#the moonrise files

[linka-from-captain-planet]

me discovering evidence in parsed dialogue files loosely implying that Florrick and Minthara may have once had ambient dialogue in Moonrise post-Ketheric defeat

Synopsis: If Florrick is not present and Minthara is, Jaheira will approach to keep an eye on her. She can not be trusted yet since she was recently with the Absolute.

[wetsocksinbed]

the latest patch for BG3 glitched my game and wiped my Astarion romance and now the game is convinced I’m dating Gale and I’m too far into the game to go back and change things

[cicadaknight]

well into act 2 and supposedly astarion and i are together according to everyone in camp, but he has nothing more to say besides the usual “hello darling” 😩

[stonerzelda]

in my evil quest to get minthara in my evil playthru i accidentally made wyll and karlach reasonably disown me and i cant be mad at them bc they are not wrong and i get it. they told me i couldnt handle lolth sworn pussy

[yuumei-art]

Sunset and Moonrise

I had started this with the intention of more cloud petticoats but somehow it evolved into ocean waves, so I just went with the flow~

HD files, art videos, and PSD files on my Patreon.com/Yuumei

[nightmarist]

Some Zevlor Things —

EDIT 12/2/23: Added a few more things

A fellow Tiefling Hellrider, Tilses, is with him in the caves acting as his bodyguard. He sometimes calls her Tilly.

There is one bedroll in the caves shoved off in the far corner with a book titled "The Devil You Know: An Autobiography" - not sure if it's his personal writing or if he's reading it, either way it adds to the flavor of his of his tiefling pride (and/or anguish).

It reads:

Have you ever had a god change your blood? It is a horrifying thing, even for those who may desire it. Yet few tieflings wished for Asmodeus to claim their bodies, only be given no choice in the matter. It is not as if we were well-loved before the archdevil's gambit. Our people have always struggled against the notion of 'devilkin', as if a single drop of infernal ichor inescapably corrupts. How amusing, when so many others willingly sell their souls to fiends, yet their culture as a whole escapes the blame. By what method can we redeem ourselves, when the crime is not ours? I would drive a blade into every warlock that aided Asmodeus' damned ritual, but personal vengeance cannot undo the will of a god, much less one as slippery as the Lord of Lies. When every passerby thinks you a thief and heretic, it is deeply tempting to become one. (cut off) The only thing that has stopped me is knowing Asmodeus wants nothing more than for all of us to fall from grace.

Around the his table are Invasion Plans for Elturgard, Traveler's Guide to Baldur's Gate, Traveler's Guide to the Sword Coast Vol IV: The Risen Road (which aligns when he tells you earlier there are gnolls on the road), and "Front and Center: a Thespian's Memoir" that reads:

"... in fact, the greatest joy of my life hasn't been acting, but becoming. When you choose a character to play, you don't just wear a mask - you take a little bit of their soul for your own. Whoever you are in your heart of hearts, if only by the faintest note."

Zevlor aside I think this is a sweet quote for the player and player character relationship <3

Dialogue in the Caves:

Zevlor: I Hardly need a bodyguard, Tilses. This isn't Avernus. Tilses: No sir. At least the monsters there looked like monsters.

—

Tilses: Commander— Zevlor: Just Zevlor, Tilly. We're civilians now, remember? Tilses: With respect, sir — being a Hellrider is for life. They can't take — Zevlor: They can, and did. Avernus changed things — best we get used to that. Tilses: ... Yes, Zevlor

—

Tilses: The Watch or the Flaming Fist? Zevlor: Pardon? Tilses: When we get to Baldur's Gate. Where are we enlisting? Zevlor: I'm done soldiering, Tilly. I'd like a clean start. But go with the Watch. You're too honest to be a mercenary.

—

Zevlor: No word from the scouts, yet? Tilses: No sir. But if there's a clear path past the goblins, they'll find it. Zevlor: Yes, of course.

ITEMS —

in the Chest there is a bronze goblet, 46 gold, and a battle-worn blade. On his person he has his gloves (Hellrider's Pride), an apple, a camp supply pack, and the key to his chest.

The blade says:

A fine by well-used sword. It seemed to have once belonged to a holy order, but the indication of rank and patron deity at the hilt have recently been filed down.

The gloves' flavor text says:

A waft of sulphur emanates from this proudly-kept piece.

Celebration at the Camp:

"I should be out there, talking with them. In... Just a moment, maybe." "Is this everyone? Our numbers have grown so few..." "No more. I can't afford to lose any more of them." "No. Let them have fun. I'll be ruining it come morning anyway."

Mindfayer Colony:

Things he mumbles in the Pod:

The pod will show you his memories of Elturel:

After saving Zevlor, I forced myself to pick the "mean" options just to see how it goes.

If you tell him its his fault tieflings were imprisoned in moonrise, he says:

If you tell him "Do yo have a right to ask?" when he asks about the tieflings:

He doesn't argue with any of your remarks except one, when he says "For a moment I welcomed it" and you tell him "For a moment until you realized your reward would be a tadpole" he corrects you:

If you tell him if he wanted power he should live up to his own ideal:

If you tell him to get out of your sight:

When you tell him it's not his fault he was enthralled:

If you tell him "Fine. Good luck, Zevlor."

If you say you could use another blade in the fight to come:

At the Netherbrain:

(smiling <3)

"The journey has been brutal, but I stand here a Hellrider once more, and I would die a proud man if I died this day."

I know it's a Soldier thing to be proud to die for a cause but it still makes me worry for him given his background so far <:]

If you click on him, he has two unvoiced lines:

if you pickpocket him at this point, he'll have the same items on him as before (in this save he has a carrot instead of an apple for me).

His stats at this time: (Steeped in Bliss is from one of my items)

Post Game (Patch 5)

I don't know if there are other permutations of this letter, yet, but this is what I received:

I hope my penmanship has improved somewhat in the past months. When I first stumbled into this city, I shook so badly that I could scarcely hold the soup the priests pressed into my hands - let alone write and thank you as you deserve. It is only when the city itself began to shake that I felt my hands grow still. Along with the other veterans sheltering at the temple - discards of Elturel's 'unworthy' legions - I watched that monstrosity rise over the city. We felt no fear. Only anger. Disgust. Purpose - and with it, power. I do not know what oath we cling to now, or how long it will last - but we shall use it to ensure that this city will not suffer as Elturel did. Whether it wants us or not. It is more than thanks alone I owe. No words can make amends for what I did to my people, but that is as it should be. More come to the temple every day to aid in the relief efforts, and if I am permitted to work alongside them, then I am content. Come and see us, when you can. Zevlor

It's interesting — if not bitterswet, tragic, and inspiring — to hear that Zevlor and other Paladins regained their Oaths via pure, stubborn devotion to saving people when it began to look as bad as Elturel.

[actual-lea]

So who wants to hear about the stupid stupid way I'm playing Baldur's Gate 3?

I made it to Act 3 on my first (original character) playthrough like a week before Patch 5 came out, and after finding it absolutely unplayable (on the PS5) decided it was time to go ahead and start an origin character run for the funsies while waiting on the new patch to fix the Lag Hell. Naturally, I picked Gale. Since this was mostly just for fun/to hold me over until I could continue my other file, I decided it would be a nice time to see what happens if you just refuse to consume any magic items. Of course, if you are not playing as Gale and ignore his Orb Problem, he will apparently eventually leave your party, but what if you ARE Gale? I couldn't find an answer with a minimal amount of Googling SO

There are three stages to his Arcane Hunger, each of which give you increasingly debilitating debuffs: Arcane Hunger, Greater Arcane Hunger, and Severe Arcane Hunger. It seems the triggers for progressing to the next stage are the same as the triggers where he would start needing an item in my other file (i.e. that bridge next to the Blighted Village, entering the temple at the Goblin Camp, the Hag's Lair, etc.) which obviously makes sense. I figure with the amount of contingencies in this game for incredibly specific situations, surely there is some kind of unique dialog or fun cutscene that will play if I ignore the Arcane Hunger long enough and just play through the debuffs.

I played Act 1 completely normally, doing a lil quicksave every time I was about to Long Rest just in case the game gave me a cutscene of the big explosion upon waking up (I thought maybe it would be time-based, similar to the game over you get if Gale dies and you leave him for 3 days (? I think?) which does not seem to be the case). I made it through basically everything without anything odd happening besides the aforementioned debuffs. The Severe Arcane Hunger is where things get really sloggy, because Gale can only move at half speed.

I have been slowly trudging EVERYWHERE since the Goblin Camp.

I eventually started going out of my way to make sure I hit all the Arcane Hunger triggers I know about, to see what would happen, and the answer is nothing, aside from Gale occasionally reminding me that he's wracked with terrible pain.

So, surely, the game will certainly not let me into the Mountain Pass without SOMETHING happening, right?

WELL

That's surprising, but whatever, at least now I have the chance to see what happens if you go meet Elminster without having consumed any magic items,

Except

He wasn't there.

I went to the area in the Mountain Pass where the cutscene is supposed to start, and it just. Didn't happen. Nothing happened. I could walk right up to the entrance to the next area.

But SURELY, the game won't let me into the gotdamn Shadow-Cursed Lands without saying SOMETHING about the fact that the orb has been starving for several weeks at this point, right? The game isn't going to let me into Act Freaking 2 without at the very least giving me a game over to tell me I'm not allowed to do this and make me reload and actually feed this poor starving wizard, right?

RIGHT?

WELL

WELL

Here we are. I'm at the Last Light Inn, I'm at the Taco Bell, I'm at the combination Last Light Inn Taco Bell with a bag full of delicious Cheesy Gordita Magic Boots that I refuse to eat.

SO LIKE. How far does this go??? Am I gonna be able to infiltrate Moonrise Towers without ever speaking to Elminster? Am I gonna trudge all the way to Ketheric at half freaking speed and fight him with Disadvantage on everything?? Am I gonna make it all the way to goddang Baldur's Gate with a Netherese orb that is long overdue to explode???

Like I said, I did not find an answer on what happens if you do this on a Gale Origin playthrough, and at this point, I don't even want to, I just want to see how far I can take this.

I already know I'll have to do another normal Gale playthrough where I actually FEED HIM after this, because I'm sure I've missed out on a ton of dialogue and whatnot, especially from Tara who only ever has this to say when I speak with her in camp:

I am genuinely beginning to wonder if there is actually nothing in place to stop me from doing this. I am wondering what the dialogue options will look like when I get to the "Heart of the Absolute" where Gale would ordinarily want to blow himself up, if Elminster had ever shown up to tell him to do so. Maybe the devs just didn't bother, and figured that no one would be stupid and stubborn enough to play through the whole dang thing while so severely debuffed.

Joke's on them, Disadvantage means NOTHING to Magic Missile Machine Gale Dekarios.

[bloodiedrogue]

A FOOLISH LOVER'S OFFERING (10)

SUMMARY: On the way to Moonrise you and Astarion talk about some important things.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 3,060

WARNINGS: Spoilers for Act 2 (henceforth there will be spoilers in all chapters here on out), ANGST, mentions of murder.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi this chapter single handedly took every brain cell I had to write so hopefully you like it because I just want to set it on fire for all the grief it has caused me!!

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST / NEXT CHAPTER

-

“Gods, I hate this place.”

Gripping your torch, you try your best to focus on the Harper’s. How they move through the shadows, navigating every twist and turn without issue, leading you through the pathways.

It hasn’t been long since you’ve started your journey. No longer can you see the shining veil of the Inn but, given what you know, you’re well aware that your destination isn’t nearly ahead either. There’s still plenty of walking to do. A few hour's journey at the least. Perhaps more if Astarion insists on continuing to walk so slowly.

At your side, his eyes scan the trees with a heavy breath, taking in the decrepit scenery at such a leisurely pace that it makes you huff and glance around, noting the distance between you and the others. At this point, you’re close enough that you can still see them but too far to hear what any of them are saying —something you’re certain Astarion’s done on purpose when he plants his arm around your shoulder.

“You know, I happen to find it quite charming. All the dread and despair. It’s a bit like being at home.” 

You give him a look, raising your brow only to receive a snort in response, confirming that he’s (thankfully) kidding. “Ha, you think you’re so funny, don’t you?”

“Funny?” He moves his other hand to his chest, placing it against his leathers. “Darling, I’m hilarious.” 

“Yes, yes, a real jester.” 

His fingers flex around your shoulder, squeezing. “I’ll have you know I’ve always been funny. Even before all this vampiric bullshit.” 

“Yeah?”

He nods, a slight thought flashing across his face that makes you wonder what he’s thinking about. Given the circumstances, you assume it’s a thought of the past. Perhaps of his life before Cazador’s reign. When he was merely an elf roaming topside around Baldur’s Gate without a care in the world. You imagine he was funny back then. Mischievous. Probably a little too out there, even for a magistrate considering the personality you’ve grown to love. Based on pure assumption, he probably had more fun in one night than you in a lifetime, spending his hard-earning coin on good food and drinks and—

“It’s rude to stare, you know.” He pulls you tighter into him, using his free hand to pluck the torch out of your hand so that you can wrap yourself around him. As you do, both of you breathe a sigh of what feels like relief, even though you’re currently experiencing anything but.

“Sorry.”

“Well, you were staring at me, so I suppose I can forgive.” 

“Many thanks, my liege.” 

He growls suggestively under his breath, making you scoff. “My liege, hm, I could get behind that.” 

“Of course you could.” 

“My liege,” he repeats, tasting it on his tongue, eyeing you with a lusty gaze that doesn’t quite make its mark. 

Which only furthers the assumption that he’s deep inside his head still. Sifting through thoughts you’re completely unaware of as you walk in tandem to your potential untimely end. Almost immediately, it makes you wonder if maybe this is the right time to start asking questions. To finally speak up about the inquiries that have filed through your skull. Because after this, there’s no telling where you may find yourselves. You could be killed or locked away —lost to an abyss of some kind.

The options are endless; however, time is not, so instead of stewing in the silence you currently find yourselves in, you look up at him, taking in the shape of his face.

You’ve known him long enough now to know that the comments he often makes about his beauty are true. In appearance, he’s almost otherworldly. A beacon of well-aged flesh your eyes feel constantly drawn to. Whenever he’s around there’s this feeling of awe that comes forth. A subtle beating in your chest that quickens each time he’s present. When you look at him —really look at him— your eyes tend to open a little wider, surprised by how every feature seems to fit so perfectly in place. How everything feels uncharacteristically cohesive given his time spent abused beneath the moon, forced to stave and serve for all eternity. 

If it weren’t for the issue of Cazador you’d be convinced he was blessed by the Gods themselves. Melded by their very hands to create a being of such high temptation and desire. You imagine them brainstorming his existence. Tirelessly spending weeks on end crafting the perfect specimen that would ultimately end up broken. 

You realize then, taking in the lines that have developed throughout countless bouts of false grinning, that the very thing he loves most about himself was more than likely the result of his own downfall.

A downfall you find you’re still curious about. Even after your conversation, Astarion’s life before all this still holds an air of mystery. Between details already revealed, there are still patches of missing information. Sections of time where assumptions feel wrong but asking feels just as bad. And because of that, deep down, you know you should leave the curiosity alone. Pack it into the back of your mind for later use, but with the oncoming war and no determined outcome, you instead loosen your hold and take a side step. 

“Can I ask you something?”

He narrows his eyes, readjusting his position now that you’re not locked against him, suddenly looking awkward as he puffs out his chest. “Depends.” 

“On?”

“Whether or not the question is going to be depressing,” he replies. “Because you have that look in your eye.”

“What look?”

He reaches out to poke your forehead, pressing it roughly. “The one where your brows look like they’re going to become one at a moment’s notice.”

Swatting his hand away, you twitch your brows back into their proper positioning, annoyed. “I was going to ask about Cazador,” you tell him, truthfully. “I know he’s probably not a topic you want to discuss as we waltz to our potential doom but —I don’t know— I just have questions.” 

He sighs deeply, drawing out his breath before giving you an unimpressed look that speaks volumes.

He doesn’t want to talk about it. Nor do you, but at the same time, you’re at the point where you’re unable to deny your interest because Astarion’s your friend. A companion you cherish more than you know you should. A person whose well-being is so important you’d virtually do anything to maintain it. Which is why you’re determined to pry a bit more than usual. Taking these final moments you have to yourself to ask the one question you’ve been wondering for ages. 

“What will you do about him? When this is all over.”

Surprisingly, there’s no hesitation in his words when he tells you he’ll kill him. As you continue along the path, listening to him come up with all the vile ways he’d do it, you find yourself strangely calm. Numb almost to the descriptions of stakes being driven into hearts or knives slicing through jugular veins. Lost in the way he throws your torch around with every passing phrase.

“Personally, I think a stake to the heart’s a bit cheap,” you eventually comment, watching him laugh. Hearing the way the sound quickly flutters out and hits your ears, making you smile despite the subject matter. 

“It’s a classic for a reason, my dear.” 

“Is it though? I mean, in my experience there’s far better ways to kill someone.”

“Is there, now? Do tell.” 

You’re not sure if it’s just because you’ve grown used to the excessive violence throughout your journey or because Astarion’s tendencies have potentially rubbed off on you. Either way, as the two of you joke of his master’s demise you find yourself wondering if maybe such a result is even plausible. Sure, you’ve never killed a vampire. Hell, before Astarion you’re not even sure you’ve seen one up close, but for him, you’d be willing to try. Especially given the ever-growing lack of regard for your own safety.

“Honestly, the only thing that’s coming to mind is cutting him open and doing something to his innards.” 

His brows shoot up in surprise, making you laugh. “Mm, a cold-blooded killer after my own heart.”

You roll your eyes, prompting his hand to subtly grip your own. Tangling your fingers together, he raises your palm carefully up to his lips and places a lingering kiss. One that tickles your flesh long after he’s gone, leaving you grinning like a fool, wondering if this is what love feels like. 

You imagine it is. Deep beneath the surface, your chest is tight but not with fear. Instead, there’s only warmth that spreads —a growing sensation of heat that wraps around your lungs and heart. Filling you with this discomforting ache that only he can alleviate. So much so that it makes you want to scream sometimes, knowing he’s the cause. That somehow through his charms and tricks he’s managed to find a home inside your chest without permission. How he’s sliced you open with that wicked grin and crawled inside, calling you darling all the while. 

It makes you wonder if he feels the same. If all the afflictions he’s given you are returned in some capacity. If when you look at him his mouth goes dry or his heart skips a beat. Or the longing to be near is indeed reciprocated and not just another plot to keep you close.

Because sometimes it’s hard to tell. 

Throughout your journey, you’ve gone back and forth a hundred times, debating the possibilities —weighing the pros and cons of every interaction that you’ve ever had. Even now, knowing such trivial thoughts should be the last thing on your mind, you can’t help but wonder: does he care for you? Truly? Does he think of you? Does he look for you? Within his everyday thoughts does your presence linger in the background, waiting for the right moment to be put on full display for him to admire?

Does he love you?

“You know, if you ever need help with the whole murdering Cazador thing…”

It sounds ridiculous when you say it. So nonchalant and unfazed. Even you have to cringe at the way you trail off, waiting for him to speak. Praying that he’ll laugh or scoff or say literally anything to fill the silence you find yourselves walking through. 

It takes him a while but eventually, you hear him quietly sigh, his gaze moving to view your nervous face. “It won’t be easy, you know. Cazador isn’t some vagabond with a blade, he’s—“

“I know.”

“No, you don’t.”

He says it like a warning. As if he’s preparing to scold you for speaking out of term, narrowing his eyes with a huff. “Darling, I appreciate the enthusiasm but Cazador —he’s different. He’s not like the villains we’ve faced thus far. He isn’t motivated by greed or lust. The only thing he wants is power. Power over me —over you.” 

He pauses then, swallowing hard. Making it apparent then that this hypothetical conversation of murderous jokes has turned into something far more real. That your offering is no longer a mere gesture of kindness but instead a potential act of solidarity. One that you extend further by running your thumb along his, applying a bit of pressure at the joint, feeling him twitch. 

“You know there’s very little I wouldn’t do for you, right?” 

In an instant his eyes are on you, staring in surprise, trying to process the words that’ve just spilled through your lips. At first, they’re focused on their position, fully immersed in the way you clear your throat, trying to suppress a nervous laugh as you continue to grip his hand. Not long after though, they start to go distant, moving past your face to view the trees behind you, fizzling out of reality so quick that all you can do is try to pull him back. 

“I know you probably think I’m in idiot for even suggesting that fact that I may be capable of killing someone who spent centuries in control of so many people—“

“A bit, yes.” 

You snort, watching him slowly start to return to you, his lips curling into a half smile you can’t help but reach out and touch, stopping your stride. “But I would do anything you asked of me. Even if it meant death, I would kill that bastard for you without hesitation. Whatever way you wanted, whether it’s decapitation or throwing him off a bloody cliff or—“

The light of the torch shifts as his hand slips out of yours, taking hold of your head to guide you to his lips. To press his mouth to yours with such need that the breath within your lungs is ripped out. Swallowed behind his starving tongue —lapping whatever life you have to offer as his hand drifts over your cheek, taking hold of your flesh to keep you from leaving.

Standing still, you can feel the tenseness of his frame as it all happens. How aside from his mouth and hand the rest of him refuses to move, prompting you to reach out, running your hands along his sides, coaxing him to relax. 

When his body does, you slowly pull away, sucking in air like your life depends on it, watching with half-lidded eyes and swollen lips as he opens his mouth to speak, stuttering out something incoherent before swearing under his breath. 

Narrowing your eyes further, you watch him struggle to speak, wondering what could be going on in that complicated brain of his as he turns his body, releasing you from his grasp in favour of moving forward again.

Immediately, it makes you drop your jaw in annoyance, watching his hands move towards his hair, gripping his locks in frustration as you hear him mutter to himself and continue to move, leaving you behind. 

“Hold on, you’re just going to kiss me like that and walk away?” 

He doesn’t even turn to acknowledge you as you yell, making you even angrier as you race toward him, placing a rough hand against his shoulder to gain his attention. 

“Astarion—“

“Do you mean it?”

Your mouth twitches when he turns, looking at you with angry eyes. Scanning you with knitted brows filled with so much frustration all you can do is breathe and nod.

“Why?”

Because I love you. 

“Because…”

“Tell me.”

Your mouth is drier than it’s ever been, making it hard for you to form the words as you feel your tongue poke out to wet your lips. “I—“

His shoulder shifts from your grasp in one quick motion, leaving you bare —untethered and weak against the aggression of his eyes staring you down. “You know, I’ve spent centuries coming up with all the ways I’d do it. How I’d kill him if given the chance.”

You watch his gaze move to the trees again, travelling elsewhere even though you’re here, standing still in front of him, already wondering how you'll get him back.

“Despite the scenarios being nothing but my foolish imagination running rampant, every time I end up suffering. Forced further into madness —pushed to the brink of what my body is capable of handling.” He shakes his head before raising it, blinking back tears that make your body ache. “Even in my wildest dreams I cannot win against his torment and yet… the moment you mention it… the moment you look at me with those eyes—” 

Hearing him choke back a nervous laugh, this time it’s you who’s on him, clutching his face with both hands, pressing your thumbs to the inner corners of his eyes to wipe away the liquid that continues to pool.

“Why are you so willing to help me do the unimaginable?”

This time there’s no hesitation. No moment of thought that graces your mind as you smile up at him, pulling him further down with shaking hands to press your forehead to his. “It’s because I love you,” you tell him then. Barely above a whisper, you let it filter out like smoke, allowing it to envelop him entirely as you breathe and take him in, watching the way his lips unfurl and the anger laced within his features slips away. “And because the thought of allowing him to live after what he did to you fills me with a kind of rage I’m not sure I’ve ever felt before.”

His hand moves to stroke the side of your neck. Gently, his fingers run across the bite marks he's inflicted, marking their positions with two subtle taps before they glide away, rooting themselves at the back of your head for support. Forcing you to remain in the moment, realizing what you’ve just said.

It’s hardly the right time to admit your feelings. But then again, given the circumstances, you quickly remember that there really isn’t one. Considering you're in the middle of a war, on your way to Ketheric’s base, it’s very unlikely you’ll have a spare moment to clear your mind and properly say all the things you’ve been itching to say. 

Until the end, it’ll always feel like something’s missing —like you’ve forgotten an important phrase or detail. That whatever you say will never be enough to fully convey the weight of how he makes you feel each time he looks you up and down or makes you laugh. 

Even as you stand before him now, holding him tight —watching the tears within his eyes threaten to spill once again, you know nothing you say will ever amount to the ache inside your chest, knowing that you’ve managed to give him the last sliver of hope you have to offer. 

“I love you, Astarion,” you repeat then, praying this time it holds its weight. That the nervous rush inside your stomach passes through and all you’re left with is the kind of warmth you’ve only read about in stories.

His jaw is slack as you repeat your confession, shifting in a way that makes you more nervous than it should, watching him blink and hearing him breathe —doing everything but speak the words you want to hear as Shadowheart calls your name, pulling you both away to notice the annoyed look on her face as she tells you to hurry up. 

-

TAGLIST:

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[y-rhywbeth2]

In your post about Durge's sudden normality you mentioned implied SA in the tags; would you mind elaborating on that? I don't remember seeing any implications like that, but I know I missed a lot of details in my first run. (Obviously if you would mind feel free to ignore this.)

Naturally this is going under a cut for discussion of rape, sexual exploitation and incest:

Some of it is mostly me reading into things and frowning, but Bhaal being able to violate Durge sexually and the intent of sexual exploitation (regardless of Durge's will) is canon and it does lend credence to the idea.

Durge is obligated to breed, and Bhaal can and will force them to; the original version of the feral ending in the dialogue files involves him forcing them into a state of sexual hyperarousal and forcing them to mate with a gnoll, in the same way he can force the urge to slay on them. Bhaal's intention there is to see if he can breed more monstrous Bhaalspawn. Some of the dialogue options are just Durge screaming in horror.

Durge has no memory of the actual rape; Bhaal forces them to spend the entire time thinking about him: "Your memory of last night's act is absent. In the moment of mounting, your mind emptied itself, and you could think only of Bhaal."

And knowing that, when I saw "I love you father. I'm a good [child], a good, good [child]" in the released version I had to go sit down for a bit.

We know that Durge is expected to have kids - it's a mortal sin that they haven't. It's also vague whether they tried or not pre-amnesia; they're described as "failing" not refusing, it could've gone either way. Durge may already have been exploited. Even if they don't disappoint Bhaal in game, this "duty" remains. It's not just the Tribunal making shit up; Sceleritas is your direct liaison to Bhaal, and he makes this clear to them as Bhaal's Chosen too.

We know that if Durge won't kill then Bhaal will force them to, and we know that he can force them to have sex too. It's entirely possible that Durge's only say in this is to either fuck partners they chose or have them chosen for them (as we all know, Bhaal has zero respect for his kids' bodily autonomy or desires past his use for them, and Bhaal wants more babies.)

At the very least, it doesn't seem to be a major part of Bhaal's plan for Durge yet, so Durge may have dodged this specific form of abuse for now.

Bhaal has also done this to Sarevok, it seems, who would probably have killed himself back in BG1+2 if he could see what would happen to him in his future.

Knowing that Bhaal has no issues inflicting sexual arousal on his own kids, those scriptures you find that explicitly refer to the pleasure he bestows on his followers when they kill as "erotic" unfortunately have little reason not to be applied to Bhaalspawn. It would also explain the necrophilia if Durge has been conditioned to see killing/corpses as sexual.

Not quite the same thing, but the thing where people think Durge fucked the Netherbrain is actually from a remark by Bhaal in the journal update, where he makes a crack that "That slimy thing in the Moonrise called you its fallen star. It was very reverent [...] apparently [you're] good at playing with tentacles."

That's not inherently sexual, but knowing that Bhaal is willing to sexually exploit Durge and that the fandom had already interpreted it as sexual, I did kind of stare at it in horror for a bit.

[pennyblossom-meta]

Gale/Wyll banter

Here's a collection of Gale/Wyll banter that I found in the dialogue files. I hope this is useful as both fanfiction resources and general curiosity :)

Help: I'm fairly sure there's a line from Wyll (?) mentioning how Gale doesn't ever eat vegetables, but for the life of me I can't find it. UPDATE 30/12/2023: Found it and added it to the post, the banter happens with the MC during the tiefling party. Also added a couple more interesting tidbits of dialogue.

Warning: long post.

Act 01

Loss of powers

Wyll points out that he used to kill big monsters, and now a few goblins are a challenge. What gives? Gale remarks it must be the tadpole. Wyll: Was a time I tussled with hill giants without breaking a sweat. Wyll: Now, a mere werebear could swat me halfway to Amn. devnote: Amn = city on the Sword Coast. Pronounced "AAHM" like UK Eng "arm". Gale: Strange things are happening to us. What festers in our minds may well impel our bodies.

—

Netherese magic

Wyll recalls the hag said 'Netherese' and asks Gale what he knows. Astarion adds a thought if he is present. Wyll: Ethel mentioned Netherese magic. What in blazes does that mean? Gale: Magic from the fallen empire of Netheril. Ancient, exceedingly dangerous, and quite unrivalled. Astarion: Wonderful! I'd hate to be destroyed by any common old magic. devnote: A little sarcastic. You've been told the dangerous magic inside you is ancient and unrivalled

—

Goblin raids

Wyll: I've known goblin raiders to slaughter entire villages and strip them for loot - but I've never seen one ravaged like this. Gale: It's hard to imagine anyone who'd willingly inflict such devastation, be they zealots, marauders, invading armies... A sign of far worse to come, I fear.

—

Act 02

Mountain Pass

Gale: These cragged hillls make for weary soles. I see why most headed inland prefer the smooth sailing of the Chionthar. Wyll: More importantly, the land west of here suffers under a terrible curse. Gale: You've seen it for yourself? Wyll: I've glimpsed that doom during my travels, but never dared get close. Wyll: If we continue this way, we may get too close for comfort.

—

Scary woods

Wyll: What a dismal forest. Monsters could be lurking behind any and every tree. Gale: We'd be wise to fear the trees themselves. It feels like the forest itself longs for our destruction. devnote: serious Wyll: Frustrating, that. Wyll: Monsters, I can fight. But I can no more sever these shadows than I could the wind or the sun.

—

Approaching Moonrise

Gale: Moonrise Towers lies ahead. We're nearing the Heart of the Absolute, I'm certain of it. Wyll: Then let us push forward, heads high, weapons in hand, and turn this tower to rubble. Gale: Your confidence is encouraging but a little premature. Let's keep our eyes on the task ahead. Or eye, as the case may be.

—

Tollhouse

Gale: A tollhouse like this would only be merited in the most prosperous of settlements. This was once a thriving trade route. Wyll: Should it be any wonder? The Chionthar's waters carry merchant vessels from as far east as Berdusk. devnote: bur-DUSK Wyll: And they wouldn't have brought just trade goods, but song, dance, and custom. Riches of the mind and the spirit. Wyll: So much was lost when the darkness fell.

—

At the Mason's Guild

Gale: The masons here thought they were building something to last. How wrong they were. Wyll: Perhaps it's a blessing that none of them survived to see it fall to the shadows. Gale: No need for such a grim assumption. Halsin helped many to escape these shadows before the town was consumed. Wyll: Then some masons were more blessed still, if they could put their talents to use elsewhere. Wyll: Perhaps some of their work even graces Baldur's Gate.

—

Guildhall

Wyll: It might seem a bit ramshackle, but this place has a boastworthy bar. Gale: A bar is only as good as its cellars. Which vintages can we expect to find on their racks? devnote: Anticipating a nice drink Wyll: Here, a bottle is judged more by its ability to crack heads than the quality of its contents. Gale: Ah. If that's the main criteria then I shall reset my expectations accordingly. Water it is. devnote: Good humoured

—

House of Healing

Wyll: This was a hospital? Feels more like a prison. Gale: A common enough interpretation. Sickness has a nasty habit of making you feel trapped, if only within the confines of your own body. Gale: I once spent weeks convalescing in the Hospice of St Laupsenn (*) after a nasty bout of ruddy pox. For all their kindness, leaving that place behind felt like freedom to me. Wyll: I've always relied on the kindness of the healers and menders of the Coast. Better a cleric's healing touch than a chirurgeon's scalpel.

(Lore note*): The Hospice of St. Laupsenn is a temple of Ilmater in the North Ward of Waterdeep.

—

Moonrise General_AssaultState

Wyll: This is it, Gale - today, we annihilate the heart of the Absolute's power. The bards will sing of our victory here. Gale: Entirely unnecessary. Though if they are so inclined, I might be convinced to share a stanza or two of my own for inspiration. devnote: Feigned modesty

—

Moonrise General

Wyll: This is no aimless horde - the Absolute's forces are organised. What do you make of it, Gale? Gale: All enemies have some chink in their armour, no matter how much they like to believe themselves invulnerable. That's what we must find. devnote: Cheery/determined Wyll: And if we don't find any clear weakness? Gale: Then we hope our mutual strengths are enough to dominate them. Or, we die nobly in the attempt. devnote: Cheery/determined

—

Moonrise Prison

Gale: Not a devil in sight. How disappointing. COL_MizorasRescue_State_SavedMizora = False, TWN_Wyll_State_MizorasCaptureHappened, MOO_MizorasRescue_Event_WalkedAway = False Wyll: I doubt a few iron bars are sufficient to hold one of Zariel's. Gale: True enough. But an illithid pod? That would probably do the trick. devnote: Cogs whirring Wyll: I wager you're right. Ah, Gale - what a pleasure to see a genius' mind at work.

Wyll: Of course Mizora was Zariel's captured asset. How did I not see it coming? TWN_Wyll_State_MizorasCaptureHappened Gale: It's in a devil's nature to conceal the truth - you can't fault yourself for that. Wyll: I've been pacted for seven years on, Gale. I should be able to read between Mizora's lines by now, no matter how narrow the gap.

Gale: How long have you been pacted to Mizora, Wyll? Wyll: Seven years. Seven years of hunting the monsters of the Sword Coast - and seven years of Mizora's tight leash. Wyll: And seven years of wondering if I'd ever rid myself of her - or if I even should.

—

Act 03

At the Basilisk Gate

Gale: The history of the city itself is captured in the archives here - a fascinating resource. Wyll: I wonder what those archives will reveal about us a hundred years hence. Gale: Only the most excellent and complimentary things. With some encouragement from us, of course.

—

Morphic Pool

Gale: Whatever the outcome of what's just ahead, it will be the stuff of legends. Wyll: In that case, someone needs to survive to tell the story. Gale: My money's on you, Wyll. Wyll: I'm betting on all of us.

—

Misc banter

Gale's ticking time bombs

Wyll points out that Gale has two ticking time-bombs inside him - but he's holding together pretty well. Wyll: I admire your courage, Gale. Gale: Thank you. Any particular reason? Wyll: Between the orb and the bug, you've got more than your fair share of unwelcome passengers. Gale: What can I say? Mother always taught me to be a gracious host.

—

Wyll thinks Gale has potential

Wyll tells Gale he's got potential, and suggests he rename himself something more... heroic. Gale finds Wyll quite the tryhard. Wyll: You're an impressive fighter, Gale. You should consider a new name. Gale: I take it you have some suggestions? Wyll: 'The Wizard Wonder!' Or how about, 'The Master of the Weave'? Gale: Tempting. But I think we might already have the maximum number of theatrical titles.

—

With Laz'el and Wyll

Lae'zel notes that Gale knows a lot about mind flayers. He responds with information about his training. If there, Wyll chimes in as well. Lae'zel: You strike me cleverer than most istiki, Gale. Multiple tutors, I should guess. devnote: istiki - non-gith. IH-stick-ee Gale: Many a wise man and woman indeed. Waterdeep is the home of myriad scholars. Wyll: Ah, the City of Splendours. Spent a whole Fleetswake there with my father. What a delight.

—

Romance

The following dialogues are marked as ROM, which I assume is a flag for triggering when there's an active Romance with the MC.

Romance banter, Act 1

Gale: If your natural charm isn't quite up to scratch, Wyll, there are magical means of adding a little flourish of charisma. Wyll: A kind offer, but I think I'd rather pursue things the old fashioned way.

Gale: Have you noticed any attachments of the more, erm, romantic variety flourishing in our camp, Wyll? devnote: Fishing for info, a bit awkward. Wyll: I think I'm not the right person to be asking. Wyll: I can recognise a troll's silhouette on a far horizon, but I wouldn't know a flirtation if you whacked me alongside the head with it.

—

Romance banter, Act 2

Gale: I knew you were a graceful man, Wyll, but I hear you're quite the dancer too. Gale: I've been known to trip the light fantastic myself. Mine was a popular hand at the annual Blackstaff's Ball. Wyll: I'd have love to have witnessed it, Gale. I wager you are as elegant on the dance floor as you are on the battlefield.

Gale: I've heard that in Baldur's Gate, 'wizard' is also a term used for one who eschews their more, ahem, carnal desires. Is that true, Wyll? devnote: Fishing for info, a bit annoyed about what he's heard Wyll: Where are we going with this, Gale? Gale: Oh, nowhere. I just think it a rather cruel misnomer. Not at all reflective of the glamour wizarding life affords. devnote: A bit sulky/sensitive about it

—

Romance banter, Act 3

Wyll: I'm probably going to regret this, but Gale - if I'm to be wed, would you like to make a speech? Gale: You've asked the right wizard. My oratory skills have left many a wedding guest weeping in their seat. devnote: Honoured/very excited at the prospect of speaking at length. Oblivious as to why his previous listeners might have been left weeping… Wyll: Promise it will last less than half an hour? Gale: I can promise it will feel like less than half an hour... devnote: Trying to avoid committing to a short speech

Wyll: I used to believe the beauty of first love was unable to be surpassed. Wyll: But Gale - you are so much more tolerable now you've found your second. Gale: I'll take that comment with the sincerity and good will I assume it was intended. devnote: Not rising to it, cheerful

—

Misc quotes

Tiefling party

Gale: Wyll's a good man. He may actually be a tried-and-true storybook hero. Gale: Then again he's so full of himself it's a small miracle he hasn't resorted to self-cannibalism yet.

Wyll: You're running away from Gale's cooking. Wyll: It's delicious, don't get me wrong, but that man wouldn't eat a vegetable unless Mystra herself commanded it.

Other

Gale: So, you didn't fancy sharpening up the old moniker? I'd have thought the 'Blade of Frontiers' might be feeling a bit dull after all you've been through.

Player: Sounds heavenly. Mind if I join you? Wyll: Not at all. You hunt the deer, I'll scrounge up the ale. Prepare your belly for roast a la Ravengard! Wyll: Let's hope Gale doesn't take offence if I assume cooking duties, just the once.

[oathkeeper-of-tarth]

Dame Aylin does not worry; she strategises.

This is something I started as part of a little examination of writing Aylin's voice, but think might be neat as its own post. It does provide a nice quick look at how she constructs her glorious dramatic proclamations and when exactly she refers to herself in the third person.

So I give you, directly from the game files: every time Dame Aylin says Dame Aylin.

To kick it off, the line she has if you attack her in camp:

You defile our alliance with violence. A disappointment - but not a threat to Dame Aylin, immortal.

Some lines from the end of Act 2, the Moonrise debrief, and the first time she comes to camp:

You have defeated Ketheric Thorm, yet you who were content to leave Dame Aylin in his thrall until it served you best. How do you account for it? But Dame Aylin's life is neverending. And she does not forget. Now - I believe Isobel asked a question of you. We will meet you in your camp - is it agreed? Do not speak so abruptly to the mate of Dame Aylin, daughter of the Moonmaiden, paladin of - You would deny Dame Aylin, daughter of the Moonmaiden, paladin of the selfsame Selûne? And you - Sharran. Cleric of the Lady of Loss, who is so much more than she appears. You and Dame Aylin have dangerous ground to tread. Moonmaiden, I ask you to cleanse the wickedness in the heart of the slayer of Ketheric Thorm! Forgive them the sin of sending Dame Aylin into his foul clutches! Hmm. Ketheric Thorm. Father of my one and only love. Enslaver of Dame Aylin. Why, she already has. She has brought her sword to your side. Dame Aylin.

Moving on to Act 3, talking about Lorroakan looking for her (and possibly discussing Aradin and his fellow mercs as well):

Is he indeed? Pray tell, what does he seek from Dame Aylin? Let them come, and let them find me. Dame Aylin will strike down any who seek to bring her to harm's home. Do not speak false to Dame Aylin. Not after all we have endured. Dame Aylin will face him. You will wield your glorious might at her side. Let us split him, crotch to crown, and let his twin halves fall where they may. Your intuitions are my lodestar, darling. But consider: now that Dame Aylin has returned to the fold of time, she could use allies and interlocutors. Hmm. If you judge him worth the endeavour, then I will do as you say. Now that Dame Aylin has returned to the fold of time, she will need allies and interlocutors. But Dame Aylin's deeds are great; her presence - present. Sooner or later, he will discover that the daughter of Selûne lives. Dame Aylin does not worry; she strategises. Our camp has been besieged by bribelings. And Dame Aylin is the prize that seduced them. There can be no doubt about it. But even Dame Aylin experiences lapses in her fine judgement. To Ramazith's Tower they were meant to take me. Ho! Won't Lorroakan be surprised when Dame Aylin trounces him in his own citadel. Oh, I hope he tries. Please, Lorroakan, come to me with your magicks and your flaccid charms. Attempt to lay one hairy finger upon Dame Aylin, daughter of Selûne most high.

Then, the showdown in Ramazith's Tower proper - first two if you side with her, the rest if she is betrayed:

Magicians and their plans for Dame Aylin. Predictable; sadistic; flaccid. Dame Aylin is watching. She is indomitable. And when her face lights the shadows of your wrongdoing, you are broken by its beauty. Dame Aylin does not go anywhere quietly. Do not tell Isobel what fate has befallen Dame Aylin. She must not enter this viper's den. When next we meet, no words will cross Dame Aylin's lips, but her sword will find your flesh and make of it her sheath.

Post-wizard camp conversations:

Set your mind at ease, my friend. Dame Aylin is more well now than she has been this past century. Ha! I am not surprised. You have a great talent for tearing down Dame Aylin's enemies. Thank you, my friend. From the bottom of my heart. But fear not: When the time comes for you to face the foe of foes, Dame Aylin will stand at your side.

A couple of battle cries - first one from the Act 2 final boss if you don't free her until then, and the second from the Act 3 final battle:

MOONMAIDEN, HEAR ME! DAME AYLIN IS FREE! Dame Aylin will not let this place fall!

I'm also going to include her introductions, though that's obviously a bit of a different case:

I am Dame Aylin. Out of this hellish realm I carry my sword by the blessing of my mother, Selûne. I am Dame Aylin. Daughter of the Moonmaiden, Selûne; champion of her causes in this fine realm. You will address me with due deference. I am Dame Aylin. And you are a whelp without honour, without pride, with nothing but a tower full of trinkets.

And, finally, we have a couple of written notes - very, very different in tone. First, a threatening, ominous promise she leaves behind if you betray her to Lorroakan, but he dies and Rolan fails to bind her:

Dame Aylin has never had an enemy She did not destroy, A traitor She did not undo. Dame Aylin has never died And stayed dead. No, she waits, waits, until The one she hates sleeps, alone, in bed and then and then she strikes.

Chilling, and calls to mind her vows of vengeance if you mess with her in the Shadowfell. I don't know if I'd find it scarier delivered in an angry scrawl or with some perfect fancy penmanship.

The second note is, alas, her epilogue letter if Isobel has died:

Ally mine, It has been a full half-year since last we spoke. Your great victory against the wicked brain of brains still plays before my eyes by nights; ho, it was a sight I'll cherish for the remainder of my infinite days. I hope these last turns of my mother's face in the sky have brought you rest and peace. But rest has not found Dame Aylin, no - I pursue the heels of a villain no less foul than the so-called 'Absolute'. An assailant who has targeted Selûnite enclaves across the coast. But fear not! Dame Aylin will find them. And you have seen yourself what she does to those deserving of her boot. The road is long. It is lonely. And I have not forgotten all I've lost. But I cherish what I have found, too. Yours eternally, Dame Aylin Daughter of the Moonmaiden Selûne The Nightsong-no-more Anon and Everlasting

And finally, to end this post on a high note, the beautiful PS she adds to Isobel's epilogue letter:

P.S. IT IS I, DAME AYLIN! I SEND MY REGARDS!

There you have it! Hope at least someone finds this amusing and/or useful.

[merrinla]

Halsin and Minthara weren't always mutually exclusive

Even though you can recruit both of them, in the game it looks like a funny bug. I guess this is what's left of the original idea. It was previously planned not only letting you have them at the same time, but also that they would interact in the party like other companions.

In the audio files, you can find lines of their reactions to each other's deaths. I don't know if these are triggered or not. They are both so bugged that sometimes I can hardly tell which is the cut content and which is the bug.

It's kind of funny that Halsin would be so sad.

I recently completed Halsin's quest with Mintara in my party. In the scene by the lake, when Halsin entered the portal, Minthara said "He made it. Now let's just hope he survives what's on the other side"

Actually this is exactly the same line as Tav's.

Halsin also share many lines with Tav and other origins. Most of them are unused. But in this case the line is not only voiced by Emma Gregory (Minthara's VA), it's triggered.

There is another interesting line. In Moonrise Towers, when Ketheric punishes Mintara for a failure in the grove and sends her to the dungeon, the player can choose not to interfere and leave the location without helping her. In this case one of the characters in your party will remind you that she can be saved as a potential companion. I was wondering if Halsin would say anything. And he did. "Minthara may prove useful to us, should we wish to save her…"

This isn't cut content. This isn't new content added with patches. It's in the game since the release. And this line works. Moreover, this is his personal line.

If they implement the dialogue with an ultimatum it will be nonsense. I mean, first he suggests to save her from the Absolute as a useful ally, and then in the camp he will say that it's the right choice to kick her back under the Absolute control. It's even hard to blame the character for such contradiction. Rather, it's just a stupid limit set by the script.

Next. In Act 3 if you make one of them to go up on the clown stage, the other one will approve.

There is also an unused flag for Act 3 in the game files with the description "Orin pretended to kill Halsin during the Minthara abduction campnight." Which means in Act 3 they were both in the party.

You can see what the abduction of Mintara looks like in this video. Only instead of Halsin, Jaheira is mentioned here.

Maybe there are other confirmations that I do not know about, that they were not mutually exclusive before. But that's enough for me.

They were both not originally planned as companions. Their roles were expanded much later. Most likely, Larian didn't have time to polish their content, so scissors were used. This is why their content seems so unfinished compared to others. Except for Wyll, probably. That's why they are so buggy.

I suppose the reason they are both mutually exclusive is because it is the easiest solution when you have a deadline on the horizon. Just easiest as "it's fine for a companion to just hang out at the camp". Otherwise, you need dialogs, animations, scripts, etc. And you also need to make sure that it will work with everything else. This is time and resources. But this doesn't mean that it's impossible to fix anything later.

I faintly hope that the defenetive edition will have the option to recruit them both.

And I really hope that in the future Larian will look at the games of their colleagues from BioWare (who made the original BG). I mean games from better times than now. The companions below will show you how much they "loved" each other. Not all of them became friends in the end. But nevertheless, we saved the world. Together.

[ohsayit]

Steal His Shirt

Link to AO3 is here

Relationships: F!Tav/Zevlor Additional Tags: Penis In Vagina Sex, Friends With Benefits Summary: Post game. Zevlor settled down outside of Baldur's Gate. He got in to a weird relationship with Tav. One particular morning, Tav decided to mess with him by stealing his shirt. He was not impressed by her little game. Yet, she was sill quite entertaining. Word count: 3k

Zevlor was a simple man. He didn't need much possession to live his life. He preferred practicality over vanity. What good could a fanciful sword do if it broke at his first swing in combat?

After coming back from Avernus, he trimmed down his possessions even further. He only had so much time to pack up before he got exiled from the place he once guarded with his own life. Ceremonial armour was left behind as they were no longer needed. Ring with the commander's seal was taken from him as well as his home.

He got to keep his sword and gauntlet because he paid for those himself. He needed them for the road. He was filled with bitterness when his sword was returned to him. He looked at Helm’s symbol at the hilt next to the filing marks, where his rank once was, and decided to file the deity away himself. That was the most petty and revengeful thing he would do. For all the rubbish fate had thrown at him.

He eventually reached Baulder’s Gate with whoever survived that one Hell of a journey.

He was secretly glad that people died when the cult of Absolute bursted in the city. The thought was as low as it was practical. The tieflings that came with him had a better chance to settle in if the city was less crowded.

Once all the civilians settled down, there was only his fellow former Riders left. Some of the young ones joined the Fist. Some others grouped up to start their own adventure. A few of the older ones and his close associates decided to leave with him. Maybe he got his position stripped off him, but not these comrades who went through literal Hell with him.

They settled far out of reach of the Fist and their own kin. Their kin made it quite clear on their way from Moonrise Tower to Baldur’s Gate that they didn’t want any more to do with him unless it was life and death. Well, maybe they wanted him even less when it was life and death. Alas, his duty was fulfilled when they reached the city. He held up his end of things.

Zevlor really thought his soldiering days were beyond him. He thought he could try living a civilian life. However, power came back to him. He didn’t realise that his civilian life ended when power was granted to him a second time.

He lived to serve a purpose. Glory and honour were merely rewards that came along. Despite not knowing which god he should pray to, the power he wielded was true. He needed to do something with it. He couldn’t bear the thought that he held power only for it to go to waste.

Zevlor and his men settled in a medium-sized town. It sat along the way leading to Baldur’s Gate. Travellers and merchants that went through this place kept it busy. It was peaceful enough. They joined the local force run by the town.

They felt something was wrong shortly after. It was Serrell that pointed it out for them. Protecting a small place like this was too idle for them. Their training and discipline from the old days pushed them towards something bigger than the town they resided in.

To Zevlor’s surprise, everyone left the local force. He would have thought some would want to settle down. They seemed to be at the right age for that.

They formed a group and started to sign up for various missions. Their skills and might were proved to be very much needed. They gained reputation quickly. The youngest once said she lived more comfortably now than in Elturel. She made more or less the same money but a lot more freedom. Everyone seemed to be truly happy since Avernus.

One thing to Zevlor’s particular delight was seeing their new friend again.

He wrote to Tav before they left Baldur’s Gate and after they set up base here. He mentioned in the letters that she was welcome to visit any day. He didn’t expect her to come. She was the beloved hero, after all. Everyone wanted some of her.

From the interaction they had before, Zevlor knew their beloved hero was not the sweet girl with a pretty face she presented to the world. He liked her. She was a good ally and could be a good friend, most of the time.

Tav was very happy to see them. She sat next to Zevlor and drank the night away with them. She drank quite a bit and was leaning on him by the end of the night. His heart stirred but he knew better than overthinking. He just sat there and let her rest against his arm while participating in the chat and drank himself.

He didn’t drink much. As an unspoken rule, two others didn’t drink much either. The pair of them took all the drunk ones to Serrell’s for the night. He lived the closest to the tavern. Zelvor’s only mission was to escort Tav up to her room.

He was proved wrong. He didn’t overthink.

Once they were up the stairs, Tav didn’t look as drunk as she was when people were around. The way she dragged him into the bed with her, swiftly rode on his hips, and eagerly shoved her tongue into his mouth were forceful and passionate. Her eyes burned with lust when his name spilled from her lips. She knew what she was doing. She didn’t sit next to him by chance.

Maybe he was old. He was not dead.

He liked her.

He woke up at his usual time in the morning. Event from the previous night came to him. He got too comfortable in the bed with another body’s warmth. He missed the chance to get up and didn’t get a second one until noon that day.

She stayed for three nights. She was on her way elsewhere, just like all other travellers who set foot in this town. They were never to stay.

What more could he ask for?

He had no idea why she chose to spend her nights with him. He didn’t dwell on that one. He had a life now. He had a little home to himself in this town. He had his loyal companions. He had a purpose and the power to serve it. To ask for anything else would be greed.

However, he could hardly be blamed for being greedy.

Tav dropped by every month or two. She seemed to be always on her way somewhere. They had fallen into the habit of spending nights together whenever she stopped by.

Zevlor knew damn well if he wanted to have a life with someone, he should stop joining Tav at night. He told himself, there was no such person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, just yet. While he was searching for that special someone, maybe he could indulge a little. He was not immune to mortal desires and temptations.

Hells, when he realised that was a terrible idea, it was too late.

He didn’t like her for her pretty face. She was smart, cunning, steel minded, and practical. He had not seen another one of her type. He knew that if he wanted to settle for a life, her type would be a challenging choice, to say the least. The worst part was that he was very fond of everything that made her “Tav”.

They never knew each other’s schedule. Her visit was always a nice surprise. Tav arrived yesterday while Zevlor was meant to depart with his men today before noon.

It was easy for Zevlor to arrange himself. The team was to meet up at the tavern before departing. All he needed to do was to take his pack with him.

Winter was approaching. Temperature had dropped considerably over the past week or so. Sex was slow and lazy last night. She seemed to enjoy the heat from his infernal heritage more than anything. She could be such a tender and loving lover when she wanted to.

She grumbled when he left the bed. He saw her rolled over to his spot to consume the rest of his warmth. That gave him a little smile.

He gave himself a quick wash. When he came out, his shirt was not where he left it. She seemed to be still sleeping, so he quietly searched in the room.

He didn’t own a lot of things and he knew where they were. The only place left was her.

Now he remembered why he didn’t like young girls when he was a young lad. They were playful and usually were so at the wrong times.

He walked to her sleeping form and patted her shoulder firmly. She merely scooted away from him. He took a long breath and calmed himself: “I know you are awake. Give it back right now. I need it.”

Tav lazily opened her eyes and yawned. She stretched and got her arm out from under the cover. There his missing shirt was.

Zevlor took another deep breath and let it out: “Give it back now. I won’t repeat myself again.”

She slowly sat up in bed and let the cover fall. His shirt was a little too big for her. The sleeves covered half of her thumbs. She did most of the buttons up, except the top two and bottom one. The curtains were closed to keep the heat in. The room was lit with candles. The small patch of skin on her chest peeking through looked as sweet as honey in the warm light.

He shook his head, voice low like a growl: “Now.”

She was not threatened by him at all. She rolled onto her fours and crawled towards the edge of the bed. She purposefully made a show of her supple rear and plumped chest. Her hands crept up the side of his waist to his neck. She was kneeling on the bed and pressing her breast against his. She cooed: “What a cruel way to wake a poor girl up in the cold, soldier.” She had her arms around his neck and one hand playing with the tip of his ear.

Zevlor felt the softness and warmth from her body, but cool on his ear. Her hands were already cool. She only got out from under the cover for a brief moment. He told himself to not warm her hands with his. He kept a stern look.

She hugged him closer in his silence. She peppered kisses along his chin and jaw. Those lips were so close to his, but all he got was some fleeting touch at the corner of his mouth. He reminded himself not to move and suck on her lips.

She was amused by his resistance. She rubbed the tip of his ear between his fingers and sent tingles down his spine. She purred: “It was an awful lot of work to put it on. All these buttons…”

He cleared his throat: “You only have yourself to blame.” That sounded nothing like the scold he was delivering. Gods above.

He patted the side of her hip and sighed: “Enough games. Give it back, now.”

All the warning she gave was a few giggles. She held onto his neck, with her knees open, and manoeuvred her own weight to pull him down to the bed. His body reacted quicker than his mind. He put one hand behind her head and the other held his weight up above her. One of his knees was placed between her open knees.

His body got too familiar with her and displayed no resistance. The only response was not to crush all his weight on her. His body had its own mind.

She was giddy, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, looking up at him. She was quite happy with her childish play. Zevlor couldn’t hold back his smile and chuckled. One of her hands let go of his neck to reach for his behind her head. She gently led his hand down the side of her neck and onto her soft mound of flesh. The effort she put into playing innocent was minimal: “If you want it back, you will have to take it off.”

Desire burned inside him. This was a lost battle and he knew it. His thumb rubbed her nipple in a way that hardened it almost immediately. He played it between his fingers the way that made her breath quickened. His stare was intense. There was no more use in pulling a face: “I need to go soon.”

She let out a little moan when he pinched her: “You got up early. There is plenty of time for you to take me for a ride, my dear ride.” She reached with her foot to tickle the base of his tail. The tail coiled around her calf needed no further encouragement.

He said nothing but stared at her with flames in his eyes.

She pulled him down for a kiss grabbing his horn: “Don't be so cold. Give me a kiss and take me for a ride.”

Zevlor, she called.

Zevlor, she called again.

He answered.

His fingers made quick work of the buttons. Her smooth skin was there for him. He bowed and brushed the fabric aside with his nose. He needed to taste her skin and hear her moan. He sucked and bit her hardened nipple until she let out the first cry of pleasure.

After he undid the last button, his fingers brushed over her slit. She was wet already. He wasted no time and unlaced his pants. Once his cock jumped out of the confinement, he crawled into the bed. He was aching for more of her.

With the last bit of patience, he rubbed the tip on her clit then ran the ridges of his cock along those puffy lips. He noticed how much she liked it the first time they fucked. She arched her back and grinded her hips on his length. Every time she drove her clit over his ridges, she made more lovely noises.

Zevlor straightened himself up one more time. He dragged her towards him by the hips. He lined himself up and plunged to the hilt. By now, he knew better than to treat her with great care and gentleness. Those could wait until next time.

Her hips bucked to meet every thrust. Her hands were busy pleasuring herself up and down. Moans and gasps streamed for her parted lips. She got wetter with each motion. The sounds they made would make a grown woman blush.

She was magnificent.

That's what he liked about her: bold and unapologetically lively. She could ignite the world with it and cast any shadows away.

She looked divine in his shirt. Some part of him wished to keep her in it. He wanted to leave his mark on her, if he couldn’t be hers. How he sat awake some nights thinking about her, he would never tell her. How his mind wandered when young children ran past him, he would never mention to anyone. To share the pleasure of the flesh with her was beyond his wildest dreams.

He kept ramming into her and making good use of his length. Her whines and cries made him want to surrender and ravish at the same time. He hissed, grunted, growled, and sighed. Her cunt was perfect for him. Her wetness and tight grip on every single ridge on his cock gave him so much joy.

He was close but she was closer. She writhed under him. The knees that hugged the sides of his waist wanted to close up on him. He grabbed the back of them and pushed down. His tail released her calf and hugged her waist instead. He leaned down to her beautifully opened front and kissed her: “You are going to be the death of me.”

The moment of bliss was near. She latched onto him when he gave her a kiss. His tail felt every ragged breath. Tears slid down her temples while she sucked his tongue. Her hand was firm on his horn and fingers dug into his muscle in a tight hug. In her waves of euphoria, she groaned and cried. More tears gushed down her temples. Her cunt clenched relentlessly to coax Zevlor to empty his balls into her. He did his best to give her a few more thrusts before cumming inside her.

They stayed still to catch their breaths. She smirked with marks of tears on her face: “Maybe a little death, yes.” He snorted and gently slapped her thigh.

He could see sunlight creeping up the ceiling from the top of the curtains. He looked at the shirt she was still wearing. It was in no state to be worn by him today. She followed his eyes and giggled: “A rag after a ride?” He laughed at her terrible line and got up to get her a rag. When he walked past her pack, she said nonchalantly: “There is a little parcel in my pack. It’s a little present for you.”

That was new, he thought. He threw her a wrung rag then opened her pack. He tried not to pry too much into it, as it’s not his place. He took a small parcel out. It was flat and soft. She urged: “Open it.”

A guess came to him. He found two shirts inside it. At a glance, they looked identical to the ones he owned. They were made in some thicker material that was both durable and comfortable. He walked over to the candle to take a better look at them. The details at the collar and sleeves matched exactly the same as his. She probably had them made for him. His old shirts were styled differently from what Baldur’s Gate had to offer.

He turned around and saw her already snuggled back under the cover. The used rag was left on the side. No sign of his shirt anywhere. He hurried to finish wiping himself down and got his pack ready.

He blew out the candles before he left. The last one was by the bed. She opened her sleepy eyes and pouted. He leaned down to kiss her on the forehead. She smiled: “See you again soon, Zevlor.”

Helm’s tears. He shouldn’t be blamed for being greedy and making terrible life choices.

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

End Notes:

Here it is! Please leave me feedback on how he was depicted in the fic. Or simply tell me what you think/feel about this version of Zevlor. I really want to know what you guys think about it. Much appreciate it. <3

Honestly, smut is too difficult for me lollllll

@ploompkin

[linka-from-captain-planet]

Florrickology, Part 5: Counsellor Desiré "Fuck It, We Ball" Florrick

Back in Part 1, I alluded to this fascinating aspect of my beloved's personality. I have had much to say about her overarching actions re: her role in the story, but it's time to focus on the details of what she actually does and how she actually handles the challenges she faces of the course of the three acts.

What is so interesting about Florrick is that she's presented as character who would be fully Lawful Good: careful, methodical, a planner... but IS she?

Again, it's important to emphasize that Florrick is a background figure. She's a quest-giver and a story-mover first, and a character last.

As I mentioned in previous installments of Florrickology, what she actually says and does isn't as important as the impression they leave the player with; you aren't supposed to read too much into her literal lines/actions, but rather take them at pretty much face-value and move on with the game, because they mostly boil down to a) moving the plot for more important characters/events and b) video game mechanics.

But as a background character propagandist and Florrick's first and #1 simp, this creates a playground of fun stuff to play with that is actually rooted in canon, because even if you aren't supposed to read into these things, you can and I did.

In Part 1, I said:

I'll have more to say about Desiré "Fuck It, We Ball" Florrick and her personality in another florrickology post, but the long and short of it is that this woman is not afraid of shit and sashays into every situation fully confident in her ability to charm or steamroll it to her liking. "She is used to getting her way", indeed.

Let's dig in deeper, encounter-by-encounter.

"She is used to getting her way" is straight from the dialogue file for the first Florrick encounter conversation, which along with "She should come off as no-nonsense but good" is the only description of her in the files. These definitely set the tone, because what's the first thing Florrick does in the game?

Command the player to assist with search and rescue. She's not really asking, even if she does phrase it in a civilized manner. As far as she's concerned, she's calling the player up (on borrowed authority, as she's only an advisor, not a duke herself) for a mandatory civic duty... even if they're not even Baldurian, or even from this plane of existence. If you think about it, unless Wyll is with you, it makes 0 sense to agree to anything she asks (especially if you don't yet know anything about the overall plot), and all this is an insane thing to ask of a random stranger who just happened to stop by.

I love this because not only is it insane, it's assertive. It's asking for forgiveness, not permission. It's the door-in-the-face technique. It's being so self-assured and confident that she is correct and others will comply because she is correct that it doesn't even occur to her that anyone would refuse. From her perspective, it's probably a small ask considering what she would be willing to do, and proceeds to actually do, for the sake of the greater good and the survival of Baldur's Gate.

My first play through I had literally no clue what the fuck she was talking about, was only tangentially aware that "Baldur's Gate" was an actual place and not the place I currently was, and had not yet synthesized any information about the overall plot, but of course I was immediately like "never arguing with a woman with big brown eyes... whatever you say gorgeous" and would have immediately run to """moonrise towers""" if I had any idea where it was. So needless to say it worked on me.

This blisteringly self-assured and balls-to-the-wall approach to handling every situation follows her throughout the game.

Depending on how you progress through the Act 1 map, she may be the first character who tells you details about Moonrise Towers, the center of this hot new cult on the block, swallowed in shadows so perilous that they can only be attributed to nefarious powers at work... so obviously, she's just like "anyway, I'll see you there."

And then she literally runs off with her ragtag group of surviving Fists, thong and all. No further planning. No correspondence with contacts in the city. It IS the next step in handling this matter in her estimation, which is true and correct, so that's what they'll do.

Fuck it, we ball.

When you meet her again in the Last Light Inn, her Fists have completed a reconnaissance mission to Moonrise (maybe she went with, considering her famously good scouting skills) and determined it to be unassailable, which indicates she considered storming the tower as an option, despite presumably already having rendezvoused with the Harpers who informed her that the tower was guarded by cultists, zombies, and an immortal undead general. (You also find her mid-argument with a Fist, putting him in his place as he questions her authority and she is NOT having it.)

On speaking with her, she promptly voluntells the player's party to investigate the tower further, while she returns to the city to appeal to the council for reinforcements, specifically newfangled Steel Watch units. Then for some reason, she drops this fairly baffling line:

Baby... what the fuck do you mean?

Does she mean she half-expects to die trying to transverse the shadow-cursed lands, which she's already done with no issues (presumably sheltered by the radiant glow of her gorgeousness)... or does she know or suspect there's something up with the council, which she's never indicated before? I think I missed something in this convo due to being distracted by beautiful she looks in this lighting, but if I didn't, then I guess she's possibly referring to getting past the Absolute's army parked in the way to the city, but regardless...

Fuck it, we ball. It's what she decided to do, so it will be done.

The next time you meet her, she's like a completely different woman. Defeated, head hung, demoralized, just waiting in her cell for execution. She can't escape for Video Game Reasons, but realistically... she definitely could, as a level 11 wizard. She just chooses not to, because as she says herself, she already lost. She failed, and the city will fall, and there's nothing worth living for.

It's shocking to see her in this state because it's so discordant with her previous behavior: head high, spine iron, barking orders.

So, good thing she bounces back immediately! This is again a Video Game Mechanic, but I do find it very in character that her response to even the "I'll beat your ass" rescue option is basically "You're totally right, giving up wasn't very cash money of me."

I've had much to say about the last real Florrick encounter, and how much it sucks ass, but it really is the biggest Fuck It, We Ball moment in the game, because you have to consider:

Florrick knows the player and/or Wyll have killed the avatar of a god. And she confronts them anyway, ready to fight and definitely ready to die. She's already fugitive marked for death; she's already determined that with Ulder fallen, the city is doomed.

Might as well die like she lived, right? Might as well take a mother fucker down with her, right?

All of this subtle chaos and insanity is super fun (also hot) to me because it's like... what is this woman's actual deal? Combined with what I pointed out in Florrickology Part 3, where Wyll implies it's somewhat routine practice for her to up and kill would-be assassins and also scout the wilderness for danger, "moving the plot" and "video game mechanics" add up to one hell of a woman. How does she come off as such an uptight, level-headed person but sometimes act like 5 raccoons stuffed into a distractingly sexy dress?

Truly an icon of a character for us modern-day corporate girlies who just get a little squirrelies sometimes.

Women can truly do it all!

[lilakennedy]

→ RESHADE: NOX

Hi there!! ♥

It is finally time! After various hurdles and roadblocks, here is the promised nighttime reshade!!

It's dark, it's foggy, it's spooky - And I vowed myself to get it out before the Halloween Event! And I think, despite all issues, I managed well within my deadline :)

This Reshade is meant to actually feel like the middle of the night, so it will cause some lack of visibility! But the actual preset has various hotkey toggles that I will explain a bit further down, to adjust some things for a more simple experience ♥

Make sure you set your ingame time to night!! - And try to avoid areas that are too bright....hehe ^^"

Taglist: @daineic-art @foggy-milk @mysterysoulrider @cryptid-deity @mayadew @barricade-moonriser

COMPARISON:

TOGGLES FOR PERSONALIZATION:

Number Row 2: Toggles the dark sky/clouds! Overall gives more clarity/brightness if it's disabled and a more blue sky! Also, less fog could help with lag :) Number Row 3: MXAO Shaders! The LITE version has it disabled, but if you'd like to simply toggle it, you can do so with this! Number Row 4: Would you rather have a more blue hue for your night? Hit this one and everything will turn more cool!

This preset comes in 3 versions: FULL, MEDIUM & LITE ! Visual reference of each version can be found further below ♥

Full - These versions will be the most beefy and pretty much only be meant for screenshots, but can be playable if tweaked or if your PC is strong enough! 99% chance of some framedrops tho, but could very well be playlable! If your PC is on the lower end, this might not be the version for you besides for screencaps!

Medium - These versions will be playable for most people but still have nearly all of the more complex effects. Just tweaked to be more playable!

Lite - These versions should be playable for nearly everyone and still carry the same mood, colors and lighting, just without any of the more complex shaders!

( PS - If anyone has trouble with the Lite version, please don't hesitate to reach out to me and let me know how badly it causes you lag, I will try to make you a personalized version ♥ )

FULL: Color Edits, Brightness/Contrast, Fog, Clouds/Dark Sky, Bloom, Sharpen & Smoothing, Cursor Flashlight

MEDIUM: Color Edits, Brightness/Contrast, minimal Fog, Bloom, Sharpen & Smoothing, Cursor Flashlight

LITE: Colors Edits, Brightness/Contrast, Bloom, Cursor Flashlight

♥ FULL / MEDIUM / LITE ♥

As usual, light flash warning due to the Depth Buffer! This is most often not harsh, but it can be jarring depending on your settings and the area you are in!! Please just be cautious if you are sensitive!

After the file has been downloaded, make sure to move it into the folder that holds the your SSO reshade installation, then you should be able to select it from the dropdown list in your Reshade menu in the game! Let me know if there are any issues with the download or the preset itself! :)

If anyone posts phoots with this preset, tag it as (#lila presets) so I can see!!

Have fun!! ♥

[blackwood4stucky]

My WIPs Tag Game!

tagged by @ellethespaceunicorn 🩶

Rules: Make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! Then tag as many people as you have WIPS.

in no particular order...

oh my, he's a long way from suburban towns

bound by blood, thy lovers kiss spells death

burning embers of a dying world

casting a spell on your heartstrings, you're caught in my snare

crawling on my knees, watch me while i bleed

crimson courtship: a death race for love

do you trust me with your scars enough to show me your heart

fall of the house of the black sun

from what i've tasted of desire, i hold with those who favor fire

hold me in the after hours

hoping these roses dull the pain, cover the scars and turn the page

oh how i adore the ways in which you bleed for me

the song has ended, but the melody lingers on

those that live between sunset and moonrise

you became the devil, yet i crave certain dark things

whew, that's not even all my ideas...

no pressure tags: @thepiper0fhameln @katie-delaney @kingofsorrow20

@onehundredflamingos @readmymindao3 @late-to-the-party-81 @spectrumos

@metalbvcky @otpcutie @caplanbuckybarnes @museaway @endlesstwanted

@moodymelanist @rosduncan @gyokujyn