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⇝ @bloodspwn

he and death were close friends and adversaries. balthazar would feed it by taking the lives of his enemies and bathing in their blood. though whenever he came close to death, the barbarian fought and fought hard to keep himself in this plane of existence. death would not have him today or tomorrow. the barbarian sits on a tree stump with body hunched over a little bit. his entire back and upper torso is bare, showcasing the many tattoos he has aside from the war paint upon his face. the etchings swirl down both his arms and on the back, he has a huge pattern going over and down his spine. scars are also revealed. there is a rather big one across his chest, and then a few little ones are scattered around the rest of his torso and back.

fingers fiddle with the fabric between his fingers. mind tries to concentrate on the task at hand, but it keep wandering towards the open wound on his side. it wouldn't kill him. probably not . . . but it hurt like hell. the white cloth is placed against the wound, blood immediately staining it. he winces as he puts more pressure on it. shadowheart might have been able to cure him, but she looked depleted and tired when they rose victorious but exhausted, so he didn't say anything to anyone. he would have kept it that way had morana not suddenly appeared. ❝ bugbear got me. ugly bastard. ❞ a huff passes his lips as he tries to rip up more cloth. ❝ it's not as bad as it looks. i could use some help though. my fingers are all sticky and covered in blood. pretty sure it's not all my own. ❞

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⇝ @weavehld

magic has always been a mystery to him. no one back home had any talent nor much knowledge on the subject. it was just so . . . alien, though often he admired it. admired and watched gale as colors and elements sprout from his fingers. when darkness fell over the campsite, balthazar found himself too wound up to sleep. he ended up walking around and found gale. earlier, when they had been in battle together against a few bandits, gale had cast something that balthazar thought was incredibly pretty. the colors and light of it drawing him in. he, like a child, had wished to chase it and claim it as his own, that was until it burned the bandit's skin. pretty things can be dangerous noted.

❝ can't sleep? ❞ gruff voice cuts through the silence of the night. the only thing that accompanies it are the chirping sounds of crickets. ❝ sorry to bother you but . . . ❞ the barbarian trails off for a moment, silently wondering to himself if the inquiry he was about to ask was silly. ❝ you fought good today and i, well, i like watching when you do all your wizardy stuff. i was wondering if you could teach me something? i mean, i don't know if i even have an ounce of magic in my veins, but i'd like to try. ❞

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⇝ @dreadspvwn

sweat coats his brow and the crimson stain of blood paints his pale skin. a vicious masterpiece . . . some of the blood may be his, but most of it was his opponents. goblins were easy to hack through with his axe - which cleaved some of them in half. it was the ogres that proved more difficulty. they were large, and though he be large too, they were even more so. it wasn't a usual thing for a creature to be able to cast a shadow over the barbarian. great axe is swung wildly, the hot burn of rage in his muscles. it harms the beast but then it counteracts. a biting of teeth and a swing of its arm almost knocks balthazar down to the ground. the hand had come in contact with the temple, which now stung. he sways, trying to blink through blurred vision. the beast laughed at him mockingly and promised to bring death upon balthazar.

a terrible and loud yell broke through the goblin camp. his throat scratchy afterwards, but he does not pay attention, too focused on lifting his axe one last time. though, just as he does, someone throws an attack at the beast and it falls to the ground before him. a grunt and a low curse passed his lips. he turns around, attempting to pinpoint who had thrown the attack. the camp was in chaos but he spies the tiefling that was accompanying them. ❝ that was my kill! mine. ❞ another war cry shakes the camp as balthazar chops his way through the goblins towards lorn. ❝ do you wish to take all the victory? is that it? ❞

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⇝ @lolthsc4ped

the air is still hot with tension, the ghost of raphael's hell blazing aura changes the once calm environment. balthazar can still feel the clenching of his muscles and rising of his anger. had they needed to fight a devil, he was going to go down with a mighty yell of rage. not even this 'raphael' would steal his glory. the barbarian half sits on a stool that is a little too small for him and is toying with a small wooden figurine of a dwarven warrior. it was a carving that his father made for him whenever he was younger. the thought of father causing his frown to deepen. there is temptation to call back raphael and perhaps exchange something for information about his father. was he alive? injured? or worse . . . a mind flayer? all he wanted were answers and it was getting frustrating feeling like they were all running around like chickens with their heads cut off.

a sigh falls from him as he glances around at the tent he resides in. there is animal fur, his great axe, a few worn books scattered around, and a few miscellaneous small trinkets. the space looked like a working table where balthazar was making crafts. it was a secret - but he was attempting to make his new friends pieces of jewelry for them to remember him. this adventure could end at any moment. they could find a solution for their brain worms tomorrow or they could finally turn. a cold shiver runs down his spine at the thought of it. lae'zel had once described what happens whenever a person turns. 'flesh turns into gore' is what she said.

attention draws towards the approaching companion. despite anxiety making chest feel tight and breathing shallow, he manages a smile. ❝ are you coming to see what i make of our unwanted visitor? devils aren't to be trusted. they feed off the desperate and hungry like rabid dogs. if i must lose my soul, then i will go down fighting with it. ❞ hands flex around the wooden trinket he holds tightly. ❝ what is your verdict about raphael's offer? ❞

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NO LIGHT WITHOUT DARKNESS .. an assortment of quotes from season 2 of shadow and bone.

we've been framed for murder.

why is the sun so important to a privateer?

there's a whole world to see once we're not fugitives.

you think you know who you are not because you've suffered for a moment?

are you willing to sacrifice that which is most precious to you?

what you just did was impressive and also very illegal.

i have returned, and i made some new friends.

there's adventure, danger, money? now you're speaking my language.

the past informs everything. it is the wound that will not heal.

perhaps now you’re getting an inkling of what it’s like to be hunted.

you live in a single moment. i live in a thousand.

there is a cost, always, to making difficult choices.

suffering is as cheap as clay and twice as common.

it will give me some comfort to know you’re with me, in the shadows.

let’s go take down the king.

the trick is not to love anything.

being myself is a luxury I cannot often indulge.

all creatures have a weakness.

i was always honest with you with the things that matter.

i have seen what you truly are, and i have never turned away. i never will.

the problem with wanting is that it makes us weak.

you can’t unlearn that sort of hatred.

the power was angry, but it was mine, mine alone.

the whole world will hear it when I make her scream.

home. so much about it defines who you become.

this isn’t a return home; it’s a return to the scene of the crime.

who are you without your vengeance?

fight me as long as you’re able. you’ll find i have more practice with eternity.

i’m the final piece of the puzzle.

know that i loved you. know that it was not enough.

i’ll never know a love more than this.

you’re all I’ve ever wanted. you’re the whole of my heart.

you have a bad habit of acting a fool and calling it heroic.

there is no light without darkness.

without me, know that they will come for you.

if this path leads me back to you, we’ll know what we have is ours, and ours alone. choice. not destiny. choice.

there is no place for secrets when you sit upon the throne.

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⇝ @celestieu

his entire frame hurts as he wakes lying on the beach. bones are sore and mind feels as if it has been through battle. he can feel the worm wiggling and biting. it's a hungry intruder that he doesn't even know where to begin with getting rid of it. grunts fall from parted lips as he stands, gripping a hold of his axe and placing it in the holder upon his back. the surrounding setting doesn't look familiar at all. there's water and sand. annoyingly enough the sand tangles itself in his ginger strands. there's also a stickiness to his skin as he is not used to being in such a warm climate. hailing from mirabar, it snowed there and the heat of the sun was something rarely felt. he would have to adapt quickly.

the barbarian rolls his shoulders back, muscles practically screaming as he does so. the ship looms over the beach its large tentacles creating some shade. honestly, it shocks him that he was not only able to escape but that he was also still alive. something had casted a huge net to soften his blow on the ground. what had caught him? he had no idea. perhaps someone with greater intellect could tell him.

hope clings to his chest as he walks further down the sand. would there be any survivors? the question is answered quickly as he found shadowheart lying unconscious. thankfully, it was easy to wake her. they spoke briefly about their miraculous survival and agreed that they should travel together before they kept walking forward. neither having any idea where they would end up, but any place was better then back on that ship.

balthazar expects to find lae'zel down on the beach, instead he spots a tiefling with pale hair seemingly playing with a young doe. he holds up his arm and gives a big wave shouting, ❝ hello! we come in peace. ❞ the deer is startled and runs. there's a look of guilt upon his expression as he draws nearer. ❝ sorry, didn't mean to scare your friend. you're another survivor, right? i am so glad to see you. the more, the merrier. i'm balthazar and this is shadowheart. ❞ the cleric mutters, 'it's a pleasure' but says little else. upon meeting shadowheart, he's realized that not everyone gives out trust so easily. perhaps doing so makes him naïve. he is doomed to live in this world with a kind heart, which was both a curse and a blessing. ❝ you could join us, if you would like? what's your name? how did you get off of that nightmare of a ship? ❞

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Best camping buddies. <3

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⇝ @f4ithwarden .

despite the urgency to rid themselves of these tadpoles, it is nice to take a moment of reprieve. the woods surrounding them are peaceful and playing a melody. a song of crickets humming, birds tweeting, and even a fox slinking along the leaves ready to catch the mouse that eats in front of it with no acknowledgement that it was in danger. perhaps, it didn't know. balthazar watches as the fox gets into pouncing position and just as its hind legs lift off of the forest floor, an arrow is shot and the fox lays dead. he supposed that he could have used his ax as it probably would have been quicker, but he did not want the fox's death to mean nothing. he did not want to ruin its meat or fur coat - both would be beneficial for the party to have. before heading back to camp, he gets down on his knees and prays to moradin that the creature find peace in the world that lays beyond. the deity that he called upon, moradin, was dwarven. their teachings and statues were prominent in mirabar, which had a higher population of dwarves than humans or elves. he would mutter more prayers as he searched for firewood and other things.

balthazar finally returns to the camp with fox over his one shoulder and wood gripped within both arms. due to his size, he's able to carry more than enough wood for their campfire. after sitting everything down, he searches for aurora. the druid is one that he admires. always in awe of the magic she uses and her connection to nature. balthazar did not grow up around magic, as none of his friends or family possessed the gift so it was all so new to him. this is why he is mainly wide-eyed and curious around her.

the search comes to an end, whenever he finds her, he approaches gently so not to startle. ❝ i picked these for you. ❞ the 'flowers' that he presents to her are actually weeds. pretty weeds, but weeds nonetheless. still, he has a proud smile resting on his expression as he remains blissfully unaware. ❝ have you decided on what you think we should do come tomorrow? ❞ there were many directions that they could go - they could trust a goblin priestess to cure them, or an old woman, or druid halsin. the latter of which they needed to rescue from the clutches of the goblins. goblins were an annoyance on their own, but gathered together, they were deadly. a swarm of goblins like a swarm of bees. it is guaranteed that you will be stung. ❝ we're close to the goblin camp so perhaps priestess gut is our best shot . . . or our worst. i don't know if i want a goblin messing around in my mind. ❞

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*places a starter call here gently*

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GOLDEN CHILD, lion boy; tell me what it's like to conquer. ©

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* 𝑮𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑻𝑨𝑿𝑬 : independent, selective, and mutually exclusive portrayal of 𝐁̳𝐀̳𝐋̳𝐓̳𝐇̳𝐀̳𝐙̳𝐀̳𝐑̳ 𝐄̳𝐒̳𝐃̳𝐘̳𝐑̳ , the 'tav' player character of baldur's gate 3. very crossover and oc friendly! this blog will contain mature material, which means do not follow me or interact if you are below 21+. trigger warnings and spoilers will be tagged to the best of my ability. rolled by flynn (twenty-eight, he/they, est).

¹ GUIDELINES. ² BIOGRAPHY. ³ PROMPTS.

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