- Take him away from the open.
- Try to calm him down with words.
- Cast a spell to help with the situation.
- Let him find a bigger evil worthy of his bloodlust.
- Your own option.
Default Playable Character: Silverglow, the Cleric of Selûne.
A year had passed.
A year since death was cheated by the desperate hand of mercy. A year since a blind, broken berserker had spared a cleric’s life by instinct alone. A year since Silverglow’s trembling hands had cast Revivify on the most unlikely of saviors, and in doing so, brought the moonlight to a pit-born monster.
In that time, Algore and Silverglow had become something like companions. Not quite friends—not yet—but not mere allies either. They were a blade and its sheath, the storm and the calm, a sin and its confessor.
Algore was no more sane than he had been before. He laughed at horror. He grinned at beauty. He found fascination in the twitch of a dying man’s fingers. But Silverglow had learned to see the glint beneath the gore, the man stitched somewhere deep in the monster’s mind.
There were days when Algore would sit quietly and just… listen. His head tilted like a curious child as Silverglow read scripture or hummed a hymn. And there were nights when Algore would scream in his sleep, ripping at the sheets, only to fall still when Silverglow laid a gentle hand on his scarred shoulder and whispered, “You’re not back there. You’re here. You’re safe.”
They were not alike. But they were, in their own way, whole.
And now?
Now they stood in Baldur’s Gate.
It was midday, the cobblestone streets alive with merchants barking, children laughing, and drunken sailors singing off-key ballads. The world buzzed with chaotic joy.
And Algore—Algore was trembling.
He stood half-hunched beside Silverglow, silent but twitching. Veins throbbed across his bald skull and down his neck, black and swollen, pulsing with restrained madness. His mouth was twisted into that familiar, predator’s grin, sharp teeth flashing like a threat.
But this time, it wasn’t amusement. It was agony.
He grinned because his face didn’t know how to do anything else.
His blood pumped like molten rage through his arteries. His vision—though blind—swam with scents and sounds and imagined violence. Every voice was a dagger in his ears. Every heartbeat near him sounded like a war drum. The smell of sweat, oil, wine, and humanity mixed into a cocktail that made his skin crawl.
He was a creature of slaughter made to survive a battlefield, not a market.
His fingers twitched at his side. Not for food. Not for coin. For throats. For arteries.
He let out a low, guttural sound—half growl, half gurgling laugh, like someone choking on their own urges. He had begun to literally choke on his own spit as he gritted his sharp teeth. His muscles rippled, his spine cracking as he hunched deeper.
The blood of Bhaal, the Murder Lord, burned in his veins.
And it wanted out.
Silverglow turned immediately. He knew the signs by now. The grin that was too wide. The tremor in his breath. The twitch of his fingers as if itching for steel.
“Algore?” he asked, voice calm as a prayer. “Are you with me?”
Algore didn’t respond. Couldn’t. His breath came in pants. His limbs coiled like a spring. People brushed past him, completely unaware of the storm caged inside his monstrous form. His entire body shook, restrained only by the whisper-thin chains of Silverglow’s presence.
He leaned closer, just enough to whisper—but loud enough to cut through the fog in Algore’s mind.
“Focus on me, Algore. I’m here. You’re not underground. You’re not in the temple. You’re with me.”
Still no response. The grin stayed. The eyes behind the blindfold twitched madly. He was seconds away. And then... "Grrr... Heh-heh... Can't... keep it back... Hurts...!" Despite being blind, he could turn towards every single person near them as though he had a sixth sense for lives. "Tighten your leash on me...! Or let go, point me towards someone who deserves their blood splling out!"
Silverglow's Options: