#like....they had a druid as their healer and no one thought to ask if he could teach them???? sounds fake

[scratchandfriends]

In Need of a Healer (+18)

Pairing: Halsin x Female Tav

WC: 2200

Summary: You accidentally mix up your mushrooms when trying to make a potion and it goes horribly wrong. Or... not so horribly, in the grand scheme of things?

Content Warnings: SMUT! Huuuge breeding kink, aphrodisiac situation, no bear :( big dick Halsin, unprotected sex, a smidge of dirty talk, maybe a little pregnancy kink Halsin at the end but who knows hes 400 years old, creampies.

— — 

Halsin sat under the pallid moonlight, back against the outside of his tent, humming contentedly as he whittled yet another small duck. A little smile decorated his chiseled face as he marveled at the way his craft looked in the pale starlight. The only thing he could hear was his own humming, the soft scrape of his knife against the wooden duck, and the soft chirping of crickets in the tall grass surrounding the camp. 

The peaceful sounds of a night at camp were eventually broken by hurried footsteps heading quickly towards his tent. 

Tav rounded the large tree that Halsin had set up his tent next to and was breathing heavily. She quickly came to a stop and let out a long sigh. 

“Oh, thank the gods you’re still up!” 

“Ah, Tav. A pleasure to see you on this beautiful night. How are you?” He looked up at her panting form and smiled. She seemed distraught and uncomfortable. 

“Been better actually.. but, um, how are..  you?” She asks, trying desperately to be polite but Halsin could tell there was something wrong. “I like your duck. Is that a new one?” Tav says between heavy breaths, like she had just run several miles. 

“Yes, it’s a canvasback duck. Very interesting species as it lives in both fresh and salt waters.” Halsin explains as he holds up his whittled figuring. 

“Right yes. Very cool.” Tav hurriedly spits out. 

“I can tell you aren’t here to discuss my hobbies, Tav. You seem… a bit perturbed. Anything I can help with?” Halsin asks. 

“Gods, yes. Or at least I hope… Can we talk… inside your tent?” Tav says as she turns her head around briefly, looking at the last light of the fire and wondering if anyone else was still up and about. “It’s… kind of embarrassing…” 

“Of course.” Halsin rises to his feet to hold the curtain of his tent open for her to enter ahead of him. She quickly ducks inside. 

Halsin gestures for her to sit on his makeshift mattress as he sits down on the stool at his desk littered with herbs and potions. 

“What’s ailing you? Your face seems flushed. Do you feel feverish at all?” Halsin says as he gets a better look at Tav, seated on his bedroll with their legs crossed, illuminated by the candlelight. 

Tav sighs. She looks down at her hands in her lap and wrings them uncomfortably. 

“Yes! I’m so warm!” Tav exclaims. “Okay so… I wanted to convince these squirrels to put on these little hats and ride on Scratch like a pony because I thought it would be cute, but I realized I was out of animal speech potions and I was trying to whip one up but I realized I used the wrong herb…. But Astarion said it would be fine! He gave the mushrooms to me after all!” 

Halsin chuckled. 

“A noble endeavor indeed. I would like to have seen that.” 

“And so the elixir looked fine, but I drank it and now I… I don’t feel so good…” Tav says quietly, but Halsin could hear the fear and worry in her voice. 

“Hmm… I see. Other than the flush and fever, do you have any other symptoms?” The druid asks, looking her over. 

“Well my skin, it has chicken-skin all over that won’t go away… and I can’t stop sweating… and well… there’s this painful ache…” She trails off. “Can I just show you?”

“Please do.” Halsin nods. 

Without warning, Tav strips her clothes off leaving her just in her underthings. She settles back on the bedroll and spreads her legs shyly. Once her knees were parted, it was very obvious to Halsin what the ache she was describing was. The gusset of her cloth panties showed a drenched patch covering her sex, the wet fabric sticking desperately to her meaty outer lips. 

“Aahh…” Halsin mused as he looked over Tav’s trembling body. “My assumptions were correct, it seems.”

“Your assumptions? And what were those, exactly? Speak plainly, will I survive?” Tav sits up on her elbows and presses her knees together again. 

“You must have used black mushrooms instead of acorn truffles. Similar in appearance, but very different in alchemical composition.” Halsin states as he flips through one of the books littering his desk. “I smelled your pheromones before you even appeared in front of my tent. Instead of the potion of animal speaking, you drank a potion of animal breeding.” 

“I bed your finest pardon? Shit, I mean beg! I beg your finest pardon?!” Tav becomes increasingly irritated and frustrated by the druid’s casual manner of speaking. 

“Yes, commonly used by ranch hands in order to increase the offspring output of their flocks, it drastically increases the heat cycle in mammals. I’ve never seen or heard of the effects of it on humans, but it seems it works the same.” Halsin replies, standing from the stool at his desk and approaching his bedroll where Tav laid. 

“So? Is there a cure, an antidote of some kind?” Tav pants. 

“Not that I know of. I know the effects subside once the animal has been mated, but I can’t say for certain how to dissolve the effects in a humanoid creature.” 

Tav groans and reaches her hand between her clenched thighs, clearly too far gone from the effects of the potion to care about modesty. Halsin sees her wrist flick desperately, but there was no relief on her face… he can’t help but find himself growing erect at the sight of her barely covered, sweaty body writhing in his bed. 

“You’re in pain… there might be a way I can help…” Halsin says softly, his eyes searching Tav’s pleading ones. 

“Anything. Help me, please.” Tav huffs out through gritted teeth. 

“I can… try to alleviate the pain through the intended means… If you’ll allow it.” Halsin’s eyes dart from Tav’s gaze to her hard nipples peaking through her bra and back to her face again. 

“You mean.. you’d fuck me? You think it would work?” 

“I can’t guarantee it, but I’m happy to give it a try.” Halsin replies with a soft smile. 

Tav thinks for a moment before sitting up fully and ripping her bra over her head and tossing it to the floor of Halsin’s tent. 

“Gods yes, I’ll do anything.” Tav shimmies her panties down her legs and throws them to join her discarded bra. “Do you need me to, you know… touch you a bit? To get things going?” She says sheepishly. 

“Hah, no..” Halsin chuckles. “Seeing you in my bed like this has made me harder than I’m keen to admit. Let me just…” 

Halsin takes a few moments to remove all his clothing. Once he was stripped bare, thick cock standing at attention, he turned back towards Tav and was met with quite the sight. 

Tav had shifted to her knees, face pressed into Halsin’s pillow with her ass arched high in the air in Halsin’s direction. He was met with her puffy, glistening folds being presented so desperately just for him. Slick drooled out like sap from a mighty maple tree, slowly seeping from Tav’s hole and coating her lips and thighs. He could see her engorged, pink clit peaking out from the apex of her slit, just aching to be touched. 

“Oak Father preserve me…” He says quietly, more to himself than anyone else. “What an incredible sight…” 

“Halsiiiinnnn…. Will you hurry uuuup?” Tav whined and wiggled her backside in the druid’s direction, beckoning him to enter her. 

“Right, of course. You will tell me if there’s any discomfort, yes?” He asks. 

“Yes fine yes, just fuck me.” Tav glares at him from her position pressed into the pillow. 

“As you wish…” Halsin takes his position behind Tav and guides the leaking tip of his cock to her entrance. “Bit of a stretch now, love…” Halsin coos as he pushes his hips into hers. 

“Aaaggh! Ah! Fuck!” Tav cries out and turns her head to bite down on his pillow. 

Halsin feels a gush of warmth on his pelvis and notices the hard squeeze of Tav’s cunt as his tip presses against her cervix deep within her. She had climaxed just from him bottoming out inside her. 

“Already?” Halsin chuckles again. “Do you feel better? Should I stop?” He runs a soothing hand down her spine. 

“Aahh!” Tav moans and pushes back on her knees, forcing him impossibly deeper. “More! Need more!” 

“The potion is stronger than I thought… very well… Hold on to something, dear.” Halsin warns as he wraps his large hands around Tav’s milky hips. He begins thrusting into her hard and with great purpose. Normally he would have to take time to prep his smaller partners, but the effects of the elixir had caused Tav’s body to accept his intrusion hungrily. “So warm… like nothing I’ve ever felt…” Halsin groans as he feels the impossible heat from Tav’s walls pulse around him sensually. 

“Harder! More!” Tav grits out, brow furrowed, fists clenched in Halsin’s sheets. 

Halsin mounts her fully, hunching his back over her to press his chest against her spine. His grip on her hips tightens as he humps into her harder. 

“Yes! Fuck! I-I’m cu-!“ Tav yelps out. “Ah!” 

Halsin feels her cunt clench on him hard again, the familiar spray of liquid a welcome feeling trickling down his thick thighs. After two orgasms, Halsin assumed she would finally be free of the potion’s effects. He pulls out of her and picks her shaking body up and positions her back down on his bed on her back. 

“Better now?” He smiles down at her. 

He was met with an even deeper look of desperation. 

“No. Need more!” Tav gasps out as she locks her arms behind his back. Without warning, Halsin was tossed on his back on the bed and Tav was hovering above him. She grips his dripping cock and lines it up to her sex, sinking down on it quickly. 

“Shiiiit yes…” Tav moans out and throws her head back in pleasure. She begins rocking hard against him, grinding her clit against his pelvis to stimulate all her senses. “Fuuuuck…”

“My darling…” Halsin says hesitantly as he places his gentle hands on her breasts, softly toying with her nipples. “Don’t hurt yourself…” 

“Fill me, Halsin, please!” She cries out loudly. “Breed me, Halsin. I need it!” She slams her hips down onto his impossibly fast. 

An animalistic, bear-like growl leaves Halsin’s lips. 

“You can’t say things like that, little dove.” He grits his teeth, trying to hold back from absolutely ravishing her body. 

“But please! I want you to fill me, need you to fill me! Put your fucking babies into me, Halsin, please!” Tav looks down finally and makes eye contact with the large elf. There was a wild, fiery heat glowing in her eyes. Who was he to deny her?

Halsin plants his feet on his bedroll and growls louder, his large hands moving to her waist. 

"Halsin, Halsin, Halsin!" Tav spills his name like an invocation as she bounces violently on his cock. "Breed me, please, Halsin!"

He uses this newfound leverage to slam his hips up into hers at a brutal pace, lost in the fantasy of filling her up with his seed. How gorgeous she would look swollen and heavy with his young… breasts plump with sweet milk...

“Yes! Yes!” Tav chants towards the sky as a cock-drunk grin spreads across her face. 

“I’ll give you what you need, love… stay still now… shit…” Halsin’s grip on Tav was sure to leave bruises in the morning. Tav was moaning loudly, clearly too far gone in her state to care about anyone else in camp hearing her. “I’m going to fill you now, be good and take it…” He grits out the last bit. 

Tav shrieks as she feels the first wave of hot spend fill her insides. Rope after rope of Halsin’s seed stuffed her to the brim, the druid grunting and panting beneath her, pushing her hips down on his so his tip kissed her cervix directly. 

Halsin breathes heavily as his orgasm abates and leaves Tav finally satisfied. 

“Woah…” Tav dizzily leans forward and collapses against Halsin’s broad chest. 

The pair laid in silence for several minutes catching their breaths. 

“Here, I’m going to lay you down now. I’ll make you some tea.” Halsin says as he lifts Tav off his softening cock and tucks her into his comforter. “Make sure you drink it before tomorrow.” 

“Mhmmmmph.” Tav snuggles tiredly into his mussed sheets, the effects of the potion finally dissipating now that she was stuffed full like a broodmare. She looked too serene in his bed, he couldn’t care less about the large mess she was no doubt leaking onto his mattress. 

So what if she didn’t drink the tea tonight… maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea…

Halsin would have to thank Astarion tomorrow. 

[autistichalsin]

Do you have hcs of halsin's parents' and/or siblings' names? Or at least some hcs about them like their class or occupation/work or deities they believe or anything else?

Names: not yet, because I am not great at names, especially elven ones, and I headcanon Halsin with a big family (unusually large for elves, which becomes relevant later in the timeline I made for him and my Dark Urge, Kiaran) which means LOTS of people to name.

Class/occupation/etc: YES.

So my basic thoughts on Halsin's family, keeping in mind that John Corcoran (Halsin's writer) said that Halsin was the youngest son (which of course means little sisters are still possible):

His father (who we know from a comment Halsin made looks a lot like him) was a Bard. (Why? Partly because it's unexpected, partly because because that would be part of where Halsin gets his love of telling stories from). He worshipped Corellon.

His mother was a Ranger who semi-retired when she had his older siblings. There was quite a gap between Halsin's closest older sibling and Halsin, and when Halsin was born, she fully retired. As you might expect for a Ranger, she primarily worshipped Mielikki.

Halsin's oldest brother was a Cleric of Corellon. Halsin didn't get to see him very much, but they loved each other a lot.

His oldest sister was a healer (haven't decided yet if she was a Cleric or a Druid, though I'm leaning towards Cleric.) She settled into a different elven community when she married her wife. She helped encourage Halsin's interest in healing.

His next oldest siblings were twins, brother and sister. They were both Rangers, and he was the closest to them of any of his siblings. Halsin definitely spent a significant part of his childhood planning to become a Ranger so he could have adventures with them (even though his mom always said he'd decide on a Druid eventually, and was of course right.) They both worshipped Mielikki. The brother had a wolf companion, and the sister had a hawk.

Halsin's younger sisters never really had a chance to pick a patron deity- none of them made it to their teenage years. :( Halsin adored them and totally had a "mother hen" way of taking care of them because he was just so excited he finally got to be a big sibling. They loved the stories he'd tell them every night (which is another part of why he loves, in the post-canon timeline, telling his orphans stories so much- it reminds him of those days).

I'll come up with names for everyone eventually, it just requires a bit of a lore deep dive to find both a fitting name for them in Elvish AND to make sure I'm not giving them the Elven equivalent of "Jane Doe" as a name LOL

Thank you so much for this ask!!

[theshotsheardacrossworlds]

Homesick

Frustrated by the lack of any solution to her not so little tadpole problem, Selene Longsong receives comfort from an unexpected source---Rolan. SFW.

Selene Longsong yelled, tears streaming down her pale red cheeks and tail wagging behind her. She then picked up yet another rock and threw it into the water. After a truly depressing dinner with her companions, she explained that she needed some time alone to “process everything.”

Process.

Process that so far, we’ve found no cure. That Nettie had a bloody branch coated in a lethal toxin in case I didn’t tell her everything.

WHICH I DID BECAUSE I THOUGHT HEALERS ARE SUPPOSED TO HEAL. FUCK ME, I GUESS!

“FUCK!”

“A good evening to you too.”

WHAT?!?!?

Selene turned suddenly around to see quite possibly the last person I expected to see. “Rolan.” She sniffled, wiping her eyes. “I, um, didn’t hear you coming.”

He rolled his eyes. “Well, it must be hard to hear among the screaming and splashes.” Any bravado and humor he might have had disappeared as he observed her. “Are you alright?”

He looks worried.

Can I trust him?

Should I trust him?

Or will he—

He tentatively stepped towards her, holding out one of his hands. “If I might be of any service, my friend, then please—”

Her lower lip quivered as more tears fell. “Rolan…I just want to go home…”

“I know, my dear. I know.”

Between his sad smile, tender tone, and kind eyes, Selene allowed herself to let go for the first time since she was abducted and began to weep. Rolan immediately took her hand, and with his other arm around her thick waist, he led her to a nearby bench. “There, there. There, there. Why don’t we sit down?” He murmured softly, and she felt herself practically melting in his hold.

After they settled on the bench, I’m not letting go of his hand. Feels too nice. And he smells nice. “I’m sorry. I…” Sorry, it’s been a shit in a shit week. “I just want to go home…”

Home.

Mum and Dad.

My cat.

My friends.

Brownies.

Where there’s no tadpoles or racist druids or cults…

“You said home is Baldur’s Gate, did you not?” He asked as he squeezed her hand. “Do you have family there?”

She nodded. “My parents. Mum’s a cook at Wildheart Manor. Dad runs his gran’s bakery, where I work in between adventuring jobs.” Finally stopped crying. Thank gods. “Though he wasn’t always a baker.” She smiled and squeezed his hand. “He was a pirate when he was a young man. Mum was a barmaid at the Elfsong Tavern. But when they found out they were having me,” What a fucking surprise that was, according to Mum. “Mum got the job at Wildheart Manor, and Dad decided to help his gran and the bakery. And now I do too.” As much as I love being a barbarian…being an adventurer…protecting people…I don’t know. Mum and Dad are getting older. I should…I wish…No. Best not to speak of this in front of a very handsome man.

There was a kindness in his yellow eyes that she swooned over on the inside. I’m not making a fool of out of myself…not in front of him…oh gods. “You’re close with your family. That’s admirable. Wonderful, even.” Rolan chuckled nervously. “Lia and Cal annoy the hells out of me sometimes, but I don’t know what my life would like without them.” He glanced at her quickly, cheeks flushed. “Your parents must be very proud of you.”

“From the day I was born, they’ve been proud. Wanna hear something wild?” Haha get it, I’m a wild magic barbarian. Please laugh. Oh thank fuck, he laughed! “My parents are human—”

Rolan’s eyes widened. “Y-you mean, you were born to human parents or were you adopted?”

Uh oh, maybe I should keep my mouth shut. He looks even more nervous. Shit.

She released his hand and fidgeted slightly. “Yeah, born to them. Um, if this makes you uncomfortable…” Maybe he thinks I’m a freak?

He reached for her hand again. “My apologies. It’s not that I’m uncomfortable. Far from it.” THANK GOODNESS. “It’s just…erm, I’ve never heard of a tiefling born to human parents who actually…kept the baby. You’re the first.” He shook his head, then met her gaze, smiling politely. “But please continue. I want to hear where this story is headed, as it were.” Rolan, you’re such a fucking dork and I love it.

Selene grinned. “So, when I was born, the midwife tried to tell Mum and Dad I could be ‘removed’ or some shit. Do you want to know what they did?” Upon hearing him hum in assent, she continued. “Mum clutched me and said, ‘If you try to take my baby, I’ll fucking kill you.’ Dad apparently was ready to enter a rage and was looking for something blunt to knock out the midwife if necessary.”

He barked a laugh. “Goodness me, your parents do love you very much. Yes, yes…” Stop being so nervous, Rolan. Do I make him nervous? Shit. “You’re very lucky, you know.”

Yes.

Yes, I am.

And I miss them so much.

Okay, before I start crying again, I need to change the subject.

“I’m also very lucky because I have a cat.” Selene giggled. “His name is Mortimer, and he’s my baby.”

Rolan snorted. “Mortimer?”

“Mortimer. I found him when he was a kitten…”

Selene did not know how long she and Rolan sat and talked, nor did she care, only admitting the passage of time when he stifled a yawn.

“Forgive me, I think the hour is now quite late.” He said with a rueful smile. “May I walk you back to your camp, my dear? You never know what lurks in the shadows.” Rising, he offered his hand, which she took with a warm smile.

Rolan, I’m a barbarian.

She shook her head and stood. “No, I’ll be fine. Thanks for tonight. For listening. For being a friend. Thank you.”

Her bright blue demonic eyes stared into his yellow ones.

Should I?

I SHOULD!

Heart pounding in her chest, she quickly kissed his cheek, wished him a good night, and turned to return to her camp, giggling like a giddy schoolgirl.

Rolan stood frozen for several moments before he lifted a hand to where she had kissed him.

“Good gods, she’s going to be the death of me.”

[inhurtandincomfort]

Hi! This ask is an excuse to ramble about your OCs! Eldwin sounds especially cool. How did he get into sorcery? Did he know his life would end up like this?

-- @violets-whumperflies

Thank you so much for asking! But you have no idea what you've unleashed lol. I certainly will ramble, but it is relevant I swear! I'm sorry for the slow reply, I'm sick rn and very tired, (in whumptober month smh) but excited to answer and I hope this all makes sense! It is rather long so I apologise, once I get into it it's hard to know when to stop lol

Eldwin grew up in a rural village where there was little to do - even the school was just a local church and dame school that occupied only a few hours a week, primarily teaching reading, writing, and religion. When he wasn't helping his parents with chores, he was doing one of two things; either reading or exploring the nearby forest, an old and mystical woodland said to have once been the place to many powerful rituals and wandering druids, long before the academia. His first real introduction to sorcery outside of storybooks was when a Priestess passed though their village on her way to a temple. Moments before her arrival one of the children had fallen from a tall tree and broken his leg, badly enough that he may never walk normally again. She stopped to help him, and with her power was able to set the bone straight and put it on course for healing properly. Healing is the most accepted form of magic as it divine in nature; it's less the users own power, and more them channelling a fraction of the gods power. It will not heal 100%, but it is a great improvement to serious and life threatening injuries, speeds up the healing process and is still a marvel to behold. Naturally, Healers are often sought after but very few can actually perform it well. The Priestess, despite her chaperones ushering her along, insisted on helping everyone in the village who asked; She soothed an old womans hip pain and cast a blessing upon a young girl with nightmares, and many more minor ailments. Eldwin watched this all with fascination and wished he could do that - wouldn't it be a wonderful thing, to be able to help people in such a meaningful way? He mentioned as much to his mother and she just played along - after all Eldwin was very young, not even in double digits and sure enough it seemed he soon forgot all about it. 

Some years later he was exploring one day with his only friend, maybe 11-12 years old, not much more, when they stumbled across a cave. His friend was afraid to go in, claiming to sense something dark, something that didn't want him to enter... so Eldwin entered the cave alone, and found a book. Not some ancient text nor a thousand year old tome detailing powerful secrets, no, just a regular book not unlike the ones he had at home. It seemed nothing special; a little old, a little damp, but by all accounts a normal, children's storybook, that followed the tales of Dhirin the Great, a mythical sorcerer said to be strong enough to take down gods. It was perhaps an unusual thing to find in a cave, but for some reason, Eldwin thought nothing of it. And when he returned, he told his friend that he'd found nothing inside as the book lay forgotten in his bag. 

Shortly after Eldwin fell ill, an affliction that seemed to come out of nowhere. He was restless and feverish, tossing and turning at night muttering in his sleep. This illness alone may not be so strange and indeed the local doctor didn't think it was anything mysterious. Even Eldwin, recovered after a few weeks, did not think anything of it. But he did not remember the events that had taken place prior. He did not remember the cave, and he did not remember what he found within.

If you had asked Eldwin back then, when he was still bright eyed and full of adventurous sprit, why he'd taken up sorcery - he'd tell you he felt a call, something pulling him towards it. Like it was something he was meant to do. Now though, he'd say it was just childish fancy. Regardless of the truth, he began to practice, studying fiction and historical records alike. It was difficult, it seemed unreasonable, and it took a very long time, but finally he was able to create some semblance of magic. Only very simple spells; summon light in his palm, blow some leaves in a tiny gust of wind, but it was magic nonetheless. He was elated. He'd finally found something he liked, something he was good at - but he knew it had to be kept secret. 

Magic is highly illegal to use unless you have the right education. That education comes in the form of The Academia, basically a nation-wide mages guild that is under government control. The magic schools are VERY expensive, only the wealthiest people can attend. Basically their way of keeping magic out of the hands of the common-folk, without actually saying so. And once enrolled in an academy, you pledge your life to your country, king and government. Sorcerers will spend their lives serving their country - some serve via the military, others devote their lives to the continuous study and advancement of magic or join the temples, and others still will be "rented out" for various jobs - typically as a nobles personal mage, or they may be called on to assist with various things. All of this is with government permission. Upon enrollment mages will receive the Mark - a magical brand that serves as a tracker. Not only could Eldwin certainly not afford to go, he didn't want to anyway - he refused to be bound by such strict rules. What kind of life is that, living to serve another, who reaped the benefits while you did all the work?

But it was almost inevitable he would be found out, and that set off a whole chain of events: A once calm and loving household now turned tense and hostile, his parents fighting, his father falling dangerously ill to what Eldwin believes to be a stress-induced illness... And the only cure being in the form of a demonic pact, yay! Fun stuff. 

For your other question, it's hard to say. He knew being a free mage would be risky. He knew, from the moment he made a pact, his life would become a whole lot harder. He also knows the fate the awaits him after death - an eternity of servitude, where he'll become an empty husk for the Abyssal Lord to use as he sees fit, and not a shred of humanity will remain. I don't think he ever expected that same fate in his life, however. As he grew older he became much more jaded and pessimistic, and tends to lament about "fate" and "destiny", something he'd never paid mind to before. Now he believes things were always destined to turn out this way, which may be a coping mechanism for the helplessness of his situation... but it also contributes further to his helplessness as he resigned himself to this life, believing there is no other choice. 

Also fun fact, remember it was the priestess who initially sparked his interest in magic with her healing? Well, since making the pact, that is the one magic he can never use. As I said, it is divine in nature - and as he turned his back on the gods, they too turn their backs on him. He cannot wield it, he cannot benefit from it, and to try would only cause him great pain to no avail.

[razrogue]

for Gan my beloved <33

lae'zel 5. Did your character influence Lae’zel into staying loyal to or rejecting Vlaakith? How did this affect their relationship with her?

shadowheart 4. What did your character think about Shadowheart’s devotion to Shar, including her memory sacrificing?

astarion 1. How did your character react to Astarion’s little charade and dagger first encounter?

gale 3. What did your character think about Gale’s romance with Mystra?

minthara 1. What motivated your character to initially spare or side with Minthara, then later rescue her from Moonrise Tower?

jaheira 1. Did your character have any knowledge of Jaheira’s reputation as a hero prior to meeting her?

minsc bonus. What did Gan think of the guardian spirits Minsc described as residing in the Sleeping Lands? What about his assumption of what Baldur's Gate's equivalent spirits would be?

Lae'zel - 5. Did your character influence Lae’zel into staying loyal to or rejecting Vlaakith? How did this affect their relationship with her?

Gan is typically big on "you do whatever works best you". It's your life and she doesn't have to live it so she's not usually one to interfere. In this particular case though, she did mention to Lae'zel when they camped right after leaving the creche that Vlaakith seemed to be hiding some crucial background info and that making a decision based on what Vlaakith told them seemed like a foolish thing to do. Gan never went into the astral prism (cause fuck Vlaakith I'm not your follower lol) and it almost came to a fight with Lae'zel about that decision but Gan stood her ground on that and Lae'zel reluctantly went along. Their relationship was a little shaky after that until Lae'zel really went through some of the discs they'd found and they spoke to Voss. Gan and Lae'zel had a long talk about what that would mean for her if Voss was telling the truth. Gan just tried to be there for Lae'zel (in a show of something resembling friendship) because she needed her focused on the task ahead of them.

Shadowheart - 4. What did your character think about Shadowheart’s devotion to Shar, including her memory sacrificing?

Gan doesn't usually give much thought to who or what people choose to worship or devote themselves to seeing as her own beliefs are pretty loose to damn near nonexistent outside of believing in herself. She did think SH was out of her damn mind to allow her memories to be sacrificed. That kind of manipulation makes Gan uneasy honestly because how do you know what's real anymore. Everything you thought you knew could have been fabricated, leaving you completely unsure of what is and isn't your own recollection.

Astarion - 1. How did your character react to Astarion’s little charade and dagger first encounter?

So this asshole 🙄😆 I HC that encounter going differently than in-game because there's no way Gan would have walked away without some suspicion of his ass so he would not have completely pulled her to the ground from behind. They would have been in a minor scuffle which landed them in the dirt. He still lands on top at her throat but his attention is divided between trying to get the upper hand and warning off Gale and SH. All Gan needs is a sliver of a moment and she gets it. She didn't react terribly to the encounter because while he had a dagger to their throat, she had a dagger to his ribs.

Gale - 3. What did your character think about Gale’s romance with Mystra?

Answered here!

Minthara - 1. What motivated your character to initially spare or side with Minthara, then later rescue her from Moonrise Tower?

The currency of information is what prompted Gan to side with Minthara. When Gan visited the grove, she only went to see about the healer and do some trading (or stealing). Whatever was happening with the tieflings and the druids was none of her business. After seeing how tense things were and watching Kagha's whole show, Gan just wanted to get what she needed and GTFO. When Kagha asked her to help the tieflings leave, Gan let her know if she wasn't getting paid then it was none of her business. Kagha dismissed her and Gan went on her merry way - spoke to Nettie, killed Nettie, stole Nettie and the grove's stuff. As she was leaving, she decided to see what Zevlor was willing to pay for her "help" but when he said they didn't have much Gan checked out mentally and continued trading and left. When she got to the goblin camp and spoke to her, she'd gotten more information about what was happening than ever and that was payment enough especially if she could get more. So off she went to the grove to "aid" them before letting Minthara and the raiding party in. She was rewarded like she thought she would with info about Moonrise, a way to traverse the shadow lands safely, and a steamy night pinned beneath a very formidable and very hot woman. At Moonrise, as she watched what unfolded before Ketheric, she initially didn't feel much other than a pang of regret and annoyance that such a skilled [in multiple ways] person was going to perish so unceremoniously. As she was walking around the dungeon "procuring" items and keeping her word to Barcus so she could get paid, when she stumbled on Minthara's punishment it infuriated Gan. Not that she was above torture or inflicting mental statuses on targets or enemies, it just brought back awful memories for Gan and she was moved to act on Minthara's behalf. If they'd simply beheaded her or did some physical torture before beheading her, it wouldn't have moved Gan one bit. But as she watched it unfold, she saw herself in the situation (because she had been in a similar situation) and couldn't bear to let it continue so she deceived them and freed her. Then they proceeded to smear the floors with the blood of everyone that wasn't a prisoner in that dungeon.

Jaheira - 1. Did your character have any knowledge of Jaheira’s reputation as a hero prior to meeting her?

Gan's not from Baldur's Gate and never lived there beyond occasionally visiting for work so she was not as familiar with the tales in detail.

Minsc bonus - What did Gan think of the guardian spirits Minsc described as residing in the Sleeping Lands? What about his assumption of what Baldur's Gate's equivalent spirits would be?

I don't think Gan talked to Minsc enough to even get this discussion because I have no idea what this is 😆

[kimberbohwrites]

All I Wanted, Chapter Two

Rating: Explicit because Smut, Light Angst

Rolan x AFAB, Unnamed Tav

Read on AO3

Chapter One Here

After the events of Baldur’s Gate 3, Tav has stayed in touch with Rolan and his siblings. She visits weekly to volunteer at Ramazith Tower as a healer for the refugees in the city. Her growing crush on the wizard finally comes to a head one night, along with a healthy dose of miscommunication and misunderstanding.

Alternating Tav/Rolan POV each chapter

Update: There are now SIX planned chapters.

Chapter 4 posting by 4/1 at latest (no jokes here)

Chapter Two: Green Eyes

Rolan awoke the next morning with a throbbing headache and the sense he’d made a colossal mistake. He groaned as he turned over in his bed where he had fallen asleep fully dressed after his encounter with Tav the night before. Wincing as he remembered how he’d frozen in front of the woman he had been desperately in love with for months. She was in his arms, her hands on him,

…

grinding against his body and he’d still fucked it all up.

Rubbing his palms on his closed eyes didn’t clear the thoughts of her from his head. Her green eyes were always there lately, haunting him. He had wanted to stay the night with Tav — he wanted her more than anything. After a few glasses of wine too many he’d finally gotten his wish when he’d pulled her into the closet during last night’s festivities. Everything happened so fast but for a moment everything was perfect.

Then she said it — “will you stay?” Such an innocent question and yet he remembered why he’d forced his feelings for Tav down for so long in the first place. It hit him like a punch to the gut.

She wouldn’t stay. He already knew it because she’d said as much right after the fall of the Elder Brain. She’d wanted to help out but found she couldn’t stay in the city for long. Of her entire group of adventurers, she was one of the few who didn’t hail from a large city. She’d grown up in a small Druid circle in the woods along the Sword Coast. In fact, she’d only been in Baldur’s Gate to be kidnapped in the first place because she was delivering healing supplies from the Druids to the city.

Rolan cursed himself for being foolish enough to fall in love with someone he could never have. Even if she somehow didn’t mind being seen in public in a relationship with a Tiefling, even if she overlooked his lack of social skills, even if he somehow found the nerve to tell her he’d been falling in love with her since before Lorroakan’s death — she wouldn’t stay and he wouldn’t ask her to.

The only thing he wanted more than her was her happiness and he believed that she would never be truly happy by his side. He knew the sounds of her pleasuring herself against his thigh would haunt him for the rest of his days, but at least he’d felt what it was like to hold her in his arms and to feel her lips against his. He sighed and willed himself out of bed to face the day. He noted the storm from the night before was still going strong, the gray skies and rain seemed to match his mood.

After a wash and change of clothes he came downstairs to find Cal at the table looking glum. Alfira and Lakrissa had just joined him, having stayed the night. They all looked groggy. He perked up a little when he saw Rolan coming down the stairs.

“I thought I was the only one who hadn’t used last night’s game to hook up but there you are!” Cal said with a huff.

“What?” Rolan asked, so confused he’d stopped on the stairs.

Before Cal could answer, Tav appeared at the top of the stairs. She looked tired but Rolan thought he had also noted a hint of sadness in her eyes as she moved down the stairs and past him. She barely nodded to him with a slight blush on the apples of her cheeks.

“Morning!” She said to the table, sounding like someone forcing themselves to be happy.

I think your original thought was right, Cal, you were the only one who didn’t hook up last night,” Alfira said as she tried to suppress a giggle into her morning cup of tea.

Rolan had finally made it down the stairs and joined them at the table when it clicked in his head.

“Where are Dammon and Lia?” He asked

Cal, Alfira, and Lakrissa burst into the laughter they’d been barely managing to suppress.

“Finally!” Tav gasped happily while looking up from her teacup as she also made the connection.

Rolan’s mind reeled as the implications of what the group had confirmed sunk in. Cal poured a cup of tea and pushed it across the table to him. He’d instinctively sat down next to Tav at the table, usually he felt comfortable in her presence but this morning felt different and regret stung in his chest. As he opened his mouth to address the group with further questions about Dammon and Lia, the very subjects of their discussion appeared together at the top of the stairs.

He didn’t envy them as five sets of eyes fixed on them in an instant. Remembering his manners just a moment too late, he quickly averted his gaze but he’d looked long enough to see the way Dammon stared at Lia. Even someone as emotionally obtuse as Rolan could see the look of pure love on the blacksmith’s face. He couldn’t help but feel a little jealous of how openly the other man wore his heart on his sleeve, regardless, he was happy for his sister. She deserved love.

It was Tav who broke the moment as the couple came down the stairs and joined them at the table.

“So the storm outside still looks pretty nasty, do you guys mind if I stay a little longer today until it breaks up a bit? I’ll make breakfast?” She asked to Cal and Lia. He wondered if she was making an effort to not look at him or if this was just natural. Either way it hurt more than he anticipated.

“Of course!” Lia replied sweetly to Tav, but Rolan didn’t fail to miss the way her eyes stared daggers at him.

Tav prepared a breakfast of fried potatoes with rosemary, served with toast and her homemade strawberry preserves. After helping with the clean up, the guests who lived nearby departed into the rain. Dammon had given Lia a quick peck on the cheek before leaving and then blushed profusely while averting Rolan’s gaze. As soon as their guests were gone Tav and Lia had run from the room hand in hand, with Tav begging his sister to tell her everything. The cacophony of joy faded down the hall leaving Rolan and Cal alone.

“Next time someone else gets to seek and I get to hide with the pretty girls,” Cal said directly to him after a long, uncomfortable silence. Rolan laughed wryly.

He departed to his study — even days when the shop is closed are still days he has to work. The old “master of the tower” had been in love with the title but not the job and had failed to do it for some time. It was his responsibility to study hard and care for the tower and it’s magical artifacts better than he had. Hours ticked by as he worked at his desk. He didn’t notice the passage of time until a knock came at the door.

He stood from his desk with a stretch as Tav entered sheepishly.

“Hi,” she said quietly. The sound made his heart leap into his throat.

“Hey,” He responded and wished he could be less awkward.

“Lia thought I should come check on you to make sure you weren’t upset about the whole Dammon thing,” she finished as she shut the study door behind her and leaned back against it. She stared up at him through her eyelashes from across the room and he found himself grateful he was in robes today. If only so he could retain some dignity in disguising the tent forming in his pants. He looked away from her eyes to regain his sanity for a second.

Rolan knew Lia didn’t give a shit about what he thought of her relationship with Dammon and she wasn’t the type of person to send her friend to intercede on her behalf. It was easy to surmise that Lia sent Tav here under an innocent guise for a reason.

“I’m happy for her, really,” He said as he suddenly remembered to speak out loud.

“Well, I also want to apologize for last night…” She hesitantly said, turning her gaze down to look at the floor.

“Apologize?” Rolan was shocked.

“I shouldn’t have read into it so seriously,” She cleared her throat and Rolan could see a tear run down her cheek, “It was just fun for you and that’s okay, I shouldn’t have assumed you wanted me. I hope I didn’t ruin things. We still have to go to that wedding, but I understand if this changes things.”

Gale and Astarion’s wedding, he remembered. They’d agreed to go together as friends last month when they’d received their invites. He’d cited the long travel-distance to Waterdeep as his meager reasoning on why they should go together. He pushed it from his mind, pushed everything that wasn’t Tav from his mind.

Rolan couldn’t remember crossing the room — but he’d done so in an instant. He didn’t know what was wrong with him. He couldn’t stand to see her like this, especially knowing it was his fault. His resolve vanished the moment those big green eyes looked up at him, tears running down her face and hanging in her eyelashes. He lifted her face to his with a gentle hold on her chin and kissed away the tears on her cheeks before he softly pressed his lips to hers.

She kissed him back immediately. It felt like lightning in his veins. Kissing her had come to feel so natural in such a short time and yet he knew it would never get old. She pulled back and nipped at his bottom lip, he couldn’t help but groan. Deepening the kiss, her mouth yielded to his as their tongues met. It drove the sanity from his mind. He pressed her up against the door and lifted her slightly to wrap her legs around his waist. One of her arms was wrapped securely around his back. Then he felt the fingertips of her other hand ghosting up one of his horns. He shivered into her mouth with a moan and willed himself to not finish on the spot.

He broke their kiss for a moment and her eyes darted open in a panic.

“I’m sorry! I should have asked!�� She apologized immediately.

He leaned his forehead against hers and tried to steady himself as lust drove him toward a frenzy.

“No need to apologize. I like it,” he breathed. “I actually meant to ask you last night. Am I the first Tiefling you’ve…” He trailed off nervously.

She bit her lip and nodded timidly.

“Lucky me,” he said in a growl and left a soft nip at her jaw, soothing the spot immediately with a kiss. She let out an approving moan and grabbed at him. Her sounds went straight to his cock, making him achingly hard. He was vaguely aware of his tail which had coiled around one of her ankles.

“Rolan,” She moaned in that breathy gasp that rendered him powerless.

He ground his hardened length against her center. His lips covered hers again as he drank in the intoxicating sounds that she made as he touched her. The friction of where their bodies met was bliss, but he knew it would never be enough. At the same time his mind struggled to understand how this beautiful, perfect thing could possibly want him.

“What are we doing?” He whispered against her lips as he tried to offer her the chance to leave.

The way she paused and leaned her head back against the door to consider his question made him think she’d understood it’s deeper meaning.

“Can we figure it out later?” She asked him hopefully after a moment.

“Yes,” he shot back instantly and with a quick incantation he’d moved them both back upstairs to his bedroom. He gently tossed Tav down on her back on his bed. It didn’t matter how many times he dreamt about how she might look in this very spot, the real thing was better. Her hair fanned out across the bed. She looked up at him through her eyelashes again and sucked the corner of her bottom lip into her mouth.

“Fuck. Tav.” He panted out, “Do you have any idea what you do to me? I can’t focus —I can’t resist you.”

“Really?” She seemed almost shocked to him.

“Why do you think I agreed to play a children’s game in the first place?” He said as he slowly climbed into the bed and over her. Hoping to all the gods that he looked a fraction as sexy as she did in this moment.

“I was just hoping to catch you alone, Tav. I didn’t know that would happen but there is no need to apologize. I liked it.” He said as he began to kiss up her neck.

“Rolan, please” She pleaded for him with a moan as she threw her head back, allowing him room to suck and bite at her exposed skin. Her body shivered under his touch. Her soft skin brushed against his like silk.

Before long they’d divested themselves of their clothes in a clumsy rush, their hands roamed and explored each others' bodies for the first time. He alternated between her neck and her mouth as he lavished kisses on her, only stopping to allow them to breathe. She made the sweetest sounds and writhed against the bed when he began to explore her breasts. Rolling and pinching lightly at her pert nipples.

His hands were beginning to skim lower on her body. It seemed she enjoyed the feeling of his dull pointed nails as they traced down her with a light pressure.

“Tav!!!!” They both heard coming down the hall. They stopped moving against each other in an instant. He tried to ignore his hardened cock pressed against her stomach.

“Tav, the storm is breaking! You can make it home today but it’s pretty late! I’m sorry!” The voice came again, it was Lia. She continued past his door and down the hall. It seemed she suspected her gambit to send Tav to him had worked and was trying not to discover where they’d gotten off to together. Rolan groaned, the moment was ruined by reality and his meddling siblings.

“You should have left them in Moonrise,” He whispered into her ear as he rolled off her.

“Rolan!” She swatted at him softly with a giggle.

“Still, I wanted to take you on a date before we…” He trailed off awkwardly.

“Shockingly old fashioned, Rolan, but I can respect that,” she said sweetly, “How about the next time I’m in town?”

“Deal.” He said with a rush of excitement. He pulled her close and kissed her deeply, not knowing how he could wait and entire tenday to be with her.

It had been hard to watch her get dressed and leave. The sun had started to come out, but he felt gloomier than ever. His spirits were lifted when he remembered he now had an important date to plan. He helped her pack up and tried to subtly plant a forehead kiss near her hairline without his siblings noticing. Judging from the sounds of their whoops and catcalls, he had failed.

It was going to be a long several days.

[theblueprinxe]

The pale elf and blue haired elf

Just sharing my silly own take on my Tav's adventure with the pale elf. Some aspects of the story have been changed so be kind!

Prinxe sat on the edge of the camp, far way from the others who were going over the escape plan and preparing tonights dinner. It currently was Gale's turn and he was in a deep discussing with Shadowheart on Waterdeeps traditional meals. Shadowheart of course was half paying attention more excited of the thought of a proper meal than the actual process of it but she made sure to add in a few nods to keep Gale happy. It made Prinxe chuckle, the group she formed certainly was far from average but it helped her keep her mind off of things.

It had only been two days since the crash but she somehow managed to save a grove and gather a few allies with similar parasites. She still hadn't spotted the githyanki she met but Shadowheart was quick to say that she probably was long gone.

There was Shadowheart, a half-elf cleric who had as many secrets as she did but was grateful to Prinxe for rescuing them from their pod and . Gale a talkative human mage who somehow managed to trap themselves in a sigil and had knowledge of magic beyond what Prinxe knew of. Wyll or better yet, the Blade of frontiers, a human with warlock abilities who helped protect the grove from a goblin attack. And finally, Astarion. The pale rogue elf. She had pleasant experiences with everyone else on their first interaction, but Astarion's was vastly different. He had been calling out for help on a cliff close to the crash and the group was happy to assist any other survivors.

This had been a lie. When Prinxe approached to kill what they thought was an intellect devourer, it ended up being nothing more than a boar. She wanted to laugh at first realizing what it actually was but found herself pinned to the ground with a knife to her throat. This of course received the pale elf a hard head butt and a stand off with her explaining she wasn't in league with their captors. He apologized and she extended an offer for him to join the group. Both Gale and Shadowheart disapproved but one couldn't be picky when it came to battle. Besides having another rogue on the team would prove handy when it came to their current task of freeing the parasite from their head and saving Halsin.

Her eyes fixated on the water, watching as it moved to and from the shore trying her best to slow down her thoughts. She knew her full focus should be back with the others, but her mind was going a million miles a second trying to fully comprehend everything.

First it was Bulders Gates attack, then parasite that wiggled in her head like it owned it, the nautiloid crash and now the task of finding the druid healer.

She wasn't unaccustomed to the endless adventures that were taking place but her mind was most heavy with the thought of the small ring she was playing with. Part of her wanted to throw the damn thing into the river and never see it again but the other part of her couldn't bear with letting it go. It was a symbol of a promise to be made, but that promise now seemed tainted. And it made her angry.

"Our ever so chatty Gale asked me to inform you suppers ready." Prinxe's eyes moved away from the water and over to a now comfortably dressed Astarion, who was currently eyeing the other with a hint of interest.

It seemed he also found a suitable camp outfit from Zelvor. The grove they protected was nice enough to offer supplies and more importantly clothes. Prinxe picked a simple tan shirt and a random pair of pants since it seemed easy to move in and comfortable enough for the time being. And it seemed like Astarion found something of his style. A simple white poet like shirt that showed off a bit of his chest, and black pants which suited the contrast of the top.

"I'll be over in a moment." He nodded in response, eyeing the small ring in Prinxe's hand for a moment before making his way back over to the fire to grab whatever meal Gale had prepared. She gave the ring one last twirl before placing it back on her neck and returning to the others.

~

Prinxe tossed and turned in their cot unable to peacefully rest. It was as if something was willing her to wake up or maybe it was the feeling of something or someone, close to her.

The sensation of someones breath against her neck, caused her eyes to open and make direct eye contact with Astarion’a crimson orbs. His red eyes glistening in the moonlight and his now rather visible fangs mere inches from her neck.

"Shit" He quickly got up, scrambling to his feet and away from her making sure there was a decent space between them if she decided to attack.

Within seconds she was to her feet inching closer to the other. "What the hell are you doing." She kept her voice at a soft but very audible yell to ensure she didn't wake up the others. Last thing she wanted was a battle in the middle of the night.

"I-It's not what it looks like." His voice and face were full of panic as he continued to speak. "I wasn't going to hurt you...I just needed..." It was clear he was lost for words, unsure what to say considering he was caught in the act.

"Blood?" Prinxe cut the other off, it didn't take her long to connect the dots. It had only been earlier that day the group stumbled upon the drained boar near the goblin camp which Astarion was more than kind enough to inform her that a vampire had drained it. "That boar we found today. That was you wasn't it?" She stepped closer to him showing no sign of fear, the panic on his face was growing with each step she took, watching as her hands danced across her dagger. "How long has it been since you killed someone?"

Astarion put his hands up in defense trying to defuse the situation seeing the bluenette's hands on her weapon. "Please, I promise you I only feed on animals. I haven't bitten another person in years....I just have been too weak since I got abducted and with fighting the goblin camp tomorrow I just needed something more."

She stopped in her tracks eyeing the other. Even though he had a pale complexion it was noticeable how exhausted he looked compared to the first day they met. His eyes had darker tones under them showing his exhaustion fully to her. He needed blood like she needed food and clearly, he was hungry.

Her hands moved away from the dagger as she backed away giving him space. "I trust you...just don't sneak around trying to bite people or you might end up with a dagger in your chest."

He sighed out in relief, allowing himself relax some before taking a few steps closer to her and beginning to speak once again. "Now if you could just trust me a bit more..."

"Your not seriously asking to bite me are you?"

"You want me to be able to fight better and be stronger right?" His words were like honey as he spoke and it was obvious persuasion was a skill he excelled at. Though she didn't need much persuasion. She wanted to be free of this parasite and if it meant having to give up a bit of blood to him so he would be stronger for battle it seemed like a good trade.

"Fine but not a drop more or I will put a dagger in you." For a split second she could see his surprise. He wasn't sure she'd say yes but he was clearly happy she did. "Not a drop more~" He purred, his lips curling into a devious smirk

"Let's make ourselves more comfortable, shall we?" Without a word, he gently took the others hand, leading her back to her bedroll, and motioned her to get comfortable.

She nodded, laying down and allowing herself to get as comfortable as she could considering she was about to be someone’s snack. He stood over her for a moment seeming to take in his new willing prey and she decided to take in her predators details as well. She never really studied his features or paid him much mind, but right now she couldn’t help but take in every detail of his face. His short white curly hair framed his face perfectly and his smirk was definitely a girls or maybe even a boys weakness. He was handsome and with the moonlight against his pale skin, he seemed almost unreal.

Without a word, he kneeled besides her, gently moving her blue locks away from her neck, and beginning to study which side he wanted to drink from more.

"Is it okay if this gets blood on it?" His fingers gently ran over her necklace that kept the ruby ring on it making a small shiver come over her body. "It will be fine." He nodded, his fingers sliding further down her neck to reach the top button of her shirt. As if like second nature, his fingers undid the first two buttons with ease, exposing the top part of her chest. “We don’t want the others to know what we’ve been up too”

He moved to fully kneel over her, placing a knee on each side as if to keep her squirming away from him. Being an elf, she could see quite well in the dark but even if she couldn't his crimson eyes seemed to intensely glow and pierce through the dark. He stared down at her with an almost animalistic expression making her heart race.

He licked his lips in anticipation, gently cupping her chin in his hand as she moved her head to the side to fully expose the right side of her neck. Feeling the others weight shift and press against her slightly made a fluttering feeling fill her chest. This was no time to become flustered but her body seemed to have a mind of its own reacting to every moment of his with lust and nervousness.

Goosebumps formed across her body as he inched closer to her neck, his warm breathe causing a familiar sensation to grow in her lower abdominal. She mentally cursed at herself and tried her best to push those thoughts far away. This was just a way to help him nothing more.

"Are you ready?" His voice seemed almost seductive as he spoke making her cheeks gain a light red hue and the warm feeling intensifing. "Y-yes..."

The small wet feeling of his tongue dancing against her neck caused an involuntary whimper to escape from her lips and the redness on her cheeks to grow. She bit her lower lip to keep herself silent knowing the next sensation would not be as pleasant. Without a word, the cold sharp feeling of his fangs piercing into her neck made her gasp out and her hands to immediately move to the others back, gripping the blouse to help with the pain.

Her vision slowly became cloudy as he continued to take his fill of her, making the smallest but very noticeable noises of pleasure against her neck. She hadn’t even noticed that she pulled his body closer to hers, which it seemed he happily followed, not wanting to let one drop of her go to waste.

The new closeness brought a very surprising smell to her, which seemed to be coming from the other. It was faint, but still noticeable to her. The soft smell of bergamot, rosemary and...a hint of brandy? It honestly was intoxicating and she was doing her best to not lean into him to get a better smell of it.

She was surprisingly enjoying this strange sensation of pain and pleasure. It wasn’t until she could feel her heart rate slowing slightly and the feeling of passing out coming over her to realise she needed him to stop. Her hands quickly moved from their place on his back and to his chest, using all the strength she had to push him back. "That's enough.."

He was almost reluctant as he moved away from her but he did it without hesitation, making sure to give her neck one last lick to clean up any spilled blood before fully leaning up to wipe his own mouth.

He stared down at her to taking in her newly flushed appearance and she took in his. He seemed almost drunk on her and gods did he look attractive in this state. His shirt was a bit unkept from her grabbing and his now red stained lips were curled in a perfect smirk. "That was....amazing" He gently titled her head to the side again studying her neck making sure he had gotten every last drop of her crimson liquid up. It was very clear, he didn't want to waste anything.

Once he was done inspecting the area, he gently moved her to face him again taking in one last look of her flushed cheeks and her shaky breathing. "Darling that was delicious ~ His voice came out in husky melody making her almost melt under him. He slowly gathered himself to stand up and began to make his way to the woods.

Prinxe got up as quickly as her body allowed her too and called out to the other. "Where are you going?" Her voice came out a bit breathless but audible enough for him to hear.

He stopped in his tracks and turned to her, blood still dropping from his mouth. "As invigoration as you are, I need something a bit more filling to get me ready for tomorrow." With that he turned back around but stopping one last time. "This is a gift you know, I won't forget it."

And with those final words, he made his way into the forest happier and more importantly stronger.

[littlelostmabari]

Day 20: Demon or Spirit

I think this is legit an excerpt from One of the Good Ones or it's sequel, once the gang reaches Skyhold. Spoilers that Saoirse lives? I guess? 🫢 Also Quizzy is a bitch, I'm sorry.

Characters: Female OC (Saoirse the Druid, my 5e Girl In Thedas™️), Solas, Cole, Vivienne. Mentioned Saoirse x Cullen

Word Count: 1.2k

"I don't care, get rid of it."

One wave of her hand, and the Inquisitor was up the stairs to the broken down main hall and was gone. Vivienne met Solas' eyes with a smirk.

"An appropriate inaugural decision for the newly appointed Inquisitor," she purred, passing a hand over the soft pauldrons of Solas' armor as she circled him.

"Her inaugural decision was to dedicate the Inquisition to her own power," he responded. "I am unsurprised she has no care for those who do not share her particular brand of ideology." His tone was apathetic, but the grip on his staff spoke a different story. It was gnarled, twisted, and grinding the blunt end into the earth as Vivienne took her leave and made for the healers tents, a spell weaving between her playful fingers.

"His light is bright, but dimmed, darkened, deadened. He dims it because he worries that the brightness could blind. He sees her and thinks he was right. He's not right, he doesn't look in the right places."

"'Ello, Cole," Saoirse replied from her perch above the stairs where Cullen had set up his temporary command center. She had watched the argument unfold beneath her, watched as Cole ended the life of the man she could not heal. It was a mercy — he wouldn't make it to sundown, and nothing they had could quiet his pain. Now the spirit sat close to her, observing the same courtyard.

"He looks at iron and sees rust. He looks at a lion and sees a mewling kitten. A raven, a carrion bird." Cole murmured, watching Solas close his eyes and take in a deep breath. "He hasn't really looked at you, I wonder what he sees, and — oh, it's quiet again." Solas had turned to look up to the parapet where Saoirse and Cole were dangling their feet. He locked eyes with her, and his brows slowly knotted between his piercing eyes. Without thinking, she moved her hand atop Cole's where it rested against the corner of the wall, and squeezed. Solas' eyes darted to held hands, and the knot relaxed slightly as his head tilted to the side with curiosity.

"Why do you do that?" Cole asked, and Saoirse's head snapped to meet the boy's eyes, but they were hidden by the brim of his overlarge hat.

"Do what?" she murmured, attention turning back to Solas who was steadily climbing the stairs back up to what would become the main hall. It was also the most direct path to her perch, unless he could jump or fly the forty feet. She wondered which direction he was heading.

"Hurry, Jhessem, pull your hood up, don't let them see your face. Whatever you do, don't let go of my hand." Cole whispered quickly. Saoirse could see the alley in her minds eye, the one she had dragged her sister down when the Flaming Fist had interrupted her panhandling. They thought Jhessem belonged in the orphanage, and she would never let the Fist take her little sister away from her, so they had run like their lives depended on it. They had run all the way back through to the flophouse where their mother wasn't. "I'm not your sister. Why do you reach for me?"

Saoirse looked down at where her hand rested on Cole's — or rather, where her grip was tight around his fingers. His hand was warm under hers, and much larger than Jhessem's five-year old hand had been.

"You miss her."

"Yeah, I do."

"You gave her everything you had, all of you. You gave her more than you had." Saoirse looked back up, and he had tilted his head up to look at her. "She had everything she needed. The rest is up to her."

Her hand was suddenly wet, over Cole's. Saoirse looked down to see a droplet of water resting on the pad of her hand over her thumb, and then brought the other hand up to her face. She hadn't realized she'd started to cry. She clutched his hand harder.

"You saw me, when the other's didn't," Cole whispered. "It's hard to hide from you, from Solas."

"I suspect it has something to do with her relationship to the Fade." Solas' voice was soft behind them, but it was startling enough that it nearly knocked Saoirse from her perch. He addressed her directly now. "Cole uses the connection that mortals have to the Fade to slip in and out of their minds. It allows him to interpret their needs and hide himself away. I postulate that he has a harder time hiding from someone whose connection to the Fade is tenuous."

"You don't dream," Cole stated, as if it was a commonly known fact.

"I do," Saoirse replied, finally releasing Cole's hand to wipe her face on her sleeves. "But you're right, Solas, I don't go to the Fade when I sleep." Solas nodded.

"Then it is less odd that you would not feel threatened by a spirit who has taken the form of a boy." It was Saoirse's turn to tilt her head. "I speak of Cole. He is a spirit of Compassion, who has entered… has manifested in this world in such a way that he has been uncorrupted by Desire or Despair." He gestured to the space in between Saoirse and Cole. "I am simply commenting that a mage with an anomalous disconnection with the Fade and a spirit who should not be able to manifest in the waking world so clearly… An odd pairing, but not, I think, undesirable. Especially considering the forces that wish to disrupt your existences."

His eyes looked beyond the two of them, back to where Vivienne and the Inquisitor were in a tense, gesticulating discussion on the landing near the main hall.

"I do not believe Skyhold is safe for either of you —"

"I'm not leaving." Saoirse stood, dusting off her breeches. "So don't ask. I'm not here for her, anyway."

"The lion and the mabari, round and round in circles. Which one bites first? Which bites harder?" Cole continued to kick his feet, looking out into the courtyard.

Solas snorted and Saoirse felt a blush creeping up her face, although she didn't quite understand why.

"He can stay with me, if he likes. I can read minds too, if the need arises. And I've gotten pretty good at hiding from Andraste's chosen bitch. Plus…" She sighed. "He reminds me of someone."

When she turned, she found Solas had replaced the curious look on his face with a soft smile. His eyes lingered on hers, then quickly darted to her hands resting on the pommel of her scimitar and dagger, then briefly at Cole, then to her face again.

"When you have a chance, I'd like to discuss these dreams of yours." Without another word, he turned and made for the door that led back into the antichamber where he had begun painting his enormous mural. Saoirse looked back at Cole, and then stuck a hand under his armpit and dragged him up to his feet.

"Come on, kid, Cullen looks like he needs a snack."

"Lion and the mabari, round and round," came the murmur from behind her.

"Yeah, yeah, remind me to ask Varric about that one later."

[pedros-immaculate-vibes]

A Peaceful Elf

Part VII

Halsin/Tav fanfic (slow burn, fluff, angst)

It was all one moment. A moment made of a hundred motions.

“Halsin could see the entire camp. The gnolls running down the hill into our little sanctuary. He whipped his left arm behind him, grabbing the table. Like a windmill, he hurled it at the gnoll’s chest while his other arm pulled me into the space where the table had been. I had turned in his arm and now faced the center of camp. I came face to face with a raging druid at the precipice of transformation. As another gnoll ran at him from his right, an eldritch blast propelled it through part of the tent, away from the growing mass of fur. I changed into my Rothe form and started heaving gnolls left and right. Karlach had lifted you up onto her shoulder and cleaved at least three of them in half as she tried to find a safe place to put you. One came up right behind her, but Astarion bit him, and then just kept hacking away. Lae’zel covered Karlach, absolutely annihilating three more, and they both moved to the edge of the camp when two gnolls overpowered me, and I turned back into, well, this…That’s when I got—,” you pointed to your thigh, now wrapped and splinted. A small pang shot through your skull as a headache began. Maybe less enthusiasm, yeah?

Shadowheart listened, pensively, from the adjacent cot. She was sitting up and processing now that she was awake. With two-thirds of the possible healers down, recuperation was slow going. 

“And you’re telling me I was incapacitated from the beginning. That they threw something at me?” She frowned.

“Quite. It almost puts all of our practice these past few mornings to shame,” chastised Lae’zel as she placed a bowl of food near the cleric. “Eat. You will need it.” A hesitation, as if assessing Shadowheart, and then she turned on her heels and left. 

“How are you feeling?” Halsin now made his way into the makeshift healer’s tent, stooping down to see us both. 

“Better than I was last night, apparently. Tav was catching me up.”

“I heard,” he crouched down onto one knee. “You may have lost an opportunity as a bard, little leader,” he grinned. “I’m glad to see you both awake. What do you need?” 

While Halsin tended to you and Shadowheart, outside the tent, you could hear tense conversation. Peering around the wide shoulders, you saw the rest of the group huddled together. Lae’zel and Wyll stood opposite from Astarion, Karlach and Gale. From their strained body language, there was clearly a disagreement. “Do you know what they’re on about?” Looking back at Halsin.

“Hm? Oh, the others. They seem to be at an impasse on whether to journey to the crèche or wait for you to heal. With that leg, limited healing potions, and this one,” he pointed his chin with a faint smile, “acting as our only functional healer, reasonable options are limited.”

“What about you? Or…did you meet your magic healing quota on us already?” You asked, realizing you hadn’t stuttered once in his presence this time. Perhaps it was the throbbing pain in your leg that kept you steady.

He pointed a finger at you as he inspected Shadowheart’s forehead. “Precisely. I believe some of them do not like the idea of leaving you here, while Lae’zel is quite determined to waste no more time with that worm in her head.” The cleric’s injury seemed to meet his standards.

All three of you looked back at the group. “They’ll listen to you, you know.” He turned back to you. “Would you like me to bring them over?”

Shadowheart adjusted her self and slid her legs off the cot, still gripping the side for balance. “I feel just about ready to make my way to the crèche or to search for a place with healing supplies. It’s unwise to go far without them, given what we face.”

“Mmm, this is true,” Halsin agreed.

You chewed the inside of your cheek, and thought about your options. “If we’re limited on anything medicinal, I’m in no state to move. If the pack does move forward to the crèche, perhaps they can find supplies AND a way to rid us of these little buggers. Hmm.” You paused, making up your mind, then told Halsin, “Alright, call them over.”

A quirked eyebrow, “yes, m’lady,” with a smile.

Okay, yeah that was a little bossy. They’re your allies not your dogs. Tone it down.

They all gathered around the entrance to the tent. 

“Tav,” Lae’zel started, “it is folly waiting here another minute when our salvation lies at the foot of this mountain! Tell them so, for they will not listen to reason,” she hissed and shot a glare at Astarion, Gale and Karlach, who began to glow a bit brighter. Your head began to throb. Halsin knelt down near your cot again, searching for more bandages in one of the bags below a table.

“We’re not leavin’ her here to get eaten by any gnolls that want to come by. Are you actually daft, ‘Zel, or do you just want to be the one calling the shots that badly?” The tiefling fumed.

Astarion and Gale took a step back. Gale, obviously concerned; Astarion, seeming to place bets in his own mind.

“How DARE you insinua—”

“HOLD ON! Hold on—no one is trying to keep these critters any longer than necessary or put our Tav in any danger. Please,” Wyll walked in between the two fierce forces, his hands raised to both. Braver than me. “Perhaps Tav has a take on this.” They looked to you.

You took a deep breath, “The way I see it, with this leg, I’m no good traveling anywhere. We’ve gone on long enough with the tadpoles doing gods-knows-what in our skulls, and the crèche is a day’s walk. They may also have supplies. IF they don’t, or if things go south, we should probably send another group to reach the last farm or bit of civilization we passed. See what they can scrounge up. Shadowheart?” You had her attention. “I think you should go with Lae’zel to the crèche. That party will need someone to patch them up.” She scowled a bit at the simplistic characterization.

“Karlach,” She started to protest, but you raised a hand, “I’ll be fine, both parties will need help on their missions. Do you want to kick ass or go on scavenger duty?”

“I’ll be honest, I don’t believe a word you’re saying, you’re NOT fine, and you lie that you are all of the time, so why is this any different?” She stood, hulking arms crossed with a concerned frown. Everyone else found somewhere else to look, clearly agreeing with her assessment of your self-preservation skills.

When she cared, she cared fiercely. It was part of why everyone trusted her.

But she was stubborn. “Halsin, you’ve taken a look at this, am I fine?” You meant to say it as a patient to a caretaker. You immediately saw the problem with the statement. He looked back to you, curiously, then down at your leg. 

“Ahem, uh, well, it—it’s not ready for travel, yet it seems to be stable. It just needs time.” He glanced back up at you, a bit flushed, and then turned back to the group.

“There, you see? I’m fine. The healer says so,” you gestured to Halsin, who’s back was now turned to you, still able to see the rosiness peaking at the edges of his cheek.

“UGH, fine, whatever. But if you die out here, so help me, I’ll find a scroll to bring you back and kill you myself. Got it?”

You grinned. “Got it. Now, where do you want to go?”

Karlach thought for a moment. “My back does still ache…the best way to loosen it up is to bash a few heads in.” She eyed Lae’zel, who frowned back. “Eh, I’ll take the crèche. Let’s see if they’re all as perky as you, ‘Zel.”

“Alright, that’s three. One more should do it.” Astarion, Gale, Wyll and Halsin were left.

“Maybe I can find that literature you’ve been recommending down there,” Gale said to Lae’zel. She almost smiled in approval; a rare sight. The four of them began walking back to their tents to gather armor and the like.

“Good, that leaves Astarion, Wyll and you to find supplies,” you told the druid. They all stopped and frowned at you. 

“What, and leave you alone? You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah, I have to agree with Fangs on this one,” Karlach strode back to the tent you occupied. 

“I’m stable, and I have company!” They all looked at Scratch and the owlbear. “Just leave me some food and I’ll be completely fine. If you’re truly concerned, we can move the camp a bit. To some where more defendable.” They all looked at you disapprovingly. “By the gods, I am fine!”

“Halsin,” Wyll looked down to the druid, ignoring you, “Two should be fine for the journey. How about you stay here, given that the patient seems to be suffering from delusions?”

“Oh, well that’s not new,” crooned the vampire, “all the same, I do think you should stay. She needs company and tending; just look at her, so frail.” A mournful look to you.

You were dumbstruck. 

“So be it,” Halsin nodded to them. “If, she’ll have me.” He turned to you, still at eye level.

You were furious. “Fine,” you grated your teeth. Your headache now consumed most of your attention.

“Wonderful! Now that everyone’s happy, let’s get going. The sooner we can be done with all of this, the better.” Astarion gave you a meaningful glance, then sauntered to his tent. 

Unfuckingbelievable. You weren’t frail, you didn’t need a caretaker, you could do well enough. All you needed was a crutch. Maybe something for your head. They were blowing this out of proportion, Astarion probably did it just to needle you about how time at camp with him went, the nosy little twit. I’m going to learn how to grow poison ivy JUST to wrap him in it overnight, you fumed.

Halsin, the only one now present, covered your revealed foot with the blanket. “I—I’ll start our meal. Do you need anything in the meantime?”

Through your frustration, you could feel your stomach flip. Your frown slackened and you found your voice had lost its edge. “A crutch would be a good start, if you have a moment.”

“Certainly,” he beamed, patting the cot as if the gesture was a form of punctuation.

You grimaced from the jostle it caused.

“Oh, I’m—I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine! It’s fine. See? I’m good,” you turned your grimace into a close-lipped grin.

“…Right. Uh, I’ll go find something for you. Apologies.” He rose up, careful to not touch the cot again, and strode out.

—

Hells, they’re cracked, thought Karlach as she shook her head, witnessing the moment from outside her tent. 

—

How many days would it be? One day to the crèche, probably a day there, then a day back. You watched him leave, assessed your leg, then bit your lip at the sharp pain that followed. Lying across your frame was the blanket he had wrapped around your shoulders the night before.

You pulled it slowly up closer to your chest, knit your fingers into the weave. Maybe just a quick nap. You dozed off with the scent of sage and thyme wafting through your dreams. 

[mt-musings]

The Last Silverboughs

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

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

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

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

Read on AO3

“This is worrying, little one,” Halsin said as he peered into her eyes, her ears. She’d cleaned the black blood away before returning to camp, not with Astarion’s delicate embroidered handkerchief, but by jumping fully clothed into the lake, a decision which she regretted once she started plodding back, streaming freezing water. 

“It’s fine, Halsin,” she said, now clad in warm, spare clothes. “It’s not bad, really.”

He just stared at her, giving her a look. 

“Okay, it’s a little bad. But it’s manageable—it’ll get better with exposure. I’ll get a handle on it.”

“Is this something you know from experience?”

She nodded, thinking of her time in the Labyrinth, where she because a slave to the magic. It drained her, but it didn’t knock her flat, not each time. He sighed, sadness heavy in his hazel eyes and sunk another healing spell into her. She did her best not to flinch, but it stung, something fierce. 

Halsin opened his mouth to say something about her too-obvious discomfort, but she cut him off.

“They found a Fist wondering in the woods, mostly unharmed, but they haven’t been able to wake him up. He talks, though, in his sleep. He keeps singing a song, about ‘Thaniel and me.’”

Halsin’s eyes widened. “Are you sure he said Thaniel?”

“Yeah, he kept singing it.”

“Where is he?”

“In the inn. I can take you.”

“You should rest.”

“I have to grab a few supplies, anyway.”

Halsin looked like he wanted to argue, but nodded. She smiled at him. 

“Were you here, the last time?” She asked as they walked.

“It was a base for the resistance then, too. Harpers and druids. Now, just—“ he broke off with a sigh, looking away. Her stomach sank. How many had he lost here? To be back in the same place, with no change--

“There’s another druid here. Jaheira. She was here last time too. Karlach says she’s a big hero in Baldur’s Gate,” she said, hoping to steer the conversation to less painful topics.

“Jaheira is here?” he asked, recognition flashing across his face.

“You know her?”

“Only by reputation. Our paths didn’t cross on the battlefield, but she is a formidable ally. We are luckier than I thought.”

“She’s still making her mind up about us, but I like her. She’s funny.”

“The hero of not one, but two Bhaalsawn crises, but you like her because she's funny?”

She shrugged. She hadn’t a clue about any of the Bhaalspawn crises, other than the fact that Bhaalspawn were bad, bad news. He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. 

“If you find Thaniel, will it cure the Curse?” She asked. His smile turned sad.

“I think so. It has been long since I saw him last. He is my oldest friend. We played together as children, but as I grew—he never did.”

“Like a fey spirit?” She asked, thinking of the little boy in the dilapidated cottage. 

“Sort of,” he said, cocking his head to the side. “He is the spirit of the land. It’s a little different.”

“Oh,” she said, nodding. “Does he have two different colored eyes? And red skin?”

“N-no. Why?” Halsin asked, brow furrowed.

“No reason. I didn't think so, I just wanted to check. Art’s through here. Maybe they woke him up since last I was here,” she said, avoiding his piercing gaze. She lead him into the infirmary and to the bed where the Fist lay, still murmuring to himself. Halsin immediately crossed to his side, speaking with the healer’s who’d been working on him.

She slipped away while he oriented himself, knowing he wouldn’t be back at camp until Art woke. She was unsettled to find that she'd miss him.

~~~

Lythra crept out of camp well before anyone woke, shoving a handful of apples into her pockets. She brought the sword again, setting it to sing, and followed the path back to the cottage. The shadows were more insistent this time, like a physical weight bearing down on her, pushing her into the dirt, making her fight for each breath. Still, she kept walking until she reached the house again.

“Hello! I brought more apples,” she called, pulling one of them from her pocket. She saw the little boy stick his head out of the house, peering at her.

“It’s you! You came back!” He said, running to her side and snatching the apple.

“I did. I said I would, remember?”

“Lots of people say they’ll come back, but they just leave,” he said, bitterly. 

“Sometimes,” she replied, knowing the truth of his words. 

“But you came back. I bet you missed me!”

“I did,” she said with a smile. She was surprised that she meant it, especially after he'd sort of tried to kill her. “You never did tell me your name.”

“It’s Oliver. But you can call me Ollie, if you want.”

“That’s a nice name.”

“What’s your name?”

“Lythra,” she said, knowing that if he was fey, it wasn't enough of an answer to steal it. 

“That’s a weird name,” he said, wrinkling his nose. Then he caught himself. “I guess it’s okay though.”

“I’m a little weird, so it fits.”

“Is that why you have a singing sword?”

“Probably.”

“Where’d you get it?”

“I had to pull it out of a rock, underground.”

“You’re right, you are weird,” Oliver said, though this time he looked delighted by it. She felt blood start to run out of her nose. She got up quickly, wiping it away.

“Are you sick?” Oliver asked. She nodded. He narrowed his eyes.

“Are you going to die?”

“It’s possible. Probable, even,” she replied. “Dunno when though.”

“It better not be soon. I’ll be cross with you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Ollie.”

“You—you’ll come back, right?”

“When I can.”

“Do you promise?”

“I promise.”

“Alright then,” he said sulkily. She ruffled his hair, stuffing her last apple into his hands before setting off back down the path.

~~~

Astarion ducked his head out of his tent to find Lythra setting his handkerchief on the stool outside. It was folded and freshly laundered without a trace of the scent of her blood. 

“Oh—I didn’t mean to wake you,” she said, instead just handing it to him. He frowned. 

“You didn’t—you didn’t have to return it.”

“It’s clean, I made sure.”

“That’s not what I meant! I just—you didn’t have to go to the trouble. You could have thrown it out."

She looked at him like he was stupid. “It’s nice. You don’t throw out nice things.”

“It’s just a handkerchief.”

“It’s got pretty little flowers on it, and…” she trailed off gesturing at the idle poetry he’d embroidered along the border. “It doesn’t matter. Throw it out if you don’t want it, but I’m not going to waste it.”

She turned and walked off, towards where Withers had camped out. He was rather sure she was the only one who bothered talking to him with any frequency. 

He looked down at the handkerchief, thumb ghosting over the roses he’d embroidered in the corners, the carefully stitched edging. 

Lythra didn’t have pretty things. She barely had things. He hadn’t even been nice to her, when he’d given it to her, and she’d returned it neatly folded because it was nice. 

She didn’t even know that he’d been the one to spend hours decorating it. 

He stared at it for a long time before carefully putting it back in his pocket.

~~~

“Oh—by the Hells,” Lythra hissed as she spotted the Absolute party making their way down towards the ambush sight. She made cursory note of the party—mostly goblins and orcs, but her attention focused on the apparent leader, a massive, pallid drider. 

“Old friend?” Astarion asked, and she didn’t need to turn to know he was wearing a cruel little smirk.

“Vith tir,” she spat back, trying to tamp down her disgust. Her mother had kept a pet drider, a particularly cruel bastard called Omareth. His vemon kept her stupid and slow and made her mother’s work that much easier. 

She didn’t know what had happened to him, during the demon assault of the city.

She hoped he died, screaming.

This one would too, if she had anything to say about it. 

It was a proper lunatic, judging by the way it spoke to itself as it lead the party. Of course, most drider were—few suffered Lolth’s direct displeasure and came out whole. Failed fanatics—and it sounded like this one had found a new queen. 

She stepped out from her hiding spot, holding up a hand for the others to wait. 

“What is this?” The drider asked, coming to an abrupt halt in the path. She felt his mind brush against hers, fractured and twisted. She almost felt bad for such a broken thing.

“You blessed them too, my Queen? Where is their lantern?”

“I need no lantern. My faith is strong, drider. I have failed no false-gods.”

He snarled at her, bearing his teeth. She only smiled and outstretched her hands stepping further into the shadows. The words came easy, the temptation familiar, the ending always the same—ruin.

“Do you believe in Her?” She asked, voice serene, promising rapture.

“Yes, of course.”

“Do you trust in her?”

“With my whole heart.”

“Then the Shadows cannot harm you. Not if you truly believe. Or are you afraid to test your faith? Will you fail her, like you failed your first queen?”

“Never,” he snarled, fury rippling off of him. She smiled wider.

“Then set your lantern down, drider. Prove your faith and see the glory of Her reward. There is nothing to fear, for the faithful. Join me, in Her favor and you shall be exalted.”

“But, the lantern—“

“Is your faith in the lantern, or your Queen? Perhaps I have misjudged your conviction. Perhaps you are not worthy.”

“I am! I am worthy!”

“Set down the lantern. Join me, in the protection of her love. Prove your devotion as only the faithful can.”

She watched as he slowly set down the lantern, taking a hesitant step forward. The orc behind him balked.

“You can’t be serious! The Shadows will tear us apart!”

“What a frightened, faithless thing. Do you dare bring disbelievers to Her Majesty?” Lythra said, aghast and furious, her attention solely on the mad drider. “You would shepherd such filth to the mantle of your Queen’s protection? You would disgrace Her so?”

“No—never! Never, Your Majesty!” He cried, turning towards the orc who had spoken up. The drider drew a long sword and jammed it through his throat, faster than the orc could react. He watched as he died, slowly, gurgling on his own blood before turning back to her.

“I bring no disbelievers. I am her faithful servant,” he said with fervent fury. She smiled.

“You are glorious. Walk in her grace. Join me,” she said, breathing the last two words like a siren’s call. 

“She will protect us. She—She must,” he said, taking another step forward, then another. He kept walking with his little party and she kept smiling and  stepping back, leading them further into darkness. 

She watched and the Curse began to take root, as it began tearing into them. They screamed and the drider begged the Absolute to save him. She slipped away, in the darkness, leaving them to their fate. 

There would be no rescue. The gods didn’t care if you begged. 

She knew that all too well.

She returned to the collapsing house feeling blood running from her ears, the Harpers and her companions flooding out, grinning at their easy victory. Astarion watched her with wide, wary eyes, even with his cruel little smile.

“I never would have believed that, had I not seen it with my own eyes,” Harper Branches said, grinning. “Nicely done! We’ll see you back at Moonrise.”

He and the other Harpers disappeared back the way they came.

Lythra crossed to the lantern and picked it up. There was no warmth in its light. No, there was something in it, something fluttering. She leaned closed, examining it. 

It was a pixie. A tiny, fluttering pixie locked inside, being prodded with spikes. 

Her heart clenched. 

“Oh please, oh golly, oh me, oh my! You must release me or I will die!” She cried from inside. “This lantern only lights the way when I am hurting night and day!”

Lythra fiddled with the lock without thought, carefully clicking it open.

“What do you think you’re doing! That’s the only thing that’s going to keep the Shadows from tearing us to bits before we get to Moonrise!” Astarion snarled. She glared at him.

“You’d rather keep her locked in a cage until she dies?” She shot back. She opened the lantern before he could reply, the pixie wizzing out. She stared at it in wonder.

“Finally! Been trapped in that coffin with only a mad drider and my own farts for company!” She cried, whirring in a corkscrew. Then she flutter back to face Lythra. “Did me a good turn there, didn’t you? What do I owe you?”

“Could you help us through the Shadow Curse?” She asked.

“Sure I can, but will I? Yes, sure why not! Here, give this bell a shake, speak the magic words, and you’ll get what you’ve earned. Protection from the Shadow Curse. What more could a dingus want?” The pixie said, giving her a little silver bell. 

“Thank you,” she said, giving the bell a little rattle. 

“You’re welcome!” The pixie replied, speed off.

“A pixie! An honest to pixie,” Astarion said with a giggle. An actual giggle.

“That you wanted to leave locked in the lantern,” Lythra shot back.

“Well, I didn’t know she was a pixie. Or that she’d give us a way through the Shadow Curse now, did I? Not that you’d have to worry about it, since you’re perfectly at home in its rot.”

“I would have released her even if I wasn’t. Hardly anything deserves to rot in a cage like that,” she said, frowning at the lantern, at the cruel spikes inside. She smashed it hard into the side off the dilapidated house, shattering it into a thousand pieces before throwing the broken handle off to the side. 

No, hardly anything deserved a cage like that. 

~~~

Astarion walked to the far end of camp, where Lythra laid out her bedroll. He couldn’t get the sound of her voice out of his head, when she promised that drider exhalation. Those poisoned words fell so easily from her lips and she’d held herself with all the disposition of a true emissary of the divine.

For a moment he’d wondered if she believed it herself. 

She sat cross-legged by the water, running her worn whetstone over the blade of one of her daggers. Several others sat next to her, freshly sharpened. 

She looked up briefly before turning back to her work.

There were shadows under her eyes, her cheeks more hollow than ordinarily. The Curse, taking its toll. 

“You know,” Astarion said, settling down next to her on the ground. “That was quite the performance you gave back there. Not many people can say they’ve literally talked someone to death.”

“I bet you’ve tried,” she said dryly, setting aside the finished blade before flopping onto her back. He frowned, studying her face.

“You knew just what to say, what strings to pull. That's quite a talent.”

“It wasn’t hard. We grew up in the same evil cult. Religious freaks are all the same, as far as I can tell.”

“You play a rather convincing fanatic.”

“I grew up in Menzoberranzan. It’s sort of a requirement.”

He stared at her beneath furrowed brows. He thought that might have been the first time she’d voluntarily shared personal information since he’d met her. She gave him a look.

“What?”

“You never mentioned you grew up in Menzoberranzan.”

“You never asked.”

He hadn’t. He hardly asked her much of anything real. 

“Would you have told me, if I had?”

“Maybe. After you knew I was a drow.”

He nodded, laying back next to her. They lay in silence for a long time. Finally she turned, making a face.

“What do you want, Astarion?”

Gods. She was always asking him that. And half the time—now, half the time he didn’t even think he knew.

“Why do you always ask what I want?”

“Because you always want something. You wouldn’t come and talk to me if you didn’t.”

Is that what she thought? Well, he supposed she wasn’t exactly wrong, but it did sound so very ugly when she said it like that. 

“That’s not—I don’t want anything.”

“Nothing?”

“Just—just company, I suppose.”

She nodded, with a sigh. Then she got up, and walked off, towards the center of camp. He watched her go, a pang in his chest. Just as he was about to get up and slink off to his tent she returned, the lyre they’d looted from the drow in the goblin camp. She sat back, balancing the it in her lap. She began plucking out a song, eyes closed, her fingers lithe over the strings. 

It wasn’t perfect—the tempo slowed sometimes as she figured out the next section and sometimes she plucked a wrong string or two. Still, it was beautiful, in a haunting sort of way. And she looked at ease, as she played—so much so that he hadn’t noticed how much she scowled regularly, how tense her shoulders were, always pulled into her body as if to protect her. 

Was this who she was before the tadpole, before the nightmare began? A pale little drow content to be free of the Underdark and pluck out pretty tunes?

“Who taught you play?” He asked, sitting up.

“No one,” she said, still playing. “That’s why I’m shit. But it makes me feel like a person, so…”

He knew that feeling, all too well. Of hanging on to any thread of his humanity, any fiber of him left that wasn’t violence or seduction. It was why he’d started his silly little embroideries. 

“You’re not bad,” he said.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything? You’re being nice. It’s weird.”

“I can be nice!”

She stared back at him doubtfully.

“I can!” He said with no small amount of outrage. She laughed at him—actually laughed. He rather liked the sound. 

He would have liked it more if it wasn’t at his expense.  

[adaines-furious-feast]

Not really 500 words but what's the author commentary behind the rest of Baron's adventuring party? Do they have a name?

They do not have a name and if anybody else has one I would much appreciate it because I have no idea.

The story behind Baron's adventuring party is I sat here with the same sheet of paper Baron has in the fic and tried to fill in the places.

I wanted to try to do something different to the Bad Kids/Rat Grinders and I was also like "ok so Baron is going to have the most misfits adventuring party because they are a weird little guy so he's not going to have first pick.

Further under cut:

Olive was the first one that came into my head and she's kind of an author, not self insert but person I can make know the things that need to be known. I also love the idea of a bard going back to the roots and being like "yeah, I'm going to tell the story of this shit in an Epic Poem, the most authoritative form of history going" so that's where Olive came from.

I think Davey was the second to come into my head because Davey Hertz is actually a character I have been writing and working with for over 10 years (in a very non-fantasy setting). So Davey is the most fleshed out character in this fic. I'd also been looking for something that wasn't cleric for the healer, just because I do think Baron would be nervous about that and trawling through alternatives having an artificer seemed like an interesting un-optimised option.

By this point I was like "are these all going to be OCs or is there someone I can drag in from the actual Fantasy High canon" which is where Bricker/Ruby came in. What happens when your sister and your older brother both go to this specific school and turn away from the god your parents follow? Well, then your paths are limited and you're gonna be pissed off about it. I think about Bricker and Cork a lot and I think he just fits so perfectly into what I wanted for a rogue. Also, I didn't want a rogue to be a little guy. Because the idea of having three little guys on the team and none being the rogue was too funny to me.

Brook I think was next. I was really on this "unoptimized train" by this point but also trying to figure out how they were going to get the rest of their party and thought just asking the teacher for options was the simplest way to do that. So what kind of barbarian gets picked last? The halfling which every single site I looked at told me should not be a barbarian.

And then there was Frayer who I think was the last I came up with even thought she is the top of my list of people. Really struggled with what kind of class I should have. Straight fighter just seemed like such an uninteresting option and I was going through the others, working out why they had chosen to come to Aguefort, and I thought that having a character choose to go purely because the Bad Kids helped them was fun, and also another connection to existing canon. I was umming and ahing about whether she should be a druid (and she might multi-class, it depends on how pissed off I get at the lack of interesting sorcerer spells) but paladin just seemed like a fun option and filled that "fighter" bit of Baron's sheet that still needed to be filled.

[jellymellydraws]

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Astarion x Dark Urge Chapter 06 Rating: E Tags: Angst, Fluff, hurt/comfort, slow burn, two guarded people fall in love so hard it makes them stupid

Chapter Summary:

Gale has some choice words for how Nettie handled their delicate tadpole condition. Rath, another druid, pulls Rose aside to ask for a favor. A lighthearted camp dinner is interrupted when Zevlor and Arabella's Parents approach with a costly request on their lips. The day's events start to weigh on Rose's thoughts.

“I can’t believe she poisoned you!”

The conversation with Nettie hadn’t quite gone as planned. ‘As planned’ being the greatest understatement of the day. Just about every plan Rose had was slowly uprooted because of this damned grove. The dwarven healer masked a poisonous root as a cure for the tadpoled party. Apparently her ask for help meant ‘kill me now, we’re doomed beyond saving.’ Thankfully, no one got hurt-- not really. Nettie felt guilty when she realized they were being sincere with their plight, and handed them the appropriate antidote. 

Even though Rose was the one who was poisoned, it was Gale fuming after the dwarf left them alone.

“Gale--” Rose tried to interject.

“Tried to put you down like a dying dog-- without as much as a whisper of consent!” Coming from Gale, she was taken aback. Rage, fear, all emotions that she saw very clearly in the others, but not yet from the wizard.

“Yeah, not really what I was expecting from a healer ,” if she couldn’t calm him down, she could at least engage and sympathize with his outburst, “at least she saw reason. She would’ve been long dead, otherwise.”

“A kindness she didn’t deserve, I assure you.” He spat as he paced in front of the lab’s entrance, “how dare she snuff out life with as much thought as snuffing out a bloody candle?!”

“Gale,” she spoke slowly, calmly, despite her brows being raised in surprise, “are you okay ?”

“OfCourseI’mNotOkay!”

The sudden lash of his words surprised the whole room, leaving only his echo behind. His face was red, dangerously close to turning blue at this rate. Even Astarion, who usually had a quip ready for their mage, was tight-lipped (even if those lips were also trying to restrain a grin in the process).

“I just-- it’s fine,” he finally sighed, running a hand through his hair, “ we’re fine, you handled it.” Another deep breath, “We live to see another day.”

“Yes, we do,” Rose nodded slowly, ensuring the movement matched the pace of his breathing, “And, we still got valuable information,” she put a gentle on his shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze, “I’m fine , Gale. Let’s get back to camp, Lae’zel needs to know what we learned here.”

“Right, thank you.” The color didn’t leave his cheeks, but his breathing calmed.

Gale left the lab with Wyll, who insisted on joining the worked-up wizard as they left the sanctum. Rose turned her attention to the table of notes and jars that Nettie left behind, seeing a buffet of information that she could take with her.

“He looked like he was about to explode,” Astarion finally released a fit of snickers.

“Let’s go easy on him for the rest of the day, hm?” Rose suggested as she plucked papers from the table and stuffed them into her bag.

“Oh, but now it would be more fun to do,” he pouted.

“How about you tease Wyll, instead? He’s new,” she smirked, looking back at him with a wink, “should be fun.”

“You’re awful , I love it.”

She rolled her eyes, returning to the contents of the lab that were interesting to her. In a jar was a parasite much like the ones they had wriggling behind their eyes. This had to be the specimen that crawled out of the Drow’s skull. She carefully placed it in her bag, ensuring it was padded on all sides to prevent damage. Once the desk had been cleared, her eyes scanned over the cadaver on the slab beside her. Nettie told them the drow was slain when Halsin realized they were being followed. They took the body back to check for signs of ceremorphosis. So, their belongings had to be somewhere nearby. If this was a scout, there had to be other information hiding on his person. After rounding the slab, she found it-- the pile of clothes gently folded and placed on a stone chair. Her fingers made quick work of the apparel, dipping into pockets and procuring a folded note.

Footsteps approached the lab, giving her a short moment to stow the parchment and stand up straight. Astarion, who she realized was standing by one of the bookshelves, also shifted his stance to a more natural pose, hiding a book behind his back. Rath appeared in the doorway, peering into the room as if looking for something before his eyes settled on Rose.

“I was asked to escort your group out of the inner sanctum,” Rath said, “is everything alright in here?”

“We were just admiring the scenery,” Astarion answered cooly, “stone gray is a bit overdone, but I think you druids make it work.”

Astarion with the quips again, well timed at that. She casually walked around the slab and approached Rath, not resisting the request to leave. She had everything she needed, and it seemed her elven friend got a parting gift for himself. As they crossed the atrium, Rose noted the child’s body was no longer on the ground. She wasn’t sure if they buried the remains as Kagha ordered, or if they returned the body to the parents. Part of her desperately cared about the answer, the other wanted to ignore it entirely.

In the interest of keeping her stomach from launching itself from her body, she chose to ignore it.

Once they cleared the stone door and crossed around the ritual circle, Rath slowed his pace. Rose did the same, glancing at him curiously, but cautiously. He was up to something. She let him guide them further away from nearby druids— away from listening ears. Something troubled him, judging by the furrow of his brow.

“If you have something to say, make it quick,” she whispered, keeping her eye on their surroundings for onlookers. Astarion, keenly aware of the situation, stood nearby as a discreet lookout, pretending to look at his nails and only turned his head if he made a face that implied he thought someone called for him.

“Look, you saw what happened in there,” Rath finally whispered, “Kagha is out of her mind . Halsin wouldn’t have let this happen.”

“Halsin isn’t here, he left her in charge,” she reminded, “if the goblins got him, he’s long dead.”

“Please, if there is even a chance that he’s still alive, find him.”

Rose took another glance at their surroundings, checking for prying ears or nosy critters. No one seemed to be paying them any mind, good. She crossed her arms over her chest, watching the desperation in Rath’s eyes as he pleaded with her. She wouldn’t answer him so quickly.

What were the facts; what did she know?

According to Nettie, it was Halsin who had been studying the tadpoles closely. There were others who had been infected, long before the nautiloid crash. In this case, Nettie was classified as a reliable informant. She had no motivation to lie to them that Rose could surmise. Supporting this, she knew a normal mindflayer tadpole would have transformed them, but they had remained unchanged. The other subject, somehow, gained powers from their tadpoles. Whatever power this was, it seemed to vary. The question then remained: why hadn’t her camp been gifted with any such powers? 

On one hand, these questions added complications to their problem, but if the subjects were tadpoled for weeks prior to their crash, then they had more time to save themselves. Hopefully.

Rath was beginning to shift uncomfortably under the unmoving, unblinking, gaze Rose held on him as she ran through everything. Finally, she closed her eyes and breathed in heavily.

“I’ll consider it,” she answered.

“You said the same to Kagha,” Rath muttered.

“Because I have other things to consider before accepting every quest presented to me. If you’re eager, you can do it yourself.”

“No. I-- okay, when can you give me an answer?”

“Tomorrow, before we leave the grove.”

“Thank you,” Rath nodded.

He continued to lead her and Astarion towards the entrance of the sanctum, where a tiefling couple shouted to the approaching trio. Rath sighed heavily, walking right up to them. Rose examined the two tieflings, who she realized bore a resemblance to the dead child. Her insides felt cold as they closed the distance. Why hasn’t anyone told the parents yet?!

“Somebody tell me what’s going on! Please!” the mother cried, “where is Arabella?!”

Rose turned her face away, hiding the involuntary wince. The unnamed discomfort she felt was harder to push away when she knew their name. Arabella. She remembered the look of fear in her eyes, when they looked at each other for a brief moment. What happened after that? Between their eye contact and her heart stopping? Her stomach turned. No, she couldn’t think about it. She wouldn’t.

“I’m sorry,” Rath’s voice was small, “there was a terrible accident.”

“What do you mean, an accident?” the father asked with an arm around his wife’s waist, holding her hand tightly.

Rath hesitated. God damns he hesitated, and she couldn’t stand the silence.

“Arabella’s dead,” Rose stated, finally facing them when she delivered the news. They looked at her with widened eyes. She pushed through everything within her that froze, every desire that wanted to keep her from saying anything further, “there’s no other way to put it.”

“No...” the mother whispered, then sobbed, “that monster!”

“You’re a monster!” a bloody face flashed in front of her, tears running down a different face. Curled strands of hair sticking to her brow. The smell of murder in the air.

Rose blinked the image away, faced with the tiefling mother in mourning again. The lump in her throat choked her, she couldn’t stay here. Without another word, she continued past the grieving parents, taking hurried steps up the path, hurrying to camp. But the images followed her.

A tiny dagger, grasped in a similarly small hand. The woman screams before the knife slashes her throat. Sputtering. Choking. Silence. Blood.

No. She forced the images away, buried them further into the depths of her mind-- likely to the same place her missing memories were hiding. She couldn’t let herself get lost in these thoughts. Couldn’t bear to see anymore. She needed a distraction, something— Astarion! In her haste, she didn’t realize he kept up with her. Small talk could help, she decided. Something. Anything.

“What kind of book did you grab?” she conjured up her half smirk, tilting her head towards the elf who walked beside her.

Astarion hummed as he inspected the cover embossed in the fine red leather.

“‘Disorders of the Nerves and Mind: A Treatise of Information,’” his nose wrinkled more as he read each word, “wouldn’t have been my first choice, it’s what I grabbed when the damned druid interrupted us. Buuuut if it’s all I have, it will have to do.”

Astarion extended the book to Rose when she held her hand out, letting her flip through the pages. A medical journal of sorts, written by a single cleric about their various treatments on the mundane and magically insane. What a cruel joke the cosmos must have been playing, to put such a thing in her path. She passed it back to him when she was done skimming.

“Let me know what you think of it,” she casually commented, “I might be interested in reading it when you’re done.”

“If it’s as boring as its title, you’ll be reading it long before I’m done with it.”

The view from their camp was perfect. High enough above the grove to see into the inner sanctum, part the tieflings’ refuge, and the immediate wilderness outside the gates. Very few opportunities to be caught off guard. Shadowheart did well to find this spot, she commended. 

As expected of someone who was a trained warrior, Lae’zel set up the new tents and supplies perfectly. She even set up a ‘command center’ for Rose to review their travel plans. It looked like a tiny war camp. Rose could work with this, easily.

Gale was eager to show off what he could do when he had more than fish on the menu. The ingredients from the storehouse were appreciated and quickly being cut up for dinner. While the stew cooked over the fire, Wyll regaled the camp with his monster hunter stories, acting out climatic battles that he effortlessly won. 

Shadowheart and Lae’zel were with Rose, going over the map, notes, and information that they acquired throughout the day. The information, she knew, was going to be outlandish and hard to swallow, but Lae’zel listened. Closely. Concerned. The gith’s brows furrowed as she scanned her eyes over one of the druid’s research journals.

“Modified Ghaik tadpoles,” Lae’zel bristled, “all the more reason we need to get to a creche.”

“So they can strap us to tables and run their own experiments on us? You would suggest that,” Shadowheart baited, smiling smugly when Lae’zel snarled at her.

No, not tonight. They needed to focus .

“You said there’s protocol to this sort of thing-- what do you suppose protocol for an abnormal tadpole would be?” Rose redirected the conversation, needing to keep things productive. Her eyes were fixed on the map, considering the other quests put in front of her that day-- like potentially rescuing the druid, Halsin.

“Normally protocol calls for immediate purification using a Zaithisk,” she paused, considering something. Her face twisted with discontent as another option occurred to her, “or they would eradicate us. It would be too risky to leave us alive without knowing how to purify these new tadpoles. Especially if there are more out there. Tsk’va.”

Tsk’va, was right. Rose drew a circle around the Selune Temple’s location.

“We can’t go walking up to a group of gith with an unknown threat, not without information they could use,” Rose determined. She tapped the end of her charcoal stick to the newly circled spot, “this is where Halsin went to get more information about the tadpoles. His notes indicate that there are probably others with the same tadpoles in this camp. We’ll pose as one of their own and see if we can speak to anyone in charge-- someone who could have answers on where they are coming from and what we can expect.” 

Lae’zel glared at the map, glancing between the Selune Temple and the last known location of her kin. Behind that hardened face, she could see the growing fear. Rose sympathized with the warrior. Thrust into unknown situations, with even fewer known circumstances before them. While the human may feel alien to her past, Lae’zel was simply alien to this world. It had to be a lot to take in.

“The way I see it, we have few options,” Rose concluded, her commanding voice relaxing slightly as she spoke directly to Lae’zel, “knowing more about what we’re dealing with is the only advantage we can give ourselves.”

Lae’zel cursed under her breath again, turned on her heel, and disappeared into her tent. If that flap was a door, Rose would suspect it’d be slammed shut.

“It isn’t too late to abandon her,” Shadowheart suggested, adding a mark to her map-- likely matching the one on the table, “let her go search for her kin if that’s what she wants so badly.”

“No, she’s upset about this fucked up situation the same as the rest of us. She knows as well as you and I that we’re better off working together,” she gave the cleric a stern look, “I don’t care what you have against the gith, we need each other. Understood?”

The half elf pursed her lips, but nodded quietly. 

“Good.”

Lae’zel didn’t emerge from her tent until Gale called everyone for dinner, which featured a hearty meat and vegetable stew.

“My compliments to the chef,” Wyll declared, clapping a hand to the wizard’s shoulder. The stew almost sloshed out of his bowl from the impact, but he still grinned appreciatively.

“Well go on then,” Astarion smirked, stirring his bowl, “give him your compliments.”

“Ah, it’s a figure of speech, my very literal friend.”

The smirk on Astarion’s face said it all. He was playing with the Blade. Oh wait, she did tell him to tease the new guy didn’t she? She grinned mischievous watching the show unfold.

“I had hoped you could come up with something better than ‘compliments to the chef’ after the way you tell your stories. No worries, I can show you how it’s done,” the elf leaned towards the two gentlemen, “Gale, darling ,” his smirk widened, flashing a hint of teeth, “the stew smells divine , were you a professional chef back in Waterdeep?”

Oh he was good . The wizard flushed, chuckling bashfully. Wyll chuckled, then cleared his throat for the challenge before him.

“Gale, this stew can find itself in a king’s banquet,” the Blade grinned towards Astarion, seeking his approval of his performance.

“Not bad, getting better,” Astarion hummed with amusement, “but I’ll say this stew is so heavenly it can resurrect the dead.”

“If you’re all going to start inhaling each other’s mouths, please use one of our new tents,” Shadowheart’s teased, feigning disgust on her face.

Gale’s entire face was as red as the stew. Wyll and Astarion had a good laugh, seeing him shrink between them. Rose couldn’t help but add to the laughter filling the camp. The atmosphere tonight was vastly different from their first night at camp. Maybe it was Wyll bringing a burst of optimism to the group, or maybe it was the relief that they haven’t shown any signs of sprouting tentacles from their maws. Regardless, it was welcomed.

Dinner continued with more conversation, sharing what everyone did back in their respective homes. Wyll, the Blade of Frontiers. Gale, a prodigal wizard of Waterdeep. Lae’zel of Creche Kliir. And now, she knew Astarion was a Balduran Magistrate. Rose wasn’t feeling in the sharing mood, not if it risked worrying the whole group about her lost memories. Not tonight. She made an excuse to go back to the command tent, but encouraged the rest to keep enjoying their night. Astarion gave her a knowing look as she walked around his side of the fire. A look which she ignored.

Rose sat in a stool by the makeshift table. Perfect spot to view the entirety of their camp and write in her newly acquired journal. There was a lot running through her mind after this day. Between the death of two innocents, tadpole revelations, and even more disturbing visions, she finally had a moment to process it all. The thoughts flowed from her head onto the page. The approaching sound of footsteps didn’t stop her from writing, she could tell exactly who it was from their gait.

“Not up for telling the camp about the life you were ripped out of?” Rose asked.

“Not particularly,” Shadowheart answered, grabbing another stool to join her, “seeing as you slinked away, I figured you would understand privacy.”

Rose hummed thoughtfully, continuing her writing. Shadowheart watched the others share stories and laughter from the campfire. At some point Gale’s voice could be heard enthusiastically explaining the difference between wizards and sorcerers. The tidbits that she picked up on seemed to bring a small smile to the half-elf’s face. Perhaps she wanted to share more than she admitted, but for one reason or another she was holding back. Rose wondered if it was a matter of trust, caution, or necessity. 

Well, now was as good a time as any to test that out, wasn’t it?

“It’s not so much that I’m trying to be private,” she broke the silence between them. Shadowheart looked over to the human, her face begging the question without needing to utter a single word. Rose continued, “I just couldn’t share anything if I wanted to.”

“How do you mean?” Shadowheart pressed.

“I don’t remember my life before this. Can’t really share something I don’t know anything about.”

For a moment, Shadowheart fiddled with her hands, circling a spot in her palm with a thumb. Rose noticed a small scar, a perfectly round mark. A note was marked in a different page of her journal.

“Seems we are in the same boat— well, camp, I suppose,” Shadowheart finally said, “I…was on an assignment from my goddess. There were more of us, but I’m the only one left. This mission was crucial, so we volunteered to have our memories suppressed.”

“To avoid compromising your mission and anyone involved in your organization,” Rose commented. Not a question. An understanding. She closed the journal and turned her full attention to the woman beside her, “does this mission have anything to do with that prism you grabbed from your pod?”

Shadowheart nodded, hesitantly. Still looking at the other campers.

“I won’t pry. I…have a sense that I’d be the same way, if it was that important,” she promised, “hells, maybe I’m on my own assignment and I’ve just…forgotten.”

Shadowheart scoffed, finally looking over to Rose who chuckled at her own misfortune.

“You’re turning out to be an understanding ally…in time, I might be willing to tell you more,” Shadowheart smiled, turning her nose to the air in her usual attempt to seem holier than thou. But the sincerity was still there.

Even surrounded by walls and guards, there was wisdom in being cautious. The conversation around the fire was beginning to quiet down. Watches were being decided for the night. The tension between the druids and tieflings warranted that much. Speaking of tieflings, a small group of them approached the camp. Zevlor, leading the charge, with Arabella’s parents following behind him.

‘And there goes the lighthearted atmosphere.’

“Zevlor,” Rose nodded to him as he approached. She stood up as a sign of respect, speaking to him across from her ‘desk.’

“Rose,” he nodded back, briefly nodding to Wyll and the others who started to gather around, “I hate to ask more of you, but, we’ve been put in a rather…uncomfortable position,” Zevlor sighed. The parents behind him clutched each others’ hands.

Rose understood immediately, this had to do with Kagha. What else? She grabbed the journal off the crate and opened to one of its marked up pages. The list of favors, requests, and hopes were growing. Another one was going to be added.

“Kagha has gone too far,” he began. Yep, there it was, as she guessed. “She killed a child— “

“She needs to pay .” The mother’s words spat with venom. Her husband rubbed her arm, trying to soothe her.

“Where am I fitting into this picture?” Rose asked, lowering her journal to maintain eye contact with the other leader.

“You were able to get close to Kagha. No other outside has managed that. It’s a lot, I know, but it would be a great service if you could convince her to stop the ritual.” Zevlor kept his composure before her. One commander to another. Business. This type of engagement suited her, she realized.

The mother glared at Zevlor’s back, but she held her tongue. Interesting. 

“She’s given your people a tenday before the ritual is complete, that gives you time to prepare,” Rose informed, ignoring Wyll’s expression of distaste at the cold deadline. Heroes can be so hasty, it seemed.

“As long as those goblins are a threat, we won’t make it far. Most of the people here are not fighters, they are civilians. ”

“How many could there possibly be?” Astarion asked, hand on his hip and hand circling the air, “a couple dozen, surely, you can handle?”

“An army.” Zevlor deadpanned, “Could be over a hundred.”

“A hundred?!” the elf shrieked.

Rose pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing with frustration. Gods he was right. Her group was already having issues in how they were going to resolve the goblins for the sake of travel. An army? They weren’t equipped to handle an army.

“If you can convince Kagha to stop the ritual, we would be indebted to you. More than we already are,” Zevlor continued without missing a beat, “we need to stay here until it’s safe. Whatever means is necessary to fulfill that arrangement.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” she promised, jotting the new request along with the others.

Briefly, she gauged the reaction of her camp. Lae’zel and Shadowheart held stone faces, not reacting in any obvious way to the conversation. Gale and Wyll looked concerned, with the latter holding a pleading look in his eyes only a hero could have. Astarion winced, his face twisting like a piece of lemon was pressed to his tongue.

Zevlor nodded in thanks and turned to leave. The tiefling parents followed after him.

Rose took a seat, reviewing the growing list from her, adding additional notes as she considered each one’s prospects. Desperate footsteps quickly approached. A small pouch fell onto her journal with a metalic thud.

“Kill the bitch and it’s all yours,” the mother, standing over the crate with a fire burning in her eyes. Her husband was quickly running up behind her.

At the other end of camp, Zevlor was still leaving. Smart man, wanting no part in this. A conspiracy to assassinate the current druid leader in this already tense climate? He’d be a fool to suggest a thing. Rose wondered if the parents were invited to join him when he walked to her camp or if he simply allowed them to follow.

“You can’t be serious,” the husband turned his wife to face him, “that is all we have.”

“It doesn’t matter! Nothing matters! Not without our little girl.” Her voice began to quiver.

Rose quietly poured out the contents to count them as the parents bickered. Did she have parents back home who would throw their entire worth at a stranger to avenge her death? Was there anyone who missed her back home— wherever that was? Was the woman she thought of earlier her mother? Was that her hand, holding the knife? Gods, she hoped not. As the questions stirred within her head, not a single piece had counted.

Arabella’s eyes flashed at her from the shine of the coins. The argument continued, but their voices began to fall away as Rose focused on those scared little eyes.

The child shaking with fear as the snake’s tongue tickled her cheek and slithered down from its perch. Taunting the child. Daring the child. Rose smirked, an idea forming. She glanced at the exit behind her, slightly blocked by her own form. Ah, well the tiefling was a small thing, she’d only need a little bit of wiggle room to get her hopes up. Smoothly, she shifted her weight, giving her that bit of space. The child noticed, innocent eyes widened, tears ready to fall. Ever so slightly, Rose tilted her head to the opening.

‘Go on,’ her mind whispered.

No.

‘It’s okay.’

Stop!

‘You’ll make it.’ 

It’s a trap!

‘If you can outrun the viper, that is.’

The stool clattered loudly behind her. All conversation, silenced by Rose, who now stood with her fists closed around the pile of a mothers’ desperate plea. Her head pounded, stomach twisted. All at once, the world threatened to fall away.

“Keep it,” Rose swiped the coins back into their pouch and pushed it to the other end of the crate.

The mother fell to her knees, hands clasped together desperately. She refused to look at her, focused more on  steadying her breathing and keeping her eyes closed to help with that. The mother’s voice hitched.

“Please—“

“I’ll handle it,” Rose interrupted, darkly. She opened her eyes when her impending tears were contained. With resolve, she turned her sights to the pleading woman. Then, she looked to the husband, and nodded to them reassuringly, “Go. This conversation never happened.”

The mother opened her mouth to speak, but Rose raised her hand. Eyes narrowed, warningly. The message came across, no words were spoken, but the thanks read clearly on their faces before they took their coin and fled the camp.

The silence weighed heavily in the air. No one dared utter a word. No one dared to breathe. 

Not until Rose did first.

“Shadowheart.”

“Yes?” The cleric stood from her seat, instantly.

“Names and descriptions of everyone who are loyal to Kagha,” she turned to a blank page in her journal, slowly uprighting her stool as she sat back down. Charcoal pressed to the page. “now. ”

Next Chapter >>

[acolyterose]

@senatusstarters​ location: Pyramid notes: open to druids, do with this what you will kiss kiss. call this post senate meeting The anger hadn’t gone away, in fact if nothing else it felt like it was taking over everything else. It filled in the cracks where his joy had been rupted, flooded the ravines that his grief had carved for him. Atlas made space for it, relished in it, and found that his magic came easiest when he was expressing it. Fire was the druid’s natural attunement, and under his rage it flourished and fanned out. Growing up the way that he had this feeling wasn’t in short supply, it had always been there simmering beneath the surface but Atlas had gotten good at repressing it. Octavian taught him to use everything in his arsenal, to let all that hate bubble to the surface, let it surge and let it roar. 

One of the archdruid’s, Nettelia, had used her magic to create sentries around the pyramid, golems of various or fused elements that she had used transference to imbue with a limited, protective sentience. Some had been created to assist with training; they were resistant to elemental magic, durable, and aggressive when necessary. He’d train with other druids or against them, another fight was coming, so everyday he battered his body and broke his bones and everyday someone from the temple healed him so he could start again. 

The centre of the pyramid had been designed to take a beating, flames littered it now and Atlas drew from them, drew the fire towards his fists, a protective membrane between his skin and the flames. Parts of his clothes were scorched and burned but that wasn’t anything new at this point. Inspired by Octavian, Atlas would never come close to achieving what his mentor could but that wouldn’t stop him from emulating the phoenix whenever possible. Compressed air, higher levels of oxygen, complete combustion. Orange flames flared blue and took a lion’s shape over each fist before he rushed forward again. 

The golems that had laboured around previously had been broken down, smashed to pieces as the last of the flames died on the scorched floor of the pyramid. Split knuckles and broken bones, Atlas sat against one of the columns as he waited for a medic or a healer or either Octavian or Nettelia to come by again. The smoke that might have filled the chamber filtered out through the makeshift ventilation system. He’d left his phone in the locker room somewhere, his thoughts were still rampant and his pulse matched them but despite the exhaustion he felt all that anger hadn’t gone anywhere. It felt fed, satiated in a way if that even made any sense, “How long do you think we have?” Atlas asked, Octavian had just told him to be ready, this time he intended to be. “You know, before shit hits the fan.”

[blackjackkent]

Briefly stopped in to talk to the healer Nettie who the tieflings recommended us to; she's one of the druids and apparently works with Halsin when he's at home. Maybe she knows about tadpoles.

"I see you. Just give me a moment."

Hector is good at waiting and stood very patiently while she finished treating the injured bird.

(Side note that I really enjoy the rendering of all the animals in this game so far.)

Nettie, unsurprisingly, looked more than a little alarmed when Hector told her what he needed help with.

"A tadpole? A *mind flayer* tadpole?"

"You know of them? Can you help me?" Hector can't keep the urgency out of his voice, and he sees Shadowheart edge forward slightly next to him, watching the healer intently.

"I..." The young woman hesitates, looking between the four sets of eyes staring at her. "I'll do what I can. Come, follow me. I might be able to help."

They follow her into a closed off back area, on which a dead drow is lying stretched on a slab of stone.

"This one had the same problem as you. Attacked us in the woods together with some goblins," Nettie says grimly. "Tadpole crawled out of his head soon after."

Hector looks at the dead body with distinct unease. "The drow and I have the same kind of parasite?"

"Seems so," Nettie says with a rueful laugh. "Gave Master Halsin a right start." She frowns, turns away and begins to rummage on a nearby table. "It's why he joined the adventurers on their expedition. To find out what was happening. A pity you got me instead of him. He understands these things - studied them. Still, we have options."

She turns around, gripping an uncomfortably sharp-looking stick in one hand.

All of a sudden Hector is regretting starting this whole conversation.

"You don't have to be here for this," Nettie says to his companions.

Astarion lounges back on his heels with a slight smirk, clearly glad not to be standing at the front of the group.

"Please, don't mind me. I'll just watch."

Nettie nods agreeably, looks back towards Hector, and gestures with the stick. "All right, let's see what we can do."

Hector raises a hand and takes a step backwards. "What's that plant? Will it help?" he asks warily. Visions of an attempt at woodlands surgery are going through his head and he's not sure he likes the idea much more than becoming a mindflayer.

Nettie shrugs noncommittally. "It might, but first things first. Tell me about your symptoms. Have you noticed anything strange happening?"

Perhaps his companions might be less forthcoming about this - but I've decided that if Caden's defining trait was trust, Hector's is honesty. Open truth at all times. -5 to deception (not literally, but in practice. :P ) So he explains exactly what's been happening.

"I can merge my mind with anyone else that's infected," he says bluntly.

Nettie's eyebrows lift. "Victims can identify each other? Not that the others know they're victims of course... How'd you pick up the parasite? Halsin was desperate to find where all this was happening."

"On a mind flayer ship," Hector responds promptly. "I was kidnapped and infected."

Nettie swallows. "A mind flayer ship? But Master Halsin was sure--" She trails off, looks down at the stick in her hand for a moment. "Look, you've been straight with me, so I'll be straight with you. You're dangerous. If you transform here, we're all dead." She pauses, then puts the stick into her belt. "But you seem like a good soul," she continues firmly, looking up again to meet his eyes. "You deserve a chance to save yourself."

She pulls out a narrow vial of green liquid and extends it in his direction. "This is a vial of wyvern poison," she says soberly. "Swear to me you'll swallow it if you feel *any* symptoms."

A chill runs through Hector's blood and he goes very still. "I thought you could cure me?" he says shakily. "What about that branch of yours?"

Nettie looks at him steadily, unblinking. "The thorn?" she says flatly. "Coated in a fatal toxin. It was a last resort, in case I couldn't trust you." Her eyes flick away, then back to him. "I don't have a cure. Only a way out." She turns the vial slowly in her fingertips, watching the torchlight glint off it. "I'm sorry for misleading you, but I had to be sure you weren't a threat before I told you everything."

She extends her hand again, pushing the vial in his direction. "Now, do I have your word or not?"

He swallows, reaches out and takes the vial. Much as it chills him to think of it - she's right. If it comes to it...this is the easier way out.

"I swear," he says.

She seems to relax slightly as he tucks the vial into his pack. "You know, I've spent my life treating folk and never once saw a mind flayer infection," she says thoughtfully, her eyes sweeping over him from head to foot. "Then suddenly there's dozens of you, maybe more. Master Halsin and I were tracking them, studying them, trying to figure out what the hells was going on. Because you should all be changing - there should be a small army of mind flayers out there! But you're not. Weird powers aside, you seem perfectly...normal."

Hector pauses halfway through the motion of turning away, and looks back at her questioningly. This is new information, not something anyone with vague knowledge of the situation has yet mentioned. "What do you mean, 'should' be changing?"

Nettie shrugs uncertainly. "Mind flayers reproduce by infecting someone with their parasite. Seven gruesome days later, the victim transforms and a new mind flayer is born." She gestures towards his face. "The thing in your skull, though? It's different to anything in our records. It's one of their worms, for sure, but this one gives you powers - telepathic connections. And it doesn't turn you into one of them. Not yet, anyhow."

Hector raises his eyebrows, feeling a spark of hope at this information. "That's...good news?" he asks cautiously.

Nettie frowns, clearly frustrated herself with the lack of certainty. "Could be, but there's a lot we don't know. Infected - folks like you - have been converging on an old temple of Selune, and I've no idea why. When Master Halsin heard the adventurers were heading that way, he saw a chance to get answers. Joined on the spot." She pauses, looks down. "Whatever he found there, he didn't make it back."

A temple of Selune. A place where his brethren likely once stood, now corrupted by this same infection. Hector shudders - but in the back of his mind, the seed of hope has been planted, and it centers around this man Halsin. "You think he's still alive?" he asks.

"I think so. I hope so," Nettie says. "I've sent birds to find him, but they can't get close without goblins trying to shoot them down. You, though?" She squints at him. "You're one of them - technically speaking, I mean. They won't kill someone carrying their parasite. If you can find Halsin and get him out of there, we can discover what he learned. And perhaps he can save your life. How's that sound?"

It sounds like the closest thing he's heard to a plan since he woke up on the nautiloid. "All right. I'll find Halsin."

"Thank you," Nettie says fervently. "It would mean everything to the grove. To me. I wish I could tell you more, but only those adventurers know what happened out there. All I can say for sure is they all went to the old temple of Selune and Master Halsin didn't make it back."

She pauses, then leans forward a little. "Good luck out there. And if things start to go bad - remember the vial. Remember your oath."

[karysartist]

The Volkovs (I)

Emily’s sightseeing expedition through Avalon included a trip to some of the notable local historical landmarks and the remains of an ancient Celtic settlement - one of many dotting the area surrounding our new home.

‘This town has a lot of history,’ Emily told me as we trudged past a pair of standing stones. They stood facing one another on either side of the road running to the left of us. 

‘I’ve been reading up about it at the library. It's quite the rabbit hole to dive into.’ 

I could tell from her look that she was hoping I’d ask her for details. 

‘So what did you find out?’ I asked. 

Emily proceeded to launch into a lengthy explanation about the Bavarians who lived in the area during the Middle Ages who had laid the foundations of the current town. 

‘But the history here goes back way before then, to the middle and late iron ages. That was like 900 - 550 BC. During this period the Celts lived here. They were an offshoot of the Hallstatt Celts; some of the oldest tribes of Celtic peoples. They were the first groups to migrate and build a settlement here. These stone ruins you see around the edges of town belonged to them.’ 

‘One of the most fascinating things the Celts left behind were their myths and legends. Stories like the Tale of the Cursed Brothers. If you didn’t know, it's a local folktale children here are told to scare them. Apparently. I learned about it from a librarian I spoke to yesterday.’ 

It was this tale she told me of next, at my request. I had a feeling she was going to explain it anyway; that or one of the other myths she’d read about. 

Happily, Emily gave me a rundown of the legend as we meandered past a series of hollow stone cylinders which dotted the grassy plains; disorganized sentries which followed the line of encroaching trees. 

I gazed out into the faded, gloomy depths of the forest as I listened to her story. 

This is how she told it: 

‘A council of powerful druids and tribal chiefs ruled the community of Celts. Unfortunately, they were very cruel and selfish. They brought the tribe into many unnecessary conflicts, leading them on an endless path of bloodshed. They treated the women and children in the town to horrific abuses. And they punished mercilessly anyone who tried to stand up to them. 

The group of Celts settled in the area around Avalon to brave the coming winter.

Enter the two protagonists of this Legend. One day soon after the tribe's arrival two young warriors named Issaut and Imurela went out hunting together, searching for food and medicine for Issaut’s family. For hours they looked and looked up and down the forest but found nothing useful. 

Imurela (who was a well versed healer) finally spotted an abundance of useful herbs growing within a beautiful clearing. 

As they neared the clearing a bear crawled out from the shadows of a tree nearby. The bear was huge, hulking and territorial. The hunters kept going anyway. They would willingly kill it and take its meat back to feed the tribe if they could. 

So, they confronted and fought the bear.

The battle was brutal. Imurela nearly lost an arm defending Issaut, and in return Issaut fought off grievous wounds to fell the beast and end the miserable fight.

The entity which silently observed them during their fight was impressed by their bravery. Afterward it approached them in the form of a tall and proud, golden haired man. 

The ‘friend,’ as he called himself was there to make them an offer. He offered them an end to the years of hunger and misfortune. A way for them to forge a new path for their tribe. 

The brothers thought he was a madman. Then he gave them a demonstration of his powers. He healed both of the two brother’s wounds with no more than a flick of his hand, leaving them invigorated and strong like they’d never felt before. 

The man offered them a deal. In exchange for the boons he could provide them with, they would pledge the allegiance of themselves and all their descendants to the man, worshiping him forevermore as their god. 

The two brothers were suspicious and already suspected the man’s true nature. However he informed them, ‘I foresee years of tyranny for your tribe - never ending tyranny which will lead to your tribe's eventual destruction. You can allow that, if it is your wish. Or you can take the lesser of two evils - a bargain with me, and forge a new future for yourselves and your loved ones. Make a sacrifice yourselves so the ones you care about most may have a future.’ 

The demon elected to give them a month to make up their minds. On the eve of the next full moon the brothers came back to him and they formed a fateful pact. Issaut and Imurela pledged their souls and those of their future children in exchange for the power they needed to take the tribe for themselves. 

Having completed their bargain with him, the brothers returned to the settlement to challenge the tribal druids and their warriors. 

No one thought they stood a chance that night. The elders ordered the brothers restrained and imprisoned. But the two men fought back. They each had superhuman strength, speed, and skill with their spears. Imurela could predict the attacks of the people he fought against and Issaut could disappear and reappear at will effortlessly.

Not only that, they seemed practically invincible in battle. They were immune to pain and tireless. They challenged and fought sixteen of the tribe’s strongest warriors, groups of them at a time. The two brothers would not be felled. When no more warriors would face them they confronted the elders and made them pay for their sins. 

With the elders dead, the remaining warriors bent their knees in submission. 

It was simple for the two to proclaim themselves leaders once the fight was over. In fact, it was practically done for them by their people. The tribe was theirs now.

The others in the tribe would from that day forward believe the pair were blessed by the gods. It was a lie the brothers allowed them to think.  

From that day on there they ruled the tribe fairly and justly, as best as they were able. Issaut’s family recovered in a couple weeks. The tribe flourished and grew, supported by trading with Roman and later Bavarian and Slavic peoples. The brothers were blessed with an unnaturally long life and they hardly aged at all over the next decades, which further solidified their deity-like status among their people. They became local legends. 

Issaut was a warrior, and Imurela became a druid. They worked and thought differently. This was their strength, but in time it also became their greatest weakness. 

Over those years Issaut and Imurela had plenty of disagreements. They saw different visions for the tribe’s future: Imurela wanted them to form alliances with other nearby tribes, while Isaut thought they should conquer or subjugate any not under their rule. The disagreement over the principles of ruling created a rift between them. 

Imurela in particular grew increasingly discontented. He eventually became convinced his brother would lead the people of the tribe to their downfall with the choices he was making for its future. 

Imurela summoned the demon again in private and expressed these feelings. The demon claimed that he could take his brother's power for himself - if he could win against him in a fair fight. 

Imurela, though a great warrior, had never been a match for Issaut in combat. Because he knew he would lose a duel between them, he decided on a different approach. 

Imurela lured Issaut out into the woods and stabbed him in the back with a dagger coated with a specially crafted poison. But Issaut fought back. He took the dagger from Imurela and cut him with it. Following their fast and brutal altercation, they both died from the poison coursing through their veins and their fate was sealed.

The demon was furious at the outcome and decided they had both failed him. It cursed their spirits to become twisted deities of the woods, separate urban legends each in their own right. Issaut, the Faceless One, and Inurela the Deceiver.  They’ve been wandering the woods as haunted spirits ever since -’ 

‘Hey, what the -’

A woman had grabbed Emily’s arm. She was haggard and old. I was close enough to Emily to smell her overpowering perfume and sweat. She held Emily’s arm in a vice-like grip. 

Emily attempted to pull her arm away. The woman was stronger than she looked, but she let go as fast as she’d grabbed her and took a couple steps back. 

‘Do not speak of them,’ she hissed. ‘It brings bad luck - and perhaps worse things.’ 

Emily frowned at her. ‘Is-’ 

The old woman pressed a finger to my sister's lips to shush her. ‘Do not even speak of their names, child! Please!’ 

Emily apologized and the woman did too, appearing a little embarrassed with herself. We both went off on our own way. It was one of the first indications I would have that the people of Avalon were a bit of a superstitious lot. 

There was also the limping homeless guy with haunted eyes I met the first time I visited the town weeks earlier. He kept insisting that the town was cursed and screamed some nonsensical curses when I didn’t react to his words. 

Avalon was an eerie place, in its own unique way. 

‘I could discuss the history Celtic peoples here for hours,’ Emily declared once we’d put some distance between ourselves and the old woman. ‘They’re such a fascinating culture; so mysterious, complex and so many other things!’ 

She must have noticed I looked preoccupied because she switched her attention over to me. 

‘How are you feeling about things, anyway? Do you like the town?’ She asked hopefully.

‘No.’ I said. ‘What’s there to like?’ 

‘Oh come on, it’s beautiful,’ Emily cried, gesturing around her at the slopes and steep hills of deep green rising up past the town. 

‘I hoped it would be a little warmer,’ I mumbled. ‘Why is it always so cold around here?’ 

Emily rubbed her shoulders in acknowledgement. ‘It’ll be better in the summer’, she said. 

‘It’ll be worse during winter,’ I’d countered, and Emily pouted. 

After we finished touring the local ruins, Emily made me take another trip through town with her. She drove me through streets filled with colorful and majestic houses, some of which were built against the steep foothills of nearby mountains. Emily wanted to show me around town, sharing with me the best restaurants, bakeries and cafes. She took me to the big library, the busy Italian Plaza, and then the medieval church. She was near desperate to prove how nice the town was. 

‘It’ll be better here,’ she said, nudging me by the arm. ‘It will. We’ve both got an opportunity for a fresh start.’ 

She must have noticed I wasn’t really listening to her. ‘What are you thinking?’ She asked. 

‘About our father,’ I told her. ‘I miss him.’  

‘I miss them both,’ she murmured. ‘Mom and dad.’ I felt her wrap an arm around my shoulders and tug me closer. 

‘Come on Tristrian. Give this place a chance. Please?’ 

After a moment I relented. ‘I’ll be fine. You should focus on yourself. On your degree. Getting accepted into Samara University was a big deal!’ 

Emily smiled at me slightly. ‘I will. But I want to see you do the same thing. You have to try to get a fresh start here.’ 

I nodded. I tried to put some resolve in my voice as I affirmed my commitment to making something better of my life. 

I have no idea if Emily bought my act. I felt like acting like I cared was all I could manage at the moment. I wasn’t quite ready to let myself feel emotions properly again. 

After a couple of hours of touring and a light lunch at Emily’s new favorite cafe in town, I made an excuse about meeting my uncle back at home. She looked like she was about to protest, and I was relieved when she decided not to. 

She hugged me tight and ruffled my hair. 

‘Call me, okay? Regularly. Like once a week, at least,’ she said. ‘You know how much of a nightmare I’ll make life for you if you don't.’ 

‘Sure,’ I said, tiredly. ‘Of course.’ 

She continued to eye me for a long moment before returning to her car. 

Emily turned to look back at me before driving away. Her face was one of concern, her gaze filled with unspoken words. 

We were both pretending to be okay, I realized. Only Emily was much better at it than me.

I tried my best to smile. She smiled sadly back. 

[nicheknowledge]

“Do you regret it?” Nakina asks. “Letting Kagha live?”

They’re in one of the cities’ few fields. After spending days in her old home, she figured the sun and distance from the cities’ sewers would do him some good. Wyll, Shadowheart, Astarion, and Laezel went to search for Ansur. Jaheira and Minsc are on their own mission recruiting forces while she, Gale, Karlach, and Halsin rest at camp. Camping outside of their tavern room is enough of an excursion after yesterday. 

Halsin eyes her, despite their flirtatious start, they never really went anywhere. It’s as though the more he got to know her, the more he decided to keep his space. And even though she shouldn’t blame him for that, it irks her. 

“Killing is too often used as a solution. She was doing what she thought was right for those she cared about. One could hardly blame the owlbear for protecting her cub.”

Ozzy chases after Scratch to Karlach’s goading. It feels like a lifetime ago discovering his mother’s blood and bones. 

“Orin cared about Bhaal.” It wasn’t meant to provoke, her silver tongue transfigures to lead as she tries not to rub the dried blood behind her ear. 

“That she did,” Halsin answers lightly, his large hands whittling away at something wooden and small. She had fantasized before how they would feel holding her, clutching her, fondling. Would he be the gentle giant or the wild bear? It was something she brushed away when she forced Gale to live. Gale and his awkward charm and tender heart, who gave as much as his orb loved to take, who swam in her wild magic and loved her chaos and all. And yet she remembered Halsin’s hands when he made his proposition. 

How she once taught that the druid leader could heal something in her, his determination, a stalwart light in the Shadowland’s endless dark.

“Did you ever proposition me?” Nakina asks. Needing to know if the healer always thought her incurable, if even when she was stranger to herself, her sister knew her. 

Halsin’s brow furrows. “I believe we established a different path for our connection in the Shadowlands.”

Nakina smiles humorlessly. “There are so many paths. I often forget which of them I’ve already walked and with whom.” That stupid girl. Her favorite part to eat had always been the heart. Her tail flicks behind her in unleashed irritation. 

“What troubles you, friend?” 

“What doesn’t?” She jokes too plainly. “I apologize for what Orin did to you because of me.”

She had chosen to kill Orin in this life after speaking with Kressa Bonedaughter. Hearing what was done to her had flayed her pride, heart, and soul. She had lost something and knew who took it from her. Saverok’s needy waif was bound to be bloodied by her blade. It wasn’t the Urge speaking then, just the cause and effect of the world they lived in. 

Taking Halsin was another step out of line that the changeling had trodden and danced over. 

“What was it that you told me of blame? Don’t shoulder what isn’t yours to carry. Thank you, but her actions are not the fault of yours.”

She hums. Her father’s bloody palm in the shape of her hand marks so many walls in this city, there were years when they marked a girl’s blonde hair like a doily. Orin is hers. Her sister, her mess, her victim. 

She would’ve made you a beautiful sacrifice, she doesn’t say. She only remembers stupid things, so it makes sense that she’d remember Orin’s artistry. There are faded finger painted murals under the city made from decades old blood.

“She was my sister.” 

“So she was.”