#tav!abdirak

[sweetmage]

✨️

[They actually have a healthy and healing relationship in this playthrough, no vampires were harmed in the making of this ship💞]

[crocodiller]

loviatar's love is a really good status effect ok

[for-tymora]

I was voluntold for torture.

[cornflowersisblue]

[dmbakura]

post penance cuddles

[ancuninfiles]

Believe what you must, but Astarion is for sure a little kinky, lest we forget how downbad he was for Tav during the Abdirak/Loviatar incedent.

[roguerambles]

Halsin: "Not only do you talk to a bear, you free it to? A true friend of nature! Or perhaps a lunatic."

Cerenna: *never wanted to jump a man's bones as intensely as she does right now* "Crush me with those biceps, smother me with those pecs, throw me down and ruin my life, please."

Halsin: "....?”

Vel: "...I think she meant to say, 'hello'."

Astarion: "Probably meant a little more than that, darling."

Karlach: *laughing her ass off*

[francis-writes]

How does evening look with them? (SFW)

Including: Nere, Raphael, Cazador, Gortash, Abdirak

Nere

Bad news: as you drink wine, Nere keeps talking about his duties and complaing about his servants and it requires a lot of effort to convince him to focus on lighter topics and to separate work from private life.

Raphael

He is a busy man, you see, and usually he spends a lot of time making deals and plotting schemes. But even fight for power doesn't make him forget about you and he tries to find a few hours for you alone everyday. Usually you relax in the House of Hope, sipping wine and talking about recent events. Sometimes Raphael reads for you or recites some poem.

Gortash

Evening with Gortash can go two ways. Either you relax at home or you engage in some illegal activities, shenanigans and wreaking havoc - for your own entertainment or because of your gods' orders. If you stay at home, you probably just lay on the bed, h*lding h*nds and resting after tiring day of pleasing your deities.

Cazador

You often visit lavish banquets and parties organized by elites of Baldur's Gate so Cazador can establish his social position but that doesn’t mean you don't have fun. He dances with you and whenever he leaves to discuss some political matter, you can easily find other company.

Abdirak

If don't worship your goddess in spare time (yeah, for Abdirak every time is good for some pain), then you just take care of each other’s wounds, cuddle and chat. If you have a hobby then he engages in it or at least observes you. Despite his love for torture, Abdirak is the sweetest caring boyfriend.

[venomgaia]

lobo the drow druid and his quest to befriend every evil/morally ambiguous npc as part of a tactical alliance

[thecampjuicebox]

Glorious Suffering

Pairing: Abdirak x Tav(f) x Astarion

Rating: 18+ NSFW, Minors DNI

POV: 2nd person

Warnings: SMUT, sadomasochism, use of objects for hitting, blood, bruising, biting, voyeurism/exhibitionism, orgasm denial, oral, fingering, p in v penetration, minor game spoilers

Trying out a new writing format to put better emphasis on dialogue. Let me know what you guys think!

The stench of blood and unwashed bodies lingers in the air like a thick blanket. It stings in your nostrils - singes the hairs with gut churning ferocity. Putrid. It makes your eyes water. Your stomach turns and bubbles as your breakfast threatens to make a second appearance. The once grand Selunite Outpost has since crumbled to near ruins, the occupation of goblins tainting its beauty and grace in a matter of days. Filthy pests, they are. You turn your head up, eyes watering from the scent as you climb the stone stairs toward a hallway of small rooms. Your group follows close behind reluctantly.

"This place is disgusting." Astarion whines, tip-toeing around small piles of bones and viscera.

Cautious eyes peek around corners. The first room is brightly lit with candles and lanterns, a young man strapped by the wrists and ankles to some sort of torture device. Two goblins swing maces and whips in his direction, shouting obscenities and asking for information. Information the man clearly doesn't seem to have.

"Pathetic. All of them." Shadowheart huffs, turning her nose up at the display with obvious disdain for what she's seen.

"They can't even properly swing a mace to cause actual damage. Lady Shar would be displeased."

Astarion grins at the sight. Excited fingers crawl against the stone brick wall to take hold of it as he leans into the doorway, his tongue flicking out to wet his bottom lip and trace the sharp points of his fangs.

"Let's stay and watch." The spawn's flirtatious nature can be so insufferable sometimes.

"Astarion, come. We have other business to attend to." Your voice is sharp and stern, seemingly the only way the elf will listen to you.

"You're such a bore." He groans, pulling away from the wall and hooking his index finger into the back of your leathers, giving them a playful tug toward him as he presses close to your behind and mumbles into your pointed ear.

"Doesn't that device look like such fun? We should give it a try once the little green ones have no more use for it."

Your cheeks burn crimson and a disengaging elbow flies out from behind you, connecting with Astarion's abdomen hard enough to force him to let go of your leathers.

"Not now, you tease." With a cough, he puts some distance between the two of you - an insidious grin lingers on his lips.

The second room draws closer and the quiet mumble of a man inside makes your ears perk up. His voice is strained, the occasional sounds of mace to skin ringing through the hall. He cries out, and every hair on your body stands on end. Astarion rounds the corner first, stumbling upon a man with medium build, knelt down in front of one of the rear walls of the room. He stands and turns to your group slowly, eyes falling on you first. His gaze is almost.. Comforting. Silver eyes pierce through you like the sharpest dagger. It nearly knocks the breath straight from your lungs. His chest and abdomen are alarmingly bloodied and bruised, little cuts and scratch marks speckling his skin. Astarion clears his throat once he notices your eyes locked on one another and the human offers a kind smile.

"Greetings, child. I've met few aside from Goblins here. Are you also here to assist with the prisoner?" He questions, motioning toward the room just next door.

You shake your head slowly, averting your gaze to the floor for a moment. Warmth swirls in your belly. He's incredibly handsome, the salt tones in his blonde hair showing his age. His voice is low and raspy and it sends shivers up and down your spine when he speaks - like sweet red wine to your ears. Delicious and intoxicating. His face contorts into a grimace as he crosses his arms over his chest and rests his weight on one foot.

"Hm. While I was thrilled to be invited here, I must confess I find the goblins and their methods.. Crude and primitive." He leans forward at his last word, eyes narrowing toward you. "Pain without purpose is a terrible thing. Wouldn't you agree?"

Your cheeks involuntarily flush that deep shade of crimson that clearly gives you away. He awakens something within you. You'd recognize his garb from miles away. A follower of Loviatar, the Maiden of Pain. The things this man has probably seen. The things he's done. It excites you in a way that's almost embarrassing. A familiar ache pings in your core and you can't help but cross your legs, squeezing your thighs together tightly to dull the desperation. The inherent need. The human before you certainly notices and takes a step closer, inhaling slowly before he speaks. He's toying with you now. He must be. Astarion can smell the growing eagerness in your blood, hear the way your pulse quickens, life force pumping into different parts of you now. He smirks and keeps quiet, but gods, is he painfully aware.

"Forgive me -" The man interjects, pointing directly at you now. You gulp. "but that look in your eyes. Something terrible has happened to you."

You cross your arms over your breasts, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. "Clever man. How did you know?"

"Because I see those same eyes when I look in the mirror.. Dear one." His hand reaches out to caress your soft cheek and goosebumps raise by the millions on your skin. "We've all suffered in these.. Dark times. It is little wonder you bear scars of pain and anguish. Please. Let me.. Alleviate this pain."

"What exactly would this entail?" Astarion's voice cuts through your thoughts and your eyes shift to him in disbelief.

"Well, the Maiden of Pain, Loviatar, teaches us that pain is a most powerful and sacred sensation. And, should our pain delight her, she will grant her most sacred of blessings." His hands clench into excited fists in front of him. "If you would permit it, I could show you first hand."

A knot forms in your stomach, twisting and tangling, his words sending jolts of arousal and excitement throughout your entire body like bolts of lightning. This experience would be new, however. The idea of such an act being performed in front of your newly acquired companions, and the man you'd started to have feelings for, makes your brain fuzzy. Gods, they'd for sure say no. Maybe even leave you to find a cure for the wriggling parasite behind your eyes by yourself.

"Sounds like a wonderful show. She accepts." Astarion beams, his eyes fixed on you, scanning up and down as your heartbeat quickens further. "As long as we can stay and watch."

"Surely Shadowheart has some reservations about watching, right?" You ask with an air of desperation that's almost laughable.

She grins and places her hands on her hips, quirking an eyebrow at you. "Lady Shar would frown upon me if I were to miss something as deliciously torturous as this. Go on."

"Oh, I have something exquisite in mind." He rubs his hands together, a devilish grin smeared across his lips. It makes your core ache even more. "Disrobe, face the wall, and we can begin. And by the way.. You may call me Abdirak."

Disrobe? Gods, this was not on your list of things to do today. Kill some goblins? Sure. Save a wildshaped druid from death? Easy. This? This may be the most difficult thing you've ever done. Astarion waves a hand toward you, motioning for you to obey the Servant of Loviatar. Your confidence wavers for a moment. Not only are you about to willingly endure what is essentially torture, now you must do it.. Naked. You gulp and set your backpack down at your feet. First goes your boots, next your leather harness, your head turning to look at Astarion who is enamored by the sight of you slowly undressing, his back pressed against the cold stone wall. Another gulp. How embarrassing.. Shadowheart snickers quietly at your obvious discomfort. Trembling fingers struggle with the laces of your tunic and in a bout of frustration, you quickly tug it over your head. The white linen falls to the floor at your feet, your perky breasts bouncing ever so slightly from the rushed movements. A quiet sigh emits from Abdirak and he quickly looks to his table of various weapons, hand hovering over the selection.

You finally tug your leathers down past your knees, kicking them to the side with reckless abandon just to get it over with. Your lack of underwear earns a barely audible groan from both Astarion and Abdirak alike. Naked and exposed, you shiver, hands resting at your sides.

"Well, go on, darling. Don't be shy."

Astarion's words give you the final push to step forward. You face the wall as instructed and chew at your bottom lip as the human lifts a mace into his hands, turning it over to inspect its condition. A quiet "Yes.. This will do nicely." stoking your fire as you wait. Abdirak approaches you from behind, reaching down to guide your hands toward the wall, foot kicking between your ankles to spread your legs apart. The cold metal of his mace traces along your spine and you shudder, teeth chattering at its frosty bite. You wait with baited breath. Brace for the imminent kiss of pain. Abdirak rears back and lands a blow to your back hard enough to knock an involuntary yelp from your throat. Astarion chews the tip of his thumb, his right hand lowering to the front of his leathers to palm at his growing erection. The half elf stood close beside him eyes him carefully, and then you, arms crossing over her chest now, completely unamused.

"The pain you suffer will cleanse you. Do not fight it."

A loud sob follows Abdirak's words as you process the pain, blood trickling from a new gash on your skin. You beg for mercy, plead for the pain to stop, your knees nearly buckling beneath you. But this is only the first blow, there is so much more to come. Somewhere deep down inside, you're enjoying this. Your companions watching as you stand there, completely vulnerable, bloodied and bruised. Open to the elements and whomever wanted a taste. The human licks his lips.

"Your voice sounds so sweet, dear one. Keep going."

"Don't wear her out entirely, priest. We may have use for her yet." Shadowheart grins, eyes narrowing on your trembling frame.

Her mocking tone and underlying breathiness strikes an interesting chord with you. Exciting. Stimulating. Blood pumps in your ears - a deafening drum beat that only you can hear. You sway your hips to the rhythm and Astarion chews at his bottom lip, ready to pounce. Hunger burns in his stomach. Emptiness. Even though he'd fed on you just hours before, his mouth salivates like he's positively starved. He intends to devour you in one way or another.

Your tormentor rears back to land another blow, this time to your ass, and it nearly knocks you forward into the wall. You grit your teeth and stifle a scream and Astarion groans at your strained noises. He's enjoying this almost as much as you are, you're just much better at hiding it. Arousal soaks your folds. Your walls flutter around nothing and you chew your bottom lip to stifle a moan as Abdirak lands a third blow against your thigh. Nails dig into the stone bricks, almost bloodying your fingers. Gods, you want more. Need more. Abdirak takes a step back to admire his work, rubbing the tip of the mace up your inner thigh, dangerously close to your cunt. You whimper and he quirks an eyebrow. In a sudden change of mind, he swaps the mace for a paddle, little circles cut from the wood to increase the sensations. A quick smack earns a loud cry from your lips.

"That's it, dear one! Let Loviatar hear you!"

"Not the worst technique, priest. Good wrist movement. Lots of.. Enthusiasm." Shadowheart interjects again plainly.

Astarion continues to palm at his cock as he watches, eyes fixed solely on you. The way your blood bubbles up and trickles over your flesh. The scent of your arousal. It's the sweetest perfume and he can hardly control himself.

"You're being so good for him, darling. Keep going."

The vampire spawn's voice is breathy and low. You moan just from his words and Abdirak lands another smack to your opposite ass cheek, a large red print immediately surfacing and swelling on your skin. "Fuck!" You cry loudly. Tears sting in the corners of your eyes. The human grins and sets the paddle down, moving behind you to trace his fingers over each bruise, cut, and mark he'd left. Little trophies of devotion. His goddess will be pleased. You shiver at the contact of his fingers.

"Sweet child.. You bore the pain like a true believer. I am proud to have served you this penance."

"Th-Thank you.." You muster quietly, bottom lip still trembling at the threat of tears. "I enjoyed myself."

Abdirak tilts his head back and sighs heavily, one hand reaching down to trace over your bruises once more. His cock throbs beneath his garb and he presses a free hand into it, groaning at the friction.

"As did I, dear one. Loviatar herself found your performance.. inspiring."

He grins and steps to your side, leaning close to your ear. His breath is warm and smells of a metal. More goosebumps speckle your skin as he presses his lips to your pointed ear and whispers quietly.

"And on a personal note.. Thank you. That was positively divine. This doesn't have to be the end, however. You've proven yourself perfectly capable of accepting such exquisite pleasure. I'd love to show you so much more."

"She'd love that. May I assist?" Astarion murmurs, approaching the two of you with confidence.

Normally you'd be incredibly irritated by the vampire spawn speaking for you, but now, Gods you couldn't be more grateful. A cold hand cups your cunt suddenly and you jolt at the sensation, back arching forward as Astarion's middle finger presses just barely into your folds and against your clit.

"Mm. She's so wet for us."

Sharp teeth just barely pierce your shoulder, a sensation you've become all too used to ever since you discovered the pale elf's affliction. You'd let him feed on you when it was needed, and sometimes purely because you enjoyed how he'd hold you close to him. How he'd savor your taste and lick your skin clean. His sweet words of encouragement as he'd bite into another place. And the way he'd talk you through the dizziness once he was finished. Your brain whirs with arousal as Astarion coos quietly against your skin and presses little kisses to the now bleeding spot. He drags his fangs over your flesh with torturous slowness, exhaling heavily at the salty taste of your sweat and blood combined. The finger pressed to your clit begins moving in circles and you nearly fall apart right there. Your legs tremble. Toes curl against the stone beneath your feet. Abdirak picks up the paddle once more and eyes Astarion. They exchange a glance of approval and the paddle makes fiery contact with your skin once more, over the same swollen spot it had assaulted before.

A mix of pain and pleasure courses through every vein in your body and your vision goes white. You could cum at any moment. Another smack. And another. And another. Astarion lowers his hand from your cunt, landing a smack of his own against your folds and your knees nearly give out at the force.

"Gods, please.." you whimper loudly, head falling between your shoulders.

"Yes, beg for it, dear one. You're doing so well for us."

"What a good girl you are, darling."

Their combined praises is enough to push you over the edge, but you hold on tightly. You can't cum. Not yet. Astarion's fingers circle around your slick soaked slit, playing with the clear sticky fluid for a moment. One digit slides inside first and you whine loudly, hips pushing back against him.

"M-more.." you beg.

A second finger slides inside and stretches your entrance ever so slightly, the cold digits pressing firmly into that spongey spot that could stop your heart.

"More!" You cry, and both men behind you grin at your desperation.

Abdirak slides his index finger into his mouth to soak it with his spit before lowering it between your thighs, forcing it inside of you atop Astarion's hooked fingers. The stretch burns in the most delicious of ways.

"Please.. Please more.."

A second finger of Abdirak's slides inside and finally you're sated, hips bucking back against their hands rhythmically. Astarion kneels down and sinks his teeth into your left ass cheek, blood trickling from the flesh and down his chin as he sups of your nectar, his eyes rolling back in his skull. He can taste your orgasm building. Your arousal and desperation. Your every need and want. His fingers pump in and out of you with bruising speed and Abdirak follows suit, his free hand reaching around the front of your waist to pinch your clit between his thumb and index. He rolls the sensitive, swollen bud between his fingers and presses sloppy, open mouthed kisses down your bloodied ass and thigh, savoring the metallic tang of your blood and the sweetness of your sweat. A delectable treat for all of his senses. Your moans grow louder and louder, jaw hung open and drool falling from your mouth in a steady stream. An eager hand reaches up to shove itself into your mouth and cover itself in your spit before moving back to your clit, spreading the wetness around.

The knot in your belly grows tighter and tighter, wound like a bow string, and you squeeze your eyes shut at the near painful overstimulation of your slit. Still the fingers work furiously against your walls.

"I'm gonna - I need to - Gods please!"

"Ah ah ah, use your words, darling. What do you need?"

The spawn drags his tongue over the globe of your ass to clean the remainder of blood from your skin. A quiet groan escapes his lips and he stands again, free hand taking hold of your hair to stand you fully upright.

"I need to cum.. I'm gonna -"

Just as you're about to topple over the edge, both sets of fingers are pulled from your cunt, a thick rope of slick still connecting you with the two men standing behind you. You keen at the emptiness. Your walls squeeze and contract around nothing. Abdirak lands a hot smack against your clit, and then another, and another, grinning as you sob loudly at the strikes. His pulls his hand away reluctantly, slipping his slick covered digits into his mouth to suck them clean. Astarion flashes him a toothy grin.

"N-no please.. Please!"

All you can muster are pathetic pleas and raspy whines, your feet stomping in frustration against the dirty stone beneath you. Astarion's fingers wrap themselves around your throat from behind and yank your back against his front, the threat of his angry erection rubbing back and forth against your bruised ass. You're fully exposed. Vulnerable. Writhing and crying for release. Such a beautiful sight to the vampire spawn and the servant of Loviatar. This is torture.

"Shadowheart, my dear. Are you sure you're not interested in some fun?"

"I'd much prefer to watch, thank you."

The half elf smirks and leans against the wall, eyes scanning over the scene just a few feet away. Her eyes narrow on you and you can feel her gaze burning holes into the back of your head. Does she approve? Do you even care? Skilled fingers work the front of Astarion's leathers open and his cock springs up and out, a soft slap against your ass startling you from the heavy daze filling your head. Your brain feels like cold snow slush. Your legs are weak, growing weaker by the second as Astarion rubs the tip of his weeping cock against your hungry slit. You nearly pull him right in and he hisses at the tightness. The invitation. Abdirak lowers himself to his knees in front of you, both hands finding purchase on your hips to keep himself steady. Gentle kisses pepper your abdomen, hip bones, and your stubbly mound, a shiver running up your your spine at the warmth of his breath against your sex. You wiggle your hips, both to tease the vampire spawn behind you, and to beckon the human's lips toward the spot you need him most.

Without warning, Astarion slips inside. His size surprises you. The delicious burn of the stretch, how he's nearly in your guts before bottoming out. Gods, he's huge. A careful push of the hips nestles him fully inside and he waits there for a moment.

"By the nine hells, you're tight.." He murmurs, lips pressed tightly to your ear now.

Abdirak's tongue flattens against your clit and he lifts his head to slide it up and over your mound, repeating this same movement to go back down. His strokes are slow and calculated. The combination of sensations makes your legs tremble like leaves in the winter air, and your hands fly down to tangle in the human's hair and guide his head. With a tut, Astarion reaches around to quickly grasp your wrists and yank them behind your back - you're pinned in place, forced to submit to his quickening thrusts and the skilled swirling of Abdirak's tongue. Your frame bends forward just slightly at the force of the spawn's thrusts, your legs spreading further apart instinctively. Again, that familiar knot twists and tightens in your belly and surely you'll cum at any moment. Astarion's free hand moves your hair away from the side of your neck to expose the still-healing bite marks from just the night before. He lines his fangs up perfectly re-open the wounds and you hiss at the sting. Like shards of ice in your veins. Overcome by pleasure and blood loss, your vision goes fuzzy. Drool drips from your lips and down your chin. Positively cock drunk.

Not even a soft moan is able to escape now. Only heavy exhales and gasps making your lungs burn and your throat raw. Abdirak's tongue works with surprising artistry against your clit still, lips sucking and tugging at the bundle of nerves to earn any sounds he possibly can from you. The loud slap of skin against skin rings throughout the stone room. Surely the rest of the outpost could hear you. You're surprised you don't have an audience gathered in the door way, watching the way you're being devoured and fucked into oblivion. The vampire spawns teeth leave your neck with a soft slurp sucking the last little drops of your blood through the puncture wounds, his tongue swirling around his lips and teeth to collect the remnants. Astarion's thrusts begin to lose their rhythm and you can't help but grin as his cock twitches erratically inside of you. Abdirak quickly releases your clit from his swollen lips, ducking his head further to use his tongue on Astarion now. The tip of the human's tongue traces the furry outline of the vampire spawns sack before sucking one ball into his warm mouth, massaging it in his jaw. The he switches, and the primal growl that escapes Astarion makes your heart flutter.

"Fuck, I'm cumming! Oh gods, I'm cumming!" He groans loudly, nails digging harshly into the plush meat of your hips as he quickly pulls himself from your constricting walls and spills his seed onto the small of your back.

Your end draws near, Abdirak's fingers finding their way into your cunt with impressive speed. They hook forward into that perfect spot and you cry out loud, finally able to make some sort of noise. The spawn behind you rubs his softening cock against your ass, keeping a tight grip on your arms behind your back still. Quiet squelches and slurps from the human between your thighs make you grin. Disgusting. Cold hands keep a careful grip on your trembling body. One restraining your hands, the other wrapped tightly around your throat now, playing with the pressure against your arteries. First a soft squeeze. Then it builds, and your hearing muffles. Black spots invade your vision. The spawn releases, and all of it comes rushing back. You gasp loudly for air, lungs on fire. Playfully, he repeats this again and again - bringing you to the brink of unconsciousness then quickly yanking you back. Soft coos and words of praise work you up to your climax.

"Such a good girl. So obedient. You like that, don't you? You like when I tell you how good you are?"

You nod in agreeance, unable to speak. Words feel foreign on your tongue. Your mouth is dry now, like you've filled it with linen. Still your end builds. Loud cries, sobs, and screams alert all of Faerun of your pleasure. You should be embarrassed. Ashamed, even. But you couldn't care less. Not now. You nearly topple over the precipice of pure ecstasy when suddenly.. The feeling disappears. Abdirak moves back from his original spot. Your cunt aches. Empty. A soft whimper escapes you and your head falls back against Astarion's broad shoulder.

"You thought we were going to let you cum? Little love.. How naïve."

His words sting like bees. Little Love. The degradation should upset you. Should ruin whatever arousal you have left. But it doesn't. If anything, it adds oil to the fire. You're more wet than ever. Heat rises in your ears and the tips turn a bright red, your fists balling up behind you in frustration as you try and wiggle out of his grasp. Through gritted teeth, you growl. A pathetic performance, on your part. Abdirak stands before you and circles his index finger over both of your nipples, smirking at you with half lidded eyes as each one perks up.

The half elf across the room giggles in amusement.

"Positively cruel."

"Patience, dear one.. You'll meet your end soon enough."

[sweetmage]

Click for full res!🩸

Decided I'm using the free cam mod for evil now 😌✨️

[space-blue]

BG3 Fic Feb, comic edition, day 9:

Meeting Abdirak. This is a direct rif on this and that. (aka Gale struggles to keep his Tav's sticky fingers off the old tiefs already)

[bg3scenarios]

Abdirak: Hello, Dear Ones

Abdirak: My name is Abdirak

*cuts a pattern in Tav’s back with a dagger*

Abdirak: And you’re watching Disney Channel

[childofyuggoth]

Raphael/Haarlep lovers! Do you want to snuggle up to your own personal cambion/incubus? Or maybe you have a Tav or other NPC you'd love to see represented in fiber form?

I am opening three slots for custom BG3 amigurumi! Pictured below is our favorite cambion, with fully poseable wings/tail/horns, a magnetic contract, and gold-embroidered doublet.

This is my *own custom pattern* that I designed. It can be modified for a human Raphael or a Haarlep with leather harness.

Price/detailed info below the cut!

Raphael as shown below with contract is $95, which is representative of the time and labor necessary to make the wire frames for his wings/horns and tail. (in total, this devil takes about 10 hours to make). He is roughly 8" tall and 6" wide with wings fully extended.

Human form Raph is $75, same design as above minus wings/tail/horns.

Haarlep is the same price as cambion Raphael.

Custom Tavs/other BG3 characters are priced according to difficulty and material cost. (I would love to make an Abdirak or a He-Who-Was (with Quothe), or even a Karniss!)

If you're a crafter and would like a pattern, it's $20. (included is my free consultation and troubleshooting!)

Turnaround time is 4-6 weeks, so if you want something for the holidays, get your orders in now. Payment via Paypal/Venmo. (also I do work full-time, so please be patient).

[forkingbrusselsprout]

And on a personal note, thank you. That was positively divine.

[lavenderfluorite14]

A Taste of Plums | Astarion x Female!Tav

Chapter 12: Penance

Summary: The fun continues in a hidden, bloodied shrine.

Rating/Warnings: 18+ Explicit Content ❤️‍🔥, BDSM, Impact Play, Flogging, Painplay, Loviatar's Blessing Scene (Baldur's Gate), Semi-Public Sex, Voyeurism, Bloodplay/Vampirism, Vaginal Fingering, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Sex, Creampie, Unprotected Sex But No Pregnancy, Sexual Abuse and Recovery, Unhealthy Attitudes Towards Sex, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Under-negotiated Kink. Full tag list on AO3. Read on AO3. Chapter 11.

A/N:

This chapter is dedicated to all the lil freaks out there (affectionate). Letting an evil priest whip you bloody on a dirty dungeon floor at the suggestion of your crush without establishing a clear safeword is not safe or sane, please do not use this as good or appropriate BDSM etiquette or representation. Please only use this as porn :)) And if this is not your jam, don't worry! Currently, this is the only chapter that will have heavy BDSM elements, although I do plan to continue to explore certain themes. We will be back to our regularly scheduled program soon.

The inner sanctum of the defiled temple is another den of debauchery, but of an even darker sort. The familiar scent of charred flesh fills the air and the even more familiar sound of screaming drifts in and out as they carefully make their way through the bowels of the ruin. In the middle of the chamber, a goblin booyhag stands over bright coals, heating up what appears to be a branding iron. They all give her a wide berth.

“By my Dark Lady, this place is a labyrinth,” Shadowheart wonders aloud. Despite her amazement, Shadowheart’s words carry an unmistakable note of disdain.

The scent of fresh blood fills Astarion’s nostrils as they pick their way up a narrow flight of stairs. “There’s blood in the air. The blood of a thinking creature,” he whispers to Tav. He leads them to a dark alcove. 

“Halsin?” Tav calls quietly into the darkness. As they peer into the shadows a figure stirs, rising to its feet.

“I’ve met few aside from goblins here. Have you come to assist with the prisoner?” a deep, rough voice answers. A man emerges from the gloom, clutching a flail that drips a steady stream of blood. His handsome face is scarred with deep gashes and his cool eyes glitter with an expectant gleam. His robe is a curious garment littered with barbs and thorns that dig into his exposed chest, drawing blood with each movement. The droplets well and gather against his pricked flesh like precious, pendulous rubies. One bloody bead breaks free, sliding down his pec to splatter against the stone floor. Astarion digs his teeth into the inside of his lip at the indecent display.

This man is a follower of Loviatar, Goddess of Pain. He glances over to Shadowheart, who must also recognize the stranger’s dark, distinctive raiment. There is a heaviness in her gaze and a twitch to her lip that suggests that Shadowheart is also deeply familiar with pain.

“What prisoner?” Tav probes.

“The gentleman being held next door. My acquaintance is working on him, I believe.” A scream pierces their conversation, reverberating through the stone halls until it is a distorted wail. Whatever they are doing to that man does not sound pleasant.

“While I was thrilled to be invited here, I must confess I find goblins and their methods-" he pauses, trying to find the right words, “…crude and primitive.” He smiles a tight, patronizing smile. “Pain without purpose is a terrible thing, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I thought a follower of Loviatar would approve of pain,” Tav answers. Astarion can’t help but eye her curiously. What does a pretty little bard know about such a dark goddess?

“You know the Maiden of Pain? How refreshing,” the priest smiles. “But there is more to us than that. Yes, we worship her through pain, often our own. But it is an intimate and loving thing we offer up,” he insists.

Astarion doesn’t know about all that. He wouldn’t describe any of the pain Cazador inflicted as loving . No matter what Cazador had said. At least Cazador’s punishments had been fun to watch, when they weren’t intended for him.

“But trying to discuss such subtleties with these creatures is…” the man trails off as his eyes rake over Tav, appraising her. “But I could show you such subtleties first-hand,” he offers with a sly, knowing smile. “If you would permit it, of course.”

Both Shadowheart and Astarion perk up at the audacious suggestion. They share an incredulous, almost excited, look. Is he truly suggesting what they think he is suggesting?

“How?” Tav asks, a touch breathless.

“Through penance, administered by my skilled hand, as the Maiden of Pain teaches us,” he explains with self-satisfied pride.

Shadowheart smirks at Astarion, a dark glimmer in her eye. He is suggesting what they think he is suggesting. He knows that look: excitement, interest, lust . Shadowheart wants to watch this too. In tandem, they glance over to Tav, who shifts back and forth on the balls of her feet restlessly.

“And why would I do that?” Tav asks dismissively. But her tone is a touch too aloof, too coy. It doesn’t match her agitated body language.

“Because my work can grant peace and serenity - the likes of which few experience. It will be worth it, I promise,” the man reassures her. His unctuous voice drips with an infectious enthusiasm. “Pain is a powerful and sacred sensation, and should we delight our Mistress - should we embrace such a gift - she will grant her most sacred of blessings.”

“Go ahead, I’m sure you’re in need of a little penance,” Shadowheart encourages airily, her proposal a blade wrapped in silk. Tav jumps in surprise, but Astarion snakes a grounding arm around her waist, anchoring Tav between them.

“I must see this. Don’t you dare say no,” he wheedles petulantly. He cannot keep a small, wicked grin from his lips. Tav looks up at him and any hesitation she may have had melts away from her features when she sees his hungry expression. She looks to Shadowheart, who gives an enticing nod. Tav nods back.

“I must admit, I am quite curious,” Tav confesses. “And I’ll take any blessing I can get at this point.”

A red-hot coal of desire ignites in Astarion’s belly at the idea of Tav, submissive and bloody, willingly prostrating herself before them. That fantasy stokes his darkest instincts, the part of him that yearns to take and take until he is finally satisfied. Until he finally has his due. And if Tav is willing, then there is no reason why he shouldn’t enjoy the show. Perhaps Tav really is a little deviant after all, like he had originally guessed when she had offered him her blood for nothing in return. What a pleasant diversion this could be.

“I saw your book, priest. Let’s try some of those teachings on your newest convert,” Shadowheart suggests, taking charge effortlessly. Lae’Zel stands back, watching them all with doubtful curiosity.

“My, such eager students I have found. Those are advanced devotions.” He crosses over to a stone table, thumbing the text reverently. “The Mistress would approve,” he murmurs. He turns eagerly back to Tav, gesturing smoothly to the implements arranged neatly on the table. He’s brought a small armory of weapons with him. “Indicate which instrument calls to you, and then let us put it to work,” he grins.

“Let me pick,” Astarion interjects excitedly. Tav hesitates, but only briefly.

“Alright. I trust you,” she says. Something gentle flutters inside of him at her misplaced, absurd words.

“Trust is an essential element of the Mistress’s teachings,” the priest explains approvingly. “Trust in our bodies. In our ability to endure her glorious agony. “ His grin widens. “And trust in our betters to only inflict what we can endure.”

Astarion strolls over to the table, examining all of the Loviatan accouterments with a detached air that is utterly feigned. The variety is truly staggering, ranging from the sophisticated to the medieval. So many delicious options. How fun to be the one choosing the punishment rather than receiving the punishment.

His hand lingers on a knife quite similar to his own, which is part of its appeal. A brief memory from that awful night flickers in his mind and he quickly flinches away. Astarion can almost feel his scars burning through his armor. He doesn’t want that kind of pain for Tav. Instead, Astarion finds himself drawn to a much more traditional implement. Something that will hurt, but that can be healed quickly with their magic. Something that they will both enjoy. He plucks a whip off the table, marveling at its supple leather tail. It feels light and agile in his hands. 

Cazador had not favored flogging. He had preferred more creative cruelties.

“A very, very fine choice,” the priest purrs approvingly. He takes the whip from Astarion and steps back, effortlessly cracking the thong. Lae’Zel chks at the demonstration.

“I’d criticize your lack of imagination, but you’ve chosen surprisingly well,” Shadowheart teases.

“I have excellent taste, if I do say so myself,” Astarion smirks.

“You do,” Tav says, blushing furiously. If he had any blood himself, he suspects he would be blushing too. Gods, she’s so pretty when all that marvelous blood rushes to her face.

“Both Loviatar and I are interested in how you handle pain, dear one. And should you please her, she will grant her most sacred of blessings. Just face the wall and we can begin,” the priest instructs with barely contained enthusiasm.

Tav looks back to Shadowheart, who tilts her chin towards the wall imperiously. Then she looks to Astarion, and a flicker of hesitation crosses her features. He knows that look. Astarion crosses to her, cupping her cheek in his hand.

“Is everything alright, darling?” He caresses her warm cheek with his thumb. “Can you be a good girl for us?” He asks lowly. Tav nods. “I need you to say it, my treasure.”

“Yes,” she says. “I’ve always wanted to try something like this, I don’t know why I’m suddenly nervous,” she reveals. “I suppose I just didn’t think my first time would be in a goblin war camp.”

“I’ll be here the whole time. I won’t let anything bad happen to you,” he coos, perhaps a touch too patronizingly.

“We will be here the whole time,” Shadowheart chimes in. Lae’Zel is a silent but attentive sentinel behind them. “And I will heal you up afterward. You have nothing to fear.“

“Thank you,” Tav says, smiling at each of them.  

“Good girl.” Astarion releases her. “Now, all that being said, don’t forget to put on a good show,” he reminds her, flashing a fanged smile.

“Yes. The only thing to fear here is boring us,” Shadowheart says lightly.

“A show? Is that what you want?” Tav asks. Her fingers find the buttons on her gaudy jerkin. Slowly she pops each one open, revealing the swell of her breasts and the soft plane of her abdomen to her captivated audience. Slipping out of her armor, she drops it carelessly on the floor before them. Hinging at the waist, she slowly bends over, sliding her ridiculous striped leggings over the full curve of her ass. When she straightens Tav is in nothing but her underwear, which still covers far too much skin for Astarion’s liking.

“I just don’t want to ruin my clothes,” she says innocently. “I want to feel it all.”

Each one of them eyes her body, admiring her shapely form openly. The priest’s eyes rake over her approvingly, but he doesn’t flinch at her boldness. Astarion suspects that a half-naked woman asking to be whipped must be routine for him.

Tav slowly turns to the wall, placing her palms against the smooth stone with finality. “I’m ready,” she declares, planting her feet. Her smooth, unmarred back and plump bottom look perfect, even in the dim light. The priest smiles.

“Then we shall begin,” he says.

The priest strikes Tav across her back, the whip cracking thunderously through the air despite its small size. Tav yelps in surprise as the lash strikes her flesh, a cry that morphs into a scream of pain. Her scream sets Astarion’s teeth on edge and sends a shiver of delight surging through him.

“The pain you suffer will cleanse you - do not fight it!” The priest calls to her. He changes position, moving to strike her from the opposite side. The whip cracks across her back again and Tav lets out another delicious cry, convulsing in agony. Her arms tremble with strain and her nails dig into the rock, but she remains in position, trying her best to withstand the harsh blows.

Shadowheart leans in conspiratorially. “Would you have joined up with her if you had known she would be indulging this sort of thing, Astarion?” Her voice is laced with amusement. He leans in as well, meeting her halfway.

“I mean, I had my hopes,” he smirks. He makes sure his voice carries, loud enough for Tav to hear. There is something inside of Astarion that revels in this feeling of power, of authority, at seeing another person laid so low beneath him for his entertainment and pleasure. It makes his blood hot and his cock hard in a way that should be shameful, but Astarion had been deprived of so many things for so long that he unapologetically finds pleasure, no matter how dubious, wherever he can find it. And of course, he loves seeing blood spilled. Perhaps this is all just an extension of his vampirism.

Shadowheart has no such excuse though. What had those Sharrans done to her in their secretive little shadow cult? He wonders for a moment if he should feel jealous that Shadowheart is enjoying this as much as he is, but so far she seems content to merely watch. Astarion can handle a few lewd looks.

This time the priest aims lower, dragging the whip across her buttocks. Tav wails in pain, finally buckling against the wall. Tears prick her eyes, threatening to fall down her cheeks. The lower body was generally a fleshier part of the body that can better withstand blows, but it also has some very, very sensitive nerve endings. Astarion wants to run his fingers over her pained flesh, feel her whimper at his featherlight touch before digging his fingers into her purple bruises.

“That’s it, dear one! Let Loviatar hear you!” The priest roars, as if in ecstasy. He strikes her again, harder than the last time, across the meat of her thigh. Finally, he draws blood. Astarion digs his fingernails into his hand as he watches it pour down her leg in an obscene waterfall. The priest thrashes her again, giving her no quarter, this time breaking the skin across her back. Tav shrieks in pain, sobbing against the wall as she bleeds. But she still doesn’t cry for help. Astarion imagines himself against her, lapping against her wounds, comforting her with his tongue.

“My, my, who knew our friend had so much blood in them,” Astarion marvels.

“Try not to lick your lips as you say that,” Shadowheart responds. She leans in further. “And are you sure she’s just a friend?” Astarion ignores her jab, focusing on the spectacle before them.

“You are doing so well! Do not give in now!” The priest screams. He brings the whip down on her again and Tav screams a beautiful, ear-shattering scream.

“Don’t wear her out entirely priest, I may have use for her yet,” Shadowheart heckles from the sidelines. Astarion casts her a sidelong glance. Is that bluster or is there intent behind her comment? He can’t be sure, and that concerns him.

The priest strikes her one last time across the ass and this time Tav calls for mercy, sagging against the wall in a bloody heap. The priest breathes a deep, satisfied sigh as he lowers his whip.

“Sweet child, you bore the pain like a true believer. I could feel Loviatar’s pleasure with every strike.” He inclines his head towards Tav in a reverent nod. “I am proud to have served you this penance.” Tav picks herself up carefully, wincing with every movement. The priest lays his hands firmly on her shoulders, which begin to glow with a sinister red light. When the blessing is imparted, he draws back.

“And on a personal note, thank you. That was positively divine,” he croons.

“You are welcome. I….I learned a lot about myself,” Tav says, panting heavily. Turning, Tav musters up the courage to face both Shadowheart and Astarion, who watch her with calculatedly composed expressions. Tav stares at them expectantly.

“Well, whatever you are into,” Shadowheart says glibly. Tav stares at her incredulously and Astarion has to stop the chuckle forming in his throat. As if she hadn’t enjoyed every moment of Tav’s torment.

“This planet certainly has strange customs,” Lae’Zel finally comments into the strained silence. She seems more confused by the encounter than anything else.

“Give me just a moment,” Tav says, deflating, wobbling over to her pile of clothes. This time she simply crouches down instead of bending over provocatively. She gingerly pulls on her jerkin, flinching as the fabric brushes against her skin. “We should check on that prisoner the priest mentioned. It could be Halsin.” Already Tav is trying to slip back into the role of a capable, completely normal leader. He’s a little sorry to see this new, fragile side of her disappear so quickly.

Tav had done this to please him. For other dubious personal reasons, yes, but she had surrendered herself to the mercy of a mad priest for his enjoyment. A deep shiver of pleasure courses through him, settling into his pelvis.

“An excellent idea. Why don’t the two of you take a peek around that corner and see what in the sweet hells they are doing to poor Halsin, and I’ll stay here and get Tav all cleaned up,” Astarion suggests.

“I’m the cleric, I can easily heal her,” Shadowheart says, her hands already glowing blue.

“It’s ok, Shadowheart, I don’t want you to use any of your magic on this little misadventure. I have a healing potion I can take,” Tav insists. Shadowheart looks at her skeptically.

“It’s not as bad as it looks, I promise. I’m already feeling better.” Shadowheart raises a sculpted eyebrow.

“And we may need you later. We’re not out of the woods yet,” Tav clarifies. She straightens up. “That’s a good idea, Astarion. Shadowheart and Lae’Zel, go scout ahead and see if Halsin is next door. We’ll join you as soon as I’ve recovered.”

“Fine,” Shadowheart says, relaxing her casting stance. “But you both had better join us. Soon .” She looks between the two of them in warning. “Come on, Lae’Zel. Let’s do some actual work around here.” Lae’Zel moves quickly, eager to be away from this odd, uncomfortable scene.

As soon as the pair leave, Astarion grabs Tav’s arm and pulls her around a corner and into another small room, away from prying eyes. “Let me see, my darling,” Astarion says, his nimble fingers already working at the buttons of her jerkin. He slips it off gently, spinning her around so he can better see her wounded back. Bruises are already forming underneath the angry welts left by the whip. Blood weeps from her broken skin, streaming down her body in a river of crimson. Astarion curses under his breath at the exquisite sight.

“How does it look?” Tav asks, a little nervously.

“Hells below, that priest truly beat you bloody,” he says. Tav laughs a pained little huff.

“The ‘Maiden of Pain’ certainly lived up to her name,” she mutters. She cranes her neck to look back at him. “Did you enjoy the show?” Tav asks. Astarion’s hands clutch her waist. He’s careful not to pull her against him, despite the urge.

“It was fine, for a first act,” he says flippantly. He traces his index finger up her back, swiping through a trickle of blood with the pad of his finger. He sucks the digit into his mouth, savoring the rich taste of her blood. He stifles a low groan. “Now, let’s get you cleaned up, hm?” he suggests. Tav nods, bracing herself again against the stone wall. “Astarion, please-"

“AHEM!!!” 

A garrulous cough cuts through the air. Tav frantically tries to cover herself as they both whirl around to face the source of the noise.

Volothamp Geddarm leans against the bars of an admittedly well-constructed goblin cage, eyeing them up and down with both offended shock and scandalous intrigue.

“Volo! Are you alright?” Tav pants, re-buttoning her armor with haste.

“Oh, I’m as happy as a clam! Just enjoying the luxurious accommodations of my generous hosts,” he says.

“Astarion, can you-” Tav begins.

“With pleasure,” Astarion mutters sardonically, already bending down to pick the shoddy lock with ease. The door pops open and Volo lets out a jolly laugh.

“I am quite saved! Thank you, my fine friends. I guarantee the story of your rescue of my person will live on for aeons,” he promises with a flourishing bow.

“Don’t forget, it’s Tav and Astarion,” Tav reminds him excitedly. Volo scowls.

“That will sound ridiculous. But fine, if you insist. As much as it pains me to cede creative control. Still, once I’ve written you into my books, there won’t be a tavern in Faerûn where you won’t receive a hero’s welcome!” Astarion rolls his eyes at Volo’s boasting. As if a vampire spawn would ever be seen as a hero.

“Come now, we mustn’t tarry, surely you must have a camp nearby? Somewhere we can conduct a private interview once we’ve both slipped the goblin yoke?” Tav explains where they have made camp in a starstruck jumble of words and Volo vanishes with a swift sip of an invisibility potion, promising to pick their brains later. As soon as he is gone, Astarion pounces on Tav.

“Now, where were we?” Astarion says, reaching for the buttons on Tav’s armor. “Ah yes, right about here.” He slips her coat off and leads her to the wall, placing her hands against it. He covers her hand with his own, leaning in close to her ear. “You were begging for me.”

“Astarion, please,” she groans, arching her back and pressing her ass against him, grinding herself against his stiffness. “Are you sure? We’ll be caught-”

“Not if we’re quick and quiet, my sweet.” He plants a kiss on her tailbone, kissing his way up her naked spine. He takes meandering detours, lapping up rivulets of blood, following wherever they lead him. He peppers her body with bloody kisses, which in turn need to be licked up and swallowed down. When his mouth finally finds her wound he traces it adoringly with tongue, shivering at the taste of fresh blood. Unthinkingly he grinds against her ass, rubbing his pleasure against her. Tav whimpers and flinches as he works, in pain and overstimulated, but still meeting his thrusts halfway. When he senses it is too much he pulls away, crouching down behind her.

“But what I really want to see is this,” he says, pulling down her leggings. Her smallclothes are a damp mess and her thigh sports an irritated, red gash where the whip cut her. He dives in, licking up the bloody mess of her cut with zeal. She tastes so sweet, her skin is so soft to the touch. As he loses himself he removes his leather gloves, stroking her wetness over the flimsy fabric. Tav groans and buries her face in her arms, which are still propped against the wall. He slips underneath the fabric and slides his fingers inside her, roughly pumping against her secret, perfect spot. Almost immediately her legs begin to tremble and Tav bites her lip to stop herself from crying out. Soon, she comes around his fingers. Tav collapses against the wall, panting with pleasure.

Sated on blood at last, Astarion withdraws his fingers and replaces them with his tongue, licking her drenched flower with gentle kitten licks as Tav returns to her senses. He fumbles with his buckle, pulling his cock out and pumping himself furiously. He’s so close, he so close -

“You can fuck me,” Tav moans. “If you want-"

Astarion is already standing up, kicking her legs even further apart and positioning himself behind her. He pushes himself into her, a touch rougher than he had intended, and a pretty ngh! of effort escapes Tav’s lips. Astarion begins a fast and deep rhythm, trying and failing to stay quiet. A breathy, embarrassing whine escapes him on accident but he’s able to catch the subsequent ones, lowering them to rough grunts of pleasure. He tangles a hand in her hair, gripping the follicles at their base, firmly pulling Tav’s head back towards him. Now Tav is the one to whine in shameful ecstasy.

“I should have known,” he chokes out between thrusts. He tightens his grip on her hair and Tav releases another pitiful mewl. “I should have known my love was such a slut for pain.” Tav whimpers in admission. He lowers himself over her, his mouth at her ear. His pace quickens, plunging completely into her with every thrust. “Is that why you’re consorting with a vampire?” He nips at her, scraping his fangs against the shell of her ear. She shudders against him. “Is that why you like my bite so much, darling?” He mouths at her neck, teasing the sensitive skin with his pointed teeth.

“Astarion!” Tav comes again, her pussy gripping his cock in tight, incredible contractions. It’s too much, it’s just too much.

“Fuck, I’m - !”

Astarion comes in thick hot ropes, emptying himself deep inside of her as she shivers with her own orgasm. He thrusts a few more times, milking both their peaks for all they are worth. But as the potent rush of endorphins wanes, he is left with a bone-deep hollowness that feels like pyrrhic victory. He slowly releases his hold on Tav’s hair and slides out of her, removing himself from her wet warmth. His cum drips out of her, pooling with her blood on the stones below.

He quickly tucks himself away, buttoning up his trousers with quick precision. He takes in Tav’s disheveled appearance, her whipped and battered body, and feels the smallest surge of pride and satisfaction at being the one to dominate this time. He took what he wanted. She submitted to him and was happy to do so, a win-win. And if he’s done his job, then this degradation will still advance the plan. 

This is how the world works.

Tav stands and turns to face him, still a bloody mess despite his thorough attentions. Cupping his cheek, she presses her lips to his. The kiss is soft but firm, her mouth moving against his own with unyielding gentleness. When she breaks the kiss, she pulls his forehead down to rest against her own.

“You don’t have to hold back. Not with me,” she whispers so only he can hear. Astarion stiffens, recalling the uncomfortable honesty of the morning. What she asks for is impossible.

“If I didn’t I would kill you,” he answers, just as quietly.

Tav giggles. “Well, then, maybe hold yourself back a little.” 

If he fed until he was full, he would kill her. The Hunger is relentless. He will never be sated. 

And if he told her the rest, he would break her beautiful little heart. He will not be responsible for that. Not until he has to be. His mess is too disgusting, too shameful to see the light of day. 

She wraps her arms around him, holding him close. “But I meant what I said. All of it,” she insists again. Astarion returns her embrace. For a moment they stay like this, Astarion fully armored, Tav bloody and half-naked, just holding each other.

“Here, my darling, let’s truly get you cleaned up now.” His voice is shockingly tender to his ears.

~

Several healing potions and two prestidigitation spells later, Tav and Astarion round a corner to see Shadowheart laying a red hot poker against a screaming man’s side as Lae’Zel looks on in tacit approval.

“Holy hells, what are you two doing!?” Tav yells, rushing forward.

“Took you long enough. We have questioned the prisoner and found Halsin’s location,” Lae’Zel reports.

“The prisoner says there are dungeons even deeper than this one in the temple. Pens, where they keep the worgs. Halsin could be there,” Shadowheart explains. 

“Good job, I guess?” Tav says, rubbing her temples in frustration and disgust. “Astarion, will you-“

“Are you sure you don’t have any more questions for the prisoner?” Astarion asks cheekily, half chuckling. 

“Absolutely not. Now go free him,” Tav orders. “Still so bossy,” Astarion returns, picking the shackles effortlessly. The man falls from the rack, moaning with pain as he hits the floor.

“Wait,” Tav suddenly remembers. “Did you tell them anything about The Grove-” “No, I didn’t say a thing,” the man who must be Liam says, scrambling to his feet despite the pain. There’s a frantic look in his eyes, an animal instinct to bolt to freedom, “Thank you, thank you, I won’t forget this!” Liam rushes off into the darkness of the dungeon, disappearing down a cave tunnel.

~ The dungeons are easy enough to find. All they have to do is keep moving down, down, down. When they push open the heavy wooden doors, there is a joyous squeal of goblin children and a ferocious roar of animal pain. In one of the cramped cells a beast bares its teeth, bristling with rage as goblins poke and prod it with sharpened sticks.

An elf with the presence of a bear.

Halsin.

Chapter 13: Party