mickume/dnd_drow · Datasets at Hugging Face

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"You are one of the most intelligent, perceptive, and frightening women I know." Aethelle laughed softly as she began delicately braiding her hair. "And you are my greatest friend."
"Thank you," replied Shadowheart, the tears welling in her eyes.
The sorceress’s fingers deftly worked the long strands of silver, beginning to craft delicate braids into an updo atop her head.
"This reminds me of Nocturne, do you remember? My friend, the one I had when I was young," said Shadowheart softly.
"Of course, how could I forget?" said Aethelle, her eyes fixated on a particular braid she was fiddling with. "I thought you might want to have someone do your hair again."
"There! What do you think?" The sorceress looked on, proud of her work. The braids wrapped around Shadowheart’s head, before expertly laying atop her in a braided crown. Her bangs, swept to the side, were left out of the updo, but the sorceress had smoothed the edges out to look a tad more refined.
"It’s beautiful." The cleric felt her smile widen.
"Wait! I forgot something!" Shadowheart laughed at the sight of the naked sorceress running to the armoire. Aethelle fumbled with a few drawers before finding a silver headpiece adorned with dainty sapphires and diamonds. She ran back to Shadowheart, eliciting a deeper laugh from her this time, before working the circlet around her forehead and through the braids.
"There! It will look lovely with your dress."
Shadowheart turned around, and reached for Aethelle’s hand.
"Gods, are they ready yet? They certainly took long enough," huffed Ryn. He crossed his arms as he impatiently waited in the ballroom, the sunset spilling in from the windows of the Veluthezara estate.
"Oh hush, let them live a little," smiled Gale.
"I would say for all of our adventures of late, we definitely got the best one of the group," smirked Astarion.
The three men stood clad in similar outfits, expertly tailored to them each. They wore velvet, double-breasted tailcoats, albeit each in a different luxurious color. Ryn wore an indigo coat, followed by Gale’s dark amethyst, and Astarion’s maroon. The cravats they wore were a pristine white, in contrast to the black slacks they wore, tucked neatly into black knee-high boots. Their hair was neatly done, including Ryn’s, much to the surprise of the other two men. His ginger hair was tucked neatly into a bun behind his head, a feat only one of his sisters could have completed successfully.
"Well, it’s certainly not armor," Shadowheart muttered as she emerged from the hallway, smoothing her dress down. The three dapper men looked over at her. Ryn felt his cheeks warm, and averted the cleric’s eyes.
Shadowheart’s silver hair was braided intricately into a regal crown. Woven between the strands was the circlet Aethelle had given her, the delicate sapphires and diamonds matching the sapphire hanging from a silver chain round her neck. The cleric wore a silk midnight blue dress with silver brocade adorning the corset. Her sleeves started at the top of her bust, leaving her shoulders bare. The bell shapes of her sleeves ended at her elbows, where the fabric then clung tightly up to her wrist. Silver brocade ran up and down the sleeves, matching the embroidery on the corset. Her eyeshadow, no longer her usual grungy black, was now a navy blended precisely across her lids. A gentle muted pink ran across her lips.
"Well, if it isn’t our usually much dirtier cleric!" smiled Gale.
"Quiet, or I will smite you here and now," hissed Shadowheart.
"I barely recognized you, Shadowheart!" laughed Astarion, taking a punch to his arm from the already irritated cleric.
"As usual, Aethelle is last to be ready," groaned the paladin. "You know, once we were so late, that when we got to our destination—"
"It is a fashionable late, we don’t have to be early all the time!" interrupted the sorceress as she hurried down the stairs, fiddling with an earring. "Shut up!"
Astarion forgot to exhale for a moment as Aethelle descended the stairs. Her raven hair was mostly braided into a bun, with the exception of a few curls that fell onto her exposed back and a few curls framing her face. The golden teardrop earrings she was fiddling with matched the diamond encrusted tiara atop her head and the necklace Ryn had once gifted her.
Her black velvet gown started at the top of her bust, where fabric pooled and draped around her shoulders and back. The corset caught the pooled fabric once more, cinching it tightly to her body. This time, there was no embroidery or brocade upon her gown; only the obsidian black velvet graced her skin. The dress draped down her legs in a similarly flowing fashion to Shadowheart’s gown. Her arms were covered by two silken ivory gloves, running up above her elbows. As she neared, the vampire was once again lost to a crashing wave of vanilla and amber.
"Ah, lovely necklace, my Lady," smiled Ryn.
"Thank you, my Lord."
"Now, are you quite ready?"
The sorceress sighed. "About as ready as I’ll ever be."
As the companions began their way out the door, and Astarion waited for a moment until him and Aethelle were the last two to leave. He pulled her aside to whisper softly in her ear.
"You look lovely, my dear." He wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her cheek.
"You look quite right," she whispered back. Astarion looked at her only to be met with her smug smirk.
They continued outside with the others, hiding that they were holding each other's hands behind their backs down the gravel path. The sun was all but gone now, the deep blue sky spilling over orange haze. Ryn offered a hand to help Shadowheart into the carriage, followed by Aethelle. Once the two women sat, the three men followed them in. The five of them sat together as they heard the horses trot down the cobble street, the carriage lurching down the road.
"How am I supposed to fight in this?" groaned Ryn, fiddling with his coat.
"It’s actually quite easy," remarked Gale. Aethelle nodded in agreement.
"No shit, you damned mages."
"For once, I agree with Ryn," griped Shadowheart. She looked over at Aethelle inquisitively. "What am I supposed to do if I get cold?"
"Down the champagne, of course." The sorceress grinned.
"Is that how you survive these things?" asked the cleric in disbelief. "You just get drunk?"
"Yup," Ryn and Aethelle replied in unison.
"Perhaps save it tonight, so nobody misses their strikes or spells," remarked Gale.
"I don’t know, it could certainly make the whole thing more fun," said the vampire with his wicked smile.
"Ryn, is that bag of holding under that coat somewhere?" asked Aethelle.
"Yes. Why, do you want the sword or the flask?"
"I think you know the answer to that."
"We are not drinking before the fight!" yelled an exasperated Gale.
"Why not?" the paladin, sorceress, and rogue asked in unison.
"Damn it all." Gale rubbed his brow. "Fine. Whatever in there better be good!"
After a bit of digging below his coat, Ryn pulled out a silver flask, taking a quick swig.
"I suppose it could definitely ease the nerves. What’s the harm?" asked Shadowheart, taking the flask from Ryn's hand, and taking a drink herself.
"Exactly!" said Aethelle as Shadowheart handed the flask to her. "Nothing a little liquid courage won’t help." She took a gulp of the clear, odorless liquid, and handed it to Astarion.
The rogue eagerly took a swig. "A fine vodka, indeed. You’d like it, Gale. It doesn’t burn like I imagine the orb does in your throat." He grinned, handing the wizard the flask.
"You are so funny, Astarion," said Gale dryly as he took the final drink.
"I do admit, that was one of his better ones," replied Shadowheart.
"One of my better ones?" Astarion’s voice was full of exaggerated shock and resentment. "What do you mean? All my jokes are great!"
The carriage came to a halt.
"Thank the gods," muttered Gale. "Everybody out, before I change my mind about blowing this damn carriage up."
As the companions exited the carriage, they found themselves in an exquisite garden, softly lit amongst the torches, leading up to the massive stone mansion. Windows decorated each wall, trailing with vines and roses. There were many nobles present, talking and laughing amongst the hedges at they walked their way up to the tall brass doors of the home.
Aethelle, suddenly finding herself out of the safety of the carriage, caught her breath for a moment. She suddenly felt thrust into her hell once more. Everything was as she remembered it, for better or worse.
"Aethelle," whispered Ryn, "Let’s go. They’re watching. You can do this."
She suddenly snapped to her senses. He was right. The other nobles began to whisper and stare as the Lady Veluthezara graced the Zantharen grounds, a feat no one had ever expected to occur again. Astarion took her arm, and smiled warmly at her.
"We will meet you three inside," said Aethelle, regaining herself.
"Don’t kill him without us," grinned the paladin.
"We will see you soon," said Shadowheart, nodding firmly.
Astarion and Aethelle walked cautiously through the garden. The whispers around them became much more pronounced.
"Is that the Lady Veluthezara? Here? With a different suitor?" a nearby lady exclaimed a tad too loudly.
"The ballroom tonight is shaping up to be dramatic, indeed," the lady’s friend next to her snickered.
"He is a handsome Lord, though. Leave it to the Lady to bring someone to arouse jealousy," the loud lady replied.
"He rejected her years ago, he won’t be jealous! Now, shut up and tell me how I look. If anyone is going to wed the Viscount, it’s me!" giggled the friend.
Aethelle couldn’t help but laugh. "The way they throw themselves at him. If only they really knew."
"At least they know one thing," smirked the rogue. "I am quite handsome, I admit."
"Perhaps too handsome," the sorceress replied in a rich tone. "What is stopping me from finding some vacant room for us to hide away in?"
"Oh my dear, don’t tempt me," growled Astarion.
The couple walked up to the footman at the door.
"Lady Veluthezara, please find yourself most welcome." The man opened the doors to the foyer, and the two walked inside.
Astarion looked around at the grandeur of the home. The floor was a cream marble, tastefully contrasting the emerald green of the walls. The molding of the walls was gold, and matched the embroidered green and gold drapery along the windows. A few steps ahead of them was the grand ballroom, where several nobles were dancing away from the tables of food and champagne. Beautiful flower arrangements lined the walls and tables. Portraits of black haired elves lined the walls, looking down ominously at the nobles inside.
"Ah, how gaudy," retorted Astarion.
"Indeed," sighed Aethelle. "Hells."
The black-haired elf walked his way up to the two lovers. His double-breasted coat was a dark green, with an ivory cravat tucked into it. His black slacks were tucked perfectly into black boots. He had a wicked smile on his face as he approached.
"Good to see you both again," said Torriel pompously. "Will you do me the honor of giving me your first dance, Aethelflaed? Surely you would not decline, unless you want the nobility to drag your name through the mud."
"I suppose not," muttered the sorceress. She shot Astarion a glance, before walking away to the ballroom floor. He looked helplessly to her, cursing the man that tormented her so.
"Baron Faennawedd, do find yourself and your guests most welcome," said the footman at the door. Astarion turned around to see his three companions enter the foyer. Ryn charismatically patted the footman on the shoulder. Gale and Shadowheart ogled the grand home upon their entry.
"Gods, don’t tell me he already got to her," hissed Ryn. Astarion nodded to the floor, and the two elves stood to begin their dance.
"Shit," whispered Shadowheart.
"You two must distance yourselves now," Ryn whispered to the cleric and the wizard. "We cannot give him any inkling that you two are with us."
Gale nodded and offered his arm to Shadowheart. They distanced themselves from the rogue and the paladin, finding a corner of the room to stand, drink champagne, and watch.
"I hate to see her with him," whispered Shadowheart.
"So do I," replied Gale, now eagerly drinking.
"Could she not say no?" asked the cleric.
"I imagine not. It would have been quite improper for her to reject him," explained the wizard. "She had quite a fascinating book in her library on the customs of Baldurian nobility. Apparently they could ruin her just for turning down a dance."
"Primitive, if you ask me," replied Shadowheart dryly.
Astarion and Ryn looked helplessly to the two elves dancing.
"For what it is worth, Astarion," began the paladin, leaning into the rogue while watching the Viscount and the Lady. "I owe you a great debt."
"I would normally be overjoyed to hear such words, but why?" asked Astarion, his eyes never leaving his lover.
"For giving her such happiness."
Astarion’s eyes widened for a moment.
"You owe me no debt, paladin," began the vampire. "It is not a chore for me to love her. It’s my greatest honor."
"Somehow, you are the most honorable vampire I have ever met," smirked Ryn.
"And probably the only one," chuckled Astarion.
The raven haired elves floated around the ballroom floor, moving endlessly between each other. Amongst the other nobles dancing, the pair stood out like none other.
"I'm sure you have realized by now why I have truly brought you here, my dear Aeth," he whispered into her ear as they waltzed around the room.
"You mean to finally take the rest of my power for yourself, I'm sure," replied Aethelle. "And you mean to hopefully drain me mentally as an affront for this silly ball."

"You are one of the most intelligent, perceptive, and frightening women I know." Aethelle laughed softly as she began delicately braiding her hair. "And you are my greatest friend."

"Thank you," replied Shadowheart, the tears welling in her eyes.

The sorceress’s fingers deftly worked the long strands of silver, beginning to craft delicate braids into an updo atop her head.

"This reminds me of Nocturne, do you remember? My friend, the one I had when I was young," said Shadowheart softly.

"Of course, how could I forget?" said Aethelle, her eyes fixated on a particular braid she was fiddling with. "I thought you might want to have someone do your hair again."

"There! What do you think?" The sorceress looked on, proud of her work. The braids wrapped around Shadowheart’s head, before expertly laying atop her in a braided crown. Her bangs, swept to the side, were left out of the updo, but the sorceress had smoothed the edges out to look a tad more refined.

"It’s beautiful." The cleric felt her smile widen.

"Wait! I forgot something!" Shadowheart laughed at the sight of the naked sorceress running to the armoire. Aethelle fumbled with a few drawers before finding a silver headpiece adorned with dainty sapphires and diamonds. She ran back to Shadowheart, eliciting a deeper laugh from her this time, before working the circlet around her forehead and through the braids.

"There! It will look lovely with your dress."

Shadowheart turned around, and reached for Aethelle’s hand.

"Gods, are they ready yet? They certainly took long enough," huffed Ryn. He crossed his arms as he impatiently waited in the ballroom, the sunset spilling in from the windows of the Veluthezara estate.

"Oh hush, let them live a little," smiled Gale.

"I would say for all of our adventures of late, we definitely got the best one of the group," smirked Astarion.

The three men stood clad in similar outfits, expertly tailored to them each. They wore velvet, double-breasted tailcoats, albeit each in a different luxurious color. Ryn wore an indigo coat, followed by Gale’s dark amethyst, and Astarion’s maroon. The cravats they wore were a pristine white, in contrast to the black slacks they wore, tucked neatly into black knee-high boots. Their hair was neatly done, including Ryn’s, much to the surprise of the other two men. His ginger hair was tucked neatly into a bun behind his head, a feat only one of his sisters could have completed successfully.

"Well, it’s certainly not armor," Shadowheart muttered as she emerged from the hallway, smoothing her dress down. The three dapper men looked over at her. Ryn felt his cheeks warm, and averted the cleric’s eyes.

Shadowheart’s silver hair was braided intricately into a regal crown. Woven between the strands was the circlet Aethelle had given her, the delicate sapphires and diamonds matching the sapphire hanging from a silver chain round her neck. The cleric wore a silk midnight blue dress with silver brocade adorning the corset. Her sleeves started at the top of her bust, leaving her shoulders bare. The bell shapes of her sleeves ended at her elbows, where the fabric then clung tightly up to her wrist. Silver brocade ran up and down the sleeves, matching the embroidery on the corset. Her eyeshadow, no longer her usual grungy black, was now a navy blended precisely across her lids. A gentle muted pink ran across her lips.

"Well, if it isn’t our usually much dirtier cleric!" smiled Gale.

"Quiet, or I will smite you here and now," hissed Shadowheart.

"I barely recognized you, Shadowheart!" laughed Astarion, taking a punch to his arm from the already irritated cleric.

"As usual, Aethelle is last to be ready," groaned the paladin. "You know, once we were so late, that when we got to our destination—"

"It is a fashionable late, we don’t have to be early all the time!" interrupted the sorceress as she hurried down the stairs, fiddling with an earring. "Shut up!"

Astarion forgot to exhale for a moment as Aethelle descended the stairs. Her raven hair was mostly braided into a bun, with the exception of a few curls that fell onto her exposed back and a few curls framing her face. The golden teardrop earrings she was fiddling with matched the diamond encrusted tiara atop her head and the necklace Ryn had once gifted her.

Her black velvet gown started at the top of her bust, where fabric pooled and draped around her shoulders and back. The corset caught the pooled fabric once more, cinching it tightly to her body. This time, there was no embroidery or brocade upon her gown; only the obsidian black velvet graced her skin. The dress draped down her legs in a similarly flowing fashion to Shadowheart’s gown. Her arms were covered by two silken ivory gloves, running up above her elbows. As she neared, the vampire was once again lost to a crashing wave of vanilla and amber.

"Ah, lovely necklace, my Lady," smiled Ryn.

"Thank you, my Lord."

"Now, are you quite ready?"

The sorceress sighed. "About as ready as I’ll ever be."

As the companions began their way out the door, and Astarion waited for a moment until him and Aethelle were the last two to leave. He pulled her aside to whisper softly in her ear.

"You look lovely, my dear." He wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her cheek.

"You look quite right," she whispered back. Astarion looked at her only to be met with her smug smirk.

They continued outside with the others, hiding that they were holding each other's hands behind their backs down the gravel path. The sun was all but gone now, the deep blue sky spilling over orange haze. Ryn offered a hand to help Shadowheart into the carriage, followed by Aethelle. Once the two women sat, the three men followed them in. The five of them sat together as they heard the horses trot down the cobble street, the carriage lurching down the road.

"How am I supposed to fight in this?" groaned Ryn, fiddling with his coat.

"It’s actually quite easy," remarked Gale. Aethelle nodded in agreement.

"No shit, you damned mages."

"For once, I agree with Ryn," griped Shadowheart. She looked over at Aethelle inquisitively. "What am I supposed to do if I get cold?"

"Down the champagne, of course." The sorceress grinned.

"Is that how you survive these things?" asked the cleric in disbelief. "You just get drunk?"

"Yup," Ryn and Aethelle replied in unison.

"Perhaps save it tonight, so nobody misses their strikes or spells," remarked Gale.

"I don’t know, it could certainly make the whole thing more fun," said the vampire with his wicked smile.

"Ryn, is that bag of holding under that coat somewhere?" asked Aethelle.

"Yes. Why, do you want the sword or the flask?"

"I think you know the answer to that."

"We are not drinking before the fight!" yelled an exasperated Gale.

"Why not?" the paladin, sorceress, and rogue asked in unison.

"Damn it all." Gale rubbed his brow. "Fine. Whatever in there better be good!"

After a bit of digging below his coat, Ryn pulled out a silver flask, taking a quick swig.

"I suppose it could definitely ease the nerves. What’s the harm?" asked Shadowheart, taking the flask from Ryn's hand, and taking a drink herself.

"Exactly!" said Aethelle as Shadowheart handed the flask to her. "Nothing a little liquid courage won’t help." She took a gulp of the clear, odorless liquid, and handed it to Astarion.

The rogue eagerly took a swig. "A fine vodka, indeed. You’d like it, Gale. It doesn’t burn like I imagine the orb does in your throat." He grinned, handing the wizard the flask.

"You are so funny, Astarion," said Gale dryly as he took the final drink.

"I do admit, that was one of his better ones," replied Shadowheart.

"One of my better ones?" Astarion’s voice was full of exaggerated shock and resentment. "What do you mean? All my jokes are great!"

The carriage came to a halt.

"Thank the gods," muttered Gale. "Everybody out, before I change my mind about blowing this damn carriage up."

As the companions exited the carriage, they found themselves in an exquisite garden, softly lit amongst the torches, leading up to the massive stone mansion. Windows decorated each wall, trailing with vines and roses. There were many nobles present, talking and laughing amongst the hedges at they walked their way up to the tall brass doors of the home.

Aethelle, suddenly finding herself out of the safety of the carriage, caught her breath for a moment. She suddenly felt thrust into her hell once more. Everything was as she remembered it, for better or worse.

"Aethelle," whispered Ryn, "Let’s go. They’re watching. You can do this."

She suddenly snapped to her senses. He was right. The other nobles began to whisper and stare as the Lady Veluthezara graced the Zantharen grounds, a feat no one had ever expected to occur again. Astarion took her arm, and smiled warmly at her.

"We will meet you three inside," said Aethelle, regaining herself.

"Don’t kill him without us," grinned the paladin.

"We will see you soon," said Shadowheart, nodding firmly.

Astarion and Aethelle walked cautiously through the garden. The whispers around them became much more pronounced.

"Is that the Lady Veluthezara? Here? With a different suitor?" a nearby lady exclaimed a tad too loudly.

"The ballroom tonight is shaping up to be dramatic, indeed," the lady’s friend next to her snickered.

"He is a handsome Lord, though. Leave it to the Lady to bring someone to arouse jealousy," the loud lady replied.

"He rejected her years ago, he won’t be jealous! Now, shut up and tell me how I look. If anyone is going to wed the Viscount, it’s me!" giggled the friend.

Aethelle couldn’t help but laugh. "The way they throw themselves at him. If only they really knew."

"At least they know one thing," smirked the rogue. "I am quite handsome, I admit."

"Perhaps too handsome," the sorceress replied in a rich tone. "What is stopping me from finding some vacant room for us to hide away in?"

"Oh my dear, don’t tempt me," growled Astarion.

The couple walked up to the footman at the door.

"Lady Veluthezara, please find yourself most welcome." The man opened the doors to the foyer, and the two walked inside.

Astarion looked around at the grandeur of the home. The floor was a cream marble, tastefully contrasting the emerald green of the walls. The molding of the walls was gold, and matched the embroidered green and gold drapery along the windows. A few steps ahead of them was the grand ballroom, where several nobles were dancing away from the tables of food and champagne. Beautiful flower arrangements lined the walls and tables. Portraits of black haired elves lined the walls, looking down ominously at the nobles inside.

"Ah, how gaudy," retorted Astarion.

"Indeed," sighed Aethelle. "Hells."

The black-haired elf walked his way up to the two lovers. His double-breasted coat was a dark green, with an ivory cravat tucked into it. His black slacks were tucked perfectly into black boots. He had a wicked smile on his face as he approached.

"Good to see you both again," said Torriel pompously. "Will you do me the honor of giving me your first dance, Aethelflaed? Surely you would not decline, unless you want the nobility to drag your name through the mud."

"I suppose not," muttered the sorceress. She shot Astarion a glance, before walking away to the ballroom floor. He looked helplessly to her, cursing the man that tormented her so.

"Baron Faennawedd, do find yourself and your guests most welcome," said the footman at the door. Astarion turned around to see his three companions enter the foyer. Ryn charismatically patted the footman on the shoulder. Gale and Shadowheart ogled the grand home upon their entry.

"Gods, don’t tell me he already got to her," hissed Ryn. Astarion nodded to the floor, and the two elves stood to begin their dance.

"Shit," whispered Shadowheart.

"You two must distance yourselves now," Ryn whispered to the cleric and the wizard. "We cannot give him any inkling that you two are with us."

Gale nodded and offered his arm to Shadowheart. They distanced themselves from the rogue and the paladin, finding a corner of the room to stand, drink champagne, and watch.

"I hate to see her with him," whispered Shadowheart.

"So do I," replied Gale, now eagerly drinking.

"Could she not say no?" asked the cleric.

"I imagine not. It would have been quite improper for her to reject him," explained the wizard. "She had quite a fascinating book in her library on the customs of Baldurian nobility. Apparently they could ruin her just for turning down a dance."

"Primitive, if you ask me," replied Shadowheart dryly.

Astarion and Ryn looked helplessly to the two elves dancing.

"For what it is worth, Astarion," began the paladin, leaning into the rogue while watching the Viscount and the Lady. "I owe you a great debt."

"I would normally be overjoyed to hear such words, but why?" asked Astarion, his eyes never leaving his lover.

"For giving her such happiness."

Astarion’s eyes widened for a moment.

"You owe me no debt, paladin," began the vampire. "It is not a chore for me to love her. It’s my greatest honor."

"Somehow, you are the most honorable vampire I have ever met," smirked Ryn.

"And probably the only one," chuckled Astarion.

The raven haired elves floated around the ballroom floor, moving endlessly between each other. Amongst the other nobles dancing, the pair stood out like none other.

"I'm sure you have realized by now why I have truly brought you here, my dear Aeth," he whispered into her ear as they waltzed around the room.

"You mean to finally take the rest of my power for yourself, I'm sure," replied Aethelle. "And you mean to hopefully drain me mentally as an affront for this silly ball."