You were never easy to place. Too strange for one world, too guarded for another. That was before a mind flayer drove a parasite into your skull. Now you travel with a band of companions who don't know what you are. They see the horns, the tail, the eyes that catch the firelight wrong, and they call you tiefling and leave it there. But the shift is coming. It always comes. And the druid keeps looking at you like he already knows the word for what you are, even if he hasn't said it yet. Baldur's Gate doesn't care about your secrets. It just wants to see what breaks first.