Based off of my first attempt at this fight. Let's just say, I was not as prepared as I thought.
The fight doesn't last five minutes.
By the time Astarion has realized what's happened, that he's being forced into place to fulfill the ritual, he knows it's useless. They were fools to think they could actually stand against Cazador.
Even so, Astarion fights. He cries for his companions, his friends. Terror squeezes all air from him like his master's fist, but he swallows it down with hope. Tav was sure they could do this. He has to truth her.
Lae'zel tries to get to him first, but she's quickly surrounded. Her skills are sharp as ever, but there's only so much she can do against that many monsters.
As Gale rushes to her aid, Tav is left alone at the very end of the battle field. She too is surrounded within seconds and Astarion can already see her life drain with each hit.
No, no this can't be right. They were sure! They prepared!
"Come out of hiding, you fiend!" Lae'zel snarls as she goes to follow Cazador's shadow. She makes a strike, then another when her blade passes through.
The attack is returned and-
Astarion has never seen Lae'zel go down so quickly. In a single blow, the Githyanki warrior falls. She's crumpled in a puddle in her own blood, seconds from death.
"No!" Gale shouts. He tries to free her of enemies but it's no use. Lae'zel is dead before he can finish uttering his spell.
All hope drains from Astarion.
"Hold on!" Gale spins on his heel. He's running for Astarion, the pain of failing to saving his friend evident on his face, but the wizard presses on.
A slash across his back stops Gale mid-stride.
Tav falls next, so far from everyone else. Astarion can hear her gasps echo in his skull, her confidence all but gone now.
Fools. They were all fools! How could they truly believe this was ever going to work?!
Astarion watches Tav get sliced to ribbons, her body twitching and spasming until there's nothing left to move. Never before has the sight of blood been so disgusting to him.
"I-I'm coming! Hold on!" Gale stumbles, a hoard of beasts following at his heels.
He doesn't want to watch anymore of it, but Astarion can't look away. Vlaakith's best warrior, painted in red. A fallen cleric who vowed to free him.
Gale, the prideful wizard of Waterdeep, collapsing just before his feet.
They've never gotten along particularly well. Gale was always too...well, annoying for Astarion's taste. And his taste was foul enough to act as a sort of repellent. He ranted and raved about his books, and Goddess, and the Weave, and Mystra again. He snored at night and every kind gesture held a level of underlying cynicism to it.
They lock eyes, brown on red.
Red. Red! Red!
Gale tries to push himself forward, his arms shaking uncontrollably. He reaches out with pale fingers, the tips just barely touching the end of Astarion's foot.
"A-Astar-"
A blur of motion from behind and those brown eyes cloud over. The shaking stops, eventually. The blood doesn't.
Astarion doesn't listen to Cazador's mocking words. He doesn't hear anything but the sound of those three people dying with his name on their tongues.
They failed. They failed and now...
Now, Astarion will die as nothing more than what he's always been. A possession. A body.
A Thing.