@ladymer Putting this in its own post for space and tidier notes.
Really? I haven't seen him say that before.
I'm pretty sure he still has his soul and that Karlach is being metaphorical when she tells unascended Astarion that he kept it (or she's referring to the fact that it's still his and unbranded by "property of Mephistopheles" as souls are when you make a deal with the infernal.)
Making a deal with a devil at all corrupts your soul because it always involves doing something evil that shifts you towards the Hells, shown mechanically as an alignment change which may be instant or gradual.
You are twisted towards the end goal of becoming like a devil yourself, the embodiment of cruelty, ambition, lust and tyranny - destined for the hells and likely to corrupt those around you and take them with you.
As ever, this isn't necessarily what Larian had in mind, but this is how I'm reading/headcanoning it, based on the D&D lore available to me:
I imagine it would cause the Vampire Ascendant to be what vampires say on the box, no nuance left:
"Dark Desires: Whether or not a vampire retains any memories from its former life, its emotional attachments wither as once-pure feelings become twisted by undeath. Love turns to hungry obsession, while friendship becomes bitter jealousy. In place of emotion, vampires pursue physical symbols of what they crave..."
With the traits of a devil layered on top (which is honestly pretty much exactly the same as the drives possessed by vampires):
"The psychology of devils can be summed up in a single word: Ambition. Almost every devil constantly wonders how it can win advancement [...]
The cleverer devils invariable perceive themselves as cool, calculating, and abundantly logical. [...however they] act based on emotion, without regard for their true long-term self-interest.
Devils enjoy inflicting misery - be it physical or mental - on others. They hate suffering defeat or humiliation..."
They're not necessarily "more" evil than any other vampire, but incapable of being more than their curse the way another vampires are theoretically capable of. They may not be soulless, but they might as well be.
The inherent evil/corruption of vampirism is maximised and overrides any existing humanity. Violence is the highest pleasure. Power is all. They only see things (including people) in terms of possession, jealousy and envy. The way they experience love and other emotions is superficial and sometimes, due to their ego, obsessive (this thing/person is theirs, so any challenge to that claim is not allowed because it's an attack on them). etc.
What the Vampire Ascendant mostly reminds me of is Abyssal Ghouls - and more specifically the original 1e FR version from Lords of Darkness, which was Ghasts, another form of sapient undead "improved" by the Lower Planes, courtesy of demons. They're undead and partially fiends. They're more powerful than regular ghouls, naturally dominate them as leaders of the pack, and, in their Lord of Darkness write up, Ghasts cannot be repelled by the usual anti-undead means (you have to repel them using cold iron, as you would a demon), so they have a less weaknesses. They're extraplanar in nature (no longer considered native to the material plane, but to the Abyss) and their souls are likewise bound to the Lower Plane that made them when they die, so they're... kind of minor demons themselves, in a way.
Replace "ghoul" with "vampire" and "demon" with "devil" and it doesn't seem far off from being similar.
Devils are also known for their mortal-like lusts and desires (such as food, despite not needing it) - it'd be interesting if the source of the Ascdendant's newly restored "mortal appetites" was from becoming a devil (or partially one).
Ghasts were described as the "Hounds of the Abyss" used by demons to track quarry, and I imagine the Vampire Ascendant is serving this purpose for Baator (which is also very devil-esque):
"Powerful lawful evil mortals are often more valuable to devilkind as living beings operating on the Material Plane. When alive, they can bring about the damnations of hosts of other souls, or pursue other goals of the hellish hierarchy."
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The Helm of Midnight Review: Oh, What a World
The Helm of Midnight Review: Oh, What a World
I’m late to the party on The Helm of Midnight, published last year alongside so many other pandemic-delayed books. But please don’t let my tardiness imply anything negative about Marina Lostetter’s dark fantasy debut, a sleek mystery that rushes through a wildly inventive setting at a breathless—but remarkably sustained—pace. The Helm of Midnight could have …
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#i'm very pro danny accidentally adopts a whole bunch of talons previous installments
*
The next day, the body was back.
The green was gone from its eyes, but the awareness wasn't; it spent about an hour watching people go around outside Danny's apartment, which was new behavior. None of the corpses that shadowed him had shown any interest in garden-variety humans before. Now it sat at the window and watched families come home from school or head to their afternoon shifts.
That went into Danny's notes.
After that hour, it taught itself to flush the toilet repeatedly, rearranged the contents of Danny's half-assed linen closet (again) and then stood hovering over the safe where Danny had stashed the ectoplasm.
"...Okay," said Danny.
The dead body croaked. It was a new sound, but there was no context for it. Danny just kind of...wrote it down and hoped for the best.
The day after, Danny woke up at a very reasonable ten forty eight in the morning to find stray corpses feeding each other spoonfuls of ectoplasm in the kitchen.
At that point he kind of had to throw out the notes on how much each one was dosed with, because what the fuck.
"Really?!" Danny shouted, spooking the bodies into fleeing behind chairs and doors and back into his closet again. The only one that didn't flee was Danny's ringmaster corpse of the hour, of course. "You really couldn't wait??"
It stuck out a withered black tongue out at the mortician, who was, really, the victim in all of this. A victim to his parents' whims and a victim to the dead people who followed him around all the time.
This was how Danny found out that, when it doubt, the corpses could just tear through solid steel if they were motivated enough. The finger-marks were so deep and so embedded that they actually looked more like rough claws in the metal.
Great.
Danny ordered a new locking cage for the fridge on Prime and darted off to work. One of his regulars was on the table, though, so Danny just ended up doing what he would have at home— sewing up a gash in its neck and reattaching dead fingers back onto dead stumps.
On the third day, in which four of Danny's frequent fliers had learned from the first how to flush the toilet (and therefore raise the water bill immensely) Danny got a ring from a dark voice he (almost) recognized.
"Is he here?"
Danny squinted, jerking the phone further under his ear as he whipped up some scrambled eggs. The dead girl leaning over his shoulder leaned a little closer to watch the egg froth up. "Is who here? Who is this?"
"This is Batman. Is— the body requisitioned from your facility currently at your place of residence?"
Danny fully let go of the whisk. It landed haphazardly in the glass bowl he'd been stirring in. "What on Earth is a Batman?" he asked, incredulous.
"I visited your workplace previously."
Oh! "Yeah, the cop's friend. I remember now." Danny pulled the whisk out of the liquid eggs and held it out to the body. The unusually animate cadaver mostly prodded the whisk wires and paid no attention to him. "No one's here but me, though. Not that it's your business...?"
"And there are no non-living bodies currently in your apartment?"
Danny ignored the flushing noise in the other room. "I don't know, dude. They practically live in the walls at this point. Don't come over unless you have a warrant."
The call ended with a click.
His omelette turned out amazing, by the way. In case you were wondering.
On the fourth day, the ectoplasm was gone, because the corpses had apparently all taught each other how to lockpick the container in the fridge.
"Okay, some of that was meant to be my dinner. No more lotion at the funeral home now, okay? Now you all can be ashy forever. I'm so serious," Danny complained to the only visible dead person in the room.
The dead person held up a cracked egg. It was probably a gesture of peace, but now there was egg on his vinyl flooring to deal with. And. It wasn't exactly all that comforting in the end.
On the fifth day, Danny awoke to the sensation of a hand jamming itself through his neck until it punched into the mattress beneath him.
Fuck.
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