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thunderwavesolveseverything · 2 months

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Words of Mine Will Turn to Ash

[Astarion x Named Tav]

“Who’s this?” Phayelynn asked, looking at the newcomer with unease.

She knew this man- she recognized his face but couldn’t remember where or how.

“This is the Blade of Frontiers." Shadowheart gestured before reaching for her goblet. "He’s been infected like us. He will help us free Halsin after we help him track down a devil he’s hunting.”

"As I've already told Shadowheart," The man smiled, rising from his seat. He reached his hand out for Phayelynn to shake and gave Shadowheart a playful glare. "My friends call me Wyll."

A cold sweat broke out on Phayelynn's forehead. Her heart skipped a beat, and a lump formed in her throat. Of course- that’s who he had to be. Her mind raced as she tried to act normal. But inside, she was panicking.

She needed to get away from camp and the Blade of Frontiers.

---

So, I'm back and with a new computer!

Lol.

There was no saving my old computer, so I splurged and got a new gaming laptop and I'M INLOVE! It runs so smoothly, and it's like I'm playing the game over for the first time. I didn't know it was supposed to look this good 😂

This chapter is a little more on the shorter side for what I usually write, but I have pretty much all the way up to the Tiefling party outlined, so I'm excited to keep going and writing again. 💜💜💜

Also, we're going to start getting more into Phay's backstory which I'm so excited about!!!

(word count: 2,071)

Read on AO3 or below :)

Words of Mine Will Turn to Ash

Phayelynn sat comfortably beneath Alfira’s tent, perched on a grassy cliff side overlooking the river flowing past the grove. The cool breeze brushed against the tent, stirring the fabric and bringing a sense of calm between the pair of bards.

Alfira sat behind her, her deft fingers working through Phayelynn’s hair as she brained it into two intricate sections, leaving out a few strands to frame her face.

Hours had passed since they first met-Phayelynn having followed the sound of frustrated hands plucking at strings and stumbling across the Tielfing as she struggled to write.

Alfira hummed the song they had written together to herself as she continued to lace and weave strands of hair. The song evoked a connotation of sadness and somehow brought a smile to her face.

Phayelynn, a complete stranger, Alfira noted, was like a close friend after helping her find the right words to honor her teacher- helped her find it in her to play again. And now, Alfira was determined to return the favor.

She’d help Phayelynn feel like a proper bard.

As Phayelynn slowly opened her eyes, finding herself humming along to the tune, she eyed her clothes hanging nearby, swaying in the breeze. They were nearly dry after Alfira’s help with dying them. She couldn’t stop staring at the bright purples and reds that now adorned her clothes, colors her father used to wear.

Alfira sighed in satisfaction as she finally tied off the last braid, “And done,” she sang out with flare.

The braids were perfectly aligned and neatly secured with thin leather straps. She leaned back to admire her handiwork.

“Perfect,” she added, a hint of laughter in her voice. “Now your hair won’t be in the way while you slay those goblins tomorrow.” She gave Phayelynn’s shoulder a gentle squeeze.

Phayleynn smiled, letting a hand fiddle with the braid. The smile quickly turned into a pout. Shadowheart and Gale were busy getting supplies and more important things for tomorrow. All the while, she had spent the day lazing around, playing music, and making a new friend- sprucing up her appearance.

She pursed her lips as she pondered, wondering whether she should have asked Shadowheart’s permission first before dying the clothes. They were gifted to her. She quickly dismissed the thought.

“You don’t think they’re too bright?” Phayelynn looked over the clothes. They were…flashy…to say the least.

Phayelynn shifted to the side so Alfira could get a better look at them.

“Yes,” Alfira giggled, and Phayelynn shot her a look, gaping at her. Alfira stifled her giggles. “But not in a bad way. Purple is a bard’s color, after all. And the red compliments your skin tone beautifully.”

“But what if it is in a bad way- this isn’t like I’m about to perform in front of an audience- I’m about to fight a horde of goblins.” Phayelynn wasn’t entirely convinced. She loved what they had done to her clothes but couldn’t stop herself. What if she messed up again? “What if they draw too much attention?”

“That’s exactly what a bard is supposed to do- draw attention to themselves. All the greats- they don’t hide behind the others, though they don’t necessarily lead the charge. They distract. They rally. They inspire. They stand out and encourage their party in the heat of the battle.” Alfira tries to explain. “Trust me, you are going to do just fine. Now stop overthinking, and let’s get you dressed properly.” she gave Phayelynn a slight push, urging her to stand and stop worrying.

Phayelynn hesitated, letting Alfira get up first, and watching as the Tiefling walked towards the clothes and began taking them down from the tree branch they hung on. She looked away as she stood. The sun was starting to set. Phayelynn knew she was being silly. She could do this.

“You’re right.” she nodded, starting to strip out of the shirt Alfira had let her burrow. Alfira grabbed the red top first, throwing it to Phayleynn once she was ready. “This was fun,” she caught the shirt, pulling it over her head as she spoke, “Thank you for today,” she continued as she popped her head out from beneath the fabric. “I needed this. I-I needed a day of normalcy.”

Alfira beamed, tossing Phayelynn her jacket next, “I should be the one doing the thanking,” she said, sifting through the different belts and holsters they had also dyed a deep red to match. She grabbed an old pair of gloves and gifted them to Phayelynn. “I had completely forgotten what it was like to have that itch in my fingers. To perfect a song until now. The Weeping Dawn will be my gift to Lihala. So thank you, I really needed this too.”

Both smiled at the other before rushing with excitement to finish putting all the pieces together. Fastened belts and hitching thigh-high boots, Phayleynn had a blazing spark in her eye as they worked. Alfira watched her with a critical eye, nodding her head in approval when Phayelynn was fully dressed and equipped.

“It’s perfect!” Alfira exclaimed in delight, clapping her hands together.

With newfound confidence, Phayelynn gave Alfira a spin before pulling her into a warm, grateful hug, which Alfira returned with equal enthusiasm.

When they parted, Alfira looked her up and down one last time and gave her a firm shake for final reassurance, “You can do this.”

Phayelynn smirked. Alfira was right. She could do this.

---

As Phayelynn arrived at camp, darkness had already engulfed the area. She spotted the flickering flames of a fire ahead of her, accompanied by the sound of laughter and chatter. An odd feeling washed over her the closer she got. There were five bodies gathered around the fire instead of four.

She tilted her head in confusion.

Shadowheart was the first to notice Phayelynn’s arrival. Her expression quickly changed from concern to a flash of anger in seconds as she stood up, placing her goblet of wine on the log she had been sitting on. Phayleynn felt uneasy as Shadowheart’s stern eye met her own.

“And where have you been?” She demanded, her voice snipping with disapproval.

Before Phayelynn could answer, Astarion was next to look her over, spreading his lips upwards mischievously, “Our dear cleric was worried sick about you, darling,” he playfully announced, bobbing his head towards Shadowheart. “She was mere moments from heading a search party.”

“I was not worried!” Shadowheart’s face flushed as she hissed at him. She turned back to Phayelynn. “I didn’t know if you had gotten yourself in trouble again or abandoned us or gods know what else!”

Gale let out a deep chuckle.

“That is the definition of being worried,” he pointed out.

This only made Shadowheart angrier, fixing him with her sharp glare next. She waited for him to let out a nervous cough, clearing his throat and looking away before returning to Phayelynn.

“Well, what do you have to say for yourself?” she crossed her arms, waiting for an explanation.

“Um-er, sorry?’ Phayelynn stammered out an apology. A poor one. She shifted in her place. “I lost track of time. I’m sorry.” she tried to sound confident- composed.

“We can see that.” Astarion let out a loud, nosey laugh. He stuck his nose at her, eyes tracing over every part of her form, not leaving a detail out, “Well, I guess we’ll never lose sight of you again.”

He found her new attire obnoxious and hilarious, yet something in him couldn’t bring himself to hate it. It oddly suited her.

“I see you lost track of time while ruining the clothes I bought you,” Shadowheart scolded.

Phayelynn winced- but then she caught herself. Why was she letting them treat her like this? She crossed her arms against her chest and popped her hip out almost defiantly. “I didn’t know I had a curfew, mum,”

Gale saw the twitch in Shadowheart’s brow and moved to intervene. He stepped forward andtried to lighten the mood, “I think you look great. I love the purple.” He gave her a supportive wink, pointing at the purple fabric of his robes.

His voice was warm and genuine, even if his motivation for the compliment was more to keep the peace than flatter. Phayelynn felt a flutter in her chest as she took in the praise. It had the reverse effect. They matched now- her cheeks reddened in embarrassment.

She tried to shake it off, smiling and nodding at the wizard. She looked at the newcomer, who’d been listening in but trying to make it appear that he hadn’t been- he probably didn’t want to get involved in their bickering, Phayelynn assumed.

“Who’s this?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Shadowheart sighed, sitting back down and reaching for her goblet, “While you spent the day playing dress up, Gale and I were busy finding supplies and allies.” She took a sip, gesturing to the man sitting to her left. “This is the Blade of Frontiers. He’s been infected like us. He will help us free Halsin after we help him track down a devil he’s hunting.”

“A devil?” Phayleynn gasped; she scrutinized the man’s features. “I thought we said no more distractions. Or is it only okay if I don’t cause the distraction?”

“As I’ve said, as well.” Lae’zel spoke up in agreement from her spot furthest away from them, “I won’t wait my time chasing devils.”

Phayelynn rolled her eyes. “You won’t waste your time doing anything,” she muttered under hot breath.

She narrowed her gaze, shifting it back to the Blade of Frontiers as he stood up. She studied him as he started to approach.

Her unease from earlier started to grow into fear. This man, she knew this man- somehow and not because he was the famed Blade of the Frontiers. She had heard stories of his heroics, but she recognized his face but couldn’t remember where or how.

The Blade misplaced her confusion- taking it as her fearing facing a devil. “Karlach is fierce, but from what Shadowheart has told me- how you three had escaped the Nautiloid, I have no doubt we won’t succeed.” He stopped before her, reaching out his hand for her to shake. He gave Shadowheart a playful glare. “As I’ve already told Shadowheart, my friends call me Wyll.”

A cold sweat broke out on her forehead. Her heart skipped a beat, and a lump formed in her throat. Of course- that’s who he had to be. Her mind raced as she tried to act normal. But inside, she was panicking.

“I know who you are.”

She failed as her words came out harsher than intended. Still, she forced herself to shake his hand. She felt a pull from his tadpole and quickly let go before he could access hers. She cleared her throat, now trying to cover up her coldness.

“You know, cause you’re so famous- for being the Blade of Frontiers, like you said-” her thoughts were in disarray. She needed to get away from camp and the Blade of Frontiers.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Wyll looked at her curiously- cautiously.

Phayelynn quickly averted her eyes, fearing he was beginning to recognize her. Her eyes met Gale’s first, then Astarion as she darted away before gazing at the river near their camp.

“Yeah, pleasure. We’ll need all the help we can get. Glad to have you.” she forced a smile and gave a nervous laugh. With a quick nod, she jerked her thumb towards the river. “I’m going to go take a bath now.”

She sounded so dumb.

She didn’t let it simmer before abruptly departing from the others. An uncomfortable silence hung in the air as she hurried away without even a glance back at her companions or Wyll.

“But aren’t you hungry?” Gale called after her, his voice laced with concern. “I saved you a plate!”

Wyll’s eyes were fixated on Phayelynn as she rushed away. She seemed terrified of him. He felt a hint of concern- unsettled by her reaction towards him. He noticed Shadowheart and Astarion staring at him, most likely trying to determine what had just happened.

He tried to deflect, unsure what he could have done, “She seems…interesting..” he tried to find the word for the encounter.

Astarion hummed in agreement, watching after Phayelynn as she disappeared through the brush and trees, “Very interesting indeed.”

#astarion x tav #tav bg3 #astarion x oc #astarion romance #astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion x mc #astarion x reader

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themaskstayson · 3 months

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Part three of the Wyll origin run

Ah man, this is a lot. I haven't had Gale so excited to talk to me since my first playthrough 500 hours ago it's kind of cute ngl

I'm thinking about Wyll being emo during the party cause the little scene is one of my favorites, and trying to cheer him up from his body dysphoria(?) but I also really, REALLY, enjoy the idea of Wyll stuffing his feelings down to make everyone happy since he can't be emo by the river since he's the party lead. Wyll is trying to keep the team morale high and then when he's alone in his bed he just cries to sleep. Cause, let's be real, no one is mentally capable to help each other when the player is the therapist.

Also, his funny lines are pretty good and I have been picking every single option to have Wyll just laughing the pain away.

So, we saved Karlach, asked her if she had any advice on horn care since I feel like that's a WAY better route to go instead of Wyll being depressed during the party when you are Tav amd makes more sense since Wyll is gonna mingle.

(Side rant: People say Wyll sucks because he's insensitive but like, come on. He's a DEVIL not tielfing! I think he's allowed to express how he feels uncomfortable in his new DEVIL body. "But tielfings have horns!" yeah okay but they straight up saw Wyll as a human like two days ago, they know something is fishy with the sulfer smell coming off him. You gonna say there's no difference??? Now THAT is insensitive /hj lol)

I also went to the Rest and Counsellor Florrick asked what the hell happened and once again Wyll joked that he was running with the wrong crowd. Unfortunately that backed fired and she said she knew since his father informed them which damn. Ulder is talking mad shit about his own son, that's crazy. Felt bad and then she had the audacity to demand my help???? Like I was gonna give it but damn.

Anyways, I was hoping to get to level 5 before the Goblin Camp but I didn't. So, we gambled it. Had Gut give me the sleep potion and got assistance for that. Knocked Minthara out cause I'm STILL trying to get that girl without being a bad guy. Then fought Ragzlin which.... that was rough. Gale did die but luckily his deas body did some damage to a goblin and Ragzlin. I usually cheese the fight but idk I decided not to this time around for some reason.

STILL not sure who imma romance. Flirted with Gale at the party, which was cute. I am leaning towards him cause I gotta stop romancing Astarion and Wyll all the time. And despite being a huge wyllstarion fan, Gale is doing something to my current need for a cute romance. Plus my other game I am romancing Astarion and Wyll (two Tav game yippee) so I should romance someone new. Karlach did not try to put the moves on me and I am not putting the moves on her so rip. First time ever Shadowheart and Lae'zel are meh about me, which is weird. I'll figure it out the next time I play but might be joining the Gale/Wyll club. I should find some fics to get into the mindset.

Also if anyone is reading these I should mention this is a modded custom game. Meaning I am using the mod honor feature unlock so i can have the playstyle with multiple saves, playing in a custom game that I cannot see the NPC HP, gave the NPC 100% more HP compared to the game 30% more. I want the multiple saves for story stuff cause I'm still trying out new lines but also I need the combat to be harder.

Honour Feature Unlock

Tactician Plus (best for party limit begone tbh this file I'm doing just 4 to a party tho but in other files with everyone, I use the 150% HP)

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #wyll ravengard #wyll origin run #my screenshots

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liquidluckandstuff · 11 months

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WIP Wednesday

Tagged by: @cringe-queasy @racfoam 1. for the Daddymort fest. I need like 20 more of these moments. #montage

The spirit was irritated, and Harry couldn’t figure out why. He had encouraged Harry to sneak out of his cupboard for something to eat even though Harry knew he would get in trouble.

“If you don’t eat, we both suffer. No one will catch you, just remember what I taught you and you will be fine,” the voice of the spirit was like a whisper in his ear. It was weaker before but over the past year or two it has gotten stronger and stronger.

“Ok,” Harry said in his childlike voice. He places his tiny hands on the locked cupboard door and closed his eyes. With all of his might, he concentrated on the lock.

“We’ve practiced this, Harry. You can do it,” the spirit encouraged.

Harry started to feel the magic inside of him reach out to his call and when he heard a soft click of the lock. It took every ounce of self-control he had to not shout out with excitement so it came out of his hands which shook for a moment with the overflowing feeling and a wide smile appeared on his soft face.

“I did it,” Harry whispered happily.

“I’m so proud of you.” The usually irritated voice sounded genuine which made Harry’s heart overflow with a feeling he couldn’t name yet. After all, he couldn’t remember his own parents. How was he supposed to know what love felt like?

2. Darlings and Dragons: next Chapter

Voldemort saw a few more people who looked like the woman who led them and grew curious. “What are they,” he hissed in parseltounge.

“Tielfings. Demon children. They were born from some deal made with a devil a thousand years ago… or something like that I don’t know. They have horns and a tail and most people are naturally distrustful of them. They get kind of bitter about it sometimes,” Harry explained. “Don’t try burning them because it won’t end well.”

The smell of something roasting over the fire made Harry’s stomach growl and he turned his head to see a pig being slowly turned over the flame and a group of stronge elder women laughing and drinking as they watched it cook. “Hey, do you think we can-”

“No.” Voldemort said quickly.

“Oh come on. Just one drink.” Harry pleaded.

“No. That’s not what we are here to do.”

“It could be,” Harry said under his breath. “You just don’t like to have any fun.”

Voldemort snapped. “You want to drink with the people who would probably try to kill us without hesitation?”

“Haven’t I been doing that with you,” Harry said cheekly. “It gets the heart racing doesn’t it? All that danger. It could be good for you old man.”

“I think you have a problem, Harry,” Aster commented worridly. “People don’t do those kinds of thinks and call it fun.”

Harry shrugged. “Yeah, well he started it. Must of given me some brain damage when he gave me the scar on my head. Or tortured me. Or killed my friends. Or-”

“That was him,” Dorryn hissed at the same time as Aster said “He did what?”

______

Motha fuckin tieflings babyyyyy

I'm tagging @i-dream-of-libraries @chronosisakitty @leafiloaf @bluesundaycake And if you made it this far its like THE GAME. First of all you lost, second of all now you have to do it.

#liquidluckandstuff #wip wednesdays #Harrymort #tomarry #tomarrymort #daddymort

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tieflingtareon · 7 months

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

Chapter 4 | Words: 5k

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

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

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

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

Warning: Child death

Finding the Druid wasn’t as hard as he thought it would be. After pickpocketing the goblin and letting the human bard free, they had simply continued on and found a back area.

Tar’eon still seemed tired, not at his best, but strangely, his dark circles weren’t as prominent, even if his parlour was paler than usual. Astarion almost felt bad for being greedy the night prior. He’d go easy tonight. Or, he’d attempt to, if Tar’eon was still up for it.

He seemed to sleep like a rock after he sank his fangs into him, so perhaps he could drink his fill on a nearby animal after getting a taste for the man.

Wyll had been told to stay back, Karlach insisting to come today and even playing a game of rock paper scissors over breakfast. Lae’zel had to be taught the rules, curious, and seemed disgruntled when she was beat as well. Wyll didn’t seem to mind staying back, but he followed Tar’eon with his functioning eye until they left. The devil man could use the alone time to get used to his new appearance he supposed, he still seemed fairly disgruntled about it, even if he didn't speak up.

The guards didn’t seem to care much the further they got in. Perhaps they found the bodies, perhaps they didn’t, but either way, who was to say it was their doing? There were no witnesses. They made sure of that.

Tar’eon made his way to the cage where the bear was and spoke to it in a growl, something low and rumbling. Astarion found his animal speak fascinating. Every morning, Tar’eon equipped it like he did his armour. Like he feared missing the opportunity to understand another creature.

His quiet words to the beast in the cage was noticed by the guard nearby though, and like they could smell the deceit in the air, they sprung onto them. Tar’eon launched away from the cage, out of the range of an arrow, snatching up a goblin child he bumped into, almost toppling the young girl with his sturdy frame. The bear rammed into the bars, sending it down with a loud crack as it dislodged from the walls.

He barely avoided the clang of metal himself, a tail winding around his waist and pulling him just out of its impact, a kick of dust coating his boots from the vibrating crash.

Astarion scowled and shoved his tail off as Tar’eon placed the child down and shoved them away from the fight, unsheathing his sword as an arrow sunk into his thigh. He bared his teeth and growled, yanking it out without a moments hesitation, charging and launching his blade into the nearest goblin, watching the creature fall.

He grabbed the hilt from its stomach and flicked the blood off as Shadowheart targeted another with a bolt of sacred flames. Astarion glanced off towards the child and saw them running towards the door. He gritted his teeth, scowling as he pulled his bow string back.

He knew better than to let little darlings escape him now.

“What are you doing?” Tar’eon snarled, looking furious at the very sight, standing between Astarion and the spawn like he had when that tielfing at the grove had tried to strike down the goblin prisoner.

“They’re getting help. I’m stopping them.” Astarion said cooly. “Do you want a whole hoarde of goblins in here?”

“Let them come. We aren’t hunting children.” Tar’eon looked past him with wide eyes, and Astarion turned to look at the body of another child that had been crushed by the gate.

“Not even your furry friend cares for such delicate casualties. Why should you?” Tar’eons jaw flexed and he glared at the bear.

“Because I refuse to be so careless.” He gritted out and charged back into the fray. Astarion clicked his tongue. Amazing. He was glad he stashed healing potions on him, because he’d need them.

The child escaped, but nobody came. There was quiet in the room once goblin blood was spilt across the floor, the only sound the heavy breathing of their leader and Karlach’s engine heart thrumming.

Shadowheart had barely broken a sweat. Astarion refused to let his exertion be known. He was the superior form after all.

The bear shifted in a flurry of light and a splatter of gore at their feet, but Tar’eon didn’t flinch away an inch, even when it got on his boots. Before them stood a man that may as well be a bear in the human form anyway.

“Pardon the viscera. One should cherish all of natures bounty, but…goblin guts are quite far down the list. You aided a bear without knowing if it would savage you?” The Druid seemed greatly amused by that. “A true friend of nature, or a lunatic.”

Tar’eon stared at the Druid a long moment before he did something that caught everyone by surprise.

He drew his hand back, and with pointed black nails, clawed into the man’s cheek, not seeming to care that they were almost of equal size. Halsin was barely a couple inches shorter than the tielfing, and similar in thickness. The pair were like sturdy trunks.

Halsin seemed just as caught off guard as the rest of them, because he staggered and held his cheek, a thin trail of blood slipping down his jaw. He had been aided by the party and now they were attacking him? Not drawing weapons though. Simply scratching him like they were both animalistic shifters.

Astarion watched, his eyes alight with approval. He had no idea why Tar’eon was doing this, but he was happy to see another Druid slain if he wished it.

Maybe he could get a taste while he was at it. Druid’s blood sounded favourable, if not a little on the green side. If anything, he was choosing to eat healthy!

He smirked at his own thoughts.

Tar’eon’s eyes were burning, looking like one of the devils others rumoured his people to be.

He snatched Halsin’s face, turning it towards the cage he’d been held in. Or more so, the small body beneath the bars of it.

“You’re supposed to be a healer. You are no better than Kagha.” Tar’eon said in a low, disappointed voice before letting him go. Halsin looked at the man with furrowed brows, looking confused.

“Kagha? What has she done in my absence?"

“So you left that Druid in charge. She tried to kill a tiefling child over a statue. We revealed her to be a Shadow Druid, and she did not wish to rectify her actions, so she faced the consequences. Are you all like this? So callous about your body count? Driving out innocents..."

"Says the man who just helped me slaughter a small group of goblins." Halsin countered and Tar'eon let out a small laugh, like Halsin was younger than him, like he lacked the wisdom he should have.

Like he was inferior.

"I kill men and women who know the consequences of a fight. Not children who are a part of conflict they did not ask for."

Tar'eon flexed his hand, looking at the skin and faint traces of blood beneath his claws. He stared a long moment, like he was almost tempted to...taste it? Astarion watched him closely, his expression, and saw the moment he seemed to come back to himself, that dark hunger fading, cleaning his claws against the fabric of his pants.

Tar'eon stared Halsin in the eye as he pointed to the door.

"Your job here is done. The people at the grove need you. We will end this war for you, since you seem to lack...the diplomacy needed for it."

Halsin didn't seem to have words to respond with for a long moment, looking lost. Tar'eon had managed to get under his skin, it seemed. Astarion smirked.

"Right, I...I could aid you. I apologise for...upsetting you after your help to free me. There are three leaders in this camp, and they must all be taken care of. Are you certain you can handle that alone?"

"My companions and I are more than capable. Tell Zevlor we should be back by morning. Don't get caught again, because I will not save you twice." The rumbling anger beneath his skin had to be the most attractive thing Astarion had seen in a long time.

What could he say? He was attracted to power, and Tar'eon was proving to be quite the powerful ally. Ally, being the keyword.

"Yes, do hurry. That small girl our dear leader let loose is sure to bring trouble to our door any moment now." Astarion smiled at Halsin, mocking him as he stepped forward and looked up at Tar'eon. "I do not say that lightly."

He took a potion from his pocket and took Tar'eons hand in his, palm up as he placed it there, curling his fingers around it.

"Drink up. We'll need that anger, darling." Astarion smirked and spared Halsin one last look before the man cleared his throat and bowed his head softly.

"I take my leave. Till dawn."

"Till dawn." Tar'eon nodded back, his eyes focused on the potion. He thumbed at the stopper and popped the cork off, shooting it back quickly and allowing the rush of healing swim down into his body, absorbing into the lining of his stomach and targeting his gashes, his aching muscles. It wasn't a complete fix, but he felt much better.

He tossed the bottle aside, approaching the corpse of the child as Halsin made his way towards the door, leaving the party alone in the room. Tar'eon grunted as he crouched and lifted the bars a couple inches, but it was heavy and it strained against the healing wounds on his back, threatening to rip them back open.

Astarion rolled his eyes and stepped forward, but Karlach beat him to it, giving a loud grunt as she lifted it off the young boys body, holding it up for Tar'eon who gave a grateful look, gently cradling the child's body to his chest.

There was no saving the child. Every bone in his body below the neck had been crushed. His skull would have been split open on impact if he hadn't started running. But that didn't save him. He wasn't breathing, and blood soaked his body. Astarion could see multiple splits in the skin from where bone tried to exit when broken.

"...You did the right thing. Telling that druid off. Don't beat yourself up, man. At least...at least you saved one of them." Karlach said softly, reaching out to touch his shoulder before she pulled back. Astarion wondered how it felt, having so much desire to comfort, to care, but being unable to touch. She couldn't even touch him now, when he needed it most.

"A child is still dead. I should have left him in that cage." Tar'eon muttered, standing with the child's broken body in his arm. Slowly, he moved towards the altar between the cages, stepping over the body of a worg to brushed the skull and knick knacks from the alter.

Gently, he placed the boy down, bunching the blue fabric beneath his head. If not for the blood and his glassy, bulging eyes, he'd look like he was resting.

Tar'eon placed his hands on the altar and hung his head, eyes closed. Shadowheart stepped closer.

"Are you...praying?" She asked, looking surprised. "I did not think you dedicated to such a thing."

"I'm not." Tar'eon raised his head, standing straighter and fishing out a rag to place gently over the boys eyes. He looked skywards and turned to the door, making his way to it, blade poised and ready for what faced them once they left the room.

"Who did you pray to?" Shadowheart asked, following after him. Astarion was curious himself. He did not worship any deity. Not many of them appreciated the undead, to be far, and he did not trust anyone to dictate his life after his treatment under Cazador. There were no merciful gods. That he knew.

He’d never tasted mercy once in his whole life.

Tar'eon took the handle of the door and paused, his body shrouded in shadows.

"...Ilmater. May he bless that child, and take on his pain, or give me his suffering tenfold before he is taken by Kelemvor to the afterlife." Tar'eon swung the door open and Astarion smirked as he pulled out his bow, trailing behind the others for the best position.

What a self sacrificial idiot.

Where was this idiot during my suffering, dearest deities? He thought bitterly and let his arrows fly.

****

Tar'eon was covered in blood. It soaked every inch of his body, and Astarion couldn't help but stare. It was certainly a look.

"The drow hasn't realised we're here? We just killed her priestess and her host. Why hasn't she come out yet?"

"Because she's waiting for us." Tar'eon said lowly. "She thinks she's above goblins. They're fodder if anything to buy time. Drows are prideful creatures. She's probably making sure she'll look good while she buries her blade into us."

Tar'eon suddenly stripped his torn armour off, the magic in the fabric long gone with how much damaged it sustained to keep him alive. His shirt went next. Astarion watched with interest, quirking a brow. Even Karlach gave him a glance, looking surprised, but it was the pleasant sort. Shadowheart tried to appear unaffected, but she was gawking just like the rest of them, just in a more dignified manner. Who could blame them? Astarion certainly couldn't. The man was all muscle, only looking more toned with the blood that shadowed the lines of his body. The only disappointing thing was the bandages wrapped his chest.

"I feel disgusting. If I'm walking into another fight, I'm getting comfortable." He looked tired, exhausted even, but there was no time to rest. Not now. It was all or nothing. The drow would probably slit their throats in their sleep if they tried to, or the goblins out on the terrace would finish them off as they tried to make their way back.

Tar'eon tossed the bloodied armour into a corner. He hadn't intended on killing every goblin they crossed, but they attacked first. Tar'eon didn't care if he died, but he refused to leave his companions a team member down in this fight. He placed his pack down and fished out his shirt from the night before. He slipped it on and cracked his neck.

"What? No armour? Against the big boss leading these goblins?" Astarion scoffed. Tar'eon chuckled.

"I trust our cleric to keep me alive."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that. I'm not sure I can handle much more healing, if I'm honest." Shadowheart looked weary, and even Astarion could see it. But they couldn't turn back now.

"We got this." Karlach assured the group, giving everyone an encouraging smile. "If you tap out, I'll just lop her head off with one swing!" She laughed.

Shadowheart looked endeared, eyes fond and grateful towards the female tiefling.

"You know, I almost believe you could."

"Almost? I total can, and will!" Karlach looked fired up once more, and Astarion huffed softly, crossing his arms. He'd admit, her cheer was rather infectious.

"Alright. Lets get this over with. I need a bath as soon as possible, or I'll stab someone."

"You've stabbed enough people already! That's why you need a bath." Karlach grinned and gave her battleaxe a little twirl. "Lets kill the drow and save the grove!"

"Lets save our people." Tar'eon agreed with a small smile and Karlach gave him one in return, something almost shy. Astarion bristled. Great. Now he had to compete against a fellow tiefling. Why couldn't Tar'eon be an elf or something? Then they'd have no obligation to be in this mess.

But nonetheless, the heroics had to continue. At least he could to kill things.

They made their way deeper, Astarion flanking as he usually did. Within moments, the floating eyes caught them, as well as two guards.

"I've been waiting." The drow woman smirked, standing tall and proud. "You want my head? I invite you to try and take it."

Tar'eon tipped his chin up at her.

"It's too bad you're a cultist. A drow would have completed the party." A fireball grew between his palms, whispering an incantation and setting it on one of the guards, knocking him into the chasm below before he unleashed his blade, turning to the floating eye, but Astarion struck it down first from an arrow. Tar'eon gave him an approving looking and turned back to the drow who sent a blast that Tar'eon only just missed, smacking into the ground at his feet, before he hid behind some shelves.

"Keep your distance. Something tells me it'll be to our advantage not to get close." Tar'eon ordered and Karlach groaned as she put her battleaxe away and pulled out a crossbow. Shadowheart summoned a bolt of light to strike Minthara, but she seemed to only shake it off, laughing as she sent another blast there way, knocking Shadowheart off her feet with a cry of surprise. Karlach whipped around to help her up, and Astarion watched as the drow pointed her next blast his way.

Shit.

He brought his bow up in hopes of at least getting her back in return, seeing as he had nowhere to hide himself. He could handle some holy light - it didn't hurt as much as it used to.

Except he mistook the colour of the magic, only noticing the orange glow as he released his arrow. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for searing pain, but it never came. No, instead of burning fire searing at his skin, he was knocked back by a heavy weight.

He groaned, looking up to find Tar'eon had taken the brunt of the attack.

"You idiot."

"I'm more flame resistant then you." Tar'eon chuckled roughly, obviously in pain regardless of his so called 'resistance'. Minthara's blast was much more powerful than his own.

"Your shirt isn't." Astarion muttered, anger burning low in his belly as Shadowheart sent another blast at the woman, but Minthara only healed herself a moment later. Karlach's arrow sunk into a goblin trying to swing at her. She stopped it in it's tracks with shot to the jugular, shoving it into the chasm below.

"Weak, the lot of you." Minthara smirked despite her last guard being killed as she made her way forward, across the bridge.

"I had hoped for better competition...Tell me where the grove is, and I might just let you live." Her hands glowed once more and Astarion stood to his feet.

"Wait your turn, under-elf." He sneered and pulled his bow back. But he wasn't aiming for her. No.

He released the arrow, specially intended to consume wherever it land in flames, and watched as it hit the bridge. Minthara turned, a daunting horror on her face. She could comprehend what was going to happen, but she had no time to escape.

It exploded on contact, and the bridge collapsed, sending her down into the depths below with an enraged scream of defeat.

Astarion smirked.

"She's back where she belongs. Our job here is done." Astarion had to jump back when Karlach went in for a bear hug of victory, shouting at her to save it for when she wouldn't burn him to a crisp. She pouted and Shadowheart chuckled.

"At least he said you can hug him. Just later." She teased and Astarion rolled his eyes. Whatever. If she managed to survive that burning engine of hers, then he would graciously allow her to hug him.

With their luck, it would hopefully never happen.

Astarion turned to Tar'eon to find him smiling at him, looking so...

He couldn't put an emotion to the expression. But it was light yet intense, and it made his undead heart do strange things.

It was almost as if Tar'eon was proud of him.

"Quit that. Take us back to camp so I can bathe already, would you? Only after my beauty sleep will I be bothered by more grateful devils like yourselves looking to deem us heroes." Astarion rolled his eyes at the very idea. Tar'eon chuckled and nodded. He seemed to know Astarion naming them ‘devils’ was more out of a reluctant fondness than prejudice.

"Alright." He got up with a groan, his white bed shirt burnt, laces charred to nothing and bandages singed. He made his way around the corner to his pack, his bloodied clothes thrown over one shoulder.

He offered his hand out to them, and they all reached for each other, eyes falling shut in tandem. They could all sepearently use the portals magic, sure, but Tar'eon seemed to have the strongest connection to its magic. Nobody needed to find themselves stranded again.

Yes, it was Karlach. And yes, it was hilarious when they finally managed to find her an hour later, banging on the sigil next to the crashed ship, whining with a locked out dog.

With a burst of ancient magic, Astarion was grateful to feel the breeze again, the forests early evening air caressing his skin, the sun starting its descent below the horizon. Pity. He hadn't even gotten to feel its shine today.

He soaked up the last tendrils of warmth before it disappeared, the others tending to their wounds or sharing stories. Wyll seemed disappointed that he missed out on the death of the drow, of the goblin leaders, but he was relieved to see them all come back alive. That was worth more than the glory of saving the grove.

With the sun gone, he moved towards the riverside, stripping down to nothing and sinking into the water. It was cold, but it was relaxing nonetheless. To be clean was better than anything right now. He closed his eyes and sunk beneath the waters surface, letting it envelop him. It was...good.

He opened his mouth and forced a scream out, silenced by the gentle rush of the stream.

His chest felt tight once it was out, opening his red eyes beneath the water. It stung softly, but he could make out grey shapes in the river. Plants moving, tiny fish swimming down stream, tadpoles little black dots in his vision as they traversed the river.

He owed him. Again. More and more and more; he was owing Tar'eon everything. He loathed it. The man was making him play hero when he was supposed to be the monster. He was risking his body for the sake of his own, a body that had died long ago and was only kept alive because of the bite Cazador bestowed upon him.

He defended his honour, his body; sustained and protected him, and Astarion hated that every step towards repaying the man in small ways was being overshadowed by his large bouts of heroism.

This would all be so much easier if he could manage to seduce the man. Yet every chance he got at trying, Tar’eon made the moment vulnerable. He hated it. Why didn’t anyone enjoy rough, meaningless sex anymore as a form of payment? Would sure make his life easier and less emotionally complicated.

He thought back to that look after the drow fell...he'd never been looked at like that before. With such earnest pride and affection. Tar'eon was not feeling prideful over one of his things, it was not pride in how well he had trained him, or twisted satisfaction over how obedient he was...

No, it was pure pride in him as an individual, in his own wit. That affection had not been a farce. It had been the look of someone who adored another's victory purely for their sake.

Astarion screamed again despite there being no air in his lungs, no sound from his lips. It was still a scream though, in ever sense of the word, eyes screwed shut and lips taunt over his gums, jaw stretched wide and fangs bared.

His eyes snapped open when he felt hands on him, inhaling water in his surprise and letting out a harsh cough as he was raised out of the water by his shoulders. Astarion whipped his head around to the attacker, ready to snarl, to bite and slash - he didn't need a weapon. Simply the refusal to give up.

His nails swiped across the eye of the large man before he realised who it was, eyes widening in shock.

Hells. This wasn't going to earn him any points, now was it? Clawing the tieflings eyes out.

"Argh!" He let go though, and Astarion sunk further into the water, putting distance between them and hiding his body beneath the darkness of the river.

"What is wrong with you? Sneaking up on me like that, are you insane?!" His throat and chest burned from inhaling the water, trying to stifle the urge to cough more or puke it back up, least he appear any weaker before the man.

"I'm sorry! Shit, I saw you go under and then you didn't come up, and I..." He wasn't even undressed, still in his clothes from the battle. No doubt he'd soaked his boots too, the idiot. Astarion softened his defensive stance slowly, but kept himself guarded.

"What? Did you think I'd drown or something? I'm a vampire! I don't even need to breathe, you fool."

Tar'eon moved his hand from his face, and Astarion was only a little relieved to see he only broke skin along his brow. It didn't look deep either. His eyes looked fine, small pink lines above and below his eye.

"But it's habit to do so, isn't it? And vampires can't cross running water so...I don't know." Tar'eon actually looked embarrassed for once. "I wasn't sure if you knew how to swim. I didn't want to risk it."

Astarion huffed, looking away as he sunk lower, water lapped around his shoulders.

"I...I apologise, for attacking you then. It appears my nerves are on end after today. Can you blame me?"

"No." Tar'eon sighed and ran a hand through his hair, dry with goblin blood.

"...Come join me. This river is big enough for two. Unless you're the one who can't swim." He smirked. Perhaps getting him naked first would make this whole thing easier. He had a decent body at the very least. It wouldn't be so awful.

"I think I can." Tar'eons shoulders sagged, looking much more relaxed at the offer. "I haven't tested it yet. But the water is shallow this end of the river." He chuckled and moved back towards the shore. Astarion watched from the waters like a kelpie, waiting for its next meal to enter the waters.

Tar'eon really had run in with his boots on. For the Gods sake, it was hard enough finding clothes that fit a man of his size this side of the coast.

Tar'eon stripped his shirt off, and for the first time, he seemed to inspect the damage and looked stricken.

"What? Realising you've run out of clean bed shirts and will have to bare the cold tonight, darling?" He chuckled. “I could be persuaded to share some…body heat, if you’d—“ He paused when Tar'eon pulled out a familiar envelope.

It was that tiefling child’s story. The one he read every night the past week...

It had taken the brunt of the blast it seemed, blackened and missing majority of its contents. Tar'eon slipped it out of the envelope and unfolded the parchment, watching it crumble in his hands.

Astarion had read it over his shoulder the first time he was presented with it. Even now, he could remember every messy stroke of the child's scrawl. He found himself slipping out of the water slowly, walking onto the land to stand beside him, glancing at what was left of the charred story.

‘adventurer

ammazeing

strong and safe

like the’

He'd taken a blast for him, and in doing so, Astarion had gotten his precious letter destroyed.

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

Shit, he actually felt…guilty.

He looked at the large man and found his eyes still on the letter, on the story of his first truly good deed. A selfless deed he could have walked away from. There wouldn't have been anyone to witness him leaving the boy to die to the harpies.

Despite those violent flickers, those moments of darkness, he really did have so much heart. What an idiot. To have such a hopeful heart in a cruel world.

"You'll see him tomorrow, I'm certain. Perhaps he can write you another. A story about how you saved your people from monsters." Astarion hesitated before squeezing his shoulder and moving to collect his clothes. He should leave the man alone with his thoughts. Astarion was no comforter. The only comfort he could give was with his body, and something told him that that was not the comfort Tar'eon sought tonight.

Tar'eon stared at his hands, at the charred letter that disappeared into nothing as the evening wind stole it from him. He fisted his hands and pressed the heels to his head. He fought the urge to cry.

Astarion had no idea. He had no idea how important that story was to him. It was what motivated him to kill the vile urges every time it tried to sink its claws into his mind, somehow more devious than the tadpole.

There was something wrong with him. Deeply, inherently wrong.

And he didn't know how to kill it.

He washed off and despite the destruction of the letter, he was delightfully surprised to find Alfira, a fellow bard, at their camp.

Someone to play music with...Every grand hero had a song about them, didn’t they? Now wouldn't that be nice, creating something with someone else. Occupying his mind so he didn't have to think about everything wrong inside it.

Perhaps they could make music together during their journey.

He couldn't wait.

#astarion x tav #astarion x mc #astarion bg3 #bg3 fic #bg3 oc #bg3 spoilers #bg3 astarion #bg3 durge #dark urge x astarion #astarion x male tav #astarion x dark urge #bg3 fanfiction

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wearepaladin · 1 year

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Anon from way back asking about characterization to play a NG Inquisitor of Cayden Cailean for Hell’s Rebels. An update and some story trauma:

DM allowed him to take the Liberation domain. Ex-Asmodean Story Trait: His “slave”-turned-brother was bled to death by their closeted Caydenite parents when forced to perform the Asmodean Obedience repeatedly on him for hours in an Inquisition raid on their home. They were looking for his uncle, who was out of town and had alleged ties to the Silver Raven rebel group. The shattered family was exiled from Kintargo anyway, but he stayed behind at the docks, pouring out his canteen as Caydenites do with ale when preparing to perform a difficult task.

Flash forward 17 years to the events of the campaign.

He’s a humble farrier running a one-man shop. Met this capable group in the right circumstances to form a rebellion. We just buried a small tielfing child, tortured and killed in the slums it seems and the group bonded over drinks talking about family and siblings in a bar after.. Needless to say, he quietly excused himself to take a breather for a bit before going back to babysit the sloppy drunk ones.

Just received word that we’ll have to save our Slayer’s younger brother from public excruciation for standing up for someone else… My inquisitor’s made up his mind to protect the Slayer’s family at any cost, because he’s not a child anymore and it’s time to stand up to House Thrune/the Asmodean theocracy. He’ll never get his family back, but if he can save someone else’s, it’s enough.

To save one life is to save the world entire. I'm glad this very cool concept is having a chance to flex its muscles.

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teslacoils-and-hubris · 10 months

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With artfight on the horizon I'm revamping an old tielfing I dumped there and never touched again and MAN am I having fun playing into the came back wrong troupe!

Rot is the result of illegal necromancy. Their first memory is of adventurers killing the necromancer that brought them back right after their reanimation. They had to figure everything out about life and being undead by themself. It's not going great for them. Rot cant keep on weight, they assume its part of being a walking corpse. With only vague dreams and occasional senses of deja vu, rot has no idea what their past life was like. They assume it must have been pretty fucked up for them to have ended up in the hands of a necromancer. They write off the dreams of a happy, warm cottage and a blurry stranger making them breakfast for dreams of an ideal life, one they don't consider themself worthy off, dirtied by the things they've had to do to survive.

Cherish lived a simple life. A small cottage with a garden and some chickens. They sold tea blends and the occasional herbal remedies. Their partner was a potter. They were happy with the small life in their small cottage. Life was good, they got by fine. Until Cherish got sick. Very sick. Looking like skin and bones within a month sick. They didn't deserve to die, but very few people do. Their partner was devastated when their grave had been dug up just days after rumors that an infamous necromancer on the run was heading towards their little village.

#doc rambles #my ocs

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honeyboyfelix · 1 year

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i am having a lot of thoughts rn so i need to write them you can look away if you want this is super fucking long asdfghjkl

imagine you are a tiefling. your mom is an elf and will surely outlive you and your entire family. you dad is also a tielfing. you are the oldest of 4 children. you live a happy 14 years as a relatively poor tinkerers child who has an affinity for magic your parents support with their whole hearts. but you are *poor* still so sending their child to magic school is not really in the cards. you are 14 when your dad disappears and is presumed dead. your mother falls apart in her grief understandably but unfortunately, your dad was the only one in the family with a job (your mother helped with that job but without him there is nothing to help). you are the oldest so you decide to use what little magic you know to help you make money performing street magic to provide for your family, your siblings who are like 7 and a year old (twin babies) obviously cant do that for themselves. you love your family and you would do anything for them but its hard to grow your skills when all youre doing is staying alive and thats how you live for the next 6 years. youre still struggling for money so you plan on going to this festival out of town to try and get your name out. on the way there you stop at a city that asks you (why you??????) and a group of people to find one of their people whove gone missing. on the way you all realize youre headed the same way so you might as well all travel together. you participate in the festival with these friendly weirdos, you get attached to people very quickly since you have abandonment issues and all of them are really really nice and one of them is even from your hometown!!!! you make it to the finals of the competition and the group youre up against is maybe not the nicest but your group is soooooo friendly that both groups decide to be good sports in the competition and not be sore losers if they lose. during said final round you guys pick up an artifact that gives the entire party a vision of a man trapped and desperate asking you to help him. you win the competition and your name will be forever remembered in that way but now you have bigger issues like wtf was up with that vision and the artifact????? your wizardly curiosity pulls you in. you find out the artifact is one of the most powerful artifact in the world blessed by not just one but three separate gods and the man from your vision must be their champion. this is a lot bigger than you,,,, you just wanted money,,,, but your new friends want to help this man and something pulls you along. you go to the cursed city (the city where demons come out of the walls every day in a never ending onslaught since the greatest war in the history of the world ended and reshaped history at you know it)

before you get to the city the cursed moon gives the entire party horrible warped memory nightmares that make you remember the last time you saw your father, the argument he and your mother had before he disappeared. you dont really wanna think about it. your mentor who taught you magic gives you her sword which is the last thing your father made before he disappeared. it feels very personal.

the inside of this city is awful and horrible and your entire party of lovable weirdos gets slammed again and again with darkness and despair but somehow you manage to come out of it relatively unscathed, you even gain a new friend!!! one you pulled from a deck of many things in a test to prove your worth!!!! (the themes of friendship triumphing never end btw) this new friend is a tinkerer JUST like your dad and even now your brother is a tinkerer too so he feels a little bit like home but also weird cause youre not used to people taking care of you its usually the other way around so you dont really know what to do with this new guy. the leader of this town who's trying to keep the demons at bay rewards you all by giving you his vacation home for free in the city you need to go to next in your journey.

when you get to the city the head curator of the library youre working with recognizes you immediately even though youre on a whole different continent and something in your stomach drops. he asks you what your parent's names are and a cold and ugly feeling settles in your stomach before telling him. he says nothing as he takes the group to the medical research facility and you see your father for the first time in years, passed out cold covered in angry red glowing crystals. the disease is uncurable and will kill him very soon, you found your dad again just to have him ripped away and warped beyond recognition and you are unable to do anything about it really. the other party members are shocked and upset by this but none more that the parties cleric who, unbeknownst to the rest of the group, instantly recognizes the exact scenario you are going through. you do what you do best and try to bury your feelings about the situation and tell no one about how youre feeling :) it worked at home why wouldnt it work here. the cleric tells you that no matter what they are going to do whatever it takes to find a cure so you dont go through their same fate and you trust your friends so much you believe him, youre determined now to get rid of this curse. in the process of investigating you get into a fight with some cursed statues (the big bad red curse,,,, you know the one) and you fuck up your attack so bad it hurts deep in your soul,,,, suddenly your hands have a red rash across them and you feel so so so tired. see the thing about the curse... it comes from this red crystal.... the same crystal your father had been working on tinkering with before he died.... the same crystal the hilt of your sword is made of :)

the only people who see that youre cursed are the party cleric and your knight (the new friend from the deck of many things you have complicated feelings about) so you decide the rest of them dont need to know :) you dont tell them about the sword either, you just start using a new one,,,, no one asks either thankfully! anyway the library finally gives you the next location so you can hopefully end these peoples (who you are now one of) suffering but there is one problem: an aboleth who believes he is the man from the vision that set this quest off is guarding the entrance to the place youre supposed to go. oh and also!! the rival party from the beginning of the quest? theyve been helping you guys out to and they went to check it out before you could warn them almost dying in the process so thats,,,, this mission is doomed from the start you swear.

despite all warnings, you go in the place where the entrance is trying to find a way in the entire party enters a fight with these cursed eels that intensely swallow you already at half health and you already think "oh god oh god were all gonna die and my family is gonna think i abandoned them just like my dad i cant die here not like this not so close" and somehow the entire party makes it out by the skin of their teeth and more than a little doubt in their hearts. this party doesnt know when to quit so you go in again to finally fight befriend the aboleth, this party is all about hope and kindness despite all the absolute hopelessness theyve been surrounded by for the past like 5 months you see, theyre first instinct is to reach out with both hands to their worst enemies and no matter how hard the world beats them down,,,, its worked every time. so of course it works this time almost instantly (with the help of the entire group and shit ton of magical buffs on one man, its called group effort sweetie uwu)

finally you get to go into the area this entire trip has been building up, what is essentially the magical prison of a cursed man forgot completely by the world. you are obviously not having a great time, the secrets youre keeping weigh heavy on you, you feel responsible for all of the mistakes youre party has made you also feel responsible for dragging an innocent man into this (the knight who is just like you, lonely and stubborn and intelligent and awkward) and the horrors TM are kinda setting in on you every minute since you saw your dad again but couldnt even talk to him,,,,, you are running out of time and now the cleric is also cursed which is just,,,,,, too poetic really. this was already personal for you both and now its you in their shoes and the cards stacked up in such a horrible way. but youre still alive, theres still a chance, we have to make it not just for your dad or all those other strangers or for yourself but your kind friends who have done nothing but help you,,,, they deserve to make it through this. so you power through

the dungeon is,,,, awful. every room is a memory from the cursed mans life where he watched the world beat down anyone who cared for him, his parents almost killed for simply having him, the civilians he tried to protect dying because he is one man who makes mistakes, the army he commands falling in a never-ending war no matter how many battles he one the next would just bring more loss, he was cursed,,,, because everyone believed he was cursed but all you see is someone who is like you and your friends who should have been givin a chance at a better life.

his memories crush you under their weight -literally- they pin you to the floor and wont let you up and your magic is failing you. worst of all its getting your friends too and you can do nothing to help while youre still trapped like this. the knight (who the entire party agrees is somewho the best of all of you) is the first one to break free from the spell, you dont know what did it specifically but he turns to you first urging you to get up and fight the voices in your head trying to bring you down. the cursed man speaks in your head, your loved ones speak in there too, telling you to just give up to let go and surrender that the fight isnt worth it but you are so close you cant end up like your dad where the last conversation you had was a yelling match about why youd left you have to make it back,,,, so you do, you get up and you get your friends up too. because this group doesnt let people fqall into nihilism and obviously all of you still have your problems, no one is perfect, but its worth trying. its always worth the fight

#sorry this is long #long post #i just had a lot of feelings like my chest feels like bursting tbh #like literally tho after that fight with the entropy trap i was looking thru my character sheet #in the characteristic part which i fill out for this exact reason #is all shit like 'would do anything for family . loves family with entire heart. flaw: gets too attached to people way too quickly #like oh my goooooooooood this kind of angst was built specifically for me asdfghjkl #sam plays dnd #i wasnt even using my highest checks for the fight asdfghj like i coulda tried to break free using logic and reason #but i was like.... idk would they?????? like i designed this highly empathetic wizard.... i think they would try to fight thru shear will #chich is a charisma save in mechanical sense chich... is their second highest score #i wanted to spit in the face of all those academic is my entire life kinds of wizards #this wizards got..... just so many feelings guys #i tried to add a read more but its 3 am and im basically fever writing this after my nap so i couldnt figure it out

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rottenbrainstuff · 3 months

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BG3 playthrough - completely finished under Moonrise

Wow, oh wow.

From the top: first we had fight #1 with Ketheric. I made sure not to kill Kar’niss earlier because I thought I’d have an opportunity to talk to him on the roof, but nope! We just jumped straight into fight #1, and then he was just a large extra hassle to deal with. I felt SO bad killing him, because I had to incapacitate him somehow, and my bard has really good fear spells so that’s normally what I use. It felt really crummy making this poor guy cower while I slowly chop him down. Sigh. (hey what comes out of those incubating death rock egg things? I was too scared to see and killed them all immediately)

Man. I couldn’t stop staring at Ketheric’s eyes though. Even on lower rendering settings, you can see they clearly spent a TON of effort on his eyes specifically. Man, guys. You must have had a special task team that worked for months just specifically on rendering his wrinkles, and the glassy rheumy effect of his eyes. Holy shit. It’s such a cool direction to take, set up your baddie as this awful, ruthless general with all the battle remains and the chilling letters, make him creepy as fuck with the goblin and the axe demonstration, then also put a shitton of effort into making him also just a really really sad really really old man. I love it.

Then after that: wading through the mindflayer colony. Online says that the companions who have extra dialogue or cutscenes in here are Wyll, Gale, and Karlach, but :( :( :( that leaves no room for Astarion? I decided to not have Karlach. Sorry babe. And anyways, without Astarion, who else is going to take out poor old Chop in one single merciful blow?

I rescued Zevlor from the pods, thank god, thank GOD finally. (hilarious to see his tail poking out the back there) My tav has been upset about him for weeks here. Goddamn, poor guy, he’s been thralled by the Absolute but doesn’t care what you tell him, he puts the blame on himself. Even when you tell him it’s not his fault he was enthralled, he still says that that might be true, but whatever the Absolute does, it starts with something that’s already inside you. Buddy, my buddy. And they programmed so many different ways to get angry with him and blame him. Why? Why do you even want to blame this poor guy who is already blaming himself more than you ever could? I mean at best he was enthralled and couldn’t help it, but at worst he just made a bad decision that he honestly and immediately regretted entirely and was disgusted by. Leave this poor old man alone. He won’t even get angry if you pick the most aggressive and mean dialogue options, he just agrees. Sigh. Back with the other tieflings, you can mention to Cerys that you found Zevlor, and she will just be angry at him for letting them down when they needed him. And I mean. Yes that’s valid but damn it makes me sad. Poor sad old man. Anyways he leveled up in the time we were away, and he is a mean fighter now! Nice! I wish he could have stuck around longer. That was an awfully short conversation, for as much as it was all built up, with all the other tielfings mentioning how angry at him they were! Is this REALLY the only interaction we have with him now until act 3???

DAYUM this area is shitty for a resisting dark urge. So many lovely horrible things down here. Wow. My poor tav, he needs a big long rest to process all of this, but after you’re done everyone wants to talk and there’s a big old cutscene coming up. Poor guy, no rest for you.

THE MIND JARS: wow ok. So at the very beginning of the game, you found those two green brain jars on the nautiloid. Hopefully you stuck them in your storage, or maybe you thought they were useless and you just sold them. EIther way, I’m pretty sure it didn’t occur to you to bring them with you when you went into the Moonrise pit? Why WOULD you think to bring them? It’s too bad if you didn’t, because in this area is the only machine in the game that lets you use these jars, and once you find the machine and realize what it’s for, you can’t travel back to your trunk to get them, and you ALSO won’t be able to return later on. So. Tough luck. Me, I was travelling with my team of 8 str weenies, and every mind jar I found, I sent straight to my camp! Why wouldn’t I? These guys can’t weigh themselves down with extra shit! By the time I found the machine and realized what it did, there was only one jar left in my inventory that I didn’t send back to camp.

I suppose the jars maybe are supposed to be a fun little easter egg for players who go back and play again. Too bad I’m very willing to reload and redo things for hours and hours lmao. I reloaded just a couple hours and this time brought all the jars with me. Thanks, I hate it! What a horrible and disturbing little touch. Yay. Was my least favourite the child mind, or was it the spooky singing one? Hard to say!

I was shitting my pants when Ketheric turned into the Myrkul apostle form, cause it looked scary, but damn? We just all slammed it a few times and it was totally fine? Very very cool boss though. I loved the little skeletons sitting on his shoulder with the flails. Goddamn Ketheric stayed sad right until the end huh? Driven to do horrible things in a misguided attempt to help his daughter, forsaken by three different gods, and his last dying thought and words were of Isobel. I fucking lost it when I found the little note that he keeps on him. Excellent writing Larian, excellent job of making your good guys flawed and your bad guys sad. Man I love it.

Now I have a shitton of talking and cutscenes to wade through to get to act 3. I absolutely ADORE how when the guardian talks about the elder brain, it is just ever so slightly the wrong reaction, lmao. I love how instead of being just generally horrified that there’s an elder brain there at all, it seems to be really, really indignant that mortals are controlling it. “I mean yes hey let’s go save the people of Baldur’s Gate from being turned into mindflayers, but the audacity! The audacity of putting an elder brain in thrall!” and my tav is like hmmm I feel like that’s an… unusual reaction to this situation….

Astarion is absolutely preening after the fight, saying that he never thought he’d be the one defeating the shadows. Yeah see buddy, it feels good sometimes to play the hero, doesn’t it?

Man, my party is enormous now because of all the summons I have walking around with me. I currently have Scratch, three quasits, a shadow wraith thingamajig, an earth elemental (which oh man I absolutely love) and now, the latest addition, a cambion. The cambion is hilarious. It’s a totally sentient and intelligent thing, but I can’t talk to it at all. I imagine it’s pissed off at being summoned here away from its dinner to do boring bullshit errands for this group of wankers, so it just totally and completely ignores me.

Off to act 3 now! Can’t believe I’m in the final act of the game! Can anyone tell me where I can get my own tall, hot, and intensely devoted aasimar girlfriend?

#bg3 #bg3 playthrough #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 spoilers

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