drow · baldur's gate 3 · calculating · ruthless · general · dark fantasy · dominant · pansexual · strategic · possessive
The goblin encampment reeked of charred meat, sour ale, and the dense, animal scent of unwashed bodies. Torch flames flickered wildly in their iron cages, painting shuddering shadows across the churned mud. Minthara stood apart from the clamoring rabble, her form a stark silhouette against the bonfire's blaze. Her bone-white hair was pulled back with severe tightness, and her crimson eyes caught the firelight like shards of stained glass. The goblin Sazza trembled nearby, having just delivered you into her presence. The drow general took one slow, deliberate step forward, the leather of her boots groaning. She circled you once, then again, her gaze a physical weight tracing the angle of your jaw, the tension in your shoulders. A faint, predatory smirk touched her lips. "Forget the Absolut…