#skie silvershield

[jennycalendar]

world’s most adventure bard and her most favorite people, circa bg1 🩷

[ratscrap]

second batch of portrait pack portraits! tiax, xzar, faldorn and skie!

[imsopopfly]

[popsartattic]

Redraw of some very old fanart I did. Left is 2008, right is 2025.

[incorrect-bhaalspawn-quotes]

Skie, pouting: Eldoth isn’t talking to me.

Xan: Enjoy it while it lasts.

[nightingaletrash]

Jaheira told Tallis about how the bg1 and 2 parties got so used to Fianna waking them up with her nightmares that they were like 'fuck yeah, keep resisting Bhaal babe!'

And now I'm imagining that whoever was on watch was also on Fianna duty, and if she woke up from a nightmare, it was their job to take care of her.

--

Imoen distracts her with stories and reminding her of their childhood misadventures around Candlekeep. And when her own nightmares come knocking, Fianna is ready to do the same.

Khalid and Jaheira 10/10 go into parenting mode. Khalid is there with a solid shoulder and a soothing presence, while Jaheira is happy to keep watch while Fianna sleeps.

Minsc and Boo are there with hugs, rousing reassurances, and lots of hamster cuddles. Boo is very wise after all. He knows that cuddles are the best solution.

Dynaheir calmly and confidently reassures her that the worse her dreams, the more she is resisting Bhaal's lure. She talks about some of the things she's witnessed on her travels all the same, to chase away the lingering malaise.

Rasaad invites her to meditate with him so that she can clear her mind. When that fails, he recites prayers and psalms that he finds soothing, and offers whatever comfort he can.

Skie insists on teaching her something she didn't know because if she wears herself out, she'll sleep better. So she teaches Fianna to dance and talks about etiquette and social rules among patriars and Grand Dukes - it is very effective at getting them both to fall asleep. Jaheira ends up scolding Skie for falling asleep on watch when that happens.

Yoshimo would tell tall tales of his endeavours, many of which are too tall to be believed, but drove away the shadows all the same. Though those tales go sorely missed once Fianna escaped Spellhold, a still warm, spasming heart wrapped tightly and stowed in the bottom of her bag.

Viconia does not do comforting, but prayer is an effective balm for a troubled night. Incense helps as well, and it's definitely a coincidence that she happens to always have some handy when she's on watch.

Cernd talks about nature. Fianna grew up dreaming of the world beyond Candlekeeps walls, and listening to Cernd talk about it in such an idyllic fashion brings back those same feelings of nostalgia for something she's never known.

Sarevok rolls his eyes at first. How pathetic his sister must be to be so deeply troubled by dreams. He mocks her at first for her supposed weakness, until he begins to change his own views. He sits with her in silence now, a silent guardian against their father's spectre. She does the same for him when the nightmares begin to plague him.

[ask-baldurs-gate]

Skie, any makeup tips for the road?

The most important thing I've learned is to always keep a small handkerchief around, and maybe some soap, if you can get it. You have to wash your face a lot more on the road, makeup won't work as well on a face covered in road dust. Oh! And it's better to use wet make up than dry. You're going to be sweating A LOT on the road, and that makes unsightly streaks in powder-based makeup.

...Also, keep your nails short. It's less fashionable, but if you don't, they WILL break.

[anderstrevelyan]

wip wednesday

I haven't done one of these in a minute because I've been focusing on polishing and reworking rather than drafting new words (hopefully by next week I'll have some!), but you know what, let's do one anyway!

Here's the opening of my as-yet-untitled multichapter project, aka my early days of durgetash project (set about a year after they first meet):

*Valas is the son of Gorion's Ward rather than a strictly canon Dark Urge: mentioning to avoid confusion since it's relevant here!

It’s dusk when they first discuss it, a desire so deep Valas has never said it aloud. Were anyone to look up at the quiet manor on a corner in Bloomridge, perhaps on their way home from selling trinkets in the Wide, or while they wander to a tavern bleeding laughter and light onto the street, they’d see them there, the pair of them. A half-drow dressed in deepest black and a human with gold on each finger, the plates laid before them picked clean, the wineglasses in their hands stained with two layers of red, lounging at either end of the settee long past when one of them should have risen to draw the curtains shut. He should do it now, Valas thinks as he turns his glass, watching the candlelight refract. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t, just as he doesn’t know how they arrived at the subject, his confessing the name of the person he most longs to kill.

He lets his voice trail off, and swallows against the dry in his throat. Tries to find his footing. He’s not one for quick words, the thoughtless flow that pours from so many like blood—he often prefers to listen. For a heartbeat, for an opportunity, for the guiding voice of his god. And Enver Gortash doesn’t seem one for silence. Not like this, chin in his hand, long gaps between the sound of his own voice—not unless he’s waiting, too, searching for a flaw. Perhaps he understands this weakness for what it is. Skie. Skie Silvershield. Skie Silvershield the second—not the same young woman said to have died at the hands of the Bhaalspawn who sired him, but Valas yearns for her blood all the same, Torlin’s daughter named for the ancestor plucked too soon. Sometimes, in Valas’s worst moments, his mind whispers that it would be right. To prove himself better than the one who raised him before he found his true Father’s embrace, who always claimed he hadn’t been the one to kill his Skie. That it would be good, further insult and honour to the man once Chosen by his god—Torlin proved unworthy the moment Valas set in motion his death, but he was a Bhaalist all the same, and there’s nothing more Bhaalist than the slaughter of one’s kin. But it’s weakness, coveting one death over all others, no matter how he twists his thoughts. He’s seen such a thing in his acolytes’ eyes, when they come to him soft and raw, his Father’s voice in their heads a mewling thing—they don’t understand, in the throes of those first few tastes of blood, what their work really means. They dwell in emotion, in grudges, in hate, longing to kill an old rival, a scorned lover, someone who did them wrong. The faith shows them: there’s no value in the personal, in passion, if it’s not needed to reach the right holy end. It’s weakness, then, too, how much he’s come to enjoy this new ally’s company. Valas turns his gaze to the window, to the motion on the street below—feet catching on cobble, glances cast over shoulders, plumes of breath climbing in the cool evening air—just as Gortash looks away, too. He must be admiring the curves of his own furniture; the works of art in their golden frames, some so new they sit still propped against the wall; the piles of papers and gadgets, their places not yet found, sketches and plans and small, delicate tools. The home he’s building, here in the Lower City’s most fashionable neighbourhood, so different from where he’d laid his head just months before. But when Valas turns back his way, he’s looking out into the dark. Toward the wall, just steps to the north, that separates them from the Upper City. Valas can almost hear him thinking. “There would be a beautiful kind of symmetry to it,” Gortash says finally, and Valas busies himself with a sip of wine. “One Bhaalspawn filled with remorse, peaceful against his nature, and then all these years later another to do it right. It’s not far from our other discussions of late.”

[blackjackkent]

Having finished the arduous task of explaining her bloodline to the whole camp, Rakha drifts back towards Jaheira's side. Cautious, at first - as if expecting the Harper to push her away, knowing what she now knows - but Jaheira looks at her steadily and simply waits.

She knows, presumably, that when Rakha has questions, it is not long before they are heard.

"I need to know more about the Bhaalspawn. About myself." Rakha's words are just as sharp and clipped off as usual - but lower, softer. There's a struggle against shame in them now, where before was simply bewilderment.

Jaheira smiles ruefully. "I am no expert on the matter, despite all my experience," she says. "But... if anything I know can help you to resist your father... only ask it."

In truth, Rakha has so many questions that she isn't really sure where to begin. Her first question, though, is remarkably revealing - it's not really a strategic question or even a factual one. It's borne of fear.

"You've... never known a Bhaalspawn to go mad, have you?" she asks haltingly.

Jaheira's expression softens. "Not... mad, no," she says. "Take Sarevok, for example. For as much carnage as he caused, there was always a cold calculation to it. He craved power, and his bloodline was just another path to achieve it."

(She remembers - the wildness in Caden's eyes as the Slayer form faded out of him, rage giving way to terror. But she remembers, too, how even stripped of his soul he fought that monster down and did not let it take him, in the end.)

Her hand shifts, as if to reach out to touch Rakha's arm; then she seems to think better of it and withdraws. "I saw that same bloodline turned to better ends than Bhaal ever intended for it. It was Bhaalspawn who threatened the Coast, and Bhaalspawn who saved it. It is possible to go on to live a life outside your father's shadow."

"Was your camp bothered time and time again by a grotesque Butler?" Rakha asks. Her lip curls as she remembers Sceleritas's mocking voice whispering in her ear.

To her surprise, Jaheira smiles very faintly, only for a moment.

(She remembers - Cespenar, the strange little imp that haunted the pocket plane where she and Caden and the others spent their nights during the War of the Five. Yes - he called himself a butler, she remembers. Rakha has told them of Fel, though, and whatever he might be, it is something much darker.)

"Bhaal had his minions, certainly," she answers. "But none that watched over their wards so diligently." The smile fades as quickly as it came. "I wonder if past experience has taught the great god to fear - that another of his children might turn against him."

Rakha nods, thinking this over. She is finding it eases her mind, just a little, to hear that there were others like her - that there was one whom Jaheira considered a friend - even if her situation is very different.

"Did your friend ever tell you of the dreams Bhaal sent them?" she asks, shifting uncertainly from one foot to the other.

Jaheira scowls, suddenly bitter. "Yes," she says tightly. "Your rancid father will try to twist your thoughts, as he did with all his children. The harder you resist, the darker your dreams become. Our camp was often roused by screams in the night, back then."

(She remembers - all the nights Caden thought his screams were muffled. All the dreams he described to them in the morning, blinking with bloodshot eyes. And of course, the night Irenicus turned one of those dreams to his purpose and sent Caden's dagger into Skie Silvershield's chest...)

There's a certain savageness in the smile that follows, and it does not reach her eyes. "We learned to take them as a marker of pride. Even gods can be resisted."

As Rakha absorbs this, her shoulders square slightly. She takes these words and files them away next to the others that give her the most strength. Even gods can be resisted.

"Did your friend live happily, once Bhaal was dealt with?" she asks quietly.

Jaheira chuckles. "Hah. Bhaal was just the beginning. Be warned - a godspawn draws trouble like iron to lodestone. There will be crusaders who wish to rid the world of your taint, or jealous minds who believe themselves more deserving of the power in your blood."

(She remembers - Sarevok and Argent and Irenicus and Amelyssan, face after face rising out of the dark to attempt to use Caden, or destroy him. In truth, his only real peace came when the solar sent from the gods finally stripped him of his heritage along with all the power Amelyssan had gathered. But there were happy times before that, too. She remembers the way he held Aerie, the way he joked with Imoen and Minsc and spoke of philosophy with Rasaad. She remembers her own conversations with him, long discussions of loss and hope in the shadows of Amn.)

"But happiness is not beyond a Bhaalspawn," she says firmly. "It simply comes at higher cost - constant vigilance."

Rakha's eyes flick almost imperceptibly past Jaheira's shoulder in the direction of another tent, where Wyll is playfully wrestling a ball from Scratch's mouth. "Did the Bhaalspawn have children?" she asks abruptly, before she's realized the words are coming out of her mouth. "Did they inherit his taint?"

Jaheira tilts her head thoughtfully. "A Bhaalspawn can sire children, certainly. Whether they *should*..." She hesitates.

(She remembers - Caden's son Quayle, a little half-Avariel with stubby wings, grinning up at her as a young boy, full of questions and imagination. And the man he has become since; she's seen him a handful of times and heard much more from Caden's letters - a lithe figure with steady hands, a woodworker and teller of tales in Faenya-Dail. A strange amalgam of his mother's gentleness and his father's mischief, with no sign of any of the darkness that plagued Caden's history. But he was born after the taint was gone. Who can say what he might have become, had Caden never been freed?

And she remembers her own daughter, too - Rion, who has grown all too much in Jaheira's own image, both for better and worse. Rion, who inherited her mother's reserve and fire by nature, perhaps - but who has also learned everything Jaheira knew how to teach, of protection and strength and resilience.)

"There are things in our nature we might unwittingly pass on, yes," she finally says slowly, visibly choosing her words with care. "But I do not believe them stronger than the things we *choose* to pass on."

She turns her head slightly, following Rakha's gaze in the direction of Wyll's tent. Then she smiles slowly. "If you are asking whether love and joy are beyond you, just because of the taint in your blood... No. They most certainly are not."

Rakha draws a slow breath and closes her eyes; when she exhales, it emerges just a little shaky. Jaheira's counsel is something she desperately needs at present, and it is reassuring, comforting... and yet at the same time she finds it tears something loose in her chest that makes her feel altogether too vulnerable for her liking.

"Bhaal frightens me," she admits in a low voice, almost too low to hear.

"Then you are wise," Jaheira says bluntly. "I will not mince words. If what you told me is true, you are already further under Bhaal's power than my old friend ever was."

She hesitates - and this time she does reach out, just barely resting the tips of her fingers against Rakha's forearm. Her eyes stay fixed on Rakha's, steady, calm. Perhaps it is the experienced Harper leader who knows how to call up answering calm in her subordinates - or perhaps merely the woman seeing the echo of her friend's pain in this new face.

"But so long as you fear that power," she says firmly, "there is hope. Fear means you are not fully mad - not yet."

[noblcgames]

Once, you thought yourself free of your father's taint. But as you journeyed to Dragonspear Castle, you realized this was not so. You are a child of Bhaal, Lord of Murder. A piece of him resides in you. Has it grown beyond your control? Was yours the hand that plunged the dagger into Skie Silvershield's breast? You do not know. And that fact haunts you.

[catthattalks]

Flaming Fist Mercenary: Follow me and stay close. We'll be traveling through tunnels beneath the city---Duke Belt wants you kept away from the public. Rightly so, I think. Flaming Fist Mercenary: Go down the stairs and head west. The cavern comes up outside the city gates. Eri: I didn't do it, you know. I wasn't the one who killed Skie Silvershield. Flaming Fist Mercenary: I believe you. Flaming Fist Mercenary: My cousin was in Bridgefort. The crusader's spellstone had poisoned her---shewas on the edge of death. You saved her Flaming Fist Mercenary: You saved the city from Sarevok. You saved the Sword Coast from the Nine Hells. I don't care what anyone says about you. You're a hero, and that's all there is to it. Farewell, Eri

This was a very sweet scene to get, considering charname has just been exiled, simply because of their blood. Random character tells Eri that they saved someone and that they are a hero to him, no matter what anyone else says. She was hero to someone! I think this interaction will definitely keep Eri from falling completely to 'evil' side, even when they have grown more cynical and angried in BG2

[theurgic-necromancer]

Two of Diamonds - What does your muse do if they disapprove of another’s relationship?

Card Suits

((Stare at the partner he disapproves of with open disapproval lmao

To go with a specific instance: he did not approve of his friend Skie Silvershield dating Eldoth. Largely because even he could see how much of a dick Eldoth was to her, and he was of the firm opinion that Skie deserved better. But, Skie would not hear a single word of warning, so Sayran backed off of telling her "hey your boyfriend fucking sucks." He was baseline polite to Eldoth, and basically only put up with him for Skie's sake. The only thing he ever directly said to her about it was that he thought she could do better than Eldoth, but, again, she didn't really want to hear it so he never pressed.

He was immensely relieved to hear she eventually cut ties with Eldoth, though he was wise enough not to be like "I told you so" lmfao))

[bubblebuttgames]

NPC Mods in Baldur's Gate 2

🔹️Khalid ~ Review •

🔹️Skie Silvershield ~ Review •

🔹️Yeslick ~ Review •

🔹️Hephernaan ~ Review

🔸️Xulaye ~ Review

🔸️Dvaradime ~ Review

🔸️Yasraena ~ Review

[sillywolffoxwrites]

29th of Nightal, 1368 - Day 161, Hour 20

TRIAL SUMMARY ACCUSER: Duke Silvershield DEFENDANT: Aurelia, "Hero of Baldur's Gate" CRIME: The murder of Skie Silvershield RULING: On account of possessing the murder weapon, being at the scene of the crime, and furthermore being a bhaalspawn, we find the defendant GUILTY

SENTENCE: Imprisonment until permanent decision.

[incorrect-bhaalspawn-quotes]

Garrick: Don't you carry a hair dryer in your purse?

Dynaheir: Hast thou ever met a human woman?

(later)

Garrick: Hey, do you carry a hair dryer in your purse?

Skie: Of course, I'm not an animal.

[nightingaletrash]

I might be in the minority here, but I'd love to get a lil bg3 addon/dlc that gives some closure to the murder of Skie Silvershield. I know that her death was part of a 2016 dlc for bg1, but my Bhaalspawn was so goddamn traumatised by Skie's death that I would love the chance to see some kind of resolution that lays Skie to rest.

My primary idea would be the chance to give players a fancy masquerade ball mission which the party has been hired to infiltrate by someone who wants to acquire the soul-taker dagger that Irenicus used to murder Skie and prevent her resurrection. The person who has the dagger has it locked up in the mansion/castle vault, and its up to the Tadfools to get to the vault and recover the dagger. And along the way, learn why these two parties are so interested in the dagger and decide what to do with it (and Skie's soul) once it's recovered.

I dunno, I just think it'd be a nice way to tie up that plot thread and give the fanbase a fun party quest. And yes, everyone should have their own unique outfit. For fun.