#vajra safahr

[kirain]

I decided to make adult designs and "where are they now" stories for all the child tieflings who are confirmed to survive to Act 3.

Unbeknownst to her, Arabella was a latent sorcerer with a natural connection to the Weave. Her powers likely would've manifested at puberty, but touching the idol of Silvanus imbued her with wild druid magic, multiclassing her prematurely. This caused an internal struggle between the two powers, which threatened to rip her and anyone around her apart. Fortunately, with Withers' guidance, she set out to follow the Weave and found balance in her new, strange abilities. For years she traveled Faerûn alone, honing her skills and making peace with her past. Eventually, she became known as the "Wondering Storm", so attuned to nature some would mistake her for Silvanus' Chosen. Those who crossed her, however, would swear she was Jergal's Chosen; able to end a life with a single stare. Though not unkind, Arabella became feared by many for her stoic personality, mysterious presence, and peculiar command of the Weave. It seemed that wherever she was needed, she would inexplicably be.

Though Raphael went silent, Mol continued to enjoy, and perhaps abuse, the gifts from her patron. With the Absolute defeated, she quickly clawed her way up the ranks of the Guild, eventually becoming a pseudo ward to Nine-Fingers Keene. For years she would sharpen her skills, mentored by Keene and her most trusted associates, until she challenged the notorious crime lord to a duel for leadership. Much to her surprise, Keene lost, and was therefore forced to relinquish command to the young tiefling. Seeing the move as a betrayal, however, the Guild's loyalty was split, causing the criminal powerhouse to fracture. This led to a dark time for the Guild, with many in Baldur's Gate referring to it as the "Outlaw Civil War". Much blood was shed during this conflict, but eventually Mol turned the tides in her favour, running Keene and those still loyal to her out of the city. She would go on to rebuild the Guild in her image, successfully and more fearsome than ever; though, when she approached her old colleagues with an invitation to join, they all declined.

Once he managed to enter the city, Mattis tried to find his companions from the Grove, but he ultimately turned his sights to conning rich families with "panaceas from the hells". For a while, he flourished under this racket, until his scheme was exposed by jealous competition. This led to him being violently assaulted by angry customers, nearly ending his life—he only survived by rolling into a rapid canal. After being saved by a kind, impoverished couple who fished him out of the water, he spent nearly three months confined to a bed. His recovery was slow and agonizing, but hardly discouraging. Instead of succumbing to his misery, he took the time to plot his revenge. With the couple's help, he learned the laws of the land and revived his strength. Then, when able, he cut his hair, disguised his face, spied on the man who wronged him, and subsequently tricked him into signing his business over to the couple. Together, they turned the questionable business into something respectable. Mostly. Mattis' silver tongue finally became an asset, rather than a survival tactic, though he was never above a good swindle.

Ide and Umi took up arms during the Absolute's attack on the city, each of them basking in the action. Realising that Umi had developed an insatiable bloodlust, and itching for more battles herself, Ide suggested they enlist into the army. Though technically too young, the new General—appointed by High Duke Ravengard after the fall of the Absolute—accepted them as apprentices until they came of age.

Though their time with the Flaming Fist was imperative to their training and survival, they found the rules and hypocrisy of the troop disheartening, and even more so when the General died. Eventually they deserted, leaving Baldur's Gate entirely and starting a small band of vigilantes. To some, they were a menace. To others, they became heroes of the Sword Coast. No matter the case, Ide and Umi were inseparable, never seen apart.

Inspired by his saviours, Mirkon continued to write stories about his time in the Grove and his rescue from the harpies. He never found his parents, but he refused to live in the slum's orphanage. Life was hard for the young tiefling, often forcing him to grovel for food and coin. On the worst days, he found comfort turning his stories into songs, which he slowly morphed into a semi-profitable street act. This eventually caught the attention of Alfira, who one day happened to be passing by. Recognising his talent, and overjoyed to be reunited, she took him in and taught him how to play the violin. Together, they created a lucrative show that expanded well beyond the Elfsong Tavern, which aided Alfira in opening her dream college. She and Lakrissa would soon adopt Mirkon, and he would later become one of the most beloved and celebrated instructors at the college.

Though working as a hawker for the Baldur's Mouth kept Silfy fed and relatively sheltered, she grew listless. Dealing with rude and racist customers hardened her enough to snap back, resulting in her termination. With nowhere to go, she found herself wandering into Ramazith's Tower, where she implored Rolan for a job. Feeling for her plight, Rolan put her to work stocking shelves and filling orders. It wasn't exciting work, but she was safe and satisfied, until one day a customer's tome exploded, causing a flurry of rainbow flames that whirled into the shape of a unicorn. This event, though frightening, would inspire Silfy to start reading the books in the shop, with the help of Tolna and Rolan. To everyone's surprise, she proved to have an impressive aptitude for magic, and she soon found herself enthralled. Within just a few years, Silfy would be accepted into Blackstaff Academy, where she would excel in her studies and catch the eye of the great Vajra Safahr. She would offer Silfy a position in the school, as well as a mentorship, but Silfy would politely decline, graduate, and return to Bauldr's Gate. Her true home.

[snacobie]

Rereading blackstaff tower so I wanted to doodle some of the squad

[julsera]

The queen. My goal is to draw more waterdeep stuff, sketching more moments from our game.

Honestly Waterdeep feels like home now

[myut0eve]

DnD March 2

Day 6: Vajra Safahr

[powdermelonkeg]

Archwizard Gale lore???

Okay, SO! My personal headcanons for Gale's powers, both as archwizard and Chosen of Mystra, are based upon the following:

D&D makes a distinction between "archmage" and "archwizard," with the former being a spellcaster dedicated to the arcane arts and either: the counsel of royalty, a lich tyrant, or a reclusive hermit, all with multiple apprentices, and the latter being "an arcane spellcaster of extremely high power who successfully claimed a floating enclave," that specification coming from the time of Netheril.

Gale is NOT royal counsel, NOT pursuing lichdom, NOT a hermit (willingly), does NOT have apprentices when he first makes the claim, and does NOT have a floating enclave.

Despite these, he still claims "archwizard" as a title. This is significant, especially from Waterdeep, where the most powerful wizards in the world gather, including Laeral Silverhand (another of Mystra's Chosen, immortal to a degree, and Open Lord of Waterdeep) and Vajra Safahr (current Blackstaff and Archmage of Waterdeep).

Bonus points for his significance, he is Gale of Waterdeep. His personally chosen moniker marks him as outstanding among Waterdhavians. There might be a handful of people named Gale in Waterdeep, but there is only one Gale of Waterdeep. This is further backed up by Lorroakan recognizing him, with his only reason for Gale being lesser than someone who supposedly figured out immortality being that Gale was Mystra's discarded lapdog.

Gale is skilled in all manner of magic. This is confirmed directly in his epilogue, where you can question him about his choice teaching the School of Illusion, and he says that he wanted to teach ALL the classes there, but the staff told him no. That includes schools you wouldn't normally associate with him, like Divination and Necromancy.

Based on all of that, I've decided that "archwizard," as Gale means it, is a term referring to a wizard who's multiclassed into all their subclasses.

Does this make him overpowered? Yes. But he's an archwizard, prodigy, and Chosen, he's MEANT to be within the bounds of his own lore.

In addition, I also believe him to be an untrained Storm Sorcerer, based upon the following:

Sorcerers and wizards differ in that sorcerers know magic intrinsically, while wizards study it to use it.

When talking to Halsin as Origin Gale, you can tell him that as a baby, you summoned a whole pack of rabbits. Presumably, baby Gale was NOT reading and comprehending arcane textbooks.

Gale has an intrinsic understanding of the Weave, by his own admission, saying he could compose it rather than just control it. He was also casting third level spells like Fireball at eight years old.

Gale's theme is all about storms: his name is Gale, he occasionally says "A rough tempest I will raise" in combat, almost all his official art has him controlling lightning, and his robe is thunder purple. This continues into God!Gale's design, where he has literal glowing lightning bolts framing his eyes, and his outfit is lightning blue.

K'ha'ssji'trach'ash: On his own, the mephit is pretty self-contained; it's a magma mephit capable of revealing the true form of a True Ressurection scroll. However, the key to getting him to do this is to respond to the question "what is my name" in Ignan with the correct answer. After which, K'ha'ssji'trach'ash says "T'i n'uthrantha m'ahthra Gale." We don't know what this means, but it's clear that he's talking to us, about Gale, possibly thanking us or asking us to pass a message along. This implies that he doesn't speak Common, or else he would, because we answered correctly. Why do I bring this up? Storm Sorcerers have an innate ability called Wind Speaker, which allows them to speak Primordial (including Aquan, Auran, Ignan, and Terran). Thus, Gale can speak to/understand K'ha'ssji'trach'ash, despite his known/studied languages being Common, Celestial, Giant, and Draconic.

Because he's untrained, and rather than Storm Sorcery being just a Lv1 flavor bit that does little, I've decided that Gale has access to the class features of Storm Sorcery without access to its spell slots or Metamagic, that way it's reflective of his power without training.

With both of these conclusions, both archwizard and sorcerer, I've decided to pick and choose which class features are from which iteration of both classes, because BG3 and official D&D have a few key differences that were mostly changed for gameplay reasons. I've then taken those and added more flavor to them, based on the already-given flavor of D&D and effects of BG3, doing away with the mechanical side of things for storytelling reasons.

On top of this, because the maximum level you can reach in BG3 is Lv12, and we know that the Orb consumes "the greatest of [his] talents," I've decided that the Orb consumes any ability beyond Lv12 until its removal.

That being said, beyond whatever spells and slots you care to give him, the powers I think Gale has pre-tadpole are:

Abjuration

Arcane Ward: When Gale casts Abjuration spells, residual magic shields him from the worst of incoming hits

Projected Ward: Gale can extend Arcane Ward to someone nearby instead of himself

Improved Abjuration: On short rest, Gale can strengthen Arcane Ward to sustain itself beyond a single hit

Evocation

Sculpt Spells: Gale can control his Evocation spells and keep them from harming allies

Potent Cantrip: Gale can force enemies that resist his cantrips to take half damage from them anyways

Empowered Evocation: Gale's Evocation spells are particularly deadly (based on +INT modifier to damage rolls)

Necromancy

Grim Harvest: Gale can harness the power released when a spell kills a creature to heal himself, UNLESS it's undead or a construct

Undead Thralls: Animate Dead: Gale can reanimate a corpse

UT: Additional Undead: Gale can efficiently harness the power it would take to reanimate one corpse to reanimate two corpses with Animate Dead

UT: Better Summons: Gale's reanimated dead can take more of a beating than others' dead

Inured to Undeath: Gale's been exposed to necromancy enough that he's resistant to necrotic damage, and his life force capacity can't be reduced (this one in particular helps with the "Netherese bile" flowing through his veins)

Conjuration

Create Water: Gale can call forth rain at will (BG3's feature over D&D's to align more with storm sorcery)

Benign Transposition: Teleport: Gale can teleport up to 30ft, and can use that to swap places with an ally

Focused Conjuration: Gale's concentration on conjuration spells can't break due to pain

Enchantment

Hypnotic Gaze: So long as Gale holds eye contact with someone, he can charm them into stopping everything they're doing and staring at him in a daze

Instinctive Charm: Reflexively, Gale can make a split-second charm attempt to redirect an attack at someone directly nearby

Split Enchantment: Gale can efficiently harness the power it would take to enchant one person and instead enchant two targets at once

Divination

Portent: Gale can focus and gain split-second glimpses into the immediate future (such as the next blow about to be thrown in a fight)

Expert Divination: Casting divination comes naturally enough to Gale that he can cast divination spells using a lower spell slot

Third Eye: Gale can increase his powers of perception and gain a very limited Darkvision/Ethereal vision at will, as well as read any language

Illusion

Improved Minor Illusion: Gale can cast illusory effects with incredible ease

See Invisibility: Gale's experience with illusions lets him detect invisibility spells at work, focus on them, and see through them

Illusory Self: Gale can create an identical double of himself reflexively to confuse opponents

Transmutation

Experimental Alchemy: Using transmutation magic, Gale can more efficiently refine potion ingredients, occasionally enough to create a second potion

Transmuter's Stone: Gale can lock some of his transmutation magic into a stone, granting whoever holds it an effect of his choice from the following: Constitution proficiency, Darkvision, extra speed, resistance to acid/cold/fire/lightning/thunder damage

Shapechanger: Gale can polymorph himself once a day without consuming a spell slot (only into beasts with a CR of 1 or less)

Storm Sorcery

Wind Speaker: Gale can speak, read, and write Primordial (Aquan, Auran, Ignan, and Terran)

Tempestuous Magic: Gale can summon gusts of wind around him immediately after casting a spell greater than a cantrip. These winds are strong enough to propel him in flight for ten feet

Heart of the Storm: Gale has resistance to lightning and thunder damage. In addition, whenever he casts a spell that deals lightning or thunder damage, the magic that erupts is stormy and more powerful than other kinds of magic at equal level

Storm Guide: Gale can subtly control the weather around him, causing rain to stop falling in a 20 foot sphere centered on him, or wind to blow in a different direction in a 100 foot sphere centered on him

Feats

These are based on what I, personally, think make the most sense for him pre-tadpole:

Ability Increase: +2 to INT score

Elemental Adept: Thunder: Spells/attacks ignore resistance to thunder, and when a spell he casts causes thunder damage, it can't critically fail

Elemental Adept: Lightning: Spells/attacks ignore resistance to lightning, and when a spell he casts causes lightning damage, it can't critically fail

Okay, so Gale's crazy powerful, right? What could he have possibly lost that's greater than all this?

Well...

Abjuration: Spell Resistance: Gale was in tune enough with the Weave that he could resist spells (as well as gaining advantage on saving throws against them)

Evocation: Overchannel: Gale could deal maximum damage on a 1-5 level spell without ill effect on first cast, but suffered unresisted necrotic damage when using it again

Necromancy: Command Undead: Gale could bring undead made by other wizards under his control

Conjuration: Durable Summons: Gale could give anything he summoned a temporary shield against damage (30 temp HP)

Enchantment: Alter Memories: Gale could make someone unaware they were charmed by him, as well as make them forget something that happened during that charmed period

Divination: Greater Portent: Gale used to be able to predict more split second decisions ahead with ease

Illusion: Illusory Reality: Gale used to be able to pull shadow magic together into illusions and make them, temporarily, real. He can still do a limited version of this, but only via concentration to keep the threads together (hence the "anatomically correct" illusory wizard in the Drow twins scene; shadow magic is NOT the same as the Shadow Weave)

Transmutation: Master Transmuter: Gale could consume magic stored in his transmuter's stone in one go, using it to transmute one object into another, remove curses, diseases, and poisons, raise the dead, or reduce a creature's apparent age by up to 30 years

Storm Sorcery: Storm's Fury: Gale could react with lightning damage when struck physically Wind Soul: Gale was immune to lightning and thunder damage, could fly at a speed of 60 feet, and could reduce his flying speed to 30 feet for 1 hour to make four additional people fly

Yeah. Ouch. And that's not even including his former Chosen abilities.

Gale's Chosen abilities

Silver Fire: Gale could command pure energy of the Weave in the form of silver-white flame, which, at his command, could destroy anything in its path, banish dead magic areas, restore torn Weave, purge external magic and psionic effects from his own body, teleport without error to the last location he used the ability at, or cast spells without verbal, somatic, or material components

Mantle: Gale could cast the dangerous Mantle spell without suffering any ill effects, while other wizards casting the spell would suffer a drain of life force as long as it persisted

Weave Detection: Gale could detect magic's presence without the use of a spell

Weave Tapping: Gale could cast high level spells repeatedly without losing a spell slot, although this was discouraged by Mystra

On the page for Mystra's Chosen abilities, it says that sometimes her Chosen gained an immunity to magic, as well as disease and poison. I don't think Gale was so lucky, however; in the House of Healing, he mentions that he once turned himself in to a hospice in Waterdeep for a "bout of ruddy pox." Him having turned himself in implies he was an adult at the time, and should, therefore, already be Mystra's Chosen.

All that to say: behold, Gale of Waterdeep, in his original splendor. How the mighty have fallen.

[galedekarios]

How old is Gale, would you say? Everyone’s arguing about his age again, and frankly I’ve no idea. I’ve always assumed 30s at minimum based on his appearance/other factors, but there are people arguing for early 20s, which seems very surprising to me, especially taking his term at Blackstaff Academy into account (he was prior to Vajra Safahr's term, which started 13 years ago I think).

i think gale is in his late, late 30s at the very, very least, but personally i find it more likely he's in his early 40s.

i find it extremely unlikely he's in his 20s not only based on his appearance - the wrinkles and fine lines and greying hair - but also because of all his accomplishments prior to meeting him in the game that just would take years to achieve: he graduated from blackstaff academy, became an archwizard, he's an accomplished scholar, had his own apprentices/students, and so on.

sadly, larian has been very wishy-washy on their timelines regarding their own characters, while also not really adhering to wotc canon, so it's hard to make a precise claim.

[selunesdreams]

Somebody in the Hells Loves You

“Gale, I don’t mean to sound unappreciative, but what are you doing here? We haven’t spoken in years - we’re practically strangers-”

A bright white flash interrupted Florence, and she lifted her gaze to find a strange, tentacled ship tearing through the night sky.

“What in the hells?” Her body was frozen in terror. “Is that a-”

For once in his life, Gale was speechless, and as the ship rapidly approached, he cursed and grabbed Florence by the hand.

“Unless you want to see that thing from the inside, I suggest we run.”

Pairing: Gale x Named Tav/OFC

Summary: It’s been nearly a year since anyone has heard from Gale Dekarios. Once a promising mage, he now lives as a recluse, stripped of Mystra’s favor and cursed by netherese magic due to a well-intentioned but catastrophic mistake.

For Florence Ashveil, who left Blackstaff Academy years ago after circumstances thwarted her dreams of becoming one of the best and brightest wizards of her generation, the silence has been even longer. But when their paths cross again just as they are abducted by a Nautiloid ship, it seems they’ll have plenty of time to get reacquainted.

Rating: mature

Words: 3.8k

Tags: just-fucked-it-up-with-Mystra era Gale, slow burn, mutual pining, mysterious past, baggage, sexual/romantic tension Warnings: brief tangential mention of Astarion-related trauma, not graphic, viewed as flashback.

a/n: Welcome to my first Gale fic! The pipeline is real. This story is still developing, so I'm not sure how the rating/tags will be impacted. It's reasonable to expect some eventual smut. Sorry if you were waiting on the next installment of Forms of Imprisonment, I got distracted by this one but promise it’s coming soon!

There were countless times in Florence Ashveil’s thirty years of life when she complained she “ was in the Hells .” Secondary school, family reunions, her first breakup - her mother had chastised her on each occasion, explaining ad nauseam how everyone endures such things, that they don’t equate to suffering a place like Avernus. Once, during exams week, her second year at the Academy, she wrote the phrase in a letter home and received a pigeon from Cora Ashveil the next day.

“I pray you never truly experience the hells, Flossie, because I fear your poor tolerance for distress would set you up poorly for surviving them.”

If only her mother could see her now.

*Hours Earlier*

Florence perused the offerings of the crowded Waterdeep Market alone, following her usual Tenthday ritual. Hundreds of stalls and camped vendors shouted at passing visitors, vying for their gold. A few called out to her with flirtatious compliments, encouraging her to come closer or try a free sample, and she shook her head with a terse smile, keeping wary of thieves. Her fingers touched her coin purse several times to confirm it was still there. She stopped at her usual booth, inspecting produce with a frown as she tried to ignore the never ending voices screeching in her mind.

Check for worms, maggots - what if they’re infested with maggots and you don’t see-

Relief came as distraction - an ostentatious, familiar voice, chatting with a nearby vendor, as if incapable of stopping.

“Did you know the skin of a kiwi is just as edible as the rest of it? I had a friend from Snowdown as a child, his family had vines upon vines of the things growing-”

Gale Dekarios.

It had been roughly a year since the public had seen him, and even longer for Florence. The last time they were in the same room, he’d given her a wistful look as she carried her belongings out of the Academy, books tucked under one arm, her bag slung over the opposite shoulder. She’d kept her eyes downcast, and shuffled out the door as her mentor, Vajra Safahr, solemnly escorted her out. Gale had opened his mouth, as if wanting to say something, but quickly closed it and disappeared down the hall. Florence somehow found the idea of him pitying her more mortifying than the whispers as she left Blackstaff Academy for good.

So when she’d heard he’d become a recluse after an erroneous act of devotion to gain Mystra’s approval, she’d wondered if it had felt the same to him as it did her - to lose your chance at greatness because your weakness got in the way. There had been rumors he and the goddess were involved in romantically, beyond the magic and mentorship. The news hadn’t shocked Florence. Gale Dekarios, a man of massive talent with the Art, was also not difficult to look at.

And Mystra was…Mystra.

“Florence, is that you?”

He squinted in her direction right as she attempted to duck behind a fruit crate and clumsily, she dropped the cabbage she had been examining into the dirt.

“Shit.”

She stooped to grab it just as Gale’s fingers reached it, and he held it out in his palm, like some sort of offering.

Contaminated, filthy, don’t touch it, throw it away, throw it away-

“Gale! I-”

“Apologies, I didn’t mean to frighten-”

“-such an idiot, head’s always somewhere else these days-”

They both fell silent, realizing they’d been nervously chattering over one another, and Gale placed his hand on her arm with a soft chuckle. The gesture was tender, unassuming, and a wave of warmth spread through her body in response. No one had touched her in years, save the occasional side-hug from her mother.

“It’s good to see you.” He said earnestly, with a thin-lipped smile as he stood from his crouch beside her. She caught something in his gaze, akin to pity, as he assessed her, and she felt sick.

“Likewise, I…how have you been?” She passed the produce vendor a few coins with an apology and awkwardly carried the cabbage as they stepped to a nearby wall to move away from the busy path.

“I spent most of the last year in my tower, essentially a hermit. Gets rather lonely, but I do at least have-“ he stopped himself and cleared his throat. “Apologies, I’ve…not spoken to anyone but my Tressym in quite some time.”

“I had heard, are you…well?”

“Yes, yes, everyone’s familiar with the rumors.” He waved dismissively, and a shadow crossed his features. “But how are you , Florence? Surely up to something magnificent. As I recall, you were talented with the Art, much more so than our peers…”

“Oh, I…I’m actually…” she released a long breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, “I have nothing impressive to report, honestly. I work at St. Laupsenn as a potions artificer.”

“St. Laupsenn, truly? I spent a little time convalescing there with a nasty case of ruddy pox. For all their kindness, leaving that place was a relief like no other…” He trailed off. “Surely there are other notable things happening in your life? Extracurriculars? Don’t tell me you’re wasting your talent brewing healing potions for a living…”

“I…have a shift at the Hanging Lantern a few nights every ten-day.”

As the words fell from her lips, Florence realized she’d just told him she moonlighted at one of the most notorious Festhalls in Waterdeep with no further context. She watched his face reveal all his thoughts as he processed what she’d said.

He blushed. “The Hanging Lantern? Ah - not what I’d expected, but I’m sure you - do you…?”

“Oh! Oh no, I hardly have the looks for that-“ she forced a laugh to displace her discomfort, “I play piano. Set the ambiance, you know, so they can do all the hard work.”

She swallowed and glanced over her shoulder.

“Of course! How could I forget! You always had a beautiful way with music, invariably working your craft into how you wielded magic. Truly creative, poetic, even…”

Florence had appreciated his verbosity, and never quite succumbed to the bitter jealousy her classmates had towards Gale. Perhaps he stumbled over words or bragged a bit too much, but at his core, he meant well. She believed that sincerely. However, as she stood in the middle of the market, she wished she was anywhere else as she made small talk with the renowned wizard.

“I ah…I apologize, Gale. You caught me at an inopportune moment. I have actually somewhere to be, but it was lovely catching up with you.” She placed a delicate touch on his forearm. “Perhaps we’ll cross paths again soon?”

“Yes, yes, I hope we do. Don’t let me keep you. It was a pleasure speaking with you.”

If he tried to conceal his disappointment, he did a poor job of it. Gods, he must have been so lonely this past year. She nodded politely and, as she change direction to leave, his smile faltered. She’d gotten several steps away before she heard him clear his throat and call after her.

“Florence?”

“Yes?” She turned, her mind focused on the produce still in her hands. Invisible dirt and grime on her fingers preoccupied her every thought. She yearned to toss it in the nearest bin as fast as she could and scrub underneath her nails until they bled.

“I…for what it’s worth, if you wanted to, I think you have the looks for anything. I’m sure you look lovely at that piano every night.”

She blinked at him as he turned and walked away without another word. Behind her, a rothé reached over the wooden fence of its pen and nibbled at her hand. She stepped away, startled.

“Here,” she said, extending the cabbage to it, “it’s all yours.”

The rothé accepted her offering and dropped it to the earth, grazing at it with appreciation. Florence wiped her hands on the waist of her trousers several times and walked home with an empty market basket and the makings of a headache.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

He was in the crowd.

Gods-be-fucking-damned he was in the crowd. She should have never told him where she worked.

Florence set her sheet music on the piano, despite her lack of need for it. She’d memorized everything, but it gave her something to focus on, particularly on nights like tonight when she was prone to distraction. Typically, an over-familiar gentleman would question her about her personal life, or a fight would break out at the bar. Tonight, Gale Dekarios beamed at her and waved cordially from a booth.

Hells.

Surprisingly, the night progressed without incident, and she eventually forgot he was there. Once she’d packed her things into her bag and walked out onto the dimly lit street, Gale was leaning against the side of the tavern, arms crossed in front of him.

“Excellent musicianship.” He complimented her and pushed off the wall. “Apologies if my attendance was disruptive, it’s…been a while since I’ve been out or seen an old friend.”

Friend? She thought to herself. How loosely did this man define friendship? To seek her company. How lonely must he have been?

“Thanks…I rarely have people stop by to listen to me play. I’m more…background noise.”

“I did have to, rather awkwardly, explain my business there when I wasn’t interested in paying for…companionship, but it’s always good to get away from typical comforts…”

She stopped walking and turned to him.

“Gale, I don’t mean to sound unappreciative, but what are you doing here? We haven’t spoken in years - we’re practically strangers and-”

A bright white flash interrupted Florence, and she lifted her gaze to find a strange, tentacled ship tearing through the night sky. People screamed around them and the streets flooded with chaos as bodies collided with one another, stampeding towards hope of escape.

“What in the hells?” Her body was frozen in terror. “Is that a-“

For once in his life, Gale seemed speechless, and as the ship rapidly approached, he cursed and grabbed Florence by the hand.

“Unless you want to see that thing from the inside, I suggest we run.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The tadpole wriggled in her brain like a slithering migraine while her breath fogged the glass of her containment pod. As she returned to consciousness, she kicked and slammed her fists against the window, desperately trying to break out.

A sphincter shaped gate opened across the room, splayed apart in a disturbing manner. Through the fogged window, she glimpsed a githyanki searching the room, trailed by a dark-haired woman with unfortunate bangs and…

Him.

“Help! Get me out! Please!”

Florence prayed her cries would make it through the thick walls of the pod, and to her relief, Gale’s head snapped towards her and he rushed over, investigating the exterior for any indications of weakness.

“There you are! Hold on!” He pressed a hand to the glass to reassure her, and she touched it from the other side.

He’d been looking for her.

Muffled by her vessel of containment, she heard the gith arguing with him, insisting they leave her to die. When he refused, the gith left on her own, and Florence couldn’t blame her. They were wasting valuable time.

She watched him run back and forth across the ship several times before he made any progress, the dark-haired woman lingering near the door until he returned to the pod with a triumphant grin and a strange rune. He inserted it into a nearby console and the seal broke and hissed. A mist rose around her before she was ejected onto her hands and knees, and she struggled to catch her breath, body convulsing as she vomited. Gale rushed to her side, dropping to his knees, and rested his hand on her shoulder with a grimace as she retched.

“Never thought I’d get you out of there.”

“Thanks for saving me.” She panted and wiped her mouth with the back of her arm.

“There will be time to debrief later. The ship’s crashing and if we delay any longer, we’re dead!” Shadowheart yanked Florence from the floor and shoved her towards Gale. He held an arm around her shoulders to steady her.

With a cough, Florence nodded in agreement. “Lead the way.”

They followed the woman through vesseled passageways, using Gale as a support until she got her bearings.

“I see you made friends.” She said as they dodged smoldering piles of ash and carrion as dragons soared dangerously close to the sides of the vessel, screeching and roaring as they set fire to the ship.

“That’s Shadowheart. I found her trapped in a pod, like you.”

“Enough dawdling! We are wasting time.” The githyanki shouted as they met her at the ship’s helm.

“And that’s Lae’zel.” He murmured.

Blocking their path, a Mindflayer fought a large cambion in, and Florence clutched her head as his voice echoed inside of her brain.

“Get to the helm, I’ll hold them back.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” Gale said and drew an arcane gate for the four of them. He gripped Florence around the waist and pulled her through, letting go once they stepped through the portal, and began fumbling with the controls. As he did so, a brain with legs and claws scrambled up and stopped at Gale’s feet.

Florence’s eyes widened in alarm, and she instinctively took a step back. “What is that?!” she shrieked.

Gale, his attention still fixed on the console, replied, “I... don’t rightly know, but it seems to be on our side.” He paused for a moment, his brow furrowing. “It called itself Kitty at one point, but I pulled it out of a human skull, so I’m not sure if that’s a comfort.”

“Gods, I’m going to faint.”

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t.” Gale responded, and with a final flick of a switch, the console hummed to life, stopping the vessel dead in the air.

“Ha!” He said triumphantly, “See? Everything will be just-“

Suddenly, the ship jolted, emitting a loud creak, and darkness consumed all light in view.

“K’chakhi!” Lae’zel pushed Gale out of the way and studied the console. “You’ve cut the power. We’ll crash!”

“Brace yourselves!” Shadowheart warned. Florence searched for something to hold on to, but when the Nautiloid careened to the side, she slipped through the air with no hope of saving herself. Panic gripped her as she plummeted towards her certain death, the others falling just a few feet above her.

“Take my hand!” Gale’s voice cut through the chaos, grasping for her as they free fell. “There’s a transportation sigil on that rock below. I’ll try to get us there-”

His strained fingertips grazed her skin, and he seized her by the wrist. Midair. He seized her by the wrist and pulled her against him, transporting them from the sky to the arcane sigil. Suspended in time and space, Florence’s panic grew. Gale held her close enough that she could smell the cologne that lingered on his neck. An earthy, spicy blend of cedar, sage, and ginger. Just underneath his shirt, she caught a faint glow. Some sort of magically infused tattoo?

“My magic is…diminished, of late.” He confessed over the dull roar of the void. The sporadic swirls of light inside the sigil illuminated his grim expression. “I can only get one of us out. Find me and-”

She hit the solid ground with a thud before he even finished speaking, and the force knocked the wind from her lungs. Blinded by the sun, Florence squinted and threw a hand in front of her face, looking out at the vast body of water shimmering ahead of her. Time passed differently in magical planes, and it seemed hours had elapsed in the seconds the sigil had trapped them. Fortunately, Gale had transported her to this beach, and not an entirely different dimension.

She pushed herself up from the ground and clapped away the sand sticking to her palms. When she turned, she found the Nautiloid wrecked behind her. From the state of it, survivors were unlikely. She kept vigilant as she moved through the rubble, scanning her surroundings for any signs of Gale.

“I saw you. You were on that ship. You’re one of them.”

A pale, ruby-eyed elf with white hair darted into her path and drew his dagger. She raised her palms in a peaceful gesture.

“I fell from the Nautiloid, abducted, just like you.”

“Do you take me for a fool? You teleported!”

“I don’t have time for this,” Florence grumbled. She pushed past him and stormed up the beach and into the wreckage.

“Wait! Where are you going?” He shouted, too stunned to react.

Ignoring his protests, she wandered through the smouldering remains of the ship until a familiar, whooshing sound of a portal caught her attention. Florence exhaled with relief at the sight of Gale’s arm sticking out of the swirling violet hole.

“A hand? Anyone?”

Without hesitation, she grabbed his arm and pulled with all her strength until the portal spat him out. She fell backwards, and he landed on top of her, inadvertently pinning her down.

“Are you alright?” Concern etched his face as he stared down at her. “I hope I didn’t send you too far...”

“I’m fine, but Gale, what-“ Florence began, her words interrupted by a voice from behind.

“My, my. Seems you found your missing friend.” The elf from the beach was leaning against a nearby boulder, hand still on the hilt of his dagger. A clear warning.

“Ah, I didn’t realize we had company.” With an apology, he scrambled off of Florence and helped her to her feet before turning to the elf.

“I take it you too were the victim of a rather unpleasant ocular insertion?” Gale tapped his temple and brushed himself off, extending a hand. “I’m Gale, of Waterdeep-”

“I suggest you stow that hand if you’d prefer to keep it, wizard.”

“Lovely friend you’ve made already, Florence.” Gale mumbled and shoved his hands in his trouser pockets as he bowed his head to Astarion. “I’d advise you to stow that blade or I’ll have to- ack!”

A sharp, searing pain erupted between Florence’s temples. The world seemed to spin as visions, not her own, flashed before her.

You sat cross-legged in a tavern with a hand atop a young patriar’s, sharing a bottle of wine. His other hand touched your knee, and you kissed him, but your chest caved in with repulsion. You insisted he blow the candles out when you reached his room, and eyes open in the dark, you focused on one spot of light, cast from the window, until it was all over -

The vision stuttered and slipped away, fading into…

Darkness. Never ending darkness. Violet-black of the shadow weave swirling as the mark on your chest throbbed harder than your aching heart. You almost had everything, and you gave it all up to impress her. You failed, never good enough. She’ll never forgive you. She doesn’t want you. Nobody could want you, not if they knew-

Florence held her arms out, grasping for anything to anchor herself as another vision flooded her senses like a crashing wave. Her fingertips brushed against the coarse surface of the boulder, and she leaned on it for support as a surge of alien memories invaded her mind.

Swiftly maneuvering through the streets of Baldur’s Gate, you ran for your life, but it was too-

A thunderous crack suddenly filled her head, causing her to lose her balance and fall on all fours.

The woman at the piano was someone you thought you could have fallen for, once. Her chestnut hair fell across her face as she played, the soft curve of her half-elvish ears peeking through thick waves as her bottom lip jutted out. You recognized that look, the focus in it. Such talent, such promise. What terrible thing befell her? Why did she leave the Academy? You never got a goodbye, but perhaps it was foolish to expect one. But you approached her at the market because she was like a beacon of hope. Something familiar from your past that you wished you’d paid more attention to rather than-

“Ugh!”

As Florence regained consciousness, she blinked furiously to ease the pulsating burn in her head. Her tadpole seemed to wriggle with recognition, then settled, seemingly sated. She spared a glance in Gale’s direction. Sweat trickled down his forehead, his hand pressed tightly against his heart with a pained expression, as he avoided meeting anyone’s gaze.

“What in the hells what that?” The elf demanded.

“I think we were in each other’s heads…” she groaned.

“Well, it seems you were telling the truth, after all.” With an apologetic smile, he sheathed his blade and wiped his hands on his belt.

“Let’s start over. I’m Astarion.”

“Pleasure.” Gale responded sarcastically and stood with a grunt. Strategically, almost possessively, positioned between Florence and Astarion, he supported her as she rose from the ground, not turning his back to their new acquaintance. Once more, the peculiar tattoo caught her attention, visible beneath his shirt collar. It no longer glowed, but in the light she could see that it subtly connected to the crinkle of his eye, as if magic tunneled through the capillaries under his skin.

“Likewise.” Astarion said. “So, do you have any idea what these…things are in our heads?”

“Tadpoles.” Gale said, “It appears our minds are linked. Unless you know a healer, in a few days’ time, we’ll undergo ceremorphosis and become mindflayers.”

“Mindflayers? Ha… ha!” The elf cackled, “of course we will.”

“We should stick together until we find someone who can extract them. There were others on the ship. I’d like to see if they survived the crash as well.”

“The more the merrier.” Astarion’s demeanor was suspiciously cheerful, a stark contrast to their earlier interaction. Florence had worked in a Festhall for three years, she could easily spot a charlatan. But rather than press the issue, she chose instead to concentrate on surviving the night without becoming illithid.

They found Shadowheart unconscious on the beach as they wandered the debris in search of supplies. Procuring bedrolls, some abandoned packs from fishing posts nearby, and a few dinner rations, Gale suggested they regroup and rest until morning.

“Out here? In the wilds?” Florence picked at the skin around her thumb and glanced towards the burning ship behind them.

“Presumably, there won’t be a tavern for miles. I think we’re roughing it.” Gale’s expression seemed genuinely sympathetic, which came as a relief, because she felt quite high maintenance complaining under the circumstances.

Astarion edged closer to her, “Don’t worry, darling, I’ll keep you safe,” and she swore she caught a disapproving scowl on Gale’s face before he retreated to the edge of camp, explaining, with some urgency, that he needed to get a sending spell to someone in Waterdeep to check on his Tressym.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment/feedback/constructive criticism (this is not peer read) and a kudos on AO3 if you enjoyed (or feel free to hate-kudos it, I won't mind.)

If you'd like, you can connect with me here on Tumblr or check out my Astarion fic (that features Gale), Forms of Imprisonment!

[victo1re]

I think we've talked about it privately, but I want to hear how vic teaches post canon? How is she with students? Is she strict on grading/deadlines, or does she let students make up work? How does she structure her classroom (is it lecture based or more hands-on)? Do students tend to like her, or is she one of those respected and feared teachers?

bless u for asking this. for clarity i'm still calling her vic here, but that's not the name she's going by in-character, just so we're all clear on that front. vic is the sort of professor whose classes have a reputation for being both incredibly engaging and highly difficult. she does not pull her punches; she respects her students far too much for that, and tells them so. the rapport she establishes in her classroom is one of mutual respect, maturity, and, she likes to think, fun -- she reads tarot for her students on the first day of most divination courses, for example. she is strict in the sense that she is upfront about her expectations and, if they are not met, she will not grant second chances unless it's for a very good reason. wizardry is a highly dangerous and exacting discipline -- precision and intention are key. her enchantment students tend to come away with more of that impression of her as the unrelenting taskmaster than her divination students do. to that point, her enchantment courses are lecture-based almost exclusively. she teaches theory, not practical application. there is no practical application for the vast majority of enchantment magic that any blackstaff student should be attempting. rather, the utility in learning these concepts is in learning to recognise and counter them. (she did not want to teach this at all. vajra safahr personally convinced her to take up a section or two over long months.) her divination courses, in contrast, are very hands on. channeling portent through any number of focusses, separating the body from the mind in a fashion conducive to scrying, astral projection, etc. -- the very best way to learn spellcraft is by casting, after all.

[anathriveline]

Dans les bas-fonds d'Eauprofonde - Donjons et Dragons Matt Forbeck Livre audio interactif, Lunii, 2024

Jeune reporter en quête d’histoires fabuleuses à dévoiler au grand public, tu as peut-être été un peu loin cette fois… Et ta rédactrice en chef te le fait savoir : 10 jours de mise à pied ! Voilà une journée qui aurait pu mieux commencer… Mais alors que tu ranges ton bureau, tu entends courir une nouvelle rumeur… Un nouveau scoop ? Comme tu n’as rien d’autre à faire, tu te mets en quête d’indices dans la bonne ville d’Eauprofonde. Mais une scène sordide t’arrête dans ton élan : deux agents du Guet maltraitent une jeune fille, en pleine rue ! Que faire ? Seras-tu hors la loi aux côtés du Zhentarim, ou préfères-tu aller enquêter pour le compte des Griseforces dans la cité pirate de Port-Crâne ? Ce qui est sûr, c’est qu’une aventure sans précédent t’attend ! Aux côtés des mercenaires les plus impitoyables d’Eauprofonde ou au nom de la Justice et du Bien sous les ordres de la grande magicienne Vajra Safahr, tu devras crocheter des serrures, affronter des monstres inquiétants, et mettre tes talents de journaliste au service de la vérité !

[lettiecassie]

No but this is so funny because Elminster wasn't the Blackstaff he was the Warden of Waterdeep at the time of BG3, the Blackstaff was Vajra Safhar the youngest to hold the position and was the lover of the previous Blackstaff, Samark Dhanzscul, and has a lot of doubts about being inexperienced, especially compared to Elminster and the Open Lord of Waterdeep Laerel Silverhand (who is over 800 years old) which parallels Gale's story so well BUT ALSO she's more powerful than Gale and the Blackstaff is sentient cause its filled with the souls of every past Blackstaff.

The only possible way that Gale of Waterdeep stole the Blackstaff is because Vajra Safahr wanted to annoy Elminster, and the personality of Khelben Arunsun, the creator of the Blackstaff and its dominant spirit, agrees.

Teen Gale stealing the blackstaff right under the nose of Elminster (with the complicity of Tara)

I was inspired by the amazing @lowrifaberart and their young version of Gale :)

[colorninclothes]

Vajra Safahr | Forgotten Realms Wiki | Fandom

[writersstareoutwindows]

I am haunted by the story that Vajra Safahr deserves, but I am not the person to write it. A young, Black, immigrant woman suddenly becomes the youngest Blackstaff ever. She’s under the scrutiny of the nobility, who see her as an upstart, and Waterdeep citizens, who see her as an outsider. She’s trapped in the world’s most awkward working relationship with Open Lord Laeral Silverhand, whose husband’s soul inhabits the Blackstaff. Laeral is also a centuries-old demigod witch queen who treats Vajra like an insecure child (a phrase pulled directly from the Dragon Heist book), exacerbated by the implicit threat in the fact that Laeral has the power to strip her of her title. Rivals spread rumors that Vajra only got the title because she was the last Blackstaff’s lover (this is a lie concocted to undermine her; Forgotten Realms canon can bite me. On a completely unrelated note, Vajra is a lesbian). Vajra herself is terrified, overwhelmed, and horrifically lonely. She fights with all her strength just to stay above water, but people keep raising the waterline around her. She keeps a calm facade, reminding any challenger that the Blackstaff itself chooses the one most worthy to wield it, but she herself doesn’t know why it chose her.

The plot that I imagine is, during an inciting fight that establishes a threat to Waterdeep, the Blackstaff is destroyed. Vajra returns from the fray clutching a single fragment, with the original Blackstaff soul (Laeral’s husband) lodged inside. Blaming Vajra for the loss, Laeral takes the fragment and strips her title. Vajra is left with nothing but grief, failure, and rage...until sometime thereafter, the last fragment reappears in her hands.

The Blackstaff chose her. No one can take that away from her. There is a great evil bearing down on Waterdeep, this city she has chosen as home, and Vajra Safahr is going to recover the lost fragments of her staff and put an end to it. And nobody, no jeering noble nor skeptical citizen nor patronizing witch queen, is going to stop her.

[white-weasel]

Liking an npc from a dnd module is so wild because other people from other games might also like them, but you all have such different versions of them due to how your dm plays them that they could very well be completely different characters

[koifrog]

Vajra Safahr has laser vision btw if that makes anyone more interested in reading it

My partner and I read Blackstaff Tower about a month ago and I’m shocked that apparently (judging by tags) no one else on this site has

[danedear]

one of my DMs during our Dragon Heist bit of the campaign. her husband thought she'd enjoy being more of an omnipresent being 🌌 with gazers, an intellect devourer, a nimblewright & Vajra Safahr, the current Blackstaff of Waterdeep & our haunted abode Trollskull Manor.

i had a lot more fun working on this than expected