#and with Baldur's Gate 3 - I was able to flesh him out a bit more!

[verothexeno]

Etnar the Barbarian

Race: Green Dragonborn Sex: Male Age: Mid 30's Class: Barbarian - Wildheart (Bear) Special buff: Loviatar's Love Other: Can do minor cleric spells (healing, sacred flame), knows the "speak to animals" ritual. Romance in BG3: Shadowheart

Backstory:

Etnar was born in a little farmer village North of Baldur's Gate Outer City. He was barely a teenager when it got invaded by raiders and slavers, the village razed off the map and most of its inhabitants killed - Etnar's parents killed before him. Fueled by rage, the young Dragonborn managed to defend himself with any tools he could find, his actions soon attracting the attention of the slaver's boss; a man going by the nickname "Onyx". Captured alive, Etnar became a prized possession - only to be thrown into a made-up ring as a mere fighting dog. Onyx had assembled quite the collection of fighters over the years and was making good money over thugs of any background making bets. Some could even bring their own "champions", only to see who would come out alive.

The green Dragonborn quickly rose in fame, only by necessity and survival instinct. Over the years he grew into a mountain to be feared by most, if not all, slaves. But the first one to talk to him was an old human man, a cleric, brought in by trade and kept imprisoned close to Etnar. The years had not been kind to him and he had been a slave for so long; he knew that if he were to fight against that green menace, that would be his final battle. Instead he took the chance to discuss and knew there was still some good beneath those brutal scales... He taught Etnar some minor healing spells as a departing gift and a flicker of hope. Weeks later, forced to kill the old cleric, Etnar silently swore that one day he'd get out of this hell - even if that meant killing everyone in his path.

Then came along Maelon, a half-drow.

He had been captured in the dead of the night, after coming out of a tavern in the Lower city. At first there wasn't anything special about him; he was scared, loud, demanding to be released. Thrown in a cell next to Etnar, the hald-drow was already trying to get the Dragonborn's attention, only to be laughed at by the guards and told that there was no use trying to talk to his executioner... The first few days, both were silent. Etnar could tell the other was studying him - maybe out of fear, or out of scheming. When Maelon presented himself, the green one listened - maybe out of curiosity, or out of faint hope... There was this hunger for life the half-drow kept clinging to. There was no way he was going to die in this pit. There was no way he was going to be a slave. Maelon first thought that his pleas would fall into deaf ears, that he was only doomed to rant to muscles without a brain until the very hour of his death. So imagine his surprise when the barbarian solely nodded with a "I'm in".

The plan was simple: they would both get into the ring, let the battle start as intended, find the best cleared path, wreck havoc and run for their lives. By Etnar's brute force and Maelon's studies and gifted talent in fire magic, the duo brought chaos over the hideout. Yet in their escape, some slavers remained alive - Onyx included.

There was no time to dwell on that error. The duo ran and made their way to Baldur's Gate, finally free. Etnar and Maelon remained together when they reached the city, developping a friendship that was akin to a brotherly bond. Over the years they were able to fend for themselves and Etnar was finally learning to live again. But he never stopped searching for Onyx. Every scraps of information he could get his hands on soon led him to depart from the city, alone and against Maelon's pleas. Etnar had to kill Onyx. He had to get his revenge and put his past misery to rest...

Searching far and wide, he never found the man - only to be hinted that the slaver was making his way towards Baldur's Gate once more. As Etnar was heading back to the city and back to his friend after 3 years of search, nothing could've prepared him to be captured by mind flayers... *tun tuunnn*

There's a lot I'm skipping here, but I could always write down encounters and scenes in seperate posts. Overall, Etnar was a slave/"gladiator" for around ~15+ years, then escaped and finally became the good person he was supposed to be! Heavily against slavers and thugs in general, will always be kind and helpful to kids in needs, profound respect for animals and nature - the freedom aspect of it. He's a bit oblivious/stupid for some stuff at times due to his lack of life experience, and if someone he dislikes is getting annoying, he will be equally, if not more, annoying and harsh.

My best boy 💜✨

[senualothbrok]

Hello friend!! I have been thinking about undiagnosed sorcerer Gale a lot lately, so I am making it your problem too.

You only gradually become aware of it, and once you are you wonder how you hadn't noticed. Maybe it's the passage of time, each day one step away from the nautiloid and the Netherbrain and all of it--each day that much more distance from Gale's last audience with Mystra. The burden of the Orb hadn't been yours, but it had been heavy enough that you felt lighter when you saw his face as he stepped out that portal. Maybe, like the wounds you both bring back with you to Waterdeep, your mind needed the chance to heal before it could process even more.

More in this case is living with Gale. It had been one thing being on the road, chased from danger to danger; all you'd been able to think those nights you'd collapsed into his tent with him was we made it, with a fervent hope he'd be next to you when you woke and still next to you the night following. Now, you lie down with him night after night and wake up to him morning after morning, and as you let yourself accept that this is how things will be, you start to notice.

The tower is suffused with magic.

It's not only the spells and wards that Gale has woven into the very heart of it, or the numerous enchantments he's created to make life easier, or the artifacts and books you've brought home with you. It's Gale himself.

Surrounded by magic and slow to shed the exhaustion that's clung to you since Baldur's Gate, you need some time to sense the difference, but once you do it's there, a touch on your sleeve or a whisper to catch your attention. When you search for it you can't see it, there's no breeze to stir the curtains or the profusion of flowers Gale brings home day after day. You don't smell that dreaded rosewater or taste cloying honey-sweetness on your tongue. It's a sense that goes beyond sense, speaking to the parts of you that lie under your bones and between your nerves--it's something that escapes your words just as you think you've found the ones to describe it. The sense of him wraps around you like a comforting memory, smoothing its unfelt fingers across your unquiet spirit; the happiness you feel, the life that suffuses you, doesn't compel you but invites you just to be.

It's different when you're in bed together, like tonight, when Gale is salting your skin with kisses. Tonight he's all around you, flowing into and filling every part of you like water, Gale himself spilling over at the edges. He's not glowing but you feel alight with him, woven into him, his threads twisting around yours to draw you close. You're not in one of his illusions--the world around you is very real, if hazy and distant, and Gale's body is hungry, solid flesh and bone against yours. The sensation doesn't vanish even when Gale pauses to ask you what's wrong and you realize you're staring at him.

"I can feel you," you say awkwardly.

"I'd hope so," Gale says laughingly, though he notices your uncertainty and sits up, bracing himself back on his haunches. "What is it?"

You explain as best you can, though every word out of your mouth sounds more foolish and inaccurate than the last. You find yourself tangled in a thicket of your own making and are just about to panic your way out of it when Gale says, faintly embarrassed, "Oh. That--that hasn't happened in quite some time. Years."

I'm so sorry, friend, that it's taken me so long to reply to your once again beautiful piece. I feel like my writing is pretty awful at the moment so I do apologise. I just wanted to get it out though (despite being in a weird creative space and putting off writing a little bit!)

Thank you so much, as always, for your exquisite work <3 ---

You do not need to ask. There is an intuition that exists between you, so that you often know his intentions before he speaks, and he senses your desire before you tell him. You know that part of this comes from the joining of your souls, sealed by your love. But you suspect the other part comes from something altogether different, that sensation that you cannot yet name.

“Admittedly, it wasn’t as innocuous as what you’ve described, back then.”

He pulls you closer, as if he needs your skin on his, even though you feel his being like a flame inside you.

“By all accounts, there was more force to it. It was more of an explosion, if you would.”

You arch an eyebrow. He flashes you that languid half smirk that drives you wild. You wonder if he feels your arousal as his own, like two rivers flowing into each other. He watches you with dancing eyes, savouring your reaction.

“Not that kind of explosion.”

You laugh a little. His lips are smooth and warm as they graze the tips of your fingers. For a while, you fumble for words to explain, ever grateful for his patience.

“It feels like a spell,” you manage eventually. “Even when you’re not casting. Like I’m floating in the Weave, except that you’re the Weave. You’re all around me, inside me, everywhere.”

He gazes at you, fingering this chin absently. And then he nods. There is a kind of solemnity in the gesture, the slight gathering of Gale’s brow. You wonder how long Gale has hidden this part of his nature, or shied away from examining it too closely.

“When I was a child, I learned to control it. But with you…”

He buries his head into the crook of your neck, the heat of his sigh blazing like your pulse. There is a force to it, then, an ache to his longing. You feel it like a flood.

“I want all of you,” he rasps. “And I want to give you all of me. Perhaps that’s why.”

Your open mouth finds his, wet and desperate. His breaths are ragged, swirling into yours like a clouds swallowing clouds. He is a warm bath, lapping at every inch of you. You are about to drown yourself in him when he draws back, so abruptly you feel bereft.

“Does it disturb you?”

The wavering in his eyes almost makes you wince. Traces of his uncertainty, the measure against which he still judges himself. You shake your head sharply, immediately.

“No.” You press yourself against him, swelling with tenderness and desire. “The more I find out about you, the more I love you. Nothing could make me love you less.”

He hesitates for a moment. You feel, as well as see, the last of his doubt fading. His smile is a ripple of light through you, a pleasure almost as intense as pain.

“That’s a relief,” he whispers, as his fingers flutter downwards, and his taste becomes your own.

[whalesforhands]

singe the tales i (satosugu x reader)

adventuring is never what it seemed to be, not when your companions are the loopy sort.

happy october! note that there will be VERY HEAVY references/inspirations from baldur’s gate 3/terraria, some anime (goblin slayer, grimgar of fantasy and ash) throughout this story, haha

warnings: fantasy au, slightly suggestive, depictions and a bit graphic descriptions of gore

masterlist next

gojo - a nobleman sorcerer from a lineage of great honour and power. an outstanding, exceptionally strong one who preceded even the most gifted of his ancestors. unafraid to get up close and personal with enemies and allies alike despite his role in the party, truly void of any fear. you wonder if he notices all the little stolen glances from you at that pretty face of his whenever he unties his bandages…

geto - summoner of sorts… a druid? necromancer? dragon— tamer? just what is he? and how is he summoning these things?regardless, all beasts, exotic creatures and even humans alike flock to him, appearing with a snap of his fingers. sly, charming and an overall magnet for trouble that begets your curiosity.

ieiri - a mysterious sorceress who seems to be lacking in terms of raw power. could you even call her a sorceress at this rate…? despite the lack of magical attacks, her healing powers and knowledge of medicine are undeniable, despite being no cleric. why does she— have such a strange allure? your eyes can’t help but stray to her whenever she enters the guild.

you - the guild receptionist who does their best. with this specific outpost quite frankly being in the middle of nowhere, you were trained in minor restoration spells, a few of the more unconventional magic tricks, and have exceptional prowess in protection spells.

——

“Little receptionist!!!” The bustling of the small guild hall rings a pleasant chirp through your ears, yet you’re still able to pick up the overly excited greetings to you.

“Oh, welcome ba-CK!” You choke when you catch a whiff of the spine-crawling odour, disgust and distaste heavy on your tongue. Rotting flesh and spoiled milk, the scent trailed heavily into the small guild hall, surrounding beginner adventurers unable to handle it, hands slapped over their mouths as they ran out, fighting the urge to throw up.

Slathered in blood and dripping with the stench of decaying entrails, the trio strolled in. Shoko is looking a little less for wear, face deadpan and quite frankly offended as she watched the already empty guild practically become void of people. Remnants of dried blood, bits of organs sticking to her cloak, her hood over her head to hide the shame of looking like this.

Satoru looks far more… Put together, if you could call it that. Not clean, not an inch at all. His stark white hair has been stained with coagulated bits of red, his face having a streak of dried blood just under one of his eyes, gloves dripping a fresher red as it gripped onto the sack he was holding onto. His armor was… practically non-existent, hanging on by a thread with his exposed undershirt revealed the torn up cloth, the lack of cuts despite the tears certainly of Shoko’s magic.

He practically perks up, his excited demeanor growing even more restless when he realizes he had correctly guessed that it was in fact you manning the front desk, nearly tripping over himself to reach you as he left his teammates behind.

“One gnoll packlord head; delivered!” He’s sending you a two-fingered salute, the bloodied sack starting to seep onto the counter as viscous blood made its presence known, bag tied crudely to outline the beheaded canine. His face ushered a cute blush, awaiting your praise as he watched your lovely face, awaiting that pretty smile and fond eyes that upturn at the sight of—

“And we managed to wipe out the entirety of the pack.” Suguru’s quiet voice draws your attention towards him, noticing his presence as he appears suddenly, his hair in slight disarray from his usual bun, sticky blood on his worn out, once pristine clothing which had been torn through to reveal disintegrating chainmail underneath. “I hope we managed to do it to the quest’s details.”

(And hopefully, to yours as well. Are you happy they managed to help get rid of knolls for you, on a quest you personally offered them? Gods, it felt amazing to be someone you relied on.)

“I-I appreciate your timely completion of my quest, but—“ You nearly want to hurl at the mere smell as the last of the few adventurers ran off, desperate to escape this overwhelming stench as your professionalism fought to surface. “Please wash up now…!”

(“So? So?! Do you like it’s head? I cut it off myself!” If Gojo Satoru had a tail, it’d be wagging uncontrollably in front of you. His sparkling eyes from behind those bandages of his can almost be seen from how excited he was.

He could’ve just cut off one of its ears as proof… But they really went beyond what was needed to bring you this decapitated head.

“Thank you.” The smile on your face is absolutely radiant as you look towards the three, the twitch of your nose and the scrunch of your face held back through pure dedication. “I really—“ The air tastes absolutely putrid. “Cannot thank you all enough!”)

——

“Help a girl out, won’t you?” Shoko twirls a strand of her hair with dismissive motions, the tobacco pipe held between her fingers waiting to be set alight as she eyes you, concentrating on the way your hair swayed with every light movement.

“Of course, Miss Ieiri. But I really am not a big fan of you smoking…” She’s leaning in close, the soft fragrance of her bergamot scented wash wafting near just as your fingertip alights with a small flame, a small pout on her lips when you pull away, eyes returning back to your work as she leaned over the counter. “It’s bad for your health.”

“It’s only for a little while.” Her cheeks puff slightly, like a child getting lectured. Don’t be too disappointed in me.”

Her playful tone causes your lips to quirk up in fondness. “Of course not, Miss Ieiri. But please do put it out after a while.” You suppose she deserves it, after her tough mission.

“Ieiri this, Ieiri that… Have you taken a liking to my last name, perhaps?” She ends with chuckle as you pause in your administrations, looking up from the tangerine you were peeling for her.

“It is quite a pretty last name, Miss Ieiri. However, it is proper protocol to maintain my professionalism, after all.” A practiced saccharine smile and a polite tone. Just part of the job to you, or is it?

(You wouldn’t exactly be peeling fruits for just any adventurer, right?)

She laughs at your overtly rehearsed, stiff tone. “Lighten up a little. I’ve already told you.” A smile is upon her face as she takes another breath from the pipe, the smoke swirling about her in an alluring whiff. “Shoko is perfectly fine.”

“Well then—“ Your bashful face is a surprise, a very welcome one to her as your eyes shift about nervously, the creeps of a hot blush upon your cheeks, a hand placed upon your face as if to slow the heat of embarrassment. “If you don’t mind, Sho—“

It’s hard to remember, that in this small guild, where hardly any adventurers drop by, calls for a lack of traffic even by your own coworkers who inadvertently take too long of a break.

“Ahhhh! (name)!” The embarrassed cry of one of them doesn’t escape you with the loud whine reverberating throughout the wooden halls. “How could you not tell me the Gojo Satoru was back?!” The older elf cried, skin burning up as she hurriedly fixed her uniform, adjusting her beret before her hands latched onto your shoulders, shaking you about as you catch the falling fruit before it gets pummeled onto the ground.

“Hi, Miss Ieiri!” Her greeting to the girl is short-lived as she moves to hold both of her hands in yours, frazzled gaze speeding to meet your own. “(name), I’m begging you!”

“Please, please!! Take over my shift! I want to go see him!” She’s hurriedly, and very suddenly dabbing on a red far too mature for her complexion, dabbing powder onto her skin as she fixes herself, cosmetic products strewn all over your once near desk, her hands combing through her locks as Shoko puts out her pipe.

“Sylrel, you look perfectly gorgeous as always.” You’re shaking your head as you take in the sight of the pretty elven maiden, patting down the beret on her head and adjusting her brooch. “I’m sure he would think so too.”

“But he doesn’t!” She’s whining as Shoko opens her mouth, letting you plop a slice of the sweet fruit in as she chews delightedly.

“Do me another favour and find him, pleaseeeeee?!”

(“So do I take your shift first or—“

“Find him, please! Or— Wait, stall him! I can’t have him find me whilst I look like this!”

Shoko misses the tangerine slice you were about to feed her when you pull away to watch your coworker, a pout on her lips as a small glare is directed towards you. As if awaiting your attention to be directed back to her.

“Oh, sorry Shoko.” You hurriedly press the fruit back against her lips. “Just… How do I even stall him…?”

(You’re finally using her name. She’s satisfied.)

Shoko doesn’t even hesitate to answer through her chews. “All you have to do is talk to him, really.” Her elbow is propped up onto the counter as she holds her chin, a smirk on her lips as she licked up the remnants of the sweet fruit.

“I’m serious.”)

——

“Oh, Mister Geto.” You greet the half-naked sorcerer, fresh out of the shower as a smaller towel is sat upon his head, long hair hanging over his shoulders as your eyes start to falter at the sight of the extremely attractive man before you out of politeness, dressed down in clothing far more relaxed to suit his mood, his pants hanging low on his hips. His arm cages you in further into the corner as you’re trapped between the wall and his frame.

(You didn’t expect to be in this situation at all. But… He is just Geto Suguru, the humble gentleman of an adventurer.)

“Did you enjoy your shower?” Your smile is as polite as ever, sweet and oh, so clueless. Even daringly helping to pat the towel down onto the wet locks of his hair.

It makes him kind of mad, really.

“You know…” He trails off, large hand coming up to tuck a strand of your hair back, his palm brushing against the soft skin of your face, watching as you blink up at him in confusion, tilting your head into his hand and letting him hold your face.

He clicks his tongue.

“It’s good that you’re so clueless at times.” But it gets on his nerves. So frustratingly, adorably hard to resist. Perhaps you need a lesson?

He leans down to your ear, lightly blowing to tease you as he watches you squirm, your body lightly jumping as your hand hurriedly rushes up to cup your ear. Just what is he doing?

You hear him chuckle, a pat descending onto your head and displacing your beret as you allow him to do so.

“It’s cute.” You’re cute.

“Thank… you?” You’re still smiling as you try to put your thoughts together. Was there a bug by your ear? Lint in your hair? Oh, whatever. “Would you mind having dinner together with the rest of your party?”

His chuckle is hearty. “And when have I ever turned down an offer from a beautiful being such as yourself?” He’s letting your warmth linger on his skin before he begrudgingly forces himself to pull away, watching as your hands slowly reached up to fix his hair, tucking wet strands away to reveal his face as you stare head on into his eyes.

“I’m happy to hear that, then.”

And he’s happy to see that smile on your face.

(“Ah, Sylrel was looking for Mister Gojo. Where is he? Still showering?” Just as he opens his mouth to answer you, a shout sounds out from the showers.

“SU. GU. RU!” Angry yells akin to a chihuahua’s bark echo from the ajar door. “I’M USING YOUR SOAP!”)

masterlist next

Notes:

A sorcerer differs from a wizard. A sorcerer is someone whose affinity for magic is innate, whilst wizards study magic in order to wield it, much like a learned skill.

Geto and Gojo are nowhere near in a romantic relationship together. (Yet.) Their relationship is described as a ‘love-hate rivalry’ more than anything. Their inability to cooperate together has costed them several quests.

Your feelings towards the SSS trio? You care about them. They helped you plenty of times ever since you got this job recently. You really appreciate it.

Sylrel. A high elf that adopted you and raised you as her own. Basically the closest thing you have to a mother figure.

*Gnolls. Born from the gluttony of bloated hyenas feasting on human remains, emerging from their four-legged cages of flesh and lesser being, bursting out as a human-hyena hybrid that walks on two legs all whilst maintaining low intelligence, predominantly canine features and a never ending hunger.

nvy’s aftertalk:

hi guys i’m addicted to baldur’s gate 3 haha. i don’t think i can ever write modern aus properly or at all after playing that game. writing this made me realize how much of a stupid geek i am

do u like this series 👉👈, if u don’t it’s fine (i will cry if u don’t)

[karniss-bg3]

Where do you think Kar’niss got his sword? It’s a very nice sword. Not just some off the rack gear. And named as well—-

*drags palms over face* This effin’ SWOOOORD! It has haunted my nightmares since Kar’niss’ corpse first dumped it into my Tav’s lap. I’ve dug and dug and dug and I’m left with more questions than answers. Knowing my luck there is some obscure text or throwaway dialogue somewhere I’ve missed that might lend me a better clue. Damn you Baldur’s Gate 3, you’re too bloody big.

So, I began to write out this big blob of text going into the history of drow weaponry, hues of metals, in-game model comparisons, the stats on the damn thing, and so forth. I was out here looking like this guy for two hours.

Truth is, it’s really difficult to pinpoint the source of Kar’niss’ weapon. Not because there aren’t clues, but because Larian reuses longsword models so much that looking at the weapon alone isn’t solid enough. I almost came to the conclusion that it was an original drowcraft sword pre-1370’s DR until I discovered another sword model that was identical and not tied to drow at all. That and if it was truly a drowcraft weapon forged via faerzress methods then Larian would’ve changed the rules on how they worked. Which makes sense. It’s a fun bit of lore, but it would be a pain in the ass for a game mechanic. Who wants their badass weapons destroyed or losing all magical abilities when you leave the Underdark?

“ME ME ME,” said no one.

The only thing I can say for certain is that it is a drow forged weapon because it carries a buff that only activates if a drow elf is wielding it. It also seems to be perfect for a drider since it also has ensnaring strands, an attack that does 1d10 slashing damage and possibly enwebs the target. This works in conjunction with the added 1d4 poison damage to restrained targets. The swords description may hold the best clue of its origin:

“The trauma of becoming a drider is quickly set aside with a cold arachnid dispassion. This sword follows that disturbing trend - a replenishing poison gland is built within, deployed only against trapped opponents.”

This description and the name, Cruel Sting, lead me to believe the weapon...was a gift.

Imagine Kar’niss fresh from his transformation. He’s dazed, in pain, lost and alone. He’s been exiled from the only home he’s ever known and has lost favor with the Goddess he’s worshiped from birth. His future is uncertain and how long he has left to live is even less so. His mind is shattered, the incoherent thoughts his only remaining company. He hears frantic footsteps approaching from behind him and his already broken heart shrivels more. His kin have come to finish the job, to put him down, so enraged by the offense he caused Lolth. Weak and struggling to keep himself upright he turns to make a last stand, to show strength in his final moments, to die with some level of honor.

His resolve melts into confusion when he sees who is sprinting toward him. The individual would be unknown to us, but well known to him. A childhood friend? A lover? A confidant? Or perhaps someone he fought alongside faithfully for many years. Regardless of whom has arrived a strong bond is present between them. They approach and peer at what Kar’niss has become. Their face twists, a brief flash of sorrow betraying their features. Yet they cannot let it remain, nor are they able to stay with him for too long. Instead, they unsheathe a sword they brought with them, hurriedly holding it up to Kar’niss. Naturally he flinches at first, expecting the blade to pierce his flesh. The strike never comes, rather the new comer pushes it toward him with urgency, expecting him to take it.

Hesitantly Kar’niss complies, taking the hilt in hand and admiring the beautiful drow craftsmanship. He frowns, his eyes lingering on the one who brought it to him, too stunned to speak.

“It will protect you, Kar’niss,” they said in a hushed tone. “...Goodbye, and good luck.”

Kar’niss could do no more than stand there as their former companion darted off quick as a shot, not willing to run further risk of being seen with the newly transformed abomination. He clutched the sword close to him, the last connection he had to the life he lived before. It would forever act as a reminder of everything he has lost, the cruelest sting of them all.

[paramnesiagirl]

BG3: The Power of Player Narrative

In my most recent multiplayer run of Baldur's Gate 3, the game on everyone's minds, I found myself playing the role of a companion.

I don't mean simply piloting one of those already given to you at the start of the game, no, what I managed to land myself into, was roleplaying a fully fleshed out 'custom companion', Hestia. A blue-haired, somewhat crass, Tempest Cleric of Mysta's domain.

-- She does seem a bit mean, doesn't she? --

Now, while many of us can say that we're used to making up stories for our intrepid adventurers, and designing whole narratives for them, I was surprised by the ability of BG3 to allow me to do so.

It was amazingly easy to craft an inspiring quest of a cleric now wanting revenge on a variety of former suitors from her time as a noble. Easy to invent up bits of dialogue for her (based on the tremendous amount of soft storytelling already present). Other companions 'interacted' with her based on their own traits, such as hers and Gale's mutual love for Mystra and the Weave.

It was even easy to make her her own companion tent!

-- What a bookworm! --

A bit too easy. As after hours of me interjecting with 'Hestia disapproves!' at various choice selections, the host finally decided to listen to me for once. To our extreme regret.

At around 20 hours, we had found Rugan, the Zhentarim you can 'accidentally' choose to get into trouble. Seeing as it was our own faults, Hestia wished to help him. She cut his binds herself. Unfortunately, she decided to do this in front of his enemies.

Our party might have ended in all of our deaths, that save, but it was unforgettable.

BG3 has done what few RPGs have been able to accomplish: allow players the ability to write their own stories.

I didn't feel like a player, I felt like a true working component of the game. Often times, when talking about player experience, you'll hear the words 'it felt real'. Hestia was real. The freedom and ability of me to choose details as small as the colour of her armour (gold and blue, as befitting a cleric), to selecting the little bits and bobs she'd put around her camp; all of it felt like a true release of control. A gift from the developers to myself, and every other player.

It's so damn hard to create a game these days. Everything is predetermined, hard-baked into lines upon lines of code. Yet, developers are expected to create a system that allows players to move around freely. A contradictory task.

What Larian has done, is expand upon the traditional 'box' forumula that you must place players in. They've taken the power of narrative, and put it completely into the hands of the player to design the flow of the story for. You can choose where to go, you can choose who lives and dies, you choose the state of your world.

Perhaps, that's why I'll remember BG3 till my end days.

It wasn't a pre-written story that brought me to tears because of its Oscar-winning quality, but one that we gripped the reins of hard and steered ourselves towards outcomes that only we have ourselves to blame for. It's engaged me like no other game has, except perhaps since the early days of modding Skyrim to curate our perfect and unique experiences based on over 200 mods.

So, what now?

Now, we can only hope that other companies expand upon this. Dragon Age: Dreadwolf, from the long Dragon Age RPG lineage, is slated to be released in the next few years. It, amongst many other games, will need to hold themselves up to this higher standard. One that, unlike other RPG titles released in the last three years, did not rely on DLCs or large patches in order to appeal to players.

The power of player narrative, its potential, and the manner of which game developers can go about utilising it, has now been put into full view. Now, more than ever, companies must reconsider the amount of priority they want to put onto marketing their games, verus actually making them. With the current player numbers and profits made from BG3, perhaps, they will finally be convinced.

[drhu0806]

9 - "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Fandom: Baldur’s Gate 3 (fanfiction) Characters: Astarion, Tav/custom player character Rating: T Warnings: depictions of violence, strong language, ophidophobia

When Astarion bursts into the chamber, Kainé is barely holding herself up on her elbows on the ground. A small yet steady trickle of blood drips from her head, down her chin onto the ground.

Any other day, the sight of her blood would have made him unashamedly salivate, but seeing it spilled here, gluttony is the farthest thing from his mind. It’s wrath instead that floods from his heart and fills his veins, its flames licking at the edges of his vision.

Startled, one of her assailants jumps into action at his sudden entrance, wrenching her up from the ground and wrapping her in a chokehold as they press a blade to her neck. The sight drives Astarion’s murderous intent through the roof, and it takes every last drop of self control he has to keep himself from charging in and plunging his own knife into them.

“Stay back,” they gasp. Kainé chokes as they flex and squeeze as a desperate threat, her bloody hands weakly gripping their arm. Though she’s injured, upon closer inspection he can tell the attackers aren’t much better off: most of them sport large, grisly gashes, and Astarion can smell the faint stench of burnt flesh coming off of them. They’re as ragged as their hostage, something he would take pleasure in if he wasn’t so blindingly furious.

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he snarls.

They don’t listen, because of course they don’t. “Fuck off! This is the end of the line for you! Let us go, and maybe we won’t cut up your friend here.”

As if she hasn’t sliced you all up plenty already.

Their threats are as flimsy as their tattered armor, but he doesn’t dare make any sudden moves as he carefully advances on them. The one holding Kainé stumbles back as their compatriots take defensive stances, but they tread with as much ferocity as a deer stumbling on broken legs. Astarion’s own body lowers instinctively, the thrill of the hunt slowly threading through him as a supportive undercurrent to the rage.

From afar, he catches Kainé’s eye. There’s no fear there, simply a determined, steady calm. A thousand silent words pass between them in that moment, and as Astarion sees the change in her eyes, he knows what to do.

His fury hasn’t abated, but he’s able to rein it in, just enough to see a bit more clearly. One hand slides behind him to grip the hilt of his dagger, and he continues his way forward.

That doesn’t mean he’s willing to be nice, however.

“If you get out of this alive, you’d better hope you can run faster than you ever have in your insignificant, worthless lives,” he growls. “I find one more cut on her, and I’ll rip your limp, shite-filled intestines right out of your arsehole and string you up by your necks with them.”

He smiles, a mirthless, deadly thing that showcases his fangs, front and center. A shudder runs through the assailants, unable to take their eyes off of him in spite of their terror. Kainé’s captor grips her harder, pressing the dagger closer into her skin in spite of his warnings, yet she remains as serene as ever.

Then, as they’re within reach of the exit, her eyes flash. Her captors, so enraptured by Astarion’s performance, never noticed her pupils, sliced thin and elongated vertically. Her draconic scales grow and spread across the expanse of her skin as she rapidly wildshapes, taking the form of a slender, sleek cobra that easily slides out of the grip of her captor. At the sudden appearance of a snake, they throw their arms up and scream, and in one fluid motion he strikes. A single dagger whistles through the air and into their open mouth, piercing through the back of their throat. Their scream dies with a gurgle as they collapse, and chaos breaks out.

Like a well oiled machine, Astarion and Kainé dispatch the rest. She slithers and weaves around their assailants-turned-victims’ limbs, sinking her venomous fangs into their flesh. As they freeze in pain, he shoots, straight and true, felling each with a single clean shot. Within a few minutes, their bodies lay lifeless on the ground.

He lets out a long, exacerbated breath as he sheathes his weapon, hoping his anger will leave him the same way. In a flurry of petals, Kainé returns to her original form, wiping away the blood from her face with a wince.

“I hope you’re satisfied,” Astarion grumbles. “That’ll teach you to try and take on so many of them at once by yourself.”

He doesn’t admit it, but they’re both well aware that underneath the raging fire of his soul, it was simply trying to blanket his worry. She gives him a tired yet grateful smile, wrapping him in a hug.

“I have you, so I wasn’t too worried.”

[crowcaws]

My take: One of the things I would have liked for them to add/change would be Ulder's point of view, and more fleshing out of who Wyll was as a teenager, to make Ulder more justified in jumping to an extreme like banishment.

Let's think about Ulder's perspective: He goes to Elturel to deal with a crisis. He comes back. His son, with absolutely no explanation ready and no evidence that anything has gone amiss, has signed his soul to a devil. Devils, we remember, he has a personal history with because I understand he's actually a character in Descent into Avernus in D&D proper. This is not very clearly communicated in Baldur's Gate 3, so from a player's perspective, it just seems like Ulder casts Wyll out a little harshly, because we don't have context for his personal history with devils.

As for fleshing out who Wyll was as a teenager, consider what he tells us in Baldur's Gate of his time there (so up to the age of 16, which I think is important context):

- He snuck out to the Blushing Mermaid, a seedy sailor's tavern on the docks, and had his first kiss there

- He knows Nine-Fingers' bar well, and remarks on how often people would get glassed there

- Also mentions the Elfsong Tavern in a way that heavily implies he frequented it and feels nostalgic about it

- He stole his dad's smut novels and read them so much he's able to recite prose from them

He also notably makes a comment to Astarion about how he talks like an old person, and when he imagines what Reithwin would have been like in life, he talks about the commoner aspect of street merchants and children playing, instead of idolizing the high society aspect he would probably have experience with as a Duke's son.

We can read between the lines and assume that Wyll was something of a frivolous, indulgent rich boy youth who prefered to get in with the common folk of Baldur's Gate, got up to no good quite often, and doesn't really put much stock in respecting his elders.

The problem is they imply that Ulder encouraged all this. Specifically in this interaction:

And also in a lines with Lae'Zel in Wyrm's Crossing about Ulder being fine with sending a very young Wyll on message errands to a literal brothel.

I think if they had actually leaned into Wyll being a rebellious youth with less of a grasp on responsibility because he'd never faced hardship, and a father who disapproved and wanted him to grow up into the next Duke, it would have been more compelling and would have justified Ulder's anger a bit more.

Returning to Wyll's pact, let's change the narrative and say that Ulder does feel that young Wyll doesn't take things seriously enough and is too wayward/makes stupid choices that get him in trouble and Ulder needs to bail him out constantly. He comes back and for no good reason supplied, Wyll has made a pact with Mizora, a devil. If we have that context of Wyll being historically impulsive, Ulder is a lot more justified in thinking the worst of his son.

As it stands, you'd think Ulder would have maybe known at least a bit about devil contracts from his time in Elturel, and thought to give a second thought as to why his perfect son had suddenly signed one for seemingly no reason.

This kind of rewrite is definitely on my patch wishlist but I have realistic expectations of whether we will actually get that.

Wyll's not boring he just got shafted outta a really good man vs self storyline after killing Karlach where he could've lost his humanity after choosing to believe in a lie or fought a path to redeem himself by his own standards. Wyll has nothing to prove to anyone but himself and the idea of him losing faith in himself because of a passing act of human folly would've been so good but instead we got- "I defied a demon and did the right thing but I'm gonna be upset because I no longer look the the part of the hero but ope that's only one cutscene daddy issues instead" LIKE WYLL you're literally the most stable, sane and sexy person here I need you to grow or regress with the story your too perfect for my gremlin ass Tav. (He's so painfully out of everyones league it hurts like it's actually a problem that he's the only functional adult, like it's a stereotype he's the token support and he deserves a bit more than that )

Hello to you too anon 🤣 I pretty much agree with you, Wyll does have the weakest storyline when you put him next to all the other main six. Someone was going to have to wear that crown.

However I maintain that he's still a funny dude with a lot more pinache than people give him credit for -- and I think there's still a fair bit to his story that gets overlooked or dismissed by the fandom in general, based on what they wished/hoped it would be, instead of appreciating what it actually was.

Wyll's arc is the opposite to most of the other cast like Gale, Astarion, Shadowheart. All of them are faced with changing themselves and growing into different people throughout the story. Wyll's influence is the opposite: He has to fight to maintain who he is, when a very real force of evil is manipulating him into doing things that are unthinkable to him morally. If he kills Karlach, he loses himself. If he doesn't re-sign the contract, he loses his father, and Mizora makes it clear the blame will be on him, and he loses his reputation -- which he relies upon in order for the people of the Sword Coast to recognise and accept his help when he offers it. He could lose his father all over again. Constantly he's pushed into positions where he has to hold the weight of the world on his shoulders, and must maintain his integrity through it without angering Mizora, who will kill him if he steps too far out of line.

All his life he's had to make the tough choices and shoulder the consequences alone and unsung. He saved Baldur's Gate at sixteen years of age and was never allowed to tell anyone, and has been burdened with the devil because of it ever since. He lost his home. And the first thing he tells Tav is that he doesn't regret that for a second. He is the kind of person to take a bullet, and Mizora keeps trying to force him to be the one to pull the trigger.

I, personally, think that's interesting enough and a change of pace from the other three or four character arcs that are more of the "do you want to be nice and friendly, or an ambitious/aggressive/murderous wank?" variety. And to Wyll's credit, his personal quest has a way more to do with the overall plot of the game than Gale's and Astarion's do. (For the record I am absolutely a Gale and Astarion girlie so no hate)

Again, Wyll's still the weakest of the six, but one of them had to be. There are things I love about all of the main character arcs, and things I would change. And Wyll's still leagues ahead of Halsin, whose personal quest feels tacked on to a plot that seemed like it would have happened anyway without his input. I still hope that one day we get some bridging dialogue or updates in future patches that make Wyll's arc a little bit more impactful and cohesive. I would also love if they added a bit more banter/more scenes with Karlach and Wyll becoming friends and bonding.

[mybg3notebook]

Astarion Analysis Summary

Disclaimer Game Version: All these analyses were made up to the game version v4.1.101.4425. As long as new content is added, and as long as I have free time for that, I will try to keep updating this information.

This will be a summarasing analysis integrating most of the main characteristics shown and proven in the post (Astarion Analysis)

Additional disclaimers about meta-knowledge and interpretations in (post)

The number between brackets [] represents the topic-block related to (this post), which gathers as much evidence as I could get.

Alignments are usually a topic of discussion since characters can be so complicated, that they are hard to put in some place on the spectrum. However, for Astarion’s case, it’s clear that he is an Evil-aligned character, like Shadowheart and Lae’Zel. Whether he lies on a Chaotic side or a Neutral one is a bit less important (personally, I believe this small shift is the most you will be able to change Astarion through the main game, but I will explain that in another post Astarion and Power -Part 2). 

What is most important is to understand that we are analysing an Evil char, so his personality will lay in the negative characteristics. He likes all degrees of cruelty [3,6], violence [2, 13], and murder [2], having a particular taste for animal cruelty [4]. He finds this cruelty funny.

When it comes to animal cruelty, he has a broader concept of what’s animal than most Tavs would consider: he includes kobolds, goblins, and gnomes as such [5]. So all the cruelty upon them would be labelled, for his standards, as “animal” cruelty. This is why I specify he has a particular taste for this type of cruelty: he doesn’t only enjoy the death and torment of animals, but also of races he considers as such [5].

He has many racial biases [5] (hardly any char in Forgotten Realm lacks them): he only sees valuable elves and some humans (not all, since he despises the Gur) probably as a consequence of his backstory. Let’s remember that a group of Gur put him at death's door, forcing him into accepting Cazador's proposition. However, it’s also important to keep in mind he put himself in that situation with his corrupted magistrate role as a mortal (Swen’s interview).

He supports the most common biases about Tieflings and Gurs [5], and mocks halfling and Dwarven Tavs. He sees goblins, kobolds and gnomes as animals. Probably the list is broader, since all this information is what's present in the EA game at the moment.

Astarion as a character has a play of concepts with the duality animal/owner [14]. He speaks about choice as the element that separates animals from humanoids. Animals react out of instinct, thinking creatures choose to act. This speech doesn’t end with him claiming choice but being an animal desiring to kill. If in any other instance he would show a hint of empathy, one would be inclined to think his character is about the overwhelming reactions of a wounded animal installed by the abuse. But I hardly see it like that. He was twisted before turning into a vampire.

As such, he speaks about “survival instinct” [14]. With the little we see and can read in his approvals and disapprovals, he is looking for acceptance from Tav about his vampire nature, for the sake of survival. This character is an extreme survivalist. Astarion would care nothing about endangering or even killing innocent people to guarantee his survival. Once more, we see in the way he speaks about survival, the constant repetition of the symbol of “animal”. 

He is greedy [1], no matter if what he gains is little or not; as long as it gives him a small reward (he hates to help for free), or if it causes pain, torment, or the death of the person he is interacting with, it’s enough. If Astarion doesn’t have a radical change in his background, we can be assured this greed comes from his past mortal life, when he was a corrupt magister to the point to double sell criminals to a local vampire lord and to slavers. 

Manipulation [7]is the main characteristic in him. His words and mannerisms change as the game progresses, playing with the tones and the half-truth/lies he keeps saying. During his first interactions with Tav, Astarion is very careful in sharing his opinion about the events, —his judgements are always vague—while he tries to appraise Tav. This can be easily seen when he has no opinion about Kagha’s snake killing Arabella and playing an obvious mind game to Tav. For further detail check (Astarion and his Standards).

He is sometimes considered a prankster [3], but I prefer to call him Evil Trickster (pretty much like Shadowheart, who has trickster domain as cleric) who enjoys pranks to a higher degree of torment, ending sometimes with the death of the person in question. He enjoys, following this Trickster nature, the humiliation of people in general and outsmarting small people in particular [6]. He is aware that outsmarting powerful ones can bring consequences hard to deal with [7] (as he warns when Tav thinks about outsmarting Raphael), but applying all these torments to weak people is inconsequential, and therefore, enjoyable for him without risks.

We already stated that he enjoys the suffering of people [2,3], but he has a particular taste for the torment of the weakest ones [6]. The root of this pleasure for humiliating weak creatures comes from his desire for power. Astarion is a char deeply related to power [11], not as a goal itself (not power for the sake of power), but as a means to obtain revenge, and in the process, become a Master. I will analyse this aspect in another post  (Astarion and Power part 1/ part 2). 

However, I think it’s worth noting that Astarion’s descriptions of Cazador reflect not only his need for power but also his desire for that kind of power applied in a similar goal. Astarion despises Cazador’s obsession for power, but he has little problem to aspire to it. The obsession with any kind of power, especially the one given by the tadpoles which bend the will of people (mind control) [11], his paranoia, his constant desire to become master [14], his pleasure in cruelty and humiliation [2,3,4,6]… all these characteristics are very descriptive of Astarion too. Cazador and Astarion seem to be each other’s mirrors ( for more details check post  Astarion and Power part 1/ part 2). .

Despite hating to be involved in anyone else's problems [9], he encourages and supports most acts of revenge [8,16], especially the ones against figures that can be interpreted as master. This will occur if and only if Astarion perceives the victim of such a master as a strong and resilient creature worth the trouble, i.e. Karlach [16]. 

He enjoys most Intimidation options you can pick [13], since they can result in the humiliation of a certain NPC, as a demonstration of power, or simply as elements for tormenting NPCs that would lead to murderous situations which are “funny” shows for Astarion. In general, most intimidation tags will be approved by him, except the ones that could be used to defuse violent outcomes.

All these evil pleasures can be considered as “the result” of turning into a vampire, but if we stick to what Swen has explained during the first demonstrations of the game and interviews before the release of EA, we know Astarion has been an Evil character during his mortal life. He was a corrupt magistrate in Baldur’s Gate, who fed the local coven of vampires with criminals. Being greedy, and trying to bite more than he knew he could chew, he sold this food into slavery to earn more money. As a consequence (directly or plotted by Cazador, we don’t know) he was attacked by a group of Gurs who almost beat him to death. Cazador appeared soon afterwards to grant him immortality with the curse of Vampirism. As we can see, he is not better than he was when he was a mortal elf.

A deeper relationship with concepts such as power, abuse, and victim will be explained in another post ( Astarion and Power-part 2). From Astarion’s brief background we can see that he has been an abuser in his mortal life. Due to his own actions, Cazador grasped him into his power and inflicted torment, humiliation, and violence of many kinds, for two centuries, twisting his personality into evilness even more than before (we also need to remember that not only torture may have twisted his personality, vampirism via Dark Desires causes a natural perversion of the persona as well). He now aspires to become more powerful, a reflection of Cazador himself, as a way to acquire his freedom. He wants power to be free [7, 11, 13, 14], and the power of mind-controlling others excites him [10,11] to no end, ignoring completely the cognitive dissonance of his own mind as an ex slave [12]. Although he suffered slavery in his own flesh, he is pretty apathetic (or even supports) slavery [10]. Some players may understand his narration of Cazador’s torments as a means to manipulate Tav, others, as a self-dismissal of his own traumatic experiences. 

His story seems to narrate the story of an abuser who found a greater abuser and became a victim of the latter, seeking to return to a stronger power position (the greatest vampire of the world—description in Larian web page—). Despite suffering this abuse, that could be understood as poetic justice to certain degree, he never developed empathy for those sharing his condition. He cares little when he sees others in the same situations he had been ( for more details check post (Astarion and Power part 1/ part 2). 

Some fans see that Astarion detests slavery, and he is just putting a show of a thick-skinned survivor, pretending that it does not affect him. I can’t see it with all what we see in EA. This “supposed” repulsive emotion should be a matter of narrative (we should see it in clear approvals or disapprovals as meta-knowledge), not a baseless imagination/wish of the player. We know that there are hundreds of resources to show hidden emotions in characters. Remorse or a desire to improve can be perfectly shown without being explicit, even when he may not be conscious of them. We can see how this is managed with Shadowheart, and we know there is something going on under her cruelty despite knowing little about herself (she knows less of her past and still yet we manage to see some degrees of goodness in her despite her evil inclinations). 

So I don’t believe that Astarion has some remorse going on, because if it were the case, it has not been shown in any scene so far. To me, it makes much more sense for him to develop as a full evil character inside the spectrum of evilness. After all, and following the tradition of the mechanics seen in BG1 and BG2, a redemption arc of an evil char of this magnitude makes little sense (We can remember Edwin,Dorn Il-Khan, Sarevok Anchev, Viconia DeVir, Baeloth Barrityl, Xzar, or Hexxat, all evil chars whose development was always inside their evilness or showed, in few cases, a slight shift of it). But further details and reflections will be addressed in another post (Astarion and Power part 1/ part 2). 

As a last detail, we can or cannot believe his statement of having lost his memories (he can perfectly claim it to hide his evil past from the main character to have a better manipulation of Tav) but considering Larian has kept most of the DnD vampire characteristics, I would like to bring awareness of a particular vampiric effect named Dark Desires (here). It’s the twistessness of the mortal-desires, which due to the fact that Astarion’s had always been dark, changed little with his vampiric nature, or just deepened in its perversion, and may cause sometimes the loss of memories (he was greedy and cruel before, now he stays the same, but darker and morbider.)

In short we can summarise Astarion as a moral bankrupt narcissist, a survivalist no matter the cost, a power-hungry character who wants to bend people’s will. He uses manipulation as his main tool, and enjoys violence, murder, and humiliation. Despite his slave past, he enoys acts of cruelty and torture on innocent or weak creatures. All his actions and words seem to ominously display a similarity with Cazador, as if his fate is to become the next Cazador.

This post was written on April 2021. → For more Astarion: Analysis Series Index

[dalish-spectre]

Trust the abyss - a Baldur's Gate 3 backstory Ch. 1

What a high price the half breed granddaughter of Clan Eishin’s matriarch would fetch at the massage parlour located at the fringe of the bazaar of the spider city.

The girl, whose name was of no consequence to the slaver hired by the owner of the establishment, was siting on the ground with chains around her wrists waiting to be inspected.

She looked mostly drow, the slaver thought, examining the slight curve of her otherwise straight nose.

The dark silver hair, the ash gray skin and orange eyes belayed surface elf lineage.

He gruffly titled her head up and wrested a thumb under her lip to inspect her teeth.

No rot. She was well-kept and had a wild intensity to her look the slaver knew would make her a hit with many of his master’s clientele.

She stared at him with an intensity that made him want to strike her. Though he wouldn’t be foolish enough to do it before the paperwork was finished.

“I trust you find my daughter sufficient.”

A door creaked open behind him, and he heard a rustle of fabric as the matriarch’s daughter strode in.

Zilvra Eishin was the daughter of the dangerous cartel’s matron Nityna Eishin but 30 years ago she had fallen out of favour with Lolth when the priestesses refused to sacrifice her first child stating that the spider queen rejected a half-drow sacrifice in favour of a full-drow sacrifice.

The foolish mistake to breed with a wood elf and produce a daughter was not enough for the spider queen as her sister sacrificed a pure-blood daughter in the name of Lolth.

And thus, Quarra ascended to priestess-hood while Zilvra was disgraced in the eyes of her mother.

“Sufficient. She will make up for what was lost the other day,” the slaver replied, moving away from the girl and cocking a hand on a hip. “How much?”

“1,000 coin plus gratuities every tenday,” said Zilvra, glancing down at the young elf. “Before you begin to negotiate, Master Nym has several other dealings with Eishin and the gratuities ensure his survival.”

The slaver had hoped the middle Eishin daughter wasn’t privy still to the clan workings.

“Fine. I am authorized to sign on Master Nym’s behalf.”

“How wonderful for you,’ she replied dryly. “I’ll meet you in the main room. I need a moment.”

The girl cringed as the door shut, leaving her alone with the woman who had birthed her.

“You will be killed if you disobey, and for you death will be no release as the Yolochl’s will torment you for eternity – no more communing with the memories of a past life,” Zilvra moved closer to her and ran her fingers through the dark silver hair.

“You will wish for Yolochls, Tavari, if you mess up this arrangement. Priestess Quarra has asked for you to be her personal attendant if things go wrong at the Jewel Box.”

“You will do your house proud, daughter,” she laughed, giving the strand of hair between her fingers a tug.

“Please don’t send me away, mother,” the girl, Tavari, said, standing up to face Zilvra.

“You know you’re not to call me that. You will go where you’re told – you have no use here other than to cause strife between me and Priestess Eishin – by working in the parlour you’ll be able to contribute to soon-to-be House Eishin.”

“I – I’m sorry, mistress,” said Tavari. “I just don’t wish to be –”

“To be, to be – to be what?” The older woman mocked her. “To be used up? Are you afraid of what the males will do to a pretty little half breed like you?”

The mirthful laugh filled the windowless room before her mother turned on her heel and left the room.

Tavari ground her tongue between her teeth until she tasted blood – trying not to cry as she leaned against the wall, watching the candlelight flicker.

Would that she had time to learn the wild magic – the druid magic her father had told her about.

She had only met her father three tendays ago. His name was Thondir and he was a druid captured from the surface decades ago. He had told her that she was his daughter and that they would escape to the surface together.

Her heart clenched as she wondered how she would ever see him again given that the Eishin grounds were in Duthcloim and she would a world away on the other side of the Bazaar.

She looked frantically around the room, seeing if there was any way of escape. But there was just the one door which opened, and the hooded slaver stepped towards her.

“Time to go, young one,” he said, stooping to pick up the chains that bound her wrists and tugged her towards him.

She jostled forward but planted her feet firmly.

“Come now, don’t make things difficult,” he pulled her forward again, but she shook her head back with as haughty an attitude she could muster.

Sighing, he reached into his pack and drew out a manacle with little barbs on the inside. He meant to fasten it around her neck and as he moved closer, Tavari readied herself.

When his hands came around to fasten the manacle from the front she bit down hard on his finger, grinding down on bone through flesh.

“You little bitch.”

The slaver moved to slap her, but she threw her weight into him, knocking him to the floor.

Writhing on top, hands still bound but pressing his chest, she tore at his ear with her teeth. The pain caused him to shout as blood dripped down her chin.

Her moment of triumph was cut short by a burning sensation hitting her like a wall and suddenly she was paralyzed.

She heard the tell-tale clicking sound of her mother’s heeled sandals.

The slaver groaned, bringing a hand to his torn ear as he pushed the prone form off his body.

“You didn’t tell me she was dangerous,” he whined, wilting under the drow woman’s gaze.

“Even a trapped kobold will lash out – you shouldn’t have been caught off guard,” Zilvra replied coldly, kicking the half-drow on the floor onto her back. “She looks young but she has passed the veil and no longer receives memories of past lives.”

She knelt down and looked into Tavari’s eyes which were darting back and forth.

“Since I can’t trust you to not make this mistake again I will do you one favour,” she said to the slaver.

She slipped a pill into Tavari’s mouth. Tavari felt it stick in her throat.

“Swallow child or die.”

“You know, Nym has his own means –“

Tavari swallowed the pill, hoping she would manage to choke.

“Quiet fool, I know exactly what Nym has, as Clan Eishin provides it to him at a fair rate. It is only Dreamsleep, she will be out for enough time to make it to the Jewel. Now begone.”

The voices became a blur as she felt blackness rush to meet her.

[magneticmage]

I'm in the mood for it (plus it's Disability Pride month) so here are all my disabled ocs;

Under cut for Length

Additional Notes; Please do not judge me too harshly. While I have a few of these disabilities (most notably PTSD, anxiety-depression, and visual impairments) myself and personally know people who have some others, every person and their experiences are unique. I try my best to give these disabilities the space and gravity they deserve in my writing, but it is difficult for ones that I have no personal experience with. In addition, I am still learning and only human. If I have done something wrong or phrased something badly at any point now or in the future, let me know and I will do my best to fix it/do better. Apologies for the abrupt disclaimer but there we go.

Anyways!!!!

On the the List!

RWBY;

Selene Argent=Has PTSD, one prosthetic eye, and some physical scars on face and torso. I'd safely say she counts.

Baldur's Gate;

Sable Shades=Is an albino and was rendered mute at birth. He sunburns extremely easily and is near-sighted. He also often communicates through sign language.

Roan Roarke=Beyond some minor PTSD symptoms (increased anxiety and stress levels) surrounding fires, he's perfectly fine.

Faenerys Elendir=Has PTSD from her time imprisoned particular involving whips and brands as torture implements.

Rune Mistsea=Post-lycanthropy encounter, he is notably more short-tempered around the full moon along with a distinct craving for meat and violence. Otherwise, nothing else of note.

Lucine Mistsea=Beyond a notable paranoia issue when it comes to demons and cambions (but not fellow tieflings), she's fine.

Lyr(e/a/an) Lovemoor=Autistic. Too much light and noise and surrounding activity is draining and makes them short-tempered with occasional blowouts/meltdowns. Has a Thing about certain textures (very much hates slimes and oozes and squishy things for this reason, likes silks and furs and leathers). Has a fascination for all things shiny and glittery (gems and currencies are a special interest). Also often fidgets with their daggers.

Saga Musehart=Was rendered blind due to torture at the hands of prison guards. She also lost a hand (initially) and a forearm (later due to infection) and wears a prosthesis.

Cei Gloomdraft=Autistic or at least neurodivergent of some kind. Might have some ADHD, it's not quite clear yet in the few pieces I've written so far to help develop her.

Mass Effect;

(Solo Shepard Canon)

Annette Shepard=Has some lingering PTSD symptoms from surviving a raid on Mindoir, then thresher maws in Akuze, and then being spaced at the beginning in Mass Effect 2. She also suffers from some survivor's guilt Post-Virmire due to losing Ashley, and then all of Mass Effect 3 puts such a huge burden on her that she's fighting off some severe depression and despair from all the losses. She's got an old war injury in her shoulder that acts up from time to time, occasionally making her biotics misfire a barrier. She's on immuno-suppressant drugs to prevent her body from rejecting her Cerberus-added cybernetic implants and upgrades, and also some antidepressants for depression and anxiety symptoms for said lingering PTSD symptoms. Girl's a walking disaster-fire mentally but she keeps on surviving and she still looks for the good in life as it comes, so there's that.

(Shepard Siblings)

Joanna=Like Roscoe and Riley, she's also on immuno-suppressants to prevent cybernetic implant rejection. Notably, she's the most well-adjusted of the three mentally, although the losses and struggles of ME 3 start to take their toll due to depression. She spends an awkward month on the Normandy adjusting to the new medication while adjusting the amounts needed. In addition, she also goes through a whole existential crisis come the Citadel DLC about if she is really Joanna Shepard or a clone (which Riley, Roscoe, and the Normandy crew snap her out of). Her survivor's guilt is much less pronounced than Riley's though she does start the early stages of a martyr complex (it's a source of frequent and well-humored debate between Riley and Roscoe if it was already there or not) about the of Thane's death. But she does her best and keeps on going.

Roscoe=Definitely mentally ill. He's got some trauma around abandonment that starts to get fully addressed around ME 2 in part due to Jack and Miranda and is mostly resolved around ME 3 though naturally scars remain. It often manifests as anger, depression, and even callousness. Like Joanna's and Riley, he is on immuno-suppressants to prevent the potential rejection of his cybernetics. He's also got an old wound from Torfan in his abdomen that acts up under stronger pressures like before a rainstorm or different gravity levels as well as drastic temperature changes such as cold (he HATES Noveria for that reason in particular though it isn't the only one, man). Beyond all that, he's very strong-willed and gives no fucks to shit.

Riley=Much like Annette except a bit more well-adjusted due to a larger support network and character drive. Has notable flashbacks/triggers around batarians, thresher maws (this one includes panic attacks once the direct danger has passed), and hardsuit complications (they always makes sure that their helmet and everything is in working and optimal order). Has survivor's guilt from their losses on Mindoir and Akuze but between meeting Talitha and Toombs in ME 1, they confront and deal with it, beginning to heal from it. Even on Virmire with the loss of Honora and all the failures of ME 3, they do better at handling it though it still remains to varying degrees. Like Joanna's and Roscoe (and Annette again), they're on immuno-suppressant drugs to prevent issues with their body rejecting the cybernetics, with the additional ones of antidepressants to help manage some of their anxiety-depression symptoms. They also have some degree of chronic pain (maybe some kind of cystic fibrosis?) due to past overuse of their biotics that damaged part of their nervous system and occasionally causes it to misfire for no reason, often causing intense pain. Rarely and only if the pain isn't treated with extensive biotics-free rest periods and numbing agents in the form of more pills, the biotics will manifest and they'll accidentally move shit around, including themself a few times. This is most notable in ME 3 due to the nature of the larger and longer combat sequences with shorter and shorter rest times between. Though they manage as best they can with the help of their crew and family, it is still a struggle and they notably stop joking about retiring when they're dead and seem to consider it more seriously around ME 3 but save the final decision for the end of the Reaper Wars.

(Shepard Family)

Honora Hartford=She had an eating disorder when she was younger that left some lingering issues with her health but overall she's fine up until her death.

Riley's deceased siblings were overall healthy though Payton had Down's Syndrome and Brooklyn had ADHD. Harley had moderate asthma and used an inhaler.

Clover has anemia quite often and takes iron pills daily

The rest of the Shepard cousins don't have any disabilities to much knowledge though I am still fleshing them out.

(Andromeda)

Sara and Scott Ryder have some lingering damage from their cryopod accident and the Kett leader fucking with them, but otherwise they are okay.

Asher has ADHD while Shiloh struggles with a mild form of chronic fatigue. Evander, Rebecca, and Lucas are all able-bodied.

Dragon Age;

(Fereldan Wardens)

Lynera Mahariel=Dunno if this counts, but am putting it here anyways since it affects her overall health. Occasionally suffers from a type of sleep paralysis that is mixed with night-terrors. It doesn't appear to have a rhyme or reason as to when it occurs beyond perhaps stress and it's only every few months. However, it often leaves her completely drained for at least a week afterwards. She also occasionally has insomnia post-terrors as well which she self-medicates with sleeping draughts. She also has crippling period pains that appear to be consistent with ovarian cysts on her left side (though she later has it removed by Catriona once it ruptures due to injury). She also suffers from bouts of depression during Origins but that could be due to the extenuating circumstances she was under at the time.

Isemaya Tabris=When overly stressed, being exposed to strong amounts of concentrated Taint in a short period of time, or sometimes simply for no apparent reason, she suffers from intense migraines that are often treated with herbal painkillers and lying still in a dark and quiet room. Also due to a past injury to her left eye by humans, she has a harder time seeing on that side but is not completely blind.

Catriona Surana=She seems to be autistic due to her ability and predilection to hyperfocus on various studies (often Blight and magic-related but other areas do occur) as well as her obliviousness to social cues (she didn't realize she was liked by her suitors until Cale outright told her and by then she had decided she liked them already). Notably, she adapts a bit better Post-Origins due to Alistair and Leliana's influences but it still happens.

Cale Amell=Had some minor amnesia surrounding the exact events leading to his magic manifestation but later learned it was because he had set his eldest brother Azul on fire and believed he killed him as Raven helpfully supplied (Azul had instead faked his death as Cale discovers around the time of Awakening).

Fion Cousland=Briefly suffers from a minor alcohol addiction but has treatment while he is still in the functional phase courtesy of Catriona. Since then, he heavily monitors his intake and even helps Oghren get treatment for his own. He also occasionally has painful muscle twinges due to an injury that stretches from his temple to his eye and ear down to his neck on the right side. This is most notable in bad weather or when he is sick.

Barran Aeducan=Suffered from a superiority-inferiority complex towards his siblings growing up though it has greatly lessened with time and experience. It is mostly gone by the time of Inquisition though prominent traces still remain.

Tatha Brosca=She is hard of hearing and has manged to cope by learning to lip-read (not always successful, however, especially with languages she is not familiar with) in Origins and a pair of hearing "horns" designed for her by an admiring Smith caste man by Awakening. She often jokes that now she has even more in common with her Bronto companion, Salroka, due to their shared horns.

(Origins)

Vireth Mahariel=Suffers from epilepsy and often treats it with various herbal remedies, though it is not completely effective and large amounts of intense stress on his body make it worse. He also begins to develop cataracts around the time of Act 2 of Dragon Age 2, though the cause is unknown (presumed genetics or simply age at the moment).

Elthorn Tabris=Has a stutter speech impediment.

Alaros Surana=Unknown at the moment as I haven't written too much about him.

The Amell Siblings=Probably doesn't count but Azul gets motion sickness, especially on boats. Raven, Carmine, and Reed are all perfectly healthy and fine, however the latter two are the ones I've written least at the moment. Marigold has asthma that she treats with herbs.

Aelynne Cousland=Nothing comes to mind. She does have some old injuries (mentally and physically) she acquired from the attack on Highever by Arl Howe that color her later interactions with the family during the Fereldan Civil War.

Valda Aeducan=Has a notable visual impairment that is corrected with glasses, albeit there is nothing to be done for her slight colorblindness (she has a hard type distinguishing between greys, greens, and blues).

(Orlesian Wardens)

Dion Caron=Suffers from sleep apnea that is eased by a special breathing herbal-incense infused mask he wears as well as whomever in his group is on watch to check on him periodically to ensure he still breathes (most often this is either Victoire-Ainsley or Garam). He also snores and coughs due to this. Loudly.

Victoire-Ainsley Caron=Nothing of note.

Isenna Andras=She's an albino and so burns and rashes in intense light and heat. She also has a lame leg that cannot be fixed with magic and so wears a reinforced brace to aid her walk. This creates a noticeable limp.

Garam Kader=Alcohol makes him sick and he suffered from intense gender dysphoria before paying a huge sum to have an ex-Tevinter magister turned fellow Warden help him transition.

(Hawkes)

Jasper, Skye, and Violet Hawke are perfectly healthy. Albeit with some diet restrictions due to various allergies.

Gray Hawke=He is diabetic and so often has to monitor his energy levels to ensure his health. It's part of the reason he doesn't actively endanger his life like his siblings (not that he won't, just less often in comparison). He acquires a truly impressive diet regime and treatment plan upon becoming a nobleman of the Amell family, allowing him much more freedom than before.

(Marquises)

Aurore and Marcel de Serault both suffer from mild hemophilia. Marcel also has a lyrium drug addiction he is trying to break (and is actually doing quite well via weaning himself off it) due to a brief stint as a Templar while serving the Chantry.

(Inquisitors)

Armashok Adaar=Poor eyesight that cannot be fully corrected by glasses and later loses an arm due to the Anchor. He also lost a few fingers and some right hand mobility due to pre-nquisition injuries as a mercenary. He also wears a brace on his left shoulder. He wears a prosthetic eye and replacement arm.

Ransley Trevelyan=Like Cullen, he is working on breaking his own lyrium addiction from his time as a Templar and, like the other Inquisitors, loses his arm due to the Anchor. He had it replaced with a prosthetic arm for his shield side.

Paeriel Lavellan=She loses an arm alongside all the other Inquisitors, but takes the loss much harsher due to her archery skills suffering. While she will wear a prosthesis in battle or when hunting, she doesn't wear it in her day-to-day life, instead preferring to make due as needed. She also has anxiety.

Naranka Cadash=She loses her Anchor-wielding arm and gains a crossbow-and-dagger prosthetic one courtesy of her Inner Circle, much to her delight. She also suffers from some damage to her reproductive tract due to past injuries and is uncertain if she could have children.

(Inner Circle)

Kara Adaar=Beyond an intense hatred of slavery due to being kidnapped and almost sold when she was younger before being rescued by her father, she's perfectly healthy. She does require bedrest for her periods though.

Emilyse Trevelyan=She suffers from some PTSD from her abuse at Templar hands in the Circle, though she begins to recover towards the end of Inquisition.

Samrel Lavellan=Has dyslexia and uses reading aids and memory devices.

Pyrmar Cadash=He might have some PTSD from his Carta days due to a notable cave-in that lasted for a few days before his rescue.