#it's finally time for my wyll origin run

[barbatusart]

bit of thinking outloud but for my current tactician run im doing a special wyll origins playthrough im calling the Evil Wyll Run & it’s given me a lot of food for thought about his character (or at least the freedom of psychological movement + exploration afforded to an origin run!)

wyll spoilers abound we’re entering the wyllenium here

wyll always felt a bit underwritten to me - i know that’s partially because there was that big kerfuffle in the 11th hour with changing his whole story and personality on top of having to recast his VA, and frankly hats off to both original VA lanre malaolu & new VA theo solomon for their hard work - both brought tremendous performances, & i sincerely hope mr malaolu was paid well for his work & time even if his voice wasn’t used in the final cut (i would also say warlock as a class itself felt a bit underdeveloped but im 100% OK with chalking that up to me the player not understanding how to play warlock effectively yet lol im more of a fighter barbarian Hit Stuff guy)

but honestly this feeling of being “underwritten” combined with a character with a long history of heroism in his pocket made wyll really interesting to me even in my tav playthrough. for all his accomplishments he still feels like a blank everyman, or like he’s someone who fully believes he’s the main character who doesn’t “need” to do any extra work on himself - and honestly he feels Very much like he could be The Main Character. once his backstory of the son of the duke was revealed too i immediately got the sense of like, rich boy trying to prove his worth beyond his wealth and status by striking out & becoming that hero, or that Prince Charming. basically that perfect happily ever after somebody. and im of the opinion that you don’t get mixed up with a cambion in the first place unless you’re either the kind of naïve “everything will just work out” immature that tends to comes with his status as the son of a noble, or you’re hungering for power. depending on playstyle he’s very easily both of these things

on the naïve front (ie a good wyll playthrough) if anything he feels very believably immature, & from that perspective the events of the game feel as though they’re the prequel to the actual start of wyll's story where he finally finds himself & learns what kind of man he really is. we just dont get to see it alas, but i really enjoyed the thought exercise of somebody still grappling with overcoming his own immaturity. he feels like someone who can still grow and that his tale is just beginning

Evil Wyll (meaning any time mizora shows up he drops everything to enact her instruction & hasnt once tried to find a loophole out of his contract) which ive come to be far more fascinated by is someone clearly vying for power, which is interesting because his noble status would’ve given him all the power he wants had he Played Nice. to me it speaks of someone who wants to be able to take what he wants from life without it being handed to him, which contrasts in a really fascinating way with entering into a warlock pact at all. maybe he thought it was better that it be a decision he made as opposed to nobility given to him by his family ties, maybe there’s still that pollyanna sentiment of “it’ll just work out & ill live happily ever after.” again maybe both. maybe in a sense the fiend, as he calls himself, is a good excuse to shuck off any poor decision he makes or any genuinely heinous thing he does under mizora’s instruction - an identity he uses as power fantasy (and very much in tandem/interchangeable with the blade of frontiers power fantasy) until it means taking ownership for any of his misdeeds, and then a scapegoat.

may be a bit incoherent but im only now hitting act 3 in my origin run & im Really enjoying this difficult characterization ive cooked up for myself lol

[catgirlsp0ck]

no one asked but here's my favorite bg3 ships:

shadowzel (shadowheart/lae'zel). they are my favorite !!! love a good enemies to lovers

wyllstarion (wyll/astarion). monster hunter x "monster" dynamic which im obsessed with. they have the potential to either make each other worse or better and it's really interesting to see it play out either way

bladeweave (wyll/gale). they would be the sweetest, most romantic and loving couple ever,, i just know it. they'd dance all the time at camp and say so many cheesy lines to each other both in camp and while traveling that all the party members would get annoyed pretty quickly lol

idk their ship name but karlach/gale ! both have been doomed to die by something that has invaded their bodies (the orb and karlach's infernal engine) and i feel like they would be just a really nice couple. they are so fucking underrated omg. if there isn't one already, i feel like infernalweave or something would be a good ship name for them :P

again idk the ship name but karlach/minthara. i saw some clips of the end dialogue (after brain, before epilogue) of karlach origin with the minthara romance and oooh it was so good. i literally put my karlach run on hold just so i can romance minthara (whenever thats fixed lmfao)

wyllsin (wyll/halsin). again, just a really sweet couple. can you tell i love wyll? lol. he deserves all the love in the world <3

and finally, karlach/lae'zel/shadowheart. they are poly and in love !!!!! and no i will not be taking any criticism on this, just trust me. i think that karlach and shadowheart would probably start dating and then shadowheart and lae'zel would have their enemies to lovers thing, to which karlach suggests lae'zel join their relationship. i think they are all in love with each other 🙏

[star-bear-art]

[That love is like a star

It's gone, we just see it shining

It's travelled very far]

I have sat in rendering hell on this piece for like. A MONTH!! So worth it. Consider this a manifestation for my love of Wyll Ravenguard (and I haven't even completed a romance route with him yet!)

(Below is going to be me ranting about the state of his route/content in the game. If you don't want to read that, feel free to just stare at the pretty colours and move on :])

But WOOF. So many frustrations with how his route plays (as of patch 4, the last run I completed!) I've seen people comparing the lack of his development Act 3 with Karlach, and I honestly don't think they're comparable at all. Yes, it's obvious there was more planned (I can't even remember how much extra infernal iron we have at the end of act 3), but she at least has a cohesive narrative emotionally. She resonates! Wyll (by no fault of Theo, whose voice acting is stellar).. did not, for us. At the end of everyone else's personal quest, we were practically crying, but by his? We were mostly confused - due almost entirely to the very convoluted and buggy implementation of his story beats. Let alone that the whole wyrmway sequence becomes way more about the Emporer than him, or that his final speech triggered three seperate times for us consecutively, or the mess with Mizora, the Grand Duke, and Florrick after we defied her to save his father. He's given no agency as a character over his own choices compared to the other companions (at some of his most pivotal moments, as tav you choose his future for him without even a roll!) It was so, so disappointing. I love Wyll, especially Act 1 - but you can seriously feel the lack of polish or finish for his character in the game right now. And regardless of the team's intentions, he's the only Black origin character. That shit has an impact (doubly so when you consider how bg3 imports dnd/forgotten realm's well-discussed racism pretty much wholesale). He deserves as much agency and autonomy over his own story as every other origin character, and I seriously hope he gets it, soon. 'Til then, that's the majesty of fandom, right?

[justcallmefox89]

Gale and the Gith: Chapter Four - The Grove Part II

X'aa'nath's past is revealed.

"I saw you at the gates.  You fight well.  A few words for the kids?  Spare a story or two?”  Ashrak’s voice carries over to the pair.

 Oh no.

Gale hurries over in an attempt to cut X’aa’nath off before too much damage is done.

“Bad news, children: you are all going to die.” 

Too late.

The children whimper and back away in fear while Astarion cackles gleefully.  X’aa’nath stands stoically, a slightly confused look on his face as Ashrak and Wyll both glare at him. 

“Good job,” Ashrak scolds the gith, scowling.  “Was that truly necessary?”

X’aa’nath returns his scowl, reflexively lowering his hand to his dagger.  “I speak nothing but the truth, istik.  They are small, they are weak, they are inexperienced, and if this paltry training session is all you can offer them, when your enemies come they will be the first to die.  Their deaths will be because of your failings, not my words.”

Gale grabs X’aa’nath’s forearm and tugs him away as Wyll deftly steps between the two men, softly murmuring words of peace.

“Aww,” Astarion pouts.  “It was just getting interesting.”

*********************************************************

“I cannot believe you did that!  Were you deliberately trying to frighten them?”

I usually find the wizard’s voice soothing, but his nagging has not ceased since we left the grove, and my limited patience has nearly run out.

“It was cruel,” Wyll chimes in.

“If you found that cruel then you’ve truly led a blessed and sheltered life, she’lak,” I respond without looking at him, my tone deliberately bored.

“I know that things are different in githyanki culture, but you cannot just run amok-”

Gale’s voice is instantly silenced as I make a small hand gesture beneath my robes.  He frowns, opening and closing his mouth, clearly speaking words, and growing increasingly frantic when he is unable to make even the smallest sound.

I allow myself a tiny smile; unfortunately Wyll notices.

“What did you do?” he demands, glaring at me.

This time I don’t bother concealing my hands.  One quick flick of my wrist later and Wyll’s voice no longer plagues my ears.

“What on earth did you do to them?” Astarion asks, openly fascinated.  “Can you do it to other people?  And why haven’t I seen one of them do it?”

I merely shrug, smirking at the impotent glares the two humans give me.  “It is a simple enough spell.  I use it more as a reminder than anything else.”

Astarion gives me a sidelong look.  “A reminder of what, my dear?”

“In this case?”  I allow my eyes to dispassionately roam over the two human spellcasters.  “That no matter what bargains have been made with devils, or whatever blessings have been bestowed by an inferior goddess, their magic… everything they are, every gift they have is conditional.  And can easily be taken away.”

I pause, allowing a small ball of lighting to form in my hand, rolling it easily over my long fingers.  “But I… I have been blessed by the elements.  I am magic incarnate; I am the storm.  My powers cannot be taken from me, and even if some istik ever managed such a feat, I was trained for years by one of Vlaakith’s most powerful kith’raks.  I can kill with a sword just as easily as magic, and it would be wise not to annoy me.”

Astarion grins slowly, flashing his long, white canines.  “Oh… I think I’m going to like you even more than I originally thought.”

He links his arm through mine and leads me away from Wyll and Gale, peppering me with questions about the potential uses for my magic.

Several hours later….

“I see kin has finally seen fit to give you your voice back.” 

Gale startles, splashing a bit of stew over the edge of the cauldron, causing the campfire to sizzle and smoke.  “Lae’zel!  I… yes.  He has.”

She crouches down next to the wizard, watching intently as he adds various spices and vegetables to the evening’s stew.  “Remember this next time you irritate him.  X’aa’nath can steal the air from your lungs just as easily as he can steal your voice.  He was merciful today, though I do not understand why.”

Gale snorts and rolls his eyes.  “You and I have very different perceptions of mercy, Lae’zel.”

She shrugs one shoulder nonchalantly.  “You are not his varsh, nor his kith’rak.  Who are you or the warlock to attempt to lecture him?”

“He terrorized those children!  There was -”

“He terrorized them, or he told a truth that you and the warlock did not want to hear?” Lae’zel interrupts, golden eyes piercing him to the spot.

Gale remains silent, tossing a last bit of chopped up carrot into the stew and stirring it thoroughly.  While he adamantly objects to the way X’aa’nath handled the situation, it would be a lie for Gale to say he had never considered the possibility that many of the tieflings would die before reaching Baldur’s Gate.  “There was no reason for him to scare them like that,” he says eventually.

Lae’zel tilts her head to the side for a moment, considering.  “Do you know what happens when an egg fails to hatch with the rest of its clutch?”

Gale blinks, confused by the sudden change in subject.  “No?”

“It is destroyed.  The weak have no place in githyanki society.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“X’aa’nath did not hatch with the rest of his clutch.  His egg was to be destroyed, but Kith’rak Khou’zal stepped in, saying he felt the unhatched child held great potential.  Khou’zal waited, relinquishing his spot as one of Vlaakith’s most valued knights and becoming varsh to an unhatched egg.  When the rest of their creche moved on, he remained here on the material plane, training the hatchling.” 

“You were part of the same creche?”

She shakes her head.  “No, but Khou’zal’s madness was a topic of much conversation among the elders in creche K’liir.  Why would a revered warrior give up his return to the Astral Plane to stay here alone and raise a whelp who should have been crushed long ago?”

“How do you know that X’aa’nath is that hatchling?” Gale asks quietly.

“As it was only Khou’zal and the hatchling, they had no permanent creche.  So they traveled, visiting other creches occasionally, allowing the hatchling to train with other githyanki younglings.  I was in the final stages of my training when they visited creche K’liir.”  Lae’zel falls silent, turning her attention inward, staring back on a memory that only she can see.

“What was he like then?” Gale wonders aloud.

Lae’zel huffs a small laugh.  “Arrogant.  Silent.  Smaller than all the other hatchlings.  Gifted.  They dismissed him because of his size.  They knew him as a stunted egg who should never have hatched.  He was challenged by many.”    

Gale’s eyes automatically search out X’aa’nath, spotting him as he leaves camp, walking towards the shore.  Even now the young sorcerer is noticeably smaller than Lae’zel, shorter by far than the average adult gith, but no less physically powerful.  “What happened when they challenged him?”

Lae’zel slight smile is cast in a sinister glow by the firelight.  “He killed them all.  The one who was never supposed to be slaughtered many of my clutch-mates.  And they deserved it, for underestimating him.”

Gale stares at her, horrified. 

“You view what he did today as cruelty, but he really performed a kindness.  Hope is not what those tieflings need right now, wizard.  Hope will not protect them in the coming weeks.  They need to truly face everything that is at stake, even the children.”  Lae’zel stands, running her hands up and down her thighs.    

Gale remains next to the campfire, absently mindedly stirring the stew, looking up occasionally to see to X’aa’nath has returned to camp yet.  After several long minutes he stands up, brushing down his robes, and hurries to the shore, missing the knowing smiles Karlach and Astarion exchange.

It doesn’t take him long to find the sorcerer, sitting cross legged by the water, eyes serenely closed as he engages in his nightly meditations.  The numerous walls guarding his mind have been temporarily lowered in his relaxed state, allowing Gale’s tadpole to connect with his.  Memories slam into the wizard’s consciousness, their intensity bringing him to his knees.

X’aa’nath as a child, facing down a ferocious looking owlbear with only a dagger, tears in his eyes as he looks towards a silver-hair githyanki knight for aid.

“Summon your strength and attack!  Whether you live or die falls on you, X’aa’nath!  Save yourself!” the elder gith commands.  “Utilize your training!”

X’aa’nath, only a few years older, surrounded by other gith younglings in large training room.  His eyes are wild, darting around looking for escape as the others close in on him, hands tearing at his hair and skin.

X’aa’nath, perhaps only a year or two younger than he is now, standing silently in yet another unfamiliar creche training room, spattered in blood and his long, white hair in disarray, surrounded by the fallen bodies of his kin.  The silver haired elder, Khou’zal, Gale surmises, stands by his side, wearing a look of intense pride.

 A few days ago, aboard the crashing nautiloid.  Khou’zal and X’aa’nath crouch behind a broken mindflayer pod, both injured and breathing hard.  Khou’zal shoves a large supply pack in X’aa’nath’s arms, along with a crossbow and several daggers.

“Go!” he shouts, pushing the young gith away from him.

Both gith turn their heads, eyes widening at the sound of several rapidly approaching illithid. 

“I won’t leave you!” X’aa’nath argues, summoning a large ball of lighting, determination settling over his features.

Khou’zal takes him by the shoulders, shaking him hard.  “This is my final command as your varsh, child.  Go.  Now.  I will buy you as much time as I can.”

X’aa’nath’s resolve wavers in the face of his elder’s command, but after a moment he collects himself, scowling.  “I will not.”

Khou’zal shoves him, hard, leaping to his feet and drawing a large, silver sword as the mindflayers draw ever closer.  “I will not let you die here, gish!  Not before you’ve even had a chance to live.”

The sorcerer hesitates, the will to live and dedication to his varsh warring inside him.

“You have always been my joy, X’aa’nath, even when I was unable to show it.  Now go, my child.”  Khou’zal gives him a last, fierce smile before charging into battle, meeting the illithids head on with a flash of silver.

X’aa’nath closes his eyes, and to his eternal shame, he turns and runs.

The memories stop abruptly, and Gale opens his eyes to see X’aa’nath staring at him, pale eyes reflecting the silver light of the moon.

[bananasfosterparent]

Update on my current runs!

Silkina the Bard Waveservant -

She got the Volo eye (not pictured) and has been helping her friends while looking for a cure. This is my first "good" solo run, so it's a lot of content, more than I'm used to! Definitely going slower than my usual, but still a lot of fun! Also never realized how funny Karlach is lmao. Just getting to the goblin fight so we'll see how it goes! Very excited to get Wyll's party scene!! Silkina is sassy, but kind and really an outlier among other waveservants because of it. Well, she's really good at connecting with others at least. Despite it being odd, since most Waveservants (especially clerics) are quite standoffish and introverted, Silkina focuses on making her outgoing nature work for her, sharing the might and fury of Umberlee with her words (and music).

Also.. after getting the Volo eye and almost everyone disapproving, I noticed Wyll didn't.. but he didn't have a ! either. I had her talk to him anyway and he was like "Welcome to the one eye club! A woman with one eye is very intriguing c:" and I giggled.

Efeniti (Spawn Astarion ending AU run) -

In the exact same place it's been for a few weeks lmao I have not touched this playthrough. I AM SCHTALLING. I know what you're thinking... because I'm an AA fan... but really, I just can't emotionally handle the break down scene after he brutally stabs Cazedor. Or the brutal stabbing. I am really not ready for that. I have my own feelings for why and what it makes me experience, but maybe if I actually go through with it this time, I can talk about it (it's not that bad, I'm just procrastinating).

This version of Efenity is who she would be if she hadn't lost the woman who was like a mother to her. If she had been able to have a somewhat normal life and become a private magic teacher in the upper part of the city. She's much kinder and able to temper herself much better.

Efenity (Canon AA romance run #whatever) -

This is idk like the 5th time I've played as Efenity. I've lost count 🤷🏽‍♀️ Most of these runs, I only got to Act 3 and only 2 I've gotten to the final fight and couldn't win it after trying over and over. This time I plan to finish it!!! I want my epilogue, dang it! I killed Minthara this time, at the party. There was a leftover from EA with a voiced Tav scene. If you killed Minty and the goblins at the party, that night or morning after(?) there's some conversation and Tav says something in the cut scene! ANYWAY... I tried it and it didn't happen 😭😭😭 I either did it wrong (I attacked before Minty had her murder cutscene) OR they patched it out of the game! I could go back and try it again, but I barely won that fight and it took me SO many tries (mostly due to needing to long rest).

But! Regardless! Even though I didn't get that cool voiced Tav scene... I have added Efenity killing Minthara and the goblins at the party to her canon story. Because it just makes sense that she'd do that. Originally, she just uses her to get to Moonrise but I scrapped that. While Efenity just sees the tieflings as collateral damage, she knows Shadowheart was struggling with that whole ordeal which did bother her... she cares for SH and she is her first real friend. And with Minthara insulting her for not wanting to sleep with her, on top of it...

Efenity was like OKAY. Time for you to go, ma'am.

Solenia Omraebra, the Drow Cleric -

I've only had her for about a week and I love her. She's also been through at least 6 different hairstyles 😭 Solenia is my newest Tav, a Drow and cleric of Eilistraee! She's very studious and scholarly. I don't know much about her beyond that yet. Still working on her backstory and whatnot, BUT she is good to a fault. She wants to save everyone, in every way that she possibly can. Even those she probably shouldn't get close enough to, to try to save. Even those she is told are irredeemable. She's romancing Gale! She's just getting through Act 1 stuff and almost to the goblin camp!

[littlejuicebox]

Midwinter Carol 1 (v2) / The Prologue

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x Female Elf Sorceress OC

Word Count: 3.4 K

Story navigation: [1][2][3][4] [5] [6] [7]

Summary:

Astarion completed the Ascension Ritual, and shortly after, his lover left him. Eirianwen fled from Baldur's Gate for fifteen years, only to return unexpectedly at Wyll Ravengard's Midwinter Gala with some news of her adventures. Astarion, who has not been doing as well as he'd hoped gaining control over The Gate, is forced to confront his unresolved feelings for the woman and all the horrors of his past as well as the horrors he's inflicted upon others. One thing is made certain: the elven sorceress is the key to any ounce of salvation he may have left, if only she stops slipping through his fingers like sand from an hourglass.

But old habits die hard, and old feelings are pulled to the surface for both the elves. This unanticipated meeting catalyzes a series of events which force Astarion to confront the wounds of his past and deal with the damage he's done while trying to run from himself. The Ascendant is forced to decide whether he will continue on his current path or forge a new one... perhaps one that leads him back to the love of his life.

Warnings: This will be 18+ / in game spoilers / Eventual Smut / Angst, trauma, fluff / Gore / Violence / PTSD / Astarion’s past trauma

A/N: Apologies everyone, not a new update, just a re-write of my original one shot to align more with Eirianwen/Astarion and have a 3rd person version of this for continuity purposes. :)

-----

Fifteen years. The Vampire Ascendent hadn’t seen her in fifteen years, since she’d rejected his offer to become his loyal consort for the final time.

They couldn’t reconcile their differences. She’d wanted him to trust her, to believe that her love was stronger than any desire for power – that she could remain a mortal or become a true vampire like him and still remain loyal. She didn’t want to be a spawn; she’d considered his offer a great disrespect, and ultimately, his changed behavior had driven her away.

“You’re nothing like the man I fell in love with anymore. I don’t know who you are.”

Those words had stung, though he’d never admit it.

It had been an awful, messy, seething breakup, to be sure… and the Vampire Lord almost turned her against her will anyway. But at the time, Astarion’s soft spot for the sorceress had reigned supreme, and he still thought himself better than Cazador and above such things. So, against his own wishes, he’d let her go.

Last the Vampire Ascendent heard of the woman’s movements, she was somewhere along the Sword Coast, playing valiant hero once again. So, when he walked into Duke Ravengard’s Midwinter Gala with some pretty little villain on his arm that he’d picked up for the occasion and would likely drain of blood and dispose of later, he was flabbergasted to see his ex-lover sitting at the high table.

Right. Next. To. Wyll.

Fifteen years and it still felt like the greatest betrayal, as if she’d staked him through the heart in that moment. It took every ounce of Astarion’s control to not turn into a cloud of smoke and break The Duke’s neck then and there. Oh, but how desperately he wanted to.

But he couldn’t risk such a spectacle… many of his dealings were hanging tenuously as it was, and creating a power vacuum in the city was just as bad for him as it would be for those against him. No, Wyll helped to maintain the balance… and generally tolerated Astarion with some level of old-ties respect. They had an agreement: the pale elf would keep his business private and primarily drink from criminals, and Wyll would turn a relatively blind eye. So no, as much as he wanted to, Astarion couldn’t afford such a loss of control.

The Ascendent watched as she walked about the room with Duke Ravengard, hanging on his arm like a prize and chatting with nobles and old contacts. Astarion’s date — what was their name again? — tried more than once to steal his attention away, but resigned themselves to drinking heavily and dancing with several other guests. The elf watched the sorceress join the dance floor with The Duke and his blood boiled at the sight; he even bent the stem of his golden goblet from merely witnessing the vile scene.

No. Absolutely not. This wouldn’t do. Astarion had to do something, had to interrupt whatever game this was. How dare she and Wyll disrespect him like this! So, he stood and abruptly crossed the dance floor, the other guests parting like the Red Sea before him in their shock. 

Lord Ancunin never made his way to the dance floor for anyone.

“May I interrupt and have this next dance?” 

The Ascendent’s voice is honeyed and saccharine as the music pauses and the band readies for their next ballad. Everyone around the room is clapping politely. A gentleman’s smile is plastered across the elf’s lips, but it doesn’t meet his eyes, as he extends his pale hand to the woman.

Wyll bristles and turns to look at his companion. There’s a moment of silent communication between two sets of eyes that must know one another quite well, because Astarion cannot read their nearly-imperceptible movements as he waits, his hand outstretched mid-air. Finally, the Duke relents and passes the sorceress’s hand to the Vampire Lord.

“No funny business, Astarion. My men and I will be watching your every move,” the Duke warns through a benevolent-appearing smile, a warning hand clasped on the vampire’s tensed back, before locking eyes with the woman once more and then stiffly turning and walking toward the high table.

She smiles at Astarion, as if it’s just the two of them back in the center of that clearing, draped in moonlight and barren to one another, all those years ago. 

“It’s good to see you, my old friend.”

Old friend? Old friend? The words make the Vampire Ascendent’s mouth practically fill with bile as he spins his ex-lover about the room. He can feel the steady, stable beating of her heart and smell that intoxicating, tempting bouquet of blood brimming beneath her skin that he’d never quite forgotten.

They catch up, to some small extent, as she tells the elf about her journeys along the Sword Coast and he tries to impress her with his ever-growing influence and wealth. But before long, the song is over and the Duke is, annoyingly, coming back to retrieve his prize. The sorceress smiles so sweetly at Astarion before she departs that it almost hurts; no one else looks at him with that level of love and kindness… all he ever sees anymore are eyes filled with fear, mistrust, or hate.

“I hope you’re happy, Astarion. Truly. I’m glad to see you looking so well. Now go find the date you came with… they’re owed a dance, I believe,” she says before pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek and sending an electric shock through his numb heart. He almost gives into his urges and bites her right there, in front of everyone, claiming his love and his prize. 

“Goodbye, Astarion,” she says before once again turning her back on him and walking away.

“Goodbye, Eirianwen,” he calls after the woman as her hand ghosts away from his own.

He wants to reach for her hand and pull her back to him. He wants to ask for a second dance. But again, he lets Eirianwen go, slipping through his fingers like sand through an hourglass.

Astarion cannot take any more of this. He goes to retrieve his date, rips them away from whatever conversation they were having with whatever noble, and swiftly exits the party. Back at the Palace, the poor little thing is used for mindless sex and then for sustenance and then left to be disposed of by one of the staff with nary a thought. 

The Ascendant couldn’t even remember their name.

*

A week rolls by, and gods what a terrible week it was. Astarion’s grip had severely  weakened on the city after a few poor calls. In his pride, he’d never admit they were his fault; instead, he quickly blamed his advisors and sent them to the dungeons. 

Furthermore, the meeting he’d hosted today with several of the Guilds had practically blown up in his face as the Guild Leaders came to blows in the middle of the Great Hall. Mortal creatures could be so… excitable. The entire ordeal was giving him a massive headache. If the leaders didn’t come to an agreement soon, he would lose his monopoly on the shipping industry, as well as his tenuous control over the blackmarket smuggling ring. 

The Ascendant settles into his bed, alone, after downing several goblets of wine, but sleep does not come to him. He’s awake, staring at the ceiling, and all he can think about is Eirianwen. Gods, he thought he’d moved past all this. But as he remembers her face, their nights together, the way her beautiful body felt pressed flush against his… he feels his erection growing. The elf is about to stick his hand inside his trousers to provide himself with some relief when a familiar, annoying voice travels through the room.

“I’ve been watching you, Astarion.”

Fucking Gale. The fucking God of Ambition. The Vampire Lord shoots up in bed and immediately sees the silvery form of his former campmate standing at the foot of it.

“What the hells, Gale! A God and still an absolute pervert, I see.”

The God ignores Astarion, moving to sit his ethereal form on the edge of the bed and indenting the silken, cerulean sheets with the ghosting of his form. The elf wrinkles his nose in displeasure as he rips his legs as far away from Gale as he can.

The God sighs, “Astarion, you’ve rejected my help before, and the strides you’ve made within the city are falling… it’s beginning to seem that you are headed down a path you are not going to be able to return from. A few more bad calls and you won’t come back from it. You are wasting your potential because you refuse to become the master of your own ambition rather than a slave to it. I’m beginning to wonder… is this what you truly want? I can see many lifetimes of yours, with many choices you’ve made along the way, and I’m sorry to tell you this lifetime seems to be the most miserable.”

Astarion scoffs. The fact that Gale is the only prior friend that keeps in touch with him, albeit for his own peculiar reasons, is a sad fact that the Vampire Lord refuses to acknowledge. He’d pushed everyone else away years ago. The only other person he ever saw was Wyll at obligatory balls, galas, and political events… and obviously the last time had been less than fulfilling. 

But loneliness resided deep in the Ascendant’s heart, hidden away from even his own acknowledgement, so although Gale had always been his least favorite, the pale elf still engaged in conversation.

“What do you mean by that? That you can see several of my lifetimes? I find it difficult to believe that this is the worst. Surely there is a lifetime in which I’m still under Cazador’s control.”

The God of Ambition considers this, and then turns and looks off into the distance, as if he’s examining something Astarion cannot see. 

“Hmm. Actually, there is only one lifetime in which that is still ongoing. So yes, that one may be the worst. I stand corrected, this is the second worst. You’re dead in more of them, a spawn in most of them… and your Tav, or some other version of Tav, is in several as a friend or a lover, to both the spawn and ascendant versions of you. You might be surprised to know that in more than one lifetime, you and I are coupled… it’s quite interesting.”

Astarion cringes at the thought of being in a relationship with Gale, but chooses to move past the thought and acknowledge the only bit of information he actually cares about, “My Tav– Ani–  is in several of them?”

“Of course. Would you like to see it? Let me take you on a little journey.”

Gale holds his hand out the Vampire Lord, and Astarion cannot help but feel the pull of intrigue. Gods… at least this would guarantee a more interesting night than one with his hand spent down his own pants.

The pale elf sighs and extends his hand to the God of Ambition; just as their fingers brush, he feels himself enveloped in the warmth of the Weave. Blue light swirls and spirals around the two beings before, suddenly, Astarion and Gale are standing outside a tomb. The Ascendant hears himself screaming, voice raw with anguish, from inside the tomb, as his nails scratch against the unyielding stone. 

This is from his own past, when Cazador locked him up for a year. The panic, shame, and fear pulse in Astarion’s body, unleashed from the small corner of his mind he’d locked those emotions into. 

“Why the hells have you brought me here, Gale? This isn’t what I asked to see!”

“No… but I thought it might serve as a reminder of where you came from. You seem to have forgotten… and subject others to similar fates and tortures, nowadays.”

Astarion hears the begging and pleading to the gods, the crying and scratching inside of the tomb, and his gut churns again. How something that happened years ago, that he’d shoved deep in his mind never to acknowledge again, could still rip such a reaction from an all-powerful Vampire Ascendent, he did not know. The elf begins to shake, flooded with the emotion of the memory. 

Had he really turned into an exact replica of his former master? Hadn’t he wanted to be better than Cazador?

“Had enough? Okay, onto the next one,” Gale says dryly, and then he snaps his fingers; both beings are, once again, pulled through the Weave.

Now they’re standing in The Duke’s parlor room… Astarion had been in this room just a time or two before, during some business negotiation or another. Then he sees Eirianwen, bursting through the door with one hand on her swollen belly. Gods above and below, was she carrying Wyll’s seed in this one? The thought alone made his skin crawl and his stomach churn in disgust. The Ascendant thought he might actually vomit up his dinner.

“Hurry, my love! We need to place the presents here for the others.”

Astarion’s silver eyebrows crinkle together as he listens to the voice responding to the sorceress from down the hallway, joined in by the giggles of a child. 

“We’re coming, darling. This little imp is just slowing me down a bit!”

Then, he sees himself walk through the door with a silver-haired, giggling toddler wrapped around his leg… but it’s not himself. This Astarion has pink skin, a beating heart, a wedding band on his hand, and a few more years on his face. 

Mortal… but how?

Mortal Astarion is carrying a bundle of presents that he places on the coffee table in the center of the parlor. The small child grins and puts a hand drawn card on top of the gifts. The card reads: ‘For Uncle Wyll, Auntie Euphemia, and the Ravengard Twins. Love, the Ancunins.”

Astarion feels his pulse thrumming in his ears as the scene plays out. Mortal Astarion envelopes Eirianwen in his arms and plants a soft kiss on her cheek. The child walks, on two unsteady legs, up to the sorceress and fists their hands into her dress. The version of Astarion runs his fingers along the swell of the woman’s abdomen before bending down and placing a kiss on her stomach. Then he crouches in front of the silver-haired, drooling child with a smile.

“Let’s go and join the others, shall we? Auntie Shadowheart and Auntie Lae’zel have a gift for you, my little love!” The father cheers, his arms opening to receive the child, who immediately steps into Astarion’s arms.

“Yay, daddy! Go!” The little babe cheers, as Astarion returns to standing. The child is clapping uncoordinated hands together, which causes both this version of Eirianwen and his mortal self to giggle in adoration. He watches as the sorceress takes this version of him by the hand and exits the parlor, headed towards a clamor of conversation filled with several familiar voices. 

The Vampire Lord tries to follow the little family, desperate to see how the scene continues, but he’s unexpectedly ripped from the scene and thrown back into the Weave with Gale.

“I wasn’t finished!” The Ascendent shouts in frustration, running his hands through curled hair.

Gale simply sighs and shakes his head at Astarion, before snapping his fingers and settling them into another scene entirely.

In this one, Eirianwen is a vampire. Not a vampire spawn, a true vampire. Astarion watches as she pulls her dress on, unabashedly taking in the familiar curves of the woman’s body before they’re covered up. The bedchamber door swings open, and the Ascendant turns to see another version of himself entering the room.

“My treasure, we’ve done it! We’ve secured educational and apprenticeship programs for the orphans from the Guilds as a show of good faith for our support and protection.”

Eirianwen’s vampire self runs to this better version of Ascendant Astarion, immediately enveloping him in a shockingly passionate kiss. Tongues twirl together in a familiar dance. It was enough to make even the Vampire Lord’s skin run hot as he imagined what it would feel like to have the woman on him like that again.

“I’ve just put on my clothes, my love.” she murmurs, her voice coy, as she lowers her gaze to her dress and slowly drops her shoulder out of the gown before returning her focus to her version of Astarion, “but perhaps you won’t mind helping me back out of them… I think that announcement is cause for a bit of… celebration.”

The scene quickly evolves into something overwhelmingly hot and heavy. Better Astarion pounces on the woman instantaneously, strong hands tearing at the laces of her dress in a frenzied pace. Eirianwen is giggling in delight as her version of the elf pushes her onto the bed with a sly grin. 

The Ascendant feels himself tingle with desire as he watches everything unfold. Just his other self rips off the woman’s underwear and is just about to plunge himself into the vampire version of Eirianwen, the Weave swirls around Gale and Astarion once more.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” The elf hisses as he glares at The God of Ambition.

“I know… steamy, right?” Gale responds, with a small chuckle, his eyes analyzing the strands of the Weave, “now, onto our final scene… this one is your… unfortunate future, should you continue down your same path, I’m afraid.”

The Ascendent soon sets his eyes on possibly the most gut-wrenching scene imaginable. There she is, standing before him, holding a stake that’s driven straight through his heart. Blood pools around the wound, drenching both himself and Eirianwen in splotches of scarlet. He’s trying to reach for her, to touch her face, to choke out something he cannot say. 

And then he’s gone, slumped on the floor, as Eirianwen holds him in her arms and lets out a bloodcurdling wail.  

The crying goes on forever. Her body's racking with sobs as she turns the corpse onto its back and throws herself over it, almost desperate to have his body close to hers. After what feels like an eternity, the sobs slow and her trembling hands come to his face before she plants a surprisingly tender kiss on his lips. Astarion notices, with some level of shock, bleeding wounds along the sorceress’s arms and neck. 

Bites. Had he really been the one to do that to her? 

“I really loved you, Astarion… I wish it hadn’t come to this. There was nothing between Wyll and me. Just two old friends, catching up… I’d wanted to be back home, I’d fled from my city for fifteen years after what happened between us. Wyll offered me a soft place to land and a kind transition back into society.

I was sure everything would be okay after all this time. That we could at least talk. But you didn’t come to speak to me, you ignored my scrolls, and then— why?”

Eirianwen’s voice cracks as the sobbing returns. She starts slamming her shaking fists into the corpse version of himself over and over and over and over. There is a dull thud pounding in his ears as he watches his ex-lover repeatedly drop her fists against his corpse’s chest.

The Ascendant sucks in a breath and turns back to the God, “I’ve seen enough, Gale! Take me home right now.”

“As you wish,” The God of Ambition murmurs, unbothered. With a final snap of Gale’s fingers, Astarion is back in his bed at the Palace and wrapped in silken, cerulean sheets.

“So?” Gale asks, lifting himself from where he is sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I need to talk to Ani… I need to speak with her. Tomorrow…” the Ascendant murmurs, his head still reeling as he tries to process everything he just saw. He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs a slow, belabored breath.

What would he even say to her, after all this time?

“I would agree. It's far past time for you to pursue a new beginning, Astarion," the God responds as the Weave starts to swirl around him in bright, crackling flares of azure. Gale begins to turn away and then pauses at the last minute, his focus settling back on the elf still sitting in bed.

“Oh... and Astarion? I know we were once friends, if you could really call us that… but don’t think this little show and tell was for free. I’ll be asking something of you, when the time comes.”

The Vampire Lord nods. Of course. It could never be that simple, could it? And just like that, Gale disappears in a spray of light, and Astarion is left alone once more.

No. It could never be that simple. The only simple truth in Astarion’s life was this: Eirianwen was and would always be his saving grace.

[crossdressingdeath]

Can I just... okay, there's something that's been percolating in my head ever since the Durgetash patch 6 crumbs dropped and I think I can finally put it into words. Because everyone was getting so mad about Durge (and it was about Durge, not Gortash; it was an origin character getting their backstory acknowledged in the game at a point where it should've been from the start, saying it was about Gortash is like saying... I don't know, any unique dialogue Cazador gets in Astarion origin runs is Cazador content) getting five or six new lines when Wyll got nothing and... well, personally I think that's a little silly, first because adding a few new Gortash lines to Durge runs would not be taking away from Wyll content (the two characters have different writers, VAs and mocap actors, for the most part they would not have been pulling from the same resource pool), but more importantly because... if you want to point at an origin character taking resources from Wyll, don't point at Durge. Point at Karlach.

I mean, think about it. Think about how the game runs with these two characters. You likely meet Wyll first unless you go out of your way to avoid speaking to him until you meet Karlach. He asks you to help him hunt down and kill a devil, and you go and you look and you find her and... now you're doing Karlach's quest. They interrupt Wyll's quest in the middle to do Karlach's quest. And she keeps piping up during the conversation with Mizora afterwards, and it turns out that Wyll got sent after Karlach to begin with because Karlach is Zariel's extra-special favourite mortal, and suddenly Wyll's sharing his post-quest transformation cutscene (something which I think we can all agree should be entirely about him) with a character who wasn't even playable until a ways into EA. You can't even properly commiserate with Wyll afterwards, you can only even be nice to him if you choose to read the lines that way; you spend more time chatting to Karlach about Wyll's transformation than you do Wyll! Wyll's act one quest gets almost completely taken over by Karlach, I'm honestly kind of surprised I haven't seen anyone else talking about it. Even him being turned into a devil is barely about him because Karlach's backstory is butting in! There is a reason why no other origins share villains, but where Karlach's connection to Gortash is overshadowed by Durge in a Durge run here she's overshadowing Wyll in every run except maybe (I say maybe because I haven't done it) a Wyll origin.

And it gets even better! Remember how originally you couldn't save Karlach at all? Remember when it was death or mind flayer? Remember what Larian did when people complained about that? I'm fucking amazed I didn't see more complaints about that, given the number of complaints I saw about Durgetash getting five whole lines. Do you want to keep Karlach alive? Do you want to end the game with all your companions still breathing and reasonably happy? Well then fuck what you think is a good, happy and/or narratively satisfying ending for Wyll; you're packing him off to the Hells, because that's the only way to keep Karlach alive if you don't want to go with her (which you probably don't if you romanced someone other than her)! Like, I want you to really let that sink in; they made Karlach's survival completely reliant on how you end Wyll's quest. If you want Karlach to survive and don't want your character's epilogue to be "go to the Hells" (which, again, odds are most players don't) you have to end Wyll's quest accordingly. They could've put that into Karlach's quest! Give her an actual character arc (instead of the line-with-maybe-a-slight-curve she got) where you can encourage her to choose life and go to Avernus on her own or... I don't know, go with Dammon or something! Especially since as it turns out Zariel apparently doesn't actually give a shit, which the PC should be able to point out given Zariel's track record in this game of giving barely enough of a shit to make a token effort at getting Karlach back or killing her! But instead the climax of Wyll's whole damn arc has to share space with Karlach. Maybe not in the game's text proper, but from a meta perspective? If the player doesn't want to go to the Hells but wants Karlach to live, that's likely going to be if not the deciding factor in Wyll's quest then certainly a major one in—as with the transformation cutscene—a situation that should be entirely about Wyll.

I don't really know how to end this. I guess... I fully admit part of it is me being super petty about the sheer number of posts I saw getting mad about Durgetash getting literally five or six lines (crumbs! Barely crumbs! Crumbs that didn't impact Wyll in any way!), but it also really is like... people complained about that but I haven't seen anyone complaining about how Larian warped Wyll's whole story around Karlach. And I think more people should complain about it. Wyll's story got dragged off-course the second they started rewriting it, but they wrapped the whole thing around Karlach when they made her an origin companion to the point where at times it feels like Wyll's playing second fiddle in his own arc, and that's... well, honestly it just pisses me off.

[wasteful-sam]

Worthy [Part 1]

Synopsis:

While on their way to Baldur's Gate, Rolan and his siblings have to settle in Emerald Grove, as the lands are overrun with goblins and mysterious cultists. It is here that he meets a peculiar drow, and the story of their unlikely relationship starts to unfold.

Tags:

Slow burn, romantic, ongoing, F/M, Rolan/female drow.

Disclaimer:

This will be a long one, covering the overall BG3 story and storyline of some of the origin characters. Thus, spoilers ahead for anyone who hasn't completed the game.

The story is a slow burn that is bound to end up explicit, so, yeah. (~‾⌣‾)~

Also, English is not my first language, and I apologize in advance if the wording may sound odd somewhere in the text.

All in all, I wrote this to relax a cluttered mind, but I genuinely hope that the fic will be enjoyable for you! Yours truly, Sam.

[AO3 Link]

+++

Worthy

Part 1 | Chapter 1

The strangers

The day they arrived - chaos erupted in the Emerald Grove and, subsequently, his life. That bunch of self-important, nosy do-gooders. And to think, by this time, Lia, Cal, and he could have been halfway to Baldur's Gate. Of course, deep down, Rolan chastised himself – he should have been firmer with his siblings. After all, when did the authority of strangers become more important to them than their brother? Was he that pathetic?

"No," Rolan's ego violently interrupted his ever-emerging self-doubt, at least for now. His mind returned to earlier today when it all started.

+++

The reverberating roar of a horn was the first sign of trouble. The three tieflings were chatting by the beach when the sound startled them.

"What in the hells!?" Cal exclaimed, frantically turning his head around.

"Something's at the gate, come quick," Lia cried out, rushing up the hill.

"Stop!" Rolan hissed angrily, trying to catch up with his sister. He finally grabbed her arm, bringing her to a halt near the Sacred Pool. Cal joined them shortly, breathing heavily.

"Are you out of your mind? Where do you think you are going? You two – get back to the beach and hide somewhere among the cliffs," the tiefling wizard whispered angrily.

She pulled her hand from Rolan. "We can help protect the grove. We must at least warn the others!"

"I think they already know," her younger brother mumbled. Other tieflings around them were visibly nervous, trying to figure out what was happening. Even the druids stopped their ritual, looking up toward the grove gates.

For a couple of minutes, the siblings were silent, listening carefully. Lia was the one to break the silence.

"Let's at least come closer, can't hear much from here. I promise we will run to the beach as fast as possible at the first sign of trouble," she added, noticing Rolan's growing frustration.

"Fine," he sounded defeated. "I'll go first. If I say run – don't you dare disobey."

At this point, Rolan figured that whoever attacked the grove would have broken through already if they had sufficient manpower.

After all, scouts who kept watch on the grove's walls could be barely considered fighters. Likely, just a couple of goblins stumbled upon their hideout.

He signaled Cal and Lia to stop as they passed Aaron's make-shift merchant post. From there, they could somewhat see the commotion on the bridge and hear the tinkling of swords and spells being cast. The siblings didn't dare to speak or move – all froze in anticipation. 

The wait felt like an eternity. Finally, they heard Zevlor's command to open the gates. Rolan relaxed his posture. The usual smirk graced his face as he saw Aradin and his thugs running through the entrance. "Of course, these idiots have something to do with this," he concluded.

To his surprise, a group of strangers sneaked into the grove shortly after Aradin. Well, he knew at least one of them – that pompous Blade of Frontiers. Wyll, was it? He stumbled upon the grove a couple of days ago and has become somewhat of a local fencing teacher. And most tieflings found his company quite enjoyable. "No wonder these simpletons hang onto his every word – all they need is just a couple of embellished fairytales to deem someone a hero," Rolan scoffed to himself.

But no matter. He didn't intend on making new acquaintances. It was time for a serious talk with his family.

+++

The outsiders intervened just as he was arguing with Lia. The group was passing by when Rolan tried to convince his siblings to leave the grove as soon as possible.

"What's the point in blades and spells if we don't bloody use them?! We should stay. These people aren't fighters, we can help!" she exclaimed angrily.

The group stopped and exchanged glances. Rolan had no doubt they had heard most of the arguing.

"You should all stay. A single blade could make a difference," said the silver-haired drow. She glanced confidently at Lia.

Satisfied, Lia turned her head to Rolan. At this point, he knew the battle was lost - once Lia sets her mind on something, it's impossible to get through to her.

"Fine, we will stay! If we survive, it will make for a good story, I suppose," he growled, intentionally paying no attention to five prying strangers.

"We were told you have a healer. Do you know where she might be?" inquired another woman with black braided hair. Her tone was colder and tired.

"I think she will be in the chambers by the pool. It's where most druids spend their days. Just head down the stairs, you'll see," wedged in Cal.

"Please, you think the druids will have time for strangers that appeared on their doorstep out of thin air?" Rolan finally graced the group with an arrogant stare. "They are one ritual away from exiling us all from this gods-damned place. What makes you so special?"

"I don't know, maybe the fact that we slaughtered a bunch of goblins outside the gate will play a role?" replied a pale elf, injecting as much arrogance into his words.

"Alright, calm down. We will deal with all that one step at a time," the drow spoke again, placing a hand on the elf's shoulder. "Thank you for your help! I'm Nimriel, and these are Shadowheart, Gale, Lae'zel, and Astarion." She pointed at each of them individually, branding an enthusiastic smile. The others, however, weren't as excited.

The tiefling woman couldn't help but smile in response, "I'm Lia, this one's Cal, and the grumpy one is Rolan."

"Nice to meet you," Cal cautiously said, while Rolan rolled his eyes and murmured, "Pleasure."

"The fight was intense, I see," Lia noted, looking at the group's dirty, bloodied clothes.

"You can say that again," the drow chuckled. "One of the bastards has thrown a bottle of grease at me, and I tumbled down the hill like the most graceful sack of turnips! Then a worg charged straight at me…"

"Nimriel, we don't have time to chat right now," the black-haired woman interrupted.

"Right… Sorry, we really got to go," the drow nodded apologetically. "Thanks for the directions."

And with that, the group bid their hasty farewells and sprinted towards the druids' chambers. The tieflings could hear how the green-skinned woman – Rolan, although surprised, was sure it was a githyanki – was scolding the drow for being too open with the "horned ones."

"What an odd bunch," Cal said quietly, watching them leave.

"They certainly are. We should keep away from them."

"What? Why? They've slayed the goblins! Who knows if Zevlor and Aradin would've managed on their own," Lia raised her tone again, her annoyance growing. "They can help us fend off the next assault!".

"Don't be ridiculous. Their arrival at the grove at the right time was either a strange coincidence or a malicious plan. Think, Lia. When was the last time you saw a friendly drow? Hells, druids killed a drow who was snooping around just last week! Not to mention a githyanki amid them," Rolan sounded firm and confident.

"If we go by your logic, all tieflings are just wretched, evil fiends," his sister paused, taking a deep breath, "I'll talk to whomever I want; it is not for you to decide."

Rolan scoffed. Arguing with Lia felt exhausting at this point. He thought she was still young and naïve, not used to being approached with anything other than concerned stares and rudeness from non-tieflings.

"I'm… I'm with Lia here," Cal gently broke the silence. "Let's just see what happens."

"Of course you are. Two troglodyte peas in a pod. Do whatever you want," Rolan turned away from his siblings, pondering.

He couldn't let anything happen to them, not when their future was at stake. At that moment, he decided to watch the strangers closely. He was determined to confirm they were no threat.

+++

Rolan saw the despised group of outsiders a couple more times that day. They were walking around the grove, talking to tieflings and druids. At one point, they approached the Blade of Frontiers, who was training kids in fencing. Judging by their body language, they have reached some kind of agreement.

Later, the tiefling wizard noticed the strangers walking into Zevlor's chambers. They left the grove shortly after, taking Wyll with them. "Maybe this is the end of the unfortunate encounter," Rolan thought, relief washing over him. Still, he wasn't convinced.

+++

He approached Zevlor later that evening. The older tiefling was just leaving his chambers to get some fresh air.

“Good evening, Zevlor. Although it could have been better if not for the goblins' stench outside the gate," Rolan said casually, a note of arrogance still evident in his voice.

"True. What Aradin did was reckless. What's more infuriating is he left Halsin behind. Who knows what's become of the druid." 

This revelation startled Rolan. Indeed, with all these worries about strangers, he didn't even realize that the bear druid didn't return. More bad news – Halsin was a competent warrior and one of this grove's most significant tiefling allies. The other druids had even more incentive to kick them out without him.

"We were lucky that Wyll and those travelers helped us out. Although our position at the grove gets shakier," Zevlor continued.

"Oh yes, I saw them getting a private audience with you," the wizard tiefling responded sarcastically. "Mind sharing what they wanted?"

Zevlor glanced at Rolan’s face, trying to find the source of his concern. He smiled gently: “I know the drow’s presence may worry you. I was surprised as well at first. All you need to know is that they are not a threat to us. In fact, they can prove quite helpful in the future.”

“Riiiight,” Rolan crossed his arms. “And you know that after talking to them, what, half an hour at most? You are not being rational about this!”

Zevlor wasn’t perplexed by Rolan’s reaction. He’s grown accustomed to the tiefling’s fiery temperament. “I know enough to place my trust in them. They didn’t have to help us fight goblins. And they surely had nothing to gain from saving Komira and Locke’s daughter from Kagha’s wrath,” he concluded calmly.

The sly fox must’ve had some kind of a deal with strangers. He wasn’t shy of sweet-talking people into doing what’s best for his tiefling tribe. Although Rolan was fond of this quality of Zevlor’s, he still thought the old paladin’s judgment was clouded.

With that, he left Zevlor be. He needed to process all the new information.  

+++

"Hello! Apologies, do you maybe have hyena ears stashed somewhere? I'd gladly buy, seeing as none of the merchants here are in possession of those," a cheerful male voice interrupted Rolan's concentration.

Annoyed, he looked up to see who had disturbed his reading. Of course, those pesky outsiders returned! One of them – a human, most certainly – was talking to Cal while Lia stood near, puzzled. The other two – githyanki and drow – were buying something from Dammon, whose "forge" was nearby.

"Hyena ears?" Cal was confused. "What for?"

"Why, for a potion of speed, of course!" the man stated as if it was common knowledge. "My supplies are humiliatingly sparse at the moment."

"Oh, um…, no, sorry."

"Well, it never hurts to ask," the man shrugged, his voice still friendly and pleasant.

"Any luck, Gale?" his two companions were approaching as they finished their business with Dammon.

"I have asked around, and no one seems to have what we need," he replied.

"No matter. We have no use for your magical trinkets. My sword alone will be enough to cut through weaklings of this plane," githyanki replied confidently.

"Lae'zel. Calm down a bit, will you?" the drow hissed, looking at her companion with a plea. She then turned to tieflings, her tone rapidly shifting to cheerful. "Don't mind that, please, she's just tired… Soooo, what's…new?"

"Oh, nothing much," Lia said cautiously, yet a faint smile appeared on her face. She clearly liked talking to the drow, Rolan thought to himself.

"Not that we have much to do here, just chatting, trying to make ourselves useful. Say, but you've been busy! I heard you've helped Arabella yesterday," she continued. "I knew you could turn things around here."

"Oh, you mean the little girl? The whole situation was disgusting. That Kagha is one nasty toad," the drow answered, "I thought druids would be more understanding and peaceful. What's their deal?"

"The same "deal" that everybody has with tieflings," Rolan finally had enough of this whole conversation, longing for peace and quiet. He looked directly at her, smirking. "You should know, Underdark dweller. And if you don't - ask around your Menzoberranzan cronies."

The drow looked hurt for a moment, returning his glance. Rolan's comment definitely struck a nerve. However, she promptly recovered, saying, "Yes, I know, although I'm not from the Underdark. I'm sorry I offended you."

Her response made Rolan think. It was not a reaction he expected from a drow.

"No, you didn't!" Lia exclaimed quickly. "Rolan's just an old grump. Don't mind him."

"I'm not grumpy! And not that old either!" the tiefling wizard heard himself exclaiming. He could rarely leave the teasing of his siblings unanswered. He noticed the drow giggled, reacting to his outburst. "What's so funny?!"

"Just didn't expect such a serious-looking man to react so childishly. You really are not that old," Nimriel giggled again.

"Sounds about right," Cal pointed out cheerfully, and he and Lia were now grinning.

"Anyway," Gale interjected, trying to change the topic. "Why are you in such a hurry to reach Baldur's Gate?"

After the brief episode of humiliation, Rolan felt an urgent need to brag. "My apprenticeship with Lorroakan begins shortly, I cannot be late. Yes, that Lorroakan, the greatest wizard in Baldur's Gate," he said arrogantly.

"I've heard the name before! Young man, yes? Lives in the Ramazith's Tower in the lower city?" Gale sounded excited.

"The very same."

"I heard he's a bit of a cad, but you say he's a powerful wizard?"

"Of course he is! The greatest spellcaster along the Sword Coast! As if I'd settle for a lesser mentor."

"In that case, I would very much appreciate it if you could arrange an introduction should we reach the city," Gale suggested, turning his head to Nim.

"So you are a wizard?" Nimriel wondered, staring Rolan up and down. "Should've figured by the way you seem to enjoy the sound of your own voice."

"I'm... what!?" the tiefling tensed up.

"Sorry, sorry, I had to get even," the drow raised her hands lively. All this sounds fine to me. Could you?" She looked at Rolan, smiling gently. Something about her expression made his heart skip a beat, but he chose to ignore the feeling.

"If it is powerful acquaintanceships you are after, look no further than yours truly. Few can match me in either magic or talent. In years to come you will boast of this meeting. I can assure you," he bowed his head slightly, breaking their short eye contact.

"Enough chatter already, we don't have all day," githyanki intervened.

"Right, we'd better go. Sorry, it was nice talking to you all. Will definitely see you again," with her last sentence, she squeezed Lia's shoulder a little, making her giggle.

"That was quite embarrassing," Cal nudged the tiefling wizard as they watched the trio leave.

"It would be if I cared," Rolan nonchalantly opened his book.

"Tell me, when did you become like this? So I know the exact age when I turn into a joy-sucking prick." "You live and learn, brother."

Chapter 2

Mistrust

It has been a week. Rolan still struggled to figure out what made this group of seven blockheads join forces. Yes, seven! On day three, they showed up at the grove with a tiefling, who was even more loud and obnoxious than the drow. And the Blade of Frontiers now had a set of horns growing out of his head for some reason!

Although they were sparse on details of their alliance, the group certainly loved bragging about their adventures. At least, Rolan saw it that way. All it took was for tiefling children to take a liking to strangers after those saved a boy from harpies.

Word of the rescue spread fast, and soon, the whole grove knew what had transpired. Tieflings warmed up to the outsiders, wanting to learn more about their new-found idols.

Rolan also listened to the strangers' stories, but not because he was fascinated by them, like others. He analyzed and pondered their motives, making mental notes on each. Some remained a complete mystery to him, like the silent half-elf and irritable githyanki, who barely interacted with the grove's dwellers.

Others, however, were either loud, chaotic, or pompous. The wizard named Gale was, perhaps, the most tolerable of the bunch. As a man of considerable intelligence, he was grounded enough to keep his companions from being too ignorant or obnoxious. Although, his constant monologues of self-importance grew old very fast.

But by far, the two outsiders he involuntarily interacted with the most were tiefling and drow. They talked frequently with Lia, perhaps due to similarities in character.

That drow, Nimriel, was especially odd. Whenever visiting the grove, it seemed like her mission was to come up and talk to every person she could see. It was as if she was afraid to be forgotten about. Or was sniffing out information.

Once, after Lia's friendly chatter with the two, Rolan swallowed his pride and asked directly what they were talking about.

"You're not subtle at all," his sister replied condescendingly.

"Maybe I'm just curious, ever considered that?" Rolan shrugged.

"Oh, sod off. You're using "the parenting tone." It's like Elturel all over again. Your paranoia is getting annoying. They are regular travelers."

"Travelers?"

"Well, yeah, met up on the road to Baldur's Gate and decided to travel together for safety. Like we did with Zevlor's group."

"It's not comparable," the wizard shook his head.

"Why?"

"Alright, let me spell it out to you: an aggressive githyanki, a monster hunter, a suspicious drow, and a runaway from the hells – all in one group. And the other three are quite shady, too, if you ask me."

"You know about Karlach?" Lia asked, surprised.

"It's easy to get Dammon yapping after a couple of beers," Rolan replied nonchalantly, checking his well-manicured claws, "But you're missing my point here. They are all very different, some are natural enemies, in fact. Yet, they travel together? All of them need to get to Baldur's Gate and they just met on the road like that? There's something behind all of this."

Lia sighed. She knew Rolan all too well, and such outbursts were expected. Her brother was living in a mind-made cage, keeping her and Cal locked as well. Lia knew he was trying to protect them, but treating his siblings like children was getting out of hand.

"I don't know what to tell you. They're just going around, clearing their way to the city, killing monsters, looting…. We could've learned something from them."

"Like what?" Rolan rolled his eyes, "Living as mercenaries?"

"How about just "living" for starters? We'd be better off with money if we'd take a risk once in a while," Lia insisted.   

"Why risk if we're already on the way to our future home?" Rolan softened up a little. "I promise you, Lia, once I'm the apprentice, you can forget all these constant worries."

"I know, I know," she looked at him, calming down. "And you promise to relax a little, too?"

"I won't be relaxing. Wizardry is hard work, you know."

"I meant your attitude."

"The attitude is what kept us going for so long," he replied smugly. "But yes, I'll definitely be more… "relaxed," as you say."

"And you won't mind me joining the Flaming Fist then?"

The wizard bit his tongue. It was a sore topic for them. "We'll see," he replied.     

+++

"Hey, Rolan!" the drow approached him nonchalantly the very next afternoon.

"Mhhm."

"Reading as always?"

"How observant."

"Seems like your favorite book! What's it about?"

"Nothing that would be of interest to you."

"You know me well, I see?" There was no malice in Nim's voice, only teasing.

He finally looked at her, "You don't strike me as someone who practices magic. I see you more as an expert magpie."

"I am interested, actually. The more we travel, the more I learn that swords and cantrips don't always quite do it in fights. I even asked Gale to teach me some of the simpler spells. But to no avail. I just don't have a talent for it like you two."

Nimriel sounded sincere, which took Rolan aback. Was she trying to sweet-talk him, or did she genuinely believe his prowess without needing any proof? He simply didn't know what to reply.

"Can I take a look at your book? I'm just curious," she smiled, breaking the silence. The drow turned her charm to the maximum, looking straight at him. Nim couldn't help it - she wanted desperately to be liked by everyone around, even this irritable tiefling.

"Suit yourself," the wizard passed his book without much regret.

Now that the spells grabbed the drow's attention, he could take a closer look at her without being discreet. Her armor was ripped in several places, blood stains adding colors of terror to an otherwise dull leather outfit. Fresh cuts could be seen where her lilac-grey skin wasn't covered by clothes. The drow was still smiling as she read his book, her pretty, animated face dissonating with the disheveled attire.

"What happened to your ear?" the worrying tone of Rolan's voice surprised him.

"Oh," she automatically reached to her left ear, "Nasty burn, huh? Luckily, it was the only one. We got to the mercenaries' hideout yesterday, and those weasels had their lair stuffed with explosive barrels. Long story short – a fight ensued, things got fireballed, and – here's the result," Nimriel told the story so nonchalantly as if describing her favorite recipe.

"Looked even worse yesterday, but Shadowheart fixed me up well. With her skills, it will subside soon, but until then – I own of the ugliest ear in the grove," she giggled, but her expression betrayed her, showing how conscious she was about the burn.

"It's not that bad," Rolan replied, but he quickly realized how it sounded. "I mean, it doesn't flaw your face much. It still looks…presentable," he added apologetically, forgetting how to speak normally.

"Aha, I see the mighty wizard is also very skilled in reassuring," Nim laughed. She resumed reading, not noticing Rolan's embarrassed scowl.

They've spent some time in silence. While Nimriel was looking through pages, he continued unwittingly studying her face. Slender, blessed with elegant features, she would look like those literary portrayals of royalty if not for her big light-violet eyes, ragged shoulder-length haircut, and battle cuts.

"Too difficult for me still," Nimriel's voice yanked Rolan out of his intense contemplations. "I think I need to learn to work with scrolls first," she closed the book, reaching to give it back, but froze. Rolan was looking at her intently, his arms crossed.

"Why are you nosing round the grove?" he asked with authority.

"What do you mean?" Nim tried to master an innocent smile, but the wizard caught her off-guard.

"Your pleasantries won't work on me. You know exactly what I mean."

"Didn't realize that people must only be cordial for a reason. But then again, the cordiality expert knows best," she sighed. "What's your problem?"

"There are talks about strange cultists roaming around, goblins taking captives to their camps… And in the midst of this all, you appear here, out of nowhere. Snooping around, making friends left and right. It is… peculiar."

"You know a lot for someone closed off in the grove."

Rolan smirked, "Unlike you, I don't have to stick my nose into every conversation to learn what I need."

"This is exactly what you do now," Nim's tone became tense. "I don't think we've given you any reason to mistrust us," she shoved the book into his arm and turned around, "Sorry for distracting you. It won't happen again."

As he watched the drow walking away, Rolan shook his head. He rarely felt bad about giving someone a piece of his mind. Why now, all of a sudden? 

+++

It all ended before anyone in the grove even realized something was happening. The adventurers have taken down Kagha. Apparently, they found proof of her conspiring with Shadow Druids and confronted her in the druids’ chambers. As a result, Kagha and other Shadow Druids that sneaked into the grove laid cold on the stone floor. The ritual was swiftly stopped, putting the worries of refugees to an end.

“Serves her right,” Rolan heard his brother talking excitedly to Danis and Bex. “That witch would rather cut all our throats than let us stay!”

“We are lucky that other druids came to their senses,” Bex replied. “Maybe they will even help us next time goblins come here!”

“Now, now, don’t hex it,” Danis gently squeezed her hand. 

“Let me dream a little,” she kissed her husband’s cheek.

“Hey, Lia! What’s the news? Have you seen them yet?” Cal exclaimed, seeing his sister approaching.

“We exchanged a few words, but they were in a hurry. Looked pretty tired,” she sighed.

“Pity. I’d love to thank them personally. Maybe even bake something to celebrate,” Bex glanced at Lia. “You think they’ll come back?”

“Karlach definitely will once she hears you promised a hot meal,” Lia snickered.

Rolan listened to their conversation, his face emotionless. But deep within, a shift had occurred. Perhaps he was glad to be wrong about someone’s intentions for the first time in his life.

+++

No one heard from the group for the next few days before their sudden return. They came through the grove's gates nonchalantly, as if they were regular residents. Of course, nobody in the grove knew the burden the adventurers had carried for two weeks. For how much some of them talked and interacted with refugees, they remained a mysterious seven.

The group made their regular rounds, eventually coming to Dammon for supplies. It didn't take long for a friendly conversation to start, with all the regulars among tieflings joining in.

Rolan was there as well, his usual silent self. He would sometimes look at Nim while she chatted lively with the others. The tiefling wizard still didn't figure out what he would tell her. He will not be apologizing, of course not! But he didn't want to end it all on a sour note.

She finally caught the tiefling's glance and smirked, nodding. A wave of panic hit Rolan, but he tried keeping his composure. The wizard gestured Nimriel to come aside for a talk, to which she agreed.

"Hey there," Nim said casually, her brow raised.

"Listen. The last time we spoke…"

"No-no-no," she interrupted quickly. "The last time we spoke, you glared straight at me. I believe I deserve the same treatment now".

"Alright," he straightened his pose, looking into her eyes. "I was harsh. I had my reasons to distrust you. But my concerns proved unfair," Rolan paused, trying to find the right words. It was hard looking at Nim. The tiefling could see that she was quite enjoying his vain attempts at explaining himself. A large black eye she got was quite distracting as well.

"You did well for the grove, and I was unjust."    

"What an intricate way to say you are sorry," her tone was soft with a smudge of teasing, "Don't worry about it."

"Just like that?"

Nim shrugged, "It's not a first for me. I'm a drow, remember? You should know."

The tiefling felt embarrassed. She even remembered the exact words he threw at her back then. And Nimriel noticed that.

"Hey," she said softly, "Can't we just forget it and start getting along? I hate making people feel all bad."

"I can assure you, it's nothing of that sort," Rolan blabbered, averting his eyes.

"Let's be frank, it's written all over your face," Nim giggled, "You are redder than usual."

"This is just fantastic," the tiefling sounded defeated. However, a feeling of relief began to settle inside: "For your information, it's just hot in here, hence the color change."

"Suuuure, keep telling yourself that."

They chatted for a little while before Nimriel left for her camp. Some of her companions, however, stayed.

The group's elf and tiefling were talking with others by the Dammon's "forge." Rolan joined in on their conversation soon after.

"The swamps were awful," Astarion complained. "The smells, the bugs, the dirt! I'll need a full wardrobe change once we reach any half-decent townlet!"

"Oh, come on! You are so dramatic. The nature was still beautiful there!" Karlach said gleefully. "Anything's better than hells!".

"Lucky for me, I won't be comparing anytime soon," the elf replied, supporting an innocent banter.

"How are things at the camp?" Dammon interrupted. Has my old workbench found a use?"

"Yes, thank you! Things are fine, more or less." Karlach sounded a bit apologetic. "We had a small setback, but overall…"

"I wouldn't call the brawl a small setback," Astarion interrupted playfully. "It was glorious!"

"What are you two talking about?" Lia wondered.

"Lae'zel and Nim got in a fistfight, and…"

“Astarion!” Karlach grunted.

"What? It's all fine now, anyway. Let me enjoy my "socializing-outside-the-camp" time!" Astarion shrugged, putting on the theatrics. "Anyway, you know how Lae'zel can be, with all her "I'll cut you down-s and slash you in-s." Well, she didn't quite like one of our plans, and she wanted to leave. Nimriel, predictably, started to talk her out of it. And the gith had it – ripped her armor off and took a fighting position. "A weakling such as yourself won't be able to land a single hit on me!" Astarion tried to imitate Lae'zel's crude delivery, "You want me to stay? Prove your worth!". Oh, how we all gasped when Nim threw her armor to the ground, too!"

"Oh, gods," Lia interrupted, worry growing in her voice. "Why didn't you stop them?"

"And miss the show?" the elf glanced at her like the tiefling was mad. "Honestly, the only thing that could've made it better is mud brawl. But, alas..."

"Cut it out," Karlach rolled her eyes.

"Alright, alright! So, fists started swinging left and right. Screaming, arguing, the spectacle! To my surprise, Nim even managed to land a few hits on the green devil! But the results were obvious from the start – Lae'zel knocked her out – straight in the eye!" he froze in a dramatic pose.

"Aaand?!" even Dammon was invested at this point, dropping the short sword he worked on. "Did githyanki leave?"

"No," Karlach replied calmly. "In the end, Lae'zel admitted that Nim was stubborn enough to make her stay. Although, I had to knock her out and tie her to a tree first," she grinned bashfully. "They made peace for now."

"You are one twisted group of individuals," that's all Rolan could say.

"Believe me, you don't know the half of it," Astarion shook his head, simpering. 

Chapter 3

The night at the Sacred Pool

The moon was full and inviting that night, laying its silver light on the grove. Shadows danced among the trees, creating a tapestry of light and dark on the forest floor. A soft breeze whispered through the branches, carrying the earthy scent of moss and pine.

If only Rolan could enjoy it. He hadn’t slept properly since the whole debacle at the druids’ chambers. The anxiety of not making it to Lorroakan on time laid heavy on him. The future at Baldur’s Gate is what his family deserves. He couldn’t afford to let them down. He sat near the Sacred Pool for the last few nights, working tirelessly on his spells. “Why waste time laying on a bedroll if I can’t sleep anyway,” he thought.

The dawn was close, and the tiefling heard the sound of bushes whirling somewhere nearby. It startled his sleep-deprived mind, and he called, “Who’s there?”

“Huh? Rolan, is that you?”

The tiefling squinted, looking in the direction the voice was coming from. He stood up, his yellow eyes piercing the dark. Someone’s figure was emerging from around the trees. At this point, Rolan thought the lack of sleep had driven him insane. It was Nim walking towards him. The drow was also squinting, holding a batch of apples in her arms.

“Nimriel?” he asked in disbelief with a hint of annoyance. “What…what are you doing here? And what’s with the apples?”

“Um…it is a little embarrassing,” she smiled confusedly. “Can I come closer?”

“Can you?” now his voice sounded almost mockingly. “Well, why not?”

As she approached, Rolan realized something dreadful and swiftly turned his head away.

“Why in the hells are you walking around here in your undergarments?” he hissed.

“Shit! I’m… well, I didn’t expect anyone to be up this early. I got hungry and thought I could quickly sneak in here for some apples,” she gabbled, walking towards him.

Nim stopped near the tiefling, close enough to see his face in the light of a small lantern the wizard brought. She didn’t quite know what she was doing – frankly, a night stroll for apples was just an excuse to clear her head. No matter how positive she tried to be, the inner worry that her new-found exciting life could end as promptly grew stronger day by day. The worst part was that she forbade herself from sharing her fears with the group. They were, after all, Nimriel’s first semblance of friends. And losing them was even scarier than dying to a tadpole.  

And now, here she was – staring at the half-turned face of a tiefling whom she found pretty extraordinary. To her, interactions with Rolan mostly felt amusing – the serious, snobby demeanor contrasted too much with his short-tempered behavior. Why not use this distraction right now, Nim thought.

The situation they found themselves in started to feel very comical. Nimriel snickered, biting into one of the apples. “Did your head stuck?”

“It’s called having manners, being appropriate. Such concepts might be foreign to you, of course,” Rolan sounded irate, his head still turned away from her. He then looked around, searching for something. Getting no results, he lowered his voice as if embarrassed. “I… can offer you my shirt if you don’t mind.”

“I see you take this “having manners” thing seriously,” Nimriel shook her head playfully. However, she felt intrigued – she was sure the tiefling would just shoo her away from there. This was quite a nice gesture, “Alright, I will entertain it. Take it off.”

Rolan felt his skin tingling as he undressed his shirt. “Did she have to phrase it like that?” he thought.

Nim slipped into it with no issue, the white shirt barely covering her upper thighs. She quickly plopped onto the stone bench near the pool, chewing on the apple. Rolan sat on the opposite side of the bench, keeping the distance.

“Well, you seem quite nonchalant,” he broke the silence awkwardly.

“Why shouldn’t I be? It’s just you,” Nim mumbled without bothering to swallow her food first. “Or what, you want to scold me for stealing apples or something?”

“Never mind.”

“Oh, it’s about this?” the drow gestured her chin down to her body. “As I said, I didn’t expect anyone to be awake. Why bother dressing? Besides, I can take on anyone in the grove,” she paused, thinking. “Or scream for Karlach to help, this works too.”

“Sure,” he replied calmly, rolling his eyes slightly. “Are night apple runs a usual occurrence or…?”

“Nope, just couldn’t sleep,” Nim shrugged. “Am I distracting you?”

In truth, she was. But for some reason, Rolan didn’t really want her to leave. There was something soothing in talking with Nimriel like that when no one was around. It was as if they were sharing a special moment only they would know about. He quite liked this feeling.  

“Nothing important,” he replied after a short pause.

“Would you mind keeping me company for a bit, then? I don’t want to go to sleep just yet.”

Rolan felt relieved. He may be able to entertain this peculiar situation for a little longer. “Why, nobody among your companions wants to listen to your apple-munching at the dawn’s break?”

“Back to your usual “pleasant self”, I see,” she threw back at him. Although, the wizard could tell that Nim enjoyed his little jab.

“Learnt any new spells since we last spoke?”

“Nah, we were way busy these days.”

“Busy brawling with your githyanki friend?” Rolan pointed at her black eye.

“Oh,” she giggled uncomfortably. “I see my supreme leadership skills are talked about far and wide. What do you think? Does my face still look presentable?”

Nimriel didn’t expect the tiefling to consider her question seriously. He looked closely as if calculating every proportion and curve. She now had a chance to take a better look at his face, too. Surrounded by darkness, his features seemed as sharp as ever, with deep yellow eyes – dangerous but alluring. Her cheeks started to blush.

“I can’t think of anything that could spoil a face like yours,” Rolan replied quietly. But his condescending tone made a swift comeback. “Was getting punched worth it?”

“It was,” Nim was confident in her words. “I won the argument and kept her from making bad decisions.”

The wizard lifted his brow, considering her response. “Interesting perspective. So, you are a leader?”

“Apparently,” Nim chuckled. “Why? Don’t I look like one?”

“I can’t judge that, haven’t seen you in action,” the tiefling replied.

“Wow, no sarcasm or a snarky remark?” Nimriel said, tilting her head. “I mean, I wouldn’t call myself one. Sometimes, I think they’ve chosen me because they wouldn’t talk to each other otherwise.”

“At least you’re honest with yourself,” Rolan smirked.

“Ha-ha.”

“You wanted a snarky remark, didn’t you?”

“Anyway, why aren’t you sleeping?” the drow asked lightheartedly, changing the subject. She was munching on another apple.

“Well, I…,” he stumbled a little, “Just too excited about my apprenticeship. Such a powerful wizard as Lorroakan expects a lot from me. I have been working on composing my own spells and…”

While Rolan was blabbering on, Nim seized the opportunity to look him over. For a wizard, he was very well-built. The drow was particularly interested in the ridges covering his chest and torso. She has never seen anything like it up close. A hot, pulling feeling began to form in her stomach.

Rolan noticed her staring and stopped talking immediately. “What?” he asked in a cold tone.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, trying to look as uninterested as possible. “I was just curious. These protruding bones look so interesting, almost like an elaborate carving.”

“Whatever you say,” Rolan said, unimpressed. He turned his body sideways to escape the drow’s eyes. To him, any such glances from non-tieflings felt like mockery.

“I mean it,” Nim said seriously, looking into his eyes.

Rolan returned her glance, trying to figure out if the drow was trying to save face. He finally mellowed down, believing Nimriel. “It is a reminder, you know,” his voice now sounded grim. “Sins of our ancestors we are bound to carry with us forever. Marks of deformity and ugliness to instill fear and disgust into anyone that encounters us.”

“I’m sorry I disappointed you,” she paused. “It may not mean much coming from me, but I don’t see tieflings that way. And… I think I understand how you feel.”

Rolan considered her words. "Suppose you are," he nodded, remembering how he called her the Underdark dweller.

"Although," Nimriel hesitated, "It's not the same. The hate towards us is justified."

"It is," the tiefling replied quietly.

Nim shrugged, "It's the same everywhere. I appreciate your honesty, at least. Do you... does everyone else in the grove share this belief?"

"The fear of drow comes to tieflings as naturally as the fear of plague to any mortal man," Rolan looked at her, sighing, "But you don't have to worry."

"What do you mean?"

"It's obvious that they don't hate you."

Nimriel appeared relieved, "You think so?"

"It's pretty obvious that they grew to trust and like you. Many of them, at least," Rolan chuckled, "Gods, you're so shaken about this, it's quite something."

"It just... doesn't happen much," she smiled, "But I'm glad that somebody sees me just as a person."

The topic started to intrigue Rolan. Nimriel seemed as far from her kin as one could imagine. "I remember you mentioning not being from the Underdark?"

"The locals found me in the Forest of Mir. I might've been born in the Underdark, but I wouldn't remember – I was practically a newborn then."

"Hm. You were raised by humans, then?"

"Raised is a strong word," Nim mumbled uncomfortably. "But yes, I lived among humans for a little while. As you can imagine, they weren't fond of drow either."

Rolan decided not to ask further – the past clearly made Nimriel uneasy.

"And now, when it seems that I have found people who look past my heritage, it is too late," Nimriel quickly stopped talking, understanding she had already said too much. 

"How come?"

"I…," she faltered. I don't really know. I can't tell these days when the time is up." She glanced at him, and Rolan saw deep sadness in his eyes for the first time. "Life has suddenly become very complicated."

At that moment, the tiefling finally recognized Nimriel for what she was – unsure and anxious, just like him. She didn't find the strength to hide it behind the usual chattiness and smile. This is probably the reason she's not sleeping tonight.

"Life has always been complicated," Rolan responded calmly. "And it will become harder," he saw her eyes starting to glisten and couldn't help but put a hand on her shoulder. "But, as I discovered for myself, if you work and believe hard enough that you deserve something, you can find happiness in your struggles, even if for a short while."

"You are harsh, Rolan," Nimriel squeezed his hand. A feeble smile returned to her face.

"I speak only of what I know. You seem capable enough to withstand the treachery life presents."

Nim's brows furrowed as she studied his expression. "Well, if you speak of what you know…It explains a lot about your behavior."

Rolan smirked. "My behavior is not of your concern."

She didn't respond, but the wizard knew, judging by her expression, that Nimriel was onto him. She saw a breach in the walls of coldness and waspishness Rolan had been building all these years. The thought of her peeking through these walls terrified him.

Still, the tiefling couldn't look away from her, nor could she. Something happened between them tonight, something they both feared and wanted.

"It was nice talking to you, but I think it's time for me to get back to camp," it seemed Nim returned to her usual, cheerful self.

She stood up, taking his shirt off. Rolan didn't make an effort to turn away this time. Their conversation made him see Nimriel in a different light. She amazed him in a confusing way: both strong and vulnerable, open but full of mysteries still. Just like that, he fell for Nim. Maybe it happened even earlier, but Rolan wasn't interested in details.

"Have a good rest of the night," Nimriel returned his shirt, smiling. She pretended not to notice how Rolan looked her over. Her drow nature immensely enjoyed that.

"You too," he muttered, watching her leave. The tiefling wouldn't see Nim for a couple of days after this night. Her return, however, would bring about a change.  

Chapter 4

The paths split

He found himself standing amid a party, quite content. The outsiders, impressively so, managed to destroy the goblin camp – the final obstacle between tieflings and the road to Baldur’s Gate. And the party was, of course, in their honor.

Rolan now began to understand why Zevlor put such immense trust in them – they must’ve had an agreement all along. And so, does it mean that the adventurers were swords for hire? What a simple conclusion to a mystery he was pondering all these weeks.

The cheap wine relaxed Rolan’s mind. His annoyance subsided, and the tiefling wizard didn’t mind talking to his kin and even once-dreaded outsiders. He was chatting in the company of Wyll, Lakrissa, Shadowheart, and Astarion.

Although, Rolan was quite in and out of it, chasing Nimriel with his eyes. He didn’t have a chance to talk to her yet – the drow was prancing all over the place, talking, laughing, and hugging the temporary grove inhabitants she grew close to so quickly. Rolan was glad to see her this way. What the group achieved was well deserved.

“Say,” Wyll turned to Lakrissa, “We’ve got so many weapons from our goblin raid. I think it would be great if we leave you some, for your journey.”

“The heroic Blade of Frontiers strikes again,” Astarion rolled his eyes. “How are we supposed to get money for new armor?”

“So, you are saying that you don’t mind carrying a dozen short swords?” Wyll replied cheekily.

“Well…I was counting on my good friend Karlach…”

“How gallant of you,” Shadowheart remarked sarcastically.

“Oh, come on. We all know she is the might of the group”.

“Which makes you…?” Shadowheart raised a brow.

“Why, the charm, of course,” the pale elf said, elegantly fixing his hair.

“Bhaa,” the Blade burst out laughing. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“It’s not my fault that the truth hurts, darling,” Astarion smirked.

“So, what do you think of my offer, Lakrissa?” Wyll broke a short silence.

“Oh, right! Let’s see what you’ve got,” the tiefling replied. Shortly, the two departed to the west side of the camp to see the group’s loot stock.

“By the way,” Astarion turned to Rolan. “You are pretty well-versed in magic?”

“Of course. Why do you inquire?”

“How about necromancy?”

“Well,” Rolan paused. “I try to indulge in learning about all wizardry schools… Depends on what you want to know.”

“Interesting,” a foxlike smile graced the elf’s face. “You see, my friend, I’ve got this book…”

“Stop nagging the man with your stupid book,” Shadowheart interrupted. “Nothing good will come of it.”

“Don’t you have another three bottles to devour? Don’t interfere while grownups are talking,” Astarion replied condescendingly.

“We should’ve left you on the swamps,” the cleric gurgled.

“What’s the issue with the book?” Rolan asked. The prospect of showing off his knowledge entertained him quite a bit.

“I think it contains some powerful necromancy spells, but the book won’t let me read them. And it also toys with your mind somehow once you open it.”

“Hm… a cursed necromancy book, how original,” Rolan contemplated for a moment. “Your best bet is to find a skilled necromancer who will recognize what curses were bestowed upon it. Until then – DO NOT open the book and don’t cast any spells onto it, the attempts of purifying it will only backfire.”

“Well, that’s… something, at least,” Astarion sighed.

“Having fun?” Nimriel sneaked in on them, her face beaming.

“As much fun as this cheap wine can afford us to,” Shadowheart replied.

“Ah, niben Nim! Maybe you will be reasonable enough to talk Wyll out of gifting around our weapons?” the elf pouted at her.

“You volunteer to carry it all up the mountain pass, then?” she smirked.

“…I hate you people,” Astarion growled in defeat.

“And you make no effort to hide it,” the cleric added calmly.

“Look who’s talking!” the elf reacted. “For your information, I…”

“Come on, Rolan,” the tiefling was swiftly taken out of the argument as Nimriel grabbed his hand. “This will take them a while. Do you mind a short stroll?”

“Not at all.”

+++

She quickly led him down to the beach, so quickly, in fact, that Rolan didn’t have much time to protest. Not that he wanted to – her delicate hand, curled carelessly around his fingers, felt so nice. Nimriel finally stopped near the water, turning to him. She had the widest smile – Rolan wasn’t sure if wine was the reason.

“Didn’t expect you to come to the party, thought you’d be halfway to Baldur’s Gate by now,” the drow lifted her brow.

“I would’ve been if not for Cal and Lia. They desperately wanted to chat with their favorite hero,” that was a lie he came up with beforehand. Of course, the tiefling would not admit he also wanted to see her.

“And you didn’t?” Nim asked playfully. She definitely was inebriated.

“Oh, please. I nearly dispatched those goblins myself, but it seems you’ve managed well enough,” even in moments like this, Rolan’s arrogance took the better of him. And the wine didn’t do any favors either. “And why wield a masterwork where a butcher’s blade will do?”

“I certainly will not miss those nasty jabs of yours,” she replied, smirking.

“It’s sad to hear that you take reasonable remarks as jabs,” the tiefling swayed his head left, keeping eye contact. “I thought you thoroughly enjoyed them, given you came back for more on the daily.”

“You are insufferable,” Nimriel rolled her eyes. “But you were helpful…”

 “Helpful?” she caught him off-guard.

“Well, yes, that’s what I wanted to tell you. But let’s sit; I feel like I’m about to fall over.”

She plunged unceremoniously onto the sandy shore. Rolan followed hesitantly.

“I feel a bit foolish,” Nimriel finally said, looking at the water.

“Why?”

“I’m… I don’t have much experience talking to people. Or being sociable, for that matter,” she replied sheepishly.

“You must be joking. I doubt there is a single person at the grove you didn’t bombard with your chatter,” Rolan kept his smug tone.

“No, I mean, in general,” her tone sounded apologetic and a bit annoyed. I… At first, I thought you absolutely hated my guts. And, honestly, I’m still not quite sure if you don’t,” she giggled nervously. But I’m grateful for your advice the other night and that you spent time with me. I really needed to talk to someone then. It was a lucky coincidence that you were awake, really.”

Rolan didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t a norm for someone to thank him. And it came from Nimriel – a person he was so rude and unpleasant to. The sinking feeling started pulling on his chest. The tiefling glanced at her quickly and, to his terror, realized that Nim was also looking at him.

“You really are easy to impress if me talking does it for you,” Rolan heard himself replying. “And, just so we are clear. I don’t hate your guts. Your company is perfectly serviceable.”  

“That’s nice to hear,” the tiefling saw a modest smile returning to her face, feeling relieved. “Then can I ask you to give me your hand? Like this, palm facing me?”

Confused, Rolan obliged. Nim then lightly pressed her palm against his, comparing something. “Mm, that’s about right,” she mumbled and swiftly reached into her pocket, producing a small silver ring.  

“I thought you may put this to good use. It allows casting the dimension door. At first, I wanted to give it to Lia but figured – you are the wizard of the family, so it’s only logical,” Nimriel explained.

“I won’t take it,” Rolan replied adamantly.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t take handouts from anybody. All I need I always get myself.”

“But it’s not a handout… Just something that can help you on the road. I also gave Cal and Lia some supplies, and they didn’t mind.”

“You are not responsible for my family’s safety. I am. And I’m capable enough to provide it,” Rolan sounded calm but determined. His pride took the better of him.

“Guess I’ll be giving it to Lia then.”

“Oh, you are stubborn,” Rolan shook his head. “She wouldn’t even know how to use it.”

“Well, she wouldn’t need to. Her magnificent brother will cast 20 dimension doors for her at once, straight from here to Baldur’s Gate! Will be a pretty accessory, though.”

“Bitterness doesn’t suit you,” the wizard smirked.

“That’s right, bitterness is your most attractive feature, on par with arrogance, of course.”

Rolan began to understand why the group chose Nimriel as their leader. Something in the way she looks at you makes you feel and do as she pleases, as if she bewitches you with her genuineness and determination.

“Fine,” he sighed. “Maybe I am somewhat unreasonable here. If you still want to, I will take it.”

Nim’s features softened. Arguing with Rolan always felt like a small battle – frustrating but weirdly satisfying once it’s over. This tiefling was, in a way, special to her. Brutally direct but still closed off. Harsh but nice at times. Smart. Observant. Leary.

The worst part is that Rolan was right to be suspicious. She and her new-found friends were a danger to the grove, risking turning into mind flayers any minute. What would happen if the refugees, in whom she found so much comfort and joy, learned of this? Nimriel couldn’t bear to think of it. She was perceived as a monster all her life, only to be turned into another one.

“Give me your hand,” she said quietly. As Rolan obliged, Nim carefully placed the ring onto his pinky. The ring was relatively small and stuck right in the middle of the finger, where the bone protruded. The wizard looked at his hand, examining it.

“Fits well enough,” he muttered.

“Well, I’m glad we can end our little acquaintanceship on a positive note,” the drow said, relaxing.

 “Are you also leaving tomorrow?”

“Yes, heading for the mountain pass. And then Underdark, perhaps. Will be interesting to see the ancestral homeland for the first time, so to speak.”

“Hm. Take more food with you. The Underdark’s flora and fauna aren’t what you are used to eating here,” Rolan responded knowingly.

“Thanks, will keep that in mind. I was also thinking… AUGH!” she exclaimed suddenly, clutching her head.

“Nim? What’s wrong?”

“Just migraine,” she burbled apologetically, although Rolan could see an immense amount of pain in her expression.

“Can I help somehow?” he asked, worry in his tone.

“No, it’s fine. Can I just lean on you for a moment?”

“Sure.”

Nimriel leaned against the wizard’s shoulder, her eyes closed in pain.

“Has something similar happened before?”

“Yes, it will pass soon, don’t worry. Give me a couple of minutes. In the meantime, you can tell me something interesting, it will help”.

“Alright. What would you like to know?”

“Mm, I don’t know…what do you like to do for fun?”

Rolan thought for a minute. He genuinely couldn’t remember when was the last time he did something most people considered “fun activities”.

“Studying magic is fun for me,” he concluded, watching her, trying to figure out how she feels. “Don’t get me wrong, it is hard work, but once you learn a new spell, it is a divine experience. You can’t fathom how body and mind so generic can create these extraordinary things. And you only grow more eager, can’t stop wondering how far your potential can reach. I hope to unlock it fully one day.”

“You describe it so lovely,” Nimriel beamed through ache, her eyes still closed. “Please, continue.”

Rolan couldn’t help but smile back at her.

“Once I get to Baldur’s Gate and settle down, I’d also like to study stars.”

“Study stars?”

“Yes, they fascinate me truly. A perfect amalgamation of power and beauty. I have never felt such calmness as I saw them after leaving Elturel,” he looked at the sky to remind himself, if only just for a moment. “It would be nice to have a telescope and watch them after my study sessions with Lorroakan are over. How is your headache?”.

“Much better,” Nim replied. The tiefling felt she was drifting into sleep. “I wish I got to know this version of Rolan sooner,” she whispered.

His heart skipped a beat. A wave of bittersweet sadness covered Rolan’s mind.

“You still have time,” the tiefling murmured, pressing his tail gently against Nimriel’s back to keep her from falling. “You can visit me in Baldur’s Gate…I could…tell you more about the stars.”

“I’d love that,” was Nim’s last words before falling asleep.

Rolan sat in silence, looking at the sky. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her as if the mere act would cause her to vanish. Yet, Nimriel was still there – her form leaning against his shoulder, her breath a soft lullaby in the stillness of the night.

If only they’d met another time, another place, the tiefling thought. Not at the most turbulent point of his life, when he has nothing to show for himself, nothing to be proud of. She is so kind to him. But then again, she is like that with all the tieflings. To her, he must be just another face in the crowd. A bitter, arrogant face at that. He is a fool – to fall for someone that easily. Pathetic. But it will be over tomorrow – they will go their separate ways, and he will likely never see Nim again. Good. Time shall pass, washing away the regrets of what could have been. He must take care of the family at all costs. He can think of his own wants and desires after. It is decided.

…But the dreaded tomorrow hasn’t come yet. He can stay here, with her, just for a little longer. There is no harm in pretending they are watching stars together, happy in each other’s company.

Rolan carefully turned his head towards Nimriel. Her expression was peaceful, the migraine must have stopped. There was so much he wanted to ask her. To hear her talk to him and smile again. But he missed his opportunity, deservingly so.

Enough of this nonsensical moping. He is a grown, rational tiefling. Living inside your head gets you nowhere in life. Only a cold, emotionless mind and determination.

With that, Rolan removed the ring Nim gifted him and put it into his bag. The book on spells he showed her once was in there, too. The tiefling pondered a bit and took it out together with an ink pot and quill.

+++

Wyll was slowly going around the campfire, gathering empty bottles of wine. The party ended not so long ago, but the campsite quickly went quiet – most of his companions were plastered, snoring in their tents. But the Blade didn’t want to sleep just yet – it was a delightful, warm night, particularly in the face of what to come next for him and the group. He didn’t want it to end just yet. Wyll was thinking about taking Lae’zel’s offer. She was rough, sure, but wouldn’t it be nice to spend the night with someone, especially if it could be his last time. Besides, you have to give it to the gith – for all her aggression, she was strong-willed and direct, which are very attractive traits in Blade’s book.

The sound of movement interrupted Wyll’s trail of thought. He lifted his head and saw Rolan coming towards him. Interestingly, he was carrying Nim in his arms. The drow was deep in her sleep, wheezing comically, probably drunk.

“Hey, Rolan. Thought you all left already,” the Blade said quietly, pointing to Nimriel. “And what’s with this blazed potato?”

“She fell asleep while we were talking.” the tiefling replied, his voice sounding tired. “Can you take her to her tent?”

“Sure.”

Rolan took a fast final look at Nimriel and passed her body to Wyll. “Also, can you give her this? She will understand.”

+++

“Soooldier, rise and shine! Breakfast time!”

Nimriel slowly cracked her eyes open, reacting to Karlach’s delightful voice. The menace of Avernus was lightly pulling off her bedcover.

“Urgh-eh,” the cacophony of sounds was the first thing the drow could master after the night of heavy drinking. “Is it late?”

“Nah, Halsin’s still at the grove. So we have time for Gale’s special treat!”

“Thank gods for that man. Mystra’s a fool for throwing away someone with such passion for cooking.”

“Maybe the broad doesn’t eat normal food,” Karlach giggled. “Come on!”

As they approached a makeshift table, the other group members were lazily stuffing their faces. The hangover has been their unwelcome guest this morning. But even in times like these, they maintained their tradition of eating together.

“If it weren’t for yesterday, I’d thought you were all turning,” Nim joked, landing next to Lae’zel.

“Haven’t looked in the mirror today yet?” Shadowheart sneered.

“Nah, I’m not prepared for new nightmares,” the drow replied. “Thanks for breakfast, Gale!”

“At your service,” the wizard tried to bow gracefully, dropping his fork to the ground.

 “I wonder how many bottles we emptied last night,” Karlach said, chewing ravenously.

“I stopped counting at fifth, but you lot outdid yourselves,” Gale noticed.

“What else were we supposed to do?” Astarion nagged. “I was bored out of my mind. All this hero life is not for me. I ended up wandering the woods, but that demented bard’s music must have scared off all the animals”. He grinned curiously. “Please tell me at least someone got busy last night. I want to know all the gritty details!”.

“Ha, I wish!” Karlach responded. But in my case, it would be a veeeeeery steamy sex.”

“You have no shame,” Shadowheart rolled her eyes at them.

“You too, darling, judging by your blood-shot eyes.”

“No arguing at my breakfast table!” Gale declared. “Besides, I don’t think our condition is particularly ingratiatory towards intimacy.”

Wyll remained silent, chuckling on the inside. He briefly glanced at Lae’zel, who didn’t seem to pay attention to the conversation at all.

“You are just a prude,” Astarion grimaced at the wizard. “How about our dearest drow?”

“I was way too drunk for that,” Nimriel replied, pondering. “I don’t even remember how I got to my tent.”

“That’s because you didn’t,” Wyll interjected casually. It was a good opportunity to distract Astarion from asking about the Blade’s night adventures. “Rolan carried you in.”

“Huuuh?” Karlach’s face beamed with intrigue.

Nim stumbled for a moment, trying desperately to remember. “Oh… Right, I remember chatting with him on the beach. Did he tell you something, Wyll?”

“That you fell asleep.”

“Ha, ha-hah,” The elf roared with laughter. “The man is so stuffy that even sex with him puts women to sleep!”

“Cut it out, we just talked. You think I wouldn’t know if I slept with someone?” The drow interrupted, annoyed.

“So defensive we are! Something’s definitely going on between you two lovebirds,” Astarion responded cockily.

“Wish you could fight as well as you joke,” Nim scowled back at her companion. She now could remember what they were talking about, feeling embarrassed that she nodded off during the conversation. She greatly enjoyed Rolan’s company when he was calm and open, like last night. To fall asleep in the middle of it was disrespectful. And Nimriel didn’t even say a proper goodbye.

“At least that explains why you disappeared last night,” Karlach replied. She turned her head to the elf. “Drop it already.”

“You all such bores, even you, Karlach,” Astarion pouted.

“I almost forgot!” Wyll got up, still a little disoriented from the night of drinking. The Blade swiftly entered his tent and returned to the table, carrying something in his hands. “Rolan asked to give this to you. Said you will understand,” he passed a medium-sized red book to Nimriel.

“A book?” the confused drow took it off Wyll’s hands. It was the same tome of spells she once asked the tiefling to look through. The pages were a bit shabby, riddled with Rolan’s remarks written along the pages.

“Hmm, a “Weave of Life?” Haven’t seen these series of tomes for ages, I don’t think they get printed anymore,” Gale looked at the pages over the Nim’s shoulder. “Quite outdated for my taste. But I see Rolan came to the same conclusions, judging by his markings.”

“What do you mean?”

“He tried improving the spells, figuring out how to get the most use. I’d say some solutions are pretty adequate,” the wizard nodded in approval. “Why did he leave it behind?”

“Well, I once mentioned that I tried learning some spells,” Nim smiled. “Perhaps it was his way of saying thank you.”

“Try it if you want; I can help decipher some of the writing,” Gale clapped her on the shoulder, returning to his plate.

Nimriel continued flipping through the pages, participating in conversations now and again. She paused at the last page of the book, realizing that Rolan had left her a message:

For the ring. Practice at least once a day. Hope the spells from the book will help on your journey. -          R.

Short and scrupulous writing, just as she would expect from him. Still, the tiefling’s gest felt so warm and personal that Nim could not help but smile. The hot, tickling feeling rushed through her chest. She wanted to see Rolan again.  

[zigraves]

2023 Zi-writes-fic list

I've put nothing on Ao3 since 2014, when I basically stopped writing fanfic for the better part of a decade. And then Baldur's Gate 3 happened, and suddenly I'm writing again in volume!

So here's what's happened this year, almost all of which is canon-compliant or strongly canon-adjacent unless otherwise stated:

September:

A Soft Caress; As Cold As Death - my return to writing fic, with a multichapter M-rated postgame. Astarion/Halsin dealing with grief and circling back to a relationship with each other after their shared Tav died.

Overhear More In Changing - hopping onto the Bloodweave train with what appears to be the fandom's first body-swap fic! E-rated for a mind-meld activities, and the first of what will turn out to be quite a few bloodweave fics.

October:

Just Leap The Flames - having come from the TF2 fandom back in the day, naturally I could not resist having two sad old warriors find a bit of solace together for a night. E-rated Halsin/ Zevlor, featuring sore bones and bad hips.

Unexpected Terrain - a short bit of E-rated porn with a reasonable amount of feelings attached, featuring a trans Gale and an Astarion who's definitely got some issues around power and autonomy. Astarion's tendency to stay clothed and distant from his partner is at this point becoming a running theme.

Enchanting Silver - Bloodweave again, this time with a magic mirror gift for Astarion, and only M-rated for suggestiveness.

Seen, Seen, Seen - breaking up the smut and suggestiveness with a T-rated character study comparing Halsin and Astarion's responses to trauma and how it's shaped them as characters.

Come To Mind - staying T-rated, a bit of mild whump as Gale loses his mind and has to piece together who, or what, he is - and what relationship he has to these strangers around him.

November:

Rest, Indulge - back to E-ratings with a slow, indulgent, postgame bit of bloodweave consensual somnophilia. Come for the smut, stay for the breakfast sandwiches.

Myrtle, Ozone, Iron - M-rated for canon-expected depictions of violence, this ongoing fic leans into Astarion's reliance on scripts and his struggle with social interactions that fall outside his 200 years of rote experience.

December:

Strigil - E-rated again, as Gale has a miserable time in the Shadowlands and Astarion has a solution to his laundry problems. Readers may notice, once again, Astarion sublimating some Personal Issues via Gale.

Steady, Steady - dropping down to a nice friendly T-rating for what appears to be the first Halsin & Karlach friendfic in the fandom. Halsin teaches Karlach to whittle!

You Into Me - back up to E-rating for tadpole-based psychic codependency and a dose of hurt-comfort, written for a Bloodweave Secret Santa event.

Sherry - a G-rated offering at last, as Wyll ponders how much humanity he has left in the company of one who knows all too well what it's like to made into something monstrous.

Glass - a second dose of Wyllstarion, an as-yet-unrated Cinderella story written for the Wyllstarion server's "Fairy Tale" prompt. More to come on this one, and you can expect canon-typical violence and hurt/comfort to be added to the tags when Chapter 2 comes.

So! That brings my 2023 to an end.

After so long writing little to no fic, and barely even picking at my own original writing, it's been so good finally having something that sets my brain back to words again. I hope you enjoy it, and I promise to finish both Glass and Myrtle, Ozone, Iron in the New Year.

I'd put up a rec list, but good gods - there are so many talented writers in this fandom that I'd hardly know where to start!

[kalcat-sketches]

Feel a little late to the party, but here's my submission for @tav-dex

This is my first bg3 character I made and finished the game with, Qistana. (More about her under the cut)

About

Qistana was born and raised in Menzoberranzan, but ran to the surface around 70 years ago. She doesn't like to talk about that time of her life

She's not a devout worshiper of Ellistraee, but does consider herself a member of her faith and will pray to her when feeling stressed or overwhelmed

Carries a huge chip on her shoulder and holds a heavy grudge against Lolth and any who follow her. This anger is part of the foundation of her Oath.

The markings on her face are symbol of her paladin order. It's been awhile since she's checked in with anyone, having split from them temporarily to pursue "personal goals".

Her Dream Guardian took the appearance of a once close friend from her paladin order. While it was a face she trusted subconsciously, seeing it in person took her completely off guard and left her wary about the guardians true intentions.

Relationships

Best friends with Wyll, doesn't like his dad but respects Wyll enough to stay civil in interactions with the Grand Duke. Would have killed Mizora if it wouldn't have also killed Wyll, still took swings at the bitch when she stayed in camp uninvited.

Romanced Shadowheart, didn't think anything of Shar until they reached the Shadow Cursed Lands, and then became increasingly concerned about what becoming a Dark Justicier really meant. Incredibly relieved when Shadowheart made her choice to turn from Shar, and was more than happy to start a relationship and help find her parents.

Astarion and Qistana barely tolerated each other for Act 1 and part of Act 2, but the two gradually gained mutual respect and considered themselves friends by Act 3. Despite the animosity between them, Qistana immediately put Cazador on her list of "Assholes that need to be killed" when she heard about him.

Meta Stuff

Originally made for a co-op run with my best friend, remade for a solo game when I started coming up with backstory and she began living rent free in my brain (we still haven't finished Act 1 in that co-op game RIP)

Never broke her paladin oath in all 3 Acts, though looking into oathbreaking I think it should have happened after/during the seance with He Who Was in Act 2. I think I got very lucky with my dialogue choices.

I'd like to play another run with her again (prob at a higher difficulty) but I need to finish my Durge run first

(Thanks to @bareee for the template, it finally gave me the motivation to draw my girl!)

[dude-wheres-my-ankheg]

It's Gnoming Time!

Feeling like ass today so finally started my Jack-of-all-trades run, starring the imaginatively named Jack. Originally she was going to romance Gale but the more I figure out about her I realise that she would see Wyll's silly intro quip and immediately require him carnally.

She's generally good, but with an unfaltering and occasionally detrimental loyalty to her companions. She doesn't have the best attention span, meaning she often ends up on many obtuse and random quests instead of worrying about the tadpole in her head, and picks up skills as quickly as she puts them down again.

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

Any thoughts you’d like to share on the other origins characters? Anything you like about them :)

Again, haven't played the game so these are my general thoughts based on a few romance compilations, YouTube Shorts, and memes. If anybody would like to rectify this, please Venmo me $500 so I can buy a PS5.

Shadowheart

Admittedly don't know that much about her other than the emos love her and she follows a goddess of loss. Looks like her arc is all about questioning institutions and her god, which I think is very sexy of her. If anybody has a quest line compilation video to recommend so I can see her whole story, please send it my way.

Lae'zel

The other origin character I admittedly don't know that much about. Still love an arc about questioning the system she was raised in and her god. Again, very sexy of her. Fish out of water stories are some of my favorites. Pair that with a hardened character learning to enjoy the gentler things in the world, and you've got yourself a banger. I should really look up her quest line at some point to get a full view of it.

Karlach

Best girl. Strong muscles, soft heart. I want her to be my best friend IRL. She deserves better and if there is any way to get a better ending that allows her to stay in Faerun, the studio needs to get on that ASAP. In the meantime, I'm going to stay in the part of the internet that says she's fine don't worry about it. I'm hugging her and there is nothing you can do about it.

Wyll

Sweet boy. A perfect boy who did nothing wrong ever. Yeah, yeah, sold his soul to a devil, but he had a good reason. Plus, he was seventeen. Nobody should let a seventeen year old make any decisions ever. I do need to find a good romance compilation. He needs more love. His friendship with Karlach is everything to me.

Gale

People really need to stop complaining about this man. I see too many being ragging on about how he's not over his ex and keeps bringing her up. "With you I forget my goddess?" That isn't him saying with you he forgets his ex, he's saying with you he forgets his god. How are we all not collectively swooning? And he's a nerd who will info dump about his passions? Sign me the fuck up. His comfy pjs and burnt out gifted kid swagger has bewitched me body and soul.

Astarion

Guys, you've seen my blog. I'm obsessed with him.

The moment I saw this asshole pop up on my dash, I knew I was going to love him. He was the reason I decided to finally look up a romance compilation once I realized my computer was too old to let me run the game. He's my type to the point of parody. Literally anybody who knows me, knows this guy would end up being my favorite.

His arc is about bodily autonomy and trauma. He's allowed to not be the perfect victim. He's angry and violent. He's selfish and terrified. And he is, sadly, one of the few characters who, as part of his arc, realizes he can say no to sex and he can be loved without it.

My point is, it should be no surprise to anybody that the ace community loves this man, and anybody complaining about it should shut up.

If you want to write your sexy Astarion fanfic, there is nothing stopping you. More power to you. I've seen the graveyard scene too. I recognize that regaining his autonomy and being able to have sex with somebody he cares about is part of the healing process.

At the same time, if writers want to interpret his arc is him realizing he never wants to have sex again, and that being okay; let them. We need this. There are so few characters like him out there.

At some point I do want to write an hour long video essay about his arc and how it's resonated with the ace community specifically.

Anyway, those are my general thoughts. I feel like I just swung a bat at a hornet's nest with that last bit, but what's life without a little danger?

[feluka]

finished my Durge run. i feel like it ended too quickly this time whereas i felt my first playthrough lasted forever!! idk maybe i rushed things. anyway, final batch of screenshots:

starting off with Wyll appreciation :] the prettiest boy of the gate. i'm really disappointed though because, this time around i went for the duke ending to get more Wyll content than last time (last playthrough he left with Karlach) but it bugged out and the game gave me nonsense dialogue during the reunion party. (game seemed to think i was playing origin Lae'zel?? and he asked me how the fight against Vlaakith was going. come ON.)

you think a depressed person can do THIS? *succeeds constitution save to use the netherstones while looking so so cute*

not even the lowest graphic settings can prevent me and the bestie from slaying

idk why the game decided to take Yasham's tattoos away during the final fight :( a shame because the lighting there is so good (lol. priorities.) and i got some good screenshots of my boy out of it! i'll miss him a lot.

karlach turning into a mindflayer absolutely wrecked my heart but i'll probably write a whole about that. i still feel sick over it tbh. i honestly feel like Yasham would avoid seeing her after the final fight because he can't forgive himself for letting her do that and would cry himself to sleep after talking to her in the reunion. (well that's how i felt.) i'm glad the game gives you the dialogue option to say 'sorry i haven't reached out to you' to her because i could totally see how a tav/durge wouldn't be able to look at her again without remembering the 'old' karlach and feeling awful. i think it soured the whole party for mine.

anyway hug compilation to feel better!!

at least the game decided to give Yasham his tattoos back for the epilogue! look at how dapper he is!!

finally i wanted to say the dude that Minsc brings with him to the reunion looks a LOT like Talaat Zakaria that i did a double take when i saw him. THAT'S HIM.

[odessa-castle]

Nothing Like the Sun: Questions! Answers! Prompts!

I mentioned this in the endnotes of the last chapter of Nothing Like the Sun, but since tumblr is where I do most of my fannish social media stuff, I figured it was worth an official mention here, as well.

Now that Part One of NLTS is finished, I can finally lift my self-imposed gag order about that part of the story! (The number of times I had to hold myself back from spoiling things in the comments, I swear.) Therefore, because I genuinely do like talking about all of this, let it be known that my askbox is open for the following:

questions about the first half of this fic, either in terms of the story itself (like "what was Cazador planning to use his trading company for?") or in terms of behind-the-scenes planning and process stuff (like "how far ahead did you plan X twist/reveal?") -- or any other kind of question, really! You can ask me things about part two, but my answers will probably be annoyingly cryptic. Sorry!

prompts for fics of about 500 words or less (I will try to hold myself to this >>) set in NLTS's universe. I may or may not get around to all of them, but I haven't taken prompts in like, a million years, and I'd like to try my hand at doing it again! They can be as general (like "I want to see more of Astarion and Wyll hanging out in the Jasmine Garden") or specific (like "if that cloud of mist in Chapter 11 was actually Cazador, what did he think about what he saw?") as you like. SFW and NSFW are both fine.

Here are a few fun tidbits about NLTS to kick things off:

NLTS was always going to lead into (a version of) the canon timeline. For some deeply dumb reason, I thought at first that the story in its entirety would only ("only") run about 60-80k. I sure played myself with that one.

I've talked about Moulin Rouge's influence on NLTS before, but I also self-indulgently packed NLTS full of nods to Shakespeare (including, obviously, the title itself). See how many of them you can spot!

I'm an outliner, but my outline for NLTS underwent some significant changes over the course of me writing the story. For example, did you know that Iskalia, the madam of the Jasmine Garden, was originally Mizora in disguise? This would have been a very cool twist that would have completely fallen apart after, like, three seconds of thinking about it (how tf does Mizora have the time to run a brothel, anyway), so it got axed. The reveal would've been great, though.

Wyll's fighting style during his duel with Lord Andoril is based on destreza, which is basically an early modern Spanish school of fencing. It was a bit of a stretch for me, because my HEMA knowledge is more about armored Germans beating the shit out of each other, but it was ultimately a lot of fun to write.

[palidan-sheep]

So, if it isn’t clear, I like Halsin a lot lol.

So much so that I went out to find the True Lovers Caress rings over by The House of Healing and the graveyard next to it and promptly put in on my Tav, Evelyn, and him.

He’s the one who has to apply it warding bond on the both of us which is prefect because I’ve changed my mind and kept him as a Druid but with support spells like stoneskin and whatnot to boost Evelyn while she does all the hard and heavy hitting.

Halsin used to be a wildheart barbarian with two points in druids so he can still be a bear and Evelyn was originally just a Moon Druid but now they’ve switched. Ain’t no rage like female rage ya’know?

But at the same time, it’s evident that Halsin has some rage in him too. (Doesn’t everyone?) His dialogue when in battle is so serious and borderline ruthless, I think he yells/shouts almost every time you click on him. I could go on but that isn’t the point here.

So whilst I would make them both druids and barbarians, that would leave Gale up to be the support and I can’t do that to him 😭 it’s a shame he’s not poly. 4th slot goes to whoever is needed for the story atm, A-staircase/Shart/Wyll/yada yada yada

Anyways, to cure my insatiable appetite for xp I decided to go back the Act 1 area and the places between them after more or less clearing out all of Act 2 available xp, unfortunately Halsin can’t accompany us out to act 1. Bleh.

Whilst running about and killing things that can be killed, I realize that somehow, our warding had carried over! At first I thought this was cool and such, a cute “Oh he’s thinking about me” moment and then I neck deep in Githyankie blood when I realize that the warding bond is gone.

Ah shit.

Maybe it ran out? No it’s permanent! Alright, maybe the game realized that we were in two sperate acts and cut off the warding bond?

There’s no way Halsin could’ve died?

So in panic, I try and teleport to a place in Act 2 so I can visit camp and see if Halsin is alive but game bugged out, 4 times, and wouldn’t let me tp to an Act 2 area.

Fuck.

So the next best thing, go to camp in Act 1 and speak with Withers, see if there a thing resurrect someone.

There isn’t.

But what if you can’t revive someone who’s not meant to be in that Act 1 area and can only get the option to rev is you are in the proper act?

So after reloading 4 times, I was finally able to get to an Act 2 area and tp to camp, skipped talking to withers and booked to Halsin camp, low-and-behold, he’s there.

Just missing a huge chunk of his health, bloody enough to cause concern, and in the same sprit as I had left him. With warding bond still on him? But not on me?

But nevertheless, he’s fine. I honestly did think he died, there is a health gap between us- 73 and 59 but this game is nothing I’m used to so I’m still learning about it and its mechanics.

Perhaps a call to warning, don’t put the Lovers rings warding bond on someone if they aren’t gonna be in your party, shit causes way to much needless stress when you forget that you both take dmg.

[weaveandwood]

Ship questions!!! 💓

Did either try to resist their feelings?

Height difference/age difference?

Do they have nicknames for each other?

What's the wedding like?

Yessss thank you @elspethdekarios the perfect way to procrastinate running errands <3

Did either try to resist their feelings? Gale, definitely. Eventually, he realizes that they're always in danger and doesn't want to waste time. He just needs to figure out the orb situation - cue Elminster. I think once the orb is stable, he's less reluctant to tell Ora how he feels and physically can't keep it to himself anymore, no matter if he only has days, weeks, or months to live - he decides finally that it'd all be worth it.

Auroria doesn't really try to resist her own feelings, she just can't name them until Wyll calls her out on it in the Shadow Cursed lands - he tells her "I hope I can find someone who loves me as much as you love Gale." Record scratch. Oh shit, yeah I do love him.

Both of them are very flirty with each other from the get go, when Gale lands on her after pulling him out of the portal (because he SHOULD land on Tav, so I made it so! The power of writing!)

Height/Age Difference? Gale is "35" according to Larian (lol ok), and Ora is 37 (half-elf). I am choosing to believe that as a powerful wizard, Gale can extend his life using his power (I think like Clone or something? I haven't done much research). If not, I think Ora would be similar to her mother, who was a full elf in love with a human - that in her long and many years, she was lucky enough to have one great love to surpass all others and that was enough.

Height-wise, Gale looks like he's just a little taller than Ora in my screenshots. Since he's 6'2", I'm going to put Ora as 5'10". We love a tall girly.

Do they have nicknames for each other? Gale mainly calls Ora by either her preferred nickname (Ora, lol), or one of many versions of my love, my darling, dear wife, Mrs. Dekarios occasionally after they get married. Auroria actually would refuse to let anyone shorten her name to Ora (her best friend Zephia gave it to her and she refused to let anyone else call her by it after Zeph died during a hunt that Ora blames herself for), but after she finally grants the party permission, Gale never wants to call her by her full name again. Even in my fanfic his POVs only use Ora instead of Auroria when she's being described.

Auroria calls him Gale, dear husband, handsome wizard when he needs an ego boost, and occasionally brings back Karlach's "Magic Man" for laughs. She was brought up that nicknames were disrespectful to the person who gave you your name, so it's hard for her to use them, but she gets better over time.

What's the wedding like? Oh boy. Well, my wedding between Gale and Ora completely ignores the epilogue! I have a short story called Midwinter in Waterdeep, and to summarize, Auroria leaves Gale. Over a year later she finds herself back in Waterdeep for a job and they reconnect over a period of six Midwinters. I'm really proud of it, and I feel like it's a unique take on post-Netherbrain life - Ora was a nomad almost her whole life. The routine, the tower, the city all suffocated her. The compromise is that when she's between adventures, her and Gale live in a small cabin deep in the woods near Waterdeep that's enchanted to be invisible to everyone but them. It works for them. ANYWAYS. Here's what I wrote about their wedding.

He twirled the silver ring on his own finger, the twin to hers. He had felt the hum of the original sending stone only a few months after their last Midwinter, during Greengrass. He rushed to the cabin after classes were completed for the day, wondering why she hadn’t told him anything through their messaging stones, wondering if the original stones were malfunctioning. He had no sooner opened the door before she pulled him in and kissed him deeply. He led her to the bedroom, both of them shedding layers of clothing along the way as they reunited. Later that evening, she lazily ran her fingers through his hair as the dancing lights he cast hovered over them, lighting the room in a beautiful pale blue glow.  “Marry me, Gale.” They were married that week in a small ceremony, only Tara and Morena in attendance, though once word got out, many congratulations poured in from all over the Sword Coast. She had left later that week, and now she was finally coming home.

In my head, Gale wear this gold and white outfit mod that's floating around and Ora wears a floaty chiffon tank that's really drapey with a matching gold and white coset around her waist. She wears leather pants and some embroidered flats, since it's a special occasion. Both of them wear flowers in their hair since they're married during Greengrass. I do think that at some point they will throw a party for all their friends to attend that's more traditional for Waterdeep, but for the time being they relish their time together in their little cabin - whether its a day, a week, or a month or more.

Thanks for the questions this was so funnnnnnn, I love blabbing about my blorbos. It's my goal to make everyone else as obsessed with Ora as I am. <3

Questions from this ask game!