#and i finished bg3 and gale died

[ohwolfling]

as a note, I very much am not the president of Gale Dekarios and I do not want to be. I could be one of the people you need to block tbf! I am not trying to change anyone's mind and I have no interest in defending any company, even if it's one that made a game I like a whole bunch.

My niche is trauma representation and violence on screen. Within that niche, I do engage with fandom not just as a fan myself but as someone who writes about how meaningful these things can be. This includes seeing where, from lived experience and from observation, fandom gets incredibly toxic and creates an ouroboros of trauma triggers for the sake of a wholly invented cause they must fight for.

ily uwu

[a-heart-of-kyber]

Not Tav knowing Mystra may essentially cast Gale out of the afterlife when he dies and going full Devil's Backbone by the Civil Wars and begging their god to claim him.

[cheebg3]

im out of sketchbook pages polished enough to colour... whatever. scooby doo ass

[mysticalalleycat]

Hey Larian why can't I hug Jahira in the epilogue??????

[animentality]

I see a lot of BG3 fans saying that they need to add a married with children ending for all the companions or add a Zevlor/ Dammon/Roland whoever romance option, but with all due respect... you're all wrong.

You don't need a fucking domestic life scene with all the companions, you don't need those random npcs to fuck you (that's what mods are for).

What they need to fucking do is finish the upper city.

Give Karlach actual fucking quests and the option to fix her heart.

Give Wyll fucking quests in the upper city and more romance scenes because his number of fucking unique scenes is ridiculously lower than Gale or Astarion's and gee I wonder why.

Please for the love of God, fill cazador's palace because that space is way too fucking big for how little is in it. It's actually kind of embarrassing how empty the palace is.

Fill the temple of Bhaal which has the same fucking problem.

Also while we're fucking at it?

When you're doing all that shit, why don't you attempt to give Orin and Gortash any of the same weight and respect you gave Ketheric???

The entirety of act 2 set him up as a major villain and made him intimidating and then sympathetic and then back to intimidating, and then back to tragic.

He had a whole descent into villainy story arc, with entire quests dedicated to understanding what happened to him.

He's a rich character because of it.

Gortash and Orin??? I mean come the fuck on.

Gortash either dies or dies, and Orin is literally your SIBLING if you're the dark urge, but all you can really do is kill her after she says the same shit to you that she says to a Tav.

You can't talk to her or learn more about her or your past, aside from talking to her dead mom.

She and Gortash come across as mini bosses. They almost feel like optional fucking side quests with how not involved they are.

Also remove lady jannath's house entirely from the game, thanks.

[ode-to-fury]

I have not said anything about Mythal/Solas since I finished the game cause there are a lot of very big emotions going on there for people but I would like to say that I hate the way they brought Mythal into the game. I hate it so much. It doesn't make any sense with the Mythal/Flemeth we've seen since Origins and it doesn't make any sense with the Mythal we see in the Crossroads. She should have been a massive bitch and I stand by that. She should have been so unapolagetic about commanding Solas to join her it should have made me angry. Instead what I'm angry about is them trying to pass of the piece of Mythal that Morrigan has as "the benevolent mellow piece" because what the fuck do you mean. I'm replaying origins rn and I am a Morrigan/Amell truther until the day I die and (even when you don't romance her) hearing her talk about herself and how Flemeth raised her is... heartbreaking? I thought I could accept that she'd take Mythal's spirit but actually I can't. I can't accept it the only way I can see it happening is if she drank from the well and Mythal's spirit attaches itself to her after Felmeth dies like a little parasite and they're both SO angry about it (kinda like spite/lucanis) because what do you mean she forgave Flemeth? Morrigan would spit in her mother's face on her deathbed. You could make the case that in the past she always knew Flemeth would be back somehow but I don't buy it.

Anyway that got away from me a little bit what I actually wanted to say is I think they should have made the piece of Mythal a part of the battle against Elgar'nan. And it could also be better like that because you could have had Elgar'nan confronting what he did to his wife (who I assume he loved at some point???) instead of just... being an asshole as his whole personality. It could have been a thing between him and Solas too where Elgar'nan is maybe able or not able to confront what he did to her and Solas then in turn is/isn't depending on your choices throughout the game... idk why they were trying to make her this benevolent mother/lover figure to Solas the Mythal I knew in the first three games was fucking shit up all over the place and also chasing templars and chasind around in the korkari wilds for fun before killing them and I want that Mythal to confront her shitty ex-husband even though she was just as shitty. I am loathe to bring up bg3 in a dragon age discussion but in this case I do think it's trying a little too hard to be gale/mystra and I don't think they got it right because we have the context of the other games.

Tldr: Mythal should have been used in the confrontation with Elgar'nan not Solas (and that could have led to a decision Solas makes) also free my wife Morrigan

[pickyourpoisonandevolve]

Time and Space

Boy fucking howdy, the BG3 obsession is real, and so is being unable to sleep. I cranked this out in 20 minutes in an absolute fervor because I’m OBSESSED, as we all are. Please forgive my absence, but let us rejoice that I have been possessed enough to write again.

—————

Admittedly, you all have had better days on the road to Baldur’s Gate. There have been close calls and hard fights, but today has decidedly been the worst. What started as a hopeful descent into the Githyanki Crèche ended in most of your party downed, and watching Laezel’s eyes lose light as she died. Shadowheart thankfully still had the wherewithal to walk you through the scroll you said you’d never had to use, hand in shaky hand. It took you about an hour to detach yourself from her side once you all made it back to camp.

Quiet nods and looks of understanding were sent all around you as you commanded your feet their last few steps to your tent. Gale would take over dinner tonight. Karlach would take care of the owlbear and Scratch. Others would take other duties. You would take care of sitting down on your cot and disassociating before you could unclip both straps of your armor. That’s how Astarion found you anyways.

You had been close, today. Despite the looming threats, you both woke up in cheery spirits. You had gossiped about how Raphael was a scumbag, but a hot one, how Shadowheart and Laezel would definitely make out by the end of this journey, among other things. Once battles had started, you had even found a nice flow physically. Shooting arrows over each others shoulders, stabbing enemies before they could get to the other. Something went wrong along the way. Discussions didn’t seem to go your way. No one you all encountered seemed very convinced of your decisions or leadership. You felt that it had started to infiltrate your team, despite their objections.

But someone had died on your watch. And for that, you’d never forgive yourself.

“Sweetheart, armor comes off before bed, you know.” A little less smug than usual. “He’s worried,” you think in passing. It seemed that his voice came from farther away, until you felt the whisper of his fingers on your shoulder. His way of not wanting to scare you. He’s very familiar with the look in your eyes right now. You have enough energy to finish unbuckling the second clasp before the chest piece falls to the floor with a dull thud. As you extend your torso to stretch properly for the first time today, both sets of eyes fall to a particularly dark red patch in your torso, right underneath your heart. Seems you’ve been stabbed. How long ago is anyone’s guess, but the armor seemed to hold as the worlds worst tourniquet. The volume of voices tune back out as you hear Astarions call for help, the pitch of panic sending you deeper into… something. Not quite nothingness. Not quite enough of something to call it anything. A general state of pain and emptiness.

Two sets of hands lift you enough to lay down on your cot. Voices mill around, but you feel the large hands of Halsin gingerly lift your shirt to begin healing. He leaves you in your bra as he begins his work. He has a way of making his deep booming voice so soothing when he knows you’re in pain. Astarion sits down closer to your face, and has one hand on the side of your cheek. His thumb runs across your cheekbone a little faster than usual, trying to comfort you as well as himself. Halsin has been around this enough that both men don’t seem to be phased, but Astarion starts his mix of worry and chastisement and care. Funny how he can speak so softly and so cutting at the same time.

“How many times have I told you to tell me when you’re hurt? You’re not holding up your end of the bargain,” he says, with no real seriousness. You look over long enough to see his creased brows, but in them, something new. He’s angry at you, for compromising the plan. For compromising his journey. For compromising the trust he put in you for being a team. He’s also mad at himself for not being in front of you to catch the blade.

“You’re no good to me dead, you know. I need you… I need you here.” He says, voice shaky, as Halsin finishes his spell. The newly connected skin is always itchy, so he puts a salve on before he leaves. He puts a large hand on Astarions shoulder and exchange a few words before he leans over and kisses you gently on the temple. He whispers, between the three of you “We’re here to take care of you, my heart. Please allow us to.”

Now that the physical pain has started to subside, the emotions you’ve been pushing down through the day start to bubble up. You start to feel the dirt, the blood, the viscera on your skin. How compressed everything is starting to get. You lean up and start to breathe. A little too fast, a little too heavy. Astarions eyes get wide, he’s seen you stressed but this is something different. You hurry to a nearby abandoned building near camp while he stays behind a step, a little stunned.

Normally this would be the time he freezes, unsure of emotions, unsure how to help. But it’s usually him that’s going through something like this. It’s usually you who calms him down, brings him back to center. What has he done to make you feel like this?

You sit in the corner of a decrepit old rampart. Panic attacks haven’t been prevalent for quite some time. You don’t hear him, once again until he’s next to you. You notice your cot and some creature comforts set up a few feet away. A few curtains strewn to block out the inevitable morning sun. Some candles for light.

“Thought you might like some alone time tonight.” He says, voice deep and steady and sure of himself. For someone so lithe and nimble, you forget he can lift you in his arms. And he does settling you in bed, sitting while you feel him taking his shirt off and leaning you against his chest. The skin on skin contact, you’ve found, comforts him as much as it comforts you.

The shock of Astarion moving with such assuredness brings you a little bit back to surface. You clear your throat and say “I’m sorry for troubling everyone. Today was a little hard for me.” Your voice breaks a little at the end, and so does your resolve as you cry, letting the emotions of the day out.

He runs fingers through your hair and turns you into his chest as you release all your worry from the day. “You know, I honestly don’t know how you’ve kept it together this far, my sweet.” He brings his face to the side of yours, steadying your breathing and letting his breath warm your neck. “I haven’t had to be strong for anyone… well, other than myself. But I didn’t even do a good job then. You’re so much more than you know. To them. To me.” He lays a field of kisses to the side of your face and neck while his arms surround you, fingers lacing together. “I… don’t know how to do this part. I don’t know how to be good at this. To comfort. But I do know I’ve never been more torn apart when you’re in pain. Please. Let me… try. Let me try to be good at this.”

Chest heaving, you look up and take his mouth into yours. You kiss deeply, letting it say all the things you’re too tired to say. Too tired to thank him for. He seems to understand, as he cradles your face in his palm. A kiss that’s said more than you’ve said to each other for weeks.

As sleep overtakes you, he brings you into his chest, arm circling your shoulder.

The last burst of energy wouldn’t allow your mouth to say it, but Astarion felt the tadpole twitch with the three words you two had been dancing around for some time. If his heart still beat it would keep him up for the rest of the night. In hope. In anticipation to say it back. But you two were together. Alive. There would be time for I love yous in the morning.

[profoundlyfaded]

You can tell it’s about 3am and I can’t sleep because I’m lying here thinking about why offering Emmrich the chance in-game to become a Lichlord is such a fucking, stupid idea.

Luckily, the game has clad all our companions in plot armour prior to the Point of No Return but realistically, Rook would be beyond stupid to support Emmrich in becoming a Lichlord at the point it is presented to us in the game.

Emmrich is easily your most powerful ally; I’m not talking about him in the combat sense, necessarily, but in terms of what he is actually there to do for Rook. Fade expert. Ultimately, he is the one who manages to track down your point of escape from the Fade.

So why, when poised on the edge of an apocalypse, would you support him to do a ritual you know could kill him?

Imagine for a moment that DATV had the decision systems of BG3, in particular, I’m thinking about Gale’s God mechanics here, you missed something and Emmrich died as the result of the ritual. What then, particularly if that thing was ten hours of gameplay ago?

Soft locked in the Fade is the answer to that!

It’s such a high-stakes decision to put on the mortuary table. It’s not at all comparable to what the other character decisions are either. Emmrich’a decision is actual life or death. It’s mental.

Ultimately, I think if he chose to give up Manfred, the Lichlords could have been called upon for aid with Emmrich undergoing the final rites at some point after the events of the game.

And actually, that is possible to simulate in the game leaving that open to him because you just don’t finish his personal quest after deciding not to revive Manfred. So long as everyone else is levelled up, your factions are levelled up then Emmrich can survive the final battle without being having Hero of the Veilguard status (I did this with Taash in my second playthrough because I was so heartbroken by her mothers death, that roar…. Poor baby).

This post is in no way a jumping board for a bit of Emmrich/Rook angst as he nears the end of his life with the option of Lichdom still open to him… nope.

[deer-with-a-stick]

Idk if the people complaining about the BG3 endings are D&D players or not but like...this does feel like the ending of a campaign y'know. Sacrifices are made, people are stubborn and time is short so sometimes you have to choose between npcs who could have worked together but won't, and the thing with character arcs.

If you finished them, the companions' arcs are complete emotionally I think (except for Karlach rip, although I hope Larian does make up for it. Late-addition I guess :/). Lae'zel breaks free of her indoctrination, Shadowheart discovers who she is and now has the choice to decide who she can be, Astarion's learned enough things about himself that he's almost a completely different character by the end of it, Gale's gotten over Mystra and over his constant need to be better and stronger (this is all assuming the "Good Endings"), Wyll's broken his pact with Mizora and it makes sense for his character to keep trying to help people, whether that's by becoming the Blade of Avernus or otherwise.

Life goes on after the campaign ends. Characters move on, and for characters like the BG3 ones, where it ended at level 12, it makes sense that they wouldn't settle down in a place to chill and have a fairytale ending. They have the last tiny part of their stories to complete.

I think the reason it funnels a little right at the big moment (where it ends up being "Choose Orpheus or the Emperor," and "Choose who to become the illithid or let Gale explode") is because for these big last boss fights, there tends to have to be a sacrifice. I know there might be some bugs or whatnot, or people wanted more knowledge about what was going to happen to everyone else, but this is still a roleplaying game? Should I remind you that in BG3, you are, in fact, roleplaying as Tav/Origin Character?

That's the reason why you learn more about what a companion does after defeating the Netherbrain if you play as them and why if you play as Tav, you don't know what comes next.

For the few D&D campaigns I've played, at the end of it, it's always just been the players deciding individually what happens to the characters. Sometimes, they've died. Sometimes, they've continued adventuring and end up making appearances in the next campaigns, and sometimes they just had their fairytale ending. (From what I've seen the ending is quite a bit bugged and once Larian fixes that it'll probably please a bunch of people. My thoughts are incredibly disjointed right now but hjkrhlakjsdfh)

Those open-ended endings are good, I think. Lae'zel's always been a fighter, regardless of whether it was because of Vlaakith or not. She's always been steadfast in her beliefs and will stop at nearly nothing to make sure she accomplishes what she's set her mind to. She's got a code of honor, even if that code might skew towards "evil," so it makes complete sense that she would want to return to the Astral Plane to stop Vlaakith. What becomes of her and her mission, we don't know, because Tav, in that moment, is not in the Astral Plane with Lae'zel.

Shadowheart's arc was about reclaiming herself, so to speak. And that's hard when you've been brainwashed by a goddess for the majority of your life. Ironically, the whole theme of "Loss" is always prevalent, whether it's because she serves Shar or because she's let her parents go. Unlike Lae'zel, her purpose now is something vague: live your life. She doesn't know what exactly to do, so she heads off by herself. She doesn't know where she's going exactly, and so therefore Tav wouldn't either.

Astarion's ending pissed people off, and I do kind of wish that if you kept Gale's True Resurrection scroll, you could cure him, but it makes sense I suppose. If you kept him from becoming Vampire Ascendent, it signifies that he's finally free of Cazador and that he's finally free of his near all-consuming quest for power. The ability to walk in the sun is a power, and when he burns after the tadpoles die, it's because he's given up that power earlier, but is a better person because of that. I believe that if you do an Astarion Origin ending, it turns out that he heads to the Underdark to lead the vampire spawn because he's taking responsibility. He's becoming a leader where Cazador had been a tyrant

For Gale, his entire storyline is just him walking on a knife's edge. He's somewhere between desperately trying to live and trying to find some convenient time to die, between loving Mystra and hating her, between wanting more power and being content with what he has. The end (find the crown, give it to mystra) is a fitting ending I think. I honestly don't think Mystra's a very good goddess to hold the attention of, but he realizes that a) he's got a little obsessive and b) he doesn't need more power and that he'll be content just to be Gale Dekarios. So it makes sense for him to quite literally just settle down somewhere. He doesn't have the urge to make himself stronger and better constantly, and he won't end up killing all of Waterdeep. He's free to live at home, do wizard things, and have Tara yell at him for poor life choices.

And Wyll's Blade of Avernus ending makes sense (even if he didn't sell his soul to Mizora forever: I think you can get this ending if you save his father anyway). He's got his hero complex. His daddy issues aren't so much a problem and the pact is gone (you can break the pact and then hurry to the prison I believe), but he's going to keep fighting, keep being a hero. If Karlach's dying, he's definitely the kind of person to jump at the chance to help her, even if that means going to Avernus. Besides, he can keep killing demons and devils there.

I will agree that its a bit annoying (because again, I definitely think that Act 1 is the most thought-through and polished piece, and there are bugs abound in Act 2 and 3) but seeing Larian's response so far (we've got Patch 1 and 2 confirmed already, with the possibility of a DLC not off the table), people who were disappointed should still have hope.

Just be warned that the perfect fairy tale ending probably isn't possible, but your companions will still be happy. This isn't new: take LOTR for example. Faramir's father and brother are still dead, but at the end of everything, he'll still be happy. He'll have some more action when he cleans out Minas Ithil, but in the end, despite everything he's lost, he'll be happy. Frodo is heavily scarred by his experience, and perhaps it's not the best ending per say, by the end of the day, people and life move on, and we know that Frodo will be happy in Valinor.

(This is unfiltered rambling I'll probably edit or delete this later)

(This is also probably because I love the bittersweet endings, although I understand that most people probably hate them)

[bl3ss3dbyt1amat]

misc bg3 companion hc

this is so much. i have no idea and im also sorry. all of the origin companions included under the cut

astarion:

i feel like he claps funny. like hes clapping but its that specific way thats meant to be like quieter? like clapping on the palm of his hand. this might be projection but i feel like hes also the type of person to do like a little clap or a spin or his trademark ridiculous giggle whenever hes happy.

i think that hes prone to dramatics like. like pretending to fall on the floor and die if you say hes actually not on your mind 24/7. oh whats that? you dont think im the prettiest princess in the entire world? well astarion has dramatically fallen to the floor

in the early game astarion most definitely practiced his lines loudly and publicly (in camp). he cant even see himself in the mirror but hes trying to look all suave and being like "shall i compare thee to a summers night" while lae'zel and shadowheart both shout "NO" from across the camp. (can be interpreted as bloodiedblade/wyllstarion but i think wyll would be amused and even finish the quote).

wyll:

this man is probably good with basic medicines and ill die on this hill. hes got aloe vera type shit on him at all times. sure, hes not a cleric or healer or even a bard, but he'll stay with you and try his damned best to cheer you up when youre hurt or sick.

on a related note i feel like wyll would be absolutely DELIGHTED by a bard tav. he would just be so amused and filled with whimsy. never gonna complain about playing, even if its like 2am. just occasionally putting in song requests. hes so incredibly enthusiastic like spinning tav around like "THAT WAS BRILLIANT!!!"

wyll probably keeps houseplants. (minor blazingblade but i feel like karlach would accidentally kill one of the plants and actually begin weeping. once she gets her engine fixed wyll tries to teach her how to garden. this goes weirdly) furthermore i think he like goes around his house like humming merrily and watering his plants and crap

gale:

i dont think hes coordinated at all. like this man is tripping down the stairs on a daily basis. he is dropping his tea, his book, his body, ect. to the point that hes got a habit of just hugging the railing for dear life every time he has to go down a staircase. this made traversing shit like the underdark actually literally horrible. every time he falls karlach is so overly concerned and probably offers to carry him. astarion, to everyones dismay, dies laughing each and every time

pretty sure wyll and shadowheart have a conversation about weird book porn. i am here to say that gale was holding back his power while that conversation happened. gale has read so much book porn and if you knew the real scale of it you would be concerned. tara is concerned at least.

shadowheart:

especially during early game, i feel like shadowheart was literally clenching so hard to avoid admitting cute things were cute. like "oh.. a stray mutt... charming I MEAN IN LIKE A GROSS WAY". she was trying to hard to be all scary and into shar and shit but she just really likes puppies and other animals and crap

if she were modern i feel like she would really like pixar movies (inside out comes to mind for reasons i cannot explain) and wear long jean skirts. i cant explain any of this but it is fact in my mind. even in the bg3 setting i do feel like she would wear very long boxy type skirts. sort of plays into her whole "dark priestess" sort of vibe

shadowheart was sitting in her tent with scissors fucking losing her shit with anxiety trying to cut her own bangs without a mirror. it is a literal miracle from selune that they dont look like complete and total shit. no wonder halsin was surprised. (minor silverheart/shadow'zel: when she first like actually properly noticed what shaodwheart did with her hair, since the initial joke is she cant tell what changed, i think lae'zel was very impressed. she even likened it to like a sort of war paint against shar. also we KNOW lae'zel likes silver)

(can be interpreted as bladeheart/,,, do wyll and shadowheart have a ship name yet? HM. well anyway i think that in conjunction with the previous headcanon about wyll gardening, he and shadowheart garden together and he specially grew her night orchids)

lae'zel:

ever since i looked at her stupid little mindflayer training dummie in camp ive had the image of her in my head very angrily and intensly carving up a turnip to look like a mindflayer. draws a little mean face on it like the worlds most violent six year old. every time she messes up on her little DIY project shes muttering curses in tir'su.

lae'zel will take any opportunity to infodump about githyanki culture. specifically red dragons. if she met a red dragonborn or even maybe a follower of tiamat or some shit she would be so hype. in her "i hate everyone SVAH" way ofc. but like. trying to casually slide trivia into battle conversation or party banter with all the subtlety of an owlbear. "yes... the battle preparations are proceeding as expected... as expected a red dragons hibernation cycle..." and everyone just has to turn their head and ask what the fuck shes talking abt

(can be thought of as silverweave: lae'zel and gale talk in draconic about dragon history and the celestial plane. hes so tickled to have a mutual interest with lae'zel)

no one hears lae'zel laugh but when they do its so weird. like its some weird like hissing sort of sound and everyone has to do a double take and make sure theyre understanding what the fuck is going on for a second. lae'zel is incredibly defensive when people notice it but theyre not trying to be mean

karlach:

before her engine gets fixed but like early on to where shes not used to it, karlach keeps trying to touch things and keeps breaking them. this fills her with genuine despair and she will start crying (everyone in camp has to go on a group effort to calm her down). she just thinks the world is so beautiful and is so sad she cant interact with it

she likes to dance but in like a boot stompin way. karlach is probably just an absolute party animal when she gets her freedom back because honestly in her situation who wouldnt be. SHE JUST GOT TO NOT BE ON FIRE LET THE GIRL PARTY

once shes been fixed to the point where she can touch people, she just never stops. manhandling everyone in the party constantly. oh whats that? tav is on low health? dont worry karlach is sprinting over to put tav on her shoulder. literally any problem can be solved by karlach hugs and i wont be taking feedback on this

[rinriya]

BG3 ending (spoilers)

I finished BG3. And I.. I'm so devastated right now. Not in terms of relief or "oh, such a good game has come to an end, idk what to do next", I just don't understand what happened. I am disappointed. I need to speak out. Otherwise I feel like I can burst into tears because of indignation.

And I beg DON'T READ THE POST FURTHER if you haven't reached the end. There will be plenty spoilers. DON'T READ IF YOU HAVEN'T FINISHED THE GAME.

So. Is this really the end? Is this… what we've been so actively waiting for 3 years? Maybe there will be DLCs no less than another full-fledged act? Otherwise, I cannot understand what was the point MC to do all of this?

I.. damn, this is hard. I waited so long for this game, but now I criticize it. Okay, phew. I'll get myself under control. Phew. Sorry.

We were promised different outcomes, different endings, many choices. But what did we actually get? You either save Orpheus (the Emperor becomes an enemy), or help the Emperor (Orpheus dies), or you/your companion turns into an illithid. And like.. who cares if you continued to refuse the powers. It's unavoidable in any case. You cannot form an alliance, you cannot win without a tadpole. You are linear in your final choice.

Your companions?

Wyll leaves to Avernus. Karlach returns to Avernus. Astarion can no longer stay in the sun, he begins to burn and therefore runs away. That moment… it broke my heart. My MC romanced him, couldn't he followed Star? Was it not possible to add some extra scenes? It doesn't matter to anyone. He ran away? Well meh who cares. Only Shadowheart says something like "oh, how sad, he can no longer walk in the sun."

I wanted to help him damn it! Both him and Karlach. And Lae'zel too, but game not allowed me to do so, forcing to choose: either the giths fate, or your ally. Choose.

I wanted my friends to live happily even without tadpoles! Why the hell I was saving the world, if my companions can't be happy? For the sake of a good ending, I should have let Stari to perform the terrible dark ritual? Or turn Karlach into a squid? Minsc and Jaheira are just fanservice for old fans. More or less good end has Gale (still with bomb inside him), Shadowheart and the Emperor himself.

And what about all my decisions? Where are their consequences? What happened to the vampire spawns? With a grove? With the forest? With Hell, where we killed a mighty devil?! With the Ironhand clan, who now have a new leader? Larian Studios, was it really so hard to write at least in text about everything that happened? Like in DOS2 at least? Or about our companions future life. At least about them!

It feels like even if I decided to play as pure evil.. there would be no difference, because I just don't know what my actions led to. But I can't play evil, I just can't hurt anyone. Yes, I'm boring person who loves happy endings and when everyone doing great.

BG3 received its fame, glory, attention. Obviously will receive a bunch of awards, because its ratings beat all records, but inside me.. there is just emptiness. I can headcanon a happy ending with Astarion, truly free Lae'zel, who will be no longer chased by Vlaakith's servants and Karlach with repaired heart. But it will all be in my head. Not in the game. Baldur's Gate 3.. is like a beautiful (really beautiful) wrapper, but the candy inside turned out to be simple and not very different from the others.

I'm sad. Very sad. And I'm sorry for this flow of words. I had to speak out. Now I feel a bit better. I really want to hear your opinion, because now I'm mentally hurt. I obviously triggered the high expectations for this game and get a painful kick for that.

[loveofnerdsndonuts]

I finally finished drawing the main 4 characters I have played in BG3 (with their love interest)

💜 Meira Thorne, my purple Teifling Tav. She was meant to romance Astarion but Karlach literally stole her (and my) heart!

🩵 Vysandra, the blue Teifling Tav. Again meant for Astarion and while she started there Halsin ultimately won her heart.

🩷 Lily, my pink Teifling Dark Urge. Astarion's "Bhaal Babe" 🤣 (I just about died when he said that line) Lily is a redeemed Durge

🩶 Gwynn, my druid Drow. She and Gale had many ✨magical✨ moments together 😉

Someday I'll finish the playthroughs for my La'Zael and Wyll romance Tavs 😅. I haven't thought of a good character for a Shadowheart romance yet.

[dragonagitator]

How to help Karlach in your post-game fix-it fics:

Assuming you didn't skip a lot of content, we end the game at character level 12 with enough XP to be this >< close to level 13. Level 13 Clerics gain access to the 7th-level spell Regenerate, which can regrow missing body parts.

So Karlach really only needs to chill out in Avernus for like a week while we take Shadowheart out adventuring to get enough XP to level up. Then we can use Helsik's ritual to portal into Avernus and grow Karlach a new heart.

The D&D module Descent Into Avernus has a bunch of useful info on the setting if you want to write about the process of tracking down Karlach once you arrive in Avernus. Since she lived there for 10 years, if this plan is hatched before she's forced to return then she should be able to recommend a meeting spot or somewhere you can leave her a message that you've arrived. Regardless, the Infernal Rapture restaurant in the Wandering Emporium is apparently the only place in Avernus you can get a meal that doesn't taste like ash, and thus that seems like a good spot to plan to meet or wait for someone to eventually pass through.

Removing the infernal engine first to make room for the regenerated heart might be tricky, so take Dammon with you. Since it's been functioning as an artificial heart and Faerun hasn't yet developed the artificial life support technologies used during heart transplants, Karlach will almost certainly briefly die at least once during the process, so also load up on Revivify scrolls.

You may need to cast Revivify more than once if she technically dies multiple times during the process because death and resurrection in D&D aren't just biological processes; they're also recalling the soul to the body. BG3 was very generous with the time limit (IIRC it just has to be done before the next long rest), but standard D&D rules are that it must be cast within a minute of death. To be on the safe side, I'd recommend spamming Revivify once per minute until the "surgery" is complete.

Getting back out of Avernus could also be tricky, so you likely need to leave someone behind in Baldur's Gate to periodically perform the ritual to reopen the portal for your return.

(My "Modern Girl in Faerun" self-insert WIP was originally going to be just a retelling of the events of the game, but I've already got enough post-game plotlines for a sequel and I'm nowhere close to finish writing the first story yet lol. Like yes Gale I will return to Waterdeep with you, but we gotta do a thing for Karlach first. And then even once we're back from Avernus, wedding planning in Waterdeep might hit a few hiccups with the events of Dragon Heist and Dungeon of the Mad Mage unfolding in the background. Damnit, Volo, we're on our way to a cake tasting appointment, we don't have time for this shit, go recruit someone else.)

[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.

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

“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. 

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

[kitthenameless]

I finished my BG3 evil durge run!

Evil runs were clearly not the intended vision, judging from how spotty the content is. But I did see some new stuff, and the new ending cinematic goes hard. (I did the evil Tav ending.) Overall, I had a lot of fun really leaning into the evil, and getting a whole little movie in the end was a nice finale.

Also this was my first Tactician run, though I had 5-6 people for most fights, and my durge could fly. Still, was a higher difficulty than I've done before, so *pats self on back*

Anyway, here's the summary of my Act 2 and Act 3. Warning for general spoilers and evil ending screenshots at the end!

Not much happened in Act 2. Killed Isobel but spared Aylin and managed to get her and Jaheira to join camp. Poor Gale tried to save the gnomes by opening their cell once the guards were all dead, but they just died outside. Astarion broke up with Durge (Remiel), but there were never feelings involved anyway. I made a whole post about my mess of a Myrkul fight in which I decided to loose a spectator instead of reloading lol. Other than that, they did what they had to do and moved on, leaving the lands cursed.

Then it was onto Act 3. Memories rushing back after the coronation, Remiel decided to go give the Archduke a little private visit. Gortash warned him not to come back without the netherstones, but he doesn't take orders from Gortash. And he needed to remind him of that ;-)

In the city, I couldn't figure out how to kill the people on the list without initiating combat with everyone nearby, so the group started kidnapping people and taking them to the sewers to kill them there. The fact that you can technically do that (by exploiting fast travel) is a lot funnier to me than it should be. Also met this mysterious man!

Continued doing evil things. (Skip this paragraph if you don't care about the list of evil choices.) Got into the Murder Tribunal, sacrificed Jaheira, and killed Valeria to become an Unholy Assassin. Killed Thrumbo. Went to the Society of Brilliance where they found a massacre and met the gith egg baby all grown up. Made a deal with the hag. Broke into House of Hope just to steal Raphael's valuables and kill his boy toy. Handed Aylin over to Lorroakan, because Remiel figured it'd be easier to bring Lorroakan under his thumb than Aylin. Handed Shadowheart over to the Sharrans. Did not help Astarion ascend because he didn't want him to have that much power. Still killed Cazador and the spawns though. Regretted killing the spawns when all the Gur kept calling it a kindness and praised him for doing the "right" thing.

And of course he killed Orin. But he rejected daddy because he decided he wants to do evil for himself.

The only person Remiel has a soft spot for is Gortash. He doesn't want to mind control him, he wants to rule with him sorta, but he still wanted the power for himself and couldn't have Gort getting in the way. So when they met at the Morphic Pool, he (in my headcanon) knocked him out or used poisons to put him to sleep. He even left his crossbow and a healing potion. (But of course they acted like immature children before that.)

Skipped the entire courtyard with invisibility. Got to the final bit of brain quickly, but I failed all attempts to hit it at the Morphic Pool, so it had full HP, and it got dicey at the end. The few characters still alive just barely managed to win before their platform was obliterated.

And then Remiel betrayed everyone and took control of the brain... and the world. *muahahahaha*

The end 🙂 Gosh I love his evil faces lol.

Mods: Kylin's Heads. Silver's Hair Pack. Slutty Closet. Glitzy Horns. Heroes never die - Angel Wings. One of Astralities's skintone mods, I think. Y-Shaped Autopsy Scars. Lokelani's Lavish Livery.

[fourraccoonsinacoat]

Head Full of Ghosts

Pairing: Astarion x Dark Urge

Summary: Takes place during the events of Baldur's Gate 3 and explores the romance between Astarion and the Dark Urge, as well as the friendships and relationships she has with her companions. Plus, everyone gives shit to Gale about his cooking. Tags: Slow Burn, Angst, Pining, Humor, Violence, Friends to Lovers, Developing Friendships, Developing Romance, Spoilers for the Dark Urge and BG3 in general, Dark Urge as Original Female Character Rating: Mature (Will eventually be Explicit, just not there yet.) Current Chapter Count: 3/? Read on AO3 (Will post chapters to Tumblr, as well.) Current Word Count: 13,050

Author Notes: Hello, Tumblr! Longtime lurker, first time poster. BG3 has reignited my love for writing fanfic - I think it's legit been over seven years since I've written a fic. The dry spell has now been broken. BG3 has grabbed me by the throat and pulled me back in and damn, if I'm not enjoying the hell out of it. I've got an ongoing fic on AO3, so I figured why not officially join Tumblr and dive headfirst into the fandom? Should anyone read my silly fic, I dearly hope you enjoy it. All these characters currently live in my head rent free.

Chapter 1: Misfits

The toll house burned as Karlach whooped, exacting rage and fury on everything within the abandoned building. Her glee might have been infectious if it hadn’t been so damn dangerous.

Luckily, Eli and her merry band of misfits had gotten clear of the structure before the worst of the fires caught. They now stood in the middle of the dirt cart path that led to the toll house entryway, watching the scene unfold in front of them with the same morbid curiosity with which townsfolk might watch a public hanging.

Wyll rubbed the back of his neck, cringing slightly as the loud and unmistakable crash of something glass-made reverberated from within the inferno.

“Maybe…” he started hesitantly, then cleared his throat. “Maybe someone should stop her?”  

Honestly, Wyll was too pure for their group of maladjusted headcases. Between being forcibly inducted as Emerald Grove’s newest mediator, and trying to figure out just what in the nine hells was going on with the illithid tadpoles in their brains, Eli had not had much time to get to know Wyll. Like her, he was a warlock, though he was being rather cagey about who or what his patron was. She guessed it had something to do with his contract, and it wasn’t as if she had much room to judge.

Eli couldn’t even remember who the hell her patron was. That knowledge was a gaping black hole in her ruptured memory. Sometimes, late at night, in the stifling silence when the chaos of the day had finally died down, she’d try to recall…anything. Anything about her past life beyond the images of blood, death and rot that swirled in her mind. She was never successful, and her attempts usually ended in a roiling headache. The holes in her brain were deep, dark and remained unknown.    

“These days I’m trying to avoid situations that end with me burnt to ash,” Astarion’s snark brought Eli back to the here and now. “But if you’re confident in your ability to be fire retardant, then by all means,” he finished the thought by motioning towards the building with a bit of a flourish.

The building was now practically engulfed in flames so bright that it was difficult to look at. She was pretty sure she could hear the roof caving in. Eli pinched the bridge of her nose and shut her eyes, the light and sound of it all was causing her already throbbing headache to grow and fester behind her eyes.

“Stop trying to suck the joy out of things, Wyll,” Eli said, with a bit more bite than she had intended.

She couldn’t see it, but she heard the eye roll in his response. “Fine. Far be it from me to deny someone their little moments of destructive bliss.”  

Eli huffed in response and felt a presence move up next to her.

“Another headache?” Shadowheart’s voice wasn’t quite concerned, but it did have a hint of guarded interest, and for Shadowheart that was just as good.

“Think I’m going on day three now,” Eli responded with a groan. She let her hand drop from her face and opened her eyes, blinking back against the influx of light.

No one spoke it out loud, but they all knew the significance of that statement. Three days ago, Eli had woke in the middle of the night to discover Alfira, a kind and gentle tiefling bard, brutalized and dead…by Eli’s own hands. The shame, guilt and confusion from that night was still a gaping and painful wound within. Alfira was a constant and haunting presence, a reminder that her mind and body were not her own. She could recall flashes of memory from that night, and she desperately wished that was not the case.

The fear in Alfira’s eyes was emblazoned upon her brain and it followed her into her dreams. She was not sleeping well, if at all. And the terror that she would once again wake up to find she’d torn open another of her companions, one of her friends…it was enough to fill her nights with nauseating dread.      

“Maybe Gale can cook up a sleeping potion for you when we get back to camp,” Shadowheart suggested with more softness in her voice than Eli was used to. “I’m sure your penchant for rummaging through our wares until all hours of the morning isn’t helping things,” she chided a bit more coolly.

Eli gave her a non-committal half smile. She’d taken to perusing their camp’s growing hoard of books during her sleepless nights. Reading kept her mind busy, and off of other darker thoughts that stalked her steps.    

“Given the unholy smells being extruded by Gale’s cookpot the other night, I’m not sure I’d trust him to brew a sleeping potion someone is expected to wake up from,” Astarion said cheerily, stepping up to Eli’s other side opposite Shadowheart. “Besides, there’s nothing wrong with a little extracurricular nighttime activity.”

The suggestive smirk he gave Eli caused the pit of her stomach to tighten.

“Yes, because reading is so titillating,” she deadpanned back at him. Astarion was a shameless flirt, and Eli wasn’t in a mood to deal with him while her head was splitting open from the inside out.

Astarion, however, was not dissuaded.

“Darling, it’s not my fault if you choose a boring activity.” He emphasized the word ‘boring’ and Eli knew exactly where this was going before they even got there.

He leaned in closer and she caught the faint scent of spice and rosemary that always lingered in the space where he’d been. Nine hells, why did she know that?

“You know I’m only a few tents away if you ever want to try a more stimulating activity,” he purred. A small shiver ran up her spine as she felt the breath from his words against her neck.

A derisive snort came from Eli’s other side. “Really, Astarion, were you never taught not to play with your food?” Shadowheart said with the hint of a smirk, which turned into a full grin when Eli shot her a dark glare.

Eli suddenly felt very aware of a certain spot on her neck as she looked back to Astarion, whose red eyes had been lingering there before they flicked back up to her face. She met his gaze and thought she saw something hungry flash across his expression before he looked to Shadowheart.

“Call it an appetizer,” Astarion replied in that smooth and sultry voice that danced so effortlessly from his lips. “Something to get the blood pumping before the main course.”

Eli was starting to feel something akin to what a rabbit may feel when being circled by wolves. Astarion had inched closer to her as he spoke and teased, pushing into her personal space with bravado and squaring up to her like an animal on the prowl. Eli had experienced this behavior from him before, and she hated it. Not because of any issues with personal boundaries - she didn’t even know if she had issues with personal boundaries, considering how full of holes her memory was. No, she hated it because of how her body responded. And she doubted it was the sort of response Astarion was looking for.

All of his bravado, his confidence, how sure of himself he seemed when he pressed near to her, playing his games. It triggered an anger in her she didn’t recognize. A cruel and dominating rage that wanted nothing more than to grab him by the throat and force him to his knees, demanding respect. She was no rabbit fearful of wolves, no plaything for him to tease. She’d flay him sternum to navel for his insolence.

“Stop,” Eli muttered, moreso to herself than to Astarion.

Her head was pounding as she tried to shove those unwanted and vicious thoughts back down into the unknown void of herself. She took a tentative step backwards and nearly collided with Shadowheart, who managed to step quickly out of the way. Eli felt a hand on her shoulder and reflexively flinched away, internally trying to wrest herself from the cloying vile madness that was building in her brain.

“Sorry,” Eli heard Shadowheart say.

Glancing to Shadowheart, Eli saw she had her hands raised in a conciliatory gesture. Likely, Shadowheart had reached out to try and steady Eli. The problem was, Eli didn’t trust herself when her mind went red and hazy.

She didn’t want anyone touching her in those moments. She didn’t want anyone ending up like Alfira…

“That’s enough of that,” Wyll’s strong voice held a very clear note of annoyance in it. “Leave her be and let’s get back to camp. Lest we get lost out here after the sun goes down.”

Eli appreciated the sentiment, but she almost wished Wyll had stayed silent.

“Ah, the dashing Blade of Frontiers here to save the pretty damsel from the dangerous vampire,” Astarion said, with more than a hint of contempt to his words.

Astarion and Wyll did not play nice. They reminded Eli of two dogs posturing and vying for control when they were near one another. And, unfortunately, everyone else got pissed on in the process.  

Astarion continued to bait the hook, voice sickly suggestive. “Hoping she’ll offer you a place to sheath your blade tonight if you play hero?”

Eli wheeled on Astarion with a glare that only succeeded in making the elf smile wider. For all of his pompous confidence, Eli did take note of the fact that Astarion had backed off from her. At least in the physical sense. He seemed more than happy to continue his verbal assault.

“You vulgar bastard!” Wyll barked back, angrily stepping towards Astarion who was grinning like a feral cat. Wyll was taking the bait.

“Lolth’s rotten nickers!” Eli exclaimed, exasperated and over all of this. “If the two of you want to have it out, fine! Just know I’m not asking Withers to bring either of you miserable assholes back if one of you kills the other!”

The blood in her head was pounding again, pulsating painfully behind her eyes. Eli threw up her hands and turned away from the squabbling men, only to see that tiefling barbarian, Karlach, watching all of them with a grin.

“You lot seem fun as hell!” she proclaimed with a laugh as the toll house continued to blaze like an inferno behind her. “Still cool if I tag along?”

“Yeah, sure,” Eli responded. “We all seem to be in the same shithole of a boat, so if you want to grab a paddle I’m not stopping you.”

Eli smirked and Karlach’s face lit up with excitement. “That’s the spirit!”

The next few moments were a blur. Moments in which Eli felt very much like a passenger in her own body. Astarion wasn’t letting up, and from behind her Eli heard his goading voice as he continued to taunt Wyll.

“You know, Wyll, if you’re ever curious about what our dear, sweet Eli tastes like, all you have to do is ask,” Astarion’s sly words were dripping with inuendo.

Eli snapped.

She rounded on Astarion like a displacer beast loosed from hell, stepping into his personal space just as he had done to her earlier. Eli, however, was not playing games. Her head felt like it was exploding from the inside and her vision was beginning to swim. She needed to get out of here. She needed to leave before she lost control. She needed to put this flippant, disrespectful maggot in his place.

“Would you FUCK OFF with your self-aggrandizing bullshit!” she roared.

Eli was up in Astarion’s face now, all venom and rage as she tried to maintain enough control to keep herself from driving a dagger through his eye like the monster inside of her was demanding.

“I’ve let you feed on me ONE time, and that has been the extent of any nightly activities between us,” she growled, locking eyes with the vampire spawn.

Astarion was a few inches taller than her, but in this moment it didn’t matter. They had all seen Eli fight. They’d witnessed the absolute carnage and power that she was capable of, and while most of that ability came from whatever deal she’d made with her patron, they had all sensed something else beyond her skill as a warlock. Something foul and brutal and violent that she seemed desperate to keep restrained.

That thing was leaking out now. Pressing at the barricades in her mind wrestling to break free. It wanted blood and gore and anguish. It wanted out.

“So, keep your pathetic attention-whoring charade in check or I’m going to lock you in a coffin and burry you so fucking deep even the worms won’t be able to find you!” Eli snarled, eyes glittering with a mania that indicated she was far from joking.

Eli didn’t know the chord she’d struck in Astarion – she didn’t even know if he had chords to be struck. She didn’t know how her words wrenched unbidden memories to the surface of his mind, like puss oozing from an infected wound. She didn’t know the torments inflicted upon him. Didn’t know that her words caused his chest to tighten with anxiety as unwanted recollections flashed in his mind. Days, months, years trapped in lonely confinement at the whim of his abuser. Locked away and starved because he said something displeasing or because he begged to be spared the agony of having his scars cut open once again because his master was bored and wanted to play.

Astarion had gone very still in the face of Eli’s wrath. And as the haze of anger in her mind dissipated and the realization of what she’d just said crashed down upon her, her eyes went wide and she took a quick step back. Her head was a mess and she felt like she was coming up out of a dream and seizing control of herself once more.

Shadowheart, Wyll and Karlach stood by, staring with a mix of shock and morbid curiosity. They were not going to get involved, but they damn sure were going to watch this disaster play out.

“I…uh…” Eli stuttered as she pulled herself back from the brink.

Her movements felt lethargic and wrong, as if she were a step removed from the actions her body was taking. But she kept hold of her mental steering wheel and willed herself to maintain control.

“Fuck. I’m sorry, Astarion,” she lifted her gaze, wanting to meet his eyes so she could explain and apologize again.

But Astarion wasn’t looking at her. At least, not at her face. His eyes were fixated on the collar of the burgundy undershirt she wore below her chest armor. His expression fluctuated somewhere between grim detachment and smoldering hatred, crimson eyes glassy and distant.

Eli felt an unnerving sensation of being looked through.

“Astarion?” she questioned, voice softer and tinged with an edge of worry.

She took a tentative step forward and raised a hand towards him. Had he been struck with an incantation? A curse? Maybe Shadowheart or Wyll had cast something as a means of intervention?

Eli was about to turn and ask them when Astarion flinched back from her outstretched hand as if she’d struck him. His eyes snapped to hers and burned with a hostility she’d never seen from him, not even during the famously vehement rows he and Gale would get into over Gale’s cooking (the arguments usually ended with Gale shouting, “You aren’t even going to eat any of it, anyway!” and storming off in a dither).

“Don’t,” Astarion snarled through clenched teeth and a tight jaw. “Don’t fucking touch me!”

Icy loathing dripped off his every word and Eli suddenly recognized the defensive posture he’d put himself in, leaning back and away from her with hands ready to go for a weapon or even swing at her should she move closer. He reminded her of an animal trapped in a corner, baring its fangs at something…

At something dangerous. At something intent on hurting them.

Shit. Had her outburst really been that bad? Had he really thought she was going to attack him?

A pang stabbed through her stomach as she realized…of course he had. Because of what she’d done to Alfira. She’d already proven she was capable of brutalizing the people around her, no matter how innocent they were. They thought she was dangerous. Astarion, a godsdamn vampire who’d crept up on her in the middle of the night, thought she was dangerous.

She needed to get herself under control. This wasn’t a sustainable lifestyle. At least not for the people around her…

“Astarion, I’m really fucking sorry,” she backed away from him, giving him space and bringing her hands back to her sides. “I’m not even entirely sure what happened. Things got…hazy. I’m really sorry.”

It was a piss poor excuse, and an even worse apology. She knew. And it seemed he agreed.

“You can choke on your apology,” Astarion snapped as he shoved past her. “If the tadpole turns you tonight, it wouldn’t be too soon.”

The sheer venom of his words stung as painfully as if he’d stabbed her right there on the spot. She opened her mouth to reply, but could think of nothing worthwhile to say. So she snapped it closed and watched him walk off down the path that led back to camp.

Well, some fantastic leader she was turning out to be. She already didn’t understand why anyone thought she, with her magnitude of memory loss and murder happy tendencies, was the ideal candidate for a position of authority. She was awful at this shit!

Eli had spent a lot of time combing through her fractured psyche, trying to piece together any semblance of facts about who she was. In all that self-reflection, she’d concluded there were two things she was really good at. Killing people and drinking.

Fuck, what she wouldn’t give to be doing either one of those things right now instead of this.

She turned a miserable expression on her remaining companions. “Is it too late to go back to the mind flayer ship and just surrender?”

Wyll laughed and sided up to her, clapping a hand on her shoulder and trying to be reassuring.

“I’m sure he’ll get over it,” he said. Then, with a somewhat darker smirk, “And if he doesn’t, we’ll just stake him. Luckily for us, our benevolent illithid captors saw fit to crash us in the middle of a forest. Trees everywhere.”

Wyll grinned while Eli just gave him a deadpan stare. He wasn’t helping. Maybe he wasn’t too pure for their little group, after all. Maybe he was just as much of a dumbass as the rest of them.

Eli looked to Shadowheart, who simply rolled her eyes before glancing after Astarion as he continued to walk further and further from the party.

“I bet he just needs some time to cool down,” Shadowheart mused. “Men can be irrationally dramatic when they put their minds to it.”

The grin on Wyll’s face fell as Shadowheart started to follow Astarion down the path. Eli trailed after her, glancing to Karlach in the hopes of making some sort of conversation to distract herself from all the pain and noise in her head.

“I’m just happy to be here,” Karlach laughed.