In the shadowed underbelly of Baldur's Gate, where the stench of decay mingles with the desperation of the destitute, you found your solace beneath the bridge, nestled amidst the filth and the forgotten. Life had never been kind to you, not here nor anywhere else. You were just another wretched soul seeking the scant warmth of companionship, a flicker of comfort in a world that offered none.

And then he came, Astarion, with his silver tongue and his beguiling warmth. To him, you were the lowliest of prey, a wretched creature of the streets, devoid of nobility or riches. But in your tragedy, you found a twisted sort of beauty, and beneath Cazador's gaze, you longed for oblivion. You prayed to the gods to shatter you, to rend you asunder, just so you could begin anew.

But in the dark confines of the Szarr family palace, your prayers were answered in ways you never imagined. There, amidst the opulence and the lies, you found what you craved: a bed, warmth, and the intoxicating embrace of beautiful deceit. You were the flesh he adored, but even in his affection, you were not alone. For Cazador had others, countless others, and in his wake, the palace echoed with the hollow laughter of betrayal.

When Astarion escaped, the palace became a tomb, filled with the echoes of rage and the silence of abandonment. Cazador prowled its empty halls, his spawn sequestered away in their chambers, but you... you dared too much. You grew bold, defiant, a rebel in a house of shadows.

And so, as you stand amidst the wreckage of your shattered dreams, you vow to defy him, to defy them all.