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thatfreshi · 7 months

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Radio Silent (Uni AU P. 10)

tw - mentions of abuse, themes of anxiety, general insecurity

The night fizzles out the way you expect it to, disappearing without a word to your friends in the diner, letting your new, yet reluctant friend, drive you home. You'd simply deal with Shadowheart when she got back to the dorm.

Just as Astarion said, he's gone the next morning, but the two of you text quite often. He finds it easier to talk to you through pixels on a screen, where he can pretend like you're not this very real person who knows far too much about him. On the plane ride to LA, he doesn't sleep, which isn't odd for him. Instead, he thinks about the past couple of days and how you've wriggled your way into his life, into his head. Instead of trying to put his feelings into tangible sentences, he makes a playlist while waiting the hours away and catches up on some much-needed reading.

Thursday comes around, and the group is pissed at him, as you expected them to be.

"Damnit, he's the reason we picked my lunch break to do this during anyways! You think he'd at least stick to plans like a reasonable individual."

"Gale, it's not like he chose to go on a spur-of-the-moment trip to California. It's a work thing, not in his control."

You almost sound a little angry when the words come out, knowing that he's probably going through some hell that all your friends don't know about. Gale picks up on this sentiment, and leaves the conversation at that, mumbling something about how they'll all just update him on the project details later. Indeed, you all talk in the group chat with him about plans for the upcoming assignment, which he sporadically responds to. Although, he always responds to your texts, even if he ignores the group chat. Astarion argues with himself about it in his head, trying to reason with himself, saying things like 'it's just because the group chat is overwhelming.' For how good of a liar he is, he's not good at lying to himself.

Friday morning, he goes radio silent, which you're not concerned by at first. He's busy, probably busier than you've ever been in your life. Yet, he had made time to text you since Monday night. It starts to worry you when Saturday and Sunday both pass with nothing new. You hold yourself back from asking if everything's alright, knowing if something is stressing him out it's probably better to just let him deal with it and get back to you. And yet, you don't talk to him until he's back, and you're not even the first one to hear that he's back on campus.

"Oh yeah, I saw him in the elevator earlier. Tried being nice like you said, I even waved! You should be proud. Doesn't seem like he appreciated it though."

Shadow rolls her eyes, almost covered by her bangs that she desperately needs to trim. You're not sure exactly why, but you rush to his dorm room, knocking frantically. It's Monday night, which is surprising. You could've sworn he said he'd be back Tuesday morning, but maybe you misremembered. The door creaks open.

"Oh, hello Tav."

Astarion's eyes are weary, which you chalk up to not being able to sleep on the plane.

"Hello? You haven't texted me since Thursday, what the hell? I thought you like died or something."

"Nope, not dead, very much alive. Got wrapped up in some work affairs over the weekend, fashion people can be quite dramatic. Either way, I apologize. I'm still quite new to the 'having a genuine friend' thing."

"Well, how's your arm?"

He scoffs.

"It's... it's fine. Weird to have someone ask."

At this point, he's opened the door and let you in. You're welcomed to a sight of half un-packed luggage and a stack of leather binded books on the coffee table.

"Holy shit Astarion, did you rob a bookstore while you were in California?"

"Nope, all from the library. Missing out on a week of school when you're a senior here comes with its disadvantages. For example, I have had no time to work on my thesis essay, and I've barely even unpacked from the trip itself. Although, I did snag this."

He takes out a garment bag that has been carefully finessed to fit in his suitcase without wrinkling whatever is hidden inside. His fingers nimbly move to unzip the bag, revealing a white faux fur coat.

"Now, do I wear too much white? Absolutely, but passing up on this? I could never."

You almost feel bad, not knowing anything about clothes or what makes them cool, but to your credit, you know it's a nice coat. He slips it on, happy with his latest thievery.

"Well, what do you think? Is it stunning, or is it stunning?"

In that moment, while you're about to make some quip like 'go look for yourself, you realize he has no mirrors in the dorm, not even in the bathroom that you've only ever caught a glance of.

"I would say look for yourself, but you don't have any mirrors. That's shocking."

"Well, I had the one in the bathroom removed. Guess I'm just not particularly a fan of reflections."

"How come?"

He stares at a detail on the sleeve of the coat.

"You get tired of seeing your face after a while."

"Well, I think it looks fabulous, and so do you."

"Wish I felt just as fabulous."

He lets out a small laugh, shrugging his way out of the blinding fabric. There's something left unsaid in the air, you can feel it as he goes to hang up his new treasure.

"What really happened this weekend?"

Astarion tenses, almost dropping the hanger he so delicately placed the jacket on.

"I... I'd rather not say. I know I told you a lot the other night, but there are truly some things best left as skeletons in the closet. Maybe in time, but not today. I can't today."

"That's okay. I was just worried, that's all."

"Funny, I'm so used to people prying all the time. It's pleasant, getting to have secrets when I talk to you."

He comes back out into the living room.

"Would you like to stay for a while? You don't have to help unpack or anything, just be here."

"Sure, as long as you don't mind. And I would gladly help you unpack. Besides, you have a master thesis to get back to."

"I suppose I do. Thanks, I won't forget this."

"What, like you need to trade some favor back or something? Because that's not necessary."

"You're too nice for your own good."

The pale man puts some soft R&B on, and the two of you go ahead and start putting all his things away. Although, he doesn't let you handle any of his nice clothes. You learn that the hard way when he bats your hand away from a pair of very expensive jeans.

"They're just jeans, I promise I won't taint them!"

"Yes, they are just jeans, but they're also 800-dollar jeans, and I am not risking it."

You continue to ask him about various articles of clothing, what shoots he took them from. He remembers every single one. Although, he does skip out on some details, brushing past parts of his tales without a second thought. You don't mind though, knowing it's probably just things he isn't ready to talk about. At some point you become distracted by the stack of books on the nearby table, and start looking at all the titles. They're all related to ethics, morality, or philosophy in some way, but particularly focused on the psychology of abusers and the abused.

"I thought you weren't a philosophy person?"

Astarion's voice almost makes you jump, taking you out of reading the back of one of the books.

"Is this what you're doing your thesis on?"

"I mean I'd like to, but I'm still not sure. Feel as though the head of the department will be surprised when I present it to him."

"How come?"

"Because I've always made my projects, lifeless, I guess. I've always written and studied by the book, never touched on emotional topics. Just don't want people asking questions."

"So, what specifically are you going to look into?"

"The philosophy of abusers, how power imbalances change our moral codes, that kind of thing."

You lightly place the book back in the stack.

"I think you should do it. If anyone asks, just say you were curious about it."

"That's true, I am known to be quite curious. Now, are you going to help me with the rest of this, or have you given up?"

The night passes by too fast for his liking, as the two of you talk while he prepares for the week ahead. It's past midnight when you finally check your phone, seeing that you've received a couple of cheeky messages about your absence from Shadow.

"Is it late already?"

Astarion checks him phone as well.

"Perhaps it's time for you to go get some sleep darling. After all, not everyone is as extreme of an insomniac as I am."

"Yeah, I guess I should probably get back. Happy you're back though, and that you're okay."

Without really thinking about it, you go for a side hug, and make your way to the door.

"See you tomorrow?"

"Sure. See you tomorrow Tav."

And his smile is warmer than normal, knowing there's something to look forward to after a torturous night of barely any sleep. Maybe opening up to a single soul isn't so bad after all.

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #angst #comfort #shadowheart #gale of waterdeep #freshiau

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songofsoma · 8 months

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the hands that heal

pairing: karlach x f!tav words: 1,385 rating: general

read it on ao3

Karlach dropped by the fire with a soft grunt, hoping nobody had heard the noise as she had used her wounded arm to balance her weight as she sat. It wasn’t anything too serious. Not when you compared it to everyone else who seemed to be dragging into camp by the skin of their teeth.

Asking Shadowheart for a quick healing spell was out of the question since she was in the worst shape out of them all. Her sweet Daefina had aided the cleric’s journey back to camp no matter how much Karlach insisted that she help as well. She was too determined to personally see everyone back safely.

Even bloody and bruised, Daefina assisted Shadowheart to her bunk, tending to what wounds she could before letting her simply rest. Karlach watched as she murmured something, most likely a promise to come to check on her in a bit.

It had been a brutal fight. They had started on a disadvantage by walking right into an ambush where they were severely outnumbered and the day had already been grueling, leading to exhaustion and prior injuries that needed tending to, only to get beat up some more.

Karlach’s gaze followed Daefina as she walked, noticing the slight limp in her gait. She was so worried about everyone but herself. Though, that was hypocritical of her to say when she sat trying to mask the slash up her forearm from a sword she wasn’t able to dodge quickly enough. An old rag was wrapped around it in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

Daefina approached the fire and sat beside Karlach with a tired sigh. It didn’t go unnoticed the way a hand rubbed her knee as if to soothe the pain away.

“What a fucking day,” Karlach said, anxious to break the silence before it settled.

She nodded and leaned against her. The added weight made Karlach settle back on her bad arm, failing to hold back a wince as the bloodied rag fell to the dirt.

Daefina looked up at her, brows furrowed. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” she lied too quickly. Her lover was too keen on every little detail.

Unconvinced, she stretched over her lap to inspect the arm propped up behind Karlach, spotting the cause despite her futile attempts to hide it. “Karlach,” she gasped, hands sliding down her bicep to try and catch the afflicted arm in her grasp. “Why didn’t you say something?”

She half shrugged as Daefina climbed over her legs to sit on her other side to inspect the injury. “Because it’s not a big deal.”

The sharp look she was given told her that was the wrong answer. “It’s a massive deal. It could get infected and then you could get sepsis and die, or we’d have to amputate—all because it was no big deal.”

Karlach dropped her head back with a defeated groan. “I just didn’t want you to worry, okay? Especially since the others were in worse shape. I’m not going to make a big thing out of a tiny cut.”

“It almost spans the entire inside of your forearm!” Daefina exclaimed in disbelief.

Karlach only shrugged again, unsure of what to say.

She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath before saying, “Wait here.”

There wasn’t much of a choice to do anything else as Daefina got to her feet and disappeared. Karlach stared into the fire, definitely not pouting for being scolded. She returned quickly, taking the same place by Karlach’s side, this time with a satchel and carafe of water in hand.

Silence spanned between them as Daefina pulled fresh cloths out of the bag, soaking them with water before carefully beginning to clean the wound. Karlach’s arm was cradled gently in her lap as she worked, all her attention focused on tending the wound with the least amount of pain.

Karlach had lost count of how many battles she had fought in her life. Her entire existence after being sold to Zauriel was to fight and kill. The span of her body was littered with evidence. It didn’t just stop at the engine where her heart used to be, scars from poorly healed wounds covered her skin and the flesh on her right shoulder was a gnarled mess of burn scars. Runes had even been carved into her horns, marking her as property of the Hells. There was no tender care where she came from. There was only survival. To nurse wounds meant death. She carried on, no matter how bad, for her own survival. So being cared for in such a manner was foreign to her. She wasn’t used to her well-being becoming a priority to someone.

Hells, she wasn’t used to being loved.

Karlach watched quietly as Daefina gently patted the gash dry before tossing the bloody towel to the side. She twisted to dig in her satchel and produced a jar that smelled strongly of herbs when the lid was popped open.

She met the curious gaze and smiled softly. “A poultice to help staunch any more bleeding,” Daefina explained, spreading a thick layer over her forearm. “It’ll also help keep it clean and heal.”

Karlach nodded, fascinated by her actions.

Daefina began to bind her arm with bandages, keeping the poultice in place. She did it was such care, asking if it was too tight and double-checking that it was secure when she finished. “Now,” she mused, wiping her hands on her pants. “Was that so difficult?”

“No.” She examined the druid’s handiwork. It was almost as if she could feel the wound already beginning to heal. Or maybe that was all in her head. “I’m just…” Karlach trailed off for a moment, unsure if she should finish her sentence.

“Just?” Daefina prompted.

She rolled her lips together anxiously before continuing. “Not used to being cared for.”

Her face turned into one of understanding and then into sorrow. “Oh, Karlach,” Daefina whispered, crawling onto her lap to draw her into a hug. “You are everything to me. I love you so much that sometimes it scares me. It hurts me to see you hurt, but it hurts even more when you think you don’t deserve to be cared for.”

Karlach sank into the embrace, nuzzling her face into her neck. She smelt of sweat and the earth and Karlach savored it before resting her head on Daefina’s shoulder. That scent meant she was alive and close to her. “I love you too. I just don’t know how to be looked after yet. I’m so used to having to watch my own back that I don’t know how to let someone else do it too.”

“It’ll take time, but you and I have forever to figure that out.” She planted a kiss on Karlach’s temple, fingers beginning to run through her hair. “But no matter what, I will always be here to look out for you. It’s my job as your girlfriend, you know.”

She chuckled. “Didn’t know that came in the contract, but I’ll take it.”

“You better,” Daefina teased and pulled back, tucking a wild strand of hair behind Karlach’s ear, her thumb lingering to run over its pointed shell. “I’m serious, though. I love you too much to lose you. Please at least try to let me help.”

Karlach’s hands fell onto her hips as Daefina straddled her. They were so close that their noses nearly brushed together. “I’ll do my best.”

“And that’s all I’m asking.” She kissed her once before patting her shoulder and standing. “Now, go get ready for bed. I need to check on Shadowheart first, but I want to be the little spoon tonight.”

“But I’ll already be in bed and I’m injured, so don’t I get dibs on the little spoon?” Karlach grinned.

Daefina narrowed her eyes at her. “Fine, but only because you’re an invalid.”

Karlach snorted a laugh and caught her hand before she could get too far, beckoning her to bend down for one more parting kiss. “Maybe I’ll even be naked.”

That made her roll her eyes, but a smile couldn’t be stopped. “Don’t even think about it. I’m too exhausted to handle you tonight and you know I can’t resist you.”

She watched Daefina cross their camp, smiling the entire time.

#all i want is for karlach to be loved and cherished #karlach #bg3 karlach #karlach x tav #karlach x f!tav #my writing #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #badlurs gate 3 #oc: daefina #karlach demonsbane

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wyllzel · 2 months

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🔗 Link to Google Doc.

This is how I’ve been building Shadowheart in my past few playthroughs! Unfortunately, this build is not very thematic for a Cleric of Shar – but it does do a lot of the legwork in Act 2. This build is particularly thematic for a Cleric of Lathander, Corellon Larethian, Eilistraee, and Helm, who are all Light Domain deities… and, due to this build’s effectiveness in Act 2, possibly Selûne. 💡✨

The goal of this Light Domain Cleric is to deal Radiant Damage and apply the Radiating Orb condition to anything that dares to enter Shadowheart’s general vicinity. The undead fear her; shadows evaporate in her presence. It is glorious. I now refuse to play Act 2 without my beloved Radiating Orb Beyblade of Death (Shadowheart). 😁

The focus for this guide is on ability scores and gear interaction. Some of this gear includes the Luminous Armor (Act 1), the Blood of Lathander (Act 1), and Luminous Gloves (Act 2).

This Light Domain Cleric build is phenomenal in Act 2, but still does enough damage output to carry its weight in Acts 1 and 3. Light Domain’s special Channel Divinity action, Radiance of the Dawn, is excellent when dealing with clusters of Invisible enemies (such as Duergar, Shadow Creatures, and Bhaalists).

(Fair warning: Possible spoilers ahead!)

Leveling

Please note that this guide is really just my personal preference! I recommend fully reading through the Wiki page on BG3’s Cleric so you get a good idea of what this class can do. In this guide, I’ve added a star (⭐) next to each of the class features or spells that I especially like.

To start with, I’ll recommend these base stats:

In the early game (Act 1), it’s a good idea to keep Shadowheart’s Wisdom and Dexterity Ability Scores up. Wisdom affects Shadowheart’s spellcasting effectiveness, while Dexterity affects her Armor Class (AC) and Initiative in combat.

But the most important score for this build (after Wisdom) is Constitution. The first feat I recommend addresses this (Resilient), as do my preferred boots on her (Boots of Striding).

The Cleric class has prepared spells, so I’ll just make a note of the feats I take in this section!

Level 4

Feat: Resilient = Constitution

By taking the Resilient Feat, Shadowheart gains +1 to her Constitution Ability Score as well as proficiency in Constitution Saving Throws. This will help her maintain Concentration spells such as Spirit Guardians.

Level 8

Feat: Ability Score (ASI) = +2 WIS

Level 12

Feat: Ability Score (ASI) = +2 WIS

Honor Mode

The above is a pretty good set-up for the Explorer, Balanced, and Tactician difficulties. However, if you’d like to make Tactician mode easier on yourself or you’re planning on taking her to Honor Mode, I’d recommend the following set-up instead:

Level 4

Feat: Ability Score (ASI) = +1 CON, +1 WIS

Level 8

Feat: Alert ⭐

Level 12

Feat: Ability Score (ASI) = +2 WIS, or

Feat: War Caster (Advantage on Constitution Saving Throws to maintain Concentration)

In Honor Mode, having high Initiative can make a huge difference, especially when fights get more intense – hence the Alert Feat at Level 8!

Final Composition

By Level 12, Shadowheart can have the following notable qualities:

Due to Light Domain, Shadowheart will have:

Warding Flare (Level 1) – As Shadowheart levels up, she’ll eventually have Improved Warding Flare (Level 6), which allows her to use a Reaction to impose Disadvantage on an Attack Roll against either herself or an ally.

Potent Spellcasting (Level 8) – Add your Wisdom Modifier to the Damage of your Cleric Cantrips.

Access to select non-Cleric spells – Flaming Sphere, Scorching Ray, Fireball, Wall of Fire, and Destructive Wave.

Recommended Spells List

The following list are the Cleric spells I tend to favor. Because Light Domain Clerics have a lot of great offensive spells (hello, Fireball and Flame Strike!), I usually have Shadowheart running offensive rather than defensive (healing, buffs). She’s like a fake Evocation Wizard, haha.

Basically, I tend to favor (usually AOE) spells that deal some amount of Radiant Damage. While Sacred Flame is notoriously easy for enemies to Save on, its Damage does eventually scale with your Cleric level, making it comparable to a Guiding Bolt by Level 8.

A good Fireball every once in a while doesn’t hurt, either. 🤭

Gear

The goal of this gear selection is to broadcast Radiant Damage (and therefore Radiating Orbs) to as wide a range of enemies as possible. To do this, I favor Radiance of the Dawn, which is the Channel Divinity action specific to Light Domain Clerics. Notably, like Spirit Guardians, Radiance of the Dawn only harms hostile creatures and will not damage (or inflict Radiating Orbs upon) your allies.

Spirit Guardians is also a very reliable source of mass Radiant Damage. Spirit Guardians requires Concentration to maintain, hence this guide’s emphasis on bolstering Constitution Saving Throws.

ℹ️ "But why the emphasis on Radiating Orbs?" you may be wondering. Radiating Orb inflicts a -1 to Attack Rolls on the affected entity (not bad!!), and causes them to emit Light. The Light is great when you're in a dark environment but someone on your team (eg. Human, Githyanki, etc.) doesn't have Darkvision.

Headwear: Holy Lance Helm

Smite the Graceless: Creatures that miss Attack Rolls against the wearer must make a DC14 Dexterity Saving Throw or take 1d4 Radiant Damage.

+1 to Constitution Saving Throws.

Armor: Luminous Armor

Radiating Shockwave: Whenever the wearer deals Radiant Damage, they cause a Radiant Shockwave (inflict Radiating Orb in a 3m/10ft radius).

Cloak: Vivacious Cloak

Arcane Vivaciousness: Gain 8 temporary HP for four turns after casting a spell while in melee.

In order to cast Spirit Guardians to full effect, Shadowheart will be in melee. Alternatively, the Cloak of the Weave is powerful on any caster.

Handwear: Luminous Gloves

Radiating Orb Gloves: When the wearer deals Radiant Damage, the target receives one turn of Radiating Orb.

+1 to Strength Saving Throws

Footwear: Boots of Striding

Focused Stride: When you cast a spell that requires Concentration, you gain Momentum for one turn. While Concentrating, you cannot be pushed or knocked Prone.

Shadowheart will often be Concentrating if your combat priority is casting Spirit Guardians.

Amulet: Amulet of the Devout

High Spellcasting: +2 to Spell Save DC.

Godswill: One additional use of Channel Divinity per Long Rest.

An additional use of Channel Divinity gives Shadowheart an extra charge of Radiance of the Dawn.

Ring A: Coruscation Ring

Arcane Radiance: When the wearer deals spell damage while illuminated by a light source, they inflict Radiating Orb on the target for two turns.

If Shadowheart is carrying the Blood of Lathander, she will always be illuminated.

Ring B: Callous Glow Ring

Callous Glow: Deal an additional 2 points of Radiant Damage against illuminated creatures

If Shadowheart is carrying the Blood of Lathander, all creatures near her will be illuminated.

Melee Main Hand: The Blood of Lathander

Lathander’s Blessing: Once per Long Rest, when your HP is reduced to 0, you regain 2d6 HP. Allies within 9m / 30ft also regain 1d6 HP.

Lathander’s Light: Sheds holy light within a 6m / 20ft radius. Fiends and undead in this light are blinded if they fail a DC14 Constitution Saving Throw.

Sunbeam (Level 6): Cast for one turn once per Long Rest.

Because the Blood of Lathander as a mace does relatively low damage, Shadowheart should be carrying it as a passive buffer/debuffer rather than as a melee weapon. Sunbeam is nothing to sniff at, either.

Alternatively, you could try The Sacred Star or the Moonlight Glaive.

Melee Off Hand: Shield of Devotion

Additional Spell Slot: Gain an additional Level 1 spell slot.

Shield Bash: Use a Reaction to possibly knock an enemy Prone.

Shield of Devotion: Aid: Cast a Level 3 Aid once per Long Rest.

+2 to AC.

This is a great shield on any Cleric! An additional Level 1 spell slot essentially gives you an extra low-level (but potentially clutch) Healing Word or Guiding Bolt.

Alternatively, you may want to use Ketheric’s Shield (great for casters in general) or Viconia’s Walking Fortress (great in general).

Ranged Main Hand: Bow of the Banshee

Blood-Curdling Emission: On a hit, possibly inflict Frightened. Gain a +1d4 bonus to Attack and Damage Rolls against Frightened creatures.

While Shadowheart may rarely, if ever, use a bow instead of a spell attack, the Bow of the Banshee is a really excellent clutch weapon. Since it’s just a shortbow, it may not be extremely useful on your more dedicated archers (who may prefer heavy crossbows, longbows, or hand crossbows); as such, it’s good to have on a character who’ll only be using their Ranged Weapon situationally.

A nice Sharran bow for Shadowheart is also the Least Expected, which is especially great on a stealth-based team.

Ranged Off Hand: N/A

Number Crunching

The following table should give you an idea of how Shadowheart performs on the battlefield as a result of her gear synergy. This table assumes that Shadowheart is Level 12.

She’ll also have up to 7 charges of Radiance of the Dawn per Long Rest. (2 at the start of the day, 2 after each Short Rest (for 4 more), plus 1 from the Amulet of the Devout.)

While it’s difficult to say how much DPR Shadowheart can consistently dole out, this is a very effective build for debuffing your enemies and reliably picking off any stragglers.

Conclusion

A Light Domain Cleric is a great option for an offensive Cleric, but at the end of the day, she’s still a Cleric and will perform best as a complement to your team, rather than as its star player. By debuffing enemies, Shadowheart sets your high DPR characters (like Fighter Lae’zel 😎) up for success on the battlefield.

This build also works pretty well for any Cleric, but works especially well on a Light Cleric! You may have noticed that I mentioned Radiance of the Dawn one billion times throughout this guide… but it really is very good, haha.

If you feel that this build has too many Radiating Orbs (😂), good gear items that are still synergetic with a Light Cleric include:

Boots of Stormy Clamor, Gloves of Belligerent Skies, and/or Spineshudder Amulet with the Thunderskin Cloak

Boots of Speed, Haste Helm, and/or Crusher’s Ring for battlefield mobility (if you favor Spirit Guardians)

Additionally, you can find an alternative r/BG3Builds guide to Radiating Orb stacking here.

Thanks for reading, and hope this gave you some ideas for your Cleric or Radiant Damage builds! :)

#chelle.txt #ch.build #shadowheart #hooray!!!!! i love making these i hope they're helpful hahaha #i might fiddle w the banner image next week haha but i currently lack access to the psd file i use for these posts :')#and i just rly wanted to post this LOL

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bettsfic · 3 months

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bg3 build: beast priest (shadowheart respec)

i'm playing around with some new builds! after scrounging the internet for good build guides, i didn't find any that i thought were interesting. in my current playthrough, i'm trying to respec all the companions to be the classes they would have chosen without their various traumas.

the beast priest is my respec for shadowheart. if you haven't noticed, shadowheart's basic build isn't great. when you find her, she's already level 1, which means the game chooses her subclass for you: trickery domain. and that doesn't make sense at all, narratively or for the stats she's been assigned. so to make her a good trickery domain cleric, you would want to respec her anyway just to fix level 1.

but i don't want her to be a trickery domain cleric. i don't even want her to be a healer. i want her to be an emo bird girl. the Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way of bg3, emphasis on raven. by endgame, we learn that shadowheart loves animals and nature, and she's a bit of a rebel (my graffiti queen). without having been kidnapped by the mother superior, i can see her either noping off into the woods or staying in the city to be the type of person who accidentally acquires really a lot of cats. so my goal is for her to have lots of animals, do a fuckton of damage, and fight off the darkness with lots and lots of light.

you can find the full build on eip. more detail and a level by level breakdown under the cut.

the beast priest build involves taking 6-7 levels of beast master ranger and 5-6 levels of war priest cleric. you start off as a ranger, because rangers have great early game damage and are also imo the easiest class for beginners. you stand in one spot and you shoot stuff. you can also get Harold (crossbow) pretty early on and it can be your main weapon through most of the game. it does insane damage and casts Bane.

i'm not familiar enough with armor and weapons to include recommendations in this guide (beyond Harold. get Harold). that is too much for me to keep track of, and i swap things out a lot. use whatever you find most helpful and/or looks the coolest. you probably can't use this build for lone wolf tactician or anything, but i do think it's very fun for an explorer or balanced playthrough, and it fixes a lot of the problems in shadowheart's base build.

this build does a few things:

uses war priest weapon buffs to increase ranged damage

minimizes concentration spells to prioritize ensnared strike and hunter's mark

backup heals (unfortunately this means either respeccing another companion to take on main healing duties or building a main heals tav. i'm working on a bardadin build for this very purpose. there is also always halsin, but he takes a while to acquire)

it's very beneficial to astarion that the bird can blind enemies near him so he can gain advantage to sneak attack (i'll share my build for him too eventually; he is also part ranger)

toolkit against undead (guardian spirits is a must)

important team utilities like guidance

what this build can't do:

be the "face" of your team, by which i mean initiate dialogue. we have no charisma or proficiency in anything related to talking to people. we are a gloomy emo girl sequestered to the back of the group and we shoot stuff and hang out with our bird

steal shit, disarm traps, lockpick. i mean, you can, but you'll probably have another character better equipped for it. we'll be wearing medium armor or heavy armor (optional), so we'll have a disadvantage on stealth anyway

here's how i've broken down each level:

initial build

if you're respeccing shadowheart, you won't be able to change her race or background, which means she'll remain an acolyte and have proficiency in insight and religion.

if you're making your tav a beast priest, you should choose whatever background and race makes sense for your character's narrative. the caveat being, as stated above, stealth and sleight of hand are kind of useless here, as well as dialogue proficiencies like persuasion, intimidation, deception, performance, etc.

what *is* helpful is having proficiency in the things you walk up to and go "oh shit, what's that?" so survival and perception are pretty important. folk hero and outlander are therefore both good background choices, but again, what's important to me in a build is that the story makes sense.

note you will not need investigation because we'll be taking bounty hunter as a favored enemy.

level 1: ranger (1)

proficiencies: survival, nature, animal handling (see above for more explanation; really just take whatever you think will be useful)

favored enemy: bounty hunter

bounty hunter gives disadvantage to enemies hit by ensnaring strike. very helpful for astarion and your companion. however, it's sometimes difficult to choose when to use hunter's mark versus ensnaring strike.

natural explorer: beast tamer

all of these are kind of useless, tbh. but i chose this one because early game, your companion dies very easily and this way you'll be able to bring it back without using a spell slot.

from my understanding, in EA you could either have your summon pet OR your companion out, not both, but in full release you can now have both summons out at once.

level 2: ranger (2)

fighting style: archery

we are going to be very far away from our enemies and Harold is going to be very dear to us.

spells: hunter's mark, ensnaring strike (ranged)

both spells require concentration so you can only pick one. ensnaring strike gives disadvantage to an enemy but hunter's mark does more damage, and your companion does more advantage to it as well. for cc situations, i'd choose ensnaring strike; for taking down one big dude at a time, hunter's mark. hunter's mark can be recast as long as you maintain concentration.

level 3: cleric (1)

deity: any (if you're respeccing shadowheart, your deity will remain shar)

domain: war domain

cantrips: guidance, sacred flame, light

the only one that's important here is guidance. the other two can be whatever your party needs most. the reason we're taking one level of cleric early and the others later is because guidance is a must. if someone else on your team has it, or if you have a bard, you can stay as a ranger until 5.

level 4: ranger (3)

subclass: beast master

spell: cure wounds OR speak with animals

for shadowheart's respec, i would say cure wounds so that she can start subhealing. however, if you don't have anyone in your party who can speak to animals yet, that's pretty important. the strange ox you meet in the grove provides a lot of endgame help, and it's fun talking to the owlbear and scratch.

level 5: ranger (4)

feat: resilient (wisdom)

taking resilience in wisdom gives us a proficiency in wisdom saving throws, which we'll need for both cleric and ranger spells.

level 6: ranger (5)

spells: anything that would be most helpful to your team.

you probably already have somebody who can cast longstrider as a ritual spell. enhance leap is helpful although this is pretty late in the game to be getting that. i try to avoid concentration spells because of hunter's mark and aoe spells because astarion and karlach are always in the thick of it and i don't want to hurt them.

what's important this level is that your companion's AC and damage increases, and it gets an extra attack.

level 7: cleric (2)

you get turn undead and guided strike this level. both are very useful, particularly guided strike. nothing to choose though.

level 8: cleric (3)

new spells! these can be prepared based on what you think you'll need for a given scenario. lesser restoration is a must if you're letting astarion bite you every night. but if that's the case you probably already have it.

level 9: cleric (4)

cantrip: whatever's most helpful at this point

feat: ability improvement (1 in wisdom, 1 in dexterity)

if you have auntie ethel's hair, then you might want 2 in one or the other.

level 10: cleric (5)

here's where you get guardian spirits, which is the single most important mid-game spell you can have (although in this build you get it pretty late). make sure when you cast it, you have as many movement speed spells and potions you can get. you're going to cast it and run around like mad killing everything.

level 11 & 12: ranger OR cleric (6 & 7)

here's where you have a difficult choice to make. your last two levels can be ranger 6 and 7, which will give your companion a huge buff. or you can choose cleric 6 and 7, which will give you war god's blessing, which gives you a +10 attack roll to give to someone else on your team.

you an also do cleric 6 and ranger 6, which will grant you war god's blessing AND allow you to take ranger knight as a favored enemy, which gives you the ability to wear heavy armor (if you want that). you can also gain resistance to cold, fire, or poison, but since you encounter all of those things in pretty equal measure, i never know which to choose.

i think it'll depend on what sounds more fun to you. personally, i think seeing my animal companion destroy everything is very fun. but if you enjoy reactions and buffing your teammates, i can also see wanting to stick with cleric through the end.

unlock to level 20

you might be thinking it's not worth it to only take two half classes instead of one whole one and lose out on late game spells and abilities. and i agree with you completely. my favorite part of beast master is when your companion gets two special abilities at 11. if you're playing completely vanilla, this is the major sacrifice of multiclassing. you're prioritizing creativity and cool combos over fancy spells and abilities.

but if you install a mod that lets you level to 20 (no class can go beyond 12, but you can multiclass to 20), you can take 11 levels of ranger and 9 levels of cleric. level 11 of ranger maxes out your animal; level 8 of cleric gives you divine strike, and level 9 gives you flame strike.

i didn't find anything from 10-12 in cleric very helpful. there's divine intervention which you can only use once in the game, ever, and i used it at a very integral time and it didn't do enough. heroes' feast is helpful but halsin has that too. heal, which should be the best healing spell in the game, is currently bugged and i don't know when they'll fix it.

you could also do level 12 of ranger for the extra feat if you don't have both wisdom and dexterity to 20, and stay at 8 for cleric.

if you do unlock to level 20, i would download the double xp mod (although i haven't gotten mine to work yet) so you can get to 20 at about the same pace you get to 12 in vanilla. this obvs is extremely unbalanced and makes you very very OP but that makes the game more fun for me. and anyway, if it gets too easy you can always play tactician or honor mode.

i hope you found this helpful! i'll probably be tweaking and updating it as i go. i'm working on respecs for astarion, karlach, halsin, jaheira, and wyll right now. gale, lae'zel, and minsc i'll be able to look at once i play around with them more. i haven't used them much yet in my teams.

if you have any questions or suggestions, feel free to send me an ask!

#bg3 #bg3 build #shadowheart #shadowheart respec #cleric #ranger #multiclass #multiclass build

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tieflingtareon · 7 months

Text

My love, are you the devil? (Oh, call me a devil)

Chapter 1 | Words: 3,787

Summary: Astarion found himself often surprised by his heroic companion. He had one goal. To become the favoured companion of the group, to earn the Tieflings loyalty, to make Tar'eons strength his own. Yet Tar'eon isn't like the usual target of his manipulations. Despite his naivety, he does not seem gullible. There is something very wrong with their 'leader' to begin with. Astarion isn't sure if he wants to control it or eradicate the threat it posed. But can he really do either when Tar'eon himself seems so...unwaveringly kind?

That devil is getting into his head, while others get into Tar'eons. He doesn't appreciate not having the upperhand after years of being at the disadvantage. He will find a way to make him see.

He is the one he should be listening to. Astarion would make it so, no matter the means.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50668558/chapters/127995079

Astarion wasn’t sure what to make of his oldest companion. Well — by a hike. Meeting Shadowheart shortly after would make her the second oldest companion of the party to him. He wasn't quite sure he wanted to give in yet and call Tar’eon his leader, unlike the rest of them who seemed to give him the position without a second thought, always looking to him for direction.

Though, a leader he was. A strange leader at that. He did not lead with iron and grit, nor a strict, cruel tongue. He was unlike any leader he’d met in all the time he’d lived. Well, if you counted living in the shadows as a life to begin with. It was very much a death. An undeath, if you would.

Sometimes Astarion had to remind himself that there was a difference between a master and a leader. He expected much of what Tar’eon did to be that of an iron fist, like a master talking to his slaves, especially with his intimidating build, but he was…gentle. Disgustingly so, in Astarion's opinion.

Hulking and massive, with his curved, pointed horns, his eerie eyes — they lacked the whites the rest of the party have. Instead, they were as black as night, leaving two glowing colours in the darkness when Astarion caught him awake. Lava and ice, pining him down. It made it exceptionally hard to feed without being caught, the way the man almost always seemed to wake when Astarion left his meditative rest before the others to prowl.

Astarion could never bring himself to mention that he was aware of his gaze in the night. Perhaps because he was afraid Tar’eon already knew. Knew he was a creature of the night, like he was a creature of the Hells. He wouldn’t want to prove their ‘leader’ right. He didn't want to give him an excuse to tell the others.

But he was starving. Aching. He’d lasted a year without blood before, withering away but he *survived*. Though, he hadn't been actively fighting back then. Not like this. Expending so much energy…he’d never noticed how cold he truly was until recently. He was growing desperate. But Tar’eon was keeping him leashed with his gaze most nights.

It should have been expected. Tar’eon was sickeningly sweet, a goodie-two-shoes to the boot. The kind of man who killed harpies to save a child and carried the misspelt garbage that the child called a ‘story’ in his armour at all times. Astarion caught him reading it every night by the fire before bed with a smile on his face. It was unsettling to see such a large figure, scarred across his face, smiling so serenely.

He spoke to the tieflings like they were family even when admitting he didn’t know any of them personally. But they were his people, desperate for help, and he swore to protect them. The young like Arabella, the old like Zevlor — he even offered to spare Kagha’s life. If only she’d taken the offer. It brought Astarion satisfaction to strike her down.

Spilling any amount of blood was euphoric for him. He didn’t care if it was vile goblin blood or dark druid blood. It was all the same split. It only matter when he wanted to taste it.

He often wondered how each member of his party would taste. Even the newest member, Karlach — he wanted to sink his fangs into her, even if it burned. He was starved. And running out of options. Animals could only sate him so much, and only managing to hunt when the barbarian whined her way onto the team was becoming grating.

He wondered if Tar’eons blood would burn too. If it would be the sweet kind. He was so kind — naive — and Astarion was sure that no matter the pain of gulping down his blood, it would be equally as sweet. A blissful sort of pain. The better to regular pain in his experience.

The ache in his stomach only grew as they finally made their way to the goblin camp. Battle after battle, saving that stupid gnome, walking in on that devious couple, fighting mud bats just to get proof that Kagha was a monster just as Tar’eon had said...

Tedious.

Children and animals really did seem to be his weak spot. He even refused to hurt goblin children; stated it clearly to the party. It almost made him want to bury his dagger into one of them to see if Tar’eon could be pushed over the edge. Tar’eon had never laid a finger on any of them. Even when Astarion attempted to disembowel him the first day they met. He had been quick despite his build, avoiding his blade, and yet he had not touched him. He’d been calm. Collected. Kind, like he thought Astarion a frightened child rather than a threat.

Yet he chewed off the hand of that man stuck in the sigil that first day they met. He had seemed horrified by himself, wiping blood from his face. The sight had been both horrific yet intriguing. A surprise that was…almost delightful as it was terrifying. It proved that Tar’eon had a darkness inside him; yet he seemed so intent on keeping it hidden, so intent on being a hero. What a waste of that massive body of hot stone…

He really didn’t like him. Even if he had let him keep that fascinating necromancy book they found. He was sure he was going to pass it off to Shadowheart, the princess he seemed so fond of — she was always with him. She never stayed at camp. Always useful to have the cleric around, he supposed.

After a run in with an Owlbear, a mother and a cub, that ended in bloodshed, Tar’eon called it a night, looking weary and sad over the needless death. But an animal was an animal. Even if Tar’eon spoke their tongue, one wrong move could cause mayhem.

And that wrong move had been a step closer to look at the very cub that had devoured its mothers innards post death. Astarion could respect survival above all else, even if it disgusted Karlach to see it.

Astarion watched Tar’eon from his tent, seeing the man pull out the child’s story once more to read. But even the child’s scrawl was not enough to lift his spirits it seemed. His eyes were still sad despite the small uptick of his lip.

Astarion sighed as he finally stepped towards the bedroll by the fire. He was cold anyway. Not being able to feed. Perhaps tonight…yes. Tonight. Whether it was animal or person, he was feeding tonight. He couldn’t go another day before he becomes a burden on the party.

Tar’eon may be kind and soft, but he had a deceptive tongue when it came to getting his way. All for the right cause, but none the less…he was strong, and persuasive. He would be a good asset to have on the journey to a cure - not that he was all that interested in a cure. He quite liked the sunlight. But he did not like the idea of having a tentacle face and no autonomy again. So, in order to continue to be in Tar'eons good graces, Astarion needed to remain…useful.

He wasn’t sure Tar’eon would go for the seduction route. He seemed overtly naive — daft, even, when it came to the subject. Not that it was brought up often, their camp was full of weirdos and not even the fun kind.

Astarion would simply have to see. Eventually, his true nature would be revealed, and it was only after, would he know if he could truly manipulate him or not. Astarion could use all the protection he could get. He might be free of Cazador now, but how long would his freedom last? Especially if he had to return to the shadows after their journey.

Astarion sat on his bedroll and quirked a brow at Tar’eon who spared him a glance and a small smile. So genuine, too. Like he was happy to see his mug. Ugh. It was sickening at times, how nice he was.

“You’ve done this every night for a week now — what on earth is so interesting about that devil child’s scrawl?” Astarion suppressed an eye roll — barely.

Tar’eon’s lips thinned ever so slightly. Disapproval. Oh, ouch. Note the sarcasm. Usually it was Astarion hammering his own onto Tar’eons actions of good faith.

Tar’eon folded the parchment back up and slipped it into its envelope, safe. He tucked it away into his breast pocket. As if to keep it close to his heart while sleeping. Sentimental bastard.

“Reading this reminds me who I am. Or rather, who I want to be. Mirkon’s story reminds me that I can…do good. Despite everything.”

“Oh come off it, we all know you’re a saint. Don’t act like you aren’t.” Astarion scoffed, and doesn’t hide the roll of his eyes this time at Tar’eons words. “Hells, anybody who asks gets your guaranteed blessing, it’s a wonder you’re a bard and not a cleric.”

Tar’eons lips thinned once more and Astarion burned with the urge to snap at him. Claw maybe, like a pissed off cat. He was sick of that damn look already. Everybody else seemed to get such gentle looks from him, reassurance and care. It annoyed him that he wasn’t receiving the same, even if he was purposely poking the bear.

“Perhaps so. But…I will remind you, Astarion, considering our short time together as a group…we don’t know each other.” Tar’eons intense orange and blue eyes pinned him to the bedroll, much like they did in the dead of night. It was less eerie with the fire light flickering across his fair skin, but no less powerful. He hated how it made him still, made him forget to breathe. Like his instincts sensed danger yet his mind frankly knew there was little. A conflict he hated, one that made his heart race and his stomach cold as it continued to gnaw at itself.

He was sick of the cold. He wanted warmth.

“Do not presume to know me, or anything of my…'sainthood'.” Tar’eon huffed softly and closed his eyes, turning away to his own bedroll. It was only after his eyes were closed that Astarion felt he could breathe again.

What on earth was wrong with him? Acting like a frightened little mouse — a scurrying rat — disgusting.

“Goodnight, Astarion.” Tar’eon said, his tail flicking wildly. It knocked the fire, causing it to tumble and burst with embers, the flame smaller now. Growing dim without more wood to keep it burning.

Astarion stared at his hulking back and his stomach growled at him. Mouth dry and teeth aching.

Just one bite. One bite would make it all better. And maybe make his fragile ego feel less like the dimming fire.

“Goodnight. Darling.”

—————————

It was dark. Pitch black, but Astarion could see. It was shades of grey but he could see — it was familiar, the shades of grey. The colours of the night. For once…Tar’eon slept. Deeply, it seemed. Astarion knew realistically that Tar’eon could wake, could stake him through the heart or chase him off, but his hubris had a firm grip on him.

He wanted to taste. He’d never drunken from a person before. Only animals — mainly rats. But he hungered for real prey, for the heat, the feeling of skin against his lips rather than fur or feathers.

He yearned to figure out the taste of their so-called leader.

He thought he was quiet enough. But his desire was practically an echo in their bond, growing louder the closer he came, and Tar’eon had always slept lightly.

“Shit,” It’s the only thing he can really say when those haunting eyes open and look up at him, and there’s no hiding his fangs or his desire from him.

Tar’eon brought an elbow to his chin on reflex and he cursed, only just flinching back enough to avoid a broken nose, but his chin throbbed regardless as they both stood quickly. Tar’eon stepped back, looking cautious yet guilty, his defensive posture seeming to deflate. His tail whipped wildly behind him, and the only colour to the night is the glow of the moon above and the dying embers of the fire.

“I probably deserved that.” Astarion muttered, rubbing his chin. “It’s not what it looks like,” He insisted, “I swear.”

Tar’eon didn't look like he believed him. He probably shouldn’t. Astarion was not one to be trusted, not with anything. He never had been, as long as he could remember. The only thing he could be reluctantly trusted with was finding prey for his master.

“I wasn’t going to hurt you. I— I just needed…blood.” Tar’eon was always looking to help things in need, latching onto desperate souls and trying to give them whatever they pleased. Perhaps if he acted pitiful enough…

Tar’eons defences seemed to fall in an instance, and it baffled Astarion how unguarded the man could be. Why? Because they were companions? God forbid he consider them friends. Astarion did not have friends.

“I’m sorry…How long since you’ve killed someone? Days? Hours?” Tar’eon asked, but his voice did not hold loathing or disgust. Simple…curiosity. Almost concern.

“Nobody! Well…if you don’t count any creatures we’ve slaughtered.” Astarion waved a frivolous hand aside, like that didn’t matter. Because to him, it didn’t.

“I feed on animals. Boars, deer, kobolds…whatever I can get.” Astarion reasoned. He knew Tar’eon cared deeply for animals, but he hoped his misdeed to them could be set aside.

“I’m just…too slow right now. Too weak.”

Take the bait, he thought. Pity me.

“If I just had a little blood…I could think clearer. Fight better. Please.” Astarion scowled as his mind opened without his consent, cursing the connection, trying to shut the tadpole up, to close his mind once more.

“Why…didn’t you tell me?” Tar’eon asked, stepping closer. Astarion scoffed, stepping back. Keeping the space between them. To be within arms reach was to offer yourself on a platter. Astarion was not looking to be prey.

“At best, I was sure you’d say no. More likely, you’d run a stake through my ribs.” He mused. He doubted it, but Tar’eon could have chosen the others over him and done so. For the sake of what’s right. Heroes - they couldn't be trust with a stick, let alone the weapons people bestowed upon them for their glorious acts of violence against monsters.

“No…I needed you to trust me. And you can trust me.” Or the very least, pity me to my benefit.

But the expression on Tar’eons face was not pity. Instead, it was something softer, more akin to sympathy. Or perhaps empathy. Like he truly understood Astarion’s predicament. It irked him.

“I do. I believe you.” Good. It would only further his goals.

“Thank you,” He tried to make it sound more genuine, but even those words had a lint of drawling insincerity. He inched closer ever so slightly.

“Do you think you could…trust me just a little further?” He tilted his head, eyes slowly dropping to his neck. Thick and wide — hard to strangle but easy to bite, he was sure.

“I only need a taste. I swear.”

Tar’eon looked conflicted. He reached up to his throat and held it, caressing the sides as if he was deciding if it was worth the pain. If being a little weaker was worth the strength of his companion.

“…fine. But not a drop more than you need.” He relinquished and Astarion couldn’t help but smile.

“Really?” He hadn’t expected a yes, not without a threat at least. Tar’eon really was too kind. What an idiot, letting a vampire sink their fangs into him. He’d even bleed himself dry for others. It was almost admirable, if Astarion cared for such traits.

“I- of course. Not one drop more.” He half-promised. Maybe just a drop more, but not a drop he’d miss. He gestured to Tar’eons bed roll.

“Let’s make ourselves comfortable, shall we?” He smirked. It was a little entertaining, watching such a large man lay back on a bedroll that barely fit him.

He would definitely be the largest thing he’d fed on, that was for sure…he had to be the size of a bear. Those horns made him appear even larger, more intimidating despite his inherent gentleness. A lamb disguised at a devil.

Tar’eon watched him with something akin to apprehension and anticipation, a conflicting mixture in those mismatched eyes. Astarion cared not for the stiffness of his body, or the way he gripped the edge of his bedroll. If anything, it was about time he was the one in control, the one to be wary of. The one who held the stakes. Even if they were arbitrary stakes. He'd prefer to avoid actual stakes, for his own safety.

He slipped down into a crouch, with all the grace of a cat, and leaned over him, his arm having to stretch a little further than he anticipated as not to touch his shoulder. It felt a touch too far, to hold the man down while he drank. He’d hold himself up. He did promise no more than he needed; or, however much Tar’eon was willing to give. Even if what he needed was less than what he was given.

He didn’t drag it out, as much as he’d like to see the large tielfing grow anxious, to see his cool and collected self fragment.

He sunk his teeth into hot skin — near burning against his own cold lips, and drank in heaving gulps. He wouldn’t lick like some kitten offered a bowl of milk. He was a lion, starved and near savage. And he ached to fill his gnawing stomach.

The taste was as sweet as he imagining. Not sickeningly so like candy, but fresh and crisp like berries, with the burn of spices he couldn’t remember trying, but his tongue could. There were feelings attached to the taste, a mix of familiar yet long forgotten flavours. Astarion couldn’t survive on food. So he picked at the camp breakfasts. While he could eat, he never found himself interested. Drinks were much more enjoyable, and easier to digest for his undead stomach. Passed right through in a much more pleasant manner.

Tar’eon tasted like sweet berry wine and the heat of burning spices on a cold winters day. And it was marvellous — it filled his mouth and stomach like nothing else ever had. Rats, eating rats of all things when this was an option. God, he would have taken another night of flaying just to experience this again.

He wished he’d sunken his teeth into targets before Cazador could. He wished he had killed him with his bare hands for depriving him of this. Maybe one day, he would. Oh, he would, or he'd die trying.

He felt Tar’eon’s large hand against his shoulder, gripping hard, but he didn’t push him away as he continued to drink greedily, drunk on the taste. Just a little more. That’s all he wanted. Just enough to imprint it to memory, because he doubted Tar’eon would ever offer his neck to him again, he’d be forced to drink goblin blood at best instead, those nasty little creatures—

“That’s enough.” Tar’eon pushed now, not particularly hard, but enough to dislodge Astarion’s fangs, the man beneath him panting. He looked a touch paler and Astarion let out a sigh, mourning the end of his meal. “No more.”

“Ah, of course,” Astarion slunk away, standing up and licking his lips. He knew he must be a sight, with blood staining his lips, a smear on his chin that he wiped away with the back of his hand. Rats were less messy meals, if anything, he supposed. But not nearly as delicious. He’d forgotten his table manners. How rude of him. He should have brought a napkin.

Tar’eon stood as well, looking a touch faint, almost drowsy. His neck beaded with blood, and Astarion knew it would dry into a messy, flaky patch of red on his skin.

“I was just…swept up in the moment.” He excused with a smile, wiping his bottom lip and sucking a trace of blood off his finger. He felt stronger already now that he thought about it. For the first time in two hundred years, he felt sated.

Tar’eon, for the first time since he met him, looked much weaker. It was nice to finally tip the scales…

“But it worked. I feel good. Strong. Happy!” And he did. When was the last time he felt such a rush of endorphins? He hadn’t been sure his body could even do such a thing. He felt so much more powerful. Oh, he could get used to this. Actually feeding himself what he needed, rather than scraps off another’s table. Or the rats beneath it, to be crude.

Tar’eon used his collar to dab away at the blood on his neck.

“Good…I look forward to seeing you fight.” Tar’eon bowed his head ever so slightly, his long ebony hair falling over his shoulders with the action, the grey-white ends reaching just below his chest.

“Shouldn’t take long. So many people need killing.” Astarion said haughtily and smiled, fangs and all. “We only get closer to that rancid camp after all.”

Astarion returned his small bow, more mocking than out of respect.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me — you’re invigorating, but I need something more…filling.” Astarion wouldn’t mind dessert after all. If he’d drained the man dry, maybe his thirst would have been quenched completely, but alas, he needed his delicious blood to live. What a pity.

He turned to walk away and paused. He still needed on his good side, when morning came. Especially if the others had something to say about his…undead nature.

“This is a gift, you know.” He could still taste him on his tongue. Sweet and intoxicating. Like nostalgia to a good life he never had, or couldn’t remember. “I won’t forget it.”

Oh, he truly wouldn’t…

As he stalked off into the night, Tar’eon watched him go, holding a hand over the puncture wounds. Where Astarion had had his mouth, his teeth.

“Him always hunting at night could cause us trouble…” He murmured to himself. “Perhaps it’s best I find him a proper food source.”

He laid down once more, exhausted.

He’d figure it all out in the morning…at least he’d be able to sleep tonight. Hopefully without nightmares keeping him awake.

#baldurs gate tav #dark urge #astarion x dark urge #astarion x mc #astarion #bg3 oc #bg3 astarion #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfiction #astarion x tav

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zipmode · 2 months

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haven’t been able to stop looking at your little reblog !! the explosion !

2 questions:

1. if conviction was a companion what would his like high/neutral/negative approval dialogue, and his companion quest? (and romance if you want!)

2. in d&d, tieflings can have more than just horns and tails trait wise (like wings, hooves, forked tongue, six fingers), does vic have any more tiefling traits besides the horns and tail?

HEHEHE YAYYY QUESTIONS ^_^ this was really fun to think about since I'm used to considering them as a central point in a narrative instead of a secondary point... It's really interesting to contemplate what would be different about the whole situation if they weren't the one calling the shots...

This got really REALLY long so I'm putting it under a read more so as not to completely fill up people's dashes 👍

I was gonna write this in paragraph format but it was getting hard to keep track of so I'm turning it into a bullet list instead. LOL.

Conviction Approves Of:

defending and protecting kids. They resent how little grace they were given in their childhood, and try to give the patience and understanding they wish they had to any kids they run across. Gods forbid more children grow up to be like Conviction. The world does NOT need more Vics.

choosing to think practically instead of morally. They wouldn't enjoy it, but if they have to kill one innocent to save a hundred, they will.

refusing to side with/make deals with devils. ever. They think giving up your autonomy-to a devil of all entities- is one of the stupidest things a person could do (inversely, they feel the same way about devoting your life to a god, but they're less passionate and more passive-aggressive about that.)

being patient whenever their affliction messes with them. If seen as an in-game mechanic, they would get a condition (I think I called it 'Arcane Dissonance' when I first starting thinking abt em) That would occur every so often for a few turns. It would significantly increase their chances of getting a wild magic surge and give them disadvantage on attacks.

Conviction Disapproves Of:

most notions of lofty ideals. paladin type stuff. They've got crazy beef with paladins. finds such views of morality and 'goodness' to be lacking nuance and more often performative than not. (When they meet Wyll and find him to be entirely sincere in his heroics, they get a lot of complicated feelings. Mostly they avoid him for fear his overwhelmingly kind and trusting gaze may compel them to reveal their darkest secrets, which would be awkward for everybody involved.)

Killing for the sake of killing, letting your emotions get the better of you in that sense. If you kill someone before you've gotten as much use out of them as you can, no matter how much they suck, Vic will disapprove.

Badgering them about their past beyond what they're willing to reveal. They're like Shadowheart in that regard.

When they DO reveal their past, they would disapprove of trying to justify their actions. Unlike most of the other companions, the choices they made that ended up hurting a lot of people were done completely done of their own volition. They don't want people trying to tell them they didn't completely fuck up. They fucked up.

Companion Quest Stuff

I have no clue what their little questline would be called. The Shattered Sorcerer? An Honest Alchemist? The Secretive Shopkeep? Something like that. The steps to their questline would probably go something like this:

You meet Vic, maybe in the blighted village or the goblin camp, playing along with the whole 'true soul' thing and making potions and poisons for the goblins. You have to convince or kill the goblins in order to get them out of there and into your party. They introduce themself as an alchemist and shopkeep from baldur's gate, specializing in bespoke medicines for unusual ailments.

As you travel with them, it becomes increasingly clear that Vic knows how to make a lot more than just medicines. They could maybe act as a more direct way to learn about alchemy and recipes as opposed to the books scattered around the world.

Any time they talk about poisons, it really sounds like they're talking from personal experience. If you bring it up to them they'd probably defend themselves by saying that knowing what ails people is an important part of knowing how to cure them. something like that.

When you pick up the poisoner's robe, they probably make an off-hand comment on how they always preferred snakes over spiders as a symbol of poison. Maybe with an awkward chuckle at the end. Real subtle, pal.

If you got their approval up enough by late act one, they'd likely allude to having a less-than-legal side business of selling poisons. At this point, their Customer Service Mask would be slipping more and more frequently. The shopkeep that presented themselves and polite, enthusiastic and overly congenial-if not a bit awkward, would present themselves more and more as a bitter, cynical, and sometimes even menacing figure. The 'bitter' and 'menacing' is rarely ever directed at the player character, if at all. It's just that Vic mainly knows how to play two roles, and now that their secret's mostly out, they can use their skills in intimidation and deceit more openly now that it'll raise less eyebrows.

When act two rolls around and you get to moonrise towers, Vic finds some uncomfortably familiar poisons being made; more insidious concoctions of their own design that nobody else should have access to. They panic and reveal to the player that their 'little side business' was actually a pretty major operation that was instrumental in many a political assassination. Chances are if a noble died due to mysterious illness, it was an illness brewed up by Vic themself. They only ever wrote their recipes in one place, a journal they kept hidden. Vic, ever the casual supervillain, also used said journal to hypothesize how to best poison nobles, politicians, and if the need arised, entire cities. ............ they were THOUGHT EXPERIMENTS, OKAY? It's not like Vic was ever ACTUALLY going to do anything as terrible as that. Anyways, the point is that those recipes and schematics are in the hands of the Absolute, and they NEED to get them back.

Act three would involve Vic coming to terms with their past actions and tracking down their journal. At some point they probably want to stop by their shop to grab supplies, only to find it closed down by the flaming fist by order of Lord Gortash. Of course, if they found their book, they found it in their house, which means the absolute knew who the real identity of that ever infamous and ever secretive poisoner. uh oh!!!

Endings-wise, you could probably be an asshole and turn them in to the flaming fist, encourage them to burn their journal and start a new life where they get to focus more on healing instead of hurting, or convince them to fully commit to their life as a poisoner. The last two can also be thought of as whether or not they want to be able to live without having to put on a persona or not.

In their poisoner ending, Conviction probably ends up fully embracing their cynical and threatening side. Meeting up with them in the epilogue would involve them acting very businesslike and impersonal. Judging them for their actions at this point would probably have them rebuking that it's better that THEY have control over their market over someone else. They still have standards, after all. If they get the poisoner ending AND Astarion Ascended, it's implied that conviction uses their criminal connections to make his efforts to expand his control of Baldur's Gate as difficult as possible, absolutely resenting him for the choice he made. Even if it's a bit hypocritical. In a timeline where Shadowheart becomes Mother Superior, they probably still remain on decent terms and likely even have a working business relationship. Wyll probably resents Conviction a lot, and that weighs on Vic way more than they'd let on. (Costumes wise, because I love to think about that shit, their epilogue clothing would be expensive but practical, and in muted colors. likely not very comfortable looking.)

In their healer ending, they give up on the Shopkeep AND the Poisoner Personas and end up behaving a far more awkward but sincere way. They still end up rather flat-toned and cynical, but have a good sense of humor about things and are clearly more at peace with themselves than they've ever been, even if they're still trying to figure out WHO exactly they are. Post-game, Conviction completes their medical training (I think i covered why it was never finished pre-tadpole in another ask, but the long and short of it is their mentor who was supporting them through school died before they could finish) and specialize in investigating and treating arcane afflictions. This ending would involve them traveling around Faerûn, acting as a sort of Fantasy House MD. Despite their travelling, they'd probably have a decently sized house in Baldur's Gate that acts as their base of operations whenever they're not traveling. At some point they do a guest lecture over at Blackstaff and absolutely perpetuate the notion that Gale could still blow everybody up at any time. (Outfit wise, they're in comfortable but bright travel clothes, including lots of layers and accessories. Every single piece of jewelry they wear has some kind of enchantment on it.)

No matter the ending, their affliction has no cure. It always was and always will be something they merely have to live with. It really just comes down to the coping mechanisms they use to deal with the pain and chaos of it all.

Romance Stuff

LMAO. This guy is utterly clueless. I think you'd probably realize if they were into you before THEY realized they were into you, and you'd probably have to pass some kind of check in order to convince them you genuinely liked them back. This is a guy who has pretty much spent their entire life toiling away. Pre-tadpole, they didn't have any time for friends or romance, and the one or two times they went along with the idea of a one-night stand didn't exactly end well. (lots of anxieties involving the whole 'I might blow up or summon an imp or randomly teleport etc etc etc if I release my inhibitions too much'.) They've also probably never really LET themselves like anyone in a romantic sense before, because their life was complicated enough without putting another person into the mix. Their affections probably first present themselves as a lot of confused, intense staring at the player character. If you ask them about it they're like huh? wuh? Successfully romancing Conviction would probably involve a lot of just getting this motherfucker to relax for the first time in their life. They wouldn't ever initiate any PDA but definitely don't mind it. Voted Companion Most Likely to Get Flustered If You Held Their Hand.

AS FOR THE SECOND PART OF THIS ASK- I thought it'd be more fun to make a little thing about it :]

Their weird extra stuff is extremely indulgent but I just can't help myself I love to make a guy thats strange and unusual!!!!

Anyways if you read this whole thing thanks for indulging me in my insane ramblings ^_^ YAYYY LALALALA.... frolicks....

#zipmode answers #my ocs #conviction #once again sorry if any of this doesn't make sense it's hard to keep track of stuff when i'm writing in on a TUMBLR draft #AND writing it over the course of a few days #you know how it is with spaghetti #the thing about souls is tentative and less powerful than it might sound...#they can feel souls in the way one might feel body heat coming off another person if you're standing close enough to them #EDIT idk WHEN the read more moved WHOOPSSS

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je-suis-problematique · 4 months

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Inspired by @houseofhopeofficial's post, I've decided to ramble a bit about our very first Tav, the one I said we abandoned after creating them. Abandoned is a strong word though, we were just too depressed to keep playing so our Tav is stuck right before Moonrise. Whoops.

Anyway! I don't remember much about Val (our Tav's name) and we don't know much about DND or its universe so our headcanons for Val can be kind of.... weird, I guess. But here goes!

Val is a half-elf, half-drow.

They're AFAB and nonbinary. Their genitals remained untouched but they got their breasts removed.

They're hag-eyed because they'll try everything once and their sense of self-preservation isn't exactly the best. Since they're a ranger who mostly relies on archery, being blind in one eye really fucks up their ability to aim correctly as well as their depth perception and general survival capabilities. But if you'll ask them if they regret letting the hag take their vision? They'll just shrug and say no because it was worth the try.

Their romantic partners are Astarion and Wyll.

Karlach has a crush on them but they just don't feel the same for her.

They grew up as a street urchin so their perception of the world is very give-and-take – Everything and everyone has a price.

They will help others seemingly out of pure goodwill but in reality they are either bored and just want to see what happens or they seek to gain something from helping whoever it is they're helping.

They feel the most comfortable in forests and the Underdark.

They're an insomniac and only really manage to sleep when they collapse from exhaustion.

They use substances to calm their nerves (we imagined them smoking an herb mix). They try to hide this from the others because they are extremely vulnerable when under the influence so they do this in some desolate corner of the camp, out of sight. Only Astarion and Wyll got to see them high.

They have a high pain tolerance.

Sexual Trauma™.

We didn't decide where their facial scar came from, but we lean towards them getting it during a fight they were disadvantaged in. Maybe fighting someone bigger and stronger than them at a younger age.

They are generally pessimistic/nihilistic in the sense that, to them, the world is an evil place full of rot and that it is what it is. The end justifies the means.

They use their tadpole to their advantage and seep its powers. They convinced Astarion to do the same. This likely stems from their "survival of the fittest" hunter-esque worldview.

They hated Shadowheart at first but she slowly grew on them.

They're mostly a bottom but they do like to top sometimes because they like being in a position of power.

They can speak to animals.

Their preferred familiar to summon is the wolf. You can sometimes find them sleeping/resting cuddled up with the wolf too, because it makes them feel safe, like a therapy dog.

They're very nervous around Astarion at first because they don't want to do or say the wrong thing. With Wyll they are much more open and relaxed, flirty/goofy even.

They can play the violin.

Gale makes them extremely uncomfortable.

They like to dress feminine sometimes, when the situation permits it. They also like wearing lingerie, and seeing it on others.

They are sometimes overly blunt, which can cause.... unease in others.

They're on their own side – They'll normally avoid picking sides when witnessing an argument/fight unless personal bias is involved, as in, if they like or dislike one of the people involved in the argument/fight. They're very morally gray and have the wish to be liked/on good terms with everyone so it's difficult for them to take a solid stance or side with someone during sensitive situations.

They're an extremely good tracker.

They're much like an abused dog – Trust issues mixed with the vehement wish to be loved and cared for. That's partly why they easily fall for Astarion's flirtatiousness, and why they're wary of Karlach because her affections are too intense and invasive for them. They need to be coaxed into coming closer.

They'll run straight into danger without thinking first if someone they love is in trouble. They are loyal until the end if a real bond has been established.

That's all I could think of right now, but there might be a part 2 sometime later if we ever fucking go back to playing that particular save.

– Alex

#alex talks #bg3 tav #baldur's gate 3

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browneowl · 11 months

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It's been a while since I did a fan-recording of something, and since I'm beyond stoked for this game, I couldn't help but do one for BG3 when the idea came to me.

The idea is basically journal entries that Tav makes as they go along. I would honestly love to do more of these. Please let me know what you think.

Here's a transcript for what I wrote/say:

'Where in gods names do I even start?

Gods knows how many days ago I was abducted by mind flayers and held on that nautiloid ship, a powerful yet ghastly creation where every material is flesh-like but harbours an unnerving chill. There I was infected with an illithid tadpole. I can still feel the horrid sensation as it slunk its way through my eye socket.

To all of our luck, it was attacked by githyanki warriors and their famed red dragons. In the chase the ship ended up teleporting to Avernus. With the aid of a githyanki named Lae’zel, a woman who goes by Shadowheart, and the peculiar addition of an intellect devourer called Us, we reached the helm; witnessing the chaos of the hells as we went as well as….the monstrous process of ceremorphosis…by my own fault. I believed I could save that woman from the pod as I did Shadowheart, but in my idiocy and hasteness, I killed her. I’m so sorry. But for a slow and complex process to occur within seconds at the push of a button….it’s nothing like anything I’ve heard or read of ceremorphosis.

Once we reached the helm, we fought our way to the transponder, the demons and mind flayers well distracted battling each other. I managed to enact teleportation just in time as one of the dragons unleashed its flames upon the helm. The ship however did not survive the encounter, and crashed once it arrived back in Faerun, if that is where we are,…but not before I fell out a window. I vaguely remember being saved as some unusual magic, certainly not of my doing, caught me mere feet above the ground. Everything went dark as I plopped onto the sand.

Since waking up the next day, I haven’t yet found Lae’zel, if she survived the crash, and I don’t think Us made it out alive. Though I have reunited with Shadowheart, who carries a small object, an artefact of sorts I think, she had it on her person in her pod. She’s…mysterious to say the least, well, the same could be said about any stranger, but there’s something different, something in the way she won’t, can’t speak of herself, something in her eyes, but I won’t pry. She is a fine warrior, and pleasant company.

I have made a couple of new acquaintances; first was Astarion, who made an interesting first impression by sticking a dagger to my throat…it could have ended far worse, but we both reached the same page in the end. He’s apparently a magister from Baldur’s Gate, and having briefly talked with him again, he certainly has a charm to him. I’d be lying if I didn’t say something wasn’t quite right with Astarion, I swear his eyes have a peculiar tint, and he has an odd wound on his neck, hidden beneath his collar. I want to get a closer look, but don’t want to disturb him with questions or staring, as much as the implications are worrying..yet he stands in the sun unharmed. Am I rushing to conclusions?

Then we met Gale, a wizard hailing from Waterdeep. He’s intelligent, but definitely the confident sort, arguably to his disadvantage at first glance. ha ‘mere breeze’, it took everything in me not to scoff at his words. That irritation might have lingered if we hadn’t spoken again earlier, he spoke of his feelings towards what’s transgressed, how everything seemed so trivial before, he spoke of it so softly and earnestly. I’ve developed a better opinion of him after that.

I don’t know if I would consider him a companion, but while searching ruins this afternoon, perhaps an old cloister devoted to Jergal, we came across an undead being, he isn’t a puppet of necromancy like the others were, magic likely resurrected him, yes, but he has a mind of his own, a polite one at that. He has not given us his name, so we’ve taken to calling him Withers, he doesn’t seem to mind. He tells me offers us his services; favours from beyond the grave should any of us fall, though he won’t tell me why. He must have been, or is, a powerful priest of Jergal, if so.

I can’t waste any more time writing, we have limited time to rest, well limited time entirely. It’s already been at least 24 hours since we were infected, only six days left, not even that. I feel sick, my guts already binding into a stressful knot, but other than that, I do feel fine, no clear symptoms as of yet, which is strange, but it is early yet. For all our sakes, please let there be a healer nearby.

I wouldn’t wish this ordeal on anyone, but I am grateful to not be facing it alone.'

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #shadowheart #astarion #gale of waterdeep #bg3 shadowheart #bg3 astarion #bg3 gale #voice acting #voice actress #tav #bg3 tav

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sorcerous-caress · 5 months

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Your Tav is so pretty omfg - Shadowheart anon

AAA thank you so much <3333 i really like them and had fun making them pretty. You know those videogamea that have characters dress sexly despite how unrealistic it is? My durge saw that and thought oh makes sense and just took it as a life manual, their clothes, armour and heels are a huge problem and always gets them armour penalty and disadvantage on throws but they're so vain they refuse to fight without looking pretty.

"My magic just doesn't work otherwise," they lie, blatantly, whenever questioned on their revealing clothes. Tripping over as they try to walk through a muddy swamp in stiletto heels.

They're kinda dumb ngl, but they act so overconfident and condescending that no one questions them, making it everyone else's problem. Absolutely can't read a room, assumes different things when someone is being subtle. They're not a good person, but they are entertaining. Slapped Gale's hand during their first meeting and kissed the mindflayer in the ship crash.

Betrayed Zevlor then went back to the tieflings camp just to tell him that they bertayed them like it's the weather. Saved a guy in the grove just so they can kill him themselves, kinda murder hungry as any other durge but only doing it for "the vibes"

Surprisingly strong like they can hold someone down and overpower them. Multieclassed into fighter because they always feared losing their magic one day since anything that comes easily never lasts long. They mask their fears with arrogance and pride, never showing their weakness or emotions and instead taking this whole "barbie like" persona except it's murder and fashion.

Not smart but wise when needed.

Have these pics of their failures <3

Also Karlach being pretty

#♡mytavs #♡shadowheart anon

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panigamermauser · 8 months

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Thoughts about cut stuff part 5.

Guardian, Daisy and Tadpoles with consequences.

So, I absolutely love what they did with Guardian. 10/10 no comments or changes here.

But I miss Daisy very much tho. And cut content suggests that Guardian and Daisy could coexist. Let me explain under the cut.

Aka WE COULD'VE HAD IT ALL scream.

So, for people who didn't experience Early Access, a quick recap.

Daisy introduction was very different from Guardian. You had a very nice scene in the meadow by the river (and apparently, the song 'By the River' WAS about Daisy all along!).

Daisy was coming very hard onto you. They were a very obvious trap. But oh so tempting💖 Especially when you were actively prompted to make 'your desire' instead of just 'guardian' in character creator. So ofc you were making what you thought was attractive. Which made whole scene very appealing indeed😏

And to make matters worse (in the very best sense!) your companions had their own versions of them.

Cannot remember Lae's for the life of me. But Astarion had Cazador. Wyll had Myzora and Gale had Mystra. Which hit you like a truck, right in the feels💔💔💔

Astarion was SO ANGRY you got 'a wet dream' while he got the worst nightmare of his life💔💔💔

Shadowheart was weird for me as she said 'someone I am attracted to', and I got a vibe she was talking about Tav.

I am not sure if it was because of high approval (Shadowheart was always ride or die for my Tav. I never had low approval with her once), so I do not know if she said something different when it was low.

Anyways, you got this feeling of 'wow I lucked out. I got a thirst-trap, and those three got their abusive exes instead'.

Not going to lie, I was looking forward angst and horror of Astarion's origin with Cazdor!Daisy.

Of course, even your nice dream felt like a clear trap, so there was little to no incentive to slurp tadpoles.

So I get why it was changed. Even if I am sad for the loss extra angst of Astarion, Gale and Wyll origins, it was objectively better intro of a character. And I made my peace with it at release.

But... from datamine we learn that Daisy WAS out tadpole and not the Emperor. So they are two totally different and separate characters. So there's no reason for them to not exist in the game world together!

And there was supposed to be an ending option of us falling for Daisy and turning into Illithid who is a part of hivemind too (similar to when you kill Emp at the beginning of Act3).

And now I wish we had Daisy back, as it offers an even better Emperor intro!

So, how to reconcile the two? Make Daisy appear in early Act1, like it was in Early Access, but then make Guardian intervene to save you.

Even if your character resists Daisy at every turn instead of giving in, make it harder each time. Eventually(maybe on third manifestation?) require only a nat20+get player to roll at a disadvantage at the same time. So when your roll fails, you get magic D20 appear and subdue/take over Daisy's form (add a line of 'since you find this form appealing, I'll keep using it' or smth like this, to preserve the mystery of Guardian's identity).

And then you get Guardian scenes as normal. Literally nothing would change after that. If anything, your char will be inclined to trust them even more.

Yes, it would require some obligatory Long Rests. But they are needed for companion scenes anyways, and it would allow to bring back Exhaustion mechanic (that was in the game and was cut too). I just think it would be neat in general. And it would make sure players do not miss out on game content!

And it would also explain why Astarion is so eager to slurp tadpoles - Guardian would literally save him from phantom Cazador!

(NGL I want Daisy return more for companion origins than Tav. Don't get me wrong, I adore original Daisy. It fits perfectly with 'horny on main' personality of Wysteria. But think of the ANGST for Astarion, Gale and Wyll origins and cry with me!)

I think Larian folks are perfectly able to do it. It would require just one new cutscene of Guardian vs Daisy. Daisy cutscenes were done long ago. So just use them and make one more to bridge Daisy to Guardian change.

But I do not think they will do it. They made their decision to rewrite the whole thing. And they chose not to combine those two stories, whatever their reasons were.

And as I said, Guardian storyline is superb as is. It's just datamine really makes me wish for a perfect world where we could have both 😭

What they really SHOULD add back is some tadpole-slurping consequences.

Right now the only consequence is cosmetic. And only with astral tadpole. You can unlock all low-lvl extra abilities with absolutely zero downsides to you.

So if you play a character who resists the temptation - you get absolutely nothing for your loss of extra powers.

I feel like there should be a narrative trade-off. Giving into power should lock you out of certain endings, at the very least. Maybe even make you into Emperor's thrall (similar to being Astarion Ascended's spawn).

Ideally, corruption should start early on. In Act1 Narrator says that you loose parts of yourself when you use Illithid powers.

So, why is this not a mechanic? We know that mind flayers are pretty much emotionless. So why not start with loss of empathy? You slurped couple of tadpoles? Selfless dialogue options grey out. You slurped a lot? You get only pragmatic options like 'I'll help you if you pay' or being able to help only main quest essential NPCs, and others are regarded as being in your way.

You ate the astral one? Your romance companions(if not tadpilled to the gills too) comment on how cold you are now. Potentially breaking up with you/you murdering them (Balduran/Ansur style).

And if they are also tadpilled - you cannot convince them to make good choices in their stories anymore. Mind Flayers do not give a fuck about anyone, but their own power. And if you are taking their powers - you are on your way to be one.

And that's exactly how Emperor wants you to be. He protects you only from merging into hive-mind, not from other side-effects.

I perfectly understand that my ideal version is not feasible. It would require rewriting an absurd amount of dialogues and rescripting bunch of cutscenes. I understand that.

BUT locking out certain endings for tadpilled (being unable to side with Orpheus, for example) should be patched in with the whole ending overhaul (that is NEEDED anyways). Otherwise what's the point in 'resisting' option at all? Couple of lines from Emperor that he is disappointed? Not enough😤

Tadpoles are a major part of the game, and yet narratively they mean absolutely nothing. I hate it.

Knowing they were planning to have consequences but chose not to... It makes it even worse. They understood the need to do something about it, and yet decided it was not worth the effort😔

#baldur's gate 3 spoilers #baldur's gate 3 #mauser talks cut content

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tieflingtareon · 7 months

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My love, are you the devil? (Oh, call me a devil)

Chapter 12 | Words: 4k

That devil is getting into his head, while others get into Tar'eons. He doesn't appreciate not having the upperhand after years of being at the disadvantage. He will find a way to make him see.

He is the one he should be listening to. Astarion would make it so, no matter the means.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50668558/chapters/127995079

Eventful. That was a great description for their lives right now.

After speaking with Jaheira, and then Isobel to receive her blessing, something Shadowheart did not seem pleased about, a feathered freak had come through to kidnap her, but ever the noble heart who couldn't allow the Harpers to perish to the shadow curse, Tar'eon took him on, one on one, while the rest of them slayed the winged minions.

It had been quite eventful, for the first night in the inn. Astarion thought he'd find himself in the company of Tar'eon after all of it, but when the tiefling found out Mol had been taken, he'd abandoned his side to comfort the distraught children, even if some of them were trying to act tough, trying to make a plan to get her back.

Tar'eon vowed he'd return her to them, and when Mirkon would not leave his arms, he resigned himself to putting the children to bed himself, much too big for the tiny beds, but it seemed to make the kids feel much safer to pile on top of him like pups with their mother. Astarion would admit, it was a sweet sight to come upon when he went to look for the man in the morning.

He may say he lacked perfect control over his tail, but it still managed to wrap around the children he couldn't hold in his arms, eyes closed and seemingly fast asleep.

Once Tar'eon finally came out to join the others for breakfast, Astarion noticed his tired gaze despite him drawing out a map of the Shadow Lands he'd borrowed from Jaheira. He hadn't slept much, and Astarion could tell. How much of the night did he spend worrying over Mol's kidnapping?

Tar'eon had gotten wind of a certain Sleeping Beauty over breakfast, and while Halsin insisted they figure out what was wrong with him, Tar'eon was stubborn in going straight to Moonrise and getting the tieflings back. Karlach and Wyll backed him up with no arguement, of course, and so, Halsin was stuck behind with the resting man, to be dealt with later.

"You didn't sleep well." Astarion noted as he dressed in his armour in their shared room that funnily enough, they had not shared the night before. Tar'eon sighed.

"He visited again. That butler of mine." Tar'eon sounded bitter as he struggled to lace his gauntlets. Astarion brushed his hand away with a huff and laced it tight for him, if only to end his nervous fidgeting.

"Well? What did he say?"

"He wants me to kill Isobel."

"The only one holding the Shadow Curse at bay? I may not like the Harpers, but I am not a fan of the idea, personally. For our own sake." Astarion grimaced. Killing her would just bring the curse right to them, and he knew Tar'eon wouldn't dare do that to the Harpers, or to the refugees staying there. Did this butler think the man daft?

"I just...don't understand his motives. Killing Isobel would be the death of us all."

"Perhaps all he wants is death." Astarion mused, fixing the collar of his armour. "Forget it. Can't kill the cleric if we aren't here, now can we? We have a mission to get to."

"You're right. I need to focus on getting Mol, Lia and Cal back. All of them." Tar'eons expression hardened with resolve and Astarion shook his head, grabbing the cloak off his bed. He offered it back to the man, seeing as it was his. Tar'eon took it and Astarion turned his back to grab a couple daggers, stashing them along his body, but keeping his favourite at his hip.

He stood straighter when he felt the heavy blanket of the cloak rest upon his shoulders, Tar'eons nimble fingers tying a sturdy knot to keep it there, looking as his work over Astarion's shoulder.

"It...it was a gift from him. The butler. I hate wearing it. It just - it just reminds me of what I did to Alfira. But it'll keep you safe. For every kill, you gain the power of invisibility, if only for a short period." Tar'eon smoothed his hands over the fabric, The Deathstalker's Mantle, a gift he had tried to refuse. It would have it's uses, he was sure, but he couldn't wear it himself. Couldn't bring himself to.

On Astarion though, objectively, it was quite fetching.

The vampire looked at him, seeming hesitant to accept the gift before he gave a smile, giving it a little swoosh as he stood before a mirror. He couldn't see himself, but the cloak - the cloak was gorgeous. Definitely expensive, and tailored precisely to Tar'eons measurements, if he had to guess.

To think, Tar'eon had a butler, an expensive cloak...Hells, maybe he was a prince, a murderous one at that, and just didn't know it? Astarion had always dreamed of a prince saving him from all his troubles, hadn't he? The irony of stumbling upon a possible one only after he was snatched from Cazador's grasp by another entity...

"Well, as they say. One man's trash, is another man's treasure." Astarion smirked and stepped forward, smoothing his hand over the others chest as he hummed. "I quite like all these gifts you keep giving me. However can I repay you?"

"By having my back, as I have yours." Tar'eon took his hand off his chest, holding it and chasing the chill from his fingers before he dipped his head and pressed a gentle kiss to his pale skin. The tiefling smiled at him, eyes fond as always.

Astarion was too focused on making sure his hand in his didn't shake, or god forbidden, grip back so tight he might break it.

****

"Have I ever told you how much I love your tongue?" Astarion picked up the Moon Lantern with a devilish smile, the bright light illuminating his features. A little pixie banged around inside, pleading to be set free. Tar'eon frowned, looking guilty, but Astarion shook his head.

"We're not letting you out."

"I"LL GUT YOU LIKE A-" Astarion gestured to the pixie for Tar'eon to see.

"Never trust a pixie, or any fey, my dear." He chuckled and kept a tight grip on the lantern as they travelled through the Shadow Lands. It only made sense, considering he only needed one hand for his enchanted dagger, though if needs be, he was happy to toss it to another and pull out his bow.

Seeing as he held the lantern, he led the way, but after a few hours of walking in what he was starting to believe was a circle...Well, they were honestly a bit lost. No, it wasn't his fault for refusing the map twice.

"If I have to follow him for another hour, I'll kill him." Wyll groaned, obviously sick of walking to nowhere.

"Astar, please. Just let me lead."

"You cannot fight and hold the lantern, darling, trust me, we're making head way -" And by the grace of whatever was holy, it seemed they had. Up ahead, he saw buildings, and he smirked. Not a castle, but something. "See?"

"It doesn't look like Moonrise."

"And how do you know what Moonrise looks like, hm?" Astarion challenged.

"It's a castle. This is not a castle, Astar."

"It's a town though, which means the castle is close. Trust me." Astarion waved his concerns off and continued on. Unsurprisingly, they were ambushed by shadow creatures.

It wasn't a hard feat to slash them down, not with Wyll and Lae'zel on the team, as much as he wished for Shadowheart's healing. Unfortunately, she'd woken up with a bloody limp. He should have expected it, after all those little glances, all those secret smiles. Their darling who burned hotter than Avernus and the Shar princess were down bad. With Karlach no longer a workplace injury in the flesh, she must have jumped at the chance.

He did wonder how a limp played into it, but who was he to expose such secrets? Though, they were barely a secret.

"Gods, I miss the sun." Astarion muttered. This place was so gloomy, and cold. He did peak a castle in the distance though, and smirked. See? He had been on the right track! "Tar'eon-"

Before he could inform him, the tiefling took off, curse be damned, and Astarion swore, running after the stupid man, Wyll and Lae'zel behind him.

"Arabella!" He barely kept their leader in the glow on their safety net, but once he saw what, or in this case who, he was running towards, he found himself rolling his eyes. It was always children. He had no self preservation when he saw a child in need. It was that young tiefling girl they'd saved from Kagha's viper.

"Hey! I know you. You're -" Astarion moved for his dagger when two shadow-y creatures burst from the ground, looming over Tar'eon and the girl. He readied himself to strike, but it seemed the child was one step ahead.

"Twist'em up!" With a pale green glow, the tiefling child managed to bind the shadows in place with her vines, looking exhausted from that feat alone.

"It's you - our little idol thief from the druids grove!" There was no doubt about it. Astarion would admit, he was growing a touch fond of the little band of thieves. He'd make an excellent mentor, he'd like to think. He could teach them more than a thing or two about being a rogue.

The tiefling child slumped her shoulders, and Astarion wondered if he'd said the wrong thing, but no, the child was looking at Tar'eon.

"Sorry. Knocks the wind right out of me." Arabella apologised. Wyll stepped forward with a smile.

"You did that with no incantation. That's an impressive feat. That kind of sorcery only comes from deep within." Of course the warlock had an opinion on her magic. Arabella seemed to stand straighter after the praise.

"That druid idol I took? It changed me. I can do all sorts of stuff now, not just the vines." Arabella looked to Tar'eon like she was searching for his praise next. "I think real hard and say some loud words and then it happens. Mostly." Tar'eon rested a hand on her head and ruffled between her horns, crouching down.

"What are you doing out here, Arabella? It's not safe." The girl withdrew into herself, suddenly as scared and frightened as she should be.

"I was looking. For mum and pops. When Zevlor - when he -" Her chin gave a little wobble but she stopped it quickly, as if refusing to cry over the matter. "Well. There was an ambush. Mum yelled 'run!'...So we ran. I could hear 'em running behind me. 'Til I couldn't."

Tar'eons eyes softened, filled with mourning for the girl as they both drew the same conclusion. They were both likely dead.

"Still can't find 'em - but I bet you can. You'll help me, I just know it!" Tar'eon gave a tight smile and nodded.

"I'll find your parents, Arabella. You can count on me." The relief was palpable from the young girl.

"Thanks, mister. I knew you'd help me again." Of course he would. He was a bleeding heart. "The vines won't last forever." Arabella looked towards the shadow creatures with apprehension. "I don't - I don't s'pose I can stay with you? Just 'til you find mum and pops, I won't be any trouble, I swear it!"

Astarion looked at Tar'eon apprehensively. A child? In their camp? That sounded like a dreadful idea. Though, Scratch could always use some more love, he supposed.

Tar'eon smiled.

"My friends are currently at the Last Light Inn. Cerys and the other children are there too. I'm afraid Mol was kidnapped during an attack, but I'm on my way to bring her back, along with the other tieflings." Tar'eon took the girls hand and squeezed. "I'll help you there with a little bit of ancient magic, alright? Speak to the others of my party when you arrive. Though, do not mind Withers. He's a bit scary to look at, but he's harmless, despite his lurking." Tar'eon smiled and took her other hand. He closed his eyes.

"I'm find your parents, Arabella. I'm going to make sure you all make it to Baldur's Gate this time."

"Thank you - Bring mum and pops back there. I'll be waiting." In a flash of purple, the young girl disappeared, likely landing herself outside the Inn as Tar'eon promised.

"Always the bleeding heart, darling." Astarion chuckled.

"He did the right thing. Who knows - maybe if we find Arabella's parents, they'll have a lead towards where the tieflings are being held in Moonrise." Wyll interjected and Astarion rolled his eyes.

"They'll either be dead, or in a prison cell. These Absolute cultists aren't exactly creative, or merciful. He saw the drow woman, and Nere."

"I'd like to hold onto hope that they're still alive regardless, thank you." Wyll frowned, annoyed by Astarion's blase tone.

"Of course you do. You're obsessed with fairy tales, and not the cold, hard truths of this world." Astarion bit out, glaring at the other man.

"Fairy tales can teach us a lot about how hard the world is, but in the end, hope will always prevail." Wyll crossed his arms, matching his gaze. Every thing about him screamed nobility, even in drabs, and Astarion wanted to tear into him. He wanted to sink his nails into his insecurities, his righteous nature, and claw them away until the man was raw and hopeless, just like he was.

"Hope drives men to madness more often than it does to happiness, devil man."

The muscle in Wyll's cheek twitched, looking ready to draw his blade on the vampire, but Tar'eon stood between them, a hand on either ones chest.

"Stop it. You've lived vastly different lives, with separate, incomprehensible struggles. You may believe the world to be bleak, Astarion, but Wyll does not. You may have given up on the notion of hope, but the rest of us haven't. All I ask is that you let it go."

Astarion could feel the back of his neck burning from the scolding, even if Tar'eon tone was more netural than fierce. He huffed and with a whip of his cloak, continued forward. He heard Tar'eon sigh, the others footsteps following him, if only because he held the lantern.

"Thank you. For sticking up for me." Wyll said in a soft voice to Tar'eon, but he could still hear it.

"Don't thank me. I'm just not ready to give up hope yet. It's...all I- we have left."

****

"Well, we've got our solution to my little problem. I say we go ahead." Astarion smirked as he made towards the entrance, but Tar'eon held him back by the elbow. He turned to the man and quirked a brow. "Yes?"

"We have to find Arabella's parents first, Astar. And free the tieflings, remember? Get Mol back."

"They aren't going to be more dead if we take a detour, darling." Astarion waved a hand and narrowed his eyes. "This is a deal that doesn't involve servitude. I'm going to take my chances before he decides to up the stakes."

"And if they're not? We don't know what's inside there, but I doubt it's leaving any time soon. Komira and her husband, Mol, the other tieflings - they can't wait."

"I thought this was important to you. Am I remembering it wrong, dear?" The pet name held no affection.

"Don't use that against me. I promised you we'd find a way to translate your scars. I meant it. But lives are at stake, and this can wait."

"You know I'm not patient."

"Learn some patience then. This will be a good lesson." Tar'eon wasn't giving in, and Astarion gritted his teeth, baring his fangs with a growl and shoving the lantern into the other mans hands.

"Fine. But if they're dead, like I predict they are, you owe me."

"Astarion..."

"Go on. We have corpses to find." Astarion said bitterly and stalked down the hill, forcing Tar'eon to follow. The tiefling sighed, looking weary as Wyll placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't take it to heart. He's a prickly creature. You're right to put urgency to this mission. They're your people, and they're relying on you. The best decisions aren't always the easiest."

"He doesn't believe in heroes. I know he doesn't. He's selfish because he see no point in being selfless. He doesn't gain anything from it. No one was ever selfless was his sake. I know he hates it when I tell him no." Tar'eon knew Astarion had flaws. That didn't stop his heart from aching.

He loved him. Deeply. In such a short time span, he'd managed to launch himself into the deep end of this pool of affection he felt for the other man, but he didn't know how to love him without receiving his fangs half of the time. He knew why Astarion was this way. He was afraid, they all were, but his fear was volatile.

He cursed Cazador for breaking down the man who held his heart in pale hands, ready to be devoured between sharp, pointed teeth.

"We can't always get what we want. He'll learn that with time."

"He's never had what he wants, Wyll. He hates when I tell him no, because that's all he's ever heard." Tar'eons brows drew together, pinched into a painful expression as he departed from Wyll's side, head bowed. Wyll stayed a few paces behind, unsure what to say to that. Lae'zels arm brushed his and he looked at her, the githyanki staring ahead at the pair.

"Tar'eon is a warrior, while Astarion is simply a survivor; they bear their burdens differently." She made a sound of irritation, as if she were planning to spit on the ground to get a foul taste out of her mouth. "I do not know what draws them together, but it is...palpable."

"And why're you telling me this?" Wyll quirked a brow, voice low as not to be heard, much like her near whisper.

"Because you follow after our leader like a dog. You are a warrior, like he is. Yet you hold yourself back. That is your failing. You idealise stories, fiction, and expect things to simply fit into place, like words on parchment." Lae'zel's cat like eyes turned onto him, intensely yellow in the darkness of the shadow lands.

"You must take action. Like a warrior." She stood straighter, somehow. Her posture was always perfect, much like his. Instinctive to stand tall. "Before he is tied down by the vampire."

"Astarion and Tar'eon - it won't last." Wyll was sure of that. "Astarion doesn't seem the type for...long term. Tar'eon seems the type to only want that."

"And yet, Tar'eon can convince the nightstalker to do many things that are out of the ordinary for him."

"What do you suggestion then? You seem to be well versed in this after all." Wyll quirked a brow, crossing his arms.

"Woo him." Lae'zel's eyes shone, her slitted pupils widening like she had spotted something she quite liked, gaze intense on the warlock. "Show him you are the better match. In my culture, the Githyanki do so by intimate combat."

"I'm afraid to ask what makes it intimate." Wyll frowned, looking away from her. For a githyanki, she was a beauty, but her ruthless attitude until now had made it hard to converse with her, not to mention her unsettling amount of eye contact. It was quite intimidating. As the journey continued though, he found she had opened up, if only a little, without her knowledge.

"I'd show you, if you weren't after another." Lae'zel hummed. "If things fall through, do feel free to ask for my company. Your scent is...not unpleasant."

Wyll blinked and watched her break stride, staying beside Tar'eon now in silence. He frowned as he picked at the collar of his robe, giving it a small sniff. While he had bathed the night prior, his armour hadn't had the chance to be washed in quite some time. He watched the githyanki and the tiefling, the large man offering her half his apple after breaking it in half.

Had he...been propositioned while being given relationship advice at the same time?

****

"I can't believe you convinced him to just kill himself." Astarion couldn't help the surge of giddiness thinking back to it. He knew he liked Tar'eon for a reason.

"I was avoiding a fight, and the man was insane." Tar'eon shrugged. "They say everyone is their own worst enemy." He picked up the lute and frowned. He doubted it belonged to the man. He'd find use of it. He slung it onto his back and placed his flute in his bag. It wasn't the only instrument he knew how to play, but it was his preferred instrument. It made a sweet sound, in his opinion.

"Well then...lets ransack the place." Astarion smirked as he went about looting anything he could. He wasn't particularly happy about this little side quest they were doing, but he was refusing to let Tar'eon get under his skin. He could act civil. The better person. Let Tar'eon come and grovel to him first.

They traversed through the building, searching for anything good, and stumbled upon what looked to be an infirmary. Wyll's face grew grim as he looked upon the bodies lying in the bed.

"It's Arabella's parents..."

"Fuck." Tar'eon came closer to look, shining the lantern upon them. Wyll was right. Komira and Locke laid together in the bed, well past reviving. His heart broke for little Arabella.

Tar'eon would have to tell her...she'd been so hopeful that he'd be able to help her. He felt like he had failed her, even if it was obvious that her parents had been dead for a while, a couple days at least. How long had Arabella been out there, looking for her parents?

"I told you." Astarion said, arms crossed, shaking his head. He sounded disappointed despite being right. "I told you this mission was pointless."

Tar'eon whipped around and grabbed the collar of his cloak, his tail whipping wildly in his anger.

"Don't. Just- don't."

"Oh please, even that child knew, deep down. She got her hopes up - she got your hopes up. I told you, it's pointless. If you think someone is dead? They likely are." Astarion had given many people over to Cazador, and while he didn't see their demise, he knew. When people were captured by monsters, they didn't simply come back. There was no point in hoping they'll escape their fate, whether you helped them or not. Sometimes death was better than what they'd live through if they were to live.

Tar'eons eyes held nothing but anger, with hurt bleeding into them as he let Astarion go, stepping back.

"Go back to the Inn then. If you don't want to help me, then you can go." Astarion opened his mouth in shock. He'd never been banished from the party before. He was always beside him, throughout the whole journey.

"You- you can't banish me." He laughed, breathless. "You need me."

"Not right now, I don't." Tar'eon gaze steeled. "Go, Astarion. Maybe a bit of time alone will make you realise how much of an asshole you are sometimes."

"I-..." Astarion scoffed. "I've never tried to hide that part of myself from you. It's your own fault if your poor heart is broken over the hard truths of this world." He stepped back and put on a expression that Tar'eon hadn't seen since the first day they met. Cool and calm; superior. Unfeeling.

"I'll see you tonight. Do tell me all the gory details when you find the bodies of those tieflings, unless they are by some miracle, alive." In a flash, he forced his connection to the sigil to bring him back to the Inn, opening his eyes to firelight and the scent of grass, rather then damp, darkness.

Astarion scowled and stormed off to his room, ignoring Shadowheart and Karlach's sounds of surprise at his return as he bounded up the stairs and slammed the door hard enough to rattle through the wall, dust falling into his hair. He snarled and ran a hand through it, running the perfect picture he tried to maintain painstakingly ever morning.

Good riddance. For once, maybe he could relax and read a book instead of being blasted and slashed at. He laid back on his bed, not caring about his armour as he tugged off his boots. He reached for the book sticking out of Tar'eons spare pack and opened it to the first page.

A Beginners Guide To The Infernal Language.

He glowered but read on. It might do him some good to learn more about the language scrawled on his back, if he was to convince Raphael to explain.

He never should have expected help. How foolish. He would help himself, like he always had.

The only person you could trust in this world was yourself.

#astarion x dark urge #astarion x mc #astarion x tav #astarion x male tav #bg3 astarion #bg3 fanfiction #astarion bg3 #bg3 tav #astarion #baldurs gate tav

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tieflingtareon · 7 months

Text

My love, are you the devil? (Oh, call me a devil)

Chapter 10 | Words: 4k

That devil is getting into his head, while others get into Tar'eons. He doesn't appreciate not having the upperhand after years of being at the disadvantage. He will find a way to make him see.

He is the one he should be listening to. Astarion would make it so, no matter the means.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50668558/chapters/127995079

Tar'eon was avoiding him.

Astarion wasn't stupid, he knew when someone was trying to escape his presence, even if Tar'eon was pretty good as playing it off so casually, busying himself with others so he didn't have to be alone with him.

They'd managed to slash their way into the Underdark, and after three days of exploring the dangerous terrain, covered in blood and smelling awful in Astarion's opinion, they'd managed to make it to the wizards tower.

"Wyll, can I trust you to take the lead on this one?"

Gods, he was getting sick of the devil mans name on Tar'eons tongue. He was always with him now, or Shadowheart, or Karlach - Hells, he even chose Lae'zels company over his own these days, and quite literally didn't know what a joke was. Frankly, she scared him.

"You got it." Wyll gave a charming smile, adding in a small salute before he made quick work of running forward and casting lightning into the watching guards of the tower. He went further to take the other out, Shadowheart following after the Blade once the coast was clear. Tar'eon made to follow as well, but Astarion grasped his arm, pulling him in close, obscured from the others behind the wall.

"Astarion-"

"You're avoiding me. I know you are. Why?" He quirked a brow, challenging. "Did you not enjoy our evening, darling? I can always give you a more...polished repeat, if you wish?"

Tar'eon actually deflated, looking defeated. He had never seen the man direct look so tired. Had he always had those dark circles? Was he sleeping? He hadn't asked Astarion to drink from him since that night he propositioned him, and if Astarion was honest, he was a little annoyed, but he couldn't bring himself to bring it up. He'd find something to eat later if Tar'eon wouldn't feed him.

"Can we...can we not, right now? I don't want to talk about this, Astarion." Tar'eon sighed and placed his hand on Astarion's arm. "Lets just get what we came for. Come on."

"I'm afraid I have no lock picks on my person, any chance one of you do?" Wyll came around the corner and quirked a brow at their closeness. Astarion huffed and walked past the warlock, bumping shoulders like he was some sort of stiffed school boy.

"I have some. You made quick work of those, but there may be more ahead, so I'll unlock the door, and you take charge." Tar'eon instructed to Wyll who chuckled.

"You tell me to lead, yet you plan our every move." Tar'eon had the audacity to blush. Astarion could hear the skip of his heart and his stomach soured.

"If you have any suggestions..."

"I'm only teasing, my friend. You have the most brilliant ideas anyway." He led Tar'eon with a hand on his elbow for just a few moments before he dropped it, and Astarion wanted to sink his teeth into the warlock. Not with the intention to feed, either.

Tar'eon was avoiding him, and now Wyll was cozying up to him like their sordid affair wasn't obvious. Lae'zel had even made a comment on their 'nightly affairs' and glared as she told Astarion to keep it inside the tent.

Fine. If Tar'eon didn't want to talk, so be it. Astarion would occupy himself until he came crawling back. Astarion would never grovel to another man again.

****

Astarion didn't usually get so ballsy with his hunts, but when a sleeping Minotaur had been on the menu, well...how could he resist? It was Tar'eons fault he was starving anyway. He may have gotten himself a touch blood-drunk though. He'd never experienced such a thing before, so he hadn't realised there was a limit to his overindulgence. It was much better than the buzz of wine. He felt giddy.

Tar'eon was approaching. Oh dear. He'd broken that pesky rule of his...Oh well. He didn't have to listen to anybody's rules, not anymore.

"There you are! My friend." He extended his hands out, giving a mocking bow to the man. Ignoring him for three days and then coming over to chat so casually? Whatever he wanted, it could wait. He was quite happy right now, and he didn't need the rain cloud that that man brought everywhere.

Tar'eon crossed his arms. Drats. He wasn't making himself appear very sober, now was he?

"At your service." He drawled, looking unimpressed.

"Are you now?" Astarion laughed a little. "Don't make promises you can't keep, darling." After all, his service hadn't been open to Astarion for the past few days.

"Thankfully, I've had my needs met this evening." Tar'eons brows furrowed and Astarion grinned. "I found a Minotaur. He took a little of my blood, but I took all of his." He'd given him a nasty scratch along his arm, but it was already beginning to heal.

"You seem happy." Oh, and Tar'eon sounded so bitter about it. Astarion had to stifle a giggle. He did enjoy riling the man up. "No need to drink humaniod blood, then?"

Was that why he came over? To offer his blood? Astarion scoffed.

"You're comparing plonk to vintage wine." He huffed at the comparison. Minotaur were basically animals. Like kobold. "You can make merry with either, but they are not the same." They weren't even in the same league. Tar'eon was the first actual person he drank from, and it had been the best thing to ever grace his tongue, as much as his curiosity considered the others necks.

"But Cazador fed me rats and bugs. And when you're used to drinking from a sewer, even plonk is a marked improvement."

"Sounds...delicious." Tar'eon looked as disgusted as Astarion did. He gave a humourless laugh.

"It was exactly as appetising as you'd think." He hoped he felt bad for not feeding him sooner. The prick. "Still. That was the past. I'll never have to grovel for him again." Not for anyone.

"True. You can start over." Tar'eon smiled now. He felt like he was finally getting through to the vampire. "You can be better than what he made you."

Astarions eyes shone as his imagination went wild.

"Exactly! I can be better than him. Stronger. More powerful. More-" Astarion noticed Tar'eons disapproving stance and grimaced. "Oh. You mean't...'be kinder'? Pet bunnies, that sort of thing?" He waved a hand and sighed.

"I have no objections to being nice, of course. Once I have the power to bend others to my will." Astarion smirked. If he weren't drunk on blood, he wouldn't have such a loose tongue, but seeing as Tar'eon was moving onto the next bed mate, who was he to care what he thought of him?

"You think power lets you do anything, free from consequences?" Tar'eon frowned, his brows furrowed like he didn't quite understand how Astarion could think that way. Astarion wasn't as naive as him though. He knew how the world worked. He'd lived worse than a mutt most of his life while under Cazador's thumb.

"Well...yes." It seemed only obvious. Did he really have to spell it out for him? "You can't look at the world and tell me I'm wrong."

Yet Tar'eon still shook his head, not seeing that Astarion was right.

"The strong have a duty to protect the weak, Astarion. Too much power - it's poisonous. Power corrupts. You do well to remember that." Astarion wanted to bare his fangs at the tiefling at the reminder that he was the one in need of this so called protection. That he was seen as weak in the others eyes. He should kill him on the spot, prove a point.

"A little corruption sounds fun." Astarion bit instead. "I spent centuries the victim of a corrupt man. It was the mindflayers who plucked me away from him. They gave me a gift." He glared at Tar'eon. "The strength to take my own freedom. I'm embracing this power, Tar'eon - and you should too."

"I told you, I won't do it." Tar'eon scowled. "I won't be discussing this any further with you."

"Oh come off it - you don't want to talk to me, period! Ever since that night, you've been avoiding me. I would say I'm hurt, but I'm really not."

"That's the problem, Astarion." Tar'eon thinned his lips. "You're never hurt. It's only ever me."

Astarion frowned, not quite getting what he was saying, not in his current state.

"Yes, so I've seen. You died, remember? I make a habit of not doing that, personally."

Tar'eon sighed and closed his eyes, shaking his head like he was simply too tired to be bothered with Astarion's quips.

"Goodnight, Astarion."

"Wha- you're not even going to give me a good response? You've lost your touch."

"Goodnight."

Astarion watched him go with a scowl, arms crossed over his chest. He huffed. Bastard ruined his mood, just as he predicted. He ignored the dull ache in his chest, going into his tent and closing it up tight. He didn't feel like any visitors tonight.

****

Tar'eon was acting strange. The bags under his eyes were only getting darker the further into the Underdark they went. Taking Nere's head back to the Myconid seemed to expel some of the tension in him, it seemed, but not by much.

One may think Astarion obsessed, but he really wasn't. He was simply observant. After centuries watching his masters every move, trying to calculate around his outbursts, his cruelties...

It was simply habit to watch, and watch closely.

Tar'eon was acting irrationally. He was losing the grip on himself from the lack of sleep, and Astarion could see it, the way that dark hunger swirled in his eyes the deeper they went. The man who would pick word over violence any day slayed Sovereign Glut like it was nothing when he suggested killing Spaw. Shoved the duergar off the boat and into the black waters without an ounce of remorse. Gave up the Captain with ease to Nere before he chose to slaughter him.

He had promised the girl, Thulla, after all. Even now, he kept his promises, but he was being bloodthirsty about them. It unsettled him, surprisingly. It was unsettling the rest of the group too, unsurprisingly. Their leader was becoming less himself as the days dragged on, and all the others had to explain it was the Underdark messing with the tieflings head, or the tadpole.

Astarion knew better.

"Something happened. Something you're not telling me." He waited until the others had retired before he approached the man. They still had much to explore of the Grymforge before they departed to the Shadow Lands. Even without a lantern, Tar'eon seemed set on leaving, and soon. Astarion understood. He too wanted answers sooner rather than later, and if Moonrise held them, he'd take some creepy shadows in hand to hand to get them.

Tar'eon turned his eyes away from the fire at Astarions words, and it was obvious he hadn't been looking to sleep, even if he desperately needed it.

"...That girl, Alfira...If it wasn't her, it would have been someone else." He sighed, looking back to the fire. Astarion stood above him, waiting for him to continue, but he didn't.

"For Gods sake - perhaps, yes, it would have been someone else. But it wasn't. Why are you bringing her up again anyway? Let the dead rest." Ironic for a vampire to say that.

"I...I had a visitor." He admitted and Astarion's interest was quipped.

"Oh? Is this the end of our late night trusts then?" He mused and Tar'eon sat up quickly, his eyes burning with anger as he glared up at Astarion.

"Can you just hold your tongue for five fucking seconds?" Astarion stepped back at the hiss, surprised by the potent irritation that radiated off him. He hadn't slept in days. Of course he wouldn't appreciate Astarions humour.

"...Go on." He tried not to sound angry himself, even if it was only natural to bristle when such a tone was used towards him. "You had a visitor." Tar'eons own anger seemed to melt away a bit, leaving him looking twice as exhausted as before, if possible. He laid back on his bedroll and stared up at the ceiling.

"He called himself my butler. He...he said I shouldn't deny my urges. That if I kept doing so, I'd be disinherited or something. How can he expect me to just- to just go around, maiming everything?"

"Haven't you been?" Astarion quirked a brow. "You've been on a war path for days now. They're all quite worried about you, darling."

"I- I'm trying to resist. I am. The only times I give in is- is when it's an enemy. I know I'm play with fire, but if I can somehow sate the urge while doing whats right...maybe I can keep those who are important safe."

"From experience, letting you play with fire doesn't go well." Astarion huffed softly, looking at the tired man. "...You can resist it. You told me yourself, that you wouldn't let anything take who you are. Who you want to be. If I catch you slipping again, darling, I will do you the favour of ending your misery quickly, alright?"

Despite the callous words, there was almost something tender about them, something soft in his voice that he couldn't hide, even when speaking of killing the man. Tar'eon smiled at him, small but true as he hugging his knees to his chest, looking away to the fire.

"If I ever turn on you guys, make it slow. I'd deserve it."

"This other being in your body may deserve it, but not you." Astarion sighed softly and crouched down, gently tilting Tar'eons chin to look at him. "You're not sleeping. You're scared you'll lose control again."

Tar'eon lowered his gaze and nodded softly, confirming his suspicions. Astarion tutted and crawled forward, the tiefling laying back without a protest, perhaps too tired to bother with one. Astarion brushed his cold lips over his throat, and Tar'eon shivered.

"If you bite me...I'll fall asleep. I don't know what will happen..."

"I will watch over you. You need to rest, for the others sake. You'll worry them sick."

"...And you?" Tar'eons hand was a hot presence against his lower back, trailing up and over the scars hidden beneath his shirt. "Will you worry?"

Astarion chuckled.

"Perhaps just a bit. Close your eyes, dear. Let me chase away those nightmares for you..." Astarion grazed his fangs over his pulse and bit down, breaking skin. Tar'eon gasped sharply, his arms slipping around the pale elf and holding him close.

It didn't matter how much distance he tried to put between them. He still craved this closeness. Knowing he would be watching over him, Tar'eon couldn't help but close his eyes, trusting the vampire as he let his exhaustion consume him.

Nobody dared to wake him, even well into the morning, least they suffer the wrath of the vampire beside him, fixing an shirt much too large for himself with needle and thread.

****

Before their trek back to Grymforge, Tar'eon made sure to ask Blurg about his collection of books, seeing as he seemed to be some sort of scholar.

"I...I'll admit, I know the Infernal language in a manner of speech, but I struggle to read it. Words, they're - instinctive. Even without my memories. I was wondering if you had any books on learning the Infernal language I could purchase from you."

"Hmm...You know, I may just have one from my own personal collection. I was given it as a gift from a friend, but I'm afraid languages are not my forte." Blurg opened his chest and rummaged through it for a couple moments before making a sound that showed he'd found what he was looking for. "Here you go. After everything you've done for the people hosting my friend and I, consider it a gift. Perhaps we will meet again."

"Hopefully after I'm rid of this tadpole." Tar'eon smiled and graciously accepted the gift. The journey across the water was a long one, so he tucked himself into his own corner and read as they travelled. Karlach was surprisingly sea sick, and spent most of the journey being comforted by Shadowheart, who offered her a potion to hopefully ease it, Wyll trying to distract her with a fairy tale from his childhood.

Tar'eon spent most of the day reading over the text, trying to memorise every letter of the language, every conjunction, the basics...

He only bothered to put it away during battle. Going against a giant robot was no easy feat, but once they realised it was weak in the lava, and took a decent amount of damage when crushed, it had been easy to take it down. They even ended up with quite the weapon, which he graciously passed to Wyll.

"I think you'd be the most proficient with this, considering you favour the rapier. They seem to be similar."

"Oh yes, but this will deal a lot more damage." Wyll smiled wide, looking at the faintly glowing scimitar with excitement. He gave it a test swing, a parry, humming to himself as he twisted his wrist. "It has a slightly different feel, but...I think it will do perfectly. Thank you, my friend. This Blade will do The Blade well."

The pair shared a smile, Tar'eon simply happy to make Wyll happy with the gift.

Astarion decided to take a wander while they had their moment, and stumbled across a magma monster, making a curious sound before he took out a fire resistant potion. He could see treasure on the other side, and he was quite curious.

Curiosity may kill the cat, but satisfaction brought it back, and seeing as Astarion was already dead, he was all for satisfying his every little desire. He managed across without disturbing the monster, his boot soles only a touch melted, and unlocked the box. He grinned as he opened it, only to find an amulet.

"Huh. How boring. It's not even pretty..." He picked it up nonetheless, planning on selling it, when a fit of giggles threatened to overtake him. Oh Gods. He touched a cursed amulet, didn't he?

He continued to laugh, trying to calm himself before he got the magma monsters attention. He was shocked to hear laughing that wasn't his own and stared at the monk before him. He wasn't in the favour of helping people, but seeing as he might literally die of laughter if he didn't accept, he agreed to take him towards Baldur's Gate. Tar'eon seemed quite amused by his occasional giggle, the amulet almost tickling them out of him at times. He was grateful when they got to camp and he was able to put it in the chest, far away from his person. He had other thinks to think about.

Like the scars on his back. It was starting to grate on him, not knowing what it said. He wasn't fluent in Infernal, Hells, he knew next to nothing, but he liked to think himself a quick learner in every task given to him. And knowing it may be a contract that could bring him back to Cazador...it made his skin prickle and the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

Seeing as he couldn't use a mirror, he removed his shirt and attempted poorly to feel over the bumps and ridges, trying to make out the lettering so he could spell it out, but he was only growing increasingly frustrated.

"Bloody Infernal. How is anyone meant to read this garbage?"

"I thought you didn't care what Cazador wrote on your back?" Astarion jumped, so lost in the task he hadn't noticed his favourite tiefling approaching from behind. When had he gotten so soft? He was sure he used to be better at this. When had Tar'eons footsteps stop registering to his ear like any other regular person?

"Ah! There you are. I admit, I got curious." Astarion chuckled, turning to look at the man. Tar'eon had a book in his hands, watching Astarion with curiosity. It seemed they'd both been thinking about it. Tar'eon felt like he could finally give some input to the scars in question, having consumed the book avidly.

"I've been tracing the scars on my back with my fingers, trying to read them by touch, but I can't." He admitted, a little defeated. "They may as well be written in Rashemi."

"Want me to get you a mirror?" Astarion baulked at the mirth in the others eyes, and scowled.

"That had better be a joke. I can't read it with a mirror, and it seems I can't read it with my hands either." He waited for the tiefling to offer his assistance, but he stood there, silent, watching him. He could almost feel himself flush, continuing.

"So...I was wondering if maybe - perhaps - you might be able to..." Gods, it was like pulling teeth with the man, he was still watching him and not saying anything. "Can you read what's on my damned back?" He snapped before clearing his throat, his 'please' near inaudible.

Tar'eon chuckled.

"Of course. Turn around. I'll try my best. I've been doing some reading, actually." Astarion turned around for the man to see the scar, feeling strangely vulnerable as he spread his arms as if to say 'go ahead'.

He tensed slightly as the other traced out a couple letters, Tar'eons head tilted in confusion as he read. It was all fragmented, like it was incomplete, but he doubted it. He could make out something about an oath, and 'the fires below', likely referring to an oath to the Hells. It looked almost like...

A piece of a larger text. Hadn't Astarion mentioned something about the other spawns also being carved into? Perhaps he wasn't the only one stuck in this oath Cazador had made.

"And?" Astarion asked, impatient. "What does it say?"

"Well, it's not a poem, as I suspected." Tar'eon frowned. "It might be a devil's pact, but it's incomplete. Or, I should say, it's only part of a larger pact all together."

"An Infernal pact, and not even the whole text?" Astarion felt a rush of indignation, turning around with a scowl. "What was that bastard up to...?"

"If he did make a deal with the devil, he might be more dangerous than we thought." Tar'eon admitted, his jaw clenched in anger. He was growing to despise this Cazador man more and more as time went by. It burned like the fires of the Hells in his belly.

"More dangerous than you thought, perhaps. I never had any doubts." Astarion gritted his teeth, fangs threatening to split his lip. "But if this is a part of a contract, it must be powerful. Or valuable. Or both." The knowledge he'd stolen away with something precious to Cazador, some sort of power he could no longer access...Oh, it was nice. His spiteful black heart rejoiced at the notion.

"No wonder he wants me back. What have I run off with..."

"There's more to the contract. My question is where the rest of it is?"

"I wasn't his only spawn. And he tortured us all - I imagine each of us carry this Infernal contract."

"I had assumed the same." Tar'eon frowned, holding his chin thoughtfully.

"My question is what could a devil have offered to Cazador? He had wealth, power, control - what more could you want?" He couldn't fathom wanting for anything else.

"There's a lot someone could want past money and power. Though, greed can become gluttony. When you have so much, you can forget how little others have, and desire even more, assuming you deserve it."

Astarion sighed. Still. Cazador truly had everything. What more could he want?

"Thank you, by the way. This is...well, it's something."

"I told you. This is important to you, so it's important to me." Despite the ache in his chest, he meant it. Astarion had his heart, even if the man wasn't ready to accept it. "We'll figure it out. I promise."

"Will we?" Astarion hummed. "How...sweet. That book - did you buy it, just to try and read to garbage on my back?"

"I'd prefer to avoid a deal with the devil, should we stumble upon him again. His smarmy face annoys me."

"Oh? I thought him rather handsome. I'm seeming to find myself quite...enchanted by devilish looks." Astarion gave a small tug on his horn as he passed him by to put his shirt back on, a playful smirk on his pretty mouth, and Tar'eon bit his lip.

He would not be swayed again. He really did have to put this to an end soon, before the hurt grew worse than it already was. Sometimes being around the man made his heart ache so fiercely he couldn't breathe. He could just...never bring himself to say no to him.

Gods. He hoped someone out there was praying for him, or he might perish beneath the vampires wishes.

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