Click here for the Intro/Masterlist (As well as all tags regarding content advisory)
1492 DR
Ever since waking up on the nautaloid, the tiefling has had a dreadful headache. Of course, being infected with a mindflayer tadpole, there are always more pressing matters for Sol to focus on. But in the quiet hours, after most of the party had gone to bed, the pounding of her brain couldn't be ignored. With the soft crackle of the campfire, however, Solanine can't help but look over the tumultuous past few days.
Shadowheart is beginning to trust her. After all, Solanine did save the woman's life. But how much of that was tactical advantage compared to true concern, the bard isn't so sure. Similarly to when the wizard was stuck in the sigil, the desire to tear through his skin and feel the muscles shred between her teeth was intoxicating. But did the Urge fade through logic, or simply because she wasn't alone at that moment? The continuous thought of turning her companions into pretty little corpses keeps her smiling. All it would take is a slip in her attention to turn these fantasies into reality.
Being patient and considerate towards them came as a second nature. But not from genuine care. Instead, the web of lies she's woven comes through instinct. All to cover over the death that had spread from her hands when the others weren't looking.
Nina only felt her blood pumping when she was mutilating the brain creature on the ship. The same joy filled her when the druid's snake bit the young girl because of Sol's hints to the child. Even more pleasure came when she got the blood of that secluded tiefling guard that lost function of her legs.
While she's thankful to have found allies to aid her in her quest for a cure, there is a certain level of… disdain for them. They all know how they got here, who they were. Solanine knows the most painful places to stab someone and that her jaw has enough strength to easily break bone. The instincts remain, but the memory behind them - empty.
By the Gods, a literal devil recognized who she is. Why? And when Raphael complimented the work she had no recollection of, the woman felt… pride?
"I'm so glad I found you!"
The voice catches the woman by surprise. Solanine finds herself standing, dagger against the intruder's neck, before she has any time to process. More instincts without any knowledge behind them. "Wait, it's me! It's Alfira, from the grove!"
Realizing the woman before, the bard-rogue immediately sheaths her blade with a heavy sigh. "Oh, by the gods, Alfira! I didn't hurt you, did I?."
"No, no, I'm fine," Alfira reassures the other tiefling. Or maybe herself. "I'm sorry for barging in like this, I didn't mean to frighten you. I just had to come find you."
Gale, who has been sitting a few feet over, shakes his head with a smile. "We've learned not to appear behind Sol when she's contemplating, lest we run the risk of wasting precious healing resources. A true testament to her precision that she hasn't killed any of us yet."
Solanine rolls her eyes at the wizard's dramatics. Her eyes linger on his hand as he talks, regretting her past decision once again. "I've been on edge, that's all. Hard to control your habits when you don't know you have them."
Alfira, enjoying the banter between the two, joins back in, "Oh, so you're as skilled in fighting as in performance? I really picked the right person."
"Sorry? Why is it that you came all the way out here?" The fear fading from the other bard's face leaves Solanine wanting.
The newcomer nods, inviting herself to sit next to the fire. "You see, you've inspired me. I would like to prove that I can be half the bard as Lihala was… like you are. And, as you did for me, I want to go and help others."
"I didn't do much," the assassin responds, "You put in the work for your tribute to your teacher. You only needed to see it in yourself." Truthfully, Solanine only gave a couple of ideas on the rhyme scheme while they played together. Nothing that Alfira couldn't have accomplished herself in time.
But the naive woman refuses, taking her hand. "I had lost confidence, but you reminded me of it. It may have been minuscule to you, but you really saved me there."
That word. Save. Just hearing it makes Nina feel nauseous. She is a savior to no one. All is ash and meat, just flesh waiting to be slaughtered. Solanine pauses. These thoughts had only gotten worse in the past few days. The bard had noticed that the Urge softens after a kill, but it had been a few days since she listened to her heart's desire. And the stranger's skin looks so soft. Surely there will be no resistance on her blade when-
"I want to join you - to fight by your side. I want to help people, like you do."
Sol looks at her pure eyes and hesitantly asks, "Are you sure? We seem to run into danger wherever we go. I can't promise your safety."
Alfira shakes her head, a hint of desperation in her voice. "I've been running since Elturel - and when we finally arrived in the grove, we found danger there too. Unless I hide away from the world, I can't avoid it. So I'd rather face it head on… with you."
"If you're really set on this, I'm sure we'd love to have you come along." The words slip smoothly out of her lips with a smile, hiding the swell of bloodlust. She'd truly be greeted into the world of misery and pain. "We'll have to talk to the rest of the group when they are awake, of course. They may have more to say than the two of us."
Alfira smiles brightly at the initial acceptance, looking at two of the friendliest faces in camp. Gale simply nods along, and Sol gives a grin in response. Seems she's not the only one who doesn't want to speak up about their parasite issue. More chaos in store, the tiefling is sure. "Oh, thank you - thank you so much! Where will we go? Can we go to Waterdeep?"
Solanine's party member chuckles, looking up from the book that has been capturing most of the wizard's attention. "I'm afraid that's not quite in store for us right now. But maybe if all goes well, I'll give you all a grand tour of my hometown."
"Heh, sorry… I'm getting ahead of myself." The woman replies sheepishly, gently scratching her head. "Let's take it one note at a time, as my teacher would say. I don't even know if everyone will agree to have me stay."
Something about Alfira being in the camp has made the air lighten up. Seems that two bards are strong enough to turn the tides of a camp worried for mortality. "Would you like to play some music together until your nerves settle? We'll regale Gale in song until he drifts off."
The other tiefling seems to like the idea, as well as the woman's wordplay, as she scrambles to her lute. Solanine, now with Lihala's instrument, begins to pluck out a gentle melody for Alfira to pick up. They can build harmonies and lyrics in time. Somehow, this craft calms the amnesiac. The comfort of the tides of a tune. It could also be that she uses the lute of a woman who died a horrible death.
Either way, it's relaxing. A calm and enjoyable evening, where songs were played into the night, and they'd occasionally snack on the leftovers from their dinner. Gale truly was a delightful cook, even if Sol's mouth waters for a different meat at times. She's not sure what would ease her hunger. But the lighthearted nature of their time helps to distract her from it. It's even enough to bring her to crave her bedroll. Terrible brain worms and her survival are unable to keep her up.
With a polite goodnight, Solanine leaves her new companion to continue strumming in all her excitement, taking to her tent. They'd need to buy one for Alfira next time they were in the grove. It's a passing thought, one that could be in mind to either gain trust or simply of consideration. But the deliberation on her motive fades with her consciousness.
~~~~~~
There's warmth. Sweet, sticky warmth. It coats Sol, giving her cold form a sense of comfort. She smiles before realizing that she isn't still in her dream. Her sleep had been pleasant, though she couldn't quite recall what story her mind told her. Solanine opens her eyes, regaining feeling through the rest of her body.
She isn't lying down, not even in her tent. And her whole body aches dreadfully. Trying to recollect her steps, Sol glances down, only to be greeted by the nearly unrecognizable body of the young tiefling bard. Alfira lies lifeless, her guts sprawled onto the ground, soaking blood into the soil.
Using the logical side of the woman's mind, she knows that she needs to dispose of the body and clean the area. Her hands, under inspection, are thickly coated in her life; that needs to be dealt with as well. But before she can move, the bard-rogue is entranced by her handiwork. The way every one of the dozens of slices and stabs is carefully displayed. How long did this beauty take her? It couldn't have been long, judging by the moon. But if not, what could Sol be capable of without the subconscious worry of being caught?
The tiefling catches herself giggling, standing in awe of this work of art. But this needs to be something for her to remember alone. And she doesn't have the time to wait around. Kneeling in front of the body, Solanine begins mending the skin to hold her intestines once more. Seems like defacing hallowed ground, but there is little alternative. Other than admitting murder to the group in the morning. No, she needs their trust. There hasn't been the slightest concern over her - it needs to stay that way.
Hiding the body seemed to be easy, almost like it was an impulse. It is strange how familiar every fiber of her body seems to be. Truly, who is she? What has her life been before this? Even the magic used to clean the blood from the sand, and from her own clothes - something, mind, she had never learned to her memory - simply came to be.
As for the alibi. She had been asleep, even before Gale did. Besides, the newcomer probably got cold feet waiting for the rest of the team's approval. It's easy to paint how nervous Alfira was before going to sleep. Simply left before facing rejection from the others. Sol doesn't need some big reason, just vague ideas that connect to the only other witness. It will be perfect.
Solanine lies back down. Even though she feels the pain all through her right arm, the woman also feels far more comfortable in the aftermath of this bloodshed. The sweet treat that no one will get to share with her. Sol closes her eyes once more, finally feeling stuffed and with a surge of joy that far surpasses any enjoyment so far. The only thing she craves is the feeling of blood on her once more.
Introduction
Chapter 1 (Chapter 2 begins only hours after this chapter)
1477 DR
Gortash enters the candlelit room, rolling out the stress on his shoulders. The gala had been a critical success, precisely as he had calculated. This was essential to achieve the next step of his ambition. What wasn't planned, however, was the musician leaving an indelible impression on him.
And it isn't the expertise of her craft. Nor her cadence and the way she conversed with him. Hells, it wasn't for her appearance: her smile, clothes, or jewelry. While Solanine may be alluring and well-trained for this life, those attributes are commonplace in the circles he finds himself in. It was her glare. Witnessing her beautiful, pure eyes display that much hatred and malevolence was fascinating. Just her touch made the hairs on his neck stand on end.
She made Gortash feel he was in danger; he was not the only person with a lethal calling. The human had figured that dedicating the rest of the night after the event to the needs of his followers and the wishes of Bane would put the thought of the bard out of Gortash's mind. But here he is, drawing up a bath with one simple question on his mind- just who is this tiefling?
Stepping out of his garments, the tyrant settles into the soak with a deep exhale. She declared that they'd meet again. And, with the reception of her music by the attendants, he doesn't doubt that he'd see Solanine again in the next few months.
But it is already twilight, and he has much more work to complete tonight. With an inhale, the human shuts his eyes and submerges under the water. The young man slowly releases his breath, sinking to the bottom of the tub. It isn't until his lungs start aching that Enver resurfaces from underwater. The artificer wipes the water from his face, opening his eyes to pitch darkness. Instantly, Gortash begins processing what has happened. No windows were left open, and there are too many candles to have been blown out by a draft. The human tries to stop and listen, being greeted with an unpolluted silence. The only oddity he notices is a smell he can't quite identify. Still, his instinct screams that he is in danger.
Not one to panic amid a threat, Enver tucks his legs underneath him, extending his reach to search for his clothes. Or rather, the lighting device he always keeps in his pants pocket. However, he undressed too far away for him to grab it. But during his struggle, the smell becomes more distinct, more… metallic.
"I have a gift for you." The voice from within the bath causes the tyrant to freeze. He resists the urge to flinch as the woman's blood-drenched fingers glide down his cheek. Not wanting more of the sanguine liquid smeared on him, the man takes her hand and places it into the water. When he does, the stranger's magic slips, revealing the glow of her flaming irises. They are familiar to him, containing the perfect combination of purity and malice. It's her.
"And what might that be?"
The response isn't immediate. Instead, Enver feels the water being disturbed. He can sense when Solanine leans towards him and quickly grips her other hand when she places it on his shoulder. But, even still, the tiefling easily reaches the Banite's ear. "Don't spoil the surprise, you varlet. I set it on display for you."
Gortash's jaw clenches as he braces for whatever she has prepared for him. It's a comforting thought, how easy it would be to drown her in the water, dispose of the body and whatever this present is, and go to sleep without a second thought. For the time being, he'll play along with her little game. "Then don't dawdle. Show me."
His vision is starting to adjust to the darkness, but it isn't enough to view anything. And the knowledge that she can see him puts him at a harsh disadvantage. When Solanine slips her fingers away from his, the man allows her. She utters an incantation, lighting every candle simultaneously. A magic user, duly noted. But Gortash turns his attention away from the unseemly woman- even though her stained body gives him an impression of what to expect.
It is certainly a presentation; she was truthful. It's his rival, Ellisar. Parts of him, rather, are placed upon a crimson cloth; he's unsure if the fabric is naturally that hue. The decapitated head is looking toward him, with his brain removed and arranged to the right on the material. His heart is on the left, and both hands lay palms up, akin to an oblation.
As his mind adapts to the gruesome show before him, he leaves enough of an opening for the tiefling to approach, wrapping her arms around him and laying her head on his chest. It's strange; despite being in the warmth of the bath, Enver can still note the coldness of her skin. Not willing to let her be comforted by his shock, he grabs Solanine's nude, bloodied shoulders, pushing her away from him. "Why would you do something like this?" His voice is as cruel as his eyes are darkened.
Her expression falls, now almost bashful as she responds, "Did I upset you, Enver? Does it trouble you that I killed him? How I give him to you as an offering for your favor? I saw the calculation when you looked at him, even up on my stage. It's what brought me to you two. Your cold, vindictive gaze- resembling my own. I knew you wanted him dead. And I am, naturally, a servant to the desires of my audience." She traces shapes all along his held hand, seemingly like she wants to make him happy. Gortash almost believes it if her eyes didn't betray such murderous intent. "But maybe you wanted to end him yourself. Apparently, the rumors are true; no one hates to lose control as much as a Banite."
His blood rushes as the name of his god passes his lips. She is a liability, her knowledge is dangerous. And those blasphemous words carry the order of her execution. He'd silence her cheerful voice once evermore. Gortash lunges for the woman, but she is a step faster. As his muscles tighten to grip her, Solanine pulls out a piece of iron embedded in her skin. The casting is lightning fast causing Gortash's movement to immediately suspend in response.
The innocence in her eyes remains unaltered, now trailing the same shapes on his paralyzed neck. "Or are you so distressed because in the back of your mind, you understood: the servant of Bane was beaten by the child of Bhaal?"
Her malicious smile again betrays the sincerity of her tone as the pieces fall into place. Despite this compromised position, pure rage radiates from the tyrant. "You're a Bhaalspawn."
"His favorite Bhaalspawn, yes, and leader of his church. The gala originally was a means for me to find my prey. So imagine my astonishment when I met you and all I experienced was the Urge to split your ribs open and watch the light in your eyes disappear. I watched you with morbid curiosity until I had an epiphany. Then my plan changed."
"To steal my kill? Or is it to kill me now while I'm taking a bath?" The acridity in his tone is thick enough to asphyxiate.
He expects her to laugh, to roll her eyes, or taunt him in some demeaning way. But the Bhaalspawn doesn't. Solanine's smile fades into a blank expression as she stares at his throat. The two stay like a picture for a moment, and while her mind seems far away, Enver can feel the weight of her bloodlust only intensify.
Gortash attempts to break free, to escape the binding of her spell. But in this moment, he is powerless against the threat of his own demise. How disgusting.
With a deep inhale, the Bhaalspawn's eyes become alert to her surroundings. Gortash attempts to speak but her hold on him releases before he has the opportunity. The devil chuckles. "Neither, silly man."
The Banite refrains from attacking her when capable. But his attacker sits still, wholly attentive to his movements. Solanine appears to notice his solicitude and, dropping her spell component on the ground, begins to explain. "I want us to ally together and work to bring this disgraceful city to heel. Our dear friend Ellisar is a gift and a gesture of my goodwill."
As she speaks, Enver searches for any hint of deceit. But the woman appears to express her thoughts with the utmost sincerity. "Our churches have a vast history of deeply rooted animosity for one another. Why would the so-called Bhaalist herald wish to join forces with the enemy?"
"I want you to have power. To take this time building connections and control over your subjects. Which is pleasing to your Lord Bane."
The cerulean tiefling talks with such passion that her loyalty to her deity can be nearly forgotten. But Gortash has never been susceptible to being swayed by strokes to his ego. "Solanine, answer the question."
"Bhaal and Bane, yes, has had tense relations for a very long time. But being two thirds of the 'Dead Three', and us as their messengers, it would be in our best interest to keep each other close, raising one another up in the bloody future." A virulent smile spread on the young woman's face at an almost unnatural size. He watches as the child of murder begins to wash the blood off of her, using the supplies he had on a table next to them. "So you, my darling, would continue building your life in higher society, schmoozing and gaining favors from the rich and elite. It is as you already planned. But I can remove any opposition or complication in your rise to power. And any beneficial information found by my following can be yours."
Looking back at the bard, she knowingly displays his soap on the gore that soils her skin. The tyrant sees the mischievous glint in her eyes and realizes how well her ploy to bother him is working. In a step to gain some control in this situation, Gortash seizes the soap from her hands, not yielding when Solanine's peaceful aura snaps into viciousness. And instead, begins to clean her of her filth.
The Banite hums, considering the offer. The idea of wielding this woman, a literal daughter of murder, as a weapon and to serve him as Bhaal did for Bane. It piques his interest. "And what benefits you in this alliance if I'm getting everything I want?"
"Only with offering up lives in my Father's name, with blood running down the street, can by duty be fulfilled. But I wish to cause fear, to have people looking behind them when they walk down the street. And I can do that to an extent with my network of information, and my own connections. But to have your knowledge and influence to sharpen my life and blade. With you by my side, there isn't a soul in Baldur's Gate safe. And as they begin to feel it creeping up their spine, these people will come to you, love. The savior of this terror would inspire hope in people, all while leading them into their own demise."
Gortash takes a few minutes to deliberate. All the while, Solanine obediently sits as he cleans her; only a melody softly passes through her lips during his contemplation. To have a born and bred assassin at his call in exchange for a couple well-timed bribes. It would aid both of them; that much is true.
He opens his mouth to respond, but the tiefling is one step faster, staying his hand on her with his own. "Let me perfectly clear with you, I am not some lesser creature, eager to serve under your boot. Our interests align with this city. And why have an enemy when we can be-"
"…Friends?" He finishes incredulously.
Her fingers curl slightly, embedding her claws into his skin in a malicious reaction. He resists a hiss of air at the discomfort. "Let's not be overly hasty, here. After all, I just learned your name. Let our friendship be pending for the time being, and think of us as colleagues. So while you have the spotlight of power, remember who can hold the blade to any neck in this city- even yours."
While the intimidation act does not amuse him, it does remind Gortash that Solanine has gotten the better of him once today. And he is painfully unaware of her capabilities.
"And Bhaal has approved of this?"
Almost realizing her nails in his wrist, the woman relaxes and allows Gortash to continue with the bath. "I am given a sort of… freedom in my actions, so long as they are for Him. So, if He had an issue with my plan when I created it, there would have been atonement for my sins and we wouldn't be talking currently."
It's curious how quickly she has received a sanction of their alliance. He would need to confer in prayer with Lord Bane before any confirmation could be made. What would her penance look like, anyway? Is it simply extra murders that night, bathing in ritualistic blood, or maybe even a promise to increase the severity of her depraved thoughts? Or, perhaps, they are cruel. Bone-shattering pleas to a merciless god.
"I cannot give you a solidified answer this evening. While the offer you deliver me is appealing, I need my own Lord's backing before I make any final decision. You understand, I'm sure."
Her demeanor has returned to that of the refined woman he met only hours ago, watching his hands as they gingerly rinse off the remaining lather on her skin. Solanine then stands, not caring to conceal her nude body, and going as forward as to graze her tail across his chest. Walking on her toes, murder's daughter silently steps to her twisted gift. "Do you want to keep him? I brought him for you, after all. But if you're only doing to dispose of him, it seems like a waste…"
Gortash has to hold in a sigh of disbelief. "I appreciate your gift, but it isn't necessary to have a physical reminder. I will be attaining his position and contacts in due time. It will be proof enough of your generosity."
"As you wish, my dear." She prepares the body parts for her departure. "And feel free to take time before giving me an answer, I wouldn't want you to make this choice in haste. I'll return here, say… in a tenday?"
Against his own better judgment, Gortash cracks a smile, huffing in amusement. "Sure, if you can discover a different way into my home. The security will be promptly updated in response to your trespassing."
Giving a challenging grin, the now welcomed intruder chuckles lightly. "Oh, I wouldn't stress on that. There isn't a place on this or any plane of existence that I couldn't get into- given the time to prepare. Dream of me until then, pumpkin."
Solanine unbars and opens the window to the bathroom, and without waiting for a reply, waves her free hand and slips through the opening. No place she couldn't get into, huh? Gortash plans to test the extent of that confidence someday.
The human stands, draining the water before leaving the bath. Now he'll have to clean the tub before redrawing the water for himself. If he wasn't in a desperate need to bathe before, he is now. But more importantly, the servant of Bane wants to walk. Being surprised and trapped by that woman's holding spell. To feel so weak against an opponent. Enver made an oath to never let himself cower down and accept defeat. Not to repeat his childhood. Instead, he'd rule over everything, especially this bhaalspawn- with an iron fist.
He indeed has no information on Solanine. No knowledge of her skills or past. But the same can be said from the opposite side. They are complete mysteries to each other. And if he didn't take the opportunity to make the favored child of Bhaal obey him, he would not be able to call himself a Tyrant.
The challenge excites Gortash. He will become the absolute ruler. And Bane's black hand will spread from this city to the whole expanse of Toril.
Solanine wakes up on the Nautiloid with nothing but a lute and a killer headache. Not even her memories were there to aid her in how she's gotten into this mess. The only thing the Tiefling knows is she has a hunger for cruelty, and as the woman gains allies to cure her, it only gnaws at her more. Did the Tadpole cause this, or is there a history that escapes her? And who could know, if not her?
This story will be cut into two separate times, the past and the present. Of Solanine's rise to power, the ultimate fall, to the path of rediscovery. But, perhaps these moments aren't quite as separate as they seem.
Obviously, This contains so many BG3 spoilers, of the main story and of the Dark Urge playthrough. So... be warned.
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Trigger Warnings: Uh, this is Dark Urge- so for the people who don't already know what that means, there will be violence, gore, murder, death, homicidal ideation, violent compulsions, ritual sacrifice, religious fanaticism, and kind of just overall NSFW content (for violence and sexual content). Durge is death and chaos incarnate, and I will not be pulling back punches for this series.
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Because I am bouncing back and forth regarding timelines, I will place the year at the beginning of every chapter. However, here are some loose dates to help you understand when exactly everything takes place.
I did so much research, please appreciate my efforts of my hyperfixation
1280: Astarion is turned by Cazador
1482: Karlach sent to Avernus
1482: Ravengard is elected Grand Duke
1487: Wyll leaves his family in Baldur's Gate
1492: BG3 Game Start
I started writing a Baldur’s Gate fanfiction, here and on my Ao3 account! It’ll be dark and gritty, since it’s durge. But I love them and their relationships so much. If you’re interested, I really hope you’ll tune in!
Solanine's eyes carefully preview the intake of guests attending this gala while her fingers swiftly glide on the strings of her lute. As a relatively well-known bard, the tiefling stands alone in front of everyone; being on a modestly elevated stage gives her a fair view of the whole room. Nina knows she is in the optimal position to find the best of her prey. The spree killings she performed with her butler were fun; especially murdering that bright investigator who was following her tracks.
But tonight marks something new. Something Important.
It has been far too long, in Solanine's opinion, since the elite and powerful members of Baldur's Gate had something to fear. And if she's learned anything from her Father, all lives are equal in the eyes of slaughter. In death's embrace. So why should the rich feel safe from the terror she delivers? The tiefling's Urge wants nothing more than to find the closest person to disembowel, but her hands simply transition to the next chord in her song.
They can't be too powerful, not yet. No need to set the whole aristocracy into a full-blown panic, when she can sow seeds of terror much more carefully. Someone with some influence, but not fully integrated with the politics of the city. The death needs to be shocking, not groundbreaking. After all, this is more of a trial run for Nina, if anything.
With the last few guests drifting in, the Bhaalspawn receives the go-ahead from the organizer. A smile flashes on her lips before she opens her mouth to begin her first verse. The introduction of the main entertainment causes the majority of the guests to shift their investments toward Solanine, she unaffectedly soaks up the attention. Her focus glides across the unremarkable faces watching her. She does, however, settle her gaze on a young man with no interest in her performance.
For the first time, Nina doesn't feel like the only hunter attending this gala. The man walks with absolute purpose, his smile saccharine. But no amount of charisma can conceal the cold calculation in his eyes, not to Solanine. Against her training, the tiefling continues to watch the raven-haired man. The confidence in his stride, the swiftness of his motions. He seems perfectly natural in this setting. So why is her Urge screaming at her to mutilate him where he stands?
The song continues, but the excitement causes her blood to boil. Nina wants to meet him, wants to hear his voice, feel his heart beating. She wants to explore his innards, the workings of his mind. A murder so lovely to fill her up. But as Solanine continues her performance, a blond, middle-aged elf approaches her person of interest.
Seeing her target's expression tense at the moment of meeting, her interest is piqued. With the flick of her eyes, Nina sends Sceleritas to listen in. This could give her insight into the man, and see if his blood can be on her skin tonight. But, with her butler taking care of the conversation, Solanine focuses fully on her performance. She can't have her reputation suffer, not when she finally has legitimate contact with the city's elite.
Her introductory set has finished, and, after storing her lute carefully, Nina makes her way off the stage. She needs to find her target. Having been updated by her butler, the Bhaalspawn has a wonderful idea. She only has to confirm it. Even without the additional knowledge, Solanine had seen the key detail- that flare of hatred, the want to cause harm. It's intoxicating to her. And, if she can, maybe she can intensify that feeling.
Solanine admits that while her original thought was to kill the dark-haired man, the one who ignored her performance and seemed to focus solely on his mission. But having seen him, and hearing how Sceleritas describes him, the woman wonders how much cruelty is in his heart. Of course, with her curiosity showing through, Nina decides to make the elf, an arms dealer by the name of Ellisar, tonight's prey. To kill a man whose entire livelihood is based on the security of others; would be fun. But even more fun is seeing how her calculating stranger will react to her actions.
The crowd slows the tiefling down- the smiles and handshakes. Compliments and conversations. All boring, a routine to her over the years of performing. Usually, she'd allow the praise and attention to fuel her desire to disappear for the more intimate part of her show. But Solanine simply doesn't have the time for such things, and after a few short moments, she finds herself free of the bulk of guests.
The jewels and ornamentation decorating her hair and body make her noticeable at any angle. And, having already caught the eye of the elf, Solanine makes her way to the refreshments. As anticipated, Ellisar follows her at a distance.
Just as the bard takes up her glass, the man leans in- a bit too close for a first engagement- and speaks in a hushed tone. “Your voice,” He starts, “has such a captivating power. I have a hard time deciding what’s more beautiful, your looks or your talent.”
“Through my experience, I work to have all aspects of my presentation be symbiotic. Being unable to choose only speaks to the performance. I am honored by your words, sir.” Solanine replies politely. Being sought by her target is not quite what she expected. But there isn't a surprise too much for her to adapt to.
The man chuckles, reaching out his hand in greeting. “The honor is all mine, Miss…?”
“Achan."
The tiefling returns the handshake. Her target is too soft in his grip. Nina will enjoy peeling away the layers of his hand. "Miss Achan, I'm surprised that I hadn't heard you playing before now. Seems like you should be attending events all the time."
As he speaks, the Bhaalspawn moves her eyes over to the dark-haired stranger who caught her eye originally. Seeing the hateful stare she is met with before the man quickly looks away, a wicked idea comes to mind. Solanine gives a smile, shaking her head at his remark. "I don't expect for many to know me. While it's true that Baldur's Gate is my home, I spent many years traveling Toril, learning my trade. I've just recently returned. But I truly appreciate your words, mister…"
"Oh, I'm Ellisar Harrele. While I hope you will never have need of my services, know that I have only the best selection of weapons and armors available."
"Is this an introduction, or business marketing?" Nina's question is lighthearted and joking.
The elf responds well, shaking his head as he talks. "No, not marketing. I already know what you do, it seemed only fair that you know the same."
Solanine doesn't add anything, just continues to smile politely. She can't seem invested, lest others take note of it. This man will be dead in a few hours, and Nina doesn't want to be remarkable when people are questioned about it.
As the performer begins to look around at the crowd, the elf takes a step closer to establish his grip on the conversation. "I know that you must get asked this all the time, but is there anyone you're going home to when the party's over? Or do I have a chance to extend this meeting for after this event?"
"Thank you, sir, but I must say no to your question. While I don't have another I'm seeing, I really want to take my time settling back into the city. I hope you understand." She gives a small head nod, trying to appear meek.
Ellisar's brows furrow at her decline, his voice dropping low as, Nina can only assume, to pressure her. "Leaving with me will only increase your desirability, my dear. To refuse me is to ruin yourself right when you are starting." Her target puts a hand around her back, gliding his fingers down Solanine's back. "You'll have a good time, let me show you."
The Urge bubbles at the contact. In these moments, Nina is thankful to have had all those years with Sceleritas. Instead, the bard tries to remove his arm and take a step back. "I want my performance to aid me in building connections with others, not… this." She hopes that luck is on her side as she looks back to her person of interest. Was he watching this issue take place?
Emerald green irises lock onto her crimson ones. This time, however, the man doesn't look away. Solanine recognizes her idea could become a reality and shoots a pleading, panicked expression before refocusing on her toy.
"Come on, now. Don't be so difficult. A bard can't get far on talent alone. You need someone to help get you there. Outfits, instruments, invitations; I can get that for you. I have more power than you could imagine."
The man's composure is faltering. The woman highly doubts this stranger will resort to anything more than coercion, especially at an event. But this is getting irritating. His words sound like pleas, ones that are given before death. His death will be glorious and she can bathe in his blood, the warm liquid pouring-
The man's arm is forced off her, held by the raven-haired stranger. When did he get here? Was the Bhaalspawn too deep in her Urge to notice his approach? Rookie mistake.
"I'd personally love to see this power and money you so confidently flaunt. After all, I've heard that your clients all seem to be leaving you for younger, fresher offers." The human's voice is calm and collected, enjoying the position he's in.
"At what point in my conversation with Miss Achan did you feel it included you, Gortash?" Ellisar snaps, tearing himself out of the other man's grip.
The stranger, Gortash, hums softly at his declarative, a slight grin appearing on his face. "Seeing as this is a public setting, with an entertainer who doesn't seem to be enjoying your presence; I don't think this is the place for private discussions. Or… desperate propositions."
The elf begins to shy away, but his opponent continues, still just as composed as before. "Did you finally catch your wife in that evident affair she's been having? It's been lasting for a year now, and with your brother? Seems someone is about to end up washed up and alone."
Solanine wants this to continue, wants to see this man who acted so bold be ground into dust by words alone. But she'll have that fun later. The tiefling reaches forward, gingerly taking the man- Gortash's forearm in her hand. "Please don't make it a scene. I don't to cause an issue for the others."
Gortash stops, allowing her prey to escape, and turns to Nina as if nothing had happened. He smiles at her with a slight bow of his head. "Apologies, I must have gotten carried away. I hope that Ellisar hasn't ruined your night, he is not an example of the rest of us, I assure you."
"I'm glad to know that he is the exception, not the expectation. " Solanine responds with earnest. "Thank you for your aid, sir."
Deftly taking her hand from his forearm, he waits politely for a moment before kissing the back of it. "Gortash. Enver Gortash. It is a pleasure to have heard your performance, Miss Achan."
"Solanine."
The human looks back up at her, confusion laced in his expression.
"I've been told I should use my last name more often, but 'Miss Achan' just doesn't have the same ring to it. So I use it when being polite, or when I'd rather not give my first. But for you, it's Solanine."
"I'm honored, Miss Solanine. I only did what any person should do in a situation like this." Letting go of the Bhaalspawn's hand, he offers her his arm as an escort.
She accepts it, the contact once again setting her blood in a frenzy. What is it with this seemingly normal man to have such a deep-seated hatred by her Urge? She is but a divine tool- has this man blasphemed against her Father? Solanine isn't sure. But until she knows, she decides to enjoy this while it lasts.
"So, Mister Enver Gortash, what has brought you to the gala? Is it for business or pleasure?"
Gortash grins a little, and the two begin to walk the ballroom's outer area. "I find that business can be pleasurable, depending on the endeavors. My visit here was originally for business. But that is on hold while you have me."
"No proposals to offer or propositions to try and convince me of? Whatever will we talk about, then?" Solanine glances over at him, his emerald eyes giving her full attention.
"That is difficult, I must admit. How have you enjoyed your return to Baldur's Gate?"
Nodding along to the question, the tiefling quickly works to lead the conversation to what she wants. "It's been going well. I love seeing in what ways it's changed, but how it always feels the same. Although, the popularity of my name has now made interactions like Mr. Harrele much more common. And I don't always have someone kind enough to step in." She bites her lip as her tail wraps around her leg sheepishly. "If you don't mind my mentioning, the two of you seem to have a slight history. I didn't add a new topic in a lifelong feud, did I?"
Gortash laughs lightly. "No, no. Nothing that important, I assure you. Ellisar is a competitor of mine, a rather brutal one. He makes it a point to crush anyone trying to start a company with any similarities to his." The familiar look of bloodlust in the man's eyes betrays his nonchalant demeanor. "Much like his approach towards you, Ellisar is rather heavy-handed in his tactics. Made it easy to work around his obstacles. So, I am a particular eyesore to him, which I am sure to exploit."
"Oh," Nina starts, "Then you're an arms dealer, like he is. Have you become more influential in your time than him?"
The raven-haired man shakes his head. "No, not yet." Gortash extends his free hand in front of him, closing his fingers into a firm fist. "But he's within my reach now. It won't be long now."
Solanine gives a smile, a little too harsh for the personality she's given off to the man, but her excitement can hardly be contained. The blood she can already feel on her hands, and watching the soul beside her slowly corrupt into the man she knows he can be... how can she not be ecstatic?
"It'll happen. You don't look like the type of man to be hindered by something for long. Just how many ideas brew in the head of you, Enver?"
His brows raise for a moment, but a smug grin soon follows. "More than I'd ever admit to. How did a bard learn to gain such insight on others?"
The tiefling shrugs, her enjoyment still tugging at the corners of her lips. "I have no choice but to read people. Find the difference between a good gig from a bad one. Or a bad man and… someone like you."
The two look at each other for a moment, reading one another. A spark of realization hits Solanine. "Say, did you ever-"
An attendant approaches the pair, a look of urgency in her eyes. Solanine's eyes turn harsh for the smallest fraction of a second, having her conversation interrupted, but she recomposes faster than anyone would notice.
"Excuse me, Miss Achan, you are requested for your next performance of the evening." the Bhaalspawn nods and dismisses the young man before turning back to Gortash with a tinge of disappointment.
Gortash smiles, seemingly understanding her current obligation. "Duty calls, I see. And I much change back to the business side of this event. If you'd be inclined, perhaps we could continue our conversation after the gala?"
"My, Enver, are you asking to spend more time with me?"
"I am, but unlike the brute earlier, I will respect your decision."
The want to say yes is so pressing. But if she does this, her Urge will surely take over and this human would be nothing more than a stain of blood. And she has so much more fun planned. "I'm afraid that I do have an engagement later that night. But, we definitely will be united again- sooner than you may think. Call it a premonition.
Gortash goes to open his mouth, but the man before calls for the performer again, more pressingly. Without time to prolong the encounter, Solanine leans closer to him, kissing his cheek. She relishes his heat, the pulsing of his heart that seems to pound this close. She would taste his blood. Leave him inside out on the floor… But not yet. Squeezing his hand, Nina pulls away and begins walking to the stage.
"Don't let anything get in your way, Gortash." The Bhaalspawn gives a cheeky smile before ascending to the stage. With a renewed vigor, Solanine starts her second set.
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Gortash stands still, watching the tiefling as she begins performing. Having his offer rejected stings, but hearing the confidence in Solanine's voice when she said they'd meet again. He can't help but feel like she is telling the truth, as ominous as that may be. He smiles.
What is going on in that head of hers? How could that kiss could be so sincere, yet make him feel that he was no longer the hunter, but the hunted? Gortash recalls the lethal glare in her eyes for a flash of a second. Maybe she would be a good follower of Bane with some guidance. Maybe she doesn't even need any.
Regardless, he allows himself to enjoy her show for a song or two. But he has a job to do. They both do.
Come check out my new series, Star Crossed! I have two chapters out now, working on a third. I love this duo so much. If Larian won’t give us Gortash love, we will create it ourselves 😂
I've never used hirelings before since there are already too many people I want in my party and not enough slots. So I never knew you could talk to them or that Withers would speak through them. Until this happened:
And look. I already have enough stuff to write. I don't need more ideas. But goddamn it. Now I'm just envisioning a post-game AU where Durge is like "I cleaned up your mess, Jergal. You owe me." So Jergal, kind of bored already, is like "Fine" and brings Gortash back to life.
So. I guess I'm going to do it. Write a short (and I mean that, a SHORT) story about this so I can get it out of my head and stop thinking about it.
Introduction
Chapter 1 (Chapter 2 begins only hours after this chapter)
1477 DR
Gortash enters the candlelit room, rolling out the stress on his shoulders. The gala had been a critical success, precisely as he had calculated. This was essential to achieve the next step of his ambition. What wasn't planned, however, was the musician leaving an indelible impression on him.
And it isn't the expertise of her craft. Nor her cadence and the way she conversed with him. Hells, it wasn't for her appearance: her smile, clothes, or jewelry. While Solanine may be alluring and well-trained for this life, those attributes are commonplace in the circles he finds himself in. It was her glare. Witnessing her beautiful, pure eyes display that much hatred and malevolence was fascinating. Just her touch made the hairs on his neck stand on end.
She made Gortash feel he was in danger; he was not the only person with a lethal calling. The human had figured that dedicating the rest of the night after the event to the needs of his followers and the wishes of Bane would put the thought of the bard out of Gortash's mind. But here he is, drawing up a bath with one simple question on his mind- just who is this tiefling?
Stepping out of his garments, the tyrant settles into the soak with a deep exhale. She declared that they'd meet again. And, with the reception of her music by the attendants, he doesn't doubt that he'd see Solanine again in the next few months.
But it is already twilight, and he has much more work to complete tonight. With an inhale, the human shuts his eyes and submerges under the water. The young man slowly releases his breath, sinking to the bottom of the tub. It isn't until his lungs start aching that Enver resurfaces from underwater. The artificer wipes the water from his face, opening his eyes to pitch darkness. Instantly, Gortash begins processing what has happened. No windows were left open, and there are too many candles to have been blown out by a draft. The human tries to stop and listen, being greeted with an unpolluted silence. The only oddity he notices is a smell he can't quite identify. Still, his instinct screams that he is in danger.
Not one to panic amid a threat, Enver tucks his legs underneath him, extending his reach to search for his clothes. Or rather, the lighting device he always keeps in his pants pocket. However, he undressed too far away for him to grab it. But during his struggle, the smell becomes more distinct, more… metallic.
"I have a gift for you." The voice from within the bath causes the tyrant to freeze. He resists the urge to flinch as the woman's blood-drenched fingers glide down his cheek. Not wanting more of the sanguine liquid smeared on him, the man takes her hand and places it into the water. When he does, the stranger's magic slips, revealing the glow of her flaming irises. They are familiar to him, containing the perfect combination of purity and malice. It's her.
"And what might that be?"
The response isn't immediate. Instead, Enver feels the water being disturbed. He can sense when Solanine leans towards him and quickly grips her other hand when she places it on his shoulder. But, even still, the tiefling easily reaches the Banite's ear. "Don't spoil the surprise, you varlet. I set it on display for you."
Gortash's jaw clenches as he braces for whatever she has prepared for him. It's a comforting thought, how easy it would be to drown her in the water, dispose of the body and whatever this present is, and go to sleep without a second thought. For the time being, he'll play along with her little game. "Then don't dawdle. Show me."
His vision is starting to adjust to the darkness, but it isn't enough to view anything. And the knowledge that she can see him puts him at a harsh disadvantage. When Solanine slips her fingers away from his, the man allows her. She utters an incantation, lighting every candle simultaneously. A magic user, duly noted. But Gortash turns his attention away from the unseemly woman- even though her stained body gives him an impression of what to expect.
It is certainly a presentation; she was truthful. It's his rival, Ellisar. Parts of him, rather, are placed upon a crimson cloth; he's unsure if the fabric is naturally that hue. The decapitated head is looking toward him, with his brain removed and arranged to the right on the material. His heart is on the left, and both hands lay palms up, akin to an oblation.
As his mind adapts to the gruesome show before him, he leaves enough of an opening for the tiefling to approach, wrapping her arms around him and laying her head on his chest. It's strange; despite being in the warmth of the bath, Enver can still note the coldness of her skin. Not willing to let her be comforted by his shock, he grabs Solanine's nude, bloodied shoulders, pushing her away from him. "Why would you do something like this?" His voice is as cruel as his eyes are darkened.
Her expression falls, now almost bashful as she responds, "Did I upset you, Enver? Does it trouble you that I killed him? How I give him to you as an offering for your favor? I saw the calculation when you looked at him, even up on my stage. It's what brought me to you two. Your cold, vindictive gaze- resembling my own. I knew you wanted him dead. And I am, naturally, a servant to the desires of my audience." She traces shapes all along his held hand, seemingly like she wants to make him happy. Gortash almost believes it if her eyes didn't betray such murderous intent. "But maybe you wanted to end him yourself. Apparently, the rumors are true; no one hates to lose control as much as a Banite."
His blood rushes as the name of his god passes his lips. She is a liability, her knowledge is dangerous. And those blasphemous words carry the order of her execution. He'd silence her cheerful voice once evermore. Gortash lunges for the woman, but she is a step faster. As his muscles tighten to grip her, Solanine pulls out a piece of iron embedded in her skin. The casting is lightning fast causing Gortash's movement to immediately suspend in response.
The innocence in her eyes remains unaltered, now trailing the same shapes on his paralyzed neck. "Or are you so distressed because in the back of your mind, you understood: the servant of Bane was beaten by the child of Bhaal?"
Her malicious smile again betrays the sincerity of her tone as the pieces fall into place. Despite this compromised position, pure rage radiates from the tyrant. "You're a Bhaalspawn."
"His favorite Bhaalspawn, yes, and leader of his church. The gala originally was a means for me to find my prey. So imagine my astonishment when I met you and all I experienced was the Urge to split your ribs open and watch the light in your eyes disappear. I watched you with morbid curiosity until I had an epiphany. Then my plan changed."
"To steal my kill? Or is it to kill me now while I'm taking a bath?" The acridity in his tone is thick enough to asphyxiate.
He expects her to laugh, to roll her eyes, or taunt him in some demeaning way. But the Bhaalspawn doesn't. Solanine's smile fades into a blank expression as she stares at his throat. The two stay like a picture for a moment, and while her mind seems far away, Enver can feel the weight of her bloodlust only intensify.
Gortash attempts to break free, to escape the binding of her spell. But in this moment, he is powerless against the threat of his own demise. How disgusting.
With a deep inhale, the Bhaalspawn's eyes become alert to her surroundings. Gortash attempts to speak but her hold on him releases before he has the opportunity. The devil chuckles. "Neither, silly man."
The Banite refrains from attacking her when capable. But his attacker sits still, wholly attentive to his movements. Solanine appears to notice his solicitude and, dropping her spell component on the ground, begins to explain. "I want us to ally together and work to bring this disgraceful city to heel. Our dear friend Ellisar is a gift and a gesture of my goodwill."
As she speaks, Enver searches for any hint of deceit. But the woman appears to express her thoughts with the utmost sincerity. "Our churches have a vast history of deeply rooted animosity for one another. Why would the so-called Bhaalist herald wish to join forces with the enemy?"
"I want you to have power. To take this time building connections and control over your subjects. Which is pleasing to your Lord Bane."
The cerulean tiefling talks with such passion that her loyalty to her deity can be nearly forgotten. But Gortash has never been susceptible to being swayed by strokes to his ego. "Solanine, answer the question."
"Bhaal and Bane, yes, has had tense relations for a very long time. But being two thirds of the 'Dead Three', and us as their messengers, it would be in our best interest to keep each other close, raising one another up in the bloody future." A virulent smile spread on the young woman's face at an almost unnatural size. He watches as the child of murder begins to wash the blood off of her, using the supplies he had on a table next to them. "So you, my darling, would continue building your life in higher society, schmoozing and gaining favors from the rich and elite. It is as you already planned. But I can remove any opposition or complication in your rise to power. And any beneficial information found by my following can be yours."
Looking back at the bard, she knowingly displays his soap on the gore that soils her skin. The tyrant sees the mischievous glint in her eyes and realizes how well her ploy to bother him is working. In a step to gain some control in this situation, Gortash seizes the soap from her hands, not yielding when Solanine's peaceful aura snaps into viciousness. And instead, begins to clean her of her filth.
The Banite hums, considering the offer. The idea of wielding this woman, a literal daughter of murder, as a weapon and to serve him as Bhaal did for Bane. It piques his interest. "And what benefits you in this alliance if I'm getting everything I want?"
"Only with offering up lives in my Father's name, with blood running down the street, can by duty be fulfilled. But I wish to cause fear, to have people looking behind them when they walk down the street. And I can do that to an extent with my network of information, and my own connections. But to have your knowledge and influence to sharpen my life and blade. With you by my side, there isn't a soul in Baldur's Gate safe. And as they begin to feel it creeping up their spine, these people will come to you, love. The savior of this terror would inspire hope in people, all while leading them into their own demise."
Gortash takes a few minutes to deliberate. All the while, Solanine obediently sits as he cleans her; only a melody softly passes through her lips during his contemplation. To have a born and bred assassin at his call in exchange for a couple well-timed bribes. It would aid both of them; that much is true.
He opens his mouth to respond, but the tiefling is one step faster, staying his hand on her with his own. "Let me perfectly clear with you, I am not some lesser creature, eager to serve under your boot. Our interests align with this city. And why have an enemy when we can be-"
"…Friends?" He finishes incredulously.
Her fingers curl slightly, embedding her claws into his skin in a malicious reaction. He resists a hiss of air at the discomfort. "Let's not be overly hasty, here. After all, I just learned your name. Let our friendship be pending for the time being, and think of us as colleagues. So while you have the spotlight of power, remember who can hold the blade to any neck in this city- even yours."
While the intimidation act does not amuse him, it does remind Gortash that Solanine has gotten the better of him once today. And he is painfully unaware of her capabilities.
"And Bhaal has approved of this?"
Almost realizing her nails in his wrist, the woman relaxes and allows Gortash to continue with the bath. "I am given a sort of… freedom in my actions, so long as they are for Him. So, if He had an issue with my plan when I created it, there would have been atonement for my sins and we wouldn't be talking currently."
It's curious how quickly she has received a sanction of their alliance. He would need to confer in prayer with Lord Bane before any confirmation could be made. What would her penance look like, anyway? Is it simply extra murders that night, bathing in ritualistic blood, or maybe even a promise to increase the severity of her depraved thoughts? Or, perhaps, they are cruel. Bone-shattering pleas to a merciless god.
"I cannot give you a solidified answer this evening. While the offer you deliver me is appealing, I need my own Lord's backing before I make any final decision. You understand, I'm sure."
Her demeanor has returned to that of the refined woman he met only hours ago, watching his hands as they gingerly rinse off the remaining lather on her skin. Solanine then stands, not caring to conceal her nude body, and going as forward as to graze her tail across his chest. Walking on her toes, murder's daughter silently steps to her twisted gift. "Do you want to keep him? I brought him for you, after all. But if you're only doing to dispose of him, it seems like a waste…"
Gortash has to hold in a sigh of disbelief. "I appreciate your gift, but it isn't necessary to have a physical reminder. I will be attaining his position and contacts in due time. It will be proof enough of your generosity."
"As you wish, my dear." She prepares the body parts for her departure. "And feel free to take time before giving me an answer, I wouldn't want you to make this choice in haste. I'll return here, say… in a tenday?"
Against his own better judgment, Gortash cracks a smile, huffing in amusement. "Sure, if you can discover a different way into my home. The security will be promptly updated in response to your trespassing."
Giving a challenging grin, the now welcomed intruder chuckles lightly. "Oh, I wouldn't stress on that. There isn't a place on this or any plane of existence that I couldn't get into- given the time to prepare. Dream of me until then, pumpkin."
Solanine unbars and opens the window to the bathroom, and without waiting for a reply, waves her free hand and slips through the opening. No place she couldn't get into, huh? Gortash plans to test the extent of that confidence someday.
The human stands, draining the water before leaving the bath. Now he'll have to clean the tub before redrawing the water for himself. If he wasn't in a desperate need to bathe before, he is now. But more importantly, the servant of Bane wants to walk. Being surprised and trapped by that woman's holding spell. To feel so weak against an opponent. Enver made an oath to never let himself cower down and accept defeat. Not to repeat his childhood. Instead, he'd rule over everything, especially this bhaalspawn- with an iron fist.
He indeed has no information on Solanine. No knowledge of her skills or past. But the same can be said from the opposite side. They are complete mysteries to each other. And if he didn't take the opportunity to make the favored child of Bhaal obey him, he would not be able to call himself a Tyrant.
The challenge excites Gortash. He will become the absolute ruler. And Bane's black hand will spread from this city to the whole expanse of Toril.
Click here for the Introduction
Click here for Chapter 2
1477 DR
Solanine's eyes carefully preview the intake of guests attending this gala while her fingers swiftly glide on the strings of her lute. As a relatively well-known bard, the tiefling stands alone in front of everyone; being on a modestly elevated stage gives her a fair view of the whole room. Nina knows she is in the optimal position to find the best of her prey. The spree killings she performed with her butler were fun; especially murdering that bright investigator who was following her tracks.
But tonight marks something new. Something Important.
It has been far too long, in Solanine's opinion, since the elite and powerful members of Baldur's Gate had something to fear. And if she's learned anything from her Father, all lives are equal in the eyes of slaughter. In death's embrace. So why should the rich feel safe from the terror she delivers? The tiefling's Urge wants nothing more than to find the closest person to disembowel, but her hands simply transition to the next chord in her song.
They can't be too powerful, not yet. No need to set the whole aristocracy into a full-blown panic, when she can sow seeds of terror much more carefully. Someone with some influence, but not fully integrated with the politics of the city. The death needs to be shocking, not groundbreaking. After all, this is more of a trial run for Nina, if anything.
With the last few guests drifting in, the Bhaalspawn receives the go-ahead from the organizer. A smile flashes on her lips before she opens her mouth to begin her first verse. The introduction of the main entertainment causes the majority of the guests to shift their investments toward Solanine, she unaffectedly soaks up the attention. Her focus glides across the unremarkable faces watching her. She does, however, settle her gaze on a young man with no interest in her performance.
For the first time, Nina doesn't feel like the only hunter attending this gala. The man walks with absolute purpose, his smile saccharine. But no amount of charisma can conceal the cold calculation in his eyes, not to Solanine. Against her training, the tiefling continues to watch the raven-haired man. The confidence in his stride, the swiftness of his motions. He seems perfectly natural in this setting. So why is her Urge screaming at her to mutilate him where he stands?
The song continues, but the excitement causes her blood to boil. Nina wants to meet him, wants to hear his voice, feel his heart beating. She wants to explore his innards, the workings of his mind. A murder so lovely to fill her up. But as Solanine continues her performance, a blond, middle-aged elf approaches her person of interest.
Seeing her target's expression tense at the moment of meeting, her interest is piqued. With the flick of her eyes, Nina sends Sceleritas to listen in. This could give her insight into the man, and see if his blood can be on her skin tonight. But, with her butler taking care of the conversation, Solanine focuses fully on her performance. She can't have her reputation suffer, not when she finally has legitimate contact with the city's elite.
Her introductory set has finished, and, after storing her lute carefully, Nina makes her way off the stage. She needs to find her target. Having been updated by her butler, the Bhaalspawn has a wonderful idea. She only has to confirm it. Even without the additional knowledge, Solanine had seen the key detail- that flare of hatred, the want to cause harm. It's intoxicating to her. And, if she can, maybe she can intensify that feeling.
Solanine admits that while her original thought was to kill the dark-haired man, the one who ignored her performance and seemed to focus solely on his mission. But having seen him, and hearing how Sceleritas describes him, the woman wonders how much cruelty is in his heart. Of course, with her curiosity showing through, Nina decides to make the elf, an arms dealer by the name of Ellisar, tonight's prey. To kill a man whose entire livelihood is based on the security of others; would be fun. But even more fun is seeing how her calculating stranger will react to her actions.
The crowd slows the tiefling down- the smiles and handshakes. Compliments and conversations. All boring, a routine to her over the years of performing. Usually, she'd allow the praise and attention to fuel her desire to disappear for the more intimate part of her show. But Solanine simply doesn't have the time for such things, and after a few short moments, she finds herself free of the bulk of guests.
The jewels and ornamentation decorating her hair and body make her noticeable at any angle. And, having already caught the eye of the elf, Solanine makes her way to the refreshments. As anticipated, Ellisar follows her at a distance.
Just as the bard takes up her glass, the man leans in- a bit too close for a first engagement- and speaks in a hushed tone. “Your voice,” He starts, “has such a captivating power. I have a hard time deciding what’s more beautiful, your looks or your talent.”
“Through my experience, I work to have all aspects of my presentation be symbiotic. Being unable to choose only speaks to the performance. I am honored by your words, sir.” Solanine replies politely. Being sought by her target is not quite what she expected. But there isn't a surprise too much for her to adapt to.
The man chuckles, reaching out his hand in greeting. “The honor is all mine, Miss…?”
“Achan."
The tiefling returns the handshake. Her target is too soft in his grip. Nina will enjoy peeling away the layers of his hand. "Miss Achan, I'm surprised that I hadn't heard you playing before now. Seems like you should be attending events all the time."
As he speaks, the Bhaalspawn moves her eyes over to the dark-haired stranger who caught her eye originally. Seeing the hateful stare she is met with before the man quickly looks away, a wicked idea comes to mind. Solanine gives a smile, shaking her head at his remark. "I don't expect for many to know me. While it's true that Baldur's Gate is my home, I spent many years traveling Toril, learning my trade. I've just recently returned. But I truly appreciate your words, mister…"
"Oh, I'm Ellisar Harrele. While I hope you will never have need of my services, know that I have only the best selection of weapons and armors available."
"Is this an introduction, or business marketing?" Nina's question is lighthearted and joking.
The elf responds well, shaking his head as he talks. "No, not marketing. I already know what you do, it seemed only fair that you know the same."
Solanine doesn't add anything, just continues to smile politely. She can't seem invested, lest others take note of it. This man will be dead in a few hours, and Nina doesn't want to be remarkable when people are questioned about it.
As the performer begins to look around at the crowd, the elf takes a step closer to establish his grip on the conversation. "I know that you must get asked this all the time, but is there anyone you're going home to when the party's over? Or do I have a chance to extend this meeting for after this event?"
"Thank you, sir, but I must say no to your question. While I don't have another I'm seeing, I really want to take my time settling back into the city. I hope you understand." She gives a small head nod, trying to appear meek.
Ellisar's brows furrow at her decline, his voice dropping low as, Nina can only assume, to pressure her. "Leaving with me will only increase your desirability, my dear. To refuse me is to ruin yourself right when you are starting." Her target puts a hand around her back, gliding his fingers down Solanine's back. "You'll have a good time, let me show you."
The Urge bubbles at the contact. In these moments, Nina is thankful to have had all those years with Sceleritas. Instead, the bard tries to remove his arm and take a step back. "I want my performance to aid me in building connections with others, not… this." She hopes that luck is on her side as she looks back to her person of interest. Was he watching this issue take place?
Emerald green irises lock onto her crimson ones. This time, however, the man doesn't look away. Solanine recognizes her idea could become a reality and shoots a pleading, panicked expression before refocusing on her toy.
"Come on, now. Don't be so difficult. A bard can't get far on talent alone. You need someone to help get you there. Outfits, instruments, invitations; I can get that for you. I have more power than you could imagine."
The man's composure is faltering. The woman highly doubts this stranger will resort to anything more than coercion, especially at an event. But this is getting irritating. His words sound like pleas, ones that are given before death. His death will be glorious and she can bathe in his blood, the warm liquid pouring-
The man's arm is forced off her, held by the raven-haired stranger. When did he get here? Was the Bhaalspawn too deep in her Urge to notice his approach? Rookie mistake.
"I'd personally love to see this power and money you so confidently flaunt. After all, I've heard that your clients all seem to be leaving you for younger, fresher offers." The human's voice is calm and collected, enjoying the position he's in.
"At what point in my conversation with Miss Achan did you feel it included you, Gortash?" Ellisar snaps, tearing himself out of the other man's grip.
The stranger, Gortash, hums softly at his declarative, a slight grin appearing on his face. "Seeing as this is a public setting, with an entertainer who doesn't seem to be enjoying your presence; I don't think this is the place for private discussions. Or… desperate propositions."
The elf begins to shy away, but his opponent continues, still just as composed as before. "Did you finally catch your wife in that evident affair she's been having? It's been lasting for a year now, and with your brother? Seems someone is about to end up washed up and alone."
Solanine wants this to continue, wants to see this man who acted so bold be ground into dust by words alone. But she'll have that fun later. The tiefling reaches forward, gingerly taking the man- Gortash's forearm in her hand. "Please don't make it a scene. I don't to cause an issue for the others."
Gortash stops, allowing her prey to escape, and turns to Nina as if nothing had happened. He smiles at her with a slight bow of his head. "Apologies, I must have gotten carried away. I hope that Ellisar hasn't ruined your night, he is not an example of the rest of us, I assure you."
"I'm glad to know that he is the exception, not the expectation. " Solanine responds with earnest. "Thank you for your aid, sir."
Deftly taking her hand from his forearm, he waits politely for a moment before kissing the back of it. "Gortash. Enver Gortash. It is a pleasure to have heard your performance, Miss Achan."
"Solanine."
The human looks back up at her, confusion laced in his expression.
"I've been told I should use my last name more often, but 'Miss Achan' just doesn't have the same ring to it. So I use it when being polite, or when I'd rather not give my first. But for you, it's Solanine."
"I'm honored, Miss Solanine. I only did what any person should do in a situation like this." Letting go of the Bhaalspawn's hand, he offers her his arm as an escort.
She accepts it, the contact once again setting her blood in a frenzy. What is it with this seemingly normal man to have such a deep-seated hatred by her Urge? She is but a divine tool- has this man blasphemed against her Father? Solanine isn't sure. But until she knows, she decides to enjoy this while it lasts.
"So, Mister Enver Gortash, what has brought you to the gala? Is it for business or pleasure?"
Gortash grins a little, and the two begin to walk the ballroom's outer area. "I find that business can be pleasurable, depending on the endeavors. My visit here was originally for business. But that is on hold while you have me."
"No proposals to offer or propositions to try and convince me of? Whatever will we talk about, then?" Solanine glances over at him, his emerald eyes giving her full attention.
"That is difficult, I must admit. How have you enjoyed your return to Baldur's Gate?"
Nodding along to the question, the tiefling quickly works to lead the conversation to what she wants. "It's been going well. I love seeing in what ways it's changed, but how it always feels the same. Although, the popularity of my name has now made interactions like Mr. Harrele much more common. And I don't always have someone kind enough to step in." She bites her lip as her tail wraps around her leg sheepishly. "If you don't mind my mentioning, the two of you seem to have a slight history. I didn't add a new topic in a lifelong feud, did I?"
Gortash laughs lightly. "No, no. Nothing that important, I assure you. Ellisar is a competitor of mine, a rather brutal one. He makes it a point to crush anyone trying to start a company with any similarities to his." The familiar look of bloodlust in the man's eyes betrays his nonchalant demeanor. "Much like his approach towards you, Ellisar is rather heavy-handed in his tactics. Made it easy to work around his obstacles. So, I am a particular eyesore to him, which I am sure to exploit."
"Oh," Nina starts, "Then you're an arms dealer, like he is. Have you become more influential in your time than him?"
The raven-haired man shakes his head. "No, not yet." Gortash extends his free hand in front of him, closing his fingers into a firm fist. "But he's within my reach now. It won't be long now."
Solanine gives a smile, a little too harsh for the personality she's given off to the man, but her excitement can hardly be contained. The blood she can already feel on her hands, and watching the soul beside her slowly corrupt into the man she knows he can be... how can she not be ecstatic?
"It'll happen. You don't look like the type of man to be hindered by something for long. Just how many ideas brew in the head of you, Enver?"
His brows raise for a moment, but a smug grin soon follows. "More than I'd ever admit to. How did a bard learn to gain such insight on others?"
The tiefling shrugs, her enjoyment still tugging at the corners of her lips. "I have no choice but to read people. Find the difference between a good gig from a bad one. Or a bad man and… someone like you."
The two look at each other for a moment, reading one another. A spark of realization hits Solanine. "Say, did you ever-"
An attendant approaches the pair, a look of urgency in her eyes. Solanine's eyes turn harsh for the smallest fraction of a second, having her conversation interrupted, but she recomposes faster than anyone would notice.
"Excuse me, Miss Achan, you are requested for your next performance of the evening." the Bhaalspawn nods and dismisses the young man before turning back to Gortash with a tinge of disappointment.
Gortash smiles, seemingly understanding her current obligation. "Duty calls, I see. And I much change back to the business side of this event. If you'd be inclined, perhaps we could continue our conversation after the gala?"
"My, Enver, are you asking to spend more time with me?"
"I am, but unlike the brute earlier, I will respect your decision."
The want to say yes is so pressing. But if she does this, her Urge will surely take over and this human would be nothing more than a stain of blood. And she has so much more fun planned. "I'm afraid that I do have an engagement later that night. But, we definitely will be united again- sooner than you may think. Call it a premonition.
Gortash goes to open his mouth, but the man before calls for the performer again, more pressingly. Without time to prolong the encounter, Solanine leans closer to him, kissing his cheek. She relishes his heat, the pulsing of his heart that seems to pound this close. She would taste his blood. Leave him inside out on the floor… But not yet. Squeezing his hand, Nina pulls away and begins walking to the stage.
"Don't let anything get in your way, Gortash." The Bhaalspawn gives a cheeky smile before ascending to the stage. With a renewed vigor, Solanine starts her second set.
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Gortash stands still, watching the tiefling as she begins performing. Having his offer rejected stings, but hearing the confidence in Solanine's voice when she said they'd meet again. He can't help but feel like she is telling the truth, as ominous as that may be. He smiles.
What is going on in that head of hers? How could that kiss could be so sincere, yet make him feel that he was no longer the hunter, but the hunted? Gortash recalls the lethal glare in her eyes for a flash of a second. Maybe she would be a good follower of Bane with some guidance. Maybe she doesn't even need any.
Regardless, he allows himself to enjoy her show for a song or two. But he has a job to do. They both do.
Solanine wakes up on the Nautiloid with nothing but a lute and a killer headache. Not even her memories were there to aid her in how she's gotten into this mess. The only thing the Tiefling knows is she has a hunger for cruelty, and as the woman gains allies to cure her, it only gnaws at her more. Did the Tadpole cause this, or is there a history that escapes her? And who could know, if not her?
This story will be cut into two separate times, the past and the present. Of Solanine's rise to power, the ultimate fall, to the path of rediscovery. But, perhaps these moments aren't quite as separate as they seem.
Obviously, This contains so many BG3 spoilers, of the main story and of the Dark Urge playthrough. So... be warned.
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Trigger Warnings: Uh, this is Dark Urge- so for the people who don't already know what that means, there will be violence, gore, murder, death, homicidal ideation, violent compulsions, ritual sacrifice, religious fanaticism, and kind of just overall NSFW content (for violence and sexual content). Durge is death and chaos incarnate, and I will not be pulling back punches for this series.
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Because I am bouncing back and forth regarding timelines, I will place the year at the beginning of every chapter. However, here are some loose dates to help you understand when exactly everything takes place.
I did so much research, please appreciate my efforts of my hyperfixation
1280: Astarion is turned by Cazador
1482: Karlach sent to Avernus
1482: Ravengard is elected Grand Duke
1487: Wyll leaves his family in Baldur's Gate
1492: BG3 Game Start
Chapters:
1. The Gala (1477DR)
2. The Meeting (1477DR) A few hours after Chapter 1
3. The Camp (1492 DR)
