#and bhaal being like “not allowed” | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

meanbossart · 1 month

Note

Love Drow's camp greetings, but now I've got to know-- what would his romance path look like?

(This was a REALLY FUN thought experiment, thanks for asking about it!)

You'd get approval points by: -Picking the joke dialogue options, especially if they're dark or crass. -Succeeding intimidation checks. -Starting fights no-questions-asked with characters that don't immediately show you respect. -Defying authority. -Antagonizing drows, githyanki, mindflayers and goblins. -Being friendly towards animals. -Showing willingness to do what the dream visitor suggests. -Notable boost if you let him take on the Loviatar priest in your stead.

You get disapproval by: -Disclosing to people that you're infected with the tadpole. -Agreeing to help NPCs who aren't offering to get rid of your parasites. -Some deception checks (he doesn't always realize you're lying). -Being distrustful/pushy with Shadowheart. -Siding with the absolute. -Trusting or empathizing with the Emperor at all after he reveals himself (Yes, he will leave you if you bang the squid). -Massive point loss if you don't let him take on Orin on his own.

[More elaboration underneath the cut, CW for terrible relationship dynamics and implications of sexual coercion, especially within the context of BDSM.]

He can be persuaded to allow you to have a one-night-stand with Halsin, but will not agree to a three-way relationship or long-term arrangement.

He will stay with you if you sleep with Mizora without the need to roll for anything, but you will lose a lot of approval.

He will agree to a four-way with the twins at Sharess Caress if you ask him about it, but only after you complete his quest. If he has lost to Orin he will kill the twins during the act. If he has accepted Bhaal, he will ask if you want to kill them with him, but you can refuse/dissuade him from doing so.

In regards to his personal interactions, you would usually get choices between antagonizing him, expressing fear, not taking him seriously at all, or making flirtatious advances.

He's neutral/disapproving towards flirtation prior to triggering a romance (though he still reacts flattered). He's neutral/approving of not being taken seriously and/or being feared, as long as the PC is being somewhat facetious and not expressing outright distrust or doubt toward his capabilities. Basically, as long as what you're saying implies that he's formidable, or makes him laugh, he will like it.

After the romance is initiated, he will enjoy flirtatious dialogue options that put him in the role of the desired, compliment his looks/abilities, or express general affection. You would also get options that paint him in a kind of "sexually predatory" light - he doesn't like those.

You could encourage him to embrace his Urge at the start of the campaign for approval, then he flips to wanting you to discourage it after it grows outside his control. If he accepts Bhaal, this switches it back to where he approves of it being encouraged. If he loses to Orin, he will just agree with you whether you tell him to give into his Urges or keep fighting them.

You can break up with him at any point unless he has accepted Bhaal; In that case, he won't agree to it and say that when he takes over the brain you won't have a choice on the matter. The only way to keep him from betraying you during the ending is to either kill him or staying in the relationship with him and dominating the brain together.

As for the actual romance scenes, it'd be similar to Astarion's route where you get to sleep with him right away, then the following interactions are more focused on other forms of intimacy and developing the emotional side of the relationship. You would get the option to push for more sex every time, which he would turn down out of fear of what the Urge might do if he goes along with it - if you keep pushing even after that, it gets you disapproval.

During the scene that locks the romance path (prior to arriving at Baldur's gate) you can persuade him to have sex, and if you succeed he will lose control and try to murder you during the act. The only way to survive it is to kill him instead. You can be resurrected if you lose (he cannot) but he then breaks up with you.

The "themes" of his romance are supposed to allude to the different dynamics of a maso-sado/dom-sub relationship. If you push him to pursue Bhaal you are setting yourself up for a 24/7, lifelong arrangement. the relationship is reduced entirely to your sexual desire for each other, the pushing of boundaries with no limits, and constant one-upmanship. You are no longer allowed (and outwardly mocked) for displaying any tenderness that isn't sexually charged, and he will become angry with you if during your night together following the finalization of the quest you don't pick the aggressive/violent options during intimacy.

If he loses to Orin, he becomes entirely emotionally dependent on the player character, willing to bend to your every will and latch onto the PC as his new master whether or not they agree to it. He is terrified of his fate and desperately wants to please you so you don't abandon him before he loses himself. You can either take advantage of this and revel in the power you have over him, become frustrated, or demonstrate patience and try to encourage him to hold onto some individuality. You can also just kill him, which he will allow you to do through dialogue options at any point. During the romance scene that follows this path, you can only have sex if you restrain him completely first.

If he refuses Bhaal, you get yourself a quiet, cocky, but loving weirdo who enjoys play-dynamics a healthy amount but is ultimately in it because he likes you as a person. He's willing to compromise on the maso-thing as long as you don't put him down for it, and it is implied that while things may not be perfect, you are both willing to work on it through mutual understanding and patience because the relationship is based on more than just burning desire or co-dependency.

#ask #bg3 spoilers #companion DU drow

355 notes · View notes

dhampling · 3 months

Text

˗ˏˋ i'm dal - she/‎‎‎her. 23. ˎˊ˗ astarion x reader content • 18+ only, minors dni! ‎‏‏‎ ꙳⊹ ﾟ⋆ • about me • ko-fi • ao3 • my caps • © DHAMPLING. do not copy, repost, modify, or translate my works. theme by @bhaalism. pfp by @mutualcombat.

butter gn!reader, 2.5k you and the vampire spend a short gloaming sun discussing marriage

both free gn!reader, 2.1k you reject bhaal’s greatest gift - to this, your horrified love bears witness

one mine, both yours bard gn!reader, 1.6k astarion’s habit of visiting your tent leads him to your hidden pile of sonnets

the shepherd, the black sheep gn!reader, 2k a plummet into a chasm leaves you and your light-fingered friend stuck. together, you wonder if you’ll ever emerge again.

sylvan gn!reader, 2.8k a chance series of encounters in youth come together on one night, where everything just clicks for Astarion and his unicorn.

the sunwalker's gift gn!reader, 3.3k you find a ring - after a lot of searching - that allows astarion to walk in the sun, and propose with it.

gush fem!reader, 2.2k (NSFW) it rains. you swindle some wine and astarion cums in his breeches.

oh, mother fem!reader, 3.3k (NSFW) it’s the mummy fic.

lifeblood fem!reader, 2.5k (NSFW) astarion discovers an aphrodisiac during a trip to the night market, and only one thing is on his mind.

ivory tower fem!reader x ascended!astarion, 4.6k (NSFW) you're still mortal, and there's good reason for it.

warming fem!reader 1.2k (NSFW) early morning feeding and cockwarming because i said so.

swell fem!reader 1.9k (NSFW) feral pregnant sex with the elf. inspired by this NSFW piece by the ridiculously talented @mutualcombat.

leeches girl!dadstarion, <1k astarion and his daughter have a spat.

little love girl!dadstarion, <1k dadstarion watches dhampling sleep.

bramble jam girl!dadstarion, <1k “In what realm would we need this much jam?”

the gate girl!dadstarion, 1.5k astarion is a school-gate dilf on his first pick-up adventure with you.

sunburn girl!dadstarion, <1k dhampling gets sunburnt!

introducing the siblings girl!dadstarion (inbox prompt) "I had this image in my mind of him introducing the older girls to their new baby sister each time and just being sweet and cute"

breakfast girl!dadstarion (inbox prompt) astarion trying to make breakfast for the growing brood while tav/reader is like, "my love, you wanted this"

bump dadstarion x reader (inbox prompt) astarion being a lil shit and causing more kicks talking to and touching tav's baby bump as tav tries to rest?

stretch marks dadstarion x reader (inbox prompt) Imagine a tav who’s really insecure about these marks [...] and when they bring it up to astarion he decides the best course of action is to show them how much he loves them.

snuggles dadstarion x reader (inbox prompt) when tav is pregnant astarion would love snuggling up to their baby bump - curling around them and listening for signs of their little one

shallow bites girl!dadstarion (inbox prompt) "I think it would be really funny if astarion and tav’s daughter was practicing her bites and pickpocketing on the two of them, respectively. [...] No ancunín is going to grow up being a half-rate pickpocket!"

hugs from behind dadstarion x reader (inbox prompt) "hugging the other from behind" from this list of prompts with astarion hugging his very tall, very pregnant wife from behind because I think the image of it is so cute.

tiefling tav showing affection via their tail tief!reader (inbox prompt)

valentine's day with astarion gn!reader (inbox prompt)

earthbound astarion x earth!born reader (inbox prompt) "how do you think astarion would handle a tav who is actually from earth and is going to return home after defeating the netherbrain?"

reunited astarion x earth!born reader (inbox prompt) "a follow-up to earth tav somehow reuniting with astarion, via reincarnation or another divine intervention"

patience gn!reader (inbox prompt) "hmm, you're not very patient, are you?" from the one-liners list"

baking gn!reader (inbox prompt) "ASTARION GETTING INTO BAKING AND ASKING YOU TO SAMPLE ALL OF HIS BAKES"

thulsun fem!reader, not tav! 3.7k (NSFW) under rework! astarion appears at your parlour one evening in a cloud of smoked bergamot and the briefest hint of spunk, and it becomes oh-so difficult to watch him leave.

three, minimum fem!reader, 4.3k (NSFW) astarion has been planning, for the first time in his life. He wants babies.

nought point five fem!reader, 4.7k (NSFW) seven months along, he’s besotted with every pregnant piece of you.

one fem!reader, 2k astarion is a newly-minted girldad. that’s it. that’s the plot.

one more fem!reader, 2.9k (NSFW) your home is quaint. astarion continues to insist it isn’t busy enough.

(astarion x fem!reader au, NSFW) he's a potwasher. you want to fuck the potwasher. this started as a joke and now i'm obsessed. enjoy.

one two

#pinned post #blog intro #astarion x reader #bg3 #my writing #masterlist

364 notes · View notes

thecampjuicebox · 4 months

Note

I always wondered how the romanced companions would react if Orin kidnapped the player character. Any thoughts?

Be prepared for some angst because PHEEEEWWWWW

Astarion

At this point in the story, romanced Astarion and Tav are very close. He even states that Tav is the only person he's ever cared for, so I can imagine he'd be devastated if his beloved was taken by Orin. He'd take a relatively unhinged approach to saving them, running in with fangs bared. Daggers swinging. He'd make quick work of Orin, slicing and dicing to save his love. They've always done so much to save him so he'd feel it was his duty to do the same in this instance. Once he's able to hold them in his arms again, he'd allow himself to cry. Sob, even. He'd hold them close, smooth their hair back, bury his face in their neck to deeply inhale their familiar scent, but not until telling them how stupid they were for allowing themselves to be kidnapped by the shape-changer in the first place.

Karlach

Tav is Karlach's first taste of intimate touch in YEARS. Her first taste of love for as long as she can remember. When she finds out Tav is the one taken by the shape-changer, it would break her. Shatter her into a million burning pieces. Her engine would run hotter than the searing fires of Avernus. She'd yell and spit and grab the nearest bludgeoning object she could to absolutely decimate Orin where she stands. The pale eyed woman has caused enough problems and with Karlach's already crushed morale after seeing Gortash again, she'd go absolutely ape shit. She'd fall to her knees in front of Tav. Hug their legs. Cry as she rubs her nose across their thighs. Cling to them like a child. "Don't ever leave me again, Soldier. I can't bear it."

Wyll

First and foremost Wyll, I think, would be the most level headed in this situation. He'd quickly devise a plan to save his love. The Blade of Frontiers or the Blade of Avernus, either way, he'll prove his heroism and his devotion to Tav. No one lays a finger on his prince/princess. Their Devil in shining armor. He'd make an entrance similar to when Tav first encounters him in the Emerald Grove. Bold and brave, ready to dominate the fight. And once Tav is assured safe, he'd sweet them off of their feet. Shower them in love and praise of their bravery during this traumatic event.

Shadowheart

Shadowheart is very reserved and quiet about her feelings and thoughts. If her love was taken by Orin, I think she'd play calm about it while absolutely losing it inside. She's mentioned previously that she isn't one for romances, more just short lived flings. With Tav, however. It's incredibly different. She'd rally the other companions and rush into Bhaal's temple to find Orin. Slay here right there. And then take Tav into her arms and check them other, make sure the shape-changer caused them no serious harm. If she had, Shadowheart would heal them. Make them feel safe once more.

Lae'Zel

Lae'Zel's love of Tav goes from 0-100 real quick, and hearing that Tav was taken by an enemy, I think she'd LOSE it. Lae'Zel has not known love like her love for Tav. Tav showed her freedom and no one is going to take that away from her now. She's not known to show very intense emotions, but I think she would let herself cry this time. Lae'Zel is trained in combat so taking Orin down would not be a difficult feat with the help of the other companions. Once Tav is safe, she'd embrace them with all of her strength. Hold them close to her as she mumbles softly in their ear "Zhak vo'nfynh duj. Source of my joy."

Gale

Gale is such a soft lover. His prior relationship with Mystra caused a lot of trauma and I think his romance with Tav is his key to being happy again. With himself and in general. Even the threat of having to blow himself up is softened by Tav's presence. "One moment with you could sate me for a lifetime, and prise the fear from my heart." Once he learns that Tav was taken, I know for a fact he'd go into bad bitch mode. He'd storm his little wizard self right into Bhaal's temple and fireball the hells out of Orin before she could get a word in edgewise. Where'd all this courage come from? The lovely idea that after all of this is over and Tav is safe, they can return to the illusory scene of his tower in Waterdeep and reside there whenever the feeling arises. Not without a lecture on why it wasn't the smartest idea to get kidnapped, though.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 headcannons #companion headcannons #gale dekarios #karlach #astarion #wyll ravengard #shadowheart #lae'zel

282 notes · View notes

chaoticbardlady99 · 4 months

Text

Repose, My Love, I Have Sinned Enough (Astarion x F! reader)

CW and just content- violence, brief description of gore, enemies to lovers, mutual pining, brief mentions of sexual shiznet

Synopsis- You are a cleric of Kelemvor- a God that detests the undead and resurrection due to it disrupting the natural process. However, the Pale Elf you met in the aftermath of the mind-flayer incident is important to the bigger picture.

You’ve defeated Cazador and Orin, but Bhaal Cultists are still at large and they are specifically looking to kill you.

Song for this particular one shot is Eternally Yours by Motionless in White. Title is derived from the song.

Author note- I can’t remember when I recently read a few concepts on tumblr that I integrated into this writing (I.e. a God did answer Astarion’s prayers- I put my own twist on it, used a line from the game in a different spot for plot reasons). If anyone wants me to write any spin offs about specific moments, please let me know cause I love these two and I lowkey want to write mutually consensual ‘Gods I cannot stand you’ sex.

Hope you enjoy!

Photo belongs to @cheekylittlepupp on Tumblr

You hated him.

Astarion Acunín was single-handedly the worst thing that could have happened to you.

And you had quite literally fell out of the fucking sky with a tadpole in your head.

“My apologies” your ass. The minute he held that knife to your throat should have been enough. He duped you and he duped you good.

Overtime, you thought that Astarion was a pompous ass and you hated him for his existence- everything your God, Kelemvor, rejected. In spite of it all, you still let the man drink from you when he needed blood.

Kelemvor heard your prayers and allowed you to work with Astarion with no retribution to you. Being a part of a Divine plan to save the world has ultimately saved the Spawn.

Oh and Astarion despised you just as much- maybe even more. You were a threat to his safety- only allowed to protect him because your God had allowed it. So what happened once you no longer had need of him?

The two of you fought like cats and dogs, but your actions towards each other were in direct opposition with every nasty word you flung at each other.

The second week into the journey had demolished your armor and destroyed your only camp clothes. You had been silently upset about the endeavor- knowing there won’t be anyone selling any lounge clothes until you get to Baldur’s Gate.

The armor was an easy replacement- people sell plenty of that shit apparently.

You had asked everyone in camp (minus Astarion) if they either knew how to sew, had an extra blanket or cape you could use that they didn’t need, or had an extra shirt. Everyone told you no, but they would keep an eye out.

You tried your best to stitch it up yourself, but the thing had been a damn mess. You were sitting in your bra and leather pants while successfully tangling your shirt with the string.

You had finally had it and screamed at the top of your lungs. You threw the shirt on the floor of your camp and walked off with your Mace. It took an hour of hitting a tree and two wild hog kills before you had calmed down enough to attempt to return to your work. It was almost evening when you left and now it was getting dark as you got back- still in only your (sports like Karlach’s armor btw) bra, leather pants, and your flimsy camp shoes.

Gale had been thrilled to have the fresh meat, but had made you feel horribly embarrassed because he was trying to not gawk.

You had been a good sport about it- ignoring it entirely- and then went back to your tent to try to have something resembling a shirt before dinner.

Except the heap of string and cloth that had been strewn everywhere was gone- your shirt was perfectly stitched up and folded. There was a note attached.

So Gale doesn’t die from a boner induced stroke- Astarion p.s. I still hate your guts.

You gave him the Necromancy of Thay as a thank you and with the condition that Gale never knows.

You’ve also surprised him a multitude of times. You knew the right thing to do was to give him over to Galendral. It was just you and Astarion. You could team up with the monster hunter and just tell the group it had been a sudden “oh shit now I’m allergic to fire” moment.

Instead you helped Astarion kill the man and oooed and aweed over his very nice crossbow together.

Or the time that Araj wouldn’t stop asking him to drink her blood. You got so fed up that you knocked her out cold, woke her up, asked if she got the message, she said yes, and then you knocked her out cold again. Just because it felt good at that point.

“A woman after my own heart.” Astarion teased.

Your companions would frequently yell at you to get a room and you’d both scream about how awful the other is before storming off.

However, the two of you were formidable in battle when you worked side by side. It was the only time the group had any reprieve from your bickering. He stayed close to you and refused to let you go anywhere without him. You finally confronted him on it when he complained for the millionth time about all the walking.

It ended up with you two fighting in front of a very knowing Karlach and Shadowheart, yelling at each other nonsensically, and then Astarion suddenly broke up the fight by saying, “it’s not my fault your God won’t let me resurrect you if you die doing something stupid- which is very possible knowing the nature of this group!”

He stormed off in a huff and you shut up pretty quickly after that.

A flip had switched in your relationship following the first major fight the group had engaged in.

While making your way through the Goblin Camp- you had been injured fatally while trying to protect Gale from Minthara. You had been laughing and borderline crying with the irony of it all- you were allowed to keep the Spawn alive and anyone could resurrect him- but you got to sit there and die. For the first time- you aren’t comforted by the fact that your God will be waiting for you. In fact, all you can think about is Astarion.

Shadowheart was helping kill Priestess Gut and Halsin was in the middle of trying not to be killed by Dro Ragzlin. It was only you, Gale, and Astarion fighting and you are completely out of magic to heal yourself. You swallowed against the lump in your throat and took one last conscious ragged breath. You had let the world start to fade to black and the last thing you saw was Astarion running towards you.

Then you woke up next to the fire hours later with Astarion sitting on the log next to you- his book casting a shadow over his face.

Shadowheart told you that Astarion had practically half dragged her to where you were as Gale was forcing your unconscious body to take healing potion after healing potion. She told him not to worry- they could always resurrect you. Shadowheart says she regrets even uttering those words.

“Are you that incredibly unobservant or are you that ignorant, Sharran?” Astarion snarled, “she’s a Cleric of Kelemvor- resurrecting her would quite literally ruin her life so you better have a better back up plan than that.”

Astarion had been a mess and when they tried to put you in your tent- he had gotten pissed at them even more.

“She sleeps next to the fire, you incompetent fools,” he scoffed, “you can’t honestly expect her to heal in the coldest fucking corner of camp in that shitty excuse of a tent.”

You didn’t know how it happened- let alone twice, but you and Astarion did end up sleeping together. Kelemvor disapproved greatly (making it known after you helped Astarion kill a devil for Raphael) and you pushed Astarion away when he asked you to try to be in a relationship with him.

When he asked why- you told the truth. You were always meant to be enemies- you had allowed this to go on for too long and you should never have indulged in feelings that were silly- foolish even. Astarion’s heart was broken and he has been bitter towards you ever since.

You are the only one who knows that every word you said felt like you were being given a thousand papercuts. You want him so desperately- in every sentimental way you can think of.

But you are nothing- basically powerless- without Kelemvor. You can’t protect Astarion if you have no magic or the ability to heal.

The only exception to his bitterness was the day you barely saved him in time from Cazador.

You had found a blood stain next to his bed when you went to check on him. You had a weird feeling that you needed to. Astarion told you he had to grab something from upstairs before joining you all for a drink.

You had never run so fast- shouting at your companions to get in their gear and meet you at the Crimson Palace. Your lungs hurt as you raced through Baldur’s Gate with angry, vengeful tears streaming down your face.

You had basically demolished every single creature and person who was in your way- your abilities against the Undead coming in handy. Cazador had barely started the ritual when you came in and began slaughtering all the creatures guarding him- your companions were on your heels and came just in time.

You were able to focus on killing Cazador and stopping the ritual. You succeeded. When you released Astarion from his bindings so he could finish Cazador once and for all- the first thing he did was pull you into him and he clung to you for dear life.

“I thought I’d never see you again.”

Astarion decided not to ascend by some miracle. He still hasn’t told you why.

He took you to his grave and asked if you would give your blessing for his new birthdate. You had been absolutely bewildered- saying that is for your God to say, not you.

“I don’t care about your God, Tav,” Astarion said with desperation, “I just want to know you acknowledge that I am living- that I’m worthy of this new beginning. If you don’t feel that way or you just can’t- I will never bother you again.

“But if you do feel that way… please,” he stared at you earnestly, “you are the only one I know worth worshipping- yours is the only blessing I want to have.”

Kelemvor had told you you were on thin ice in a dream that night- your blessing had meant the world to Astarion, but was a cardinal sin to your God.

Kelemvor didn’t have anything to worry about- Astarion went back to being bitter and hateful towards you two weeks later anyway. One day you went from being friends to him bringing partners to fuck in the private room on your floor. He was also back to arguing with you and being nasty as all get out.

You don’t know why the Wood Elf at the Carnival specifically sought the two of you out the other day. You both scoffed at the idea, went into it expecting it to be a disaster, and then promptly avoided each other in the aftermath.

She told you your love for each other is impenetrable.

Considering the current situation- you think it was all just a shitty carnival trick.

It’s moments like these, as you watch him flirt with a very beautiful woman across the room at Elfsong, where you cling to those moments of intimacy you had been able to experience with him.

You are always heartbroken when he brings someone to the private room. It’s close to your bed and you can hear everything.

You couldn’t bring yourself to pretend you are okay with it today. You couldn’t pretend to be ‘just fine’ or unfazed. A child had died under your watch and you had barely killed Orin- the battle was gruesome and you saved Lae’zel in time (Thank Gods).

It has been a hard day. You are incredibly tired and your tipsy brain is grieving the fact that you don’t get to curl up next to him at the end of the day anymore. You haven’t been sleeping well since you stopped sleeping next to him- your nightmares came back in full force.

Your heart is entirely crushed like your spirit. You are certain that it’s beginning to show on your face and it makes you feel gross. You try not to be too obvious with how much you want to leave, but your little walk- sprint is far too awkward and telling.

There are plenty of Taverns to drink from with plenty of people to talk to. It may only be an hour and a half before the sun rises, but tomorrow is a day off so who cares? Besides, Baldur’s Gate never sleeps.

You don’t see Astarion watching you leave, the woman in front of him storming off in envy.

You don’t know that Astarion saw how you looked his way when he got closer to the woman in front of him- let alone that interacting with another person this way instead of being with you makes him equally as heartbroken.

None of these encounters felt right nor did they feel good. He had declined to Ascend- taking it to heart when you said you want him to be a man he can be proud of. Not to mention, you had destroyed an entire palace (Godey was scattered all over the halls) to get to him when he had been sitting there begging Selune of all fucking people to alert Isobel, Dame Aylin, Shadowheart- literally anyone- that he needed to be saved. Then he threw Jergal out there as a “fuck it, let’s try it” and not even 30 minutes later- you were there. Your eyes were full of bloodlust, anger, and vengeance.

Enemies to Lovers to Friends to Enemies again. Both of you are evidently in love with one another and cannot be together because Kelemvor said “psych”. The bards in Faerun will have a field day when that information comes out.

Ever since your display of brutal vengeance, he silently begged for you to finally just be with him. The light touches, the flirty conversations, the yearning looks- just denounce Kelemvor already!

There are plenty of Gods! Jergal could be fucking hiring for all Astarion knows at this point. It’s not like the ancient God of the dead and scribes wasn’t in their camp. He gave Withers a very suspecting look when they got back to camp- the skeleton merely bowed his head in acknowledgment.

Astarion had waited for two weeks- hoping maybe you had a change of heart and just needed the time to come to peace with it.

Nope. Absolutely nothing but friendship so he went back to trying to make you jealous. He knows it’s childish. What were you supposed to do? Denounce your God? The same God that had been there for you when your mother died in your childhood? No- that was and is unfair of him. He doesn’t know what to do anymore.

Astarion just wants one last moment- a tryst even- before you have to become enemies again. His heart aches for you- he adores you and he even admires your dedication to your faith. You’re passionate about the work you do- helping families grieve, providing them assurance that their loved one is safe on the other side, and saving towns from Undead individuals who truly mean harm.

If only he had met you in a different time period- before he was a Vampire- maybe then he could have been with you without the consequences. He couldn’t live with the crushing guilt of making you turn away from your God for him. Astarion can’t ask that of you and he knows he needs to stop trying to manipulate you into it as well.

He leaves the bar and searches the street for you. Astarion is relieved you haven't gotten very far. Bhaal cultists are still on the rise and with their leader freshly dead by your hand- well, it’s safe to assume you made enemies of the cult very quickly.

On the other hand, you continue to be lost in your confusing daze of emotions. The battle against Orin is far from your mind right now and Bhaal cultists aren’t even a thought.

What do you do when the person you want is someone you can’t have because your God says no? People don’t write books or scrolls for this kind of stuff.

Do you run away? Do you let them figure out the Elderbrain on their own? Do you denounc-

No, you think sharply whilst pushing the thought out of your mind. You can’t just stop worshiping Kelemvor.

Or can you?

Your internal war has given you tunnel vision in your pursuit to find the nearest bar- so much so that you don’t see the Bhaal assassin begin his attempt at your life from the alleyway.

You wouldn’t have known you were mere seconds from dying if you hadn’t been roughly pushed to the ground, landing flat on your face.

You scramble to your feet and what you see horrified you. The Bhaal assassin is standing over Astarion- who is now well and truly dead- his throat slit to the bone and a massive wooden stake in his chest.

The scream that tears through you is animalistic- the Bhaal assassin’s eyes widen. You paralyze him and use telekinesis to fling him into the dark alley. You break his arms, his legs, his jaw- the man is gurgling out for help. You mutilate his entire body- avoiding his head. The man is barely clinging to life when you light his entire existence on fire with the Blood of Lathander. You watch as his face melts off and you relish in his fear until his eyes no longer exist.

You almost forget that Astarion is dead. Almost, but only because you refuse to believe it. You drag him into the alley behind some boxes to shield the scene from onlookers. You gently pull the wooden stake out and press on his sternum with your fist.

“Astarion,” you croak, “Astarion- my love- please wake up.”

You are in front of him and trying so hard to see if there is any possible sign of life- you are throwing all of your healing magic at him as you beg him to get up. He can’t be dead. If he’s dead you can’t resurrect him and if you can’t resurrect him…

Your head is spinning and you feel like you can’t breathe.

This is the way of life.

That is what the doctrine teaches. Astarion lived 200 years too long- this is what was always supposed to happen.

You try to walk away- several times actually, but your heart cries out every time in protest.

He’s alone- don’t leave him. He can’t be alone right now. He’s probably so scared and-, You think.

You inhale and exhale- looking at him. You had closed his eyes so that the emptiness no longer haunted you. Nothing about this rest looks peaceful. His lips are still contorted in pain.

I can bring him back- there’s no time for for our companions. Kelemvor will take his soul when the Sun has come completely over the horizon.

You peer out at the sky- the purple sky was already turning to pink. You need to make a decision now and the decision is clear to you. You dump out the contents of your smaller bag of holding and the reincarnation scroll Astarion insisted you keep after the Goblin Camp hits the ground.

You can lose your God. There are many others- maybe even one who will let you love who you want to. On the flip side, there’s only one cheeky vampire rogue that makes you happy though and you can’t let that go.

You open it- the parchment burning your hands and you can feel your power being ripped from you.

Kelemvor is quick- as soon as the incantation leaves your lips and Astarion jolts back to life- you feel all your magic leave your body.

You feel cold, but all you can do is stare at him and cry silently. He’s alive and that is worth far more than any God’s blessing.

Astarion is coughing- touching his chest and throat as he becomes reorientated to his surroundings. Then he looks at you- his eyes going wide when he sees the used Scroll of Revivify in your hands.

“You-“ he chokes on his words, he looks at you with tears in his eyes, “you brought me back.”

You nod back and your lip trembles- you want to wrap your arms around him. You want to feel him hold you back- you want to know he’s alive.

“Why?” Astarion huffs in disbelief, “Kelemvor-“

Really!? Now he cares what Kelemvor THINKS!?

“I could give a shit less what Kelemvor thinks! You- you!,” you snap and throw your arms in the air, “you prick! I want you! I chose you! If I knew you’d be ungra-“

You are pulled into his lap with lightning speed and his lips are pressed roughly against yours. You are flush against each other as if you mean to consume one another. The kiss is sloppy, needy, and full of want- you finally have to break the kiss and breathe.

When you open your eyes to look at him- you are almost rendered breathless immediately after you inhale.

The warm oranges and pinks make him look like an ethereal creature- something celestial instead of undead. Astarion’s smile is a thousand times more bewitching in this light. Astarion is your Heaven and he is your home.

“I’ve missed you,” you say heavily, “and I hate every weirdo you took to bed,” you sniff and wipe your tears on your sleeves “- not cool by the way.”

Astarion’s face is quickly swimming with guilt and he rubs soft circles into your hips with his thumbs. Stray tears are falling down his cheeks.

“I’m sorry Darling- I was being childish and I guess I thought I could… get you to be with me one last time if you were jealous enough.”

You squint at him through unamused, wet eyes and he chuckles nervously- his smile reflecting the “my bad” expression.

“You’re lucky I only had one resurrection scroll on me- otherwise I would kill you right now and bring you back again,” you say with a huff, “or maybe not. You are very beautiful.”

“Why thank you,” Astarion flashes a cheeky grin, “you could stand to mention it more, my Love.”

You roll your eyes at him and you cup his face with your hands- pulling his mouth up to yours to continue pressing soft kisses to his lips. You stay that way until your stomach growls and you flush in embarrassment.

You head back to Elfsong, hand in hand, undeath and Gods no longer keeping you apart.

“Wait,” Astarion stops abruptly and looks around, “what about the Bhaal Assassin? Did he get away?”

You chuckle awkwardly and scratch the back of your head, “I definitely didn’t fatally mutilate him and then burn him alive with the Blood of Lathander… if that’s what you are asking…”

Astarion blinks twice before he throws his head back in laughter, “how quickly did you start that endeavor?”

“Uh… maybe a second or two, give or take,” you frown, “why?”

Astarion rubs the worry from your brow with his thumb and places a chaste kiss on your lips. He smiles down at you cheekily.

“You couldn’t wait 10 seconds before being an absolute freak?”

You beam at him, “for you? Never.”

*************************************

How peculiar.

A die hard Kelemvor Cleric renouncing her faith and celebrating the rebirth of a creature with 200 more years than he was supposed to have under his belt, Withers thinks while striking Astarion’s name off the record, I have much to learn. Matters of the heart are tricky- or so it seems.

Withers had, in fact, responded to Astarion’s prayer. Hells- he answered multiple times about 28 years ago when you were brought into the world. It took a lot of generations to get to you, but it eventually happened within the last 200 years- did it not?

You and Astarion were either meant to collide in one of two ways because Astarion had prayed for two separate things on multiple occasions. One of those prayers was to let him die and the other was to be saved- to eventually be given the opportunity to have a happy life.

You would either kill him in the name of your God and eventually become Kelemvor’s Chosen or you would fall in love with each other and you would denounce Kelemvor- ultimately finding a new God in the chaos. One that doesn’t dictate your romantic relationships, but maybe is a little judgemental of them. Kelemvor and Withers left that to your own free will- Kelemvor testing you time and time again.

The future was leaning heavily towards you becoming Kelemvor’s chosen. It had surprised Withers and Kelemvor when the scales of fate had changed.

Withers watches with neutral eyes as you and Astarion sleep on Astarion’s bed- curled around each other for a post breakfast nap.

Astarion is an enigma to Withers. Vampire Spawn rarely think of others outside of the people they knew in their past. The man had approached him at camp during the early days and flat out asked him if he was Jergal. Withers declined to answer.

The boy is smart- Withers will give him that.

Both parties look content, peaceful, and happier than they had in the last several weeks. Withers returns to his list and his curious thoughts.

The girl has lost her powers- exchanging them for love and she sleeps like a babe.

How will she complete her destiny now, Withers ponders, already knowing the answer.

I could use a cleric or two again…

#baldurs gate 3 #astarion #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x you #astarion romance #astarion x tav #bg3 spoilers #karlach #bg3 #astarion x f! reader #astarion x f!tav #astarion acunin #astarion x female reader #bg3 astarion

158 notes · View notes

maegalkarven · 6 months

Text

I have the suspicion what the Cult of Murder wasn't very keen on healing/ had many healers around.

They probs had healing potions and scrolls and stuff, but do you think Durge would bother with them? Or would they, intimately familiar with the anatomy of the body, occasionally treat their own wounds with the cold precision of a surgeon?

What I have in mind is Durge casually sewing their own wounds shut with the first found rusty needle and something they deemed would suffice for a thread, Gortash seeing this horrific display and deciding enough is enough and taking the ordeal of healing this freak of an ally into his own hands.

#bg3 #the dark urge #durge #dark urge x gortash #durgetash #durge is not squeamish and they are very familiar with the way body functions #so in theory they could treat their own wounds just enough so they would die #it requires the cold detachment and not Caring that much about your own well being #but i think A cchild-weapon of Bhaal is exactly in that mindset to perform tasks like those #like why would they care if their wretched mortal bag of bones hurts or not?#is it moving? is it functions? then that's enough #i have the idea of durge not being allowed/offered any comfort/personhood #and as a result treating their own body as a tool #with the difference what they take better care of their daggers than of themselves #gortash seeing that and being like “what are you doing you stupid fucking bitch”#like at first he just needs his ally Not To Die from something dumb like infection from a blunt needle or bad care #and then he gradually starts to carw #like fr how someone care about themselves so little #a child of god no less #but the more he learns of durge the more he gets Why #and the more his affection grows the more it annoys him #wouldn't die*

49 notes · View notes

backonrepeat · 6 months

Text

Cursed fic idea that I need to share (because I'll never write it and I need you all to suffer with me): Gortash and Dark Urge arranged marriage.

Where Bhaal is very proud of his daughters' murdering prowess but would still like some grandchildren (bhaalspawn are not easy to make), and Bane is happy to offer his Chosen in exchange for being able to direct where Bhaal's cultists will strike next (and have them help further his plans, rather than ruin them)

Of course, both Durge and Gortash are less than pleased at the plan. Durge, because she's a strong independent woman who wants to keep slaughtering people and leading her father's temple, not playing house with a bloody banite, and certainly not having him tell her who she can, or cannot, kill. Gortash because the marriage is just another thing he has no control over and is instead forced upon him (he can see the value of the alliance but chaffes at being used as a bargaining chip yet again)

Featuring:

- Enemies to allies to lovers (to enemies again if we follow the game timeline)

- Instead of super kinky sex, they start their relationship with super boring, detached, and perfunctory sex because they both assume the other doesn't know how to fuck and want the whole deal over with

- Bridezilla Gortash

- Sceleritas Fel & Orin ducking it out for the Maid of Honor spot

- They start to care for each other, but are afraid to show it because their whole alliance is mandated by their Gods (plus they both have the emotional maturity of a rock), so the sex goes from boring, to nasty, to kinky with feelings

- like, they are allowed to look and touch, but they cannot feel, so they show affection in small ways, a soft touch here, a shared look there, some joint slaughter over there...

- Them being evil and domestic, like the true villain power couple they are

- Ketheric hates them and their married antics *so much*

- Durge being introduced to the Gate's patriars as Lord Gortash's wife and having to behave in public. There's a fancy ball at some point, with dancing, UST, sex and murder

(if the game plot happens, Gortash greets Durge as "my beloved wife", the whole party starts to seriously question their choice in leadership, and Karlach has an aneurysm. Astarion just loves the drama)

#baldur's gate 3 #imagine Durge waking up in the nautiloid with a marriage ring #convinced she has a husband somewhere waiting for her return #daydreaming about the forgotten love of her live #only to find out it's fucking gortash #this leads either into the world's bloodiest divorce or a tragic ending when gortash is lobotomised by the netherbrain #(or third au option where they durge defeats gortash but keeps him as a househusband)#durgetash #enver gortash #dark urge

245 notes · View notes

illegiblewords · 5 months

Text

SOME ILLEGIBLE RAMBLES AND REFLECTIONS: THE DEAD THREE

Finished my first/main playthrough of Baldur’s Gate 3, and it’s had me turning over all sorts of ideas tied to Dungeons and Dragons lore. A bunch happens to be about cosmology so I'm slapping together one post about the Dead Three and a follow-up about deities more generally. Buckle up if you decide to proceed dudes. This is chunky and opinion/interpretation heavy. CW for mention (not extensive) of graphic violence and sex crimes during discussion of Bhaal and Yeenoghu.

MYRKUL

I get that there are multiple death-affiliated deities in DnD. Our buddy Jergal is the end of all things and the original incarnation of the concept. Myrkul stands for the experience of dying, decay, necromancy, graves, bones, and the fear of mortality. Kelemvor rules over the dead. Orcus is a demon lord and quasi-deity of undeath. Could prob go on.

I've read many different incarnations of death over the years. To set the stage on my Myrkul read, it bears mentioning that Terry Pratchett's Death is probably my favorite. I don't have it in me to see death as something totally malicious. It's very natural, and I tend to imagine that if there were to be an incarnation embodying it this persona would have an intimate view of all the love and grief, vulnerability and intimacy, ugliness and solitude, etc. that mortals deal with. Death has witnessed the end every living being faces, from the dawn of creation until now. Even if it isn't consciously accessed at all moments, death is ancient and experienced and not likely to be shocked by what mortals are capable of anymore. Mortals are small. Uncountably numerous though we are we are far outnumbered by the unliving. What are lives next to planets, to stars? Here I'd argue against assigning value according to how big or small something is, how eternal or how brief, how simple or complex. Everything that is, is a universe unto itself and deserves the gravity of that. It is also very mundane at the same time. To me, death needs to be able to balance the preciousness and commonality of life, of existence, on the tip of its scythe. Death needs to be able to deal with the most depraved beings to exist, but also with every beloved pet put to sleep. Every lost child or parent. Everyone who dies surrounded by loved ones and everyone who dies alone.

Initially, even knowing Myrkul in particular had been a mortal necromancer and not of particular moral standing--I had mixed feelings about him being the evilest of evil skeletons. He worked it well, but the idea of any aspect of death (or any character tbh) being flat evil felt off to me. Especially with 'we're all the protagonists of our own stories' being at work. People don't often look at what actions they'd consider to be evil then go 'I'm going to make myself that on purpose'. Disregarding morality maybe, but being evil on purpose is weird.

So I looked into further lore about Myrkul. One spot that gave me pause was that Myrkul as death (rather than the adventurer Myrkul Bey al-Kursi he’d once been) revels in inspiring fear of death and driving home experiences of loss. From what I found he isn't focused on the name of the individual holding the office of death, but for the force itself being feared. He can be bribed, and he will allow for necromancy/resurrections--but the fear and gravity of death is a sacred thing to him. Disregarding that is a pretty good way to get onto Myrkul's shitlist. I want to take a moment to emphasize the importance of Myrkul focusing on his portfolio over his own ego. That is far from a given in the DnD pantheon, and like I said he's a former mortal himself. It wouldn't be out of the question for him to be a petty and insecure deity. He could have been the sort of guy where becoming a god of death by itself wasn't enough power. If Myrkul was a different person, he might have wanted people to stroke his ego and say how strong he is. He might have been someone who felt inadequate as a god without that affirmation. He could have (as a character) been unsatisfied and forever wanting/dependent upon the views of others to define himself. The fact that he DOES focus on death and decay as forces rather than himself is a big deal in reading him imo.

Anyway. Myrkul's emphasis on death as something feared got me thinking about what would cause a person to put such weight on death being understood in its negative aspect. It struck me that this is actually a very common and even important thing. You don't need to demonize death to see it, either. If you value life as sacred, the idea of life being treated as cheap or disposable is horrifying. When you love something dearly, the idea of that beloved thing being defaced is beyond outrage. It's a kind of sacrilege. People who kill as casually as breathing, who revel in the permanent destruction of someone else, become a source of horror. The absence of love creates a sort of cruelty that can't even perceive itself. And it's not uncommon for human beings in particular to partake in this. Humans dance on the graves of those they deem enemies not because they're relieved to be safe, but because they glory in the end of other lives. They don't recognize that anything of value was lost. There is no tragedy in death anymore. Every gentle moment, every vulnerability, every tragedy in their opponent's life is something to be crapped on and gloated over. There is no greater insult to life itself. Myrkul stands as a reminder that such behavior cannot stand. You can't treat life or death as cheap. To see something horrific and fail to realize the weight of its horror is itself a form of horror. The idea of a death that demands to be acknowledged for what it is, particularly by the living, imo actually denotes a level of care for life too. It might be harsh or ugly, but I don't know about evil. So while Myrkul is certainly flawed and often serves as an antagonist, I’d argue the function he performs is not only important but necessary.

And while it might vary between players, I found Aylin's enthusiastic executions and body defiling pretty uncomfortable. I understand she went through a lot and am fine with her as a character. But I think Myrkul's point stands if the audience feels even a moment of disquiet seeing her celebrate over the corpse of a broken person.

Some things are meant to be ugly.

BANE

Of the Dead Three I find Bane the most disturbing and dangerous tbh—but not for how Gortash invokes him. Way I see it, the other word for tyranny is authoritarianism on a macro-level, abuse on an individual level.

I’d argue that in life, we can only healthily control ourselves and our own individual actions/choices. We can try to persuade others or appeal to their judgment, but we can’t MAKE another person think or act how we wish. When folks attempt otherwise (individually or more broadly) it involves fear, force, deceit, or other forms of pressure. Coercion, enslavement. These fall under the umbrella of tyrannical practice to me. You treat another person as subhuman and strip them of agency.

We don’t live in a pure and ideal world. If a tyrannical person is committing crimes and denying others their free will through force, I wouldn’t call defense through force tyrannical as long as it wasn’t needlessly excessive. Power struggles exist. But the whole practice of using fear, force, deceit, or pressure to control another person is dangerous imo. They're to be utilized as little as possible.

In DnD I don’t think the fringe evil cults would be the ones most at risk for corruption by Bane. I don't think individuals or groups who prioritize self-indulgence would be most at risk, either. The most dangerous and frequent disciples of Bane imo would be within good alignment. This means followers of benevolent gods as well as the nations or groups that consider themselves to have righteous causes. ESPECIALLY those with chips on their shoulders.

When someone assumes they have and always will have the moral high ground, that they are incapable of committing injustice, that their end justifies whatever means, that it doesn’t count as abuse with the 'correct' target… that, to me, is where tyranny festers. The person convinced of their own moral infallibility is the one who sees no need for brakes and so cuts them without concern.

I’d argue everybody has a seed of tyranny in them that can be fed or starved. We feed that seed with our own indignation to become a tyrant victimizing others while still seeing ourselves as powerless. The person who first victimized you can still also be victimized by you. There isn’t a target that exists where finding joy in cruelty gets a pass.

Bane, I think, thrives on the idea that it's no problem if you're enforcing your will. Especially on people contemptible to you.

For DnD purposes, imagine you have zealous followers of idk Tyr. They are willing to do whatever it takes to enforce and spread their definition of justice. They believe in making examples of people at every opportunity. They torture, isolate, rob, and shame those they consider to be unjust or dangerous. If their victims are falsely accused—well. It’s for a noble purpose so the sacrifice is not in vain. And imagine Tyr abandons these followers as hypocrites. He no longer empowers clerics or paladins no matter how they cite scripture or brand ‘heretics’ with his symbols.

Bane doesn’t enter calling himself Bane, god of tyranny. Bane claims to follow a higher justice. Maybe he uses an avatar, maybe he chooses a Banite disciple, maybe he finds a true believer. But he argues that Tyr as an individual was never ultimately what those zealots stood for—it was justice itself. And if Tyr has turned traitor to his own portfolio, mortals need to go over his head to the core concept and implement that. Bane offers a name that suits his purposes and begins sourcing power to clerics and paladins instead. And throughout, as the zealots commit increased atrocities against those they deem dangerous or evil they fail to realize they’ve spiraled into evil alignment after all. They’d think they were either just as good as they’d always been OR BETTER. The compassion of Ilmater is spent on the depraved and corrupt as far as they’re concerned.

I think the real threat of Bane is that he should be 100% capable of corrupting an otherwise heroic party member if they aren’t wary of that capacity in themself. You suddenly find your friend who listened to your problems and supported you through awful shit mocking a person sobbing on the ground as they kick them. And that friend looks betrayed and hurt (or outraged) if you challenge their actions, because they think you should know exactly how disgusting this piece of shit is and how much they deserve the abuse. And even if you concede that individual case—it’s not the only one. The slights worthy of torment become smaller and smaller. A thought or word out of line betrays the ideology of an evil alignment, with the only solution being to beat thoughts and words out of the target until they can only repeat approved ideas back. And even then, it may not be enough.

If it was explicitly confirmed that the deity the zealot followed was Bane all along, the zealot might genuinely not believe it. They might get pissed at the very suggestion. What they do against the wicked isn’t tyranny after all. They’re righteous.

Denial doesn’t serve to disempower Bane in the least if tactics remain unchanged.

BHAAL

I’m holding off on more detailed Bhaal thoughts until I complete a dark urge run, but I’ve listened to lore on both him and the demon lord Yeenoghu recently—and I think there’s room for a really cool potential contrast.

Yeenoghu Lore

Providing this particular video link for the curious, as a way to help illustrate what I’m drawing from.

Yeenoghu holds the title as demon lord of slaughter. He glories in filth, rape, excessively graphic murder, torture, violence, and playing with corpses along the way. He’s meant to come across as a bestial, self-absorbed, remorseless desecrater. And when I say bestial, I want to draw attention to a particular IRL factoid that might be worth considering.

I love animals to bits. I don’t think animals generally contemplate morality the way humans do just due to cognitive differences and limitations. I also think it’s important to remember that humans are ALSO animals, so certain things umbrella’d under ‘human experience’ would probably apply to at least some animals too. If there are human altruists and human serial killers, we should be able to expect that animals likewise have some altruists and some serial killers within the scope of individual variation.

Cruelty is not exclusive to humans. Orcas will essentially torture smaller animals to death by flinging them into the air with their tails repeatedly like balls until repeated beatings and suffocation kill them. Dolphins commit rape and chew on live puffer fish to get high off the toxins. Chimpanzees are a horror unto themselves with cannibalism and mutilation and basically whatever atrocity they can commit. Wolves and cats sometimes hunt to excess just for the joy of it and don’t eat all they kill. Hannibal the swan (as a specific and notably homicidal individual) beat and drowned any other swans visiting his pond and showed his signet how to do it. I could go on. Some cases it might be a matter of the animal not having theory of mind to recognize that they are inflicting pain on another conscious creature. Other times, like with pissed off chimpanzees, they know EXACTLY what they’re doing and it’s on purpose to cause maximum suffering.

I think Yeenoghu should embody a little bit of both propensities. He’s just utterly self-absorbed and doesn’t give a fuck about the experiences or perspectives of other living things except insofar as they impact him.

Bhaal I want to research more like I said, but one thing I remember from my initial play through was finding a note from the Dark Urge to Orin.

Little sister, whatever in the Gray Wastes are we going to do with you? Bhaal will never care that you waste your time, posing your corpse-dollies. Bhaal doesn’t care whether you give him the corpse of a pauper or a king. At the end of the day, all Father wants is death in droves, death in numbers. To sap away the life of this dull world as swiftly and widely as we can. You plan, you plot, you prevaricate, and you waste his time. Bhaal doesn’t need us to think. He needs us to kill. You kill beautifully, and have talents in your shapes’ magics that I never will. But you do not understand Lord Bhaal. Perhaps it is a failing of your diluted blood, as a mere grandchild. I am his sole living pureblood. I will accept no challenge from you, until you show some damned respect.

To be honest this is interesting af to me because it positions Orin a bit more in-line with Yeenoghu’s modus operandi in some ways. But what sets apart the principles of Bhaal from Yeenoghu or Myrkul?

The Dark Urge suggests the goal of Bhaal is the extinction of all life, but to be honest I’m a bit skeptical. Seems like short term thinking. Even if Bhaal pulled that off, once it’s done there is no more murder or god of murder for that matter. If Bhaal is aiming for a cessation of existence and wants everyone else along for the ride maybe that’s what he’s after, but I dunno. That seems like something fans/players/loremasters would have touched on before.

I’d like to invite this possibility for foiling instead:

Life consumes other life by nature. Animals, plants, fungi, bacteria, so forth—it isn’t just a matter of philosophy. One life cannot exist without destroying another. We need to eat. If we don’t, we die well before reproduction enters the picture. But it’s more than that… you take a step, you kill countless tiny organisms you aren’t even aware of. You swat a fly. You hit something with your car. You move gracelessly or touch carelessly, and catastrophe ensues. Etcetera.

It is inevitable that your existence will mean the end for the life of another living thing. That’s just how it goes.

It could be interesting on a LOT of fronts (both as members of the dead three and as former adventuring companions) if Bhaal acted as a kind of philosophical opposite to Myrkul the way I previously described.

If the Dark Urge’s note is to be trusted, Bhaal has no interest in ritual or glorified death per se. Bhaal would be more about the mundanity that comes through the act of killing. Life is fragile as-is and often ended by accident. Killing in its most common form is thoughtless and unconscious. To Bhaal, if every life is a universe then the universe looks meaningless. There is no importance or fanfare to any of it. If one side is ‘everything matters, give weight to life and death’, Bhaal would be ‘nothing matters, we are not capable of affording reverence to every single life and death we encounter’. More specifically, the mass deaths Bhaal favors would be a kind of illustration of the uncaring and casual relationship living things have with killing other living things. The more casual and effortless it is, the more I’d imagine it serves Bhaal. Sadism and revelry miss the point—there is no hierarchy. Suffering is inconsequential. Fear is inconsequential. Instinct is inconsequential. To live is to kill by Bhaal’s logic.

It isn’t limited to murder in the sense of a member of one species killing a member of the same species. It’s more Bhaal is the god of killing. He’d gain power from murder too sure, but also hunting, harvesting, and butchering. With these interpretations in-mind, we can actually figure out how the Dead Three might have answered Jergal's question about what worth a mortal life holds. With the disclaimer this is very much conjecture. I think Myrkul would likely be "Each life is of infinite value and merits sacrificing everything for." That lends life a heavy weight and makes death a fearful force for all. It would also mesh with Ketheric as his chosen. Bane would lean into "That depends on a person's deeds", "The only life that matters is mine", or "Depends on the mortal". From those positions, the speaker argues for a hierarchy of life where some is more expendable than the rest. It's easier from that position to slide into adopting a role as judge and executioner, and from elevating yourself into a role of authority where other voices and experiences count less than your own. Bhaal I think is reflected in "Life’s only value is as currency. Doesn’t matter to me otherwise", "The only life that matters is mine", or "No one life is worth more than any other. We are equal." Bhaal has the implicit question in-turn: what is the blood-price of your own life? How much have you claimed in your own name to keep moving? It's kind of the belief that while "The only life that matters is mine" is Bhaal's answer, every other living thing should be answering the same way. There's more nuance than that of course, and likely truth falls somewhere in the middle. We aren't mentally capable of giving reverence to every death, but we can recognize in general terms and do our best case-by-case. We have a right to protect ourselves and what we love, but others share that right.

Feel free to offer different stances or thoughts though, and if you made it this far goddamn thank you for reading this monster.

#the dead three #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #myrkul #bhaal #bane #bg3 #bgiii #yeenoghu

151 notes · View notes

darkurgetrash · 3 months

Text

─── 𓆩♱𓆪 ───

When Gortash first formed the cult of the Absolute, he’d somehow expected it to be more glamorous than watching drunken goblins through a scrying eye.

What he’d expected even less was to see his former lover, long-presumed dead, walking among them…

─── 𓆩♱𓆪 ───

Characters: The Dark Urge / Gortash

Game: Baldur’s Gate 3

Words: 1,700

Rating: Teen+

─── 𓆩♱𓆪 ───

When Gortash first formed the cult of the Absolute, he’d somehow expected it to be more glamorous than watching drunken goblins through a scrying eye.

Indeed, in his visions he’d fantasised of insidious masquerade balls, dangerous heists, and intellectual assassinations. Alas, he supposed that tasks of observation were important too. For the plan to succeed, everyone had to be playing their part, from the highest ranking ‘True Soul’ to the lowliest gnoll, and someone had to make sure it was all going accordingly.

After all, if not him, then who? That loathsome animal Orin cared more about her pitiful attempts to please Bhaal than their grand plan, and Ketheric was much too busy ruling over Moonrise Towers to worry about the proceedings of some pathetic goblin camp, so who did that leave? He alone. Besides, he was probably the only one sharp and observant enough to notice if anything went amiss.

That was the case, at least, since Mera was taken from him.

He sighed. How annoying that, even now, performing the most mundane task possible, he still thought of her. The way she’d be sitting beside him, delicately fingering her dagger while her slender feet rested on his lap. She just loved to distract him; tease him.

“What does this button do?”

“That would shut down the Steel Watch.”

“How interesting, what would you do if I pressed it right now?”

“It’s a temporary measure. I’d simply commandeer one of the Gondians to fix it.”

“Boring. What does this one do?”

“That controls the Scrying Eye.”

“I see… Hmm, how about we do a little contest to see who can get someone murdered using it first? The chosen of Bane or Bhaal?”

“That would be hard considering we can’t communicate through it, only watch.”

“Ah, but that’s part of the challenge, dearest Enver.”

She’d strategically stroke his thigh with her foot, raising higher towards his groin in hopes that he might offer a soft moan and give in to her playful, mischievous ways. Then, of course, he’d have to put her in her place, right there on the command console. His hands clasped around her pale neck, long black hair splayed behind her as she glared daggers at him through those divine, striking red eyes…

He shook his head. Pathetic. He couldn’t allow himself to lose focus like this, not when so much was at stake. Mera was in the past, probably now dead and wreaking havoc in some corner of Avernus without a single thought for her once partner-in-crime, so why should he spare one for her? Besides, he spent too many long and lonely nights staring at his balcony, wondering if she’d suddenly appear to amuse him, love him, torment him. Even if it was to assassinate him, he’d have been glad for it, just to see her again…

She’d have been delighted to hear such a shameful admission.

Gortash turned his attention back to the screen, where a red-headed goblin now stood, waving her hand in front of the eye.

“ELLO?? Dis fin broken or wot?”

He leaned forward to reach the control panel, bumping the eye into the goblin in a childish act of irritation. She jumped back, startled.

“OI! I fink dis thing ‘as lost its marbles. Whateva, come this way and I’ll introduce you to the drow.”

The goblin turned and hobbled towards Minthara, a drow noble Orin had selected to be a spokesperson for The Absolute many moons ago. She was followed by a small party, presumably a gang of adventurers who had been infected with the tadpole. Strange though - he did not recognise any of them to be True Souls, so why were they being granted such a high ranking audience?

Intrigued, Gortash watched them as they followed the goblin. He could not see the adventurers clearly due to his positioning, but he could tell that there were four - possibly two men and two women judging by stature alone. One of the men looked to be an elf with curled white hair and daggers equipped at the hip while the other was clearly a magic user, adorning a long purple robe with a quarter staff on his back. The two women were harder to analyse - being shorter and obscured from view - but they both appeared to have dark hair. This was, unfortunately, all he could discern for now.

The goblin and the drow talked together as the four of them observed. Gortash edged the eye slightly closer.

“…This mug helped me to escape. I say we stick a few holes in her, show how grateful we are!”

The goblin seemed to be referring to one of the women, who Gortash could now see was a human with loose hair hanging around her shoulders. She seemed to be the centre of the group, maybe even their leader.

“Oh dear. Your prisoner is one of the Absolute's favourites, Sazza. A True Soul…”

Minthara’s brow raised in interest as the goblin squirmed beneath her gaze. Interesting, so they were True Souls after all… Then why did he not recognise them? Was it possible they somehow slipped the system unnoticed?

“Nah. Can't be... they woz in the grove, hangin' around with the tieflins!” The goblin replied, backing away nervously.

“Undercover, no doubt. Carrying out the Absolute's will. Oh, Sazza - you have made a grave error…”

Gortash knew that this wasn’t the case; The Absolute’s will was his own, after all. Could this be the work of Ketheric or Orin behind his back? Some kind of plan to usurp him?

“… please, no! I didn’t know!…”

It was certainly a possibility. If these True Souls had found their way to Moonrise Towers, it would have been easy for Ketheric to recruit them as sole commander. But to position them in a grove filled with tieflings - what would be the point? Could there somehow be ties to Avernus at play?

“She’s telling the truth. She didn’t know.”

A shiver shot up Gortash’ spine as he heard a voice all too familiar. He stood and moved closer to the viewing screen, but the Scrying Eye was positioned too far away to clearly identify the woman that spoke.

It was surely a trick or some coincidence, but still, the woman sounded exactly like her. Like Mera.

The mere fact that this woman spoke on behalf of a lowly goblin and saved her from a deathly fate was proof enough that this wasn’t his once-partner. Mera was as blood-thirsty and cruel as she was cunning and beautiful. Not in the way her replacement Orin was - who acted like a wild dog, murdering left and right for senseless amusement alone - but in a way that was meticulous and logical enough to match his own intellect. There would have been no point in sparing a goblin, no, his lover would have remained silent as Minthara laid out her judgement, simply observing with deliciously cold calculation.

“… silence, wretch. And remember - you owe your miserable life to this one.”

The goblin ran from the scene and towards the eye, knocking into it in her clumsy escape. Gortash exhaled through his nose in frustration as the screen fuzzed and the audio crackled - all sound now unintelligible.

“Tamia!” he called out through gritted teeth. A cultist belonging to Bane rushed into the room at his call.

“My lord?”

“Send in one of the slaves to fix this at once.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Within seconds, a Gondian shuffled into the room with their head lowered, immediately beginning to fix the scrying eye. Gortash tapped his foot impatiently.

“It is fixed m-my l-lord.”

“You are dismissed.”

The gnome left just as the screen flashed back into focus and the audio returned - but now Gortash could see only Minthara, her gaze fixed on something in the distance.

He returned to his seat and slumped in defeat and annoyance. If he should ever meet this ‘Sazza’, she would face a punishment worse than death for the damage she caused - thanks to her, he would now have to contact Minthara personally to discover what transpired between she and the adventurers.

He returned his hand to the control panel and began moving towards the drow when a light indicating ‘physical altercation’ quickly flashed. Had the eye just been… poked?

He rotated the eye towards the source and…

His heart pounded heavily in his chest and long-dried tear ducts threatened to enflame. Was he even still breathing? Was time still moving? He could scarcely tell, as the world around him seemed to turn to nothing but darkness, the scrying screen a single spotlight.

For there, standing in front of the eye with a puzzled expression, was her.

“It can’t be…”

Mera.

She waved, crossed her arms, and peered deeper into the eye as if she were looking directly at him. Could she sense him there?

“… My lord?”

Gortash snapped back to reality as the cultist cautiously approached him. He realised then that he had shot up to his feet once more, lights flickering around the control panel and small alarms sounding as his fists throbbed against the deck.

He took a deep breath and calmly removed his hands from the panel, assessing the slight damage caused by his clawed glove.

“…How I detest flies.” He hissed. “You were dismissed, Tamia. Were you not?”

He heard the cultist’s breath hitch in her chest.

“My deepest apologies, my lord. I thought you had dismissed the Gondian alone, I-“

“Excuses are a waste of breath. Leave at once. Oh, and Tamia? Have a new slave come repair this and punish the previous one that let a filthy insect into my office.”

“Y-yes, my lord.”

The cultist bowed and left. The command panel still flickered and Mera still shone from the screen, her attention now turned to the elf who was glancing at the Eye with suspicion.

Mera…

No. No, it was impossible. Mera was not infected, she was not even still with the living - if she was, she’d have gone to him. Wouldn’t she have? It… it must be a shapeshifter, another trick from Orin meant to throw him off balance. So he was right, the others were plotting to wage war with him.

How foolish they were.

As the thought grazed his mind, the so-called ghost of Mera raised an electrified hand and swiped.

Then all faded to black.

─��─ 𓆩♱𓆪 ───

95 notes · View notes

gatorbites-imagines · 7 months

Text

Kinktober day 2

Astarion Ancunin + Bloodplay

I’ve always been a huge vampire fanboy, ever since I read twilight years ago. Plus, a vampire voiced by Neil Newbon? Woof.

Reader is Dark Urge in this. Featuring some Durge headcanons, like their blood being like crack for vampires when willingly given. Not a lot of smut in this, I got kinda carried away by the relationship part.

Kinktober 2023 masterlist

Living a life without memories should have been more difficult than it was, but outside of the random urges for manslaughter, committing manslaughter in your sleep, and how desensitised you appeared to be to all types of pain and torture, it was whatever. After a while you didn’t think about it much, even as time passed and you learned more and more about your past, or how your so-called servant showed up at night to try and tempt you into killing all of your allies.

Your memories still weren’t fully back when you learned about your Bhaalspawn status, but it made sense in the long run. From the first time you had met your allies, you’d thought in detail how you wanted to kill them and bathe in their blood, devour their flesh and make ornaments out of their bones. All but one, that is. And that was none other than your ragtag team’s rogue vampire Astarion, ever since you had first met it was like there was a connection between the two of you.

When you had awoken to him one night attempting to feed off of you, you had felt no disgust, but instead a possessive want. You had grabbed him by the back of his neck and pulled him in, burrowing his handsome pale face into your neck, almost more excited about being fed on than he was to feed on you. Astarion would later tell you that your blood was the most delicious he had ever tasted, though he had very little else to compare it too, especially not another sentient living being.

That first feeding seemed to have opened the floodgates, not just in Astarion but in yourself. It was like a bloodlust that had been dormant before flashed awake, like the vampire venom coursing through your veins acted like a shot of adrenaline to your system. Astarion would never outright ask to feed from you, he was much too proud, but you could both tell you enjoyed it, maybe a bit too much for either of your sakes, but with the situation you were in neither of you seemed to care.

You never experienced the fatigue one fed on from a vampire should feel, and if Astarion had ever fed on another sentient he would have been able to tell you that he gained more strength from your blood than he would have anyone else. When learning your Bhaalspawn status, it all made sense, at least to those who knew about your kind. It became especially clear when some of Cazadors spawn tried to feed on you and immediately screamed in agony and turned into black soot. The blood of Bhaalspawn, and Bhaals most beloved child, could only be freely given, any who tried to take it by force would die a painful death.

Even after turning down Bhaals fate for you, dying and then coming back again, your blessed blood stayed. And when everything was done and over with, and most split up to continue their lives, you and Astarion stayed together. Neither of you had anywhere to return too, and you could both admit you had fallen in love. Astarion had no master, and whilst the Bhaal cult still worshipped you to some degree, you felt no need to return. The cult had been quite useful in its own way though, as its lairs had possessed different items that would allow Astarion to walk in the sun even without the tadpole.

But even as you two travelled across the lands, set on exploring and living life to the fullest, the yearning for blood was present. It was like an instinct or need that had been implanted deep in your body, as it was in Astarions in his need to feed. And at times his fangs in your neck as he gulped and your hands in his hair wasn’t enough, at times you needed to draw the life from someone’s eyes and bask in the power it gave you.

That is what lead to the situation you found yourselves in now, both covered almost head to toe in the blood of slave traders. Astarion and yourself had stumbled across a medium sized village mainly filled with refuges of different descent, and had learned how their more beautiful children kept disappearing. So, the two of you set out to hunt down these slave dealers. Normally you two would debate on going more than you did, but something had fuelled the two of you.

The children were brought back to the village, you two were paid with what little gold the town had, and you two returned to your camp even when offered housing by the villagers. Whatever room you would have been offered wouldn’t have survived the hunger you both experienced, you had barely removed the order off your body before Astarion was on you, his nails digging into the tight muscle of your chest as he lunged for your neck.

It wasn’t a bite just for hunger, not in the sense of which he normally fed from you for strength, but a hunger for something deeper. Your hand wove through his pale locks and pulled, drawing an almost snarled groan from him as he panted out his nose, dislodging his fangs from one spot to bite another. The blood of a god still flowed through you even after being disowned, so the puncture wounds shut on their own.

After the life Astarion had lived, he had never been much for intercourse after being free, but you two found a deeper connection this way. Your vampire felt no need to get off, but it didn’t stop his hands from sneaking under your belt to start touching and pulling, his nimble fingers playing you like a fine instrument as you lapped at the muscle and veins of your neck.

Orgasm like this was euphoric, you felt alive in ways you couldn’t remember ever feeling, even in your many years as a cult leader. And for Astarion your trust in him lit a fire inside him, making him feel freer and more in charge of himself than he had been for 200 years. Times like this could draw on for hours, your godly blood replenishing with ease no matter how much your lover drank from you, your cock filling up under his actions as he drove you to pleasure and far into oversensitivity again and again.

It always ended with you two having to stumble your way to the nearest river and clean yourselves, even as your legs felt numb and the glow in Astarions skin made you want to jump him again. As you laid down in your shared tent, you always swore your undead lover felt warm to the touch. Maybe it was the large amounts of blood he had consumed, but he always seemed to sleep better on nights like this as he laid on your left side, his ear pressed against your chest to listen to your heart as it pumped. You didn’t miss being a cult leader, you didn’t miss Bhaal, not one bit. And laying here with Astarion made you glad you had given it all up.

312 notes · View notes