(Ivy predictably approves. So much.)

She will just be ignoring how he’s made it weird.

“Oh, good! … Probably easiest if you just tell them to stop, though. Oh True Soul.”

"We're True Souls, too."

"You can feel free to take point. As a benefit you get a drop-dead gorgeous druid calling you 'my lord'. Had my insides aflutter, that."

Well now she’s going to turn pink and bury her head in her hands, embarrassed.

“….. I was thinking for the overall cohesion of the narrative but, but, I. Hells. I’ve cleverly signed myself up for genuflecting to all of you, haven’t I.”

"You absolutely have, darling. Now let's see about rescuing a gnome."

Yes! That! That is a thing to think about that is very important and not at all related to her sexual panic!

Off they go, to save a gnome.

The gnome in question is currently tied to one of the blades of the windmill, getting heckled by goblins.

“Try flapping your wings, maybe that’ll help!” calls one of the latter group that looks like he’s probably in charge.

"Now what do you think you're doing?" demands Astarion, channelling all of his True Soul authority into his voice and body language—though not, yet, his True Soul magic. He wants to toy with these goblins a little bit before making them squirm.

“What’s it look like we’re doing? We’re having a bit o’ fun, teaching this gnome how to fly! Lookit him squirm up there!!”

"Let me rephrase that. Why are you doing this?"

“Didn’t you hear me? So he can fly! Won’t it be neat to see a flying gnome?”

"...it does look funny, I'll admit that much."

“Don’t it? Heh. And yeh couldn’t do that with no lousy human! It’s funniest when he’s squirming. Hey, mushroom muncher! Squirm or flap or somethin’, so our guest can get the full experience!”

(Ivy is so unhappy with this. She will be good and not go rogue and save the guy on her own or anything, but. So unhappy.)

"But say, where did you find him? I haven't seen any other gnomes hereabouts."

“Oh, he was on the road. Walking about with a bag too big fer‘im. Why, you want a gnome of your own?”

"You know, I think I might. I've heard they're great slaves."

"Well, get yer own! He's ours!!"

"Hmmmmmno, I think you'll find that he's mine."

“Hah! Funny. How’dya figure that, pretty boy?”

"See, darling, I want him, and I usually get the things I want. It can be the easy way or the fun way, and that's up to you and your friends here." He grabs a dagger from where it was attached to his waist and starts playing with it.

“What the—? Hey! That’s mine!”

The goblin absolutely looks ready to throw a punch.

"No," he says, eyes glowing with tadpole power. "It's mine."

“A True Soul—?” gasps the now very regretful goblin, who then proceeds to start groveling. With some sniveling and crying on the side.

“O—of course it’s yours, sir, my, my mistake, and the gnome, you can have the gnome, too, he was getting boring anyway, and, and, and.”

Glow fades. "Now be a dear and untie him then move along before I decide I also want a goblin slave—" he looks around at the other goblins around "—or five."