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anderstrevelyan · 5 months

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I've only barely edged my toes into Act 3, but I have to ask what is "Haunted One"?

thank you!! (answering questions about my WIPs here)

This one's a prequel fic! The title comes from the name of the in-game background if you play the Dark Urge. But I'll still be super cautious and go under a cut in case you don't know what the Dark Urge is yet and don't want to know.

So this is the origin story for my Valas DeVir, told in four days: the last day of his childhood, and his first day in Bhaal's temple, then the first day he meets Enver Gortash and the last day before he's betrayed by Orin.

He's the son of my character from the first two games, so there's a fair amount of reconciling that with the bg3 backstory: his relationship with Jaheira, tension with Sarevok and Helena Anchev, Bhaal taking hold of him through his dreams and the arrival of his Urge. It flirts with some broader dnd canon, too, especially the Murder in Baldur's Gate campaign: the death of Valas's father as he turns into the Slayer, and the off-page presence of Torlin Silvershield, the former Chosen of Bhaal.

Plus a whole lot of durgetash in the second pair of chapters.

This one's my biggest focus right now and the first time I've ever written all the chapters of something before starting to post it, so I'm ajsdklfjsfldsgfjdslf very excited to get it out into the world soon!

Hmm, for an excerpt I'll do some of the Gortash chapter I've never shared before:

It’s a singular feeling, the anticipation that comes before a party within the Upper City’s wall. Enver Gortash had savoured it, back when he’d had to arrive grasping a signed invitation to be admitted after dark, to stand on the edges at some minor family’s manor making eyes at Wisteria Jannath until she could steal away. He enjoys it still, new in his lordship, even as each night’s extravagance grows uninspiring: the moments before the performance, where his very presence is a show of power. And tonight, as he makes his way to the storied Silvershield Estate—tonight has the air of one he’ll want to remember. An important meeting, an introduction choreographed with a gravity befitting its promise. Later, with hindsight, he’ll look back and see this as a turning point. As perhaps the most important evening of his life. But for now, with a jacket dark and fingers adorned gold, he breathes in that potential in the evening air as he reaches the neighbourhood’s western edge. He chose today for the location itself, and he hadn’t had to wait long for the right invitation: the Silvershields are consummate hosts, their property the length of a city block, their gardens expansive and expensive, the walls themselves carved intricately, patriotically with yellow granite from the bluffs. It’s an unmistakable honour to be invited for newer members of the Gate’s gentry; being seen here—making an impression here—that’s been a coveted thing for generations. Yet the list is far from exclusive, to attract enough revellers to keep the grounds from looking too sparse: a place possible to bring an unexpected guest. A dangerous guest. Even better, in Gortash’s mind, is the layer of iniquity past all the pristine gravel and polished gossip, if you know what lies beyond the hinged bookshelf in Duke Torlin Silvershield’s office on the second floor. Gortash doesn’t, not exactly, but he has his suspicions from information spied and stolen: enough that he’d be surprised if his invited guest hasn’t graced these halls before, though surely not in the view of so many gentle, innocent eyes. No, a party like this is Lord Gortash’s world. And he intends to keep the upper hand.

#bg3 #my writing #the dark urge #valas devir #enver gortash #torlin silvershield #ask game

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aaluminiumas · 14 days

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Lyric On His Tongue

This is Chapter 1 of 2. You can find the entire fanfic here.

Astarion was jaded to the core.

He was so infernally bored that his daily—or, was nighttime a better word?—routine seemed a senseless undertaking he wanted to avoid at all costs. It was all the same, the risible performance of lust, predictability, and humdrum. Gaudily dressed people trying to attain their preposterous goals. Artificial conviviality slithering between the tables. Hideous music thundering in the ears—

Had he been alive, he would’ve called in sick, feigning the worst case of pneumonia known to humanity and staging the ensuing miracle of recovery. Had he been alive, he would’ve concocted a lovely, not-quite-believable story where he saved a cat, a child, or a wizard in distress from an unnamed threat, and the entire city would've fallen for it. Had he been alive, he would’ve said he had his reasons, and no one would incriminate his actions. After all, he was a magistrate. A very respectable magistrate, revered by all citizens of Baldur’s Gate. Well, maybe the Gur were an unlucky exception, but really, who would’ve listened to a bunch of crazy folks who did nothing but deceive the kind denizens of the city by foisting their fortune-telling bogus! He was still better than them.

Or, rather, had been.

Astarion huffed and reclined on the counter, gazing into a glass of wine. He had ordered the drink a few hours ago and pretended to sip the Ithbank every now and then, but the crimson liquid didn’t ebb. Gods, how did he want to slough off this rotten task, hightail from this hellish shithole of a tavern, and recede into the gloom, feigning defeat!..

Unfortunately, the news about his smashing defeat did not sound even remotely plausible. None of his carefully cherry-picked pick-up lines was ever nugatory. None of his tantalizing gestures was ever accidental. None of the unctuous notes in the dulcet voice with a penchant for taking a seductive edge was ever misplaced. In short, Astarion was aware of his bedazzling looks, and he didn’t miss a chance to put his charms to good use.

So, even the dumbest spawn of the lot, Pale Petras, wouldn’t buy it.

Swerving his ruby eyes to the diverse crowd, Astarion idly scanned the throng of people teeming in the tavern, eyeing each visitor with ill-concealed contempt. They all came here to get a harlot. Their intentions were crystal clear. Those who missed Sharess’ Caress on the way to Baldur’s Gate always sought a sufficiently respectable establishment to tend to their physical needs and caprices. Taverns like this didn’t scream brothel, but they very well could be one—such inns only pretended to specialize in food and drinks. If you wanted additional entertainment to go with a bottle of Ithbank, you needn’t even get up to ask for assistance. Maybe all places in Baldur’s Gate were the same. Call it a hallmark, if you wish. Whatever.

Ah, how he loathed it. Endless strings of people, loudmouthed whores, artificial smiles, whistles emitted by an invigorated lumper, and hackneyed advances of a lame artist. Oddly enough, one of them had managed to captivate Lady Jannath. What did she find in this pathetic idiot? His pitiful attempts at courtship didn’t even look ludicrous—they were outright deplorable. Surely, some women had no taste, and appreciation of art played little role in personal proclivities and preferences.

Astarion examined the visitors again, this time with a modicum of curiosity. Harlots, wantons, rummies, and lost travelers looking for a place to stay over the night didn’t deserve a mere scrap of his attention; they all seemed so unbearably dull they wouldn’t even serve their only purpose: to be a decent banquet for a true connoisseur.

Astarion’s lanky fingers circled the edge of the glass brimmed with gold. To hells with it. Cazador had no illusions regarding the spawns’ attitude: if he ever had a good trait of character, it was his relative sobriety. For all his intimidating bluster, he never deluded himself into believing that any of the spawn truly admired him or his teaching methods. He could do nothing about that. He could imagine the most ferocious tortures, contrive the most vicious trials, devise the most ruthless and savage ordeals, but no torment could change Astarion’s or, for that matter, Petras’ mind: Cazador was detested by his own very spawn. He could not be vanquished, true, but he would never be venerated either.

The sad thing was that this fact didn’t afflict him or undermine the current status quo: you couldn’t just inveigle a goblin and offer this lovely specimen on a plate.

Especially, if you had his looks. Petras might just be the perfect fit for goblins and the like, but Astarion, on the contrary, was too well-groomed, too cultured to attract such foul prey. His victim might not be immaculate, but it had to be good. After all, this victim must please the perverse and exquisite taste of the abhorrent tyrant who always reveled in torturing others. In torturing his own very spawn.

On a side note, if his today’s target turned out better than acceptable, he might be spared. Maybe even rewarded. Ah, to see Petras’ disgusting muzzle contorted by jealousy and hunger when Master tossed a scant commendation Astarion’s way. What a sight, really. Truly remarkable. One of the few genuinely fascinating things in this moldy, decaying, dismal, and grim castle that needed a monumental revamp ten centuries ago.

Maybe Cazador would even go as far as offering him a handful of human blood he could savor for days to come, highlighting the peculiar, ever-changing aftertaste sticking to the palate—

Hells. This was unnecessary.

Irked by his wild imagination, Astarion felt the tang dissipating on the tongue, dispersing and morphing into the feeling of egregious thirst he was too familiar with. The mere inkling of the scene he had started to envision was too much for him to bear.

Luckily, his train of thought was interrupted by a faint squeak of the double doors. A mere mortal wouldn’t have noticed that, and the screech of the old hinges would’ve drowned in the raucous tumult of the tavern, but as someone with a preternaturally acute sense of hearing, this indiscernible sound became a cue—a new visitor.

A new potential victim.

Reacting to the creak, Astarion jerked his head to see who was coming.

He expected another run-of-the-mill drunkard, another adventurer, perhaps, but his eyes stumbled over a particularly unusual sight, practically extinct in notorious Baldur’s Gate, the city of the depraved. The man, faltering at the threshold of the tavern, made a strong contrast to the local vermin.

The unwritten rule of Cazador’s—never hunt the rich—shaped up in Astarion’s head. Not that the miserable vampire lord cared about the benefits they could bring to the city. The reason was so quotidian it shouldn’t be explained: he didn’t want to leap directly into a predicament. The well-to-do would get alarmed immediately if one of their ilk vanished without a trace. One thing might lead to another, and inadvertently, his vampire lair might be exposed to the public, which would eventually entail a spectacular execution of all seven spawns and their lord at the helm. Therefore, most of the time the spawns were bound to choose the safest option of the unsafe: stray travelers, opulent merchants from overseas, prominent guests visiting local galleries, foreigners, loners with means... In a nutshell, everyone who looked presentable enough and whose absence would not be noticed. Evidently, the young man didn’t fall into the category, but something in his demeanor betrayed a novice. Inert, palsied by the picture unfurling before his eyes, he looked utterly vulnerable, as if he never belonged to the city in the first place. Maybe he was a foreigner, after all. Well, he had bumped into this lovely little nest, so he was either desperate or looking for a crepuscular adventure.

Either would do.

Consummate seducer, Astarion swept his eyes over the tall, slender figure, dressed in an embroidered doublet. Clearly, an aristocrat; but for someone with his ancestry, the man struck with his baffling innocence. Where the hells was he hiding while the entire city indulged in vices, flaunting them all the way, spurning church and succumbing to repudiation of decency? Was he enchained deep under the dragon’s den waiting for his eighteenth birthday? This outstanding display of chastity looked almost unnerving: magistrate in the past, Astarion dealt with venality and corruption on a regular basis, not always on the side of justice. And for his entire career, he had never faced virtue as a concept.

Not that he broke a sweat trying to find one, though. Now, Madame Virtue seemed to have found its way into this man’s body and blindsided Her erstwhile servant. The red eyes transfixed on the visitor in a most unsettling way.

If you liked the extract, please feel free to check out the whole Chapter here:

#fanfic #fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #bg3 astarion #astarion #astarion x sebastian #astarion ancunin

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lairofsentinel · 3 years

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Do you think Oskar Fevras the artist whom you can buy in any way mirrors Gale? His story reminded me a bit of Gale’s in the whole hung up on your first love thing

Hello there!

Let me explain you how I understand Oskar Fevras. I think that may be an important key to see what I'm going to be concluding.

Oskar has the pretence of being a noble, and likes too much wealth and fame. His patron is his betrothed: Lady Jannath. The Jannath are a family of wealthy mine-owners in BG, who, according to the Main Char's "gossip" knowledge, have been passing through a scandal when they realised that Oskar was a commoner. Apparently Oskar is known as the runaway groom for this.

I'm not so sure to believe that the problem in all his drama is his commoner past. But he doesn't clarify it in a very explicit way. We only have this information from the narrator and it's like a "rumour", something you picked in the air in the city's gossip, so it can be slightly different.

He clarifies that the date of the marriage was never set... but clearly the intention was there. What happened? "Complications", he adds.

Oskar tells you that before his fame as a painter and his affair with Lady Jannath, there was another woman he wanted to spend his life with [which make me assume he was with her until the last moment of the proposal] but when he was offered marriage with Lady Jannath, who gave him a better future because her wealth, he thought "important to tell her about his past".

These lines are a bit inconsistent in their logic, no? You love a woman you want to marry, but then another one very wealthy, asks you marriage and you consider to tell her "you are a commoner" [if we assume the rumour is true].... There is no much connection with the concepts... unless Oskar is saying other thing in his vague way of explaining this story.

In my opinion, he is saying:

I was with this woman I wanted to spend my life with. But on the other hand, I wanted to be famous and wealthy, so I started a serious afair with a person who would support my art: Lady Jannath [it's implied he became her lover without never telling her he was with the first woman]. All was done in order to have fame and wealth. Then Lady Jannath proposes him marriage, and he considers it's reasonable to tell her about "his past" [his past as in, there is another woman, there was always another woman]. This scandal triggered, and because we are talking about a noble family in BG, we know they can control rumours, so they preferred to make it about his "commoner" past instead of his double-cheating.

When he explained his past to Lady Jannath, he was "forced" to escape and think about who to "choose". He doesn't know yet. "Fame and wealth suit me very well." But when he thinks in his first love... he hesitates. He says all this with a very light tone, yet, he makes of this a big dilemma, almost a performance of drama: to choose between true love or wealth to develop his skills.

I may have taken all this a bit more serious if it weren't for the last line he says. If something I've learnt by reading a lot of books of narrative and how to write narratives, is that professionals don't put useless lines in the character's mouths to be wasted. They have meaning.

When the rescue is finally done, he asks for money to fight the "discomfort of the road", and, unless this has been changed in this last patch [I don't play BG3 since patch 2 or 3] he says something that makes you understand that he is going to spend this money in alcohol [he says something along the lines "well, I should endure the road sober then"]. So this last bit showed us that he is not really a very trustworthy person, he hides the truth just to take some extra benefit of the situation [we don't see a real struggle in all this, more like a performance of a struggle].

It's true the situation is a bit vague and this interpretation may be wrong, but Oskar is not exactly an honest char. He has his love for over-dramatisation and present himself as the victim in situations that are not thaaaaat bad.

Now, how all this is similar to Gale? I'm afraid I don't see much similarity, sorry. You can stretch things a lot to make Lady Jannath to look like Mystra [Mystra is the one who gave Gale the deepest connection with the Weave, which is something that brings him joy and sense in life to Gale. She is a kind of "patron" for Gale? It's too stretched, Mystra is a goddess of particular behaviour in her lore] ... but you also can connect her with the first woman by using the weak link of "being Gale's first love". Where the Main Character fits in all this analogy? How all this situation has a relationship with Gale, his abandonment issues caused by a powerful, immense entity as Mystra, and how he made dire mistakes to get her attention again, like all devotees do in this crazy Faerûn? I don't see it, sorry. Gale's first love was Mystra, the most powerful goddess of the pantheon of Faerûn. Oscar's first love was a mortal woman. I'm afraid I can't see much to relate there beyond the fact that "people have first loves" that imprint a strong effect in a person's life [which is true for almost all humans in real life].

I'm not sure if maybe this question is motivated by all those terrible takes that Gale receives in this fandom. I think a lot of people have serious problems with the fact that Gale has an ex. For this, people are a mixture of being offended by that and also treat the party scene as if it were a "big" revelation, which is not?. Sure, he has an ex that inspires him complicated emotions but it's clear he wants to get rid of that event and move on.

Gale never plays two sides. He is always very clear about the fact of having secrets, about his boundaries [another thing that the fandom doesn’t forgive him], and how complicated is for him to speak about Mystra. If you get nice rolls, you can even tell Gale that he is dreaming with Mystra [like, the game makes you AWARE of it XD]... And he also tells you that the tadpole dreams are about power and desire... I mean, if the guy says that, and then dreams with Mystra....why some people are offended/surprised after the party!??? haha. The biggest mystery in this fandom.

Sure, the scene is not handled in the best ways, there are some weird lines, everything looks so high-school cheap drama. I get that... I don't know, we have to blame it for being Early Access and for Gale not being Larian's fave. But well... Gale has an ex. It's a fact, and one can know that very early if the fucking game couldn't be soooooo shitty bugged with his char.

Here is one of my videos [very old patch as you can see] where we can see the second dream: He says "These dreams are about desire", I pick the option of Mystra. "Yes, I dream with Mystra". You know by your own dreams that these dreams are very sexual in general... So, conclusion? Gale has an ex.

Oskar is playing with two women at the same time in the worst case scenario. In the best one, he abandoned his first love to follow wealth. Her first love [that, let's be honest, how much he loved her that he had no problem to cheat on/abandon when it comes to fame and wealth?] was put aside in favour of this noble. Then he leaves the noble one because he is unable to choose. He was the one who abandoned [or cheated, we can't say completely because it's vague] two women, not the other way around... Plus, to make things even more different, there is this small detail that the fandom always seems to be blind about because most of them only know Dragon Age lore: Mystra is the most powerful goddess in the damn pantheon xD Gale was a plaything in her grasp [this is the worst case scenario; I have a secondary interpretation, more kind to her, focused on Mystra's point of view]. But there is something very strong here that make these comparison too out of any frame to compare: She is not a normal woman... her power is not even compared with Jannath's. She is a Goddess.

So, in short: I'm afraid I don't see much in common. XD I mean, everyone has exes, every person with some age has a past even in Faerûn. Sure, this is Faerûn, so exes can go wild, I get it. XD And having exes is not always a "finished business" [specially when that comes with abandonment issues], but more like a WIP: something to deal with unresolved emotions from past partners that you want to move on, and sometimes a new partner may help you [or make everything worse]. I always read Gale that way.

Thanks for the ask!

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