#do you think bhaal needed a child made only out of his flesh to be able to fully control them?

[maegalkarven]

Like, no one argues with the fact that pre memory loss Durge is evil.

We are simply interested WHY they're evil.

And how much work seemed to go into making them that way.

[partmathpartmagic]

And isn’t that just like a sister? (1/2)

tw for references to orin/bhaal shit | Read on AO3 | part 2

"She wants to destroy you—but with her, for the first time, you think you make sense."

Sooo I think this is part 1 of a two-parter about Durge and Astarion having… complicated relationships with their families? I am *trying some stuff* here and idk if I like all of it but I am forcing myself to post it and not overthink it, pls enjoy and be nice

You knew before you knew, the sight of Orin up there with her—formerly your—co-conspirators, the way her braided hair moved when she turned, the way she stood. The shape of her. You knew.

But you needed her to give you the word for it. Sister, she calls you, and time stops.

It’s almost funny, really. For weeks now, you’d been hoping to find family once you reached the city. Family could give you something to anchor yourself to, something to orient yourself around. They would tell you who you were, though admittedly you had started to get the feeling that you didn’t want to know.

Still, even if you’d been made into a monster, you couldn’t have started that way.

Except, apparently, you could.

Now you’re standing in the street on a beautiful afternoon in front of your sister. Passersby should notice her, but they don’t, going about their days as usual. The smell of rotting flesh wafting off her scraps of clothing should be noticeable, if nothing else, but surely the chosen of Bhaal has her ways of staying hidden.

It’s not a smell that bothers you, though you wish it was. To you, it smells like home.

You’re staring at her white eyes and you remember the way you tried to see your reflection in them as a child, but they were too light and you were just a faint silhouette. Your eyes, solid black, reflect everything around them. People–and, perhaps, gods–always saw themselves in you, reflected back, and it drew them to you when Orin only ever unnerved them. So she was left behind, and now you remember, and you blame yourself for not seeing it until it was too late, but it was never personal. You were cold where Orin burned hot, calculated where Orin was passionate. You were better suited. That’s all it was.

But for your sister, everything is personal.

Astarion is next to you, and there’s disgust in every line of his face as he looks at her. You look back at Orin, and yes, you suppose you understand. It’s hard to see her objectively, though. An hour ago, she was just a distant enemy. Now, you know her too well to know what she looks like. She’s not a body, she’s a manic laugh, a vicious smile, a tongue cleaning a blade. She’s dark entity that followed you like a shadow, trying to cut your feet out from under you since the day she was born. She’s your little sister.

Her form shifts in your memory, but you know the smell of her blood. You know exactly how much pressure it takes to break her skin with a dull knife. And you know, above all, that you tried to help.

You tried so hard to explain to Orin that she was doing too much, that she was too eager. She loved Bhaal so much that it made him hate her. She hadn’t even waited for her grandfather to call her to his bed, offering herself up the moment he gave her a second glance, and he’d grown sick of her so quickly. She just needed, and needed, and needed, and she had given you no choice. You had no choice but to pull away. You and the other adults had conversations she didn’t understand, lost in her twisted fantasy land. She didn’t understand.

But it was never for lack of intelligence. You see her now, looking between you and Astarion, and you know she sees the threads that connect you. It’s her gift, one of many. Given half a chance, she will stretch them tight and play them like a harp before slicing through them—no, not slicing. Gnawing them one by one, letting them fray and unravel to a single fiber before they snap on their own. Making it last. She knows at a glance that he’s the most important thing in your life, and you’ve barely even realized it for yourself.

As she calculates how to hurt you most, you remember teaching her how to braid her hair with small fingers. She still wears it like that, down her back. Your heart is tender, horrible, and you wish, now you’ve had a chance at a new start, that you had shown her anything else, anything other than the world you were born into. But how could you have shown her what you yourself didn’t know existed?

In another life, she’d have been an artist.

She smiles and tilts her head, and time starts again, the sounds of the city gate crashing over you, a cool hand at your back, holding you steady.

Steady is something she’ll never know. She doesn’t know enough to want it, and she knows too much.

Your sister is disappearing in front of your eyes, and you’re relieved, but panic rises in your belly. You hadn’t realized what it would mean, having someone who knew the darkness you grew in. She wants to destroy you—but with her, for the first time, you think you make sense.

A cool hand is at your back, and you let her slip away.

Perhaps it’s enough to be understood from the outside. Perhaps a family you build from scratch is enough.

You let the hand pull you close, and you turn away.

[0rinthered]

I am so passionate about Orin, like no it isn't fair she doesn't ever get the chance and Durge doesn't help her or care after the fact. Ironically what Orin did saved everyone and got Durge freedom if they chose it. The fact that all you can really do is insult her or call her stupid besides the "you've been abused and used option" which is a high roll to even convince her is so sad. I don't like mocking her knowing the whole context and why she's doing what she is. It's not a choice really. It feels wrong to me. She's a victim of so much abuse and grooming from all these awful men. I mean Saravok is a creepy ass misogynist who r worded Orin's sister/mom and people mock her about that in way that's really messed up.

The only person who even seems to show a bit of empathy or at least understanding of her is Minthara when she is a big victim of her. Orin punishes people because she's punished by Bhaal, I saw people post the dev notes the tragic context they should have made clear in the game. That she would have even tried to resist Bhaal before and when she did she got killed for it. In a fucked up way Minthara is the closest thing to showing her "love" or at least care, like I know it's not love but just someone like not being horrible to her or looking down on her for existing. She even says they had similar situations and upbringings so you save her that kind of fate. She said she saw herself reflected in Orin broken too. Sad about all the content they didn't give us because I know they said they wanted more Orin/Minthara stuff but I think ti deserved more than a few lines.

Orin's father is literally a child r*pist and apparently has a line where he says he likes her the same way he does her mom? LIKE WTF? and wants her to make babies with durge? I don't know if it is confirmed if he assaulted her or not but he obviously would if he wanted. He shows a lot of hate like he didn't effect what happened if he's mad about what Orin did to Durge. Felt so horrible killing her in the scene after you tell her the truth because she's totally a slave in body then too. It broke my heart. I don't like that they didn't make her background more of the forefront and just let people see her as this crazy one unless you think about her or find tidbits. She felt like a throwaway to me when she's so tragic and she's just mocked and hated by everyone. I hate abused children/women being painted as "crazy psychos" to make fun of. She's severely mentally ill. Ketheric is not a more sympathetic character, he chose to do all he did. Gortash is given more dignity and choice than her. I think Ketheric and his performance are overrated honestly, he just got more screentime and got to be more fleshed out so they say he's better. That's why people go "orin is just an unhinged boring murderhobo" SHE AND AZULA DESERVED SO MUCH BETTER

Yeah it's pretty frustrating - a lot is implied with her but man you really have to look for it, which a lot of people don't bother to do. Orin in my opinion is the most interesting of the three.

I know the general opinion seems to sway to Ketheric, and I really like him, but I think it's pretty ah... shallow? For lack of a better word. Maybe surface level? Like it's very straight forward in my opinion, which doesn't mean it's any less than Orin or Gortash but I think it's easier to absorb if that makes sense?

Whereas with both Orin and Gortash you really need to sniff around, Orin especially. Minthara is the companion she is attached to, as Gortash is Karlach (While it seems like the only connection Ketheric has to the camp is Shadowheart, but that's through Dame Aylin and Isobel strangely enough. Someone correct me if I'm wrong. But he has an entire act to himself so...). But with Minthara, she is so so so easy to miss and thoughtlessly slaughter (ironically enough) so that's a whole bunch of Orin content absolutely nuked off of the bat.

So I suppose the bizarre pacing is to blame for Orin and Gortash kinda farting around, and Orin not being treated fairly compared to how the fandom treats durge. Again, quite "fitting" I guess. Orin doesn't get that privilege of pity and a chance at life whereas Durge gets two chances. The first being actually having a life outside of the temple, and the second being the tadpole. Why? Idk.

I don't even want a redemption for Orin. I think the choice should be there, and I think the choice should be made by her. Only her.

My ideal world would be Orin can escape, stay (what we currently have), or escape in her own little Orin way. To elaborate on that... I think Orin should be able to continue slaughtering people, but I think she should do it for herself. Not for Bhaal, not for the temple. But because SHE wants to. I do however think the ""novelty"" of that for her would vanish pretty quickly once there's no unholy purpose to it, but that's just part of the growth I guess. So she rejects Bhaal, and skitters away into the shadows. She isn't going to have a character arc in like a week and dye her hair white - despite Shadowheart and Orin's similarities - I unfortunately think it'll take a lot lot lot longer and might never happen.

Still, the main point is that she has a choice, something she has been devoid of her entire life. What she chooses to do with that is up to her and that's the beauty of it.

I could go on and on and on about it and how she should actually be given lots of choices but that would just be me rambling even more than I already am LMFAO

Anyway, Orin I love you pookie boobookeys, remember that there's more to life than pleasing someone who never seems to want to please you.

[bloodiedrogue]

I CANT BELIEVE I MISSED SHOW AND TAV! you best believe i have yet another tav to talk about. i am infected with OC disease i cant stop making them.

(keeping it brief this round because its like 4am.)

here is my half-elf durge sunny (short for sunshine)! nobody bothered giving him a proper name as a child, instead he was mostly referred to as simply The Dark Urge, or Bhaals Chosen. he couldnt remember being called anything when he woke up from the nautiloid though, so introducing himself was kind of awkward. the lack of name troubled dear shadowheart so she insisted on calling him something. sunshine started off as a sarcastic nickname (i mean look at the guy he is 6'5, jacked as hell and has the worlds worst resting bitch face) but it caught on. even sunny himself starts to introduce himself as 'sunny'. i always think its hilarious to imagine someone asking him what sunny is short for and this big hunk of beef having to answer 'sunshine.' with a straight face.

his romance is a little complicated.. he definitely has feelings for shadowheart throughout the events of the game. but after dealing with the urges and the tadpole and gortash and orin and bhaal.... this guy is just a (barely) living wreck. whatever relationship they had beforehand is practically decimated halfway through act 3 because sunny just cuts himself off completely from shadowheart. he starts sleeping around (literally anything with a pulse. i think they should neuter this guy) and just generally avoiding any sort of committment or relationship of any kind. not necessarily out of malice but out of fear? protection? he just thinks shadowheart is better without having to worry about him all the time. he is fully aware of how poorly he is put together and he doesn't want shadowheart to keep picking up the pieces. this dude also has 0 communication skills (what being raised in a murder temple does to a mf) and is scared of his own feelings. anything not related to murder and blood is new to him and he does NOT want to deal with it. i also think meeting gortash has a real effect here...coming face to face with an ex-lover and realising just how fucked up your relationship was is sure to make you rethink a few things.

the game ends and sunny is left in limbo. like here is a guy who was sculpted from bhaals own flesh to be the last man left alive and is now just let loose into the world with no idea who he is. he isn't like the rest, he was never a person before all this. he wasn't made to be a person. does he even have the right to be a person after everything he has done in bhaals name? he goes to helpsastarion in the underdark. both because he and astarion are very close friensd but also because he believes that helping the 7,000 spawn acts as some sort off repentance. the idea of sunny and astarion being in charge by themselves is actually kind of terrifying but i think they'd manage okay... they'd be good for each other i think. i'd like to think that after some well deserved healing and reflection that they might end up together... there was definitely an initial chemistry but they were both a little too bonkers to do anything about it. only after they have taken the time to figure themselves out though... i just want them to be happy. i also like to think that shadowheart and nocturne are a happy couple after the game because I'll be damned if she doesn't get her happy ending too.

(i lied about keeping it brief.)

okay, he may be big and spooky because of the dark urge stuff but deep down in my heart that guy is the definition of a sunshine. look at that cute face!

also absolutely love his character arc and the hardships he goes through. they definitely feel really true to how i feel a redeemed durge would end up reacting. especially in regards to relationships.

shame about him and shadowheart! but glad he potentially finds a partner in astarion because that poor vamp needs some loving too 😤💚

[durgesupremacy]

return to fanfiction, after years of hiatus. cause: brainrot. They Meet.

Gortash did not make expectations, and despite that, they surprised him.

How should they have looked, a Child of Bhaal? It’s not as though they ought to be horribly obvious—menacing in form, imposing in stature, eyes bright and piercing with the red glow of the murder god himself. But if he had a hundred guesses, Gortash would never have gotten close to the figure he saw before him. Lithe, pale, barely meeting his height. Their short hair rippled black mixed with a deep, unnatural red, perhaps a trait of their unholy father. Sitting across from him they met his gaze with dark eyes, a black impossibly deeper than their hair that shone with a strange inner glow.

What an odd-looking elf, the street folk might say. Certainly ominous, especially in their dark garb. But Gortash didn’t feel the blood of the murder god. There was no mortal terror, no violence yet. Just an impressively calm countenance. They approached the table and sat across from him, collected and graceful, perfectly content at the heart of the Steel Watch.

“Welcome. An honor, to look at last upon the leader of the Cult of Bhaal.” At this, Gortash surprised himself. It was an honor. His acclaimed correspondent, surely known by none in the light of day. Someone who restored a church as fallen as his own. A peer.

Their head tilted, just slightly. Curiosity. “Well met, Enver Gortash.” Smooth and clear, their voice resonated through the near-empty office like a bell. “You sought me out, and here I am. Do not waste my time. Tell me of your proposal.”

He bristled at the casual command, but smiled nonetheless. For the will of Bane he would make pleasantries. Gortash knew that control over others required dominance of the self.

He would dominate them in time. But not yet. He gave in, made his offer, and let the Bhaalspawn think they were in control.

***

The Baneite was confident. It was refreshing, coming out of the zealous fervor of the temple. The unholy assassins were cunning and committed, but despite the camaraderie of their own there was a depth of insecurity to many in the temple, a desire to prove oneself. Gortash proved nothing. He simply was, despite the fact that he boldly offered alliance with the most dangerous creature he would ever meet.

“I offer my aid in reclaiming your artefacts from the Hall of Wonders. And then, in return, all I ask is that you consider further partnership. Will you join me?” he asked.

A false question. He knew what would happen, just as they would. Only he would pretend and they would not.

“Yes.” His plans were thorough and well-researched; some of the temple’s finest assassins couldn’t have done better. It was oddly satisfying, seeing the truth of Gortash in person, experiencing his shrewd mind in flesh after reading it on paper. “I will need time to prepare.”

They stood, knowing the proper time and meeting place. It seemed like they’d done enough business. But Gortash stood too, a slight scrape of the chair betraying his hurry.

“Tell me your name.” An unplanned un-question. His fingers twitched, clawed gauntlets glinting in the candlelight. Curiosity.

And a novel question, in some ways. Their name was hardly relevant in the temple—they were master, saer, Chosen, blood-kin. And no one asked their name, on the surface. Assassins hardly needed names.

“Solace.”

Gortash looked at them, expression unreadable, before nodding and gathering himself at the desk. “Well met, Solace.” He flicked his wrist and the Steel Watchers parted. Time to go.

Solace left the room, surprised to feel a bit of strength in their step. They hadn’t heard their name in months.