#apalestar. ﹙ astarion ﹚

[never-surrender]

@apalestar \\ cont

Halsin remained blissfully unaware of what was happening just a short distance from his studies, so engrossed with what he was reading that no sound could bother him. Typically people knew better than to interrupt him of his readings unless it was an emergency... though lately the exception to that rule was in the form of a single rogue vampire. A fact that others were beginning to take notice of as well.

So when Astarion entered into the area with the scent of blood clinging heavily to his form, Halsin found himself blinking up from the book ...

Only to have the book practically thrown to the ground as he surges to his feet, crossing the distance between then in three long strides. Fingers immediately take a gentle hold of Astarion's chin, tilting his head up and then first to one side, and then the other, hazel eyes intensely gauging for any injuries... though he couldn't discern Astarion's blood from the blood that saturated his collar.

"What happened, Astarion?" his voice was low and seemingly calm, releasing the gentle hold he had on Astarion's chin as he takes a step back. He can feel his heart thundering in his chest, hands opening and closing as if preparing for some sort of fight that had yet to come to his doorstep.

Little did he know that a fight was exactly what was about to come ... in the form of one red headed elf by the name of Kagha. With the body discovered and drained dry of the blood, she had begun her march down to where Halsin currently resided...

[deathswcrn]

starter for @apalestar

Breina was settling down to sleep when she felt it. At first, it was an almost imperceptible narrowing of focus. Then she began to feel nauseous. Then, Sceleritas Fel was stood at the bottom of her sleeping bag, hovering eerily over his dozing Lady. That sensation she'd felt - the sickness, the tunnelling - she now knew it, with some practice, as the first sign of The Dark Urge coming forth to play. Someone was going to die tonight.

Fel's voice was positively giddy outlining tonight's plan, and as the bottom of Breina's stomach fell out, she only really heard half of his proclamation. Astarion. No. No, no, no. "It's for your own good, Mistress," said Fel, noticing the colour drain from Breina's face. "This... pact of yours must be broken. There is no need for you to hold yourself to it. I believe this will help free you from these awful little chains you've wrapped yourself in and allow you to... hm, feel yourself again."

She forced herself to her feet, grabbing Sceleritas by the shoulder and tossing him aside, determined to ignore the wretched little imp. One step, then another, then another, she found herself crossing their campsite like a determined troll fording a river. Every footstep fought her, but Breina fought back harder, more determined than the Urge to control her own limbs, until she could let gravity do the work and fall to her knees beside the trancing vampire. Would he be able to wake up? She hoped so.

Voice coming as rough as gravel, she grabbed Astarion firmly by the shoulders and shook him. "Wake up, damn it. If you don't wake up, you're dead, do you hear me?"

[wolfsbarbarens-a]

xx. for @apalestar | dark urge/bloody secrets

Breina woke trembling. She always felt a particular way after battle, with flushed cheeks and ragged breath and the tang of blood in the air, and that's how she felt now - though the emotions were muted, like she was witnessing them through fog. She was elated - whatever she'd done, she liked it.

A dead bard. Hacked at with an axe, over and over, until her entire midsection was indistinguishable and mushy. The bard's blood was scrawled into the dirt in a broad sigil, a circle and cross with Alfira in the center, posed like she'd been artfully begging for death. Alfira was dead, and some disguisting, rotten part of Breina liked it.

She finally felt the first emotion since waking that was truly hers - her stomach twisted in horror, and she spat bile on the ground. It was not the death that bothered her, nor seeing the corpse - it was that another hole had been poked in her memory, and inside that hole was some creature that was not her, but that could do this to someone innocent and enjoy it.

Gods, what the fuck have I done, she thought first. Then, more practically, If the others wake and see her, I'm dead. Her legs finally moved when she commanded them to. She grabbed her axe, pulling it free from the corpse with a wet, gruesome sucking sound, and hurled it over the bank into the Chionthar, getting rid of the murder weapon. Then she returned to Alfira, to drag her to the woods and bury her.

Except, she returned to find Astarion standing over her corpse, and looking Breina's gore-streaked arms up and down with... fascination?

"I can explain-"

[iron-hearts-ablaze]

I've been at it again with my Trio photoshopping. Thanks to @galefcrce grabbing me the Gale-in-Avernus scene I was able to piece it all together. Editing the subtitle took up most of my time. Not 100% happy with them, some shadowing is sticking out to me but I didn't save the projects like an idiot so don't really want to start again. Whoops.

If only this ending existed....

[faerunscursed]

@apalestar Every since the cleric joined the camp and acknowledged his curse, Astarion has been weary of her. It's in his nature. But what he can not help was what he scented in her blood. Something foul. Tainted. It reminded him of something rotting. Similar to those ill-stricken or undead by his measure. For a while he said nothing on it. But the days pass and Isobel seemed to not do a damned thing about it.

And the smell was beginning to bother him. "You may wish to see to that injury of yours." He commented in passing.

As a cleric of Selune and the daughter of Melodia, Isobel prided herself in being a welcoming. To be accepting of everyone, regardless of their faith or even lack there of it. Outside of faith she also embraced the difference in personalities and race. This also extended who Astarion, whom despite being a vampire, seemed to be one of the good ones. She could trust that he would not hurt her, or the others and that was enough. His charming personality helped, too.

However she wasn’t sure the same courtesy would have been returned to her. Outside of Aylin, no one knew about it her affliction, her taint which had been apart of her since her resurrection. Luckily her sickeningly green veins were hidden well. No one would ever know. Though she found herself wondering if Astarion would notice. As a vampire could he smell the undead in her? She wasn’t sure one day until he said something to her.

Isobel had come back to camp with a minor wound, one in which she unfortunately couldn’t heal herself. She had done what she could to patch it up but healing was slow with her body being resistant to her moon maidens healing. “I can’t do that.” She finally admittedly quietly, carefully they only he heard her.

“What you’re smelling isn’t my wound. It’s me, little vampire.” Isobel said with a frown. The look she gave him practically begged for secrecy as she briefly revealed a part of the veins on her wrist before hiding it again. “You aren’t the only one cursed. Tell me what do you smell? Answer honestly, little vampire.”

[ruinedbycatastrophe]

📜 ( for Gale )

incorrect quotes // accepting // @apalestar

[elkenbulwark]

// which bro wore it better? comment below - 👇 Bonus stretching side by side for comparison:

[shadovan]

@apalestar

Considering the time alone that he spent lurking the wares of shops such as Sorcerous Sundries and the like, Tareque's presence throughout Heapside wasn't enough of an oddity for anyone of concern to take enough interest in. Not to mention, the number of times he frequented the gate when visiting Cazador's abode. That was not what had lead him there on that particular day, though. Not directly, at least.

He had killed him!

Literally. For something so petty.

Death may not have been a permanent thing for a lich, so to speak, but it was the principle of the matter. With each time he perished, he lost a few more of his memories, a touch more of that sound state of mind that kept him grounded, something important, whatever it ended up being. Sometimes a combination of all three.

On top of that, it was painful. But, that was irrelevant. The bottom line was, Cazador had taken something from him, so Tareque was destined to do the same in return. If that particular "thing" happened to be a spawn who he was growing very weary of seeing tormented, then even better.

He took time with it, memorizing the schedules, noting the days Astarion ventured outwards. He followed him once. Then a second time, a bit further. And a third. Never long enough to be overly conspicuous.

It was the fourth time when he finally acted, first approaching the waitstaff inside The Blushing Mermaid. He charmed them with coin and smiles laden with compliments; the lich knew all the right cards to play to gain his entry in favored ways by that point. It didn't take long before he had one of them grinning, laughing at whatever lewdity he was prattling.

The familiar flash of pale hair caught his eye and Tareque stilled suddenly. -- Ah, there he was. "Pardon me, poppit," he whispered to the girl, excusing himself.

He drew his pipe from his robe, packing it full of a dried lavender and honeysuckle blend, lighting it while he casually approached Astarion. He paused next to the vampire, quietly clearing his throat. "Right on time, Arita. Having a good night? Not that it particularly matters, I suppose."

[undyingmedium]

~ cont. from here @apalestar

Taken aback by the aggressivity of the former teammate, Anika's eyes immediately turned ice cold. She held her breath back on purpose as he lifted her from the ground with such ease, unwilling to entertain him any further than he was already daring to. Her free hand found his wrist, which she held with all of her strength; repressed instincts were resurfacing all of a sudden, and for a moment she almost suspected the vampire could sense them crawling under her skin, threatening to rip it and lash out.

The next thing she knew, she was on the floor, quietly gasping for air. When she raised her gaze, creatures were surrounding her. She observed each and every one of them baring their teeth, still without a movement; then, with a silent chuckle to herself, she stood up, with her magical jewels shining and the weapons out. Fine. The world wants my worst.

...

She laid on the floor, covered in slash marks, bites, blood. Ragged breaths made everyone aware that, despite everything, she was still holding on. A simple mage held little possibility to survive close encounters like that one alone, but she wasn't just anyone, fine with going without a fight; and her ghouls did a marvelous job at buying her enough time, give her enough space, while the wolves acted just as usefully under new command. She was still alive, even if barely, but that was more than enough. And while she pushed her upper body up, her fingers tightened around the handle of her dagger. When she glanced at it, her eyes glowed with the same green of the blade, and it readily reflected the glint back, enriching it with the depths of such a beautiful red...

Maybe the last lychantrope believed she was losing herself in those last moments of calmness before the inevitable, but oh, he was so wrong. The warlock suddenly turned with the knife up, her beloved Stillmaker, so that the enemy could throw himself right at it with his pounce. She stared at it arching above her, spilling blood all over, the poison doing its horrible work. A sharp laugh broke the silence, then another of her raining blasts opened the wound in his abdomen more and sent him flying away one last time.

Stumbling, she got back on her feet, surrounded by the chaos and rising as its source - embracing it. With that same mad grin, she addressed Astarion on the throne, the head tilted and her curls falling messily around her visage, but not enough to mask the murderous shine in her irises.

"Silly me. To think I was willing to give up my potential in the name of those who fought by my side. To think that I considered you, out of everyone, among the ones who could use a stronger shoulder to rely on." She opened her shaking arms in a theatrical guise.

"Have your last chance at calling me an idiot without consequences, ascended. Dominating the world is a hard road ahead. You just made yourself one more enemy."

[ferinehuntress]

◈　 ⇢  @apalestar　 ⋯　 random ask 　　⸻　Astarion swiped the latest volume of the Drizzt Do'Urden from a merchant. He was propped against his pillows outside his tent, reading away. "Are you just here to stare, darling? Or is there something you want?"

It had been a content evening, the moon shimmering down against the water's edge, as she climbed out of the lake. It didn't take long to dry off with an internal heater of her own. Her hair was washed and dried quickly, a little bit of steam billowing as her hair was dried. It hung down to the middle of her back, with no braids or anything to confine it for now. It had been a good day, or so far at least. A hearty meal made by Wyll, Scratch bouncing around happily, and Karlach was ready to settle down in her tent for some well-deserved rest.

Her fingers pulled on a simple black tunic, and her pants, as she fiddled with her hair, braiding it a little bit when she nearly came to a stop. Was that.... did she just see...

Her bare feet took one step back, then another, and tilted her head.  Golden eyes flashed over the title quickly. "The Grand Adventures of Drizzt Do'Urden". Karlach nearly squealed as her eyes were wide, and her pupils would be as large as moons if they could expand. She had the curiosity of a feline as it was hard not to try and peak over Astarion's shoulder when he spoke up. "Well, you have um... the Grand Adventures of Drizzt Do'Urden!!! And I haven't read that book in ages!" Karlach tried to contain herself but her fangs flashed into a brilliant wide smile as her tail swished around from her giddy excitement.

"Do you think...maybe... later on, I could... borrow it? Just for a little bit, I miss reading these books. Is this the one where he was on a quest against a Pirate King? Or was it the fight against Thay and the Netherese? Or.. oh maybe, when he first met Guenhwyvar!? Oh, you have to tell me which adventure this book is about!" Karlach's engine rumbled, as she had the biggest smile on her lips since the day she joined the crew. Despite her barbarian nature, she wasn't a brainless fool either. She knew how to read and loved to do so as a child even into adulthood, and always enjoyed reading about heroes and adventurers alike.

[never-surrender]

@apalestar cont

Little did anybody know the hell that was about to be unleashed. Halsin had been growing quite fond of the vampire, despite the antics and theatrics that he was prone to... or perhaps that was exactly why Halsin was fond of him. There were some that certainly weren't too thrilled that he was here, of course, namely a certain red head that was at the center of what was soon to be an entire mess.

In his quarters with an injured feline under his care is where Astarion would find Halsin, eyes aglow with the effects of his magic, a golden glow coming from his palm as small flecks float about, dissipating when they got too far from the glow. Not one to be interrupted, Halsin keeps his attention on the cat until he hears the sheer panic in Astarion's voice...

Immediately stopping to give Astarion his full attention, Halsin bore a deep frown of concern. "Your ring? Astarion, what-" he stops as the vampire continues on as he does, suddenly alarmed by the sheer strength of Astarion's reaction. If he wasn't mistaken it was almost as if the man was going to start crying... or perhaps he was reading too much into it. Regardless, Halsin reaches forward, placin his hands upon Astarion's shoulders.

"I'm not going to let you go back... you hear me?" he began, "But I'm not going to cage you either... we will find this ring together, you and I. First lets go back to your quarters.. perhaps it fell off your finger... if not that, then I will gather every single person in this grove and search them until we have found what we are looking for." he was woeful to think that some of his own druids were the cause of such a thing. Surely they hadn't stolen it... right?

[deathswcrn]

“He kissed the outside of her hand and flashed her a smile that would have even the most devout cleric dropping their wet panties. Too bad for her he had drained his pipes but a hour before. But she would have his thick man meat in her mouth. Suck the soul from him.”

"You know what, Astarion? I'm gonna ask Gale to help me become a wizard. Then I can study extra hard, for years or decades if I have to, and maybe get enough knowledge and skill to cast wish. And then, I'll pour all that time and effort and pure spite into making it so you literally cannot fuckin' read. I am gonna wish that you were completely fucking illiterate."

[alittlebitofmuse]

( to Astarion from @ratkingszarr )

"You are late with my dinner, boy."

Astarion's eyes left those of the sweet boy in front of him. He hadn't heard Him enter, damn Him -- but what could he have done? This was his life now. His role was to prey on the weak, stalk the sweet, helpless things that roamed the roads and taverns too late at night, and bring them back here. Back to Him.

And gods forbid he fail--

A low, courtly bow, followed by, " My apologies-- " The briefest of hesitations, " --Master. "

The pale elf rose again, crimson eyes sparing a glance at the poor, confused soul next to him. Sebastian had been sweet -- even sweeter than most. Gentle, tender... He said he had never been kissed. All that sweetness was lost now to confusion, fear, betrayal...

And what would Astarion say to him if he could? He had intentionally deceived the boy knowing this would be the conclusion of their little story. Astarion had whispered sweet nothings to him, showered him in affections and empty promises. Maybe he had taken extra time with this one... Maybe he had found surprising comfort in the others arms. Maybe he had lost track of time because he selfishly enjoyed it.

Astarion could say nothing.

He looked back to Him, to his Master.

" ...I hope you will find it satisfactory. "

[marionmaverick]

"I did what I had to. Just to survive."

"I know Astarion, I believe you," He said.

He continued brushing dust out of his tail, not quite making eye contact. More because the Gur's attitude had pissed him off. He had seen so much worse without mind control being involved. Had seen plenty forgive their tempered families for worse too.

"Look," He sighed. "I don't talk about my past, but trust me when I say I've done the same shit. You won't get any judgement from me"

[avernusfuries]

I’m all pointy ears, sweet cheeks. ( redneckstarion )

What is happening. "Uh, you feelin' alright there Fangs? Come down a little..." Leans in. "Yellowbellied?"

[bruinescence]

@apalestar cont.

He supposed apologies were still in order, for it was his own directions that saw Nettie should treat the illithid infested as she had in his absence. After the last lad had transformed and nearly made a meal of the dwarf, Halsin was not one to let the sap leak through a hardened heart when it came to protecting those closest to him within the grove's confines. He owed them that much, after all when he failed to bring all of them home some hundred or so years ago. Still, the grove's defender had yet to illicit his concern as far as owed compensation (though he guessed it was only a matter of time with how the other carried on-) so he settled for the next best thing- answering questions long into the night.

"Well, I'm sure it would be awful for you, chatter box that you are." The Archdruid mused, his eyes painted a shade of playful that soon dimmed as he considered the old rite he hadn't thought of in quite some time. To hear an outsider even give pause on its behalf stirred up parts of the past he'd rather keep there, all things considered. A slow shake of his head signaled his final judgement on the practice. "To tell you the truth, I-... found it rather relaxing."

The smile that followed seemed weary in a way, but he kept it trained on the fire until he felt it firm enough to send a side long glance at his company. "A far cry from the demands of an Archdruid. My predecessor would have considered it a vacation, I'm sure." With a shift, he shut his eyes as if prepared to ready himself for a bit of meditation while the others slept nearby. "...I'm curious-" He started, though waited until he'd shifted into his bones at a comfortable angle to continue. "...would you rather lose your voice for a year, or your body for three? Hypothetically, of course."