#Fevra

[janearts]

Once again fantasising what Oskar Fevras' art might look like. A prequel of sorts, perhaps, to this.

[a2zillustration]

It's not every day you get your portrait painted. In fact, it's been exactly 0 days that's ever happened to Croissant.

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[[ All Croissant Adventures (chronological, desktop) ]]

[[ All Croissant Adventures (app) ]]

[rann-poisoncage]

[milleart]

you had one job, oskar.

[missuntitledblog]

Free the artist quest

basically turned Shadowheart into an exorcist by removing curses. Tedious.

After the task and claiming my reward, I decided to swap my tav with Astarion thinking he needs a self portrait cause he has no reflection. Oskar did the same dialogue and gave me a painting.

Then I tried using my Tav again to chat with Oskar. He offered the same reward. So the next step I did was bring everyone, even the hirelings. So I had a total of 14 paintings worth 1,500 gold each. I just need to find shops that have enough gold to buy.

The portraits we're all blank. Even if I dropped them on the floor at camp

[merciawintersageposting]

wishing him a very ✨bad time✨

[thatcerealkiller]

Added my Tav’s sweet comment on the portrait Oskar Fevras painted of Astarion.

Fic is underway…🥹

[agent-oo-z]

Such an amazing portrait, I’m so glad Astarion can finally see his face after all these years!

(Yes I know this is a bug it’s just. Really fuckin funny)

[bg3smash-or-pass]

[mermaids-ate-my-dinner]

It's an absolute crime you can get a portrait of your companions after completing the "save the artist" quest and then you can't even give it to them! What a sweet callback to Astarion's mirror scene that would be!

I mean, okay. If it was proper DnD I think all of us would have used illusions to show him what he looks like by now. But that feels like it could have been a very cute little scene.

[lunarreverb]

Okay, so I just found a, uh, substantial difference in BG3 depending on whether you rescue Oskar Fevras in Act 1 or not. I had assumed rescuing him was the optimal course of action, because it seemed altruistic to free him at the time (and I wanted a real painting of Astarion to show him his face). What was my actual reward? A house full of ghosts and a headache! (and, a crappy generic "painting" item that wasn't even as cool as the circus statue you can get.)

Guys, if you don't free Oskar in Act 1, here's what happens instead:

Oskar is broke as hell, but alive, operating out of Nine-Fingers' Guildhall selling counterfeit paintings. That's a little sad. He sends a letter to Lady Jannath asking for her to let him paint her again; he appears to have been left on read.

BUT, Lady jannath is fresh, she is moisturized, she is thriving. She is hosting an art show in her home! There are unique interactions and dice rolls with NPCs in there, living their silly little lives! No ghosts, no skulls, no bullshit! But wait, there's more!

If you can sneak around a chamberlain and get up into the attic, you find (and steal!) a totally unique painting in the secret room:

Not only is this painting unique, it's worth 1300 gold. You can run it back downstairs and sell it to Lady Jannath herself!

I double checked just to make sure I didn't merely overlook this painting in my save with a freed Oskar. When I unlocked the room in there:

Nope! Just spooky shit!

I'm kind of at a loss for what the story's implied moral is between these divergent outcomes. Artists will make your house spooky, so don't bother? Love can overcome a house full of smashed shit and dead people? Unclear!

Updated to add: It's been pointed out to me that the individual paintings that Oskar will do for you if you freed him and completed the quest can be sold for 1000 gold a pop, and is repeatable between party members. Honestly I just never thought to sell them, because it feels like an item that SHOULD be flavor, or a cosmetic for your camp.

[todderwodders]

WIP WEDNESDAY

I didn't miss it bc I haven't gone to bed yet

“Madam,” Oskar Fevras, rising man in the world, says to the Pictone Rose, a woman whose station has been set in stone by marriage to a lord.

“Do us both a favor and eat enough cadmium to keel over before referring to me as anything but ‘Lady Gortash’,” says the Rose, who is wearing such … simple things today. An overflowing tunic and skirt, silk and cream colored, what must be her husband's own sash tied around her waist in a cord that emphasizes the … open nature of her bosom. Her bare feet are kicked up on a stool stapled with velvet, a plush red to complement the soft white-blue of the soles. She has not even put the small book in her thin little hands down once, has not even looked up from its pages.

The Rose would look lovely like this - reposed, her curling horns polished lovingly with shea and oil - if only she were a year or two younger and perhaps less round in the belly.

“Of course, Lady,” he says. It is enough to make her pause mid turning of the page, eyes flicking up. Gone is her sharp smile, gone is anything related to her lovely, dew fingered charm. She snaps the book shut, tosses it to the side as if it is not the most recent edition of Volo’s Guide and a valuable treasure to most. Oskar knows because his Lady has wanted her own volume, and complained sorely when she sent the house boy to find it and he had come back that very evening empty handed, having walked to every bookstore within the Upper City and being informed of the same thing: I'm sorry, little sir, but it's been sold out.

The Rose stretches. Motherhood has robbed her of her willow frame, made her broader as she sits straight and pivots her once slight waist just so. She seems stronger now, not simply flabby, as most girls do when they become mothers. He can see chords of muscle as she cracked her knuckles with a jeweled thumb, her wedding band gold and red jeweled in the sunlight.

She does not stand, instead reclining back so she may study him, a hand pressed to her chin. The girlish flower pink of her stained horns and matching tattoo is gone now, made as red as her marriage ruby. Her eyes are hard on him, as if unsure what to make of him before her mouth tugs ever do slightly downward.

Dare he say it, Oskar considers that the madam may have missed him.

“Lady Gortash,” she says, checking over her immaculate nails - they lacquered a soft green.

“Lady?” He asks, suddenly feeling something inside of him squirm in discomfort. “I'm sorry?”

“My full title, Fevras,” The Rose says, sliding her hair over one shoulder. “I am a wife now.”

“Lady… Gortash.” He repeats. He remembers himself a little, thinks of his position and her own.

“Enver will be done with his meeting soon,” she says, “you'll be painting in this room-” the western facing parlor, with wide windows facing the white sails that clutter Gray Harbor. “And you will be done by dinner each day. No wine–”

Oskar feels his eyebrows arch.

“No smoking–”

Well that was fine, he abhors the habit, even if it is inescapable.

“No loitering with the staff.”

He thinks of the whirl of fine young faces that passed him as he had been shown through the estate and feels himself sour. Oskar had not expected that.

“I expect you here just after lunch, which is typically around noon but sometimes may edge past that hour, give or take. If time runs over you may feel free to dine with us, but I'd rather you didn’t. I know how inept you are when it comes to remembering your light sources so you may as well forget coming in the morning to attempt to play catch up if you fall behind schedule. I won't feed you at all and you will have to wait anyways, Enver has already moved several important meetings and one inventory assessment for you and they all begin at sunrise now.”

“Well Lady,” he begins, sees his error on her pinching face as she begins to rise from her seat, and adds: “Gortash, I might always paint you in the morning, if you'd like. I never did send a wedding gift.”

“Lady Jannath sent me a lovely ermine wrap,” she responds immediately.

Ermine. Ermine.

“That is very gracious of her.”

“Your patron is a very good lady.”

“That she is.”

[blackjackkent]

OK, let's set fire to this portrait.

Whoosh.

I love that the Sage background basically means I get points for being Smart.

The lady that came out of the painting is NOT happy about the situation:

"Oskar! Where is he? WHERE IS HE?!"

She vanishes in a poof of smoke and the quest updates:

Great.

Back down to Jannath and unconscious Oskar, where things are going down:

OK, so this looks bad. The good news is Jannath is not dead (hooray!), but the bad news is that she is very unconscious and the ghost lady is stark raving mad.

"Who are you?" she screams as Hector enters the room. "Get out. GET OUT!!"

Oskar is conscious again and looks like absolute hells, pale and exhausted. "Please... Kerri, my darling, listen to me..."

She rounds on him and screams louder. "You brought me here. YOU DID THIS!" She stabs a finger in Hector's direction without looking at him. "Do not interfere. HE'S COMING HOME WITH ME!"

Hector's eyes flick rapidly around the room, taking in the situation, trying to parse it out, sifting through his memory for anything that might be helpful in talking this ghost down, anything from any book or bit of study back at the monastery. There were many discussions of possessions, certainly, and of the spirit plane in general - but that was a bailiwick more of the clerics than the monks.

Hector has academic knowledge of a cleric's role in such a situation, of course. But no practical experience. And in the end... what he turns to is no defined practice, but simple compassion.

[CLERIC OF SELUNE] "Listen," he says haltingly. "You're lost and in pain. This plane is not meant for spirits..."

"Another one who wants to control me!" she roars. "He called me here, trapped me! Pathetic little childish boy!"

"I only wished to *explain* myself," Oskar mumbles. "To make you see how--"

"No! Enough of your whining! ENOUGH!" the ghost snarls. "Selfish, arrogant bastard of an artist! I wanted to be left in peace!"

Hector grimaces. The picture is starting to come together and he isn't sure he likes what he sees. Oskar, from love or pride, has made an incredibly foolish series of decisions, and this girl's spirit is being tormented as a result.

"Please," he says softly. "Tell us what happened to you."

"And how does that help me?" she sneers. "Or is it just to help HIM?!" Her voice lifts in a bellow that shakes the rafters. "Why does everything always have to revolve around OSKAR FEVRAS?"

"Oh, my sweet Kerri," Oskar whimpers, flinching back from her. "What did I do to you?"

"Save your tears for the Ethereal Plane," she hisses.

Hector considers his words carefully. This situation is hanging on a knife's edge; if he says the wrong thing, this ghost is clearly very capable of hauling Oskar off into the plane of spirits, never to be seen again. And yet... he suspects that this is some twisted, darker version of the soul Oskar wanted to reach, corrupted by its passage to this plane where it is not meant to live.

And some of that soul might still be reachable...

[MONK][PERSUASION] "Ask yourself," he says, still soft, soothing, "will killing this man make you happy? Give you purpose? Or are you better than this?"

The spirit's scowl flickers into an expression of puzzlement. "What are you saying?" she mutters. "You're trying to-- confuse me. It's so hard to think... I don't remember..." She trails off.

Oskar steps hastily into the silence. "Kerry... my sweetmeat..." he wheedles placatingly. "I just need to know that what you did... that it wasn't my fault..."

The girl's expression is growing agitated, fearful. "Why am I here?" she cries. "I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be!"

Narrator: The spirit's aura flickers, changes. She is confused, lost - dragged here unwillingly by a man who refused to let her leave.

Hector shoots Oskar a sudden tight scowl; the disapproval in his expression makes the artist flinch back again and think better of whatever he was going to say next. It's clear to him now that the spirit is trapped here by some bond with Oskar, and until the air is cleared between them, she will not be able to return to a peaceful sleep.

When he is certain Oskar isn't going to interrupt, Hector turns his attention back to the ghost, and speaks with a gentle tone, reaching out towards her with the tips of his fingers. [MONK][PERSUASION] "Oskar does not matter," he says firmly. "You do. Say what you need to say to him, no matter how difficult it is."

The girl's lip curls. Her voice is softer now, but colder too. "Fine. If Oskar wants the truth, he can have it." She turns, snarls in the artist's direction. "We were a FLING, nothing more! My decision had nothing to do with him! I did this because I was so FUCKING sad! All the time!"

Hector's eyes widen as he parses the meaning behind this, but she's still talking. "Oskar finds it easier to imagine a world where women kill themselves over him than one where they have their own bloody problems."

Gods. A chill runs through Hector again, this time mixed with deep grief on the girl's behalf. She killed herself, and Oskar has dragged her back from the grave to reassure him.

"I'm sorry, Kerri," Oskar whispers. "I had no idea..." A pause, then, hastily, hopefully, "But I-- I was truly not to blame?"

The look Hector gives him could melt glass. You selfish prick... he thinks fiercely. Do you not see the misery you've caused?!

The ghost speaks before Hector can. "No. You weren't. So you and your poxy paintings stay away from me. We're done, Oskar. Over. Now let me rest in bloody peace."

-----

She vanishes into the ether, leaving all of them rather shaken.

Lady Jannath is slowly coming back to consciousness on the floor. Normally Hector would go to help her up, but he is still seething over Oskar's behavior and selfishness.

"Gods, what a mess I've made of it all," Oskar says piteously as his wife reaches her feet. "My sweet Fireliia... I've been a rotten fool, haven't I? And yet you never left my side..."

Hector fully expects the lady to give him a chewing out, but she just smiles at him with visible relief. "It will take more than a ghost to scare me away," she says. "Though I wish you'd come to me sooner."

"That's it?" Hector says, baffled. "You're just going to forgive him?"

"I'm no fool," Jannath says, reaching out and taking the artist's hand. "I know Oskar loved another when we met. But when we made our vows, I meant them."

"Throughout my ordeal, I saw how tenderly you cared for me," Oskar says, his voice heavy with emotion - or perhaps with drama. "Even at my worst, you never left my side. Truly, you were the one who saved me. I'm so sorry, my darling."

Perhaps Hector has simply had a long day, or perhaps the string of terrible problems he's had to solve is starting to wear on him, but he finds he is having trouble stomaching this. Complete ignorance of the revelation about the girl and her suffering, the self-righteous falling into Jannath's arms, the brushing aside of Hector's own contribution...

"Jannath deserves more than an apology for what you put her through," he says tightly. And Kerri even more of one. My gods... she killed herself, and all you could think of was your own peace of mind...

"A debt I'll spend a lifetime repaying," Oskar says gravely. Perhaps registering Hector's disdain, he turns to the monk with a wide smile. "As for you, my noble friend," he says brightly. "Our account can be settled far more quickly. Come upstairs to my atelier. I promise you'll leave with something priceless. Immortality!"

------

Hector watches the artist trot out of the room, his wife behind him, and realizes that he is clenching his jaw tightly enough to ache.

"You all right, Hec?" Karlach asks with some concern. "I thought you were going to deck him for a moment there."

"I was considering it," Hector says bitterly. A slight pause. "I was just considering the utter unfairness of the world, that this blistering, selfish, egotistical prick will have a long life together with his beloved, and I--"

He cuts himself off sharply but not quite soon enough; Karlach's head snaps back as if dodging a physical blow. "Yeah," is all she says, quiet, weary, sad. "Yeah, I know."

Hector lets out a heavy breath, reaches out and takes her hand and squeezes it. "Let's go see what prize he thinks is worth our while..." he mutters.

[little-red-fool]

OSKAR FEVRAS HAS THE SAME FACE AS ABDIRAK I JUST NOTICED WHAT.

[sweetmage]

Click for full res! ��

I'm not a huge fan of Oskar in the game for very obvious reasons but I have a lot of feelings about him being the twin of Tav!Abdirak (in my headcanon/AU) so here we are✨️

[dragonbard-bastard]

just finished Oskars quest line again. all my Oskar haters rise up I hate that fucking guy