#au: durge remembers everything

[maegalkarven]

Empty prayers

Logical continuation of the AU where everything flies off the rails at the Moonrise Towers:

https://www.tumblr.com/maegalkarven/731364247822598144/au-where-dark-urge-didnt-loose-memories-and-the?source=share

Following the derail of all of his plans by his own hands, Lord Enver Gortash contemplates the future. Luckily, he doesn't have to do it alone.

m!Dark Urge x Enver Gortash, Karlach.

"I don't think he will answer."

Enver doesn't turn around to look at the bhaalspawn. He hears the crunching of dead leaves and sticks under the man's boots and feels a familiar presence close to his shoulder.

Regardless of that, he does not turn.

There's a small, carefully constructed altar in front of him. Perfect, it looks like, perfect with the offering and the incense burning.

Yet his god is silent.

"Enver, really, I don't think Bane will-"

"He has to," comes out a little bit harshly, a little bit forcefully. There's a bitter taste of desperation on his tongue. He pushes it back. "I am his Chosen-"

"I don't think you are anymore."

"I am," he insists as his voice rings louder, pitching to a high, urgent note. "I am the Chosen of Bane, I am his Hand, I am his Voice, I am his Will; and he will answer me."

He feels Nemo's piercing stare burn into the side of his face, but does not look up. Does not meet the familiar honey of the gaze he thought he has lost.

Does not think of all the implications this gaze brings.

Nemo is alive, here, next to him; so close Enver can touch him.

Yet somehow everything is ruined.

A pair of firm hands lay on his shoulders gently and he almost flinches at the touch.

But it's just Nemo.

"No," his bhaalspawn whispers softly. "No, he will not. You have failed him, my dear, just the way I've failed father. You chose wrong," Enver tries to move away from the touch, but the man's fingers only dig in deeper.

"You should have pushed me into the pool. You should have taken Orin's side in the conflict or did not intervene at all. But you," a deep, heavy sigh and a weight of Nemo's body pressing against Gortash's back.

"You chose me. Consciously or not, but you put my survival above everything else; above our plan, above your alliance, above your god. And gods like your and mine do not tolerate disobedience."

"You created this plan with me," Enver tries. "We were brilliant together. Orin has ruined everything; she could not control herself. She was a liability-"

"She was the Chosen of Bhaal," Nemo whispers right into his ear, the breath coming out hot. "It was not your place to decide if she was liability or not. And anyway, I don't think this is why you did what you did."

"It was her own fault," he tries again and feels like a child trying to avoid the punishment. He remembers, long time ago, in a house he prefers to not think about, in a cell what was his home, he used to plead the same way.

Raphael never listened.

"And Ketheric's; they compromised the plan, they put everything in danger, I was just trying to fix it, to put things right-"

Nemo hums.

"Have you tried telling Bane that?" As the matter of fact, he did. "I doubt he'd take this as an excuse." He didn't. "Bhaal beneath, Ketheric was right, wasn't he? Gods only answer when they have something to say. I guess Bane has nothing to say to you anymore."

"He will answer me," Enver insists with the persistence of the damned. "He needs me."

"He really, really doesn't," Nemo presses himself closer and Gortash allows himself a moment to lean back into the touch, to seep out any comfort it provides and feed to his weary soul.

Nemo. Nemo. Alive.

And it only took everything to go to the hells for that to happen.

"I know he hears me," Enver tries again.

"Oh, I have no doubt he does. But Enver, darling, don't you think this whole...fiasco would look bad for Bane? Don't you think the most sensible thing he could do would be to wash his hands clean of this?"

Enver hates to admit Nemo is right; it would be the sensible thing to do. It would be what Gortash himself would do in Bane's place: abandon the lost cause and move on. Find another, better Chosen.

Only there's no better Chosen than him.

"I am the only one who can realize all of his plans," he tries not to think about it. About his Steel Watch, unstable with one of the stones in control of the Brain. Of the cult of Murder under the foot of a thrall of the said thing, of the prodigal murderer as a meat puppet of the entity beyond their comprehension. Of Ravengard, untadpoled, no doubt giving a speech at the inn right now.

Everything went to complete and utter shit. But he can fix it; he can. Surely Bane knows that.

Surely Nemo does.

Nemo lets out a dark, unkind type of a laugh.

"You just destroyed all of his plans," he murmurs almost lovingly. "All and every single one of them. There's no recovering from that, only moving forward."

Enver hates what Nemo is right. And he hates what he knows what Nemo is right. And he hates Bane, and he hates Orin, and stupid Ketheric with his stupid sacrifice for a bitch of a daughter who did not deserve it, and he hates Raphael - honestly, fuck Raphael; and he hates his parents, he hopes they'll die, and he hates Karlach and her big open heart what was ripped out yet is still somehow inside her ribcage-

And he hates Nemo for how much he cares for Nemo, and really, all of this is actually his fault, if not for him, then-

"Are you done with your pity party?" And speak of the devil. Oh, well, a tiefling with infernal engine for a heart. "Duke Ravengard is holding a council," typical. "And your presence is required."

His old friend gives him a short, bitter look.

"This is not a pity party," Nemo argues and the woman snorts.

"Sure looks like one. Gods, it truly is a sign, isn't it?" She whistles. "I used to think I want to see you dead, but seeing you like this, fallen from grace, demoted to what you have always been - that feels even better."

A bubbling, bitter anger raises in him and Enver moves to stand-

"Oh, cut out with this," Nemo interrupts, his hands still firmly on Enver's shoulders. "He saved my life."

"And this is what I still don't understand," Karlach argues. "But it doesn't really matter; this is me actually playing nice. Trust me, if I've decided to give him back the treatment he gave me, he would not be standing right here. Or, well, sitting right here."

"We are all in the same boat now," Nemo tries placidly. "Dealing with the consequences of-"

"-Enver Gortash's actions."

"Our actions. I was involved, remember?"

"You didn't have a choice," she argues. "Bhaal made you; cut from his very own flesh. You have known no life but what your evil father showed you. You were not acting on your own accord. He," an angry gesture at Gortash. "Acted on his own accord. And sold me to Zariel. So she could rip off my heart and make me an unwilling soldier in her war."

"Oh, stop playing the victim," Enver snarls. "I gave you a chance to be something greater than you were. I gave you a chance to be stronger, better, invincible. With this engine no one could touch you, no one could hurt you. It was practically a dream come true and you threw it away, the ungrateful brat you have always been."

Fire erupts from her engine, wrapping itself against Karlach's entire body. Her eyes blaze as she steps forward, and for a moment Enver almost feels...That can't be it, he is still wearing his coat.

He scrambles to his feet, reaching for the crossbow. Bane is silent, he will always be silent from now on, but Gortash doesn't really need him, he doesn't need anyone-

"I'll make you choke on these words," Karlach threatens and damn it, why does it take so long to fix up his damn crossbow, is it broken-

Then a small, thin figure moves to stand between them.

Nemo looks...so insignificant compared to Karlach; he has no fire engine running in his chest, he has no muscles to rival hers, he has no claws and no horns.

Just plain looking half-elf with a crooked dagger in his hand.

"No," he says firmly. "You will not kill each other. Either you two calm the fuck down or you'll have to kill me first. And," a quick glance behind. "I really don't think this is what either of you wants."

"Nemo," Karlach frowns. "Step away. He had it coming-"

"No."

"Nemo-"

"No," the bhaalspawn snarls and something sparks in his eyes, deep, dark and deadly. Bhaal is here. Bhaal has gone nowhere.

Orin was wrong.

"You are not killing him, you're not as much as harming him, Enver Gortash is mine."

Karlach actually looks taken aback at that.

"Yours to do what?"

"Mine to keep, and mine to torture and, if it comes to it, mine to kill. But he is mine and he will stay that way. Bane is finally out of the way, so don't think I'll let you interfere."

"Nemo, this is- You're not exactly-"

"He is the only fucking person who has ever got it," there's a bleeding desperation oozing from the spawn's voice.

"The only man to be my equal. The only true partner I had ever had. I went to the Moonrise Towers with the dreadful knowledge I'd die here, with the belief this man would stick a dagger so deep into my back it'll protrude from my chest. And instead," he is breathing heavily, his broken, pathetic mess of the murderer. Perfect.

"He saved me. He took my side in a fight what had nothing to do with him. He chose me when it was an an obviously stupid thing to do, he has forsaken everything by letting me live. You cannot have him."

They stand like that for a while in a complete silence.

Karlach, double axe in her hands and shock mixed with pity in her gaze.

Nemo, breathing heavily, hands trembling, his own blade digging deep into the flesh of his palm, a thin red string of blood trailing down into the dirt.

Enver, mesmerized, taking in every breath, every shift of his unlucky, broken, forsaken mistake of a lover. Elevated by the sheer force of his devotion.

They need no gods but the ones they create. They need no gods but themselves.

Finally Karlach sighs and lowers the axe.

"For you," she drops down, turning away. "Only for you, for everything you've done for me and the friendship we have. But make no mistake, I am watching him," a rude gesture Enver reciprocates. "And if he does one wrong step, his messy fucking head will come flying off."

"I'd like to see you try," Enver starts and immediately gets kicked into the ribs with Nemo's elbow. Brat.

"Alright," the bhaalspawn smiles. "Thank you. You said something about the council?"

And somehow the end of the world gets delayed for just one more day.

[crossdressingdeath]

Thinking about an AU where Durge remembers more than they do in canon and they and Karlach end up getting into an argument about Gortash (either because Karlach got too aggressive about him or Durge got too defensive of him) and Karlach demands to know why Durge is so protective of the man after everything he did to the city and its people and her, and Durge just looks at her and says very gently "He's the only person who's ever wanted to know all of me."

[sun-flower-siren]

“I should know you, shouldn’t I?”

“You’ve been out here traveling for months? Gods, what happened to you?”

“I don’t remember… I think something hit my head. I woke up on a crashing ship, but all before is a blur.”

“And you remember nothing?”

“No, nothing besides a name. Does it matter?”

“No.”

I love to play with the idea of Gortash being the one to be loBhaaltomized and tadpoled, and how that dynamic shift would change everything… so here’s a snip from a little role reversal AU for him and my durge Damrys.

Sidenote it’s been forever since I’ve posted any of my art here, and I’m not really sure how often/how much I will in the future but I find tons of good BG3 stuff here so I thought I’d share!

[cake-apostate]

Hey so after thinking about the party as "people who come together to all get brain surgery," now I'm thinking of a modern AU where people from all walks of life all have the same deadly illness and they're all in the same surgery ward or whatever like The Fault in Our Stars.* Or maybe not the same illness, but it's all deadly.

*[Disclaimer: I have not read The Fault in Our Stars]

Karlach and Gale have the most immediately applicable situations; Karlach is dying and Gale's pain medication is becoming less effective with every dose.

Maybe Karlach was drafted, sent to war, and was theoretically honorably discharged when her disease came to light. But she can't get veteran's benefits for whatever reason (or if she can, it barely helps), and she's furious that the past ten years were wasted.

Gale used to be wealthy, but his incredibly expensive medication forced him to pawn almost all of his worldly possessions, and now he's reduced to begging his friends for money. He's also determined not to die because he's the head researcher for some really important project that would solve world hunger or something, and his death would set them back decades.

Lae'zel starts out rather blase about everything because she knows that her people have the real cure. When it turns out to be euthanasia, she's devastated, and vows to bring modern medicine back to her homeland if she survives.

Shadowheart is super determined to make the most of her remaining life by accomplishing this great thing for her church, and is distraught when she realizes that they aren't worth it.

Astarion was in some kind of situation where he was chained to his soul-sucking job, and his imminent death makes him realize that he can quit his job and do whatever he wants with his life. Might go the Breaking Bad route.

Wyll wants to reconcile with his father in his final days. But he's afraid to, maybe because it might seem like he's trying to take advantage of his fortune, or he doesn't want his father to worry about his dying son.

Durge is trying to be a good person, but whatever they have is causing aggression and memory loss, much to their dismay. They can't remember their ex, Gortash, and their sister Orin is trying to screw them out of treatment so she can get their inheritance.

The game doesn't really touch upon Minsc's tadpole, but I can see that he doesn't qualify for treatment until Jaheira threatens the doctor. Jaheira also was in a situation where she could have nipped Minsc's illness in the bud, but she chose to do something to save more lives instead.

[Sorry, Minthara; I haven't gotten you yet.]

[emilykaldwen]

gotta say, i do wanna hear about your cult leader bard xD

So Kali was originally my Durge Bard Teethling from our Shattered Star Campaign (with @merbleberp!! and @rigbeesknees!!! and I cannot remember Anna's blogname oops) and I missed her so much I had to make her in BG3.

So Kali... boy, how do I start with Kali. So Kali was found by her archeologist parents - her mother was from a very heavy Cleric/Paladins of Sarenrae family and then her mom got caught up in some heavy demon shit, had a Div-Spawn baby, and Kali was abandoned at a temple where her archeologist Pathfinder Society parents found her.

Growing up was complicated. There were a lot of nasty things said about her parents, and while they really meant well, they didn't really understand Kali's brand of... messy headspace.

So Kali went off to school where her mom was teaching, met Meredith's half-orc Wizard, Roz, and went 'This is my new best friend/sister/life partner and she is everything to me'. And Roz was able to teach Kali how to friend properly and not use people.

But you see, Kali is still 'I need to make people want to be around me/love me'. Like she was into this guy, they went on one date that he noped out of, she convinced herself that they were dating, saw him with someone else, and then proceeded to burn his apartment down. She got kicked out of school for that.

So while in our sunday night game, Kali came to discover healing, Sheyln, and the power of friendship and how she doesn't really need to start her own cult/become some BBEG for friendship, it still lingers. (@merbleberp AU where Roz needs to be 100% enabled)

SO IN BG3, this is the world where Kali doesn't remember Roz, she never found the new friends in Fortune's Folly, and her guardian is in the guise of a familiar half-orc that she knows means a lot to her but can't quite place. And she is into her worst impulses but she's not full on bad guy either. She encourages Shadowheart to turn her back on Shar and she supports Astarion's bodily autonomy - she is NOT about being controlled.

And I absolutely thought she was gonna go for Astarion but Gale's Wizard Hubris spoke to the comforting familiarity inside of her and they enable each other.

So now she's off to destroy everyone in the Absolute's Cult because they dared fuck with her, and she will rebuild from the ashes

(no spoilers, pls! I JUST started Act III!)

[shera-dnd]

Late to day 2, but I still delivered.

Ochako and her party venture beneath the city of Baldur's Gate in search of Toga's former master

Yes. This means exactly what you think it means. BALDUR'S GATE 3 AU!!!

Originally this was gonna be Durge!Toga, but that would take way too many words to do it justice. Instead she's taking Astarion's place and Ochako is vaguely taking Shadowheart's, but I don't go too deep into that

anyways enjoy the read!

@togachakoweekoffical

The underground chamber before them stretched beyond what Ochako ever deemed possible.

Seven thousand and six souls, all trapped together in one colossal structure, hidden just beneath the streets of Baldur’s Gate.

And now the seven thousandth and seventh soul approached it.

Every step they took through Cazador’s manor only seemed to dredge up more and more unpleasant memories for Toga. But she couldn’t turn back, she would be free, no matter what it might cost her. And Ochako would be with her to the very end.

Their steps echoed as the party descended into the ritual chamber. Ochako and Bakugo took the lead as they advanced into the ritual chamber, their respective paramours trailing behind.

“It’s gonna be fine,” Midoriya reassured her in a whisper, “just remember the plan.”

Reflexively she adjusted her pack, causing their spare weapons to rattle and clang.

“Right,” Ochako nodded, then repeated to herself, “stick to the plan…”

Next to her Bakugo let out one of his annoyed ‘chk’ s, obviously not happy to have to rely so much on an ‘istik’ .

Behind them Toga was eerily quiet. For once she had no jokes, no quippy lines, not even a little casual flirt to throw Ochako’s way. All she had now was silence .

She was afraid.

Ochako’s hand itched to latch onto Toga’s own, to pull her close, and whisper to her that everything would be okay.

But she was never given the chance as Cazador spoke, “could it be? Has our prodigal daughter returned?”

His voice alone was enough for Ochako to want to put her mace through his face.

“Say girl , has the real world proven too much for you yet again? Have you come here to beg to join our family once again?”

“Family? You call this a family? You abused us! Controlled us!” Toga hissed and stepped forward, breaking formation, “How dare you call any of that a family!?”

“Oh come now, girl,” Cazador dismissed with a wave of his hand, “you of all people should know that that’s what families do. Did I not rescue you from a far more pathetic fate at the hands of your parents? At least this way your life will serve some higher purpose.”

“Shut up!” Ochako shouted without even thinking, “Himiko’s life is worth more than your stupid ritual! She’s our friend, our family, and we won’t just stand here and let you throw her life away like it’s your property!”

Cazador looked at her with a mixture of surprise and disgust, like he was looking down at the mud that got stuck to the sole of his shoot.

“I don’t remember asking for the opinion of cattle ,” he spat.

She heard Toga shout, “don’t you dare talk to her like that!” as she lunged forward to drive her knife through his eye.

A single tap of his staff was all it took to stop her, suspended in mid air before being thrown flying through the chamber.

One moment Toga was next to them, and the next she was trapped by the ritual circle. The final soul needed for Cazador’s ascension.

Cazador cackled as his servants began to gather around the group of adventurers.

“Okay! New plan,” Deku announced, raising his hand and readying a triple shot of Eldritch Blasts, “Uraraka, you need to free Toga before the ritual is finished. Kacchan and I will keep them off you as best as we can.”

“Tsk’va!” Bakugo cursed, though he still drew his battleaxe, “don’t you dare call me that in public!”

Were this any less urgent of a situation, Ochako would have pointed out that everyone at camp had heard him call Izuku ‘ source of my bruises ’ as if that was the sappiest nickname githyanki culture could conjure.

As it stood, mocking the emotionally constipated gith could wait, right now she had a girl to save.

In a single Misty Step Ochako crossed the entirety of the ritual circle, stopping right at the step of the platform that held Toga.

The woman squirmed as the magical force held her suspended in mid air, her very soul being drained into the red beam of light. 

Ochako’s heart tightened at the pain she saw in Himiko’s face, and she didn’t need the parasite to tell just how terrified the girl was.

Before she could take another step a werewolf slumped dead in front of her, a javelin firmly impaled through its throat.

“Pay attention, istik!” Bakugo barked, bringing her back to reality.

Right. 

Can’t get distracted at a time like this.

Ochako shoved the werewolf’s corpse aside, and stepped up next to Toga. 

Underneath an intricate array of magical runes held her in place. If Momo was here, she would have cleverly unraveled the spell at the seams before giving a detailed explanation of its function.

Ochako’s solution was nowhere near as elegant, but it got the job done.

She slammed her mace down, cracking the stone under it and splitting the rune in half. This seemed enough to break whatever spell was keeping Toga in place, gently dropping the woman into Ochako’s arms.

“I got you,” Ochako assured her, “I got you, Himiko.”

The only response she got was a loud hiccuping sob as Himiko clung to Ochako as tightly as she could.

“I will never let anyone hurt you, not anymore,” Ochako soothed, before reaching for her backpack and shouting, “Midoriya, now!”

Without a second of hesitation the warlock turned his entire focus on Cazador, trapping him inside a spell of Hold Person. 

Bakugo, for his part, needed no order to jump to Izuku’s defense, making sure his companion would be able to keep focus on the spell.

Ochako pulled a different mace from her bag, with a bright golden head that shined like the sun.

“Remember what you said when we first got this?” Ochako spoke softly to Himiko. Their entire time at the Temple of Lathander had been a massive fiasco, but Toga’s words after they had all been revived had stuck with her somehow. “Something between a nice summer’s day -”

Himiko’s hand rose to meet Ochako’s, their fingers wrapping together over the handle of the Blood of Lathander, as she spoke.

“- and the full concentrated power of the sun.”

The mace ignited, a bright beam of sunlight burning through the darkness of the cavern. It was nothing compared to the lance that destroyed the temple, but it was more than enough to reduce a vampire to dust.

Himiko’s hand dropped, the legendary mace falling down to the ground and rolling off harmlessly.

She stumbled towards the ashes of her former master and looked down, almost in a trance.

“He’s dead,” she spoke, and whatever spell had dulled her emotions finally shattered .

With a shivering gasp, Toga kicked away his ashes with all her might.

“You’re dead!” she cried, stomping the ground where the bastard once stood again and again, “Dead! Dead! Dead!”

Her cries broke down into sobs as she fell to her knees, tears falling over what was left of the scattered ashes.

Toga hadn’t even noticed Ochako approaching her until she was pulled into her gentle arms.

“You’re safe now,” she soothed. “ I promise. ”

[ryttu3k]

Has Tavias ever had access to the Slayer form in your backstory for him? If so, were there any times it came close to coming out on his journey in say… an au?

He did have it in his backstory, yeah! I don't incorporate all of Blood in Baldur's Gate, but do keep the basics - in 1477, the Dark Urge (aided by Sceleritas) goes on a murder spree throughout the city. Tavias was 16 at the time, what a precocious youngster :') Bhaal returns five years later in 1482, and (largely in recognition of the 1477 spree but also everything he's done as the Cult of Bhaal leader since) makes Tavias his Chosen and gives him the Slayer form. He has use of that until 1492, losing it along with most everything else.

Not gonna lie, he used it a lot solely to antagonise Orin XD;; Being petty af with your murdergod-dad-given gifts towards your little sister is peak sibling dynamic.

As for coming out on the journey, not really, honestly. He actually doesn't remember it at all, doesn't even remember it's a possibility until he sees Orin forcefully turned into it. Once everything is over and he can just... process everything that happened, he realises this must have been the reward Sceleritas promised for killing Isobel and then Astarion. With that, he remembers vaguely both how it felt to transform and also how completely uncontrollable the Urge was in that form (I hc that while a regular Durge would have, say, a DC 15 roll to fight the Urge normally, it'd be something ridiculous like DC 30 in Slayer form), and just... feels very very bad for Orin, knowing his little sister's last moments would have been awful and also completely out of control. (He does feel a lot of guilt for not being able to save her. They constantly tried to kill each other but she was his little sister.)

[forgottenwyrm]

[ FORGOTTENWYRM ] ⸻ an independent role play blog for an original character set in the Dungeons and Dragons 5th edition setting of Forgotten Realms, featuring a companion au for Baldur's Gate 3. Includes homebrewed ideas about dragons, faerun, and more. (not dm approved).

[ ABOUT POST ] ⸻ Caledonia, an amnesiac white dragon appearing as a friendly tiefling draconic sorcerer trying to make sense of the world. [ABOUT THE TIEFLING ] ⸻ about the tiefling from Caledonia's backstory [ LORE / HC TAG ] ⸻ all headcanons to date [ BG3 VERSE ] ⸻ all posts detailing cal's bg3 verse [ BG3 RECRUITMENT ] ⸻ Caledonia's bg3 companion verse, not a tav nor durge nor party leader

A STUDY IN ⸻ memories lost from trauma, imposter syndrome, potent magic, unadulterated joy, escape from cults, freedom in flying, an icy tempest, feeding anger, learning to cope with emotions, forgotten shapes, art of volatility

Wyrm hatched & blog dm'ed by Izzy. they/them. 25. established 3/3/24. SIDEBLOGS ⸻ @dragonsfell (dnd & bg3 multimuse) & @ofmythandmagic (fantasy & myth multimuse) [ MEMES & PROMPTS ] ⸻ ask box is open and empty

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⸻ Every ship and thread (unless we have multi threads together) is always of its own universe, unless otherwise established differently

⸻ I am open to having mains, affiliates, and exclusives; but only after we've been writing or chatting. Established mun chemistry.

⸻ You may ask for my discord. With adhd, i can tend to be a little sporiac on messages, but am usually down to chat ooc plenty.

⸻ Fun stuff to expect from me ⸻ fluff, angst, slice of life, content heavy, dialogue heavy, paragraphs, crossovers, alternate universes, multi-verse, multi-ship, anon asks on, ask box starters, mutuals getting tagged in fun things

[aladaylessecondblog]

It Rhymes With House (Six Hours AU one-shot)

Author's Note: I haven't played Durge yet, but I intend to do a run next playthrough. This chapter's Durge is your bog standard one--white dragonborn. Dunno why he's here, he's just kinda chilling, because I've noticed the chillest people usually have the most shit going on.

I can't not torture Tav. Had an idea. In this I guess Raphael's 'Six Hours' offer was quite worse and Cald ended up at the Emerald Grove with Halsin. This is something I'd like to do but the buildup would be too similar to other fics. This one's a bit of a mess.

Yes I'm outright ripping Theon's shtick.

--------------

"Who in the hells is that?"

When the party turned back up in camp with an additional follower, nearly everyone was wary.

"One of Raphael's pets, I think," Karlach said, gesturing vaguely at the shaking figure nearby, "Poor sod begged to come with us. Said without Raphael there she was a sitting duck."

"We knows she's not a devil," Wyll started, "Doesn't look like a tiefling, she looks...a bit like me, actually. Given the horns, I mean--you know, they're just like his."

Durge crossed his arms. There was a pause, and a thousand-yard stare. He took in a sharp breath. "Where's Shadowheart? She could use some healing."

The woman backed away when Shadowheart approached.

"What is your name?" Shadowheart asked gently, noting the fear written all over the woman's face. There were scars here and there, but none on her face or hands.

"Mouse," the woman said shakily, as she looked up and around the campsite. "I...I don't remember much else. Something terrible happened to me, so the master took--took most of my memory. So I would not...be burdened by the past."

Durge stood close by, trying to ignore the scent of blood.

As Shadowheart healed her wounds Mouse muttered.

"Mouse, Mouse, it rhymes with house, the house of hope, and death of the same."

She looked to be a drow, but vitiligo had stolen the color of large chunks of her face and hands, and when the healing was done Mouse looked up anxiously.

"What do you want in return? Which of you do I serve now?"

"Nothing, and none of us. I'm sure you'll feel better after you've eaten," Shadowheart said, "You say you remember very little...where's Halsin? I know he's still got some noblestalk."

"Please, I've got nothing to give you in return," Mouse said anxiously. "I already owe you for the healing, and noblestalk is expensive. The master--"

"Your master is dead," Karlach finally spoke up, "Dead, do you hear me? He's not coming back, I beat the shit out of him with the hammer he didn't want us to steal."

Mouse lowered her head. "I know, but...I've nothing to offer you for all this, I already owe you an enormous debt for letting me go back with you, and..."

She trailed off at that.

Remember, Mouse. You are only worth what someone is willing to pay for you.

"Halsin should be back soon," Durge finally called out. "He went on a supply run with the boy."

-------------------------------------------------

My name is Mouse.

It was the first thing the master had taught her, and she remembered it when she'd forgotten everything else. Too painful, he'd said, really, he was doing her a FAVOR, cleaning it all out of her mind. Family, friends, all of them gone because of the mindflayers, and yet she was lucky--for there he was to save her!

There to keep the tadpole from turning her into an illithid.

Yes, yes, very lucky she was. Even if sometimes--sometimes, it would act up. The tadpole would make her remember things, and she would be disobedient...she would remember disobeying, but not what she'd remembered to cause it.

She only got pain she deserved, but the master preferred it to be non-physical. Locking her up alone, or having everyone in the House simply ignore her. Making her earn the right to be noticed again.

Mouse, Mouse, Mouse

He was always there to make things better, too, and to remind her of those that lurked outside the House of Hope. Those other devils, who would be far less kind masters than he was. That without him there to protect her, she would be ripped to shreds.

Then these strangers had come...killed Haarlep, stolen the hammer. She'd begged them to take her along, and for some reason they'd done it, with no guarantee of payment or return.

Then they'd brought her here, kept her warm by the fire, given her food even.

It was...they were...nice. Moonlight above, grass below. She'd forgotten the green of it, the soft light of the moon, everything she was feeling and seeing right now.

The tadpole squirmed in her head.

No, please, don't make me remember--

The master was dead. He was DEAD. She kept telling herself that but still the fear rose. A fire, like this one, four bedrolls, and three of the others she was seeing around camp.

Every time the tadpole stirs, it causes trouble. It makes you remember things, and those things make you forget who you are. And who are you? Tell me.

M-Mouse. My name is Mouse. It rhymes with house, the house of hope, and death of the same

The master was the only truly clear thing in her mind. Lurking behind every stray thought. Waiting to punish bad behavior, or praise the good.

The memories were shady, though, only half-real. Half-remembered, on the very edge of sight she had to squint to see at all. But the tadpole stirred again...

"MAMA!"

A jolt.

Has anyone told my husband?

Nothing is more precious to me.

Mouse flinched when a body suddenly collided with her own, wrapped her neck in a tight hug.

"Mama, you're--you're back! Mister Durge said they killed the devil that took you!"

She looked up shakily when the boy drew back. Dark eyes--

His eyes.

--fluffy white hair.

"She says she doesn't remember anything," the white dragonborn said, "So go easy on her."

The boy's expression dropped, and his eyes misted instantly. "He made you forget me?"

"He-he made me forget everything that wasn't him," Mouse said. "I'm sorry, I..."

"Here," said a stronger voice behind the boy. "Give her this, it might help."

Mouse looked up, then back down immediately. The elf before her looked even more concerned than the others, and sat down beside her once he'd handed off something to the boy.

"You truly don't remember, do you? To live so long with the memories you carried, and then to forget them...before you could even know that someone else shared them, too. Such pain I would never wish on another, no matter how foul."

The boy sat down in front of her, and held out--a mushroom. "It helped Shadowheart and Mister Durge remember things, so maybe it'll help you too."

"Noblestalk," she said, taking it, "That's expensive, I don't have--"

"We can spare it," Durge called from somewhere, "We just robbed a devil, we've got PLENTY."

"Eat it, mama, please."

The boy begged her so earnestly, she could do nothing but listen. She ate, and after a pause the illithid began to twitch in her mind again. A flash of memory of the boy before her, showing him the contents of a box she'd kept hidden. Rings and whiskey and...boots? Then it shifted, and--the master--appeared. Words from her own lips, she heard in her own voice in her mind--

I will do anything if it means protecting my son.

The boy before her...the same as had been beside her in that memory.

"You...you are my son," Mouse said, "Cald...is that right?"

The boy smiled and nodded eagerly.

The large elf spoke again. "You sold yourself to that devil to protect him from the same foul vampire to torment our star."

"How did--where have you been all this time, then?" Mouse asked. "Please tell me you've been alright."

"You sent me to mister Halsin here when...when the devil visited. He's nice...some of the other druids weren't, but he was."

"And we were lucky," Halsin said, "That I recalled the time before, else...else things may have gone ill, considering the views of the druids of my grove. I was not aware before. But I was this time."

There was a pause.

"My heart, I am...so sorry that you have had to go through all of this. When they freed me from the goblin camp, I feared the worst..."

"I told mister Halsin who that devil was and he was pretty sure we were going to meet him later. I already knew we would...I wanted to come when they went to go kill him but they wouldn't let me."

"He's as dead as a devil can get," Durge called from his tent.

"It would not do to lose you when we had only just found your mother," Halsin said, "I imagine you must have many questions you want to ask of him, Tav, so I will leave you to--"

"No, no, my name is Mouse." It was hard not to include the rest of it, she almost felt she'd break her jaw trying.

"No, mama, it's Tav," the boy said, "My name is Cald, this is Halsin, and you're Tav."

Please, someone, anyone, talk to me.

The large elf--Halsin--seemed to decide on a look from Cald to stay exactly where he was.

"Perhaps time in nature will help. As a druid, you must be relieved to see the greenery again."

"I don't...I don't remember...being a druid. I don't remember any of this. We didn't have many plants in the House of Hope, and...I was told not to pray to any gods there, so even if Silvanus COULD hear me..."

A pause.

"My contract," she said, "Did you see my contract while you were there?"

"They brought back some I helped them burn," Cald said, "We're still looking through a big stack."

"Perhaps we can burn mine together."

Raphael was not dead, not truly, but if she could get the contract burned at least she would not be compelled to obey afterwards.

At least, not by the contract.

[sybaritick]

thinking again about my resplendently bad resist!Durge/Gortash modern AU concept i thought up a month back

resist!durge is still an amnesiac without memories of his past life and gets a shit job at an amazon warehouse or smth (meeting the others in the gang especially astarion and wyll who would absolutely be a side couple in this). wyll is a leftist organizer leading a unionization effort there but they have to keep it on the dl to avoid retaliation and durge starts helping out with it more and more, volunteering his time, helping organize, becoming friends with wyll (and astarion, who has reluctantly been dragged into this too at the promise of better pay and better hours but also because he's a little into wyll.)

gortash is, obviously, the big boss (tm) who they all absolutely hate and i'm sure manages multiple locations and therefore barely even shows up to this one. but then at some point, months into this, he sees durge. and he's like. oh my god. it's you. we thought you were dead!!... you dont remember everything? down to when we were roommates back in business school a decade ago... how we had the same management consulting internship back then too! anyway youve dropped off the face of the earth for 6 months but if you come back to mckinsey there will be a job for you i swear it.

durge, as well as wyll and astarion, who are all finding this out about his past for the first time: 👁️ 👁️

gortash invites durge on a date, of course, all "remember we dated before 🥺 anyway i will help you remember everything."

and durge decides... fuck this guy, but i think i can this can be a way to get some Information that would help wyll and astarion. perhaps even gain leverage over him in some way.

so of course durge pretends to be glad to be back and gortash is so obviously trying to win him over w money and power. take him out on a very nice dinner date to Help Him Remember and confirms yes. they dated before. they were *together* before durge's tragic disappearance. this makes durge So Uncomfortable. THIS guy? and his job was like THAT?

but then like, on the date, as gortash explains what they were... he totally starts to realize why. he was *good* at this! perhaps, as said in that meme, he worked on the AI for the robots that beat the workers when they faint or what have you. but like. he realized he loved it. he loved understanding how neural networks function... he loved training the models and coming back in the morning to see the improvements... loved the underlying math, more than anything. he was a statistical analysis geek. dude was a *savant*!!! and he used those powers for *tremendous evil!* AI to learn the optimal schedule of wins and losses for each individual to keep them spending money they don't have at casinos! helping security cams automatically identify people the police wanted to arrest! and, of course, whatever he did at this evil corporation to preempt and prevent unionization. the exact plan that he is now trying to foil. his doing all along. :)

gortash shows him some very basics of the things he did like [shows gradient descent formulas] is this your card? and durge is like. eyes tracing the bullshit little greek letters for partial derivatives from the multivar class he took at age 17 and hes like. oh. i might not remember what i did with it. but god i remember this like i remember how to speak.

[boghermit]

Astarion for the character meme?

LET'S GOOOO GAMERS

Astarion spoilers under the cut

First impression: I actually don't remember what my REAL first impression of him was, because I just saw a mysterious game called "Baldur's Gate 3" in early access in 2020 with demanding graphics requirements and said "oh okay." This was the first pic I ever saw of him though.

But my RECENT first impression of him was "Oh he's cute. And he's a vampire. I like vampires. Maybe I should play this game." Then I saw the voice acting and animations and that sealed it. I almost never pay full price for any game ever, but I did for this one, and the studio has Neil Newbon to thank for that.

Impression now: Would take a bullet for him. One of the best, most consistently well-acted and well-written characters in gaming. Bastard (affectionate).

Favorite moment: Spawn Astarion being coaxed out of completing the ritual and then killing Cazador. Everything about that scene is perfect. Probably the best scene in the game.

Idea for a story: I'm currently brainstorming this AU where he lures Salem / my Dark Urge back to Cazador's castle, then Salem gets turned into the seventh spawn. (Sorry Leon.) But maybe Salem's Bhaalspawn power and cult leader status creates problems for Cazador. Problems of the unlife-threatening sort.🤔I'm not sure where to go with it as far as endings go, because it seems like a set up that would ultimately lead to tragedy, but I don't necessarily WANT it to end in tragedy.

Unpopular opinion: Some of the art I see with Cazador and him makes me uncomfortable. And the way some of the fandom treats him makes me uncomfortable. But that is probably just an unpopular opinion, idk. I don't engage with the fandom enough outside of the people I follow to really know what the unpopular opinions are.

Favorite relationship: Durge, platonic or romantic. Mostly good Durge / unascended Astarion.

Favorite headcanon: The grease in his bag isn't for fighting - it's for his hair.

[maegalkarven]

Homecoming

The third part of the Empty Prayers AU.

They are home, but Baldur's Gate is nothing Wyll remembers it to be.

Characters: Wyll Ravengard, Shadowheart, Enver Gortash, Nemo (Durge), Jaheira, Karlach, Astarion.

Dark Urge x Gortash.

Wyll's POV.

The city is quiet.

It’s the first thing Wyll notices, how quiet Baldur’s Gate is, almost unnaturally so.

This is not how it should be, not how Wyll remembers his city.

The streets should buzz with the sound; even at night there should be the echo of steps, someone having a brawl in the nearest inn, some criminal individual skidding about, some poor soul retching in the ditch. There should be a low, unmistakable hum of the city being alive. Baldur’s Gate, city of many, city of all. Criminals and respectful citizens side by side, the most beautiful gardens of the Upper City and the foulest smell of the sewers.

The Gate.

This not how Wyll imagined his return.

In his dreams, the deepest, most sacred of them, so secured even Mizora couldn’t get a grip on, he saw himself a hero returning home; with victory, with salvation.

Wyll saw his father pardoning him, embracing, hailing a true hero of Baldur’s Gate. He saw himself standing tall and proud in front of the patriarchs of the city and not being ashamed of who he was.

Sneaking into the city like thieves in the night was not in his dreams.

His father, exhausted, strained by the knowledge of things passed and things yet to come, was not in his dreams.

Fighting the losing battle against the Elder Brain crowned with Karsus’ infamous creation was not in them.

Allying himself with the men personally crowning said brain was...was unimaginable, really.

And yet working alongside the two former cult leaders is the best chance they have. Wyll has spend endless hours in conversations with his father about this; appealing to his sense of duty, his responsibilities to the city, his honor.

Wyll knows both Gortash and Nemo are awful people. He has met his fair share of the scum and recognizes it when he sees it. If things were different, if both of the men have not fallen from grace, then... Then they would be the enemy, and of the worst, foul kind. The clever, sophisticated kind of the enemy who knows they do wrong, but can’t seem to particularly care.

Wyll still isn’t sure how much they can actually rely on Enver Gortash, not to mention trust him. He rather agrees with Karlach’s assessment what trusting the man would be a fool’s play. But urgent need for survival pulls together and turns into allies even the strangest types of men.

And not all villains had the choice to begin with.

Wyll knows Nemo is convinced he is a being of pure evil, the Murder Incarnate, the Worst of them all. He also knows Nemo doesn’t feel slighted by that, it is his destiny, after all. It is what he was made for.

Made.

Not even born, Bhaal could not allow him even that small slither of grace. No, his friend was literally sculpted from the dead flesh of the dead god. Then, if Nemo’s recollecting is to be trusted, he was entrusted into the care of no one but Sarevok Anchev, who then proceeded to raise a boy as the true heir to their Father’s bloody legacy.

Wyll shudders at the way Nemo casually recounts his past, how he brushes over the awful details with practiced ease of someone who doesn’t see anything wrong in that.

And how could he? Who was there to explain to him that what his Father and then his brother did to him was awful? Who was there to tell the child, beaten bloody, what this ‘training’ Sarevok put him through was not humane? It was ruthless, it was unkind, and it was brought on a but a babe.

"The pureblood child of the Bhaal should be perfect," he remembers Nemo commenting, not understanding the level of horror Wyll felt, not seeing why would he even be horrified by that. "It should be stripped of any weakness, any chains society would gladly press on it. All Bhaal’s child is – His vessel, His hand, the blade striking in His name. It doesn’t have the personality, better yet no will of its own. It is Father born anew. It is His second coming. It is the maw what will devour the world."

How Nemo turned up being as sane as he is now is a mystery, all things considered. He was destined to be nothing.

Wyll will gladly help his friend to break out of this bloody destiny.

Which leads his thought to the unkind revelation to why the said child of Bhaal even started to break out of his fate. Or because of whom.

Nemo is almost sewn to the failed tyrant’s side these days; the dark shadow behind Gortash’s frame, hushed whisper into his ear, steady hand on the man’s forearm.

Wyll would think it to be suffocating if not for the way Gortash stands straighter at the touch, looks surer of himself, smugger, more unbearable.

They bring the worst into each other. They keep each other afloat.

Wyll remembers the first several days after the Moonrise Towers. He remembers Nemo disappearing into Gortash’s tent every night, emerging in the morning with the image of tiredness stitched up his face. Gortash didn’t look any better, the signs of exhaustion lying low in the dark shadows under his eyes, in the crease of his mouth, in the wrinkles on his forehead. Somehow everyone knew nothing lewd was taking place, what the two failed chosen simply guarded each other against the world.

As if the world was the enemy.

As if traveling with them has not shown Nemo what the world is a much kinder place than what he was taught to believe. As if they were not allies, were not friends.

Wyll knows the revelation of Nemo’s true identity, of his past had to cost him greatly. He remembers this confession as if it was yesterday.

***

He remembers Nemo’s fists opening and closing, helpless in the painful need to strike at someone. He remembers the half-elf taking his shirt off – for the first time showing them his naked chest – and he remembers the awful, stark revelation it brought.

The scars like those do not appear out of nowhere. The scars like those are left on the bodies forgone autopsy. Dead bodies.

And yet these scars bite into Nemo’s skin even now.

“I...I don’t remember who she was,” the bhaalspawn murmured then, voice low and dark. “But I remember her face and I’m sure I’d recognize her if we were to meet again. I am convinced she is a myrkulite and what she is somewhere in these Towers.”

“That’s not all,” he interrupted then Wyll opened his mouth to say something, maybe offer comfort, as futile as that attempt would be. “She was not the one to put tadpole into my brain. That was my sister.”

“Your sister?” Gale’s voice raised the octave. “Why would she do that?”

A smirk, a dark shadow of a smile, lips baring white teeth in a grimace what looks strained, forced upon.

“Because our father told her to,” a pause. “Our Father, Lord Bhaal.”

It quickly fell into dreadful silence then, no one knowing what to say, no one knowing what to believe in.

Wyll personally hadn't felt betrayed, shocked, yes, but not wronged.

He understood the heavy weight of a dark secret; he had one. Wyll has lived for seven long years with his lips sealed.

But Wyll would understand if the others would have different reaction. If anything, Nemo seemed to expect it.

Nemo tried to continue with the confession.

Yes, he was a bhaalspawn, but the kind of which no one saw before. He was a pure Bhaalspawn. There’s not a drop of mortal blood in him, not a drop of essence what is not of his father’s. He wasn’t born. He was made. And for the last thirty years he was the leader of the Church of Bhaal.

Thirty years. That gave Wyll a pause, and it seemed he wasn’t the only one.

“How old are you exactly?” Astarion, the resident old-timer of their ragtag bunch of misfits, inquired.

“Fifty,” came out an easy response. “I became the leader my Father wanted me to be at the ripe age of nineteen. It’s been an endless road of improvement since then, until...” A wild gesture around.

“I...I did not fail, you have to understand. I do not fail. It’s just...Father does not tolerate a straying thought. For the last thirty years I was careful with what I do and how I do it, careful to not bring his wrath on me. I was...probably the unconventional leader, I admit, but everything I did made the Church grow bigger, stronger, better. Everything but-“ he looked down. “I am not supposed to care, you see? About anything or anyone. I should only think of murder, of blood, of my Father’s goal.”

“But you care,” Karlach looked pained as she stepped forward. Carefully, as if approaching a wild beast, but surely still. “You care about us. I know, even if you try to downplay it. You care about things.”

Nemo took a shaky step back.

“I know,” came sounding worse the admittance than of his bloody legacy. How admitting you care could be worse than that? “But do you know when I started to care? Or when I realized I do, in fact, care?”

“When?”

“You will hate the next part.”

“I already hate every part of what you’ve said,” she let out a pained laugh. “How worse can it be?”

The bhaalspawn smiled the kind of smile what promised more disaster to come.

“Nine years ago,” he let out. “I was approached by the man named Enver Gortash. He had,” a movement to intercept whatever Karlach was about to say. “He had information about the Hall of Wonders,” a glance to Wyll. “You probably know of that, the disgraceful display of my brothers and sisters, put upon view like trophies. Well, I didn’t like that. And Gortash, he...offered the way in. A help, in kind.”

“Trust me when I say he would never offer any help just for the sake of it,” Karlach seethed. “He wanted something-“

“And he got it. That and more,” Nemo looked as if he was forcing himself to stay still, burning under the piercing stare of the Fury of Avernus. “We became allies. Did all sort of thing, the two of us. Planned, schemed. Broke into Methistar,” a proud little grin. “Stole the crown of Karsus.”

“You stole what?!” Gale, clearly familiar with the thing.

“-And put it on the Elder Brain,” oh fuck, Wyll didn’t like there it was leading. “Used the netherstones from the crown to control it. Started our own world domination plan.”

“And then your sister stabbed you.”

“And then my sister stabbed me. Because my father told her to. Because I started to care.”

“For what?” Karlach was hardly seen through the flames wrapping around her in waves. “For who?”

“We were perfect together,” Nemo stared straight ahead. “We were indestructible. We were meant to rule the world as the gods of new age. We were-“

“The name,” Karlach seethed. “I don’t want bloody details; just prove my worst fucking fears. Tell me the name.”

Nemo looked away. It was, perhaps, the first time he was admitting it aloud, or even at all.

The Pure Bhaalspawn was not supposed to care for the others.

“I didn’t want to kill Enver Gortash,” he let out, small and pained and weak. “I do not want to kill Enver Gortash. He is the only one...” he trailed off.

“Anyway, this is my crime, the one my Father punished me for. I care for the banite. I care. I fucking care, and I’m not supposed to. And he,” a quick glance at the Moonrise Towers on the horizon. “Is somewhere in these fucking towers.”

***

He did not have to kill the man, and Karlach didn’t get to kill him, because in the feat of reckless abandonment Lord Enver Gortash did something no one expected him to be capable of.

He saved Nemo’s life.

He ruined his own plans.

And everything changed.

Everything changed, and now they sneak across the streets, the wraiths in the night, criminals in their own city.

There’s a curfew, Wyll finds out. There was never a curfew.

Also there’s a siege on the city, brought by the forces of the army Ketheric Thorm has build and Absolute now uses.

There are posters on the streets claiming they’re enemies of the state. Wyll, his father, Nemo and Gortash. Four of their faces, painted in the likeness, printed out and put around the city Wyll calls his own.

And Florrick did it.

No, he shakes his head, Not Florrick, the Elder Brain what controls her, the tadpole what’s buried deep into her brain. Florrick would never do that, but she is locked somewhere deep in her own mind, behind the intricate web of psionic power Absolute possesses.

The Steel Watch is at her heed, used against their own creator, used by the Brain the same way it uses Florrick, the same way it uses Orin, the same way it uses anyone who doesn’t have the luxury of the astral prism and an unlikely illithid ally protecting them from within.

A mindflayer named Emperor, the one who seems to have some kind of a bad history with Gortash. If this is not the cherry on top of the overall disaster of their lives.

The world Wyll has known is burning around him as he watches, and the only hope of even getting out of this mess is the help of the criminal underworld of the Gates; the Ninefingers’ guild, the assassins Nemo claims would stay loyal to him, and Enver Gortash’s questionable contacts.

Somewhere in the city there’s a diabolist who will help them break into Hell, and at that point Wyll doesn’t even ask. He doesn’t trust Emperor, and Lae’zel demands Prince Orpheus to be released, so what choice do they truly have?

Somewhere in the city there’s a vampire lord planning to sacrifice seven thousand souls for his own selfish gain.

Somewhere in the city there’s a cult of Shar, hidden in the plain view.

Somewhere underground there’s a Temple of Bhaal, its torches alight, the screams of victims echoing in the halls.

Somewhere in the city where are refugees who managed to flood into the streets at the moment of confusion; somewhere in the streets there are Mol and Umi and the others, there are those of tiefling refugees who managed to survive against all odds.

Somewhere in this city where’s hope, and Wyll will be damned if he does not find it.

***

“Home sweet home,” Nemo smirks as they approach the building on the poor side of town. It seems to be the shoemaker’s shop, a small and unassuming building with the words ‘Flymm's Cobblers’ scratched on the plate near the front. “Didn’t expect this would be first place you’d want to visit.”

“Be quiet,” Gortash snaps back, more tense than Wyll would expect him to be. They are indeed a strange and suspicious group of adventures, with three of their faces put on every wall of the city with the world “reward” underneath. “We’re coming in, I’m taking what’s mine and we leave.”

“So no family reunion then?”

Gortash does not answer, instead working on the lock. Shadowheart looks around just in case, but the streets are empty, quiet. Abandoned.

“This curfew works in our favor,” she comments.

“This curfew is wrong,” Wyll argues.

“Would you two be quiet for a mere fucking moment?” the former lord hisses. “I am trying to do something here.”

“He is breaking into his own home,” Nemo comments helpfully.

“This is not my home and you know it.”

“And yet you still keep things here.”

“No one would think of looking here. Look at this place,” the man manages gesture around without breaking the hold on the lock. “Look at this excuse of a shop. I’m surprised they’re not run down by the debt collectors at the rate they’re going.”

“Wait a moment,” Shadowheart speaks. "You know these people?”

“They’re his-“

“They’re no one.”

The two of the gods’ chosen stare each other down. Nemo is the first to look away.

“Be it your way,” he murmurs. “But I think it’s dumb.”

“You think table manners are dumb.”

“Because they are!”

“Quiet,” Gortash hisses and pushes on the lockpick with the force the poor thing does not deserve. Somehow it works and the lock opens with a soft click. “Inside.”

“Who made you the boss?”

“Nemo, for the fuck’s sake, just once in your goddamn life-“

Shadowheart pushes them all inside and closes the door behind.

“There,” she comments plainly. “That’s better.”

The inside of the store is...quite insignificant, in lack of other, kinder words. The room to the storefront is small, ill-kept and rather unwelcoming. There are pairs of cheap shoes on display behind the counter; not badly-made, but not masterfully either.

Just a little poorly-maintained store in the Lower City, one of the many.

What Enver Gortash is doing here is a question. Nemo called it Gortash's home, but Nemo talks people in circles. His words should be put under scrutiny more often than not.

"Keep watch," the lord barks a command, already climbing the steps, and some part of Wyll wishes to whip the arrogant order off his lips, to remind him he is a lord no more. His fingers tingle with magic, Mizora's gift always ready to draw first blood.

That makes him pause.

Wyll is not that kind of a man and Enver Gortash will not turn him into one.

He resolves to respond with silence, locking gazes with visibly annoyed Shadowheart.

"I fail to see how Nemo finds it charming," she comments, observing the room around them, poorly lit up with the waning moon. "But again, he was raised in a cult."

You were raised in a cult, Wyll almost says, but manages to bit his tongue just in time. This is a dangerous topic.

"And so was I, I suppose," she continues, oblivious to his inner turmoil. "It's funny, I'd never thought Bhaal and Shar would be so alike; in their methods, if nothing else."

"All things evil tend to walk the same path," he offers tentatively, listening closely to the surroundings. So far things seem to be going smoothly. There's not a sound around, not as much as a creak of the stairs. The rooms above are silent, obvious to the intruders no doubt ravaging through things.

An echo of steps appears in the distance, and they crouch by the windows, peeking outside. A single steel watcher walks by, its steps mechanical and devoid of any life. A monstrosity of infernal iron, connected to the tadpole somewhere deep in the Foundry. Gortash told them that much after it became clear the Watchers are no longer his to command.

How they're going to defeat the Elder Brain in possession of one of netherstones is a mystery clouded in a failure.

"Look," Shadowheart murmurs, touching his shoulder. "Near the counter. Isn't that Gortash?"

And indeed it is him, or rather a very well-made portrait of him. It looks expensive and entirely out of place in the poor cobbler's store.

"That's weird," Wyll comments. "Should we investigate this place while our companions are busy?"

Shadowheart makes a face.

"I don't want to think what is it exactly they're busy with," she wrinkles her pretty nose. "Everything concerning these two is bad news."

Wyll can't not agree with that.

They swiftly move to get closer to the portrait, but before they reach it, the small door behind the corner creaks open.

They freeze.

"Who is here?" A shrill voice of an older woman demands and then the woman herself appears, dressed in a cheap nightgown with a shawl draping over her shoulders. "Who is it who dares to break into my house?"

There's something familiar in the crook of her nose, in the shape of her eyes; but Wyll can't for the life of his figure out what.

"Wyll," Shadowheart whispers, suddenly tense. "Can you feel it? This woman, she is..."

Wyll closes his eyes and concentrates on his surroundings, and indeed he can. The pull, not unlike the ones he has felt before, in the presence of so called True Souls.

"She has a tadpole," he whispers back. They could just...navigate conversation though their unusual link granted by tadpoles in their heads, but neither Wyll not Shadowheart like doing that. They have been stripped of personal space for long enough, he thinks, no need to break that little what remains of the inner walls.

"She does," Shadowheart agrees. "And it almost like...Like something fights it, tries to push the worm away, but to no avail."

"Her real mind perhaps, part of it not controlled by the tadpole?"

"Perhaps," she agrees. "I will try to reach out to it."

And, before he manages to stop her, she does.

The revelation it brings them both is worse than they could have expected.

***

Wyll pulls back at the sound of the steps above, interrupting the woman's inner pleas.

His mother. This woman, Sally Flymm, is Enver Gortash’s mother.

Worse, she sold her son - the spiteful ungrateful brat as she called him - to a warlock.

Worst of all, the tadpole in her brain is her son's doing.

The loud voice of said son interrupts his line of thoughts.

"We need to go," Gortash tells someone, irritation clear in his voice. "Let go of my forearm, if you may."

"But my boy," a man's voice replies. "You only just returned home, surely you will stay-"

"This is not my home," the lord cuts off sharply. "And I'm not staying. Come on," he nods at Wyll. "I have all we need, there's no reason to stay in this wretched place any longer."

"Enver," Sally Flymm, or rather the tadpole operating her body, speaks. "You won't rob us of your presence so quickly, will you? Please, I beg of you, at least stay for a tea. I can make some sweet to go by. Not a feast worthy of archduke, but-"

"No," he cuts off. Wyll can't help but notice the tension in his shoulders, the sharp edge in his voice. Enver Gortash has orchestrated this concerto, yet hates to participate.

For the first time since ever Wyll can't fault him for that. His father has his flaws and he did banish Wyll from his home - for a good reason -, but Ulder Ravengard would never do something like the cruel deed of the Flymms.

Nemo trails behind his companion, quiet for a change, eyes shrewd and thoughtful. Wyll knows Nemo is a noisy person and he bets the bhaalspawn reached for the man's mind the same way Shadowheart reached for Sally's. He wonders what Nemo found there.

They leave as quickly as they came, and just as quietly. The portrait on the wall doesn't leave Wyll's mind. It's expensive and well-made presence clashes with the environment, making him suspect how the portrait appeared there in the first place.

They sold him into slavery, he thinks, and his heart aches for the little boy Enver Flymm used to be. And in return he locked them inside their minds and made repeat the words of admiration.

Somehow it rings even worse than if Gortash had simply killed them. Somehow it tells more of the deep unhealed wound on the tyrant's soul.

It sure as hell does not excuse a thing, but at least gives some explanations to why.

"So," Nemo starts as they almost reach their hideout. Renting rooms in Elfsong was out of question, that with sparse recourses they have and being haunted by the law. By Elder Brain using the law for a tool, Wyll mentally corrects himself. So abandoned house close to the docks was pretty much their only option. That or the sewers, and Wyll really didn't want to camp in there. "Nice place. I like what you did to it."

There's an undeniable undertone to his words Gortash catches on almost immediately. He whips his head to the spawn, staring him down. Nemo only smiles languidly, clearly pleased with- himself? Situation they found themselves in? What Enver Gortash did to his parents?

The last one, Wyll decides. It would be the kind of thing Nemo appreciates.

Nemo seems to have a personal vendetta against parents all around the world, an echo of his existence as a child of a cruel god.

After a moment of scrutinizing inspection in which Gortash stared into Nemo's face as if looking for a trick and Nemo stared right back, relaxed under such pressing attention, the lord's posture slightly eases.

"Thank you," he lets out, turning away. "I knew you would get it."

There's strange, ominous kind of silence that falls between them.

Wyll can feel Nemo's mind buzz with elation and dark satisfaction. Not only he approves of Gortash's treatment of his parents, but the mere fact of said treatment makes him...not exactly happy, but cheerful, like a child who got the candy.

Wyll once again grieves for a boy Nemo never was, for a life created for a single, awful purpose.

He swears to break the chains tying his friend to the god of Murder.

***

"You need to break out of Bhaal's hold," Shadowheart states as they close the door to their hideout, Gortash quick to leave them behind and stroll for the room he claimed as his. Nemo turns around, curious.

"I do not exactly disagree with that statement," he hums. "But why bring it now?"

The woman reaches out, raising her hand, then letting it drop before it touches the spawn.

"It's just a thought I had," she replies, visibly closing off. Wyll sighs and wraps his arms each around one of his companions, feeling them both tense.

Children of the cults, playthings of the evil gods.

He will not leave them to it.

"Because you owe nothing to the evil who claims to be your god," he replies instead.

Nemo snorts.

"I'm pretty sure I owe him my own existence. Made of the god's flesh, remember?"

"Did you ask to be made?" that shuts the half-elf down. "That's what I thought. No child should bear the weight of their parent's expectations the way you do, not even a child of a god."

"Especially not a child of a god," Shadowheart chimes in. "And...I just had a curious thought. Parents sure are the first gods we ever worship, aren't they?"

Wyll contemplates it for a moment, but has to agree. Once upon a time Ulder Ravengard was his everything: his father, his hero, the symbol of everything Wyll strived to be.

Now he is but a tired warrior in a fight bigger than his life. Now he looks mortal.

This, Wyll thinks, is what growing up feels like.

"Are we going to address what we saw in that shop?" He asks quietly and is sure his friends understand the meaning.

"Depends," Nemo hums. "Do you want to get a bolt in the lungs? Kidney if you're lucky."

Shadowheart laughs, quietly as if she isn't sure she is allowed to.

Wyll wonders how hard it is to kill a goddess;  Shar has it coming anyway, after the Shadow curse and all the grief it brought.

"I'll pass," he comments instead, hugging his friends closer.

"Oh, a group hug," Astarion's voice reaches them before the vampire does. "Why are you having a group hug without us?"

"Because they're evil," Karlach comments. "Very evil. No fun. No hugs for me either, it seems. Despite, you know, me being the best hugger in the world."

Shadowheart laughs again, brighter this time, her cheeks warm. Wyll doesn't miss the way cleric brightens up in the presence of their fiery friend.

"That's true," Nemo comments, snaking out of Wyll's embrace. "I indeed am the worst person you'll ever meet. Now, if you excuse me, my evil deeds await," and he goes for the stairs, slightly wary around Karlach as he passes her by.

Wyll hates it, he hates the tension what has grown out between them ever since Nemo's confession and even more - after Gortash unexpectedly joining in. It's like they're drawing lines in the sand, with Nemo being steadily on one side with Gortash, and them - on the other.

He had thought they have built alliances, what they've grown closer, became friends, but the blunt way Nemo keeps choosing tyrant over them puts it in question.

Astarion seems to gravitate to where Nemo is, almost subconsciously, Wyll isn't even sure the spawn knows he does it.

Gale is staying aside for now, not willing to pick a side and not ready to condemn anyone.

Jaheira, surprisingly, is much warmer to Nemo than anyone would expect her to be.

It has to be the way Nemo denies his father; the way the struggle is clear on his face as Lord Bhaal calls for his wayward son; the way half-elf demands answers for how to defeat him from the harper: "How did Abdel Adrian did it? How did he free himself from the Dread Lord's bloody hold? How, how, how? Help me defy him, help me deny him. He will not have me, I am his puppet no more."

Halsin stays on some distance from Nemo, taking a stance similar to Gale's. He doesn't exactly like Nemo, that much is clear, but he also cannot deny his part of breaking the Shadow curse. Why Nemo even helped with that is a question Wyll still battles with. He hopes it is because, despite everything, there is a part of his friend that seeks light, what wishes to do good. What it's not just the lack of former power what makes Nemo form alliances and rescue refugees. Wyll believes there's goodness in him.

He hopes he isn't wrong.

He also hopes he won't have to fight Nemo, what he will not cross the line, does not breach the point of no return.

There's an awful thought what the point of no return has been crossed long before that. Fifty years of servitude to Bhaal is a long time. A long reign of blood and terror.

"What deeds?" Karlach calls out, almost grasping Nemo by the wrist, the man dancing out of the touch at the last moment.

"I already said: evil."

"Nemo."

Nemo sighs.

"Fine, fine, I'll answer," he became less cooperative since Gortash. A lot of things changed for worse since that. "I want to try and track assassins operating through the city. Some of them should've kept their brains in their heads and know what's good for them."

"And what's good for them?" Wyll isn't sure he likes where it's going.

"Me, obviously. Not my dreadful father and definitely not Orin, tadpoled or not."

"We need to find Minsc before you decide to deal with your family business," Jaheira interferes, appearing as if out of the thin air.

"I know," half-elf nods. "I have already contacted some of Ninefingers' run-arounds. I believe we will be allowed to enter her little den, but can't promise she will cooperate."

Jaheira's eyebrows climb up.

"You two know each other?"

"We do," Nemo sighs. "We had a truce of sorts after our organizations clashed badly. Same sewers, you know. People would run into each other sooner or later."

"I find it hard to believe she would agree to a truce so easily."

"I didn't say it was easy. It was a pain in the ass, actually. And I'm pretty sure the truce doesn't stand anymore, Orin would ruin all my hard work the moment she had the chance."

"I can't believe you've been a cult leader for thirty years," Karlach comments. "What did you even do? No, don't say it, I know, e-"

"Evil things," Nemo replies, a shit-eating grin pulling the corners of his lips up.

Karlach sighs loudly and rather dramatically.

"There is more in the world than evil things, you know?"

"Hm," Nemo hums. "Let me think about it. I'm sure I've heard something about things other than evil, but can't exactly point out to where..."

"Alright, smartass, I give up."

"Already?" Another sharp smile. "That was-" words die on his lips out of sudden, along with the smile. It slides off as if poorly drawn picture being washed away. His muscles tense, a telltale of the pain to come.

Shit. Not again, not so soon.

"Nemo?" Karlach tries warily.

"Get the fucking chains," Nemo manages to croak. "I- his face contorts in a painful spasm. "-hate this par-" he chocks on his words, biting into his own tongue. A thin trail of blood appears on his chin.

"Hold on, darling," Astarion seems to be that particular kind of fool who does not fear Nemo even when he should be. Even then it's the sane thing to do. Instead he steps closer, hands reaching to Nemo's.

"No!" He bhaalspawn gasps. "Chains-"

Karlach rushes back into the room, and when did she leave? She drops a long chain over Nemo's shoulders and starts fixing the locks.

"I hate everything about it," Wyll comments as his hands already move to cast the spell. He does hate every part of it.

"Shh," Astarion, almost obvious to the ruckus around, cups Nemo's cheeks in his palms. "I got you."

"Get away from me," Nemo tries to order, his voice breaking into a roar at the end. "Astarion, please, just get away-" his body convulses as power beyond man's control takes a hold, breaking bones and tendrils alike. It never goes the full way, the transformation Bhaal inflicts on his son, but it's no less horrifying for that.

"What's up with you lot this time?" Gortash descends the steps in a hurried annoyance, brought back by the noise. He freezes midway at the sight. "Again? The last time was just-"

"Father doesn't exactly care for the timing," it has to be a sheer need to have the last word what pushes words through Nemo's lungs. He chocks on the air then, trashing in the chains holding him down. Shadowheart joins her spell to Wyll's, amplifying it, as Jaheira's vine creeps about the spawns body, locking it in it's hold.

There's not a shadow of a smug expression on Gortash's face. Instead there's a look of someone staring straight into the abyss and not being able to look away.

"Stop-" Nemo croaks. "Staring...Creep."

Astarion laughs, a shrill and pained sound it is.

"You have an awful taste in men," he comments, smoothing the creases on the bhaalspawn’s shirt.

"Astarion, get out of there," Jaheira commands. "He isn't safe to be around now."

"I know that," the spawn huffs in annoyance. And yet he moves nowhere, a hand circling in smooth motion over Nemo's heart now. Nemo tries to claw at him, but the vines and the chains hold him down. Then he snaps his teeth dangerously close to Astarion's face.

"Well, now," the elf comments, entirely unbothered. "We ask before we bite."

"Since...then?"

"Since we learned we're more than just rabid beasts driven by hunger. Now," Astarion glances back at Shadowheart already casting the spell. "Rest, darling."

The sleeping spell hits Nemo in the head and gets to work immediately. The bhaalspawn struggles, before succumbing to it and sliding to the floor in a heap of limbs.

Everyone breathes out.

"Well, then," Wyll concludes. "It's another night of watching over our friend. Who takes the first shift?"

[crossdressingdeath]

The thing about AUs where Durge doesn't have amnesia but does still get tadpoled is that they can be Very Serious or absolutely hilarious. Like, there are all the angst possibilities of Durge knowing their friends will hate them if they learn what they're hiding from the group and the group's feelings of betrayal when the truth comes out and all that, but imagine the Wild Shit Durge could come out with if they remembered everything.

[caffinedragon]

Durge remebers his life before...sort of.

An Au headcanon:

R'yleh(durge) rememberd his life before being tadpoled but its a bit different from the reality.

Instead of his canon life he remembers this:

"I was the son of a Bhaalist cult leader in Baulders Gate who treated my sister and I like shit. We were his left hands, killing in order to further his cult and ambition. And when we werent doing that, he was pitting us against eachother to be his 'top assasin.'

I thought it was normal. Never really questioned it. Didnt have any reason too.

Despite me and my sisyer always competing for dads favor my life was...pretty good, considering some of the other poor bastards in the city.

Pretty swanky roof over my head, never without food or clothes, plenty of heat during the cold months, etc.

But then I met my buddy Envy. And He questioned everything. And I mean EVERYTHING.

And his questioning sort of flipped a switch in my brain. A need for knowledge and to know how everything worked and why seemed to possess me.

I began to wonder where my strange powers come from. Why I felt more at home in the water then in the Bhaal temple. Why I always seemed to know things and hear things I shouldnt. Why I always felt...wrong in my own body.

And with his help, we found out why.

Turns out my father is a bit of a monster fucker. Had a crazy one night stand with a Great Old One of all things.

And after I was born, my dad somehow stole me from her and hid me away in the temple where he thoguht she wouldnt find me.

Unfortunately for him, I found her.

She taught me many things my father had denied me, unlocked powers my dad had surpressed, and showed me how a parent was supposed to love thier child.

And the only thing she wanted in return?

Was to be there for me as a mother should be for her son.

Needless to say, I was fucking pissed after that.

I went from being daddy's favorite obedient son, to a thorn in his mother fucking side.

Even had a whole plan to dethrone him so me and my buddy could take over.

But, it seemed we underestimated dear old dad.

The last memory I have is of my baby sister, getting the drop on me and stabbing me in the skull.

Guess she got to be daddy's favorite like she always wanted.

But now, everybody thinks I am fucking dead. Other than the tadpole squirming in my brain, I am free to do whatever I damn well please.

And I couldnt be happier.

Too bad I couldnt have taken Envy with me. His dad was a piece of shit too."

[maegalkarven]

I keep trying to reason why Nemo acts the way he acts, why he keeps performing Traditionally Good deeds (saving Arabella, saving tieflings, saving Mayrina, etc), but then I remember:

It's his first outing. It's the first time in his life when he can do whatever he wants and not what his father commands him to. It's the first time he doesn't have to fear disapproval and punishment (he has already fallen from grace, there's no lower than that). It's the first time Bhaal can't just use his body to do whatever because tadpole prevents it.

It's the first time he even has a clue what freedom is like.

And the thing is, Nemo is a curious being. And he has killed tons of people over the course of his life.

So what if he...doesn't? What then? So he tries that. And the outcome is..something new. Something he never experienced before .

And then people start to praise him for what he does. Start thanking him, giving him things. It's...nice. It's fun! Turns out doing good things is fun!

Like Nemo doesn't know SO MUCH, he doesn't know the world, he has never been outside BG before (except two travels to Hell and it was the biggest vacation for him). Bhaal kept him on the tightest leash ever and he knew NOTHING but the Temple and Father's rules.

Of course he's chaotic mess of random actions, it's his first time unsupervised ever.

[maegalkarven]

Yesss you GET IT. I adore Gortash because of the depth in his narrative (I love the way all 3 Chosen are written but Gortash’s especially), and you’re right, his trauma led him on this path but it solidified him to be entirely self serving and he would definitely fight tooth and nail to maintain what he’s earned through ruthless means and start over again if it was taken from him somehow, redemption would be insanely hard for him in any capacity realistically to the narrative as it is (but on the other hand it’s also fun to live in our delusions and I eat up those fics hehe), redemption may be possible if he had some severe amnesia bout like Durge did and literally forgot everything he’s ever learnt or done… But yeah long winded way to say I agree with your analysis!

Love a good tragic villain, they’re all so captivating. Larian did a fantastic job.

Thank you!

In conclusion: amnesia really is the only thing fixing that man huh (and that's not even guaranteed)

Larian did indeed an amazing job with their villains. All of them are human(elves, etc.) three-dimensional and very realistic. I wasn't planning on latching into one of the Big Bad of the game for life, but does it stop my Gortash obsession? Nah xD