Baldur's Gate 3: Una decisión impulsiva acabó con 60 horas de partida en Modo Honor
El éxito de Baldur’s Gate 3 sigue generando historias épicas, pero también tragedias monumentales. La última involucra a un jugador que, a solo dos combates de completar la campaña en el despiadado Modo Honor, perdió todo por ceder a una tentación demoníaca. En un instante, 60 horas de progreso se desvanecieron, desatando una ola de reacciones en la comunidad.
El sueño roto en la Casa de la…
Gunna throw the July sketchdump out a little early because this might be my biggest pile this year!
Sorry @redacted-redd I borrowed your AU Raphlep because I felt like your Raphael would be more 'accepting' of Haarlep putting a collar and leash on him.
Anatomy practice under cut - I have just about as much of a clue as to what's going on as you do :')
(aka I don't have a clue)
Contemptuous Creatures; Chapter 27 'Fancy a Round of Lanceboard?'
Down comes the claw... The rest of this is on my ao3
Also dedicating this chapter to @redrose-alice who is always so sweet and supportive of this fic <33
~~~~ Baulder’s Gate ~~~~
The addition of Hope has been an unexpected change to this group's dynamic. Gale, Wyll, and Shaowheart have been airing on the side of caution when interacting with Hope, treating her delicately but kindly. Karlach and La’zel have been treating Hope as a warrior returned from a battle, with reverence and respect. Astarion has been keeping a distance from Hope, unsure of what exactly to make of her, and does not want to risk offending her lest he endure another punch in the arm from Karlach. It was clear to all the companions when Tav visited that Hope is important and that is reason enough for Hope to be important to them all. Hope can be a bit erratic but is an enthusiastic addition to the team. Even though everything she’s been through, it seems Hope is able to live up to the spirit of her name.
“Do you know Helsik well, Hope?” Gale asks as the team travels to the diabolist.
“She has seen me, and I her.” Hope says, “More than once, but she is not known to me well. It is Raphael we have in common. We all have Raphael in common. Everyone does.”
“A shame it is not a higher caliber of acquaintance, but the connection will be advantageous,” La’zel says. Hope nods in agreement.
“Though now, it seems we all have Tav in common as well!” Wyll says, “Hope, how are you finding Baulder’s Gate? Have you been before?”
“It is maybe the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Hope says, smiling up at Wyll, “I can almost not bear to look at it.”
“’Almost’ being the operative word there, I presume?” Gale says with a gentle smile, “Once all this business with the Absolute is straightened out- assuming we survive it- I would be most honored to host you at Waterdeep. I have a feeling you might enjoy meeting my Tressym friend, Tara.”
“I love Tressyms!” Hope says suddenly, “I remember that I once knew one! I think I did… it was all so long ago. But I did… we sat and read stories…”
“That sounds about right! Perhaps meeting Tara in the fur and feathers can jog your memory a bit more.” Gale says as the team approaches their destination.
“Focus now.” La’zel says to the group, “We must remain shrewd, for this diabolist is not a creature of charity.”
As usual, the diabolist is empty of patrions. Large skeletons of hellish creatures are displayed prominently along with other infernal paraphernalia. Wyll, La’zel, and Gale sneak a look towards Hope to see if this is going to upset her, but Hope does not so much as blink an eye.
Wyll is the one who approaches the desk,
“Well met. Helsik, isn’t it?” Wyll says in his signature gregarious way, charming smile ablaze.
“Oh bloody fucking hell.” Helsik says, hanging her head down, taking a deep breath and raising herself back up again with a practiced smile, “Well met! How can I help you today?”
“Erm. Hello.” Wyll says, caught off guard by the odd greeting for only a moment before recovering, “My friends and I have sought out your services before, once to go to the House of Hope-“
“We’re actually about to close for the day, loves. So sorry.” Helsik says, beginning to look panicked, “Family emergencies and all that; you know how it goes.”
“Chh’k!You have only just asked us how we might be helped by you.” La’zel asserts, “Surely no new emergency has arisen from the time you spoke to now.”
“Yes, well, proprietor's discretion, and all that.” Says Helsik with a hard look toward La’zel.
“Perhaps you remember me?” Gale tries, deploying his own charming smile to the eye roll of La’zel, “Several of my companions and I were here…”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do remember you.” Helsik says, “You owe me some gauntlets.”
“Well- yes. That. So, they’re in the process of being acquired…” Gale says
“Are they now?” Helsik says with a tight smile, “Last I saw the little thief assigned to that task, she seemed quite cozy down there, dancing with the devil himself. But rumor has it she’s not coming back for a while. And as I said, we’re closing for the day so--- Hope?! Is that you?” Helsik says, stopping in her tracks as her eyes find Hope.
“Helsik.” Hope says in greeting.
“Hope--- How?! When? What? How?!”
“Raphael’s mouse, Miss Tav got me free.” Hope says proudly, “Is it she who gets you the gauntlets? If she can free me, those gauntlets are as good as yours, no?”
“I don’t understand…” Helsik says.
“Then be silent and listen to the cleric.” La’zel says, putting a hand of solidarity on Hope’s shoulder, “Since it seems it is only she you will lend your ear.”
Hope briefly explains the deal Tav struck with Raphael that earned her freedom. Helsik’s jaw hangs open as she hears—if it were not Hope herself telling it, Helsik would never have believed Hope made it out.
“Lies.” Hope says, “The deal was struck after Mephistopheles retreated back to his deepest most horrible corner of the hells in shame. Tav is well, and we have to keep her that way.”
“Damn. Good for her.” Helsik says, clearly impressed, “But I cannot get you back down. I’m sorry.”
“Why not?” La’zel demands, “You have the required materials, do you not?”
“Nope. Fresh out.” Helsik says, clearly lying, “Maybe another time? Just go out the way you came in, yeah?”
“Helsik, please.” Gale says, “Let’s just talk for a ----”
Gale is interrupted by a thunderous rumble, shaking the entire ground. Everyone, Helsik included, run outside to see what was the source of the quake.
A small plume of smoke comes from near the shoreline, just where the Steel Watch Foundry is.
“They did it!” Wyll says proudly, “That was fast.”
“I have a feeling this might have been one of the rare occasions our dear Astarion did not dilly-dally.” Gale says playfully.
“I do not know this dillying dally of which you speak, but their deed is complete.” Says La’zel, “No doubt, they will be arriving here imminently. Now, proprietor Helsik,---” As La’zel turns to face Helsik, the team notices she must have slipped back inside the building.
“Helsik?” Wyll says, spinning around. He tries the door to find that it is firmly locked. The team disperses to see if there is any other open door around the building and are unable to find anything. They reconvene at the front of the building to come up with an alternative plan.
As predicted, it is only a matter of minutes before the team that was deployed to the Steel Watch Foundry arrives at the diabolist, covered in dirt, scratches and debris from the explosion.
“Well, we did our bit!” Karlach says happily, “Those stupid metal clangers have met their end. How goes it with you all?”
“We… erm.” Wyll begins.
“The diabolist has locked us out.” La’zel says.
“So it appears we have to do everything today, do we?” Astarion says, rolling his eyes and taking out his thieves' tools, “Let’s do this by the basement. It’s far less conspicuous.”
~~~~ Meanwhile in the House of Hope ~~~~
“Harleep, a word, if you please?” Raphael says sternly. Korilla has just let it be known that Raphael came to my friends' camp and told them I’ve been murdered by Mephistopheles.
A self-satisfied smile plays across Korilla’s face. Anger and confusion floods my chest and belly.
“Raphael, you told them I was dead?” I say, stepping forward. “When? How? Why?”
“Haarlep, a word. Now.” Raphael repeats sternly, ignoring me entirely, gesturing to the dismantled office for Haarlep to go into.
“No.” Says Haarlep, standing their ground, “Come, pet, let us take a break from all of… this, shall we?” Before much more protest from Raphael can occur, Haarlep grabs my wrist and teleports us away,
We find ourselves on the highest point of a rooftop, presumably of the House of Hope. Hot wind blows around us and we are surrounded by fierce churning sea of lava.
“Haarlep—what is this? What’s happening?” I ask, breathing heavily as the wind blows around us, and I find my footing on the roof. Haarlep is no longer covered in the dust and scratches from the fallout of whatever they were doing when locked in the office; they must have healed themselves during the teleportation.
“I am just buying us a little time, sweet one,” Haarlep says, holding my waist to steady me and touching my cheek, “It cannot be forever, but I want to speak to you without the watchful eye of this house’s master who may sway your judgment on this developing situation. He is looking for us now, but we can avoid him for a while more.”
“I don’t understand,” I say, speaking over the gusts of wind, “What’s going on?”
“Come, dear heart. Sit.” Haarlep takes my hand and leads me to the edge of the roof and motions for me to sit.
“Haarlep, do you know what Korilla was talking about? Raphael telling my friends I- that I’m dead?”
Haarlep sits down as lithely as a cat next to me and gently puts a hand on my arm.
“My dear, you trust me; do you not?” Haarlep asks me with their sweetest, most innocent eyes, “I brought you to your friends when you needed them most. I kept your secret from my master well against his wishes. I have been a fierce advocate for you, yes?”
“Yes, but I feel like this is leading somewhere…”
“I care for you, you know this. You are my pet, and I can keep you safe, better than and unlike anyone else. We have so much fun together as well!” Haarlep says with a wide smile, “Naughty or otherwise, our dynamic is one that has only begun to be explored!”
“Haarlep, please, tell me what is happening.” I do not want to fall for their charm; not now. There are far too many questions.
“I want you to hold those truths in your heart while I tell you what comes next. Can you do this?”
“Haarlep, why are we on a roof hiding from Raphael right now?” I ask, a little less patiently. Haarlep is buttering me up for something, and their attempts to cajole me are only making me feel suspicious.
“It was not Raphael who told your friends you had died.” Haarlep says, “But we cannot remain here; Raphael has caught your scent like a hound and will seek us here soon. Come, little one.” Haarlep holds my hand, and in another rush of fire and wind, we are deep under the House, where Hope was kept chained. I do not know if it’s true that Raphael is hunting us down or if Haarlep is trying to distract me from the bomb of information they just deployed.
“Haarlep—what do you mean? It was not Raphael?” I ask, looking around to get my bearings.
“It was I. I wore his form and went to see your friends.” Haarlep confesses. I pull my hand out of theirs to take a few steps back, taking this in. “I had to, darling girl!” Haarlep says defensively, “I had to see them, to know them myself! And my only intention is your safety, sweet Tav; it is of the utmost importance to me!”
“Haarlep I… I don’t know what to say.” I try to keep some distance between Haarlep and myself, but they keep approaching, so we are circling around each other slowly.
“That is quite alright, take your time to react!” Haarlep rushes to say. They take a large step forward and grasp my hands in theirs quickly. “You are a shrewd one, but still only a mortal. You cannot begin to understand the largest scope of the plans that are rolling along.”
“No, Haarlep, that’s not it,” I say sternly. I try to pull my hands away, but Haarlep is too strong. “You were wrong on this. You cannot claim to be my advocate and then betray me like this! You’ve hurt my friends, you hurt me with this! Why would you think this would keep me safe?!”
“Another change of location, my dear. Our Raphael is on the hunt.” Haarlep squeezes my hands tightly, and for a third time, we teleport. This time we arrive in Haarlep’s rooms, the glowing blues and greens of their Underdark-inspired décor surrounding us.
“Haarlep, please.” I say, steadying myself from the transport, “Tell me why you did this. Why would a lie like this keep me safe?”
Haarlep holds my shoulders while my footing is found before going to pick up their leather harness. “Would you like a glass of wine, darling?” They ask, as if we were in the middle of an entirely different discussion.
“What I want is an explanation,” I say. Haarlep stretches and flexes as they adjust their harness, and I wonder if they’re trying to distract me with their body. It would probably work if this subject matter were nearly anything else, but this is too significant. Haarlep goes to a small bar cart and pours two glasses of wine anyway and hands one to me. I keep my arms crossed over my chest to show I’m not falling for their tricks and they put the one intended for me down on the cart with a sigh.
“My dear Tav. The surface is… unpredictable. There are dangers I cannot protect you from there. If you stay here… with me. With us. Raphael and I, well, we can take care of you. He will calm down in time and us three can have such fun.” Haarlep speaks softly, sweetly. As if this is a perfectly reasonable line of thought.
“Haarlep, I’m not staying here. That was never the plan. It was me for the hammer, that’s it! I’m going back to the surface; it’s where I belong. I don’t need or want you to try to ‘keep me safe’—not like this!”
This seems to hurt Haarlep, they retract a little and cast their eyes downward. This stupid incubus knows how to pull at my heartstrings.
“Haarlep. I do not doubt your intentions are kind.” I say softly. Haarlep looks back up to me, “But you must understand; I cannot stay here. I do not want to stay here. I have a life on the surface- friends and adventures that I want to—that I have to get back to.”
“I have considered this, pet!” Haarlep says, “I have seen your friends again, and I have even gotten quite a good look; I cannot give you a perfect replica, but I can offer a most convincing visage!” Haarlep morphs into Karlach… or a version of Karlach. Her tattoos are wrong, she is too tall and her eyes are glowing as Haarlep opens arms that do not belong to them. I take a step back in horror, and Haarlep now is an altered version of Wyll… but the horns are not the right shape and his scars are missing from his face. Haarlep takes another step forward morphing into La’zel… but her lithe Githyanki body is too thick and humanoid. They are Gale now, but there is no faint purple marking from his eye to his chest and his smile is not quite right. Every step forward Haarlep takes toward me, I take one back, nearly tripping over a small seat by the pool. They melt into Shadowheart, but her scar is misplaced and her hair is wrong- her white bangs too long and tucked behind her ears.
“I can let you see your friends any time you’d like in this way, don’t you see?” Haarlep says, shifting at last to Astarion. The scars from where Cazador turned him are on the wrong side of his neck and the eyes are not the right shade of red, “Tell me what you want, my dear, and I can provide it for you.” Comes Astarion’s voice but Haarlep's prosody.
“Please, Haarlep, change back to yourself.” I say, eyes welling with tears. It’s too bizarre, too close to reality, but so, so far.
“I can make adjustments!” Haarlep-as-Astarion says, “The scar? Is it wrong? I know the spawn has markings on his back as well, but I do not yet know them…”
“Please, stop it,” I say, tears streaming down my face, “Please, Haarlep, I can’t take this.”
Haarlep-as-Astarion takes a deep breath and morphs back into their usual self as they get down on a knee, holding my hands, “You will grow accustomed to this, pet. You will grow to love it, even.”
There is a bang on the door with the force of thunder disrupts the moment. The door swings open and Raphael and Korilla enter. Raphael takes in the scene; Haarlep on bended knee, seemingly trying to comfort me. I’m wiping my tears away as quickly as possible, not wanting Raphael and especially not Korilla to see me like this. Korilla looks positively thrilled and is doing a poor job of trying to appear otherwise.
Raphael does not waste time casting a holding spell on Haarlep to keep them restrained. They are dragged away from me, infernal chains appearing on their throat, forearms, and ankles anchoring them to the ground.
Haarlep tests the strength of the bonds and is apparently no match for them in either muscle or magic.
“Raphael, can we not sit and discuss this?” Haarlep says.
“Such precious privileges were lost to you once you decided to abscond with Tav quite without my permission, Haarlep.” Raphael says. Another piece of infernal magic covers Haarlep’s mouth, silencing them, “And look what good your little game of cat-and-mouse did; you’ve only seemed to accomplish upsetting your little pet while leaving yourself without claws.”
Raphael faces me now, back facing Haarlep and Korilla. There seems to be an expression of genuine sympathy towards me for a moment. Raphael’s eyes are wide and assessing, landing on my wet cheeks. His hand flexes as if wanting to reach out to me before thinking better of it, and closes into a fist. I briefly imagine him wiping my tears, and I wonder if the same thought is crossing his mind…
“Here is what is going to happen now.” Raphael says, stepping back to address Korilla, Haarlep, and me, “Haarlep, you will be coming with me to visit our adventurers and explain to them exactly what you’ve done; that you had been parading as me and spilling lies all over the carefully laid plans of them and me both. I am then going to reinstate our original agreement with a single, beautiful caveat. Tav will be returned to them as safe as any once the hammer and a promise to relinquish the Crown of Karsus has been promised to me.”
“I’m going too.” I say firmly, “I’m going to see them. They need to know I’m alive.”
“I am afraid I cannot allow that, little mouse.” Raphael says, turning to me, “If they catch a glimpse of you, their tempers will cloud their judgment, and I fear for a fight. I would hate to have to kill them in front of you and disrupt your true chance at a reunion.”
“They won’t trust you without me,” I counter, “They’ll want proof I’m still here and alive. And I can keep them calm—they won’t fight if I ask them not to. Please. Can I come?”
Raphael hesitates for only the slightest of moments, opening his mouth as if to possibly allow this when he is interrupted.
“I will keep an eye on her here.” Korilla offers, stepping forward, “The adventurers would not be able to resist a fight if they saw her, Master. I heard them, saw their intent. Just as you said, you would have to kill them and in doing so, ruin your chances at acquiring the Crown.”
Raphael considers this and nods his head.
“Once your friends agree to my terms, you will have your reunion, little mouse,” Raphael says, “For now, we will keep you safe and sound down here.”
“But Raphael—”
“It would bring me no joy to have to slaughter your adventuring party, but a conflict would leave me no choice. It is a fight I would win.” Raphael says this without pretention or even satisfaction. When we first met, Raphael would have reveled in me being in this position but now it seems like there is a pang of regret.
My gaze moves from Raphael to Haarlep, chained and bound. Their expression is tense, looking between Raphael and me as if desperate to explain or try to charm their way out of this mess. I don’t know if I’m afraid of Haarlep, or for them. I wonder if my friends will attempt to harm them and I pray they don’t. I’m furious and conflicted with how Haarlep has tried to ‘keep me safe’, but I do not wish them harm. Well, maybe a slap across the face, but only from me.
“Korilla will be your guardian for the time being.” Raphael says, “You needn’t like this decision, mouse, but I cannot risk having you try to interfere.”
Raphael walks over to me and with the gentlest of touches, grazes my cheek with his knuckles, expression unreadably neutral, aside from his eyes resting on my lips for a short while. Behind him, in my periphery, Haarlep’s eyes glow frantically as they try to break free from their bonds.
“Come, Haarlep,” Raphael says suddenly, turning back to his incubus, “Let us not waste any more time in guaranteeing me what is rightfully mine. The wheels of fate are spinning ever forward to a glorious new era. Korilla, keep our prize safe.”
“Of course, Master.” Korilla says, “Worry not; I have everything under control from here.”
I cross my arms in frustration, but there is little more that can be done. I take a small perverse satisfaction in the fact that I know of Korilla’s newly reinstated mortal status, but I’m not going to do anything about it.
With a final inscrutable look at me, Raphael and Haarlep are gone in a brief blaze of flame leaving Korilla and myself alone.
“I don’t suppose you fancy a round of lanceboard?” I ask after a long awkward pause of Korilla glaring daggers at me.
She marches over to me in fury, anger clear in her face,
“You damned rat,” She hisses, jamming a finger at me “You think I don’t know what you’ve done? Your little deal with Raphael? I know everything that happens down here.”
“Careful, Korilla. A temper like that can wreak havoc on the mortal heart.” I say coldly. Korilla brings her hand back quickly and I think she might slap me. Instead, she speaks a phrase in Infernal and snaps her fingers.
For what feels like the hundredth time this tenday I am dragged through teleportation magic only, it hurts. Usually the fire of coming and going to the hells is a moment of extreme heat but it’s not painful, but this… this feels like my entire body is set ablaze.
I land roughly on the ground, the pain crippling me so I fall to my hands and knees, trying to shield myself from whatever this is. We are in a room… at least I think it’s a room. It could be a cave for all I know, for we are shrouded in shadow, a thick mist leaving nothing visible more than a meter away.
“What the fuck—where are we?!” I ask, breathless as the sharp, hot pain begins to ebb.
“Cania.” Says Korilla, who has landed just within my line of vision, but does not seem to be experiencing any discomfort. “You and I have one thing in common: we answer to a new master now.”
“Hello, little one,” comes a voice I know, albeit not well. Deep as thunder, it resonates in my bones and seems to be coming from all around me at the same time. I whip my head all around to find him. To prepare myself to fight him.
Do I like Raphael in glasses - Yes.
Do I think Haarlep would also suit those glasses? Yes.
Do I think I'm hilarious for giving Raphael perfect vision and Haarlep shit eyesight based on their stats (particularly Haarlep's 8 perception)
In case anyone is struggling to read my gibberish:
H: Hey Raph put these on a sec! HA! You look so old!
R: Haarlep - I have no need for spectacles and even if I did this prescription is far too strong
H: Wait- Holy Shit these things work?
R: ...Haarlep? Do you have poor eyesight?
H: Do I look cute?
R: Adorable - but I refuse to have my view skewed by those frames. I'm booking you an appoitment for contacts.
H: </ /3
Contemptuous Creatures, Chapter 26- 'A Word, If You Please'
All this and more on my Ao3! :) Full chapter under the cut!
“It's fucking freezing here and I hate it.” I say as I wrap the blanket more tightly around myself. I have been trying to sleep for over an hour now, but am kept awake by the unrelenting chill that permeates the air.
Raphael sits on the chair by the window, reading one of his books that he’s conjured to occupy his time while I sleep. Attempt to sleep, anyway. Each time I complain, turn over, or pull the blanket impossibly tight around me, I can practically feel Raphael smile. He reads by the light of a floating flame he’s also conjured, and the room is otherwise dark aside from the eerie glow of the blueish hue the snow reflects from the moon through the window.
“I offered to be your bedfellow,” Raphael reminds me, “I was told—what was it—to ‘jump up my own arse and take a whiff’? And they say the Lower City folk lack artistry…”
“Ughh.” I groan and pull the blanket over my head, “Fine, sit on the bed.”
“What was that, dear? I’m afraid you’re speaking into what passes for a mattress in this little hamlet, and I cannot hear you. From your diaphragm, if you please.”
“Sit on the bed,” I say through clenched and chattering teeth, lifting my head up so the words are clear, though I am certain he heard them just fine.
“Sit on the bed…?”
“Please.”
“Oh, well, if you insist. And with such fine manners, too.” Raphael says smugly. I feel the weight of him dip the mattress at the foot of the bed. The relief is instant, and I press my feet against his thigh.
“Can you make the blanket warm, like you did the coat earlier?” I ask.
“Of course I could,” Raphael says simply with no effort to make it happen. I consider asking with a ‘please’, but I get the sense Raphael prefers me using his body rather than his magic for comfort.
After about a minute, I have inched myself further and further to be close to Raphael’s heat that I am curled up like a pill bug, legs tucked in so my feet and bottom are by the devil’s leg. My face and shoulders are still frigid, and I am shivering frequently.
After another few minutes, Raphael slowly lowers himself down so he is lying beside me, head propped up on his hand. Half-asleep, I curl into him, my face in his chest. The warmth allows me to rest more fully. How unimaginably odd it is, for sleeping next to a devil to be the most comfortable thing I could do.
A hand rests on my hip, slowly trailing up and down the side of my body, from hip to shoulder. The hand grows a touch more bold, beginning to rub my backside, a little more insistent. A new hardness begins to assert itself against my belly.
I tense up. I’m finding I do not want to have sex with Raphael, not now. For one, I am exhausted, and secondly, there is an effect about being on the surface of Faerun that makes it feel more… real. This is where my friends are, my real lovers. It’s where Astarion is. Not nearby, of course, but on this reality, this plane…
But can I refuse Raphael? I haven’t ever tried or wanted to—each time we’ve touched, there’s been a clear desire, but that’s absent now. He won’t care, would he, if I told him ‘no’? He’s an archdevil of the hells, the son of Mephistopheles—he wouldn’t simply be denied something he wants, right?
“Shh, sleep now, little mouse,” Raphael says softly, lifting his hand from my rear and resting it on my upper arm, “Rest. You are safe.”
I pull myself back to look at him properly. Is this some kind of trick? He does not seem angry or annoyed as he looks down at me with a surprising softness,
“Of all the sins I commit, I do not take lovers who are not displaying their unrestrained desperation for me.” He says with a cocky, but reassuring smile, “You will crave me soon enough, and that is something worth waiting for.”
Raphael conjures his book and reading flame again, holding the novel open with one hand above me, the other still supporting his head as his attention drifts comfortably from me to his reading. A tension I hadn’t even noticed was there in my chest relaxes as I know he will not touch me against my will. I resent the odd feeling of gratitude I feel—it is hardly a kindness to not assault someone, but I admit I’m pleasantly surprised I didn’t have to so much as push his hand away or make an excuse. Less could be said of others I’ve lain with, and here, an archdevil can respect a boundary without issue.
I watch Raphael’s face read as I lie next to him, my feet pressed against his legs to warm up. He really is a handsome devil; a strong jaw and nose. Eyes focused on the lines of the story- he is not rushing his reading, he is really taking in the story, it seems. Illuminated in the soft light thrown by the floating fire, the contours of his face are striking.
“You aren’t expecting a bedtime story, are you?” Raphael says without taking his eyes from the page. The corner of his mouth tics up in a small smile.
“Not expecting, but I wouldn’t say ‘no’,” I say, adjusting my position to get more comfortable. Raphael turns to me.
“If I read to you, will you put away those dreadful puppy-dog eyes of yours?”
“Dreadful?!” I say, pushing his arm a little, “How dare you- I’m adorable.”
“You are, and it’s…nauseating at times,” Raphael says, nose scrunched as if there is an unpleasant smell.
I burst out laughing at the earnestness with which Raphael says this. At my laughter, Raphael’s face softens, and he laughs as well. We settle into a comfortable silence for a while.
“Raphael, are we… friends?” I ask, “Or are you just using me to get this Crown?”
Raphael closes the book and puts it down,
“I do not see why one would negate the other. Friends use each other frequently, do they not?”
“Not for total control over the hells, no.” I say, “Friends do things like cook for each other and stand up for each other in conflict. And it can’t be just one way, it has to be balanced.”
“Once the Crown is in my hands, I could grant you anything you desire.” Raphael says, “Perhaps even freedom from your last two debts to me”
“That ‘perhaps’ is doing a lot of heavy lifting there...” I say, and Raphael laughs gently, affirming that what I said was accurate.
“Clever girl.” He praises, and I feel a familiar surge of warmth deep in my belly. Damn this creature’s velvet voice.
“What makes this crown so important anyway?” I ask, trying to distract myself, “Aren’t you powerful enough?”
“The Crown of Karsus, forged with potent Netherese arcana, could allow its owner to conduct magic free from the Weave and Mystra’s reaches. It sat as little more than a useless artifact in the basement vault of Mephistopheles for more than a millennium before it was recently stolen. Once I take hold of the Crown, not only will I wield its powers, but I will rightfully ascend to the level of Asmodeus himself.”
“Okay, well that’s not going to happen.” I say, flopping onto my back, “I think the Crown should get back to Mystra where she can keep an eye on it. Or better yet, be destroyed.”
“We shall see,” Raphael says lightly, looking down at me, “Your companions seem to care for you greatly; I’m confident they would do nearly anything to ensure your safety.”
“Is that a threat?” I ask, eyebrow raised.
“When I threaten you, you will know it.” Raphael says, “I only mean that their imaginations are surely running wild with all the horrible, depraved things I could be doing to you.”
Another stirring deep in my belly forms as our eyes meet for a long moment. I think for a moment he might kiss me. Or that I might kiss him.
“Go to sleep, little mouse. You are a terrible distraction.” Raphael says with a degree of fondness, pulling his book back out and flipping to the page he was on earlier.
“Good night, then.” I say, with a confusing mix of disappointment and relief. Part of me does want to climb on top of him and throw his book against the wall… but I think if I do, I’d regret it. I’m tired and cold and Raphael is right- I’m not craving him the way I usually do. While we’re the surface, all I can think about is the faces of my friends. They’re close now, but so far away…
I close my eyes and try to focus on my breathing, shutting out other thoughts. Sleep comes slowly as I inch ever closer to Raphael to combat the chilly air. At some I am being held in one of his arms, my head resting on his bare chest, my arm wrapped around his middle. He must have taken his outerwear off, for he is only wearing his thin white undershirt.
Half-asleep and with the soft firelight glow from the reading flame, I feel as if I’m back at camp. There is no heartbeat keeping time under my head, but that feels familiar too, as if I were lying with Astarion. The heat of Raphael’s body is not unlike Karlach's. The soft sound of pages turning could just as easily be Gale… I close my eyes again and sleep deeply at last.
Sunlight cascades into the room, waking me up. I am fully wrapped around Raphael, arms and legs while he is now reviewing what seems to be Infernal contracts floating above him still. The arm I’m resting on is lazily stroking my back as if lost in thought but stops once he realizes I’m awake.
“You snore, you know.” Raphael says without looking away from the floating parchment as I blink my eyes open.
“Yeah, I’ve been told that before.” I say, groggily sitting up and stretching my arms above my head. The air is cool, but refreshing after hours spent next to Raphael’s extreme warmth, “Good thing you don’t sleep.”
“I couldn’t if I wanted to. Your nasal cacophony will not be ignored. I pity your companions.” Raphael says playfully, “I assume Astarion is the one you lay with the most? His was the name you called most frequently during the night.”
I feel my cheeks turn pink, though I can’t quite place why. Perhaps it’s because sleeping chastely next to Raphael was the most intimate thing we could have possibly done. Maybe it’s because I’m embarrassed that he gained some insight into my unconscious mind. I’m not surprised I said Astarion’s name out loud. I’ve been avoiding thinking of him, swatting away his face appearing in my mind like an insistent gnat. It aches too much to dwell on. Our last meeting, making love- truly making love, not just fucking was… perfect. So lovely and affirming, it was possibly one of the biggest mistakes I’ve ever made. We were so close to getting to a fully platonic place-- well, I was anyway. I think Astarion’s already gotten there, but I got pulled right back into my little infatuation.
I mentally swat Astarion’s face away again now as it forms in my mind, swat away my urge to know what he is doing, if he is safe.
If he’s thinking of me, too.
“You have something of a ‘type’, perhaps?” Raphael says, interrupting my thoughts.
“What do you mean?”
“Beautiful, cruel, and soulless.”
“He’s not cruel or soulless!” I snap, standing up and stepping away from the bed, “You don’t know him.”
“Forgive me, I did not mean to strike such a nerve,” Raphael says, and as angry as I feel, I believe him. I believe he didn’t intend to irritate me, but I feel just so protective of Astarion, especially when he’s not here to advocate for himself.
I straighten out my clothes and try to fix my hair a bit in the mirror, as it’s been mussed over the course of the night, and try to ground myself in the moment. Raphael stands as well, fetching his jacket and brushing it off. He is inspecting the garment as he says,
“Your vampire is… fortunate to have someone like you.” The words sound forced but sincere, as if they are in a language Raphael is newly learning. I turn to Raphael, who looks composed, but almost too much so, as if he is forcing a neutral posture and expression while he adjusts the sleeves.
“In what way?” I ask, wondering if I could wrangle a direct compliment out of him.
“Don’t push it.” Raphael says with a playful sneer, buttoning up his doublet, “Come, we will get you fed before preparing to see our darling, dear Haarlep. I am sure they are most anxious to see you.”
Raphael and I sit and eat a breakfast of unfathomably salted herring, which is, apparently, the local delicacy. The attentive innkeeper watches as I try to choke down the overly salted fish on toast with a smile. Raphael orders a second helping on my behalf to the delight of the innkeeper and horror of myself. I quickly request for it to be packaged so I can ‘savor it later’ and Raphael orders a third helping for the road so I can have the second helping now. I kick him under the table but manage to finish the second dish under the careful eye of the kindly dwarven innkeeper and my hellish companion.
“Thank you for visiting!” Says the kindly innkeeper as Raphael and I walk toward the exit of the building, “You two lovebirds have a great day! Is it a long journey home?”
“It’s a ways south.” Raphael says slyly, “Take care, now. The little missus and I will be sure to visit again soon.”
Raphael steers me away from the view of the innkeeper and out the door quickly before anyone could see me pretend to gag.
“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” I ask.
“I have my moments.” Raphael says, “Are you ready, my sweet?
I take one last inhale of the uncomfortably freezing, but undeniably Faerun air before nodding my head. In a sudden whoosh of heat, we descend back down to the depths of hell.
~~~~~ Back at Camp ~~~~~
“Alright,” Wyll says as the companions gather at first light to make a plan for the day. “We cannot ignore the threat of the Steel Watch any longer. Every day they march forward into a tyrannical rule from which our Bauldarian’s must be free. At the same time, we have to find out the truth about Tav, once and for all. La’zel and I have come up with a plan to divide and conquer.”
“To the foundry to dismantle the Steel Watch, we need a combination of stealth and power. For this team, we are going to have Karlach, Shadowheart, and Astarion.” Protests are already forming, and Wyll raises a hand to indicate silence for another moment. “To the diabolist will be myself, La’zel, and Gale.”
“I’m going to the diabolist,” Astarion says firmly.
“We need your stealth to get into and move around the foundry, Astarion. This isn’t negotiable.” Says Wyll, just as firmly.
“I want to go to the diabolist too,” Shadowheart says. Wyll runs a hand over his face in frustration.
“You should not have done such a poor job the last time you were in the hells then.” La’zel snaps back, “It was your team that allowed for Tav to be caught in the devils claws, was it not?”
“But Gale can go again?” Astaion protests indignantly.
"What, exactly, are you insinuating?" Gale demands, hands on his hips.
“Listen up!” Wyll says forcefully, and the camp turns to him, “We are playing with strategy, not feelings. You were chosen for your assignment because that assignment needs you. You are all smart, strong, invaluable members of this team. Assignments are not up for negotiation, and any further arguing is just more time we sit here without answers and without the Netherstone we need. Are we understood?”
A grumble of acceptance passes through the camp. Karlach catches Wyll's eye and mouths a silent “thank you” for her placement. Of course, she would go to the hells again for Tav if it were necessary, but it’s a relief to beat up these big steel baddies instead for the time being.
“I… I could help. I want to help.” Says a voice from behind the adventurers, pulling all their attentions. Hope emerges from the tent Tav had once held. “Can I help you?”
“I wish to help as well.” Says Halsin, who had been brewing tea for the crew and is now passing mugs and cups along for everyone, “Those metal contraptions are an affront to nature. It would be a pleasure to tear them apart.”
“You needn’t feel obligated—” begins Wyll,
“But we do. I do, anyway. I will not speak on behalf of Hope.” Halsin says, gently smiling at Hope and handing her a cup of tea, “The urge to cause destruction does not find me often, but it has here, seeing those… wretched things stomp around the city.”
“I want to help too. I can heal, I am a healer. You have a healer already, but there is more than enough hurt to go around.” Hope says with a stressed sounding laugh.
“Alright, you two can join the Foundry team,” Wyll says, not wanting to place Hope in the diabolist team.
“Are we not going for subtlety and stealth?” Astarion asks with an arched eyebrow, “That’s hardly going to be accomplished if we bring along a party that rivals the Circus of the Last Days. Perhaps we should invite Lucretious along as well?”
“I did like her,” Karlach says.
“She did have a certain panache, didn’t she?” Astarion agrees, trailing away from the conversation at hand.
“Oh, for the love of the Gods, can’t you two focus on anything?” Complains Gale in near unison with La’zel.
“I’ll go to the diabolist.” Says Hope, turning all faces back to her.
“No, Hope, you don’t need to do that.” Says Karlach, approaching Hope, “You can go to the foundry or stay here, but you’ve only just escaped from hell.”
“I know Helsik. She knows me. We both know Korilla. And Raphael. It could be good… I could be good.”
“Why not stay here and rest?” suggests Wyll, “You’ve been though enough…”
“I CAN HELP!” Hope shouts, with a sudden rush of anger that surprises the group, “I was trapped, chained in a state of not-doing and now I want to do!! Miss Mouse would do! She does! I can too, and I’m going to Helsik and I don’t care if you don’t want me to or not. You can’t stop me.”
The ferocity of Hope is unexpected, but in a way that seems to inspire the team. It seems all of the companions were pitying Hope for what she’s been through, but pity isn’t what this cleric wants or needs. She needs to be empowered.
“You heard her.” Halsin says with some pride, “She’s going to the diabolist.”
~~~~~ Back at the House of Hope ~~~~~
Raphael and I arrive in the House of Hope in another fiery blaze. My heart aches to leave the surface but the heat here is far more comfortable than the frozen tundra we were just in. We arrive in the portal room, and I immediately begin to walk towards the office where Haarlep is being kept.
It’s only a few steps before I remember I’m tethered to Raphael, who is taking his sweet time walking. I try pulling him forward, but to no avail. My feet slide as I try to drag Raphael ahead,
“For gods’ sake, would you come on?” I demand trying to get to the office
“I do not rush for anyone, especially the gods. Though your efforts are both valiant and entertaining.” Raphael says, taking deliberately slow steps. I release a frustrated exhale and wait for him to catch up. We walk at a damned snail's pace and eventually are led to the office.
Smoke is curling up from the gap between the door and the floor, and it smells of smoke and burned wood.
“Haarlep?” I call out once we’re in hearing distance, “Haarlep, are you there?”
“Pet!” Comes Haarlep’s excitable voice, muffled from behind the door, “Pet, it’s you! Do please tell Raphael to let me out, would you, my dear one?”
We finally approach the door, and I look at Raphael expectantly to unlock it. After a dramatic flourish of adjusting his sleeve, Raphael passes his open palm over the door, and it unlocks with a mechanical-sounding click.
A burst of smoke emerges with Haarlep as they exit. Haarlep is naked and covered in soot and scratches, looking like they were just in battle. They rush over to me, looking over my body and face,
“You are well? Safe?” Haarlep asks, eyes wide, gently touching my cheek. Their hair is wild, tangled around their horns and falling accross their face. Somehow it only makes Haarlep more attractive.
“Yes, and are you--?”
The second thing Haarlep does is turn away from me, lift Raphael by the neck and slam him against the wall. In his human form, Raphael is significantly smaller than Haarlep, and his legs do not quite reach the ground, dangling below him. Raphael’s face remains unperturbed hands steadying on Haarlep's strong forearms.
“I did not like your game, Raphael.” Haarlep hisses, nose to nose with Raphael.
“If you thought this was a game, perhaps you need a bit more time to reflect...” Raphael says with a smug smile.
I take a peek into the office, and it appears to have been entirely charred. Furniture has been thrown and damaged, and small flames are still burning across the room. It looks like a dragon had been released in there.
Haarlep sneers and tosses Raphael down the hall a small ways as easily as a rag doll. I am tossed along with him, bound by our invisible tether.
“Apologies, pet!” Haarlep says, rushing to catch me, just before I hit the ground, “Please forgive me!” Haarlep casts some spell, and I feel the tether release. Haarlep helps me stand, and Raphael, who has changed into his cambion form just before crashing into the ground, stands on his own.
“I do hope you’ve gotten this out of your system, Haarlep. I do not wish to fight with you right now.” Raphael’s shoulders are squared; he is clearly irritated that Haarlep is not displaying contrition. Haarlep does not seem to have gotten their anger out of their system as they match Raphael’s posture. Chests are puffed out, arms are flexed, and fists are clenched. I would be a liar if I said I wasn’t intrigued by this brutish display of power…
“Master, an update.” Comes a different voice. Korilla approaches from the other side of the hall behind Raphael, and we all turn to look at her, “Unless now is not a good time…”
Korilla looks between Raphael and Haarlep, throwing me a small hateful glance as well, which is returned. Bitch.
“No, your timing is most opportune, Korilla.” Raphael says, dusting off his doublet, “What news from our young adventurer friends?”
“You saw them?” I ask Korilla, “Were you spying?”
My mind is flooded with contradictory feelings. Fury that Korilla was watching my friends without them knowing, jealousy of her being near to them, and a desire to know for certain they are well.
“Yes, mouse.” Korilla says in a patronizing tone, “That is very much my job. Do you have any other inane questions?”
I resist the urge to make a rude gesture and settle on a glare and crossing my arms over my chest. Haarlep comes to stand next to me, a large hand on my shoulder. I’m surprised with how much I’ve missed Haarlep- their presence really is grounding and I let myself melt a bit into their touch.
“Go on, Korilla.” Raphael urges,
“Another Netherstone has been acquired. The one from the Bhaalspawn, Orin. The six are preparing to get Gortash’s stone within the tenday.”
Pride and relief bloom in my chest, unfurling wildly. ‘All six’, Korilla had said- that means they’re all alive. And furthermore, getting the stone from Orin is such an accomplishment. I could cry for how glad I am to know this and Haarlep’s hand squeezes me lightly and happily before pulling me toward them.
“Very good.” Raphael says approvingly, “The conditions for negotiation are ripening perfectly.”
“There is another thing,” Korilla says with a glare towards Haarlep and myself, “the adventurers seem to have been under the impression that your mouse is dead.”
Raphael’s face tenses and his eyes narrow, “And how, may I ask, did they come to this impression?”
“They said you told them yourself, Master. That you visited their camp and told them Mephistopheles killed her. Apparently, you told them the entire deal was off; the mouse for the hammer.” Korilla says matter-of-fact.
“Haarlep.” Raphael says with a chilling calm, glowing eyes flashing to his incubus, “A word, if you please.”
This young bard was so easy-going that Haarlep sometimes wondered if their perfect interactions were due to their bad tempers, or because Haarlep might have accidentally fathered him with God knows who. He gave the latter option slightly less thought, attributing it to Dorian's rebellious nature.
Dorian Allan Gray, as he liked to pompously call himself. This only made Haarlep tease him more, affectionately calling him "Little Dorian." He didn't take offense. Haarlep quite naturally received "Lep-Lep" or "Little Haarlep" in response.
Once again, he came to their camp, far from everyone else, to visit his "unspoken child," and brought various little things with which they could relax.
"Horns cleaning kit?" Dorian wagged his tail enthusiastically.
"Ah, I know you weren't expecting much, little mouse. But during your travels… Just look at this."
The incubus placed his palms on Dorian's shoulders and sat him down on a soft ottoman in the tent.
"Where did you manage to get them so dirty? And this? They don't even shine."
"Ah, I thought playing the pine tree in the moonlight was a good idea. I fell pretty fast too. My tail still hurts," Dorian straightened his blue hair.
"Yeah… You didn't feel sorry for your violin, did you?" Haarlep gracefully placed his hand to his face.
"My reputation in the camp was on the line!" the tiefling protested indignantly.
Haarlep merely clucked his tongue. Young and still a bit foolish, though ambitious and amusing. He picked up the tweezers and began pulling tiny needles out of the tiny crevices in his horns with a concentrated look.
"You probably just had an argument with Astarion… My dear. Am I right?"
"Well, that was true! So, everyone should have known about my talent! And the treetop was the best place to show it off. Besides, the sound came better from there."
Judging by the way his tail began drumming on the ground, Haarlep had hit the base of his horns, where he began to lightly file them away, brushing off excess dirt. Dorian stuck out his tongue like a little dog, enjoying himself.
"Go on, justify yourself further, little mouse," the incubus grinned, looking at all this. "But you really are talented! I like your music."
Dorian's spirits brightened even more. Of course, praising him and giving him approval… How familiar. He works with both tieflings and devils. After all, he often praised Raph's poetry. It's hard to say who will suffocate the other with their pathos.
"I will become the most famous bard in Faerun, and my songs will be sung for centuries to come!"
"Well, naturally," Haarlep gently squeezed him and examined his horns from all angles. The excess dirt had been more or less removed; all that remained was to wipe off the water and polish them a little.
"I'll even dedicate a melody to you," Dorian promised. "I already have some ideas for that."
"I'll be looking forward to it."
The horns were perfectly polished with a special oil and literally sparkled with cleanliness.
"That's much better," Haarlep commented, about to leave, but Dorian grabbed his wrist.
"Wait. Stay for now. They won't even know you're here."
Examining himself in the mirror and realizing he looked luxurious and aristocratic, as he should, he picked up the bow and violin.
"I'm intrigued," the incubus said fondly. "Go ahead."
Now he sat down on the ottoman, his wings folded in a relaxed manner. Dorian began to play. At first, the melody seemed ordinary, even typical for any bard. But Dorian wasn't "any bard," so the leisurely low notes suddenly began to give way to a sharpness, as if the melody were becoming dangerous, as if a piercing weapon were piercing the very heart, and the fast tempo only added to the atmosphere.
"Oh, beautiful, beautiful!" Haarlep exclaimed sincerely, clapping him. "What did you call this melody?"
"The Devil's Trill," Dorian blurted out proudly. "Do you think Raphael will like it?"
"Of course he will!" "Haarlep's eye almost twitched, but he maintained his composure. "How could anyone not like such a talented person? He'll be simply enchanted by you, little mouse."
If they had a child, it would definitely be Dorian, with his perfect combination of a desire for approval from important people and a chatty tongue that eventually even managed to confuse Haarlep himself. Truly the devilish charm of Mephistopheles' tieflings.
"But the next song, with lyrics, will definitely be yours!" Dorian promised pompously, but Haarlep no longer truly believed it, simply waved it off, as if to say, "Yes, of course, you're a clever one, baby boy."
"Thank you, Dorian," the incubus narrowed his eyes with the slightly venomous smile he usually reserved for his victims. Dorian will, of course, bring home the crown and dance for "daddy" Raphael. What kind of release from the contract can we possibly talk about here, of course? As always, no one would help him. "By the way, will you clean my horns too? I'm soooo lazy doing it myself…"
Dorian, with his sweet smile and contented expression, sat closer to Haarlep, his tail intertwined with his. His heterochormic eyes perfectly conveyed his true, two-faced nature, which, for the sake of what it desired, would sing.
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