#bjk plays BG3 Durge

[blackjackkent]

As I mentioned in my post last night, I love this cutscene between Minsc and Jaheira very much - and I also love the devnotes on it when looking through the parsed dialogue files, since they further emphasize all the things I love about these characters and their relationship.

So I have compiled all of it here because I need you all to experience the Emotions with me. XD

-----

MINSC: Jaheira... Boo is trying his best to explain, but I still do not understand your anger. (Devnote: Hesitant, a little apologetic - wants to get it but doesn't.) JAHEIRA: Do not hide behind your hamster, ranger. You do not understand, because you do not listen. We were the first to discover the cult. And if you had only waited, we might have marshalled our numbers and - MINSC: Good does not wait for evil to button up its britches - when it offers buttocks for the smacking, Minsc and Boo greet cheek with hand! (Devnote: Quietly scandalised at the notion that he should have stopped and waited for reinforcements, rather than wading into incredible odds alone.) PLAYER: That sounds like a fun evening. MINSC: It is well that Boo's innocent ears still ring from all this shouting. (Devnote: A little offended - the player is being inappropriate in front of his hamster.)

-----

JAHEIRA: You meant well, Minsc. But you exposed the city to harm. You helped the cult spread. And worse, perhaps, than any of this: You forced me to leave you behind. MINSC: But... this is where Minsc falls short of the understanding, Jaheira. (Devnote: Puzzled - a little wary to contradict Jaheira but working it out.) What else is a berserker for, if not to charge into danger ahead of his Wychlaran? (Devnote: Genuinely bemused. He would happily throw away his life to protect Jaheira, and takes it for granted that she knows this.)

-----

MINSC: Boo agrees, you are a queer kind of witch. But this city is a queer place. And Minsc, you may have noticed, is sometimes strange himself. (Devnote: Tone is "I know it's strange, I agree, but hear me out.") The titles matter not. Only this - when Minsc does as Minsc does, and charges in to make a mess: (Devnote: Brushing aside Jaheira's discomfort with the title of 'wychlaran', getting to the point of what he means.) Jaheira does as Jaheira does, and finds a way to save us all anyway. (Devnote: Absolute unshakeable faith that Jaheira can and will solve any problem.) PLAYER: Aw. That's actually kind of sweet. JAHEIRA: ...I fight alongside fools. MINSC: You hear that, Boo? We fight alongside a Wychlaran again. (Devnote: Utterly unconcerned by the "fool" part, quietly excited by the "Jaheira fights alongside us again" part.)

-----

PLAYER: Speaking of feelings - does Minsc know you were ready to kill the Emperor for him? [INTIMIDATION DC10] [CHECK PASS] JAHEIRA: ...My own foolishness does not absolve Minsc of his. [CHECK FAIL] JAHEIRA: A sad and desperate bluff. I need to be sure that Minsc understands I cannot make such a threat twice. MINSC: I have already pledged my sword and hamster both. What more does Minsc have to give? (Devnote: At a loss.) JAHEIRA: Your word, ranger - that next time, you will stop and think. I will not always be here to tell you what to do. MINSC: If not here, then where? Wherever there is, Minsc and Boo will go too! My hamster... he would not be parted from you again, Jaheira. (Devnote: Heavy emphasis on 'there' in second phrase. Jaheira has suggested she won't be around forever - Minsc won't hear of it. The last is the closest he gets to sincerely telling her how much he missed her.) JAHEIRA: ...I missed him, too. And try as you might, I know you have not missed my point as neatly as you pretend.

[blackjackkent]

Decided to give Wyll a kiss in the middle of the street outside Sorcerous Sundries for no particular reason and he opened up the conversation with this gutpunch:

"Mystra wants to meet Gale? Impressive. The only thing a god's ever offered me is a cold shoulder."

...Oh. :(

Poor young Wyll, cast out on his own with Mizora's glass eye in his head, praying for deliverance from the Triad and receiving nothing but silence in return. :( :( :(

[blackjackkent]

Wyll is trembling like a leaf when Jaheira pokes her head into his tent.

"I brought you some stew, cub," she says, setting a bowl down just inside the tent flap. "You will not want to come out to the fire tonight, I think." Her lips twitch with a brief flash of rueful humor. "Gale is holding forth about something or other that no one is in the mood to hear - least of all you."

She watches the Blade uncurl himself slowly from his hunched position. He wipes hastily at his eyes, his head tipped away from her in an attempt to hide his face, but she clicks her tongue dismissively. "Come now, boy," she says - and her tone is gentle in contrast to the curtness of the words. "Do you think I have not seen tears before? You have cause of crying; do not hold back on my account."

(Hypocrisy, of course. She would not be caught dead crying in his position; she would be swallowing down the tears and hiding the weakness, and she knows it perfectly well. But what use being so old, she thinks sardonically, if not to give advice one has no intention of following oneself?)

He tries to laugh but it doesn't quite come out right, a shaky, whimpering sound. "I'm-- sorry, I..." he mumbles. "I can't--"

Silence. She waits, watching, until he's ready to speak. "It didn't seem truly real till now," he finally whispers. "That they'd taken him, that my father--" He swallows. "He threw me out for listening to Mizora, and then he goes and gets himself taken by that-- that thing--"

His voice cracks and he looks down at his hands in his lap. "Like father, like son, eh?" he mutters. "I thought I'd failed him, all those years ago. That I was simply weak, that he would never have allowed anything to touch him as Mizora touched me. Seems I was wrong."

"The bitterest cut of growing up," Jaheira says with the ghost of a humorless smile. "The moment when you must learn that those who raised you are no more perfect than you are; some simply put on a good show of it." And some do not.

He nods. "All this time, I thought maybe... one day, there would be a reconciling," he admits. "And now this... he might be lost, with so much left unsaid..." He squeezes his eyes shut and she sees the glimmer of tears between the lids. "What if I can't save him?" he whispers.

She debates her answer before speaking - groundless hope or harsh practicality. "If it can be done, you will do it," she says at last. "And we will all be beside you."

She wishes there was some bit of certainty she could offer him in place of these empty words. Her own parents died in the flames of the crisis that toppled Tethyr; she has no memory of them. Sometimes it occurs to her, in vague terms, to be envious of those who know the faces of those who bore them. Other times, like now, it feels far easier never to have known.

"You should eat, Wyll," she says, gently nudging the bowl towards him. "It will gain no flavor by cooling off."

"I'm not hungry." He breathes out shakily. Then his head snaps up and he looks around with sudden wildness, starting to push up onto one knee. "I should-- I need to-- Rakha..."

"Stlarn. No," Jaheira says, and the word is suddenly so curt that it slaps him backwards into a sitting position again. "Do not trouble yourself with Rakha."

"She'll-- she'll need me, I--"

"She will keep." Jaheira frowns darkly. "The things she needs will not be found tonight, and they are a weight heavier than you need to carry. And for once, Wyll Ravengard, you will take care of yourself first, or I will know why."

He swallows. "Yes, mum," he says, and it's supposed to be a joke, but his voice cracks a little on the word.

There's a long silence. He leans over, puts his hand on the side of the bowl and drags it a few inches towards himself, but doesn't lift it. "She knew him," he mutters. "She was one of those behind the whole blasted plot, and he-- you saw the way he looked at her. And it's because of her that we have these things in our heads..."

He presses his fingertips to his temple and looks up at her with a lost, uncertain expression. "How do I look past that?"

"Wyll..." She sighs.

It is so much harder with Rakha than it was with Caden. Caden had Bhaal's blood, he stood on the precipice, but he never had the chance to truly fall into that dark god's clutches. Rakha, meanwhile, has spent her life submerged in blood; the best she can hope for is to be able to break the surface and draw a new breath.

"This is no better nor worse than what we have already learned of her," she says carefully. "The question to you remains the same. Do you hate her for what she has been, or do you love her for what she is, what she may yet be?"

She smiles ruefully. "No one but you can answer that question - and in truth I think no one would have cause to judge you if you decided it was too much. I hope you will not, but I would understand--"

"No," he says. "No, I-- I love her." He swallows and rubs the heels of his hands against his forehead. "It's just... it's just hard, that's all."

She nods. "I have loved many with darkness in their hearts," she says softly. "It is no easy matter. But you are equal to it." Her lips twitch. "Or you will be - if you will do as I say, and eat your stew, and sleep."

This startles a very low, very shaky laugh out of him, and he finishes pulling the bowl towards him and picks up the spoon. "All right. All right," he says. "I will. Blade's honor."

-----

"She was his friend?!" The flames around Karlach's body are high and wild, the highest Jaheira has yet seen them. The pale gold of her eyes has turned near blue with the incandescent heat. "She was his FUCKING FRIEND?!"

Jaheira watches the young tiefling warily, deliberately positioning her body between Karlach and the corner of the camp to which Rakha has retreated. "So it would seem," she says, her voice calm in contrast to Karlach's rage. "Though it cheapens the word to use it."

"I'll kill her," Karlach growls. "I'll fucking kill her. All this time, she was old buddies with Gortash? For how long, huh? Were they palling around the night he decided to pack me off to Avernus? Were they sitting about with a nice cocktail, talking about how my blood money paid off their first shipment of fucking worms?"

"I do not know, Karlach." Jaheira shakes her head. "Nor does Rakha."

"Yeah. Right. We sure of that? Maybe she remembers more than we think." Karlach's lips twist in a hard, manic smile; the rage is bright and blinding in her eyes. "Seems like the only thing I'm sure of right now is that she went into that fucking keep and swore an oath not to hurt him. Well, y'know what? I haven't sworn any fucking oaths, and I'm really, really, really ready to hurt someone."

She pulls the heavy sword from her back, makes a half-turn, and takes a step forward, about to break into a run.

In an instant, one of Jaheira's scimitars is out of its sheath. Without hesitation, she snaps her arm forward so that the hilt knocks smartly against Karlach's wrist.

Karlach yelps and drops her sword with a clang, shaking her suddenly stinging hand. "Ow! Shit!" She grips her wrist with the opposite hand and looks at Jaheira with wide eyes; surprise has muffled the rage for a moment, along with a hint of admiration. "Whoa."

"Do not think I do not understand your anger," Jaheira says curtly. "But I will not allow you to act on it. We both know you would regret it after."

A muscle works in Karlach's jaw with frustration, and then she spins and lashes out with a kick at the tent behind her, which immediately topples into a messy pile of fabric and poles. "Fuck..." she snarls down at it. "I can't believe we're working with that motherfucker. After everything I've been through..."

Jaheira cocks her head, looking at the young woman with no small amount of sympathy. She is all too familiar with the need for vengeance; a sudden memory flashes through her, of the sight of Jon Irenicus vanishing out of their grip deep within Spellhold, his mocking laughter lingering in the air behind him. No - she knows full well what Karlach is feeling. Unfortunately, it does not change the situation at hand.

"It is a practical matter," she says. "We have many enemies. This 'alliance' removes one of them for a time. It will not be forever." Her eyes narrow minutely and she folds her arms across her chest. "You will have your vengeance yet, Karlach."

Karlach leans over to pick up the sword she dropped, absently wiping a clump of dirt off the handle with her thumb. Her lips are pursed out, an attempt at masking her emotion but not a particularly successful one; Jaheira has seen many times already that Karlach's heart is worn firmly on her sleeve.

"I hope you're right," Karlach mutters. "But... what if she decides she likes him better'n us, huh? What if she decides she likes who she was then, better'n... all of this?" She waves a hand in a vague gesture towards the camp around them. Then her hand falls to her side and her shoulders slump.

"He welcomed her home," she adds quietly. The blue rage-glow is fading out of her eyes, and she stares at the ground next to Jaheira's boots. "Time was, not too long ago, I'd've done just about anything for someone who welcomed me home..."

Jaheira waits in silence for a moment. When she is certain that the immediate crisis has passed, she begins to slowly and methodically resheathe her scimitar on her back. "Do you trust Rakha?" she asks after a short pause.

Karlach laughs ruefully. "Ask me a tough one, hm?" She drops the sword with a low clunk on top of the pile of fabric that used to be her tent. "I think so? I mean, I did. I have. All the way through the shadowlands and all. We knew she was fighting some bad shit, but so are the rest of us, and I know Wyll loves her like fucking mad. But this..." She rubs at the bridge of her nose. "A Bhaalspawn, and now I find out she was working with Gortash too... It's just a fucking lot to take in, you know?"

"I know." Jaheira considers, then amends the question: "Do you trust me?"

Karlach's head snaps up and she blinks rapidly. "What? Of course I do, ma'am. You're--" She grins sheepishly. "I mean, you're Jaheira. Be stupid not to trust you, right?"

If only that were always the case. "Take my word, if you do not take hers," Jaheira says firmly. "This is the correct choice."

A short silence. Karlach studies her expression closely. "You're that sure of her?" she asks. "That she'll keep fighting and won't turn on us?"

Jaheira's eyes flick away.

The truth is that of course she isn't sure. Rakha is, at her worst moments, a feral animal struggling to hold onto its own leash; Jaheira would be foolish to think she is not capable of being supremely dangerous.

But... she sees snatches of someone else, buried deep in all that darkness - a curious, doggedly determined, oddly guileless, deeply frightened woman clinging onto sanity by her fingernails, a dark-mirror echo of one of Jaheira's oldest and greatest friends. She can't turn her back on that - no matter how uncertain the path.

"I would stake my life on it," she says gravely.

Karlach tilts her head, and then laughs suddenly. "Yeah," she says wryly. "Guess we all will, huh?'

-----

Rakha has dragged Lae'zel's training dummy away from the camp. She stands in the seclusion of nearby trees and another rotted-out building, and is pacing around the dummy like a stalking animal. Every now and then, with a sudden spasm of movement, she lashes out with a punch, a kick, a gripping rip to pull a piece of fabric away from the wooden frame. She has been at this for some time. Her knuckles are bloody.

As Jaheira draws near, she can hear the half-orc mumbling to herself, inarticulate phrases, frantic nonsense sounds. Her mismatched eyes - one blank white, the other pure black - glint almost imperceptibly in the dim light.

"Don't come near me," she snarls, hearing Jaheira's footsteps behind her.

Jaheira halts at once. "As you say," she says mildly.

"I mean it." Rakha's breath sounds ragged and rough; she inhales in a gasping, mewling groan, as if struggling for air. "I'm broken. Dangerous."

"You sound very certain of that," Jaheira says, keeping her tone carefully measured.

"I am. You heard him. Gortash." Rakha puts a strange twist on the name that is hard to define - it sounds like a curse, like a groan of pain. "He knew me. Blood and all, every bit on my hands. He was glad to see me. We were-- partners--"

"So it would seem."

Rakha growls hoarsely. Magic pulses around her body and then erupts outward, a thunderous shockwave that knocks the dummy ten feet backwards. It crushes the grass in a circle around her. "We were partners," she snarls. "We built this." She presses her fist against her temple, leaving a bloody smear from her knuckles across her skin. "All of it. The worms. The cult."

Again that strange whimpering gasp; she hunches over as if shielding herself from some unseen blow. "Bhaalspawn. Chosen. I wanted them all dead. Blood spattered, entrails spilled, thanking me as they died for the Absolute..."

She lifts her head, and for a moment Jaheira truly is frightened to see the manic desperation that has taken over her expression. "I did this," she rasps. "I did all of this. What happened to Wyll... it's because of me. What happened to Lae'zel... to Minthara... to you-- it's all-- because-- of me--"

Her breath is coming in rapid and uneven gasps now, hyperventilating, choking. And the words start coming faster, too, not her usual clipped-off sentences but a waterfall of terrified thought. "I could feel it, there, when he looked in my eyes, I remembered-- I remembered how I wanted to tear off his skin, how I had a greater plan, to bleed every last soul of the world into a pile of rancid carcass--"

She stops abruptly, her eyes wild, her fingers curled into desperate clawing shapes as she struggles for control. Her gaze rakes over Jaheira's body, and Jaheira is reminded all too clearly of the madness in Caden's face in the moments when the Slayer form took him. Subtly she shifts her weight, ready to dart to the side, to fight back if the need should come... but Rakha shakes her head suddenly, staggers backward and falls to her knees.

"I can't make it stop..." she gasps out. "What if I can't make it stop...?"

"You can." It takes a great deal of effort for Jaheira to keep her voice steady and even, not to betray any of the fear and revulsion that is rising in her in spite of herself. What if you can't, indeed? "You are strong enough."

"Am I?" Rakha laughs. Jaheira is not sure she's ever heard her laugh before, and certainly not like this; it's a bitter, hysterical sound full of pain. "It would be easy to give in. No more fighting. He wanted all of me, all of the broken parts. I could just give in... give in, and it would all be easy... no fighting, no wondering, just blood, and blood, and blood..."

She rocks spasmodically side to side, her fingers clawing restlessly at the uneven scar along her hairline. "Oh, gods, I can't make it stop..."

With a sudden movement that is more instinct than thought, Jaheira crouches to eye level with her, reaches out and cups both of Rakha's cheeks, wrenching her head up so their eyes meet. "Look at me. Hold on. Breathe," she snaps.

Rakha flinches back from the touch, her lips curling back from her teeth. "Why do you help me?" she snarls. "You should hate me. All of you should hate me."

Her eyes lock onto Jaheira's, desperate, feral. "Hate me."

"No." Jaheira's eyes narrow and her jaw sets, staring back just as fiercely.

"Gods. I'm broken. Shattered. Hate me."

"No." No doubt it would be easier if she could. She wishes she could, for then the path would be clear.

"HATE ME!" Rakha screams, and curls backwards into herself, her head hunching down into her arms. "Please..."

"I will not." Jaheira's pulse is thundering in her throat. She feels the delicacy of this moment, not so different from taming a beaten and frightened animal in the woods. "Those thoughts are in you, but they are not you. They do not define you. Who you were is not who you are. Breathe."

Rakha draws a ragged, sobbing breath that wracks her whole body. "It hurts..." she groans.

"I know. Look at me." Jaheira waits, carefully unmoving, until Rakha lifts her head and their eyes meet again. The frantic terror is ebbing away, slowly replaced by an exhaustion that makes something in Jaheira's heart twist to witness.

"I don't want to slip," Rakha whispers.

"I know," Jaheira repeats, more gently.

Rakha breathes in, shuddering. "I don't want to-- for Wyll--" she mumbles unsteadily.

"No." Jaheira shakes her head, just slightly. "Do not think of Wyll. Do not think of me. What do you want?"

The question seems to give Rakha some pause. She looks down at her hands, the blood on her knuckles, and then closes her eyes. "I want peace..." she says, almost too low to hear. "But I don't know where to find it..."

Jaheira relaxes a fraction, rocking her weight back. "You will not find it with Gortash," she says.

Rakha doesn't answer aloud, but raises one shoulder in a stiff shrug.

A long, long silence passes. Neither of them moves. Then Rakha shifts, and her eyes hood over again as she looks away. "I don't want to sleep in camp," she mutters. "I'll sleep out here."

Jaheira nods. "Then I will join you," she says brusquely. Without waiting for a response, she moves to the edge of the clearing and sits down with her back against a tree.

Rakha hesitates a moment. She seems as if she wants to say something, but though her mouth opens, no words come out. Then she shrugs again and turns away. Finding a patch of uncrushed grass, she lies down and curls her bulky frame into a tight ball, her back to Jaheira and to camp.

-----

Only when the half-orc's breathing turns steady and shallow does Jaheira allow herself to relax. She slumps, suddenly aware of all the weariness that adrenaline has been holding back, and rubs a hand down her face.

Ye gods... she thinks ruefully, leaning her head back against the comfortingly solid tree trunk behind her. How do I keep getting caught up in things like this?

In this brief moment of quiet, with no one to witness it, she allows herself the acknowledgment - she is frightened. This may be the second Bhaalspawn she has known, but Rakha is not Caden; that fact is becoming clearer with every moment, with every new revelation about the half-orc's bloody past.

And regardless of the confidence she expressed to Wyll and Karlach, Jaheira is not at all certain that they will win the battle for Rakha's mind.

I may have to kill her, she thinks bleakly. All of this may yet be for nothing in the end. The thought makes her scowl.

But not if I can help it. I will hold onto her with every bit of strength I have, before I will let Bhaal have her. I will hold onto them all...

[blackjackkent]

Family photo: Jaheira and her latest crop of degenerate children. XD

(And Wyll.)

[blackjackkent]

Working through Rakha's playthrough has had me thinking a lot about the Dark Urge as it relates to the other companion backgrounds.

Initially I was sort of surprised that everyone seems so fundamentally chill about learning that Durge has these dark compulsions, murder urges, bloodlust, etc. But the more I've thought about it and written about it, the more I've seen Rakha finding points of connection and points to relate to pretty much everyone she's traveling with.

I feel like I'm probably not the first person to comment on this, but nevertheless...

Karlach, good-natured as she is, becomes a violent juggernaut when she goes into a rage - not just a barbarian mechanic thing, as we see when she hulks out and tears apart the tollhouse after Anders' death. She's not completely out of control, but it's also not dissimilar from Durge going off the rails.

Astarion is driven by a lust for blood that is entirely disconnected from him as himself; he can struggle to resist it or channel it into productive avenues but it never leaves him entirely.

Shadowheart serves a power of darkness and is tormented by it even as she forms her identity around it. Based on her dialogue in the cutscene and after, there's reason to believe she doesn't really want to kill Lae'zel when she puts a knife to her throat - but she's driven by Shar, a dark force outside herself, to go to these extremes of violence even if she doesn't want to.

Wyll has lost control of his own life completely and left behind everything that he knew when Mizora took control of him. Like Durge, he has the choice to take the powers afforded him and use them in a positive direction, but he is not in control of them, and like Durge, he is cut off from everything he used to be and has had to build a new identity from scratch.

Lae'zel, similarly, is isolated from any familiar points of reference and making her way through a world that often makes no sense. She also is steeped in violence; from the beginning, she describes Durge's bloodlust as completely understandable and is only concerned about it being directed towards the right enemies.

Gale carries the force of the orb inside himself, another dark force that is beyond his control and nevertheless has the capacity to use his body for terrible destructive potential.

Halsin struggles with his more bestial nature and the tendency of the bear form to take him over in moments of excitement - and in that form he has little control over his body's violence. "I may not be able to help but to kill goblins."

I've heard that the game's design was originally centered around Durge, and the option for Tav was a later addition. I do wonder if these companion backstories, dissimilar as they seem at first glance, were deliberately constructed to all reflect aspects of the same struggle Durge is undergoing, from different angles and at different levels of severity.

Or I could be reading way too much into it, of course. :P But that can be fun too.

[blackjackkent]

One of the things I've been excited about regarding reaching this point in the game is that @astreamofstars informed me that there is Additional Minsc Content which I missed during Hector's playthrough! Specifically, last time I was so excited to follow him and meet Boo that I completely missed that you can see Minsc's little hideout down in the sewers, with his living area and some of his keepsakes. c:

He's actually got kind of a cute little setup here - bed area (complete with a cute little divider), cooking firepit, washtub, dining table. A lot of random chests and boxes and papers lying around. It amused me that the first thing I noticed was that the only thing on the dining table is "Whole Chicken" which feels on-brand.

The washbasin has several soap bars and sponges next to it. I know I'm hung up on the presence of this washbasin but for some reason I am deeply charmed at Minsc living in a sewer with his rodent and nevertheless having an elaborate bathing setup. (Alternate interpretation - he has it because it is His Home and Should Have a Bath but never actually used it. XD )

On a table next to the bed is a book labeled "The Stone Lord's Sketches," which is both adorable and heartbreaking:

Buddy. :( It's okay, you can remember him and have him back now.

The real treasure trove, however, is in the next room, past the wall Minsc smashed through, which has a number of items in what seem to be places of honor on pedestals along the walls.

It seems like someone at Larian forgot to make models for these items, because all of them (with the exception of the "Cracked Wooden Mask" look in-game like inscribed stone tablets. But we can use our imaginations!

All of the characters have commentary on each one if they're the active character to click on them, although Minsc's comment takes precedence if he's in the party even if he's not the active character. I'm going to list out all of them because I like digging through the dialogue files, but obviously Minsc and Jaheira have the most relevant things to say about each.

-----

Starting with "A Mailed Fist":

Narrator: A mailed fist in the Firecam armor style. RAKHA: Gorgeous mail on that fist. ASTARION: A mailed fist, for all your punching needs. LAE'ZEL: A mailed fist? Brutal indeed, but I prefer weapons with a more elegant profile. GALE: The mailed fist of a paladin of Torm. No doubt many felt the steely grip of its wearer's righteous justice. SHADOWHEART: A mailed fist. There must be a story behind this. WYLL: A mailed fist? Great for a paladin. Not so much for a warlock. KARLACH: Nice mail. HALSIN: A mailed fist. What tale does this have to tell? MINTHARA: A mailed fist - an inelegant but brutal weapon. JAHEIRA: Keldorn Firecam. He tried to teach Minsc much - a happy thing, that paladins are so patient. MINSC: Keldorn Firecam! He spoke much of honor and faith, but he fought like a berserker when it counted.

Keldorn! In this worldstate he traveled with Caden for a little bit and was a good mentor to the young Bhaalspawn for a time - although Caden eventually forced him to stay home and fix his marital problems. XD

-----

Next, "A Turnip":

Narrator: A humble turnip, preserved by drying. RAKHA: Huh. Dinner? ASTARION: It's - it's a turnip. Just a turnip, for all to see. LAE'ZEL: A turnip. Or is it a swede? Could never tell them apart. GALE: A humble vegetable depicted amongst such adventurous company. That is a turnip for the books. SHADOWHEART: A turnip? Not the most exciting of keepsakes. WYLL: A turnip. That's, er, something all right. KARLACH: All right, explain the turnip. HALSIN: A turnip? Not my favorite of nature's root vegetables, I must admit. MINTHARA: Is this animal, mineral, or fungus? I have not seen its like before. JAHEIRA: Jan Jansen. I admired his respect for growing things. Less so, his disregard for his own ripe smell. MINSC: Jan. A strange little man, but a fine friend. I can forgive him his love of turnips.

LOL. Of the five past companions represented here, Jan is the only one Caden never traveled with. He witnessed the little gnome getting carted off to prison early in the game, promptly decided that was something well worth minding his own business about, and never followed up further.

Also holy shit, that world-class pun from Gale out of nowhere.

-----

"A Warhammer":

Narrator: A worn but still capable warhammer, sized for a halfling. RAKHA: What a hammer. Looks like it has a history, too. ASTARION: Ah, a warhammer. A beautifully messy weapon. LAE'ZEL: Quite the warhammer. I imagine it's crushed more than a few skulls. GALE: No ordinary warhammer. Carved with the Luiric symbol for the number three. I wonder why. SHADOWHEART: It must take quite some brawn to wield a warhammer like that. WYLL: A warhammer like this cracks your skull, and you won't ever be the same after. KARLACH: Oh, wow. I bet that can do some real damage. HALSIN: An impressive hammer. MINTHARA: This hammer could shatter even the thickest of skulls. JAHEIRA: Mazzy Fentan. A living lesson not to trade tankards with a halfling; they have much less distance to fall. MINSC: Mazzy Fentan. Hah - not even the gods dared deny her when she sought to become a paladin!

Mazzy! Definitely Caden's favorite of the "flex slot" companions he traveled with in BG2. She was a super fierce halfling and wasn't officially a paladin but wanted to be. Nice to hear that maybe she reached that pinnacle in the end. :) (And LOL Jaheira.)

I'm not sure what the significance is of Gale's comment about the number three, and Google is unrevealing.

-----

"A Pair of Wings":

Narrator: A woodcarving of a pair of wings, like an eagle's but longer somehow. RAKHA: A pair of wings. ASTARION: Some discarded... wings? All right... LAE'ZEL: A pair of wings... GALE: The sylvan pinions of an Avariel. No easy task to capture their hollow delicacy in stone. SHADOWHEART: Wings? Who did these belong to? WYLL: A pair of wings? Hm. KARLACH: Some... wings? HALSIN: A pair of wings? MINTHARA: Wings. Were these plucked from some unfortunate celestial? JAHEIRA: Aerie's wings. She didn't need them, in the end. MINSC: Aerie. A brave avariel, who agreed to be my witch while I needed. She went in search of new wings.

Haha, the whole Act 1 gang is pretty befuddled by this one apparently. (And it seems like there might have been some confusion among the writers about whether they were carved wings or real ones.)

But awwww, yay, Aerie! Jaheira's comment on her is very sweet. :3 In this worldstate, of course, Aerie is safely in Faenya-Dail with her husband Caden and (by this point) several generations worth of descendents. I choose to believe that Minsc is speaking in a poetic metaphor, and the new wings Aerie went in search of were those of her son Quayle. :)

-----

And finally... the "Cracked Wooden Mask":

Narrator: A cracked wooden mask with female features, in the Rashemi style. RAKHA: Nice mask. What's the story here? ASTARION: A wooden mask. Not bad, but it's seen better days. LAE'ZEL: A wooden mask, perhaps of some cultural significance? GALE: A wychlaran face veil, worn by powerful witches in the Urlingwood wilds of Rashemen. The adornment of a skilled spell-weaver. SHADOWHEART: A wooden mask. Looks old. WYLL: A wooden mask - the sort worn by Rashemen's witches. KARLACH: Nice wooden mask. HALSIN: A wooden mask. For what purpose? MINTHARA: This mask is beautiful. I envy the one who had the authority to wear it. JAHEIRA: Hah. Even the wychlaran's mask could not hide Dynaheir's beauty - nor dull her daggered eyes. MINSC: All over Rashemen, they raised statues to Dynaheir. But this is Minsc's true monument to her - her wychlara mask.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. <3 <3 Dynaheir. <3 Minsc is such a good, loyal boy.

I love that Gale was able to clock the significance of all of these items (except the turnip) on sight. Wyll picks up on this one too which is interesting; wonder if a Rashemi envoy or two came through Wyrm's Rock when he was younger.

-----

All in all I'm a big feels puddle about all of this. I love that (more or less by chance) these are almost all characters that Caden did indeed hang out with extensively in the past games. And it is very bittersweet to see Minsc, who had the past ripped away from him by force, clinging on to these little remnants of it - particularly pieces of his past witches - with all of his strength.

[blackjackkent]

OK, bit of a late start on the liveblog tonight, but let's finish up Rakha's adventures in Sorcerous Sundries.

We left off having just killed Lorroakan, and it was even for a good cause and not just for Bhaal's bloodlust, so Rakha's feeling in a fairly good mood. She's also FASCINATED by Ramazith's Tower.

The Tower is beautiful. Even more so than the shop below it, it is a hub of magical energy, a battery, a storehouse of knowledge beyond anything Rakha has ever imagined before. She needs to explore it, to find all its secrets. She needs to show all these books to Gale and make him explain every single one. She needs to just sit there and watch, hours upon hours, as the Weave ripples and glides along the walls...

But of course, she cannot. Not while Lae'zel is still in Orin's hands. For now she must simply content herself with finding the information Gale wanted them to seek out, about the Netherese crown. This tower has clearly been here a long time; it can wait for her a little longer.

-----

Disappointed as I was that Rakha's Act 1 choices meant that we had to kill Rolan, this does nevertheless open up the possibility for a headcanon that I am quite pleased with, which is that Rakha claims Ramazith's Tower instead.

Honestly, I have come to rather dislike the Elfsong Tavern camp location, mostly because I get really sick of the damn song that's playing there all the time. I much prefer the open Lower City camp by the harbor. But in this particular case for Rakha, I'm going to say that instead of the Elfsong she ends up setting up their home base in the tower, and spends most of her downtime going forward picking through the place, disabling traps, reading aggressively, and staring at the walls.

(I would be thrilled if the game allowed us this as an option in this scenario tbh. XD But headcanon can do the job just as well.)

For now, though, time to go book-hunting.

[blackjackkent]

I expected Astarion might want to talk in the morning, given the invasion of his brethren during the night, but instead, guess who has an exclamation mark over their head.

lol, oh boy, here we go.

"I've had my eye on you. Hot as brimstone, jagged as lightning - and seething like the River Styx. But there's something missing, isn't there? You're hungry for pleasures beyond this plane. Something more satisfying than mortal flesh, blood, and bone..."

lololololol

This is such a deeply stupid tack for Mizora to take on a number of levels. It's obviously (in this playthrough) an attempt to dislodge Rakha from Wyll and make Wyll miserable, but there is no way that Rakha has ever given the SLIGHTEST indication that she is dislodge-able.

Certainly not by THIS means; as I've discussed previously, Rakha has turned out to take a generally disinterested view of sex except in the context of very specific relationships, where it is more about an expression of trust and vulnerability (and shutting away the beast for a while) than really about mindless pleasure.

Mizora would have a lot more luck by simply trying to play on Rakha's general feeling that Wyll deserves better than herself. That would honestly work a lot better than this.

(I mean maybe Mizora really DOES want to climb Rakha like a tree but I sort of doubt it; there's no way this isn't rooted in manipulation.)

Anyway, needless to say, it doesn't work.

"I have no idea what you're on about," Rakha says flatly.

"I'm talking about the mundanity of a life ignorant to the thrills of the Nine Hells," Mizora purrs. "Yes... you're curious. Your eyes are lit like raging stars. You want what only I can give you. The ecstasy of agony. The pain of the damned, distilled into pure bliss, beyond every climax you've known. The little death, writ large."

Her eyes narrow conspiratorially. "Smile, and I'll come to you when you put your head down to rest. I will sate your most forbidden lusts. Or... don't, and know the eternal ache of the unknown and the unanswered."

LOL, I have VERY rarely seen Rakha look this irritated.

Obviously, she knows exactly what Mizora is offering her, and she's disgusted by the implication that she would do that to Wyll. Sadly, the conversation doesn't allow us the ability to simply punch her, which is most definitely what Rakha wants to do here. Theoretically, now that Wyll's pact is broken, she could beat the shit out of Mizora without negative consequence to him.

Instead, all she can do is a flat, "Absolutely not."

Mizora laughs. "Dear me. I've overestimated you," she says, shaking her head in mock-disappointment. "I shan't be making that mistake again. Ta-ta!"

"..."

[blackjackkent]

OK, time for a very small nice thing for Rakha to counteract all the Horrors.

"*sniff*"

Narrator: The dog seems wary, sniffing you intently.

Offer your hand to the dog to sniff, being careful not to spook it.

Narrator: The dog sniffs your hand and seems more at ease.

"*Bark!*"

-----

Wyll watches Rakha with the dog, a slight smile touching his lips. And Jaheira watches Wyll, and frowns sympathetically.

"I can only imagine it is a trying time to love her," she says gently, in a voice low enough to reach only his ears.

Wyll stiffens. His eyes don't move from Rakha, but Jaheira can see the way he turns his body. It's an unconscious motion, protective, ready to step between Jaheira and Rakha if the need should arise. "Are you suggesting I ought not to?" he says carefully.

Jaheira smiles a little to herself. She could have expected this response. He's a good man, the Ravengard boy - the sort of stout support Rakha will need in the times to come. Caden had Aerie, and it made all the difference in some of his lowest moments.

And Wyll is not so far out of the way from Aerie, really. Both of them torn from their homes by terrible circumstance, mutilated by the cruelty of uncaring masters, and yet full of warmth in spite of it all. Both of them tossed into the way of a Bhaalspawn in whom they found light and love and hope in spite of the darkness. It's a comforting parallel.

And yet... Jaheira has to admit Wyll's path is strewn with far more rocks than Aerie's was. Caden carried Bhaal's taint, but he never slipped so far into the dark as Rakha has. There is an animal ferocity in Rakha that Caden never had, a beast that strains far more strongly at its leash.

"Hardly," she says. "Indeed, I am very glad you do. I only mean that it is not easy to love one so marked by fate."

Wyll hesitates. She can see his loyalty warring with his honesty.

She smiles faintly. "You need not confide in me unless you wish," she says. "Certainly this is only an old woman's meddling."

"No, it's--" He frowns, looks away for a moment - checks to see that Lae'zel and Minthara are not listening, that Rakha is still distracted by the pup. "I hate it," he admits, so low that even Jaheira can barely hear him. "I hate what it does to her. I look at her now... that little smile she gets on her face, that moment of gentleness. All the questions, the moments when she wants to learn, to do the right thing, to understand everything. The music. The magic - the beauty she sees in it, the things she tells me about..." He swallows. "That's the woman I love, and I'd do anything for her. But there's something else there that's not her at all, and it frightens me so terribly."

He trails off, looking down at his boots. "It isn't fair."

"No," she agrees quietly. "No, it most certainly is not. And it is a cruel truth, in my experience, that such unfair business lands all too often on the shoulders of those who deserve it least."

He fidgets uneasily with the hilt of the rapier on his hip. "If what she says is true... she did terrible things, back before she lost her memory. Am I simply a fool, to think that isn't her? That I can love her in spite of that, that she's someone different now?"

"Only you can answer that for yourself." Jaheira studies his expression thoughtfully for a moment. "But if you want my opinion - no. It does not make you foolish, but brave." A pause. "I have cared for many, in the past, who knew their share of darkness. And I am no fool. The foolishness would be in believing she has no choice to change."

He relaxes visibly and his eyes brighten at the reassurance. "Yes," he says. A slight pause. "Your friend... Gorion's Ward..."

"Caden," she says. Her lips twitch. "The legends speak of him always with such grandiose titles..."

He laughs softly. "Caden, then. Did he... frighten you, ever?"

She is quiet a long moment before answering. "At times. There were moments when I knew he struggled with things I could not see. And it frightened me to know that in the end it was his journey, and I could do nothing but stand at his side and see him through."

Wyll nods. "I would take the burden from her, if I could," he says.

"I know you would." She claps him gently on the shoulder. "And it is for that reason that I am glad you cannot. Do not tear yourself apart trying to lay an easy path that does not exist. She will need you, whole-minded and strong, for what is to come."

He draws a slow breath, and she can hear a slight tremble in the exhale. Ye gods, boy, you are so terribly young to face such trials, she thinks bitterly. I never knew love that did not have its touch of pain, but you have earned something bearing a less sharp edge.

But I am familiar with the sense, by now, of standing on history's cusp. Had she not had your guidance, I think Rakha would have a great deal more blood on her hands. And I think, perhaps, one day the strength of your heart will be seen to have saved the world.

"Thank you," he says softly.

She nods. "I am here when you need me," she answers. "And you will - of that I am certain. We have, all of us, a very long road ahead."

[blackjackkent]

For those who have been interested - assuming that the rumors are true and Patch 7 drops this week, my liveblog of Rakha's Dark Urge story will resume SATURDAY. :D

Pls reach appropriate levels of hype according to personal preference. XD

[blackjackkent]

Narrator: Tonight's troubled rest is, as ever, overwhelmed by your killing fate. You dangle above a dark precipice, one move away from falling.

Narrator: Another watches your body while it is possessed by the night. You do not dream alone.

The blinding pain and fear of the dream fades, and as Rakha slowly comes to consciousness, trembling with the revelation of who and what she is, she finds that she is not alone. This is not precisely a surprise; Wyll sometimes sits up with her as she sits tied up in her bedroll, shivering with restless nightmares. Lae'zel, too, often prowls at her bedside, watchful for any loss of control.

Tonight, though, it is Jaheira. The older woman sits calmly nearby. Both of her scimitars are out in her hands, rested across her lap, and she watches Rakha stir with calm attentiveness. Her pose is relaxed, but there is a tension in it like the coiled spring of the panther she can become, in the moment before it pounces.

"Dark dreams?" she asks neutrally as Rakha lifts her head.

(A/N: I'm so goddamn proud that I called out in this post that Jaheira had absolutely clocked Rakha's whole situation, because it set this up perfectly entirely by accident. XD )

Slowly and awkwardly, Rakha wrestles herself into a sitting position, watching the Harper guardedly. But Jaheira makes no move to attack, just continues to watch her intently.

"I think I can guess," she goes on, one eyebrow quirking up. "Visions of blood on your hands. The blood in your veins, perhaps."

Rakha goes utterly still. Her eyes widen, and for a moment, utter surprise replaces all the fear and agitation. You know what I am?

Jaheira's lips twitch in a slight, rueful smile. "For all the gifts Bhaal's children inherit," she murmurs, "a peaceful night's sleep is not among them."

(She remembers so many nights on the road. She remembers Caden's torment as he learned who he was, as it threatened to overwhelm him. She remembers many things Caden does not even know she saw.

The last days before their battle against Sarevok; Khalid's low murmur to her as they heard Caden weeping in his bunk. "S-s-should we go to him?" And her slight shake of the head, because what comfort could she possibly offer to that good, kind boy who had just learned there was murder in his soul?

The nights on the road to Dragonspear after Boarskyr Bridge, nights when Caden would wake with a low cry in fear of some monster that had found him in his dreams. She could sense shame in him in those moments, and never spoke to him of them until it was far too late to matter - but she and Khalid watched over him in the night, a comforting presence just out of view.

And the nights in Amn after Spellhold... the worst nights of all. Nights when her bed was cold with Khalid's absence and her thoughts in turmoil, and Caden's soul had been ripped out of him, leaving an empty shell behind in the form of her friend. Nights when he became a monster and had to be beaten into submission. Nights when her deep-set reserve at last failed her, overwhelmed by grief and exhaustion, and she would have welcomed her friend's comfort and to offer it in turn. But there was little left of him to hear her, almost swallowed up by the beast that haunted his mind, and Aerie haunted the bedside of his empty not-quite-corpse like a ghost.

She watches Rakha and sees traces of that same haunted darkness in her new companion's eyes. Caden eventually managed to slip the noose of his heritage and find peace in the forests of Faenya-Dail. She does not know if Rakha will have the strength to do the same - but she is older now, and she will not make the mistake this time of being silent.)

Rakha swallows. Her throat still feels dry and tight and resists speech, but she manages to croak out the question anyway. "How... could you possibly know?"

Her emotions are so tangled it is hard to put names to them. Relief, perhaps - for Jaheira is one of those she trusts most in the camp, and if Jaheira knows, perhaps she will know what to do. But there is also shame, guilt, terror; she feels exposed and frightened and lost. And angry, too.

How long have you known? Why didn't you tell me?

But Jaheira just shrugs. "I don't. Not yet."(*) She climbs slowly to her feet, her eyes never leaving Rakha's. The scimitars hang loosely in both her hands, their blades just skimming the hay-strewn ground. "The dreams alone do not concern me," she goes on after a slight pause. "It is what waking deeds they might inspire."

She peers at Rakha searchingly, her lips drawn into a tight line. "Are you truly your own master?" she asks - and her tone is a strange melding of gentle warmth and cold steel. "What is it you feel, when Father's dreams come calling?"

Rakha flinches. Father. She has never before had that word to put to the urges that drive her. She has not yet accustomed herself to it.

She wondered once - after learning of Shadowheart's past - if she herself had a father that she would drop everything to save. Now she knows the answer, and it makes her skin crawl. Her father is the source of everything that is wrong and broken about her. His influence sits in her head and drives her to kill.

"Helpless..." she mutters. The sense of shame deepens. Her head ducks, but she can feel Jaheira's eyes on her. "Like I can deny him nothing."

She can see the flicker out of the corner of her eye as Jaheira's blades twitch - but do not lift. "Then would you call it mercy," Jaheira says softly, "if the next night I never let you wake?"

Rakha says nothing - but they both know the answer. Yes.

Jaheira sighs, studying her for a long time - and then the blades move again. With a sharp movement, she steps to Rakha's side, flicks out one wrist... and severs the bindings on Rakha's hands.(**) "This is your father's true legacy," she says bitterly. "Not his children, but the fear they plant in us. The savagery it blossoms into."

Rakha draws her hands in front of her, rubs at the sore place on her wrists where the ropes chafed. Then she stands slowly and looks down at Jaheira; for a moment the two of them stare at each other, a long moment of unspoken understanding.

The half-elf is so much smaller than she is, but in this moment Rakha feels much the smaller, for she is acutely aware of the trust Jaheira is giving her... and the fact that Jaheira would end her in an instant if that trust proved misplaced.

"In another time," Jaheira says slowly, "with another of your kind, we found a better way. I would dearly like to find it again."

(Rakha is not Caden, no. She never will be. She did not have the benefit of Gorion's training; there is more of the animal darkness in her than Caden ever had, even in his worst moments. But Jaheira has seen her fight it, has seen the moments of softness in her with Wyll, has seen the strange sincerity with which she asks questions and searches for the right path. In spite of all her caution, Jaheira likes her. If there is a way that does not lead to her death, Jaheira will find it.)

"Tell me what I must do," Rakha whispers. Her voice sounds small in her own ears.

Perhaps Jaheira can hear how lost Rakha feels, because her expression softens a little with a slight, reassuring smile. "You would not be the first to turn the taint in your blood to your advantage," she says quietly. "But there are barriers a Bhaalspawn must overcome, first."

She hisses out a heavy breath between her teeth, her gaze going distant, looking past Rakha and through the wall behind her. "Those of your kind. Orin... I am sure you already know that so long as she lives, she will never stop hunting you."

(She remembers the Five. The Bhaalspawn under Amelyssan's direction who sought to obliterate all those who shared their tainted blood. They nearly succeeded; indeed, she thought they had. How do any remain? How does Rakha live, and Orin? How did Bhaal, dead god that he is, create yet more spawn to do his bloody work?)

She shakes her head sharply with a tight frown. "It might be that you have to turn and face her. You cannot change that. All you can choose is how you meet her - as another bloodied child of Bhaal, or as yourself."

She lifts her head and again meets Rakha's eyes, and the steady certainty in her expression meets Rakha's agitation and calms it like water over fire. "All *I* can offer is the promise that, should you choose to do so, you will not meet her alone."

She waits until Rakha nods. Then, in a single smooth motion, she sheathes both scimitars and sits down on a nearby haybale. "For now, take what rest you can," she says - and now there's an unmistakable gentleness in her tone that Rakha has never heard before. "I will watch over you this night."

Rakha tilts her head to one side, and something like black humor flickers through her eyes for a moment. "To watch over me?" she asks. "Or to protect against me?"

Jaheira's lips twitch with muted amusement. "I suppose you'll have your answer when you wake in the morning."

It's not much reassurance. But it's something. The dreams of blood still wait for her... but it's a comfort different even from Wyll's support to know that Jaheira's eyes are on her, that the Harper knows what she is and hasn't turned away.

She curls back into her bedroll, her hands free, her eyes twitching restlessly under their lids. And Jaheira, true to her word, waits and watches in the darkness, like a wolf on guard before its den.

----

(*) I looked at the dialogue files for this scene. This line appears to be bugged, bc in-game it got skipped, but I like it so I'm including it. XD

(**) Artistic license, obviously. All the references to Rakha being bound up at night are my particular headcanon.

[blackjackkent]

Entertained myself a little, thinking about what Lae'zel's reaction would be to Minthara arriving and immediately seeming to bond with Rakha right out of the gate. (Because Lae'zel is wonderful but very young and does not, thus far, have a history of handling her relationship with Rakha very smoothly.)

-----

“Welcome, istik,” Lae'zel says warily. She stops in front of Minthara's tent and squints at the drow as if she were an interesting zoo animal. 

“Ah. Yes. The gith,” Minthara says. She was in the process of examining her boots curiously to determine how they've fared in the months since Rakha stole them off her unconscious body. Now she looks up, eyes narrowed, and then stands, lurching with military sharpness into an attentive, waiting posture. “We have not been properly introduced.”

“Lae'zel of Crèche Kliir,” Lae'zel answers, a little too quickly. “I already know your name, Minthara Baenre, for I heard you whimpering it in the prison of the Absolute.”

Minthara stiffens. “You mock me. By what cause?” she asks coldly.

“Is it mocking to recite a fact?” Lae'zel asks. She shrugs. “You are one of us now, and you will find that we all carry scars of torment. You are not special, in this regard.”

A flash of mental connection. Images whirl between them of the alien zaith'isk construct, of Lae'zel's vision whiting out with a wave of agony. Minthara's head snaps back and she blinks rapidly. “I see,” she says.

Her eyes narrow as if reappraising the younger woman. “We have shared suffering, and I sense we share ferocity as well. Yet you come here with a blade in your tone. Do you fear my betrayal? Your leader and I have sworn a bond of allyship.”

“Rakha has given you her welcome, yes.” Lae'zel smiles, an expression that shows her pointed teeth. “But you are not her ras'til, her ally, not yet. Nor mine. That is a position those at her side have earned. It is not bought with words.”

Minthara raises one eyebrow slowly, analyzing the young gith's words and the weight behind them. Then she smiles faintly. “You speak possessively. Does Rakha know of your feelings for her?” 

Lae'zel flinches. “My feelings do not concern you.”

“Then you might do well to make something subtler of them.”

Lae'zel hisses softly. “I will not be told my business by one who has not traveled with us twelve hours.”

“You spoke to me first, Lae'zel of Crèche Kliir.” Minthara squints thoughtfully. “You need not fear my competition for her affection, child. The bond we share is one of broken minds and vengeance. Why do you not turn your ire towards the boy with whom she locked lips before retiring?” She jerks her head to indicate Wyll's tent. 

Lae'zel's skin flushes a deep olive. “There is no ire,” she mutters. “Rakha made her choice and I abide by it.”

Minthara's lips twitch. “I see. In Menzoberranzan, we would rarely see a woman capable of wielding word and blade, surrendering to a male with no fight.”

“You think me a weakling?” Lae'zel growls.

Minthara laughs. “I think you a young pup who has come to show her claws and assert her place in the pecking order. I am not without admiration for you, little one, based even on the little I have seen, but I care nothing for the schoolyard quarrel you wish to pick. It is based in fear and jealousy and it fits you ill. If you wish to hate me, hate me for cause or do not waste my time.”

Lae'zel studies her for a long moment in silence. When she speaks again, her tone is more subdued - but also resonates with deeper conviction. “Break the pact you have sworn to Rakha and I will break your neck.”

Minthara smiles. “Much better said, child. And I take you at your word.”

[blackjackkent]

Can't even open a chest by smashing it anymore.

Because of Sturdy.

[blackjackkent]

So the fight against the shadow waves is going well.

[blackjackkent]

OK, resuming the Rakha adventures in Rivington! We've finally sorted through the immediate reactions to the latest revelation about Rakha's heritage, so it's time to get out there in the world and Pretend Everything's Normal.

How you feeling about all this, Rakha?

Yeah, that tracks.

Quick pontifications on Rakha's mental state before pushing on here... realistically I don't think she is doing well at ALL at the moment. She's not usually overtly emotional and wouldn't know how to articulate exactly how she's feeling, but she's all of a sudden juggling a lot of very conflicting feelings.

She is, honestly, deeply relieved on some level to have learned exactly what is happening to her. She has a name to put to it and people around her who also know what that name is. This is a huge step forward in some ways.

On the other hand, the dark thing in her head is from a source far more powerful and terrifying than she had ever thought to imagine. She wants to stand against it but is suddenly far less sure that she's strong enough to do so even though she's managed it thus far.

She's deeply afraid that, in spite of his reassurances, Wyll will decide this is too much to have to deal with. (And, tbh, there's no way Wyll is as confident about it as he's acting; the boy is 26 and being faced with the knowledge that his girlfriend is the child of a death god and used to perform murder rituals for funsies before she lost her memory. No matter how wonderful Wyll is, that has to give him pause.)

She's absolutely imprinted on Jaheira like a baby bird in the wake of all these discoveries. Jaheira being there right at the moment where all the realizations happened, and being a calm steady presence with knowledge of exactly what Rakha is going through, was something she desperately needed. I think they spend a day or so in camp letting Rakha (and everyone else really) adjust to this discovery, and she spends the whole time restlessly moving between Wyll's tent and Jaheira's, not even really saying anything, just lurking nearby and making sure they're both still there.

I think her good relationship with Minthara is not going to last. The two of them bonded over their desire to destroy Ketheric, and Minthara's cold practicality meshes well with Rakha's attitudes in a lot of respects - but with the Bhaalspawn reveal it's suddenly become super clear that their fundamental goals are very incompatible in a way that might very well lead to a splintering, or even violence.

Her relationship with Lae'zel is in an incredibly weird state right now. Lae'zel hates that Rakha consumed the Astral Tadpole and allied with the Emperor willingly, but still cares about her and is very aware that Rakha needs all the support she can get right now. So it'll be interesting to see how that develops.

Generally speaking it just sort of feels like everything has gone upside down and sideways and Rakha's holding on by her fingernails. But... there's nothing she can do but try to keep going. The Chosen and the Absolute need to be dealt with in order to protect Wyll's city, and Orin needs to die if Rakha is going to survive.

So... come the next morning, she squares her shoulders, grits her teeth, and steps back out into Rivington.

On the bright side - whatever lies ahead, they're done with the circus, so there will probably not be any more clowns.

[blackjackkent]

Drabble dedicated to @rhysintherain (who suggested this headcanon) and @astreamofstars (who enthusiastically endorsed it when it was brought up weeks ago). XD

-----

Rakha watches Aylin and Isobel walk away, disappearing off into one of the Towers' many side rooms. Her thoughts are troubled, scattered. The battles here are won, but too much lies ahead...

"So we are to have the daughter of a goddess and her pet cleric for guests," Minthara says dryly. "Praise be. The honors heaped upon us never cease."

Rakha grunts. "They may have something useful to say," she says curtly. "We should hear it." Never mind that as long as Isobel is in camp, some part of Rakha's brain will always be growling with the dark urge to tear her apart...

She sighs and begins to trudge back towards the throne room.

Wyll smiles slightly, falling into step with her. "They're sweet together, though, aren't they?" he murmurs. "Nice to see something happy after... well... all of this."

"Yes," Rakha agrees quietly.

"Chk," says Lae'zel from Rakha's other side. Her eyes are hooded over with weariness and dark thoughts. "Selune's daughter and Ketheric's. A difficult match at best."

"Doesn't seem to have stopped them," Wyll says. "Hells - not even Isobel's death did." His smile fades. "I wonder what happened to her. A century past, right? It must have been around the time the curse rolled in."

"She died by violence," Rakha mutters. "The dog said that she--" She stops both in words and motion, coming to a halt in the middle of the corridor. Her head tips to one side and her gaze goes distant for a moment.

"What?" Wyll asks, looking at her with a flicker of concern. "What is it?"

Rakha doesn't answer, but breaks into a sudden jog towards the stairs.

-----

Ketheric's bedroom, it seems, has been relatively untouched by the fighting. There is no blood here, no fallen bodies. And the undead dog still paces the floor, her nails clicking rhythmically against the wooden planks.

"Squire," Rakha says quietly.

She no longer has a potion to speak with the dog, but it is clear that Squire recognizes her all the same. For a brief moment, the dog tenses, all its muscles visibly rippling - then relaxes as she sniffs the air and registers Rakha's scent. But she does not stop her pacing, patrolling the edge of the room with compulsive, anxious energy.

She guards her master's home. She does not know that he is dead, Rakha thinks with the flicker of a frown. She looks down at the door she's just opened, sees a chunk torn out of its inner wood. The dog tried to break free, to come fight at Ketheric's side, and failed. So now she waits here for him to come back, attentive, unceasing. Loyal.

Rakha thinks for a moment, then crouches down so her eyes are at the dog's height. "Squire," she says again, her voice unusually soft. It is easier to talk to animals that people, she has found. "It is over. He's gone."

No doubt, without the potion, the words mean nothing - and yet the steady rhythm of Squire's steps comes to an abrupt halt. The dog goes very still, turning to stare at Rakha with beady, intent eyes. A low, mournful whine sounds in her throat.

"Come with me," Rakha says. "Isobel is downstairs."

The whine cuts off into an upturned yelp like a question. The dog's ears go back. Her tail gives a cautious wag. She knows that name. Isobel.

"Come with me," Rakha repeats. Cautiously, she extends her hand the way Wyll taught her to do with Scratch, knuckles towards the creature's nose. For a long moment, neither of them moves.

Then Squire steps forward carefully and rests the side of her muzzle against Rakha's hand. And Rakha inexplicably feels a little of her own tension ease as she gently scratches under the dog's chin.

-----

Aylin has Isobel up against a wall when Rakha finds them again, though thankfully they're both still clothed. Rakha does, however, have to wait patiently for almost a minute before they break from a kiss to gasp for air.

"Aylin--" Isobel says breathlessly, nudging without much conviction at Aylin's shoulder. "We have-- company again..."

Aylin glances with utter disinterest over her shoulder at Rakha. "Did I not tell you," she says coolly, "that Dame Aylin and her mate had business that did not concern you?"

Rakha looks back at her, equally dispassionately. "I will be gone in a moment," she answers. "I have something for her." She jerks her head to indicate Isobel.

"Aylin, please," Isobel murmurs, stroking Aylin's jaw with her fingertips. "We have time now. We have time..." She disentangles herself from the aasimar's embrace, straightening her robe sheepishly, and gives Rakha a questioning look. "What is it?"

Rakha doesn't have time to answer. Hearing Isobel's voice, Squire blows past her at a full run, almost knocking Rakha off her feet in the process. The undead dog barrels towards Isobel, every muscle strained almost to snapping, and leaps up to plant her forelegs on the cleric's shoulders.

"Oof!" Isobel cries, almost toppling off balance. Aylin catches her with a hand at the small of her back and stares at the dog in abject surprise.

It takes Isobel a moment to figure out what's happening. Her pet, after all, once had fur and eyes that were not glassy and blank. But the eagerness of the greeting, the bony tail wagging like a whip, the low bark of excitement - Rakha can see the pieces clicking into place.

"Moonmaiden's mercy," Isobel whispers, sinking to her knees, placing both her hands on the dog's face. "Squire?"

Squire yips excitedly. All traces of the hardened guard dog seem gone for the moment. She bounces up and down, licking excitedly at Isobel's face with her dry tongue, her whole body wriggling with joy.

"Gods above... I thought you were dead too..." Tears fill Isobel's eyes and she throws her arms around Squire, hugging the squirming muscle-and-bone creature with all her strength.

Aylin stands next to her, resting a hand on her shoulder. Her eyes have remained fixed on Rakha, but her gaze softens slightly. "You do my Isobel a kindness," she says gruffly. "It will not be forgotten."

Rakha shrugs. As a gift, it seems a pale comparison to the compulsive thoughts of death she has harbored towards Isobel and Aylin both. It seemed natural rather than generous; she deserves no credit for it.

But she does smile, just a little, to see the way the dog's tail wags, reunited at last with the lost girl she died to protect.