ghostfire

[ghostfire]

[ghostfire]

Even More Comprehensive BG3 Timeline

(Now with citations!) Years in (paren) are confirmed, all other lines are approximations. For my own sanity this timeline is based on available in-game information and not the Forgotten Realms at large.

1450s

Enver Flymm born

Gale Dekarios born (1457)

Enver Flymm sold to Raphael by his parents, renamed Gortash

Gortash learns about Crown of Karsus while a prisoner of Raphael

Karlach Cliffgate born

1460s

Gortash escapes the House of Hope

Gale Dekarios summons Tara the Tressym (1467)

Wyll Ravengard born (1468)

1470s

Lae’zel of K’liir born (1470)

Gortash in his Heapside Reavers period

Gortash rebrands as a black market arms dealer

Orin the Red born to Helena and Sarevok Anchev

Durge begins their serial killing spree in Baldur’s Gate (1477)

The Emperor dominates Duke Belynne Stelmane (1479)

1480s

Elminster resurrects Mystra (1480)

Gortash trades Karlach to Zariel for infernal machines & iron (1482)

Baldur’s Gate’s Beloved Ranger statue goes missing (1482)

Duke Abdel Adrian murdered during Returning Day speech (1482) - Bhaal resurrected - Ulder Ravengard replaces Adrian as Marshall and as Duke

Orin kills her mother Helena in self-defense

Gortash recruits Franc Peartree to distribute infernal iron weapons

Gortash establishes a cult of Bane in Baldur’s Gate

Gortash approaches Durge about an alliance

Gortash moves against the Zhentarim & Knights of the Shield

Ulder Ravengard named Grand Duke

Wyll Ravengard pact with Mizora, leaves Baldur’s Gate (1485)

Dead Three made aware of the Crown of Karsus (most likely informed by Gortash)* - Gortash becomes Bane’s Chosen - Durge becomes Bhaal’s chosen - Gortash & Durge are instructed to recruit Ketheric

Gortash tells Durge about Crown of Karsus (via correspondence)

Hall/House of Wonders test mission* - Durge gets Bhaalist memorabilia - Gortash gets a bunch of Gondian designs - Durge & Gortash get companionship

1490s

The Chosen visit Ketheric at Moonrise, learn about Illithid colony

Gortash & Durge visit the House of Hope (for intel on Mephistar?)

Gortash & Durge raid Mephistar - They get the Crown of Karsus - They get the book on the accelerated grand design

Gortash captures the Emperor

Gortash & Durge return to Moonrise - Their identities are kept secret from Ketheric’s people - Durge impresses the Moonrise Gnolls, but not Steelclaw - Ketheric yells at Durge in the throne room for an unknown reason

Durge proposes their plan to the Elder Brain who accepts

Raid on the illithid colony (1491) - Durge puts the Crown on the Elder Brain - Orin gets Durge alone during the raid & stabs them in the head - Orin tadpoles Durge, making them the first True Soul - Orin declares herself the Chosen of Bhaal

1492

Durge is found by Kressa Bonedaughter

Minsc captured by Absolutists at a recruitment rally in the Undercity

Gortash gets weird and intense with unethical experiments - Some futzing to get the tadpoles to consistently remain in stasis - This is when the name ‘True Souls’ gets coined - Extremely questionable fun with brains - Getting the Absolute’s voice sorted out - Tadpoling his parents - Poorly conceived experiments on children & their parents

Gortash has Iron Throne converted to hold hostages

Gortash presents prototype Steel Watcher to the city council

Jaheira tracks cult to shadow-cursed land, meets Isobel

Minthara Baenre is 'recruited' by Orin and Ketheric

The Descent, Elturel fall into Avernus happens

Duke Vanthampur revealed as a diabolist, killed by adventurers

Guild Bursar Uktar launders money for Gortash’s Campaign funds

Isobel is resurrected by the Dead Three

The Elder Brain sends the Chosen dreams about the Astral Prism

Gortash researches the Prism, finds out that Vlaakith has it

Gortash tasks Ketheric with sending a team to get the Astral Prism - They send a nautiloid piloted by the Emperor and other illithid - The Elder Brain lets the Emperor slip its leash - Magthew Budj arranges for Durge to be on the nautiloid as well

Gortash deploys Steel Watch in Lower/Outer City

At this point Elturel is no longer in Avernus

First Druid Halsin captured by goblins

Nautiloid picks up Shadowheart & the Prism from Astral Plane

Nautiloid picks up Lae’zel

Nautiloid goes to Baldur’s Gate, picks up Gale & Astarion

Nautiloid goes to Avernus, picks up Karlach & Wyll

Nautiloid crashes, (20 Eleasis, 1492)

Some helpful links:

A page from Sarevok’s book: Sarevok - (Murder tribunal)

Accelerated Grand Design: Gortash - (Gortash's Office)

An Offer: Gortash - (Peartree basement)

Aquatic Labor: Gortash - (Flymm’s Cargo Basement)

Baldur’s Gate Temple of Bhaal: Yanthus - (Gortash’s Office)

Balthazar’s Notes: Balthazar - (Necrotic laboratory)

Clasped Book: Balthazar - (Balthazar’s chambers)

Devil’s Fee Observer’s Report**: Himberloo - (Nine-Fingers’ office)

Elder Brain Domination: Ketheric/Yanthus - (Ketheric’s Room)

Enhanced Weapons - Sales Ledger: Peartree - (Peartree basement)

Experiment on Cruor: Orin - (Temple of Bhaal)

How To Build a Watcher: deceased Gondian - (Steel Watch foundry) 

Journal of Enver Gortash: Gortash - (Gortash’s Office)

Magical Histories: Volume 2: The Spellplague: unknown - (Sorcerous Sundries)

Memoir Notes with Recent Addenda: Gortash - (Gortash’s office)

Missive from Gortash: Gortash - (Ketheric’s room)

Missive from Ketheric: Ketheric - (Moonrise, 2nd floor)

Mistress of Souls’ Research Log: Kressa - (Mind flayer barracks)

My Gratitude: Gortash - To Peartree (Peartree basement)

Next Steps: Gortash - (Gortash’s office)

Prayer for Forgiveness: Durge - (Necrotic laboratory)

Scrapbook of Letters: Gortash/Durge - (Flymm’s Cobblers)

Special Operations - Infernal Arms: Uktar - 

Studies of the Elder Brains: Gortash/Yanthus - (Gortash’s Office)

Suspended Ceremorphosis: Gortash/Yanthus - (Tadpoling center)

Test Mission with Gortash: Durge - (Temple of Bhaal)

The Astral Prism Heist: Gortash - (Gortash’s office)

The Dukes of Baldur’s Gate: unknown - (Baldur’s Mouth/Peartree’s house)

The Grand Design: Gortash/Yanthus - (Mind flayer colony)

The True Life of ‘Lord’ Gortash: a skeleton - (Wyrm’s Rock Prison)

The Ultimate State: Gortash - (Gortash’s office/Flymm’s Cobblers)

*an in-game contradiction between Gortash and Durge. See: ‘Test Mission with Gortash’ and ‘Memoir Notes with Recent Addenda’. I’ve placed it after, but there’s also a legitimate argument to be made that Gortash and Durge met and became allies much earlier, possibly around the same time as Gortash’s betrayal of Karlach

Additionally, the House of Wonders (church/workshop) and the Hall of Wonders (museum) are two different buildings in the Upper City. Durge writes that the Hall is their target, while Gortash writes that the House is their target. It is my opinion that they hit both locations.

**no link cuz the bg3.wiki doesn’t have it??

[ghostfire]

People used to comment on web comics.

People used to comment on fanfiction.

People used to comment on fanart.

People used to comment on OCs.

I hate "content" culture.

I hate "consuming content" and scrolling immediately to the next thing.

People used to be excited about the art that other people created.

People used to want to share that excitement with creators.

I hate this future.

[ghostfire]

Since it's Easter tomorrow, I thought I'd put up my fic from last year that I don't think made it to tumblr.

Vernal Ritual

Rating: Explicit Paring: Astarion/named Tav (Ottilenne) Wordcount: 2418 Tags/CW: Established Relationship, Vaginal Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Cunnilingus, Breeding, Cleric Tav, Tiefling Tav, Porn with Feelings, Religious Imagery, Domestic Fluff Creampie

Set in the post-game, pre-epilogue months, and preceding the events of Reconsecration - some domestic fluff between spawn Astarion and Ottilenne. Do they celebrate the spring equinox with colored eggs in Waterdeep? They do now.

[AO3 Link]

“I've never seen a ritual like this before. You're sure the temple condones this sort of thing?” Astarion looked with bemused tolerance across the large table. It was strewn with small pots of dye, delicate paintbrushes, and racks of brightly colored eggs, finished and drying. Ottilenne was seated in a high backed chair, applying flowery patterns of melted wax to the egg she held in her hand.

“It's more like a fun activity for local children,” the pale blue tiefling answered, breaking her concentration to offer her love a fangy grin and to gesture broadly across her efforts. “Lathander holds many things in his portfolio, but I'm fairly certain that decorating eggs with flowers and telling toddlers that they've been hidden by rabbits on the equinox is some sort of watered down version of an ancient fertility ritual.”

Astarion let out a short bark of laughter, then lowered his head until it rested on her shoulder, quite happy to make a nuisance of himself. He breathed in the scent at the nape of her neck, hidden beneath her long hair, and felt her pulse rise in response. It was close, tempting, despite having fed only hours earlier. Despite the magic she always employed afterward, he could just make out the freshly healed dimples that marked her throat, and ran his tongue over his fangs as a pleasant but distracting tingle began around them. There were other ways of distracting her that he had in mind, though - ones that at least should not end her needing to call upon her divine benefactor. Her pulse quickened further when his fingers slipped down the gaping front of her blouse, cupping one breast and slowly beginning to work the nipple into a stiff peak.

“If you were interested in fertility rituals, you could have told me,” he whispered, lips brushing her ear with each word. “I know quite a few; they're all fake, of course, but guaranteed fun.”

“I… I should really-” her fingers trembled, barely holding onto her project. She did her best to hold a tone of disapproval in her voice, but the veneer was thin and the rest of her body betrayed even that. “They're expecting these in the morning.”

“Always giving,” he clicked his tongue in mock disapproval. The fingertips of his other hand delved beneath the drawstring waist of her simple skirt. Nothing beneath. “Surely these can wait if I've a little something to give you.”

He heard the egg and brush click on the table as she set them down.

“Little,” she gasped, shivering against his hand as it slipped achingly near her center, “Is not a word I'd use to describe what you're offering. And-” her words were cut off by a soft moan as his touch found the swollen bud at the apex. Her horns met the wooden chair with a sharp, urgent sound as she threw her head back. “This is hardly a ritual.”

The chair scraped across the floor, loud and protesting, as he interrupted his attentions to pivot it away from the table with the now flustered tiefling still seated upon it.

“Anything can be a ritual if you chant one name enough times,” he purred, going to his knees and flipping up the hem of her skirt before his head disappeared beneath.

“Astarion, you-”

“That's one.” His words were muffled, as was his delighted chuckle. “Shall we go for…”

Ottilenne grasped the back of the chair with fingers that creaked against the rich wood. Her legs spread instantly, instinctively, and she threw one foot up on the armrest as her body reacted to the first touch of his tongue against her, demanding she give him access.

“Astarion!”

“Two.”

He adjusted himself, breathing out a sigh of relief as the head of his cock peaked above the waistband of his sleep pants, relieving some of the pressure and releasing his attention back to the inviting warmth in front of him. Hidden beneath her skirt, he was guided by touch, by scent, by taste, and by the flex of muscles in her thighs as the tips of his ears glid against them. His nose brushed against the nest of soft curls where they joined, and he closed his eyes completely as he sank between her lips. Her slick coated his mouth, his chin, and every gentle flick rewarded him with a tremble as the little cleric fought hard against the urge to clamp her legs around his head. Muffled as the sounds were, he could hear her breath catch in tempo with his efforts.

He needed more. His forearms pressed heavily against the base of the chair as he reached behind, gripping her ass and drawing her forcefully against his mouth. His tongue sought deep into her center as his nose ground against the sensitive nub above, and he felt her hands press against the back of his head through the soft fabric that enveloped him.

“Luc’prjavan.”

Her voice, still muffled, but with the deep growl of infernal that he’d come to love so much when he prized it from her lips. *That counts,* the thought flitted through his mind, but he was not about to pull away from this treasure to say as much - not when she was so eagerly rocking herself against his face. Without the need to pause for breath, he tongued silent stanzas that rose and fell, fell and rose, and fell again without crescendo, until her thighs shook around him and her voice had become a string of desperate pleas for release.

The throb of his own arousal was becoming impossible to ignore, a slick mess of precum staining his pants as his hips thrusted against nothing.

Out of her armor, absent her arsenal and kit, Ottilenne was slight - easy even for him to maneuver - and he growled in appreciation as he pulled and lifted in one swift motion, bringing her down to the floor and under his looming frame. His hands pinned her wrists to either side of her head, allowing her to wriggle beneath him but not much more.

With the sudden change in their positions, Astarion could once again see her face - dark hair pooled in loose waves beside ruby eyes and cheeks flushed to a fetching lavender - and focused on her lips, reddened - and mouth, dropped open with her ragged breaths to frame those fangs that were so like and unlike his. She caught his gaze, her expression open and trusting, and he lowered his head to meet her lips with his own. He knew she could taste herself on him, and still she accepted his probing tongue with a needy moan, always so eager for any part of him to slip inside her.

It was his turn to moan, then, when he felt a thick, muscular form pressing enticingly against the aching bulge that strained the thin fabric of his trousers. It writhed, snaking between his legs to rub with maddening precision at his most sensitive points. *She’s gotten so good with her tail.* He pulled his mouth away, his chest heaving almost as much as hers.

Ottilenne whined, drawing her legs apart and up the sides of his torso, trying to pull him closer despite the layers that shielded them from one another. “Astarion… please…”

“That’s four.” He sucked in a quick breath as he tried to regain his composure. “You’ve one more for me, surely?”

There was a delightful tinge of desperation in the way she worried her lower lip and her eyes darted between their bodies, then returned to meet his. “Just one? I think whatever power you're trying to invoke requires more than that. Or else,” She arched her body up towards his, but came short of the contact she desired, “some token, as focus.”

He sat back on his heels, capturing her tail and grinding against it, as he released her wrists to run his hands down her arms, her flushed cheeks, pausing for a long moment to give attention to the tight, sensitive peaks that had become so prominent beneath her shirt before continuing to her waist. With a few quick tugs, the skirt bunched around her belly, her thighs spreading for him in needy invitation as quickly as they were bared. He pulled at the drawstring of his pants, loosening it and feeling them slip down his hips. Mercifully free from that constraint, a sigh of relief fluttered the lock of hair that dipped low over his forehead.

“A token? I don’t have any sweet queen’s comb for you to hold in your mouth, or breast feathers from a pair of mated swans to tuck behind your ears. That’s the kind of nonsense these rituals always require, isn’t it? Perhaps,” his voice dropped lower, growling a bit with the effort as he grabbed just where the faint ridges ran over the crest of her hips and hoisted her up into his lap. Her heat cupped, slick and accommodating, against him. “I do have something to offer, though.” He pressed himself between her lips, coating himself in her arousal and allowing the blunt head of his cock to slide against her clit, still swollen and sensitive from the unresolved efforts of his tongue. Ottilenne whimpered, her cheeks nearly blushed a proper pink. “As focus.”

He took himself in hand, adjusting until he felt the tip align and catch at her entrance.

“Ah, ah…” Breathy little exhalations from trembling lips, but not his name. Ottilenne’s hands bunched into tight fists, grasping at the fabric of her skirt, as the head slowly disappeared inside her.

“The whole thing, pet. Please…” He'd wanted to keep the cheeky note of playfulness in his voice, but heard it crack as a shiver ran from his groin to the crown of his head. Watching her unravel as he slipped deeper, stretching her with deliberate patience, and feeling her heat envelope him to the root - for a moment, it was too much. “I need to hear you say it.”

“Astarion.” It was a whisper. He felt her tail coil comfortingly against his back. “Anything you need.”

“Wrap your legs around me.”

He felt her entire body shift as she did, a little huff escaping and a press of her heels against him when she inevitably strained to take him deeper still. He smiled.

“That's my good girl.” With one hand, he began stroking softly, comfortingly, along her thigh, as much for himself as her, and felt the taut muscles ease. With a swipe of this tongue over his thumb, the other hand came to rest against the soft curls above her sex, gently teasing between her folds until it slipped, slickly and without resistance, to begin a circular pattern against the aching bud hidden there. The rest of his fingers splayed high, feeling the way the muscles in her lower belly tightened as he began to rock his hips against hers, just barely moving within her. “And keep your eyes on me.“

She nodded wordlessly, keeping her gaze on him even as her brow furrowed and lips began to tremble. How many minutes slipped by, locked in that pattern? Really, he’d already kept her at the precipice for so long - with one more gentle thrust and one more expert press of his fingertips he relented, and felt the hands that had been bunched at her sides tug at his shirt. He let himself be drawn down, giving her the press of his weight as her body gripped around him and her cries - which god were they to? - rang out in the late night silence.

Disheveled curls, silver and jet, mingled as their foreheads touched. He felt the feather-light caress of sharp tipped nails meeting his ear and moving lobe to tip, and he stifled his own involuntary groan with a kiss. Ottilenne pulled back after a moment, panting. She angled her head to whisper into his ear. “Astarion-” “Six.” “-come for me, please. Inside.”

Fuck. That tone. It was for him only - that pleading, begging note in her voice. His hips were moving before he could properly formulate a response.

“Greedy.”

Her eyes had never left his, and her legs, never untwined from around his waist, guided and amplified his motions. The slick mess where they were joined offered no resistance, only a heated invitation to take his pleasure as he would.

“Yes.”

His forearms slipped beneath her shoulders, holding her as he rutted without thought or pretense. The obscene echoing their coupling filled the large room, and even if it did not spill beyond, the moans from his lips and the whining little gasps from hers surely did. Long strokes gave way to a few final, desperate thrusts, barely parting as if there were a way he could bury himself more fully within her. As timely as if she were reading his thoughts, her legs pressed him forward, and he growled, spilling himself in long spurts with the tip of his cock kissing the entrance of her womb.

Trembling, both of them. There’s an obvious reluctance when she finally lets her legs fall open, when he at last pulls from her, rolling to one side on the hard, wooden floor. His fingers blindly grope for hers, find, and thread between them as they lie together, staring up at the ornate patterns plastered and painted on the ceiling above them. The flickering light of the single candle set on the table above them emphasized the shadows, making the fantastical, swirling lines seem to dance.

Ottilenne’s breathing and heart rate gradually relaxed, and he felt her head move to rest against his shoulder. Warm.

“Astarion?”

“Seven.”

He felt her shakes before the sound of hushed giggles reached him, and felt her tail slap lightly against his leg in mock disapproval.

“If this ‘ritual’ isn’t over, I might need a few minutes.”

“Not going to muster a spell or two to get us both going again?” He propped himself up on one elbow, looking down into the cleric’s faintly glowing, ruby eyes and offering an eyebrow wiggle that was equal parts silly and suggestive. Seeing her try to hold a serious expression and failing, he softened, stealing a soft, lingering kiss and brushing a few sweat-limp strands of hair back from her face. “What is it my darling?”

“The eggs.”

“Hmm?”

“Would you like to help me with them?”

He looked at her fingers, entwined with his, stained with a rainbow of colors. A little had rubbed off onto him.

“Yes. I think I would.”

[ghostfire]

Well. The girl was mortal on arrival. Scraps of overheard conversations between the Szarrs indicated that she had been turned shortly after her arrival, though she was nowhere to be seen after the event. Other signs and whispers hinted that she was refusing to obey her elders - improbable, nay, impossible as it were… - Legacy of Ash - Chapter 9 - Legacy of Ash - Chapter 9 (AO3)

The third in a series of illustrations for @bg3-winter-big-bang with my partner, @vixstarria 💜

[ghostfire]

wip word train

Thank you for the tags, @brain-rot-central and @opal-apparition

rules: you get a word and look through your current WIPs to find a sentence/paragraph starting with each letter of that word.

My word is FLAT. Everything taken from my Solavellan WIP to go with these illustrations:

F - For a moment, she wondered if she had slipped - the world swam in a dizzying kaleidoscope of colors and textures and Mairah felt her feet lifted from the floor. She flailed, hands catching soft layers that wrapped a slender body. Sliding against her chest and belly there was hardness - taut planes of muscle that seemed to accept her weight without effort. When the world was still again except for her quickened breathing, the Inquisitor looked into a face creased with a wistful smile.

L - Long treks criss-crossing the continent offered ample time and opportunity to get to know each other and, despite her discomfort, the Seeker now treated him much as she did the rest of the Inquisitor's close companions.

A - A fire had been laid, low and warm. The sweet scent of fresh pastries hung about a cloth covered silver tray, surrounded by carafes of wine and water and a small assortment of cut crystal vials - tonics to soothe the aches of a long voyage. The packs from their saddles were neatly arranged along the entrance wall. All of them. Whether the servants who had spirited them here had been unable to tell which belonged to him and which belonged to the Inquisitor, or if they'd simply assumed that he'd be joining her, was impossible to tell.

T - There was a sheltered grotto nearby. He knew it to be so, and there was. In their shared breaths that held Mairah’s focus, he willed them to be there, and they were. Solas broke away reluctantly to assess the cavern, even in his near feral, dream-tipped state needing better for his mate than a bare stone floor. The discarded remnants of travelers past littered the ground and, with an almost dismissive flick of the wrist, he brought the candles and lanterns to light.

For anyone who wants to play, your word is SONG.

[ghostfire]

Well. The girl was mortal on arrival. Scraps of overheard conversations between the Szarrs indicated that she had been turned shortly after her arrival, though she was nowhere to be seen after the event. Other signs and whispers hinted that she was refusing to obey her elders - improbable, nay, impossible as it were… - Legacy of Ash - Chapter 9 - Legacy of Ash - Chapter 9 (AO3)

The third in a series of illustrations for @bg3-winter-big-bang with my partner, @vixstarria 💜

[ghostfire]

I finally figured out my Silhouette cutter, so that means sticker time! 💜

[ghostfire]

Me, fourteen and making OCs: okay she can’t be a Mary Sue! I can’t make her too cool or everyone will think she’s unbelievable and hate her :((

Me, thirty-two and making OCs: Every person I think is hot in this video game is into this OC and also she gets to be a Special Princess. I’ll commission a propaganda portrait of her as an imperial saint.

[ghostfire]

I finally figured out my Silhouette cutter, so that means sticker time! 💜

[ghostfire]

Astarion Ancunin in Baldur's Gate 3 (2023).

[ghostfire]

Come one! Come all! Come on over and show us your OCs!

Applications for the BG3 Yearbook are now open until May 4th!

You can submit your application using this form: https://forms.gle/NGndpz1VYFRmoGNi8

All other information can be found on Carrd: https://bg3yearbook.carrd.co/

[ghostfire]

🌹All Emails Sent🌹

Everyone who pre-ordered should have received their bundle. Please note that it may take up to 24 hours for delivery, and we recommend checking your spam folder.

Should yours be missing, please contact us.

The General Public release will be on April 27th.

[ghostfire]

BOOO tomato tomato I've just been told this Inzoi game used GenAI, luckily I didn't buy it. time to uninstall goodbye 3D David, I'll remake you in Blender 😔✌️

[ghostfire]

having one of those executive function days where everything is too many steps

[ghostfire]

[ghostfire]

tagged by @mutualcombat and @lyzelky

Surprising probably no one:

Credit: qtval

Tagging: @miniminx @worldseer @lou-at-night @freshofftheturniptruck