#{ wyll and mizora thread }

[fallen-goldfishcracker]

okay but does it ever kill you how much Wyll loves being the Blade of Frontiers? I think we tend to think of Wyll as this serious, stoic guy, but he's so ridiculously silly about his whole superhero persona. He grew up absolutely in love with storybook heros and tales of bravery and all the bard songs and legends. Look at his reaction to meeting Minsc and Boo!

He must love getting to be a figure like that for a whole new generation of kids. He loves the bard songs (even the bawdy ones!) and the title and the stories, but he just loves being someone brave and worthy and able to help. He loves being a hero!

And to add on to that, its definitely a coping mechanism for him. Perhaps a bit of a messed-up one, but hey, its working.

Which is why the body modification by Mizora seems doubly painful- it doesn't matter that Wyll got them for noble reasons, what the horns do- (and what Wyll knows they do, because he's not an idiot and he understands the common people better than probably anyone else)- is send that whole dream crashing to the ground. He's immediately marked as other. Florrick almost completely passes over him. The tiefling refugees shrink around him. The guards at the doors of his own city don't recognize him. I think Wyll could absolutely win the people's hearts back, he's Wyll Ravengard, of course he could! But in the short term, by gods that's got to hurt.

This is at least the second time in his life he's lost everything in one fell swoop. No wonder he's miserable at the tiefling party- I would be too! It's a testament to his frankly astonishing emotional fortitude that he's barely even moping.

[faerunscursed]

The bark of the oak was warm from the sun. Mizora leaned against the tree, the blood from the ritual a stark contrast in its rich red in the juicy green of the grass. Grand Duke Wyll Ravenguard had summoned her to the safety of his garden so that she did not feel like she had to force herself into her lesser human disguise. However, he had also instructed her to wait because he had a surprise. Mizora chuckled low, finding the thought that her puppy could surprise her adorable. However, she chose to indulge Wyll and rested in her spot in the garden. Over her head, a few birds chirped and a squirrel leapt from branch to branch. Mizora stretched her wings, basking in the sun with a pleased hum when Wyll cleared his throat. Turning around, Mizora raised a brow in confusion as her warlock approached her with a parcel on his arm? As he stepped closer, the parcel turned out to be a small, swaddled baby. Mizora's eyes widened in shock and she took a step backward. "I did not know you became a father, pup!" Mizora took a deep breath and stepped closer. It took every ounce of self-control to not mutilate the little thing, especially as Wyll gingerly eased the swaddled baby into her arms. Mizora stared down at the innocent life. The baby was a Tiefling as it had a pair of very thin horns on its head like an antelope and the slither of a tail, pushing against Mizora's fingers. The little girl was corpse blue and blinked up at Mizora with red eyes, one seemingly a bit discoloured compared to the other. The Cambion felt a knot in her throat. Her claws were itching to shred the thing in her arms to pieces, yet at the same time, Mizora was terrified that she might break it. Terrified and strangely intrigued. She had not anticipated Wyll becoming a father. However, the fact that the child was a Tiefling was an even greater surprise. Mizora looked back at Wyll and said: "She looks unlike any Tiefling, I have ever encountered before. How is that possible?"

This hadn't been in the cards initially, not for Wyll, whom believed a devil like him wouldn't be destined to have a child. Yet as time went on, and his reign as Grand Duke continued, he knew he would in time eventually meet his end. That meant that he would have to continue the Ravenguard legacy as well.

This task had not surprisingly been hard. As while he did not have time for a dedicated relationship, he wasn't without options. One of the cultists, whom served as a secret service to him and worshipped Mizora, had offered to be a surrogate. It was an offer he wouldn't refuse. Only with that, the only issue was time, and he had nine months of waiting. Nine months of trying to contain his excitement. And most importantly, nine months of keeping it secret from Mizora.

What he had not expected, however, was for his child to be born a tiefling. In all fairness, he should have, but nonetheless it did not stop him from cherishing her the moment she was born. Just like that, anything else that gave him meaning, aside Mizora, could not compare. Once he held his beloved daughter, Lily, he knew his life would change. He was sure Mizora would feel the same, in some way, too.

"I have been Grand Duke for 80 years, Mizora, and even though I age slowly, I know im not invincible. Eventually I will die, and what would the city be left with?" Wyll smiled fondly at Mizora as he carefully eased Lily into Mizora's arms. Almost immediately Lily seemed attached, as tiny hands wrapped around a finger. "Turns out, Lily is exactly what I needed to bring some spring back into my step."

It took a great deal of trust, to put a child, regardless of origin into the arms of a cambion. But for Wyll, there was no one else he could put such trust in. He had no doubt Mizora, struggled with inner impulses that he, too, felt at times. "One your followers, offered to surrogate. She gave birth a week ago. Though I admit, she looks more like you than she does me." Wyll chuckled, noticing how much more often Lily smiled in Mizora's

What Mizora said rang true, for Lily did not look like any usual tiefling. "Maybe her appearance has something to do with us? Given how intertwined we are." That, of course only made him love her more. He loved the way her barely formed horns were shaped, including the little stubs of not yet formed horns. Her skin was a corpse blue, with a hint of brown, something especially unique. "Funny, this is the first time I've seen her smile their much so far. It's like she is more connected to you than I ever was." Lily's tail even seemed to respond, flicking just slightly as if responding to being in her arms. @shimmerbeasts

[theautumnpicker]

Continued from X @raphaeni

It's transparently obvious that Raphael is trying to rattle him. Astarion wishes he found the devil's theatrical attitude more irritating. Instead, it's almost charming. He crosses his arms, leans back against the doorway of Raphael's rented room at the brothel.

"I think I'd rather keep the flesh on my back, actually, if it's all the same to you." Killing Cazador is, obviously, the most appealing option. It's the one he intends to go with. But that doesn't mean it isn't prudent to get all the relevant information.

There's one idea he can't quite get out of his head. "He had to make revisions. The night he 'inked' the contract. Would it be possible to ... alter a word or a phrase? Render the whole thing null and void?" He suppresses a faint smile. "It worked that way when I was a magistrate, with a sharp enough legal eye." The idea of altering the text at all by carving anything else into his flesh is grotesque. But it's still better than flaying all the skin off his back.

[faerunscursed]

As a devil in human form, Wyll had truly become a loyal bloodhound, not just in those 7 years, but long after the demise of the nether brain. In fact as Grand Duke, and having no longer traveled with the tadpole gang, he’d only become more woven into Mizora. Anywhere he went, a certain Lady Mizora would always be at his side. Wyll preferred it that way even then. And that had been the case for his entire reign, which spanned the entirety of a humans life span.

By the end of century, there was no way of telling where Wyll ended and Mizora began. They were no longer on opposite sides of the same coin, but both sides simultaneously. No whisper in his ear went ignored. After all, Wyll had gotten what he wanted; to take that power away from his father, and to be someone so much more. And with Mizora at his side he accomplished this. Not only that but established that she had a foothold, and crime had been cut drastically thanks to those who devoted themselves to her, alto and some degree him.

Though that did not mean he didn’t set his boundaries. After all, he still had a soul, and so long as he breathed, the safety of his people did matter. Including the young who he would never allow to interact with devils of any sort. Also the various warlocks and less fortunate that now considered Baldurs Gate a safe haven, free of judgement and accepted, so long as they played by the rules. Those that didn’t? Well they ended up subjected to hunts.

Now, Wyll was one of Mizora’s haraknins, whom had been used in those same hunts. It was gift he would openly embrace now that his soul had vacated his body. In its place was a fierce loyalty that rivaled even what he displayed when he was living. So much so that he instantly barreled towards Mizora as she yanked his invisible chain. One that wasn’t even needed as he came to willingly like an excited puppy. Once he was close enough he slowed himself down and plopped right in front of her.

As she circled around him, his tail wagged excitedly. Feeling the approval of in waves, only increased that excitement, too. Bits of flames surrounded his paws, not spreading but more a reaction to his eagerness to further impress her. Such a normally fearsome creature, turned to putty in her presence and her presence alone.

‘When I was lemure, I could feel nothing but pain. More than that, I couldn’t hear you or feel you.’ Centuries of being so intricately connected to her, he’d realized had been a blessing. And those few moments that he hadn’t, everything had felt so wrong. And now he would do anything and everything to ensure that would never happen again. ‘I was worried you wouldn’t come for me, but now I won’t leave you. You protected me when I was alive and now it’s time to protect you.”

Wyll approached her slowly rubbing his head affectionately against her. Already he was scent marking her, although they bore the same scent, a small claim of his own. A message to anyone who was not kin; mean her harm you were as good as dead. ‘You think I was a loyal bloodhound when I was alive? I will be more than that now. I won’t let anyone hurt you, ever. I’m yours.’

At their core, devils were surprisingly leisurely in nature. They had a certain draw for the finer things and an aloof lifestyle, normally reserved for the nobility and gentry in the mortal realm. Even someone like Mizora, who kept herself grounded in the world of animalism and predation, could not fully escape these desires, woven into her by the very fires, pulsing in her blood.

Hence why her menagerie too had elements of decorative beauty and taste. While it was not as elegant and loaden with gold as the House of Hope, the menagerie had its own pretty sights: From the stained glass windows, depicting various vices and beasts in a highly stylised manner, to the kennels and shelters, perfectly spaced out and equipped to harbour their respective denizens, to the rooms, harbouring magical artefacts and the impressive library. The floors were covered in long soft carpets of crimson with golden trims, which maids cleaned regularly of the paw prints, the animal denizens left behind.

Nothing showed the personality of the lady of the house more than her private quarters. Wyll had stumbled his way into Mizora's study. The walls and floor were clad in deep brown, polished wood, making the study almost appear like the inside of a coffin. A fireplace made out of thick, solid marble illuminated the study. Its fire crackled and spit behind a metal cage door as if to ensure that it could not get too deep into the room.

If one were to pry closer into the fireplace, one could see that its flames were being fed by broken contracts. While it was hard to break Mizora's deals, it was not impossible. And sometimes, if she was particularly mad at someone for their transgression, she revoked their partnership and let her hellhounds come after them. Without her protection or guidance, these people were welcomed fodder for her brood. After all, not everybody was a monster hunter like Wyll.

Heavy shelves were stacked with ancient tomes and books. Their heavy, leatherbound backs were decorated with fine embroidery, silver studs and the occasional amethyst, ruby or sapphire. There were other trinkets and items, adorning the shelves: An urn with the family sigil of a long-gone family, something small, round and soft, wrapped in a white towel, and last, but not least, a glass jar, shielding a tiny golden tripod, upon which in a casing rested a human eyeball, its nerve damaged. Blood smeared across the tripod. Its iris was a light blue colour, almost tipping into a silver hue.

Mizora was sitting in an armchair, which seemed to be a pillow, shaped into a half-crescent shape and reinforced with black wood along its edges. The cushion was of a deep, ruby red. Mizora's thick, ashen grey-blue tail wrapped around one of the legs on the front. Her leathery bat wings draped over the armrests and lazily flicked back and forth in the air. The Cambion was dressed in her long, decoratively open dress, her stomach muscles softly rippling from her breath. Her golden jewellery shimmered like liquid fire in the warmly lit room.

In front of her stood a painting frame, in which Mizora had strapped a glowing, golden shimmering sheat, which had a strangely liquid or fleshy substance. Upon it, Mizora had tattooed a variety of beautiful-looking, deep red roses. The Cambion was still holding the long, thin needle in her hand, as large as an ice pick. Its end had a little, blue crystal, woven into a mess of iron strands. The needle's tip was coated in viscous, red paint.

Hearing Wyll's voice in her head, Mizora's breath hitched in her throat. A serene smile spread across her lips as she placed the needle on a small plate, covered in paint splatters. Oh, how she had missed her puppy's voice! For the last thirty or more years, Mizora had been by Wyll's side, and, thanks to the sending stone in his eye, nothing he had experienced had been out of her reach. Thus when he had breathed his final breath in the midst of slaying a great beast, the fact that Mizora for a short while had not been able to access Wyll's mind had felt incredibly alien to her. She would never say it out loud, but she had grown accustomed to her pupster being by her side.

"Wyll..."

Her voice was soft and affectionate as Mizora turned around to look down at the latest addition to her hell-beast menagerie. Favourable eyes drank in Wyll's new appearance: From his sleek, muscular body, to his dark reddish brown, almost pitch-black fur to the large horns, adorning his temple, to the sending stone, which had comfortably been slipped into his empty eye socket. Just like the last time, it looked like the item belonged on Wyll's face.

Mizora rose from her seat. She purred: "My, my... Haven't you gotten a lovely glow-up, puppy? Come here. I'd like to examine my latest masterpiece." She raised her hand, curled her fingers into a loose fist and yanked it backwards. Wyll was thrust forward as if he had just been pulled by a magical chain, looped around his neck. The motion was familiar, a part of their dance ever since Wyll had been very young.

"Sit", Mizora commanded once Wyll stood in front of her. As he obliged to her demand and sat down on the floor, the Cambion gave a wolfish grin. "Good boy", she praised Wyll, "Now stay." Mizora began to walk around the haraknin, properly taking him in from all sides. Her eyes roamed across his body as if she were devouring him through sight alone.

Finally, the Cambion stopped before Wyll once more. Mizora said: "You, my pet, are exquisite. You have already looked much better as a devil, but now... Now you look even more magnificent." Her hand rustled the fur behind his ears and scratched over his horns.

Mizora finally remarked on Wyll's statement: "Wyll, you have been one of my best investments in the last thirty years or so. You have been one of the most loyal bloodhounds, I have ever had the fortune of coming across. Why wouldn't I reward my favourite pet for having served me so well? You are more than any mere lemure could ever dream of being. You and I will do great things together."

[whatusername00]

Which Baldur's Gate Characters Know How To Lace Up Their Clothing - Camp Edition

I got this idea because I noticed Gortash's shirt isn't laced properly, and then noticed Astarion's shirt isn't laced properly, so now I need to look at as many characters as I can because I can't stop noticing. And I'm about to spend too much time on this for it to stay in my brain. Starting with all characters who appear at camp (main party + others.)

Shadowheart, Lae'zel, Gale, Withers, Aylin, Mizora, Duke Ravenguard, Emmaline, and Arnell don't have lacing on their camp outfits.

Starting with the default clothes for Tav. Yes, they know how to lace their shirt. Good job. This particular Tav is Durge, so it's good to know he didn't forget how when his brain got Swiss'd. However, it's not perfectly consistent because on the bottom 2 sets of eyelets he threads from the outside, but the third set he threads from the inside. Though this is probably intentional so the lacing doesn't hang on the inside of his shirt, so 9/10.

Astarion, baby boy, you were so close. But unfortunately there are two pairs of eyelets where he threads one side from the outside and one from the inside. For someone who wants to appear so put together, you think he could take the two extra braincells to lace his shirt consistently. 7/10.

Threaded consistently the whole way through...with one side. Why didn't you finish lacing your shirt? Why even lace one side if you weren't going to lace the other? Why isn't the lacing that you didn't finish shorter than the one that you did finish? All questions I can't answer because I cannot ask. 7/10 at least it's consistent.

I couldn't get a good in game screenshot of Karlach since her lacing is on her pants, but I found a texture rip so I can work with it. So the lacing here is the same all the way through, super consistent, *mwah*, but...it's sneakily unnecessarily complicated. Typically, the lacing that laces from the inside to outside would sit on top, but it's not that way on her pants. She pulls the lacing through the eyelet, then threads it under the other part of the cross, then threads it through the top of the next eyelet. And with as much lacing as her pants have, this must have taken forever for no extra benefit. It would have been easier to let it sit on top. 8/10 its pretty though.

Halsin. Beautiful. Gorgeous. I choose to believe the knots are hidden on the inside. No other notes. 10/10.

I've never actually recruited Minthara so I took a picture from the BG3 wiki. Just like Halsin, beautiful. Again, I choose to believe the ends are hidden on the inside. 10/10.

Jaheira's pants lace the same way Halsin's shirt does: perfectly. Though if the knot is hidden on the inside, I feel like that would be more uncomfortable, so I'm gonna headcannon that it ties at her waist under her shirt. Other than that, 10/10.

Minsc's shirt uses the same model as Wyll's so everything I said there applies here, though I feel like it makes more sense for Minsc. My real gripe here is that Minsc is a liar. Talking 'bout some thrice laced pants, but I didn't see any lacing on those pants. How dare he trick me in this way. 6/10 I don't like being lied to.

Yenna's mom may be dead, but she made sure her baby knew how to lace her shirt before she did. She may have gotten kidnapped by Orin, but she looked put together while doing it. Perfect 10/10. She deserves it after what she went through.

After being dead for 100 years, Isobel didn't forget how to lace her armor. Gotta be put together to see her girlfriend again. 10/10 Isobel can do no wrong.

Volo...I don't know what you've done to the front of your pants but it doesn't look good. Some of those crosses are missing. It looks sloppy. What is this. This is something I would do as a joke to see if anyone noticed. Well I noticed and I hate it. 2/10 it keeps your pants closed I guess.

That's it for the camp. I'll link other sets of characters below as I do them.

Tieflings

[my-fool]

I feel like Wyll is interested in courtship and marriage but I don't think he sees the ideas clearly nor would they be necessarily good for him now let me explain

Courtship

I think courtship allows Wyll to frame emotional intimacy in a way that feels safe and he understands. He is a guy who has not had a positive, intimate relationship of any kind (romantic or platonic) in nearly a decade so he does not have any framework for it

Courtly language is a method of expressing your attraction which is diametrically opposite to Mizora's constant creepy oozing innuendos

Courtship gives him a script and allows him to avoid the dangers of sharing his unique, organic thoughts, instead he can fall back on poetry and cliché

Courtship allows him to express attraction while putting off and tabling actual intimacy.

Similarly mawwiage

Marriage is a shorthand for "time in my life when everything will be okay" so obviously Wyll wants to get there as fast as possible

In a world without sexism or homophobia (or Christianity), marriage's only romantic appeal is emotional stability. Naturally, this is something Wyll craves.

Marriage allows him to feel like he's worthy of his partner and it's OK to want to fuck them and it doesn't make him evil or predatory

Marriage is fundamentally a "someday someday" time. When we're married we'll do this and do that, so we don't have to confront everything right now. We can put it off. This contradicts the first point but i do think its possible to chase something that you, on some level, want to be far away from.

So this kind of romantic thread is very in character for Wyll to want but I still am not sure he understands what it is or is ready for it

[madwomansapologist]

i love everybody because i love you

Meet Kind!Druid!Tav | More Weirdos | AO3

synopsis: It doesn't matter what their first impressions of you were, they certainly did not expect you to be so important in their lifes. And as the days passes, each one of your companions need to understand a simple fact: they love you. They all love you.

warnings: a sequel to that (you don't need to read if you don't want to). song "strawberry blond". companions (lae'zel, halsin) x druid!tav. background cast (alfira, mirkon, scratch, owlbear, shadowheart, astarion, wyll, mizora, karlach, minthara). lae'zel love language is pressing a dagger against your throat. i accidentaly made her somewhat a stalker?? there is a high chance minthara doesn't sound like her because i killed her like two onversations in. if you discover which animated character is my biggest inspiration for this tav i will give you a reward.

In a harsh world, people are supossed to shield themselfs from even the possibility of danger. Is the only rational response to the ambiguity of chaos. What those who crave to survive must learn, what those who deserve to survive must do.

You get stronger, so you won't feel pain. Because to feel pain is to remind your soul that one day your body will perish. To get stronger is to forget about the eventual end. Is to get protected from death itself, even if as just a concept.

When not even death can catch you, you're free. When you have nothing to love, nothing to care about, you are free. That's real strength. To be invulnerable. To have nothing to lose, no one close enough to ever hurt you.

Lae'zel lost the count on how many times you bleed. How many times you fell. Burned, drowned, exhausted in pain. Arrows crossed your chest, swords cut your legs, calloused hands stopped you from breathing.

You're somewhat good at hiding it. How much things can hurt you. When someone disrespect one of your companions, when people blame you for their fates, when you did everything you could and it wasn't enough. It hurts you in a different, worst way. She can see it on your face.

Maybe you could've earned a good end, if the world worked in a different way. A peaceful life, one fit for those who don't aspire greatness. But Lae'zel knew it was only a matter of time until the tadpole took control. She felt it on herself. Saw it on you.

No one would save her, no one would save any of you, but perhaps Lae'zel could. It was an merciful act. To end you first. You failed as a leader, but you tried. Then she'll go to the others, knowing she's brave enough to kill herself after.

She thought you had surrendered yourself to her. That you had come to the same conclusion. A wise druid, after all. Then Lae'zel felt. The cold thread against the base of her neck. A dagger she didn't saw coming.

"Step back," you ordered, voice unaffected. Lae'zel never heard you like that before. She had a dagger against your throat, but you spoke as if you rule the entire world.

"Chk, you think that tiny blade of yours will stop me from free..."

"What I think doesn't matter, but what I know does." Your eyes burned her skin. "You're stronger, I'm faster. I propose you a bet. If you kill me, go on with your plan. If I kill you, that's it. I won't kill them. I won't kill myself. Even if I can, even if I must. You would've died for nothing, forever ignorant if it was the right thing to do."

Lae'zel saw you barefoot at the Emerald Grove, applauding Alfira as she sang. Crossing the river by jumping from stone to stone, talking to Mirkon as if he wasn't a kid but a dear friend. How many times did Lae'zel found a bed shaped of you on the grass right next to where Scratch and Owlbear slept?

A sacreed deer, whose even blood is ever so sweet, howled like an wolf.

Would you turn into a mindflayer out of... stubbornness? Would you let the rest of your beloved party turn into something utterly disgusting, putting in danger all those people you swore to protect, just to prove a point?

Maybe you would. Maybe you wouldn't.

No one died that night.

You intrigued Lae'zel. Before you were her supposedly defenseless prey, and now you are the object of her curiosity. Lae'zel didn't understand you. And she craved to.

So she kept a close eye on you.

You bleed. All the fucking time. You bleed, and you wept. But everytime someone crushed you down, you rose up. For every tear that fall from your eyes, you made sure to smile. You survive, and you keep on doing it.

Strength and weakness merged in the warrior's mind. She knew what strength is, she can smell weakness from afar. Lae'zel was taught everything she was supossed to know.

But you were never the one to fit in old impervious notions.

Lae'zel saw you end a hyena's suffering without flinching, and you trying to hold on the wind when you were about to fall. She heard you helping a bird decorate its nest, and the breaking of a skull of someone brave enough to maim Shadowheart when she was near you.

You yelled at Astarion as he tried to stop you from helping gnomes. Helped Wyll with herbs for his pain after Mizora's trick. Helped Gale with dinner, putting a smile to the usually frowed wizard's face. Gave Karlach her first hug in years.

She saw your every movement. Lae'zel heard you laughing, saw you dancing, watched as you helped your new friends. Sometimes it felt as if you made white lines so she could follow you. So Lae'zel could see you being good, nice, decent. Being you in a way that showed her that no, you would've never let your companions turn into mindflayers. You were bluffing, and she fell for it.

At some point, it started to ache. Anytime you laugh at some tiefling's story, something inside Lae'zel burned. At night, she could picture your smile on her eyelids. When you call her name during battle, yelling instructions that somewhat always end in victory. When you look at her.

She can still see that fire. That same flame that stopped her from killing you right then and there. But diluted, controlled. And still, just as able of burning her entire soul. You have a fire contained within your gaze, and Lae'zel doesn't mind getting burned.

Maybe you're not that weak. And maybe she's not that strong.

She's not watching you anymore. Observing your every move so she can understand your mind. Not a prey, not a walking question mark. Lae'zel is purelly admiring.

For some, you came as a tempest. Slowly, without announce your intentions, your way of being embraced them.

A few flinched, scared of what that meant about them. That by admitting you're good despite it all means they could be good too. Some welcomed it, scared of what that meant about the world. If you're good despite everything that happened, then others could be too. Others chose not to.

But you stroke Halsin as a thunderstorm, just as quickly and fiercly. In such a dark time, you were a lighthouse. A shining light that blind at first, but embraces and comforts.

The grove was in danger, his life could end at any given moment, a goblin camp separated him from the world he worked so hard to protect. But your party helped him, and it gave Halsin the right amount of hope.

You asked him to stay behind, and he did so. Halsin wouldn't be able to control himself, and you didn't need all that attention. He was hopeful, not an idiot. But when Halsin heard screams from the room beside... Knowing that Minthara was there, Halsin couldn't help himself.

A wizard focused on the goblins. As he held them in place, a cleric made sure to end them. But at the other side of the room, the only other druid he saw in weeks had a dagger deep on her chest.

Minthara had you on your knees, her nails digging on the skin of your chin. A burning tiefling didn't knew a way to react that wouldn't end within that same blade slicing your throat. She waited for an order, an instruction of any kind, and Minthara realized that you were leading the rebels.

"Is that your leader?" Minthara looked at the tiefling. Her eyes were numb, bored even, but her grin was sharp. She forced to blade deeper. "A weak druid, barely able of helding a sword? Are you that desperate?"

You should've cried. You should've beg for mercy. You should've do anything, instead of laughing. Minthara glared at you, sure that you were reduced to a crazy, desperate animal. But when you bit her hand, blood staining your chin, you were more of a beast.

Minthara stumbled, and you pulled the blade she left on your shoulder. Blood ran down your side, but that didn't stopped you from rising up. Halsin don't think anything would've.

"Maybe you're right," you hissed. With her dagger on your left hand, you took your sword from the ground. "I'm not a fighter. I wasn't educate to control the Weave. I can't heal a thing. When I can't do something, I find someone that can. Without their help, I would be dead by now."

Halsin came here to act. To help, protect, kill. But all he could do, just like everyone else in that room, was to watch you. To look at your beaming smile, to see the blood on your teath, not even trying not to get blind by it.

"Why would anyone follow someone that professes to be so weak?" She looked at the wizard, a dead goblin at his feet, her brain thinking of all the ways she could defeat your party. "What can you do that give you the right to rule them?"

Your smile seemed to grow wider. "I can beat the shit out of you."

And beat the shit out of Minthara you did.

With a first impression like that, ain't no mistery why Halsin couldn't do anything but to stay with your party. But to go on with you, deafeting the Shadowcurse and exploring Baldur's Gate. But to see you shine, feel your warmth, and let it pull a string on his heart.

At the end, it didn't matter how it started. It didn't matter how much they fought the thought back. If they lied to themselfs, made you a villain on their minds, welcomed you with open arms.

You have their hearts. Simply as it can be. You have their hearts.

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

BALDUR'S GATE 3 TAGLIST: @citrusbunnies

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[mumms-the-word]

Illithid Souls - Part 1

What’s up with mind flayers and souls anyway?

I know this deep dive has been done before like a hundred times, based on all the Reddit threads I’ve read, but I feel like a lot of the "evidence" has been scattered about in a lot of places (reddit, tumblr, other threads, other socials, etc). So I figured...why not gather a lot of it here in one place?

As with all my deep dives, this post is designed to equip you with some lore so you can build your own theories and ideas. I’ll offer theories that I find interesting or feasible, but lore is always a little hazy so I’m bound to be wrong or you’re bound to interpret things differently. Just have fun with the lore!

I’ll start by defining what D&D calls a soul, and then…well it unravels from there. In this part we're going to dive into the lore about souls, the afterlife, and where mind flayers differ, along with a bit of in-game context. In Part 2 we'll look at individual case studies (Tav/Durge, Orpheus, Karlach, and Gale).

Buckle up, folks, cause it's a long one!

As always, I’ll include images and image descriptors/text written out in case the pictures fail or are too small to read!

What is a soul?

The entire game of Baldur's Gate 3 is heavily invested in the idea of souls. Raphael wants to bargain with your soul. Mizora has Wyll's soul bound to a contract. Cazador plans to sacrifice 7007 souls. Vlaakith consumes the souls of her faithful. Karlach wants to collect (and use) soul coins. Every tadpoled follower of the Absolute is called a True Soul. This game is OBSESSED with souls.

But it never actually defines a soul, does it? So what do the official D&D rules say?

Well...they don't. Older editions used to split hairs about the difference between a soul and a spirit, but those older editions also used to say that elves, orcs, and half-orcs didn't have souls, so...we've moved on a bit from those days.

In the game, a book on soul coins defines souls as "the sum of personal and magical essence," which is both helpful and vague. The general player consensus is that a soul is the animating "force" that is made up of memories, personality, intelligence, and (possibly) morality, and that in some cases, such as the spell Speak with Dead, a soul differs from a spirit, which merely "animates" the body but does not actually possess the personality or the thinking capabilities of the deceased (though it may have access to memories).

Speak with Dead [...] Until the spell ends, you can ask the corpse up to five questions. The corpse knows only what it knew in life, including the languages it knew. [...] This spell doesn't return the creature's soul to its body, only its animating spirit. Thus, the corpse can't learn new information, doesn't comprehend anything that has happened since it died, and can't speculate about future events.

So there's a chance that while an entire soul is generally made up of personality, memories, and some element of active thinking/decision making/speculation (intelligence, for lack of a better term), the part of a soul that functions as an "animating spirit" is what houses memory. In other words, animating spirit (memories) + personality + intelligence = soul.

This idea of the animating spirit (memories) being housed within a soul, but also detachable from a soul, is important for later, so remember this in a bit.

Souls also have power, which is why the game is obsessed with everyone fighting over souls. Raphael, Mizora, and Cazador trade in souls in exchange for power. There are insinuations in the game that the gods want to stop the "scourge of soulless illithids" (Mystra's words) because souls are a kind of currency to them (though, trust me, trying to find a recent D&D source that clearly states that particular stance is a damn migraine of an endeavor). But Withers does say that souls imbue gods with power, so the game at least operates with that assumption in mind.

According to Withers…

We all know that Withers, aka Jergal, aka the Final Scribe, aka the former god of death, aka the expert on souls, has plenty to say when you ask him to elaborate on anything:

Well, okay, maybe he doesn't. But he does have a bit more to say about souls and mind flayers. For example, when he first brings up the topic of illithids and souls in Moonrise, this is some of the information he can give the player.

Withers: I shall ask yet again. Do illithids possess souls? Player: These abominations are soulless, surely. Withers: Correct. - Player: I'm not sure. Don't all living things? Withers: No. Nor canst thou count mind flayers among them. - Player: I admit I haven't thought about it. Withers: Thou shalt think about it now, and I shall give the answer. Mind flayers are soulless. Yet the Three amass an illithid army, void of apostolic souls that could imbue them with power.

A couple of things to note here. Jergal, the guy in charge of putting down the names of people who die and keeping track of where their souls go, is pretty clear that he thinks mind flayers don't have souls. But his last statement clarifies two things: one, that he is referring specifically to apostolic souls (more on that in a bit) and that souls imbue gods with power.

Souls give the gods a kind of strength. He brings this up when he criticizes the dumb plot the Dead Three came up with in his post-epilogue scene:

Thou sought to bolster thy strength by taking away the souls of mortals. But souls vanish when their hosts become mind flayers.

So we know that souls are a source of power for deities and gods because they imbue gods with power and strength. But gods only get the power of these souls after a mortal dies with their soul intact. If someone becomes a mind flayer...well, let's just say the natural order of things gets disrupted.

What happens when you die?

You see, normally, when someone dies in Faerûn (assuming they are humanoid), their soul travels to the Fugue Plane where it basically waits around until a deity picks them up or Kelemvor decides they're just going to be part of the Wall of the Faithless for forever. From the Sword Coast Adventurer's Guide (page 20 because I am, as youtuber Swoop says in her docs, a thorough bitch):

The Afterlife Most humans believe the souls of the recently deceased are spirited away to the Fugue Plane, where they wander the great City of Judgment, often unaware they are dead. The servants of the gods come to collect such souls and, if they are worthy, they are taken to their awaited afterlife in the deity's domain. Occasionally, the faithful are sent back to be reborn into the world to finish work that was left undone.

This is where the idea of apostolic souls comes in. Apostolic, in its most basic definition, means "having the characteristics of an apostle," or having the characteristics of someone who dedicates their entire lives to the teaching of a particular religious figure (in our context and reality, this mostly means the apostles of Christ, but in BG3 it would refer to any deity). I think here, the definition gets stretched a little thinner to mean any soul that is capable of devotion to a deity, rather than a soul that is already devoted. Apostolic souls can be Faithful, Faithless, or False (which is how souls are separated in the Fugue Plane).

In other words, an apostolic soul is a humanoid-specific soul that the deities recognize and can use as a source of power by inviting said soul into their domain. Mind flayers do not have apostolic souls. Emphasis on apostolic here, but we'll back to mind flayers in a minute. For now, let's look at the Faithless and False souls.

Souls that are unclaimed by the servants of the gods are judged by Kelemvor, who decides the fate of each one. Some are charged with serving as guides for other lost souls, while others are transformed into squirming larvae and cast into the dust. The truly false and faithless are mortared into the Wall of the Faithless, the great barrier that bounds the City of the Dead, where their souls slowly dissolve and begin to become part of the stuff of the Wall itself.

Depressing.

The distinction between a Faithless and a False soul is a little hazy, but according to the Forgotten Realms wiki, a Faithless soul is someone who never aligned themselves to the worship of a specific deity or who just didn't believe in the existence of the gods at all (think of Astarion, who outright rejects all gods). A False soul, in contrast, is someone who did believe but failed to serve their god or outright betrayed them (a fate that Gale feels he is faced with for being on Mystra's bad side). Allegedly all the Faithless end up becoming part of the Wall, whereas the False could get mitigated sentences, such as becoming guides for other souls.

Of course, there's nothing stopping deities from combing through Faithless or False souls to collect them into their domains. But it could take a while. Clearly, the more souls a god collects into their domains, the more powerful they become, but the gods are also not exactly fighting over the souls of Faithless or False people, because people can end up waiting hundreds of years before Kelemvor is finally like "guess you're part of the wall now." Your only option to get out of that is to sell your soul to a devil, which isn't a much better fate.

From The Sword Coast Adventurer's Guide, page 25, regarding servants of Asmodeus:

To those not so dedicated, priests of Asmodeus offer the prospect of a reprieve in the afterlife. All souls wait on the Fugue Plane for a deity's pleasure, which determines where a soul will spend the rest of eternity. Those who lived their lives most in keeping with a deity's outlook are taken first. Others, who have transgressed in the eyes of their favored god or have not followed any particular ethos, might wait centuries before Kelemvor judges where they go. People who fear such a fate can pray to Asmodeus, his priests say, and in return a devil will grant a waiting soul some comfort.

This makes me infer two things: first, that the gods are kind of picky about which souls they want to join their domain (regardless of what actually happens to that soul in a deity's domain, which is a topic for a different post entirely, because the results may vary) and therefore the gods aren't just going to go with any soul that ends up in the Fugue Plane. Second, that the gods aren't exactly in a hurry to choose among wandering souls, likely because the Material Plane just keeps producing and destroying mortals, resulting in a constant flow of souls.

We see a glimpse of a god's perspective on the influx of souls when Gale confronts Mystra in the Stormshore Tabernacle (in this case, when you play him as an Origin):

Gale: You're one to talk. How many innocents were you prepared to sacrifice if I detonated the orb? Mystra: Such eddies are unexpectional. Souls arrive and depart your plane with every tide, in circumstances just and unjust. The Weave cannot be lost because we are unwilling to cause a ripple. And that is what is at stake.

She then goes on to say "With each day that passes, the elder brain threatens to become a new kind of god, its worshippers a scourge of soulless illithids." This is what's at stake. The loss of souls on the Material Plane.

The Absolute plot threatens that cycle of birth and death, of souls arriving and departing. But how, exactly, is the mind flayer plot a threat?

Well, for one, if everyone with a tadpole turns into an illithid (which doesn't have an apostolic soul, Withers is adamant about this), and then all the illithids kill all the non-illithids...who is making new babies with apostolic souls? And if there are no new fresh souls, eventually the deities will just also die out, since no one will be left to believe in them and thus their powers will diminish and eventually fade. It might take a few hundred years, but it still spells death for everyone involved.

The irony here is that it means the Dead Three gambled and lost even if their plan to ascend a Netherbrain ends with a success, such as when Tav or Durge decides to dominate the world by controlling the Netherbrain. Either the brain is destroyed and they lose, or the Netherbrain successfully completes its Grand Design and they really lose, because the only winner here after a thousand years would be the Netherbrain. Thus we have Withers taunting them in the post-epilogue scene by asking if they really thought their ploy would succeed.

Okay...so we know that mind flayers killing everyone on the planet is a bad idea because it means that apostolic souls stop arriving in the Fugue Plane. But what about mind flayers? If they don't have apostolic souls, do they have ANY soul worth eternal currency?

Remember, the only way to create more mind flayers is to tadpole a humanoid creature. Without humanoids, mind flayers can't reproduce. But when humanoids turn into mind flayers, they allegedly lose their souls. Right?

Withers says souls "vanish" when the body turns into a mind flayer. But this is vague, and thus allows for a few different theories. Perhaps souls move on to the Fugue Plane while the person-turned-mind-flayer continues existing on the Material Plane. Perhaps the soul just becomes obscured and unrecognizable by the gods. Or perhaps the soul really does go poof and is replaced by something else entirely.

So which is it? Well...first of all, let's set the record straight on mind flayer souls.

Do mind flayers have souls?

The short answer is...yes. They just don't have apostolic souls.

According to Volo's Guide to Monsters (page 80 for those looking through their copies at home):

Illithids acknowledge the existence of divine entities, but it is unusual for any but a deviant mind flayer to actively worship such a power. Since they are capable of planar travel, illithids don't view the afterlife and the Outer Planes in the mythic way that most other races do. Illithids don't believe they possess souls whose eternal fate is governed by the gods. Instead, when a mind flayer's brain is returned to the elder brain to be consumed, the creature's intelligence lives on. Only if an illithid's brain isn't retrieved after death would its consciousness be cast into oblivion.

And on page 72:

An elder brain has a perfect recollection of its race's history. Consequently, it views itself as both a refugee and a victim, forced into hiding by barbaric monsters. An elder brain also sees itself as a savior of the mind flayer race and a living memorial that preserves the memories of the mind flayers' prey. By its twisted logic, humanoids whose brains are devoured by the colony are rendered immortal, their memories preserved forever in the elder brain's labyrinthine mind. When a mind flayer grows old, becomes infirm, or is previously injured, the elder brain absorbs it—another form of immortality, as the mind flayer's mind dwells within the hive mind forever after.

So essentially, mind flayers do have a soul, but because they are a) not humanoid but are aberrations from another plane, and b) not faithful to the deities of Faerûn, their souls are not recognized by the gods. The souls might not even journey to the Fugue Plane when they die. Instead, mind flayers give up their consciousness (their memories, especially) to an elder brain to become part of its eternal collective memory.

It's worth noting that Volo's Guide to Monsters puts emphasis on memory and intelligence here, but not necessarily personality. Mind flayers and elder brains do have a kind of personality, because they experience emotions (we'll look at some conversations with the Emperor in Part 2), but their emotional range seems to be a little limited. For example, regarding elder brains:

An elder brain is arrogant, scheming, and power hungry, yet quick to flee or beg for mercy in the face of a powerful foe. It has no conception of joy, sympathy, or charity, but is well acquainted with fear, anger, and curiosity. It is an intellect utterly incapable of empathy or concern for creatures other than itself.

These limited emotions suggest there might be some element of personality here, but it's not exactly the same as a humanoid personality, which would normally be capable of a wider scope of emotional range. We'll talk a lot more about personality and how transforming into a mind flayer alters that part of one's identity (if not their actual soul) more in Part 2, but for now, just know that a mind flayer technically has all the elements usually present in a soul: an animating spirit (memories), intelligence, and personality (emotion).

When mind flayers die, their memories and intelligence are usually consumed by an elder brain, but it's unclear if the personality is too, or if the personality is destroyed. However, if they're not enthralled to an elder brain or if they die and their brain isn't retrieved to give to an elder brain...then their soul is "cast into oblivion."

Being cast into oblivion could mean anything. It could mean that their soul simply wanders around wherever it died, untethered to anything but unable to move on. Or it could mean that their soul simply ceases to exist. No one really knows what happens to it because renegade mind flayers are extremely rare. BG3 has Omeluum and the Emperor, but other than those two, official D&D lore only lists a small handful of other renegades out of millions of mind flayers over time.

So now you're probably thinking, "Well, wait, but is a mind flayer's soul the same soul that a person had before they became a mind flayer?" And the answer to that is complicated.

Let's talk about ceremorphosis

Normally a mind flayer isn't supposed to remember much of its life prior to ceremorphosis. This is partly why mind flayers eat brains, so they can literally absorb the memories of other creatures and make those memories part of the hive mind. But initially, after ceremorphosis, it seems like the the usual animating spirit (memories) of a person gets destroyed or displaced.

The tadpole grows as it devours the humanoid's brain, attaching to the victim's brain stem and becoming its new brain. Over the course of a week, the humanoid body changes form, and a new mind flayer comes into being. The emergent mind flayer often retains a few dim memories from its previous form, but these vague recollections seldom have any bearing on its new life as a brain-eating monster.

So right off the bat, a typical mind flayer loses the memories (perhaps the animating spirit) of the original host, and it's likely that it loses a lot of the initial personality as well (since it seems likely to lose some of the emotional range). Its intelligence is likely altered too, since the tadpole is literally eating brain matter. So this could lead us to believe two things.

First, that ceremorphosis utterly destroys the host's body and the host's soul likely goes to the Fugue Plane because they have basically died. Their brain has been consumed and their body transformed, so in essence they can't be themselves anymore. Instead, a new soul has taken residence inside the mind flayer body, though where this soul comes from is unclear since tadpoles probably don't have souls. The original soul, however, is free to move to the Fugue Plane and beyond.

Or, alternatively, the host's soul is transformed, shedding memories and personality to become a non-apostolic soul that aligns with an elder brain's hive mind somehow. This means that the host's apostolic soul might be destroyed because it's been changed so drastically, but there are some parts of the original soul still left (the lingering memories, for example). This means the host's original soul didn't move on, but is tethered to the mind flayer body and has been changed into something unrecognizable. When the mind flayer dies, the former apostolic-soul-turned-illithid-soul is either consumed by an elder brain or cast into oblivion.

If the first theory is correct, it seems a little odd that the BG3 companions are so concerned about losing their own souls. If it would just be the same as dying, there would still be some desire to avoid the fate of ceremorphosis, but the companions seem incredibly concerned about losing their own autonomy, as if their consciousness will be trapped inside a mind flayer body and their souls forfeit and unable to move on to the Fugue Plane. After all, Withers is in the business of plucking souls out of the Fugue Plane when we inevitably die in the game.

Specifically, Withers can take a body that has been completely turned to ash and resurrect it with True Resurrection, a spell powerful enough to completely restore a body to its former state. However, there is some assumption here that he wouldn't be able to do this with a mind flayer body, thus the push in the game for a cure.

True Resurrection You touch a creature that has been dead for no longer than 200 years and that died for any reason except old age. If the creature's soul is free and willing, the creature is restored to life with all its hit points. This spell closes all wounds, neutralizes any poison, cures all diseases, and lifts any curses affecting the creature when it died. The spell replaces damaged or missing organs and limbs. If the creature was undead, it is restored to its non-undead form. The spell can even provide a new body if the original no longer exists, in which case you must speak the creature's name. The creature then appears in an unoccupied space you choose within 10 feet of you.

In other words, if theory one is correct, and a person simply dies when they become a mind flayer, Withers should technically be able to resurrect them by pulling their soul out of the Fugue Plane and giving them a new body. You'd have a weird mind flayer clone of you running around, but you wouldn't have to worry about ceremorphosis again.

(But then again, we know the game ignores the organ-regrowing properties of True Resurrection for Karlach, too, so the game intentionally limits the capabilities of True Resurrection.)

If theory two is correct, and the lore is extremely unclear about this process if this is the case, then the companions' reactions and dialogues make a bit more sense. They all talk as though turning into a mind flayer means their soul is somehow destroyed. Mind flayers having souls is likely not common knowledge in the universe (certainly no one in the game is arguing that they have souls), so if a person's soul is transformed beyond recognition it could certainly seem like the host's soul got destroyed. Additionally, this would result in a person's consciousness being trapped inside a mind flayer body, so the loss of autonomy would be a terrifying possibility here.

Plus, we know that when a mind flayer dies, the soul they have (whether a brand new soul or an apostolic soul that has been altered) is consumed or thrown into oblivion. So if theory two is correct, there will be no eternal consciousness for you, allegedly (though there's some debate as to how much eternal consciousness you have in the Fugue Plane or the Outer Planes too...)

We don't know which of these theories is correct, and the game sort of slides between these two theories (as we'll see in Part 2). But, and I cannot stress this enough, this lore only applies to normal mind flayers.

BG3 has altered the usual mind flayer tadpoles with Netherese magic such that things get a little wonky. And beyond that, the ultimate tadpole that changes you (or Karlach, or Orpheus) into a mind flayer capable of wielding the Netherstones is a Supreme Tadpole that has been further altered by the Emperor:

The Emperor: I took this one from the nautiloid. I have been nurturing it ever since - priming it for your use. It is not dissimilar to the experience you already had with the previous one. Only this one is much more potent. All you have to do is open your mind to it. Its latent potential will do the rest.

We don't know how the Emperor has been priming this tadpole, but if it came from the nautiloid, then it is imbued with the same Netherese magic as all the other tadpoles. It's not the same as the Astral-touched tadpole (from Act 2), which has been in the Astral Prism for millennia, but it is somehow more powerful, or at least more effective in transforming you into a new kind of mind flayer, one that can think independently of the elder brain.

So now you (or Orpheus, or Karlach) are a new special kind of mind flayer. Does that change anything?

Yes. In fact, it seems to change quite a lot. But this post is already super long, so you'll have to check out Part 2 to see what I mean.

~*~*~

You made it to the end! Gold stars!!!

✨⭐️🌟⭐️✨

I'll link part 2 soon~

Tagging those who wanted an update! @galesdevoteewife @stuffforthestash

[shewolfofvilnius]

How mods + the vanilla game + my own RP made me emotional in BG3

When I started my 3rd run of BG, I installed a mod that allowed me to play as a Cambion (think Raphael & Mizora). A lot of the game dialogue defaults to tiefling but it's great for RP and comes with some unique boosts/powers (and potentially a game-changing nerf). Also you can give your character wings.

...which I promptly did. However, in an inverse of Wyll's story (and foreshadowing who she ultimately romanced) I had her wings removed (and removed some of her most powerful powers) near the end of act 1. A punishment for interfering with Wyll and with Karlach and stymying Raphael and helping the tieflings (and myconids) with zero expectation of rewards. "Since you seem to like the tieflings *so much*." kind of deal.

Anyone who's taken a look at the back of a tiefling body in game knows there are little spurs where wings could have potentially been with a stronger infernal bloodline.

Anyway for roleplay purposes I've kept a running thread of having her wings clipped (and becoming decidedly more mortal) and the psychology of that, phantom limb, and even getting Gale to teach her a basic level of wizardry so she could memorize a fly scroll and do it again with magic.

...the next act and a half kept going. And then I rescued Minsc, with a party of Wyll, Jaheira, and Karlach.

Where I promptly found the relics in the area where Minsc retrieves Boo that serve as memorials to the companions from past games. Including eerily thematically appropriate pieces for where Wyll, Jaheira, and Karlach all were in my game...and the last, a pair of wings.

Representing Aerie, a character in the earlier games who in her backstory had lost her wings. And in comes Mom Jaheira, pointing out "She didn't need them, in the end." all supportively.

Y'all I had to stop my game. My stupid mods and stupid roleplay/headcanons led to this impressively powerful and emotional moment in the game that only I've ever and will ever experience.

And just, damn. This game is so crazy powerfully good and the storytelling is so rich

Anyway this is why I love Baldur's Gate 3 so much. And why Jaheira is always SO worth it to have around in act 3. And why this game is such a masterpiece. A random in game item and some banter text for flavor, mixed with a mod, a preceding game from twenty years ago I still haven't played (BG1/BG2 are next), and one adult woman with an overactive imagination equalled a moment that's moved me more than literal cinema.

[box-dwelling]

I finally finished my first run of BG3 after 185 hours and I now feel qualified to put in my suggestions for fixing wylls basically abandoned arc.

Main thing: make it so in order to become grand duke, Ulder has to die.

Wyll would never do that but he might start considering it if you make Ulder in some way morally complex in a way the game acknowledges and where the victim isn't wyll. Just have him be a little bit corrupt. Nothing to major. Just something where he had to choose between two bad choices and picked the one that's probably best in the long run but comes at a cost Wyll would never accept paying. May even he allied himself with Gortash or any other corrupt politician for poltical reasons and someone got hurt. The seed of doubt is there. We need to water it because that alone probably isn't enough

We need a morally questionable NPC with a manipulative influence over the party. Ideally he'd have to be someone Wyll looks up to. Someone he has been trying to model himself after. Someone who was an adventurer but then became a politician to really hammer home that Wyll should become Grand duke if he really wants to be like him. It's such a shame that there's no major NPC like that in the game already especially none with an a abandoned but major reveal in Wylls charcater development dungeon

OH WAIT

The Emperor just needs some reason to want ulder dead. It could be as simple as thinking he'd be unwilling to help a mind flayer given his reaction to Mizora or it could be some lore thing about Steleman or some weird thing about his tadpole. I don't care. It doesn't matter. Just have it be something.

Because then he can start acting like the tiny voice in the back of Wyll's head saying, he disowned you, he's corrupt, saving him might bring you back to mizora, you want to be like me right? Take his title. You'd do a better job. The city would be safer under your care. You're Balduran's chosen.

The temptation isn't going to be that strong because it's Wyll but I think if you played on his morality enough, if you made him think he was protecting people by sacrificing his beloved father, he might start to consider it just a little bit.

So then Wyll has to actually contend with his father as a complicated person and decide if he wants this relationship or not. He actually has some temptation towards his bad ending, his good ending where he can save Karlach is now a result of him actually having decided something and choosing to be his own kind of hero rather than ones who've come before. His morality has been tested and explored. And his story then fits into the games theme of stopping harmful cycles. Ulder disowned him for making a hard choice and allying himself with someone morally question. Wyll chooses to save Ulder despite him doing the same.

The threads just seem so easy to tie together I wish the game had bothered

[lucrezianoin]

Welcome to my Wyllstarion propaganda! (text version)

This is a text version of my powerpoint Wyllstarion propaganda that you can find here. Each section is one of the slides.

The thread of wyllstarion video mentioned in the slides is here on twitter, plus the Wyll-about-Cazador-vid is here. I will post a new compilation of all their scenes soon here.

Currently if you want to watch a Wyllstarion playthrough you can check my bilibili, but I will reupload all with timestamps on youtube.

Also yes, Wyll does call his romanced player-partner "my star" and if that is not perfect for Astarion I do not know what is. And Astarion mentions "sweet" so many times (sweet = Wyll, but he also reveals he likes sweets) and Wyll deserves someone who is enamoured with his kindness.

(throws wyllstarion fanvideos at you)

Here is the text:

WYLL RAVENGARD Babe of Frontiers, heart of the gate Loves Baldur‘s Gate Hero at heart (and actual hero) Hates gods, as they never help people who are suffering Turns into a monster Has a whole thing about monsters who prey on innocent and how monsters populate BG looking like simple humans (politicians) Has to follow the orders of Mizora, who treats him like dog and calls him pup – he did what he could do to use these powers for good

ASTARION Mr Vampire Loves Baldur‘s Gate (same comment on it as Wyll, during House of Hope) Hates heroes (because no hero ever saved him) Hates gods Has a whole thing about the fear of turning into a monster Knows far too well the monstrous humans of BG (comments on some of his victims hurting him) Is Cazador‘s spawns and he is controlled by him, there is a whole dog imagery there (kennels etc.)

ASTARION ABOUT WYLL (All of these lines are directly from the game, my notes are in parenthesis. All the lines can be heard at this video thread on my twitter, the one I linked at the start of this post)

(Shadowheart asking Astarion whom he would drink from) Astarion: Ah! Wyll. No question. He's strong, fast, and righteous. I'm salivating already.

Astarion: Take Wyll, for example. A man of the people, very palatble, like a sweet cider.

Astarion: Wyll's the sort of prince-type I would have once dreamed of marrying. When I was about thirteen.

Astarion: Interesting. I always thought he'd taste a little too sweet. (keep in mind that playing as Astarion you can tell Halsin you have a sweet tooth, also Astarion will say „Wyll, get up you sweet fool!“ to a Wyll fallen in battle)

(Asking Astarion to be in OT3 with Wyll. For all the other characters but Halsin he says no, but for Wyll he says „Wyll would not want to“) Astarion: Come now, Wyll won't agree to that. He's stuck in the past, and that's coming from a vampire.

Astarion: You're looking well. It seems Grand Duking suits you.

(The next ones are Astarion about Wyll's horns:) Astarion: For what it's worth, I rather like your new look. It adds a sense of drama - a little more flair.

Astarion: Oh, you get used to them quickly enough. At this point you'd look strange without them. Besides, people care more about the good you've done than how you need your hats tailored. And you have done an awful lot of good, Wyll. During our time together and every day since then.

Astarion: Poor Wyll gave you the benefit of the doubt and it earned him a set of horns. Not that they don't look flattering on him. Almost everything does. Astarion: They do! Honestly, that man…

WYLL ABOUT ASTARION (Again my comments are in parenthesis)

(Astarion: Critical fail at charisma check to tell Wyll he is a vampire Wyll: luckily I am into that)

Wyll: A lesser man might sever that well-coiffed head from your neck. Good thing for you I'm not such a man. Besides - not even the Blade of Frontiers is immune to your not-inconsiderable charms.

Wyll: I'm half-inclined to sever it now, if only for your endless insolence. Good thing for you you're so godsdamned charming.

Wyll: Oh, the lad's quite the tease. But he's a charming sort of cad - well, most of the time.

Wyll: Astarion has a certain swagger, don't you find? An interesting fellow. Nice hair, to boot.

Wyll: The charming rapscallion that he is.

Wyll: I've missed you too. And your cunning tongue, of course. And did I mention your hair? I might have missed that most of all.

Wyll: By the stars' light and the moon's glow, it's so good to see you, Astarion.

Wyll: Oh, Astarion. I bet I'd find a touch of sweet under all that sour, if I digged deep enough.

(Wyll: Of course I should have seen Astarion was a vampire, he was so hot) Wyll: Elegant bearing, saucy voice - I should've seen it, the signs were all there.

THERE IS MORE! (For this section it is also all quotes and my comments only in parenthesis)

(Wyll about Cazador:) Wyll: Deep shadows have long haunted Baldur's Gate - and few loom so large as Cazador's. But I also know you can find light if you know where to look. And this I promise: you can always look to me.

(Astarion would love to marry a Grand Duke) Astarion: Power and prestige? Hail the Grand Duke indeed.

(The random outing they organize right in front of the others:) Astarion: Grand Duke Wyll Ravengard. Tell me, should I genuflect or merely bow? Wyll: Forget the bowing. I'd rather share a cheap brown ale and a hunk of fresh venison. You in? Astarion: I'll pass on the ale, but the company sounds delightful.

EVEN MORE Astarion‘s spawn ending is him becoming a hero adventurer – and what is Wyll‘s role, his life?? Being a hero! The Blade!

Astarion also asks Wyll twice about Cazador/killing vampires

Wyll would be the perfect target for his seductions because he is powerful (son of Grand Duke), he knows how to kill monsters, he is a hero

Wyll calls his romance partner „MY STAR“

Furthermore…. Astarion‘s fail-charm canonically works on Wyll!

EXHIBIT B Their romance scenes (the honest ones, in the case of Astarion, so skipping act 1) ALL involve hands. Wyll offering a hand (Wyll always offer, never take) and taking hands/offering hands for Astarion.

(The slides show 6 pictures from their romances: the dance where Wyll offers Astarion his hand, another one from the dance where he takes his hand; Wyll's hand offered kiss; Astarion's act 3 romance scene at the cemetery where he takes Wyll's hand; two pictures from Astarion's act 2 post-Araj scene where he takes Wyll's hands) (Not in the slides but Wyll not has another kiss where he offers the player his hand)

EXHIBIT C Think about the possibilities!!

Astarion being courted for the first time!!

Also Wyll having a thing for his nice cute monster romances and being seduced by a monster? Yes!

If Wyll is a Duke, Astarion can become one of the most powerful people in the city and he would love that

Also, Ascended Astarion and Duke Wyll have this WILD dynamic (I did not post the quotes here but check thread of videos)

Think about the comedic potential of Astarion and Ulder Ravengard interacting

And the angsty potential of Astarion becoming the husband of a Grand Duke and being finally in a position over who knows how many SCUMBAGS mistreated him

Think about Astarion‘s feralness and selfishness and how Wyll could actually benefit for being a bit more selfish

Astarion would never let Ulder forget what he did

And Wyll absolute need to BE NEEDED meeting Astarion‘s need to find a protector

There is so much more! I finished my time!

[lilunebriumplays]

Soooo, those Mindflayer eyes...

While I’ve been playing BG3 on and off since early access released, I’ve never really dove that deep into it until a few days ago, so I’m so sorry if this is already a heavily discussed topic in fandom! But one thing that’s always stuck out to me are the Mindflayers, specifically how they’re always described as having pale, milky eyes throughout the majority of DnD history;

[...] Their eyes, sheltered by brow ridges, were uniformly pale and devoid of pupils in addition to being bloated and featureless, similar to those of blind cave fish.

Yet Larian seems to have made a point of giving them actual humanoid eyes, complete with iris and pupils. Not only that, they feature it heavily on promotional artwork. Like compare the eyes of the game’s Mindflayer -

- with what up until recently has been the canon Mindflayer -

It’s a very clear and striking difference, almost complete polar opposite in that they went from bland and non-descript to piercing and radiant.

Now I kind of shrugged it off and was happy to just note it down as artistic liberty, until I started a new playthrough yesterday and realised there’s someone else in the game who has the same eyes as our Cthulhuian friends.

That someone is Raphael:

What’s more, after losing myself in the Larian forums for a bit, I stumbled upon this post from user Ulla G in a thread about the Absolute;

They describe how in earlier patches, whenever they got to the first dream scene where you can hear Daisy’s voice going “Where are you?” as you go to bed, they continuously got a glitch where they saw a wing tip hovering over their Tav, which they then linked to Raphael when they saw his true form in his introduction scene.

There’s also continuous references throughout the game itself that the tadpole inside your head seems to be altered, which made me almost feel the ! appear above my head when I got the “charmed in more ways than one”-line from Raphael when you choose to introduce yourself to him in camp -

Plus, there’s something odd going on with Daisy and the tadpole.

I always thought they were one and the same, but whenever Daisy seems to be getting close to getting Tav to give in to their seduction, there’s always a vivid recoil coming from somewhere inside, as well as a murderous lust for blood and barely suppressed violence in later scenes which is aimed directly at Daisy themselves.

Could it be that Daisy is not the manifestation of the tadpole, but instead represents an outside force that’s instead responsible for altering it?

Tinfoil Hat Time™

Are the Mindflayers we see in-game charmed? Are they under the influence of someone else?

There’s a common theme running throughout at least Early Access of people bearing loyalty to or at least doing the bidding of either a person or a force that’s in reality actually manipulating them - Lae’zel and Vlaakith, Astarion and Cazador, Wyll and Mizora, Shadowheart and the Sharr worshippers, the Druids and Kagha, the Goblins and the Absolute. Are the Mindflayers victims of this too?

The Absolute seems to be tied to The Three somehow, and considering Edowin and his siblings have clear instructions to find and kill any survivors of the Mindflayer crash, they don’t seem to be in cahoots.

The fact the Mindflayer ship was immediately attacked by devils when it came to Avernus seems to speak against Devil influence, despite the potential link to Raphael’s eyes and his seeming knowledge of what’s actually happening. Unless Raphael is also working for an outside force. Or unless he isn’t tied to the traditional Devils at all.

In the tutorial phase on the ship, if you manage to keep the Mindflayer alive while killing the devil Commander and all the other devilkin at the helm, you get a sweet sword the Mindflayer turns against you and says you’re no longer needed before he attempts to kill you, even though you still bear the tadpole. Does this mean the altered tadpole and Tav&Co’s untransformed state are completely separate from what the Mindflayers were originally intending to do? (Why kill Tav and the other tadpole-bearers in the first place, when they could be useful Thralls?)

Where does the Githyanki artefact fit into this?

How does the conflict between Sharr and Selûne play into it all?

Is there a connection to the constant references to Netheril? 

To the Weave, to the attempt on Mystra’s life and seat, orchestrated by Sharr 109 years ago? (potential interesting tidbit; if a devil dies outside of Baator, it takes them 99 years to regenerate)

I don’t even know where I’m going with all this, I just needed to blurt all my thoughts into words somewhere and get some facts straight, I guess. I haven’t been this excited to figure out a story in a while. I am so intrigued by every little snippet Larian throws our way, and I am so so so so so stoked for August 3rd to see how this will all play out~

[faerunscursed]

PINNED (Mizora for Wyll, could be a training situation or "something else") @shimmerbeasts

Finally they had made it to Baldurs Gate. Wyll was finally home, free to roam the streets he’d seen a million times as a child. For so long he had wanted to return, and part of him hoped he would be welcomed back like a hero. Of course he had hung on to that hope until he stepped foot into the outskirts of the city. The state of which caused his heart to sink in his stomach.

The lower city wasn’t much better, which brought out all the rage he has been holding in. This was fueled even more by the fact that he’d just watched his own father crown Gortash. His father was clearly under the sway of the tadpole, and therefore influenced by Gortash to do it. Yet it was his own father, and the people of the council who had given him a semblence of power in the first place, and seeing him being handed it all made his blood boil. The party had to forcefully pull him back, to keep him from attacking him then and there, to interrupt the whole ceremony.

In this state of rage, Wyll stepped away from the group in order to better contain it. Only to find that the lower city was in even worse state than when he’d left it. Even more denizens occupied the streets, and any who dared to speak a word to those of higher class were beaten and tossed aside. Worse off, the flaming fist didn’t seem to give a rats ass. He had half the mind to burn to shout out to the entire city who he was, and that he would no longer stand for it. And if they dared to ignore him he, he would do something about it.

The warlock was about to, until a group of 5 or flaming fists came into view, as well as two large steel guards. And who else would they be accompanying but the newly appointed Duke Gortash. Rage equaling the intensity of hells consumed Wyll as he drew his infernal rapier. It consumed him so much that in this moment, the only thing that existed was his need to kill. It didn’t matter how many guards were in his way, he’d kill anyone if anything if they got in his way. So he began to take his steps forward, stalking his prey.

When time just as he was getting close, however, he found himself pinned against the wall of one of nearby buildings. Mizora. In his fit of rage, he hadn’t even felt that she had been following him in her human appearance. The rage still had its control, though, as he let out an inhuman growl. “Let me go, Mizora.” He tightened his grip on the rapier, never once taking his eyes off of them as his eyes burned with hatred and rage.

“You promised me I could have him, and I want him dead, now.” His body temperature rose, as he heard her utter words ‘Not now, not here.’ No he wouldn’t wait, not while he had him. For everything he did, for what he was doing to his city, he deserved all the pain the intended to bring him. “So let me fucking go, before I accidentally hurt you”

[thedragonagelesbian]

The One Who Endures

His body does what Bhaal designed it to do: it dies.

But other deaths, Cyrus has chosen. Letting Astarion drain him dry. Baiting Dror Ragzlin into breaking him. Blocking the door to Kith’rak Therezzyn’s office as arrows riddled him. Spending his blood to bring Wyll back from the verge of death moments before the orthon’s grenades ripped through him. Each price paid willingly, eagerly, if it meant no one else had to make the sacrifice.

There is no free will here. A divine hand around his spine, body lifting, head lolling, wings unfurling beneath him. The splintered metal of the Dread Lord’s bloodletters are arranged as serrated feathers slicing down his back each and every time they extend— exaction and extraction on the battlefield to wound his enemies deeper than he wounds himself, built to bleed in his friends’ service.

Father’s service.

The full length of his wings plunge into him. Chest, torso, legs, punctured, pierced, the last breath he will ever take leaving him with the gasp of his own cold caress.

The pain is more than anything he has ever experienced. He is so very good at being hurt, rage and resilience and devotion to soften each and every blow, but there is no escaping his own body. Adamantine. Nemean.

It is more than his mind can handle. He cannot hear Astarion unlocking Minthara’s chains, dragging the disoriented paladin from the altar, snarling fix him, damn it, fix him! He cannot see Wyll, hands and jaw clenched, looking around as if Mizora might once again swoop in with one last bargain for a loved one’s life. He does not feel Halsin touch him. To hold him, to heal him, only for his palms to slice open. A body that will not allow itself to be unbroken.

But Cyrus does feel a different pair of hands. These, spectral, mangled, bone-white, cross over his sternum. His wings cut this skin too. Steel carving tributaries into the arms embracing him, and he remembers the vision that took him in the Hells. Fighting Raphael in one moment and in the next looking at the woman whose guise the Emperor had plucked from the depths of his cratered memories. No Astral gauze this time, but a house and a small boy and a mother who kept hugging him, even as the blades sprouted from his shoulders and shredded through her flesh.

Watching rivulets of blood run above him, Cyrus tries to muster enough control of himself to protest. This agony is his to bear, and yet it leeches from him. He is no longer screaming, sobbing. Where this other body touches his own radiates a warmth, soothing sweet and suckling at his pain.

“You have suffered enough.”

The crimson threads tighten, solidifying into cords that wrap around this being’s wrists.

Another memory comes to mind. On his knees in the Stormshore Tabernacle, the scraps of writings he stole from the Open Hand Temple weighing heavy where he clutched them to his chest as he stumbled through his first prayer of his new life. The posture was familiar, supplication learned long ago under Bhaal’s gaze, but the words were alien. He had no right to pray for forgiveness— for Isobel, for Karlach, for Alfira, for every person killed because of a plan he set into motion and for every person before that slaughtered in his worship. So he asked for strength instead, that he might endure long enough to destroy the Absolute.

Father answered with a hand around his heart. To remind Cyrus who he belonged to.

But when his heart stops this time, he is not afraid. 

He glimpses the figure that has enveloped him. A kind face, tears spilling from it as freely as its blood. They wash over Cyrus not as healing but as cleansing. Washing his body before his funeral shroud.

He tries again to speak. To pray. But Ilmater shushes him.

“Your pain is mine now. Be at peace.”

And Cyrus, knowing so little of himself other than his pain, lets go.

[harpershigh-arch]

Jaheira’s heart pounded in her chest, her body tense as Mizora’s tail coiled around her leg. Every instinct screamed at her to move, to lash out, to fight—or flee. But she forced herself to stay rooted to the spot, her muscles coiled tight like a bowstring. Mizora’s words were like honey laced with venom, each one winding tighter around Jaheira’s mind, feeding her paranoia, her fear.

Relax, she says. As if a Harper should ever relax in the presence of a devil.

Jaheira’s eyes narrowed, her breath shallow as she fought to keep her voice steady, to not let Mizora see how deeply she had rattled her, the sudden proximity making small sweat beads to form on her forehead and palms. She was no fool — she knew she couldn’t take a chambion, but that didn’t mean she would simply accept Mizora’s words at face value, no matter how logical they might sound.

"I’ve learned the hard way that the moment you retract the claws is the moment you find a blade at your throat." Jaheira replied, her voice low, fighting to not let her fear seep through. "Perhaps you haven’t touched a hair on their heads, but devils rarely do anything without a price. I’m not naive enough to think your mercy comes without strings attached."

She kept her gaze locked on Mizora’s, even as a shiver ran down her spine, a cold reminder of just how dangerous someone like Mizora was. But Jaheira had survived too much, seen too many horrors, to back down now. She needed to show that her guard was up and her claws were ready, even if it was a bluff.

Then, she made a bet — a bold, dangerous bet. With Mizora’s tail still tightly wrapped around her leg, Jaheira returned the favor, summoning a vine from the earth to wind around the devil’s leg. A leg for a leg, as they say.

"Good to know you want the Cult destroyed," Jaheira continued, her tone firm despite the certainty that Mizora would lash out at any given moment now. "I'll make sure you get your fair share for your help — without overdoing it. By the way, I'm curious: how did a devil ended up in a mindflayer pod? I thought you could simply slip to the 'other side' and get out of it."

Jaheira fixed her gaze on the devil, staring directly into her eyes, trying to decipher what lay beneath the surface of her cocky smile. There was a sharpness there, something elusive that Jaheira couldn’t quite pin down. Devils always had. Surely, she couldn’t have been referring to their companions. "Excuse me?" Jaheira placed a hand on her own hip as she observed the devil. Her voice was firm, holding Mizora’s eyes with an intensity that demanded truth.

By Graz'zt's cock, someone had heard her!

And to make matters worse, if one could say that, it had to be the ageing leader of the harpers. Mizora swiftly let a cocky smile play around her face, the sharpness of her impulses, that burning desire to do harm, unable to completely be ridden off. Luckily a devil's natural elusiveness made reading and understanding them quite hard.

"I was merely thinking out loud", Mizora told Jaheira, " An honest mistake on my part. It's inconsequential. You do not have to worry about it."

She still had not completely recovered from her time in that tadpole pod. Her wings still felt heavy and stiff, and even after repeated stretching, Mizora did not feel like she was fully up to take flight. Not to mention the fear, churning in her guts while she had stayed trapped in the pod. Mind flayers were a threat, even to devils and Avernus.

In fact, the Illithid Grand Design had been the one time in the entirety of the Blood War that demons and devils found themselves burying the hatchet and working together to chase the intruders out of Avernus. If anybody was going to decapitate anyone in the First Layer, it would be them and not some alien squid monster.

The intensity in Jaheira's gaze did not lessen. In fact, the high half-elf seemed to be determined to coax a further statement out of the Cambion. Mizora exhaled the air in a soft sigh of bemusement. If she was going to be treated like a predator with ill intent, she might as well lean a bit into that. Besides, this gambit was always fun.

"Relax, Jaheira", Mizora said and stepped closer, deliberately invading the harper's personal space. As she did so, her tail slithered across the stomped flat grass of the camp and wound itself around Jaheira's calf like a vine. "Do you really believe that I would be announcing it if I genuinely wanted the party dead? I have been allowing Wyll to keep his playmates moons before he and his little gang of misfits set foot into the Shadow-cursed lands. I could have harmed any of them at any moment, and with Karlach, I would even have a personal justification. Yet I have not bent a single strand of hair on their little heads. Zariel wants the Cult of the Absolute as destroyed as you do. So, again, retract those claws, panther."

@harpershigh cont. from here.

[bluerose5]

The Price of Freedom Chapter 4/4

Word Count: 12,103

Author's Note:

Content Warning: There is a moment of self-harm and eye trauma in this chapter, so please be mindful.

I don't know how this turned out longer than the last chapter but I'm completely okay with it. We're in the homestretch now. Hope you enjoy! 💙

Fic Summary:

After Wyll breaks his pact with Mizora, she ensures that both he and Astarion suffer the consequences of that choice.

Never did Astarion expect that to mean that Wyll would end up in Cazador's clutches.

...

As soon as that first drop of blood hit his tongue, Wyll felt something inside him change.

The very fiber of his being was rearranging itself against his will. Not for the first time, unfortunately.

Every single thread that made up the entirety of his soul rebelled against it, but his sire had already spoken.

And his final command would be carried out.

READ MORE HERE ON AO3.