#no longer you is durge coded

[sledgehammer-to-a-discoball]

[luinen-bluewater]

For the Ask Game: 3, 11 and 12 pls! ❤️

Hey <3 thanks for asking!

3) What song describes your OC? I thought that was and easy question but choosing only one song was pretty difficult instead. The winner is "Specter" by Saint Mesa because, I mean: "I've been a pretender I've been a mirage a lie at the center a slow sabotage" but actually all this song's lyrics are so accurate. It fits so well with Tino, especially with his in "In Another Life" version, the brilliant au fanfic that the lovely @headraline is writing, that it's almost scary. Honorable mention to "Maybe I" by Des Rocs though, bc it's so durgeTino-coded I might scream: "Am I, still waiting like a lamb to the slaughter does your God believe in you?"

11) What was your inspiration for your OC? I created Tino years ago for a play by chat rpg I'm no longer playing on, he used to be one of the few healers in an witch coven who adored an evil goddess, so I mean, converting him into a durge came quite natural I guess. I wanted a physically weak and mentally twisted character that used magic in an unconventional way and that wasn't actually really evil, but that's been manipulated and trapped in a cult for so long that he was eventually starting to lose track of himself.

12) Does your OC interact with other people's OC? If so, who's their best OC friend? Idk if that counts, but me and @headraline have a shared OC, Shael Sadalhar, which is Tino's natural mother (and as a matter of fact Shael's much more headraline's OC than mine)

[animentality]

Dunno how you feel about song recommendations, but there’s one that I found to be very Durge coded. Possibly before the tadpole and maybe directed towards Enver:

Disappear - Karliene

“Lend me close to you, my candle in the gloom. Are we light enough, to save this love?”

“I know I drift away, when darkness comes to play. But don’t give up, on our faded love.”

“If you’re no longer here, I’m scared I’ll disappear. Into the land of darkness, and emptiness, and loneliness.”

It feels very resist dark urge to me.

This honestly reminds me of the poem from Lenore...whose tragic, lonely love story does in fact parallel Durgetash, but you didn't hear it from me.

The silence stretches on - I'm all alone. / Please, can I hold your hands, for just a while?' 

How can I trust? How will I ever know? / How can I show myself, the darkest me?

These empty sheets are all that's left of you. / The last of all the thoughtless gifts you gave.

There is a light in every living thing. / It's crawling t'wards the surface to survive.

[ceruleanskyz]

I need yall to hear me out cause No Longer You from Epic the musical is ABSOLUTELY Durge coded.

Now, the way I originally heard it, and the way that fits with my Durge, is that the singer is actually Withers. Durge is desperately trying to make sense of his fragmented memories, that’s the whole reason why he needs so badly to get back to Baldurs Gate, and he asks Withers for help.

I think though rather than the way it is for Odysseus where the ‘no longer you’ refers to him becoming a monster, with Durge it’s the opposite. He is of course still equally distressed. And dude it all fits so well with Durge it’s insane.

Idk what I’d make ‘sacrifice of man’ be in my brain animatic tho lmao, probably the elder brain, cause while it doesn’t fit the *best* with the line, I want those first 3 to all be past things Durge is half remembering, with the rest being mainly the future (which are honestly way easier to place) so yeah.

God damn I should make an actual animatic (I’ve animated like twice in my life wo counting 3d animation 😭😭😭) Anyways I’ll sit on that but it would be *really* cool

(Also like, does anyone know how to do itallacs and stuff on mobile 💀💀💀)

[tyrantisterror]

So! Fun fact, paladin used to be my least favorite class of all the main D&D character classes. The combination of Having to Stick to A Strict Set of Rules and being explicitly devoted to a god just screamed "Religious Fundamentalist" to me and I'm just not a fan of those in real life and have no desire to play as one. Well, it turns out 5e stripped out most of the religious aspect and focused Paladins on "a knight with a code of ideals and ethics they follow very strictly." You're no longer a Paladin of Abadar or Kord or Stingus McBingus or Definitely Not Jesus In a Pair of Grouch Marx Glasses, but a Paladin of the Oath of Devotion or the Oath of Ancient Truths or the Oath of Vengeance et cetera. Technically that should be more or less a surface level difference but for some reason it's very significant to me, much more enjoyable now that god(s) is out of the picture.

If reddit's anything to go by, a lot of people have struggled to keep to their oath when playing a Paladin in Baldur's Gate 3 - a video game doesn't have the adaptable reasoning of a human Dungeon Master, after all, so there's bound to be moral gray areas that you could talk out in an in person game that a video game has to take a hard rule on. The Oath of Devotion seems to be the one people struggle with the most - it's the one where you're a classic Knight in Shining Armor, basically.

...

So yeah I actually have not had trouble keeping my Dark Urge PC true to his Oath of Devotion for most of the game so far. There have been almost no situations where I could stay on the straight and narrow path with him, and one could argue there's a bit of foreshadowing in the fact that even the Bard Incident in Act 1 didn't break it for him (can't hold a guy accountable for something his evil god blood did without his permission I suppose).

The first time I was tempted to break my oath was towards the end of Act 2, when I was trying to recuse some prisoners from a prison run by the evil cult at the center of the game's plot. Having played this before, I know that it's basically impossible to keep all those prisoners alive if you let them out while the guards are still alive, because they WILL try to help you fend off the guards and WILL get full-on murdered if they do so.

But you can't just murder the guards if you're a paladin of the oath of devotion because they aren't actively hurting you or the prisoners - they're just doing their job of watching a prison, not engaging in torture or what have you. It's not immoral, but it's against your code of valor. So the only way to save all the prisoners was to take out the guards without my paladin swinging his sword at them.

And, well, I have that cool cloak that turns you invisible when you kill someone, and some invisibility potions, and a level 9 rogue with sneak attack and a pretty deadly short sword/dagger combo, and the guards aren't THAT tough if you get them one on one by, say, sneaking up on them... so Astarion helped Durge uphold his oath.

Luckily for Durge, there's nothing in his oath that says he can't one-shot an evil illusory doppelganger with a smite evil attack.

[margridarnauds]

9, 10, and 17 for bg3 please!

9. worst part of canon

BG3 is my beloved mess of a game. Like, it looks so smooth on the surface, then you get below the surface and there's a lot of really, really bad writing and artifacts from several previous drafts that no longer work. I really, really don't like the way that they treated Sarevok and Viconia, in particular though, especially Sarevok because it was used to give a horrific backstory to Orin that...oh, wait, is never really given the weight that it deserves and is used to show how edgelord supreme Durge is Bhaal's Special Boy. The first two games aren't dear to my heart like they are for some people, but I can't imagine going through all the effort of romancing Viconia or redeeming Sarevok, only for the developers to go "lol have you considered if they were UNREDEEMABLE? Wouldn't that be COOL? Also have you considered that if you're fucked up from birth you can't change and the only proper ending for you is to be killed by my OC, who is Different and Is redeemable but we're also going to throw out some hints that, even though they were a corpsefucker, they were always at least a little bit good inside?" Hate, hate, hate. (Also, in general, the game's treatment of abuse in general is...shockingly bad, once you get beyond the one time they handled it with the sensitivity it deserved.)

10. worst part of fanon

I really don't like when G@le or H@lsin fans jump onto posts about Wyll's treatment to make it about their faves. Like, it's not the same, there isn't the history behind whatever treatment those two characters got that there is with Wyll, stop it. And stop using autism as a way of trying to put their treatment on the same level of marginalization as Wyll's, especially since it's never been confirmed that they were written to BE autistic. (Autistic people can find solace in whatever characters they want, it isn't like I'm the Autism Police, but also...no one does this to female characters.) (I'm going to start saying that Minthara was totally justified in trying to raid the Grove and that people only hate her because she's autistic-coded.)

17. there should be more of this type of fic/art

I'm really kind of isolated in the sense that (1) I'm in a kind of niche part of fandom to begin with, as a Raphael Fucker, and (2) I haven't been able to participate like I'd normally want to due to...well.....*gestures broadly to flaming trashfire*.

But something that I really like to see is when people make their Tavs *people* instead of blowup dolls for their love interest of choice. I get the appeal of self-shipping and self-inserts, and I'll be the first to admit that I did put a lot of myself into Kitrye (and Malla, in different ways), but I really do like when they have their own distinct personalities and backstories and plotlines outside of being a love interest to the romanced character of choice. Love my Tavs who exist just to star in their own PWPs, the authors/artists are doing the Lord's work and sustaining the eternally thirsty masses, but I also really love when people do their own thing and I'm always going to cheer that on.

[vampire-caprisun]

We Can be Heroes CH1

Hello! Im finally going to start posting my cringe fan fiction on here and AO3, hopefully going to try to keep myself on a weekly release schedule but that might be subject to change depending on my current workload and job schedule. Thinking of making this two parts with the main story of bg3 being part one and an epilogue adventure being part 2.

Anyway this is my Tav Inala's story, shes a drow Ranger/Rogue seeking redemption and finding love and family in the process. Very durge coded without being a durge herself and I'm probably going to work in elements from the durge storyline into this fic since I love both.

Warnings: Voilence, talks of SH and suicide, talks of SA, drug use, alcohol consumption, lots of smut, mentions of past abuse, trauma and ptsd

Relationships: Astarion/named!Tav, Astarion/f!tav, Shadowzel, Wyllach, and some light implied Halsin/Astarion/Tav later on in the story if you squint.

Chapter 1: Love at First Knife

A bottle shattered next to a pair of boots. Their owner stumbled through the forest heading in no direction in particular. She was very drunk, barely registering that her poorly bandaged hand was bleeding again. It didn't matter anyway, if something in the woods didn't kill her tonight her former boss absolutely will later. 

“I deserve it.” She slurred to no one in particular. “I deserve all of this.” Her eyes began to leak fat tears again. A year ago she was a different person, ruthless, capable, on track to be one of the most in demand assassins on the Sword Coast. Then everything changed the moment that sorceress’ lips pressed against her own. The bitterness, the misanthropic behavior melted away and she was left confused and deconstructed. Was this truly who she wanted to be? Could she be more than a blade in the dark? Nyra sure thought so, before her throat was cut. Now the Dread Raven wanders the woods alone again, intoxicated and haunted by ghosts who saw something better in her. “I can't do this Nyra,  I can't.” She sobs as if talking to someone who isn't there. “I'm not a good person, I never have been. Fuck why'd you have to die I dont know what I'm doing, why’d you have to fucking leave?!” she screams into the dark, her voice going hoarse. 

“Show me what to do or let me end please.” She was begging now, begging her dead lover, the gods, anyone who would listen really. “I don't want to be alone anymore.” The drow sobs quietly as she comes to the edge of a steep cliffside, a peaceful beach below it with waves crashing into the rocks. It would be so easy, just a couple more steps…..but she stops as if something won't let her continue. “You are so much more than what they made you to be Inala.” Nyra’s words echoed in her brain as if she was still here. “Fight for it. Fight for you and everyone else this fucked up world screwed over. If anyone can change their stars its you. Fight back.” the drow crashed to her knees. 

“Ok.” She said quietly tears falling onto the rock below her. “Fuck you. You win, I'll fight.” she sighed swaying with the wind a bit as she cast her eyes upwards to the stars. “I want to live.” she whispered to herself. Then just as her drunken hallucinations had reached their final crescendo one more massive one appeared in front of her. Raw fear gripped the drow’s heart as a tentacle shot forward from the massive ship. Well so much for wanting a second chance.

____________________

Inala groaned and rolled onto her side, her head pounding with what might be the worst hangover in history. This is why she doesn't like sleeping too often. What a gods damn weird dream. Illithids, a Githyanki, apparently they drove a Nautaloid through Avernus? She wanted to just lay there for a bit longer until her head stopped screaming at her and the nausea subsided but the smell of fire and destruction had her up quickly. Oh gods. It wasn't a dream. 

She had been on this ship and crashed it into the beach. Somehow her rock bottom had just become so much worse. The drow stood up on wobbly legs, her long raven hair tangled and caked in sand, her makeup smudged across her freckled cheeks and she was pretty sure she reeked of gore and whiskey. She dared not look at her reflection right now but at least she's not a mindflayer. Well, not yet. Right, healer find a healer. Wasn't that one shadow woman a cleric? Shit maybe she lived? 

The ranger stretched and groaned, her body sore and her mind still foggy. She breathed in, taking in her surroundings searching for signs of survivors from the crash. Find the cleric. 

Inala didn't have to wander far, the dark haired woman laid on her back intact and what looked to be mostly unharmed. She noticed her hand clutched that strange artifact she had seen on the ship that had been quickly hidden away from her the moment she took interest in it. The drow thought for a moment, eyes flicking to the cleric and then to the glowing object. She decided to carefully reach out to it hoping to get a better look at whatever valuable item this half elf was keeping hidden, maybe even use it as leverage…then suddenly she was caught, the cleric sat upright holding a knife to the drow’s chest. Inala backed up hands in the air. “Sorry!” she grinned sheepishly “I was just looking!” 

“And why would I believe you?” The half elf eyed her with suspicion. Inala felt the thing in her head squirm then connect to the cleric, their thoughts and intentions shared with another. They both stumbled back. 

“That thing they put in our heads you…you have the same one?” The half elf stuttered. 

“What the hells was that? You were in my head!?” the drow snarled, her hangover not helping the trobing that came from the worm's activity in her skull.

“I…I don't know. I remember the ship I remember falling then nothing. That's all I know. They….they put something in our heads.”

The two women stared at one another in a stalemate, then finally Inala set her weapons on the ground putting up her empty hands “Look we need to cooperate if we're going to live through this. I don't want to become a mindflayer and I'm guessing you dont either. Where's the green woman?” 

“Lae'zell? She seems to have run off without us. Seems like I'm more reliable than your friend.” the half elf smirked putting her own knife away and crossing her arms.

Inala glared now rubbing her head “Well do you have any ideas on how to fix this then? Because she was the only person who seemed to have some sort of knowledge of what happened to us.” 

“No, but first things first we need supplies and shelter.”

Inala smiled at that, finally something in her wheelhouse. “Leave that to me. I've lived outdoors all my life. I can throw a camp together for us if you agree to cooperate. I want this worm out just as much as you do.” 

“Alright we help each other then. You can call me Shadowheart. That's all you need to know.”

“Fine. You can call me Inala and that's also all you need to know.” they nodded at one another both sensing the other was also a very guarded and private individual. They set off to salvage through the wreckage not encountering much but a few walking brains to fight. Finding the githyanki in this mess was going to be like searching for a needle in a haystack. What Inala would give to have her crows right about now…Wherever they are. Her poor feathered friends were probably worried sick about her. She'd find them soon and then she'd pack up and leave. Go somewhere far away where no one knew of her past alias or the horrible things she had done. Maybe join a circus or something who knows at this point. 

Hours passed until they came out through a section of wreckage that opened up to a clearing overlooking the beach below. A disoriented man stood at the edge of the cliff and the ranger paused. 

“There's someone up ahead.”

The pale elf turned to the two women. He waved frantically in their direction shouting “Help!” To them as they approached. 

“Do you see it? There in the bushes I got one of those brain things cornered. You can kill it can't you?” He pointed out towards the beach. Inala glared at him eyeing his fancy embroidery and flashy purple doublet. Her eyes traced his slender form to the dagger on his hip. 

“You seem pretty capable, kill it yourself.” Inala grumbled unimpressed with this city dwelling noble, he reminded her of the pricks she used kill for. The drow turned to leave and then with almost supernatural speed and silence she felt a cool blade at her throat as she was pulled to the ground. 

“Shhhhhhh not a sound not if you want to keep that darling neck of yours.” he purred as she struggled then turned to her companion. “And you keep your distance no need for this to get messy.”

Was this fool serious? Inala could kill him in three different ways if she wanted to and wipe that smug grin right off his pretty face. “Really wish people would stop pulling knives on me today.” She groaned and the elf pressed the blade into her throat a little more. 

“Now now I just want to talk. I saw you on the ship didn't I? Nod.” He gave the command and the drow glared at him her eyes becoming silver slits as she obeyed. 

“Good.” he purred and then twisted the knife upwards when she struggled. “You're in league with them aren't you? Those tentacled-” the drow slammed her forehead into his before he could finish seeing an opportunity in the city elf's paranoia and taking it. He stumbled back holding his head as Shadowheart ran to assist her. The pale elf snarled his red eyes going dark as he shifted his grip on his dagger “You little-AH” in that moment their heads connected. Inala could see through his eyes, the dark alleyways the noisy taverns, the fear the pain. In moments they saw into each others souls. The elf's eyes widened a bit as she flooded his mind, flashes of an arrow sailing into a body with a thud, the excited screaming of corvids, the isolation and familiarity of darkness. They held their heads and stared at each other for a beat recognizing more than just a shared parasite affliction. 

“What was that what's going on?” He demanded. 

“Those things did something to us. The worms they're connected I think.” The drow snapped at him glaring in his direction. 

The stranger straightened himself dropping his blade “You're …you're not one of them, they took you just the same as me.” 

“I'm trying to find a cure so we don't become mindflayers. I saw it happen on the ship and I won't be sharing the same fate.” 

“Turn us into mindflayers I- aha hahahaha!” He paused and began to laugh to himself while the horror and pain were evident behind his eyes. “Of course it will turn me into a monster.” He sighed sadly. 

She stared at the pale beautiful man in fancy embroidery. He wouldn't last a day out here on his own and he did get the jump on her, he could be useful potentially. 

“My name is Astarion. I was a magistrate in Baldur's Gate when those things grabbed me.”

The drow glanced up at him and considered something for a moment. “Im Inala. I'm a ranger in these woods. Do you need a place to camp? I suppose we should all stick together.” she asked him as Shadowheart looked on bewildered that her newfound companion just offered a strange man with a knife shelter. The handsome elf paused 

“I was going to go this alone but sticking with the herd might not be a bad idea.” He smiled almost in relief. The drow returned his grin and held out her hand. Astarion hesitated then extended his own before being yanked forward, the rangers grip tight on his wrist. “One more thing city boy.” She hissed and twisted his arm behind him, her own dagger coming to rest under his chin. “If you pull a knife on me again I won't be as nice.” 

Astarion audibly swallowed. “Noted.” He croaked out as he was released and shoved forward. 

“That goes for you as well cleric, next person to threaten me with a blade loses the hand holding it.” Inala grumbled and marched ahead of her two companions. 

“Feisty. I like it.” the elf rubbed the spot on his chin where her knife had been raising an eyebrow in interest. The cleric next to him groaned.

____________________

Their search for the githyanki had become much more tedious than anticipated. They had been through most of the wreckage and all they found was a tadpoled wizard in a rock formation who wasn't amused when Inala slapped his hand instead of pulling him free. Whatever he set himself up for that one. 

There was a ruin ahead,and said wizard, who went by Gale, began to insist that they investigate sensing magic in the area or something. 

“And what do you even expect to find in this dust covered death trap?” The pale elf asked as they made their way down the path. 

“Hopefully something useful to help us deal with the parasites in our brains.” Gale replied marching ahead of the group. Astarion suddenly stopped and put his hand out to the two women behind him. 

“We're not alone.” he hissed as Gale continued to talk away ahead of them. 

“How do you know?” Inala whispered back.

“I can hear them! Several people down in the ruin one on watch.”

“I don't hear anything!” Shadowheart glanced around trying to hear whatever the fuck the elf was tuned in to.  Inala also tried to listen for voices but got nothing. “I have no idea what you're on about.” she stared at him with suspicion. Either the elf was mad, or he happened to be blessed with the best set of ears in Faerun.

“Ugh we need to get closer clearly you both have abysmal hearing.”

“Or you're just a freak.” Shadowheart laughed earning her a glare. 

That's when Inala saw the smoke from a campfire above the trees. Fuck the elf was right. Acting quick she bolted ahead and grabbed the wizard by the mouth pulling him off the main road and into cover holding his blabbering lips shut as he squirmed in protest. Astarion and Shadowheart had already joined her, the four of them glancing at one another for direction. 

“What do we do?” Shadowheart whispered as gale made a noise of protest. 

“Someone needs to scout ahead and determine if they're friendly. I vote for the city elf since he seems to have freak hearing.” the ranger suggested still holding a struggling Gale.

Shadowheart snickered again. 

Astarion glared at the drow. “And I vote for the ranger since she seems to think she's in charge.”

Inala turned to him. “Well I don't see any of you making important decisions for the group.” 

“Then allow me to be the first. Go scout ahead darling.” 

Inala huffed and glared back at the rogue releasing Gale as she did. The wizard spun around at both of them.

“Well since the two of you seem to be so fond of eachother why don't you both go and take your bickering far away from here.”

They both turned their annoyance to Gale who finished dusting himself off. The ranger and the rogue eyed one another suspiciously. 

“Only if he can finally keep his mouth shut. Are you even capable of that city boy?”

“I got the jump on you didnt I? Wild girl.” He sneered back and Inala wanted to wipe that pointy smug grin off his pretty face. 

“How about the both of you stop posturing and actually do your jobs.” Shadowheart groaned in annoyance. 

“He started it.” 

“Did not.”

Gale shoved both of them back onto the dirt path “Just get on with it already! I swear the two of you are the noisiest scouts alive!” 

________________

They approached the ruin in relative silence. Inala was even mildly impressed that the elf was as stealthy as he boasted. As they crept up behind a bush they could see a man posted on lookout and Astarion made a few gestures to her with his hands. Oh good he actually knows theives cant the city elf may be useful after all. 

I count 7. 

He signed to her and to his surprise she signed back. 

8 there's one behind the door. 

They both acknowledged the old wooden door the rest seemed to be guarding. 

What do you think is behind it?

The elf asked and Inala smiled to herself as the gears in her head began to turn. She turned back to him.

If it's valuable, I want it. 

That seemed to warm him up to her. A sinister grin grew on Astarion's lips as he peered over the bushes once more to get a look at the door. “Hmm maybe you're not so annoying after all ranger.” he whispered. 

“Shall we get the others?”

“Do we need to?”

“Only if you think you can't handle a few bandits.”

“Oh trust me, I'm more than capable.” 

“Good, I'm dropping the crates.”

“The what?”

Before he could protest the drow already had her bow out and aiming for a stack of heavy crates secured in a net above the camp. With a single shot she severed the rope watching them fall through the wooden platform they were secured over, taking two of the bandits with them. Astarion had no choice but to leap into action. He took aim at the guard and landed an arrow in his gut then followed up by jumping the man and slicing his throat. Inala had leapt up onto what was left of a stone arch firing an arrow through a half elf's eye then dropped from above onto the remaining bandit driving her hatchet into her skull. She spun in time to dodge a crossbow bolt shot at her by a halfling on the second story preparing herself to counter when an arrow flew through the man's throat shot by Astarion from the other side. The ranger and the rogue both glanced at one another with newfound respect as Gale and Shadowheart caught up to them. 

“The hells happened? You two were supposed to scout ahead?!” The wizard yelled at the both of them. 

“Oops.” The drow giggled as she cleaned her ax. 

“Why are you even complaining wizard? We did all the dirty work for you.” Astarion scoffed as he began to loot the bodies. 

“You murdered five people!” Gale gestured wildly to the carnage around them. 

“Technically it was seven. I wouldn't call it murder really, I just got to them before they could kill me.” Inala rolled her eyes as she tossed Shadowheart a pouch full of food. Astarion gestured over to Inala.

“See the drow gets it!”

“Oh so you're friends now.” Shadowheart narrowed her eyes at him.

“Friends is a strong word cleric.” Inala huffed 

“More like colleagues who appreciate a fellow artist's work.” Astarion gave the drow a dramatic bow which she returned with an appreciative nod. 

“Why are all of you obsessed with violence?” Gale hissed as the door they had all forgotten about burst open with several fireballs being slung in their direction. 

“Shit!” The four of them cursed in unison.

More bandits poured out into the ruin resulting in an all out brawl. Inala rushed the first one, easily landing a devastating blow to the torso with her hatchets then spun the dying man around to use as a meat shield for an incoming volley of arrows. Shadowheart had fired a beam of light at the dwarf who had Inala pinned but was overtaken by a dragonborn with a greatsword. Inala snarled and lept into action fighting him back with a few well executed counter maneuvers. He caught her once on the side and the drow saw red, leaping at him and driving her hatchet deep into the side of the dragon man's neck. She could feel her companions eyes on her, the pale elf in particular seemed awestruck by the blood and viscera that dripped from her skin. Freak. Inala thought to herself as she helped Shadowheart to her feet. The cleric healed her quickly then turned to help Gale as a few more bandits trickled out of the ruin. Inala could have sworn she saw the elf try to sniff his blade as he pulled it out of the chest cavity of one of them. The drow began to wonder what the hells mind flayers wanted with a collection of violent weirdos like them.

 The final enemy fell with a scream in agony as their wizard delivered one last bolt of lightning straight to their back and then the battle was over. Bodies littered the outside of the old temple and blood stained the sand. The newly formed party panted and stood in the carnage glancing at one another. They'd all done well with their first test as a team. Astarion of course is the first to break the calm.

“Well it seems like we're all much more capable than we've been letting on ey?” 

“Will someone please shut him up?” Inala groaned and began to silently loot the corpses. 

Gale sighed and stretched his back “Oh believe me we are all wishing for it.”

___________________________________________

And thats chapter one! The gang is definitely going to need some team building exercises that dont involve murder but they at least work well together despite being disasters. Next chapter involves telling eachother secrets and some bonding. Hope you guys liked it!

[rinwellisathing]

You're Awful, I Love You: Part 36

Enver Gortash/Trans Male Tiefling Durge

The carriage stopped and the group dispersed outside of Rivington to avoid unwanted attention. Gabraela escorted Jackal down along the beach to avoid being seen as much as possible, Tomi's form rippled, changing back into her riding clothes and Orin cracked her neck side to side, focusing a moment and transforming into handsome male elf with dark brown skin, sharp features, and jet black hair wearing riding clothes as well, walking alongside her as they made their way back to the city.

Before Sentry left the carriage, Gortash took his hand and stopped him. “I forgot to tell you, in a few days I've been invited by some benefactors to the theater, I want you to join me.” Sentry grinned. “I see, but I imagine I have to behave while I'm there, right? No material acquisitions?” “Well, if you can be discreet about it, I wouldn't deny you, my Dread Executioner. However, the dress code IS formal.” Enver replied, raising Sentry's hand to his lips. “So, will you join me?” “Sure, sounds fun.” Sentry nodded. “Besides, 'discreet' just means a chance to be creative with it.”

He realized the dress code meant he'd likely need to visit with Ffion again, and really he'd been putting off letting Wysp know about Malta for far too long at this point. He felt a bit guilty the beautiful clothes Ffion had initially given him were a bit worse for wear after being removed quickly for so many tumbles in bed, but then again if anyone could understand that, it would be her.

He kissed his lover farewell before making his way towards the town, going over in his head what exactly to say to Wysp about the whole Malta situation. 'Hey buddy, why's your cat mad at you?' or perhaps 'Wow, man, what did you say to Malta? He's been at my house a couple of weeks now I think.' Well, he would think of something that made sense. As he approached the building and opened the door, he noticed a distinct difference in the music. Weird. Usually Wysp played a set around this time. He approached the desk, fishing in his pocket for his money.

“Hey Mam'zell, it's been a bit. Are Ffion and Wysp around?” Sentry asked, pulling the small pouch of gold from his pocket and setting it on the counter. He didn't notice in his distraction the rather saddened look on the woman's face. “Oh dear, you haven't heard?” Mam'zell bit her lip and looked around a moment before leaning in to speak quietly to Sentry. Her expression was mournful as was her tone. “Wysp is dead, dear...His...his body turned up missing his head outside our door one morning a month or so ago.” Sentry's eyes widened. “What?!” He gasped, taken aback. No...if there had been a murder, he should know about it. “Who did it? Did they find out?” 'If it was one of mine, I'll skin them alive and hang them from my bed post....' he thought to himself, trying to control the pain. His body felt simultaneously numb and like it might explode at the same time. His friend, his confidant, the one person he knew who was just like him....gone. “No, I'm afraid not...Business as usual with this city. No one cares when it's one of us, you know.” Mam'zell lowered her head and frowned before breathing deeply and forcing her public face back to the fore. “However Ffion is in....and I know she'd love to see you, young man.” She moved to make change for Sentry's coin since Wysp was no longer available. “Please...keep it...for the cats, he'd have wanted them well cared for.” Sentry held up his hand in protest before turning to go to Ffion's quarters.

Sentry wasn't used to feeling upset about a death, not since Commander Mum had died. Evagria Ojeda had been the last death he'd mourned, every one since had been a celebration. His eyes burned with tears that wouldn't come, his stomach lurched with a gnawing, wrenching knot. He gripped the wall next to Ffion's door for support, stopping briefly to try and right himself before he would knock. The reaction felt so alien to him, like a part of him that had died with Commander Mum clawing and lapping at the tissue of his brain from the inside. He cursed under his breath and tried to shake it off. These things happened. People died all the time. How many people he killed were someone's closest, dearest friend? Why should he be special? Was father's plan not for everyone, even Sentry himself, to die when it was complete? Wysp had been saved the worst of it and Sentry was spared those stunning violet eyes gazing up at him in abject betrayal when the day came. Yes, that was it. Wysp never could have understood like Enver did. Whoever did this had done both Sentry and Wysp a favor...but then, why was he having so much trouble believing it?

With a heavy sigh, he knocked on Ffion's door. The moment she opened the door, the pulled him inside, enveloping him in those strong, wide, motherly arms and holding him close. “Oh sweet heart. I take it you heard about poor Wysp?” Sentry nodded, his expression numb and empty. Ffion squeezed him tight and led him over to sit down. Her robes today were black, still with an ample view of her heavy chest, but more plain than she'd ordinarily wear. This had hurt her as well, a month ago and still in mourning. “Yeah...Malta's been at my place I guess since it happened...I thought they had a falling out...fuck...” “You just cry if you have to, honey, let it all out. I know how close you two were.” Ffion offered a handkerchief to Sentry, sitting beside him and patting his arm reassuringly. “Or, if it's still too fresh a wound, we can talk about something else...take our minds off it. How's it going with that noble?” “Um...”Sentry shifted a bit, regaining himself and taking a deep breath. “Really well, actually...um...we...we've done so much together and...actually that's why I'm here, we're supposed to go to the theater with some other nobles..” Ffion managed a smile at that. “Oh, now that IS big. Usually they've kicked us lower city folk to the curb by now. A theater date comes right before the proposal. You'll need something special. I know how you prefer black, but you need some color, love.” It seemed the good news had done the trick and she was in far better spirits as she made her way to the wardrobe in the corner. “Speaking of different topics, of family, how're things with your son? I remember he was giving you some trouble. Do you want me to talk to him? Give him the old paladin lecture?” Sentry asked. “That boy, now I know some of the things you draw are downright scary, Sentry dear, but my boy...I just can't quite put my finger on it, there's something unsettling...” She thumbed through several colorful vests and overcoats. “See, when I look at your macabre art, there's a beauty to it. Like touching the darker bits of The Weave....When Dolor draws like that, though...it's cold, clinical.” She gave a small sigh. “I guess I COULD fool myself into thinking he wants to be a healer or a medic of some sort, but....”

“I know you probably don't want to pry, but if you want, I can try and find out what he's up to. You're like a second mum to me, Ffion, if there's anything I can do to help...” Sentry offered softly. “There now, don't worry about me, Sentry. You've got so much on your plate right now with your new man, this dreadful business with Wysp....I'll be fine, love. Don't you worry.” The dwarf reassured him as her hand brushed across a shimmering purple fabric. “Ah, there we are. It matches one of your eyes and it'll be quite becoming with the shade of your hair.” She pulled a tastefully embroidered purple and silver doublet from the closet along with a silken shirt in a darker shade of plum and a pair of fine aubergine breeches. “It's quite purple, isn't it?” Sentry gave a little smile. “I mean, not that it's a problem, I like purple.” Purple was the color faces turned when deprived of oxygen. Purple was the color of deep bruises when you landed a hit hard enough to rupture something. “Not only that, but really I do think it's your color, barring maybe a nice blueish green.” She shrugged, motioning for him to stand so she could help him try the clothing on. As Sentry stripped, Ffion's eyes moved over his body, naturally checking for anything out of the ordinary. She couldn't have some upper crust nobleman harming her young man, after all. Her eyes fell to the newest of Sentry's tattoos, the black hand. “That's new.” She remarked. “I remember the Ilmater hands, but this one....” Her fingers brushed against the rich black ink that now marked Sentry's skin. “Oh...uh...it's a sex thing.” Sentry blushed, explaining maybe a bit too quickly to be sure Ffion might believe him. She frowned a moment, seeming doubtful. The 'Elminster's Library' set wasn't just for show, Ffion was a smart woman no matter how many discounted her due to her pleasant attitude outside of work and what she did for a living. In the back of her mind, the symbol of Bane came to mind. But it also occurred to her how often young men toyed with symbols like these without realizing what they meant. Sentry was so happy and this man seemed to be treating him well. Yes, just a foolish kink. This is some smitten noble trying to be something out of a dirty novel. The cult of Bane was abolished years ago. She shook off her doubts and smile.

“I see. Well, far be it for me to judge.” She shrugged, helping him on with the clothing and standing back beside him to admire the appearance in the mirror. “There. He'll propose on the spot, my lad.”

Sentry grinned, he did look quite dashing in these clothes. Tall and handsome, his muscles lean enough to avoid straining the material, but toned enough to fill it out nicely. He certainly looked the part of a young noble attending the theater. “Thanks, Ffion.” “Any time, boy.” She beckoned him to her level and pulled him into a tight embrace. “You're such a good boy, Sentry. You deserve all the happiness in the world.” “And you're a good mom, Ffion. Your son should learn to see that.” Sentry replied, giving her a tight squeeze. “And if he doesn't? I'll fight him.” He grinned playfully, only half kidding. His brain flashed with images of a new sculpture 'The Ungrateful Son', that poxy little shit who caused his friend so much trouble nailed to a chair in a corner, cruel tongue cut out. “Now now, he's still my boy, sweetheart.” She chastised gently. “I don't want to see you two coming to blows.” “Yes, ma'am.” Sentry sighed, rolling his eyes. “Oh, also, before I forget, here! I found this while I was on business yesterday.” He fumbled around in his satchel and pulled out one of the tomes he and Sceleritas had stolen from Mephistar. “It's a true account from Netheril! Can you believe it? Since you're a wizard and all, I thought you might be interested.” Ffion's eyes widened as she accepted the old journal. “Sentry, sweetheart, this is.....” Most gifts the woman was given were meaningless trinkets, jewelry that could never add up to the simple ring she kept from her late husband, clothing she didn't care for when outside of work comfort was key, but this book was a wealth of knowledge. Rare, fascinating, something she would honestly enjoy. She gave Sentry another tight hug. “I won't ask where you got it, hardly my business after all, but thank you...thank you so much.” “Of course! A good mum needs to be treated like one. You should have nice gifts...ones you like.” Sentry gave a little smile as the embrace ended and he stood to leave. “Thank you, Ffion, after I lost Commander Mum...well...things would have been so much worse without you.”

[nadas-dirthalen]

1, 21, and 22 about your Durge? :)

Aaaa thank you so much for asking! Link to the questions here.

1. What circumstances led to your Dark Urge becoming their Class/Subclass? Velkyn was born a storm sorcerer! This was my choice because default Durge is a storm sorcerer, but the headcanon explanation I have is that since Baldur's Gate is the land on which Bhaal first murdered, Velkyn carries magic reminiscent of the land: pelting rain, crashing thunder, violent lightning.

In my DnD character sheet I made for them, they have Alter Self as a sorcerer spell, and it's because that seems to be a thing in BG games before 3. Bhaalists just kinda... change shape! Plus Orin's close relationship with them.

21. What are 2-3 songs that your Dark urge would relate to?

"What Could Have Been" from Arcane — I have the Samuel Kim cover on their playlist. Very Velkyn/Orin fallout coded!

"Awful Beast" by Ursine Vulpine ft. Annaca — all of the Redemption Durge vibes going on there.

"New Eyes" by Echos — same reason! A little bit of a more melodramatic/angry Redemption Durge vibe. Also, they continually question their own recollection, and what biases they might've had in the tiny snippets of memory that come back to them. They treat themself like an unreliable narrator post-tadpole until around mid-act two, and they don't trust themself to be the face of the party until mid-act three.

22. What first impression does your Dark Urge give off to strangers?

I feel like Velkyn's eyes are unnerving, being so white against all the tattoos and bruising around them. Velkyn also makes a habit of studying people, an instinct/practice left over from pre-tadpole days and even their childhood. They've always been one to try and understand an entire situation before interacting with it, and this made them... unnerving, given all the staring they'd do before actually speaking to someone.

The more Velkyn cares about an interaction, the longer this goes on.