#oc durge

[astarionsbeloved]

Astarion speaking to Sebastian and Ny'fein's reaction.

[poisonousglitter]

God I wanna know more about oc durge's relationship with Sceleritas. Please tell me what they think about the little guy!!!

For me personally it's best summarized by the quote "He is like a father to me, I love him like my son"

[wickedvixey]

D, G, and K for the NSFW ask BG3 edition!

D is for desk.

Gortash had Lannwit bent over his desk a countless times. In between his meetings with councillors, after a long stressful day, instead of sleeping, on top of the paperwork, sideways, from behind, or with his head between Lann’s thighs - any way, anytime. After all, citing his own words, “Here is where he conducts with his most important business.”

G is for Greed.

Gortash and Lannwit both are so greedy about each other. Wether it be a young noble debutant who had an audacity to dance with Gortash, or a slutty count who had guts to offer Lannwit a glass of wine, charmed with her mysterious appearance: they all end up just the same, in a pool of blood, gutted like a fish by Lann’s steady hand; or the count suddenly received a letter from his distant relative, filled with blackmail chosen by Gortash’s sharp mind, only to leave the city immediately and never look back.

K is for Kindred spirit.

Maybe it was their first time like ever. Enver never had someone that close, that painfully comfortable. The nights she climbed into his window was the most intimate ones, even before the furious lust or the absolute plot. Were it a vivisection or making a Steel Watcher prototype, they had something to share with each other. Gortash could start to randomly talk - mostly with himself, while drawing blueprints for his machinery, and most of the time he did it around Lann, she had something to say, either pointing out vulnerabilities in his designs or sharing her anatomy knowledge to make the prototype more flexible. They could talk for hours, discussing various experiments and inventing better weapons, and Lann gladly tested prototypes, bringing back a priceless knowledge of how to make it even better. The first bond that was forged between them was companionship, and it was a bond neither of them could’ve expected.

[astarionancuntnin]

just silly durge things

(more bg3)

[loveless-art]

a little vignette of Julius praying by the beach after slaughtering the entire local Underdark in an offering to Bhaal :3

[keylana-dragon]

[jace-writes-about-things]

Things Will Be Better

So of course I didn't finish my first play through, got to Act 3 and decided instead I wanted to start all over again with a Durge run which of course is going about as well as you'd expect, I'm trying road to redemption and of course I had to resist Gales temptations when he reached out that portal but I'm actively romancing Astarion, so of course here is my Durge Sorcerer Wood Elf Astral romancing Gale <3

tw // childhood trauma

Finally a moment to rest at camp, Astral found herself slouched on one of the bedrolls close to the campfire in the centre of camp, absolutely exhausted with the day the party had faced, having assisted the grove in fighting back against the Shadow Druid’s trying to lock the grove away from the rest of Faerûn, after finding Kagha’s plans to assist them in their plans of course Astral couldn’t sit by idly and watch it all happen. After fighting a couple annoying Mephit’s and some beefy Woad’s the party of course had to confront the woman and help convince her that life in the shadows was not worth the hassle, and then of course fight off the shadow druid’s that had disguised themselves as rats. All in all, a pretty eventful and rather painful day and Astral was ready to kick her feet up, relax and finally get some well-earned sleep.

“Fancy helping me with cooking for this merry band of misfits?” Came the wizard’s smooth voice, disturbing Astral from her peaceful relaxation, opening her eyes to peer at the man towering over her she couldn’t help but smile at his eagerness to provide for their found group. Clutching a mismatching of ingredients, food that they had scavenged, stole and bartered for he wasn’t seeming to take no for an answer.

Standing up, dusting her clothes off she gave the wizard a nod allowing him to lead the way to the dented cooking pot he had been using to whip up the party’s meals, “If we were in my tower back in Waterdeep, my we would have an impressive larder and many spices to make a grand meal, but I suppose a charming cooking pot in a camp in the middle of the wilderness shall have to do.” Reminising of his homeland of Waterdeep, he seemed almost defeated that he couldn’t prepare a proper meal for the people he had come to know and care for, it was sweet.

“What’s on the menu tonight then Gale?” Peering into the pot at the boiling water Astral quipped, “If we’ve ran out of supplies and are having a bowl of warm water each, you can tell everyone because I’m not sure their bellies would be too happy.” Earning a chuckle from the wizard at her silliness she watched as he sat himself down, a makeshift chopping board and a dagger being used to cut up some spring onions they had managed to grab on their roaming’s of the local woods, “Well I was hoping to make a nice stew but I suppose a bowl of warm seasoned water will have to do.” He smiled up at her, enjoying this banter with her.

As she sat down nearby, ready to assist him in his cooking she looked over the ingredients, sea salt of course to give the food a little bit of seasoning at least, a large slab of venison she had cut from a dead sheep herself, some fresh vegetables and of course, his spring onions.

“Where do you need me then?” Rubbing her hands together she was ready to make this cooking go by as quickly as possible as her stomach finally realised she was in the general vicinity of food it growled out in protest at its emptiness, Astral glared down at the interruption as if her stomach could feel the heated stare, “Well, seems your belly is ready to get stuck into some cooking, you could debone that venison and get it cut up as finely as you can, we don’t want anyone having to chew through the fat or picking a couple bones out of their dinner now do we?” Astral couldn’t help but blush at his recognition of her hunger, but she could hardly blame herself she had had a rather draining day, and one needs sustenance to keep fighting.

Dragging herself away to begin helping she set herself up with a slab of stone and slightly smaller slab of venison, cleaver in hand she stared down at the remainer of the sheep in-front of her, swinging down at the meat she of course had never actually cooked for herself like this before living her life on scraps and the rare hot meals she could get in taverns or any safe haven that would provide one, gods she could only remember the last time she had cooked a proper meal was with her mother as a child. So long ago now she wonders as she butchers this meat in-front of her, where if still alive her mother is it had been so very long she wonders if her mother would remember her now if she were to find her wherever her location may be, maybe she still lived in their small cottage just on the outskirts of Baldur’s Gate, maybe she had moved on to somewhere else, somewhere bigger… better. She didn’t realise the mess she had made in-front of her until a gentle hand laid itself on her arm, willing her to stop driving the cleaver she held into the meat over and over and over and over and….

“Astral? Are you quite alright? You were a thousand miles away…” Gale soothed as he shifted to removed the new weapon from Astral’s hand, she clutched it with force but his hand brushing over her clenched fist willed her to release the item from her grasp and in that moment all she wanted to do was curl into a ball and cry out for her mother… her mother, where? Where is she, why isn’t she here? Surely, she wasn’t dead? She had be alive, it was her mother…

“Sorry I seemed to lose myself a bit there, I don’t mean to worry you, Gale.” She couldn’t bring herself to look at the man, she could feel the tears welling in her eyes as she recalled so many memories of times long passed, her childhood it all came flooding back to her so fast, like running into a brick wall at full speed. She could do nothing but stare down at her hands as she fiddled with her fingers, maybe she should just retreat to her tent and pretend that she was fine, pretend that nothing had happened. Yes, that’s what she would do. So, she stood, giving Gale a curt nod and shambling her way over to her tent like a hurt puppy, forcing herself to put one leg in-front of the other.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed as she sat in her tent, curled into her own body nothing could hurt her like this, no one could bring any harm to her as long as she wrapped her arms tightly around herself, she wasn’t here in her tent, no she was home in the cottage waiting for mother to come up to lull her to sleep with fairytales and kiss her goodnight as she danced the precipice of sleep and wake. She didn’t notice the flap to her tent gently parting, the wizard slowly lowering himself down to crouch in-front of her, warm bowl of stew in hand and a gentle smile on his face as he took in the situation, she found herself in.

“I thought you might like to try your handiwork, I must say your venison helped make this stew possibly one of the best I have made with the given circumstances, many compliments all round camp of course I had to tell everyone you gave a helping hand, my little helper.” His compliments of the food brought her back to the reality she was in, sitting in her tent a broken mess crying over her long gone childhood that she was so easily transported back to with the simple task of cooking. She gently reached out for the bowl, almost as if it would burn her if she dared to touch it but her belly rumbling in agreement to accepting the bowl had her quickly reaching for the spoon and beginning her devouring of the meal.

Gale sat with her as she ate, she couldn’t bring herself to care of how sloppily she ate her meal, she was famished and would actually fight a man if they dared to remove the bowl from her grasp, she couldn’t help but agree with her campmates as she ate… it really was a delicious meal, definitely one of Gale’s best. As she finished, she laid the bowl down beside her, stretching herself out of the curled up state she had resigned herself to for however many minutes, hours had passed as she had sat disassociated from the world around her. Gazing up at Gale she knew she had to give the man an explanation for her earlier outburst, she had walked off with nothing but a nod after viciously brutalising part of their dinner.

“I can only apologise for earlier, I’m not sure what came over me, but it was no way to act and to simply walk away without any explanation wasn’t right, I’m so sorry Gale you must have thought you were next for the chopping block.” She tried to make light of the situation but looking at Gale’s stern expression she realised, comedy wasn’t going to get her very far in this conversation, “You don’t need to apologise, you were very clearly having a moment, I could see it in your eyes that you were a thousand miles away, of course I removed the weapon not for my own safety, but for yours.” He thought she was going to harm herself, if she was going to do that she would have done in it private, she wouldn’t have made him privy to a show like that, he was too pure for that, he didn’t deserve to see something as horrible as that.

“I appreciate your concern Gale but of course I wouldn’t have done anything like that to myself, especially not in-front of someone, that would just be evil.” She tried to convince herself more than convince him, she almost didn’t believe the words coming out her own mouth, her brain and the words she was saying were warring with each other and the look on her face must have let on, as the wizard reached out to grasp at one of her hands, just like he had earlier.

“I don’t expect you to tell me everything that is swirling around in that head of yours, I understand that whatever is going on up there is most likely private and something that you’re not willing to share with a man you met not even a week ago, but when I say that you can trust me, I mean it Astral, I will not pry into your private matters if you do not wish to share them but whatever is going on please know that if you feel comfortable to share, I am here to provide and comfort you may need.” There were very few people in her life that Astral had trusted with the details of her life, many of whom were now dead having taken secrets of her to their graves, she almost didn’t want to burden him with her thoughts and history, but there was something about him, something that made her want to tell him everything as she crawled into his arms and cried into them over all the broken parts of her.

“Thank you.” Came her simple response, and for the first time in her life, rather than shutting herself off from her emotions and building her walls back up, she let herself move to him, into his arms and cry. Allowing him to wrap his arms around her as she let herself cry, let herself feel her emotions, and as his hand soothed along her back she actually believed that everything might actually be alright. Maybe this time things would different, this time they would be different.

Cross Posted on Ao3 - jacethed00d

[littlelovelore]

bloodless temptress

[mel-0n-earth]

random OC ask: what are some things your OC never leaves home without?

this can be both practical (their typical tools, notable accessories, etc.) and narrative (items that have personal importance to them, etc.)

You always have such good prompts. I love answering these!

I'll answer for Crow, the tiefling Durge assassin from my fic "Fear Me Love Me." I've been rotating her in my mind quite a bit lately.

Pre-memory loss, Crow would not be caught anywhere without her daggers, and by way of that, her netherstone. There were two main reasons for this.

First, she preferred to be armed at all times, not just for self defense (though Orin's jealously definitely necessitated such thinking), but also in case an opportunity ever arose to snuff out a life, to murder as her father willed. Sure, she could kill just fine with teeth and claws, but there was something about knives that made it feel like a craft rather than a simple means to an end. An artist was nothing without her tools.

Second, Crow did not want to be parted from her netherstone, not just because it was valuable, but because it offered her a link to Gortash. Even on those occasions when one of them remained in the Gate while the other traveled to Moonrise, she could always sense his presence through the netherstone. It didn't allow them to communicate, or pass information in any way, but it was enough just to feel he was there. She found comfort in his presence. She would never admit it aloud, even to him, but she sometimes wondered if he knew anyway, or if his habit of brushing his fingers over the stone while he worked meant that he shared a similar sentiment.

Post-memory loss, Crow started to carry a journal with her everywhere she went. She would write in it daily, and slip various ephemera between the pages--letters, newspaper clippings, anything that would help her remember. She'd already lost so many memories, so much of herself after the tadpole. If something like that were to happen again, or if ceremorphosis rendered her unrecognizable--physically or otherwise--she wanted a way to remember. She wouldn't let herself forget again.

[poisonousglitter]

Astarion casually mentioning to Gale that Damiar has a type. And Gale immediately takes offence and goes on a rent because he thinks Astarion is talking about Orin. And Astarion's eyes just flicker between Gale and Gortash and he doesn't understand how he is the only one to see that.

[deathvalleyqueen]

Let me tell you about my DnD character - I have turned into my Durge OC... (yes it's the same character - i change her hair a lot)

Her name is T'alice - it rhymes with Malice. (because I too, like Neil on this High Rollers oneshot - am a Drizzt stan and in the DnD game I play her original version she may have some connection to Drizzt or a Drizzt like character in my friend's world we are still mid-campaign and I genuinely don't know who her father is yet - only her mother is a goddess.)

She is a Lolth Sworn Drow (or rather thinks she is)

She has black hair over the typical White/Silver of Drow cuz of Bhaal babe things.

Durge/Gortash is very much a real thing in my HC for her.

She is a Hexblade Warlock/Phantom Rogue multiclass - both modded in- in my DnD game she was going to be a Hexblade/Rogue multiclass but my DM/friend begged me not to subject him to a Hexblade so she is a Barbarian/Rogue with a homebrew Rogue subclass that lets me use heavy weapons for sneak and she used the Kobold Press subclass for Path of Herald Barb - there aren't equivalent mods for either and while I am learning to mod subclasses in I haven't yet managed to make one work. Which is why I went back to the original concept of her being a Hexblade/Rogue build for BG3.

Her Hexblade weapon is the Stillmaker - yes... with all the implications that Gortash gave her it etc.

She tries to fight the urges - somewhat. Still very stabby.

Used to braid Orin's hair.... (I gave her very similar hair to Orin and like this is just some little HC I have about why they look the same)

There are 3 people that call her "Tali" - Gortash, Astarion and Gale... all men she may or may not have romantic entanglements with. Anyone else who dares - will promptly stabbed in the face.

She and Gortash have known each other a very long time, I would say since their teen years - I picture them being very close in age.

If either of them (T'alice or Gortash) are actually capable of feeling love for another being - the only real person they have love for is each other.

The real idea behind enslaving the elder brain was for T'alice to amass enough power for her to ascend to Godhood so she would break free of the Urge. This explains why she tries to fight her Urges.

The reason she ends up with either Gale and/or Astarion - is they both are very ambitious men. I am very torn of if she is poly or not. Probably because I can't resist Astarion's charm.

The only bits of her old life she remembers - revolve around Gortash.

Karlach thinks T'alice is familiar but she can't place where she knows her from till act 3 when she sees T'alice and Gortash standing next to each other.

[nolfanworks]

Moghuul is the Dark Urge

Pain moved through Moghuul’s skull like an early morning wake, rippling from frontal to occipital lobe and back again. This was no mere migraine. His brain felt like it had been pressed for its juices, pulverized into a pulp, and piped back into its case through the brand-new burrow hole of his right eye. He was alive. The pain meant he had survived. But how? The last thing he could remember was falling through purple light.

Moghuul’s eyes opened slowly, squinting in the late morning sun. It blazed down on him in a gentle blanket of warmth accompanied by soft gusts of wind and carried with it the acrid stench of burning nautiloid flesh—a salty, briny cephaloid stench coupled with smoke and tiny flecks of black ash. High above, clouds drifted unbothered through the bright blue sky, high above the jagged broken scaffold that reached out overhead like the broken rib cage in a dragon’s graveyard. It was an astonishingly beautiful day.

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

The Son of Murder (5427 words) by Nolf615 Chapters: 3/? Fandom: Baldur's Gate (Video Games) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Characters: The Dark Urge (Baldur's Gate), Shadowheart (Baldur's Gate), Lae'zel (Baldur's Gate), Astarion (Baldur's Gate), Withers (Baldur's Gate), Gale (Baldur's Gate) Additional Tags: Spoilers, Blood and Violence, Gore, Bullying, Location: Faerûn (Dungeons & Dragons), Chosen of Bhaal Dark Urge (Baldur's Gate), Illithids | Mind Flayers (Dungeons & Dragons), Tadpole | Illithid Parasite Powers (Baldur's Gate) Summary: This piece will include spoilers and events featured in Baldur’s Gate III. If you have not played it GO PLAY IT NOW. Moghuul is The Dark Urge. A non-canonical interpretation of them anyways. Moghuul has awoken with no memories, an awful headache, and a brand new cranial companion. He must navigate morality, empathy, and the complexities of love and devotion in order to live long enough to rid himself of the ticking time bomb in his skull…and perhaps save a few of the tag alongs he’s collected. Will he fall to depravity and loose his newfound friends? Will he become a puppet of manipulation? Will he learn what it means to genuinely care for someone or will he let the promise of redemption be sacrificed on the altar of fatherly acceptance? This…whatever it is will feature random events in Moghuul’s journey. Before, during, and after the game. Whatever comes to mind.

[freesidexjunkie]

okay so. latest try vs first try and drawing Maevris.

definitely feel like the latest one is an improvement but. we're getting there.

[astarionsbeloved]

[victorgrwrites]

Dark Urge: Jack Punch

"The small puppet is witty, charming, and often violent."

"He can be seen whipping his battered wife Judy with a slapstick, and dropping his baby in a meat grinder, and Punch gets away with it every time."

"The story of Mr. Punch is that he kills his baby, then his wife Judy, and the police officer who comes to arrest him. He outwits a ghost, a crocodile, and a doctor, convinces the hangman to be hanged in his place, and, at the play's end, even defeats the devil himself." - The Tragical Comedy or Comical Tragedy of Mr. Punch, Neil Gaiman

[yarrowseed]

i dusted off one of my old tabletop characters to play a durge run in bg3, and have been having a ton of fun with him. Drinn is a Circle of the Spores druid. he has the personality of a golden retriever puppy, it's just buried six feet under a mulchy aura of general menace and murderousness ^_^