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souredfigs · 20 days

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A lot of people are fascinated by Harrenhal and its ghosts and I get that but bro WINTERFELL AND THE EGGS IN THE CRYPTS??

Winterfell and how it was constructed in general is so fascinating , like its always described in chapters as a living organism , that deep hot springs run through the castle like blood through a person's body , then there is the weirwood tree and the immense magical power it itself holds as a sort of root of the castle and the point upon which Bran can see through the past , the present and the future .

Then the crypts , the freaking crypts which are larger than Winterfell itself and as you descend into the lower levels they become increasingly dark and old and a giant portion of it which hasn't seen the light of the day in thousands of years is collapsed and totally inaccessible , there are swords of the Kings of Winter which are there in order to keep something contained like the souls of the deceased ,not to mention the fact that Bran and his clique actually took some of them on their way ? The giant spiders and rats the size of dogs old nan talked about and how the crypts go from bottom up , with the recent burials at top and the oldest at the bottom which has kind of never been explained ?

But perhaps the most exciting thing about the crypts is Mushroom's account about Jacaerys Targaryen's Vermax laying a clutch of eggs in the crypts near the supposed hot springs , and the immense significance that has to the story of ice and fire itself

Like the Starks and Targaryens give us many of our main characters in the books , they are the two oldest families in Westeros , so old that their origins are intertwined with legends and myths, and magic is heavily involved in their families . We saw in Hotd the state secret info Viserys gives to Rhaenyra about the Song of ice and fire and Aegons dream about the long night and theres this implication that Torrhen Stark bent the knee becuase Aegon told him about this dream , that to defend the living there must always be a Stark in Winterfell and a Targaryen in the South, becuase winter is coming and without these two houses Westeros and probably the rest of the world are cooked? Then during the reign of Jaehaerys I Queen Alysanne goes to Winterfell and gives support to the nights watch and befriends Alaric Stark .

And then decades later her descendant Jace goes to Winterfell (and as the hotd trailer shows , also goes to the Wall!!!) and he forms such a great bond with Cregan Stark that they make a pact of ice and fire sealed in blood , likely before the weirwood tree in mix of both Valyrian and Northern tradition , with Jace agreeing to marry his firstborn daughter to Cregan's heir , then Jace later dies in the gullet but Cregan honours their pact by carrying out Justice in the hour of the wolf and making sure Jace's little brother ascends the throne .

AND THEN A CENTURY AND A HALF LATER RHAEGAR AND LYANNA GET TOGETHER AND KNOWINGLY OR UNKNOWINGLY FULFILL THAT PACT , AND NED KNOWINGLY OR UNKNOWINGLY HONOURS THIS PACT BY TAKING IN THEIR SON JON SNOW, THE LITERAL EMBODIMENT OF ICE AND FIRE , AND MOST LIKELY THE PRINCE THAT WAS PROMISED TO LEAD THE BATTLE FOR THE DAWN .

AND HOW JON CONSISTENTLY DREAMS ABOUT THE CRYPTS MORE THAN ANY OTHER STARK CHILD? AND HIS MOST LIKELY RESURRECTION IN TWOW WILL HAPPEN IN THE WALL , WHICH, APART FROM THE CRYPTS IS THE MOST MAGICAL PLACE IN THE NORTH IN A WESTEROS WHERE MAGIC HAS AWAKENED WITH WITH A FORCE NOT SEEN SINCE THE DAYS OF OLD VALYRIA ? RIGHT AT THE TIME WHERE THE OTHERS ARE AT THE DOOR ?

DO YOU SEE HOW DEEP THIS SHIT GOES?!

#this is literally the tip of the iceberg theres soooo much #LIKE WTH DAWG #LOSINGD THE MINF #Im so ready to see jace and cregan and brokeback winterfell #and winds of winter and how the crypts will come into play becuase they have a tON of importance in the books #brans pov chapters are going to be so good i just know it #im so ready #house of the dragon #cregan stark #jacaerys targaryen #winterfell crypts #the long night #winds of winter #I fucking love the starks if you couldnt tell #when winds of winter comes out you best believe I will sleep with it under my pillow #like Alexander the Great with his favourite copy of the Iliad #jacegan #hotd season 2 pls do not be bad #im literally yapping im sorry lol

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britishassistant · 1 month

Text

Setting The Tempo

You are exhausted.

Turns out, falling through the cracked floor into a crypt is not the way you wanted to spend this morning. Nor is attempting to fight the treasure hunters who decided to kill first, ask questions never. Especially once you realized that the people with you are only highly skilled at fighting solo.

You shudder at the memory of seeing the firebolt leave Gale’s fingers and hit the grease covered floor. Which you all were standing on.

Even now, your clothes smell faintly of char.

And then, after somehow finishing off your attackers, the four of you have spent the rest of the day entirely lost inside this place.

It’s all very well to know every square inch of the place is trapped and all the doors are locked when you have nothing to disarm or unlock them with. And the one door you did manage to unlock? With the one set of tools you found that didn’t immediately break inside the lock? Led to a room of skeletons that decided being dead was less fun than trying to get you to join their number.

You don’t even know what set them off! Astarion was just leaning against a wall, lost his footing for a moment, and then you were facing a horde of undead!

You all got as far away from that room as you physically could before setting up camp.

At least the room you’ve found is somewhat spacious. Enough that everyone can set up their tents a fair distance from each other and still have room to spare. You’ve circled the perimeter a few times, and found no hidden entrances or enemies that could take you off guard. A few small antechamers, but they only open onto the main room. All is made of that same thick stone keeping you trapped here, so unless an orthon escaped the Hells and is hiding somewhere in the bowels of this place and decides to engage in some recreational wall flattening, you should be able to rest unmolested.

Ha ha. Ha.

By the gods, you wish you were hyperbolizing.

You duck behind a pillar to tug on something a little more comfortable than the leather jerkin you’ve been stuck in for the last forty eight hours.

You’d sworn you’d never forgive Trappola for making you announce yourself as “Saer Daisy Fluffington the Third” at the last inn to receive this pack of supplies. You’d doubled down once you’d seen the “bard appropriate attire” he’d selected.

Right now though, when you’re pulling on a cotton shirt and pants that feel as light and fluffy as clouds compared to your battered armor? Shoes worn to softness that ease the blisters on your feet? Not to mention fresh undergarments?

You wouldn’t be opposed to committing murder if the ginger punk needed you to, is all you’re saying.

You try and give your armor and boots a rudimentary wash with the carafe of water you’ve scavenged. The leather and cloth doesn’t look too much cleaner by the time you’re through, but hopefully it’ll mean some of the smoke smell dissipates once it dries.

You spot Gale standing by the fire. Maybe he knows some of those cantrips that make cleaning easier? Prestidigitation, perhaps? Worst he can say is no, or that he’s all out of energy for the day.

You amble over, mouth opening—

“Go to Hell.”

You stiffen on instinct, your lip curling. “And a good evening to you too.”

Gale lets out a wry laugh.

“Glad to know you’re a good sport.”

You’re really not sure what in your tone communicated that to him, but you’re not going to start a fight after everything you’ve been through today.

He resumes staring at the fire, a solemn set to his brow.

“‘Go to Hell.’ An everyday expression. So trivial it’s almost meaningless. But we’ve been to Hell. It’s real. And it isn’t trivial.”

You say nothing.

“Devils, dragons, mind flayers— they used to be abstracts. Pictures on a piece of paper.” Gale mutters. “What a difference a day makes. Now we have tadpoles slithering through our heads like carnivorous foeti.”

He looks to you, beseeching. “That’s not abstract.”

Perhaps you should take a gentle touch. Be the soothing reassurance he so clearly wants you to be.

But you’re tired and you’re sore and you’d rather say what you’re actually thinking for once before you go mad.

“Abstract or not, by now it’s kind of academic.” You spread your hands wide. “Brooding will get us nowhere. Action will.”

The wizard’s brow furrows, and his head tilts slightly to the right.

“The ballet of flames invites reflection. But, you’re right. Let’s be up with the lark—find a healer before the wee one gets hungry.” He smiles at you.

You nod. “Best plan I’ve heard all day. Good night, Gale.”

He preens slightly at that, preparing to turn away and head to his tent.

“Oh, and Gale?”

“Hm?” He looks back at you.

“Next time, I’d advise against using that line on anyone who lived through the Descent of Elturel.” You lean in, conspiratorial. “Hardly the most pleasant associations.”

The wizard actually blanches, a wave of emotion sweeping across his face.

You give him a tight smile as you turn, making a beeline for the stone door to the antechamber you’d noticed earlier.

A large hand clamps down around your elbow, jerking you to a stop.

“What were you two talking about?” Shadowheart asks, with feigned nonchalance that belies the steel in her grip.

“What do you mean?” You reply.

“You, and Gale.” Her hold tightens as you try to gently pull away. You can feel how much stronger she is than you.

How easily she could wrench your arm from its socket, if she so chose.

“We were just discussing next steps.” Your jaw is clenched as you smile. “It’s important we’re all on the same page, after all.”

“I see.” She tilts her head forward, exhaling slightly through her nose. Then she says, “I’d be careful with Gale. All wizards care about power, and there’s very little they won’t do to get it.”

You can’t help the small snort that escapes you. “I was hardly confiding in him. Besides, he’s as involved in this as we are. No harm in just talking.”

“So am I.” She holds up her free hand, as if to soothe you. “If we’re to survive, we need to trust each other.”

“Really.” You eye her hand on your arm. Pointedly.

“Yes, really.” Shadowheart breezes onward, “You seem reliable. I think you know how important it is that we find someone who can cure us. Best to focus on that.”

“Why, how bizarre!” You exclaim in mock astonishment. “Gale was just saying the exact same thing! It’s almost as though the others in this camp have the same priorities we do.”

She scowls at you, doing that odd little exhale again. “Just—! Mind who you associate with. It may come back to bite you, if you’re careless.”

“Fine. Now, if it pleases you,” You say in your most sickeningly sweet voice. “I’m afraid I must excuse myself to climb inside a tomb, curl into a little ball, and gibber my merry way into madness so that we can set out at first light in a timely manner. If I’ve your permission?”

Shadowheart’s lip curls but she lets your arm go, dismissing you with a toss of her braid as she makes her way back to her tent.

You pull a face at her back, then when you notice Astarion smirking at you, stick your tongue out at him too for good measure.

Finally, you heave open the door to the tiny antechamber you discovered earlier, pulling it shut behind you.

You spare a moment to go around the room, lighting the dust-covered torches.

Then you crouch down in a corner behind a sarcophagus, and try to scream into your hands as quietly as possible.

After a guilty two minutes of indulging in that luxury, you bite your tongue to force yourself silent.

That’s quite enough of that. You won’t get anywhere if you keep just reacting like you have so far, or let yourself get overwhelmed by it all. You need to get your brain to stop panicking and think.

Action over brooding.

It’s the only way you’ll survive.

Okay. So.

1. You have a mind flayer tadpole in your head.

2. You are trapped in a set of dark and musty ruins with three strange adults.

3. All of these adults, over the course of the short time you’ve known them, have shown a remarkable capacity for violence with very little provocation. They’re certainly more capable in combat than you, with your purloined crossbow and flute.

4. These strangers are all also implanted with a mind flayer tadpole, just like you. Though, you will admit, their survival and your own is…odd.

5. All the kidnapped thralls on that ship, many instantly killed in the crash, if not by the creepy little brains on legs after the fact. And yet you and these three adults somehow survive? How? Why you? Why them?

6. One of whom begged you to let her out of her pod, only to grow cold when she realized you weren’t alone. The other two who both admitted they were watching you as you tried to escape. If it’s a coincidence, it’s an odd one. But they all seemed to be as unknown to each other as they are to you. Unless they’re not?

7. They could all be in cahoots! And spies for the Order of the Companion or the Hellriders! You don’t know! You don’t know anything about these people!!

8. You can’t sleep because if you sleep one of them will try to kill you or the others or tie you up and use you in some creepy evil deity summoning ritual or send you back to Avernus again or they’ll turn into a mind flayer and suck out your brain or you’ll turn into a mind flayer and—

9. you can’t breathe

10. You can’t breathe.

11. You’re panicking too much. You can’t breathe. This is all a big fuss over nothing. You can’t breathe. Your thoughts are going into a corkscrew. You can’t breathe, you need to get ahold of yourself, you can’t breathe, you need to do something, you can’t breathe you need help you can’t breathe you need you can’t breathe you need—!

You lurch forward, seizing a discarded piece of masonry and dragging it into your lap.

You try to focus on the cold weight crushing your legs and stomach, try to recapture that distant memory of your heart slowing, of your mind clearing, of feeling safe.

Instead, you just feel like you’re hugging a rock as you struggle for air.

Alone.

You only drop off when your body finally succumbs to exhaustion.

Your sleep is fitful and brief, and you wake in the wee hours of the morning.

In the cold dark before dawn, you feel deep embarrassment at your histrionics last night.

So what if these adults could easily kill you? You used to manage violent thugs just like them on a daily basis. Just because you don’t have the shield of a desk doesn’t mean this has to be any different.

Hells, the fiasco that was the fight yesterday is proof enough none of them knew each other prior to this. So they’re likely to be as confused and panicked as you are. Maybe even more.

You can work with that. The Descent taught you that you excel under pressure, rallying disparate arseholes together around the common cause of ‘not dying horribly’.

And if they really are plotting together to capture you and return you to Elturel…

Well.

You now have an illithid tadpole in your head. You haven’t lived this long without learning how to leverage what little you’re given to your advantage.

First things first, you need to list the facts, set some actionable goals. Properly, this time.

First, escape this ruin. There was a locked door past all the trapped sarcophagi which might be promising if you can get to it. If you can’t disarm the traps, can you get around them somehow?

Second, find a healer/other specialist who can extract this parasite. Your alien warrior was adamant it could be done once you all reached the material plane. It’s up to you now to find out how.

Third, ensure the three violent adults don’t kill you, kill each other, or run off. They may be dangerous, but you’ve a much higher chance of surviving with them than without. Even if that means navigating the volatile group tensions that have already begun to spark.

Fourth, and only to be enacted once you’re all safely cured, is to extract yourself from these weirdos as swiftly as you can with the least amount of bad feeling possible. From there, you can make your way to Baldur’s Gate.

If you can meet up with the group of tiefling refugees you heard about on the way or once you’re in the city, so much the better.

Your original plans aren’t ruined. You’re still going to become a bard. You’re just taking a—a detour, is all. Yes.

You’re doing this.

You’ve got to.

Of course, to that end, you need to make sure they don’t abandon you at the next sign of trouble. Given that they seem to attract fights like vinegar attracts flies, you can admit that a noncombatant who isn’t even a bard yet is more of a hinderance than a help.

So you need to make yourself useful. If not liked, then tolerated. Someone who can give them all what they want most, or at least facilitate matters in their favor. Trade an attentive ear and problem-solving for protection.

Your journal is still in your pack, but you still have half a pot of ink and a quill that’s mostly intact. Once you stop to make camp again, it’ll be easy enough to dedicate three pages to your current companions’ quirks and preferences.

You’re already thinking of semi-discrete titles for each of them as you heave yourself up and stumble over to the door, limbs stiff from a night on the cobbles.

“Wizard of Waterdeep” is nice and alliterative, easy for you to associate with Gale. You deeply appreciate how easy he’s made it for you.

Astarion…hasn’t actually told you what his profession is yet, so until you can ask him and come up with something catchy, “The Pale Elf” will have to do.

Shadowheart…is tricker still. You know she’s a cleric, but you don’t know of what deity, or much else about her. “The Conniving Cleric” is far too heavy-handed. “Lady of Faith”, perhaps? Or maybe—?

“Wha’re you stomping ‘round for?!” Comes the grumpy voice from the tent of the woman in question as you poke your head around the door. “‘S dark. ‘S still night. ‘S sacred. Lemme sleep.”

You sidle out and back over to your pack as quietly as you can while whispering, “Sorry, sorry!”

There’s a grumpy noise and a muttered oath against you that you can only partially make out.

Fuck it.

“Daughter of Darkness” it is.

#baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #bg3 #tw panic attack #panick attack #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #shadowheart #bg3 shadowheart #astarion #barely but he’s here #bg3 tav #villainous paranoiac yuu #ace trappola #based on my playthrough #where Gale made everyone fall into the crypt and then I had to long rest there because I got lost and fought too many guys #yuu has a bad time

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