#beyond the fact that wyll's father is there- baldur's gate KNOWS who wyll is. the patriars know who wyll is. they know he was exiled.

[forcedhesitation]

crazy how he just ignores everyone else and speaks directly to wyll. it's like wyll is like one of the most important characters in this game, or something.

[limpfisted]

this is not a vagueblog at any wyll warriors, as i know the subject of parental abuse is very heavy, and i believe everyone has the right to their own opinions and experiences with fiction, BUT. in my opinion, for me, personally.

its ok to scold ur kid. in fact, scolding ur kid and teaching them right from wrong can be important. this is medieval times, baldurs gate is a dangerous place. even tho ulder was a busy man—and single fathers? are still allowed to have jobs and hobbies and their own goals? beyond simply taking care of their children 24/7? he still DID make time for wyll, and rheres a whole JOURNAL full of their memories together. its not just ine memory. theres pages and pages of it. they spent time together.

there are THOUSANDS of flaming fists. all under ulder’s control. theyre corrupt, a lot of them, are lawful evil, and a lot of them are dumbasses like the dude we saw harassing the sex worker in the carress. they odten switch sides to the guild, ulders sworn enemy, at the drop of a coin purse.

i, personally, as a father, would choose wyll. but thats not an easy choice. being a parent is hard. we’ll never know what ulder would have done if he had known the truth about mizora—but also, ulder fights valiantly in lturel when it is taken to the hells, and he stays behind to help the refugees. he was misled, he was tricked.

even if he wasnt, he has a responsibility to this city. he chose this, his whole life. hes not the perfect father, or the perfect man. there is no way to be a perfect father, or a perfect man. (u still shouldnt disown ur kid. but stories are ultimately about bad choices.)

but he loved wylls sense of adventure and fantasy, and he encouraged it. baldurs gate is a dangerous place where u can literally get stabbed all the time and upper city nobles can only really be in the lower city with guards like karlach. but wyll has happy memories, of being a rambunctious child, where he was safe, and close with his father, and loved.

wylls sense of whimsy literally comes from ulder! never forget the monster mermaid sex book was ulders! never forget that ulder fell in love with the woman with the wishing tree, he believed in balduran, and baldurs gate, and the heart of the gate

wyll and ulder’s story is bittersweet. love is hard. family is hard. if it was easy, if everyone was perfect, we’d all be robots.

wyll doesnt HAVE to forgive his father. but he loves him. there will always be great expectations from his father, there will always be distance. they are not connected at the soul or the hip.

but their love for each other matters, and they are so willing to try.

theyre a precious family, and tbh!!! really good representation?, a young Black queer dude and his dad, who loves him and supports him, and he is told he is allowed to marry whoever he wants and be whoever he wants to be with ulder’s blessing. (theyre torn apart by abuse, he experiences teen homelessness, but thats bc of his abuser isolating him. n he doesnt have to forgive his father for that. being disowned is also a real representation experience, and its one that can map on to queer/Black/disabled teen experiences, and i would never like, go. You Must Forgive Ulder And Think He’s The Best. but its really not ulder’s fault,p this happened, he really thought wyll sold out this city, he didnt know.)

like. they love each other, they get to have some of the best and most poetic, well-written dialogue in the game, it matters that they love each other, it matters that ulder had to work so hard to be grand duke and still had to make so many sacrifices

ulder is a good character in murder in baldur’s gate, but he is given so much heart, so much intimate joy and love in baldur’s gate 3. like compare any codex entry in the game to his journal entry about wyll. compare wyll’s voice when he says, “my father always said” to anyone talking about their abusers.

wyll was allowed to be a child! he was also respected as someone capable of having responsibilities and accountability for their own actions, and so sometimes he was scolded. he seems to love that he was scolded? tbh, it feels like such a love language between them. wyll gets into trouble (on purpose. why would he steal a peach. just pay for the peach.) he gets a scolding! kids do that, parents do that.

we dont know, even, what that scolding meant—and may i remind The Court, wyll was a public figure, just as his father was, and he was still allowed to have so much freedom to get into trouble. he gets a scolding, but thats it. he doesnt even really talk about any fancy upper city stuff, besides like, puke in duke portyr’s bushes, lol and that was grand duke of baldurs gate at the time. u need a lil scolding for that! and whose to say there wasnt a pat on the head or a squeeze on the shoulder afterwards?

ulder expects certain behaviors from wyll because he wants the best for him, because he believes in him.

hes the pride of the gate. he has pride in his son, and if u are proud of urself, if u love urself, u respect iurself and other ppl.

wyll had a happy childhood yall, and ulder raised him right, to have good morals and values a sense of duty and responsibility and JOY, it didnt pop out of a vacuum

also. it does matter that ulder goes. “my precious son, i will spend the rest of my life trying to make this up to u. how can u ever forgive me?” he doesnt EXPECT forgiveness. he KNOWS he hasn’t earned it. he WANTS to atone. he knows he made a mistake and did something unforgivable. even tho he did it for very reasonable reasons

wyll doesnt have to forgive him! but like. its complex. its a good ass story. wyll has a good ass story

[blackjackkent]

Hey, Wyll. How you doing, buddy?

"Gods be damned. With that parasite in his brain, father could wreak untold havoc in the Absolute's name. Should Baldur's Gate fall to the Absolute, every one of the Coast's cities will be ripe for the plucking."

Poor guy.

I'm glad Hector and Wyll have been spending a little more time together during this arc. Wyll needs a friend, even if Hector is kind of drowning under everything he's having to carry right now.

I think Hector really respects Wyll a lot, actually. The Blade of Frontiers is supremely dedicated to his principles and willing to sacrifice himself for them, to put aside his own comfort for the benefit of others. Even now - when he would, frankly, have every right to be a little broken down, worrying for his father - he is all fire, worried for the greater good of the Sword Coast and ready to strike out against the threat.

"We're not just fighting for our cure. We're fighting for my father, we're fighting for the Gate, we're fighting for all of Faerun!"

Hector's certainly going to do his best for you, Wyll; I can promise you that.

"The Absolute's cult has Ravengard. Where will they take him?"

"Wyrm's Rock fortress. All travelers to Baldur's Gate flow through it. It serves as headquarters for the Flaming Fist, and their commander - my father. The Absolute's army's on the march. Gods forbid a tadpoled Grand Duke throw open the gates for them."

Well, that gives us a definite next destination at least. Hector is not familiar with Wyrm's Rock (or really much of the city beyond the path to the market where the monastery bought supplies), but we do have one quest whose next stop is at Wyrm's Crossing - the laughing amulet we got back at Grymforge - so that seems like a good sign also.

"What do you know about Gortash and Orin?"

"Orin, I'd never heard tell of. But Gortash I know. Or know *of*, more precisely. A self-styled 'strategic advisor' to Baldur's Gate's peers. A bit player with dreams of a leading role, the way father told it. He had no use for Gortash, and even less for his 'advice.' I don't remember much beyond that. But where these 'Chosen' are concerned, I have a suspicion we're about to know more than we'd like."

Unfortunately, that's probably true.

Everyone's stories are certainly lining up, if nothing else. The consistent image we've gotten about Gortash is that he's an upstart who is climbing into the upper class by any means necessary; he sounds thoroughly unpleasant and quite dangerous. But no one seems to know what the deal is with Orin, the Bhaal worshipper.

This is a shame because I really want to know what her deal is. Throne of Bhaal (the final expansion of BG2) ends with Bhaal dead and all his children obliterated for good, with the protag either choosing to renounce their blood and live as a mortal or become a god in their own right. There's not a lot of room there for the worship of Bhaal as he previously existed to still be going on.

(Given Hector's sage knowledge of history and the fact that he knew the historical name of Balthazar suggests to me that he knows all of this, too, and is equally perplexed by it.)

Some twist is still coming.

"Mizora said you can say what led to your pact and exile. It's time I know the whole truth."

"Yes. But first a question. If your home was under siege, what would you sacrifice to save it?"

Hector blinks. The sudden pointed reversal of questioning is not what he was expecting, and he has to consider the question for quite a long time.

Interestingly, the first point on which he becomes stuck is - what is his home? Once he would have answered Silverlight Monastery without question, but he has been through so much, for so many months... he cannot picture himself settling back into the life of the monastery so easily anymore. He has new ties binding him more strongly - to his friends, to Karlach. And in the end it is that which he considers instead, in trying to answer Wyll's question.

If your friends, if the woman you love, were under siege, what would you sacrifice to save them?

"I'd give my life if it meant keeping them safe,"* he answers softly.

"As would I," Wyll says bluntly. "And more." He straightens, looks past Hector into the middle distance with a grim expression. "I was seventeen. Father - Ulder Ravengard - had just been named a grand duke, and was called away to Elturel to help settle a dispute. That's when the Cult of the Dragon made its move."

Narrator: [RELIGION] The Cult of the Dragon - a fractured religion. Some believers hold that undead dragons will inherit the world. Others worship the dragon goddess Tiamat and intend to summon her to Faerun.

Hector nods slowly, remembering dusty pages in the monastery library speaking of the cult and its dark rituals. But one thing has already struck him more than anything else about Wyll's story. Wyll was seventeen when this happened.

"The Grand Duke left a mere boy in charge?" he asks, bewildered. "That can't have gone well."

"Not just a boy," Wyll says, his jaw clenching with determination, with a half-forgotten family pride. "A Ravengard, schooled in the four pillars - courage, insight, strategy, justice."

He pauses, and his shoulders sag a little as the memory presses forward. "A tenday after father left, I heard a whisper as I slept. 'Dusthawk Hill. The Queen of Chaos awakens. Go alone.' I grabbed a rapier and set out. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, yet not a single star was shining. There they were... gathered at the foot of the hill."

Narrator: Your head tingles. Wyll wants to show you what happened.

Allow Wyll to share his memory with you.

Narrator: In the looming shadow of the mount, five groups of five figures each encircle a lofty totem. Atop each totem, a dragon's head is carved, and a massive orb held in its mouth. The cultists chant, first softly, then crying to the starless sky. [RELIGION] There is a crack of thunder, a gust of wind - and a dragon's white head appears in the storm, the first of Tiamat's five heads. As the maelstrom howls, Mizora's lips press to your ear. 'She will destroy Baldur's Gate. Grant me your soul - and I will give you the power to save it,' she whispers.

Hector can feel the cold sharpness of the memory - of the teenage Wyll's fear and pride and determination, and the desperation that led to his answer.

His vision clears to look at Wyll as he is today; there is sadness in the Blade's face, but no regret. "She read the terms while two devils stood witness," he says. "And I said yes. One soul for one city."

Hector frowns. "Surely Mizora doesn't care about Baldur's Gate," he says, puzzled. "Why would she want to save it?"

"She didn't," Will says, somewhat bitterly. "She came on order of her mistress Zariel."

At Hector's side, Karlach flinches instinctively at the name, and her expression twists with grief on Wyll's behalf. "She never stops, does she?" she mutters. Hector can hear her voice crack. "Not for a second."

"Tiamat made a play for power. Zariel had other plans," Wyll goes on flatly. "That's the most Mizora's ever said - all that mattered was that she got her prize - another pet added to her warlock menagerie."

Hector looks at the younger man with a new respect, and more than a little pity. Seventeen years old, to be forced into such a choice, and to accept it on behalf of so many innocents without any hesitation... the courage that must have taken. He does not think that he himself would have such bravery, and certainly not when he was so young.

"Sacrificing your soul to save the city was a brave thing to do," he says gently.

Wyll tips his head to one side and looks at Hector thoughtfully for a moment. There's a slight tug to his lips in an almost-smile, suggesting that he's touched, even gratified, by the compliment. But all he says is, "I don't know that it was brave. I just know that it was right."

There's a long pause before he goes on. "The moment I agreed, I burned with the fires of Avernus and oozed the rot of Dis. The cultists choked on our poisons and burned from our flames. When we were done, all that remained were five greyed orbs atop a pile of ash."

"Is that how you lost your eye?" Hector asks. "In the battle with the Cult of the Dragon?"

"It is," Wyll says with a slight nod. "The one scar I ever bore of it. Mizora replaced it with a sending stone. She uses it to track my location and speak from a distance." His lips twitch in tight frustration. "I could flee to the Spine of the World or the depths of the Lowerdark, and still never shake her."

Hector frowns. "And what about your father, the Grand Duke?"

Wyll's face goes very still. "He returned to an unsuspecting city and a wayward son with a smirking devil at his side. I tried to tell him the truth, but my mouth couldn't form the words. I led him to the battlefield, but Mizora had swept it clean." A long silence. "After, he said only one word. 'Go.' So I did."

Hector's heart twists with regret and sympathy for the boy that Wyll was. He himself has no parents that he can remember, but he can picture the pain that would have come with being turned from his home by those he cared about.

When they find Duke Ravengard again... he hopes he has the chance to tell him of his son's bravery, and make him understand it.

-

* Slight artistic license; in-game line is "I'd give my life if it meant keeping the residents safe", but that didn't track with the thought process I had Hector going through. XD

[nostalgiachan]

Cry

Twenty-Eighth Prompt: The Elder Brain has been defeated or dominated. What is Vier feeling?

Act Three Spoilers

Summary: Vier did it. She saved the day. She should be happy, but... (831 words)

---

Truly, in her heart of hearts, Vier wanted to feel happy. She wanted to celebrate the fact that she and her companions dear had just saved the Sword Coast, if not the world. She wanted to round everyone up, head on over to the Elfsong, and throw the biggest, loudest godsdamned party the city had ever seen because they fucking deserved it. They killed three of the gods’ own Chosen, a devil in his own sanctuary, and an Elder Brain the likes of which had never been seen before on the face of Toril. Frankly, they’d performed miracles.

But she couldn’t. She couldn’t feel much of anything, honestly, beyond the desperate want to weep. The world had been saved, yes, but everything else had fallen apart in swift order.

The Emperor, without whom she would have long-ago succumbed to the Netherbrain’s influence, had betrayed her at the last for reasons she genuinely could not understand. She’d done everything asked of her, placed her faith in him so thoroughly, but in the end, he could not do the same for her. Why? Because she wouldn’t consent to giving up her form, her self, to become like him? Because he couldn’t fathom working with a mortal that he did not enthrall? She would never know the reasons why, and it gnawed at her inside. She had taken little pleasure in slaying what had once upon a time been the Hero of Baldur’s Gate.

Then, there was Orpheus. To be imprisoned for thousands of years, to have your powers siphoned away and to helplessly watch your people die around you, only to be released and asked to turn into the thing you devoted your life to destroy. How would Vier honestly live with this, knowing that she damned a hero to this fate because her will faltered at the very last? She may have convinced him to live on and to see his people prosper, but how could that be anything more than small comfort?

And then there was Lae’zel, taking up Orpheus’s mantle and immediately riding off to war in the Astral Plane. She wanted so desperately for Lae’zel to stay in Faerûn, to make a life for herself away from the endless violence that her culture had raised her to enact. Yet, in the face of true freedom for the githyanki from the grip of a queen who would see them burn to fuel her ascent to godhood, such a wish felt deeply selfish. So instead, she wished her friend well as she saddled up a red dragon and took off for parts unknown.

Next in the cavalcade of suffering came Karlach. Vier had worked so tirelessly for so long trying to find a cure for Karlach’s condition. All along their journey, she had proven preternaturally good at finding a third option for any situation; she ran herself ragged ensuring that everyone, everyone, would get their happy ending when all was said and done. But in the end, she simply couldn’t for Karlach. When faced with the options of either burning to ash, turning into a mind flayer, or returning to Avernus, there really was no other way. She had to go back.

And poor Wyll. Vier had pulled the trick of a lifetime to free Wyll from Mizora’s contract and rescue his father, but now, all that meant was he’d be going to Avernus with Karlach without magic to aid him. They’d both be placing their lives on the line each and every day until, by some miracle, someone managed to discover how to stabilize her engine outside of the hells. But how long would that be? Months? Years? Would they live long enough to see such a thing realized?

And then, of course, there was the shuddering spawn cradled in her arms as they both huddled behind a crate away from the dawn’s rays. With the tadpoles destroyed, and Astarion having given up his chance at ascension, he was no longer immune to the light. Cold fear gripped Vier’s heart as she watched the sunlight carve silver lines into his flesh, smoke rising from the growing wounds as he began to disintegrate.

It was nearly enough to make her curse Lathander in her heart. After everything they had done, no exception could be made for him? They had slain a creature that even the gods had feared; did that not warrant some kind of blessing? Why must he return to the shadows now?

As she held her darling close, she knew she needed to get him up and moving. She knew they would need to find a new place to hide as the sun crawled across the sky. But she simply couldn’t find the words. She no longer had the strength. All she could do was hold him and cry.

Cry for herself. Cry for him. Cry for their friends. Cry for everyone they had lost, everyone they had damned, everyone they had saved.

Cry until there was nothing left.

[unsoundnovel]

THE IRON BULL: BG3 VERSE.

MARQUESS HISSRAD of AVERNUS. son of DUKE ARIQUN, under ARCHDUCHESS ZARIEL

known formally and informally as: THE IRON BULL.

like if interested in interacting in this verse, u know the drill!

CAMBION. the son of a TYMORA tiefling priestess turned ZARIEL worshipper, and DUKE ARIQUN, who came to her when her Goddess seemed to abandon her.

THE IRON BULL performs many tasks. He’s a General in The Blood War, who happens to have enough charm to form alliances between warlords. He’s hand of his Father—who is hand himself to ZARIEL, though he constantly schemes against her. But The Iron Bull is known far and wide throughout the Hells for two things besides the massive amounts of demons he’s slain. His time spent in Abriymoch—the legendary Pleasure City of Plegythos—where his performance and gambling habits were just as legendary—and his fabulous grift on the surface.

His Mother, leader of a band of Zariel cultists—go around from Temple to temple, pillaging, fighting, in search of new adventures and the spoils of them they were never given by Tymora. In comes her special, big little boy in the guise of a tiefling—to whisper you sweet nothings and sweet promises to the desperate and the needy. Your God couldn’t help you. But I can, my Father can, Zariel can.

The warlocks under The Bull’s charge are called, well, THE CHARGERS. Between you and him, his Father has a distaste for how lenient Bull is with the mortals. He mourns when they die, he helps them live well beyond their means, and he treats them well. Some even think of him as a friend, a lover, or a Father.

The Krem of the crop help their friends make more contracts with Bull.

They know what happens, when they die. They’re willing to serve under him in Hell, too.

Bull doesn’t know at what point that started to mean something to him.

For this reason, he prefers the selfish, evil bastards like himself.

There are a few potential ways to recruit him. The easiest way is, of course, getting into contact with the mercenary band, THE CHARGERS, who are currently tasked with shuffling the Tieflings from Elturel to Baldur’s Gate. The fact that they’re connected to a devil is secret—but after Wyll is transformed, and Raphael has revealed himself, The Chargers will offer up their secret—the secret they think will help you defeat The Goblins. Dad Bull will help you, for no price—as long as The Chargers are with you, and he can “get one over on that prick Raphael.” The fact that he’s really here to keep an eye on you, Wyll, Raphael, his investment in his lovable gang, and this whole Elder brain situation…. well, that’s just a bonus.

The second way is for an evil-aligned or evil-aligned party, where you either kill The Chargers along with the grove, or they are all killed some other way, and you meet The Iron Bull in an abandoned house of Tymora in the Shadowlands. He pretends to be praying. And maybe he sincerely is grieving. But he’s mostly there to charm you and seduce you, at very low cost to himself. He offers to join your party—this time, in place of Wyll, as Mizora/Zariel was using Wyll to spy on the party. You can make a pact with him—or you can not, but he’s here to see this adventure through, to the end.

Also, he likes to dress as a priest, because Hot Priest! He lives for the Drama.

[oscararcane]

Amis as a companion

7. Describe their arc. How would a player help resolve it? What choices can be made? Can your Tav be turned down a dark path, or pulled to a lighter one?

Act I

After recruiting Amis, the player can ask several questions about who they are and where they come from. They initially give a fairly succinct account of their life, leaving out the more personal details. The PC learns that Amis was born in a Wood Elf village not too far from where they are but left when they were a teenager to make a life for themself in Baldur’s Gate, where they made a career out of entertaining wealthy patrons.

By prodding a little further, the PC can also learn that Amis was the one who guided Wyll to the grove. They explain that Wood Elves are closely connected to druids, who are the link between their communities. They knew how to recognize the signs that a grove was close, even if they had never seen it themself. Amis says they tried to enter the grove proper, but when they said they wanted to speak to Halsin, they were rejected by Kagha.

As the player gains access to the grove, they can find a letter amongst Halsin’s things mentioning shadow druids infiltrating a village, desecrating their teleportation circle and stealing the sending stone that connected them to the Emerald Grove. They mention sending a hunting party after the thieves but ask for the druids’ help. Amis will recognize the name of the village as their childhood home. This information can be found through Halsin himself. He’ll recognize Amis and inform them of what happened in their village.

If the player asks Amis about it later, they admit being unsure of how to feel about it. They reveal that they didn’t leave their village on the best of terms. Being only half a Wood Elf, they know little about their father, beyond the fact that he was human and their mother had some resentment toward him. Amis explains that their mother may not have hated them and their twin brother, but she had no love for them either. She expected both of them to be of use to the community and high expectations were placed on them. Expectations Amis’s brother kept meeting while they preferred to carve their own path. They struggled to fit in in the village and the only friend they made was the village elderly storyteller, who taught them their art and how to invoke magic through music. When the storyteller passed away, Amis figured they had no place in the village anymore and left. Their only regret was abandoning their twin brother. They tell the PC that whatever is happening to their village, they just hope their brother is alright.

Upon investigating the shadow druids plot, the player can learn more and discover that what happened to Amis’s village was part of a plan to isolate the groves and take them over. Contact was however lost with the thieves, as they entered the Shadow-Cursed Lands to flee. Amis will find that particular piece of information more concerning. They don’t remember the whole story behind the Shadow-Cursed Land, but they do remember that no one should ever enter them, under any circumstances. They hope and assume that the hunting party didn’t follow the thieves there, as they would, and should, know better.

(I’m sure you know where things are going for Act II lol.)

[shimmerbeasts]

As Wyll remarked how one of his pact clauses demanded secrecy from him in regards to her - clever, little pupster -, Mizora tapped a finger upon her lips in thought and mused: "If I deem your little posse trustworthy enough, I might just loosen your tongue, so you can tell your friends how we met. After all, it is a real cracker of a tale."

Wyll fell silent again, and Mizora took note of his expression darkening. Her gaze flitted down to his tail curling, inching closer towards hers. Her lips pulled into a serene, winning smile. How adorable! Wyll was even more an open book these days and his tail's flick made Mizora keenly aware of how much her pet still saw her as his mother - a role, she played with great glee.

Hearing Wyll's fears of being alone again, Mizora gave a low, comforting purr. She reached forward as much as the summoning circle allowed her and managed to cup Wyll's cheek, if only briefly. Mizora reassured him: "Even if that were the case, you would never be fully alone, puppy. You have me. I will never leave your side. You are bound to my leash, pet, and I shall watch over you until and beyond the day you die."

Her purr became deeper and fuller as Wyll's mind unintentionally showed him sitting on the throne of his father, the Grand Duke Ulder Ravenguard, with her watching over him beside the chair like the loyal shadow, she had always been. Her goodwill wrapped itself around Wyll like a warm blanket made of something very soft, smooth, yet distinctly organic.

She let him lose himself in his fantasy of what he could be as the grand duke. Seeing him take such broad steps towards something darker, seeing that pride in his face was absolutely delectable. Mizora allowed herself just a nip of Wyll's emotion, tasting the overwhelming sweetness and richness of his pride, swallowing and massaging her throat in bliss at the sensation. Her smile widened, showing Wyll her fangs in earnest, and her eyes glowed hotter than the fires of hell.

Mizora whispered: "I can see it, and I think it is a glorious destination to keep in mind for us. You as the Grand Duke of the City and me as your second hand and advisor, operating from the shadows... Oh, Baldur's Gate's future looks radiant indeed!" She clicked her tongue against her teeth. "Can you imagine it, Wyll? The statues they build you, the temples, dedicated to my mistress and me, they will build for me. Oh, you will be truly unstoppable, little wolf, and I, for one, cannot wait!"

Standing this close to one another, Mizora idly kept her fingers looped around the invisible chain. As Wyll said how he had just needed a bit of guidance and how a fiend's hands could hardly be considered good, the Cambion said: "Wyll, those who make a pact with any supernatural creature, are more than willing to risk things others are not. They need the idle hands of something unpure to reach their full potential. The precious Blade of Frontiers always shone the brightest when it was steeped in red. And I kept my promise, did I not? I made you the best monster hunter, you could be."

Mizora sat down on the tree trunk, her tail curling sideways and weaving around Wyll's. She responded: "I believe they can. After all, even if the position was taken by somebody else, the fact that your father held it at all, makes him valuable. It is the price, people pay for power. Someone else will always covet it. The only way, you can avoid your rank being coveted, is by developing a method of doing things, so efficiently and intrinsically you, that nobody else but you can do it. That's a truth for Faerun and the Hells." Her face tensed up and she put her chin in her hand, her expression darkening. "Believe me, I know."

Waiting for Wyll to sit beside her, Mizora said: "Well, that little upstart Gortasch soon seized power after your father kicked you out. Established a whole new elite force, which was supposed to keep the city safe: the Steelwatch. Not people, but mechanical guards. They are slowly but surely pushing the Flaming Fist out of a job, if their members have not been paid off by Gortasch himself. And he seems to believe because all money flows to him, he has a claim towards Baldur's Gate. Of course, that also means he will swiftly deal with opposition. In quite gruesome ways, I heard too. So yeah, if your father is being held on Gortasch's orders, then the situation could be dire indeed."

It was true, those around him were not warlocks like himself. Moreover they didn't know the personal history that he and Mizora had, nor would they ever. As such they could never understand the bond between them and why he simply couldn't escape it. Why he would never try of his own volition to do so. Not after everything Mizora had given him over the last seven years.

"I suppose they would have some understanding, should I tell them the whole story, but I swore my secrecy to you. I would not dare try going back on my word now." There was a firm conviction still in Wyll's eyes. As much as he had changed over the years, Wyll kept his promises, forced or not. "They are a good bunch, the lot of them, but they will never understand. Nor do I expect them to, especially Karlach."

Eventually everyone would go their separate ways once the cult of the absolute was taken care of. When there would no longer be the tadpoles in their head connecting them. However the binding contract, now contracts, connecting Mizora to him would never go away. She would keep him company, just she always had. Of course he wasn't aware that there was something different about their bond in comparison to other warlock relationships with their patrons. He'd assumed that to be so interlocked, was a natural part of being in a pact.

"They wouldn't have approved of this meeting, of me summoning you here. They would have tried to stop me, the protective lot that they are." Wyll's tail curled as well, as if wanting to be closer to hers. "Yet after they eventually leave, I fear I will be left behind. I don't want to face that reality alone."

It was bad enough that it happened with his father, a man whom he thought had loved him, only to turn on him the second he saw the sight of the half-fiend by his side. He hadn't just cast him aside, he had disowned him. Claimed he was no son of his, merely a spawn that took his beloved wife from him and then sold his soul to a devil. Now, he could predict the same happening, with his friends here. Sure, they seemed welcoming for now, but what would happen if they found out that he no intention of ever parting from this pact? That he was proud of it? Would they stay do or do the same as his father? He was prepared for both cases.

Speaking of his father, He pondered whether he would go as far as to take over as Grand Duke. Could he limit himself to such a position? With his father gone, he could stake claim to the title should his father never be free of his captors, or worse. Could he ground himself to staying put? Possibly. If only to prove that he truly could become so much more than his father ever dreamt of. A grin graced his features at the image of his fathers face, seeing his son snatch the position from him, with Mizora at his side. An image he shared with the half-fiend unintentionally.

"I could show them all what they threw away all of those years ago. Can you see it? Myself sitting in his throne, with all the power to do anything. I have all this power pulsing through my veins, more than he ever had. Imagine what I could do with it." There was pride in the way he spoke then, his resolve clear as the nights sky. His tail moved back and forth, a show of his excitement. "Maybe then he would finally acknowledge me, see the good I could do. No one would dare touch Baldur's Gate every again, no, all of faerun would be under my watch as the Blade and Grand Duke."

He felt himself being guided towards her now, could feel the subtle force of it, but he made no attempt to stop it. After all, he had intentionally broken the circle. Despite the fact that he had always been chained to her, being her loyal bloodhound, he never felt more free. "I wouldn't say that, Mizora, just more back then I needed direction is all. Though I would argue that the hands of half-fiend, are anything but good."

Wyll let her guide him towards the fallen tree trunk as, peering down at the camp not far away, where everyone slept peacefully. Blissfully aware that two pairs of eyes were on them. "They can't ransom the position if it were taken over by someone, like myself, could they?" He frowned instantly at the mention of things being dire. "What do you mean dire? Do you think they intend to use him for other means? How much has changed since I was kicked out?"