#Isobel was also good

[zagreus-eats-your-bread]

Doctor Who will have 283,628,362,837,820,482 stories but still make you obsessed with a character who appears like once

[maegalkarven]

AU where Dark Urge didn't loose memories and the events in Moonrise Towers in act 2 went a tag differently. Or very differently.

Fucking everything up in a new, interesting way.

Characters: m!Dark Urge, Enver Gortash, Orin the Red, Ketheric Thorm, Isobel Thorm, Dame Aylin, Wyll Ravengard, Ulder Ravengard (mentioned), Karlach.

m!Dark Urge x Enver Gortash.

It was a stupid fucking plan from the very beginning of it.

To go to the Moonrise Towers to – what, confront Ketheric? Confront the Chosen of the God of the Dead?

Nemo knew better than the others what an idiotic idea it was.

But Nightsong already took a flight, and harpers moved to attack – and what was Nemo supposed to do?

He was a wreck, a shadow of his former self, weak as a kitten, clumsy as a newborn owlcub. He was the failed Chosen of Bhaal going to a place what was his demise.

Swooped by the currents of events unfolding, he had no plan.

But again, Nemo was never the plan guy; it was Gortash’s forte, it was his work. He was the brain of their plan, the brain of all of their operations. He thought things through as Nemo sliced around, creating chaos, bringing havoc, painting world in blood.

But it was before. Before Orin took her swing, before Nemo’s once great abilities were reduced to dust, before he became weak. So weak he had to depend on others, so weak he required, no, needed allies.

The voice of Father dull in his head; illithid parasite had to do something with it, had to change the rules the same way it changed them for Astarion.

Funny, before that whole mess Nemo would never put himself and a vampire spawn on the same page. But now? Oh, how alike they were, the spawns of unrelenting cruel force commanding their will, puppets of someone else’s play.

Waking up on nautiloid was akin to waking up from a fewer dream. The Urge...subsided. It was pushed back, held at bay. He was almost alone in his own head, more alone when he ever was with Father’s constant will moving his hands.

But what good did this free will do if he was about to die anyway, probably in the same damn place he died the first time? Would Orin be the one to slice through him one final time?

Nemo was never the one for plans, as clever as he was. Gortash always claimed it drove him mad, for Nemo had all the intellect, but rarely put it to good use.

“You have to exercise your mind the same way you train your body,” his unexpected ally would say. “Otherwise what use is it to you? You, my dear murderer, is capable of much greater things than your father foresees for you.”

These thoughts were atrocious, they were heretical, they were...compelling. Flattering, warming some deep corners of the soul Nemo didn’t know he had.

No wonder lordling ended up luring Nemo into his bed.

No wonder Orin saw her brother’s newfound weakness and used it against him.

Clever little thing, his slaughter-kin, to shift into Gortash to approach him. He was a fool to lower his defenses, of course he was.

He paid for it greatly.

“We’re moving down,” Isobel acknowledged. She, a daughter of a man who turned his back to two gods for her sake. She, the priestess of a goddess Ketheric Thorm forsaken. She, a child brave enough to confront her father.

Nemo hated her before he knew her.

He hated her for the way Ketheric turned the world upside down for her to live; he hated her for how ridiculously loved she was.

She hated her because even after being corrupted by Myrkul’s unholy powers, she still dared to stay unstained. Holy. Good.

He hated her so much his whole body hurt.

She who denied her father’s love, she who had love so selfless, so unconditional-

Father’s love was always conditional. Father’s love was always a leash and never a caress.

Father’s love hurt no matter how much Nemo craved it.

Oh, how he wished he could stifle the light of her life; oh how he wanted to see Ketheric’s face as he would tell him, in every gruesome detail, how his precious daughter died the second time.

How everything Ketheric did, everything he betrayed was for naught.

But Nemo was not what he used to be: he was weak, and Isobel was his advantage in a fight against her father. Her and Nightsong, but Nemo wasn’t even sure if aasimar was alive; the last he saw of her was when Elder Brain dragged the woman down.

Down, down, down-

Down they went.

Nemo didn’t want to go down there. He didn’t want to confront anyone, he wasn’t ready, he wasn’t strong, he-

He wanted to go home.

Home, such a strange concept it is.

Bhaal’s temple was never his home, even if it was the only shelter he has ever known.

No, home was...

Home was a mechanical clicking of devices operating in Gortash’s workshop. Home was the dim light and the huge table covered in papers; the smell of hot iron and smoke, and the man with fingers stained in ink.

The bitter bile rose up his throat at the thought of it.

The Chosen of Bane was never supposed to be his home.

The Chosen of Bane was his enemy.

Nemo has failed his life’s purpose in more ways than he could count.

And yet he wanted to go back; to the security of that place, to the delighted glint in the other man’s eyes, the mad plans, the notes on the table, the open books, the diagrams, the warmth of his skin as Nemo dragged Enver away from his work:

"Rest, you need to rest. It’s unbecoming of you to run yourself ragged like that. Sleep, your machines will not disappear overnight."

The way he struggled, tried to argue as exhaustion overtook his body. The way Lord Enver Gortash, the tyrant in the making, looked vulnerable in front of him in a way, Nemo suspected, he never looked in front of anyone else.

The way Nemo went to bed with him and expected to wake up in a pool of blood, but never did.

Because some part of him resisted Father even then. Some part of him claimed Enver Gortash for himself.

And it cost him greatly.

Nemo wondered if returning to Moonrise Towers could be classified as ‘coming home’.

He wondered if his home would meet him with windows shut and new lock on the door. He wondered how quickly he would be discarded by a man having no use for him anymore.

Turned out, Nemo was a fucking idiot.

***

It happens faster than it has any right to be; Ketheric spots Isobel, Wyll sees his father, Karlach lurches at Gortash, and Orin...

Orin steps away from the Elder Brain and smiles.

“My poor slaughter-kin,” she coos. “Came back so I could finish what I’ve started, did you not?”

And then the moves.

And fuck, Nemo forgot how fast she is, and he is so out of it, he is but a shell of his former self; his body is weak, feeble, damaged-

Orin knows it. Orin was the one who damaged it in the first place.

Nemo is vaguely aware of Isobel reaching out to Nightsong and freeing her from the bonds, he thinks he hears Gortash trying to reel Orin and Ketheric back in:

“Orin, we haven’t finished, the Brain didn’t receive command yet, come back here- Ketheric, two stones can’t hold it down, we need the third, Ketheric, forget about your daughter, come right here and make yourself useful for a change-“

But Ketheric doesn’t listen. Orin doesn’t listen. Everyone is too wrapped up in their own issues, their own grudges, their own fights. Karlach slices through the undead servant and knocks Gortash into the ground, only to be pushed back by a force of small explosive detonating right into her face. It doesn’t damage her much, but pushes back a significant amount.

“My poor brother,” Orin taints as Nemo tries to dodge one of her slices and comes out short. Blood oozes from the new cut and his murder-kin giggles. “So out of it, so pathetically weak. I did a good job on you, brother dear. But,” another smile, another attack. Nemo barely parries it in time. “I can do better. Father knows I can do better, Father knows you have failed him. He loves you no more, my failure of a brother. He has left you.”

Nemo would love to argue what Father went nowhere, what he still haunts Nemo’s every waking and dreaming moment, what the only thing stopping the God of Murder from consuming his wayward son is the illithid parasite in the bhaalspawn’s brain. But he doesn’t have the time, he doesn’t have the strength, he is failing, and-

The next strike to come is fatal.

Or it would be, if not for a huge tentacle of the brain to come flying out of nowhere.

Sending Orin flying right into the Morphic pool.

To the Brain.

With her stone.

Fuck.

Nemo turns around and meets a bewildered stare of Enver fucking Gortash, the man who just successfully compromised his own plan - their plan - beyond any recovery.

A fool.

Nemo’s blood is so loud in his ears he can barely hear; his heart is throwing itself against the cage of his ribs with a force unbeknown to him before.

He feels elevated, he feels scared, but most of all he feels-

“What the fuck did you do?” he snarls and everything, miraculously, stills. Everyone freezes, staring between them in a mix of surprise and dread.

Everyone feels what something just went very wrong.

“I-“ Enver starts, but Nemo gives him no chance to continue.

“You just threw the Netherstone to the Brain! The Netherstone we use to control the Brain! And you just threw it right at it,” there’s indignation burning in him but also...confusion?

Why? Why would Enver do something like that? Why would he compromise everything? Why would he-

“She was about to kill you,” Gortash seethes. “I saved your life.”

“By dooming everyone and everything in the process,” Nemo shouts back. “By dooming yourself. By the gods, Ketheric, did you see that? How he just- Ruined everything?”

“I did in fact see that,” Ketheric, who is pretty much being held down at the fire point, states. The only thing stopping Nightsong from murdering him here and now is Isobel’s hand on her shoulder. “It was a very stupid thing to do.”

Gortash looks appalled at that.

“I just saved his life!” he repeats like this fixes everything. Like it explains anything. There’s a mad look in his eyes, of a man who just realized what he has done. Then he turns to Nemo. “I saved your life, you ungrateful little-“

“Why?” comes out so quietly it’s barely a whisper.

At first Nemo thinks he asked that, the question was definitely on the tip of his tongue. But no, the voice belongs to Karlach. She rises from the ground, shaken but unhurt.

“I know you; you’re an awful fucking person who only cares for his own well-being. Why would you do something like that,” she gestures at Nemo and Nemo makes a face at her. He knows how he looks, thank you very much. “For him?”

Gortash opens his mouth, hesitates. His eyes dart to Nemo and Nemo meets his gaze with just as inquisitive expression as the one on Karlach’s face.

“Yes, Enver,” he agrees. “Why?”

But Enver never gets to answer, for in that precise moment the waters of the Morphic pool part and a figure crawls out.

A figure of a pale woman with even paler eyes, dressed in red.

Orin.

She takes a step, then another.

And something is wrong.

Her movements are unsteady; her head dangles as if she’s held up the strings and her eyes-

They’re vacant, her eyes, almost empty. They’re...peaceful, and Orin has never been peaceful in her entire damn life.

Nemo makes the involuntary step forward and is immediately held back by Wyll, who, gods only know how, managed to not only teleport his father right next to Karlach, but also come back to Nemo, and is now holding him firmly by the forearm.

“Don’t,” he whispers into Nemo’s ear. “This is not your sister.”

“Orin?” Nemo calls out regardless, because this is his sister. It has to be.

Orin raises her head and looks straight at him. Then she opens her mouth and speaks:

“Praise the Absolute.”

“By the Nine Hells,” Karlach curses. “She got tadpolled.”

“And she has the stone,” Ketheric is the first one to move, ripping himself out of Nightsong’s grip and stepping forward.

“Well, shit.”

An overwhelming, overbearing horror embraces Nemo.

Orin, his little sister. Orin, his murderer, his torturer.

Orin, the perfect slayer. The puppet of the Absolute.

“Maybe I can use the prism,” he starts. “I can bring her back to her senses.”

“And then what?” Wyll argues and it takes Nemo an embarrassingly long time to realize his friend has already started to pull him away. “She’ll try to kill us on her own volition and not the Brain’s? No.”

“We need to go,” Gortash speaks up. “Quickly, now.”

“There’s no ‘we,’”, Karlach argues. “And ‘we’ are not going anywhere with you.”

“Karlach, now is not the time to argue-“

“You sold me to Zariel-“

“Father?” Isobel calls out. “Father, what are you doing?”

Ketheric unsheathes his sword.

“Atoning,” he speaks. The moves to rip the Netherstone from his armor and throw it at Nemo. Nemo, surprisingly, manages to catch it. “Keep it safe,” the man orders and oh, is this his general voice now? “Keep her safe.”

Nemo doesn’t need to ask who he means by that. Instead he argues.

“I am a murderer, you know that, right?” as if any sane argument would work right now. “A murder incarnate. I do not keep people safe.”

“This time you will,” and this is why Ketheric was so feared and respected; a single hard stare pins Nemo to the ground. “Or I will come back and hunt you down to the end of Toriel. To the end of every known realm, if I have to.”

“Not to interrupt this fine and lovely conversation, but general,” Gortash looks just as puzzled as Nemo feels. “What are you doing again?”

The man has some strength enough to smirk.

“What I should have done long time ago,” he sends Isobel a long, sickeningly loving gaze. “The right thing. Isobel.”

“Father,” the girl’s chin trembles. “Father, I don’t-“

“I love you more than any god could understand,” the old general speaks. “And I will never regret bringing you back, never. But now,” he turns his gaze back and manages to parry the quick, efficient and entirely deadly strike of Bhaal’s unloved daughter. “You have to live. And I...I have to take a stand. Go,” he says. “Go,” he commands. “I will hold her back for as long as I can.”

“The undying against the slayer,” Gortash murmurs as he already sprints towards the elevated platform.

The ground shakes as the Brain breaks out of its bonds, bit by bit, slowly but surely. The wave of psionic energy what comes their way almost knocks them all down.

“Go,” Nemo shouts as he and Wyll teleport closer to the exit. Thank fuck for the teleportation spells. Thank fuck for Wyll.

Karlach all but carries dazed Ravengard away as Dame Aylin takes Isobel in her arms and takes flight.

“Go, go, go!” he repeats as a familiar hand grabs him by the shoulder. Nemo doesn’t have time to think, doesn’t have time to act as he is dragged the remaining way to the platform by no-one but the tyrant himself.

The moment Karlach reaches the platform Wyll hits the control panel and they start to rise. Nemo is afraid it is not fast enough.

From the height of their ascend he sees the undying general fight off the slayer. Two Chosen of Gods against each other.

Even from that far away it is clear Ketheric will fall.

He sacrificed himself. He brought them time.

Fool.

***

Down below the illithid colony, amidst the Hell of his own creation, general Ketheric Thorm receives one last, final blow.

Blood oozes out of his wounds, painting the floor red. Above him a woman dressed in red stands; eyes vacant, empty, soulless.

But it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters anymore.

Isobel is safe. And Ketheric...

“Melodia,” he whispers as the last breath leaves his body. “I am coming.”

Somehow he knows she is waiting for him; what she has always waited for him, no matter how far he strayed.

Ketheric Thorm dies peacefully. It feels like falling asleep.

[vanivanvanilla]

doodled some guys from all of us villains/all of our demise ^_^ might alter them a bit later but here's my current designs (alistair's curse design under cut)

in order: alistair, gavin, isobel, briony, finley, reid

he

[sankttealeaf]

was going to sleep but then my brain went "hey. dont worry. heres a fucked up durge/ketheric idea. good night" and now i cant stop thinking about it

[blackjackkent]

"Tsk'va!" Lae'zel shouts with dismay as the battle is joined. "Thorm can't die while Nightsong's still caged."

And indeed, at the far side of the platform where Ketheric has planted himself, there is a swirl of familiar magic. Aylin, recaptured on the rooftop, has been thrown back into her cage, the necromantic power dragging her immortality into the general's body.

Were Rakha more coherent at present, perhaps she would register this, but she has been in terrible pain and under terrible tension for several straight days. With the final opening of hostilities between herself and Ketheric at last, she barely notices Lae'zel's words, or anything besides her target.

She surges up onto the platform and into Ketheric's face with an explosion of fire out of the palms of her hands.

Lae'zel growls low in the back of her throat, flashing back suddenly to the first day she ever knew Rakha - another burst of fire as Rakha hurled herself at the mind flayer in the center of the nautiloid's bridge, leaving Lae'zel to dash for the control console.

"G'lyck... tas'ki, t'rac'shka... not again," she mutters, and vanishes, Misty Step-ing past the platform to appear at the Nightsong's side.

"Free me," growls the aasimar as Lae'zel shimmers into being next to her. "Set Dame Aylin free to wreak her bloody vengeance and set her boot upon the head of that accursed--"

"Yes, yes," Lae'zel says impatiently, grabbing the huge armored woman by the arm and yanking her free of the cage. "There is a line; you will have to get in it."

-----

Rakha pays very little heed to any of this. Her focus is only on Ketheric; she is dimly aware only that the fire of her spells takes root suddenly and begins to burn along Ketheric's flesh, through his hair. Minthara, at her side, is equally single-minded, her blade flashing out, clashing against the metal of the general's hammer, sending sparks flying along the platform. Behind them, Wyll's magic chews away at the mind flayers and intellect devourers that emerge, screaming in fury, from the room's shadowed corners.

"KETHERIC THORM! FACE ME!" bellows the Nightsong, climbing up to the platform at Lae'zel's side. Around her, a bright glow of icy moonlight flares, vaporizing several of the intellect devourers that swarm towards them.

Lae'zel can see Rakha's head swivel just a little at this - the only thing that can distract her from her vengeance, the touch of new magic flooding the battlefield. Something loosens in the half-orc's face, just for a moment and then with renewed energy she sends a bolt of lightning directly into Ketheric's eyes.

The battle grows faster, more hectic, terrifyingly chaotic. Between spells, Rakha briefly seems to vanish from the battlefield, followed by Minthara, followed by for a moment Lae'zel herself, her head swimming into a strange negative version of the world full of distant howls. For every blow they strike against Ketheric, he strikes back just as hard, glimmering blows of necromantically-infused divine smites that detonate like bombs.

And then... suddenly, stillness.

-----

Minthara's blade sinks deep into Ketheric's chest and he staggers. Putrid black blood pours out over her sword, over her wrist, steaming as it puddles on the rocky floor beneath him.

His eyebrows lift - a flash of fear, and then his face settles into cold mockery. "What a fool you are," he rasps, looking from Minthara to Rakha to the others at a greater distance. "You cannot kill me. I am eternal!"

With a wrenching motion he jerks backwards, pulling himself off of the blade, letting the blood pour in waves down his armor. He spreads his arms to both sides, looks up with a wild, maniacal gaze into the arching roof of the cavern.

"Myrkul! Lord of Bones!" he cries. There's a wet, bubbling liquid sound in his voice, but the words are clear, fervent, desperate. "I am here! I am ready!"

Rakha realizes what he is about to do, too late to stop it.

He lets himself fall backwards, down into the deep pit that sits at the center of the cavern, glowing with that pale green light that illuminates the brining pools.

She darts forward to the edge of the pit, her mind flaring for a moment with the beast's uncontrollable rage - how dare you deny me the final blow that splits your skull? how dare you deny this mad dog her teeth in your throat?

But he's gone. And as she peers down into that bottomless, glowing pit, a voice rings in her head. A new voice - not the Absolute, not the guardian, not the tadpole, not the beast, but something entirely new, basso and rumbling and full of icy malice.

"YOU DARE END ONE WHO BELONGS TO ME?"

Her head rings with it. Even the tadpole for a moment seems to cower as it clangs like a gong through her skull.

"I AM THE SMILE OF THE WORM-CLEANSED SKULL. I AM THE REGRETS OF THOSE WHO REMAIN, AND THE RESTLESSNESS OF THOSE WHO ARE GONE."

"I AM THE HAUNT OF MAUSOLEUMS, THE GOD OF GRAVES AND AGE, OF DUST AND DARK."

An enormous skeletal hand lifts out of the pit. Then another. And then before her rises the great bulk of a creature of bone and metal that she has no name for. It reeks of incense and decay, and for once all her rage is lost beneath a primal wave of fear.

"I AM MYRKUL, LORD OF BONES, AND YOU HAVE SLAIN MY CHOSEN! BUT IT IS NO MATTER. FOR I AM DEATH - AND I AM NOT THE END. I AM A BEGINNING."

"The Triad help us..." Wyll whispers.

Rakha tries to swallow in a throat suddenly as dry as those bones. What is that thing? What is happening?

There is no time for more questions. No time even for the beast's rage, because this creature will not bleed. One of those skeletal arms smashes downwards, narrowly missing her head - and she begins a fight not for vengeance but for her life.

[reliquiaenfr]

so i've been working on baldur's gate 3 fandragons for... a while now. many of these ones i have (only missing gale, wyll, withers, and alfira) but you see the problem is idk if i care about them enough anymore. the dragons i've got are just sitting in hibden purgatory, ungened and unloved and... idk that i want to gene them.

every time i think 'maybe i'll just keep x' then i think i have to keep y and then z and then i'm thinking about how much i want them all and also i need these other characters. you feel me? there are so many characters in bg3 and i'm like... i don't think i want them all. i don't want to go down that rabbit hole.

anyway, i might be getting rid of these guys. i've deleted the scries and outfits from my library, but i wanted to save the images somewhere at least. for posterity. because i put so much effort into all of them. maybe that will help me let them go

[doghartzy]

we've been playing around with erasure in my poetry class and i thought i'd take a page out of isobel o'hare's book and do a bit of erasure of pride tape coverage. this is taken from this ap news article about the ban being rescinded.

[bhaalsdeepbat]

Successfully gaslight, gatekeep, girlbossed Jaheira into staying after killing Isobel, but Shadowheart and Gale yelled at Ashe, so now she's sitting in a corner in Slayer form poking her fingers together and thinking about her choices.

Then Astarion told her to keep her claws away and also that Slayer form smells like ass. Just immediate back to back psychic damage, but Minthara 100% got it and was actually quite proud.

[perce-jpg]

time to go beat up serevok

[crossdressingdeath]

At some point I'm going to have to write Kyvir going to sleep the night after rejecting Bhaal and being delighted to the point of crying tears of joy when for the first time in far too long he doesn't have a single nightmare.

[thesquidkid]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Isabel Evans | Isobel Evans/Anatsa Mufaro Characters: Isabel Evans | Isobel Evans, Anatsa Mufaro Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Paris (City), (with how much i talk about paris it deserves its own tag), Starting Over, Getting Back Together, Road Trips Series: Part 3 of shiny happy people holding hands, Part 6 of You are the Superwoman to my Lois Lane Summary:

Anatsa is in Paris for work. Isobel is in Paris on vacation. They haven't talked to each other in months, Isobel broke Anatsa's heart. They both flew five thousand miles to get away from New Mexico and memories of the other. And yet. They were never really that far away.

(Can be read independently in the Superwoman to my Lois Lane series)

[eldrichthingy]

I fucking adore how wild Dark Urge becomes in the end of act 2 & entirety act 3. They just love slaughter. I mean can you really judge them for it.

[anders-hawke]

okay like yes a part of the song is very astarion BUT the whole song is clearly for aylin and isobel like

[calenhads]

act 2…. done?

[deer-with-a-stick]

on one hand, if larian gave us raw rules for revivify/raise dead, you could do things like save Duke Ravengard without Mizora (ignore her, go to Iron Throne where he's going to be dead for some stupid reason, cast Raise Dead with a diamonds and boom. you can't tell me that he's been dead for more than 10 days when you find him) or just revive random NPCs for fun but on the other hand dear god the chaos

[feliciamontagues]

I was already considering the possibility of Mrs Devine/Flambeau, and then I realized their ship name could be "devine fire" and any lingering doubt I had been harboring immediately evaporated.