#bjk plays BG3 Durge

[blackjackkent]

Trotted over to the bank to go ahead and quickly drop off Rakath's gold, and got this delightful banter between Minsc and Wyll:

I love them, your honor.

[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]

(tldr: read to end for my new favorite thing to have EVER happened because of RNG in this game, holy shit)

So. Yeah. When Orin said that Bhaal demands a duel, I was thinking the usual situation for "duels" in CRPGs, where it's nominally a duel but you're also allowed to bring your 2-4 closest friends who happen to be in the party with you.

AND BOY WOULD IT BE GREAT IF THAT WAS THE CASE HERE.

This is deeply not what I expected. I was actually low-key kind of excited for the standard Tav fight, because Rakha just hit level 12 and got the Spirit Guardians spell that I sank six levels of bard for, and I was real excited to see if they worked for buzz-sawing through the Sanctuary'd cultists.

No such luck, however. It's just us and Orin.

[slowly and carefully taps the reload button and examines Rakha's spell loadout]

There is actually some good news here too. I'm playing on easy so Orin's hit points aren't particularly terrifying, and far more significantly, she doesn't seem to have the buff from her cultist buddies, meaning she does not have stacks of Unstoppable and we can damage her immediately.

The downside is basically everything else. :P

Everyone else in the party currently has a condition called Duel: Murder's Chosen -

Very ominous. Even switching to any other character makes everyone get Big Mad:

At this point, the fight basically converts to normal, Orin recovers her Unstoppable stacks, the cultists start chanting, etc.

So I guess, ultimately, we could play this the Tav way if we wanted, but that seems counter to the spirit of the thing. XD Let's do this duel.

-----

POST FIGHT REPORT:

holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit

Y'all know how in tabletop games sometimes the RNG just plays out perfectly to do something never expected that nevertheless makes perfect story sense and feels like a brilliant thematic conclusion to everything that happened previously?

Rakha's fight with Orin started off pretty bog-standard. It's a pretty scary duel, but Rakha has her level 6 spiritual weapon out from the Harper Sacredstriker staff she's wielding, and it's doing a pretty good job of distracting and confusing Orin's AI and running her in and out of the Spirit Guardians that Rakha has up. She also landed a solid hit of Dethrone, "pulling on strands of the Weave" to "shred [Orin's] very essence."

All well and good.

Second round, she casts Misty Step to bring herself close to Orin for Burning Hands, and...

...well...

She wild-magic surged and unlocked Lae'zel's restraints on the altar.

Incredible. In-fucking-credible.

AND she is under our control as, basically, a summon for Rakha.

AND the Bhaalists don't consider this fight interference.

------

Perhaps it is simply random chance. It's happened before, after all - moments when her magic surged wildly out of her control, chaos incarnate to match the chaos in her brain.

But it feels like something more than that at this moment. A desperate reaching through the Weave in this moment of greatest need, her heart pounding with terror as she faces down her dark sibling. Jaheira and Minsc and Minthara and Wyll are beyond her reach, but something in her - mind or magic or something deeper still, some guidance from some force even Bhaal cannot stand against - reaches out and breaks the chains on her closest, oldest friend.

Help. Me.

The bonds break, and with them the enchantment that held Lae'zel unconscious. Her eyes snap open and she is on her feet in an instant, a sudden bursting release of tension and rage to match Rakha's own. For a moment their gazes lock, and Lae'zel blinks with recognition and astonishment and something like joy - and then her face hardens and she moves to stand at Rakha's side, shoulder to shoulder against the beast before them.

Her blade glints in the torchlight like sharpened flame.

[blackjackkent]

Astarion doesn't hesitate once the fight is complete. Still covered in the blood of the werewolf he just finished killing, bare-chested and battered, he hurls himself at the stone coffin into which Cazador retreated.

"No, no!" he roars. "No healing sleep for you! WAKE UP!"

Grabbing Cazador by the collar, he hurls him out onto the stone floor.

Cazador scrabbles backwards across the bloodstained platform, struggling to retain his disdainful expression around the fear suddenly in his eyes. "Get your hands off me, worm!" he spits.

Astarion towers over him, the master he has hated for so long finally brought low. "I'm not the one in the dirt," he snarls, like a kicked dog finally showing its teeth.

He reaches down, picks up a dagger that has fallen to the floor as Cazador was thrown across it. It's a strange blade, not like one Rakha has ever seen.

At its center, held within curving strips of polished metal, is a stake of wood. Wyll has told her of how vampires die; she can see the purpose of such a blade. That is not a weapon made for mortal men.

Astarion looks at it, then lifts it to point the tip at Cazador. It trembles almost imperceptibly in his grip. "One last thrust," he hisses - and his voice is trembling too. "And I'll be free of you. I'll never have to fear you again."

He swallows, then flicks his eyes to the staff on the ground at Cazador's side. "But if I finish the ritual you started... I'll never have to fear anyone. Ever." His eyes glow with manic, desperate hunger - and fear.

Cazador laughs hollowly. "You think me a fool?" he cries. "That I would allow anyone to usurp me, speak the words, and ascend in my place?!" He leans forward a little, headless of the sharp tip of the dagger pointing at him. "The runes I carved into your flesh bind you and all seven thousand souls to the ritual! Complete it, and those bearing the scars will be sacrificed - you included."

He pushes himself up on his knees, even now striking out against Astarion with word after word. "You are simply a means to an end! I made you to be consumed!"

Astarion's fingers tighten on the dagger's hilt. A muscle works violently in his jaw as he stares down at his unrepentant tormentor.

"I am so much more," he whispers, "than what you made me."

There's a long, strained pause. Then he looks up abruptly, fixing his eyes on Rakha. "Get over here," he snaps brusquely. "We can do this."

Rakha doesn't move, doesn't say anything for a long time.

She knows what Astarion wants her to do. She even, on some level, knows why he wants it. This ritual, whatever it fully entails, is the ultimate throwing off of the shackles that have held him for centuries. He wants to be free. He wants not to be afraid anymore.

He wants peace, just as Rakha wants it. But he wants to obtain it by accepting the darkest version of the monster that he has become.

The idea makes her skin crawl. She has stood on the same precipice as him, offered a gift that came with the selling of her soul. She wants to grab him by the shoulders, pull him away, out of reach, before it can swallow him.

"Didn't you hear him?" she asks hoarsely. "If you complete the ritual, you'll be consumed..."

Astarion barks a sharp laugh. "Trust me. I know what I'm doing."

Perhaps he does. So many times before, her friends have faced choices of this magnitude, and she has trusted to their judgment rather than her own. Shadowheart with her spear, and Lae'zel's stand against Vlaakith, and Wyll's choice of his future, and Gale with the Crown of Karsus. She has never believed that she might know better than them, and this hardly seems the time to start.

This is Astarion's choice, not hers.

Isn't it?

"All right," she mutters haltingly, one hand rapidly flexing into a fist at her side. "What... do you need?"

"I need your eyes," he says. His voice sounds hollow and exhausted - but brittle with determination. "In a manner of speaking."

"What do you think you are doing?" Cazador hisses.

"Unmaking what you made me," Astarion growls, his eyes not leaving Rakha. "Use the parasite," he tells her. "Link your mind to mine. Through your eyes, I can see the scars on my back and copy them onto his."

Cazador's eyes widen, showing the whites at their edges. "You... would not dare."

"I would," Astarion murmurs. "And I will. You will be consumed. And all the power you've lusted after will be mine!"

"And what then, Astarion?" Jaheira asks flatly at Rakha's side. "You would use this power born of so much death for *good*, I suppose?"

Astarion ignores her. His eyes have not left Rakha's, not even to blink. "Help me do this. Please."

Rakha hesitates. She can feel Jaheira's sardonic disapproval, and Wyll's gaze digging into the back of her neck. She senses Minsc vibrating with barely-restrained anger. Even Lae'zel seems somewhat disquieted, her fingers tapping restlessly against the hilt of her sword.

But it is... Astarion's choice. Not hers. Not anyone's....

Mechanically she takes a step forward, and then another.

Enter Astarion's mind so he can proceed with the ritual.

Narrator: Your minds join and your two selves become one. You can feel the knife in your hand, see the scars on his back, and taste his hunger for power.

The bitter, brutal emotion pours through her like a waterfall, like a burning flame. Rakha grunts with sudden pain, clutching at her temple, but Astarion's eyes go wide with exhilaration.

"Yes. Yes - I see it!" he hisses.

In a quick, smooth, harsh set of motions, he steps behind Cazador and rips the robe off of him, baring his back and shoving him to the floor.

And Cazador screams as Astarion, over and over and over, sinks the knife into his flesh and begins to carve.

(A/N: This is a truly unpleasant little sequence and goes on for quite some time before eventually fading to black to indicate that it goes on even longer.)

All sense of time fades out. For a while Rakha is conscious only of the screaming, and the blood, and the overwhelming sense of delighted rage flowing into her from Astarion's mind. She doesn't know how long she's been standing there when the connection finally breaks.

She comes back to herself standing at Astarion's side. He and Cazador are both soaked in blood. The others look on with expressions ranging from appalled to enraged.

"There," Astarion hisses. "Perfect."

"Ungrateful child," Cazador chokes out. Tears are streaming down his face, cutting lines through the red painting his cheeks. "Wretched child!"

Astarion just smiles. "Time to take your place!"

He lifts the staff from the ground, and it glows with blood-red power in his hands. With a jerk, he lifts Cazador from the ground and hurls him into the socket where Astarion himself was held only minutes earlier.

Everything begins to happen at once. Astarion slams the staff into the sigil at the center of the platform, and around Rakha the Weave seems to explode with that same red, writhing light. All around them, the suspended spawn begin to scream, their voices echoing and rebounding on each other and mixing with other screams from below and behind, from the seven thousand other souls prepared to burn for this ascension.

Rakha staggers with the intensity of it, the overwhelming wall of sound and light and pain.

Behind her, barely audible through the chaos, she can hear her companions begin to shout, unable any longer to hold themselves back.

"No!" Wyll cries. "What are you doing?"

"Enough!" shouts Minsc. "We can still stop the nonsense words in his mouth!"

"This isn't the way!" shouts Lae'zel. The three of them break into a run towards Astarion - but the wall of power around him rises to meet them, slaps them back like a physical blow.(*)

At Rakha's side, Jaheira reaches out and seizes her forearm with a sudden fierce grip. "Are we truly to be party to this?" she asks, her voice low enough to cut underneath the screaming around them.

Rakha has gone completely still. The magic is pounding at her like a creature with fists and claws, and the screams echo in her mind, resonating with the memories of a thousand other deaths at her hands in a life she does not remember.

It is Astarion's choice. She is a broken thing, with no right to believe she knows better on this or anything else.

And yet...

I am so much more than what you made me, Astarion said.

An image flashes through her mind, painful as the edge of a knife, of the last moments before her death in the Temple of Bhaal, another moment soaked in red light and blood. Her father's rage as she rejected his 'gift'.

You refuse me? You are my spawn! Your veins course with my unholy blood. Your life is mine!

You were made to conquer! To devour! You reject my blood, and so I will reclaim it!

I will make another who is worthy...

She opens her eyes and stares at Astarion's body, writhing in the grip of the gift he has stolen from his own monstrous 'father,' on the precipice of the oblivion she rejected. And she knows, suddenly, that wrong or right, she cannot let this go on.

This ends here, I said. It ends... here...

We are more than what they made us.

Stop Astarion.

With more instinct than thought, she hurls herself across the platform, lifting the knife with the stake at its core from the place where Astarion discarded it.

Astarion's head swivels to face her, and for a single instant his eyes widen as he recognizes what she is trying to do.

"What are you doing?" he cries over the screams around them. "No - stop!"

She does not stop.

She hurls the knife like a javelin into Cazador's chest.

Silence, abrupt and complete. The swirling power fades. The screaming stops. Cazador, pouring blood from the wound in his heart, slithers to the floor and lays still.

Astarion staggers, then collapses to his knees, letting the staff clatter onto the stone beside him. "It's... it's gone... All that power..." he whispers.

Rakha releases a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She is trembling all over, her eyes fixed not on Astarion but on Cazador's bloodsoaked body. In the moment of her attack, she was striking not just at him but at Bhaal as well - but Bhaal is not here, just the vampire who dies along with Astarion's hope for ascension.

"You don't need it," she mutters. "You're more than strong enough as you are."

We... are so much more than what they made us. Come with me. We will live, and be damned to them all.

But Astarion's head lifts and he stands and rounds on her, and there is no gratitude in his eyes, no hope. They are like burning coals set in the paleness of his face.

"Don't you tell me what I needed!" he snarls. He looks hollowed out, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. "I was so close - I could have had it all," he says with desperate, furious grief, stepping closer to her. "But you took everything from me!"

His voice lifts to a sudden scream of violent despair, and he grabs her by the collar of her robes, jerking her forward.(*)

The rage in his eyes shows no understanding of why she did what she did, or the similarity she sees between them, or the terrible things that have been done to them both. He needs an enemy, and he no longer has Cazador, and she is the only target that remains.

"Cazador won after all," he says - and his voice is suddenly soft again, hollow and mournful. "I'll never escape the hell he built."

And then his face goes hard for the last time, until it is nothing but steel and rage. "And if I can't escape... then no one can. Not them--"

He drops suddenly, lifts the staff, and without hesitation snaps it across his knee. The power still within it - the power that would have released the seven thousand trapped spawn - bursts in a sudden supernova around his hands... and then fades to nothing.

Through the fading, dying ripples of the Weave, he stares into Rakha's eyes, and if there was ever friendship between them, it's gone now, gone forever to the same place as all that power.

"And certainly not you," he growls. The pieces of the broken staff clatter to the ground, and his fingers close around Rakha's throat.

-----

(*) Artistic license in this whole bit. Only one companion actually speaks up here (in-game it was Minsc), and none of them actually do anything but watch. But I wanted to give everyone a little more activity, so I dug all four characters' lines out of the dialogue files.

(*) Also artistic license obviously.

[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]

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]

@rhysintherain and I had discussed the possibility that Minsc might encourage Rakha to find her own "hamster" to help provide her guidance and moral fortitude, and as I was doing Rakha's respec just now, it occurred to me that one of the spells she can take as a wizard is Find Familiar.

And one of the familiars summonable by a 2-level wizard is... a rat.

So yeah. Rakha has her own hamster now. XD

I will almost inevitably forget to mention it in the vast majority of cases, but it is there. I choose to believe:

it is a rat that Minsc and Boo fished out of the sewers for her

she names it Ash after its grey coat

it is very very good at skittering away in moments of danger and reappearing, seemingly from thin air, later

Wyll is NOT thrilled about its presence but doesn't object because Rakha seems pleased to have it

Rakha enjoys sitting with it and feeding it bits from her dinner and showing it little light cantrips

it never gives her any advice that she can discern but she remains hopeful

[blackjackkent]

OK there's several documents in Jaheira's house I didn't catch on the previous go-round and LOOK AT THIS ONE AHHHHHHHHHH

Minsc you beautiful wonderful man, this is cute as fuck, holy shitttttt.

This feels like the Rashemen version of sponsoring a rescue animal for your best friend's birthday. XD

[blackjackkent]

This is funnier than it has any right to be. XD

[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 my favorite new discoveries in this game is that when Minsc runs around with Boo summoned, local children gather around and comment about him. :D

They also comment about Ash when Rakha has him summoned.

I got curious so I went and looked in the dialogue files; these lines are contained in a file titled GEB_AD_KidCritter and opens with this synopsis:

Generic, A kid (goblin or non-goblin) sees a cute animal summon, or player shapeshifted into a cute animal. If a goblin, they will play this AD when throwing rocks at it. If a non-goblin, they will just move to it.

As the synopsis indicates, there are different dialogues for goblin and non-goblin children, and they're varied based on the type of animal/summon being addressed. (For the dialogue's purpose, Boo appears to be classified as a rat.)

Non-Goblin Children:

RAT Are rats safe to pet? I had a pet rat once. Well, a hamster. Its tail is weird. I want to touch it. Aww, it squeaks! Sorry, got no cheese. CAT Kitty! Aww… Oh, look at its little paws… I don't see a collar. Can I keep it? Come here, it's all right. Here, kitty… FROG Heh, it makes a funny sound. Hehe. Jumping everywhere looks fun. It's so ugly! I love it. Its eyes are pretty, Wish I could hop like that. RAVEN Ooh, look at its beak! Do birds like to be petted? I wish I had wings like that. Its feathers are so pretty. Wonder if it has babies somewhere. CRAB Wow, look at those claws! Are crabs like sea spiders? Or are spiders land crabs? I hear they're tasty. They don't look tasty. Wow. Imagine having that many legs. GENERIC Aww… it's cute - I think. Maybe it likes being petted. I want one! No, I want two! Aww! So cute!

Goblin Children

RAT What's this? A furry target! Look at those beady little eyes. Gonna take that thing's tail as a trophy. Squeaky little pest! Bet it's got diseases. CAT Hey kitty - catch! What's the matter? Don't want to play? Got a treat for you, puss! Hold still, puss! Got a treat for you! FROG Let's make you jump higher, slimy! Looks like snot on legs. Here's a rock for you, froggy! Eww, swamp snot. Looks like my baby brother. RAVEN You faster than a rock, birdy? Let's knock off some feathers. Let's hear you squawk, feather-brain! Ha! Take this! Your flying days are over! CRAB Look at that thing. Uglier than mum. I'll bet you're all squishy under that shell. Let's see you snap those pincers at a rock! Ha, stupid crab. Ugh, it smells! GENERIC Here, catch a rock! Let's hear you squeal! Who needs toys when I've rocks to throw. Ha! This'll be fun. Time to go squish!

[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]

Got a back-to-back set of mildly unhinged Lae'zel/Shadowheart banters as soon as we got them both in the same party.

First of all, the bug that has the game playing all the romanced character banters EXCEPT the ones with my actual romance partner continues unabated:

I'm amusing myself by taking these various conversations as canon even though it's clearly a bug, and trying to figure out who they would be talking about in this scenario.

In this case... I honestly intended for Rakha's playthrough to have an ongoing Shadowzel B-plot happening in the background, but that was before Rakha and Lae'zel slept together and Lae'zel caught feelings and their whole relationship got weird and complicated. :P But I really want to interpret this conversation as meaning that Lae'zel is finally starting to get over her crush on Rakha and focus on valuing her friendship, that she and Shadowheart are now sleeping together instead, and that this conversation is an extraordinarily transparent attempt to pretend it's not happening. :P

That banter popped immediately before talking to Ferg Drogher. Immediately AFTERWARDS, another banter popped instantly:

LOL.

I feel like it bears noting that we are NOWHERE near the beach at this point. We're in the middle of the Rivington refugee camp. What in gods' name brought this to mind for you right NOW, Lae'zel? :P

[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!"

"..."