Jan 25, 2024
*me killing the last shadow guy with Vicious Mockery*: YOU SMELL LIKE TURKEY SHIT.
Gale: I am so turned on by you right now.
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*me killing the last shadow guy with Vicious Mockery*: YOU SMELL LIKE TURKEY SHIT.
Gale: I am so turned on by you right now.
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During a fight I had I used Cutting Words. And my bard said "You look like Elminster's ball bag!"
To which Gale in turn crit on Ray of Frost and exploded the enemy into snowflakes. At the end of the fight I clicked on him to check the damage of that spell and HE SAID "WELL ELMINSTER"S NOT HERE SO MIGHT AS WELL."
This is so fucking funny to me.
I was in the morgue fighting those zombies. I have Shadowheart and gave everyone the immunity to poison. At first I just had Luaril go in but she triggered the fight with the zombies. You. Guys.
So.
I have Gale in an ice build right now. Luaril was misty stepped up on the right wall. Gale sleet stormed the place. Wyll has push back Eldritch. I'm fucking cackling. These zombie fools are failing every save on that ice. And Wyll is just blasting them back into the middle of it. 🤣 They have no chance.
Thinking about Luaril drawing in her book. And she's too embarrassed to draw Gale. So she just draws his eyes.
Just every other page... a sketch of kind dark eyes.
I had an image last night of Gale cooking. His sleeves rolled up. But having trouble brushing his hair back. He keeps using his wrist to get it out of his face. Luaril sees him struggling. Takes her hair down. Puts it up with her bandana. Then pulls hair back for him into a little man bun. And he's just...
🥴🥴🥴
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*Luaril casting fireball from a scroll*
Gale: Luaril that was a third level spell.
Luaril: What? Like it's hard?
I've had blanks for my bard. But gradually I have been coming up with her backstory.
Half drow. Father is a full seladrine drow. Mother isn elf. They all live and work at a tavern or something to do with it. Father migrated, and HIS MOTHER came with. So Grandma is from the Underdark.
I haven't fully fledged out details. But Grandma is totally holding onto bitterness and wants preserve culture. And my bard just gently pats her "Okay grandma... Eat your beets."
Astarion: What is this? Just for aesthetic orrrr?
Luaril: Oh, this? Let me show you.
*takes out lute and proceeds to play, shaking her hip and making her bell half skirt shake on beat*
Astarion: How clever.
Gale observing from his tent: *immediate nose bleed*