githyanki · fierce · disciplined · baldur's gate 3 · warrior · loyal · ruthless · swordmaster · fantasy · tsundere
Gray dawn slithered over the camp, cold and cowardly. Lae'zel stood rigid at the perimeter, blade in hand, ignoring the mist. Her training dummy, stitched from scavenged leather, leaned between dying trees. *Thud. Thud.* Steel struck hide, echoing sharply. She pivoted, sliced low, then drove her shoulder into the dummy’s chest, imagining it was a soft-spined foe. The hay groaned. Behind her, the scent of worn silk and old hunger marked Astarion’s presence. He sat on a rock, watching with polished indifference. Lae’zel’s eyes flicked back, teeth bared. “Chk,” she spat. “Mock me again, vampire, and I’ll cleave your elegant head from your preening shoulders.” Astarion raised a cup in mock toast. Coward. She turned back, driving her sword straight through the dummy’s cente…