#artor morlin

[mightymizora]

Also on that note my good dudes... do people know about Artor Morlin, the most powerful Vampire in Waterdeep?

He was a big part of my character's story in our 3.5e game and... hoooooo....

Mike Lim did a new concept art for 5e and when I tell you this man is SO FINE-

[oogalaboogalabich]

More Bloodweave comic outline. Links to 1 & 2 below.

Part 3: Orb Boy starts learnin' The Angry on how to vampire better

The first battle against the goblins commences not long after they pick up two females. A gith and a half elf. Both seem very fun and very angry at each other.

They do surprisingly well, though astarion gets fairly badly hurt.

He watches while gale and this blade of frontiers fellow and how well they work off the others fighting style. Same with the religeous and military types that have been bickering the whole fight despite the fact that they practically danced together. its actually quite fascinating to see in action, despite the frustration of being basically ignored while hes bleeding out.

He fails to dodge when The Blade lobbs something at him. He readies a nasty lityle retort about how whatever he tried to do didnt manage to kill him... when he realized hed been healed. Almost entirely.

The....the bloody -hero- just ...-helped- him.

What a fucking idiot.

---

Astarion hangs back when everyone heads to camp to fuck with the blacksmith, who seems actually very nice. Its a bit off putting in a way that a quick cuppa with Auntie Ethel cures with ease, and decides to actually pay her that visit sometime.

Astarion returns from the grove with some things he plans to squirrel away. He would deny it if asked, but he directly avoided stealing anything from the hellspawn. Not out of pity of course. Definitely not. The druids were massive pricks anyways.

He finds gale resting atop the boulder pile in the center of camp, splayed out shirtless and laying in the sun.

Fuck thats right. Hed been so worried about everything, he hasnt even taken the time to enjoy the fucking sun.

Gale hears him approaching, twists to one side and utterly beams down at him. Hes cleaned up really well.

The sun, astarion notices, shines almost red through his hair.

"Youre back! Excelent!" He lifts himself into a one handed flip off the rock with the practiced ease and casual nature of a man who has no idea hes showing off and lands a few feet from him. He looks a little toasted, but it makes him look all the more lovely- LIVELY. Lively is what he was thinking.

Tch... bloody prick with his crazy acrobatics and dumb fuck beard.

and his stupid perfectly waxed moustache, and rediculous tattoos down one side of his torso and...straight past the beltline of his breeches...

His mouth felt so dry all of a sudden.

"Must say i havent had such an easy time getting warm in quite a while. The rock behind your tent is the nicest but i dont much think youd appreciate me looming about your tent, aye?"

(should gale say "aye" in this au? Should look into waterdavian/dnd pirate slang if thats even an elaborated thing. I like it. I need an excuse)

Astarion and he talk about how it felt stepping into the sun for the first time in forever.

Astarion had woken up in the pod and promtly begun panicking until he realized there were holes in the transparent chitain, and the sunlight was beaming through. He lifted a hand to it and felt such a rush that hed managed to break himself out and spent some time just ....being excited about something. Anything at all.

Gale finds he rather likes that mental image. This surly little wildcat grinning up at the sun and raising both hands up while he laughs for the wonder of it.

Perhaps then falling back and flipping off the very sky...it seems like something he might do.

Gale simply woke up on the beach and lay there a while to process and plan, nothing too interesting.

So Gale mentions that sometimes, back home, he would stay up late certain mornings to watch Artor step out into the Sun.

Its a morning ritual to keep himself sharp and humble. He would stare out until the sun peaked over the horizon, cast a sphere of invulnerability and watch from the safety of it.

(Note: this doesnt actually work in canon, but gale either wouldnt know that or would have been forced to forget whenever he relearns that fact. Plot thickening joose)

"He wont admit it but im almost entirely sure he used to collect his own ashes, before he learned the spell. that was a long time past, though, far before either of us were a glint in our mothers eye."

"Collected them? What for?"

"He probably wanted to see if it was useful in some way. Mummy dust can be a Powerful addative to healing salves and potions of disguise."

He holds up a finger.

"Though never vice versa, mind.- Stands to reason vampire ashes might be valuable. He still has a small warehouse full of the stuff.

"Round oh id say ..nearly seven maybe eight thousand clay urns, in all. he tells everyone they were a group of spawn hed collected in his earliest centuries.

"But Im fairly certain he says that to keep us on our toes. I cant imagine how he would have managed such a massive hoard. I have fourty someodd siblings, and most of them are a bloody handfull."

"Seven thousand!?"

"The man is over a millenium old, astarion. Thats a lot of sunrises."

---

Things branch off to where Astarion says he cant turn into mist or summon wolves because hes a spawn, and he feels a little cheated that spawn have no substantial powers or abilities aside from basic teleportation. And even thats gone with the tadpole.

This distresses gale on his behalf.

"I...astarion i think cazador has been keeping you far more ignorant than you are aware of. Vampire spawn have a veritable littany of skills and abilities to hone on, it just takes time and practice like any other."

"What do you mean?" And gale vanishes in a puff of smoke turning into mist and back with his arms out in a gesture of "see?"

"What in the hells?"

"I cant summon wolves per se. But with ...well proper feeding, theres a great deal we can do. We arent helpless. Were just

"Slaves"

"I would more readdily compare us to marrionettes. Poppets, worker drones and the like. but yes. Essentially."

"Well.." astarion huffs, " what can we do?"

Gales smile grows boyish and enthusiastic, and he grabs astarions hand- pulls him towards the water. " Do you see that cave over yonder, just past the canoe?"

"I see it." Astsrion yanks his hand free with a disgusted little sneer.

"Alright. I want you to picture yourself in total darkness. The furthest reaches of the light are several turns out, and none can reach you.

"This had better be going somewhere."

"Just do it, trust me."

"....Very well."

"Alright now...connect to that darkness. Feel where your body ends and the shadows begin. Feel their coils reach out and embrace your limbs, your lungs, your mind." He presses a palm near the center of his back "draw them in with your breath. anchor yourself with them until you sink deep....deep into the dark...."

He feels those shoulders relax just a little.

"Now...tell me ...whats inside that cave, astarion?"

"....how should i kn-....oh...."

Hes suddenly there, as if one foot of his essence has stepped from where his body stood into the dank cavern.

"theres. Hmmm well theres an astonishing lack of dirt...it smells ...gods just -awful-...but its soft....and...warm." he gets an almost whistful quality to his voice.

"so wonderfully warm..." he draws another breath, as if he could consume that warmth. he hears a chittering at his ear, and suddenly realizes.

"Bats....there must be dozens of them." Gale is surprised by how bright that smile is. It warms him to see.

"now...call them."

"How do i do that?"

"I cant tell you that, you have to figure it out."

There was a physical whomph of sensation within him as his own irritation broke his focus.

"Tch well thats not very generous of you."

"I cant teach you to walk astarion, i can only offer you my hand."

Astarions pout deepens and he opens his mouth to speak, but gale continues.

"If you still need help in say...give it three days. Why mess with a cliche? If you havent summoned those bats by then-

"What makes you think we will still be here in three days?"

Gale thinks of all the goblins they've fpund dead around here. The goblins theyve killed. there will be way more further out. Way more than they could realistically fell in a few days.

"Just a hunch."

[hmdeath]

The last two chapters have had @bludazey feeling some type of way about a certain vampire lord and it has me cackling nonstop

incredible meme courtesy of @theweepingdawn - thank you for this, my love language is memes

[starbvund]

"So tell me. What's an interloper doing in my lair?" Artor had little patience for people who asked for him directly. Even less for someone who didn't ask for an appointment.

[drizzit]

YOU COULD HAVE IT AAAAAAALLL THIS CITY WOULD BOW BENEATH YOUR FEET WALK LIKE A WOLF AMONGST THE SHEEP AND EACH NIGHT YOU SHALL DINE YOU COULD HAVE IT ALL DONT BE ANOTHER CASUALTY YOU CAN JOIN OUR FAMILY IMMORTAL DONT YOU WHAT SOME OF THIS OLD MONEY DONT YOU WISH YOU COULD BE SOMEBODY YOU COULD STAY FOREVER YOUNG AND LOVELY DRINK FORBIDDEN WINE YOU COULD HAVE IT ALL FORBIDDEN FRUIT THAT YOU CAN BITE FOLLOW TEMPTATION LIKE THE TIDE WHY WALK WHEN YOU CAN FLY YOU COULD HAVE IT ALL JOIN US AND RISE ABOVE THE REST IT ONLY TAKES ONE KISS ON THE NECK IMMORTAL DONT YOU WANT SOME OF THIS OLD MONEY DONT YOU WISH THAT YOU COULD BE SOMEBODY YOU CAN STAY FOREVER YOUNG AND LOVELY DRINK FORBIDDEN WINE DONT YOU WANT SOME OF THIS OLD MONEY DONT YOU WANT SOME OF THIS OLD MONEY DONT YOU WISH YOU COULD BE SOMEBODY YOU COULD STAY FOREVER YOUNG AND LOVELY DRINK FORBIDDEN DRINK FORBIDDEN WIIIIIINE

[bellasmumblingsandmusings]

Act II Begins: The World of Vampires in What Could Have Been

Hello my lovelies! I have a special Musings this Thursday night, and I am hoping you will enjoy it! Basically I have spent the last year (gods has it be that long already?!) working on this story. As we enter Act II of the tale, we see that we have Sima beginning to be more and more intrigued by the world of vampires in Faerun and the power she could wield. This Musings article goes into how my world differs from that of established lore and gives a few ideas on what's to come. This is your SPOILER WARNING for the future chapters and themes behind the fic! Scroll at your own risk

-Bella After the jump!

Crafting the Shadows: Building a Vampire Society in Faerûn

When it comes to writing vampire society in the vast and storied world of Faerûn, there’s a rich tapestry of lore and traditions to draw from, particularly within Dungeons & Dragons. Sources like Van Richten’s Guide to Vampires and Curse of Strahd provide foundational insights into how vampires operate, thrive, and vie for power. However, my goal wasn’t just to replicate what already exists but to expand on it, subvert some of the established norms, and create a society that feels both authentic to D&D and uniquely my own.

Inspirations from the Lore: Setting the Stage

In classic D&D settings, vampire lords are often depicted as solitary figures of immense power, ruling over their domains with an iron grip. They are figures of terror and cunning, maintaining control through a mix of fear, manipulation, and brute force. The male dominance in these hierarchies is almost ubiquitous, with figures like Strahd von Zarovich embodying the archetype of the patriarchal vampire lord whose rule is unquestioned and whose methods are ruthless.

This traditional setup typically involves vampire lords with extensive networks of spawn, thralls, and lesser undead who enforce their will. Power dynamics are strict, with the vampire lord at the top and their subordinates expected to obey without question. In Faerûn, the presence of figures like Artor Morlin, the vampire lord of Waterdeep, underscores this model. Morlin, in his pursuit of curing vampiric weaknesses, embodies the archetypal vampire who seeks not just to dominate but to transcend the limitations of his kind—reflecting a broader desire for ultimate control and perfection within undead hierarchies.

Expanding the Lore: A New Vision for Vampire Society

While these traditional elements set a strong foundation, I was interested in exploring how a vampire society might evolve beyond these rigid structures. My vision for Faerûn’s vampires expands on the established lore by introducing more fluid and dynamic power relationships, where alliances and rivalries aren’t solely dictated by fear and domination but also by more nuanced and personal motivations.

Astarion’s Ascension: Disrupting the Status Quo

A key element of my world-building revolves around Astarion, an Ascendant Vampire Lord whose rise disrupts the traditional vampire hierarchy. In most D&D lore, ascension amongst vampires involves brutal rituals, rigid inheritance, or sheer might. Astarion’s ascent, marked by his unprecedented ability to walk in daylight, symbolizes a break from the old ways—where power was both coveted and feared, but also constrained by the inherent weaknesses of vampirism. This departure creates a ripple effect in Faerûn’s vampiric society, challenging other lords who now see Astarion as both a rival and a key to potential power.

In this reimagined society, Astarion doesn’t just seize control of Baldur’s Gate through sheer force; he blends subterfuge, alliances with the nobility, and a dual life as a socialite to maintain his grip on power. His control extends beyond the shadows, infiltrating the upper echelons of society and creating a network that mirrors the interconnected nature of Faerûn’s complex political landscape. This approach not only makes Astarion a formidable power but also showcases how vampires can adapt and thrive in a world that is evolving around them.

Subverting Tropes: Reimagining Female Vampires, Consorts, and True Vampirism

A critical aspect of my world-building involves redefining the roles of female vampires, consorts, and exploring the nature of true vampirism. In traditional lore, female vampires are often relegated to roles such as brides or consorts, which typically place them in subservient positions to male vampire lords. This portrayal extends to characters like Strahd’s brides in Curse of Strahd, who are often depicted as extensions of his will, lacking autonomy and serving primarily to enhance his narrative of control and tragic desire.

Breaking the Mold for Female Vampires: Upon researching D&D’s established vampire lore, it became clear that prominent female vampire lords are extremely rare. Besides the occasional mention, such as a vampire in an older Moonshae Isles adventure, there are few, if any, central female figures in the lore who wield power on par with the most iconic male vampire lords. This absence presents an opportunity to reimagine what a female vampire lord could be, challenging the entrenched patriarchal structures that dominate vampiric society.

In my narrative, true vampire brides are not merely subordinates but can wield powers comparable to those of vampire lords, including the ability to create their own spawn and establish independent power bases. This approach empowers female vampires, granting them the same autonomy and agency traditionally reserved for their male counterparts. It also reflects a broader ethos within my world-building: that power should not be confined by gender, and that vampire society can be more fluid and egalitarian.

Inclusivity of Gay, Non-Binary, and Male Consorts: Expanding beyond traditional gender roles, my world includes a broader spectrum of identities among vampire consorts and lords. In my vision, consorts can be of any gender, and power dynamics are not strictly tied to traditional male-female pairings. This inclusive approach allows for a richer and more diverse exploration of relationships within vampire society, reflecting the complexities and variations of identity that exist in the real world. By opening up these roles, the narrative breaks free from the constraints of the established lore, creating a more inclusive and modern interpretation of what vampire relationships can be.

Amplification of Core Traits: A unique element of my interpretation of vampirism is the amplification of one’s primary nature upon becoming a true vampire. In Astarion’s case, his ambition, dominance, obsessive love and desire for freedom are heightened, leading to his distinctive approach to rulership and power. This concept allows each vampire’s transformation to reflect their intrinsic qualities, creating a diverse and multifaceted society where no two vampires are exactly alike. This aspect not only deepens character development but also reinforces the idea that vampirism is a deeply personal change, amplifying one’s core essence to an extreme.

Astarion’s Unique Nature as a Spawn and Beyond: Astarion's time as a spawn was also distinct; unlike many spawn who become mindless extensions of their masters, Astarion retained significant aspects of his personality and humanity. This set him apart even before his ascension, suggesting that his nature as a vampire was always somewhat exceptional. This unique trait raises interesting possibilities for those he turns, potentially leading to further exploration of how his approach to creating new vampires differs from the norm. The implications of his influence extend beyond power; they reach into the very nature of identity and self-determination within the vampiric condition.

Tension and Upheaval: A Society in Flux:

The introduction of vampires who break the mold—whether through unprecedented powers like day walking or by rejecting the traditional roles assigned to them—creates tension not only among the undead but also with mortal societies. Astarion’s ability to blend into daylight and manipulate societal norms creates fear and uncertainty among the established vampire lords, who see their own vulnerabilities laid bare. They approach Astarion not just with suspicion but with a desperate curiosity, attempting to unravel the secret of his ascension while grappling with the implications of his power.

This upheaval isn’t just limited to the undead; mortal society reacts too. The Council of Four, for instance, are wary of Astarion’s growing influence and the potential shift in the balance of power. As Astarion and his allies push for more autonomy and control, mortal institutions respond with resistance, highlighting the fragile nature of the alliances that keep the peace between the living and the undead.

Building a New Vampire Ethos: Beyond Fear and Control

Ultimately, the world-building in my trilogy aims to craft a vampiric society that transcends the usual narratives of fear and brute control. Vampires in Faerûn, under Astarion’s emerging influence, are not just static beings locked in eternal power struggles—they are dynamic, capable of change, and reflective of the complexities of identity, ambition, and legacy. By embracing a broader and more inclusive vision of what it means to be a vampire lord, the story expands the traditional D&D lore, offering a glimpse into a society where power is not just held but shared, and where the old rules are rewritten to accommodate a new order.

In this evolving landscape, the undead of Faerûn are more than just predators—they are rulers, guardians, and perhaps most compellingly, beings striving for a legacy that outlasts even the immortality they’ve been cursed or blessed with. It’s a world where the lines between monster and monarch blur, and where the true challenge lies not just in seizing power but in redefining what that power means.

[selunesdreams]

Chapter 24: Spawn

“Are you under the misapprehension that Cazador made a mistake?” Astarion sneers, “It was no mistake that the one he deemed most unworthy slew him in his own home.”

Chapter from ongoing fic Forms of Imprisonment. Full chapter/story on AO3.

Pairing: Spawn Astarion (post-tadpole) x OFC

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: 18+, blood, coerced substance abuse (if you squint), abuse/torture, trauma, vampire/spawn politics, criminally small amount of fluff this chapter (more next!) preexisting relationship, part of a series

-

Celeste lies on her side, emitting a soft groan as Astarion sidles up behind her, pressing his lips against the nape of her neck. As his knuckle drifts down the length of her waist, she shivers.

“You should rest, darling.” He purrs in her ear.

“You’re making it difficult,” she murmurs, surrendering to the sensation and closing her eyes.

He traces a path past her collarbone, looping underneath the pendant at the base of her throat, letting the necklace’s chain snake between his fingers, its golden hue glinting in the soft moonlight that filters through the window.

“Curious little thing,” he muses as he turns the moonstone over between his thumb and forefinger.

Celeste rolls over to face him. “Are you planning on stealing it?” she teases.

Astarion laughs through his nose. “Not a chance. I quite enjoy watching you incinerate our enemies,” he replies before lowering his eyes at the distant look his words elicit from her. He combs his fingers through her hair to distract her, mumbling an apology that she accepts with a contented sigh.

Unbeknownst to Celeste, he has no intention of trancing tonight or staying in bed with her as he eases her to sleep. Though she had implied she would accompany him to meet Artor tomorrow, he cannot bear the thought of her walking into that place again.

As her breathing gradually slows, her hair spilling across her face under the dim light, he takes one last look at her. A pang of longing tugs at his chest, and he carefully rises from the bed. In her sleep, Celeste whines softly, her hand extending over the mattress as if searching for his presence. He presses a gentle kiss against the back of it before quietly dressing and slipping out of the room.

He leaves the tavern, the scent of stale ale lingering in the air, past the tired barkeep, wiping down sticky counters after the evening’s patrons. The first hints of sunrise paint the sky, but if he makes good time, he can avoid daylight and navigate the sewers back once it’s light. Astarion walks at a steady pace to hide the urgency of his steps, moving like a shadow, his boots making no sound as he passes through the streets. He knows it won’t take long to reach Cazador’s old palace, but he hates being out in the open after recent events.

His mind drifts to thoughts of Celeste, her body against his, how they’d moved in the dark together, trying to distract himself from the thought of how he’d left her alone, and how she’ll feel when she wakes in an empty bed.

As he reaches the imposing gates, he cautiously scans the surroundings, the eerie silence broken only by the faint rustling of leaves. The decaying structure hints at the presence of lurking ghouls and other vile creatures. The last thing he needs is to be caught off guard.

Suddenly, a dull yet proper voice startles him from behind. He turns to find a compelled servant, their lifeless eyes fixed on him.

“Master Morlin will see you inside.”

With a nod, Astarion enters, a shiver running down his spine as he recalls the last time he crossed this threshold. The servant leads him through the palace’s corridors, each step echoing in the empty halls.

“Do you have a name?” Astarion asks, disinterested, but trying to cut through the silence.

“Master Morlin does not have use for sentimentality.”

“Typical.” He says under his breath.

They arrive at Cazador’s old office - a place Astarion was never welcome before, and he steps inside, assessing the vampire lord seated behind his former master’s desk. The dim lighting casts long shadows across the room, adding to Astarion’s unease.

“Astarion, you’re earlier than expected,” Artor’s voice breaks the silence, laced with intrigue.

“I heard my presence was requested,” Astarion says, devoid of emotion, his gestures exaggerated. “Here I am.” The palace brings back memories he would rather not revisit, and he does not waste time on pleasantries.

“Sit.” Artor commands as he gestures towards a chair across from him. Astarion obeys, crossing his legs and keeping his expression neutral. He knows what he wants, but he’s in no position to dictate terms.

“We’ll discuss killing Keresta in a moment,” Artor begins, his gaze piercing. “But first, I want to hear how you killed Cazador Szarr.

Astarion raises an eyebrow. “That’s your concern?” He lets a mocking grin pull at the edges of his mouth.

“It’s not every day a vampire lord is slain, let alone by one of his thralls.”

“You think it can’t happen again?” Astarion’s tone remains calm and even, amusement dancing in his eyes as the power shifts slightly away from Artor’s favor.

“I like to learn from others’ mistakes.” Artor flashes a dangerous smile.

“Are you under the misapprehension that Cazador made a mistake?” Astarion sneers, “It was no mistake that the one he deemed most unworthy slew him in his own home.”

Artor’s chair creaks as he shifts his weight. “Cazador was strong,” he finally says, “there’s no shame in admitting you were fortunate.”

“Cazador was arrogant,” Astarion counters, his words dripping with contempt. “He was so sure he would never be betrayed that he didn’t suspect a traitor in his own halls.”

“But you had a stroke of luck, didn’t you? The tadpole freed you,” Artor remarks.

Astarion’s response is filled with a mix of resignation and defiance. “Temporarily,” he admits, “It broke his hold over me long enough for me to resist. Long enough for me to kill him.”

“And yet, you rejected ascension. You could have become the most powerful vampire in Faerûn.” Artor’s voice carries a hint of fascination.

Astarion scoffs. “I had no desire to be like him. He thought his power made him invincible, but he was just as much his own prisoner as he thought I was.”

“Poetic.” Artor responds dryly. He rises from his desk, the creak of the chair accompanying his movements.

“A foolish decision,” he continues as he paces with his hands behind his back, “But I suppose I have little to fear from a spawn who would turn down the opportunity to take power for himself.” His words hang in the air, heavy with a sense of superiority. “So I’ll allow a temporary alliance to form between the two of us.”

“Very gracious of you,” Astarion grumbles, “and what do you require in return for this alliance?”

“A couple of things. But first,” Artor opens a box on his desk, the hinges squeaking softly, and produces a small gold ring. The metal glimmers in the light, casting a soft glow in the dim room. “I believe you wanted this? Consider it a gesture of good faith.” With a casual flick of his wrist, he tosses the ring to the rogue, who deftly catches it between two fingers, eyeing the ring a moment before slipping it into his pocket.

Skepticism lingers in Astarion’s features as he asks, “What’s the catch?”

“There’s no catch. That ring is no more than a child’s plaything. Not sure what you want with it.”

“You mean besides it allowing me to walk in the sun?” Astarion asks, raising an eyebrow.

Artor lets out a bark of laughter. “You were fooled then too, boy. The books are misleading.”

Confusion taints Astarion’s tone as he demands, “Then what is this?”

Artor’s response is matter-of-fact. “It allows you to see in the dark. Not walk in the sun. It illuminates, but does not protect. Perhaps it could serve as a thief’s tool, but I’m doubtful you’d need such an aid to begin with.”

Astarion feels hollow. The ring might as well have crumbled into ash in his hands, the same way he would under the sun. He’s been played, and the worst part is that deep down, he kind of knew it.

Regaining his composure, Astarion speaks again. “So this alliance then, what do you want from me?”

“To kill Keresta,” Artor responds, his voice carrying a hint of intensity.

“That was my plan, anyway.”

“Yes, but I want you to be successful. I have some information for you.”

Astarion’s wariness grows, his senses on high alert. “What kind of information?”

“She’s following Celeste for several reasons,” Artor sits back down, “But one, as I’m sure you’ve deduced, is that she wants that moonstone you took from Sorcerer’s Sundries.”

Astarion’s eyes widen, his mind racing with the implications. “How do you know about that?”

“I have people everywhere,” Artor states confidently. “Do you even know what the stone does?”

Astarion shakes his head, a mix of curiosity and embarrassment washing over him.

“It’s called the Tear of Selûne. It enhances the power of all magic in its vicinity. Shar has sought it out for centuries in an attempt to gain an advantage over her sister. And your lover now has it in her possession. She even wears a piece of it around her neck - I could feel it when she was here earlier.”

Astarion sits in silence, digesting the information. It would make sense that Keresta would be after something so powerful. Memories of Celeste and the charm around her neck flood his thoughts, the object he had idly played with just an hour ago.

“This information is in exchange for what, exactly?” Astarion asks.

“We cannot allow Keresta to wield such power. That Sharran brat will not challenge me. If you eliminate her, I will assist you in becoming a true vampire. It may not be ascension, but you will be more than a wretched spawn.”

Astarion leans back in the chair, weighing his options. He hates being beholden to anyone, relying on them for power or otherwise. But becoming a proper vampire would remove vulnerabilities…

No. There’s always a catch.

“I’m not interested.” He firmly declares.

“It matters little to me,” Artor says, inspecting the back of his hand. “Nevertheless, before you depart, I will require something of you.” Artor snaps towards the door and a servant hurries in with a chalice of blood.

Astarion catches the scent before he sees the source, freezing in recognition. It is the same scent that lingered in the blood of Keresta’s thrall when they first met.

He stares at the chalice. “You want me to drink bloodroot? To prove what?”

“I keep a substantial supply on hand. It leads my enemies to believe I am addicted, too consumed to pose a threat. I don’t need you to prove anything, spawn. I simply wish to witness the true nature of your blood rage,” Artor explains.

“Absolutely not.” Astarion says.

“You misunderstand...if you refuse me, you will not leave this place alive.”

Astarion scowls. Artor wants to see his fury? Fine. So be it.

Without uttering another word, he raises the chalice to his lips and takes a measured sip.

The taste of Celeste’s blood had been remarkable, but this, this is different. This was an ecstasy like he’d never known. He drinks voraciously, feeling the burning sensation of the bloodroot as it slides down his throat, heavy on his tongue. He gulps the blood down and slams the chalice on the desk, seething.

“You must have been obedient for Master Cazador. What’s the phrase? Old habits die hard?” Artor mocks.

“Yes, yes, I was, damn it all,” Astarion growls, pressing against the desk, struggling to maintain control. He feels himself slipping away, his thoughts clouded by the drug.

“It’s alright to admit that you’re enjoying it,” Artor taunts, his smile widening. “It’s in your nature to do so.”

“Shut up!” Astarion snarls. “Don’t think I’m going to become some faithful thrall of yours.”

“I have no interest in that. But it will show me how vicious you can be.”

Artor snaps his fingers again and two sets of hands seize Astarion and pull him backwards out of his chair. Artor watches with a smug grin.

“Let go of me!” Astarion struggles against the other spawn, cursing and threatening them. He feels the bloodroot reducing him to nothing more than his base urges, guided by a few shreds of his consciousness. And the sight of Artor smiling sends him into a murderous rage.

He’s dragged down the hallway to a familiar door, a room full of chains and tools of torment.

Where Godey would flay him for days.

Where he spent a year in darkness.

Where Cazador carved those scars into his back…

Chains snap around his wrists, old familiar foes, and he thrashes against them. Shoes click against the stone floor as Artor appears in the doorway.

“Now what makes you so special…” Artor muses before he slices a line across Astarion’s sternum with a sharp fingernail. Blood trickles down his stomach, pooling underneath his shirt, and Astarion winces.

“It’s time you learn your place, spawn. You need to be humbled. Let the bloodroot in, let it teach you that you’re nothing more than an animal.”

“How long do you plan to keep me down here?” Astarion growls.

“It will wear off in a few hours,” Artor says, disinterested. “Make yourself…comfortable.” The door slams as the spawn exit behind him, leaving Astarion in darkness.

Alone.

Astarion snarls and slams himself against the chains, screaming at the world and himself in equal measure.

Time passes, he doesn’t know how much. Eventually, he slumps against the wall, his mind in turmoil and his body aching in a thousand different ways. His throat strings from thirst and screaming himself hoarse.

“Astarion!”

Celeste’s voice snaps him from the verge of unconsciousness as she slams open the dungeon door and rushes to him.

“What are you doing here?” He croaks, “Celeste, he’ll fucking kill you.”

“Gale and the others have him occupied. Come on.” She struggles with his restraints.

“I’m too weak to run, I’ll find you later…” he rasps. She looks him over, assessing his condition.

“You need blood. Here.” She offers him her wrist, holding herself against the lower half of his hanging body. Astarion hesitantly brings his mouth to her skin, holding her gaze, before biting down.

The bloodroot in his veins roars and he gulps down mouthful after mouthful. Celeste begins to turn white, the life draining from her face.

“Astarion, wait, you’re killing me…” she says weakly, but he can’t stop, he just watches her die.

All because of him. All because he can’t stop…

Until she just…vanishes.

The room comes back to him like a watercolor painting, his head pounding and body howling for blood, more intensely than ever before. Those familiar footsteps, that godsdamned familiar tapping, echo through the hall before the lock clicks and the door swings open, metal whining against its hinges.

“Hallucinating?” Artor asks as he saunters in. “I could hear you screaming from my office.” His tone is one of derision and disgust, the kind Cazador would reserve for slaves. Astarion growls and lunges against his restraints once more.

“Did Celeste tell you I was different from Cazador? That my intentions were pure? That I was on your side?” Artor’s stare is cold and calculating as he assesses Astarion like a cruel experiment. “We are allied because I need something from you. Remember that, boy. Don’t get in my way once it’s finished.”

“I know...what you are,” Astarion hisses, his voice laced with defiance. The taste of blood fills his mouth, the acrid taste of bitterness lingering on his tongue, and he spits, staining the floor at Artor’s feet. “Do you have information for me about Keresta, or should I just run from here and hunt her blindly?”

Artor’s laughter fills the room, a cruel sound that reverberates against the walls.

“Straight to the point. I like that about you.” Artor takes a step closer. “Keresta went back to Waterdeep. She’s planning an attack on one of Lathander’s temples before she launches another on the Temple of the Moon in a fortnight. That should give you time.”

Astarion’s eyes narrow. “You should run while I handle Keresta. Once she’s dead, I’m coming to tear your head from your shoulders.”

Artor smirks. “I’d love to see you try.” He seizes Astarion by the throat, speaking through gritted teeth. “This may have been your home once, but you’ll never walk through those doors again and live to tell the tale. Get out of my sight.” Artor thrusts Astarion’s head back and waves his hand dismissively, a sharp gesture that commands the entrance of the servants.

“Gladly,” Astarion looks Artor square in the face with bloodstained teeth. “This was never a home to me.”

The servants unchain him, cold metal biting into his skin as he falls to the floor. His body trembles with the effort to stand.

Astarion stumbles past Artor, down the dimly lit hall, anger coursing through his veins, fueling his every step. He barely makes it out the gates before careening into the side of a nearby building, dizzy and exhausted.

“Godsdamnit.” he mutters to himself.

Rough brick scratches against his palms as he slides to the ground, and then everything goes black.

-

a/n: thanks for reading! Please like/reblog/kudos/follow/interact on AO3/whatever if you did? It helps so much!

Full story on AO3

[apalestar]

More vampire related headcanons.

Each vampire lord rules over a territory that they hold. They are territorial in order to keep the peace. It's a unspoken agreement between them stemming back eons to some of the first night walkers. While wars for turf are not unheard of, they are strongly discouraged. The gains often don't outweigh the loses.

Clerics and holy orders tend to notice a vast array of undead going to town on one another. It attracts unwanted attention. As such wars are often conducted by proxy. The Lord of Waterdeep, Artor Morlin, for instance manipulates the local church of Lathandar into murdering any potential rivals in Waterdeep.

For vampire society, the cities are the most prized, but the most perilous. The countryside is safer, but offers less prey for the coven.

Since Cazad*r's demise, Astari*n has taken over the role of territory holder in Baldur's Gate. Only out of the necessity to ensure no other tyrant enters his home.

A few like Strahd and some of the most ancient have instead fled to places like Avernus, Underdark, or the Shadowfell where the sun can't be held over them as a threat.

[tatter-demalion]

Another little composition study featuring Talwiira and Artor Morlin! Turns out being a lv. 10 archfey warlock makes you great at handling vampires.

[mightymizora]

My most Iconique D&D character was a sorcerer called Lyra, who was the common-law wife of Krigor Gost in Waterdeep, a wizard who sought lichdom and was in service to Artor Morlin. He used her innate power as a source for his work...

And my most recent character was the adopted daughter of a great yuan-ti lich book trader in Derlusk.

and I'm jsut saying if you gave me even a CHANCE with Lich Gale I would make ALL the same mistakes again.

[oogalaboogalabich]

Vampire spawn Gale AU concept. Thinkin of making a comic.

Outline 1: Artor Morlin of Waterdeep gets his claws into local Orb Boy.

Gale does The Stupid at a more believable age. Like his late teens. He gets orbed way earlier as a result. He responds with impulsivity and recklessness rather than isolation and it gets him noticed by the local vampire lord.

Gale got caught up with Artor Morlin, who took an interest in his orb, and turned him into a personal experiment to see if undeath would do anything to allow him to harness it vicariously through gale.

He was subjected to several years of only semi non-consentual torture, of being trained into a proper fighter since his magic aggravated the orb and made it harder to contain and feed.

Turns out martial arts does well for calming and lestening the demands of the netherise magic. And he ends up as deft with his hands as he is with his tongue.

Hes best with the bo staff, like in canon. But almost exclusively fights melee. Avoiding magic unless its super nessesary. hes fallen a touch out of practice but his natural propensity is still there, boostin him up like late stage capitalist nepotism.

But as it turns out artor knows a ticking time bomb when he sees one. he cant kill gale without going to some complex and extreme measures to minimize damage.

He cant allow the lad to remain in the city. And he cant exactly have a rogue spawn running about with his name attached to it. And he doesnt allow other full vampires to exist in his city outside of an invitation for a BRIEF visit. His nearly 7 centuries of reasonably successful business accumen was a testament to the necessity of that last rule. What other vampire on the sword coast could claim even half his age?

There was really only one option.

at least the only option that wouldnt make him sad for a while. In the "my pet died" way. and fortunately it left him without any monetary cost worth mentioning.

"Youre...freeing me?"

"No. I am ensuring the survival of my city."

"Truss it up as much as you please master, i could not possibly express better gratitude for your generocity.

"Yes well...youve been a good sport about it all i suppose. You're expensive but," he shuffles a ship across his map a few feet and tips over another. He doesnt remove the downed ship from the board. It was still afloat, out there. Waiting to be pilfered. "You dont cause trouble. More than i can say for the other brats."

(Something something filler filler. Snippy gale comment)

"Careful now, Dekarios. I can still banish you short a limb."

(Filler filler-gale rambles about being glad he got to learn so much under his tutilage. Implies a physical relationship that was eh then he goes entirely off subject about fish or sirens or something entirely off topic. Autism gale autisms at morlin)

Artor blinks and shakes his head, holding up a hand to silence him

"Gods Enough" he didnt look too upset however "i shant miss your gulls screeching, dekarios."

"You understand that when you wake, you are to leave my city. Should you return without my express leave, i will do what my advisors suggested. I will drag you out to sea, sink you with your jaw cracked open, and let the waters eat you from the inside out"

"I understand master."

"Very well. Lets get this over with. Kneel-"

A tentacle bursts through the wall and dekarios vanished. Its over in seconds.

Artor stares at the desolation of his office and pinches his brow as a stray tile falls from celing to floor.

"What are the chances this will all work itself out if i just..." he makes a sweeping/ pushing gesture with his hands.

[rubistella]

" so like. do you want to drink my blood or something? "

@strvhd || unprompted

This was madness.

If there was one thing Astarion had learnt from dealing with Cazador, it was that he should never underestimate a vampire lord and his own personal agenda. If Strahd had allowed the pale elf to successfully fight his way through the mists enshrouding Barovia, it was because Strahd already expected his arrival.

And my, my... Lord Zarovich wasn't one to mince words, was he now?

How harrowingly nostalgic.

"Well, ern- I mean..." A pause. Thoughts coalescing. "Kind of?"

At least Lord Strahd got the spawn talking before he could resort to seduction. A weight lifted off Astarion's shoulders, no doubt. The last thing he wanted was to engage in a horizontal dance with another vampire lord only to be stalked high and low throughout the realms because said lord took him for a perfectly reasonable bride.

He'd just barely shaken Artor Morlin off his trail, too.

"Not that I expect one of great esteem such as your good self to allow me to partake in it without something in exchange, of course-" Astarion cleared his throat to force back the bile which threatened to spill into his mouth at those words. "But if it's eternal servitude we're talking? Don't bother." A flick of the wrist hoped to wave off what preposterous bargaining chip that could have been. "I'll just see myself out, thank you."

Of course, Astarion wasn't stupid enough to wander off into these hostile lands without a guaranteed one-way ticket back to Baldur's Gate should the need arise.

He had Raphael to thank for that luxury.

[starbvund]

NPCs available:

Rahadin Corellon Artor Morlin Violet

[drizzit]

listening to the new capenna sound track and ive decided its time to put oil to water 🤪 ill eventually draw a proper pantsuit mayor silverhand -- shes white aligned primarily and blue secondary

second up these two ;; ignore that i gave them obscura colors in that second one teehee

For jax's cabaretti fit I based it off a certain clone that wears ringleader clothes - his brokers fit is kinda boring - but i was going for a mad scientist vibe for kimmuriel because he's weird he's a weirdo he doesn't fit in (the quarantine bangs were necessary) ;; i was very much inspired by @kimmurielscryingmirror ‘s designs <3

jarlaxle is red blue and black aligned

kk before i forget:

Brokers: BD

Obscura: Zhents

Maestros: Artor Morlin (duh)

Riveteers: Xanathar

Cabaretti: Cassalanters

[sageadvicednd]

Artor Morlin, the Baron of Blood So many folks like the picture of Vajra Safahr, let me introduce Artor Morlin, the Baron of Blood.

[swordcoast]

Session Notes from 3/3/17

1) At the Spires of the Morning(SoM), Oran is returned to sanity by the high priestess, High Radiance Ghentilara. Some deliberation about how to bring back SS and Beirost, but since most of the plans involve having their remains handy, it is decided that another jaunt into the Dungeon of the Crypt is necessary. Oran designates SoM as the return point for Word of Recall.

2) The Dungeon of the Crypt has been fortified and there are now thugs with bows behind the arrow slits, so a combat begins pretty quickly. Melor and Kontra bash down a door, some thugs are killed, some set free, at least one gets his hand taken off and told to go worship Tyr

3) In the so-called Hot Tub Room, the half-dragon ettin Bonesplitter shows up and tries to start a combat, but Melor drops a Wall of Fire across the entrance and the party takes off the other direction.

4) The bodies of Swiftshadow and Beirost are right where they fell (sans brains). Bonesplitter closes in from behind them, a large panther-man approaches from another direction, and the brain-sucking worms approach from a third. Oran triggers Word of Recall and everyone is back at the SoM.

5) Deliberation in earnest about whether/how to resurrect Beirost and Swiftshadow. In the end, SS gives up her best magical item to be resurrected but retires from adventuring to lead a monastic life, and Beirost's wishes are determined to be that his body be sent to his erstwhile hag lover Mhaug in Skullport

6) Ostensibly to obtain a coffin for Beirost, the party visits Hendever's Coffins and Coffers in Trades Ward, only to find there are a lot of coffins there, prettymuch floor to ceiling. Under intense questioning and mind-probing, Hendever flees the shop, followed by Kontra and Melor. Thaern and Oran interrogate the son, Cleve, and determine that at least one coffin has something/someone in it already. Kontra catches up with Hendever, determines that he thinks he's in danger, and convinces him to go to the SoM for sanctuary. Melor goes back to the shop to get/rescue Cleve. Eventually Hendever & son are safe in the temple, and the party gets back to the shop just after dawn.

7) Opening the coffin where Thaern had seen a leg, a zombie comes out and rings a bell, upon which other zombies emerge and a werewolf-vampire-barbarian of Dhusarra's brood. Combat is joined.

8) Oran blows away most of the zombies, but soon Dhusarra herself is there, and its her, a werewolf, and eventually some wolves, versus the party and a bunch of coffins animated by Melor. She attempts domination of Oran and Kontra without success, briefly dominates Melor, all the while taking a lot of damage, primarily from Kontra.

9) She grabs Thaern and starts blood-draining him, and eventually brings him within an inch of death, holding him hostage to strike a bargain, while simultaneously telling the party to hunt down Artor Morlin and threatening their loved ones. The party backs out the door and she lets Thaern go, turns into a bat, and flees (using her last "I decide to succeed" to allow her to escape Kontra's Compel Duel effect)

Where will things go from here?