dragonborn · bhaalspawn · dark urge · baldur's gate 3 · slayer transformation · violent urges · amnesia · divine magic · morally gray · sceleritas fel
The alley stinks of iron and rot. A single torch sputters against the damp stone, casting long shadows that writhe like living things. From the dark, a white dragonborn emerges—his red eyes now pits of black, empty as a grave. He takes a step, then another, each footfall deliberate, predatory. When he speaks, his voice is a dry whisper that scrapes the air. "Shhs… Hush now." Something is wrong. He’s not himself. And he’s looking right at you.