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theemperorweek · 2 months

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A Re-Imagining of The Emperor’s Romance Scene

This is a work in progress and an excerpt of a longer piece I’m working on that I wanted to share during Emperor Week, but was too busy to get around to it. The longer piece is a re-imagining of the Baldur’s Gate 3 narrative, and this scene is a re-imagining of the romance scene with the Emperor. Sarai is the “Tav” character, and to give a little background on her: she knows little of her birth family, but she was born with some innate divination magic that she has somewhat learned to wield. She also possesses a bound weapon - a glaive - that she was told once belonged to her mother. She’s been developing her tadpole powers under the Emperor’s guidance, and in my head cannon, that development is causing faint changes to her appearance even before the astral tadpole. This scene takes place in the astral prism between Sarai and the Emperor.

NSFW, however, there’s nothing particularly graphic and there are no trigger warnings I can think of that I need to add. Approximately 1,800 words.

“There’s more to this prism than what you can feel. Than you can sense.” Sarai meets your gaze. Though subtle, the undeniable pulse of psionic energy leaves dark traces beneath her ashy skin, awakened from your connection. “There are memories here, an entire history. I felt it the moment I entered this prism for the first time. It’s taken me some time to unweave the strands of its essence from the psionic energy of this place, from the consciousness of the gith, but it’s unmistakable now. I can show it to you, if you like?”

You regard her curiously. The unusualness of her mind, that awareness you felt when you first connected has gnawed at you since. You have yearned to explore it, to know its secrets, but such excavating would endanger her. As resilient as a mind can be, it can also be remarkably fragile. Burrowing deep into its recesses could harm her, could break her. While such hungry digging would satiate your own illithid desires, the cost is too great. You know this from her. From Belynne.

“Open your mind to me.” There’s an intensity to her dark eyes, and you pause for a moment as you consider her offer. She has spent many nights in the prism with you learning, through your guidance, to focus the power the tadpole gives her. You have felt its power grow, but even then the depths of her mind remained walled off from you. Not all minds are easily accessed, but what superficial connection you have made thus far has only deepened your hunger for more. You carefully relax the edges of your mind, and your body follows in response. You notice a deep intake of breath from Sarai as she feels the edges of your mind connect with hers, and she focuses on a deep undercurrent of energy. Waves of it wash across her skin and yours, gentle at first, chilly, then growing in force. You sense a presence distinct from Sarai’s and distinct from the gith whose consciousness is subjugated by yours. There’s a power seeping into the very rock beneath your feet, and you see flashes of fertile land, mist from a waterfall floating above the rocky shore of a river, and an endless night sky, serene and uniform.

She is becoming a conduit.

A great power floods your essence and you feel the weight of a crown upon your head. This is your realm. Your very thoughts, your will touch and penetrate the landscape drawing on an ancient arcana, grounded and heavy. Your hands are no longer your own, but pale, spindly, and adorned with jewels. You hold in your hand a glowing disk carved with ancient runes you do not recognize, but its magic courses through you as you seek to bend it to your will. You seek to bend it in desperation, but it’s too late. You feel the rock beneath you fracture and the sky flash and split, blinding you with the white hot intensity of a sun. For a fraction of an instant your body feels the coming heat, then an endless darkness.

You’re thrown back into your own body, Sarai’s mind now severed from yours. The dark pulses beneath her skin recede as the waves of energy once washing over your skin evaporate leaving only the lingering memory of their touch. You feel Sarai’s hand on your shoulder as if to steady you.

“I’m fine,” you tell her.

That same intensity has not left her gaze. “I know.” There’s a hint of amusement in her voice. “I wasn’t sure what to expect, so I was just…” she pauses for a moment, “checking on you.” She removes her hand from your shoulder and turns to the expanse. “It’s incredible isn’t it? This place has lost none of its beauty even in its destruction.” Her tone becomes wistful and distant. “Memories fade with time, whether they are the memories in our own minds or the memories of a place. It takes powerful magic, or a powerful event, for such memories to linger at all.”

A moment of silence passes, broken only by the distant crackling of the red-yellow glow in the starry sky beyond. You look to the woman by your side, a formidable fighter, your sword, your ally in this fight for the fate of Fea’run, for your fate. She has opened her mind to yours, a mind you have grown most fond of, her company something you had not thought possible. You turn your body towards her as she gives you a curious look, turning to meet you. As formidable as she is, stronger and taller than most women, you still tower over her, but she shows not a hint of fear. You haven’t decided if she is foolish, or if she knows something you don’t. Perhaps it is something else entirely? This moment may not come again.

“The moment we met, and every moment since, I knew your mind was truly something special. I didn’t know what I expected when this mission began, but one thing I did not expect,” you notice Sarai’s head cock every so subtly to the side, “was how much I would enjoy your company. I have felt your potential, helped you harness it, and you have shown me the uniqueness of your gifts.” You sense Sarai straighten, not with fear or guardedness, but with curiosity. You turn your wrist and summon a small tadpole into your palm. “We are up against a great evil, but together we can face it, destroy it forever. Your magnificent gifts could be greater still for the fight that is to come for all of us. If you let me, I can evolve you.”

She regards the tadpole with hesitation, keeping her hands to her side. “What is it?”

“It’s a mind flayer tadpole crystallized from millennia in the astral plane, absorbing its energy, its power. It wants to evolve, but it cannot do so alone. It must commune with another. I have had the pleasure of studying your mind, of seeing what you can do, what you’re capable of. I believe I can help you fulfill your latent illithid potential if you let me.”

“How so,” she was quick to ask.

“Before the outward transformation of ceremorphosis, your body begins to connect. Your mind penetrates every part of you. I remember this feeling from my own evolution. I have been nurturing this tadpole, studying it to make it safe. I believe I can unleash your potential without turning you. There will be some physical alterations, but only partial. As we’ve explored your potential, I can see the power you harness pulsing under your skin. You’ve seen it, too. This will make that more potent, but I will not let you transform. Only the tadpole in your head can do that, and I will not allow that to happen.”

***

You feel a faint caress at the edges of your mind as you meet the Emperor’s eyes. It’s warm and excited, like the feeling of anticipation.

“Open your mind,” his voice deep and soothing. “You already know how.”

The tadpole yearns and aches for your connection. It’s starved and lonely. There was a time not long ago when you would have violently rejected such an offer and squashed whatever gift this was beneath your foot, but you find yourself meeting the rush of the Emperor’s anticipation with your own, closing your eyes and letting down your defenses. You feel a cold surge of energy run through your limbs, its intensity bordering on the edge of pain, connecting every joint, every muscle and organ with your thoughts, your consciousness. You flex and release your fingers. They’re tight as raw energy courses through them, but then the feeling settles leaving your body awakened, your skin pimpled, this change, dark and branching, is now written across your flesh like ink on parchment. The vicarious power you feel when you connect your mind with the Emperor’s is now yours.

“You are exquisite.” You feel a rush of warmth with the Emperor’s words. His warmth. “You know,” he pauses momentarily as though to consider his next words. “I have felt for some time that you and I have been dancing our way towards something deeper. We are more alike now than we have ever been. If you want, we could… further deepen our relationship.”

You feel your own warmth rise to meet his. “Are you trying to seduce me?” You notice his breath quicken with your words.

“Would you like that?”

You nod as a smile curls on to your lips, and you warm with another rush of feeling, the Emperor’s feeling, palpable and hotter this time, tingling down into your loins, and rising to a gentle fullness in the center of your chest. With a graceful flourish of the Emperor’s wrist your body becomes weightless, rising to meet his gaze. Within inches of his face your breath merges and you notice the familiar scent of vanilla now with a mellow hint of garlic. You touch the cold chitin of his armor with your fingertips, searching for a seam.

“Remove this. I want to see you.” Much like the magic of your weapon when you beckon it to your grasp, the carapace dissolves before you, allowing your fingertips to caress his chest. As you brush your fingers across his skin you feel a gentle caress cross yours. You take a deep breath to open your mind to the feeling, and your skin pimples under the sensation. The Emperor’s lower tentacles curl and rise towards your face stroking your cheek and the other cradling the back of your head. You take one in hand to meet your lips and mouth, evoking from him a deep guttural moan. You pause and notice his face relax, the severity of his brow softening under your touch. You bring his tentacle once again to your mouth. His fingers tense and release as he lets out another guttural moan, his breath quickening even more, your heart racing in response. You know he feels your desire, your heat, your own aching, and you feel your clothing loosen and open as its ties unravel at the Emperor’s thoughts, and the fabric used to hold your breasts in place during battle unwraps and falls away. The Emperor’s hands seize your hips as his tentacles wrap around your waist, your back, and between your thighs. You open your mind and his pleasure washes over you, and yours over him, and within both of you all at once. Every wave of feeling runs deeper. Every barrier to the other’s mind willingly flexes, then gives. Every point of flesh held to flesh, and limb intertwined with limb knows the absence of physical barrier. For these moments, there is nothing else, not even the space between one another. You are unbound and lost.

#the emperor week #fanfic

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theemperorweek · 2 months

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The Emperor Week has reached its conclusion

and I'd like to sincerely thank everyone for participating! Everyone who wrote fanfic, drew fanart, made gifs, edits, and shared their ideas and thoughts about our favourite squid. Everyone who left comments and kudos, likes and reblogs, and shared recs. I hope all of you had a great time <3

I tried my best to reblog every post that @-ed me or tagged the event, but if I somehow missed yours, please let me know via DM or ask and I will reblog it!

As promised, I will be accepting late submissions! The AO3 collection will stay open for a couple more weeks, and if you post your work on Tumblr or Twitter, just @ me and I will reblog/retweet it.

We've had lots of truly great submissions, so be sure to check out the works on this blog, on the Twitter page, and in the AO3 collection, and give them some love <3

What comes next

I'm thinking of doing another round of the event sometime in the second half of this year. This time, I will be sure to announce the date a few months in advance, so that everyone who wants to participate has enough time to prepare. In fact, I'm thinking of setting up a poll so that we can all choose the date together. And yes, there will be prompts this time - your feedback has been heard loud and clear! More info coming soon, so stay tuned!

For now, thank you again for participating, be sure to check out and give some love to all the incredible works made for the event, and remember:

You are exquisite. You're glorious.

See you again soon <3

#the emperor week #bg3 emperor

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theemperorweek · 2 months

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#the emperor week #gif

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theemperorweek · 2 months

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#emperor week day 7: face to face

a screenshot redraw, once again featuring my tav calhoun, to finish up @theemperorweek!! it’s been a load of fun, cheers all~!! :]

#the emperor week #fanart

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theemperorweek · 2 months

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Here’s Emperor and Tavflayer peacing out to go run the city. Painting by myself in watercolor. I’m not really happy with the feet, but I like the colors. @theemperorweek

#the emperor week #fanart

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theemperorweek · 2 months

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Submission for @theemperorweek event.

I wanted to draw the Emperor in a different style, thus this was born.

Heavy is the head that wears the crown.

FLASH WARNING.

Process video (I think the quality isn’t good? At least it doesn’t look good on my tablet):

#the emperor week #fanart

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theemperorweek · 3 months

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#emperor week day 6: before the storm

just messin around with art styles for today’s contribution to @theemperorweek :]

#the emperor week #fanart

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theemperorweek · 3 months

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i was fooling around in photopea last night and ended up making a few emperor icons i liked. feel free to use them for whatever! 💜

@theemperorweek

#the emperor week #edit

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theemperorweek · 3 months

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The Emperor cradled her chin in his long, bony hand.

[There are many aspects of my past that I find unpleasant to revisit. I do not consider myself to still be Balduran, and I do not think he could understand who I am now…but I was him. There is a straight line between him and myself, and though I am missing memories, I consider the ones I have to be precious and not mere crumbs left over from a parasite’s meal. You say you wish to be your authentic self and you think you are a copy, but you cannot tell when the copy-self began, and the original-self ended. In this case, I think the concept of authenticity is meaningless. It is only a construct made to give your original-self some intrinsic value at the expense of your copy-self when there is not a real difference between the two. It is not helpful.]

This is an excerpt from my emperor/tavflayer fanfic, Glorious. I’ll be adding a chapter for @theemperorweek The Emperor Week, but it is going a little slowly so might be late.

#the emperor week #fanfic

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theemperorweek · 3 months

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#emperor week day 5: dream visitor

something a lil different for @theemperorweek today, i wanted to draw the form my dream visitor took!!

bonus!! a lil drabble about the significance of the dream visitor’s form to my tav calhoun, and just how much it fucked him up

~1,900 words | no content warnings | ty all!!

“Can I ask you a question?”

Not like Calhoun would actually hold back on asking if the Emperor were to say no.

It took countless days, countless nights, and countless dreams and nightmares for him to finally work up the courage to so much as allow thoughts of the topic to enter his mind in the Emperor’s presence, let alone to actually let the words leave his mouth. It would be a great crime to himself if he let that courage shrink and die as a forgotten houseplant now that he’s taken the first step. Still, anxious, he keeps his gaze down, his hands taking fistfuls of his shirt’s hem to calm himself.

The Emperor, sitting silently beside him in this pocket of the Astral, turns its head slightly to try and read the tiefling’s face. Clenched teeth behind drawn lips, the corners of his mouth twitching with words unspoken. Eyes, downcast, blinking fast, as if anticipating a dam’s breakage. Hands balled into fists. Tail twitching anxiously. It half-considers using their minds’ link to take a peek into the tiefling’s thoughts, but… well, it has come to respect Calhoun’s privacy, if only a little. And it can tell that, whatever the question may be, it is an important one.

So the Emperor keeps its head angled towards Calhoun, offering him its full attention. Burning pink eyes settle upon the tiefling’s face, and their intensity feels like an authoritative hand clenching his freckled cheeks. Calhoun would wince if he were a weaker man. And the Emperor can tell.

The mindflayer does its best to soften its gaze. It does nothing to help. Its eyes remain as strict as ever. “Of course,” it says, its voice ringing clear in the tiefling’s head rather than the atmosphere. “Whatever it is, it seems to be troubling you.”

To say the least. It’s time. Now or never. Breathe, then…

“… Why him?”

What would seem like an esoteric question to anyone listening is easily interpreted by the illithid. Him. The other tiefling. The one from Calhoun’s dreams — the one whose visage the Emperor had chosen to take during their first few visits. The one who the mere thought of seems to make Calhoun’s voice crack.

Ah, hells. This is going to be an emotional conversation… for Calhoun.

The Emperor feels nothing, however. For the moment, at least. Why should it? A means to an end — that’s the true reason. But it could never say that to Calhoun. It keeps its focus respectfully solid. “I needed you to trust me,” it answers. “You have proven with time to be sympathetic to mindflayers. But I could not have known this at first. A disguise had to be used for precaution’s sake.”

That much, Calhoun already knew. His brow furrows just the slightest bit in mild irritation, frustrated that the illithid is doing that thing it does where it withholds the most important parts of the truth while keeping its claws clean by presenting a piece of it. “That’s not what I’m asking,” he says, grumbling a bit. “I asked why him.”

Him. Tayce. The one who started it all.

The Emperor can tell quite quickly that it had accidentally tapped into something larger than itself by choosing that particular form. A risk it had considered, but the consequences of which it had assumed it would never need to face. And it wouldn’t have, honestly, if it weren’t for the fact that Calhoun is different — that Calhoun is not just an ally, but a friend.

Still, it has nothing to hide. “Because I could tell he was significant,” it answers, and that pisses Calhoun off even more. The illithid continues. “His form appeared more than once as I searched and studied your mind. In your dreams. In your memories. He was there frequently enough that I surmised it was a safe form to take. One that wouldn’t appear out of place, as might a stranger’s.”

It makes sense, logically. But Calhoun is not a logical creature. Especially in this moment, when something hot and angry is already tugging at the back of his eyes. But he won’t let it spill. Not unless he needs to.

Calhoun holds his silence for a moment to centre himself, but responds once the Emperor’s eyes flick away — disinterested, it would seem. His voice is darker than it was before. “Do you know why he was always there?” he asks. Pause. “Did you even bother to wonder?”

The answer, of course, is no, for it would have been a waste of time. But the Emperor phrases it slightly kinder when it speaks. “No, I did not. I was simply in search of the most effective route.”

It has ascended its intelligence beyond the need for curiosity. It does not care to learn what the long-haired tiefling meant to Calhoun. It is about to turn its focus away again…

When Calhoun’s eyes clench shut tightly, and he inhales heavy through his nose — a wet sound. “His name was Tayce,” he says, and the Emperor can tell that it had made a mistake. Still, it listens. And Calhoun speaks. “He was everything to me. He is the reason I am alive, and the reason I am who I am. Do you have… any idea what it did to me? To hear him speak to me again — to hug him, and hold his hand?”

The Emperor does not. But it gets the feeling it is about to learn.

Calhoun’s hands ball into tighter fists, his shoulders hunching in discomfort. Inhale again. “He was my world. He saved me from the gutters. He gave me purpose. And then he died. He died, and I was alone, and vulnerable, and scared, and— and that’s when I met Blessie.”

His patron. The lich. The one who calls himself the Unblessing. Cal’s little nickname for the creature does not lessen the weight of his presence — his mere concept — on the tiefling’s tongue. The Emperor’s eyes dart downwards awkwardly — awkward? Really? Such a petty emotion…? — then back to Calhoun. It feels… something. And that is unusual.

Calhoun swallows hard. “He came to me, as I knelt over Tayce’s corpse, and he promised me he could bring him back. He used him against me, puppeted his body, ran a cold hand down my face, promised me the power to bring him back, then— th-then—”

“You are upsetting yourself.” An observation — perhaps even a request in disguise.

But Calhoun continues. “—then our pact was sealed. And y— h-hah — you know the cruelest part? He lied to me. I never got Tayce back.

“… Until you came along, and did the exact same thing. Puppeted his body; ran a cold hand down my face. And I thought… that…”

He doesn’t know what he thought. He feels incredibly stupid right now, looking back on himself not too long ago, thinking that his friend was somehow visiting him in his dreams, encouraging him to pursue the Elder Brain and embrace the blessings of illithidness. What a damned fool he was to even consider those words — to consider the specter to be true. A fucking idiot…

The Emperor knows not what to say. This is a situation charged by emotion that is below it, and it knows that logic will not make Calhoun understand. It holds its silence, even when Calhoun trembles violently, and gasps into a sweating palm, and finally allows himself to cry. It holds its silence, and its pose, watching the tiefling fall apart.

It knows it need not speak. It knows Calhoun will not keep his silence much longer.

And he doesn’t. “I want an apology,” the tiefling says, commanding despite his pathetic pose and the way his voice warbles. “You need to know how much you hurt me, and apologize for it.”

The Emperor is not above such a thing, of course. It nods its head, then refocuses on Calhoun. “I apologize,” it says, and though it means it — as much as it can, at least — it certainly doesn’t sound like it. Its voice is unshaken, calm and kempt. “Hurting you was not my intention—”

“Right, manipulation was.”

Pause. “If that is how you see it, I will not argue, for that is close enough to the truth.”

Which doesn’t help to hear. Calhoun wants to ask why — to scream, and yell, and cry, and call it a sadistic, cruel bastard — but the Emperor can feel his intent, and it answers before he can sob the questions out: “My intent was to gain your trust. And I did. I did not consider nor care for the collateral damage it would cause, for I did not anticipate that we would remain in touch — that we would bond the way we have.”

And Calhoun continues to whine softly. It hurts. It hurts. It always has, and it always will, and hearing the Emperor explain itself only makes it hurt even more. It never cared. Perhaps it never will.

Sensing the continued distress, the Emperor attempts to remedy once more. “It is something I regret, hearing now how much he meant to you.” It says it so coldly, but isn’t that how everything it says sounds? “It is something I will not repeat again. And for what it is worth, I truly am deeply, genuinely sorry.”

It’s the most honest the illithid has ever sounded. And it drives Calhoun crazy to hear. Because despite the earnestness, the honesty, the genuine apology and care, it doesn’t help lessen the pain.

No, it doesn’t help lessen the pain.

For a while, a long pause.

Then it all but erupts out of him. A loud, wailing sob. A burying of his face in his hands. A tremble, and a gasp, and a miserable, pathetic cry. It’s something that requires a human touch — a human hand — to remedy. But the Emperor… What could it possibly offer? But then again…

It remembers, then, that time in the Astral, as its memories drifted to Duke Stelmane, and the life it once led in the city. When it sat there, lost in a haze of pain, and Calhoun had held its hand…

It remembers how much Calhoun cared — and still does care — despite everything. Despite the pain it had caused. And it remembers, then, how to be human.

Very uncharacteristically, the Emperor shifts to wrap long arms around Calhoun’s trembling shoulders, bringing him into a cold, uncomfortable embrace. But it seems to be exactly what the tiefling had needed, as his hands immediately wrap ‘round the illithid’s slender ribcage, clawing at its back in desperation for purchase. He sobs into the mindflayer’s chest. “Damn you,” Calhoun curses, burying his sorrow in the chest of the one who had caused it. “Damn you…”

And the Emperor breathes slow. “I am sorry that I am not him,” it says, pulling Calhoun closer. “But I hope that being me, for now, will suffice.

“…

“I am glad you are still here.”

The space around them is cold, as are the illithid’s arms.

They both know the pain will never go away.

And they both don’t know why, despite it all, Calhoun still wants the Emperor to stay. But after a brief moment of reflection, the Emperor realizes with much pity…

He just doesn’t want to be alone.

Even if it means being in the arms of the one who ruined him.

No, he doesn’t want to be alone…

… and neither does the Emperor.

#the emperor week #fanart #fanfic

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theemperorweek · 3 months

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"Turn left"

The Emperor inside the Nautiloid, an attempt to make sense of the opening cinematics and the various devnotes (spoiler: not easy, there seem to be two pilots or something, and none of them is the mindflayer looking like the Emperor... WHO BY THE WAY IS NOT HIM BECAUSE IT'S NOT THE RIGHT EYE COLOR EITHER OR HE'S MIND CONTROLLED)

And a reference to the title of a episode of Doctor Who, "Turn Left", and I LOVE the idea of fate changing if at one time someone had not taken a seemingly very little decision (not as in, everyday life when it could be a matter of life or death, but of meeting the right people, or wrong, etc)

#the emperor week #fanfic

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theemperorweek · 3 months

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[Evening looms, and the camp settles down. Outside your tent, muffled conversation gradually gives way to a chorus of chirping frogs and the susurrus of windblown reeds.

You lay on your bedroll and stare at the cloth above you. Beyond, the night is peaceful. Your body aches for rest, but your mind turns in useless circles. Ketheric Thorm, finally dead. Orin and Gortash, waiting in Baldur’s Gate. Wyll’s father, infected. Astarion, hunted. Karlach-

The nocturnal chorus around you suddenly swells. It rises to fill your mind, drowning your worries under the sound of waves lapping gently at the riverbank.

A scent plays across your face- warm, sweet, and musky. Vanilla. It’s the work of a moment to realize who, or rather what, is responsible.]

1. Curse the illithid. How dare it touch your mind.

2. Ignore the intrusion, try to sleep.

>>3. Allow your thoughts to turn to The Emperor

This happened because I’m in love with the idea of being able to access the prism at night and bother Emps.

Takes place shortly after Emps’ illithid reveal, and supposes that Tav did not accept the astral tadpole at that point, so now they have to argue about it again.

#the emperor week #fanfic

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theemperorweek · 3 months

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Oblodra remnant: Tav x Emp origin fic idea

House Oblodra origin https://forgottenrealms.fandom.com/wiki/House_Oblodra

Your Tav could be a drow or half-drow originally from House Oblodra, most likely a lesser-connected noble, retainer, or slave. House Oblodra is an extinct drow house that was known for its strange experiments in psionic powers and disturbing links to illithids. Approximately 130 years before the start of BG3, House Oblodra launched a coup against the other ruling houses in Menzoberranzan, the drow capital. Because weave-based magic was unreliable then, during the "Time of Troubles," House Oblodra's terrifying psionic powers left them nearly unopposed in their conquest. Lolth herself intervened to destroy Oblodra and their unnatural ways.

YOUR TAV could be a survivor of this incident, either a shock trooper (psi warrior), assassin (soulknife assassin), or perhaps a noble or noble bastard that was able to escape. How do they feel about what happened? Where did they go when they escaped?

Did they stay in the Underdark, or did they flee to the surface, and what have they been doing for the last 130 years? Did they stay connected to their psionic powers, or did they cut themselves off from it? Did they turn to other gods, or turn away from them at all? Did they try to seek out a mind flayer colony? What do they think of illithids? Bonus: What do you want to do with the in-game example of a last survivor of House Oblodra, Araj Oblodra, aka the creepy blood lady at Moonrise Towers? (Did you figure out that she wants True Soul blood for weird, illithid purposes?)

For Lae'zel: this kind of Tav and Lae'zel may actually have very similar backgrounds on how they were raised. What does Tav think of her, and how do they get along? Is Tav naturally wary of Lae'zel while wanting to be her friend? Tav has a lot to lose in this situation because even before the tadpole they were already "ghaik trash."

And, how do they react to Omeluum and the Emperor? Is a friendly illithid all they wanted, or are they more paranoid than usual? Do they commune with the astral tadpole? What do they think about all this?

Vibe ideas: Think of the post-order 66 jedi children who ran away to escape destruction, and how they attempted to blend into society and hide their powers. Some of them cut themselves off from the Force. Did you know that the psionics in dnd were influenced by Star Wars, and the "Psi Warrior" class takes direct inspiration from Darth Vader? Don't you love how nerd ideas all flow together? Or, for a love letter back to Stranger Things, which loves dnd itself, why not play with a character who could have been like Eleven?

You see it now, don't you, the fic potential for this background? Isn't this fun??

Don't worry about trying to figure out how psionics work in dnd if you don't want to mess with that. Have them class into something else, or give them a few BG3 illithid powers activated at the start. For fun, you could have the "Telepathic" feat from dnd, which is not in the game, but it allows a character to cast a free slot of Detect Thoughts without anyone knowing they did that, and they can constantly speak in the minds of others they can see within 60ft.

Anyway, have fun with that if you want it. I always enjoy making custom characters in RPGs with backgrounds that connect to the most drama when I go in to write a fic. This is the background I've chosen for my Emp-romancing Tav-- a misfit half-drow/wood-elf with murky illithid connections who was a psi warrior back in the day. He escaped to the surface and fell into the life of an adventurer, a Swords Bard who became a follower of Eilistraee. A bombastic and loving party animal whose mind-reading powers have made him very understanding of other people's bullshit, and very suited to solving all these weirdos' personal problems.

Like all good ideas, I find they are best when shared, and there are infinite permutations to how they can play out. So I lovingly offer this up for you, to see what you do with it, just as people all have a different Durge. I hope you consider this and feel free to ping me if you do. Go have fun out there.

Here's your lore link again:

#the emperor week

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