#florrick

people at the party: all your companions, scratch, owlbear, volo, and a bard in the middle playing a song (his name is milil)

lae'zel is the only one who isn't here physically, she sent an astral projection instead because she's been busy fighting vlaakith

astarion explains why he ran away (ashamed) when the sunlight hit him, he's become a "hero" who adventures and has accepted himself

(romanced halsin) you can hug halsin, he's missed his friends and you. you can do both the hug and the kiss, it's really sweet. he's turned the shadowlands into a community, repursing reithwin and moonrise towers into homes for people

jaheira's daughter rejoined the flaming fist, she's been working on rebuilding the harper network. the upper city was entirely destroyed by the battle but has been mostly rebuilt. she jokes that you might be a parent soon

wyll gives you a choice between three stories, a stegosaur/dinosaur battle, an impossible lich, or a young dragon. he lost his warlock powers but has been managing the best he can, and has become a RANGER ("a true hunter of monsters"). duke ravengard is commanding the flaming fist and help rebuilding the city, and he's very proud of his son

minsc and boo guard the streets while jaheira is "occupied with harperish manners". they "went to give a tickle" to the zhentarim, then got locked up in a zhentish cell, awaiting execution? idk if i'm reading incorrectly but he seems to be implying that he actually GOT executed but withers brought him back just in time lmfao

gale has become "professor gale dekarios of blackstaff academy, educator of the esteemed school of illusion". tara is with him. he surrended the crown of karsus to mystra, who cured him of the orb in exchange (his tattoo is gone), though his students still think he's explosive (he implies that he uses it as a threat to keep his class under control). he tells his students about your adventures together. he also implies you're welcome to visit his tower

shadowheart (main romance) - the game told me that we settled down together to live a happy, peaceful life on a farm in the countryside. shar still hurts her (if parents are saved), especially when she can sense that SH is enjoying herself, but it's been getting less frequent because she's been "losing interest". there's a new hug and kiss scene for her too, so i'm assuming this is for ALL companions and not just halsin/SH/whoever

withers will speak to you about karlach, explaining that she won't be able to come back. he jokes about her, which is rare for him, and you're given to opportunity to grieve her loss. in "a dozen tendays" (assumedly how long bg3 is), "an entire life was lived, she lived several centuries" (not exact quote).

milil, the bard playing in the center, does NOT want to be there. he's pissed that no one recognizes him (he's pissed specifically that i'm a bard and don't recognize him), i had to pass a deception check to recognize him and he cheered up and offered to change the song he's playing

there's a chest called "Chest of Grateful Words" filled with letters from your allies!

"Official Guild Letter"

"Letter from Barcus"

"Letter from Art"

"Letter from Valeria"

"Letter from Ravengard"

"Letter from Sebastian"

"Letter from Florrick"

"Letter from the Gur" (unascended Astarion)

"Letter from Alfira" (durge, killed quil grootslang)

"Letter from Dammon"

"Letter from Elminster"

"Letter from Nocturne"

"Letter from Voss"

"Letter from Hope"

"Letter from Mayrina"

"Letter from Nine-Fingers"

"Letter from Zevlor"

"Harp-stamped Letter"

Baldur's Mouth Gazette

All that broidered shearling—fanciful stuff, birds and beasts of the hunt picked out in shining thread—billows as the fencer whirls. A flurry blows back the cowl. Silvering hair and snowflakes whip round the Ward of Gorion’s monstrous muzzle of a face: ruddy with cold, creased with vicious lines, smiling at her with beleaguered delight. “Why, Counsellor—”

Wyll’s foil bends against his foe’s forearm. His eyes flash with something of his father’s triumphant spark: Ulder Ravengard writ small, though the boy’s sprung up half a hand since Florrick saw him last. She almost smiles. His shoulders must exasperate his tailor. “Touché, your Grace!”

“Maimed, am I?” The old creature ducks out of reach with unnatural ease, nimble as the boy, and obligingly tucks the arm behind their back. Their foil flicks up and down like a music-master’s wand, turning Wyll’s aside. “Fortissimo, bravissimo—my goodness, young Ravengard, what do you call that one?”

Wyll, skidding with a shout of laughter in some slush, turns the mishap into a thrust. “The Legend’s Strike—”

The Duke catches him by the scruff before he falls. Florrick, with dignity, snorts and sidesteps them. All play, no work. “Puppies, the pair of you.”

The breathless grins they exchange tell her all. When the Duke slings Wyll at her, she raises her eyebrows and trips the boy into a snowbank. Her staff knocks aside a lunge of the Duke’s that shudders from the magewood to her bones, and then she’s dancing with a demon in Ravengard’s yard: clack-clack, clack-clack, the flashing foil bludgeoning the stick. She’s never parried so fast in her life. The Duke moves in ways that, for anyone else’s get, would not be possible—as though their blade is alive and after her, darting where she most fears for it to go, and only their indulgent grasp of the hilt dissuades it from running her through.

They’ve still got their damned arm behind their back. Florrick grits her teeth, shaken, sweating in her furs—

“My goodness,” gasps the Bhaalspawn, putting up the beastly foil. Sweat’s plastered a shock of their hair to their face. “Enough of that. With you about, Florrick”—with a wheezy laugh, they steady themself on Wyll’s shoulder—“why do we spend money on the Fists?”

* * *

“Perhaps,” says Ulder Ravengard with supreme tact, reaching across his writing-table for the carafe, “you would like a cup of chocolate?”

He’s never seen Florrick out of breath. If her chambers burned down around her, he doubts she would lose her composure enough to cough. She looks at him now like one of the wild-eyed haggards that perch on patriars’ wrists.