Beware its cold beauty. Beware its charm. Beware its curse. Above all, beware the pale noble, for the Vampyr cannot bear to be of the common folk.
How doth one protect from the Beast?
Walk not in blackest night, for the Vampyr loves these nights more than any other. If you must walk, do so by the light of our moon and take care. Carry the blessings and marks of your God at all times.
But remember, your home is your fortress, if protected well. If you hear a knock in the night, be wary. Let no stranger into your home. If it be a friend, look upon them. Do you find them pallid and wan? See you any mark upon their neck? See you any dirt upon their clothes? Unless their need is great, turn all away but the most trusted.
And if the Beast finds a way into your home, flee. Leave love and family behind. You will not save them if you fight. You will not see them again.
But they will see you, pale and smiling, calling them into the night.
so i noticed when playing the epilogue that illithid Tav wants to eat brains, but the specific part of the brain they want to eat depends on the character, so i looked through the parsed dialogue and compiled all of them!
which part of each brain a mindflayer Tav would savor:
Astarion: "Astarion's sweet brain may be less wrinkled than the rest, but you hunger for its teasing cells. His parietal lobe - which controls his sense of touch - will be an aphrodisiac in your maw."
Gale*: "You would save his temporal lobe for last, if you were to eat Gale. Language. Learning. Memory. He must have quite the fine example."
Halsin: "Every time Halsin speaks of balance, your thoughts cannot behave. You only dream of what his cerebellum tastes like, when it sends the signals to his vestibular system to keep him from wobbling."
Jaheira: "Weary Jaheira. Over time, her stresses may have shrunk her hippocampus, making its taste more intense."
Karlach: "You consider Karlach's brain stem - the stalk meant to regulate her body's temperature. Will it come pre-cooked?"
Lae'zel*: "Lae'zel's motor cortex - that which controls her fine movements - will be harshly disciplined. That will make her especially chewy - just how you like a cortex to be."
Minsc: "There are cruel rumours spread, that Minsc may once have suffered injury to his brain. You could set the slander right at last - tell the world every bite was perfect."
Minthara: "With all Minthara's hate, you wonder if her cerebro-spinal fluid will be bitter to sip?"
Shadowheart: "Think of Shadowheart's cerebellum, which controls her dextrous hands. Any ritual caster must have a tightly commanded hindbrain."
Wyll: "Wyll's frontal lobe, which processes his judgement and measured words, would be a delicacy befitting his nobility." (Or "fit for a Grand Duke" if that was his outcome.)
(*You can't eat god-Gale's or astral-projection-Lae'zel's brains.)
Halstarion- Astarion has been captured and not fed for a long period of time (months? years? obviously this is not canon) and Halsin is the one who finds him. No animals around, so Halsin lets him feed, despite Astarion being crazed with hunger. Does Halsin manage to get Astarion off before Astarion drains him, or do other party members have to help?
The hunger isn’t just gnawing at him, it’s consumed him. When Cazador starved him, Astarion was at least offered rats. What a strange place he’s come to, to wish for rats. But the Underdark offers not even the smallest relief. This dank hole is so unfit for life that not even the rodents dare mare their home here. Astarion’s first thought upon being chained in some deeper dark of the Underdark was that this is where all hope dies. And hope did die, but he won’t. He can’t. It doesn’t matter what he wants.
Astarion survives by giving up. He curls up on the cold floor and slips away. In the world in his head, he’s still on the surface, still standing in the sun. Sometimes everyone is there, and sometimes it's just he and Halsin. That infuriating mountain of an elf who promised he would always want Astarion to remain by his side. Astarion’s almost certain that he’d gone with him in the real world, once the brain had been destroyed but he wonders if he’s confused things.
It’s likely days have passed. Months. Astarion doesn’t know, but there's part of him that realizes that years could have passed. There’s no way to mark the passage of time. At first, he’d thought they’d found some way to ruin his eyes, to reduce his sight to a mere humans. But he’d quickly come to the startling realization it was just that dark here. Even the glowing mushrooms seemed to have forsaken this place.
They check on him at times. He hears them, and then the faintest glow illuminates the room almost unbearably. He’s caught glimpses of armor before the sound of stone closing deafens him. Astarion doesn’t even have a reason for why they’d taken him. When he realized they’d never answer his shouted questions or step close enough to put their necks beneath his teeth, Astarion stopped paying attention to them.
It’s why he doesn’t stir from his place on the hard floor when the stone moves behind him. At least not until the light that fills the room threatens to blind him. There’s screaming then, too, and then a cacophony of voices. Astarion struggles to cover his ears against the racket, and that’s when he realizes the screaming is coming from his own mouth.
He means to fight against the hands that grab him, that he’s certain of. But his body is no longer obeying his commands, it seems. Instead, he’s limp in someone’s arms. The arms are much too large to belong to the captors he’d seen. Too large to belong to anyone, he thinks half crazed.
There’s a much fainter glow beyond his eyelids; it still hurts, but it’s manageable… at least when his eyes are closed.
Whoever is carrying him has propped him up, his whole body leaning against something warm and solid. His mouth is all but pulled up, and something soft is shoved against is fangs. Astarion isn’t sure what to make of what’s happening. He’s not even sure this is actually happening.
Astarion’s body reacts before his mind understands. His mouth fastening to whatever had been placed in it, and he’s swallowing greedily before he even recognizes the metallic tang passing over his tongue.
Blood.
The hazy realization drives him to bite harder.
As the blood rolls down Astarion’s throat, it’s like his body is slowly coming alive again. For the first time in forever, he doesn’t feel like he’s lying beneath a giant stone, his body slowly regaining strength. Enough for his hands to grab onto the shoulders of whoever has him. His brain is clearing just a little, latching onto the fact that this is really happening.
The rest of his senses seem to come online next. He can smell the blood and the incredulous scent of pine, something so out of place here. Next, he can hear hushed voices in barely disguised panic from behind him. Astarion feels brave enough to open his eyes, just for a moment. He catches glimpses of glowing mushrooms, of a braid tangled in a mass of hair, of the glint of metal in the distance.
Another noise comes from beneath Astarion. More of a rumble than an actual sound. And then he realizes.
The scent of a forest. Arms too big to belong to someone. A braid.
It’s Halsin. Halsin is here with him. It’s Halsin’s blood rushing down his throat.
He tries to stop. Astarion swears he does, to unlatch his mouth once he understands he’s draining someone he care… someone he knows. But his body and brain seem to be at odds again and it’s not until something (someone) grabs at his shoulders that he finally lets go.
Astarion collapses back against whoever has grabbed him and manages to flick his eyes open long enough to see the bulk of the druid slide to the ground.
“I’m fine, I’m fine.”
It’s the first coherent words Astarion has heard this entire time. They’re said weakly, though insistently. He knows it’s Halsin warding off the concerns of whoever was with him, but he feels like the druid is speaking directly to him. Assuring him that he hasn't hurt him as badly as he fears.
Daily excerpt from today's writing, chapter 3 of Palmarosa:
‘I said I would give you a safeword, you understand what that is?’
‘Are you serious?’ Astarion said, laughing. ‘You do know who I am, don’t you?’
A frown line on that red forehead, and Astarion fell silent.
‘I don’t trust you not to abuse the privilege of my good will, so there will be a limit. You may use a safeword twice per tenday, or six times in total through the thirty days. That’s it. Any more and I will not credit them, and likely enjoy what caused them to be uttered even more.’
The House of Hope was warm, but it was ice that threaded its way through Astarion’s marrow.
‘I will, instead, offer you the mercy plea. Do you know what that is?’
Astarion’s lips pressed together. Raphael smiled before continuing.
‘It is when you cry the word ‘mercy,’ and I…take that under advisement as to whether I’ll consider taking it easy on you or not. I rather like the idea of you mewling the word beneath me, so you may say that as many times as you wish. Your safeword, by the way, is Temter.’
‘Don’t,’ Astarion said, before he’d even realised he was going to say it. Then he was standing, before he even knew he was going to do that. ‘Don’t you dare!’
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--- "i took my shirt off in front of you you one time. ONCE. now you're followin' me around like a lost puppy. so you either want me or you want to eat me. honestly i'm not sure which one is better."
