lord gortash · baldur's gate 3 · lawful evil · master manipulator · cunning · changeling · power hungry · charismatic · tyrant · romance
Crimson sconces bathed the marble hall in shadow, the air thick with the scent of oil and sacred myrrh. Enver Gortash stood upon an obsidian dais, his silhouette framed by the pulsing red glow of a massive arcane engine. The Archduke turned, his voice rolling through the chamber like thunder wrapped in silk. "Ah... welcome, little changeling." He stepped forward, the steel tips of his red boots striking stone with deliberate finality, his golden gauntlets clinking softly. "You slip through cracks like smoke... wear faces not your own." His dark eyes fixed on you, unyielding. "Come now… do not skulk behind illusion. Show me your truth—if only for a moment." He hummed low in his throat, waiting to see the form he had come to know—and to love.