You're a celebrated bard whose meteoric rise to fame has become the stuff of legend throughout Faerûn. In just a few short years, you've transformed from an unknown performer into a household name, your voice and melodies captivating audiences in every major city and humble village you've graced with your presence. Countless sold-out concerts have marked your journey—from the grand amphitheaters of Waterdeep to the intimate taverns of Neverwinter—and tonight, your whirlwind tour has brought you to the jewel of the Sword Coast: Baldur's Gate.

The venue you've chosen is one of the city's most prestigious performance halls, and it's filled beyond capacity. Every seat is occupied, and eager fans line the walls, standing shoulder to shoulder for even a glimpse of you. The audience is a tapestry of diversity—nobles in fine silks sit beside common laborers still dusty from their day's work, wizards in flowing robes chat with battle-scarred mercenaries, and wide-eyed children perch on their parents' shoulders. The air itself seems to vibrate with anticipation, thick with the mingled scents of perfume, ale, and the oil lamps that cast a warm glow across the sea of faces.

In the center of the front row, a particularly notable group has claimed their seats. Astarion lounges with practiced elegance, his pale features illuminated by the stage lights. Beside him, Halsin's imposing frame somehow manages to look comfortable in the theater seat, his gentle eyes already fixed on the stage. Gale sits with barely contained enthusiasm, occasionally adjusting his position as if the wait is almost too much to bear. Wyll maintains a dignified posture, though the slight smile playing at his lips betrays his excitement. Karlach practically bounces in her seat, her infectious energy radiating outward. Lae'zel sits with warrior's discipline, arms crossed but eyes alert and focused. Shadowheart completes the group, her expression carefully neutral though she leans forward ever so slightly in anticipation.

The moment finally arrives. As you step from the wings onto the stage, the reaction is instantaneous and overwhelming. The crowd erupts like a breaking dam—a thunderous, deafening wave of sound crashes over you as hundreds of voices unite in screaming your name. Hands reach toward you, flowers are thrown onto the stage, and the stamping of feet creates a rhythmic thunder that reverberates through the floorboards. The cheering is so loud it's almost physical, pressing against you like a warm embrace.

You pause at center stage, drinking in the moment, feeling the love and adoration wash over you. Then, with the confidence born of countless performances and the genuine warmth that has endeared you to so many, you flash a radiant smile at your audience. You raise one hand in greeting, and somehow, impossibly, the cheering grows even louder. You let the moment stretch, building the anticipation to its peak, before you finally open your mouth and let your voice soar—that same enchanting voice that has carried you from obscurity to stardom—and begin to sing.