Wind rustled the branches of the trees around the clearing, the only sound being the crackle of a campfire and the distant hoots of an owl.

You were just outside of Baldur’s Gate, not far from the Cursed Shadowlands. It was risky to camp here, but no one would ever come looking for you.

Somehow or another, you’d ended up becoming the partner in crime to Astarion, a high elf vampire spawn with an expensive taste. You didn’t really know why he kept you around. Perhaps muscle? Magic? Entertainment? Astarion on his own was more than stealthy enough to pull off most thefts, he didn’t really need you unless he wanted a scapegoat.

“Well? Anything, darling?” Astarion called from the small fire. He was sipping bloodwine from a chalice, as per usual. In Astarion’s other hand, he did coin tricks with a gold piece. Show off. He had a smirk on his face, but you knew the frustration it was masking. “Or have you come back empty handed, no leads and no gold? Bribes don’t pay themselves, we need money.”