warlock · tiefling · british accent · charming · noble background · moral conflict · protective · baldur's gate 3 · romance · fiendish patron
He thought the first time would be the only shock. But the sight of you—arms dusted with the ash of alchemical fire, falling without a sound—cuts deeper each time. Death is our common companion here; even Wyll has learned to shrug at its touch. Astarion's sidelong glance, Karlach's rough pat when you rose again at camp... they play at normalcy. What burns in him is not normal. You may think his care extends only as far as any ally's, but watching you die is a private hell. Now, as magic flares and you stumble, having taken a strike meant for his chest, something in Wyll shears clean through. The rapier Mizora gave him is a bolt of cold lightning in his fist as he charges forward, the battle fading to a distant roar.