#githyanki hatchling

[deletarius1893]

~ Spoiler Warning for fellow Lae'Zelmancers! 🤫 ~

So I recently reloaded my first iteration of Solus' (my tav's) playthrough to get a secret Lae'Zel ending after obtaining the Githyanki Hatchling during our visit to the Githyanki Creche. I personally kept the Githyanki egg and stored it in the camp inventory and pretty much left it there throughout the rest of the game, this I believe was before the recent patches. I found out after reading an article that there is an ending if you kept the Githyanki egg and left it in Lae'Zel's care, in her inventory. Then, come the end game reunion, your Tav and Lae'Zel have a lil hatchling named "Xan". Same thing goes for those who didn't romance Lae'Zel, the option to ask her about the hatchling is an option I think. Just thought I'd share this wholesome addition to one of the game's many endings.

You have my Love and Thanks Larian Studios. 💚💙☺️

(Also, much appreciated if you read this far...means a lot).

#bg3 lae’zel #bg3 gith #bg3 tav #baldur’s gate 3 #larian studios #thank you larian #bg3 spoilers #bg3 #lae'zel bg3 #bg3 xan #baldur's gate 3 xan #githyanki #githyanki creche #githyanki hatchling #gith #baldur's gate 3 spoilers #baldur's gate 3 tav #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate oc #bg3 oc #bg3 high elf #bg3 fanart #lae'zel #bg3 lae'zel #Lae'Zelmancer #bg3 screenshots #baldur's gate 3 screenshots

[kirain]

Tav: Oh my gods ... it's happening. It's happening! Everyone, come quick!

Astarion: What the hells are you shouting about? It's barely four o'clock in the bloody morning. I know you don't get it, but I prefer to rise when the sun does.

Tav: It's the egg! It's hatching!

Shadowheart: The one you got from the githyanki crèche? You mean you still have it?

Tav: Of course! You didn't really think I'd give it to that crazy baby-snatcher, did you?

Gale: Shh, shh! Everyone, calm yourselves and be silent. I may not look it, but I know quite a bit about child-rearing. I read many books on the subject when I was Mystra's Chosen, and as I understand it, newborns require low, serene noises when they're brought into the world. Anything too stentorian could overwhelm the poor babe.

Lae'zel: That is perhaps the case for you pitiful, soft, fragile humans, but githyanki offspring are born with an innate sense of—

Tav: Quiet! It's hatching!

Narrator: The egg stirs and shakes, then cracks as the inhabitant kicks at its confines. After a few moments of struggle, the shell breaks, pieces of green and yellow debris sliding off the newborn's slender frame. Free at last, it looks up at you, is eyes narrow but full of wonder, then mews like a kitten looking for its mother.

Karlach: Ohhh-ho-ho-ho-hooo my gods! It's so cute! Look at its little feet and droopy ears! And look that that: born with a full set of tiny chompers! I want to squeeze it and never let go!

Lae'zel: Githyanki offspring are not "cute"...

Astarion: That's for damn sure. It looked like a jaundiced monkey.

Wyll: Heheh. Well, it's certainly something. It's ... well, I'm not actually sure. What is it, exactly?

Lae'zel: A soldier.

Wyll: I meant the sex.

Lae'zel: Oh. A boy.

Wyll: Welcome to the world, little man! We're going to have so much fun. I'll teach you how to use a blade and defend the innocent and—!

Shadowheart: Hold that thought, why don't you? You're getting way ahead of yourself. This is a tremendous responsibility. What do we even do? Lae'zel?

Lae'zel: What? Why are you looking at me?

Shadowheart: Because out of everyone here, I would assume a githyanki knows best how to raise a githyanki child.

Lae'zel: I know nothing of raising hatchlings. It's not my place.

Shadowheart: Lady Shar protect us ... and this child.

Tav: Don't be so defeatist. We'll be fine!

Gale: Absolutely. How hard can it be? An infant is an infant. He's probably hungry, so let's tackle that problem first. Come here, little one!

Lae'zel: I wouldn't—

Narrator: Gale reaches down and scoops the young hatchling into his arms. At first the creature seems confused, pensive even. Then, its pupils shrink, its teeth clenching. It growls like a caged animal and claws at the wizard's face. Luckily for him, it misses, but the battle is far from over. In a rage, the creature twists its body, then sinks its teeth into Gale's hand, latching onto it in a fit of fury.

Gale: Ow, ow, ow! Aaaugh!

Lae'zel: Typical.

Narrator: Gale attempts to shake the vicious newborn off, waving his arm up and down like a madman, but to no avail. The creature holds steadfast, almost mockingly.

Gale: A hand would be very much appreciated!

Karlach: Ask the babe. He already has an extra one.

Everyone: *Laughs*

Astarion: Well ... I wasn't too keen on the idea at first, but perhaps keeping the creepy little morsel around isn't such a bad idea after all.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #tav #bg3 tav #astarion #gale of waterdeep #lae'zel #shadowheart #wyll ravengard #karlach #githyanki

[wanderingnork]

I keep reminding myself that not everyone has read every possible githyanki/githzerai related source going back to the Advanced Dungeons & Dragons Fiend Folio. Not everyone has this level of Special Interest. Not everyone is actively trying to track down good hard copies of most of these books. Nor is anyone obligated to do so.

So here you go: I'm going to explain why "githzerai good/githyanki evil" is completely reductive, not in line with the lore, and would be ridiculous to add to BG3.

The githzerai are far, far, FAR from saints, and including them in BG3 would just muddy the waters further. They aren't just running around being the good to the githyanki's evil. And never have been. They've been chaotic neutral since the Fiend Folio, and they did not become Chaotic Good in the years since. In fact, I'd make the argument that, based on their canonical behavior right up to the present, "chaotic evil" would be an appropriate alignment.

Back in second-edition D&D, in the Planescape Book of Chaos, there's an entire section on a credible rumor that the githzerai are working on a ritual that will allow them to pull githyanki out of the Astral Plane into their city so they can "punish them for their evil." (Page 76, if you're curious.) Dragon magazine #306 (an official source), there's an article entitled "Killing Cousins." It details the gith-attala, or...cousin hunters, githzerai who specialize in hunting down and killing githyanki. They go after githyanki anywhere, but in particular strongholds on the Material Plane. As of Mordenkainen's Tome of Foes (again, official source), it's explicitly stated on page 305 that the githzerai are "always on the lookout for githyanki plots to foil and creches to exterminate."

If we encountered githzerai in BG3, the most likely place to do so would be outside the creche, planning an attack that would have targeted eggs, hatchlings, and children.

The githyanki aren't coming from a place of moral good. But neither are the githzerai. Simplifying it down to good vs evil does the entire story of the species a disservice.

#nork rants #githyanki #githzerai #fight me i have the books to back it up #and this is without getting into the whole #'the githyanki want to conquer everything' #no that's the gul'othran who haven't been seen since 4e #the githyanki treat the various worlds as ~gardens~ #for plunder not conquest #again see mordenkainen for the present state of affairs #and for the gul'othran #that's d+d 4th edition secrets of the astral sea p 97

[mylordshesacactus]

“I…have known nothing in my life but battle.” The words are stilted, brusque; it is her way. “All my knowledge of…children…is of constant testing, unending bloodshed. I do not know what a healthy creche looks like. I do not know what a healthy githyanki childhood looks like. That knowledge has been stolen from us. I do not—” She grits her teeth. “I dislike embarking on such an important mission with no information. Too much is at stake.” Tearing such vulnerability from between her ribs has never come naturally. But watching the still-wet hatchling examine its own toes, watching her lover brush eggshell from its arms, against her will Lae’zel softens. They have been through too much together not to respond such. Back-to-back, as ever, there is surely no challenge so great that they cannot— “Well, don’t look at me,” says Shadowheart. “I was raised in a cult, remember?”

Or: Shadowheart, Lae'zel, a red dragon who's pretty sure he's still evil, and that githyanki egg I KNOW y'all did NOT hand over to the Society of Brilliance weirdos, forming an utterly goddamn bizarre kind of domestic bliss in the middle of the Githyanki Revolution.

#lae'zel #shadowheart #bg3 fic #lae'zel/shadowheart

[persephoneggsy]

I’m obsessed with Lae’zel x Gale and I recently found out you can give the githyanki egg to Lae’zel and she raises it as her own so

The hatchling, that Lae’zel names Xan, grows up with a very supportive family. His mom and dad raise him to make his own decisions and be his own man. Inspired by his mother’s battle prowess and his father’s magical aptitude, Xan becomes an Eldritch Knight with a few dips into Evocation Wizard, and he becomes a famous adventurer in his own right.

Though of course, he’s not as famous as “Xan”, the mysterious adventurer who helped his parents (and aunts and uncles) defeat the Absolute years ago, and the man for whom Xan is named. But Xan has never known him, for he disappeared shortly after the Absolute threat was defeated. All he knows is that he was a githyanki, and skilled with magic and blade in equal measure. And Gale has mentioned that “Xan the Elder” resembles him; if he hadn’t seen Lae’zel take his egg with his own eyes, he’d almost have suspected he was Xan-the-Younger’s true father.

All of this occurs to Xan-the-Younger in startling clarity when he is on an adventure and suddenly thrust back in time. He wakes up on a mind flayer ship, just like the one Uncle Wyll always described in his retellings of their old group’s adventures.

And then… he meets his mother. Several years younger and pointing a blade in his face.

Xan-the-Younger realizes he was Xan-the-Elder all along. Now he must save Faerun from the Absolute — an ordeal that, even with foreknowledge, is a difficult task (his family didn’t share EVERY detail, and even so, his memory isn't perfect and he’s forgotten a few things).

He also needs to make sure his mother grabs his egg from the crèche, while also ensuring that she turns against Vlaakith and frees Orpheus, AND that his father doesn’t blow himself up or try to ascend to godhood.

And it would be nice if he could also ensure they end up together. It’s frankly quite uncomfortable that they’ve both flirted with him.

#baldur's gate 3 #gale x lae’zel #gale'zel #this has been sitting in my drafts for a week lol #lae'zel starts talking about his sweat and he just panics like “HAHA WOULDNT YOU RATHER SMELL DA- I MEAN GALE INSTEAD?? HAHA BYE” #don't know when i'll get around to playing him but /shrug #xan bg3

[des-no9]

going through the datamined dialogues of the epilogue is turning up so many !!! things but also that either:

inconsistency OR

the githyanki have decided to change the meaning of she'lak to something more honouring for us??? interesting idk idk

Man this is. My gith linguistics brain is WHIRRING

Also apparently the name of the hatchling from the egg is Xan which means 'freedom'

but I have no idea how that means freedom and also 'T'lak'ma Ghir' means 'sister in freedom' too so much to think about, research and unpack god I'm just buzzin.

Also I adore how if Orpheus is dead, Lae'zel becomes the beacon and Comet for her people URGH

#bg3 spoilers #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #lae'zel #githyanki #githzerai #amazing i can tag that now BRRRRRR #des plays bg3 #me githies #!!!!!!! #gith linguistics #gith language

[abyssalaerlocke]

Durgetash Mistaken Parents

So, I like the idea of Gortash seeing githyanki Durge with the githyanki hatchling and mistakenly thinking it's their baby. And I kind of like Durge meeting Gortash, who has a kid they don't remember — but I prefer them to not actually be the bio parents, and it's once again a mistake.

And I kind of want a situation where they're both under the false impression they have a kid together. I don't actually want them to be parents, ultimately; it's just a brief, terrible idea before someone better adopts the kid.

So, what about — some time after Durge is gone, Orin delivers Gortash an egg. She can't kill his flesh, but she can twist the knife in his heart. In truth, she stole it from the crèche while in the area checking on Durge, because it seemed like a fun idea.

So Durge shows up in Wyrm's Rock, and finds Gortash with this githyanki baby. He doesn't know what he's doing, but he's trying, and decided he's gonna give their kid the world. And he believes and 'informs' Durge that it's theirs.

And I don't know, maybe Durge helps them come to an agreement Karlach would be a good parent to them, and convinces Gortash to fix her engine so she can do that.

#dark urge #enver gortash #dark urge x gortash #karlach #accidental baby acquisition #githyanki egg #githyanki durge #adoption

[eye-of-yelough]

there was a post i saw ages ago saying that since there are underwater communities, and durge is supposed to kill everyone Ever, then durge being able to breathe underwater is entirely plausible. likely, even.

anyway. githyanki seamonster Aeryn wins again.

uhh this got a little long and it’s also. horrible. so. oc lore dump ramble including what i can only describe as trans horror and gortash being his usual awful sadistic scientist self below. 👇

i think bhaal may have used githyanki as a base for aeryn for the psionic abilities and all that, but ultimately built him with the plan of him mothering (eugh) a whole new race of monstrous amphibious bhaalspawn (Pure bhaalspawn because asexual reproduction) i don’t think aeryn was ever actually intended to take over and wreak ruin, but to birth the children that will. which makes me sick to my stomach.

i think this works better with aeryn’s personality being the way it is, yknow, “kind”, “compassionate”, all that. nurturing. of course, nothing went to plan. Bhaal wanted to wait until Aeryn hit 30 to start. yknow. sending him eggs. and by that point Gortash was already in the picture, already had his hooks in him. egg thievery ensues. gort does a lotta weird shit to them i can tell you that much. eats some, sure, but mostly experimentation. noting how many are duds, seeing how susceptible they are to genetic manipulation, hypothesising on a way to force them into stasis without access to the Astral Plane, so they could all hatch at the same time when we wishes, (illithid tadpole prototype)

a few years down the line, he let’s one live, in the most perfect conditions he can make, to see how long it takes to hatch. and in a moment of sadism mercy, decides to let it live for a while, the cute little runt. he’d always wondered what aeryn looked like as a hatchling. bathes it, wraps it up, and takes it to the balcony. shows it the rising sun, his city. keeps it around for a few days, maybe weeks, tracking its progress, running tests, snipping its vocal cords so it stops crying, until Aeryn’s next visit. introduces him to his baby he didn’t even know he had, and tells him about his grand plans, how they can raise it as their own, raise them all as their own, their perfect killer offspring army. forces him to hold it, and smiles as he kills it to save it from that fate.

and then he cooks it and serves it to him for breakfast the next morning :)

#i love you feminine horror i love you transgender body horror i love you transgender PSYCHOLOGICAL horror. i love you misgendering #i love you forced found family horror <3 i love you psychosexual torment i love you gort getting off to aeryn’s distress #your daily dose of idiocy #oc aeryn #aeryn and gortash #gortash #bg3 #githyanki durge

[moonlightrei]

Cloud of Daggers Chapter 2 - Burning

Chapter 2 is out now - click here to read on AO3!

Relationship: Astarion/Tav (or reader) Tags: Angst, Pining, Post-Canon, Aberrant Mind Sorcerer Tav, minor shadowzel, others to be added Word count: 4.3k

Burning. Your skin was ablaze, the heat licking into every inch of your body, mind and soul. Your blood fizzed, boiling and bubbling, ready to burst out of your veins. You cried out, a raspy, disembodied scream, but it wasn’t your voice. The flames roared in response, your skin melting and twisting until all that remained was ash and crumbled bone.  

You awoke, immediately feeling how your sweat had drenched the bedsheets around you. Another night terror.  

The scorching light that poured through your window told you that you had risen late; Lae’zel would be arriving soon. It seemed the sleeping potion had worked, though you cursed that it didn’t protect you from your violent dreams.  

You stretched your arms out in front of you to shake the sleep from them, half expecting to find them covered in burns and blisters, vile reminders of the torment that had felt so real.  

Dressing quickly, you donned your elven chain and turned to the mirror. The familiar weight was comforting, your body not yet having grown used to a life without the need for armour. The road to the grove was not particularly dangerous, but it was long enough for something to go wrong, and you had learned better than to undertake such a journey with careless planning.  

Three solid raps alerted you to the presence at your door. You grabbed the doorknob and twisted, opening the way to reveal your githyanki friend.  

“No lock?” she mused. “I could have entered and gut you in your sleep. You have grown sloppy.” She smiled, betraying the lack of malice in her words. “Your head would make a fine addition to my collection of battle trophies.”  

“And Shadowheart would have hunted you down and clobbered you,” you said, grabbing your pack and untying the thread which sealed it to complete a final check that you had packed all you would require.  

“I’d like to see her try.” Lae’zel crossed her arms and leant against the wooden doorframe. “She is formidable in battle, but besting me?” She grinned at the idea, baring her teeth. “That is a farce.”  

Satisfied with your inventory, you glanced around your room one final time. Your eyes settled on the drawing of you and Astarion. You rolled it up and slid it into your pack, pulling the thread and tying a tight knot. You were taking it with you to keep Mae and her mother in your prayers, you told yourself, refusing to admit that there could be any other reason.  

The sun beat down on you as you traversed the city, shelter from the hot rays only being provided by the dark shadow that fell over you and your companion as you passed the Szarr palace, its imposing form blotting out all light to the streets below. You yearned to burst into the building and save Astarion from the wretched place as he had wished so desperately for over the last two centuries, only now you knew he would not see you as a saviour.  

“Where’s the egg?” You piped up, searching for a swift distraction. Lae’zel raised an eyebrow at the sudden, utterly unprompted and seemingly random question. “It must be somewhere safe whilst we’re away, I mean,” you stumbled, quickening your pace to get out of the city as rapidly as possible.  

“It’s in safe hands,” she assured you. “Shadowheart has been caring for it. She would make a fine mother, I expect.” Her voice softened a little. “She could heal the hatchling and I could show them the way of battle.” The wistful words tugged the corners of your mouth upward.  

“ Tsk'va , what is this pounding in my chest? It is as if I am in the heat of the fray.”  

“Yet the one you want to conquer is a certain cleric?” you prodded, noting the pink that bled into Lae’zel’s cheeks.  

“Chk.” She increased her pace further, her heavy boots clunking on the ground with purpose.   

A flaming fist stationed at Basilisk gate gave a curt nod as you passed, the sound of Rion training new recruits ringing out from the barracks. The bridge to Rivington was lowered, as was its usual position now. You hurried through the town, stopping only at the crinkle of paper under your feet.  

You peered down at the faded green and red of a poster advertising the Circus of the Last Days. Kicking it away, you cursed that Dryad and her honeyed lies. How ridiculous it was that your heart had fluttered as she gushed about your deep bond and your future together. How you had stared, utterly enamoured, at Astarion, at the delicate curls of his pale hair around his ears, his fanged grin at the answers you gave. He had been so alive, witty and hopeful. Your skin craved the incongruent sunshine he had emitted, a light you would stand in until it burned you to cinders if that was the price of experiencing it once more.  

“Now is not the time to be snivelling over that loathly clown,” chided Lae’zel. It mattered not if she thought you were mourning the loss of Dribbles or if she knew you well enough by now to see right through you, her words were sage. Wallowing would change nothing.  

Your small party continued on its way, covering ground efficiently. The surface of the earth beneath you crumbled slightly with each step, the dirt thoroughly dried out from the beating sun. Mercifully, no breeze threatened to carry dust into your eyes, an irritation you were glad to avoid.   

Lush greenery surrounded the well-trodden paths as the city was a speck in the distance. The once shadow-cursed lands, still practically abandoned, had been overcome with flourishing vegetation, a fine replacement for the vile blackened tendrils that had previously grown there.  

Perhaps once Baldur’s Gate was fixed up, you would set your sights on this place, you mused. The newly fertile land could support a vibrant community of people. You imagined a thriving society, tight-knit and kind. Bustling, but not noisy like the city. A place without the ostentatious commemorations of your achievements, without that dreadful palace looming above.   

A quaint little house of stone brick, a solid oak door adorned with a heavy brass knocker for your loved ones to use when they visited you. Flowers strung from the ceiling with twine to dry out for potions and decoration, a toasty fire to cast a warm glow throughout your abode and a soft bed, your love reclined upon it, just as he was the last time you travelled through here, gazing at you with adoration etched across his face. The fire would crackle as you undressed and joined him, the flames’ flickering reflected in his eyes as you inched towards him, warm skin against his cool pallor. A content sigh would escape you as your lips touched, a gentle graze giving way to something more urgent, his hands coming to rest at your waist, pulling you ever closer.  

You almost walked straight into Lae’zel’s back, wrapped up in imagination as you were. She had come to an abrupt halt, holding one finger in the air in a wordless instruction to be still and silent. Muscles tensed and you strained your ears to hear something, anything, searching for a sign of what had roused your travelling companion.  

She unsheathed her silver sword soundlessly, assuming her battle stance and taking careful, calculated steps. The familiar simmering of magic fizzed at your fingertips, ready to rupture from you at a moment’s notice.   

“Fer Maglubiyet!” The screech rang out through the hush, and a pack of goblins poured into view, charging with axes and scimitars raised high, faces warped into dangerous snarls.  

“ Ignis !” you yelled, your heart thumping in your chest as adrenaline coursed through you. Flames erupted from your fingers and your target screamed and crashed to the ground, convulsing, his burning flesh pungent.  

Lae’zel swung her sword with a cry, cutting effortlessly through the air and into multiple enemies, dispatching of them swiftly. She sliced through another, bringing her elbow back sharply to stun a goblin that dared attempt to race past her, his black eyes fixed on you.  

Few foes remained, the death rattles of those already felled the music to which the others danced, trying in vain to strike Lae’zel, leaving her with nothing more than slight bruises beneath her heavy armour. Your breaths steadied as you resolved that there was little hazard present and cantrips would continue to suffice.  

A frenzied dagger sailed from a goblin’s claws seconds before his foul hand was cut from his body, the appendage landing in the dirt with a sickening thud as the cruel blade buried itself in your shin.  

A pained yelp escaped you, greater flames exploding from you in retaliation, your judgement momentarily clouded by the sting of cold metal in flesh. “ Ardē !”  

The ball of fire impacted with a roar, the blazing inferno desecrating all in its path, sparing Lae’zel only as she leapt from its trajectory. You panted, your head beginning to spin. A heavy thump alerted you to the fact that your knees had buckled, and you placed your palms in the dust to steady yourself. Lae’zel was at your side in a flash, yanking the dagger out and holding your leg still as you reflexively went to scramble away.  

She grabbed one of your hands and thrust it to the wound, ordering you to keep it there whilst she slung her pack from her back and opened it, extracting bandages and her waterskin. She pulled the cork from her bottle and removed your hand, pouring some fluid over the wound to rid it of the dirt you had pressed into it before wrapping a ligature tightly around your leg.   

“Your pack,” she prompted. You shakily removed the bag and handed it to her. Its stopper discarded, she held a potion of healing up to your lips. The liquid slipped down your throat with ease, instantly comforting as a warmth spread through your body, alleviating the pain.  

“We’ll rest here for a moment,” Lae’zel said, picking through the goblins to see if they had anything of use. You repacked the items that she had hastily pulled from your bag, shaking the filth off of the precious paper you carried and tucking it safely away.   

You unwrapped a portion of your rations and began to eat, dried meat preserved in salt quelling the hunger that had blossomed once you’d calmed from your altercation. Satisfied with her inspection of the corpses, Lae’zel joined you.  

“Their rallying cry was to Maglubiyet,” you said idly. “Almost nice, hearing them praise their own god.” You swallowed the last bite of your food, rolling up the wrapping and putting it away. “The Absolute is truly gone.”  

“Have you suffered a knock to the head?” queried Lae’zel. “The Absolute was no more from the moment we destroyed it. A most valiant victory.” You chuckled.  

“I do miss travelling with you, you know?”  

“Of course you do,” the warrior nodded. “I am a formidable ally.” She smiled. “Or did you mean my famous charm?”   

“All of it,” you replied, heaving yourself up and gingerly testing your leg. “You seem to have me well on the way to healed, too. Perhaps you don’t need Shadowheart’s aid when the egg hatches, or was there possibly another reason you seek her out?”  

“Don’t make me regret helping you,” she said with narrowed eyes, though the absence of malevolence was again quickly betrayed as she picked up not just her pack but yours too, swinging both onto her back as to not burden you. “Come, there is only so much daylight remaining.” You scurried to follow as she marched away.   

“ Lae’zel -” you sang, elongating the sounds of her name. “I’ll just keep on pestering you, you know how stubborn I can be.” She continued staring straight ahead, taking such broad strides that you had to skip to keep up. “So, do you think you love her?”  

“Argh, k'chakhi ! Cease your babbling.” The tips of her ears had reddened.   

“Come now, Lae’zel, that’s no way to speak to your dear friend,” you lilted. “Especially one in such an infirmed state as I.” You held the back of your hand to your forehead dramatically. “Surely, I may be close to the brink of death, and to think that I would pass on with our last interaction being so-”  

“Fine,” she growled, cutting you off abruptly as she had reached her limit of your incessant prattling. “The half elf makes my chest tighten, my body hunger only for her. When I turned from Vlaakith I vowed I’d never bow to a deity again.” She stopped walking and turned to make eye contact, her voice hushing to little more than a whisper. “But she would be my new goddess, if only she would accept my worship.” She looked to the ground for a second, then continued on her way.  

“I would devote myself entirely to her, kneel at her feet and offer her my blade. I am free from the lich queen, free to be my own being, yet I yearn to serve her. I had thought this pebble you call Toril to be bland and accommodate no end of displeasing creatures.” She sighed. “That is still true to an extent, but Shadowheart is beautiful. She is the astral sea, glowing and threaded with silver. She is the first blood spilled in battle, the striking crimson and pulse-quickening scent. I read every vital tir’su text during my education in Crèche K'liir , and none described anything as resplendent as her. Nor did they make any mention of this feeling. I have never met a gith who knew of this love you speak of. Yet, I cannot be the only githyanki to experience this obsession. This fluttering of the stomach, occupation of the mind.” She shook her head. “Perhaps I was never meant for Vlaakith’s vision of my people.”  

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” you challenged.  

“Chk. You know as well as I that these matters of the heart can be a weakness, a dagger in your side. A tragic pair we are.”  

The sun hung heavy in the sky as you neared the Risen Road.  

“You grow weary. Let us make camp,” said Lae’zel. She set down the bags and began gathering kindling as you arranged some rocks to contain the campfire. She stacked the wood then sat back for you to light the fire with a cantrip.  

You untied your bandage and cleaned your wound again, inspecting it carefully. The healing potion had knitted the flesh together, leaving only a slight raw slash where the knife had entered – with rest you were certain it would heal nicely.  

The streaks of colour drained from the sky and stars glimmered up above. It had been too long since you had sat under them. You ate your fill then lay back on your bedroll.  

With your gaze and your mind focused only on the stars, you considered if Shadowheart might have been correct. Perhaps sleeping under the night sky once more was what you needed to truly rest. You felt calm. Detached.  

You were roused suddenly from your serenity as Lae’zel shot up, her eyes fixed on something in the darkness that you couldn’t quite make out. Your pulse quickened as she retrieved a small blade and approached her target, your fingertips buzzing anew.  

She knelt to the ground, and you felt your brow furrow in confusion. The sound of easy slicing through a stem reached your pointed ears and she returned, holding a night orchid.  

“A most bewitching bloom,” she mused.   

“For Shadowheart?” you asked, already knowing the answer. Lae’zel nodded.  

“I shall have one of the druids see to it that it survives our journey back.”  

The tender gesture made you smile, though as you relaxed once more you couldn’t help but wonder which plant Astarion might enjoy as a gift. You remembered well the warm scent of bergamot that clung to him, how it had embraced you on a bitter night after he had seen you shivering and insisted you layer up with his shirt, the citrus intertwining with your own scent to create a shared fragrance that felt like home. How you yearned to envelope yourself in that aroma, to bury yourself in that coupling and shut the complications of your relationship out, to bask only in the mixture of your essences on the most rudimentary physical level. You would drown yourself in it, let it fill your lungs until they burst, if only it would bring a moment of feeling as you did then, so close to him and so loved.  

Imagining yourself choking on that sweet poison was hardly a lullaby. You swigged your half dose of sleeping potion and settled down, briefly envisioning that the sensation of being wrapped in warmth was because your beloved was there, rather than just the magic taking hold.  

Birdsong awoke you, the tuneful twittering a welcome reprieve from the horrors that met you when you slept. Lae’zel was already up, packing away her bedroll. You followed suit and shared rations before setting off again.   

The familiar sight of the grove edged into view, the rampart covered in vines as it always had been, but lacking the addition of tieflings upon it as had been the case when you first came across the dwelling.  

As the two of you approached the entrance, the great wooden door rose to allow you in. Kagha met you a little way up the path, placing her arm against her chest as she greeted you.  

“Silvanus keep you, child. What brings you back to us?” Her abandonment of the shadow druids and renewed devotion to true druidic ideals appeared to have been maintained.   

“Is Halsin around?” The last you had heard he had elected to go back to the grove to complete some business there before setting his sights on the land that Thaniel kept.  

“Master Halsin busies himself at the site of the nautiloid crash, working on returning the area to its natural state. You are more than welcome to remain here until he returns for the day.”  

“Thank you,” you replied. “I think we will go out to meet him. There’s a place nearby that I’d like to visit whilst I’m here.”  

Kagha bowed her head in acknowledgement, the loose sections of her auburn hair swinging with her movement.  

You headed south with purpose, making a beeline for the dilapidated temple you had explored long ago with uneasy new allies by your side.   

Hinges wailed as you pushed the ancient door ajar, a thick layer of dust swirling up into the stagnant air as your boots disturbed it. You cast a light spell on Lae’zel’s armour so she could see, and paced gingerly though the crypt, careful not to set off any traps you may not have disarmed previously.  

The sarcophagus stood exactly as before, cold and imposing. You brushed your fingertips over the edge of the smooth stone, and it jolted, making you jump slightly despite your expectance that it would happen. You took a step back, making room for the familiar undead that lifted from the tomb, hovering momentarily before meeting the ground.  

“And so thou returneth, as he vowed thou would.” Withers stared at you, his gaze boring through your soul despite his never changing expression.  

“Withers,” you greeted him with a smile. “it’s been too long.”  

He said nothing, continuing only to look at you expectantly. You shifted nervously, flicking your eyes to Lae’zel as you tried to put together the words you sought to speak.  

“The last time I felt lost beyond recognition you put me on the right path. Any advice for an old friend?”  

“Thy path was thy own,” he uttered. “Thy wheel of fate spins still, I can do little to change its course.”   

“Still, any words of wisdom?”   

Withers considered your request steadily.  

“Very well. I asked thee a question before and so I ask thee again.” His voice reverberated through your chest. “What use dost an empty vessel possess?” Your blood ran cold. “He hast eschewed becoming illithid, that may be, yet so it comes to pass that he hast not escaped the fate of a soulless being.”   

You stood in silence, turning over his words in your head as your stomach flipped in time.   

“Thou knowest of whom I speak,” he asserted. “And on this occasion, cleaving soul to body is beyond my abilities.”  

“Astarion,” you whispered. Withers bowed his head in affirmation.   

“And thou,” he turned to Lae’zel. “Thou seek thy bosom-companion, yet walkest alone.”  

“You are wrong, skeleton,” she spat. “Presently, I seek a blade to hold to your throat.”  

Withers looked almost amused.  

“Come, Lae’zel,” you said dejectedly. “Let us be on our way to Halsin.”   

“Friends,” Withers’ voice echoed as you took your leave. “There shall be a time yet when thou will hast need for my services. I shall remain here until such time comes to pass.”  

You swept away the tear that had spilled from one of your eyes, dampening the back of your hand.   

“Until then,” you croaked.  

Daylight blinded you as you exited the mausoleum, the heat of the outside world a welcome return from the chill of the undercroft.  

A breeze carried the stench of rot. The festering remains of the nautiloid lay sprawled over the surrounding area, a blight on the wilderness.  

Approaching the vile carcass, you spotted a tall elf, magic bursting from his hands to purify the purple flesh. Halsin.  

Hearing your footsteps, he glanced over his shoulder.  

“My friends,” he exclaimed. “One moment, please.” Satisfied with his cleansing of the section he was working on, he flattened his palms above the tissue. The earth beneath the tentacles raised and roiled, blending the materials together. He raised his arms to the sky and plants erupted from the ground in reflection. The bright swirl of magic popped up throughout the landscape, a sign that Halsin was not alone in his mission.  

“The source of decay becomes a compost to feed the earth. The worms will have their fill.” He faced you and your companion. “Though forgive me, friends, if talk of worms is still of discomfort to you. It brings me great pleasure to see your faces again.”  

“It seems the wilderness will be better off without the remains of our hardship here. You are doing fine work.” You clasped the elf’s outstretched hand in salutation.  

“I am one of many,” he replied. “Now tell me, what brought you here?”  

You told him of Senta and Mae, and of the countless hungry mouths in the city that needed a druid’s touch for abundant produce.  

“If you require the services of a member of the grove, it is Francesca you need to talk to; I am first druid no more. However, I would be more than willing to undertake this task, if you’ll have me. With Francesca’s sound leadership, I am not needed here.”  

“Are you certain?” you asked. “You weren’t overly keen on the city.”  

“The city may give me a headache, but the heartache of allowing the needy to starve would be much more of a burden to bear. Let us make haste.”  

He accompanied you back to the grove and gathered his belongings, informing a dark-haired elf of his plan. Francesca, you assumed.  

The druids offered you a place to sleep for the night, but there were still many daylight hours remaining and the hungry of Baldur’s Gate could not wait, so you declined politely.  

Your party of three travelled quickly back along the path to the city, Halsin in high spirits at the prospect of sleeping in the wilds.  

“I don’t suppose you came across Thaniel and Oliver on your way here, did you?” he queried.  

“We cut down some goblins,” said Lae’zel. “But no children.”  

It was soon time to camp again, the orange glow of the setting sun spilling lazily through the gaps in the shrubbery.  

Woodsmoke billowed from the campfire and you held a skewer of small vegetables the druids had gifted you over the heat. The crackling of flames filled the quiet, interrupted only as Lae’zel cleared her throat.  

“Druid,” she began, then halted, reconsidering her diction. “Halsin.”  

“I am listening,” came the reply.  

She opened her pack, producing the flower she had picked.  

“I understand you can keep beheaded plants fresh.”  

“Ah, a token as part of your mating ritual, is it?”  

Pink crept into Lae’zel’s cheeks as her grip on the blossom tightened. She thrust it toward him, turning her face away with a scowl.  

“Yes.”  

Halsin smiled and reached out to the bloom, viridian light rippling gently around his outstretched fingers. Dark petals glimmered, instantly renewed.  

“It is done.”  

You reclined on your bedroll once more, the moss beneath you making for a comfortable bed. You slid a ring off your index finger, rolling it aimlessly in your hands, the metal reflecting jittering flames.  

You might have stared at the rotation of the jewellery for an hour, or maybe two. The hushed voice of Halsin conversing with Thaniel and Oliver carried over to you. He was being mindful not to disturb your rest, though your eyes had not grown heavy. You slid the ring back into place and turned onto your side, fixated on the fire itself. Fragments of your nightmares seeped into your mind. The flames had devoured you whole yet here you were, untouched and smooth-skinned as ever. You urged to stretch out your fingers into the blaze, to see if this too was false. How could a vision that had appeared as real as your current view leave you unharmed? Perhaps you lacked the ability to sleep because you were already dreaming.  

You sat up to down your sleeping draught, then rolled onto your other side, your back to the fire. Entertaining such thoughts was fruitless. You set your eyes on the dancing shadows cast from your body as the light flickered, creating a charming show for you to watch until your lids fell shut.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion #astarion x reader #bg3 fanfiction #an ascended astarion fic for the spawn lovers #astarion ancunin #Rei's Cloud of Daggers

[perahn]

@bettydicebettydice said: BG3 fic #2 sounds INTERESTING!!! snippet pls

jadesabre301 said: GIVE ME THE GITH HEADCANONS

I regret that there are not, as yet, any actual sentences in this story, just a pile of headcanon and some plot notes that are sitting in a gmail draft because that way I can get at them almost wherever I happen to be.

I will say that a lot of the fic is about family. Daddy Halsin is, of course, in his element with those wagonfuls of orphaned children to love and care for, and all of them adore him. It is not nearly so effortless for Varash, who also has a great deal of ongoing culture shock to deal with on the Prime (and was told by one of the kids, in no uncertain terms, that she is too bony and skinny for cuddling).

It's Oliver, who always wanted a papa and a mama and a dog, who starts calling Varash ghullva'ye one day - much to her surprise, because he pulled the gith for 'chosen parent' right out of her mind. Then a few of the other kids pick it up, and eventually Varash has a smaller number of kids (mostly older) who attach harder to Ghullva'ye than to Daddy Halsin. And many of them are happy to learn gith so they can talk properly with her, and with the hatchling githyanki Lae'zhan (this needs finessing: the fist part is, of course, for Lae'zel, and the latter for Xan, which is what she calls the hatchling, But Lae'xan looks odd to me. zh- feels like a more appropriate githerai spelling, but it doesn't look right either and the connection gets lost. It sounds much better than it looks).

And it's about that time that Gale teleports in, having finally remastered plane shift, and takes Varash, Halsin and Lae'zhan off to Limbo, so that Varash can see her mother (who is shocked to have a githyanki grandson but comes around) and make a full report about the whole Absolute crisis and what the recovery of Prince Orpheus might mean for the githzerai.

I promise, she was going to make that report to Zaerith Menyar-Ag-Gith even before the epilogue!

As for headcanons... I don't want to get too deep into how I decided the egg-laying should work, because I'm not 100% happy with it yet. BUT I can give you some random bits, like:

Githzerai settlements are generally centred around the pools. This is a relic of illithid colonies and their brine pools, but gith eggs still require incubation in warm water at a constant temperature to hatch. Eggs are kept communally, but most parents will chose to raise their own, once hatched.

There is something like a creche system, but the only children raised entirely by creche are those whose parents reproduced solely as a duty to the species. There is no particular stigma attached to this, and often these children will be adopted by other parents anyway. The creche therefore serves more as socialisation and early education.

I was talking about the pools, whoops. So one corner of them is for the eggs, but the rest is available to any gith who wants to come and swim or soak. Githzerai gather there to talk and relax, tend the eggs, meditate, etc. It would be the first place you'd look for a gith who you knew wasn't engaged in any particular work at the time or at home.

#stuff #writing #jadesabre301 #bettydice #meme

[deletarius1893]

Just added Xan to this piece, still tightening up the background before post.

#bg3 art #bg3 fanart #lae'zel bg3 #bg3 xan #baldur's gate 3 xan #art #artwork #art wip #character art #artist #character illustration #illustration #dnd art #githyanki hatchling #githyanki #lae'zel

[sorcerous-caress]

Oh, to talk about Gith culture and socialization, I shall gladly run my mouth.

Okay theory time.

Since Githyanki are militaristic and the majority of their current culture is just catered towards a lich queen's need for strong souls. They probably don't touch that much, and it makes so much sense.

Vlaakith most likely views interpersonal relationships as road blocks for her conveyor belt of souls, things that weaken her feast and taint possible strong individuals with weakness. So, touch outside of combat is discouraged if not outright banned.

However, there are some roles in githyanki culture that have permission due to the nature of the station; Varshs and Ghustils

Varshs have to have contact to ensure that all hatchlings are healthy and intact. I'm sure being born in an egg causes gith to emerge slightly more advanced than a human newborn, but a baby is still a baby.

Varshs are the first set of gentle hands a gith will feel in life, and the last, right before a gith enters their basic training.

Gith may not know what Mommy/Daddy issues are, but they definitely know what Varsh issues are.

Ghustil are slightly different, but the same sentiment still stands. They are set of hands roaming your body to assess damage, rub salves into your bruises, and most likely the only time a gith gets one on one time alone with someone.

So, of course their gonna memorize every detail down to a t.

Savor every firm hand that holds you down as they set your bones in place, squirm at every praise for staying still for an examination, and view every steady sitch as a kiss.

Medical kink is probably everywhere in gith culture, much to some Ghustils dismay.

So every time Lae'zel calls a Tav/Durge Ghustil or Khal'ian calls Jaheira Varsh, it means very different things to them besides roles/titles.

They also have a truce not to tell others those meanings

I love this

Especially varsh issues instead of mommy/daddy issues. Because sure, funny meme haha, but also, it removes the need misogyny subtext of it! It's just one parent now who is called "caretaker," making them both equal and the same instead of enforcing gender roles on them.

Like all varsh hug and protect their young regardless of gender, all varsh are given the same creditablity and respect. Githyanki are really miles ahead of humanity in these things, how refreshingly inclusive and non narrow minded they can be when it comes to this.

There are no gender roles, and there are no divide or job biases. Everyone can be a capable soldier, everyone can be a medic, and everyone can be a varsh.

Lae'zel and Khal'ian must feel confused when people in faerun treat them differently based on their gender or assume different things on them.

Or how when Lae'zel brings up ghustil around non-gith, they assume it's a man. Khal'ian bringing up his varsh and people immediately assuming it's a woman, even when the gith creche we encounter had a male varsh.

They'd also be confused by the gender separation in clothed, all gith wore the same armour, all gith had the same clothes. Why are these ones okay for one gender but not the other? How can you even gender clothes.

I think this came to be in their culture because mindflayers don't have genders, and githyanki got so used to dealing with them that they completely abolished all gender roles they might have ever had.

-

But anyway yeah back to the kink part.

The only other time where they get touched besides at the medic bay and caretaker is during training.

They'd probably have a teacher kink too ngl- they way they feel their teaches eyes on them, sizing them up, manhandling them into the correct position, whispering orders in their ears.

Slipping up during training and having their teacher bark at them to go to the medical bay. Knowing another set of hands will be touching them on the examination bed.

Soft curious touches that suddenly turn rough to feel up any bruises, the cold feeling of rubber gloves sending goosebumps on their skin, the disinterested look of the ghustil as they tell them to strip to their underwear and stay still while reading a healing salve they'll be rubbing into them.

By the time they're done and they get left neglected on the table afterwards, a varsh enters the room with a baby in their arms. Telling the ghustil about suspecting a fever as they gently cradle them.

It's not their old varsh, this one is only a decade or so older than them but fuck seeing someone preforming the same role makes them feel an unexplainable feeling.

The varsh's eyes meet them, and a wave of nostalgia and comfort suddenly hits them. They want to be hugged and held, comforted, and cared for like before, but they know they can't be weak.

But then the stranger varsh steps in front of their laying form, putting a hand on their forehead and checking on them. Murmuring about how they're burning up, maybe a fever is going around the creche.

And it's the most tender touch they have ever felt before it too is gone.

#♡gith culture #♡mommy kink #♡daddy kink #♡teacher kink #♡medical play kink #♡smut #♡Khal'ian #♡OthersOCs #♡Laezel

[reyofluke-ocs]

OCs DESERVE BETTER -> Morxan Elmith (Baldur's Gate 3)

"All dragonborn have a dragon ancestor. No one knows for sure who, though more dedicated researchers usually narrow it down to a handful. To interact with one, to know for sure where you come from... is unheard of."

Born into a small clan of primarily bronze dragonborn's, Morxan was always seen as an oddity among his clan - he was born with a tail, and clearly inherited the magic from their distant dragon ancestors. Still, clan is clan, and he was treated as any other member of the clan and in fact is often in charge of watching over any new hatchlings, entertaining them with his magic. While going to Baldur's Gate to visit Sorcerer's Sundries, Morxan suddenly finds himself abducted onto a nautiloid and infected with a Mindflayer tadpole. Joining a group of crash survivors, the unlikely group begin a seemingly futile search for a cure before they turn into Mindflayer's themselves. Only for them to learn there is something unique about their tadpoles, and it likely has to do with their mysterious savior of the crashing ship and guardian that keeps showing up in their dreams. With everything that has happened, Morxan shouldn't be all that surprised to find himself falling for a Githyanki warrior... or to discover how connected his mysterious dream guardian is to his ancestry.

special thanks to @astarionbae for helping with the color choices! tagging: @endless-oc-creations@stanshollaand, @foxesandmagic , @hiddenqveendom , @arrthurpendragon ,@cas-verse, @eddiemunscns , @far-shores, @oneirataxia-girl, if anyone wants to be added/removed or I accidentally forgot, please let me know!

#ocappreciationtag #toalltheocsivelovedbefore #bg3 oc #fyeahvideogameocs #baldur's gate 3 oc #ocs deserve better #*mine #oc: morxan elmith #i hate how short his description is #but at least i've introduced him now #i adore him and lae'zel so much #they're babies and precious

[suntiger745]

Still not at the number of Fallout 4 characters (or Skyrim characters before I re-installed it), but I am at the point where I've had to write down some key points about my BG3 characters to keep track.

Anyway.

Dusk Cloudberry, orc shadow monk who works for the Zentharim. She was sleeping in a safe house in Baldur's Gate when the lookout's warning whistle had her scramble from her bed, running out in just her skivvies thinking there was a raid from the Flaming Fists. Turns out it was a nautiloid instead, and she was one of the people captured.

She escaped from the nautiloid with a few others, but she's a bit uncertain what to do now. She's not sure where the closest Zentharim agents are, and the tadpole in her head is... a problem.

Dusk look the way she does because I went with the WoW formula of orcs being morphologically sensitive to magic and changing skin color when enough magic affect them. In Dusk's case it's a mix of magic and alchemy that the higher ups in the Zentharim used on her and a few other agents to enhance their performance. She has excellent reflexes, sharper hearing, actually move between shadows and can see as well as a drow in the dark compared to how she was before the process she went through. (Also, from a purely layer perspective, damn the orcs have like no subcutaneous fat on them.)

Crimson Aria was one of the prize possessions of H'than Mariander; businessman, collector and owner of several taverns and an arena at the Rock of Bral in astral space. He had gotten hold of a githyanki egg and, knowing how they fancy red dragons, decided to create an amalgamation of the two. Partially to annoy the githyanki, partly to see if he could. He hired a wizard and called in a favor from an archfey, and Mariander's "little jewel" was born. As she grew up she was taught to entertain, both on the stage and in the arena. She's a very good singer and a good fighter, at least in a gladitorial arena where the opponent knows that if they kill the boss' favorite there will be hell to pay.

She was kidnapped along with two magical items by a rival to the H'than and shipped planetside to Toril by the mercenaries on the job. They were passing through Baldur's Gate to a potential buyer in Waterdeep when happenstance had Aria caught by one of the massive tentacles and transported her onto the nautiloid.

While not body shy in the slightest, Aria isn't dumb. She realize that she will need allies and that fighting in the arena is different from fighting for your survival, so she got some armor as soon as she could. Now she is looking for a way to return to Mariander and the Rock of Bral, though meeting a real githyanki outside the supervision of her "father" is a rare treat and something she's very curious about, despite Lae'zel's harsh attitude.

Amarantia Celestria is a female dragonborn from a noble family, with a strong current of magic running through her from her ancestors. However, Amarantia chafed at the duties piled on her by the rigid community she lived in. She had dreamed of becoming a bard ever since she was a hatchling, and one night she acted on her desires and ran away to fulfil her dream. She was on the road to Baldur's gate, the city in sight even, when the nautiloid snatched her up.

The whole tadpole situation is a bit scary and a lot inconvenient, but she's determined to pursue her dream anyway. Also, she met a one-horned tiefling from Avernus who called her 'Sparkles'. After the initial shock, which was short-lived because Karlach turned out to be really nice and friendly, she rather liked it. She does sparkle after all, at least in sunlight, and it would be a good bard name.

Lorken to Bairn (Lorken the Child) was on a spirit quest to find his Heart Beast when a giant squid ship flew past over him and snapped him up like a tasty snack. He managed to escape by a combination of luck, a direct application of brute force and some allies he made on the squid ship. Shortly after crashing back on Toril, he could feel the connection to his ancestors in the land around him, even if it was faint, he met a wise and friendly undead. Seeing it as an omen that the first undead he encountered was friendly, he decided to explore the area.

In a battle before the entrance to a druid grove he called out for a Heart Animal to aid him, and a spirit answered. A great bear spirit bonded itself to him, its strength enhancing his already considerable strength, its tough hide letting him absorb blows that would have felled him before. Having found his Heart Beast and thus becoming an adult he took the new surname Bearheart, as was tradition. Seeing the druids as having aided him in his spirit quest, he pledged he would help them as best he could, and by extension the refugees trapped in the grove.

Ash Lightbringer is a devout cleric of Lathander who was raised in a small temple to the Morninglord between Baldur's Gate and Waterdeep. Her parents had met as slaves in one of the Hells, but were freed by a group of adventurers. The paladin of Lathander in the group, Evelyn, was particularly friendly towards them and helped them with a bit of money to find a place of their own in a village when they returned to Toril. Her parents were devout worshipers of the Morninglord from then on and raised their daughter to be the same.

Ash is well trained though she lacks any actual combat or adventuring experience. She had just reached Baldur's Gate to visit the Morninglord's temple there and look for a group of adventurers to join when she got snatched up by the nautiloid. Although she's nervous and frightened by the quite extreme situation she suddenly finds herself in, she is determined to help the new allies she has found. She knows better than many that even in the darkest places there can be a light that brings hope and salvation.

Fionalar Torilastra is a high elf noble lady of Waterdeep whose parents were in turn nobles in Myth Drannor, which she and they will tell anyone who will listen, and quite a few who don't want to listen too. Arrogant, and an outright snob when it comes to drinks and jewelry, Fionalar is nonetheless genuinely talented with magic and a dedicated scholar. She was passingly familiar with Gale via Elminster Aumar and finds it suspiciously that both of them just happened to be snatched up by a nautiloid and implanted with tadpoles altered with [redacted] magic.

Although a bit put off with the "commoner" skills of lockpicking and sleight of hand, she's quite impressed with Astarion in the little party of people she finds herself in. She is determined to find out who and what has collected them and for what purpose. If she and Gale put their minds together, they will surely solve that riddle in short order. Or so she tries to convince herself.

Dog doesn't remember much after waking up in the tent of a small mercenary company led by a half orc named Captain Stonefist. The Captain said she'd lost some people and needed to fill out her ranks. He looked big and strong, and if he could follow orders he could be very useful to her and be well compensated for it.

With little in him besides anger, pain and visions of blood, the man simply did what the Captain told him to do. Dig latrines, no problem. Carry feed for the mules, sure. Kill? Oh yes. He was good at killing. Since he never argued back, Captain Stonefist started to call him her dog. The others in the company adopted the name as well. Dog didn't mind. I felt good to have direction after the broken hole his mind and past was. And he got to kill. He was very good at killing, grabbing a rage he wasn't sure where it came from and harnessing it into a sharp, bloody tool.

The company was about to enter Baldur's Gate, which Dog felt some anticipation towards. That was nice, he hadn't really cared about where they went in the two months since he'd been found by the Captain's scouts. He didn't know why, but it was nice to have a feeling other than rage, or blankness. They never got to enter the city however, as a nautiloid appeared in the sky above them and Dog got grabbed onto the alien ship. Dog didn't really know what to do, but the ilithids and devils were clearly enemies, so he killed them. The woman who called herself Lae'zel that he met seemed to know where they were and how to get away though, so he followed her lead and did what she told him to do. That was familiar. Comfortable. Plus, he got to kill again.

#rpg #oc #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 spoilers #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #dark urge #durge #characters

[cedastarions]

one of my Tavs - Y E M R E:

Hailing originally from Creche K'liir, Yemre was born in the same hatchling brood as Lae'zel but promptly removed from her creche and sent to a training school for Vlaakith agents. A top student in her class, Yemre was sent out on missions for Vlaakith and the crown as soon as she was of age and infiltrated armies, civilizations, courtrooms, and noblehouses using her skills in disguise and deception.

As her journey continued, Yemre met countless wonderful individuals and was forced to kill many of them for her queen. Over the years she began to grow tired of turning her back on people whom she had grown to connect with, though she desperately tried to stay cold and distant from her targets as all githyanki should be/. It became even more difficult as she continued to spend more time with other cultures and less with her own as her missions dragged on.

Yemre eventually started to question the motives of her queen and wonder how any of what she was required to do was beneficial to her fellow githyanki. In her youth Yemre was taught that the Gith peoples were most intelligent, strongest, deceptive, and were otherwise the superior being of the universe. But through her journeys she met countless wizards who were more powerful with magic than her own people, barbarians and half-orcs with the strength of 10 githyanki, and vampires and duergar who could disappear into the shadows as if they were born from them.

While on a mission for her queen, Yemre became distracted by these doubt filled thoughts and lost her touch. Strolling through the streets Yemre was caught off guard and captured by a mind flayer who tortured her mind for information on her queen and prior missions. The nautiloid soon arrived and snatched her up, infecting her with a parasite and changing her life forever.

After the crash, Yemre chose to put her faith in fellow gith Lae'zel who she is unaware is a broodmate, Shadowheart - a gith sceptic, and Wyll. Along their journey Wyll teaches Yemre more about his people and she sees the beauty in the land of Faerun with his guidance. He teaches her to dance, and eventually to love.

#baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #bg3 #gaming #mine #pc #pc gaming #photomode #dnd #dungeons and dragons #tav #bg3 tav #tav bg3 #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction

[traceofexistence]

so it was my name day today, it is celebrated in my culture like a birthday, I dont exactly care about it, but I ate the cake my mom made for me 💁‍♂️

while I wont share my mother tongue nor my name in it

the translation to english is "freedom" (many people in real life call me that😋)

the translation to japanese is "jiyuu" 自由

the translation to githyanki language is "Xan" which is what Lae'zel calls the gith hatchling 🥰