#gortash is a manipulative bastard

[aladaylessecondblog]

why does the sea rush to shore (enver gortash x good tav)

TW: Sad, Astarion and Halsin have died bloody Orin-related deaths and Tav has made a decision to avoid that heartbreak ever again. Tav briefly considers jumping off a bridge.

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It felt fitting for the netherstone to be set in a choker around her neck.

Two attendants fussed about the dress, chattering away about the lace and the pearls, but Tav's mind was a thousand miles away.

She had imagined this day several times before. The dress, the veil, perhaps a few jewels. Her pale elf's look of awe, even, as she walked down the aisle toward him. Halsin, somewhere nearby, looking with his own contentment. A faceless priest, waiting to begin the vows. Above all she had pictured herself happy and smiling.

But today, her wedding day, she was the opposite. Oh, she kept her expression twisted into something similar, thanked the attendants as they helped her with the finishing touches, and fussed about small details like her gloves, but all she could think was that she would rather be anywhere else.

She imagined her waiting groom, pleased that he had managed to snare a hero of the people. That he would be able to maintain power and retain his status as Archduke.

Tav looked into the mirror and forced back her tears.

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Astarion was staked directly into the ground.

"No...no...please be alive, please be--"

Cold and dead. For real, this time, with his blood spread in a wide puddle beneath him. Not five feet away was Halsin--or rather, his wildshaped bearskin hide, skinned from his bloody carcass which itself lay nearby in a puddle of its own.

Lae'zel stood before them both, and then turned in Tav's direction. A second later she shifted--

"Oh, oh oh, you're just in time to see!" Orin laughed, "Your gith, your spawn, and your bear! Well. Your rug now..."

Tav heard no more. Her heart was pounding in her ears as she looked between Astarion and Halsin, remembering the former's request to join her on her last excursion to Baldur's Gate.

How she had said no, that she would see him when she returned...and that in the evening she'd let him feed from her.

(He'd liked that idea.)

The next second she was roaring--wildshaping into an owlbear and tearing forward to slash and rip at Orin.

The woman would not die, and so much the better.

"Stop!" Shadowheart had called, just before Tav reached back to give what would have been a killing blow. "Don't kill her. And not because I think she deserves to live."

Silence.

"I can think of a much better punishment for her than mere death."

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There was the sudden sound of a door opening, and in walked Karlach. Wyll, in his Grand Duke regalia, followed closely behind.

Tav looked up at Karlach, who was dressed in a gown of green satin, with a ruby necklace that held the third netherstone at its center.

"You know, soldier, it's not too late to back out," she said in a sad tone, once the attendants had been shooed out. "You deserve better than Gortash. You could have someone good, you know. Someone you could actually love."

"I'm--" Tav took a shaky breathed, and gulped, "I'm not interested in love, Karlach, but...thank you."

The thought of her smarmy vampire and cuddly bear returned. The way she had slept between them on a few nights, warm and utterly content; with arms wrapped around Astarion and Halsin's own around her.

Then the image changed, and she saw their bodies. Astarion, bloodless, limp...eyes staring at nothing. Halsin, skinned, his bloody pelt on the ground.

That image was still agony, a constant pain in her mind she almost wanted kept fresh. Because for it to feel anything less than torturous was--it didn't feel right. It felt like she was betraying them, to think of their deaths and NOT feel that pain along with it.

Wyll offered his arm--as he would be giving her away--and Tav took it as Karlach helped her to get the lengthy bridal train out the door.

"I never want to be in love again."

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"My condolences."

Tav was still reeling, and she knew better than to show that pain before Gortash of all people, but she couldn't help herself. She had barely slept in the past few days, too afraid of her mind surprising her in the morning.

She didn't want to wake up, sleepily reach for either Astarion or Halsin, and then be stabbed in the heart again.

"Don't give me that," Tav said bitterly, "You probably ordered it yourself. Don't try to piss on my leg and tell me it's raining."

"So vulgar," Gortash mused, "I didn't tell Orin to hit your camp. She does what she wants, that one. A mad dog off the leash..."

"Even more so now."

"You didn't kill her?" Gortash looked surprised, but that look soon faded. "Of course you didn't. You're too tender-hearted to--"

"We're not killing her, but she's going to wish we did," Tav's voice turned icy.

"She's into blood, you know."

"We don't need to shed any." She shut her eyes for a few moments, indulging in the pain-rimmed emptiness that her heart had sunk into. It was a searing void she wanted to share. "Darkness. Silence. An empty box. By the time we're done with her, she won't even remember who she is."

"You ARE full of surprises," he half-laughed and gave her a look she couldn't quite identify. "I didn't call you here to talk about Orin though...at least not in more than a passing way. I called you here to bargain."

"I've already agreed to ally to you. Seems like you're wasting my time and your own."

"Yes, but you have two netherstones. I have one. Things are a bit uneven...and I'd like to keep my head."

"And your power."

"You know me so well." Gortash smirked. "Now, I know you're more than capable of rolling in and mopping up me, the Steel Watch, the Flaming Fists, and any other guards who get in your way...but that would create more problems than it would solve, especially for the innocent. And you're more useful to this city as a hero than as a villain, don't you think?"

"Get to the point."

"The city sees me as its protector. Your reputation is similar, but in a more heroic vein. I propose we remain allies. That you and another person of your choosing join me in continuing to manipulate the elder brain to all our benefits. If control is not regained, and SOON, there will be a lot more problems for you to deal with than just me. Like losing your soul for example."

"If you think I'm unprotected--"

"The ace up your sleeve will only last so long. Whatever plane of existence you flee to, the tadpole WILL heed the call. Sooner, rather than later."

"You're just manipulating me."

"I'm sure this will come as a revelation, my dear Tav," Gortash spoke with the slightest of edges in his voice, "Everyone is manipulating you. Raphael was a devil and you're brighter than you look; you're lucky he was so obvious about it. That mindflayer you think is your friend--don't think I don't know about him. Even Astarion--"

"Don't you DARE say his name to me like--," Tav growled and clenched her fists.

"My point, Tav, is that everyone has plans they want you for, and none but myself will be honest with you about it. Take this lesson from it, if you take nothing else: there will always be someone ready to manipulate you, so you should look to see what you can get from them in turn. I cannot bring your lover back. But I can help you, and your friends."

"We can help ourselves. If you're done--" Tav was on the point of leaving, and got up from the table.

"Can you help Karlach's infernal engine from burning her to ashes?" Gortash's voice rang out as her hand was on the doorknob. When she stopped he spoke in a smug tone. "I thought that might interest you."

"You asshole, you're the one that did that to her in the first place!"

"Language, Tav. You're talking to an Archduke, after all. If you want to talk, you must learn to be more polite. Are you ready to listen?"

Trembling with rage, Tav sat back down.

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"This was really not necessary," Wyll said to Tav quietly as they walked up the streets. "Did he really have to make you walk so far?"

Flower petals were being scattered from what seemed like every window and by flower girls that walked before them, and every face Tav looked into was smiling. It was a short enough walk, meant to display the Archduke's heroic drow bride to his people.

From the Open Hand Temple to Wyrm's Rock Fortress she was walking, through a crowd of people who felt all the joy for her that she could not feel for herself.

Somewhere in the distance, bells were ringing...

You should smile, darling, you make such a beautiful bride.

Astarion's voice sounded off, as if he were right next to her. She gulped.

"He thought it might be good for the people to have something to celebrate, after all of the...problems...with the Absolute. A public wedding, a grand feast, good times after so much war and strife..."

"War and strife he and his ilk were responsible for," Wyll grumbled.

Tav didn't answer that question, but instead changed the subject. "Yet here they are, still praising his name. The people are eager to forget hardship..."

"As are you, I imagine."

"I don't want to forget anything," Tav said quickly, "I'm not doing this to forget. I'm doing it to benefit the people."

"And how exactly does this benefit them?" Wyll asked, "A miserable bride marrying a man she cares nothing for, who hides his true evil nature. I doubt that could benefit very many people at all. And I thought Ilmater expected his followers to stand up to tyrants? Surely Silvanus would not want you to do this either?"

"Persevere in the face of pain. Heal the sick, the wounded, and the diseased. Comfort the dying, the griefstricken, and the heartsick. Take on the burdens and the pain of others. Champion the causes of the oppressed and unjustly treated, and give shelter and kind counsel to the lonely, the lost, and the mined. Pursue the service of Ilmater, and he will provide," Tav said in the same low tone.

"Leave gross riches and the acquisition of all but medicines to others," Wyll challenged, "I've learned of Ilmater's rules too, you know. This would certainly not please him."

"Take up the tasks no others dare," Tav added in a defeated tone. "I don't want this, but I can do much more good as his wife than not."

Wyll seemed resigned. "You shouldn't have to do this. It's giving up too much--and that's coming from a man who knows."

Tav took a shaky breath.

"I know you mean well, Wyll, but...I've already lost everything. There's nothing this can take from me that's not already gone."

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"You PIGS!"

Mizora raged and cursed and fought, but there was no escaping her confines.

"My best work yet," came Balthazar's pleased voice, "Really, I should be thanking you for the opportunities you've sent my way."

"And the soul cage will hold her?"

"If it held Aylin, it can hold this one," Balthazar replied, "The only thing now is to test out its limits."

He looked at Karlach, by now smoking and steaming constantly.

The flames burned, hotter and hotter over the next several hours, and Tav followed her to the (empty) next room, where the fire rose and spread--

Tav gave a distressed yelp as Karlach slumped in the stone chair, burning alive. She was down, down and out, dead, gone...

...and then, suddenly, she wasn't.

Right before Tav's eyes, the damage was reversed, fixed right up...and Karlach sat up again.

"Well I'll be damned, the bastard wasn't lying. I..." Karlach seemed almost too incredulous to be happy, "...I'm still alive!"

Tav gave the tall tiefling a tight hug, and with a shaky voice added, "You're going to be alright after all."

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She could see Gortash now on the bridge, showing the false smile of an eager groom ready to wed his coming bride. When their eyes met it widened further, though she could see the victory in his eyes just as easily.

He was happy that he was getting this out of her, but he was more importantly displaying to all of Baldur's Gate who could see that he was happy with his choice of bride.

That was almost the worst part of it. That he could fake something so easily, and even more so that everyone around him could be fooled by it. Was she really the only one to notice? Was she the only one that would EVER see it? Perhaps not. Perhaps others knew and simply, like her, chose to say nothing for reasons of their own.

She considered simply jumping off the bridge, going to join Astarion and Halsin in the City of Judgment.

But then she considered the talk of the devils there...there were varying and conflicting ideas about what would take place. But several accounts mentioned devils willing to make deals.

That would send her to the Hells...

I am already in Hell, Tav thought, No need to add flames or physical torture to it too.

Halsin's voice popped into her head.

You have far too much good to offer to dash yourself to bits on the rocks to be food for the gulls. No matter what you may feel, death is an end to your ability to help those in need of you, my heart.

Astarion's voice joined alongside.

I'm so proud of you, kitten. You've schemed your way so high...now if only I were beside you, you would find your rule to be utter perfection. Alas...we can't have everything we want.

Her legs felt momentarily weak but she leaned against Wyll to buoy herself.

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"So, you're back. I presume my plan worked?" Gortash spoke in an easy tone that showed he already knew the answer.

"It did," Tav replied quietly. "You've given your token of good faith. Now tell me the rest of your...plan."

She didn't believe him in the slightest, but saving Karlach would be worth sitting through a session of listening to his nonsense.

"It's fairly simple," Gortash replied with a gesture, "You, and whomever the third stone was given to--"

"Karlach," Tav said quickly.

"Truly? Well, I did say someone of your choosing...and I imagine you picked her simply to have someone who despises me."

"Someone over whom you have no hold. Someone under no obligation to you."

"Which you consider yourself under."

She refused to answer.

She didn't have to.

Gortash went on succinctly, "Your hand in marriage."

Tav jerked back, and nearly fell out of her chair. She scrambled back up and practically shrieked, "Absolutely NOT! No. No. NO. A thousand times--"

"At least you didn't laugh."

"And what possible reason--what--no--first of all, WHY?"

"Because it would solve a lot of my problems," Gortash poured out two glasses of wine. "You would not believe the number of ladies I have at court, angling for my hand. Batting their eyelashes at me, hoping and praying to be the one to catch my eye."

"I should think that would make you HAPPY, that so many women want you. They would volunteer for--for what you're asking me."

"I have no patience for their pettiness, and what they have to offer, I could already get on my own. I want an end to the requests by fathers for me to consider their daughters as brides. An end to the scheming mothers who think mere compromises could sway me."

"The price you pay for relevance."

"I am a man made to rule. As much as you might think otherwise I am not fond of romance. You would have far greater freedom than you would as any other man's bride, to be quite honest. In fact, I would expect it."

"What?"

Not that she was entertaining the idea. Not for a second.

"You're a hero, the talk of the town. You--and your friends, of course, but primarily you, in their eyes--stopped the evil Ketheric Thorm and his shadow curse. Saved that druid grove, laid waste to a large chunk of the army of the Absolute..."

He smirked.

"...and have at great risk to your personal reputation, done everything possible to help those refugees no one here wants. You have been a better exemplar of the God on the Rack's ideals than those hypocritical clerics at the temple of the Open Hand. Though I suppose if someone killed one of my men, I might be equally as--"

"Get to the point."

"You would be good for my reputation," he replied, "Your love for the plant and animal life, the charity your tender heart leads you to. All you lack is a title and steady coin to do that oh-so-generous work. And those I can give you."

Tav opened her mouth to reply, but found she had nothing to say.

"I have no patience for such things in any case. The masses would like someone closer to their level...one who has known difficulty and struggle. Pain and strife."

Again, nothing.

"Really, the terms are rather generous. A few parties on my arm, societal obligations..."

Marital duties, Tav thought sourly. She could see he was thinking it. But that desire was secondary to his desire for power. He seemed the type to seek it only for stress relief, not the carnal eagerness Astarion had once shown, or the wild desire that Halsin had.

At least there was that mercy.

If she accepted this offer, he would be like neither of her beloveds.

If...

"...and in return, the ability to continue doing the good you're always so eager to do."

"Which will naturally make you look like a wonderful leader."

"The great Lord Gortash, defender of the city, and you...the lady of charity and healing. After all that has happened, the city is ripe for someone like you. How much better if we work together. The people would simply love the story - their mighty lord smitten with a defender of the people."

"A--a loveless marriage, though, in the end." Tav stumbled on her words and went quiet.

"Indeed. I don't love you, and you don't love me, but I'm certain you're capable of showing that you feel the opposite...and frankly, it's better there be no love between us. Would you really want to repeat that sorry scene you described to me, should an assassin succeed against me?"

Do you want to feel that pain again? Tav thought. A stab of grief pierced her heart. The image of Astarion and Halsin, bloody on the ground. No. No. Never again. I never want to feel that way, EVER again.

After a long pause to discuss the terms of the rest of this little deal as they pertained to Karlach and the agreement that would be made between the three of them, he went back to the topic.

"I do require an answer rather soon, you know."

Images of herself with Astarion, with Halsin, with both of them, passed through her mind in a rush. Safe and close, cuddling, loving...

"Fine."

"Give a proper answer, if you please."

Say the words, his expression told her. I want to hear them.

"I will accept your proposal," Tav replied, "And--I will marry you."

The smirk that spread across Gortash's face then was absolutely heinous.

He produced a short length of copper wire, and gestured.

"Give me the nether stone."

When she blanched, he set his other hand on the table; his own netherstone was now within easy reach.

"I thought I might give you a gift."

Keeping both hands on the table, ready to move forward and stop him if he tried anything, Tav waited.

Gortash wrapped her netherstone in the copper wire, and then reached into his pocket for what looked like a strange strip of black velvet with a clasp. With the remaining wire he bound the stone up to the velvet.

"I am not a jeweler," he said, standing once he was done, and leading her (despite her reluctance) to a mirror in the corner of the room. On arrival he brought the necklace up, and fastened the clasp behind her neck, then let his hands rest on her shoulders. "But I think it suits you."

Inwardly, Tav quailed.

Outwardly, she said quietly, "It does, doesn't it."

"I knew you'd see things my way."

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Tav's hands were joined with Gortash's, and the priest spoke the words to begin her binding to this despicable man.

She repeated her part of the vows stiffly, but managed to keep her false smile as she spoke them.

I hate him. I hate him so much.

But when the ceremony concluded, when her lips touched his, when the faint but rich taste of the wine he'd no doubt drunk crossed her tongue, it also occurred to her that she was lucky.

Because to marry a man she hated meant she would never mourn him as she had Astarion and Halsin.

It was a pain she need never feel again.

"People of Baldur's Gate!" she heard her new husband call out, "May I present to you, Duchess Gortash!"

The cheer that went up did nothing to fill Tav's hollow heart.

[y-rhywbeth2]

Ketheric continues to be the member of the Chosen I struggle to get a grip on. Like the other three I can tell you the details of why (I think) they grew up to monsters:

Long post.

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Let's start with Gortash: spent his childhood being told he was a selfish monster for his thoughts - apparently from birth - for the way he perceived the world, for *checks notes* wanting his parents attention as an undeveloped human being that relies on its parents to survive and thrive.

Then his parents send him to hell as part of a deal. Because that's where monsters go isn't it? They go to hell to suffer eternal damnation because they were monsters in life.

So you grow up in one of the literal cesspits of the universe, where the only people you meet are the literal scum of the universe, or those you're going to learn to see as weak fools who had to rely on others - and were ultimately willing to commit atrocities themselves - who were taken advantage of by the scum of the universe. You get to the Hells by committing atrocities, either because you want something so badly you'll fuck somebody over for it (out of greed, or because you couldn't fix it yourself (weak)) or because you did them of your own volition. And curiously, some of these people had their price tags wrapped in such subtle terms they don't even realise they did anything wrong! Lesson learned; anyone will willingly be a monster if you make the evil sound nice. Every single devil you meet has had the humanity flayed from their soul, and they got to where they are in their existences by fomenting (and committing) hate and rape and murder and everything evil under the sun as a regular Monday morning in the ultimate goal to make the universe an evil place. Devils are also 'self made men', everybody started from nothing as a lemure and clawed their way to where they are now. Every social interaction in the Hells is manipulation and abuse. Everyone there hurts everyone.

But you do have one example of a good person! There's Hope! Lovely lady, kind and sweet... Trapped in hell being abused forever going insane because of it because your ambitious sister fucked you over. That's where trust and love being a good person gets you.

And that was his entire social life. That was the people he had to look to for examples. All his early experiences were limited to a sample of the absolute worst it has to offer, and he has a very skewed view of the universe.

And the fact that he's apparently so damn good at sex a lady gave him a ring worth everything she owns after growing up around a pleasure devil whose role is harming and corrupting people with sex and has built in charm person at etc is not ringing alarm bells(!) I'm not side-eyeing the boudoir at all.

I wonder why having a child/teen spend their formative years in the evil factory literally designed to spit out monsters... spat out a monster? Kudos to Karlach, though: just how many layers of defence mechanisms has she got in her brain?

Gortash's thought processes are 50% through the lens of engineering and 50% through the lens of a devil's perspective to me. People will sell out others for their own gain, because they're too weak to do it themselves or because they're bastards. If you don't get with the programme you're the victim. You only get ahead by being ruthless. Everybody is untrustworthy, and relying on them will get you betrayed. The world is divided into the weak and the ruthlessly strong who take what they want. Yes, he's a monster. And so are his parents. And so is everyone. And then Bane saw this perfect example of his way of thinking and said 'that one.'

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Orin: obviously we've got grooming. The fact that her formative memories include her mother trying to murder her, and the fact that she feels like the only person who has ever cared about her or supported her is her grandfather. Who is implied to have been raping her, or intending to. All she's permitted is to have her brain poisoned by her faith, which her life revolves around, and then her kin 'does it all wrong' and inherits everything she's been groomed to believe is hers. But no, 'they're not wrong,' says everybody around her 'you are!'

She's a Bhaalspawn, so her relationships with her kin are "kill or be killed," as Helena proved. You will please father by slaughtering your siblings, or you will die - or worse. You must be and stay favoured by Bhaal above all the others to be truly safe ("safe"), and Durge outranking her is a threat to her existence. Actually Durge existing is a threat to her well-being. She has no way to live a life outside the cult, never has and never will. Her life is insanely lonely and mostly consists of paranoia.

But the overlaying theme here is that she's a changeling. She's mirrorkin with no unique physical identity of her own, she can only reflect those of others. To be dnd canon accurate: she has no real facial features, no pigmentation. She's not permitted an identity of her own, and was punished for trying. She's a mirror born and raised to reflect the glory of Bhaal, the glory of her failed grandfather, the rise of Bhaal's favourite child. Never her own. Gee, I wonder why she literally wears people's skins.

Denied the ability to do anything but live according to what she's told, she does her best to live up to it because to fail is to become her parents and the countless aunts and uncles currently enjoying their damnation in the Throne of Blood. And then she's told she's doing it wrong. By everybody. She's a 'rabid dog'. She, despite having doctrine poured into her ears and probably carved into her flesh her entire life 'doesn't understand Bhaal.' And everybody is insanely patronising about it! You're never allowed to be anything but what we tell you to be, but you're still not good enough! Which is death. The Temple of Bhaal needs murder feminism.

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The Dark Urge is my favourite little nightmare, and I've talked about them at length: much of Orin's trauma also applies to them, although where she's a mirror made to reflect the egos of others, Durge is only allowed one identity: Bhaal's. Where Orin can never seem to reach the standards forced on her, Durge is never allowed to fail to meet them, or else. Every outside connection they ever had was brutally sabotaged, and they've had 'you're a monster and only I (your abusive Father) can love you' drilled into their mind. They hate themself. We got the threat of sexual exploitation (assuming it didn't happen), there's a subtle undercurrent of incest to some interactions. The prayer for forgiveness kind of sums it all up: 'I'm sorry for forming an emotional connection that isn't blind love for you father, but don't fret, I'll destroy it with my own hands just like everything else and then finally get to kill myself just like I've always wanted.'

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But Ketheric? Like villains don't need tragic backstories to be terrible people, but it does make them more interesting.

OK, so your bio family is fucked up and I definitely get the impression that they sucked (Malus is giving me vibes that say he'd have been a villain anyway, and might've been secretly Sharran to start with; Gerringothe seems to be drowning whatever her issues are in gold), and then the loving family you made for yourself broke: your wife died, and your daughter died, sure. But plenty of people on Toril probably have similar if not the same stories and didn't go evil overlord! Why are you doing this? What is informing these decisions? Why does your existence hinge so much on your dead daughter that your son is basically named after her and you seem to hate him for existing and not being her? Does Shar have something to do with it? Has Ketheric just carved out so much memory and emotion, so much of his own identity, that all that's left is the grief and the hunger for the pain to stop but, as per Shar's intent, it keeps coming back, with less and less positive memories to soften the pain. A wound that festers and never heals. Is the obsession with Isobel because she's the icon of everything that was good in his life, and her loss was the moment everything good was gone? Was he a rational man who turned to Shar to stop the pain in a moment of understandable grief and rage at her sister, and then was trapped in a cycle that destroyed everything that was good in that man until we get the General?

Just guess working my way through his entire backstory...

[tyran-the-tyranical]

That one line from Raphael's Second Diary will never cease to get me 🥺 LIKE MIGHT I ADD- these are his private thoughts, separate from his manipulation attempts and so he, with his full chest, admits so much in his second diary, like when he says "never have I been so attracted to mortals as I am to those infested by the tadpole." AHH, (my delusions are so real, trust)

BUT WHEN HE SAYS "They gestured to the melting hooks, suddenly glanced my way, and in their face I saw they had the best of me." look, I get the subtext behind all these quotes, but a girl can just ignore all that media literacy and take it for face value, OK? 💅 but also reading into it, he does admire Tav to a certain extent, and I have to wonder, why? Tav isn't an origin character and Tav's actions and character basically changes with every playthrough (Same with Durge, as they can change too) So I have to wonder if it's because Tav is controlled by the player, since, Raphael does end up breaking the fourth wall in his epilogue speech, so perhaps that's what he sees.

Another way to look at it is, either way, no matter what the playthrough, he sees something in Tav, something that makes them stand out much brighter than their companions (For some reason???)

To further that statement, what is the best of Raphael? I mean, if its an evil playthrough, that would be obvious, but if you're playing a good playthrough, what then? perhaps what he sees is someone he can finally use to get the crown, that's also very likely. Still though that's a very to the point (IMO) not as interesting of a reading since it's literally just his end goal for us, BUT STILL A VALID ONE, because, it is true, that's what he wants from us the most.

Also his third diary where he just straight up admits that he's being so honest with us so he can manipulate us, love that for him, "I am master here. A prince of bargains cloaked like scarlet satin. All that hidden under sublimely obvious truths that cannot be discounted." Which also makes me wonder, is Raphael actually an honest person? I mean, Korilla thinks he's at least decent, but honest? outside of helping us, if we look at Yurgir, he really fucked him over lol. Obviously, Raphael isn't what he seems, even if he's honest with us, to what extent? he says it himself, he's honest about "...sublimely obvious truths..." but what about when he says he's grown quite fond of us in his own way, HMMMM?

I wish this man got a proper story arc in the game, outside of the whole deal for the hammer and House of Hope, that's all plot related for the hammer, but a storyline about Raphael as a character? I mean yea, maybe that would whisk away some of his mystery, his intrigue, but I'm sorry- you cant just end it with him fucking himself (poorly) and trying to break Hope (making her a metaphorical symbol of hope anyway, I think....) AND LEAVE IT THERE?!?!? at the same time, I do like the ambiguity of his character, you could think of him as a cruel bastard after seeing what he's done in the House Of Hope to his debtors and Hope herself or perhaps just a Pathetic lil guy who's shit in bed lol, or maybe even soft, if you go off Korillas words and what he does for us in game he can come across as quite nice, especially after we've interacted with Mizora who's is the only other Cambion example we can go off of.

I also just think it's interesting that he sees anything in Tav/Durge at all. Ofc he says he sees the best of him (Always gotta relate back to himself lol) but that especially a mortal is what he could see himself, the best of himself, but then again he does see potential and ambition as admirable (?) or just something he appreciates, you can see that with Mol and Gortash to some extent anyway, But what ambitions does Tav have outside of just trying to survive? Like, the obvious answer is he wants us to give him the crown and we're the underdog in the story but then why does he refer to Tav so differently then? I fear this has turned into another rant again, lol.

Just a final thought here, but, if he did ever get a story arc, similar to the companions, would they give you multiple directions to take his character? i mean with Shadowheart for example, you could help her break from shar or have her fully convert into shars chosen, but even then, if you free her from shar theres the point of saving her family or freeing her from Shars (curse?) there's multiple ways for her story to end. Though, Raphael isnt a companion, so would he have something similar to idk a minor companion like Halsin or Minthara, who don't really have that much of a diversion (I think) in their endings, they don't really have the option, only really if the player decides to be evil or not, they kinda just follow them either way, it doesn't really impact their own stories. Obviously, I would prefer something with nuance but also, HE ISN'T A COMPANION 😭 and pressingly some of the companions need more work done than he does atm lol. Maybe that's me just projecting lol, once again, me wanting to have my cake and eat it too, anyway, that's me done... for now lol

[sequesteredbhaalspawn]

Another thing I dislike about BG3 is how they handle Warlocks. LIKE Warlock pacts are not inherently predatory. Not even ones with Devils.

Also they kind of treat deals with evils the same as a warlock pact (in the case of Wyll) and that is also annoying. ALSO if one is in a deal with a devil that devil is just as beholden to the deal as the other person is in it, Devils live and die by their rules.

I also just feel like coding Raphael as being like a p*d*phile with his interaction with Mol in Act 2 is just so unnecessary (it also just paints Gortash spending his childhood with him in much more disgusting light as well). Like it's obvious from the second you meet him that he is a manipulative bastard that uses people only out for himself. That really didn't need to be added on, in my opinion.

And a smaller note on why it is annoying because it also feels like it falls into Larian's whole "The gods and religion are bad" narrative through out the game, like "Gods/Religion are only sources of abuse and the alternatives are the same/worse." (But I also just feel like "woe is me I am a warlock" kind of story is completely over done and boring, so I am a bit bias to portraying pacts as only being bad, 🤣)

eehhhh, I'm just complaining.

I over all really do like BG3. I wouldn't care as much as I do if I didn't.

[lucklessrat]

Erp..For the ask, 2, 7, 14, 18, 20 or 30? Answer whichever you want lol ik its a lot so its fine if you dont answer all:)

WOW nah imma answer all of them lmao i love talking about my boy

2. Did your Dark Urge have any romantic and/or sexual relationships prior to their illithid adventure? If yes, who was it with and what was it like? If no, how did they feel about being single?

COMING IN HOT WITH THE BIG QUESTIONS. So the thing about Leth is that he's really, really old. He's about 300, and his life is roughly broken in to 3 phases: His youth, the huge chunk of time he spent as a tiger with no memory of having been a person, and the period in which he served as the head of Bhaal's temple in BG. In his youth be was a bit of a playboy, so he had a long and complicated dating history, but they were mostly casual relationships. He dated less and less as his Urge got worse. For the last two phases he had completely withdrawn from other people both emotionally and physically. Unfortunately, he also had A Thing with Gortash but in his defense, he had not gotten laid in like 200 years. That relationship was 100% emotionally manipulative toxic bullshit, but it happened.

7. Did your Dark Urge recall any childhood memories? If yes, how do they feel about the revelations? If no, was it by choice or lack of options?

I think he recovered most of his memories by the end of the game. They're painful to think back on, but it was a very long time ago now.

14. How good of a liar is your Dark Urge? How do they feel about lying?

He is a VERY good liar, but he hates doing it. Not for any moral reason, he's just very blunt and direct by nature. He GREATLY prefers intimidation over deception.

18. How does your Dark Urge feel about love?

Another hard hitting question! Look, Leth is just a big stupid sentimental old man, and he loves very deeply and earnestly. He's also a miserable bastard. He isn't shy or dishonest about how he feels or what he wants, but he avoids getting attached to people, mostly because he's afraid of hurting them. He regards love as "an inconvenient inevitability of the thinking mind," and he is a dick to almost everyone he meets, but damn if he can't stop himself from trying to help them anyway.

20. Is your Dark Urge open about their Urge or do they try to hide it? Why?

He's open about it, for the same reason he hates lying. Deception only complicates things, and he would rather give fair warning and be left alone then accept company from people who don't know what they're getting themselves in to.

30. What are your Dark Urge’s intentions/goals after the end of the game?

Lethean is honestly so fucking tired lmfao. He'll probably stay with Astarion post-game, but he's so exhausted by then that he's like, "I've lead a cult, then another cult, and then lead a small army that I unified to destroy both of those cults. I'm tired of leading. You do it."

[eye-of-yelough]

Here’s a fragment of an old Gortash/Aeryn wip i abandoned because i didn’t like how i was characterising Gort (too soft) so here’s the best part. which is coincidentally his meanest part >:3

it’s not overtly sexual but it is mature. they’re both very horny.

dubcon/intox warning (both very mild)

Finally meeting Gortash’s eyes makes him feel like a mallet’s been taken to his head, seeing the expression he imagines is on his own face reflected back to him. Wide, already dark eyes consumed by the blackest black of his pupils, taking shallow breaths through his ever so slightly slackjawed lips. He isn’t unaffected by this. Enver Gortash, professional liar, so affected he doesn’t even pretend not to be.

And then the bastard grins.

He watches as he reaches back for the champagne, unwilling to break eye contact. There’s a glint of manic excitement in his eye, and the faintest of wavers in voice as he holds the bottle up to Aeryn’s mouth.

“My friend, you look like you could use a drink.”

The tingle between his thighs turns to a pounding throb as Gortash’s expression turns downright sadistic. He doesn’t have time to react before his head is being tugged back by Gortash’s fist in his hair and the disgusting liquid is forced into his open mouth. He knows it’s not poisoned, it was opened fresh and he’s already had a glass of it, so what’s this fucker’s game?! The bottle is put down, or it must be, because the hand it was in covers his mouth, barring exit.

“Be a dear and swallow it, darling, or do you want to choke?”

He reaches both hands up to seize Gortash’s wrist, but not before his hair is painfully yanked again, bringing a pitiful, muffled cry from him. That, along with the jostling nearly does make him choke.

“Breathe, and obey.” The way he can manipulate his voice to sound simultaneously so comforting and leave no room for disobedience should be studied by aspiring Banites everywhere. He realises the wretched throb between his thighs has only intensified, as well as the pounding of his heart, and the haziness in his skull. He closes his eyes - Father, forgive me, he’s ruined my life - and swallows.

Emotion overwhelms him, arousal, animalistic rage, dizziness, butterflies. He can only stare and shake violently as they war within him, unsure wether he wants to bury into Gortash’s chest cavity out of hatred or to crawl in and let himself be consumed. Hands slide away, taking their warmth with them, as Gortash leans back, shifting his weight, laughing faintly in disbelief and still wearing that shit eating grin, a mischievous look in his eye like he’s just been given the keys to Aeryn’s soul, and has no intention of using it with even the loosest definition of kindness.

“I can’t believe you let me do that. I just wanted to see what would happen but- Ha! My, my, you’ve lost your edge, little Bhaalist.”

[blackjackkent]

(Touch Prompts)

Third prompt from @astreamofstars from this ask.

“Karlach/your choice - 5”

5. touch with an apology

-----

"Karlach? Karlach! Hey, wait!" Hector has to break into a run, so quickly does Karlach stride away from the exit of Wyrm's Rock with her longer gait. "Wait up!"

Karlach doesn't wait up, doesn't even slow her pace until the fortress is out of view and they're back inside the walls of the Lower City. Then she stops abruptly below the arch of Basilisk Gate and just stands there, her shoulders heaving, fists clenched at her sides. Flickers of flame move over her shoulders and down her back.

"Hey..." Hector reaches her side and moves to put a hand on her shoulder, but she jerks away. He frowns. "Hey - are you all right?"

"Fuck, no, I'm not all right," Karlach snaps, not looking at him. "Ten years I've waited to see that bastard again. Ten years I've wanted to plant a fist between Gortash's smug fucking eyes. And there he is, right out there in plain sight, and you hold me back! You and Wyll both, just making me stand there and watch while he's crowned king of the bloody city!"

"Karlach--"

"And all that noise he was making about cutting a deal. Like we were another of his fucking arms clients, like we'd want to control that thing..." She laughs brokenly. "Same as ever, manipulative bastard..."

"Karlach..."

She falls silent, and he waits a moment before stepping a little closer. Cautiously he slips in front of her into her line of view and reaches up to rest his hand on her cheek, and this time she doesn't pull away.

"I'm sorry," he says softly. "Truly I am. And we will get him, in the end, and when the time comes I will hold him while you flatten him to the floor. It... it wasn't the right time."

She scowls, but her head tips to the side to press her cheek more heavily against his palm. He can feel the heavy pulse of heat from her engine under her skin. "I don't care about the right time. I need the bastard to pay, Hec."

"He will." Hector's voice is low, soothing, but it vibrates with an undercurrent of echoing rage. "After everything you've told me... everything he did to you... I was never going to ask you to let him live. Believe me..." He swallows, and a flash of fear breaks through his steady expression. "But Wyll's father was there, and those Watchers, too... they would have been on us in an instant. And if they'd taken you... I don't know what they would have done." He runs his thumb along her cheekbone gently. "I couldn't bear for them to hurt you, not if we could find another way by waiting."

She nods slightly. "You and your fucking monk patience in a tight spot," she mutters, but there's a weak smile in the words now. "Gah, fuck. I know you're right. I don't like it, but I know."

He tugs her head gently forward so her forehead rests against his. "My monk patience only goes so far," he murmurs ruefully. "I will deeply enjoy watching you wreak your vengeance on him when the time comes."

She grins crookedly, then tilts her head and brushes her lips against his. "You better believe I plan to give you a good show."

He rests his hand at the base of her neck and pulls her close, deepening the kiss. He can feel her relax into him, and his own tension eases slightly in response. "I would expect nothing less..."

[crossdressingdeath]

Counsellor Florrick: A lot's changed since you left Baldur's Gate, Wyll. Gortash has gained considerable influence since then. Kyvir: 'Gortash'... That name... It's sickeningly familiar... Counsellor Florrick: Lord Gortash is the man responsible for the creation of the Steel Watch. It's no wonder he earned the title. The Steel Watch are the future of warfare. Gondian automatons that can be sent into battle without risking any lives - except those of our enemies. Lord Gortash had only completed work on the prototypes before Ravengard and I left for Elturel, but even they were formidable.

I got the Durgetash line! Durge finding Gortash's name "sickeningly familiar" when the Prayer for Forgiveness shows that they cared enough for him that they felt the need to beg Bhaal for forgiveness over it is so good, I love it.

Also: why am I not surprised that Ravengard was all for the Steel Watch. Why am I not even a little surprised that he didn't question it. Fucking useless Flaming Fist bastard. Not like Gortash was building those things on the backs of slave labour or anything! Not like the Foundry was presumably already a thing when he was making the prototypes! (If it wasn't that's... very impressive, but I believe it was if I'm understanding the sequence of events right.) Gortash didn't need to be a master manipulator to fool the Fist, all he had to do was say "Hey, I have a way for you to slaughter people en masse at no risk to yourselves" and they were all falling over themselves to kiss his boots.

[medra-gonbites]

Meet the scum of Toril: Robert (Bob) Slay

Allignement: Lawful Evil - embrace Bhaal

Class: Warlock (Pact of Fey)

Love Interest: Robert only has fuck buddies ; He is incapable of love

Likes: Murder, Gaslighting, Cats

Hates: Lae'zel, Children, Short Swords ("either use a dagger or a long sword, what kind of p***y needs an in-between?!")

Backstory:

A long time ago, when Robert was still a barbarian, he met the Arch Fey Hyrsam, The Prince of Fools, during a assassionation mission in the forest. He had just murdered a politcal delegation on their way to Neverwinter and targeted by Gortash. Little did he know he was spilling blood on the ArchFey's territory, which the latter actually rather liked. After a steamy night together, Robert sealed a pact with the Satyre Lord to grant him access to Feywild powers and perks, becoming his warlock. His history with Feys made it easier for him to trust Auntie Ethel whom he let have a go at his tadpole, resulting in the loss of his eye.

Robert is a master gaslighter and the most manipulative, cold-hearted, son of a bitch character I have ever created and played and it was excruciatingly hard to finsih his playthrough because of I had to take breaks often.

He is a sick bastard who deceives first and if he cannot get his way, will use a lot of disproportionate violence.

[y-rhywbeth2]

The Absolute being a pissing contest between the Dead Three is so fitting as a theory. They haven't worked together for a century due to two of them being dead and now they have to relearn that cooperation and establish how their relationships are going to work in their new 15th century alliance.

How are we doing that? With the Chosen. Bhaal's psychologically destroyed two of his kids beyond all belief priming them for apocalyptic murder-suicide; Myrkul's manipulating Ketheric's grief just like Shar did (and those two deities are also friends); Bane... uh, Gortash would have been a bastard anyway, but Bane giving him a direction to take the evil really did not help.

And what is all this suffering for? As Bane canonically tells you, they don't care if the scheme works or not (honestly it would probably fuck them over). It's about proving that '[Bane] will still rise' being the most successful of the Three historically, or that the other two (Bhaal being forced into subservience to Bane, Myrkul having lost so much ground to younger gods) still have the drive to claw their way to power and don't need to yield. And also to knock Bane, specifically, down a peg.

Deciding who is 'on top' and who will 'yield.' All this trauma the mortals are building their life around, preparing for a new world order that their deities don't actually care that much about because at the end of the day this is literally just gods fucking around with mortal lives in a dick measuring contest over who gets to be in charge.

Yep. Definitely sounds like the Powers of Realmspace as they're usually written, especially the evil ones.

[wetcatspellcaster]

“But instead I thought, 'hey, you know, I get it. Break ups are hard. There's obviously some anger there, and you've had no one to express it to. Maybe it’s ok you built a house instead of coming to help, despite being literally invulnerable’. So I talked to Wyll, and we started inviting him to things. We checked in on him, we offered to let him join us on missions - though he never came. We tried to make him feel... included.”

Karlach ran her fingers through her hair, “I invited him to my birthday party - can you imagine that man, the way he is now, with a bunch of my friends, at my birthday? My first proper party, in fucking years, never mind my first birthday since I was freed from Avernus for good? Astarion was… horrible. Angry. Prowling like an animal. All but spitting on everyone else there, just for the sin of being people, you know, with flaws, and with their mistakes and their lives. Someone said something silly, and he charmed them, right there in front of me. Asked them to admit they were an idiot. He only stopped because I asked him to, and I saw it - the moment in his eyes, when he remembered I was a person he was supposed to care about. It took him longer than it should. And it was like he didn’t even consider the rest of them to be real people, just extensions of me.”

“But… we kept trying. We made things smaller, so it was just us, like the good old days. But… he just got worse. Crueller. At first, he only hurt himself, hosting those big grand parties with every vice under the sun, that he clearly hated, and fucking everything that moved, just to prove he could. And then when, surprise! That didn’t make him any less fucking miserable! He just started lashing out at us. Made us meet him at the Caress. Told us all the terrible things he was doing, just so they had an audience beyond himself. The things he used to say to Wyll…”

Thank you for the ask! :D

So, as I said in the chapter endnotes, this was my first time writing Karlach properly (you will note that she now keeps coming up in An Honest Lie bc I awkwardly have to pretend she's always been there, and everything else I wrote was Early Access). I was super nervous when posting! 1. bc she's a new character and I found her voice difficult to get down. 2. bc she's the fan favourite and right out of the gate, I was making her suffer :-)

Saying all that, Karlach was a really fun POV for this fic and this chapter's development specifically bc while she is self-sacrificing, I also think she is not as much so as Wyll, or my Tav. She's been through too much shit in her life and been burned by trusting people like Gortash, so if a guy looks shady af and treats her like shit, I think she has absolutely has a cut-off point, no matter who that person is or was to her in her past. She isn't just going to suffer for the sake of it, she will call a bastard a bastard if she needs to... unlike the resident martyrs of the party.

So yeah. I had Astarion ruin a birthday party :') This is partly bc, for all that this fic deals with Astarion's villain era, I'm not a Dead Dove girlie, so I needed the evil things he does to have emotional impact without being gruesome or triggering. I figured ruining our Best Gal's birthday would be a pretty effective crime to add to the list.

Why was Astarion a bitch at this birthday? A number of reasons. The first is that it hurt to see Karlach and Wyll happy and free of infernal influence. The second is that... Astarion is just forgetting how it works to be around people. Manipulating people he's still got down, but just... being in a space? With people he cannot control and has no power over, who he just has to let slip up and fumble and be generally choatic around him? I imagine the inhuman monster isolated and frozen in time without his soul forgot that pretty quickly, after a year without anybody but those he bought to his side on his own terms.

It truly is as Karlach says: he got angry at others "just for the sin of being people". Astarion is no longer human/mortal, and he cannot relate to humans anymore. He also cannot stand seeing other people happy in ways that did not require any supernatural aid or sacrifice - a reminder that he could've done it that way, if he'd been brave enough to risk it - and he also doesn't like people who seem undeserving of that happiness - ie. people who just seem to be 'doing fine' without any seeming effort.

What did the person who was charmed say to trigger it? Well, I think they were maybe one of those type of people: an average guy who'd stumbled into something good that he didn't really deserve through circumstances that were not his doing. I imagined him as a pretty arrogant mercenary that would be in Karlach/Wyll's wider circle of friends (a guest of a guest, say, in the adventuring trade), who is bragging and peacocking and isn't really a good person? Just an alright one? But talking about himself like he's the dog's bollocks. And Astarion got bored of him talking and so he charmed him and humiliated him, bc he was frustrated with this random man's existence and also bored.

In regards to the final paragraph, I struggle to imagine Ascended!Astarion as someone who is crass enough to often resort to violence. I imagine his brand of cruelty as being a lot more psychologically driven. For all that game Astarion brags about loving to kill, his arsenal is, ultimately, emotional and sexual manipulation first and foremost. So in this 'descent into villainy' (again, the non-dead dove edition), I tried to make Astarion's evil manifest by making people physically and emotionally uncomfortable through his behaviour. Pushing them to see how far they'd break, or how far they'd compromise themselves and their morals to be around him. Especially people like Wyll and Karlach, who would care if he hurt himself or make up narratives about how it was a cry for help. I think partly, Ascended!Astarion loves to watch these characters twist themselves into knots trying to find excuses for his behaviour, striving to remain kind to him and remain his friend even as it gets harder and harder. And also, maybe, somewhere, it's a fun test for him - to prove that people still care, that he still has people who care for him, until they don't and they're gone.

DVD commentary ask

[isobel-thorm]

WIP Thursday

Tagged by @euryalex Tagging: @shallow-gravy @socially-awkward-skeleton @captastra

BG3 and Outer Worlds nonsense below the cut bc writing bug is back with a vengeance and I cannot keep up

BG3:

Reina stared at the boy, and it suddenly occurred to her that she had no idea what to do or how to react. She had been so sure, she had come to this mansion- this prison for this reason, and now here she was, choking at the last second.  Luckily, she didn’t have long to choke, because Thomas settled the indecision for her. He was immediately in tears and he practically flew across the impossibly large room before he wrapped himself around her. “You’re home! I was so frightened! Dad-Dad-Dad said you were sick for a long time and he wouldn’t let me see you-”  She wondered briefly it was just part of Gortash’s manipulation there- but whose benefit was it for? And sick? Was he referring to the tadpole? Had he even been referring to her? Or deep under all the power-hungry nonsense was there still some sort of concerned father under all of that?

‘- He-he-he said you were real sick, an’ couldn’t- it made you very mean, and you were scaring people and he didn’t want you to hurt me-”  Orin it was. She must’ve been around impersonating Reina and Gortash had told him to steer clear for his safety. Something in her stomach turned. Bastard went and sold one surrogate daughter to Zariel without care, but kept his own flesh and blood safe from an equal threat. She hated that it made her conflicted all over again- to a certain extent, of course. Karlach and her now had a bond that no one could sever, she couldn’t forgive Gortash for doing that to her. And now she couldn’t forgive herself for standing by and letting it happen those years ago. Still, he kept her boy safe. And now she had sealed the deal by putting Orin down. She bent to hold him properly. “I’m better now, don’t worry. I’m not gonna hurt you or anyone.”  “Promise?”  Her heart lurched again at the hopeful look he gave her. “Promise.” Protectiveness settled back into her chest and once again, it felt like something had clicked back into place. This was her boy. She’d move mountains for him, hell, even kill for him if necessary. And suddenly a lot more made sense. He wasn’t much older than Mirkon and Arabella, so that explained how fierce she had been in their defense. She had made up her mind quickly about Kagha after she threatened Arabella, and the Shadow Druid ordeal had just been a convenient excuse. She had barely left Mirkon’s side with her group when they escorted him back, and then had felt such pride when he gave her the story he’d written shortly after. With Mol, she had some complicated feelings of pride there, too, and when they reunited at the Inn she had heard Raphael’s voice following Mol’s and had nearly yanked the door between her and the voices clean off its hinges in her haste to stop whatever meddling the Devil had been up to and rigged the game for Mol to win. Raphael’s look of disdain had melted to something of sheer arrogance, and now she wondered if he knew all along that she was like that because she had a son back home. For the faintest moment she wondered if he himself was the devil that had raised Gortash and their whole ordeal was just family drama.

Outer Worlds

The Cap- Vex hadn't changed much since he had last seen her. She had apparently grown out her hair. Gone was the mess of teal pinned up with a couple of bobby pins, replaced by sandy brown waves. She still had the edges dyed green, probably fresh for the wedding. Her face was softer, too. Amazing what no longer having the weight of the world on your shoulders could do. He instinctively pressed closer when she looped her arm around his shoulders, enthusiastically talking to Ellie about something. Law, he had missed her. So badly. Max glanced across the table at Felix, Parvati and Nyota were staring back at him. Parvati was looking between him and Vex dreamily, and Felix and Nyota were smirking at him. He made a face at them, and both of their smirks merely widened.

[tieflingtareon]

My love, are you the devil? (Oh, call me a devil)

Chapter 26 | Words: 5.5k

Summary: Astarion found himself often surprised by his heroic companion. He had one goal. To become the favoured companion of the group, to earn the Tieflings loyalty, to make Tar'eons strength his own. Yet Tar'eon isn't like the usual target of his manipulations. Despite his naivety, he does not seem gullible. There is something very wrong with their 'leader' to begin with. Astarion isn't sure if he wants to control it or eradicate the threat it posed. But can he really do either when Tar'eon himself seems so...unwaveringly kind?

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50668558/chapters/127995079

Tar'eon looked out at the city in the distance, leaning against cool stone as he squinted, trying to make out some sort of landmark that would stir familiarity within his mind. The city itself felt familiar, yes, but there was no memory linked to its sight. If anything, he simply felt uneasy at the silence of the night.

The wood creaked behind him and he looked over, expecting Jaheria, maybe Astarion, but no. It was Karlach. He smiled, shifting as he stood upright.

"Hey...I- I know you wanted to say something, back there, after the battle. I'm sorry if it came off like I was ignoring you. Everything happened so fast, and everyone wanted to say something, wanted to talk - are you alright? You looked...kind of mad."

"Oh, I was - fucking furious." Karlach stepped up to his side and leaned against the stone herself, glaring out into the city. "I still am."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Tar'eon offered and Karlach seemed to weigh with the decision for a few moments before nodding softly.

"Gortash - you saw him."

"I did." Tar'eon did not remark on the strange feeling in his chest when it came to the subject of the man. He wasn't sure what it was, and not being able to remember only vexed him more.

"That bastard - that motherfucker..." She gritted her teeth, baring canines. "He's the one who sold me off to Zariel." His eyes widened at the confession, waiting for her to continue. He couldn't imagine what he'd even be able to say to that.

"I fucking trusted him too - but apparently I was only worth coin, or whatever the fuck he traded me in for, to him." She shook her head, almost wanting to cry, but she refused to. Not over that. It had been a decade but it still ached like viciously. "I was his bodyguard. A wild, scrappy kid who got into fights all over the city. He got his claws into me early." She chuckled bitterly.

"I looked after him with my life. It was easy money for me. He was the indoorsy type with a lot of enemies. And he - he took one look at me and told me I was perfect." She closed her eyes. "I liked that. Not- not like that, you know. Just- it felt like a good fit. I kept him safe, and he paid me well. Well enough to move my folks into a better neighbourhood and put away for the future. My future." What a good lot of shit that had done.

"We were similar in age, but we were opposites in every other way. I respected him though. Trusted him. And he returned that trust, that respect. His life was in my hands, and I took that seriously." She wished she hadn't. She wished she had snuffed him out herself that first day on the job. "The whole thing with Zariel happened so fast - one minute I was in Baldur's Gate, a happy, healthy not-quite-kid, the next, I was burning up in Avernus with an engine for a heart."

"I'm sorry, Karlach. I'm so sorry." Tar'eon reached out and offered his hand to her, and she ignored it in favour of wrapping him up in a tight hug. He smiled softly and cradled the back of her head, petting soft dark hair as she breathed shakily against his shoulder.

"Zariel laughed. She'd wanted to test her new machine, and he said I'd be able to handle it. He was right, but-" She sucked in a sharp inhale and squeezed him tighter. "He can't get away with what he's done. To me, to us. He won't get away with it." She hissed the words, venomous, and Tar'eon held her through the simmering anger pulsating off her body in heatwaves.

"We'll figure it out, Karlach. Together." He promised and she sniffed before pulling back and giving him a wide smile. Trusting him to speak the truth.

"He'll get what's coming to him. I better hit the sack. I think somebody else would like to talk to you anyway." She looked back at Astarion who was picking at his nails, pretending to be nonchalant even if his shift in posture spoke of his awkwardness at stumbling upon the private conversation.

"Yes, well - you can't hog him all day. You have your own lover, my fiery friend."

"Indeed I do." Karlach grinned and looked back at Tar'eon. "Thanks for listening, soldier."

"Anytime." Tar'eon smiled back and watched her go, Astarion coming to stand by his side and looking out at the city. Thinking back on all the times he wandered it, shrouded in shadow. Tomorrow would be a new day, a day he'd be able to walk in and admire properly. Tar'eon waited for Astarion to speak, allowing his lover to collect his thoughts first.

"The Gate is close...as is Cazador." Tar'eon hummed, letting Astarion continue before he said anything. "Cazador and his Rite of Profane Ascension. An imperious soiree, attended by devils and spawns alike." He sounded bitter and coarse despite his cadence. "A grand ceremony to honour one exalted vampiric master, and elevate him to an unfathomable station." He looked at Tar'eon, ruby eyes dark.

"To place him in a position of such esteem...the world will yearn to kneel, and offer their necks." He sounded almost envious, but Tar'eon was not going to play into such delusions. Cazador needed to die and the ritual stopped, Astarion's fatal flaw of hunger for power be damned.

"Do you think we can beat him?" Tar'eon asked instead, and Astarion scoffed.

"We will kill him, but there's more to it. Think about it. It sounds like Cazador, for all his evils, has gotten further than any of my kind ever have. He's on the verge of a miracle." Astarion turned to rest his hip against the balcony, smirking. "This may be a beginning, not an end. I can see myself now. Lord...King...Master."

Tar'eon frowned.

"When the time comes, and if I can stay one move ahead of him, I'll take his place before his blood can hit the floor."

"And you'd kill to take that power from him? The others bound to the ritual be damned?" Tar'eon pursed his lips. "What of your siblings?"

Astarion barked a short laugh.

"Siblings? There isn't a lick of blood or love for them in me. What's a handful of the wretch's servants? If they're anything like me when I was enslaved, they're all but begging for death anyway." His smile fell. "After two hundred years of shit, pure shit!" He snarled before calming himself. "I think...I deserve something better."

"Freedom is not the same as power, Astar. Power will not guarantee your freedom either." Tar'eon reminded him, but Astarion rolled his eyes.

"All I'm saying is let's be clever about it. If an opportunity arises for me to become a more magnificent bastard than I already am, why turn it down?" Astarion reasoned, but Tar'eon only stared at him, not budging. "Let's find out more about the ritual before we waltz into Cazador's front door, okay? If we track down my old comrades - the other spawn - we may discover more...and be finely positioned for yours truly to ascend."

"I promise to help you stop Cazador. I won't promise anything else that could compromise my own morals, Astar."

"You have a tadpole and a murderous urge in your head, I doubt there's many morals you can uphold at this point." Astarion said haughtily, annoyed by Tar'eons constant refusal to indulge in the idea of being all powerful. Couldn't he see? This was all he had ever wanted. He would never have to fear another soul again - he'd be able to walk in the daylight with him long after the tadpole was gone. It would all be - perfect. He could even make them...eternal. Give them forever, instead of a measly hundred years.

Tar'eon clenched his jaw, eyes narrowing down at Astarion as he pushed off the stone and made his way towards the ladder.

"Oh come on, don't be so fragile." Astarion antagonised. He'd prefer a fight to Tar'eons silent treatment.

"I'm not walking away because you hurt my feelings. I'm walking away because I'm disappointed in you for stooping that low." Tar'eon said, voice calm and collected. Refusing to let him see any damage he may have inflicted with the verbal jab.

"I'm trying to be better than what's inside of me. I'm terrified for failing and losing myself, Astarion. And I'm terrified of you losing yourself. Of me losing you. This isn't just some advanced spell, it's a deal with Mephistopheles. A known trickster, even worse than Raphael and Mizora. You'd think after seeing what Wyll and Karlach had to endure, still endure, you'd realise how dangerous this truly is. You say you want to avoid dealing with the devil - but this is just as much a devils deal as Wyll's pact and Karlach's enslavement."

"Gods, I wouldn't be damning myself." Astarion scoffed. "It's the ones I'd be sacrificing that would be damned. And all that power? I could use it for the rights reasons. Against the elder brain." He tried to persuade.

"Don't take me for a fool, Astar." Tar'eon shook his head, looking away. He couldn't look at him right now. "I knew getting into this that you hungered for power. That it could damn well be the end of all of us, and you'd hesitate if it meant becoming all-powerful. I don't hold it against you, wanting to be stronger. But there is a difference between strength and power. I won't be discussing this with you again. When the time comes for you to make a decision, I just hope you make the right one."

Tar'eon made his way down the ladder and Astarion quickly came to the ledge, expression one of surprise, eyes wide.

"Are you- are you breaking up with me over this?" Tar'eon paused and sighed, hiking himself one bar higher so he could look up at Astarion properly, so Astarion could see his expression, not hidden within the shadows of the night.

"No. I still care for you, Astar. Even if you did go through with the ritual...I think I still would. My heart is entirely yours, but it hurts to see you talk so casually about something so...something with so many risks. Risks I'm not willing to take."

"So you'll simply shut me out then? Send me to the dog house and ignore me for a couple days until you feel like it?" Astarion sneered.

"No. I would never shut you out, Astar. I...I simply don't want to talk about the ritual anymore. I know I won't be able to change your mind, and it's exhausting trying to. So I'd rather we...put a pin in it. Or simply take my opinion out of the equation. Whatever you chose to do...All I hope is that you won't regret it."

Tar'eon made the rest of the way down and walked away, leaving Astarion with that. He was tired, and he needed rest. Whatever Astarion decided to do...it was no longer his problem. He'd love him regardless, but he'd prefer not to see the man he loved kill his 'family' in cold blood. Cazador, he could understand. The others? They were victims just as much as Astarion was in his books. Pawns of Cazador, and Astarion was turning his back on them, not allowing them the chance he'd been given.

"Tar'eon...?" Arabella's anxious expression drew him away from his frustration at hand and he smiled at her, letting out a sigh through his nose.

"Hey...How are you feeling? Nervous?" Travelling on her own, alone...Gods, Tar'eon didn't want to let her go, but he knew it was not his choice to make. Arabella seemed to be pretty convinced that she had to walk her own path, even if she seemed anxious to do so.

"More than I can put into words." She laughed, the attempt shaky as she wrung her hands. "Could I- could I stay by you tonight? I'm not used to sleeping alone..." Before, she'd shared a space with her parents, more often than not nestled between them, and then she'd had her own bed in the Inn, but she had shared her room with several other children. She would be lonely on the journey ahead, but she had to remind herself that she wouldn't be alone for long. Destiny would bring her back to Tar'eons side.

"Of course." Tar'eon smiled softly and drew her in close, a hand on loose auburn hair before he leaned down to kiss between her horns on instinct. "Go grab your bedroll. You can lay it beside mine." His own bedroll barely fit him, let alone her. She nodded quickly and ran off to grab her things. Tar'eon laid back on his bedroll and turned onto his side, making himself comfortable. He missed the inn already.

Arabella joined him shortly after he had laid down, rolling out her bedroll and even offering her small blanket to the man to share, but he shook his head. He was fine with the nights gentle chill. He ran hot. He tucked the blanket around her and rolled onto his back so she could rest her head on his chest.

"...Thank you. For everything. You've no idea what you've done for me." Arabella whispered, wrapping one arm around him. "I'm glad we met."

"Me too, 'Bella. Me too." Tar'eon tucked his nose into her hair, letting the scent of the forest calm his mind. He wished he could give her a proper home, a family, like she had before. He wished she didn't have to leave - but he could not keep her here. If she was to walk alone, if she was to follow the Weave's path...so be it.

Minutes, then hours, ticked by without sleep, even as his companions took to their tents and bedrolls. He sighed softly and rubbed Arabella's back idly, staring up at the stars above. He couldn't help by reminisce over his journey, especially the past few days.

Wyll had told them on the walk about his pact - the reason it began in the first place. To think, at only seventeen he gave up his soul just to save the city he loved. He couldn't imagine having such guts, such bravery, to hand over his soul to a devil. When Wyll posed the question to him of what he'd do if his home was under siege, he'd said he'd do anything. Sacrifice anything. But was he truly that selfless, or what he simply trying his best not to be the worst version of himself that lingered beneath the surface?

Would he sacrifice himself if it meant the Absolute would be gone? That the elder brain would die and leave them in peace? He wanted to say yes, but the Urge inside screamed no. Then again, he wasn't sure if it was the Urge, or the deepest, most selfish part of himself that refused, but he'd rather pawn the blame off.

He took out the artefact from his pocket and watched it glow for a moment. To think they could all become mind flayers in a moments notice, were it to disappear. Slaves to the Absolute, to the Chosen. Ketheric's stone still laid heavy in his armour, folded and off to the side. When he closed his eyes, he could see Orin's pale features, her white eyes. It stirred anger within him. So he let her image fade, thinking instead on Gortash. The man who sold Karlach to Zariel.

A true bastard. Yet, his heart fluttered when he thought back to his features, hair dark and five o'clock shadow closer to stubble, his eyes - what colour were they? Black? Blue? It had been hard to tell with the shadow that befell them when his brows furrowed. If he thought Astarion like the moon, then Gortash was the eclipse, swallowing up the light and casting the world in darkness as the sun burned, spurned, behind it.

He scowled. The man did not deserve his poetry. Perhaps they had known each other, before he lost his memories. He couldn't really remember. But he knew these feelings? They weren't his own. They were from another time, another person, another life. He refused to entertain them.

He thought back to the elder brain. The crown. Once the other two Chosen were gone, the creature would have nothing left to control it. It would be savage, it would extend its will and turn them all, wreck havoc on Baldur's Gate - on the whole world. And he would have all the stones in his possession, ready to stop it.

The only question was, what would he do with them once the time came? With the Urge so strong within him...would he even have a choice when given the chance to stop it? Or would the Urge demand blood? A whole city's worth of blood...

He had to find a way to curb his impulses. To eradicate them, before they faced the elder brain, if it was even possible.

He would not be the villain of this tale. He and his friend would be the heroes who saved Baldur's Gate.

****

How he was expected to sleep again after everything he'd just learnt...It felt like a cruel joke, watching the small white tadpole dancing in his palm.

He had stared at Orpheus' cage and done nothing. He, who vowed to free every person he could, could not do it. Rationally, he knew why he hadn't. It wasn't just himself on the line in that moment. If he had freed him - they all would have turned and become slaves to the Absolute, become true illithids. There would be no one to save Baldur's Gate if they perished. He had felt Orpheus' seething rage, and couldn't do it, knowing he'd be condemning all for the sake of one. He'd had to make his choice, but it didn't bode well with him.

And his guardian, his protector - it had all been a lie. He had used a form he found in his mind and took it on as his own, all to trick him into trusting him. Though, it made sense. He doubted he would have allied himself with the man if he had adorned purple skin and tentacles. He still felt foolish. He had been tricked by memories he couldn't even grasp, tricked by a pretty face he couldn't even remember the name of. All he knew was that he had killed him in the past, and that the Emperor had worn him like mask. He should have realised sooner, before he allowed himself to comfort the man in his dreams, to tell him all would be alright. To hear his woes and begin to trust him.

Would he ever stop feeling so foolish?

Perhaps once he had his memories back, it would all make sense. He wouldn't feel so- so lost all the time...

He wanted to know the truth. He was begging for someone to give him the plain, honest truth.

****

Tar'eon wasn't sure if he felt better or not after talking to Lae'zel about Orpheus. She seemed pretty against him, calling him a traitor and an illithid. She even insisted they kill him as soon as possible, but Tar'eon had been able to convince her to put a pin in that discussion until after they had dealt with the tadpoles. He wasn't exactly looking forward to the idea at all, but considering everything that was already on his mind? He was happy to put some of the less pressing issues into the box in the back of his brain and close the lid.

If he didn't, his whole head would turn white from the stress. Much like Shadowheart's new look. Though, it suited her a lot better than it would him. He assured her it looked lovely, and that they would find her parents - he really did want to reunite her with them. Even if he himself had no parents to remember, it was a nice thought, giving Shadowheart her family back.

With Karlach, Shadowheart and Astarion at his side, they departed from their camp. He'd been hoping to say goodbye to Arabella, but when he awoke, all trace of her was gone. All Withers had to say about it was that she was following her path. It seemed her departure to her path meant no time for goodbyes.

"What's that in your hair?" Karlach asked, picking up a single braided piece behind his ear, a stem woven into it and tied off with twine. He frowned. He hadn't even noticed it. He bent down in front of Astarion's vanity and turned. He had two of them. One behind each pointed ear, thin but decorated with bright green stems between the braids.

He smiled softly. He wondered how long he'd be able to keep them in for...hopefully until he saw her again. He didn't know how to braid his own hair, so he'd have to hope Arabella would teach him.

"You don't usually wear anything in your hair, so I'll admit, I was curious too." Shadowheart added to Karlach's observation.

"Yes, well, he doesn't exactly have time for maintenance when he's out slaying beasts." Astarion chuckled. "Still doesn't have the best hair in the camp though."

"We should get going." Tar'eon hummed. The sooner they left, the sooner they may find Arabella again, and Mol too. Gods, he missed Mol. He hoped she was alright. They were his girls in his heart. He wasn't sure he ever wanted children before he lost his memories, but now...he wanted it like nothing else. He wanted a family. Somewhere to...belong. Something to love unconditionally, something to protect, something to give him purpose outside bloodshed.

He looked at Astarion who was remarking on Shadowheart copying his 'iconic look' and smiled softly. Despite all his concerns, all the mans flaws...his heart was tied to his. No matter what happened, he'd love him without conditions. Protect him from Cazador, from everything he might fear. One day, when he finally put down his blade, his bloodlust, he wanted it to be in favour of taking the man into his arms and committing himself to the elf, and not a cause.

The future was far in the distance though, so he let those feelings fall to the back of his mind and shut the lid on the box tight.

****

The road was steep on the way to Rivington, and Shadowheart and Karlach were in their own little world, leaving Tar'eon to walk beside Astarion, offering his arm to the vampire when he half-stumbled. Astarion glowered at him before curling his fingers around his bicep.

"...Wyrm's Crossing is the welcome mat of Baldur's Gate." He finally said. "This is it. I'm almost home."

"You're worried. I can tell." Tar'eon could hear it in his voice. "Are you worried about Cazador finding out you're back?"

"I thought you didn't want to talk about it." Astarion deflected bitterly.

"I don't want to talk about the ascension. I would never deny you the chance to shit on Cazador." Tar'eon chuckled, and the vampire huffed.

"I won't lie, the thought of him finding out I'm back hardly fills me with glee. Even with my newfound advantages, he's still an incredibly powerful vampire." Astarion watched his feet as they walked, as not to stumble again. "But he's arrogant too. If he does hear I'm back, he'll try to take me and expose himself in the process. Then I'll be able to strike."

"I doubt he'll be alone." Tar'eon hummed.

"Neither will I, darling." Astarion looked at him from the corner of his eye. "At least, I hope you'll come along for the show?"

Tar'eon placed his hand on Astarion's and squeezed gently.

"I would never let you face him alone."

"Good...but regardless, the plan is simple - find him, stop him from gaining almighty power, and then really enjoy killing him." Astarion smirked. "And if I can seize that almighty power-?" He seemed to catch himself, pursing his lips. "Well...you know."

"I do." Tar'eon sighed softly but didn't let go of his hand until they'd made it onto smooth roads, Rivington before them. Astarion slipped his hand off his arm and stalked ahead, Tar'eon following. He only paused when a small child with shockingly orange hair pulling on the sleeve of his armour.

"Erm, 'scuse me...I can't find my mum." Tar'eon frowned as he bent down on one knee to level with the girl. He knew his height could be intimidating to some, and he didn't want her to fear him.

"I see. What's your name?"

"Yenna! And my cat is Grub." Yenna gestured to the cat and Tar'eon smiled. "He's shy. I'm not."

"I can tell." He chuckled.

"My mum is called Emery. She went to go get some herbs - for her spots. She was sick. And she was supposed to come back the same day...That was last tenday though." Tar'eons heart ached for the child. Another girl, orphaned by untimely circumstance. Gods, could anyone expect him to abandon her when she obviously alone, nobody to care for her?

"I see...you must be hungry. That's a long time to be on your own at your age." He reached into his pack and rifled through for some bread and berries, handing it to the girl.

"Oh wow! Thank you...Mum loves food like this. 'Simple is best', she always said." Yenna popped a berry in her mouth, unable to help herself. She was starved. "I'll - erm - I'll look for her. I think she'll probably come soon." She ate another berry and cleared her throat. "Thank you a lot."

"It's no problem, Yenna. Stay safe, okay?" They couldn't very well take her with them on their journey, not when it posed such a danger, but he'd come back around on the way back and check on her. See if by some miracle her mother returned...hopefully.

"I will!" Yenna ran off and Karlach sighed.

"Poor kid...There's plenty of them like that in the city."

"Oh yes, there's plenty of strays about. Baldur's Gate seems prestigious but even I know it is less than. You should see the slums."

"My pals and I grew up there, Astarion." Karlach rolled her eyes.

"Ah, that explains a lot." Astarion smirked when he said it and Karlach shoved him, not looking as mad as she probably should be. She could obviously see the jest in Astarion's body language.

Tar'eon shook his head fondly and led the way through the town, talking to locals, to Fists, and telling a rich prick to scram from his likely one of ten estates. The couple thanked him profusely for helping them, but it was truly no big deal to him. He could tell that the refugees were getting the short end of the stick around this place, and anyway he could help them, he would.

Plus, it gave him free rein to walk around and loot the rich asshole's place. One thing led to another, and he found himself in a cellar, disarming a ridiculous amount of traps. He pocketed each trap, seeing as they looked like they could do a fair amount of damage when thrown at a target. He hadn't been expect to find out the rich prick was putting explosives in toys though. Now he wished he'd simply killed him.

After some wandering, they stumbled upon a Smith. Tar'eon wasn't one to turn down a new weapon that would be suited to him specifically, any advantage was an advantage when it came to their mission.

"How will you know my perfect weapon?" Tar'eon asked curiously.

"I provide a personalised service for my customers. To make sure the weapon I choose is the perfect fit." Gyldro assured. "Tell me, how do you like to kill?"

Tar'eon frowned. Was that really important to figuring out what weapon suited him best?

"Uh...quickly and efficiently, preferably. I don't want anyone to suffer, even if they are my enemy." Very rarely did he take genuine pleasure in a kill. Not as himself, at least.

"Come - we're all friends here. No need to pretend you don't like to twist the knife." Gyldro laughed and Tar'eon stomach churned. "And when you kill someone, what do you feel?"

"I..." What did he feel when he killed someone? When they deserved it, he felt righteous. When they didn't, he felt mournful. Yet no matter what he always felt... "Powerful. Untouchable. Unstoppable." Once he began, it took everything in him to stop. When he slaughtered the goblin camp, it had been the most alive he'd ever felt. He had only hungered for more and more, and more came. He'd felt insatiable.

"Good answer. To kill is the closet thing to knowing the power of the gods themselves." Gyldro seemed to resonate with his answer, and Tar'eon wasn't sure if that made him feel better or worse. "One more question, if you'll humour me...Do you think you could turn your weapon on those closest to you?"

The answer was instant.

"Never. I do all I can to keep my loved ones safe from my blade." The day he killed one of his friends was the day he plunged a dagger into his heart, Urge's will be damned.

"You can't stop yourself any more than you can stop your blood pumping." Gyldro smirked. "You delay the inevitable."

Then there was a crack.

"Oh dear." Astarion looked disgusted as the body twisted and turned, bones snapping and flesh changing before their eyes.

"A fucking shapeshifter?" Karlach gaped.

"Orin." Shadowheart scowled. Tar'eon could only stare in disbelief, that primal rage threatening to overtake him. Something in him saw red when he saw the woman.

"Look at it, come crawling home, hands stained with the Bone Lord's soot. And you carry his stone." Tar'eons hand went to his pocket, like he feared she'd sneak her fingers into it and take it. He'd rather die before he gave the stone to her. Orin smirked. "Weak and soft and broken. Oh, sweet sibling, the world has dulled you."

Sibling?

"Or maybe I poked your mind matter too sharply." Tar'eons teeth creaked as he glared at her. Who did she think she was?

Mad laughter echoed in his head, and he took a moment to breathe. It was her. Her laughter, her madness, her pale figure - she was the one who took his memories. Who locked him in that pod. She knew everything. He wanted to wrap his hands around her throat and crush her windpipe, wanted to dig his claws into her skull and take back his memories for himself.

She had robbed him of the truth.

"I could end it now - but I'll be patient. Father will see us together again. He will see you bleed." In a burst of magic, she disappeared, and Tar'eon was left there, seething in his anger. His blood boiled, his skin burned, his companions reactions fell to deaf ears as they complained about a shapeshifter infiltrating their group.

"You! You have quite the gall to return after you knocked me out!" Gyldro, the real Gyldro shouted at Tar'eon, looking dirty and bruised. Tar'eon turned his gaze on him, eyes burning as he gripped his collar, dragging him to the rail of the building and shoving him against it, threatening to send him head first down.

"I was never here. Do you understand me? You hit your head pretty hard back there...it must have messed with your memories. You ought to be careful, or you might end up splitting your head wide open next time." He tipped him even further and the blacksmith put his hands up in surrender, fear in his eyes.

"Y-you're right! I must be misremembering it..."

"Good." Tar'eon pulled him back to his feet and let him go, blood still burning as he shoved past his companions. He needed something to kill. Something to sate the screaming Urge withing that rejoiced at the mention of this 'Father'.

Tar'eon couldn't wrap his head around it. Orin and him - there was no way they were siblings. For one, they looked nothing alike. Adoptive siblings perhaps? But who was this 'Father' she spoke of? Did they have a mother too?

Fuck. Fuck. He had a family. Maybe.

He might have a family.

He whisked himself away to camp in a flash of magic, leaving the other three behind. He couldn't deal with this right now.

[deadrlngers]

can you spare Violante/Gortash lore? (I will take literally ANYTHING)

holding your hand so gently rn as i type this, ily thanks for the ask!! i'm going to try and give the shortest (failed a bit, sorry) backstory lore dump here about what was going on between them and Vio's bestie before the game events since i never spoke of it

Violante is actually born and raised in waterdeep, she meets Gortash by pure chance during some big fancy event in baldur's gate where she's (forced) to attend by her mother. Ruven who's her drow bestie 4 life and death is there as well and the circumstances of their first meeting with Gortash is actually funny. He shows up fashionably late at the party, spots these two almost tearing each other throat out in a quarrel and decided to jump in just to make fun of them and how 'they truly let anyone in these days' (Vio is a fallen noble, Ruven a bastard of big house devir, they hold almost zero importance in the big picture of nobility and their power) but at the same time he has the balls to ask Vio on the first dance of the night, he does it to anger Ruven really and Vio accepts just to make Ruven's blood boil a lil bit. tear the drow apart girlies

they should've been just the amusement of the night, a stunt for fun, but Gortash ends up meeting them a few more times during Vio's stay in baldur's gate. thing is, they don't actually hold any importance to his eyes nor any plan, they are nobles he can't get anything from, yet he notices something about the dynamic between them (toxic, codependent, ready to hurt one another as a form of love, Vio follows Ruven like a lost puppy but still is the one to have him on a leash under her power) and he decides he finds them..entertaining and who cares after all? they aren't even baldurians so he could fuck around and hopefully not find out without any big repercussion since they would be gone for waterdeep sooner than later. Gortash rather cunningly enters the dynamic, he plays with the clear possessive obsession that Vio & Ruven have. Violante is indeed the weak spot so his attack is lead through her, Ruven is a great manipulator and just as cunning so he has this subtle hate for Gortash as he has it for Ruven (they hatefuck, thank u) while Vio just wants to see her drow bestie suffer and it's clear that she can achieve that if Gortash is involved BUT Ruven can't let her see he's actually bothered by her interest in Gortash or he'd let her win. Basically you have these three idiots using each other and fucking nasty while they are at it.

something none of them foresee is that they end up enjoying each other presence far more than what was planned, Violante in particular (since she basically lived closed in her manor most of her life bc of a very toxic mother) finds the new company a breath of fresh air and Gortash does enjoy having a quite stimulating conversationalist in Violante. But everything was going to end anyway, right? a short lived fling they all had fun with. Vio and Ruven go back to waterdeep and Gortash simply keeps living his life.

a few years later tho Violante and Gortash meet again in baldur's gate, this happens right after Vio killed Ruven (ops) and the shock of it all plus the power she achived by becoming a warlock, makes her flee waterdeep. she won't admit it but she actually wanted to meet Gortash, that's why she went to baldur's gate, in her mind he's what little connection she has left with her dead bestie. She tells him Ruven his dead and nothing more, Gortash is way too clever to not realise she's the one that killed him but he says nothing, he finds the event interesting..and maybe beneficial for his future plans (sick and twisted woman to use as a pawn but also..an unsettling feeling of.. happiness.. to have met her again). but this doesn't last as well, a few days later after she found some ahem ahem comfort in Gortash, she leaves without saying a word. they meet again during canon game events and i'm pretty sure i'm making her side with him but for that..i'm still planning and thinking hehe and truly i've talked WAY TOO MUCH NOW

[emmy-dekarios-bg3]

Heart of the Weave - A Baldurs Gate fanfiction - part 3

Chapter 11 - we need to save Rolan

I woke up the following morning to the sound of Karlach shouting “HELLO?!” outside our front door, which is more than enough to startle the hells out of me. Damn, it’s already morning? I turn to face Gale, who is smiling at me in admiration and gazing at me with his sleepy eyes.

“Are you ready to get this all over with?” he questions, and suddenly a sense of dread flows through my immortal veins. I inhale as I close my eyes, then exhale the tension built up inside me. We need to save Rolan. He needs our help. The thought of him losing his life because of me aches me in a way I can’t describe, and I wish they would’ve found another way to convince me to come.

“Yes. We need to leave. The quicker, the better. We can’t allow anything to happen to Rolan.” Part of me is wondering what would happen if Gortash does end up spotting us somehow, and what he would say to me. I’d at least want some sort of apology or explanation from him, not that I’d forgive the manipulative bastard. I don’t think I could ever forgive him.

“Alright, Jenevelle. Are you ready for your first adventure? Though…I feel very negative about the entire journey,” I mumble as I button up her onesie. “It will be alright. You’re here with momma and daddy, and we won’t let anyone touch you.” I pick her up and hold her close, burping her before placing her in her stroller.

“Tara, don’t cause any trouble around the house please,” Gale alerts her. “There will be consequences.”

“Why Gale, I’d never!” He opens up the front door, letting me out first before shutting it behind him. I inhale the morning air that smells of lemongrass and lavender, which tempts me to bake a pie; I’m guilty of spoiling Gale with my desserts. The soothing sound of the chimes above our door also helps keep me at ease, even just mildly. The refreshing area of Waterdeep makes it easy to forget that I’m about to go on an adventure with a mysterious outcome.

“I tried telling Karlach you guys have a baby, so you’d be taking your time. Unfortunately, she doesn’t quite understand that patience is a virtue,” Wyll teases. “I love her anyway.”

“Well, yeah. True. My husband calling me out like it means nothing, pssssht. Get a load of this guy. Anyway! How’s my favorite baby in the world? Sssh, Don’t tell Shadowheart and Astarion I said that.” She leans in to look at Jenevelle and plays with her tiny hands, causing our baby to smile with pure joy. Despite the horrors, looking at our baby smile does help; as long as she’s happy, I’ll be okay.

“We’re outside and that’s good enough for her. The glistening sun warming her baby skin, the sound of birds singing, the exquisite and various aromas of the forests,” Gale says, smiling down at Jenevelle.

“Ha! Can’t say I blame her,” Halsin responds, his face lighting up. “She has great taste.”

It’s rather early in the morning, so hopefully we can make it to Moonrise without having to camp, though we will need to make a few stops to eat and attend to our daughter’s needs. Off we go, strolling upon the road that will lead us to a fate we aren’t sure of, but hoping we save Rolan in the process. Today I’ll make a choice that will rid my life of the evil that’s been stuck to me like a parasite; at least it’s not a damn illithid tadpole.

I’m so on edge, believing Fanden has his bloodthirsty eyes on us wherever we go. As I imagine him, Gortash, and Ketheric, I feel an unusual tingling sensation within me that I’m not familiar with, almost like an urge or a strange power building up inside my body. Is this the same peculiar feeling Gale had when he released his power at the Bhaal temple?

It’s been so long since I’ve been adventuring, I almost forgot what it even felt like and it’s more strange as a druid. I love nature, but am I really dedicated enough to be a druid? Once this is all over, I may pursue my dreams as a bard and perform at the local circus. Hells, maybe play at a few restaurants around town.

After roughly five miles, we stop to eat and so I may feed Jenevelle, who is starting to become just a little fussy. I sit down on a nearby log to feed her a bottle while our friends get the campfire going for lunch.

“You know, on the bright side, I’ll get to destroy Gortash for the second time. Nothing like kicking someone’s ass and handing them a plate of karma, served by Karlach Cliffgate.” I’m honestly looking forward to her handing it straight with him, but hopefully Ketheric won’t be a huge problem.

As we sit down to eat, I feel yet again another unsettling presence, but can’t seem to locate it anywhere no matter how hard I try to investigate the area around us. Sigh. Karlach and Wyll sit across from me, while Halsin is out somewhere picking some fruits and vegetables to roast on the fire. Gale sits down next to me and gently takes Jenevelle from my arms.

“My love, go ahead and eat. I’ll change the baby and hold her while you do so,” he says ever so sweetly, being his wonderful and considerate self as usual.

“Also, mate, are you doing alright? You’re awfully quiet.” Karlach’s right; I really haven’t said much this entire time, but I was hoping no one would notice. I smile nervously, trying to mask my anxiousness but I don’t think anyone is buying it.

“Of course, I’m just ready for it all to be over.”

“And it will be soon enough. When it’s all done and in the past, we will all enjoy life again. We just have to stay positive and assume Gortash, Ketheric, and Fanden can’t come back from their graves,” Wyll assures me. “Didn’t one of them mention Orin couldn’t come back because she was much weaker after being resurrected? I’m sure that applies to Ketheric and Gortash as well.”

“I’m almost certain Bane and Myrkul won’t give those bastards a third chance. Fanden on the other hand, well, that’s uncertain,” I mutter. Gale sits back down next to me, holding our now happy baby who is fully fed, cleaned, and ready to party. I stare down at my sandwich and sigh, forcing myself to eat. “Also, I keep thinking Fanden has his eyes on us somehow; he is sneaky as hell after all. I could be overthinking it.”

“Now that you mention it, we probably should have some sort of backup plan in case all-else fails,” Halsin mentions, and boy I didn’t think of that. I lack in the intelligence department. He’s right. Should the situation arise that I do come face-to-face with my father, I need to make sure he stays the hell away from Jenevelle.

“Gale, my love –”

“Oh no, you aren’t thinking of confronting him if our plan fails, are you?” Worry stirs in his voice like a spoon with a cup of tea. “He wants your immortality and if he takes you, I’m not sure how far we’ll get. I’m not sure how we can save you. I can fight them, but Jenevelle would be with our mortal friends, and it just… It could end badly. They want either you or her. Or both.”

“Gale, honey, I need you to stay back with Jenevelle. I don’t want to say out loud what my plan is in case we’re being spied on, but…trust me. Please.” His dreary brown eyes are filled with fear, pleading that I don’t do anything rash. As I gaze into those eyes, I feel the intense power again continuously getting stronger, which could be our savior through this dire predicament.

[authorchase]

How Dare You, Illithid Scum

Very much of a rough draft because I just wrote this. I failed the Wisdom saving throw with that special tadpole, so the power was forced upon my Durge. Very spoiler heavy for Act 3 Durge with some of my own ideas in the mix.

Valdon opens his eyes to find himself back in the Astral Plane with the Emperor sitting in front of him. The sorcerer cannot help but to feel pure rage towards the illithid, as he has manipulated him so harshly. Disguising as Valdon’ very first kill, one of his foster mothers, angers and scares him to his core. Valdon feels like he wants to scream, but the Emperor looks back at him with surprise.

“Oh, I must have let my guard down. You were able to slip into this plane effortlessly it seems” Emperor sighs. The Emperor faces the trapped form of Orpheus once again. Valdon remembers Lae’zel’s abandonment of Vlaakith this very night, and feels he should help her fulfill her dreams, but how?

“Come, sit. Your company is surprising, but not unwelcome” Emperor beckons. Valdon feels anger surge through him again and feels he wants to surrender to his urges to tear the illithid apart. He can’t now however, with his life on the line to keep the Emperor alive.

“No, I will not you….you damn bastard” Valdon growls. The Emperor stands to look at Valdon in surprise, not seeming to know how to read the sorcerer. Valdon begins to shed tears as he thinks of the depiction of his foster mother the illithid conjured. The mangled scars on her face matched the wounds Valdon inflicted upon her. He will forever remember what he had done to her, and he regrets it immensely, he loved her as she loved him as her own son.

“Why? Why did you disguise yourself as my first killing so flawlessly? Why did you bring me this pain and force this unwanted power into me when I am so afraid of myself that I want to die? I’m already afraid of killing the one I love and now I am more powerful than ever!” Valdon wonders to the Emperor, finally admitting to himself that he loves Astarion, deeply. The Emperor has the audacity to look guilty as Valdon lets out his anger through his words. “I-” Emperor tries, but Valdon interrupts him.

“Is it because I helped Enver Gortash enslave you again? Is this some kind of twisted vengeance you wanted to enact upon me? That woman loved me like I was her own son, and I cannot stand thinking of her face after I killed her. How dare you, you illithid scum! How dare you do this to me after everything!” Valdon begins to shout. Suddenly, Valdon feels his eyes grow heavy as he falls to the rocky ground. The Emperor is above him as Valdon’s vision blurs.

“Be careful what you say, Valdon. I am your only way to salvation after all” Emperor warns as Valdon’s vision turns black. The sorcerer wakes in Astarion’s arms with the vampire carding his fingers through his hair. Valdon buries his head against Astarion’s chest as he feels betrayed by the illithid in the artifact who has been helping them all this time.

“It’s alright my dear. You have had a hard few days, I will wake you when dawn comes” Astarion comforts as he continues to play with Valdon’s hair. Valdon closes his eyes as he feels Astarion’s ministrations. He is able to sleep through the rest of the night without nightmares for once.