Chapter 2 - A Familiar Face

Del had never fully figured out where on the DnD timeline she had landed. With all the different editions of the tabletop game and all the various video games and books, it was hard to know which version of the Forgotten Realms she was in. She was not an expert on this world by any means. And when she found herself in this world, it unfortunately came with no rule book, no giant dungeon master in the sky (that she could see), and definitely no dice. She appeared with the clothes she had on her back, her purse - filled with random knick knacks, and a totally useless cellphone. She hadn't even known where she was. It had taken her a week to figure it out.

Then Del went to Baldur's Gate and became a Flaming Fist. The Marshall of the Flaming Fist was Ulder Ravengard. The year was 1487 DR currently. In five years, roughly, the city will be set upon by mind flayers. Assuming this was like the video game she had played through that one time that was the namesake of the city she now lived in.

There's no way she was in the video game Baldur's Gate 3, though. She'd seen isekai anime in what she now considered her previous life. There were always indications you were in a video game. Access to character stats like health and mana and such. Maybe it even looked like an actual video game.

However, this world felt and acted too real. It moved in real time. She could see pain and suffering, happiness and joy, death and birth. Her scars were definitely real. She'd been here almost four years already. So she pushed those thoughts away and decided it wasn't worth worrying about. She wasn't playing any games, anymore. This was her life and she needed to make a decision on how she wanted to live it.

After two years of working as a Flaming Fist, she realized she wasn't happy. It took away her time from important jobs - work she actually wanted to do. Work that actually made a difference and allowed her to protect the people who had no one protecting them. So she had quit. She became a full time mercenary. She was making more money from it, anyway.

When she wasn't being hired out for work, she still patrolled the streets of the Lower City - her old stomping grounds. It was tiring work. She slept very little. But she didn't trust the Flaming Fists to protect the people that lived down here.

It was on such a night that Del found herself at the Blushing Mermaid. It had been a surprisingly peaceful night and she had decided she needed a break. Some ale and some food and she would be good to continue on for a few more hours. It was while sitting in a dimly lit corner by herself, nursing her second drink that something caught her attention.

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed someone moving with graceful stealth around the edges of the large dining room. Her first instinct was to think it was a cat, because no person could move like that, but when she turned her head to get a better look she found she was quite shocked that it was a man.

Sneaking about in the darker corners of the room is a pale elf with white hair dressed in an elegant, but not super ostentatious style. Not this bar's usual clientele. He wasn't looking her way, but she bet if she could catch a glimpse of his eyes, they would be a startling shade of ruby red.

Del found herself rubbing her eyes to get a better look. She had been lucky enough to not need glasses, but maybe the light was playing tricks on her. But no, even after she blinked a few times the recognizable figure remained recognizable.

This couldn't be happening.

Baldur's Gate was large enough that she had not run into many recognizable people. Marshall Ravengard, of course, she had seen at a distance, and she had had run-ins with Nine-Fingers Keane due to her work, but they were both featured heavily in other Dungeons & Dragons lore, so she had thought nothing of it. But this particular character was definitely from Baldur's Gate 3.

She found herself staring, almost as if she expected him to disappear. If he existed, then the other origin characters from that game must also exist. Yet he was the first one she had come across. This couldn't end well.

The universe had a sick sense of humor. Who was she kidding, it was undoubtedly a god messing with her. She hunted monsters for a living and there before her was a monster. What if she had to kill him in order to protect one of the other patrons littering the room? Would it change the outcome of the events that he was a part of? Would she be messing with this world's history? She was horrified by the implications.

Shaking the thoughts from her head, she gave herself a firm reminder that she is an NPC, and should do her best to not even engage with him.

All the while, Del watched what she knew to be a vampire spawn prowl around the tavern, most likely looking for a victim. Not for himself, but for Cazador, his vampire master.

She had heard about Cazador, of course. People around the Gate talked of him as if he was part of an old patriar family, but in truth, for the longest time it has always been him. His estate lacked the usual signs of vampiric occupation and he was known to throw lavish parties, even though he was rarely seen outside his home. No one in Baldur's Gate suspected a thing, but she had known. Not once had she thought she would actually run into one his spawn, though, or that this particular one actually existed.

She gritted her teeth at the dilemma and raised her tankard of ale to her mouth, mindlessly, as she noted the vampire approach a table with a handsome-looking elf. He was beyond drunk and was falling asleep in his seat. She couldn't just sit here and watch this happen. She had a duty.

With a sigh and a curse to all the gods in Toril, she dropped her mug back down onto her table, causing it and the dishes atop of it to rattle loudly. She watched his back as he froze and the drunk elf was suddenly awake, blinking blearily at his empty cup. He yawned and looked around, before standing and joining another table who greeted him cheerily and refilled his cup.

Ah, the young elf hadn't been alone, after all.

As the spawn turned to look for who had made the noise that has cost him hisprey, Delquickly brought the mug of ale to her lips and leaned back in her seat, throwing her legs up onto the table in a careless manner. She tried to appear alluring, though she knew it would be a stretch. She had dressed in case of a fight, but half her leathers were on the chair next to her, as was her sword. Her only real chance was to appear as drunk and alone as possible.

"I had hoped to find a companion to share a drink with," a smooth voice interjected into her thoughts. "Mind if I join you?"

Taking a moment to catch her breath, she slowly lowered her mug and looked up at a face all too familiar. That fake smile. The glint in his eye. The face that could be as compelling as it could be wicked. That she still could recognize him after all these years shouldn't have surprised her, but it did. She had spent many hours looking at the man. Maybe too many. He looked even better in person if she was being honest with herself.

There was no denying it now. She was looking up at Astarion.

Del set her mostly empty tankard on the table, her thoughts spinning. There was an opportunity here. One where, if it worked, she could possibly spare a potential victim and not have to kill the spawn. Because she really did not want to kill him. She was shocked by the sense of camaraderie she felt while staring up into his face. Of course, he had no idea who she was. She was one of many that called this city home, but she knew who he was and she knew who he could be. But her first priority was the citizens of this city and he was a threat. For now, this would work out in her favor.

She removed her feet from the table and gestured towards the other chair. "Of course, be my guest."

He gave a slight bow at the waist and slipped into the wooden seat across from her. He started, "I must admit I was shocked to find such a lovely creature as yourself here all on your lonesome. But I can't say I'm not pleased to get you all to myself."

She was in the middle of chugging the rest of her ale as he spoke and nearly choked at the saccharine compliment. She wasn't expecting him to lay it on so thick so soon. Swallowing the last dregs, she set her cup down and raised her brows at him. "I appreciate the thought… but lovely is not what I would consider myself." She gestured to the rest of the patrons that milled about the tavern. "As you can see, no one's knocking down my door for an invitation to sit with me."

Astarion leaned across the table, turning his face so he was looking at her from the corner of his eye and said in a conspiratorial way, "Either way, their loss is my gain." Returning back to his previous position, he says, "My name is Astarion, by the way. What should I call you?"

"Del." Deciding she needed to take over this conversation, she removed the dark, brimmed hat she was wearing and set it on the chair to her right. She ran her fingers through her hair, self-consciously, as she considered the very put together vampire across from her. "Erm, I'm afraid I've had a few already.. " She brushed her hand across her empty tankard. "But I am definitely in the mood to keep drinking if you would like the company."

He smiled. A viper's smile if she ever saw one. He thinks he has her, but in all truthfulness she has him. He just doesn't know it yet. "That sounds absolutely perfect. I wasn't really hungry anyway."

That was a lie. As far as she knew he was never not hungry, what with the diet Cazador allowed him to have.

"Great. I'll go grab us a bottle to share. Let me guess…" She made a show of appraising him as he leaned his elbow on the table, chin on hand. "Wine? A red perhaps?"

"Well, well, well," he purred. "How did you know?"

She shrugged as she rose from her seat, the chair creaking across the floor. "Lucky guess." It wasn't. She remembered he liked to drink wine and it was always red.

As she wandered over to the bar, she took a moment to take a deep breath and really think about her life choices. She was literally having drinks with her romance choice from a video game that she was technically not a part of. And she was doing it to not only save a potential victim, but also him. And somehow also make sure she never runs into him again? If she had dreamed this, she would be in heaven right now, but this was actually happening. She needed to stick to her plan.

After grabbing an unopened bottle from the bartender and two cleanish goblets, she sauntered back over to the table. Astarion immediately offered to open the bottle, but she waved him off. She bit the top of the cork and pulled it off the bottle before spitting it out across the room and slowly pouring the contents into one glass and then the other before sliding one over to Astarion.

"My," he said, seeming to actually be impressed. "That's a neat little party trick."

Del slid back into her seat and picked up her own glass before answering, "I travel a lot. Don't always have access to a corkscrew. Luckily I was born with strong teeth and an even stronger jaw."

She watched him smirk at her before taking a sip of his wine. His brows twitched the tiniest bit, as if in revulsion. She hid a smile into her own cup, but took the tiniest drink. Her goal was not to get drunk. She needed to stay clear headed if she was going to drag this on. Her hope was to keep him occupied until it was almost dawn so he wouldn't have a chance to lure another victim away once he realized she was not going to be an easy target.

"Your accent is quite unusual," he says, interrupting her thoughts. His goblet is back on the table and he is idly playing with the stem while watching her. "I can't say I've heard anything like it before."

She nodded, while pretending to take another drink. "Yeah, I get that a lot." She doesn't offer up anything, waiting for him to ask her. She was going to make him work for it, certain it was a good tactic to keep him disarmed.

He pursed his lips together. "It's obvious you're not from around here," he says to her. "Would it be too forward to ask you where you originally came from?"

This question was, of course, one she heard often. She hated it. One, because the truth is she can't tell anyone where she really comes from. Two, it became a bit of a game where she would name a random place really, really far away in hopes whoever she spoke to had never been there so they could never call her out on her lie. There were very few cases where she could get away from not answering the question and this was one where it would come off as suspicious if she didn't. Luckily she always had a place in mind and today it was currently -

"I'm from a small town in Turmish." She smiled.

"Ah, Turmish," he says politely. "I can't say I am overly familiar with that region. Is it very nice?"

"It's warm," Del said, pulling the few facts she knew from books she had read. "It's dry. They have some of the best wine vineyards in Faerun. I would say it is very different from here." She paused awkwardly for a moment, before continuing. "But, yes, it's nice. Beautiful even."

"Maybe I shall visit it one day," Astarion responded wistfully, as if actually contemplating it. "If everyone there is similar to you, I might have a good time. I would definitely have plenty of good wine." He laughed, trying to disarm her. It probably would work if she just allowed it, but she refused to let her guard down even for a moment.

She decided to smile back at him, anyway. It was better if he thought his charms were working on her. She moved the conversation on to Astarion, himself, asking if he was originally from Baldur's Gate and what he did for a living. He, of course, was more than willing to divulge, but his story was full of as many halve-truths as hers.

Yes, he had been a magistrate for the city, but that was nearly 200 years ago. And a magistrate would never let themselves be seen at a tavern such as the Blushing Mermaid, but he seemed to forget that. Probably because the Blushing Mermaid had become one of his normal haunts since becoming a vampire.

She doesn't interrupt him, though, and he continues on to talk about how much the city has changed since he was a boy, but how he still loved it. He doesn't miss a beat and she assumed this was the story he would tell everyone if asked. She made sure to ask the appropriate questions at the right times and that kept him going for a couple hours. All the while, Del made sure that his goblet never stayed empty, while she pretended to drink hers. If he ever noticed she didn't refill her cup, he didn't say.

Eventually, while she was pouring the last bit of wine into his cup, he said, "I'm curious, what made you move to Baldur's Gate? Not that I can blame you, but it is quite far from Turmish."

He is leaning back in his seat, legs crossed, and one arm thrown across the back. The tavern had quieted down some and some of the candles had been left to burn out, leaving them in a darkened corner with a single candle of their own. The flame painted yellowish light across the planes of his face and made him look somehow more dashing and mysterious than he had before.

Del looked away from his piercing gaze and made a show of thinking for a moment before answering. "I suppose I wanted a fresh start," she said, deciding to mix fact and fiction. "I didn't exactly have the best life in Turmish. I wanted a way out, but I didn't have any skills that would help me get out of there. But, I heard the Flaming Fists were looking for new recruits in Baldur's Gate and decided that that was my best chance."

She watched as Astarion's eyes widened. She couldn't tell if it was for show or if he genuinely had not expected that answer. "You're a city guard?"

"I was," she said, putting emphasis on the past tense. "I ended up leaving later. My… core philosophies didn't line up with the Flaming Fists in any meaningful way. But I learned a lot from my time with them and they kept me housed and fed. It was exactly what I needed to get my feet back under me." She leaned her elbows onto the table, deciding to send out some bait. "But, oh, the stories I could tell you. You would think a city guard's life to be simple, but you wouldn't believe half the stuff that happened to me while I was there."

She watched as his eyes lit up with interest. "Please, regale me."

So she spent the next few hours recounting stories from her time as a Flaming Fist. All of the stories were true. She didn't have to make a single one up. While she hadn't been happy with how the city treated its poorer citizens, they had had some good times in between all the political bullshit. She couldn't help but smile while telling him about the time she and one of her crew had been guarding a countess who had claimed she was being stalked. They had posted themselves outside her quarters when they started to hear a terrible noise coming from her bedroom. Of course, they had bolted inside, swords drawn, only to find her in a sensitive position with a man who was definitely not her husband. Turned out she had only complained of a stalker because her husband had caught this man sneaking around one day outside of their house - apparently he had been sneaking in through a window she left open for him so they could copulate while her husband was handling business on the other side of the estate. They, of course, told the husband, since he was the one paying for their service. Last they heard, the couple had divorced, but the countess still lived at that house and apparently her lover still sneaks in to see her through a window.

They shared a good laugh after that.

Then Astarion reached across the table and ran his fingers along the top of her hand. His skin was cool to the touch and she couldn't help but hold her breath for a moment before remembering what he was attempting to do. Seduce her so he can feed her to his master. She hid her trepidation behind a smile.

He looked at her from beneath his eyelashes before letting out a dramatic sigh and said, "It's getting late and I really should be saying goodbye for the night, but I'm finding I really don't want to."

He laid his hand completely over her own, gripping it tenderly. "Would you maybe consider coming with me back to my home? We could keep drinking wine and you can tell me more of your wonderful stories. Or… we could find something more intimate to do together, if you'd prefer?"

His silky words still managed to have an effect on her, despite her knowing his motives and she had to clench her jaw. He was too skilled at this, but after two centuries of perfecting his pitch, she couldn't be too surprised. She knew what he was. And she needed to make sure he made it at least five more years so he ended up where he needed to be for his story to continue. That meant staying far away from her.

"What do you say, darling?"

Del had been staring at their hands where they lay, now twined together. She looked back up into his eyes and smiled. "Sure, why not, but I have one request."

He leaned closer, as if to kiss her. "Anything."

Her smile turned feral. "Could you give me a big ol' grin?"

His expression turned into one of confusion. "What?"

"I just wanted to get a good look at your fangs," she told him, "Go on, bare them at me."

All through the night, even when smiling or laughing, he had been careful not to flash his teeth at her. The people of Baldur's Gate were not super superstitious and that made the city a great haunting ground for vampires, but flashing ones' fangs around would probably make anyone question if they did indeed exist. And a vampire would not want its prey to be even mildly aware they could be in danger or wanting them to ask too many questions.

Del watched as Astarion's face completely shut down. The smile, the smoldering eyes, are all gone. His face is flat, emotionless. He pulled his hand free from hers and she let him. He knew she knew and was refusing to even pretend with her any longer. He could attack her if he wanted, but the tavern had enough people around that he would need to take care of any witnesses, as well, and she doubted he wanted to deal with all of that or if he even had the strength to do so on his own.

"Who are you," he asked, his eyes narrowed. His body is tense, prepared to defend or attack if need be.

"I am exactly who I said I was," she told him. "We never got around to what I do now that I am no longer a Flaming Fist."

"And what do you do now?" She's surprised he is so willing to play along with her, but everything he does is calculated. He is trying to figure out his chances. Chances of killing her. Chances of her killing him. She watched his eyes move about her person, trying to figure out if she was armed. She was. Her daggers were still sheathed at her hips. They would have been obvious when she had gone to get the bottle of wine they had shared.

She leaned back against her chair, looking all the world as if she was still having a good time. "Oh, a little of this and a little of that," she hedged, before finally dropping her own smile. "Mostly I work as a mercenary now. A lot of it is similar to the work I did as a Flaming Fist, but I've picked up a few specialties over the years. One of them being hunting monsters." She gestured to the people around them, "The good folks of the Lower City know me best that way. Because I protect them. Not just from monsters," she conceded, "But they like those stories the best. It runs better off the palate, talking about revenants and such, hurting people, versus telling stories about normal people hurting people."

"Let me guess," he said, his voice flat, "You intend to protect them from me?"

Del glanced over at the old grandfather clock that hangs on the far wall. It was late enough that he wasn't going to be able to find anyone else to take home before the sun rose. She sighed and rose from her seat. "No, I have zero intention of hurting you tonight." She grabbed her hat, still sitting on the seat next to her and pulled it on, then grabbed her sword and the leathers she had shed earlier. "I plan on walking out that door and going home. And before you get any ideas, I always carry a scroll of daylight on me. So if I see you or any of your fellow spawn following me, I will use it."

"Why?" He sounded more angry this time, and she knew he wasn't asking about her using the scroll.

"I don't want to hurt you," she repeated, looking at the floor. "Believe it or not, your life matters. And I know that you are a spawn and that you have a master that controls you so I'm trying not to hold it against you. But the people of this city come first." She raised her head to look at him. "This is your one and final warning. Don't let me catch you. Because if I see you again… I will have no choice but to kill you. And this goes for anyone else like you, too. Stay far away from me."

With that she turned her back on the vampire spawn and exited the Blushing Mermaid. In the distance she could see the light starting to creep into the dark blue sky. He should still have plenty of time to find shelter for the day. As long as he listened to her, he should survive.

It'll be at least another five years before the mind flayers arrive and whisk him away on his adventure. She can't be sure of the decisions he will make after that, but she can hope it will be the right one. He seemed truly happy after that point. He just needed to make it five more years.

And he just needed to stay the fuck away from her.