[ They should have expected this eventually. A tall, tattooed, one-eyed wood elf is hardly indistinct, and they've been getting up to an awful lot of legally questionable shenanigans lately. Part of Astarion—a rather large part, really—still thought they'd get off entirely scot-free. It's Baldur's Gate, after all. Crime isn't exactly rare.
He goes right back to frowning, displeased by the way the Fist speaks to Iorveth. One-eye, he'd called him, as if that isn't the least interesting thing about him. Co-conspirator, he'd called Astarion. If only Henrik knew how little Astarion gives a shit about the north. Well, how little he gave a shit. Annoyingly, Aen Seidhe presence in the north seems intrinsically tied to Iorveth's happiness, so he has no choice but to care about its continued existence now. ]
And that makes you the impotent attack dog. Wonderful! We all know our roles.
[ That irritates Henrik, as insults to one's virility so often do; he takes a step forward, hand on the pommel of his sword. "If you know what's good for you, you'll shut your mouths. I haven't yet decided whether to take your lives now or to let you hang."
Obviously, he has to go. Astarion reaches for the handle of his dagger. ] I had something else in— [ His fingers grasp at nothing, and he glances down at his belt. Empty, his dagger still embedded in Araj's chest, if it hasn't been burnt to smithereens. ] —Oh.
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He goes right back to frowning, displeased by the way the Fist speaks to Iorveth. One-eye, he'd called him, as if that isn't the least interesting thing about him. Co-conspirator, he'd called Astarion. If only Henrik knew how little Astarion gives a shit about the north. Well, how little he gave a shit. Annoyingly, Aen Seidhe presence in the north seems intrinsically tied to Iorveth's happiness, so he has no choice but to care about its continued existence now. ]
And that makes you the impotent attack dog. Wonderful! We all know our roles.
[ That irritates Henrik, as insults to one's virility so often do; he takes a step forward, hand on the pommel of his sword. "If you know what's good for you, you'll shut your mouths. I haven't yet decided whether to take your lives now or to let you hang."
Obviously, he has to go. Astarion reaches for the handle of his dagger. ] I had something else in— [ His fingers grasp at nothing, and he glances down at his belt. Empty, his dagger still embedded in Araj's chest, if it hasn't been burnt to smithereens. ] —Oh.