Running From Her Past ... Leaving Corpses In Her Wake...

Independent RP Blog for The Dark Urge || Canon-Divergent || Mun & Muse are 21+ || Multiship || Semi-Selective || Penned by Yeen

[lookingforroleplayers]

Baldur's Gate RP masterlist!

Reblog this post and add in the tags

your URL

if you’re a single muse or a multimuse

if they're canon or an OC

your muse’s name

EXAMPLE: scrunklyrpblog, single muse, animal crossing verse, Scrunkly the Mighty

to be added in the list!

this is a masterlist only for the Baldur's Gate series! If you're interested in other DND blogs, please check this masterlist!

NOTE: if you have a multimuse blog, write as many muses as you have; if you’d like, feel free to give your muse a “title” to describe them!

Characters in alphabetical order can be found HERE

[bhaalspawned-dragoness]

New Face!

Soooo as you can see ... we've done a bit of rebranding and a makeover! I've played a lot (and I mean, a LOT) of BG3 during my time away from this blog and one of all the characters I've played, one has latched onto my heart and mind the way no others have. So I decided that if I was gonna dip my toes back into the BG3 RP space again, it hadda be with Scyreth, so now here we are! Her about page can be found right here, which includes in-game refs, drawn refs, and a full backstory so you can get better-acquainted with our scaly darling. I hope you come to love her anywhere near as much as I do and that we write all kinds of fantastic stuff together. Stay tuned for an open starter available to moots coming along soon!

[bhaalspawned-dragoness]

I'm still alive, cuties! Between a worse-than-usual sleep schedule and other distractions, finding time and energy for writing and posting stuff has been tricky. I'll be making my comeback soon, though, don't you worry! <3

[bhaalspawned-dragoness]

A lone draconic figure sat by the edge of the campfire, various pieces of plate armor strewn out to finish drying after having been cleaned of the day's grime and gore. Across his lap is his large greatsword, a whetstone held firmly between his taloned fingers that he stroked against the keen edges of the blade over and over in slow steady motions. A dull weapon made for sloppy work, after all. The Oathbreaker gave a soft nasal sigh as he worked, pale blue eyes watching the dancing flickering flames before him. The more he came to understand the nature of the Urge, interspersed with faint flickers of distant memory nipping at the corners of his ruined mind, the harder it was becoming to keep these darkest parts of himself in check. In truth, he had hoped that with time and recollection, his mastery over it would have improved, and yet ... the deeper he delved, the hotter his blood boiled and the throbbing of his skull only worsened. That night was no different. Sleep refused to come, with the pounding in his head reaching a fevered crescendo, and so he used his discomfort as an excuse to tend to his equipment, hoping it would provide a reasonable amount of distraction. So far, it didn't seem to be working ... Even now his aching head twisted and writhed as it obsessively relived every moment of violence enacted that day. Every thrust of a blade erupting in crimson, every withering of flesh from a potent spell ... he shuddered and the feeling triggered an immediate instinctive wave of nausea. That he could find pleasure in things so heinous still deeply disturbed him, no matter how many times it came to pass. Tyrannus had assumed that the rest of the camp's occupants had already turned in for the night, and so he had no true reason to anticipate company. Little did he know that another pair of eyes was still upon him from elsewhere in the camp... @baldurmade

[fatewoven]

Progress marks the day fruitful, every hour and minute spent on work with deals garnered and connections deepened. Intermittently, the indulgence of a wandering mind allowed as a reprieve from the tedium of writing letters and finalizing documents, Enver pictures midnight-dark scales painted crimson, the panting of a creature turned desperate by baser instincts — reduced to something pliable by his hands alone. Ink splatters across the vellum from a motionless hand, marring preliminary weapon designs, and sigh bereaved, yet refusing to give into exhaustion, he returns to work.

By the time the familiar knock interrupts the quiet, there's a stack of letters exchanging hands with the Banite courier. "Enter." Murmured softly, attention still on the last parchment, Raddox's arrival is marked not by proper greetings, but the quiet scratch of quill against parchment, the stifled breathing of the courier as she avoids looking at the Bhaalspawn; little wonder when two of his prior couriers were ripped apart on a whim.

Marking the letter with his flourishing signature, waiting for the ink to dry, his gaze finally swivels to his partner, the restless energy palpable — apparent in the dilated eyes and the curl of dagger-sharp teeth showing. Smile warm, handing the last letter to the courier in silent dismissal, Enver rises. Only to lean against his table and curl his hand as clear invitation and command. "You've become more patient, dear." Praise murmured like smoke, the camphor of incense cloying sweet as he leans in, gold-adorned knuckles curl over draconian features. "Such discipline should be rewarded, no?"

He touches bone. Traces horns and protruding spikes of a spine while slowly circling Raddox. Outside the room, a Steel Watcher takes vigil to ensure they will not be interrupted for the rest of the night.

"Close your eyes. Don't peek. I'd rather avoid ruining the surprise I have in store for you," he rasps, low and weighed by wicked promise. Beside the fireplace a set of clean steel rods gleam, not even a whisper of air marking his steps as he retrieves one of them. It's not until the sharpened ends presses against the vulnerable soft give between scales Enver speaks again: "How many do you think you can take?" The steel bites and digs, finding flesh yielding. Buries itself into a body that welcomes pain oh so willingly, and he pushes it deeper — knowledgeable enough to avoid organs.

[bhaalspawned-dragoness]

The ebon serpent keeps himself on a tight leash as he takes note of the presence of the anxious courier ... but he still intends to remind her that only the presence of her Lord keeps him restrained. He is not 'safe', nor 'domestic' ... he is a force of visceral violence that can act in the span of an instant if he wished. He stalks slowly behind her while she tries to keep her attention fixed upon her master, draconian muzzle leaning in uncomfortably close to the side of her neck. Near enough to be able to see the quickened throb of her pulse. Oh, how he yearned to halt it in its tracks ... free her precious life's blood in a fountain of scarlet ... but patience and restraint would reward him with greater thrills than mere carnage that night, and so he stays his hand and slowly brushes right past the terrified woman as he exits her personal space. This one gets to live ... for now. In the instant that she receives his final document and rushes out of the room in dutiful relief, she is forgotten ... the full force of his rapt attention fixed upon Enver as he heeded that wordless beckoning and pressed close to the object of his desire. The fire in his veins. A low pleased growl rumbles from Raddox as he relishes every teasing touch, even as he slips around behind him before he can truly lock him into his hungry grasp. When bidden to close his eyes, he gives a soft chuffing huff of impatience ... but he yields, fiery crimson orbs extinguished for the moment by the closing of his lids. "Hmmph. You do so love your little games, sweet tyrant ... and luckily for you, I favor you enough to indulge them." Ah, but how swiftly he would change his tune, reluctant compliance twisting into a pleasured gasp as the keen point of cold metal sunk deep into his flesh with all the lurid intimacy of his lover's turgid length invading his innards. A delectable agonizing metaphor that was certainly not lost upon him. Even in the haze of his mounting arousal, he couldn't help but be impressed. "Creative little creature..." he all but hissed between clenched fangs. Even now, he could already begin to feel the swell and heat growing between his scaled loins.

[bhaalspawned-dragoness]

Not me only JUST now realizing that some of Raddox's ref art images on the muse page were broken links. 👀 🤡 We gucci now, tho, feel free to admire my wicked child at your leisure: Muse List

[bhaalspawned-dragoness]

Each swing of his blade is rewarded with the sweet melody of death, like plucking the strings of a lute to make exquisite music. Ah, but slaughter was the Chosen's instrument of choice ... and his proficiency with it could make a bard weep for its perverse beauty. When the fire in his blood is finally quenched by that final gout of gore, there is a moment of peace ... quiet. The fervid demands of his bloodthirsty patriarch go silent and for a time, there is a reprieve. Still ... the sharp metallic scent of butchered meat kindles a new flame within his veins. A fresh need manifests and he instinctively knows where to go to see it sated. Picking out Enver's scent amid the carnage is a simple affair. It's burned into his subconscious, as permanent as a brand, and he seeks it like a moth pursues the flame. Raddox appears in the doorframe, his draconic shadow looming large as he regards the Chosen of Bane with hungry eyes. Mid-stride he deftly flicks the blade to his left, the weapon arcing elegantly through the air for a brief moment before thudding deep into a painting upon the far wall. Some sort of idyllic landscape captured in the peak of summer sunshine, now flecked in fresh crimson as the thrown blade pierces the canvas. "Father is appeased by this bountiful harvest, yes ... for now." The dragonborn all but purrs his response in a low rumbling murmur, stooping over Enver's seat as each clawed hand came to rest upon the armrests. A pleased growl reverberates through him at the touch of his lover's hand upon the chitinous crown of those regal horns. Every muscle stood taunt as a fully-drawn bowstring, tension straining through him from snout to tail tip even as his outward body language seemed relaxed. A coiled serpent hungry to strike. "Indeed ... I feel it, fire of my heart. Perhaps you'd care to feel mine, in return, mm...?" An invitation. Crimson eyes are half-lidded but still keenly focused on the fixation of his desires. This man, here before him ... his salvation and his ruin ... poison and panacea all at once.

[fatewoven]

They exist as Chosen, spun to existence by tragedy and blood, the evidence of a world that needs re-making, but for time being he is Enver, hand tightening around a horn to pull the beast lower even as the honed keratin digs against vulnerable skin. His eyes glimmer with the dying embers of the fireplace. His smile proves wretched at the compliment, heart a veritable cathedral echoing those words like something holy rather than the pure blasphemy it is against their gods. "You never fail to impress me."

Releasing the horn, gauntlets skimming over their neck, tracing over the ridges on the jawline, then lower to a throat that bobs eagerly to his possessive touch, his other hand joins the fray. Not a motion wasted as he lips it beneath the cloth of Raddox's armor, teasing at his thighs before circling the tell-tale slit that easily swells. He teases delicately, fingers plucking and drawing patterns in the same manner he tunes any fine instrument, and seeks out noises more pleasurable than the scream of the dying.

"Did you think of me each time you slew one of them? Insatiable thing," he coos, gripping tight, the gold edges of his rings painful against the sensitive flesh. Yet, with a few more strokes, his touch withdraws before Raddox could find his completion — the mess wiped on the armchair before he regards his partner with an indulgent smile. "Apologies. It's close to dawn, and there's a schedule to keep. Come by tomorrow night if you could." Despite the lightness of those words, the command rings clear. No later and no earlier does he expect Raddox to be in his home.

Offering a mollifying gesture, he laps at the pretty (monstrous) snarl, tongue gliding over gnashed teeth as he hums. It's a favorite game to tease and taunt, testing the slowly increasing boundaries of a murderer's patience. "Don't fret. When have I ever left you disappointed for long?"

[bhaalspawned-dragoness]

The dragonborn's breath catches in his throat the moment he feels Enver's hand venture beneath the robes of his armor, teasing at the slit of his sheath that has already begun to swell from the growing rigid flesh within. It isn't long before his ridged length fully emerges, gliding against the Baneite's palm before his hand closed around his shaft possessively and begins to work him. A deep guttural groan snarls out past bared teeth as his hungry flesh pulses and throbs with each stroke and it isn't long before Raddox is practically rutting against Enver's hand, ravenous for his touch. He can scarcely even think straight long enough to form a coherent sentence, his every word colored with arousal. "With every ... slit ... throat." And just as he feels himself cresting the top of that pinnacle, nearing the point of no return as his orbs began to clench tight ... the hand is withdrawn, leaving him aching and throbbing against the inside of his robes. As his brows furrow and his snarl widens, he can't help but shudder at the feel of his lover's tongue caressing over his bared fangs. Would that he could feel it against more needy places in that moment... "Oh, how you test me, Enver ... but so be it." His words are airy and breathless, as he strains to remain composed. His draconic snout dips down to lash his own azure-tipped tongue against the side of the man's neck, tracing the line of his pulse before withdrawing and standing back to his full height. There's no mistaking the straining bulge against the groin of his robes, a spot of dampness already having soaked through the material and leaving a darkened area upon the fabric. His nostrils flare as he turns to go retrieve his dagger from its place in the center of the painting, regarding the other Chosen from over his shoulder for a moment as he seductively pauses to lick away some of the already-congealing blood from the flat of the blade before sheathing it at the small of his back. "Til tomorrow, then, little Baneling." With a retreating flick of his bladed tail, the dragonborn stalks out of the room, footfalls growing quieter down the hall. -- The Temple of Bhaal is awash with fresh blood, in the time that transpires between the shifting cycle of day and night. With no other outlet for his frustrations that he can truly enjoy, Raddox settles for brutalizing his ever-dutiful butler again and again over the span of the day until night returns anew. How very fortuitous for Scleritas that death has no true permanence, that he can enjoy his master's foul ministrations over and over until he tires of the deed. But now that the sun has sunk below the horizon, he has an appointment to keep. He feigns civility and poise well enough as he walks the halls of his lover's keep, guards doing their best to avoid eye contact with the ebon serpent as he prowls past. They know the unfettered danger that walks among them--a wolf traversing through the flock of sheep, mercifully choosing for the present moment not to cull their numbers. No ... not this time. Raddox's focus is entirely elsewhere. Before long, his steps carry him to the door of a familiar office and he raps his scaled knuckles against the door in a distinct pattern. He would know, then, who approaches.

[bhaalspawned-dragoness]

🍉 Gharja

🥝 Raddox, renka

NSFW Character Trait Meme 🍉 What’s your character’s favorite kink? Gharja very much has an oral fixation. Licking, nipping, and (gently, of course) love bites are all to be very much expected from her ... ALL over your body. 🥝 Your character’s most private sexual fantasy? For all of Raddox's violent tendencies (and Bhaal's ever-present demands roaring in the back of his mind), his most secret desire is true romantic intimacy. Tantric sex, sensual and slow, drawing out the anticipation and feeling loved and safe in equal measure. He regards these desires as more heinous than any of his depraved sins, for it demonstrates only one clear thing to him--weakness. And that simply won't do. So it would take a great deal of bonding and trust to ever get him to open up about something so vulnerable and shameful. Renka, on the other hand, is refreshingly simple and straight-forward (if a tad bit on the kinkier side of things). She's very much into sensory deprivation, blindfolds especially. Not being able to predict where a provocative touch will come from or when increases her sensitivity tenfold. Interestingly enough, it was purchasing the company of a certain pair of drow that helped her realize she had this particular interest in the first place.

[bhaalspawned-dragoness]

Obsidian scales glimmer in flickering candlelight ... crimson eyes smolder with predatory intent ... and a single claw beckons.

Happy Sinday! Because he's my favorite right now, you get to enjoy some naughty pinup-style eye candy of my wicked lil' dragon boi, Raddox. Go ahead, he won't bite ... much. Default Version Precum Version Cum Version Bloody Version Precum & Blood Version Cum & Blood Version

[kuzcosources]

seggsual tension!

never too early/late for some sinday stuff! add '+' for the reverse! assume all of these are done with consent!

[smolder] - Sender stares at receiver from across the room.

[pin] - Sender and receiver are caught in a small space, causing their bodies to be close together.

[position] - Sender catches receiver in a compromising position.

[heat] - It's hot, and sender/receiver notices how the other's clothes are sticking in all the right places.

[cold] - It's cold, and sender/receiver have to stay together for warmth.

[bed] - Sender and receiver have to share a bed.

[towel] - Sender catches receiver in nothing but a towel.

[squeeze] - Sender and receiver have to hold hands.

[moan] - Sender accidentally / on purpose moans suggestively.

[wound] - Sender has to patch up receiver's wound.

[dance] - Sender and receiver have to dance together.

[whisper] - Sender whispers in receiver's ear.

[bath] - Sender catches receiver bathing.

[food] - Sender watches receiver eating something in a particular manner.

[sleeves] - Sender sees receiver roll up their sleeves.

[button] - Sender sees receiver's shirt unbuttoned.

[zip] - Sender helps receiver zip/unzip their dress.

[grope] - Sender accidentally (on purpose) gropes receiver.

[stretch] - Sender watches receiver stretch, showing a bit of skin.

[scent] - Sender gets a smell of receiver's cologne/perfume.

[tmnt-brave-new-world]

Sinday Sunday ask!!

NSFW Character Trait Meme

🍏 Preference for top or bottom/Submissive or dominant.

🍎 Favorite type, looks and personality wise? Please specify the trait.

🍐 Get up and shower after or bask in the afterglow all sticky and wet?

🍊 Monogamous? Open relationship? Polyamorous?

🍋 Deep and slow? Hard and fast? What’s your character’s preference?

🍌 Favorite sex position? Or name one and my muse will give their thoughts.

🍉 What’s your character’s favorite kink?

🍇 How active in bed is your character? Do they like to lie there and take it or do they like to get the most bang for their buck?

🍓 Kissing during sex, yes or no?

🫐 Clothes off or on during sex?

🍈 Lingerie? Yes or no? Or specify the lingerie piece.

🍒 Would your character join a threesome if given a chance?

🍑 Your character’s Penis size?

🥭 Preference for body part? Name the body part.

🍍 Does your character like to roleplay? If so, what? Or suggest a role play and my muse will weight in on if they would participate.

🥥 Does your character prefer condoms or bareback?

🥝 Your character’s most private sexual fantasy? Or describe yours and my muse will weight in on if they would participate.

🍭 How sexually active is your character?

🧁 When did your character lose their virginity?

🍦 Kinks your character would participate in? Name the kink.

🍬 Kinks your character would not participate in? Name the kink.

Source: arthurpenrose

Revamped by Cats_eye_galaxy

[bhaalspawned-dragoness]

There's an artistry to each slice, carved with purpose, across tender flesh ... the gout of crimson arcing through the air before splashing across whatever surface was nearby, creating a spectacular speckled collage. Breathtaking. And yet ... something was missing. Something ... more whimsical. Like a master artisan signing his work, Raddox's taloned fingertip draws a simple little smiley face against the aged mahogany desk. The maker's mark of this exquisite slaughter. A deep chuckle that lay somewhere between genuine mirth and a predatory growl resonates from deep within the dragonborn's chest, tail slithering up the back of Enver's thigh in a teasing caress. "One must find joy in their work, dear ... lest it devolve into drudgery." At the mentioned prospect of more harvesting, a wicked gleam comes over Raddox's crimson eyes as his reptilian pupils shrink to even thinner slits. "Mmm. It simply wouldn't do, leaving such lovely work unfinished..." An azure-tipped tongue slips past dagger sharp teeth to lick away a stray spatter of blood from his scaled lip, ravenous for more. With a low rattling hiss, the dragonborn disentangles himself from Enver to begin prowling down the next adjacent hallway, blood-drenched blade grasped tight in his clawed fist. The hunger for fresh screams and even fresher meat coils tight in the pit of his gut. More gifts for Father ... tender morsels offered up upon the altar of final days, one delectable bite at a time. A pity he must sate the Murder Lord piecemeal like this, but alas ... proper planning required patience and a modicum of restraint. "No doubt some have scurried into hiding places like vermin by now. No matter ... it adds spice to the pursuit."

[fatewoven]

The opportunity willingly given, welcomed as his neck tilts, a serpent constricts him with bared fangs, the taunt-tease of danger delightful as it sings in his veins. Enver huffs, eyes full of cheer despite the cooling corpse slumped over the table, and his gore-free hand taps at his companion's chest — gold claws digging into scales, the solid corded breadth of muscle belonging to a marvel crafted to be a slaughter. "Go on then. Have your fill." Gentle encouragement, a command in his smile, and it's with contentment he observes Raddox stalk off, graceful as any reaper.

As the walls echo the sounds of murder, the distinct death rattle that's a unique signature of Bhaal's Chosen, he busies himself in the office by sorting documents by what's worthwhile. Blackmail in the form of sordid letters, trade agreements, and other minutiae that could be leveraged against the other patriars. Satisfied, side-stepping the growing mess of congealing blood spreading across the imported carpet while humming a dainty little tune, he sits on the leather armchair and leafs through an account of dragons and their behavior in far-off lands. Words are the least of this author's talents, but skimming through the book gives ample time for Raddox to finish his work.

It's when he hears a familiar claw-footed gait click against the wooden floors Enver looks up, palm already extending. "Come here, darling." As in: sit, heel. Good boy. And as he observes the sheen of blood drip off those midnight scales, it's made abundantly clear no writer could capture the effervescent beauty of such macabre sights. Gore and viscera worn as a mantle, his dragon proves, as ever, a delight to behold as he approaches, confident and powerful. "Did you make your Father proud? Certainly, you must feel my approval now," he intones, voice low and cradled in shadows. The open hand curves, scented of vellum and heady cologne, fingers running across the ridges of imposing horns.

[bhaalspawned-dragoness]

Each swing of his blade is rewarded with the sweet melody of death, like plucking the strings of a lute to make exquisite music. Ah, but slaughter was the Chosen's instrument of choice ... and his proficiency with it could make a bard weep for its perverse beauty. When the fire in his blood is finally quenched by that final gout of gore, there is a moment of peace ... quiet. The fervid demands of his bloodthirsty patriarch go silent and for a time, there is a reprieve. Still ... the sharp metallic scent of butchered meat kindles a new flame within his veins. A fresh need manifests and he instinctively knows where to go to see it sated. Picking out Enver's scent amid the carnage is a simple affair. It's burned into his subconscious, as permanent as a brand, and he seeks it like a moth pursues the flame. Raddox appears in the doorframe, his draconic shadow looming large as he regards the Chosen of Bane with hungry eyes. Mid-stride he deftly flicks the blade to his left, the weapon arcing elegantly through the air for a brief moment before thudding deep into a painting upon the far wall. Some sort of idyllic landscape captured in the peak of summer sunshine, now flecked in fresh crimson as the thrown blade pierces the canvas. "Father is appeased by this bountiful harvest, yes ... for now." The dragonborn all but purrs his response in a low rumbling murmur, stooping over Enver's seat as each clawed hand came to rest upon the armrests. A pleased growl reverberates through him at the touch of his lover's hand upon the chitinous crown of those regal horns. Every muscle stood taunt as a fully-drawn bowstring, tension straining through him from snout to tail tip even as his outward body language seemed relaxed. A coiled serpent hungry to strike. "Indeed ... I feel it, fire of my heart. Perhaps you'd care to feel mine, in return, mm...?" An invitation. Crimson eyes are half-lidded but still keenly focused on the fixation of his desires. This man, here before him ... his salvation and his ruin ... poison and panacea all at once.

[bhaalspawned-dragoness]

From the very first moment Raddox had laid eyes upon the Chosen of Bane deep in the bowels of Moonrise Towers, something ceaselessly gnawed at the draconic man's fractured mind. Where everything else around him save for violence and gore was numb, this mysterious human was causing something within him to stir. The longer Raddox thought of his face, the more voraciously the headaches would return. He'd learned enough to know by now that only two things roused the aching in his skull--defying his nature ... and connections to his lost memories. This 'Enver Gortash' knew something. He had seen it in his eyes from the moment their gazes had met during the coronation. That recognition was palpable. Taking the rest of the Netherstones for his own would have to wait. Like a wolf circling a herd of sheep, Raddox waited for his opportunity to get the Chosen of Bane alone, never letting his crimson eyes fall from the man as he maneuvered through the crowd and chit-chatted away with unknown face after unknown face. None of them were of any consequence. He would gladly carve through them like a scythe through the grass if it would speed him towards getting his prey alone. His blood yearned for it, boiling with the pent-up urge to rend flesh and shatter bone... Ah, but such pleasantries would have to wait. Now was not the time to make a mess, however gratifying it might be. A more subtle approach was required. And so the sorcerer situated himself by the refreshments table, helping himself to a goblet of wine as he remained satisfied with observing his quarry from a distance. @fatewoven

[fatewoven]

The streets of Baldur's Gate never darken, not anymore since his rise to Lordship, and yet something still circles in the shadows. It stalks, lurking at the fringes of his perception; on any other night Enver would be amused, perhaps irritated about cleaning up after yet another failed assassination attempt on him, but this one is different. Special. Nevertheless, instead of cutting the delightful chase off far too soon for either of them, he ambles about, cane accompanying a confident gait through the crowd of patriarchs and merchants as they celebrate the autumn equinox — leisurely conversing with each one about mundane affairs that make a city run smooth. Taxes and fees and imported goods.

His smile grows pointed, sharp and satisfied when an unmistakable growl rumbles from somewhere, blending with the music as the drunken crowd ignores the noise.

It's here a smooth-tongued excuse lets him slip away, meandering through the grounds until he stops in a secluded garden. The modest fountain burbles, offering an ever-rippling reflection of their surroundings, and Enver continues to stare ahead even as he sees two infernal eyes in the water. "You were never one for festivities. Too much empty, frivolous talk when cut tongues provided far better entertainment." Murmured softly, audible over the fountain's steady trickle, Enver turns, head canted and expression amicable when most would be cowering in fear.

"If you desire a private discussion, you could've simply asked, dear."

[bhaalspawned-dragoness]

And just like that, the dragonborn's patience is rewarded, as his fixation for the night brings himself right to him. At this closer proximity, something stirs--something that gnaws at the back of his parasite-ridden mind that feels ... intrusive. Like long-forgotten instincts trying to take over. This man is an enemy. One of the enemies standing between him and the destruction of the Absolute. This should make things simple. After all, Raddox has always been swift and decisive when dealing with his foes. No hesitation ... no mercy. But this man is in possession of more than just a Netherstone. The throbbing in his skull the longer he stands in the Archduke's presence is enough to assure him that this man holds the key to finally piercing the shadowed void of his lost memories. And indeed, the comfortable familiarity with which he addresses him only further confirms these suspicions. An unfriendly smile (or the closest such thing a draconic creature like himself can replicate) pulled at his scaled lips, baring the points of reptilian teeth as he took a slow sip of wine from his goblet. After a small pause, Raddox spoke in a slow measured tone. "How very advantageous that would be for you, no doubt. But if it is all the same to you ... I prefer a more public locale. For both our sakes." Indeed, neither could act upon the other without drawing unwanted attention to themselves, making this throng of soft fleshy bodies more effective than even the most well-crafted pieces of armor. At least until he got the full measure of this man and what (if anything) he could offer. "You regard me with the gaze of someone looking into familiar eyes, Enver Gortash ... part with what you know, and perhaps a more mutually beneficial arrangement between us might be reached. Provided you speak truthfully."

[fatewoven]

" — A mad dog understands the yank of the leash and the hand of its master, but it cannot be an equal. "

                             Selective, Low Maintenance multi-muse featuring                                      Enver Gortash from Baldur's Gate 3.                           Mature themes present, please read rules and pinned.

[bhaalspawned-dragoness]

From the moment he had first awakened upon the bizarre-looking ship that was more creature than vessel ... Raddox's mind sat achingly hollow, bereft of all but a name and a certainty that it was his. Beyond that? There was only darkness. Confusion. Anger. Someone was responsible for this sorry state he now found himself in, he was sure of it ... and he would discover who. Until then, he had set himself to the task of getting free of the mindflayer ship, lest all his plans of revenge never come to fruition. Along the way he had crossed paths with a githyanki woman--Lae'zel, she called herself. A prickly disposition, harsh-tongued ... but brutally efficient. She would serve his purposes well. Especially if her words of knowing a means by which to be rid of the parasites were true. Time would tell. "This ... 'creche' you speak of. Why would your kin be inclined to offer such delicate aid to those not of their own ilk? I cannot say I am all that well-versed in the lore of your people, but I recall enough to know that they are not precisely the warm and welcoming sort to outsiders." Lae'zel's gaze remained fixed upon guardedly eying her surroundings, as though ever on alert for a possible ambush. "You travel in my company and have earned my approval. It is enough. Removing the danger posed by the ghaik is of greater importance in this scenario. Under any other set of circumstances ... you would be carved into quarters before ever setting a single talon anywhere near a githyanki creche. Count yourself as fortunate." And then, in an instant, her vibrant intense gaze was locked ahead of them, weapon drawn. "Ahead!" Just as the dragonborn was about to conjure flames into his palm, preparing for confrontation ... the drow spoke. More survivors, it seemed. Ah, and then he recognized her ... the woman from the pod. Lae'zel had urged Raddox to abandon her to her fate, and in the moment, her logic had seemed sound. After all, there was no telling when and where they might be recaptured before they could successfully escape the vessel. Getting themselves caught risking their necks for a stranger was impractical. And so they had carried on. And here she now stood before him. Apparently, this drow woman that now accompanied her had felt differently. How fortuitous for them both. A sly smile curled the edges of his max as he gestured to the gith to stay her hand, stepping forward towards the pair just a step or two. "So it seems. I confess, I was unsure at first if any apart from myself had survived the crash. But after reuniting with my dearest friend, here, I suppose I should not have been so quick to assume." Slitted pupils flicked towards the half-elf, that same mirthless smile still upon his scaled lips. "And I am so very relieved to see you were able to be rescued after all."

[urgecfmurder]

Turning to Shadowheart her eyebrow raised, curious that she apparently knew this person. Shaodwheart in turn was not too pleased to see him, or the gith. Scowling openly at the two of them Vorlue was unsure how to really feel about all of this having not truly known either of these people before this moment. Though the confusion was nearly second nature now. While she questioned why parts of her memory were completely gone she had a feeling it wasn't too unlike her, possibly. Who was to say

Lost in thought or what little of ones she had, Shadowheart would take it upon herself to address them, " Are you now? From what I recall you left me there to die or be turned in favor of the Gith. " Venom dripped from her words as she all but spat them out at the two. Clearly unhappy that she was abandoned by them. " Don't think I will forget that so easily. "

It was at the mention that Shadowheart was abandoned did Vorlue snap back into the conversation. " You abandoned her? " Came a surprised gasp, " You just-- left her? Those things make mind flayers you know! You're lucky she didn't transform or else you'd both be dead. . but it looks like we all made it out. Anyway. Always a fool to abandon possible allies. Even us drow know that. Best to be owed a favor then fester malice. "

Shadowheart nodded in agreement to Vorlue's statement but still a tad displeased with how quickly she was brushing aside her own abandonment. " Now if you'll excuse us we're going to be finding a cure for these parasites. Best stay out of our way. " Vorlue on the other hand looked a tad displeased, " Shadowheart, come on, we need more allies. If they also have worms we need to be sensible--" " Sensible?! " She'd shout, " They left me to die, or worse! How can we trust them to not slit out throats while we sleep if they're so willing to abandon a potential ally? "

Groaning a bit, Vorlue would lazily look over the two of them. " Listen. I don't know what this-- " Motioning between Shadowheart and Raddox and Lae'zel, " Is. But we're all infected with these squirmy worms. Can we at least find a cure before we tear each other apart? Once we're free from the tadpole we can rip each other to shreds, sound good? "

[bhaalspawned-dragoness]

The gith's eyes rolled at Shadowheart's outburst before turning her attention to Vorlue. "You speak with sense, drow. All of this squabbling wastes precious time. The longer we dawdle, the faster we speed towards our doom." Raddox was quick to move to Lae'zel's side. "Precisely. It's so very easy to judge with the advantage of hindsight, so let us not muddy the waters with such trifles, mm? Besides ... Lae'zel, here, comes bearing the solution to all our woes. Her people possess the means to treat our unique little 'condition'." Slick as a serpent, the dragonborn moved past the githyanki and passed between drow and half-elf before positioning himself behind them both and resting the palm of a taloned hand upon each of their shoulders, claws gripping surely but lightly against their armor. "It's all rather simple, really. We just need to tolerate one another's presence just long enough to get this resolved. Surely we can manage that, no...?"

[urgecfmurder]

@tales-of-faerun

What a strange day it had been. Having woken up with little memory upon a weird looking ship. Rescuing a woman from a pod by ripping it open, and then being thrown off said strange ship and nearly crashing to the ground to her death?

Not to mention the tadpole thing-ys. Vorlue didn't know what to make heads or tails? Worms? Heads or worms? Oh this only made her head hurt worse. Continuing trudging along, holding her greataxe ready to swing at any moderate threat to her or her companion.

Shadowheart didn't exactly look too pleased either, pipping up and pointing out two people ahead of them. A gith, and a--- dragonborn of some kind. Vorlue would ready herself for a fight as they approached. Despite this she looked--- tired. Exhausted even with everything that's happened this one day.

" You. You were on the ship. Explain what's going on! " Vorlue would shout, very aggressively to the dragonborn and gith, Shadowheart looking a bit, dejected clearly not too happy that Vorlue decided to just scream their location out to possible enemies.

[bhaalspawned-dragoness]

From the moment he had first awakened upon the bizarre-looking ship that was more creature than vessel ... Raddox's mind sat achingly hollow, bereft of all but a name and a certainty that it was his. Beyond that? There was only darkness. Confusion. Anger. Someone was responsible for this sorry state he now found himself in, he was sure of it ... and he would discover who. Until then, he had set himself to the task of getting free of the mindflayer ship, lest all his plans of revenge never come to fruition. Along the way he had crossed paths with a githyanki woman--Lae'zel, she called herself. A prickly disposition, harsh-tongued ... but brutally efficient. She would serve his purposes well. Especially if her words of knowing a means by which to be rid of the parasites were true. Time would tell. "This ... 'creche' you speak of. Why would your kin be inclined to offer such delicate aid to those not of their own ilk? I cannot say I am all that well-versed in the lore of your people, but I recall enough to know that they are not precisely the warm and welcoming sort to outsiders." Lae'zel's gaze remained fixed upon guardedly eying her surroundings, as though ever on alert for a possible ambush. "You travel in my company and have earned my approval. It is enough. Removing the danger posed by the ghaik is of greater importance in this scenario. Under any other set of circumstances ... you would be carved into quarters before ever setting a single talon anywhere near a githyanki creche. Count yourself as fortunate." And then, in an instant, her vibrant intense gaze was locked ahead of them, weapon drawn. "Ahead!" Just as the dragonborn was about to conjure flames into his palm, preparing for confrontation ... the drow spoke. More survivors, it seemed. Ah, and then he recognized her ... the woman from the pod. Lae'zel had urged Raddox to abandon her to her fate, and in the moment, her logic had seemed sound. After all, there was no telling when and where they might be recaptured before they could successfully escape the vessel. Getting themselves caught risking their necks for a stranger was impractical. And so they had carried on. And here she now stood before him. Apparently, this drow woman that now accompanied her had felt differently. How fortuitous for them both. A sly smile curled the edges of his max as he gestured to the gith to stay her hand, stepping forward towards the pair just a step or two. "So it seems. I confess, I was unsure at first if any apart from myself had survived the crash. But after reuniting with my dearest friend, here, I suppose I should not have been so quick to assume." Slitted pupils flicked towards the half-elf, that same mirthless smile still upon his scaled lips. "And I am so very relieved to see you were able to be rescued after all."

[bhaalspawned-dragoness]

Continued from here! --

The creature's muzzle wrinkles and brows crease in a visible scowl. "I know this might be difficult for you to grasp, considering my appearance ... but I'm not, in fact, a fucking golden retriever." All of the snark is merely for show, of course. She can't help but indulge in the hollow satisfaction of cheeking him rather than just mindlessly bowing to his every whim without question. It was the closest thing to freedom she could relish, after all. In the end, though ... she knew she would relent regardless of her glib tongue, as she was compelled to. As her contract bid her to. "....Where, exactly, am I supposed to find this precious bottle of yours?" @raphaeni

[raphaeni-deactivated20260325]

"And I would never insult you so. I do not look down on you so as to compare you to a dog..." He holds his hands out in the air, assuring his little pact keeper, attempting to appease them with gentle reassurance.

"This bottle in question was sold to a mortal man, a thief came and stole it from him. It's now headed down route to be placed on a ship, and shipped out to Amn, or some other blasted country. Now, I don't know much about the thieves guild--" A lie. He knew plenty. A lot of wonderful thieves got their start at his doorstep.

"But I do know they are rather unwilling to let things go. Ah, but the worst and wonderful thing of this is they don't know how much this bottle is worth. They know it only has worth to the mortal man. So they wish to ransom his money."

"I would say you can pose the part as his negotiator... long enough to get the bottle back."

[bhaalspawned-dragoness]

Gharja gives a low snort as more compliments and flattery fall from the cambion's lips. Pretty words meant to soothe and pacify, as devils were so want to do. Still ... she would play the game, for the moment. "Hmmph. A bit more complex, then, than a game of fetch. You must think highly of me, then, to entrust me with a task of this nature. I'm almost flattered." Her arms crossed over her chest. "A bit of subterfuge, bit of violence ... I like it. And where might I meet with these representatives of the guild?"