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#i have so much to say about lae'zel but i could not possibly put it all here while making this bite sized and digestible
venvellan · 9 months
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astarion approves of mean choices, fandom cheers
lae'zel approves of mean choices, fandom booing
yall actually love mean characters AND you love citing their trauma to defend them. but you treat one of these people like a silly quirky murderboy and the other like she doesn't deserve basic respect
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avocado-writing · 4 months
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I love love love your bg3 writing so much. I'm so glad i found your blog.
if you're comfortable writing about marriage, could you write the companions (minus lae'zel) reactions to a githyanki Tav proposing? like, Tav has done research into material plane customs and what marriage entails and has decided they want that with their love.
thank you if you do!! ♡♡♡
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Astarion
A little baffled when he sees you get down to one knee so sincerely, thinking you can’t possibly be about to propose. That’s not a thing githyanki do is it? Gods, he should have asked Lae’zel…
Eyes widen when you produce the ring. Dead heart skips.
Is utterly bowled over that this is happening. That anyone would think he was worth proposing to, especially wonderful you.
You start a spiel about why you think you’d be a spouse he should consider, usual githyanki directness, and he cuts you off - “you don’t need to convince me, my sweet. The answer is yes. It’s always yes.”
You slide a ring onto his finger and he watches the way it sparkles.
You must have saved up for ages. He never thought he’d be deserving of something like this, but is going to try and see himself through your eyes from now on.
Gale
As you drop to a knee, he’s sorting through every piece of information in his head that he knows about githyanki, because you can’t possibly be about to —
Just stares for a moment when you bring out a ring. He sees your brow furrow.
“you are displeased.” Him, quickly, “no, no! Far from it! I’m just… surprised.”
”why would you be surprised, Gale? You are the most treasured thing in my life, and I believe this is how people in Faerûn seal that bond.”
He’s reduced to speechlessness at your sincerity. All he can do is nod and put on the ring, allowing you to scoop him up in your arms and kiss him over and over ❤️
Karlach
The second you drop to a knee she says yes.
“Karlach I believe I am meant to ask the question first—” “sorry, I got overexcited! do it properly then.”
”… will you marry m—“ “YES”
She grabs you and pulls you into her embrace, holding you in a bridal carry and kissing you deeply.
“Would you like to see the ring?” “There’s a ring too?!”
She’s so happy, man. You’re certain you’ve never made a better decision in your life.
“I researched into what gem would be preferred in a ring, and measured your gloves to get the size correct.” “You did all this for me? 🥹” “Karlach, you are worth moving the stars for.”
She goes around the camp showing off her ring. She can’t stop smiling all day ❤️
Shadowheart
Raised eyebrows when you kneel.
“Hmm, I wasn’t aware that githyanki knew of marriage.” “I didn’t. I read up about it. But I suppose if you’re against it—“ “no no, I didnt say that…”
Smiles when you drop to a knee again, pretends to be coy in her answer, but she knows she’d never say anything but yes.
You lay there with her that evening as she discusses all of the intricacies of planning a wedding, her hand tangled in yours, going into great detail about what she wants. Her face hurts by the time she falls asleep because she’s been grinning all day.
Wyll
He is so utterly surprised when you propose — but not for any untoward reason.
“Wait right there!” his face is so excited when he runs back into his tent, and when he re-emerges he has a ring box in his hand too.
“oh… is it custom for us both to have a ring when proposing?” “No, my darling. It’s just fortuitous luck that I was going to propose to you, too.”
“I see. So is your answer yes, then?” “Of course my love. A thousand times.”
You smile widely, and the two of you exchange rings, before he reaches over and kisses you sweetly.
Halsin
Is happy, but also wants you to know you don’t have to do this. That proposal might be a custom of this plane but if you aren’t certain, it isn’t something you have to do.
“I want this, Halsin. I have done my research thoroughly. I can think of nothing more joyous than being married to you. I do not enter into the lightly, and I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
He smiles so widely it threatens to crack his face in two. Lifts you in his arms and gives you a passionate kiss, assuring you that he will make you happy for the rest of his days.
Can’t stop looking at the ring on his finger. He’s an old elf, but he’s never felt more treasured in his life.
Minthara
Smirks. She knew this was coming.
Doesn’t say much, but confirms “you made the right choice. Yes. I will marry you.”
She scrutinises the ring as you slide it on your finger, but seems content. She keeps glancing down to how it reflects the light.
Proves just how pleased she is later that night in bed 😏
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baldurs-gape · 5 months
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Silence
There was a lot Cazador had done over two hudred years. A lot he had taken away, beaten out of or simply tainted to the point that Astarion no longer took pleasure in something. But the one thing he never could fully extinguish was Astarion's tendency to be vocal about anything and everything, usually in the form of complaining.
The tadpole and the sudden freedom was difficult to trust so Astarion kept to safe habits. He didn't miss the appreciative looks his newfound companions sent his way. As little as he was worth, Astarion knew that his value lay in his looks. Cazador had been kind enough to teach him that, had made sure he was well-built, always looked appealing to as many as possible. The price for failing was high enough that Astarion also put a lot of care into learning how to look his best.
"We're not seriously having onion, cheese and the red swill you call wine again, are we?" Astarion sighed as the group settled around the campfire.
"Don't like it, don't eat it." Lae'zel shrugged and glared at him. "Good luck foraging in the forest in the dark for something better."
Seizing the permission, Astarion sneered back as he stood up. "Fine. I'm sure I can do better." He did. Drained a whole boar and spent half the night on his back, so full that his stomach actually hurt as it stretched around so much blood.
It was the start of something. Insidious and slow in a way Cazador never had the patience for, not when it came to Astarion. The phrase "shut up, Astarion" became a daily motto to the point the others were beginning to chuckle about it. He'd heard it plenty enough before, Cazador often told him to quit his whinging. The other spawn were also prone to ignoring him. But that had been a different situation. Despite living through it for so long, Astarion knew, deep down, that it wasn't right. Cazador was just one man, one tyrant who controlled Astarion like a puppet, while the other spawn were all bitter, scared and trying to survive. To be told to shut up by them was like being stung by a wasp and being surprised about it. With his newfound allies though? Astarion had no such excuses to hide behind.
"All I'm saying is that we could go back to camp for a nice rest," he grumbled.
"Shut up and keep moving." There was a growl to Wyll's voice as he marched on at a relentless pace. It was all very well that he could continue but Astarion was tired, hungry and not in the mood to play pretend being a hero. Alas, outnumbered as he was because the others didn't slow down either, Astarion had to keep walking or risk being left behind. As it was, he didn't dare leave the safety of the group, fear of Cazador finding him was still too high.
The longer he spent at camp, the more chances he had to feed, especially as the others stopped paying him so much attention.
"Freedom suits you," Shadowheart called as he washed his shirt. "Made you softer."
Glancing down, Astarion had to think very quickly to hide his true feelings. "Darling, are you calling me fat?"
It was true though, there was a bit of give to his stomach, no longer flat and the muscles clrealy visible under his skin. Cazador would have called him fat for that, undesirable and worthless. Maybe the rest of the group were less interested in him because he wasn't appealing anymore and Astarion grit his teeth in resolve so hard that he almost missed Shadowheart's reply.
"Oh do be quiet. You know what I mean."
He didn't though. Or rather, he did but wished he didn't. That night Astarion didn't go out to hunt. He went hungry the next day. And the next.
By the time his true nature came to light, Astarion was back to his usual self. It was probably what had saved him. As Cazador used to say, it would have been such a shame to rid the world of such beauty, even if it couldn't keep quiet. Part of Astarion hated that Cazador was right, people really were less likely to murder the beautiful.
In the Underdark Shadowheart had turned to him with a lewd smile. "This place suits you. Perhaps it's part of being a creature of the night. It's always night here."
And it was desolate as fuck, devoid of any living creature. So was the Shadowcursed Lands. Astarion was hungry. So very hungry.
"I just want a small nibble," he sighed. "Not even enough for anyone to notice."
"We all need to be on top form, soldier," Karlach muttered. "And it's not like any of us are feeling satiated by any sense of the word. You're not that special."
No, of course Astarion wasn't special. They were all hungry, tired and scared. It was nothing out of the ordinary compared to the last two hunderd years.
Coated in grotesque slime wasn't Astarion's idea of a pleasant time. He wipes ineffectively at his face and flicked what he could to the ground.
"Ruined my shirt. Ruined my hair."
"And you're ruining what little I have left of good will," Gale spat angrily. "Can't you just be quiet for once. I get it, you're a special little vampire who lived in a castle and now has to slum it with the rest of us. But Mystra have mercy, you're making the rest of us feel even worse."
"At least I'm making you feel something. Better than being a forgotten, burnt out waste of talent." Hurt had Astarion lashing out. He hadn't even been talking to Gale, just muttering to himself about his own misfortune. But Gale made a very good point. If he wasn't having a positive impact on the group then he risked being left behind. The more he saw of the world, the more Astarion knew for sure that he wouldn't last long out there on his own. Cazador's spies were everywhere and it was just a matter of time before he was dragged back and punished. It was better to stay quiet and appease his protectors than risk such a thing.
Lifting the curse meant Halsin joined them in their camp. Even stranger, he offered himself up as a meal for Astarion. Hunger outweighed the worry of cost. Astarion knew what he had to offer and acted accordingly. After only a few sips he licked the wound clean and shut before kneeling back.
"You can take more," Halsin offered with heavy lidded eyes. "Don't go hungry."
"I've taken all I need." The lie rolled off Astarion's lips as he patted his flat stomach. Under his shirt his muscles were outlined once again, exactly as they should be. "You've done me a great favour, I haven't had anything as delicious as you in a long time, if ever. How could I ever repay you?"
Halsin smiled up at him. This was it, this was where Astarion traded his body for survival again. Despite knowing this was the outcome when he accepted Halsin's blood, he still dreaded it.
"I was hoping to hear more about your adventures."
The absurdness of the request had a laugh burst from Astarion before he could cover it with something more airy and appealing. "Darling, if you want bedtime stories then Wyll's your man. My talents involve my mouth but a lot less talking."
Still smiling, Halsin shook his head. "Maybe another night then, when you're more comfortable to share some memories."
Such words lingered on Astarion's mind. He hadn't ever been wanted for conversational company. Usually as long as he had one hole stuffed, him companion(s) didn't want anything coherent out of him. Still, it made him hope which Astarion hated so much. But if Halsin was interested then maybe he could try it. Settling by the fire as everyone ate, Astarion listened, waited for his opportunity.
"That ended my attempts at learning to keep the shape of a rat," Gale finished his story and the whole group laughed. "Tara was mortified and I couldn't get the whiskers to retract for a week!"
"Rats were one of the constants in Cazador's castle, no matter how hard he tried to eradicate them." It was a smooth transition, at least Astarion thought so.
"Urgh, spare us the woe and misery," Karlach groaned. "Can't we have just one night where we don't talk about the shit things in life? Let us have a bit of fun!"
Looking around the fire, Astarion saw various nods and heard murmurs of agreement. He knew when he was beaten and Cazador had taught him well. Averting his eyes, he slouched a little, nonchalant yet deferential. "My apologies, I didn't realise my stories about training rats to do circus tricks would be so depressing." Standing up, he gave the group a hollow smile. "Please, enjoy your evening of careless fun away from reality."
As he walked away he heard mutters of "didn't have to take it so personally" and "what a little bitch". The rest of the words he tuned out, not needing to etch into his brain yet more derogatory comments to harmonise with Cazador's words. Walking past his tent, Astarion made his way away from camp, into the dark wilderness. Plopping down on a mound at the edge of a small clearing, he closed his eyes. This was fine. He had changed to suit Cazador's tastes, he could do it again. Not overnight, he needed to learn exactly what was needed of him.
The fact a bear lumbered up next to him should have been a shock. Instead, Astarion stared at it and wondered what he'd taste like to a bear. However, rather than attack, the bear shifted and Halsin stood there.
"Apologies if I startled you, it's easier to find people in the dark as a bear."
"Nothing to apologise for, I should have been paying more attention. Did you need something."
Settling at the base of the mound, Halsin gazed up at the stars. "I was intrigued by rats and circus tricks."
A bitter laugh trickled out of Astarion. "Darling, I did no such thing." Leaning forward, he teased as if imparting some great secret. "Karlach was right, I was going to say how rats all tasted different based on what they'd last eaten. And how Gale likely still tasted just as vile in rat form as in human form. That orb of his certainly sours his appeal."
He didn't expect Halsin to laugh brightly. "I would have loved to have seen his face at hearing that. Do you think Karlach would taste like a fiery pepper?"
Something like delight briefly flitted over Astarion's face as Halsin so easily picked up the thread.
"Well, you're earthy and rich. I think she would certainly have a kick but more like a prank candy. Shadowheart would be a fine aged brandy that has started to turn so it just ever so slightly bitter."
"Lae'zel would taste like pickles!" Halsin blurted out with a wide smile. "And Wyll would be water." It had Astarion actually grinning even as Halsin continued, "My apologies, I do not have the poetic skills you harbour. Leather shoes or wooden clogs are about as creative as I can get with descriptors."
"And yet you're all the more compelling for your upfront honesty. Like a cool breeze on a hot summer night, refreshing yet also mysterious."
The way Halsin flushed was a delight. Without thinking too much, Astarion gave up his perch in favour of scooching down to sit next to Halsin. Their shoulders bumped together and Astarion stayed quiet. He could learn what Halsin wanted him to be. But something told him that all Halsin wanted him to be was himself. A terrifying prospect yet Astarion found himself looking forward to finding out who he really was.
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darth-ted2745 · 4 months
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Started an Astarion origin playthrough and I've been trying to play him as close to his "canon" as possible in terms of how he interacts with others. In doing so I've been thinking about who on earth he would romance out of the other origin characters as there is obviously no Tav to seduce and manipulate. Who would he latch on to for protection? My first thought was Shadowheart, since both of them have their secrets. But thinking further, my mans is nosy as fuck and would want to be all up in her business. If he found out from the rip that the artifact she was carrying was what was keeping him from turning into a mindflayer, I think he would steal that shit so fast and dip out. If he didn't know it was what was keeping them from turning, I think he'd probably try to at least figure out what it was and if it was worth anything. I don't think he'd care about her following Shar, but I do think he wouldn't be convinced she would protect him if Shar demanded Shadowheart abandon him. I think she would see through his bravado if he tries to seduce her and not fall for it. Next thought was Lae'zel. She's strong, fierce, good in a fight, and closer to morally grey like Astarion. She doesn't care about helping others over herself, and actively disapproves of it. I think it's possible he could worm his way under her stony exterior, but unlikely that he could keep her on the hook. She seems much more interested in something casual romantically and (in my experience) will choose to sleep with either Astarion or Wyll at the tiefling party if Tav rebuffs her. I think Lae'zel would view Astarion as an asset, but she gets real spicy about his vampirism. They're also inherently at odds as she will stop at nothing to rid herself of the tadpole, but Astarion wants to control it. In my personal headcanon, Gale and Astarion bicker constantly, so trying to imagine them together at all doesn't really make sense to me, but for the sake of the thought experiment let's do it. I think Astarion just finds Gale insufferable and can't get past it. Having to find magical items to feed to Gale would annoy him since they're now completely useless to the party at a point where Gale's damage output is pretty low. Additionally, Gale is a slowburn romance and Astarion is tryna FUCK. Gale has a lot of emotional baggage (and this isn't me saying Astarion doesn't because we all know he does), and Astarion doesn't have time to sort through all that if he's trying to secure an alliance with seduction. I think Wyll is a top contender. He's such a do-gooder that I think he would protect Astarion no matter what, even from the rip. I do, however, think Wyll's desire to help people would grate on Astarion, as we see it does in a "good" Tav run. That may not put Wyll out of the running, but I think his need for a more "traditional" romance would. Once again, Astarion needs to seduce or his plan won't work. I think it's possible Wyll might still fall for that seduction, even without the sex, but Astarion's tried and true methods will not work. Karlach is the other top contender in my mind. Yes, the seduction would physically not work since he can't touch her at the beginning of the game, but we know she's satisfied with just words for a while. Karlach is so starved for touch and affection that I think Astarion would pick up on that right away and use that to his benefit. I think in trying to keep her on the hook without being able to touch her, he would absolutely fall for her. She's so endearing and the second she gets her engine fixed and he can touch her, I think he would TRY his typical "seduce to protect me" tactic but at that point he might be in too deep. She's also v strong, BIG, and always warm, and we know our baby boy is always cold!!
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bg-brainrot · 5 months
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Of Bets, Bluffs, and Briefs
Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav
Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here
Summary: It's another night at the Elfsong for your group of intrepid adventures. After a hard day of fighting evil, you find a way to sit down, unwind, and undress through a game of strip poker.
Tags: POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Fluff, Strip Poker, Nudity, Alcohol, Innuendos, act 3 unascended Astarion
Word count: ~3.2k
Partly inspired by this amazing piece of fanart from @krembruleed, ty to @thedomesticanthropologist for putting it on my feed!
--
It's hard work being a hero. Though you suppose one could hardly tell by the current state of your group.
What you had originally thought would be a harmless game of cards– a way to destress with your companions after yet another life-threatening situation– had turned into quite a different type of danger. Right now, you are perilously close to losing your last two items of clothing in a high stakes, winner take all, game of strip poker.
It had begun innocently enough.
"Soldier, what do you think?" Karlach had asked you, pulling you out of your thoughts. You were all sitting together playing a game of cards, drinks in hand, crowded around a circular table in your room at the Elfsong. 
You'd lifted your eyes from your hand to look at her, directly on your right, and asked, "About what?"
"About raising the stakes a bit," she'd responded with a little eyebrow wiggle.
In your defense, your hand was fantastic. Your mind was mired in all of the possibilities it could afford you. That being said, maybe you should have gotten clarification before agreeing. "That sounds like a great idea, Karlach."
So now here you are, wearing only a pair of underpants and socks, regretting the fact that a single good hand led you to this sorry state of undress. You’re no stranger to being naked, but something about being half-naked, elbow to elbow with your friends, with nothing but a few flimsy cards between you? Well, you are starting to feel a touch exposed.
The rest of your team doesn't seem to be faring much better: Wyll is down to his white briefs; Karlach has a pair of bracers and her underpants left; Lae'zel is down to just a headband she'd nearly forgotten about; Shadowheart has both a bra and underwear left; Gale is wearing his purple underpants and an amulet; Halsin is already out of the game, completely nude, sitting at the table and simply appreciating the freedom of it all. You rather suspect he wasn’t trying as hard as the rest of you to keep clothed.
There is, however, one among your crew who is nearly no worse for wear, save a pair of missing boots and a missing cape. Astarion, with all of the pride of someone who has had four winning hands in a row, smiles wickedly at the group over his latest hand of cards.
“Come on, Astarion,” Karlach whines, leaning forward on the table. “You cannot possibly have another flush or I am calling bullshit.”
“My dearest Karlach,” he starts, voice coated in only the sweetest of honey. “You wound me. I am simply playing with the hands that I’ve been dealt, same as the rest of you.”
“And your hands just happen to include a full house or two?” Shadowheart questions, raising an annoyed eyebrow at him as she crosses her bare legs.
Astarion’s fanged grin grows. “Maybe I’m just lucky?”
You have begun to strongly suspect foul play as well, given the vampire’s downright unbelievable ‘luck’ so far. “Astarion, if you are cheating, I will be incredibly cross with you,” you say as a way of warning. He doesn’t need to strip in front of the group if he doesn’t want to, of course, and he could just as easily have avoided the game altogether. No, he seems to have another motive behind his near-perfect playing.
“My darling!” he exclaims, placing a single pale hand on his chest. “The rest of these jealous dimwits I expect, but you?” He makes an exaggerated show of wiping away a fake tear with one of Gale’s many forfeited articles of clothing.
“Excuse you!” Gale cuts in. “You may have won the hand, but I expect my robe to be in perfect condition once you return it to me.”
“I thought we were playing for keeps?” you ask, turning to Karlach. Or was this not as high stakes as you’d expected?
“Of course we are!” the tiefling answers with gusto. “Otherwise where’s the fun! The fear! The excitement!” She punctuates each statement by pounding on the table, nearly jostling everyone’s flagons onto the floor. 
The point was made though and you simply hear a resigned sigh from the wizard. “I cannot lose my last pair of enchanted underwear,” he grumbles.
“Then maybe you ought to try winning,” Astarion retorts, the gleeful look never leaving his face.
You take a sip from your drink, surveying the situation. You’re playing 5-card draw, a simple version of poker, rife with opportunity for Astarion to cheat. But why cheat? It’s a game for fun, despite the silly fear it’s clearly instilled in you all. And it’s not as if he’s wearing his best gear or outfit.
You take a look at your hand, another dud– no opportunities for a straight, no pairs for a full house. Your best bet is to draw and hope for a pair, but you suspect that won’t nearly be enough to beat whatever Astarion is crooning over. With only a pair of socks and underpants to your name, you know when you’ve lost. So you know it’s time to do what you do best. “Well then,” you say, placing your cards face down on the table and leaning back. “What happens if I fold?”
“Fold?” Lae’zel asks with a glare. “Would you truly abandon your efforts this deep into the battle?”
Little does she know that you plan on losing the battle to win the war. “Yes,” you respond easily. “What does that do?”
Karlach’s face scrunches up as she considers the possibilities. No one has tried to back out yet, but surely, you need some kind of punishment for trying to avoid the ‘strip’ part of strip poker.
“How about you buy the next round?” Wyll offers, ever the gentleman. His eyes are carefully trained on yours, and you’re not sure if the blush that colors his cheeks is from the drinks he’s had or the proximity of your bare chest.
“Hells no!” Karlach answers immediately. “That’s getting off too easy– we need actual consequences here.”
Astarion, to your immense suspicion, has yet to say anything. When you look over to him, he’s inspecting you with narrowed eyes, hands folded over his facedown cards. The corner of his lip lifts as you make eye contact with him, and he asks, “What’s the matter, love? Running away from me, are you?”
It’s as you thought. He doesn’t want to strip everyone down– he wants to strip you down. “Why would you think that?” you counter, crossing your arms in challenge. “Are you so certain you’ll win again?”
“I’ve got it!” Karlach exclaims. “You need to be the one to strip someone else down. And you’ve got to go real slow.”
You’d already been staring at Astarion’s face when Karlach made the declaration, so you immediately clock the slight bit of annoyance that furrows his brow. Everyone save Lae’zel and him was down to their underwear, so it was easy enough to imagine how that particular exercise would go.
Karlach, you’re a genius, you think. Aloud, you simply say, “Sounds fair to me.”
“Ridiculous,” Astarion mutters. You strongly suspect he would rather you reserve any undressing for him, but you’ve already folded and he’s likely already cheated his hand.
Everyone completes their draws, hands are placed face up on the table, and Astarion’s ludicrous bout of good luck is staring at you all once more– this time in the form of a straight flush.
Lae’zel slams her hands on the table. “You swindler,” she growls, pointing at Astarion with an accusatory finger.
The vampire raises his hands in defense, leaning away from the table. “I am nothing of the sort!” He does shoot you a wary look before clearing his throat. “And what of our lovely leader?”
It’s time for your punishment. “Do I get to pick, Karlach?” you ask, looking between your companions in turn.
“Of course not!” she says, clapping you on the back. “Let’s draw cards for the privilege of your nimble fingers, shall we?”
Everyone agrees easily enough, and it’s not long before they’re all pulling from the stack, the highest card to be the ‘victor.’ Lae’zel draws a queen, Karlach an eight, Gale a four, Wyll a jack, and Shadowheart an ace.
You turn to the cleric, who seems entirely unaffected by the whole ordeal. “Would you prefer the top or bottom?” she asks you, with a slight purse to her lips.
Despite his earlier misgivings, Astarion’s quick with a sultry sounding retort, “Oh I think we both know which you prefer, darling?” Karlach can’t help the snort that escapes her any more than Gale can hide the startled cough.
You ignore him and the rest of your companions, getting up and walking to where Shadowheart is seated. “Let’s just do the top,” you say, moving her hair out of the way.
“Very well,” she responds, sitting up a bit straighter for you. “But be quick about it.”
“Oh no you don’t,” Karlach immediately interrupts. “Be as slow as possible, soldier. Or you’ll have to do it again!”
“Don’t worry, love! You know exactly how slow to go,” Astarion quips, looking at you through his lashes.
You ignore his quip. To appease Karlach, you make a show of it: delicately removing each strap, undoing the back latch. All the while, you hold eye contact with your vampiric lover, as if taunting him, saying ‘this is what you get for cheating.’ He watches, lips making a hard, annoyed line. Shadowheart’s top removed, you return to your seat.
Once everyone else has relinquished their articles of clothing, the game is down to you, Karlach, Shadowheart, Gale, and, of course, Astarion.
Halsin places an arm around an embarrassed Wyll’s shoulder. “Don’t you worry, my friend. Now you are free of any constraints, allowed to observe and appreciate the game as one would the natural world.”
“Sounds lovely, Halsin,” he answers, ducking his head a bit. “I think.”
Lae’zel, for her part, seems perfectly fine to have lost the headband, not any more naked than she was before. “Tchk, hurry and finish the game. Why is everyone in Faerun so interested in the nude form?” It’s a fair question, but none of you answer it as another set of hands is dealt. 
You observe Astarion the entire time, noting every subtle movement of his hands, watching as you try to pin down an extra card or a slip of his sleeve. But he’s ready for this, looking at you as he inspects each new card. “So, darling,” he drawls. “Are you planning on folding again?”
“That depends,” you reply, looking at your cards quickly. Nothing too impressive, but better than the last hand. “Are you planning on cheating again?”
“Gods above,” he mutters, fanning himself with his cards. “My poor, undead heart can’t take much more of these accusations.” Your eyes catch a slight jerk of his hand, and you know what you must do. 
“I’d like to fold again,” you say, looking back to the tiefling woman on your right.
“Alright, soldier,” she agrees with a snicker. The glimmer in her eyes is enough to show that she knows you’re up to something. 
“May I fold too?” Gale grumbles, now truly down to his last magical pair of underpants.
Karlach thinks about it for a moment, realizing the flaw in her plan. “No,” she finally states. “Only one person per round.”
Everyone finishes drawing and plays their hands. Unlike last time, everyone turns to Gale, who has won with a pair of tens. “I won?” he asks, turning toward Astarion, whose expression is quite blank. His hand had been miserable, as if he’d drawn for worse cards– which you suspect he might have.
“Let’s see who I shall strip then,” you say, laying out the stack for the remaining three. You already know who will emerge victorious, sure that there’s an ace up his sleeve at this very moment. Shadowheart draws a seven, Karlach a ten, and, low and behold, Astarion draws an ace.
“Aren’t I the luckiest vampire in Baldur’s Gate?” he says, smiling up at you as you walk around the table to him. “What will you be taking?”
You tilt your head at him, debating the possibilities. But you start simple, slowly, carefully removing the blouse from his head. The entire time, you smile with satisfaction. Because you know you’ve won.
Shadowheart and Karlach now sit there, naked as the day they entered this realm of existence. The tiefling gives you another clap on the back with a laugh, as she whispers loudly at you, “Avenge me, soldier!”
And avenge you will. 
You fold another four times. Each time, Astarion somehow, miraculously, loses. And each time he sighs deeply, dramatically as you approach him to peel off yet another piece of clothing. 
The second time, he whispers, “You cheeky thing, how could you?
On the third time, he whispers, “Don’t you want me to win?”
On the fourth time, he whispers, “Fine, but don’t think you’ll get out of this.”
That’s how he loses his greaves, his pants, his socks, and a necklace, leaving him in only his bright blue briefs.
When you go to fold for a fifth time, ready to remove Astarion from the game once and for all, the man sighs before even viewing his cards and says, “I fold.”
You look at Karlach, as if she might be able to save you, but she only shrugs at you. Her eyes seem to say, ‘It’s in the rules now!’ 
And you suppose it is. So you and Gale each discard, draw, and play your hands. Your three of a kind beats his pair, and Astarion reluctantly strips the wizard of his last, purple pair of enchanted briefs.
I’ll return it to him after the game, you think, as Astarion deposits the pair in front of you with a smirk.
“I’m a few articles of clothing poorer, but I do believe I did rather well, didn’t I?” Gale says, sitting back down, wincing slightly as his bare cheeks make contact with the wooden chair. 
“As well as you can when that one cheats,” Shadowheart says, gesturing toward Astarion with her glass of wine.
“I am innocent until proven guilty,” Astarion replies, sitting back down in his seat, ready for the final showdown.
Now it’s just you and Astarion facing off. You, with a pair of underwear and socks. Him, reduced to his underpants.
“Oh, darling,” he says, leaning back enough that his entire bare torso is on full display. “Do you really think you’ll be able to defeat me in a game like this?”
“I think I like my odds,” you say, leaning back in much the same way. “Karlach, would you do us the honor of dealing?”
“My pleasure,” she responds, cards shooting out of her hands at an alarming speed.
Everyone watches on bated breath as you both draw your hands, look over them silently. You really do like your odds now. Cheating will prove hard for Astarion to do without sleeves to hide cards, and everyone is watching him carefully, waiting to catch the pilferer in the act.
Good, you think, slipping a few cards out from under the table. Two can play at this game, and only one of us waited until the right moment to cheat.
You deposit your extra cards subtly back on the discard pile when no one is looking, and fan your remaining hand out– what stares back at you is an impeccable, unbelievable royal flush. You know you’re going to win, there’s no doubt about it, so you allow yourself a little taunt. “Now that you’re about to lose, my love… whatever compelled you to cheat? What do you gain out of this?”
Astarion looks back at you, eyes straining around the edges as he debates what to discard. “Not that I cheated,” he starts, with a smile that comes out more of a grimace. “But I thought it might be nice to rightfully win one of your undergarments. And perhaps to keep it out of the hands of these lecherous fools.” He gives everyone else at the table a glare in turn before discarding and drawing back up.
Oh, you think. That’s sweet, in a weird, slightly concerning way. Much like the man who now turns back to you, a wide, unabashed smile on his pale face. “I see,” is all that you say in response. You look down at the royal flush in your hand. You can’t lose with this, and you can’t very well try to cheat again when you’re both done drawing.
You turn to Karlach. “Can I still fold?”
“What!?” she cries, looking at you like you’re insane. “Why would you do that, soldier? You’ve nearly got ‘im!”
“Darling,” the man calls from across the table. You look into his fierce, red eyes, narrowed with determination. “Don’t you dare lose to me on purpose. Especially when I know that you’ve beaten me at my own game.”
The smirk he gives you is all the encouragement you need. “Fine,” you say, laying out your preposterous, beautiful hand. Everyone at the table gasps, save Astarion. He only looks at you warmly before laying out his sad, single pair of nines.
“Well played,” he says, standing up. A second later, his blue underwear is off, like a flag of surrender. In all of his naked glory, he walks around the table, places his briefs in front of you, and smiles. “I’ll get you next time, my sweet.”
You look up at him, aware that all of your companions are watching the exchange with rapt attention, but also finding that you can’t bring yourself to care. “You can have me now, if you’d like.”
“Lady of the Moon save me… please control yourselves,” Shadowheart says, downing the rest of her wine glass. She stands up, ignoring the dizzying display of love next to her. “That’s enough of that game, wouldn’t you all say?”
“Yes, why don’t we find something a bit… warmer to play?” Wyll suggests, standing up after Shadowheart. Halsin, Lae’zel and Gale follow, leaving you, Karlach, and Astarion behind. 
The tiefling usually knows when to leave the two of you to your own devices, but can’t resist one last comment. “Thanks for avenging me, soldier,” she says, wrapping you in a warm, bare bear hug. At Astarion’s low, annoyed groan, she releases you, laughing. “Join us again once you’re done doing whatever weird flirting you get up to!”
She leaves the two you be, and you turn toward Astarion. “So,” you say, scratching the back of your head ruefully. “Was that too much?”
He shakes his head at you, white curls bouncing lightly. “No, I’d rather say I deserved it a bit– But only a bit.”
You laugh at the admission and hold out a hand for Astarion to bring out of your chair. He takes it, pulling you up and into his arms. Your bare chests press together a moment, and the chill of his skin on yours leaves goosebumps all along your arms. “Thank you,” you murmur, realizing that your faces are too close, skin too exposed.
Astarion doesn’t seem to mind, leaning a bit further into you. “You’re quite welcome, my dear.” He drops his voice to a whisper, meant only for your ears. “What do you say we finish our ‘weird flirting’ before we rejoin the group?”
“Only if you promise to keep the sleight of hand to a minimum in our next game,” you whisper, looking between his red eyes.
He sighs, his cool breath tickling your face. “Very well.”
“And next time, just ask me for the underpants,” you grumble, before finally pressing your lips into his.
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reverieblondie · 8 days
Text
Cal x Lae'zel
The Beginning: Meeting in the Grove
Part 1
A/N: This ship just popped into my mind one day and at first I was like, oh that was random…then I started to think about it more… and now I can’t stop… Thank you to @drizztdohurtin for letting me ramble about them in your ask box! You are such a kind soul! This will be a multi part HCs because I have lots of thoughts about this couple! Also hug shout out to @dark-and-kawaii Thank you so much for the pictures you sent me! You deserve all the smooches! Also if you want to read amazingly spicy fics go check them out! (this was supposed to be in bullet points but Tumblr didn't like that)
(I mean look at these two!)
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Now let's go to the beginning of this couple's relationship, and of course, it all starts back at the grove because obviously~
I imagine that Cal is at least slightly aware of who Lae'zel is because: One, she is in Tavs party and everyone seems to know who Tav is by this point. Two, she is a githyanki walking around the grove; of course, people will take note of her. Three, all the teiflings have heard about what Zorru saw and what happened to his friend Yul, so of course they keep a close eye on her… Including Cal, Lia, and Rolan. Though they are watching all the new adventures in the grove, Cal has found himself staring at the silver-clad warrior fairly often. She's just unlike anything he's seen before. 
Lae'zel, on the other hand, was unaware of Cal's existence. Until one day… when she decided to do some training… 
While the rest would spend time relaxing at camp when they were on pause with their adventure, Lae'zel is not one for relaxing; she needs to keep busy. So, while everyone else was doing their thing, she slipped away to a secluded spot to do some training. 
Lae'zel heard him before she saw him, fumbling around and lamenting his problems, something about him being treated like a baby. Rolling her eyes, she finally looks towards the noisy intruder. She doesn't bother to hide that she's staring daggers into him when he makes it through the thicket. Lae'zel does a quick assessment of him. Tall with apparent bulk, strong, sure, but from how he holds that spear, not fit for his build, she could outmaneuver him from the amount of training she has had, but he could possibly put up a bit of a fight…
Of course, Cal is getting nervous by the second as she keeps her keen eyes on him. Lae'zel's silver armor glimmers brightly on her olive skin, and her strong arms effortlessly hold her sword like it weighs nothing. She's altogether imposing, and he can't seem to look away.
Lae'zel, never one for subtlety ends the stare off with a command, immediately pulling dominance. A skill that has always served her well. "Teeth-ling, raise your spear and spar with me. I need a moving target for better training. Unless these words you speak of being compared to a baby are true?" 
Cal feels his tail flick widely behind him. Is she…taunting him? The short answer is yes, in a way. Lae'zel knows how to get under people's skin, so she wants to test Cal. "Fine," Cals says somewhat irritatedly, "But don't kill me…or seriously mame me…" Lae'zel tries to keep from rolling her eyes; she guesses she will hold back a little then…
It turns out Lae'zels holding back means she still is whooping Cal's ass. Not only is she strong, but she's swift, too. Completely overwhelming him, but Cal can't seem to keep his eyes off her and her immaculate form. However, Cal isn't the only one being impressed. Lae'zel watches the tall tiefling; she watches how he keeps falling and failing, but he keeps getting up, and when she goes for the same hit, he moves…A hidden resolve and a quick learner. Maybe he has some potential to be a decent fighter…
Cal sees something in her eyes, and he takes the opportunity to prove himself and make a hit. With his found spear ready, he charges forward to at least knock her down. Of course, Lae'zel simply side steps out of the way. Silly Tiefling putting all his weight into an attack without having a counterpla —Thwack!
She's unsure what has just transpired, but all she knows is that her cheek is stinging…Looking towards him, she sees that he looks completely mortified. "I'm…" she points her sword to his neck. "Don't apologize, just tell me how you did that!" Cal swallows before slowly lifting his tail to view. "It was an accident…" Lowering her sword, she looks at it quizzically, approaching closely; she almost wants to touch it but holds herself back as she watches him tense up. "What else can it do?" 
Cals is not exactly sure why, but images of debauchery and his tail twisting against some intimate places pop into his mind…" stuff…lots of different, nice…huh c-cool…stuff.." Her eyes narrow before she puts her sword away, heading to grab her things and leave. Cal guessed this must be the end of the training, so he also went to gather his things when his ears perked up at her voice. "Tiefling…you have potential; you just need practice. He feels his smile curl up, and excitement fills his chest; before he knows it, he's rushing out his next response, "You think I have potential! Maybe we can train again together…sometime… if you-" "Perhaps you could use the guidance…and I need something to batter at most days." Cal's tail starts to swish around wildly now; he hopes she doesn't notice. -wait…what does she mean by batter?   
Lae'zel heads back to camp, but before she's gone into the thicket, she calls over her shoulder. "Name," Cal is caught off guard by the demand, but he manages to stumble out his name. She hums, says her name, and leaves. Of course, he already knew it, but now, at least, she will stop calling him teeth-ling. 
From that moment, Cal was learning to become a better fighter from someone who had been doing it all her life. But it was also the start of a new friendship?
Friendships are not a familiar concept for Lae'zel, but Cal seems determined to teach her. He starts small with conversion and jokes, but those seem to fly over Lae'zel's head most of the time. So then Cal began to do the next thing he could think of to build a conversation; he started to ask questions about her and her people. First, Lae'zel gave only short answers, but as the days went on, she would begin to elaborate more and then start asking questions of her own; the questions ranged from about Faerun and tieflings in general to more about Cal and how he ended up at the grove. Soon, she found that Cal was sharing all sorts of stories ranging from old legends to stories of his youth. 
It was odd, but Lae'zel found herself enjoying the stories. His life had been so different from her own. There was also just this way he spoke…such enthusiasm. 
On the other hand, Cal was excited to have someone to talk to, a new friend…then he heard her laugh. He told the story of when Rolan accidentally conjured a fire cat, and that's when he heard her laugh, and he was hooked…How could such a fierce warrior have such a beautiful laugh? It was infectious, and he wanted to hear more of it, to watch her full lips curl into a smile and hear that rare sound…
As Lae'zel finds herself in her laughing fit, she looks over to see Cal watching her with the warmest smile she has ever received from a person. It gives her a slight pause, and she feels the tips of her ears warm as she continues to watch him; how long have they sat here? And do his eyes always look…so soft and gentle… Lae'zel averts her gaze and swings his spear back into his hands, catching him off guard and kind of winding him a bit. "No more ideal chatting, let's get to training…" Cal watches her get set for training, but he can't stop smiling. 
When you get closer to someone, it's natural that you get them things…right? So it wouldn't be weird if he brought her one of the muffins he made, right? Does she even like muffins? There blueberry… Rolan likes them and he's not exactly a sweets person, but he enjoys them… Cal continues to agonize over the idea before telling himself to do it! 
As he packs away a few things, Cal fails to notice that Rolan and Lia are watching him…Rolan turns to Lia. "Where is Cal going?" Lia looks over and shrugs. "Said something about training." "He's been doing that a lot lately…" Rolan watches as Cal runs off with a wide, excited smile on his face, "Do you think he's training with someone?"  
Lae'zel looks at the baked good with suspicion. It smells sweet and is sure to weigh her down, definitely not the proper nutrients that her diet usually consists of. Cal watches her with anticipation; he apparently made the sugar-sprinkled treat…. It doesn't seem like she can toss it, so she takes a bite, and that's when the sweetness coats her tongue; it's delicious… Lae'zel scarves it down and looks at him with wide, pleading eyes. Cal laughs, turns out Lae'zel is a sweets person, wait till she learns about cupcakes. Maybe he could bake her something again…to say thanks for training him.
Since the day Cal gifted Lae'zel the muffin, she figured she should return the favor and give Cal something in return… As she walked with Tav through an abandoned village, she spotted it… the thing he desperately needed.
Cal couldn't help but smile when Lea'zel brought him the spear. It was a vast improvement from the one he had been using, and it was fit for his size! He no longer had to slouch so much he could stand to his full height! As Cal studied the spear, he could tell from how the silver end shinned Lae'zel had spent a lot of time sharpening and polishing it. "I grew tired of you using that old one, this shou-" Before she can finish, Cal is scooping her into a warm embrace, a soft thank you whispered in her ear. Lae'zel feels her body lean into him, her arms on instinct lifting to almost wrap around his back ...no..she doesn't…they can't… Lae'zel pushes Cal off, her ears red and eyes avoiding his surprised gaze. "No need for thank yous…just make sure you use it properly…" Cals is happy she doesn't seem to notice his cheeks slightly redder than usual. "Ha, ha…of course…" or the slight hurt in his voice. 
They…did it… Tav and her companions did it, they saved Halsin and defeated the camp of goblins, and Lae'zel looks unscaved…tired and covered in blood but she's okay! Her adorable ears are still intact, her striking face free from fresh scares…Wait? What is he thinking? Does he…sure they have grown close, but does he…
Through the crowd of faces, her large yellow eyes fall to him. For a moment, they soften, and Cal swears he sees her full lips slightly smile before giving a small nod to him. She's safe…and as he etches every feature of her face to his mind, he feels his heart stir further. 
Lae'zel has seen a fair share of battle celebrations…this one is far more tame than the ones she has experienced, but there is something surprisingly pleasant about it. Though she could use some people not being so loud… the camp is in full swing as everyone gets pissed on wine, though Lae'zel holds off on indulging; come morning, they must leave this place for the creche. Her journey ends soon… she is filled with relief and also… something else. As she thinks about the slight aching feeling, she looks up to see Cal approaching with a subtle sway and a drunken flush. 
He practically stumbles over himself, offering her a drink, but she declines. They sit together outside her tent as she talks about the battle and share their plans for where they are going next. Cal lets his thoughts fly in drunken bravery, "You know…in your armor, you're magnificent…But seeing you like this… makes you seem more real…" Lae'zel looks at him confused, "Of course, I'm real…how odd…" Cal feels his face flush, "Well, not real…but you know. Softer…less guarded…m-more exposed…” Lae'zel feels like she knows where this is going, and she would be lying if she said she wasn't intrigued…" exposed?"  Cal swallows and nods as he stares at her. "Y-yeah..like your neck…you have a lovely neck…" 
Lae'zel feels that familiar heat on the tips of her ears. If he likes her neck, she could let him taste it. But as she looks at him, she sees his shy smile as he fidgets with his hands. He's not used to this. Sure, she is used to the carless passion, but… she doesn't want his last memory of her being where he wakes up to an empty bedside. She's not sure why, but she wants him to be left with only pleasant memories, not hurt…
As Cal goes to grab her hand she nonchalantly moves it, faking not paying attention as she looks up at the stars. "This is probably the last time we will see each other…" Cal retreats his hand back into his lap and looks up as well, "Ha…yeah, so it will seem… Lae'zel…thank you…because of you, I mean stronger; I feel like I can better protect the people I love, and though I know it's foolish to hope…but I hope I get to see you again…" 
Lae'zel feels herself smile as she keeps her eyes on the vast sky…" So do I…"
(Part 2 we are heading to Last Light inn!)
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separatist-apologist · 9 months
Note
MB I have very important business now that you know the bg3 companions, let's go for a classic. Who is the best companion to take to ikea?
Okay first of all THANK YOU. Secondly though, I'm only doing main companions because Jaheria died during our fight at Moonrise and it took me SO LONG to win that I wasn't re-doing it and I've never one time been tempted to pick Minthara over Halsin.
This is, as always, worst to best
Lae'zel- She would not understand the purpose or the point. But what do you need? Nothing, we just came to look and waste four hours pretending we could live this way. I do not comprehend the nonsense of your species.
Shadowheart- I know this will be controversial but damn I feel like she would just complain and sneer the entire time. She's up to the experience until you're halfway through the kitchen section and she suddenly gets mad but doesn't TELL you. The whole vibe shifts and she's being curt so you rush yourself out of there
Halsin- Look, I just think Mr. Nature would not like seeing just how many. trees were felled in order to make a cheap cabinet that isn't going to last you longer than two-three years.
Astarion- I know someone won't like this because it SEEMS like he should enjoy it, and he does for a while. PAPER light fixtures? PLYWOOD furniture? Oh darling. This is awful, take me somewhere people have TASTE.
Gale- It's possible to be TOO enthusiastic about something, actually. Gale. I'm begging you, PUT THE TRINKET DOWN. You actually do not need to touch everything, has anyone told you that? What was supposed to be a light hearted two hour day has spanned the full business hours of ikea and if Gale doesn't stop picking up plants, you're going to wait until the store closes and hunt him for sport.
Wyll- An altogether good time with the Blade of the Frontiers. Does he entirely get what we're doing here at 10am on a Saturday? No, but he DID wear walking shoes and he will definitely stage a half-hearted fight with you in one of the living rooms. You spend half the day making jokes about childhood trauma, and the other half trying to figure out how to get that impulse buy cabinet home in his subaru (look I know this is in my heart okay?)
Karlach- You already knew. The RIGHT enthusiasm and so much hype. OH MAN MEATBALLS? Fuck yes. Not only does Karlach also want to lay down on one of the massive beds and play pretend that you could absolutely live this way, but she's willing to help you build the furniture (she's got tools at home, this is going to be so easy she says!). Youre relationship is better for going to ikea
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blackjackkent · 1 month
Text
Rakha puts a lot of thinking into the stretch of hallway leading to Inquisitor W'wargaz's inner sanctum.
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As always in tense situations, her thoughts boil down into a collection of facts.
The zaith'isk tried to kill them.
The doctor may be a traitor. Or perhaps this was what was going to happen all along.
The artifact, and the guardian connected to it, have protected them - from the zaith'isk and from the Absolute. The guardian has given Rakha brief flashes of peace.
The artifact is of gith make, a weapon, an "Astral Prism." The Inquisitor here wants it back.
There are two possibilities.
If Lae'zel is right, and this was a conspiracy of a few, then the Inquisitor can help them. If the Inquisitor can help them and see that they are properly cleansed, then there is room for discussion. Perhaps even for returning the artifact to the githyanki - though there is a compulsive, wrenching feeling in her chest at the idea of giving up the guardian's protection.
If Lae'zel is wrong and the zaith'isk was always meant to kill them, then the Inquisitor cannot be trusted. None of the gith can be trusted.
And in that case... murmurs the beast urge in her head, ever-hungry, ever-brutal, they will all of them die screaming in the flames...
She sets her jaw tightly, gives a sharp shake of the head, trying to quell back the dark thoughts. Lae'zel taught her to attack with purpose; is there purpose in bleeding this place dry?
Yes... keens the beast. Lae'zel has already proven wrong once. Do not listen. You need nothing. Kill. Kill. Blood. Blood. Blood...
She squeezes her eyes shut, fists clenching at her sides, and strides forward towards the massive doors of the inner sanctum as if she could outrun the darkness in her head.
-----
W'wargaz is waiting expectantly at the center of the sanctum as the doors slide open. His eyes fix at once on Rakha, then slide sideways to examine Lae'zel narrowly.
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"My ardents spoke of one of our kin that escaped a crashing ghaik slave-vessel," he says. His voice is smooth, softer than Therezzyn's was; it carries a tighter air of command, more accustomed to instant obedience.
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Lae'zel inclines her head stiffly in a gesture of respect. "Ch'r'ai," she says. "Vlaakith's justice in flesh."
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W'wargaz smiles tightly. "You have accomplished much, child. I am pleased to finally meet you. I heard there is so much goblin blood on your hands that it soaks their children's nightmares..."
Rakha can see the way the words work on Lae'zel. She remembers the night Lae'zel almost killed her in her near-transformation; she remembers what the worm revealed in the young gith's head - a fear of insignificance, of failure. This acknowledgment from the ch'r'ai is exactly what she wishes to hear. Her back straightens. Her eyes go wider.
Not waiting for a response, W'wargaz turns his attention back to Rakha, who is staring at him unblinkingly. "To business," he says brusquely. "I suspect you plucked something precious from the ghaik ship. Something that belongs to us. The weapon. Give it to me."
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"Don't do it..." whispers the guardian within Rakha's mind. "The weapon is how I protect you."
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"Do it," Lae'zel snaps, as if in answer. "Do not disobey the Inquisitor."
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There it is, then. An inescapable choice now, between listening to Lae'zel and the guardian. The two voices (besides Wyll) that have influenced Rakha the most since she woke up on the nautiloid.
But she did not come here to discuss the weapon - she needs to know if these people mean her harm, first. If the idea of the cleansing is real - if it was ever real. So she slips sideways around the question and demands instead, "How do you know so much about me?"
Because clearly W'wargaz knows a great deal about them - from far before they arrived at the creche.
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"Some of your species say knowledge is power," W'wargaz says coolly. "They are wrong. Knowledge is everything. We took an interest in you when you became involved with this 'Absolute' cult. A pestilence of infected slaves - the first symptom of the Grand Design in action." His eyes narrow. "But you are lucky - that weapon you carry is the solution. I have heard it from Queen Vlaakith herself. Hand it over."
This is a lot of words, but no answers. Rakha scowls. "What is the Grand Design?" she asks, still making no move towards the artifact in her pack. She has heard Lae'zel speak the words before, but without context - and W'wargaz is right about one thing. She needs knowledge, more even than the beast needs blood.
"The Grand Design is what all ghaik seek," W'wargaz says. His voice goes cold. "The restoration of the Illithid Empire, which spanned the entirety of the multiverse. For centuries, their Elder Brains sought to bring back their dominion. Every plot they hatched, we stopped. But now they are close to succeeding."
He stalks a slow circle around the center of the room, his eyes never leaving Rakha's face. "Never before could they pause ceremorphosis. Never before could they let the infection spread undetected. You saw the thralls gathered on the ghaik ship. Imagine that everywhere. Wants, needs, choice - all would cease to be. Everything rendered unto the ghaik."
He comes to a halt again, directly in front of Rakha, his gaze boring into her. "So. The weapon." His lips draw back in a tight, skeletal smile, mock-ingratiating. "Please."
(A/N: This is interesting; I feel like W'wargaz's perspective here is better explained than I remember it being for Hector. Not sure if this dialogue got polished in more recent patches or if Rakha is just asking more questions than Hector did. XD )
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"Don't give it to him..." insists the guardian, with a distinct note of desperation.
Rakha hesitates. She knows more than she did when she came in, and the Inquisitor makes a compelling point. If this Absolutist plot is a facet of a mind flayer push for domination, then the weapon is valuable indeed. But all the more reason that she cannot turn it over if their safety is not assured. The Inquisitor is offering no more cleansing than the ghustil did.
"I won't let you take it," she says flatly.
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"Do not try me!" Lae'zel snaps. "Hand over the artifact, or die by my hand!"
Rakha goes very still. Her eyes do not leave W'wargaz but she is acutely conscious of Lae'zel behind her, of the tension strained between them almost to the breaking point.
Would Lae'zel truly kill her? Even Rakha, with her bone-deep bloodlust, has stayed her hand from her companions; there is something different about the bond they share, the challenges they face together. But Lae'zel is willing to threaten her over the artifact, over disobeying this man's orders.
She is loyal to her people, certainly. Or she is afraid of the ghaik. Or perhaps she is still simply angry at Rakha for her broken heart. The reason doesn't really matter. The threat is real, regardless.
And Rakha is surprised to realize, distantly, that it hurts. She has trusted Lae'zel's judgment, valued her advice, followed her here willingly. And it is all coming apart.
The guardian is right. This place is a trap. It was always a trap.
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"Remember the zaith'isk?" Rakha mutters, low, hoarse. "These gith can't be trusted. Follow my lead - I'll choose the right path."
One chance. She will give Lae'zel one chance to back down. She doesn't really expect it, and the beast is already stirring in her head, ready for the battle to come.
But to her surprise... Lae'zel yields.
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"The zaith'isk..." Lae'zel's head tips forward and her eyes squeeze shut, remembering the agony of the machine that almost destroyed her. She seems to be fighting with herself inwardly, a terrible battle - everything she was taught, against the experiences of the last day and whatever bond still holds her tightly to Rakha in spite of her heartbreak. "Tsk-- tsk'va! I hate that you speak the truth," she growls, as if the words are razors in her mouth. "Choose...your path is mine to follow..."
Rakha lets out a slow breath she didn't realize she was holding. "We are keeping the artifact," she says curtly.
Lae'zel swallows a hoarse groan, as if someone has stabbed a knife into her gut and twisted. "Our fate is forged..." she whispers. "Mother Gith, guide us..."
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Any sense of good humor drains from W'wargaz's face at once. And - as Rakha, deep down, suspected he would right from the beginning - he draws the huge greatsword at his back. "Your illustrious adventure ends here," he growls, swinging the sword in a wide arc towards Rakha's face. "Hta'zith!"
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rhysintherain · 23 days
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I can't remember if I've specifically seen you post about your Tav and/or Durge? But a great way for me to get to know them! 35, 37, and 39 for a Tav/Durge of your choosing. c: (And heck, also for Rikka the Bhaalspawn you told me about, if she was a companion. :D )
Thank you! The only Tav I've put a ton of effort into lately (the one I occasionally write about) is Skye: druid, non-binary disaster, dating Shadowheart canonically. Guild artisan background. A bit more chaotic than most druids would like. Has a lot of history with the legacy companions, since they're Jaheira's protege.
Greeting a player character at different approval levels:
Low: don't you have something to be doing? ANYTHING to be doing, besides this conversation? Because I sure do.
Usually I don't bite, but I'll make an exception for you.
Neutral: need something? I have *sorts through pockets for stray stuff* an empty bottle... Some string... Where did all these gremisha tails come from? Oh, I have cheese! Let me know if any of that sounds useful.
If you're hoping I'll say something druidic and wise I'll give it a go, but it'll probably just sound sarcastic.
High: need a giant feral cat to smack someone for you? Please tell me it's Lae'zel.
You know what my favorite thing about the city is? The conspicuous lack of ankhegs.
Romance: here, I made you something *hands player some little thing made out of odds and ends collected on their travels*
You know, I used to doubt leaving Cloakwood, but with you here I'm sure it was the right choice.
If a player asks them "tell me about yourself":
Born and raised in the Gate, which was... Interesting when I learned to wild shape into a coyote as a kid. Fortunately Jaheira took pity on me and taught me some shapes that get fewer rocks thrown at them.
Spent some time at the Cloakwood circle - the REAL Cloakwood circle, mind you, shadow druids don't count - but there's only so much bug control and giving directions to lost city folks you can do before you'd rather be anywhere else.
Not much more to say, honestly? You already know I can turn into an assortment of creatures and can't stand Ashaba Dusk.
(spoiler alert: there's plenty more to say. Like the last name they refuse to use. And the fact that they learned most of what they know from a handful of legendary heroes. But they're not going to say any of that until The Plot forces them to)
When a player character asks for a kiss: have I ever said no before? Actually, if I ever do just assume I've been dopplegangered.
Of course, I wasn't working on anything important at the moment *que the sound of something falling over/a hiss of a potion eating through the workbench/the growl of a possibly dangerous animal off camera* well, not more important than this...
And for Rikka, the half-orc shaman Bhaalspawn from BG1 and 2. Neutral good, insufferable ray of sunshine, romanced Rasaad.
Greeting a player at different approval levels:
Low: Can I help you? *Under her breath* I mean, can anyone, really?
Oh hey, I've been meaning to talk to you about your questionable decisions lately.
Neutral: whatever you need, I'm on it like ugly on an orc! (This was actually one of the in-game dialogues in BG1 for the voice I chose for her. Didn't know that when I picked the voice, but it was very in character that she'd think it was funny)
We shouldn't linger here, the ghosts of this land are restless... Gods, you should see the look on your face! Admit it, I had you going, didn't I?
High: Minsc just asked me if he'd hurt that tree's feelings... I swear, I've known that man for over a century and he still manages to surprise me.
Need a summoning? An exorcism? I'm pretty sure I know a couple dead dragons who owe me favors, just say the word.
Romance: if it isn't my favorite person, wading through the mud and blood of the adventuring life to come see me.
You know I'd walk straight into the hells for you, right? And I'm not just saying that because I've done it so many times I could justify buying a summer home there, either!
If a player asks them "tell me about yourself":
Oh you know, I'm pretty normal. Daughter of a murder god, raised in the finest library in the realms - which I made much better use of than my sister, for the record - got my soul stolen by an evil wizard, but then who hasn't? They offered me my father's throne at one point, but the family business just sounded like an awful lot of work, you know? I have 15 - no wait, I think it's 16 now - beautiful grandchildren. Okay, maybe my life hasn't been the textbook definition of normal, but I'm surprisingly normal about it!
When a player character asks for a kiss: pretty please?
Oh, my day is getting better already!
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amatres · 8 months
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tagged by @turbulentpumpkin43 to fill out this relationship graph! here's balaerra's, she is doing so well in everyone's perspectives as you can see
i'll tag @fuckitwebhaal and @commander-lariel, for any of your ocs! no pressure tho! and anyone else who would like to!
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here's the blank version!
Relationships somewhat more elaborated on under cut
Astarion: The toxic codependent relationship where they destroy each other bc they love each other and don't know how else to go about it of all time I think. What more needs to be said lol. The lamer versions of the Briarwoods for Baldurs Gate. Seriously though, the two found each other a safe place and fell in love without realizing it, and even much to Astarion's surprise Balaerra is a much more tender lover than he expected from the outset. Unfortunately they both believed power would keep them safe, and because of that they damned each other to eternity and killed over 7000 people for it.
Gale: They are just friends :) Gale had romantic feelings for her, for Some Reason, so that is part of my canon now. My man, I hope when everything is over you like. just live your life in peace never thinking of her again bc even if she only has good intentions for you, she will still destroy you. I do think he'd be stuck between his lingering affection for her, while also the horror at who she ended up being, for a long time.
Halsin: He propositioned her as well, which I am still perplexed by but I must contextualize it to make it make sense. So in my head, he saw the good she did in the Shadowlands (even if she was doing it out of anger and spite), and not only admired her for it but believed he could help keep her on that path. Unfortunately that is not true, and I'm sure later on he'll mourn her for what she was while probably helping whatever adventurer comes along to put an end to her with a heavy heart. Balaerra for her part thought he was nice and found his insights interesting, even if she didn't agree with him all too often.
Jaheira: Allies of convenience. Similar to Halsin, Jaheira saw the good Balaerra was possible of but unlike him saw much earlier how far she was slipping. 'I mourn the person you were before all of this' indeed.
Karlach: Childhood friends, Balaerra was the one who suggested Karlach work for Gortash so many years ago, believing it was helping her. Then Karlach went missing and Balaerra ended up in her own horrible relationship with her teacher. They want each other to live so badly, but they both die in the end. Karlach physically, Balaerra in every other way. With Karlach dying, I think that's also the last shred of Balaerra's former life that dies with her, and it's just the eternity she is tied to with Astarion afterwards.
Lae'zel: Besites 💕The two of them get along so well it's hilarious. They share similar pragmatism, as well as ride or die attitudes once they are closer, and Balaerra very easily signed a devil's contract just because Lae'zel asked her to. I'm pretty sure Lae'zel will leave for the astral sea in the end, so what thoughts she could have on Balaerra's further decay would never come to pass I think.
Minthara: Balaerra killed her, so there's not much to say unfortunately lol. Calling Balaerra being a half drow an 'impurity' hit too sore a nerve for her, so she had to go.
Shadowheart: Another complicated one! Shadowheart trusts Balaerra a lot, and it was at Balaerra simply asking if she was sure she wanted to do it that had Shadowheart change her mind and go against Shar. All the more heartbreaking that even though Balaerra had such a positive influence on her, at the same time Shadowheart has to watch as Balaerra and Astarion slip beyond the event horizon to their own traumas.
Wyll: Interesting as well, the two aren't the closest of friends but I believe Wyll saw promise in her, and Balaerra admired his strength despite all he endured. She pushed for him to be free of his contract, bc he would never be safe if he stayed in it. Similar to Jaheira, I think he would mourn who she could be while being disgusted with who she became at the end.
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emcapi-gaming · 4 months
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Important update from honour mode:
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...Yeah so my plan for that fight went COMPLETELY sideways but somehow worked out in my favor.
Long as hell story under the cut.
The Enemy:
The Original Plan:
Inquisitor W'wargaz of the Githyanki creche, notorious honour mode run ender because of his legendary action. He summons 2 very powerful spiritual weapons every round, and unless you kill him really fast, you'll get swarmed by then. He also does the mindsteal link, boosting his defense by a ton.
The main goals were:
1. Kill him as fast as possible, and
2. Knock him prone as much as possible, because it apparently prevents him summoning the weapons and possibly interrupts the mindsteal link.
I also was going to send in someone with invisibility to sneak in ahead and crack open the hallway to the Lathander mace, and possibly grab it since we already had the crest, which would offer an easy escape route; enemies won't follow through doors into different areas, and you can fast travel out from that hallway.
The (Originally Planned) Team:
After that was set up, we'd go in, say hi to Vlaakith, take a little astral prism jaunt, and hop back out ready to kick githyanki ass.
1. KARLACH, best girl, as throw build barbarian.
2. LAE'ZEL, who got her personal development arc skipped ahead slightly and reclassed to Way of the Open Hand monk. (I had the thought before that this would be really cool character-wise for her, given the Orpheus situation and his monk honour guard.) Tons of damage, lots of stun and prone abilities. She's most of the reason Auntie Ethel didn't even make it to the fireplace.
3. ASTARION, double hand crossbow, thief rogue/gloomstalker ranger with sharpshooter feat, who can do a baseline 3 shots per turn + 4th shot on the first turn. (And who, I'm sure, is having the time of his undeath going "pew pew pew >:D")
4. WYLL, who wasn't set up to put out consistent damage on par with the other 3 yet, and therefore was not part of the frontline team. He had the critical job of being our insurance at camp to go running to Withers if things went south - which from the things I've heard, I fully expected. He would also be playing support/indirect heals via tossing potions at-
5 and 6, SHADOWHEART and RANDO CLERIC HIRELING, who were going to be rigged up to Lae'zel and Astarion via warding bonds to hopefully keep them alive a little longer, and tossing a couple of death wards and other non-concentration buffs on the frontline team.
What Actually Happened:
Per plan, Astarion went in with invisibility and cracked open the secret mace hallway.
And then, on my way out, I noticed that the npc standing closest to that hallway had only 36 health. Which Astarion could take out in one turn, easy.
I assumed it would flip the room to temporarily hostile and then Astarion could bail back down the hallway, then come back with the full team later, but now with one less enemy to beat us up and give W'wargaz that extra mind link.
Good news: he did indeed take out that one npc.
Bad news: the rest of the room became hostile of the non-temporary variety.
Good news: Astarion had first initiative, and everyone else in there - except W'wargaz - was surprised. This was the first major way the plan failed in my favor, because we couldn't have gotten a surprise round on the way out of the prism.
Bad news: my original plan kind of hinged on Lae'zel's monk skills. Except I had no idea how pissed off she would be about the current state of affairs w/r/t "inquisitor trying to kill us," and because no savescumming, I wasn't willing to risk bringing her in. I did search and see that she would be more or less chill with whatever went down as long as we still went into the prism and told her about it after, though. The in-between part, I was less sure about. So. No monk.
Karlach, still in camp, grabbed Gale (since Lae'zel was a risk) and got as many of the planned buffs set up as possible, while Astarion stalled the hell out of the initiative order. In my imagination, he bought time by busting out his ridiculous villain monologue you just KNOW he's been planning out for decades, and basically became an unskippable cutscene nightmare to the githyanki on par with the Gaius Praetorium Elevator Speech.
The second way that my disaster of a plan ended up working for the better: I forgot that I had specced Gale as Divination. Which means he had portent die.
If you are unfamiliar with what those do: every morning he gets three or four (not sure the exact number) D20 rolls that he hangs on to all day. And then, when an ally misses an attack/saving throw, or an enemy passes one, if he has a portent roll on hand that's higher/lower than the target number, he can just go "nope!" and expend it to straight up replace the result to reverse a pass/fail.
This is, as you can imagine, VERY powerful.
So Gale and Karlach finally arrive, toss in some sneak attacks, and get things moving for real. Everyone took haste potions because if they couldn't get him down before 3 rounds they were probably dead anyways.
Karlach and Astarion start spamming their usual attacks. Gale, meanwhile, proceeds to both dump fireballs on W'wargaz's head (along with any other githyanki close enough to fit in the aoe), and flip him the Portent Die Middle Finger Of Fuck You on pretty much all his attacks, dodges, and saves.
He went down in just under 2 rounds and it took all of my restraint and remembering that we have neighbors to resist jumping up and screaming.
The rest of the room gets mopped up, Karlach gets to do a little wave at Vlaakith, and we go to meet the Dream Visitor. (I decided to be Awful and modeled them almost precisely after Tezalin, my beloved paladin Tav who romanced Karlach on my first playthrough. Which, uh... I still haven't finished because I was procrastinating the ending before the epilogues were announced... and then I got distracted with tactician and honour mode...)
And this is where I discovered the THIRD major way that my backfiring plan actually saved my ass:
Wyll, who was ungrouped from the party and chilling in camp as our contingency plan, ALSO GOT YOINKED INTO THE PRISM.
Meaning he would have gotten spat right back out into a horde of angry githyanki with the rest of the team in the original plan, rendering his contingency status pretty much useless.
In conclusion:
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spacemonkeysalsa · 2 months
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God of Ambivalence
A tiefling Artificer trying to carve a new path for himself splits a large stone on a beach to discover something truly shocking: a wizard missing a hand and in need of a lot of help, and magical items. Lucky for the wizard, Elion happens to be a fount of magical items.
Pairing - OC/Gale & Shadowheart/Lae'zel but there will be more as it goes on.
Read Chapter One on Ao3
Read Chapter Three on Ao3
or read Chapter Three, below
The second time in her life that Shadowheart saw Master Faydor’s big tiefling apprentice was when he came bursting into her study carrying a mostly dead wizard in his arms. She couldn’t remember the tiefling’s name, but that hardly seemed important given the circumstances. 
“I don’t know what’s wrong with him,” the tiefling confessed. “Besides that he seems to have suffered a traumatic amputation of the right hand, and he was much worse a few minutes ago; absorbing magic seems to have tempered his condition, somewhat.”
Not to judge, but she wouldn’t have expected so thorough an explanation from the master stonemason, let alone his new apprentice. “Absorbing magic?” she repeated, rising from her study and motioning instead to the dining table near the back of her study. It wasn’t ideal for surgery, but nothing about the ruined sanctum was ideal, and it wouldn’t be for some time, at this rate. She cleared off what she could so that the tiefling could put his charge down. 
“He’s a wizard, he was trapped inside a stone. There might be someone after him, we ran into a cambion assassin on the way?” Either the tiefling was growing more confused as he spoke, or—
Shadowheart finally got a good look at her unexpected patient and froze. He’d looked worse than this a few minutes ago? That seemed like it would have been a challenge. Even a cursory examination of him told her there was little that wasn’t wrong with him. His skin was graying—that could be a lot of things—something necrotic still lingered in the air around him, but there was also a kind of acrid burning scent, something that seemed to warn her to stay back.
The stumped right hand was crudely treated. It almost looked as though he’d simply used a fire cantrip against his own ragged flesh. Her blood chilled as something else the tiefling had said rang in her mind. “Did you say he was inside a stone?”
“I split a large stone and—”
“Where?!” but she knew. Gods. To think.
“Near the old crash ruins?”
What exactly had she thought happened to the owner of the hand asking for help on the beach? She’d only known Prisia an hour. She didn’t know what her new friend was capable of. They needed each other, and Shadowheart was desperate. Her tolerance for cruelty was a lot higher back than. It had to be.
The amputation wound and its haphazard cauterization looked fresh. It had been a hundred years since the incident. The man might be a wizard but he was human. And alive. Likely, only a little changed since the day she’d stood in shock as Prisia maimed him, in a blissful, violent trance.
He must have managed some kind of status. She wasn’t sure how such a thing was possible. But, she thought she could guess the implications.
Graying skin.
“Good gods, he’s undergoing ceremorphosis. Rapidly.”
“What?!” The tiefling balked, “How can you possibly—what?! Like when a mind flayer—”
Again, the tiefling impressed her. He knew about ceremorphosis. An odd novice tradesman indeed.
“Lucky for him, many decades back now, I made it a point to learn how to remove an embedded tadpole. We can deal with whatever else is wrong with him, once I have that worm out of his skull.” She was surprised by how calm she felt. She’d only gotten the opportunity to remove tadpoles a few times in her life, usually, from the heads of infected githyanki who her wife had intercepted on their unwitting way to a ghustil. But, it was easy, once you had the chance to practice. 
She hadn’t even blinded anyone before.
“This will be easy with tools, could you—” Somehow, he’d already found them. She’d have to ask about that later. Out of all the possessions in her study, he’d zeroed in on the black leather satchel where she kept some of her more delicate instruments, as well as tonics that could help with bleeding and pain. “Thank you." She’d let it go for now, but felt him give her a double-take out of the corner of her eye, she must have given something away in a look.
The instruments she used were of her own design. In her early career, she was much more suited to inflicting pain than to execute surgical measures. Many of these silver trinkets were variations on favorites that she’d used as a torturer. She’d occasionally wondered if that part of her past somehow aided in having a steady hand now, when it came time to cut into the body for a beneficial purpose. She’d never exactly liked causing harm to others, but she’d gotten to the point where it didn’t affect her, and then she’d come out the other side again, but that physical resilience remained. 
“How can I help?” the tiefling asked, looking helplessly down at the man. 
“I’m giving him a sleeping potion, but hold him still, in case he wakes.”
The big tiefling followed instruction. Maybe Xan could ask his name when he arrived later tonight and just sort of tell her when no one was looking.
She couldn’t get him to swallow, but hopefully enough of the potion went down his throat to affect him. She could feel something dark and pulsing against her arm as she steadied herself on his chest. He felt so weak. She was worried if she forgot herself and up too much pressure downwards, she’d crack his ribs. He was emaciated—not like from long term starvation, but his body was definitely hungry and thirsty, maybe that would work in their favor as he drank more of the potion spilled in his mouth. 
“Don’t be alarmed, this part is horrible.” She warned the tiefling lightly as she coated her instrument and began to gently remove the man’s eye from his skull. It only gushed a little blood, which was quite impressive.
“Oh, Gond!”
She’d tried to warn him.
“It’s an enlargement transfiguration, something I derived from elixir of the colossus." She explained, as the eye and more importantly, its optical cords, grew and lengthened to double their size. “It’s to make it less likely that I nick anything important back there. Oh, well. This little one is going to make it quite easy,” she found the worm curled, not too deep, and barely moving. Like its host, the creature appeared to be in bad shape. Its tendrils were dipping into the pink brain matter, but its grip was weak. It let go with only the merest prodding of her needles. After that, she only had to pluck it from his head and place it in its own little jar. She’d gotten the tadpole alive this time, that was always especially satisfying.
Carefully, she shrank the extended and swollen eye back to its usual size, simultaneous with sliding it back into place. It was not going to feel good, but she could already see a bit of color returning to him, now that the tadpole’s interference was gone.
“Just like that?!” The tiefling was still holding onto the man’s shoulders.
“Don’t get any ideas, it’s usually not quite so simple, or so smooth.” She sighed and held up the bottle to look at the little tadpole, still sleepily curled around itself. The creature didn't even seem aware that it wasn’t tucked into someone’s brain any longer. Hopefully, the time it had spent inside the man’s skull hadn’t done too much permanent damage to him. The patients she’d followed up on in the past, usually mentioned lingering symptoms of memory loss and headaches, but she hadn’t known any of them to suffer anything too tragic as a result of the brain damage caused by the worm’s occupancy. “This one’s a century old. And it used to be wrapped in Netherese magic, held in status. That magic was broken a long time ago. It should have been killed, long ago. But, whatever status your wizard was in must have superseded its transformation as well as protected it from total destruction. It’s been trapped, just like him, until you split that stone and interrupted that status.”
“How do you know all that?” The tiefling's finger slipped under the fabric of the man's robes and he rubbed his man’s shoulders where he slept. It seemed an unconscious gesture.
“He was on that ship, the one that crashed. He must’ve been.” Something about that conclusion made a horrible kind of sense to her and left her feeling guiltier than she had in many decades. “I was there.” Shadowheart tried not to sound too miserable when she said it. “I could’ve…” What could she have done? Thrown herself between a Bhaalspawn’s ripping fangs and the man’s arm?
Of course, she hadn’t known that Prisia was Bhaalspawn at the time. She just thought she’d made a quite brain damaged friend, troubled from all they’d been through in the crash, and more besides, but that wasn’t her business. At the time. “That was my first brush with ceremorphosis. Being captured aboard that ship. After surviving the crash—”
“You were on that ship?” The tiefling gestured at the stark walls of the ruined sanctum, in roughly what he must have guessed was the direction of the beach. His sense of direction was quite bad. He was clearly gifted in other ways, so she tried not to hold it against him. “The one that’s in pieces and has been for a hundred years?”
“Yes, I was infected on board, with many others. It’s not the kind of thing you live through without gaining an interest in how to deal with it ever happening again.” Shadowheart tapped her tools where she’d left them on the dining table next to the man. “I’m afraid I was also present when this man lost his hand. Right after the crash.”
“A hundred years ago?” The tiefling shook his head, an unconscious gesture that indicated he thought she was full of shit. But, still, he listened, eyes falling back down onto the man.
The wizard appeared better already, though still in desperate need of her attention. His pallor was improved, but he was still filthy with whatever castoff sludge he’d presumably been cocooned inside of, preventing ceremorphosis, preventing time itself from touching him, it seemed. The magical nature of the stuff was apparent from all its features and its heavy scent. She needed to clean him up, but she also needed samples.
A ruckus from outside the door of her study interrupted the various hikes her thoughts were taking. She had a split second to guess it was Xan, finally having arrived, when the door opened and she saw she was quite wrong. It wasn’t Xan, but instead, it was her wife, Lae’zel.
Lae’zel, fresh from battle, it seemed, as she had a ghaik head dangling from her off-hand. She gripped it by the tentacles, so its upside-down face stared with wide empty orange eyes into the room beyond. Silver blood dripped down her calf and onto the floor. She wore her armor again. It had been some time since Shadowheart had seen her in it and in spite of many years of growing utterly familiar and used to one another, her heart stirred. “My love,” she sighed when their eyes met.
Shadowheart heard a thump but didn’t see the ghaik head hit the floor, she was already halfway across the room, but when she reached Lae’zel her hands were open and ready to hold her.
For the ten thousandth time, they met under conditions that precluded their desires to greet each other properly. “Is that from our plane?”
“No, we’re safe,” Lae’zel assured her, then her burning amber eyes slide to the other figures in the room. “Is your patient going to die if you spend ten seconds in my arms?”
“I don't imagine he will,” Shadowheart embraced her wife. She smelled like weave grass, but tasted like herself, a hint of the astral plane, soft as waxlight and warm as dusk.
“I thought Xan would get there before me.”
“So did I, he’s running late,” Shadowheart gestured to the unconscious wizard on the table. “Unfortunately, we may both owe this one an apology. If he lives?”
“I do not know this istik." Lae’zel seemed doubtful, but looked to Shadowheart for further explanation. “An apology is not so easily won from me. Why should I?” 
“Prisia,” Shadowheart sighed.
“Prisia?” Lae’zel looked surprised, but there was something more in her eyes, a touch of genuine concern, and… nostalgia.
“You remember the story of what Prisia did to that wizard who was stuck in the stone? What she did to his arm?” Shadowheart again gestured to the man on the table again.
“Gnawed his hand off at the wrist, like a wild beast possessed. Didn’t even eat it then, did she? Astarion told me about it,” Lae’zel’s eyes fell on the man’s severed limb, but didn’t react right away.
“I told you about it!” Shadowheart reminded her.
“Astarion tells it better—this can’t be the same istik.”
“I think he is. I was there, and you were not. I tried to forget it, but I can still vividly recall every detail of the encounter,. Shadowheart gestured to the table. “It’s him, and it looks as though… for him, it was perhaps a day ago, at most. I have no explanation for that.”
“Interesting.” To someone unfamiliar with her manner, Lae’zel might appear as though she was having a very subdued reaction to this news, but Shadowheart recognized the dance of true interest in her sparking eyes as she looked the man over. “How does his dutiful lover fit in?”
It took both of them a moment to realize that Lae’zel was referring to the tiefling.
“Oh, no,” he said, uncomfortable, his hands sliding off the man’s shoulders as he stepped away. “I found him, but I don’t even know him. Just—couldn’t let him die. I’m Elion, well met.” He added his introduction, and to Shadowheart’s surprise, he offered a bow. Did he know something of githyanki culture? Just full of surprises, the young stonemason was.
“Well met.” Lae’zel inclined her head in response, then turned back to her wife. “I hardly think we bare responsibility for the unhinged actions of a long dead friend—and to be frank, I came to trust Prisia’s judgment. Perhaps she chewed his hand off for a reason.”
“She explicitly did not," said Shadowheart.
“Chk.”
“Your friend attacked this man? That’s why he’s in this state?” Elion was looking more confused with this new information, but Shadowheart supposed that was the more reasonable response possible.
“He had this behind his eye." Shadowheart showed the tadpole to Lae’zel, where it was sleepily becoming more aware every second.
Lae’zel’s lips curled at the sight. “Shall I give it to the cats to hunt?”
“I’d like to examine it,” Elion interrupted, walking around the table.
Lae’zel took a step back, appreciating how enormous the tiefling was with a sweep of her eyes.
“You would?” Shadowheart tried to put the emphasis on ‘would’ rather than ‘you’ but somewhat lost control of her surprise in the moment. “What are you hoping to find?”
“Illithid tadpoles are a rare find, and they have unique properties on many levels. If there’s any arcane knowledge that I could personally glean… It might be helpful.” He finished, somewhat sheepish at the request.
“Helpful in the realm of stonemasonry?” Shadowheart challenged him lightly.
“I do have some education in other areas of study.” He was still being cagey, but Elion’s smokey cheeks seemed to take on a slightly maroon underhue. “Truthfully, I’m a poor stonemason, aspiring to some degree of competency. I’ve spent most of my life learning the arcane arts, and how to apply the arcane to items to enhance their intended purpose.”
“An Artificer?” Lae’zel sized him up in earnest now.
“As such.” Elion shrugged in a way that stank of false modesty, but Shadowheart resisted the urge to laugh. His shimmering, black eyes came alive as he glanced around the study, “if you’d permit it, there are actually several things within sight I’d like to examine.”
Was this actually the first time he’d been in her study, or had he been skulking around when she was out and about? Shadowheart’s set up in the ruined sanctum wasn’t ideal, but without a clear plan for how long she’d be staying, she’d tried to make it feel like home. She’d cleaned the study (the sudden addition of silver illithid blood aside) and brought several artefacts that she’d collected during her lifetime to make the place feel less like camping out in the wilderness.
It had, sort of, worked. “Later,” she wasn’t sure if she was being sincere, or just trying to put him off for now. “I think your master may be in need of your assistance, elsewhere. Lae’zel, would you condescend to assist me in tending to this strange charge?”
Lae’zel looked neither surprised, nor thrilled, at the question. “Fine.”
Dismissed, Elion looked nothing short of crestfallen. He’d get over it. Shadowheart needed her wife, needed to talk to her, and needed her reliable, endless energy. He must have realized that he was officially intruding, because he sort of nodded and shuffled off without another word.
Once he was gone, Lae’zel unfolded her arms and turned back to her wife, voice softening. “I maintain that we don’t owe this… very sticky mess, anything. Misfortune befell him, that is all. But, I’ll admit, I am curious to know what he has to say. And, I suppose it’s a small bother for such a talented cleric to keep him alive.”
“Glad you see it my way after all.”
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veilkeeper · 6 months
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Tav questions for Serenity: 9 + 13 + 14 + 16 + 26 (can you tell i like color schemes) + 33 + 58
a rare serenity ask.... alright here we go, i'll do my best but a lot of this is going to be subject to change when i actually get around to his pt
(questions from here)
9. What is your Tav’s biggest priority or goal?
this is so interesting bc theres like, the goal serenity is working towards and says he wants, and then there's the thing he actually wants but does nothing about. pre-tadpole, he'd tell you his goals align with his father's - he intends to do as is expected of him. secretly, however, he wants nothing more than to be rid of the Urge. post-tadpole, he's more honest about his goals.
13. How does your Tav fight in a combat situation?
so. a lot of people build their durges as like. sneaky assassin types. and i get that, it makes sense with the whole god of assassins, murder in the shadowy streets of baldur's gate thing. serenity however is a bladelock with a big fuck-off sword. he can stealth, he just doesnt care to once he's in an actual fight. he's a bit of a show-off - he likes letting people know he's got tricks up his sleeve and he can and will kill them. he likes when people are scared of him and his power before they die.
14. Does your Tav know any other languages besides Common? 
i really want to say yes, but truthfully, probably not. he spent most of his life in the temple of bhaal and i just dont think they're doing language lessons in there.
(putting the rest under the cut)
16. Which of the companions does your Tav trust most? 
extremely subject to change when i start vibe checking people but i suspect serenity is going to gravitate towards people in the moral middle-ground. he'll like astarion but not trust him, he'll like wyll but not trust him. lae'zel is more loyal to her people/queen than she'd ever be to him, etc. anyone too good or too morally dubious will raise his hackles, and anyone with loyalties that might conflict with his safety will do the same. so i think the best candidates for Trusted Besties are shadowheart and gale. keep in mind that especially in the early days, serenity is (ironically much like astarion) picking who he's trying to tie to him as insulation for if that Ominous Bloodlust in his head ever becomes a problem.
26. What is the most prominent color in your Tav’s color scheme?
pre-tadpole serenity followed typical temple of bhaal dress, a lot of black with red accents. gortash could... occasionally... convince him to wear nicer clothes and when that happened he liked to experiment with different colours. he's already playing dress up, right? might as well be completely out of character. it's not like he likes it............ shut up. post-tadpole he wears whatever he wants, and i will have so much fun experimenting with dyes to see what colour i like on him.
33. What is your Tav’s relationship with their family?
serenity intentionally stomps down any memory of their foster family, he does not want to think about them. not because they were awful but because they were so good and theyre the only victims of his he's ever felt bad about (not that he'd admit it). that leaves orin as his only "family" and... i think he wants them to be friends. i think he wants them to not be antagonistic towards each other, he wants them to be a team. but their father constantly pits them against each other and orin fucking hates him for being the Golden Child, so instead he does his best to keep things as civil as possible while knowing he's going to have to kill her one day.
58. What decision would your party have to make in order for Tav to consider splitting off from the group?
short of grabbing pitchforks and going after him, nothing. serenity is taking all of his moral cues from the gang since he's pretty sure what he thinks is cool is... an outlier opinion. like he's not going to try to take the moral high ground anywhere, because he was fantasizing about finding a nice spot to watch the goblins and tieflings tear each other apart.
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des-no9 · 6 months
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10, 18, 23, 30 for the character asks!
Answered a few of these before so I've pasted some answers, but also added in a couple bits too ^^
10: Are they proficient in playing any instruments?
Actually yes! Vanquish came from a family of singers, bards, actors. They travelled a lot when she, her sister and brother were tiny putting on plays and musicals with their troupe, but as they got a little older, they settled in a city and her father became quite prolific and set up his own company and theatre.
After shit happened, she kind of got out of practice with a lot of what she learned when younger, except the lyre. She kept playing that all her years, and can still play it beautifully to this day.
Although, it's rare she will.
She'd really love to learn a different instrument, though. It was picking up the lyre and playing during her journey through BG3 that brought back some of her memories - and while thankful, she also wished she could have kept them locked away, for it also reminded her why the lyre is the instrument that lingered.
18: What would your Tav be doing if they weren't kidnapped on the Nautiloid?
I think Van would probably have ended up in one of these scenarios:
1: slowly have her memory return by itself about her past and Nezarr and get as far the fuck away from this place and people as possible, maybe jump on a pirate ship or onto a travelling theatre caravan on to a new adventure, a new world 2: be picked up by Nezarr before any memories start to return and the cycle starts once more 3: her memories refuse to return for a long time and she sets up home and shop somewhere new of what she used to do - divination, tarot and tea leaf readings etc for the locals, Caiphon eventually gifting her, her pet familiar cyclops fox named Onyx
23: What do they do after the absolute crisis?
Alright. Well. This is a long one, enjoy.
Neither of the canon endings really make me happy and work for Vanquish, so I'm rewriting in that tldr; Emps and Orpheus both survive and work together after Vanquish hauling Voss in to help her talk these two into working together to defeat the brain. Then Vanquish pretty much having to body block Orpheus afterwards to stop him ripping The Emperor apart, Voss and Lae'zel one arm each.
Quietly, she says a long, meaningful goodbye to The Emperor and Karlach, who became a mindflayer, and they go off together and start living their lives as they wish, flitting between the Underdark and a home beneath BG.
After a few tense nights hovering by Voss and Lae'zel's sides with the githyanki as they recover and prepare to leave for one of Voss' hidden outposts, Vanquish is sort of, panicking really. Suddenly she'd built up a small group of close, trusted friends and those she could maybe even call more, and now just, everyone's leaving. Everyone has their own lives to fix, to recover.
And she'll once again be alone.
For while at the githyanki camp, she feels like she fits in, at least with Voss and Lae'zel, and she'd burn the world for them. And after what they'd did for them, she knows those loyal to Orpheus and Voss may as well at least listen to her. Respect her. One day see a friend, too.
Voss commands a LOT of respect over the githyanki that follow him, so them seeing him start to see an istik as an equal, they follow.
Orpheus however, Vanquish and he kinda clash. He knows he owes so much to her for what she did for him, their people, but being freed after millenias in chains and silence kinda kicks the hornets nest of emotions for a bit. He'll get there. Also, Voss adores her. And for Voss to adore someone like her, she must have worth, meaning. However, it also stings that Voss adores her.
When they leave, Voss and Lae'zel promise they'll be back for her when they're ready, if she still wants to join their rebellion, and become an honorary warrior. Voss hands her one half of a very old sending stone pair, carved in tir'su that isn't even used anymore, letting her know that either he or Lae'zel will use the other half.
And they kept to their word. Voss returns to her one day on Qudenos to pick her up, and take her to her new home, if that's what she still wants.
(all the while she'd been setting up home in a small, solitary house far outside Baldur's Gate, sometimes checking in with The Emperor and Karlach, sometimes Gale or Astarion. Vanquish used to do a lot of tarot readings, tea leaves, divination stuff etc before all this went down, so she kinda picks that up for a while before Voss comes swooping in)
So, Vanquish in the end joins the githyanki rebellion because of her love for Voss, Lae'zel. And eventually she grows to love Orpheus too, and actually they become weirdly close in that 'you're someone I can sit in a room with for 8 hours and do absolutely nothing with but feel so comfortable and make you a cup of tea without asking and the only word you'll say is thanks and that's fine'.
Also. She steals all of Orpheus' clothes. Until Voss gets her some custom githyanki leather/cloth/fur armour made, as she can't wear anything too heavy because of her burn scars.
He also might gift her a custom githyanki circlet <3
Orpheus refuses to let her have her own dragon though. It's something weird he can't get pat. An istik on a dragon, but also how the knowledge of the dragons were obtained never really leaves him. He's always had a complicated relationship with them. Even after Voss and Qudenos insisted he have his own, Qudenos picking one of his close mates for Orpheus when he and Voss were very young. She always rides with either Lae'zel or Voss. Qudenos takes her out for cheeky solo rides, now and then.
tldr; she joins the githyanki rebellion and a polycule of her, Voss and Orpheus.
30: What's your favorite thing about your Tav?
I think, despite everything that's happened to her, what she's capable of and still does, the sound of her laughter, the kindness in her smile when she adores you, the playfulness she's kept, and somewhere in there in time, her desire to just love, and be loved.
Aesthetically, her skintone is like the Astral Sea, with her navy and white freckles, along with her burn from her patron(s) that kind of melted a large patch of her skin to a strange nebula.
Also:
-her fat fucking ass -her fearlessness, that's sometimes impulsive stupidity
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ferretseal · 7 months
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This is Zih'zur, my Githyanki barbarian tav.
Please excuse my bad screenshots. I'm not very good at it and it's on PlayStation so I have to open a menu to do it. There's also some backstory and such under the cut, including a possibility OOC Lae'zel.
Zih'zurs camp outfit is blue now but y'know it doesn't really matter
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Lae'zel watches and listens to Zih'zur do things that aren't strictly Gith, things that she personally wouldn't do because it's a waste of time or energy to her. But she won't argue when the leader of the group says it might be helpful for one reason or another. After all, Zih'zur is more familiar with this land and probably has a plan for everything (she doesn't).
First she chocks it up to different creshs have different standards, and perhaps Zih'zurs cresh was one that was more lenient. But she fights well and is determined enough to get what she wants, and she follows orders well enough. When she hears that Zih'zur attempted/wanted to be a bard when she was young, it kinda solidifies that.
But when she hears about her Zih'zur was burned, not in training or by her peers, not even in a stupid accident that only the 8 intelligence Zih'zur could get into, but because she was woken up one day by her mentor with embers being thrown into her face. It was a punishment, for what? Being late, but the training she was late for wasn't a scheduled thing but something that the mentor didn't tell her about, how was she supposed to go to extra training if she didn't know about it in the first place?
That doesn't make sense, she can't be punished for not following orders when no orders were given. And such a harsh punishment for a child for something as simple as being late. It would normally be a harsh smack, maybe a cut from a blade if it's an often occurrence, but not burning her face in her sleep. But Zih'zur doesn't seem to think that, and says "I was a bad kid. I probably deserved it."
Zih'zur once met a bard, someone who brought stories from distant lands from people of all kinds of races, bringing the stories to wherever they went. She heard many stories from them, of heroes who brought tyrants to their knees, brave and loyal knights, and people who could heal those inches from death with meat words. But this bard had no stories about Githyanki warriors, scholars, or even just workers. Not one grand raid, not one mighty dragon rider, not even one powerful warcry.
What an injustice! That everyone else gets to have stories taken far beyond what they can reach but the Githyanki do not! It had to be made right! The world should know their stories too! And Zih'zur was going to do it! Seeing her passion and determination, the bard gifted her a lute. Something he no longer needed or wanted, having much better instruments at his disposal.
And when she wasn't training or in class, Zih'zur practiced. She put lessons and tales to music and melody, her fingers gaining rough callouses in the shape of the strings. Her singing voice was rough, but it didn't matter as long as people could listen and know the words.
But her mentor saw it as a waste of time and energy. He didn't think that these songs were worthwhile, and forced Zih'zur to abandon her little project. He took the lute and used it as kindling.
When out on the road, trying to find a cure for the tadpole that was forced into her skull, she found a lute just like the one that was taken from her. She could've sold it for some reasonable coin, but she didn't. Instead she stowed it away in her traveling chest, and only took it out to fiddle with it in the late evening. Something to help calm her mind, the old, half made melodies coming back to her and being expanded on. It would be a little secret now though, and something she'd drop once this was all over.
Zih'zur is a raging barbarian. Every solution to every problem is it hit it, yell at it, or both. She's quick to fire up and slow to simmer down. Sometimes, someone has to cast sleep on her and force her into an impromptu nap. But she's otherwise rather likeable. Annoying? probably. Boisterous? Definitely. Loud? What?! Yea!.
But she really likes animals, both to look at and know about, and to hunt. And she's a very hunter. But she likes to know about the animals too. Helsin enjoys telling her about them too.
One day, the group visits a carnival/faire things and she gets into a competitive bet with Karlach and ends up going so hard on a game, winning so hard that the carnie is pretty much forcing a prize into her hands and ushering her away. And Zih'zur, never seeing what this stuffed animal is supposed to be immediately runs to Helsin to figure it Out. It's a Pangolin, made of leather work scraps. But Zih'zur gets really attached to this plushie. It's always in her tent and if she's having a particularly rough day it rides around on her shoulder at camp. Lae'zel thinks it's pretty silly, childish, but doesn't say much because at the end of the day she really doesn't actually care.If Zih'zur is having a really rough night, and holes up in her tent because she doesn't want to look weak or anything to the others and really can't handle being around people at the moment, Lae'zel quietly dropped the toy into her lap and left her alone the rest of the night until she was ready to be around people again. She cares, if quietly.
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alteredsilicone · 8 months
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The Dark Urge : Act I
A long ramble about my Dark Urge playthrough, split up between acts since this game gets meaty.
This is my third playthrough so more or less I knew what I was getting into (had some durge story bits spoiled too).
When I set out to play durge I also wanted to do an "evil" playthrough, so I set some goals: embrace the "big" durge decisions, be evil when possible without going full murder-hobo. Ally with Gortash, dominate the Brain. Make SH a Dark Justiciar, ascend Astarion, romance Minthara, push Gale towards Godhood and help Lae'zel stay loyal to Vlaakith. The results were... varied.
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Recruiting Minthara meant the tieflings had to die, so I indulged the durge by watching Arabella die. Surprisingly this way the game guilt trips you less about doing bad things. (The guilt tripping aspect I will bring up at the very end, after my Act III retrospective)
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I quickly learned why durge x Astarion is a popular ship - he really jumps on you from the very beginning, a total 180 to how he treats Tav. Anyways, he wasn't my romance goal so I let him be. For a while.
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Alfira is one of my favorites, but she had to go. Sorry. I know there is an alternative by making a different NPC appear but I wanted an authentic(tm) durge experience. Besides, Alfira would die in the grove massacre anyways, two birds with one stone and all.
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Dream Guardian interlude - I made her look like my first version of Viri, so it's a Viriception.
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Since I'm collecting all the "evil" choices, I also decided to indulge the tadpoles. Partly for achievements, partly to see how it works. Truth be told I didn't use the tadpole skills too much, so if I replay durge (I might do for certain different story outcomes), I will ignore the tadpoles altogether.
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Sceleritas Fel was an excellent addition, obviously I humored and indulged him since I wanted to be papa's most specialest murderer.
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As I was allying with the goblins I explored some stuff I didn't previously - got shackled up by Gut. Escaping her was quite easy, just had to avoid her afterwards. Then I rushed to Minthara.
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I love Minthara's character a lot - she stayed in my party throughout the whole game. Needless to say, but I killed Karlach for Wyll (and stupidly didn't get his armor because I forgot to put him in my party, oh well), Wyll left me when I attacked the Grove (I assume he died offscreen or I killed him without noticing) and I never even met Halsin so he also just died offscreen.
I could also rant about the whole "evil playthrough cuts you from 20% of the content" aspect, but that is a tired rant. I don't mind the grove massacre being the price you pay for Minthara joining your party (she IS an evil character, she straight up agrees with all evil actions together with Astarion and is totally on board with dominating the Absolute and becoming rulers yourself), I just wish there was some alternative with playing on the more evil side.
Maybe befriend goblins? More drow? Anything, really? Then again, BG3 is already a massive game... Oh well, you can't have everything.
Anyways, now that I have done the first big quest, I went to the Underdark to try out one specific thing:
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What happens if you sacrifice Gale to the fish people before Elminster stabilizes the orb?
He aggros, you kill him and then after two in-game days this happens:
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Needless to say, I reloaded a save and just humored the fish people without killing Gale. Besides, for a corruption arc he needs to live. This is also why I only indulged the "big" durge reactions...
My personal philosophy is that being a murder-hobo is a boring way to be evil (death is not the worst thing that can happen y'know), I much rather would corrupt characters.
However, another part of me got curious about one thing: if you bite off Gale's hand when you find him in the portal, can you present it at the murder tribunal in Act 3?
Anyways.
Remember I said Astarion really gets the hots for durge? So, Minthara leaves for Moonrise so she isn't in my party at the moment this happens... durge decided to have some "fun".
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This sequence was very corny, but I know it's all part of Astarion's play-pretend so I just let it play out. Spoiler alert - I will friendzone him later (for his own good).
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I decided to feed durge the Noblestalk to get some memories/lore. I hoped for more but probably getting everything back in Act I would be anti-climatic, so this was a nice tidbit all the same. Also the environment bugged out, I should be in a dark dank cave, not outside.
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Gale also decided he likes me. I promptly friendzoned him. Trust me, Galey, you do not want a romantic adventure with this tiefling (also he is soulbound to Nila, my other Tav, can't have him cheating on his wife...).
Anyways, Gale is a funny case because Larian keeps mucking up his romance flags, I couldn't replay his romance scene with my actual Galemancer Tav, but the romance does trigger later in Act I when you farm some approval (so either in the Underdark or Creche, depending which path you go on). But it also bugs out (I had to long rest twice with my Tav as the first time it triggered tiefling party dialogue before promptly cutting out, probably a bug because it was an old save where the romance SHOULD have triggered during the party).
Anyways, moving on. I am jumping over some zones/quests because nothing particularly interesting happened (I helped the Myconids but I do that always so that's that, though I let Glut die while fighting the Duergar, not on purpose he just got felted, sorry big guy).
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Siding with this guy has exactly zero payoff (Act II spoiler - Balthazar turns him into a zombie and that's that), which is another evil run gripe. He is like Minthara where you can convince him to go against the Absolute, but instead it just goes nowhere apparently.
I just sided with him and suffered through killing a bunch of gnomes and Duergar. Well, at least I got some new scenes.
Astarion flirting interlude:
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I put this here because the durge evil face is just so funny. These two would make a disaster pair, but, alas, we in this house are women-loving-women.
So, remember me setting out to push Lae'zel towards loyalty to Vlaakith?
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I went as far as to stab the Dream Guardian...
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Obviously I should have known better, because the Guardian has plot-armor for obvious reasons. This game kinda sorta railroads you to go against Vlaakith/side with the Guardian. Otherwise the game would just end for obvious reasons... So I decided that I might just shelve Lae'zel along the way.
Maybe I should have made some other decisions in later acts (like killing Voss), but I had my companion-squad already with me, so I decided to let it go.
And that concludes a "brief" overview of durge Act I:
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