#{ 🌙 i've got a hunger }; gale tag

[ambitiousness]

welcome to "lore is high and rambly" episode 2 ft. what i think might be fun to explore on this blawg

the everyday ramifications of The Orb. e.g. chronic pain and fatigue, the loss of the ability to cast certain spells, The Hunger for magical artifacts, etc.

i had more but i have already forgotten. but i'm posting anyway to remind myself to come back to this.

[ambitiousness]

woe, gale pride icon be upon ye

[ambitiousness]

gale be upon ye. artfight ref done!

[ambitiousness]

At this point, Gale is no stranger to being handed all manner of strange objects, usually arcane in nature, generally with the intent of either identifying it or consuming it for the purposes of stabilizing his condition.

So when he's handed yet another, at first he doesn't think to question it... that is, until his magical intuition fails him. He stares at the thing that's been thrust into his palms unwillingly, brows furrowed, before looking up at the one who has put it there quizzically.

"I don't mean to sound ungrateful, so please don't think that I am," he begins. "Perish the thought. You know better than I that we are all endlessly in debt to your charity. It's just that--what I mean to say is--" He stumbles over his words, hating to admit that his encyclopedic knowledge has pulled short. "What is it?" he finally asks, exasperated.

open starter - for mutuals only at this time! anyone feel free to jump in, willing to run multiple threads with it too, so please start your reply with its own thread for tracking purposes, thank you!

[ambitiousness]

how is this game even real, he's so pretty.

[ambitiousness]

tag allocation post for ease of access!

[ambitiousness]

since i don't have anything else up yet but my promo, i thought i'd just share this starter i wrote for my bestie on discord as an example. note: my starters tend to get long but my replies don't usually stay this long, don't worry. i'll try to get some actual starters up soon!

Far be it from Gale to be one to complain about humid weather as a Waterdhavian in normal conditions; alas, these are no normal conditions. This is a godsforsaken swamp. Even in Uktar, the River Chionthar is far enough south that it's only a little chilly, but the air here is so heavy with water that his robes cling to his skin in a way that surpassed uncomfortable days ago. And it's hard to complain about a little discomfort when it feels like a cavern is hollowing his chest from the inside out, and when there's a constant itch behind his eye from an unwanted passenger, but isn't that just one more delightful little unpleasantry? Speaking of unpleasantries, there's something more important than all of these matters that demands his immediate attention: the death of the Gur, Gandrel. There are many foes and fiends to be found in this swamp, of that Gale is absolutely certain. He is not certain that Gandrel was one such creature, or anything more or less than a potential ally at that. If the man was a monster hunter as he and Astarion had said, and a competent one, would it not have been of interest to have him on their side? When going up against threats such as devils and illithid, one with experience in such matters would be an incredible boon. So what had spurred Astarion to stab the man in that outburst? Astarion's claims were that Gurs were dangerous themselves, and a threat to their safety—that Gandrel would surely find them in their bedrolls and cut their throats. That would be one way of dealing with their tadpole problem. If only he could allow someone to do that without the weight of his unfortunate and inevitable Netherese detonation on his conscience. So if that were true, then yes, fine, kill the man. But there was no evidence of Gandrel being a threat to them. What was it that the Gur had said? Gale flips the page of the book in his lap, but his eyes are staring straight through it, unfocused. The Gur had said he was hunting a vampire spawn, hadn't he? He tries to remember what he knows about the Gur. The amount is admittedly very little, but he has no reason to believe Gandrel was lying. Thus far, he has much reason to believe Astarion is lying, or at least being deceptive in other ways. He doesn't like the answer he comes up with, though. It doesn't fit. Astarion might be a bit fairer in complexion than most, yes, and those red eyes are impossible to ignore. But a vampire, or vampire spawn, walking in daylight? Unheard of, at least in any of the tomes or scrolls Gale has come across. Admittedly he's not a scholar on vampirism, but he's read enough to know that's simply not possible. Of course, that's what he'd said about the fact that they'd yet to undergo ceremorphosis with the visitors hitching a ride in their brains, as well. So it's decided, then. Astarion must be a vampire? There are a few ways to find out. Getting on the wrong side of a vampire or its spawn might end poorly, but the way Gale views it is like this: if Astarion is a vampire, and Gale has a Netherese doomsday device locked away inside his body, then he has a guaranteed way to keep them both very much alive. Or, alive, and undead, he supposes. When the fire is burning low, and the others have just climbed into their bedrolls, Gale figures it's as good a time as any for a quiet confrontation. He slips away from his tent, as silently as he can, until he finds himself in Astarion's. "Not interrupting, am I?" he asks softly, arms folding across his chest. "I've noticed you're a creature of the night—rather, that you've a tendency to stay up quite late," he quickly corrects. Oh, you're doing so well, he chides himself. "Just thought I'd come by for a chat."