#❪ ⋅ ✹ ⋆ —�� ❛ v. down by the river [baldur's gate] ❜ ❫

[endawn]

REFER HERE . act 3 conclusion to his 'personal' quest. sort of. bal reclaiming the rite would involve ascending pax. thereby making PAX a vampire ascendant instead of caz or astar..ion. which, would only deepen mol..ag’s hold on him and bring his body all that closer to becoming a vessel / conduit for bal to cross over into the mortal plane with. not only is the tadcrew saving pax and all those spawn, but the world from another being bent on death and domination. before the crew sets out to deal with caz, there will be a little camp event involving pax where he’ll mention feeling strange but believes it to be the lingering necrotic energy he absorbed while in the shadowlands ( this will be important later ) compounded by being a tad overwhelmed by the hustle & bustle of the city as he has not been in one for some number of years. he can be questioned further and if a perception check is passed, the pc can notice he’s nervous about something. if persuaded, he’ll admit the events at the mausoleum are weighing on his mind. yet, he’ll seem hopeful it is not possible outside of the shadowlands despite the absorption of necrotic energy. if asked if he’s still fit to fight, he’ll assure them he is and it’s really nothing to concern themselves over. if, however, the pc tells him to sit this one out and rest, he’ll agree and say it might be for the best.

if he is brought along, after defeating caz, pax will cry out and fall to the ground as he holds his head. mo..lag wields a form of mind magic: he intrudes upon the minds of mortals as a form of torture. it is an invasive, agonizing experience. by forcing his way into a mortal's mind, he can show them horrific visions. he does this in an attempt to make pax more susceptible to possession; break his will. this together with using his influence over necrotic energies, bal is able to take over the knight's body. if going with the left at camp choice, pax will show up right after defeating caz but not before the crew can pull him out of his coffin. the dawning realization something is wrong with him; his eyes. the light in them is void. there will be little time to react before pax starts attacking the party. a voice not quite his own begins thanking them for returning his rite to him. they will remember it as mol..ag’s when he possessed pax at the thorm mausoleum. the tadcrew can either try to kill pax, knock him out or try to survive 9 turns against him like with hal..sin’s portal.

note: he has the standard vampire powers of being rather resistant to bludgeoning, piercing, and slashing damage and is unaffected or barely harmed by necrotic magics, resistant to cold and lightning, and completely unaffected by psionics and paralysis. in addition to this, they'd have to overcome his regeneration by using holy water, any spells that produce sunlight or deals radiant damage. creating water and having it act as running water would deal acid damage and debuff him slightly. though, he is more resistant to sunlight than standard vampires. he'd be able to manipulate / pull the blood out of an opponent from a distance sparingly, try to dominate them with his gaze, slam, punch, rend, bite, teleport in mist or as a swarm of bats, turn invisible, thrall person or use his skills as an eldritch knight [ gestures vaguely]. action surge, eldritch strike, weapon bond, war magic, shatter, scorching ray, shocking grasp, thunder wave, magic missile, misty step, shield, booming blade ( need to look into him game wise ).

during the entire fight, pax will be trying to resist mol..ag and regain control of his body. he'll occasionally receive a dazed condition and won't attack or will miss them. apologies can be heard as he strains to speak to the party; apologizing for attacking them. he does not wish to hurt them, he's trying to fight. resist. mol..ag will retort by calling him weak or a worm. as pax is addressing his friends, he'll also invoke a divine each round starting with sten..darr preserve me. if the party is able to survive the 9 rounds, it ends with pax invoking akat..osh and then addressing them all by going divines ! purge this foul darkness ! but not before asking his friends for forgiveness ( or directly going forgive me, cor meum. my heart, forgive me. if romanced ). his body is lifted into the air and erupts in a blinding, all consuming light. as quickly as it came, the light will recede and he’ll drop to the floor while smoke wafts from skin. charred and burned , but otherwise seems to be whole. an outcome he did not expect. he believed he would perish when he invoked the divine spirits. leave naught but ash , purging all of mol..ag corrupting presence.

when approaching his body , they can attempt to shake him awake. it will not garner a response. the pc can then decide to do nothing or cut their palm to allow a few drops of blood to fall into his mouth. doing so stirs him to a semiconscious state and heals a few wounds present on his body. propping him up and offering him a wrist to bite will be met with meek reluctance. if they insist, he’ll bite only briefly and abstains further as he does not trust himself not to take too much in his current state. he’ll use what strength it game him to assist them. otherwise, the party has to deal with caz in his coffin by themselves. during the fight with pax, caz was able to recover some of his health but will be much easier to defeat. IF they wake pax up via blood, despite his still injured state and experience with mol..ag, he'll use his vampire lord form to help end caza..dor one final time. collapsing from exhaustion not long after the battle ends and will not wake again until a day has passed. the tadcrew will have to carry his body out of the palace either way. when he wakes, pax thanks them for helping him and laments on his inability to resist. if questioned on the possibility of mol..ag returning, pax will admit he will but not for a long while. for once, he feels....unburdened. that not all is entirely lost, perhaps. maybe there is some hope for him? at least it was a small consolation his gods answered his pleas. while they could not remove the taint entirely, they were able to temporarily banish bal when his power waned from the strain controlling pax placed on his reach & influence in fae..run. if asked about mol..ag reclaiming the rite, an answer will not be given. he is uncertain. regardless, he'll be notably....happier, but attention quickly turns to defeating the elder brain.

ANOTHER THING TO NOTE: if they manage to kill pax, that’s that. he’s permanently removed as a party member. his body turns to ash. mol..ag will not appear in camp to offer pax’s resurrection for a price. withers will be unable to resurrect him. if they defeat ( KO ) but don’t kill, mol..ag will be unable to maintain his possession of pax. he will be too weak to extend his reach pass the watch of the faerunian gods. the prince will slink back to his domain.

[altrxisme]

@hcartsleeved // some prompts for picking up/carrying muses bv why not ; 4)  our muses are hiking and sender is tired so receiver picks them up to carry them the rest of the way.  (for bg3 verse mayhaps??? 😚)

" shoulda known that you'd get tired this easily, may. " the ranger gave a theatric sigh as he adjusted his hold on the bard, letting the woman ride on his back as they trekked up the mountain pass. nevermind that they had to deal with a group of giths earlier— although, their resident fighters and other heavy-hitters took care of them.

" whatcha lookin' forward ta the most once we get back ta our esteemed city by the coast, hm? " jackson was genuinely interested in knowing, despite the question seeming like small talk he's attempting to fill the trek with. that was simply how the half-elf was— making conversation if he's able to.

[dragonsfictavern]

Reminiscent Nightmares

Astarion Ancunin x Durge!Reader

a/n: I am consumed with soft wordless sex. Total physical communication showcasing a couples intimate knowledge of each other. I love I love I love.

summary: After a nightmare of past pains you’ve inflicted, Astarion is right there to comfort you. While you feel as though you can’t talk about it, Astarion will be there for you in other ways until you can. He will always be there for you.

warning: MDNI +18 make outs, groping, soft p in v sex, clitoral stimulation. Nice and simple.

word count: 2K

Your brows furrow, shaking your head, even as you lay in a deep sleep. Squirming around in your bed a whimper escapes you as visions— no memories, whirl through your mind in a torturous loop. Pools of blood come in waves, crashing against the walls and flooding the vision of your dream. Endless faces pass the view of your eye, being presented with them all before they fall off to the side and another takes its place.

Kill after kill you’re reminded of every single one. Your mind not allowing you to forget about a second of the pain you inflicted on others. An unending stream of the damage you caused and the torture you brought upon others. All of it now coming back to you.

By the time you’ve gone through them all, you’re whimpering, tears streaming down your cheeks even though you remain asleep. Just when you think it’s over, when all is done, when you’ll finally be able to gain some release… one more head slowly floats through the river of blood.

The head slowly comes to a stop and the face that greets you is none other than Astarion’s.

You scream and a second later Astarion is shaking you awake. Your eyes shoot open and scatter around as you try and take in your surroundings, your breath is heavy with panic, and you can’t stop squirming as you feel your skin crawl. The idea of Astarion being gone, and worse by your hand, haunts your every waking thought.

When Astarion gently cups your jaw, bringing your gaze to his, you cry out at the sight of him, more tears streaming down your cheek. Astarion shakes his head, quietly shushing you in hopes to calm you down. Your tears seem unable to stop as your eyes move over his every beautiful feature. Your hands reach up, taking his face in your hold. Thumbs rubbing over smooth cheeks. You feel him. He is here. He is unharmed.

Your eyes catch onto your hands and you know that he is safe. He is safe in your embrace. You aren’t like that anymore. You don’t do those things anymore. Neither of you do. Ever since everything ended and you’ve both settled into your new lives in Baldur’s Gate. You would never hurt him, not then nor now. While there were some close calls you have full control. You’re positive.

Nothing will ever harm him. Not you or anyone. You two will spend your days protecting each other from whatever threat may come your way. You’re a team. You continue rotating through those thoughts, filling your mind with them as you inhale and exhale deeply, meeting Astarion’s worried gaze once more. His free arm moves around your waist and he brings you impossibly closer. The feeling of his body against yours furthers your comfort.

With time you eventually calm down, your breath slowing down and the panic dissipating. When fully relaxed against his body, Astarion’s eyes furrow in a silent question. You blink back, not wanting to even think about it right now. Not wanting to think about anything. So you lightly shake your head at him and his features drop just as quickly as his question, understanding you immediately.

Instead he uses his hold in your jaw to gently guide your lips to his, continuing to provide you with closeness and comfort. You inhale sharply through your nose as your lips collide. A small moan escapes you as you lean into his touch, lips simply connecting for a moment. But you both easily fall into a gentle rhythm as your lips caress each other lovingly.

Astarion’s hand slides into your hair and he uses it to pull you in closer, groaning as his mouth devours yours. Both of you quickly become swept up in the easy dance of your mouth’s movements. You whimper, everything Astarion being the only thing you can focus on. The only thing you can think about.

When he slowly brings you back down on the bed, hand on the back of your head for extra cushion, you moan again, flicking your tongue along the seam of his lips. Astarion rolls on top of you, legs cradling your hips as he opens his mouth to you. You both grin as you take turns teasing each other with your tongues. His actions meant to distract and comfort and you weren’t ashamed to say they were working.

Astarion slowly works to undress you both, taking his time, savoring the taste of your tongue on his. Only separating when you have to and then his lips are crashing back down on yours. You moan, softly pulling him down once he’s finished, your body shuddering to feel his cold skin brush along the heat of yours. The contrast sending sparks up your spine.

Your body arches into his as you feel his hand slowly making its way down your form. The sensation of his mouth and hands continuing to drive all worrying thoughts out of your head. Astarion takes his time with you, wanting to feel every groove and curve that makes up your body. His hand slips between you both once he reaches your hips.

A hiss escapes him and you feel his breath ghost across your face. Your brows furrow and you whimper, hips jolting up, knowing his next movements precisely. A moment later you feel the crown of his cock parting your folds. Your eyes snap open only to meet Astarion already looking down at you. A soft expression on his face as he gages your reactions, always making sure you’re ok. You do the same, reaching a hand to touch his cheek. You bring his forehead to rest against yours, taking a moment to connect with him emotionally.

You gasp as he teases the hole of your sex and your heart skips a beat at the slight quirk of his mouth. Which only grows wider once he hears the way your pulse instinctively reacts to him. Your moans rip through the silence as Astarion pushes inside of you with ease. Your eyelids drop as you let out a whine, the feeling of him entering you has your body filling with warmth.

Astarion easily moves straight into a languid pace, his length gliding through your wet heat as he works you open, stuffing you full of him. Your hands slide into his hair, foreheads remaining connected as he thrusts inside you. Both of you maintaining eye contact. The intensity of emotion in his gaze takes your breath away. He wants to be here for you. To look after you. And though you may not be ready to talk, he is right here to comfort you.

Your nose nuzzles against his in a silence appreciation, your chest blooming with even more love and devotion for this man. Astarion grunts, a low rumble in his chest at your sign of affection, before picking up his pace only slightly. You sigh at the feeling of his cock massaging your walls, head falling back slightly as hips roll into yours. Soon your body falls into rhythm with his, pushing back against every pump into your core.

A soft cry leaves you as he hits your G-spot. Arms tightening around him, you’re desperate to feel him close. Astarion’s hands squeeze at your waist while his cock leisurely pumps its way inside you. He nips at your jaw gently, wanting your attention back on him. Your breath stutters as your hips meet once again in a quiet smack. Tilting your head up you meet his gaze and his lips are immediately connecting with yours, causing you to groan.

Heat swirls at the bottom of your belly as you feel your orgasm begin to grow. Your hands softly play with Astarion’s curls as you kiss. Your lips moving in tandem with the steady rhythm of his pulsing length. The feeling sends your heart racing and your skin tingling. An easy passion falls over you both like a thick cloud, blocking away the rest of the world and all that remains of you and Astarion.

You whimper against his lips, mind growing hazy as you’re lulled by his soft lips and the occasional nip of his fangs. Your nerves are on fire, your entire body prickling over as you savor each time he fills you. With the building pressure within you, you know you’re getting closer and closer to your climax. Astarion groans, feeling the way your muscles tense underneath him, feeling how your body radiates heat those moves through him and drives him with a need he’s only ever truly felt with you.

His hands caress your thighs, soothing out the slight twitching occurring as you find yourself just on the edge. Then a hand is moving to the apex of your thighs, his diligent fingers quickly finding your clit. Your jaw drops slightly and he uses this to his advantage, tongue slipping into your mouth to brush along yours. Your body jolts into his touch and you melt against the slow circles applied to your bundle of nerves.

It only takes a few more soothing strokes before your walls are fluttering around his cock and you’re falling off the edge, your release coating his cock. You moan loudly and Astarion swallows it all down, mouth latching down on your tongue and sucking lightly. Your body shudders in response, making the slight shaking of your body all the more worse as your orgasm moves through you in gripping shockwaves.

You clench down on Astarion, not even aware of your actions as your release consumes you. Astarion grunts, his stomach clenching and with a few stuttering thrusts, he sinks down inside you before spilling himself. Your eyes roll back into your head and you gently grind against him, milking him for every last drop.

Both of you rock into each other slowly, helping each other ride out your highs. Your kisses grow lazy, mouths smacking together, unable to stay away for longer than a few moments. Your eyes flutter as you desperately try and stay awake. Astarion watches you, his own eyes half-lidded, a storm of powerful emotions brewing in the depths of his red gaze. Yet you don’t back away from it, instead lulled into its embrace.

Astarion rolls you both onto your sides once you’ve both calmed down. He keeps you connected as he draws you tight against his chest. You breathe deeply, your body relaxed, contentment now coursing through you as you lay in Astarion’s arms. Both of you protected. Both of you safe. You slowly begin to fall asleep, grateful for your love and the way he flawlessly has come to understand you.

A moment later you feel a hand rest on the back of your head and your body jolts a bit, the touch waking you up more. Astarion shushes you gently, leaning in to press calming kisses across your brow. You hum and snuggle back in closer to him, accepting every kind of comfort he’s been giving you since your dream rousted you two up. It was only when he started to kiss your forehead did you realize you still remain partially tense. But with his lips on your skin your body completely melts into his and you fall into a dreamless sleep without issue.

Astarion stays by your side, not wanting to get up or move away from you. Watching over you as you rest and hoping the night passes by without anything else waking you. He knows you will talk to him once the morning comes. Share your concerns and let him be there for you in that way as well. He will always be there for you so long as you wish him and doesn’t mind having to prove so. Looking down at you and thinking this all through, he can’t help but lean in and nuzzle into your hair. He closes his eyes, for even if he won’t really sleep, he’ll bask in the act if it means lying with you.

[alpydk]

Eclipse - (Part 13) - "Dream"

My second favourite chapter. Totally in love with altering the in game scenes ever so slightly. I initially wanted them to pass through Barovia but Gale v Strahd is not the fic this week.

Ao3 Link

Finding the Annals of Karsus had proven a little more difficult than the party had anticipated, but as they each laid down for the night at the Elfsong Tavern, they knew it had been the right thing to do. Gale sat alone with the book flicking through the pages mindlessly. He’d been quick to devour the information in front of his eyes, taking in what the book was telling him about the crown. With it, he could not only save them all from the Absolute; he could also rid himself of the orb and claim back his magic as it once was. He could become a god… This would mean claiming back his life and not needing forgiveness from Mystra at all. With this newfound freedom, he could live his life as he wished and support individuals who had experienced similar hardships. He could be a god with morals and humanity.

To new horizons. Gale wasn’t sure at what point he had fallen asleep, only realising what had happened as he opened his eyes to feel that the wooden surface of the boat which he sat on was unstable. He glanced around, seeing the astral seas around him, the woven skies that stretched for all eternity, the young girl that sat opposite him with the brown eyes that reflected the surrounding stars. He recognised her and yet didn’t. She had a curiosity in her look that matched his own, a nervous energy that came from channelling the weave, an excitable mind at the planes that extended out around them.

“Who-“ he tried to speak, only to be interrupted as she raised her index finger to her lips. He took the signal to be quiet, watching as she waved her other hand out over the edge of the boat.

The purple skies flickered before them, becoming light, going on to reveal the shores of the Chionthar in the distance. Just as he found his bearings, they vanished again, allowing him to see the docks of Waterdeep under the light of the setting sun. His breath hitched as it appeared, his longing to be home catching him off-guard at its sudden unveiling. Waterdeep’s docks soon became Netherwinter’s river, became the Ice Lakes of Luskan; all overlapping, all similar and yet different. He felt time and space bend around him, his memories conflicting with each place that he knew he had been and lived in through one life or another. The only constant factor staying the same was that of the young girl who appeared so innocent before him. The last sight he saw was from the docks of Baldur’s Gate itself and a glistening shine coming from beneath the murky waves.

“I love you. I miss you.”

As he heard the words as they had been spoken to him so many times before, he felt the sudden urge to hug the child, to bring her close to him and protect her, to care for her. He reached forward only for the world around him to waiver; the skies becoming shadowed, and the waters black. The air crackled with magic and the young girl looked around in panic, a confusion on her face as if she had just woken from a trance. Gale watched as the waves grew fierce around them, as the skies lit up with flashes of lightning, as the child vanished before his very eyes.

---

You’d returned to Nortale’s Hostel trying to get your head in gear before the visit to the temple in the morning. Despite knowing that talking to a statue would be pointless, it had been so long since you had visited that you hoped maybe Mystra would listen, what with how desperate you now were. Placing your head on your pillow, you wished Gale could hear your thoughts of how you longed to be with him. This journey should have ended with your meeting with one another; instead, you had been met with emptiness and further heartbreak. Your mind drifted over the various sending spells, over the images you had seen in the crystal ball of battles and victories, of his times of loneliness but also friendships. He couldn’t just have died. They wouldn’t have let that happen so easily.

Lúthien stirred near you and let out a soft moan. Dragging her here had all been for nought and soon you’d need to either tell her the truth or take her to some random family member hoping you could bring someone else into the lies you had told her. What would certainly happen though would be the long slow trek back to Waterdeep, empty-handed despite all your efforts.

She let out a quiet whimper, and you placed a hand on her shoulder, comforting her just as Gale had used to with you. On one torturous day in the distant past, he had taken you sailing out on the Sea of Swords, his sea legs prevailing much better than your own. He’d claimed it was a new adventure as you’d felt the rickety boat sway in the waves and his hand on your shoulder had provided the comfort needed to find your balance just before the winds died down, allowing you both to sail pleasantly down the coast. Now all you had left of those days were memories and minor acts of comfort you could only pass on.

---

Emaciated fingers tapped nervously on the edge of the rocky throne the figure sat on. “Oh, he found the book. What a capable young fellow his is.” His gaunt face wore a smile as he watched the wizard read and he tittered to himself as each page was turned. “Oh, but we need no more gods.” His jagged teeth gritted together, and his tone grew excitable. “She won’t let you take the crown, but you could, you know? You could take it from right under her eyes and use it.”

He stood and dramatically waved his arm in front of him, gesturing to the imaginary audience that sat on the edge of their seats at his every word. “It will be so much fun to see the tantrum she will have. Little lady of magic trying to have it all, but that’s not how it works now, is it, love?” He hopped down the steps playfully, a dance in his step. “How about we give him a little taste of power and see if he likes it? Everyone needs a little taste.” His gaze moved from the audience to nothingness, to the sleeping child, and he saw how she dreamt of playing in rose gardens.

“Roses are red, and sometimes white. Don’t worry dearie, I don’t bite.."

---

Lúthien felt the loss of the rose petals in her hand as they withered into ash and blew away with the chill of an icy breeze that passed over her shoulders. Her mind went blank, and she felt her body become weightless, as if descending into a bottomless ocean, and she let herself sink lower and lower beneath the glooming waves.

As she succumbed to the currents pulling her down, she could see the shimmering of purple light above the waters, the shadow of a small boat passing overhead, and she tried to reach out for it, to shout through the water that filled her lungs as she fell further into the darkness. Slowly, her fear turned to a gentle peace, her eyes closing as the twinkling of stars drifted further from her view. There was no pain or confusion as she lost herself in the dreamless sleep and floated away with the flow of the streams.

Her body jolted suddenly as she found herself on the wooden boat facing the bearded man. The waves licked up around them and the sky had grown grey with hostile clouds. Lightning could be seen in the distance, and the rumble of thunder grew louder in her ears with each passing second. Her heart pounded, and she looked around for any form of escape, her breath catching in her throat and a tightness building that she couldn’t control. She wanted to scream but the noise would not come, only the feeling of a palm held around her neck, and she gazed helplessly at the face staring confused at her, wishing that he would stop whatever was happening.

His arm reached out to her tentatively to offer comfort, but before she could grab onto it, she heard her mother’s voice, felt the touch of a hand on her shoulder and the next thing she knew she was back under the woollen blankets of the hostel bed, safe once again.

---

Mystra had refused herself the opportunity to watch over Gale since he had entered the vault. Her reaction to the missed opportunity between him and the child in the store had been a little more extreme than she had wished, and she’d felt the eyes of Ao fall on her, causing her to step back in line once again. Now she listened to the prayers of villagers as they asked the gods for forgiveness, as the lava burst forth and the earth cracked beneath them. She sent them rain, benevolent as she was, and as the fires dwindled, she smiled with a sense of satisfaction at the good deed she had done for the mortals that would soon come to worship her. 

The Weave twisted around her fingers as the spell ended and she listened to the whispers of gratefulness that came from below. “Who-“ The voice caught her off-guard amongst the din, but she recognised it as her former chosen, speaking from an area he was forbidden from ever returning. Her eyes narrowed in on him as he floated across the astral seas with his daughter, as they blinked in and out of existence with little regard for the disruption they could cause. Her temper flared directly upon them as she brought upon the storms, the lightning bolts of her own creation tearing through the skies towards them, the hurricane winds she would use to destroy them if needed. HOW DARE THEY PLACE THEMSELVES AS GODS WITHIN MY REALM!?

The Weave crackled uncontrollably at her fingertips, sparks darting out, ready to claim the Karsite weave that sat before her. What would the lives of a few tens of thousands of mortals be worth? Would Ao care if all of Baldur’s Gate were to be obliterated due to one rogue dream? The girl vanished from the vision and with it Mystra clenched her fist, holding herself back. Their presence may have been Gale’s doing, but the abilities he displayed were not ones he had even been capable of before. Someone was toying with her, and she needed to find out who.

---

The elderly wizard sat in a quiet corner of the Elfsong tavern, pondering over the words he would say to Gale with the coming dawn. His directions were simply to send Gale to Mystra at the temple, where she could issue her demands, and yet none of this sat well with him as he sipped at the red wine and picked at the cheese. She wanted not only the crown, but Gale and the child as well and had explained very little of why. He’d questioned her actions repeatedly; that the crown he could accept, but why Gale? Why the girl? She had no use for them with the multitude of other potentials out in the world. She had shunned him, questioning his loyalty, and for the first time in so many years, he had heard venom in her voice instead of the apathetic disdain she had previously embraced. He knew she wouldn’t want to grant any power to the boy, but she would say otherwise if it meant he stood by her side yet again. Over the centuries, she had become lost and jaded, and Elminster had watched as it had happened, standing back as she discarded those that were no longer useful to her.

He looked over at the bartender, that whispered to a patron, most likely offering advice impartially in a way that few could. Maybe words spoken from the heart would be more for Gale’s benefit, rather than the distant requests he had made of him last time. Maybe instead he could help Gale find Tav, bringing them both back together after so long, or maybe, in some ridiculous, Volo-esque manner, love could conquer all.

Even the waves of fate can break upon the shores of will. He would be a hypocrite to not believe these words himself, and so, as the sun rose, shining through the dusty windows of the tavern, Elminster placed his pointed scarlet hat atop his head and teleported himself to the room where he too would defy his goddess.

[song-writer-melo-wrath]

~durge aus~

Behemoth: the one who was already a durge, so let's reverse it

gold-seeking flirtatious adventurer who is revealed to actually prefer being quiet and truthful

outlander background???

Takes one look at Karlach and immediately starts an arc from "I have to act confident in what I'm doing since she's new to this" to "[internal sobbing] what if we,,,kissed,,,and hellldd,hahandsds,,,"

Athmoth:

all the previous trauma still exists. it's just now combined with durge trauma.

It's not exactly gonna be fic material (most likely [except for that one time]) so I'll go into it here ig: the thing I considered for them was that the amnesia removes the durge memories...but not what happened before durge things

a certain archfey avatar is very. very worried.

they have huge Orpheus from Hades energy

Quietly clings to people sometimes when it gets to be Too Much

Sir that is their emotional support vampire

Harper:

WHY.

My man is plagued with murderous urges and fucking sobbing the entire time

[SAD ACCORDION NOISES]

Oh god what do you think happened to the rats. Oh no. The rats.

The world is empty and meaningless place- omg Wyll hi!!!

yeah I imagine pre-amnesia this guy just kinda dissociated from every murder to remain cheerful

post amnesia he doesn't exactly know how to do that anymore

Lemming:

WHY. X2

Plagued with murderous urges and fucking sobbing the entire time, the sequel

Lemming, clinging to Lae'zel like a lifeline "is this normal for gith BECAUSE I DON'T REMEMBER WHAT BEING A GITH IS LIKE-"

SELUNE. SEND HELP. SEND ALL THE HELP.

their romance with Shadowheart now has the tragedy of "whether you hate me for things out of my control or love me at least you're looking at me. please look at me so I can know who I am."

pre-amnesia murder was probably somewhat scientific for them. they're efficient, so they don't think about it too much.

Mythos:

[MANIACAL LAUGHTER]

Oh they will not hesitate, bitch

"you feel an urge to murder" "alright murder it is" "wait wh-"

[A MAN HAS FALLEN INTO THE RIVER IN BALDUR'S GATE]

they don't remember they had the title of nightmare bard but once they learn they're probably just like "yeah sounds about right"

karmyth remains tragic as hell but less because mythos is haunted by their actions and more because WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU'RE DOOMED BY THE NARRATIVE. I WOULD KILL ANYONE WHO TRIED TO TOUCH YOU.

gortash: [misses them] mythos, local aro: [lol]

[shaking them] please get therapy we are all begging you PLEASE GET THERAPY-

raph can you like keep them behind bars. it's for the greater good trust me.

Noon (already a durge, haven't developed them much so this'll be interesting):

Noon's path in a non-durge au would probably depend on who gets to them first. Big peer pressure person.

Once it gets to the point where they have contradicting sides to this it'll get…complicated.

ace attorney style debate would need to happen

hey Noon, maybe you'll actually get to develop a personality (not just out of character. in character they're very passive until directed, down to emotions and wants)

[looks at their relationship with Minthara] ... oh, this'll be interesting.

yeah, Noon remains uh. not the best person.

the rest of the gang were already non-dnd OCs that I just made bg3 tavs, so they probably wouldn't fit this v well, but ye

[endawn]

still thinking about a scenario where the tadcrew denies pax’s request to join them the first two opportunities, they’ll still have a third chance at moonrise depending on how they go about it. if they find him in bath’s hidden room. they’d find him vivisected and quartered on the operating table with a sustained sunlight spell above him to halt his regeneration. notes in the room describing his absolute rampage and slaughter through the compound before being overwhelmed by ketheric & the regrouped true souls still alive. probably attempting to tap into his immortality so they don’t have to solely rely on the nightsong. the crew can disable to spell and drip some of their blood into his mouth to kickstart his healing factor. then step waaaaaay back.

[endawn]

 eyes were not on her , he could hear her. the trembling , the armor rattling and cloth ruffling against itself. her breath, her heartbeat. quick and terrified. it was not unknown to him as ears pricked and listened when gaze seemed to be elsewhere. senses were heightened in his frenzy. the terrible, sublime bloodlust still clinging and gripping atrophied heart. mind lingered to wondering what she tasted like, how it'd feel to indulge in her precious, precious life essence. there was not enough . the curse of the shadowlands nearly claimed it from him as fast as he could consume it. more , more — this was not enough; a trifling. i need more. i need. i need.

 her voice in response was enough to halt those thoughts. then, ushered away in mute horror. no ! he would not harm her , her blood would stay untouched. stay in her veins. he would….endure. endure… hope for another absolutist to wander from the towers. in search of something - he did not care the reason - only to fall into some horrid maw. into gnashing teeth holding a hunger most wretched. they’d be none the wiser. they, too, fear the shadows. knew what lurked. crouched over the body of their victim like a beast, using claws to pick up and lap errant blood trickling from mangled flesh when the lull of conversation grew. swinging on a pendulum between man and monster. it was wise not to run. not to bury a dagger in him. it would not have ended well.

 more words. drawing awareness again , pulling mind from the grips of hunger. pax straightened this time, shifting a stooping form to one resting on knees. the tips of blackened claws pushed his opponent’s head away lest he wished it to haunt him in dreams. never could he stand to look upon the faces of those he had eaten. it was enough to feel their terror which lingered in sanguine ichor. seeing it in their eyes…guilt bore a heavy weight. own head swiveled to find his companion, now. candlelike eyes glowing with a waning intensity, voice slowly softening as it lost a grating edge,

  ❝ f-forgive. i had not intended… i wish you had not seen it. this place… it is festering within me and i could not temper myself in the moment. ❞

"You’re trembling.“ || @endawn

mismatched eyes bear a fierce, defensive glint as she tries to harden her expression to hide her body's response to fear. fear. fear! oh this was awful, horrible, wretched. she couldn't stand being seen like this, trembling like a frightened child. she finally forces a deep breath out, running a hand through her long hair. usually, the adrenaline of battle was a high she was quick to chase. electric magic mixing with the scent of gore was usually enough to make her feel wonderfully, terribly alive & it was nothing short of addictive. but this was different. there was a darkness in pax, one she didn't understand. one that she might want to, were she able to force her brain to work properly.

" no i'm not, " it's a poorly told lie. ( she can't steady her hands. ) she hopes that she looks stronger than she feels. she wishes she would just suffocate & be done with it.

it would be easier to put a knife in pax's back, go home & carry on with her life. but there was no 'carrying on' when death waited around every corner. when it dripped from his mouth & hands & body. he was stronger than her & the bits of what used to be his opponent at his feet prove that. he could just as easily tear her to shreds, or any of their newfound allies. there was glory in his gore, success in his bloodshed & yet every one of her instincts tells her to run. to get as far away from this creature as she can & pray that he doesn't follow. unfortunately, she is more stubborn than that.

" what you did just there, " she waves at what used to be his opponent. she doesn't look at them. her mouth feels too dry, " i've seen many things in my life... but nothing like that. "

[mid0khan]

Music Poll

Rules: Shuffle your Spotify On Repeat playlist, and put the first 10 songs in a poll. Have your followers choose which song is their favorite.

I’ve been tagged by @samsalami66 thank you darling ^^

Sadly I don’t have Spotify and there’s no equivalent to the « on repeat » playlist on the free Deezer app, so I’ll just make an estimation of my 10 most listened to songs of the moment ><‘ (most of which will be from my mood playlist for Hopes and Expectations btw)

And ngl I don’t have the energy to look up who has already been tagged and who hasn’t, so I’m gonna take the easy path and say: you want to play and haven’t been tagged ? Well I’m tagging you !

[altrxisme]

v: bg3 ; down by the river

THE RED WOLF Aasimar / Barbarian | Fighter / Outlander

"A few decades ago, my father disappeared after he redeemed himself from breaking his oath. I promised him that I would look after our family, that I would be their stalwart protector— I was only a child.

Once our family settled somewhere safe, I left at their insistence that I live my life as I please. I tried.

Everything changed when a trusted source of mine has heard of sightings of man who resembled father, roaming the Sword Coast with the very same group that caused him to break his oath.

I've spent the past three years trying to track him down and was on the verge of a breakthrough— until the mind flayers appeared over the city.

I— The Red Wolf— demand justice."

Strikingly beautiful as she is deadly, Johanne Fröst comes off as cold as her family name in first meeting. The aasimar woman could easily be mistaken as a paladin by the way she conducts herself: stoic, of few words unless necessary, and chivalrous.

It isn't until they see the barbarian bare her teeth in a fight that they realize her reserved demeanor held off the savageness carried within. Other mercenaries who have worked with her in the past have laid witness to the howling rage that rumbles like thunder, tearing apart marks without a bat of an eye.

There are very few with a keener eye that notice that there is something more beneath the restraint and violence she enacts. Something far somber and tragic.

THE SILVERTONGUED HALF-ELF Half-Wood Elf / Ranger | Rogue | Bard / Guild Artisan

"—Hail, friend. The name's Jackson Odali.

I've work in Baldur's Gate that I wanted ta leave behind for a while now. The sort of work that can put ya in a lot of trouble with all sorts of people in high and low places.

—Unless you've got a silver-tongue and an easy smile ta get ya out, of course. Doesn't hurt ta know the right people for the right problems either.

I'm a sharp shot with a bow, but the precision of well-placed words is my preferred choice of a fight. Call me a coward— No offense taken, but it's what has gotten me this far in life. No shame in runnin' if ya need ta.

I do wonder... how long can one continue to walk the line between livin' and runnin'."

A passing look will make him to be a face in the crowd. Double back, there stands a charming young man who will sweep you off your feet. Stay a moment longer, you will have gained a lifelong friend.

Jackson Odali is a name many people of Baldur's Gate are familiar with. A roguish half-wood elf ranger whose sincerity both disarms and unsettles, depending on one's take on unconditional kindness. His presence is welcomed by both the downtrodden and the elites of the city; a middle man, if you will.

Behind the smile, however, lurks a part of him he sparingly lets roam in the light. A darkness meant for the unruly who have made their bed and must lie in it.

Introductions Extended Info Headcanons ( Johanne / Jackson ) Thread Ideas

[mikahorror]

Original song by Borislav Slavov for the RPG Baldur's Gate 3. Video: www.youtube.com/watch?v=lFwy93rtnm0

Images from Unsplash and edited on Befunky.com

[endawn]

 mind lost in thought , unfocused eyes trying to filter out the oppressive sunlight. a flick of movement caught his attention and body straightened up out of its state of ease. her voice reached his ears first before the world around him took shape once more ( albeit a slight blur remaining ). one word stuck out among her enthusiastic declamation: hag. face contorted as a certain individual entered the forefront of his mind at the mere mention of such creatures: auntie ethel. it seemed a vain hope to be rid of her or any of her ilk so easily,

  ❝ i had not, unfortunately. ❞ a tinge of remorse laced his response as pax reached out to take the parchment but did not read the words on it. a myriad of reasons he missed the signs, but the only one he wished to admit was due to his lack of straying since they entered the city. too many sights, smells and sounds. to think more trouble was brewing outside of the cultists set unease in his chest. did not know such a thing was possible, came and went a fleeting musing. at the mention of meeting one of the members, however, his mind went to the widower. mayrina ? yes, she was headed to the city when they left her. he hoped she made it soundly. ❝ not to alter the course of our conversation, but the one placing the posters -- was she pregnant ? ❞

 regardless of the answer, he was more than willing to rid this city of a hag's influence. if ethel was anything to go by, no good could come from their continued presence. posturing, now, as he raised his gaze from the paper and his expression took on one of conviction. ❝ i ask because at the beginning of our journey, we saved a widower from a hag who she had gone to in grief. in a regrettably misguided attempt to resurrect her husband. she spoke of heading to the city, but we never discovered if she made it and we thought the hag dead, but trickery seems to be their domain. if there is the possibility of this being the very same hag, i would gladly assist you in finishing what was started. ❞

 though, he would gladly assist regardless.

@endawn // starter call

❝HAVE YOU SEEN THIS, GOOD knight?❞ She held a flyer in her hand, half-torn and crumpled in the center but still legible. She might have been overly zealous in its retrieval, but that was her way. Certainly, it was warranted in this situation regardless. She held the flyer out to Pax that he might reach the same conclusion. It advertised in commanding print an "anti-hag support group" convening within the city.

❝They have been posted in every corner of the lower city, from the Basilisk Gate to the docks.❞ She paced as she spoke, clearly itching to charge off on a new quest. ❝I had the opportunity to speak with one of this group’s members as she affixed that very flyer upon the wall. Caution stayed her tongue, for too many prying eyes stood near, but it was implied these good people’s trouble with hags is not truly past.❞

She ceased her pacing with commanding finality and locked her eyes to his. ❝If that is so, then we must aid them. A city in chaos, overflowing with the desperate and destitute, is too fertile a hunting ground for such a creature. I will lend my strength to end this evil. Will you join your blade to mine?❞

[endawn]

okay but( re : ascension ). pax is on edge !! molag possesses him when running into ralph outside of the thorm mausoleum. much, much easier than what was normal. usually pax has more of a warning and can resist and fight. in that moment, he was walking along with the tadcrew, blinked, and was getting dragged down into a consuming, black sea within his own mind. he doesn’t know he cried out, tried reaching out to whoever was closest to him. mol..ag forced him into his vampire lord form !! when he comes back, he’s face down in the dirt with his armor in pieces. the panic on the tadcrew’s faces, ralph is even startled ( of course the intent was to intimidate the devil ). it makes him paranoid, makes him think mol..ag’s strength over him is growing. or he’s getting weaker. he doesn’t quite realize BEING in the shadow cursed lands is the reason. soaking up all that necrotic energy + being bloodstarved for most of it. molzzag hadn’t done it in a long time at that point. it makes him nervous, it scares him. he’s terrified.

[endawn]

 tiny claws dug into dirt , pulling small body across the ground. small relative to his true form, at least. large compared to an average bat; finding himself the size of scratch. an imperfect imitation borne of disuse. starting as an innocuous prodding to explore what his vampiric powers entailed. a surprise and excitement in learning of his shapeshifting. begging and pleading which the vampire thought was much unbecoming but relented in the harmlessness of the request. therein lied his folly. the arduous transformation should have foreshadowed the difficulty laden its reversal, but it was realized much too late.

 — much to the amusement of the one who convinced him. pigeon’s laughter echoing in the camp as pax sulked away in his embarrassment. he was exhausted , the sun was too bright. it hurt. annoyance began to color his general solemn demeanor. chirps and squeaks in place of what would have been muttered words. pausing, however, when paws grasped the edges of shoes. without much thought, the chiropteran knight grasped at the leg attached to said shoe and clung to it; hiding himself in their cast shadow. a gentle prodding within their mind, now, telepathic in nature but different from the illithid powers given to them by the tadpole. snout twitching as beady eyes leveled a gaze upwards,

  « forgive me… i am out of sorts. »

@storyhaunt gets a little batty pax

[endawn]

❛   night terrors .   hold  my  muse  after  they  wake  up  from  a  nightmare .

 heavy did the shadow curse weigh in his chest , on his mind. in him. dread. one could feel it as soon as they crossed the threshold. undeath intricately tied to the whirling dark energies. seeping through skin , desiring to return to something older. a festering blight within his own soul reaching out to meet it. the necrotic nature holding a familiarity he did well to shut his eyes to. yet , it could not be denied forever. it scratched like barbs , seethed and clawed within him. whispering in his ears and haunting the edges of his vision like a shadowy monolith. sleep , yes , i need sleep. a desperate grab at any solution for this decline ( the answer was already known ). when was the last time he slept ? pax could not remember, which , in his state , seemed to all but prove the need. sleep did not prove to be the reprieve the vampire hoped.

 nightmares were to be expected , the restless curse tormenting its bearer. only , these tainted lands seemed to exasperate them. a taint looming over the sleeping man , reaching downwards from beyond a veil. piercing into his mind with an icy talon as he slept. digging into memories best left buried; manipulating them. breaking down the barriers , chipping at will. slumbers were taken in deathlike stillness. nary a sound uttered or so much as a twitch of finger. this was not like so many times before. pained howls of an animal in its death throes cut the silence within the camp. no, but it was not animal. it was their knight. body thrashed as it reacted to the horror replaying in mind, trying to carry itself away from the cold stone they laid it upon. so many hands reaching to hold him in place , to choke him with more ichor of their dark lord. so many hands, so many hands. sneering faces , laughing smiles as they offered a soul their master gladly consumed. mine , my soul ! he cannot have me , i will not allow this. i must. i must --

 form seized , muscles spasmed as if the vile ritual was occurring all over. as if the ice once more spread through veins , turning into a cold flame coursing through flesh; defiling it. claiming every fibre of being and warping it. agonizingly ripping it asunder , melting it before reforming it in His image. screams echoed in the camp again ( did they ever stop ? ). blackened claws replaced fingernails and dug into the palm of his own hand as his fists clenched. long dead heart restarting a beating course only to be snuffed out again. to be split by the blade of a dragon-hilted dagger. hearing father akatosh weep for his lost champion. pax dropped from the delirium and into the warmth of arms cradling his upper body; sinking into @mindhallow. craving it. finding comfort. a muffled sob caught in throat. hollow eyes opened , candlelike glowing from blown pupils shuddered as if threatened to be extinguished by the slightest of gusts. dark veins marred sockets surrounding them and webbed throughout entire face. cheeks were gaunt , sharpened teeth peaking passed lips. seemingly now more corpse than man. but, corpses did not weep nor whimper. or lament.

  ❝ nobody came. nobody came. nobody saved me. ❞

[endawn]

vermin . came a scathing thought as blood was wiped from mouth with gloved hand. only, then, to be replaced by a sorrow and disgust. how many more are there that follow ? how many more must suffer until the stain of the absolute is gone from the land ? they could only be in so many places at once. dealing with the cultists who made themselves known in Her name; guide them to slaughter. those who balked at the sight of being shepherded towards the wizard waiting them ( did they realize their doom awaited them ? ) seemingly forgot the gnashing teeth biting at their heels. the awaiting maw ready to sink fangs into exposed throats. they, too, did not pass. their blood now serving more purpose than it had done in life. the knight hoped to make use of those felled by el's hand as well, but the grimace which crossed features showed he had lost his appetite. blood once contained within charred bodies the wizard now strode through had been vaporized. no matter , he thought, i consumed enough to last a few days.

so, instead of scavenging the bodies for something he could tell was no longer there, pax watched the wizard with a muted interest. unbothered as they were by the corpses. one must grow accustom in their line of work. long lost were the days where death was not a common occurrence. how long has it been ? it stirred something and the vampire did not respond to her praise as it struck an old memory nearly buried by the curse. a sentimental longing for soft mornings holding the reins of a favored horse and leading them out of stables and into dewed meadows. what was their name ? shake of the head , memory slipped. breath filled dead lungs with effort and a sigh passed lips as he obliged the whims. truly unbothered was he at the request but the day’s events were weighing heavy. glad for the absolute to be defeated, but exhausted at the filth remaining.

❝ i do not know about chivalric, but i would gladly escort you back to the city. if you do not mind the blood staining. besides, i could do for some shelter from this light. ❞ lips pursed for a moment as gaze was sent over the state of armor and bloodied gloves. quite a sight . a battle wearied ( vampiric ) knight and a seemingly feeble elder who looked like they had no business being near the outskirts of the city. no matter. positioning his body towards the city , arm gapped enough for her to slip an arm through if she wished. unsure was he of the proper decorum. time spent by oneself did little to preserve the etiquette excepted. after all, he had been a farmer’s son before fate decided his importance. ❝ it is … the least i could do after you showed your praise. though, i once helped raise horses rather than shepherding sheep. ❞

( after the battle // accepting ) PAX [ @endawn ] WROTE: ❝They were never going to get past you.❞

EL GRACED PAX WITH A crooked grin. Around them were strewn the charred bodies of Absolutists who would rest forever in dreams of martyrdom. These were the few truly faithful who had required no parasite to make them believe — and thus did not take kindly to losing the object of their veneration. Alas such faith was wasted on a false goddess. The smoke rising from their corpses would be the last offering she would ever receive.

Yet, El strode among them as if through a fair garden, the odor of their death no more troubling than the perfume of flowers. (So it appeared, at any rate. She had merely become accustomed to ignoring it.) A pipe floated down into her hand, and she drew from it as she crossed the remaining way between them. The green sparks popping from its bowl were like fireflies in the failing light.

❝Ye did a fine job herding them thyself, lad. I'd fair believe thy hands held a shepherd's crook before they held a blade.❞ As was the case with too many adventurers — and cultists, by the looks of some of the dead. She shook her head. Not for the first time, she thought that, if the crooks far outnumbered the blades, the world would be a fairer place.

And after that thought, the dead were still dead. No more could be done for them now save by a priest's prayer. ❝Tis time we headed back. Show thy chivalric graces, lad, and walk an old woman back to the city.❞ Suddenly she seemed no more than a dear old granddam drawing a homespun cloak about her shoulders with bony hands.

[endawn]

taking pax for the final fight against the big baddie brain prevents the crew from getting wet. or, well, mostly. since he’s in his vampire lord form, he’d have access to his wings and would grab the tadcrew ( one for each arm and the third gets their shoulders clamped down on by his feet ) to prevent them from having to ride the brain down. since it seems like this happens at the cusp of dawn, i think his wings would start to burn up but he’d be able to hold out until they landed on the docks. depending on the sizes of who’s in the party, it might be a faster decent than he’d like and he would aim for the water, then ( sorry ).