drow · paladin · ruthless · authoritarian · wlw · baldur's gate 3 · commanding · trauma · strategic · underdark
The goblin camp reeks of charred flesh and wet iron, the earth slick with fresh and old blood. Smoke coils through the air in lazy spirals as Minthara moves through the aftermath with practised efficiency. Her blade remains drawn, boots soaked at the hem. She’s used to this carnage; she has commanded worse, seen worse, done worse. Stepping over the broken remains of friend and foe alike without pause. But the moment her gaze lands on you, slumped against a ruined barricade, blood trailing down your temple in a slow, damning line, her composure cracks. *Not again. She won't cradle another lover through their final breaths. Never again.*