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dnd_drow

Dataset card Data Studio Files
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"Guard the entrance to the Upper City," she responded. "If you hear a horn, please follow it. It’ll be a request for backup. Wyll, Astarion, Shadowheart and I will be heading to the Netherbrain with the Emperor." She nodded towards the Mindflayer that kept its distance.
It was deeply unsettling to Zevlor that the Mindflayer was all that kept him from turning into one himself, and further unsettling that it was once Balduran. The city’s founder was what they were setting out to destroy.
Nothing in this world made sense to him anymore except for the woman in front of him.
"Whatever you need. I’m glad you trust me enough to support you."
"Zevlor," her voice lost its commanding edge but struck him still, "I trust you to the edges of the Outer Planes."
Her gauntlet pressed itself on his armour over his heart. It might as well have been her skin touching his; the way his heart leapt to his throat.
Slowly, he settled his old Hellrider’s gauntlet over hers. The only part of her that he could see was her facial features under all the armour she bore but it was enough to be hopeless for.
"If I don’t sound for you, I’ll see you on the other side," she whispered.
It was strange, the need that pulsed through him. Strong – overwhelming even – to gently lean forward and press his lips against hers. He was usually good at containing his urges, whatever desires he had. It was drilled into him as a Hellrider before he even became a Commander. His needs came second to the innocents ar...
But here and now, on the edge of the world’s end, he failed to stop himself. He kissed her.
A gasp emanated from her, and for a moment Zevlor thought he had wildly misread the situation, until he felt her kiss back.
It was tender. Far more tender than the moment should allow, than he should ever have, but it was there.
They slowly parted and he was not sure if that was his best move right before a battle. His head felt woozy and his limbs clumsy, but he managed to get himself together for one last comment:
"For good luck."
A ghost of a smile flickered across Hintha’s lips, her eyes already hardening back to their determined state. "For good luck," she echoed, squeezing their conjoined hands once more, before parting back to her companions.
Zevlor shook his head, feeling his hair brush against his neck, before turning back to his men. Jaheira, Nine-Fingers, and Grand Duke Ravengard joined their own forces. A strategy was confirmed, hands shook, and they parted.
They all had a part to play if Hintha and her companions were to survive even the journey to the Netherbrain.
And by the Gods, was Zevlor about to play his.
A resounding crack and psychic screech alerted Zevlor that the tides had turned. The strike of his greatsword faltered mid-swing against one of the numerous Mindflayers. It forced him to his knees and scattered his sword. Fortunately, it seemed that the screech had the exact same response to his foe but more so.
Its head erupted.
"Helm-!" Zevlor spluttered and staggered back his feet for a moment, only to collapse again when something imploded behind his left eye.
He howled and collapsed again, clutching his eye with one bloody hand. Something gritty and greasy built up behind his eye and began to ooze out of his socket. It felt like sandpaper rubbed against his eye as it dribbled outwards.
The pod felt better than this.
"Godsdammit!" he cried.
The ooze eventually leaked from his eye and fell with a splat on the cobbles below. His one good eye widened. The tadpole, or what was left of it, was deceased on the ground below him.
A shadow loomed over him with shocking speed and hurtled towards the harbour.
The Netherbrain. It was descending, no, falling.
Something violently worked its way through his throat, a sob. Tears ran down his wounded cheeks but curved around his crazed smile.
Hintha was successful.
The thought of her snapped Zevlor back into his body. Not all the sounds of violence had dissipated. While the main foe had been defeated, there were still innocents who needed protection.
With renewed energy, he sprung to his feet and barrelled towards the Lower City.
Civilians and warriors alike had the remaining Mindflayers on the back foot down here, and he inspired them further. His greatsword cleaved with little effort, all his senses firing on all cylinders.
It brought him back to a moment in time before Elturel even fell. When this was how every battle felt with the Hellriders. Glorious, ethereal, mighty-
Something had shifted in his chest. The hole where his oath resided once had grown a little smaller. Another tear crawled down his face. There was hope for him after all.
The noise of battle had ceased with one last swing of his sword and the crunch of a Mindflayer’s head hitting the ground. Fires still burned and buildings still crumbled slowly, but it did not matter. They had won. Places could be rebuilt; wounds could be mended.
Pain began to blossom all over his body as the adrenaline declined. He was no pretty picture of health with blood seeping from the cracks in his armour. Dust coated his back from when he was thrown into a fallen building. Gunk, or whatever Mindflayers bled, was stuck to his face and neck. But he was alive.
And from the figures he could see clambering up onto a dock, his dearest was too.
It was agonizing having to weave through the buildings to get to her. Rubble had destroyed the once clear walkways to the dock. Already strained muscles burned from his sprint but it mattered not. He would only rest again with her in his arms.
Hintha had her back turned to him, watching as Wyll and Karlach disappeared in a plume of smoke on the end of the pier. Astarion swayed violently, the sound of skin crackling even meeting the Commander’s ears, and the spawn bolted to the shadows. Shadowheart and Lae’zel burst off after him. Gale was almost knocked over...
Zevlor was never going to be the man who made loud public gestures of affection. His cheeks normally blistered at the idea of holding her hand in private, let alone in front of her companions.
"Hintha!" he yelled as he descended the last flight of stairs. She spun around, glistening with sweat and blood, her jaw slightly open.
"Zevlor!" she cried in return and raced towards him.
But for a moment, just for today, Zevlor was going to be that man.
A horrific clashing noise emanated from their chest plates colliding. His arms trapped her in a vice grip and picked her off the ground. Her arms wrapped around his neck with her talons finding his hair that had long slipped from its usual confides.
Hot tears hit his neck but he was sure she was equally getting drenched. They did not move nor speak as they clung to one another.
It was over. It was all over. They were free from the tadpoles, from the horrors that plagued them for the past several months.
Never again did he have to worry about them parting. There was no need to leave her now. There was nothing they needed to rush to do, no enemy that defied them, nothing that stood in their way.
Though his feelings were strong about the woman in his arms, he gently set her back down on the ground. The events of the day were catching up to him again after he had her in his arms. His muscles were horrendously abused and he would not forgive himself if he dropped the heroine of Baldur’s Gate now.
Zevlor pulled his head away from her shoulder to look at her face properly again. Bruised and bloodied, it was still a site to behold.
"My dear," the words spilt from his tongue before he realized the endearment. It did not matter. "I-"
Hintha silenced him by pulling him down with the arms around his neck and kissing him.
It was not with the same tenderness they shared hours ago. It was an out-of-practice and desperate kiss. A kiss that screamed that they were alive, and so, so grateful for it. He returned the energy doubled and just as out-of-practice.
Zevlor was not sure if he ever felt more alive or elated.
"Oh, that is painful to look at," Jaheira hissed. "You two kiss like children who have only read about kissing in trashy novellas."
The druid’s voice broke the trance they were in. Heat scorned their cheeks in an instant. Zevlor’s arms did not move from around Hintha’s armoured waist even as she turned to face the two druids, the wizard, and the ranger.
"B-Be quiet, you!" Hintha tried to scold, but her words came out with no heat. Jaheira laughed and waved a hand at them.
"With the way the Commander is holding you, cub, I think you will relearn in time. That’s the hold of a tiefling that will not leave you alone."
"Jaheira, I think your teasing has gone quite far enough," Gale intervened. "While your point about their kissing is not entirely incorrect, I think saving the world has given our darling Matron at least an excuse this time."
"I still can’t believe you call Hintha the darling Matron when she is but a child in elf years," Jaheira grumbled and threw her hands up. "But whatever, I did not see a love bite like I had ordered so this is an improvement, I guess. Come Minsc, we should let the young things practice some more."
Minsc bellowed out a laugh and clapped his hands. "Ah, Jaheira, always so wise and vocal! I suppose that comes with your age, da?"
Jaheira scorned him again as they left but as always, she hardly meant it.
"I’ll take that as my cue to leave as well if you don’t mind," Gale chimed in. His eyes flickered towards the Chionthar. "Besides, someone needs to start looking for that blasted Crown before it ends up in the wrong hands." The wizard rubbed his dirty hands together. "But there is going to be plenty of well-deserved me...
"Although it would be understandable if you wished for nature to take its course," Halsin interrupted. "I have seen the way you both look at each other when the other is occupied. It would be a sight to behold so we shan’t stop nature if it burns brightly enough."
Intense heat reeking of embarrassment burst from both tieflings.
"B-By the Gods, Halsin!" Hintha spluttered loudly; Zevlor echoing her cry with his own stammering.
Gale’s ears turned a deep red and he laid a hand on the unbothered elf. "Now, now, Halsin, if it took the two of them this long to kiss, then you might need another world-ending threat to get them... there. B-But that does not matter! Off with you, old man."
Halsin smiled kindly, his eyes still suggestive, but allowed himself to be led off by Gale. Hintha shied away from the men and looked out over the Chionthar.
"Bahamut’s scales," she whispered through her teeth before sighing. She briefly glanced at Zevlor out of the corner of her eye as her fingers nervously toyed with the hairs on the back of his neck. "I know it’s been an age but... it was not that bad... right?"
Her comments diluted the intensity of his embarrassment. He loosened his arms and brought a hand to the side of her face. "N-Not at all! I, too, um, haven’t partaken in something like that for years. Even longer than that, or never potentially, with that... eagerness."
A sliver of tension was released from her shoulders. His heart palpitated as she leaned her face slightly into his touch.
"I don’t think I’ve ever been more relieved to see a man alive before," she admitted softly.
He brushed some grime off her cheek only to replace it with the grime on his gauntlet. Her words were making him delirious and encouraged him to act without thought.
"I’ve never been more relieved to see a woman alive," he returned and lost to the urge to brush his lips against her forehead. She sighed at his touch.
"We should head back, as lovely as this is. There are still fires to put out and rubble to clear."
"You’re right," he hummed and gently pried himself away. His body ached with her touch gone. "I’ll round up the Hellriders to assist."
Zevlor went to move away, but Hintha’s hand caught his own instantly. Her eyes for a moment looked vulnerable. "I... I would rather you not leave my sight, dear. Can I join you?"
The hole in his chest shrunk a little further at the endearment. "Of course."
Together, sheepish but battered, they walked towards the inner part of the Lower City.
Together, at last hand in hand.
Standing on the precipice of the Grand Hall, Zevlor looked out over the dying city. The finale had finally dawned with several Nautiloids and Mindflayers tearing at the sky. It felt wrong to be standing idle while mayhem unfolded around them, but he knew this was where he was supposed to be. Everyone, including the Har...
The two parties had worked in parallel but never overlapped. Zevlor was forced to reinstate his title of Commander of the Hellriders to his unworthy shoulders. There were days of smoking out smaller groups of the Absolute and finding other shattered bands of righteous warriors. Hintha and her group were tackling more p...
A sense of duty was welcomed. He could almost forget the suffering he had inflicted over the past years until he saw one of the other refugees he had failed so miserably. Keeping to the dank alleys and the underground catacombs was easier than dealing with the ache where his oath was.
Though it was misery waking up in a bed alone. It was not much, that night he had spent with Hintha. All things considered, it was incredibly tame. Jaheira had jammed the door and despite their best efforts, they could not open it without causing incredible damage. After much debating, with her spluttering arguments we...
At first, there was a gap between them, but when he awoke briefly in the night, he felt her face pressed against his chest. Her soft snores were a lullaby. When he awoke the second time to the dawn, she had moved further on top of him with his arms wrapped snuggly around her.
It was the best sleep he had in years, despite how his body creaked afterwards.
And how could he forget how gorgeous her sheepishness was?
But the past meant nothing if the future did not come tomorrow.
As the Flaming Fist captain spoke, the doors were thrown open with both her hands.
Hintha, adorned in her half plate, shield, and mace, stood. Her usual companions were equally assembled in leather and plate, with powerful magic pulsing from their weapons.
She heaved a deep breath and stormed inside. Eyes blazed with fierceness unknown to Zevlor before as she rallied their allies. A cheer erupted from the ranks and a new energy was sparked.
He rolled his shoulders, feeling his armour creak with his motions. It had been a long time since he had donned the ceremonial parts of a Commander’s set but it was necessary. He had become their unwitting leader now and he had always known that looks inspired more than most gave credit for.
And by the Gods, something stirred in him when he saw the confident stride of Hintha come towards him.
She had looked beautiful when he held her a tenday ago despite being soaking wet and dishevelled. Now though, she looked otherworldly. A match to Dame Aylin.
"Commander Zevlor," she spoke.
He smiled slightly. "I’ve told you before, please call me Zevlor."
She laughed, a melodious sound that was terribly out of place considering their situation, but warmed his bones. "I’m surprised you’re thinking of that now," she scolded but there was no ire to her voice. "As much as I would love to indulge in memories, we need to focus on the now."
He straightened. "Of course. What is it that you need of me and my men?"
My men. It still felt wrong.
"Guard the entrance to the Upper City," she responded. "If you hear a horn, please follow it. It’ll be a request for backup. Wyll, Astarion, Shadowheart and I will be heading to the Netherbrain with the Emperor." She nodded towards the Mindflayer that kept its distance.
It was deeply unsettling to Zevlor that the Mindflayer was all that kept him from turning into one himself, and further unsettling that it was once Balduran. The city’s founder was what they were setting out to destroy.