#durge!oc

[durgetavoc]

I know this won’t be the first or last time someone says it, but what I love about playing as Dark Urge and rolling insight on Gortash’s body language is the iconic "He's teasing you" and "He did miss this." Like— Babygirl, omg??? Did you miss teasing your favorite Bhaalspawn? Your one and only beloved assassin? Were you bored without Durge during those months because they were the only one who could match your energy??? Just like kicking the fucking shin?? Someone give him back Durge smh And let’s not forget the whole "no Bhaalspawn as incredible as you would ever bow to him" line GORTASH, I SWEAR TO— get a room eww I think, deep down, my Durge missed that connection—a connection she feels is already ingrained in her. I headcanon that even though she’s forgotten him, she naturally falls back into talking to him as if she was never amnesiac. Like, she quickly regains her mannerisms and behaviors around him. This means she goes from a bit nervous to completely confident when interacting with him. She easily slips into his "rules" and plays along, just like old times. I love picturing them sometimes just sitting there, mind-gaming each other purely for the fun of it, like they’re trying to make up for lost time. And then you’ve got the others in the room, sighing and saying, “It’s been two hours. Should we separate them already?”

[durgetavoc]

I like to imagine that sometimes, in the dead of night, Gortash wakes up suddenly, sweating after a nightmare, convinced for a fleeting moment that he’s still trapped in the House of Hope. Slowly, reality seeps back in—he’s just at home, far away from the Hells.

And Durge notices the restlessness; she’s grown used to this human having nightmares—just like her. But she feels protective because it’s unusual to see his typically calm and composed ally so troubled. She doesn’t say a word, though. Instead, she scoots closer and wraps her arms around him as if nothing’s wrong, holding him tight. It’s one of those rare moments where the two of them act like normal people toward one another.

And, in a way, it soothes Gortash. He’s never been held after waking from a nightmare before. Even as a child, his parents wouldn’t have cared—they’d probably think, “Why is this kid being so difficult?”

So, just this once, Gortash allows himself to be vulnerable. He lets himself melt into the embrace of the one person he’s managed to call a friend—and a lover. Even though their relationship is wildly chaotic, it feels good to savor this moment of peace, where neither of them are champions of their gods, but simply two people who care about each other.

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The crisis is awakened.

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It had been three months since he’d last seen her. Three months since she was presumed dead. Enver had always been a man who likes to plan things in advance., but nothing had prepared him for a life where she did not exist.

With a deep breath, he unfolded the scroll, his voice low as he recited the incantation. Magic shimmered in the air, pooling before him like liquid silver, then took shape.

She was there.

Her silhouette was exactly as he remembered—imposing yet elegant, her posture a perfect balance of regal confidence and quiet menace. Her eyes, gleaming like daggers, locked onto his, even though he knew they weren’t real. Even as an illusion, her presence was magnetic. His breath caught, and for a moment, it felt as though she might speak.

He leaned forward, his carefully maintained composure slipping as his voice broke the silence.

“You’re late,” he murmured, his tone a blend of bitterness and nostalgia. “I thought you’d be back by now. You always do.”

There was silence before he whispered to the magic, “Speak, please.”

The illusion shifted, tilting its head, the glint of amusement and menace dancing in her gleaming eyes. The voice was perfect, capturing the exact tone and cadence that had haunted his thoughts.

“Gortash,” she said softly, “have you grown lonely without me?”

Gortash let out a low, bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair.

“Lonely? I told myself I didn’t need anyone. I thought that was the point. Power, control. But you…” His voice softened. “You were the exception. You made all this chaos bearable. Thrilling, even. You… completed it.”

He stood, stepping closer to the illusion, his hand hovering near her face but never daring to touch.

“And now you’re gone. Torn from me by your recklessness, or by fate, or by damned Bhaal himself.” His tone grew sharp, laced with venom as he spat the name.

Gortash turned away abruptly, pacing as if to escape the weight of her gaze—though he had created it himself.

“You were supposed to be at my side.” His voice faltered briefly before hardening. “Ruling by my side. Do you have any idea what chaos you’ve left behind? The plans we built together—do you have any idea how fragile they are without you?”

The illusion didn’t flinch.

“Weakness, Gortash? That doesn’t suit you.”

Weakness? No. His expression hardened further as he turned back toward the illusion of Dark Urge, though a painful glimmer shone in his dark eyes. Especially as he realized the lack of expression in the assassin’s face, even in her voice.

“....”

No matter how perfect her image seemed, the illusion would never be her. She was nothing more than a distant echo now.

The illusion began to flicker, prompting him to take a step forward, hand outstretched.

“No. Stay.” It came out almost as an order, his fingers passing through her pale, hollow cheek. “I still have so much to say. And in just ten days… I’ll finally become Archduke, as planned.”

The illusion’s lips curved into a wry smile. She didn’t react, her image only shimmering. And yet, her smile softened into something softer—but it’s so unreal, so fake.

“I’m proud of you.”

She acted nothing like the Dark Urge he had loved. She was nothing like his nearest and dearest. And yet, Enver wanted to lose himself in this sweet illusion one last time. His arms passed through the phantom figure as he attempted to embrace her.

And the magical illusion slowly dissipated in his grasp.

The room fell silent, save for the faint crackling of the dying fire.

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The name. To put a name to a face is to hold power, according to Gortash. Ironically, despite Dark Urge being a close ally, he never managed to learn her name. Dark Urge is intensely secretive, living through nicknames and titles. Gortash had to make do with those.

But in his writings, he never calls her Dark Urge.

"Dear," "dearest," "the Bhaalspawn," "High Primistress," "Bhaal’s leader," and so on.

But never The Dark Urge. Because he respects her. He respects that the nickname, the one that makes Baldurians tremble, should not be linked to any letters or documents that could ever trace back to her. Even in their coded correspondence, he never uses it, despite them having designed the cipher together.

Did he ever learn his ally’s true name?

Of course. After years of patience, when their alliance had become something more official. It happened in an entirely unexpected moment because, by then, Gortash had stopped thinking about it. He had proposed an oath to strengthen their partnership further. She would swear as The Dark Urge, and that would be that.

Then, he heard her:

"I, __, swear that[...]"

She gave her name with so much confidence. Without hesitation. Taking their alliance with the utmost seriousness.

Gortash felt a bit foolish in that moment, caught entirely off guard. He looked at her and thought, “This—oh, this—is the kind of ally I’ve always hoped for. She is promising.”

And without even realizing it, already fascinated by her and her prowess, Gortash admires Dark Urge.

[durgetavoc]

Grieving her love

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Durgepast Calendar

Hellloooo! It’s December 1st, and I’m excited to introduce… the Durgepast Calendar!

What’s it all about? Well, once a day, I’ll post a question + an answer about Durge’s past (pre-tadpole only!). These are questions I gathered a looong time ago from various ask games (unfortunately, I can’t remember where they all came from :( ) along with some I came up with myself! And today’s lore is… Day 1 - Does she miss her adoptive family? She has never admitted it, but yes, she does miss her adoptive family. Her parents were kind, loving, and warm people who did everything they could to ensure she didn’t lack anything, despite their poverty. Their kindness left a deep impression on her. Dark Urge considers herself lucky that a few memories of them remain intact, even though the Urge that devours and influences her often overshadows everything else.

[durgetavoc]

Also, I finally got the infamous Morphic Pool Angst™ scene.

And damn.

Durge is just… broken. She feels like she missed something, like she failed somehow. "Maybe I should have told him to stay back," she thinks, but it felt so symbolic for him to come with her to stop the Netherbrain—to finish what they started. And then, to try to start over. Thanks to her companions and her own journey, she believes in second chances. She believed in him.

But when the Netherbrain began speaking, saying it respected Durge once but never respected Gortash, Durge’s heart sank. Anxiety churned inside her, a terrible premonition taking root. She wanted to tell him to run, just to get away, but—1) She was frozen. 2) She had to keep up her role as leader, focused on her target. 3) There wasn’t time, because the moment that thought crossed her mind, he was already gone. Dead. Instantly. At her feet.

The world had never felt so silent after that. A void tore open inside her, but she kept going, kept pushing forward. She had no choice. Even when the Emperor finally saved her and the group, she wasn’t really there.

And then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw his lifeless body, carried into the Astral Plane. She followed, and it was impossible to pull her away. As she knelt there, fragments of memories began flooding back.

And then it hit her— The breakdown.

For the first time, after the shock settled in, she truly sobbed for his death and said "I think I liked you too sorry". Overwhelmed by grief, regret, and memories. Even when her friends tried to reach her, pleading with her to come back to camp to rest, she refused to move. She stayed there, who knows how long, in that dimension. Staring into the abyss, as her butler might have put it.

Then came the anger. The rage.

She turned it into her new purpose. She took Gortash’s mantle, letting it become a physical reminder of her determination.

She would save the world, as promised, symbolically with him by her side. She would repair the mistakes of her past.

And maybe. Maybe she'll be in peace.