#Wynleth Reiden

[thefallenangelsgang]

Since I just got there with Wynleth Take 2: Electric Boogaloo, this feels as good a time as any to say that in my first run, the morning after Gale's Act 2 Romance scene, Scratch had a gift for me...

...it was a Salami

[thefallenangelsgang]

As always, only half finished and kinda edited (as most of my bg3 writing is)

This is the Weave Lesson scene. I'm playing with using game dialogue and my own for kinda the first time for this maybe fic. I can't tell how it's going quite yet.

the only context you need for this scene is Gale spends his evenings practicing his spellbook in early levels and he gets frustrated at the pace he's crawling at. I have a fragment of this earlier in this scene where he slams his book onto his alchemy table (cause my game Gale was our potion brewer extraordinaire) and Wynleth hears glass breaking. its a passing mention in this.

(EDIT: there is something else. Wynleth describes being percieved directly by Lathander. This is a reference to her encounter with the god during her Paladin vows. I haven't ironed it out but the gist is she has spoken directly with the god once before)

I'm gonna also try a new way of formatting these posts.

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“Do you want to talk about it?”

Gale huffs and runs his hands through his hair. I can see the mental battle he’s losing behind his eyes. Eventually he gives in.

“I’ve been in touch with the Weave for as long as I can remember. It’s like music, poetry, physical beauty all rolled into one and given expression through the senses. Mastering it felt as natural as breathing air. So losing it now feels like another kick in a series of blows to my ego. I suppose that was half of it.” He brings up that projection again. “She meant to bring low again, to humble me.” 

Absent-mindedly, he begins to play with his earring and exactly who is hovering above his palm dawns on me like a crashing wave. 

“Mystra?” 

He nods an affirmative while gazing wistfully up at the goddess that spurned him. 

I don’t know what to say. 

“Her idols don’t do her justice.” The words leave my lips before I really think about them. It’s true though, they don’t. The ones I’ve seen depict a sensual woman, clothing and hair animated by the very Weave she commands. Sharp features and languid poses that reek of the male gaze and look nothing like how Gale presents her now. It’s almost shocking how simply he paints her. She could be just another beauty walking the streets of Baldur’s Gate. “They truly don’t,” Gale whispers back.

“I’m ashamed to admit, the way you speak of the Weave makes me almost jealous. It seems so infinite.” Poetry and music and beauty. He truly has a way with words if he can make me crave something when my magic feels like the kiss of sunlight after a dark winter. 

The light comes back in his eyes as I shift the conversation. “Divine power must feel almost… limiting in comparison. Being only allowed as much as your deity sees fit.” Mystra’s visage is gone again, momentarily forgotten for the time being. The “More than you know,” dies swiftly on my tongue. He does know and that is the problem.

He gets an idea. I can tell by the look in his eye and the mischievous smile on his face as he pushes up to rest on his elbow. “Would you like to learn?”

What?

“You could teach me?”

He’s actually grinning now which makes me feel better. He’s not hung up on all this bullshit that’s going on. “Oh yes. Here-” He shifts into a seated position and takes my hands. Together we stand and move to the open space in front of his tent. I can't help but laugh softly at how serious he looks as he positions me and motions for me to stay put.

He turns away and makes for the table he has set up for his alchemical pursuits to retrieve his spellbook, snapping away the beaker I heard fall earlier. Prestidigitation. Perhaps that’s what he’ll teach me. I’ve heard it's a very useful spell with many applications, quick clean up being one of them.

He thumbs through the tome until he finds what he’s looking for based on the way his face settles in a self-satisfied expression. “This is a simple spell for channeling the Weave. See here-” He says as he positions himself just behind me and runs his finger over the sigil drawn on the page.

It’s brain-bendingly complex for a “simple spell.” Even the most complex healing sigils or anointments I had to learn were markedly less intricate. But it’s beautiful the way the lines curl and intersect. 

“It is, isn't it?” 

I must have said it out loud. Gale’s eyes are shining, they're so bright. He truly loves this. “Could you explain this to me, what all of this means?” I say, running my finger across the same path he did. There seems to be a start and end to the figure that the movement traces.

He launches into an explanation I only half understand but follow with rapt attention. What I do glean is I was right about the beginning and end and the segments of the glyph refer to different parts of the spell. Somatic, Verbal, and Material. This one only has Somatic and Verbal.

“I hope that wasn’t too hard to follow. I’ll admit, some of this stuff requires prior knowledge of spell composition.” 

He looks sheepish as he pulls the book away and goes to set it down gently off to the side so he can continue to consult it from afar. It’s endearing, his concern.

“Some of it certainly went over my head but I’ve read political treatise and legalese so dense they make your head spin. I’m no stranger to asking questions and learning more.” 

That seems to assuage him. He shakes out his arms and gives a winning smile. “Are you ready?”

“After you master wizard,” I say with a playful bow.

He makes a gesture that is almost like theatrically flipping something over in his hands. I watch astutely as something seems to glow from between them. Then he gestures for me to mimic him. I try my best. It’s a lot less confident than his, but from the wideness of his grin I’ve done it satisfactorily enough. Then a shiver goes up my spine as a feeling begins to overtake me. Warmth and… something I cannot place. It’s different from the sunlight of Lathander, or Shadowheart’s healing, or the electric crackle when Gale casts something. I must rock back at the sensation because Gale’s hand is there to meet me at the small of my back. “That’s the Weave. Don’t be afraid. You get used to it.”

It does feel like poetry. It feels like looking up from prose that touches your soul and letting the words sink into your skin and bury themselves in the very marrow of your being. I close my eyes at the feeling and let it wash over me. “More things on Heaven and Earth…” I say as I open my eyes.

“Indeed,” Gale matches my conspiratorial whisper. “That was the Somatic component. Are you ready for the Verbal?” I nod. “Repeat after me. Ah-Thran Mystra-Ryl Kantrach-Ao.”

The words are strange on my tongue but then the feeling somehow compounds, doubling, tripling in intensity. Gale’s voice is hushed in my ear as he leans in and whispers, “Now I want you to picture in your mind the concept of Harmony. As true as you can.”

My mind wheels through various options. Things I’ve been taught are harmony. People living in peace together. Unwavering Devotion to the Morninglord. People singing different words and notes but bringing together something transcendent and beautiful. 

None of it seems to fit. 

Harmony is this. It’s sitting in a Druid’s Grove full of people who just want to survive, surrounded by nature and beauty and finding a moment of peace despite the hell of our reality. It’s taking precious minutes of our lives for an impromptu magic lesson in a discipline I am wholly unfamiliar with. It's Gale's patience and my eagerness and this feeling rolling over me in waves. 

My hand finds Gale’s as a pulse of energy issues forth. 

An energy field envelops us. It plays with our clothes like a breeze in the absence of any detectable current. Weave. Purple and blue and as fine as spun sugar. It tastes sweet and floral and electric in a good way. 

Poetry and music and beauty all rolled into one. Gale has never been more right.

“It’s beautiful Gale.”

“That doesn’t even begin to describe it.” He muses, his eyes reflecting the beautiful light surrounding us.

“No. No it doesn’t, I choke out around an incredulous laugh. I feel the urge to weep and laugh and dance all at once. This is incredible.

Instead, we stand like this- Gale’s hand pressed against my back and his other clasped in mine- breathing in what feels to me like the cosmos for some time. 

“Do you feel her? Watching over us?” A reverent tone has taken over his voice as Gale breaks our reverie. Calling attention to it suddenly helps me put the feeling into words. We are being perceived by Mystra of all things. It’s a strange feeling, different than it was being perceived by Lathander. This is less direct, more idle than anything. It’s the comfort of knowing she is there. She is watching over us and keeping us safe. Tangible reassurance that your faith is not misplaced. This is a prayer answered.

“Thank you,” I say with a squeeze of my hand. We are making the most direct eye contact we have this entire encounter. No more passing glances that happen to meet or gazing at the other as they experience the majesty unfolding around us. Connection, true connection this time. 

“For what?” Gale breaths, like he truly doesn’t know what a gift this is. 

“For teaching me. For giving me a taste of what you experience everyday. For opening my eyes to this.” My free hand gestures around us and I mean to follow with my eyes but find I cannot tear them away. Gale looks so alive when surrounded by magic, in a way he isn’t when he is pursuing other things. It suits him handsomely. 

It sinks in exactly how intimate this moment is, the two of us connected not only by touch but by the very Weave itself. I could take a thousand nights just like this one and never tire. And what I would do for a lifetime of conversations about subjects like this one! Strolling arm in arm learning from each other. I am half-convinced even a lifetime wouldn’t be enough.

As if in the same breath,  I am filled by an almost innate sense of how beautiful I look lit by the Weave. The way my green eyes compliment the hues of purple and blue and the copper of my hair stands out against the ethereal backdrop. It’s a strange and discordant thought. Not mine.

I think we both realize at the same time that they aren’t our thoughts, that perhaps the tadpoles have pulled a fast one on us or even the Weave has something to do with it. We both blush in unison and impressively. 

And then we laugh. 

Gale’s laugh is always loud and rapturous. Barking would be a good way to describe it. But it’s pleasant and jovial. It feels right every time I hear it. I get the sense mine is musical in the way horn instruments are. Not like peeling bells, but brassy and boisterous and unladylike. That makes sense, my grandmother hated my laugh. It was too masculine and unbecoming of a daughter of a noble house, my culturally masculine social position be damned. Which is a damn shame, it is a nice laugh. 

“I- Um- Well.” Gale clears his throat, still blushing. “Unexpected consequences. Not unwelcome ones! But unexpected all the same.” I’m still laughing, gently now. “There is no harm. I’m glad someone likes my laugh.” Gale blushes impossibly harder.

In a swift movement, like a breeze blowing smoke away, the spell dissipates. It’s almost frigid in it’s absence, or maybe it’s the act of Gale stepping away that brings the chill. I refuse to let him release my hand though.

“There it goes. As fleeting as the dawn, wouldn’t you agree?” He smiles at me, pleased at his metaphor. 

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[thefallenangelsgang]

Snippet Sunday/Last Line Challenge

"As is custom, tag games are never played on the day of the week they are named after or within a respectable timeframe after being tagged."

-Tumblr Tenet Number 378 /sarcasm

Anyways, I got Snippet-ed. Snipped? @fablewritesnonsense snipped me. And I procrastinate horrifically so this is like weeks late and not even on a Sunday. I'll put the last line for y'all to appreciate here and the Snippet-e-doo beneath a break. oh my god can you tell it's been a day?

From what will be chapter one of my BG3 Fic (I had an idea for a name the other day. that means the brain rot has gone terminal):

Shadowheart is looking at me queerly.

No Stress Tags! @helena-bug @druidgroves @heylittleriotact (super no stress for you mon frere. a writing hiatus is a hiatus, but just in case you want to work on something else/share a recent)

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Make haste, Reiden. The city depends on this.

“RHETT?”

A wracking cough brings me to my knees. Damn it all! Where is that girl? 

I scream her name out again, not caring that it's tearing my throat up. 

The Grand Duke is alive.

Wasn't it dark when the ship came down? How long have I been out? Where is Rhett?

Go to Waterdeep.

A laugh bubbles up out of me into the quiet air. I don't know where I am. How the fuck am I going to get to Waterdeep? We just fell out of the fucking sky, and I don't know how I survived, and Rhett could be dead, and I don't know where I am!

A breath.

And then another.

Then, let's figure it out.

It's not dark anymore, so stars are a no-go. The sun is hanging above the horizon. If it's rising, then that's East. If it’s setting, then it's West. If I can figure out that, I'll have the cardinal directions. If I have that, I can-

I don't know what I can do with that. 

I’m surrounded by debris and acrid, smoking fires. I landed on a beach but wandered when I realized Rhett hadn't landed with me. I’m not sure where I am. It's nothing but great fleshy walls and plumes of black smoke surrounding me. Everything looks the same. 

Fuck it.

“RHETT?”

Hands on my shoulders. Panic. We grapple as I twist to face my opponent. Dark hair and silver armor. Pale face. Bloodshot eyes.

“Stop! Stop! It’s me!”

My hand stills against the armored woman’s cheek, where I was attempting to leverage out of her unyielding grip on my shoulders. It’s not her. It’s not Rhett. It’s the half-elf from the ship. The one we pulled from the pod. 

The pale girl drops her hold to step away, giving me room to breathe. Shadow-something was her name. Shadow… Gods, she made a gesture that I would have smiled at in different circumstances, bringing her fist to that onyx inlay over her- Shadowheart! She brought her fist to her heart, and the irony almost won over the fear for a moment while we were hurtling through the Hells. Her name is Shadowheart!

Shadowheart is looking at me queerly.

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Bonus Meme

Shadowheart, looking at Wynleth:

[thefallenangelsgang]

Wynleth Take 2: Electric Boogaloo is not going very well thank you for asking

[thefallenangelsgang]

...I did ALL* of the first half of Act 1 (completed the Tiefling Party) in 5 (FIVE!!!) in-game days...

*and I mean everything except for the spiders under the blighted village because I have arachnophobia, fuck that.

[thefallenangelsgang]

FUCK I'VE NEVER WISHED I DIDN'T WRITE IN FIRST PERSON MORE

So I've been writing a scene (half completed version here) for a few days now that takes place during the Tiefling Refugee party. It's a conversation about sex, full stop.

The idea came to me because when I played the first time all of the girls wanted my Tav carnally at the party and were not being shy about it (Shadowheart was being coy but the message was there, my autistic ass just missed it until I talked to Karlach and she got lightheartedly jealous I was getting tail and she could not. I've never reloaded a save faster, babygirl I thought we were just gonna drink wine and gossip) and I got rightfully freaked because I am not used to attention in that capacity and not interested in it. (I can't imagine a more hellish reality tbh than being in the middle of a very large dispute that could become a war at any moment and people being like "wanna fuck?")

I had already spurned our dear vampire's advances much earlier in the run so turning away from Lae'zel's horrific attempts at flirting and seeing someone right there that I had already said no to, I was really hoping he would finally be a conversation that didn't include sex (looking at you girls) or completely justified moping (Wyll and Gale my beloveds).

I was right. And I just had this moment where I was like, oh my god, he's the only motherfucker in this place who I can laugh about this with. It was the moment I finally realized I liked Astarion as a character.

So this scene was born and at some point it became less Wynleth bemoaning drowning in hoes and more a exploration of Astarion and her friendship (which not even I expected to happen. I thought they were going to tolerate each other at best because they are such polar opposites) and sexuality (because Wynleth is very much an extension of my interest in politics and thoughts about love and sex, she has been since I made her in 2018)

And in the text Wynleth just monologued a bit trying to explain herself because Astarion is a hypersexual being (because of his trauma or otherwise) and Karlach (who wandered into this scene) can't have intimate contact despite wanting it so badly and I can hear Astarion's cogs turning in his head, trying to stomach that people can just flat out not want sexual contact and be fine about it. He's spent centuries dealing with sexual contact he does not want to the point where now that he has slipped his chains, he doesn't really know what sex is to him anymore. It's certainly a tool, but does he truly want it or is he just doing it because it's all he knows how to do.

look me in the eyes and tell me that man isn't battling demons during this conversation.

I want so badly to write out his thoughts but at this point in the story he's not comfortable enough to probably even confront it let alone speak it out loud which is the only way Wynleth would be able to narrate it. So for now he has to just act weirdly sedate and pensive while still trying to put up his roguish charms (which he is doing, in spades, but not nearly as much as he was in the beginning of the scene)

Fuck I just wish I actually wrote 3rd person because his thoughts would paint such a beautiful dichotomy but that would probably only make this scene longer and this thing is already over 3k words and I'm nowhere near finished.

WHY IS WRITING LIKE THIS?

[thefallenangelsgang]

“I’m a godsdamned Paladin, Shadowheart. Nothing is broken. I’m fine.” “Well, Madame Ambassador, what do you suggest?” She scoffs as she leans back on her heels, her dark eyebrows lifting to hide behind her bangs.

the girls are fighting

[thefallenangelsgang]

MY OCs - WIP!

FEEL FREE TO SEND ASKS <3

BALDUR'S GATE 3/DUNGEONS & DRAGONS/EDGE OF MIDNIGHT

Wynleth Reiden (#Wynleth Reiden)

Oath of Redemption Paladin

High Elf - 206 - Good

Ambassador of Baldur's Gate

[EDGE OF MIDNIGHT VERSION] (#Wynleth Reiden EOM)

Rhett Atwater (#Rhett Atwater)

Monster Hunter Ranger

Half Wood Elf - 43 - Chaotic Neutral

Wynleth's Body Guard and Companion

Laertes Bechalles

College of Swords Bard

Dispater Tiefling - 34 - Lawful Good

Violin Luthier from Elturel

Darcy Galhearth

Way of the Four Elements Monk

Half Orc - 57 - Lawful Good

Novice-Master of the Four Elements Monastery

Zan Caimaris

Way of the Ascendant Dragon Monk

Half High Elf - 76 - Neutral Good

Captain of the Eliza Lee

Asta Galhearth

Swashbuckler Rogue/College of Lore Bard

Water Genasi - 31 - Chaotic Good

First Mate of the Eliza Lee

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FALLOUT

Louis DeSalva

"The Professor"

Cis Male - 28 - Bisexual

Railroad Heavy

Atticus Bruley

"Judge"

Cis Male - 32 - Pansexual

Sentinel of the Brotherhood of Steel

Amara Perry

"General"

Cis Female - 30 - Straight

General of the Minutemen

Zebediah Kahan

"The Wanderer"

Cis Male - 26 - Asexual

Railroad Heavy

Phasma Shipp

"Mother"

Cis Female - 27 - Aro/Ace

Director of the Institute

Blaise Tricoli

"Fixer"

Genderqueer - 22 - Lesbian

Ex-Railroad Heavy

Lakshana Parish

"Lark"

Cis Female - 35 - Pansexual

Elder of the Brotherhood of Steel

Hannah Doyle

"The Lone Wanderer"

Agender - 29 - Ace/Aro

Star Paladin of the Brotherhood of Steel

Reyes Aritza

"Spartan"

Nonbinary - 37 - Queer

Ambassador of the NCR

[thefallenangelsgang]

oh yeah, Don't Go Breaking My Heart playing while I'm rushing to jot down the idea I had for Gale and Wynleth's first meeting is a real Blursed moment

[thefallenangelsgang]

Little Gale and Wynleth moment that I mentioned in this post. It's only half finished and barely edited (it's very action oriented and I'm not sure if I'm totally satisfied with it all but alas we stay silly)

Ignore the [Insert something self deprecating/self sacrificial Wyll said in the last scene]. I haven't gotten around to writing that yet lmao

As always, break to save the dash

EDIT 6/5/24: changed formatting and added tags

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“May I join you?”

Gale’s voice is soft as the river breeze. It plays with my hair and soothes the ache in my chest and warms the chill in my limbs. His dark hair catches the moonlight, drawing the silver out from the brown. It suits him, but I suppose all light suits him. Torchlight and sunlight and the otherworldly glow of bioluminescence, even the fleeting crack of magic lighting his face is handsome. I pat the ground beside me that Wyll just vacated not even minutes ago. 

“What was our intrepid Blade of Frontiers seeking your infinite wisdom on?” He smiles down at me before bringing himself to sit, his knees clicking softly. I wonder if they bother him more than he lets on. I still remember how to make that poultice that helps with joint pain. He might appreciate the reprieve.

“Old matters,” I say with a noncommittal wave of my hand. “I uh- His father and I work together. I was one of his first allies in the Gate and we became close friends. I was around for much of Wyll’s childhood. I watched him grow up.”

“You must be very proud of him, despite the whole Mizora-business.”

“I think I might be because of the ‘Mizora-business’. He’s a good man. He’s grown leagues since we last talked. And I might not fully approve of his choice in patron, but he is using it for good. No matter the consequences.” My voice trails off at the end. [Insert something self deprecating/self sacrificial Wyll said in the last scene]. “I’m afraid his father and I have instilled a self-sacrificial streak in him though.” 

“It is a noble calling.” Gale states simply and… matter-of-fact. It makes me swivel to look at him directly. Now what does that mean?

We both find ourselves searching in the other’s eyes. I don’t know what I’m looking for really. Kinship? That same insane belief that the only way to prove my worth is to die for my cause? That draw to be heralded like the Martyrs of my ancestry? The ledge I’ve been talking myself down from for a century? 

“Perhaps, but it is not one I would wish on anyone.” I am careful with my tone, coupling my worlds with a squeeze on his knee. It might be a step too far, maybe too knowing. Am I showing my hand too early? Or am I reassuring him he is not alone?

He only smiles sadly in response.

Oh Gale. 

“Shouldn’t you be off politicking, making quick friends and quicker allies with our guests?” His voice has picked up the witty cadence again, but it’s subdued. He’s pushing past the subject. I’ll allow it. 

“I’d say our alliances are quite made. ‘Politicking’ can wait,” I reply cooly as I retrieve my hand and cast my gaze over the river. The milk-light reflects gently on the currents. 

The tieflings have all but sworn fealty to us. I’ve heard at least six promises to name children after us and you can’t go more than an hour before another drunk and tearful toast is made in our honor. But I will not ask any of them to stay and fight. Most aren’t even warriors and those that are are integral to getting the caravan to the Gate. Even pulling Laertes away, though he has done so willingly and of his own volition, leaves me with a pit in my stomach. I do need to discuss supplies and weapons with Zevlor before they leave tomorrow but that can wait. I doubt anyone will be up before high noon. That is a good thing. That means we’ve taken full advantage of this rare opportunity to be merry. 

I feel cheeky this evening. It’s probably the wine and the good company and the sheer relief of not carrying around secrets anymore. I feel light despite the challenge ahead.

“Tonight is for revelry and rest. For a few hours all our troubles cease to exist. No tadpoles, no Absolute, no Underdark, no treacherous journey ahead. We are living, damn the shit that’s been thrown at us.” I announce proudly before leaning back against the log. Gale chortles. The sound brings a smile to my lips.

“Truer words have never been spoken, but-” His gaze drifts as the peace of the beach is broken by two tieflings clumsily stumbling towards the rotting boats on the shore, tangled in each other rather impressively. “I don’t think anyone is getting much rest tonight.” 

We both try to muffle our giggles as the pair trip and fall over each other in their drunken passion. It’s silly and endearing and the way Gale bites his lip and puffs out his cheeks to dampen his laugh is adorable. I feel young again in a way I haven’t in a very long time. 

The tieflings finally fall, literally fall, behind the most intact boat and we have to hold onto each other for support. I might actually fall over, my sides are cramping so hard from stifling my laughter. Then an obscene moan manages to cut over the din of the party and neither of us can keep a grip on our maturity any longer. We laugh loudly and openly. It does not deter our neighbors. 

There are actual tears in my eyes.

“By the gods, if they’re already this loud I don’t want to be around for the completion.” Gale manages to bark out. I wickedly cackle as Gale struggles to his feet and offers a hand. He has to catch me when I get to my feet as another truly lewd sound escapes an unseen tieflings lips. This has no business being this funny, but the circumstances and the way these tieflings think they are alone when they are literally a stone's throw from Shadowhearts tent- they aren’t even out of the torchlight yet!- is close to actually killing me. I wonder if anyone has died from laughing this century.

We hang onto each other trying to catch our breaths. My vision is swimming from the tears and lightheadedness. The way Gale’s body is shaking, I’d say he’s fairing the same. 

Gods, I love parties. 

For a moment I think we’ve weathered the worst of it or maybe that last sound was them completing- drinking will do that to you- when a torrent of clothing begins to fly over the upturned edge of the boat. Oh my gods. It’s like a scene straight out of a saucy stage comedy. I actually have to turn away or I might just stroke out here on the beach. 

Blindly my hand finds Gale’s wrist, who’s wheezing like he’ll never catch his breath again, and I begin to pull. I don’t love the idea of having to beg Withers to resurrect one of us after springing a brain bleed from this.

We stagger like drunk idiots, cause we are. Well- maybe tipsy idiots. We’re drunk on other things. Hysteria and, well, life. I think this is the first time in this whole affair I’ve felt truly alive, not just that I am surviving. Perhaps it’s the first time in a very long time I've been doing anything other than just being. I have friends. Yes, I’m feeling bold enough to say that with confidence. I have people who I can talk about anything with. There is no decorum to adhere to. No awkwardness because I feel like a mentor or an ally or a daughter. I just had a long winded conversation with a vampire and a woman with an engine for a heart about the merits of sex. I spilled a secret I’ve kept longer than most the humans I know have been alive. I am stumbling through sand, trying to keep myself and a disgraced archmage from falling over as we escape the throws of another pair’s passion. I am drunk, I am breathless, and I am happy.

I am fucking happy. And that is good.

We make it to Gale’s tent before we both collapse. It’s not very far, and not nearly far enough for my liking, but the bards and drunk revelers are practically right on top of us and their voices drown out the rapturous cries we were running from. Mostly.

“Well aren’t you two a sight.”

I peak up from my landing spot beside Gale. Both of us managed to maneuver so our upper halves are propped up on his magnificent pile of cushions though our feet are flying in different directions. I can feel the crown of his head brushing against mine. 

Shadowheart stands over us two, a pleasant smile on her lips. Her dark eyebrows are raised, disappearing behind her bangs. She asks a silent question with just a look. Now what were you up to?

“Don’t go near the beach,” I manage to wheeze out. Gale huffs air out of his nose as he rubs his hands over his face, pulling at the skin gently as he drags his palms down and rakes his fingers through his beard. Shadowheart glances in the direction we came from, still looking for me to elaborate. “Or your tent for that matter. There are a pair of very enthusiastic tieflings near the boats. They didn’t even notice us. By the gods-” My voice gives out as I press the heels of my palms into my eye sockets. I have a headache from- everything really. 

Shadowheart gets a wicked grin on her face. I can see her wheels turning behind her eyes. Oh what have I done? I bring my hands to rest on my aching abdomen. “Don’t do anything mean spirited or too damaging, but it would be funny if their socks went missing, or they found their clothes inexplicably folded up in a neat pile.” 

Gale curls in on his side as another wave of hysterics overtakes him. The twinkle that must surely be in my eye makes Shadowheart don a very satisfied look. She briefly looks around to see if anyone has overheard our little exchange. Everyone else is too busy drinking or joining Laertes and Alfira in a rousing chorus of a drinking song. Even Halsin has joined in, sitting with Zevlor and nursing a mug of ale we plundered from the charred structure of Waukeen’s Rest. “Take Astarion with you, I’m sure he’ll get a kick out of it and two hands are faster than one. I don’t think they're gonna last much longer.”

Despite my best efforts, the last bit comes out in a wheeze of laughter. Gale is practically howling beside me. Shadowheart just shakes her head and walks away.

It takes a shameful amount of time for us to calm back down. We are both full grown adults well past our youths. By all merits we should be handling this with a bit more tact. But I just sicced a Sharran and a vampire on two tieflings to cause them mischief and neither of us can get a grip ten minutes later. I guess this proves what Father Amir said to me once about adults never really growing up, duty just makes them too serious for their own good. I’ve shucked my duty for the night so I no longer need to be serious. Good. 

“Oh my gods.” Gale finally sighs. He’s rolled onto his back again. The two of us sit in silence, well as much silence as being in the middle of a party allows. We don’t speak, we just listen to each other take shaky breaths and people mill about and sing like they don’t have a care in the world. The sky opens up over our heads. The stars look like diamonds faceted up above. 

“I have an… incredible headache,” I say, blowing hair out of my eyes. Gale only rubs his face again before folding his hands against his chest. His eyes are sparkling and the laugh lines on his face are deepened by the subconscious smile he is wearing. “That was… certainly memorable. I only hope to be invited to the wedding.” He shoots a mischievous smile in my direction. I bite back a laugh. If we start again we will genuinely never stop. 

Instead I look out across the camp. Almost immediately I regret it. Two tieflings wander in from the direction of the beach looking mildly perturbed and extremely disheveled. 

Sockless.

I sit up too fast. My stomach muscles burn from the exertion. Through the hand I’ve clamped over my mouth I say, “Gale, we have to get out of here, they are going to know.” 

“What? How are they- Who- Oh.”

We both start again, making some kind of unholy noise as we try to smother our laughter. I’m the first one up this time and Gale follows right on my heels. I have no destination in mind frankly, just to escape this madness until I feel like I can look them in the eyes without keeling over dead. It’s easy to avoid them. They are mostly staying on the fringes. Putting the crowd of drunk singing and dancing partiers between us is child’s play. Keeping our composure is not. 

The smile I’m wearing hurts, it's so damn big. Gale’s hands are on the small of my back and my elbow, steering me with a practiced ease. He seems to have a destination in mind. Well that is something to ask after. I know I’m well practiced at escaping parties, but why would he be?

Shadowheart almost blows our cover when she gives us a knowing look. Astarion sidles up beside her, raising a glass at our swift exit. 

Now he’s just trying to get us caught. 

We are almost in the clear when we pass the food table. The spread is mostly picked over now. People are more interested in finding the bottoms of our barrels than filling their stomachs. The one end is nearly empty save for two pairs of socks.

Are they supposed to look like hearts?

---------------------------------------------

[thefallenangelsgang]

Oh gods above this Tiefling Party is going to end up as multiple chapters oh my god

The CHAOS these gremlins are getting up to

(Rough and long winded timeline of the party below the break cause I have no interest in being brief a single minute of my life)

Okay so normal canon start to the party. The gang saves Halsin and bring him back to the grove, he restores order and decides to step down, Zevlor asks to have a night of revelry.

Now I'm still trying to decide two things:

-if I want the gang to have been compiling foodstuffs and alcohol etc to the same extent I did in the game (I had nearly 2000 points of camp supplies from the middle of Act 1 until the end of the game. I stopped picking up foodstuffs in Act 3) which is funny but a little reality breaking or have a segment where the party and the tieflings and the druids go on a little mission to pillage stuff now that the threats have been cleared. The idea of going up to Waukeen's Rest and the Tollhouse to raid their food stores is sitting in my mind beside the image of Halsin with a barrel on each shoulder (I know you Halsin Girlies (gender neutral) will love that)

-And where the camp is. I'm playing with it only being easily accessible via the Grove (perhaps the Risen Road brings you past it if you go down the section that's collapsed in). Reason is no one stays at camp save for Withers and the Owl Bear Cub and the camp is not packed up everyday. They need a secure place to leave things. The refugees trust them and the druids (other than Kagha and her die-hards) are respectful cause it is technically outside of the grove and they aren't being antagonistic. Plus they add a layer of protection at that entrance.

Anyways other than that I definitely plan for some Druids to filter in, particularly ones that like Halsin, and bring some alcohol they brew in the Grove. Mostly because I like the idea of there being a mix of people at the party.

Party begins later in the evening, it's still at the Act 1 Camp, all the characters in game are there plus some. It's a blast. There's food, there's drinks, there's music. Good vibes all around.

At some point Shadowheart asks Wynleth to share a bottle of wine with her once things quiet down. Wynleth misses the meaning of this and agrees thinking she's going to get some girl time with Shadowheart.

Networking Networking Networking (maybe a scene with Halsin and Zevlor. I haven't figured that out. All I know is Rhett is hanging out and flirting with Karlach by this point and Laertes is alternating with Alfira to provide the tunes)

Sometime around sunset is when Lae'zel has her moment and tells Wynleth she wants to taste her, which Wynleth politely declines (thoroughly spiraling in her mind #WhatTheActualFuckLae'zel)

From here is the beginning of Glasses, a bottle, and a lot on my mind (that link is an early draft. Laertes still goes by Cassius in it) where Astarion and Wynleth slip into an easy friendship and Wynleth cements herself as firmly Tipsy. Eventually that scene wanders into the discussion about sex and Wynleth's Asexuality that Karlach interrupts and joins. It ends with Wynleth denying anymore wine cause she's meeting with Shadowheart later. Astarion gets confused cause Wynleth JUST told him she doesn't do casual dalliances. Wynleth gets confused cause she's just meeting for a drink. Karlach and Astarion gently bully her and Wynleth flees the scene to straighten out the situation.

Shadowheart is chill with it. Wynleth overshares about not being into casual stuff. Shadowheart has to put the old dog down cause Astarion and Karlach had her thinking that Shadowheart wanted to get nasty (to be fair they genuinely believed that)

I feel like at this point Wynleth is floating around the party (song break anyone???) and hanging out with people. This is where she notices Gale and Wyll are not really in the party. Wyll is missing one of his favorite dances and well, Gale is just kinda moping on the fringes.

Wyll is up first. She finds him on the beach and they end up having a kind of downer heart to heart. Wyll asks about his father. Is he still mad? does he miss me? that kind of stuff. Wynleth gets the story about what really happened that ended with Wyll a Warlock and Ulder disowning him. I haven't ironed this bit out yet but I know Wyll is like a son to Wynleth and it eats her up inside that she wasn't there to stop Ulder. She stepped up when Francesca died to be a force in Wyll's life. She doesn't fill a "Mother" role for Wyll but more of a very involved Aunt. IDK they are cute. (I might have him promise to save her a dance)

Once Wyll leaves, Gale sidles up. This starts what I've bee writing today. They talk a bit about Wyll, vague stuff cause it isn't her story to tell. Gale has one of his "whether 'tis nobler" moments and it scares Wynleth a bit cause she sees her self sacrificial tendencies in Wyll and now in Gale. Gale drops it in favor of poking light fun at Wynleth's "politicking" and Wynleth asserts this is a night of revelry. That is quickly proven by a comical interruption by a tiefling couple trying to fuck by the boats. This fucking UNDOES both of them. IDK why but the characters started kind of naturally working themselves into hysterics and I chose to play it as cartoonishly as feasibly possible. Hence 4 pages of Gale and Wynleth being literally inconsolable with laughter.

Shadowheart finds the two of them collapsed outside Gale's tent after they manage to stagger away. Wynleth, still in a mischievous mood, sics her and Astarion on the couple but makes them promise not to do anything mean, offering two frankly heinous pranks to do. Folding up all the discarded clothing extremely neatly (there is a moment where it all comes flying from behind the boats in a purposefully silly moment) and stealing the couple's socks.

Gale and Wynleth finally calm down enough to talk without howling with laughter and that's when the couple walks back in, sockless and confused (Astarion and Shadowheart did do the folding bit, Wynleth and Gale just can't tell by visuals). Wynleth and Gale HAVE to leave. They are going to actually have an aneurysm. So they do, not before Shadowheart and Astarion almost make them break again and they pass the couples socks on the food table arranged in the shape of hearts.

That is all that I wrote before I ran here to talk about this, but I know Gale and Wynleth duck into the forest behind camp and end up taking a walk. They get to talking, hoping to calm down enough to be able to look the Tiefling couple in the eye without stroking out. It's pleasant. They learn a lot about each other.

Gale gets a little bold, he points out that this little walk is a lot like the one she thought about during their weave lesson. It was a very tame thought. It truly was a fleeting idea of how nice it would be to pick his brain on all sorts of subjects and it turned a touch romantical if you will. Gale is very attractive to Wynleth. She likes the way he thinks and the way he speaks even if it can be overly flowery and obtuse at times.

So Wynleth gets bold right back and the scene ends with them realizing they are mutually attracted to each other. They might even kiss (I'm honestly still figuring their early relationship out more). I'm not entirely convinced either is ready to fully commit to a relationship at that moment, but it very much might change as I get there. I do have an idea of what them deciding to try out a relationship looks like and it's going to probably be torture for me to write (raaaahhhhhh I'm gonna fistfight god and man) but that's a story for another time.

There is a little more to the "party". They do make their way back and part ways. It's late and most people have run off to bed (or be bed ayoooo) or have passed out drunk or are simply chatting quietly. So Wynleth tracks down Shadowheart and they go off to a little spring area and they end up taking a dip and talking. Wynleth spills the tea about Gale and Shadowheart and her begin to form an actual bond.

Wynleth goes to sleep A) Exhausted and B) Assured in the fact that she actually has friends and maybe even a romantic partner in her future after A Very Long Time.

Godspeed. I'm sensing at least three, maybe more, chapters and I am going to go insane.

[thefallenangelsgang]

This is an unfinished scene that I've been working on for a day and some change. The second half is still in progress (this is the titular maybe chapter that is a little too close for comfort, I'm coming to terms with some stuff about asexuality with)

This completed half takes place at the Tiefling Refugee party at the halfway point of Act 1. It starts with Wynleth running away from Lae'zel's interesting approach to flirting (which sent me spiraling when it happened in game) and diving into the interesting friendship that blossomed between Astarion and her after she unilaterally declined his advances.

If you want to see more Bg3 writing see here or look at #Jericho Writes under my account

There are a few things that need to be explained before you read but I'll get into it under the cut!

A few pieces that would have been explained in previous chapters:

Wynleth is a Baldurian Ambassador and a Noble from Baldur's Gate. Her family is aristocracy due to their connection with the Church of Lathander. Starting with the woman that first fought alongside Lathander, the matriarchal Reiden family has had "Saints, Martyrs, Prophets, all manner of Holy Persons in my family line." as Wynleth explains in a different version of her story (that being By Any Other Name, a Edge of Midnight oneshot i did using my homebrew version of Wynleth who has a much darker history but shared backstory). Her Grandparents hold a similar position to the one they do in By Any Other Name though the position is referred to as High Mornmaster here due to the Forgotten Realms setting. The long and short of it is, Wynleth grew up in the church due to her First born daughter status. He grandparents (specifically her grandmother) wanted her to grow up to take over their positions as head of the cathedral in Baldur's Gate or strive for something even greater. Wynleth has a rocky relationship with her faith, paladin oath, and childhood because of it.

Less important side tangent from above, Wynleth was a cleric for the first 100 years of her life. And a good one. Her grandmother took her off the healing path to train her to be a figurehead. That is when Wynleth takes fate into her hands and pursues politics. She took her paladin oath when she began her position as an Ambassador mostly to sate the Matriarch of her family.

Astarion has already attempted his late night nibble (and been refused) and flirted it up (and also been refused). Their friendship that blooms from this is strange and confusing for the both of them. Astarion is trying to navigate not using sex as leverage (as he still is looking for protection but completely unable to use his usual tools) and Wynleth knows she has been taught to kill him but can't see past his inherent humanity. The Vampire secret and some of Astarion's backstory has slipped out over the course of the story, much of it unintentionally on Astarion's part, Wynleth just happens to remember shit he says and hopes everyone forgets. After the Late Night visit, Astarion vows to figure out Wynleth's dirty secrets. (Spoiler alert, she is very bad at keeping those, and will continue to be)

Rhett Atwater is a Half-Elf (wood) and Wynleth's only friend and bodyguard. They were captured by the Nautiloid together but were separated during the crash. They met when Rhett was 18 and running from the tyrant leader of her village after pissing him off one too many times. Wynleth needed a body guard after an unfortunate series of events. They grew into fast friends over the subsequent decades. Wynleth very much sees her as a little sister.

Wynleth refers to Wyll as "the man I practically helped raise." She was well entrenched in the Politics of Baldur's Gate when Ulder came along as a younger man. She grew to be friends with him and his wife and was around a lot during Wyll's childhood (though unfortunately was out on a mission when the pact debacle went down, she would have ripped Ulder a new one if she was there). This means Wyll doesn't get to hide behind the Blade of Frontiers shtick right off the bat because their meeting basically plays out like your grandma seeing you after a long absence complete with the cheek pinching (I'm mostly kidding). He looks to her for advice, recognizing Wynleth's wisdom, and Wynleth sees the kid she should have done more for (I'M MORE THAN A LITTLE MAD AT ULDER FOR KICKING A 17YO OUT OKAY)

The Shadowheart trying to kill Lae'zel scene has already happened and ended with no bloodshed! (: (I almost had a heart attack when this scene happened in game and so did Wynleth when it happened)

Cassius is the other OC of the two OC's i mention in the foreword of my last piece but never show in the text (Rhett being the other). He's a Tiefling Bard definitely not based after Caprice from Legends of Avantris (I don't know what you are talking about I made budget Caprice for the laughs and then he stole my heart and became something else so I'm fucking screwed). He's part of a scouting party for the refugees and offers to help out with the Halsin rescue mission. He eventually becomes a chad member of the mini army tromping around Faerun following Wynleth into hell (at one point, quite literally!)

Wynleth and Gale have done the channeling Weave scene together and are thoroughly in the "holding hands... would be... would be nice....maybe????" stage of figuring out their feelings. The orb thing has been laid pretty bare (in game Gale was maxed out on magic items before I attacked the Goblin Camp but I have a feeling I'm gonna need to fix that narratively, but that is a problem for future me)

That should be it I think? Feel free to ask questions! I might have missed something somewhere?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Glasses, a bottle, and a lot on my mind. Those are the gifts I bear to the vampire reclining outside his tent. He’s the picture of aristocracy, leaning back on a cushion sipping from an opaque goblet. I know better than to inquire after the contents of the glass. He clocks my movement long before he turns to acknowledge me with his typical seductive croon.

“And to what do I owe the pleasure?”

My descent to the space next to him is messy and I have to counterbalance as I almost rock too far backwards but I keep the wine and glasses from taking a similarly rough tumble. Astarion takes this sight in with a mischievous spark in his eye like the bastard he is. A little help wouldn’t be remiss.

“I am going to drown myself in the Chionthar.” I finally say when I right myself. Deflection. Do I really want to talk about this with Astarion of all people? Instead of meeting the devilish gaze peering up at me, I busy myself laying out the glasses in front of my folded legs. He’s going to rip the truth out of me at some point. I suppose that’s why I beelined over here. And he’s not going to look at me any differently so perhaps that’s a plus. Without speaking, I offer to dole out some of my score for him.

“Oh well we can’t have our intrepid leader- oh yes, I’ll have a glass- we can’t have you doing that, now can we?” He takes the new glass delicately after setting his other goblet off to the side. I marvel, for the briefest of moments, at the grace he carries himself with. He truly could be an Upper City aristocrat with all his charms and sophistication. Something in me wonders if he was one all those years ago or if it is something more intrinsic to what makes him Astarion. I’ve met plenty of people over the years to know that elegance is something hard baked into a person and that teaching it is a battle rarely won.

But I cut my staring just short of being uncomfortable for the both of us. He doesn’t like to be picked apart, that much I know. Instead I return to my brooding, focusing the energy into a scene that must be hilarious seeing the way Astarion is laughing into his cup. Arms draped moodily over my bent knees, swirling my glass slowly while staring grimly into the middle distance. Okay, perhaps I am being dramatic.

“Lae’zel tried to fuck me,” I grumble before taking a steeling gulp of my wine. 

Now that sets the pale elf beside me practically rolling with laughter. As I expected, he revels in both my discomfort and probably the mental image of whatever Lae’zel considers to be flirting. I’d be lying if the uproarious giggling wasn’t satisfying in some way. The situation feels a whole lot less serious with Astarion’s reaction. 

“Githyanki aren’t your speed I take it? It doesn’t surprise me, you don’t strike me as the adventurous type.”

“It’s not that. It’s how she went about voicing her… desire.” 

The way Astarion speaks implies some sort of bias, one of which I abhor. Even my Upper City Patriar Ass can see that Lae’zel is attractive. If it wasn’t for the overwhelming sense of doom and perhaps a bit of trepidation considering other things and yes, the horrifically unfortunate way she worded her thoughts, I might have even been interested. But I am far too old and the situation far too dangerous to be playing stupid games with sex and feelings. 

A blush is creeping across my cheeks. I feel like a school child again talking about first kisses in a clandestine corner of the gardens. I’m over two hundred years old! But the way the silver haired man with nearly a century over me’s eyes twinkle with mirth is goading in a way that sheds a century off the both of us at the very least. 

“And how did she do that?” He manages after regaining some composure. His waggish smile is lazy and… easy. This friendship, if we are both willing to call it that, is easy. Something in me soars at the thought. 

Friendship was never easy for me. Patriar friendships are easily thrown aside for political and social gain and making friends in the Church was unbearably hard. I was the High Mornmasters’ granddaughter. I was a Reiden. I was destined for something greater than healing houses and common clerics, damn what I wanted, what I needed.

This is nice. This is refreshing. This is making the ball of hurt lodged under my ribs more noticeable than I can bear.

“She told me she wanted to taste me.”

“She did not!” Astarion shoots into a sitting position, expertly maneuvering his goblet so it doesn’t spill. He swivels his head around the clearing before he spots our Githyanki friend arm wrestling some of the stronger Tieflings. She easily dispatches them one by one.

 “Yes she did,” I affirm, the incredulity bubbling up and over in the form of silent laughter. “There was more but that was what really got to me.”

“Oh that little minx! That’s a line I would have used!” My companion feigns frustration with Lae’zel for but a few moments before looking over at me curiously. “But why come tell me all this?” He all but purrs.

“Rhett is busy chatting up Karlach.” I wiggle my brow suggestively as I watch Astarion track the mentioned party in the crowd. “And it would be altogether cruel to complain about unwanted contact to a woman who can’t have it,” I add a bit more seriously, referring to Karlach. “And I’m not discussing this with the man I practically helped raise, and I’m not about to give Shadowheart more ammunition after the other night. And frankly? I don’t trust our companions to not take it as an invitation to pursue me in less overt ways. So-” I gesture vaguely towards him, “You.”

“Oh darling you wound me! You know I’m a depraved beast,” He bemoans in mock anguish as he makes a show of setting his glass down and dramatically falling into my lap. I pull my wine hand out of the way to avoid any accidental spills as I throw my head back and laugh genuinely and loudly for the first time tonight.

“Ah yes, but you also have felt the harsh sting of my rejection and are gentlemanly enough to drop it. And besides,” I drop my voice conspiratorially, “It is precisely because you are a depraved beast that you get the juiciest gossip.” 

“A woman after my own dead heart. But you didn’t mention our resident wizard. Any particular reason for that faux pas?” The vampire knows right where to needle me, I’ll give him that much. I cover my blunder with a chuckle and a theatrical eye roll. “Both you and I know Gale is not the sort for seedy gossip.”

It’s Astarion’s turn to roll his eyes. “Perhaps not when it pertains to you,” he says with a truly wolfish grin.

Playfully I glare at him. He is correct. There is something to our dynamic that prevents me from doing what I am doing with Astarion with Gale. But I was very clear that there are reasons for everyone in camp. Why suffer over the specifics? I didn’t mention Cassius, though that is more of a given, he’s only been traveling with us for a few days. I also didn’t bring up Withers, but- Okay fine, maybe I am deflecting again!

As if he can read my mind, Astarion laughs once again and pats my cheek with an almost parental fondness. “Oh you sweet child.” I push his hand away from my face with a lighthearted scoff. “You are a menace.”

“I try, darling.” He drawls out as he sits up to retrieve his wine. “Though I am touched you consider me a close enough confidant to regale flirtatious missteps with me. It makes my quest to uncover all your secrets easier, though you aren’t particularly good at hiding those.”

[thefallenangelsgang]

snippet saturdays are the best saturdays

it's finally Saturday! I got tagged by the lovely @heylittleriotact

(their fic Open Invitation and their characters Echo and Senna (especially Senna, sorry Echo) have me in a choke hold of epic proportions)

ANYWHO this is a snippet from "Chapter 1" referenced in my WIP Tag Game post under Old Man Madness and a Young Man's Sin. It's the same story as my Edge of Midnight Oneshot By Any Other Name and also a revised version of this opening line lmao

________________________

I am piss drunk, beaten, bruised, and dirt fucking poor.

I’m out of money, full stop. Stagecoach passage as far as they would take me, a room for tonight, a bottle of cheap liquor, and every single one of my coins are in other people's hands. It’s ridiculous. I can’t remember the last time my coin purse was this empty. 

Deep inside I know I have to sell it. I have to. What little money I would be making working with the stagecoach is going towards my discounted fare and meals. I need coin if I’m going to make it to the coast and leave this all behind, but the chances that this patch of frontier contains a single person with enough wealth to come even close to its value is so slim it’s almost negligible. No, it will have to wait until we get closer to a major city and then I’ll find some rich fool fond of pretty things who’s willing to part with their coin. A wizard perhaps? They might be interested in the pearls, but the idea of cannibalizing it for parts makes me feel sicker than the spirits sitting in my stomach.

This tavern is sad. It almost would be comical if I didn’t look right at home drowning myself in the bottom of my bottle. To my right, a man is sleeping off a fresh beating. It sounded like nasty business when it happened and if I wasn’t so drunk right now I’d have offered to stitch up the split in his eyebrow. It's definitely going to scar. To my left a working girl stares into the middle distance, taking pulls from something that smells herbal. Her eyes have this glassy quality, I’m trying to decide if it’s what she’s smoking or not. It doesn’t smell like anything I’m familiar with.

You know what? This is comical. I just don’t have the energy to laugh. 

What am I doing here? I’m the daughter of one of Lathander’s holiest families! Me? The picture of despondence? I should be back in Cironn but no, I had to fling everything they handed me on a silver platter back in their stupid faces. I could have had pretty, easy things I only had to sell my soul to achieve. A simple price for simple things, but I had to be born with a backbone and a self-sabotaging rebel streak.

Enough, I down the tail-end of whatever it is I’ve been drinking. I just threw down three coins and asked for the strongest bottle that I could buy. 

I’m going to bed.

________________________

tagging (no pressure, I just appreciate them <3): @helena-bug @fablewritesnonsense @just-another-wasteland-merc @cthulhusstepmom @caesarflickermans @druidgroves @totally-not-deacon

[thefallenangelsgang]

Hee Hee Hoo Hoo just wrote some fucked up letters for my DnD campaign

[TRANSCRIPTS BELOW BREAK]

Playing an interesting take on Saltmarsh my group is affectionately calling Pirates and Parolees. Everyone in the party is a criminal out on parole except for me, a First Mate on the vessel that was supposed to give them job experience and serve as a sort of training while out on parole. We finished our first two prologue sessions (we are easing a lot of new players into DnD so we tried to take it slow) and ended with the ship being attacked by Umberlee cultists (our Quartermaster was a plant!) our captain and 7 other crew members died.

Now I am stuck in Saltmarsh with 5 parolees who's crimes range from identity theft to serial killing, my best friend (the captain) is dead, and I can't leave the Parolees without permission from the government.

For those that are familiar with my Edge of Midnight or Baldur's Gate 3 writing, or have heard me talk about my PC Wynleth Reiden, you may recognize some names on these. Wynleth is serving as an NPC in this campaign and as the main governmental contact for the characters. Her husband Zan Caimaris (who is usually dead when he is mentioned) was alive and the Captain on The Eliza Lee. He died in the Cultist Attack (or did he? *wiggles brow in Wynleth's backstory requires him to come back very sick, we'll see if my brother sticks to that though*)

My current PC, Asta Galhearth, was best friends with Zan and one of few that knew about Wynleth and Zan's relationship. He tried to save Zan from his watery grave but a Kraken got in the way of that. A kraken also killed the crew members he tried to save and then some. He's feeling really responsible about it so he resigns from the company. We'll see where this goes lmao.

[Letter 1]

Symond Larke Pride of the Gate Mercantile Seatower, Lower City, Baldur’s Gate To whom it may concern, I regret to inform you that the Eliza Lee has been lost, her cargo along with it. We were attacked off the shores of Saltmarsh, a mere quarter mile from our destination. We lost many crew to the attack, their names are listed below. Kharvas Gav -Rigger Concrete - Rigger Andor Den - Rigger Amya Den - Rigger Beacon Xath - Healer Mel Hallow - Cook Lilyore Zasebar - Cook Zan Caimaris - Captain Attached are letters written to their kin. Please dispense to their families along with their final pay. I hope it brings them some closure. Please also take this as my formal resignation from the company. I have failed my crew, my captain, and the Eliza Lee. I am no longer fit to command a crew or a vessel. I ask that you dispense my final pay to my wife as I do not know if I shall return from this journey. I have also enclosed a letter for her. The Parolees under Zan and I’s care have survived. I have contacted the Authorities and am awaiting further instruction. it was an honor to serve, Asta Galhearth

[Letter 2]

My darling wife, The ship was attacked. Zan didn’t make it. The surviving crew is stranded in Saltmarsh. I don’t know when, or if, I will be able to return home, I have resigned from the company. You should have received this letter with my final pay. I wish it was more but I cannot bear to continue to call myself a sailor with the blood on my hands. I failed them. I failed Zan. I failed you. I hope you can forgive me. I will try to write soon with updates on my journey home. Despite my exit from the company, I am still responsible for the parolees under my charge. The road ahead seems long and arduous, I long for nothing more than to feel your embrace. Pray for me, it seems I have incurred the Bitch Queen’s wrath. I will hurry along as fast as I can. Yours eternally, Asta

[Letter 3]

Wynleth Reiden Ambassador of Baldur’s Gate The High Hall, Temple District, Upper City, Baldur’s Gate Madam Ambassador, I regret to inform you that the Eliza Lee has been lost. We have lost a substantial amount of our crew, including our captain, and all of our cargo. The company has been notified and the remaining crew allowed to make their way back to Baldur’s Gate however they see fit. I have chosen to resign from my position with the company but, in reviewing the documentation, cannot cede my responsibility of the parolees taken under Captain Caimaris and I’s charge. I am looking for further instruction. I was ordered to await something concerning the parolee’s when we arrived here in Saltmarsh. We have arrived, though through unforeseen circumstances. If you are aware of any solutions to our predicament, or any clauses that allow me to shed this responsibility into more capable hands, I would be much obliged. I am completely out of my depth here and, frankly, have been since we picked them up in Waterdeep. Anxiously awaiting your response, Asta Galhearth

[Letter 4]

Wynleth, I am so sorry. I tried to save him, I really did, but I failed him. I’ll never forgive myself, Asta

[thefallenangelsgang]

15 Lines Challenge

Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture their character/personality/vibe. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you’re free to include those as well. @fablewritesnonsense strikes again! As always, no pressure, I just really admire these lovely folk's work: @helena-bug @just-another-wasteland-merc @roystory4 @druidgroves @heylittleriotact

(I'm going to be completely honest, I'm working of off 5 incomplete scenes if I just do BG3, so I'm also going to throw in some By Any Other Name quotes. It's technically the same character from a different story. The backstories vary a little but I'm confident the character is still there. By Any Other Name quotes are marked with an asterisk * at the end)

Wynleth Reiden

“Lathander isn’t going to strike me down if I don’t stop and kneel."

“Are you stupid?”

“Of course I’m not going to kill you!”

“And I’m still not sure you are actually what I think you are or just some freak with filed teeth and a biting kink!”

“My faith is entirely a different matter.”

“I am going to drown myself in the Chionthar.”

“It is precisely because you are a depraved beast that you get the juiciest gossip.”

“Yes, good sex!”

“I was married, he died… fifty-four years ago come Mirtul?”

“I- I think I need to be alone for a bit. I need to pray. I need to do something or I’m going to fall apart.”

“Is that why I took up the role of a garden water feature when I tried to dominate it?"

“Becoming a Paladin, beginning a life in politics, was how I could take control back. I never had a connection to Lathander like you did. I didn’t find him when I lost. He was never there for me in my darkest moments. He was forced upon me because it was expected . He inundates every single one of the worst moments in my life. Because of them .” *

"Here, every second of every day is focused on the words and what they mean and it's been like that for centuries. We are like an ouroboros. The dogma is causing us to consume ourselves.” *

"You are a soldier with faith, I am a priest sent to war. They are entirely different things.” *

"I have Saints, Martyrs, Prophets, all manner of Holy Persons in my family line. I was supposed to follow in their footsteps. But I didn’t. Not totally.” *

If you would like to see more of my writing (or some of the incomplete scenes these are pulled from) check out my tag on my account #Jericho Writes

If you are a Legends of Avantris and Edge of Midnight fan, By Any Other Name is a published oneshot about the Chapter 17 memory ritual you can find on my Ao3!

[thefallenangelsgang]

I'm working on a more elegant Meet the OCs page for all my stuff but for now I wanna share my BG3 baybeeessssss

Starting with Wynleth Reiden

A High Elf Paladin of Lathander (Oath of Redemption on paper but Devotion in BG3). She goes through some hair changes over the course of the story (Act 3 really got to her). Her Act 1 look is new to my second play through, I am still not happy with it but I don't care enough because this look isn't what I think about when I imagine her.

[ACT ONE]

[ACT TWO] (ignore the armor, we were experimenting with color pallets and this wasn't it lmao)

[ACT THREE]

She also has a war paint look I'm trying to figure out if I like or not.

Wynleth's Dream Guardian

The Emperor takes the vague form of one of Wynleth's ancestors, a Lathandite Martyr by the name of Tali (mentioned in passing in my Oneshot By Any Other Name) Wynleth doesn't recognize them until they get into Baldur's Gate, then she realizes The Emperor's whole ploy to get the party to trust it.

Rhett Atwater

Another one of my actual DnD PCs brought to life. A Half Wood Elf Fighter (she's an Arcane Archer on paper but Battle Master in BG3) and our ranged weapons expert.

My beef with Larian about the lack of POC and specifically Black features is immense. She has a High Elf face preset because there really are no presets for Half Elves but I doctored the photos so she could have half-elf ears as she should. Also not the style I would have given her, but the only one that resembled her locs. I am this close to learning how to use the mod manager just to get mods to fix these oversights.

Laertes Last-Name-is-TBD

A Mephistopheles Tiefling College of Lore Bard, and the only one who isn't a DnD PC of mine. He was born from me deciding to make Caprice from Legends of Avantris's Beneath Dark Wings (for the laughs and also because my only bard is literally impossible to make in BG3 (unavailable race and subclasses)) and then panicking because I actually had character ideas about him. So! Laertes! Who truly no longer has anything in common with his inspiration outside of vague visual similarities and their chosen College and instrument. (I love violins/fiddles, I want to talk about folk music, sue me Derek /j)

His hair is much curlier than pictured, and his mustache a bit more pompous. He's an instrument craftsman from Elturel who escaped with the refugees.