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underdark-dreams · 1 year ago

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[ch1] - [ch2]

A Strand to Climb - Ch.3

Rainstorms, hard conversations, and long-awaited kisses.

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Pining | Word Count: 4,189 [Read on AO3]

In a lucky turn of events, Lorroakan was called away from the Tower earlier than usual. Perhaps more Nightsong business connected with Tav’s visit today.

More likely a soiree in the Upper City with the newly ordained Archduke Gortash and the city’s elite, Rolan thought to himself. Those were the parts of archwizardry that seemed to agree with his master the best.

Whatever the reason, his evening’s lessons were abruptly canceled—as Lorroakan’s projection materialized for a few seconds to unceremoniously inform him. Rolan felt his aching head throb with relief. He’d just been given a night of escape.

When the closing hour’s bells rang out from Stormshore Tabernacle, Rolan fastened up the shop in record speed.

Rather than head to his siblings’ rented flat, Rolan carved a path toward the Elfsong. It was still early yet—Cal and Lia wouldn't expect him for hours, if they expected him at all tonight.

A bit early to be visiting the tavern, as well. But watching the gray and downcast weather through the doors of Sorcerous Sundries all day had left him thirsty. Rolan breathed in the cloud-thick and misty air as he walked.

Even for the early hour, the main taproom of the Elfsong was almost completely empty. All the better; fewer chances at unwelcome stares and comments.

Despite having his pick of the entire floor, he slumped into a small table in the farthest corner possible and spilled a few coppers on its surface in preparation. He’d been ready to drink this day away for hours.

"Chancing murder this fine afternoon?"

As if summoned, a cup of Arabellan Dry appeared in front of him. Lakrissa plucked his coin from the table in the same motion.

Rolan’s work had left him little time to follow the city’s goings on. But he did recall something the Gazette's paper boys had been shouting in the courtyard this morning—the most recent in a string of grisly murders, apparently occurring just above his head.

No wonder the place was deserted.

"Can hardly be worse than what's behind us," Rolan said glumly, raising the cup to his lips without missing a beat.

Lakrissa plopped herself down at his table uninvited. "I expected to see your lover with you tonight."

"My—" It was different hearing someone else say it aloud; he coughed slightly into his wine.

“Cal told me she made it to the city,” Lakrissa explained.

Apparently Cal had taken the liberty of telling her everything else while he was at it.

"Of course he did." Rolan huffed a sigh. He supposed it was good that his siblings kept in contact with old friends from the road…but could they find nothing more interesting to talk about than his personal life?

"She's pretty," Lakrissa said, as if the compliment was somehow directed at him. "Brave, good fighter…good heart. How exactly you pull that off?"

Her candor would've insulted him, had he not asked himself the same question many times today alone. "No idea," Rolan said, unshouldering the heavy weight of his ego for just a moment.

"Hm. But you're hiding alone in a tavern, instead of off with her."

"I am not hiding," Rolan glowered at her, though he really was—and for the second time today no less. "I just needed to think, that's all."

"Ah…I get it." Lakrissa swung her bar towel over one shoulder. "She’s seen you."

For all of the times Rolan had visited the Elfsong Tavern while Lakrissa was waiting tables, she'd never commented on the ever-shifting landscape of wounds on his face. She was the type to keep her nose out of other peoples’ business, whether from discretion or from genuine disinterest.

Either way, Rolan appreciated it about her. He got enough prying and questions from his siblings anytime he went home; the last thing he needed was to be interrogated while he was trying to drown his sorrows.

Perhaps that was why Rolan felt he could ask her the next question. If nothing else, Lakrissa was a realist.

“Be honest. If you were her, seeing me like this—" he gestured a hand stiffly in the direction of his aching face. "What would you think?”

Lakrissa propped elbows on the wood table to support her chin, regarding him in her casually thoughtful way. "I'd think that your apprenticeship with that wizard isn't going too well. But that you must have a good reason for staying."

That seemed more optimistic than he could hope for. Would Tav respect his reasons the same way? Surely she must know by now that he'd take much worse for the opportunity he'd been handed, if that's what it took. He didn't put Cal and Lia through everything he had on the journey here just to give up now.

But for a moment, Rolan pictured what it might be like in reverse. Watching a mad narcissist like Lorroakan lay hands on her; watching her willingly return for more. His knuckles gripped pale around his cup.

Rolan surfaced quickly from that disturbing image. "Sure she wouldn't see a pompous idiot who’d bragged to anyone who would listen?"

Lakrissa tipped her head in a way that suggested she saw his point. "You've never struck me as an idiot, though. How about this, then—I’d see the man who stepped up to get his people through a nightmare and safely to Baldur’s Gate.”

Rolan swirled the wine in his cup, watching the waves gloomily. “She’s the one who made the way safe for us. You know that.”

“You’re so—” Lakrissa leaned back from the table with a laugh. “Gods. For a smart bloke, Rolan, you can be so stupid. I respected Zevlor,” she told him with sudden emphasis, as though Rolan might think she didn't. “All of us did. He’s the one who got us out of Elturel when half of them wanted to chuck us right back into Avernus. And I’ve no idea why he left us, or whether he’s even alive—” A rare wrinkle of emotion appeared between her brows. “But I do know that you were there. Alfie told me all about how you protected the kids and got everyone to Last Light after…everything.”

"Alfira's a bard," Rolan told her, as if she of all people needed reminding. Foolish dreamer was the actual term that came to mind, but he suspected Lakrissa was the type who would smack people for rudeness. "I've no doubt she exaggerated."

"Oh no, she said you were a complete ass about it," Lakrissa replied matter-of-fact. "And that you spent most of your time drinking the Harpers dry before Tav showed up."

Rolan's pride stung at the comment, but he couldn't exactly deny it. Lakrissa went on. "That doesn't change the fact that you kept them safe. You saved people’s lives, Rolan."

He let out a bitter laugh. "It was only me because all the good ones were already dead."

They stared at each other in silence for a beat.

"That's a pretty shit thing to say,” Lakrissa said quietly. “About them, and about yourself."

Rolan looked down at the dark liquid in his cup, but he couldn't think of anything nicer to say on the subject. He was finding it hard to be nice about anything these days.

"You're a hero, Rolan," Lakrissa told him simply. "And so is she. I reckon the two of you can figure it out…you deserve to give her a chance, at least."

Rolan only let her advice wash over him in silence. When Lakrissa shifted, he saw her grimacing over his shoulder.

“Damn. Alan’s giving me the eye—ugh, like there's anyone else to serve anyway—”

But she rose, and Rolan was ready to return to his glass until he felt a hand rustle between his horns—the way he'd often seen Tiefling parents do to their children back home.

“When you do see her, send her by?” Lakrissa asked. “I still owe her a drink.”

—

Rolan left the Elfsong a few minutes later. He found the wine had done little to quiet his troubled head, and something in Lakrissa’s pointed speech had made him feel too guilty to stay any longer.

As he stepped out through the tavern’s wide oak doors, a chill rustled through his robes. The storm was rolling angrily up from the port now.

Rolan kept his head down against the breeze that pushed much sharper and colder through the streets than before, sweeping river mist off the roiling Chionthar and plastering it against his face and hands. He thought wistfully of his good cloak—currently sitting useless in his room at the Tower.

Even after weeks in Baldur's Gate, Rolan was still learning to anticipate the rapid changes in weather that could descend on them from proximity to the coastline. Elturel was set deeper inland; they never got sudden squalls like this.

The few others he encountered in the streets were also rushing to their destinations with bowed heads, or else frantically boarding up their stalls against the oncoming storm. As he glanced up at the clouds again, a large, foreboding drop landed on his brow.

Rolan ducked down an alleyway south past the print shop. Not normally a shortcut he'd take at twilight, especially through Heapside. But any cutpurse stupid enough to be out in this weather would be easy to dispatch.

Within its walls, the narrow space muffled the sounds of the city. Rolan could practically smell the electricity crackling through the stormclouds above as he walked. All of a sudden there was a blinding flash, a clear peal of thunder, and rain erupted on top of him.

Sheets of it swept down like curtains with breathtaking ferocity, drumming loud against roofs and cobblestones and smothering the warm light from any street lamps he hurried past. His robes were soaked through almost instantly. Rolan swore and raised an arm to shield his vision against the rivulets already running from his hair.

Despite the shortcut, the path to Cal and Lia’s took longer than usual. Small rivers were forming through the streets from the rapid downpour, and the cobbles grew slick under his boots. Rolan had to catch his balance against stone walls and fences a few times. The clatter of rain and thunder was so deafening he could almost feel his brain rattling around inside his skull.

When Rolan stepped under the footbridge around the corner from home, the muffled reprieve made him let out a breath of relief. He paused for a moment to wipe the rain from his forehead and eyes, even wrung out the ends of his hair.

With his head tilted so, he caught sight of a cloaked figure standing on the doorstep to his siblings’ front door.

Where he stood was cast in shadow—combined with the thick curtains of rain falling between them, Tav hadn't noticed him yet, though they were standing just a few meters apart. She was squinting up at the number above the doorpost. One hand reached from under her cloak to knock, but she paused halfway through the motion as if second-guessing herself.

Was she just looking for Cal and Lia? Or had she somehow known Rolan would be here? But that didn’t make sense—even he hadn’t expected to spend a night with his family until a few hours ago.

Rolan stared at Tav’s upturned face, watching her lashes flutter as she blinked away a few droplets of rain. His heart leapt against his ribs from a bewildering mixture of love and fear.

“Rolan?”

Despite the downpour around them, her voice reached Rolan’s ear with a clarity that made him start where he stood.

She was peering at his figure through the curtain of rain between them. Then she rushed forward without a word, and before Rolan could react, her body collided against his wet robes with a smack.

He found himself immediately enfolded in her familiar scent as her cheek pressed against his. Rolan's arms circled to hold her of their own volition, every other tumultuous thought conveniently swept from his head.

Then she drew back, and she leaned up to kiss him.

Her lips were warm and welcoming as hearthfire. Rolan shivered slightly as he realized just how much the wind and rain had chilled him. When her mouth grazed a spot of broken skin, he flinched back at the sting.

"Oh." She stepped away as though he’d burned her. "I—sorry."

"It's not that," he told her. Unbidden, his hand reached toward the edge of her cloak to find one of hers.

Their fingers hooked together finally, and she inhaled in surprise. "Rolan, you're freezing! How long were you out in this?"

Without waiting for his answer, she tugged him forward to the door on the corner. She neglected to knock and simply reached for the latch, and the two of them spilled across the threshold in tandem with another peal of thunder.

Lia leapt up from the table, her shortsword at the ready and polishing rag in hand. Cal’s face appeared in the kitchen doorway, looking equally alarmed. The four of them stared at each other as rain poured into the doorway.

“For hell’s sake—”

Lia darted forward, and for a wild moment Rolan half-expected to be caught up in a hug. But she only pushed past him and wrenched the door shut against a fresh gust of rain, drawing the bolt across.

Muffled silence blanketed the room around them. After being out in the storm, it made Rolan’s ears ring. Beside him, Tav pushed her cloak’s hood back to her shoulders.

“Sorry about that,” she told his siblings with a breathless smile.

It triggered a flurry of activity. Lia was drawing her into the room, whisking her cloak off to hang it near the hearth to dry. Cal plunked a large cast iron pot of something steaming onto the central table—a good bit of it spilled over the side—and began poking around in cabinets to find another bowl. They were both talking over each other to Tav the entire time.

Rolan found himself rather left out of it all, and a bit indignant at the fact.

He spread his palms wide to either side, dripping a path across the floor in the process. “Hello?”

“Oh—” Cal blinked over at him as though just noticing he was there. “Hi, Rolan.”

Lia made no response, suddenly busying herself with putting away her whetstone and sheathing her sword. The cool reception wasn’t lost on him.

“Nice place,” Tav remarked, stretching her hands appreciatively toward the fireplace.

“It’s really not,” Cal said cheerfully. “But it’s better than we hoped, really. All paid for by that bast—”

“Hungry?” Lia interrupted, looking pointedly at Tav and not her older brother. Tav exchanged an uncertain glance with him.

“Not for me,” she answered. “But thanks, and thanks for the invitation. It’s good to see you both well.”

Rolan caught her eye. “Lia and I caught up the other day,” she explained.

“About what?” Rolan asked, unable to stop himself.

Finally, Lia leveled a stare at him. “Take a guess.”

She and Rolan looked at each other in silence for a tense moment. Internally, he was fitting together the pieces of Tav’s visit to the Sundries.

“Anyway,” Tav interrupted slowly, “Rolan and I were actually just hoping for a place to talk.”

“Ah—right. Should we step out?”

Cal’s voice sounded a bit strained; maybe he assumed that ‘talking’ was some kind of euphemism. The thought made Rolan’s ears grow warm under his hair, but Tav responded before he could open his mouth.

“Don’t be ridiculous, you two can’t go out in all this.” Her face turned toward Rolan, questioning. “Do you have a room we could go to?”

He nodded wordlessly and started down the hall. The fact that Lia and Cal both refrained from comment was a surprise—one that he felt grateful for. Perhaps they’d finally picked up on the tension between the two of them.

Rolan held the door to his bedroom open for her and followed her inside. He felt around for the candle sconce near the doorway and lit it with a word.

The space was small and plain, but quite clean; his duties didn’t allow him to spend many nights here. Even the narrow bed along the wall was still neatly made from last week.

As she reached to lock the door behind them, she turned to Rolan. “Do you keep clothes here?”

“What are you talking about?” He cringed at how bluntly his own words came out.

Without explaining, she slipped the small pack from her shoulders and tossed it to the floor. Then she swept past him toward the wardrobe and began rifling through its contents.

“Here—” She tossed a set of clean clothes onto the bed. “Change into these. Towel?” Not pausing for an answer, she dug for one at the back of the shelf and added it to the pile.

Rolan frowned at her back defensively. “I can take care of my—”

“Rolan, please just shut up,” she interrupted. She was still turned away, but there was a slight tremor in her voice. “We have a lot we need to talk about. And I can't concentrate with you looking like a wet cat.”

Rolan glanced down at his robes; droplets from the hem were steadily forming a small puddle between his boots. His combined appearance must be pitiful indeed at the moment. Too embarrassed to protest further, Rolan began working at the fastenings of his garments.

Though she'd seen him entirely naked before, something about this moment felt even more intimate somehow. He undressed silently as the muffled rainstorm continued against the shuttered window of his room.

As he removed each soaked layer, she kept her gaze averted to respect his privacy. Rolan did catch her glancing at him a few times when she thought he wouldn't notice, but there was more concern than desire in it. As if she was checking him over.

It did feel much more comfortable to slip a dry tunic and trousers over his chilled skin. Before he set his wet robes aside, Rolan turned away as if folding them in order to retrieve her handwritten note from the pocket. Rain had smudged the ink a bit, but the three most important words were still legible. He exchanged it for the dry pocket at his hip.

The leather tie from his hair—the same one she'd used that very first night—was slipped off and into his pocket as well.

Then he moved to sit on the edge of the bed and began roughly scrubbing at his wet hair with the towel, as if the force might inject some courage into his skull. His mind was currently swirling with uncertainty of what she would say next.

Rolan caught her eye from behind his loose strands of hair. To his very great relief, her expression softened.

“Let me—”

In a flash, she had curled up cross-legged behind him on the bed and was taking the cloth from his hand. She smoothed his hair back and squeezed rainwater from the ends.

Her touch was much gentler than his own—the gentlest thing he’d felt in weeks. Rolan closed his eyes at the feeling of her fingers combing against his scalp. He found himself very grateful she couldn't see his face. If this was the most she ever wanted to touch him again, he thought he could almost be satisfied.

“I spoke with Lorroakan today.”

Rolan sat quiet for a moment. “I know.”

“You’ve got more magic in one hand than that charlatan has in his whole fucking body.”

Her bluntness caused his lips to twitch with an unwilling smile. “I know,” Rolan repeated, more confident this time.

The fingers in his hair paused; he could practically feel her eyes boring into the back of his head. “Rolan, is that why he's doing this to you? Hurting you?

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Rolan told her. Making sense of Lorroakan was futile. He had stopped trying long ago, to save his own sanity. Even now, her questions stirred up an anxious frustration in his chest. “Does it matter?”

There was a soft rustle as she scooted sideways into his sight line—Rolan glanced over to see her brow wrinkled in a sad expression.

“How can you say that?” She replied. “Of course it matters what happens to you, Rolan.”

There was not a trace of insincerity in her face. Rolan found he badly wanted to kiss her again. Instead, he bowed his head toward the floor.

“This is just how it is,” he told the floorboards. “It won't be forever. I'm strong enough to bear much worse than this, you know.”

“I know you are—” Her fingers resumed their work in his hair, gently tugging and working at a small knot. “The point is you shouldn't have to.”

She was right, of course. He had no logical defense against her words. The room lapsed into silence instead. Beyond the walls, blustering sheets of rain continued to buffet against the roof tiles and window panes.

Tav spoke up behind him again. “Some of those bruises are old. You aren't healing yourself at least?”

She gave his skill more credit than he deserved. “I’m still learning how,” Rolan admitted glumly, glad again to be facing away from her.

In truth, healing scrolls were what he'd been searching for that night Lorroakan had accused him. If only he could see the techniques for himself—he was certain he could master them. The archmage had conspicuously neglected to allow any lessons on abjuration magic thus far.

The mattress behind him shifted as Tav rose. Rolan watched her move to snatch up her pack from the corner, then barely managed to catch it as the object sailed toward his lap.

“Take those,” she said as she clambered back up behind him to continue gently toweling his hair. “Keep them here, study from them whenever you want. They're yours.”

Rolan felt a thrill of pure excitement as he peered down into the leather bag—and found it filled with a score of tightly bound spell scrolls. This small cache was worth more gold than he’d ever seen together in one place.

He pulled one out to examine its formidable wax seal. “Where did you get all of these?”

“Um…don't worry about it.”

“Stolen,” he finished dryly.

Her tone grew playfully defensive behind him. “From a very bad man who is now dead. There, does that satisfy you?”

Rolan had turned to kiss her before the last word left her lips. The pack slipped to the floor between his feet as his hands notched behind Tav’s jaw to pull her forward. He felt a damp weight land in his lap as her now-empty fingers slid around his torso.

Rolan broke away just enough to speak. “Stay here tonight,” he told her. It wasn't a question.

Tav nodded, leaning back in for his mouth.

Her fingers splayed in the dip between his jaw and his ear, tilting his face into hers. He kept his palm firmly pressed on the curve of her waist. Each time her lips slid softly over his, Rolan found his heart filled with another shimmering pearl of hope. They stayed there connected in a kiss until his back began to ache from the contorted position.

To his immense disappointment, Tav pulled away first. But she only made a hesitant request to borrow some clothes for herself. Rolan finally realized with a jolt of guilt that her own were wet down the front, no doubt from that moment she'd held him outside in the rain.

Rolan trained his eyes away to give her the same privacy. But though Tav didn't meet his eye, she made no attempt to hide her body—in fact seemed to move with deliberate slowness as she stripped down and pulled the threadbare tunic over her head. It barely skimmed the tops of her thighs.

Then she moved to the candle near the door and extinguished it with a puff.

Through the near-darkness, Rolan worked the bedcovers down to slip beneath them. As his damp hair landed on the pillow, he felt the mattress dip beside him as Tav promptly curled herself in along his front under the blankets. Underneath, his tail moved with a mind of its own to wind around one of her legs. She let out a small, happy sigh that tickled across his chin.

Rolan briefly wondered if they were intentionally trying to distract each other. Tav had clearly come here to find him and talk, after all. And there was much more to say—he could feel all the words unspoken hanging between them like a tangible thing. From the way Tav’s fingers worried the laces of his shirt, he wondered if she was thinking the same.

But neither of them spoke for the moment, just lying together as they listened to the storm continue outside on the streets of Baldur’s Gate.

Eventually, Rolan laid his arm still across her and closed his eyes. She was so warm, her quiet presence so comforting—and he found now that he was very, very tired.

Perhaps the rest of it could keep until the morning.

#rolan x tav #can you feel how close they are to [redacted]#the fluffiest angst #bg3 rolan #bg3 cal #bg3 lia #sage and soldier #rebgrrl writes #underdark-dreams #bg3 fanfiction #tav x rolan

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anonnie-in-wonderland · 2 years ago

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nightsong

Summary:Y/N knows she’s just another hybrid that fell through the cracks a long time ago; nothing is special about her, except for her enchanting vocals. Fed up with her talent being exploited, she runs. A bad storm blows her into a tree, and the lives of seven idols who happen to be filming their downtime in the woods.

prologue

Word Count: 1.2k

rating: T for now

genre: romance | fluff | hurt/comfort

tags: idolverse | btsxreader| ot7xreader| hybrid!reader

It was funny that the only thing she had ever consistently liked about herself was her voice. It was exactly what got her into the mess that had become her life. Of course, at the time she had no way of knowing. No understanding of how unfair the world was for those like her. Hybrids.

Early life before the lounge was a blur. Even her parents' faces had faded, lost to time now. But she remembered that they loved her. It was a feeling of fullness that she remembered quite well. Her mother would hum to her a tune so beautiful it made her throat tight and her chest full to bursting with emotion every time she heard it. What she wouldn’t give to live in that moment for the rest of her days, the vague memory of being wrapped up in loving arms and hummed and rocked.

She had been small when she was separated from them, too young to understand at first. It was scary, yes. It was confusing, sure. But at the time, the stubborn kernel of belief that they would find her was absolute.

Instead, she was put into a crowded, dark place. What she knew now to be a shipping container. She had been unlucky enough to be smuggled, one of thousands of hybrids who fell through the cracks.

Trafficked illegally from her country of origin. Lots of other hybrids were there too, agitated, confused, despondent, crying. All the emotions were too much, so much to process for one little girl, lost and unsure of where her parents were.

She sat pressed in a corner, hands covering her ears, and humming to herself. Over and over. It didn’t matter what happened around her, so long as she got to hum. It soothed her, and unbeknownst to her, it was soothing the others too.

Soon people began to requesting her humming. When a baby cried. When someone was having a bad day. When the crate was too quiet, dark, and lonely. So she did. No one ever asked for anything more from her than that.

In all the uncertainty that her fragile life had become, she had a purpose that helped her feel less helpless. When the humans would open the crate and slowly go around from cage to cage, tossing in rations, she got quiet, clammed up. For them, she couldn’t manage a hum if she wanted to.

Sometimes, they didn’t come to give them food. They came to take hybrids away. Sometimes one at a time. Sometimes in groups. But when they lifted the cages from the crate and dragged them out into the world beyond, they were never seen again. She couldn’t help but wonder when it would be her turn, because clearly it was a matter of time. She was young, but she understood that much.

Time slipped away, whether weeks or months or longer she wasn’t sure. The darkness was disorienting in the same way it was a comfort, thanks to her hybrid senses and bat’s nature.

“You haven’t hummed in a while.” a voice had whispered to her from beyond the bars one day.

“Huh?” Startled, she had sat up, blinking until her eyes adjusted and she saw an adult female hybrid, cradling a baby to her chest. She might have been some kind of big cat; since she had only been with her parents in their little community, she didn’t know much of other species so it was hard to tell. Her cub had been all but a newborn when she first noticed them. Now he was big enough to sit up a little and turn his head from side to side and look around.

“I guess no one’s asked that of you. So many of us have already left…”

“Where do they go?” She’d asked naively, crawling closer and pressing against the bars.

The big cat’s face was pitying, “I don’t know,” she sighed. “I only pray it’s nowhere horrible. Silly as it is for me to say, I hope it’s somewhere they can find happiness. I hope that for you too, little one.”

“I want to go home.” she revealed. “I want my mama and papa back.” “I know, little one.” the older hybrid soothed. “I know.” Moving herself closer to the front of her cage as well, she offered a soft smile. “Would you like to learn a new song?”

Unable to sate her curiosity, the tiny young hybrid had agreed.

It was the first song she could remember learning by heart that had words. And from the minute she opened her mouth and sang it, everything changed. There was a power in singing, a light even in the darkness, and a beauty even in the ugliness all around them.

The woman, she’d learned, was a tiger. Her name was Eun-Sook, and her baby was Junseo. And they she grew to love them. Eun-Sook talked to her in the gloom, teaching her how to spell words and explaining things she didn’t know. And whether Junseo was babbling or crying, her singing could always calm him down, even when his own mother’s couldn’t. That was when Eun-Sook told her she had a very special gift that she should always try and hold onto.

The next day, the humans came again, and just like they sometimes did, they came to take someone away. She never thought it would be Eun-Sook. She cried and shook, reaching futilely through the bars. “It’s alright,” the tiger said softly. “Keep singing. And remember that even if we are not human, we will always be people.”

That was the last time she saw her, and for a while, the last time she sang. Although it was what Eun-Sook had wanted, she found it hard. Her reason to sing was gone. Then on a day when she missed the tiger and her cub terribly, she found the words of the song slipping out unbidden, right as the humans came in to deliver meals to the remaining hybrids.

He was confused at first, looking around to determine where the small voice was coming from. She was afraid, having never let the humans so much as hear her hum before, but she kept it up, trying to be brave for Eun-Sook and Junseo. For her parents, too. She didn’t stop even when the man came and stopped directly in front of her cage, or when they made eye contact. She only stopped when the song ended and she had no more notes to carry. He studied her, saying nothing, but his face was full of surprise and…excitement?

The next time hybrids were unloaded, she was among them. After so long without sunlight, the bright, clear day was blinding. She cowered in her cage, hands pressed over her eyes, hearing voices discussing things in a language she couldn’t understand.

She had no way of knowing it yet, but her voice had changed her fate, though only slightly. She was still to be kept captive, a caged songbird.

Some might consider her lucky. Of all the places she could have ended up, she ended up with him. Gao Hàoyú, owner of Kǒngquè, soon to be one of the most visited lounges in Beijing.

A/N: prologue for the new story that won the poll. Boys will be appearing next chapter 🤗

#ot7 x reader #hybrid!au #idolverse #bts x reader

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blackjackkent · 2 months ago

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Out of curiosity, I went over to talk to Miklaur, since I actually have the opportunity this time, just to see if he had any interesting dialogue.

He doesn't, but he does seem like he deeply needs a hug:

"You'll bring him the Nightsong, won't you? He'll be so very pleased, so very *happy* if his plans materialize."

Yeah, we'll get right on that, but tbh I don't think he's going to be very happy about it in the end. And neither, unfortunately, are you.

Meanwhile, this is one of the rare occasions where all three of Rakha's companions are in exact consensus with each other and with Rakha herself, and that consensus seems to be that it's time to get out the popcorn maker:

"If that wizard wants Dame Aylin so bad, I say we give him exactly what he's asked for. I'd love nothing more than to see her grind that wretch into bonedust."

"Lorroakan's the type to cower behind contraptions and cantrips rather than facing danger. He has about as much spine as a grey ooze. Dame Aylin is likely to tear him in half if she learns of his plans. We should tell her immediately."

"Let us find Aylin and extend Lorroakan's invitation. It has been too long since I have seen a wizard cry."

#bjk plays bg3 durge #rakha the dark urge #as usual i love jaheira to an unreasonable degree XD

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hard-boiled-criminal · 2 months ago

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Social Anxiety Really Ruins the Isekai Experience

Previously known as: Brimstone from the Throat

Chapter 5 - Why You Shouldn't Plague Your Patron With Your Earthling Pickup Lines

< Ch 4 | Ch 6 >

>Ch 1<

Masterlist

Ao3 Mirror

I think this is fun, so here’s a link to a youtube playlist of the music I listened to while writing this chapter: BftT - ch5

If you want, you can think of these as the songs our isekai protagonist attempts to play.

Also, it’s time to play spot the reference~ If you spot any, congrats, you win bragging rights.

Also fuck tenses. Present and past tense are getting jumbled.

The three of you head back up the stairs to the tiefling’s area as the grove, for lack of better terms to call it, new lute in hand. You pass by the young tiefling girl, safely reunited with her parents who smile at your group as you approach.

Gale stops in front of them and asks them for a bit more information on the gnolls after they thank your group for helping their daughter.

At the top of the staircase stands the rest of the group. None look impatient, save for Lae’zel, so it’s probably safe to say they only met up here recently. The rest shuffle around a bit, making room for the three of you to join the circle they’ve already made.

“Now that we’re all here,” Tav begins after everyone settled, “Let’s discuss what we’ve found.”

“Chk! There is no need,” Lae’zel states. “The tiefling-” she emphasized her correct pronunciation “-has marked on the map where they came across my kin. We must head there to find the crèche!”

“Lae’zel, I understand your eagerness to go, but we should still hear what everyone else has to say,” Tav tries to placate her. “There is also a chance they were a scout, so the crèche may not be in that direction. The more information we have on the surrounding area, the easier time we’ll have pinpointing its exact location.”

Lae’zel crosses her arms and scowls. “I am loath to admit it, but your words have sense in them. Very well. We shall do things your way.”

“All right,” Tav smiles and walks over to a nearby crate, the rest of you following. There she spreads open a map on the crate’s surface, an area to the far northwest circled in charcoal. “This-” she points to the circle “-is where Zorru spotted the githyanki. And here-” she points to an area south of the githyanki sighting “-and around here is where the adventurers were attacked by goblins and the First Druid, Halsin, was captured. It seems the reason the adventurers were headed that way in the first place was to find a treasure called the “Nightsong” that’s hidden in the temple located here. A wizard in Balder’s Gate is willing to pay a great sum to whoever retrieves it for them. What’s everyone else found out?”

“There’s a pack of gnolls also to the northeast, and their numbers seem to be quite substantial,” Gale states your group’s findings. “I think it’s safe to say there’s at least twenty of them last seen in this area,” he points to an area northwest of the grove, closer than where the githyanki was spotted. “We also heard a small bit about some ruins to the south that might be occupied, but we didn’t get a chance to ask exactly where that was.”

Wyll points to an area a short distance south of the grove. “That’s probably around here. We found out there have been sightings around here of multiple people unaffiliated with the grove, but we’re not sure how many. The ruins are where they are probably camping out. I want to investigate as soon as possible. I’m not comfortable having others so close to the grove without knowing if they’re hostile or not, especially when there’s a chance that devil could be there. There’s also a harpy nest near the beach you can reach by going north through the part of the grove the druids are currently occupying, but as long as we don’t approach, we should be fine.”

“We have three options then: northeast, east, and south,” Tav gestured to the three areas discussed on the map. “Where shall we head?”

“We head northeast to where the other of my kind was spotted. We need to head to the crèche for purification!” Lae’zel says, resolute in her decision.

Wyll shook his head. “That area is a day's walk from here, and there’s no guarantee they’re even still there. I’d like to check out the ruins south of here before anything else. It would be remiss of us if we were to go elsewhere while a potential threat lurks near the grove.”

“We should probably head to the temple sooner rather than later. The likelihood of the First Druid’s survival falls with each passing day, assuming they’re still alive,” Gale offers his opinion. “That temple is probably the goblins’ camp as well. Scouting parties are usually smaller than the one we fought at the gate, so there’s a good chance that group were something like perimeter guards of their camp.”

“I’m for the temple and goblin camp. Since we gave our word to rescue Halsin, along with the fact he may be able to cure us of our tadpoles, I think we should head there first.

“Hmm, goblins and musty decrepit ruins aren’t all that appealing to me,” Astarion grimaces. “I’d rather take my chances with the gith.”

“I’d rather not,” Shadowheart scowls at the thought of agreeing with Lae’zel. “The ruins are nearby and might have something useful in them.”

It’s a three-way tie. Two votes for each option. Their gazes fall on the tiebreaker: you.

You point to yourself, [Me? Really? The person with decision paralysis has to make the choice]? {Performance = 17, Success}.

“We’re at an impasse and you’re the only one left to vote,” Tav says. “So, where do you think we should go? Which reminds me, if you have anything else to add,” she reaches into her pack and pulls out a book and a charcoal pencil wrapped in cloth, “you can try to write them down to communicate.”

You take them gratefully and open the book to show nothing but blank pages: a notebook. The thought is sweet, even though you know writing things down won’t help. ‘I guess it’s up to me then.’ You look at the map and bring your hand to your mouth in thought. ‘If we were to go towards the githyanki, we’d also have to be prepared to fight through gnolls. If we don’t know the numbers of the people in the ruins, it could be dangerous, but there’s probably fewer than twenty if there’s only been minimal sightings… Since this is D&D, It’d probably be better to go there for exp to get strong enough to take on the larger amounts of enemies. Plus, it’s close to camp where we can rest if there’s more of them than expected and we have to rest.’ You quickly write down your reasonings for going to the southern ruins, minus the bit about exp, and show it to the others.

You already knew they wouldn’t be literate in your language, but watching their faces twist in confusion was a bit funny. Besides, even on the off chance someone recognized the letters of the English alphabet, your mix of cursive and print in handwriting shitty enough to confuse a native reader would throw them off any trails.

Gale’s expression untwists from confusion to one of realization. “Perhaps I had it the other way around. It’s not that you've lost the ability to speak Common, but that you’ve gained the ability to understand it.” His eyes flicker from your notes to you, full of intrigue.

[Exactly.] ‘Not like I even want to tell them the actual truth so let’s go with that.’

“These tadpoles are truly out of the ordinary. In a different circumstance they would make quite the interesting study.”

“Either way, none of us can read this, so can you point to where you decided on?” Tav asks, steering the conversation back on track.

You point to the southern ruins.

“It’s decided then. Let’s stock up and prepare, then head out.”

A huff of annoyance from Lae’zel was the only complaint from the group, relieving the pressure you felt of being stuck with the ultimate choice of where to go. Wyll volunteered to get more supplies, seeing as he was already acquainted with the traders in the grove. Tav, being in charge of inventory and distribution, went with him.

‘What am I supposed to do now?’ You thought as you watched the two of them leave, the rest of the party staying nearby, but not striking up conversation with each other. You look at your hands, one occupied with a book and pencil, the other a lute. ‘I should be able to fit the lute in my bag even if its neck is sticking out, right?’ You place down your things on the now map-less crate, followed by your bag. Your bag was empty save for your tent and bedroll, which luckily attached to the outside of the bag anyway. You carefully place your lute in the pack in a way that will allow the neck to stick out without preventing the bedroll from being attachable. Your notebook–or would it be more apt to call it a journal?- and pencil are stuffed into f your pants’ empty front pocket, just big enough to fit both items.

‘Whoever designed these pants, I love you.’

“What, are you not going to pass the time with another one of your incredible tunes?”

You jump at the sudden voice and turn around to see Astarion, much closer than you were expecting. ‘Why is he so good at sneaking up on people?’

Narrowing your eyes in a pseudo-glare, you wrap your hand around the neck of your gifted lute. [Have you already forgotten the chord I played for you? I can make you suffer again. Don’t tempt me.] {Intimidation = 11, Success}.

“I was only joking, it’s not like I want to hear that horrid noise again,” he quickly backpedals. “But you must admit it’s strange that you carry around instruments and take every opportunity to not play them. With the way you avoid attention rather than attract it, it makes sense you can’t be a bard: you’d be awful at it.

Your gaze sharpens to a full glare. You make no movements. Just stare. ‘He’s doing this because he’s bored and wants a reaction out of you. Don’t give the bastard the satisfaction.’ You turn around and start affixing your bedroll to your pack.

Disappointed at your lack of reaction, Astarion frowns with a quiet “hmph” and walks away.

You turn and watch him approach his next victim, who looks to be Gale, as you hoist your pack onto your shoulders. A single thought crosses your mind at the sight of his stupid back: ‘I wish I had tape so I could stick a note to his back that says “cuck me.”’

Wyll and Tav returned a few minutes later and passed out their spoils to the others. You receive two healing potions, which you store in an easily accessible area of your bag, and a torch.

“Here, you should change into this,” Tav hands you a set of padded armor, much like Wyll’s, except dyed blue instead of red. She also hands you a set of underclothes to wear under the armor to prevent chafing.

[Cool. So, uh, where should I change]?

Donned in your newly acquired set of uncomfortable clothes and armor, you rejoin the rest of the group. Your notebook is stowed away in your pack and your phone is safely tucked away in your new pants’ pockets.

“Everyone ready to head out?” Tav’s question receives affirmations from everyone and a nod from you. “Then let’s get moving.”

The wooden gate separating the grove from the outside world doesn’t budge right up until you’re close enough to touch it, and it closes as soon as the tiefling handling the winch confirms your entire group has left. Your group walks in mostly silence, with one or two quips here and there, everyone focused on keeping an eye out for any unwelcome travelers. It’s boring and you find yourself reaching for your phone multiple times right before you stop yourself each time.

‘Am I really that dependent on instant gratification? I really do just reach for my phone when I’m bored, don’t I?’ You remove your hands from your pockets and grasp the straps of your pack. Hopefully, keeping your hands even somewhat occupied will help prevent any slip-ups. ‘Just, think about something- anything- else. Like, that song you’ve been listening to a lot recently.’ You let the melody from your memories flow into your head. Your footsteps are quick to move in sync with the imaginary beat, your head soon subtly bobbing along too.

And then it happens. The melody gets stuck at that one part where it loops endlessly in your mind and you can’t move on. You’re stuck. The only way to get unstuck is to listen to it, but you can’t. You’d need your phone. Not even the gods know when you’ll escape the loop.

‘...Astaroth, you’re so lucky you’re not here right now to experience this torture, this curse I’ve been burdened with…If you can hear this, for your own wellbeing, don’t come back yet. You will regret it. You don’t have to suffer with me.’

Your group travels back along the path you had followed the previous day, Tav leading the way through the natural rock arch where you had originally found Lae’zel suspended in the air. Oblivious to your suffering, everyone continued onward towards the gray stone pillars you just barely caught a glimpse of before Tav came to a sudden halt and crouched, then motioned for everyone to do the same. She slowly inches forward and beckons everyone to follow. {Stealth = 19, Success}.

You stay near the back of the group and watch as Tav peers around the stone and underbrush. She lifts up her hand and raises four fingers. Four people. Supposedly deeming it safe, she stands out of the crouch and signals the rest of you to stand and follow. She strides into the stone ruins with confidence. A short man, a gnome by the looks, standing on a stone half-wall comes into view as you pass the stone pillars of the ruins. The half wall overlooks a substantial drop to a staircase leading towards a door to the ruins, and an identical wall across from that with a human standing guard there. The construction of the ruins makes it feel like a canyon with stairs instead of a river running through it.

The gnome whips around when he hears your group approaching, “You! Not another step, hear me? Boss! Got company up here,” He calls out to his left, where you can see a human and another gnome down a flight of stairs, standing near a statue.

Immediately taking notice, the two of them clamber up the stairs until the other gnome stands in front of Tav, “What’s this then–trying to creep around us and loot the crypt? Not happening. Or is it the ship you’re after? Don’t matter either way–it’s ours, all of it.”

“Your loud words hide fear, confusion. Looting that ship will bring you no peace,” Tav states with a steadfast authority you weren’t expecting.

“Well, uh, in that case… C’mon you lot, no point in gettin’ killed. Second worm gets the cheese, an’ all…” The gnome quickly acquiesces, his bravado having vanished to leave naught but nervousness.

“Uh, second mouse gets the cheese, no?” The human man corrects him.

“Nobody’s getting any damn cheese! Now move it!”

The four people, looters you guess, are quick to scurry off.

“It would have been quicker to kill them,” Lae’zel comments once they’re out of earshot.

“Maybe, but we need to conserve our energy,” Tav explains. “If the devil Karlach is in the crypt, we’ll have an intense battle to fight. The less strength we waste, the better.”

“This devil best put up a good fight, if nothing else, to be worth the time we are wasting.”

Tav leads your group down the stairs, around the crumbling area in front of the statue the boss gnome and human were loitering around earlier, and down the next flight of stairs through the manmade canyon, stopping in front of the heavy-looking door. She puts her ear up to the door for a moment. You watch her eyes narrow before she takes out her staff and pulls away from the door to over at the rest of the group. You watch as the others around you pull out their weapons.

‘Oh, uh, okay,’ still not used to your powers, you fumble a bit as you summon your violin and bow into your hands and get in ready-position.

Slowly, Tav reaches for and grabs the door ring. She pulls it taught, careful to not cause the metal to grind against each other and make any loud noises. With a step back she yanks on it. It doesn’t budge. She pushes at the door. Doesn’t budge. Locked. She opens her mouth to speak but another voice cuts her off before she can begin.

“That you, Gimblebock?” A muffled voice echoes through the door. “Everything all right out there?”

“Gimblebock triggered some trap,” Tav improvises, voice frantic but her expression says otherwise. “He needs help- now!”

“I told him it wasn’t safe out there. Get inside, and I’ll rustle up some bandages…”

You hear the click of the door being unlocked. Tav nods to the rest of you and opens the door. You all step inside. Hearing more footsteps than he was expecting, the man who unlocked the door turns around.

He takes a step back, “Who the hells?” Torch in hand, he quickly brandishes his sword with the other. “You’re dead!”

Tav is quick to rush in and strike him with her new quarterstaff she picked up from one of the merchants in the grove. As he stumbles from the impact, you clumsily place all four fingers down on the e-string and screech out a note, firing an eldritch blast at him. {Attack Roll = 17, Hit}, {Force Damage = 3}. He staggers, but doesn’t fall. With a snarling face he rushes towards Tav but doesn’t get very far when Astarion appears behind him and sinks a dagger into the side of his neck. He uses the blade to basically flick the man to the ground as he removes the dagger. You watch as the man sputters and gurgles on the floor, blood oozing from his wound in a steady stream and dripping from his mouth whenever it opens. He stops moving. He’s not conscious, but he’s still alive– the blood is still pulsing out of him, his heart still beating, working to pump blood and keep its body alive if only the blood wouldn’t gush out of the wound with each contraction. It won’t be long before he’s dead.

You take in a deep breath through your mouth as you look away. ‘Inhale… One… two… three… exhale…’ You breathe out through your nose, slow and controlled. ‘Seeing somebody dying is way worse than seeing a body that’s already dead.’ You carefully step around the soon-to-be-new-dead-body and down the half-flight of stairs.

«Would some good news help?»

‘Oh, hi… You know, when you said you were going away for a bit to recharge your powers or something, I was expecting longer than half a day.’

«I thought so as well. I’m not sure if it’s a side effect of the tadpole or that your body is now able to tap into magic or something else entirely, but you’re gaining power at an incredible speed. Your body seems to absorb the traces of mana in the world around you, including the runoff of spells that have been cast not just by you, but by others as well.»

‘So I’m a mana vacuum? Does this mean I can just keep absorbing and never run out of magic? That’s broken.’

«Well, not exactly. At the moment, your body isn’t able to accommodate such high amounts of mana. I’ve been siphoning the excess as it enters you for your own safety, but it has turned out to be enough to allow us to converse freely without depleting any energy. In fact, your intake is high enough where I’m still gaining a small amount as we speak.»

‘“For my own safety?” What would’ve happened if you weren’t taking the excess?’

« Much like water, it would travel through you like a river and find the path of least resistance where it could escape. If you don’t consciously let the mana out of you, it will erode at the weakest point until it makes an opening to escape from. Based on your memories, I think an apt analogy is if you were a balloon and mana is there air getting pumped into it. After a while, you would burst.»

‘...Fun.’

«On a lighter note, you’ve grown stronger and have new abilities! Hence, the good news I previously mentioned.»

‘Ooooh, a level up? Perfect timing! Now I don’t have time to think about things too deeply and have an existential crisis!’

«…We're going to have a talk later because I am very worried for your mental health.»

‘I’m sure it’ll be fine; I’ve dealt with worse.’

«…» Astaroth spoke no words, but the silence that felt like a leveling stare said enough.

‘...ugh, fine, we’ll talk about feelings and unpack this at camp.’

«Good.»

‘Soooo, what are those shiny new abilities you mentioned?’

He sighs softly «Since you’ve given your word, I suppose we can change the topic now. I have granted you a new invocation and spell. You can now read all writing and can cast the spell Illusory Script. The spell, while active, will allow the intended meaning of whatever you write to be understandable by any parties you choose.»

‘So it will auto-translate my writing? Cool, I’ll make sure they don’t know I can do this for as long as possible, but–’ you interject before Astaroth can say anything– ‘I’ll make sure to use it when necessary. I won’t let my anxiety be the reason my party members get hurt. So, thank you, Astaroth. Really.’

«Don’t worry; I won’t push you on the matter. In the meantime, I’ll be working on getting us a gift.»

‘Ooooooh, a gift? What is it?’

«That’s for me to know, and you to be surprised with.»

‘Awww, c’mooooon, just a hint?’

«Nope.»

‘Booooo! ‘

«Just go have fun exploring and watch out for traps.»

‘Fiiiiiine… Let’s listen to some music tonight.’ You smile.

«I’d like nothing more.»

You tuned back into your surroundings, seeing everyone carefully rummage through the boxes and other storage containers scattered about. To the left is a door. Straight in front is a long dining table with food and drinks left on it, a fireplace in the wall behind the head of it. The walls are wood in some places and stone in others. Your gaze is attracted to a metal plaque hanging crookedly on the wall to your right. Shadowheart and Tav are standing near it, looking at it as well. You approach to get a better look. She looks at you out of the corner of her eye when you stop next to her.

“Who were those prayers for?” She asks. “Normally the patron god is obvious– not here.”

You watch the letters on the plaque tremble and warp until they reassemble themselves into English: Hear my words as they might be your last. Be careful. ‘Ominous.’ You shrug in response to Shadowheart. You don’t know enough about the Faerûnian deities to know if these words are a catchphrase of sorts for one of them, but you weren’t about to expend a spell slot to ask. ‘Still, no matter how I look at it, this doesn’t read like a prayer.’

“A dead tongue,” Tav states. “Whoever worshipped here must be long gone,” She walks away after a small shrug of her own, off to investigate the rest of the room.

‘Wait, a dead tongue? But I can read it now… Holy shit, I am an archaeologist’s wet dream. Or philologist? Archaeological philologist? Ah, whatever.’

Tav soon gathered everyone together to approach the door across the room from the plaque after everyone had rifled through the supplies and grabbed what they deemed necessary to take. “Everyone ready to keep going?” A round of nods ran through the group. “Good. Let’s move.” Tav approached the door, and just like before, she put her ear up to it and listened. Her eyes glanced over to Astarion. “How good are you with the bow?” she whispered.

“Very,” Astarion whispered back with a smirk as he pulled out his bow and notched an arrow.

“Alright, everyone else, back up and get low.”

The rest of us did as told, everyone in a crouch with only Tav and Astarion near the door. With a nod from him, Tave pulled the lever on the wall and the door swung open. Astarion took aim, pulled back and fired, all within the span of a high crouch jump.

‘Oh, he’s a rogue! Yeah that makes sense. Sneak attack damage is crazy good.’

“How’d you get past Andorn?!” the human woman Astarion had shot cried out. She didn’t get to say much before Gale hit her with a Ray of Frost and Tav rushed her and struck with her staff. As quickly as the fight had started, it was over.

The threat gone, everyone raised from their sneaking poses and took a look around the room. To the left there was a door that was opened after Tav did her routine check. There wasn’t much inside but there was some sunlight that leaked through the gaps in the ceiling. To the right of the main room was a door with neither lock nor handle. You gave it a slight push, but it didn’t move. The last door, on the far wall across from where you entered, was the group’s next target. Tav didn’t even need to put her ear up against it; you could hear the loud conversation happening as you neared. Nobody needed to be told to ready their weapons this time.

Astarion took to the front with Tav again. As soon as she pushed open the door, Astarion let loose the arrow on the first person he saw. Everyone rushed into the room after the first shot, taking advantage of the surprise attack. Tav rushed the man astarion hit, striking him in the stomach with a jab as soon as he turned around to face your group. Lae’zel leapt down the flight of stairs and sprinted to the left towards a duergar, hitting them with a mean downwards slash of her flame-wreathed blade she must have picked up from the fiend on the nautilus.

You began to play the song you had stuck in your head earlier and took aim at the already wounded man in your direct line of sight. Another eldritch blast fired from your instrument. {Attack Roll = 6, Miss}. The man, seeing your magic projectile, ducks, the blast going past him and into the floor. Gale fires a ray of frost towards someone on the right– you glance over and see a tall man, but afford him no more time than that. Wyll runs down the stairs and throws his momentum into a lunge towards the man you missed, stabbing him in the chest with a rapier. The man falls to the ground, incapacitated. Shadowheart moves closer to the action, but stays out of direct contact, ready to sling healing spells at whoever needs them.

Target down, Wyll moves to the right and hexes the man Gale had hit. Tav runs towards the back where a human in robes readies her quarterstaff behind a statue of a robed figure. Astarion darts towards the duergar Lae’zel is in combat with, flanking them. He stabs them from behind with his dagger, and they fall to the ground as soon as it is removed. Tav makes a strike against the figure in the back, who retaliates with a burst of ice, the sharp spikes cutting into her. You move your gaze to the man Wyll hexed. The statue provides too much cover for the person Tav is fighting for you to hit them. You’re now six seconds into your song and you’re able to fire off another blast. So you do. {Attack Roll = 6, Miss}. Your face scrunches into an annoyed scowl as you miss again.

Gale’s fire bolt hits the man you missed in the face, causing him to cry out and not notice Wyll in time before he’s stabbed with a rapier. Shadowheart moves close enough to help Tav with a healing word as Lae’zel dashes around the right of the statue and pulls out her bow, firing an arrow at the mage engaged with Tav, Astarion in quick pursuit. The man, after shaking off the two consecutive attacks, releases a thunderous warcry and slams his spiked club down on Wyll. The blow forces Wyll down, but he’s quick to roll away and get back up on his feet, thrusting at the man again. The raging human goes down. Astarion, having sprinted towards the mage alongside Lae’zel, was quick to rush in with another stab as soon as Lae’zel’s arrow hit its mark. The mage’s cry is silenced as Tav finishes her off with a brutal blow to the head with her staff.

Another round of everyone looting bodies and chests occurred, you sticking to looking in the chests only, and was interrupted by a ghastly shriek and rapidly clicking metal.

“Wonder what that did,” you looked over to Tav when she spoke, seeing her hand on a metal pull bar held in the jaws of a humanoid skull.

“The sound came from the last room we were in,” Gale said.

[I’ll go check it out], you mime. {Performance = 20, Success}. ‘I’ll gladly take a room with one body over one with four.’

“All right, everyone who’s done looting go with them,,” Tav says as she looks at the others. “The rest of us will follow soon after.”

Shadowheart and Astarion end up joining you, neither of them interested in rifling through the bookshelves in search of any magic scrolls or potential hidden passages after they finished looting the corpses.

You don’t hesitate to leave the room, eager to escape the stench of iron growing more pungent by the minute. As soon as you crossed through the doorway, you didn’t have to go far to see the change: the immovable door was now open. Curious, you head in and see an altar devoid of anything except candles, two more headless statues and a tapestry hanging on the far wall where another door resides.

‘It’s just an airlock, or well, a vestibule, technically. Kinda disappointing, not gonna lie.’

You decided you’d better do what Tav had been doing and put your ear up to the closed door. [Nothing,] you shake your head and lean your back against the door. [Guess we wait, then?] {Performance Roll = Natural 20, critical success}.

“I’ll go let them know what we’ve found, I suppose,” Shadowheart exits the room, leaving just you and Astarion.

It’s silent, the two of you just waiting. Astarion flips his dagger out of boredom. Not much to really talk about when one of you can’t talk and the other isn’t striking up conversation.

‘But (y/n),’ your mentally exhausted mind self pipes up, ‘what if we spoke anyway?‘

‘But I don’t want to talk, that’s like, our whole thing?’ You reply to yourself.

‘Okay but hear me out. If we do, it could be funny to see the bastard man so confused. Could be fun. Also, since he can’t understand us: no repercussions for what we say.’

‘You make a convincing argument, (y/n).’

‘Thank you, (y/n).’

“So, I, uh… heard you had twelve terabytes of pornography.”

“...” Astarion stops playing with his stabbing instrument and turns to look at you, not amused.

‘(y/n), why’d you open with that of all things?!’

‘I don’t know! I panicked and I thought it’d be funny and it just slipped out. Besides, you said this is a no repercussions discussion; I’m sure everything will be fine. Just be glad it wasn’t the Mississippi pick up line.’

‘Mmm, fair…’

«The “Mississippi pick up line?” Also, why are you talking to yourself?»

‘Oh no.’

“I hope you’re not using the fact that I don’t understand whatever it is that you're saying to say something foul to my face,” Astarion pulls you from your mind conversation.

[No, no no no, that’s not it, don’t worry.] ‘I mean, I’m not lying. He is trying to ask if I’m insulting him, right? Yeah.’

The room falls to silence again.

«So, would you like to start with Mississippi or why you were talking to yourself how you talk to me?»

‘I’ll have you know that having conversations with yourself in your head is very normal where I come from, thank you very much.’

«I suppose I’ll take your word for it. And why’d you say “oh no” when I asked about Mississippi?»

‘Okay, so pickup lines. They’re a form of flirting that takes the structure of a question followed by the reason why you asked. For example: Are you from Tennessee? Because you’re the only ten I see. Probably doesn’t make sense since you don’t have cultural context but you get the point. That’s the structure. Now, Mississippi is a place from my world. And, ugh, I can’t believe I’m saYing this to my patron, but the line goes like this: Are you from Mississippi? ‘Cause you’re the only miss whose piss I’d sippy.’

«…That was vile.»

‘...I know, and I’m deeply ashamed by how funny I find it.’

«I’ll forgive you if you say that to the next devil we come across.»

‘Bet.’

«That was merely a jest, but now I’m looking forward to it. Make sure you have Illusory Script ready to go.»

‘...Well fuck me, I guess. If there’s one thing I’m not, it’s the opposite of stubborn, so I guess I’m doing it.’

You then remember that the next devil you’ll probably come across will be Karlach. You know. The really handsome brain lady.

‘Oh no, she’s going to hate me! And I was so ready to flirt with her using Johnny Bravo lines, but now I’m doomed to make her feel disgusted by meeee-hee-hee-heeeee!’ You sob in your mind. ‘But mama didn’t raise no pussy. I said I’d do it, so I’ll do it, goddammit.’

«I don’t care who or what you’re attracted to, but please, no. devils.»

‘Isn’t like I’m gonna get anywhere with her when that’s what I’ll have to drop on her, but okay. No devils. I can work with that.’

The rest of the party is quick to arrive, spoils of gold coins, weapons, and some low-level spell scrolls taken off the corpses of your adversaries. Tav leads the way through the door into the next room” a large, open chamber.

“A crypt,” Lae’zel observes. “What riches might it contain?”

‘Oh no, are we gonna have to fight a necromancer? Everyone knows necromancers love to hang out in crypts.’

The room has two sets of large double doors on the left and right walls, parallel to each other. Your party goes through the door on the right. There is very conspicuous sarcophagus in the center of the room, and a few against the walls as well.

“A trap,” Astarion points out once he nears it. “Someone doesn’t like visitors.”

“Can you disarm it?” Tav asks.

“Easily.”

As he works on that, the rest of the group rifles through the other sarcophagi, which are thankfully not trapped. This room, like the others, is quickly looted, the only things of note being a magical spear given to Shadowheart, an old key, and a strange black coin. There’s also another door, locked until it isn’t by Astarion’s deft hands, which leads back to the beach Tav and Shadowheart woke up on. Nothing more to find here, the group goes back to the previous room and approaches the other doors.

After hearing no sound, Tav inserts the key taken from the sarcophagus, which thankfully unlocks the door. Another open concept room with an underground version of a sunken courtyard in the center with a large stature identical to the ones you’ve seen throughout the crypt, except this time with a head.

“Look at that!” Gale exclaims once he sees the statue. “Jergal, the Scribe of the Dead. This chapel must be ancient.”

‘Guess nobody worships him anymore, then?’

«Correct. He stepped down from his seat of godhood more than a millennium ago.»

‘Oh wow, then yeah, this place is old.’

“Armed scribes- but no sign of a struggle,” Tav mutters as you all pass by some clothed skeletons lying about while you walk through the room.

“The bones are intact,” Lae’zel comments. “Would not scavengers have disturbed them?”

‘Oh yeah, there was definitely a necromancer here before. I guess they’re not anymore?’

The wall on the right has collapsed, allowing some outside light to leak through, but it seems to lead to a cave that was likely carved out by the river running through it. You all head to the left, where the only door, besides the one you came through, stands. This one is luckily unlocked. There are more sarcophagi within the room, inside one you found another of those black coins. Against the same wall as the door is a stone shelf upon which a book with a massive metal lock resides.

‘What kind of diary has secrets bad enough to warrant that kind of lock?’ You think, as you pick it up. ‘Whatever it is, it’s gotta be juicy.’ You pull on the lock and it doesn’t budge. ‘Seriously? A thousand years later and you’re still keeping your secrets? How dedicated are you to your job that you haven’t rusted into nothingness already?’

“Would you mind if I took a look at that?” You turn to see Gale next to you, looking at the book. “There’s some magic involved in that book, so I’d love to take a look. Can probably knock the lock open with some magic of my own as well.”

[Knock yourself out,] you hand him the book.

One magical hand motion later and the lock clicks and the book practically bursts open, as if it wanted someone to look at a specific page. You hover next to Gale and watch as the words on the page morph themselves into letters you recognize. The words, however, even once settled, don’t make sense to you.

“They’re names,” Gale explains, seeing your confusion. “These pages are recording gods, entire pantheons even, that have dwindled or died or have been reborn. What a fascinating tome.”

‘Huh. Neat.’

And then you’re back to exploring the main chamber. Down the steps and into the courtyard you go, where you spot another skeleton and a plaque at the base of the giant statue. The words read the same as the first one you read. The words carved into the stone scroll the statue is holding is the same as well. More stairs sit on either side of the statue, both seemingly lead to nothing. On the left side though, atop the stairs along a pillar on the wall, you spy a button.

‘Oh no. The irresistible urge is encompassing me. Oooh, that button is so tempting.’ You quickly climb the stairs and stand in front of the button, barely keeping your impulsive want to press it at bay.

“Tav!” You call out, gaining her attention. You point to the button. [Can I?] {Persuasion = 7, Failure}.

“Hold on, let me take a look,” She climbs up the stairs and stands next to you, looking at the button. “Well, I don’t see anything else,” she says, glancing around.

[OK.] You press the button.

The section of the wall to the left underneath the the arched bevelling slides away, but as it does, you begin to hear ominous gasps of breath resound from the rest of the room. You and the rest of the party, all huddled on our around the staircase, look back. The skeletons become animate, rising from their collapsed positions, their bodies coated in a green glow of necromantic magic.

“Hells, they’ve woken!” Tave yells as she and everyone else readies their weapons.

“Let them come,” Shadowheart says, a fierce determination in her voice. “The darkness can be to our advantage.”

Tav rushes forward into the courtyard and a whip of water sprouts forth from her arm, grabbing onto the skeleton in between the opposing staircases of where you stood and pulling it until it is within melee range of her. Astarion is able to quickly flank it and hit it with a devastating sneak attack with his dagger, but it isn't enough for it to go down. Your eldritch blast hasn’t been kind to you today, so you switch towards the other cantrip you have: a Vile Fire Bolt. You ready your violin and begin playing {Attack Roll = 15, Hit}. {Fire Damage = 4, Vile Damage = 3}. The skeleton collapses into a pile of bones. On the mezzanine surrounding the courtyard, another skeleton stands near the brazier, almost directly behind where the skeleton you just took down originally stood. Gale readies a Magic Missile spell, all three missiles hitting the skeleton. He ducks behind the short tree standing next to the statue.

A skeleton standing near the door where the book of dead gods was found casts Fog Cloud on the stairs where you were standing, obscuring your vision in the haze, along with Lae’zel, Wyll, and Shadowheart who had not yet left the stairs. You can’t see what’s going on, but you can hear three sets of footsteps run forwards. You hear a chant and blast when suddenly the fog dissipates. You look to the right and see Wyll up on the mezzanine, facing the downed skeletal mage. He must have shot his own eldritch blast and defeated it, dispelling the magic. Lae’zel and Shadowheart ran forwards and up the other flight of stairs, approaching the skeleton Gale had hit.

That skeleton cast Fog Cloud on Lae’zel and Shadowheart, stopping them in their tracks before retreating. Another skeleton that was between the double doors and the collapsed wall ran forward and cast another Fog Cloud, encompassing Tav, Gale, and Astarion. A third skeleton ran from the left of the collapsed wall and fired a Ray of Frost at Tav. Tav ran towards where the ice spell came from. Noticing the retreating skeleton passing by the stairs to the right, she hurls a streak of fire from her staff at the skeleton, causing it to collapse in a burst of flames, the fog around Lae’zel and Shadowheart dissipating. You take the stairs at a time as you descend into the courtyard, your bowing turning into a natural staccato at the movement. Keeping out of the fog, you aim at the frost-wielding skeleton and shoot another bolt of vile flames. {Attack Roll = 23, Hit}. {Fire damage = 3, Vile damage = 2}. Lae’zel runs to the other skeleton that cast the fog around Gale and Astarion and lands a diagonal slash against it, breaking its concentration. Now able to see, Astarion and Gale turn their attention towards the frost skeleton you hit. Astarion fires an arrow while Gale sends his own Ray of Frost at it. Both hit their mark and the skeleton goes down. Shadowheart charges forward with her new spear and thrusts into the skeleton Lae’zel is in melee with, taking it down.

The threat neutralized, your party gathers back up in the courtyard and heads towards the wall that opened up. You head in and see a room with a chest, some pots and vases, some benches, and a single sarcophagus surrounded by unlit candles.

“A lot of effort to hide one sarcophagus,” Tav comments.

As Tav loots the chest, you approach the sarcophagus and notice a plaque on the ground at its base. It morphs into a readable scrawl: “Here lies the Guardian of Tombs. Through knowledge comes atonement.”

‘...Is this the necromancer?’

Tav, finished with taking the valuables from the chest, walks past you and right up to the sarcophagus. She barely touches it before it begins to move on its own, sliding towards the back wall away from you. It moves slowly until an emaciated hand shoots up and grabs the edge, causing you to flinch back in surprise. With a swift flick of its arm, the heavy lid of its tone coffin is practically flung off.

‘Holy shit, I did not sign up for mummy brutes. That arm has no muscles in its arm, where did it get that strength?!’ You quickly back up some more.

A mummy, dressed in tattered robes, loose bandages, and gold refinery limply raises into the air. Its bones creak as its head raises and its eyes open. Arms outstretched, he floats towards your group. Everyone backs up as it lands in front of what was supposed to be its final resting place and walks forward as soon as its feet touch the ground.

“So he has spoken, and so thou standest before me. Right as always,” the mummy speaks before pausing in front of Tav. Its voice is rough and masculine with an odd whispering echo surrounding every word. “What a curious way to awaken. Now I have a question for thee: what is the worth of a single mortal’s life?”

“‘So he has spoken’? What ‘he’ are you talking about?” Tav asks.

“An arbiter of certain matters. But that is not important now. Wilt thou answer my question?”

“Yes. Ask away.”

“So I ask again: what is the worth of a single mortal life?”

“Mortal lives are not ‘single’. They are part of a great whole- a path to enlightenment.”

“Few strive for such balance. Fewer still achieve it. Very well. I am satisfied.” He looks over at you, locking eyes.

You purse your lips and break eye contact. ‘Why is he looking at me?’

I was not expecting to meet one of you in this age. Curious indeed. We have met and I know thy face. We will see each other again at the proper time and place. Farewell.”

Your eyes widen and you look back at him. You open your mouth to ask just what he was talking about, but don’t get the chance before he speaks again.

“We have nothing more to discuss. Continue on thy way, as if I were not here. I must attend this place, after so many years away. We will see each other again soon.”

“You seem very certain of that. How?” Tav asks, glancing between the two of you.

“The mechanics of fate would be difficult to explain to one such as thyself. Regardless, it will occur.” And just like that, he walks off.

Tav looks at you. “Do you know what he meant by ‘one of you’?”

You shrug. He could’ve meant where you’re from, your patron, or any number of things.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter too much–that skeleton was being too cryptic for my tastes: no straight answers at all. Well, since we’ve cleared out this place, let’s take a short rest. Get ready to move in half an hour.”

The group breaks, most preferring to leave the musty room you were in, all except you, that is. Though it didn’t smell the best, it was pretty comfortable in all other ways. You take a seat on one of the benches.

‘Astaroth, do you know anything about whatever that was.’

«They were probably talking about me. I think that mummy, as you referred to it as, is a chosen of Jergal. He might have been able to sense I am your patron, and seeing as I perished many millennia ago, most would not expect my presence anywhere.»

‘Isn’t that, y’know, kind of bad that he knows about you?’

«As he has remained silent about my identity, I don’t believe we have anything to worry about.»

‘That’s a relief.’

«Yes, it is.»

True to her word, half an hour later, Tav rounds everyone up and leads you through the entryway into the cave made by the collapsed wall. There must have been a door there at some point, seeing as around a column of stone was a lever that lowered a ladder. You all climb up the ladder and through a trapdoor, leading to the outside cliff of the crypt.

Once everyone is out, Tav starts forward again. “Well, we’ve cleared out the crypt of any threats, but no Karlach was to be found. For now, let’s head back to the grove and go west. We can decide if we go further west or north as we get closer to the points on the map.”

Nobody could complain, so forwards you all went.

“So,” Astarion starts, “You know about these parasites. Will we survive them?” He asks Lae’zel.

“Only if my people extract them,” she replies. “The only other cure is the blade.”

“Okay. Wonderful.”

‘...I almost forgot I had one of those things in my head and now I can’t stop thinking about it and I swear I can feel it squirm, blegh. I’m gonna be sick if I think about it any longer. Quick, think of something stupid-we’re great at that. Um… we know it takes a lot of slaps to cook a chicken, however, with my new vile burning hands spell, would it only take one slap? Or would it take more?’

You all reach the entrance to the grove in fifteen minutes' time. Tav gives a nod to the lookouts as you pass by. They nod back in acknowledgement while your party continues west. Not a minute's walk later does Wyll stop you in your tracks and points out footprints heading seemingly into the cliff.

“Tracks like these puncture the soil across the Sword Coast: Goblins, of course.”

‘Into the cliff? What, do we have ghost goblins now?’ You step forward and examine the vine-covered cliff face. {Investigation = 21, Success}. It’s another of those sliding stone doorways you saw in the grove. You easily locate the activation mechanism in the form of a hidden button along the frame and press it, lowering the door. [Voila,]

You peer into the doorway to see an earthy tunnel, a mix of natural and manmade. There’s some other natural light pouring in from the ceiling deeper in, but you can’t make out too much besides that and two other ominous sources of light: a pinprick of glowing red and a faint glow of blue light. [So. Are we going in]?

“There are at least four sets of goblin prints,” Wyll states, examining the cave as he walks up next to you. “Seeing how close it is to the grove, there’s a good chance these goblins know where it is. I don’t see any prints exiting at least. That means we can still intercept them and make sure the grove’s location isn’t leaked to their camp.”

“As long as that means we get to go kill something, a little chase wouldn’t hurt too much,” Astarion smirks.

“Chk,” Lae’zel scowls. “Goblins are hardly worth fighting.”

“Let’s go,” Tav decides. “If we wipe them out now, we can avoid a possible pincer attack later if they end up taking the same path as us after they leave.”

You and Tav front the group, slowly sneaking in as the others follow suit. The tunnel slightly curves to the right, and a few meters into it, you can already see the cavern it widens out into. Your eyes adjust to the dim light fairly quickly, thankfully. Once they do, you can see a large, ivory statue of a bird of prey, an eagle or hawk, or something of the like. They eyes of which you notice are the source of the red light you could just barely make out from the entrance. You’re also able to notice something else: voices.

“Glowing eyes are rarely a good sign,” Tav whispers, pointing towards the statue and drawing everyone’s attention to it. “It’s probably a trap; best be careful- Astarion, do you think you might be able to disarm it?”

“Well, glowing-eyed statues aren’t exactly my forte, especially when we have company,” he flicks his head in the direction the voices are coming from.

You sneak a few steps forward to get a wider view of the area, ‘there’s usually some clues of how to solve these puzzles in places like this.’ A few meters in front of the statue lies a natural stone column with an unnatural white stone panel, matching the bird statue in make and tone, with a glowing blue symbol, the source of the blue glow you saw. You nudge Tav and point to the panel.

[That looks like a button, doesn’t it? If we push it, it could disarm whatever trap that statue is.] {Persuasion = 8, Success}

“It’s worth a shot,” she says. “We can’t throw something at it or shoot it if we don’t want to draw the attention of those voices’ owners, goblins, presumably. We need somebody who is quick and quiet to press it and abscond.”

Everyone looks at Astarion.

“I suppose I am quite talented in those aspects. Very well, if you insist, but if you’re wrong about this,” he briefly narrows his eyes at you.

In a split second, he’s gone, already three meters ahead in a silent dash. He runs with noiseless steps, body low to the ground. In three seconds he had crossed over to the pillar and placed his hand on the panel, pushing it in. As he does, both the blue light of the panel and the red light of the statue's eyes are snuffed out. As quickly as he crossed that distance the first time he did again on his way back: a round trip in six seconds flat.

“Hmph, easy.” He gloats. “Also, I took a small glance around. There is a goblin right around the corner, but I didn’t see where the other ones were.”

“Looks like we’re in for a fight. No time like the present. Let’s go,” Tav leads you around the bend until the goblin comes into view. Tav flicks her hand forward. [Go.]

Astarion makes the first move, darting up to the goblin and stabbing it from behind. It lets out a guttural shriek that dies out quickly as it dies itself. The other goblins, who you can now see on the floor level with the bottom of the cliff, notice the sudden attackers and reach for their weapons. They don’t have time to do much when Tav, who was right behind Astarion, uses Rush of the Gale Spirits, forcing two of the three goblins back a few meters and knocking them off balance. She scales down the cliff using the stone shelves, some of which are too flat to have occurred naturally. Astarion is quick to follow behind her.

Your violin is resummoned and readied. You approach the Edge of the cliff and find your target: a goblin archer further right than the other two. You start your new song with a Vile Fire Bolt. {Attack Roll = 11, Miss}. The goblin ducks, the attack whizzing over its head.

“Glacies,” Gale, having come up to the cliff edge, stands left of you, casts Ray of Frost, hitting the goblin furthest away. Glancing that way, you also notice a man lying on the floor, unconscious, surrounded by the goblins.

Wyll, now also at the edge but further to the right, aims at the same goblin who dodged your attack. “Maledicus… Dolo,” he casts both Hex and Eldritch Blast. The spells hit their mark and cause the goblin to stumble, but it stays standing.

“Incende!” Shadowheart steps up between you and Wyll and casts Sacred Flame. The goblin nimbly steps back, dodging the sudden burst of white flame.

Lae’zel leaps down the stair-like stone shelves and fires an arrow at the nearest goblin- an archer. The arrow pierces its leg and it shouts in pain. Tav moves up to hit that same Goblin as Lae’zel but misses. Astarion fires an arrow at the goblin archer, who is distracted by Tav enough that it doesn’t see the arrow coming. The arrow sinks into its neck and the goblin falls. With one archer down and another to go, he moves to the hexed goblin and tries to stab with his offhand, but misses. He goes in with another swing and hits, but doesn’t kill.

The goblin archer jumps back from Astarion and shoots an acid arrow at Wyll once it gains some distance from Astarion. The arrow misses and strikes the cliff face right in front of him, however the acid vial attached to it bursts, splashing onto Shadowheart next to him. She grunts in pain and steps back, flicking off as much of the acid as possible onto the floor.

Your gaze is still honed in on the hexed goblin. The sixth second comes around, a full round of combat having passed, and another Vile Fire Bolt is shot. {Attack Roll= Natural 20, Critical Hit}, {Damage = 4 Vile, 4 Fire}. It screams as it perishes in black and red flames.

Another Ray of Frost, Hex, and Eldritch Blast come from Gale and Wyll, aimed at the last remaining goblin, who is unable to withstand the barrage of spells and succumbs to the cold embrace of death.

The fight is over, and everyone sheathes their weapons, your violin absorbed back into its pocket dimension. The party goes to rejoin Tav, who is checking on the unconscious man on the lower level. You however, see a couple of crates to your right next to a standing torch that look like the perfect place to take a break. Your stamina is not like the others’, and that short rest in the crypt was nowhere near long enough to soothe your aching legs. You can’t resist the temptation and take a seat. {Contested Roll: Perception = 18 vs. Habit = 17, Success}. Your hand reaches for your pocket out of habit, but you notice before you pull your phone out and move your hand away. ‘I gotta break that habit.’

You close your eyes and stretch in an attempt to soothe your sore body somewhat. You crack your spine with a satisfying pop and relax your muscles. You open your eyes and see Astarion, walking right in front of you. You almost jumped; you didn’t hear him at all. He passes by you, walking into the dark alcove to your left.

Curious, you follow him up the roughly hewn stone steps, clearly man-made compared to the rest of the cavern. It was unexpectedly dark, and you could barely make out Astarion kneeling down in front of some large mass, the details of which you couldn’t make out. You take a step forward to get a better look at what he’s doing.

He whips around and you briefly see a glint of metal in his hand, his entire body tense, as if preparing to lunge at a moment’s notice. “Oh, it’s just you,” he says, his hand moving back, pushing what you now realize is a dagger back into its sheath.

[Whatcha doin?] You ask, trying to ignore how close you came to getting stabbed. {Performance = 20, Success}.

“Taking my reward, obviously,” he gestures towards the dark mass behind him.

‘Reward?’ You lean forward and squint, and you can just make out the true form of that mass: a chest. ‘Ooooh, fun.’ [So, what are we looking at here]? {Performance = Natural 20, Critical Success}.

“A very considerate setup of traps and locks I’ll have to get through,” he replies, pulling out the respective toolkits to undo each.

[Won’t it be hard with how dark it is? Here let me–] You almost reach for your pocket again- ‘not grab my phone,’ [let me get you some light.] {Performance = 12, failure}. Astarion doesn’t acknowledge you as you turn back and leave the alcove. You take out your torch and head over to the standing torch that was near the boxes you sat on earlier. You light yours with the flame and head back over to Astarion, who had already begun fiddling with the trapped chest without you.

He doesn’t glance over at you, despite the sudden increase in light, too focused on the chest. You watch him work, his hands turning his tools slowly and precisely, his hands steady, never shaking.

‘...He’s got some pretty hands.’

One minute and two clicks later, the chest is disarmed and unlocked. He pops open the lid and you step forward to take a look, your torch illuminating the insides. There’s a twisted staff and a small pile of gold coins.

“Better than nothing,” he says as he pockets the gold. He grabs and takes a look at the staff and frowns.

[Tav could probably use it]. {Performance = 3, failure}.

“It was locked in a trapped chest, so it’s probably at least somewhat valuable. Maybe we could sell it to the druids. It looks nature-y enough for them to be interested. Here, hold onto it,” he passes it to you. “You don’t have to carry around your instrument anywhere because of your magic, so you should be fine carrying it around.”

[I mean, I guess I could use it as a walking stick.] {Performance = 15, success}. You grab it and tap the base against the ground a couple times, just because it felt right. ‘I kinda feel like Gandalf. Fuck yeah.’

“Yes, well, have fun with that.”

As you both step back out into the main area of the cave, you see the others reach the top of the cliff, climbing up to the same level you are on.

“There you both are,” Tav comments upon seeing you. “There are two more doors leading into the grove, and we’ve confirmed there are no other goblins about. The man was just fine and returned to the grove. What do you have there?” She looks at your Gandalf stick.

[A big stick. Wanna take a look]? You hold it out to her.

She grabs it and tilts it back and forth as she examines it, her eyes briefly glowing. “Interesting. Looks like it’s been enchanted to entangle creatures it hits. I prefer the staff I’m using now, so we should probably sell this one when we get the chance.” She hands it back to you. “Find anything else?”

“No, only that,” Astarion answered before you could.

‘Oh, he’s pocketing the gold. I mean, that is classic rogue behavior.’ You go along with it and nod. {Deception (with advantage) = 16, success}.

With nobody having anything else to add, you all make your way back towards the entrance and continue westwards towards your original destination. You squint once you leave the cave, having to readjust to the outside sunlight. You quickly glance at the sky, noting the sun’s position. It’s definitely late-afternoon by now. You quickly come across a fork in the road: the main path continues west, but a smaller path breaks off to the north.

Tav’s attention snaps towards the northern path. “People up ahead. Something’s wrong.”

You focus for a second and hear the voices Tav must have noticed. And on the northbound path you go. You soon see the source of the voices: Two humans hovering over an injured dwarf lying on the ground.

“You’re a True Soul,” the woman says to the dwarf. “You can’t die. Please stay with us.”

“I don’t think he’s conscious,” the man says. “Can you hear us, Ed?”

Tav boldly approached, the human woman’s attention shifting from the dwarf to Tav, and then towards your group as a whole. “You!” She holds out her hand in a warding motion. “Not a step closer.” She glares at your group when suddenly you see a glowing red mark over her right eye suddenly appear. The glow soon fades and the mark disappears from view just as quickly.

‘...Um… okay?’

Tav glances down at the fatally injured dwarf, then looks back at the woman, her eyebrows raising in a worried manner. “His wounds look deep. I might be able to help.”

“He’s hurt badly. An owlbear got him deep. If there’s anything you can do…” The human man pleads.

“I’m watching you,” the woman allows Tav to approach, but her eyes never relax from their glare.

Tav kneels down next to the dwarf and locks eyes with him. They’re silent for a few seconds before the dwarf speaks.

“She is a True Soul. Mind her. She will- she- she…” His words lose their strength as he runs out of breath and fully goes limp. He’s dead.

“Edowin,” The human man collapses to his knees. “Ed! Please!”

“He’s with the Absolute now,” the woman’s gaze turns sorrowful, no longer focused on Tav or your party. “You’re…” Her gaze remains soft as it goes back to Tav. “You’re a True Soul. Edowin, our brother- he was chosen. Like you. Do you have orders for us? We were reporting to Edowin.”

Tav raises from her kneeling position and looks her straight in the eye, “Why are you out here? The wilderness is dangerous.”

“We know that all too well, ma’am, but… the Absolute sent us here.”

“We’re looking for fugitives,” the man explains. “Survivors from that ship that crashed farther west of here.”

‘West? Does that mean there was a second ship? Or maybe half of the ship crashed in the west, and the second half was where we crashed.’

“These fugitives- tell me more,” Tav commanded.

“We don’t know what they look like, but anyone who survived that crash is bound to be injured. That’s enough to get us started. The Absolute wants them found at any cost.”

“True Soul?”

“What…? Are you… are you testing us?” The man asks, taken aback. Tav remains stoic, giving no indication of her intentions.

“A True Soul-” The woman begins- “like you- has been chosen by the Absolute. You speak with Her voice. Your words are Her command. She grants you the power to enforce Her will. And when the time comes, the True Souls- you- will rule.”

“Oh, I like these two,” Astarion whispers next to you. “All zeal and no brains.”

[These two reek of cult.] {Performance = 19, Success}.

“Yes, but is it really a problem when we’re on the receiving end of their devotion?”

[Well, I’ve got anxiety, so… yeah, it’s not for me. You do you, though.] {Performance = 7, Failure}.

He frowns at you and crosses his arms. “It’s not like you’re a paladin who swore an oath to get rid of all cults or something, so don’t ruin it for me. I’m intent on milking this for all its worth.”

‘Not what I meant, but sure, go off, I guess.’

“A crude summary,” Tav lightly berates the woman. “You have more to learn of our faith, novice.”

“I’m sorry, True Soul,” she immediately concedes. “I… only repeated what I thought I knew. It seems the Absolute still has a great deal to teach me.”

“Perhaps you can be of help to make up for it- I’m looking for the druid Halsin.”

“I apologize, but I don’t know any druids.”

“Very well. Now for your orders: Return for now. Forget the owlbear. You’re still alive- so go.”

“And just… leave Ed?” The man looks torn between following Tav’s orders and avenging the dwarf. “I suppose… I suppose he’d want us to go on- find a way to honor his sacrifice.”

“May the Absolute guide us,” the woman says in place of a farewell before the two of them travel down the northbound path.

As soon as they’re out of earshot, Tav speaks, “They spoke of the Absolute- same as that goblin, Sazza. Curious.”

“Seems as though the Absolute’s attracting followers from all kinds of places,” Lae’zel comments.

Tav approaches the corpse and flinches. Her head and arms jerk awkwardly, as if she was fighting against her body’s movement. When her left arm raises, the body does too. You take a step back in surprise.

‘Holy shit, she’s got telekinesis!’

Her hand snaps shut into a fist as the dead dwarf’s neck snaps in a clean break and a tadpole crawls out of his eye. You grimace in disgust. The tadpole floats over to Tav and lands in her hand. As soon as it makes contact, Tav’s body relaxes and the corpse drops to the ground. She stares at it as she evens out her labored breathing, then stashes the tadpole away.

“Umm…” [Why are you holding onto that instead of, oh, you know, killing it]? {Performance = 4, Failure}.

“Don’t worry, it’s in safe hands,” she reassures, mistaking your question for a statement of worry.

[No, that’s not what I-] a frustrated sigh escapes your mouth. [Nevermind].

“Well, thankfully those two weren’t being very careful and left clear tracks. If we’re lucky, we can follow them back to their base,” Tav turns towards the way the pair went and waves for everyone to follow. “Come on. We should cover as much ground as possible.”

The trail slopes downward and twists to the left, leading towards a river. You notice a coffin sitting in the middle of the river, propped up against some rocks.

‘Why is there a coffin here?’

The river here is shallow and Tav leads you all across. You glance at the coffin as you pass it and are relieved to see it empty save for a wooden spoon, for some reason. A massive cave entrance looms on the other side of the river, an animal-made path leading to its maw.

“Owlbear tracks,” Tav informs the group. “Best not go inside- its nest is probably there.”

Instead, a natural ramp of dirt and stone shelves to the left leads upwards, out of the river bed. The footprints lead that way too. The first stone step is taller than half your body, and you grunt as you pull yourself up, your muscles complaining at the strain. The path evens out once the ground is level with the area on the other side of the river where you met the three cultists. The tracks head left, but a dog’s bark sounds out from the right, diverting your attention.

‘Is that a pupper I hear?’ Nobody can stop you from going to meet that dog. “Tav,” you get her attention. [Dog! That way! We gotta go!] {Persuasion = 20, Success}.

“A short detour wouldn’t hurt, I suppose,” she acquiesced to your request. “Lead the way, then.”

You take off in the direction of the barking. It’s not long before you smell iron-blood. ‘Oh no, please be okay mystery dog!' You follow the footpath around a decently sized tree and some small boulders to see two things: a white dog and a very blood corpse. As you approach, the dog growls at you, standing in front of the corpse protectively. You stop and kneel down before the dog.

“Hey there, pupper. It’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

The dog doesn’t relax at your words. It only barks and growls some more. Tav, now beside you, leans to the side and squints.

“It’s alright, Scratch. we’re not going to hurt you,” she says. At the mention of its name, the dog, Scratch, relaxes and begins wagging his tail and whines. He looks over to the corpse and barks a couple times.

You can’t resist the urge and reach out to pet him. He lets you for a bit, but ducks out of it to whimper next to the corpse. He doesn’t want to leave the dead man’s side. You reach out your hand in an offer for if he wants more pets. He sniffs at you, but doesn’t do more.

“When you’re ready, you can follow our scent back to camp,” Tav tells Scratch. Whether the dog understood or not, only time will tell.

“Is that smoke?” As you were about to go back to the trail, Shadowheart turned your attention to the north.

Small pillars of smoke could be seen in the near sky, as if a bunch of small campfires had been lit close together.

“Where there’s smoke, there’s fire, and where there’s fire, there’s Karlach,” Wyll spits out the devil’s name. “We have to go stop her before she wreaks havoc!”

He doesn’t let anyone get a word in before he’s dashing to the north. Everyone is quick to catch up to him, except you. You’re stuck in the rear, body tired and muscles complaining. You’re quick to come across a river, but Wyll is quick to jump from stone to submerged stone to make it across. Everyone was quick to jump across, leaving only you on the other side. You lifted your walking stick so that it wouldn’t touch the water and made your way to the edge of the boulder, even as it began to submerge, leaving you in ankle deep water. The gap looked to be about a meter. ‘I’m sure I can at least jump that far, right?’ You take a few steps back to get a running start. You charge and leap. {Athletics = 9, Failure}. Your foot lands on the opposing submerged boulder on the other side. You’ve made it! That is, until your foot slips and you fall backwards, into the water. A hand is quick to enclose around your forearm and yanks you back up, but not before your entire backside hits the water, leaving you dripping and cold.

“Do not slow us down, istik,” Lae’zel reprimands you as she lets go of your arm, having been the one to catch you.

[Sorry.] {Performance = 13, Success}.

“There’s a blood trail along the river bank,’ Wyll, having climbed out of the river, points out , now able to see the surrounding landscape.

You climb up more rocks to get on the same level as him, though he’s already started moving, leading the party to where the trail of blood goes. The river bank trail is soon headed off by a cliff, but the trail instead continues across the river via a fallen log for a bridge. That’s when you see her. The stunning woman whose visage your tadpole downloaded from Wyll’s brain straight into yours.

‘She’s here in person. She won’t disappear like smoke in the wind this time. I can stare all I want!’ She’s beautiful and looks strong enough to break you in half with her thighs alone. You’re enthralled. And then you remember your deal with your patron. ‘Nooooooo, I completely forgot! Aww, man. Well, a deal’s a deal.” You balance your stick against your shoulder and get ready to summon your instrument to cast Illusory Script.

«You’re lucky.» Astaroth’s voice halts your movements. «She’s a tiefling, not a devil. You don’t have to use your pick up line on her.»

‘Oh thank fuck!’ You practically sag in relief, grabbing back onto your staff with both hands.

You watch as Wyll and Tav cross the log and approach the tiefling woman, who does seem to be the source of the smoke. Afterall, she’s completely engulfed in flames, now crouching down and hunched over, head clutched in her hands, her back facing you. She looks like she’s in extreme pain.

“One horn. The stink of Avernus. Advocatus diaboli,” Wyll says as he stands over her curled form.

“Well I’ll be godsdamned,” she looks over her shoulder at him. “The Blade of Frontiers. Thought I’d shaken you for good. That’ll teach me to underestimate you.” The flames coming from her sputter out, leaving only small bits leaking out of her skin and licking her fingertips as she stands up to look Wyll in the eye.

‘...Tieflings don’t normally secrete fire from their pores, right?’

«No, they normally do not.»

‘Well, I guess that makes her even more hot, don’t you think?’

«…You know what. Just for that awful pun, I think you should still use that spell for her. Don’t worry, you don’t need to say that vile line, but with how much you’ve been, how do you say it? Simping? For her? How about you just flirt with her anyways.»

‘What? I can’t do that! I’ve never flirted with anyone before!’

«…Pft…Heh… Haha… hahhaha!» Astaroth tries to stifle his laughter, but he fails in the end.

‘Hey! Shut up! My anxiety isn’t my fault!’

«Sorry-ha - sorry, you’re just very fun to tease and I haven’t had a chance to banter like this in a long time.»

‘You’re lucky I like you,’ you’re quiet for a moment, then sigh. ‘But, I suppose there is something I can say to her. Not gonna use a spell though. It’ll be embarrassing if she understands me.’

“You’re the devil we’ve been hunting: Karlach, right?” Tav joins the tense conversation between hunter and not-actually-a-devil quarry.

“Bloody right,” Karlach confirms. “An honor to be chased by the Blade of Frontiers, but- agh!” She’s cut off by the pain of the tadpole acting up, her memories being shared with you.

It’s an intense, fiery heat, mirrored in the images of the hells flowing into you. You see armies of demons, a landscape of fire and blood, her read hands holding a great axe, tearing through body after body of the foes coming towards her.

«The Blood War.» Astaroth explains, his voice leaving a residual emptiness, the tone of someone who has been emotionally and mentally exhausted to the point of numbness. «A war between demons and devils that has been ongoing for eons.»

Karlach shakes her head as she’s freed from the tadpole’s sudden activness, “What was that?”

“Evidence. Proof that you’re a devil, a gladiator in the archdevil Zariel’s army,” Wyll pulls out his rapier and points it at her before falling into a battle-ready stance.

“I can explain, but it’s a whole situation. If you would just hear me out-” Karlach is cut off by her tadpole connecting with everyone else’s again.

You see her slicing through devils this time, not demons. She’s frantic, looking for a way out. She’s just a victim.

“She’s trying to trick us,” Wyll says. “Don’t believe her lies.”

“You saw the truth. I never wanted to serve Zariel. I was enlisted in her army against my will. Forced to fight, and fight I did.” Karlach’s eyes turn sad and pleading. “When I saw an opportunity to get away, I took it. I’m finally home- or near it, anyway.”

“You served her,” Wyll remains adamant on his position. “That’s enough to damn you.”

‘Woah, hey, let’s slow down a bit. This is sounding a whole lot like victim blaming and we’re not into that.’

“Stand down, Wyll,” Tav places a hand on his arm, enticing him to lower his sword. “You saw what I saw.”

He turns to Tav, not relaxing just yet. “You don’t know what your saying! You’re asking me to trust a devil!”

“Gods, you’re stubborn. Karlach’s not a devil, and you know it.”

“Listen to some sense, now,” Karlach adds. “I don’t want this to end badly for either of us. You know monsters, right? Better than anyone. Look into my eyes. Can’t you see I’m not what you think?”

“Shit,” He curses as he puts his blade away. “You really are no devil, are you? I’ve… I’ve been deceived.”

Karlach sighs out a breath of relief, “Thank the gods. Thought I was going to have to take your head.”

“You would have died in the attempt. But- there have been enough threats today.”

“Truce then, hey?”

“Aye. Truce.”

Karlach addresses the rest of your party, now that the tension has diffused. “I’m Karlach- but you already knew that. And you are…?”

Everyone states their names one at a time. You do as well, but add a little more.

“Mama warned me about women like you… I was hoping she was right”

Karlach looks at you confused, “Sorry soldier, but I won’t be able to remember all that.”

They’re (Y/N),” Tav explains. “They can’t speak common though, so I hope you're good at charades.”

“You can’t speak common? Not everyday you meet someone like that. Either way, well me. Nice to meet some friendlies around here. It’s been tough going so far. I may not be a devil, but I can put the Blade’s reputation to work. How would you feel about helping me kill some evil bastards? A little background, if your moral compass needs something to point at: You already know I fought in the Blood War. I was good. Really good. Turns out I’ve got a knack for killing demons. That made me a valuable asset. Zariel- the archdevil herself- made me as her personal attack dog. I played along until I could get the fuck out of there, but devils don’t like to lose their assets. Zariel liked it so little, she sent a bunch of goons, so-called ‘Paladins of Tyr,’ to take me back. Problem is, I’m not going.”

“Let’s send them back where they came from,” Tav accepts Karlach’s proposal.

“Fuck yes. They cornered me outside the tollhouse just up the hill. Doubt they’ve gone far after the scorching I gave ‘em. Then we can work on evicting this parasite and take Faerûn by the short hairs. Sound good?”

“She’s almost as scary as you, Lae’zel,” Astarion comments with a smirk. “So naturally she gets my vote.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Tav agrees.

“I’d hug you if it wouldn’t scorch your skin off,” Karlach grins brightly. “Phew, I’m getting all het up. Let’s make tracks!”

Do you guys like the battle descriptions, or would you prefer I only do them during significant fights, like boss battles/fights with significant story consequences? Take the poll here: Click me!

We’re doing contested rolls to see if our protag is aware of their habitual action of taking out their phone when they're bored. It’s a perception roll vs. a straight roll. Whenever I, as the author, stop writing and habitually reach for my phone for no good reason, I’m going to roll some dice. Be prepared, our protagonist could be found out at any time.

#astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #fanfic #bftt #sarrtie #maybe karlach x reader #you're definitely simping for karlach HARD tho

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merrinla · 7 months ago

Text

Shar Temple. Cut content - Necromancer

According to early access data, instead of Balthazar, there was another necromancer named Sevryn in the Shar Temple. Although this character has exactly the same ID as Balthazar, his background is very different from the release version. He was also very interested in Nightsong, or rather in her death. As for Nightsong, she was an unwilling avatar of Shar in the original plot. I didn't find any of Sevryn's audio files, but I tried to restore his text dialogue.

Synopsis: Players meet Sevryn in a crumbling temple ofthe Dark Goddess Shar. He has been locked within its walls for decades - he once came to claim the Nightsong's power, but she imprisoned him within its walls instead. Once locked inside, he and the Nightsong began to wage an eternal war. He sends wave after wave of skeleton minions to attack her, but her phantom-like shades are an even match for his army. They are at a stalemate. When players meet him, Sevryn is initially suspicious - he knows the doors are sealed, and expect they are a trick conjured by the Nightsong to kill him. During their conversation, he decides he can use the player instead - he tasks them with assassinating the Nightsong with a dagger that will absorb her powers. Players can choose to help him or not - but if they refuse, Sevryn will attack them. If they manage to kill the Nightsong with the dagger, he sets about a plot to build an empire of undead in the Underdark. Players may also choose to help Sevyrn's apprentice kill him instead. Sevryn looks upon his apprentice with disdain, and is fully aware that the novice plans to kill him. When he speaks, Sevryn refers to himself as 'we'. He has a tendency to talk to himself as well, working his thoughts out verbally - a side effect of decades of relative isolation. If he gets angry, he never quite raises his voice - he remains calm, but his words drip with poison. His one moment of true, unfiltered emotion comes if he tries to slow the development of the player's tadpole. He is horrified by the power he senses within it.

Sevryn: What's this? A soldier? An assassin? A fiend? Node Context: "Players have just greeted him. He's considering them - he believes them to be assassins sent by the Nightsong to kill him." Sevryn: Yes, another of the Nightsong's pawns, sent to slide a knife into Sevryn's back. Node Context: "With an edge."

Player: That wasn't the plan, but I'm happy to oblige. Sevryn: We will enjoy bending this one to our will. NodeContext: Preparing to attack the player. He is going to kill them and turn them into an undead minion.

Player: Who the hell are you? Sevryn: You know who we are. We see through this pathetic act. Node Context: "Players have asked who he is upon greeting him - but he thinks it is an act. He believes they were sent by the Nightsong to kill him."

Player: I am no one's pawn. Sevryn: What, then? The doors are sealed. Node Context: "Players have told him they do not work for the Nightsong. He doesn't believe them." Sevryn: She conjured you - admit it. Speak. Node Context: "Accusing the player of being sent by the Nightsong to kill him."

Player: What if she did? Sevryn: Impertinent. Arrogant. Foolish. Node Context: "Angry, but in a quiet, simmering way. Players have just threatened him." Sevryn: We will enjoy bending this one to our will.

Player Sharite: I am a servant of Shar. You and I are not enemies. Player Shadowheart: |We both serve Shar, right? I am not your enemy.| Sevryn: Oh, this is not our temple. We serve no goddess. We serve no one. Sevryn: But you serve the Nightsong's creator. Her source. You are on her side. Node Context: "Players have falsely assumed that the necromancer follows Shar - he does not. But the Nightsong does."

Player: The Nightsong is my target, not my master. [persuasion check] A) Success Sevryn: Oh, pitiable fool. The Nightsong cannot be taken. We have tried. B) Failure Sevryn: He/She dares answer us with falsehoods. He/She is wicked. He/She is a liar. Node Context: "Talking to himself, building with disdain. The player has just said something he believes is a lie."

Player: You've got it wrong. I'm not here to help her. [persuasion check] A) Success Sevryn: None can enter the temple. What are we to believe? Can it be true? Node Context : "Working out how the player came to be in the sealed temple." B) Failure Sevryn: He/She dares answer us with falsehoods. He/She is wicked. He/She is a liar.

Player: Then she's not an ally. She's competition. [religion check] A) Success Sevryn: Is it a ruse? Can we believe? Yes, it is true the Dark Goddess delights in the suffering of her flock. Node Context: "Coming over to the player's way of thinking - that Shar does not foster community amongst her flock, but competition. B) Failure Sevryn: He/She dares answer us with falsehoods. He/She is wicked. He/She is a liar.

Player: So be it. Another sacrifice for the Lady of Loss. Sevryn: Impertinent. Arrogant. Foolish. Sevryn: We will enjoy bending this one to our will.

Player: I wasn't conjured, and I have no interest in your petty feud. Sevryn: No interest in the Great War. No pawn of the Nightsong. Can it be true? Can we believe? Node Context: "Working out how the player came to be in the sealed temple."

Player: I have nothing to admit. I came in through the Underdark. Sevryn: None can enter the temple. What are we to believe? Can it be true? Node Context: "Working out how the player came to be in the sealed temple."

Sevryn: Yes, he/she smells of rivers. He/She smells of trees. Of the Underdark and Overworld and more. Node Context: "Speaking to himself, working out the possibilities. Sevryn: Tell us then - you breached the temple's seal. You walk these wretched halls. Sevryn: To what end? Why are you here, if not to aid the witch?

Player: Why are you here? Depends on whether the player asked questions to the necromancer Sevryn: Tsk. He/She dares ask us questions. Sevryn: Tsk. He/She still pesters us with questions. Node Context: "To himself, with disdain." Sevryn: Perhaps we will provide an answer, should he/she give us our own in return. Node Context: "Talking to himself, pondering." Sevryn: We ask you again - why are you here?

Player: I'm not telling you anything. Player: I'm not playing your little game. Sevryn: A pity. We must satisfy our curiosity with your corpse. Node Context: "Disdain falls, revealing evil curiosity"

Player: It doesn't matter. I'm here, and you look like you need saving. [persuasion check] A) Success Sevryn: We do not need a saviour. We are imprisoned, yes, but we have held our own against the witch for decades. Node Context: "Emphasis on 'Saving' - he comes across arrogant here. He doesn't want the player's help." Sevryn: Saving? No, we need retribution. We are owed it. Node Context: "Line begins somewhat ponderingly, before building up with bile. Emphasis on 'owed' in the final sentence. We are OWED it." Sevryn: You... you could be useful. Yes, you could be the one to do it. You could kill the Nightsong. Node Context: "Coming to a wondrous revelation. Emphasis on 'You' in the final sentence: YOU could kill the Nightsong" Player: My usefulness comes with a price. Sevryn: We have much to offer. Our powers are extraordinary. B) Failure Sevryn: Impertinent. Arrogant. Foolish. Sevryn: We will enjoy bending this one to our will.

Player: I need to travel through the temple. Player: I'm just passing through. Sevryn: He/She seeks the lands beyond. The towers of the moon. It is impossible. Node Context: "Players have told him they wish to pass through the temple. He has been trapped for decades, and knows of no way through." Sevryn: If the witch's shades do not thwart you, the temple will. Her cursed power spreads to its foundation. Sevryn: We came to take that power, but we were snared, trapped within these walls. That is why we are here. NodeContext: "Emphasis on 'that' - answering a question the player asked a bit ago 'Why are you here'?" Sevryn: There is no escape, no exit to the other side. Not while she still lives. NodeContext: "Thinks a moment before speaking. He's making a point - 'I've been here for years. I know there's no way through. You have to kill her to do it."

Player: I got in through one sealed door. I can handle another. Sevryn: She will stop you. But perhaps we can help. Yes, perhaps we can help each other. Node Context: "He's beginning to figure out his plan - the player will kill the Nightsong."

If the player has met Aradin and knows about Nightsong. Player: I seek the Nightsong. Player: I've come to collect the Nightsong. Player: The Nightsong is my target, not you. Sevryn: Oh, pitiable fool. The Nightsong cannot be taken. We have tried.

Sevryn: Yes, Sevryn sought the Nightsong, same as you. We were given shackles instead. Node Context: "Explaining how he was trapped in the temple."

Sevryn: You wish to know why we are here? We too came for the Nightsong. But she was not to be collected. Node Context: "Explaining how he was trapped in the temple. Responding to a question asked previously - he would answer if players answered his own question." Sevryn: The witch bent the temple to her will, trapping us within its walls. Don't you see? Sevryn: She is the temple. She is our prison. Node Context: "She' is the Nightsong - her curse has overtaken the entire temple."

Player: How long have you been here, exactly? Sevryn: We do not know. No, Sevryn does not count the years, but they are many. Node Context: "It's been decades." Sevryn: Years locked in an endless stalemate. A life wasted in this eternal war. Node Context: "He has been locked up for decades. He his bitter. He wants blood."

Player: The seal is broken. You can leave the way I entered. Sevryn: And let the Nightsong live? We cannot do that. It is unthinkable. Node Context: "Letting the Nightsong live is unthinkable to him. She has stolen his life." Sevryn: She has taken too much from us. No, the war must end. She must die. Node Context: "Starts calm but builds with bile."

Player: You failed. I won't. Sevryn: Oh, you will, so long as the witch lives. But perhaps we can help. Yes, our ambitions are aligned. Node Context: "Responding to the player saying 'You failed [to take the Nightsong]. I won't.' Begins to hatch a plan in his head - to have the player kill the Nightsong." Sevryn: You know of our torment, our bondage. You see how she slaughters my precious pets. Node Context: "His pets are his treasured army of skeletons. He sees them as his children." Sevryn: We are owed retribution. We are owed her death.

If the necromancer doesn't know that the player is looking for Nightsong. Sevryn: You... you could do it. You could kill the Nightsong. Dispose of her, and the path through will be clear. NodeContext: "Coming to a wondrous revelation. Emphasis on 'and' - this is a win-win situation for all involved." Player: I'll need more than safe passage if I'm going to do your dirty work. Sevryn: We have much to offer. Our powers are extraordinary.

If the necromancer knows that the player is looking for Nightsong. Sevryn: You... you could be the key. You could kill the Nightsong. Node Context: "Coming to a wondrous revelation."

Player: I'm here to collect the Nightsong, not kill her. Sevryn: She cannot be taken alive. Still, you will not leave empty-handed. Node Context: "'She cannot be taken alive' is said slowly - he has said this already, and he is re-emphasizing for the stupid player." Sevryn: We have much to offer. Our powers are extraordinary. Sevryn: Silence the Nightsong, and Sevryn will provide. Node Context: "If players kill the Nightsong, he will give them a reward."

If the player refused Player: I'm not killing anyone. Player: I don't think so. Sevryn: It was not a request. You needn't be alive to help us. Node Context: "Players have refused to kill the Nightsong for him. He's telling them that they will, once he turns them into an undead minion." Sevryn: Oh, he/she will make a fine addition to our collection. Node Context: "He is going to kill the player and turn them into an undead minion."

If the player has agreed Player: I have a tadpole in my head. Could you get it out? Sevryn: A tadpole. An illithid parasite. Fascinating. Node Context: "Players have just told him that they have a tadpole in their hadds." Sevryn: Get rid of it? No. But we could siphon its power, slow the transformation to a crawl. Sevryn: Time is not your friend. Sevryn can give you more - if you dispose of the witch. Node Context: "He will slow the tadpole's growth if players kill Nightsong." Player: I'm in. What do I need to do? Player: All right. Tell me what I need to do. Sevryn: The dagger! Plunge it into the Nightsong's stony heart. Sap her, drain her, and return the blade to us. Cinematic Node Context: "Pulls out and passes the dagger to the player." Node Context: "Explaining how to kill the Nightsong. Pulls the dagger out and passes it to the player as he says 'Sap Her'. Sevryn: You've seen the statue at the centre of the temple? The witch is at her feet. Sevryn: Our books will show you the way, past the temple's deadly tricks. Node Context: "Giving instructions on how to kill the Nightsong." Sevryn: Now go. We must plan. We must prepare. The Great War is almost won! Node Context: "Elated and excited, but still subdued. He is not the overexcitable type."

----------

Sevryn: The Nightsong still lives, yes this one speaks to us. Why?

Player: Should I be worried about those skeletons? Sevryn: Our children? No, they will not harm you. Not while you remain committed. Sevryn: But we will not hesitate to change their instruction should you step out of line.

If the player promised Nightsong to free her Player: The Nightsong is under my protection now. You will not harm her. Sevryn: The witch has broken your mind. You disappoint us.

----------

Sevryn: The Nightsong is dead. We feel it. We sense it. NodeContext: "Players have successfully killed the Nightsong."

Sevryn: Where is the dagger? Do you have it? Node Context: Players have told him that the Nightsong is dead, but they did not have the dagger. They have returned, so he is asking for it.

Sevryn: The dagger. Where is it? Give it to us! Node Context: "The dagger holds the essence of the Nightsong. He wants it back so he can claim it for himself."

Player: I think I'll be keeping the dagger for myself. Sevryn: He/She betrays us? Claims the dagger for his/her own? Node Context: "Talking to himself." Sevryn: It is useless to you. You die for nothing. Node Context: "About to attack. 'It' refers to the Nightsong-infused dagger that the player has decided to keep for themselves."

Player: I don't have it. Sevryn: Retrieve it. Quickly. Node Context: "The player has killed "

Player: Here. Driven into her heart, like you asked. Sevryn: We cannot believe it. Years of suffering, decades of miserable captivity - they are rewarded. Cinematic Node Context: "Player passes him the dagger. Necromancer holds it and inspects it, in awe." Node Context: "His ambitions are finally realised - he has claimed the Nightsong's power." Sevryn: The Nightsong's essence. Her power. It is finally ours.

If the player chooses to remove the tadpole as a reward. Sevryn: Oh, yes. Your tadpole. Your parasite. Node Context: "He has promised to slow the player's parasite in exchange for the dagger. Now that he has it, he will fulfill his promise." Sevryn: Come closer. Let Sevryn see. Cinematic Node Context: "Beckons the player closer." Node Context: "Beckoning the player so he can assess the tadpole in their head." Player: Step toward him. Sevryn: Yes. I can feel it. Squirming. Wriggling. Consuming. Cinematic Node Context: "Eyes closed, his hands hovering near the player's head." Node Context: "He is searching through the player's head, feeling out the tadpole." Sevryn: Damn! What... no! NodeContext: "The tadpole has rejected him - and it terrifies him. The only real moment of strong emotion from the Necromancer." Sevryn: We don't understand. What are you?! Node Context: "Horrified. He's tried to halt the tadpole's growth, but its power terrified him."

Player: Calm down. What happened? Sevryn: We do not know. We don not want to know. Node Context: "He does not want to know what the tadpole is. He would rather be ignorant - for his own sake."

Player: Did it work? Have you slowed it? Sevryn: No. No, we could not even touch it.

Player: Your reaction doesn't inspire confidence. Sevryn: It saw us. It laughed at us. Sevryn: It is not normal. It is... corrupted. Distorted. Perverse. Node Context: "The tadpole rejected him with powerful magic. It terrified him." Sevryn: Do not speak to us. Do not even think of us. Just leave. Now! Node Context: "Begging the player to leave - he is terrified of the tadpole."

If the player hasn't yet chosen a reward. Sevryn: Oh, you have served us well. We owe you an impossible debt. But perhaps a gift will suffice? Node Context: "The player has successfully killed the Nightsong, granting him incredible power".

If the player has chosen a rod as a reward. Sevryn: We have a gift for you, as promised. Yes, we made it. Necromancer gives resurrection rod to player. Node Context: "Promised the player a gift if they killed the Nightsong. Now that she is dead, he is fulfilling that promise."

Player: I'll take it. Thanks.

Player: Keep it. I have no use for it. Sevryn: You would refuse power? You baffle us. Yes, you are confusing. Node Context: "The player has refused a gift for their services in killing the Nightsong." Sevryn: We will only offer it once. Do not bother us by asking for it again. NodeContext: "Telling the player not to ask for another reward for killing the Nightsong."

An option if the player haven't yet mentioned their tadpole problem Player: There's something else I'd ask of you. I have a tadpole in my head - can you get rid of it? Sevryn: A tadpole? An illithid parasite? Oh, you grow more impressive by the moment. Node Context: "The player has just told him they have a Mind Flayer parasite in their head. He is fascinated." Next, the dialogue is exactly the same when the necromancer tries to remove the tadpole.

If the player have changed their mind about removing the tadpole Player: Actually, I'd prefer a different reward. Sevryn: You would keep the tadpole? We do see the appeal. Node Context: "Player has just refused the necromancer's offer to halt the tadpole's grwoth." Sevryn: Here. We do hope you use it well. Necromancer gives resurrection rod to player. Cinematic Node Context: "Hands player the rod of power." Node Context: "Giving player the gift he offered them for killing the Nightsong."

I'm not sure, but it's more likely an answer if the player stole the rod Sevryn: Hm. But we cannot find it. Perplexing. Our appreciation must suffice. Cinematic Node Context: "Pats his pockets down, confused." Node Context: "He goes to grab a reward promised to the player, but he no longer has it."

Sevryn: You may leave us. We have much to do. Node Context: "Pleased - the player has killed the Nightsong for him, and he now possesses his power."

Player: I'm curious. What abilities does that dagger give you? Sevryn: Ownership of the temple. Command of her shades. The ability to create more. Node Context: "Explaining the power he possesses, now that he holds the dagger containing the Nightsong's essence. Sevryn: That is what we expect. But we must study it. We must experiment.

Player: You're staying in the temple? Sevryn: Why would we leave? It belongs to us now. Node Context: "'It' refers to the temple - now that the Nightsong is dead, he controls it." Sevryn: We will build our army. A legion of undead. A cavalry of shades! Sevryn: None will dare oppose us. Our empire will rival Netheril itself. Node Context: "Explaining his plans now that he possesses the Nightsong's power."

Player: I can't let you do that. Sevryn: So quickly do you turn usurper. Your corpse will make a fine footsoldier. Node Context: "The player has just told him that they won't let him execute his plans for an undead empire after helping him gain the power to do so.

Player: Good luck with that. Sevryn: Good fortune is meaningless when one commands this kind of power. Node Context: "Player has just wished him luck on creating an empire - he feels he is too powerful now to need luck." Sevryn: Yes, we will subjugate fortune. We will warp and buckle it to our ambition. Node Context: Says 'fortune' with sarcastic disdain." Sevryn: But we appreciate the sentiment, worthless as it may be.

----------

If the player completed the quest to kill Nightsong and received a reward for it. Sevryn: We will not forget your assistance. Yes, we will remember your usefulness. Node Context: "The player has fulfilled the Necromancer's wishes - they killed the Nightsong and delivered the dagger that absorbed her power to him."

----------

If the necromancer has already tried to remove the tadpole. Sevryn: The worm sees through your eyes. Leave us, we beg you. Node Context: "Begging the player to leave - he is terrified of the tadpole."

----------

There is also a draft of the dialogue with the necromancer. I won't post it because it's not much different. The player didn't tell him about the tadpole, he sensed it himself and offered help in exchange for killing Nightsong. Also players could successfully lie that they killed Nightsong.

Besides, game files contained drafts of dialogues with the necromancer's apprentice, Myronus. These are raw, but I haven’t found anything better.

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Apprentice: |Master we have visit.|

Apprentice: |Please follow me.|

Apprentice: |It's been a while since we saw someone alive here.|

Apprentice: |Hello stranger.|

Player: |Who are you?| Apprentice: |I'm the apprentice of the necromancer.|

Player: |For how long have you been here?| Apprentice: |It's been so long that I can't remember.|

Player: |Are you here all alone?| Apprentice: |No, I live with my master.|

If players receive their reward for killing Nightsong Apprentice: |So you are who dealt with Noghtsong. You have my gratitude.|

Player: |Not my problem.| Apprentice: |Let me know if you change your mind.|

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If the player accepted the apprentice's offer to kill the necromancer Player: I've accepted another offer. You're the one to die. Sevryn: Myronus... we expected more from you than siding with our pathetic apprentice. Sevryn: Perhaps your corpse will be less disappointing.

If the player has talked to the apprentice and knows that he wants his master dead Player: Your apprentice wants you dead. I thought you should know. Sevryn: We know this. Poor Myronus cannot raise his hand against us. We find it... amusing. Sevryn: Do not give him another thought. We never do.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 datamine #bg3 early access #balthazar bg3 #nightsong

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thebawdybaldurian · 7 months ago

Text

Halsummer Day 5

First Argument/Disagreement

Winding down on SFW Halsummer! Though this prompt led to a NSFW scene that I’ll post on my Patreon.

As the tadpolers prepared to leave the Last Light Inn in search of the Nightsong, Halsin noticed that Minthara was also packing up her meager belongings. He went to find Tav, who was trying to dry her hair upside down near the fire after her bath. He placed his hand gently on her lower back to let her know he was there. “Nearly ready to head out,” she spoke through her knees, recognizing the gentle touch of his large hand. “Assuming I don’t catch my hair on fire, but Gods know when I’ll be able to wash it again.”

“Why is she coming with us?” He asked, summoning a light Gust of Wind to billow through her hair to help with the process.

“What?” She asked, shaking her fingers through her strands to check the dryness.

“Minthara. Why is she coming with us? Shouldn’t she remain here under the watch of the Harpers?”

“We have no idea what we are going to be facing once we get to this mausoleum. We need all the manpower we can get,” she tipped her head back up, her face flushed.

“I will be there with you this time,” he replied, smoothing her hair down.

“Yes, but I’d much rather throw her at a pack of shadow beasts than you,” she reached up and caressed his face. “I know you don’t like her, but she’s useful.”

“She’s dangerous,” he frowned, letting his hand linger on the nape of her neck, gently rubbing it with his thumb.

“How are you still a sweetheart when you are arguing with me?” She stood on her toes to kiss him, hoping to sway him. He kissed her back, but let out a low growl in his throat, indicating his frustration with her.

“I’m not arguing…I’m just…You only saw a glimpse of Minthara in the goblin camp. She had those beasts torture me for days. She told me how she was going to destroy my entire grove,” he finally pulled away.

“Believe me, I want to kill her for what she did to you…but to be fair, she was still under the influence of the Absolute,” Tav replied. “That doesn’t excuse her behavior at all, but it is something to consider.”

“But how much is that influence versus the natural temperament of her kind?” Halsin gently rebuked her. “The drow are ruthless. What is to stop her from turning on all of us once we find this Nightsong?”

“Nothing really, expect perhaps her want for vengeance. If she makes a play for it, then we’ll kill her. We vastly outnumber her. Regardless, she will be closely watched at camp. Any doubts to her allegiance and she is gone…alright?”

He frowned, chewing his lip slightly while he studied Tav’s face. Her stubbornness was endearing sometimes, but today was not one of those occasions. “Alright,” he finally sighed. “But don’t think I won’t gloat a little if she does turn on us.”

“My love, I will make you a honey-soaked cake that says ‘you were right’ on it, if that happens.”

“This is the first I am hearing about you being able to cook,” he teased, pulling her closer. “You certainly don’t contribute at camp.”

“Ooooo!” She purred, grinning widely. “You’re sassy this morning. I think Astarion is starting to rub off on you…it’s kinda cute.”

“I will show you exactly how cute if we don’t get a move on,” he growled, squeezing her backside.

“Is that right?….Well…since this was our first argument…should we have make up sex in that washroom real quick?”

#halsin #bg3halsummer #Halsin x Tav #halsin silverbough

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seluniite-archived · 1 year ago

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7. Do they have their own personal quest that spans the course of the game? Can it take different branching paths depending on the choices the Player Character makes?

𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙿𝙰𝙽𝙸𝙾𝙽/𝚃𝙰𝚅 𝙰𝚂𝙺 𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃

I freakin' love this question tbh and yes. Eira is a fairly new cleric when the events of the game begins. She's got this deeply rooted self-doubt thanks to her trauma, but tries to handle herself with grace, feeling that Selûne wouldn't have bestowed her with these gifts had she thought her unworthy. She's always been one to put her faith in the Moonmaiden without question.

A COMPLETE EIRA COMPANION GUIDE

【 ACT I: CONFRONTING / TALKING ABOUT HER TRAUMA 】

Eira is a pleasant cleric, and upon meeting her, Tav will learn that she is quite enthusiastic about helping others, albeit a bit nervous. She's fairly easy to recruit and shows interest in helping find Halsin (she has already met him before Aradin's party sets out), but worries about the goblins that have set up camp at the old temple of Selûne.

She is not quick to spill on what has happened to her. She harbors a lot of survivor's guilt, and so much of her self-doubt comes from wondering why she would have been given her abilities when she was in such a fearful and vulnerable position. Losing the only person she's ever loved (Kasimir protecting her, taking the fall, and literally dying on her) in such a manner makes her constantly fearful that she might fail those around her.

Harboring all of that guilt without an outlet is why she completely loses it upon first walking into the Goblin Camp. If she slaughters everything in sight, she will be filled with so much guilt and dissatisfaction, even though these goblins have done some horrible shit, because she isn't one to act in such a manner. She's always been one to approach situations in a very diplomatic way. Tav would have the option of persuading her to not act so rashly, and despite a higher DC, she would approve and apologize. If they fail the persuasion check, she will disapprove and cause the goblins present to go hostile.

After the Goblin Leaders are defeated and Halsin freed, a GOOD approval rating will allow Eira to open up about how she got the scar on her neck. She will mention the attack on the temple, but isn't ready to talk about Kasimir just yet, so she will let Tav know that she narrowly escaped and the Moonmaiden answered her prayers by way of gifting her with her abilities. Trying to pry into her mind and learn more will earn HIGH disapproval from her, but a DC10 Insight will let you know that she is holding back on telling you more. She won't share more at this time, but will express that she feels like she's a lot worthier than she gave herself credit for, and will thank Tav for being such a great companion.

At the tiefling party, she is allowing herself to have fun for the first time in...probably ever. She gets silly drunk and giggly. If you're attempting to romance her and have a high enough approval, there won't be sex, but she will express that she's only ever been with one person and fears how inexperienced she is. The truth is, she's afraid of getting closer to someone in a romantic manner because Kasimir's death hurt more than anything. I imagine there will be a nice stroll through the forest and the option for a kiss in front of some sweet backdrop.

【 ACT II: CONFRONTING HER SELF-DOUBT 】

I like the possibility of a corruption arc for Eira, and have considered exactly how this might go down.

GOOD PATH: Upon meeting Isobel, she is fangirling. A very "I wanna be her when I grow up" moment. If Marcus fails at taking Isobel, then things will continue on. She will be relieved and will want to help Isobel in whatever way they can so that the cleric can finally catch a break. If you kill Isobel, Eira will leave the party.

The Gauntlet of Shar is another test. She's been trying to level with Shadowheart until now, but failing to convince SH not to kill the Nightsong or killing the Nightsong yourself will lead Eira to leave your party for good. If the Nightsong is freed and she discovers that Dame Aylin is her goddess's daughter, she will be overcome with admiration and just get down on one knee and bow. At this point, she feels more confident in her abilities and feels that she is worthy of the gift bestowed upon her by Selûne, which I do believe both Aylin and Isobel will confirm.

CORRUPTION PATH: If Marcus takes Isobel and the Last Light Inn falls, then Eira will attempt (and fail) to keep the barrier up, but realizes she isn't strong enough - she is nowhere NEAR Isobel's level. And this pisses her off and fills her with a lot of grief once she sees the shadow curse take down everyone at the Inn. Once again, she has failed while those around her have perished.

She's angry and feeling betrayed by the Moonmaiden; wallows in that and lets it fester, but the true corruption possibility will not present itself until the Gauntlet, where I feel Shar will attempt to whittle her way into Eira's mind and corrupt her as you complete each gauntlet task. She becomes noticeably more jaded and even callous as you do. By the time you reach the Nightsong, Eira will actually volunteer to be the one to execute her if Shadowheart isn't present (if Shadowheart is present, then she will simply stand back and watch).

You get one more chance to convince her not to fall into the bullshit.

ROMANCING: Either pivotal point would allow Eira to open up about her fear of losing another person that she loves, but she will confess feelings either way, whether true, unconditional love, or lust. The good path is sweet and you get sweet shmex, and the corrupted path is uh...feral. You get feral shmex. You're either making love to her or getting fucked by her either way, congratulations.

SHADOWHEART: I feel like Eira's arc can also work in tandem with Shadowheart's. It would still be up to Tav to save SH, but I feel like the Moonmaiden ultimately set this path out for Eira as well, and she finds that her purpose had to do with her own potential as well as the potential to help others through her goddess's teachings. In Eira's good arc, I think she would react to Shadowheart not giving in to Shar much like how Karlach reacted to Astarion not sentencing all those vampire spawn to death. Just SO PROUD.

【 ACT III: GARRICK KORLYS 】

I think the conclusion of Act 2 effectively concludes Eira's main arc, but getting to Baldur's Gate comes with the optional opportunity to discover that her brother, Garrick, has been in debt with the Guild for some time and has been working to pay off his debt via working for them. Depending on Eira's arc, she can either refuse to help him (unlikely, but corrupted Eira has become super jaded) or try to find a way to get him out of debt.

I didn't do the Guild side quest, so this part is still sort of pending as I finish my second playthrough. I wanna rope Gortash into this somehow just to make it a little more difficult on Eira and her brother and what it would mean for his future, but TBD.

This presents an opportunity to recruit Garrick as an ally in the final battle.

ROMANCING: Once the Elder Brain is defeated, then Good Eira will likely comment on how she has always wanted to open an orphanage, and how she loves healing, but fighting is not exactly her expertise. If you're romancing her, then there's the option of encouraging her to pursue her dream and settling down or persuading her that she is cut out for the adventurer's life with you. As for Corrupt Eira...she's responded to love much in the same way that Ascendad Astarion or Justiciar Shadowheart has. Very flippant and distracted by a newfound darkness.

And that's what I got, thank you if you read through all this because holy shit.

#act 2 and 3 spoilers under the cut #( THIS IS STUPID LONG AND FOR WHAT )#( yes i have thought about this why do u ask )#( HONESTLY big fank u to emma for sowing the seeds of that isobel death arc with their prompt on alkas xoxo )#✧ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 ( headcanon ).#long post //#✧ 𝐢 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞 ( answered ).

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mt-musings · 4 months ago

Text

The Last Silverboughs

Halsin struggles to put his past to rest, but it's haunting him in more ways than he realizes. He'd thought his time in the Underdark was long behind him, an unpleasant pitfall of youthful hubris, but remnants of his captivity remain, the youngest of which unwittingly stumbles to his rescue.

Lythra can't stop running from her past--hasn't, since she managed to make it out of the Underdark. She has no love for Menzoberranzan, or her House, or anything she left behind in the dark. Or nearly anything.

Still, she'd rather die than return--a prospect all the more likely with a tadpole jammed behind her eye. But perhaps, with the help of a renown druidic healer, she can go back to what remains of her half-life in the sun.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Read on AO3

Halsin's chest heaved as he stared around the cell they’d managed to shove him in, trying to calm his racing heart.

Everything had gone wrong—Aradin and his band of mercenaries had been far greener than they’d led him to believe and there had been far, farmore enemies than they’d anticipated. Half the group he’d come with was dead or close to it and he hadn’t a clue if a single one of them had managed to make it out of the camp alive.

And even still, he was no closer to finding the Nightsong.

He couldn’t expect help from the Grove—they weren’t fighters, not anymore, not after their number had been decimated a century before, when the mantle of First Druid had been unceremoniously dropped on his shoulders.

A century, and he’d still yet to find a cure for the Shadow Curse and he found himself caged once more, just like when he’d been a brash young druid.

Perhaps he was still the same sort of fool.

~~~

Everything hurt and she was covered in shards of stone, half buried in rubble. All she could smell was blood and vicious Night and everything was so deafeningly silent.

She was alone, in the pitch darkness, utterly and absolutely alone.

She’d killed them. In her fear and incompetence, she’d killed them. She let out a ragged, silent sob as she began to claw her way from the stone. Maybe, just maybe she was wrong, she hadn’t—

Lythra woke with a start, sitting straight up. It was still early, the sun barely cresting over the horizon, the soft sound of snoring filling the camp.

Her heart hammered in her chest, her breath coming too fast. She clapped a hand over her face, forcing herself to calm, to slow her heart and her breath.

It had been a long time since she’d dreamed of the tunnel, of being half-buried alive, of the hours it took to pull herself free, of—

She dug her nails hard into the skin of her thigh, stopping the train of thought. It wouldn’t help, wouldn't change anything.

Nothing would. She got up from her bedroll at the edge of camp and crossed to the little stream, splashing water over her face. She took a couple steadying breaths before shifting to look back, surveying her newest traveling companion with distrustful interest.

It wasn’t every day you met an undead, necromantic priest. Course she wasn’t quite sure exactly what he was. He seemed powerful, which usually meant some sort of Lich, but he also didn’t feel remotely evil enough. Truthfully he didn’t seem evil at all, just kind of judgy in a bored sort of way.

She sighed, sitting back on a flat rock as she stared at him.

“Good morning. Did you sleep—well, do you sleep?” She asked, fumbling as he stared at her with those haunting eyes.

“No.”

“No you didn’t sleep, or no you don’t sleep.”

“No-o.”

“Alright, well fuck me, I guess,” she hissed to herself before clearing her throat, raising her voice enough to carry. “Do you need anything? We haven’t found a lot of stuff, but we have some spares. Maybe some pants?” She asked, looking at his ragged robes. Who knew how long he’d been in that tomb—had he been asleep then? Had he been awake?

“No.”

She heaved a sigh, swearing under her breath. “Godsdamnit.”

His eyes flashed, and she flinched unconsciously back at his reproach.

“Sorry,” she said, reflexively.

“You would do well not to invoke their ire.”

“Who? The gods?”

“Yes.”

Lythra bit back a snappish response. She highly doubted a single god gave a shit about what she was doing, except maybe Lolth, and that was only to ensure she suffered for her lack of devotion.

Vindictive bitch.

Withers stared at her, almost like he could read her thoughts. She narrowed her eyes, thinking really hard about a trio of fluffy purple spiders dancing across the beach, each wearing a different fancy hat. He didn’t react which either meant he couldn’t read her thoughts, which she preferred, or he had no sense of whimsy, which would be disappointing.

“Alright, well, um—enjoy the staring, I guess. I’ll check back later.”

“Do as thou wilt,” he said, back to his usual tone of disinterest. She sighed and shook her head, climbing back to her feet. It was still early, but a few of the other seemed to be waking. Astarion’s tent was noticeably empty, though where he’d slunk off to was beyond her. Gale crouched by the fire, coaxing the coals back to life. He had an assortment of ingredients they’d managed to forage the day before laid out next to a few cooking pots.

“Good morning,” he replied cheerily. He was in markedly better spirits than the night before. She forced a smile, hoping it didn’t look like it and took an apple from the pile.

“Morning,” she replied, taking an overlarge bite of the fruit.

“Talking to our new skeletal friend, I see. He is a fascinating enigma. Anything interesting come up?”

“He doesn’t want pants,” she replied with her mouth full. Gale made a choking sound that might have been a horrified laugh.

He wasn’t bad, really, until he got talking about the Weave and high magics and all that shit. Then her stomach started doing that uncomfortable sort of swooping she got right before she puked, and it wasn’t really Gale’s voice she was hearing, but her mother’s scheming and plotting and whatever cruel new magical experiment she had in store—

“Lythra? Are you quite alright?”

She shook her head, pulling herself from her thoughts. “Sorry. I—I just got lost in thought. Still waking up, I guess.”

“No worries. You’ll be right up to snuff after a spot of breakfast.”

She just smiled and nodded, eyes flicking over to the trees at the edge of camp just as Astarion pushed his way through, looking almost startled to find other people awake.

“Oh—hello.”

“Good morning,” Gale said brightly. “We’ve got the early bird crew here.”

“It certainly seems so,” he replied, nose wrinkled slightly at the thought.

“What were you doing out in the woods?” She asked, watching his face carefully.

“I—well, I was checking our perimeter, darling. It wouldn’t do for a stray pack of goblins to come murder us in the night.”

“A good idea, I’m glad you thought of it! I must admit I was a bit to caught up in my melancholy last night to start thinking of logistics, but I have a good feeling about today. I bet if we find that Grove those rangers were talking about they’ll have someone who can help.”

“Yes, well, just trying to be helpful,” he said with a charming smile, his eyes flicking over to her face. She stared back, impassive. His jaw twitched in irritation. She just finished off her apple, spitting out the seeds and tossing the stem into the fire.

Astarion stared at her disgustedly. “You’re not supposed to eat the whole thing, like some beast. Honestly, are you sure you’re not some sort of wildling?”

“Why does it matter?” she retorted. She knew better than to waster food, had survived on little enough.

“It’s not civilized!” He said, far more irritated than she would have guessed. She stooped and grabbed another apple, polishing it on her sleeve.

“Oh,” she said, nodding as if his words were some sort of revelation. Then she bit directly into the bottom of the apple, staring him dead in the eyes.

“Oh, aren’t you just a lark,” he sneered, shaking his head before stomping off back to his tent. She just grinned after him, thoroughly enjoying his annoyance.

~~~

Astarion watched as Lythra leapt from the small hill they’d climbed before stumbling upon some sort of goblin raiding party. She cut down the fighter closest to her, her movements graceful and perfectly balanced between her two blades.

It was an odd sort of fighting style, one he didn’t recognize, not the typically brutish duel-wielding of martial fighters, nor the sort of efficiency of movement he favored with his own daggers.

Another irritating mystery.

She was an utterly infuriating creature, all the more so for her unpredictability. If only she was the sort of dullard her piss-poor manners suggested, then at least he’d know what to expect, how to play his hand.

At least she was competent, he thought as he fired an arrow at one of the worgs attacking the mercenaries at the gate. He’d initially pegged her as a weakling, until she smashed her forehead into his nose with all the grace of a yeth hound. As if wandering the unwashed Wilds wasn’t enough, he also seemingly had to depend on the most feral moon elf he’d ever met as his benefactress.

The gods were ever creative in their cruelty.

Still, they dispatched the goblin contingent without too much trouble. They followed quickly after the mercenaries, the gate slamming down behind them.

He could hear shouting just inside and found the merc from the gate practically foaming at the mouth in anger as he screamed at the old tiefling commander.

“There are children here, you fool!” the commander yelled.

“We was running for our lives.”

“You led them straight to us! And you let them take the druid too! Unbelievable!”

“Druid? There was no druid with that lot,” Lythra interject, striding forward to the two incensed men.

“We’d all be dead if you stalled any longer,” the merch spat at the tiefling, completely ignoring her.

“My duty is to this camp!”

“Well, godsforbid you risk your precious tail. But I shouldn’t be surprised. Foulbloods ain’t known for courage.”

He watched her bristled at the slur. She glanced between the tiefling and the merc, noting the way his fist curled, preparing to strike the older man. She lashed out quicker than a viper and cracked him across the jaw, sending him crumpling in a heap.

She kicked him hard in the ribs for good measure. That, at least, made him laugh.

“Well—that’s that I suppose. I’m Zevlor,” the tiefling said, shaking his head as if to remove the display from his mind.

“Lythra,” she said with a nod, not a hint of that shit-eating smirk she’d tormented him with this morning. “What’s going on?”

“We’re refugees, from Elturel. We’re trying to make it to Baldur’s Gate.”

Elturel—well it was no wonder they were trying to get as far away from that place as they could manage. He doubted Elturel had any place left for Tieflings after the Descent. Of course whether anywhere else did was as much of a mystery. He made a face as she asked about whatever wretched ritual the druids were conducting—as if it mattered half a toss. What should they care if they kicked all the Tieflings out? Surely, the wriggling worms behind their eyes took precedence. He needed to find a way to control it, before it turned him into a disgustingly slimy mind flayer.

Though it would still be preferable to returning to Cazador.

He huffed a sigh as she finally found out where they could hunt down a healer and finished talking to the old bastard. He slunk along behind her, wrinkling his nose as he fell into step next to her. She smelled of campfire smoke and blood, though there was something intoxicating about the scent, more than its usual allure.

“You’re bleeding,” he spat, the words almost an accusation.

She glanced down at her arm, where a blade had sliced clean through the leather of her sleeve to her flesh.

“Huh. Guess I am,” she replied, seemingly unbothered. Astarion pictured throttling her until that stupid face of hers turned blue. Of course, with his luck the freak would be into it and he’d be back at square one.

Not only was she supremely unbothered by bodily harm, she seemed to feel the need to stop and talk to and assist every wretch they passed. He didn’t care if a trio of idiots set out into the wild to almost definitely get murdered by goblins—that was their right, as morons. He also couldn’t care less about some little tiefling child being punished by the druids—if she was a poor enough thief to get caught by a bunch of hopped-up tree huggers, she deserved what she got.

But nooooo, she had to stick her neck out for the little criminal, and promise to aid the tieflings’ departure from the Grove.

And now she’d managed to get poisoned by the second-rate healer, as if they didn’t already have entirely too much to deal with.

Well, if anyone was going to have the pleasure of killing the vicious little thing it was going to be him. He lunged forward, slashing his dagger across the wretched woman’s neck before she could turn on the rest of them. Lythra just stared dumbly at the body for a long moment, her skin taking on a sickly, grayish hue. Gale crossed to the stone door and shut it, lest any of the other druids wander in unbidden.

“Ooooh, they’ll notice that,” she said finally, voice faint. She wobbled, her legs giving way just as the nasty little healer had taunted. Shadowheart darted forward, helping her to settle on the ground. Gale gingerly picked up the branch the healer had used, face darkening.

“That’s Kelemvor’s Kiss. It’s—well,” Gale said off, looking away.

“She needs—oh, it’s got to be a powerful antidote. I don’t—“ Shadowheart broke off looking around frantically, as if she expected a box labeled ‘Lethal twig antidote.’ Both she and Gale turned to the stone table covered in al sorts of alchemical nonsense, flipping frantically through books. Lythra huffed a pained laugh.

“What could possibly be funny about this?” He spat, glaring at her.

“It’s Kelemvor’s Kiss,” she said, still chuckling.

“So?”

“Withers—he told me off this morning. Said not to invoke the gods’ ire. Ha! Cryptic bastard—at least he’s funny.”

“You really are losing it,” he said, turning to rifle through the healer’s pockets.

“It’s the elixir of Silvanus, its a reduction of theriac brewed with mugwort. Shit, it needs some sort of blessing. I don’t suppose you know any of Silvanus’ blessings, Shadowheart?”

“It’s not my area of expertise.”

“What’s it supposed to look like?” Astarion asked without looking up. Gale consulted the book once more.

“A dark olive green with a sort of golden shimmer to it.”

“What about that?” He asked, tossing a greenish potion to Shadowheart. It had a vaguely divine feel about it. She nearly fumbled it and gave him a scathing look before popping the cork and giving it a sniff. She turned toward Lythra, who had somehow gotten paler, a sheen of sweat coating her skin, her breaths shallow, her eyes closed.

“Here, this should be it,” she said, carefully tipping the potion down her throat. It was a few more moments before she opened her eyes, breaths evening. Shadowheart leaned forward, checking her vitals.

“I think—I think that did it. Though perhaps you should rest, now.”

“I’m fine,” she said, her voice too breathy still. “We need to—we need to move the body before someone sees it. Shit,” she swore as her legs still refused to support her.

“Astarion and I can handle it, surely. You just take a breather,” Gale said genially, and she nodded, though he saw unease creep onto her face before she dropped her eyes to her lap. Astarion glared at him, displeased to be volunteered, but stooped anyway, grabbing her ankles and leaving Gale with her very bloody shoulders. They fumbled about for only a second for somewhere to stash the corpse before he recognized the hidden door in the back of the chamber for what it was and the circlet as its key. Then it was simple enough to hide her in the clouds of noxious gas in the room behind the door, and for Gale to magic away the puddle of blood.

Shadowheart met them at the door.

“We should rest, for the night.”

“Is it not working?” Gale asked, brow furrowing.

“It—it is. Just, slower, than it should.”

“Could it be the tadpole?”

“No—I think it’s something else. I—she’s smaller, and it was a lot of poison.”

“Poor thing,” Gale said sympathetically, glancing back at where Lythra was seemingly drowsing. Astarion, however, kept his eyes on the cleric.

She wasn’t exactly lying, but it was clear enough she wasn’t telling the whole truth.

What, then, could dull the effects of the Great Tree Hugger Himself’s own blessing?

As if he didn’t already have enough to worry about.

#halsin #bg3 #drow tav #astarion x tav #named tav #gale dekarios #shadowheart #slow burn

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bunbunbon02 · 4 months ago

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"I no longer dream, only nightmares of those who died”

Howdy! I've finally had time to work on the next part of the story about my friend and I's tavs from BG3! This is part 4 and it is going to broken into smaller parts just because of how big I am planning this part to be. Hope you enjoy! WC:728 Previous part here!

Astarion rolled his eyes after Wendigo, or Nyx, walked away from them. Honestly, it was confusing trying to keep up with everything that has happened in the weeks he has traveled with Creed. He loved the display of power from the female wizard, but if this was the same woman Creed talked about in camp, he wasn’t amused. “You gotta be joking...that's the Nyx you've told me about? This—this person that you talked so highly about that would take a blade for you in battle?” Creed was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t even hear what Astarion was saying. He thought he knew who his sister was, but did his memory betray him? Was she truly gone? Creed refused to believe whatever Nyx did was just a pure display of power. She would never just kill people without a reason. “There’s something else happening here...besides the obvious—Nyx isn’t like this I-” “It’s been months since you’ve seen her. People change, darling.” Astarion interrupted Creed. Deep down, Creed knew that already. He knew people could change because he had seen it within the group he travels with, but it didn’t change the fact that this was his sister. He wanted to know why she turned so cold and heartless.

“You're right…” It was hard to admit that Astarion was right, but there was no point in arguing about it right now. They had to meet up with her at some point, finish their journey here, and continue the road to Baulder’s Gate.

They restocked on supplies and tried to avoid talking to many people, so they didn’t run the risk of blowing their cover. Then they went to meet Nyx outside, where she told them she would be. When Creed saw her, he noticed how easy it was for her to blend in with the others. She didn’t even look phased by everything going on here, and the way people would look at her with fear was rather a beautiful sight, but Creed would never admit those thoughts out loud. He had his own secrets and holes in his memories, so maybe now that he found his sister, she could give him some form of closure; maybe make him realize he’s not much different than her. Maybe once this is all over, she will be willing to put those pieces together, but there’s always a fine line between hopefulness and naivety. Before Nyx saw Creed’s party approaching her, she quickly put a dark violet fabric into her pocket. That didn’t go unnoticed by Astarion, but he wouldn’t bring it up. They were all ready to head out on their mission to help Nyx just keep up the appearance of True Souls. Creed saw how she picked up a lantern that glowed with a beautiful light. Almost like a full moon. “You’ll need this to protect all of you from the shadows.” Creed took the lantern while still trying to resist the urge to ask why they needed it, but quickly remembered that anyone who doesn’t have the Moon maiden’s blessing, or anyone who is a follower of Shar, couldn’t walk freely in the shadows. He could see how Nyx quickly gave it over. Did she feel so disgusted by how Creed changed, or was she afraid of him? This seemingly powerful woman being afraid of him was never a thought that had crossed his mind. “Where exactly are we going?”

Creed asked the question they all wanted to know. The only information they were given was that Nyx needed to find this guy named Baltazar. “There’s a Grand Mausoleum located about north-west of here; there’s an entrance to the Temple of Shar, where supposedly Baltazar last was ordered to go.” “Temple of Shar? Shadowheart would’ve had a field day if she were here…” Creed thought to himself. Shadowheart was told to stay in camp by the others until they found information about the Nightsong, but after finding Nyx, plans had to change. He can handle Shadowheart being mad at him, but working with someone who is supposedly on the enemy side could lead to some complications. Shadowheart would’ve tried to talk Creed out of even doing all of this, and maybe she would’ve been right, but he needed answers. He needed to know what happened to the sister he remembered.

“Alright… lead the way.”

#bg3 #baulder's gate 3 #baulders gate 3 #bg3 durge #bg3 tav #gale dekarios #bg 3 astarion #bg3 gale #baulders gate tav #bg3 fandom #I dont know what I am doing

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feedthepheasants · 5 months ago

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begged & borrowed time | gale dekarios - chapter 21 out now!

hi everyone! Begged & Borrowed Time | GALE DEKARIOS has finally received an update. i had some personal things come up, followed by a halting bout of writer's block. i've been working on some smaller writings as of late to try and get me back in tune, and i was finally able to get this chapter ready for sharing.

preview is below if you're interested in a preview before heading over to AO3. as always, fic stats: 21 chapters [in progress] | wc: 67,979

excerpt from chapter 21, "the deal" [wc: 755] ; chapter takes place after the end of act 2 fight

What could I say? Gale is right – I’d pushed him away for some time, and then I’d gone with Karlach, Lae’zel and Shadowheart to find Balthazar and the Nightsong. We’d been gone for a handful of days, but I’d welcomed it, unable to look Gale in the eye because of how much I’d wanted him.

But that night at Last Light, just before going to face Ketheric – how many days had it been since then? That night, we were so close – we’d crossed a line, even – and he still said nothing to me about Mystra’s charge.

“But you could have,” I press, “and you didn’t. Would you have said goodbye, if I hadn’t stopped you?” I ask. “Or were you just going to make some bold, daring sacrifice to have your name immortalized in the histories, and expect no one to grieve you?” Gale says nothing. “You had time before we’d left for Moonrise, and you still chose to keep me in the dark.”

As soon as I say the words, I realize that Gale had tried.

He’d tried to, and I was so, so angry at first when he’d told me he’d tried. My chest aches at the memory: when we’d danced that night by the fire, I’d told him of my fears of losing him – of losing any of my companions. He’d gently broached the subject, saying that if it came down to it, any one of us would make a sacrifice of themselves if it meant the others would walk away. Gods, he had asked me what I wanted to do when we’d made it out of here and taken down the Absolute. He’d tried to get my attention after our kiss, when I was flustered and embarrassed and hurt and storming off – had he tried to tell me then, and I wouldn’t listen because of my own foolishness?

“I should’ve followed you to your tent and told you. Made you listen to me; tell you everything–” Gale stops himself, returning his eyes to look at the book in his hands. “But the more I’d thought about it, the more space you put between us as you walked away, I thought: the less time you’d had to think about it, the less time there would be to grieve.”

“You still would’ve been gone, Gale,” I tell him, my throat going dry. “The grief would have remained, whether I knew or not.” He won’t look at me. The silence of camp is deafening; it seems the rest of our party found other places to be, giving us privacy. “Mystra had cast you out before. Your goddess abandoned you when you’d arguably needed her help the most; yet you were willing to die down there for her forgiveness. For her,” I say, not really a question, but still hoping for an answer.

Gale finally looks back up at me. “Not anymore,” he tells me, and there’s such an intensity in his eyes and in his voice that I’m taken aback. “I won’t go into detail yet – not until I have more research compounded together, but that crown we saw on the elder brain is something of incredulous power,” Gale explains. “When we get to the city, I know exactly where to go to find what we need, but there are other matters to attend to at the moment.” I lift a brow at his words. “I should’ve told you about Mystra, about what I planned to do, and I am truly sorry that I didn’t. But that’s not all I wanted to say to you, Wynn.”

Before Gale can speak further, a dark swirl of smoke gathers at our feet. The air sours and an ear-splitting hiss sounds throughout the space of our camp. I duck instinctively, Gale catching me by my elbows as I turn to face whatever threat has just approached us.

“What a sickeningly sweet picture the pair of you make,” a low, drawling voice sounds from several paces away. ��Two would-be heroes, drawn together by a cruel twist of fate, yet kept apart by one careless, beating heart. We could make a deal, you know, to take care of that; however, your little tryst is not the subject of my presence here, so do forgive me.” Raphael steps out of the swirling shadows, drawing nearer and nearer to where Gale and I stand. “I’ve come to fulfill my end of our little deal,” he says, his knowing grin slowly spreading across his face.

#feedthepheasants #baldurs gate 3 #gale dekarios #bg3 fanfiction #gale fanfic #gale of waterdeep #gale x oc #bg3 #please read my shit

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trappedinafantasy37 · 8 months ago

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A Minthara origin would be the most entertaining, fascinating, and most compelling origin

Unfortunately, it doesn't work given how her story already plays out. When it comes to discussions on who can be considered the main character of the game, Minthara is often overlooked as a candidate despite the fact that she just oozes main character energy.

What makes Minthara's story so compelling is that she starts off already enthralled by the Absolute. As her origin, you would have to experience coming to the surface from the Underdark, getting lured into a trap, tortured and forcibly converted by Orin (this is probably where her origin would actually start gameplay wise), committing a litany of atrocities in which you have no ability to do anything otherwise, failing the Absolute and getting tortured again, and then you get freed in which you swear bloody vengeance against the Absolute. Unlike the other origins, you as Minthara would end up actually having to live and experience the torments that are merely talked about in conversation with the other origins (with the exception of Shadowheart as Shar actively tortures her throughout her origin).

The entirety of Act 1 would be completely different from the origins because she wouldn't be on the Nautiloid. Remember, the Nautiloid was Gortash's mission and Minthara has no connection to Gortash, only to Ketheric and Orin. She would literally have no reason or business being on the Nautiloid. In order for her to start there with the others, her entire backstory would have to be changed which would do her story a massive disservice. No, a Minthara origin would only work if her story legitimately starts with her already a part of the Absolute.

But, then we come across the biggest narrative hurdle in her origin: how does she get the Prism? At least with the other origins, you get the Prism pretty much from the get-go via Shadowheart. (Hell, even if you ignore her she will kinda force herself into your party anyway.) Since Shadow has the Prism, how do you explain these two character naturally coming together on their own if they are not on the Nautiloid together? Does Minthara go find Shadow, or does Shadow come to her? And, how exactly does Minthara retrieve the Prism from Shadow? Given Minthara's nature in Act 1, there is a very high likelihood that the retrieval of the Prism in Act 1 may be fatal for the half-elf, meaning you as Minthara will be down one companion.

Another narrative hurdle is determining what Act Minthara should get the Prism. I personally think her story works best if she doesn't get the Prism until Act 2. Her torture scene, as brutal as it is, is a turning point in her character motivation, similar to Shadow finding out about the Nightsong or Bae'zel finding out the truth about Vlaakith. If you pay very close attention, Minthara actually does manage to break out of her enthrallment on her own without the Prism and it was because she was tortured directly by the Absolute.

Considering the fact that she has an actual religious faith in the Absolute, Minthara simply having the Prism wouldn't be enough to break her loyalty. This is why the Emperor doesn't bring her completely into the fold in Act 1, even though he does disconnect her from the Absolute temporarily. Unfortunately, this means that you as the player characters, gets tortured (which serves as fantastic motivation for you to want to destroy the Absolute).

So, if Minthara doesn't get the Prism until Act 2, you end up with the same dilemma of explaining how Shadow and Minthara come together. Not only that, but if she doesn't get the Prism until Act 2, what of the other companions? At this point, a Minthara origin legit has a very high likelihood of being a solo or near solo run, which would also make her origin the most mechanically difficult to play. But, I personally don't think that's much of a problem. Minthara is pretty damn OP in her own right. I literally have a list of bosses that she has solo'd or nearly solo'd for me. So, although mechanically difficult, I still think it'd be very doable to do a solo run in a Minthara origin. However, this would also make her story so much more rewarding, a single paladin fighting against god by herself? Sign me the fuck up!

A plus side to a Minthara origin is that she would end up having the most amount of unique content to all the origins in the entire game cause her story wouldn't really start in the goblin camp, but most likely in Moonrise (it would kinda act as a prologue to Act 1 if anything). This also means that Act 1 would actually be a bit shorter for her than the other origins as the entirety of the Underdark/Grymforge would be inaccessible in her origin. Remember, Minthara is an enemy of Lolth by this point and returning to the Underdark means you as the player character would just die immediately. Which is a real shame cause that is a lot of content to lose. So, it would have to be made up elsewhere, giving Minthara content that the other origins will never have.

Unfortunately, she would be the least played origin because for all of Act 1, you as the player character would be forced to do evil things because Minthara has no free will. Which means you would have no free will and you cannot make any choices for yourself. Most players can barely handle the Alfira scene with Durge, the only moment in the game in which you are forced to do something evil. And, to this day, players still actively whine and cry and bitch about raiding the grove for Minthara. It seriously feels like half the fandom is just mad that raiding the grove is an option that's available. I don't really think many players can handle being forced as Minthara to raid the grove. In a Minthara origin, there will be no knock-out method, no loophole, no exploit. You as the player character would be forced by the Absolute to raid the grove as you do not have the ability to do otherwise.

Having no free will as Minthara through the entirety of Act 1 is what makes her story so much more compelling as an origin. Because it would be frustrating as a player to play a game of choices and not be able to make any choices. As a player it would be frustrating to be forced to do the evil and bad things. As a player, having no free will for the entirety of Act 1 would serve as fantastic motivation to destroy the Absolute, to destroy Ketheric, and to destroy Orin. It would actually make an Oath of Vengeance paladin so much more rewarding to role play as because you would actually feel the intense desire to seek vengeance for yourself.

It is a real shame that Minthara doesn't have her own origin and it's a shame that there are just too many narrative hurdles for it to work. For all the other origins, your story starts with you just wanting to get rid of the tadpole. As you learn more about it, you stumble across the Absolute and learn about the elder brain. From there, your motivation is either to destroy the Absolute, or claim it for yourself for the sole purpose of getting rid of the tadpole.

But a Minthara origin has a completely different motivation as it's intensely personal. You were stolen from your home, your oath to Lolth was stolen from you, you were tortured by Orin and Ketheric let it happen, a worm was forced into your brain, you were forced to commit atrocities, and robbed of your free will. Would that not just piss you right the fuck off and want to make your tormentors pay?! In this case, you as Minthara don't need a personal quest. The main questline IS your personal quest. I don't know about you, but that is some mad main character energy.

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #minthara #minthara baenre #nightwarden minthara baenre #minthara as an origin #shadowheart #lae'zel #ketheric #orin #orin the red #durge #the dark urge #minthara is a main character not some sidekick

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artpenumbra · 7 months ago

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TWST Dorms my FFXIV OCs would be in:

Don't mind me, spur of the moment thoughts that sat in my brain. While I have a lot of OCs, FFXIV is my other game I play so these guys have more going for them info wise. These headcanons are with de-aging(and gender swapping) my FFXIV OCs to high school level.

Svanielle/Svan: Pomefiore comes to mind because she'd rock the uniform BUT with her interest in Botany and fashion and (by my friends) seen as a very pretty character she'd fit right in. Vil will probably get on her for maintaining long hair though. Another possibility is Diasomnia because of her connection with the fae and being an elf. For non-FFXIV people, the elezen race is basically elves. Out of the four OCs I have she has the most magic power so this dorm wouldn't be a bad match. Though if her dragon-phobia carried over she'd avoid Malleus out of fear. But I feel like she and Lilia would be best pals for being mischievous older people types. As a male, he would be "Svanael Corvus" and like the FFXIV version, he has a smol fairy friend and a lot of crow friends he talks to.

Sho: My first thought is Ignihyde for the sole fact that this dorm focuses on magic research and implementing it into technology. Above all else they are also very introverted. FFXIV!Sho is basically this, due to unfortunate events his magic skills have diminished significantly but he's taken up finding ways to infuse his mana with various machinery and weapons to get by. It's just that in the TWST verse he would NOT be trying to craft weapons and gunblades, or maybe he does and his classmates need to tell him to STOP. Scarabia, Octavnielle, and Heartslabyul are possible dorms he could match in due to respectively representing both of his other traits of being efficient, resourceful, and a stickler for rules, but I think they may be too social for his personality. Sho is male already, but his TWST name would be just "Sho Mystgrave." He's someone who is quiet but you should fear him. Naturally best friends with Svan.

Lunasera: Scarabia, hands down. Simply because Kalim in there and they'd be the best of friends can't change my mind. But Lun is very witty and artistically inclined. Her FFXIV verse is a traveling musician and artist so I feel she would know her way around social situations as a performer, but she's also sharp-minded and has high survivability skills as someone from a nomadic upbringing. With those factors in mind this is the best dorm for her. As a joke though? Octavinelle would be a hilarious match as she'd be a good entertainer for the Mostro Lounge business with her neverending charisma, but I can see her driving Azul up the wall because she's free minded. Basically a very watered down, not so dangerous Floyd. Her male name would be "Gerel Nightsong," Gerel is Mongolian for Light, which ties into the FFXIV Xaela Au Ra nomenclature, and Nightsong is an existing surname she has in FFXIV, but fun fact: "Lunasera Nightsong" is her stage name. Weird I figured out her male name first.

Nami: So Nami is a weird one. While I know her personality she's still in a stage where I don't know what exactly I would like to do for her. She exists in two different verses but I haven't been able to use her properly. Though from the top of my head, she's the most physically adept out of the four with Luna being second. So that in mind I think it would be funny for her to be in Savanaclaw, because while she's petite she can and will suplex someone three times her size and not break a sweat. She's also canonically mute so she will express herself with her actions above all else. Octavinelle is a possible choice, I can see her working as security, because every shrewd business man needs an extra bodyguard and being mute would be a bonus. In FFXIV, she's a viera which are bunny people so she's already a beastman in that regard. As a male, her name is probably either Kai, Mirai, or Kaien. Nami means "ocean wave" so I want to keep her ocean themed name going, and due to my sentimentality in the FFXIV verse, she will be related to Sho so she'll share his TWST!surname.

#what do I even tag this as?#Info no one asked for #my ocs;#I guess

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paganwitchisis · 8 months ago

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The Unexpected Adventure Chapter 2

Chapter 2: A Learning Experience

Word Count: 5,980

Rated: Explicit

RATED 18 PLUS!!!

Chapter 1 - here

Chapter 2 - you're here

Chapter 3 - here

AO3 link - here

Warnings: Smut, Smut and fluff, body swap, brief snippet of violence (fight), unknown pregnacy, protective and soft Astarion, blood (drinking)

WARNING SMUT IN THIS CHAPTER

Once inside, Astarion locked the door, and as different as it was, he leaned forward and kissed Tav who held her stomach and chest like she was injured. “I’m sorry. I know it’s jarring to wake up a corpse with eternal hunger. You're used to warmth and a heart that beats.”

“It’s certainly quite the adjustment. It’s a good thing I know your body so well, honey.” Tav attempted to find humor in the situation. “At least I’m in one handsome body.” Tav smiled awkwardly due to the fangs she was unused to.

“That you are. I didn’t realize how lucky you were until today. Gods, am I hot!” Astarion commented with a chuckle and light humor “But seriously, can I do anything to help, my dear?”

Tav readied herself to speak when the door was softly knocked upon. Scowling in Tav’s body (Which Tav thought gave her a hilarious face), Astarion got up and answered their door.

Surprisingly, it was Gale on the other side of the door.

“Ta…er…I mean Astarion, we may have a lead and we thought it would be best if you both were there.” Gale rationalized while looking away, unwilling to believe the circumstances the party was thrown into. It was no secret the wizard still desired Tav even with the obvious nature of Astarion and Tav’s relationship.

“How did you get a lead so soon? It isn’t like swapping bodies is a normal occurrence.” Astarion asked, annoyed. He’d much rather be attending to Tav than speaking to the wizard.

“Exactly. It isn’t normal, so when we spoke to the innkeeper downstairs, he pointed us towards another wizard in town. Apparently, they are here temporarily. Something about them attending because of another wizard named Lorroakan. You remember, the brat in the tower we killed who was after the Nightsong?”

“Obviously,” Astarion snapped. “So how can a wizard help us?”

“Astarion… It is only a lead. We won’t know much until we go to see them. They’re at the Rainforest Home when they aren’t at Sorcerous Sundries.” Gale informed Astarion who was frustrated until he felt an arm reach around his waist. Thankfully, Tav made noise as she walked, since she had yet to pick up on his stealth abilities, otherwise it would have startled the ex-vampire.

“This is so weird.” Tav commented on her embrace of her own body “Gale, we’d love to come with, but we are still… Acclimating. Give us a few hours, and we’ll join. It is still fairly early in the day, anyways.” Tav said in Astarion’s body. With that, Astarion closed the door on Gale’s face, not bothering to hear a reply.

“You know, we’ve got to work on your people skills.” Tav joked and made her way back to the bed. “I guess we need to get out of our armor, huh? Probably could do with a bath too, to be honest… I mean… Not saying you need it, honey, but… I mean, if you want to get one since it is your body, and…”

“Tav,” Astarion said as he then kissed himself to stop Tav from rambling. He thought it would be more difficult than this to show physical emotion when switching bodies, but it really wasn’t. Both of them were attractive people, in his opinion, and kissing her still felt right. “While we are…like this, my body is now yours, and I trust you with it. We’re both intimately familiar with each other, so it should be fairly easy for us to get used to certain… Aspects of this. Now, with the vampirism, I will need to help you. I’m sure drinking blood may be a little off-putting if we are like this for long, for example. Unfortunately, the pain will stay, and you will be hungry often, if not always. No matter how much blood you drink,… It… Can be a lot.”

“Is this what you normally feel?” Tav asked as she struggled to get his light armor off until Astarion came over and helped her, Tav repaying the kindness by helping him with her own armor on his new body.

“Do I usually feel hungry? My stomach clenching in pain because there is nothing I can eat or drink that can quell it for long? Yeah.” Astarion began to nervously chuckle “It was worse, actually, before the tadpole. The wriggling friend of ours seems to have diluted that, along with my strength, though. Regarding whether or not I feel cold, I grew numb to that about two or three decades in. It takes getting used to.”

Astarion could tell that Tav wasn’t too happy with his reply, but he merely told her the truth. It was nice for once, to not be in pain and to not feel death’s chilled hand upon your throat. Of course, that second part he wouldn’t tell her. He didn’t want her to act out of guilt, and he knew the cogs were working in her… Well, his head, as they spoke.

“Do I always smell so good? And everything is so loud! Is that my heartbeat?” Tav asked as she struggled with the vampiric condition.

Astarion chuckled. “Yeah, you do smell good, but what you’re smelling is blood. It’s going to take some time to get used to, but the enhanced hearing is something you acclimate to. You hear your heartbeat now, but imagine in the companion room. All those hearts, the blood flow, and I mean everything will be able to be picked up. You’ll know when someone is lying or when they are aroused.” Astarion smirked at the shocked expression Tav responded with.

“How do you do it?”

“Darling, I had two hundred years to get that under control. Don’t expect to be in control of the vampirism in a matter of hours.” Astarion hated that he had to have this conversation with Tav. He hated his condition was causing her pain or grief. He hated that she now knew the full extent of his plight and he worried that could change the dynamic of their relationship.

No.

Not Tav. Never Tav. She would always love and trust him no matter how insane the reason. That was one of the many reasons Astarion fell so completely for her.

“Astarion? You there?” Tav gently prodded with a hand on her body’s cheek. Touch usually guided him back if done the right way, Tav had learned early on. A hug or a gentle touch to a safer area usually helped him focus on the present.

“Huh?… Yeah, I’m here. Sorry, dear, daydreaming for a moment.” Astarion wasn’t ready to show more of his vulnerability at the moment. Instead, he took her lips, or rather kissed his own, and tenderly pressed against her. Astarion had to pull away, considering they only had a few hours to get used to themselves before being thrown into another mission.

“Daydreaming? What about? This must be different for you, too.” Tav asked out of curiosity.

Astarion didn’t have to think long before he came up with a half-truth. He was always curious, and now he could finally act on it.

“Food. Gods, what I wouldn’t give for some strawberries.”

Tav smiled and took Astarion’s hand after grabbing Astarion’s daggers and attaching them back on the body she was borrowing. “let’s go fix that, shall we? Maybe a glass of wine will calm this stomach for a bit, too.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea. You’re like a newborn vampire. Any amount of blood, regardless of the source, and you will…”

“How is it different than when we go out to get our situation sorted out? I can’t stay here the entire time, Star.” Tav rebutted as she cut him off. Astarion thought for a moment and shook his head.

“Fine, but only because I’m with you. I know the signs, and with our tadpoles, you can communicate with me if things become too hard without making it obvious.” Astarion sternly stated. He was looking forward to eating, but he would never put her in danger over something like this.

The couple made their way downstairs, and thankfully found the establishment mostly empty. It was still early, so it was possible the lunch crowd had simply not descended on them yet. It was fortuitous since the scant noise in the tavern was already giving Tav a headache. All of the noise was worse than in the room, but Tav wouldn’t let it beat her. The couple sat down at the bar, and Astarion found himself overwhelmed with the options before him. When he couldn’t eat, it was much simpler. Now? He wanted to try everything, but he also wanted to respect Tav and her body. He was sure a stomach ache was not what he had in mind if he overindulged.

Seeing his plight, Tav placed her hand on Astarion’s thigh under the table at the bar and asked; “Do you want some suggestions?”

“Please.” Astarion requested while being oddly shy about the his current state of affairs.

“Innkeeper, can we please have these?” Tav pointed to the roast chicken and stew combo. Tav had a suspicion Astarion would love to have protein but she wasn’t done yet. “Oh! And this!” Tav pulled a napkin out and wrote on it instructions before sliding it to the innkeep. Astarion tried to peek, but his eyesight wasn’t what it used to be. It was more dull than before, but then again his partner wasn’t an elf and the vampirism used to enhance his senses.

“You realize these are out of season?” The man replied to her paper instructions.

“Yeah, but I’ll pay well. Either I pay you a chunk of coin for them or I find someone who will.” Tav replied. The man seemed offended, but wasn’t going to pass up the chance to make more gold. He scoffed and left to get the original order, and when he placed it down, Tav handed him five hundred gold out of her money. She wasn’t about to dig in Astarion’s pockets and have him pay for her surprise. The man seemed pleased to hold the medium filled bag of gold and left them alone as he set on his task.

Meanwhile, Astarion could smell the food, and based off the pain in his stomach, he could guess Tav never ate breakfast. Of course, that isn’t because Astarion didn’t remind her, he was always trying to find ways to take care of his lover, and anything he could do, he would. He didn’t care if it was massaging her shoulders after a hard fight, or doing anything else to bring her comfort. ‘Her job was difficult enough’, he surmised, as she had to bring everyone together and make the hard decisions. At least in privacy, he could be the one to take care of her. Astarion took a tentative bite as Tav watched of his chicken. Astarion felt like there was an explosion of flavor in his mouth, which was of stark contrast to the ash he would taste while still a vampire. Tav, meanwhile, ordered wine from the bartender as the innkeeper was still not back. It made Astarion wonder what she wrote down, however his thoughts and his focus was zeroed in on the food he was consuming. Every bite was something new. Astarion knew he was going to miss this when he returned to his body, but damn, did the reprieve feel great. To be warm, to have a heartbeat, and to live for the first time in centuries was a blessing. It just was unfortunate his lover had to experience the opposite of his situation.

“I..well, technically you, have a full bladder.” Tav whispered as she put the glass of wine down. “Anything I should know before I go take care of this?” Tav was normally very proud and headstrong and yet in this, she was coy. This made Astarion smirk.

“You know my body almost as well as I do, my love.” Astarion chuckled “Just aim and shoot. Well… That, and don’t shake it too much after you’re done. You don’t want an erection… At least not when I can’t help you with it.” Astarion was smiling now at the thought of what they could do with these delicious new bodies, but of course, that thought would have to wait. Maybe if they got the chance later, they could indulge. After all, they were both beautiful people. Right now, however, Tav was fidgeting in her seat, and Astarion couldn’t pull himself away from the food if he tried.

Tav kissed Astarion on the forehead and politely excused herself to use the bathroom, while Astarion ate his fill. After about five minutes or so, Tav returned with a contemplative look on her face. Astarion could feel his smirk grow as he waited for her to sit down.

“So… How did it go?” Astarion teased

“I’m jealous. It is so easy for men to pee compared to being a woman.” Tav huffed out while Astarion couldn’t help his full belly laugh.

“Well, I guess I’ll find out if the day drags too far on, then.” Astarion shook his head hoping he wouldn’t have to deal with more complex natural bodily urges. If Tav got her cycle, or worse, had to use… The facilities, in another regard, he would be lost on what to do since he doesn’t remember being in a body that consumed food, nor was he proficient in what she needed to do during her monthly visitor.

While Astarion ate and Tav drank her wine slowly, Astarion was aware of a small petite woman coming their direction from the open door of the Elfsong. Of course Astarion never met this woman but was taken aback by this determined face she wore. Tav, as per usual, was oblivious. Astarion kept an eye on her as he ate and saw she was staring at his body.

‘Great. Another one of those.’ Astarion thought to himself as he thought of the men and women who he could seduce without moving a muscle. He just didn’t realize until that day how handsome he was to see why he was so sought after in taverns and pubs they visited. Astarion would tell them off, but never really needed to once he and Tav got serious. He would just show some public display of affection and they would look away. Astarion thought that would be enough to protect Tav from this woman, but he soon found he was wrong.

Tav was a little surprised to feel Astarion place a hand on her thigh, and in between eating, he leaned over and kissed her deeply. Of course, Tav wasn’t aware of the woman who watched them, but noticed something was up with her lover.

“You okay?” Tav asked and placed a hand on his cheek as she was a little worried. Instead of a reply from her loverm the sound of someone’s throat being cleared became apparent.

Tav looked away one moment and looked at the person in question. The person was close… Too close. The woman was within Tav’s personal space and caging Tav against the bar even which made Tav frown. Who did they think they were? Tav saw that this woman looked very attractive. She had long blonde hair, piercing blue eyes and a thin figure. She held curves where she needed them, and larger breasts than Tav normally had. She was slightly tan, a high elf in full makeup and obviously she was aiming to get something out of Tav, but Tav couldn’t figure out what. This was until the woman spoke and Tav remembered that everyone saw her as Astarion.

“Hey handsome, what brings you here?”

Tav was surprised for a moment until Astarion cut in.

“If you don’t mind, this is a private conversation.” Astarion hissed out while not looking too ferocious as he was in Tav’s body. The woman ignored Astarion and turned her back to Astarion, still caging Tav in against the bar.

“It’s a bit noisy here. Why don’t we grab a booth somewhere a little more… Secluded? Leave this tart, and we can see what I have to offer…”

Tav put her hands up in an effort to have something between her and this random woman, but her anger festered under the facade.

“This ‘tart’ as you put it, is more important to me than you’ll ever know. You can’t offer anything that I don’t already have with her,” Tav caught herself to make sure she was using the right pronoun. “Now go fuck off, you hussy.” Tav snapped at the woman. Tav was not in the mood to deal with this situation. She was hungry, she was cold, and she didn’t want to have to kill a woman for coming onto her significant other. Tav felt honored that Astarion trusted her to protect and take care of his body, and she would be damned if she would betray that trust.

Astarion smirked at Tav’s shutdown of the situation and her words. It made him feel warm and seen to be with Tav, and he wasn’t referring to her body heat. When Tav declared her love publicly, it never failed to make him feel safe and cared for with her. Of course, these feelings were all new to him and he only just started accepting them, but he knew he always felt complete with Tav… No matter what body she was currently inhabiting.

“Ass! You don’t have to be a jerk!” The woman snapped but Tav just laughed. Unfortunately, that may have been the wrong thing to do, as it flashed Astarion’s fangs briefly, something the woman noticed.

“I… I’m going to go over there….I….I’m sorry bout the mix up” the woman stuttered and backed up slowly. Astarion noticed immediately why there was the sudden change in demeanor.

“Shit.” Astarion got up to handle the situation when a large red tiefling woman grabbed the scuff of her clothing and hoisted the belligerent woman in the air.

“Oi! I’ve been watching you. You give my friends any grief, and I’ll make sure the Fists can’t find any of your parts left.” The woman was shaking her head ‘no’, and squeaking out how she would tell no one and she was just mistaken.

With that, Karlach tossed the woman aside who ran promptly away. Astarion sighed in relief as Karlach joined them.

“I hope the bimbo wasn’t a problem. Kind of hard to miss, actually. Figured you’d both welcome some help,” Karlach mentioned before adding on “Had to do that bit a lot as a bodyguard in the Hells and even the bastard who sold me. I’d much rather help you both out, though. You both okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Astarion? Are you alright?” Tav answered while eyeing the entrance suspiciously.

“Yeah… It’s just jarring.”

“Thank you, Karlach, for the help.” Tav said in Astarion’s body and voice. It was very off putting to hear Astarion say thank you even if it was technically Tav saying it. Karlach just laughed and replied.

“Anything for you, Soldier...or should I say Fangs?” Karlach continued to laugh as she walked away.

Tav was going to speak to Astarion when the man she spoke to earlier returned.

“Hello, sir. I have what you asked for.” The man sighed and held out in his hand a square box. Tav took the box and thanked the man before grabbing Astarion’s hand and retreating back to their room. Astarion was confused but followed his lover all the same. Astarion smiled as he held her hand...or rather his own, but it was nice to share such a moment with the person he cared for.

Tav locked the door behind them and excitedly smiled at Astarion.

“I have a gift for you!”

“I saw. Five hundred gold, too. What did you buy?” Astarion asked curiously.

Tav grinned more, the smile reaching her eyes as she handed the box over to Astarion. Astarion tentatively took the box and opened it to be hit with a sweet aroma. It was a fruity and sweet smell that Astarion felt like he smelt before. Long ago before he became a vampire. Astarion looked down and saw triangular shaped red fruit with a leaf at the base end.

They were strawberries.

Astarion could feel himself salivate at the thought and the smell of the confection. Astarion wasted no time bringing the red part of the fruit to his lips and taking a bite. It was beyond anything he had ever tasted before. If he thought the stew and chicken were good, then strawberries were divine. Astarion moaned and sat on the bed with his eyes closed. Astarion slowly chewed the food, enticing every drop of liquid to be expelled from the fruit before he swallowed.

“This is better than sex…” Astarion eventually blurted out after eating half the box of fruit.

“Better than sex? I guess I have to remind you how good that feels… If you want to, of course.” Tav attempted to be seductive, but one laugh from Astarion and she knew it wasn’t that great of acting in the new body. Tav began to laugh, too, but Astarion put the box down to the side and kissed her.

“Darling, I am very eager to see what that would be like, but first, you need to eat.” Astarion smirked and crawled on the bed a little to nestle between her legs. Astarion tossed Tav’s hair to the side and bared his neck. Tav couldn’t help her hunger as her mouth seemed to froth and foam at the mouth with saliva. She was already passively in pain due to her hunger, but if it could be abated, she would find that very welcoming.

“I can’t… I don’t know how much to take! I may kill you!”

“It’s sweet of you to be concerned, but I can get your attention. Worst case? I have my dagger on me and can do something superficial. I would like to think you won’t force me to use that option, my dear.”

“How… ow do I…?” Tav was confused but Astarion guided his body and head to the correct place on her neck and lowered her head.

“Open up and just swallow. When I get your attention, you just have to lick the wound to close it. Now, push down, my love, and enjoy.” Astarion mentioned as he braced himself for the pain of being bitten, but the pain was substantially less that what he remembered Cazador’s fangs were like. Tav punctured his flesh with a slight pop, her moan hitting his ears a moment later. Tav was given a moment or two before Astarion tapped on her shoulder and she pulled away, remembering to lick the wound first.

“Gods, you taste so fucking good. That was so sweet, rich, creamy and smooth, like a well aged wine or chocolate.”

“You did good, pulling away when I said to. Most newborns don’t have the strength to do that.” Astarion praised Tav, who seemed proud of that fact. “And about the blood? Do you see why I love drinking from you?” Astarion chuckled.

“I also have a problem. This is… Well… Awkward.” Tav would have blushed if she could as she gazed down and looked at the first hard-on she had in his body. “I feel like I need you. I really need you.”

Astarion smirked. “I suspected this would happen. Normally I’d take care of it on my own… Well, until we killed him. Since my rebirth, we’ve been at it like rabbits, so I never needed to hide my erection from you, not that you would have had an issue before our trip to the graveyard. I just wasn’t ready then, but now?” Astarion referred to Cazador like a vile poison he wanted to spit out of his mouth. “Let me help you get undressed.”

Astarion began unlacing Tav’s trousers, but he didn’t have the dexterity that he was used to and grew more and more frustrated at his inability to unlace her pants. Tav had to help him in the end as he was about to take a dagger to the laces.

“You need to relieve this.” Astarion huskily murmured as he was able to shimmy Tav out of the trousers and her underwear. Her cock jutted proudly at attention, a bead of Tav’s natural lubrication sat on the tip.

“Isn’t this masturbation?” Tav asked sarcastically.

Astarion laughed and replied. “Maybe, darling, but we both need to have clear heads to solve this issue,” Astarion replies “Plus, I’ve been dying to find out what these bodies feel like to have pleasure in. To know what these feel like.” Astarion fondled his own chest earning a low moan. “They’re so sensitive.”

“Let me help, then.” Tav began to undo Astarion’s pants while Astarion pulled at her shirt. Once the laces were free, Tav sat up and tossed her shirt to the side, pulling Astarion’s trousers down to his ankles. Meanwhile, Astarion had stripped his shirt, but was struggling with the bra until Tav came to his rescue yet again.

“I don’t get it. I am dexterous! This shouldn’t happen!”

“Maybe your body is dexterous, but mine is not. My body is built for a fighter build, honey.” Tav mentioned before taking his lips. Astarion kicked his pants and underwear off as they partook in each other. Astarion moaned when he tasted the blood on her lips, the taste was different than he remembered, but that didn’t matter to him. Tav took things a step further and deepened the kiss. They may have their bodies switched, but to Astarion and Tav? They didn’t feel like they changed bodies while they kissed each other. Everything felt normal, natural, and oh so delicious. Tav pulled back, and lightly nudged Astarion, asking him to lay down. Astarion couldn’t help how wet he was getting. Just the thought of what they would be doing made him want to clench his legs in an attempt to find relief for the deep ache inside of him. It was a surreal feeling, but one that Astarion understood well. It was desire. Astarion laid down and watched as Tav, using his body, crawled over him and took his lips again. Astarion could feel the erection against his thigh, as he instinctively thrust his hips towards Tav in an effort to find some kind of relief to the need he had, any kind of relief. Tav chuckled and began to kiss his jaw, his neck and his collarbone. She quickly made her way to his breasts and she took her tongue, giving his nipple a flick with the tip of the appendage. Tav clamped her lips over the nipple and swirled her tongue around the areola and nipple, earning a loud moan from Astarion. Astarion pushed his chest against her to get as close as possible to the pleasure she was giving him.

Tav spent a few more minutes lavishing attention on his rose bud before switching to the other. Astarion was very vocal as Tav massaged the breasts, licked and sucked on them and drove him mad with want.

“Please! Stop teasing me.” Astarion begged. Tav pulled back and smirked, then without kissing her way south, Tav skipped kissing Astarion’s stomach (or rather it was her stomach) and sank to the junction of Astarion’s thighs. Tav spread Astarion’s leg’s further and pulled the labia apart. Astarion swallowed hard, scared and excited in equal measure. Tav took a long lick up the center, from cleft to clit.

Astarion’s stomach clenched, pulling Astarion’s upper half off the bed slightly and momentarily.

“FUCK!” Astarion cursed, lowering his hand to the back of Tav’s head to encourage her to continue. Tav licked her lips and noted how although she tasted different, she was still sweet, and so Tav dove back in. Tav knew her body well so when she began her onslaught, she had to hold his body down on the bed. Tav began to twist her tongue and lap at the hidden pearl at the top of the vagina, sucking and varying the kind of licks and pressure on the clitoris. Astarion was loud, which was unheard of for the vampire. He usually was so well composed and so good at doing so. When Tav thought Astarion was building towards his crest, Tav slipped two fingers inside of Astarion whose legs trembled.

“I’m so close. Gods, this is unreal! This is so. Fucking. Good!” Astarion enunciated the last few words separately as he focused on his breathing. Tav curled her fingers looking for the small patch of flesh that was rougher to the touch and brushed against it several times.

This unraveled Astarion who screamed out Tav’s name in orgasm.

Tav could feel the contracting muscles, the throb and pulling inside where her finger sat. Tav helped Astarion ride out the climax, and when she went to pull away, Astarion grabbed her wrist. He grabbed the wrist of the hand that was inside of him just a moment ago and licked up the contents on her fingers.

“You still taste divine, my sweet. That felt so good. Now it’s your turn, lay on your back.”

Tav was going to argue back, but Astarion had already sat up and was crawling to his prize.

“You’re in for a treat, darling, I know how to suck cock well, and especially my own? This will be different, but I am sure I can make you come faster than you made me.”

“It’s a competition now, is it?” Tav joked.

“Never. I want you to thoroughly enjoy my lips and tongue on your new cock.” Astarion huskily said as his mouth now hovered over her engorged mast. Tav could feel his hot breath hit her new penis and she desperately wanted to thrust. Astarion wasted no time and took her cock into his mouth, his hand holding her hips down just like she did with him, so she couldn’t thrust yet. Astarion ran his tongue up the bottom vein and twirled his tongue over the head of the length. It was Tav’s turn to be vocal as the sensation overwhelmed her. Astarion was right, because he was proficient, she was in nirvana and didn’t doubt she would come sooner than him. Tav tried to thrust and chase the release when Astarion pulled back to mutter.

My love, I want you to enjoy, not just come. Plus, you’re in for a treat.” Astarion took one long lick of her manhood. “The woman I love comes at least twice. We’re going to do a little testing and see how many I can squeeze out of you.”

“By the gods, you feel great. Please, let me come! I’d love to keep feeling this, but I really need release!”

“We just had sex maybe a day or two ago, don’t tell me you need so soon?”

“It’s you. I’ll always need you.”

“Grab my hair and thrust. I can take it.” Astarion said with a grin as he took his lover’s cock into his mouth once again. Astarion hollowed out his cheeks and sucks and moaned as he gave oral to his lover. Tav couldn’t wait anymore and lightly held his hair before she began thrusting into his oral cavity. His mouth was so slick, so hot and divine, that Tav wanted to stay doing this but the coil in her lower belly told her how close she was.

“I’m gonna…”

Tav couldn’t finish her sentence as Astarion used both his hands to pull Tav’s ass closer to his mouth, taking her all in and gave everything he had. She saw stars. She thought it was a myth, but this experience proved otherwise. Tav yelled out Astarion’s name, clenched her stomach as she partly sat up while she unloaded her load down her lover’s throat. Astarion just moaned as he drank his own sperm in. He noted how sour he tasted and wondered why Tav would like drinking his spend so much, however soon enough, Tav pulled away and left Astarion curious.

“You drink me when I taste like that? I mean, it makes sense why you’re so delectable, but why swallow me, my sweet?”

Tav looked him in the eyes and smiled. “I drink you down regardless of taste, because I love you. I want you to feel good, and honestly? You don’t taste that bad.”

Astarion looked at her quizzically, but noted she still sported a hard on. Astarion began to languidly stroke her mast while Tav would moan until Tav stopped him.

“Do you want to continue?”

“My dear, I am giddy from excitement. I want this. We need this, and gods, when will we get another chance to make love while in each other’s bodies?”

Tav crawled above Astarion at this point, as Astarion spread his legs around Tav’s hips and helped Tav line up her new cock.

“Now I should be prepared but you’ll want to slide in slowly. Especially because I haven’t been fucked as a woman before.” Astarion chuckled. Tav began to push in and almost doubled over her lover, the tight hot heat put Astarion’s mouth to shame. As she continued to push in, Astarion kissed Tav so as to muffle her moans. She was struggling not to spill her load so soon, and wondered how Astarion did it. Tav thought her new cock wouldn’t be as sensitive as her clit, but by the gods, was she wrong. Eventually, she was fully sheathed and waited for Astarion’s signal to proceed.

“Darling, this feels incredible. No wonder you ask for my cock so much! You can move. It’s like a deep ache inside me that goes away and feels so good, like burning electricity when you strike those walls.”

Tav began to move but was soon stopped.

“No, no, dear. You don’t simply pull out and shove in. Roll the hips.” Tav followed the instructions. “There you go. Doesn’t that feel better? It saves your back, feels better for both of us, and this way, you won’t fall out when you pull back.” Tav grew embarrassed at the last part as when they began coupling, she did, in fact, fall out for a moment. She didn’t know how far to pull back, as she wasn’t used to the appendage, but Hells, was he right. Everything felt better, tighter and more sensual as she rolled her hips into him. Tav kissed Astarion some more but deepened the kiss. She ran her tongue everywhere she could find. Astarion moaned and began to thrust back, his legs now tight against her hips and circled around her backside. The only sounds in the room were blissful moans, reliving sighs and cries of each other as skin slapped in rhythm of each other.

Tav began to speed the pace up, feeling the desire within her warn her that she wouldn’t last much longer, but she didn’t want to be the only one to come. Tav pulled Astarion's leg off her side and held it up as she rolled her hips. She angled herself deep and to the side slightly, which soon enough, pushed Astarion over the edge with a cry of her name. The contracting muscles and the throb from inside was too much and Tav soon followed afterwards. She emptied herself of her spend inside of Astarion, (or rather her own body). She didn’t care, he was undead, so the chance of pregnancy was astronomically low. Tav slumped forward as she caught her breath (although, as an undead, she didn’t have to) and was held gently by Astarion.

“Want to go again?”

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