#voss/orpheus

[des-no9]

No-one (yet) has asked for Orpheus/Voss and I'm desperate for some and because there's so little Orph/Voss in the world I needed to write some lol.

So enjoy some emotions and a kiss ig set kinda directly after BG3.

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16 - Kiss in the rain Orpheus/Kith'rak Voss T

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Rain pelts the top of the tent. 

It sizzles as it hits the campfires. As it hits the dragons standing guard, dragons spreading wings to shake off drops before they rise and soar, rider on back.

He’s not here either. 

Voss snaps back the door of their tent, Orpheus’ honour guard sodden as they stand dutifully outside their Prince’s tent even though he’s not inside.

“Where?” snaps Voss. 

Gharvag looks over his shoulder at Voss. Shrugs. “Lost him already?”

Useless, so he just leaves. Barefoot through camp, toes sinking into mud into wet grass. Thick drops of cold water hitting skin and flattening hair before–

–he feels him. Almost a call to him.

Then sees him. Just standing in a clearing, grass to his knees, topless, and drenched.

Just watches him smile. Lift his hands to the sky to the rain. Down to his head as he wipes the raindrops over his bare head, neck. 

how the water had looked every time we’d washed after tattooing you. a river of red and black and a baptism in the way we bleed.

“I’d forgotten the rain, Voss,” says Orpheus, a strange giddiness in his voice Voss had forgotten. Maybe it had been the copious istik alcohol they’d drank. Maybe it was the most sane thing he’d heard in the past tenday. “What it feels like-” 

He trails off with his last word, shaking the drops off his face as it’s heavier now, making him laugh, his beard saturated. 

Holds out a hand that Voss still can’t quite believe he can take. 

He pricks a claw into his palm - pain - and wades through the long grass until Orpheus’ impatience pulls him the rest of the way. 

“It’s nothing to you now anymore, I know,” says Orpheus, licking his lips of drops, running hands over Voss’ wet face, smiling through a distant rumble of thunder, his psionics a shimmer over his skin in anticipation of the lightning. 

The rain is stardust on his skin. Bouncing, a shatter.

Voss sees him laugh again, giddy. Uncontained. Like the young Prince he’d first met. Uncontained, unburdened, unshackled. 

the water on your skin the time you’d surfaced from diving into that first waterfall we’d ever seen. all the treasures I could want washed on your skin instead.

He wants to say something. But what can you to something like this.

So a kiss. Wet and a force. Orpheus staggering back into the grass, a new footprint in the mud as Voss claws a hold onto his Prince as the thunder roars, as the lightning yawns.

[akalanthis]

this has been going on for 10,000 years

[scarila]

children of the stars

[des-no9]

Just adding here for posterity of the fic I wrote inspired by this beautiful art <3 thank you as always for the unending inspiration and love, Una.

On AO3 below. Also on tumblr here.

Kiss thing 33 for Voss and Orpheus bc there's so little of them in the world 💜

you are so right, we deserve to have more old men yaoi

[hjinnnkuo]

"I have imagined countless possible endings, but I never thought it would be this one."

---

Because I think this ending is really cruel, I have never chosen it even once (I always choose myself to become the illithid 🤡🤡🤡

[iicaru2]

potentially unpopular opinion, but my favorite ending for lae’zel (romanced or not) is asking her to stay in faerûn. the first ending i ever got for her was the sick ass dragon ending, but i didn’t feel good about it when i got to the epilogue. i kept thinking about that scene she has in act 3 (post-vlaakith showing up in camp to yell at her like an abusive mother) where you can ask her about her own needs and wants vs. her pledging herself to different people’s causes. vlaakith, then orpheus.

she approves when you ask, and says something along the lines of “there will come a time when i can think of myself beyond the lich-queen (...) but that time won’t come until the prince of the comet is set free.” she’s been living her entire life following orders and dedicating every bit of herself to the cause she believes in. lae’zel does just about everything in the name of someone else, because that’s what she was taught. she was raised a loyal soldier, and she doesn’t quite know what she is without that purpose in her life. she’s a lot like shadowheart in this regard.

but if you convince her to stay in faerûn after defeating the netherbrain— i know this quote because i saved it as i love it very much— she says: “mother gith battled for liberty - but it was only here, with you, that i learned what it meant to be free. yes - i will stay. my destiny is for neither vlaakith nor orpheus to decree. it is mine.”

and orpheus acts like everything he did was for nothing after that, which is kind of dumb. voss is obviously still going to fight for githyanki liberation (he has a letter about this in the epilogue), and you can see several of them taking to the skies afterwards. the githyanki people will be liberated, but it doesn’t have to be lae’zel who spends the rest of her life doing it for him. she’s found friends here. family.

she’s made a life of her own, and it’s unfair to ask her to throw that away for a war she didn’t start. like, for fuck’s sake, she’s twenty-two. she’s the youngest of the origins, and honestly, after seeing so much content of her throughout my several campaigns, it makes sense. lae’zel is the way she is because not only is she very young, she was also raised a soldier in a cutthroat environment. she’s never known any different, not until the pc and the tadfools party comes along to turn her worldview upsidedown.

if you ask her to stay, she seems so happy in the epilogue. plus, if you happened to steal an egg from the crèche and have exceptional approval with her, you can ask if the egg has hatched yet, and it leads to my favorite line of hers in the game: “so it has. i call him Xan. ‘freedom.’ tonight, he is safe among people i proudly call friends. what a wonder he is. he will be a fine warrior, if he chooses. or a poet, or an explorer, or a scholar. i was afforded a destiny of my own choosing. when he comes of age, it is only right i give Xan the same.”

she’s happy, and free, having adventures of her own all over faerûn with people she trusts. she’s raising her adoptive son and giving him the childhood she was never allowed to have. it’s such a great ending for her and i love her so fucking much.

[wyllzel]

"Love. Is that this feeling in me, then? This … passion to peel every layer of one's heart to see what light and shadows lurk there? ....I doubt I am the first githyanki to… to feel this way. But few would ever declare it." –LAE'ZEL, ACT 3

*In Act 3, it's revealed that Lae'zel doesn't know the word "love" (presumably in either Githyanki or Common). In the Upper City, if Orpheus becomes a mindflayer, he tells Voss "I love you" in Githyanki.

[des-no9]

take me back

Orpheus/Voss E 1.9k Where reality, dream and memory collide. What one do they really want? Tags: unhealthy relationships, oral sex, angst

Inspired by my dear friend @unaarista's beautiful art of Orpheus and Voss of the kiss prompt I sent her. Art is also included in the fic. Hope you all enjoy. Sorry it got sad <333

Full below cut including translation of tir used, or read it on AO3 here.

There was always something to Voss that had made Orpheus want to drop to his knees, to proclaim him my Prince, my mar. Sometimes t'var felt so contained on his tongue as he spoke it now against his one good ear (had scratched into the soreness of his other with the edge of his nail, wheeling the small lines of tir'su into his ravaged flesh, watching the way he'd squirmed, breathy, decadent in the pain to pain).

From that first vision of him as a challenger in the fighting pit. So tall, sinewy. Unafraid to belittle and harm the Prince, when so many had been hesitant. Voss hadn't held back in any of his punches that day, flooring Orpheus, tight between his thin thighs, but power. Orpheus felt comfortable stuck between them, beneath.

He was supposed to be fighting against submission that day. Instead he would give it all to Voss, from knees, from hands, from the last drop of my blood to you—

Their gaze hangs over the lightless Prism, heavy and sunk between Voss’ knees.

Vanquish had kept it. Attachment formed for what it had given, taken from her. Voss had asked for it back, useless to her now but a trinket, memento.

She'd seen the real meaning in his eyes. The way his touch had brushed over her hand instead of the Prism. An ask. A gentle ask from her beast. It was almost time to part, and letting go of the Prism was just the first farewell.

"And what do I get to take from you," she'd said, voice low, a rasp, clutching so hard to the Prism with him she'd near bled.

No words, no kiss. Had closed his eyes, dragged his sore forehead against hers, smearing a line of dirt, blood. Had wanted to say "all I can give" but what foolish sentiment for an istik.

"You kept me alive in there," says Orpheus, shaking Voss from the memory, of the promise to come back for her tonight, for that long goodbye, goodbye—

Voss feels Orpheus' knees dip down beside him. Hears the quickness in his breath that shouldn't be there; the too fast of a heartbeat; the suck of his teeth for muscles that ache, not moved in millennia.

"A version of me."

Armour, leathers long discarded. Just skin to furs and the stale air of their tent, a cocoon behind to the muffled joy beyond. The stir and embers of freedom, and for some the peeling of disbelief, of a new dawn, new life once inconceivable.

Voss turns to Orpheus, slow. Feels his touch fumble across bare chest, protruding bones, skin that sags, is sore.

You were inconceivable, he thinks, this touch so long a ghost, a marker of my dreams my waking wish. But now—

"You're here," the words slip out, unintended. A broken husk against his throat as his eyes dart around the visage of his Prince, of Orpheus, of the one he pummelled into the ground the day they met, bloodied and beautiful, z'varc z'varc on my tongue in my heart on your face.

"I am here."

"And just the same as that day I lost you."

Orpheus listens. Watches.

Voss runs a hand through Orpheus' beard, soft within, ends ragged. "I am a stranger." Before Orpheus can speak, Voss drags fingers along Orpheus' mouth, claws catching lips, threatening to cut. "Even to myself."

Then anger. Then a snap of that beautiful power and swell of rage as he feels Orpheus' psionics snap around his arm, as it smothers his fingers, lines of lust and fury, of sha va zai forgotten, now found.

"Then let me remind you of who you really are," he hisses, a firm fury of a hand wrapping around the edge of Voss' jaw, fang nipping at a scar he does remember.

Presses his tongue against it. Old and faded. Stale.

Voss' eyes dip down, teeth part bared as if preparing to snap.

Then feels Orpheus' tongue lap along the fresh and deep wounds on his cheek. Hisses at the touch, hisses at the deep warmth of tongue to flesh, at the prickles of his psionsics he feels underneath the pads of his fingers, and the pricks of his nails.

Here, he tastes fresh and flesh. Like raw meat he could bite down to eat. A tang and almost sweet. Dedication drips in these wounds, knees to the ground. Up up their walkway to the ragged chew of his ear. Rough and like it had been torn off with teeth.

Teeth that now scrape the edge of it, then tongue, wet flesh wrapping around the soreness that twitches. Orpheus knew Voss disliked his ears being touched. But maybe he didn't anymore. Had to make sure.

How much of you is memory, how much of you remains. He knows the question stings in Voss' mind too. Hears it too loud from the fringes of Voss' thoughts. It had been difficult to contain his power since freedom. You could say atrophy, but he was just stale. Stale.

Orpheus hears Voss sneer. Feels the angle of his head as he half pulls away, half pushes into his touch. Grins delighted at the visceral reality to the touch against his ear.

Real. It's real.

Breathes deep, smelling his swollen slit, wet and desperate, his scent always giving him away first. Unique and strong against a githyanki tongue, Orpheus had always thought.

A stray thought as he wonders what he tastes like to an istik tongue, a familiar mla'ghir tongue.

He licks Voss' scar harder. Rougher. Teeth scoring lines on lines–

Feels a hand wind around the back of his neck. Gentle. Firm. Grounding, like he'd always been. Something his psionics sought to tether to. A beacon that blared, called for him. That light that warned him of the shore, that reminded him there was one.

Their eyes connect, and Orpheus feels her name on the edge of Voss' mind. It's a bruise. A beautiful bruise he wants to press. To see the pain it pulls, to see the colour it blooms. Wants to wound it again to make it last.

Knows she already will. Her name soundless between them. Wonders for how long.

Squeezes his eyes shut, snaps back Voss' head, finds a scar he doesn't know, and licks.

Licks the feeling of its ragged skin. Deep down as he feels the rapid beat of his hearts, wondering why the scar is there. Making up his own story, his own mind. Will ask later. Doesn't matter now.

Voss on his back, lost in furs and the visage of his Prince above, hands roaming over skin he'd inked several times as his own. Bathed in ink and blood and washed his own face with it, licked lips clean of the baptism of his Prince from head, to toe. Would bathe in his body if he could. Will one day if he has to.

Deep claw marks over chest. Two harder than the third. A smaller hand than Voss, than Orpheus. But not fresh, not her. Wonders who, why. Follows the shape of his tongue with a touch of his own. And down.

Cut of a sword on your stomach, taut and old, bones like keys of an instrument, like broken blocks of stone protruding from an old building, worn, weathered.

Hands rove, reading what's left of him protruding through ancient skin. Leathery and taut. Stretched like hide in places, sagging in others, fingers sliding through the folds of skin stamped in age in spots of fade.

Lower.

He'd seen this scar earlier as they'd undressed. Curiosity, heart wild at its beauty.

Impatience as he feels the tip first. Shallower here, to down. Down where it's deeper as it drags over his slit, swollen, parting, tongue lashing over the ridges of his cock pressing against his slit as it widens.

He feels Voss' back arch, bones and elbows and mess of his hair scouring into the fur beneath as Orpheus licks, as some sort of love drips through the way he moves.

Hands spread legs, rough. Pushing aside his thigh as if meaningless. Feels a constellation of scars beneath his palm. Tries to count them. Loses number back to one when he rolls his tongue back over Voss' cunt, wet and warm and the only fucking thing that makes sense.

Voss dips up. Loud. Face freer, drawls a moan, restless hand over prickly skin.

What Orpheus doesn't know, was Voss had become a contained lover. Sounds restrained, methodical in his motions. Power. Beauty.  Orpheus knows the youth of him. The wildness of unleashed, no burden but the one we make.

Now, Voss acts strange to himself, but to Orpheus it's like always, like when we were us, skin and blood and the stars above, the water around us, laughter and death between our toes.

It drives him wild. Grounds him. Makes him whole.

Digs his tongue deep. Deeper. Feels the coil of Voss' cocks, digs his tongue between them. Keeps them there, as he rolls his tongue along the edges of his slit. Of the folds that turn to scar tissue. To the rough skin that would bleed an istik (did she bleed when you fucked her).

Voss snaps Orpheus' head up, hearing the stray thought bleed in his psionics, brush against his own mind.

"Va." It's breathy. A crack in Voss' throat. A sound that makes Orpheus smile. Lines of saliva and sweet cum lining lips, tongue.

Dips back down. Sees the tip of Voss' cocks peek out, dripping cum, their edges rough and starlit in the notches of his barbs.

A refusal as he pushes them back in with his tongue. Feels a whine of protest in noise, in motion as Voss arches of the furs, hissing a curse, clawing a scathe over his Prince's head.

But a smile on his face.

He trembles. Ears twitching.

Orpheus can feel him so close so quick. Presses a hand hard down on his pelvis, feels the motion of his cocks as they move inside, refused; as his tongue languishes against their swollen flesh, rough barbs. As he realises just how far and deep and wide this scar went.

He'll ask why soon. It doesn't matter. It just matters that it's there. A z'var'zai. From head to cock to cunt to toe.

Presses harder with his hand--

Rougher, with his tongue--

And soaks in the sweetness of his cum, and the noise of his moan.

Hands smear it further. Paints his scars and spots. Kisses blotches on his stomach, chest, to face.

Crawls up. Hovers above a shaky body, looks down at a knight, a constant, the light to his shore, the star to his home.

"Do you really think I've not changed?" says Orpheus, quiet, dipping down low, the words almost not there.

Voss, breathless. Sweat soaked saliva wet, closes his eyes, reaches out to feel the edges of Orpheus' face, claws skimming the slide of his ear, the silver of his piercings, the exact lines where he knows his tattoos cut. Remembers counting the dots as he'd inked him. The taste of ink, and blood.

Breathes. Feels more down his neck, shoulders. The walkway of his back. More he knows through the blind bliss of black, through the voice of his touch, infallible.

Voss doesn't speak.

Just a kiss

"Voss?"

a kiss a kiss

take me back to the night we met

a kiss

---

Tir used in 'take me back'

mar - all, everything mla'ghir - liberator t'var - my one, my star sha va zai - I love you va - yes, acknowledgement z'varc - blood wild; bleed me dry, fuck me wet z'var'zai - worth of blood; blood beauty. Aka, seeing beauty in someone's wounds/scars.

[calistozom]

SPOILER WARNING for one of the endings. And also, I may be exaggerating a little.

In my first run, I tried to reach the best possible ending. Even though I chose the Emperor (because he, at the very least, didn't try to kill me the first time I met him), in my personal canon, after the great final, my OС would try to resurrect the gith Prince. NOT just because I felt sorry for Orpheus, but also because I felt guilty for actually destroying Lae’zel's life… twice... my "lil angry war-frog" didn't deserve it! ＞︿＜

And I ALSO understand that most of those dramatic deaths are used purely for the sake of the plot and this is a REALLY GOOD plot in many ways ... HOWEVER, I still resent how quickly our rebel giths buried their Prince. Like WTF, Voss?! What the actual F….???

I may not know everything about resurrection mechanics in DnD, but I do know that THERE ARE a lot of ways to bring someone back from the dead. Like all my resurrection scrolls, or "Divine Intervention" (from clerics), or resurrection spells (from almost all mages/sorceress/warlocks/clerics/paladins/etc.), or the "Wish" spell (which Gale's "friend" Elminster is clearly capable of), or the "Reincarnation" spell (which druids are capable of), or you can ask Withers/Jergal to create a miracle for the last time (although he most likely would have refused and I don’t judge him). Just ask for help, you stupid kith’rak! * screams of rage *

P.S. – while I was drawing, my sister showed me THIS and I felt like it fits, so I’m leaving a link to you. Thank gods, that I’m not the only one who asks these questions.

[certifieddilfenjoyer]

Astral Prism, Orpheus & Raphael Theory

So you know how most people in Baldur's Gate 3 fandom make the Raphael joke?

I'm here to tell you that it's extremely hurtful, because his character has a lot more depth than some of you are willing to see.

Behold, my Baldur's Gate 3 theory:

Right before we enter Act 3, we are jumped by githyanki who want to retrieve our Astral Prism. We are summoned to the Dream Visitor - The Emperor, to help him in the fight.

We find out then that our supposed ally is an illithid but there is one more guy, The Gith, the Orpheus, The Prince of the Comet.

You can ask the Emperor what the heck is a githyanki doing there and he will tell you the brief story about the War of The Comet*.

He is going to mention, that he is bound by INFERNAL chains. Hold on? How come?

After we are done with the Royal Guard, we can go to the upper left side from Orpheus's prison and find an ancient Githyanki disc. It will tell us, that Vlaakith had some infernal business conducted with a devil with wry charm. Of course Raphael isn't the only devil capable of being charming, but it feels natural for it to be him when he is already a very important character in game.

Baldur's Gate 3 Wiki says that it is indeed Vlaakith and Raphael.

OK, but why would they exchange the Astral Prism and is it Vlaakith getting it or Raphael receiving the relic?

He is giving it to Vlaakith. But how would he be in possession of such an artifact?

My theory: He is the one who had it created for that trade. (Commissioned from someone else)

Explanation:

If you look at Hope's and Orpheus's prison, you will notice a striking resemblance at the crystals that can be only shattered by the Orphic Hammer. A Hammer, that Raphael is in possession of! How convenient!

(Even Hope's and Orpheus' eyes are glowing in the same way when they are enslaved.**)

The runes and the design of both Astral Prism and Orpheus' shackles are also strikingly similar. It does not look like anything of Githyanki creation, it screams infernal.

But that still doesn't really add up, does it? Who would possibly create such a powerful object which plays such a major role in the plot?

Here, we have to familiarise ourselves with the wonderful post by Bearhugsandshrugs

Em explains above who the people visiting House of Hope are***.

One of them is a crazy, extremely knowledgeable wizard who specialises in creating copies of himself which prevents him from dying in battle.

When we kill Raphael, we kill him in HoH, in his own domain. He should be gone, for good! But yet, upon interacting with the Orb of Infernal Envisioning, we see that he is soon to be devoured by his father. Hells do not split into separate planes - so either Mephisto snatched his soul somehow (which seems impossible because his body is still there and devil's souls are their bodies) or Raphael respawned and his father took one of his clones or something like that. (He's just so cool I had to put it in here, but let me return to my theory now)

Another name on the list points out to Raphael's interest in different planes (even the ones which don't seem to be reachable) but also, magical puzzle boxes capable of holding items inside. As you can see, the name on the list is under the uninvited visitors section, which most likely means that they either fuel his soul pillars or have been turned into a soul coin. So it didn't have to be that particular person helping Raphael with the creation of the Astral Prism, but it points out to his interest in that topic.

Now, when would that even happen?

Karsus Folly took place in -339 DR, BG3 takes place in 1492 DR, around 2000 years later.

The enslavement of Orpheus - so also the Vlaakith trade - happened at around -4000 DR.

It is not impossible that Raphael was already around and scheming at that time. Why? Because Mephistopheles gifted Haarlep to Raphael most likely when Raphael was about to get the Crown before his father snatched it. Comparing their visual age, it seems that Raphael was already a young adult cambion at around the War of The Comet age.

Another thing is the fact that, Kith'rak Voss, the badass Githyanki Red Dragon rider, the sword of Vlaakith, found out about Raphael and contacted him and told us to get our ass inside Sharess Caress. Raphael doesn't mention him having an 'office' there, it's Voss who does it. Only upon entering the place, we can interact with Korrilla who's like, hey girl go upstairs Raphael rented a room hoping you'd drop by. HE KNOWS WE SPOKE TO VOSS, he has to! And also, Voss was around when Orpheus got enslaved! According to Wiki he was inside the Astral Plane when that happened. And Raphael has absolutely 0 interest in trading with Voss, yet the githyanki managed to reach him somehow. In my opinion, when he finally realised the lies of Vlaakith, he was looking for a specific devil, for Raphael, because he might remember him from back then.

(* Justice to my poor Githyanki, the most based and cool race in BG3. Imagine how painful it has to be to realize over centuries of time that you helped the self-proclaimed queen establish her tyranny over your own people because you've been brainwashed to believe that Orpheus is a traitor and Vlaakith the rightful heir of the throne)

(** The eyes, the chains, the crystals. The top of the Orphic Hammer is literally partially built from that same gem/crystal and on top of that, if you use Examine on it, it clearly states that it has been built in Infernal forges.)

(*** headcanon warning: The Amulet of Vigor that is present in the Archive is actually proven to have some... Other invigorating capabilities ☠️☠️☠️ and the old, ancient, crazy wizard has the boudoir privileges. Coincidence? ☠️☠️)

Anyways, to sum up:

• Githyanki disc shows us a deal between Vlaakith and Raphael where the devil gives her the Astral Prism.

• Raphael orders creation of the Orphic Hammer (the name itself, come on, it's such a mockery just like House of Hope) to make sure that he has the means to free him if it will benefit him in any way.

• In exchange for the Hammer, he receives some kind of knowledge of ascension to godhood. (Lae'Zel tells us during the game that ascension is the githyanki's greatest honour but it turns out it is nothing else but ensuring that Vlaakith remains alive and a god, because she just consumes the life force of her greatest warriors)

• Hope's and Orpheus's chains are strikingly similar and the part of the Orphic Hammer is built from the same gem/crystal that seems to be enslaving both of them.

So yea, my humble request is that you start fully appreciating the incredible writing of the game, instead of just focusing on the shallow 'haha bottom' jokes. I could make another post about that itself, but it's pointless. I hope you enjoyed!

[unaarista]

some (but not all) of my favourite sketches from our shared canvas sessions with @des-no9

[akalanthis]

I have only 1 thing to offer and that's githyanki memes

[garfield0-o]

Mini comic thing based on the Fox good measures on AO3 ^u^

[sixteen-strikes]

Someone really missed his boyfirend and someone just remembered what hugs feel like after thousands of years.

I winged Orpheus' tattoos, don't look too close.

[hjinnnkuo]

Their Western AU again😄

(really don't know how to draw animals correctly so it has many structure mistakes just ignore them🤡🤡🤡

[emshatesphysics]

trying to study for finals but im thinking abt laezel so i will now write a billion paragraphs

I know people typically think that Laezel staying in Faerun is kind of a sad ending for her like even though she finds love and friendship she gives up on helping liberate the githyanki which is true bc there is no ending that isn't bittersweet. But having done Laezel's origin story I think depending on you shape her character arc her staying in Faerun can make a lot of sense.

She starts off incredibly loyal to Vlaakith and touting lines of gith superiority, as always. At the beginning, she looks down on Faerun as a lesser planet of lesser beings. Her goal is to eradicate the ghaik and eventually, as is the gith goal, to dominate the universe as a soldier of Vlaakith.

However, once you go to the creche, and even if you do exactly as Vlaakith says, you end up being declared a traitor and forced to fight your own for your survival.

So Laezel at this point is completely disillusioned. The thing she thought would be her cure almost killed her. The queen she was ready to live and die for discarded her after she followed her orders. What does she have left of her identity? If she would still do her queen's will, she would submit herself and die. But Laezel does not want to die. She does not want to be ended. Laezel is not stupid. Although she was raised with Vlaakith's dogma, she is clearly capable of critical thinking, as the events of her creche make her ready to swear off her queen.

Laezel obviously has to do some serious self reflection here. And at this point, particularly playing as her origin, I think you can decide whether her arc becomes more about finding a new cause or learning to live for herself. Having been raised as a soldier, of course it would be more natural to find a new cause to fight for. But in some sense, the harder thing to do would also be the more "selfish" thing of figuring out how to live for herself.

Yes, Laezel's character is focused on efficiency, pragmaticism, and being a well-oiled machine. That doesn't have to change completely. But in terms of the game's themes, I think it would be more interesting for Laezel to question literally everything she knows. And by extension, what she wants from her life.

Happiness was irrelevant to serving Vlaakith's will. But when Vlaakith betrayed her, can she really trust such teachings? Is all kindness truly a weakness? I don't think Laezel woild ever reach Wyll levels of altruism. But perhaps she could learn some more patience and train herself to expand her empathy.

We see her doing diplomacy in the Orpheus ending-- she learns these traits regardless. However, what I think would justify staying on Faerun is a complete questioning of her ideals.

Is the gith race truly superior? Yes, of course, because what could she find pride in if not? But Vlaakith lied to her about ascension. So perhaps that was a lie too? No, such thoughts would make her a traitor to her people. But isn't she already declared as such?

Her skill with a blade is unmatched. She does not want to die. She does not want to become ghaik. She does enjoy sex. And that... is all she knows for certain.

What more can she trust? She will keep doing as she has with intimidation because that has worked so far. But perhaps she will experiment a bit more. She will allow an extra second for targets to explain themselves. Perhaps she will be a little less hasty to judge people's worth. After all, she initially thought Gale pathetic and useless. But being a wizard has its uses. She thought Shadowheart's lies and deceit were signs of weakness (which they still very well could be because she still would not trust the Sharran) but after her time in Faerun, it is clear that the society is different and such tactics have their uses to avoid conflicts that make reaching her goals harder.

It is strange witnessing the gentleness and softness that the tiefling families have for each other. Initially she thought to end their pitiful existence for weakness must be culled. Indeed she repeated as such. However, recently her chest has felt some strange warmth when she sees the children playing or that useless tiefling bard and her mate smiling at each other. How pathetic. Or is it?

When Kithrak Voss tells her of Orpheus, of course she must fight. Of course, she must free her people. Loyalty to her race is expected. And it is her birthright, her purpose. But after Vlaakith... is she so ready to pledge herself to another cause? She tells her companions if Voss is lying she will have his head and she will deserve the end that she gets. Really, she is not so sure.

On Faerun, most races hardly have any sworn loyalty within them. Beings of all kinds betray and change allegiance all the time. This is obviously a sign of inherent weakness and fragility of society. Except for the fact that the conflicts between Vlaakith and Orpheus indicate that gith society is also fragile.

Of course Faerun is nothing compared to what the Astral Plane will be. But as she explores the Underdark and the horrors of the Shadow-Cursed Lands, she realizes she can find worthy opponents here. Perhaps worthier ones than she ever anticipated.

And some part of it, she loathes to admit, is also beautiful. And then a horrifying thought strikes her. What if the Astral Plane is also a lie?

That thought is clearly untrue because Voss and countless gith have found their home there. But somehow along her journey, she has learned much of Faerun. And blast it all, she has come to enjoy it.

Laezel likes to stick to what she knows. She likes what she is certain of. And right now, she is terrified because she is certain of very little. But she has come to be certain of the fact that she likes Faerun a lot more than she did at first.

What does she want? She does not know. And every experience on Faerun is helping her learn.

Of course she frees Orpheus because she will do that before ever trusting a ghaik. But when someone has to turn into ghaik to defeat the brain, she will not become ghaik herself. She does not know Orpheus well. She should be willing to make the sacrifice. But again, she finds her desire for her own life take precedence over whatever leader she might follow. And truly? She is not ready to trust so blindly again.

When Orpheus turns, when the brain is defeated, when she is offered to go up to the Astral Plane and claim her birthright almost all of her is ready to jump on the red dragon and fight as the soldier she was raised to be. But she then thinks that her birthright, her dream, was born from a source of which she is now uncertain.

She is no longer sure if this is her dream. Since her youth, it has been. But perhaps she does not need to persist based upon Vlaakith's teachings. Perhaps her blind loyalty should not be so blind. She wants to fight Vlaakith and get her revenge. But even more, she wants to live in the place she has learned to love and not the one she is told that she will love.

She declines. It hurts to see Orpheus so disappointed and Voss so angry. The uncertainty of her hand in their victory against Vlaakith stings.

But it comes with a sense of freedom. A freedom she doesn't completely understand, but one she will try her best to. Who is Laezel of Creche Kllir? A fearsome warrior who is intimidating and strong. A lithe githyanki who has saved countless lives on Faerun. A woman who no longer makes decisions from false promises.

She bids Voss farewell and tells him that she will destroy Vlaakith's bases here and recruit others to Orpheus's legacy. She will spread his legend. She will be the warrior she has always been. But she will not be beholden to whatever Vlaakith has told her. She will find her happiness in the places she knows and stay with the gentleness she used to perceive as weak.

Her loyalty to race will not be the determining factor of her pride. She will find pride in herself.'

Oh also i think she should romance shadowheart and they should go on their own adventures and make out all the time but thats neither here nor there.