#Mystra is an amazing Goddess

[ikarwawa]

This line is bizarre because Minsc is Rashemi—we already know *why* they hide magic users. Its cause they're an ethnic minority being hunted down and enslaved by the Red Wizards of Thay.

The was literally a plot point in one of the previous Baldur's Gate games. 😭

Mystra is literally a savior of the Rashemi people! She gets in *trouble* from the Gods for helping mortals too much.

minsc has this line when you talk to him after gale speaks to mystra where he's like back in my homeland, we hide young wizard boys away so that mystra doesn't snatch them up and. like. man. that really adds some more color to how fucked up gale's whole situation with her was huh

[sketchyelvenasss]

You put the stars to shame

[veikkoalen]

i skipped parts of gale's story line because im already sick of mystra and the best part of it is that it looks like my friend did the exact same thing

[starfall-dream]

Companions realizing they love reader (Isekai Baldur's Gate x reader)

This is a repost from my main blog

---

Gale:

Gale is a romantic at heart, reading romance books, imagining a idyllic life with a lover. When he was younger, he believed his lover would be Mystra, living with the goddess that he dedicated his life to. But now, he finds his wishes to be more complicated. Now you're here, and he finds himself imagining what life would look like if you never leave.

"Gale, what does this one do?" You point to one of his many scrolls.

"It's a simple illumination spell" He responded. "There are much more interesting spells in this pile over here." He pointed to another pile of scrolls, this one inside his tent. You look apprehensive, like you don't want to invade him space. Your care, your kindness, was something new to him. "Go on, take a look, I don't mind." He smiled, watching as you entered his tent and dig through his scrolls, taking great care to not damage them as you explore them.

Your eyes sparkled as you read through each spell, asking question after question about each one. It was times like this that reminded him you were not of this world, so fascinated by things that were so common to others. Every gasp of interest filled his heart with pride, made his mind run with a strange sense of affection. Affection he never felt for another, not even Mystra.

"Wow Gale, these are all so amazing!" As you speak, he's broken out of his thoughts, and he realizes that he is completely and utterly in love with you. Maybe it's a little vain or maybe he's been reading too much, but he craves to hear you praise him more. He wants to hear the sweat sound of your approval be directed towards him, for it to never end.

For once, love and fear don't mix for Gale. He doesn't fear falling in love with you or wanting to devote himself to you. His mind drifts back to Mystra, and he knows it's different. His isn't a boy, someone who can easily be manipulated. He's a man, and he knows what he wants.

And he knows he wants you.

Wyll:

Wyll is valiant, heroic, the exact image of a gentleman. He dedicates his life to protecting the weak, and with you there is no difference.

He doesn't want to call you weak, he knows your inexperience comes from something deeper, but he can't help but pity you whenever your situation. Their fearsome leader, someone from another world, scared and confused, but brave nonetheless. It's admirable honesty, but somedays the world is too cruel, and it agonizing watching you traverse a world that has no care for you.

Like now, as enemies swarm your group, snarling and growling in your direction. You look terrified, but you're hiding it well. But as one of the creatures lunges for your throat, he waits no longer before piercing it through its gut. It twitches and growls before collapsing to the ground. You do similarly, moving towards Wyll and rushing towards his arms. He holds you, feeling your heart beat wildly against him. Your other companions deal with the looting as you quickly compose yourself.

"I'm sorry." You stumble out. "I-i just--"

"No need to apologize." Protectiveness swelled in his chest as he tried so hard to ignore the warmth he once felt when he held you. It was so different than anything else he's felt before. It was comforting, addicting even. He craved it more and more as you backed away from him. He could tell you were disturbed, you've never seen him like this before, but his protectiveness overruled any sense of composure he once had.

"Thank you for protecting me Wyll." You whisper, loud enough for him to hear. In an instant, it was like a weight was lifted from his chest, and he could breathe again. You were safe, he has kept you safe. The warmth, it was spreading through him once more, inviting and so very captivating, just like yourself.

In that moment, Wyll sweared to keep you safe, to protect the warmth that he's come to enjoy. He swears to become your protector, no matter how strong you become, you'll always be his top priority, his captivating love.

Halsin

Your dedication to helping this land is something Halsin finds fascinating. It seems second nature to you, never questioning when someone needs help. It honestly worries Halsin, how easy you can be manipulated by others. Halsin finds himself being worried by you often, like now, as he tends to a gash on your arm, a large wound oozing blood onto the floor of his tent. There is only so much Halsin's healing can do, the bandages on your arm becoming a lass resort from any more serious injuries.

"You must be more careful." He warns you, taking great care to wrap your arm gently, not wanting to inflict more pain onto you. "I do not like seeing you in pain." You seem surprised by his declaration, your eyes widening a fraction. He almost revels in your shock, if it weren't for his concern over your injury.

"You don't have to worry about me." You say once he's finished wrapping your arm. "I am your leader." That was another thing Halsin found fascinating, your bravery. Your sheer determination even while everything else was against you. But he also found it terrifying, seeing you get hurt or put yourself in danger nearly sent his heart into an attack, he just wished you would listen to him.

But he guesses that's what makes you so lovable, your kindness, your bravery, your stubbornness. He wouldn't have you any other way, even if you do fill him with dread from time to time. "Please just--be more careful, for me." He requests, gazing at your wound. Blood has seeped through the cloth already.

You smile "I'll try." Your tone had a light air to it, and Halsin couldn't help but smile.

You were going to be the death of him.

Shadowheart

Shadowheart never understood her peers, but truthfully, her peers never understood her.

She watches with a small scowl as you converse with Wyll, a bright smile on both of your faces, but yours is somehow the only one she can focus on. It angers her--maybe angers isn't the right word, it confuses her. She doesn't understand her companions behavior, you're some random human, gone mad by the parasite. Their adoration, it was strange.

Sometimes, she feels like the only normal person in camp. With Gale clinging onto you like a child, Wyll's near obsession with protecting you, and Halsin's worry over your every move, Shadowheart is to believe that nearly everyone has gone mad. But as she hears you laugh at something Wyll said, and as Wyll somehow moves even closer to you, she starts to believe she's gone mad as well. That same anger burns in her chest and her cheeks glow with embarrassment.

You're so strangely alluring, keeping them entranced to the point of obsession. It's almost maddening how you don't seem to know how taken they all are with you, having them each wrapped around your finger. Shadowheart wants to believe this is all a persona, a ploy to use them for your own gain. But she knows better than to believe something like that, you're not the type to manipulate and lie to people.

She wants to believe that the fire that burns inside her is anger. Anger at you using them, trapping them within your grasps to achieved some strange power beyond their understanding. But in reality, the only thing that burns inside her is jealousy. Jealousy at the others for getting to you first, for taking your time and keeping you close to them at all times.

She'd never admit this out loud however, not wanting anyone to know what you do to her. You are a weakness, she can't have those. But as you call her over to the fire, and as Wyll represses a frown, she finds herself allowing room for weakness, at least for a small while.

Karlach

"Would you like a hug, Karlach?" She would like nothing more, but a part of her is afraid. She trust Dammon and his expertises, but she never wants to hurt you. But as you open up your arms towards her, smiling so brightly, she can't help but wrap you up so tightly, and like expected, you don't burn.

You are everything she's expected and more. You are soft and inviting, and she finds herself not wanting to let you go. You're so warm, but in a way that was unfamiliar to her. It wasn't like the flames of Avernus, hot and overwhelming. It wasn't like the fire burning in her heart. It was like a hearty fireplace on a cold winter day, comforting and familiar, and she found herself missing it as you pull away from her.

"Thank you, Solider." Her voice was sincere. You nod, smiling at her, causing her to smile even more.

Later that night, should couldn't help but think of your warmth, and found herself missing it. It surprised her, how much she wanted to be close to you, how much she wanted to hold your hand, keep you close, and never let go. It worried her, how overwhelming these feelings were, but unlike the fire that once burned in her or her infernal engine, it was something she strangely enjoyed. It reminded her of you, almost like you were forever with her.

As she tries to fall asleep, she finds herself thinking of you, of your hug and your smile, and how she would do anything to feel it again, to never loose you. She knows this won't last forever, Dammon told her as much. Eventually, the heat of her engine will catch up to her and she'll have to make a difficult choice.

But that's something she can think about later, all she wants to do right now is think of you.

Astarion

Astarion thought he was better than his companions. He wasn't going to fall for your act so easily, he's seen it all before. Act helpless in need of saving, have someone to naive and guidable sweep in, and then stab them in the back. He was sure that was what you were up too, but after keeping your act up for weeks, it seemed as though you were playing the long game.

Astarion didn't mind, nor did he judge, he just--wished you weren't so good at it. He wished he didn't fold nearly as fast when you ask him to stitch up your clothing, hiding his blush as you praise him for his work. He wished he didn't seethe with envy whenever you were with another, burning as they hold onto you tighter and tighter. And by gods, he wished he didn't find himself wanting you so damn much.

Astarion pricks his finger as his mind wanters, a small sting spreading through the appendage. A slight hiss leaves his lips before he puts down the shirt his hands, your shirt. It's almost pathetic how much care he puts into repairing your clothing, almost making him laugh. The tear was a small one, there shouldn't be a reason he's keeping it this long, but he finds himself caring a lot about your things, your clothes, your hair, you in general. He hates it, but he can't deny it.

Eventually, he picks the shirt back up, examining it. The old tear, barely noticeable, weights heavily on Astarion's undead heart. Would you notice it? Would you be upset that he failed to do his job correctly? He knows it's stupid to think this way, to care so much about what you think, but he can't help it. You're alluring, captivating even, and it scares him.

It scares him how easily you captivate people. It scares him how easily you captivated him. But most of all, the knowledge of what each of them would do for you scares him the most.

Astarion knows that he's no better than anyone else in your strange group, he's just as swayed by your kindness and compassion as any of them. He's just too scared to admit it.

Lae'Zel

Lae'Zel doesn't like you.

You disturb her, with your strange mutterings and stupidity that has to be due to the parasite. You never seem to know what's going on, and if was in her nature, she would pity you. But of course, she doesn't. She has no reason to feel bad for you, not when everything is at stake, not when any of you could die at any time. But traveling with you has been--eventful to say the least. Her allies seem to see something in you, not that she cares much. You're weak, helpless, insane, and nothing will change that.

Lae'Zel has been taught her entire life that the only thing that matters is keeping herself strong. Surrounding herself with lesser people, weak people, is a distraction to avoid at all cost. But she doesn't have the option now, you are her only option, and she will have to work with what's she's got.

So she protects you, she keeps you safe, and she keeps you alive. She needs you, as little as she wants to admit it. You are important to her cause, nothing else matters. She couldn't care less what you think of her, as long as her parasite is destroyed and her people are saved, that's all that matters.

But she can't deny the surprise she feels when you agree to help her people, when you defend her from the others blatant disrespect, something you claim to be "teasing". She can't help but appreciate it when you, someone so much weaker than her, protect her in battle. It shocking, even more so that she doesn't hate it. She doesn't hate the affection from someone so weak, she doesn't hate it when you rely on her, or when you seek her out.

She doesn't know what she feels exactly, but she knows for a fact that she does not like you.

[darkurgetrash]

Gods' Damned Gale Dekarios!

Hi all! After reading this amazing post by @gale-dekarios, I couldn't help but write this silly, goofy one-shot. Please enjoy!|[Read on AO3]

Rating: General Audiences Wordcount: 4,576 Summary:

Opulentus is Waterdeep's most renowned wizard—a charming, handsome prodigy whose charisma commands respect. But when his long-time nemesis, Gale of Waterdeep, returns after years of disgrace, everything Opulentus holds dear is threatened. Gale, once stripped of his magic for defying Mystra, has somehow become the hero of Baldur's Gate, returning with a beautiful fiancée, newfound fame, and an air of humility that leaves Opulentus seething. Now, there is only one question on Opulentus' highly intellectual mind... What is Gods' Damned 'Gale Dekarios' up to?!

Requested Tags: @onlyfangz @kwrite1776 @dont-try-pesticide

Opulentus had always considered himself quite the ladies' man. It was hard not to, after all, when you were the most renowned, most wealthy, and most handsome wizard in all of Waterdeep. From child prodigy to a fellow at Blackstaff Academy, the very same institution where he'd studied since he was just a bright-eyed boy, there was no greater catch in the city. He was a legend in his own right, with a knack for charm and a wit that could melt even the hardest of hearts.

Tonight would be no different, he decided, as he twizzled his luscious, dapper moustache between his fingers, his gaze roaming across the rambunctious regulars of The Quaffing Quaggoth before landing on what might have been the most beautiful woman he'd ever layed eyes on. She stood out even in the crowded tavern, her presence like a breath of fresh air amid the rowdy patrons.

She was a half-elf by the looks of things, with soulful, winged eyes and long, dark waves that cascaded down her back in a flawless display of beauty. Her warm tawny skin was radiant, her cheeks kissed by rouge and her lips a gentle shade of berry pink. Her features seemed as if sculpted by Sune herself, crafted to be the perfect match for Opulentus' own magnificence.

Opulentus couldn't help but smile. Here was a challenge worth his considerable talents. He adjusted his shirt collar and straightened his posture, making sure his charms were in full effect.

Then, with an air of unrivalled confidence, he took a step forward, ready to make an impression. The wizard's reputation preceded him, but he knew that his charm would have to do the rest. After all, beauty like hers deserved nothing less than the best Waterdeep had to offer. And that, of course, was Opulentus himself!

“Oh, barkeep!” he called, suave and cool, as he stood beside her at the bar. As expected, she turned her head at his magnanimous presence. “A glass of your finest wine, please. For myself and…” He glanced at her with a wry, flirtatious smile. “This goddess among mere mortals.”

The woman raised her eyebrow at him, an amused smile curving her lips. She was probably thanking the gods for her good fortune, Opulentus thought, to be noticed by him—the most successful man this side of the Sword Coast.

“That’s quite alright,” she replied, her lilted voice sending shivers down his spine. “I have plenty of coin for my own drink.”

“Ah, but m’lady,” he said, mirroring her expression, “one so beautiful should not have to spend her own coin, no matter how much of it she may have.” 

He let his gaze sweep down her frame, noting her graceful yet slightly athletic build and the freckles dotting her collarbones. Could this be the woman he'd finally settle down with?

“I’m afraid to tell you that I’m quite taken,” she said, holding up a hand to stop the bartender as he moved to pass her the glass of wine.

“‘Taken’ is but a small obstacle, my dear,” he scoffed, running his fingers through his hair, making sure to flex his biceps as he did so. “I assume you know who I am?”

“Not at all,” she replied, her unimpressed tone making it clear how devoutly she was playing hard-to-get. By the gods, this woman was practically throwing herself at his feet!

“Ah, but then you must have travelled far! For I am the greatest wizard on the Sword Coast, a celebrity in my own right. My name is—”

“Elminster’s Beard – Gary? Gary Johnson?”

At the mention of his given name, one he'd long repressed, a chill ran through him. Not only because of the rude interruption but because it was a voice he knew all too well. His long-time nemesis, a rival to end all rivals.

“Gale of Waterdeep.” He snarled, turning to see the man standing behind him. The sight was enough to make his skin crawl—Gale, with his quickly greying long hair tied back in a bun, and his annoyingly perfect face wearing that insufferably charming smile. How could it be genuine after the embarrassment he'd suffered two years ago?

Indeed, when Gale of Waterdeep—the one man who had always outshone him, ever since their days as juniors at Blackstaff Academy—had proven himself a foolish, arrogant wizard, when he'd dared to betray Mystra, and was subsequently stripped of his magic, Opulentus had rejoiced. It was the happiest day of his life! Finally, he was the best! 

Yet here was Gale again, voice bright, skin radiant, with that same smile that made Opulentus grind his teeth. How could he be so joyful, so confident, after everything that happened? It was inconceivable – nay, impossible!

But he wouldn’t let such a disruption ruin his game. The man was a cad, a poor excuse of a wizard, and he would not let him take this chance from him.

He forced a charismatic smile to return to his face, as if the mere sight of Gale didn’t have him already quaking with envy, and patted the man firmly on his tall shoulder.

“Ah, my old friend!” He cheered through gritted teeth, “How have you been? Though you are quite mistaken, my name is Opulentus. Gary Johnson was my…” He paused, trying to conjure up an excuse. “...my brother! Ah, but that little fallout with Mystra must have rattled your brains some, hmm chum?”

“You always were so very humorous!” Gale replied, his laughter sounding so genuine that Opulentus could do nothing but blink in response. “And ‘rattle my brains’ it did, I’m afraid. Though, I’m sure you’ll be happy to know, I am quite returned to my old self – though certainly with many improvements!” 

Gale skirted around him so that his hand lay on the beautiful woman’s shoulder – so bold! So brazen! However, as he did, she looked up at him with the largest, most adoring eyes that Opulentus couldn’t help but blush… Ah, but in rage! Was this some twisted nightmare?!

“Opulentus, this is my betrothed, Tav. Does she not put the stars to shame?” Gale said oh so sweet and softly that Opulentus’ skin prickled. “Tav, this is… Opulentus. He and I trained at Blackstaff together as young men.”

“Nice to meet you, Opulentus.” She said, her tone equally as amused as before, though there was something softer in it, touched by tenderness. By gods, she was smitten with Gale of Waterdeep of all people! What lies must this man have wrought to have captured such a goddess’ heart so fully? For the second time no less?!

“Charmed,” he replied, sharply, but with as much false delight as could possibly be mustered, given the circumstances. 

But ah…! Was this not the perfect opportunity to make this poor girl aware of the man’s true nature? It would be cruel to keep her in the dark, surely this is why fate brought her to him! He’d rescue her, a beauty from a beast, and in the process, woo her. But that was his destiny. He was sure of it. 

“Tav, you say? And how did you meet?” He snarled. “Last I heard, Gale, you had secluded yourself to your tower in disgrace! Nought but a tressum to keep you company.”

“You are right, old friend,” The man nodded, seemingly… unbothered. “It is much too long a story, but the short of it is that — in a world of infinite possibilities — fate somehow brought the two of us together… Under the threat of ceremorphosis, no less!” He chuckled. “I’d have never thought I’d be thanking a mind flayer for my good fortune, but I suppose stranger things have happened.”

To say Opulentus was confused would be beyond obvious. Who was this man in front of him, so non-combatively taking such blows? Completely humbled yet talking of strange and potentially grave matters as if they were nothing? Something was surely amiss.

“Ah — then Tav, you must have saved this poor soul, I assume? My old friend, you see, had been stripped of his magic after defying his ex-lover, the goddess Mystra herself! I’m sure he must have been quite the burden to you.”

“Oh no, we saved each other in more ways than can be imagined.” She said lovingly, as giddy as could be as she lay a slender hand on Gale’s chest, he beaming at her, the heat between them unavoidable. Opulentus was beginning to feel angry. But no — he shouldn’t lose his cool. After all, he was the successful one! The powerful one! The one with… credentials! He’d finally beaten Gale of Waterdeep!

“You’re too modest, my love,” Gale said. “But, ah, we should be heading off. Wouldn’t want to keep mother waiting.” He wrapped his arm around Tav’s waist as she stood, floating to her feet like some ethereal being. “Let us meet again, soon, Opulentus. I’m sure my love would be most regaled by our schoolboy days – how competitive we both were!”

Opulentus’ smile fell flat. How dare this man pretend that the competition didn’t remain? Wasn’t he now flaunting his beautiful betrothed right in his face?!

"A pleasure, Gale of Waterdeep," he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Likewise, and please, it’s Gale Dekarios now. So long!”

And with that, the wizard and the beauty disappeared from the bar, leaving Opulentus scowling, a stem of wine in hand that he didn’t even bloody like. Ah - blows to it all! This wasn’t over, not by a long shot. Gale might think he had won some grand prize with his new love, but what did he know? After all, this Tav clearly had poor taste in men, seeing as she had chosen the most disgraced wizard in Waterdeep. Quite, she would not have been worth his time – a firebolt dodged, if ever Opulentus saw one.

Gale ‘Dekarios’, hmm. A plain name quite befitting a fallen rival.

Opulentus took a swig of his wine, grimacing at the taste. Who needed love and relationships? He had success, prestige, and all the respect that came with being the best wizard on the Sword Coast, a fellow of Blackstaff Academy. Let Gale keep his pretty bride-to-be; it didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. What truly mattered was respect. And Opulentus had plenty of it.

With a self-affirming nod, Opulentus downed his wine and stormed out of The Quaffing Quaggoth – nearly tripping over his own feet as he did so.

“Quiet down, class, quiet down!” Opulentus urged as he entered the lecture hall, his voice echoing off the stone walls. Normally, his students were quick to settle when he gave the command – his reputation as a strict yet brilliant professor preceded him – but today was different. The usual murmurs and whispers had escalated into a cacophony of excited chatter, much to his irritation.

"Class, quiet down!" he called again, this time with more authority. He banged his staff on the podium, which usually silenced the rowdy students, but today it had little effect. His patience was thinning, and he could feel the heat rising to his cheeks. What could possibly be so interesting that it overshadowed his entrance?

He focused on some of the students seated near the front, leaning in slightly to catch snippets of their conversation. It didn’t take long for him to piece together the cause of the commotion.

“Did you hear? The new Professor of Illusions is one of the saviours of Baldur’s Gate!!”

“YES! And oh my gods, and he’s sooo handsome!”

“-- And his partner! My bisexual awakening for real for real.”

“Seriously, such babygirl energy.”

“The biggest, I’m literally rattling the bars on my enclosure right now—”

Opulentus’ eyebrow twitched. So that was it—some new hotshot had taken the role of "celebrity professor," drawing all the attention away from him! Well, he certainly wasn't about to let some flashy hero usurp his position as the academy’s most respected instructor, even if they did have an impressive title.

Of course, he too had heard of the situation over in Baldur’s Gate – it had become international news at this point, the talk of every tavern. A Netherbrain had threatened the city only to be destroyed by a group of adventurers, and in several of the higher Wizarding circles, it had even been rumoured to have ties to Karsus, though that seemed preposterous, nothing more than illicit tales.

He cleared his throat and raised his voice authoritatively.

"I'm sure you're all quite excited to meet your new instructor, but in the meantime, you're in my class! Let's show a little respect, shall we?" The students quieted a bit, though he could still see their eyes darting back and forth with whispered gossip, like they couldn't wait to get out of his lecture and hear more about the new professor.

This would require a more forceful approach. He banged his staff once more, harder this time, and then leaned forward with a stern look that he reserved for such occasions. 

“You’re here to learn the advanced arts of Transmutation, not to gossip about other professors. Now, open your texts to page seventy-three, and let's begin–”

“ – Sorry to interrupt, old friend!”

Opulentus’ blood turned cold. Gods. Not him… anyone but him.

The lecture hall erupted once more in excited chatter as Gods’ Damned Gale of Waterdeep – ah, Gale Dekarios, suddenly waltzed into the room, his genial hand raised in greeting as he moved with effortless grace. The wizard wore immaculate scholarly robes, each step radiating an air of self-assured charisma that made Opulentus seethe. The students were captivated, and his annoyance grew with every whisper.

He had been the one to save Baldur’s Gate?! Infeasible! Absurd! The man must have shared some resemblance to one of the heroes and caused rumours to spiral, as they so often did in academic institutions. It could not be!

He clenched his jaw, trying to regain his composure as Gale approached closer, his smile as wide as ever, his demeanour exuding easy charm. Opulentus straightened, preparing to speak with the man quietly, without drawing more attention.

“I hope I’m not inconveniencing you at all, my astute colleague,” Gale said, “but I wondered if I may be so bold as to join your lecture? I believe it would be most beneficial to observe your teaching style with these particular students before taking them on myself, next period.”

Opulentus could feel rage boiling like a frog in a pot deep within his chest, so intensely that he was certain it was affecting his cholesterol levels. But what choice did he have? It was, as the saying goes: ‘Keep your enemies close, and your… friends closer?’ Wait, was that right? It didn’t seem right. Bah, alas. It didn’t matter.

"Of course," Opulentus said, forcing his tone to stay light and welcoming. "I’d be delighted to have you sit in. I'm sure you'll find my teaching style quite... instructive." He added a slight edge to his last word, just enough to hint that he was in control here, not the intruding, fraudulent Gale Dekarios.

Gale grinned broadly. 

"Thank you, Opulentus! I look forward to learning from your vast experience."

Opulentus gestured to a chair in the corner of the room, a clear signal that this was as far as Gale would be allowed to intrude. 

"Feel free to take a seat over there. I was just about to begin our discussion on advanced transmutation techniques. I'm sure you'll find it enlightening."

Gale nodded with a smile and made his way to the designated spot, his presence drawing the attention of several students who whispered and pointed in his direction. Opulentus took a deep breath, reminding himself that he was the one in charge here. Gale could observe, but he would not disrupt the lecture. Not if he had anything to say about it.

He turned back to the class, raising his voice to regain their focus. 

"Alright, everyone, let's get back to our discussion. Please open your texts to page seventy-three, and let's dive into the finer points of matter fabrication…" 

Throughout the lecture, he couldn't help but glance at Gale out of the corner of his eye, watching for any signs of further interference. But Gale just sat there, smiling and nodding, as if he were the most obedient student in the room.

Oh, how he hated him. Stupid, handsome, charming Gale Dekarios! This had to be another ploy, some underhanded scheme. The Gale he knew would have been all interruptions, eager to be the centre of attention. Yet, the man in his classroom was playing the role of humble observer—graceful, courteous, infuriatingly well-mannered.

Opulentus clenched his fists beneath the podium, his knuckles white with frustration. What had happened to the brash, reckless Gale he knew? This new version was even more unbearable. And the students! They were enchanted by him, their eyes constantly flicking over to where he sat, hoping to catch his eye.

But Opulentus refused to let Gale's presence diminish him. He'd worked too hard, earned too much respect to let one exiled wizard, no matter how charming, take that from him. So Gale had a pretty wife and the adoration of students. Big deal! Opulentus still had the accolades, the titles, the power that came with his position. He was still the respected professor, the one with connections to the most powerful wizards in Waterdeep.

He was the Opulentus! He'd won their rivalry!

Yet, as his eyes kept darting toward his new colleague, an unsettling feeling began to creep in. Was it… admiration? No, it couldn't be. Respect? Even more absurd. Gale was a has-been, a disgraced wizard who had defied Mystra herself, the goddess of magic. To admire him would be laughable.

And yet... there was something about Gale's unshakable confidence, his genuine warmth with the students, that gnawed at Opulentus's sense of superiority. It was as if Gale had found a different kind of power, one that didn't rely on accolades or titles. 

And it was maddening.

“Please, I thank you all for your kind welcomes, but I can hardly take so much credit!”

“Mr Dekarios, no need to be so modest! What you did was quite spectacular – if you don’t mind me saying so! From disgraced wizard to the chosen of Mystra, and with power even more potent than before!”

“You flatter me, but please, call me Gale.”

Gods! Even in the staff room, there was no relief from this man! Opulentus sat in the corner, sulking over a mug of black coffee, glaring at Gale over the rim of his glasses. The wizard was surrounded by colleagues who fawned over him, eager to hear his tales and bask in the glow of his newfound glory. Turns out – as inconceivable as it was – Gale Dekarios had been a saviour of Baldur’s Gate. Along with his betrothed, Tav, who was apparently a scholar in her own right, a sorcerer local to that city.

Opulentus took a long, bitter sip of his coffee, feeling the heat scorch his tongue but doing little to warm his mood. Why was everyone so taken with Gale all of a sudden? The man had been a pariah not long ago, a laughing stock among wizards. Yet now, here he was, the hero of Baldur's Gate, Mystra's chosen, and the most popular professor at the academy.

Gods. He couldn't stand the way everyone treated Gale like a celebrity, as if his past failures had never happened. It was as if Opulentus' years of hard work, his dedication to his craft, meant nothing compared to Gale's apparent underdog comeback. It wasn't fair!

But as he sat there, scowling into his coffee, a realisation struck him. It wasn't just the attention that bothered him—it was the fact that Gale didn't seem to care about any of it. He wasn't seeking adoration or approval; he was just... there, enjoying the company of others, sharing stories, and spreading good cheer.

And looking ever-so dashing as he did so…

…Bah! But it was all for show! It must be! Yet, try as he might, Opulentus could not make sense of it. He closed his eyes and pictured a grand conspiracy board with strings and thumbtacks, connecting all the dots of Gale's previous manipulations and betrayals. Surely there was a pattern here, some thread that would explain how Gale had orchestrated his miraculous comeback, how he had once again stolen the spotlight from under Opulentus' nose.

But no matter how hard he tried, the lines remained tangled, the connections fuzzy, and the dots... incongruent. It just didn’t make sense.

Well, fine!  If Gale wanted to play the role of the humble hero, so be it. Opulentus would play the role of the brilliant, stoic professor—the one with real power and authority. 

He loudly cleared his throat.

"Ah, Gale, quite the story! I'm surprised you're not writing books by now with all these tales. Although, I suppose it's easier to entertain people with fancy retellings than to actually do any real work, isn't it?"

The other staff members turned to Opulentus, a few of them raising their eyebrows at the unexpected jab. Gale, however, didn't seem fazed. He… chuckled!

"Well, storytelling is an art, after all.” He smiled. “But you're right, Opulentus—nothing beats the hard work and dedication that would go into writing novels, as I’m aware you have done time and time again. I guess that's why I have so much respect for you and your teachings! You’ve always been one to work tirelessly, never settling for less, be it in your writings or in the classroom."

Opulentus blinked, thoroughly surprised at the unexpected compliment. It surged something warm inside him, a friendly caress to his ego, and he found himself… blushing.

The other staff members nodded in agreement with Gale's words, a few of them even smiling at Opulentus with a newfound appreciation. It only made him more flustered—this wasn’t the reaction he'd intended at all!

He cleared his throat, trying to maintain his composure, but the warmth spread across his face and down his neck betrayed him. He’d tried to undermine Gale, only to end up complimented himself. Gods, it was baffling! But he couldn't backpedal now, not in front of the other professors.

"Yes, well," he managed to stammer, "dedication is key, as you well know. But let’s get back to work, shall we? We've got students to inspire and knowledge to impart." He tried to sound authoritative, but the quiver in his voice betrayed him even further.

“Absolutely!” Gale nodded with a grin that seemed annoyingly sincere, as if he were truly delighted by Opulentus’s words. “And thank you, as ever, for such riveting conversation, old friend. Let us catch up later, hm?” Gale said, giving Opulentus a friendly pat on the shoulder before leaving the staff room with a confident stride.

Opulentus watched him go, feeling the sting of defeat as his colleagues exchanged bemused glances and hushed whispers. He sat in the ensuing silence for a few minutes, gripping his mug, trying to push thoughts of Gale from his mind, but his introspection stirred, unrelenting and unquenchable.

No! No, he would not be defeated!

Resolutely, he slammed his mug down with a loud clatter and stormed out of the staff room, his mind racing with indignation. Damn it all, enough was enough! In just two days, Gale had swooped in, stealing the spotlight and proving himself to be Opulentus’ better once again. He wouldn't stand for it—not this time.

Turning the corner at the end of the long hall, his eyes fell on his rival across the hallway, the wizard speaking to a couple of students with his usual charm, the perfect picture of humility and enthusiasm. Opulentus cleared his throat loudly, causing Gale to turn toward him with that infuriatingly warm smile. The students glanced at Opulentus, then quickly scurried away, clearly sensing the tension.

"Alright, Gale," Opulentus said, his voice dripping with forced civility. "What's your plan? What are you after? Don't think I don't know what you're up to!"

Gale raised an eyebrow, his smile fading slightly. 

"Plan? What do you mean?" he asked, genuine-seeming confusion in his tone.

"Don't play innocent!” Opulentus replied, crossing his arms. “You return to Waterdeep and your first call of action is to show me up! Bah – waltzing around and acting all friendly and humble, like a changed man, but I know you. You just want to steal the spotlight, steal my thunder as you always have done! But for what? What is your reasoning, old ‘friend’?”

Gale paused for a moment, his expression softening as he looked at Opulentus. There almost seemed to be a look of pity behind his eyes and such a sympathetic gaze turned his stomach to knots. He almost couldn’t bear to maintain eye contact.

"No, Opulentus, that's not it at all," Gale said at last, calmly. "Though… You are right, in a sense. I was once an arrogant man, the perfect picture of a wizard full of hubris, and it only led me to ruin… as you well know.”

Opulentus shifted on his feet awkwardly, annoyed at himself for losing his composure. Yet, this was good. This meant that this ‘new Gale Dekarios’ would finally reveal himself.

“But I have changed. The journey I went on, the people I met, it showed me a different path – one I could have scarcely foreseen. I used to be obsessed with power and recognition, and I made a lot of mistakes because of it. I hurt a lot of people, including you.”

The man’s big brown eyes turned softer still, cute like a calf, guilty as could be. It struck a chord in Opulentus’ stone heart – but no… no, this… Was this true? Was Gale… apologising?

“...I would not be so careless again. I hope you can accept my most sincere apologies, and that we can perhaps forge a comradery going forward, perhaps even a friendship. You know… I’ve always respected you, Opulentus. I think we could learn a lot from each other.”

Gale offered his hand, palm open, inviting Opulentus to grasp it. Opulentus found himself gulping.

“What do you say? Shall we start over?”

Opulentus was taken aback. He’d expected denial, excuses, maybe even a fight, but an apology? And such a sincere one? It threw him off balance. He searched Gale's eyes, expecting to find some hint of deception, but there was none. Just honesty and remorse. He felt his anger waver – but no, could it be true?! Could Gale of Waterdeep really have changed? It was difficult to accept, but the warmth in his voice, the genuine regret in his eyes, seemed too real to ignore.

And so, Opulentus thrust his hand forward, grasping Gale's with a firm grip and giving it a hearty shake. Was it peculiar to say that it made his heart… flutter?!

“Alright, Gale,” he said slowly, keeping his expression neutral, though he was sure his confusion and fluster was evident. “We can start over. But don't think this makes us friends. Not yet. I’m still watching you.”

Gale nodded, a faint smile on his lips. 

“Understood. Though, I hope you’ll forgive me for saying that I’m hopeful!”

Opulentus smiled back at him, releasing his hand with annoying reluctance. He cleared his throat.

“Depends,” He said, swallowing down that strange and unfamiliar feeling entangling inside of him. “...Does your wife-to-be have a sister?”

[finallyouttathatdress]

After watching the Tav/ Gale "foursome" scene, I kinda had a light bulb moment. For all his bluster about how awesome and amazing he is, it's only ever in regard to his intelligence, talent, etc. He may have said he was handsome or something along those lines once or twice, but that's it.

Then you have the romance scenes, either the Astral plane or the other one. Other companions have zero shame about walking around in their birthday suits. But Gale? In one scene, you're both Astral projections/ ghosts and the other fades to black with both characters fully dressed.

All that to say that I'm pretty sure Gale is very insecure about his body. Which, honestly, if his relationship with Mystra is as messed up as most people seem to think it was, would make perfect sense. You're sleeping with an actual goddess who you view as being equivalent to all existent and perfect, how could you not develop insecurity issues? I don't know if that was intentional or not, but either way it's my headcanon for Gale now.

[dreamingofthewild]

Please keep your romanticised zealotry out of the tags.

If you think Gale is the only character in BG3 who has not been abused by a higher power, then you have seriously missed a key theme of the entire narrative of the game. Especially Gale's story and character arc.

One of the biggest themes of the game is power and the cycles of abuse. Specifically, those with power controlling those 'underneath' them and using them for their own gain. Even the games villains are just pawns for a god or a devil.

Sincerely, a Gale fan who is tired of people saying he wasn't abused because he is a man and Mystra is a female goddess.

We're not jealous because he has an ex fml.

Mystra does not love Gale. She has a history of sleeping with her chosen and using her charms to convince them to become her chosen. I'm not saying she is solely responsible for what happened ( I'm looking at you, Elminster), but she is the (for want of a better word) abuser in Gale's case. What reasons would a goddess have for sleeping with her chosen when they don’t feel as mortals do?

It's also important to point out that Gale did not know that the orb was of netherese origin. He thought he was helping her by returning a piece of the weave to her, that is canon. And he did so because he thought he was losing her favour. Gale had no one in his life to stop him (look how easily Tav can convince him not to go for the crown or blow himself up). He just wanted to earn back the favour of his goddess.

Gale's situation might not be as clear cut as the other origin companions, but that doesn't mean that his storyline doesn't follow the same themes and he wasn't groomed, used, abused and discarded by a god.

If you want to read some Mystra lore and how it relates to Gale, the following Tumblr accounts have posted some amazing metas in the past: messiahzz & galedekarios (I'm not going to tag them directly here).

[ellekhen]

Heaven Is a Place on Earth

Summary: After speaking with Mystra, Gale returns to Connie's side back in the Stormshore Tabernacle. Although they are both still plagued by self-doubt, Connie and Gale's love, trust, and belief in one another lifts each other up, and an entirely different, pleasurable kind of worship unfolds upon Mystra's altar.

A gift for @grovyrosegirl, the creator of the amazing, fierce Connie Lamalet. Thank you for giving me your blessing! :')

(Inspired by our conversation around this lovely art!)

Pairing: Gale x Female Tav Rating: Explicit Length: 4.5K words (Complete)

Excerpt below:

Connie is perplexed.

Gale gazes at her with a reverence not misplaced within this tabernacle, but never meant for her. Surely not meant for her…

“Connie,” Gale breathes, and without thinking any further, she leaps forth to swallow her name up at once. 

Her hands grasp at the wizard’s robes, pulling him flush to her and closer still — but never close enough. She melts into a kiss that rushes through her aching bones, tingling and yearning in the back of her skull. 

Connie moans against Gale’s mouth, nuzzling into his chin and throat without care of the friction of his beard. All she wants is him. She needs him…

“Gale Dekarios,” she whispers, and it’s a broken thing that seems to make the wizard’s whole body shudder as his hands slip firmly down the curve of her waist. “I mean it. You deserve everything. And you’re all I’ve ever wanted… even before we’ve even met.”

Poetry. From her. She almost wants to laugh at herself, but gods,��his eyes…

“I wish I had met you so much earlier,” Gale whispers, voice shaking even as he smiles. He presses her hand to his cheek, smiling ruefully up at her. “Months… years wasted. Wallowing. Waiting. Feeling so worthless in the face of my own expectations…” his eyes flick up, shoulders sagging slightly as his implied next words go unspoken.

Her expectations.

Connie looks up. She had almost forgotten Mystra’s statue towering over them — an image of grace and beauty. Perfection. The goddess hasn’t had scraggly, frizzy braids in over a millennia, Connie reckons. Nor sunburns. Nor bad breath. 

But Mystra doesn’t have him. And that’s her own fault. Goddesses aren’t infallible after all. 

Gale chuckles ruefully. “Think she’s watching?”

Connie tears her eyes from Mystra’s serene, stony countenance, and an uncharacteristically daring idea sneaks into her mind. 

“I damn well hope she is,” she declares. 

And she presses, presses Gale back against the altar. Startled and confused, he collapses backwards with a soft oof. His eyes are wide as he ogles up at his fierce lover and friend — but not in fear. There’s a little disbelief in his expression, yes, but mostly…

There’s hunger. There’s intrigue. There’s…

Adoration. 

“Oh,” Gale breathes. “Oh…”

Connie can’t remember the last time she was compelled to do something so bold. She shucks off her armor, thanking the gods (but not Mystra) that she chose to don a lighter set for this venture. She keeps her eyes fixed on Gale even as she fumbles with the straps. 

Gale watches, his chest rising and falling, his lips parted as he wets them. His robe is rumpled and slightly askew, revealing part of the Netherese orb’s sigil and the edges of soft hair upon his chest. 

“…here?” he finally asks. 

“I…” Connie hesitates, slowing her undressing. She’s not anywhere close to naked yet, but in her simple clothes she feels too soft and vulnerable — especially face to face with a man who was a stranger just a couple months ago. “You’re right. This is…” she laughs sheepishly, stooping down to pick up her doublet. “Sorry. Forget about…”

She gasps as Gale lurches forth to grasp her hands. Their eyes meet, chests rising and falling as Connie’s heartbeat skyrockets…

And then it slows as Gale pulls her into an embrace, lying back against the altar. She falls with him, straddling his hips as she snuggles against his chest. She rides its rise and fall as she listens to his rapid, but steady heartbeat. 

“I love you,” Gale murmurs, and flush against Connie’s ear, his chest vibrates with his words. 

Connie makes a small sound as she presses her lips back against his. His tongue is warm as it slips against hers, holding and caressing her just as his hands do as they slide beneath her clothing. His hands knead at the knots in her back, and she moans appreciatively at his ministrations. 

There’s a brief interlude as Gale begins to pull up the hem of Connie’s shirt from beneath her belt, peeling it away from pink, flushed skin. She almost wants to apologize for her sweaty state, but he doesn’t seem to mind at all. 

He gazes at her in awe, taking in the planes of her skin as she helps him pull the shirt away over her head. She lets the shirt drop to the floor, and it’s a whisper that echoes across the empty tabernacle. 

“Is this alright?” she asks, noting how Gale has gone still. But before she can begin to dismount his lap, his hands fly up to rest upon her hips, holding her to him. 

Gale swallows, his throat bobbing as his eyes shine in the moonlight. “I think this is the most alright I’ve been in a very, very long time.”

Connie laughs nervously, but there’s the smallest sob caught in there too. She leans forward, shifting as both of Gale’s hands unfasten her belt and smooth into her trousers around the soft curve of her ass. He squeezes her then, and she moans as she feels the hard heat of him pressing through his robes and into her groin, teasing her through too many layers of fabric. A burst of cool, searing pleasure washes through her core, buzzing in her brain as she feels something giddy and feral compel her to roll against him over and over again, pinning him to the stone with her hips. 

“Oh—! Shit,” Connie laughs as Gale thrusts his hips experimentally up into her. “Let’s get these awful things off.”

[dearasteria]

Major Gale romance SPOILERS below, so please DO NOT read and watch if you don't want to get spoiled.

I was REALLY worried about how romance with Gale would go, especially after talking to him right after he gets Karsas' book. My Tav wanted to believe and trust him, but something didn't feel right. At the end of Act II, when Tav tries to convince him not blow himself up for his ex's forgivness/to save Faerûn, it can be summed up with that one gif from Grey's Anatomy: "So pick me. Choose me. Love me" 🤡. Honestly, she asks not only to choose her, but also not to kill her and the rest of the team. Gale is so easily swayed and tells Tav that he loves her, even more than Mystra. Tav should be happy, right? But I'm like WAIT A DAMN MINUTE, it was faaar too easy, I mean, no protests from him, I didn't even have to use persuasion to convince him. At that point, after the trauma that Bioware had caused us with Anders and Solas, I'm getting paranoid. Gale doesn't love Tav, he's definitely hiding something. But I'm thinking to myself, "Okay, calm down, he just doesn't want to die, super understable. Maybe he really loves her and he needed to hear it? He needed reassurance that he has something to live for? Yes, it must be it". But then I go to the quest journal and see this:

DAMMIT GALE, you snake 🐍 My poor baby Tav (especially since the romance scene in Waterdeep was so warm and tender). She's so in love in him. Now I'm convinced that he will definetly betrey us, stubs us right in the heart.

At the beginning of Act III, he becomes obsessed with a book called The Annals of Karsus that may help him learn more about the crown. He becomes obsessed with how powerful he can become. When Tav gives him the book and says, "We already know the crown's dangerougs. Wouldn't that make things worse?" he replies:

"Worse? It could be the best thing that ever happened to me. To us."

After all this, Gale tries to convince Tav to help him reconstruct the crown. We have this beautiful scene on the boat and when I tell you my jaw dropped. HE CHOOSES TAV, listens to her concerns and simply chooses her.

The way he says it, the way he corrects himself… damn. For Tav, it's like a bucket of cold water. And I'm like, "Here we go again" 🤡

Furthermore, when we visit the Stormshore Tabernacle in Baldur's Gate and interact with Mystra's statue, he seems to feel so uncomfortable, he doesn't want to be there. Tav starts to think he's definitely hiding something. She would like to hear Mystra's version of what happened between her and Gale (I hope we can talk to her at some point in the game, it would be very interesting).

My Tav, however, disagreed, and Gale replies, "I hope you're right. I truly do. Godly power, perhaps I can live without, but you? You're everything". Has the curse of dating mages that leave players heartbroken been broken?

But I have to admit, when he said: "With you, I forget my goddess. I love you. Tell me you feel the same way. Tell me you want what I want. Please" - OH GODS 😳. I was so close to agreeing to this madness. The VA did an amazing job (side note: so many talented VAs in this game, it's mind blowing), the writing is amazing, the music is incredible, I was blown away, really.

Next day, after the boat scene, he's so adorable and full of love for Tav. Then I remembered his gratest flaw (for me it's more like his biggest fear) from the scene with Zethino in the circus: "He thinks he, and the world, might be better off if he were dead". At the time I thought he was lying, manipulating Zethino and his answers. My distrust of mages in games… Yes, I have a problem 😅

I haven't finished the game, but I have high hopes for a happy ending. No spoilers please, thanks :)

What a rollecoster of emotions, I love it, I love Gale. It felt like I was playing Dragon Age: Origins for the first time, way back when I was a teenager. It's really insane how this game makes me feel, how much I care about its characters and story.

EDIT: Okay, so we have an audience with Mystra, I mean only Gale, but we see the whole conversation between them. My only complain is that Gale doesn't mention Tav when Mystra asks him why he defied her 💔 The outcomes are different depending on whether you do it before or after the boat scene. Personally, I think doing the boat scene before meeting Mystra is much better. I get the impression that Gale is abandoning the plan to reconstruct the crown solely for Tav and his love for her. And the drama 👌🏻 it gives me life.

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

Hey! If youre still doing the ask game, would you mind the "I'll take care of you, promise." To "please come inside me" pipeline w/ Gale? 👉👈 (or you can choose your favorite if you don't want to do both! I love your writing, thank you so much💞)

aaaa ty anon!!

Send asks using this prompt

This is based on a line between Gale and Astarion as well as my neutral evil!Tav

Rated M

Warning: wacky magic and manipulation

Gale of Waterdeep has always fancied you, a fellow wizard and one who felt the pain of love, you were there for him. Encouraging him, leading him to your strength, and showing him his true potential.

Not the potential of the tadpoles but his own power both his natural talents and the power the orb allows him to tap into.

Though your heart is to another… You made room for him. He is not one to share or be shared, Mystra at the time was all he needed. Yet, in this chaotic turn of events, he finds himself slowly opening to the idea. Well, mainly to be able to be touched by you.

"I'll take care of you, promise." Your words like slik sliding across his naked skin, "Anything you desire. Be selfish, my little wizard." Your eyes looking into him with the shine he has only seen you give Astarion, desire.

It is not the desire to control or to see him crumble, but the desire for Gale to take all that is offered to him and more.

Astarion promised a night of hedonistic debauchery, Gale had not thought it meant by the end of the night you would be in bed with him under you.

The magic, your magic, is cold and unfamiliar– Ancient and forbidden. You draw him into the darkness with no stars or colorful nebula, you bring him into the void.

"Let us create our own paradise together."

Both in the material plane and this pocket of something beyond himself, you treat him as an equal. An… Equal.

You reach deep inside of him, your magic drawing out the power of the orb, you calm him with your presence as he fears what is happening.

The void is filled by light, his light.

Gale doesn't realize he is still alive until he is gasping for air in reality and you are still on his lap. Your aura, your power interlinking with his. He looks around and his body is transparent, full of stars and colors.

"How are you doing this?"

"You aren't the only one to use magic in the bedroom. I however use a different method: the soul. In our purist form, we bare our truths. Do not fear it."

How can he not!? The orb, his curse, his mistake could kill you! 

"Heh, trust in yourself. You need not fear your beautiful power."

Beautiful. You told him once how you envied the beauty of his mastery of the weave.

"I… Trust you." He still doesn't know if he can trust himself.

You smile and nod, "Let us work with that for now."

And you do, in your hands, you hold this wizard who was broken by a Goddess who is undeserving of this man. A mortal who flew too high to the sun hoping to prove his love.

Now you have him, in your hands with claws caging him in your love.

You do not bind his soul tonight, instead, you bind his emotions and body to you.

You can taste the completion of the domination of Baldur’s Gate.

Sex is amazing, good old-fashioned flesh upon flesh. Gale is very repressed and you praise him for trying to keep up with your lust for him.

"Please cum inside of me." Sure he does not want to cum first but you want him to fill you with his seed. He deserves a good thing, a wonderful night, to surrender to bliss Astarion promised you can bring him.

His fine-cut nails leave crescent marks on your waist, his chest hurts from how hard his breathing. Your cold magic soothes him as you moan so deliciously, "Yes, let go. Fall, my love."

If you are some sort of devil of desire sent to steal his soul and mind; well you have it!

"Now that's a look." Gale looks drunk, dazed, happy, "Gale." Kissing him as you ride out your own bliss.

There is a triumphant grin on your face as you both lay in bed, Gale fast asleep and his magic tainted by your influence. You have broken Mystra's hold over him. Impossible but you lived long enough to break and bind oaths and puppet strings of Gods. You trace his chest, the orb slumbering.

Astarion will join you later, Gale still needs time to get used to this sharing concept.

[y-rhywbeth2]

Gods & Clergy: Selûne

Link: Disclaimer regarding D&D "canon" & Index [tldr: D&D lore is a giant conflicting mess. Larian's lore is also a conflicting mess. You learn to take what you want and leave the rest]

Religion | Gods | Shar | Selûne | Bhaal | Mystra | Jergal | Bane #1 | Bane #2 | Bane #3 | Myrkul | Lathander | Kelemvor | Tyr | Helm | Ilmater | Mielikki | Oghma | Gond | Tempus | Silvanus | Talos | Umberlee | Corellon | Moradin | Yondalla | Garl Glittergold | Eilistraee | Lolth | Laduguer | Gruumsh | Bahamut | Tiamat | Amodeus | The rest of the Faerûnian Pantheon --WIP

I should probably compile some lore on gods who aren't evil messes for a change... Then right back into the evil nonsense with Shar.

Worshippers & Clergy: All are equal and personal freedom and tolerance of other ways of life is very important. Also something-something motherhood. Now if you'll excuse me: "o, White Night Lady, guideth mine eye to wherever the hells mine keys that I had literally five seconds ago art?"

Silverstars: You can make an amazing amount of things out of moonlight, really.

Selûne: The Anti-Shar. She's kind of a spoonie.

-

"Let all on whom Selûne's light falls be welcome if they desire. As the silver moon waxes and wanes, so too does life. Trust in Selûne's radiance, and know that all love alive under her light shall know her blessing. Turn to the moon, and she will be your true guide. Promote acceptance and tolerance. See all other beings as equals. Aid fellow Selûnites as if they were your dearest friends." - Selûne's Dogma.

Selûne's worshippers come from all sorts: people who work the night shift, and other people seeking protection from Shar; travellers and navigators who will be navigating using the night sky; sailors; female mages; diviners and people hoping for a glimpse of the future; and lycanthropes who want to resist the influence of their curse. Selûne is also considered associated with femineity and is something of a mother goddess, and is worshipped by women, particularly mothers and couples trying to conceive.

In every day life one might call on her if they're lost, or to find misplaced objects and such - for example, where the hells have the house keys gone?

Female mages born under a full moon are considered to carry her blessing.

The moon waxes and wanes and may show itself in a vast array of colours and shapes; so is the moon goddess as inherently mercurial. Her faces are many and never the same, and so her follows are many and no two are the same.

There are only a few concrete rules of the faith. All people are equal and should be made welcome and treated with dignity. Shar's predations must be combated wherever you uncover them. One should always give healing freely to those who need it. The lonely and ostracised should be offered friendship and care.

The faith is extremely, proudly diverse, and Selûne places very few demands upon her followers in exchange for her blessings. There is no "right" way to worship the Moonmaiden, individuality and customisation in religious practices in encouraged.

-

Her clergy promotes acceptance of different ways of life and follows a lose hierarchy with emphasis on personal freedom.

The clergy have no uniform, save their holy symbol (a pair of eyes surrounded by seven stars, in silver), and they dress how they see fit. Moonstones are popular. When dressed for battle they can often be recognised by the iconic weapon known as the moon's hand - a footman's mace with a smooth head.

Even her temples follow no set structure, one may find a temple of the Night White Lady is a massive cathedral, a small roadside shrine, or a circle of standing stones on top of the village hill where her followers go to dance under the moonlight. "Anywhere the full moon shines is a place for [worshipping] Selûne."

Clergy are known collectively as Mooncloaks (informally) and Ladyservants (formally). A variety of titles exist within the church. The loose ranks of experience are as follows: those who are interested in joining but have not yet entered training are Postulants, Novices are referred to as the Called. Runrae (singular: Runra) are fully trained priests.

One of the Called becomes a Runra when they are assigned a simple task in the form of a low-level quest where they're expected to show that they have learnt the lessons of their faith. When successful, Selûne contacts them in their dreams via a vision, and they are a priest.

Ranks ascend into Alrunrae, Tenembrae, Sartembrae, Trintelrae, Aumrae, and finally the Calunalae.

A Calunala is an independent agent who maintains close personal ties with the goddess, essentially serving as her secret agents in the war against Shar.

Priests tend to wander Faerûn, making a living by offering their services as navigators (especially if you're traveling by night) and fortune tellers (there are no diviners more accurate than a Selûnite). There are no restrictions about whatever work they want to do to support themselves, and travelling mooncloaks can be found in part time jobs blacksmithing, weaving, farming, serving tables... They're also prepared to fight against Sharrans and lycanthropes, whenever and wherever they cause harm.

Not infrequently, a mooncloak will receive missions and holy duties - sometimes from higher ranking priests, and often from Selûne herself. Whenever she sets them a task, the Moonmaiden usually grants them temporary spells and abilities to aid them. With their siblings in the faith alway ready to aid them, and their goddess personally lending her aid, Selûne's clergy often give the optimistic opinion that "The Moon waxes and wanes, and fortunes of the holy folk of the Moon rise and fall - but the Moon is ever with us, sailing on no matter how dark the sky."

Selûnites traditionally charge very little for their services, save for a place to sleep for the night and a warm meal, and maybe any few coins you can afford to spare. They have a reputation for kindness, open-mindedness and generosity that makes their faith very popular.

Selûne personally encourages her clergy to be self-reliant, kind and humble, but also wants to see them live lives they're happy in.

As stated, Selûnite rituals are highly customised and tend to be unique to the priest in question. Generally they are performed in the open under the moonlight and involve dancing and meditating. Offerings of milk or wine are poured on Selûnite altars during the full and new moons. If the priest is in the godess' good graces then she will cause the libation to transform into moonfire - an "opalescent, glowing fluid with the consistency of custard." It's described as feeling silk-soft to the touch. The touch of the moonfire as it flows down the altar may enchant objects or bestow powers upon the things and beings it touches, as per the will of Selûne (it can also destroy undead). On ritual nights, her priests cast commune in order to socialise with their goddess and reaffirm their personal connection with her.

There are two holy days: the Mystery of the Night and the Conjuring of the Second Moon.

The Mystery of the Night is performed once a year by every priest (it has no set day, it occurs whenever the priest in question holds it). The priest lies before an altar of the Moonmaiden and slips into a trance. They fly upwards and spiral the moon, communing with Selûne via an exchange of visions. This ritual is extremely taxing, but the priest will quickly recover with rest.

The Conjuring of the Second Moon occurs once every four years during Shieldmeet, and is generally a day when the church goes to war with the church of Shar. To aid them, priests summon Shards to do their beings - celestials who take the form of blue-haired, winged warrior women who serve Selûne (equivalent to planetars in power). At the end of the day, one mortal priestess will leave with them to join their ranks.

Religious orders in service of the Moonmaiden include the Swords of the Lady (also known as "Lunatics" behind their back). They're a fanatical order of warriors dedicated to combating Shar and her worshippers.

The Oracles of the Moon are an organisation of female mages, specialising in divination, who dedicate themselves to Selûne's service.

The Order of the Sun Soul is a monastic order that worships Selûne and Lathander.

Specialty priests are known as Silverstars.

They can see in the dark perfectly for up to 30ft.

They can create blades made of moonlight, wieldable only by the silverstar that made it. The blade causes no visible damage to living beings, but it does sap their life force and disrupt magic, preventing mages from casting. The flesh of undead visibly melts away under its touch.

They can raise or lower the levels of bodies of water, akin to the effects of the tide.

They can fire small meteors (shooting stars) from their hands, in an effect much like fireballs. They explode on impact.

A Silverstar infected with lycanthropy has control over their transformations, and Selûne protects them from being damaged by silver.

They can also shape moonlight into a wall - the wall is intangible, but it illuminates its surroundings, dispelling magical darkness. It will cause harm to any with evil intent, and followers of Shar (or Umberlee), as well as any undead being that passes through it. Magical items on the person of an individual who passes through will glow red, drawing attention to them, and magical potions will explode.

Stairs and bridges can also be crafted from moonlight, which can reach up to 15ft in length. While standing on the bridge, individuals are protected from enchantments, life-draining effects and missiles. It's impossible to knock them off of the bridge.

Finally they can shape the light into a net that protects a specific area. The strands are visible only to the priests, the goddess and those under the spell's protection. Everything else - intruders, weapons and magic - that enters the area is forced back to its point of origin. Attacks will be rebounded.

-

Selûne is a Chaotic Good deity. Her realm is in the Gates of the Moon, on the plane of Ysgard.

She doesn't care about ritual and dogma or how observant of these practices her followers are, as long as they are able to support themselves, fulfilled in life and will offer kindness to others. The spirit of faith is more important to Our Lady of Silver than the scriptures of religion.

Sometimes she is taken by a joyful, energetic mood. Sometimes she is a quiet, caring and maternal figure, prone to poetic moods. Whichever mood she's in, she carries herself with an underlying sense of grief that seems millennia old. Selûne is slow to anger and prefers to avoid fights, but that changes rapidly when she comes into conflict with her sister, and there she displays a side to herself that is much more warlike. She also opposes Umberlee on behalf of sailors and others who live by the sea. When in conflict with her enemies Selûne is merciless.

Selûne was (apparently) born of the primordial essence of the universe, one half of the Two-Faced Goddess with her twin, Shar. Together they created the planetary bodies of the solar system, including the Earthmother, Chauntea.

When Chauntea begged for warmth to nurture life upon her, the Two-Faced goddess experienced conflicting desire for the first time. Selûne was willing to grant the Earthmother her wish, but for Shar, the very concept was a horrifying antithesis to her very being.

The argument between the two spawned the concepts (and gods) of destruction; such as war, disease and death/murder. Eventually, Selûne reached into the Elemental Plane of Fire and drew a portion of it into Realmspace, and fashioned it into the sun - a process that burned her.

Shar's rage doubled, and she began to snuff out every light she could find in the universe, causing Selûne to tear out a part of her own essence and fashion it into a weapon that she threw at Shar in defence of the newborn life of Realmspace. This portion of Selûne passed through Shar and formed itself into the Weave - the goddess Mystryl (who would one day be called Mystra). Mystryl sided with Selûne, and Shar was forced to concede defeat now that she was utterly outnumbered.

This battle has left Selûne permanently weakened, and her strength waxes and wanes much like the phases of the moon. The two sisters continue their argument - and Shar is boldest when her sister is at her weakest.

The Moonmaiden's avatar takes the form of a human woman, with various appearances, her age generally conforming to one of the maiden, mother, crone concepts. In one of her more matronly, middle-aged forms she enjoys walking the realms, and curiously has decided to open an inn in Waterdeep using this form, unbeknownst to many. Her apparent health depends on the state of the moon, while it wanes she appears sicker and closer to death. Regardless of its phase, she glows faintly with moonlight in the darkness.

Her lesser manifestations include dancing trails of little lights known as "moondust" or "moon motes." She manifests these to people who are lost at night, or traveling over dangerous ground that they can't perceive. She will also provide them for her faithful, when they require a light source to perform an important task but have no way to see.

Her messengers and servants include owls, weredragons and other lycanthropes and shapeshifters, and her Shards.

For a while, prior to the Time of Troubles, she worked under the goddess of love, Sune. She later went her own way and resumed operating as an independent deity, but maintains a close relationship with Sune and Lliira.

[obsessedwithgale]

Why Gale's tale resonates so deeply

I've been pondering this for quite some time, even before I set up this blog, and I've finally mustered the words to share my thoughts. Although this blog primarily serves as a haven for fangirling over Gale, I've decided to open up about something more personal.

So, what's the crux of the matter? This is my take on why the Wizard resonates so deeply with me. Many players connect with characters, whether it's Astarion or others, and for me, Gale is especially relatable. The irony lies in the fact that the criticism surrounding this character actually enhances my experience.

Gale endured a romantic relationship with a significant power imbalance. He loved a woman idolized by many, feeling special to be her chosen partner. Although the dynamics of their relationship may have been non-monogamous, that's beside the point. What's crucial is the portrayal of a man with an immense heart yearning for love, tethered to a partner who prioritized obedience over genuine affection. The overwhelming feeling of inadequacy led him to make a risky decision for someone he believed loved him back. The result was heartbreak, and instead of love and support, his partner treated him callously, leaving him alone and devastated, with her followers aware of the betrayal.

Gale's heart shattered, and his health prevented him from healing. Consequently, he frequently mentions her at the start of our journey. She burned and destroyed him, leaving scars on his heart and psyche. When he reveals he dated a goddess, companions are amazed but fail to see the broken man beneath the surface. Only Mystra's intervention, sending Elminster as a messenger, makes them realize he was the victim.

Not everyone receives the grace of being recognized as the true victim; some remain perceived as the villain in many memories.

Following Gale's personal story, delving into his suicidal thoughts and discovering the untainted pieces of himself, was cathartic for me. Witnessing a man who couldn't recognize his worth find someone who loved him, scars and all, was beautiful.

Now, the Baldur's Gate 3 fandom seems to miss this message. They only pay attention when he mentions Mystra and find him annoying when he passionately shares his thoughts. They overlook the chronic pain, depression, and the harrowing message from his omnipotent lover. Sometimes I wonder if we're playing the same game or if they choose what to see. The community reduce to the way he handles his depression (deflecting and humour), and not for the horror he clearly hasn't processed.

While other characters accept their pasts and trauma bomb you, Gale is still in denial. Facing the truth is challenging; it's easier to blame oneself, right?

TL;DR: Gale resonates with me due to his trauma denial, coping mechanisms for depression and suicidal thoughts, and how he, despite being the clear victim in a relationship, is portrayed as the villain due to the overwhelming power and influence of the other person.

I adore this man, and learning the Leadwriter didn't get the message about Gale is disheartening.

[micropoe10]

𝐀 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐕𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐭🏵

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏: 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐌𝐚𝐧

Before Tav and Tadpoles, there was just a man, his goddess, and the desire to serve her no matter the cost. Gale Dekarios was her chosen, her pupil, her lover. But what was she to him?

A goddess bound by duty, a woman haunted by her past, and the man who taught her to love again.

I was inspired to lore dive into the goddess Mystra after seeing this gorgeous piece of art by the wonderfully talented @ssalballoon 🏵

I was determined to learn as much as I could about the goddess of magic and weave a story of a time before she became the most hated diety in all of Faerun.

Edited by the amazing @editing-by-night thank you for everything! And for putting up with my grammar and my questions. 🏵

And to @brabblesblog without you, this story would still be in limbo! Thank you for holding my hand and gently pushing me through 🏵

The weave crackled and vibrated, its amethyst hues now tinged azure. Small radiant sparks lept from her fingertips as Mystra quickly retracted her hand. The energy that permeated the air sizzled. This was new magic, it was spectacular, brilliant, and messy. It fascinated and terrified her. The last time that she felt new magic, Netheril was falling from the heavens and her essence was sundered, leaving her old life behind. She shook her hands free of the new magic’s sensation. It was a cold, distant feeling as she pressed her thumbs to the pads of her other fingers. Her pensive gaze was locked on her fingers; the lingering pinprick sensation weighed heavily within them. 

She took a deep, calming breath, stretching her fingers before her as she called upon the weave again. She opened clouded eyes as vibrant swirls of amethyst and lavender flowed around her. The winds picked up, causing wisteria petals to fall from the trees above, cascading down upon her like a healing rain, cleansing her of the passionate thoughts that flowed through her mind. She could feel her concentration slipping as images of the night before came into view in a sultry haze. 

Tender lips trailed down her back, as page-worn hands gripped her hips pulling her to him. Their bodies entwined, wrapped in mulled-wine-colored satin and stardust. Two touch-starved souls consummating their love amongst the expanse of stars in the skies of Elysium exchanged hungry, breathless kisses.

Mystra gasped, her eyes flying open. Her heart raced, her palms were sweaty and there was a delicious slick heat pooling between her thighs that she couldn’t ignore. She noticed the weave no longer held its violet shades but had taken on the tranquil blues once again.

“Damnit!” She cursed. With an aggressive swipe of her hand, the weave dissipated into a fine mist. She stood there in the courtyard, covering her face. Her fingers softly kneaded away the tension in her forehead as she sighed in frustration.

“What are you doing, Mystra?” She questioned herself, or was it her sanity? With scarlet cheeks, she continued with the personal interrogation. “You told yourself, you promised Kelemvor that you wouldn’t do this again,” she groaned. “It’s as if you didn’t learn from the first time.” If only Kelemvor could see her now, would the lord of death be displeased by her actions? Her mind twisted to that hazy day they had shared in the gardens of Dweomerheart - her home.

On the outermost part of Eronia lay the glittering city of Dweomerheart, the opulent seat of knowledge and devotion to spellcraft, and the home of Faerun’s deities of magic. Set high into the rugged mountain terrain the city looked out upon the borders of the astral sea and the vast expanse of Elysium.

It was a day like any other as the goddess of magic walked the ivy-laden cloister of the Akademia. She stopped within the white granite courtyard to admire the bowing branches of the world tree that dared intrude upon her realm.

Mystra stood, arm outstretched, grasping a crystalline branch and wondering what world she held in her palm. What universe could be destroyed with a snap of her fingers or a flick of her wrist? She had been tasked to preserve magic and to preserve life alongside it, but mortal life was fickle and fleeting and she would only be helping it along.

The thought brought her more joy than it should and it was only the sound of quickening footsteps from behind her that broke her out of her rumination. She let the fragile branch slip from her fingertips to see one of her attendants approach her.

“My lady, the Lord of Death waits for you in the courtyard.” With that, they took quick leave and she retreated down the steps to greet her guest.

“I’m always pleasantly pleased when the goddess of magic herself deigns to permit me an audience. All the more surprised when I’m welcomed into your domain, my lady.” With a curt nod, Kelemvor bowed before her.

“There is no need to be so formal Kelemvor, we’re old friends are we not? Besides, I've called you here for a more personal matter entirely.” Mystra said, holding her hands in front of her. Her fingers found purchase, clasping onto the sleeves of her dress.

“That you should call me here for guidance and counsel. Your message sounded most urgent. I am truly honored. But do you not have others around you who may better understand whatever it is that troubles you?” His question rang true, she did have others whom she could confide in, but none that would give her an honest answer without fear of angering her. No, she didn't want answers that were pleasing to her, she wanted a solid answer even if she objected to it. Which she most likely would.

“I’ve taken upon myself another chosen.” She didn't miss a beat as she got straight to the point. She did not meet his gaze at first, her eyes downcast. 

“Oh? Do you not still have that aging wizard doing your bidding?” He chuckled from under his hooded cloak, confused, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Who, Elminster? Well… well, of course, he is the most loyal of any chosen I’ve had. But I am the puppeteer to his marionette and if I cut the strings before I have someone new all I’ll have is a pile of old bones not even worth reanimation.” She said almost incredulously, waving a hand around like she was controlling the imaginary strings of an obedient puppet.

“Your chosen, Mystra…” Kelemvor wandered around the courtyard contemplating his words carefully, pausing to pour a glass of ambrosia wine. “With your presence, the weave needs not another chosen to hold the balance. I don't want to see you hurt again.” Kelemvor’s tone shifted, his tattered robes dragged against the stone walkway as he continued to move about the gardens.

“My chosen are not your concern, nor is the weave. The individuals that I choose are there to uphold balance within the weave. Their power is astronomical, their knowledge far superseding scholars.”

“And your chosen… this time?” He sat in a chair opposite where she was standing.

She eased at his question, even taking a seat across from him. “Gale..Dekarios of Waterdeep. He shows extraordinary power and has had an understanding of the weave from an early age, Kelem! Elminster found him when he was but eight, Eight! He’s older now. Easier to mold..to teach.” she sighed, pressing a hand to her abdomen to calm her nerves

“You mean that it’ll be easier to convince him to bed his goddess without rhyme or reason?” Kelemvor prodded.

“Is that really what you think I do? I’m not some common prostitute, I don’t whore out my magic. What happened then won’t hap…”

“I don’t want you to make the same mistake Mystra, what happened with Karsus was preventable. But you thought you could change him, mold him. You even bedded him once, didn't you? He was only ever in love with your power, and…” Mystra’s voice cut him off.

“You tread on dangerous ground Kelemvor!” The wind whipped through the buildings, and trees creaked as her face hardened. Her fingers dug into her palms. The air was thick with the weave’s choking grasp. “What happened with him was an oversight. I was foolish, I’ll admit it, but none of us were prepared and…”

“You,” Kelemvor interjected swiftly.

“What?” Mystra said, taken aback. The winds calmed.

“You weren’t prepared for him. You were dead Mystra. The weave was in disarray, the crown gone.” Mystra shook her head, her lips pursed with a look of pain and malice, but he continued. “You opened yourself up, gave yourself freely to a man you thought you could change, one you could trust. One of your ‘chosen’’. The balance of Elysium is still fragile even after all these years…and the scales are not in your favor. You need to tread carefully.” 

Kelemvor leaned across the table to lift her chin to stare into the iris eyes of one that had seen so much of the world. She leaned into him, her lips mere inches from his. “All mortals are the same, Mystra, you can’t change them. They are ambitious, greedy creatures. For as long as we’ve known each other, mortal and god alike have craved your power the most. I’m afraid, dear friend, that it is you who are the puppet. And if you’re not careful, someone will cut your strings, and that might be all it takes.”

Her breath caught in her throat. She could feel his icy touch cooling her flesh where his hand rested upon her cheek. “You’re wrong Kelem. I’ve watched him grow, his grasp on magic far supersedes any of the others that have pledged themselves to my service. Gale Dekarios is nothing like Karsus and I’ll prove it. He WILL be my next chosen.” She stood and pushed away from the table then past her old friend, a look of wilful defiance in her eyes as she batted away his hand.

“And what if you’re wrong, about the Dekarios boy?” He asked calmly, turning to look at her. Mystra froze, her fists clenching. “He’s just a man, a mortal, they make mistakes almost as much as we do.”

“I won’t make the same mistake a second time Kelem. He shows promise, I’ll do better. I won’t fall for him. I can’t afford more setbacks; I have too many enemies on my heel.  But if you need reassurance, if he fails me…I’ll find some way to kill him myself.” Mystra walked out of the garden, leaving Kelemvore to sip his drink in silence.

“Good morning,” Gale whispered, scratching at the back of his messy head and sliding his fingers through his chestnut locks. His hand settled on the back of his neck and he tilted his head to look at her from across the small courtyard. His words dragged her out of the memory with a heavy heart and an exhausted smile. 

“Good morning Gale,” she purred, her back still to him as she quickly wiped a rogue tear from her cheek. 

Gale ran the back of his fingers up her arm as he stood behind her on the balcony. Her fingers lay elegantly splayed out on the granite balustrade, as if ready to conduct an orchestral symphony betwixt the weave and stars. He felt her body quiver as she exhaled softly between parted lips. He leaned in closer, his hand sliding down, slowly dragging the strap of her gossamer silk dress off her shoulder. His nose tickled the outer shell of her ear and he felt her heat radiate there. Hot and steady breath ghosted her skin as he dragged his tongue fervently against the crook of her neck, kissing her tender flesh. 

Her eyes fluttered closed. Behind them, she could see streaks of iridescent violet and lustrous hues of amethyst. Her breath quickened, releasing an enraptured moan.

“Stop!” she exclaimed, stifling the moan almost as quickly as it escaped her. She pulled away from him, rolling her shoulders back and taking a deep breath to calm herself. “You’ve grown too bold, Gale.” Her words were filled with a sad longing as she spoke to him from over her shoulder.

“If I took too many liberties, I apologize. It’s just that after last night I thought...well, I assumed this would be fine.” Gale spoke softly and with a wry smile, He stepped toward her as she turned to face him.

“You think I don’t long to feel your hands upon me? To breathe in the sickeningly intoxicating smell of mahogany and parchment from your skin?” Her breath quivered, her heart raced and her chest heaved as he looked up at her with the same desire that had been present last night.

“Mystra...”

“I would be lying if I said that I didn’t enjoy it, Gale, but it never should have happened. I can’t do this again!  I made a promise I wouldn’t do it aga…” The panic set in and her composure slipped its almost near unbreakable defenses. Gale gently took her face in his hands and she slipped her hands between them, pressing them against his chest.

“Mystra..breathe.” Small petals fell around them as he thumbed away the tears from the corners of her eyes. He pulled a petal from the braided crown on top of her head. “You know wisteria symbolizes long life and even love.” He looked at her as she scoffed.

“Love…you think that’s easier for me because I’m a goddess? Like I’m given a choice? My first and only love will ALWAYs be the weave, it has to be! What we did last night was not love. Lust, desire even, I'll grant you that much, but not love. The sooner you learn the difference, the better off we’ll both be. Don’t disappoint me, Gale.”

Tag List: @brabblesblog @capraqueen @kasumitanart @tallymonster @ssalballoon @troutsoup @tragedybunny @astarioffsimpmain @nightmarecait @bunnidarling @iizuumi @acystreia

If anyone else wants to be tagged please let me know!! I will figure out how to get this up on Ao3 soon I swear!! Yes, I also took some lore liberties and changed a few minor things. TWs to be added once I figure out what they will be.

[avelera]

I am absolutely 100% a “Gale Dekarios (of Waterdeep) does not have a six pack” truther. It makes no goddamn sense. The guy has been in a depression coma for months if not years, chowing down on Weave magic and an A+ kitchen with only his books and his cat for company. The dude has an 8 Strength score, the lowest the damn game allows. No way. No fucking way. The game avatar of him with abs is lying.

My theory is either:

1) Gale is casting a glamour on himself. And why not? He’s an accomplished wizard, it’s a minor illusion. He might even have a cheap ring to do it or something. Why should an Archmage be bound to a gym routine when a minor cantrip will allow you to look your dashing best?

2) Mystra did it. Yes, and continues to mold his appearance even after they broke up. Look at Elminster, another past boy toy of hers. He might be old but he’s bearded, and smart (just like Gale), and most of all skinny despite talking about nothing but food from the second you meet him. In this theory, Mystra holds her lovers to a certain standard of beauty, and being a former lover doesn’t change that. Her lovers, current and past, are by definition smart and fit. If they’re men, they’re bearded. She’s got a type and she’s a goddess. It might barely be a conscious choice on her part to mold them, it’s just what happens to mortals who end up in a god’s inner circle.

(This is where the headcanon of Gale gaining a bunch of weight after he and Mystra finally amicably part ways and she removes the orb comes from. Poor Gale suddenly learning to his chagrin that you can’t just be a sedentary book worm with an amazing kitchen and continue to look like an ancient statue of perfect starved physique, whoops!)

3) Maybe Gale’s body is drained of calories by the orb and maybe all the adventuring is getting him back in shape and maybe his depression coma in the tower involved not eating much and it is all real…. But honestly, I find this the least likely option unless Gale coped with the breakup by installing a home gym and just exercising sadness away between bouts of snacking on magic boots.

[clericofgale]

Gale and Mystra: The artist and his goddess

I've been trying to collect my ever-evolving thoughts about Mystra and Gale. His relationship to Mystra is multi-faceted. Goddess(physical manifestation of your passion/worship), teacher, muse, liege, lover. Gale loves Mystra in many different "types" of love. It's not only romantic love.

I'm very intrigued about viewing them through the lens of viewing Gale as an artist and Mystra as art in physical being.

I sincerely believe Gale is very much an artist, and a very passionate one at that. He's talented the same way that some people are born with perfect pitch or amazing color sense. Doing magic using Mystran weave is called "The Art" after all.

Mystra seems infinite in wisdom, the beauty of the weave made manifest in physical form. The weave, the art, his passion, his love. He has loved the Art all his life, now it's showing affection and...eventually taking him to bed. Remember the astral scene? That's how being with her felt. You're all but one with the weave, with magic, with *Her*. You're closer to the Art than ever before, and you can see it so clearly. You'd do anything to cling onto this, and perhaps even hope for more access. It should be no surprise that he burns himself in the pursuit of art.

[baldurs-gape]

Hello! I just finished your fic Shores and wanted to let you know I‘m working on fanart for chapter 7. You have a wonderful writing style and it was a fun read! https://www.tumblr.com/twicethekid/754939992930926592/wip-making-another-barbie-to-dress-up-inspired?source=share

Not going to lie, I have been thweeping like an idiot over this. Art, wonderful, amazing, talented art was inspired by my little story?! Do you have any idea how utterly mind blowing that is?! This is basically the highlight of my year, nay decade! I don't know quite how to put into words my delight and thanks. So I'll fall back on my usual method and offer you a ficlet in the hopes it brings you some joy. This one's been on my mind for a little while because some of Gale's lines in the game are unhinged no matter what angle you look at them from.

Unleash Me

Devotion was the thing most gods sought in their followers. Not just to themselves but to their cause, a dedication that went beyond worship and strayed into fanaticism. It formed the basis of who became their Chosen, those who excelled and Gale did indeed excel. Not only did he have a gift with the Weave, he pursued perfection with a single-minded focus. Of course he caught Mystra's attention. She reveled in his determination, his ability to step on anyone to get what he wanted and have no remorse about it. He was ruthless, stubborn and did as Mystra asked because it was the path to the top.

The problem with gods was they didn't think mortals were ever more than crumbs on the tablecloth of time. They were fascinating at times, useful at others but nothing more than a speck. Sometimes those specks needed a bit more guidance, a tighter leash and Gale was one such speck. His thirst for ultimate control was heady but relentless. Mystra laid out rules, laws for him to keep him in his place. No meddling with the Shadow Weave. No searching for lost parts of the Weave from when it shattered. Yet Gale was insatiable. He pestered, begged, snooped around despite her stern warnings. Even bedding Gale, taking him as a lover was only enough to quiet his curiosity for a mere few years. Only when he returned with the Karasite Weave did Mystra understand her own failure and her willingness to overlook the danger Gale posed in favour of luxuriating in his devotion. Truthfully, Gale didn't worship Mystra, he worshipped her power.

There was only one thing Mystra could do. The Karasite Weave embedded in Gale's chest stripped him of so much of his abilities, ate away at what he valued the most. It should have humbled him, broken him and put him back in his place as nothing more than a mortal who enjoyed the favours of a goddess. The plan was all well and good but Gale had a knack for going against almost everything anyone ever tried to foist onto him. Mindflayers, nautiloids, tadpoles and a collection of strangers who all had their own brand of bloodthrist derailed all of Mystra's careful plotting.

The company Gale found himself in was, on the surface, polite, pleasant and rather average. Except they were all killers. Karlach had fought in the Blood Wars and was seething at Zariel, imagined the revenge she'd take for having her heart taken. By contrast, mild and proper mannered Wyll had stopped at nothing to get back in his father's good graces. Ridding the Swordcoast of evil, protecting the innocent, it all sounded so very noble. But the path he walked was drenched in blood and death as he executed justice the way he (and Mizora) deemed fit. Given that Shadowheart was a Sharran worshipper, no more needed to be said about her. Lae'zel was a warrior, a soldier who could be pointed at the enemy and deployed with lethal precision. Given how quick she was to abandon her lich queen in favour of supporting Orpheus' cause, she was as merciless as the rest of them. The last one left was Astarion, who revealed all too quickly his desire to kill Cazador for all he'd done over the last two centuries. In a way, Gale stood no chance.

In a camp full of people comfortable with killing, intent on helping each other achieve their goals of murder, revenge and redemption, Gale's hard learned lessons about remorse, boundaries and punishment melted away. As did his restraint. By the time they were storming the goblin camp he had looked Wyll in the eye and demanded "unleash me" with no hint of irony or joking. For some reason Wyll agreed to such a dramatic demand and they all lived with zero regrets. Unflinching, Gale killed indiscriminately, he even sent Astarion a cheeky grin and growled "let me recite their demise" before casting Shatter with devastating result. The only reason Minthara was knocked out rather than outright killed was because Karlach had bashed her over the head before Gale could get to her.

Perhaps that was why Astarion felt so at ease around Gale to the point that he even agreed to let the man tag along one night when he went hunting. Being an elf meant he already had better senses than humans. To put vampirism on top of that was to finehone something already well above average. Which was why he knew that Gale was aroused as he took down a boar. Maybe Astarion didn't help matters by trying to put on a bit of a show, enjoying the fact he didn't have to hide this part of himself, delighting in being appreciated for who he was.

"Next time I think I'll try for a bear," he announced casually.

Later, back at camp, he was somewhat smug at the fact Gale was frantically getting himself off. By human standards he was quiet, near enough silent but Astarion heard.

Storming Moonrise was about as intense as expected. Gale's soft growl of "death is but a word away" shouldn't have been as enticing as it was. Especially when it was followed by a shard of ice exploding and embedding in anyone unlucky enough to be in the vicinity. The thing that caught Astarion's attention was how Gale edged around the fight. Staying in the shadows and keeping out of the fray was not his style at all. Sure, he tended to stay at the edge more so he had room to work his spells and wasn't in easy reach of a hefty smack but this was different. Their eyes met and Gale smiled before dipping into the room the drow had been in. Curiosity got the better of Astarion, the others had a good handle on the fight. He followed.

Gale had Araj caught in the purple of Hold a Person, eyes dark with rage. Whatever he'd been saying, Astarion had clearly walked in on the tail end of it to only hear "-I don't appreciate such an attitude." Head slowly turning, he smiled at Astarion with the boyish charm of someone caught doing something naughty.

Something dark fluttered in Astarion's chest at the sight. "Just what is going on here? I don't play with my food."

"She's not worthy to be even considered such a thing." Smile darkening, Gale shrugged. "I didn't like how she dismissed your personhood and ignored your firm denial. Wanted to be sure she wasn't going to repeat the mistake again."

"So you were what, going to kill her?"

A shiver visibly passed through Gale as his eyes slipped shut for a brief moment. Gaze bright as he stared at Astarion, he inhaled. "You'd want me to kill for you?" He shook his head a little and cleared his throat. "Let me kill for you."

Five little words, 15 letters and yet they lit Astarion up like nothing before ever had. Swallowing thickly, he nodded.

"Do it."

"I speak, she burns," Gale rumbled and flicked a hand almost carelessly to fling a fireball. Neither of them watched Araj go down, too lost in a brutal kiss that left lips bruised and nicked by sharp teeth.

Foreheads resting together, Gale panted into their shared space. "I'd do it again if you asked."

"Really?"

"You know I'll ask."

"Direct me."

"Cazador."

"He'll be nothing but dust. His power will be yours to take."

Astarion kissed him again for that before pulling back but keeping his arms around Gale's shoulders, holding him close still.

"If I do, I'll want you by my side."

"As a spawn?"

"No. An equal. A god." Licking his lips, Astarion was fuelled by a strange frenzy. "I won't take less for a partner. Prove to me you want this. Take the Crown of Karsus. Kill Mystra."

For a moment everything froze. Gale's breathing halted, his eyes stared unblinking, lips parted.

"Whatever you need, you only have to ask."

Astarion kissed him again, battle be damned. They were going to have plenty more opportunities to bask in the blood of others. But this was the first time Astarion felt powerful, felt like he was worshipped. And when he ascended rather than Cazador, the only thing he could possibly want more than power was to be worshipped by a god. Yes, Gale was going to be perfect. They were going to be perfect.