#i love the dark urge too much

[inkyquince]

I love that dark urge is officially THE red flags character. Harr harr lazael and shadowheart and astarion red flags yada yada NO

The conversation players have about those three ? Those three have that conversation about the dark urge.

"I've always loved the colour red..." Astarion says dreamily after gale mentions some of your red flags, while you're beating the shit outta someone in the back

You say something incredibly off putting about the violence in your head? Lae'zel's breath quickens and the faster she gets her thighs clamped around your head, the better.

Shadowheart? Fuckin forget it. You threaten a man within an inch of his life and she just thinks, *till the room smells, till everyone in camp knows your name, till- wait, not till, we're not stopping-*

EVEN THE SENSIBLE ONES??

I can't talk about halsin cuz I'm WRITING that rn, but Gale getting flustered as you wash the blood from your hands? Wyll practising sword play (ehe) with you and needs to dunk himself in cold water afterwards because you're so aggressive and FORWARD. Karlach just gets going watching you tend to your weapons, wiping down the blood from the blades and the quarterstaff and from your boots, with slow precision.

I just think it's neat to be able to officially play THE red flags character that no other red flag character could even attempt to defeat

Edit: EVEN THE FUCKING EMPEROR?? RED FLAGS GALORE??? MASTER MANIPULATOR AND NASTY? hold his hand again, please, he likes it.

[gravedigg]

Young Enver and Virgil have captivated my thoughts today. Also, I realized that I have the power to give Enver a neck tattoo so I did :-).

They probably just did a heist or smth. Gonna celebrate by trying to kill each other.

[dandydanthelion]

he likes to ponder his orb (without the text under the cut)

[shaykai]

Super rambley but Sceleritas tries so hard for Durge.

If they spare Isobel, he tells them they’re going to kill their nearest and dearest companion (which Durge has a history of not doing- Orin straight up calls them a liar if they say they’d kill those they’re closest to without hesitation) not because Bhaal asked for another head to replace Isobel’s, but because Sceleritas knows the consequences of not giving him one (and so should Durge, but their brain is ruined and muddied and surely they can turn this around because it isn’t their fault, they don’t know what they’ve done by sparing her)

They need something grand and dramatic and meaningful, it needs to be a sacrifice on Durge’s end because that’s the only way to possibly make up for them resisting their god given Urge

It’s not meant to be a punishment (but it is, isn’t it?) it’s meant to be repentance, a sad gift to Father in hopes that he’ll forgive their transgression

It’s not right, but that’s just how it is being under Bhaal. Sceleritas understands the consequences- his whole existence is purely meant to help steer Durge towards their purpose- what’s a bit of hurt now if it will save their very life? Their blood right?

The love is there, it’s just twisted to the point that the only people who would recognize it as love are other Bhaalists

[wizardsimper]

Kinda obsessed with the default Dark Urge design

...

Also kinda obsessed with shipping Durge with Tav woops

[ciph3rrr]

u are not immune to gortash's tits!!!!!!!!!

(and neither am i. take this trend with my durge before i become too insane)

bonuses:

the stupidest thing ive ever drawn ever. coping abt them through memes because if i think too hard about my durge + gortash i will pull a gale and explode on command x

[blackjackkent]

Narrator: Tonight's troubled rest is, as ever, overwhelmed by your killing fate. You dangle above a dark precipice, one move away from falling.

Narrator: Another watches your body while it is possessed by the night. You do not dream alone.

The blinding pain and fear of the dream fades, and as Rakha slowly comes to consciousness, trembling with the revelation of who and what she is, she finds that she is not alone. This is not precisely a surprise; Wyll sometimes sits up with her as she sits tied up in her bedroll, shivering with restless nightmares. Lae'zel, too, often prowls at her bedside, watchful for any loss of control.

Tonight, though, it is Jaheira. The older woman sits calmly nearby. Both of her scimitars are out in her hands, rested across her lap, and she watches Rakha stir with calm attentiveness. Her pose is relaxed, but there is a tension in it like the coiled spring of the panther she can become, in the moment before it pounces.

"Dark dreams?" she asks neutrally as Rakha lifts her head.

(A/N: I'm so goddamn proud that I called out in this post that Jaheira had absolutely clocked Rakha's whole situation, because it set this up perfectly entirely by accident. XD )

Slowly and awkwardly, Rakha wrestles herself into a sitting position, watching the Harper guardedly. But Jaheira makes no move to attack, just continues to watch her intently.

"I think I can guess," she goes on, one eyebrow quirking up. "Visions of blood on your hands. The blood in your veins, perhaps."

Rakha goes utterly still. Her eyes widen, and for a moment, utter surprise replaces all the fear and agitation. You know what I am?

Jaheira's lips twitch in a slight, rueful smile. "For all the gifts Bhaal's children inherit," she murmurs, "a peaceful night's sleep is not among them."

(She remembers so many nights on the road. She remembers Caden's torment as he learned who he was, as it threatened to overwhelm him. She remembers many things Caden does not even know she saw.

The last days before their battle against Sarevok; Khalid's low murmur to her as they heard Caden weeping in his bunk. "S-s-should we go to him?" And her slight shake of the head, because what comfort could she possibly offer to that good, kind boy who had just learned there was murder in his soul?

The nights on the road to Dragonspear after Boarskyr Bridge, nights when Caden would wake with a low cry in fear of some monster that had found him in his dreams. She could sense shame in him in those moments, and never spoke to him of them until it was far too late to matter - but she and Khalid watched over him in the night, a comforting presence just out of view.

And the nights in Amn after Spellhold... the worst nights of all. Nights when her bed was cold with Khalid's absence and her thoughts in turmoil, and Caden's soul had been ripped out of him, leaving an empty shell behind in the form of her friend. Nights when he became a monster and had to be beaten into submission. Nights when her deep-set reserve at last failed her, overwhelmed by grief and exhaustion, and she would have welcomed her friend's comfort and to offer it in turn. But there was little left of him to hear her, almost swallowed up by the beast that haunted his mind, and Aerie haunted the bedside of his empty not-quite-corpse like a ghost.

She watches Rakha and sees traces of that same haunted darkness in her new companion's eyes. Caden eventually managed to slip the noose of his heritage and find peace in the forests of Faenya-Dail. She does not know if Rakha will have the strength to do the same - but she is older now, and she will not make the mistake this time of being silent.)

Rakha swallows. Her throat still feels dry and tight and resists speech, but she manages to croak out the question anyway. "How... could you possibly know?"

Her emotions are so tangled it is hard to put names to them. Relief, perhaps - for Jaheira is one of those she trusts most in the camp, and if Jaheira knows, perhaps she will know what to do. But there is also shame, guilt, terror; she feels exposed and frightened and lost. And angry, too.

How long have you known? Why didn't you tell me?

But Jaheira just shrugs. "I don't. Not yet."(*) She climbs slowly to her feet, her eyes never leaving Rakha's. The scimitars hang loosely in both her hands, their blades just skimming the hay-strewn ground. "The dreams alone do not concern me," she goes on after a slight pause. "It is what waking deeds they might inspire."

She peers at Rakha searchingly, her lips drawn into a tight line. "Are you truly your own master?" she asks - and her tone is a strange melding of gentle warmth and cold steel. "What is it you feel, when Father's dreams come calling?"

Rakha flinches. Father. She has never before had that word to put to the urges that drive her. She has not yet accustomed herself to it.

She wondered once - after learning of Shadowheart's past - if she herself had a father that she would drop everything to save. Now she knows the answer, and it makes her skin crawl. Her father is the source of everything that is wrong and broken about her. His influence sits in her head and drives her to kill.

"Helpless..." she mutters. The sense of shame deepens. Her head ducks, but she can feel Jaheira's eyes on her. "Like I can deny him nothing."

She can see the flicker out of the corner of her eye as Jaheira's blades twitch - but do not lift. "Then would you call it mercy," Jaheira says softly, "if the next night I never let you wake?"

Rakha says nothing - but they both know the answer. Yes.

Jaheira sighs, studying her for a long time - and then the blades move again. With a sharp movement, she steps to Rakha's side, flicks out one wrist... and severs the bindings on Rakha's hands.(**) "This is your father's true legacy," she says bitterly. "Not his children, but the fear they plant in us. The savagery it blossoms into."

Rakha draws her hands in front of her, rubs at the sore place on her wrists where the ropes chafed. Then she stands slowly and looks down at Jaheira; for a moment the two of them stare at each other, a long moment of unspoken understanding.

The half-elf is so much smaller than she is, but in this moment Rakha feels much the smaller, for she is acutely aware of the trust Jaheira is giving her... and the fact that Jaheira would end her in an instant if that trust proved misplaced.

"In another time," Jaheira says slowly, "with another of your kind, we found a better way. I would dearly like to find it again."

(Rakha is not Caden, no. She never will be. She did not have the benefit of Gorion's training; there is more of the animal darkness in her than Caden ever had, even in his worst moments. But Jaheira has seen her fight it, has seen the moments of softness in her with Wyll, has seen the strange sincerity with which she asks questions and searches for the right path. In spite of all her caution, Jaheira likes her. If there is a way that does not lead to her death, Jaheira will find it.)

"Tell me what I must do," Rakha whispers. Her voice sounds small in her own ears.

Perhaps Jaheira can hear how lost Rakha feels, because her expression softens a little with a slight, reassuring smile. "You would not be the first to turn the taint in your blood to your advantage," she says quietly. "But there are barriers a Bhaalspawn must overcome, first."

She hisses out a heavy breath between her teeth, her gaze going distant, looking past Rakha and through the wall behind her. "Those of your kind. Orin... I am sure you already know that so long as she lives, she will never stop hunting you."

(She remembers the Five. The Bhaalspawn under Amelyssan's direction who sought to obliterate all those who shared their tainted blood. They nearly succeeded; indeed, she thought they had. How do any remain? How does Rakha live, and Orin? How did Bhaal, dead god that he is, create yet more spawn to do his bloody work?)

She shakes her head sharply with a tight frown. "It might be that you have to turn and face her. You cannot change that. All you can choose is how you meet her - as another bloodied child of Bhaal, or as yourself."

She lifts her head and again meets Rakha's eyes, and the steady certainty in her expression meets Rakha's agitation and calms it like water over fire. "All *I* can offer is the promise that, should you choose to do so, you will not meet her alone."

She waits until Rakha nods. Then, in a single smooth motion, she sheathes both scimitars and sits down on a nearby haybale. "For now, take what rest you can," she says - and now there's an unmistakable gentleness in her tone that Rakha has never heard before. "I will watch over you this night."

Rakha tilts her head to one side, and something like black humor flickers through her eyes for a moment. "To watch over me?" she asks. "Or to protect against me?"

Jaheira's lips twitch with muted amusement. "I suppose you'll have your answer when you wake in the morning."

It's not much reassurance. But it's something. The dreams of blood still wait for her... but it's a comfort different even from Wyll's support to know that Jaheira's eyes are on her, that the Harper knows what she is and hasn't turned away.

She curls back into her bedroll, her hands free, her eyes twitching restlessly under their lids. And Jaheira, true to her word, waits and watches in the darkness, like a wolf on guard before its den.

----

(*) I looked at the dialogue files for this scene. This line appears to be bugged, bc in-game it got skipped, but I like it so I'm including it. XD

(**) Artistic license, obviously. All the references to Rakha being bound up at night are my particular headcanon.

[mightymizora]

I love the Ketheric third wheel stuff

But I also have to say I really, really wish there was more stuff exploring Durge and Gortash being not quite together and Durge getting their head turned by Ketheric.

Yes, you can read the reunion with Ketheric as just a dislike

OR

you could interpret his shit-eating grin and the line “he will never tell” as something quite different

[sakutair]

Pale, red-eyed, bloodthirsty

[vialae]

does anyone care abt me posting wips??

anywhere heres another i took the quartet stuff and edited it to being the same proposition but in a different setting yippee

There was a small knock at the door; two light taps against the thick wood that only just carried through.

Gortash lightly gestured his left hand without looking and a modified, smaller Steel Watcher whirred into action. It stomped over to the door and pulled it open, making way for a well dressed servant to step in.

With perfect posture, they confidently approached their leader, barely even glancing at the Bhaalspawn. “A letter from Lady Hhune, Your Grace. Claimed to be urgent.” The servant bowed their head, holding the delicate golden tray out toward the Archduke.

Gortash lifted the letter from the tray without looking at the servant. He idly strolled around his desk and to the empty space of the office as the servant left and quietly clicked the door shut behind them. He easily broke the wax seal of the thick parchment, his nose scrunching slightly as the strong perfumed scent of violet and iris wafted from the page. Dark eyes darted across the letter, reading quickly. 

Dearest Archduke Enver Gortash,

I would like to cordially invite you to the Songbird Theatre on the fourteenth of Uktar to attend a performance from the Waterdeep String Quartet.

In accordance with it being my birthday week, the highly talented musicians will be travelling down specifically to perform for the event, and it would be the highest honour to have you in attendance.

The royal box will be provided for your exclusive use, alongside seating for a plus one if you may choose to invite another.

A three course meal will be provided at the Hhune Estate afterwards.

I look forward to seeing you there.

Yours Faithfully,

Lady Silvia Hhune 

After a moment, he let out an amused huff of air from his nose. “They worked up the courage to send a personal invite.” Gortash held the letter out to Kaidos as he lazily opened only one eye to take the paper between his first and middle finger before rotating it to the proper orientation. Flaming eyes blinked open properly, barely glossing over the words as he also read fast.

“Are you taking a plus one?” 

“I might if I find the right person.” Gortash sat down next to Kaidos, their shoulders bumping together with how close he got. 

“No.” He handed the letter back to the Banite, who simply tossed it down onto the coffee table before resting a hand on the Bhaalian’s knee. 

“Look at me, darling.” 

Kaidos let his head fall to the side, still in his slouched position. 

“It truly would mean a lot to me if you joined me. You would enjoy yourself, I assure you.” 

A smirk tugged at the side of Kaidos’ mouth as he closed his eyes once more. “You’re such a good liar.”

Gortash tightened the grip he had on the tiefling’s knee to shake it a little bit, wordlessly insisting that he continue to have his attention. “You read the part about it being Lady Hhune’s birthday, yes? I will allow you to pick a member of her family off that very evening if you join me.”

The proposition made the Bhaalspawn open his eyes as the Banite continued.

“Think about it – how awfully tragic it would be –  to have such a shocking end to what would have otherwise been a lovely day for her. All down to your cold blooded actions.”

Kaidos remained silent for a few moments, clearly thinking it over.

“Her nephew propped up in his dining chair. Head on the plate before him. The first and only guest sat for her birthday dinner.” The Bhaalspawn could not stop the small chuckle which escaped as he finished his sentence.

“Oh, you are cruel.” Gortash shared a sadistic grin with Kaidos, now fully awake and sitting up straight. “So you will join me?”

“Why not? Perhaps I will enjoy myself.”

[igotthatspursjinglejangle]

gortash nation i know it sounds impossible but can we have a fluff fic just once !!!

[ranger-crisis]

Ahegrujrbwhwbjwjdjfj look at him and his nice hair, but also I’ve been told (and agree) that he looks like a closeted gay/bi dad. Doesn’t make him less wonderful though.

[aimfor-theheart]

—————————————— Nynseph ——————————————

daughter of death, born with too much life. clawed her way out of her own grave, from the underworld, from her father’s frigid embrace. sister killer, life saver. the great change of the seasons, from pale winter to shuddering, hot spring. the flower and the serpent underneath. death’s lost love; the seed to his scythe. so desperate to defy fate and their red strings. life-sworn; promised to protect nature and in doing so, defying her own. wayward, aching, furious soul, begging for forgiveness. begging for life, for love, for a world untorn. begging to bury her father’s sickle, so that she may bloom.

[shaykai]

He’s not taking the whole “being murdered” thing very well :/

[dandydanthelion]

everytime i listen to "the power" in the game or outside (cus its a banger ost honestly) i get reminded of wyll and zaire's dance

and i love it, ty larian for using this ost for my favorite romance scene

[dice-n-antlers]

I’m fuckin’ WHEEZING It’s already funny when Astarion looks down his nose at the taller races, but the animation is so exaggerated when he’s looking at a shortstack

(looking at Zephyr the halfling druid here)

THIS is the look of a thirsty man eying down his next capri sun