#oflolth

Two red eyes glared from inky black pools where one would expect, perhaps, green on white from a half elf. He tilted his head to the side in almost an unnatural motion as he sat in the chair. Slowly, he rose, towering over the smaller Bhaalspawn. Every single movement spoke of a predator, waiting to tear out its prey's throat.

He made his way around the blood soaked table, dragging a dagger along it's length. He stopped in front of her, holding the blade to her neck. It was a moment, or so, until a cold, inhuman, and cruel chuckle came from his lips.

"Of course not, Sister," he said, his voice almost a hiss as he moved his head to the other side. "After all, Father wouldn't want us fighting, now would he?"

so close and yet so incredibly far LMFAO

Are you my Muse's Type Bingo Cards | ACCEPTING

MISC POETRY SENTENCE STARTERS

lex blinked at the other man with confused surprise.   he wondered what went so wrong in the warrior's life,  that he saw himself as so replaceable,  as practically nothing.  “isn't the point of watercolors that they leave something behind?   something nice?”   he asked,   in earnest.   one of his dearer friends,  a dryad,  had a talent for painting.  it always mystified him when she shared her work,   images of the landscapes and forests she treasured or an ethereal eladrin city bathed in the glow of moonlight.   

𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃  &  𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐅𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄  

❛   gouge .   wield  a  sharp  object  at  my  muse .

“wait,”    the ranger said.  “wait.”   the parasite behind his eye squirmed in response to the psionic energy pulsing from her and he grit his teeth,  trying to block out the twist of sensations and images and thoughts that weren't his own.   he'd seen enough.  she was cursed with one,  too.   but he had his wits about him.  aside from the odd connection,  aside from that disgusting squirming and the splitting ache in his brain,  his mind was perfectly intact.  he regarded her with clear uncertainty,  hesitating to meet the threat of her dagger with his own blades.   she seemed lucid as well.  he would not dare raise a hand or blade to a cleric of lolth,   would he?   even in self defense?   it was indefensible.

BALDUR’S GATE 3 RP CANON COMPLIANT/DIVERGENT MEME || accepting [🗡️]

|| @oflolth | sen : [ FLESH. ] For our muses to explore the guts of Moonlight Towers together.

Gods, she felt like she was going to be scrubbing the flesh off her skin for days while exploring this place. She remembered the nautiloid being disgusting when she first awoke on that cursed ship but this felt so much worse. Everything felt slimy or sticky, the place smelt of moldy air and guts. She could skin herself alive and still not be rid of the scent from her skin. She hated it here. And being indoors, inside something living, she wasn't exactly sure she'd be able to find her way around this place. Father never prepared her for this. She turned to her companion as they reached one of the... sphincters. They couldn't be out of here soon enough.

she always underestimates the situation. morgana has to remind herself that she is, in fact, not invincible — and that despite the tad pole and her guardian protecting her, she can die from other things. the long scar that curled over the right side of her face should be a reminder of that, but here she was now. a large gash in her side and blood slipping between her fingers.

BALDUR’S GATE 3 RP CANON COMPLIANT/DIVERGENT MEME:

[ SHAR. ] For our muses to complete the Shar puzzles together!

soon enough he would whet his short swords on that undead true soul fucker's blood,   sol'rys told himself.  he'd followed her lead instead,  offering no argument or complaint when she seemed to determine that,  at least,  a fight could wait.  reasonable,  he supposed.  perhaps balthazar could be useful,  if an opportunity presented itself.

there was a sort of begrudging majesty to the blood-spattered trial hall of the gauntlet,  room a fetching swirl of slate,  purple,  and obsidian accented with a gold gleam.  it must have been stunning decades ago,  before it became this dusty ruin. 

he glanced at the plaque before the first trial door,  taking a few begrudging moments to decipher its text.   her most vaunted treasure.  he hadn't the faintest idea.  sol'rys shook his head as he turned his attention back to nathbryn,  watching as she approached the alter cut betwixt two iron gates.  he did not need to be familiar with the faith to recognize the figure as an icon of shar herself,  an attractive visage with her eyes hidden beneath a headdress.  he recognized the purpose of the bowl in her arms immediately as well,  as somehow the collected blood was new as if it had been freshly poured.