#oh you're the child of Bhaal?

[allconsumingrot]

One of the funniest (likely unintentional) timeline fuck-ups in BG3, in my opinion, is the implication that Gortash just... straight-up lied about being the Chosen of Bane when he first met Durge.

In Memoir Notes with Recent Addenda, Gortash writes this:

- The Bhaalspawn and I work together on a heist from the House of Wonders and, discovering common goals, forge an alliance. - In dreams, the Bhaalspawn and I are visited by Bhaal and Bane, who name us their Chosen and command us to seek out and ally with Ketheric Thorm, the Chosen of Myrkul.

Since the rest of the notes all seem to be written in chronological order, we can assume that they became their gods' Chosen at some point after their first meeting.

However, the book you find in Durge's old room, describing the aforementioned museum heist, has these two lines:

I shall savage the museum's guards fighting along with this Chosen of Bane...

and

...it will be the perfect test of this supposed Chosen's mettle in combat.

Durge refers to Gortash as the Chosen of Bane, even though — according to Gortash's own timeline — he wouldn't have been Chosen yet.

Is it just a minor mistake by the game writers/developers? Probably.

Is it hilarious to imagine Gortash lying about being the Chosen of Bane, all to impress some Bhaalspawn he just met? Absolutely.

[the-timid-birb]

imagine, if you will,

Durge, after having refused his father and clawed back from the dead thanks to Jergal, finally free, casting Speak With Dead on Gortash's body in the Astral plane. Bane answers, all polite and cheery "oh you're looking for him? Sorry, he's already getting punished for failing.“

Durge: Okay, well, can I revive him so we try again?

Bane: that's not how this works :)

Durge: ......... I'll make you a deal. I'll convert to you if you give his soul back .

Bane: ... the. prodigal child of Bhaal. Made of his own flesh. Who then refused his gifts. Killed his entire cult in BG. Wants to serve me? in exchange for this loser? holy fUCKING SHIT DEAL THAT'S GONNA BE SO FUCKING FUNNY TO RUB IN BHAAL'S FACE, I'M IN

[y-rhywbeth2]

Still got BG2 Bhaal on the brain; particularly the bits where he likes to point out to his "favourite" children that they're demigods born of murder and don't/can't belong with the mere mortals. Usually in tandem with trying to coax them to be a good child and do what they're told by telling them they're special and powerful.

Oh, and the bits were he goes "you could protect your loved ones/"the weak" with divine power, you know..."

"Life... is strength. This is not to be contested; it seems logical enough. You live; and you affect your world. But is it what you need? You are... different... inside. [...] You are born of murder, the very essence of that which takes life."

"Why do you submit to the flesh, when death is bred in your bones? Follow, and receive the gift you are owed by the blood in your veins. Follow, if only to protect the weak that fell because of you."

And, obviously, we see it in BG3.

"Special, yes, special, aren't you? Ssh, don't fight it. You know what you need to do. Take up that knife, do what you do best. Easy as breathing. You'll feel better after."

"See? You are worse than everyone else. Filthy hierophant of the broken and damned. [...] The illithid tide can be broken by you."

"...you can't help but be a prodigy spree-killer. It's in your perfect nature."

A lot of the undertones I'm picking up on are the same ones you get from Sceleritas: "You don't belong with normal people, you're Other and you're better. Normal people will never love you. But Father loves you. Father will give you presents and keep you safe - if you're a good child."

I don't know, I just enjoy the flavouring of Durge internalising the idea that they're fundamentally bad, alien and only Bhaal can ever love them. Adds reasons to pick the Chosen ending - especially the concept that maybe you can keep your friends safe while you destroy the world - kill them last and then yourself, the last living beings. It's a horrific ending and utterly cruel to them, but cults don't encourage thinking skills and Chosen of Bhaal Durge isn't exactly the healthiest person around. The feral ending is even more tragic, and it can make the resist ending more complicated than "yay, I'm free" (yes, my heavily brainwashed Durge is thrilled that daddy doesn't love him any more(!))

-

Companions: "Your father tortures and kills you in dream visions. Repeatedly."

Durge: "Gods don't think like mortals. Father is the Lord of Murder; that's his love language."

Companions: "..."

(One thousand years therapy for the spawn of murder.)

[bhaalsbabe]

Not all gifts are appreciated

Pairing: pre-tadpole gn!Durge x Enver Gortash

Word count: ~700

Summary/warnings: my thoughts on how the rule of "not meddling with each other's business" came to be; MDNI, mentions of killing, brief gore description, suggestive at the end, Durge origin spoilers

Perfect, you thought to yourself as you arranged a corpse in front of Gortash's desk. You made it sit upright, you made sure it could be seen right from the door that it's missing the mandible. The rest of the body was covered in cuts of various sizes from when you toyed with it, the dried blood proof that they were done when the old man still breathed. You were proud of your handiwork as per usual and you couldn't wait for Gortash to see it too. You paced around the small office, unable to hold back your excitement. When your sharp senses heard approaching footsteps, you could discern from the walking pattern that it's the recipient of your gift. You stopped pacing, pulling yourself together to look more like the Chosen of Bhaal people usually got to see. With bated breath, you waited for the door to open.

"What's th-" Gortash stopped, looking at the corpse in shock, then at the smiling you.

"I've brought you a gift!" You exclaimed, still smiling. "You said he was too much of a hassle, and how you wished he would just stop babbling and die already. Well - he won't be a problem now. See-" You nudged the exposed mouth with your foot, the head rolling to the side as you disturbed the precarious balance. "He won't be able to speak anymore, ever! Aren't you happy?" You beamed at him, like a child showing a picture they've drawn to their parent.

Gortash's perfect facade disappeared as his face contorted in anger. "Happy? You fucking IDIOT! I almost had him sign the deal. Do you have any idea how long it took me to convince old Irlentree to make me his main supplier?!" He raised his voice, still holding a bit of control over his emotions even if he was beyond pissed at the moment. "I had a feeling you might have been the one behind his disappearance but I thought - hoped - you were smarter than that." He rubbed his face in frustration. "And to bring his corpse to MY office too, have you finally lost your mind? This could easily incriminate me and ruin my entire life's work!" He walked towards you menacingly, staring daggers at your face.

You just shrugged it off, however. "Oh stop being so dramatic. I can move lifeless bodies between various locations without being seen." You wrapped your arm around his burly shoulders, bringing him closer to you. "Just tell me a name and I'll make sure they're the one getting framed for this murder. An assassination on the head of a noble house is nothing new, you wouldn't believe how often we get contracts like that. So, calm down, Enver, hm?" You kissed his lips softly, making him focus on you and your body instead of the anger your actions caused him. He tried to push you away, weakly and half-heartedly, before relenting and accepting your advances. You smiled, pulling away after a minute or two of kissing. You patted his head affectionately. "There you go~"

"Let's set up a new rule though. If we are to work together, we won't meddle in each other's businesses anymore. You'll leave the politics to me while I'll leave the cult's dealings to you." You just nodded, clearly not really listening or taking his words to heart, instead you leaned in to kiss him again but he stopped you, pressing his fingers to your lips. "I'm serious. No more murders of my potential business partners, no matter how helpful you think you're being. If I need such service, you're the first one I'll go to and then we'll talk. Understood?" He used his commanding voice at you and you had to control yourself to not grin. He was just so adorable, how he thought he had power over you when you could easily slit his throat before he could even realise what's happening. And yet you decided to cooperate. He pulled his hand away to let you speak.

"I understand." You agreed, your hand coming to play with his messy black hair. "Now let's figure out what to do with this old geezer and then you can reward me for my hard work, hm~?"

He snorted and chucked, shaking his head in disbelief. He let his hands brush over your hips, squeezing them teasingly, before letting you go. "Fine. I already have a few ideas for both."

[daemon-in-my-head]

OK but actually, Bhaals/Durges plans aren't that stupid?

I mean, Bhaal doesn't care what happens to those souls. Murders empower him, so Durge killing everyone does work in his favour. Also lots of dead people would sway Myrkul towards him all while pissing off Bane which is always a W in Bhaals book.

But if everyone's dead what about Bhaals Power? Well dear reader, you're in luck because Scel confirms Durge gets to keep their consort. Bhaal does not want an apocalypse, he wants a world built to his liking. Aka; filled with Bhaalspawn brought to you by yours truly. An army of homemade homicidal maniacs essentially. The kind that goes backstabbing as a fun little hobby.

Now for Durge, it makes sense they comply too. Not only does Durge thrive for self-destruction and actively longs for their own obliteration, probably cuz of the whole child of murder bit, they also tried to keep someone save. From the god of murder. Who controls them. The easiest fucking way to do that is by ensuring their target of safekeeping has a purpose, and if there's only oh so many people alive every last soul becomes valuable. Durge can literally hold the world and Bhaals power hostage in that case. Also, once again, Bhaal kinda sorta controls Durge to a frightening degree. So if Durge wants to play it safe they need to comply until the scales are tipped in their favour.

It's a fucked up game of chicken between a God of death and his rebellious offspring. Also, they did want to kill Gorty last, so.... That's the perfect way yk. Incredibly fucked up and dehumanising, but actually not such a stupid plan.

Also no "foreign" souls = no power for other gods. And if the world is inhabited by only Bhaalspawn who continue to murder each other + praise Bhaal its kinda a cheat code for him growing exponentially powerful. And depending on how many hoops ur thoughts jump thru; Bhaals Power = Durges Power. Especially in an embraced ending since Durge kind of surrenders their personhood and "humanity" to become closer to Bhaal.

[crossdressingdeath]

Kyvir: You travelled with Bhaalspawn before, didn't you? What do you know of them? Minsc: Ahh, Boo has an inkling that this is not the question you mean to ask. I saw some hint of things when our minds mushed together - but Jaheira confirmed it for me. Minsc: You are of the same blood as our old friend: a Bhaalspawn, and as close to Minsc as if they were his own kin. Minsc: That makes Minsc your uncle. Kyvir: That's all you have to say? You're not worried what my blood might turn me into? Minsc: A curious question. Are a child and his father always alike? Minsc: Take Minsc! He does not have a clear memory of the face of his father, but he does remember tugging on the thick, red whiskers that sprang from his chin. Minsc: A beard for the ages! Boo could have nested there happily through even the harshest of Rashemen winters. Minsc: Now - look closely at Minsc, and what do you see? Kyvir: You don't have a beard. Minsc: Correct! There are more whiskers on Boo's tiny face than on the mighty chin of Minsc! Minsc: If Minsc did not inherit the flaming red hair of his mother, or the bushy red beard of his father, why would the spawn of Bhaal inherit his wickedness? Kyvir: Thank you. It's nice not having to justify myself for once. Minsc: Minsc is not here to judge - that is a thing for hamsters and hathrans alone.

Oh, this is very sweet. Especially with how Durge's first response to learning that Jaheira wants them to track down Minsc and realizing that he's an enemy of Bhaal can be "Minsc of Rashemen, the guy who hunts Bhaalspawn?" Being able to establish that worry in their mind only to meet Minsc and have him immediately say "No, your father doesn't decide who you are and I'm not going to judge you on the grounds of your blood" when the topic comes up is fantastic. I also love how Jaheira clearly wasn't worried about Minsc taking it badly for a second, since old friend or no I think that if she expected him to respond poorly she wouldn't have told him, at least not without talking to Durge first. It's also nice to know that the mind link from the tadpoles does give away them being Bhaalspawn, at least to someone who'd know what signs to watch out for; I did wonder if that would be the case.

Also! I love how Durge initially tries to sidestep around what they want to ask only for Minsc to immediately grasp what their actual point is, both for how tidily it establishes Durge being nervous about raising the subject with him (when if you choose to tell the earlier party members about it you just tell them outright that you're Bhaalspawn and don't dance around it at all) and how neatly Minsc cuts to the chase in order to assure them that he's not going to judge them for it. It's a bit strange that he says his connection to Gorion's Ward makes him Durge's uncle, since that would imply a connection to Bhaal rather than one of Durge's half-siblings, but that immediate insistence that they were Minsc's family and that makes Durge Minsc's family is incredibly sweet. Both because of the way he doesn't hesitate for a second to say it and because of how he clearly still thinks the world of Gorion's Ward (although that second one will probably be more effective when I've played the first two games). Minsc's metaphor also isn't really the greatest (divine blood coursing through your veins and pushing you to kill isn't exactly the same thing as your dad's beard inheritance-wise), but it's so clearly well-intentioned that it still works.

And it's also very fun how Durge can thank him for not making them justify themselves at all. While the rest of the group's concerns do come from a place of genuine care and worry for Durge and it's very fair that they all feel the need to say "You have to fight Bhaal" since that is a very pressing issue at the point in the story where it comes up, I can definitely see Durge being relieved to have one person learn they're Bhaalspawn and respond with essentially "That's okay." Minsc doesn't need to be reassured that they're going to fight Bhaal's influence, because a) he has plenty of experience with Bhaalspawn doing just that and so isn't as worried as people without that experience would be and b) Jaheira presumably wouldn't be travelling with them if she didn't trust them to make the right choice. Minsc also connects them to Gorion's Ward first, which is a fun touch; instead of saying they've got the blood of an evil god, he's saying that Durge has the same blood as a hero. It's just so good, I love him.

[sequesteredbhaalspawn]

It's still a shame that Durge doesn't get a unique reaction from Bane. You're telling me Bane isn't in love with the idea of stealing Bhaal's favorite child from him? BG3 doesn't understand this character at all (well none of the Gods are well written in this game. At least Bane is just a small cameo so not much harm done. Shar has some interesting things going for her, but she still isn't well written. Not to mention how awful all of their worship is written as well, people have legitimate reasons to worship the gods they do, and it's not all just being tricked, evil, or abused. BG3 also doesn't understand warlocks all that well either, but oh well).

Click to make bigger.

It is nice to see Wyll get a unique reaction though!

[inkyquince]

>> since you're writing bg3... 🌹

JIDOSAJIDASJISDA

WELL, YOU'RE JUST IN TIME ACTUALLY. A little something from a past gortash x reader with your current LI being a wee bit pissy about it. THIS HAS BG3 SPOILERS ABOUT THE DARK URGE ORIGIN AND GENERAL PLOT.

Carefully, with just a little Guidance, you crept into his mind, making sure not to alert the dark eyed Chosen of your actions. As per usual, the stream of consciousness came quickly, running like a stream past you, only able to catch a few strands of thought. 

Orin is too uncontrollable. This one never let me down. Oh, yes, how I liked you. Liked you so. I wonder if they taste as they did before, with blood on their tongue. Nothing that a little bit of wine helps to sweeten. The first taste is always the most memorable. You didn’t have the time of day for me at first, did you? The chosen of Bhaal, his favorite spawn, but I changed that. Now, if that glaring little shit would go find a shit house to glare at, I could invite you back to those chambers we enjoyed so much, to properly celebrate my new Dukedom. Not even the Sharess' Caress’s whores were able to scratch that itch you started- 

You quickly slipped back out, almost embarrassed with how the bastard saw you. Who you used to be… Maybe someone you still were.

There's way more to come... So I'm gonna share a wee snippet from Astarion's section too...

“No, no.” The elf gave a long suffering sigh, as if your… “Ex” appearing was the worst thing that had ever happened to him. “You have a type, darling. Dangerous. Excellently dressed. Though, I do say that I have the better hair by a mile, and that’s being polite.” 

You couldn’t help but smile. When you two first met, his bitchiness made it impossible to please him, but since then it had become extremely endearing. At least now you knew you were saddled with him for life, and it was more entertaining to listen to him aggravate people. 

The elf drank in your smile lazily before stretching out. 

“Interesting couple of days. You nearly kill me, then you proclaim that you're Bhaal’s favorite child.” He mulled over, tapping his chin with a perfectly manicured finger. “Then worst of all, you drag me to meet your lover. I’ve had fun being a homewrecker before, but the other partner never really knew it was me who lured them out of the marriage bed and into the grave.” 

[llamamamarisen92]

Burning out of Love

I love the idea of a durge who is entirely smitten by Karlach

Like this man LAUGHS and FLIRTS as he slays people. He makes ridiculous jokes as if he was just sitting in a coffee shop when he thrusts a dagger.

But when he sees Karlach he becomes incredibly soft and loving just with a glance from her. Like he's only doing good things because it makes her smile.

Warning: Language/Violence

He spun wildly in the air, sword thrust high above his head. Gortash readied for the blow, prepared to take down his old friend.

Johim grinned wildly as his sword struck down before Gortash could get his shields up. Gortash called upon Bane and felt the dark tendrils of his patron god taking over his consciousness.

Leaning his forehead against Gortash's he whispered ferociously.

"If you're going to hide behind your god I'll be sure to take you both out swiftly." Pressing a kiss to his cheek before thrusting his sword into Gortash's belly.

Gortash was no longer there. Bane's black hand grasped onto Johim's arm stopping his thrust.

"Child of Bhaal. It's a shame you turned your back on us. Oh, how I would have delighted in stealing you away for myself. A god among men."

How cocky the gods were. But he was a slayer of gods. And he would slay every single one of them if it meant stopping what he started.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Karlach moving in to land a blow. A dark force blasted her into the wall and all of Johim's fury came barreling to the surface.

There was no finesse. No insolent beauty to his movements anymore. He slashed wildly and unrelentingly at Gortash. A tiger being held up to the face of an unprepared hunter.

After a time Johim was covered in Gortash's blood and he breathed heavily over the dead Banite.

Searching the room for the spot where Karlach was he deflated. She sat curled in the corner crying. All ferocity left him as he rushed to her side.

"He's dead. And he's no fucking sorrier than he was before." He brushed at her cheek and she pulled away. "What's the point? I'm still going to die. I'm still dying!"

"We can figure this out, it's not over yet." He soothed.

"He stole my heart, my heart that was given to me by my mother. And all of this. The pain. The suffering. The loneliness… oh the fucking loneliness for ten years because my friend sold me to the devil!" She pushed him away and got up. But he persisted and held on to her hand.

"Whatever happens we are in this together, right to the very end."

He stood there, taking the heat of all her fury.

"You're going to go on living, dancing, eating, making fucking love all night." Her voice broke. "It's not fucking fair."

The thought of losing her after all this devastated him. She interrupted him before he could declare how if she died he would die with her. How he only ever wanted her.

"I need to go back to camp for a bit. Yell at the stars of whatever." Her sad smile set his heart beating faster. "Thanks for listening, love you."

She walked off and he turned to Gale and Astarion searching for any hint of an idea they may have.

"Karlach has precious little time left to her, we would do best not to waste it." Gale placed a knowing hand on Johim's shoulder.

He wouldn't let her die. Johim would find another way even if it meant selling his own soul to a thousand devils. Karlach was going to live.

[cedarw00div]

For Lythe and Gortash! 2, 3, 13, and 15, perhaps? If you're up for it!

Note- This is pre-absolute/pre-mephistopheles heist, when they start working with Ketheric that's when the relationship switches over to. not lovers but a sceret third thing.

questions here

2- What was their inciting incident for their relationship as enemies? Who was the primary instigator, if there was one?

Lythe actually kind of started it because I do imagine Gortash joining the Cult of Bane around the same time as Lythe began to change her methods in killing to seduction, so for a good few years she killed off Banites(and other nobles). The main inciting incident, though, was when they first met again, and Gortash threatened to kill Lythe with the silver weapons he made for monster hunters.

3- Do they respect each other?

At first? Oh dear god, no. Lythe mocked Gortash's position in the cult of Bane, not knowing his worship was fake, and Gortash thought she was too feral. When they realize they know each other, then they kind of get respect for each other. It's only when they go to the museum to heist that Lythe does grow some respect for Gortash, and then it all goes downhill from there.

13- How does this impact their relationships with their respective allies/friends/lovers?

For Gortash, not much, because he doesn't outright talk about his enemy being a bhaalspawn. He keeps it hidden away, only saying he's hunting the werewolf terrorizing Baldur's Gate.

For Lythe, it's a giant weight on her shoulders because Sarevok and Sceleritas both are pressuring her to kill Gortash and sacrifice his corpse to Bhaal as an offering. It also affects her relationship with Orin because she spends a lot more time focusing on how to take out this stupid Banite that she forgets about her own sister(who is around a child/teen at this time, idk, I hc Orin to at least be in her 20's and Lythe is 26 when this starts and is 43 by the time BG3 happens)

15- How does their conflict shape who they are as people?

Lythe becomes more...hostile. More aggressive, more observant, because she wants Gortash dead. She wants to find a way to kill him but he always is able to maneuver her attempts, and also she has to deal with Karlach.

Gortash becomes more and more cunning as time goes on, planning five steps ahead to avoid Lythe and eventually catch her and tame her.

[camelliagwerm]

Im really curious from your prev tags: how does veszeth feel about fel? How has it changed over time?

Oh thank you for the ask, I appreciate it! I guess you're referring to my tags on this post? - either way, I enjoy Sceleritas and he's imo one of the main highlights of the DUrge route. I love that weird little butler.

At least pre-being lobotomised by Orin, Veszeth always kept Sceleritas close. They first 'encountered' him as a disembodied voice, a shadow, and as a child thought him an imaginary friend. After they were in adolescence and made their way to the Temple of Bhaal by their own volition, Sceleritas was tasked with making sure every whim was catered to and they had everything they needed.

When Veszeth was younger at least, they saw Sceleritas as more of a nanny or babysitter than a butler, since I highly doubt Bhaal was a present father, and as they got older, it shifted more into the traditional Bhaalspawn-butler relationship that Sceleritas is trying to push them back towards during the game. They have been paired for decades by BG3.

I also think Veszeth was probably incredibly lonely during their time in the temple — isolated at Bhaal's orders until they were considered ready unless they were training or being educated by Sendai's Echo or Sarevok, so Sceleritas might have fulfilled the role of a confidant to them as well and while there's elements of Veszeth the old goblin might not quite understand (the way he refers to a non-binary DUrge at times definitely gives me a "he's a little confused, but he's got the spirit" vibes), he does what he can to keep them happy. Their wishes are his commands.

Of course there's been times where Veszeth has just killed Sceleritas - sometimes just for fun, or out of anger or frustration; they were quite volatile in the years leading up to when they took their adult name - but a butler only dies if the Bhaalspawn has no use for them, so he always comes back and grovels as if he displeased them. Or compliments them on the creativity of the kill.

During BG3, Sceleritas was a figure of both dread and anticipation while they didn't have their memories. Dread because Veszeth knows that with every visit from Fel, they risk being exposed. Anticipation, because it means they will be able to kill again and get a scrap of their past as a reward. And regardless of the fear or the dread, Sceleritas is the only one for the longest time who deigns to give them any sort of answers, as vague as they are.

I think, tbh, Veszeth would find life very difficult without Sceleritas since he's been around for the majority of their life - he's the closest thing to a constant for them, aside from the Urge.

[asharaks]

tagged by @bladesmitten MWAH<3

gonna tag @ikarons @fllagellant @vampireposter @baronmpontmercy :3 doing this for tia obviously obviously<3

Rules: If you're tagged, make a new post with links to music and/or lyrics describing the following:

An event that defines your character's past: Shake Off Your Flesh - The Huntress & The Holder of Hands. As leader of the cult of Bhaal, they had a very real sense of themself as a non-physical being; they really did conceptualise themself as something more, as the literal Child of God, their physical form both a blessing and a tether.

How your character sees themselves: Cassandra - Florence & the Machine. They are the prophet of a god they hate, clawing for faith and belief in a world that doesn't trust them. and who would i be without a florence song on a playlist.

How others view them: The Wolf - PHILDEL. Scary, vengeful, doomed - Tiavyn gets a lot of mixed reactions so picking a single song for this is tough:( but this one Fucks and i think the quietly angry vibe fits well.

Their closest relationship (platonic or romantic): It Will Come Back - Hozier. Thee quintessential tiawyll song - their desperation for love, their view of themself as a monster, begging for scraps, their fear of hurting him and him extending them kindness all the same...yeah

A major fight scene: Bare Grace Misery - Nightwish. I just love the Doomed energy of this song, the like....resignation in the lyrics with the manic energy.

End credits song: A Life All Mine - The Gathering. I just love this song: Tia's worked so hard to become what they are, and it's involved a lot of hurt. They've fought for their life, as it is, and they're not giving it up easily.

The Huntress & the Holder of Hands - Shake Off Your Flesh

But the sky is falling down With death and fire and rage Lord, let this fear subside That I might hear your name That the skin won't burn And the world won't drive Me from all I hold Floating safe inside

Florence & the Machine - Cassandra

Oh, drunken gods of slaughter You know I've always been your favourite daughter

Phildel - The Wolf

You were a wolf in the night to fetch me back The wishes I've made are too vicious to tell Everyone knows I am going to hell…

Hozier - It Will Come Back

I know who I am when I'm alone I'm something else when I see you You don't understand, you should never know How easy you are to need

Nightwish - Bare Grace Misery

There's no such priest That can pray me to heaven When done with me Forget if you think I feel ashamed A wild thing Never felt sorry for anything

The Gathering - A Life All Mine

We might be dogs astray No running line will hold us So rather kick and kill me I'll be butchered all the same

[tieflingtareon]

There's Nothing Wrong Contemplating Gods (You're in the wind, I'm in the water)

[A 'My Love, Are You the Devil' prequel]

Chapter 1 | Words: 4.1k

Summary: "The past is lost to you. Let me clear up some mysteries, then. We share so much history." The history between Tir'yal, Child of Bhaal, and Enver, the Chosen of Bane explained in a non-linear format.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51625999/chapters/130498312

Tir’yal circled the desk slowly, his dagger dragging across the edge of the wood ever so lightly. Enver was late. Again. He’d been absent for several days now, and it was beginning to grate on his nerves.

He wasn’t sure when he started to expect letters. Coded or otherwise. Usually coded. Enver was well studied in the art of languages, just as he was well studied in most things. Machinery, magic, politics — there wasn’t anything that man couldn’t learn to do with his mind or hands. It was…admirable. Tir’yal rarely met anyone who was on his level when it came to intellect. Enver always provided stimulating conversation, even on topics Tir’yal did not care for.

It had been a tenday since he had a decent conversation with another soul, and it was making him irritated. Irritation made him more prone to slicing throats to shut up dimwitted fools. Enver praised him for his self control, but it was held on a fine leash at all times when it came to any other but him, and Father, of course.

“Oh Vile Master, you’ve been brooding far too long! Shouldn’t you be out there, striking fear into the hearts of mortal men?” Sceleritas appeared at his side with a tut of disapproval. Such a mouthful of a name for a butler. Tir'yal usually just called him 'Fel'. “Your Father thinks you have been wasting too much time in the office of Bane’s worshipper this season. You could be out in the street, wetting your blade, continuing your experiments. Oh, your lovely experiments - your pickling methods are quite divine." He laughed.

“I’m waiting for him to arrive. Experiments can wait. It’s unlike him to be absent from his office for so many days.”

“Perhaps you should take it as a sign, Milord…?” Fel offered and Tir’yal glared down at the butler with murderous intent, making the butler chuckle. “Oh please, Young Master, be reasonable. Your Father only ever asks blood and worship of you. Surely you can spare him a single night? You've been distracted, slacking, but we can get you back on the path of shameless barbarity in no time!"

Tir’yal rumbled a growl low in his chest but considered it.

“Find out where Enver is hiding, and I will spill enough blood tonight to make up for the nights I have been absent to Father’s call. Will that satisfy?"

“You know he does not like when you bargain like that, Milord.” Fel sighed, but Tir’yal already knew he’d relent to his wishes. He was his butler after all, even if Bhaal created him, his purpose was the serve his son. “A nasty habit you’ve gained since meeting that Banite.”

“It is a skill most useful. I’d be a fool to say otherwise.” Tir’yal quirked a brow, waiting for Fel to give in. The butler sighed and popped away, leaving Tir’yal alone to wait on his return. He used his dagger to clean the grime from beneath his claws. He hoped Father was not too disgruntled with him. He did intend to keep his word, but he knew he’d be in no mood for bloodshed if he didn’t have answers. Enver never remained far from reach, and to have his contact limited in such a way without any warning…It bugged him.

After a few minutes, Fel returned, giving a gracious bow.

“Bane’s Lordling resides within his God’s temple, to the east of here.” He informed and Tir’yal frowned.

“And what was he doing?”

“I’m afraid I cannot say. I am not permitted to enter the grounds of another God, Milord. All I know is that his stink lingers there." Fel pulled a face like he'd smelt something disgusting. His butler always did have a sensitive nose, remarking on the foul stench of many.

“I see…Thank you, Fel. Take leave.” Tir’yal slotted his dagger away and made for the window.

“Where are you going, Master?”

“To visit the temple of Bane.” Tir’yal answered, shutting the window sharply behind him as Fel started up with his worrying babble about Father being displeased. It was obvious to him that the only way he’d get in contact with Enver is if he went to the temple himself. Father may not like it, but if he’d learnt anything from his partnership with Enver, it was that connections mattered in the real world. Keeping connections strong was key to successful alliances.

Not that he had many of those. He didn’t have use for many others. Enver was an exception. He provided him with easy kills, and Tir’yal provided him with an extra step on his ladder of dead and ‘missing’ persons to the top. Ever since their first heist together, he knew he could trust Enver as far as he could throw him, which was far enough to be out of range of a thunderwave, so it was good enough for him.

Tir'yal remembered very little past the age of ten, but after the first heist and a few cups of wine to celebrate, Enver had told him they'd once been good friends as children. He figured that alone was good enough reason to ally themselves together. He may be okay with killing those he cared for, but he doubted Enver would betray him given their past. Not without good reason at least. Humans were sentimental like that, and Enver wasn't stupid. Enver knew they had a good alliance going. They were both useful to each other, and they benefited from working together.

Tir’yal had never been to the temple of Bane before. His own home, his own temple, was locked far out of reach of others. Not even Enver knew it’s location. Tir’yal only knew the location of Bane’s because he followed the man once before to the place. Enver himself rarely made an appearance in the building from his knowledge, so to be there now struck him as strange. Had he been there for past tenday, hidden from the world?

He looked at the temple hidden in the side of the mountain and walked up to the steps without hesitation, despite the baneguards outside. One looked ready to draw it's blade before it paused. Tir'yal tilted his head at the skeleton.

"Yes?" He waited to see if the creature would strike, but it didn't, instead stepping aside for him to proceed inside. He wondered if that was by Enver's order. The creatures may have been raised by the clerics of Bane, but they seemed to take orders from Enver, and by extension Bane, these days. Though, he was no adventurer or scavenger, and maybe they knew that. Maybe that made him an exception to the ones they'd usually skewer.

He continued inside with his head held high, surveying the hallway. He doubted any of the worshippers there would halt the infamous son of Bhaal either. He received a strange look from one clergy, and a small glare from another the deeper he went, but as he predicted, nobody stopped him. Perhaps they knew he would not hesitate to cut them down. Well…he might. These were Enver’s fellow cultists after all. Would he take offence if he reacted in self defence? Was it truly self defence if he knew he could kill them with ease?

He turned to a worshipper in a dark robe and held the hilt of his sheathed dagger, tilting his head at them.

“Where does Lord Gortash reside?”

“You are not welcome in the Dark One’s temple, Bhaalspawn.” The woman looked at him from beneath her hood, eyes as dark as coal and her face covered in ink. “You may wonder, but you are not owed answers. The child of a slave is still bound by the same chains.”

Tir’yals stared down at her and smiled even as white hot rage burned inside him.

“If you ever insult my Father like that again, I’ll flay the skin and muscle from your bones.” He did not need to snarl or growl to get his threat across. The ice in his voice and the smile on his lips was enough. “I’ll take your tongue and feed it to you, extract your innards and hang them from the torches in your halls to honour my creator. I’ll only ask once more. Where is your most faithful? Do be quick. I don’t typically give third chances. Though, I’m happy to give you more if you allow me to take a finger and toe every time you fail to provide information.”

The woman was silent a long moment, her face hidden by her hood, her hand wrapped around the hilt of her own sword. Tir’yals patience was growing thin, the Urge stirring with ravenous hunger, clicking his dagger free as he heard footsteps. Familiar ones he had long ago imprinted to his memory.

“Why...what a surprise.” Enver clapped his hands together, genuinely looking a little caught off guard. He hadn’t been expecting him. “Child of Bhaal, standing before me in the Dark One’s temple. Have you finally come to swear your allegiance to the more powerful God?” Enver chuckled and Tir’yal huffed, stowing his blade away and glaring at the cloaked woman.

“My Father’s power rivals Banes own. Do not insult me by asking such a question.” His eyes ran over his figure. His white and silver robes had been replaced with an outfit as pitch black as a moonless night, lacking embellishments. The pleated robe remained untied, the pants likely an expensive leather from what Tir'yal knew of the man, his black shirt draping over his frame and open wide at the collar, the cloth looking like a delicate chiffon a nobleman would wear to bed. He looked both comfortable yet dressed up all at once, his dark hair tied back from his face, the short ponytail curling around one side of his neck, and a single dark silver bead hanging from a thin braid. That annoying long yet short part that couldn't stay with the rest of the ponytail or match with the length of his bangs.

“We can leave that debate for another day.” Enver mused and patted his back. “Come, come, I was just on my way to the prayer hall.” He guided the Bhaalspawn along with a hand on his back, cane clinking against the stone floors. His knee must have been acting up, to use it in front of his fellow cultists. It was colder in the temple than in his office. Enver treated his cane like decoration on the days he had to go into public with it, but more often than not, he left it in his office or chambers and bore the pain of the old injury with a calm smile.

“What in the Nine Hells brought you here, Tir’yal?” Enver asked, voice softer now, more inquisitive. Less boastful when it was just the two of them. He liked hearing the difference between the way Enver spoke with him and with everybody else. “I’d think your Father would rather hang you than let you step a foot into this temple.”

“I made a bargain.”

“Oh?” He sounded intrigued.

“I’ll kill some extra people in his name tonight. To appease him.”

“He is easily appeased, that Father of yours.” Enver drawled as they entered a dimly lit room. The artificer conjured up a small flame on the tip of his finger and lit a few more candles, the orange glow of them illuminating the shiny coat of the black gauntlet.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” Tir’yal stated bluntly and Enver’s eyebrows raised, but did not jump. Like he was expecting his words.

“Now, why ever would you think that?” Enver blew out the flame on his finger and stared at him with dark, murky eyes, waiting for him to respond.

“…You haven’t sent a single letter to me in a tenday. You haven’t been in your office in the evenings, like you usually are.”

“Has your sister really bored you that much in my absence that you had to come here?” Enver smoothed his fingers over the table and rubbed away the faint layer of dust on his skin with a purse of his lips. Somebody was slacking. “Alas, it's my duty to keep a watchful eye over this place. Make sure it’s tidy. Keep it orderly.”

“Orin is Orin. I need not get into that." Tir'yal suppressed an eye roll. "Duty or not, you are never out of reach. I don’t like it when you disappear so suddenly, without a word. Should something happen, we need to remain informed.”

“Dearest, if you missed me, you can just say so.” Enver smirked.

"Have you been here this whole time?" Tir'yal ignored his flirtatious commentary. He'd seen him use the same line on plenty of noble men and women before, and he would not allow it to get beneath his skin.

"Ah, well...not the entire time, but yes. I've been...called here, I suppose. Bane has not yet told me why, but all we can do as the faithful of Gods is have patience. Heed their calls and wait for their commands." Enver pursed his lips. "Though, the space here for my work is tediously small in comparison to my office, or my workshop."

He waved the compliant off, like it didn't really matter in the grand scheme of things.

“Come. Come close. Fill me in on your eventual tenday without my company while I pray.”

“I shouldn’t be here to begin with. I serve my creator, my Father, not Bane.” To stand in front of another God's altar was blasphemous enough. He was only glad Fel couldn't follow him inside and keep his prying eye on him for Father.

“What difference does it make if you aren’t the one praying? Bane may not be your God, but he is mine, and you are encroaching on time that is reserved for him.” Enver scowled, not taking kindly to Tir'yals flippancy in his Lord's temple. “You’re already here anyway, against your Father’s wishes. Usually I do not mind praying in my office, but I worked hard to build this temple up from the rubble it once was in this city. You can go, or you can stand and wait. Neither are of concern to me.”

Enver huffed and with the help of his cane, he came to kneel before the altar without buckling, placing the cane in front of him and folding his hands over in his lap, eyes falling shut. He bowed his head to the black gauntlet, promptly ignoring the other. Anyone else wouldn't dare turn their back to a Bhaalspawn, but he knew Tir'yal well enough that he could keep his compulsions in check. For the most part, unlike his darling sister, Orin.

Tir'yals lip twitched, the urge to snarl back barely repressed. He supposed Enver was right. He usually was. It was hard for a literal genius to be wrong. He huffed softly and leaned back against the wall by the door, watching the other.

Bane's altar was different to Bhaal's. There was no sacrificial slab, nor blood or gore...the room was fairly pristine actually. No clutter. Even with all the offerings on the table before Enver, it was organised. Something he knew the man instinctively wasn't from what he'd seen in his office and workshop. His eyes wandered along the walls, the grand statue behind the gauntlet of the one who once made a servant of his own Father.

Bhaal knew making allies after his resurrection was necessary, but he didn't have to like it. His Father reminded him often of how much he disliked the Banite he kept as company, even if he was useful to them, and would continue to be. Tir'yal could feel it, the restlessness in his Father as of recent. He wasn't one to question him, but he was curious to what Bhaal was planning. He rarely kept secrets from him, or so he liked to think. Father loved him, much more than any other of his children, and he loved him back with ferocity, even when he forced his hand with the Urge.

Tir'yal did not dislike murder, but there was...he supposed he didn't like purposeless murder, even if he enjoyed the gore. Which was ironic, given who he was. His compulsions. Murder needed a reason, and Enver gladly provided reasons when he gave him his targets, but Tir'yal also liked to feel things when he murdered. Not his Father's bloodlust or the cultists cold detachment, or Gods forbidden the maniacal joy Orin derived from it. There was so much more satisfaction in killing those who invoked rage in him, who made it feel like more than an itch scratched, like the first time.

There had been reason for his first true massacre. Bhaal's love. An expression of devotion to his creator, who could have taken back what he gave in an instant. There had been feelings when he did sunk his blade into flesh, intense, soul crushing feelings that made the deaths mean so much more. The grief he felt, mixed with the desperate worship had felt addictive. Nothing had ever compared to that, as much as he tried to replicate it. Nothing could compare to watching the light leave the eyes of his parents who raised him from infancy, or the blood-choked sobs from his brothers lips upon the altar. The betrayal that he had felt from them and even himself. Bitter and sweet all at once.

Their deaths had been necessary to start over, to become Bhaals. His family had tried to change him, to shame him for his compulsions, for his true nature, even as they repeated how much they loved him, how much they cared. And he had cared too, in his own way...but the only one who would accept the true him was Bhaal. His real Father.

The grief had been worth the unconditional love of his creator.

So he gave in. Sure, there were times he refused to kill, but that was because of his own weaknesses. He lived as a human too long before he accepted his true destiny, and Father said it left a stain on his soul. But that he could cover it with blood and let it be forgotten beneath the viscera of others. So when he weakened, when he failed, those were the times he paid his penance in blood. Often his own. He was happy to give it, to cover the stains of humanity on his soul, to try and cut and bleed it out of himself. All in the efforts to be Bhaal's favoured son.

And he was. He was Father's, made of his blood and divine essence. There was nowhere else he could go, no one else he could be. Bhaal was everything, and he belonged to him. His purpose was to be his, his executioner, his slayer, his blade - his heir.

It was the greatest honour that could be bestowed upon him.

His eyes fell to Enver as the man raised his head and turned his cheek to his shoulder, his eyes not focused on the other, but to the darkness of the room. The glow of the candles caressed his features, and Tir'yal admired the curling and flickering shadows across the humans face.

"He's near. Can you feel it?" Enver tilted his chin up, dark eyes clashing with the glowing eyes of his companion. "He’s getting closer every day, speaking to me more and more clearly, rather than in whispers." Enver's eyes shone in the low light, enraptured by the heavy presence cloaking his shoulders, unseen but known. Bane was with them, with him.

"My peers think him a distant god, but I know better. He and I have a connection like no other.” He turned back towards the gauntlet and bowed his head, using his cane to help him stand back up, back straight and head held high. Tir'yals tail gave a small flick as he approached slowly. Cautious. The air in the room had changed, now that it was brought to his attention.

“A decade of worship...and not once has he truly left me." Enver smiled. "I knew one day he'd reward my efforts in his name." The candlelight warped, flicking wildly as Tir'yal came to stand beside the other, eyeing the statue wearily. Enver did not seem concerned in the slightest even as the shadows of the room seemed to bleed further towards them, towards the tinkerer. Tir'yal gripped the hilt of his blade tighter on instinct.

"Don’t you feel it too?" Enver's smile only grew wider, his grin crinkling the bags beneath his eyes. A bitingly cold breeze past over Tir'yal and he sucked in a sharp breath, Enver's robe rustling as the man exhaled out a cloud of mist. "The presence of our Gods are getting stronger each day. They feed off our work in their name. And we only help them grow stronger.”

The flames of the candles extinguished with a gust, leaving them in pitch black. Enver laughed, warm and full bodied.

"Tonight. Tonight, I think we reap the benefits of our labours." Enver whispered an incantation, the blue dancing lights coming from his palm enveloped in shadows, turning it a dark grey colour. Enver's eyes shone, and Tir'yal was certain he would be the only one who would ever see pure elation on the artificers face. There was fascination in his eyes, something he only held for his precious machines.

Enver's hand flexed and with a crackle, the twirling lights becoming laced with golden accents.

"Tonight, we become more than servants to our Gods." Enver looked up at him and Tir'yal couldn't help but stare. Enver looked otherworldly, caressed by the golden flickers of his spell. "I have no doubts your Father awaits. You should go to him."

Enver extinguished the light with a flick of his wrist and took Tir'yals arm, acting as the lead between them towards the door, but Tir'yal knew he was the only one who could actually see in the darkness, guiding the man out of the main prayer room.

Beneath torch light, Enver looked even more windswept, hair messy and robe near slipping from one shoulder. He could see in his eyes that he was much too preoccupied mentally to even notice. Tir'yal pinched the seam and righted the robe before stepping away from him, Enver's attention coming back to him.

"Go. I will see you tomorrow, in my office. I imagine we'll have much to discuss. I have a good feeling."

"If you say so..." Tir'yal hesitated before turning his back to the Banite, his claws rapping against the hilt of his dagger. He found his way back to the front entrance of the temple and made his way down the steps, Fel appearing before him.

"Oh Master, you stink!" The butler complained. "Like smoke and burning metal. I knew telling you where Bane's faithful was was an awful idea." He tutted. "You didn't even come out with any blood on you!"

"I think I'm ready to spill some though. Thank you, Fel." Tir'yal smiled and looked back at the temple. Something about tonight was special. Enver was certain about it.

Tir'yal would be a fool to believe the man wrong.

He smiled, mind stuck replaying the look of elation on the Banite's face, the warm fingers curled around his bicep, the near see-through material of his bed shirt, soft against his skin. It felt only right to kill the first dark haired man he saw, relishing in the warm blood as it poured over his hand, his blade, twisting it in a sharp turn of his wrist before pulling out half way, thrusting it back in deeper.

The choked cry from the man made his skin burn, but it wasn't quite the right note he'd been hoping for. He'd have to find someone else to finish the melody in his mind, to satisfy the tune he was creating as he spilt blood and hummed all the while, waiting for just that perfect pitch that would scratch the itch.

He didn't find it that night before he retired to his chambers, still painted in crimson. He thought maybe he'd find it in his dreams. Yet, all he found was a haze of red, his Father's presence wrapping around him, clinging to his skin.

"My Son," He whispered, calling him closer to sink into the pool of red, to let it envelop him. Growing louder as Tir'yal walked into his bloody embrace. "My Chosen."

When he opened his eyes the next morning, the first words on his lips were a reverent whisper of his Father's name.

But his first thought was of Enver Gortash, Bane's Chosen.

[daemon-in-my-head]

7 and 9 for the new ask, hit me w/ those genesis stories ✌️

Thank u sm for asking! Don't mind if I do (though this might get very fucked up at some point, just a heads up lol)

7. Is their personal story represented in their overall design? Do they carry any mental scars or physical alterations from the shit that happened to them?

Yes, so goddamn much. Essentially every 'milestone' in his life is in some way represented in his visual design and most definitely in his behaviour.

He's got the scar on his cheek/nose from the time before Bhaal, or more specifically from getting his ass handed to him in training sessions to join a Paladin order. And well seeing how he is a Sorcadin, yeah the training did work out longterm too. The change to red eyes was a result of the urge fully manifesting and the pallid/sickly pale skin is the result of prolonged exposure to the shadow curse. He pretty much looks sick and not the way an elf should, cuz arguably, he isnt, is he? He was someone artifically created, someone whos majorly fucked up and his mental health is rotting in that corner over there, so he looks that part (bonus he uses the only sorcery type that can be artifically learned as opposed to normal sorcery that is always passed down.)

Overall he's gained a lot more scars over his time, his hair started growing lighter before he got white streaks/completely white hair due to the stress of simply existing in that way. And while his original eye colour kinda returns, it's only for one eye. Cuz even if ya redeem yourself, being created from bhaals flesh and essence kinda prevents you from wholly getting rid of him, so one eye remained red. Which he eventually gauged out cuz yeah that man is 1000% definitely sane and learned how to cope with his emotions properly. The remaining eye is also pretty fucked up thx to Orins homemade lobotomy, which honestly was pretty important to me cuz yeah he survived the story, survived bhaal, but it fucked him up and left very permanent scars he'll have to learn how to deal with (but he won't.)

The struggles with his past, his own existence and his own contradictory nature are very apparent in his design as well as his behaviour and it was important to me that he's that way fucked up failure kinda guy. Also the fact that you can't go thru the shit he had to endure and come out of it looking the same or being the same. He's bruised, quite broken, definitely lost most of his sanity but he did get to reclaim some agency and some parts of the person that was seemingly eradicated when Bhaal first took over. Life changes you, time changes you, and if you're a Bhaalspawn shit usually grows worse with time, so it makes sense his looks also grow from pretty boy to broken doll and that his controlled nature grows more unstable with time and experience (cuz ya can't loose basically everyone you ever held just a sliver of affection for and come out of it being cool, that mans obsession just grow exponentially worse).

Tldr; very fucked up man, physically and mentally a rep of struggle with your own mind and being a broken child ig. Loss and grief and the unavoidable change resulting from it as overarching themes and I wanted them to show in every way possible.

9. How much did Bhaal influence their design or personality in the end? Did you research lore to purposefully get the resemblance or do you just go with the flow and what feels right for the story you want to tell?

I'd never spend hours researching Bhaalist lore, naaaaah, who do u think I am....? He usually wears the priests robes. Straight up.

But cuz he's a rebellious little fuck the look is messy, with 1 sleeve just hanging from the belt that's barely tying the purple cloth together. Whenever he's not wearing that it's just simple black clothes and an old coat he brought from 'home' or fancy shit (though white/red colour scheme to contrast Gortash) whenever he needs to drag himself to deal with the patriars.

As for personality, oh boy. He loves Bhaal. Truly. Bhaal is his creator, his father, the reason he exists. And he absolutely loathes him because he's the reason for all the pain and suffering he needed to endure. He controlls him like a puppet and forces him to discard even the tiniest bit that's left of his person, but even so Bhaal is also the only reason he got to enjoy the youth he had and meet the people he met. Without him he may have never come to exist in this time period. Every choice he makes can be traced back to this twisted mindset. He's worshipping Bhaal while actively rebelling against him

I will one day get to finishing a ref! Maybe.

[crossdressingdeath]

The Netherbrain: You think you know why you are here. You think you can atone for giving me my power, child of Bhaal, by destroying me with the Netherstones. You are wrong. The Emperor: It's messing with your mind. Don't listen to it. Use the stones. The Netherbrain: By eliminating Ketheric and Orin, you have simply unbound me. Exactly as I intended. The Crown is now mind to command - mine alone. The Emperor: Don't listen to it! Focus on the Crown! Kyvir: [CHARISMA] Nothing is immune to influence - determine to master the brain. The Netherbrain: You placed the Crown upon me in the depths of Moonrise Towers, and there I was born. The Crown is not my weakness - it is what made me what I am.

Okay, so we know that Durge was still an active part of the Chosen when they put the Crown on the brain. Canon confirmation that Gortash's memoir is full of shit! Also, this suggests that Durge was the one who actually crowned the thing, which might help explain its apparent fondness for them.

Also: obsessed with the brain going "You think you can atone for what you did by destroying me but you can't." It's such a fun potential thing to play into in a Durge run, this idea of them trying to destroy the brain specifically to atone for what they did. "Former villain trying to atone by bringing an end to what they created" is a classic. And this one's especially fun, because... yeah, Durge does make things worse before they get better by killing Ketheric and Orin and destabilizing the Chosen's control over the brain. Also with Durge their crimes go so far beyond just crowning the brain it's not even funny. But Durge being prepared to risk their life to stop the brain not (just) because it's the right thing to do but out of a desperate desire to atone for what they did as Bhaal's Chosen... oh it's so good I love it. Also the Emperor telling them not to listen to it is very fun when it's actually making some very good points. Like... I can't speak to what it says if you're not playing Durge, but "You can't atone for causing this by destroying me" would hit a lot of Durges hard! They really might need someone telling them not to listen and insisting that the brain is just messing with them! I kind of wish that during the last conversations going into the final stretch there was an option for Durge to bring up what the brain says here... Come on, let the companions comfort their dear friend/lover just a little.

[wick-de-la-vela]

Durge ask game, 1, 3, 7!

1. Does he miss his foster family? Why/why not?

This ask question made me realize that, oh yeah, my Dark Urge can actually remember his family! That's kind of important!

I think he does miss parts of his family and his old life, though often just from the perspective that most people yearn for childhood for (aka, the lack of paperwork! Running a cult is serious business! Do you know how many permits you need for that in Baldur's Gate???)

He had two moms, and was one of four adopted children. He got along with one of them (a little half-orc about his age named Fortune who loved hunting frogs and running through creeks), but the others not so much.

When he killed the family, he was extremely meticulous in planning the order in which it was done, the best location and method for it, etc. For the most part he favored cold, calculated killing. Efficiency is the name of his game. However, for his adopted older brother who bullied him sort of relentless, he allowed for a more gruesome death.

3. What did he do after Sceleritas fetched him from his adoptive home?

Great question!!! I envision him as using that sweet sweet high CHA score he has + being for all intents and purposes a poor defenseless child to bounce around from house to house, eventually killing those who housed them when the Urge called. He worked a few odd jobs that allowed him to keep his ear to the ground (and provide a steady supply of victims).

He worked for a couple years as a barback in a few of the city's less reputable inns and taverns. Additionally, he did stints as a sailor for a few months at a time, though that wasn't feasible long term (only so many people can horrifically die on a ship before you're caught out).

At one point, a visiting sage tried to get him shipped off to a wizarding school because of his natural affinity for magic, but he fled before that could come to fruition.

Finally, he took work as a hired sword (and staff?) to sate the Urge completely naturally. This put him in very interesting positions throughout the city, giving him reasons to play bodyguard to wealthy players in the city, as well as giving him occasional access to more seedy locations like Nine-Fingers' guildhall and Zhent outposts. Because of this last especially, he was eventually guided to the decrepit Temple of Bhaal, began using his earnings to refurbish it a little and put out recruiting ads, and that's history!

7. Did they have any other connections/companions in the city outside the local underground.

Yes, actually! First and foremost are the cultists. They have day jobs, for the most part, and are often nicely positioned as a spy network.

One cultist in particular, Desdemona, does Bhaal's work within the Open Hand Temple as a cleric of Ilmater. She's highly efficient and has gone unnoticed for years, making her particularly useful as an ally.

Amira is fond of him, under the impression that he's a particularly secretive lover Gortash favors.

Generally, because of my Dark Urge's airtight control over himself, he's able to charm his way into and out of most any situation he needs to :3