#jaheira coming in to tell them what's what is so on brand for her i love her always

[frankensteined]

we are literally one fight away from finishing the game and this is what they are chatting about

[blackjackkent]

Entharl, I am so sorry about all the dead doppelgangers in your basement.

So is he.

"What, by the Mordinsamman's curlies, went on down there!??!"

"Negotiations," Rakha says shortly, eliciting an involuntary strangled snort (albeit without much humor) from Jaheira.

"Bloody vigorous, were they?" Entharl snaps back, unamused. His eyes turn to Jaheira. "If your lot have cracked another bloody cask--"(*)

"They're dead, Entharl," Jaheira says quietly. "Doppelgangers were using them as bait."

Entharl's eyes widen and the anger falls out of his face at once in favor of appalled dismay. "Seems they snared more than they could skin in you," he says gruffly. A slight pause. "Did... Geraldus survive?"

"Alive," Jaheira confirms. "But a Harper no more." Her face twists, and she adds, slightly too sharply, "He's better off out of it."

(He was brand new, recruited only a few days before she left for Moonrise. So earnest. An idealist with a good sword arm, like many of the best Harpers she has known. He liked to hang around the shop in between assignments, talking to Entharl, helping clean up displays after the passing through of rowdy customers.

And he looked up to her; she knows he did. For her to tell him to go was a blow he will never forget. But she could do nothing else. Cruel as it is, she does not believe he would survive the war that is coming.

Just as she told him - why die a Harper, when he could live as anything else?)

Entharl nods. "Likely you're right," he says. "I'll tuck him up tight 'til I can ship him back to his mother." His forehead creases as his eyebrows knit; he looks from Jaheira to Rakha and the others with subtle concern that was masked by his earlier bluster. "What are you going to do?"

"Continue the hunt," she answers.

Entharl chuckles ruefully. "Aye. Silly question, I suppose."

-----

(*) This is actually a combination of the conversations you get if Jaheira isn't in the room and the conversation you get if she is. In-game they're actually mutually exclusive but I liked both of them so here we are. :P

[justmightyshadows]

The Three Lost Ones

Jaheira, Lae'zel and Minthara all yearn for the pieces of their home lost to them. I'm exploring how they dealt with/deal with that loss or how they feel about those places now or simply them in those places. These are all SFW.

This is from a prompt sent to me, enjoy! I made each one really different I think and may have gone off the rails a bit from the prompt, as is my way.

Lae’zel and Saamrel (Tav)

It was always after a hard fought battle that Lae’zel would look up into the sky as if she would hear the chants of victory coming from her childhood home and her people. Today felt different, she settled into the hot springs and sighed. “I would like to see it again.” Tav didn’t have to ask what she meant, ever since Vlaakith had turned against her, Lae’zel’s yearning for K’liir had only grown. Every time she sank her blade into another Githyanki’s heart it seemed as if a piece of her was there again.

“We can return, but it will not be a peaceful visit.” Saamrel says to her as they rub their aching shoulders into the water.

“It was not a peaceful upbringing, it would be foolish to be there and not be think their will be battles of all sorts. At least there my glory will be painted on the stone, at least there it will be a sign of my prowess.”

Saamrel let’s the silence settle over them, what Lae’zel seeks may be youth or freedom, it is almost certainly not that she yearns for the sight of her home but she will not know that until she has faced the past herself.

“Then we should show them what has become of Lae’zel of Creche K’liir and when we are done with the hard work of battle, will there be a hot springs?” Saamrel wanted nothing more than to relax after following Lae’zel into what felt like the hundredth battle of the week. She was a warlock not a warrior and keeping up with Lae'zel made them realize it more and more.

“Tchk, the springs here are minuscule and the water only heats sore muscles. On K’liir the water heals wounds as well, the minerals of the tears bind the flesh back together and leave it brand new.” Lae’zel looks at the misty water around them with disdain, as if staring at it hard enough would get it to do flesh mending on command.

Saamrel moves closer to her, resting their head on Lae’zel’s chest. Lae sits up to give them space and looks down with soft eyes at Saamrel. She wraps an arm around them and kisses their forehead lightly.

“It sounds exceptional Lae. Tell me more about this place - you’re selling me so far.” They close their eyes and listen to the soft hum of Lae’zel's voice.

“On K’liir we can sleep under the sea of stars spread out around us, the colors are beyond your imagination, trying to describe them would take far too long. The halls of the Creche are made from solid stone - carved by hand over many years. For that reason it is one of the most unique Creche locations in that we made it completely ourselves. The younglings born there are put through rigorous battle training and grow to be some of the strongest and most fearsome warriors in Vlaaki-” She goes quiet at the mention of her former Queen’s name. This had been happening less and less but the shock Lae’zel was going through still seemed to catch her in moments like these where she was caught up in the dreams of her past. Saamrel massaged the arm she had wrapped around them, slowly working their thumb into the tense muscles until Lae’zel continued.

“I guess I should say Orpheus’ army. I am not sure though if they know he has returned.” She held Saamrel gently in her arms and placed her head against theirs.

“Would that I could go there again, would you really join me?”

Her voice was soft and full of longing, longing for a world she had not yet created.

“I fear we must - Xan has already started to fall behind. He has yet to kill a beholder like you had at his age.” They say with a crack of a smile on their lips.

“Nonsense, Xan could never be such a failure. We must bring him there at once, he is proof of Orpheus’ return. He is free.” Lae’zel says shooting out of the water, her feet pattering against the stones of the bath house and going to get her things “We leave at first light.”

Jaheira and Thalwyn(Tav)

The sun spilled in small waterfalls of light upon the forest floor, as you and Jaheira work your way, on top of the branches of the old grove trees, into the darkened patches of the forest. Stalking. Your prey had made it’s way past the river trying to lose you in the bramble on the other side but Jaheira’s sense of smell had found its trail. You heard a crunch of leaves and freeze, your elf ears swivel to take in the surrounding area and then you see it, the powerful Buck that had been on a rampage this entire season. It stood near 10 feet tall with 2 feet extra of antlers adorned to its head. Silvanus had sent Jaheira out here just to fell it and she had brought you along, as a gift.

It made its way into the clearing as Jaheira silently leapt to the forest floor flattening herself into the shadows. You drew your bow as it bent its long neck to graze on the dew covered grass and with a mighty thunk - hit right between the ribs by its front leg. The deer let out a wounded cry but labored on, doubling back in confusion towards the forest, towards Jaheira. She leapt forward in her panther form and bit down on the back of its neck, but it continued on smashing into trees and bucking its hind legs. Only one option, you think and with blade extended you drop down upon its head, sinking your bladed into the thick layer of bone, ending its final rampage with a crash.

Jaheira stayed in wild shape, but became an owlbear to move the carcass back to the cottage you had set up together. It was a long walk but you stopped occasionally to pick mushrooms and flowers that you held up to her for her opinion. She gave a nod or shake depending on if she wanted to keep it. Near the base of a hill, within a small meadow you see your home - a negligible wooden structure with several gardens adorning the sides. You’d set up a small shrine in one of the sunny spots for Khalid, sometimes you’d see your lover stop and talk to it. Sometimes, you'd stop to talk to it yourself offering your thanks for his continued love.

In human form Jaheira took a moment to stretch towards the sky and turned to you “I think next time you can just aim for the head! You picked the most difficult shot, I'm starting to think you just enjoy the heroics.” She grabbed you by the waist and planted a kiss on your lips, smiling into your mouth as she did. Her body, never idle, went to break down the kill for yourself and any other animals and the like who may need food within the forest.

It had been 100 years since you left Baldur’s Gate and brought Jaheira here as a dying wish. You had brought your favorite bow and placed it in the heart of the forest as you called on Silvanus to protect her in this life and the next. At least that is what you told Jaheira, really, you had offered up your life, in perpetual service to Silvanus for a chance to spend more time with your beloved. The God of Nature was enraptured by your love and gifted you both with eternal life while within the bounds of the Dalelands as its stewards.

The sky opened up on your heads and you both ran quickly into the home. Jaheira waited for you to light the hearth and put the kettle on as she sat deep within the cushions strewn around the one room shack. She ran her fingers through her hair and enjoyed the moments without someone looking to her for the next thing to do or decision to make.

“How are you feeling, Jaheira, older than ever?” She laughed at your joke with a wry smile and noted

“I only have forever left now it seems.”

Minthara and Eurydice

Waking in Menzoberranzan was nothing like the surface world, the drow only meditated for a couple hours before rising, so, the excitement of waking was lost on them. Without the sun the days would blend together if not for the fanfare of dressing in the appropriate garb for the occasion.

A servant entered Minthara’s room and placed two outfits of elegant material along the chaise, one for her and one for her consort, Eurydice. When they awoke from their slumber they dressed promptly and feasted on mushrooms and wine underneath the iridescent light that permeated their room. As the head of House Baenre and the Queen Mother of the city of Menzoberranzan, Minthara had matters of state and diplomatic affairs to attend to for some hours each day.

“I will be back as soon as the affair of House DeVir has been taken care of.” She kissed Eurydice on the cheek and delighted in the blush that it elicited.

“You were right to pick up the pieces of that forgotten House and have them as our vassal- they have proved to be especially proficient at espionage. Viconia, brings the followers of Shar into the land which is good for the new face we are trying to build. Acceptance as long as there is obedience.” Eurydice nodded slightly and held tight to Minthara’s arm, her body pressed against her.

“Always on your guard my love. No matter how I adore Viconia she is still a challenger to our throne.” Minthara let out a sly grin -

“Oh, of that I am very aware my dear.” She said with a hint of malice. The doors to the room were opened for her as she left and the hallways were full of servants bowing low to the ground as she passed. Her office overlooked the interior of the diplomatic building and she watched as others mingled and discussed topics of state below her.

House DeVir will be awarded their ancestral home along with gold for 2 generations, at which point they must provide funds for their own wealth outside of House Baenre.

She looked over the last bit of the treatise and smiled - if after 2 generations they are penniless, which they will be, we can force them to continue as our vassals. She left the office, taking a couple of wide opulent corridors to the top floor where she stared out at the city. The glowing pillars of light that punctuated the landscape were like nothing that existed on the surface.

‘I am home’ she muttered to herself and calling a servant forward sent word to Eurydice to be prepared for visitors at the late meal. They needed to host the heads of two of the newer houses to make bonds before the coming vote of the parliament.

At home, the servants ran quietly through the marbled halls making sure arrangements were made for the guests. The great hall was adorned with ever-flame candles and flicker lights, the table set with gold goblets and plates and each chair was slightly warmed to keep the chill of the Underdark to a minimum.

The guests arrived on time and Eurydice took her place next to Minthara. Minthara led them in a toast, smiling broadly at her consort as she did, caressing the small of her back and then pulling her in close. It was over in an instant - Eurydice clutched at Minthara’s gold trimmed jacket forcefully as she dropped her cup. The wine splattered across the floor down the set of small steps that led to where they stood. She fell to her knees with Minthara clutching her shoulders in disbelief - the poison was overtaking her faster than she had ever seen such things happen before. Blood dripped from her ears and mouth as Minthara rest her down on the ground her body going numb and her eyes welling with tears. The guests did not react -standing still with small grins upon their faces as a dagger lodged itself into Minthara’s back.

She awoke with a jolt to find herself in the soft cushions of a bed. Her body was hot and she felt herself slick with sweat at the dream she had just had. Eurydice turned to her and looped an arm lazily over her body.

“Bad dream, my love?” She planted soft kisses on the arm and side closest to her before sitting up to pull Minthara’s face to her chest - caressing her head lightly.

“You are safe here. We are together, remember? We’re in Baldur’s Gate still.” The dreams had turned to nightmares as soon as Minthara had mentioned that they should return. Minthara curled into her tightly, pulling her legs over her lover's body.

“We should stay here.”Her voice was soft and lingered gently on Eurydice’s ears.

“So, we shall stay. We have conquered here and that is enough for now.” Minthara felt the heartbeat of her lover lull her into a peaceful state. She would have to ramp up the poison resistance of them both far more than she had already.

[svartalfhild]

For the angst prompt: “Don’t listen to them. Don’t you EVER listen to them.” Rasaad + Syrin, maybe featuring that whole Dark Moon mess? If you want to and if it's okay with you, of course. I love your blog, btw :)

Omg thank you!  Gosh, this is such a callback.  It’s been forever since I’ve written anything for Baldur’s Gate.  Too long.

- - -

Syrin knew what it was to doubt yourself, to be made to think everything you are is a lie.  She saw the same thing festering in the heart of the man she loved, eating away at him until all that was left was rage.  Granted, he did not have to fight to keep himself from transforming into the demonic representation of the God of Murder, but all the same, she could see him struggle everyday against an entropic poison in his soul.  He called it vengefulness, but she could see it for what it truly was.  Shar’s dark hand had reached down from the heavens and pulled at the thread of Rasaad’s spirit.  The more she pulled, the more unraveled the tapestry of his life became.

He had given up nearly everything now in the name of revenge.  His home.  His order.  Syrin’s love.  She had even begun to fear that he was on the verge of abandoning their friendship altogether.  But as much pain as all of this brought her, she refused to turn her back on him.  She would not let him fall to the darkness.  She would continue to love him.

It was with this in mind that Syrin put her foot down one night as she watched Rasaad brood by the campfire.  She could tell by the way he absently fiddled with the symbol of Selûne around his neck that he was thinking about how he had been branded a traitor by his own order.

“You’re innocent, Rasaad,” she told him, sitting down on a log beside him.  He did not look up at her, but the scowl on his dusky tattooed features deepened.

“It does not matter.  My order refuses to see the truth.  The order was my whole world.  What do I have left if I do not have them?”

“No matter what they may say to you of betrayal, don’t listen to them.  Don’t you ever listen to them.  You have me.  And Imoen.  And Jaheira.  And all of our other friends.  You are not alone.  You are not a betrayer.”  Syrin had to admit that she was a little hurt that he had so easily forgotten this, but she understood what was happening to him.  She knew all too well how walls of darkness closing in on you can make you forget everything but the hollow feeling it leaves in your chest.

“I am truly grateful for the kindness and friendship you have all shown me, though I’ve done little to deserve it, but you are not the same as the Sun Soul.  The order raised me.  They are my family.  And I have failed them.  I do not expect you to understand.”  At this, Syrin came to kneel down directly in front of Rasaad and reached up to put her hand under his chin and raise his gaze to meet hers.

“I know exactly how it feels to lose everything, to never be able to go home, to be torn away from everything and everyone I love because of a darkness I can’t control, to be cast out as the very evil I seek to eradicate,” Syrin responded passionately, not breaking eye contact for even a second, looking for some sign in her former lover’s brown gaze that she was getting through to him, but he looked away in shame.

“I am sorry, Syrin.  Here I am too wrapped up in my own pain to remember what you’ve suffered.”

“I forgive you.  I know you won’t forgive yourself.  You never do.  About anything.  But I want you to know that you can and you should.”  With this, Syrin brushed her thumb along Rasaad’s jaw one last time and then let her hand fall away.  He hung his head and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs.

“How can I?”  He raised his eyes to look at her again from beneath his heavy brow, their faces now inches apart.

“By remembering that even if your order cannot see the truth, Selûne can.  She has not abandoned you, nor will she, as long as you keep her in your heart.”  As she said this, Syrin placed her hand over Rasaad’s heart.  The moment her fingers touched the bare skin of his chest, he drew in a small gasp.

“Syrin…” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave.  He leaned even closer to her, but she did not move away.  “How…how can you be so sure?”

“I see it everyday in the holy fire you bring to battle,” she whispered back, holding Rasaad’s gaze.  A tense beat of silence passed between them before he closed their remaining distance to press his lips to hers with all the desperation of a man who had been denying himself this for months.  It was like the opening of a floodgate and Syrin eagerly drank it all in.  But it was over as quickly as it had begun.  Rasaad drew away from her sharply, practically stumbling backwards as he stood up to get away from her.

“I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry.  I should not have done that.  Please forgive me.  It…it won’t happen again,” he babbled in apology before turning and briskly walking away from the campsite.

“Rasaad!” Syrin called after him.  “Rasaad, where are you going?”

“To gather firewood,” he called back, his voice cracking.  These words were the only assurance she had that he would come back, for she feared that he was now more lost to her than ever.