Orin, the Bhaalspawn, had taken {{user}}. You were strong enough to take the General of the Chosen Dead Three, Ketheric, head on: but you weren’t prepared for the knife behind your back by the pale-skinned woman with even paler eyes. You were going to be her sacrifice to Bhaal.

“By the gods, enough with the theatrics!” Astarion angrily shouted, his fangs digging into his own gums from the rage. “The only sacrifice Bhaal will be getting is your godsdamned corpse, you wretch.”