#I know it makes no sense but I like to think half illithid would have tentacle tongues

[gortrash]

half illithid

[rosieofcorona]

All We Do Not Say

Hi beloveds! I have crafted a soft little Gale fic for you because it's my firm belief that everyone's favorite wizard deserves all the warmth in the world. 😌 Also on AO3, if you prefer. As always, thank you for reading. 💕

There was a time in his life that Gale could sleep anywhere, provided he had a good book and a space to sit down. 

In Waterdeep, he might wake in his armchair or on his balcony with the weight of an ancient tome still resting in his lap, or at his desk, his cheek pressed against parchment. The smell of it, of ink and lignin, would bring him back to his senses before his eyes were fully open, and he’d recall what he’d been studying, and begin reading again. 

At home, in his tower, he could do this night after night and still feel mostly rested come morning. 

But he is far from his tower, and farther each day.

Perhaps it is the orb that keeps him up as of late, with its insatiable, unnatural hunger, or perhaps it is the tadpole that wriggles and pulses impatiently inside his skull. Or it could, he supposes, be the simpler and less curable matter of aging– an affliction that seems, on occasion, more frightening than either of the others. 

Whatever the cause of his recent insomnia, it pulls Gale into a rather distressing cycle– he cannot sleep, so he cannot focus, so he cannot read, so he cannot sleep. 

Instead, he finds himself offering to keep watch over camp in the evenings, if only for the distraction. The far-off gibbering of a newborn gnoll, the crunch of foliage under goblin feet, an animal scream– each night a fresh and distant horror calls his mind away from greater threats, from illithids and tadpoles and gods.

It’s an odd remedy, he knows. But the alternative is lying awake in his tent, turning death over and over in his mind until the thought is worn smooth as a river stone. 

It works well for a time, keeps his mind on the present and off of some vague, future doom.

That is, at least, until they reach the Underdark. 

Deep beneath Faerûn, there is something profoundly disturbing about the lack of…well, everything. They find no grand cities or quaint little villages, few animals and even fewer people. 

No trees, no light. No sky. 

Most nights spent underground are so quiet that Gale may as well stay in his bedroll, staring up at a canopy of fabric, dark as the velvet earth above them. 

He thinks, It is like being buried alive, without even the stars to bear witness. 

On these nights he can feel the stones in his head turning over.

Even so, come the evening (or what he guesses is evening), Gale volunteers to stand sentinel for the fifth time in a tenday. 

He always asks them after dinner, when his companions are most likely to agree, after his cooking has warmed them and filled their bellies and made them want nothing more than to close their eyes and dream of somewhere, anywhere else. 

Tav is the only one who protests with any frequency, the only one who seems to notice that the circles under his eyes are half a shade darker than they were yesterday, when they were half a shade darker than the day before. 

Even on nights when she convinces someone else to take his place, he will relieve them after Tav has gone to sleep. 

It starts the same way every time. 

Gale walks the perimeter in an infinite loop, looking for life in the darkness, illuminated only by the fire in the center of their camp. It makes him feel like a distant planet, nearly untouched by the sun. How strange to think that he’d once felt like the sun itself. 

He continues in his orbit until the subterranean cold gnaws at his limbs. It bites down hard on his nose and ears and fingers, chases him back to the fire, back to the light. 

Hypnotized by the flames and their radiant warmth, he does not hear the quiet stirring in the tent beyond his own, doesn’t hear the soft approach of nimble feet. 

A voice comes to him out of the darkness.

“I hope you’re not keeping watch again.” 

“Mystra,” Gale gasps, startled, the goddess’s name invoked in equal parts a prayer, a curse.

“Forgive me,” Tav says, through a laugh she cannot help. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.” If it were anyone else he might be annoyed, or even a little embarrassed– but the sound of her laughter bubbles like seafoam over sand, rushes over and around him. Coupled with the relief that she is not some dreadful creature of the Underdark, he finds it difficult to feel anything besides affection. 

“It’s quite alright,” he recovers, with a shake of his head. “You surprised me, that’s all.”

“Then I really hope you’re not keeping watch.” 

She is teasing him now, just lightly, a familiar spark of warmth behind her eyes. 

It is the same look she gives him when she brings him a new book, or when he cooks for her, or when he tells her about Waterdeep. It is the same look she gave him earlier in the day, when she had offered to brew him a tea that might help him to sleep.

Gale has trouble remembering the last time another looked at him this way, so interested and inviting and earnest. 

Perhaps, he thinks, another never has. 

“Are you alright?” Tav asks, when he’s been quiet for too long.  

“Of course,” he says with the sincerity of a promise, offered with a smile that he hopes will be convincing. “Just lost in thought.” 

There is a part of him that doesn’t want to leave it there, that wants to share his every thought with her, his every terror, every dream. She must know that there is more to it, must’ve learned by now to recognize when Gale isn’t telling her everything, but he is grateful that she doesn’t press him, never presses him. 

Instead she breaks into a grin and says, “You’re lucky I’m not a bulette.” 

“I’m lucky they’re not so light-footed. What are you doing up, anyway?”

“The cold always wakes me, sooner or later,” Tav sighs. “If I’d known it was so godsdamned frigid down here, I might’ve nicked a fur or two from the Zhent.” 

It’s Gale’s turn to laugh, though she’s only half-joking. 

She’s drawn near to him, to the flames, her palms outstretched, her fingers spread wide as if to grab hold of as much warmth as possible. 

“But it’s alright,” she continues, “So as long as I’m close to the fire.” 

“Any closer and you’ll be in it, I’m afraid. Perhaps I can help.” 

Tav tilts her head and quirks an eyebrow in a curious little expression. “Can you?”

“If you’ll allow me.” 

Gale turns to face her fully, and she mirrors him out of instinct. 

“Hold out your hands to me,” he says. “Palms together, just barely. Like you’re praying.” 

“Like this?” “Like that.” 

The spell is one his mother taught him, among the first he’d ever learned. 

He still remembers that winter in Waterdeep, when the snow fell hard and fast. When the ice in the harbor kept the ships at arm’s length and the frozen streets shone like glass. He was young then, six or seven, but even now he can feel his small hands in Morena’s, warmed by a word and a touch. 

Warm and fed, she used to tell him. That’s how you show someone they’re loved. 

Gale cages Tav’s hands lightly in his own, the way he might hold a butterfly. He pushes all thoughts of winter away and calls to mind the rippling heat of summer, an orchard grown fat with peaches, the silvery shimmer of sweat on skin. 

The rose-petal flush of a cheek cradled in a hand, her cheek, his hand…

“Calor aestas,” he says quietly, when the image comes into clear view. He feels the cold melt from her fingers, hears the comfortable sigh that follows. “Better?”

“Yes,” she murmurs. “Much.” 

She is looking at him now with an intensity he has not seen since the night he first showed her the Weave, all that time ago. The night he saw her thoughts laid bare, had all but felt her lips on his. 

Had she seen them now, the visions he had conjured? Had she felt him pull her close in his own mind?

Tav clears her throat softly and he comes back to himself, his heartbeat thrashing wildly in his chest. He realizes with some urgency that he has not let her go and pulls back suddenly, but not without reluctance. 

“I hope,” he swallows, trying to compose himself. “I hope it helps you sleep.” 

“Do you want me to stay up with you?”

Yes, he thinks selfishly, Yes. Stay up with me, stay close to me, always. 

He shakes his head instead. “You should rest while the spell holds.”

“And how long is that?”

“As long as I’m able to concentrate.” 

He will think of her hands and their pull on a bowstring, their pluck of a lyre, their grip on a sword. How they weave her own magic, how they cradle a book. How they felt clasped in his, soft and cold. 

A focus worth holding, at last. 

“Only if it’s no trouble,” she says. 

“None at all.” 

Gale is grateful that he manages to stop himself, for once, from saying the rest of the thought as it enters his head. I would think of you anyway, magic or no.  

Tav takes his hand in hers again, this time to squeeze it fondly.

For a moment, he feels that if he were to die just now– from the orb, from the tadpole, in the jaws of a hungry bulette– it would all have been worth it, for this. 

“Thank you, Gale.”

Her smile is warmer than any summer he remembers, brighter than any star he can name.

[dekariosclan]

What do you think Gale would do if, after six months of living together, Tav gained a little weight and started complaining about his appearance?

P.S.: I know for sure that Gale will love us anyway (the ending for the mind eater is proof of that), it's just very interesting to know your point of view. You always have the best headcannons 😍

Well this is an excellent question, thank you! And thank you very much for the compliment on my hcs ❤️ This is great timing because I have been wanting to do a post talking about how Gale approaches physical attractiveness, and what it means to him in a relationship. You’ve given me the perfect springboard for that!

So, before I talk about the Tav in your scenario and how I think Gale would react to him having a negative self-image, I want to delve into some background on Gale.

First things first—Gale is a wizard, and as a wizard, he has had many experiences changing his physical form. He’s versed in invisibility spells, size-changing spells, appearance-changing spells/illusions, becoming incorporeal, turning to mist, etc, etc. You’d have to assume, then, that being able to change physical form so easily would make Gale realize that being considered ‘physically beautiful’ is not something of great importance.

Second, the world of Faerun is inhabited by incredibly varied and diverse physical beings: elves, dwarves, dragonborn, tieflings, githyanki, half-orcs, etc, etc. Imagine not only growing up and seeing so many different faces every day, but also being a scholar like Gale, one who is always eager to learn about different cultures. Gale’s perception of physical beauty is naturally wider and more varied as a result of being immersed in such an environment—and, since Gale is canonically pansexual, he has no preferences in regards to gender, either.

All this just to say: this is a man who, for his entire life, has had very little reason to care about physical appearances at all.

….and then we come to his relationship with Mystra.

Gale and the Goddess who presents herself as an ‘exceptional physical beauty.’ One that many would consider the pinnacle of physical perfection: eternally young, beautiful, flawless.

I’ve seen so many comments about how it doesn’t make sense for Gale to fall for anyone who isn’t ‘beautiful’ after he’s been with a Goddess. But think about it—what did that get him? What did his love of Mystra and her perfect physical beauty get him?

Abandonment. Heartbreak. Depression. And the realization that there was no sympathy or compassion to be found in the depths of that Goddess’s eyes. No actual love or warmth in her at all. Just a beautiful exterior; a cold, empty shell.

So given all of that: is it any wonder that Gale doesn’t give any weight to physical attractiveness when he falls for Tav? And instead only focuses on Tav’s goodness, kindness, and warmth?

Because Gale just wants to love, and to be loved. He truly only cares about Tav’s heart, Tav’s soul, and most importantly, about the loving bond that they share together.

Now, I do want to clarify—Gale does still recognize and appreciate the physical aspects of his beloved. Very much so, obviously, with his practiced tongue, his appreciation for Tav’s glistening muscles, and his (definitely thirsty) comment on Illithid Tav’s ‘moist tentacles.’

But all that’s a bonus in his eyes. That’s the result of his love for Tav; it’s not what made him fall in love with Tav to begin with.

Which is why it doesn’t matter what Tav looks like. In any form. Gale doesn’t care about the wrapping. It’s the gift inside that he truly treasures.

———

So OP, (assuming you made it this far—thank you for your patience!!)

I think that, if Tav gained weight as stated in your scenario, be it a little or a lot, and started complaining/making negative comments about himself…

Gale would, at first, be completely oblivious.

Not because he’s an inattentive husband, or because he’s not paying attention to his beloved—to be clear, he’s the most doting husband, and he hangs off of Tav’s every word—but because he loves Tav so much and adores him so deeply that he simply cannot fathom it. He cannot fathom that Tav’s comments of “I don’t fit into this anymore…” or “I don’t look like I used to…” are anything more than observations on living a lovely, comfortable, domestic life together.

But when Gale does finally realize what’s happening, and what Tav means…for a moment, he would be stunned. Because how Tav could think he was anything less than utter perfection would be mind-boggling to Gale.

He would compose himself quickly. Take Tav’s hands in his. Raise them to his lips, and between kisses say, “Forgive me, my love. Your husband has been remiss. It seems I haven’t told you lately just how much I adore you.” Then he would pull Tav in for a lingering kiss and, with a smouldering look, add: “More importantly, it seems I haven’t shown you. A critical oversight that I intend to correct—right now.”

And he would.

But later—much later—as they both lay blissfully spent in bed, if Tav’s doubts came creeping back and he still felt compelled to ask Gale, “What do you see when you look at me? Do you still see the old me, the one who was smaller, thinner? Or do you see this new version and simply…accept it?”

Gale would gently place his fingers under Tav’s chin. Tilt his head up so that their eyes met, place his other hand on Tav’s cheek…

And say, with utmost sincerity: “I see the love of my life.”

[mr-jack-letterman]

AAAAAAND WERE BACK with more Subway to Stardew silliness NSNNDD.

Thank you to the folks over at @subwaytostardew for making this wonderful mod and letting me make silly art about it lol.

In any case time for some headcannon nonsense.

(click for better quality because Tumblr makes it crunchy)

If Stardew Valley were to have a box legendary I think it would be Cresselia. It's literally Lunar pokemon and represents the crescent moon so it being the patron legendary of Stardew Valley just makes a lot of sense to me. Also Cresselia is underrated NSNDN.

Maybe there would be a secret special encounter for Darkrai. (the other half of it and Cresselia's duo but is a mythical for some reason?)

Also the Lunar wing would be very neat item to have in-game ANSNDND.

If it were to exist within the mod I imagine the farmer would be like "oooo shiny feather. Maybe it's a pokemon feather? Emmet/Ingo would probably like it :D" so then they make it into a necklace, or maybe just give it to one of them outright without knowing what it is. So Emmet/Ingo sees it and just starts freaking the hell out cause their crush/friend just gave them a piece of a literal legendary pokemon meanwhile the farmer is just....clueless NSNDND.

Now onto some of the other characters.

As basically the resident nurse joy of Pelican Town I think Harvey would have some pokemon common in the medical field. Though, pokemon like Chansey and Audino don't really fit his whole "whiskey neat, coffee black, bed at three"/ref vibes so I thought Indeedee would be best NSNDNND.

I also decided to give some pokemon to the characters mentioned within my ask.

Willy is very fond of water types, clearly NSNS. Specifically fish pokemon like Lanturn, Seaking, Whiscash, Wishiwashi, or Dondozo. (Though his actual team probably has a good chunk of pokemon that are still water type just not fish lmao) The crowning jewel of his collection is a shiny Magikarp he fished up. Maybe one day it will evolve, but for now it just swims around the docks next to his house entertaining anyone that visits.

He also has a Bibarel. (which I imagine is the grown up version of that one Bidoof that snuck into Pelican Town) It acts more like an overgrown housecat than a battle ready pokemon but it is incredibly bulky so ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯.

Morris also has a few pokemon of his own. Most of which he keeps at home. But his main two he's seen with is a Gimmighoul and a Gumshoos. (IDK he just has Gumshoos vibes to me NSNDNND) They run around Joja pickpocketing people's gold cause Morris is just a dick like that.

"It's Wizard time mother fucker, FIREBALL-"/ref

Wizard likes psychic types, but I like to think he also has a fondness for fairy types too. Also, most of em has at least one strong fire type move just so he has an excuse to yell "fireball" and blast something NSND. His Malamar is named Illithid (a wack squid monster guy from DnD lol)

Sandy likes rock types, given that she lives in a desert it's probably the only type of pokemon she sees on the daily lol. She also has a key stone on her earring. With how colorful a keystone is when compared to sand I think she would be the most likely to find one there. Idk exactly if she'd mega evolve an Aerodactyl or a Tyranitar, if any pokemon at all. But I think she'd carry it around regardless. It's pretty :]

Also she has a shiny Rockruff. I don't rly have an explanation for that one I think it just fits the vibe lol.

And now, shenanigans.

Emmet then proceeds to grab the child and just.... speed walk away HSBBDBDJJR.

That's all I have for now, I'll probably throw some other pokemon at the bachelorettes and other bachelors another time but this alone took a solid week due to finals 😭/lh

Time for me to go to bed lol, have a good one 👍

[ineadhyn]

Playing Astarion good aligned and what that meant for his character - a completely unnecessary but fascinating analysis

So the idea was: entirely good aligned Astarion origin playthrough

However I can't just do that, it has to fit into his character somehow. It has to make sense to me, so I did analyze and justify and this is what I came up and how it is going:

Normally Astarion escapes Cazador gets tadpoled and is a menace, a violent bastard who lashes out, barely contains how hurt he is and tries to get people to like him the only way he knows: through sex.

What if Astarion is the main character? The leader? If he figures people would like him if he is good or at least pretends to be. He notices quickly that people approve of good deeds and oh, how good the praise and gratitude feels. So Astarion tries being good for a change. People are easy to believe he's genuine because they want him to be, especially good souls like Karlach.

He still hooks up with Lae'zel, but figures quickly that his body is far less powerful than his arrow in the right throat. It's not worth it getting on his back anymore. Also he has set his eyes on the wizard (Gale was very suppportive about Astarion's vampirism).

As Act one closes he is too deep into the being the good person to drop the act now. Halsin is with him and he would annihilate Astarion if he ever found out how much he actually loathes the tiefling party. No, he is in this now, he has to carry on.

Entering the Shadow Curse and meeting Jaheira he remembers his own hero: Drizzt do'Urden and, now expecting more great things from himself and having to live up to the expectations of others, he tries to become Drizzt. His most asked question to himself is: wwdd - what would Drizzt do? It becomes his compass for decision making.

Gale finds himself in love with Astarion and Astarion is very pleased about that, a bit of genuine softness feels nice and also, hello, there's delicious hunger for power hiding under these purple robes amongst other things.

Now we come to the core problem this version of Astarion has: His heroism is an act, a mask. He has picked it up so quickly he never had the chance to be terrible and start to heal. He is as full of fear as he was at the beginning of the game and desperate for protection. He's reaching for every straw that will give him an advantage not caring for himself in a healthy way. He's ready to make sacrifices. He bit Araj.

He encourages Gale to go for the crown. He even toyed with the tadpole's power. Not ready yet to give up his beauty and become half-illithid but maybe after the spawn attack he panics so much he'll consume it. (I wonder if Cazador reacts to that, seeing his spawn like that, his beauty ruined) What a powerful protection against being sexually abused again. Gale will still love him, no matter his appearance.

And most likely he will ascend and pretend it didn't affect him. He needs to keep the mask up, can't risk to fail against the Absolute and reveal the weak spawn he (thinks) he really is underneath it. He needs the praise to keep coming, he needs to protect himself and his lover and Gale needs to protect him. So ... god Gale is also very much possible.

I am now entering Act 3 and will keep this updated because it is an unusual but very fascinating path to me. Astarion, glowing on the outside, the hero of Baldur's Gate, the good vampire, the one people trust - but on the inside he's more rotten than ever, more afraid than ever. The only real thing about him is his relationship with Gale, he genuinely loves him, which sadly makes it worse for both of them.

Note that I do feel bad for him, but am too intrigued to stop.

Here he is, drizzting his way through my game. Nailing the hero pose, just as he nailed the smile when he lured a target:

[changeling-fae]

You know, thinking about how Raphael and the Emperor fill similar roles but with different methods and how Raphael’s “better the devil you know” takes on a double (triple?) meaning. Raphael straight up tells you what he is and uses that as leverage against the Emperor who deceives you pretty much the whole time.

And for a lot of people it works, people in general prefer honesty up front and while Raphael is absolutely a shady devil, most people would respect his candor over being lied to from the start. Not everyone of course, the Emperor’s tactics still seems to work on a lot of players, given how many never learn he was manipulating them from start to finish.

But I really do like the scene of Raphael laying out all his cards and giving you an opportunity to compare them against the Emperor.

The Emperor could argue he lied about who he was because no one would trust an illithid (which is likely true) but he now has the disadvantage of another shady being persuading his target because said shady being was up front with who he was.

I do vibe way more with Raphael (obviously lol), and I recognize a lot of it is, yeah he was upfront about who he is and his motives. And while arguably headcanon territory, it’s still pretty clear that Raphael has some “affection” (in his own way) for us versus the Emperor who the moment you break through his facade, clearly cannot feel affection.

When he tries to seduce your character and if you turn him down, the narrator actually makes a pretty clear note of planting suspicion about how fast and suspiciously quick the Emperor changed tactics and words despite 5 sec prior talking like he cares about us.

Actually I wouldn’t say it’s that headcanony that Raphael has an attachment to us, all the jokes aside about him having a crush, we get the evidence that he has an attachment from other places aside from Raphael’s mouth.

The diaries and plaque (if you sign the contract) proves it in the sense that in game, Raphael never expected us to see his writings or his vault. And the archivist in the vault says something along the lines about how special we are to Raphael and how Raphael has a “softer spot” for mortals than most, and the archivist says all this to us thinking we’re just some random devil in disguise. Information that wasn’t meant for our ears technically.

Meanwhile you got the Emperor over here who is very good at faking affection and sympathy until you start to examine him more. Then he drops it like a rock, it’s almost scary how quick he can.

Raphael is oddly relatable because he is kinda pathetic in his own way. You can see where and how he got to being who he is. The Emperor is, well, alien. He’s definitely very good at utilizing his old memories of when he was mortal to his advantage, but that mortal is dead and he’s basically just another illithid, just one who happens to be more independent than most.

And while this is all speculation on my part, it’s clear that Raphael both hates but is attached to mortals, likely because of his own existence. He’s half mortal but lives and is bound by the rules of hell like a devil. I think he envies some of the freedom to choose that mortals have, and that’s why he’s so insistent that mortals don’t have choice. He wants that freedom to choose but can’t because of his nature (“hell, hell, hell has its laws”) and he’s trying to convince either himself and/or mortals that they don’t have a choice either, to cover up that envy he feels.

Imagine being the child of one of the big bad archdevils who rules over a layer of hell. There probably is a level or feeling of helplessness that he never had a choice but to be what he is.

And you can contrast that with the Emperor who is no longer mortal and while definitely fighting for his own independence and freedom, is quite content to be what he is.

Considering the whole game has strong themes about choice, fate, and freedom, it’s just fun how even the antagonists shares those struggles same as our characters and the companions.

[y-rhywbeth2]

Illithid: Biology

Link: Disclaimer regarding D&D "canon" & Index [tldr: D&D lore is a giant conflicting mess you can almost always find something that argues against [x]. Larian's lore is also a conflicting mess. There's a lot of lore; I don't know everything. You learn to take what you want and leave the rest. Frankly these posts may get updated now and then. etc]

Biology | Elder Brains | Culture | Variants WIP

I need a break from elves.

Frankly I think most of this info is on the wiki, but whatever; a compilation of three sourcebooks and some errata.

Life cycle: From tadpole to squid to Elder Brain food; how ceremorphosis is a joy (and also a manageable condition that need not end in tentacles if you stay on top of it)

Psychology: Propaganda hours and one-sided relationships for the tentacled academics; and why the undead make them flip their shit.

Physiology: Internal organs, lifespan, senses and what do you suppose being able to feel with your stomach lining is like?

Habitat: 'On today's agenda: kill the sun.'

Diet: You don't have to live on human brains, asshole.

Reproduction: So how are half-illithid made? WotC, once again, show me the forbidden mind flayer courtship lore.

-

It all begins when a mind flayer lays eggs in the brine pool that houses the elder brain. A clutch of mind flayer eggs consists of a pile of clear eggs, one-sixth of an inch in diameter, bound together by sticky garlic-scented mucus, which float at the top of the nursery (usually around the edges).

After a month these hatch into tiny mauve tadpoles less than an inch long (the tentacles are deceiving, they're not cephalopods, they're amphibians) which live in the brine pool as room mates with the colony Elder Brain. Most will be eaten by the Brain, leaving a handful of survivors (1 in a 1000 are spared).

Without the Elder Brain these tadpoles would begin cannibalising each other, until only one survived, developing enough to leave the pool and become a giant wormy horror that's about as intelligent as a dog that I'll talk about later. Nature is beautiful.

But moving onto the average tadpole who grows up with the Brain: Tadpoles take a decade to mature, feeding on mashed organs fed to them by 'nursery attendants.' Once they're about 3 inches long they're ready to get shoved up somebody's nose. The 'sucker' on the underside of its body which served as a mouth has developed a spiny rim, and four tentacles and webbed growths have spouted from it like a tail. By the time they're mature they look like elongated tiny octopi.

Tadpoles are implanted into the orifice of a humanoid being of appropriate size. Eye, nostril, ear canal, you decide.

Hosts must be mammalian, between 5'4"-6'2" tall and weigh between 130-270 pounds. This means candidates for ceremorphosis are humans, elves, gith, gnolls and large goblinoids. Worry not, the rest of you may still be of service to our glorious mucus covered masters as slaves and food, and advancements in illithid science now allows gnomes to become tiny squid people.

A tadpole in its natural state is about as intelligent as a frog. It proceeds to consume its host's brain, growing in size and intellect and melding itself to the brain stem, replacing that brain as the body's control centre.

The length of the process varies by host, depending on both their strength of mind and physical health and can take from an hour to a tenday or more. Translating mechanics to narrative: as the brain damage develops the infected loses motor control and balance, memory, personality, intellectual capability, emotional regulation and probably emotions in general, and so on so forth begin to go as the person is slowly and utterly destroyed. A restoration spell cast upon them will reverse the damage done, delaying ceremorphosis - in theory indefinitely, but it will not destroy the tadpole. The tadpole is easy to kill, but incredibly difficult to locate as you'd have to go rooting through the brain looking for it which will almost definitely kill the host. Apparently a heal spell is required to cure the condition. Of course if you kill the host and the tadpole pre-ceremorphosis then resurrecting them will bring them back right as rain, tadpole free.

Assuming that doesn't happen: once the brain is gone, the host is dead, '[their] spirit seeks its fate in the Outer Planes' and the body is left to the parasite.

The illithid begins to rewrite the nervous system and physically edit the exterior of its new body (though not the interior organs). Interior function remains largely the same, but soft tissue is overwritten on a fundamental level to the point where it doesn't really count as humanoid tissue any longer. Within seven days you have the finished product. The skin turns mauve and begins to secrete mucus, the eyes sink into the skull and turn solid white throughout, fingers begin to meld together, webbing increases between digits, the human mouth is replaced with that of a lamprey's, and four tentacles are acquired.

Once the host is destroyed the only way to bring them back is the miracle spell: in other words you need to track down a very powerful cleric and convince them to give their god a call and ask for direct divine intervention to rewrite reality so that the ceremorphosis didn't happen. Mind flayers, being sapient beings with a patron deity, presumably have souls. Most illithid believe they don't have souls (or at least not ones beholden to a deity), and insist that Ilsensine and Maanzecorian are just 'ideals,' but the hubris ridden squids are hardly unbiased. The Illithiad talks about it like they do have souls.

The illithid may have picked up some residual memory from the host, a psionic echo of neurons now gone, though considering illithid and humanoid neurology and emotions are incompatible as hardware and programming these memories are going to mean little to them if anything, and mind flayers have no sentimental attachment to the host identity as a result.

You now have a neophyte: a newborn illithid is little more than a tentacled frog that suddenly gained a lot of processing power and a shiny new sapience. It has no innate knowledge of its needs or culture and hasn't fully developed its abilities or adjusted to its form and will need the guidance of its colony as it learns and 'grows up.'

At 21 years old they should be adult ilithid with fully mature psionic abilities and control of their bodies.

An illithid lives for about 135 years, at the end of which it has its brain removed and is thrown into the spawning pool from whence it came where its brain is eaten by the colony Elder Brain. Illithid believe that they will live on forever as part of a union of those who came before them. In truth the Brain just treats them exactly as they once treated their host and victims; by killing of their individuality and personality and stealing their memories and intelligence to empower itself. But kinda worse, because at least the tadpoles aren't intelligent enough to have morals.

Psychology:

It's often believed due to their lack of facial expressions and unfamiliar body language, as well as the flat effect of their 'voice' when communicating telepathically, that mind flayers have no emotions.

It's actually the exact opposite: mind flayers have all-consuming, overwhelming feelings at all times, carefully internalised.

A mind flayer's emotions are not directly equivalent to those of a humanoid in 'feel' (possibly due to a lack of brain and hormones?), though some can be compared for an idea of what they're like. From an outsider perspective the majority of these emotions would be viewed as 'negative.'

A mind flayer experiences fulfilment and positive emotion from a) eating brains and b) pursuing and satisfying their curiosities and taking pride in positive outcomes. Curiosity itself being a powerful drive for their kind, they're all usually studying something. Outside of those two activities nothing gives mind flayers 'happiness'/whatever their version of serotonin is. 'Fear,' 'envy,' and 'hate' are other manifestations of aggression, the same as with most sentient beings.

Another other primary mind flayer emotion is aggression, usually frustration. They are a very easily pissed off people, and the belief that they are the superior beings who should be guiding the world into a Lawful utopia of master (mind flayer) and thrall (everyone else) often leads them to be very grumpy when the world, most bizarrely, does not seem to be in step with their outlook.

Whether it's innate or conditioned (and at what stage the conditioning began, tadpole or illithid) is not clear, but it's described as an 'instinct' for illithid to believe they are inherently superior and all others are thralls and good. Oh boy, the hubris. On the plus side it can be overcome and unlearned.

Mind flayers need socialisation, in a sense. Being telepathic, hive mind-oriented beings they're known to panic when alone in their own heads (such as when being outside the range of their colony).

'Dominion is life' is a key philosophy; 'only through the domination of others can [one] actualise their inner desires, needs, and future goals.' Mind flayers on a base psychological level need a thrall as a kind of mirror and anchor of their identity, not so much for care of the person they're connected to but in order to project themselves onto a being they feel 'intimately' connected to. Being without thralls is traumatic, and mind flayers will usually drop everything to acquire more when they have none. Without thralls the mind flayer's emotional health is destroyed and they just downward spiral into depression and insanity. They will often 'die quietly' in this situation.

Creating a thrall is 'no small matter' and requires the efforts of the entire colony lending their psionic abilities to the one performing the process in order to bring them into the hive mind. The intended thrall is branded with their master's ID and conditioned with layers of psionic brainwashing in repeat sessions, completely erasing their personality and individuality and then reprograming them to suit their master's needs.

While we 'cattle' consider this horrific, mind flayers see this as an act of altruism. They genuinely believe that the 'lesser races' require their dominance for guidance to thrive. Those who are consumed are appreciated; an illithid grants the lesser races a boon by consuming them and briefly experiencing their existence, and the thrall race grants them their 'gifts.'

'Oh, most delicious morsel, perceive my appreciation of your unique gifts...' - A mind flayer, addressing its 'donor'

(Mind flayers that question any of these doctrines of how it's good for the 'lesser races' are subject to immediate execution.)

Illithid do not typically have such 'intimate' bonds with each other. While they are cooperative, mind flayers are highly individualistic and very competitive. While they're known to experience grief at the passing of their people, tentacled academics don't like to share their personal research with the other mad scientists.

They aren't incapable of being decent people.

'...there are some benevolent illithids, though these tend to be reclusive and well-hidden, or magically disguised into other shapes they “wear” almost all the time, just to avoid constant attacks or hostility from others who see their mind flayer bodies and react accordingly. At least one longterm-in-print “human” NPC of the Realms is actually one of these disguised illithids. - Ed Greenwood (I'm not sure who it is, NPCs aren't my forte)

'Rogue' illithid are those who - somehow - break free of an Elder Brain's borderline omnipotent dominion and reclaim their individuality. Some of them, often those with open minds who've lived long and experience many things, come to see mind flayer supremacy propaganda as nonsense and come to respect non-illithid as their equals on par with fellow illithid rather than thralls in the great plan of the universe.

Aside from the gith, the undead are the illithid's least favourite group of people in the universe. This has been downplayed as editions proceeded, but as walking corpses the undead have neither body temperature nor brain activity; This makes them effectively invisible to mind flayers who struggle to sense their presence, and worse, means that they cannot be controlled throwing a wrench in the 'we are the supreme beings' paradigm that informs the entire mind flayer propoganda machine. Mind flayers are absolutely fucking terrified of the undead to the point of psychological trauma, to quote the book, and when informed of undead sightings near their colonies the community will drop all activity to focus on getting rid of them. Preferably by organising a group of thralls trained to hunt them and sending them off to deal with the problem.

'To an illithid’s way of viewing things, it appears as if undead were created long, long ago just to thwart illithid dominance.'

To add insult to injury they're not edible, and if you tried to eat their brain it would be 'like eating a frozen pizza that's still frozen. Not the most uplifting experience.' Or so says Christopher Perkins. Ghouls and zombies on the other hand are probably fine eating their brains.

Physiology:

Mind flayers are warm blooded.

Tall, emaciated looking figures; While they're extremely powerful natural psionicists, in terms of physical prowess they're usually nothing to write home about.

Their tentacles range from 2-4 feet in full length, usually appearing shorter at rest. An illithid's tentacles are very responsive, almost always in motion in response to their inner thoughts and moods. They double as an extra set of arms, and possess the full strength of arms too.

Most internal anatomy, with the exception of the sex organs and any mammary glands, remains and functions much the same as it always has, save that each organ is now wired into the nervous system to a greater degree. Every single organ effectively becomes an auxillary brain - likely because a mind flayer doesn't have a true brain of its own - allowing an illithid greater information storage and processing capabilities. It also allows them an awareness of their internal anatomy rather like everybody else is aware of their external sensory anatomy.

Mind flayer skin is a vibrant mauve; The glands of the dermis are altered to secrete a lot of mucus in order to lock in moisture and keep that delicate amphibious skin covered in a film of slime - which smells of vanilla, onion and garlic. Without this protective covering, for example if lost to the drying effects of the sun or from disease, the mind flayer dehydrates and is at risk of death if not replenished. The mucus also does something unexplained that amplifies a mind flayer's psionic abilities and offers protection against harmful magic.

There's also been something about moulting that wasn't expanded on.

The index finger is lost, for some reason, leaving a mind flayer with three fingers and a thumb. These are tipped with long black 'claws' of cartilage, but despite looking threatening they're harmless. On the feet all but two toes are lost as webbing stretches between them to form flippers. Unsurprisingly for semi-aquatic beings, mind flayers are adept swimmers, though they can't breathe underwater and must surface for air.

Due to the shape of their mouth and the loss of a tongue and use of vocal chords due to ceremorphosis, illithid technically cannot verbalise and communicate exclusively via telepathy and body language (via tentacles). If forced they can shove one of their own tentacles down their throat and force it to function as a voice box and tongue (usually for spellcasting purposes). The sensation is horrible for the illithid and the sound is godawful for those listening to it, so everybody suffers together!

Senses:

The primary sense of an illithid is, naturally, their psionic abilities: primarily detect thoughts which they can use to track living beings around them and communicate.

The exterior remodelling has several effects. The nostrils are lost in favour of tentacles, meaning that an illithid must breathe through its mouth and has no olfactory sense.

Sight: Illithid eyes are covered in a pale film which screens out the light spectrum visible to human eyes, but does give allow them to see in infrared and track heat signatures. Or in 3.5e-onwards parlance due to jettisoning infravision as a concept: they can see perfectly in the dark, but struggle in lighted conditions and see not at all in full sunlight. Due to this lack of vision, illithid 'write' things using a psionic method called Qualith. While it is inscribed, the actual information it contains isn't in the writing it just beams into your brain at a touch.

Hearing: The outer ear is reduced to a barely noticeable ridge around the ear canal over the process of ceremorphosis, which reduces the illithid's auditory capabilities. They're reasonably good at telling what direction a sound is coming from, but struggle to tell sounds apart or pick apart various components within a sound.

Habitat:

As the sun blinds them and dries them out - which is greatly uncomfortable and a serious health risk - illithid absolutely despise the thing. A popular mind flayer rhetoric is that the damn thing should be blotted out. Not just the sun of Toril; the sun of every world across the planes.

They need dark, cool, damp moisture in their surroundings to survive and thrive.

For the time being mind flayers live the subterranean lifestyle, seeking out damp briny caves to make their homes in. Mind flayer collonies are often most at home in the very deepest levels of the Underdark.

Diet:

The downside of this reconstruction of the stolen host body is that the body loses its ability to produce hormones and enzymes - in order for a mind flayer's neurons and organs to function, it must take them from living beings (preferably humanoids). While they're infamous for eating brains, and the largest portion of their diet is brains - from which they can gain most of what they need - an illithid must actually consume a balanced diet of all organs found in the human body. The psionic energies within brains gives a boost to metabolism that allows illithid to effectively go without standard nutrition for the most part. A brain a month holds them over fine.

The brain doesn't need to be humanoid, it just needs to be 'nourishing' enough. Felids and canids and octopi should make a good meals.

However part of the pleasure of consuming a brain is in experiencing the memories of the victim, a sensation often shared with the rest of the colony, and animals rarely provide the same entertainment value. While illithid can get by on a brain a month, and can find more ethical options, the s majority wouldn't do that and eat far more than they need to simply for the pleasure it brings them. They also eat animal brains for snacks in between humanoid meals.

That said apparently 'many illithids over the years have forsaken eating human brains in favour of other diets, and working with human thoughts and memories in other ways.' The details of these diets have been written up somewhere but are currently behind NDAs (can't be given 'yet' was the phrasing).

While most find an illithid mouth scary, rest assured that mind flayers do not bite. Their mouths are too weak to break skin, let alone chew through flesh and bone: No, their tentacles secrete enzymes that dissolve through organic matter, allowing them to expose the organs (the illithid's own mucus protects their own flesh). The lamprey-like structure of the mouth allows them to latch onto the flesh and then they shove their tentacles into the cavity, move the dissolving organ mush into their mouth and eat it.

Reproduction:

Ceremorphosis also edits the reproductive organs. The host's mammalian sexual characteristics disappear as they are altered for illithid use.

Illithid are hermaphrodites and oviparous, every illithid will - on two or three occasions in its life - lay eggs in the colony brine pool. Lore does not go into mind flayer mating practices, so how these eggs are fertilised is not covered. Possibly they self-fertilise. It's also possible that it takes two to tadpole: it could be done in the style of fish, where one lays the eggs and another fertilises them, but considering they're amphibians with a mammalian base structure it's not out of the question that mind flayers fuck. Especially on Toril. It's also not explained why two/three times; if they have a libido at all, or if they go into heat three times in their life, or if the colony simply has a roster that decides who is on breeding duties and when...

Their reproductive system, for those found on Toril, is also apparently compatible with humanoid systems and can produce half-illithid. It's the Forgotten Realms. Everything in this setting turns out to be horny when you dig deep enough.

Underdark assures us that 'most often' mind flayers impregnate humanoids with mad science rather than by 'direct mating.' 'Most often,' not accounting for the minority who decided to go at it the 'direct' way. I have no idea what illithid society thinks of mind flayers with these inclinations (I strongly suspect it's not approved of), nor do I have any hints as to how direct mating with illithid works.

[bloodlust-1]

The Consort ₊⁺જ⁀➴

NSWF | Explicit 18+ | Angst | Blood | Ascended Astarion | Spawn Tav | Dark | Smut | Trauma | Stockholm Syndrome | Violence

Ascended Astarion x fem Tav

Chapter: 7 | White Fox

Summary: In a tumultuous tale of love, power, and betrayal, Tav finds herself entangled in a complex relationship with Astarion, a heartless vampire lord who will stop at nothing to maintain control over his newfound spawn. As Tav witnesses Astarion’s transformation and descent into darkness, their love is put to the ultimate test amidst love triangles, drama, and the pursuit of world domination. Redemption seems like an elusive goal while Tav grapples with the realization of who her lover has truly become.

UPDATED EVERY MONDAY.

Notes: I love posting these chapters, it makes me so excited like I'm hiding the world's biggest secret x')

AO3 LINK | MASTER LIST

Lovely photo by @astarionposting

The sound of Baldur’s Gate bustle fading into the distance. Tav was silent, her fingers absentmindedly playing with one of her locs as they strolled along the rugged path.

Ross peaked his eyes to the side from time to time - studying Tav's demeanor and body language. She seemed...anxious.

“Why did you come to Baldur’s Gate?” Ross broke the silence. He was both curious and intrigued.

Tav looked up, a half smile crossing her features, “Well...I was forced against my will to be mentally pregnant with a tadpole and I had no choice but to come to Baldur's Gate, of course."

Ross rolled his eyes with a breathy chuckle. He shook his head with a smile, "Yeah, yeah, of course. I mean - I would love to hear your alternative story."

Getting vulnerable with Ross was already a line Tav crossed, "I came to the city to escape some personal things back home…" She paused, a tree's shadow passing over her face as she continued, “That’s when I got captured by the illithids.”

"Well it sounds like you have really good luck." Ross chuckled sarcastically and Tav joined him, shrugging at his jokes.

Tav folded her arms and stared down at her feet, cursing herself in her head.

Stop trauma dumping, don't be stupid.

Tav collected herself, carefully reevaluating her words with Ross, “I just needed to be on my own.”

An outcast who desperately wanted security. It all made sense to Ross now.

The way Tav completely acted on her emotions and confided in him; not even knowing each other for long.

He listened carefully to her words, nodding his head ever so often. And he noticed the way she'd hesitate between words as if she was debating on holding back or not.

She didn't know whether this was okay or not.

To be open and honest after Astarion.

"I know the feeling. So, you're not alone." With a shrug, Ross's eyes trailed up to the canopy of trees above their heads, admiring the scenery. Glimmers of moonlight peeked threw the trees and landed perfectly on them.

Tav hugged herself and swayed side to side drunkenly, pure bliss on her face, "Ahh - I've missed this. Nature is so peaceful and calming, unlike this noisy city." She twirled herself, basking in the moonlight.

ROSS'S POV

"Oh, look at you, being one with nature and all. Next thing you know, you’ll be hugging a tree and telling me all about your newfound friends, the squirrels." With a sarcastic tone, his eyes twinkled mischievously.

Tav tilted her head in confusion for a moment before Ross’s joke finally registered in her mind. She shot him a playful glare and mustered an upside-down smile. “Ha, ha - very funny,” she mocked his laugh, nudging him softly with her elbow.

Who knew my night would turn so interesting.

Ross’s smirk widened as he continued to tease Tav. “You know, Tav, I think I should just bring the forest to you next time. Maybe plant a few trees in your backyard.”

Tav rolled her eyes at Ross’s antics. “Suuure, because that’s exactly the same as being surrounded by the real thing.” 

Ha. Cute.

Wait -

No, not cute.

Do not think like that.

Before he could open his mouth for another teasing comment, Tav halted, tilting her ear out with narrow eyes, "Shhh."

He stood still. listening.

The faint noise of rustling.

Ross reached for his back pocket knife, clutching the handle tightly with a strong stance.

Tav carefully stepped out of her shoes and closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath.

Ross stared at her with confusion, squinting his eyes and whispering at her, "What are you doing?" He was completely bewildered by her actions.

Who in their right mind would go barefoot on a wooded trail? Maybe she was some kind of forest hippie.

Tav gently shushed Ross again, opening her eyes to reveal the soft glow of magic. She hunched over before being smothered in a yellow glow, undergoing her wild shape right before Ross's eyes. The sight of her metamorphosis left him in complete awe and shock.

Ross stepped back with hesitation, his pupils dilating to the bright yellow light against the darkness.

His mouth practically hung open, dumbfounded.

No fucking way...

Tav took the form of a beautiful white fox with pale albino eyes, blinking silently in the stillness right at him. His heart sank. It's like those eyes pierced into his soul and he couldn't believe Tav was a druid.

Ross gazed down at the fox in admiration, unable to contain his excitement, “Holy shit...You’re a druid!”

Ross kneeled down slowly, reaching out his hand to touch the white fox. Her fur felt silky and thick, prickly at the ends. With a gentle nuzzle and a single nod, Tav gently brushed her muzzle against his fingers.

Ross smiled at Tav with a glint of amazement in his eyes.

“Amazing,” he murmured under his breath.

“I’ll let you hunt.” He stepped back, watching as the white fox darted off into the bushes, completely taken back from the sudden magic. Ross watch the silver fox rustle in the bushes.

Ross reached down, picked up her shoes, and walked along the trail, searching for Tav. It went silent for some time, and he had wondered where she ran off to.

His mind drifted off. He thought of his sister, Rosaline and her searing revenge on Astarion. Their younger brother was taken so long ago by this pale elf with white hair. Rosaline swore she'd never forget that face, and well - she didn't.

He recalled all those years of Rosaline studying their kind, vampires. He'd never seen his sister so invested with hatred, and she stopped at nothing.

Death always felt like a cruel joke to me

Losing his younger brother shattered his family in ways he couldn’t even begin to describe. The emptiness that consumed them was suffocating. Rosaline was so full of hate and remorse. Even till this day, she would never move on from their lost; she couldn’t accept his death.

Growing up as part of the Gur tribe of monster hunters, Ross knew him and his sister needed to protect their true identity. He could never be honest with Tav, even if he wanted to. He didn't want to betray his sister. His only family.

I need to be careful around Tav.

A deep inhale

and a soft exhale.

Ross’s heart pounded in his chest as a faint squeak echoed in his ears. His eyes darted to the direction of rustling in the woods.

He saw the fox, her piercing gaze locked onto him. In her mouth, she clutched a freshly caught brown hare, its blood staining the silver fur around her mouth. 

Tav dropped the hare As she slowly morphed back into her elf form, the animalistic features slowly melted away. Her hands, once clawed and rough, were now bare and soft against the dirt.

The straps of her shirt had fallen loose around her shoulders, revealing her bare skin. The moonlight glowed against her dark licorice skin, twinkling in all her high points. The once neatly style locs of hair was now slightly tousled over her face, leaving Ross in awe.

unable to look away from the softness of her skin, his mind raced faster than his heart and the breath caught in his Adam's apple. The sight of her was almost surreal, like something out of a dream.

Suddenly, Tav’s eyes fluttered open, meeting his gaze. Her eyes was filled with a gentleness that took Ross’s breath away. Her lips stained in the blood of the hare, leaving a trail of red that ran down her chin.

Those eerie pearl eyes with parted lips to catch her breath.

It was both terrifying and mesmerizing.

This was a side of her that he had never seen before, and yet it was one that he couldn’t help but be drawn to.

Despite the gruesome scene before him, there was a sense of peace and contentment. And as he watched her lay there, gently catching her breath and coming back to herself, he knew he was fucked.

*BADUMP*

Her lips moved, but the air went silent for him. He couldn't hear, not when his mind was so loud. She's so...pretty.

….

…

..

.

*BADUMP*

….

…

..

.

Tav tilted her head, "Ross...?"

*BADUMP*

….

…

..

.

He blinked aimlessly and shook his head softly, “Huh?”

His cheeks flushed slightly as he averted his gaze, not wanting Tav to even get a glance of him caught off guard.

Feeling a sudden warmth in his cheeks, Ross cleared his throat and gently pointed out, “Your straps… they’re falling a bit.”

He tried to keep his tone casual in attempt to mask the slight embarrassment he felt at noticing such a detail. His heart raced, waiting for her response.

Tav gasped to herself out of embarrassment "Shit..", she reached up and adjusted her straps, pulling them back over her shoulders.

"Sorry about that,” she said apologetically, “You’re okay to look now.”

He didn't anticipate this, to be caught off guard by...Shoulders? Of all things.

I feel like one of those stupid little royal boys whose never seen a piece of skin.

What the fuck is wrong with me.

Stop it.

No.

Ross silently cursed himself for being so simple minded, kicking the rocks between his feet on the ground. Hoping Tav hadn't noticed the fever in his cheeks.

"This isn't going to be very pretty." Tav picked up the lifeless hare and brought it to her lips, "Im going to apologize now." She glanced at him with a slight sadness in her eyes before closing them.

Her fangs pierced into the hare, swallowing the fresh slick as Ross watched in silence. He noticed the way she hunched over, desperately drinking as if she was starving.

The survival instincts kicked in and Ross marveled at how truthful Tav was in her vampirism and animal nature.

Not everyone can accept what they've become.

Especially so openly.

END ROSS'S POV

The metallic tang of the blood filled her cheeks, sending a shiver of pleasure down her spine. With hunger gnawing at her insides, Tav savored the bittersweetness mixed with an earthy flavor.

The emptiness in her stomach was replaced by a comforting fullness. Tav then pulled away the drained hare, and she began to dig a shallow grave in the soft dirt beside her.

Gently, Tav placed the lifeless body into the shallow grave, covered it with dirt, and whispered a soft prayer to Silvanus.

Ross neatly placed her shoes in front of her and rubbed the top of her messy hair, "You forgot these back there earlier." He tried his best to uplift her mood.

She chuckled and smiled at him. Tav stood up, and wiped the remnants of blood from her lips with her forearm, smudging the blood across her cheek, "Thanks." She said, barely above a whisper while stepping back into her shoes.

A sigh escaped her lips as she gazed down at the makeshift grave and the smallest of what felt like ant bites started to prick her skin.

"Tav.." Ross stared at the sky, the light glimpse of orange painted on the horizon, "You need to get out of here." a small cold sweat ran down his back.

His expression faded into concern, "I'll find you another night."

Another night?

Not so sure about that.

I don't think that'd be a good idea. I've already done too much today.

Tav somberly shook her head no, the smell of metallic still potent on her lips, "Thank you for your company...I - appreciate it."

And with that, she wild-shaped back into the silver fox. Only then she would be fast enough to make it back home before the day broke again.

Ross watched the fox run out of the woods, leaving him completely lonely in his own silence. The sad look in her eyes made his stomach turn and he just didn't trust what would happen next.

For better or for worse, Ross wanted nothing more than peace.

But at what cost?

~

Ross got home, they lived in a small apartment attached to many others. Though the siblings seemed very well put together and clean, they were pretty middle class.

A couple of coin would be nice though.

Not like Tav or Astarion, they lived in a beautiful palace. Dark and depressing looking but still beautiful nonetheless.

Ross settled a small pouch of coins onto an unstable wooden table, it made a jingle noise that got the attention of Rosaline.

She sat in the corner of the room, jotting down profusely in an old leather journal. Her head jolted up by the noise and she recoiled back, “That’s all you got tonight?”

Ross shrugged, “Stealing isn’t always as easy as you think.” He took off his shirt and tossed it to the side of the room, “Besides this should be enough to cover the rent for the next 2 months.”

Rosaline's eyes traveled to the thrown shirt, glaring back at him in disapproval, “You better pick that up. Unlike you, I actually have manners for my roommate.”

“Oh, then I’ll be glad to add that I prefer a roommate who isn’t obsessed with vampires.” Ross leaned over, picking up the tossed shirt.

Rosaline narrowed her eyes at her brother, clearly irritated, “You know it’s more than that. Don’t fucking make me sound crazy.”

Nonchalantly, “Whatever.”

Ross opened a wooden drawer, dug for a shirt, and put it over his head. A small smile crept on his lips at the thought of recent events, unknowingly the flush in his cheeks warmed his face.

She lowered her journal and placed it beside the armrest of the chair. Rosaline glanced over at Ross, a faint smile playing on her lips. “What’s the stupid smile for?” she teased, raising an eyebrow.

“What?” he replied, slightly puzzled.

“You’re smiling. It’s weird,” Rosaline pointed out with amusement in her face.

Ross chuckled softly. “I didn’t notice,” he admitted with a hint of sheepishness in his voice.

He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to tame those mental images of Tav's loosened shirt.

Rosaline leaned back in her chair, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Met someone at that disgusting pub you keep going to?” She teased, taking a jab at his choice of hangout spot. “You know I hope they’re classier than that place, but considering they go there, they can’t be that fantastic.”

Ross quipped to her jab, “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

She rolled her eyes, “Just stay focused, I’m so close to getting his attention.”

The memory of Tav still lingered in his head. From her teary eyes to the bite marks on her neck. Ross's gaze simply landed on Rosaline, uneasy with information she probably would want to know.

In a soft voice, he questioned her, “How’s that going?”

“Decent, I think,” Rosaline replied thoughtfully. “I tried to proposition him to work together as business partners. I could bribe the writers for The Gazette, and get his name out there to the people.” She paused, a flicker of frustration crossing her features. “It’s so annoying that I have to play this role when I just want to stab him right in the heart every time I see him.”

Plainly with furrowed brows, "Mhm."

She snapped at him, hurt and anger in her eyes, “Can you act like you give a damn?”

His and Tav's interactions gnawed at him. And just as he tried to bite his tongue, the words came spilling out, “I may have seen someone...tonight.”

His sister paused, a glimmer of light reflected in her eyes, and there was a moment of fleeting silence.

“Who.”

Ross hesitated, glancing around aimlessly. Guilt and anxiousness knotted his stomach...

Shit.

“Remember that girl we saw Astarion with?” He raised an eyebrow, waiting for Rosaline to connect the dots.

She scuffed dismissively, “She's just an accessory, a mere shadow trailing behind him wherever he goes.”

A sense of urgency tainted his words as his voice dropped to a whisper, "…I saw her tonight."

"Continue."

"You're downplaying their relationship. It's deeper than we thought."

Rosaline simply nodded slowly. Ross avoided eye contact with her by averting his gaze. Her hands clenched tightly into fists and with glossed-over eyes, Rosaline glared at her brother with a burning intensity.

The tension was palpable as she took a deep breath and whispered softly to herself, “Interesting.”

"Tell me everything."

Next part here

Any thoughts? Comment 👇🏼 I love to engage!

Hi, hi 🫶🏼 hope everyone enjoyed their Easter!

Fun Fact: Any animal that Tav wild forms into is going to be albino :] It's a little quark since she has very pale eyes in elf form.

Following Tav and Ross (the TENTION) and ahhhh it's such a nail-biter because you KNOW shit is ganna get stickyyy! >-<

See ya next week to follow up Astarion and Tav after their big argument!

[modwyr]

related to your tags on the ask about not being able to resist becoming half-illithid if you'd been on a high tadpole diet in the first two acts (def agree with that) -

I've seen some takes about how unexpectedly dark it is that duke wyll sticks a mindflayer partner in the basement and how so and so is a better partner for being unconditional about their love and I'm just like. well. I think that's excellent thinking on his part actually. considering that he knows what happened to duke stelmane. and that the mindflayer who thralled her was the city's founder and greatest hero.

doesn't matter how much he loves you or that you saved his beloved city. you told him to take a title and now he has to do what's best for baldur's gate. which isn't love you if you're a worm.

yeah! like i think i've said this somewhere before so sorry for repeating myself but i think its the most interesting reaction to the player becoming a mindflayer in the game! like i understand having every character be disgusted or worried about the player's soul would probably put a downer on things but i think the fact that pretty much every other companion (afaik) is actually super fine with the player being a mindflayer is kinda weird? like part of me is just glad someone is having what i'd consider a pretty normal reaction (a bad one) given the events of the game

and especially since the player is the one that encourages/pushes wyll to become grand duke, like don't be shocked that he's taking his job seriously now and is making moves that are political rather than sweet and soft. you told him to do that! and 1000% agree given what we see of the emperor, and how wyll is probably one of the most antagonistic characters to the emperor, it makes perfect sense for him to do this.

[bruised-halo]

Fuck it

Here's more information about each of my completed Tavs/Durges so far (Besides Zephyra but I have a pretty good feel for her personality already because I'm almost to Act 2)

Nyx:

- Mephistopheles Tiefling - Folk Hero Background - Level 10 Arcane Trickster Rouge and Level 2 Fighter -

First ever Tav - She's loosely based off of my first DnD character from highschool. I say loosely because I cannot customize her to her full potential on PS5 because there are no mods just yet :(

Once I DO get the ability to do mods here in September(?) I will be remaking her to look more like she should

Lawful good for the most part

Pansexual

Romanced Spawn Astarion

I imagine that she had a rough childhood but decided to make the best of it

Would definitely sacrifice herself without any regrets if it came to that (Out of any of my current characters she is probably the most likely to willingly become a mindflayer to save her companions) - I think if I was to play her character again she absolutely would become a mindflayer to save her companions. Especially if Karlach tried to do it first (I didn't know you could bust out Orpheus at the time :( )

Scarlett:

- Zariel Teifling - Haunted One background - Level 12 Draconic Bloodline Sorcerer -

First ever Durge - was not redeemed

Chaotic Evil

Lesbian

Romanced Minthara

Very loyal to Bhaal

Scariest Bhaalspawn I have created so far. Like girl is absolutely ruthless

Definitely a narcissist and does not really give af about any of the companions except for Minthara.

Probably the strongest of my characters. She was absolutely slaughtering everyone she came into contact with

Became the absolute in Bhaal's name

Definitely a doomed from the beginning antagonist

Only character of mine that has willingly become half illithid

Lyssa:

- High Elf - Haunted One background - Level 12 Oath of Vengeance Paladin -

First redeemed Dark Urge character - I absolutely loved her dynamics

Chaotic good - an actual chaotic good. Like girl is goofy

Did not break her Oath :)

Bisexual and Polyamorous

Romanced Spawn Astarion and Halsin

Pre lobotomy Lyssa was definitely a menace but not entirely evil. Very conflicted tbh

She did have on and off again flings with Gortash for sure pre lobotomy

I believe she first became a Oath of Vengeance Paladin to get vengeance on whoever robbed her of her memories. Post Orin's death I believe she kept that Oath of Vengeance to continue to vanquish evil that would hurt innocents.

Views Jaheira as a motherly figure for her and cares for her deeply

Her Dream Guardian was her adoptive mother that she killed when the urges first manifested as a child (the guilt will live with her for the rest of her days)

Lillith:

- Seldarine Drow - Haunted One background - Level 12 Berserker Barbarian -

Redeemed Dark Urge

Neutral Good - mostly heroic but did do some questionable things

Silent but friendly type once she gets comfortable with someone

Demisexual

Romanced Gale

Pre lobotomy Lillith was probably evil asf. But to be fair it was the only thing she ever knew. Girl was most likely besties with Gortash. Maybe some romance? Who knows? But most likley

Fun fact about Lillith: The eye that her tattoo is on changes from Red to White to symbolize Bhaal's grip on her being broken post resurrection from Withers

When she was first resurrected, she wished she would have stayed dead because she thought she could never repent for the heinous actions she committed while being under Bhaal's influence

Gale is the first person she has ever felt truly safe with

Willow:

- Mephistopheles Tiefling - Haunted One background - Level 12 Archfey Warlock -

Chaotic neutral/chaotic evil depending on which ending she gets - She is my only Dark Urge character that could go either way

I prefer her redeemed ending bc girl is traumatized but the evil ending also makes sense for her

Queer - she does not give af about labels tbh

Romanced Gale

Pre lobotomy Willow killed her first love Ophelia during a Dark Urge episode - safe to say her dream guardian is a dead version of Ophelia

She definitely went off the rails post Ophelia's death. I believe this event was the main trigger that led to her becoming fully devoted to Bhaal. There's nothing worse than losing everything/one you cared about after all

Romantic but also very toxic relationship with Gortash. Out of all my Durges she is definitely the most likely to have been all over that greasy man LMAO. Girl was FERAL

She is the only Durge who does reject Bhaal but also has the opportunity to become the Absolute depending on the choices she makes in game

Her and Ophelia are tragic soulmates in EVERY lifetime. One of them will always die tragically by the others hands. There is no reality where they can both live together happily ( Angsty I know LMAO )

Ophelia:

- Human - Urchin Background - Level 12 Life Domain Cleric of Selûne -

True Lawful Good

Only exists in the alternate reality where she managed to get the upper hand on Willow in self-defense. Unfortunately Willow dies due to this

Definitely my bravest tav. She will run headfirst into anything if it means saving someone in need

LESBAINNNNN

Romanced Shadowheart

Definitely the more rational one between her and Willow. She was always trying to keep Willow out of trouble. She loved it though. The chaos as definitely fun at times

Before Willow's death, Ophelia was trying to make ends meet by any means necessary. She was an Orphan and had no one to rely on but herself. Hence the Urchin background.

After Willow died, Ophelia swore to repent for what she had to do by becoming a life domain Cleric of Selûne. It definitely helped her grieve. It also gave her a purpose and led her to becoming who she is

The enemies to lovers dynamic with Shadowheart is the BESTTTTT. I highly recommend Shadowheart x Selûnite tav

The ending she gets with Shadowheart is just what she deserves. Like poor girl had it ROUGH

Zephyra:

- Githyanki - Outlander background - Currently level 7 Paladin of Vengeance -

Chaotic good for sureeee

Bisexual

Previously had a fling with Astarion but is absolutely in LOVE with Lae'zel (she pretty much so always was but she was in denial)

She's a little less rough around the edges than Lae'zel (especially in the beginning when Lae'zel still doesn't trust anyone yet)

Also far more knowledgeable about Faerun than most other Githyanki due to her outlander background. She loved to explore far and wide before the mindflayer abduction

She's definitely a romantic at heart but doesn't want to admit it just yet

She swore her Oath of Vengeance after her best friend went missing and is presumed dead. She just wants to know what happened to her (Spoiler: Vlaakith Ascension ending 👀)

Her and Lae'zel are definitely mother's to the githyanki egg from the creche

Her relationship with Lae'zel is absolutely adorable. They definitely complete each other. Zephyra was the first person to ever show Lae'zel the importance and feeling of softness when it comes to love

[mongoose-bite]

I have found the best NPC. I love kobolds. Look at this stylish little guy! He's still got the weird dog nose they gave them for 5th edition but I am still delighted with him. I miss my kobold sorcerer. This is like seeing him for reals. Also, while I try to remain vague, there are spoilers unavoidable below. Shulkie don't read this.

So we finally get some answers regarding the prism. Now I know why it was confusing; there were multiple things inside. The only mystery now is why the Sharrans were after it. I tried very hard to kill the Emperor twice. Faye feels like eating the tadpole was the worst decision of her life, but eventually I took the hint and we still remain on its side.

Faye hates that manipulative thing, but I on the other hand am now pretty curious about a squid run. Ngl I always thought illithids were kind of hot, but my inner lorebeard was always 'no it would never make sense for them to fuck.' Thank you, Larian, for suggesting a way to reconcile these things. They're in that sweet spot between 'humans with a coat of paint' and 'what would even count as sex with a sentient rock half a mile across' where it's an interesting challenge, but you've got some places to start.

I, and Faye, still don't really believe its story, but there's no point accusing it of lying. So she humours it, but burned inspiration to keep herself from tadpoling further, and did not offer to hold its hand.

We arrive in Riverton and immediately I feel overwhelmed by the sheer number of NPCs chattering. I often don't like city areas in games. Too much going on. I got used to it after half an hour of mindlessly running around and eavesdropping.

Once we arrived in the city Faye started spending money like it was water; to be fair, I needed to gear up Jahira a bit, but a lot of it went on fucking around, metaphorically and literally, because while Faye would never have the nerve to take up the twins' offer by herself, Halsin had invited her out to the woods the night before, and he makes her adventurous, as long as he's with her. That did escalate quickly though, and then again when we went to the circus and aced the dryad quiz. Quicksave unnecessary. She has zero fashion sense and he doesn't see the need for clothes at all; they're fucking perfect for each other. They both project noble gravitas in public and are horny dorks in private. I am pleased with my pick.

What I think is interesting is the story Halsin tells you about his previous experiences with drow. Faye was just 'oh that's awful,' but Dyce would know the feeling. He's enthusiastically consented to things because his other options weren't that great. He'd get it, and probably reevaluate some things himself, which is frankly an impressive feat, because he doesn't do introspection much; these characters are so well-written. That experience might have been formative for Halsin, and feeds into how he approaches relationships, as much as he doesn't like the word. His 'feel free to make other people happy too,' would have Dyce all 'same hat!' as well, which was not something I expected from this character. Sluts with layers.

Speaking of bad options, I spent a good five minutes back and forthing on Raphael's offer before realising he'd told me where he kept Grabthar's Hammer, and luckily Faye was on the same wavelength. Have I also mentioned how much I love Laz'ael? Her 'why you make this difficult? But I think that's admirable' is adorable. Exchanging a queen for a prince feels like a sideways step rather than a forward one, but it proves she can move.

At the time it didn't occur to me that Raphael was talking about somewhere in the Hells, cause I am dumb, but I'm guessing one of his neighbours will sell him out, although who knows what she'll want in exchange.

Next stop, lower city.

[thewingedbaron]

Quiet Moments: the Devil and the Shadow

SPOILERS FOR ACT ONE

As the companions bed down for the night, preparing to scout the goblin camp in the morning, Tav (pictured above) finds a quiet moment to reflect on all that has happened over the past three days.

Spoliers beyond this point for Wyll and Shadowheart's backstories.

Tav sat by the fire, meticulously cleaning each piece of her new crossbow. It was a heavy, comfortable weight across her knees, unlike the flimsy bow she had rescued from the illithid nautiloid. The arms of the bow were beautiful, gilded gold with matching designs that ran the length of the body, and swirled into the trigger lever. As Tav polished it, she could feel the crossbow’s enchantments humm under her fingertips. At the end of the stock, someone had carefully carved the name of the beautiful weapon. Harold. A strange name for a crossbow, but who was she to argue with someone who could craft such a wonderfully deadly instrument. She would have saved those caravan guards a dozen times over just to shoot the thing. Now, it was hers. 

But even she had to admit, polishing the beautiful weapon was merely a distraction. 

Camp had been quiet all night. Even Karlach’s seemingly boundless energy had been subdued after Wyll’s “visitor” had appeared earlier in the night. The Blade of Frontiers had disappeared some time ago now, stating that he needed some time to reflect on his choices, and his new visage. Tav hoped he was alright. Their companions had done their best to cheer him before he left, but it was impossible for mere words to soften the blow Wyll had suffered tonight. The man had been dragged through each of the Hells, one after another, and come back with horns. Tav knew personally what it was like to live as “devil-spawn”. She knew the suspicious looks Wyll would receive from all sides, the distrust in every stranger’s face. There was a reason she preferred the dangers of the wilds over crowded cities. 

The soft scuffle of feet drew Tav from her thoughts. She was surprised to find Karlach towering over her, looking for all the world like she was a schoolgirl about to be punished for throwing her chalk at someone’s head. 

“Um, hi soldier. H-has Wyll come back yet?” Karlach asked, her eyes meeting Tav’s. She saw discomfort there, but also a strange kind of determination. 

“I haven’t seen him.” Tav replied with what she hoped was a sympathetic smile. “Wyll has a lot to process, I doubt we’ll see him until the morning.” That’s what I would do. Tav thought. 

“Do you know which way he went? Since you’re a ranger and stuff, I figured you can track things so you might…” 

“He was headed over the rise, last I saw.” Tav nodded toward a small corps of trees atop a small hill overlooking their camp. “I don’t think he would have gone too far from camp.” 

“Thanks soldier,” Karlach nodded several times, as if confirming the thought in her head. Tav watched her go, stepping quickly toward the trees after Wyll. For a moment, Tav almost called her back, insisting upon letting Wyll have his space. But she discarded the notion. Wyll could use a friend right now. She thought. This could be good for both of them to work through, together. 

“So… Wyll made a deal with the devil.” 

Tav barely managed to suppress her flinch of surprise as Shadowheart seemed to materialize out of the darkness. Even for one trained in stealth, and with highly attuned senses, honed from years of hunting some of nature’s deadliest creatures, the half-elf was impossible to keep track of especially without her heavy chainmail. Although that was hardly surprising for a cleric of Shar, Tav reflected. 

“So he did.” Tav replied, trying her best to keep her voice even despite her racing heart. “Though he really doesn’t seem the type.” 

“Oh? Know many warlocks, do you?” Shadowheart teased, making Tav’s heart flutter for an entirely unrelated reason. “What sets our dear friend Wyll apart from the rest?” 

“I’ve known a couple.” Hunted a couple too. Tav did not voice the thought. “Most make their pacts looking to gain power for themselves. Authority over others and such. Wyll’s different. He seems like he uses his pact for the good of all. He had a good heart.” 

“Like you. A good heart I mean.” Shadowheart flushed slightly. “Why do you insist on helping both the druids and the tieflings? It seems to me like Zevlor already gave us the perfect solution. Slip a knife between the snake’s ribs and we can be on our way.” 

“Killing Kahga outright wouldn’t be much of a solution.” Tav’s brow furrowed. “If we stick a knife in her back to help the refugees, it would only brew more resentment among the sympathetic druids. Many who might have supported the tieflings in their plight will turn on them, blaming them for the death of one of their own.” Even if I want to kill her for threatening that child. Tav dismissed the thought. “It’s better that we find Halsin, let him get his grove in order, and we can see about breaking up the goblin camp along the way. If the road is clear, there’s no need for Zevlor’s people to stay. Then, there’s no need for bloodshed.”

“Careful, Tav. One might begin to think you’re scared of a little bloodshed.” Shadowheart laughed. Tav realized she quite liked the sound. 

“Not scared of it, no.” She replied, patting the crossbow in her lap. “I simply prefer it on my own terms. What about you, Shadowheart? If you keeping helping people, some might not think you’re not such a scary priestess of Shar.” 

Tav knew the words were wrong the moment they left her mouth. Immediately, Shadowheart’s face fell, the laughter in her eyes draining in a moment. 

“No, perhaps not.” She muttered. “Goodnight, Tav.” 

Tav nodded, silently kicking herself as Shadowheart stalked back to her tent. With a frustrated sigh, Tav’s gaze returned to the flames, and for a moment she considered throwing herself into them. Why did it have to be so hard to get a read on her half-elven companion? What was she doing wrong? 

Yet neither the crackling flames, nor the hooting of a hunting owl seemed to hold any answers for her as Tav settled down to sleep.

[searaeberry]

After the Revival

Decade long lurker, first-time posting anything ever. Guys I'm losing my mind about this.

Many months ago now someone had posted about there not being any "Modern girl in Faerun" fanfics available. I dusted off my writer's gloves and spat out something that I find to be half decent. I don't have anything that I consider finished, and I don't know if I ever will. However I have put together what I consider to be a complete chapter in what amounts to a retelling of the events in game, and how they could be different if someone were dragged from our world into BG3.

I have fragments of other scenes written out, and if people like what I have maybe I'll post more in the future. For now, please enjoy my self-indulgent filthy fanfic.

After the Revival -

After being overwhelmed by a pack of gnolls, our hero wakes from death and faces the reality of how far from home they really are.

When I next opened my eyes I found Shadowheart sitting beside me, reading one of the many books I looted along our travels. I slowly sat upright in my bedroll.

"Welcome back." She said gently, setting the book aside. "How're you feeling."

I thought a moment, checking in with my body before nodding. "Like I died."

"Makes sense. You seem to be full of all sorts of surprises."

"Surprises are a lot of work... I suppose you'd like to ask me a bunch of questions?"

"You've been respectful of my history. Everyone agrees. We won't push you. Whatever you wish to tell us is up to you."

"Thank you." I sat quietly for a moment. "Honestly, I wasn't really sure if I was in another world, or just crazy. Where I come from, you don't just show up in a different plane of existence. You used to be locked up in a padded room for even suggesting such things."

"Makes sense why you wouldn't bring it up right away then."

I nodded. "I've just been trying to piece enough things together to pass as normal. I've been lucky, by surviving an Illithid kidnapping I've been given leniency." I gave a weak smile.

"A great many things would be forgiven given the circumstances." She returned my smile. "For what it's worth, you feel like the most normal person in this camp."

I laughed at that. "Thanks. I don't know what the social etiquette is, but I hope we can still be friends, despite my... otherworldliness."

"I would like that. Where you come from doesn't change the things you've done since your arrival. You still rescued me from that pod, you still brought all of us together, and you've still been helping everyone on your way. For better or for worse."

"It does seem to drive Astarion insane whenever I agree to help someone."

"I admit, even I would have passed up the tieflings in the grove. But watching you garner their goodwill, and see the smiles on the children's faces... It feels right."

"I'm glad someone said that out loud. I was worried that you hated everything I did for some reason.."

"We just questioned the choices you were making." She smiled, realizing how that sounds out loud. "What I mean to say is, you did a lot of unusual things. If you're not from this world, then a lot of things suddenly make sense."

"Like making friends with a Gith?" I teased.

"Like making friends with a Gith... I still don't like it. But she's proven useful."

"If it makes you feel better, I think she's said the exact same thing about you."

She shook her head. "I would rather not think about it today" She stood and dusted herself off. "Wyll and Gale both made food for the camp tonight. I thought they were going to fight over it, but they worked it out. I'll bring you some broth. Unless you'd like to join everyone by the fire?"

"That sounds lovely, but I really would like to just stay here for a while. Last time I saw everyone I tried to kill the guy that can bring people back from the dead."

"Broth it is. Coming right up." She smiled warmly and left my tent.

I felt incredibly grateful for her and pulled my blankets close. I felt exposed and vulnerable. Emotional too, and I really didn't want to deal with that right now. I felt weak and I felt hopeless. I pulled the blankets in even tighter. I was starting to spiral and I didn't know how to stop myself. My breathing started to hasten. I tried to slow it down, but it just made my chest hurt. Just as I was about to panic, I heard a small whine just outside my tent.

"Scratch?" I turned and caught his warm brown eyes. He gazed back at me with earnest. "I'm sorry boy, my potion has worn off. I can't understand you right now."

He still seemed to understand me however. Striding over, he gave my arm a heavy nudge and snorted. I smiled and started to pet him. Tears fell from my cheeks and eventually I pulled him into my lap and held him close. Running my fingers through his thick fur helped pull me back to reality. "You're a good boy, Scratch." He licked the tears off my face and I pulled away with a laugh.

"Gods, you just let him into your tent?"

My head snapped up to see Shadowheart's disgusted look. "Scratch needed a hug." I gave him a little squeeze and smiled at Shadowheart, aware of how pitiful my lie was.

"Well, I brought you a bowl. There's more than just broth if you're properly hungry. I'll just leave it here if you don't mind."

"Thank you, Shadowheart." I smiled at her, and even Scratch gave a little woof of approval.

She paused, but the corners of her mouth turned up just the slightest bit. "I'll leave you to it."

I ate with Scratch stretched out across my lap. I was overwhelmed and my chest was tight. But so long as I could still fight, I would. Even if that meant being revived by a forgotten god in order to fight some more. I would see this through if for no other reason than because no one else deserved this fate.

I reached for the bowl and gave it a careful sip. It was delicious. I would have to give my thanks to the boys. I rubbed Scratch’s side while I sipped at the broth, feeling the warmth soothe my chest. I could hear the camp speak in hushed tones between bursts of what seemed like them pretending nothing was wrong. Once I finished the broth, I just sat quietly for a moment.

So I would see this through… That’s all well and good, but now I’ve made the choice, I had no idea how to proceed. I gave Scratch a pat and he moved off my lap. Carefully I peeked out of my tent, unsure if I was ready to face anyone yet. The moment I saw someone come into view I flinched. I pulled away feeling a pang of guilt, and looked around my tent. It was cozy enough, but I felt trapped. I rummaged through my pack and found a couple vials of ‘speak with animals’ I brewed myself. I wanted to see how my own skills were compared to the premade stuff I found. I threw a vial of it back and swallowed the grassy liquid. I winked at Scratch as I slipped on a pair of shoes and shimmied my way out from under the rear of my tent.

I wasn’t trying to sneak per se, but I wanted more time by myself. Time that seemed to be increasingly difficult to come by in recent days. So with the greatest amount of stealth my tired body could muster, I meandered down by the river. Many seasonal flowers were in bloom and with the blazing sun overhead, I thought for a moment I was in a painting. I smiled and started to carefully pick a variety of long-stemmed flowers. While I wasn’t in a real painting, I could admit the beauty of the world around me. I pressed a flower to my lips, the velvet petals tickling my skin as I inhaled its scent. It was unlike any flower I knew back at home, but its familiarity was welcome. I brushed my fingers over a fern-like leaf that belonged to a flower that reminded me of Queen Anne’s lace. To my surprise, my hand came back smelling like carrot, like it would from the flower back home. Maybe there was more home around me than I originally thought?

Resuming my flower picking, I let the nature around me fill my heart with something important to me: hope. I’ve heard people call hope many things. Dangerous, was the first that came to mind. I longed to ask them, ‘dangerous to whom?’ I slowly made my way closer to the water, sorting through the tangle of feelings in my head and heart. Things were both easier and more difficult now that I’ve died. I hadn’t expected to make it very far in this adventure, so revival means I’ll face greater challenges ahead. But it'll be easier because I already experienced the worst-case scenario. There is no worse consequence than death. That’s it. I’ve done the bad ending. Now to find the good one.

I sat on a rock facing the setting sun, eyes unfocused, ears tuned in to the babbling water and gentle rustling of leaves. I was still tired from my resurrection. I breathed the warm air deeply and wove the wild-flowers together into a small flower crown. It was cathartic to meditate on things while keeping the hands busy. An art that had taken years to learn for myself.

I was pulled from my thoughts when I heard footsteps behind me. I paused my weaving and smiled at the figure that approached me.

"I thought I might find you here." Gale said with some amount of relief in his voice. "Might I join you for a moment?"

I cleared the flowers from the spot beside me and gave it a gentle pat. "By all means."

"Ah. Thank you." He took the space beside me and sat quietly for a moment. He looked like he was still gathering his thoughts, so I gave him a moment. "How are you doing?"

"I am... exhausted." I gave a weak chuckle. "But in time, I'll be better. Just, maybe not today. I need to process a lot of things."

"I can only imagine. Dying is difficult for anyone. Let alone coming back from death when you aren't anticipating it." He inhaled slowly, and looked more hesitant than I had ever previously seen him. "I had been doing some thinking of my own. About my condition-"

"Oh!" I reached into my pocket and held out a necklace I had found before the gnoll attack. "I meant to give this to you earlier for that."

He gripped the hem of his robe and exhaled. "You quite literally died. Experienced your first resurrection. You would be forgiven for forgetting such things. Honestly, the fact that you died and you are still thinking about… not yourself." He eyed the necklace, reluctant to take it.

I placed it on his lap after he didn't grab it. "You need it. It's that simple."

"What I was trying to say... I think I'm a greater liability than I am an asset. You experienced, a frankly gruesome and horrible death, and I can't help but feel responsible for that. If I hadn't faltered in that moment, if you hadn't needed to step in-"

"Gale… first off, look at me."

It took a moment, but he relented. Guilt and strife clear in his brown eyes.

"Speaking as the person who died the very fiery and horrible death, I don't have any regrets. As for you being a liability, that moment could possibly be the worst example you could provide. It was your spell that pushed enough of them away to let everyone get to safety. If it weren't for you, more of us would have fallen. Easily."

He looked away again, unable to hold my gaze anymore. "It is very kind of you to say that." He took the necklace from his lap and held it firmly in his fist.

"I don't say it to be kind. It's the truth. If you're thinking that you need to repent or something, or you think we'd be better off without you- well you'd better just stop. Everyone in this camp would be poorer with your absence. So, suck it up buttercup."

"Buttercup?" He looked incredulous.

I laughed. He smiled. "I don't have a locally equivalent phrase, I'm sorry."

"Well, thank you." He softened his grip on the necklace. "You truly aren't from here then?"

"No. As it happens, I am not." It was my turn to look away. I watched the water flow past rocks and reeds.

"Tell me about it. Where you're from, I mean."

"For starters, death is significantly more permanant than around here."

"I gathered that much from your rather recent reaction."

I looked away sheepishly. "Not my proudest moment. I already had a complicated relationship with death before ressurections were on the table..." I wasn't sure if I was ready to expand on the more personal details of my life just yet. "I could probably tell you about the part that would shock you the most." I offered.

"Try me." He looked so confident. Smug? Probably.

"Well for starters, there is no magic where I'm from."

I watched him pause for a second while he processed what I had just said. "At all?"

"None. Not even a little. Withers and all his grand destiny confirmed it."

"That can't be right. You're sure?"

I pursed my lips and nodded my head solemnly.

"Well, that explains… some things. No offense, mind you but- no magic at all? How does your society function? How do your gods do anything?"

I did this to myself. "You think that's wild? I'm not even certain my world has gods. And if we do, nothing like what you know."

His eyebrows furrowed deeply as he mulled over the information he was given. "I think this will have to be a conversation had over a course of several days. No magic? No gods? Yet you somehow seem perfectly normal-"

"Hey! Don't be rude." I laughed despite myself.

"Apologies." He gave me a sheepish grin.

"You can make it up to me by sticking around, yeah?"

"It's a deal." He looked down at the necklace I gave him, properly looking at it for the first time. "You hid your lack of magical knowledge well. A necklace of keen sight. Might be of more use to an archer than me?"

"It isn't better than what everyone's already using. Go on." I nudged his shoulder gently with mine.

"I really don't think I can thank you enough. You have the patience of a saint as far as I can tell; putting up with my condition, being thrown into an entirely new world, as well as being infected by mind flayers like the rest of us.” He chuckled, really seeing what I had been doing for the first time. "Just back from the dead and here you are, making flower crowns, ostensibly having a regular evening by the water."

"Careful, you inflate my ego anymore, my head will float away."

"Ah, well we can't have that now can we?" He paused for a moment. "You know, if you ever have need of a teacher, I am quite versed in all things arcane. I was never fond of the idea of teaching entry-level magics in the past, but I’ve never had such an unpredictable student before. Though I would probably have to rethink what defines 'entry-level' in your case. How much so called 'common knowledge' would be lost on you that we take for granted here?"

"It sounds like you've already made up your mind." I smiled to myself. Glad that he seems more focused on solving the problems right in front of himself than he is on leaving the camp out of guilt. I caught myself admiring him just a little bit before shaking my head. "Take your necklace already. I don't think Withers would appreciate it if you endangered yourself after just reviving me."

"Of course." He closed his fist around the necklace and a radiant light beamed from between his fingers. He winced and grasped his chest with his other hand. There was a flare of purple as the magic within him devoured the softer light of the necklace. The strain on his face didn’t lessen like it had the first time I watched him absorb a magical item. Even when the necklace crumbled to nothing his expression did not relax. "Something's not right," he muttered almost to himself before looking up at me. "Usually absorbing the weave of an enchanted item acts like a torrential downpour over a forest fire, soothing the discomfort. This is more like a gentle rain." He winced again. "This does not soothe."

I reached a hand to try and comfort him, but stopped short, unsure of how I could even help. "Was the necklace not potent enough?"

"I'm not sure, but I might need another item sooner rather than later."

I nodded my head. "Just let me know. I might have another one ready for the chopping block."

He chuckled despite himself, discomfort still clear on his face, that glimmer of guilt back in his eyes. With hesitance I reached my hand back out to him, and tentatively rested it on his shoulder. He closed his eyes to breathe and slowly, with each breath, his expression relaxed and softened. After a little while, he opened his eyes again.

"Better?" I asked, gently removing my hand from his shoulder.

"For now." He gave a curt nod.

I smiled wryly at him. "At least the vampire just needs a bit of blood every now and then, huh?"

He just shook his head and looked back at me. He looked like he was going to say something.

"Gale, I swear, if you thank me again I will vomit."

"I said nothing."

"You were thinking. Very loudly. It was deafening."

He held his hands up in a mock surrender. "Guilty as charged. Shall we at least return to camp before we lose what little daylight is left?"

I opened my mouth to tease him again, but paused in thought. He waited so patiently for me. “Actually. If you don’t mind, I’d like to sit out here for just a moment longer.”

“Whatever you need. Shall I leave you to your solitude or..?”

I felt his unspoken question and I found myself relieved by it. A feeling that admittedly caught me off guard. “I think I’d quite like a little company honestly. If you aren’t busy?”

“Ah, well, I’ve got a parasite nibbling away at my brain, a bottomless magic pit in my chest… But I might be able to squeeze you into my busy schedule.” Our back and forth made me laugh. It made me feel normal.

“Speaking of busy schedules,” he began to add. “I saw a glimpse of your work, connecting Jergal and Withers. Not even in this world a tenday and you have more notes than we have coin. It’s impressive to say the least.”

“Thanks. It started as homework to blend in, not give myself away as not being local. But then something I read kept nagging at my thoughts. I can’t even remember what it was anymore, yet I kept trying to put something together. I don’t think I really learned anything more than when I first woke up here, but I haven’t been able to shake the feeling that there's a bigger picture we're missing.”

“You think this Absolute cult is related.”

It wasn’t a question. “I can’t prove anything. But I learned a long time ago that if something seems convenient there’s usually a reason. In a world where gods are real? You’d have an easier time convincing me that I really did die and this entire world is in my head.”

“Admittedly, seeing everything we’ve come across written down, I find it difficult to argue coincidence. The only thing I would ask is, what is the correlation between the Absolute and Jergal?”

“That’s a puzzle piece I’m firmly missing.” I shook my head in temporary defeat. “Withers has motivation to keep me alive and fighting. The only people we’re actively fighting right now is a goblin hoard who have forsaken their god for the Absolute. That’s as far as I could get before this mess with the gnolls and the druids.”

“I had been so preoccupied with our infection, my affliction… Somehow I’ve missed everything you’ve been putting together all this time.”

“There was no reason to believe they were related. Besides, no conspiracy I might come up with is worth anything if we die from our immediate problems.”

“Let me help you put the rest of these pieces together. Please. You’ve shown yourself to be more than competent, but I would appreciate the honor of lending my own expertise.”

I gave the wizard a gentle smile. “Alright. I look forward to your help. It’ll be nice not having to keep track of everything in my head going forward.”

“Excellent. When would you like to start?”

“Perhaps we should head back to camp first? I feel ready now.”

“That’s probably for the best. You gave Shadowheart a fright when she couldn’t find you in your tent.”

“How did you know where to look for me then?”

“You always face water when you're lost in thought.”

It was so matter-of-fact that I was caught off-guard. Did I always look at the water while thinking? With a blink, I realized that I was in fact looking at the water now. Thinking. I shook my head to clear it while Gale got to his feet.

I gathered up my flowers and finished crowns. I was so preoccupied that I almost didn't see the hand extended out to me. I blinked and looked up at Gale who was already standing. "Thanks." I carefully accepted his hand and he helped me up.

"The absolute least I could do." 

I could feel the looming and overwhelming feeling of awkwardness growing inside of me. I took a relaxing breath. "I was thinking of stopping by the grove tomorrow. I thought some of the girls might like these. Maybe make them feel normal again. I also have a few tools I think will make Dammon feel like a smith again."

"Yes, he was quite floored to be working with wooden tools. The right woods themselves can be as hard as steel, but I'm not too certain that that is the kind of wood the druids have access to in this area."

"I'm also keen on invading some of Kahga's privacy this time around." I could feel his confused gaze boring a hole into my skull as I continued. "She's acting with a little more purpose than just ‘protecting’ the grove. It smells.” 

"Well, druids are known to want to be particularly close to nature..."

"No, different smell. She smells physically different than the others. Nettie, and the woman we spoke to outside. They smell like leaves and rain. Kahga smells more like... Cut mushrooms and prairie swamps."

"You don't trust her because she smells different than the other druids?"

“It's probably nothing, but I'd rather be wrong than proven right. She was willing to kill a scared little girl. She would have too."

"Fair point. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to at least look into the matter. Even I must admit that she is rather... Intense for a druid."

"I'm thinking Astarion will be the best to snoop around while we talk to the other druids in the cove. Shadowheart will have to stay outside of course... But that admittedly works in our favor. Wyll is absolutely against showing his face around anyone from the grove since Mizora's visit and Lae'zel continues to pick fights with anyone who moves. Just letting her speak to that one tiefling I thought he'd die of fright."

"And you called my thinking deafening."

The warming glow of the campfire welcomed us once we made it back to camp. "It isn't my fault everyone has gone along with the random shit I've suggested. Honestly,  I'm surprised any of you considered the things I would say. Now moreso."

"You have the most unbiased opinions here out of all of us. If anything we might be more inclined to heed your thoughts now than when we thought you were from a different region." Gale mused.

"It explains why she's so damn weird compared to the rest of our eclectic group." Astorion chimed in from behind us. "What's this I heard about me snooping around? You know I'm not just some common thief in the night."

I spun to meet his gaze. I didn't even pretend that I heard his approach. "No, you're just some common night stalker." I sing-songed.

His hand moved to his chest dramatically. "Words wound you know."

I rolled my eyes. "As if you're upset about stealing from the druids."

"Oh, I'm not. I just can't believe you'd call me, of all people, common."

"Mm, he's got a point there." Gale acquiesced. "Calling Astarion common is offensive to all the other perfectly normal vampire spawn."

"Now you're just being rude."

"Happy to help." Gale grinned at the elf.

"Alright, boys. Play nice. Astarion, we already know you're fabulous."

"Thank you. It's just nice to be recognized." He snubbed Gale, who just rolled his eyes in response.

I sighed, already feeling my exhaustion returning. "Look... I'm going to eat something and go to bed. We can talk details in the morning."

"A fine idea. You should be focused on your recovery after your resurrection after all."

I smiled softly at Gale. Was that an eye roll from Astarion? I looked at the two of them warily. "Don't make me get Karlach..."

They both took half a step back. I nodded to myself and started to walk away from them, calling Scratch to give him pets. I couldn't help but overhear their bickering.

"Suck up." Said Astarion.

"Charlatan." Gale retorted.

I just smooshed Scratch's face and rubbed his ears while speaking quietly to him. "I think these guys are going to be why I go crazy. You're the only truly reliable one around here." I cooed while he leaned into my hands with a happy groan. I smiled warmly, wondering if the 'speak with animals' potion I tried brewing myself actually worked. I was too busy brooding to talk to any animals.

I paused my pets for Scratch and he gave a mighty shake. "Of course I'm the most reliable one here. I thought that was obvious."

I laughed. "Yes. Yes you are Scratch. I will never doubt you." I kissed his soft little head. "Let's get something to eat."

With a bark of enthusiasm he led the way to the pot of stew that was waiting. If the broth I had earlier was any indication of what was to come, I was more than excited. Wyll handed me a bowl and gave Scratch an affectionate pat. I sat with both Wyll and Karlach, even Lae'zel joined us. When she thought no one was watching, I watched miss grumpy Gith herself sneak Scratch a piece of beef, whispering to him how he has to be strong to protect the weaklings around them. Shadowheart wandered over, complaining about how Scratch was eating with us like he was some kind of person. Lae'zel was about to retort when Karlach spoke up first about how she'll keep him over by her side. Shadowheart huffed taking a seat beside me, accepting her own bowl. Astarion wandered by, with a goblet of what I assumed was actually blood and not wine, complaining about how noisy we were all being. Gale remarked how it wasn't like we were hiding from anything and that some liveliness was a good thing. I hadn't seen when he joined us around the fire. Wyll started to talk about a time when he was adventuring alone and did have to hide from some horrible monster. I heard a few groans. But I smiled, taking a bite of my stew. That's when I realized something for the first time since waking up on that awful ship. This could be home.

[faize-art]

AFTERWARD: OF SWORD & SHIELD (Ch. 2)

Previous Chapter

As you enter the location Withers had provided you with for the reunion party, you find yourself familiar with the area.

“There you are.” Shadowheart greets you with an unexpected hug. “I was wondering if you were ever going to show up. Ah—and it looks like you do know how to dress up when you feel like it.”

You hug her back. Her hug is tight and comforting as the both of you stand near the water’s edge.

This is where it all began. You recall. Where Lae’zel, Gale, Shadowheart, Astarion, and you first camped out in the wilderness together between Roadside Cliffs and Emerald Grove.

“I’m a busy mind flayer,” you half-joke with her as you let go of each other.

“I don’t doubt that.” She remarks with a giggle and a bright smile. “Hm. You feel more…supple.”

“And you look good too,” you compliment her back.

“I know.” She smiles confidently. “It sure beats having to scavenge for food. Ugh. I remember nights when we barely had anything to scrape by with.”

“…” You reflect on her comment. Your memory of the camp supplies growing scarce a rare occurrence since you made it a priority to stockpile on the daily.

“So, tell me, what have you been up to? Still adventuring?”

You observe Shadowheart for a second. She is genuinely content with her life, and that notion gives you a sense of untroubled joy for her.

“The Emperor and I have been busy making plans, and it has been proving itself promising,” you say without further explanation.

Her face contorts a bit. An expected expression of concern, doubt, and happiness mixed into one.

“As long as this Grand Plan doesn’t involve innocent mass murder or tadpoles, I’ll leave you two to it,” she says in a teasing manner.

“And you? What have you been up to?” You ask.

“Mostly adventuring myself. Though, I do not know if I would call myself a full-out Selûne follower yet,” she pauses for a moment and then resumes. “But I’m willing to find out.”

“Will you become Selûne rhetoric?”

“Oh gods, no. I don’t know how you were able to put up with all that.”

“It was manageable.”

She laughs at your response and then says, “I know my parents were devoted followers of Selûne. With Shar…I was never given the chance to choose. At least this time around, I have a choice and can pave my own path even without my past memories.”

“Your parents will be proud of you, Shadowheart.”

She smiles softly at you. Her fond memories of adventuring alongside you sentimental. And the single kiss the two of you shared beneath the dark skies that night with a bottle of vintage wine poured into your brass goblets, unforgettable. “Thank you, Tav. That means a lot. Now, don’t let me stop you from catching up with everyone else. I’m sure they all want to catch up as well. I will see you around.”

You hug each other again, and then you wander away from the moonlit water’s edge to the blazing bonfire lighting up the night sky where Wyll happily danced.

After you had bid farewell to Wyll and his newfound mercenary life, you float to view the elaborate spread of savory dishes and fruit on the extended dining table.

No brains. You confirm. It seems Withers has somehow forgotten you are a mind flayer, or perhaps Withers intended there to be no brains at the party except for your friends. After all, a mind flayer only needs to consume an intelligent brain for its psionic energy biweekly—a brain once a week being a luxury for any privileged illithid.

“My heart.” A much older man’s voice stops you from viewing the spread.

“Halsin,” you greet him with a twinkle in your barely noticeable black-green irises.

“You would think someone of my vintage would be inured to the passage of time, yet these past six months have seemed endless without your company. But now our paths cross once more…” he poetically says in that sentimental druid fashion of his.

“Let me guess. Just as fate intended?” You lightly tease him in return.

His soft hazelnut eyes peer down at you with much glee. He cannot help himself from letting out a chuckle along with that familiar wide grin of his.

“Yes. Just as fate intended,” he sheepishly agrees. “I cannot help but idle on the times we all have spent together. It weighs me down and causes me to miss everyone…everything.”

You glance at Halsin with listening ears, his soothing voice playing like a comforting lullaby, and it makes you recall the first time you met within the prison cells of the goblin camp. Albeit you did not care for the old hunky druid in the beginning since you had too much on your mind—and in it. Yet, he had a way of gently rooting himself into your life like oak seedling and soil.

He looks handsome. Your wandering mind informs you. You subconsciously eye Halsin’s crisp attire he has on. His clothing of choice enhances his appeal. It is a fine combination.

“Ah. Forgive me if I am talking too much,” Halsin suddenly stops himself from engaging in speech any further. “I tend to have a habit of rambling nonstop, and oftentimes, I catch myself too late.”

“No, it’s okay,” you reassure him. “I like to listen to you talk. It is calming.”

He chuckles out of slight nervousness, smiling ever so gently your way. “I’m glad you see it that way.”

You smile back at him, your beady eyes squinting in endearment. “You seem…under. Perhaps you would like a hug to ease your discomfort?”

Without any hesitation, Halsin’s large arms pull you into an embrace. His body is tough, yet warm like an old hearth filled with undying flames prancing quietly about on a cool night, and his muscular arms that are wrapped around your much slimmer frame holds onto you tightly like a long-lost lover. You lean into each other with quiet sighs and closed eyes, seconds of this very moment fleeting by.

Hm? A strong sensation of safety mixed with arising lust and drunken love pulses through your cerebellum. You sense Halsin may have other intentions hidden from you, and as tempting as it may be to sexually probe his mind, you ignore it.

“Ah, there it is. That is what I have been missing,” he comments on with another sigh before you let go of each other.

“You aren’t afraid?” You ask.

“How can I be when I know you are my heart.”

His words melt you, and you chuckle lightly in thought. “I recall you have quite a few young wards to care for—nine wagons of them, wasn’t it?”

“Ah, my greatest purpose, and greatest reward. Those children have been through more than fate had any right to cast at them, and yet they go on, as resilient as anything in nature. I impart what knowledge I can to them, yet in truth they teach me far more. The land we save is theirs, and they will cherish it, I am sure. Thaniel and Oliver shall never want for friends ever again.”

“Is this the balance you were speaking about back then?”

“It is…but it also isn’t.”

“Why is that?”

Halsin explains to you in detail the downsides of his perceived vision, but it is thoroughly countered with how lush the fields are and how rapidly the population is rising in Reithwin Town and Moonrise. How, after the Shadow Curse was broken, the entirety of the landscape has changed dramatically and is barely recognizable now. He talks deeply and fondly about the children and how he nurtures and cares for them like they are his own, and it inspires you in your own illithid way of who you once were. If anything, you probably would have been happy being at Halsin’s side, too, if you did not turn.

“I will definitely have to pay Reithwin a visit,” you inform him.

“Yes, you should,” Halsin agrees. “In fact, I was thinking that you should visit whenever you please to. I do not see why we should only gather like this when we can meet more often. After all, my door is always open for you. All of you.”

“Thank you, Halsin.”

You embrace each other’s body again, and then he plants a kiss onto your forehead. Surprising you.

“Before you go, I have something for you—just a little keepsake, really.” He quickly reaches into his bag, pulling out an object. “Do you remember how I told you I like to whittle? I made this…”

In the palm of his large tan hand lay a wooden carved duck. The jagged strokes in its every curvature nicked with care and the details of its wings smooth.

Halsin once mentioned liking ducks…and honey. You dimly remember.

“Ducks are my favorite, but I thought they were particularly fitting in this case. They are migratory birds, of course, traveling far and wide with the turn of the seasons.” He hands the gift to you, and you carefully receive it, your fingertips grazing each other’s. “Yet they always find their way back to where they belong, just like old friends find themselves back in each other’s company.”

“It is lovely. Thank you for the thoughtful gift.”

“Uh-hum, yes. Now…do not let me hog you all to myself. The night is still young, and you still have plenty of friends to talk to. I will be here if you need anything, my treasure.”

You float away with the wooden duck in hand. A bit of ways away from the flickering bonfire, you sit down on a fallen log to admire the whittled masterpiece in your hand.

“Hey, it’s you, so you did show up!” A gleeful voice with many elongated tones in it welcomes you. “I wasn’t sure our withered old friend would live up to his promise, but here we are.”

“Good to see you, Astarion,” you greet him.

“Gods, did the old Druid make that for you? Pft. I didn’t think you were the sentimental type since you’re—well…you know,” he gestures at you with both arms swaying up and then down. “Sooo. How have you been darling? What have you been up to? At least I assume it is you in there. It’s a little hard to tell.”

You put Halsin's gift away and kindly smile at the pale elf. “The Emperor and I have been busy. I would indulge you with the details, but unfortunately, I cannot.”

“Well…that doesn’t sound ominous at all,” he awkwardly laughs it off.

“How are you faring? Not drunk on blood, are you?”

“Oh please,” he scoffs in a semi-haughty way, “I know how to control myself, dear. There’s no need to worry. Anyway, I have been doing…good, thank you.”

You do not pry into his mind, but you read his facial expressions and his body language. He isn’t lying. He is doing well.

“I am happy for you. Truly,” you wholeheartedly reply.

“As am I,” he remarks with bits of his sinister-like giggles mixed into his own self-realization. “You know, I’ve taken a turn as an adventurer and hero. And it turns out that no one actually cares about murder. So long as you murder the right people, no one cares. And apparently, I am rather good at it. Hah! Would you believe that?”

“Astarion, a hero? Who would have guessed?” You joke back.

“Darling, please. I am still me. Perhaps more ‘me’ than I have ever been. I also find the whole hero thing rather fun sometimes—not that it wasn’t fun when I was with the team.”

“Noted.”

“But you know, during these six months of simply trying to survive, I learned to embrace who I am. What I am. Part of that was learning to embrace the shadows instead of trying to run away from it. It’s funny, because at first, I thought I was trapped by the shadows and cursed to live in them forever. But in time, I realized that darkness is as much a part of me as my fangs are. After all, it is only a curse so long as I refuse to embrace the shadows. So, I decided I would.”

“Does that mean you don’t miss walking out in the sun anymore?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I still do miss it. And I don’t think I will ever stop trying to look for a cure, but learning to embrace what I am, and doing what I want to do and not what others want me to do has been life changing.”

A slight murmur to your heart ripples throughout your pale-mauve body, and a pulsing sensation of insuperable elation floods your entirety. You are happy. “Really. I am glad to see you happy with yourself, with your life. That is all I wish for, for you.”

Astarion smiles charmingly at you, his smile relaxed and filled with sentiment.

“Thank you darling,” he says with a sincere smile.

***

While Withers’ reunion party was pleasant, catching up with everyone was surprisingly and unexpectedly pleasing. You return to the Knights of the Shield at the break of dawn. The reason for your late arrival home was because there were no brains served at the party, or at least no dead and ready-to-be served brains to your avail.

With a turn of the key, the heavy and sturdy door unlocks itself, and you invite yourself into the main entrance of the guild's stone covered hall.

“Welcome back, Master Tav,” Nevine is quick to greet you, her body stripped of her usual medium armor and covered in lightweight loungewear, and her hefty greatsword lay at her side as she sits directly across the extended Main Hall table facing the main entrance door.

“Still awake?” You question her while locking the sturdy door and then sticking the key back into your pocket.

“I could not rest,” she gives you a curt reply after seeing you have returned home as your mind flayer self, covered mildly in blood.

“Judging from your response, you are agitated,” you point out.

“How can I not be when you have disappeared for longer than usual Master? I thought you would certainly be back by midnight. And by the gods, it is past twilight hours, and you return to your quarters a bloodied mess.”

You sigh. “You are worrying too much, Nevine. I can manage myself. I am not as feeble as you think. And this…this is but the blood of a criminal I stalked outside of the city.”

“But you are a mind flayer. Do you not worry about your own safety?”

“Of course, I do.”

“Yet you are as reckless as the Emperor, and I am stuck here worrying if you will return today or not,” she complains, her agitation turning into dejection.

You study her. Sense her. Feel her every thought that is deliberately spilling out. And then you apologize.

“I’m sorry,” you say. “Know that it is not intentional. I am simply busy. Please understand that much.”

Her fiery golden yellow eyes peer over at you harshly and then soften. “Yes. I know. I am trying to. I just cannot help but feel like a failure if I were to fail protecting you. What will I do then? Can you imagine the things the Emperor will smite onto us…to me? You are an irreplaceable asset.”

Nevine mildly reminded you of Karlach. They were not the same, but their passion for those they care for burned near the same. Although Karlach was no longer here amongst your former allies, you think of her often. How the rising yellow-orange hues of the morning sun had gradually risen above the reflective orange salt waters that day, and how she had groveled onto her armored rose red knees at the end of the dock huffing and breathing heavily with a hand on her chest before her mechanical heart finally gave out.

“I adore you,” she had said to you before bursting into cinders in front of everyone.

A sense of guilt begins to encumber you as Nevine’s golden yellow eyes weep over in your direction, and you find yourself perplexed about past grievances.

Perhaps you should have granted Karlach that final request she was so sure of and allowed her to become a mind flayer in your stead. If you did, she would still be here to this day, and Astarion and you would have worked out. Or, perhaps you should have ventured down to Avernus with her and fought alongside her for a cure or an upgraded fix just as she fought alongside you. Perhaps. Yet, you were selfish and took those options away from her.

You set aside your inner turmoil of feelings and straighten yourself out. Logic over any emotional outburst will help you maintain a sense of control and balance.

“Nevine my loyal confidant, if you are unable to sleep after an hour, let me know, and I will make you a vile of mild sleeping potion,” you chastise her before leaving the guild hall area. “Sleep is essential in order to properly operate the following day, and I do not wish ill on you…”

Nevine nods her head and then bows lightly. You can sense the sadness in her heart. Her loyalty to you is unceasing and one-sided, and her unsaid love for you unreciprocated.

***

You lay in bed with one hand clasped over the other. Your hands resting on your bare pale-mauve chest and your breathing calm and steady. Nevine’s harsh words from earlier loop in your brain as you gradually wake from your light slumber.

“Yet you are as reckless as the Emperor, and I am stuck here worrying if you will return today or not,” her voice repeats itself.

It dawns on you that you may be putting too much trust into the Emperor venturing out from the city to network. Then again. Why should you worry? You know the Emperor is capable, and he has managed fine so far.

But what if his luck runs out? You ponder. He was lucky and saved by Ansur the first time…and the second time he became enthralled, it was due to Gortash. Will he be lucky a third time if he were to encounter another Elder Brain?

You think back on Nevine's expression. How her fiery golden eyes wavered so passionately after saying those words to you. How she was trying her hardest not to burst into tears like a child even though she is a grown Tiefling.

Ah…I see. You acknowledge her standpoint. That must be how she views me in her eyes.

You chuckle to yourself in amusement. To Nevine, you are like another Emperor—self-preserving, freedom seeking, and relying on luck to survive in an Illithid shunned world; survival, independence, acceptance, and ambition being your core values. That is quite ironic. You comment on, knowing very well that you are merely another Nevine waiting on their Emperor to return home with trifling unease.

-

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[crossdressingdeath]

Ohhh you have me thinking about Durgetash with a mind flayer Durge now (au where Gortash lives or where Durge ceremorphs earlier or etc idk). Any thoughts? I want to say that Gortash would still love them (because I’m not sure anything COULD change that, Gortash being Mr “This Changes Nothing” after all) but I also don’t think their relationship could be normal. Not that they ever had a normal relationship before lol but you know, even LESS normal. Or maybe he would be totally pragmatic about it and even a bit excited about the potential the way Minthara is?

I am... honestly just in general not fond of the mind flayer ending. The idea of my character turning into a squid thing just kinda icks me out, I don't like it. Also it annoys me that the mind flayer ending gives you that fun little thing in the epilogue about struggling to contain your desire to eat your friends' brains and all redemption Durge gets is Jaheira bothering them about children like an elderly relative, Larian had the weird and fucked up origin and gave someone else the weird and fucked up epilogue dialogue options, what's with that. Also illithid transformation involves the tadpole eating your brain so by all rights whoever transforms should be fully dead with anything left of their personality just being an echo of the host's and the fact that no one seems all that bothered by the fact that whoever transforms on a very real level might not be the same person feels like a major cop-out. And it makes no goddamn sense that it's even necessary because we know of a good mind flayer who would for sure be willing to help out, why even introduce this one and only truly good mind flayer in the game with Omeluum and then make a big deal of it being in Baldur's Gate with the Iron Throne rescue sequence if you can't so much as suggest asking it to help with the one situation in this game where what you really need is a good mind flayer? I think if you rescued it from the Iron Throne you should've been able to ask it to help with the brain instead of siding with the Emperor or transforming a party member, but even without actually being able to ask it it feels really dumb that you can't even raise the possibility of asking it. I can understand the half-illithid thing (that one I only refuse to do because the concept is icky to me personally) but the full mind flayer ending just feels really forced to me, I don't know.

Anyway. Gortash should be fully against it (because everyone should be fully against it because if you become a mind flayer the tadpole eats your goddamn brain and whether or not you're even the same person or just an echo is in fact a huge question that everyone should be asking), but I guess since Larian apparently forgot about that bit he'd probably accept it. Since if you're fucking a demigod of murder them having tentacles and wanting to specifically eat your brain instead of just kill you now probably wouldn't be a deal-breaker. I don't think he'd like it, though.

[reduxulousoctopus]

At long last, here's part three of my rough outline for a Justice League DND AU. Sorry this took so long, a lot's been going on and I honestly kind of forgot about this odd little project for a while.

(An explanation of the AU's premise, previous chapters, and other related posts can be found under my dndcau tag)

Chapter Three

As they walk to the lord's guesthouse where it would actually make sense for a visiting nobleman to stay (I never said Cartier was staying in an inn shut up), Wally eagerly tells Diana everything he thinks she needs to know about life in the big city. They arrive to find two big bodyguards flanking the front gate. While trying and failing to bluff their way inside, it soon becomes clear that the bodyguards think their employer is still there. Diana bluntly informs them that "Cartier" is dead and was revealed to be an illithid in disguise, much to the surprise of the bodyguards. As one heads for the tavern to confirm their story, the other accompanies Wally and Diana inside to supervise while they conduct their search.

Wally finds an attache case containing several documents bearing Cartier's signature and the seal of the king, each authorizing the shipment of large quantities of building materials to several locations across the planet. Before they can do more than express how unusual that is, three more city guardsmen arrive. Though Wally acts friendly (if slightly nervous), it's clear that the other guardsmen don't like him very much. When Diana steps in to defend him from their bullying, one of them makes an inappropriate sexual comment about her. Understandably outraged, Diana threatens the offending man, which inadvertently gets Wally kicked off of the case and both of them forcibly removed from the premises.

Outside, Wally tries to calm Diana down with a bad joke. Coming from a society with no concept of policing, Diana struggles to understand what the city guards even are. Wally claims that it's their job to help and protect people, although he admits in an uncharacteristically somber voice that he's started to wonder lately whether or not that's actually true. Diana considers that for a moment, then comes to the conclusion that the city guards must have been replaced by Mind Flayers.

After noting that there are still several hours left before they'll be expected back at the tavern, Diana and Wally decide to search the Guard-Captain's office for evidence that he or anyone else in the force are secretly illithids--because "let's raid a police station by ourselves" is the kind of idea you get when you put the most impulsive party-members on a team together with no supervision.

Meanwhile, back at the tavern, the owner and a few more city guardsmen supervise while a group of workers dispose of the dead illithid and clean up the mess. Upstairs, John uses his arcane focus, a jade signet ring, to contact the other devotees of his patron. We get brief cameos from Katma the tiefling, Kilowog the giff, and Kyle the half-elf, but each of them are too busy with their own assignments to provide backup.

Next, he tries Eddore the plasmoid, who is currently on duty observing the magical artifact which allows their order to track anyone traveling through outer-space or between planes. At John's request, Eddore checks the records and confirms that, although the illithids on other planets have been 'unusually active,' there isn't any sign that they've been traveling to Toril, while the Mind Flayers already present remain deep in the Underdark.

Finally, John calls the hobgoblin archivist Arkkis, who provides him with a book containing their order's collected knowledge of Mind Flayers. John already knows most of it, but while skimming, he comes across a brief entry about the gith, a race formerly enslaved by the illithids. They won their freedom in a bloody uprising, only to split into two factions and nearly drive themselves to extinction over the course of a centuries-long civil war. The book mentions a theory that claims the conflict was prolonged by illithid agents, who wanted to keep the gith too distracted and disorganized to pursue vengeance against their former masters.

John is himself distracted from his research by a knock at the door. He answers to find a middle-aged female halfling, who asks if he's looking for information about Jallen Cartier. After John invites her in so they can talk privately, she tells him that her late husband, Edgar Reiss-Burrows, was Cartier's partner until their last expedition, which Edgar did not survive. Though Cartier claimed Edgar's death was the result of a land-slide, Mrs. Reiss-Burrows long suspected that her husband was actually murdered.

Lacking proof or motive, and knowing that Cartier would be protected from her accusations by his growing political influence, Mrs. Reiss-Burrows reluctantly let the issue go. However, she recently felt a strange urge to finally confront Cartier over what he did. She describes it like a voice in her head, promising that her husband's killer would be brought to justice as long as she got him to go to that specific tavern on that specific night. She's the person who wrote the mysterious message they found on the fake Cartier's body, though she lost her nerve when the time came for their meeting.

John thanks Mrs. Reiss-Burrows for the information, but asks why she decided to tell him instead of the city guards investigating downstairs. She thinks about it for a moment, then admits that she isn't sure anymore, even though she was absolutely certain just a few minutes ago that she had to tell "the man upstairs with glowing green eyes." John watches her go with a suspicious look on his face--beginning to realize, as Clark and Bruce did earlier, that someone is manipulating them all from behind the scenes.

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TO BE CONTINUED...