#which is that it's her being found dead with durge next to her

[chronurgy]

Durgin birth? 👀

She had the dream again last night. It’s the same dream she’d been having for months now. She’s lost in a dark place, mist clinging so thickly to the ground she cannot see the floor she’s standing on, nor more than five feet in front of her face. She wanders through the clinging mist, each new step met with a thick, sick squelch. She continues in this way for a some small while, the shluck, shluck, shluck of her footsteps her only companion until she realizes it is no longer so. Until she realizes that she is not alone, here in this ill-defined place. There is another figure in the mist, skittering at the edges of her vision. And it’s getting closer. Closer and closer it moves, this shadowy figure, rushing and circling and darting to and fro, but closer, closer, always closer. Finally, it moves close enough for her to see it, just enough for her to decide that it is more or less human, and open her mouth to call out to it, ask what it’s doing here and where here even is, before it looks up at her and she is confronted with its empty black eyes. Then she screams and wakes, as she has done every night that she has dreamt this particular dream. She has never seen more of the figure in the mist beyond the featureless eyes, never even gotten a glimpse of what it is that lurks out there on the edges of her sleeping mind.

This one is a horror story. We've all wondered and speculated about how exactly durge was born into this world, where they came from. This was going to be one answer to that. Basically, the idea was that bhaal would implant the seed of durge into a human host and use them to germinate that seed. And this is what she goes through. I wrote the whole outline for it and only then realized it was kinda about the horrors of pregnancy and the way women are treated during it which probably should have been obvious from the get go. Other inspirations include: how fetal hemoglobin works, mineral depletion during pregnancy, and shark pregnancy.

[whatusername00]

Which Baldur's Gate Characters Know How To Lace Up Their Clothing - Camp Edition

I got this idea because I noticed Gortash's shirt isn't laced properly, and then noticed Astarion's shirt isn't laced properly, so now I need to look at as many characters as I can because I can't stop noticing. And I'm about to spend too much time on this for it to stay in my brain. Starting with all characters who appear at camp (main party + others.)

Shadowheart, Lae'zel, Gale, Withers, Aylin, Mizora, Duke Ravenguard, Emmaline, and Arnell don't have lacing on their camp outfits.

Starting with the default clothes for Tav. Yes, they know how to lace their shirt. Good job. This particular Tav is Durge, so it's good to know he didn't forget how when his brain got Swiss'd. However, it's not perfectly consistent because on the bottom 2 sets of eyelets he threads from the outside, but the third set he threads from the inside. Though this is probably intentional so the lacing doesn't hang on the inside of his shirt, so 9/10.

Astarion, baby boy, you were so close. But unfortunately there are two pairs of eyelets where he threads one side from the outside and one from the inside. For someone who wants to appear so put together, you think he could take the two extra braincells to lace his shirt consistently. 7/10.

Threaded consistently the whole way through...with one side. Why didn't you finish lacing your shirt? Why even lace one side if you weren't going to lace the other? Why isn't the lacing that you didn't finish shorter than the one that you did finish? All questions I can't answer because I cannot ask. 7/10 at least it's consistent.

I couldn't get a good in game screenshot of Karlach since her lacing is on her pants, but I found a texture rip so I can work with it. So the lacing here is the same all the way through, super consistent, *mwah*, but...it's sneakily unnecessarily complicated. Typically, the lacing that laces from the inside to outside would sit on top, but it's not that way on her pants. She pulls the lacing through the eyelet, then threads it under the other part of the cross, then threads it through the top of the next eyelet. And with as much lacing as her pants have, this must have taken forever for no extra benefit. It would have been easier to let it sit on top. 8/10 its pretty though.

Halsin. Beautiful. Gorgeous. I choose to believe the knots are hidden on the inside. No other notes. 10/10.

I've never actually recruited Minthara so I took a picture from the BG3 wiki. Just like Halsin, beautiful. Again, I choose to believe the ends are hidden on the inside. 10/10.

Jaheira's pants lace the same way Halsin's shirt does: perfectly. Though if the knot is hidden on the inside, I feel like that would be more uncomfortable, so I'm gonna headcannon that it ties at her waist under her shirt. Other than that, 10/10.

Minsc's shirt uses the same model as Wyll's so everything I said there applies here, though I feel like it makes more sense for Minsc. My real gripe here is that Minsc is a liar. Talking 'bout some thrice laced pants, but I didn't see any lacing on those pants. How dare he trick me in this way. 6/10 I don't like being lied to.

Yenna's mom may be dead, but she made sure her baby knew how to lace her shirt before she did. She may have gotten kidnapped by Orin, but she looked put together while doing it. Perfect 10/10. She deserves it after what she went through.

After being dead for 100 years, Isobel didn't forget how to lace her armor. Gotta be put together to see her girlfriend again. 10/10 Isobel can do no wrong.

Volo...I don't know what you've done to the front of your pants but it doesn't look good. Some of those crosses are missing. It looks sloppy. What is this. This is something I would do as a joke to see if anyone noticed. Well I noticed and I hate it. 2/10 it keeps your pants closed I guess.

That's it for the camp. I'll link other sets of characters below as I do them.

Tieflings

[jessiemeows]

Lost & Found

Chapter 2: Companionship and Sunsets

A/N: Hello! I wanted to say the first 2-3 chapters are a little slow and are basically retellings of what happens amongst the Amaya/Astarion universe that I created. The next chapter though is when their story begins to officially start :) Pls go easy on me, I don't have any proofreaders and I tried reading this a thousand times to make sure the grammar and spelling are good lmfao. ALSO! Love and smut won't be introduced till later chapters, right now its going to be painfully obvious that Amaya and Astarion are crushing on one another. So in other words it's a slow burn. OH, one more thing, I haven't posted much but I am pretty much done with the next chapter, I have to add in a few things that I forgot I wanted added in so maybe(hopefully) I'll post it by the end of the week? I plan on reading it and adding in more stuff tomorrow night, and then I have to get over my fears of posting it for a few days by rereading it 500 times lol.

Pairing: F!Durge, OC (Amaya), Tiefling, Selunite Cleric X Spawn Astarion

Rating: 18+!!! mentions of violence, blood, corpses, death, basically durge things if you know how that character is

WC: About 2300

Previous chapters: Prologue | Ch 1

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Story:

The wreckage of the nautiloid stretched behind them as Astarion trailed a few steps behind Amaya. He watched as his new companion led him in what seemed to be an increasingly familiar pattern.

"Any idea where you're going, darling?" He said with his voice filled with amusement. "Because it seems to me we're walking in circles."

Amaya's shoulders tensed. "Yes, I know where I'm going." The words came out clipped, and Astarion suppressed a smile. Perhaps he shouldn't have been so harsh earlier- the knife to her throat, shoving her into the dirt but, what was done was done. And if he was being honest with himself, he didn't particularly care.

"I'm looking for someone," she continued, her voice softening. "She can't be too far from the beach. Unless she's dead, but I..." Her words trailed off into the now cooling evening air.

"And who might this mystery person be?"

Amaya twirled to face him, walking backward with surprising grace. "A half-elf who helped me on the ship. I don't remember her name, but I think she's a cleric, like me."

"Ah, clerics." Astarion clicked his tongue. "I've never much cared for the gods. Rather exhausting business, all that worship and devotion."

Her expression turned thoughtful. "True but, I don't know why I worship Selûne, to be honest. When I woke up on the nautiloid, I had only faint memories of her, but I could feel her presence, feel my magic flowing from her." She turned to walk beside him, their steps falling into sync. "Her presence felt light and hopeful, which was nice compared to..." Her voice faded, and Astarion caught the shadow that passed across her face. He chose not to press.

Instead, he studied her with new interest. "You don't remember anything?"

"Just my name- Amaya Othzál- and fragments that keep surfacing. The details are..." She shrugged, offering a faint smile. "Hazy."

"Must be the tadpole's doing."

"Or I hit my head really hard." Her giggle was soft and musical, and Astarion found himself oddly charmed by the sound.

"Yes, that would certainly explain a few things about you," he scoffed playfully, rolling his eyes but unable to suppress a low chuckle.

Amaya then halted suddenly, causing Astarion to collide with her, nearly losing his footing to almost knock her over. "Do you think by any chance you could not stop so abruptly," he hissed.

"There's a wounded mindflayer," she whispered, pointing ahead.

"Better it than us," he remarked coldly. "But do be careful near that thing."

Amaya then approached slowly, her divine magic radiating a blinding light at her fingertips. Astarion watched as she hesitated to kill the abomination, kneeling before the creature within seconds.

"What in the hells- what are you doing? Get away from that thing!" Astarion then yanked her backward by the arm, breaking the creature's hold.

Reality crashed back, and almost immediately Amaya brought her boot down on the monster with crushing force. "Death is too good for it," she then turned to Astarion with apologetic eyes. "Thank you."

"Just don't do that again," he muttered. Amaya nodded.

The two had walked on for several more minutes completing a full circle back onto the beach when suddenly, Amaya bolted forward. "Wait! I think that's her!" She sprinted toward a prone figure in the sand. "How did I not see her? She was so close." Dropping to her knees, she checked for signs of life. "She's breathing- just unconscious."

The half-elf stirred at Amaya's gentle touch. "Y-you're alive," she mumbled, blinking in confusion. "I'm alive. How is this possible?"

As the women spoke, Astarion hung back, only half-listening until he heard his name mentioned. Amaya was recounting their earlier encounter while the half-elf—Shadowheart, she called herself- cast a healing spell. Shadowy magic knitted Amaya's wound closed, though the skin remained angry and red.

"You kept him around after he tried to kill you?" Shadowheart's green eyes bored into Astarion.

"He's infected, just like us." Amaya glanced at him with those big and round yet unusual eyes of hers- deep red and glowing, but it was as if the color itself was wrong somehow. The bridge of her nose had started to burn in the sun, making her constellation of freckles stand out even more. "I would've done the same, I think."

"Well, it's all in the past now, isn't it?" Astarion drawled. "We should be moving forward, shouldn't we..." Astarion awaited for the half-elf to give him her name.

The half-elf's response was as cold as winter. "It’s Shadowheart."

“Shadowheart. Let's go now.”Astarion scoffed at the half-elf giving her an equally challenging stare back. Rolling her eyes at Astarion, Shadowheart then carefully wrapped Amaya's wound. "Thank you so much," Amaya said.

“Anything for the person who saved my life.” Shadowheart said, smiling at Amaya her eyes lighting up. “Now let's get moving, lead the way.”

After looting a couple of dead goblins, their path led them to roadside cliffs overlooking what appeared to be temple ruins. As the party approached, a strange rune carved into the ancient stones caught her attention. Amaya paused, "There's something unusual about that rune," she murmured, cautiously moving closer to investigate.

“Amaya, do be careful,” Astarion warned. He had no desire to rescue her from another predicament as he had with the mindflayer. Ignoring the warning from him, Amaya reached out and faintly touched the rune with her fingers, causing her to recoil in pain. Amidst the eerie glow of the rune, a hand abruptly materialized, causing the trio to jump.

“A hand? Anyone?” cried a disembodied voice from the sigil.

Astarion's eyes remained fixed on Amaya, whose complexion grew pale as she stared transfixed at the spectral limb before her. Without any warning, she swiftly slapped the hand.

"Ow!" the voice exclaimed. "Perhaps I should have clarified—a helping hand? Anyone?"

Astarion couldn't contain his laughter. In their brief time together, he'd sensed a kindred spirit in Amaya's mischievous nature. After Amaya interrogated the sigil, she managed to use what was left of her divine magic and successfully pulled out a man. The sudden recoil from the conjuration caused the tiefling to stumble and fall, crashing directly into Astarion, he quickly reached out and grabbed ahold of her waist before she could hit the ground. 

“Hello, I’m Gale of Waterdeep!” the strange man said while dusting off his deep purple robes as the trio surrounded him.

In the corner of Astarion's eyes, the setting sun caught his attention. The sky blazed in a brilliant transformation, shifting from molten gold to soft coral to dusky rose- colors he had not truly seen in nearly two centuries. The fading light painted the landscape in an ethereal glow, turning the mundane into something magical. 

Only half-listening to the conversation behind him, Amaya boasted to the wizard, "I took control of the ship, landed it safely, and saved the day." Astarion couldn't help but snort at her words.

"That vast, burning wreckage behind you somewhat contradicts your story, but here you stand, so who am I to argue?"  the wizard responded sarcastically back at her with amusement.

Lost again in the sunset, a gentle touch on his shoulder startled him from his reverie. Amaya stood beside him, her unusual red eyes reflecting the sunset's dying embers. "Are you coming? We're setting up camp here for the night." She studied his face with quiet curiosity. "Do you like the sunset?"

"I'm used to the busy city," he lied smoothly, "so it's rare to see it like this." The truth- that he hadn't properly watched a sunset in two hundred years, caught in his throat.

"It is beautiful," Amaya murmured, her words trailing off as she gazed at the painted sky. Then, practical as ever: "But you should set up your tent before darkness falls, unless you fancy fumbling with poles in the pitch black." She turned away with a small smile, heading toward a flat patch of ground. Astarion sighed and followed, his feet dragging slightly in the dirt.

Gale, who seemed to be the ever the show-off, had his tent erected in minutes through a series of precise magical gestures. With another flourish of his hands, he conjured a blazing fire in the center of their makeshift camp. The flames cast dancing shadows across the clearing as twilight deepened around them.

"I hate to be bossy," Gale announced, though his tone suggested otherwise, "but I'm designating myself camp cook. Our supplies may be limited, but I promise to make something satisfying for us all."

Shadowheart's response was laced with sarcasm. "Fine, Gale."

Amaya chuckled at their bickering as she scanned the campsite, her smile fading when she noticed Astarion's empty tent. "Hm," she murmured, concern creasing her brow before she pushed the thought aside.

Inside her own tent, Amaya carefully arranged her few possessions. One particular possession made her smile, an old stuffed bunny-somehow preserved in her bag of holding took pride of place on her thin mattress. She found herself imagining ways to make the space more homely: perhaps some hanging plants, or a few cozy blankets. 

Changing quickly from her tattered armor, she borrowed a pair of black trousers from Shadowheart, cinching them with rope to fit her smaller frame. Her dark red underclothes would have to suffice as sleeping attire for the night. As she folded her armor, several gold-plated medallions caught her eye. Most were too damaged to read, their engravings worn smooth or broken, but one bore a partial image- half a skull surrounded by droplets. The symbol tugged at her memory, but like so much else, remained frustratingly out of reach.

Night had fully settled when Amaya joined the others by the fire. Crickets sang their evening chorus as torchlight flickered between their four tents. Gale offered her a bowl of dried fruits and meat with a gentle smile, which she returned gratefully.

"Where's your pale friend?" Shadowheart's question cut through the peaceful silence.

Amaya toyed with a piece of dried meat between her fingers. "Oh, he set up his tent and wandered off somewhere."

"I'd be careful with him." Shadowheart's green eyes bore into her with intensity.

"You don't trust Astarion?"

"Trust is a rare currency, Amaya. I'm not sure I would spend it on someone who drew a knife on me moments after we met." The words fell between them like ice.

Gale choked on his food. "He did what?"

"It's fine," Amaya insisted, though her head began to pound. Dark, unsettling thoughts from earlier crept back, visions of severing Gale's hand and slitting Astarion’s throat caused her to shudder. Amaya then pushed the thoughts away, fighting a wave of nausea.

"Fine," Shadowheart conceded, her gaze fixed on the flames. "But I'm watching him."

----

An hour had passed, and there was still no sign of Astarion. Shadowheart had already retreated to her tent while Amaya tried to focus on Gale's lecture about ceremorphosis, but her headache made it difficult to concentrate. His words blurred together as she stared into the fire.

"Now we have tadpoles slithering through our heads like carnivorous foeti. That's not abstract."

"I'm not too worried," Amaya offered weakly. "We'll find someone who can help."

"That's the spirit! Let's be up with the lark- find a healer before the wee one gets hungry. Oh, hello Astarion!"

Amaya turned around to find the elf had changed into simpler attire: a light blue shirt with ruffled collar and low neckline, paired with well-worn brown trousers and ornate shoes. The clothing showed signs of careful mending, a stark contrast to his earlier pristine outfit.

"Ah, yes. Thank you," he said as Gale thrust a bowl at him, his lip curling slightly at its contents. "Sorry for disappearing. I needed a walk."

"Nonsense!" Gale waved off the apology. "It's been a difficult day. But this wizard needs his beauty sleep, or I'll be absolutely insufferable tomorrow. Goodnight to you both. I should check if Shadowheart's still awake..."

As Gale departed, Astarion settled beside Amaya, setting his untouched food aside.

"Not hungry?"

"Not particularly," he replied tersely.

"I only ate half of mine because I felt sick," she offered. "So you're not alone." Despite his prickly exterior, she found conversation with him came naturally. While she felt a connection with Shadowheart too, something about Astarion's presence put her at ease.

They both started speaking at once, then stopped. "Oh, sorry- you go first," Amaya insisted.

Astarion paused, choosing his words carefully. "So, we're resting here? Turning in for the night?"

"It's no feather bed, but it'll do." She hugged her knees to her chest, pushing dark curls from her face.

"I suppose." His crimson eyes darted around the clearing. "I'm not sure what I expected, really. This is all rather new for me. My nights usually involve bustling streets and bursting taverns. Curling up in the dirt is... a little novel."

"I could make you some tea with calming herbs," she offered. "Help you relax."

"Ah, no- tea isn't really my drink." He tapped his temple. "I'll be awake anyway, processing all this. You sleep, I'll keep watch."

"Thank you, that helps. But first- what do you think of our new companions?"

A wicked grin spread across his face. "Ha! Well, we've picked up a wizard who managed to get stuck in his own portal- hardly a promising introduction. And then there's someone whose parents hopefully meant well by naming their child Shadowheart. Rather ominous, don't you think? Unless she chose it herself, which would be even more concerning."

Amaya couldn't help but laugh. "I suppose you’re right but they are all we have currently," She stood, brushing off her borrowed clothes. “You’ll have to excuse me now, I should pray before bed. Have a good night and try to get some rest yourself.”

"The pleasure is all mine. Sweet dreams," he murmured, watching her silhouette move through the moonlight toward her tent.

[baldursfate]

Reimagining: A Durgetash Fic

An AU in which Gortash and Ketheric join forces with Durge and Co. against Orin, who has gained possession of 2/3 netherstones.

Part 1. Updates Thursdays.

There they stood, the masterminds behind the Absolute. Tav looked on curiously from where they were crouched behind a fleshy wall. She hadn't expected this fight to drag on, much less send them gallivanting through an illithid colony. She most certainly did not predict the arrival of the other chosen of the Dead Three. They stood, conversing familiarly, though Tav could not register what was being said. She wished for nothing more in that moment than to be an elf, the superior hearing would have been most handy.

As she pondered this, Ketheric suddenly raised a fist to the man next to him, a tiresome looking fellow garbed in exquisite finery. He had a presumptuous presence, and Tav's head ached with another repressed memory, drawn to him in a way that was both discomfited and comfortable. She had seen this man before, though she wasn't certain as to where. She contemplated the attraction, focusing hard on the memory, yet it would not come to fruition. As Tav focused on her mind, a pale woman, plated in the skins of a yuan-ti, intevened, and Tav felt her innards burn with disrelish. Dark urges surged to her mind's surface. This woman, this abomination, had no right to threaten what was her's.

Tav blinked once, then again, the urge fading as she processed the thought. Her's. Lost in thought and daydream, she nearly missed the moment the pale woman wielded her blade and pried a bright stone from Ketheric's armor. It was over in a moment, the woman a blur of crimson and bone white. Tav would have missed the exchange if it weren't for her victorious cackle. She grinned maniacally, before sweeping towards the other man, grasping for his gauntleted fist. When she was unable to grasp his stone, she resorted instead to swinging her blade haphazardly, clearly hoping to slice it from his arm. The man smugly caught her forearm, and as her blade stilled, Tav noticed another stone embedded in the handle. She wondered what value they held to warrant such a reaction from this woman. As the man reached for his crossbow, the woman placed a swift kick to his stomach, knocking the air out of his lungs. The move bought her enough time to conjur a portal and slip away.

Tav took this confusion as her chance to get closer. She motioned to her companions to stay still and quiet, before downing an invisibility potion. She silently stalked to the platform, where the two men were now shouting. The younger man gestured wildly, the golden gauntlet and bright gem flashing in the dim lights of the fleshy cavern. She could make out his voice, raised and rageous, though Tav found a subtle security in the tone.

"It does not come as a surprise that Orin would turn against us. She is unstable at best, and at worst..." The man shook his head, "We are lucky, that she is as unrefined as she is. Bhaal's disciples rarely leave without bloodshed. However, that does not excuse your imprudence. Your reactions were that of a drunken fool." At this, the man thrust his finger at Ketheric, pressing in the hole where the stone once resided. "Might I remind you what will come to be if we fail..."

Ketheric scoffed, smacking the man's hand away, before turning to pace the platform. "It was not in my control. A group of vagrants arrived a fortnight ago, found and freed the Nightsong, and began an attack on the towers. I had just ordered the bulk of the forces forward to Baldur's Gate, else I would have already vanquished the scum." At this, the man seemed intrigued, "A group of vagrants? You make it out as if they were common mercenaries, yet they have somehow managed to disrupt a man of your..." He gestured vaguely to Ketheric, "...vitality." Ketheric stopped pacing for a moment, and turned to make scolding eye contact with his colleague. "It brings me no pleasure to confide in you that the artifact was found, nor does it amuse me to confirm that it indeed prohibits any form of influence from the elder brain."

At the mention of an elderbrain, Tav gasped before quickly throwing a hand over her mouth. The movement caused the illusion to flicker, momentarily rendering her visible. The younger man's back was to her, he had been staring into the cavern in the middle of the platform, lost in thought. Ketheric, however, was faced in her direction, and caught her gaze with a look of disinterest. He cleared his throat, alerting his colleague, who waved him off absentmindedly. "Not now, I am trying to think."

Ketheric rolled his eyes, "Think all you will, I'm sure our guests will find great pleasure stabbing you through the back." At his words, the man spun around, postured anger and annoyance oozed from his features. His eyes dark eyes scoped out the cavern before falling to Tav, and the visage of anger melted into a myriad of suprise, confusion, relief, and finally, excitement.

[sinistercall]

what's your favourite thing about ithuriel's appearance ?

𝐔𝐍𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐘 𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐌𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐋𝐄. 𝐁𝐇𝐀𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐀 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐘𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘. 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇... 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄... 𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

Something I really enjoy about Durge as a whole is the fact that Bhaal had "given his seed" out long before Durge was even an idea - and instead, with Bhaal being on another plane, was sculpted from his very essence. Sceleritas Fel answers a lot of questions about Durge's past, and one of the questions able to be asked is in regards to Durge's mother; to which its discovered the character doesn't have one:

𝘠𝘖𝘜 𝘞𝘌𝘙𝘌 𝘕𝘖𝘛 𝘊𝘖𝘕𝘊𝘌𝘐𝘝𝘌𝘋. 𝘉𝘏𝘈𝘈𝘓 𝘚𝘊𝘜𝘓𝘗𝘛𝘌𝘋 𝘠𝘖𝘜 𝘍𝘙𝘖𝘔 𝘈 𝘋𝘙𝘖𝘗 𝘖𝘍 𝘏𝘐𝘚 𝘖𝘞𝘕 𝘎𝘖𝘙𝘌.

I found this idea really cool because bodies are full of different colors, not just red but whites, blues, purples, all of that - so I had to sit and really decide what I wanted to do with them since I was dead set on making a tiefling. But of course being me I couldn't just leave her being standard red, and instead wanted to base her on something else in the body besides blood. Eventually I settled on having her visage be inspired by bleached bones and their raw marrow:

There's many different viscera within the body, and I included the inspiration of veins and arteries as well - the blues lend themselves a fine contrast to the pinks and creams that make up her main body. The reason I went with bones specifically is because of their meaning in regards to Ithuriel's storyline: there is a degree of duality with regard to the symbolism of bones in that they can both represent death but also the indestructible part of life which endures beyond death. Not only this but in many cultures they are used to encourage reflection on one's mortality and the impermanence of worldly attachments - and identity is a major theme of Ithuriel's story since she feels she lacks one at all.

Her name even means "discovery of God" - whether she follow the lifelong destiny promised by Father Bhaal or decides to free herself from it entirely.

Another aspect of Ithuriel's design are the two dark crescents under her eyes, they're not actually markings but rather makeup that she puts on when she wakes up in the morning. This is more than a routine for her, however. Durge's storyline is rife with amnesia and while it isn't my favorite trope it does lend for some interesting explorations in terms of identity and what it means to connect with something specific from one's past. These markings are similar to a haircut or a tattoo for her; they are something she remembers being present on her body often, and she intends to keep them there as her reflection looks wrong without them.

This next paragraph is going to seem like its out of left field a little but I promise they all connect. Within the realm of DND devotion to Gods usually brings about boons or power that can be used by clerics, paladins etc - this happens whether someone is born into worship or indoctrinated. However if you dig a bit deeper into Bhaal specifically you’ll find books and writings detailing how his devoted are gifted divine ecstasy. Joy and pleasure beyond anything by following his tenets - and considering some Bhaalists are necrophiles it definitely extends into sexual pleasure. A common reaction to sexual pleasure is to run the hands down the face, usually starting at the corner's of the eyes and following the curve of the cheek down to the chin or jaw.

These marks that she is recreating with makeup are from the blood of hundreds (if not thousands) of sacrifices within Bhaal's name, each one having their blood smeared down her face while she writhed in pleasure gifted from her Father. Ithuriel before the tadpole was a massive hedonist, and while extremely logical and efficient as she is now, she enjoyed her worship and the gifts given to her by Bhaal. While Bhaal inflicts his spawn with dark urges/nightmares so they either submit to the depravity and become a worshipper or resist and Ithuriel, in her past, felt extremely loved and connected to her Father and gladly obeyed his doctrine. Currently she's unaware why she's so connected to these markings, or of their nature, and uses a dark carmine to rouge pigment to recreate the markings.

I also like her double horns and that she's built like a brickhouse but -

[yennefer-of-vengerbergs]

[Original version] Confession

Astarion reflects on his feelings towards Syanna, from when they first met, up to when he finally decides to confess everything to her.

Pairing: Astarion x f!durge

Other notes: This is my own spin on Astarion's thoughts on the relationship he and my durge character, Syanna have, finishing with his confession scene, where I took the liberty of expanding a bit on it, combining most of the dialogue options, as well as mixing in small parts from the Araj confession. I've also followed the order in which some things happened in my own Durge playthrough so far (I'm still in Act 2, haven't gotten to his confession yet, but I am using what I know from my regular Tav playthrough, while double checking other things online).

Read below or on Ao3

Astarion found himself thinking about her. 

What a walking contradiction she was.

On the one hand, she was prone to being a bleeding heart on occasion, wanting to help those she ran into.

Barely off a crashed Nautiloid and she was picking up other survivors from the ship, himself included. Even if he had thrown her to the ground, threatening her with a dagger. She’d taken it surprisingly well too, stating she probably would have done the same in his position.

Then she was agreeing to help out the tieflings from the Emerald Grove. 

And rescuing a child from being killed by the druid leader. 

And helping that bard, Alfira, with her song. 

On the other, she was also prone to bursts of violence and murder, dark urges which she could not always control or resist. 

She always felt guilty afterwards though. Especially so after she had brutally murdered Alfira. Barely a few hours after joining their camp, she was laying there, on the ground, in her own blood.

She had always been completely honest about how broken her mind was. She had asked for advice. She had asked everyone in camp for help. 

Nobody knew what to do or say to her. They just spun some version of ‘oh, we all have those thoughts sometimes’ and that ‘she should focus that on their enemies’. She felt as if nobody was taking her seriously, not realizing just how bad things were.

And once everyone else had seen that she had killed the bard? 

They were scared. They judged. They blamed her. They told her to keep her distance, that they would be watching her. That if she tried to hurt them, they would defend themselves.

She couldn't blame them, not really. 

***

Naturally, she had distanced herself from everyone. 

He noticed that she had taken her bedroll to the small ruin that was next to their camp and started staying there at night, away from everyone, her reasoning being that it was fine, really. Part of the roof was still intact, so she could at least be safe from the elements. If anything, it was an improvement over trancing in the dirt, next to the campfire. She could always use a spell to start a fire of her own to keep warm.

During the day, when they traveled, she would either wander ahead, or stay further back. After all, they had made it clear that they wanted her to keep her distance, so keep her distance she did. 

He’d told her at one point that he didn't blame or judge her for what she had done. 

She appreciated that. 

What she hadn't appreciated was how he then told her that the look of guilt she had on her face was priceless and that she could have been more subtle about it. 

Oh well.

***

One day, they had found a dog, Scratch, close to its dead owner. The dog was hostile at first, but soon calmed once she had talked to him, even sniffed her hand, remembering her scent.

She always seemed to have a potion on hand that would let her speak to animals. She liked animals, so she hoped the dog would follow her to camp.It did, eventually, always keeping her company afterwards.

On another day, they had found the so-called devil that Wyll was hunting, Karlach. Said devil was in fact a tiefling. Syanna had immediately sided with her when Wyll wanted to kill her, pointing out what they had all been shown by the tadpole connection, that Karlach was indeed telling the truth and was not in fact a danger to anyone. 

Astarion found himself approving of that. Hells, in time, there were other things she did that he approved of. Some were chaotically fun and hilarious to him. Others were on the practical side. Others yet were oddly heartwarming, even to him, like how she had taken in the owlbear cub from the goblin camp they had cleared. Most people would have refused to do that, seeing it as nothing more than another beast that could kill them, another monster to be afraid of. 

She didn't. She saw a young cub, scared of its surroundings, wounded, alone, his mother having been killed by the goblins that captured him for their own entertainment.

Most importantly however, she hadn't shunned or staked him when he tried to feed from her while she tried to rest. She had been surprisingly reasonable. Even offered him her blood afterwards. She’d taken his side when the others didn't seem particularly pleased about him being a vampire. She'd agreed with his idea of feeding off their enemies, seeing as he could start fighting with all his weapons, fangs included. But she had also offered to let him feed on her, if and when he needed to. An open invitation, as it were. 

It was a gift. One he would not forget.

***

She seemed better as time went on. The two animals they took in were always near her when in camp, keeping her company. 

She had gotten closer to him and Karlach. Not a surprise, seeing as they were the only ones who truly didn't judge her. 

Karlach had appreciated her help and trust when they met, as well as her bleeding heart, so in her eyes, Syanna was someone good overall, if a little tortured. She had also been honest with the tiefling about her urges and what had happened with the bard, but she had simply told her that if she had the guts to say it outloud, to feel regret, then she would be able to change. And if she was willing to resist those urges, as Syanna said she was, then surely she was on the right track. She had also given her the same line about focusing on their enemies if the urges became too much, but somehow, she felt that Karlach had been more supportive overall.

Later on, when the druid, Halsin had joined their camp, she got along with him as well, for similar reasons. He had even offered to help her with her broken mind once their tadpole problem was solved.

The others, she wasn't as close to. Things had gotten better, but it was obvious whose company she preferred. 

That would do nicely for his plan. All she had to do was fall for it. Easy.

So he had started flirting with her, something which came easily to him. He wanted her on his side, trusting him, never turning on him, helping him.

Seducing her was easy, truly. 

She reciprocated his attention. 

She already preferred his company.

She had accepted his advances when he propositioned her one night.

What he hadn't expected was to… enjoy the night they spent together. Not fully, as at one point his mind had gone somewhere far away (which she had noticed and pointed out the morning after), but at the same time…there were moments that he had enjoyed prior to that. 

She actually seemed interested in what he wanted that night as well, not willing to just be a passive participant. She wanted to reciprocate, to touch him, to show him how he made her feel and to bring him the same kind of pleasure. 

It was surprising to him. Unexpected even. 

He would also be lying if he said he didn't find her attractive. She was a beautiful woman, it was impossible not to. 

All in all, his plan was moving along splendidly.

So he carried on. 

He continued to flirt with her, honeyed words dripping from him each time. 

He invited her back to his bed frequently. Or back to that pretty clearing that he had found. He’d even stolen her away during the party the tieflings had organized once the goblin camp was defeated, their leaders killed. 

Even though several of their group had also propositioned her that night, she still went to him. Excellent. 

At some later point, she started spending her nights in his tent, seeking out his company. When it involved sex, she would simply stay the night, wrapped around him. Others, it was just being with each other. They would read and they would talk. Most surprisingly though, they would cuddle . 

He never had been a cuddler, but having her so close, holding on to him, it was nice. All those nights actually seemed to mean something to him too, a strange comfort starting to emerge whenever it was just the two of them. And when she didn't spend the night in his tent? He actually found himself wanting her there.

Shit.

***

She had done him kindness after kindness on multiple occasions, not expecting anything in return.

She had given him various things for his tent whenever they cropped up during their travels - a new bedroll, alongside a pillow and blanket; she pointed out books that she thought he might find interesting; she grabbed small pieces of decor and art she thought he might appreciate. His own little spot in camp was actually starting to look more comfortable. Tidier even. 

Meanwhile, she didn’t even have her own tent, just a bedroll.

She listened to him whenever he confided in her about something.

She had pointed out his scars and how they were written in Infernal. She drew them out for him to see, first on the ground where they stood, then on paper, so they could both research them more easily. She had promised to keep an eye out for any books, occult or otherwise, that might help him with information too.

it wasn't her problem, but she still wanted to help him.

She had acted as his mirror when she found him trying to look into one, telling him how she saw him. She then had the idea to cast a Mirror Image spell on him so he could actually see himself for the first time in centuries. Seeing that it worked, she then brought him any scrolls for the spell that she found on their travels so he could cast it himself whenever he needed to.

She was always willing to help him - she was already looking into finding out what the scars on his back were before they approached Raphael about them. She respected his wish to keep it between them and not to involve anyone else from camp. 

She then had helped him with his deal with Raphael (and that she did, Yurgir was dead, his end of the deal done, the mystery of his scars clearer, but turned into something even more muddled at the same time).

She even swore she would do everything she could to help him with dealing with Cazador and the ritual of profane ascension that he was meant to be a part of. 

She also stood up for him when they encountered that vile drow in Moonrise Towers, something that he was incredibly grateful for. 

He was grateful for everything she did.

Anyone would agree his nice, simple plan was a resounding success.

So why did he feel so awful?

Well, it just so happens that he had started to genuinely enjoy her company the more time had passed during their travels.

He found himself thinking of her more often. Looking out for her in combat, his arrows always aimed at those who were too close to her. 

He was distraught whenever she was downed by an attack, immediately on his way to help her, a revivify scroll and healing potion at the ready..

He was always first to help her when she slipped or had to climb somewhere, or when she became entangled in some twisting vines. 

He loved teasing her when that happened, tsk-ing and saying that he was starting to think she liked being restrained. She would always tease back, telling him to find out for himself later.

He even wanted to find her a tent she could use when she wasn't spending the night in his own one. 

***

At the same time, he was so concerned for her. She was frequently exhausted and in pain, rest, actual rest, almost always eluding her. Often, she preferred to skip going into a trance altogether, too worried about the nightmares that could return. Of the urge coming back. He could also see how she sometimes was shaking, or how she looked ready to faint. He could see how her urges were eating away at her, how she struggled with them. 

Sometimes, when she was finally too exhausted, she would actually fall asleep next to him, her face nuzzling his chest, an arm draped over him. Whenever that happened, he found that he would have much rather stayed there and let her sleep until late morning, not having the heart to move and risk waking her. 

He felt like such a fool.

***

One night, she woke him up, scared she would hurt him, scared she would kill him , not knowing what to do or how to stop it, asking him to get to safety, to stop her, anything . 

When she collapsed, unconscious, he moved, grabbed a length of rope and tied her up. 

Then, he waited. 

When she woke up, she wasn't herself. 

She threatened, she growled, she tried to bite him, she screamed at him, fighting against her bindings. 

But she also was trying so hard to resist, to break through, to regain control of herself. She tried to show him that she understood, that she was grateful, but it was so, so difficult.

More threats. More screams. 

She sobbed, begging him to just kill her, to make it stop.

It truly worried him, seeing her like that. He had been worried about himself at first, yes, but he was even more worried about her.

He wouldn't let that thing have her. He wouldn't let it win. 

He spent the night with her, trying to offer words of comfort and encouragement where he could. Keeping her safe. Shooing away the rest of their companions whenever they came to see what was happening. 

The night finally passed, bloodless. Syanna was laying on her side, still tied up. She looked defeated. Guilty. Remorseful, with tears in her eyes. She let out a sob. 

Astarion moved to untie her and helped her sit up. Her wrists were raw and bloody from how much she struggled against her bindings. 

He hated seeing her like that. 

He handed her a healing potion and listened to what had happened before she came to him.

He reassured her he would be there to make sure she would get through it all, that she wouldn't be alone, no matter how much she protested that it might happen again, and what if she hurt him then? 

She gave him something to care for and that was worth the peril. After all, they were in it together.

Did he really say that?

Yes, yes he did.

***

He also found himself wanting her approval. 

He wanted her to think of him as something more. 

He didn't want to lie or manipulate anymore.

He cared.

He wanted to tell her the truth, as frightening as it was to him.

Still…

What if she broke things off?

What if she hated him afterwards? 

He could just… not tell her, he could just let things continue between them, knowing that his plan had gone out the proverbial window long ago. That it was real for him. Why risk ruining it?

No. No, she deserved the truth. She deserved something real, something more. She didn't deserve his lies. She deserved to choose if she wanted to continue whatever was between them or not.

Making up his mind, he walked over to where she was sitting. Noticing him, she set aside her book, greeting him with a smile.

“Do you have a moment? I think we need to talk.” 

Gods, he sounded so concerned. Scared almost. 

Noticing this, her smile fell. She stood up.

“What's wrong? Are you alright?”

“Oh yes, I’m fine. I just…feel awful.”

She frowned. 

“That's not how I would define fine, Astarion. Please, talk to me?”

Gods, why was she being so nice to him?

“Look, I had a plan. A nice, simple plan - seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me.” he laughed nervously.

She didn't say anything. She seemed too taken aback by the sudden confession to say anything.

He continued. He had to continue.

“It was easy - instinctive. Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it.” 

He hated the way his voice started to crack as he kept going on. He hated how she had tears forming in her eyes because of him. 

This is it. Surely she would leave him. He would lose her.

Still, he carried on.

“And all I had to do was not fall for you…which is where my nice, simple plan fell apart.” He paused for a moment, gesturing towards her. “You…you're incredible. You did so much for me…you helped me, you…cared about what I wanted… you didn’t ask me to throw myself at that vile drow, didn’t trade me for a potion, what I wanted be damned.” he paused. “You deserve something real. I want us to be something real.”

He looked at her, with sad, scared, but hopeful eyes.

“So…the time we spent together meant nothing to you then? All those nights, all those moments, were they just lies?” 

“Of course they meant something - that's the problem! Or part of it.” He sighed. “Being close to someone - any kind of intimacy - was something I performed to lure people back for him . And even though I know things between us are different, being with someone still feels…tainted. Still brings up those feelings of disgust and loathing. I…don’t know how else to be with someone. No matter how much I’d like to.” 

He’d said what he had to say. He looked at her, vulnerability obvious in his expression, waiting for a reply. 

It terrified him.

“Astarion…” she swallowed. “I’m not naïve enough to think that things were something…more between us when they started, but…” she took a breath to calm herself, to keep her voice from breaking any more than it already was. “But they actually became real for me. I thought…I hoped it was mutual. I wanted it more than anything. I do care about you. Deeply. But this…this hurts.” 

Tears were rolling down her cheeks, but she was trying so hard to keep herself composed. 

He hated himself for causing her to feel that way. 

He didn't know what to say to her. 

Could he even say anything that would make things up to her, that would comfort her in any way? He didn't know.

“I’m…I’m sorry. I’d understand if you wanted to end things between us now.” 

It hurt him to say it, but he wouldn't hold it against her if that was what she wanted to do. Which is why what she did next took him by surprise.

She hugged him. 

He was so taken aback by it that he didn't know how to react or what to do at first. He couldn't even remember a time when he had been hugged.

Slowly, he wrapped his arms around her.

He didn’t want to let go of her. 

Her voice was a broken whisper, but he heard her. 

“That would hurt me even more.” 

She let go of him and stepped back. She cleared her throat. 

“I meant what I said. You mean a great deal to me. And I want this to be real too. More than anything.” 

Relief washed over him. But he was still….nervous.

“I…just don’t know what ‘real’ looks like. Not after two hundred years playing the rake. I…don’t even know what to do.” 

“Then…what do you want to do?” 

He paused, thinking about her question. “...I don’t know what I want. It’s been so long since I’ve had to decide what I wanted.”

She thought for a moment, unsure how to proceed. 

“Maybe…maybe we can start over then? We can be together. And to make it clear, we don’t have to have sex, for as long as you need.”

“Hah, why, that almost sounds like a challenge.” he was nervous again. He didn’t know how to react. What else could he even be good for, what else could he even offer her? 

“I mean it. I don’t want you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. We can just…be and just… get reacquainted with one another.” 

He took her hand in his own, a small smile on his face. “Honestly, I have no idea what we’re doing. Or what comes next.” 

“Then we can just see where this takes us.” 

He placed his other hand on top of hers. 

“I do know one thing though. I know that this…this is nice.” 

As emotional as she was feeling, she couldn’t help but agree. It was nice to have that honesty between them now. To know they were both on the same page. That if they got through this, then things would be alright. 

[thistle-spores]

Some rambling thoughts on the Shadowlands

(contains discussion of Jaheira and Halsin's deaths)

*Please note that this is my first time really doing the Shadowlands and I'm going into it mostly blind (I do know some major plot stuff, but their locations and how those quests play out I'm not familiar with)

So Standev keeps failing at things and this is definitely because I'm unprepared for the fights, especially the swarming group fights with npcs to protect. That being said it does really add to the ambience of the Shadowlands, and I do think that playing as a Durge has made this even more interesting.

Standev has been very successful so far at overcoming the urges and striking a "balance" between the need to kill on the adventure and trying to only do it for good and productive purposes. But suddenly at the Last Light Inn when they try and do the same thing again, they fail. Isobel was felled running away from one of her attackers before Shadowheart could heal her. Jaheira panicked and cast an ice storm too close, taking out Shadowheart and injuring herself badly. Gale, Shadowheart and Standev died, only able to continue the adventure because Karlach ran around the back of the Inn to escape and got Withers to resurrect everyone. And so Jaheira is dead. Dammon is dead (though we did get Karlach's upgrade first, thank fuck). Everyone is dead.

Poking around Last Light Inn the group found Art Cullagh's corpse and figured out where to find Thaniel. Queue Halsin wanting to enter Shadowfell to find him and well...... he died too. So the Shadow Curse can't be lifted (as far as I'm aware).

These were an interesting series of events as Standev was technically doing everything "right" and "good," but they still failed and the world continued to get worse. They can control their urge, yet good and important people continue to die. Sometimes by their hand!

After the slaughter of Last Light Inn there is some Durge specific dialogue. I only picked 2 of the 4 options because some of them really didn't make sense for Standev (Wyll and Karlach's). I think it's interesting how the dialogue doesn't consider that the Durge just,,, failed to save the Inn. That being said it was very interesting that neither Shadowheart nor Gale lost approval for choosing the dialogue.

Also I don't know if this is part of the game or a glitch, but Standev in addition to Shadowheart was unaffected by the general Shadow Curse. Bhaal and Shar's influence feels very strong. Especially since both Shadowheart and Standev had bad reactions to the blessing of Selune.

Speaking of Shar. I think before the Shadowlands Standev was actually very curious about Shar? The endless night and numbing embrace that Shadowheart talks about is very tempting and comforting to Standev who alternates wildly between murderous urges and ecstasy, and psionic neutrality and deep emptiness/hunger. But then they get to the Shadowlands which seem to be taking away everything they've worked towards. They start questioning what Shadowheart says about the goddess, start doubting how Shar treats her (she has died twice). It's definitely leading up to Standev trying to turn Shadowheart away from Shar.

And on a final note on gods. Standev and crew all had Lathander's blessing (or whatever it's called) when going in to the Shadowlands and it definitely helped when saving the Harpers. So I think there's probably some incentive to go back and get Lathander's blood, since saving the Harpers was the only thing to go right so far, and especially since there's now no way to lift the Shadow Curse. Because Standev was definitely going to leave it and the creche alone (they did not recruit Lae'zel).

Anyways, ramble over I can't wait to see where this shitshow goes next.

(Also can we just pour one out for Karlach. She finally can touch people again only for Mizora to show up that night and then all the bullshit mentioned above rip).

[nyf-archive]

i still have so many feelings about my durge!!! the muse is strong with this one and a few others.

colette, as a d!urge in general, wants to be redeemed in the end. she's killed countless people, has attacked her friends, and even lashed out at those she loves the most. it kills her to know that they are always on edge around her, and if gale or astarion hadn't convinced her not to end her own life, she would have as soon as she found out she had hurt one of them. to be out of control of her own body and to the mindless puppet to her true father? it is no life to live.

it is painful to exist as bhaalspawn. denying who she is, denying the slayer within her is literally killing her. she is afraid that one day, she's going to disappear for good and the creature is going to run rampant. she constantly scratches a wound in her thigh from where she grips onto herself, holding onto reality and causing herself pain to draw her back into reality. the panic attacks afterwards are always hard, always exhausting.

whichever partner she has, though, makes it a bit easier on her. when she is settled enough down and they're able to touch her again, it's an entire day's worth of rest. there are even days where she insists on being bound to prevent herself from harming them. there have been many times where she has awoken with a knife in her hands; either held above her as if she is going to stab down into them, against their throat as to slash it in the next moment, or even just held in a reverse grip. but with those blown irises, they usually realize what happens. bhaal is telling her how easy it could be to just take that which she loves away from her should she continue to resist. it terrifies her. she practically begs for help at that point, terrified out of her mind that her father will gain control over her and punishes her for her disobedience.

if the bout of bloodlust is ridden out, she usually only ends up with cut up and sore wrists and ankles which usually shadowheart or halsin take care of for her, but again, is very exhausted and just wants to sleep. and thankfully, she's too exhausted and the slayer is worn out, that it's one of the only times she gets true sleep.

POSSIBLE PATHWAYS CAUSE YEAH

denies bhaal - after denying bhaal, colette definitely does all that she can to make sure that the grand design is thwarted. gale doesn't sacrifice himself and is forgiven by mystra, raphael is dead, and all of her allies are alive and well. she's recruited and saved almost everybody she could, hoping to atone for the sins she committed as her former bhaalspawn self.

denies bhaal, stays with gortash - after becoming 'the child of none', she definitely loses her sense of self. but with a little encouragement, she chooses a new path and sets a course to prove that she is not just that which her father created. of course, she stays with gortash and sees that their plans are complete, as his guard dog or personal assassin again, she stays loyal to the one person in her life from her past.

accepts bhaal, stays with gortash - accepting the slayer and the powers of her father, colette is ever faithful to that of her partner, finishing the design that their gods laid before them, claiming her birth right and returning to Moonrise towers to rule over as 'The Absolute's Chosen' to always make sure there is an 'enemy' for Enver to fight so that way he can keep his seat of power.