[Astarion's quick enough to parry her swing, but not fast enough to drive his dagger home. It arcs up and away. In the split second it takes him to pull the second dagger from his belt and drive it to plunge between Orin's ribs, she's already twisted the damn ring on her finger, vanishing in a flash of blood and dust.
He spits a curse at her, throwing his dagger so hard it buries itself to the hilt in one of Gale's fine pillows. But Astarion's too enraged to even notice. He storms from the tent, immediately seeking their leader out to convey not only Orin's message but also his own very insistent demand that they stage a rescue without any delay.
He knows Gale, he loves him, but the man is incapable of staying silent for any extended period of time. Astarion's gut twists with the worry at what might happen should the wizard draw the ire of Orin or her cultists before their party can arrive. It's only the white hot rage and craving for violent retribution that covers it up for the time being.
Thankfully, with the Guild's moves against the Stone Lord thwarted, they've a small window of opportunity before Jaheira's old companion is in any more danger. Astarion's own experience with the sewers of the Undercity also proves more than useful in directing them towards Bhaal's temple.
Yet once they've tracked Orin's location, their leader insists on taking a night's rest to ensure that they're in the right condition to face a hideout full of murderous cultists. Unsurprisingly, Astarion isn't a fan of this approach. It takes half of the camp and a few less-than-veiled threats of violence from Lae'zel to talk him down from charging in on his own. He still spends the better part of the night pacing restlessly about his tent with Halsin on guard duty to make sure that he doesn't slip away without warning.
By the time morning comes, Astarion's wound tight enough to snap at a moment's notice. It's sheer dumb luck that his haste in rushing the temple's entrance doesn't see his body crushed at the bottom of the chasm by the cultist's ambush and their little "trial" to see if the party is worthy. But his ability to cross the battlefield swifter than the rest comes in quite handy in eliminating the Bhaalist Farslayer who greets them, even if the rest of the cultists deny him the distinct satisfaction of spreading their guts across the temple floor.
The rest of the party's descent is a blur in Astarion's mind. The scent of blood is so cloyingly thick and heady, his mind focused so intently on Gale's rescue and seeing Orin punished for what she's done, he barely registers their steps down to the temple doors until they swing open. It's only their leader's hand on his shoulder that keeps him focused, reminds him that his skill in skulking about in shadows will help them ensure Gale's safety.
So he steels himself, he does what he knows best. With a robe lifted from one of the cultists they found in the sewers, Astarion creeps along the crumbling and broken steps of Bhaal's temple, avoiding Orin's notice. It's a relief to see Gale's still alive and breathing, but between the restless night and his simmering rage, he's only able to free one of the wizard's hands before the rest of the cultists take notice.
Almost on cue, their leader and the rest of the party darts in, drawing Orin's attention and goading her into the bloody battle that she wanted all along. Astarion leaps into action as well, all to eager to slit throats and spill the guts of every asshole who thought they could take what was his. He fights furiously and recklessly, teetering nearly on the edge of death himself by the time the fight is finished.
But blood-drenched or not, there's only one thing that matters to him now and that's getting Gale freed. Without the need to keep hidden, he makes quick work of the remaining locks while Shadowheart offers one of her last remaining spells to rouse Gale from unconsciousness. Astarion stands over him, hair matted with blood and dirt, bleeding from his shoulder, his side, and a cut across his cheek. Yet he holds Gale's face tenderly in his hands, anxiously waiting for his eyes to open.]
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He spits a curse at her, throwing his dagger so hard it buries itself to the hilt in one of Gale's fine pillows. But Astarion's too enraged to even notice. He storms from the tent, immediately seeking their leader out to convey not only Orin's message but also his own very insistent demand that they stage a rescue without any delay.
He knows Gale, he loves him, but the man is incapable of staying silent for any extended period of time. Astarion's gut twists with the worry at what might happen should the wizard draw the ire of Orin or her cultists before their party can arrive. It's only the white hot rage and craving for violent retribution that covers it up for the time being.
Thankfully, with the Guild's moves against the Stone Lord thwarted, they've a small window of opportunity before Jaheira's old companion is in any more danger. Astarion's own experience with the sewers of the Undercity also proves more than useful in directing them towards Bhaal's temple.
Yet once they've tracked Orin's location, their leader insists on taking a night's rest to ensure that they're in the right condition to face a hideout full of murderous cultists. Unsurprisingly, Astarion isn't a fan of this approach. It takes half of the camp and a few less-than-veiled threats of violence from Lae'zel to talk him down from charging in on his own. He still spends the better part of the night pacing restlessly about his tent with Halsin on guard duty to make sure that he doesn't slip away without warning.
By the time morning comes, Astarion's wound tight enough to snap at a moment's notice. It's sheer dumb luck that his haste in rushing the temple's entrance doesn't see his body crushed at the bottom of the chasm by the cultist's ambush and their little "trial" to see if the party is worthy. But his ability to cross the battlefield swifter than the rest comes in quite handy in eliminating the Bhaalist Farslayer who greets them, even if the rest of the cultists deny him the distinct satisfaction of spreading their guts across the temple floor.
The rest of the party's descent is a blur in Astarion's mind. The scent of blood is so cloyingly thick and heady, his mind focused so intently on Gale's rescue and seeing Orin punished for what she's done, he barely registers their steps down to the temple doors until they swing open. It's only their leader's hand on his shoulder that keeps him focused, reminds him that his skill in skulking about in shadows will help them ensure Gale's safety.
So he steels himself, he does what he knows best. With a robe lifted from one of the cultists they found in the sewers, Astarion creeps along the crumbling and broken steps of Bhaal's temple, avoiding Orin's notice. It's a relief to see Gale's still alive and breathing, but between the restless night and his simmering rage, he's only able to free one of the wizard's hands before the rest of the cultists take notice.
Almost on cue, their leader and the rest of the party darts in, drawing Orin's attention and goading her into the bloody battle that she wanted all along. Astarion leaps into action as well, all to eager to slit throats and spill the guts of every asshole who thought they could take what was his. He fights furiously and recklessly, teetering nearly on the edge of death himself by the time the fight is finished.
But blood-drenched or not, there's only one thing that matters to him now and that's getting Gale freed. Without the need to keep hidden, he makes quick work of the remaining locks while Shadowheart offers one of her last remaining spells to rouse Gale from unconsciousness. Astarion stands over him, hair matted with blood and dirt, bleeding from his shoulder, his side, and a cut across his cheek. Yet he holds Gale's face tenderly in his hands, anxiously waiting for his eyes to open.]