A +2 Quarterstaff, forged of platinum alloy and topped with a blend of molten quartz in the shape of a starburst. Possibly sacred to a Goddess long dead.
The Staff can spontaneously apply any Metamagic except for Quicken Spell, Persistent Spell, Silent Spell, and Still Spell. The limit is three times a day for each.
The limit for Quicken and Persist is once per day. All charges are renewed at Dawn.
Silent and Still Spell may both be applied at will, simultaneously. Any non-costly somatic components may be omitted from casting such spells, and they may also be used in tandem with a Metamagic Charge.
When the wielder utilizes metamagic, either normally or through this staff, they gain temporary hit points equal to three times their casting ability modifier. These hit points last either until they are depleted or the next short or long rest.
This blue-white robe rested in Torius' care for many, many years. It is unisex, and was quite possibly intended for him. The time where he may have worn it is now long past. They shift to fit their most recent humanoid wearer, regardless of shape or size.
Lastly, once per day the wearer can cast Effulgent Epuration using either their own Caster Level or as a 17th level caster, whichever is higher. Unlike a normal casting, the wearer may separate the bubbles and direct all of them to multiple targets as a bonus action on their turn. They may also direct one to a single target as a reaction.
Huh... superior resistance.
All saves, you say?
I think that might be the spell that sees the biggest utility buff by the conversion from 3 to 5.
A +6 to saves in dnd 5e is pretty huge, and the fact that it now applies to twice as many 'saves' as it did in 3.5?
Interesting.
....Oh, Someone is going to have to tell Torius about dnd 4e, and it shan't be me!
...Eurgh, encounter powers.
A +2 Keen Rapier. The guard is gold-etched steel, displaying a trio of diagonally splayed feathers. In the center one is set a strange gem, alien to the Material Plane. It shines with every color at once, and yet none.
When held, this weapon allows the wielder to continuously Detect Evil as the spell. On a confirmed 'evil' target, this weapon acts as a 'Bane' weapon. Against such targets, the wielder may add their character level on Insight checks against them.
When the wielder enters combat against an evil creature, they may add their Casting Ability Modifier (if any) to their initiative roll.
The wielder is automatically considered proficient with this weapon, and if they are a casting class, may use their Casting Ability Modifier in place of Strength or Dexterity if it is higher. When making an attack action, they may make an extra attack starting at level 5, and a second at level 11.
The Brilliant Thorn ignores all Damage Reduction and Resistances of Evil-Aligned Creatures.
A +3 set of Studded Leather Armor. It glistens as though freshly polished, from the leather base to the three golden feathers decorating the breast.
With a word of command, the wearer may invoke Shield of Faith upon themselves as though cast by an 18th level caster. This ability may be used four times per day.
When casting a spell, the wearer may add their Casting Ability Modifier to any damage rolls. This compounds with similar effects from other sources.
Lastly, the wearer is immune to being charmed or dominated.
A lot of discussion that I only understood on reading up on the character was like 'why did they take the absolute worst version of this character for a cameo' and 'there's a lot that doesn't add up here for her actions'.
Having literally only gotten to her today: What in the fuck did they to do my babygirl core party member of both games and why must they continue to hurt me with their cameos?
-Anyway-, also chiming in that I think you've gotten rather good at nailing the voices on the characters, so kudos.
A +3 Morningstar. Whatever dark metal composes the dark spikes reflects light, almost like the sun glittering off of the deepest sea. A portent of a rising celestial body to banish shadow.
When used by a cleric, it functions as a Warning weapon, granting +5 to initiative checks.
It also functions as a Headband of Wisdom +6. With the current restrictions from Mystra, it still breaks the stated ability cap.
When held by a Cleric of Selune, Lathander, or Amaunator, it treats all spells that use dice rolls as both Heightened (5e rules) and Maximized.
One of Torius' last creations before entering the Archives of Doom and Dusk, a slate grey +2 Tower Shield. The face is utterly unremarkable, belying the power hidden within.
While worn, it grants Spell Resistance of 19, and imposes disadvantage on checks to overcome it.
Once per day, it can 'consume' a single named target. By striking the shield's face with a metal object, a literal face manifests. It will then 'inhale' all of the named target within a 100 foot radius. The target can - and in fact, should - be specified. 'Air' versus 'my enemies' air', 'free-standing water' versus 'water'. An uncautious wielder can devastate themselves as readily as their foes. If a sentient being would be harmed by this effect, they may make a DC 20 saving throw of the relevant type depending on what has been set for consumption.
Despite the name, readily devouring a curse is not easy. While the shield will remain intact regardless, a Wisdom check against DC 10 (Standard), 15 (Archmage), 20 (older than two centuries), 25 (lesser divine) must be made. A full-fledged divine curse is impossible to consume, and an attempt to do so will result in the command being ignored and saved for later.
When a curse is consumed, it grants the wielder advantage on all attacks, spell attacks, saving throws, and skill checks for the three days following.
A +4 Breastplate forged in recognition of Shar and Selune's rivalry and sisterhood. Despite the dark metal, it seems to somehow glow. Depending on the wearer, it can have different effects.
For a Sharran or evil wearer, it exudes continuous Iron Silence and grants +10 to Stealth and Sleight of Hand checks. It also grants immunity to Necrotic Damage and functions as Death Ward.
For a Selunite or good wearer, it grants advantage on Charisma-based skill checks and allows the wearer to add their casting modifier to all healing rolls. The spell Moon Bolt is added to their spell list, and is treated as always prepared. Lastly, once per day, the wearer may cast Death Ward, Mass, as the spell with the caveat that it lasts hours per level.
A +4 Shocking BurstImpactMaul. The silvery head seems almost alive in its hunger for blood and destruction.
On a Critical Hit, the multiplier for damage is treated as x4.
On successive hits on the same target, further attack rolls are made at advantage. On a successful hit, the target may be moved up to 10 feet away from the wielder. If the target is moved in this way, they must make an opposed Strength Check to resist (with Disadvantage).
Three times per long rest, the wielder may choose to turn a successful attack made with this weapon into a Critical Hit.
A set of +3 Mithral Full Plate. The shine indicates it was made for someone noble with great care, but never worn.
While worn, it confers Mind Blank (as the spell), Death Ward (as the spell). It functions as though continuously under Iron Silence.
Once per day, the user may cast Righteous Might (as the spell) on themselves as a 12th level caster as a bonus action.
Torius would like it known he is not responsible for naming this weapon.
A +2 Bastard Sword, this blade has an infernal engine in the hilt and ventilation through the weapon. It can be revved for devastating pyrotechnical effect.
When at rest, Toasty deals an additional 2d6 fire damage on each hit, and the target must succeed on a DC 19 Dexterity Saving Throw or be set on fire for the same damage each round. Successive rounds allow further attempts at the same DC.
When revved as a bonus action, Toasty ignores Fire Resistance, deals an additional 2d6 fire damage (total 4d6), and sets any unattended nonmagical objects on fire within a five foot radius of it. This includes things like fallen leaves, grass, and depending on Dexterity Saves, small animals. With that noted, all creatures outside the wielder must make a DC 19 Dexterity save, or be set on fire with consequences as above, with the new damage amount. A rev lasts for three turns including the initiation. Single revs may be done at will.
When Toasty's wielder is Raging, all Rage bonuses are doubled. Toasty's wielder is also immune to fire and poison damage while wielding it. The reason for the latter is that any poison in the bloodstream is incinerated on contact.
When revved, Toasty glows with bright light within ten feet, dim light at twenty.
Two times per short rest, the wielder may rev twice as a bonus action, giving them the effects of Haste on top of the effects of a single rev. This lasts for ten turns.
Once per long rest, Toasty's wielder may rev three times as an action, causing it to cast Fire Storm as a 20th level caster (DC 22).
Torius: That is not how Haste works. I want to know how it works. I need to learn this spell.
Ahhh yes, Haste. One of the few spells that is actually weirdly way more powerful in a post-Mystryl world. Torius is probably salivating now at the thought of what havoc he could cause through combining Maximized Time Stop with 5e's improved Haste.
Speaking of Haste though, it reminds me - what are Torius' thoughts on people only being able to have a single concentration spell running at a time? Does he even realize modern casters are limited to only one at a time? It does make me wonder if the sort of skill required to have multiple concentration-esque spells like Bless/Bane/etc. running is something that could be taught, and it's just modern casters are lacking the proper mental discipline.
Ahhh yes, Haste. One of the few spells that is actually weirdly way more powerful in a post-Mystryl world. Torius is probably salivating now at the thought of what havoc he could cause through combining Maximized Time Stop with 5e's improved Haste.
Speaking of Haste though, it reminds me - what are Torius' thoughts on people only being able to have a single concentration spell running at a time? Does he even realize modern casters are limited to only one at a time? It does make me wonder if the sort of skill required to have multiple concentration-esque spells like Bless/Bane/etc. running is something that could be taught, and it's just modern casters are lacking the proper mental discipline.
He would likely exhibit concern that the others had some sort of disorder, up until Gale said Mystra Did It.
Torius: OF COURSE.
And promptly try to teach them through mindfulness exercises. Gale and Shadowheart have moderate success. Creccoth manages to make it work when he's killing things.
Karlach, who nobody is sure why she's tagged along, falls asleep.
(This is non-canon unless and until I can work it in.)
He would likely exhibit concern that the others had some sort of disorder, up until Gale said Mystra Did It.
Torius: OF COURSE.
And promptly try to teach them through mindfulness exercises. Gale and Shadowheart have moderate success. Creccoth manages to make it work when he's killing things.
Karlach, who nobody is sure why she's tagged along, falls asleep.
(This is non-canon unless and until I can work it in.)
I'm looking forward to Gale's conversation with Mystra in this timeline. I know it's done for game balance reasons, but the optics are hilarious, especially with how much more powerful low level casters are, with cantrips.
I managed to get my backlog up to one chapter in time to post this. This is the last part of the non-Goblin area 1 quests (Underdark does not count, and both it and the Creche will happen. How is confidential at this point.) For those who celebrate, Happy Thanksgiving. For those who don't, please enjoy the chapter.
Content Note: Astarion's Clearing is the last scene. It's 90% less explicit than the game; think a GM doing a fancy paragraph of 'filth happened and here's the absolute broadest strokes, you absolute perverts'. The majority of it is plot-related, and there are handful of paragraphs/blocks of text which is easily identified and skippable for those uncomfortable with male-male romance. (Yes it also includes the start of the disaster trio in earnest.)
EDIT: updated for accuracy. I forgot how long I made the 'interlude'.
_______________________________________________________________
Shadowheart
"I think we took a wrong turn."
The expanding tundra before you would agree with Torius' statement. "Whatever was your first clue?" you mutter poisonously. You'd let your guard down. Let it down horribly, and while it hadn't resulted in immediate repercussion you keep finding yourself glancing at your hand.
Your Lady is silent in both word and punishment, however.
"Shar, then?" Godless.
You pointedly ignore her, preferring to observe Creccoth loom over Torius again.
"Tootsie. Aren't you meant to stop Torius from doing such things as vaporize a village we use as a major sign-post?" Despite his words, he seems more tiredly amused than actually angry.
"For his own good. A 'reliable adult' played along, so that's me settled." The badger's sneer makes your neck prickle. A Selunite being, but inured to whatever chaos its partner wrought. Such behavior was foreign to all you'd heard of their ilk. "Selune tasked me with looking after her… paladin's… friend. As a personal favor. Whatever he does outside that is his business."
"I'm flattered you think of me as a 'reliable adult'," Gale chimes in.
"Nope."
"Ah, then I-" Wyll begins.
"Nuh-uh."
"Please tell me it's not me," Astarion pleads.
Godless waves her hand. "Clearly it's me. I've lived more lifetimes than perhaps Astarion, and unlike him it was outside the thrall of a master vampire."
Creccoth eyes her. "So what was your rationale?"
"Gale said you'd picked over most of what value there was, it was reasonably close to the Grove full of refugees - which was Torius' complaint - and all those there were goblins. He opened the Fire Storm, I merely added my own voice."
"And so we followed suit." Wyll looks entirely unrepentant. "Not a single soul in that village would hesitate before killing and robbing passerby, in that order. It was one thing to cow them, but leaving them to do their work was a poor…" He trails off.
You soon realize why. The scent of smoke is on the breeze. "We didn't circle 'round, did we." It is a statement.
Torius raises his head, eyes narrowed. "Shadowheart, if what I think is happening is going on, you'll want your shield. Hit its face, and intone what you want it to consume. It'll inhale all that fits the descriptor in a… wide radius. Oh, and if you say 'air', make sure to specify 'my enemies' air'." He gives you a squinting glare. "I learned that one the hard way."
"Tsk'va! We haven't the time to-""
"Overruled!" Creccoth barks, running ahead. Torius follows with Wyll close at his heels.
"Hup hup!" Karlach dashes after, and upon exchanging a tired look with Astarion you follow.
It looks something like a township, but there are a multitude of corpses. Your eyes catch drow, goblin, and human. A row of living soldiers stand holding a gate.
The rest of the town? Inn? Is aflame.
"Waukeen's Rest…" Wyll sounds distraught. "A haven for travelers out in these parts. These men and women are the Flaming Fist of Baldur's Gate."
"Hm. One wonders if they remain as they were, after Gorion's Ward took their lead." Godless' whisper goes mostly unheard, but you notice that Torius and Creccoth both overhear her.
Creccoth looks to you, and you step forward. "Torius, what do I need to do?" You heft the shield.
"There are people in the buildings-" a Fist begins.
"Metal to metal, and call out the biggest problem!" Torius flickers after he finishes speaking, suddenly at an entrance to the inn. He claps his hands together and glows scarlet, then dashes in.
Without hesitation, you slam your morningstar into the face of your shield. "FIRE!" you roar, putting your diaphragm into the shout.
And the metal… moves. It shapes into a face, puffy-cheeked and scowling. The eyes are shut, its lips pursed. And with a rumble against your arm, it inhales.
Flames stream from the buildings, stripped from their mooring and vanishing down the gullet of your shield. Scorched, unstable wood is left behind but the flames all course towards you and into the metal on your arm. Heat does not touch you, smoke does not so much as brush your lips. All is consumed by the armor, the weapon, the thing perched on your arm.
You had thought the morningstar was the most dangerous- enhancing your spellcasting, granting you insight into the world around you. No, this shield has demonstrated which of the two were the focus, and which was meant to sow death.
With a sigh, the feast of flame comes to an end. The banquet is empty, with the only sound being a raucous roaring from the other side of the gate.
Karlach hefts her blade. "Well! Time for another go, eh?"
"Wait. We have no idea what's on the other side, and we should-" you begin.
Creccoth jerks his head at Gale. "Let's get inside that inn. We can gauge the situation from inside, and if needed we can cast from the windows. Astarion, with us. Godless, Shadowheart- help tend the wounded. Tootsie- go underground and see what you can find." He pauses. "Karlach, Lae'zel, go help hold the line. Wyll, see if you can find out what exactly happened. Scratch… stay."
Torius had already dashed off, so you simply go to apply what healing you know to those who are still breathing. Godless follows closely.
You notice Wyll jog towards a Fist who at least appears in charge. Tootsie dives underground right past him.
"This raid has been going on for no small amount of time. They repelled the ones who came from the southern road, but they were caught in the middle." You murmur this to yourself as you kneel by an unconscious woman. A pulse of energy closes the worst of her wounds, and you decide to save the rest to tend to anyone else still alive.
"Interesting. Most who follow the Dark Lady tend towards a more callous path."
"Helping here gets me information, resources, and goodwill. Also, Creccoth asked it of the both of us- as the leader of our group, he's performed admirably enough. He tends toward more elegant solutions. If he suggests a course of action, at this point I'm willing to see where it goes. To a point." You glance back at Godless. "And what of you?"
She places her hands together, and exhales. "Vivre Tandem."
Light surges through the courtyard, and you see your efforts replicated across multiple bodies. Some are untouched, despite the armor of the Fist. If the spell passed them over, then they must be dead.
"A bit more practical to use one to catch as many as possible. This way, more lives are preserved if they are bleeding out." Godless' words touch upon one of your few remaining memories, where you are chastised for inefficiency. In what, you are not sure. Only that penalties soon followed. "However, you may not yet have access to such spells. Such will come with time." And with the certainty of her statement, the memory falls away.
You look at her, unsure. The reassurance is… alien. Not something you remember from your cloister, if you recall much at all. And yet in the past few days, you wonder if you have received more of it than the rest of your life. Torius, Creccoth's faith in your abilities, and now Godless.
With a hiss, you clutch your hand. The train of thought is interrupted, and you focus on the now. The followers of the Dark Lady do not seek comfort in word or deed, merely the emptiness promised by Shar herself. The temptations are sweet, and all the more dangerous for it.
And yet as you hear Torius cackling, and see Karlach give you a sidelong glance and friendly smile… you yearn. Just a little.
"I wiped out a buncha crooks and hit PAYDIRT! There's barrels of explosive powder, paintings, metals and supplies and weapons and all kinds of crap! Or, well, were. It's in my hidey-hole now!"
A headache, wholly unconnected from your wound, begins to brew. "...why do I try?" you finally ask Godless.
"Because sometimes you succeed. He seems to pay you some mind, same as the rest. Do not falter." Not an admonition, but a statement - as though fact.
"Oh, also: meet Miss Florrick! She came with me on the adventure!'
"Councillor!?"
"Wyll Ravenguard?"
"Perhaps we should rejoin our companions. This promises to be… edifying." Godless, covered as she is, manages to convey dry amusement with her voice alone. As though a matron looking after a pack of rambunctious children. …perhaps to her, you are.
"So they said something about serpents and shadows-" I started.
"Zhentarim. Not the ones outside the gate, but criminals nonetheless." Miss Florrick gave me a stern look. "Young man, there is a greater than even chance that the majority of their merchandise was gained by illicit means."
I stared blankly.
"It was likely stolen."
An explosion rocked outside the gate, and the yelling stopped.
"That was likely our comrades," Wyll offers. "Counselor, would you have come from Elturel?"
"Yes. Wyll, it gives me no pleasure to say this, but- your father has been taken. Duke Ulder Ravenguard was abducted by drow and spirited to the west, in the direction of an abandoned Selunite Temple-"
"Taken over by goblins?" I blurted out.
Florrick paused. She looked at me. "Yes."
"Okay, so those goblins are worshiping a new mystery cult, at least one of those drow was infected by a mind flayer parasite and went after an archdruid, and said archdruid is currently at that camp. And if the drow took the Duke there, then it's all got to be connected," I babbled excitedly. I blinked. I processed. "And I knew you were noble-born!" I chirp triumphantly, pointing at Wyll.
"Yes. He was…" Florrick gave Wyll a sad look. Compassionate, but sad.
"My father banished me. He… met my patron. As I could not discuss context, I could not mount a proper defense. It's why I agreed to discuss it with the rest of our group, so they couldn't perform the same ploy a second time." Wyll gave me a sad smile. "You were very right to recommend it, Torius." He cleared his throat. "We have business at a nearby Druid Grove, but once it is completed we will make our way to the temple with all haste." Wyll glanced at me. "However much I would prefer to go to his aid immediately."
I shrugged. "Creccoth's call. If he wants to split us up, I'll go blow up some gobbos with you."
Wyll's returning smile is heartwarming. "And I appreciate that sentiment. With that said…" He folds his arms. "The contraband?"
I pout and turn to Florrick. "So… is there such a thing as a finder's fee?"
"You managed to free an enslaved painter, stole everything that wasn't nailed down, much of what was, and with a single scream you slaughtered every criminal in that cave. I'm honestly surprised something like 'law' is a concern of yours." The wood elf raised an elegant eyebrow.
"You seem neat, and you're Wyll's friend. I'll play nice." I tapped my index fingers together. "...can I keep the exploding barrels though?"
"You may, if only because the idea of what you might do with them against that horde gives me a rather dark sense of satisfaction."
"Ehhh. I'd want to keep the temple intact, so calling an early winter might be a good idea."
"Use the barrels," Shadowheart advised. "Save the spells for places that aren't abandoned."
Karlach wandered over, dropping an elbow on Shadowheart's shoulder. "So! Sounds like fearless leader handled that rout." She sighed. "And here I was, hoping to face the horde."
"Chk. This was-"
"I got like five hundred kilo of smokepowder, and more wine than I could drink in a century.""
"A surprisingly fruitful detour," Lae'zel finished. She turned her head to look at me.
"I am so ready to make bad things happen to bad people." I jittered in place.
"Agreed, but they have hostages. We need to take care and be subtle at first." Wyll held up a placating hand.
Tootsie poked her head out of the ground. "Oi. Saw Githyanki to the west. They're patrolling."
Lae'zel gave a dangerous smile. "Fortuitous. I retract my earlier complaints- and once we reach the grove, we need not even find 'Zorru'. Badger, inform Creccoth when he returns so he may mark the area on the map."
"Sure, sure. Swamp elf."
Florrick gave a firm cough. "I will make my way to where the drow mentioned- Moonrise. If they've moved Duke Ravenguard already, we can at least seek out where his next destination is." She looked around at us. "And thank you. If not for your intervention, many more lives would be lost. Especially the two of you."
Shadowheart smiled a little, clearly off-guard. As a Sharran, this definitely wouldn't have been her usual reception.
Godless simply nodded. "It was of little cost. I would consider resting for the night before pushing on, if only to give your wounds time to set properly."
"So." A large hand covered the top of my head. "What's this I hear about smokepowder?" Creccoth asked in a mild tone.
I grinned up at him. "Now I can make even bigger boom, with less spell!"
He stared down at me. Leaned closer. His nose almost touched my cheek. "No," he whispered.
I whined- and not alone. Astarion slumped behind Creccoth.
"...maybe. If you behave very, very well. And don't obliterate the next enemy encampment on contact before we have a chance to loot it."
"The young man just emptied a Zhent cache. You will not hurt for supplies for the next several tendays." Florrick folds her arms with a smirk. She gave me a long look, and seemed to come to a decision. "Unfortunately, I was unable to categorize what might have been contraband- he was too quick, you see. So you'll have to be responsible for it all."
Creccoth shot the Councillor a wounded look while I stared in awe. Astarion regained his poise, and gave her a sunny smile.
"Wyll, your dad's friend is so cool!" I squealed.
The former noble laughed.
____________________________________________________________________________
Wyll
You sit with Gale, admiring his technique at preparing the food. Though you had grown used to solitude in the Frontiers, this group has grown on you. The lovely ladies for one, though it seems the local wizard is possessed of more domestic skill in his pinky than the rest have in their entire bodies.
"So you see, slicing the root vegetable just so allows for sufficient mass and quantity to both evenly cook in the stew and distribute through the mixture," he explains, clearly glad of a captive audience. Gale speaks as one who enjoys the sound of his own voice. Or, perhaps, one who hopes to be listened to. Perhaps the truth is somewhere in between.
"An excellent point. My usual preference is to season some meat and veg, spit it all over a fire, and turn it until I'm reasonably sure I won't regret eating it later," you joke.
"Ah, but there's an art to that as well. It takes trial and rather unfortunate error to get it right, so that you're still among us means you must have learned at some point." Gale's smile is a friendly sight, and despite the poor news you received you feel somewhat at ease.
Less so him, as he turns back to the stew. "Wyll… are you alright?" He gives you a look of concern. "That information, that your father was captured…"
"I worry. Of course I do. But he is captive, and sufficiently important that it is unlikely he will be killed. Much evil could be done with him as a hostage, especially if Torius' theory that the cult is utilizing these parasites is true." You motion to your head. "But if we can get close enough, Torius can protect him even if he is infected. It may be poor form to rely on the lad so, but."
"Oh, not hardly. We've both been diminished by these worms, and not only is he free of them he still possesses powers that Mystra forbade centuries and decades ago. Perhaps not to the scale that caused the fall of the Netherese, but certainly beyond what most living mortals can produce." Gale frowns a little. "I do worry for him, though. The more time we spend with him, the more evident it is that he is so very young. If he gets heartbroken, or the burdens he carries become too heavy, then I'm unsure what will transpire."
"Simple. We stand by him as he has decided to stand by us. Not only for our brain-bugs, but in other regards. It is not about debts and alliances; he has endeavored to be a friend. So, we shall be as such to him."
Gale's smile lights him up from within, and his tired face is more radiant than you've seen. "Just so. Perhaps I overthought it. After all, I've had precious few friends in my life. My family, Tara- the tressym who blessed me with companionship- Mystra, and the likes of Elminster. This is the most diverse gathering I've been fortunate enough to partake in." He pauses. "Though I would like it if it was without the tadpoles or the orb in my chest."
"And I would enjoy traveling with you lot more if I were not beholden to a fiend from the hells, But here we are." You shrug.
"My, my. So you actually brought it up with someone?"
Shit.
You stand and turn.
In the midst of your campsite, she strides in. Mizora, dusky beauty that she is with her azure skin and flame-red hair, stands proud. Her smile is dark with promise. …and she had to walk in.
"Well, pup. I've not the slightest how you managed to keep mum about things. Neither in fact, can I fathom whom you found that can cast a proper Dimensional Anchor in this day and age. But all things considered I really must say I am… disappointed."
The air around your throat contracts, and she pulls with a crooked finger. You bend double, stumbling towards her.
"What is the meaning of this?" Creccoth descends like an avenging angel.
"Mizora. Hells, not you." Karlach's mouth splits in a grimace. "Gods, Wyll. No wonder you were sent after me." Her look turns sympathetic.
"Hello, Karlach. Still alive, I see." Her gaze slides from the tiefling to you. Then when she opens her mouth, she pauses. Blinks. Looks back. "What manner of disguise are you under?"
"No disguise. I removed the engine and regrew her heart." As you look up from your near-prone state, Torius' garish robes fill your vision. He is standing between you and Mizora. "Your order was rendered against contract retroactively. You have his attention, now let him go. Any further and you'll be engaging in illegal retribution."
Immediately, you can breathe again. You stand, and peer over Torius' head.
You cannot see his face, but whatever Mizora sees has her frowning slightly. "An aspiring infernal lawyer?" She smiles. "Adorable. Also, impossible. Any attempt to remove that engine would kill Karlach outright."
Torius tilted his head. "Would you like a witness?"
"Sweetling, it's cute that you think you can meddle here, but you're in over your head. There is not a single solitary soul who could convince me that you-" Mizora points at him, "fixed her." She sneers at Karlach. There is old, bad blood there. More confirmation that you were used as an instrument of petty vengeance. "I have no idea how you managed to uncover the details of the contract, as Wyll clearly did not tell you." She smiles at you. "After all, he isn't a Lemure. At the moment."
Your heart begins to race. At first, she was here to chastise you. Now she's out for blood.
It is then that a fragrant scent hits your nose- spicy, sweet. Almost… like…?
Cinnamon.
"Mm. What a brisk night. Strangers, might I share your fire for a spell?" There's a soft sound of moving leaves. You dare not look away from Mizora, but the woman enters your view regardless.
She is clad in a dress like a starless night, and her hair is a cascade of obsidian fire. Her eyes burn with amber hell-flame, and her lips stained with blackened nightshade. Her wings, her skin, gleam like burnished copper. At her waist is a coil of serrated metal and a small dagger. Small horns pin her hair from her brow like a crown.
The devil smiles at Torius. "It's hardly a night to be alone, after all. Don't you think, love?"
Torius turns his head, and you see the feral smile that he aims at her. "I'll behave if you will."
The devastating beauty trills a laugh. "I do so love our little not-bargains. Mutually profitable, less paperwork, and neither of us on a leash." She looks to Mizora.
The cambion is frozen, her face a picture. You cannot place the emotions on it, because in the context of her, they are utterly alien. Her mouth half-open, eyes wide. She leans back, not quite recoiling- as though she is afraid to move. To draw notice.
The strange devil sighs. "Unfortunately, while I could deliver judgment for this overstep here and now, you don't want that. She's tied him to her life. If she dies while he is pacted - in a great number of ways - he becomes one of Zariel's Lemures. Straight to the front lines with his new lumpiness and all." She leans towards Torius conspiratorially. "You seem fond of him, so we'll need to get inventive."
"I'm good with inventive," Torius replies in a distant tone, gaze returning to Mizora. "It just means if there's something they like more than living, I can take that instead."
"I had no idea he was one of yours, oh Lady." Mizora quickly steps one pace backward and curtsies. She does not take her eyes from the devil.
She titters again. "Love, this is why being out and about is so important! Building one's image amongst the commoners." She gives you a vicious smile. "For example, the Blade of Frontiers. A hero to the downtrodden, fueled by an infernal pact. There's a delicious irony there." She looks back. "Now. Mizora, do tell- why are you picking a fight with the Chosen of Jergal?"
The cambion opens her mouth-
"From a time before he yielded his authorities to his woefully inadequate successors. A Chosen of Death, the Dead, Strife, Fate, and Record."
Her mouth slams shut, and her terror redoubles.
Torius groans. "Glas, you know better. All he did was give me scrolls. Every bit of power I have is mine."
Mizora looks at him, eyes wide.
Torius tilts his head. You cannot see his face. "He took me on because of my power, and the sheer chaos I create just by existing. Even before you and I kicked Tiamat around back when the Empire was floating in the sky."
The words shatter what composure your patron has. You have seen her sneer, fling spells into a cult of Tiamat, give you boon and blade and power. You have seen her pride, her cunning, her malice.
And now you have seen her kneel.
"I plead ignorance. Had I known the Lord Chosen rectified Karlach's status as a valid target, I would have withdrawn the order." Mizora looks upward. She has thrown herself on the mercy of an ancient boy-mage and the Lady of the Sixth Hell. One has cause to despise her, and the other is an inveterate sadist by nature. It is her only hope.
"And here after I so kindly pointed out to Zariel that Karlach was in the clear! You were there for that, weren't you sweetling?"
"Yes, Lady Glasya."
You chance a look at Karlach. She stares at Glasya in utter bafflement.
"Torius neatly removed her last collar on the woman. And as the engine was forced on Karlach as an unwanted gift, Zariel has no claim to that either. Thus its repurposing is entirely legal and within my dear friend's rights." Glasya tilts up her chin, gaze locked on Mizora. "And you thought yourself so clever, that you could take advantage of a loophole you built into the boy's contract with just such a moment in mind." Glasya sighs. "And I am loathe to admit that were it not for Torius walking this world once more, you would have succeeded. His mastery of divine magics is second to none. Past and present." She lowers her head. "And now I find myself in a dilemma. I do hate those, you know."
Mizora trembles, silent. She dares not look away.
"You did push the envelope, but not to the point I can properly punish you. You entered where you weren't wanted, but that's hardly illegal. But likewise, I am under no obligation to protect you from Torius' ire. And sweetling, it is his you should fear. Mad Maggie informed me one of her youngest siblings encountered you recently." Glasya turns her poison smile to Torius. "Dearest, I am ever so thrilled to hear you haven't lost your edge."
Torius hums, still looking at Mizora. "Did you tell Zariel I was back?"
"Mm, no. Why?" Glasya places a hand on her hip.
"Mizora. Deliver a message for me, and I am willing to overlook your transgression."
The cambion tenses. Something almost like hope crosses her face.
"Tell Zariel: 'Torius left the Archives, and he remembers breaking a baboon with you. His marker stands'." The archivist steps forward, looming over Mizora. "Those exact words."
Slightly baffled, Mizora stands. "That's all?"
Torius nods. "No return message required."
Mizora stares at him a moment more. "I…see." She clearly does not. With a brief shimmy, she visibly composes herself. "Well! Off I go to play messenger girl. Not as though I've done as much since I became part of her council, but needs must." She gives a smile so confident you nearly forget that she was cowering scant seconds ago. "Pup, I'll be sure to give you a more… fitting assignment before too long." She looks to Torius. "And you."
Torius folds his arms.
"You really ought to be more careful. I have great magic, multiple warlocks, and so many favors to draw upon. And asking me to deliver a line of nonsense to my mistress? Such a waste." She strides to the campsite's edge. "Your loss, Lord Chosen. Ta!"
A cyclone of flame. A gust of sulfur. Silence.
Torius looks over at Glasya. "Not half full of herself, is she?" he comments mildly.
"Oh, arrogant as ever. It's earned, though. A cambion in Zariel's court is rare, and she's the only one who made her council. Not quite Raphael's little fiefdom in Avernus, but still a rarity." Glasya smiles at him. "With that said, however…"
"Now Zariel knows I'm back. If I call directly, she'll answer- in case I run into a problem with much punching." Torius' smile returns with a deranged glint in his eyes. "And if Mizora survives informing her, then I'll know she's truly valued by Zariel. And if she returns, I can proceed from there."
Glasya covers her mouth. "Darling! You truly think she'd do such a thing?"
"If I apply infernal corruption to what I remember? I'd be astounded otherwise."
Glasya's titter is gone. In its place… is a cackle.
She raises her hand once more, placing the back of it before her lips. "Oh love, I'd almost forgotten how quick you can be sometimes. It's gratifying to be reminded." Her smile grows a little. "Well! I'm sure you have plenty to talk about with your little friends, so I'll give you some privacy. I'll be around and about. Big things are happening, you know." She pauses. "Unless you have something to ask of me?"
"When I do, you'll know." His response is cool, calm.
Glasya struts away, wiggling her fingers in farewell. "Ta, love. Do keep being your lovely, entertaining self. It kills the boredom of managing Malbolge in a way little does anymore." She pauses. "And clever of you to figure out that death by her mistress is one of the very, very few ends that won't result in transmogrification for your little comrade. Masterfully done, my friend."
And without sulfur or flame or fanfare, with only wistful respect: she simply vanishes. It manages to be far more intimidating than Mizora's display.
Creccoth approaches you, but you wave him down. "What did that cost you?" you ask Torius.
"Not a thing, materially or morally. Maybe some goodwill, here."
"You've got an Archdevil willing to advocate for you. For free. And she's decided, what, that we're yours so fall under your protection?" Astarion stumbles forward, eyes wide.
"Not free. Mizora about shat herself in front of mortals, and like Torius said: Zariel's got a new him-shaped headache. And if she loses her temper, might be down her best negotiator." Karlach folds her arms. "Glasya's smart. Gives him everything he wants to a point, aims him where he wants to go- and it flips everyone's board but hers. And if it does flip one of hers, it's a small one she can afford to drop."
"I never claimed to be good, you know. I like helping others, but I'm not a paragon." Torius looks at the rest of you calmly. "And honestly, neither Glasya nor I want to antagonize the other too much. A protracted fight doesn't benefit either of us on any scale."
"And you're friends." Karlach's calm. Not 'too calm'. Just… calm.
"As close as we can be to that, yes. We like and respect each other. There are boundaries of trust. But it's all conditional and limited."
And at that, Karlach nods. "Good. I can respect that." She exhales. "Well! Let's hope Zariel does something good for once and gets rid of Mizora in a fit of temper. Might mean a little less power for Wyll-"
"Or I could source his pact from one of the Celestials that owes me. Warlocks can do that, right?"
"It's irregular, but such pacts do exist," Godless comments. "Though the quicker thing to do would be to open your vaults once more and compensate with all manner of mystical treasure."
You turn to Torius with a curious look.
"...would you like twenty smokepowder barrels?"
Well. Not much you couldn't solve with those.
Creccoth wraps an arm around his waist and picks him up. "No." And then he carries the nonplussed archivist away.
Gale catches your eye and shrugs.
Tootsie lays down by the fire, Scratch a snoring lump next to her. "And so the torch is passed…" she grumbles. And pauses. "To a possible serial killer. On second thought, I should prob'ly stick around."
The night's resolved with a minimum of damage to you and your compatriots. But as you observe, you notice something.
"Where did Astarion sneak off to?"
____________________________________________________________________________
Astarion
"I must say darlings, this, ah, isn't precisely what I expected." Flat on your stomach isn't a position you're unfamiliar with, but the context is… quite different. Rather odd, really. At least the grass in the clearing is comfortable.
"Okay, so this fork here is pretty much a signature flourish. From it, I can definitely confirm that this was worded by a very particular archdevil." Torius' fingers gently glide over the skin of your back, carefully light.
"Wait, what?" You try to crane your neck.
"This is an infernal contract. Part of one at least. The meter and verbiage are Canian, and with this evidence I can conclude that it's with Mephistopheles himself. Not a minor thing." Torius sounds… perturbed. In a scant few days you have heard him angry, confused, and upset. Worried is something new, and admittedly unwelcome.
"Apologies Astarion. It's not what I planned on myself, but…" Creccoth trails off meaningfully. Ultimately, you find yourself forced to agree. Once Torius caught sight of your back, he immediately went full 'force of nature'.
"You said Cazador carved this." And there's that 'dangerously mild' tone again. The tone which indicated someone was about to die horribly if things did not change to align in a very specific way.
"He said it was poetry," you spit, "and as mirrors are no longer a luxury I can partake in I had no chance to check against it. Not to mention I've not the slightest learning in Infernal." You look downwards. "He made… many revisions. Apparently my screaming made his hand slip. Not that the bastard seemed displeased."
Torius moves from straddling your waist, and you quickly turn over.
Creccoth gently places a hand on your shoulder, helping you up.
Torius… sits. Looks at you with a quiet, composed look. It reminds you of when you were in the House of Hope.
You're not sure what to say. Creccoth seems to be similarly flummoxed. Eventually, when the silence stretches on, you default to: "So? What of it?" Bravado.
"The numerology says seven, but as a prefix. More than seven souls." The archivist's eyes gleam in the moonlight like bloodstained diamonds, pink streaked over some inner lumosity.
"Well, there are seven spawn, including myself. So what, is that the price he's paying for something?" You lean back, letting Creccoth's arm support you. His muscles tense, and he maneuvers to keep you sitting up with his own body.
"...I'll need to go over some of my books. I recognize the phrasing, but before I decide on a clear course of action I need to know what my response will include." Torius pauses, and those eyes lock on yours. "Besides Cazador screaming for death, of course."
Your breath catches. He says it as though it's pure fact, something immutable. He intends bloody vengeance on your master. A man he has never met. "Not- not that I am opposed to this, but why? For all he's a monster, a madman-"
"He hurt you." The sky is blue. Grass is green. "Do I need another reason?"
"This may have escaped you, Astarion, but you are part of this group. We're invested in your welfare by definition." Creccoth's voice is colored by grim humor. When you look up, there's a raging swirl of bloodlust that you rarely glimpse before Torius or Tootsie smother it. "And I don't mind exercising my… imagination… on such a man as you've described."
The mood should be dead and gone. With your new knowledge, with- everything. But Torius' hands are gentle on your arms, and Creccoth's heart beats steady against your spine.
"Sorry for- sorry. If you're not in the mood anymore, I understand." The Chosen of Jergal recedes, and the boy remains. He is sheepish, sweet, eyes on you. "That was a lot."
"Are you?" you find yourself asking. "I don't need to ask him." You point at Creccoth, who gives a toothsome smile. "Freak." The insult holds more fondness than you intend, and his blazing eyes manage to twinkle.
Torius ducks his head. "I'm not sure if we should…"
You roll your eyes. "Darling, you can prattle at me, cuddle me, or help this brute make me forget all I've learned tonight in new and exciting ways- well, new for you at least. Right now I need a distraction." With what you've learned, you can't stop now. You need them to be more than invested, you need devotion. Although, you think-
Torius squeaks when Creccoth pulls him into your lap, and you are encased in warmth. Creccoth's scales a soft, gentle rasp at your back, the dusting of hair on Torius' skin lightly tickling your own. Curious, nervous lips find yours, and you give him a soft peck.
And you stop thinking.
The night rolls onward, and while at times you drift you find yourself frequently coming back to the present. Eager, earnest, and surprisingly enjoyable. Teaching and learning, touching and tasting, bodies never in the same spot for too long. The three of you have flexible appetites, and do your best to sate each others'. There is talk and movement and sweet, aching bliss. When you are 'there', you cannot even call it a burden at all.
More than once, hot sweetness pours down your throat. It is not always from the bottle, and not always from Torius.
And as the moon kisses the horizon, as dawn threatens to break the treeline, you find yourself sated. Torius' head pillows on Creccoth's chest, forehead to yours. You both curl into the dragonborn, and his arms cage you close. The faint breeze of breath brushes your curls, and Torius' hand wraps around yours on Creccoth's stomach.
It is warm. For the first time in centuries, you are warm, and safe. You were properly fed. You were tended to, caringly. Almost lovingly. You are held like a treasure.
And when the sun hits your skin, and those two boys stir you think:
Ah. Oh dear. I may have, perhaps, miscalculated.
But they wake, and any time for panic has gone. You push the feelings away, to examine them another night in solitude. Dawn and day push ecstasy and rest to the back of your mind, and you must turn to the road ahead.
Was I kind of hoping Glasya would become Wyll's new contract mommy? Yes. Would that have been a bad idea? Also yes. Do I love seeing him with bad girls? Yes and yes.
I've just had further Thoughts about how Torius could cast Miracle. Maybe he literally just casts a Sending spell to Jergal asking for some divine intervention. People try to call him on it 'That felt like a 4th level spell. No way was that 9th level. Are you sure that's supposed to work like that?' And then Torius going 'But look!' *jazz hands* and Jergal uses his enormous fate-weaving powers to provide aid to Torius at the perfect moment for Maximum Drama, and Torius gets his Miracle and is able to rub it in all his doubter's faces.
With the epilogue scenes out, there are a bunch of delicious new scenes expanding on characters, and a couple of reveals of outcomes for characters. Awful, horrible, predictable outcomes, but them actually being there completes character descents in perfect ways. Plus Minthara now recruitable without wiping out the Tieflings, so that's something I'll be doing when I get to my next playthrough.
.