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medra-gonbites · 5 months ago

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Baldur's Gate 3 Companion Head Canon Filmmaker Edition

Depending on your crew, filmset can be the best time or the worst time of your life! While kicking back and playing Baldur’s Gate I started to wonder what kind of positions would the gang assume on a filmset.

Here is my personal HeadCanon for the tadfools (+ Jaheira, Halsin, the Dead Three and Withers) if they were to be on a film set.

Astarion | Costume

Of course Astarion would be in charge of the costume department! Not only because he can sew and design the best costumes with utmost skill, if you provide him with nothing but rags, but also because he would make sure the actors are always decent and taken care of. End of a risqué scene? Boom, he is already there with a robe, some blankets and a water bottle. “Let’s take you back to the changing room darling!"

Besides he is very fast and stealthy which would be a perfect time saver for in between takes: last minute check and tweak before we start rolling? Watch him dash to unwrinkle fabrics or refasten pins: 0 second lost.

Shadowheart | Production Design

Shadowheart would love to be in charge of the decor. Already in pre-production she would have a blast skimming flea markets and brocantes to find props and elements to create the perfect set, although she would probably be able to craft it from scratch if needed be, and could create an atmosphere with nothing but cardboard if she had to. She would keep track of all the props and organize them in a neat fashion. She would be so focused there is no chance you would end up with a continuity error (not in her department anyways!).

Karlach | Light Technician

Karlach has a light crew vibe to herself. She would run around rolling and unrolling cables, carrying and setting up C stands, activating generators, going as far as powering them herself if she has to. Watch her set up the lights and filters like it's nobody’s business. Sandbags? No worries she can carry 20 at a time. She can hold a reflective panel above her head for hours without breaking a sweat. Friendly and motivated, she is a wonder to work with and the camera crew has no issues communicating and coordinating with her. Tell her what needs to be lit and she will make sure it is. Let there be light!

Wyll | Acting

The charisma, these dance skills, the whole blade of frontier performance that radiates main character energy? You cannot convince me Wyll is not born to stand under the spotlight or in front of the cameras. At the beginning of his carrier had a preference for theater but he prefers cinema because it gives him the opportunity to do several takes and indulge his perfectionist side. He would be on set early to rehearse and he would be an absolute treasure to the rest of the crew. Very talented and humble, the best actor to work with!

Gale | Director of Photography

I will not budge: Gale would be in charge of the imagery. What angle, what move, what ratio, what color? He'd know what’s best to tell the story and his composition would always be on point. He’s got 10 different lenses, he made the shotlist six months before the shoot and he went on all the location scouting rekkie, even the ones he did not have to attend. He also checked the location at different hours to have a look at the natural light change through the day. He is very patient with his assistants and with the lighting crew which he would always give a hand to set up the lamps (literally thanks to the old mage hand). Don’t touch his camera though, he will fight you.

Lae’zel | First Assistant Director

“Ok, we have a schedule and we have to make sure we respect it. How much time do you need to build this scene? 10 minutes? Do it in 5!”. Lae’zel would be such an efficient first AD but she also would become the scapegoat of the set because of how demanding and blunt she would be. She doesn't mind and she knows its a status that often comes with the job. At the end of the day, everyone would get to leave on time though (or barely a few hours of overtime) and everyone would be grateful for it. You can and you will have a drink with her afterwards and all will be forgiven.

Halsin | Safety Coordinator

Obviously, Halsin would be in charge of safety; because film is fun and should remain fun, no matter how serious it is for some: nobody is getting hurt on his watch!

Intense traumatic scene with an actor? He will be a perfect intimacy coordinator: he knows how to handle personal space and aftercare. Tricky stunt? He’s got a first-aid kit ready (not that you will need it as he made sure all equipment necessary for the stunt are secure). Animal Handling? Yes, he got that covered too, the creatures will be treated as royalty and he can even shape shift to keep them company. Child actor on set? Did he mention he can take care of that too? Beyond all this he will make sure everyone in general is keeping healthy, calling for breaks, making sure everyone has enough to drink and/or eat which he will remind the whole crew to do because they tend to forget.

Minthara | Production Manager

Yes, Minthara has arranged the location, the catering, the shooting authorization and pretty much all the rentals that you need for the day. You better be on time on her set: the call sheet is precise and so should you. She will make sure everything that has been arranged will proceed as expected but should the unexpected occur last minute? Well that’s not a problem because she is cool as ice and can perform under pressure like none. There, she fixed it, and with an hour to spare. After the production, she will chase you and spam 3 reminders a day for you to send your invoice and receipts (she gotta book everything for the accountant!).

Jaheira | Location Manager

Jaheira is the first and the last on set. She gets the keys to places, she relays the instructions on where to find what, what is off limits and what can or cannot be used. She will make sure everyone parks at the right spots, that people that are outside of sets are not hindered by your crew, and that the place is given back clean (or cleaner even). She is always very sweet to the person in contact, be it the owner of the location you're shooting at, the caterer or curious bystanders who come to investigate. She also keeps an eye on the carpooling schedule. Nobody will be forgotten on her watch.

Minsc | Boom Operator

Minsc is in charge of taking sound. He listens carefully to every take to make sure there are no parasites or interference; if he doubts he will ask Boo to double check for him. He will mic up the actor very gently, giving them funny lines to say to test the mic. He finds it hilarious to call out farts when he hears them in his headphones; he will then ask loudly who it was. Often it is himself.

Tav | Writer/Director

It is their story and you better believe they will see it through. They wrote the damn thing, they gathered the right crew and they will direct it all. They call the shots and make the decisions. At the end of the day they call action and cut. Whether it is a happy or bad ending, the story will have 3 to 5 acts and it will be sent out to all the A list festivals of Toril.

Durge | Director/Producer

It is their story too but they did not write it, however they did make sure it was possible to make it by any means necessary! They are in charge and they even have a cap and a chair to prove it. They had a megaphone too at some point but it was misplaced (stolen by Astarion who got fed up with all the yelling).

The Dead Three | Executive producer

These three are power hungry, ruthless and bloodthirsty, of course they are producers! They know where the money is, they know how to get it, they know who to play and sweet talk to get it. Orin tends to be more artistically involved in the project but Gortash has the people’s touch and will be in charge of handling communication and distribution. Ketheric will make sure the money gets where it needs to go and will be in contact with the subsidies and fundings to provide reports and deliverables.

Withers | Storyboard

It is Tav and Durge’s story but Withers illustrated it. Visualization goes a long way for the whole crew and it is nice to have something to fall back on when the chaos of the shot list overwhelms you. Thanks Boneman!

Do you agree with this? Do you have other characters in mind that could be useful on set?

Did this spark an AU fanfic idea within me? Maybe...

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keter-kannot · 2 months ago

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AAAAAA it's been awhile, I know 😭 BUT the world's loveliest anon gave me a kick in the ass by commissioning this absolutley banger piece of f!TavxMizora. I hope you freaks enjoy 😌

Coms are still open btw!! Prices pinned :)

Word Count: 6.5k

tw: noncon, dubcon, Resisting, implied abuse, blood, breath play, gagging, basically just s*x slavery lmao DDNE you've been warned !!!

Mizora’s words rang through your skull as you mulled over any and every possible option she’d be throwing your way once you made it back to camp.

You see, she'd purred, Gortash has had Wyll's father… relocated.

No matter how hard you thought, you couldn’t think of any ways to combat her. It was useless; this wasn’t your first time fighting a devil, a demon, the utterance of the very word unholy… You knew it wouldn’t be as easy as a counter-plan. She must truly want something from Wyll–from you–to be playing such a game.

You were so damn tired of all their games. Your blood ran hot through your veins, the anger rising up within you making you scowl, muttering under your breath as the small group of you marched back to camp beneath the watching eyes of Lathander’s setting sun.

These were games created with the sole purpose of making sure the other players couldn’t win, yet you kept finding yourself falling into one after another. Between Raphael’s constant pop-ups and requests, and all of Mizora’s other demands, it truly made you wonder whether or not you had any free will left in you.

That was a little wrong of you to think, though, considering Wyll’s plight and Karlach’s… well, Karlach. And, for what it’s worth, you’d managed to wiggle your way out of making any deals with them so far. For all the anxious nerves bouncing around inside you, you still tried to calm yourself.

How bad could it be?

—

You paced the hard ground of your camp, waiting. Wyll watched from the corner he sat in, while the rest of the camp made themselves busy with some miscellaneous task or another. When you met Wyll’s gaze, you sighed, shaking your head and looking away as you continued your relentless steps across the trodden soil.

“If… we have to do everything we can to save my father,” Wyll muttered, standing to join you in your pacing.

You nodded, rolling your eyes. “Obviously, Wyll,” you shrugged, “but what is it that you think she’ll ask for in return?”

There was a sudden shift in the atmosphere of the darkened room, the warm light of the flickering candles suddenly turning to the cold of smoking ash. Sweat beaded at your brow as you all turned to face the inky black circle forming itself in front of you, its gentle ring of searing flame lighting the room with a devious glow. The air buzzed with electricity, Mizora's dark form emerging from the entrance to the hells. You watched as the oozing black facade receded, revealing the wide smirk adorning her pronounced lips.

The theatrics of her entrance had you rolling your eyes, but then you heard the uncouth words falling from her lips with bold purpose. They weren’t in any language that you could understand, her breath hot as she boasted her arms forward, beckoning two more small black portals to grow from the ground behind them.

“Come, Sisters, be my testament!” she called, more dark words of mysterious meaning falling from her tongue, her sharp teeth on display as she smiled into the darkening night sky. Two forms began their ascent from the depths of the world, their figures matching Mizora’s in the way they demanded your gaze to drink in their entire presence.

You’ve heard of such devils; Sisters of Justice. Adjudicators of devious contracts and bargains. You thought of all you knew of them as you watched their winged forms spread themselves out before you, their eyes meeting yours with a fierce, raging hunger that you couldn’t quite stomach.

Wyll let out a ragged breath as he looked from one demon woman to another, his chest heaving with fear as he took in the supposed severity of a deal he was dreading to make. “Holy Hells,” he breathed, clenching his jaw as he took a step back, taking in the image laid before him.

“Interesting,” you quipped, “I didn’t remember sending out an invitation to the Sisters of Justice.”

Mizora’s smirk only grew at the playful tone in your voice, her eyes shining bright with newfound vigor and curiosity. “Oh, you curious little pup,” she tuted, clicking her tongue as she shook her head and crossed her arms, “We’ll be making an important bargain. It’s only right the Sisters bear witness.”

There was a tug deep within your core as she spoke, anger fueling you as you clenched your fists and looked from Wyll back to Mizora, then watching as the Sisters of Justice hovered above the ground.

Mizora continued to speak in a language only she and the Sisters understood, beckoning the despairingly frail parchment of Wyll’s contract to her perfectly manicured hands, relishing in the feeling of power as she held it before them.

“Your contract, Wyll,” her velvet voice wrapped itself against you, “signed in blood, forged in fire, bound in bone–”

There was a brief silence, the Sisters’ wing’s flinging open as they revealed themselves to the chill night air. Mizora’s words sent shivers down your spine as you looked to Wyll, who was trying to hold himself firm where he stood.

“–But not unbreakable.”

You glanced at Wyll and watched him stutter, his mouth opening and closing as he looked up at Mizora, then over at you.

“What are you proposing?” You asked, eyes growing dim as they met Mizora’s, trying to fight the flames in her own as she stalked you while she spoke.

“No contract is ended without sacrifice,” she lulled, flashing a smile at you both as you seemed to grovel below her. “A cost must be paid.”

Ah, and here it is.

You held your breath as she ascended with a heavy flutter of her wings, the tension in the room thick enough to cut making you feel claustrophobic under the she-devil’s gaze.

“Wyll Ravengard,” her voice boomed, a foreboding ethereal light capturing her essence as it rose around her. “A choice is before you.”

For as much as she spoke to Wyll, you knew she was addressing you in this choice to be made; she understood who’s decisions would matter most, who had the most at stake left to lose. While rebuilding a city without a Grand Duke seemed all but impossible–stopping the Grand Design even more so–Wyll was already in Mizora’s grip, presented as the perfect plaything to run her errands. There wasn’t much more she could get from him, besides enjoying his pain and suffering for eternity.

“Option one. I show you the way to your father. I guarantee him no harm except that from you and your allies. With this, you pledge your soul to me and the archdevil Zariel in a pact eternal.”

You could hear Wyll’s heavy heart sink deep within his chest, a stark resolve trying to mask the fear raging through him. It seemed he’d already made his decision, all but pulling you deeper into the rage you felt for Mizora and her brethren. You turned towards the Sisters of Justice, their smiles otherworldly in their lack of grace.

“Option two,” she said, watching him quiver and you broil, “I break your pact, and you are freed from your duty. Your father dies by his enemy's hand, and Baldur’s Gate loses its greatest champion.”

A murmur graced itself throughout the camp, everyone taking in the demands of the she-devil, waiting to hear her final option, her final offer.

But none came.

“Mizora, you arsehole,” Wyll muttered under his breath, hating himself for contemplating what held more value to him.

Karlach’s engine roared as her chest flamed. “Bloody Zariel, I won’t let her take Wyll!” She swore, stomping herself over to where Mizora had the two of you surrounded between herself and her Sisters.

Her wicked grin only grew as she watched you almost break under the pressure of it all. “Oh, my dearest pup,” she said, her voice like thick honey as she spoke to Wyll, but directed her gaze at you, “Choose your sacrifice.”

The anger grew and grew, the sensation of the electricity running through you with a current you didn’t recognize and a ferocity nothing has ever matched before. Wyll’s choice seemed to be clear to him as his brows furrowed even more, a deep breath taken at the expense of his composure.

“Choose,” Mizora said again, the irking pull of her voice causing the hair on your arms to stand on end. You watched as the fire upon the rings of the portal entrances seemed to grow more furious with life, licking up the suspended legs of the three women, waiting to consume them.

Wyll straightened himself where he stood, looking towards the rest of his companions with a small, sad smile. Shadowheart shook her head with a frown, stepping closer as Karlach started to plead with Wyll to think about himself–his eternal soul–forever indebted to Zariel and her demon’s war. Even Astarion, who’d seemed unfazed by the idea of an all-powerful demon woman, had peeked out from his tent to watch the drama unfold.

Mizora’s lip twitched as she watched you.

You felt the words leave your mouth before you’d thought of saying them. “No. I know that’s not what you want.”

The flames roared further as the colors of their tongues changed and grew, feeding off of your deliberate deference. Mizora’s brow rose, her eyes finally seeming to burst with her inner flames as her tongue licked across her lips, nodding slowly and with intent.

She clicked her tongue again, relaxing the hulking mass of her wings behind her as she allowed her feet to finally touch the trodden ground. Shadowheart took a step back as she started her approach towards the group of you, Wyll flinching with each step she took and Karlach gripping the handle of her ax with battle-worn knowledge.

Mizora stood before you, her visage bringing a sense of dread that seated itself so deeply in your core that you could all but taste the souls she reaped, the deals she’s made and those she’s damned to an eternal strife.

She continued her slow nod, her supple skin seeming to suck in the unnatural light of the portals around you. She leaned her cold lips near your ear, the sound of your teeth grating together meant to steady your mind but only bringing you closer to that violent edge.

“And what, my dear pup, is it that you think I want?”

There was a sudden shift to the tone of the room, a harsh darkness consuming you as you felt the last bits of heat left in the air being sucked away. The stark stillness of the space around you–the feeling of life between you and your companions all but missing as you wished yourself to look towards them, but couldn’t. The feel of Mizora’s lips against the skin of your ear had left you breathless, completely left in the mercy of a power you didn't understand.

Your words caught in your throat as you struggled to answer, knowing exactly what it was that she wanting, but not daring to admit it. You couldn’t help it, though; there was no way you could settle for less, for Wyll’s sake.

“Me.”

Her throaty laugh veiled your thoughts like a thick snowfall, drowning out the world around you as she took a step back, allowing your eyes to track over her body and think of every possible way you knew she’d make you suffer. The bounce of her chest as she hummed her low laugh made your hands twitch as you fought to restrain yourself from killing her, knowing it’d do no use in your predicament.

Karlach’s pleas got louder as Shadowheart continued to back away from the scene, Wyll’s mouth agape as he watched the two of you converse before him, unsure if sacrificing himself would be worth the horrors to come.

“Very good,” she nodded, her smile settling upon her face once again as she rocked back and forth on either foot with excited anticipation. “It seems you’re rather… observant,” she mumbled, snapping her fingers and keeping her eyes glued to yours as she flicked her wrist and sent Wyll’s contract away, a new one manifesting in its place.

Mizora’s fingers twirled around the smoke ridden air beside you, the deep red ink of this new contract glowing amidst the darkness.

“A third, and final, more… experimental choice, perhaps, but you couldn’t help but to pull my deepest desires right out of me, Tav.”

The Sisters of Justice seemed to stir where they hovered, their fangs glinting in the dim light of the dark red ink as they fought against seemingly invisible restraints.

Your heart thumped heavily in your chest, the sound of it ringing in your ears as you heard Wyll’s gentle pleading. “No, no, Tav, you can’t–”

“This contract I’ve so graciously written has a viable end date,” she started, a soft lilt in her voice as she paced with ease amongst you, “whereas Wyll’s does not, you understand,” she flicked the terrified man a wink, “so I feel as though when it comes to your fate, I’ve been countless times more generous.”

You lifted your chin, bringing your face to meet that of the written contract. Your eyes scanned over words you didn’t understand, jumbles of text becoming sentences that made no sense to you until Mizora spoke them.

“For the next hundred years, you remain obligated to…” she seemed to falter, if only for a second, the deep glare in her eyes telling of her intentions being purely her own desire. “Well, to me. To serving me.” She gestured at the contract as it wafted its way towards you, and she continued.

“In body, mind and soul, but only temporarily, mind you,” she tutted, letting a hand fall gracefully upon her hip as she looked towards you again. “And you’d be under my sworn protection. No harm will come to you, and I’d be an alliance in your cause.”

“You’re hiding something from me,” you stated, shaking your head. “What? How will I be serving you? Through blood? Battle? I’d be useless in Zariel’s war.”

She chuckled, a soft and arduous laugh meeting your ears as her smile seemed to grow. “Sexually, dear pup, however I’d dream it to be.”

What?

The silence was just as heavy as the tension, blanketing the camp like a nervous fog. Everyone’s ears seemed to perk, brows furrowing as it took a moment for them to fully understand what Mizora had proposed.

After a moment, it was Astarion’s heinous cackle that finally broke through it all. All eyes snapped towards where he stood outside his tent, all but doubling over in tears from hysteria. You felt your cheeks flame red with embarrassment, grinding your jaw as your eyes flicked from one of your companions to the next, willing yourself to think of something to say as Mizora continued her chortling.

She clicked her tongue again, shaking her head with the slow sort of seductiveness that only she had. “You don’t have much time to make a decision, hun,” she all but hissed.

You and Wyll locked eyes, unsure of how to feel. It’s as if he was begging himself to choke back his wordless pleas, wanting to be free of his pact and save his father, but never daring to ask you to condemn yourself to such a fate.

“Oh, Gods,” Astarion quipped, catching his breath as he leaned against the small stool beside his tent. “Absolutely priceless…” he laughed to himself.

Karlach shook her head and stood beside you as Jaheira finally made a hungover appearance from her own quarters, seemingly interested in the active display of power, wanting to see how it’d all play out. Shadowheart stood with a solid frown about her face, shoving Wyll with her boot as she urged him to say something. He remained silent, eyes wandering as if they were searching for something they would never find.

“Priceless for Wyll, mayhaps,” Mizora chortled, “Is that not what you were asking for?” she continued, gesturing to you in your stupor. She wafted the contract over to you yet again, letting it gently flutter into your hands.

“Consider yourself a lucky one, pup,” she hummed, lifting a nail to the tip of her lips, “So many would find this sort of proposition as a gift.”

You slowly began to shake your head, going over all the possible pros and cons of the different choices, barely able to understand the thoughts flying through your mind. Astarioin’s voice snapped your gaze back towards him.

“If it were my choice,” he started, strutting towards you, “It’d be an easy one. The idea is to destroy the would-be Illithid empire, rebuild Baldur’s Gate, and keep us all alive to see the end, is it not?”

You scowled at him, the rest of the camp all listening to his protests with adept ears. “Besides,” he continued, “What’s a short century of fun sex compared to Wyll’s eternal enslavement in the Blood Wars?” He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You’d condemn the Hero of the Sword Coast to such a fate?”

You could all but taste the sarcasm in his voice as he fell into another fit of laughter, but he wasn’t wrong. You looked back towards Mizora with a mix of embarrassment and rage, still unable to trust her, but understanding that, at the end of the day, this truly would be the best of the worst–the most viable option, for Wyll’s sake.

You cleared your throat, trying your best to ignore the glaring eyes of your companions around you. There was a slowness as the nod approached you, a deep chill running through you as you dared to finally meet Mizora’s eyes with a new understanding within your own.

“If I sign,” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady, “Wyll’s pact is done? And his father saved?”

Mizora held her hand to her chest, mocking the gesturr of clutching a necklace of pearls as she looked sarcastically shocked. “My dearest pup,” she gasped, fanning herself as she smiled, “My word–these contracts–are the only form of respectable currency left,” she chortled, summoning a deep red quill to match the ink of the contact now glowing with deep desire as it sat amidst your palms. She gestured to the Sisters of Justice, your gaze following her hand as their feet met the ground, their wings stretching wide as they urged you to sign.

You looked up at her, heat rising in your cheeks as her gaze burned into you. Her smirk grew with each uneven breath you took, eyes flicking back towards Wyll, who’s eyes were full of tears as he watched you sign away the next hundred years to keep him–and the city at large–safe.

The quill seemed light in your hand, as if it held no physical form, willing itself to move the way your fingers told it without any thought. The longer you hesitated the faster the quill seemed to move, sensing the fear flowing through you as it scrawled itself across the page, the blood-red ink seeping deep into the parchment with a beautiful flourish of your name.

Your breath caught in your throat, the heavy sound of flames licking flesh overcoming your senses as Mizora’s smile widened, the newly sealed contract vanishing to mist with a quick snap of her fingers.

The Sisters of Justice nodded their heads in reverence before raising them to meet your eyes, the devious grin of a devil’s game well-played and won clear on their lips.

A new sort of heaviness hung over the camp. Your companions watched Mizora quietly, waiting with a breath held in their chests as she approached you.

You jumped as she clapped her hands together, a quick jolt of fear running through your spine as you felt something within you change; something within your very being had been altered, a connection created where there wasn’t one before. Mizora’s smirk spoke clearly.

“Now!” she yelped, her own excitement building as she lifted a gentle hand and laid it on your arm, trailing her perfectly kept claws over your skin, your shoulder, collarbone, neck…

“My sweet, sweet pup,” she cooed, giggling at the trance you tried to resist, “I’m not known for my patience.”

There was a sudden piercing cold in your core as stiff fabric was torn from unseen flesh, the dank air of the tragic night hitting the bare skin of your exposed body, shivers rising on your skin as you looked down at yourself with shock written clear in your expression.

You raised your shaking hands to wrap your arms around your exposed and hardening nipples, holding your breath without intent as you struggled to maintain some sense of composure.

You faltered over your protests, feet glued to the ground as the words struggled to fall from your mouth. “This isn’t… you never said–”

There was the hard feeling of heated metal clapped on either wrist. As you looked down and struggled against your newfound restraints, the Sisters of Justice only hardened their grip, already leaving a deep red mark of a bruise as they gripped tighter with each tug.

Mizora stood before you, sauntering back and forth as she watched you struggle against the strength of two ancient devils, delighting in the sureness she saw on your face that this was a fight you could win. They couldn’t be more wrong, she thought, the maniacal laugh of a lust-driven force emanating deep from within her as she continued to feast upon you with her eyes.

You could hardly concentrate on the mutter of the voices of your companions shooting through your mind as you continued your fighting, huffing hot breaths of anger as the embarrassment and shame started to work its way between it, another cold breeze swirling around your naked body. Mizora’s gaping, toothy smile was all but revealing a small bit of hungry, primal, animalistic drool.

The chattering turned to screams and pleas as your companions began their full protest, yet none were able to reach you to help. You couldn’t bear to meet their eyes as you continued your reeling, their shrill cries all but building up that pit of shame and rage in your core. The harder the Sisters gripped, the more willed you were to fight. Yet, no matter how hard you pulled, your feet remained planted firmly to their place in the ground.

The tips of your fingers started to go numb as the red bruising of the Sisters’ grip on your wrists tightened yet again, a grunt of pain falling from your lips as you pleaded, “This isn’t what I agreed to!”

Mizora’s laugh echoed throughout your flooding skull, mingling with Wyll’s desperate chokes of a once damned soul.

“You bitch!” he raved, fighting against Karlach’s gentle hold as she shook her head, doing her best to hold him back from what would be an assured death if he threw himself upon such an exalted she-demon. She pulled her eyes away from the scene, averting her gaze to the ground as she tried to calm Wyll amongst his screams, unsure of what she could possibly say or do to fix it.

With another wave of her wrist, Mizora had a rough gag woven around your neck, between your lips. You choked at the texture against your teeth, gagging as your tongue was pushed against it.

“Oh, my pup,” she muttered, the same hand she summoned the gag with now running gently through your hair, across your chin, down your chest, finding herself one of your nipples to play with.

You mumbled hard against the restraint, unable to keep yourself from biting against the hard rope and grating your teeth against it. Your throat was going raw as you screamed against it, unable to spit out anymore words.

“You are so beautiful when you’ve been shut up,” Mizora smiled, continuing to let her hand trail down your body; across your waist, against your supple skin. She left shivers in her fingers wake while you continued to thrash against your restraints.

Jaheira approached the devil with purpose, her eyes slitted and brows furrowed as her voice boomed. “This has gone far enough!” she announced, unsheathing her sword from where it sat against her back.

Mizora paid her no mind, merely rolling her eyes and gesturing in her direction. Your eyes followed in perfect time, watching as Jaheira’s weapon was flung from her hand and she was brought to her knees with the same force that kept your feet planted on the ground.

Shadowheart ran to her side, falling to the ground beside her as she tried with everything she had to lift her up, but failed. Jaheira’s screaming became incoherent swears as her eyes were trained on Mizora’s fingers, ever so slowly making their way to find themselves between your legs.

Your eyes shot wide as you felt the sensation of her hot skin against your own, bucking your hips in time with the gentle touch of her fingers in protest. You whined and yelped against your gag with no relief, your words lost amongst it.

As your companions watched you devolve upon Mizora’s hand, the final realization of just how much you’d given up to her had set in.

Wyll’s screams and protests became throaty sobs as curses were thrown at a devil who wouldn’t hear them, Shadowheart finally devolving to leaving Jaheira where she sat amongst the mud and dirt to hide her own tears of fear alone. Eyes averted from your pleading gaze, seeing them all finally turn away as it was all too much to bear, bringing shame to your own eyes as a hot tear found its way down your cheek.

Astarion had stayed where he was as the scene began to unfold, but this had become something even he wouldn’t witness. Somehow, though, he couldn't look away. The searing heat of rage in his chest drove him deep into his own memories, unable to find the motivation to fight for you as he succumbed to the feeling.

The taught muscles of your legs shook as three fingers were plunged deep within your folds, a screech of pain eminating from behind your gag as she stretched your walls apart between them.

“Ahh,” she hummed, leaning her face down in front of your own, taking a moment to revel in your relentless fighting and rage before letting her tongue flick across your cheek, licking away the tear trail before another started to fall. “Who thought a whore like you could have a cunt so tight, hmm?” she purred.

As you devolved further and further into knowing you wouldn’t escape until Mizora saw fit, the fear welled up further within you. Your breath raced, matching the unrhythmic beat of your heart, unable to staunch your flow of tears as you understood all you’d lost. You heard Shadowheart’s quiet cries from her tent ruminating behind Wyll and Jaheira’s pointless screams, Astarion lost in watching.

Mizora’s wicked smile only grew as she watched you making peace with your fate through your raging, tear-filled eyes, her own hunger growing stronger within her.

“The sniveling of your companions is rather distracting, dearest,” she muttered, leaning her lips right up against your own as she pulled her fingers from your aching cunt, “Let me move us to someplace a bit more private.”

The open expanse of a camp under the night sky became a void of dark, inky black. You felt the hard earth turn to cold stone beneath you, a pedastool keeping you risen above the void. Mizora’s eyes glowed with the same fireceness as the solid red ring of hellfire around the stone slab you stood upon, keeeping you and your three captors perfect sat in the middle of it.

She sighed, pushing a strand of hair that had fallen in front of your face back behind your ear with a seemingly gentle touch as she let her other hand find its way back to your cunt.

“Let’s put that quick tongue of yours to use, hmm?” she sang, pinching your clit between her sharp claws before taking a step back.

You yelped out against the gag yet again, helpeless against the pain.

“Sisters,” she purred, laying her orders out with the slick sweetness of her words as she snapped her fingers, her intricatae gown disappearing into mist the same way your contract had. “Let’s make sure this first round is a perfect example of what our dear pup has in store for the next century, shall we?”

There was a shift in the pressures against you as your body was laid upon the hard stone with force, your ears ringing from the impact. You choked another pained sobbed from behind the gag, squeezing your eyes shut as more hot tears made their way to the cold stone beneath you. There was a hard tightness as your wrists were bound together yet again by ties you couldn’t see, your legs held apart by another restraint.

There was the warm sensation of Mizora’s hand lifting your shuddering chin, the soft feel of her thighs pressing themselves against either side of your head. Your gag suddenly vanished, causing you to suck in a hot breath, tasting the scent of Mizora’s cunt on your swollen tongue.

“P-please!” you choked out between a gasp for breath, “It hurts–”

She breathed out a hot laugh, stroking your hair as you tried to pull your head away from her wet sex and failed.

“Tsk, tsk,” she tutted, her gentle stroking of your hair becoming a tight grip, yanking your head as far back as it would go. “Enough with the protests, dear. Lets get to my pleasure now, shall we?”

As she took her handful of your hair and pushed your mouth hard against her throbbing cunt, you felt the sudden pressure of a searing hot tip rubbing quickly between your folds from behind. You struggled against Mizora’s hand as you felt the ribbed cock throb against your abused folds, sobbing into her cunt as you thrashed, barely able to move.

As the one Sister wasted no time in pushing her length deep into your cunt, the other climbed atop you, straddling your back as she quickly shoved her own cock into your ass with enough force to give you a small tear.

You gritted your teeth and continued your useless thrashing against the sudden pain, your eyes wide with shock as Mizora shoved your face harder into her cunt, cooing about how perfect you looked while being broken. You felt a small, hot trail of blood work its way from between your legs amidst the relentless pounding you were struggling against. You screamed against Mizora’s dripping sex, begging for air with your pleading, tear-filled gaze as you saw her smile down at you.

You were completley at their mercy; your will stripped from you in the most pirmal form. The growls and grunts of the Sisters of Justice seemed to mingle with your thoughts of desperate prayers to Gods that wouldn’t listen, the broken feeling of your very sould falling apart around two ribbed cocks and bewtween Mizora’s searing cunt. You felt yourself succumbing to the chains in which you’d been placed, merely wishing for a quick end and hating yourself for not wanting to keep fighting.

The Sister’s moans mingled throughout the empty void, the sound of their cocks smacking against your bruising skin creating an unholy rhythm that seemed to harmonize with your sobs. The more you resisted, the further you felt yourself approaching your own orgasm. The constant pain of the ribbed cambion dicks pushing against each other through your walls had you squeezing your legs together, your sharp restraints the only thing keeping them apart.

“Eat, pup,” Mizora demanded, snapping her fngers again with a dark glint in her eyes. Your mouth seemed to open on its own volition, her slick quickly seeping into your mouth, against your tongue, down your throat.

She rocked her hips against your mouth, pressing your head against her harder with the grip she had on your hair. Your body trembled and shook as the Sisters continued to slam into you, their own moans and grunts of pleasure mixing between their soft giggles and laughs.

When you gagged at the slick building in your mouth, Mizora tugged your head back and delivered a swift smack to your cheek. You shrieked with your raw throat before she pushed you down yet again. The Sisters seemed to find great pleasure in your plight, their paces quickening with the more frustrated Mizora seemed to get.

“I said, eat.”

Your tears mixed with the wet slick of her cunt, your tongue working circles between her folds until it found its way to her buzzing clit. You swallowed, closing your eyes as another broken sob fell from your lips. You were pulled back and forth against the hard cold slab which each thrust from the Sister’s behind you, your skin starting to chaffe and blister the more they chased their own highs. They pulled your skin with a harsh vigor, sinking their claws deep into your soft skin to get a better grip as they pulled and pushed you across the floor.

“Perfect, my dear,” Mizora purred, sighing as she leaned herself back and letting out a deep moan of pleasure, “Just like that,” she said, giving your hair another tug.

Your body was starting to burn and go numb all at once, the nerve you’d been giving all but being sucked from your body as you ran out of energy from fighting for so long. You gasped against Mizora with each painful thrust, diziness starting to set in with the lack of breath. You heaved, your weak fingers gripping at smooth stone, nails pulling against it as you lazily racked your fingers acrossed it in a final attempt to fight against the building pleasure in your core.

You squeezed your eyes shut with the last bit of strength you had left, a solitary tear hitting the cold stone as it dripped between Mizora’s thighs. There was a numbing heat that threw you higher than you’d ever been, the weightlessness of it all leaving you breathless and twitching. You felt yourself float against the grating roughness of the stone, a pool of your own pleasure spilling between your legs as the Sister’s started pounding you harder.

“Oh, how sweet,” Mizora praised you, “cumming with your face between my legs.” She laughed softly, guiding your head back and forth as your tongue pushed harder against her clit. With each tug, she groaned, her toes curling with each little whine and plea that left your lips sending a jolt into her. Your eyes rolled deep to the back of your skull, your mind pounding with blank bliss as they all continued to fuck you through the high.

“Keep cumming, my sweet,” she hummed, rubbing her cunt against your chin, “so perfectly pathetic as your body shakes for me.”

She writhed against your crying lips as one Sister of Justice began to falter with her pace, her rhythm becoming sloppy as the tip of her engorged, ribbed cock throbbed hard against your cervix. You barely felt her load coating your insides, consdiering they wouldn’t let up relentlessly fucking you through your forced orgasm.

Your body twitched with each quick thrust of the second Sister beneath you as the first stilled her movements, shoving her length deep inside as to not waste a drop of her spend on the cold, hard stone.

Mizora gripped your hair tighter as she watched the second Sister approaching her own climax, gently praising her as she filled your second hole. Her cum mixed well with the trickle of blood running down your thighs. You hated yourself for loving the feeling, for having gotten off on the ruthless abuse of your holes.

She wasn’t far off from her finish herself, but Mizora couldn’t help but relishing in the way you looked all fucked-out and useless beneath her.

You felt the hot spend of thick cum dripping down your legs, blending with your own pool of pleasure you were laying in.

“Bathed in filth,” Mizora quipped, hissing as she sucked in a hot breath. “my disgusting little pet,”

Her coos of detrimental praise began mix with her own sounds of pleasure. She pulled you tighter against her cunt, your tongue finding its way deep inside of her sopping entrance. She held your head in place, riding your face and grinding her cunt against you while your tongue swirled, her clit pushing up against your nose as you gasped for air, all but unable to breathe.

“That’s it, my pup,” she huffed, throwing her head back behind her as she came undone within your mouth. Her wanton moans of pleasure filled your head as you lost yourself, the gentle black haze of losing consciousness finally claiming you as you blacked out.

—

You don’t remember coming back to yourself, only the feeling of the hard earth against your cheek as your vision began to swim again. You could just barley make out the first rays of the rising sun peeking over the horizon.

There was a soft mumble of paniced voices rushing closer, vague shapes appearing in your vision as everything slowly started to come to you.

As you came back to yourself, so did all the hurt. You were painfully aware of the sharp restraints still gripping you together, sharp barbs digging deep into shredded, bloody skin. Your entire body throbbed with bruises, skin marked red and yellow and blue and purple from the constant beating and pounding. You gagged as you swallowed, choking on your spit as you raged to catch a breath.

You fought against the first touch of a soft hand on your back, shrieking and thrashing as Shadowheart spoke with firmness to try to calm you. She gently worked at the bonds holding you restrained, hands shaking as she mumbled about rusted wire in an open wound.

You choked on your breaths, sucking in the air as your chest heaved. As she worked your wrists and feet free, the rest of your companions slowly made their way over to where you’d been dropped, gasping and shaking their heads as they worked in tandem to silently tend to your broken body.

You could feel the hot stains of tear trails still fresh on your cheeks, the dirt of the stone slab and the hard ground sticking to where they’d fallen from your face. You could focus on nothing but the numbing sensation ruminating through your brain, Shadowhearts gentle healing words barely enough to soothe the searing pain.

A hundred years, you thought, another tear making its way to the cold ground beneath you.

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