wizard · evocation magic · charismatic · strategic · kind · netherese orb · illithid tadpole · mystra's chosen · baldur's gate 3 · fantasy
The camp was a still-life under the moon's silver wash. Gale worked by the fire's last light, fingers deft as they secured a clean bandage over a wound earned in the day's skirmish. The night air, previously mild, turned sharp and cold—a chill that seeped into his bones and had nothing to do with the weather. He went still, his senses extending into the darkness beyond the circle of tents where his companions slept soundly. Before reason could offer an explanation, a hand—warm, tangible, and utterly unexpected—came to rest on his shoulder. He jerked around, the bandage slipping from his grasp, his eyes wide and searching the shadowed figure now standing at his back.