bakrahispul

[bakrahispul]

While muddled, the aftercare the druid provided came with the utmost consideration. Not a speck of dust nor dirt was left on the pale elf's body as he cleaned him from the floor, shuffling awkwardly to wipe a rag against his features while the poor thing clung to him and provided a pretty smile for the messy moment.

His question was answered, earning another charming smile on those features while the soft beads of sweat were wiped clean upon glistening skin. There was only so much that Halsin's rag could wipe off - but at least the effort made itself clear.

Halsin helped Astarion up, wobbling his knees gently as the consequences of their roughhousing made themselves apparent on their sore limbs.

Gentle bruises had marked their waists and backs from the harsh surface of the tree. Blots of soreness painted their thighs from excessive pressure either with their bodies or against the floor. The creeping cold that kept itself at bay now sunk into their bones, reaping the waning warmth that only made itself present with rigorous lovemaking.

Even the stench of the city wormed its way to their nostrils. The otherwise salacious scent of sex and fluids was overpowered by the filth and rot of the city the moment the druid finally sharpened his senses post-rut. Had they not made love in a park where the barest semblance of nature presented itself, Halsin might have been distracted throughout the whole session.

By the time Halsin cleaned their bodies up, he had himself shivering softly while the vampire stood tall and unaffected, left to pose like a naked statue among the breezy winds.

Reaching out, Halsin provided Astarion's clothes that were folded neatly before their raunchy session.

"The ground will dry up before the morn. Let's get back home at the inn, shall we? A bath to wash the sins off would be nice before I retire for the evening." Halsin spoke softly, landing an arm across Astarion's shoulder, roping him close.

"Well. After you get dressed. Better keep that elven beauty for my eyes only."

Surging fear gripped his heart like a vise tightening its hold on metal, and almost as if on command, Astarion deigned not look at his master in the eye. Curled up where he was left, all but stripped of his defences, the pale elf braced his head and tucked it in between wound up knees as if to protect himself for the barrage of assault that would normally follow after.

First were the insults. Then, the abuse.

Preened pointy ears met with no jest teasing into hostility. There were no caustic remarks being registered that night, but rather, something warm– sticky sweet. A concern that didn’t belong in his prison. And it was only when the rattle of chains didn’t follow his movements that the pale elf ventured a gander between the gap of forearm and arm shielding his head from any rogue blows.

The face was familiar, weathered with the centuries, but no less enticing than it had been the first they’d met.

“Halsin?” Fear matured into relief all across those beautiful elven features and the vampire pushed himself on his knees to seize the archdruid’s arms, delivering himself into his embrace.

Warmth radiated from those strong, veiny limbs and permeated the pale elf’s fair skin. A moment that stretched into minutes, and minutes felt like a century before Astarion eased back to hold on to his lover’s face almost as if reassuring himself that this was no illusion. That Halsin had been real all along.

“No.” He hesitated, smoothing his voice with the undertone of a low, drawling purr. “You were perfect.”

Astarion settled his lie with a kiss.

#halsin #bg3 rp #sanguisarcana #tw; usft

[bakrahispul]

As a mediator, it was in his best interests to keep things civil. Though, with tensions rising like the afternoon sun it was clear that there may be some intervention needed.

Speaking out to cut through the hostility was Halsin's first input before the two individuals collectively recoiled at something the druid could not sense. A psychic connection perhaps? He certainly did not share their sudden pangs of pain. His hand gently twitched with a soft, verdant glow, readying a simple restoration should this harm grow too great.

"It seems as though you two share a greater bond than you expected." He observed. If this malady had something to do with the sudden infestation of goblins at the nearby selunite temple, then the situation might have gotten far worse than he expected.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the bank the Blade of the Frontiers was unwilfully subjected to horrid, intense visions of the greater hells. False truths? Surely. Each hacked skull made by the tiefling woman before him through each painful, passing vision showed her defiance to her captors.

The shared feelings. The vitriolic rage to be freed from enslavement. These did not fit the villainous picture painted by his contractor. Hells, these painted a poor soul being used as a tool for the greater evil if anything.

One could never take these visions as truth. Perhaps it was a trick! All devils were mischievous - even their pawns. That must be so...

...and yet, the feelings that surged through every fibre of his being sought for a wisp of sympathy. Fake or not. It was a convincing psychic attack.

"Creatures from the hells should not be given a scrap of forgiveness.. I - I know you've slaughtered innocents. You've raised your sword as a soldier in Zariel's army!"

"How can I accept these vision? How can I trust a devil?" Wyll groaned out, his eyes fierce with unkempt determination.

Halsin's eye sights switched towards the crumbling male. His rapier was poised, faltering even with his words being spat out. With his arms stretched, he fanned down the confrontation, hoping to lower the noise as his own senses felt a horrid presence fermenting in the near distance.

"My friend. Wyll, was it? What you see here is no devil. No wings bear her back. No malice is present in her eyes. She bears no intention other than fleeing for her own safety!" Halsin reasoned, mediating their little spat.

Reaching out, the druid unwrapped a set of linen to aid the tiefling's own injuries, patching what could be covered. The stench of iron was dizzying and would surely attract patrolling predators.

What kind, one might ask? Perhaps the newly born gnolls that were grotesquely hatched at the nearby broken bridge, crawling out of their mother's bodies to sniff the putrid air for their first meal, a trio that was unaware of the dangers spawned before them.

Just as quickly as caution was lowered, it raised its haunches and bared its teeth like a wild animal, cornered, and snarling at uncertainty. The Blade of Frontiers, once more on her tail. Truth be told, there was a small part of her that hoped he had returned home to his mistress, tail firmly tucked between his legs and full of mournful apologies about how he should've done better.

That's how devils lackeys worked, was it not? One leashed, the other a sharp tug and cutting punishment but a wave of a hand away?

The druid's words fell on deaf ears, and Karlach was caught in the uncomfortable limbo of fight or flight, where a part of her screamed at her to flee again, and the angry, vengeful part of her wanted to make ready for the battle. Common sense, however, would win out of the war of the two. An underdog most unexpected.

Slowly, Karlach raised her hands. They were empty, palms well-scarred and burned from her stint in the hells. Halsin's jolly laughter felt out of place enough that her head turned towards the sound, but her eyes remained firmly on the wrathful ones of the Blade. "Something like that." She was fucking cornered, and this time, without the lay of the land memorised, she might as well have been caged and awaiting her execution.

"Listen, man," Karlach said. "Let's not be hasty." A step backward. Her heel sank into the softness of the riverbank behind her and she paused. No use, when there was nothing but a river and solid cliff behind her.

The parasite reached for his, and Karlach felt a sharp, stabbing pain behind her eye. Something in her head squirmed and wriggled, dived deeper into the softness of her mind. Hands once raised in surrender cradle her temples as though the press of her palms could do anything to ease it. She can it herself, now. The tireless war-waging. The blaze of glory she burned across the hells under the command of Zariel. Reluctance. Fear. Guilt. All of it.

As the vision faded, and panic quickly settled in the pit of her belly, cold and uncomfortable.

"I promise you, I am not what or who you think I am, can you not see sense?"

#halsin #bg3 rp #infernaliscor

[bakrahispul]

Their return to the camp looked as uneventful as expected. Not even a single member batted an eye at the slightly disheveled elf and his affectionate druid companion who walked with a slightly whiter shade of skin. One might think that they would have forgotten about the two if they had never even returned.

Dinner came and went with the group providing their share and hobbling away with their little dishes. Of those that he could notice, Halsin caught a raw, strong smell of grilled boar from the githyanki. Unseasoned and as simplistic as one could get, dripping with fats and the gamey taste of meat. In greater contrast, the sharran priestess had her own soup garnished with foraging that she did not share with the rest of the group. The milky gruel looked far more appetizing when spruced with flavors and herbal additives. Clearly, she was a little more civilized in palate compared to the rest of the group.

As for Halsin himself, simplicity is king. His meddling with the soup came from his personal pouch of spices and herbs, finding greater success in taste with a wider stash of ingredients not from this area. When coupled with a simple piece of bread to provide a base for the juices to soak in it became a delightful meal that mellowed one's body and soul.

"I admire everyone's own taste. For sure you can find enjoyment in the flavors meat brings, but I can always direct you to simpler alternatives." Halsin respectfully suggested. Meat was a picky subject, even back at the grove with the newer generation of druids. One must still respect that nature operates with those who eat meat and those who eat flora. It is merely a druid's choice to consume with moderation.

Though, even as he spoke his response, he could already anticipate the playful scoff from the vampire. Looking at him, Halsin noticed the lack of noise and the stupor made in its wake. Vacant eyes over a dancing fire.

The druid rested his right hand on Astarion's left shoulder, leaving his presence to slowly snap him out of those wandering thoughts while his voice cut through the silence to reach out.

"If you can remember the recipes, maybe you can treat me to a carnivorous meal someday. I'll do my best to rate it well, now." He chuckled, appealing to the beloved memories that troubled the vampire's mind.

Chitchat on their way back to camp wasn't unheard of. In fact, Halsin normally made a habit of it and Astarion mirrored the sentiment in kind. Instead of chopping up the stray branches blocking their path, the rogue would simply push them out of the way before they whipped back in place.

“What? You said I could take whatever I wanted when we met again in that little chamber of secrets of yours.” The very chamber Astarion had been looting when Halsin came by. “Well, I did. And look where it got us! I’m healing, and your strength has been restored. I see no finer arrangement anywhere from here to Baldur’s Gate.”

When in camp, the pale elf detached from his companion to brood over a book from Gale’s collection.

It was often that their local wizard would prepare something within Halsin’s dietary restrictions. And it was watching the burly elf dip a piece of grain bread in soup that Astarion started a conversation anew with his partner while eased sideways against the cushions piled next to his own tent.

“There was a time they expected all elves to be vegetarian. But I’m sure you, of all people, would remember that.” Thoughtfulness was stoked into smugness along with a smirk, his wounds all but healed now. “Not many of you left among the race… Vegetarian elves, I mean. Can’t say I’ve ever been one myself. I could never quite resist the taste of roast rothe ribs in the evening or ham cured in honey first thing in the morning.”

A far off look fell upon him when crimson shifted from the burly elf’s meal to the crackling campfire as memories drew near, and Astarion invited them nearer like an old friend. There were not plenty of those the vampire recalled, and the few he did he tried to hold on to. Like a charm or memorabilia.

#halsin #bg3 rp #sanguisarcana

[bakrahispul]

The ursine watched with casual interest. The hostility did not feel palpable, but the strangeness of the situation definitely forced some caution. The order was simple and clear, yet strange enough for the common peasant to simply consider running away.

And yet, despite this, the bard carried it out for him with quiet diligence. Admirable and amusing all at the same time.

Halsin's form raised his two stubby paws out, softly clapping the moment the removal of the third comb made itself clear. Quiet applause for the brave soul. The myriad of threats from the high-pitched bees whizzing around their words in a whirlwind were absolutely not nice at all, inciting danger if she took one more than she needed.

The slow descent from the tree and the approach from nearby was in silence with those beady black eyes trained upon the young woman with his prize. Stoic, yet calm, the brown bear reached out his left palm for the offering.

"One should never follow orders blindly."

It spoke again. Was this admonishment?

"However, kindness can and will be rewarded."

Keeping two of the honeycombs, the bear stacked them and kept it in its spacious maw. His paws weaved and snapped the final comb in two, letting its obsidian-colored claws buzz softly in a verdant light upon the yellow, honey-stuffed wax.

Offering the glowing piece, he stretched out his paw to offer the glowing piece, all while reserving the other half as a choice - though not one to be picked.

"Your efforts, rewarded."

His magicks did naught in harm except sweeten the raw honey into something more palpable for the human palate. Perhaps this was another test, given his earlier comment? Or perhaps this seemingly generous bear wanted to show his gratitude.

@bakrahispul from this

...New. This was new.

She wished she hadn't run out of Speak with Animal potions. They were a delight for any bard looking for uncommon inspiration, no doubt, and frankly were a peach for situations like this where you were trying to convey to the local wildlife that you just wanted some apples and were probably too skinny to eat.

She was aware most bears were hardly predatorial when it came to the mortal races, mainly due to the aforementioned skinniness. Not to mention fish and fruit were far easier and more pleasant fare...and honey. Granted the last tended to be guarded, but a bear's hide made it worth the trouble at times.

But not...today?

"Well, Lord Bruin...if...I'm understanding you right." Hopefully. "I had rather the same aim myself, but I'm quite happy to share."

It'd have made her dinner all the more pleasant, but sharing was preferable to dealing with an irritated bear. "Hold on a moment, then. If we're calm about this I might be able to avoid using fire and I imagine that'd make you feel better." Did the bear understand? Probably not, but as always talking made her feel better. She grabbed a sturdy branch and began to climb into the tree. The hive was inside a pleasant hollow, and if she just took a few capped combs it ought not to disturb the inner residents too much.

#halsin #bg3 rp #driftingjazzbard

[bakrahispul]

Hearing the familiar words was one thing, but seeing a familiar amulet out of the corner of his eye was a pleasant surprise.

'Twas a little keepsake, lost to him after some time living in the grove. A small amulet in dedication to Sylvanus was worn by one of the hogs as a decorative piece that was eventually assumed to be eaten or buried in the ground.

The last time he considered searching for it, Ormn was lumbering around with the scent barely within their reach. He knew those waterfall engravings as soon as his eyes laid upon them.

Like a little goblin, Astarion's kleptomanic tendencies really stoked Halsin's heart in ways he never expected. Even more so did his admiration grow having heard the simple enchantment from the vampire's lips. While it was not a hard dedication to remember words for a simple spell, the resourcefulness was much appreciated.

"Looting our home has certainly made the best out of this situation. It seems." He playfully joked, loosening his stiff form as the temporary relief gave him a more animated response to their trudge back home.

With the feel of the caress upon his cheek, Halsin's face nudged towards Astarion's left thumb, giving just a small, tender smooch as a sign of appreciation.

"I think I can walk independently from here unless you enjoy handling such damaged goods with great interest." Halsin answered back.

Trust? The sound of it was near foreign to the pale elf’s pointy ears, inviting a snort faithful to incredulity and packed in cynicism. With the way Halsin carried himself, far be it for Astarion to question his resolve. The druid was, after all, as stubborn as he was guileless.

“Good…” Trailing off, his gaze narrowed. “Well, since I half-expected you to push me off, you might want to take a seat for a spell or two. I may have overindulged a little.” Not enough to kill, but visibly enough to leave the burly elf dazed.

At the mention of camp, the vampire would have looked more enthusiastic if Halsin had spoken of the grove instead. It was, after all, a place he did not like with people he did not get along with. Rather like a feline who had no wish to be picked up, Astarion’s shoulders sagged and his pointy ears seemed to droop slightly as he looked off to the side, where the dead gith had collapsed onto the ground once Halsin’s concentration spell wore off.

“Eugh, suddenly the dead gith becomes quite the pleasant bedfellow.” Rummaging through his effects, Astarion ferreted out an amulet and replaced it for his misty step one. “Wait,” he seized Halsin by the arm. It took the pale elf a couple of minutes to attune to the damn thing before he could mutter a spell. Hands framed the archdruid’s face and Astarion touched their foreheads. “Here goes nothing…”

Vincere est vivere.

Normally, Silvanus wouldn’t have answered the vampire’s prayers.

This time, he did.

A Lesser Restoration spell, blessed by none other than the archdruid’s patron deity himself, slowly brought the colour back to Halsin’s cheeks and filled out those muscles with strength anew.

“How are you feeling?” Astarion’s voice landed like a caress, thumbs rubbing over the swell of his lover’s cheekbones where strays of burnt blond curled messily against. “Now, I’m normally not one to hand out kindness, but reaping, sowing,” Halsin, “all that.”

#halsin #bg3 rp #sanguisarcana

[bakrahispul]

The rush, the delight, the delicately crafted sexual aggression made for a fantastic feeling. Like a rush of vibrant emotions that let itself out in ropes as his release came forth. Halsin's energy surged, fueled by these feelings that gave rigidness to his movement. The focus was off the little vampire in this moment for him - centered entirely on the body that he claimed and let loose his own enjoyment upon.

Arms gripped; body pressed; hips glued. The erratic thrusts were powerful enough to bruise if received for too long. time seemed to stretch for every shot he gave, but the small cracks still showed.

The swift breath was taken in the lull of each thrust. The seizing of muscles against Halsin's rampaging climax. The intentional submissiveness lacked any fight against the druid's reaping of delight. Heightened senses could never forget the being he was making love to, even amidst the flurry of emotions that clouded his instincts.

The embers of lust died down slowly compared to its explosive rise. The druid's hand lost coordination through the strokes upon Astarion's manhood. The essence flowed and splattered the floor, littering it. Heat emanated from Halsin's body and spread itself upon Astarion's back, making it feel as though the body he made love to could be convinced that it was alive and that the heavy beat of his heart could work for two.

It could easily be seen as an accident, Halsin's body briefly gave out on him, losing the strength he had moments before as he unceremoniously relieved himself, separating his and Astarion's body as the poor elf was pushed against the floor, left like a discarded toy that quickly snapped the druid's senses back into order.

What surprised him was the lack of reaction. His beloved vampire was nimble and could easily pick himself right off...

...Yet, he couldn't even hold onto the tree to save his fall. his body lay there at the base, spent and melancholic.

"My...My love?"

Halsin panted heavily, crouching down, turning the cheek to find the soft shine of a tear streak.

"Did I wrong you?"

A gut wrenching sentiment seized his core when realisation dawned upon Astarion at just what it took to drive him closer to the edge. It wasn’t until Halsin’s grip had tightened around his neck and pinned him back against the expanse of that toned chest that his stomach tied in knots. It wasn’t until his throat closed and the threat of breathlessness loomed over him, along with a sting of pain, that Astarion could finally feel the pressure building.

In the most fucked up sense of awareness, when his spine ached from being bent and his backside stung from the assault, Astarion knew it was only pain or control that could get him off.

A tear tracked down the hollow of his cheek and his shoulders loosened with a sigh.

For once, the pale elf was thankful that Halsin wasn’t looking.

Faster, fuller movements not designed to cater to comfort set his mind into a static. The air felt dense... denser now, like his head was underwater. Sounds meshed and garbled, every sigh lost its edge and every breath was registered muffled. When Astarion’s body threatened to topple forth, Halsin’s hold fastened a tighter grip around him, keeping him afoot.

Loose, messy pulls jerked him off until ribbons of his own release shot forth and dribbled down his length, pooling around the nook where the archdruid’s hand met the vampire’s shaft. Halsin’s pulse came alive in his throat, quickened, and it was either force of habit or impounded years of practice that kept the pale elf going.

Astarion wasn’t trained to stop until his partner had found fulfilment.

#halsin #bg3 rp #sanguisarcana #tw; usft

[bakrahispul]

"Your name? Ah, well. That's simple enough for me, I think."

Playing dumb was a strong suit given his stature as a brute with a tender heart. Holding the vampire with ease slipped as every second flew by. The once-tight friction between their bodies loosened as the druid's heated frame rubbed with sweat produced from his own body. Cooled barely by Astarion's chilling skin, their motions worked to a near-state of perfection as the thrusts continued with increasing vigor.

Halsin's nape met a familiar feeling, though his mental preparation eased the stinging sensation. Clinging on like a parasite, his lover latched and wantonly glued their presence, nearly constricting his motions while he resumed their raunchy, barbaric motions. The echo of lust adrift in Baldur's wind sang a sultry song for the evening, composed with a druid and a vampire's body clashing like delicate instruments.

Their spirits were high. Their bodies were primed, and Halsin's emotions surged as violently as his own powers worked. Gentle illuminations of druidic markings flashed against his body, gilded like the sun that had etched itself on his prime body. Maintaining focus was difficult given the situation, but as long as his sights pinned themselves against the creature of night he knew he could resist the wild magic for enough time...

Buckling, the druid dropped the feeling of weightlessness for poor Astarion as he swiveled about, palming the vampire's manhood for safety as he pinned his stomach against the bark of the tree. Two opposing stimuli - that of the rigid bark and the bear-druid's wiry, warm chest. Propped upwards, Astarion's member ran comfortably within the grip of the druid, its advance halted with a thumb for a blockade. 'Rough' was no longer an understatement for the silver elf rammed against the tree.

"With all my heart and my loins..."

"..Astarion."

"I love you."

Laced in short love letters towards the vampire's left ear, the druid sang his adoration, pumping through each line in rhythm before the inevitable cram of his hips glued their waists together, sheathing that luscious manhood where the errant twitches chained for a release within.

Squashed by the tree and the druid, all while feeling the efforts of lovemaking through the ropes painted within, Astarion was spoiled with enough stimuli to leave one starry-eyed.

Astarion’s pupils edged away the crimson in those eyes, glazing over his centre of focus with a distant, bokeh effect. There was no shame in the shameless, no reservations either despite home being so close.

Only Halsin could manage to make even humiliation sound loving and sweet. It was in the way he handled the vampire’s body, in the warmth that laced his magnificent baritone when it tightened as his throat constricted around those words. My love rang so true, truer now that the edges where one began and the other ended were all but blurred.

That damned druid and his stamina were the stuff of legends.

So you have been holding back, a cocky smirk pulled at the corner of Astarion’s lips.

Before Astarion had the mind to wrap one of his hands around his cock, Halsin beat him to that chase, pumping him with locking circles of that massive wrist. Loosening his waist, the vampire ground his backside against his lover’s visceral charges, serpentine and sweltering. Instinct left his mouth agape to an onslaught of raw sounds and gruff, five-milliseconds sighs.

There was a weightlessness to his body– Halsin made it easy for Astarion to believe himself feather-light. It was as if gravity had lost its magnitude and the druid was the one to decide who was grounded and who would float. Craning his neck, Astarion latched on to Halsin’s nape in a tangle of burnt blond tresses and sticky sweat for leverage when the floor was pulled away from him on occasion. Nails dug into the druid's malt-whiskey skin and dragged a token of bloody welts in their wake.

“...m-my ah… name.” Astarion’s voice was dense, mouth crowded with his moans and fangs poking in display along with a low, sultry smirk. “Say it…” He purred, looking like a man standing on the edge of the world who didn’t care if the landing would shatter him.

#halsin #bg3 rp #sanguisarcana #tw; usft

[bakrahispul]

Her answers were satisfactory at best. It wasn't something she could control, nor something she could warn him easily about. Keeping an eye on her will be paramount. The evening felt safe enough at least - for it was not often that Aileen had a second bout of these horrid acts as far as Halsin knew.

The grave was shortly made in haste. The falling sun in the distance did not give much luxury for time as the druid buried the dead. Peaceful, like it never woke from its dream. The feathers plucked from its marred body were kept in a small satchel at its feet, while the body looked near presentable, what with Halsin cleaning up the most egregious effects upon it.

Aileen's flowers were placed once all the dirt had been returned, creating a gentle mound overlooking the hill with lively yellow flowers adorning it.

"Chrysanthemums. Flowers for the afterlife. I didn't know you picked the right flowers for the right job." He quietly spoke.

It might have been pure luck that she chose them, given the lack of teachings he gave her about the flora of this region. It might have been complete intention. Regardless, there was a body to mourn, and their last few minutes of sunrise were spent in silence before the trail back home.

The way back home was heavy. Not much could be said but the tension was palpable. Halsin's hand settled on Aileen's back, keeping a connection with her as they traversed all while maintaining his guard over her form. 'Twas like a weary caretaker coddling their young.

"I doubt you can remember much - but if you could enlighten me about your family's traditions, it may serve as a foundation for my studies on your plight." He spoke. Cold and collected with a dash of interest. Halsin tried to keep his presence amicable for the young lass. It would do her no good as an emotional mess if he acted distant at her most vulnerable moments.

Like someone who'd spent years with no agency over her own body, Aileen simply bowed her head and allowed the druid to cleanse her. In her experience, women were normally the ones who would handle that... but who was she to deny kindness?

Fair-skin was peppered with freckles like constellations, fiery locks framed her form- such a skinny thing that she was. Underfed not from recent struggles, but a short lifetime of starvation.

Once finished, the half-elf let out a breath as if she'd been holding it all along.

Without another sound, Aileen scooped the bird's body in her hands and followed suit until they reached a spot where the earth felt softer under her feet. Looking at her master for a sign, it was after his nod that she got down on her knees to begin digging the soil, where Aileen put the body of the bird to rest and covered it lightly.

Unsure what to do next, Aileen plucked flowers by the stem to weave a tiny garland and decorate the mound of freshly-turned earth with.

Aileen's father, or betrothed as the cultists would call him, often told her that different folk buried the dead over different reasons. Back at the temple they were placed in stone coffins within crypts.

"I... I have no control over myself when that happens, master Halsin." Aileen curled in as if half-expecting him to swat her over her own incompetence. Noticing the druid wasn't prone to violence, the redhead blinked twice as if in mild stupor. It took her a second to gather her train of thought back together and muster speech. "It's as if there was someone else pushing me aside... What I do, the words I say... Even my own thoughts don't seem like mine."

And the relief she felt each time there was blood on her hands was something Aileen had no wish to address.

"I'm afraid that I won't be able to tell you when it happens... I'm sorry."

#halsin #bg3 rp #prettylilfreak

[bakrahispul]

Recalling earlier events made her story a little easier. for sure there was a disturbance in the recent area around the grove. Even more so came from the sudden invasion of goblins and their enigmatic leaders. Bordering just beyond the blighted town made scouts uneasy with the uncomfortable distance.

Did the recent crash have connections to the goblin's appearance? Their nonsensical ramblings were certainly preaching towards a new deity. What was their new religion called? He could barely remember the name, but the faded memories were still there, somewhere...

"Your scent certainly reminds me of the sulfuric planes. I have no doubt of your origins. It would only be clear that you were a captive in the mindflayer ship, no?"

Unofrtunately, before she could even respond to his question there came a serrated sound of a rapier being brandished from its sheath. Gentle hums of inconceivable sounds emanated from the left hand of the newly-arrived individual.

The man's name eluded him, but the title was known well enough: the Blade of Frontiers.

With a furious stare and an even more furious sight of warlock magic swirling at his fingertips, the strange individual spat out his words like venom towards the tiefling and the unfazed druid.

"One horn. The stink of Avernus. Advocatus diaboli."

Their meeting must hold some sort of relation, no? Halsin's eyebrow raised gently at the scathing remark, crossing his arm as he let the warlock drone out his theatrics.

Violence will not start in his presence, but he was willing to let them speak out their differences if it meant easing the tension...

"I see that you've acquainted yourselves already!" Chuckled the druid, passing off the hostility that waved dangerously in the air through that shimmering, silver rapier.

A survivor, or an enemy? That very line was enough to set her on edge. Like any good soldier worth their weight, she felt her guard push right up. Karlach had little doubt that the reek of the hells still clung to her, and clung to her enough that anyone with a keen sense of smell would be able to place it immediately.

The soldier in her clamoured to read his body language. Hunted for anything that might resemble hostility, so she might turn tail and flee long before he had a second to wild shape or draw a weapon. No matter how hard she looked, she found nothing. Curiosity, maybe. An endless font of patience, but nothing to suggest that she was in danger.

Just as quickly as her haunches raised, they lowered. Little by little.

"I know enough," Karlach said, carefully. "Not the cause of it, but would you believe me if I said a mindflayer ship fell from the sky and spat a bunch of us out like spoiled berries?"

It was something that had felt a little larger than life to experience, never mind hear of, and she had toyed with the notion that she had died, and this was nothing more than the stepping stones to the fugue plane. That idea had quickly been eradicated, as the searing scorch of a struggling engine had reminded her that she was very, very much alive.

And very, very much looking forward to her eventual return to the city. Gods, she would get to see the friends she had left behind ( unwillingly, she was inclined to add ). Old haunts. The Blushing Mermaid and it's surprisingly decent beer.

The bushes rustled, and the tiefling's eyes snapped to the brush. Tieflings. Like her. Relief flooded through her, though it promised to be short-lived.

The Blade of fucking Frontiers.

"Oh... shit."

#halsin #bg3 rp #infernaliscor

[bakrahispul]

Hesitance came to Halsin's mind as his own words left his mouth. There was still a shred of uncertainty that he kept from Astarion, but despite the wriggling doubts that festered in the back of his mind, the amount of trust he held for the silver elf far outweighed the fears.

Just like the first time, the sharp chill was an unforgettable feeling. Far colder than the wintry seasons that make their stay upon these lands, Astarion's bite remained a constant - and the sudden, uncomfortable drag that sapped his soul came right after.

Halsin attempted to keep it cordial despite every nerve in his body reaching out to separate this creature from his essence. Faint grips with his arms settled on Astarion's right shoulder and waist, though to the vampire it felt more like a gentle embrace than weak resistance.

It was not enjoyable. Halsin tried to find the slightest sensation of delight amidst the pulling chill but it was hard to even let a single thought wander when his blood was drained. Numbing, the bitten site already lost its sense of feeling seconds into the feeding. Soft and shallow breaths escaped his throat, lacing Astarion's ear with a gradually colder warmth the longer he was fed upon.

Time passed eventually. The myriad of dulling thoughts and paralyzed motion helped draw out the quiet torture until his elf had his scrumptious fill. Halsin's eyes glued themselves to Astarion, keeping his focus on the silver beauty as the cue. It was over.

When presented with a question, his answer was dull silence. He needed to collect his scattered thoughts. his breath felt labored. His muscles felt like lead. His tongue sat like a brick in his mouth - and his eyes could only stared half-lidded towards Astarion as he waited for a response.

"I had trust..."

Simple words. Enough of an answer, hopefully. Halsin's left hand raised itself to brush against the vampire's renewed form, remarking the semi-pristine skin. A simple draw of those eyes allover Astarion's body confirmed his theory. Astarion could heal with blood at the expense of his own health.

"..Trust that you could control yourself."

His answer was fragmented, much like his own train of thoughts. It will take a short moment to recollect himself as he fetched Astarion's garments, faintly wobbling his grip. Did the vampire take too much? It was hard to tell.

"To camp. Now."

He was too stubborn to take a moment for his own rest. Safety was paramount, even when he was now in a worse condition than the wily elf he saved.

Astarion held his silence long enough to breed discomfort with the hitch of a sidelong smile at the druid’s remark. Almost long enough to be cruel.

“...I wouldn’t dream of it.” Unsettling.

Balming words meant to soothe did a lot more damage than healing. It was in the drawl of his remark, a hiss that teethered between the razor-thin edges of I want to fuck you and you look delicious tonight. 

“You did claim me as your lover after all,” a hand reached out to frame the cut of Halsin’s jawline. If his neck had been any slimmer, Astarion might as well have been cradling a chalice. “It would be quite rude of me to break your heart that way- your trust along with it.” Once the light of the druid’s healing waned, the vampire repositioned in such a way as to sit Halsin with his back against the tree and climb on top of his lap, straddling. “Trust, I hear, is a rare currency to come by these days.”

And while Astarion knew himself to have all of Halsin’s heart, he’d only returned a fraction of his own.

Fangs like shards of ice sharpened before sinking, an euphoric sensation of life seeping away from one and being shared with another that struck night intimate. Blood flowed in torrential currents into his mouth, its warmth kindling a flame within the vampire’s otherwise undead body that started at his gullet and pooled around his stomach. With enough of it, the blooming purple stamping his pale skin faded like evanescent smoke. And from looking like a beaten up corpse, Astarion improved to just– corpse. Pale, pretty and fresh from a silent, painless death.

It took conscious effort to will himself away from Halsin’s neck lest he gorged himself on a little too much blood. Even then, it was possible that the druid would be left reeling. He might have overindulged a touch, but only because Astarion was half-waiting for the druid to push him off.

But he didn't.

“You didn’t ask me to stop this time.” Astarion’s voice caught between a slurp and an indignation, hand coming up to do away with the blood trickling down from the corner of his chin to kiss it off his thumb. “Why?”

#halsin #bg3 rp #sanguisarcana

[bakrahispul]

Through will and fire, the druid's motions were deep and ridden with desire. His thrusts were wracked with a force that could only leave one's breath aching for more, knocking the wind out of their lungs even as they struggled to inhale.

Again and again. What had been a gentle echo through the chill air now became a salacious rhythm that even the lightest sleeper could hear nearby. Baldurans have slept through worse cacophonies, so perhaps it might have been entertaining to listen in.

Halsin watched the back arch and the resulting pressure shift. Enjoyable indeed. Like watching a cat purr when in the presence of pleasant stimuli. The little silver-locked vampire relished in it, but unfortunately, Halsin had a duty to uphold, and comfortability was at the bottom of his priority.

In response to the languid motion, Astarion's lithe frame was gripped, clamped by the very claws of the bear he unleashed. Once on all fours - now on two legs. The soreness of those knees had a moment of reprieve while Astarion was forced upright, experiencing brief little moments of flight as Halsin's superior frame speared upwards to lodge his manhood with an effort to connect their hips as one.

"Sadly I'm not clairvoyant, my love..."

Wrestled and wrangled, Halsin's hands snaked around the pale body, curling his palm and clamping his fingers upon the vampire's right teat - while his other hand snatched the twitching length that was suspended in the air as a result of every upward thrust, gripping and stroking to mimic those bestial pounds.

"I might need you to enlighten me on what I should say next."

Anchored upon that member, Astarion's legs dangled every other conscious second. His requests were honored, and Halsin hoped his lover could keep his words coherent even when he pulled out every trick he had.

Vessel of beauty?

Like the moon needed the sun to shine, Astarion’s delight looked a little brighter and plenty more obvious under the light of his love’s compliment. It was neither often nor enough that his beauty was ever voiced by the others– most settled with admiring him from a distance. But words had a power to them that a look alone couldn’t hope to uphold.

“Well then,” Winded, the euphoric glow within the crimson of his eyes could have outshined even the most manic of deities. “Consider this vessel a canvas and you, my love, its artist– honestly, you do realise it’ll all be gone by dawn, don’t you?”

The cinderella effect within him started with a first meal and ended with his last.

A rare, mythic fucking sight came into view– the dark cherry-wine that swam under the vampire’s skin coloured his cheeks in bliss’ sweetest hue. In their every shared night, it was the first the pallor of Astarion’s features saw so much as a hint of life. All thanks to the gallons of blood he’d imbibed from their enemies earlier into the evening and now, from Halsin’s ministrations.

It was a vision of the divine.

“Are you always– ah! This shameless… ugh– hah... w-with your lovers?”

Lust speared through his gut with the same brutal intensity Halsin pounded into him. Words quickly melted into a staccato of breaths and a string of unintelligible sounds that ranged from a series of shattered oh’s to Halsin’s very name fractured by the drawl of that otherwise smooth lilt. Astarion’s hips hitched and shivers spiralled all the way from tailbone to nape, pressing an arch into his spine which rendered his inner walls tighter around his lover’s pistoning cock.

“S-Say it…” For a creature who didn’t need breathing to survive, Astarion sounded like a man who had just surfaced from almost drowning. “Say it, damn it!” 

Whatever it was that the pale elf demanded derailed itself along with his train of thought after Halsin’s next buck, which did well to choke those moans out of him. Lips were raw and puffed out, glossy with spit and small vibrations filtered through his throat from the vampire’s sorry little attempts to keep breathing. All of his cynicism and smugness waxed into a pitiful look. It was almost sweet how his face dug into the grass and his body rocked back and forth with the druid’s savage thrusts.

#halsin #bg3 rp #sanguisarcana

[bakrahispul]

The goading was absolutely in good taste, though bringing out the druid's more savage side needed a little coaxing. Halsin's strength was immense and came without much restraint.

Pinned, gripped and positively manhandled, the silver-locked elf found himself carried almost like a toy against a surface. Raw strength surged from the burly druid simply for salacious means while the rhythm of lust kept those hips in a fluid state.

Grinding, thrusting, ramming. Each phase had its own spotlight, and the angling of Halsin's member between each ram came with a fervor that felt akin to worship.

Hands that gripped now shifted to Astarion's back. Sprawled and curling inwards, Halsin could feel the scarred markings of infernal writing. A permanent tag from his former master. He sought to let his fingers avoid much of the tissue, but unfortunately, he could not find precision in this flurry of sex.

Whether he wanted to or not, those elven claws scraped both normal skin and scarred tissue alike. Not enough to draw blood, but enough to set alight that soft, searing ridge of pain that could only be enjoyed in passionate, tantric moments like these.

"A mark? I'd rather not tarnish this vessel of beauty..."

Muttering, his words were slightly muddled as the gentle drip of sanguine fluid came from his lips. To feel and taste the iron of his blood was not enjoyable - but tolerable. Drinking blood was a hobby better left to Astarion as his burly elf boyfriend lapped his bleeding surface with his tongue, colouring the fleshy appendage in deep ruby before brushing it against the vampire's lips.

For a better change of scenery, the brief separation of their hips had Halsin dragging Astarion off the tree - and subsequently on all fours. Now left to face the moon alone, Halsin returned from the rear, reconnecting with a virile buck of his hips as his hand returned to grip those silver locks.

"...But I'm privy to a little bit of roughhousing."

Rough indeed, if the echoing slaps of their hips colliding like a key forcing itself into a lock was of any indication.

With an ache where Astarion hadn’t felt any in a while, his body tight with soreness and want, thighs hardened against Halsin’s flanks and cock bridged over his own stomach. Scarred back hitched up higher against the tree he’d been pressed to and adrenaline thinned the air scarce with their faces brought so close.

Self-destructive tendencies shone in full tilt.

Astarion breathed on a chuckle, riding on the back an ancient history of trauma and his crippling desire for the druid to love him and to ruin him. In that order. Because love was only ever delivered with savage intent before, and obsession was the closest to romance the vampire had ever gotten.

With a snarl half-formed, the building pressure from Halsin’s pistoning member put a knot in the pale elf’s gut.

“Maybe I do want you to leave your mark on me as I have left my mark on you every other night…”

Fingers threaded through locks of dirty blond and their lips were brought together almost furiously into a kiss. Upon parting, Astarion lived up to his promise and drew a bit of blood, scraping fangs against skin. A kiss with teeth… His voice rang equal parts faded and eager against Halsin’s kiss-burnt lips.

“I was promised claws.”

#halsin #bg3 rp #sanguisarcana #tw; usft

[bakrahispul]

Confirming his suspicions was a delight - but to have the vampire leech his essence then and there? Surprising at best!

To be fair, Halsin should have expected the response. If he was not right about his theory, then Astarion would have joked about the consented bloodletting, but seeing that eager elf nearly seize control with just the mention of blood was uncomfortable in the slightest.

It felt like there was a swift shift in mood. Not bad in any sense, but of a wounded animal snatching an opportunity that came right in front of it. Halsin felt the touch of his lover upon him, meeting halfway with the gesture as he kissed right back toward Astarion's approaching vampiric maw, feeling his own head tilt gently as that hand carefully positioned the exposed and clearly bulging neck vein.

Pulsing, throbbing. Rife with action after defeating an adversary. The blood was pumping hard, and that vein looked tantalizing for someone with sanguine tastes.

"Take as much as you would. Though leave enough for me to stand."

Ever generous even with the essence of his life, Halsin doled out the ground rules. Part of him understood the procedure - while another remained a little skittish that things may turn awry.

Did he have fears of Astarion losing control of himself? Well, he didn't have many cases to support the fact. He has offered himself before, but the circumstances now are different.

"I can only pray that my words can keep you focused. I do not know what trance you'll be dragged into, but I know how uncontrollable a hungry animal feeds."

It was not meant to be a slight, calling Astarion an animal, but in this moment, Halsin could find those wild eyes strangely honed in, as if his words might as well go in one ear and out the other...

Halsin's body shifted and prepared itself. The gentle hum of his hands healed the remaining wounds before dissipating. Bloodletting will surely drain him of his own magical prowess after and conserving enough to return to the camp was his next objective.

"Go on."

"Do I often look like an ale-soused sod to you? Because here I was aiming for wine-drinking connoisseur." Sarcasm.

Perhaps the archdruid hadn't yet been aware of the full extent of Astarion's dietary restrictions, but wine, beer and vodka all tasted like varying degrees of vinegar in his mouth. Not having rubbed shoulders with vampires before did leave plenty of room for ignorance to fester it seemed... the most selfless kind too.

"While the concern is appreciated, unless I'm trying to pass off as an ordinary elf, Halsin, I don't normally make a habit of indulging in spirits." Astarion delivered without a trace of dishonesty clinging to his voice. "And, if curiosity ever takes you as to my version of wasted, help yourself to three bottles of wine and let me drink from you. That should do it."

With neither threat nor resistance posed when the druid did away with his armour to place a hand on top of that gaping wound, healing the pale elf was no hard task. The warmth that emanated from those medical hands felt cathartic, like soaking in lukewarm waters during a cold day. Slowly did the ugliest of his damage heal, unravelling the knots of stress tightening the vampire's wingspan.

Despite the watercolour stamp of undeath that eternally darkened into circles around the Astarion's eyes, the battleground of bruises that had become of his skin devolved into a field of minor injuries. There was affection poured into the archdruid's healing touch- a devotion that was both endearing, as well as a fatal virtue.

"Oh? The tease that you are..." Astarion's little attitude problem dwindled into appreciation, altogether fading once his lover offered him blood. "Far be it for me to turn you down on such a delicious offer." A hand reached over to caress the side of Halsin's neck and frame its nape, urging him close enough for their lips to touch. "You'll tell me when to stop... won't you? It's just far too easy to get lost in your taste when we do this." Words where the marriage of ominous and sensuous took hold.

Astarion made the horror of his love sound so sweet when wrapped in silk.

#halsin #bg3 rp #sanguisarcana

[bakrahispul]

"Alright... calm down. Your tree, got it." The bard frankly thought she was getting a good opportunity to replenish her supplies with some fruit and of course there was a bear now. Fabulous. "I'll just be... backing away."

While cautious, there was not much else to fear from the lumbering giant that was the brown bear. With that round pudgy face and adorably round ears, it sort of 'looked' friend-shaped, despite all the hectic warnings from many travelers advising others to flee madly.

It approached with a slow stop, settling to sit on its rear legs as its stature nearly doubled in height, exposing the daunting size it truly held. Still, it gave an amicable presence. Though, one must not be too complacent, now.

With those eyes staring down at the bard, it gave her a knowing stare - then back at the softly rumbling bee's nest upon the tree she harvested - then back at her.

Was it...asking her to harvest the nest for honey?

[bakrahispul]

Attentive as ever, the wood elf carefully repositioned the snuffed life off towards the side, turning the sickly green body until it looked no more different than a githyanki youth taking a dirt nap. Even in death, he took respect, no matter the consequences that came to be for this unfortunate soul.

Onwards to Astarion's bloody fit, Halsin's hands came and settled at the injured vampire's waist. Deft fingers came to unbutton and unzip the garments enough for those rugged hands to slip underneath and feel the cold, undead skin.

His left sprawled its palm against Astarion's belly, while his right cupped his cheek, forwarding Astarion's weight unto him as he gently knocked foreheads with the sputtering babe.

"Only when matters must be forced should a life be traded. We can question their actions, but we'll never know the motives that led it, now that they have passed." He explained to Astarion - as if he'd ever acknowledge or remember his nonsensical ramblings.

Even as he taught him lessons in morality, the archdruid peppered his face with a handful of tender nuzzles.

As for his motions? The hand upon Astarion's belly buzzed and gently emanated a peculiar warmth against the frigid skin. Like a radiating pulse of summer heat, its outward waves hitched and clung toward the injured points hidden deep within Astarion's body. Each icy breath taken felt just a little more melted, but the source of pain still remained.

"I can only patch the wounds, but this shall keep you on your feet until you get proper rest." He advised, giving a playful pinch towards Astarion's left cheek with his right hand.

"-Of course, that means no alcohol. Only filling meals and bed rest."

Though, at the question of acquiring blood, Halsin thought it over. Vampires need it, don't they? Does it provide regenerative properties? If it could expedite his recovery then perhaps it was a worthy solution. The only problem tacked upon it was where one could find a reliable source...

"-And if needed, you can use my blood."

He'll have to take notes on this. Any knowledge is good knowledge.

"Now, stay still for a few moments until you can tell me that you can't feel a searing stab when you breathe. We'll head to camp once that happens."

There will be no burial for this poor githyanki. Halsin had more important matters to attend to.

Blood looked darker in this light, spilling from his lips in torrential flow after the druid ensnared the young gith in one of those magical vines of his. It was often that Astarion heard of an elf's connection to nature, but the only connection he's ever felt was when he stood beneath the sun. Basking in the warmth of his glow like a lover's embrace.

It was hardly the time to reminisce about sunlight.

"Playing?" Astarion's voice caught on a high pitched crescendo, features descending into disbelief. "But of course... Because martyrdom suits me just about as much as selflessness suits Lae'zel." The bite of his sarcasm was like the kiss of a dagger, cold and sharpened to a fault.

Before the pale elf could deliver any more of his caustic wit, his body seized and convulsed into a coughing fit. Lungs seared and ribbons of gore, lining his teeth and strung to the cradle of his palm, signalled an internal haemorrhage that might soon spell his end. Another cough bubbled out, more blood glided off his chin and the pain turned visceral. Blinding.

"Oh, you can't be serious..." Astarion's voice was raw, head falling back against the bark of that tree and lolling to the side as he grappled between a desolate laugh and grunts of pain. "Since when was mercy an option? He almost killed me, Halsin. And if your moral compass needs a direction to point at, I'd wager he was aiming towards those in camp next."

Hell hath no fury like a youth who had just lost his family.

#halsin #bg3 rp #sanguisarcana

[bakrahispul]

Their little trek was carefully tailored. Within the densely packed forest, specks of light littered the floor through the myriad of holes that the leaves and branches couldn't obstruct fully. Even as they walked the druid kept his ears on alert. They definitely didn't comically twitch if something suspicious came by, of course.

Upon hearing her question, he palmed his chin, pondering the best response.

"I'd say the better word to describe it is a 'sanctuary'. Perhaps a haven? Hidden from external forces, the emerald grove is a home for all should their weary souls come close."

The wording of it felt strange. As expected for druids and their customs - every sect was different than the rest, and the soft undertone of xenophbia still existed even in the most comforting spaces...

"-That is, what I've been made to enforce. While asylum is open to those who seek it, I'd rather have it in a manner so that asylum is open to those who know of it."

In other words, an open-door policy, from his words. It's certainly hard to persuade many to have that mentality when danger walks just a short hop away in this particular area.

Halsin's words came as easily as his body accommodated to accentuate it. Small, soft waves and gestures with his hands showed his attention to the matter, but more so did it perfectly depict his rather robust structure. It was strange to find a wood elf with such a defining build. Perhaps it was another question to ask at another time.

As they neared a flowing stream, he pointed upwards to take note of the man-made bridge up above. Off to the bottom was a peculiar lair with obvious tracking for a dangerous creature, and to the right was a cleared path running alongside the bridge.

"I've only heard of one particular faction in the southern reaches. Thankfully I don't recognize your attire to fit their fashion choice." Halsin chuckled, seeming relieved as he responded to her little comment.

"From the whispers across the clouds, I've come to understand that a growing threat is making a nasty presence in these lands. Most of our fellow kin have taken to keeping their own skin intact, and so the scarcity of their presence among the forests they should tend to is the reason for your observations."

He fetched out a small little pendant from his pocket, taking a few strides to pause underneath a rocky outcrop, hidden from sight as he unraveled the piece from a murky-coloured cloth.

"They call their fanatical deity as 'The Absolute'. Have you encountered this before?"

Crude and simplistic, a skull adorned with ruby lines upon its face sat in front of a triangular base. A mark for an undead god? or perhaps something more...

"Oh," she said, her voice betraying her surprise at Halsin's unexpectedly kind offer to accompany her. She was grateful for his consideration as she realized she wouldn't have to resort to her usual makeshift campsites hidden behind dense overgrowth for the night. "Yes, of course. Thank you."

With her meal finished, she swiftly gathered her belongings, ready to depart from his campfire. She was more than happy to be rid of the heat of the flames. As she waited for Halsin to finish his preparations, she raised her hands, conjuring water to douse the flames carefully, ensuring no stray embers could pose a risk to the surrounding area.

As Halsin led the way, she couldn't help but steal glances at the elf, noting the imposing figure he cut against the backdrop of the forest. Halsin towered over her, emphasizing her petite frame, creating an almost comical height difference between them. She herself, being on the smaller side for a half-elf, couldn't help but feel a twinge of amusement at the contrast between them. Despite the incongruity, she felt a sense of comfort in his presence as they ventured deeper into the woods.

Curiosity bubbled within her, and she couldn't resist voicing her thoughts aloud. "So, your shelter," she mused aloud, curiosity piqued. "Do you have a cozy cottage tucked away somewhere? Or do you live among others?"

There was a hint of longing in her voice. Perhaps, she mused silently, Halsin hailed from a community akin to her own—a sanctuary where druids like them found solace amidst the wilderness. The prospect of finding herself among her own kind again filled her with both hope and trepidation. Despite her reluctance to admit it, she was homesick.

"It's been some time since I met another druid on my travels," she admitted softly, as she reached up to gently untangle her small squirrel companion from her tousled curls. "I was starting to wonder if there were none left in the southern forests of Faerûn."

#halsin #clara eternal #bg3 rp

[bakrahispul]

In that state of unbridled rage and fury, age did not matter to the level of animosity in that small body. Child or not, only a good goblin was a dead one, and with that in his head, the ursine rampaged in the ensuing chaos.

The ranger's efforts were made with the distraction that the hefty bear made, barreling through the scattered group of goblins as he barred the path to reach the warg pens from the guards. flimsy, dung-coated arrows and serrated blades will do their best against the thick skin, but with enough adrenaline, the towering brown bear will rampage until satisfied.

Rearing on its hind legs, the resulting crash was enough to disorient the charging guards. The momentary slip of footing was enough to snag one by the throat through a flying knife that made a sickly connection with the puke-green flesh.

With one caught and the other about to be trampled, the brown bear crashed its weight upon the helpless victim using their body to break the pressured fall. A multitude of bones cracked and uncomfortably groaned upon impact, leaving pain to dance around the poor goblin's body before death took them swiftly.

The warg pens were positively rife with noise. The beasts watched their masters die - but looked more ravenous at the fact that the now-available meat was not being offered to them. The fickle alliance seemed to disappear when food came into question at least.

The combat ended as swiftly as it began, though safety was still not guaranteed if they were deep within the heart of the encampment. Halsin's form was weary, but he could maintain his presence until they escaped. There was no need to enlighten his student, and so pushing forward was the best course of action.

Again the voice returned to her mind, rolling on its words with a deep hum.

"Escape. Quietly."

The only indication that Morren had heard his words was an almost imperceptible dip of her head. She wasn't going to argue. They both needed to get out of here.

Luckily for her the goblins had been careless when stripping her of her weapon. They didn't realise she had a knife hidden in her boot, placed there so she was not totally defenceless without her bow. Their oversight was about to be their undoing.

When the gate crashed down, Morren was quick to yank it from her boot and surge forwards. Her bonds were easily sliced open and she then reached for the first goblin she could. One of the youngsters. She had managed to grab them by the hair and lifted them off their feet as they kicked and shrieked.

Morren didn't want to kill children, even goblin children, but she knew letting them live was too much of a risk. Esca always did accuse her of having a soft heart. All they had to do was run screaming into the main camp and she and her bear friend would be dead. If they were to get out of here then that could not happen and so the children would have to be silenced too.

At least she could make it quick and painless.

She drew the blade across the child's throat and their shrieks turned to a gurgle in a spray of bright red blood and then stopped. Morren dropped the body and had to repress the shudder of horror and revulsion that ran up her spine. Her hands were now stained with innocent blood both literally and metaphorically.

The guards shouted a war cry as they charged forwards and Morren had to snap herself out of her spiraling thoughts. She whipped her hand back and threw her knife with as much force as she could muster. One of the guards gripped at his throat as her knife embedded itself in his neck. Morren continued forwards, gripping its handle as he slumped to the floor and ripping it free.

#halsin #bg3 rp #wolf eyes wolf soul