Discover Top Posts Tagged with #oc clandestine

They're busy contemplating the minutia of death cult office politics. 🤭

#bg3 #durge #durgetash #enver gortash #ketheric thorm #3d art #fanart #oc clandestine #babygirl isn't too busy for kissing

"I have, the one and only, 24 karat gold Gortbubu" Been absolutely cackling about this piece from Pinkpoms on vgen 😭🤣

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #durgetash #enver gortash #the dark urge #female durge #fanart #oc clandestine

Happy Valentine's Day❤️🗡️

In the city’s backstreets, Gortash and Dark Urge Clandestine meet in a moonlit courtyard for a little romantic tryst. They stand pressed together in the hush of the night, his gauntlet hand circling her throat as he draws her in for a kiss. She tilts her face up to him, lips parted in a sharp, delighted smile, leaning into his familiar grip of posession. Behind his back, his other hand clutches an ornate, curved dagger of Bane-green steel, adorned with Bhaalist imagery. A gift? Her swept horns and dark, scaled armor shimmer with the silver wash of the moon and the warm, flickering glow of nearby lanterns. Between them, their netherstones answer one another in faint glowing pulses; his flashing at her throat, hers burning within the blood-red dagger hidden behind her own back. A threat. His breath ghosts over her lips, the scent of forged steel and rosewood clinging to his coat, mixing with the vanilla on his skin. He lingers. Savoring the flutter of her pulse beneath his thumb. Longing coils beneath her skin, hot and eager, answering the reverent focus in his eyes. Finally, their mouths meet, rough and hungry, with breaths and sharp teeth.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #durgetash #enver gortash #durge #the dark urge #female durge #fanart #oc clandestine #3d art #flash fiction

Pave my path with corpses. Build my castle with bones.

#durgetash #gortash #durge #bg3 #patch 7 #dark urge x gortash #dark urge #oc clandestine

Durgetash Week Day 4 - Masquerade

You shouldn’t be this late. That’s the only thought hammering through your skull as you sprint up the steps of the Ducal Hall, the perfumed invitation crushed in your hand. The paper still carries that strange scent; vanilla and something warm beneath it… some kind of wood? You’ve reread the message so many times the ink feels etched into your memory. A personal request from Lord Enver Gortash. Your presence is desired. Desired. Ridiculous. And yet… here you are. The ballroom swallows you whole the moment you slip inside: golden light, mirrored walls, masked patriars drifting like ghosts made of silk. You’re suddenly aware of your own breath, too shallow, too fast. You don’t belong here. You know that instantly. Then you look up. Gortash is standing near the center of the hall, regal and impossible, mask sculpted to perfection. And beside him… her. A tiefling woman in midnight blue, horns crowned in delicate bone, gaze sharp enough to peel you open. She doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, just studies you with a slow, deliberate curiosity that freezes you in place. Your stomach twists. Why you? Why tonight? Why this invitation? This attention? You force your feet forward, every step feeling like you’re walking deeper into someone else’s story, one you haven’t been told the ending of. Gortash watches your approach and when you stop in front of him, he smiles, warm, familiar, unnerving in his certainty. “Ah! Tav, dear!” Your pulse stutters. Before you can answer, the faintest shift of air brushes the back of your neck — someone behind you. Someone who moved without a sound. You didn’t see her leave Gortash’s side. You didn’t hear her cross the floor. You never even felt her approach. But you feel her now. And you feel the dagger at your back. Her voice curves around your ear in a low, delighted whisper, like velvet across your skin; a hunter about to devour her prey. “We’re going to have so much fun tonight.”

@bloodsweatandtyranny

#durgetashweek2025 #durgetash week 2025 #durgetash #bg3 #enver gortash #3d art #oc clandestine #durge #fanart

Durgetash Week Day 7 - Free Day (Mythology & Folklore)

I really wanted to do this prompt when we were voting for them so I saved it for free day ❤️

Sunlight pooled where the ceiling had fallen in, striking the dark water and sending pale ripples of brightness up the pillars. The temple sounded hollow now: the soft slap of water against stone, the occasional drip from a crack overhead, the faint rasp of scales moving across the floor. They were the only living sounds left. Save for her. At the edge of the water knelt a man who would never move again. His likeness was flawless in stone: chiton rendered in careful folds, head tipped up. One hand hovered, fingers spread, parted forever from the hand that could have been reaching back. The arrow jutting from her ribs swayed with each movement, a narrow axis her whole body pivoted around. She wrapped around him in anguish, tail looping his legs, pressed to cold stone. Coils tightened by instinct, anchoring her. Behind them, other stone figures stood: her assailant’s bow still drawn, arms up hiding a face, hands lifted in a stalled plea; already thin in her memory. What stayed was her turn toward approaching steps, fear bright in her eyes, his features fixing as marble climbed his skin. Him. He adored her first as a rumor. A monster in a forgotten temple, a pair of eyes no one returned from. Yet still he came, at dawn, at dusk, leaving figs and wine and clever little offerings. His voice had followed, days later, from behind columns she could not risk looking around. Warm. Amused. Talking of the city, of petty men and smaller gods, of everything except the horror that lived in this hall. Visit by visit, it was him she began to wait for. His footsteps on the worn path. The pause before he settled on the far side of the wall, close enough that she could answer without turning, that she could almost pretend they sat together. Today, he came too late. Her body moved before the words reached her, before she recognized the shape of his shadow. By the time understanding dawned, his outstretched hand was already turning to stone. Now, she was alone at her end. The Gods were cruel.

@bloodsweatandtyranny