BG3 – Tales of the Hero Hireling – Go to Hell

Before we begin the story:

This is Baldur’s Gate 3 fanfic.
The screenshots are from my 8th playthrough of the game.
Angela the Arctic Druid is a hireling, not a “Tav.” It may help to know her back story.
I’ll dance around spoilers as much as I can. But I’ll let neither a spoiler nor the truth get in the way of the story. You have been warned!

The previous day had been busy.

The explosions at the fireworks factory were not her fault. Not really.

Well, in Panther form she’d prowled invisibly through the store. She’d placed gunpowder barrels around every Evil person who made explosive toys to hurt kids.

At least, she thought they were Evil. They looked at her funny, anyway. Maybe it was because she was a hireling. But that’s no excuse for being rude.

Besides, she couldn’t have started the explosions. An Arctic Druid doesn’t know any Fire spells. You can’t set off fireworks with a frost ray.

It was Karlach who shot the fire arrow. As one does from time to time. It’s a perfectly normal thing to do.

The passersby enjoyed the spectacle.

As Druid Angela sifted through the debris, she found an unexploded firework. Those sell for a decent amount of gold. She pocketed it. As one does from time to time. It’s a perfectly normal thing to do.

At that moment, some random guard accused her of theft. Somehow he’d managed to see her through the demolished door from the outside.

She could have backed down. But she’d just saved the lives of innocent children. Wasn’t she entitled to a little compensation?

Besides, she’d taken out guards before. As one does from time to time. It’s a perfectly normal thing to do.

She went on the offensive. A team of soldiers popped out of nowhere. As they do from time to time.

Then another team. And another. And another.

Within a second, there were over two dozen guards standing outside the ruins of the fireworks factory, all eager to prove themselves to the Tyrant Warlord.

She sighed. This is what happens when you have a reputation for excellence.

Aside: I wish I thought to take a screenshot. In an instant, several Flaming Fist teams turned hostile at once. My screen overloaded with enemies, more than I’d ever seen in any battle I’ve had before or since. Each turn took about ten minutes as the game tried to figure out what to do with all the combatants.

The battle was long and hard. Thank the Goddess for Ice Storm.

Druid Angela says a brief prayer for the souls of the civilians who weren’t smart enough to get out of the way of her spells.

And thank the Goddess for her minions, the Ice Mephits and Water Myrmidon and Dryad and Wood Woad, who distracted the guards and split them up.

And Karlach, never forget Karlach, who can take out whole teams with one hand while she yawns with her other hand.

And Halsin, who shapeshifted into Owlbear and leapt onto groups of guards, crushing them.

And Wyll, who… did… something significant, she was sure. Even though whatever he did didn’t leave much impression at the time. Or afterwards.

Finally, it was over.

There were stacks of bodies all over the place for Karlach to loot. At least it had been profitable.

It was time for a well-deserved rest.

When she got up the next morning, she noticed for the first time that her bed was surrounded with plants.

This is what happens when you’re a Druid. You sleep with plants.

She eyed Halsin’s mattress, which was also sprouting plants. She was a bit surprised that there weren’t plants all over the floor. When Halsin was in Bear form, he’d have sex with anything. There broken sofas throughout the inn that proved it.

There was something going on with Halsin and Wyll, but she didn’t think they’d smashed any furniture. Yet.

After the morning’s usual dose of buffs, Wyll call them together. Druid Angela, as usual, was stuck to one side.

Wyll announced, “Hells. My time’s running out.”

Angela remembered the agreement Wyll had signed. It was a foolish thing to do, even if got them the Singing Mallet. She still carried it in her backpack, though it didn’t seem like a good time to mention it.

“Go to Hell,” suggested Gale.

Everyone perked up, except for her. This was exactly the kind of dumb idea she’d come to expect from this group.

“No time to waste. Making my move! And I’m off.” Wyll got up and headed for the door.

She knew the details were up to her. She gestured at Halsin and Karlach to join them,

Lae’zel was left out, and not happy about it. She pleaded with Angela.

There was no time for debate. With a quick reminder from Angela that everyone should dress casual, they rushed to follow Wyll.

Druid Angela didn’t know how they’d get there. She should have known better. The road to Hell is paved with good intentions. Wyll had plenty of those. You could see it in his vacant gaze.

They were in Hell faster than Wyll could say “A hero at heart.”

Angela told them to wait while she explored. For a monstrous dimension dedicated to eternal damnation and struggle, the views were pretty impressive.

In a room filled with portals, she was so moved that she did something quite rare for her: she spoke.

Aside: Hirelings rarely speak, and when they do it’s short expositionary phrases like “Look at that!” The speeches she made in front of the portals were her longest in the entire playthrough.

What’s this? It looks like a bedroom. It smelled pleasant, seductive.

In the bedroom was a bed, and on the bed–

Halsin teased her. “Are you feeling lonely, perhaps?” She knew he was actually warning her to stay away.

There was nothing to worry about. Hirelings don’t get–

What was happening? Was this even possible for a hireling? Maybe she should–

A hireling was supposed to be obedient, weren’t they? And obedience was its own reward–

The Fugue Plane, Withers, Wyll… none of it mattered…

She gestured to the others. Leave me!

The battle with the demon began.

It was a long time before Druid Angela could get her clothes back on.

It was even longer before she would speak to Karlach again.

That was it. She wanted to leave. Wyll had what he wanted.

It was time to defeat the Demon Lord. She assembled the team, summoned all her minions, and readied for battle.

Druid Angela knew how fragile Wyll was. She had him hang back. She confronted the Demon Lord and started to speak with him…

She’d remembered how fragile Wyll’s body was, but forgot how fragile his ego was. “Coming through!” he yelled, shoving her aside.

She swallowed her disappointment, but a battle was a battle. Her spells were ready…

She waited. And waited. Wyll and the Demon Lord were talking. And talking. Why the delay? What difference would it make? She didn’t have to wait this long at the fireworks factory.