How long does the Elixir of Hill Giant Strength last in BG3?

So, you’ve chugged a dubious brew that tastes like gym socks marinated in dragon tears, and now you’re flexing like a hill giant at a Renaissance fair. Congratulations! But let’s cut to the chase: the Elixir of Hill Giant Strength lasts until your next Long Rest. That’s right—those bulging biceps and newfound ability to yeet goblins into orbit vanish faster than a rogue’s morals when they spot a shiny trinket. Consider it the universe’s way of saying, “Enjoy your temporary godhood, mortal.”

So, How Long Are We Talking?

In Baldur’s Gate 3 timekeeping, “until Long Rest” translates to roughly:

• One adventuring day (or until you decide to nap through reality)
• Several questionable life choices (e.g., picking fights with owlbears)
• Enough time to bench-press a sheep (if that’s your thing)

It’s the ultimate short-term rental for your muscles. No subscriptions, no hidden fees—just pure, unadulterated brawn on a strict expiration date.

But Wait, What Does That Mean In Real Life?

Imagine drinking a magic protein shake that turns you into The Rock… until you take a single power nap. Poof! Back to noodle arms. That’s the Elixir of Hill Giant Strength in a nutshell. Use it wisely: clear that dungeon, smash that door, or intimidate that surly bartender before your character remembers they’re actually a wizard who struggles to open jars.

Pro tip: Don’t get too attached to hurling boulders like a fantasy quarterback. The elixir’s effects are as fleeting as a bard’s commitment to monogamy. Stockpile a few, and you’ll at least look *consistently* ridiculous juggling warhammers between Long Rests.

What is the best strength elixir in bg3?

Ah, the eternal question: which magical juice turns your Tav into a Hulk-smashing, door-kicking, goblin-yeeting legend? The answer, dear adventurer, depends on whether you prefer your muscles “subtle like a owlbear” or “I just punched a dragon into a tax audit.” Let’s dive into the chaos.

The Usual Suspects: Potions That Make Your Biceps Blush

• Elixir of Hill Giant Strength (21 STR): The “My First God Mode” starter pack. Found in Act 1, it’s perfect for when you need to carry 15 cabbages, a dead gnome, and your dignity. Pro tip: pairs well with the “I accidentally aggroed the entire goblin camp” lifestyle.
• Elixir of Cloud Giant Strength (27 STR): The Beyoncé of elixirs—rare, flawless, and makes you irresistible. Chug this, and suddenly every locked door is a suggestion, every enemy a chew toy. Downside: You’ll mourn your puny post-elixir existence.

The Dark Horse: A Surprising Contender

Don’t sleep on the Elixir of Frost Giant Strength (23 STR). It’s the middle child of potions—often overlooked, but secretly the one who’ll yeet Ketheric Thorm into orbit. Perfect for flexing on intellect devourers while maintaining that “I didn’t even try” vibe. Bonus: No one questions why you’re hoarding 37 barrels of smokepowder.

Honorable Mention: Auntie Ethel’s “Special Brew.” Sure, it gives +21 STR, but at what cost? Your soul? A future side quest? Her creepy cackle echoing in your dreams? Worth it. Probably.

Remember, the “best” elixir is whichever one lets you suplex a mind flayer without spilling your wine. Just don’t mix them—unless you want your muscles to achieve sentience and write a self-help book.

What is the value of the potion of Hill Giant strength?

Ah, the Potion of Hill Giant Strength—a liquid lunch for the scrawny sorcerer, the meek monk, or anyone who’s ever lost an arm-wrestling match to a suspiciously strong halfling bartender. But what’s it actually worth? Well, let’s just say its value depends on whether you’re buying, selling, or accidentally chugging it during a tense diplomatic negotiation. Spoiler: Don’t do that.

Gold, Goblins, and the Fine Art of Price Gouging

According to dusty old tomes (and that one sketchy alchemist behind the tavern), this potion’s market value hovers around 50-100 gold pieces. But let’s be real—pricing is a flexible art. Factors include:

• Urgency: Are you about to fight a troll? That’s an automatic 200% “desperation tax.”
• Rarity: Hill giants aren’t exactly handing out signed consent forms for their essence. Supply chain issues, people.
• Branding: “Grunk’s Muscle Milk” sells better than “Unlabeled Vial of Questionable Goo.”

Strength: It’s Not Just for Flexing in Tavern Mirrors

Beyond gold, the potion’s real value lies in its ability to turn your puny 8 STR wizard into a temporary himbo. Suddenly, you can:

• Carry the party’s loot and the unconscious barbarian.
• Open stuck pickle jars… or dungeon doors. Same energy.
• Intimidate bandits by crushing a watermelon with your bare hands (pro tip: bring a watermelon).

Just remember: effects fade. So maybe don’t挑战 that dragon to a push-up contest.

Still, the potion’s true worth? The memories. Like that time your rogue used it to YEET a goblin into the stratosphere. Priceless—or at least worth 75 gold and a mildly traumatized goblin.

How to get club of hill giant strength bg3?

Step 1: Find the guy who REALLY loves tadpoles

To snag this gloriously chonky stick, you’ll need to track down Ferg Drogher, a delightfully sketchy fellow lurking in Rivington during Act 3. Think of him as Baldur’s Gate’s answer to a back-alley carnival barker, except instead of stuffed animals, he’s hawking magic items for mindflayer parasites. Yes, you read that right. His currency is squid-adjacent brain snacks. Bring him one (or loot it from a very specific githyanki corpse earlier), and he’ll happily trade it for the Club of Hill Giant Strength. Pro tip: If you forgot to pack a parasite, just nod awkwardly and pretend you’re here to discuss his *~*~artisanal tentacle collection*~*~.

Step 2: Embrace your inner raccoon (optional)

Not keen on parting with your precious illithid collectibles? Channel your inner trash panda! You can also pickpocket Ferg while he’s busy muttering about “the great prism in the sky” or whatever cryptic nonsense he’s into. Just be warned:

• Success: You get a club that turns you into the Hulk’s slightly less green cousin.
• Failure: You get a front-row seat to Rivington’s least-friendly mob chase. Bring snacks.

Step 3: Whack responsibly

Once the club is yours, prepare for a moral crisis. Do you use its 19 Strength to yeet goblins into orbit? Or do you gently bonk enemies while whispering *“I’m sorry, little one”*? The choice is yours, but remember: this isn’t just a weapon. It’s a lifestyle. A *heavy*, slightly splintery lifestyle. Also, maybe invest in a chiropractor. Swinging a tree trunk at vampires does wonders for your back… if by “wonders” you mean “eternal regret.”

Still club-less? Check your pockets. Check the astral plane. Check under the rug. It’s probably wherever you left that second pair of socks.