unsoundnovel
UNSOUND NOVEL.
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....No?
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plotting call! ; ) i specifically wanna mix shit up with the iron bull aka tibs aka tibby, dorian, and minthara!
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—bit morbid, isn't it?
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LESTAT + tags on this video (part 2 · part 3)
Interview with the Vampire (2022)
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card of keys. sender picks a lock to help the receiver escape. //for iron bull~
"You're embarrassing me in front of my men," The Bull tuts, voice rough as it is warm, a secondhand worn leather belt around the waist with pock marks from age and use, inviting even as he admonishes her and them both. And yet he leans his forehead gentle, near reverent against the bars of the cage anyway, idly watches her fingers twirl and poke the lockpick into the key. They almost blur, how many fingers does she have, a dark orange nickelodeon in the light, five cents for five little moving pictures layered on top of each other, swirling. Five, four, seven, nine, ten? What a shitty spy The Iron Bull makes. His people weep, he smiles deeper and drunker, grey cheeks creasing further still, both a cat and curdled cream at the thought.
The bars are moist with dew and sweat and cool to the touch against the low, damp heat of the torches on the wall. It was a beautiful, raucous summer night, when they were all arrested for indecency. He can still hear the crickets, still hear the echoes of the Whistle’s music and stomping boots and his own loud crooning in wicked foreign tongues in the insects' loud leg violining calling them outside. Bull's chest is soft and relaxed as he slouches forward. His skin only pricks awake when he gently hefts his whole weight in her direction, his perpetual lazy swagger. It's a gesture that shows more exhaustion than he feels. But he always feels tired. He's not half the man he used to be, anymore.
"We had a plan, you know."
Drunken Chargers peek open an eye from under or over their arms on the ground. Some have formed a neat, ritual-sacrifice circle star of heads on thighs or ale-round stomachs. Others just slump back, dead to the world as they snore and slurp wet drool spittle down flushed cheeks, backs against the wall, feet splayed in front, heads somewhere vaguely in the messy dreamland in between.
"Cell's cheaper than an inn. Some of em smell better, too."
Bull scratches the tip of his horn against the metal bars like an antler against tree bark, a blade against whetstone, his eye flickering over to the real target, here, a Tal-Vashoth "mercenary" who knows too much.
The young man, no more than twenty, with big, soft, wet eyes, and scarred and mangled flesh around his broken horn nubs, looks at him, wide-eyed with fear, his top-skinny arms around his trembling knees, shaking, the silent hiccups down the streak of tears making him seem to jolt and reverb like popcorn popped. He pissed himself hours ago, and he reeks of that and anxiety sweat. Of course, that smell could just be one of The Chargers. They could all use a good bath after all this.
When the kid blinks, its like flinching, like he's slapping himself to stay awake, and the tears just keep flowing, silent wave after silent wave that could make the ocean jealous in their grey eternity. Bull wonders if the kid wants to be dead. Bull wonders if he wants to kill him. But that's a story for the morning.
The Bull sticks a finger out between the bars. He hasn't decided if he wants to leave yet. This makes their plan a little messy. It'd be easier just to tell her to leave, that they planned to leave on their own time after….
His finger puckers towards the boy, a sour lemon squeeze. "You gonna help my little buddy out, too?" He grins at him.
The kid gasps and kicks himself, squirming, crawling to the back of the cell.
There is…. Probably more afoot here than the ex-warden commander knows.
Things just got a lot more complicated for them both.
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Minthara is such a Handsome woman. Like a woman that is also a husband. Femalehusband.....
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* ☔ : action prompts inspired by FANTASY, NOBILITY, ETC. some prompts are usfw. add reversed for the muse receiving the meme to perform the action instead. ( adjust scenarios or specify details as needed. )
crown of dawn. sender swears their fealty to the receiver.
crown of silver. sender congratulates the receiver on their political engagement, hiding their true affection for the receiver.
crown of midnight. sender dances with the receiver at a masquerade.
crown of glass. sender meets the receiver while their true identity is concealed.
crown of shadows. sender controls the receiver through magic or blackmail, making them their pawn so they can rule from the background.
crown of ink. sender meets the receiver for the first time after they are joined in an arranged marriage.
crown of starlight. sender kneels before the receiver to receive a boon.
crown of rot. sender accuses the receiver of failing their people.
crown of sorrow. sender tells the receiver they are the new lord/queen/etc. as those ahead of them in the line of succession have died.
crown of blood. sender stands before the receiver to be judged for their crimes.
crown of lies. sender accuses the receiver of not being the true heir.
crown of thorns. sender crowns the receiver after killing the previous ruler.
crown of nightshade. sender consumes a poisoned drink meant for the receiver.
---
wand of bone. sender uses necromancy to raise the receiver's companions from to dead to aid the sender in fighting against the receiver.
wand of ivy. sender ensnares the receiver in a net of living vines.
wand of twilight. sender conjures the spirit of the receiver from the land of the dead to speak with them.
wand of clouds. sender infiltrates the receiver's dreams to learn their desires.
wand of portals. sender summons the receiver to their world.
wand of resurrection. sender brings the receiver back to life.
wand of memory. sender clouds the receiver's mind so they don't leave.
wand of blossoms. sender grows flowers in the receiver's hair.
wand of salt. sender heals the receiver's wounds.
wand of leaves. sender asks the receiver to read their fortune.
wand of lightning. sender conjures a storm to impede the receiver.
wand of masks. sender crosses paths with the receiver while disguised as them.
wand of flesh. sender wounds the receiver to fuel their blood magic.
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sword of honor. sender challenges the receiver to a duel to decide an argument.
sword of moons. sender wakes up to discover the receiver pressing a blade against the sender's throat.
sword of sacrifice. sender takes a deadly attack meant for the receiver.
sword of wrath. sender kills the receiver's loved one(s) as they watch.
sword of loyalty. sender executes someone at the receiver's command.
sword of blessings. sender asks the receiver to bless their weapon before battle.
sword of madness. sender tries to stop the receiver's bloodthirsty rage.
sword of ruin. sender tortures the receiver for information.
sword of defeat. sender surrenders to the receiver after a hard-fought battle.
sword of ash. sender asks the receiver to kill them for failing the receiver.
sword of spite. sender twists their weapon deeper into the receiver's wound.
sword of wind. sender quickly kills an enemy before they attack the receiver.
sword of betrayal. sender stabs the receiver in the back.
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card of misfortune. sender catches the receiver trying to pick their pocket.
card of coins. sender buys the receiver a drink at a tavern.
card of vipers. sender meets the receiver in a thieves' den.
card of fools. sender finds the receiver caught in a trap, magical or otherwise.
card of iron. sender recognizes the receiver from a wanted poster.
card of vultures. sender is caught looting a dead body by the receiver.
card of songs. sender asks a bard to sing a ballad about the receiver.
card of keys. sender picks a lock to help the receiver escape.
card of winter. sender finds the receiver dying of frostbite and gathers them in their arms to warm them.
card of dust. sender finds the receiver asleep over a book and wakes them.
card of stars. sender keeps the receiver company during first watch at camp.
card of crows. sender warns the receiver they're being followed but that the sender can protect them—for a fee.
card of twine. sender stitches a wound shut for the receiver.
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heart of virtue. sender presses a kiss to the back of the receiver's hand.
heart of devotion. sender slips their signet ring onto the receiver's finger.
heart of roses. sender gives the receiver a token of their favor before a tourney.
heart of thrones. sender kneels before the receiver to pleasure them.
heart of destiny. sender tells the receiver they are fated or reincarnated lovers.
heart of honey. sender intimately feeds the receiver by hand.
heart of darkness. sender cloaks themselves and the receiver in shadows so they can kiss in public.
heart of stone. sender asks the receiver to be their lover as they can't marry.
heart of gold. sender renounces their title to be with the receiver.
heart of wolves. sender intimately licks blood from the receiver's body.
heart of knives. sender cuts the clothes from the receiver's body, unable to wait.
heart of dusk. sender meets the receiver in secret to be together.
heart of embers. sender initiates intimacy to keep the receiver warm.
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* ☔ : action prompts inspired by GOTHIC HORROR, DARK ACADEMIA, ETC. some prompts are usfw. add reversed for the muse receiving the meme to perform the action instead. ( adjust scenarios or specify details as needed. )
𝟶𝟷. sender sets a church on fire with the receiver still inside.
𝟶𝟸. sender presses a holy symbol into the receiver's flesh, burning them.
𝟶𝟹. sender declares themselves god to the receiver.
𝟶𝟺. sender begs the receiver for a blessing/prayer before night falls.
𝟶𝟻. sender licks their lips and tells the receiver to confess their sins.
𝟶𝟼. sender takes refuge from a storm with the receiver in an abandoned church.
𝟶𝟽. sender snarls at the receiver, unable to cross the threshold/onto holy ground.
𝟶𝟾. sender laughs, breaking a seal, ward, etc. set by the receiver to keep them out.
𝟶𝟿. sender recites a prayer with the receiver as the shadows darken and writhe.
𝟷𝟶. sender burns the receiver's holy oath away as they pledge themselves to the sender instead.
𝟷𝟷. sender practices calligraphy on the receiver's skin.
𝟷𝟸. sender refuses to speak with the receiver unless it's in a dead language.
𝟷𝟹. sender taps on the windowpane of a café from outside, alerting the receiver.
𝟷𝟺. sender leans over the receiver's writing and makes a noise of disagreement.
𝟷𝟻. sender intimately washes ink from the receiver's hands.
𝟷𝟼. sender worries over the receiver, who has not slept in days.
𝟷𝟽. sender hands the receiver coffee, having learned their favorite without asking.
𝟷𝟾. sender presses the receiver against a bookshelf, needing them now.
𝟷𝟿. sender kisses the receiver in a museum after it's closed.
𝟸𝟶. sender breathes on the receiver's neck as they pick a lock to the secret archives.
𝟸𝟷. sender bites into the receiver's (neck, thigh, etc.) and drinks their blood.
𝟸𝟸. sender's experiment succeeds and brings the receiver back to life.
𝟸𝟹. sender makes an offering at a crossroads to summon the receiver for a deal.
𝟸𝟺. sender digs themselves out from their grave as the receiver reacts in horror.
𝟸𝟻. sender kisses the receiver for a final time, in case their experiment goes wrong.
𝟸𝟼. sender confesses to the receiver that they've promised their firstborn in a deal.
𝟸𝟽. sender cuts their palm and the receiver's to swear a blood oath.
𝟸𝟾. sender forces the receiver to drink their latest alchemical creation.
𝟸𝟿. sender wakes up confused, having been turned into a vampire by the receiver.
𝟹𝟶. sender signs away their soul to the receiver in exchange for a boon.
𝟹𝟷. sender acts out an ancient ritual, with the receiver standing in as the sacrifice.
𝟹𝟸. sender burns the only copy of the receiver's thesis, book, etc.
𝟹𝟹. sender pours wine into the receiver's mouth as the bacchic party grows louder.
𝟹𝟺. sender confesses to the receiver that their parents have cut them off.
𝟹𝟻. sender and receiver try to wash the blood away, but the stain keeps growing.
𝟹𝟼. sender slips their hand under the receiver's clothes in the dark of the opera box.
𝟹𝟽. sender aims an arrow at the receiver and promises they won't hit them.
𝟹𝟾. sender complains to the receiver that a funeral will distract them from studying.
𝟹𝟿. sender dismisses the receiver's concerns that the summoning ritual may work.
𝟺𝟶. sender screams for help as the receiver begins to go mad from reciting the esoteric chant they discovered in a forgotten book.
𝟺𝟷. sender screams at the sight of the receiver's true face/form.
𝟺𝟸. sender offers to hide the receiver as the mob's torches grow nearer.
𝟺𝟹. sender is mesmerized by the receiver and goes to them despite all warnings.
𝟺𝟺. sender is stone-faced as the receiver cries that their lover is no monster.
𝟺𝟻. sender sharpens their blade as the receiver watches in horror.
𝟺𝟼. sender weeps as the receiver tells them they're leaving for the sender's good.
𝟺𝟽. sender proposes to the receiver to provide an alibi for the receiver's pregnancy, even though the child is not theirs.
𝟺𝟾. sender holds the receiver in their arms, the monster now dead.
𝟺𝟿. sender promises not to forget the receiver as they share a final night together.
𝟻𝟶. sender visits the receiver in dreams as they are separated by class, circumstance, etc. in waking life.
𝟻𝟷. sender calls out to the receiver from a distance, their voice echoing in the mist.
𝟻𝟸. sender covers the receiver's mouth as their stalker draws nearer.
𝟻𝟹. sender tells the receiver not to open their eyes until they've escaped the house.
𝟻𝟺. sender kisses the receiver passionately in the middle of a graveyard.
𝟻𝟻. sender tries to light a candle to comfort the receiver, but the flame turns black.
𝟻𝟼. sender locks all the windows and doors, promising the receiver they'll be safe.
𝟻𝟽. sender takes off their jacket and puts it around the receiver's shoulders.
𝟻𝟾. sender reaches out for the receiver's hand in the dark.
𝟻𝟿. sender finds the receiver abandoned for dead.
𝟼𝟶. sender grows confused as they cannot see the will-o'-the-wisps the receiver has begun to follow into the night.
𝟼𝟷. sender's laughter echoes through the halls as they stalk the receiver.
𝟼𝟸. sender lavishes praise upon the receiver's beauty, enraptured by the fresh blood seeping through the receiver's white dress, shirt, etc.
𝟼𝟹. sender catches the receiver snooping and tells them they've been bad.
𝟼𝟺. sender slumps to the floor, realizing the receiver has poisoned them.
𝟼𝟻. sender blindfolds the receiver, promising it's for their own good.
𝟼𝟼. sender locks the receiver in the attic, promising it's for their own good.
𝟼𝟽. sender sings a haunting lullaby to the receiver from the walls.
𝟼𝟾. sender looks in a mirror, unaware the receiver is watching from the other side.
𝟼𝟿. sender sighs, realizing the receiver has found the painting of their former lover—who is identical to the receiver.
𝟽𝟶. sender asks the receiver to swear upon their life that they will not enter the sender's private study, no matter what they hear inside.
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If I decide to add karlach here just to ship with @laceratiio mind ur business. Mind ur goddamn business
#ooc#i genuinely think i could write every character ever. and be so good at them#SORRY for being talented and loving GNC BISEXUALS
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everything in dnd exists as it does for carefully laid reasons. most gods are not senseless, and even if they are cruel or unkind—they exist too for a perpetual balance
evil things have to happen for the balance to be maintained between every perpetual war of immortals and conceptual forces. people have to be used as pawns. if a god dies—a structure of the universe is broken and must be remade from that gods pieces
mortals cant understand gods the way a chess piece is incapable of understanding why it moves across the table, why a cat hates going to the vet, why any reasonable person hates going to the dentist
the gods and the immortals and their wars make up the bones and muscle and blood of the universe. player characters are mere skin to shed for greater purposes and machinations only gods can understand
the universe is a deeply broken, beaten thing. its heart is slow and it palpitates and hiccups in sleep apnea. and yet the gods must wake it and bathe it and care for it.
do you not pity your mother? she has needs, she has wants, she has a job, like you now have a job, and yet she cared for you when other gods did not. perhaps she lost you in the store. she was buying groceries for the family, she has to cook you breakfast, lunch, dinner, snacks, every single day, and make sure they are healthy for you. and you strayed because you were entranced by the puzzle on the back of a lucky charms box. is it her fault she forgot you in her haste to check out? she came back for you, didn’t she? the immortals always come back, and are never really far or out of sight.
are the gods fair? no. life’s not fair. it’s not fair to them either. would you blow the whole world to smithereens. kill every god? what’s left, then? what’s left of the world? if there is no god—what happens when you die?
without balance, without gods—there is only oblivion. wouldn’t you rather gods be cruel and uncaring than simply stop existing? this world is too beautiful, too beautiful to end
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Hello! Give this a like/reblog if interested in interacting with a video game multi featuring muses from dragon age: (Dorian, the iron bull, isabela), bg3 (minthara, lae'zel), and final fantasy (barret, gladio) ?
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MINTHARA, SPEECH PATTERNS pre and post tadpole, DROW LANGUAGE.
minthara knows more than a few languages, but the ones nearest and dearest to heart are those of her people—the specialized drow sign language all of her ppl use to be able to hear any sign of enemies n keep from alerting other drow or predators to their location. common drow—which she speaks almost disdainfully, with short, clipped sentences as orders to those beneath het. and finally, high drow—which is reserved only for nobles such as herself n high priestesses.
high drow is often referred to as the language of spiders and snakes. vowels are hushed, rich, deep tones, consonants are hot huffs, with only qs, js and ts really cutting through ughs ands uus and eas, and ees, and haas, and is spoken in slow, lanuguid, carefully chosen iambic pantameter. their wizards are called “snake chanters” by their slaves. drow of all classes often use sounds like cat chattering from the back of their throat/the front of their teeth to signal basically the sfx of a spider’s leg crawl in a cartoon. if you hear the clicking, shit is abt to go down, n its a sign from somebody to watch out or run.
drow typically learn modern “common” customs from those they enslave or pillage from, as well as their network of surface spies. modern surface spues typically become teachers in their elder years. often, drow are out of date on what the surface is like by hundreds of years, and bc of this, there speech is always more formal.
due to the vowel/breath heavy, tongue muscle memory of drow, common comes almost too easily, except that drow often go hard on those consonants to express dominance and further mastery to make up for the lacj of it in their own language.
high drow is literally a secret spoken between “sisters.” common, for all people, is something most drow despise. and yet, there is a beauty to the way it deepens their voices, makes them louder and more brash, the way words can be ordered so quickly and punctuated so properly.
common poetry is a fun party trick. like being able to sing opera for a stadium. often noble girls amuse themselves with dirty common limericks no human could remember even their grandparents ever saying, like high schoolers amusing themselves with teaching each other curse words in other languages. the louder they get, as if playing the “ penis” yelling game—the more likely they are to be scolded and punished. but even drow have fun!
minthara often enchanted lovers with her low, deep voice and poetry. she finds a fascination with the double meaning and entendree of common. she loves their metaphors, it reminds her more of their sign language and dance than high drow does, which has so many rules and layers so ancient, it can sometimes be restricting, especially when spoken near an elder, and sometimes the double meanings ate so hidden behind age that the meaning of sayings from the dawn of time seem meaningless to minthara, even devout as she claimed to be,
(minthara’s mother would hit her when she caught her using common with her schoolyard crushes to impress them. it made double down deeper in private.)
in general, minthara speaks common with confidence—but without the absolute’s chaotic influence freeing her from self-influcted rules and restrictions, minthara keeps herself to her confident, low drawl, making sure not to burden her words with too much emotion, and yet speak with all the intention and practice her drow upbringing AND secret queer parlor trick language requires.
it really is an alto ballad coming from her
it’s funny because i think the absolute unleashes and frees her, in a way. she would still have killed the grove, even if it wad cruel, if she wanted to. it would have been pointless at the time, but she can see reasons why one would do it, (they are weak, they are unable to fend for themselves, they are burdens, etc.)
but she WANTS structure and order and intention, and more than that, the structure, order, and intention that she herself provides for herself beyond gods and politics beneath her. i think common appeals to that, bc she would like to Rule All, not just drow.
also, im thinking about drow masculinity vs femininity and if they could even have butchness except as a performance of female knighthood/strength/semi-subverience to noble women in the guise of a service role of masculine strength. like it would be different than butchness, but also it would kind of be butchness…. but also minthara is a paladin… so a knight… and she “instructs you”….. idk, she has a very kind of butch bisexual energy to her, lets not lie, n whats better than this, a drow woman who doesnt want to habe kuss, who hates her mother and female god, but still wants to dom and 69 you. nothing….
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minthara doodles
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@storystrung [ THE MIDDLEST BROTHER. ]
"What if I told you…." Hawke twists his feet beneath the table, toes in and out, ankles piroutting, a ballet as his hand and neck instead twist and roll and shake, silly, more like a modern dancer.
"That I am in love." This is true.
"For the first time." This is NOT true. Bubbles has fallen for every handsome man that has ever looked at him. Most did not share his interest. Others did, but not his kindness. Bubbles has gotten hurt before. And yet he still reaches out with flirtations like candy, blowing bubbles with soap foam scooped to his mouth in the tub like when they were kids.
"The way he moves me, Hawkey. He threatens to rip out my heart with a glance!"
Toes tap, he swoons on to the table dramatically, just to crane up his neck and start sipping again at his favorite ale---the cheapest on tap, of course.
"But… the whole mage… thing. I'm hardly a mage. More of a magician, really. You're more of a mage, the way you pop up from the shadows with your little potions and brews, you fancy schmancy alchemist, you. And yet…"
"I do not want to hurt him. Or scare him off. With my scary, scary sparkle fingers."
Fenris is not the first handsome man Bubbles has fallen for that did not like magic. The first was another little boy when they were young— to whom Bubbles thought he could teach a magic trick. He ran to his parents, who would have ran to the nearest templar if not for Malcolm's convincing. The disappointment of his parents and siblings was all he needed to keep his magic to himself from then on.
Only using it for trouble, training, secret secret art projects---or when Adrien said it was okay.
"Do you think it would be…. Okay? If I… continued to express…. Interest…. Affection…." Hawke falls flat on his face on the table, drunk, silly, the goofiest guy. "Undying love?"
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@silksworn [ impressions. ]
Minthara sets her jaw and bites down hard on her back teeth. And yet her lips trill even in their silence, the crinkle of her cheeks an agonizingly slow song as her mouth dances and twirls into an easy, soft and vicious smile. Her face is cold, the way the Matron Mother taught her. And her thoughts are quiet, blanketed in snow, the way the Matron Mother's mindflayer lover taught her. (Even now, he haunts her.)
"Do you ever tire of your hysterics, Banshee? You were once so precise and composed. You acted with grace and foresight, as you meddled and muddied my mind with sly but strong machinations beyond me. I envied your gifts. Now I own my own. Will you dance with me, the way we used to dance?"
Though the desire to stab Iraestra is as strong as ever, instead Minthara stabs out with a tentacle of thought. Authority. Power. A knife to the brain stem. A wet tendril slap to the proverbial cheek, that errs towards the nostril, a sticky sickly feeling as it slimes its cool, dripping way towards the world's squishiest octopus lobotomy.
The thought she brings with her, pulsates into her, over and over again, the soft, loud pound of the thick soft hide of a warm drum like a nauseating heart palpitation, and twice as thick in your chest with dread----is simple.
You wanted me. You wanted me. Memories of illusions shared while dancing. While eating the most succulent dinners, while sipping, tasting the most derelict, delicious bloodwines.
The way Iraestra laid into her thoughts of laying her. The push and pull of drunk, dizzy wet dreams. The clench around nothing. Wanting her fingers.
Would you like my fingers now? A cacophony of hands, hands, hands, intrusive thoughts of hands, pressing, caressing, palms and knuckles and joints, slick and blue, a kaleidoscope of infrared insanity, as each one closes around a knife and stabs.
Blood drips, staining, swirling, blooming not like roses but like their favorite fungi, Jack o lantern mushroom growing from death and mold at an Oak's root. And the vision goes quiet, except for eight cracked glass spider eyes fixated on Iraestra and her tongue, as she sips from the goblet in front of her, and places it down, to stare, to laugh, horrific, vile, a bulging beast, worse than any insult, ugly, she pops into her own cackling screech, white, white, hot, the smell of Iraestra's perfume vomiting upon itself, every sense twisting unrecognizable.
"I have learned a trick or two myself."
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starter call? like perhaps for a starter?
specify muse or i will just go with one of the muses you smashed the like on on their interaction post!
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DORIAN PAVUS: BG3 VERSE.
human necromancer, son to a secret society of bane cultists in waterdeep, who call themselves “the venatori.”
if interested in interacting with this character in this verse, give a like!
dorian’s father was not the leader of the venatori, per se, but he was certainly one of its greatest sponsors. as a child, dorian watched as strange people and creatures from all walks of life came into their estate—and warched, ever more curious and warily, as certain people, the poor chief among them, did not walk out, or walked out… changed. it was an average occurrence, and yet, the older he got, the stranger it seemed.
dorian never knew if his family or his own personal quirks, or superior skill, were the reason other boys decided to fight him. he was shuffled from academy to academy around waterdeep, eventually ending up lonely and in the wrong crowds and company, taking to drinking and sleeping off his stupors off campus grounds—when he met alexei.
alexei took him in and cared for him the way a father would. he was strange, yes, but the good kind of strange, loving to his son and to dorian. he brought out the mad genius in him.
dorian would grow ever more distant from his father, ever more reliant on alexei, as they continued to work on experiments with “time magic.” alexei protected dorian. from his father, from the waterdeep rumor mill, from the cult. but it couldn’t last forever, could it? nothing lasts forever.
six months ago, alexei and felix were captured by the venatori. rather than go back to his father with his tail between his legs, dorian grabbed what remained of their research and set out for baldur’s gate, where dorian believed alexei and felix had been taken.
since then, dorian has been hiding in baldur’s gate—attempting to find their whereabouts, attempting to not kidnapped, you know, normal stuff, nothing major!
or at least, that’s what he WAS doing, before he got scooped up by the nautiloid.
dorian can be recruited outside the tomb. he is engaging in serious debate about the tomb, as he believes it is a culturally relevant site that should be maintained and not plundered. or not plundered so hastily and inexpertly at the very least! unfortunately, he failed a nature check, and is stuck in a precarious situation with some vines. help him out, won’t you?
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