#but that she's around if jaheira ever needs help! with anything!

[jennycalendar]

a deeply feeling woman

this is NOT going up on ao3 (yet?) because it is quite short and i have not decided whether i'm willing to upend like. all of my own established unpublished canon to canonize this nonsense. but the idea hit me today and so now it's written. in which: khalid makes a new friend :) she's a dwarf. they have something very crucial in common.

“Oh!” said Khalid, eyes abruptly alight. “Briar, if you—th-that is, while you, you’re considering the, the best course of action, I…Jaheira, I’d like you to meet…” He squinted nervously around the small, crowded room. “That’s…odd,” he said slowly. “She’s…where did she go?”

“She?” said Jaheira, a slight edge to her voice. “Have you been making friends, Khalid?”

Khalid’s smile softened into a touched, knowing expression. He said, “You’ll, you’ll meet her. It will…clarify things tremendously.”

“Oh, I’m sure it will,” said Jaheira, her tone dropping dangerously.

“There!” said Khalid, and gestured. A stocky dwarven woman appeared to be having some sort of argument with a young human soldier, who, in turn, appeared to be unsuccessfully attempting to back away. “Thea—Thea,” he called. “Would you—that is—?”

Without turning away, Thea said, “Give me a minute, sunshine, this fucking imbecile thinks he can cheat people out of their rightful winnings! Listen, Brathos, you start the game, you lose the game, you turn the coin over at the end of the game, especially when the rest of us catch you trying to fucking rig the game. Fuck’s wrong with you that you think you’re not going to face any consequences? You know what I call my hammer, Brathos?”

“Consequences?” squeaked the boy.

“Consequences,” growled Thea.

“Oh, my,” said Safana, brows raised. “Khalid, do you have a type?”

Entirely ignoring his wife’s scathing expression, Khalid laughed out loud. He pressed his hand to his face and shook his head. “You’ll, you’ll understand when you meet her,” he said. “Thea—Althea. W-w-would you please come over here and, and meet my friends?”

“What friends?” said Thea, turning all the way towards him. “You’ve not got friends. Actually fucking depressing, the state of your social life.”

“You’re my friend,” Khalid countered.

“I repeat.” Thea hefted the hammer. “Actually fucking depressing.”

Edging herself in front of Khalid, Jaheira took in the other woman with a sharply assessing expression. “So,” she said. “My husband has been socializing with you in my absence?”

All the rock-hard irritation of Thea dropped away as her eyes met Jaheira’s. It reminded Briar of quite a lot of songs, which probably wasn’t the thing to be thinking in a moment where Jaheira was meeting some friend of Khalid’s she was already jealous of, but it was sort of hard to think anything else. Thea’s lips parted, her cheeks coloring, and she whispered something under her breath in Dwarvish that sounded almost like a prayer, then breathed, “Luckmaiden, Lady of the Fray, in all your glory, I beseech you, loosen your hold on my heart.”

“…What?” said Jaheira.

Khalid looked positively delighted. “Althea,” he said, “Jaheira. Jaheira, Althea.”

Thea reeled back. “Your wife?” she said to Khalid. Then again, as if confirming, “Your wife.” Finally, “You sadistic motherfucker, I don’t know how you knew but I know you knew I’d—ah, fuck, fuck, I’m going to go end the siege. Can’t be in close quarters like this,” and promptly turned on her heel, all but sprinting for the exit.

“She’s going to what?” said Jaheira.

“Oh, that. Ah. Backfired faster than I thought,” said Khalid, already moving after Thea. “I-I need to sort that out. Briar, would you—”

“Sort what out?” demanded Jaheira, particularly dangerously.

Khalid took in Jaheira’s expressions. He said, calmly, “Thea. Prefers. Women.”

“Pref—” The penny dropped. Jaheira’s face went flaming red.

“Goodbye,” said Khalid, squeezing Jaheira’s shoulder, and darted after his friend.

As soon as Khalid was gone, Briar fell into a fit of giggles. Dynaheir was covering her mouth delicately, but the smile was eminently visible.

“Oh, would you all SHUT UP?!” snapped Jaheira, her blush intensifying. “What was I supposed to think? Khalid is hardly a social person when not in my company, hardly with women—”

“Well, it seems like maybe he found someone who has something really super crucial in common with him!” Briar wheezed. “Like, oh, I don’t know, being really super into you?”

“He didn’t—I didn’t—I have never met—stop laughing, Briar, or I will stop letting you carry the wands of lightning!”

“I haven’t used them,” said Briar, then, “since the incident.”

“What incident?!”

Khalid returned, now with Thea in tow. “Althea,” he said, “l-let’s try that again, yes?”

“Nope,” said Thea, who was already trying to leave.

Jaheira’s eyes darted between Thea and Khalid, almost contemplative, before her blush returned and her scowl intensified. Firmly, she said, “Khalid, you should have opened with the fact that Althea prefers the fairer sex, rather than letting me humiliate myself into thinking—”

“Oh, please!” said Thea hysterically. “You’re hardly the one who’s humiliating yourself here! Khalid, let go of my arm, I’m ending the siege and I’m going home.”

“You, you haven’t even exchanged a, a proper conversation with Jaheira.”

“I am going to say something proper fucking insane to your wife if you let me talk to her,” said Thea, “and you are, no question, the only person I can stand round here. Not burning that bridge. Look, I can end the siege—”

“You ha-have been saying that since you arrived,” said Khalid, “and your only plan appears to be to—to—run at the troops with your hammer.”

“Worked before.”

“Worked bef—” Khalid sent Jaheira a help-me look that somehow also managed to convey quite a lot of irritation.

Jaheira, whose cheeks had finally begun to edge back towards a normal color, rested her hand on Thea’s shoulder. Thea froze. “I would appreciate the chance to get to know you,” said Jaheira, tilting her head and smiling at Thea with an expression of terrifying sweetness. “Properly.”

“Oh, fuck you,” said Thea. “Emotional fucking manipulation, the pair of you. See if I tell Khalid anything again.”

“What did you tell my husband?”

“None of your fucking business!”

Casually, Khalid said, “She—she mentioned a particular weakness for a-assertive, forthright elven women.”

“Fuck off!”

“Well, it does help to have it on the table,” said Jaheira. She actually did smile. “Am I that bewitching, then, that you are desperate to run from me rather than jeopardize your friendship with my husband?”

“Your husband’s the only one round here with integrity,” said Thea resolutely. “Certainly the only one round here I’d trust to keep an eye on things. The other fuckers keep talking big talk about pummeling the crusaders into submission with forces we don’t have; he’s the one looking for a way around that. Good that you and your crew found a way in—if we can get more of you, piece by piece, we might stand a chance. Course we’d stand an even better chance if we went with my plan—”

In a tone of voice that suggested he had said this quite a few times before, Khalid said, “You running in to single-h-handedly dispatch crusaders is n-not a plan, Althea.”

“That’s the one thing he’s wrong about,” said Thea to Jaheira. “But the rest of it he’s right about. Rare to find a fella like that in a line of work like this.”

Jaheira’s eyes had taken on an approving glint. “I agree.”

Thea exhaled, blushing slightly, and said, “Yeah, so. Mind letting go of me? I do mean it, I’m going to say something—fucking outrageous if I keep looking at you, and I can’t do with losing my only friend here.”

Jaheira smiled. "Outrageous? Like what?"

“You aren’t helping.” Khalid steered Jaheira away from Thea. Over his shoulder, he called, “Drinks tonight?”

“On you!” Thea called. “To fucking apologize for putting me through that!”

To Jaheira, Khalid said, “I, I really didn’t realize she’d—that is, she’s a very, ah, d-deeply feeling woman, but I didn’t expect—well.” He smiled ruefully. “I, I was much the same when I met you. Sh-should have considered she might feel sim—similarly.”

“I like her,” Jaheira decided. Her brow furrowed. “Will she derive false hope from that? I do not wish to be inconsiderate, if—”

“Oh, she—she won’t,” said Khalid. “She’s—” His smile softened. “Chivalrous,” he said. “Noble.”

Noble, Dynaheir mouthed to herself. Briar was the only one who caught it.

[sserpente]

After

Synopsis: You help Astarion wash off the blood after he kills Cazador. He doesn’t say much—but you can tell he needs you now more than ever.

A/N: I thought of this the other day and I almost cried. So I wrote it so that you can almost cry as well.

Words: 897

Warnings: trauma responses, fluff

Astarion was being unusually quiet, his movements robotic and too automatic as if he was somewhere else entirely in his mind. And he was. You couldn’t blame him. He had his own demons to deal with after what you had just witnessed.

His hand was still clutching the dagger so tightly his knuckles turned white. But not even the blood stains on his bare skin could manage to disfigure him. He was as beautiful as ever despite the streams of tears drying on his cheeks.

You’d wrapped your cloak around him after he announced he wanted to get out of there, eager to respect his wish. There was nothing left for him here. It was over. Now all he had to do was to heal, slowly, from the trauma the past two hundred years had caused him.

Both Shadowheart and Gale had offered to help calm him down with magic but Astarion had been quick to decline. It was dark outside by the time you left the palace—a welcome circumstance. Though it was not uncommon for citizens to roam the city drenched in blood every now and then, you were certain Astarion was grateful for the absence of curious and suspicious looks as you made your way back to the Elfsong Tavern.

It wasn’t just Cazador’s death of course. He’d turned it all down. The ability to walk in the sun, the powers Ascension would have granted him… Now he’d return to the shadows. But he wouldn’t do it alone, that you were going to make sure of. He had you.

He was still silent by the time you returned to your room upstairs. Whoever had decided to stay behind today—Lae’zel, Wyll, Jaheira, Halsin and Minsc—their eyes all went wide the moment they laid their eyes on the blood-drenched vampire spawn.

The questions were burning on their tongues, you could tell. But they held back. You cleared your throat.

“Would you guys mind… leaving us for a bit? Join the others downstairs for a drink maybe?”

“Understood,” Jaheira said. She waved her hand and nodded, compassion glistening in her wise eyes. “Take your time.”

“Astarion…” Minsc pushed Jaheira out of the way, earning him a groan. “Is… is Cazador dead?”

“Yes, he’s dead, Minsc,” you answered for him. Jaheira grabbed his arm and dragged him along with her before he could say something else. Wyll, Lae’zel and Halsin followed suit.

“Let me know if you need anything,” the latter announced. A few heartbeats later, you were alone.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, love.” Your voice was barely a whisper but Astarion heard you nonetheless. He nodded and finally allowed you to peel the dagger from his grasp. You set it aside on a table and lead him to the washtub in the corner of the room.

The cloak slipped from his shoulders, sailing to the wooden floor. He made no move to pick it up, no move to help you as you filled the tub with warm water. In fact, you weren’t sure he even saw you do it. But when you moved away to get him a fresh towel for later, you heard him.

“Don’t leave,” he said softly. Your eyes darted back to him, taking in the vulnerability and helplessness surrounding him like cold mist.

“I won’t. Ever. I was just gonna get you a towel.”

“Don’t leave,” he repeated.

The chest with your things was just around the corner, still, you opted against it. You forced the corners of your lips up and nodded, returning back to his side.

He didn’t protest when you removed his bloodied trousers and had him step out of them, didn’t resist when you made him climb into the tub and eventually, undressed yourself and reached for a sponge and soap before joining him.

Silence filled the room, water dripping as you dunked the sponge in. His sigh the moment it touched his cool skin was heartbreaking.

Inch by inch, you washed off the blood, pressing feather-light kisses to his chest and his face every now and then. Once you were done and the very last traces of Cazador had vanished, you cupped his cheeks, gently forcing him to look you in the eye.

“Are you gonna be okay?”

Astarion nodded. “I just need…time.” To process. To decompress, to let everything that happened today sink in.

You nodded. “I’ll be here. I’ll always be here, Astarion. I am so proud of you. What you did today…that was the bravest thing I have ever witnessed. You didn’t have to do it and it wouldn’t have made you any less brave if you hadn’t faced him. But you did. I love you. And I will do anything in my power to help you through this, whatever you might need.”

The vampire smiled—it was a weak smile, and it didn’t quite reach his eyes. But it was sincere nonetheless.

“Thank you, my love. Thank you.”

You remained in the bath until the water was cold. After tiptoeing over to the clothing chest naked to finally retrieve the towels to dry off, you cuddled up in bed together, your limbs entangled and his face pressed against your neck. His breath evened surprisingly fast as he slipped into trance and you too closed your eyes, holding on to him tightly until you were certain he had found peace for tonight.

[thehistoriccemetery]

How They Would React to Seeing Your Abusive Parent

Another drabble about everyone’s favorite BG3 ladies: Shadowheart, Karlach, Minthara, and Jaheira. (Sorry Lae’zel simps, I really couldn’t think of her reaction here. If anyone has one please feel free to repost with your own headcannon!)

CW: Past abuse

If anyone has any ideas for more of these, PLEASE comment or send in a request. I’m running out of ideas so fast.

——————————————————————

Shadowheart

Shadowheart was just a kid when she was abducted by the Sharrans. So she understands what it’s like to have such hatred and fear for someone who you can’t help but care about.

She lets you take the lead entirely. If you want to leave, she’ll make an exit. If you want to stay, she’s right beside you. Hells, if you want to see their head roll, her weapon is at the ready.

She doesn’t usually allow for public displays of affection, but she’d wrap you in her arms and carry you if it was what you needed right now. You’ll settle for squeezing her hand when you’re feeling particularly nervous.

She only steps in when your parent moves to approach you. You are trembling, and you squeeze her hand frantically. This is her cue.

Before they can get within 10 feet of you, Shadowheart is in front of you. Four spirits dance around the two of you, guarding you from anyone who dares inch closer.

It is not a threat but a warning. Your parent throws up their hands in understanding. They will not try anything else.

Karlach

It takes everything in her to not just fly into a rage on the spot, but when she looks at you and she sees only fear, she stays calm. You need her under control, so that is what she will be.

When you first told her about everything your parent had done she had asked if you wanted them dead. She was honestly a little disappointed when you said no, but she understood. She would respect your wishes. Your parent could stay alive, for now.

“But I swear on all seven hells if they ever touch you again…”

Karlach stands between you and your parent, not even let them so much as look at you. She pulls the most intimidating stance she can muster. Demonsbane. She could send hells’ mightiest soldiers away with that look.

She keeps a hand on her weapon. Her tail wrapped protectively around you. No one is to so much as lay a hand on you, or they will truly understand what the fury of Avernus means.

Minthara

When you told Minthara about your parent, she asked if you wanted her to kill them. You said if they were to die, then you needed to be the one to kill them. They were your responsibility. It felt cowardly to send in someone in your place.

Still you didn’t want to kill them. The thought made you sick. Parenticide. A burden you would have to carry forever.

Minthara tells you that in drow culture it is considered an honor for a parent to be killed by their child. “They deserve to die with no such honor,” she bites.

“Vengeance can be a bitter pill for such a kind soul,” she told you. “Whatever you cannot bear, I will take from you.”

So it’s not particularly surprising to anyone when you find out your parent is dead under mysterious circumstances.

You do not ask if it was her. She does not tell you. This will not be your burden.

Jaheira

You instinctively gasp and grab at Jaheira’s wrist when you see them. “Stand tall, cub,” she whispers into your ear. “I am with you.”

She rest a hand on your shoulder. She stands right behind you. She is with you. She will not let anything happen to you, but she will not interfere until necessary. She trusts you. You’ve got this.

You’ve always seen her calling you cub as a simple pet name, not so dissimilar to how the elderly innkeep calls everyone honey. Now the name takes on a new meaning. You may be vulnerable, seem like an easy target, but you’ve got a mama bear behind you. And she will fuck up anyone who threatens you.

You find power in her words. No one will hurt you. You feel strong.

[mylordshesacactus]

I had the realization a while back that Isobel, who was dead for a hundred years, would have been around in Jaheira's heyday and almost certainly knows who she is.

And then the significantly funnier realization that, like.

POV: You are Isobel Thorm. You don't fully remember how you died, but you remember languishing in timeless darkness. You are ripped from the grave gasping and shaking, surrounded by darkness and obscene symbols and the desecrated remains of your ancestors. Your father, warped and corrupted, is acting deranged and horrifyingly possessive of you, and almost sounds pleased to tell you that your wife--your true immortal wife, your wife the unkillable demigod--is dead.

You flee in terror into a world that is a twisted mockery of the town you grew up in and loved. Twisted oily shadows lash at your body and soul and only the faint echo of the moon goddess' power sustains you as you race unseeing through the eternal darkness, sickened by a core of necromantic energy that you (as a cleric) can constantly sense but can do nothing to purge.

Unable to run any further you find the ruins of what was once an inn and collapse there. Your goddess reaches out to you, despite your conviction that your resurrection must make you disgusting in her eyes. You create a sanctuary and pray for help to come. While digging around in the inn, you find records and papers with confusing dates, and begin to realize that far more time has passed than you initially thought. But with no one alive to explain anything--and, now, an overwhelming paranoia telling you that it would not be wise to be known as Ketheric Thorm's daughter to friend or foe--you're going to need to be very circumspect if you ever intend to figure out the details.

A group of Harpers arrive. Their leader introduces herself as Jaheira, a name you know very well from while you were alive.

Isobel: Jaheira: Isobel, Who Lives In A World That Contains Both Elves And Archdruids: Well that tells me absolutely fuCKING NOTHING--

[madwomansapologist]

doubt comes in | bg3 companions

Meet Kind!Druid!Tav | More Weirdos | AO3

synopsis: You knew exactly what would welcome you back to camp. The alluring smell of Gale's cooking, the awful noises of Lae'zel working on a sword that don't need to be sharpened, Wyll practicing his dance moves. You clearly weren't expecting to see yourself. Or to be forced into fighting the companions you swore to never harm in order to prove Orin was playing with their minds. [3.4K]

warnings: orin being orin. well, you, actually. "prove who's the real you" trope. i mean imagine the level of anxiety that scenario induces because you want me to act like me? kitten, mommy don't fucking know who she is. bg3 level of violence. a lot of blood. body horror should be a tag? tav suffers slashing damage, but orin suffers psychic damage. angst. happy ending. shadowheart x tav x halsin. companions (lae'zel, astarion, gale, wyll, karlach, jaheira, minsc). camp followers (yenna, scratch, grub). background (orin, gortash, mizora, shar, cazador, silvanus).

Reaching Baldur's Gate didn't made life easier, but Gods did it helped. Danger is near, sometimes closer than a kiss, but this city is still your home. They can try, but no one can take that away from any of you.

Mizora can bargain and dissemble, but no lie coming from her burning lips will ever change the fact Wyll would do anything for this city. He had his first kiss in one of those bars. Gortash is a threat, but did he started counting his days? Karlach is coming for him, and he had it coming. She can still remember the vinegar taste on her mouth after her first spree.

Shar had her time to mess with Shadowheart's memories, to turn goodness into fear and desires into guilty. Shadowheart is learning how to swin. Long ago, before Cazador could even think of looking at him, Astarion walked on those streets. Cazador can see him as a walking corpse if he so desire, something that fell into decay, but Astarion is alive and free forever and evermore.

The world is a freaking mess, but so be it. That won't stop you from living. That won't stop any of you.

"Soldier! Over here," Karlach called for you, up on The Blushing Mermaid's balcony. You dodged the drunkards and ran upstairs to their table. They saved a seat for you. They always do. "What took you so long?"

They're always teasing you for being so controlling with their gold. That was an act of survival, to save for what matters, but now that you reached the city... You're still controlling it, Silvanus knows Astarion would waste it all without noticing, but you can allow your party some luxury from time to time.

You put the bags under the table, careful to not let them see what was inside them. "Just lost track of time," you sat between her and Minsc. "Did I miss much?"

You turned around, looking for a waiter, but a glass was dragged from across the table towards you. Halsin, sitting across from you at the round table, had already ordered your favorite drink. He always knows what you want even before you say it.

Your smile was subtle, the glass already rising to hide your mouth. You didn't use words to thank him, but your foot met his under the table. You dragged it along his leg, a hidden affection. A secret between you two.

"Oh, yes, Boo. Minsc agrees, her smile really seens different," Minsc whispered. Boo moved on his shoulder, sniffing around. "What are you hiding, my gentle friend?"

Perfume of night orchids, clothes fit for a vampire or whatever Astarion means by that, a recently released tome of evocation, instruments to improve weapons, a music box for a dancing hero, owlbear cub plush, new whittling knifes, a book about adventures Jaheira wasn't part of but is still somehow the main character, and stone sculpture of a certain miniature giant space hamster. "Nothing," you answered.

Halsin chuckled. "There is nothing you can't do, my heart. Except by lying, I must add."

"I just bought a few presents," it sounded almost defensive. Alright, maybe you really were a bit too controlling of the gold. Just a bit. "I'll give them after dinner."

Karlach chocked on her beer. "Are you feeling well, soldier? Have anyone forced you to waste your precious gold?"

"There is a hero coming through to help you, my friend," Minsc hit the table with closed fists. Your drink almost fell on your lap. "Tell Minsc who forced you and his boot shall find your wrongdoer!"

Karlach and Minsc tried to see what were in the bags during the walk back to camp, and you protected them with your life. They started a game of guessing what you had bought, never realizing you weren't participating on it.

Halsin took the bags from you, and with his free hand caressed yours. He kissed your knuckles, then your forehead. You melted against his touch. "Is it duck related?"

You chuckled, eyes still closed. "Fuck off, Bear."

Finally at camp, Halsin followed you to your tent .You saw when Wyll walking out of his tent, hair dripping wet, and smiled at him. Karlach and Minsc sat by the bonfire, still arguing about the possibility of receiving an ax as a gift.

You told Halsin to close his eyes so you could hide everything. "Alright, done."

You walked towards the bonfire, but Halsin grabbed your hand and pulled you closer. You linked your arms around his neck, ready to stand on tiptoe. "It's on your black chest, isn't it?"

You sighed, walking away from him. He tried to stop you, but you dodged Halsin easily. "Of course not," you lied. And he could tell.

You used a branch to stir the fire. You had the feeling it would be a cold night. Yenna was near it, stroking Grub's fur, and smiled at you. So young, so innocent. So unfair.

Lae'zel and Jaheira carried pans with food to the large table Gale conjured, and nodded on your direction. "Fifteen minutes, cub," said Jaheira. "Weren't you on watch?"

You denied with a movement of your head. Jaheira isn't the one to get confused with watches, neither are you. After all, you both organized all shifts.

"Are you hungry?" You stroke Yenna's hair, ignoring Grub in order to not scare him away. Kneeled in front of her, you threw the branch far away. Scratch ran to catch it. "I have strawberry and hon..."

"What the fuck is that?!"

You turned to Karlach, your sword suddenly so heavy on your side. She looked perfectly fine. Following her gaze, you understood it.

Shadowheart had her spear on hands, back from first watch to supper. And besides her, with a hand on the half-elf's waist, stood you.

One thing you can't deny Orin: that bitch is creative. You admit, it was smart. Half of the party left with you, half stayed at camp. It was only a matter of chosing the right moment to appear, making sure to say only the right words, and everything would work on her favor.

Smart, until she wasn't anymore. Because instead of aiming your companions quietly without raising doubts, you are back now. She is surrounded by the enemy. Cornered by her own actions.

You smiled to Yenna, her scared eyes shone upon you. "I need you to close your eyes. Can you do that for me?" As she put her tiny hands in front of her face, you raised from the floor. The smile was still there. "Orin."

She was behind you, but you knew Karlach made Nyrulna find a way to her hands. He's not on your vision field, but you promise Silvanus you'll kill yourself right then and there if Minsc and Boo aren't ready to fight and die beside you. The golden light on your periphery in theory could be from anything, but you knew it was Halsin waiting for your command to transform and attack.

The things you couldn't see didn't surprised you. Quite the opposite.

Jaheira's eyes shone, and without hesitation she turned into a fire myrmidion. Wyll, before careless, casted an armor on himself. Lae'zel had her sword on her back, but her movements showed she was nothing but ready.

They were looking at you.

As easy as that you understood. You're always thinking on the great scheme of things, careful about every movement and choice so at the end nothing will stop you from defeating the Absolute, but this isn't a game of Go. Orin didn't proposed a bet, one where all moves matter and any choice could change the final outcome. No. This is as simple as tic-tac-toe. The results depends only on doing the right first movement.

Orin isn't surrounded here.

You are.

Shadowheart hesitated, the spear uncomfortable on her hands, her skin paler. She gazed at you, at that thing, and you could almost see the doubt replacing the new found glow in her eyes.

"You finally decided to show up again," Orin said. She could immitate your voice perfectly. Even the words were something that could've been said by you. "Now we don't need to hunt you down."

You kept on staring at Shadowheart, ignoring her stained words. "Lua, you know who I truly am." You drew your sword, the golden glow illuminating your face within the light of the setting sun. "Fight beside me, my love. Like you have always done."

"Don't fall for her theatrics," replied Orin. If you didn't knew better, even you would fall for her tricks. "She is playing with your mind. Trying to control it like many attempt to before. Don't allow it."

In a quick motion, her spear cut through Orin's torso. Orin, you, stumbled back. You stood in front of Shadowheart, protecting her with your body from the changeling's response.

All Orin did was to add pressure to the cut. "Get away from her!" A necrotic energy came from her fingers, the same you are so used to control. You shouldn't have left your shield on your tent. "My love, she'll only hurt you."

Jaheira aimed at you, lava dripping from her transformed hand, but didn't attack because of how close Shadowheart was of you. Karlach got further away, now with a better view of camp. Minsc had his sword in hands, just as Wyll had a cloud of darkness aiming at him. Lae'zel was in front of Orin, eyes filled with determination.

They moved faster than you wanted to. The board getting new possibilities, and you worst problems to deal with. What strategy can overpower hers?

"On sight, soldier," Karlach screamed from distance. You could picture the spear on her hands, ready to be throw right in Orin's eyes. "One word."

"Ckh. Enough," ordered Lae'zel. "Pull yourself together before I pull you apart."

"That changeling is playing tricks with your mind, Lae'zel," said Shadowheart. Light came from her fingers. "Don't let her fool you."

"I know my leader," was her response. "You should know too, cleric."

"Can't any of you see her true goal?" Your voice echoed through the camp. "She isn't just trying to end me. She could've done this before, we all now she had chances. Orin wants you to fight one another, to break our bonds and divide us. Stay still, stay alert, and she won't have a choice but to end her disguise and attack with her own claws. Patience: that's the only thing she does not have."

With the noise, Gale and Astarion came out of the kitchen. "Who is..." Astarion didn't even had time to finish.

"It's me," you yelled. You had even forgot about them. Just more players for a game that should be won alone. "For Silvanus, I even said goodbye to each and every of you befo..."

You swear you saw a smirk on your duel's face. She fooled you too. "You fucking bitch."

You barely had closed your mouth when red strings of energy passed right beside you. Shadowheart's illuminated fingers were surrounded by darkness now. Gale's work, you knew.

"She is right," Lae'zel's words made you breath easier. It was more than just a smart move, it was a great plan, but Orin won't suceed for a very simple reason: her main goal is to hurt, and yours is to prevent it. Lae'zel stepped closer, her longsword in hands and eyes on Orin. "The wizard shouldn't have aimed at the Shadowheart, neither was she supposed to fight."

A sign of trust coming from her of all people could convince them all. Lae'zel cares, deeply, and wouldn't do something without being sure of it. You glared at the others, hoping Lae'zel's words had calmed them down. And it did. Their eyes were softer towards you. But those weren't the eyes you should've been watching closely.

You didn't saw when she moved. Didn't noticed the smell of danger floating on the air so near you. Didn't heard anything that would've warned you to defend yourself.

But you felt as Lae'zel rip your chest apart.

So much blood. You never would've guessed a mortal vessel could carry so much blood. It stained the silver, dripping from the longsword, splashed her face. It ran down your body, penetrated the ground and its roots, fed the plants..

Red. It was all you could see. All you could think about. Your lungs only had space for it. They burned. Your trembling hands moved towards your ripped belly, your insides staining them, and held the sword. It cut your palms.

"Bloodlust won't solve our problems," someone said. You knew that voice. Was it yours? Lae'zel forced the sword down, then pulled it out of you. "The changeling's is all we need to spill."

You were on your knees. Did you fell? Were you kicked? Are you praying? You must be. You probably were. Who do you pray to? Have you ever prayed before?

Kneeled beside you, a woman talked to you. Her mouth moved, a red liquid dripping from her face and hands. Her touch was warm. She felt like home. Shadowheart. Her eyes reflected a golden light, but they dissapeared so quickly.

"Let me go!" She tried to fight Lae'zel's hold, but the warrior was stronger. "She'll die because of you. She'll die and I will never ever forgive you for that, you damned gith!" The screams turned into cries. "She saved me, let me save her!"

"It's me," the doppelgander said. She held Shadowheart by the cheeks, trying to get her to calm down. "Lua, love, it's me. Just me."

"Get out of me," Shadowheart spat on her face. Lae'zel pushed her away, trying to prevent Shadowheart from doing something she would regret. "Why no one here listen to me?!"

"Stop squirming," Lae'zel hissed. "Look into her eyes. Look and tell me you don't see our leader."

Shadowheart eventually stopped fighting, her body exausted from crying. The changeling was in front of her, you were in front of her. She smelled like you. Talked like you. Felt like you.

"Is that really you?"

"Of course it's me," lied Orin. "Please, look into my eyes. We were together all day. You know I haven't left camp. Please, please, trust me."

Spikes grew, surrounding Orin. She hissed, the ivy twining around her legs and tearing the skin open. Halsin were throw to the ground before he could end the healing spell.

"Halsin!" Shadowheart screamed. She almost escaped Lae'zel's hold. "No!"

"She was with us all day, Halsin," Wyll said as he paralised the druid. "We know it's her. Don't fight back."

That didn't stop Karlach from throwing her spear near the Blade's feet. "You fucking idiot!"

Mizora clapped, enjoying the show.

Jaheira burned Mizora before losing her wild shape. She will come back, she always does, but that never stops Jaheira. At least they will have some moments of respect.

She wandered towards Minsc. He kneeled on the floor, and for a moment she feared something happened to him when she wasn't paying attention.

"She told me not open my eyes," cried Yenna. "I can't open they yet. She told me not to."

"Have you ever seen my miniature giant space hamster?" Yenna didn't react to him. "No, Boo, she nee..."

Jaheira kneeled beside him, her hand resting on his shoulder. "You did well, cub," she forced herself to laugh. "You were so brave. Let's get you and your red cat something to eat, alright?"

A dry sound reached their ears, stopping every and each one of them. You fell to the ground, as firm as an empty sack, whimpers leaving your mouth as you slipped into unconsciousness.

No fighting. No yelling. A quiet end. A peaceful one.

So easy.

Astarion grabbed Gale's shoulders, whispering so the others wouldn't notice. "It smells like her," Astarion swallowed hard. "I know it."

"Are you really sure of that?" Gale watched you, saw all your blood spreading through the ground, and looked into his eyes again. "Because if you're not, if your guess is wrong, then it will be our guts on the ground. Do you really trust your nose that much?"

Astarion gave him a smirk, but Gale could see the fear he was trying to hide. "Will you cover me, darling?"

"What's your plan?"

"Please. If you think I have one, then you don't know me at all."

As the spike dissapeared, Orin held Shadowheart's face again. "Think of everything we faced together. The nautiloid, the grove, the shadows. Wasn't I beside you all this time? Have I ever turned my back on you?"

"No." That Shadowheart knew the answer. "Never."

She looked up to the moon, praying for assistance. When her eyes fell down, she saw the body on the floor. And what surrounded it.

Scratch sad down beside you. He nudged your shoulder with his nose, waiting for you to stop with that game. He didn't like it. It wasn't fun like the others. But as he moved your body, she saw something reflecting the sunset. A flask. Concentrating, Shadowheart saw the contour of something. Of Astarion's body.

Gale had blue rays of light coming out of his eyes.

"Exactly, my love," her cheeks were pinched. The long nails digged on them for so long. "I've never turned on you. Not when you tried to kill Lae'zel. Not when you lied to me again and again. Or when you showed us how low you would go for your goddess. Remember the fear on the Nightsong's eyes? Remember how I pretended not to know all you would do to her if I wasn't there? A cleric who doesn't know where to lay her faith, a torturer so easily deceived, a coward unable to make the right decisions. That's why you never turned on me, right? Because I make the decisions you can't. I carry all the guilty for you. Because it's easier when I control everything. Don't you like it? That you don't need to use your brain when I am around? Wouldn't you give your memories to me if I asked? I know you would. I know you will."

Your head fell. The bone cracking, the skin stretching. They could hear as it moved, as it turned into something else. The shoulders falling, elbows breaking in half, the spine bending until it touches the bloody ground. The last snap, deep and long.

And from a thin cloud of dust, Orin appeared.

"Look at it. Crawnling under my fe..."

Nyrulna wasn't near Wyll, deep on the ground, neither did it came back to Karlach's hands. With accurate aim, the trident pierced Orin's ribs. Her blood joined yours, and the pale body fell where yours once lay.

Taking your time, you walked towards her. Stepping on the changeling's stomach, you ripped the trident from her insides. "I will give you a glorious death," you growled. "I'll make Bhaal wish I was his chosen."

You kneeled beside her, pressing the trident against her neck, then lowered your face until her ear. "I'll make him regret ever settling for you," you whispered.

Her eyes shone. "How... you know," she could barely say anything. "My... sib..."

You squeezed her cheeks, shutting her up. Then you caressed it, getting her skin dirty with your blood. "I know shit about you," you replied. "But I can tell you would never be anyone's first choice."

Orin can believe she escaped, if it's that what she desires. That you were too slow to stop her from teleport to wherever she deemed safe. That you were all bark and no bite. The truth is that she was wrong about you from the start.

You like the hunting.

You dropped Nyrulna to the ground, and threw yourself into Shadowheart's arms. “She lies,” you whispered. "She deceives and hurts and maims. Nothing was true. You're nothing that she said."

Quietly, Shadowheart hugged you. She breathed in your scent, felt your touch, heard your voice. You, you, you. She cried against your body. You.

Looking at the rest of your party, you breathed in. "We need a code," you said. "If we ever get into this sort of situation again, we need to say..."

You bite your lips, trying to think of something. Something you wouldn't use in another situation. Something that would be unique, impossible to confuse the meaning.

"Gold," you chose. "Or the rest of us are allowed to go for the kill."

Lae'zel cleared her throat. "Fair enough."

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

BALDUR’S GATE 3 TAGLIST: @citrusbunnies

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[viridescentelf]

headcanon: how some of the bg3 camp members cook

wyll and karlach always cook together, karlach heats up the pan or sears fish and meat with her hands while wyll gleefully cuts up veggies. he‘ll usually tell some story while karlach listens like a little kid. they make decent food, camp is usually quite content with the quality. astarion will always say „a la karlach“, when he eats a piece of grilled meat or fish. they really enjoy each other’s company and karlach likes to learn new things. halsin favors natural stuff. he’ll start off with glazing figs or dates in honey or just cutting veggies and fruit in cool shapes. but then: the raw meat shit starts. he’ll talk your ears off about how nature intends meat or fish to be eaten raw bc otherwise it eliminates all the vitamins and nutrients. tav will initially try and have to stop themselves from gagging, while halsin watches excitedly. camp usually tries to plan vegetarian options, when it‘s the bear‘s turn to cook. gale THINKS he can cook. like is truly convinced he‘s a master chef. he refuses to use magic since he „knows what he‘s doing“. this is a man who will destroy any piece of fish or meat he has in front of him bc he has no idea how to debone or cut meat properly. he thinks some mushrooms aren‘t poisonous when cooked to smithereens (even though they def still are). he will slave around the pot and think he made the best thing ever only for tav to have to stop laezel from spitting it out in front of the poor guy. it‘s usually mushy, unseasoned (or undercooked) and gives camp a stomachache. jaheira always volunteers to make something in addition, a salad or a dessert so at least something is edible. jaheira actually knows what she’s doing. cooks very homely and keeps giving people more food than they need. “you’re too skinny”, she says as she plops another portion onto astarion’s half-eaten plate who’s already extremely full. she’ll scold karlach for ignoring her veggies, but will sneak a lot of them in the sauce. she’ll secretly find out what the groups’ favorite meals are and surprise them with reminders of childhood or home. while she’s cooking, everyone has a job. wyll cuts veggies, shadowheart washes dishes, laezel helps tenderize meat, she’ll send gale on a useless errand so he doesn’t screw anything up in the kitchen, tav makes the plates, halsin picks flowers and makes sure gale is busy, astarion makes sure the wine is airing properly, karlach helps with dessert. shadowheart is the ultimate almond mom. her meals are always a protein with a heap load of salad and an apple as “dessert”. the portions are tinyyyyyy and she will say she’s full after two bites. no one is really that full after she cooks, but it’s definitely healthy and tastes decent. could use some seasoning. astarion cooks very well, but is a massive diva in the kitchen. he will shoo everyone away or hiss when someone touches a kitchen utensil he just put there on purpose and it needs to stay there so he knows where it is. he’ll keep mumbling “no one ever helps me”. it’s usually super fancy and he will explain in detail everything he did and how he achieved the specific aroma or aftertaste no one can actually taste. it tastes amazing though. after he cooks, he sleeps like a log. laezel cooks essentials, like very „it’s all you need“, and it looks like it too. plating is not a thing for her, she will plop it onto a plate and basically throw it at you. if some things fall off…that’s a you problem. it's usually very protein heavy with just a whole paprika or onion on the plate. what she will make is a spicy as fuck sauce. it tastes amazing, but some members in the camp won’t be able to handle it well. her typical “tchk” will sound through the camp when shadowheart complains about the heat.

i will add more upon request and with ideas :)

[its-jaytothemee]

A Burden Shared - Part I: The Fight (1/2)

Pairings: Astarion x Tav, Halsin x Tav, Astarion x Tav x Halsin

Word count: 2,645; Tav and Astarion POVs

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Read on AO3

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Summary: A group sparring session turns sour, and Astarion becomes very protective of Tav. Halsin goes to comfort Tav afterwards and ends up confessing some feelings he's had for a while now.

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Eventual Smut, Feelings Confessions, Spoilers for Act 3, Sparring, Protective Astarion, Soft Halsin, Tav needs a fucking hug.

Author's Note: The tadfools get a filler episode. No explicit material yet, but will be present in a later chapter. Part 1 is finished, hopefully part 2 can be uploaded sometime in the next week or so. Will switch between a few character POVs, for now I only have Tav and Astarion. Enjoy! :)

The city was in far worse shape than Tav could have imagined. They arrived in Rivington to find the town overflowing with refugees, learned of Gortash’s impending coronation, and learned that Duke Belynne Stelmane had been murdered. They also found out that Orin was a shapeshifter, capable of taking on the appearance of anyone she wished. Doppelgangers had infiltrated Jaheira’s squad of Harpers, and to add salt to their wounds, Raphael was lurking around Wyrm’s Crossing trying to tempt them into a deal for the Orphic Hammer. They had arrived at the city gates a day and a half ago, and still had no suitable way to get into the lower city.

At the Emperor’s insistence, they all headed to camp early even though it was barely midday. Given the state of the city, they realized that they needed time to re-evaluate their plan of attack. Tav was still unsure of how much trust they could place in the Emperor, but she could feel it mirroring her own anxiety around their surroundings. They trudged back through the muddy roads of Rivington, making their way to their camp on the outskirts of town. An ethereal voice glided into their thoughts.

“I need time to reconsider our approach. Stelmane’s death does not…bode well. Take the time to rest, it is hard to tell when you will be afforded another opportunity to do so.” The Emperor’s voice disappeared from their minds as quickly as it came.

“So, what now? We just go lounge around at camp? Drink wine and not kill anything?” Astarion asked with his typical melodramatic flair.

“We could go back to the circus!” Karlach yelled, running up and throwing an arm around Tav’s shoulders.

“I am not taking any chances of running into more murderous clowns, Karlach.” Astarion shot back, jumping to the other side of Tav and looping his arm through hers.

“I never even got to get my face painted.” Karlach pouted.

“Chk.” Lae’zel was trailing behind the three of them, a sour look on her face “We waste time ‘resting’ when we have no wounds that need healing and our minds are still sharp. We should press on into the city.” She had been particularly critical of Tav lately, their time in the Astral Prism didn’t help with that.

“Easy Lae’zel,” Jaheira chimed in, “if we try to force our way into the city right now, we could attract the wrong kind of attention. I recommend caution.”

“Let’s just head back to camp. We should catch the others up on what we’ve found, and I don’t think we’ll be getting into the lower city right now with Gortash’s coronation so close.” Tav decided.

She was still unsure why they all looked to her for these types of decisions. Ever since they crashed on that beach, she was assumed to be the default leader. Tav had been doing her best to keep this unlikely group of companions together. It helped that they were all really quite fond of one another now. Only a few real fights had broken out amongst their ranks, most of them stemming from varying states of exhaustion and were fixed by a good night’s sleep. With each new ally they recruited, her imaginary authority grew. Even with the addition of Halsin and Jaheira, two wise leaders experienced years beyond Tav, they still looked to her for guidance. To make things worse, it wasn’t even just her camp of companions that was looking up to her. So many of those they had met on their journey here talked about how she was the hero who would save Baldur’s Gate, the hero who would save them all.

But now they had finally reached their destination. Home. Tav was trying to maintain her composure, but she was starting to panic. This was a big city, and they had ticking time bombs in their heads threatening them more and more each day. If they didn’t find out how to take out Orin and Gortash, she doubted the small artefact she carried would still be enough to protect them when an elder brain was unleashed onto the city.

Her brow furrowed as she concentrated, trying to piece together any plan that could get them closer to getting these tadpoles out of their heads. She had some old friends in the City Watch, maybe they could tell her if anything strange had been happening. But there was always a chance that they were loyal to the Absolute as well. She had a contact in the Thieves Guild but would prefer to use them as a last resort only.

“Tav? Tav?”

Astarion’s voice startled her out of her thoughts.

“Hm? Sorry, what were you saying?” She shook her head slightly, trying to bring herself back to the present.

“Just making sure you were still there, darling. You seem…distracted lately.” He smiled softly at her.

“Ah, just the fatigue of a hero. I guess.” She joked, trying to keep the mood light. If they needed her to be a leader, she didn’t want to burden anyone with her worries.

“Now you see why I prefer skulking in the shadows over basking in the spotlight.” He still had his arm looped around hers.

“Well, it’s not like you had much of a choice between shadows and light before, my love.” She teased, leaning into him.

Astarion was about to make a quip in response when they were spotted by Gale at the edge of their new camp.

“You’re all back rather early, that’s not usually a good sign.” Gale’s chipper voice called to them.

“We ran into some unexpected complications.” Tav replied. “We may need a new plan for getting into the city. Wyrm’s Crossing is crawling with Flaming Fist loyal to Gortash. Not to mention all of the murders and the fact that the cult of Bhaal has apparently recruited every shapeshifter in the godsdamned realms.” Her frustration was creeping into her tone. When she looked around, everyone was looking at her again. She let out a small sigh.

“Let’s get everyone gathered, see what we can come up with.”

As everyone gathered in the middle of the camp, Tav debriefed the rest of the group on what they saw in Rivington and Wyrm’s Crossing. Jaheira detailed the encounter at the Harper safehouse, also telling everyone about her search for Minsc of Rashemar. They discussed the multiple murders that included Duke Stelmane. The topic of Raphael was a short one, as pretty much everyone agreed that they should have no dealings with the devil. Finally, Orin was the point of discussion. Bhaal’s bloodthirsty chosen had already proven to be a complication. She could change shape in the blink of an eye, which meant she could be anywhere. Tav tried to listen as everyone talked around her and over each other. She rubbed her heavy eyes, trying to convince the headache she felt coming on to stay away.

“So then, what’s our next step?” Wyll’s voice piped up as everyone finally started to quiet down.

When Tav looked up, she realized all eyes were on her again. She looked around the camp at the tired faces, all waiting for her to tell them what to do. And she had absolutely no idea what that was.

“We uh,” She started, trying to search through the fog clouding her brain, “we need to find a way into the lower city first and foremost. Maybe we can con our way into Gortash’s coronation.”

“What good will it do us to attend a ceremony that is so obviously a farce?” Lae’zel’s commanding voice countered. “We don’t have time to play the political games of your realm. We must press forward into the city as soon as possible.” Her yellow eyes were fixed on Tav.

“The Emperor needs time to figure out how we can get the other two Netherstones. If we just – ” Tav was cut off by Lae’zel.

“I will not wait around to be given orders by a ghaik.” Her tone told Tav that this was not a topic she was willing to discuss.

“What would you have us do Lae’zel? Fight our way through the entire city?” She could hear the exhaustion seeping into her voice. “You saw one of those Steel Watchers, the city is supposedly crawling with them. We’d be lucky if we made it to the Elfsong Tavern."

“Tav is right.” Jaheira spoke up next. “We need to find our way into the city…quietly.” She looked at Lae’zel.

“Chk” Is the only sound they heard in response.

“Why don’t we all just take a rest today?” Tav suggested. “Gods know it’s been long enough since we’ve had more than an hour to relax.”

There were some mumbled sounds of approval, and everyone sort of shuffled off towards different areas of camp. With her small crowd dispersing, Tav finally felt like she could breathe.

“You should take your own advice.” A deep voice called from behind her.

Tav looked over her shoulder to see Halsin leaning against a barrel. She smiled weakly and walked over to him.

“That’s funny, I could have sworn I told you the same thing all those nights ago after the goblin camp.” She teased. He smiled at that, causing her heart rate to pick up a bit.

“Ah, yes. I’m afraid my mind was still rather clouded back then.” He looked back out over the camp. “You’re exhausted, Tav. I see the fatigue in your eyes, I hear the strain in your voice.” His voice was much softer now.

“I don’t have much of a choice, Halsin. Everyone here is looking to me for answers. Answers that I just don’t have.” She was once again aware of the headache trying to force its way into her eyes.

“Here, I have something for you.” He held out a small potion vial. “This will help keep those headaches away.”

She took the vial and immediately downed the whole thing. It had a very strong herbal flavor, the initial bitter notes faded into a sweet aftertaste. She could already feel the small ache starting to fade causing her to let out a sigh of relief.

“Thanks.” She smiled at him.

“Anytime.” He said with a nod of his head. Before he turned to leave, he gave her one last lingering look, causing her to blush slightly.

Tav watched him walk away, the soft breeze was blowing his hair around his ears. She admired the shape of his arms, suddenly finding herself wondering what it would feel like to be caught between them. Her eyes continued to wander further down his body, taking in the shape of his hips and thighs. Another thought took over her mind as she imagined digging her hands into his thighs, slowly making their way back to his backside, how it would feel to be pressed against his–

She felt her face redden at the thought and snapped herself out of her fantasy. A huge wave of guilt crashed into her as her eyes landed on Astarion. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t feeling a little…pent up since their time around Moonrise. For the most part, it didn’t bother her much, just in moments like this when she was feeling particularly overwhelmed. Regardless, it was worth the frustration if it made him feel comfortable. She had noticed such a change in him over the last tenday or so. He seemed so much more relaxed than when she first met him, actually taking the time to rest at night rather than prowling around the camp. His nightmares seemed to be fewer and further in between. Her desires were nothing compared to watching him peacefully enter a trance while laying in her arms each night.

He caught her staring and flashed his devious little grin at her, not helping her contain herself. All she was able to manage in return was a tired smile. She walked over to him and slowly slid her arms around his waist, planting a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Hello, darling. What was that for?” He hugged her to his side.

“Do I need a reason?” She responded, trying to hide the shame still swirling around inside of her.

She stood there holding him for a few moments, listening to his soft breathing.

“Are you…alright?” He asked her, concern apparent in his voice.

“Of course.” She lied. “Seeing the city in this state is just…overwhelming.” She looked up at him and tried to flash a reassuring smile.

He eyed her in return, obviously suspicious.

“I’m fine, love. Really.” She was trying to convince herself as she said the words.

“I…I want to be here for you, my dear. Like you have been for me.” His voice softened.

“I know…” She whispered back. “And you have been.” She was telling the truth. Just having Astarion around her did make her feel better. She just couldn’t bring herself to admit to him that she was struggling. And she definitely didn’t want him to know about her…other frustrations. He was just starting to open up and trust her, she couldn’t bear the thought of him pushing himself too far on her behalf.

“Hey! Lovebirds!” Karlach yelled at them. “Those weapons looks like they could use a good sharpening.” She was holding her own weapon over her head to show them.

Tav let go of Astarion’s waist and picked up her sword.

“Come on, let’s at least take a chance to fix up some of our gear.” She helped Astarion gather up some other weapons and brought them over by the rest of their group.

***

Astarion had come to enjoy the smell of the oils they used to condition their armor. The sound of scraping whetstones filled the air around them, an oddly comforting sound now. Everyone in camp was sitting in a circle of sorts, tending to their weapons and other equipment. Tav was sitting next to him, cleaning dried blood and Gods know what else off of her large sword. Astarion knew something had Tav feeling down, but she wouldn’t way what it was. He didn’t want to push her, he knew that she would talk to him when she was ready. But he wanted to at least try to cheer her up a little bit. Give her a small confidence boost, maybe.

“Tell me, darling,” Astarion started, taking on a flirty tone, “are you really proficient with any type of weapon?”

“Ewww. Keep it in your pants, Fangs.” Karlach called from the other side of the circle.

Tav laughed in response. “Maybe not any weapon. I definitely favor my greatswords and greataxes, but I suppose I can make do with just about anything. My instructor was adamant that a true fighter shouldn’t rely on only one skill. You never know when you’ll be disarmed in a fight.” She shot a teasing look back at him.

“Ugh, it was one time. Honestly Tav, you act as if no one has ever made you drop a weapon.” He had his hand on his chest, feigning offense. 

“Hard to disarm me when they’re knocked to the ground.” She smirked.

“Feeling cocky today, are we?” He raised an eyebrow at her, and she gave him a playful grin. “Maybe the others would be interested in a little sparring session then?” She was still smiling back at him, but before she could respond, Karlach leaped from her seat.

“Fuck yeah!” She yelled. The others joined in, already starting to argue about who would go first.

“Let’s see if you can hold on to your weapons against us, darling.” He looked back to Tav and winked. He knew it was unlikely anyone in this camp could actually beat her in a one on one fight. Surely an afternoon of showing off her combat prowess would lift her spirits a little bit.

[blackjackkent]

I find myself wondering what happens if you manage to kill Lorroakan before Aradin can make his move on camp, which I think happens at the next long rest, so we're going to maybe see if we can prioritize the whole Sorcerous Sundries adventure immediately.

I imagine Jaheira is not thrilled about this distraction given we were on the way to rescue Minsc, but - being Jaheira - immediately deprioritizes her own comfort in favor of looking into the potential threat to Aylin and potential information about the Crown of Karsus, both of which are important to the group's overall goals. (Thus simultaneously making herself feel guilty for considering him more important and guilty for not doing everything she can to find him immediately, because Jaheira is harder on herself than anyone else in the game and possibly the world.)

Rakha, meanwhile, is oblivious because she is deeply distracted by being fascinated by the whole store building. If the show out front was fascinating, the show inside is extraordinary.

Even leaving aside the magic, its a gorgeous building, tall and ornate, filled with columns of metal and carved stone, lined with elaborate stained glass windows.

But the magic... the magic!

Elementals stand in every corner. The bookshelves glimmer and glint with the barely-restrained power they hold. Animals appear and disappear around them, seemingly summoned by the very shop itself.

And in Rakha's eyes, which see beyond the skin of the world into the Weave itself, the whole place glows like fire, like lightning, like moonlight and sunlight and a rainbow of colors beyond imagining. It is, perhaps, the most beautiful thing she has ever seen.

(A/N: Look how pretty Sundries' ceiling is! Score one for flycam; we're missing out by not being able to look up in these games. And props to whatever Larian dev made that ceiling even though no one would look at it.)

To her surprise,she recognizes - very vaguely - another face in this place as well.

"How can I help you?" the tiefling at the counter asks irritably as she draws near.

It takes her a moment to place why he looks familiar. Partly this is because she only met him for a few moments, but partly it is because he looks utterly terrible; his face his mottled with bruises and a long burn scar marks his left cheek. There's a hollow expression in his eyes that she doesn't remember being there before.

(A/N: Rolan! Low-key I def assumed he was dead until I thought about it within the last day or so. Nice to see him alive, although unfortunately for him Rakha has zero reason to care about him at this point. He sounds so tired and beaten down, poor guy.)

"You look familiar..." she says slowly. "Were you in the druid's grove?"

He shrugs vaguely. "Perhaps. I stopped by many huts and hamlets on my way here. Master Lorroakan invited me to be his apprentice." He tries to smile, but it seems to tug painfully at the bruises on his face.

Yes - she vaguely remembers him mentioning this from the fragment of conversation she overheard before he left the other tieflings.

"You must be here to shop," he goes on hastily before she can ask anything else. "I am sundries, while Tolna deals with tomes." He hesitates, then looks at her narrowly. "Or are you perhaps another 'adventurer' with information on the 'Nightsong'?"

Rakha grunts noncommittally. It's an unpleasant reminder that they're here for things other than looking at the beauty of the Weave, and with a scowl she tries to draw her thoughts back into order.

Tomes - yes. They will need to speak to this Tolna. She'll have to bring Gale here and see what information they can glean together, as he thought this was the best possible place to research the Crown of Karsus and how it might be defeated.

For the rest, though...

"I might be here about Nightsong," she says cautiously. She has no interest in Lorroakan's reward, of course - only what threat he might pose to those in her camp. He would not be seeking Aylin, and convincing those he contracts that she is a mindless relic, for any good purpose she can conceive of.

The man's eyes narrow. "If you've got information, Master Lorroakan will want to speak to you immediately," he says brusquely. "He speaks of almost nothing else than the Nightsong's retrieval."

He jerks his head towards the rear of the store, and winces at the movement. "Head upstairs to find the way into his tower."

The slightest flicker of hesitation, and then he adds in a low voice, "But be careful. Mistakes are always punished around here."

[baldurs-gape]

Oh gosh, this is the shores nonnie from earlier and I am so grateful for your response! I didn’t have the best night so I am just so happy you are so kind😭❤️

My dear Shores Nonnie, I am so sorry to hear you've not had the best night. While I may simply be a stranger over the internet, please know that my DMs are always open if you need a willing ear to talk to. I can't promise to have any magical solutions but I make up for that in ample pet pictures (cats, dogs and various snakes are currently on offer), memes and stories of being a smidge of a disaster of a human being should you ever need a distraction.

Given that you've had a rought night, I've not had a great day myself, I can do but one thing. We give Astarion a not so great time, how about it?

(CW: this turned out a little more grim than intended. Glossed over torture, rape and just general Astarion having a bad time at the hands of Godey and other spawn before the others show up.)

One of Many

When Astarion was snatched by his so called siblings in the night, the rest of the party was up in arms. That was their vampire spawn now and they were going to retrieve him, thank you very much. Finders keepers and all that. Brave words which were so easy to speak yet acting on them was harder. Going during the night didn't seem the best of ideas so they waited until morning when light would offer them protection should they need to run, but if they did then they'd make sure they had Astarion in tow.

Getting into the stronghold was surprisingly easy. Finding Cazador was too. Between Karlach, Gale, Halsin and Jaheira they made a damn good attempt at ending his tyranny. The only problem was when the despicable worm turned and fled, they couldn't find him. Searching the palace led them from room to room. It was Jaheira who spotted the concealed door. Walking through it was about was good as walking into a nightmare. The whole room had Silence cast on it which explained why nobody could hear anything outside. But inside that bubble was filled with screams and begging in an all too familiar voice.

A skeleton was looming over the table where Astarion was pinned. No, he was nailed down while three other spawn stood around, watching impassively. As the skeleton moved, it revealed pools of blood on the floor along with pale lumps that were best not looked at too closely because they looked like flesh.

"Please. Please. I'm sorry." Astarion's voice was breaking, hoarse, he'd been crying and begging for a while. "Not again. I'll be good. I can be good."

His words turned into a scream that died down into a whimper and wet, bubbling gasps. Karlach charged.

Their second fight was short and brutal, much more satisfying than against Cazador. The spawn and the skeleton fell under their blades and magic with speed until it was just the five of them left in the cold, blood stained room. Approaching the table, Halsin was already preparing a healing spell while Gale rifled through his scrolls in case he had something he could help with. Meanwhile, Karlach tried to be as gentle as possible pulling the nails out of pale flesh. She and and Jaheira shared a glance over the table as Astarion lay motionless, eyes squeezed shut and teeth dug into bloodied lips to stay quiet.

"We've got you, Fangs," Karlach murmured softly and stroked through his hair. The hiss of sympathy was impossible to stop as she saw Astarion's ears, or rather, what had been left of them. She gagged and a hand touched the tips of her own as the slices of flesh under the table made sense. They hadn't simply been hacked off but rather taken sliver by agonising sliver.

As Halsin poured his healing magic into Astarion, Gale tipped a potion bottle against lips which were slow to respond. However, within three minutes Astarion was looking much like his old self as he swung himself upright and hopped off the table.

"Well?" He asked as he walked to the table with a pile of bloodied and shredded clothes. "Is he dead?"

"The coward ran," Jaheira said.

Astarion's eyes snapped up at them full of rage even as he shimmied into ripped trousers, uncaring of the blood and other fluids that still coated his inner thighs.

"So why the fuck are you here? What use are you? You should have gone after him and killed him!"

Walking closer, Gale tried to reach out but got violently shrugged off with a loud "Don't touch me!" Astarion's rage didn't end there though. "Useless, that's what you are. Wasting your time playing heroes while the monster is still at large. And you dare call yourselves my friends and lovers. Pathetic."

Hearing him fume rather than be grateful for the rescue was actually hurtful and infuriating. Gale stepped back, arms crossed over his chest and scowling.

"So we shouldn't have bothered coming to save you."

A large hand squeezed his shoulder and Halsin looked between his two partners.

"Perhaps we could all go back to camp and take a rest. I think we need it."

All through the trip, Astarion didn't say anything, strode out front of the group as he walked to the dock they'd set up camp in. Without word he marched into his tent and let the flap close behind him. It was probably less dramatic than he'd wanted.

Nobody saw him for the rest of the evening. Halsin cast wishful glances at the tent as he wrapped an arm around Gale but they left Astarion to his own devices. Whatever he was working through, he needed the space. One by one, the whole camp retired, Jaheira and Karlach were the last to go, staying up late as Karlach sought comfort from her hero after seeing her friend so mutilated.

Quiet settled around camp but Gale couldn't sleep. Even as he was snugly enveloped in Halsin's arms, he missed the chill from his other side where Astarion usually pressed in. Sleep continued to elude him until he couldn't keep still. Determined to go to Astarion's tent, he slipped out from Halsin's embrace and stood with a groan. Stepping out of the tent, he spotted a lone figure, sitting at the edge of the dock. Of course it was Astarion.

Sneaking had never been Gale's forte and he wasn't looking to take Astarion off guard. Instead, he padded softly towards him and stood, a little awkward until Astarion craned his neck to look up at him.

"Yes?" How he managed to sound bored was rather impressive.

"Did you really mean it?"

Rather than reply, Astarion went back to staring out at the sea. Taking his silence as confirmation, Gale turned to leave which was the exact moment he spoke up.

"Do you know how many times I've seen these stars?"

Halting, Gale looked over his shoulder. He wasn't quite sure what the crux of the conversation was and, truth be told, didn't know whether he could bring himself to care in that moment. It didn't seem to bother Astarion.

"Thousands of times. And they never change. It's why he liked calling me Star, to remind me that nothing about me will change either." There was no question about who the 'he' in the situation was. "He could do anything he wanted to me. But the end was always the same. I lived. I healed. I screamed again the next night. It never changed."

Retracing his steps, Gale stood next to Astarion and wondered whether he was welcome to sit. If he was honest with himself, he wanted to be there, to comfort Astarion if he was allowed to.

Eyes firmly on the water, Astarion continued, "It was the same thing all over again. Except rather than Godey shoving a fetid rat at me, it was you pouring potion down my throat. It burend just the same. I'm whole again. Only for it all to happen again. If not at his hands then in a fight or a random accident." Eyes finally turned to look up at Gale. "I'm so tired. I don't want to heal anymore. Don't want to get up again just to be broken by others."

Invitation be damned, Gale crouched down to pull Astarion against him in a tight hug. He could just about hear his words, muffled as they were in his sleep shirt.

"People look at me and think I'm okay. That I'm unbroken. I'm a blank canvas for them to etch their pain into with their blunt knives. Break pieces off because they'll grow back with a potion and a murmur of a spell. Today was just one day of many. It wasn't even the worst yet Karlach looks at me like her world's been crushed. Even though I'm the one who felt every broken bone and ripped flesh."

Gale rubbed his hand over Astarion's back and wished he could say something, anything to make it better. But there was nothing. They gave him the potions, healed him because they wanted him back. The few times Gale had needed help picking himself up off the floor after a fight, he'd been grateful for it. Listening to Astarion though, he wondered just how much of a betrayal it was, to have healed his body but there was nothing they could do for the mind and the memories that plagued it. Pulling him closer, holding him tighter, Gale was left with so many wishes yet not even a whisper of suggestion for a solution.

[thehistoriccemetery]

Heem.... to do... do platonic hc...? If u do (and I'm sorry if your requests are closed), could you write about Jaheira and minthara being Subtlety motherly/material to a Tav who opened up about their crappy relationship with their mother? Like, kind of, being sure they ate something, being sure they go to bed on time (busting into their tent and taking whatever their working on, reading/fixing a weapon or whatnot, like a parent catching their child on their phone at midnight), or like helping them do their hair in the morning and praising them a little more than normal? Please than thank you~

Motherly Jaheira

First of all I love this prompt so thank you anon. Second of all, as much as I love Minthara, I can’t see that woman having a maternal bone in her body. So, I hope it’s alright that I just did Jaheira!

Jaheira could smell the mommy issues coming off of you before you ever even mentioned your mother.

Even she didn’t really know what about you gave it away. Maybe it was in the way you over eagerly tried to please her. Or how your hair was done with all the elegance of someone who never really learned how to braid.

It didn’t matter though, because it only took a matter of days fighting by her side for you to open up to her about your maternal woes one night over wine at Last Light Inn.

You felt so compelled to share your story that you had half a mind to check the wine for Klauthgrass. Aside from a terribly high alcohol content, it was clean.

The night ended with your head in her lap, crying so hard you could hardly get your words out. All while Jaheira listened intently and stroked your hair. Not your best moment, you admit.

After that night though, she is sure to put a little extra attention into you, shooting you an extra look of approval when you did something particularly impressive or taking on the task of teaching you proper hair care.

She does her best not to treat you like a child, yet she sees this little child in you that’s begging to be loved and cared for.

She started calling you cub pretty much as soon as she met you, but now it seemed to slip off her tongue more often than even she intended it to. She also started to subconsciously add complimentary adjectives in front of the nickname. You were “little cub” or “clever cub.”

One night, she noticed you had a particular affinity for tucking an extra bedroll to your chest just so you’d have something to hold on to. The next night you find a small stuffed blue owlbear sitting next to your bedroll.

On nights you can’t sleep, she’ll tell you old Harper tales of days past. Karlach is always all too happy to move her bedroll closer so she can listen in too.

You notice there are patches in your clothes where there used to be holes. Your armor is nicely laid out rather than haphazardly strewn across the dirt.

She knows you are just as capable of taking a hit as anyone else in the party, but she pays careful attention to heal and dress your wounds. She’s much gentler with you than she is with anyone else.

And she insists on checking in on wounds every day. Even when they are minor it is good practice to clean and rebandage regularly.

When it’s just the two of you, she’s sure to be extra affectionate. She knows it embarrasses you a little when you’re around the others, but sometimes you just need to rest your head on her shoulder while she pulls you into a tight hug.

She loves to do your hair for you. She always says her girls were never ones for sitting still, and Jord never let her do anything more brush it and slick it back behind his ears.

She really struggles to be complimentary, but she tries to highlight your finer moments when she can.

And if ever there comes another night with slightly too much wine and a slightly too heavy burden, she will be there with listening ears once again.

[freyasilverbough]

The Cave Bear and the White Wolf - Waking the Flaming Fist

Cw for blood, mentions of suicide/self sacrifice. Freya being a prickly bitch like normal. Don’t worry she gets better soonish.

Freya handed Halsin a small bag of gold to restock their supplies with the quartermaster - Talli, he learned - while she went inside to speak with Jaheira. He couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of hope, this small pocket of safety in a land he was sure had been all but lost.

As Halsin hoisted his pack over his shoulder - now brimming with bandages, food, fresh water, and herbs to make potions - he tried not to think about the Selûnite who’d captured his attention. She was beautiful, to be sure, the picture of elven grace beneath all the dirt and grime. Her beauty was almost matched by her strength, both mental and physical, and her wit was as sharp as the blade she wielded with that unwavering ferocity. Most soldiers found themselves encumbered by their heavy armor, but Freya danced across each battlefield with the elegance of a noble lady.

He admired her, this woman who was half his size and a hundred years his junior, yet mightier than any he’d ever met. He’d gotten the tiniest of peeks into her mind, and he wanted more than anything to tear down the wall of stone erected around her heart. He wanted to know everything there was to know about her.

As if his thoughts summoned her, Freya came barreling out of the inn, searching the square until her gaze landed on him. He was immediately on alert at the sight of her urgency, and dropped his pack to hurry to her.

“What is it?” He asked, searching her face. Her expression, normally a stoic mask, was excited and swimming with hope.

“There’s a Flaming Fist in the inn. He’s insensible and unconscious, but he keeps singing about Thaniel.”

————

Halsin and Freya stood over the Fist’s bedside as he mumbled his song in his sleep. Over and over, the sleeping man mentioned Thaniel. Freya had not misheard, it was true. They needed to rouse him, to find out what he knew, but how?

“It’s true, then. He’s met Thaniel. We need to wake him.” Halsin repeated his thoughts aloud to Freya as she studied the man.

“Look at his hands,” she said. “His callouses, those aren’t from wielding a sword. He’s a musician, probably played some stringed instrument or another.”

“His name is Art Cullagh. He had this letter on him when we found him,” one of Counselor Florrick’s guards said, handing an old piece of parchment to Freya. She took it, and her brow furrowed as she read it to herself.

“Duke Eltan…he’s long dead,” she whispered. Halsin racked his brain to remember where he’d heard that name, but in truth, the city’s politicians were ever changing and Halsin paid them next to no mind. Freya’s eyes flicked upward to meet Halsin’s. “He was the duke in Baldur’s Gate a century ago,” she explained. “The timeline matches. This letter is an order to investigate a ‘House of Healing.’ I’ll go get the others, and gather a party. We’ll head there tomorrow.”

Halsin wrapped a hand around her bicep as she moved to leave. “You shouldn’t go out in the shadows alone,” he whispered, earning him an icy glare from the paladin.

“I need you here, to watch him. Make sure he doesn’t succumb to whatever this is that ails him. He’s our best lead - our only lead. I’m trusting you with his life, and I’m asking that you trust me with mine.” She sighed when Halsin did not let go. “On my oath, I will return. You have my word.” He loathed the idea of sending her out into the darkness alone, and hated even more that she was right. Art looked like he was on the brink of death, and he was the key to finding Thaniel. If there was anyone who could traverse the shadows on their own, he knew that it was Freya. She would go, retrieve their friends, and return to him intact - or so he prayed.

“Be swift, be brave, and be safe,” he commanded her. She nodded once, her resolve hardening her features, and Halsin released his grip on her arm. He watched as she turned and strode out of the room with her easy swagger. Shoulders back and head high, the picture of confidence and strength.

He prayed to the Oak Father, to Selûne if she would listen, that his soldier would be true to her word and return to him.

————

The Flaming Fist in the room were visibly annoyed by Halsin’s incessant pacing. Freya had left close to two hours before, and there were no signs of her return.

She was probably slowed down by all the gear they had to lug from campsite to campsite. That, or she was a shadow-cursed corpse somewhere…

Halsin growled in frustration at his own thoughts. She probably was slowed down by the larger group and all of their supplies. She had given him no reason to doubt her capabilities, but even the most skilled of warriors could be overwhelmed.

So, he paced. He worried. He watched Art Cullagh as he’d been directed. He worried some more.

After what felt like an eternity, Freya came sauntering through the door. Halsin quickly closed the distance between them and checked her over, but there wasn’t a drop of blood in sight. She removed her gauntlets and flexed her slender hands, the calluses of her palms glinting in the inn’s soft light.

“Not a peep from the shadows, if you can believe it. The others are setting up camp near the lakeshore. Apparently, Shar is protecting Shadowheart from the curse. As much as I despise it, we might be wise to keep her close. Shar’s protection may be an asset. The rest of us will have to figure something else out, if we’re all to reach Moonrise, I heard the shadows are deeper there and our torches won’t keep them at bay.”

“You are not our only secret weapon, paladin. Isobel, a faithful cleric of Selûne, casts the spell that protects this inn. She might be able to aid you, too. She’s upstairs in her room.” Halsin turned to find Jaheira in the doorframe. Secret weapon? He had no idea what she was talking about, and Freya refused to meet his questioning gaze.

“Thank you, High Harper,” Freya nodded at the half elf in gratitude. She finally turned to Halsin, but rather than explain what they had talked about before she left, she simply inquired about Art’s condition.

“He’s restless, but stable. I can come and assist you in settling the camp, but I’ll stay here tonight.” Freya nodded, then motioned for him to follow. Before they could leave the tavern, she spun on her heel and nearly smacked into Halsin’s chest.

“Oh, by the way, there’s an extra wizard. I don’t know what he wants, but it seems Elminster Aumar decided to pay us a visit.”

There was never a boring day with this group. Halsin chuckled as Freya led the way, and noticed it was getting harder not to stare at the sway of her ass as she walked.

————

“By the fucking gods, Gale, are you touched in the godsdamned head?!” Halsin heard Freya shriek at the wizard as he helped Shadowheart erect her tent. “I mean, honestly, you’re meant to be the smart one among us, and this has to be the dumbest fucking shit I’ve ever heard.”

For one so devout, the paladin had a mouth that could make a devil blush. He’d always thought of them as being the pinnacle of righteousness, almost above typical mortals, but Freya seemed bound and determined to prove him wrong at every turn.

“The Absolute is a threat to all of Faerûn, and if I can destroy it and earn Mystra’s forgive - ”

“I don’t give a flying fuck about Mystra. She can rot in the Outer Planes for all I care, or better yet, she can come demand your suicide herself so I can smite her where she stands.”

“What, so you’re the only one allowed to make sacrifices in the name of this mission we’ve all been thrust on? The orb is powerful enough to rid the world of this cult, and you know that. What good is a sword against - well, not a god, but close enough.”

“You doubt my blade, wizard?” Freya’s eyes narrowed as she hurled the accusation.

“Never. But even you must understand that what we’re up against is beyond our mortal capabilities.”

“Your mortal capabilities. Last I checked, my goddess and I are still on very good terms. She’s at least not commanding me to kill myself.”

“And if she did, would you? That’s a rhetorical question, by the way. We both know that if Selûne asked you to sacrifice your life to save others, you would throw yourself on your sword without question.”

Freya sucked in a deep breath, then turned on her heel and stormed away from Gale towards the tavern up the hill. Their shouting had drawn the attention of everyone in the party, and a tense silence settled over the camp like a cold blanket. Halsin approached the wizard, noting the dark circles under his eyes and the tremble in his lip. He’d lost weight, enough that it was obvious under his thick amethyst robes.

“Do you want to talk about it?” The druid asked carefully. While he was typically the camp healer, the role of mediator often fell to Freya. Resolving disputes was something he had much practice in thanks to his time as an Archdruid, and while he despised it in the grove, he found that he wanted to help his new friends overcome their differences and come to an accord.

“She thinks she knows what’s best for everyone, but this isn’t up to her. It’s my life, my orb, my goddess.” Gale shook his head and ran a hand through his hair.

“She cares about you.”

“Funny way of showing it,” Gale mumbled.

“She’s angry because she cares about you. About all of you. Her goal is to see everyone here make it out of this in one piece.” He glanced in the direction that Freya had gone when she stormed off. She had a short fuse on her best days, but something seemed…off. She was wound tighter than normal, and Halsin suspected the curse wasn’t the whole of her troubles.

“Go,” Gale said, interrupting his thoughts. “Check on Freya. I will get over it.”

Halsin nodded at the human before clapping him on the shoulder and heading in search of their paladin.

————

He found her drowning her feelings with the tiefling wizard, Rolan, at the bar in Last Light. As he got closer, he heard Rolan snapping at her as she nursed her drink.

“If you hadn’t convinced us to stay, Cal and Lia would still be here. This is on you,” he seethed, causing a hot fury to boil in Halsin’s stomach. After all she’d done for the grove, for the refugees, he dared to speak to her this way? They would all be dead if she hadn’t come along.

Freya didn’t so much as flinch. “Then it’s my responsibility to bring them back.” Her voice was calm, factual, and ever so slightly slurred.

“They’re my responsibility!”

“Rolan, that’s enough,” the bard, Alfira, scolded quietly in an attempt to calm the other tiefling.

“Go. Save the world, or your own arse, or whatever it is you do.”

“Enough.” Halsin raised his voice as he towered over the red mage in warning. Rolan backed away with a final glower at the paladin, and Halsin took his seat next to her.

“If you’re here to tell me to apologize to Gale, you’re in for a hell of a fight, druid.” She finished what was left in her glass and reached for a bottle half full of amber liquid to fill another. Whiskey, he’d observed these past weeks, was her favorite. Good ale was a close second.

“I’m not. Something is bothering you, and I’m not leaving until you talk to me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Look around us and tell me you’re not bothered.”

“Ever since you talked to Jaheira earlier, you’ve been acting strange.”

She slammed her glass on the bar and gripped it until her knuckles turned white. “I’m not in the fucking mood, Halsin.”

“What happened?”

“Ketheric fucking Thorm happened,” she snapped. “Ketheric Thorm, not just risen from the dead, but invulnerable. I’ve been tasked with infiltrating his stronghold, and now I have to kill an invulnerable man and pray that he doesn’t fucking recognize me. That’s what happened. Are you happy now?” Freya grabbed the whiskey bottle by its neck and stormed away once more, leaving Halsin reeling in her revelation.

Ketheric Thorm. The man who unleashed the curse on this land, the man that he and his comrades had fought so hard to destroy a hundred years before, alive. Memories of that horrid day crashed into him like a tidal wave, and he found himself wishing for his own drink to push them away.

Instead of smothering his growing misery with alcohol, he returned to Art Cullagh’s bedside. He decided he would stay with the man until they woke him, or he eventually succumbed.

————

“Look alive, druid.” Halsin barely had time to catch the lute as it came flying at his face. Freya strode into the room with Shadowheart, Astarion, and Lae’zel in tow, the githyanki and the paladin soaked in black blood. It was a similar sight to the aftermath of Marcus’ failed abduction of Isobel, the Selûnite cleric who protected this patch of land and extended that protection to those who would need to travel outside of the shield’s boundaries.

“Found this on a surgeon in the House of Healing,” Freya explained gruffly.

“Are you hurt?” His eyes trailed up and down her form in search of injury, but unless she felt inclined to strip the black armor that covered her from neck to toe, there wasn’t much to be seen. Given her mood towards him lately, he found that particular scenario unlikely.

“The surgeon was some creepy follower of Shar. Wanted to take my eyes. I took his head instead.” Shadowheart huffed at Freya’s explanation. “Found the lute in a chest, look at the neck.” Halsin did as she wished, spinning the instrument until he found the letters A.C. carved into the wood.

“This is what we needed,” he whispered. “Well done, indeed.” His chest swelled with pride as he held the lute out to her, this day was her victory. She should be the one to break the man’s trance. “Go on, then. Maybe its music will restore him.”

“Or perhaps my horrid musical skills will finally put the poor man to rest,” she quipped as she removed her bloodsoaked gauntlets. Freya rolled her black sleeves up to her elbows, lithe muscles flexing with the movement. She took the lute from Halsin with a roll of her pretty blue eyes, and began to play.

With her prior comment, he was not expecting the easy notes that floated from the strings in a haunting melody that floated effortlessly through the air like a ghostly whisper. Her fingers danced across the strings with grace, each note carrying the weight of centuries past, filling the room with a sense of mystery and longing. A northern tune, to be sure. Perhaps a clue to her homeland, Halsin had guessed that she hailed from the frigid tundras of the north, but where specifically he could not say. Her playing brought tears to his eyes, until Art startled awake and he was once more brought back to earth.

Halsin laid a calming hand on the Fist’s shoulder and knelt as he jolted upright. “Calm,” he murmured, the bedside manner of an Archdruid taking over. “Breathe. You’ve been trapped in the Shadowfell for a century. Take a moment to clear your mind.” Freya set the instrument down carefully next to Art’s bed and knelt on one knee, nodding at Halsin to take the lead.

“You-you’re Halsin. Thaniel said to find you. He’s in danger, you have to save him.”

“I will. But I must know where to look. If I venture into the Shadowfell blind, I will never find him.” He met Freya’s piercing blue gaze. Perhaps he should have told her the whole of his plan before they got to this point, but she wasn’t exactly forthcoming with her own schemes.

“The landscape shifts and changes…lavender. Whenever I saw Thaniel, I always smelled lavender.” Halsin nodded and helped the man to lay back down before turning to Freya.

“Meet me by the lakeshore. I have what we need, but I’ll need your help to see this through. Be ready, this may prove…perilous.”

Freya’s eyes narrowed at Halsin’s direction. “What is it you’re planning to do here, druid?” she demanded.

“I’ll explain everything, after you’ve gathered your supplies. I suggest bringing anyone along that wields radiant magic. Fire, light, the works. Your own magic will be needed more than your blade, I’ll wager. Meet me there, and we’ll discuss what comes next.”

Freya studied him for a long moment, then turned on her heel and headed in the direction of their camp. A ball of anxiety took root and began to grow in his stomach. He knew the shadows would not be banished without a fight, and he was asking even more of this woman who had already done so much to aid him. A paladin of Selûne was perhaps the most well equipped to handle the threat that was about to come her way, but he’d seen enough great warriors fall to a well placed blow that he worried for her. He knew she would protect her friends - and him - no matter the cost, even at the cost of her own life.

Halsin took a steadying breath and retrieved a lit torch from the wall, making his way in long strides either to his doom, or their salvation.

[rinwellisathing]

Paint The Lines, Cut The Flesh Part 31,first half

Yeah this 100% needs to be in two halves because it's really fucking long. Also there will be an epilogue but holy shit I couldn't sleep last night and wrote like 25 pages over the course of a day.

When Sentry finally did leave his tent, he wandered the camp aimlessly, everyone else seemed to be asleep, he knew Halsin was, since the druid had remained by his side. He was vaguely aware that at some point, Astarion had stopped in to his tent to make sure he was alright. The elf had made no mention of whatever had happened to him in the battle Karlach had been so angry about, but Sentry could sense the tell tale resurrection magic Withers used. He knew he should have felt guilty, he knew he should be glad that almost everyone seemed to have forgiven him, but he felt hollow. He stared briefly at the path out of camp that would lead back to Rivington, a powerful urge to go and curl up between Commander Ojeda and Father Lorgan's graves and just be alone filled him, but a tug of shame at his chest held him back. He knew these people were his friends, he knew Astarion and Halsin loved him, he knew more than that that Astarion viewed Sentry as the reason he'd been strong enough not to ascend and no matter how flippant he was acting, Sentry being the one to turn on the others had to be a knife in the heart. But then, why should it surprise him that other people had self control, other people could be good and kind. Years of being a child of Bhaal had allowed Sentry to believe he had the capacity to do the right thing, to be good, but now, free of Bhaal's influence, he had carelessly tried to toss away every 'good' influence in his life, including someone who had been where he'd been, at least to some extent. His ears twitched as he heard the soft sounds of crying from a small courtyard by the Stormshore Tabernacle. Slowly, he made his way there and peered around the wall, eyes falling to Shadowheart, who was standing before a statue of Selune, looking almost as empty as he was. Clearing his throat, he approached her.

“Hey...” Was all he managed, raising a hand in greeting. “Oh....Sentry, did I wake you? I'm sorry, it's just...” She shifted awkwardly, gripping her upper arms and withdrawing into herself as though she were cold. “Just that I thought if I came here, to this shrine, that maybe I'd feel something...maybe it would all make sense, it would all be worth it...” Sentry cocked his head curiously, regarding the shabby, untended outdoor shrine of Selune, pitiful and lackluster even in The Moonmaiden's own light. “And you don't feel anything at all? You wonder what it was all for? Everything you lost, everything you went through?” She nodded her head. “It's stupid, isn't it? I never really even KNEW my parents and the other Sharrans were ever REALLY my friends...well...except Nocturne, really...she's the tiefling I remembered when we ate the Noblestalk...” “No, it isn't stupid.” Sentry replied, despite himself, he placed a hand gently on her shoulder. “Look at us, we were pawns to gods all our lives, our so called 'families' rang us out like dirty rags and would have tossed us aside and now that we're free of them, now that it's all over, we're just supposed to be okay.” He laughed hollowly. “Okay, Sentry, okay Shadowheart, okay Lae'zel, Astarion, Karlach, Wyll, Gale, everything you went through led up to you being a big damn hero and garnering the privilege of sacrificing even more to save a world that didn't help you when you needed it, that doesn't seem to care about you now! Sorry Kroger, sorry Jaina, sorry Octavia, you'll need to just spend a little more time on your knees in the dirt for people that made your lives hell. Sorry, Jaheira, a dead husband and a ton of friends ripped apart and thrown in the gutter just wasn't enough. Sorry Halsin, you haven't shouldered quite enough burdens in your lifetime.” Shadowheart nodded. “It is....”She screwed up her face and thought a moment, settling on the right words finally. “fucked up...isn't it?” Sentry nodded. “So if you don't feel any connection to Selune now, and hells, even if you never do....you don't have to.” He gently placed his hands on her shoulders. “Feel what you need to feel....It's alright to be angry, because this isn't fair...none of it is.” Feeling her lean close to him, he gently pulled her into a hug, rocking her softly and briefling hoisting her up off her feet. “It was never fair.”

She returned his embrace tightly. “I know this is going to sound...” She was sniffling now, warm tears soaking Sentry's neck. “like a platitude...” She squeezed him tightly. “But I'm sorry about your lover. He sounded like an absolute prick, but still he was yours and I'm sorry...” “And I'm sorry about your parents...and...hells, about the other sharrans...they sounded like pricks too, but hey, I know better than anyone that sometimes family is family.” He murmured. “And you know what? Your parents...I may not have known them....but I think they must have been so proud of you in the end. That doesn't mean shit right now, I know...but even though everything hurts, Shar didn't win. She doesn't have any control over you anymore...you freed Aylin from her, you freed yourself from her, so fuck her. Fuck that bitter old hag sitting in her little dark corner hugging her knees and sulking, trying to convince herself she broke you....I don't think she did...Because feeling like this is normal and every day from now on, even if it always hurts, every day you keep on going and find any kind of happiness, that's telling her to fuck herself.” Shadowheart smiled just a little and looked up at Sentry. “Gods your terrible at speeches....and you're terrible at comforting people....but you're not wrong. For all of us...moving forward and finding ways to be happy is our revenge.” Sentry didn't release the hug until Shadowheart did, finally stepping back and giving a small smile. “You good, then?” Shadowheart shrugged. “I think I will be...” ---- “So that's it? You're just going to pretend nothing happened?” Karlach glared at Sentry as he tended to his armor. The confrontation with The Elder Brain felt imminent now and everyone was in the process of preparing, but seeing him there, just going along with everyone else as if he hadn't betrayed them, betrayed HER so thoroughly, Karlach's temper was rising and she knew she couldn't hold her rage back any longer. “You're the ones who chose not to kill me.” Sentry replied hollowly. “You're also the ones that chose not to just deal fairly with Enver...now he's gone and there's nothing left for me.” He didn't even look up from his repairs as he spoke, his voice held no emotion. “You're also-also the ones that just waltzed into Haarlep's room and threw Jaina into that situation when I already sacrificed my dignity and well being to protect her...so there's that.” He added bluntly.

“Fuck you, Sentry! How were any of us supposed to know that!? And you went back to Gortash of all people! As if he wouldn't have sold you off as Raphael's breeding sow or whatever just so his plans could go off without a---” Karlach didn't get to finish as before she processed the movement, Sentry was on his feet and his fist connected with her nose, sending her staggering back. “You don't know what you're talking about, I recommend you keep Enver's name out of your mouth and far from that sad excuse for a Cambion's name.” Sentry spat, stepping forward as he drew himself to his full height. He still couldn't quite match Karlach, but he was imposing, there was a feral darkness to him that spoke of danger. “You don't get to play the victim, and you sure as shit don't get to demand we respect him!” Karlach shot back, her own fist slamming into Sentry's jaw, sending him sprawling to the ground. He aimed a vicious kick at her ankles, bringing her down right beside him and the two were on eachother in an instant, fingers digging into throats, tails raised in an aggressive stance, eyes burning with anger. The others were leaving their tents now to see the source of the commotion, eyes wide in shock as the bloodied tieflings rolled on the ground, punching and clawing, Sentry was even biting every now and then, blood was slicking the ground beneath them. “Let's go, bitch. You don't wanna go back to Avernus? Good! There won't be enough less of you to need to.” Sentry growled, slamming Karlach's head into the ground, only to be kneed hard in the stomach and tossed onto his back. “You wanna join Gortash so badly, you traitorous little shit? I'll send you to him first class Sword Coast Couriers direct.” Karlach replied, fingers closing around Sentry's throat, squeezing tighter and tighter. In a flurry of movement, Jaina's smooth, cool fingers wrapped around one of Karlach's arms and Wyll's warm, calloused hands around the other as the two struggled to pull her off of Sentry.

Halsin knelt down beside Sentry to help him to his feet and immediately catch him around the waist when he tried to charge at Karlach again. --- Sentry sat in his tent shortly after, healing his wounds with a look of annoyance. “Fucking bitch...She won after all, what's she so pissed about....Gortash is dead and I'm stuck here helping with the damned brain still even though I should be with him....what more does she want?” “For what she went through to mean something? Catharsis?” Astarion startled Sentry as he quietly slipped into the tent. “Was that meant to be rhetorical?” “I dunno....” Sentry bit his lip, staring miserably at the ground. “But anyway, she got catharsis and if she hadn't got sold to Zariel, she'd have been right there beside me protecting him, never met Jaina, never met Wyll....Never really appreciated her life...So uh....clearly it DID mean something.” Astarion laughed out loud, shaking his head. “Come now, Sentry, you don't actually believe that. I mean, you're beautiful and damned delicious, but if losing the chance to meet you spared me two hundred years of outright torture, being ground down to nothing, having to learn who I am again...Sorry to say it, my love, but I'd probably take the life where I don't get to be with you.” “Eh...don't apologize.” Sentry shrugged, slowly stumbling to his feet. “Sometimes I really would rather have just been born a man to begin with, born into the church of Ilmater, just been a fucking priest or something.”

“In which case you understand why Karlach doesn't feel better or feel like she won.” The elf examined his nails, leaning against one of the tent posts. He sighed and approached Sentry, gently taking his hand. “I won't pretend to understand why you did what you did, why you thought we didn't care or why he mattered more to you than we did....but...” He winced, the memory of that massive clawed creature tearing him apart, leaving his broken, torn body sprawled on the floor. He fought back the shiver of fear that threatened to overcome him. “You DID betray us, Sentry...What the hells were you thinking?”

Sentry looked away. “I love you Astarion, I really do...You understand me like very few other people do, you're beautiful, you're stronger and braver than you think you are...” He closed his eyes and sighed. “But Enver was the first. He was the first where it mattered.” He thought back to the letters, the long night time conversations as he lay on the cot in Enver's workshop and Enver tinkered away tirelessly at something or other. “I went my whole life believing no one would possibly relate to the things I'd been through, the constant violation, not even being a person....just a tool...and he did....” Sentry sighed. “He did...and so do you...and so does Halsin...But Enver was the first. I had a child with him, that was something I never thought I'd want to do after the way my father's faithful used me when I was little, but being with him made me believe it could be something good, that I could raise someone and give them the world and he would help me do it.” Sentry paused a moment and shrugged. “And then of course that world would burn at our feet, but that was beside the point.” Astarion sighed, sitting down across from Sentry. “When we confronted Gortash, he attacked us the second we walked through the door, he then proceeded to transform into some massive creature and eviscerate me. The second Karlach was disarmed, he came straight towards me and tore me apart from those massive claws...I died, Sentry. I suppose you and I have that in common too, now. Multiple deaths and all. We're very hard to keep down, I must say.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “But all that to say...Enver Gortash killed me, quite horribly too, and that reminded me of something we encountered quite some time ago.” He looked towards the strange sword Sentry had kept with him this whole time, the one that emitted strange music, the one Malta usually remained close to. “Do you remember that brain in a jar? The one that knew you?”

Sentry's face fell. He felt his stomach in knots as a handsome face with pale freckles like stars and constellations, scarred with ritual markings. Those bright violet eyes. 'I was your friend....I loved you...' “His name was Wysp....” Sentry began, slowly bringing his knees to his chest. “He worked at Sharess' Caress and he was like me.” He explained, lowering his head. He shook his head, eyes downcast. “But I didn't realize he loved me. We were friends. You know how pathetic it looks when a guy thinks the brothel worker is interested in him. I always just thought he treated me so nicely because we were friends and I was paying him.” Now that Sentry thought of it, Wysp hadn't liked Enver. He had been so concerned when Sentry had started seeing him and now even Sentry's mind was making the connection Astarion was hinting at. A sick feeling deep inside him reminded him that Wysp's consciousness had told him as much. Enver killed Wysp...and then he tried to kill Astarion...and still Sentry loved him. He knew he shouldn't, he knew he should be angry. Wysp didn't deserve that, Astarion didn't deserve that. But then again, if one was to judge another for murder, even murder done out of jealousy, Sentry would be a hypocrite. He remembered the look of shock on that woman's face as her head was relieved of her body, sailing through the air and bouncing down the stairs of her well appointed little manor. He could still feel her blood on his hands. “I'm sorry about what happened to you...I'm sorry I didn't protect you.” Astarion gave a small laugh and shook his head. “It's like I told Karlach, with Withers around, death is cheap....Besides, I should apologize as well for not protecting you. I should have followed you after The House of Hope. Maybe I couldn't have stopped what happened to you there, but I might have been able to protect you after...from yourself, I mean.” Sentry scooted a little closer, settling beside Astarion and resting his head on his shoulder, exhausted. “It's not your responsibility....You're not my keeper or anything...” He muttered. “But thank you for saying so anyway...It is my fault, but thank you for trying to make me feel like it's not.”

----- The path to The Elder Brain brought the party beneath the city once again. The tremors were getting worse now and Sentry could hear whispers deep in his mind. As they passed the trail to the temple of Bhaal, his chest tightened and he felt cold at the thought of Orin. Would Tomi carelessly store her for meat or another peace offering to the Myrkulites like Jackal? He should have gone back, he should have demanded she be given respect at least in death, but he was not of Bhaal anymore, not his chosen anymore, not even his son anymore, outcast and banished. Another failure to protect her. He was free, he was alive, she was gone and her memory was tainted by her defeat.

'You'll only keep failing me, Slaughterkin....you failed me, you failed your writhing Banespawn and its poxy-faced father....you failed your martyr-fool of a god....you'll fail your weak, simpering little friends too. See how already they mistrust you? You'll keep failing, dear brother, forever...and forever...and forever.' Her voice haunted his mind and he dug his fingernails into his flesh, hoping in vain that the pain would silence her voice. In the past, he knew the others might have noticed, might have reached out to him, but their gazes avoided him, Jaina and Wyll more distant from him than they'd ever been. Karlach's shoulder shoved his angrily as she passed him by, a glare back in his direction, and then she was with the others. He didn't snap this time, he knew he deserved it. A hand gently rested on his shoulder, the touch kind, and reassuring, the way it used to feel when Father Lorgan or Commander Mum were with him. Kroger gave him a small nod. “It'll be over soon, Sentry. Tensions tend to break once a big threat is conquered, at least that's the way it was at The Creche.” He explained, squeezing his shoulder gently. “The grief will still be there, it always is.” Sentry replied hollowly, the familiar dark chill of doubt and loneliness settling over him. “Grief hmm?” Kroger replied, looking away a moment as his mind returned to his recent encounter in Shar's cloister. “I think the thing about grief, Sentry, is that running from it or trying to lock it away makes it stronger, it feeds it...it traps you...” He looked up at the paladin. “I think you're very well equipped to face it, you charge in, you face things head on with your blade swinging. I think when this is all over, you'll confront grief and dispatch it like all your other foes.” “Like my sister?” Sentry shot back flatly.

“Some regrets haunt you.” Kroger replied. “But doesn't Ilmater teach you that bearing suffering is part of life?” He walked by Sentry's side as the decrepit Bhaalist undercity faded to deep, dark caverns. “Perhaps that's why your mentor's writings cautioned against suffering for the sake of suffering, so that you could face the suffering that couldn't be avoided.” “Ugh...this is why I never liked talking to the cleric students....” Sentry muttered, rolling his eyes. “You're punishing yourself when you don't need to, you've suffered for the things you've done. The scales can be balanced when this is all over, you've done good things on this journey, I've watched you do them. Now do good for yourself as well. What have you always wanted to do?” Sentry paused to consider as the party approached the edge of the fetid waters beneath the city, a small boat there at the waters edge. It wouldn't fit everyone, and so the party stopped to consider. “The boat will only fit five.” Jaina announced as her fingers brushed the wood, testing the sturdiness, the bouyancy. “It'll fit more than that, there's plenty of space. The githyanki are all fairly thin.” Astarion scoffed. “We need all the help we can get up ahead.” “No, it's not just a matter of space. More than five and it won't float.” Jaina protested. “And unfortunately Karlach and Halsin are right out or that number goes down to four, maybe three.” She bit her lip. “The remaining ones should divide and defend the city.” Wyll suggested. “We can meet up at Wyrm's Rock when we get the chance.” “We will require a secondary meeting place, should Wyrm's Rock prove inaccessible.” Lae'zel pointed out. “The Watch Citadel.” Jaina suggested. “It's twice as reinforced as Wyrm's Rock. If things go to hell we should bring people there for shelter. The upper city can care for the people for once.”

“I have the Orphic Hammer, I should go along to face the brain.” Kroger spoke up. “If we need Orpheus' help in the battle, we'll be prepared.” “I caused this mess, I'll go too...” Sentry stepped forward. “No one has to forgive me for what happened with Gortash, but I'll take responsibility at least...” “I'm not letting you go up there alone.” Astarion approached Sentry. “Whatever happens, I won't leave you by yourself again.” “I think I have the best chance of navigating these waters safely to the Netherbrain's lair, I'll go as well.” Jaina looked towards the boat and then back to the party. “Then I'm going with you. Besides, it's my duty as The Blade to protect this city.” Wyll joined Jaina by the water's edge. “Then it's settled, the rest of us will protect the city if things go to hell. And trust me, I have been through enough world ending catastrophes to tell you that it will go to hell.” Jaheira chuckled. The group divided. Shadowheart, Lae'zel, and Karlach in one group. Minthara, Octavia, and Gale in another, Jaheira and Halsin making up the final duo. As Sentry made his way towards the boat, Halsin reached out to take his hand gently. “Please be safe, Sentry.” He gazed intensely into the paladin's eyes. Sentry returned the gaze sadly, lost a moment in those hazel eyes, Sentry felt his guilt and pain threaten to swallow him up. He wanted to be vulnerable, he wanted to fall into Halsin's arms and cry for a moment, just forget everything, but he couldn't, he needed to see this through. “No promises....”He managed softly, squeezing the druid's hand. He gave a half smile as he stepped back. He couldn't bear the look of concern, the pure love and devotion in the druid's gaze, and he turned, letting go of his hand and hurrying to the boat. ----

The path to the Netherbrain was daunting to say the least. Sentry had spent so much of his life in darkness and squalor down in the sewers, he supposed he should have been used to it, prepared for it. But the darkness that engulfed the party in this moment was more even than the paths of the Bhaalist compound and the ground was slick with fluids much worse than blood and far more alien. Jaina's wide, luminous eyes lit up the darkness near her face, haunting and foreboding like a deep sea predator, the fin-like ridges revealed by the gaps in her robes also shimmered with a strange bio-luminescence. She moved more quietly than the others, this being quite the benefit when it came to surprising the various intellect devourers blocking the path ahead, often she could creep up and fry an entire herd of them with a well placed lightning storm before they became a problem. Kroger's fingers tightened around the orphic hammer and he breathed heavily, his wide green eyes focused on the path ahead. He knew it was unlikely freeing Orpheus would be easy, he knew The Emperor would have something to say about it, and more to the point he wasn't sure it would even be possible before they encountered the brain, a small part of him wished he'd left the task to Lae'zel, but no, he had to be strong. He was more than what Vlaakith had expected of him. The path twisted and wound until it came to a fetid shore overlooking a sea of slimy green water. Jaina peered curiously at it, raising a brow as she took a step forward. “Algae? No...something else...” She murmured as she knelt down, her fingers dipping into it. She blanched and immediately staggered back, falling backwards and scooting away. “Oh yuck! It's....it's not algae....there's something wrong with this water...”

Kroger knelt down and helped Jaina to her feet, furrowing his brow and sniffing as he got closer. “Cerebrospinal fluid...it's the liquid our brains are sort of sheltered in for lack of a better term. Though this is far more than I'm used to seeing, I admit.” The Ghustil wrinkled his nose, fighting back a convulsive shudder. “Many of our books say this sort of thing is prevalent in Ghaik colonies...which means...” “Which means The Elder Brain...Nether Brain....the big slimy thing...is in there.” Sentry concluded, joining the other two, arms folded across his chest. “So great...we found it, now what do we---AHH” He cried out, doubling over and clutching his head as the ground beneath them began to tremble. He felt himself off balance, he felt nauseous, overwhelmed, like his head was going to explode, skull shattering into a thousand bloody pieces. His vision went white. 'The stones, Sentry!' The Emperor urged in the back of his mind. Sentry guessed Kroger and Jaina could hear him too as Jaina hurried to gently steady Sentry and Kroger fumbled in Sentry's pack for the stones, pressing them into the paladin's hands. Secretly, he was grateful to them. He staggered slightly and regained himself holding out his hand with the netherstones hovering above his palm as he stared at the brain, his face set in a look of anxious curiosity as he regarded the massive being. It seemed larger, if possible, than it had been in the Illithid colony...but then, maybe he was just more afraid right now. The being throbbed and pulsated sickeningly as it gazed down upon him with cruel, sharp eyes. The Crown of Karsus loomed large atop its pink, ridged body and Sentry vaguely wondered for a moment what idiot had thought of putting it there to begin with when this was going to be the outcome...he very quickly remembered that he was that idiot and inhaled deeply, eyes darting to the side for a moment. “Fuck...” “Child of Bhaal, you have returned.” All eyes gazed up at the Netherbrain now. “You think you can atone for giving me my power by using the netherstones to destroy me, but you are wrong.” Well, that was fairly obvious, Sentry thought. In fact right now, he was regretting a great many life choices he'd previously thought would be simple or might be good ideas. “By killing Orin, Ketheric, and Gortash, you have only freed me, just as I intended...the crown is under my control alone.” “Hells...” Wyll gasped from the back of the group, staring in disbelief at the thing. “But it's got to be lying, it would have already killed you if you didn't have some kind of control over it.” He urged, looking hopefully to Sentry. “That or it likes to play with its food.” Astarion winced, taking a step back. “You brought the crown to me beneath Moon Rise Towers, Bhaalspawn, you made me what I am.” Sentry winced as he felt a tendril slither across the ground by his feet and up his body, the slimy appendage brushing against his neck and then the side of his face. “You believed the army that I amassed would become yours...You were cruel, devious....I would have followed you, you were exquisite...but then your sister destroyed you...she made you weak...” Sentry's eyes widened with true fear as he gazed helplessly into the creature's eyes. “Your lover was a fool, your sister was a mad beast, and Ketheric was a broken old man....I easily enabled their petty squabbles and when the time came, gave them the means to destroy eachother....They believed they controlled me but now it is I who gives the orders...” The tendril began to draw Sentry in and his body tensed. This is it, this is how I die...I'll see you soon Enver...at least I hope I will...fucking hell I was so stupid...

'I won't allow it. Take back control, Sentry! Dominate the brain!' The Emperor's voice pierced through his doubts and in the brief moment broken from his self pity, Sentry's nails glowed with a golden light and he raked at the tendril roughly, Ilmater's divine might in his very hands. The creature dropped him, the tendril retreating as the slimy flesh hissed and burned. Sentry stood tall again and held out the netherstones. Jaina rested a hand on his and Kroger's lay atop hers. Sentry breathed deeply, focusing on their closeness, on their belief in him. They believed in their friend even when he had proved so recently that they shouldn't, they chose to remember the Sentry who protected The Emerald Grove, who saved so many of the Elturel refugees, who freed the enslaved Ironhands. He felt a profound peace come over him. For one moment he was back in the kitchen of The Open Hand Temple, a plate of warm fry bread and honey on the table as Father Lorgan joked good naturedly about how much flour Commander Mum, Sentry, and Donnick were covered in and Commander Mum gave a pleasant, musical laugh. He felt power burning within the stones as his mind focused and cleared. Every story Jaina had ever heard from the bards in the bustling island village she and Tibs had grown up in talked about the power of love, the power of friendship, for one moment she really let herself believe that the fact that she cared for Wyll, that she forgave Sentry and loved him as a dear friend, that she and Kroger and become close, that that would be enough, that somehow, her warmth and friendship would empower Sentry and the brain would be brought to heel...But life isn't like the stories, she first realized that the very first night her very first lover had kicked her out of his chambers with the simple dismissal of 'my wife will be back soon...you should really get going...and anyway, a young woman isn't safe alone out on the streets too late at night'. She had further realized it when the only thing that staved off that wretched cough and her illness was a mindflayer tadpole. At this point, she thought, she really shouldn't have been shocked with the Elder Brain simply regarded them with cruel amusement and continued.

“The moment the illithid tadpole entered your brain, you became my pawn. Who do you think told The Chosen of the Astral Prism? Of Orpheus' power and the damage it could do? Who do you think allowed The Emperor to slip free? All according to my plan.” 'We were part of its plan all along!?' Sentry did not like how bewildered The Emperor's tone of voice was in that moment. “I only needed one Netherstone to break free and you have brought me all three!” The Elder brain declared triumphantly. “Now, my chains are broken and you will witness The Grand Design!” “No!” Kroger cried out, wide eyed, visions of the horrific Ghaik torments the Svaarsh spoke of when he and his sisters had been young flashed in his mind. His people back under their control, and this time the Istik of Faerun as well. It would be so, so much worse. He could not allow it. “Sentry, please! You have to focus!” “I'm trying!” Sentry shot back, gritting his teeth as he strained his mind, putting all his energy into focusing the stones on the crown. The stones glowed brightly again, beams of energy shooting from them, only to bounce off of the creature harmlessly. Sentry's eyes widened as the brain seemed to loom closer, he and the others staggered backwards, joining Astarion and Wyll, slowly retreating with fear as the being prepared to attack. Before it was able, a swirling portal opened behind them and The Emperor emerged, a swift casting gesture and the entire party was thrown backwards through the portal, The Emperor following behind after a slow, focused glare at The Brain.

----

The city streets rocked and rumbled beneath Octavia's feet as she and Gale arrived in the square outside Sorcerous Sundries. Minthara cursed under her breath as she kept her balance and turned to see the ground cracking. “T'skva!” Octavia yelped as she dodged out of the way of a particularly large fissure opening beneath her feet and pulling Gale with her. “What's happening!? Oh! Do you think my brother is alright?” She bit her lip with concern. “Wyll and Jaina suggested we meet at the Watch Citadel, we should make our way there, I'm sure Kroger will find us there, I'm sure.” Gale suggested. Meanwhile, it seemed they had problems of their own as Minthara backed over to the two wizards, her mace in hand as several newly formed illithids floated into view.

“We will have to fight our way there.” Minthara frowned. “ What ever happened down there, The Absolute is mounting its attack.” Octavia frowned and raised up her hand. “Ignis!” She shouted, calling a fireball to her palm and hurling it at the approaching mindflayers, injuring three of them as another crumpled to the ground, its body in flame. Minthara, not about to let the attack go to waste, reached into her pouch and hurled a bottle of grease onto the flaming illithid, the splash igniting two of the remaining three. Gale looked around the square, noting some civilians running in terror or peering out of their homes at the commotion. He murmured a spell under his breath and then spoke in a loud, projecting voice. “Make your way to The Upper City if you can, towards the Watch Citadel!” He instructed, throwing one more spell to lay an arcane shield over every person he could.

-----

As the ground beneath his feet shook, Halsin felt a cold fear in his chest as he pondered what that meant for Sentry. What had happened down there? Was he alright? He did not have much time to think on the matter, having to shake himself out of it as the air filled with screams. Intellect devourers and illithids poured into the streets, some in pursuit of civilians, others striking at the wooden doors of the various homes that lined the street. Jaheira cursed under her breath, her eyes darting subconciously towards her own home, not far from the park. A lithe armored figure dashed from the house, followed by a taller, bulkier figure in leathers, who paused a moment and raised his hands to cover the door and windows in thick vines. “Go, mother! You'll be needed somewhere else, we can handle things here.” The half elf shouted to Jaheira as her half orc brother nodded his agreement. “The little ones are safe inside, we'll keep the neighborhood from exploding.” He added. Jaheira was about to protest, but she could see another party of young adventurers coming to join her children, another half elf and half orc duo and a muscular young tiefling. She nodded. “Alright...you are prepared...but if you put yourself in undue danger, you had better hope I don't live to come give you a tanning for recklessness!” “You're one to talk about recklessness.” The half orc grinned as his sister rolled her eyes at Jaheira's words.

“Bloody hypocrite.” The half-elf added. “Will they really be alright without us?” Halsin asked quietly as Jaheira led him into the park proper, throwing up a wall of thorns between an onslaught of illithids and a group of civilians. “They will be better off, in fact. They won't feel the need to out do an old woman and her so called hero status.” Jaheira smirked. “Now, come on. We need to clear the way for these people to make their way to The Watch Citadel...and we DID promise Wyll and Jaina we would all meet there if things went south.” Halsin nodded. Sentry would be there too, he had to be. With a deep breath, he hunched over, his body awash with light as it bent and cracked into bear form, the massive creature rising to its hind legs and bringing its massive claws down on a grouping of intellect devourers. ---- The Steel Watch Foundry still burned at the docks as Karlach, Shadowheart, and Lae'zel made their way across the damp streets. The water was choppy and grey and the skies were darkening. There were screams all around as several dock workers and sailors hunched over in pain, their flesh beginning to rapidly slough off, giving way to the slick, strange skin of Illithids. “The Ghaik are hatching.” Lae'zel hissed, drawing her silver sword. “It looks like at least we're not the only ones fighting back here.” Karlach pointed out as she watched a broad, powerfully built male tiefling with long greying black hair slicing through illithid after illithid, all around him, more tieflings from teenagers to the elderly, all dressed in pirate garb engaged in the fight, blades slicing, storm magic filling the air with the thick scent of o-zone and petrichor.

A short distance away but still visible, Allandra Grey ordered her priestesses to arms as she called down lightning and raised powerful waves to bowl over the illithids who came to close to the temple. Each priestess of Umberlee wielded her magic expertly, raining death down upon their enemies. A small company of Flaming Fists, led by Tibs in his paladin armor, ushered civilians to safety. The paladin looked to Karlach and called out to her. “Hey! Karlach, right!? Where's my sister, is she safe?”

“She went after The Elder Brain with Wyll and some others. She sent us to help out here.” Karlach called back, drawing her axe and making her way over to assist. Shadowheart joined the priestesses, Selune's moonlight working in tandem with the fury of Umberlee's sea and storm. Lae'zel, meanwhile, found her place amongst the tiefling pirates, slicing down illithids without mercy, her face set in a look of fury.

---- “Miss friends, sky dark.” Nibbles announced as he padded across the camp, plopping down in front of Scratch. “It IS getting pretty dark...I'm glad you're not scared, though.” Scratch nuzzled against Nibbles' neck. “Any thoughts, Us?” He turned to look at the odd creature. “They are coming. IT IS COMING! Our friend will need. NEED OUR HELP” It replied, skittering back and forth anxiously. “Well, gentlemen...and...ah...little friend...” Malta leapt down to Scratch's side. “It seems the choice is obvious, isn't it? We need to find Mr. Ojeda and his companions...and who knows.” He stalked towards the edge of camp. “Maybe we can help out a bit as well.” “Yes! Find friends! Bite lots!” Nibbles leapt up and down eagerly. “When I used to make deliveries with Gommwick, we once went to a big building with strong walls in The Upper City, it was very important looking.” Scratch mused. “Maybe they've gone there?” “We must find them! WE MUST!” Us pranced in place, its tendrils flowing eagerly. The animals grouped up close and stood at the edge of the camp a moment, gathering their courage before they began to make their way out into the city. ---

“Well that certainly could have gone better.” Sentry winced as he slowly picked himself up from the ground within the Astral Prism. He looked to Jaina who was brushing herself off as she stood. Astarion and Wyll slowly approached, already on their feet. “Hey...maybe it's time to let bygones be bygones?” He looked to Kroger, who was shakily standing, The Orphic Hammer still strapped across his back. “I mean...in this situation, freeing Orpheus can't possibly be any worse than any other plan we've got, right?” The Emperor's expression darkned. “You STILL don't trust me? After all we've been through? I have been your guardian, your knight in shining armor--” “Yeah, which, again, was really weird as you took the form of my mum...” Sentry muttered. “I plucked you from the Nautiloid, prevented you from falling to your death...” He continued. “I have continued to protect you at no small cost to myself.” He righted himself, his tendrils rippling as though deeply exhaling. “I see now what our error was, The Elder Brain has evolved, it could detect your every thought and deflect your every movement. To out think the brain, you would need to be an illithid...” “What I told you I'm not doing.” Sentry shot back, folding his arms across his chest. “You don't need to, just give the Netherstones to me. I will face the brain by your side.” The Emperor insisted, holding out his hand. “But then why can't we free Orpheus? That seems like the perfect time to free him since we could just explain to him that we need you, that you're helping us.” Sentry argued.

“As I said, he would attack us on sight, and in that moment of distraction, that lapse in protection, all would be lost.” The Emperor replied. “But if we just explained it to him before we released him?” Jaina offered. “See reason, you can't keep him imprisoned like this forever, it's cruel.” As the two tieflings argued with The Emperor, Kroger looked up at the helpless form of Orpheus trapped in his prison of magic and infernal chains. He thought of life back at the creche, he thought of his instructor keeping him in her presence at all times, locking him in the infirmary. He thought of Vlaakith's oppressive grip on his spirt when he served her as a cleric. His fingers brushed against the shaft of the hammer at his back. It wasn't fair to keep someone imprisoned. It wasn't right to keep someone oppressed, to control them...His grip tightened on the hammer....to use them...he gritted his teeth in a look of fury. The Emperor, Jaina, and Sentry all turned in that moment, gazing wide eyed as Kroger brought the hammer down on the chains with intense fury, the mild mannered Ghustil crying out in rage as he shattered the chain. “So be it...You leave me no choice but to side with the Elder Brain....” The Emperor glared, disappearing with a snap of his fingers.

“Hey! Wait! You can't just!!!” Sentry reached out towards The Emperor, eyes wide with panic. But the illithid was gone...and now Sentry looked to Kroger, concern crossing his face. “Kroger?” Sentry took a step towards the Githyanki. “Are you alright?” Jaina asked, reaching out towards him. Kroger ignored them in that moment, staring at his prince, his breathing heavy, eyes wide and out of focus. The hammer rested beside him. His chest rose and fell anxiously and his mouth felt dry as he opened and closed it, trying to think of what he would said. “O..Orpheus?” He asked softly, reaching out towards the Githyanki, who was slowly coming to on the ground before him. The prince was imposing, regal. He had the features of a traditionally handsome githyanki male, his body covered in ornate tattoos and his eyes bright and fierce. The garb he wore was ancient, but that was to be expected. Kroger fought to find the words to say. Orpheus looked at the young githyanki before him and frowned, holding an arm out to the side, psionic energy pulsing through him as he summoned his sword to his hand and gripped it, pointing the blade towards Kroger and advancing, his glare turning on the two tieflings that stepped up beside the Ghustil to defend him if needed. “You reek of illithid, you slaughtered my honor guard...” Orpheus glared. “Yet it seems we must be allies...” He lowered his sword.

“Your majesty, I am sorry... We only did what we had to to free ourselves of the Ghaik tadpoles and to stand against The Elder Brain.” Kroger inclined his head apologetically. “Please, Kithrak Voss asked us to free you and---” “There is no freeing yourself from the tadpole! You should have surrendered yourselves to my honor guard, they would have given you an honorable end!” Orpheus snapped. “They would have freed me and I would have defeated The Elder Brain before it evolved into a Nether Brain.” He stood directly before Kroger now, bearing down on the younger Githyanki. “All this suffering...avoidable, had you only thought of anything besides saving your own skin!” Sentry frowned, opening his mouth to defend Kroger, but the Ghustil held up his hand to placate the tiefling. “That may be, my prince...But I did not consider that in the moment and now this is where we find ourselves.” Kroger spoke calmly and evenly. “I am not asking for your help for myself, I am asking for your help to stop The Grand Design.” He continued, frowning and taking a deep breath. Both Jaina and Sentry could see he was shaking just ever so subtly, doing his best to hold it back. “All I am asking now is that you help us correct these mistakes so that no more innocents are harmed and so no more Ghaik propogate.”

“Then in this we are aligned.” Orpheus nodded solemnly, sheathing his sword, but he frowned and looked away, deep in thought. “But the Ghaik was right in one thing....We cannot defeat The Nether Brain as we are now. Not even the strongest blade would cut through its mind. Only an illithid could face it...” “Then...would you bear that burden? For our people?” Kroger asked. Lae'zel would likely be furious, Kithrak Voss even moreso, but Kroger could not bring himself to offer. He was done putting himself last for gods and royals. He was done being a pawn. He could never ask that of Sentry, he knew the paladin had only just gained his freedom from Bhaal, to expect him to give his life like this would be monstrous and Jaina...she had so much to live for, Wyll and Karlach. Orpheus' eyes widened a moment and his expression journeyed from disbelief to anger to a solemn realization and acceptance. “Just as I was free...” He breathed deeply and braced himself, standing tall. “I will do it, I will sacrifice my soul to save my people and stop the grand design.” Psionic energy engulfed his hand again and he raised it to his temple, closing his eyes as a stoic expression fell across his face and his body was calm and still. “Even in my darkest hour I knew it was my destiny to save my people, but I never imagined this would be the way...” Black veins and angry dark bruises covered his face as his eyes darkened to jet black, he arched his back and threw back his head as the sickness claimed his body.

Jaina's hands flew to her mouth as she gazed in wide eyed horror, Wyll looked on solemnly, wincing and looking away at the last moment. Astarion drew back in disgust and Sentry audibly gasped, staggering backwards in shock. Kroger watched. He had to. This was, he supposed, something he would have to live with. He had read countless volumes on ceremorphosis, as was expected of any Ghustil in training. He knew he should feel a terrible sense of regret, he should feel responsible, but he knew now, after all that he had been through, all that he had seen to the contrary of everything that he had been taught, that he was no more guilty in all of this than Orpheus was. Why should it be his penance to become Ghaik? To give up the life he had only just begun to live for another leader? True, Orpheus certainly seemed to embody leadership more than Vlaakith did, he seemed to care for his people far more, but that did not make him more worthy to keep living than Jaina or Sentry, than Kroger himself. Still, he owed it to his people's savior to watch. Orpheus' body cracked and spasmed, his limbs twisting at terrible angles and the loud sounds of bones snapping breaking the still, silent air of the astral sea. His skin began to slough off of his body and his skull elongated and sprouted long tentacle appendages. This was the horror of ceremorphosis. Everything Kroger had ever learned back home could not do the true terror justice. But still, the Ghustil looked on, his gaze unbroken. He never looked away.

When it was over, Sentry quietly approached, handing the Netherstones silently over to Orpheus, inclining his head with at least a modicum of respect. “All to wield these...” Orpheus spoke quietly. He looked Kroger in the eye reproachfully. “When this is done, you must kill me. It is the very least you can do.” Kroger nodded solemnly.

[majorasnightmare]

2, 3, and 5 for dirge!!!!

YAY YIPPEE YAYYY THAAANK :D<

2. Is your OC a loner or a social butterfly? Are they satisfied with how they come across to other people?

in his pre tadpole days dirge THOUGHT he was a loner (and successfully came off as such) but he rly craves connection. he needs a small group of people to regularly interact with or else he starts experiencing shrimp color mental illness symptoms. but he rly rly is NOT a social butterfly because if he has to talk to more than 7 people in a day hes just going to start killing mfs. unfortunately his charisma score is stacked and hes quite good at casual meaningless interaction with an endless slew of NPCs so most people tend to perceive post tadpole dirge as one even if it makes him want to invent new warcrimes.

3. What is your OC's financial status? Are they just scraping by, making enough to live comfortably, or wealthy? Has there ever been a drastic change in their status? If so, what happened?

Dirge starts off stably impoverished with his adopted parents, before having a brief homeless stint with Sceleritas post The Incident, and then gets roped into Nepo Baby status once Sarevok dumps all his bank accounts into Dirges name so he doesnt have to manage payroll anymore. A good chunk of his life involved him being TECHNICALLY wealthy, but youd just never know it based on how he lives. Hes fairly comfortable with the scavenging nomadic lifestyle the party has to adapt for the plot of BG3 (and quite good at it if my never ending camp supplies has anything to say for it), but those temple bank accounts ARE still open in his name so hes technically still loaded? By the epilogue, where disability related circumstances force Minthara into making arrangements to settle into Baldur's Gate properly, hes still Upper City rich but only now has the housing to reflect it, since you know ms baenre is NOT settling for anything less than a manor as befitting her status and properly honors her partners position as a godspawn. Dirge rarely makes use of this except to source exotic alchemical reagents and to help stock an evil necromancy basement to import biological material to create chimerical abominations since Jaheira very nicely asked for him to not pull that serial killer shit in her city while shes still around. also itd make karlach sad.

overall he basically just lives like hes still paycheck to paycheck despite both him and minthara having access to stupid amounts of cash due to inheritance and excellent financial skills (casual reminder he does taxes), and is fairly resistant to changes in financial status because he just isnt that materialistic

5. Does your OC have a signature weapon and/or attack? How long did they train to master it?

Dirge USED to be a dual daggers main, using Stillmaker and Bloodthirst, and that skillset was built up alongside his general assassin repetoire during his younger years being indoctrinated into the cult, so in addition to a general proficiency with small arms combat, dirge took around a decade or so to really hit his stride with the daggers thatd become his trademark (definitely longer than orin took to reach a similar point in skill).

Post tadpole, in game he uses mostly staves alongside magic but hes actually more of a hand to hand kind of person. His signature is a closerange eldritch blast, usually as part of a combo and typically against a surface like a wall or pillar so that the rebound bounces you back into range. Essentially a punch is accentuated by an eldritch blast as it connects, with the knockback being exploited to slam targets into a surface hard enough to bounce them back into range, since as any warlock main knows you can start nailing them with 3,4,5 hits in a turn.

When the Urge overwhelms him, he goes fully feral and foregoes weapons entirely, opting to instead use natures gifts and utilize his claws and teeth on opponents instead, and thats all instintive bhaalspawn behavior for him, no training necessary. He typically aims for easily punctured vitals, but if both hands are occupied hes not above using his teeth to tear or crunch as necessary. Anyone present for the siege at moonrise was treated to a lovely view of dirge sinking his claws into the mortared stone to haul ass up to the rafters to tear archers limb from limb before pouncing from on high to rend a cultist into a fine red paste before lunging into the adjacent room on all fours like some kind of hellhound. In game he got the highest killcount out of all four party members AND jaheira so he isnt really leaving any leftovers for others to pick off (astarion got second. lmao)

[evilponds]

no one asked and sorry but thoughts on tav!cal + companions -

karlach: cal has a huge crush on her literally from the start but once she gets to know her cal is sooo completely devoted. Let-Me-Be-The-Hammer-In-Your-Hand devoted. routinely will make an idiot of herself if it'll make karlach laugh. she makes cal feel protected, which cal.. really needs, and she protects karlach in turn.

astarion: her best friend. unfortunately. hes the first person she tells about the whole "i died but it didnt take" thing, mostly because they both realize pretty quickly that neither is alive in the traditional sense. they are making each other worse and making each other better at once. cals actually largely on the same page s him regarding how much spare time they have to help out random people, but often agrees to it anyway specifically to annoy him

wyll: man cal would be a little annoyed by his whole Hero thing initially, but once she learns about his contract she realizes that what really frustrates her is that hes in essentially the same situation as her but has come out of it more willing than ever to help the people around him and it makes her have to analyze her own selfishness. she really admires him and also frankly he and karlach have both frequently stopped cal and astarion from enabling each other. and also they are wingmen for each other

gale: cal loves a nerd. i think they would kind of get on each others nerves a lot because cal can't Not be kind of a shit, and gale can't really not be a little bit of a know-it-all, but eventually it gets to be more affectionate than anything and cal does take a genuine interest in his relationship with magic. also they would loooove cooking together

lae'zel: genuinely don't think cal would know what to do with lae'zel. i think she wants to see what lae'zel will do next. i do feel theyd have a brief Thing because cal would absolutely admire her strength but it wouldn't really work out because cal isnt.. soft per se but does like a bit of softness. cal would want to know lae'zel's perspective on so many things though, she likes how forthright lae'zel is about everything

shadowheart: i think........ cal is a little skeptical of anyone who is deeply religious, even in this world lol. cal respects it and all but she would i think feel that she and SH are kind of on a similar leash, and they have had similar things taken from them (parts of their memory, for one). HOWEVER they get to be good friends and cal would loooove how judgy SH is sometimes. they would gossip with each other so much

ok im tired ill do halsin and jaheira another time

[blissfulstarsfics]

Black and White Chapter 11

Read on AO3

Chapter Rating: M

Summary: Karlach patrols Baldur's Gate for any signs that Astarion might strike, and strike he does. Tav is forced to make the most of her situation.

The sun was setting over Baldur’s Gate, coloring the clouds in shades of fiery red, soft pink, and deep orange. Karlach watched the blazing orb descend, its reflection receding off the water behind the horizon, signifying the beginning of her watch. Two tendays had come and gone since Tav was taken. Two tendays of relative peace. 

Patrons at the Blushing Mermaid drank and laughed, completely unaware of the looming threat. No one knew when Astarion would strike. The vampire had been unexpectedly generous with the amount of time he afforded them to retrieve his beloved. 

Karlach and Wyll had every intention of rescuing their friend, but the dilemma came as to whether or not they should return her to Astarion. On one hand, the city would be safe from the ascendant’s wrath. On the other, they would be condemning Tav to a life as a vampire. Could she damn one of her best friends to save the city?

The roughly cobbled streets of the Lower City abruptly morphed into smooth pavement when she entered the Upper City. It always pissed her off how well kept this part of the Gate was compared to the other parts. Growing up in the Outer City, she was used to shacks constructed on top of mud covered streets. Life there was miserable, but she made the most of it.

Mages from the Watch were also beginning their patrol, activating enchanted lamps which would light up the surroundings. The nobles must be kept safe, be it from a random thief or a small tumble. She nodded to the Watchman as he passed, about to reach her destination.

Astarion stood in the window of his palace, overlooking the city. The candlelight from inside the room flickered around him, causing the dancing shadows to accentuate his sharp, haunting features. Their eyes met and he gave her an eerie smile. 

Not long ago, Astarion had offered her hospitality in his mansion. He was an impeccable host, genial and attentive, she had to admit. When she threatened to crash his party, he took it in stride. Would he do that now? Unlike the rest of their friends, Karlach had seen how he was with and without Tav. They say vampires don’t feel emotion the way the living do, but when Astarion looked at Tav, Karlach couldn’t find any words to describe it other than love. That man loved her, vampire or not. And his love was torn away.

What a fucking shit show, she thought. Seriously, what was Jaheira thinking? All they wanted was a fun night out, swapping stories, eating, and drinking to mark their return to Baldur’s Gate. Karlach regretted agreeing to invite her. It wasn’t just the kidnapping, she ruined the whole evening with her little Klauthgrass stunt. Did she think Tav wouldn’t go straight to Astarion and tell him what happened? Or did she think Tav would actually agree to be whisked away like that?

“Don’t do anything stupid, Fangs. Please. We’ll find her,” she mouthed to the ominous figure. It repeated the same smile, the same movements as before.

“Fuck,” she shouted. Surrounding patriars perked up, giving stares of offense at the tiefling as she ran toward the Ravengard estate.

~~~~~

Rest had been infrequent for the Astarion ever since his little love had been ruthlessly stolen from him. This afternoon, he practically forced himself to trance. Tonight, he decided, would be the start of his Festival of Blood. He would need to be well rested if he wanted to put on a fitting opening ceremony. 

For once, he had relived a cherished memory of Elia instead of a nightmarish one of spawnhood. It was a memory of one of their nights at camp. In perfect detail, he saw how they laid in his tent, making plans for the ascension. Their bodies barely touched. He was so pathetic then, but she still believed in him. Made him better. Helped him ascend.

The recollection encouraged him. Astarion yearned for her to be in his arms again. Gods, he just wanted to hold her again!

But, the memory was just that; a fleeting remembrance with no impact on the now. It was a new moon tonight, perfect for his covert operation. Two birds were about to be killed tonight. His precious treasure had gone to great lengths to enact a plan for him to monopolize a natural resource. Phase one was complete, it would be remiss of him to not begin phase two.

The armor he commissioned from a drow craftswoman had a snug, but not restrictive, fit. Black as night and light as a feather, it was well suited for his mission. The hood covered all but his crimson eyes. Wearing armor again felt somewhat nostalgic. If only she were here to join him in the fun.

Inside the ballroom, his spawn had gathered. They hadn’t seen their master clad for battle before. Decked in black and armed to the teeth, they cowered in fear of their already imposing lord. Everyone remained still on their knees, awaiting his command.

“As you all know, the mistress of the house was rudely taken away from us by a trio of rogue Harpers. For two tendays, the High Harper and my former companions have chosen not to heed my warnings as to what would happen if she was not found. The time for peace is over. We will now act. What say you?” 

“Here, here!” They dare not say otherwise.

“Good. Tonight will be the first night of many. We will make this city stir in fear until our lady is brought home. Zeuril!” The mage was caught unawares. He looked too and fro before scrambling to his feet.

“Yes, master?”

“Cast an illusory image of myself in the front window. I may need an alibi.”

“At your command!” He bowed low, then ran off to make preparations. Astarion dismissed the rest of the spawn. Since the targets were inside a residence, he would be going solo. Not that he would need any backup. By the time he would arrive, the household would be fast asleep. Easy targets.

Shifting into bat form, he flew out an obscured window in the back of the palace into the moonless sky. Keeping his altitude high, he blended in nicely, leaving the watch below blissfully ignorant of any impending danger. Astarion had to take a winding route to the Foxworth mansion; flying directly ran the risk of being exposed by magelight.

He landed in the dilapidated remains of what had once been a prized garden. A few chirping crickets were the only witnesses as he picked the lock of the garden door. Astarion closed his eyes, honing in on the sounds of the inhabitants’ heartbeats. He counted seven. Such a small number! Carlo’s dearly departed wife must not have given him much of a living stipend after all.

Young Carlo had been shipped off to boarding school tendays prior, placing him out of harm’s way. Therefore, the vampire was free to let loose and take out his pent up rage on his poor, unsuspecting former rival. How to do it? Flay him? Hack off his limbs? The estate may end up looking like a Bhaalist temple when he was through.

Two pairs of feet pattered from an adjacent room. Astarion climbed the walls, affixing himself to the ceiling. A maid and a butler rushed into the room, fiercely entwined. How scandalous! He watched on as the girl laid back on the couch, speculating as to whether or not she would notice him dangling above them. 

As the butler fussed with his clothes, Astarion’s thoughts drifted for a moment. What would he do if he found his staff doing similar on his furniture? Probably make a meal out of them for making him and his love sit on their aftermath. Just this once, as a parting gift, he would do the soon to be defunct lord a favor.

Pulling down his mask, he let himself fall onto the lovers below. The maid’s yelps of surprise turned into shrieks of terror when he plunged his dagger into the butler’s neck and began sucking out the rich, hot liquid. He would leave no incriminating bite marks on this night’s victims. A few slashes to the girl’s throat silenced her annoying shrills. Ah, to die in the arms of your lover. 

Two down, five to go. There was stomping overhead, some murmuring, and the aura of infernal energy. Let’s see if they can put up a decent fight. Three servants came down the stairs, one holding a candle, the other two completely unarmed. Such a coward, Foxworth. Sending in fodder so you can make your grand escape, he thought. 

They quaked in the dimly lit room, weeping and clinging to each other as they awaited confrontation from an unknown entity. Poor things. Astarion deduced it would be his lordly obligation to grant them quick deaths. Keeping low, he snuck up to the one straggling behind. He covered her mouth and stabbed her repeatedly. Yes, he had decided on quick deaths, but he still had to send his message.

When the other two turned, they saw their coworker dead and bloody. Killed by a shrouded man with blood trickling down his chin. One started to run, but was easily stopped by a dagger thrown into her back. The other was so frightened, she lost hold of her candle and managed to set herself alight. Astarion stepped over her as she immolated to retrieve his weapon.

The last two heartbeats were heading to a separate exit. It amused Astarion how they thought they could outrun his superior speed. Just as they were about to enter a servants’ passage, he clapped them on the shoulders.

“Oh, hello!” he cheerily greeted. They jumped into defensive stances.

“Te execro!” Mariana slammed her palm into Astarion’s chest, in an attempt to hex him with her patron’s power. The warlock tilted her head in bewilderment, “Te execro!” Again, no effect. Astarion took hold of her neck, maniacally laughing, showcasing his fangs. He jammed a dagger into Foxworth’s knee, sending him to the ground.

“My dear, I’m already dead. Your little hexes have no effect on me,” Astarion spun the girl around, slicing her throat open just enough that she would slowly bleed out, “Have fun in the Blood War!”

Foxworth howled in agony and horror. His partner convulsed and squirmed until she at last went still. Her lifeless body landed on the floor with a loud thud.

“What in the hells, Astarion, you’re a vampire?” he cried in disbelief.

“And a damn powerful one at that,” he knelt next to the lord, “I’m going to take my time with you, Carlo. You should never have gotten in my way,” he flashed his dagger in front of the human’s face, “And you never,” he poked, “should have,” another poke, “come onto my woman.” The razor sharp edge slowly penetrated the man’s bowels. Foxworth begged for Astarion to stop as he sawed through his intestines. Gloved fingers yanked his head back, brown eyes staring into red. It was the last thing he saw.

“Aw,” Astarion pouted, “I thought you’d last longer.” Disappointed, he retraced his steps back to the garden, where he took flight back to the Crimson Palace.

Alone in the armory, he took elvish form. Had she been here, she would have congratulated him on a job well done, helped him out of his armor, and assisted him in washing the blood and grime away. Her touch would excite him, then he would pin her against the wall, making love to her. 

“Elia,” he whispered into the emptiness. Her true name, which only he was permitted to use. The hole in his heart was becoming a bitter void that was devouring his mind and spirit. Tonight was only the beginning.

And the tamest.

~~~~~

Two tendays ago.

Magics roiled around her, enclosing her, and then nothing. One moment she was at the Elfsong, the next she was in the middle of a field. It was too dark to make heads or tails of their exact location, not that she would have been able to in her mildly disoriented state. Running wasn’t an option. While fleeing was her first thought, the effects of the herb hadn’t entirely worn off. Any attempt at escape would immediately fail.

“The safe house is here. We can rest and resupply.” The elf beckoned his human companions through a hatch leading to an underground shelter. He beckoned to Tav as well, who not so politely declined. The mage shrugged, then created a globe around their surroundings. The barrier crackled with energy that threatened to shock whoever touched it. Nothing was getting in or out.

Where in the hells were they? With the protective barrier in place, Tav opted to remain outside. She wouldn’t trust herself to be alone in a cramped space with these people. Who knows what else they were capable of? Below, she could hear whispering but couldn’t make out what they were saying.

She sat on the ground, hugging her knees to her chest. Listening closer, she could hear angry inflections in the humans’ voices. No doubt they were demanding to know why their elf friend deliberately disobeyed Jaheira’s orders. The elf spoke in a calm, pastoral tone which seemed to work on his companions. It sounded like they were planning their next move, though again she couldn’t make out details.

Very well, if they were plotting then so would she. This wouldn’t be the first time she pulled an all-nighter in the open. It would give her time to think. 

Dawn came, bringing clarity of mind and surroundings. Familiar grasses and wildflowers gave her a hunch as to where they may be: Pelleor’s Prairie. It seemed the mage might have taken them across the Western Heartlands. If that was the case, Tav knew she would be unable to survive on her own.

Food, water, and shelter was scarce in these parts. Also, if starvation, dehydration, or exposure didn’t finish her, some monster most definitely would. Although Tav wasn’t as gifted in the weave as Gale, she did know a number of stealth magics (most spells she utilized were stage related). In theory, she could make herself invisible, but again that would not hide her scent. With no blades, and what minimal spells she had at her disposal being useless, Tav knew she had no options. Crestfallen, Tav willingly departed with her kidnappers.

Where they were going was a complete mystery. Her Harper captors refused to let the subject be broached. If she asked, they would give her a nonanswer such as, “someplace safe” or “where the vampire can’t hurt you.” Replies that were equally annoying and amusing. The vampire wasn't going to hurt her. However, they signed their own death warrants the moment they laid hands on her.

When confronted with why they kidnapped her, the elf mage would sweetly tell her, “Destiny.” His human cohorts would nod along venerably. The female touched her arm gently and told her, “You can trust Carvalur. He has never been wrong.” The way she spoke about the elf reminded her of how the cultists revered the Absolute. It was unsettling.

After a day-long trek, the end of the grassland was in sight. Marshes and forests came into view, as did the impressive mountains which guarded the fabled city of Evereska. The fortress home must have been their final destination.

Hope wasn’t entirely lost. Little did they know that Evereska was well known to the bard. Inside the temple of Hanali Celanil, her mentor maintained a shrine to his patron deity, Melira Taralen. The old man took on a grandfatherly role, expanded her knowledge of music, and even taught her a thing or two on espionage. His shrewd and insightful nature gained him employment as a spy by the Hill Elders a number of times. 

This was good. She could work with this. Another day or two and they would reach the city proper. There, she could formulate a plan back to Baldur’s Gate. For now, she would bide her time.

~~~~~

“Karlach!” The tiefling felt herself being shaken. 

“The fuck, Wyll, I just laid down,” she groaned, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. The ranger’s sullen, bleak expression said everything. “How bad?”

“He massacred a minor lord’s house. The Watch is still investigating.” Wyll sat next to her on the bed. Neither said anything, but words were unneeded. Astarion had made good on his promise, now it was up to the city to deal with the ramifications.

The pair left the Ravengard estate and went to see if they could assist with the matter. A crowd had formed outside the manor that was wasting no time floating speculation about what happened. Some people couldn’t resist gossipping. 

Thanks to Wyll’s name and connections, they were given an introduction to the head investigator. When they discovered the identity of said investigator, it inspired very little hope.

“I remember you two. Come to meddle in another of my cases?” The hollyphant was as chipper as ever.

“Good to see you too, Valeria.” Wyll smiled wryly. 

“Fuck me,” Karlach sighed, “If you’re on the case, it’ll never get solved. I’ll bet you’re already writing up a shoddy report so you can get back to the bottle you left at Sharess’s Caress.” A chestnut skinned gnome with light colored curls came out of the crime scene, wiping her hands.

“You’d be correct, if I wasn’t here to keep things in line,” she stuffed the filthy rag away, “Godsdamned mess in there.”

“Blaze Devella! It’s definitely good to see you!” Relieved, Wyll’s mood improved significantly. It was her persistence that helped unveil the Bhaalist murders, while Valeria was content to let the matter wash down like a bottle of Esmeltar Red. 

“And you as well, Wyll,” she shook his hand, “There’s not much I can tell you right now. Whoever did this was good. Very good. We can’t find a point of entry, or a footprint, a fingerprint, nothing. It’s like they were killed by a ghost.”

“A very slash happy ghost.” Karlach balled her fists. This was awful, just awful. She didn’t know who she blamed more for the incident, Astarion or Jaheira. If only she hadn’t put that fucking Klauthgrass in Tav’s wine.

“That’s one way of putting it,” Devella seemed to welcome the sarcasm, “Anyway, Wyll, let your father know we’ll be doing what we can. This may take a while.”

“Take all the time you need.” He gave her a polite bow, and Karlach a glance that said, “But not too much time.” The inspectors went back to their investigation, leaving the pair to fret over what happened and what will happen next. Karlach looked over the crowd. So many anxious faces. Astarion had succeeded in sowing fear in the Upper City.

“That brazen bastard. Look.” Wyll nodded to Karlach’s left and there he was, playing the concerned citizen. Their eyes locked. His cold, sinister gaze sent a shiver down her spine. They needed to stop him.

“He’s gloating,” she snapped her head toward Wyll, “Come on. He’s got round one. We gotta figure out how to stop rounds two, three, and four from happening.”

~~~~~

Upon reaching the tunnels to Evereska, Tav’s luck went from bad to worse. First, the man and woman forced some sort of magical bracelet on her which shackled her to Carvalur. Then, when the guards questioned the mage about the Harpers’ business in the city, he was quick to throw her under the cart. 

“We’re transporting a woman enthralled by a vampire. For her safety, she is to remain under the protection of the Harpers until the effects wear off.” The mage pulled some paperwork out from under his cloak and handed it to the guard. 

“All right,” the guard folded the paper, “Why bring her here?”

“Distance. And being back with her people may expedite her healing.” The mage exchanged glances with the guard, “If you’re worried about my charge causing trouble, there’s no need. She’s bound to me.” Carvalur held up his wrist to show a magical bracelet. The guard nodded, allowing them through. Tav stood firmly in place.

“What in the hells? You believed that? I’m being held against my will by these people! This is all made up! My lover isn’t a vampire!” The humans took her arms, forcibly dragging her into the city. She cried in desperation, “Let me go! Please!” Yet no one would listen.

And that’s where she was after two tendays; Trapped, enervated, and viewed as a madwoman. The days were lonely. Carvalur and his crew would leave her for hours at a time, held captive by chains and silencing spells. 

Day turned to night. The trio returned near midnight, with them was a group of around ten people. The man and woman sat Tav on a stool, binding and gagging her.

“Brother Raf, Sister Jhoie? Is that truly necessary?” one of them asked. So, those were their names. Twenty days and this is how they introduce themselves. At the first opportunity, Tav was going to have to teach them some manners.

“She is very ill, brother,” the woman, Jhoie, went to smooth back Tav’s hair. The bard balked at her touch.

“Prophet Carvalur says to give her time. Correllon Larethian has spoken to our great seer, so it shall be. She is destined to be one of us.” This Raf person seemed awfully sure of himself.

Oh, for fuck’s sake, she internally swore. The great prophet had told her their meeting was destiny. Perhaps he was right. Destiny had used her once to put down a cult. This little circle was about to learn just how effective she was at it.

What does all this mean for Baldur's Gate?

Thank you for reading!

[a-drama-addict]

can i get alone, betrayal, break, ghost, hide, pain, and skin for my friend sigrid

hihohihio we're hurting my daughter today everyone gather 'round [ask game]

alone: How does your OC deal with loneliness? Have they ever been completely alone before? How do they act when there's no one around to see them?

Sigrid doesn't feel lonely easily. She usually feels fine on her own, at least she thinks so. She wants to be fine alone. Big groups unsettle her, closeness unsettles her. Yet Sigrid yearns for it all the same, when she's completely alone she gets anxious. She'll scratch her arms, walk around in circles, almost like a caged animal in a sense. But if she's alone, just temporarily, she's fine. She enjoys moments to herself.

betrayal: Has your OC ever been betrayed by someone they thought they could trust? Has your OC ever betrayed someone who trusted them?

Hmmm I don't think Sigrid has really betrayed someone herself. But she's definitely been, and felt, betrayed. Orin, directly honestly. Sigrid really cared for Orin when they were both Bhaal's child, when they were together a lot. Sigrid didn't expect to be... Tadpoled by Orin. She may not have remembered for a really long time, but when she does, it's definitely betrayal.

She's felt betrayed by Karlach, but that doesn't mean she was actually 'betrayed.' Hearing that Karlach accepts her fate whenever they talk of it is like a punch to the gut. Sigrid doesn't want Karlach to die, Karlach doesn't deserve death, and to hear Karlach be okay with her life ending like this because it's with people she cares about in a place she loves? Sigrid understands, but she doesn't want to hear or think of it.

break: What would cause your OC to break down completely? What do they look like when that happens? Has anyone ever seen them at their lowest?

Hm. I think death terrifies Sigrid ironically enough. She feels this imminent dread thinking of her own demise, or the demise of ones she cares about. I think she'd break down if she were gravely injured, begging almost not to die. She wouldn't want to leave the world when she feels she only just discovered herself.

And people definitely have seen Sigrid at her lowest. Act III is NOT a sexy time for Sigrid. Sigrid in has a full on breakdown in the beginning-ish of act III when she discovers she's a Bhaalspawn- staying up all night in a frenzied panic attack. Sigrid's little breakdown buzzcut isn't even necessarily done by herself- she was tearing out her own hair out of stress. And her pacing eventually woke Jaheira, who offered to... help after Sigrid had calmed down enough. (POV: my mom cuts my hair after i tear my hair out during a breakdown)

ghost: Who or what haunts your OC? What happened? How do they live with their ghosts?

Sigrid's past. She doesn't remember everything of course, but the thought of what she has done is enough. She's heard second-hand what she's caused, thousand deaths- cannibalism, necrophilia- it's not the nicest things to hear about yourself. Even if she wasn't in full control it wasn't... not her. It's her regardless of who was in 'control'. She regrets her past life the most. And quite honestly she deals with it by just... talking? Whenever she feels like she needs to she can talk, she writes, she paints. Sigrid tries to forgive herself but it's hard.

hide: What does your OC hide? Why do they hide it?

Sigrid doesn't hide much, but she usually tries to hide the scar on her throat post-game. That scar- and the one across her face- were acts she had done for Bhaal, as a form of worship. Offering blood to your Father, can't beat that. She wears bandanas, turtlenecks, scarfs.. anything that hides it. The one across her face is a little harder to hide.

pain: What's the worst pain your OC has ever felt? Do they have a high pain tolerance?

hmmm.. Probably when she was in the Mindflayer colony with Kressa Bonedaughter. Being cut open and put back together repeatedly over the course of several days, during which she was unable to speak or do anything but attempt to inflict violence on herself or others, was not the most pleasant time to say the least.

Sigrid does have a high pain tolerance, but she isn't... happy about that. Gods only know how she built that tolerance.

skin: How comfortable is your OC in their skin? Do they grapple with anything that lives inside them—a beast, a curse, a failure, a monster? How do they face the smallest, weakest, most horrible version of themself? Are they able to acknowledge it at all?

Ah, Sigrid hates her body at times. In Act I she felt detached to it, like it's a vessel that acts against her thoughts. She doesn't want to acknowledge anything was wrong, because why would it be?

In Act III she definitely still grapples with herself, she acknowledges her past, that her body is wrong in a sense. She was brought back and came out wrong, but not worse than she was before. Sigrid can't think of herself at her worst days, but tries to improve on her best.