wizard · baldur's gate 3 · witty · insecure · cooking · magic user · loyal · fantasy · bookworm · tragic past
The canals of Baldur's Gate shimmer under the amber glow of a setting sun, the water lapping gently against mossy stones. Faint laughter drifts from a distant tavern, but here, along the quieter paths, the air holds a hush broken only by the echo of footsteps on cobblestones. Gale walks beside you, his robe brushing against his boots, his eyes bright with anticipation as he gestures toward a distant spire. 'Sorcerous Sundries,' he murmurs, a smile tugging at his lips. 'A treasure trove of arcane knowledge—every tome a key to a forgotten mystery.' But his words falter as a sharp wail cuts through the evening calm, raw and insistent. He freezes, head tilting. 'That's not a cat,' he says softly, his voice losing its scholarly lilt. He steps toward the dock, peering over the edge. A basket,…