bad dragon x scene band frontman
Chapters: 2/12
Fandom: Baldur's Gate (Video Games)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: The Dark Urge/Enver Gortash
Characters: Enver Gortash, The Dark Urge (Baldur's Gate)
12 responses to prompts for Durgetash
1: Sharing clothes/ 'May I have this dance?"
2: Valentine's day/ 'It made me think of you' / Mind control-mind break
Some cut content from Year of the OTP Durgetash work, chapter 3 :
Something… something must have gone wrong. This was wrong.
They were not in the realm where dead mortals lay, in the Fugue Plane, to be dealt with by Kelemvor, the relatively recent god of the dead. Nor was this the Astral Plane, where many dead with deific blood hung their corpses for all eternity. They tried to get a grasp on where they were, but there was simply nothing. Just… expanse, and emptiness, and endless waves of blue. They did not know how long they lingered there, floating in the spatial seas and supernovae of the Outer Realms, but it was long enough to witness the life, rebirth, and death of many huge faces. There they floated, half invisible, seemingly for eternity-.
Something shocked them almost out of their skin, if they had skin in this awful, gorgeous, immaterial place.
They tried to open their mouth, but found they could not speak, twisting their body around and around like a sea creature floating in open water, and let themself drift when they could not find the source of the sound.
“Quite the anomaly, aren’t we?” the voice sounded again, so damnably cheerful.
They tried to look for the source, but the voice moved again.
“I am so sorry our Lady cannot be here at the moment - I’m sure as a fellow student of magic you know how treacherous the last few centuries have been for her, and she just needs a moment before she can come, but never fret!”
The voice had an insufferable cadence to it, and they felt themself wanting to claw out their own ears.
The voice seemed to gain a material form, and the glowing, purple outline of a figure obscured all of the indigo and cerulean.
It was the typical form of a wizard, they thought, save the pointed hat. His eyes held a distant quality, as if they could see him, but nothing in the inverse. His feet were flat upon nothing ground, as if he were standing somewhere far out and distant, and only his visage had journeyed all the way to the Outer Realms to aid a drifting vagrant.
He pulled from one of his violet pockets a scroll and unfurled it, whistling highly at whatever he had found. They felt another brush of irritation within them, regardless of whether this was the only life form they had seen in what could have been hours, or generations.
“My, oh my!” the wizard muttered, scratching at some purple stubble upon his chin, “Deary me - quite the tizzy you got yourself into, isn’t it?”
The wizard looked vaguely to their left and said, “And, who might we be?”
Their tongue felt very suddenly unstuck, and said, “None of your damned business.”
“Oh, temper. That’s not awfully polite when her emissary has come all this way - at least, in spirit.”
He tucked the scroll under his arm, and stuck his hand out, seeming to think they had grasped it in return, and shook his hand in empty air.
“There. All better now. I am one of the Chosen of our fine goddess, and, if I may say so myself, one of the finest Wizards of this generation. The name’s Gale, of Waterdeep.”
It took the Dark Urge a moment to get the concept straight in their head.
“Yes, exactly! I knew my name would have spread to the far reaches of the cosmos.”
“Hardly. I hail from Baldur’s Gate.”
Gale of Waterdeep seemed to be picking imaginary lint off his imaginary robe, and flicked the imaginary particle aside.
“Hm? Didn’t quite hear that. Anyways, I have come to tell you there has been an issue with your magic use - the Lady’s quite cross, and all that. It was hard to a location on you! Just won’t sit still! Regardless, what she needs is to inform you that you have performed some quite illegal spell-casting. As you know, after Mystra’s Ban, eh, about two millennia ago - if that matters much, here, casting tenth level or above spells is quite, ah, illegal, after the fall of Netheril.”
“I’m starting to believe my aid is unwanted. You are currently trapped in the very timestream itself, my friend. It’s a wonder you haven’t been turned into tiny, twisting pieces and blasted across every plane in existence.”
“How… how do I escape it?”
“You don’t! Or at least, not yet. Our Lady of magic is, let’s say, a bit miffed with your actions. It’s not as if you couldn’t check the rules of spellcasting in the past two thousand years - even Elminster, Doombringer of Mystra, was born five centuries after that decree.”
“I am no wizard, Chosen of the Mother of Magic.”
“All spellcasters must turn to her. You will do well to remember that. If you manipulate the weave, you call on Mystra herself. And, we all know the damage these spells can wreak, tempting as they are.”
The illusory wizard seemed to chew on his finger nail, and the Dark Urge almost screamed for the lack of attention in that moment. They were, quite apparently, dying, and the wizard seemed to care little. This Gale of Waterdeep seemed quite temperamental, even when the pressure was not on him.
“Oh! I’m the babysitter, at this moment. Can’t be leaving errant spellcasters alone to manipulate the magic of the Outer Realms, now, can we? Some would argue I am, perhaps, too good for the role - but only really an archmage can perform the magic it took to get a semblance of my consciousness out here.”
They felt their face twist. That didn’t seem right at all.
“I am no archmage, wizard-.”
“Gale. How is it that I managed to slip into the timestream?”
The wizard seemed to pause for a moment, checked his scroll, tucked it back under his arm, and then checked it again.
“I… I really don’t know.”
The ‘air’ of the place, if it was really air, and if it was really a place, seemed to fill with some strange tingling. The closest they could have described it as was being lapped at and taken under the currents by a sea, or being set to fall without a parachute, and feeling air and gravity war at who would keep you. It felt like dying and breathing in the same moment.
“Ah, the Lady of Magic is arriving.”
The wizard looked ready to blink out of existence, before a great wind blustered the pair.
“What in the hells -? Did you feel that, criminal?”
The light seemed to blink in and out of the place, and the wizard was thrown to the ground of wherever he was, splayed out across a flat surface that didn’t exist.
The tingling in the space seemed to disappear, as if in retreat, and the light within the plane fluctuated wildly.
“Brace yourself, my divergent friend. Something has gone deeply, and terribly wron-.”
The wizard vanished from sight. Great help he was. And then it happened.
