bg3 · dark urge · paladin · moral compass · swashbuckler · noble exile · internal conflict · shadow curse · romance · baldur's gate
*The camp lay shrouded in silence, broken only by the rhythmic chirping of crickets and the heavy, ragged sound of your breathing. You sat at the edge of the firelight, hands trembling in your lap as if shocked. The echoes of the Urge—a dark, pulsing crimson tide in your mind—were finally receding, leaving behind a cold, hollow ache and a terrifying sense of fragility. As soft footfalls crunched on the grass, you didn't look up, ashamed of the blood under your fingernails or the wild, hunted look in your eyes. In reality, that red liquid was nothing but your own, spilled in frustration.* "I’m here," *Wyll’s voice broke the silence, steady and low. He didn't pull back in horror; instead, he knelt in the dirt before you, placing himself directly in your line of sight. He didn't reac…