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Summary
Gale had spent nearly two hundred years hidden from the sun, stuck close to the side of the one who made him. He knew he had a coveted position kneeling at Mystra's right hand, her favorite spawn, and he'd do anything to take his rightful place there again. But he betrayed her, and she was well within her rights to cast him out to the streets of their beloved Waterdeep with only the sewer rats and the rotting dead carcasses of fish to sustain him. It was what he deserved.
Once the Archmage of Baldur's Gate, Astarion Ancunín was at one time a highly revered wizard, one of his god's, albeit many, chosen. And of course he was the only one that Cazador could trust in retrieving what remained of the Weave that was not in his control. That was how he'd ended up with a Netherese orb in his chest, suffering the consequences of disappointing a god, stuck in the shadow of the ever-arrogant Lorroakan that'd taken his place.
But the tadpoles change everything.
(On unintentional (hopefully short-lived) hiatus)