gale & karlach
i think out of all the dynamics between the companions, i've come to enjoy gale and karlach the most over my time with the game. karlach especially bc she's the only one who genuinely seems to care about and for gale.
she repeatedly checks in on him after the orb reveal and doesn't turn it into a joke about slurping carrots, or sipping wine, or wanting him to be gone entirely from the group.
not only does she advocate for him to stay three times, depending on which dialogue path you pick:
gale's background story reveal & the reveal about the netherese orb
Karlach: Come on. We all have our secrets - and our risks. If Gale leaves, we might as well disband completely.
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Karlach: Absolutely. We're all risky in our own ways. We stick together anyway. Right?
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Karlach: If having dangerous, otherworldly objects stuck in your skin is wrong, then Gale and I both have to go. We're not really splitting up, are we?
but she's also the only one who repeatedly asks him throughout the game how he is doing, to make sure how he's faring, both in general and with his debilitating condition:
act 2 - shadow-cursed lands banter
Karlach: Doing all right, Gale?
Gale: Oh, you know... Still alive and kicking, despite being surrounded on all sides by an endless manifestation of darkness and decay...
devnote: Almost with a sigh. That's just how things are - Grim humour to it.
Karlach: I feel it too. Here if you need a pick-me-up.
act 3 - after mystra stabilised the orb
Karlach: How's the orb treating you, Gale?
Gale: Oh, quite well as a matter of fact. Since it was stabilised, it's been humming along nicely.
Gale: I have noticed one adverse side-effect. I seem to be losing hair in some, er, unexpected places.
Karlach: I can only imagine.
i think it really bears repeating/stressing that no other companion does this. not one checks in on gale like karlach does, after his affliction has become known to his companions - with the exception of the protag potentially.
karlach also arguably has the strongest reaction in response to mystra's demands in act 2, showing again her care for gale, as well as her protective side:
Karlach: Aw, was that Gale's granddad?
Player: That was Elminster Aumar - the most famous wizard in the realms.
Karlach: Huh. Doesn't ring a bell. But all right! Must've had something important to say to Gale, if he came all this way. Good news, I hope.
Player: I don't think it was. It turns out Gale has an explosive bomb in his chest - and Mystra has asked him to use it to blow up the heart of the Absolute.
Karlach: Whoa, now. He's got a... well, I guess that would explain a little, but... Mystra... I mean, this is a lot to take in.
Karlach: What's he going to do?
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Player - Option 1: I think he's going to follow through with it.
Karlach: Fuck me. There's devotion, and then there's stupidity. If the god of magic can't handle this without sacrificing Gale, she's no god at all.
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Player - Option 2: I don't think he'd do that to himself, even if Mystra commanded it.
Karlach: Good. I'm one hundred percent sure there's another way to bring down this cult. No true god would ask such a thing from her faithful. That's for certain.
Karlach: Poor Gale. He must be in bits after hearing that. I'll distract him. Tell him I haven't read a book since secondary school, watch his face melt off.
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Player - Option 3: I'm not sure. I think he's of several minds.
Karlach: Well, tell him to pick the right one. Better yet, I'll do it. Fucking wizards, man! They always need help picking the simple, obvious option.
Karlach: If Mystra can't think of another way to stop the Absolute than sacrificing Gale, she's no god worth worshipping. I'll say that to Gale - in, you know, gentle terms.
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Player - Option 4: You know that bomb in Gale's chest? Mystra has asked him to use it to explode the heart of the Absolute.
Karlach: She what?! Is she mad?!
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Player - Option 5: Don't worry about it.
Karlach: Karlach doesn't worry, she acts. So if Gale needs me, now's the time to tell me.
i particularly like that last response bc it really echoes throughout her relationship with gale ("karlach doesn't worry, she acts. so if gale needs me, now's the time to tell me.").
their banters are often playful, but also genuine. both karlach and gale tease each other, they joke with each other, showing how comfortable they are with each other despite their many differences, but there are also moments of understanding and care between them, allowing them to emphasise with each other:
Karlach: Man, it's good to be home. First round on who?
Gale: She who thirsts buys drinks the first.
devnote: Like it's a well-known saying
Karlach: You won't pin me down with a rhyme, wizard!
devnote: Jockeying with Gale (prob supposed to be Joking with Gale)
Gale: She who declines gets the worst of the wines.
Karlach: Just when I was getting used to the sky again...
Gale: Fear not, Karlach. Sun, moon and stars will still be there waiting for us.
devnote: Reassuring
Karlach: Meanwhile, this place is pretty spectacular, isn't it?
Gale: No book or painting could ever do its strange beauty justice. But perhaps our stories might, when we return to the surface.
devnote: Agreeing with Karlach, enjoying the sense of wonder as you explore
Gale: I've always felt flames to be a rather perfect expression of love, Karlach.
Gale: Passionate, primal, capable of bestowing the most life-affirming comfort, or inflicting the profoundest damage.
devnote: Listing the qualities of fire, Romantic, indulging in the poetry of the image
Karlach: That's... pretty nice. Never thought about it like that. But now I will.
Karlach: Wouldn't mind a dancing axe of my own.
Gale: A simple movement charm wouldn't be too hard to apply to such an object. I could conjure one up for you if you like?
Karlach: Yes! I like!
Gale: Very wel then. Once the city is saved, Karlach's Kinetic Cleaver will be first on my list.
Karlach: So, Gale - got any book recommendations for me?devnote: With concern
Gale: You can read?!
devnote: Taking the piss - knows full well Karlach can read, and that she's always claimed not to enjoy it
Karlach: Very funny. Yes - I can read. School put me off big boring tomes. Sometimes I wonder what I'm missing.
devnote: Friendly rather than flirtatious
Gale: Say no more - I'll find the perfect book for you. I might even lend it to you from my library in Waterdeep.
devnote: Jumping on the opportunity to give a book recommendation (a favourite hobby)
Karlach: Ooh! Something with magic, please. And no devils.
even at his most vulnerable moments, karlach is there to support him:
before the stormshore tabernacle audience with mystra
Karlach: You can do this, Gale. And I'll be right here when you're done.
she allows herself to be protective of him and get angry on his behalf not after when it comes to mystra, but also when he is potentially kidnapped by orin:
karlach's reaction to gale being kidnapped
Karlach: That bloody freak won't get away with this. That's my wizard she took. And we're going to get him back.
once again, it's a good callback to her previous line: "karlach doesn't worry, she acts. so if gale needs me, now's the time to tell me."
she's willing to be needed by him - and he does need her. whether that is as a friend, or (if you chose to play so during an origin pt) as a romantic partner. it's a lovely dynamic either way.
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(DCxDP) Drowning in formaldehyde (Pt. 1)
—
Tw: one instance of canon-typical violence (DC), vivisection mention
Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually
(Prologue) - (Pt. 2)
(Subscription post/masterlist)
—
Danny has been working for Mr. Cobblepot for over a month now.
The first few weeks he was in the Penguin’s company, he couldn’t do much of anything. Instead, Mr. Cobblepot made sure that he was well-rested and beginning to recover.
Danny cried a lot in the first week that he was there.
He cried when he ate for the first time in years; the GiW had kept him on IVs and a feeding tube, so they wouldn’t have to move him from his surgical table.
He cried when he was given his own room to stay in, when he was brought clothes to wear, when he was given a bodyguard to protect him.
He cried when Mr. Cobblepot’s doctors told him that the damage to his vocal chords was likely permanent, and that he would never sound the same again. That he would find it hard to speak at any volume above a whisper.
Apparently, he had a lot more damage to him than he had thought.
The doctors said that the scarring in his brain stem suggested his entire brain had been removed and had regrown. Danny couldn’t really disprove that, and it did line up with a pretty substantial gap in his memory, but if that was the case then why couldn’t his voice recover too?
The scarring and incredibly new tissue that showed up in scans of several other parts of his body suggested that the GiW had done the same thing with most of his organs, as well as a few limbs, and all of the fingers on his right hand.
Danny could remember that. He just didn’t want to.
Perhaps it was the feeling of pity that kept Mr. Cobblepot so understanding of Danny’s slow recovery. That didn’t really matter much, though; Danny’s energy was focused on keeping his place here, ensuring that Mr. Cobblepot didn’t decide he was no longer worth the effort.
As it turned out, there was an easy enough solution to that.
Danny was the only one who knew how to properly operate and modify the weapons and inventions stolen from the GiW.
And so, Danny had a niche he could occupy. He could be useful, useful enough that Mr. Cobblepot couldn’t get rid of him, even if he wanted to.
And, as it turns out, Danny remembered quite a lot of the theories he heard while he was on the cutting board.
As soon as he had enough muscle control of his arms to do so, he was working away at the machinery created by the GiW and his parents.
No, not his parents.
Doctors Madeleine and Jack Fenton.
Regardless of their creators, he was able to understand them quite intimately.
Maybe it was because the ectoplasm flowing through the weaponry was his own, maybe it was because he had nothing to listen to for three years other than the excited chatter of his vivisectionists as they cut him open. Maybe it was because they were both simple weaponry without a purpose.
Danny found working on the machines soothing in a way that nothing else was.
The smell of oil and grease, the sounds of mechanical clanking and metal joints squealing, the feeling of cold steel beneath his fingertips.
The first thing he did to the machines was replacing the paint, from shiny white to a matte black. That way, they were recognizable as his own modified creations.
It was only a bonus that he didn’t catch his reflection in the metal surfaces this way.
Still, his reflection was starting to become more familiar to him. It was still strangely off-putting to see, but his face was beginning to plump out from consistent eating, and his skin was beginning to lose its unhealthy pale tone, going back to a more natural pinkish color.
His eyes still looked devoid of life, but that could be ignored as long as he didn’t look at himself for too long.
Danny sighed, leaning back in his chair as he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. He was working on modifying the ectoblasters so that they could properly hit humans, as per Mr. Cobblepot’s orders.
He probably should feel some sort of moral conflict over it, but really, Danny couldn’t find it in him to care. Maybe it was some sort of deep internal flaw, or maybe it was because he knew that they wouldn’t be shot at anyone without blood on their hands. Either way, he didn’t have any qualms with what he was doing.
As Danny reconnected the circuitry within the gun, the indicator lights on the side of the muzzle blinked to life, a familiar neon green.
Danny would have to change that color too, he thought. Maybe red would be nice instead, or an icy blue?
He was pulled from his thoughts by the door to his temporary workshop opening. Danny looked up, and smiled when he saw that his bodyguard was the one standing in the doorway.
The man, known only as Derringer, was 6’2”, built like a tank, and known for his love of unusual firearms. He was also a big fan of card games, and had been teaching Danny how to play Blackjack during their meals.
He gently closed the door behind him, strolling into the workshop.
Danny hopped out of his seat, hugging the man tightly. Derringer laughed, patting Danny on the back as he clung to him like a koala.
“Good to see you too, kid,” the man said, his deep voice rumbling in his chest, “you just about done in here?”
Danny nodded, letting go of the bodyguard. He picked up the gun on the desk, handing it to Derringer, and pointed to the target resting in the far corner of the room.
Derringer glanced down at Danny, shrugging before aiming the gun.
He pulled the trigger, and a large scorch mark appeared in the center of the target.
Derringer whistled appreciatively, walking over to inspect the damage.
There was a deep dent in the center of the metal target, around an inch in diameter, and a large scorch mark surrounding it. The metal of the dent was white-hot, and the area around it was somewhat warped.
“That’s real nice, kid,” Derringer said, “don’t know how you do it.”
Danny grinned, baring his teeth at the man. He smiled back, ruffling his hair.
“The boss is gonna go forward with the Arkham raid soon, so long as your guns are ready,” he said, “he’s eager to try them out for real. You think you’re up to talking to him?”
“Yes,” Danny signed, nodding to the man.
“Good,” Derringer signed back.
Mr. Cobblepot, not wanting Danny to be limited in his speech by the damage to his vocal chords, had ensured that all of the people who interacted with him knew at least the basics of ASL.
When he wasn’t working on the ectoblasters, Danny was practicing his ASL with a dedicated tutor, or with Derringer, who learned the language when his mother had gone deaf.
“Can I eat first?” Danny signed, “I forgot to.”
“You forgot, or you didn’t want to leave your work?” Derringer asked, signing as he spoke, the corners of his eyes crinkled with amusement, “and yeah, the boss wants to talk to you in thirty minutes. You’ve got plenty of time before then.”
“Thank you,” Danny signed, “let’s go.”
“Hey, just a sec,” Derringer said. His face had dropped into something unusually serious.
Danny nodded, tilting his head as he signed a quick “what’s wrong?”
“You’re a good kid. Even after what you’ve been through, you’re…you’re a really sweet kid,” Derringer said, looking away. “But you…you can’t keep being sweet to everyone. You gotta act tough, alright?”
“Why?”
“You just…” Derringer sighed, combing a hand through his thick, curly hair, “a lot of the guys think that you’re too weak to be here. They’re calling you the Penguin’s pet project, and the problem is that they’re not really wrong. You gotta be scarier to survive, alright? Gotham’ll eat you alive if you don’t. Just make up a persona and roll with it.”
Danny nodded slowly, processing his words for a moment.
“Like a mask?”
Derringer laughed, a bittersweet smile on his face.
“Yeah, like a mask. Just don’t start fighting crime while you’re at it.”
“Okay,” Danny signed, his movements slow. “I can do that.”
“Good on you, kid,” Derringer said, ruffling his hair once more, “now let’s go get lunch.”
The two of them ate quickly, Danny’s mind on Derringer’s advice the entire time.
He was right, and Danny knew it. He’d seen the way that some of Mr. Cobblepot’s men had looked at him.
He wasn’t anywhere near big enough to pull off the looming intimidating look that Derringer did; his doctors back in Amity had told him that he would grow to be over six foot, but his time in the GiW seemed to have stunted his growth significantly. He was only around 5’6”, and it seemed that he was going to stay that way.
In the same way, he wasn’t nearly frightening looking enough to pull off the terrifying stares of the smaller individuals working under Mr. Cobblepot. He just couldn’t get the glare right; his face would always fall back to a blank, dead stare.
Though, maybe if he played into that…
A few minutes before they had to leave, Danny excused himself to go to the restroom. He stared into the mirror, looking into his cold, dead eyes, and let his face drop.
When he adjusted his stance, and kept his eyes a bit wider than usual, he looked downright unnerving.
Danny had already noticed that most of his mannerisms were…unusual, after his stay at the GiW base. Put simply, he had forgotten what it was like to be a human.
He had noticed that most of the people around him would avoid being in his presence, and had begun mirroring their body language as much as he could to seem more normal.
Maybe, though, it would be better for him not to.
He could lean into the whole thing. An unstable young adult, experimented on by the government for years.
Danny looked into the mirror, and wide, icy eyes stared back at him.
Danny left the restroom. Derringer turned to greet him, jolting when he did. After a moment, he nodded.
“That what we’re going with?”
“Yes. Is it good?”
“Yeah. Freaky. Gonna take some getting used to, but yeah. Now,” he said, getting up from his spot at the break room table, “let’s go see the boss.”
Danny felt anxiety bubbling up in his chest, his entire body beginning to twitch. If Mr. Cobblepot didn’t approve of the weaponry, or if he thought they were underwhelming, would he be thrown out? Would he be tortured again, or killed?
Danny shivered when they came to a stop in front of the door to Mr. Cobblepot’s office. Failure wasn’t an option. He had to make sure this went well.
“You’ll do great, kid,” Derringer whispered, pushing the door open.
Mr. Cobblepot had been talking with a few other people, but their conversation died out when Danny and Derringer entered the room. Danny’s skin crawled.
“Ah, Danny! Just the person I wanted to see,” Mr. Cobblepot said, a large smile on his face, “Do you have one of your guns with you?”
“Yes,” Danny signed, nodding.
“Wonderful. I was just telling my associates here about your work. Do you mind giving a demonstration?”
“Where should I shoot? Do you have a target?”
Derringer was quick to translate. Mr. Cobblepot nodded, gesturing for a hired hand in the corner of the room to pull out a small wooden board, holding it up in the air.
Danny paled. He would definitely burn the man’s hands if he hit the target, even if he aimed for the furthest corner of the board.
Still, he was more terrified of disappointing Mr. Cobblepot than he was empathetic towards the man, so he drew a blaster from the holster on his leg and aimed carefully.
The blast hit the center of the board. The man holding it howled in pain, dropping the target and drawing his hand close to his chest. The nauseating smell of burning flesh filled the room.
Danny breathed shakily, in and out.
Mr. Cobblepot, for what it was worth, looked like he couldn’t possibly be happier. He and the others inspected the board on the ground closely, ignoring the hired hand as he ran out of the room, still cradling his damaged hand.
A large hole had been blown into the board, and a good portion of it had been incinerated.
“Look at that, ladies and gentlemen! I told you that Danny would deliver, and deliver he did! Imagine if that had been a person instead! Danny, what would you say would happen?”
Danny paused, trying to wince when he realized that the question wasn’t hypothetical, and Mr. Cobblepot actually wanted an answer.
“It would give them S-E-V-E-R-E burns,” Danny finger spelled the word that he didn’t know the proper sign for, “mostly S-U-R-F-A-C-E. It can’t P-E-I-R-C-E, because there is no bullet, just energy.”
Derringer translated for him.
Mr. Cobblepot frowned, and Danny frantically continued, “but it can be L-E-T-H-A-L! Burns on the head kill fast. Burns on the body make S-H-O-C-K, and kill. Strong I-M-P-A-C-T, too.”
“So they do still kill, just not instantly?”
“Yes,” Danny signed, “they’re fast. They hurt bad. Bad way to die, hurts a lot.”
“Well,” one of the other men in the room piped up, “I guess he’s not completely hopeless.”
“Of course he isn’t,” Mr. Cobblepot replied, fixing a terrifying glare onto the man, “it was my idea to bring him in, after all.”
“Danny,” Mr. Cobblepot said, turning his attention back to him, “we’re going to be collaborating with these fine individuals in the future. I’m going to need twenty guns ready for use in a week. You can handle that, can’t you?”
Danny nodded frantically.
“What kind?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Mr. Cobblepot said, waving his hand dismissively, “semi-automatic is preferable, but handguns and shotguns also work. Just make sure they work perfectly.”
The room was silent for a moment.
“Well, that’s all. You can leave now, and I’ll finish discussing the details with my associates.”
Danny nodded, signing him a quick “thank you, goodbye,” and slipped out of the room alongside Derringer.
They made their way back to Danny’s workshop in silence. Once they were inside, Derringer heaved a heavy sigh, running his fingers through his hair.
“You really think you can make that many guns that quickly, kid?”
“Yes,” Danny replied, “but I need your help.”
Derringer groaned, a smile on his face.
“Of course you’re putting me to work. I should’ve expected it. Now, what do you need me to do?”
“Well, first, hold this…”
—
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