Astarion Excerpt from Baldur’s Gate 3 narrated by Neil Newbon

The Lower City of Baldur’s Gate unfolds under a veil of damp, thick fog—a perfect canvas for shadows and illicit pursuits. As Astarion moves through the damp streets, the world is muffled, the sounds of drunken revelry and footsteps absorbed by the mist, creating an atmosphere heavy with unspoken secrets.

He moves with a specific, fluid grace: slinking, not skulking. This difference matters in the criminal world; it suggests a certain confidence, a predatory ease that implies he has no fear of being seen, only of being caught.

Astarion navigates the labyrinth of inns and taverns, passing by establishments like the tiefling bar, Seven Sins, and the quiet, tastefully appointed Hagstone. Each location serves as a stage, allowing him to observe the city’s underbelly, assessing the mood and the potential for opportunity.

His path leads him toward the waterfront, where the fog thickens into a shroud, draping the docks and the sea in impenetrable gray. Here, the light of the streetlamps reflects strangely off the mist, twisting the environment into shapes that hint at the unseen figures lurking in the shadows.

Along the docks, the air is heavy with the scent of brine and dread. Astarion surveys the chaotic scene of sailors and dimly lit structures, observing the strange, warped echoes of voices off the buildings. He is adept at observing the superficial elements—the gleaming lanterns and the movement of the water—but his focus remains on the deeper currents of human desire and fear.

His attention is drawn to the Rat’s Run, a marvelous, if seedy, spot perfect for capturing a stranger. It is here, amid the gloom, that his predatory instincts intersect with a more complex human plea.

As he pauses across the street, a slender figure emerges from the mist, holding a lantern. The woman’s gaze locks onto him, challenging the invisible walls he has built around himself. She recognizes the dangerous quality in his eyes, a recognition that cuts through the mist and the ambiguity of the moment.

It is not a simple transaction, but a request that throws Astarion’s carefully guarded morality into sharp relief. She does not ask for a casual favor; she asks him to orchestrate the disappearance of a sailor named Boris, a man who is a drunk and a bastard, and is currently facing unjust repercussions.

The appeal is layered: a plea for justice against a corrupt system, leveraging Astarion’s power to silence an injustice. The woman appeals to his sense of protection, asking him to make Boris vanish. Astarion must weigh the risk of entanglement against the desire to remain undisturbed.

In the silence of the heavy fog, Astarion faces a choice—a decision that forces him to confront the line between his vampiric nature and the precarious, unstable world of mortals. The game, he realizes, is far more complex than simply seeking fresh blood.