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galedekarios · 4 days

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gale's early access dialogue transcripts - part 4: gale's condition & how artefacts worked

gale's condition functioned somewhat similar to the way it does now in full release. however, there were also major key differences:

the implication of how the condition affected him physically

reveal of gale's condition

treatment of gale's condition

curing gale's condition -> speculation based on early access

i'm going to go through these differences point by point.

1. the implication of how the condition affected gale physically

i wrote a much more detailed meta post about gale's condition as presented in early access and gale's unique key art already so i'm going to link it here should you want to read in even more detail about it.

for brevity's sake, i'm not going to go into the same depth here and only present the main points raised:

the netherese orb, a piece of magic that karsus unleashed on the day he cast karsus's avatar and the historic event that came to be known as karsus's folly happened, not only caused gale to be robbed of most of his magic, a once archwizard and chosen blocked off from spells he used to cast with ease, but his keyart as well as lines from auntie ethel implied a deeper corrupted: "rot and ruin", as one of ethel's vicious mockery lines said, which she was able to smell beneath gale's "bandages".

as ea hadn't yet implemented at least somewhat unique body models - with a few exception like wyll's scars or astarion's scars - we never got to see that idea translated into game.

yet the bandages were visibile in gale's keyart on his right hand and arm, while his left seems to be free of the same affliction:

i think it's fair to say from these textual and visual clues - as well as others i detailed more in the meta post i linked above - that the orb that still causes gale's blood to taste like bile even in the full release had far, far deeper reaching consequences for him.

a deeper corruption. some form of petrification/putrefaction that primarily was then focused on one of his hands, reaching up aready to his arm.

2. reveal of gale's condition

i) full release: gale now reveals his condition to the player once his approval is high enough in ! conversation while travelling.

ii) early access: in early access, not only did giving gale artefacts work entirely differenty, which i'll go into in the next point, but he also revealed his condition in an entirely different dialogue set before a long rest at camp:

the vague story in the deer stew scene, which would had a low and high approval version, and the detailed version after the tiefling party, which i'll be going into in part when talking about the last point "curing gale's condition" since gale will speculate on possible cures for the orb himself in this conversation.

with the deer stew scene, in which he'd lead the conversation in with asking how the player found the deer stew he made after a family rescipe and explain how he'd come to trust and feel comfortable with them over their travels together, enough so that he would reveal that he needs "powerful artefacts" to soothe his condition.

in full release, gale still says similar things as the dialogue from the deer stew scene is at least partially re-used, however it's not at all reflected in the actual game: even komira's dancing lights locket will do, as well as any other low tier items, completely undermining the severity of gale's condition, his reason to leave waterdeep, the city of splendours in which such trinkets would be easy to come by in abundance, and, ultimately, the threat the orb represents.

which brings me to my next point:

3. treatment of gale's condition

in early access, this wasn't the case and gale truly did require actual three powerful artefacts, among them:

the sword of justice (anders, paladin of tyr)

the shadow of menzoberranzan (obtained in the underdark)

the staff of crones (obtained after beating ethel)

selune's dream (obtained after beating the leaders of the defiled temple)

the idol of silvanus (obtained by stealing it from the grove)

the iron flask (obtained by opening the chest of the zhentarim)

boots of speed (duergar item obtained in the underdark)

if the protagonist happened upon such an artefact, they would remark upon it, asking gale if this is one such artefact that would help to soothe his condition and gale would reply affirmatively:

the player at that point was able to give it to him immediately either outside of camp or at camp via player-initiated dialogue ("give gale the staff of crones") instead of the clunky "donation box" mechanic in full release.

giving gale the artefact immediately would have a more positive reaction (and a deeper bow of respect to the player after thanking them & absorbing the artefact), giving it to him later would still be received positively by gale, however result in a shallower bow to the player.

he would absorb the magic inside these artefacts in the same way he does now, but as previously stated, his dialogue would differ:

conversation after giving the first artefact:

Gale: I can feel the storm abating. Yes, this will keep my condition in check – for a precious while. - Player - Option 1: How long will that precious while last? Gale: It's hard to predict the effect any given artefact has, but my condition is hardly a patient one. - Player - Option 2: I think I should be reimbursed for my efforts Gale: As long as we travel together, what's mine is yours. And if we survive our many ordeals, I'll host you a banquet in Waterdeep the likes of which you've never seen. Such promises will have to wait however. My condition is hardly a patient one. - Player - Option 3: So this is what regret feels like Gale: A feeling you may have to grow accustomed to while I'm around. My condition is hardly a patient one. - Gale: I will consume the magic inside. What was a powerful artefact will be rendered no more than a trinket. But it will save my life- even it only temporarily. Gale: Rather soon I will feel it stir again – like a distant thunder sending tremors through the soul. I will need to consume another artefact before the lightning strikes. There's no choice but to find more. In the meantime, my thanks again. - Player - Option 1: You are welcome Gale: My lord, I bow to your boundless kindness! - Player - Option 2: That condition of yours is a very expensive one. Gale: I obtained it in Waterdeep. Nothing there comes cheap. - Player - Option 3: Thanks doesn't get me that artefact back. Gale: I myself am a much more powerful artefact in your arsenal. Rest assured of that.

conversation after giving the second & third artefact

Gale: It's good to perceive this constant fear repressed into a quiet scare. Let's hope it will last a good long while. - Player - Option 1: I'm glad you're feeling better. Gale: And I'm impressed once more by your benevolence! I say that with great sincerity. Mere days have passed since our first acquaintance, but you've gained the respect of years. As such, I do not wish to give you false hope. We're only treating the symptoms, not the cause. - Player - Option 2: A constant fear? That sounds unpleasant.

Gale: Unpleasant, certainly. Gut wrenching too. Heart rending even, if pinched for an adjective. Then again - keeps you on your toes. - Player - Option 1: Let's hope this was the last artefact I had to part with. Gale: Come, come, these are mere fabled objects of great to enormous value. My continued presence though – quite priceless! On a more serious note, I do not wish to give you false hope. We're only treating the symptoms, not the cause. - Gale: Time is a precious gift. With time, we may even reach Baldur's Gate, a city rife with magic, wizards, scholars, and perhaps: solutions. - Player - Option 1: In that case I share your optimism. Here's to the journey ahead. Gale: And here's to your company. - Player - Option 2: The tadpole is my main concern. I'm in need of solutions too. Gale: And don't think I've forgotten! - Player - Option 3: Baldur's Gate lies many miles to the west. Don't get your hopes up. Gale: Too late for that. - Gale: Oh, I can picture it now: Academies, libraries, laboratories – the assembled knowledge of centuries that may just set us free. Better yet: soft beds, home cooked meals, and all the other little luxuries this wilderness so brashly denies us. Gale: Gods, I'd pay a king's ransom for a hot, lavender-scented bath – minstrels serenading as I close my eyes and let the water's warmth dissolve all woes. Hah! Plenty to look forward to.

player withholds artefacts

Gale: A word, if you please. Remember how I told you I was in *dire* need of magical artefacts to absorb? Clearly the matter has hardly been a priority of yours, but even so, you can consider it closed. I no longer require assistance – neither yours, nor that of artefacts. - Player - Option 1: I don't follow. This seems awfully sudden. Gale: Not at all. I've had a solution in mind for a while now, it just took me some time to... set it in motion. That's it – I won't take more of your time this lovely evening. Rest well. - Player - Option 2: Care to tell me why? Gale: Not really, no. I've had a solution in mind for a while now, it just took me some time to... set it in motion. That's it – I won't take more of your time this lovely evening. Rest well. - Player - Option 3: Good to know – and goodnight. Gale: Goodnight. - Player - Option 1 [Wisdom check]: Something's off. Try to connect with Gale without him noticing. [Failed] Narrator: You flutter through his mind like a bat through the night and you see... nothing but darkness. Gale: Up to tricks, are we? No matter. All you see is what I want you to see. In my mind, you are quite blind. - [success] Narrator: You flutter through his mind like a bat through the night and you see... fire. You hear laughter. You smell brimstone. Mocking words drift back to you. “This is the House of Hope”. Gale: [disapproves] Stop that! How dare you... Forget whatever it was you saw. It's all beyond you now anyway. - Player - Option 1: You too, Gale. [conversation ends] - Player - Option 2: Gale, what did you do? Gale: No more than what I had to – and that's all I'll say on the matter. - Player - Option 3: We'll let all this rest for now but it will be addressed again later. Gale: Much later. If ever. - Player - Option 4: I don't think I want you around any longer. Gale: Suit yourself. Like I said: I no longer require your assistance. Farewell. [Gale permaleaves the party]

as you can see, it's heavily implied that gale, if left with no choices and no support, would seek out raphael to make a deal, to ensure that the orb is soothed, assuring the survival of others as well as his own.

4. curing gale's condition

i touched on this topic in another more detailed post here, too. for the sake of thoroughness, i want to include parts of what i touched in this post, here too.

in a previous point, i also touched on the fact that gale revealing his condition was, as it is in full release, very much a two-part story. the first in only the vague details, the second, where he shares his mind and memories with the protag, the full entire story.

this was very much the same in early access: here, you could spend the night with gale at the tiefling party. come morning, he would share the full story of how he came to be afflicted with the orb and also muse about possible ways to cure it.

i'll be sharing the relevant parts of the conversation only as it's quite long and will be the topic of another post entirely:

karsus's story

Gale: Here goes; once upon a time, very long ago, a mighty lord lived in a tower. A flying tower to be precise. I’ll save his story for another time, but the gist of it is that he sought to usurp the goddess of magic so that he could become a god himself. He almost managed but not quite, and his entire empire – Netheril – came crashing down around him as he turned to stone. Gale: The magic unleashed that day was phenomenal, rolling like the prime chaos that outdates creation. A fragment of it was caught and sealed away in a book. No ordinary book, mind you; a tome of gateways that contained within it a bubble of Astral Plane. It was a fragment of primal Weave locked out of time – locked away from Mystra herself. ‘What if’, the silly wizard thought. ‘What if after all this time, I could return this lost part of herself to the Goddess?”

possible ways to cure the orb

Player: What would permanently rid you of the orb? Gale: The orb was kept safe and inert in a pocket of Astral Plane, suspended in time. If I can somehow manage to expel it from my body while in the Astral Plane, it will be rendered inert again. Alternatively, I could learn to control it’s chaotic magic, that is; to succeed where I failed before. But without Mystra’s favour, I don’t see how that may come to pass. Of course there could be different answers as well. Faerun brims with more magic than any one wizard could fathom, let alone comprehend. Who knows what outlandish solutions may yet present themselves?

i think it's quite clear from here, as well as other clues presented in the game like repeated conversations between lae'zel and gale about the astral plane that survived early access, but ultimately don't lead anywhere, that the key to curing gale's condition in early access lay with finding a way to the astral plane and expelling the orb there.

conclusion & personal opinion

personally, i really like the story line that was set up for gale in early access. mostly because it made sense on several levels: lore-wise, the mechanics presented, gale's condition was severe and it was treated with the weight it deserved. no one made jokes about slurping up artefacts like carrots or wine. it required actual artefacts of power to be soothed, not mediocre amulets, rings or random +1 weapons.

we know now that a lot was cut from the full release version of the game, including things that would have been absolute key points of gale's story line: candlekeep and the astral plane.

in full release we are left with these clues that go nowhere and with a story line that's not only downgraded from potential god killer to fetch quest at a book shop and a narratively questionable confrontation with mystra. gale's condition now, it's everything the game needs it to be at the moment it's needed:

it's urgent when it needs to be, but it's not when it doesn't (long lack of dialogue between the artefacts not working and the beginning of act 2).

it can be soothed and ultimately cured by mystra but it's also extremely dangerous to her and the weave.

gale needs it to be removed if he wishes to live, but he's also fine in the epilogue if only his ambition (???) is soothed and so the orb goes dormant on its own.

it's everything. it's nothing.

still, if you made it this far, i want to thank you for reading my meta!

🖤

taglist:

@chainsawmascara, @randomfanner, @tacogoats, @flower-khajiit

@gwinharper, @galesenchantedpanties, @swampfaerie, @ardently-queer, @nirraein

@gale-enjoyer, @xiv-wolfram, @kairoswouldnever, @a-psychopathic-dream, @toboldlydammitjim

@vcxahlia, @fitzmagus, @deliciousrizzard, @messiahzzz

early access series:

part 1: gale's three tadpole dreams part 2 a: the deer stew scene part 2b: the loss scene part 3: 23 cut conversations with gale part 4: gale's condition & the orb in early access part 5: the tiefling party, the goblin party, friendship and romance

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 meta #bg3 early access #ch: gale dekarios #vg: baldur's gate 3 #series: baldur's gate #series: ea dialogue #meta: mybg3 #long post for ts

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y-rhywbeth2 · 6 months

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Gods and Clergy: Bhaal

Link: Disclaimer regarding D&D "canon" & Index [tldr: D&D lore is a giant conflicting mess. Larian's lore is also a conflicting mess. You learn to take what you want and leave the rest]

I'm in a Durge and Orin mood, so we're getting the full details on Bhaal and his priesthood now. Fun fact, did you know the Dark Urge couldn't even die without Daddy's permission?

Featuring:

Intro: Do you realise this cult is basically a crime syndicate supported by the rich and powerful?

Priests: Hierarchy. Responsibilities. Murder. I rather like the ceremonial regalia, personally.

Deathstalkers: Teleporting! Killing people with your mind! Unlimited ressurections courtesy of Bhaal!! And yet more crazy shit!

Bhaal: Kitten thinks of nothing but murder all day. Also mortal backstory and the Slayer is absolutely nothing like the games depict it

Right then, "Bhaal awaits thee," and blah.

"Make all folk fear Bhaal. Let your killings be especially elegant, or grisly, or seem easy so that those observing them are awed or terrified. Tell folk that gold proffered to the church can make the Lord of Murder overlook them for today." - Bhaal's Dogma

Unsurprisingly for an ex-assassin, Bhaal is the patron god of assassins. Assassins, mercenaries, bounty hunters who aren't bringing their quarry in alive and, presumably, executioners all tend to send a prayer to Bhaal for success. Faithful were called Bhaalyn in the East and Bhaalists in the West. As BG3 takes place in Western Faerûn we'll use the latter.

Amongst these assassin worshippers we find the oh-so healthy individuals for whom killing is more than a job. These killers who regard their murders as a "pastime and a duty" join the clergy.

That said, Bhaalists do not murder indiscriminately. The taking of another life is a holy act, a lot of thought and planning goes into both the kill itself as well as what impact the death may have upon the world. Once the target is slain, they are to smear the victim's blood over their hands and draw Bhaal's symbol by the body with it. If Bhaal is pleased then the blood will vanish.

Bhaal supports and encourages his followers attaining wealth and comfort (it's a good hook to draw them in, and it makes him look good if his followers are successful), and in exchange for their worship his priest-assassins receive the priest spells and administer to the lay worshippers, who benefit second-hand. The assassins have an easier time killing people and getting rich and Bhaal profits from more prayer and death. A win for everyone (who didn't die in the process).

Bhaalist temples historically have spent their time founding and sponsoring guilds of assassins and thieves, including infamous organisations such as the Shadow Thieves of Amn. These guilds survived their patron's death, and while they were mostly businesses throughout the years of Bhaal's death many still paid homage (although there was some confusion involving his replacement, Cyric) and have presumably resumed worship. There's a massive old temple still functioning over in Thay; the Tower of Swift Death, and the assassins work closely with the Red Wizards who rule the country.

Bhaalists have no tolerance for rival guilds and organisations not following Bhaal (which would make them independent of their control) and will eliminate them. They will also root out anybody in the area that will attempt to oppose or otherwise interfere in their business and ensure they have freedom to go about their jobs/worship.

Their other job is to ensure the church has a steady income. They terrorise the commoners into paying tithes in exchange for safety from being sacrificed this tenday (a protection racket, basically) while leaving "economically and socially important individuals live unharmed." I mean, the peasantry have far less enemies to assassinate and gold to spend, so. Plus the rich and powerful are brilliant at turning a blind eye to crime when it benefits them, as well as making sure the evidence never sees the light of day - know which side your bread is buttered on, and all. Baldur's Gate has no law against the worship of Bhaal. Why do you think the original temple exists, after all? Bhaalists actively seek out and sway such potential patrons who would be... amenable to sponsoring and protecting their technically-legal church and its not so-legal activities in exchange for their services.

Urban temples of Bhaal are usually dark, subterranean affairs built under the city streets, containing countless branching tombs that are home to the bodies of the clergy's victims - said victims are usually wandering around down there as restless undead.

Bhaal's clergy can be recognised as Bhaalists by their ceremonial robes - full body robes of black or deep purple with a deep cowl. The robes will be randomly and violently streaked with flashes of violet. Their entire face is fully obscured by a black veil, to both hide their identity and make it appear as though the hood is empty for the intimidation factor.

The leader of the church in an area is the High Primate/Primistress, who can be identified by a red belt/sash they wear over their robes and the fancy curved ceremonial dagger that marks them as a high ranking priest and a specialty priest known as a Deathstalker - more about them in a moment.

High Primates spent much of their time planning the proper strategies of manipulating nearby rulers, inhabitants, and organizations into the deeds and behaviour that the Bhaalyn desired.

The High Primate is directly served by the First Deaths, who in turn can call upon a council of the nine most senior clergy; the Cowled Deaths. Below them were the regular priests, who were known collectively as the Deathdealers and are referred to by the title Slaying Hand. A Bhaalist rises in the ranks by hunting and ritually killing a target with nothing but their bare hands, which they will then report to a higher ranking priest who will confirm that they are being truthful. If they are then there's a party, and a ritual sacrifice is held to celebrate.

When on a job they dress in black - in the form that suits whatever their preferred method of killing in. Leather armour, mage robes, whatever.

Bhaalists pray to their god before sleep. In the temple the entire congregation comes together to pray in a formal ceremony called "Day's Farewell"). Bhaalists are also to pray before setting out on a murder.

Bhaalists only observe one holy day. It's the Feast of the Moon, a continent-wide holiday for honouring the dead and honouring one's ancestors. Bhaalists have their own spin on it where they remember dead Bhaalists and celebrate with stories of murder to honour them.

All Bhaalists are to commit a murder every tenday at midnight, should they be unable to fulfil this duty then they are to kill two people in place of the one who should've died that day. Before the victim dies, the murderer is to ensure that they know their killer and that they died as a sacrifice to the God of Death; "Bhaal awaits thee, Bhaal embraces thee, none escape Bhaal."

The specialty priests of Bhaal, those who dedicate their devotion and worship no god other than him, are the Deathstalkers.

One does not have to be a cleric to join the ranks, though the majority are. Rogues, rangers, barbarians and fighters are the most common, but all classes make an appearance (and most are multiclassed clerics)

To become a Deathstalker one must have murdered sixteen sapient creatures in sixteen different methods with sixteen different weapons. This presumably is also the rite of passage to becoming a member of the Brethren of the Keen Strike - an order of Bhaalist assassins to which all Deathstalkers belong.

Distressingly for people who aren't Bhaalist, Bhaal's Deathstalkers regained their Bhaalist abilities around 1372 DR, following the end of the Bhaalspawn Crisis, and resumed their duties, spreading death and terror in his name as they worked to bring him back to full power. The most popular argument for how the priests of a dead deity were getting their spells is that another god - likely Cyric, was granting them spells disguised as Bhaal. However, in the wake of the Bhaalspawn Crisis and the wave of fear felt towards Bhaal that resulted (which counts as prayer), the rumour mill became very fond of the idea that, despite how the crisis ended, Bhaal had still managed to resurrect at least some scrap of himself through that fear and the God of Murder was haunting the Realms once more.

The various abilities Bhaal gifts to his Deathstalkers include the following:

[From 3.5e] The ability to identify key weaknesses in a target by studying them for only a few moments, killing them in a single strike. They are also supernaturally good at stabbing people with their ceremonial daggers.

[3.5e] The ability to tap into the hatred of a person, stoking it into homicidal rage and direct it at another person who they will kill in a mindless bloody rage (also called the Urge to Slay, an ability Bhaal himself has)

[3.5e] Bhaal's own inability to just fucking stay dead - a Deathstalker Bhaal doesn't want dead will come back to life an hour after it is killed, with a single hit point left. During the time prior to resurrection they are an actual corpse.

[2e] They can point at a person, sending necrotic energy coursing through them and causing them significant damage, agony and possibly death.

[2e] They can inflict severe wounds on a person just by thinking it.

[2e] They can teleport! A Deathstalker can teleport themselves (and other people, if they're powerful enough) to the Throne of Blood and from there they can teleport to anywhere on Toril that isn't protected by warding magic. Bhaal won't do anything to protect Deathstalkers while they're in the Lower Planes - if you're strong enough to get yourself here, you're strong enough to get yourself out.

[2e] They can affect the emotions of those around them, reversing whatever emotions an individual is feeling towards them into its polar opposite.

[2e] They can accelerate the entropic aging process of objects.

Bhaal himself is "violent, cruel and hateful at all times." Being in the presence of the living fills him with an overwhelming urge to kill and destroy. He presents himself as either on the verge of a violent rampage or cold and ruthlessly calculating depending on which suits the occasion best. A Lawful Evil deity, his domain is the Throne of Blood in the first layer of the Lower Plane of Gehenna (Khalas), part of Bane's domain (Banehold). Hilariously, not a single Baldurs Gate game has got this right. BG2:SoA claimed it was the Hells, BG2:ToB changed to the Abyss and, for some reason, BG3 has put it in the Grey Wastes.

Bhaal served Bane, and was in turn served by Loviatar (goddess of pain) and Talona (goddess of disease).

His holy symbol is the Circle of Tears; clue in the name, it's a skull surrounded by teardrops of blood forming a circle.

Bhaal rarely manifested in avatar form. When he did, his main avatar in urban areas was the Slayer, which was not a four armed scaly monster:

"The Slayer look[s] like a corpse with a feral face, [bloodless] skin, and deep lacerations that endlessly [weep] black ichor that vanish[es] before it strikes anything."

It makes no noise at all when it moves. it can talk (its softly spoken and sounds creepy). It can levitate at will and summon floating daggers made of bone, that appeared and disappeared at will. They would cause any living flesh they hit to wither and die. Creatures slain this way would rise again as zombies under its control - or have its skeleton shattered into more bone daggers. Enough of these daggers form an area-of-effect; a wall made of a flurry of sharp shards of bone that would trap the soul of anyone they killed. Oh, yeah, and the Slayer can also inflict the overwhelming urge to murder everyone around you on the people around it.

Bhaal's other avatar was the Ravager, which was mostly an angry 30-foot tall giant with horns.

While in either avatar form, Bhaal also had the ability to create any form of undead loyal to him by touching a corpse (greater undead like vampires would be free once they'd completed whatever task he'd assigned them). He could also immediately destroy any undead, turning them to dust at a touch. Bhaal cannot be harmed by the undead.

Rather than using his avatars, Bhaal usually just manifested as a pair of flying undead hands that can shoot bone daggers at people. Or a laughing human skull trailing teardrops. Both these manifestations are capable of speech, casting darkness and driving everybody into a mindless bloodthirsty rampage - you might have noticed he really loves this trick.

He also invented his own undead monsters, the Harrla of Hate. Harrla are invisible creatures, which if you use magic to see them appear like human shaped wavering impressions. Guess what they do?? If you guessed "fill people with a sense of overpowering hatred and drive people into committing homicide" get yourself a fucking cookie!! (This isn't said anywhere in canon, but Bhaal has less imagination than a chunk of rock, I swear to god...)

According to one version of the story; in life Bhaal was a Netherese mortal wizard named Tharlagaunt Bale. He was one of a few hand picked by Jergal to bear a fragment of the god's divinity and raised from a young age to serve him (a Chosen, basically). Hilariously, one of the others was Karsus. These Chosen were promised godhood for their service as they set about performing a ritual to increase Jergal's waning power and make him one of the most powerful deities. Karsus chose to try and make himself a god instead and blew up the Weave, destroying Netheril and the plan and killing all of his coworkers except Bale.

Bale got a job as an assassin, changed the spelling to Bhaal and dropped his first name, teamed up with a bitter ex-slave with no name except the title "Bane of the Ancients" and a necromancer prince called Myrkul Bey al-Kursi.

His other backstory features him as Arabhal; the spymaster and chief assassin of the Netherese City of Rdiuz, and an ally of Bane. The two became unwitting paws of Jergal, who directed them through nightmares to do his bidding and slay various primordial divinities who threatened his plans.

Regardless of backstory, they all grabbed more divinity by killing an ancient god (also Bane's ex-master) and then he went knocking on his old boss' door for that godhood he was promised (Jergal at this point had embraced depression and just went "yeah, whatever, have it. Idgaf, I'm retiring." Or was manipulating them into becoming his divine pawns. There's more than one take on this story.) and Bhaal walked off the god of murder.

He learned of a prophecy predicting he would die when his stupid ex-travelling companions would decide to piss of Ao who would then kick all the gods out and make them mortal, and Bhaal then decided to sleep with what seems to be at least 25% of Faerûn to produce kids who would hold fragments of himself so that they could all fight to the death and he could resurrect himself afterwards. He was killed by the soon-to-be-god Cyric not far from Baldur's Gate during the Time of Troubles. Cyric proceeded to take his job, and there was a huge fight between Bhaalists who converted and those who didn't and the converts killed all the holdouts.

The rest of the backstory is basically just the original Baldur's Gate games.

#Durge is basically a crime boss #Also; Bhaal please have more than one fucking idea for once in your fucking miserable life I AM BEGGING YOU #dark urge #orin the red #long post #bg3 #durge #the dark urge #baldurs gate 3

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sorcerous-caress · 7 months

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How do you think the party would react if Tav was a Fallen Aasimar? I sure it hinges on the God's aliment. What if it was a God they worship?

Reacting to a fallen aasimar Tav

[Bg3, fluff, nb!reader]

[Shadowheart, Wyll, Karlach, Halsin, Astarion, Gale, Minthara, Laezel]

You used to serve a god they worship/worshipped. I took some liberties with the godless characters.

Shadowheart - Selune

Assuming it happens either after the game ends or in an alternative universe where Shadowheart never abandoned Selune. Then she'd be very conflicted.

What could you have possibly done to have the most gentle of goddesses stripping your wings? Moonlight melting your silvery feathers until they're nothing but abyssal black and ash.

Her lady is wise, therefore she will be very wary of you. Yet at the same time, she can't help but feel a sense of familiarity when she looks at you. It drives away her prejudice for a moment and lets her judge you for your action, no matter how blasphemous the act of questioning her goddess's judgment might be.

Wyll - Tyr

To fall from celeste is to become a fiend. How are you any better than the devils below in the hells?

If he was his younger self, he wouldn't have hesitated to deliver you to justice, and yet the horns on his own head weight heavy like a crown paid for in a lifetime of experience. He knows better than anyone that nothing is ever what it seems like.

This Wyll is wiser, more understanding and open. He's willing to extend the same courtesy to you that he wished someone would've done to him before.

Let him hear you out, friend. Tell him what befelled this fate upon you.

Karlach - Tymora

She is more confused about how you managed to anger the smiling lady herself. It takes a special kind of asshole to turn their back on good fortune and lady luck.

An aasimar at that too? A messenger of luck?

She's never been big on the whole religion thing, to be honest with you, yet the wamrth and good fortune her goddess extended to her is still one of the best gifts she has ever been given.

So what happened? How did this even happen?

She'd never be hostile towards you nor exlude you as long as you don't do anything sinister. She genuinely belives in sharing her good fortune with everyone no matter who.

Halsin - Silvanus

Oak father preserve him. To Halsin, seeing you brings as much joy to him as seeing the shadow curse spread.

His God's teachings aren't that hard to follow, just respect the natural order and preserve all living beings. He has been diligently upholding this code through his life and spreading the teachings back at the grove.

Yet, the oak father himself marked you as an endangerment to the very being of nature. To the ancient trees and sprouting spring flowers, you reprsent the slithering all-consuming wither and rot.

He is very uncomfortable around you, not just on his guard, but you can see that he would rather be anywhere else than near you. Yet, feels like he had to keep an eye on you just in case you burn down a forest or something behind his back.

Astarion - Corellon

Honestly, he doesn't even remember worshipping the old elf or anything. He just assumes it given his previous stature and ancestry.

Not that the self-proclaimed protector of all elves has ever given him a single second of his time since he became an undead. No matter how much he prayed, it seems that the blood running through his veins barely counted anymore when it wasn't his own blood to begin with.

Fuck him, along all the other gods who turned their back on him for 200 hundred years of pure shit. It's a good thing you fell, he tells you, at least now your powers are yours alone. What's a god if not just another master to get you to do their biddings?

He is interested in you, mostly in your powers, to be more precise.

But it also encourages you to seek your own path and never think of grovelling for forgiveness or your feathers back.

Gale - Mystra

He makes a lame ass joke about if that makes him your stepfather. Dad puns included.

Surprisingly, he doesn't make a big deal out of it, even if it was before he fully got over his ex.

He's a scholar first and a lover second. He is genuinely very interested in learning about you and aasimars. Meeting one in a lifetime is a miracle. They're so rare that they're barely documented even. So imagine meeting a fallen one? He is beyond intrigued by you and your nature.

Sure, your morality might come into question, but he will worry about that later. For now, he is more interested in inspecting your wings and asking borderline intrusive questions about how serving Mystra was like.

Evil alligned deities.

Aasimars don't have many rules about them in dnd, but for one, they are classified as celestial beings. So technically, they can't ever serve evil alligned gods. It's never officially stated, tho so it is up to interpretation.

Devils or fiends serve the evil deities instead, so i thought why not make the reason the aasmire fell is because they decided to serve the evil god for the character.

In the next headcanons, falling is considered a good thing. Whoever your previous good god was that you used to serve, you abandoned them and went to serve an evil deity instead which is why you fell.

Laezel - Vlaakith

A good choice, a wise choice even. Laezel might not be versed much in the gods pantheon but she is sure whoever your old deity was, they couldn't have compared to her queen.

You have her respect, the same respect she'd extend to a kitherak even. In her eyes, you're the embodiment of the red dragon and rider knight both in one. Your wings and shinning blade speak for themselves.

She is honoured, fascinated too. Yet her admiration is a double edged sword, for she will hold you to impossible standards and consider it meeting the bare minimum.

Minthara - Lolth

She almost pities you, willingly becoming another pawn in this endless chessboard of drow conflict. Another gem to decorate Lolth's whip with as she inflicts it on whoever she sees fit.

Either you're foolishly naive or a complete masochist to dedicate yourself to the spider queen. Either way, she will test you herself to see exactly what you're made of.

As someone who abandoned Lolth, she'd be wary of anyone who serves her goddess. Yet you haven't cut off her head yet, how strange?

Minthara doesn't hide her disdain for Lolth around you, both warning you of the cruel fate awaiting you no matter how much of a good pet you're to your goddess.

For the longer you stay loyal to Lolth, the more of an endangerment you become to Minthara herself.

Shadowheart - Shar

Another child of the darkness, another sibling of the night to guide her through this journey. Shadowheart thinks your meeting was fate, a reward from her dark lady.

Especially if you saved her from the ship, she'd see you as her hero, a shining black diamond amonst the rubble and mud.

Mirroring how Laezel would've acted in fact, their dangerous fickle admiration of you that you never asked for would force a magnifying glass over both your flaws while exaggerating your achievements.

She doesn't hide her Shar worship from you this time around. She is proud, especially by you by her side. She will be your shield and recovery as long as you be her sword and wings.

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rookthorne · 10 months

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⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐅𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐁𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐤𝐢𝐫

War thrummed through the blood of a Viking warrior, it was a known phenomenon, and it wasn’t to be questioned nor tested. But what lay beneath the surface of your Viking was far more than that, and his wrath would be a testament to Tyr in his vengeance.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ⇁ Viking!Bucky Barnes x Fae!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ⇁ 1.5k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ⇁ Heavy angst, whump, dark themes, graphic injuries + gore and violence, touch her and you die to the extreme, fluff, a certain someone makes an appearance

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 ⇁ This is my first attempt at dark themes, and I wrote this to help funnel my pain into something. ⇁ SC, if it weren’t for your song rec, this wouldn’t have happened. Thank you for taking my pain and helping me turn it into something that I can be proud of. I love you.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒔 ⇁ Tyr by Wadruna ⇁ Taina by Schepetkov, 2WEI

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒂 ⇁ @smutconnoisseur

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐤𝐨𝐠𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Dark shadows extended over the path before you, and you whimpered quietly. The pain of movement, the sheer excruciating labour of moving each limb one by one, had become far too much to bear, and by the Gods, you were knocking on the Aesir’s door.

Blood pooled and dripped in your wake from the open wound on your side, and the scrapes and slashes to your legs and arms stung viciously.

Cloudiness had seeped from the inky sky to your vision, creeping in tendrils from the edges of your consciousness, and had started to consume you from the inside out.

Bucky – where was Bucky? You scanned the trees around you, desperation welling up from the depths of your being at the lack of a proud snorting steed, or the lack of Bucky’s rasped voice after hours and hours of searching for you.

You hadn’t meant to venture so far in your determination to find a gift for your Bear, a price you would pay right there on the forest floor – succumb to the loss of life essence and be taken by the Valkyrie.

And there was nothing you could do to prevent it.

Time dragged as you pushed on, each breath more painful than the last. You had no idea who the men that attacked you were – no idea as to why they hunted you for sport. Maybe that was a lie – you knew deep down precisely the reason, but you had been claimed by one of the fiercest Hersir known to the sagas.

How could this have happened?

“Mouse!” a voice bellowed, and you shrunk back, cowering in fear – blood loss and hysteria had long taken your senses and interpretation of reality. “Mouse! Mouse, fuck–can you hear me, little one?”

You blinked and glanced up. The snow white fur of Bucky’s steed, Ragnar, filled your vision – but that was not possible. The God’s were offering you one last favour, one last chance to see him before you perished, surely.

Unbidden, your hand reached out to touch the soft, scratchy fur of Ragnar’s shoulder, only you met with resistance. The strong muscle and bone of a mount from Hel was under your touch, tough and resistant to even Death’s own hands. “Rag-”

“Mouse, darling,” the voice continued a little louder. “Can you hear me?”

Slowly, you looked up to meet the gaze of the spectre, but it was Bucky. You blinked hard, and your hand touched his chest – the solid bulk unmoving under your gentle hand. “Bear?”

“It is me,” Bucky rushed, and you felt his hands on your elbows. “What in Thor’s name happened?!”

Pain laced through your side, and you crumpled to the floor, the impact only lessened by Bucky’s grip. “Hurts…”

“Darling, please–God’s please, I need you to get up. Get up,” Bucky pleaded, the crack in his usual stoic tone siphoned alarm down your spine and through your being. “Up–Ragnar, here,” he continued, and the stallion snorted and stomped his hoof as he stepped closer. “He will keep you safe.”

A low nicker was the last thing you registered before Bucky lifted you bodily up off the moss-strewn ground of the trail and into Ragnar’s saddle. “Stay. Protect her, boy,” he ordered, pulling free his axe. It was then you heard more heavy footsteps and war cries in the distance.

“Bear,” you whimpered, reaching for him, but Ragnar turned, stepping back with his ears flat. “Please.”

“Stay.” The sharp, decorated axe gleamed in the dying light of the moon. Bucky advanced forward alone and unprotected, with no hesitance or qualm of facing the possible army.

Figures appeared on the trail ahead of Bucky, and they stopped. A scream had lodged itself in your throat at the sight of them, and Ragnar growled, his sides heaving with angry breaths.

The advancing war party hollered and called upon the sight of the lone Hersir; and you managed a glance at their battered shields – they were from an unknown clan of unknown origin, and it was plain as day that they had only hate in their hearts.

“You touched what was mine!” Bucky called, his voice filled with vitriol and fury. “And by the God’s, if you do not turn around and go back to whatever Hel you crawled from…” The axe glinted with bloodthirsty intent, and you watched Bucky square his broad shoulders – a stance of a bear preparing for battle. “You will find yourself in the pits where no hope for Valhalla will come.”

Ragnar pawed the ground and breathed heavily, the feel of his muscled back tensing and preparing to battle unmistakable.

Silence filled the trail – a tangible thing you could taste like the blood on your tongue.

“We will take what we claimed,” one of the men rallied, his sword handle banging against the worn wood of his battered shield. “And you cannot stop us!”

You watched Bucky stand stock still as the men closed in one by one until he tilted his head. “Well…” Something changed in the air – thick with poison and the stench of rotting flesh. “May the God’s cast you from Valhalla for having the gall to touch what is mine.”

War cries and shouts filled the air, and Bucky launched forward into the battlement of men, roaring his fury – blades flew and clashed in a hail of sparks as the war party surrounded him, but each blow glanced off his back as though he was made of iron.

“Bear!” you screamed as they overwhelmed him, and Ragnar bellowed, a sound that should never leave such a creature so kind.

It was like you were melded to his back as Ragnar ploughed forward, headstrong into the clashing men. Leaving you to watch in awestruck horror as Ragnar’s teeth clamped onto the back of one man’s neck and pulled him back – the once fierce warrior now slumped to the ground with his head stuck in a jaunted angle.

“Ragnar! Hlaup!” Bucky growled, and Ragnar backed away, mouth stained with blood and his sides still heaving. “Go, take her!”

Hooves stomped the forest floor as Ragnar reared and bellowed back, staying steadfast.

The sound of even more hooves on the trail caught your attention amongst the warring battle. You turned to see a black steed carrying a man – blond hair flying behind him, and you gasped as the black steed skidded to a halt beside Ragnar.

“Buck!” the man yelled, dismounting.

“Get back!” Bucky replied – still swinging his axe. “Protect her!”

The blond man looked at you and baulked. “By the Gods,” he rushed, coming closer. “You are paler than death, sweet one,” he continued, his hand on your thigh.

A roar from the battle made you both look up to find Bucky in the throes of bloodlust, his teeth grit and face painted crimson. The axe in his hand swung and swiped a man over the throat, downing him in a gurgling heap – another was hit in the flank, the iron meeting tissue and sinew with a squelch.

“You will not,” Bucky shouted, pulling the axe free and turning to meet the last four men head on. “Touch what is mine!” Each word was followed by a swing of his axe – now wet and slick with blood.

All of the war party had fallen at Bucky’s feet – a perfect circle of bloodied corpses that painted the earth with rivers and pools of blood.

Silence reigned, and you started to sob with relief at the sight of Bucky standing victorious over the hunting party. You watched Bucky’s shoulders rise and fall with a laborious effort – the bloodlust clearly starting to fade with the loss of adversaries.

“Bucky,” the blond man cautiously said, his tone still firm. “Come back, you’re not there. You protected her.”

Before you could think better of it, you slid from Ragnar’s saddle – the spell long gone, and you limped as fast as you could to the towering Viking, still sobbing heartily with relief. “Bear–Bear, please!”

“Mouse,” he breathed, falling to his knees on the soaked ground. You collided with his chest with a wet slap, and you gripped at his shoulders, his back – anywhere you could find purchase as you wept from the fear, pain, and the relief. “You are safe, I have you.”

You looked up from Bucky’s neck to see a shadow down the path – a wolf, grey in colour, with white, glowing eyes. The creature watched you for a moment before it turned and evaporated into wisps of smoke.

Footsteps on the sodden ground behind you brought you back to reality.

“Let us get her home–our home,” the blond man said softly, his hand on Bucky’s other shoulder. “Her wounds will need tending to.”

Bucky nodded, and as he stood, you were swept up from the ground in one fluid motion. Hoofbeats splashed on the blood soaked ground, and you blinked hazily as Ragnar nosed at your thigh. “Good boy,” Bucky whispered. “Thank you.”

Ragnar blinked at Bucky and turned, offering his side. “Let us go home.”

hlaupa = run

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #rookthorne's works

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crossdressingdeath · 6 months

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Wyll: And [Ulder]'s back in his element - commanding the Flaming Fist with brave heart and no shortage of empathy. The likes of Gortash can bend people's minds with a few chosen words, no tadpole needed. Bane's Chosen primed the Fist for a war they weren't meant to win. He convinced them there was an assassin hiding in every shadow, that cruelty was the correct answer to crisis. With a few exceptions, Father's pardoned every last Fist. 'If my forgiveness not be Tyr's will, so be it. I shall forgive them all the same.' His words, not mine.

Oh, I see. The big mean manipulator told them to do it, so all those Fists harassing and threatening people in the streets only reflects badly on Gortash. Why should the Fists be punished? Hey, fun fact: if you talk to Jaheira about her kids she'll mention that Rion temporarily rejoined the Fist and keeps having to throw her colleagues in jail for stealing from the money set aside for reconstruction and such. Is Gortash making them do that from beyond the grave?

There's just something so sad about Wyll never realizing just how much his father sucks. Like... Rion is having to arrest her colleagues for corruption. Do the "few exceptions" include those people? Or is Ulder forgiving them too? He's showing empathy to the Fists, but what about the people we see scared and hurt as the Fists use the Steel Watchers to torment them all through act three? Where's the empathy for them? Wyll, please, your father does not deserve this loyalty from you, please consider what it actually means that he's decided on his own that his troops should be pardoned for everything they did just because Gortash had a silver tongue.

#bg3 #bg3 spoilers #wyll ravengard #ulder ravengard #ulder sucks what else is new

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tiredassmage · 4 months

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54%. Describe your character's favorite possession. Where did they get it, and why are they so attached?

coughs. this one's from a while ago. sorry friends. >.> [battery percentage-themed oc asks]

I'm going to use this as an invitation to take something I know I've talked about in piecemeal style in maybe one or two places and actually put Tyr on blast (affectionate) about it, lmao. And that's Tyr and nostalgia, in a way.

But more specifically, the single possession Tyr's ever had any kind of deep attachment to that ignores his every attempt to move away from it, no matter how rational the argument may be, is the Phantom.

To stand for a bit on my oc soapbox, nostalgia, in a way, is sort of a central theme to Tyr. I've spoken to a notable extent about how his identity as Cipher Nine (or... what might be the lack thereof, to others) and his history with Imperial Intelligence is a point of personal pride for him, to this day. He is proud of it. He's still loyal to that notion of it in his mind - to the sentiment that made him sign on, to that core team that surrounded him for so much of his career.

And the Phantom is, after this long, the only thing that's truly left of that version of Imperial Intelligence. Its name is fitting in a whole new way, isn't it? The flight deck is filled with the phantoms of his past - the specters and apparitions of those ideals, those loyalties, the bonds forged and the challenges faced. No longer simply a phantom in speaking of its primary owner being a Cipher, but... the one tangible sign that Tyr... hasn't let go of some things. Maybe he never will.

There's a part of him that'd reason it should've gotten him killed by now, sure. That kind of thing is taught to them as a liability. But I also think the older he gets, the longer he's spent in the role of Alliance Commander... It's certainly not cockiness, or any real sense of assurance, but the galaxy has changed, and so has his role in it, as much as he still has trouble quite defining it in a way that speaks of his personal desires and connections of it.

It's not that he's always consciously thinking of the ship in this way, but I think it's settled as a part of him, if you will. It's the one thing he'll have a hard time laying to rest even when he finally successfully walks away from the demands of his career. It's at times symbolic of the perhaps one piece of himself, as molded as it was to fit the needs of becoming Cipher Nine, that he's not quite willing to part with, give up, or let anyone change any further. It's a badge of that pride in the people and experiences that forged him, and who he wanted to be as a younger man. There is perhaps always going to be maybe a sliver of him, maybe far more reminiscent of an excitable teen with their first driver's license (or flying, in this case) gripped in hand that'll always wish... just one more flight. Just one more.

There was a rare kind of peace, a rare taste of hope in watching the expanse of stars blur and reach beyond the definition of space on the bridge. Tyr hasn't gotten a lot of proper goodbyes with many of the people he's loved and respected in his life. He's not sure he's ready to finally say it, but that ship's maybe the only place it'd feel right to do so.

#answered #ch: tyr #imperial agent #sniffles. guy who just feels so fuckING MUCH god. what the hell tyr #catch me making a screaming kitten face and noise even though i did that to him i knew this but it just. hrhghghghlfkndf #sir. sir i have emotions about you #swtor ocs #it was some of the best and some of the worst.#i'm not sure anything short of his death or a catastrophic failure of the vessel could really make him ground this ship for good #he'd rather make the more illogical choice of fucking with clearance tags and dipping into blackmail and bribery than ever leave it #grounding her for the versions of shadow of revan in which he does cover work with lana theron and jakarro like. hurt his soul tbh.#like he'll do it but FUCK at what cost

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punishandenslavesuckers · 7 months

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Baldur’s Gate 3 Fic Masterlist

To be updated as I go along but I’ve been getting hyped on a variety of discord servers and therefore cranking out a lot of these soooo… here we go. NOTE: Mind the tags on all my content. It’s mature rated and dark.

Astarion Origin Series: Inspired by my recent Astarion Origin run where the dynamics of the Tavless party got me hooked on party dynamics. Astarion-centric friends as family stuff. Kind of in sequential order but only ish.

The Pike - The night Cazador sealed Astarion in a tomb, there was something much worse on the table. Not that Astarion will appreciate that, the ungrateful little wretch. (Pre-game)

Empty Recall - Origin Astarion early night in Act 1 with his initial travel companion, who notices he doesn't rest easy.

Quick Step - As more and more people join the party Astarion becomes all that more disposable in comparison. AKA: Act 1 Astarion’s race from a true level one character to team rogue.

Strange Smile - Wyll, Karlach, and Lae’zel speak with a monster hunter in a bog and Astarion happens to be there. It’s a very awkward way to get outted as a vampire to your (mostly) unsuspecting teammates.

Cruel Touch - Karlach tells Astarion what kind of monster she ISN’T. Really. Honest. Cross her heart. Also they murder the fake paladins of Tyr nbd (NEW!)

Scar Tissue - Loviator blesses Astarion. It fucking sucks.

Silver-Tongue - Astarion fast-talks an abnormal number of enemies into killing themselves in the shadow-cursed lands and the team makes idle (then less idle) conversation about it.

Wander Mind - When a fight goes south, Astarion doubles down on using the illithid parasites and the rest of the team sees how deep his fears truly run. IE: Origin-run Astarion going full illithid power through Act 2 (WIP)

Ad Hoc Fic: stuff that’s not part of my gameplay verse and just requests or ideas that stand alone in their own canon.

Verbal Contract - Astarion takes Haarlep’s deal and immediately regrets it. AKA: The deal with Haarlep goes sideways and is played much more brutally straight.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fic #astarion #astarion ancunin #bg3fic #tavless

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kottkrig · 5 months

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To Embrace The Shadow: Repentance

The Shadow Mother sees things from a different perspective.

World of Warcraft | Original Characters

Light Angst | Found Family

In the Void, time had no meaning. Lucretia didn’t know how long she was stuck in it when every minute had her fighting to stay tethered to reality. She was a mind without a body, a consciousness desperately trying to stay awake. The ambush had disintegrated her form, forcing her back into the darkest of planes and trapping her there. She plunged so deep that she couldn’t witness the outcome above, and it was by the skin of her teeth that she managed to hook herself from falling any deeper. That man’s face was the last thing she saw before holy flames erupted in her core, and his gunshot was the last sound that echoed in her head. A regular bullet was pathetic against a living shadow, but those pistols had been blessed by a man who believed that what he did was righteous. He praised the Light as she burned in front of the people who she had promised to protect.

But the Shadow Mother would not have her calling cut short by a false redeemer. Lucretia was a stubborn old crone, spitefully refusing to die, and her days weren’t numbered until she counted them herself.

When she was stable enough to reach Tyr’s Fall, and she could see the lake from a different plane, she found it empty. Reverberating silence, taunted by whispers from the abyss. Lucretia had no idea how the ambush had ended, or if his minions were dealt with–or worse, if any of her people died–but she felt no biting Light there. This forest tipped in favor of the Void, and while she wasn’t yet strong enough to leave, she could recover where the veil between realms was thinner.

A few nights of meditation passed by, and she eventually caught visitors at the lake. They couldn’t see her, and she couldn’t risk being spotted when she was vulnerable, even when the people she saw were fellow Forsaken. If she returned prematurely, she made herself an easy target, and if murderous zealots were still a threat, they could destroy her for good. They were not the only ones who would love to see her dead. The first visitors were scouts coming to check the forest, later bringing along Dark Clerics to drain what Light still bled into their hallowed soil. Lucretia recognized their voices, but they weren’t credible enough to detect her when she didn’t have a body. She couldn’t even speak in her current condition. She chose to watch and wait for the right moment. More time passed, and less people came to the lake as it was restored. In a way, they helped Lucretia as well, as she could amass enough energy to construct a minor form. It wasn’t the one she made familiar to the dead and feared by the living; the Shadow Mother’s visage was too grand, still too risky for her to mantle. Instead, she chose to be a raven. Small and unassuming, as well as one of her favored animals.

The few who came in the coming nights were exclusively people from the cult. The forest could be used for its magical properties, especially the lake, and cultists sometimes visited to soak in liquid Shadow. Lucretia knew them all, and some she would even trust with her safety. She considered taking a dip herself, but it meant that she would have to cross the veil. As a raven, she might blend in, but it was still a risk that she wasn't keen on taking. She was not expecting three special people to make an appearance. In her relief to see her students safe and sound, she wanted to listen in, and felt no fear flying closer. It dawned upon her that one of them could still peer into the Void, as he froze when he faced her. While she could not be certain that leaving was safe, having them arrive to where she fell played on her emotions. She might not see them again anytime soon, and she wanted to help them, let them know that she wasn't gone. She took the risk. The second she unveiled herself to them, reality crashed over her like a tidal wave, and forced her to escape. It was a foolish move. She immediately felt tired when entering the mortal plane, but what's done is done. If she went back in when she was this frail, she might lose her form and fall much deeper. It would take even longer to recover, and she had to see what happened in her absence. However, her entrance would likely rustle the entire village and turn stares towards her, so when she flew back to Deathknell, she continued to hide and watch her people. Sister Zala readily came looking for her. The girl was impulsive and quick to anger, but if she really wanted something, her will was strong. An elf’s eyes could easily catch a raven among the trees, and it was just a matter of when she would. Lucretia hoped that she could hide long enough to recover a little bit more; it might allow her to safely move, as well as to see if her disciple would be tenacious. When she finally was discovered, Lucretia was forced to conceal her identity. She suspected that Zala already knew, but the situation had to be weighed first. Seeing the new burn scar on her cheek made Lucretia’s phantom heart sink, but the scar also proved that Zala had pulled through another hardship. Maintaining a safe distance, Lucretia let the elf continue to challenge her struggles with the Forgotten Shadow’s second tenet. The time eventually came, and Zala’s tears shifted from frustration to out of joy when they could communicate again. Her guile had them passing through the village with ease, and Lucretia was further heartened when Lafayette and Cletus were added to the reunion. She was worried for them and was glad to see them enduring. Staying with them, she was blessed to also see them growing. As their mentor, she had become complacent. They all knew that she surpassed them by far, and she was a strict teacher when the Forgotten Shadow was no easy religion to follow. Her high expectations led her to believe that she would be guiding them for a long, long time. Their dependency on her had her taking care of things she deemed too ambitious for them.

Her arrogance was what lowered her guard and led her to failing them. In the room they obtained, which was hardly built for four people, Lucretia was humbled by depending on her students. Lafayette, Zala and Cletus set aside the hard competition of the Shadow, where the strong lords over the weak, and took the incentive to help her. She tried objecting to them expending their energy on her, as she knew that she could recover on her own with time. In fact, she would accept being stuck in this state for months if it meant that she could witness her disciples blossoming together. But they were in charge here, not her.

Winter had claimed the land and kept people indoors. Lucretia stayed put and obliged with the trio's efforts to supply her with magic. She watched over Lafayette's attempts to rebuild his vision. He couldn’t completely restore it and was left nearsighted, with a sensitivity to brightness, but it was his own magic and he didn’t need anyone else to see. He wouldn’t let her, and she wouldn’t force it. Just watching him return to his beloved books warmed her spirit.

When Zala fetched them tools they needed–rare reagents from unfamiliar places–she returned exhausted and disheveled. Lucretia was always hesitant to let such an impatient and often aggressive character go too far beyond personally surveyed objectives, but she had to trust her student now. She could at least help Zala with planning and encourage her to be cautious when she walked in the Shadow. The ranger found enough success in her hunt, and her bruises were a reminder that while difficult to follow, Tenacity was the tenet made just for these situations. As long as she was smart about it. Cletus was the one that Lucretia saw the least, and the man she had to trust the most. His loyalty to her was flattering, but it was usually for egocentric reasons. He had a tendency to hog the spotlight and wasn't always good at hiding his satisfaction from surpassing lesser acolytes. Before, his drive for power led him to speaking over the other two, and he would likely have gloated in obtaining this authority, but something had shifted in Lucretia’s absence. While she was out of commission, Cletus was the one to cover for them. This time, he listened to the others–not just her–and made sure that they got what they needed.

As the new year progressed, they bestowed her with so much healing that she could use her full voice. The long winter nights propelled her recovery forward, and one promising eve, she stood between them and positively radiated with magic.

So much energy was exuding from this little raven that it would have to be put in a body that was better equipped to handle it.

“I believe that it's time.” Lucretia’s spectral voice rang with conviction.

“The other Dark Clerics are going to hound you for avoiding the mountain of paperwork on your desk,” Cletus said, “but we are thrilled to witness your transformation.”

“And here I was starting to get attached to this form. What a pity.”

They smiled. Making jokes was exceptionally rare for her.

Everyone stepped back when she took flight, and her wings reached far and wide as Shadow coiled around them. Her frame was swallowed by darkness and exploded in growth. Its twisting was gloriously gruesome; feathers made way for ceremonial cloth, the beak split into a skeletal grin, and her eyes expanded like black holes from the Great Dark Beyond.

When the miter of a master Dark Cleric speared the air and they saw the deathly face of their teacher, the three acolytes basked in their accomplishment. The oldest stepped forward.

“Welcome back, Mother.”

#the adventures of grandma (bird edition)#to embrace the shadow #kott writes #character: lucretia #character: zala #character: lafayette #character: cletus

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