead?

But this Lord Kirkland guy was still look at him expectantly, so he stuttered out a “Yes, sir” again and thanked him.

A few minutes later, Tomás left on a fine horse more confused than ever.

Notes

Scene 3 is set during the English Civil War (1642–1651). Portugal brings him to the Ribeira Palace, which used to be where the Praça do Comércio is now situated.

Scene 4 is during the Dutch-Portuguese wars. But it’s pretty much crack, so there’s really no need to say more.

[doctorslippery]

Shea Longshanks – A human drug lord who has taken control of a wing of the prison and requires rent from others in his wing. He has a group of henchmen and acts as if he is a guard/warden.

Malcer Holden – A well-dressed half-elf necromancer who will not state why he is here. In return for information, he requires spoons, which he provides to his army of undead in hopes of digging his way out.

Zenbis Axor – A yellow dragonborn who will not speak to anyone she encounters. She possesses immense magical power but chooses to spend her days solitarily in her cell. Nobody knows the story behind her.

Durgar Steely – This dwarf holds an infinitely refilling beer glass and nobody in the prison has ever seen him sober. He is very friendly and can just about speak and walk normally.

Naroxius – The source of annoyance for much of the prison, Naroxius always manages to find a way to vandalize the prison. He has made clear that he will stop at nothing to escape, however all that he has managed to do is anger other inmates and staff. His current cell now consists of a wooden slab in the corner, after he fireballed his previous one

Argus Shatterhorn – A goliath and zealous follower of a crazed war god. He’s seemingly possesses an infinite trove of energy and vitality, laughing and preaching loudly despite being literally skewered to a wall in his cell. Nothing can shut him up short of magical silence, which he doesn’t seem to notice.

The Witch of Cretchreaver – A very polite sounding woman behind a foot of concrete and a metal door. She requests that you open the tiny hole so that she can get a look at you. She’s a medusa with her eyes pressed against the other side.

Slobfoot the Eloquent – An educated, well spoke goblin who tried to incite a political revolution. He gives a very deep, loquacious philosophical speech to the party.

Thaddeus Null – A blue dragonborn and self-proclaimed God. He doesn’t seem arrogant beside that, just comfortable and quiet. His followers are magically capable, morally bankrupt people who are trying to break him out as they speak.

The Rat – A wood elf who ratted out his bandit gangmates. Can’t be trusted, would sell their own brother for half a smoke. Nonetheless, they keep their eyes and ears open and know a lot about what’s happening in the prison.

Randy Shackleford- human, assailed a government agent with sand and authorities now cannot find his name on any records.

The Smuggler – A male gnome. He is the prison supplier who can find almost anything and smuggle it in the prison in exchange for the prison’s currency (smokes, food, etc.)

Daloriz – A blind vampire who overcame his sunlight sensitivity. He has blindsense, and his power is to the point where he can overwhelm most enemies. When spoken to, he is polite and mentions he has seen the future and knows he must wait here for the right time. Why is this vampire in prison? What is he waiting for? Who is coming? Up to the DM to decide.

Takaar ‘Two shields’ Alzurini – small time dwarf mob boss locked up for extortion and racketeering. He has boys on the outside planning to break him out.

Voracious Veronica – A cannibalistic human who is soft spoken. She claims she was a knight who resorted to ‘the worst sin of all’ when her position was under siege for months. Her skin is pale, her eyes are dull, and her gaze sends shivers up your spine. You’re almost certain she’s lying.

Gregor Brutalous – An imposing half-giant with jet black braided hair, dressed in clean formal clothing. He was a psychotic and incredibly powerful warlord, but years after his arrest insists he is trying to atone for his actions. He can easily escape (or so he claims) but refuses to leave as penance.

Marros Tarmikos – A merchant who was caught up in a bar fight with some religious fanatics. He knows a few secrets about the prison and seems to be a law-abiding citizen for the most part.

Gorgeous Gnurl – An orc pit fighter that lost his champion title to *insert NPC* and in a violent rage murders him and his entire team right there in front of the entire crowd.

Mordekai – Leader of a gang of wererats, he used his rats or ‘little friends’ to spy on people, and to blackmail them, or to sell their secrets to the highest buyer.

Torun Sacanti – This ex-palace guard was thrown in prison after he gave his friend a tour of the duke’s apartments. When asked why he is in prison, he will do whatever he can to distract the party from the question.

Tharon Ash – A Tiefling man who was kidnapped for a part in an infernal ritual but was arrested along with the cult when city guards caught them all. He will do anything short of murder to prove his innocence or escape.

Resh – This culinary master in orcish cuisine can barely speak a few sentences in common. Employed in the kitchen, he is known to sometimes get rowdy and confiscate the fingers of anyone who looks at him the wrong way.

Myrca Faro – Quiet and keeps to herself. She seems capable in many skills, decent in a fight, but is distant, mumbling to herself often, though what she’s saying can’t be heard. She was caught with her crew, but one of them testified against her. She doesn’t seem keen on reuniting since she doesn’t know who.

The Painted Claw – A charismatic rakshasa who enjoys gaining followers and leading them into a suicide pact. He is sending souls back to his master in the nine hells and he has been captured for now…

Habstrek the Painter – A former cart driver turned serial killer, she’s not getting out any time soon; she was captured during a time referred to in the local lore as ‘the summer of art’, in which she killed and drained the bodies of over twenty prison guards’ family members, apparently out of revenge for their extrajudicial killing of her apparently innocent husband, Algnir Half-Tusk. She’s fed via a wand charged with Create Food and Drink, as her cell door is welded shut. Guards hate her above almost all other prisoners, knowing she’d gladly turn her targets into further ‘paintings’.

Elgin Powell – charged with a dozen counts of kidnapping, he was a local mob boss’ favorite enforcer – with no bodies ever discovered, the families of his victims were denied even the peace of knowing that they were able to be contacted via necromancy. Reportedly, he kept his charges in a deep mine and they are, one and all, still alive, just shielded from scrying and blood legacy magic. Knows more about kidnappings than anyone local is likely to have ever considered.

Jimmy ‘Lumberjack’ Jackson – Woodcutter turned assassin. He was brutal, honest, and captured by the palace guards when they asked him to start signing his work; reportedly, he’s still working from inside of the prison, except his rates are infinitely more affordable. His signature weapon remains undiscovered – which is a neat trick, considering that it’s a massive war axe.

Anna – Kept in a dark room and bound with magic sigils, Anna is a deeply motivated, highly disturbed wandering killer, captured after a five-year hunt by professional adventurers; her modus operandi was to disguise herself as an orphan human child, infiltrate colonial outposts, and then systematically destroy food, water, and medical supplies, forcing the pioneers into madness, murder, and cannibalism. Rumors say that she’s responsible for the failure of two nation-states’ failure to expand their territories. She’s boasted she’d gladly take one another job, if freed.

Rankle the Bookkeeper – A master of puppeteering and palace intrigue, he went from entertainer to information broker in under a year; his spies consist of handmade puppets, each one capable of recording sights and sounds, he extorted vast amounts of funding from select projects and missions, lining his own pocket freely until he was captured under what many consider unusual circumstances. Some say that he did so to protect himself from the palace paladins and clergy, all of whom are above harming prisoners.

Coins and Pouch – Master forgers and loan sharks, these two brothers are a regular feature in the prison yard, dealing out loans with reasonable interest rates and obtaining rarities for other prisoners; it’s said that on the day they were brought into the prison, they presented a set of keys to a well-appointed cottage to the chief guard as a token of their appreciation. Ever since, they’re under protection and weekly payments continue to provide them with many creature comforts. Every year, on the anniversary of their incarceration, the guard that treats them the best receives a key to another cottage.

Aldac – Former adventurer, expedition guide, reformed arsonist, and now a leader of a prison yard ‘exercise group’, this monk is a dangerous person; some say that she’s building an army, others that it’s a cult, and nobody wants to test her in a straight fight since she crippled her last opponent in under ten seconds. Anything that requires focus and determination, she’s happy to offer her thoughts on, free of charge – provided that she’s shown proper respect first. Her sentence is for a triple life duration – tough luck for her, as her species is a long-lived one.

Thack – A monstrous human, he was a warlord by age fifteen, a respected bandit king at twenty, and captured during his attempt to seize the capital itself, turned over by his own command structure in exchange for lenient sentencing for war crimes. Passionate, charismatic, and mysteriously possessing a keen ear for music, he’s an example of what can happen to a Bard if they decide to turn war itself into a performance art. He’s making money through the writing of strategic, tactical and logistic guidebooks, periodically singing for the lost days of his misspent youth. He turns twenty-three in a month.

Rejoice-Cried-The-Kraken – Still living her best life, RJCTK is a priestess first, bandit second, and a model prisoner third, choosing to ignore her history of piracy and looting in exchange for running a small group of like-minded believers in the church she’s built in her cell; she served as a first officer on the flagship of a vast pirate fleet, choosing who lived and who was sacrificed to her deity, often by slow drowning or something that officials referred to as ‘hook dancing’. She makes a few extra coins giving nautical theme tattoos for fellow prisoners, each one a work of art worthy of a church’s stained-glass windows.

Prisoner #644 – Captured at the frontier, whatever it is, it’s only eaten six times in ten years, each time it was an unwary guard who strayed too close to the sealed cage covered in a thick burlap sheet. It hums at night, an eerie, unsettling event taking place only just before the onset of riots, uprisings, and acts of revenge on a wide scale inside of the prison. Recently, guards have reported that it has started to sing softly. Each of the Dead prisoners killed in the previous ten years are named, one by one, and it chuckled wetly when younger guards approach it.

Kishi the Kid – A 16-year-old changeling who attempted to steal the Crown Jewels. He’s stuck in solitary after using the persona of a guard to start a riot, and is well known for the many he’s started in the few months he’s been here

Cold Turquoise – The former cult leader of a Dragonborn pirate fleet. Will only talk in Draconian, and will give advice on how to operate a ship at a cost…

Henri Schum – Halfling Mafia-don. Used his resources and cutthroat approach to fund a smuggling operation on rare animals for collectors. Has 2 fingers missing on his left hand and has his ‘buddies’ rough up any new people who mention them.

Zarakos – Super beefy winged Tiefling. Brought in for attempting to rob a local bank and fly off with the loot, not accounting for the wizards that can cast Fly. Wings are always tied for obvious reasons. Not very smart, but very loyal. If you free his wings, he will follow you and your group until the end. Will carry and fly anyone that needs it

Kimnuan Shadestalker – Black kitsune assassin. She and her bard troupe would spread rumors about people so others would order hits on them. Specifically in for burning down a village after getting caught by the local authorities. If she can get access to her hands, she can summon a lute and cast spells to become invisible/incorporeal.

Binks Falkhorn- A scribe for 2 generations of very powerful wizards. Has not shown any criminal intent but is ordered to be imprisoned in solitary indefinitely after the wizard went mad and went on a killing spree, showing horrible power. His scribe is the last shred of evidence of the wizard’s work. It would be too dangerous to let the scribe roam free, but it would be foolish to kill him in case his knowledge became useful

Sparkler- A nine-year-old bronze half dragon who just wants to go home to her older brother. She was framed for a crime that she in no way could have committed. She is kept in a dark cell and is the favorite to be abused by the head guard. No knows her actual name because she rarely talks to anyone even when she is allowed.

Xnyxyh Halfheart – Channeling Chronurgy wizard without his spell book. He looks human and is locked up for various crimes. He will help anyone who can get him his spell book. However, if he gets it, he will finish becoming a lich. He does not care for anyone but himself.

Thornbull – an experimental warforged, who committed too many war crimes.

Thragg Jadewolf – half-orc spy. He looks like an ugly human. He is in prison for high treason. He infiltrated border settlements and opened the gates at night, sabotaged the defenses, etc., so the neighboring orc kingdom could conquer the settlements easily.

The masked man – this human wears a cursed mask, which he cannot take off. His crime: He is the elder brother of the current king.

The Wyrd Sisters – Three halfling sisters each identical except for different colored eyes, the Wyrd Sisters are prohibited from accessing the kitchen and mess halls, kept in solitary confinement from each other, and fed separately. This is due to their innate toxicity, their blood, saliva, and sweat producing an extremely toxic poison which when ingested, causes a terrifying and agonizing death in even small doses. They were arrested after their entire village was found rotting the next morning after drinking from the tainted well which they had poisoned. Rumors persist that their natural lethality came from a tradeoff with a powerful Demon.

Semaj Ironscreamer – An elderly Half-Orc Druid who has spent half his life in this cell. He was jailed after being involved in multiple eco-terrorist attacks on mining towns that had been dumping their industrial waste into the nearby rivers. Seen as a kindly grandfather figure by the other inmates and even some of the guards, Semaj is often the peacekeeper between those he can hear from his cell and dispenses wisdom to those who ask. Given the nature of his magic, Semaj is kept in an underground cell with no window and any visitors he receives will be checked for wooden objects and plant matter.

Azar – A former acolyte of the church who used his talents as a thief to steal back religious artifacts from wealthy aristocrats. Until one day he was set up by the Queen dowager to make it look like he was trying to assassinate her with the same knife she had killed her husband with. Is actually completely innocent of this particular crime, but with the weight of the crown bearing down on him his trial was anything but fair.

Vulmon Longroot – A 900-year-old High Elven Bard who was the very first prisoner ever put into this place. His crime? 800 years ago, he had been caught having an affair with all 11 princesses of the area and is actually the reason every member of the royal family has any access to magic.

Tybo the Mad Monk – An incredibly dangerous and violent martial artist who was known to wear the ears of his enemies that he killed in battle like a necklace. After a failed assassination attempt by one of his party members caused Tybo to go mad and kill his party, the Human Monk returned to his roots raiding ships along the coast before he was eventually captured and placed in prison.

Irving – he was just an ordinary peasant… until adventurers showed up in his life and destroyed it. After that he has dedicated his life to destroying them.

Dean Fisher – human. Scum landlord to good upstanding goblins. forgot to bribe a local official.

Greta Howitzer- A human horizon walker ranger who was once a famed demon hunter. But while hunting members of the cult of Baphomet, she lost her mind in Baphomet’s lair. She has the madness ‘The world is my hunting ground. Others are my prey.’ She now views all humanoids as demons and will go to any length to hunt them down. She was imprisoned after spending her money building a massive maze, kidnapping people, and hunting them down in the maze.

Dominic Halfcastle – Halfling, originally in jail for tax evasion, now known for being transferred due to the murder and consumption of multiple sentients, claims the ability to kill sentients with his mind, has displayed no actual psionic or magical power

Vestlev the Mad – War criminal of the highest order, he has been moved to a normal prison as a temporary holding place until a proper area is found. He looks old and disheveled but is a mastermind when it comes to the magical arts of evocation. From his cell can be heard incoherent babbling, but do not be fooled, he has escaped before.

Minkus the Feebleminded – Everyone knows it’s a mistake that he’s in the prison. He’s a real sweetheart if a bit soft in the head. Sometimes his cell glows at night though. Oh, and don’t let him tell you about his nightmares if he says you were in one…

Sir Jim Haggins – A true gentleman at heart, he wears his ragged suit proudly. He’s perfectly polite in every way. He doesn’t look kindly on the poor however, oh no. He detests the poor. So much so that his hunting lodge was full to the brim with human trophies when the authorities finally tracked down ‘the Slum-spree Killer’

Thiggund – This hairy brute is referred to by the only word he heads ever been known to utter. When the villagers of a small farming community found him by the road, surrounded by the brutalized remains of a merchant and his horses, Thiggund was arrested on the spot.

Unburned Barty – A slight man with an unassuming smile. He survived being burned at the stake without a single scar. He was moved into isolation after his cellmates kept killing themselves

Billy Pumpernickel – A gnome who is well known and loved in the prison, but actually committed a horrible crime. Everyone just goes with it, and other than the one horrible unforgivable thing, he’s just a pretty nice dude. Like ‘Hey, there’s Billy. Yeah, he mutilated a few kids, but only once. Nice guy.’ (Edit: This would just be hilarious when the players try to come to terms on how to treat him)

The Time Master – Real name, age, sex, & race unknown. (S)he exists 5 minutes in the future. The cell was locked, and an empty plate appeared with a note. The note had an explanation and instructions. ‘Please place a full plate inside the cell each time an empty plate is discovered. Failure to do so will create a paradox and subsequently release the prisoner.’

Elwe – An elf who walks through the corridors of the prison as if he was someone free, talks to the guards and other prisoners as they were friends. Says he is in prison due to stealing, is actually hiding from the king, who wants to kill him since he killed his father

Ozob – An old looking human with hair only on sides and a fire potion (Molotov) where his nose would be. Always angry. Whenever someone looks wrong at him, he says: you are so annoying I might sneeze.

Walks-Winding-Paths – A tabaxi shadow monk, she is kept in a fully lighted cell at all times, wearing glowing enchanted clothing. She is only fed by guards under a faerie fire spell, as otherwise they would cast a shadow which she could teleport into to escape. She will attempt to convince a party member to give her a cloak, bowl, or other object to block the light with.

Garth the Radiant – A paladin of the fallen angel Zariel. His guards are ordered to hit him every time they see him meditating or praying, as that would let him regain the spells, she grants him and summon his enchanted mace, Purity, to destroy his cell. If the party can bring him his weapon, or even give him ten minutes of peace, he will consider himself honor-bound to grant them a favor upon request. If their aims align with his, he might even fight alongside them.

Nibbles – Literally just a warlock cat.

Iydis Tyger-Eye – Former Guld Leader, she is high level Fighter and also a Were-Tiger. Killed the heads of other Were families, in an attempt to seize power and take control of the protection of the city, and its criminal underworld.

Rollins – Air School Elemental Wizard. Believes in Anarchy and Equality of all races. In jail for starting a revolution and killing the Queen.

Herman – Normal human who built Mythic Bracers of Shatter that are only attuned to him. Had used the Bracers to gain access and rob several small vaults. Then he was caught by an adventurer after going for heist to rob a merchant banker when he refused to harm others to escape with the goods. He refuses to teach/sell the knowledge of how to make the Bracers as he doesn’t want others to use it to harm someone.

Roscoe Tealeaf – A well-dressed halfling who smells of saffron. He brokers deals between prison factions. It’s no secret that he is trying to escape. He claims he was framed by a noble, or maybe arrested breaking into the noble’s vault. He’ll tell anyone who asks that the noble has a dangerous artifact. Roscoe is a lore bard that specializes in counter spell silence and general magic user shutdowns.

John ‘Musical Manipulator’ Green – Half-elf, in jail for making a whole court dance for hours on end to prove a philosophical point that the upper class will just do as they say to hold up appearances and are so comfortable in their wealth, they can watch it be taken away and redistributed.

Colin Green – human. John’s half-brother who supported him and helped with a second set up hands to pull off music. Tuomas Yurke – elf. the voice and magic behind all of this. Started to talk to John about these thoughts and with a few others began to flesh them out into a more concrete thought and into a sound. Loved by the low class, anticipated and loved by the upper class even though it is all a misunderstanding. The three of them are located at different corners and different levels of the prison so the music can’t come together and convince guards to open up cages. Mail comes from them from all over. 2 members of their group are still at large.

Vaelh’noo – Githyanki sorceress who once commanded a powerful fleet in the astral sea before she was captured in a botched raid. Her secret is that she allowed herself to be captured to escape the wrath of the lich queen, whom she plots to overthrow from the safety of her cell.

Quikiliar – A doppleganger (Rogue). Thrown into prison for impersonating a person of high authority, they’re known for frequently making their way into guard chambers by pretending to be one. They can get access to a lot of things if you ask for it, but almost always ask for some odd favor or trinket, usually personal, like a lock of hair or an image of someone loved.

Locke – Once a guard themselves, this warforged fighter was sent to jail after attacking someone due to a misinterpretation of their actions. Unfortunately, this was also another guard with good standing with the warden, who had them put in. They serve their time willingly but can be interrogated or otherwise convinced to disclose explicit info about the prison and its guard shifts and similar.

Breeze – An air genasi artificer, she was thrown into jail after selling several infused items for high prices and then the infusing a different item. Since then, she’s gotten in good favor with guards and other inmates by enchanting some magic items and plans to use these favors and connections to escape at some point.

Zaurok – A Goliath Barbarian, although he acts calm and meditates. Known for the rare outbursts, during which he flies into a rage after being provoked or possibly from being disturbed while meditating. The several escape attempts that’ve happened are from him simply breaking the jail bars. Since then, he’s been relocated to a cell made out of adamantine.

Slicer – Kenku cleric. Devoted to a god of trickery, they gained their name after a particular… Prank, on part of their god. Around the jail will often prank the various inmates but is also known to make distracting sounds at the guards at night. Likely to be able to convince with shiny objects to prank someone or create a distraction.

Color-of-Blood – An insane Tabaxi woman incarcerated for eviscerating several people. Can often be found singing quietly to herself songs usually about ‘meal preparation’. Is usually docile and doesn’t react to being talked to unless threatened which she may attack while loudly singing ’50 ways to skin a human.’

Reginald Mark – A mild mannered human male incarcerated for a chain of serial killings. He claims he’s possessed by a banshee, but no one believes him. His speech has a feminine undertone and his skin is cold to the touch. Those who threaten him are usually found in the morning choked to death with a horrifying look on their face.

Tee’vah – Tiefling rogue who doesn’t seem too upset to be there. If approached he will happily show off a copy of his wanted poster, listing crimes from arson to murder. Secretly a doppelgänger who is honestly just trying to provide for his family and have some fun. Can break out any time he wants.

The Dread Pirate Azuzula, Roger, and Primten – A Tiefling, an earth genasi, and an air genasi. Azuzula seems useless but the other two are competent sorcerers. Despite this they follow her words to the letter. In for piracy. Azuzula can’t spell and keeps ranting about her ship the Doom Squid. Will challenge people to fights.

Taryon Sandstone – A half-elf paladin who used to be a slave fighting in gladiator pits. After gaining his freedom, he vowed to fight for the freedom of other and became a powerful hero. After the tragic loss of a close friend, he went on an overzealous crusade against slavers, killing them and their family as well as anyone who had in any way helped them (ship captains, harbor employees, food/clothes/rope vendors, blacksmith, etc.)

Tilby Valenois – A gnome mage of sorts who has committed zero crimes besides somehow breaking into a maximum-security prison and… staying there? The security guards have tried to get him to leave numerous times but usually get charmed or subdued out of it magically. Nobody knows why the gnome wishes to be there, but he hasn’t been messing with the order of things much.

Adelai – A rather amicable young woman. Nobody knows for sure what she’s in for, but general consensus is that it involved a basilisk head and the water supply to a small town

Vass – A large orc man that was used as a phylactery for a lich. Vass has been hearing whispers of the lich in his mind and is slowly being possessed. He has started doing horrible things under the influence of the lich. Performing Magic’s that he has no right to know.

Endeer – A being that inflicts his victims with horrible nightmares in each of these nightmares a horrifying creature appears to the dreamer and offers them the opportunity to “Loose yourself from the chains of your labored slumber” if the dreamer accepts, they never sleep again as their mind descends in to horrible madness

Cultists of the Basilisk – These cultists are attempting to create the creature they worship a terrible all-knowing basilisk they know that they will be successful and that the basilisk will destroy anyone who knew about him and didn’t help create him so they only share their beliefs with those they deem helpful or worthy of death

Arnold Long – A half orc/elf, he looks like a giant of a human and seems pleasant to be around in a group of people. While it appears, he is a big stupid sweet teddy bear of a person, his record is full of brutal killings that may or may not have happened. The last killings were not too long ago after a prison gang isolated Arnold in the showers and bribed a guard to not interfere. Long story short, the gang WAS major player in the prison, now all of its muscle IS dead, and the guard went missing. Arnold is to be handled with care and kindness.

The ‘Statue of The Maiden’ – It looks like a statue of a naked elven woman that was bought by a merchant (deceased) from an artist (deceased) who sold it to a noble (deceased) for a gift to his wife (deceased) and children (deceased). All that is known is the statue moves when not observed and will eat and clean itself. It leaves flirtatious messages for the guards it likes and death threats to the guards it hates. The artist swore on their deathbed it was a mistake for them to create it but, this is the only place it has been stored where it does not kill thought it has maimed a few people who fail to respect it. Attempts to remove, destroy, or study it has been ‘unfruitful and unwise’.

Inspector Brundt – A beardless dwarf imprisoned for the crimes of tax evasion, swindling, theft, and gross debt. He knows how to get things and bribes the guards to get luxuries and messages through the prison walls.

Tur the Kobold – He seems stupid and harmless. Everyone assumes he’s just a patsy who took the fall for a bigger criminal. Occasionally, though, he lets something slip that only someone high-level in a criminal organization would know.

Axe Hands – A warforged barbarian who found great success as a military shock trooper, but also was involved in an incident where he dismembered a commanding officer. Sees prison as an ‘extended furlough” and is convinced he’ll be let out when the next war starts.

Clara – A human paladin. Recruited into the military, she was driven mad by the trauma of war and turned oathbreaker. Jailed for the same incident as Axe Hands, having used her healing abilities to keep their victim from bleeding out after being dismembered. Lives to see people suffer but remembers enough of her pre-oathbreaker life to maintain a kind, innocent facade when it suits her.

Harald Silverfinger – An elf wizard who sees humans the same way a scientist sees a bucket full of white rats; testing fodder. They’re close enough to elves to be useful for experimentation, but short-lived enough that killing them really isn’t a big deal. It’s rumored that the local guild is secretly helping him continue his work, using his fellow prisoners as test fodder.

Verdos – A dwarven female cleric. Believes she was morally just in murdering the children of a local village. Full of righteous anger. Judges everybody according to her own warped and insane moral code. Can often barely be understood. In maximum security for obvious reasons. Can offer a range of cleric services at prison prices.

Tabitha Binks – A Tabaxi Rogue. An orphan growing up on the coast, she quickly fell in with the Revelry pirates. Tabitha learned to use her claws as lockpicks and may teach other Tabaxi how to as well. She was caught at sea after ambushing a wealthy fur trader.

James the Changeling – A male changeling known for impersonating the guides and has so far escaped every prison he’s been in. He’s a new inmate already planning his escape.

??? – the cell appears empty, save for a stool. Could be they’re just using it for storage. But, then why does that stool make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up?

Ood – A very old, frail and nearly paralyzed Illithid who sits still in solitary confinement, his blind eyes wide open, and only blinks or changes his position once or twice per year. Said to have messed something up when attempting to become an Alhoon. Nobody knows why he’s there, but he occasionally sends nearly unintelligible telepathic riddles to the other prisoners. Rumor has it he has invaded the minds of everyone in the prison and lives vicariously through their dreams at night.