Morally questionable

Granted, the latter has already happened, but let that be a lesson to the elf who decided that it would be utterly wise and the best idea to just mosey on around wherever he thought he belonged.

For however long it was, Connor spent that time in absolute silence, replaying that entire interaction on loop. Did he make the right choices? No, no, he should have said a few things differently. He should have did a few things differently, too.

The constant replaying of what-if's are short lived, however. No more time for the theoretical as the sound of a door opening and footsteps following snap Connor back to the present.

The familiar face of Jaheira herself. The woman that he'd come to appreciate within hours of meeting her, thanks to Laerel Silverhand introducing them.

Connor's head turns to Jaheira now.

Still remaining seated on the ground from where he was earlier. Not like he needed to stretch any muscles anyway.

“A True Soul with a mind of his own. He has some relic that prevents him from being swayed by its control. A whole group of them in fact. They can go undetected into Ketheric’s ranks.” The opportunity they had all been waiting for. Someone with the ability to seek in and find a way to end Ketheric and this hell they found themselves in.

“I would like you to accompany Astarion and his companions into the fortress. I doubt they will see you as a threat either. They keep undead walking among them.” Jaheira’s expression grew more serious. “I need someone I can trust to keep an eye on them.”

‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒ The reborn cast one last look over their shoulder in the direction the child had departed, then quickly followed after their "master."

Maybe Astarion was right, maybe there was nothing they could do, and even on the off chance that they could... Yu-nae saw the way that crowd looked at them when they tried reasoning with them, denying the vampirism and saying their teeth was a result of their Tiefling heritage. Suggestion and charm magic didn't suddenly turn people into bigots, that was something that was already within them. They didn't even want to think about what they would have done to someone like Karlach, or the much more helpless refugees they had met on their journey to defeat the Absolute-- that crowd might have not even allowed the guards to take them.

Yunae hurried behind Astarion's heels as they made their way towards the stable, when they heard their direhorse gelding letting out panicked, pained noises.

Unlike Astarion, Yunae *loved* that horse. Greystrong was their companion, their baby. And when the door opened and Valerie's spawn was spotted, they saw nothing but rage.

The horse, still panicking, but having enough sense to fight back, kicked the spawn as soon as he saw his owner coming to the rescue, and effectively knocked the spawn prone.

For someone with only one leg and a measly phantom limb, Yunae was surprisingly fast, and even more surprisingly deadly. They rushed in, rapier at the ready, but instead of using it when they got near, something *else* in them kicked up. Their mouth opened, almost unhinging, eyes rolling to the back of their head, and grabbed at the spawn's shoulders.

A strange, ethereal, bright green light, the tell-tale sign of necromantic magic, emitted from Yunae's mouth, and slowly, the vampire began to wither, like the very essense was disappearing. The bright green light wasn't coming *from* Yunae, but rather was escaping *out* of the vampire, as slowly the poor bastard was shrivelling up a husk of nothing but skin and bone, and then crumbled to ash.

The bard's eyes rolled back into focus, closing their mouth as they stood up, hand on their jaw for a moment.

His eyes were wide in both horror and fascination. He made a point to step away from the pile of ash on the ground. “As grotesque as that was, whatever gets them out of our way I suppose.” He twirled his daggers before sheathing them. “Now can we get out of here? Before something else terrible happens? They're making it very clear we have overstayed our welcome.”

He’d feel better the sooner that this town and its vampires were behind him. Another would-be lordling hungry for power wasn’t in Astarion’s list of favorite people to be around. They had a relic to find, not a damned village of crazed lunatics to concern themselves over.

“Stay here and watch the damned thing before it gets itself killed. I'd be rather cross if it did." Astarion huffed. "I’ll gather our effects from the inn.”

In the silence of Astarion’s sudden departure, an older man made his way into to the stables. He was haggard in appearance, but his bearing spoke of a more lavish upbringing. He twitched and fidgeted. He checked every which way like the walls had ears and eyes. “You’re that prisoner they took. You and your friend. But she let you go. You got out. Please… you have to help us.”

"No, I don't think you're a prince to impress," she replied, double-timing her stride as she acted to catch up again. "I merely wish to- To become your friend... If you'd let me. Everyone could use a good friend I think."

Starlight was making this really hard. Again she wondered why that was. He was clearly annoyed with her, and now he was belittling her with insults on top of that. Such insults glanced off of her easily; it was part of her job to hear all manner of them. But what stuck was the insult juxtaposed with the derisive tone when mentioning who she'd contracted with.

She'd contracted with Lord Szarr. Not directly; he'd sent one of his managers to speak with her. But his name had been on the paperwork all the same. Did Starlight hate the middleman she'd spoken to? Or did he hate Cazador himself?

She puzzled over it for a moment and concluded he must hate Cazador. Who else could hold his work contract and refuse to alter it? Who else could keep Starlight here, where he was clearly unhappy?

"Fine," she replied, sprinting. "If I get docked pay then so be it. I don't regret the choices I've made tonight. And I will go talk to the proprietor even if it's a worthless endeavor."

She meant it too. Even as she lost sight of Starlight in the darkness, she kept heading back to the casino. Once she got there, she didn't go back to her room. She headed instead toward the office she'd signed her contract in. Surely there was a happy little medium she could reach with Szarr? A few years' worth of free performances perhaps?

His fingers tapped along the keyboard as he entered and reformulated the week’s earnings. The expenses… the money set aside for bribes… Cazador’s head rose with inhuman speed towards the door. The knocking broke the peaceful interlude of finessing the ravishing and bewitching numbers over spread sheets. Cazador didn’t recall a late meeting. He kept meticulous records of his schedule. His time came with a price.

“You came all the way here, you may as well enter.” The Lord Szarr waited; his expression schooled as any good upper echelon member of society would. His office opulent and filled with overpriced luxury goods. Even the floor was lined with marble that had flecks of gold etched into it. “And who am I speaking to? I do not recall having anyone on my schedule.”

Halsin perked up considerably at the mention of going outside of the city where he could be one with nature. Perhaps he'd find the time to meditate and find his connection with Thaniel again, a connection that had been all but lost in the midst of his torment and torture. He missed his dearest and oldest friend... but could he face him again after all that he had done and all that he had endured?

It was a fact that was neither here nor there, however. He'd cross that bridge when the time came.

Taking hold of Astarion's hand once it was offered to him, Halsin can't help the small smile and the relaxation of his soul at the simple gesture. It wasn't too long ago that Astarion hadn't wanted to touch and be touched... to know that the vampire trusted him as much as he did meant the world to him. Meandering through the crowds, Halsin kept his gaze on Astarion, unable to look away...

Until the sight of a group of children drew his attention away. With their faces so eerily similar to that of the children he had mauled, Halsin paled considerably, coming to a complete stop as his breathing grew shallow. Somehow he found the strength to continue on, eyes filled with unshed tears...

And the moment they were in the wilderness that Astarion had guided him to, Halsin took a few shaking steps before falling to his knees, momentum propelling him to his hands as well. Though somehow, the change had yet to start..

"The children..." he croaks the words, focusing on the feeling of the grass beneath his fingers and the life all around him. It helped minimally to ground him, eyes closing... though that was certainly worse than keeping them open, so after a heartbeat his eyes flew back open once again.

Confusion etched on Astarion’s ageless features. He descended into a crouch to better examine his lover. “Children? What do they have to do with anything?” Eyes flitted back to the township before returning to Halsin. Sure plenty of them roamed the streets now as vagabonds. The little tiefling urchins in particular whom tried to swindle a fellow thief on more than one occasion. The little shits.

Halsin hadn’t been himself since springing him from Orin’s clutches. His mind elsewhere. Astarion recognized the look too well. The same eyes marred the faces of his siblings after one of Cazador’s more sadistic moods.

Haunted.

He had mentioned nightmares in their bath…

Made a close-up and a small environment sketch. I wanted to catch a Celtic/Slavic dark mythical vibe ✍️

The incubus was used to the heat of the Hells--along with the heat of passion--but Haarlep was also gifted with stamia that was likely far greater than his companion's. Gifted with wings, the walk was also a breeze for him. It was the boredom that drove the creature insane. Tree after tree... a rock... Hells, nature was so dull at times. He missed the screams of the debtors in the House of Hope, or the way his claws would rake down a certain devil's back and make him moan.

When Alaara and her little crew decided to camp for the night, Haarlep had crawled up one of the trees so he could see how far along they were. A few more days walk, he would guess. For him, it would have been so much quicker. He could have offered to scout, but that would mean he'd miss out on all the fun when it came to camp time banter, and that would have been a travesty.

The scent of sweat from their companions smothered his nostrils, making him crave the flesh, his tongue licking his lips.

From his position, he could see them all, unpacking, gathering wood for the fire, putting their tents up... and Astarion's ghost-like back with a familiar alphabet upon it. Now, now, wasn't that curious...

Leaping down, his wings guided him to a softer landing. "You have met with devils before, I see," he stated to the vampire, tilting his head curiously. "And here I thought I was your first." He pouted playfully, eyes large and sad.

Upon arrival, Alaara was initially so focused on bathing in the cool waters that she missed seeing Astarion and Haarlep. She'd managed to set her things down, strip her boots and socks off, and was about to throw her shirt off when she heard a familiar melodious voice nearby. She turned to look in the direction she'd heard it coming from and immediately turned red at the sight she saw. In but a few seconds time, she processed seeing Haarlep, Astarion's armor, his undergarments... and then the elf himself, naked. On instinct she averted her gaze, but it flicked right back up. Something had caught her eye as she'd looked away. She could see Astarion's back from where she was. It looked rather inflamed.

"Well- I'm sure both of them already know I'm here," she thought. "I've certainly lumbered over, light and all."

There would be no avoiding them. She sighed made her way over to the elf and the incubus. Better to face the beast outright than to let them drift over and tease her.

"Yes, I'm here," she said. "You needn't say anything to tease me."

"Astarion, did you get a rash or burns? Your back looks awful."

Confusion marred Astarion’s ageless face tempered with annoyance. But of course their resident denizen of the hells would pester him. Haarlep always was on the lookout to be mischievous. Astarion quite liked it… when it wasn’t directed towards his person. “Oh darling, you’re still the first devil I’ve ever met. Don’t be so dour about it.”

Another? Gods, could a vampire not get any privacy? Astarion was far from shy over his state of undress. He despised having his business aired to others when they weren’t invited. Alaara, the little degenerate in the making. “Hoping for another look? I think she’s embracing our lessons.” His eyes looked towards Haarlep briefly. The not so little bard was going to become the infamous stereotype yet if she kept their company. “All you had to do was ask. Although, he—” He gestured with a flick of his wrist to the devil. “—might have without invitation.”

Alaara stumbled into his one insecurity. Astarion steeled his features, unaware the very same marks lured the devil over. “If you must know, they are scars. A gift from Cazador.” His voice carried an undertone of vitriol. The man’s name a curse on his lips. He and his siblings were forbidden to speak about them. He saw the ones on their backs, but they appeared as a blur. The master’s control extended to even making them forget the exact words if they did see them.

Inaya was no normal maiden, and certainly wouldn't be reduced to food for a vampire lord that she'd be able to crush with a flick of the wrist should she choose to. Not that she knew that was the intentions of the vampire that she graced with her presence, of course, but the point still stood.

"Ah, I see," her lips curl at the corners with her amusement towards the vampire, violet eyes regarding him for a moment before she looked towards the inside of the bar, rapping her knuckles against the countertop twice...

And just like magic, two drinks appeared before them. Taking one, she slides it towards Astarion, taking the other for herself. Should he drink it, he'd find it was exactly what he would want. "Enjoy. Consider it on the house, for your first time here," she purrs the words.

"So, how did you hear about us, Sugar?"

Thou shall not drink the blood of thinking creatures.

She knew what he was. It put Astarion on high alert. While a fetish for many, his kind weren’t the most welcomed. She hadn’t thrown him out yet… A courteous, performative smile danced over his lips. He gripped the drink, drawing it closer. But he didn’t partake. “My, my aren’t you generous?”

@apalestar Tells me this is Alaara's theme song because she quote: 'Loves staring at mens' tits.'