Emperor’s Lanceboard

The journey that followed that night was treacherous, though one made best alone.  The broken battlefield remains of the Cults armies cut a path of carnage through the area. For hours she walked through the comforting dark of night, walking parallel to a well-worn southern Coast Way road through to avoid trouble. Without the equipment, nor the desire to create a camp her only option was to walk until eventually coming upon a rural tavern. Exhausted, she walked alone for hours, passing by the wreckage and waste left behind in the wake of recent events.

Eventually, she’d come upon one such small tavern that looked to have been established in some stone and thatch roof barn. Knocking on the rustic tavern door, she hoped that the tavern keep would be awake at such an hour. For some time she stood there, waiting on the edge of exhaustion, a hand upon the door frame for support as her body wanted so desperately to rest. As her eyelids sagged and shoulders dropped a flicker of light from within the tavern could be seen through a warped lead glass window, and within a moment, the lockbolts on the other side of the door could be heard to be grabbed.

“At this hour, you better damn well have the coin! Or my wife will end us both! What you want?” A man crudely barked from the other side of the door. The tone and manner in which he spoke to her made her lips peel into a sneer of loathing under her leather facemask, which she fought back if only because of her exhausted need to rest.

“I have it, I need a room, five nights, the best you have.” All that gold she’d collected in service to the city would not be wasted.

“You alone?” He responded gruffly.

“Tonight yes, tomorrow my business partner is arriving with our company, we are scheduled to arrive here. I’ll pay for the two of us to stay, including tonight.” A simple ruse but an effective one. Traveling alone with no one to notice when you went missing was a certain way to have a target painted on your back.

Before another word was said, there was a wooden sliding sound, and then the peephole for the door opened, and his tired beady eyes leered out at her.

“Awful dark skin you got there. It’s the kind of skin that brings expensive trouble. I don’t want trouble. If you are staying here, you can pay for ten nights and stay five. We got the remains of a garrison here, most rooms are full. Got a lot of hurt and angry men here from the City. So mind your manners, and you can have the last bed in the house.”

“Fine.” She was too tired to argue, counter, threaten, or just stab him through the peephole in the door as he deserved.

Once the tavern door swung open, she’d dutifully pay him for the room and then retreat to it. Within the humble tavern bedroom, she closed and bolted the door closed, braced a chair against the door, and then simply collapsed into the narrow and uncomfortable straw rope bed only to immediately to fall into an exhausted and well-earned slumber. Tonight, there would not be any dreams nor any visitors.

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End of Chapter Reference

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-The character Tav is presented by the name Yvonstra in this fan fiction. She is a middle-aged drow female (human age equal around 30) that is a warrior / rogue who is an observer of Lloth. Through the series of events in Baldur’s Gate 3 gameplay, inwardly, she questions her faith. Yvonstra is effectively the Tav character for gameplay purposes without the Dark Urge plot. Yvonstra, though the campaign opted for welcoming the Emporer’s advances, knowing such is likely a manipulation tactic and is a highly dangerous coupling.

----Drow Language Glossary----
*Abbil - tongue-in-cheek term for allies and “trusted friends”, and oxymoron for Drow culture.
*Colnbluth - non-drow races.
*Elamshin - will of Lloth, or something like destiny.
*Haszak - Drow term for Illithid.
*Jivvin golhyrr - A fighting style used by Priestesses of Lloth to force a foe into a humiliating position.
*Qilovestualt - Drow wine made from mushrooms.