#bjk plays baldur's gate 3

[blackjackkent]

Awwww. OK, following on from that drabble I just wrote about Hector talking with Jaheira and Karlach about the Cazador stuff... if we click on Jaheira she has a little situational dialogue with Astarion!

"They say that the only thing a vampire can feel is hunger. Nothing else touches them - not grief, or mercy. Or any sense of what is just."

"Do they? Well, there must be something to it then."

"Careful, Astarion. Despite your every effort to the contrary, I am in danger of thinking you might be a good man."

[blackjackkent]

Owlbear Vignettes

At first, Buddy sticks very close to Hector in camp. Hector was the one who fed him first. Hector is kind, with a soft voice. Hector gives him scritches between the ears and murmurs blessings Buddy doesn't understand. Hector is not Mother, but Hector is safe.

The others take some getting used to.

-----

Karlach is not expecting it, the first night Buddy tries to sleep in the tent with them. She's half-asleep and at first only dimly aware of claws jabbing through her clothes, which meld unpleasantly with a dream of stinging sparks in the Hells. Her eyes flicker open - and then she jumps as she comes face to face with an owlbear beak. Buddy has nestled himself between her and Hector, curled into a floofed-up ball.

"Aw, hells. Hec--" she says sleepily.

"Mmph?" Hector answers. "Wha-- ack!" There's a sudden sputtering noise as he rolls over into a faceful of feathers.

"That."

She hears Hector laugh softly in the darkness. "Buddy, you can't sleep there." He nudges at the cub's flank; Buddy makes a soft noise of objection. "Come on, Bud."

Buddy gives a chirping whine but allows himself to be displaced so Hector can snuggle in against Karlach again. The cub considers the situation for a moment, then flops deliberately on Hector's other side, staring at Karlach the whole time as if daring her to say anything about it.

"I think I have competition," she tells Hector with a grin.

"You're way prettier than he is, don't worry," Hector mumbles into her shoulder.

-----

Gale makes a picture of a woman, but she has no smell. Buddy doesn't like that. It seems wrong.

Wyll emerges from his tent to the sound of Waterdhavian-accented oration at full volume.

"That is the goddess of magic, Buddy. That is Mystra herself!" Gale is lecturing the little beast, poking a finger into Buddy's face. "You cannot simply swipe a claw through her as if she were a mouse you'd caught unawares. That is a disrespect of the highest order and I would have thought you smart enough to know better."

Buddy listens attentively, his head cocked over to one side, occasionally chirping whenever Gale pauses for breath.

"I understand that you are an owlbear and therefore not privy to the mysteries of the Weave," the mage goes on. "But that does not exempt you from a certain level of basic decency towards the divine. I will thank you to remember this in future and improve your decorum."

Wyll grins, folding his arms as he watches this little display unfold. "Do you want to try it again with an animal speaking potion?"

Gale sighs. "No, no, never mind. He's just a beast after all, he can't really be expected to understand."

"I don't know," Wyll says mildly. "Perhaps he has the right of it. A protective instinct, if you will, given the target does want you to blow yourself up. I think he's not the only one in camp who would give her a swipe if they could."

"I'll thank you to keep your disrespect to yourself as well," Gale says dryly. His fingers flick through the air, conjuring a new, glowing image of his goddess.

Buddy swats a paw through her again at once.

-----

The githyanki is sharp like Mother's claws. She snaps when Buddy comes close, sniffs disdainfully when he scarfs down some of the camp supplies. He steers clear and watches her from a distance.

He understands how this works. She is one of the alphas. She must be brought a gift before she will accept him in the flock.

One night, Hector watches with bemusement as the cub, his whole expression screwed up with deep owlbear concentration, drags a large dead rabbit through the camp.

Catching Hector's gaze, he drops the rabbit and chirps softly, wandering in a slow circle around his prize. His feathers fluff up in a deliberate attempt to make himself look bigger, as if to steel himself for a great challenge. Then he grabs the rabbit again by the head, and in a single smooth motion, drags it into the tent where Lae'zel is currently sleeping.

There is a brief moment of silence, followed by a yell that echoes through the whole camp. Buddy, still poofed out in all directions, comes sailing through the tent flap, tumbling end over end and hitting the ground some distance away. The dead rabbit follows closely thereafter.

The next morning, Lae'zel acts as if nothing happens, but Hector does note with some surprise that she gives Buddy an absent pat on the head every time she walks past him. Later, she offers him a torn off scrap of the hunk of jerky she grabs for her evening meal.

"You're not holding his midnight visit against him, then?" Hector asks her.

"On the contrary," she says gravely. "The creature offered tribute to me as its jhe'stil, and showed bravery in doing so. It has earned the respect due a beast of combat."

"But you threw him out of the tent!"

She looks at him unblinkingly. "Yes."

Hector considers trying to understand this, and then decides not to bother.

-----

Shadowheart rarely comes close at first to either Buddy or Scratch. She is wary of them as beasts of the forest. Scratch says she is afraid of wolves. Buddy is NOT a wolf - but he is almost as big as one, so he thinks maybe it makes sense.

She often looks at him like she would like to pet him, though. A few times, she does drift near, and lays her hand gently between his ears on the soft feathers at the nape of his neck. And he sees a little smile tug at her lips - but then there is a flash of magic around her hand, and she winces or cries out in pain and draws away.

Many weeks on, deep in the Shadowlands, there is a great commotion one night - an explosion of light and crashing and roaring in the distance. Buddy watches with great interest, and some concern, as Hector returns to the camp with Karlach and Wyll, all of them covered in blood and slime. Shadowheart, equally battered, follows behind them at a distance, her eyes hollow and her face even paler than usual.

Buddy finds her in her tent later, staring at the wall in the darkness. He sits in the tent flap and chirps questioningly.

"No. Go away," she mutters. "I can't--"

She falls silent. He chirps again, scoots a little closer to her.

"It hurt so much..." she whispers. "All this time, all that pain... for a lie..."

She gives a sudden hoarse, humorless laugh. "There was never any wolf. D'you know that? There was never any wolf at all."

He gives a soft, whickering sort of noise and nudges his head cautiously against her hand. There is no flash of magic, no cry of pain. He does it again. Her fingers fist suddenly into his feathers, pulling him towards her.

He squawks, alarmed, then relaxes as she presses her face into the soft down of his back and sobs.

-----

Late one night, Astarion tracks a deer through the woods. They're difficulty prey, jumpy and skittish, but his steps are light, an almost inaudible tread. And they have quite a lot of blood in them. The hunger gnaws at his stomach and his red eyes gleam in the moonlight.

Just a little closer...

His boot knocks against an ill-placed stone, barely a rustle of sound but enough. The deer lifts its head and gives a keening cry, and bolts.

"Oh-- damn it," he mutters, straightening out of his crouched position. His fingers flex with undirected frustration and he leans heavily against a nearby tree. "Damn, damn, damn." What a feast that would have been... the local squirrel population has been decent, but deer is something else entirely. One of his favorites, second only to the kobolds and, of course, the one pure draught he got from Hector's throat...

His thoughts are interrupted by the sound of an animal squealing in abject pain, a ripping, tearing noise of wet meat - and then a soft chirp. He looks down, puzzled.

Buddy is sitting looking up at him with bright, wide eyes. His beak is coated in blood, and he bounces in an excited circle around Astarion's feet before guiding him through the foliage nearby. The deer sits sprawled on the mossy ground, its head bent at an odd angle.

"Huh." Astarion raises his eyebrows, examining the gory tableau. His stomach growls audibly at the glinting shine of wet blood at the deer's throat. "Not badly done. I didn't think I was in the market for a hunting partner, but perhaps we should work together more often."

Buddy wiggles all over with excitement and butts his head against Astarion's leg.

"Yes, yes, you're very cute. Now stay out of the way and let me drain this thing before you start looking tasty as well."

-------

"No!" Minsc bellows, looking down at the cub imperiously. "You will stand aside, beast; though your talons be very sharp and your beak to match, Minsc will bear each scratch before you shall lay one claw upon Boo!"

Buddy cowers back, his eyes very wide and all his feathers standing up, as the berserker towers over him. Boo sits atop Minsc's head and squeaks angrily down at the cub from his perch.

"Minsc!" Jaheira steps in between them, raising one hand before Minsc can speak again. "Calm yourself. I heard you all the way across the camp. What is the matter?"

"Minsc woke to find the little feather-beast eyeing Boo with the hungriest of eyes," Minsc says fiercely. "Does he think Boo a little snack to be feasted upon?!"

"No doubt," Jaheira says calmly, struggling not to smile; Minsc is obviously incensed, and yet there is something comical in seeing him stare down the little round ball of feathers with such ferocity. "For he is a beast of nature; why should he know otherwise?"

"Well, he shall not have him!"

"Peace." Jaheira crouches next to the owlbear, murmurs a spell under her breath; green light flares around her body. "Do you hear me, cub?" she murmurs.

Buddy goes very still; his feathers flatten out and he stares at her with wide eyes. "You... speak?" he whispers.

"With all the wisdom that nature gave me." She smiles, reaches out to scratch him under the chin. "You must leave the hamster alone. For he is Minsc's to protect, as you are Hector's."

The cub chirrups skeptically. "Rat. Tasty," he points out.

"There is no shortage of rats in the city," Jaheira says dryly. "We shall find you other meat. But you must promise to leave Boo in safety."

Buddy makes a soft grumbling noise. "All right. Promise," he mumbles.

Jaheira looks up at Minsc, her eyes glinting with amusement. "The bargain is made," she says soberly.

"Ah." Minsc brightens up at once and grins. "Good. Minsc did not want to kick such a little, cute butt, if there was any helping it."

Buddy trots along at Jaheira's side as she walks away; his sharp little eyes peer up at her excitedly. "You speak. New Mother?" he asks hopefully.

"Gods. No," Jaheira sputters. "I am no more your mother than I am Minsc's Wychlaran; where does everyone get these ideas?"

Buddy's ears turn down. "Just hoped."

She pauses, then smiles faintly. "I may not be your mother, cub, but I think you have a whole camp full of family. As creatures of the wilderness go, you have it made."

-----

Withers examines the cub closely as it creeps around the edge of the camp, watching him from the shadows. "I offer no threat to thee, little beast," the skeleton intones gravely. "Thou hast no need of secrecy."

Buddy chirps. Emerging from the shadows, he sits at Withers' feet, looking up at him.

Withers' expression does not shift. "Indeed," he murmurs. "A creature without mooring. Untethered and yet bound. A matter of luck... or of fate."

Buddy tips his head slowly to one side.

"Thou art a pillar, upon which is built the lever which shall move the world." The faintest hint of a smile twists the skeleton's lips. "And yet thou knowest it not. This is as it should be. By such truths does all remain in balance."

[blackjackkent]

Holy crap, holy crap, holy crap, MAJOR DEVELOPMENT that I only FIGURED OUT because I am a FUCKING NERD.

Maybe this is common knowledge in the fandom, but it seems like maybe it might not be, but either way my little nerd brain is so happy right now.

OK, so Hector and co. are wandering around the Emperor's old Knights of the Shield hideout, right? And wandering into the main hidden room, a few (mostly inconsequential-seeming) items cropped up with perception checks which the Emperor had comments about:

Then, on examining a painting on the wall:

And then, an INCREDIBLY INTERESTING LITTLE DETAIL, which triggered when Hector picked up a random spoon on a table:

This sounds like I'm joking, but I'm actually not. This is an INCREDIBLY DEEP CUT Baldur's Gate 1 reference, which I would absolutely not have even picked up on myself if I had not literally JUST looked at part of my BG1 liveblog this morning, because I was revisiting Caden's doppelganger encounters to compare them to Hector's.

The butter knife in question is an item that you can find in Baldur's Gate 1 on the werewolf island. One of the things Caden had to do while shipwrecked there (in between crushing on the local werewolf lady) was break into another old shipwreck which had belonged to Balduran, a legendary explorer and trader who is the namesake of the city of Baldur's Gate.

And within that shipwreck, guess what Caden found?

Incredible. Holy shit.

The Emperor was fucking BALDURAN before he got mind-flayered????????

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

WELL THAT IS A MAJOR DEVELOPMENT

I fucking love that this is just randomly slotted in here to reward anyone who happened to pick up on the connection and just blow the case wide open. And I love that it's secreted in here among a bunch of other similarly inconsequential-seeming stuff so that it would seem completely unimportant to anyone who didn't make the leap.

This game is so good. And I am a huge nerd and enjoying this so much holy crap.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

[blackjackkent]

"So here's a question for you," Karlach says to Hector as they walk out of the Stormshore Tabernacle.

"Hm?" Hector says distractedly, his thoughts still on Gale's encounter with Mystra.

"Would you sleep with Selune?"

Hector is startled entirely out of his preoccupation and blinks at her rapidly. "Excuse me?"

She grins at his reaction. "Gale slept with Mystra, right? A whole lot, the way he tells it. So I'm just wondering. If Selune offered you the chance to shack up, would you take it?"

"Uh." Hector clears his throat; he isn't sure whether to blush, laugh, or look around for a moonbeam to drop and smite them off the street. "Is this you fishing for a compliment?" he finally asks with a hint of amusement. "About how I wouldn't even think about it when I have you?"

"No." She chuckles. "Though that's very sweet of you. But I'm serious. Selune. Smash or pass?"

"You are--" He's definitely laughing now, and at the same time trying very hard not to, leading to a sort of wheezing exhale, his fist pressed to his mouth. "You can't just ask a question like that! She's the Moonmaiden!"

"So? Mystra's got the whole Weave to look after, and that doesn't seem to have stopped her from wanting to grease Gale's quarterstaff, if you know what I mean." Karlach is grinning from ear to ear, fully enjoying his discomfiture.

"Gods..." Hector runs a hand down his face, struggling to force his face back to something resembling composure. "No, I would not sleep with Selune, given the chance."

Karlach puts her hands around her mouth and lowers her voice an octave, mimicking a divine boom from the heavens. "WHAT? WHY NOT, HECTOR CARLISLE? AM I NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU?"

Hector gives her a light punch in the shoulder. "Stop it, you."

She snickers. "ALL BEHOLD THIS MORTAL WHO WOULD RATHER SOME PUNY TIEFLING THAN THE GODDESS OF MOONLIGHT!"

"Gah!" Laughing, he tackles her around the midriff, wrapping his arms around her and knocking her gently against a nearby wall.

She bursts out into a fit of giggling, dropping her arms down to his shoulders. "Ahhh-- you got me. Chastised good and proper, I am."

"I should hope so." He's still grinning in spite of himself as he looks up at her. "Selune stands far beyond me, and it's better that way; I'm not sure anything Mystra offered Gale was good for him in the end. And I would much rather have the Moonmaiden's blessing than her love."

He pauses, then tugs the collar of her armor gently until she leans forward and he can press a kiss against her lips. "But it's true, anyway - I don't need a goddess when I have you."

[blackjackkent]

I didn't have a place to include it in the last post where it wouldn't have been distractingly hilarious, but please enjoy this shot of everyone struggling against the influence of the Wall Meat:

[blackjackkent]

Jaheira's office does indeed look completely overgrown, which is apropos to be honest.

There's several notes in here from various people regarding her investigations into the cult and the shadowlands prior to her departure to Last Light. Also a note from the Flaming Fist indicating that Rion and Jord have been helping to "settle street disputes" in a fashion the Fist disapproves of, and a clipping from the Baldur's Mouth Gazette relating to the Beloved Ranger statue (which was actually Minsc) disappearing.

There's a button operated by the pin Tate gave us on the side of her desk; it opens a pathway down into "Jaheira's Hideout" beneath the house.

Whoa.

There are quite a number of these traps set up. The Narrator informs us, on a passed arcana check, that these are attuned to the druid who set them - Jaheira - but that they can be overwhelmed by being hit with the same element.

I trust you implicitly, Jaheira, and also I can't figure out what pressure plate you're talking about. So I hope you're right. XD

At the bottom of the hill is... well, a sort of paradise.

A gorgeous green lagoon rounded with trees and plants and a run-down but sturdy house of wood and thatch. Next to it is a badger, labeled "Postmaster Badger", and several "Messenger Rats."

"The only patch of wilderness this city permits me," Jaheira says wistfully. "There ought to be supplies here to aid us."

"You know this place, Boo?" Minsc says indignantly. "Hmph. Minsc has never been invited."

Everything inside the house is trapped. XD I quicksaved aggressively while disarming everything because I was very afraid of exploding Jaheira's sanctuary by accident.

In disarming the traps, Hector finds a hidden door behind a bookshelf.

Jaheira reaches out and puts a hand on his arm before he can proceed. "Keen eye," she says quietly. "But if it's supplies you seek, weapons to aid in our fight - you won't find them behind that door." He can hear a sudden effort in her voice, one he knows all too well - the struggle against sudden emotion. "There is nothing back there of worth to anyone but me."

Hector looks at her thoughtfully. His curiosity is piqued, certainly, and it is a powerful force on its own - but more than that, he has been fascinated, over this past hour or so, at seeing beneath the brittle shell that Jaheira always presents to the world. "If it matters to you, it matters to me," he says earnestly.

She looks away from him, her eyes flicking rapidly around the room. "On my word," she mutters. "All you will find inside is dust, and the mouldering keepsakes of a much younger woman."

"Jaheira," Minsc rumbles gently. "Our friend has put their trust in us. Boo thinks it only right to return the gesture, no?"

For a moment, Hector thinks she is going to lash out, defensive-- but then she hesitates, and smiles ruefully. "You so rarely make a habit of being right, ranger, that it puts me ill at ease when you are." She sighs, looks back to Hector and nods. "Pass, then. Go on. See what it is a foolish old Harper thinks worth hiding away."

Hector holds himself still for a moment, giving her the chance to change her mind. He is curious, and he welcomes the chance to connect with her here-- but he will not push where he isn't wanted.

When she doesn't object, he leans over and pushes the bookcase aside.

It's an unassuming little area, really - no more than a dirt cave behind the house. A large chest, several display cases and crates and a table covered in scrolls.

-----

The table first, and the scroll on it:

"Rite of the Timeless Body," Hector says thoughtfully. "What's that about? I'd best ask Jaheira."

"I found a strange scroll in your sanctuary. Something about a 'timeless body'?"

She snorts. "The threat of spanking never kept the children from poking through my things. Why should it deter you." She glances at the paper on the table. "It is... a ritual. Or it describes one at least. Practiced by druids of certain esoteric circles. If they be learned and powerful enough, the practitioner of this ritual might slow their aging, extend their life well beyond its natural reach. In greener days, I might have been strong enough to do it. I might be yet, with the right preparations."

Hector blinks. "So you plan to do it?"

Jaheira hesitates, shrugs. "I make no plans. Only... contingencies." She scowls, seeing the expression on his face. "Do not look at me like that. I have been content to see the span of my natural years - a privilege far too few in this world can claim. I do not speak of clinging to life for its own sake. I just... look back on that life's work and I wonder... is it done?"

She lets out a heavy breath and leans against the wall of the building behind them. "The Dead Three plague the world still. The city still falls prey to small minds like Gortash or lost souls like Orin. It is every Harper's hope to be a light that drives out darkness. But I've lived long enough to see so many of those lights burn out, while the shadows cling stubbornly on. Knowing that, isn't it our duty to burn on if we can? To fight for as long as we are able?"

Karlach gives a sudden, sharp laugh at Hector's side. "You're preaching to the doomed choir, ma'am," she says sardonically.

Jaheira smiles sadly. "You've done more than your share of fighting already, Karlach," she says. "If there is one person I would trust to make the most of a longer life, it is you."

Hector knows he shouldn't ask, he knows it isn't fair with Karlach standing right there to hear him... but the words slip out anyway. "Would you live on at any cost?" he asks.

She quirks an eyebrow at him. "In truth, I had put this ritual from my mind - until Last Light. Trapped in that darkness, I turned to my research again. What if I was a little stronger? As fast as I once had been?" She shrugs. "Then you came, and made the question moot. But I kept this. Just in case, I told myself. A final resort. Perhaps you were not the savior you seemed. I had learned better than to think of life as some simple tale, after all. There is no guarantee of happy endings, or true heroes."

She looks at him thoughtfully for a moment before going on. "I believe that still. But when I look on all we have achieved since, I wonder... perhaps it is not heroes we need. Only people who are willing to try. I do not know what manner of story that makes. But I do know that, without an ending, it would be no story at all." She gives a short, sharp nod. "So I will accept mine, when and however it comes. As for this city's story, well..." She grins suddenly, pockets the scroll. "Well, that is entirely your problem now, cub."

He smiles slightly. "I'm honored you think of me that way."

"Hah. Do not thank me for slinging a weight around your neck," she says dryly. "I might start to feel bad." She huffs out a breath and shakes her head. "I do mean what I say - but I am also a Harper. In every honeyed word, there is a hook. But I do not plan on going anywhere just yet."

She pauses, and then grins with gallows humor. "And besides, you still have a tadpole in your skull. You are almost certainly going to die first."

Hector doesn't really think that's particularly funny.

-----

(A/N: Time for some incredibly self-indulgent headcanon - in this worldstate and in my particular headcanons for Jaheira post-BG2, you cannot convince me that she didn't obtain the information on that ritual partially for Rasaad, knowing she was going to outlive him by a century and not wanting to face losing another man she loved. Though I think the more altruistic explanations for her wanting it still also applied. (And perhaps Rasaad wouldn't have accepted it anyway even if she'd been able to figure it out.) She does say she put it aside for quite a while, until Last Light. Probably after Rasaad died.)

-----

Throwbacks!

There are two Very Rare quality weapons in the chest opposite the table:

This is a scimitar first found in a haybale near the Druid's Grove outside Trademeet, in Baldur's Gate 2.

This staff is obtained in Watcher's Keep in the Throne of Bhaal expansion. Caden (to my recollection) never went there during my playthrough, but that doesn't mean he didn't while I wasn't paying attention. ;) Cespenar also apparently can upgrade it in the pocket plane.

I miss Cespenar. I hope he's doing well.

-----

Finally, at the back of the room is a slightly dusty-looking display case.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Aw man, c'mon, I just teared up. You can't hit me with a throwback like that and expect me to remain normal.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

This is the necklace that Khalid makes for Jaheira (if you help him) in the Siege of Dragonspear expansion between BG1 and BG2. He was incredibly cute about it and talked about how he declared his love for her for the first time. SHE was incredibly cute about it and talked about how lucky she was to have him. The item description was also incredibly cute and talked about how just wearing it revitalized her.

HNNNNGNNNGHHHH I NEED TO GO LIE DOWN.

*quiet wailing*

We can ask her about it further, too.

"About that amulet I found in your house..."

"Oh dear," she says, looking at him warily. "Should I brace myself for some fashion advice?"

She pauses, then sighs. "But I suppose you have earned better than glibness from me. It was a gift from my husband, Khalid."

He can hear the emotion that rockets through her with the single word. He is sure he sounds much the same when he speaks of Karlach.

"He was a Harper," she goes on. Her expression grows distant, lost in memory. "A better one than me, truth be told. Any idiot can swing a sword. But to believe in the cause, with the whole of your heart? A much trickier thing."

She draws a breath and lets it out shakily. "He died. Alone, in pain, and far too young. Murdered by a mage who craved immortality." A muscle works in her cheek. "I'll not grant it by naming him in the same breath as my husband."

[HISTORY] Recall what you know of Khalid.

Narrator: The quiet, unassuming shadow to Jaheira's strength, Khalid was another warrior who helped end the Bhaalspawn crisis. Shortly after, he was murdered by the mad mage Jon Irenicus.

Hector and Jaheira have spoken of this a little before. Jaheira first mentioned him in the context of Karlach's engine, and the impending similar loss that Hector faces himself. In that moment, and in this one, he felt and feels a sudden deep surge of connection with her, a terrible bond that steadies and reassures him even if he wishes neither of them had to bear it. He is not alone, and neither is she. He hopes his presence gives her similar solace.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly. "I hope I didn't bring up any bad memories."

She smiles weakly. "Nothing that wasn't already there, fear not," she says. "But I've lived many lifetimes since Khalid died. You, ah..." She trails off before the slight shiver in her voice can take root and blossom into tears. "You twine your life around the people you love. And when they are gone, you grow around their absence instead. It is just another way they shape you..."

She swallows, then goes on suddenly louder, faster-- "Which is my sage way of saying... I am in no danger of forgetting how my husband died. But I choose to remember how he lived."

(A/N: God, the writing in this game is gorgeous.)

Hector wonders, briefly, what Karlach thinks of this conversation, but he does not dare to look at her, or that same emotion will rise into his own throat and choke him. Instead, he focuses on Jaheira, listening intently. I choose to remember how he lived. "Tell me something about him no one else knows," he says, tone deliberately light.

She gives a slight laugh. "Most Harpers swagger and flash their feathers to catch your attention. Khalid was of a quieter sort," she says. "I have never known a warrior who would go so far out of his way to avoid a fight. Which meant the few he chose were usually the right ones." She pauses, and then laughs again, shakier this time. "And when we were married... on an upturned cart in the rainy Dalelands... he stammered so much, I've never been sure if our vows actually counted."

Hector smiles. "You seem an odd pairing," he says, gently teasing.

Her eyes narrow, taking on a sudden almost playful air. "The druid in me would like to say it was a thing of balance. The younger woman recalls rather more about a fine bottom-- and the habit not to speak unless he had something to say."

This comment is so unexpected that it startles a laugh out of Hector - and he's relieved to hear Karlach laughing too, behind him. Jaheira looks rather pleased with herself at the reaction.

"The songs make much of Khalid's meekness," she goes on after a little while, more seriously. "The quiet little Harper who had to keep a tight hold on his courage. But he had it when it counted. And more than that-- he had compassion. When you live a Harper's life, see all that a Harper sees, that is by far the harder thing to hold onto."

She looks down at the aquamarine pendant in her hands, then slips it around her neck. "But a bard can tell you all the rest," she says, turning away. "As for all the things they cannot... well. I shall just have to keep those for myself."

[blackjackkent]

Jaheira rubs a cloth from her pack slowly along the sleek blade of one of her scimitars and examines its edge with an appraising eye. For a little while she pretends to ignore the small shape creeping around the edge of the fire towards her, but eventually Boo is sitting almost at her knee and she gives the hamster a sidelong glance.

"What is it then, small one?" she says dryly, the pale green pulse of an animal speech spell flaring around her body.

Boo perches up on his back legs and peers up at her with that beady, unreadable stare. Jaheira looks back thoughtfully, raising one eyebrow.

She reflects, not for the first time, that for all that Minsc often seems mad, it is hard to ignore that there is something about the little beast that is more than bestial. The little dark eyes shine with intelligence, and he is the only creature she has ever attempted to speak to with aid of magic that has deliberately not deigned to speak back.

And it is no different today. Boo ignores the spell and simply squeaks once, loudly, then turns and looks back across the fire towards the bedrolls of the camp. Jaheira follows his gaze, and has to resist the urge to smile. Minsc is peering around the edge of one of the tents with an air of stealth that would be more appropriate if he were about half the size that he is.

She has not spoken to him since their argument when they first arrived back from the sewers, and though Boo offers no words, the message is clear. You have grieved him. Will you not clear the air?

"He does not need to hide," she tells Boo softly. "You may tell him so."

Boo squeaks again and scurries off into the shadows.

She returns to the care of her weapons and does not look up when she hears the Rashemaar's heavy footfalls at her side.

"May Minsc sit?" he rumbles.

She smiles slightly. "You feel you must ask permission?"

He drops down at her side and stares into the slowly dying flames. A silence stretches for a few moments before he says haltingly, "I still do not understand all of your anger, Jaheira. But if Minsc has given offense, then he shall not rest until the offense is eased." A pause. "Minsc has lost too many witches. He does not want to lose you."

Jaheira draws a slow breath, lets it out heavily. "You have not lost me, Minsc," she says quietly. "It was I who almost lost you." She frowns. "And I have also lost too much to suffer that lightly."

Minsc looks at her sideways. "But you will not be my Wychlaran," he says. It is not a question, just a flat, tired statement of fact.

She sighs. "Minsc... do you think I did not listen when you spoke to Dynaheir, to Aerie? It was a bond of trust, entered into willingly by both sides. You cannot claim me in such a bond without my knowledge." A pause. "If you wished a place at my side, you should have asked me. Not claimed space within me like a conqueror."

He considers that in silence. "Jaheira, as always, speaks more wisely than Minsc can even think," he agrees after a little while. His mouth draws into a tight line. Then, in a very low voice, he adds, "Minsc has been afraid."

At that, she does lift her head away from her attention on the blades and looks at him directly for the first time. She knows Minsc well enough to know that this is an admission he would make to no one else.

"So many things have changed, Jaheira. I do not remember my time as a stone, for to Minsc it passed like lightning, like a blink - something and then nothing, and then something again but with more itching. Itching and loneliness. Had I a witch she would have soothed both. But I had none... Dynaheir was dead many a long year, and Aerie so far away that Minsc might never see her again..."

She nods slowly. She still remembers the keen, biting emptiness in her chest in the days after Khalid's death - the knowledge that she had been hurt beyond measure and that the one who would have eased the pain was beyond her reach. "You had only me."

"Yes," he answers, and a little more energy comes back into his voice. "And it seemed to Minsc that you must be my new witch, for you were the only one I trusted so, and a Rashemaar without his witch is like Boo without a bit of grain - quite empty." A pause. "Minsc forgot that for Minsc to have a witch, the witch must also have Minsc."

Jaheira smiles slightly and reaches over to rest a hand lightly on his knee. "I will not call myself Wychlaran - but you have me at your side, no matter the name, Minsc," she says quietly. "I did not travel yet again through the Baldurian sewer muck simply to toss you away."

His shoulders relax a little and she can see the slight curve of his lips back into his more accustomed smile. "Good. Minsc is glad to hear it," he says quietly.

For a little while, they sit in companionable silence, watching as the flames slowly drift lower and lower. Boo crawls back out of the shadows, dragging a carrot from the camp supply sack larger than he is; settling between them, he begins to gnaw contentedly on his prize. Jaheira begins to feel some of the tension that has been her constant companion for so many months beginning to bleed away. So much danger still lies ahead... but her friend, at least, is safe again, and that makes such a tremendous difference. He is not one of those she has lost, not yet.

"So," Minsc says abruptly after a little while. "This new monk you travel with. Hector. Tell me of him."

Jaheira stirs, jarred loose from reverie, and has to take a moment to collect her thoughts enough to answer. "A good man, I think," she says slowly after a little while. "He has seen as much in a few months as we did in all our time in Amn, and still stands as straight as he did the day I met him."

Minsc nods. "Minsc sees Rasaad in him," he says gravely.

Jaheira says nothing for a moment. Then she nods. "He has much the same temperament. He says little and sees much. Even when we were closest, Rasaad often said little of what was in his heart, and I think Hector also holds much he does not reveal."

"And he is not quick to catch a joke," Minsc points out with a sudden broad grin. "He said to Minsc that the bond of a Wychlaran sounded only like friendship. At that Minsc laughed, for such a thing should be laughed at, and said that by such a thought, the whole camp is full of my Wychlarans! But the monk did not laugh in turn; Minsc is not sure he saw the jest."

Jaheira grins crookedly. "Perhaps he did not. Certainly that was also a failing in Rasaad at times; perhaps Selunites are not trained in the art of humor." A long pause. "But I like him, Minsc. He is brave in spite of great fear - and good reason for it. He loves fiercely, friend and lover alike. He kills doppelgangers with only his fists. And there are shades of Caden in him, too; I think he would be kind even though it killed him."

Minsc squares his shoulders stoutly. "Then Minsc and Boo shall see to it that it does not kill him, for they shall kick the butts of all by his side." Boo lifts his head, his cheeks fat with a great mouthful of carrot, and gives a muffled squeak.

Jaheira chuckles. "He is in good hands indeed, then."

"Hands and paws," Minsc amends with a wide grin.

"Of course," she says, and grins back. "How could I forget?"

[blackjackkent]

Shoutout to @ryssabrin for informing me that there is a UNIQUE KISS ANIMATION IN THIS AREA! And I'm so glad to know about it because I think this might be my second favorite Hector/Karlach kiss (after the one where they're both all smiley and happy and he kisses her nose, which is basically unbeatable).

Giffing the other kiss took me approximately a billion years and three billion files so we won't be doing that again; here's a video instead.

I love them so much, you guys. [sob]

[blackjackkent]

Karlach doesn't respond immediately when Hector calls her name. She's standing stock-still, staring out at the water, except for her shoulders which twitch as if with tears, or with some monstrous effort.

"We did it, soldier," she says softly. "The city's going to be all right." Her voice shakes, cracks painfully. "And so are you."

She turns towards him, meets his eyes steadily, her gaze full of equal parts love and pain. And he realizes what is happening only a millisecond before the flame bursts up around her.

She collapses to her knees with a cry of agony. The engine in her chest is making a terrible grinding whine, and winding tendrils of flame shoot around her body.

He remembers the night in camp so many months ago when the flames almost consumed her, how he struggled to calm her, how he felt the first moment of realization that he could lose her. But that was when they still had hope the engine could be fixed. There is no such hope now, only brutal implacable certainty. There are no words he can give her that will calm the inferno.

How much effort was it taking her, all day, just to ensure that she could hold on until the fight was done and they could say goodbye?

Gods, he thinks, and it is a prayer to which he expects no answer. No, no, no... no... please... I thought we might still have more time... The heavy weight of future grief that has sat with him for so many months becomes a lead ball in his chest.

Unthinking, he barrels towards her, falls on his knees in front of her. The heat is tremendous; sweat pours down his face, into his eyes, blinding him, mixing with the tears.

She forces her eyes open to meet his. "Engine's finally cooked," she whispers. "Held on just long enough."

She tries to smile-- in spite of everything she tries to smile, and gods, he loves her, he loves her so much and he feels like something clawed and monstrous is ripping at his heart. "So...?" she gets out shakily. "H- how'd I do?"

He feels choked with grief and love. He ignores the heat and the way it starts to blister his palms at once, and reaches out to cup her face in both hands, unwilling to spare even a moment's remaining touch. He is crying freely now, no sign of any of his control remaining. Before her he has no secrets left. "You were spectacular," he says, his voice thick. "In every way..."

She manages a strange, shaky laugh that catches and sticks in her throat. "For you..." she groans. She presses her hand against his cheek; he feels the heat sink into him and hisses a breath out between his teeth but doesn't pull away. "And for the city, and for myself, and blah, blah..." she says, and laughs again, just a tinge of hysteria in the sound. "But most of all, for you..."

For you... He clings unashamedly to her, struggling for any words that might articulate what he's feeling. It was always for you too... everything I learned, everything I became, every bit of bravery and hope and struggle, it was all for you, always, for how you made me see this city and this world and myself... gods, please, don't leave me...

Don't leave me alone...

There's another burst of heat around her; the shockwave intensity of it sends him back onto his heels. Her hand drops from his cheek and he feels the pain of the burn her palm left in his skin. "Careful," she chokes out. "Hot..."

She hunches over, her breath coming faster now, the animal panic struggling to overcome her remaining composure. "How'd I do?" she whispers, more to herself than to him. "Spectacular..." Another hoarse laugh. "It's the one thing I can't beat, isn't it. Same below as above..."

The surge eases; she tips her head towards his again, her eyes drifting closed. "I love... you..." she mutters fiercely.

Her eyes open again, fix on his; he sees the flame in her eyes and along her body start to take on the blue hue that rises when the emotion between them is particularly intense. "You. More than anything. I saw-- GODS!"

She screams, spasms with the rush of pain, and the agony on her face feels like a knife in his own chest.

She tries to lift her head again, and it takes more visible effort this time. The tears and sweat on her face rise in a burst of steam. "Goodbye, sun..." she whispers. "Goodbye, sea. Goodbye..."

He feels empty. Hollow. Unreal, as if he's watching the moment from a distance. He can't bear it; he wants to scream, to rage, to tear apart reality if it will keep her with him a little longer. But he can't move. He can only watch as the flame begins to consume her.

An unexpected voice breaks the moment from behind him.

"No. Stop. I won't allow this."

Wyll has moved up to Hector's side. His eyes are full of pain and sudden urgency. "Karlach," he says emphatically. "You're coming with me - back to Avernus." He turns his head, meeting Hector's eyes; Hector can barely see him through the haze of grief and tears. "We can't let her die," the Blade insists. "Not like this. Not now."

Hope stabs through him suddenly - hope, indomitable in spite of everything that stands against it. Hope he learned from her.

Karlach has always insisted that she cannot go back to the Hells, that it would be worse than death, and it has been so important to him that he honor that, so important that he hasn't even considered other options, not really. He would have been ready to go back to Avernus with her, if that was what she chose... he decided that before they even left the Shadowlands.

But it was never on the table, because she was convinced that Zariel would be on her in an instant, that she would be taken back into slavery in the devil's army, and she would rather die.

But the last time they talked about it was months ago. Surely... with how far he's come, and with Wyll going to the hells as well... surely between them they could see to it that Karlach remains free and lives...

And Wyll would not be alone in his new life as a hunter of devils, he would have friends at his side...

And perhaps one day Zariel would fall to their combined might, and Avernus be truly free of her cruelty...

Surely...

Surely death can't be better than that hope?

Karlach struggles to inhale a hoarse, sobbing breath. "You can't. You..."

He reaches out through the flame again, takes her hand, holds it tightly. "Enough, Karlach," he says softly. "The three of us will make a new life in Avernus... together..."

"So what do you say?" Wyll asks. "Die here, now, or live on with people who love you?" He crouches at Hector's side, reaches out a hand to her. "Zariel won't touch you. I swear it, Karlach."

Come with me, please... please... Hector thinks desperately. I will follow you into damnation if only you will lead me there. I will carry Selune's light into that burning place and be at peace. Just please... come with me...

If she denies it again, he will not fight it. He will stand here and watch while she lets the flames consume her. He will honor whatever she decides in this moment, however much it might kill him to do so.

But she doesn't fight it. Her eyes open-- and he sees his own hope reflected in her gaze. Maybe it is that she sees, as he does, that there are new possibilities now, with how powerful they have all grown and with the city once again safe behind them, or perhaps in this moment of truth she has simply realized that she is not ready to die.

But whatever it is... she agrees.

"All right. All right..." she gasps out hoarsely. "But we have to go. NOW. I can't hold on much longer."

If the grief and pain were tremendous, the relief that shoots through him now is so staggering that he feels dizzy. His heart clenches painfully and the tears do not stop, and he reaches out and takes her hand in both of his, pulling her to her feet.

"Thank the gods you've seen sense," Wyll says excitedly. Hector suspects he's almost as relieved to have friends coming at his side to Avernus as he is to see that Karlach will live - although Wyll is even more selfless than Hector himself, and Karlach's fate is the only thing top of mind for him at present. "Come! To Avernus we go. Our next adventure awaits."

Their goodbyes to the others are fumbled and hasty. They will find some other way to do it properly when Karlach is safe. There's only one thing on Hector's mind now - the portal in the Devil's Fee, the gold it will take to get Helsik to open a path... and the hope of calm on the other side.

He is no fool - what they are deciding to do in this moment is to abandon the hope of rest and celebration and go to a new war, almost at once. But he does not care. It is more than he ever dared to hope for.

He kisses her fiercely, ignoring the heat burning through her, and they all break into a run.

[blackjackkent]

So... I was already going to write something about Hector and Karlach, and Hector being forcibly reminded that Karlach would rather die free than go back to Avernus and live, and Karlach laughing it off in the dryad's vision, and Hector feeling like shit about it.

And then this happened when I went back to camp:

"Ngh. Soldier... my engine. It hurts... I think this might be it. Soon. Thing's burning hotter than I knew it could."

"But look - we've just about made it to the city. That'll do me. Let's go protect it. Whatever happens after that is between me and the so-called gods."

"You don't think we'll find you a cure?"

"With this heat going, I can't spare the energy to think. I just want to enjoy whatever's left of this life of mine. Anyway, it could be worse. I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be. With who I'm meant to be with. How many people can say that?"

-------

She laughs again, grins and shakes it off, and suddenly he can't take it anymore.

"Damn it, no!" he snaps. "Stop that! Stop laughing about it, as if it doesn't matter!"

She blinks, draws back a little, startled. Hector very rarely loses his temper; the last time she saw it was in the House of Healing against Malus's terrible cruelty. Not here, not in camp, where they're safe and they're together. "Soldier--"

"Don't 'Soldier' me." Hector's jaw works and then he looks away from her abruptly, staring down at the ground. "This isn't funny, Karlach. It isn't a joke. You heard what Dammon said. If we don't find a cure, you'll die."

Karlach's smile fades. "You think I don't know what death means, Hec?" she says more sharply. "I've seen way more of it than you have. I know what Dammon said, and I also know what I said. I'm not going back, not ever. Not even to save my life."

"I know. Believe me, I heard every word when you told me." Hector's lips draw into a tight line. "I'm not talking about that."

She hesitates, puzzled. "What are you talking about, then?"

"How am I supposed to feel, when you look at me, and say you're about to die, and laugh?" He looks up at her, his eyes burning with frustration and pain. "Do you expect me to laugh too? Do you expect me to pretend like it makes no difference?"

She frowns. "No, I--"

"Because I can't," he continues hoarsely. "I can't laugh. I can't shake it off the way you can. I..." He pauses, rubs a hand down his face, desperately trying to regain his habitual control, but it feels completely lost to him right now.

"I will never, not once, tell you what decision you need to make. This is your choice. Your life. I wouldn't take that away from you." He shakes his head. "I respect you too much for that. It's your body and your soul, your free will and your choice. But I need you to respect me too, enough to believe that what you choose affects me too."

He feels his voice crack, and dashes his hand in frustration and shame against his eyes, feeling dampness in them. "I love you," he whispers, clenching his fists at his side in the struggle for control. "I love you, Karlach... so much, so deeply... I didn't know feelings like this existed in the world until I met you. I was taught to be self-reliant, to need no one's reassurance, to keep my heart wrapped up in books and faith and dust, but then I found you, and there's no going back to that. I'm lost in you." He hesitates. "As... as I hope you're lost in me."

He can see her expression twisting with emotion but he doesn't give her time to speak. It's all coming out now, everything he usually doesn't have the words - or the bravery - to articulate. "I'm not trying to change your mind. I've learned so much from you, from everything we've experienced out here - and one of the things I've learned is that there are things more important than living or dying. That there are things worth dying for. If this is yours... I won't stand in the way."

He swallows. "But I need you to understand that... I don't know what I will do without you. And when you laugh, when you act as if it doesn't matter that you will be gone... it tears my heart out."

Silence. He's run out of words and stares at the ground in front of her feet, his shoulders tight with the effort of keeping his voice steady.

When she finally answers, her voice is softer. "Dammit, I'm... I'm sorry, Hec. I really am. This, how I am..." She gestures vaguely at her own chest. "In Avernus, it was the only way to stay sane. You had to laugh about it all, or you'd go mental." She snorts bitterly. "I told you, that's the only reason I hung around with Flo. She was a bastard, just a complete motherfucker... but she made me laugh. And I couldn't make it otherwise. It would've crushed me."

She pauses for a moment and then goes on. "I don't want to die, Hec. I really don't. I never had the chance to live like this, loving someone, loving you, and doing good work, and feeling like I mean something. And I don't want to hurt you. Gods... that's the last thing I want."

She reaches out cautiously, takes his hand. He draws a sharp breath, although his shoulders instinctively relax, feeling the familiar pulse of her heat against his skin.

"I love you too, Hec," she says quietly. "You're not the only one who never thought life could feel like this."

He lets the held-in breath out shakily and grips her hand like a lifeline in a storm. "I'm scared, Karlach," he admits in a whisper. "I don't know if I can do this alone."

"You won't be alone." She smiles slightly. "We've got a pretty good group going here, now. And you're way stronger than you think. I've seen it." She hesitates. "Proud of you, y'know."

He closes his eyes and swallows desperately against the lump in his throat. "Thank you," he says softly. A pause. "I'm proud of you too, you know," he adds after a little while. "For standing by what's important to you. I want you to know that, no matter what else happens."

Her fingers tighten around his fiercely. "And I won't laugh about it, not anymore," she adds with a slight nod. "Didn't think about how it sounded to you. I won't make that mistake again."

He nods, musters a slight smile as he looks up at her. "Thank you. That's all I ask."

She steps forward, wraps her arms around him tightly, and he sags forward into her, burying his face into her neck. It's a great irony, he reflects, that the same heat which is going to kill her makes him feel so warm and comfortable in her arms.

His eyes squeeze shut against her and he lets out a single gasped breath, almost a sob. But only the one. Then he has control again, and all he does is lean into her and hold on as if his grip might somehow prevent her from ever slipping away from him.

And though he will not say it aloud, inwardly he prays for some miracle, some way out of the darkness that sits in his future when she is gone. Because he truly does not know how he will bear it.

[blackjackkent]

random thought, feel free to ignore- but i wonder, considering the similarity in location, if the "selunite enclave outside the city" aylin and isobel mentioned would be hector's monastery in this worldstate?

HOLY SHIT. \o/

Hang on, I need to drop everything and roll with this idea because I love it. You just made my whole evening.

------

"Father Enric!"

The young acolyte is breathing hard as he comes to a stop inside the small chapel on the north end of Silverlight Monastery.

Enric, startled from his prayers, looks up with a raised eyebrow, then slowly, painfully shifts himself to his feet. (Age is telling on him, after all these years, despite all the training and discipline to which he has devoted his life.) "Calm yourself, Jakob," he says gently, keeping his voice deliberately calm in the face of the younger man's agitation. "Speak softly and without heat. What is it?"

In truth, he can guess. Another sally by the Absolutists - that terrible cult that has risen from the south. They have made three attacks against the monastery thus far, and the walls have held against their arrows and battering rams-- but not without damage, and not without casualty to the monks and clerics within.

The last attack was only three days ago, he thinks bleakly. We are not ready for another so soon.

But Jakob's news surprises him - it is not that at all.

"Two visitors on the road, Father Abbot, sir," the boy says. He is trying to maintain his composure but failing-- there is fear in his expression, and also a sort of perplexed excitement. "They come alone, but armed. One of them is an aasimar, father, and Brother Lloyd on the wall says that where the moonlight touched her, she glowed like a beacon!"

Enric's eyes widen. He reaches out to put a hand on Jakob's shoulder. "See that they are brought to my office at once. And wake someone in the kitchens."

-----

An hour or so later, there is a soft knock at his office door.

"Come in." He turns from where he is standing by the window, and finds himself meeting the eyes of a woman some three or four inches taller than he himself.

She puts an arm across her chest, bows respectfully. "In the name of the Lady we both serve, I greet you, Father Abbot," she says gravely.

Her eyes are so pale as to be almost white, and her skin to match, shot through with lines of gold like a piece of mended pottery. The wings at her back would likely stretch the width of the small office if she extended them, but one is furled at her back and the other wrapped around the shoulders of a smaller and rather exhausted-looking human woman, who is leaned up against the aasimar's side as if huddled against a tree in a storm.

"And I you," Enric answers, inclining his head politely. "You are--" He hesitates. "I hope you will forgive the presumption, but I hope my guess is correct. Are you the Dame Aylin that once walked these lands as our lady's right hand?"

She smiles slowly. "I am. It may be told by the moonlight upon my sword and the righteous fire within my heart."

Enric allows himself the briefest flash of pride at the monastery's record-keeping; even to the armor she wears, she looks exactly as the histories describe her. But that pride is almost lost in a much greater wave of emotion that is pure awe, for Dame Aylin (those same histories say) is the daughter of Selune herself. She has not been seen in the flesh for over a century. The last records of her are in letters from Moonrise before that cursed place fell to darkness.

"You honor us with your presence at Silverlight," he says. He starts to kneel, but she shakes her head impatiently, reaches out and takes him by the arm.

"We have come to aid your fight," she says briskly. "For we have seen the darkness of the Absolute face to face, and know the struggle that has set upon you these many weeks. My darling Isobel and I shall be the sword and shield of my mother on your behalf."

The human at Aylin's side -- Isobel? -- smiles wearily. "After a night's rest, I should hope," she murmurs, then adds to Enric, "We have come many leagues in a short time, that we might be of service to you."

Enric's practiced self-control is serving him well here -- but only with difficulty. The urge to simply gape in astonishment at the two new arrivals is considerable. "To stand at your side against this evil is a blessing none of us would have dreamed of," he says softly. "We would gladly accept, and offer you in return all that is ours in sustenance and shelter."

Aylin looks pleased. "A bargain it is, then," she says. Lifting one eyebrow, she studies Enric thoughtfully for a moment. "I see shades of him in you, most certainly - the shades which would have been passed by a lifetime's teaching. I am sure you are the man Hector has often spoken of. Enric of Trielta."

Enric is so startled that for a moment his self-control slips utterly. And though some of the surprise is at hearing this divine creature utter his name, more is for the source she mentions for her knowledge.

"Hector?" he asks. His eyebrows lift in sudden urgent question. "Forgive me-- do you speak of Hector Carlisle?"

Twin smiles flash onto the faces of both women at the name. "She does indeed," Isobel says.

"Hector is alive?" Even Enric himself is a little surprised at the rush of joy that goes through him at the news. "We all thought-- when the attack came upon the city, that terrible ship... we thought he must be dead. He was only in the market long enough to purchase supplies, but he never came back..."

"I can assure you," Aylin says, "Hector has not only climbed from the pit of that ship but triumphed over forces the likes of which we may all fervently hope you can never comprehend. You should be deeply proud to call him brother."

"As I am, and have been, and will be. Moonmaiden be praised... you are truly a bearer of all the best of news."

A flash of something that might be humor goes through the aasimar's eyes. "Should you expect anything else of Dame Aylin?" she says, raising one eyebrow.

"I--" He blinks, stammering uncertainly.

"My love jests," Isobel says, a little dryly. "It is hard to tell sometimes, I know."

Aylin makes a soft snorting noise but does not dispute the statement.

"But what she says of Hector is true," the human goes on. "He saved us both from a deep darkness at Moonrise Towers, after a century of loss, and has gone on to the city to face down the heart of the Absolute. I will not tell you his story while he still remains to perhaps one day tell you himself... but I will say that he speaks of you, of this place, every day-- with loyalty and gratitude."

She hesitates, then adds delicately, "You may, I suspect, not quite recognize him as the man who left, when he returns again."

That is a sobering thought, and Enric has to pause to consider it for a while before answering. "If he has faced the darkness so closely as you say, it would be foolish of me to expect it," he says finally. "But I cannot express how much it gladdens me to hear that he lives. He has been greatly missed, these last months."

He gestures to the chairs in front of his desk. "Please. Sit. I will have food and drink brought, and I hope you will tell me more of what you have seen, and what still lies ahead to do."

[blackjackkent]

And there we go - after (checks) almost exactly five months of intense liveblogging, Hector Carlisle's story in Faerun comes to a close - for now at least.

I already said this to some degree in my answer to that ask earlier, but thank you to everyone who has followed along on my writing about this game and Hector specifically. I've liveblogged a number of games over the years but this is the first that really got any sort of more public response, and I am so grateful to those of you who have followed my boy's story, showed interest, left likes, asked questions. And I have remembered how to be really excited about creating and storytelling and character writing for the first time in a very long time and I'm desperately grateful to have it back for however long it stays.

Also a tremendous and personal thanks to @springagainafter, who got me into BG1 and BG2 long before I knew how important this game/series was going to become to me and was a huge cheerleader for my similar liveblog passes through the earlier games. <3 And to @zenjestrr who has been my technical consultant (read: optimization goblin ;) ) through Hector's run and taught me a ton about the game that I wouldn't have known otherwise. And @writer86 who has listened to quite a bit of rambling about all of this and helped add a lot of detail to Hector's existence with our AU RP chats. :D

I will definitely be continuing fic writing about Hector and Karlach and their friends (particularly some Avernus adventures I hope, and I am always open to requests). And as I've mentioned already, I plan to start a Durge run in a similar livebloggy vein probably tomorrow (because I am still deep in the hyperfixation zone XD ).

TY to all of y'all. As that comic I saw a few days ago said, "Let's all keep telling each other stories until the world ends."

[blackjackkent]

OK, time for another boss battle report, Cazador Szarr edition. This one got pretty elaborate. XD

Opening state of play:

Enemy list is Cazador plus two ghasts (labeled "Fallen Gur Hunter," upsettingly), four werewolves, a skeleton named "Chatterteeth," and six bats. The bats have one hit point each but I'm making no assumptions at this point.

Cazador starts out with seven stacks of a buff called "Ritual Sources" - corresponding to the seven spawn currently being held in magical fields around the arena - which gives him 70 temp HP, 7m extra movement speed, and extra necrotic damage. He also gets an individual unique buff for three of the spawn (For "Yousen", he gets an extra 2-16 hitpoint regain every turn, for "Violet" he gets a +5 to AC, and for Astarion himself, he gets an extra bonus action.)

All of this also means we are shorthanded by one person because Astarion is currently being used as a power socket. (On the bright side, despite the cutscene, he still has all his armor and stuff on, so maybe we can get him back into the fight and let him get the killing blow.)

Cazador can apparently use Call Lightning for ten turns without using a spell slot, with which he immediately beats the shit out of Jaheira on his first turn.

He can turn into vampire mist and run around the arena which makes him immune to non-magical damage. "This status is removed by sunlight," says the description of the form. Well, this at least is good news, because guess what Jaheira has:

The spawns themselves all have a "sacrificial lamb" condition which states: "If Cazador draws power from all the spawns bound this way three times, he will ascend." So we're on something of a time limit.

By the way Cazador has 270 hit points, including the 70 temp HP he's getting from the spawns. O.O;

We do get a bit of a hint to kick things off.

"Those runes," Karlach says. "Cazzy's using them to suck the power right out of those poor fuckers."

"If we can reach the glowing sigils, maybe we can redirect that power from him to us," says Hector.

First of all, I love that Karlach calls him "Cazzy". Second, I can't imagine Hector is much more thrilled about taking that power for himself, even temporarily, than he is about Cazador getting it, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

I think our top priority here is as follows:

a) Get everyone onto one of those sigils (ideally Astarion's? maybe we can get him back into the fight?) to start disrupting Cazador's power sources. b) Get Daylight cast on as much of the arena as possible. c) ????? we'll figure it out from there.

Let's go.

-----

Combat report:

Getting Karlach onto one of the sigils on her first turn passed one of the "Ritual Sources" buffs from Cazador onto her, so that seems like a good start. The problem here, though, is that stepping back OFF the sigil immediately gives the buff back to Cazador. So the utility here seems a bit limited since most of our squad is kinda up close and personal.

Not entirely clear on whether I am supposed to be trying to kill the non-Astarion spawn, although that does seem like it would certainly remove the buff more permanently. They're basically resistant to everything so it doesn't seem like a GREAT use of our time, but options feel really limited.

The ghasts are surprisingly annoying as they all run straight at Hector and cast Stench to make him nauseous, meaning he can't take actions. He's so powerful tho that he kills one of the werewolves with bonus actions alone.

Karlach meanwhile gets surrounded by all five bats and bit a whole bunch and Jaheira gets downed by the second round of Call Lightning. This is off to a great start.

The one spore zombie that was still following Jaheira around from the fight earlier misses every single one of its attacks in this fight, bless its heart.

Hector manages to take out all the ghasts by turn three but is now the only good guy conscious on the field as Karlach has gotten bitten into unconsciousness. More bats have spawned at the start of the round. Cazador has managed to avoid starting his turn in the Daylight spell repeatedly so he has not yet taken any damage from it yet. All the bats have now come over to surround Hector instead. This is going terribly.

DISCOVERY: When Jaheira's spore zombie kills something (in this case, a bat) it turns into a new friendly spore zombie! That's nice! Everything else, however, is terrible.

At this point, Cazador ascends. All of the spawns, including Astarion, explode into a giant pile of wet meat. Astarion's personal quest is marked complete. I sigh, very heavily, and reload. Yeesh.

Attempt 2!

I feel like there's a trick here that I'm missing, but the second pass does start off much more optimistically; Hector and Karlach are able to take out all three ghouls immediately and Jaheira gets Daylight up again.

Once again Jaheira gets wrecked at the top of the second round when Cazador gets his next turn. She really is squishy as fuck and I am not sure why I suck so badly at playing her. :( I love you, Jaheira, I'm sorry I keep getting you killed.

Eventually I got frustrated and sent Hector over to just whale on Cazador, and he's such a battering ram that he did manage to get him all the way down to 100HP. However, it was on turn 3 and so Cazador promptly got up afterwards and turned everyone into marinara sauce.

Realistically, Hector and Karlach are powerful enough between them that I'm pretty sure we can cheese this fight but just going straight to Cazador on turn 1 and beating the shit out of him; however, I would kind of like to figure out how to do this fight the "correct" way. Reload.

Attempt 3!

New strategy - what if we ignore all the enemies and just run all three of us onto three of the sigils immediately? (Specifically, the three sigils for the spawn that are giving him extra buffs. Unfortunately, they're of course the ones furthest away from us but we have dash actions for a reason.)

With this in mind, backing up an extra save and doing some pre-work. Jaheira gets the Misty Step amulet back, ritually casts Longstrider on everyone which will give them extra movement speed until long rest, and precasts Conjure Elemental, Conjure Woodland Being to get more bodies on the field, and Heroes Feast too, why not (immunity to the Stench poison for one thing), then casts Protection from Energy on herself to help offset the fucking Call Lightning that's wrecking us right out of the gate.

While I'm doing this, @ryssabrin comes in clutch with some advice in the replies in my previous post, pointing out that we can use the Help action on Astarion to pull him out of the ritual and back into the fight. "cazador will focus fire on him but he won't do the ritual." This is HUGE because that three-turn limit was what was really fucking things up.

So that's our new priority. Jaheira and Karlach go to stand on two of the sigils, and Hector books it towards Astarion to free him. Ryssabrin also pointed out the utility of Sanctuary in this case - presumably to put on Astarion if Cazzy is gonna focus fire him - so I have Hector load that up too, and cast Protection from Evil and Good on himself.

Heroes Feast is fun. It also gives us a big hamper of camp supplies in addition to all the buffs. Please fill in your own joke:

Mad prep, let's go:

OK let's give this another try. I'm not scared, what are you talking about.

In addition to all the buffs, we also luck out here somewhat in that on this run, all three of the team get top initiative (second only to Cazador himself). Jaheira's concentration on Protection from Energy gets broken INSTANTLY but she does take less damage than she did previously.

Jaheira misty steps onto Yousen's sigil, stealing Cazador's per-turn heal and one of his ritual stacks (and casts Daylight). Karlach goes to Violet's sigil and steals Cazador's extra AC and another ritual stack (and rages for extra DR). Hector as planned beelines straight for Astarion, Help-actions him into the fight, casts Sanctuary on him, and barrels towards one of the other sigils. Cazador is now down to four buff stacks and no special buffs, and cannot ascend. QUICKSAVE.

"YOU ARE GOING TO SUFFER FOR EVERYTHING YOU DID TO ME!" Astarion bellows, and then I have him stand absolutely still and not do anything, because he can't be targeted by attacks in Sanctuary but only while he doesn't attack anything. I like to think he is debuffing Cazador with the pure power of his ANGRY GLARE, though.

Jaheira once again gets fucking trounced immediately but at least her unconscious body is on top of the sigil so it's still debuffing Cazador.

Round 2 - Cazador's out of mist form and I could keep Hector on the sigil removing the extra stack from him - but realistically the dangerous ones were the two that Jaheira and Karlach are on. Hector is best served barreling straight at Cazador and battering ram smacking the shit out of him. So that is what he does. For a total of [does quick math] 183 DAMAGE! :D Cazador lost Call Lightning concentration too. Big moves from Team Juggernaut and this is all looking much more manageable. (For insult to injury he still had enough movement left to go and stand on the nearby sigil again too. XD )

Karlach hurled two separate health potions at Jaheira, using up both of her actions, and neither of them did anything useful for some reason. Very annoying. So now I just sit here while the 513451345 enemies on the field take their turns and hope for the best.

Time for some roleplay choices. Cazador is down to 65 HP and still prone, which means Astarion can get a sneak atack on him. So I make the executive decision to SCREW SANCTUARY because Astarion needs this killing blow.

Jaheira dies. Again. And, again, from a story perspective, we are pretending this didn't happen. XD

Round 3 - Cazador once again mists up, so I spend Hector and Karlach's turns taking out some of the adds. Astarion tries to take a stab at the mist form just to see if it works. It doesn't.

Round 4 - Hector flattens Cazador down to 13HP and positions himself to give Astarion sneak attack. Karlach stares menacingly at everyone...

And Astarion gets the killing blow.

And then we killed the 113451324 bats that had spawned during this whole process. Victory!

[blackjackkent]

Camp scene with Lae'zel was sweet enough as far as it goes:

"It is not in a githyanki's nature to say 'thank you'. Our language doesn't even have a phrase for it. Chraith'kan zharn is the closest equivalent I know - 'May your enemies know agony.' But after releasing me from Orin's grip, there is only one proper response: Thank you. Sincerely."

"You're welcome."

"Ah, hm. Well. Good then. Let's carry on."

It was kind of cute - she approved and got a little bit flustered and awkward about it. But - realistically, the game can't offer me an actual scene that matches my specific Hector headcanons.

And I think there's a far more interesting way this reunion could play out. >:)

-----

There's a flicker of some magic dispelled as Hector unlocks the chains binding her to the altar; in a flash, Lae'zel's eyes are open and she is up off the stone, rocketing backwards away from him and the others. Gauging the situation in a quick sweep of her eyes, she comes up with a sword off the body of one of the dead cultists and has it up in both hands, warding off an attack that does not come.

Hector goes utterly still, both hands spread at his sides.

Silence. She stares at him with a baffled, hunted look; the point of the sword trembles minutely, then steadies as she redoubles her grip. "Hector?" she rasps.

He nods slowly. "It's me. It's all right--"

Even barely conscious, she moves like lightning - a sudden dart forward this time. He's weakened from the fight with Orin and not expecting the blow, which cuffs the hilt of the sword across his jaw with an impact that makes his ears ring. Her free hand grabs him by the collar and pulls him in a throw he's almost certain she learned from watching him fight; the momentum flips him up and over her hip and lands him in her place on the altar.

She kneels over him, the blade at his throat, her eyes full of blind rage and tortured pain.

"Is it not enough?" she snarls. "Is it not enough that you have tormented me, all these days, that you now appear before me wearing his face? Do you think me such a fool?" The cold metal presses over his jugular. "It is you who are foolish, Orin, to open my chains and think I would stay my hand on a mere pretense."

"Stop--" he hears Karlach shout.

"Stay back, doppelganger," Lae'zel barks without looking up. "One further step and I shall sever your queen's head from her body." She leans forward; Hector can feel the heat of her breath on his cheek as she hisses in his face.

"Cease your blaspheming of my friend's image, shka'keth. I would see your true eyes before I open your throat."

"Lae'zel--" he gasps out. "It's me! Orin's dead! It's me-- I promise you--"

She freezes. Her head draws back; the pressure of the blade eases just slightly. "So many days I have waited," she mutters. "I swore to myself I would not be weak when the moment came..."

"It's me." Hector's eyes flick wildly around the room as he grasps for some way to prove it. "You-- we met on the nautiloid. You thought I was a thrall. We escaped, we crashed... we found you in a cage with the tieflings... Shadowheart didn't let you forget it for weeks..." His breath catches on a slight, hysterical laugh without any humor. "The creche... you took me there, we saw through Vlaakith's lies together... we traveled in the shadows and you told me of the light of the Astral Sea..."

He feels, to his shame, that his voice is starting to shake, to crack-- the battle exhausted all his control and he barely has the strength to think, and seeing her staring at him with such fury, after all he has done to try and reach her, feels like a last brutal blow struck by Orin from beyond the veil.

"Ch'mar zal'a Orpheus," he mutters shakily, parroting the words he has heard her mutter in camp. "You opened your mind to me when you made your choice to turn away from Vlaakith... you trusted me then, please trust me now..."

She draws a sharp breath in; her eyes narrow. His words are breaking through the haze, bit by bit, a little of the mad rage starting to fade. Her head jerks and he feels the familiar prod of the tadpole connection in his mind, his parasite squirming in answer to hers. For the first time he can recall, he is desperately grateful for that connection, for the proof it offers.

Images begin to flash between them, a thousand upon a thousand memories of their shared struggle. He groans, his eyes rolling back in his head. "You almost broke my jaw, that night in camp, and said perhaps our pain would bleed out of our wounds..." he whispers. "It hasn't yet, but I have hope... put the blade down, Lae'zel, please... it's me..."

She draws back. The sword slips from her fingers, clattering onto the stone next to the altar.

"Kaincha..." she mutters. "You speak truth..."

He sits up slowly, rubbing involuntarily at his neck where the blade pressed. "Have I ever lied to you?" he asks softly.

Her shoulders are rigid, her whole body taut, and he can see that every bit of her strength is going into preventing her from trembling. "She came in so many faces. Every one familiar. Every one a mockery. I came to doubt my own eyes..."

"It's all right," he answers gently. "It's done with now."

He's dimly aware that Karlach has come up next to him, that one of her hands is resting on his shoulder, that she is bent forward on the balls of her feet in a protective aspect, ready to strike should Lae'zel show any further sign of violence. But the fight has gone out of the githyanki warrior now; with the moment of adrenaline gone, she looks beaten and exhausted. Ashamed.

He considers a moment, then deliberately pitches his voice a little slower - a sharper snap, like those he heard from the githyanki at Y'llek.

"The way out is clear," he tells her firmly. "Go back to camp. Rest. We'll talk when I return."

She blinks - and he sees a flash of something like relief through her eyes at having an order to follow. "Yes," she agrees with a crisp nod, standing at once. "I will wait there." She turns, looks around the bloody atrium as if fully registering it for the first time.

A slight pause, and then she adds, "I should offer my gratitude. But there are no words with which I was trained to express it. You came through fire for me, and I answered you with a blade."

"Thank you is enough," Hector says; a slight smile tugs at his lips.

She snorts softly. "Hm. Thank you, then," she mutters. "It is... insufficient, as is much in your barbaric tongue. But it will do for now."

Without another word, she stalks up the gore-slicked stairs towards the sewers.

They all watch her go, and then Hector groans softly and lets himself fall back to lie on the altar again, staring up at the vaulted ceiling. Karlach's face drifts into view as she leans over him.

"Same old Lae'zel, eh?" she says dryly. "Gods, I'd give her a thrashing for threatening you like that, if I wasn't so glad to see her."

"She was afraid," Hector says absently. "And I don't blame her for it."

Jaheira sits down on the edge of the altar with a weary sigh. "There are none of us, I think, who have not done something foolish in the name of fear." A smile flickers across her face. "That said, had she injured you, we would have made her feel it."

He shakes his head. "It's all right," he says firmly. "The Chosen are dead, finally, and we've stood against all their machinations; the last thing we need is to start tearing ourselves apart now. She's back with us. That's enough."

[blackjackkent]

In-game, Hector got the killing blow, but realistically, story-wise... we give it to Karlach. :D

This scene is so brutally, heart-obliteratingly sad that I don't know if I did it any justice. But I tried. There's a video at the bottom.

--------

She stands over him, covered in his blood. Enver Gortash, erstwhile usurping Archduke of Baldur's Gate, lies sprawled on the marble floor where he fell when Hector kicked his legs from under him, and his face is convulsed in a rictus of agony. Karlach's blade has gone through his throat, pinning him to the stone. A puddle of crimson spreads slowly out from his body.

For a long time, no one says anything. The room is silent as a tomb except for harsh breathing and the soft sizzling sound of Jaheira's wildshape melting off her. Even Minsc is silent - though Hector can see, out of the corner of his eye, what it is costing him not to leap towards the ceiling in a victory cry. Even Minsc, oblivious as he often seems to nuance, knows this moment has not yet run its course.

Karlach stares down into the dead man's eyes, leans on the hilt of her sword. "So..." she says hoarsely. "Gortash is nothing more than a pile of flesh, same as the rest of us."

Hector slowly, methodically wipes the blood from his knuckles and watches her in silence. He knows every line of her face, every subtlety of her voice; he can see the storm of emotion working behind her eyes, too complex to name. He doesn't speak, but shifts himself slightly so he is standing next to her - at her elbow and slightly behind, within easy reach for when she wants him, but not intruding.

You can sense she's working something out; say nothing.

(A/N: I love this as an option so FUCKING much for Hector; thank you, game.)

"I feel like there should be a sunset to ride off into," she goes on after a little while, a low mutter. "Or an orchestral swell... or *something*." She turns slightly to meet Hector's eyes, and the bitter grief in her expression strikes him like a blow to the stomach.

"But there's nothing, is there?" Her voice is louder now. "I killed the bastard who ruined my life, and my prize is that I get to crawl into a corner and die." Louder still now, a roar of pain and anguish. She rips the sword from the dead man's throat, sending a splatter of blood across them both. "Am I FUCKING missing something?!"

She screams it at him, and he has no answer. Hearing her in such pain is like a physical thing in his chest, ripping at his heart, but he has no answer to give. The whole situation is agonizingly, brutally unfair and her rage is the only reasonable response to it.

He wishes he could take her in his arms, hold her and soothe her as she has held and soothed him through so many nightmarish moments, and somehow make it all go away, all the pain she's gone through and the terrible fate lying ahead.

But he can't. All he can do is listen; if it brings her any peace to expend her rage at him and the dead body in front of them, who is he to deny it?

But gods, it hurts him to hear her hurting.

Say nothing.

"I can't do it anymore," she snaps. Spinning, she slams her gauntleted fist into the wall; the shrieking clang of metal on stone makes Hector's ears ring. "Ten years, man! It's enough. It's ENOUGH!"

She catches her breath in a short harsh gasp, stares down at Gortash's body again, and then lashes out with a sharp kick at his skull. "He's dead!" she snarls, like a wounded animal. "And he's no *fucking* sorrier than he was before."

She rounds on Hector, her eyes wide, demanding an answer now. "What was the point?" she cries out. "I'm still dying!" The reality of it seems to sink through her even as she says the words; the deep red of her skin pales and she sways a little on her feet. "I'm dying," she repeats, a desperate wail of despair. "I'm going to die!"

He swallows, holds himself still with a force of will that is painful. Every time she says that, every time she reminds him of it, all he wants to do is sink to his knees and weep, but he can't... he can't. He has to be strong for her, as she has been for him.

But what can he possibly say, what can he possibly do that would make any of this all right? He can't say they will fix it, because she'll know it's a lie. He can't say she can go back to Avernus, because she'll know it's a dismissal of everything that's most important to her, and he won't do that to her. But what else can he say?

"But you're not dead yet," he says haltingly, forcing himself to hold her gaze, not to look away or try to hide from the moment even though he desperately wants to. "I'm here with you. And I will be until the very end."

He hesitates, reaches out a hand cautiously towards her arm, but she flinches away.

"Don't say that!" she snaps. "Say you found some way to fix me! That now Gortash is dead, I'll get my heart back."

Her voice cracks, and in that breaking he hears the shattering of a hope that was still lurking in her, so deep she didn't even acknowledge it to herself, let alone to him - the feeling that somehow if Gortash died it would make everything better, that some solution heretofore unseen would present itself.

But Gortash is dead. And nothing else has changed.

She sags, her shoulders slumping, and closes her eyes. "My heart..." she whispers brokenly. "It was mine... and they TOOK it!" He can see the effort with which she is trying to hold onto her emotions, but it's a vain attempt; her voice begins to rise again, into a strident scream of desperation and misery.

"I'm going to be as dead as Gortash any day now. Any *moment*. And what then? Off to the City of Judgment to waste into oblivion? Into the dirt to get eaten by maggots? Is that it for me?! IS THAT FUCKING ALL?!"

The flames rise again, bursting across her skin, consuming without destroying, all the rage and pain manifesting itself in the coruscating eruption from within, from the engine that is killing her.

"And you!" She roars it in his face and the words are like a curse, like a slap. "You'll just keep going, won't you?! Watching the stars. Warming your hands on the campfire. Dancing, eating, making fucking love all night - all of it, all of it!"

He flinches. He knows she doesn't mean it, that she is lashing out at anyone within striking distance, and yet the blow still strikes home as if she's cut out his heart. No, my love. No, when you die I will be a shell of who I was before; there will be no one and nothing else...

On some level she must know that she's cut him to the quick, but she is too far gone to rein anything in right now. The flames are turning to an inferno again, a raging ball of heat causing the very air to boil around her; he can feel the skin on his forehead and cheeks pulling, but he refuses to step back, to look away.

"That's my reward for everything I've suffered!" she roars in his face. "That's why I survived TEN YEARS of torment! The fighting, the clawing, the loneliness-- the *fucking* loneliness-- all of it, so I could ROT! Because the person I trusted the most gave me away to the devil!"

He can't bear it anymore, the pure pain and screaming rage in her voice, in her eyes. Without hesitation, without even thought, he raises his hands and reaches out towards her; as he moves, the pale gold light of all the protection magic he knows rolls up and over his body and he hurls himself into the flame, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her savagely against him.

It's a risk-- perhaps nothing will calm her and the heat will simply consume them both...

But his guess - his instinct - holds; at his touch, his embrace, she flinches, and for a moment the heat burns through the magic and he feels a wave of searing agony... and then less...

The flames start to calm, and her whole weight, armor and all, sags into him, and he staggers with the effort of holding her up. The inferno fades, replaced by the heavy thundering pulses of heat that are her usual heartbeat at twice its usual pace. Her face presses into his shoulder and she sobs bitterly, brokenly, muffled by the cloth of his tunic.(*)

"It isn't fair... I don't want it like this..."

He steadies himself, finding balance with her weight, and presses his face against the top of her head, the fingers of one hand burying themselves in her hair. Blue light mixes with the gold as healing magic pulses from his palms. He wishes it could heal more than the burns, that it could do anything to soothe the ache in their souls.

But in a terrible way... it is good to hear her cry. So many months she has known she is dying and he has never seen her break down. Even he-- notoriously and often unhealthily self-controlled-- has broken down in her arms more than she has broken down in his.

"Let it out," he whispers. His voice trembles and for once he doesn't bother to try and stop it. "It's about time..."

"I don't want to die..." The words are broken and clipped off by frantic, staccato gulps of air between sobs. "I want to live. I want to *stay*..."

Her fingers fist into the back of his shirt, pulling him tighter to her. Her voice drops to a shattered, hollow whisper, pleading for some answer that isn't there. "What the fuck am I supposed to do now...?"

He has no answer. He asks himself the same question, many nights lying awake beside her, watching her sleep and wondering how in all the hells he will manage when she is gone...

He has told himself, so many times, that he will not demand that she make her decisions for his sake, and yet it is still so hard not to throw himself on the floor at her feet, beg her to travel with him into Avernus, to save his heart at the cost of her principles.

But he will not. He will not. He respects her too much, loves her too much...

"That's... for you to decide..." he says unsteadily.

With a sudden harsh jerk, she pulls away from him, steps back; her face twists with bitter regret. " I ought to just end it all now," she mutters, looking away from him, examining a long crack in one of the stones in the wall. "On my terms."

A long silence. Hector's arms fall back to his sides and he watches her, not bothering to hide the anguish on his face now.

She lets the silence stretch, then shakes her head and laughs harshly. "But then who'd save this godforsaken town?"

She reaches out and runs her fingers along the crack and lets out a heavy breath. "Let's get out of here," she says, her voice suddenly curt and sardonic, the pain shoved back into hiding again. "I've always hated this place. Stupid fucking gigantic bridge or whatever. I... think I need to go to camp for a while. Be alone. Scream at the sky." A slight pause. Her tone softens almost imperceptibly. "You can... come and find me later, if you want to."

With visible effort, she turns and meets his eyes again. After studying him for a moment, she lifts a hand and presses her palm against his cheek. "Thanks for listening." The ghost of a smile, here and gone in an instant. "For existing." A pause; she swallows tightly. "Love you."

Without waiting for an answer, without giving him time to say it back, she turns and walks away, her boots leaving bloody prints along the marble floor.

-----

"Are you all right, cub?" Jaheira asks gently.

Hector stirs, startled. How long has he been staring at the place where she stood? "I-- what?"

She snorts softly. "Nothing. A foolish question. Of course you are not all right." She lays a hand briefly on his shoulder, jerks her head to indicate the body on the floor. "We have stripped him. The stone is here, of course. A key. Some letters. Little else of interest, unless you take interest in clothing more concerned with finery than function."

"Yes. Of course. Good," he says hollowly. "You and Minsc are-- not too hurt?"

"Burns. Scratches. We will mend in time," she says with a slight shrug. There's a pause. He can see her wrestling with the urge to speak again, uncertain in a way he is not used to from her.

"What is it?" he asks.

She draws a slow breath, lets it out in a careful hiss. "I lost my husband, you know, cub."

His head lifts slightly. Yes, he does know this; the histories he read in the monastery spoke of Khalid, Jaheira's husband - at her side in the battle against Sarevok... and then killed by Irenicus in Amn.

"I... do not say this to offer any pleasant platitudes that time heals all," she goes on. "But only to say that you are not as alone as you feel, just at present."

He swallows. "I would not wish this feeling on anyone. I am... so sorry," he mutters.

"Nor would I," she agrees. "But there is more comfort in being of a pack than being a lone wolf, I think." A pause. "I lost Khalid almost at once, a flash; you are granted the knowledge in advance. I will not speculate on which is worse, and in any event it does not matter. What comes after... I can tell you only of my experience."

He searches her expression, looking for any scrap of comfort. "Did it fade, in time? The pain?"

She looks back at him steadily. "Some days it is far away. Other days it is as if it happened yesterday. There were many days when I was not sure how I would go on without the knowledge that he was standing by my side. But I have found ways to live, nevertheless. And..." She hesitates, considers her words. "I am glad for the pain, because it means that the joy was also real. If it meant nothing, it would not hurt."

He manages a slight, shaky smile. "Wisely spoken. You would make a fine monk."

"Mm. I think not. But I know you mean it as a compliment. So thank you." She sighs. "You will be all right, cub. I know it does not feel like it, and I know perhaps you do not even want to be, right now. But you will be. And Karlach..." She trails off, smiles sadly. "She is strong, far too strong to deserve such a fate. But she will be the stronger, to have you beside her - of this I am sure."

He swallows, reaches out and grabs her hand in a sudden, fierce grip. "Thank you," he whispers. "I will try to remember..."

-----

* Terribly self-indulgent artistic license, obviously. Pretty much everything other than the dialogue is from here, to be honest.

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A/N: So anyway, it's 3AM and I've been trying for two and a half hours to write about this scene effectively. If I'm honest, I'm pretty proud of the writing I've been able to do about Hector and Karlach's relationship specifically, but goddamn. There's only anything to write about at all because of the in-game dialogue being so extraordinary and this scene has torn my heart out. And there's a followup one in camp that is almost equally sad but that's going to have to wait until tomorrow I guess.

Anyway, here's a video of the scene itself because, as usual, the voice acting is what really sells all of it and I just... yeah.

Anyway thank you for reading. <3

[blackjackkent]

Can I kiss you? I was hoping you'd say that...