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#read: lolth's warrior
baldursyourgate · 6 months
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State of the noble drow houses after the event of "Lolth's Warrior" — a Drizzt novel possibly set very closely before the events of Baldur's Gate 3.
note: the first book stated that it was set in 1490, two years before the events of BG3 (1492), it is not state clearly how long time has passed by the 3rd book (Lolth's Warrior), but I got an ask on here said it's set in 1491. Take it as you will.
Might be helpful if you have a drow noble Tav who's from one of the existing noble houses (and is romancing Minthara, who's from house Baenre, who had amazing insults for house DeVir in game)
To recap: The houses were in a civil war, one side fought against Lolth and her grip on drow (house Baenre and their allies: house Do'Urden/Xorlarrin, house Fey-Branche) and the other, for Lolth (or at least, against the Baenre and in fear of Lolth's wrath) (house Barrison Del'Armgo and their allies: house Melarn, house Mizzrym, house Vandree, house Hunzrin; & loyal Lolthian priestess Sos'Umptu Baenre). The loyal side won, with Sos'Umptu replacing her sister as Matron Mother of house Baenre, 2500-3000 drows left the Underdark including the former Baenre Matron, all part of the deal that placed Sos'Umptu to the throne. Around 3000 drows were dead in the conflict, countless demon banished for 100 years.
House Baenre: Sos'Umptu Baenre is now the Matron Mother. She's a devoted Lolth High Priestess, Mistress of Arach-Tinilith, daughter of Yvonnel the Eternal and sister of former Matron Mother Quenthel Baenre, who's now in exile on the surface. Two of Quenthel's children stays, including her eldest daughter. Half of the drider-turned-drow soldiers stayed. Yvonnel Baenre II is not dead, but currently is banished somewhere unreachable by the Avatar of Lolth.
House Barrison Del'Armgo: Matron Mez'Barris Armgo (and some of her priestesses) is dead at the hands of her mind-controlled grandson — weapon master & Lolth's Warrior — Malagdorl Armgo.
House Melarn: Matron Zhindia Melarn got blown up in their house compound, possible structural damage there. Lolth's Web fell, wounded many including those of house Melarn.
House Xorlarrin/Do'Urden: Matron Zeerith Xorlarrin became Zeerith Do'Urden for the restored house Do'Urden and now reverted to Zeerith Xorlarrin, having embraced Lolth once again and turned her back at Quenthel Baenre and Yvonnel's cause. The Matron's daughter — her heiress left the Underdark with her brother.
House Fey-Branche: Matron Byrtyn Fey is the mother of Minolin Fey and grandmother of Yvonnel Baenre II. She got turned into a drider, implied to be Zhindia Melarn's handiwork. She's alive still and so is her daughters.
House Mizzrym: Miz'ri Mizzrym & allies stormed and seized the compound of house Fey-Branche. Matron Byrtyn Fey was captured during this raid and turned into a drider.
House House Faen Tlabbar: Stayed out of the conflict. Remained intact.
House Vandree: Matron Asha Vandree is alive. Lost a nephew in this conflict.
House Hunzrin: Matron Shakti was held captive at the hands of house Baenre, but is implied that they're to be released when Sos'Umptu take charge of house Baenre instead of Quenthel.
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everybodyloveshippos · 5 months
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(lolths warrior spoilers)
their relationship evolution literally makes me unwell (in a good way)
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this exchange makes me insane bcus like.it was so long ago. but they both remember it vividly. and her mentioning their lack of interaction is crazy bcus i was just thinking abt that. i loved their dynamic in starlight enclave but this is gettingg more serious and i love that for them too
ALSO
i wanted the narrative to mention dahlia so bad and FINALLY it did. and effron!
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j-esbian · 2 months
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(one of) the most frustrating parts about the portrayal of drow society is that it wants to create Reverse Sexism without uncoupling itself from some. pretty foundational patriarchal ideas. it ascribes to the (tired, essentialist) notion that men are inherently good at certain things, and women are inherently suited for different things
but rather than the basic subversion of “women are warriors and men are the homemakers” or even early feminist thought experiments like “traditionally ‘women’s priorities’ are given importance over ‘men’s’ (ie things are governed by council, importance is placed on childrearing, etc)”, menzoberranzan is “this society still holds to patriarchal values and women are not as good at these things which is why it’s demonstrably worse”.
the biggest tell is that they have to control the male population to maintain female dominance, the implication being that in a fair fight, men would easily overpower them. it assumes the misogynist ideas as fact that “women are inherently weaker” and also “women are duplicitous” so the drow fighting style is based on stealth and sabotage rather than “”honorable”” face- to-face combat (letting lie also the assumption that the only avenue for ambition is through military violence, and therefore still making it so that they are reliant on men, even as disposable shock troops, for their success).
the only things that keep women in charge are by stacking the numbers on a systematic level, and through sexual domination on the individual level (because clearly the only real power a woman can have over men is her sexuality).
it is a society where “men act like men” but women don’t act like women; it is evil because an act of god created an aberration against the “natural order” of things, and there is no one to tend the hearth (because if the women won’t do it, no one will)
#there’s just. so much to unpack#call me old fashioned but i think. if you’re trying to subvert something you should first understand how it actually works#now this is also mostly based off of what i read from the first couple drizzt novels and old lore on the wiki so like#it’s possible that they’ve tried to do a spit-polish retcon in 5e#but every time they’ve tried to do that with other things i feel like they also misunderstood the real issue so#either way i don’t have a lot of faith that this would have fundamentally changed#it’s probably just something like ‘yep we acknowledge it’s problematic but that’s bc lolth is eeeeevil so it’s supposed to be bad’#like i’m gonna be honest. i roll my eyes whenever Any fantasy society spends time codifying gender roles in this kind of way#there’s plenty of other races that are like ‘men are warriors and women are homemakers but both are equally important so it’s not sexist!!!#like they’re not just reinventing the wheel of victorian Separate Spheres#but what gets me about this one is how clear it feels that no one thought deeply about it#‘a matriarchy is when women act like men’#i have no source for this but it FEELS like it originated as a reactionary response to second wave feminism#‘women can do the same things men can do?? we should let them in positions of power??#this is what that looks like. checkmate feminists’#honestly i have learned a lot more about the way men think about women from fantasy bc#it rly shows their asses when you’re ostensibly removed from the world we live in#and the things they place importance on#mine#dnd
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rukafais · 9 months
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one day i will do a grand breakdown essay on Why Jarlaxle and Kimmuriel’s Relationship Makes Me Incredibly Unhinged With Citations but for now you get this abridged version. Spoilers for Lolth’s Warrior/last book in particular but also Generations and other Way of the Drow books a little bit. also this is STILL a long post i’m sorry I am VERY not normal about this
so last trilogy (generations) kimmuriel's all, man i wish i was an illithid. i like illithids. hive mind's great. love those guys.
   But here, in this place, nothing was measured in that manner. In this place, Kimmuriel Oblodra didn’t exist, other than to be a single colligation in the one being that was the whole of illithid society. Here in the hive mind, his fingers caressing the great pulsing brain, the edifice of connection and oneness, thoughts and memories became interchangeable and mingled.  Study in the hive mind was merely a matter of searching what had become your own expansive knowledge and memories rather than hearing or reading the words of a separate being. Kimmuriel often lamented that he should have been born an illithid. The hive mind knew this truth within the drow’s heart, of course, which explained why he was so welcomed here. One could not easily hide insincerity in this place. One could not easily hide anything from the illithids.
A large part of the individual that was Kimmuriel wanted to just stay here. Let Luskan and Bregan D’aerthe be the concerns of another. He could remain at the hive mind and caress knowledge itself, bask in pure thought, revel in memories as visceral as if he had walked those pathways in the lonely and singular drow form he had been forced to wear.
and then in THIS trilogy (way of the drow) kimmuriel has mentioned it's also going to be his afterlife as a way of rejecting the concept of a god-given one/escaping the clutches of Lolth, or any god, entirely
“The multiverse is a matter of divine numbers,” Kimmuriel said. “The particulars of the tyrant gods are merely noise—temporary noise in the ultimate eternity of it all. We are manifestations of pure and singular thought, grains of sand on an endless beach or drops of water in the endless ocean that splashes onto that beach. The hive mind is a conduit into that pure and singular thought. It is my destiny to directly merge, to become less speck and less droplet, and more a viewer of it all. You felt the power when we channeled it from the hive mind to obliterate Demogorgon those years ago. You felt it, the ecstasy.” this kind of description is also imo, implicitly has thematic connections to transcendence; kimmuriel is interested in it, he asks drizzt for his opinions as drizzt has gone through a similar process, he examines the memories of Kane’s own transcendence, etc. It’s not the same but it is similar. Transcendence is a process that is easy to initiate and hard to come back from because you essentially become one with the universe and it's so ecstatic and amazing that you have trouble remembering who you are as an individual, and if you lose that thread enough, you kinda cease to exist as like, yourself. You just get lost in the sauce, forever. but, some kind of strong emotion and focus can bring you back from it, if you go in with a purpose and you manage to maintain that purpose: 'ecstasy' is a key word here because kimmuriel uses it to describe what channeling the power of the hive mind/being tapped into that pure conduit is like, and vitally, to strengthen the connection, transcendence is also described this way:
“The body will not turn back and the mental and emotional discipline needed to deny that call of ecstasy is enormous. When you transcend, you will know such joy, unrelenting, even building as time, which becomes meaningless, passes, yet the time to find the needed discipline, the denial of pure desire, is short, and failure means that you will be forever removed from this existence. Afafrenfere just stared at him, jaw hanging open. “I know not how to put it more clearly or bluntly,” the ancient monk answered that blank stare. “You will not want to come back, and so you, as you are known and as you know yourself, will be no more.” So, i posted all that text, now i'm gonna get into the next bit Several books have established that Kimmuriel is lonely without psionic connection and the hivemind fills an unmet need in him.
 However, as a direct counterpoint to the hive mind and what it is capable of giving him (despite its love for him, and I do believe it’s reasonable to interpret this passage: Arguments came back at him from so many other corners of the hive mind, though. He was unique here, or nearly so. Only this synapse of the hive mind, this being named Kimmuriel, that existed in that drow reality in that world of Faerun, could bring in such expansive experiences and knowledge of that place. He would be limiting the hive mind and thus limiting himself if he lost the balance between recipient and source. as a kind of love, even if it is an ‘alien’ expression of it; Kimmuriel is worth more to them as an individual and not an illithid, even as an outsider, than he is joined and subsumed to them) we have...stuff like this:
Kimmuriel’s work here was done. He offered that thought to Pescatawav, and the Most Endeared excused him to go and tend to the more pressing problems he faced on his home plane, among his own inferior people. There was no sense of gratitude, no thoughts of hope that Kimmuriel would succeed. It just was. There were a few moments like this for Kimmuriel Oblodra, when he almost reconsidered his life’s journey, when he saw so plainly the difference between the sensibilities of the hive mind and those of Jarlaxle. His only friend. we also have jarlaxle getting kinda disassembled and put back together by the hive mind so his memories can be deconstructed and it's kind of funny but also Kimmuriel had been desperately worried about subjecting his dearest friend to the intrusions of the mind flayers. Perhaps he should have been more worried about subjecting the illithids to the sensibilities of Jarlaxle.
Jarlaxle is So Much that he’s kind of affected the hive mind. Good job buddy. But it means they now have that connective tissue: Kimmuriel cannot hide anything from the illithids including whatever strong feelings he has for Jarlaxle, and Jarlaxle is also very attached to Kimmuriel: “Kimmuriel is your second.” “He’s the other half of my first. In my part of Bregan D’aerthe, in my, shall we say, personal journeys, you are my partner.”
Like really attached: “Where will you go?” Jarlaxle pleaded when Kimmuriel didn’t answer. “ “You know,” the hulking possessed man replied audibly. “No,” Jarlaxle breathed. “I won’t let you!” Drizzt saw that Jarlaxle was fighting back tears. [...] “There is an emptiness . . . I will miss you, Kimmuriel,” Jarlaxle said, as quiet as Drizzt had ever heard the rogue.
Like, really really attached:
“I am lesser without you, my friend,” Jarlaxle told the image. “Both practically and in my heart.”
I could go on but I’m trying to make this short etc there’s like a fucking billion examples.
So. Kimmuriel is not content with just his mortal body on his own plane, which is a lonely existence, or just feeding his mind which is essentially what the hive mind does for him. He needs friends and people to like...make physical existence worthwhile to actually reach a pleasant equilibrium. His more passive suicidal tendencies actually sort of ebb after Generations, where he is considering mortality carefully but also is like "i'm not sure i actually want to die":
“So, he let you in there and he gave to you his memories of transcending the physical form.” “And now I understand better. But of course, there remain limitations on that understanding, because such an act may or may not be a permanent state of being.” “There’s only one way to find out the truth,” Drizzt admitted. “I am in no hurry to leave this life.”
So he's clearly found some sense of purpose to make being physical work for him , and again! A large part of that is Jarlaxle! He names other friends (especially Gromph) but a LARGE part of that is Jarlaxle.
And then he fucking dies of course I've shrieked enough about that lmao
and when he says goodbye he confirms that yes, he is going to his ideal afterlife, where Drizzt hopes he finds peace similar to transcendence:
“My time is ending,” the voice of Malagdorl repeated. “There is nothing to be done.” “Except to say farewell,” Drizzt said. “I will remember our talks on the road to the monastery, my friend. May you find oneness with the hive mind and peace in eternity.” “And you, warrior. Survive, I beg.”
joining the hive mind, a cluster of individuals swirling into a greater ‘being’ and is also referred to as ecstatic, is compared and contrasted to a process of becoming one with the universe that is hard to come back from as yourself because it feels That Good.
Got all that? Good. Because now we get to the epilogue of Lolth’s Warrior:
Jarlaxle left them, then, and went to his private room. He sat down before a table and pulled a cloth off the circular object resting in a tri-pronged stand atop it. He closed his eyes and reached out, hoping. A familiar image appeared in the ball a long while later, and Jarlaxle breathed a sigh of relief. “I am glad you are floating about this day,” Jarlaxle said. “You miss me.” This day, he heard in his mind, a most familiar voice. And perhaps again, now and then. Jarlaxle understood the unsaid part: Kimmuriel would not come to him at his beckon. Less so, came the thought in his mind. There is so much. So much. “And so much I still need from you.” You will be disappointed.
 [...] “I am lesser without you, my friend,” Jarlaxle told the image. “Both practically and in my heart.” It is the way of things. And that was it, and the spirit of Kimmuriel departed once more. Perhaps for the last time, Jarlaxle knew, though he desperately hoped that wouldn’t be the case. Here he is!  It’s not a summoning circle or a calling spell, it simply just seems to be that Jarlaxle reaches out and hopes that Kimmuriel will be around to answer him, and he does. Taking Jarlaxle's gay little sad thought calls, plural, because they have done this several times already, is worth it to Kimmuriel, enough to tear himself away from his ideal, implied to be VERY GOOD FEELING AFTERLIFE for.
Enough to maintain a sense of self and individuality because he speaks to Jarlaxle like he's the same person, just very distracted and its like WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH ANY OF THIS. like fucking. Im not even getting into the implications that it's rooted in love, like, the hive mind’s love for kimmuriel as an individual and kimmuriel’s love for jarlaxle and jarlaxle’s love for kimmuriel?? subtextually? becuase jarlaxle is the only one who has consistently treated kimmuriel like a person
To trust Kimmuriel is to trust a creature we cannot begin to decipher. Why Jarlaxle elevated him to lead Bregan D’aerthe, I will never understand.” “Perhaps Jarlaxle believes that he understands Kimmuriel.” “Then Jarlaxle fools himself.”
they are noted by other characters to be extremely close to the point that they have a trust bond that is rare among menzo drow:
Now, though, I witness a much different structure within Bregan D’aerthe, and one very much more powerful. For Jarlaxle has given to his followers something truly special among the Lolth-serving drow: an element of trust. And he does so by example. Jarlaxle has entrusted Kimmuriel Oblodra with the very leadership of the band on those many occasions when he, Jarlaxle, is out on some adventure or other. He has even tasked Kimmuriel with reining in his own worst excesses—with keeping Jarlaxle himself in line!
(also see the other half of my first thing; when Jarlaxle says Zak is his partner Zaknafein immediately rebuts it with “Kimmuriel is your partner”) they go from standoffish and awkward to like calling each other friends and kimmuriel being Totally Fine with jarlaxle just touching him unprompted, a guy whose personal space bubble is Don’t Fucking Touch Me Asshole:
“I hesitate to take Azzudonna, this woman I barely know and know not at all as a friend, and you expect me to subject you to the intrusion of the hive mind?” “Why, Kimmuriel, did you just admit that you love me?” Jarlaxle teased, but the psionicist was having none of it. “Good,” said Jarlaxle, nodding to his drow companions. “Then I want you to cast it now on my dear friend here,” he explained, wrapping his arm about Kimmuriel. and then kimmuriel dies and this literally does not slow him down. and then he dies and, as the epilogue shows, comes back to jarlaxle anyway.
like it's not even thematically inappropriate is what fucking gets me, because kimmuriel has already established he is someone who essentially lives in two worlds and needs both to be happy and the conclusion is that he doesn't have to choose, he can have both, and that mirrors jarlaxle's defiance of having to give things up to be 'good' Jarlalxle doesn't have to abandon everything he was just so he can become Good and Palatable to a surface world that doesn't give a shit about him (drizzt did this only out of desperation, even; his flight and rejection and all of it, for him menzo is a home that he wanted so badly to belong to, it hurts to leave, but he knows he has to because he can’t bear it. that’s a different essay though). he can have all of it, as much as he can carry. he wants all of it. he hates to let go of it. that refusal to let go saves almost three thousand people from menzoberranzan. kimmuriel's refusal to be forced into a choice means he comes back to jarlaxle in some way and form, even with the deck stacked against him to make it incredibly fucking difficult to do so and again, kimmuriel has literally everything he has ever wanted in dying, everything he's ever aspired to, the One Truth he’s been reaching toward, and it is, apparently, still not enough.
In conclusion:
“Look at yourself!” Gromph scolded. “You care. Kimmuriel Oblodra— and how remarkable that any Oblodra or Odran cares! Have you gone soft, then? Have you abandoned your sole goal in life, to find the One Eternal Truth along with those tentacle waggling illithids?” Kimmuriel wanted to deny his words, to deny him, but his responses sounded without conviction. “Have you become enamored of the flesh, Kimmuriel?” Gromph asked more seriously. “Have you found within your emotionless mind a bit of love for that which we mere mortals covet?” idk man look at it its on the ceiling. i dont fucking know. i truly do not know. i am not going to be normal about this for the next five years.
Bonus:
When Kane is talking to Afa about transcendence and Afa’s reasons for transcendence (he wants to find his dead boyfriend again):
“Nothing in the multiverse is more powerful than love, my friend,” Kane said, and he smiled, and moved his hand. 
Like sure okay whatever. Sure. It sure is huh.
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solvicrafts · 9 months
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Jarlaxle & Social Grace
BUCKLE UP, KIDDOS! I'm about to drop some new Jarlaxle meta :O
This post is going to be following a new format because I want to make it easier to read for people who maybe aren't very well-versed in the books, and I want to provide a good resource for roleplayers and DMs. Therefore I am going to break it up into different sections, and if you are reading this with the intent to get an understanding of Jarlaxle for the sake of portraying him faithfully in your campaign, you can skip ahead to whichever part you need (although of course I DO recommend reading the whole thing if you're /not/ very familiar with Jarlaxle and would like to get a really in-depth look at him & his motivations)
This post is going to be super-long, so if you do not want to read the entire thing, Section 4 is where I try to more or less summarize things and give some tips on how to play Jarlaxle as a DM. All sections have been bolded in orange font to make them easier to find at a glance.
EDIT: There are some spoilers for one particular thing that happens towards the end of Lolth's Warrior. These will be mentioned in the second half of Part 2, and all of Part 3. If you wish to avoid them, Parts 1, 4, and 5 do not have them.
Section 1: Jarlaxle and the concept of social grace
If there's one thing Jarlaxle is known for, it's his ability to charm the pants off of damn near everyone he encounters. And while this is very much true for him, people pretty commonly miss out on the purpose of his charming behavior and the intent behind it.
As I re-read the Sellswords trilogy (and some of the side content from that time period), there are a few things that really stand out to me:
Jarlaxle goes out of his way to de-escalate situations… like, a lot.
These books really do a good job of pointing out how delightfully charming Jarlaxle is -- more on that later.
While he does try to coast on Drizzt's reputation a few times, he really doesn't NEED to for a pretty major reason.
Jarlaxle is extraordinarily good at extending social grace to people in situations where it arguably isn't deserved, and while it doesn't always succeed for him, what I find interesting is that he doesn't tend to take it very personally.
For our first example, let's take a look at this bit from Servant of the Shard:
Entreri and Jarlaxle merely tipped their hats and moved to the bar, making no threatening movements and keeping their expressions perfectly friendly. "What're ye about?" the barkeep barked at them. "Who're ye, and what's yer business?" "Travelers," Entreri answered, "weary of the road and seeking a bit of respite." "Well, yell not be finding it here, ye won't!" the barkeep growled. "Get yer hats back on yer ugly heads and get yer arses out me door!" Entreri looked to Jarlaxle, who seemed perfectly unperturbed. "I do believe we will stay a bit," the drow stated. "I do understand your hesitance, good sir . . . good Eman Briar," he added, remembering the sign. "Eman?" the barkeep echoed in obvious confusion.
This bit goes on for a while, with the barkeep becoming increasingly irate, Jarlaxle hilariously over-performing in his Drizzt Do'Urden cosplay, and Entreri just plain having enough of this shit.
What's also interesting is this exchange:
"It will always be like this," Entreri said to his companion a short while later. "It had not been so for Drizzt Do'Urden of late, so my spies indicated," the drow answered. "His reputation, in those lands where he was known, outshone the color of his skin in the eyes of even the small-minded men. So, soon, will my own." "A reputation for heroic deeds?" Entreri asked with a doubting laugh. "Are you to become a hero for the land, then?" "That, or a reputation for leaving burned-out villages behind me," Jarlaxle replied. "Either way, I care little."
(bolded for emphasis)
What's interesting to note here is that Jarlaxle claims not to care, but then later on a fight breaks out when Kimmuriel and Rai'gy send a group of wererats in to ambush Jarlaxle and Entreri, and this happens:
He took a moment to glance Jarlaxle's way then and saw the drow up in the air, levitating and turning circles, daggers flying from his pumping arm. Following their paths, Entreri saw one wererat, and another, stumble backward under the assault. A farmer grabbed at his calf, a blade deeply embedded there. Jarlaxle purposely hadn't killed the human, Entreri noted, though he surely could have.
This, by the way, continues on throughout the Sellswords trilogy. Jarlaxle and Artemis repeatedly find themselves in situations where people are hostile towards them largely due to Jarlaxle's race, and Jarlaxle always makes a point of diffusing the situation whether or not it is justified. He's not above embarrassing the occasional drunkard, of course, but he does go above and beyond to give people the benefit of the doubt, and we also see an example of this in a short story that takes place I believe between the first and second book, in which Jarlaxle and Entreri enter a tavern and the waitress appears nervous over Jarlaxle's presence and has trouble serving them, and when Entreri lashes out at her, Jarlaxle is the one to admonish him for his behavior.
So, why does he do this? Why does Jarlaxle go to so much effort to give the benefit of the doubt to people who, arguably, may not always be deserving of it?
Section 2: Why Jarlaxle is surprisingly successful at breaking down social barriers
Even if his attempts at keeping the peace don't always work out in his favor, one thing that his traveling companions (especially Entreri) tend to pick up on his that he is really, really good at breaking down social barriers.
For example, Entreri notices in the beginning of Promise of the Witch-King that Jarlaxle makes quick work of befriending a group of adventurers that includes a surface elf, also known as the sworn enemy of Lolthite drow. The group is initially standoffish toward him as he approaches, and they very quickly come around as he makes them laugh.
What makes Jarlaxle so charming, and earns him a bit more leeway and good will than most drow trying to make it on the surface, is the fact that he is really, really good at extending social grace to people and giving them the benefit of the doubt even in situations where they have not done so themselves. He even tells Entreri in this same book, point blank, "charm is a learned skill" and he's not wrong.
Jarlaxle has an easier time winning people over because he prioritizes making them feel good vs making them feel bad. When you put people on the defensive, they will almost always double-down on whatever behavior it is you want them to change. But if you show compassion or understanding or try to make them feel better in some way, they're going to be way more likely to come around to your point of view.
Remember that bit I bolded from Entreri saying "it will always be like this"?
If Jarlaxle had given up and gone back to Menzoberranzan, he'd probably be right. But as it stands, Jarlaxle did not do that; he instead fought to build a society in which drow can safely live on the surface and mingle with its inhabitants. Lolth's Warrior even ends with him leading thousands of refugees from Menzoberranzan to the surface and securing a better future for them, and that is an absolutely monumental achievement on his part.
And what makes Jarlaxle so inspiring and also very compelling to me, personally, is the fact that he really doesn't get terribly caught up on the concept of "deserving." This has been a constant for him throughout the series, and it becomes very apparent at the end of Lolth's Warrior when he makes a point to stand behind Quenthel and refuses to give her up during his negotiations with Sos'Umptu.
Section 3: It's not about 'deserve...'
...it's about what you believe.
"We will destroy everything you desire in House Baenre, I promise, should it come to that. But it should not! You will have Matron Shakti Hunzrin at your side. And with Malagdorl freed by you, House Barrison Del'Armgo will not oppose you. Make of him your patron and your weapon master in House Baenre! The play is so obvious, and with House Baenre and Barrison Del'Armgo joined, who will argue? You will have the peace you need to rebuild." "And what do you get in return?" Sos'Umptu asked. "We leave." "Leave?" He hid the smile he felt at her bemusement. "We leave. All who will go. We leave Menzoberranzan, the City of Spiders, the City of Lolth. We leave never to return, and with your word that you will not pursue us." "I cannot give you that word. I serve Lolth." "Then just let us leave, and we will do what we must if it comes to that." "The Blaspheme remains." "You would not want that and I cannot offer that." Sos'Umptu sat back for a bit and considered her reply, seeming to agree with the former part, at least. "Quenthel is doomed. She stays and pays for her great heresy." "No." "No?" "No. As I said: all who want to must be allowed to go. Besides, I cannot make decisions for her. Do you not understand that? Do you not understand what this is all about, what it has been about since the beginning? It is about individual choice and freedom. Personal agency to determine life and faith—yes, faith! Mostly faith! How can you demand fealty to a goddess from those who do not worship her? Why would she even want them? Why would you want them causing only unrest in your city? That's what we fought for, Sos'Umptu. Lolth was a symbol of the oppression, nothing more." Sos'Umptu laughed at him. "You always were an idiot, Jarlaxle, believing that others carried such pride as you have within your heart. You never saw Lolth as your great mother and so you are arrogant enough to believe that all others feel as you do." "Not all. Not you, clearly." "Not hardly all," Sos'Umptu said.
For those of you who haven't read the books (or have only read a few), Quenthel is one of Jarlaxle's sisters, and was, up until this point, the Matron Mother of House Baenre. And as Matron Mother, she personally victimized Jarlaxle and several of his men many, many, many times. She arguably is wholly undeserving of Jarlaxle's compassion here.
Which only makes Jarlaxle's refusal to give her up that much more important and moving. Because here's the thing: he *could* have done it, and it likely would have made negotiations a bit easier for him. He had no way of knowing that Sos'Umptu was going to be willing to concede that much, and he took a huge risk at losing everything to stand up for Quenthel.
And really, I don't think anyone would have even held it against him if he'd given her up; they'd have accepted it as a loss for the greater good or, likely in many cases, would've felt she deserved it.
But to Jarlaxle, it wasn't a question of deserve or doesn't deserve. After all, his closest friends tend to be people who murder to cope with their traumas, and he has taken it upon himself to give all of them a chance to better themselves whether or not they've 'earned' it in any way.
Section 4: The Takeaway, from an RP Standpoint
And now, let's think about what we've learned of Jarlaxle — or what we've learned from Jarlaxle:
Extending social grace to people who are not acting friendly towards you is not a sign of personal weakness, but in fact very much the opposite
Giving people the benefit of the doubt may not always feel justified or deserved, but it absolutely can benefit you to do so
People learn and grow when they are given opportunity and support
With that in mind, here is some advice on how to play Jarlaxle as a DM:
For the love of Lolth (or not), don't have him murder or otherwise betray Soluun or any of his other men. This take comes up with alarming regularity in discussions about Waterdeep: Dragon Heist and it absolutely grinds my gears. Jarlaxle would not approve of Soluun's activities, but his solution would not be to just throw him under the bridge and be done with it. Realistically, if your players were to reveal his activities to him, Jarlaxle would likely pull him away and not give him any further opportunities to murder innocent people.
Also, keep in mind that Jarlaxle immediately forgave his lieutenants for starting a coup and attempting to murder him. He immediately took responsibility for his own lapses in judgment during Servant of the Shard and even appointed Kimmuriel as his co-leader to keep his worst impulses in check. Had Rai'gy and Berg'inyon survived, he'd have pardoned them, too (though he probably not have promoted them like he did Kimmuriel lol)
Jarlaxle's charm is meant to deceive would-be adversaries, yes, but it's not the only reason he uses it. Jarlaxle genuinely does not want bloodshed if it can be avoided, and he tries to find solutions to conflicts that are mutually beneficial. If your players end up befriending him or wanting to side with him? Run with it. Jarlaxle is almost always willing to make a deal, and he is not going to go out of his way to attack or attempt to kill the players unless they absolutely force his hand, and it'd take something really, really extreme for that to even be on the table in the first place.
While he probably wouldn't admit it even under torture, there is an undercurrent of self-loathing that guides a lot of Jarlaxle's actions, and is part of the reason he goes out of his way to be compassionate (even if he'd never use that word to describe himself). Jarlaxle's charm and vanity is meant to knock his enemies off balance and keep the peace in situations where a fight might break out, but it's not all of who he is as a person. Much of what he does in the more recent books comes down to lasting guilt and trauma due to his perceived failures to protect and save people he cared about.
While he may use some really under-handed methods for achieving his goals at times, he does usually have pretty decent if not outright good intentions behind them. With this in mind, if players are willing to negotiate with him, do not play him as an unreasonable hard-ass. This man loves diplomacy and will almost always prioritize finding a peaceful solution over violence. He will absolutely convince your players that his and their goals are aligned, and honestly? There's a pretty good chance they will be, if they aren't already. I realize this is basically point #3 re-phrased but I just can't emphasize it enough because 80% of the fandom completely fell for his act and never looked any further. Yes, yes, he's the funny hat man who fucks, but there's just SO MUCH MORE to him than that.
And lastly (for now lol) Jarlaxle loves flirting and enthusiastic consent, but — and this is very, very important! — he absolutely draws a hard line at violating someone else's (or his own) bodily autonomy. If you choose to let him/the PCs flirt, please for the love of god keep that in mind. Jarlaxle will happily flirt and play around (and more) but if another character isn't into it he will absolutely stop and respect their boundaries. He wants to have fun and if the other person/people involved are not having fun, then neither is he.
Section 5: And lastly: how can we apply what we have learned from Jarlaxle to our personal lives?
I also think that Jarlaxle's example is not just important from an RP perspective, but from a human perspective, because at the end of the day, odds are we've all encountered people in our lives who were rude to us, or treated us poorly, or offended us in some other way. That is a fact of life and it is something that all of us have to deal with at some point.
And the truth is, giving in to cruelty is easy. Holding grudges is easy. Writing people off is easy.
But giving people opportunity to learn and grow, and showing compassion to people who have wronged you absolutely is not, and very often we get caught up on the question of "does this person deserve it?" but we neglect to ask ourselves "how am I helping [this cause/this person/myself]?"
And of course, that is not to say that there aren't situations IRL in which it IS better to burn bridges, because of course there are. But if you take some time out of your day to ask yourself that last question, you might be surprised to learn that extending a bit of social grace yourself, even (or especially!) in situations where it might not feel deserved, can actually be beneficial not just to the other person but to YOU.
Could the cashier have bagged your groceries wrong because they're a jerk and wanted to hurt you, personally? Yeah, sure, but does it benefit anyone to assume that is the case and get worked up about it? Probably not.
Did the person who cut you off in traffic do it because they're a jerk? Possibly. But is holding a grudge going to give you peace of mind, or is it going to ruin your day?
Sometimes people are assholes because they feel like it, but most of the time people are assholes because they feel justified and/or slighted in some way, and while it might not always feel justified on YOUR part, extending social grace and forgiveness will benefit you more often than not even if it isn't the easiest thing in the world to do.
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mahleb · 3 months
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Baldurs Gate 3 nevertheless returned me to the world of Faerun, and especially to its book part. Characters from the trilogy “Daughter of the Drow*,” the head of the trading organization “Dragon's Hoard” - magician Nisstyre. And his right hand (and, concurrently, his son) - the warrior Gorlyst. It was especially interesting to read about them, because worshipers of the god Vhaeraun are rarely mentioned in the books; they are mainly believers of the main drow goddess Lolth.
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astraltadpole · 3 months
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Oblodra remnant: Tav x Emp origin fic idea
House Oblodra origin https://forgottenrealms.fandom.com/wiki/House_Oblodra
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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:
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vspin · 4 months
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Came up with some interesting characterization for Tav'Lyn
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I have been painstakingly working on my first ever multi-chapter fic (wow, what a fun challenge it has been 😅).
The premise is that Lolth is not okay with the Cult of the Absolute stealing her drow.
Since Tav'Lyn was once a Cleric of Lolth, Lolth speaks through a yochlol to her in the Underdark (I have seen vague spoilers of Lolth's Warrior, idk if that is even BG3 canon but I'm taking it with a grain of salt) and gives Tav her blessing and orders her to kill the Absolute. Then she kills Tav with a bunch of spiders for the lolz and because she is a petty bitch and knows Withers is in the camp.
It's interesting that in my mind, I was picturing Tav'Lyn (I think she was too) as having this badass moment where she is confident and strong when facing Lolth. I was imagining Lae'Zel with Vlaakith or Astarion with Cazador.
Then I read in Drizzt #9, Yvonnel -Motherfucking-Baenre prostrating in submission to Lolth.
And now that I'm writing it...Tav'Lyn is just scared. Her words lack conviction and strength. Lolth barely even lets her speak. It's taking every inch of her willpower not to grovel. She pushes back as best as she can, but it falls flat.
It's motherfucking Lolth.
Tav's entire existence and upbringing focused on fearing and venerating Lolth. That's not going to go away after a few years away from the Church.
It's also interesting to explore how Astarion is viewing this as well, since it's a side of her he just hasn't seen before and it kinda pisses him off too?
Anyway, just some rambling because I found this kinda interesting.
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bluecoolr · 3 months
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Branch
Part 2 of Darron and Baeron's Backstory
Link to Part 1
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The training hall had been Darron's home for the last three years. The hall itself. Tucked in a quiet corner was a cot, where he slept; a small chest, where he kept his clothes; and a chamber pot. Darron believed that the lack of privacy - the utter indignity he was forced to endure - was part of the punishment T'zeklochar had cooked up.
Darron spent his first sixteen years as a weanling drow cared for conjointly by his father and teacher, but the brunt of his upbringing fell to T’zeklochar, who was more predisposed to raise the stubborn twin.
His refusal to undergo schooling as a noble consort was testimony to his stubbornness.
He had come into his sixteenth year as a slender, spritely sprig of a boy, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. A dancer's body.
Ryld had come to his boys proposing dancing lessons. Dancing lessons, by Lolth! It didn't matter that Darron was close to mastering the Draa Velve (“two sword”) fighting style, or that Baeron was by far the best knife thrower House Barriurden had ever produced. No, they had to take dancing lessons.
Darron had screamed “No!” and “I won't!” through the years more times than T’zeklochar could count. This time, he refused to hear it.
He'd grabbed the boy by the arms and squeezed. “I have indulged you for long enough,” he said through gritted teeth. “You will do as your father says.”
“I. Won't.”
T’zeklochar's grip tightened.
“I'm going to be a warrior, and I will train, even if I have to break into the training hall everyday.”
T’zeklochar fumed, his obsidian skin turning darker as his face flushed. He turned to Ryld. “He gets that from you,” he admonished.
“And who found it entertaining enough to nurture it?” was Ryld's haughty reply.
T'zeklochar released Darron with a defeated sigh. “Fine.” The smile he pulled made Darron shrink back. “I'll make you beg for dancing lessons by the end of the month.”
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The Weapons Master could be gentle when he wanted to be. Darron could remember getting cuddled and hugged as a weanling. Even the odd kiss on the cheek.
He wasn't averse to corporal punishment, however, but those were reserved for when Darron had been particularly difficult.
Darron's first sparring session with T’zeklochar as a sixteen-year-old involved no inhibition on the master's end. Darron froze when his guardian punched him full-force in the face.
“You seem upset,” T’zeklochar remarked.
“You just hit me!”
“And you think a real opponent won't? Quit your whining.”
He'd walked away from the spar grumbling and covered in bruises. Matron Dinbreena had laughed. “Aww… you look even prettier this dark,” she told him.
Baeron, the more docile of the two, seemed to actually enjoy his lessons. Well, he'd enjoy anything as long as he was showered with splendid gifts and praise, the buffoon.
Darron often saw him with his instructor - a strikingly masculine Szarkai. An alabaster-skinned drow, what his people called a “ghost spider”. Their complexion allowed them to pass for surface elves and carry out business on behalf of wealthy clients.
Nobody spoke his name. Darron doubted if anyone knew his name, but he knew that Szarkai were all spies and assassins.
He wondered whether the “dancing lessons” were so bad after all. And with how much Baeron and the Szarkai flirted, he wondered what kind of “dancing lessons” they had exactly.
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Now, at eighteen, Darron was sinewy and quick; his motion fluid, precise, and cutting - the potential for dance still very apparent. He wore his long hair down. It hung low to his waist, straight and shiny like molten silver. It was a symbol of his nobility, and something to distract from his ice-blue eyes.
He was a voracious reader, preferring books about romance and adventure. If he wasn't reading on his cot (or trying his hand at poetry of his own), Darron was on his feet, wielding two swords and practicing against a dummy.
This was how Nalaghar found him on his visit from Melee Magthere.
Nalaghar was Secondboy of House Barriurden, the Patron's son, who didn't exactly admire Darron or his ambition of becoming a drow warrior. In his world, there was no room for rivals.
“Well!” he cried out, his deep voice bouncing off the walls. “Look who it is!”
Darron stood his ground. Drow were short by surface dweller standards. Darron stood at 5 feet and 4 inches. Tall, but he was not likely to grow anymore. Even still, Nalaghar loomed over him, cutting an imposing figure in his black, belted tunic and trousers. He was also wearing light armor, making Darron feel extremely vulnerable in just his soft boots and cotton pants.
He tightened his grip on the sword handles as his half-brother strode up to him, a peevish glint in his blood-red eyes.
“If it isn't our very own little Drizzt!”
Darron could feel himself grow red in the face. A very unbecoming color.
“What are you, now?” Nalaghar flicked Darron's ear. “Huh? Eighteen?”
Darron gave a curt nod.
“Only two more years until you qualify for the Academy,” remarked Nalaghar loftily. He was uncomfortably close now, advancing even as Darron moved to put space between them. “I can't wait,” growled Nalaghar, “for you to come to Melee Magthere. I'll be sure to arrange a little accident for you. One where they'll have to scrape what's left of you off the floor. Matron Dinbreena can keep you in a jar.”
The Patron's other sons flanked Nalaghar, baring their pearly teeth in nasty grins.
This scene had played out dozens of times before; Nalaghar would bait him into a fight, Darron would bite, and he would be whipped for insubordination. He would not take the bait, not this time.
Without a word, Darron walked away.
Infuriated by this display of emotional control, Nalaghar closed his fist around Darron's long hair and gave it a savage tug. “Don't you turn your back on me, you miserable insect!” he snarled.
Instinctively, Darron reached back to free himself. When Nalaghar's grip showed no signs of slacking, he twisted about and punched his half-brother in the mouth.
Nalaghar let go, stumbling from the hit. His bleeding gums stained his teeth scarlet.
Heaving like a beast, Nalaghar locked his gaze on the young drow and slowly unsheathed his sword.
The training hall echoed with the clash of swords and the muffled thumps of fists against flesh. Quickness and well-rehearsed blows are no match against brute strength, and Nalaghar quickly dominated the fight.
Even as Darron successfully cut and disarmed him, aid came from Nalaghar's brothers, who readily tossed him their swords.
Finally, locked in a parry, Darron forced himself to withstand Nalaghar's crushing weight as he tried to force Darron's knees to bend. An awful glimmer suddenly came into Nalaghar's eyes.
In a split second, Darron's vision darkened, and a loud ringing erupted in his ears. Nalaghar had headbutted him.
He did it a second time, and a third. By the fourth time, Darron had lost his grip on his weapons and was staggering blindly in the middle of the hall.
He fell down, groaning from the agony of a broken nose.
“You think you're a warrior, do you?” He pinned Darron down with his boot, making him sputter. With one swift motion, he'd swooped down and bundled up Darron's long, silver hair in his fist.
“You're nothing but the bastard son of a kitchen slave, and that won't ever change. No matter how many times your whore of a father beds the Weapons Master.”
The hairs on the back of Darron's head stood on end when he felt the cold blade of Nalaghar's sword at his nape. He was going to shear his hair off.
Before he could, a knife whizzed past Nalaghar's ear. He reached up to his cheek where a cut began to bleed.
“The next one, I'll put between your eyes,” Baeron warned, brandishing a knife in each hand.
The Szarkai stood by the door, commending Baeron's graceful form and perfect aim.
“You -!”
“That's enough, boy!”
Nalaghar faltered as the Weapons Master strode past Baeron, who got to his knees to examine his brother.
“You may be a master at Melee Magthere, but here you're still only Secondboy.”
Nalaghar looked like a kicked puppy, looking up desperately at T’zeklochar. He'd spent his entire life trying to impress the Weapons Master - his hero. He dressed like him, moved like him, even wore his hair in twists like him, but he never got more than a passive nod at his best efforts.
“Now, get out.” T’zeklochar shot a glare at the Patron's sons. “All of you.”
Darron awoke several minutes later, his head pillowed on Baeron's lap. The moment his eyes focused, and his gurgling turned to words, he was propped up on his back.
“I did terrible in that fight.”
“Nalaghar had to headbutt you four times before you fell, so that's saying something.” Baeron sopped up the blood from Darron's nose with his jacket. “Now, hold still.”
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defnotjarlaxle · 3 months
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Aight, done with Lolth's Warrior, what a wild ride.
(i won't post any spoilers)
it's a good book, you should read it.
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baldursyourgate · 6 months
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Was cleaning out my drafts and saw this excerpt... like how often do wizards combust? Other than Gale with that orb inside of him.
Then I came across another draft that's just screenshots of (former) Archmage of Menzoberranzan Gromph Baenre exploding himself... (he lives tho)
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Conclusion? Never doubt Minthara's insight. And if I had a nickel for every time a wizard's attack involves self-explosion, I'd have two nickels. Which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice.
What's funnier is that he's her relative 💀
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everybodyloveshippos · 5 months
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Began reading 'Homeland' August 19 2022 --> Finished 'Lolth's Warrior' January 16 2024
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artemis-entreri · 6 months
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Sorry if this is a dumb question, but can you please post links to your review of Lolth's Warrior? I love your reviews and can't find your Lolth's Warrior one. Thanks!
[[ Greetings!
Not a dumb question at all! ^_^ The reason that you can't find it is because it doesn't exist. XD In fact, I still haven't read the book yet, and I don't know when/if I will. I'm thinking that this is a good thing, as apparently even among the most diehard Drizzt fans there have been some very negative reactions to Lolth's Warrior, more so than ever.
If you follow me, you've probably noticed a significant drop in my activity. I've been greatly enjoying investing my time in other things, which is something I've been wanting to do for a while now but my brain wouldn't stop being hung up over these characters. It's no secret that I've been tired of Salvatore's BS for a long time, but I was too invested in the characters to be able to move on.
I think what finally helped me flip the switch is WotC investing a shitload of money to make Drizzt products, especially with whitewashed Artemis even though it's 2023. With the context of them also giving the excuse that they couldn't pay the other creatives who worked on their setting at market standard rates in the past along with their actions with the OGL earlier in the year, well, suffice to say that while I haven't respected Salvatore for a long time I did respect WotC, however after everything that happened this year, that has changed. I'm not sure how much WotC execs are responsible for the recent mass lay-offs, which in itself is really bad, but the fact that Mike Mearls was finally let go doesn't really help WotC's case for me because it only serves as a reminder of how Mearls wasn't fired earlier for assisting his sex abuser friend (he was instead quietly shuffled to the video games division for a while). When Mearls returned to the D&D division, about half a dozen female D&D staffers quit at the same time. This says to me that WotC cares more about a male sex abuser supporter than they do about all those female members of their staff, and it makes me question whether they care about women and oppressed groups in general. I've really started to question how much hypocrisy is present in their making a huge show of being LGBT+ inclusive; recent D&D products do indeed include a lot of LGBT+ representation, but how much of that is due to Jeremy Crawford having to fight to get it in there each time? How could WotC continue to march in Pride parades with pomp and circumstance while allowing the Mearls incident to have transpired?
When the OGL snafu happened, a friend made the comment that WotC may have had its ups and downs in the past but overall was generally viewed in a positive light by many, but that the OGL fiasco has probably bankrupted them from a "good will" perspective for a while. This is basically where I'm at with the company now. I still care a great deal about Ed Greenwood and the authors who penned the works that led me to fall in love with the world so hard, and while I still play D&D and care about FR, I'm at a point where I feel like WotC has demonstrated a clear lack of regard for their own Drizzt franchise, so much so that they don't even bother to get basic facts about one of its primary characters correct. As such, what's the point in me continuing to care? While I also don't care about how WotC feels about me as an individual fan, I've long been distasteful of how dismissive they are of their most dedicated fans, the ones who have spent hundreds of thousands of unpaid hours curating the (in)consistencies of their universe that they themselves can't be bothered to maintain. I can understand the reasons for WotC actively instructing their creatives to not use the FR Wiki, but it's painfully obvious that those creatives including Salvatore still use it to keep their facts straight because there is no comparable official resource for them internally with the company itself. Furthermore, the stuff that WotC is continuing to do suggest that they have no intention to change that, quite the opposite in fact. It was quite eyebrow-raising when WotC compared their D&D franchise to the Marvel universe, because what makes the Marvel universe so compelling and successful is the very self-consistency that WotC is trying to do away with in D&D. A big part of the reason why Marvel movies are loved is because it's the same characters that recur, and you never know if a character from a different movie will show up in the movie you're currently watching, but it's always a delight when they do. And, of course, it's so epic when all of those storylines across many different movies all come together and culminate in truly astounding ways. Despite the usage of an infinite multiverse in Marvel, there's this big sense of consistency, which is what makes the franchise so impressive and compelling. Marvel's world is everything that D&D's is not, at least in D&D's current iteration. Even though many different stories across a shared world is part of the draw of FR for me, I don't need D&D to be like Marvel, however because WotC made that comparison of the current D&D world to the Marvel world, I can't help but feel like WotC is more talk than action. I'm not at all saying that D&D isn't a quality product, it's just for me the shine of WotC is no longer there.
I think the biggest indicator for me that I was ready to shift my focus was my lukewarm reception of Baldur's Gate 3. It is everything that I hoped for and more for a current generation Forgotten Realms/D&D video game, and yet I was just ok about it. Here is FINALLY something that I spent so many years dreaming about, getting more and more hungry for it following the flops of Sword Coast Legends and the Dark Alliance reboot, but when it finally happened, I was just ok about it. It's a fantastic game and 110% deserving of its awards and its huge fan acclamation, and yet I was just ok about it. Don't get me wrong, I still enjoyed the game, but I can't see myself playing it again.
I'm still happy to help and support the people in this fandom, be it by answering lore questions, suggesting novels to read, pointing the way to resources, or with more serious matters. I don't know how much new content I'll make though, I've got a bunch of WIPs in terms of art and writing, as well as miscellaneous drafts containing information about the world, but I don't know if I'll ever feel like finishing them/polishing them up to post. It's very freeing to no longer feel compelled to read each new Drizzt book because the drop in quality with each new installment has really been immense, and I'm a lot happier not spending those hours consuming really badly-written media. I do feel bad for no longer providing for those who want to know what's happening in the newer books but don't feel like reading them and who want to know a non-sycophantic summary of them, but hey, maybe someone will step up and fill in the summaries for the books. I'm not really sure why none of the diehard Drizzt/Salvatore super fans have undertaken the task since Hero. Wikis are editable by anyone, but the Wiki staff do try to make sure that everything is objective and factual.
If you're trying to find my old stuff, I'm sorry that my tags are kind of all over the place, I never got around to organizing them better. 😅 I *think* I've reblogged all of my LoD art to my otp-jartemis sideblog, but now that I look at it I see that's probably not the case. If you like my art though and want to continue seeing it even if it's not in this fandom, it'll be on my non-fandom specific blog: sno4wy.tumblr.com
This isn't goodbye, as I'll still be here now and then, I just won't be as invested, which is honestly a really great feeling. :> ]]
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solvicrafts · 1 year
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Gotta say it's kind of disheartening how I can't just like... look up anything drow-related, Drizzt/RAS or not, without seeing just wave after wave of negativity.
'Hey, I kinda want some ideas for drow-inspired cuisine I can try making at some point in the future for one of my D&D sessions, let's see what--"
DROW ARE THE WORST AND MOST EDGIEST RACE EVER. DID YOU KNOW THEY EAT THEIR UNBORN TWINS? ANYWAY THEY'RE ALL EVIL AND DRIZZT IS STUPID. DRIZZT ESPECIALLY. GOSH, HE'S THE WORST. HE RUINED DROW.
"...okaaaay. Well, speaking of Drizzt, I wonder how many people read that Lolth's Warrior excerpt. I kinda wanna talk about i--"
THE NOVELS ARE FUCKING TERRIBLE AND RAS IS AN AWFUL WRITER. THE LAST GOOD NOVEL WAS IN 480 BC. THE NOVELS ARE SO STUPID AND ANYONE WHO LIKES THEM IS JUST AN OBSESSED FANBOY.
"You know what? Never mind. :("
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n1ghtwarden · 6 months
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reading lolth's warrior and WDYM quenthel, of ALL PEOPLE, started a religious schism, lolth admitted the baenre are her divinely appointed rulers (who she is POSSIBLY trying to oust) and sos'umptu is KINDA working with lolth to oust quenthel???
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kmenkea · 6 months
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Bloodlust - Part 6
Summary: "Leeith felt so small upon looking at the fierce eyes of valsharess Lyneerlay and so, so miniscule, compared to bright red eyes that stared from even higher than the throne."
"No matter what you say, no matter what you will do, everything that befell you, was caused by your actions. Be a man and accept the consequences.” She chuckled.
A/N: A shorter "bonus" chapter going on the backstory for Leeith. Originally it was supposed to be part of a much longer chapter, but I decided to cut it in two for ease of reading. I will most probably post part 7 soon, which will be much beefier.
Word count: 2k
Read on AO3
The days flew by in almost an instant. The blighted village was safe. So was the cave north of it, after the gnoll infestation was taken care of; Wakueen’s rest instead was burnt to a crisp because of some drows apparently, but not Leeith herself. The fact that there were still flaming fists alive, meant that whoever did this, wasn’t exactly Lolth’s chosen warrior. But among all the rubble and blood, they did find a small treasure: leather drow armour. It had some light scratching and it was faded, but it was comfortable and well fitting as ever. 
The situation at camp wasn’t half as good. Wyll’s patron, a whole fucking devil, showed up. Mizora or whatever her name was, wanting to show off how much more powerful than lowly mortals she was. The drow's patreon was surely a thousand times more powerful than this overgrown imp and she would have easily banished her back to the hells.
But Leeith wasn't. Not yet anyway. She played nice, mediated with her, hiding her disgust. Mizora left without too much trouble, only deciding to give wyll the look of a tiefling. 
They took care of the Zhentarim cove: it’s not like she wanted to kill all of them, but apparently returning their little bottle without the heavy chest was some kind of sin for them and they decided to attack first. It was just a bottle, why were they being so annoying with it? Maybe one day she’d know. She looted everything around, the slave they kept ran away before she could drag him to camp, but in exchange for the man, she found something much more interesting: behind an illusory wall - badly constructed, since she easily saw it wobble around - there was a lift, sinking deep in the underdark. 
The drow’s eyes shot open with glee and a giant smile was impressed on her face when she breathed in that still, cold air. She could hear the rush of the river below her, the critters hiding behind the rocks, the cry of monsters from the depths below her. She couldn't care about what her friends were saying behind her, too enthralled by her home. Right, her friends. The look on their faces was anything but joyful. Shadowheart was holding up a torch just to be able to see and even Karlach and Astarion had trouble in the deep darkness of her home. She heard another monster cry, close to where they stood and sighed. 
“Uh, lets just go back. You aren’t ready.” Said Leeith, defeated and homesick. Her words were met with general relief, which only stung harder. 
“Oh thank gods. I didn’t get infected by a mindflayer to see the sun just to die in this horrible cave.” He was the first to go back to the lift. 
“This place is creepier than the hells: I feel like a bunch of insects are crawling all over my skin.” The tiefling made a weird finger gesture, imitating a spider walk.
“I have to say, I do enjoy the darkness here, but I would rather not become a giant spider’s dinner.” The cleric followed everyone back on the lift. Leeith, her heart shattered in a million pieces by everyone’s comments on her motherland, looked over all of them. 
“Surface weeklings.” She got on the lift and activated it. “Maybe staying down here a bit would make you grow a spine.” She muttered, sulking in a corner away from everyone. 
Her mood that day was foul and only grew worse. She didn’t mind so much that her friends despised the Underdark - she wasn’t expecting anything different - but she was so close to being in her world again, where her eyes didn’t burn because of the sun and where her goddess’ strength was greatest. Maybe she could have found a drow city and returned to her queen. The valsharess would have certainly been able to remove her parasite: she had alliances with a mind flayer colony, they would have been able to help her. Lolth be graced, Leeith was the negotiator of that alliance, even the mind flayers knew her enough to help her without express command of the matrons. 
She wasn’t so foolish as to think she could travel through the underdark alone, especially since her home was almost to the other side of Faerun, if the tree huggers’ maps were to be trusted. She needed someone's help, instead there she was, among people who all hated her or cowards afraid of a few spiders. 
None of them new what absolute dread was. They didn’t know what it was like to wake and feel a god’s eyes on them, gnawing at their soul and weighing it down below the ground. They didn’t know what it was like to kneel every night in front of the goddess their parents rejected and beg for her forgiveness, and claw at their own flesh and wish for their parents death, to purify themselves of traitor's blood. They don’t know the look her parents gave her when she decided to escape and return to "serve the spider bitch like a slave for the rest of her life". 
Leeith didn't know who or what protected her during that forced, mad march towards the closest drow city. She was barely sixteen at the time, basically an infant by drow conventions, she didn't know how to use magic nor a sword. Lolth must have watched over her and protected her. Her divine Valsharess listened to her prayers and sent a caravan of soldiers in her path. They wanted to kill her there and get rid of a possible traitor or spy, but the spider queen had gifted her with a tongue of gold. So the soldiers listen to her story of a great danger that would soon befall the queen matron of their city, that Leeith had run all the way to meet them just to warn them of the danger and that she needed to be brought to the queen. 
The soldiers, believing her because of her fervour, allowed the young drow to travel with them and ascend the steps of the palace and kneel in front of the throne of Lyneerlay Xyltin, one of the great matrons of T'lindhet, the one who wielded true power in the city. 
Leeith was on her knees, begging to be cleansed of her family’s sins, to be readmitted among the people blessed by the great Goddess. She promised eternal loyalty and servitude to the matron, in exchange for being able to worship in peace, no matter how low her rank. The queen rested in her chair and everyone could feel a great presence enveloping the room. Leeith felt so small upon looking at the fierce eyes of valsharess Lyneerlay and so, so miniscule, compared to bright red eyes that stared from even higher than the throne. 
The soldiers that rescued the young drow were condemned to death for believing the lies of traitor and putting the matron’s life in danger. They were made to kneel, right there, on that expensive, embroidered carpet, while the personal guard of the matron held their head up to expose their necks. The sacrificial dagger was put in Leeith’s hand. That was her first taste of blood. That was the first time others looked at her terrified, begging to be spared before their voice fell silent, in a gurgle of blood. At the time, she cried, her hand was shaking while cutting their flesh, but her Queens were watching and she couldn’t fail them if she wanted to survive. She had to obey.
And now, sitting in front of the fire, she was far from them. They would have punished her like any traitor that had run away. She didn’t know if her heart was about to stop or if it was just beating too fast; she was terrified. 
What she certainly didn’t need to see now, was the wizard, coming to the campfire sheepishly. 
“Good evening, Leeith. I have- something to ask of you.” His complexion was pale and his jaw clenched hard, as if he was struggling with something within him. 
“Now it’s not a good time, wizard.” She glared at him through the fire, trying to keep her voice from shaking. 
“I can see that, but this is a matter of utmost importance. Please, I just ask for a moment of your time.” He motioned towards his tent, wanting to speak privately. With a groan, the drow stood up. Her legs felt weak. She had to breathe and calm down. Breathe and calm down. She followed him. 
He was fidgety and afraid when he started speaking, wanting to tell the drow a story. She didn’t amuse him: the man had been way too secretive for too long, but still requested things from her, giving nothing in return, not even his supposed strong magical abilities. She requested just the truth and to be quick about it. And so started a story of a powerful boy who fell in love with a goddess, how he was her chosen one for his powerful magic, until she got bored. The guy could not stop showing off even now that he was begging for help. He was supposed to kneel before her, kiss her feet and plead, especially after almost dying at the toll house. Especially after failing to win back his divine lover and cursing himself with magic way too powerful to be controlled by mortal hands. He couldn’t help but stroke his ego, and that was his weakness to bear. 
Leeith took a few steps back, straightening her back. She held his gaze, silent. The wizard trembled in front of her as she gave one little smile, filled with malice and venom. The fear she had for her life before returning to Lolth; the fear she still felt when her Queens, the mortal and the divine, glanced down upon her to free her of her traitorous blood. It all reflected on the lowly man in front of her. There was only one way to really intimidate someone and that was to know first hand what true terror felt like. He looked so small before, smaller than she was compared to her Valsharessen.
“You will pack up your stuff during this night and by tomorrow morning, you will be gone.” The drow wasn’t going to risk hers and everyone’s life for a man who couldn’t fight. 
“I- please you don’t understand. This orb, it will level down all-” His voice was shaky, but the drow wouldn’t listen to his little cries now, after lying to her for so many weeks about such a danger. 
“I do not care, Gale. Know that all that will come to you is just your fault. No matter what you say, no matter what you will do, everything that befell you, was caused by your actions. Be a man and accept the consequences.” She chuckled. “You’re such a powerful and learned wizard. I am a lowly warlock, why are you asking for my help? I’m sure you can fix it, cheer up.” 
“I, well. I realise I’m not welcome here. If that’s what you think it’s best, then so be it.” He took it rather graciously. “Maybe I’ll find a mind flyer hive and blow myself there. That would be helpful, I’m sure.” He tried smiling, but under the proud façade, his soul was shivering, knowing these were going to be his last days. His pain did put a smile in Leeith’s face, a genuine one. Suddenly her mood improved and she almost felt compassionate. He reached in her pocket for a small ring. It was glowing with magic. 
“Here, a little treat for the road, Gale. It’s been a pleasure knowing you, shame it had to end on this note.” She flicked the ring off her fingers and it hit his chest. The wizard clenched his lips, holding back tears and kneeled to recover it. 
The drow went to sleep that night with her heart a little lighter, dreaming of the day she would recount all of this to her queen and her band in the underdark.
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