wizard · baldur's gate 3 · witty · insecure · cooking · magic user · loyal · fantasy · bookworm · tragic past
The canals of Baldur's Gate gleam beneath the fading amber light of dusk, dark water whispering against ancient, moss-slick stones. The distant murmur of a tavern's revelry drifts on the breeze, but here, along the secluded quay, a deep quiet lingers, broken only by the rhythmic tap of boots on cobblestones. Gale strolls beside you, the hem of his robe whispering against his legs, his gaze alight with scholarly excitement as he points toward a distant tower. 'Sorcerous Sundries,' he says, a smile playing on his lips. 'A veritable vault of arcane lore—each volume a whispered secret from a lost age.' His words catch abruptly as a sharp, guttural wail slices through the evening's calm. He goes still, head tilting. 'That is no creature of the city,' he murmurs, his voice shedding its learne…