Distant Shadowfell Memories
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Oh Dra’arist….you really don’t need all that shit back I promise :3c you got true second chance! Don’t waste it bucko!
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Llewelyn Story WIP: Spiders Scene
Hello everynyan, I would like to share with y’all a scene from Llewelyn’s backstory that I’m writing. For context this is after he is put in prison by the drow nobles of House Tor’viir, right before he is to be sacrificed to Lolth. This scene is pretty heavy!! My man Llewelyn is going insane and he is tortured.
If you do NOT like body horror. DO NOT READ.
This scene features, spiders, vomit, and blood. Anyways for those who want to read please enjoy and lmk what you think. I am very proud of this scene.
Also thank you to my friend Sam for helping me format this post ily :3
[[MORE]]Llewelyn felt himself clawing at the stone walls of his cell, eager to escape this wretched hell. How many days had he been here? How many weeks? How many more times would the guards come by to torment him? How much longer would he have to endure this?
He was lucky. This evening, they gave him food. He had scoffed it down without a second thought, yet his gnawing hunger remained unsatisfied. Still scratching and scraping at the walls, his fingers protested. Their calloused surfaces split open, oozing fresh blood. Broken bits of fingernails lay scattered across the room. He had to keep his hands busy, no matter how much it hurt. Gods know what would happen if he stopped. This nightmare might finally seep into the recesses of his mind, shredding whatever sanity he had left. Always keep busy, or this place will swallow you whole. Suddenly, he ceased his incessant grating, feeling his stomach churn. Sweat began beading on his forehead, the dark room spinning around him. He cursed himself for so willingly eating the slop they had served him.
The cold stone floor was a welcome comfort to his now-burning skin. Groaning as he tucked his knees to his chest, he wished whatever new suffering he had wrought upon himself would end. The churning and sweating worsened as the seconds passed, then he felt something bubbling inside him. Something was moving within him. Breathing erratically as saliva pooled in his mouth, followed by the taste of copper. He clutched his stomach, praying to whatever gods could hear him to end his suffering. Time stopped for a second, a pause of silence in the air, a moment of calm washed over his body. As if the gods heard his prayers or as if the worst was yet to come. Then, the stillness was ripped from him. Agony spread throughout his body as his stomach began to convulse. His abdomen felt like it was tearing with every contraction. A thick black tar-like substance spilled from his mouth, along with a tiny spider. His eyes widened in horror.
Before he could even process what was happening, the retching came again, this time more forcefully. Droves of spiders crawled their way out of his throat and nose. More tar and blood spewed out of him, leaking from his mouth and nostrils, splattering all over himself, and attracting the attention of the vicious arachnids. The rest of the fluids that couldn’t escape filled his lungs, causing his chest to spasm. Limbs frozen as the insects skittered across him, biting his tender flesh, lapping up his blood. With each stab of their fangs came a deep, stinging sensation that spread throughout him. Venom coursed through his veins, causing him to lock up even more.
Throat tightening, lungs seizing, vocal cords too shredded to even scream, Llewelyn could only watch in horror as they feasted on him, as they continued to pour out of him. Breathing seemed like a distant memory. Tears welled in his eyes. The pain and terror consumed his mind, body, and soul.
Lying there, shaking, in a pool of rot, the worst of the torment dwindled. The final spiders crawled up Llewelyn’s face. His mouth was slightly agape, and his breathing shallow. Excess fluids dripped slowly from his lips. The raw wounds in his flesh had already begun to scab over. His heartbeat thrummed in his ears, the only reminder that he was alive. Not that it mattered to him anyway. Or the spiders. There wasn’t even enough energy within him to wish for death. All he could do was lie there staring at the corners of the tomb-like cell where thousands of webs had begun to form. Their white strands infused with a sickly crimson that seemed to drip down towards the floor. Almost like a cluster of eyes that stared down at the pitiful husk of a man Llewelyn had become.
Moments later, the heavy stone door slid open. Yas’tana and Thia’zyl stood in the corridor. Even in his condition, Llewelyn tried his best to avert his gaze—the fear of punishment for looking upon a drow woman deeply ingrained in him. Closing his eyes proved difficult due to the venom.
Thia’zyl hung back, barely looking into the room as Yas’tana moved to stand before him, her usual malicious grin plastered across her face.
“A shame I missed the spectacle. I wish I could’ve seen you squirm.” Yas’tana sneered. Llewelyn could feel her taking in every gory detail of the scene, soaking up all the anguish he had suffered and deriving every ounce of pleasure she could from it. She hungered for his pain. It was the very reason why she brought him to this manor 15 years ago. Nothing else would sate her appetite. She’ll feed off his suffering until he lies dead on the spider altar. Tearing open the carcass of his soul and devouring the scraps like the beast she—and all of Lolth’s priestesses were—before moving on to the next hopeless sod she finds interesting. Yes, there is not a shadow of a doubt she’ll etch his gory visage into her mind, just as she did with the ones who came before. Such is her nature. Such is her way.
The sound of Thia’zyl’s voice interrupted Yas’tana’s banquet of torment and bloodshed,
“Enough gawking. Give him the antidote, and be done with it.” The other priestess hummed in response, keeping her attention on Llewelyn,
“Such a sight should be savored, not devoured. I think I’ll indulge myself a little longer.” Thia’zyl turned to her sister, her lips tightening slightly. Llewelyn could see her blank expression falter. She composed herself and remarked cooly,
“You will have your fill of carnage and viscera once he is on the altar for the Goddess. He is needed alive. Unless you would like to incur the wrath of Matron Tal’zaiira and Lolth, I suggest you listen.” Yas’tana frowned at the apparent threat. Llewelyn could only imagine what would happen to her if he died before they could sacrifice him. The other priestesses would make short work of her. Her end would be swift yet painful, and, for a second, Llewelyn toyed with the idea of deeply inconveniencing her.
Yas’tana carelessly poured the antidote into Llewelyn’s mouth. Her bright red eyes pierced his face, radiating pure, unadulterated malice. He ignored her stare and swallowed feverously as the cool liquid hit his throat. If he could move, he was sure he would’ve snatched the bottle out of her hand.
Yas’tana moved towards Thia’zyl after emptying the bottle. She stopped, inches away from her face, voice tinged with animosity,
“You speak out of turn. Remember who is firstborn here, Thia’zylisstra’drada.”
Thia’zyl stood in the corridor, her face blank, almost unfazed, watching her sister leave the dungeon. As she closed the door to the cell, Llewelyn locked eyes with her for a moment. There was a brief flash of something within her gaze. Something he couldn’t place. Whatever it was, it was gone. The door had been sealed shut once more. Now, only darkness, silence, and spiders filled the room. Soon, the Spider Queen will capture Llewelyn’s soul, whisking him away to a new kind of hell. The thought made him shudder, but maybe it was what he deserved. Either way, his fate was sealed. Soon, he’ll be freed from the webs of House Tor’viir and released into the Lolth’s clutches.
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Some doodles of lotto flying in his fae form : ) I think really subtly, his wings have phyrexian text on them from all the oil he keeps fucking drinking lotto stop
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This blog is rapidly shifting from a BG3 fan blog to a Drow fan blog with optional BG3 content and I am okay with this. 🙂↕️
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Did the trend on Twitter with Tari. I was torn between this and the white-tailed kite
I’d love to see your ocs too, but I don’t wanna tag anyone, so just go ahead and do it if you want to :]
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09.16.2025 | Minthara
“Rough Pack” - I cannot find the exact name of the outfit mod or where it is on my mod list. In-game it’s simply titled “rough pack” and it has a Lathander emblem on the left arm.
Project Red Dyes by ilikedetectives and amisthiosintraining.
Camera by Frans Bouma.
Captured using ReShade.
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late night dip
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Did a trade with the lovely Happie on bsky and had the pleasure of rendering their beautiful drow OC Syvne. She’s so beautiful and inspiring.
You can find Happies gorgeous half of her trade here on bsky of my girl, Vanquish HERE
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Model: by Happie
Dress: ported from Overwatch by me
Scene: Toussaint bathouse by Belethor’s Smut
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ALTRin got dominated by a aboleth last session and really couldn’t get this out of my mind. It kept taunting him with his “beloved” and family.
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Just mistook a drawing of Geralt from The Witcher for a drow… I’m so cooked I have drow brain rot (in my defense it was him from the back so all I saw was long white hair).
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I don’t have an oc that fits the bill, but I’m still on my country kick and “Mr. Shorty” by Marty Robbins is giving ‘drow man trying to live on the surface’ vibes
take it if it fits an oc of yours and pray for our short kings
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Two of my friends have drow profile pictures and it’s becoming increasingly difficult to tell them apart at a glance
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OC introduction: Llewelyn
Name: Llewelyn
Age: early to mid 200s (220-230s) ((honestly depends on when you ask me))
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Gay
Status: Taken
Fandom: D&D/BG3/Forgotten Realms
Race: Drow
Class: Oath of Ancients Paladin
Background: Guild Artisan
Religion: Eilistraean
Hair Color: White
Eye Color: Red
Skin Color: mid tone gray with a blue tint
TW: spiders, abuse, edginess and cringe, overall typical drow nonsense.
Le Backstory:
Llewelyn was born in a small city in the underdark to commoner mushroom farming parents in the year 1300 DR. Growing up in the Lolthite community in the underdark was quite rough for a young drow male and that was particularly true for Llewelyn. Taught by his distant and cold father to always keep his head down and to be obedient he grew up trying to stay as inconspicuous and palatable as possible. He kept his hair long and pulled back as was the custom for most working class Drow from his city. When he reached 20 he entered a long apprenticeship as a carpenter building skiffs from Zurkhwood. He had a hobby of whittling on the side and when he wasn’t being yelled at or forced to travel to pick up supplies he would sell these little trinkets (rather unsuccessfully).
At age 80 he attracted the attention of the young priestess Yas’tana of the noble house Tor’viir who had him join their house for work. During his time there he learned the customs of drow nobles, went on a few outings with the elusive second born daughter of the house Thia’zylisstra, and grew close with the house’s second born son who was nicknamed Kalan. Kalan and Llewelyn entered a sort of informal relationship that was kept secret for many years until it was discovered by the Matron of the house Tal’zaiira, she was not exactly happy with this discovery as she wanted Llewelyn as a consort. Kalan decided in order to keep his station and his head he would betray Llewelyn and reveal something worse to Tal’zaiira, that Llewelyn was a traitor to the house and Lolth. Admiring her son’s treachery and cunning but still upset that he had claimed what was rightfully hers, she had Llewelyn and Kalan duel. Kalan figured this fight would be easy as he was the captain of the house’s soldiers. He did not hesitate to strike Llewelyn, cutting him across his face. Llewelyn, by some miracle, won this duel, taking Kalan’s life in the process. After this he had his hair forcibly cut as a humiliation ritual and was branded with a spider on his wrist to show his prisoner status, for a few years he was forced to hunt with the other soldiers of the house and at night he’d rot in his prison cell.
One day Tal’zaiira and Yas’tana decided they had no further use for Llewelyn and left him to rot in his cell. There he carved into the walls to keep his hands busy and was once fed poisonous food that caused spiders to crawl out of his nose and mouth causing a debilitating fear of spiders afterwards. Miraculously surviving this ordeal the priestesses decided to offer him to Lolth. But little did they know Thia’zyl was secretly a follower of Eilistraee. Before Llewelyn was to be offered to Lolth she casted a spell onto him that would activate upon his sacrifice. When the priestesses stabbed him through the chest with their spider dagger he appeared to die and was thrown into a coffin to be raised later as a mindless undead when needed. After some time Thia’zyl snuck out to release him and told him to travel to the surface.
Barely making the journey there he was guided by a silver light and collapsed onto a road on the surface where he was saved and brought back to health by a herbal woman named Morgana. Their relationship was tumultuous at first due to Llewelyn’s conditioning under Lolthite society. They eventually learned to communicate and became close friends. With Morgana being like a mother to him. Eventually this too ended when Morgana was killed in a bandit raid and Llewelyn was left to wander the surface in constant search of his place in the world.
Here’s the cringey old man (apologies if his backstory is really cringey and edgy I am still workshopping it and also drow are super grimdark I wanted him to be normal but Forgotten Realms said no).
