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gales-scary-dog-privilege · 1 month ago

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The Cycle of Revenge: A Gale x Tav Angst Oneshot

TW: Mentions of SA, Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death (Gale's orb detonation), and Mentions of Mass Murder.

Full thing under the cut.

It starts at the end. The netherbrain's brain stem.

Damon was used to feeling fear. After all, what was courage without being afraid? Ever since the Half-Elf was sixteen and lost everything, save his twin sister and his childhood friend, he'd always been in a state of fear. Fear that he'd lose it all a second time, and he should have been able to stop it. Fear that he wouldn't be there to stop it. Fear that he wouldn't be strong enough to stop it.

So no, Damon Aloidonys was no stranger to fear, but maybe if he had been able to keep that fear contained a little better, maybe if he had been a little quicker, maybe... just maybe, Gale would still be with him. But instead, Gale had seen it, and sacrificed himself for them all.

To Gale it was an act of love. He would sacrifice himself to save his beloved at any cost. He could not bear to see Damon in such a state. He'd told the wizard about how he believed his remaining family thought he was dead. Gale knew he loved his family so very much; and he dared not take that man away from them, the ones who had known him all his life.

Gale knew that a netherbrain would be a close call if they fought it as they were; and he knew that Damon was a Tempuran, follower of the lord of battles. He would not back down from this without a fight, and the odds were not in their favor. He wouldn't let the Eldritch Knight and Paladin of Tempus risk his life like he had done so many times before.

So, Gale Dekarios decided he would instead. He detonated the orb.

Damon, of course, tried to stop him. He wasn't quick enough. Gale transported the rest of the party away, to a safe distance. In the Fighter's mind, he was back in Summerhaven, his now destroyed home. Back to that day when his father told him to run with his sister as far as he could. He was sixteen and willing to fight, but his father told him no. He was now forty-five, able to fight, not just willing, and he still felt just as helpless.

After everything, Damon truly and utterly felt helpless.

To Damon, despite the battle clearly won, it felt like he truly lost for the first time in ages. He fought so hard for this. Defeated the goblins so the refugees could pass, Defeated Ketheric and the aspect of Myrkul to save the land from the Shadow Curse, Defeated Gortash and Orin to save the city from murder and tyranny, and now...

And now, Damon Aloidonys had lost everything. Again.

He knew in his heart that he couldn't handle another loss this big. Damon had given Gale his heart. He was his heart. And when he died in that final battle, so did Damon.

For six months, Damon had found himself fishing up the Crown of Karsus. It was the thing that was supposed to be given back to Mystra to be destroyed. To truly save Gale from the orb. Now it was nothing more than a memory, but the only memory still left of him.

At first, Damon only retrieved the pieces so that he could keep it out of evil hands; after all, it was what led Karsus to his death, and the same for Gale. There was no way he'd allow another to do so without a fight. That, at least, Damon could still do.

But some gods decided they weren't going to leave him alone.

At first, Shar tormented him; the loss he felt gnawed at his psyche like a rabid animal. The lady of loss probably felt vindication in it—he'd caused her to lose her best project, after all. Plagued him with nightmares, it felt like... But that was just a petty goddess, and Damon knew all she wanted was his suffering. Damon had suffered a lot, and if Shar thought she could make it worse, she was wrong.

It didn't stop his grieving, of course. He'd never had the time to really process all he'd lost before. He had been in a constant state of survival his entire life and he figured the shadows of his past would just come right back and he'd do the same song and dance—distracting himself from the pain by continuing on a different turmoil.

But no, no this was different.

He saw no signs of what had kept him for ten years away from the last bit of family he had. He'd showed his ugly face countless times in Baldur's Gate, and yet... Nothing. For a while he felt that anxiety creep up his spine, wondering where he was, what he was doing; but after the first month of silence, finding the pieces of the crown? He realized the bastard must have left him alone. In his wallowing, his filth. Maybe he saw just how broken he'd become, and saw no reason to maintain it anymore.

That was when Garagos tempted him.

Damon knew of the Reaver—he was the true enemy of his god, Tempus and was taught the legend well—and of course at the beginning Damon denied him quite readily. The former god of war just wanted blood, and the Paladin of Tempus did not revel in bloodshed. He fought to protect people, not harm them, and he cared deeply still for the lives of the innocent.

Garagos still planted a seed. The Master of All Weapons knew a sharp blade when he saw it, and while he had a short fuse, he saw an opportunity in Damon—one that if he waited for the grief and resentment against the Lady of Mysteries to truly grow, then he could best his enemy.

In truth, The Reaver was right. Damon's temper had always been his greatest flaw in a fight. His greatest counterweight to it was his devotion to protecting those he loved, and without that reminder... well, it was easy to hate the Mother of Magic.

Of course, the Eldritch Knight combated the rage. Damon was still devoted to his goddess, the Red Knight, and her teachings. He knew that his rage would not help him, especially if he were to fight those who would get the crown for their own gain. But his most recent and strongest reason to fight was gone, and with each reminder of why he was protecting the pieces of the crown, the pain tore into what was left of his very being.

His mother had warned him once, that to wear his heart on his sleeve would make him vulnerable. He knew she was right, and readied himself for those dangers—he became resilient, immovable. He could withstand anything that came to him as long as his heart still had a beat.

But each time he remembered Gale. Each time he reminded himself of why the Crown needed to stay out of evil hands, his heart ached. In the back of his mind, he wondered... what was the point anymore?

When he got the invitation from Withers, he debated on going or not. He knew he was a mess, and Damon didn't want the companions he had grown close to see him like this—frail, broken— but when he read that Tara would be there, well... far be it for him to deny seeing Gale's dearest friend.

The party was... fine. Damon was delighted and relieved to see the others doing well. He put on a facade, hoping it would keep them from asking questions about how he's been—but the facade was weak, and almost everyone saw through it. The mask he wore to hide his hollow husk fell immediately, however, when he saw the image of Gale.

At first he thought he was seeing things—surely, Gale was dead—but when Tara approached him, telling him that he left this last bit of magic for Damon, everything he'd felt, all the pain he'd bottled up, came crashing down when the magic faded, his last words ingrained in his mind. The realization that Gale was truly gone broke his facade entirely, so much so that even his companions couldn't comfort him.

What was the point anymore? Gale was gone. Why was he hiding away if there was no hope for him? What hope could possibly survive in him after knowing his heart was dead?

There was no point. All that was left was rage.

The anger he felt against Mystra was overwhelming. Damon had kept his rage in check for his entire life, fearing hurting those who didn't deserve it, didn't deserve his unnatural strength aimed against them. But now? Now he can't help but find comfort in it. After months of feeling nothing, forcing himself not to feel the strong emotion to preserve his former self, he thought—why should he? His anger was just as much a part of him as anything else. In fact, it was all that was left of him.

Why should he ignore it anymore?

As Damon left the party, his anger was tested. Kevin decided now was finally the time he'd show his face to him. The asshole who manipulated him, took advantage of him, controlled him. The asshole who threatened his family in order to keep him in check was here, and all the pent up rage exploded into a shower of blood and gore.

After everything Kevin Alistair put him through, all the pain, the charm spells, the coercion. He had the audacity to show his face to him now, of all times, at his lowest. He tried to convince him that he was worthless, that Gale just couldn't wait to blow himself up to get away from him, but Damon knew better. Gale didn't blow himself up to get away from him, in his mind he did so because a goddess had made the wizard feel expendable. He blew himself up because he felt the world would be better without him.

They were both wrong.

Damon didn't waste a breath. He stabbed him multiple times. He remembered the pain Astarion felt when he stabbed Cazador, a similarly evil and vile creature as Kevin. He wondered if what he felt was the same. In the end, while the vile fae-pacted warlock lay dying, Damon whispered in his ear a final parting word.

"I'm not holding back anymore."

Damon felt the same feeling of loss just the same as the last time he'd broken his oath. When he had broken his oath the first time, he bared the pain of losing it, feeling it in its entirety, knowing he'd lost a vital part of his very being. This time, however, he felt nothing. There was no emptiness to feel as he already was.

When the oathbreaker knight appeared for the second time, he curiously asked why. This time, Damon only replied, "I'm breaking my oath on purpose."

This of course puzzled the oathbreaker knight. The last time he'd broken his oath he'd given a different answer, a far more regretful tone—one of duty rather than purpose. Now? Now it was firm, calculated—with purpose. He truly wanted this.

His first act as an oathbreaker was raising Kevin. His first undead servant. The first of many, of course, but Damon found meaning in this one. A truly fitting end for a bastard such as him, but a purpose in his motivations—Damon was doing this to be rid of people like Kevin, rid of corrupt gods such as Mystra. While he may have broken his oath, he vowed a new one—that no worshiper of the Lady of Mysteries should bare her abuse, and no worshiper who put their faith in her shall spread her vile word.

Damon Aloidonys knew he could not kill a god as a mortal—that much still rang true in his mind. But the Crown... It could give it to him. He could become a god. The trouble was figuring it out. He wasn't smart like Gale. He knew Gale could do it, but Damon... Damon was an idiot in everything but war. He'd need to figure it out first, grow stronger.

Growing stronger he could do.

He started small—places that revered Mystra but weren't truly devoted to her. Still with his old self somewhat in tact, he started by convincing them that Mystra was not the goddess she said she was. For a spell, it worked. He gathered followers, converted those of wavering faith to follow him instead, help him ascend. They fought monsters and creatures to convince them that he was worth the trouble—worth forsaking the Mother of Magic so that he could enact the vengeance he so craved.

Damon Aloidonys was convincing, although deep down he knew this was wrong.

Garagos combated it handily—reminding the fallen Paladin of his motivation, the reason he was doing this in the first place, taking advantage of Damon's grief— this angered his former gods. He was an Aloidonys, the most devoted family in the business of war, and Damon was the best of them—the strongest of wills, the strongest of conviction—and for their enemy to take advantage of him, the one who would be a chosen of Tempus? Outrageous.

However, there was still one who could convince him to return—Damon's twin sister, Angelina Aloidonys. Much like all Aloidonys', she too had the drive her twin brother had, just more spell oriented—a sorcerer and cleric of Selune. She was the reason Damon had taken his oath in the first place, so maybe, if the stars aligned, he could be redeemed before it was too late. Little did the Red Knight know, however, that this would be a long and difficult process.

Lina and Caleb had been searching for Damon for ten years—ever since his disappearance after Kevin split them apart. The rat bastard may have told them he was dead, but Lina always knew—a twin sense, she called it. Her idiot brother would never die from just anything, he was too strong—too strategic. He caught the attention of the Red Lady herself, there was no way he was dead.

It as what led her to Baldur's Gate—talk of a large event had happened months ago. Some cult rose to power and several heroes saved the gates. There were few casualties, one that had a name on headlines, but the thing that caught her attention was the one who led the charge. No one had his name, those who knew him in the fight refused to give it, but a half-elf with tattoos on his face and heterochromia that matched her own—she knew it was him. It was Damon, her brother.

She asked around, looking for clues, Caleb uninterested due to the long amount of time they'd spent searching before. Lina was certain there would be a lead, she could feel it like an arcane surge—a call like Damon wanted to be found, maybe even Selune guiding her to where she needed to be.

At first it took a while, no one really knew much about the man who led the charge against the netherbrain—at least not passerbys. Most of the rumors led to a wolf of a man terrorizing churches and the like, but the bartender of the Elfsong mentioned he was a rather charming guy—used to be a regular for years and rolled up recently talking about solving murders. She asked him who else knew of him, or who fought with him in the battle. His answer was less than ideal, but mentioned a name—Jaheira. A Harper who lived in Baldur's Gate.

When they knocked on her door, the Harper was suspicious of them. "Isn't it strange you come here asking for me of all people? An old woman?" she asked, crossing her arms. "I'd guess you were trying to indoctrinate me into a cult—well too bad, I just recently dismantled one and I don't feel like getting back into it."

"I hear you knew the man who lead the fight against the netherbrain recently," Lina responded quickly.

Catching her attention, the old half-elf raised a brow. "And what of it?" She asked, curious as to why she cared.

"His name was Damon Aloidonys, right?"

"Lina...!" Caleb hissed. The dark haired and scraggly half-elf rogue had always been annoyed with how blunt the twins always were. No tact, just directly to the point.

Unfortunately for the sneak, the sorcerer would be proven right. Jaheira, surprised they knew his full name, agreed that she knew him, but it had been months since she or anyone else had seen him. She offers to help, realizing that this was the fabled twin sister Damon had always talked about, but warned that even if they find him, he would still be grieving.

Lina was startled by this. If he was still grieving, then something big must have happened during the fight. Maybe losing a close ally or maybe more than just one. When she asked, however, Jaheira refused to elaborate, saying that the only person who was at liberty to talk about it was Damon himself. It was then that Lina began to worry, a knot forming in her gut.

Something told her that Jaheira's warning meant something bigger than just seeing her brother as an empty husk.

Regardless they set off to find him. Without many leads besides where Jaheira knew he was staying before, they started there, hoping to find clues as to where he'd gone. It took them a while—Damon, while not the smartest in many ways, knew how to cover his tracks well. Caleb was surprised since he'd always known him to be way more up front about it. Lina, however, worried far more. If he'd gotten this good at hiding, then something must have happened to him to cause it, and she didn't like what that entailed.

Eventually they stumbled across a map—one hidden away in a hole in the floor. It revealed several locations, some crossed off, others with fresh ink. Damon had been there recently; meaning he could come back again.

Caleb suggested they stake it out—wait for him to return. Jaheira argued against it, saying if he is to return then he has more time to do whatever he was planning. Unbeknownst to Lina and Caleb, Jaheira noticed something missing—the Crown of Karsus. They couldn't have known he had it, but with it missing, it meant something far more concerning could be at foot, and so she suggested to go to these towns marked on the map. Caleb argued that there were no guarantees that he'd still be at any of these, that it could be too late, but Lina suggests to go to one of the more recent ones—the ones where the marks are fresh.

Eventually they head out as fast as they can to the one that was freshest. Unfortunately, it seemed that they were slightly delayed, noticing a panic in town, away from a church. The rumor of a wolf of a man rang in Lina's head—she feared that this was it, and that Damon might be caught up in it. As they rushed to the nearest church, Jaheira noticed it was a temple of Mystra, and she stopped them both.

"Are the two of you absolutely sure you want to confront this man?" Jaheira warned, holding their arms firmly as the panic continued.

"If he's tangled up in this mess, then yes!" Lina snapped, ripping her arm from the old half-elf.

"I fear he may not just be tangled up in it, cub," She warned again.

Lina ignored her warnings. No matter if she was right or not, that was her twin brother. Whatever was happening, Lina was going to be there this time.

As they approach the church, there are undead patrolling the grounds. They pay them no mind, the three of them apparently off their list of targets. When they enter, its apparent that a bloodshed had happened—slaughtered clergy of Mystra sprawled about the floor. Lina's eyes wander wildly around looking, for her brother, but she stops when she sees a figure in front of a statue of the Lady of Mysteries.

A man who wore hellish armor, a helm, and wielding two longswords.

At first Caleb doesn't believe it—no way was this Damon, the heroic and selfless half-elf who defended people like this—innocent people, clerics of all things—he'd sworn an oath of devotion, to protect people, not harm them.

But Lina knew better than that. She wished it wasn't true, but knew that it must be him. She called out his name, hoping he wasn't the one under the helm.

But no, she was right. She's always right.

The figure took off his helm, his hair slicked back with a case of helmet hair. It was long, reaching to his shoulders at this point. His hair was similar to hers, his ears coveted with those familiar piercings. It was him. It was Damon Aloidonys, her lost twin brother.

When he turned his head it was all confirmed. His icy blue eye turned towards them all. His face was just as cold, full of hate and suffering. Jaheira was right that he was grieving, and Angelina had no idea how far he'd been pushed to the edge.

"I didn't think I'd ever see you again," Damon said, calmly to them. "It's a shame—you shouldn't have come here."

She couldn't believe what she was seeing. That was his voice, that was him. But it wasn't him. This wasn't him.

"Why have you done this?" Lina asked, unable to hide the horror in her voice. "What happened to you? Was it Kevin?"

Jaheira was confused by the name—Damon had never mentioned a Kevin and most of the time he'd confided in her things that he wouldn't even confide in Gale.

"No," Damon replied simply. "Kevin is dead."

They stared at him in horror. His tone wasn't regretful, nor did it sound like he cared that he'd taken a life, no matter how vile. No, that was the voice of a man who killed him on a whim, not out of necessity.

"You know, I was tormented and controlled by that bastard for ten years—I endured it for you two," He gestured towards Caleb and Lina respectfully, turning his body around to face them all. "So I could protect you—so he didn't kill you for my mistakes." He let out a deep breath, his anger no longer yielding as he spoke of the warlock, Kevin. "But then I met Gale." His voice grew softer, a melancholic tone that hinted to Lina that her brother cared for this man. That was the man he was grieving.

Jaheira knew this well. She had seen how close they were at Last Light—how they looked at each other as they plotted against Ketheric Thorm, how his posture and expression brightened when he saw the wizard. It reminded her of how she was with Khalid, and how devastated she was when he died. This however, was far worse than what she felt—or, at least, something else was at play.

Damon continued his speech. "I pulled him out of a rock—got stuck after I crashed a nautiloid and it was a whole thing—we were infected with an illithid parasite. We all were—Shads, Astarion, Laezel, Wyll, Karlach... and Gale." Lina and Caleb could hear the pain in his voice as he spoke his name. The suffering he couldn't quite contain on his face. "He called himself Gale of Waterdeep; later I would know him as Gale Dekarios—I liked him more over the title of a chosen of Mystra."

He hissed out the name like an angry cat, the venom in his voice stung in their ears as Damon swung himself around, a roar from his mouth and a stomp of his foot caused the ground to rumble, rupturing the statue of the goddess of magic. It crumbled to the ground, her head smashing to pieces as he let out a seething breath.

"I fell in love with Gale Dekarios," Damon said, gripping the handles of his swords tightly. "He was funny, and silly, and taught me magic." He let out a soft chuckle, still seeping with sadness. "But he, too, made his mistakes—Gale's Folly, he called it—a netherese orb embedded itself into his chest, one that required magic items to quell its hunger so it wouldn't explode on us. I was convinced we could find a way to rid him of it—and in a way, we did."

"How?" Caleb asked this time.

"Oh, we're getting to that," Damon assured, his head turning back towards them. They could see a glint in his eyes—one that they'd only ever saw when he was about to speak of something he hated. "You see—at some point, before reaching out newest destination to get those tadpoles removed from our heads, a very famous and... dare I say it, annoying, wizard appeared—you may know of him, actually." He looked to Lina, pointing his sword at his sister.

"Who was it?" She asked cautiously.

Damon smiled. "Elminster Aumar," He chuckled. "You know, I thought he'd be far more imposing, but he stole all our cheese and brought the shittiest news I could ever here coming from a messenger of a goddess."

"And what did the fabled cheese-stealing wizard say, cub?" Jaheira asked, a twinge of worry in her voice as she spoke to the once gold-hearted hero.

"Mystra," He took a breath, the anger beginning to leak from the corners of his mouth. "Said Gale must use the orb to destroy the heart of the absolute—I convinced him not to do it when we reached Ketheric—you know as much Jaheira, you were there!" He gestures to the Harper casually, his expression losing all emotion. "He chose me that night, you know. He chose me." When he spoke the words, he was firm, banging the handle of his sword against his chest, the blade pointing downward.

"He chose me." Pain and anger combined as he spoke those last three words, his eyes welling with tears as he remembered that moment—the moment that brought them to the end.

It was clear now just how much Gale Dekarios meant to Damon. After his heartbreak with Kevin—a man who had love bombed him so hard that he got himself into a mess that lasted ten years away from them—he truly loved this wizard.

"I did so much to combat that vile bitch," Damon snapped. "He felt like the world would be better without him in it, and I told him otherwise—she wanted him to explode so he could be redeemed in her eyes—I convinced him not to do it and yet..."

"In the end, he exploded anyway," Jaheira finished for him. She could see the pain in his eyes as he spoke. She felt pity, empathy for him.

"What kind of god would ask such a thing?" Damon roared. "To—to command you to kill yourself just for redemption?"

"So you're killing her clergy?" Lina asked in disbelief.

"Precisely," Damon confirmed. His answer was readily given, so simply and decisive. "I am ridding her of her worship—very astute, dear sister."

Lina didn't know what to make of it. Her brother was... was kind, empathetic—he took an oath to protect people so that what happened to Summerhaven wouldn't happen to anyone else. He wasn't vengeful—not like this.

Something was clearly wrong—some other piece was at play.

"Are—" Lina stopped herself before she could continue. The fear in her voice could only slip out once she spoke, so she composed herself—took a deep breath. "—are you sure Kevin's not...making you do this?"

Damon sighed, loudly, stowing his blades. "Come on, now, Lina—I killed the bastard myself—he couldn't control me anymore if he tried," He muttered, an annoyed look on his face as he addressed his sister. When he saw the disbelief continue on her expression, he let out another sigh. "I can show you if you'd like?" He suggested.

Without a word he snapped his fingers, the undead husk of the man who had taken her brother away from her wobbled into the building. Lina and Caleb looked at it, horrified, turning back to Damon as if they couldn't believe their eyes. He'd really turned the rat bastard into a zombified servant.

"Damon what—" She couldn't find the words, covering her mouth. Sure, she hated Kevin for how he treated her brother, but to turn him into an undead...? That just wasn't him.

"You know, he's my favorite toy—considering how long he treated me like one," Damon said with a smile, grabbing the undead creature's jaw harshly with a snarl on his face.

"Damon—this isn't you," Lina protested, furrowing her brows.

There was silence for a moment, Damon staring at his sister with cold eyes—empty eyes. He let go of the zombie, turning his full attention to the three before him.

"It isn't," Damon agreed. "Because the Damon you knew is dead." His face was filled with rage. "He died when Gale exploded to destroy the netherbrain." They could still hear his pain—his suffering as he spoke it aloud.

"Damon, you are going down the same path as Ketheric," Jaheira warned, a hand on one of her scimitars. "You know where that ends."

"I know," Damon answered, looking to Jaheira. "And I understand now—oblivion will not save me, nor can I live without him."

"Where's the Crown, Damon?" Jaheira demanded, drawing her swords.

"Oh, you mean the Crown of Karsus?" Damon taunted, his hands now resting on the hilts of his two longswords.

"You swore you would keep it out of the hands of those who would abuse it," Jaheira snapped.

"I did," Damon admitted. "And I will."

"Then where is it?"

"It's none of your concern, Harper," Damon spat, drawing his twin blades swiftly.

"You're plotting something, aren't you?" Caleb accused, unable to hide his fear.

"If you try to intervene, I will make good use of your bodies after I kill you," Damon threatened.

The three were familiar with this tactic. He had gotten very good at intimidating his enemies. It often stopped fights from happening, sometimes so much that they groveled in fear. This time it did not feel like a tactic to make them leave, it felt like a promise.

While what was left of Damon Aloidonys and his flock of Undead went to leave, Caleb tried to get them both to run. Instead, all they could do was stand there as he left, staring down the Harper before completely leaving the town.

Lina, however, was still convinced her brother was in there somewhere. She just had to find it.

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medra-gonbites · 5 months ago

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The Contemplations and Conclusions of Minsc of Rashemen

A steam of consciousness wherein Minsc processes his arrival in the gang and reflects on his new (and old) companions and mission.

SFW - Stream of consciousness, Comedy

Word Count: 2173

Minsc let his eyes scurry around the room. They landed on Jaheira’s corner, next to his. The incense sticks were still fuming passively, fogging the area slightly with the musky scent of cedar.

“I am glad that Jaheira found us again. To think Minsc of Rashemen fell for the trick of a doppelganger! It should have been clear as soon as he saw none of Jaheira’s druidic wisdom behind the traitor’s eyes. Also the very much less wrinkles on the face… Minsc feels ashamed for having failed his Wychlaran!”

His furrowed brow scanned the rest of the room, before turning upside down.

“But, it is a relief that Jaheira met such a group of courageous companions too!”

Minsc pondered a moment. He had not been in their company for so long. In truth he did not know them at all yet, but he had already noticed a lot of things around camp, enough, he thought, to appreciate their respective characters.

Read the rest on AO3 or below the cut!

I have been writing relatively dark stuff recently and while it has been cathartic I wanted to try my hand at something a little bit happier!

Minsc is a hilarious and a very wise orator. He is extremely funny, and although he appears dumb because he uses the wrong words sometimes and fails to understand some nuances, his sentences all make perfect sense and his emotional intelligence is top notch, both when it comes to himself and when it comes to others.

I got inspired to do a stream of consciousness with Minsc (and Boo as a ghost conversationalist in a way), where he processes his arrival in the gang and reflects on his new (and old) companions.

image source: my screenshot

Minsc was sitting on the floor of the Elfsong Tavern, mindlessly tapping a rhythm on the stretched skin of the bongos pressed under his arm. After the madness of the last days the ranger was quite relieved to find himself alone; well, safe for Boo, tucked away in the collar of his shirt, napping against his collarbone.

His new companions knew of his need for respite and had gotten themselves busy today with errands and quests around the city. Shadowheart, Lae’zel, Gale and Astarion had gone to a mansion by the Upper City gate, investigating the paranormal activities reported there. Wyll, Karlach, Halsin and their leader Tav had gone to check a lead on the kidnapping of a little girl, suspecting the mischief of a hag. Jaheira had gone home to visit her children and tighten some loose ends with them, primarily to keep them safe and out of the city.

Minsc had remained at the Tavern, to reflect on his new entourage, his new mission and his new purpose. He was playing his bongo as he gathered his thoughts. The information was swirling in his head together with the illithid parasite. It was difficult to clear his mind, but he was not sure if this restlessness was caused by the intruder in his brain or simply the overload of news he had to compose with.

A sudden fatigue overtook him. He sighed deeply, resting his hand on the drums, halting the music. He felt Boo stirring by his neck. The rodent emerged with a squeal and climbed onto Minsc's shoulder.

“Ah Boo! I trust you had a good nap? Minsc is still very confused with everything that happened to us as of late. Care to join my contemplations. Maybe you can help make sense of all this?”

The small creature squeaked in response.

“Yes, it is a lot! Minsc cannot believe Minsc was the Stone Lord all along. If only somebody had told him.” Boo peeped in contestation, “You are right my friend; you did tell. Excuse Minsc for not listening.”

Minsc let his eyes scurry around the room. They landed on Jaheira’s corner, next to his. The incense sticks were still fuming passively, fogging the area slightly with the musky scent of cedar.

His furrowed brow scanned the rest of the room, before turning upside down.

“But, it is a relief that Jaheira met such a group of courageous companions too!”

His gaze went to Shadowheart’s bed, across from him. The sheets were neatly folded and the clothes on the duvet laid there, unwrinkled.

“What do you think of Shadowheart, Boo?”

The hamster creaked.

“I too wonder why her eyebrows are not the same colour as her hair… But nevermind her hairy condition, she seems a trustworthy cleric.” Boo scritched, “Ex-sharran, if I heard right.” Minsc corrected him, “I hope she takes care of Minsc when Minsc is injured. Kiss the booboos better”.

The rodent, displeased with the statement, nipped the shoulder of a blushing Minsc.

“Ouch! Not you, Boo!” Boo, squeaked in protestation, “No, no! Minsc wishes not to romance. Shadowheart is a fine lady, with very pretty eyes, but Minsc is betrothed to justice and the kicking of butts!”

Passing Shadowheart bed, Minsc caught sight of Wyll’s bunk. One of his rapier stood against the foot of the bed and his lounging outfit was emerging from under a pillow, shredded in place.

“The Blade of Frontiers! Brave man that Wyll, isn’t he Boo?” Boo gritted his teeth together in response, “That is true. I do not know why the flare for the theatrics and the naming. But people did call Minsc the Stone Lord for years it seems, so who is he to judge? I hope that Wyll can escape his patron’s wicked paperwork soon! Do you think his forehead would go back to normal?”

Minsc reached out to his own brow, touching the skin at the edge of his skull. As usual, it was smooth and hairless, keeping his head light and his vision unobstructed. Boosquawked at Minsc.

“Oh no, not at all! Minsc finds him dashing with the horns! Like a powerful ram, ready to charge into battle! But Minsc is concerned: It looks heavy on the boy’s head. Also a problem if he is ever in need of a hat… Maybe it is a problem Karlach has also.”

Minsc thought of the fiery tiefling barbarian for a moment and at the glowing red fire that swole in her chest when she felt anger rise within her.

“Fierce berserker, like us Boo! Karlach is one of the warmest warriors I have ever met and blessed with the biggest heart of them all.” Faced with his companions’ squeaking noise, Minsc clarifies, “Yes, Minsc knows she does not have a heart: I am doing a figure of the poetics: a superbole if you will. Let us hope that she finds a cure before it is all said and done. If she ever needs a heart, Minsc would gladly donate his”.

The giant lifted a hand and placed it to the right side of his chest. Boo raised his head towards the ranger, wiggling his nose at him.

“But you gave your liver to your dying cousin! Are you sure I cannot?” The nose wiggled once more, “Hm… Confusing how some organs you can give and some you cannot; Medicine is a strange science. Perhaps Gale could explain.”

Minsc winces at the idea, before waving it off dismissively. Last time he had attempted to have a conversation with the mage, he had found himself feeling simple and small, and neither feeling was representative of what Minsc was in reality.

“On second thoughts, Minsc is not keen on receiving another lecture. Do you know what he called Minsc yesterday, Boo?” The hamster let out an inquisitive screech, “A coverslut! Lies! Nobody is more virtuous than Minsc!” Boo squawked a reply, “Why, yes, Minsc was wearing a stained undershirt, but it’s no excuse to insult!”

Boo squealed louder, Minsc opened his eyes wide as if struck by an epiphany.

“Aaaah! Is that so! Well, I should apologize then… I made peace with the idea that the wizard and Minsc will always struggle to understand each other. Although his sadness is easy to get. He misses his goddess very much and cannot find his value without her. I too was once lost without Jaheira… Maybe we can convince one of your brothers to befriend Gale, so that he can find his value and trust in the eyes of a furry friend like Minsc did?”

Boo yipped in disagreement and Minsc raised a hand before him.

“Yes, he does already have a cat but… Alright, alright! I did not know you were in such quarrels with your family… The intricacies of hamster politics is lost on Minsc. But it reminds me of Lae’zel’s struggle with her people.” Boo let out a panicked screech, “Yes I compare; you two are more similar than you think! She is fierce, and bloodthirsty and eager for battle just like Boo is! Besides, she promised she would not eat you…”

Minsc hesitated a moment, wanting to ask something to his rodent companion but not daring to. He finally built up the courage to do so and with a cautionary tone he began.

“Say… Lae’zel also told that Boo did not look like any other giant space hamster she had seen and that… Maybe!.. You might be just a regular hamster. Is that true?”

Outraged by the question, Boo bit hard into the flesh of Minsc's neck.

“Aïyaaah!” the ranger screamed, bringing a hand to the bite to rub the pain away, “You have spent too much time with Astarion! I know you enjoy his panache, but Minsc can do without the teeth.”

As he massaged the area of the bite, Minsc was reminded of the puncture holes on the side of the vampire’s neck and of the scars he had seen on the vampire’s back when the latter had changed into his armor that very morning.

“To think of the horrors that he must have seen and borne. But he still smiles and laughs. Mostly when he is covered in bits and innards, but still. Minsc has respect for Astarion. Let’s pray he will make the right choice when he must… But I do not doubt that he will.”

Boo walked down Minsc's arm to lay in his open palm.

“Indeed my friend! I cannot wait to go kick this Cazador’s vampire butt!”

The Rachemi looks at his familiar with tenderness. Like most rangers, Minsc had a privileged relationship with his familiar, that went beyond those of a pet and his master. Boo was his friend, his mentor, his leader. He felt the same appreciation toward Tav, the alpha of this pack.

“Ah Boo! I think we can both agree that Tav is as mighty as their name is stupid! What great mind to be able to command fine heroes such as all of us.” Boo licked his paw which he wiped on his face, “Yes, that is true; they are a bit weird sometimes. Like when they stare in the void for hours. Or drop their gear on the floor. Or run in circles around camp - like the dog, hum.. Scratch?- to talk to everyone. That is odd. But aren’t we all?”

Minsc looked around him, to the cozy floor and comfortable bedding surrounding him.

“They sure do know how to talk their way into a soft bed. Not to forget the sting of their sword and the fly of their fist.”

What a heart-warming group of adventurers, Minsc thought. None braver, no one tougher, no one stronger than them. The ill-matched but mighty bunch they formed together in camaraderie and…

Boo let out a shrill shriek pulling Minsc back to reality.

“Who?” He asked, a puzzled expression bending the purple sphere on his forehead and eye.

Boo creaked.

“Halsin? Minsc does not recall anyone by this n…” Minsc trailed off, catching a glimpse of Halsin’s gear next to Jaheira’s, “Ah yes! The feeble elf who smells of mud.”

The ranger tried to shake the bitterness in his tone under the critical eye of Boo.

“Yes, well he is a druid. Of that we already have one, so that makes him rhododendron.” Boo’s glare was intense and Minsc felt urged to continue in a more praising manner, “But he seems like a gentle soul, and has been caring for the owlbear cub very well.”

Looking riveted at his hamster companion, Minsc could not help but feel hints of doubt and powerlessness tugged in his stomach. With fear in his eyes the gentle giant brought his hand to his face to level the creature with his eyes, and starring in the little black beads on the rodent’s face he inquired:

“Will you leave me for him, Boo?”

Boo jumped on Minsc's nose and climbed up to settle on top of his head. He squeaked triumphantly.

“Good! For a moment, Minsc was afraid you had found a stronger nature lover to adventure with!”

Boo flattened against the curve of Minsc’s skull. Laying on the smooth dome, the animal quickly dozed off into slumber. Reassured and relaxing, Minsc resumed his percussion on the drum. He found it easier to clear his head now, after organizing and voicing his thoughts.

The man was grateful to be allowed such times for introspection and meditation. It did him good to be able to form a bond with his new friends even without them present.

In the coming days they would descend into the Temple of Bhaal and face the horrors of Orin and her followers. It was not the first time he was confronted by a spawn of Bhaal. He hoped it would be his last though: but no matter the 3rd or 10th time. He would get rid of this evil one way or the other. He needed to trust his company. He needed to trust himself again.

After that it was the brain. After that it would be the Guild. After that there would be another evil to tame no doubt and innocent to protect once more. Regardless of when, Minsc was ready to be there.

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