For Astarion, it's an almost-normal morning at the camp.
But his search for a fresh vial of blood will soon turn into an epic adventure with both friends and foes from Baldur's Gate 3.
A fanfic for the discerning reader, accompanied by AI images for...
Into an unlit hallway. It lacked details, as if whoever made it couldn't bother... certainly not a part of the original Moonrise Towers. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he spotted clumps of trash, and a heap of... cadavers. The dead were of different races and looked dried up, almost mummified... Victims of some dark ritual, possibly. The stench made his eyes water. He continued, taking careful steps in case there were undead lurking in the dung. The noise of battle, faint behind the stone wall, grew louder after he took a corner. A smaller pile of corpses lay nearby, older based on their poor state and fainter odor. Just how long was Balthazar scheming there, and for what purpose?
The next bang almost made him jump. It was nearby—he could feel the vibration on the floor, and coming from a wall part to his left. It might've been thinner. Astarion felt the rough surface... Yes, those stones were different, potentially good for making a peephole, if only... One was crumbling. He used his dagger to dig through, and then, rubbing his hands, put his eye to it.
A great hall lay on the other side. The illithid force had gathered before two great steel doors. Astarion leaned on the stones, trying to see better. About two dozen remained, and Six Sahuagin were carrying an iron ram whose tip glowed with magical power. When they smashed it against the doors, their surface shimmered and flashed like a Mage Armor spell. The siege seemed futile, but mind flayers weren't dumb—ugly, yes, but not dumb. That creature must've had a plan.
The view moved suddenly, shifting right as if the entire castle spun around... No, it was him. He gazed with dread at the floor, which finished rotating along with the wall part. He'd been leaning on a secret passage and somehow triggered its mechanism.
Now he was standing like an idiot, fully exposed to the Sahuagin force. Two enemy drow spotted him. They pointed and shouted to their master, the illithid in the robes with the golden epaulets.
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Solid shit on a salami stick! Astarion reached for Gale's scroll of Invisibility. The dark elves aimed crossbows at him while several fishy bastards ran in his direction, hissing and raising spears. Arcane symbols disappeared off the enchanted parchment as he recited each word, ignoring a javelin that bounced off the wall to his right, and sidestepped left, dodging a steel bolt. Two words left—sharp pain cut into his shoulder. Another sharp projectile, but the hit left a mere graze thanks to Shadow's protective magic. He spoke the final words, eyes following the approaching Sahuagin... And vanished.
The slimy buggers could still smell and hear him, though, but that's what the smokepowder bomb was for. He leaped to the side, performing a dive-roll while the charging fish-folk stabbed at empty air, and tossed the grenade. It smacked into an attacker's face, sending him reeling into his friend, and exploded.
When Astarion's eyes refocused and his ears stopped ringing, a smoky black cloud surrounded him. More crossbow bolts flew around, thankfully missing, and another javelin clanged on the floor. The noise of approaching enemies pushed him to act—invisibility couldn't protect him from an entire army. He needed an exit. Running past the smoke, he spotted a torch-lit hallway behind the mind flayer's force. It seemed like the only way out, but could he fool everyone to attack in the wrong direction?. He dodged a charging drow, nearly tripping, and ducked under a sword that another swung randomly in the air. A distraction was sorely needed. His pockets contained empty vials, lock picks, and coins... precious, but less than staying alive.
He threw a bunch of gold and silver straight behind. The coins glinted as they reappeared, and clinked on the stone floor. They proved a good enough misdirection for two Sahuagin to shoot at the noise. Their bolts nearly hit a chasing drow, further contributing to the chaos.
But then the stupid tadpole pounded at his brain. The pain twisted his legs mid-run, and he careened to the floor. Gandrel's Aspiration flew off his back, landing exposed two meters away. A drow warrior stopped beside the crossbow, her reddish eyes scanning for his location. Why did that idiotic parasite betray him?! He looked up, prepared to see an army closing in; instead, the mind flayer pointed at the doors.
They had opened. Something huge—a tower of stitched flesh and muscle—plodded into the hall and trampled the battering ram team. What sheer luck... or perhaps Balthazar exploited the disarray he'd created in the illithid's ranks. Either way, his flesh golem went on the offensive, bolstered by a group of ghouls.
The chasers left him, probably obeying their leader's telepathic orders, but not before that drow stole his crossbow. A fierce melee engulfed the large room while Astarion clambered to his feet. If the fighting shifted away from the exit, it would be a chance to flee. Only, the scroll's effect could end at any moment—The tadpole writhed again, and a psionic pulse drew his attention to the huge doors. Eerie lights danced beyond the opening, and there were no combatants near it. An inquisitive peek, followed by a swift retreat? That could prove useful. Waterdeep and Shady would approve—not that he cared... too much.
Steeling himself, Astarion hurried to the doors, skirting the battle. A ghoul crashed to the floor before him, gasping its last breath. He leaped over it and ran the last few steps to the threshold. Behind it was a second large hall with a domed ceiling. More corpses lay stacked on its floor, covered in green slime. A winding flight of stairs led to a raised platform, where several human-sized vats sat, each filled with icky green fluid. There were people inside them... nude and unconscious, probably being drained of life like all those unfortunate corpses.
Among them was an athletic half-elf with neck-length golden hair—their party's quirky leader, Tav.
What in Avernus were those repulsive necromancers doing to her?! A series of glowing tubes linked the macabre vats with a larger container. Balthazar and a second robe-wearing pervert stood before it, facing another floating body. It seemed familiar... disturbingly familiar... Astarion's eyes opened in disbelief.
