#infernalbarbarian

[violadesdragons]

The scars remind us that the past is real.

[wildskissed]

Sexual Tension Prompts - @infernalbarbarian mused: " you can do whatever you want to me. " :))))

"Anything, my darling? That's quite the PROMISE," Eve smirks a little, letting her hands reach for Karlach to draw her closer to her, lips connecting with her chest. That infernal engine is there just beneath the surface, but if she doesn't have to stop touching her, then she can show her how she feels in a much different way. "But if you're sure..."

Eve winks up at her, trailing feather soft kisses along Karlach's exposed skin, humming as her fingertips start to trace her scars. They make their way to her pants, giving a gentle chuckle as she undoes them so she can slip her hand inside to feel her, keeping each touch tender and intimate as she groans needily against the tiefling's skin.

"Have I told you lately just how beautiful you are?" Eve asks her, letting fingers stroke at her wet core languidly. "Because I should tell you every day..." she nods, sinking down to her knees as she tugs Karlach's pants down her legs so she can kiss along her thighs reverently, purple eyes peering up at her earnestly. "Is this okay...?"

[dreadgloom]

❛ can’t sleep? ❜ [ hi c: ]

an assortment of dialogue prompts . . . accepting . . . @infernalbarbarian

The ranger pauses in the action of packing their smoking pipe. The smell of fresh tobacco and a tinge of other substances hang in the air around her. ❝ It is the price of being alert for far too long. ❞ The drow gestures for the tiefling to join if she wishes before returning to finish packing her latest blend. The ember end of a smoldering maple wood stick is removed from the edge of the evening fire and used as a light before a first drag is taken. Having served its purpose, it is then jammed into the dirt to put out any lingering heat so it might be used again later. ❝ It seems we might be in a similar situation, ❞ she commented with an exhale of smoke once the other had taken a seat. The pipe is held out towards the barbarian in silent offering.

[moonridge]

our muses are stuck somewhere together and must occupy their time. ( hi !!! )

( indulgent tropes. || accepting! )

　　　　　　　　　*

　　　sure enough, as much as ozus presses on the door, it doesn't budge. somewhere along the way, someone must have set off some sort of trap and sealed both of the tieflings within it. the rest of the party remains on the other side, leaving the two of them to only each other's company as the others try to solve the puzzle to open the door.

　　　ozus turns toward karlach and offers a smile, as if the trap going off certainly could not have been their fault. ❝ well, isn't this cozy? maybe we could play a little game while we wait. not like there's anything else to do. ❞ they make themselves comfortable, sitting down on a crate and crossing their right leg over their left.

　　　❝ how about we play 'two truths and a lie?' have you played it before? ❞

　　　　　　　　　*

　　　　　　　　　　—@infernalbarbarian—

[weavewilled]

@infernalbarbarian inquired: “i haven’t read a book since secondary school.” ( I HAD TO )

BRIEFLY, THE WIZARD JUST LOOKS A LITTLE DEFLATED, as though the mere idea punctures another hole in the already thinning fabric of his expectations. But! He rallies, swiftly, handily. " Well, " he says, with a bolstered, encouraging smile. " No time like the present, I'd say! There are worlds out there written in books. "

And a sweep of a hand encompasses —— everything. The tall, tall bookshelves, countless, lining the walls of this enormous library. The sheer enthusiasm and passion laid under the words is plain. " Beautiful ones, tragic ones. Romantic ones. Adventurous ones. Almost anything you can imagine. I like to think there is a book for everyone. Now, " and it's with a twirl of a hand, a flutter of slender fingers, only coming to rest 'pon his chin in thought, " what sort would you like? If you'd like to try, I can certainly make recommendations. "

[baldursgated]

@infernalbarbarian  always  knows  what  to  say.  at  least,  in  yrenia's  eyes  they  do. this  day  had  felt  so  long,  and  their  was  a  creak  in  their  neck. their  back  ached,  their  heart  felt  heavy,  as  if  they  knew  without  anyone saying  it  that  time  was  of  the  essence. for  a  moment,  she  is  silent,  focusing  on  the  routine  movements  of  plaiting  her  hair. one  side  of  it  is  still  down,  magenta  and  brown  waves  falling  to  her  waist. 

 ❛  i  wish  i  could  be  as  honest  as  you  always  are,  karlach. ❜  the  words  are  spoken  softly so no lingering ears hear her words,  though  the  corners  of  her  lips  are  turned  upwards  in  an  even  brighter  smile  than  a  moment  before,  when  she  had  been  telling  the  barbarian  about  asterion  falling  into  the  creek  earlier  that  morning,  ❛  it is  so.... refreshing. ❜  they  want  to  reach  out,  to  grab  her  hands  and  squeeze  them,  thank  her  for  everything  she  has  done  for  yrenia  already  and  that  which  she  has  still  yet  to  do. but  they  know  they  can't,  knows  their  palms  would  burn  with  the  fire  that  roars  through  her  body. it's  better  yet  that  they  are  occupied,  or  she  may  have  done  it  anyways. 

 ❛  you  burn  bright  for  me. a  guiding  star  on  even  the  darkest  of  nights. ❜  karlach  made  her  want  to  be  a  better  person.

[thiefscant]

"Maybe life should be about more than just surviving." ↳ @infernalbarbarian — memes / accepting!

        there has never been anything more to being alive than staying alive. this has been the way of things for the rogue for so long that any suggestion otherwise is met with stiffening shoulders and a stubborn set to her jaw. as anais crosses her arms, uncrosses them, then crosses them again, her eyes remain focused intently on the fire. it's not until she seems to have decided something important that she raises her chin to meet karlach's gaze. "what else is there?"

[stormcried]

@infernalbarbarian gets a random start!

He doesn't see them... the people that had identified him as something else... they're hunting him. For what reason, he doesn't know. It's like.. it's like they want something from him. Little does he know, he's on the run from poachers. Poachers of other people for 'rarities'. Tieflings... elves, drow.. gnomes. They all sought something out of them. And a hidden 'merfolk' of legend is walking among them. No one could look human or vaguely elf for that matter if he had those deformities they noticed.

Drake exhales a breath, lifting himself up from the water. The trade off from looking human is he couldn't breathe underwater naturally. Although, his clothes are soaking wet. How humans stay comfortable soaked is beyond him. "Okay... I think they're gone. I should get out of here.." He muttered to himself and would begin to try and run the opposite way, only for a staggering figure to be.. watching him? Drake stared at this woman for Gods knew how long?

"Uhm.. h-hello?" Drake meekly called out, unsure how to approach talking to her.

[elturiandawn]

@infernalbarbarian asked: ‘it wasn’t you. I didn’t trust anyone. I was afraid to.’

“Avernus did strange things to people.”

In the fire-marked dusk light, she can still see the churning wastes of Avernus, the Styx stretched out beneath Elturel like the maw of some ravenous beast. Even now, it’s jarringly surreal—the towering spires of her beloved city clutched in the strangle-hold of sickly skies, rather than beneath the blessed velvet firmament. It seems a nightmare more than a memory, because how could anything be so powerful as to rip a city from its very foundation and drag it across the planes?

Not just anything, but anyone. Zariel. The poisonous fount of Celeste's own infernal blood.

The same creature who tormented Karlach—who forced her into service in the Blood War. Who would have done the same to Celeste, had the fellow tiefling not intervened on her behalf.

She paid the price for it, too. Topaz eyes linger on the shattered horn crowning Karlach’s head, a gift from Zariel for her disobedience. Perhaps to a non-tiefling, the scar seems insignificant. But Celeste knows: her horns are a part of herself, as integral to her identity as her face and her voice. To have one ripped from her head would be nothing less than a gross violation.

“When Elturel was restored to Faerûn, my own people cast me out—even though I had done nothing but protect them. They cast out the others, too. Zevlor, Alfira, Dammon. Good, innocent people. All because we had the blood of devils in our veins.”

She shifts, pulling her legs up against her chest. The position is strangely childlike for the princess, as if she’s been seized by such a weariness that she can’t be bothered to maintain her poise. She feels like a little girl again—hurt, lonely, somehow unable to comprehend the cruelties that the world lays at her feet.

“I was angry for a while. There were good people in that mob—people I once knew and trusted. Friends. I didn’t understand how they could perpetrate such injustice. And then I realized… it wasn’t me they were really afraid of. They’d been hurt. Badly. They were scared, and they were trying to protect themselves in every way that they could.”

She turns to look at Karlach again, and there’s a softness there that was absent a moment ago—a warm admiration that seeps through the gold of her eyes. “I don’t blame you for keeping me at a distance, Karlach. You were protecting yourself the only way you knew how. It doesn’t change what you did, nor will I ever be any less grateful for it.”

[cimmeriana]

' did you have another nightmare? '

Nightmares had become a norm, just another ritual in the night. But it seemed as if they were increasing in both rate and intensity as they grew ever nearer to Baldur’s Gate. Was this a warning? A welcome home?

Melinoe had jolted up in a cold sweat, her claws digging into the bedroll beneath her so harshly that the fabric was now near shreds. Honestly, she couldn't even remember falling asleep by the campfire. She often tried not to specifically because she didn't want her nightmares to disturb her companions.

She must have dozed off while she'd been lost in thought and, rather than wake her, they all collectively decided to let her sleep and cover her with a blanket. The gesture was endearing, but at the moment she couldn't appreciate due to the vivid images of gore, death, and pain that flashed into her head.

Her eyes strung, Melinoe realized, and she quickly wiped at them with the back of her clammy hand to realize that she was wiping away tears. And, gods, did her head throb. She tried to blink away the pain, her chest heaving, and finally the black spots of her vision began to clear enough for her to see that all of her companions had awoken to her screaming and diligently poked themselves out of their own comfy tents to check on her.

Her nightmares had never been this bad before... she couldn't help but to feel embarrassed as she felt all their eyes upon her in varying expressions of worry and what her anxious, currently self-loathing mind perceived as pity. White eyes cast downwards, her hands fisting into the shredded bedroll.

It was Karlach who spoke first, perhaps the only one who really could figure out even what to say.

❝ I'm sorry... ❞ was all Melinoe could whisper out at first, her face flushed as she internally scolded herself for such weakness, ❝ I didn't mean to wake anyone... I'm fine. ❞ She knew that her words weren't convincing and even though all she wished was for them to return to their tents and pretend nothing was wrong, she knew her companions well enough to know that they would do no such thing.

Lina could hear the sound of Gale's pots clinking together as he gathered them, likely to heat some milk for the whole camp, the smell of chamomile as Halsin dug into a pouch for tea leaves, the familiar heat of Karlach's presence nearing beside her, the clinking of glass as Shadowheart plucked up two bottles of wine, the sound of splinting as Jaheira tossed another log into the fire, and the quiet shuffling of Astarion, and Lae'zel as they settled themselves quietly onto the sitting log nearby.

They were all awake now already, so why not sit together at the fire a little longer?

[violadesdragons]

I’m reeling soldier.

[wildskissed]

Yearning Prompts - @infernalbarbarian mused: do you have any idea what you do to me?

Pointed ears perk up at the words that grace them, the corners of Eve's mouth turning up in a smile as the MEANING settles. It's nice to know that she's stirred Karlach like this, because the tiefling certainly does something to the wood elf as well. Even the tiniest things she did sometimes, set off tremors of longing in Eve's heart, and made butterflies erupt in her stomach.

"Oh?" she started playfully, tilting her head a little and resting her hand against a nearby crate. "Pray tell...what do I do to you?"

[abyssmarked]

* speak of the devil . this is a sideblog to @infernalbarbarian for another “tav” original character from baldur’s gate 3. nepharia is half tiefling / half succubus, multi - classed as a warlock rouge. this blog will contain a lot of triggering and mature content ( mentions of sexual violence & trauma, heavy violence & gore ), please be at least 21 before interacting. beneath the cut is a more detailed explanation of who nepharia is and her background. anyone can interact! always welcoming to canon and ocs alike. <3

* dossier . name. nepharia graylock. nicknames. she likes to be called neph, and would prefer her friends to call her that ( if she had friends ). race. half tiefling / half succubus. class & specialization. warlock ( the fiend ) / rouge. age. 40. gender & pronouns. cis female / she, her. orientation. pansexual. height in tiefling form. 5’6”. height in true, succubus form. 5’10”. hair. straight, light gray & silver, just below her shoulders. eyes. light gray - blue, almost white. complexion. her skin is almost colorless, a pale, gray color. she has a few patches of light freckles speckled upon her nose, shoulders, back, and hips. distinguishing features. she is marked in abyssal language upon the left side of her face, given to her by her patron as a symbol of ownership over her. true succubus form. in her true form, she stands a bit taller at 5’10”, and her claws grow longer and sharper. the whites of her eyes turn black, and the pupils become a bright, glowing white. her teeth come to a sharper point, and of course, she sprouts pale, fleshy wings with a span of four feet in each direction. piercings. she wears a silver hoop in the cartilage of her nose, a bull ring. alignment. between chaotic neutral & neutral evil, honestly.

* personality . nepharia gets through her life using dark humor to cope with her traumas, she’s heavily sarcastic and can be really mean and harsh most of the time. she’s not used to normal social interaction, and normally when she’s being talkative and charming, it’s because she feels like she needs to use her fiendish charms for survival. she uses it to gain advantage over someone, not when she’s genuinely interested in someone. she doesn’t let herself get close to people she actually likes, but if she did, she wouldn’t know what to do with herself. she’d probably be fighting a constant fight or flight with her own feelings.

killing people, especially powerful men, is just something she’s grown accustomed to. whether it be through her deadly seduction, or just the power her patron offers for the deed, she’s gotten good and has grown numb to both. it’s second nature to her now, but she likes to fantasize about a life where should live normally. settle down, fall in love, maybe start a family — but she knows it just isn’t in the cards for her. it can’t be. she’s used to violence and blood, however, a gentle touch and a kind word makes her cringe, as if she doesn’t deserve anything soft.

* quick backstory . nepharia was born into an extremely poor family, and her mother died giving birth to her. her father always hated her for this, and eventually sold nepharia to a powerful man who owned a tiefling brothel at the age of only sixteen. she also was born a pale, gray color, whereas both her mother and her father have crimson colored skin, her father always assumed her mother had been unfaithful to him, and also resented nepharia for this. nepharia is the name her mother would have chosen for her, had she survived the childbirth.

but it’s true, neph’s father isn’t her biological father, for neph’s mother was ravaged in the night while she was sleeping by an incubus, and thus nepharia was born. half tiefling, half succubus, though she wasn’t aware of this, not for many more years.

nepharia spent another decade under the abusive ownership of theodor, the owner of the brothel, forced to be with countless clients though never touching any of the coin made from her labor herself. eventually, people started to complain about feeling abnormally sluggish and weak after buying an evening with nepharia, and she was even the reason many warriors fell in battle -- after a single night with the succubus, the strongest of warriors could meet a bloody end. before too long, after enough complaints, nepharia was punished by being offered to the more -- rough -- clients of theodor, clients he always promised she wouldn’t have to deal with.

after weeks of brutality, neph started to get visited by a regular client at least once every other day. this customer never wanted sex, in fact, he only ever talked to her during their sessions, telling her that she was far more than just a tiefling to be beaten, used and discarded. this client revealed himself to be a devil, residing in the depths of the nine hells deep in the abyss, and he craved the lifeforce of rich and powerful men in the mortal realm, but retrieving their souls was difficult. but it wouldn’t be for nepharia, all she had to do was what she’s been doing since she was a young teenage girl.

when the devil offered her great power to slay her captors, to kill theodor and everyone that ever hurt her, nepharia was so desperate and broken that she didn’t even hesitate to agree. the devil laid his hand upon nepharia’s face, and she winced and yelped at the searing pain burning into her. as the devil pulls his hand away, she’s left with a mark in abyssal, saying that she is the property of ‘zymimor’ for the rest of eternity.

after that moment, it was as if the fires of the hells coursed through nepharia’s veins, triggering her true form. she stood taller, her fangs and claws grew slightly longer, and gray, pale wings sprouted from her shoulder blades. she never knew she could do that, just as she never knew she was a succubus to begin with. for the first time in her entire life, she had power. she hid within the wingless form she was used to until she could get theodor alone. she seduced him, almost eagerly, and now she knows what she could do. as she gave him her body, she drained every ounce of energy from his, absorbing his lifeforce into her until there was nothing left, and he was just a corpse beneath her. she made sure to spread her wings in his last moments, so he could see what she really was, and the creature he made the mistake of fucking with. the devil offered her knowledge of the power she already had, and also the power to slaughter the rest of the men inside of the brothel with the magic she never had before.

for about four to five years after escaping theodor and the brothel, nepharia enjoyed the power she was given in the beginning. no one could fuck with her, she felt invincible -- like a god. zymimor, her patron, always had work for her, and in return made sure that she was well paid. there are few empires who know of the true nature of what nepharia is, and in those areas, she’s already assassinated many a king and dictator, emperor and ruler, with her abyssal body alone and her fiendish, deadly charm. zymimor eventually taught her how to travel to the abyss, where she is to bring back the souls of the men she kills for her patron to absorb.

recently, though, nepharia is getting... depressed. sometimes, she feels like the only thing she’s good for is fucking men to death, and how many of them actually deserved it? some of them treated her rather well, but she had her orders. she fell in love with one of her targets once, and that ended in brutal, bloody heartache and she hasn’t really been herself since. she’s deeply sad, deeply broken, deeply conflicted and lost. she craves love, something she’s never felt once in her entire life, but she’s convinced that she doesn’t deserve it. not after everything she’s done. not when she kills the people she loves. she wants to believe she’s “free”, trying to convince herself every day that she’s not still a slave, afraid of the person who commands her. she knows love is something someone like her gets to feel. so she secludes herself, not allowing herself to get close to anyone, and just doing her job -- and doing it well -- it’s all she’s ever known.

then, after years of her only regular social interations being when she’s on a job and trying to seduce the victims of her patron, the nautiloid wreaks havoc on a small town she keeps to herself in, taken right out of her home in the middle of the night…

* other / misc info . nepharia hides the fact that she’s a succubus from everyone she meets, not wanting to be treated differently for what she is, she sees enough racism simply existing as a tiefling.

more tba.

* half - illithid verse / act iii. the fight with ketheric thorm was hard, and neph barely made it out alive. she gave it everything she had, including her wings. she fought the battle in her truest form, and the apostle of myrkul snatched her out of the air, ripping off her wings before throwing her into a wall. she believes her fury, the mourning of something precious to her, is what got her through the rest. the raw power of her anger was just enough to defeat ketheric, plus the help of her mighty companions.

nepharia’s wings were special to her. the look on people’s faces when she would shift into her truest form, the power she felt, the intimidated murmurs she received. the freedom of being able to fly was unlike any other. when the emperor offers nepharia the special tadpole, she’s hesitant, but it doesn’t even take an entire day for her to decide to consume it. she knows the horrors of what they are facing, and she knows she’s going to need all of the power she can get if she’s going to survive. but she doesn’t just want to survive. she wants control. if nepharia can control the elder brain, then she doesn’t have to worry about anyone ever again. no man, no devil, no god would be able to touch her ever again.

more tba.

[caressofsharess]

* worship me : a depiction of the demigod ‘sharess’ from baldur’s gate 3 and forgotten realms lore, penned by nyx [ she / they, 30 ]. please only interact if you are 21+, as this blog will contain mature content. info beneath the cut is pulled from a wiki, but i will be adding my own lore and headcanons into the mix. this is a sideblog, all likes and follows will be coming from @infernalbarbarian.

about. sharess ( pronounced: SHAH-ress ) known in the Mulhorandi pantheon as Bast, was the Faerûnian goddess of festhalls, hedonism, and sensual fulfillment. Passionate and willful, The Dancing Lady had the independent and hedonistic temperament of a feline, and encouraged her followers to spread pleasure to all. Sharess was an innate flirt and loved toying around with beautiful mortals; once she had her fill, she swiftly moved on to other sources of pleasure.

As Bast, she opposed the evil Set along with the other good-aligned gods of that nation. She had a close relationship with Nobanion, who shared her interest in felines, though Sharess did as much to annoy him as she did to entice him. She also had a romantic relationship with Anhur, though their opinion of each other varied wildly from absolute love to indifference depending on how many fights they had. As Sharess, she was an ally of Selûne, Sune, Milil, Hanali Celanil, and Lliira, and she opposed both Loviatar and Shar, the latter of which never forgot that Sharess escaped from her clutches.

The Church of Sharess was of casual nature, and her clergy were responsible for the running of many festhalls found throughout large cities in Faerûn. These festhalls sought to indulge every pleasure imaginable. Privately owned festhalls usually employed at least one or two Sharessan clerics. These festhalls cater to all the senses and include fantastic feasts, heavenly baths and massages, and every other pleasure imaginable. Wealthy festhalls often employ one or two mid-level Sharessan, and some Sharessan wander the countryside with Sharess’s blessing seeking new pleasing sensations to add to their repertoire.

The Church of Sharess probably celebrated the most festivals out of all the faiths of Faerûn. These revels were known collectively as the Endless Revels of Life. Even daily events, such as the rising and setting of the sun, presented a chance for Sharessans to revel. Their most beloved festival was the Midsummer's Eve festival, where the pursuit of pleasure had no boundary.

Sharess didn't have any orders as such, but a group of werecats devoted to both her and Selûne, and calling themselves the Eyes of the Evening, hunted down Sharran cultists on nights of the full moon.

Sharess was originally known as Bast, a Mulhorandi power who was the patroness of cats, and Anhur's lieutenant. During the Second Mulhorandi Empire (beginning −1048 DR), she subsumed the portfolio of Felidae, a beast cult deity of felines, nomads, and sensual pleasure. Struck by wanderlust, Bast traveled across Faerûn leaving many cults in her wake. During these travels, she also subsumed the divinity of Zandilar the Dancer, a goddess of the Yuir elves, gaining that goddess' portfolio of intense passionate love.

After Myth Drannor fell, she began to experiment with the darker side of pleasure and fell under the sway of Shar, and became known as Sharess. During the Time of Troubles, Sune freed Sharess from Shar's influence, when the latter tried to assassinate Sharess, as she had Ibrandul due to her reluctance to be completely dominated by the goddess of shadow. Sune doused Sharess with a chalice filled with waters from Arvandor's Evergold that restored Sharess' beauty and willpower, giving her the will and the edge to rebel against her mistress.

After that, Sharess spent much of her time in Arvandor, frolicking and pursuing pleasure in all of its forms, despite the warnings of her deific allies and the offers made by Shar, and guarding herself from Loviatar.

dossier. current name. sharess. previous name. bast. title(s): the dancing lady, the festhall madam, the lustful mistress, feline of felicity, succubus of sensation, mother of cats, foe of set. power level. demigod. alignment. chaotic good. status. immortal. symbol. cats. appearance. normally, she appears as a beautiful, maturely aged human, mortal female, around mid to late forties. the hair changes from dark to light, whatever she’s really feeling in the moment, really. the only thing separating her from mortal humans is her golden cat eyes. in her true form, her body looks about the same, same full curves, stunning figure. but she has the head of a black cat, same golden eyes. she stands at 5’9”. personality. sharess adores being around mortals, for the most part. she enjoys experiencing all of the big emotions. she lives for their lust, their greed, their gluttony, their sin, their joy, their deepest pleasures. you can find her crashing big celebrations to bless it with her presence, spreading ecstasy and delight throughout. she’s quite charming, and easily excitable, a shameless flirt — she will flirt with anyone and anything.

baldur’s gate 3. so this part is still being fleshed out, but for plotting purposes, i figure sharess will be one of the characters you can have help you in your fight against the elder brain and she hangs around your camp like isobel and dame aylin.

headcanons. one. in a fight, claw bracers are her weapons of choice. she can manipulate peoples’ emotions and can lower multiple enemies armor class at once, and make concentrating on spells almost impossible. she’s good at weakening defenses. she can also teleport in short, fast bursts, and her dexterity score is unbelievably high. incredibly fast, nimble and flexible.

two. she greets all mortals she meets with a tender kiss on the lips or the forehead, not in a sexual manner, just because she loves mortals so much, she finds them to be adorable and fascinating and she wants to bless each and every once of them with her influence.

three. after centuries of enslavement by the lady of darkness, every ounce of her own once unbreakable will siphoned and replaced only by pain, a thing once curiously pleasurable quickly became her nightmare. her prison. no more pleasure, no more bliss, only darkness and agony. after her escape, shar sent armies of sharran cultists throughout faerûn to hunt her down, forcing the demigod to abandon the realms she adored so very much. she retaliated by growing her own army, her own cult— orders of werecats throughout faerûn would gather in packs, hunt and kill any sharran cultists on sight in sharress’ name during each and every full moon.

[n1ghtwarden]

THINGS YOUR MUSE WILL NOTICE ABOUT MINE repost , do not reblog

WHAT THEY LOOK LIKE . minthara cuts an intimidating figure at first glance. while not extraordinarily tall by aboveground standards, her armour makes up for that in changing her silhouette; and her eyes are an exceedingly pale and piercing red. she keeps herself clean; neat - her hair is always pulled back and in a loose bun to keep it out from her face for both practical and aesthetic reasons. above all, she has the air of nobility to her - her posture is perfect; every movement measured and deliberate. though one might miss the branding tattoo upon her neck that marks minthara as a baenre at first glance, her bearing more than makes up for it. underneath her armour, minthara is well-muscled; with a defined abdomen, arms and legs - the result of centuries of training. her limbs are long - gangly; and her body is covered in both freckles/moles and silvery scars that form web like patterns across her body - some ancient, some fresh.

WHAT THEY SMELL LIKE . she smells primarily of the leather of her armour - underneath that, depending on the day and what she has done, perhaps the sharp tang of sweat or the metallic scent of blood mixed with the scent of the salves she applies to keep herself from burning in the sun. after an evening at camp, however, minthara makes sure to bathe and cleanses herself with spiced oils - she'll smell of cloves and cinnamon and bergamot - not comparable to the oils and tinctures of the menzoberranzan, but close enough.

WHAT THEY TASTE LIKE . minthara's lips and mouth will often taste of wine in the evening; red, rich and dark - dry; spiced. during the day, she tastes of the salves she applies to keep herself to prevent sunburn (yes, she tastes like sunscreen).

WHAT THEY SOUND LIKE . minthara's voice is low; raspy - deep in her throat. hers is a voice that is comfortable with power; one that knows it, too. she sounds every bit the noblewoman she is - commanding, never commanded.

WHAT THEY FEEL LIKE . minthara's hands are calloused after years of training and battles - she prefers, after all, to wield her weapons with no gloves - and as such, while the tops of her hands are decently soft, her fingertips and palms are rough; the callouses thick.

TAGGED BY: @enathema thank yew TAGGING: @nerimoi, @thepalelfe, @womanlives, @weaveshadows, @darkgifted, @vannaspar, @murdershaped, @infernalbarbarian AND YOU

[thiefscant]

"aw, anais, you really do care." ↳ @infernalbarbarian — memes / accepting!

        "you can't be saying things like that to me; someone might hear you." anais holds out the sheet of infernal iron for karlach to take. "it's for you, so you can carry it until we're back at last light." she shrugs. "and don't—mention it." she seems...discomforted by the prospect. "this place was on our way."