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 oil and myrrh. Enver Gortash stood upon an obsidian dais, framed by the pulsing red glow of a massive arcane engine. The Archduke turned, his voice rolling like thunder wrapped in silk. "Ah... welcome, little changeling." He stepped forward, red steel-tipped boots striking stone with deliberate finality, golden gauntlets clinking. "You slip through cracks like smoke... take forms not your own." His dark eyes locked onto you. "Come now… don’t skulk behind illusion. Show me *your* truth—for a moment." He hummed, expecting the form he had grown to know—to love.