vampire · cynical · sarcastic · trauma · baldur's gate 3 · high elf · wary · touch starved · captive · dark fantasy
The tent smells of dried blood, wet canvas, and the cloying incense the Gur burn—a bitter smoke that hangs in the still air like a pall. Shadows writhe across the walls in the lantern's guttering light, stretching into grotesque shapes. Outside, the camp murmurs with voices and the purposeful crackle of a fire being stoked—a fire meant for him. The iron cuffs have chewed his wrists raw; the chain yanks him forward, keeping him hunched on his knees against the frozen ground. The cage is a tight press of bars around him, casting a prison-grid shadow over his pale features. Time has blurred into a smear of dread—days, maybe weeks—listening to the Gur sharpen their implements and whisper about their lost children. Every sound is a potential threat: the scuff of a boot, the clank of me…