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blackjackkent · 8 months

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Owlbear Vignettes

At first, Buddy sticks very close to Hector in camp. Hector was the one who fed him first. Hector is kind, with a soft voice. Hector gives him scritches between the ears and murmurs blessings Buddy doesn't understand. Hector is not Mother, but Hector is safe.

The others take some getting used to.

-----

Karlach is not expecting it, the first night Buddy tries to sleep in the tent with them. She's half-asleep and at first only dimly aware of claws jabbing through her clothes, which meld unpleasantly with a dream of stinging sparks in the Hells. Her eyes flicker open - and then she jumps as she comes face to face with an owlbear beak. Buddy has nestled himself between her and Hector, curled into a floofed-up ball.

"Aw, hells. Hec--" she says sleepily.

"Mmph?" Hector answers. "Wha-- ack!" There's a sudden sputtering noise as he rolls over into a faceful of feathers.

"That."

She hears Hector laugh softly in the darkness. "Buddy, you can't sleep there." He nudges at the cub's flank; Buddy makes a soft noise of objection. "Come on, Bud."

Buddy gives a chirping whine but allows himself to be displaced so Hector can snuggle in against Karlach again. The cub considers the situation for a moment, then flops deliberately on Hector's other side, staring at Karlach the whole time as if daring her to say anything about it.

"I think I have competition," she tells Hector with a grin.

"You're way prettier than he is, don't worry," Hector mumbles into her shoulder.

-----

Gale makes a picture of a woman, but she has no smell. Buddy doesn't like that. It seems wrong.

Wyll emerges from his tent to the sound of Waterdhavian-accented oration at full volume.

"That is the goddess of magic, Buddy. That is Mystra herself!" Gale is lecturing the little beast, poking a finger into Buddy's face. "You cannot simply swipe a claw through her as if she were a mouse you'd caught unawares. That is a disrespect of the highest order and I would have thought you smart enough to know better."

Buddy listens attentively, his head cocked over to one side, occasionally chirping whenever Gale pauses for breath.

"I understand that you are an owlbear and therefore not privy to the mysteries of the Weave," the mage goes on. "But that does not exempt you from a certain level of basic decency towards the divine. I will thank you to remember this in future and improve your decorum."

Wyll grins, folding his arms as he watches this little display unfold. "Do you want to try it again with an animal speaking potion?"

Gale sighs. "No, no, never mind. He's just a beast after all, he can't really be expected to understand."

"I don't know," Wyll says mildly. "Perhaps he has the right of it. A protective instinct, if you will, given the target does want you to blow yourself up. I think he's not the only one in camp who would give her a swipe if they could."

"I'll thank you to keep your disrespect to yourself as well," Gale says dryly. His fingers flick through the air, conjuring a new, glowing image of his goddess.

Buddy swats a paw through her again at once.

-----

The githyanki is sharp like Mother's claws. She snaps when Buddy comes close, sniffs disdainfully when he scarfs down some of the camp supplies. He steers clear and watches her from a distance.

He understands how this works. She is one of the alphas. She must be brought a gift before she will accept him in the flock.

One night, Hector watches with bemusement as the cub, his whole expression screwed up with deep owlbear concentration, drags a large dead rabbit through the camp.

Catching Hector's gaze, he drops the rabbit and chirps softly, wandering in a slow circle around his prize. His feathers fluff up in a deliberate attempt to make himself look bigger, as if to steel himself for a great challenge. Then he grabs the rabbit again by the head, and in a single smooth motion, drags it into the tent where Lae'zel is currently sleeping.

There is a brief moment of silence, followed by a yell that echoes through the whole camp. Buddy, still poofed out in all directions, comes sailing through the tent flap, tumbling end over end and hitting the ground some distance away. The dead rabbit follows closely thereafter.

The next morning, Lae'zel acts as if nothing happens, but Hector does note with some surprise that she gives Buddy an absent pat on the head every time she walks past him. Later, she offers him a torn off scrap of the hunk of jerky she grabs for her evening meal.

"You're not holding his midnight visit against him, then?" Hector asks her.

"On the contrary," she says gravely. "The creature offered tribute to me as its jhe'stil, and showed bravery in doing so. It has earned the respect due a beast of combat."

"But you threw him out of the tent!"

She looks at him unblinkingly. "Yes."

Hector considers trying to understand this, and then decides not to bother.

-----

Shadowheart rarely comes close at first to either Buddy or Scratch. She is wary of them as beasts of the forest. Scratch says she is afraid of wolves. Buddy is NOT a wolf - but he is almost as big as one, so he thinks maybe it makes sense.

She often looks at him like she would like to pet him, though. A few times, she does drift near, and lays her hand gently between his ears on the soft feathers at the nape of his neck. And he sees a little smile tug at her lips - but then there is a flash of magic around her hand, and she winces or cries out in pain and draws away.

Many weeks on, deep in the Shadowlands, there is a great commotion one night - an explosion of light and crashing and roaring in the distance. Buddy watches with great interest, and some concern, as Hector returns to the camp with Karlach and Wyll, all of them covered in blood and slime. Shadowheart, equally battered, follows behind them at a distance, her eyes hollow and her face even paler than usual.

Buddy finds her in her tent later, staring at the wall in the darkness. He sits in the tent flap and chirps questioningly.

"No. Go away," she mutters. "I can't--"

She falls silent. He chirps again, scoots a little closer to her.

"It hurt so much..." she whispers. "All this time, all that pain... for a lie..."

She gives a sudden hoarse, humorless laugh. "There was never any wolf. D'you know that? There was never any wolf at all."

He gives a soft, whickering sort of noise and nudges his head cautiously against her hand. There is no flash of magic, no cry of pain. He does it again. Her fingers fist suddenly into his feathers, pulling him towards her.

He squawks, alarmed, then relaxes as she presses her face into the soft down of his back and sobs.

-----

Late one night, Astarion tracks a deer through the woods. They're difficulty prey, jumpy and skittish, but his steps are light, an almost inaudible tread. And they have quite a lot of blood in them. The hunger gnaws at his stomach and his red eyes gleam in the moonlight.

Just a little closer...

His boot knocks against an ill-placed stone, barely a rustle of sound but enough. The deer lifts its head and gives a keening cry, and bolts.

"Oh-- damn it," he mutters, straightening out of his crouched position. His fingers flex with undirected frustration and he leans heavily against a nearby tree. "Damn, damn, damn." What a feast that would have been... the local squirrel population has been decent, but deer is something else entirely. One of his favorites, second only to the kobolds and, of course, the one pure draught he got from Hector's throat...

His thoughts are interrupted by the sound of an animal squealing in abject pain, a ripping, tearing noise of wet meat - and then a soft chirp. He looks down, puzzled.

Buddy is sitting looking up at him with bright, wide eyes. His beak is coated in blood, and he bounces in an excited circle around Astarion's feet before guiding him through the foliage nearby. The deer sits sprawled on the mossy ground, its head bent at an odd angle.

"Huh." Astarion raises his eyebrows, examining the gory tableau. His stomach growls audibly at the glinting shine of wet blood at the deer's throat. "Not badly done. I didn't think I was in the market for a hunting partner, but perhaps we should work together more often."

Buddy wiggles all over with excitement and butts his head against Astarion's leg.

"Yes, yes, you're very cute. Now stay out of the way and let me drain this thing before you start looking tasty as well."

-------

"No!" Minsc bellows, looking down at the cub imperiously. "You will stand aside, beast; though your talons be very sharp and your beak to match, Minsc will bear each scratch before you shall lay one claw upon Boo!"

Buddy cowers back, his eyes very wide and all his feathers standing up, as the berserker towers over him. Boo sits atop Minsc's head and squeaks angrily down at the cub from his perch.

"Minsc!" Jaheira steps in between them, raising one hand before Minsc can speak again. "Calm yourself. I heard you all the way across the camp. What is the matter?"

"Minsc woke to find the little feather-beast eyeing Boo with the hungriest of eyes," Minsc says fiercely. "Does he think Boo a little snack to be feasted upon?!"

"No doubt," Jaheira says calmly, struggling not to smile; Minsc is obviously incensed, and yet there is something comical in seeing him stare down the little round ball of feathers with such ferocity. "For he is a beast of nature; why should he know otherwise?"

"Well, he shall not have him!"

"Peace." Jaheira crouches next to the owlbear, murmurs a spell under her breath; green light flares around her body. "Do you hear me, cub?" she murmurs.

Buddy goes very still; his feathers flatten out and he stares at her with wide eyes. "You... speak?" he whispers.

"With all the wisdom that nature gave me." She smiles, reaches out to scratch him under the chin. "You must leave the hamster alone. For he is Minsc's to protect, as you are Hector's."

The cub chirrups skeptically. "Rat. Tasty," he points out.

"There is no shortage of rats in the city," Jaheira says dryly. "We shall find you other meat. But you must promise to leave Boo in safety."

Buddy makes a soft grumbling noise. "All right. Promise," he mumbles.

Jaheira looks up at Minsc, her eyes glinting with amusement. "The bargain is made," she says soberly.

"Ah." Minsc brightens up at once and grins. "Good. Minsc did not want to kick such a little, cute butt, if there was any helping it."

Buddy trots along at Jaheira's side as she walks away; his sharp little eyes peer up at her excitedly. "You speak. New Mother?" he asks hopefully.

"Gods. No," Jaheira sputters. "I am no more your mother than I am Minsc's Wychlaran; where does everyone get these ideas?"

Buddy's ears turn down. "Just hoped."

She pauses, then smiles faintly. "I may not be your mother, cub, but I think you have a whole camp full of family. As creatures of the wilderness go, you have it made."

-----

Withers examines the cub closely as it creeps around the edge of the camp, watching him from the shadows. "I offer no threat to thee, little beast," the skeleton intones gravely. "Thou hast no need of secrecy."

Buddy chirps. Emerging from the shadows, he sits at Withers' feet, looking up at him.

Withers' expression does not shift. "Indeed," he murmurs. "A creature without mooring. Untethered and yet bound. A matter of luck... or of fate."

Buddy tips his head slowly to one side.

"Thou art a pillar, upon which is built the lever which shall move the world." The faintest hint of a smile twists the skeleton's lips. "And yet thou knowest it not. This is as it should be. By such truths does all remain in balance."

#bjk plays baldur's gate 3 #hector carlisle #owlbear cub #karlach #wyll ravengard #gale of waterdeep #lae'zel #shadowheart #astarion #bg3 drabble #bg3 fic #minsc #jaheira #withers #idk how good this is but i had a lot of fun writing it XD #drabble

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retromimic · 1 year

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re: Astarion's age (and others)

I made a random post last week about Astarion's age and I have been thinking about it since.

I also realized that we do have other characters we can use to have a better idea of timelines and stuff.

And by other characters I mean Jaheira and Halsin.

More under the cut, tl;dr at the end

Jaheira

Jaheira is from the first two Baldur's Gate games, which both take place over 100 years before BG3 (1368 and 1369, so 123 before BG3, which is in 1492).

She's a half-elf, who age pretty much the same as human, but live longer, so she probably was in her 20's or early 30's in the first games, which would make her about 150 years old in BG3. This makes sense with her appearance, as half-elves live for about 180 years.

Note: Based on appearance only, it's possible Jaheira was older in the first games, but considering they were released in 1998 and 2000, I highly doubt they made the hot half elf lady an actual middle-age woman lmao

Side note: Minsc

Minsc is a human and also from the first two games, but there is a canon reason why he's still alive and doesn't look like he got older like Jaheira did. iykyk

Halsin

He just straight up says he's 350 years old. He's an elf.

He also does look old, but not that old.

Shadowheart

We know she is at least 40 years old (but not much older), and she doesn't look too old. It's subjective but to me she looks like a human late 20's, early 30's (I do think she looks older than Jaheira did in the first two games, but graphic quality and time does affect that). She's a half-elf, so that also checks out.

Recap so far:

Half-elves:

Live for about 180 years

40's: young and soft

150's: Mommy™

Elves:

Live for a long time (in game: at least 350 years, in DnD lore: about 700 years)

350's: Daddy™

Now onto the baby

Astarion

The information can be conflicting, so I'll try to break it down.

The tombstone

This is where it gets complicated because not only is it hard to read, but also is kind of contradictory.

It's written in the Thorass alphabet.

The initial dates are the easiest to read:

229 - 268 DR

Which would mean he was 39 years old when he died. Which a lot of people find it a bit hard to believe considering he looks much older, especially if you compare him to Shadowheart, who's not only older, but also only a half-elf.

I'll come back to it later.

What makes the tombstone complicated is the date Astarion adds. They are hard to read, the first one is barely readable and the numbers 5, 6, 7 and 9 can be easily mistaken for one another when it's someone who just had the most emotional moment of his life carving it in stone with a dagger.

The general consensus from what I've seen has been that it's 498 and that the dates on the tombstone are omitting the 1 (so the dates would actually be 1229, 1268 and 1498 DR), or that Larian made a mistake and should have made the dates in NR, not DR (which would bring the dates to 1261 and 1300 for his birth/death)

Both options have flaws because of the date Astarion writes should either read 492 (omitting the 1) or 460 (NR instead of DR). Neither are really plausible because the last number really doesn't look neither like a 2 or a 0.

The first option would also mean that Astarion died 230 years ago, which we know is not true. A lot of things in-game (not just Astarion) confirms it.

The second option would place his death 192 years ago, which is the most plausible.

But then how to explain the error in the date he adds?

Either he fucked up and doesn't know what year it is.

Or the first number is actually a 2, and he wrote 268, which is the year he died. We'll go with this one.

So, conclusion? Astarion was 39 years old when he died, 192 years ago, making him now 231 years old.

Physical appearance

Now, onto his look.

As mentioned earlier, Astarion doesn't look like he's younger than 40-something half-elf, so some people think the tombstone might be reading 129, giving him an extra 100 years at death, which would make more sense, but there is clearly more than just one dot on that first number, and there is a more plausible reason for him looking so old:

Vampire spawn appeared as they did in life, though their features were hardened and appeared predatory.

Source: Forgotten Realms Wiki

Add to that nearly 200 years of torture? That would make a man look a couple decades older.

And it's not really hard to imagine he was 39 years old at death when you see him, mostly post-Cazador, with softer expressions. (There is posts about it on here, sorry I can't link)

There is one last argument against this, which is the fact that elves reach "adulthood" at around 100 yeas old, and that Astarion already had a job and everything when he died.

But that's really easy to explain;

Elves physically reach adulthood at the same rate as humans, but their concept of adulthood is different, which is why "socially" they are considered adults only much later.

But also, this is socially, and socially, Astarion grew up in Baldur's Gate, a multi-cultural city, so he didn't grow up with elven mentality. Him having a job at 39 years old is very much plausible.

SO.

TL;DR:

Astarion was still pretty much a child when he died at 39 years old, 192 years ago.

#bg3 #astarion #baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 talk #bg3 astarion #character analysis #astarion ancunin #idk about you but i find this even more tragic #someone else probably did this before but whatever #jaheira #halsin #shadowheart #sorry if there is errors I didn't proof read

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