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justinewt · 21 days ago

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Blood Stained Memory Loss - BALDUR'S GATE 3 FANFICTION Chapter One

[BALDUR'S GATE III FANFIC-MASTERLIST]

Next Chapter (SOON)

Summary: A drow, abducted and infected by mind flayers, fought her way out of the nautiloid ship she was stuck on. She had forgotten who she was and her past, but remembered two names, though she was unsure which was actually hers... She quickly understood she had to get rid of this parasite in her head, and figured having travel companions wouldn't hurt, after beginning to travel with a high elf and a human mage. She didn't trust them, but would make sure they grew loyal to her.

Words: 7k

Warnings: Baldur's Gate III Act One spoilers, blood

She half-opened her eyes, in-and-out of sleep, suffocating in this pod. She thought she was in hell for a moment. It was warm. Too warm. She was looking through her eyelashes, and in her blurred vision, she saw a figure fall to the ground, get up, struggle to keep their balance, and walk away before falling to their knees, but a second later, everything disappeared again. She blacked out completely. A great breath of fresh air tickled her nostrils and dashed into her lungs suddenly, pulling her out of her sleep. She gasped, sitting up in the pod, realizing that the lid had opened, hanging over her head. She leaned on the edges and jumped out of what she thought would be her coffin. It felt good, standing on her two feet, feeling the unevenness of the ground under the soils of her leather boots. A squishing noise behind her made her turn around and she watched the pod close. The blood in her head thrummed and pounded and she shut her eyes for but an instant, frowning at the headache with a groan.

That pounding blood obscured who she was. An overwhelming loss of memory. A sense of emptiness washed over her, and she looked into the void, pouting her lips. How she ended up amidst these hellish flames was just as hidden as her memories. She had nothing in her skull, besides her name and a headache. But she was in danger. She peeped around her. Phy’raena. No… Balfryn. She realised two names collided in her mind. Which one was actually hers? She was certain she remembered at least her name but now, she didn’t know who those monikers belonged to. Maybe none of them was hers. But she thought it couldn’t be both. It wouldn’t make sense for her to have two names, and they both had a different feeling to them. But it was yet too vague for her to decide on one. She would claw back the truth, but first, she had to claw her way out of here. She glanced back at her pod.

Mumbling, she recalled the crash of the ship, “Might still be stuck inside if we hadn’t been attacked.”

She walked around the room in which her pod stood on its tentacle legs. Next to hers was another empty pod. She figured it was the one from which she saw someone fall before blacking out. But not everyone made it out alive. There was a couple of burned corpses in ruptured pods. Walking in the middle of the room, through the fires burning here and there, she approached the very pool where that thing came from – the parasite now writhing behind her eye. The casing was fragile. The top was cracked, and the slightest touch could cause it to crumble. She bent forward, reaching out to the pool and widened her eyes, suddenly thrown backwards. It exploded in her face and went up in flames.

Destroying it was her intention anyway. She stood up and right at her feet was a corpse of one of those creatures, a mind flayer. A humanoid octopus with tentacles instead of lips and claw hands. She walked to the sphincter separating the room and entered another one. A dead goblin lied on a table in a pool of its own blood, and she stole gold from its corpse. Gold no longer was of any use to the dead, so she might as well relieve them of it. Looking at a rune slate on a desk, a schematic of a nautiloid flashed into her mind. Nerves, sinews, as much living being as a ship. Nearby was a sort of mind flayer horticulture. All to make more and more parasites. An eldritch table made a thousand years of humanoid history – elves, dwarves, humans and more – flash before her eyes. She, she was a drow. A dark elf. Her own memory was as dark as the history of her people.

A neural apparatus on a platform at the centre, a burning inferno right below, lifted her to the upper floor. She could oversee the whole room from there. In front of her, a dozen of brains floating in bubbles like containers and a body on a chair at the center. She walked around the dead elf, slowly. His skull was open and his brain, out in the open. She instinctively stopped in her tracks when the body twitched. A strange, high-pitched voice rose, but it didn’t come from his lips, his mouth wide open and his head titled backwards.

“Yes! You’ve come to save us from this place, from this place you’ll free us!” The drow looked at the brain with morbid curisioty rather than disgust. The exposed brain quivered in expectation. It begged her. She took a closer look. Never had she seen a brain talk. Blood and guts and corpses were far from unsettling to her but a talking brain, that was strange indeed.

“You sound afraid. Why?”

“The enemy. So many enemies.”

“Who am I talking to – a man or a brain?” She asked.

“A newborn. Born new from this husk.” The creature’s speech was in fact, unsettling. When she realized what it was, only then was she somewhat disgusted. She was talking to an intellect devourer, a minion of the mind flayers who abducted her. She violently dug her hands into the open skull and gritted her teeth, squeezing as hard as she could, blood spurting from the head, staining her already stained clothes and skin. It made a screeching noise. She took a step back and shook her hands, blood dripping from her slender fingers. She used the neural apparatus to get back down and continued to explore the ship. Maybe there were other survivors who could help her get out of this place. There was an opening. She followed the path. There was so much noise outside. The dragons flying by and the ship’s tentacles moving around. She couldn’t see far ahead. A thick fog covered dark mountains, but she could tell they weren’t in Faerun. It was a different plane. So, the ship could travel through worlds? She was lost in her contemplation until she felt a presence and turned around, only to see a githiyanki in armor leaping from a ledge and landing in front of her, threatening her with the sharp blade of her long sword.

“Abomination. This is your end.” There was a smirk on her face. The nameless, or two-named, drow didn’t even have time to say anything, she frowned and tilted her head, hands close to her face as she was about to grab it, fingers clenched. Her head throbbed and her skin tingled. Visions rushed past: a dragon’s wing, a silver sword – and a flash of her own face seen through the strange woman’s eyes. It was so brief that the memory of her face didn’t linger in her mind. She only remembered her red eye – or rather, bloodshot eye, as if its veins had bursted and spilled into the white – and the other, milk coloured as though a veil covered the iris, and the thick scar across her face, from her cheekbone to her jawline, and the fine tattoo of an upside down cross in a small circle on her forehead. The gith was panting as the connection between their minds broke. “My head. What is this… ngh. Tsk’va. You are no thrall – Vlaakith blesses me this day! Together we might survive.” She put her sword on her back, seemingly quite pleased to have an ally.

“What made you think I was a thrall?”

“We carry mind flayers. Unless we escape – unless we are cleansed – our bodies and minds will be tainted and twisted. Within days, we will be ghaik. Mind flayers.”

“We are turning into mind flayers? There must be something we can do!” The drow exclaimed, her panic growing, although her face didn't betray her anxiety so much.

“We can do nothing until we escape – that must be our priority. First, we exterminate the imps. Then we find the helf and take control of the ship. We will address the matter of a cure for this infection once we reach the Material Plane.” She followed her as she went back inside, and they looked at a bunch of those lesser demons feasting on a corpse. They sensed the women’s presence and as the gith pulled out her sword, ready to fight, she imitated her, taking off the blade from her back. The creatures screeched, their little, glowing red eyes staring right at them. They were easy to defeat. One strike and their winged, emaciated bodies fell to the ground in a thud. The warrior was pleasantly surprised with her new ally’s efficiency in battle. The latter was somehow just as much surprised with how effortless it felt to draw blood. She was covered in it and didn’t even care. They then ran through the room but Phy’raena – or Balfryn – she was still unsure what name to use, stopped the gith. “Not now – we must go to the helm.”

“Wait – who are you and why are you helping me?” She asked a question that even she wouldn’t be able to answer, would the very same question be aimed at her. Maybe Balfryn, the name reeked of blood in her mind, bringing a metallic taste to her mouth, though she had no idea why. It made her want to kill, to slaughter. She shook the thought without flinching on the outside.

“Who am I? Your only chance of survival. Now move. You are wasting time.” They jogged up the path, going through the rooms and sphincters, never stopping to catch a breath. The ship would never be able to take another dragon attack. They had to hurry and get out before it was too late. She was dead set on not dying in this hell. Climbing up arterial meshed, they reached another room, one yet to be explored. It was higher up in the ship so there was no fire inside and no monsters. But there was machinery. A control table with buttons on it, tables turned towards a red glowing beam at the center, some empty, others holding bodies. Balfryn took a look around, as she couldn’t make sense of the control table they came across, and not wanting to mess anything up by randomly pressing buttons. She stopped by one of the bodies. Life flickered in his eyes, but he seemed totally unaware of his surroundings. A fleeting image washed over her… An unwashed operating table… her innards without. The headache grew worse. She stepped back, walking away. Another control table, slightly different – no buttons, but slots, one of them empty – next to a closed pod. Someone was stuck inside thumping furiously on the lid. The woman called out to the drow.

“You! Get me out of that damn thing!”

“We have no time for stragglers.” The gith reminded her the urgency of their situation as she stared at the trapped person. Balfryn – she settled for that name for now – stood there, looking for a latch that might open the lid, but the construction was too alien. Nothing looked familiar. “This ship is crashing. Do you intend to die for a stranger?”

The gith was right, and Balfryn was too bothered to help and shook her head, “You might as well be trapped in Demonwebs. There’s no helping you.”

“Wait! That can’t be. There has to be another way. Please!” She cried out to them, begging for their help but they ahd their back to her and walked away, and continued their rushed exploration of the place, in search of the helm. Balfryn walked into an adjacent room. The sphincter opened as she approached. A mind flayer pod sat in the middle of the room, a four-legged brain walking around. It was what the brain that she crushed under her fingers would have been like. A dazed woman was trapped in the pod. She didn’t notice their presence. Walking around it, she approached a control table and put her hand on the console. As she placed her hand on the pod, she heard something: A presence to the pod, commanding the person inside to… change. She heard the woman’s muffled screams and rushed to see what was happening. Her skin became tainted, her eyes glowing red and her jaw cracked in multiple places, tentacles bursting out as she transformed into a mind flayer, smoke filling the pod. Once it was gone, there was nothing left of the red-headed woman she saw a moment prior.

“Kaincha! Changed at the pull of a lever? How? If we are not purified, this may be our fate.” The gith was right, and Balfryn felt a sense of dread fill her body. She had no idea who she was, but she wanted to remain herself, whatever that meant. The newborn mind flayer stared at the drow, weak and dazed. She walked out of the room, passing by the stranger trapped in her pod, who yet again cried out to her, and they took off. The next sphincter that opened led them straight to the helm, but tieflings, with dragon-like wings which was quite rare, were in the midst of a fight with two mind flayers dressed in leather capes. The beast wrapped his mouth-tentacles around his opponent’s head and crushed it. Imps flew right at him, slicing his tentacles and throat and he dropped dead. The one still standing turned to the newcomers, his voice, commanding and deep, sounding like an echo in their skulls.

“Thrall. Connect the nerves of the transponder. We must escape. Now.”

“Do it. We will deal with the ghaik after we escape.” Balfryn listened and while they stepped into the fight, the drow ran to the helm, dodging a few hits, reaching the transponder unscathed thanks to her ally, protecting her on her way there, taking down the imps coming for the dark elf. A few steps away from her goal, she stopped in her tracks, seeing a dragon fly through the air like a fury, right outside. They were about to launch another attack. The gith urged her to hurry before they struck the ship. An imp flew in her way. She dashed toward it and before it could attack, cut off its head. The body fell to the ground with a thump and the head rolled on the floor while she ran to the transponder, stretching her arms with a groan, her fingers brushing off the nerves as she leaned on the console to grab them but she did it, and as she connected them, she saw the dragon put its claws on the ship, peeking his head through the broken window. He spat fire and she fell to the ground, although shielded from it by the console.

Luckily, it was the only attack there was as the ship disappeared into thin air, teleporting away. Back home. Failing to remember who she was and where she came from, she still knew what world she belonged to. As it travelled through the planes, the ship flew vertically and Balfryn slid on the ground, her back crashing against the wall. She grunted at the shock and winced. Her body was tossed in the air by gravity and she barely held onto the edge of the helm, her legs hanging in the air. She stretched her arm, trying to pull herself up in order to reach the two nerves that she had connected. She grabbed it and the ship finally teleported to the Material Plane, bringing them back to Faerun. For a moment, she stood on her feet, but an explosion occurred on the ship and it nosedived, making her stumble and lose her balance, falling back to the ground and sliding to the edge of a broken window. She noticed, right across from her, on the other side of the window, the mind flayer stared at her. She looked back at him and didn’t see the large shard of metal that detached from the console and flew right at her head. The creature mentally pushed her aside and she flew out of the ship, losing consciousness during her fall.

Balfryn was awakened by sunlight, high in the sky, warming her skin, heating up her body through her brown leather clothes. She squinted her eyes, using her hand so as not to be dazzled by the sunlight as she looked around. She somewhat expected her memories to return once you were free of the mind flayer ship, but her past was still an aching void. If she didn’t find a way to remove the tadpole burrowed in her brain soon, her future would be as blank as her past. She frowned, tilting her head. It whispered vengeance: she couldn’t wait to slive her way forth, seeking whatever wrought this tragedy upon her. Stepping towards the water, she kneeled and cupped her hands to gather some to wash the dried blood off her face – and drank some, she was dying of thirst. Would she run into anyone, she wanted to at least have a try at getting them to trust her, and it wouldn’t be so easy if she was covered in blood from head to toe – she couldn’t do anything about her clothes though, or the fact that she was a drow. She would just change into something else when she found clean ones later.

There was a corpse nearby. Since she awoke on the ship, her mind had been cold and empty. But something stirred, with her hands close to this body. She sighed, knowing nothing of why. But she found a half-smile flittering across her face. She tried to remember the last time she stood above a corpse like this, but all she saw were flashes of flesh, all lumped together in a mass grave. No single image stuck out. Her memories would come back, eventually, but for the moment she ventured forth, pacing through the ravaged beach. In the distance, she saw the front of a building – a crypt – built in the cliff. There were bodies and blood everywhere and someone was pounding on the door heavily with a sledgehammer. She recognized the stranger trapped in the pod, who she chose to taunt and leave behind. If she was the one to have killed those people, the drow wondered if she would try to get back at her.

“Blasted door! I—what? Stop! Not another step or I’ll… Wait… you’re the one who left me to die on the ship.” Suddenly, Balfryn saw what she saw. Felt what she felt. Anger. Bitterness. A will to survive. “…agh! Did you feel that? You’ve got the same thing I do – in your head.”

“Yes, I felt this before, with another escapee from that ship.”

“If I were to guess, the things they put in our eyes. I assume that’s what caused our minds to… cross. But that’s the least of our problems. These things are going to consume us from the inside and turn us into mind flayers.”

“But I feel fine, all things considered… are you sure?”

“I’m sure enough. This is how the mind flayers breed. We host their spawn, and once they’re ready, they’ll tear right through us. I’m not sure how much time we have left, but I’m not going to wait to find out. You and I need a healer. Finding one won’t be easy. But first, we’ll need to survive the wilderness, I’d hopes there might be useful supplies through here. But I’ve merely made a dent in it so far.”

With one hand, she motioned for her to move out of the way, while searching her pockets with the other, “Stand aside – I have lockpicks. And the skills to match.”

“By all means. I’m going to see what’s at the top of this cliff. Hopefully, there’s no more of these creatures along the way.” Their glances brushed over the four-legged dead brains on the ground. The drow nodded to herself at the sight, shooting up her eyebrows.

“Quite some carnage at your feet. You have an admirable talent for violence.”

“Well, these things have been giving me plenty of practice. But I’d rather get out of here than push my luck.”

“Yes. I’m leaving before more things crawl out of the wreckage.”

“Likewise. Try killing a couple of these monsters before you die – lessens the load for me.” The young elf jogged away, Balfryn watching her before stepping towards the thick wooden door, patting her pockets again. The mind flayers might have snatched her from wherever she was when they raided the city, they didn’t take her things – most of them anyway. She still had a couple of lockpicks and her sword. She put one knee down and inserted her tools. The lock clicked and she pressed on the handle, pushing the door forward with her elbow and it hit something on the other side. She peered through the opening and didn't see anything other than a wood panel – a tall and large shelf was blocking the way. Better get moving, there was nothing else to do here. She wasn’t sure what was on the other side, who put a shelf in front of an already locked door. Whoever did that really didn’t want anyone to get in, and being on her own, she would rather not try her luck and instead come back when she had some allies, in case the place needed to be cleared of its occupants. As she backtracked, walking up the path around the cliff, she saw a strange symbol on the stone – an ancient sigil circled. Taking a closer look and putting her hand on it didn’t do anything so she observed it in silence before moving on. On second thoughts, maybe she should have asked the other survivor to stick with her. But she would have probably declined, more or less amicably, given how Balfryn left her to die on the ship.

There would be no reason for her to believe that the drow would have her back in the future. Maybe she was selfish or had a high sense of self-preservation. She went back to the ship’s wreckage. Upon stepping inside, she was faced with some more of these walking brains and it took her less than a minute to clear the area. She wasn’t at her best, but the creatures were small and weak. There was nothing interesting to loot from them as well, so she took off quickly, walking along the shore and up the cliff, where she heard seomeone crying for help. She didn’t rush to their aid, instead she observed them from afar before approaching. A pale skinned; white-haired man dressed in classy, richely adorned clothes. He must have had some money, if not just straight up rich. Nothing to envy to her rose ebony dress, made of fine leather, embracing her slender body like a second skin, giving her a lot of freedom in her movements with the double slits, one long piece of fabric in the middle. Less noticeable than the golden designs on his garment, there was embroidery in silvery thread which formed rosettes all over. Despite not having any memories, she could tell she herself was from the city, which was unusual for a drow. The man saw her approach.

“Hurry, I’ve got one of those brain things cornered. There, in the grass. You can kill it, can’t you? Like you killed the others.”

“Kill it yourself – you look capable enough.” She turned around but as she stepped away, she felt him move behind her and he brought his dagger up to her neck, dragging her to the ground with him. She gritted her teeth, holding the handle to keep the blade away from her, her eyes staring into the man’s – two red orbits. “Do elves often have red eyes like this”, she wondered. She knew of Lolth-sworn drow with red eyes, but not high elves. Balfryn herself had a red eye – her left – while the other was as white as seldarine Drow’s, but she had no connection to the evil spider goddess. There was no clear explanation as to why she had different eye colours, but there must be one, deeply buried somewhere in her mind. She tightened her grip on the handle, struggling against him and managed to twist his wrist, switching the power balance and taking the knife away from him as she pushed him on his back and swiftly sat up and rolled on her knee, throwing her leg over him, the soil of her boot digging in the sand as she bent over him, strands of her white hair falling in front of her face, holding his very own blade to his throat. He struggled against her but didn’t push her away. Her words were sharp. “What do you want? Speak, elf, and I might spare you.”

“I saw you on the ship—strutting about while I was trapped in that pod. What did you and those tentacled freak do to me?”

“What—agh.” She closed her eyes shut, holding her face with her hand as she got off him, stumbling backwards. He exclaimed as well. Their minds twisted. She was looking out of unfamiliar eyes, prowling dark, busy streets. And in this unfamiliar feeling, there was something… familiar. She tried to hold the memory, wanting to see more of this place whose souvenir lingered in a dark corner of her mind, but it faded to the worm. The light. The fear. The connection stopped and she opened her eyes to the elf standing in front of her, just as distraught.

“What was that? What’s going on?”

“Honestly, I have no idea.”

“It’s those tentacled monsters. Whatever they did – whatever they put in us – just created a connection. They took you too. I saw it during… whatever just happened. And to think I was ready to decorate the ground with your innards. Apologies.” He smirked and she couldn’t help but let out a scoff, crossing her arms, still holding his knife in her hand.

“Huh, more like I was going to decorate the ground with yours. You didn’t have the upper hand for long.”

“Yes, I must admit – you’ve got me there. My name’s Astarion. I was in Baldur’s Gate when those beasts snatched me.” She slightly parted her lips, about to say that she thought her name was Balfryn but she changed her mind and simply gave him a nod. “The strong and silent type? All right. Please tell me you at least know something about these worms.”

“Yes, unfortunately. They’ll turn us into mind flayers.” The gith she escaped with seemed quite sure of this at least. He bursted into laughter – a bitter laugh.

“Of course it’ll turn me into a monster. What else did I expect? Although it hasn’t happened yet. If we can find an expert – someone that can control these things – there might still be time.”

“Right. You should travel with me. Our odds are better together.” This time, she wasn’t going to pass up on having an ally. They seemed to be kindred spirits. Another rogue – a cunning soul.

“You know, I was ready to go this alone, but maybe sticking with the herd isn’t such a bad idea. And you seem like a useful person to know. All right, I accept. Lead on.” He ended with a bow, and she returned his knife to him. The soft smile on her face didn’t betray how, as he joined her side, her mind danced with thoughts of a perfect pretty corpse. She shook them away and they set off. As they walked, she questioned him – asked who he was. Though he didn’t get into details, he did mention he was once a magistrate back in the city, which confirmed what she thought – he was a magistrate, so he did in fact have money. It got her wondering how she got such well-made clothes – maybe she was someone too, she just forgot. In any case, he knew better than to return the question. She wouldn’t answer, but it was solely because she couldn’t give him any. Strange thoughts twisted her mind while two names were as if fighting a duel.

The duo ventured through the shipwreck, quickly passing by the corpses she left behind after her fight earlier. On the path outside, she saw footprints. There may have been even more that survived the crash, or it was the other girl’s footprints. Just a few feet away, there was another ancient sigil but the rune looked unstable. She approached the sigil on the stone. Magic glittered and swirled from it erratically, as if malfunctioning. It looked slightly dangerous. She stretched out her hand to touch it but a bolt shot at her hand, making her take a step back. A forearm than stuck though the circle and a voice rose, souding like an echo.

“A hand? Anyone?” Looking at the limb, Balfryn fantasized about hacking it off, but she fought against it and ignored the urge to maim whoever was on the other side. She grabbed the hand and pulled him out of there, losing her balance and almost falling on her butt if it weren’t for Astarion being right behind her and catching her. A tall man stood before them, his beard neatly trimmed, and his wavy hair elegantly swept back. By the looks of his outfit, he was a mage or wizard. And given how he just came out of a portal he was stuck in, this was most likely what he was. Balfryn watched him shake her hand with a frown on her face. “Ooft, hello, I’m Gale of Waterdeep. Apologies, I’m usually better at this.”

“At introductions?”

“At magic. Say, but I know you, don’t I? In a manner of speaking. You were on the nautiloid as well.” He was the second person to say he already knew her, but with him being a wizard, she felt more threatened than by her elven peer. Also, the stranger was a human, and even though she had no memories of her past, she remembered how humans came second when it came to discriminate her for her race – high elves coming first and by far, being the most judgmental and creative win the matter of making up derogatory names to refer to her, but it seemed as if Astarion was different. She didn’t trust him, and didn’t like his friendliness so she drew her sword. “Whoa – easy does it. You really, really don’t want to do that. Not a threat, just an observation.”

“And why would I really, really not want to attack you?”

“Ten years of bad luck if you kill a wizard. Why take the risk?” He still gave her a smile and she began to think she might be a tad ridiculous, overreacting like that. She sheathed her weapon. “Much obliged. Besides, I suspect the real villain is one we have in common. Back on the ship, you too were on the receiving end of a rather unwelcome insertion in the ocular region, were you not?”

She crossed her arms, “Couldn’t have phrased it more repellently myself.”

“No use sugarcoating it, is there?” He wasn’t wrong really. “The insertee we speak of, this parasite – are you aware that after a period of excruciating gestation it will turn us into mind flayers? It’s a process known as ceremorphosis and let me assure you: it is to be avoided. You don’t happen to be a cleric, by any chance, do you? A doctor? Surgeon? Uncannily adroit with a knitting needle?”

“I’m no stranger to high-stakes extractions, but these tadpoles are beyond even my light fingers, I can’t cure us.”

“I suppose few enough can. It’s not exactly a common affliction. We’re most certainly going to need a healer, and soon too. How about we lend each other a helping hand once more and look for a healer together?”

“Uh, okay. Sounds like a plan. You’re welcome to join us.”

“Most excellent. A parasite shared is a parasite halved. Or something to that effect. Oh! But before you think you’re about to embark on a journey with most ill-mannered a man: thank you for pulling me out of that stone. It was an act of foresight kindness I assure you, for I have the feeling ample opportunities will present themselves for me to return the favour.”

“Right.” She mumbled under her breath, just nodding as they resumed their walk. She wasn’t too fond of her companions just yet, a high elf and a human. She was waiting for the moment when they would end up being hostile towards her. The two men followed the drow east towards the ruins, whose door she couldn't open. The other dark-haired girl said there might be supplies in there, or anything really, so now that she had some backup, it was time to check the place out. She and Astarion remained silent while the wizard kept on introducing himself – his name was Gale apparently and he went on about how he sailed from Waterdeep, that he had a cat, which he seemed to love an awful lot, a library, and a fondness for wine.

He quickly quieted down but just a minute of his monologue was enough for her to see his character – he was no threat, and she could easily nurture his loyalty towards her. The chapel’s entrance overlooked the ravaged beach and Balfryn took a second to watch the wreckage from afar. They turned around and walked up a flight of stairs, glancing at a tall statue – the only thing not in shambles, standing proudly at the center. As they proceeded to explore the ruins, they ran into two men arguing loudly – one a high elf, and the other a gnome.

“…You’re both twice as tall as me but have half the bloody backbone!”

“But we don’t know what that thing even is! And what about the crypt?”

“I’m telling you, it’s a ship! And the crypt can wait! Mari and Barton have been trying to break in for days. Now we—Stop!” The gnome held out his hand upon noticing the trio approach. “Got ourselves competition already! That’s our ship!”

“I don’t want to hurt you, but provoke me, and I’ll keep stabbing long after you’re dead.” She stated, coldly.

“Well, uh, in that case…” He turned his head toward his companion. “C’mon, you lot, no point in getting’ killed. Second worm gets the cheese, an’ all…”

“Uh, second mouse gets the cheese, no?” The elf corrected, as if getting the saying right was of importance right now. The gnome yelled at him, and they ran away before the drow put her threats into action, which she would if they kept testing her patience. A cracked stone caught her attention, and she kneeled, leaning forward on her hands to investigate the hole. It was completely dark inside, but she could see an empty room with rubbles in the corners, a bunch of empty boxes and two single beds. She heard voices echo in the crypt also, though very low. She got up and glanced at her peers – they would get in one way or another. They walked to a door, a few feet away and someone inside must have heard their footsteps get closer because a muffled voice spoke to them through the door.

“That you, Gimblebock? Everything all right out there?” Balfryn saw an opportunity to get the door open and infused her voice with a false sense of urgency.

“Gimblebock triggered some trap. He needs help – now!”

“I told him it wasn’t safe out there. Get inside, and I’ll rustle up some bandages…” A satisfied smile dawned on her face, and they pushed the door open when the lock clicked. The man they encountered inside barely had a mace as a weapon, he was struck down by Balfryn’s blade in less than a second. She searched his pockets and took a key from him. If there was a locked door or chest, she would try it out. A dust-covered plaque hung on a wall in the chapel’s refectory. Ancient, indecipherable text covered the plaque. A dead tongue. Whoever worshipped here must have been long gone. A fire was lit in the fireplace, and she grabbed some food from the table – no need to let it all go to waste. Gale offered to put the rest in a magic bag to take it with them before they set up camp later. Having a wizard by her side might prove useful afterall. They pulled a lever by the door and someone else was in the chambers. A single blow from Gale, throwing a fireball at her, and they could wander around freely.

On their right, they found a door was locked – no lock, no handle. They continued to the end of the hallway and stepped into another room. They killed all four people inside and moved on – aside from dusty books, there wasn’t much to see in there. At the very end of the room, there was a second statue, like the one on the surface, by the entrance. The text on the plaque at the front was written in the same language as the one in the refectory – none of them could read it. Walking along the walls, she found a skull carved out of stone with a large ring hanging from its mouth. She touched it, and it seemed to activate a mechanism. The party returned to the door without a lock or handle and found it wide open. They stepped into a dank crypt; the humidity in the cold air was palpable. Something about this place made her think it wasn’t built for the living to begin with. Two heavy oak doors faced each other on either side of the room. One of them was locked so they turned to the other. On the other side was what seemed to be a sort of tomb, with an imposing coffin carved in stone – a sarcophagus.

The two rogues stopped Gale from walking into a trap. They would need to be cautious around here, there would surely be more. Balfryn approached the coffin and observed it closely. If she was to try to open it right now, she would trigger a trap, and something would blow up in her face. With Astarion, she proceeded to disarm it so they could take a look at whatever might be inside. A spear lied next to the skeleton and the magic in it tingled her fingers as she bent over to take it, along with an engraved key. Maybe this one would prove more useful than the first. And hells, it did. It opened the other oak door to the other side of the crypt. A huge opening on the right led to a cave and light from outside flooded into the crypt. This would be their exit. Here and there, skeletons lied on the ground – armed scribes, but no sign of a struggle.

“Jergal? This must be ancient - no one worships The Final Scribe anymore.” Astarion looked at the statue at the center of the room.

Balfryn stepped over a few decrepit bodies, still clad in their armor and helmets, damaged and eaten away by time, “Hey, there’s something over there.” She climbed a flight of stairs to the left as she noticed a button on the wall. She pressed it and a stone wall rumbled slid open, dust and rubbles falling. They didn’t even have time to peek at whatever was inside the secret room, the half a dozen skeletons in the dank crypt rose, as if back to life and attacked them. Balfryn rushed towards them, tightly holding the spear she ditched her sword for with her two hands and knocked a couple of the undead to the ground while the other rogue and the wizard took down the rest. Unsurprisingly enough, once their bones were scattered across the floor, they didn’t get back up and the trio moved back to the room the drow had opened a moment earlier.

Inside sat a large, richly adorned sarcophagus. She went to push the lid off but retracted her hand and took a step back when it slid off on its own and a bunch of greenish flames lit up all around the sarcophagus. Her eyes widened when a corpse flew out of it. Unlike the other he wasn’t a literal skeleton, but a decaying body, pale-brown, desiccated skin, lacking a nose and with clothes turned to rags by the passing of time, much like the other undead in the crypt. Her eyes went to the elaborate gilded strips of metal adorning his face, arms, and collarbone. He came down to the ground.

“So he has spoken, and so thou stands before me. Right as always. What a curious way to awaken. Now I have a question for thee: what is the worth of a single mortal’s life?”

“Quite the question. What’s the reason for it?” She wondered.

“Curiosity. Nothing more.” He did seem genuinely curious. “Will thou answer my question?”

“Yes. Ask away.”

“So I ask again: what is the worth of a single mortal life?”

“Mine seems worth little, as my blood calls me to harm others.” She confessed, though her companions must not have understood why she said what she said, or what she meant by it. They weren’t in her head to live and feel those urges. There was something beyond her – something that controlled her and yet she tried to control it. And it didn’t have anything to do with the worm.

“A life and how it is lived are different equations. Very well. I am satisfied. We have met and I know thy face. We will see each other again at the proper time and place. Farewell.” She followed the undead towards the cave mouth. He turned around, “We have nothing more to discuss. Continue on thy way, as if I were not here. I must attend this place, after so many years away. We will see each other again soon.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, “You seem very certain of that. How?”

“The mechanics of fate would be difficult to explain to one such as thyself. Regardless, it will occur.” And on these words, the cryptic individual walked away.

[To be continued…]

Next Chapter (SOON)

Published (12/01/2024) by Andrea

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xpao-bearx · 1 year ago

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Guess who started being consumed by playing BG3??? 👁👄👁

In honour of this INCREDIBLE game, here's my Tav!

(Sorry that the photo quality isn't the best, these are not in-game screenshots! I just took pics with my phone, but I do wanna say that my Tav has a LOT of freckles on her body that the pics didn't do justice)

Her name is Mon'sun and SHE IS MAH FUCKING BABYYY 😭❤️❤️❤️

I plan on writing a fic with her and the star himself (AKA MY DARLING 🥰): ✨️Astarion✨️ I already have a SHITLOAD of ideas, I just wanna play some more first and see how Astarion's romance pans out before I begin! So if that's something you'd be interested in reading, thanks sooo much and deffo keep a lookout for any updates~ Also, their ship name is SunStar which is JUST THE CUTEST FUCKING THING ALSKDJSKLJ

And I just wanna give my deepest love and gratitude to my two queens @kuroosexuall and @matchamocchi 💕 They have been nothing but patient and supportive of all my SERIOUSLY unhealthy fangirling over the sassy vampy elfy as well as my OC 🥲

But for the meantime, while I still haven't written my fic, below are some (*cough* a LOT so buckle up *cough*) stuff I've thought up for Mon'sun! Just to give y'all a fun lil taste of how I imagine her as a character, though I'm sure as I continue to play I'll get even more ideas and I'll probably have to edit this or post more about her, in which all posts connected to her will be tagged as #Mon'sun and Mon'sun x Astarion being tagged as #SunStar so y'all can easily search for them if you're interested. BTW I purposely left out extra details regarding her childhood as well as her thoughts about the tadpole cuz those are stoofs I'd like to reveal and explore in my fic!

And sadly, I'm not an artist, but I'm planning on and SO excited to commission various artworks of Mon'sun and SunStar from some truly extraordinary artists when the time comes so just wait for thy eyes to be blessed! \(^o^)/ Speaking of, if y'all are ever curious about Mon'sun, please don't hesitate to send me asks and such cuz your interest in my baby would be the BIGGEST honour 🥹

Now, without further ado...

Get to know "The Scarred Bard" under the cut!

In the game, I chose Voice 8 for Mon'sun but I headcanon that her voiceclaim is annapantsu (YouTuber who does a lot of amazing song covers!! 🙌)

Her theme song is Love Runs Out by OneRepublic

She does have a last name that she took on in honour from the woman who adopted her in Baldur's Gate but she hasn't found the need to tell anyone what it is

A drow half-elf and a College of Lore bard 🎵

Tends to face a lot of discrimination due to being a "filthy half-breed" and possessing drow ancestry, not to mention her drow parent being Lolth-sworn; her blood red right eye a telltale sign and a deep, angry scar permanently carved across it a merciless reminder of what she resents about herself

Occasionally has dreams and thoughts of the goddess Lolth speaking to her, tempting her with sweet whispers of cruelty and darkness. Mon'sun tries her damndest to resist--to stay on the path of good--but violent impulses erupt when the thin string of her patience (and sanity) snaps and it feels so fucking good

Mon'sun aligns as a chaotic neutral character. While she does try to be good, she is quite an unorthodox heroine in her personal little tale and can be pushed to make extreme decisions should she feel that they are for the better...or just whichever's a more fun option 🤭

Survived a poor and bleak childhood, but full of love in her early years; certain circumstances impacted this happiness which drastically changed everything

One of the youngest in the party, only in her early to mid 20s. And though she's not sure when her actual birth date is, she does consider the day she was adopted--saved--as such

Very resilient and versatile even through the worst scenarios (likely due to her past), but would much rather avoid problems whenever possible. She may be seen as a bit of a coward because of this though she certainly doesn't mind (she'd like to keep her gorgeous head, thank you very much!). However, there are times where she exhibits great bravery, such as standing up for the weak and defending innocents regardless of the consequences. She can also be quite mischievous and defiant with her enemies, truly a bard through and through with her vicious mockery 😈

She tries to see the good in everyone, to be patient and understanding, giving them the same chance she hopes to receive if she ever finds herself in a similar situation. However, some fuckers don't deserve that kindness and a sick, exhilarating part of her deep down yearns for the bloodshed sure to stain her hands. After all... She would only be granting them a mercy by ending their repulsive, pathetic lives...right?

She is proficient with weapons though she prefers casting spells especially ones that can be utilized from a good distance (Fireball being one of her all-time favourites--efficient and hot, both in a sexy way and an "I will feed your barbecued corpses to my widdle baby owlbear" way). She's also a fantastic cheerleader; she will happily let the stronger people on the team handle the grittier scraps of battle while she does a jaw-dropping performance of ✨️Bardic Inspiration✨️ on the sidelines (Lae'zel STRONGLY disapproves)

Skilled in stealth and sleight of hand accompanied by a biting wit (seriously, she has the potential to have been a rogue instead). Tries her best to make an honest living as a wandering bard, but whenever money and options are tight then she's driven to petty thievery. Although, as much as she hates to admit it, there is something in her that utterly relishes in the intoxicating rush of crime

Lockpicking is more so a hobby rather than a necessity for her. Funnily enough, with how much she likes to explore, she probably came across and "collected" the key that opens that mysterious door advancing the party's adventure. However, the key seems to be merely decorative because Mon'sun already opened the door since the shiny lock caught her eye as soon as the party stepped into the room! She'll even lockpick a shabby chest filled with absolutely nothing simply because she finds it to be a fun game to pass the time while everyone else debates on the next course of action (like a child being given a toy to amuse themselves with while the adults discuss boring adult shit). Astarion will even join her sometimes, and they also constantly challenge each other on who gets to disarm a trap first while the rest of the party make bets on who will win

What she lacks in strength, she makes up for with her incredible dexterity

While she is a survivor in her own right, she can't deny that pure dumb luck has saved her more times than a bard has bedded a dragon...which is definitely saying a lot

After travelling around for so long, the vast world of Faerûn has fuelled her curious mind with quite an impressive amount of knowledge along with fascinating stories to tell. But while she basks in the freedom of it all, her heart aches for a true sense of belonging; a home

She loves--and I mean LOVES--looting dead bodies. While their demise is certainly unfortunate, their loss is her grateful gain as well as a much less criminal way to obtain some quick valuables (hey, she can sympathize and get rich. It's a win-win!)

A biiit of a hoarder (perhaps she was a dragon in a past life, she jokes). Her pack is nearly always full of various junk, good and bad. She gets attached easily to these items and keeps making the excuse that "they could be handy or fetch for a pretty penny one day" all while almost never actually trying to get rid of them (DEFINITELY not me projecting myself here 👀)

She is VERY charismatic, successfully deceiving or talking her way out of many toils and even persuading powerful creatures to side with her which makes her pretty powerful, too, in her own right. On the other (much darker) hand... This sweet, cheerful bard has convinced some enemies to literally kill themselves, saving her from aaall the tough work she really can't be bothered with of ridding them herself--and she'll gladly do it again in a heartbeat. Work smarter, not harder as they say! 👏

Confident, outgoing, and playful with a flair for the theatrical; also rather perceptive to the people and things around her, but can be serious and empathetic when needed. Often tries to keep a positive (if not naive) outlook on life and continues to hold hope for a better future against all odds, yet is actually burying a devastating loneliness and pain within the depths of her soul

Can be a flirt and almost never hesitates to sleep with any man interested in her. For her, however, it's not about physical pleasure--it's about intimacy. Chasing after the high of being in someone's strong embrace, their warmth melting the icy melancholy her heart is trapped in; even if only for one, meaningless night

Despite everything, she has a big heart. She has a hard time saying no to anyone in need, her selflessness (or too much of it for that matter) sometimes leading to be a weakness. She particularly has a soft spot for children and animals, as well as being able to understand and communicate with the latter thanks to the "Speak with Animals" spell. And while she is a chaotic neutral, she instantly becomes chaotic good (emphasis on chaotic) when it comes down to animals, literally slaying everything in her path if it ensures the animal is safe from those that hurt it as well as adopting any stray back in camp if it's possible (Astarion hated it at first, until an ungodly swarm of adorable cats eventually started to appear 😹)

Besides her affinity for dramatics and the spotlight, she is usually a pretty relaxed person. That all changes, however, when a party is involved. Bring her to a lively tavern and pump some drinks into her system and she's more than ready to live it up the entire night! Good luck trying (and failing) to rein her back in... She's toootally not banned from a few taverns because of this 🙃

Talented in singing and playing many different instruments, but her main instrument of choice is the lyre. The lyre that she ventures everywhere with is from her childhood, a gift from someone near and dear to her heart. The "Spider's Lyre" as it's curiously called, in which her nimble fingers have nearly been sliced off countless times in her youth while practicing due to its dagger sharp strings, but she cherishes it like her own life

Although music is her passion--her blood--she indulges in other forms of creative art like writing and drawing when she has the time. She proudly showed off her skills this one instance when she doodled on Vlaakith's portrait in Crèche Y'llek. She believes she made it look so much better, but you could say that she and Lae'zel had...creative differences. But was it worth it even though she got chased around by Lae'zel afterwards as the gith maniacally swung her sword, Astarion giggling in the background while everyone else tried to stop Lae'zel? Oh, absolutely!

While she doesn't have much and has learned to make the most out of very little, she's quite vain and puts in the time and effort to take care of her appearance. As a bard, she lives to perform, but stands by the firm belief that her beauty needs to shine as brightly as her stage presence does lest she's hardly a bard at all

Easily makes friends almost everywhere she goes (even with more, um, questionable folks), but difficult for her to open up more and feel that she is genuinely close to someone (until she met the companions, that is)

Has a little habit where she fiddles with her eyebrow piercings whenever she's anxious or deep in thought

She's not a fan of dark spaces. She's not afraid of the dark, but being in any gloomy place for too long makes her feel uneasy and prone to panic attacks, desperate to feel the sun on her face again. One of the reasons why she's never visited the Underdark before, opting instead to learn about such dangerous beauty through books and other adventurers' experiences

When she's being idle...well, she's not very idle at all. She's always softly humming something to herself or slightly bouncing/dancing in place

Keeps the party entertained on their journey through singing and sharing tall tales. Well, "entertained" is a bit of a stretch, considering Lae'zel's always screaming at Mon'sun to shut up (spoiler alert: she won't) 🤐

Has nicknames for everyone in the party: Astarion is Astie (later on "my star" when romanced and Astarion calls her "my sun"), Gale is Big G, Lae'zel is Lae-Lae (*cough* more like Lae-Me-To-DEATH *cough*), Karlach is Spicy Mama, Shadowheart is Shady Girl, and Wyll is Bof (short for Blade of Frontiers). Can't say that everyone's too pleased with what they're so lovingly (and weirdly) bestowed with, but they just got used to it and allows only Mon'sun to refer to them as such

Can be deemed as the therapist of the group. While she absolutely has issues of her own (and plenty, might I add), she chooses instead to focus on everyone else and help them. She is super protective over them (although, one pale elf in particular has caught her favour out of all)

While she cares a lot about everyone in the party, she does consider Gale to be her bestfriend. They just get along really well together; Mon'sun proves to be an eager and like-minded listener/conversationalist to the wizard prodigy's ramblings while Gale is just thrilled that someone (and so pretty, too) is actually so kind and attentive to him as an individual, even helping him with his little--well, BIG--situation. Astarion, on the other hand... Well, let's just say that he's not as thrilled for Mon'sun to be so close to someone else, especially Gale of all weirdos 🙄

She's a pretty colourful person so it fits that her apparel is the same. She'll never be caught dead wearing something so woeful as plain ol' black or white. In fact, being so unbearably boring may just be the cause of her death!

Has complicated feelings about gods. They're interesting, for sure, and she respects anyone's beliefs in them though she wouldn't exactly put her faith in any of them let alone kneel (looking at you Vlaakith). She'd rather put her faith in herself--just like she always has--but that doesn't mean she won't take advantage of any "divine" blessings that may come her way. Such is the case when she obtained the Phalar Aluve sword from the Underdark, offering a tiny bit of her blood in exchange which pleased Eilistraee yet greatly pissed off Lolth (Mon'sun the chaos gremlin definitely got a kick out of that especially since she knows the big scary spider lady can't do anything to her...she thinks. She hopes)

While she certainly revels in having the upper hand in troublesome situations, she's not really a power-hungry person. Although, having power does have its perks. She won't lie, she has played around in her tadpole-infested mind the far-fetched but very possible idea of seizing the Absolute's followers under her own control (I mean, hey, if there's one thing she's learned during this unique little trip is that anything is possible). Not all cultists are actually evil; she likes to think that she could give them a fair shot at redemption, and it doesn't hurt that some of these cultists are powerful people that could potentially be used to "liberate the world of evil"... Blame (or rather thank) Astarion for unlocking (hehe subtle pun) this ambition of hers, though she doesn't think she could ever do this without Astarion ruling by her side--together

#Baldur's Gate 3 #BG3 #Baldur's Gate 3 Tav #BG3 Tav #Baldur's Gate 3 My Tav #BG3 My Tav #Baldur's Gate 3 Original Character #BG3 Original Character #Baldur's Gate 3 My Original Character #BG3 My Original Character #Baldur's Gate 3 OC #BG3 OC #Baldur's Gate 3 My OC #BG3 My OC #Mon'sun

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