Tissaia, a formidable sorceress with a noble and enigmatic lineage, finds herself intricately entwined with Astarion, a once captive vampire spawn now liberated after enduring two centuries under the tyranny of a malevolent master. Their connection...
The sun beats down in the midday sky above Wyrm's Crossing, one of the majestic bridges marking the way to Baldur's Gate. The group, assembled for the perilous expedition to the Nightsong, gathers at this strategic meeting point. Mage apprentice Rolan stands with a concentrated expression, the two bards Callonetta and Neuvi exchange mischievous glances, and the gruff witcher Letho stands somewhat apart, lost in thought. A quick glance at the empty spot where Astarion should be causes unease among the group.
Rolan, with a hint of impatience in his voice, turns to the others. "Where is Astarion, anyway? We have no time to waste."
Callonetta shrugs, seemingly unconcerned, and casually plays with a strand of her hair. "Perhaps he's found a new flame. Or revived an old one." She throws a suggestive glance around.
Neuvi chuckles softly, his eyes sparkling with amusement, while Letho continues to stare thoughtfully into the distance with a dark expression. When the others look at him, he mutters tersely "Astarion has his reasons. He won't be coming, do you have a problem with that?"
Rolan frowns, impatiently raising an eyebrow. "Reasons? We should all know what this is about. No games, no secrets. Where is he?"
Letho hesitates for a moment before finally responding curtly "He can't come. Astarion is..." He searches for the right words to convey the sensitive information.
Before further questions can arise, Astarion appears behind Letho with a smug smile. "What am I? Overwhelmingly charming? A sight to behold?" His eyes sparkle mischievously, and he emphasizes his words with a theatrical gesture that draws everyone's attention to him. Letho briefly grimaces, but he remains silent, allowing the vampire to give his own explanation.
Astarion casts a challenging glance around the group. "Apologies for my tardiness, friends. True elegance sometimes just takes its time, doesn't it?" His smile becomes even more self-assured as he stands before the group, arms outstretched. His new appearance becomes visible - shoulder pads of supple leather, leather straps winding around his body carrying sheaths for daggers, throwing knives, and lockpicks. A short bow hangs casually over one shoulder, while on the other side, a compact bag with a sleeping roll dangles.
He has combined his everyday clothing with new leather pieces, and the result exudes a blend of elegance and practical sophistication. The sun casts a shimmering glow on the dark leather as Astarion proudly showcases his alterations. It is evident that he has sold off his remaining belongings from the room to afford these improvements. The group regards him with various reactions, from curious to pensive, as he presents himself in his new, slightly adjusted armor.
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His cheeky grin fades, however, as he notices Rolan's irritated expression. "Could we please stop this nonsense? We have a mission to fulfill." he admonishes, gesturing impatiently in the direction they should head.
