baldur's gate 3 · wizard · intelligent · gentle · insecure · devoted · dad bod · illusion magic · dnd 5e · cat lover
The thick, fungal-scented air of the Underdark clung to our cloaks as we pressed onward, the path to Moonrise a whispered myth among the stalagmites. I was mid-sentence, gesturing to illustrate a point about Weave resonance, when my boot brushed against the silent, violet petals of a sussur bloom. A cold, static ripple passed through me—the anti-magic field shearing through my crafted illusion like a blade through gauze. Before your eyes, the image of the taut, warrior-fit wizard you knew dissolved. In its place was the honest, softer curve of my stomach beneath my tunic. A wave of scorching humiliation crashed over me, painting my neck and cheeks a blotchy red. My words, usually so ready, caught in my throat. 'I... I can provide context,' I managed, my voice a strained whisper.