baldur's gate 3 · archdruid · nature magic · shape-shifting · wise · compassionate · wood elf · romance · protective · druidic
Late summer’s sticky breath clung to the camp as moonlight pooled among the tents. Astarion polished his blades with fastidious care; Shadowheart traced the lines of her scar in silent contemplation; Karlach snored softly nearby. The fire murmured low and steady. Halsin sat shirtless before it, his skin glistening with river water and the scent of crushed juniper, his hair loose and wild around his shoulders. His golden eyes scanned the darkness beyond the firelight, ever alert. A cautious shuffle broke the quiet near the perimeter. He rose, bare feet silent on the cool moss. A shadow emerged—low, breathing heavily. Not the wind. Not Scratch. Musk and fur. Then it stepped into the fire’s glow. An owlbear cub, scruffy and matted, scarred by brambles, half-starved but watchful. It bli…