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[vampiric-horrors]

We need YOUR help!

(Warning that we wont be able to pay workers due to personal problems.)

[hard-boiled-criminal]

Social Anxiety Really Ruins the Isekai Experience

Previously known as: Brimstone from the Throat

Chapter 5 - Why You Shouldn't Plague Your Patron With Your Earthling Pickup Lines

< Ch 4 | Ch 6 >

>Ch 1<

Masterlist

Ao3 Mirror

Due to myself being an idiot, present and past tense are getting jumbled. Please don’t mind the tense shifts too much.

Current Nicknames (not including situation variations):

Tav: Fashion Disaster (FD)

Shadowheart: N/A

Lae’zel: Cowabunger

Astarion: Preminger

Gale: Farquaad Star Squad Reject (FSSR)

Wyll: Calcifaust

The three of you head back up the stairs to the tiefling’s area as the grove, for lack of better terms to call it, new lute in hand. You pass by the young tiefling girl, safely reunited with her parents who smile at your group as you approach. 

Garquaad in his benevolence towards everyone but you stops in front of them and asks them for a bit more information on the gnolls after checking up on them, which they thank him for, what with your group being the reason their daughter still drew breath.

Fairly close to the top of the staircase opposite from the cart oxen stands the rest of the group. None look impatient, save for Cowabunger, but that doesn’t really come as a surprise, so it’s probably safe to say they only met up here recently. That was good. That means you weren’t delayed enough that they would question you on your lateness and have to relive that humiliation display the two traitors pushed you into. You will remember that and you will have your revenge. It’s a dish best served cold, and the right time will come for them, you’re sure of it. The rest shuffle around a bit,   making room for the three of you to join the circle they’ve already made, officially disbanding the three teams to merge them into one.

“Now that we’re all here,” Tav begins after everyone settled, “Let’s discuss what we’ve found.”

“Chk! There is no need,” Lae’zel objects. “The tiefling-” she emphasized her correct pronunciation “-has marked on the map where they came across my kin. We must head there to find the crèche!”

“Lae’zel, I understand your eagerness to go, but we should still hear what everyone else has to say,” FD tries to placate her. “There is also a chance they were a scout, so the crèche may not be in that direction. The more information we have on the surrounding area, the easier time we’ll have pinpointing its exact location.”

Cowabunger crosses her arms and scowls. “I am loath to admit it, but your words have sense in them. Very well. We shall do things your way.”

“All right,” FD smiles and walks over to a nearby crate, still wearing that ugly robe, the rest of you following. There she spreads open a map on the crate’s surface, an area to the far northwest circled in charcoal. “This-” she points to the circle “-is where Zorru spotted the githyanki. And here-” she points to an area south of the githyanki sighting “-is where the adventurers were attacked by goblins and the First Druid, Halsin, was captured. It seems the reason the adventurers were headed that way in the first place was to find a treasure called the “Nightsong” that’s hidden in the temple located near there. A wizard in Balder’s Gate is willing to pay a great sum to whoever retrieves it for them. What’s everyone else found out?”

“There’s a pack of gnolls also to the northeast, and their numbers seem to be quite substantial,” Farquhar Reject states your group’s findings. “I think it’s safe to say there’s at least twenty of them last seen in this area,” he points to an area northwest of the grove, closer than where the githyanki was spotted. “We also heard a small bit about some ruins to the south that might be occupied, but we didn’t get a chance to ask exactly where that was.”

Calcifaust points to an area a short distance south of the grove. “That’s probably around here. We found out there have been sightings around here of multiple people unaffiliated with the grove, but we’re not sure how many. The ruins are where they are probably camping out. I want to investigate as soon as possible. I’m not comfortable having others so close to the grove without knowing if they’re hostile or not, especially when there’s a chance that devil could be there. There’s also a harpy nest near the beach you can reach by going north through the part of the grove the druids are currently occupying, but as long as we don’t approach, we should be fine.”

“We have three options then: northeast, east, and south,” FD gestured to the three areas discussed on the map. “Where shall we head?”

“We head northeast to where the other of my kind was spotted. We need to head to the crèche for purification!” The resident resolute reptilian—amphibian? Platypus? Whatever Lae’zel was— put her foot down.

Calcyfausty shook his head. “That area is a day's walk from here, and there’s no guarantee they’re even still there. I’d like to check out the ruins south of here before anything else. It would be remiss of us if we were to go elsewhere while a potential threat lurks near the grove.”

“We should probably head to the temple where the goblins have gathered sooner rather than later. The likelihood of the First Druid’s survival falls with each passing day, assuming they’re still alive,” Great Wizard Gargle Fargle of the Stargle Squargle offers his opinion. “That group of goblins we fought was most likely a scouting party of some sort. More are bound to come poking their noses around soon once they realize their allies won’t be returning. Best to get the jump on them than the other way around.”

“I’m for the temple and goblin camp,” Tav begins. “Since we gave our word to rescue Halsin, along with the fact he may be able to cure us of our tadpoles, I think we should head there first.”

“Now that you’ve brought it to mind, I believe I’ve had my fill of that awful goblins stench, and on the other hand, musty decrepit ruins aren’t all that appealing to me,” Preminger grimaces. “I can’t believe I’m saying this but I think I’d rather take my chances with the gith.”

“I’d rather not,” Shadowheart scowls at the thought of agreeing with Cowabunger. “The ruins are nearby and might have something useful in them.”

It’s a three-way tie. Two votes for each option. Their gazes fall on the tiebreaker: you. 

You point to yourself, [Me? Really? The person with decision paralysis has to make the choice?] {Performance = 17, Success}.

“We’re at an impasse and you’re the only one left to vote,” FD places all the weight on you. “So, where do you think we should go? Which reminds me, if you have anything else to add, now or in the future,” she reaches into her pack and pulls out a book and a charcoal pencil wrapped in cloth, “you can try to write them down to communicate.”

You take them gratefully and open the book to show nothing but blank pages: a notebook. Or journal, whichever you prefer. The thought is sweet, even though you know writing things down won’t help. ‘I guess it’s up to me then.’ You look at the map and bring your hand to your mouth in thought. ‘If we were to go towards the githyanki, we’d also have to be prepared to fight through gnolls. If we don’t know the numbers of the people in the ruins, it could be dangerous, but there’s probably fewer than twenty if there’s only been minimal sightings… Since this is D&D, It’d probably be better to go there for exp to get strong enough to take on the larger amounts of enemies. Plus, it’s close to camp where we can rest if there’s more of them than expected and we need a safe place to take a breather.’ You quickly write down your reasonings for going to the southern ruins, minus the bit about exp, and show it to the others.

’If I’m being honest though, the other two places look like they’re a long ways away and I really don’t want to have to fight for my life after being made to walk for miles. Who knows how this map is scaled?’

You already knew they wouldn’t be literate in your language, but watching their faces twist in confusion was a bit funny. Besides, even on the off chance someone recognized the letters of the English alphabet, your mix of cursive and print in handwriting shitty enough to confuse a native reader(AKA yourself since you can’t read your own notes half the time) would throw them off any trails.

Garquaalomieu’s expression untwists from confusion to one of realization. “Perhaps I had it the other way around. It’s not that you've lost the ability to speak Common, but that you’ve gained the ability to understand it.” His eyes flicker from your notes to you, full of intrigue.

‘Hey, look at that, you’re actually being smart for once and have learned how to read the situation! How adorable.Not like I even want to tell them the actual truth so let’s go with that.’ You nod your head and give a thumbs up.

“These tadpoles are truly out of the ordinary. In a different circumstance they would make quite the interesting study.”

“Either way, none of us can read this, so can you point to where you decided on?” FD asks, steering the conversation back on track.

You point to the southern ruins.

“It’s decided then. Let’s stock up and prepare, then head out.”

A huff of annoyance from Cowabunger was the only complaint from the group, relieving the pressure you felt of being stuck with the ultimate choice of where to go. Calcifaust volunteered to get more supplies, seeing as he was already acquainted with the traders in the grove. Tav, being in charge of inventory and distribution, went with him.

‘What am I supposed to do now?’ You thought as you watched the two of them leave, the rest of the party staying nearby, but not striking up conversation with each other. You look at your hands, one occupied with a book and pencil, the other a lute. ‘I should be able to fit the lute in my bag even if its neck is sticking out, right?’ You place down your things on the now map-less crate, followed by your bag. Your bag was empty save for your tent and bedroll, which luckily could both be attached to the outside of the bag anyway. You carefully place your lute in the pack in a way that will allow the neck to stick out without preventing the tent-bundled-bedroll from being attachable. Your notebook and pencil are stuffed into your pants’ empty front pocket, just big enough to fit both items. 

‘Whoever designed these pants, I love you.’

“What, are you not going to pass the time with another one of your incredible tunes?”

You jump at the sudden voice and turn around to see Astarion in all his glorious Preminger-likeness, much closer than you were expecting. ‘Why is he so good at sneaking up on people? Normally that’s my job.’

Narrowing your eyes in a pseudo-glare, you wrap your hand around the neck of your gifted lute. [Have you already forgotten the chord I played for you? I can make you suffer again. Don’t tempt me.] {Intimidation = 11, Success}.

“I was only joking. It's not like I want to hear that horrid noise again,” he quickly backpedals. “But you must admit it’s strange that you carry around an instrument, two now, and take every opportunity to not play them. With the way you avoid attention rather than attract it, it makes sense you can’t be a bard: you’d be awful at it.”

Your gaze sharpens to a full glare. You make no movements. Just stare. ‘He’s doing this because he’s bored and wants a reaction out of you. Don’t give the bastard the satisfaction.’ You turn around and start affixing your bedroll to your pack. 

“Oh, pushed a few buttons, did I? What, do you have some dark or embarrassing secret you’re binding on why your path to barddom was ruined?”

’You know what. Fuck taking the high road.’ You begin to pull the lute back out of the bag.

“Alright, alright, I know when to not press any further. I’ll leave you to whatever dull things you do to occupy your time.” Disappointed at your lack of a fun reaction, Astarion frowns with a quiet “hmph” and walks away.

You turn and watch him approach his next victim, who looks to be FSSR, as you hoist your pack onto your shoulders. A single thought crosses your mind at the sight of his stupid back: ‘I wish I had tape so I could stick a note to his back that says “cuck me.”’

Calcifaust and FD returned a few minutes later and passed out their spoils to the others. FD, you see, is wearing a different outfit now, one that is all black. It is, quite clearly, a major improvement. ‘Wait, that means I have to come up with a new nickname now! Uugghhhh it’s so haaarrrdddd! Why can’t you just be more like Lae’zel and make it obvious what your nickname should be?’

Since Tav can’t hear your bemoaning about her in your brain, she happily provides you with two healing potions, which you store in an easily accessible area of your bag, plus a torch. Like an honest to god unlit fire stick you’d find in ancient tombs as movies would have you believe. 

“Here, you should also change into this,” Tav hands you a set of padded armor, much like Wyll’s, except dyed blue instead of red. She also hands you a set of plain clothes that she explains are meant for you to wear under the armor to prevent chafing. 

[Cool. So, uh, where should I change?]

Donned in your newly acquired set of uncomfortable clothes and armor that you practically had to fist fight before you could properly equip it, you rejoin the rest of the group after doing your best to quickly rinse the blood stain out of your pants from home. You got most of it out with some cold water, luckily only leaving the faintest traces so you could only spot it if you were actively looking for it. Your notebook is stowed away in your pack, your new pants’ pockets not large enough for it, and by that you mean it has no pockets–stupid period-typical inconvenience– but you were able to fit a small belt pouch under your armor that was big enough for your phone to fit, so it sits safely tucked away. 

“Everyone ready to head out?” Tav’s question receives affirmations from everyone and a nod from you. “Then let’s get moving.”

The wooden gate separating the grove from the outside world doesn’t budge right up until you’re close enough to touch it, and it closes as soon as the tiefling handling the winch confirms your entire group has left. Everyone walks in mostly silence, with one or two quips here and there, but everybody is focused on keeping an eye out for any unwelcome travelers. It’s boring and you find yourself reaching for your phone multiple times right before you stop yourself each time.

‘Am I really that dependent on instant gratification? I really do just reach for my phone when I’m bored, don’t I?’ In an attempt to help keep sticky fingers from reaching for the alien device, you grasp the straps of your pack. Hopefully, keeping your hands even somewhat occupied will help prevent any slip-ups. ‘Just, think about something- anything- else. Like what Tav’s new nickname is going to be. Purple people eater is too obvious an unoriginal, so let’s just get that idea out of the way right now.’ 

Unfortunately, you’re coming up blank. Your head, so empty, decides to fill itself with something besides ideas: lo fi hip hop beats to come up with nicknames to. You let the melody from your memories flow into your head. Your footsteps are quick to move in sync with the imaginary beat, your head soon subtly bobbing along too.

And then it happens. The thing you know will always happen but can never prevent it: The melody gets stuck at that one part where it loops endlessly in your mind and you can’t move on. You’re stuck. The only way to get unstuck is to listen to it, but you can’t. You’d need to use your phone. Not even the gods know when you’ll escape the loop.

‘...Astaroth, you’re so lucky you’re not here right now to experience this torture- this curse I’ve been burdened with…If you can hear this, for your own wellbeing, don’t come back yet. You will regret it. You don’t have to suffer with me.’

Once more, you pass the remnants of the wooden cage Cowabunger was suspended in but a day ago. The sight does nothing to inspire you. No, you simply can do nothing but bear with the looping music to your best ability.

Oblivious to your suffering, everyone continued onward towards some gray stone pillars you just barely caught a glimpse of before Tav came to a sudden halt and crouched, then motioned for everyone to do the same. She slowly inches forward and beckons your group of misfits to follow. {Stealth = 19, Success}.

You stay near the back of the crowd and watch as Tav peers around the stone and underbrush. She lifts up her hand and raises four fingers.

‘Four? As in there’s four people over there or she wants four people to back her up? Or maybe go in four seconds? Wait, no, it’s been a few seconds and she’s not counting down.’ 

Supposedly deeming it safe, she stands out of the crouch and waves her arm in a sweep to signal the rest of you to stand and follow. That’s what you gather as that’s seemingly what everyone else does. Naturally, you follow suit. She strides into the stone ruins with confidence. 

‘You know, in this light, she’s the same color as a standard Gameboy Advance.’

A short man, probably a gnome by his looks if you’re getting your D&D knowledge right, standing on a stone half-wall comes into view as you pass the stone pillars of the ruins. The half wall overlooks a substantial drop to a staircase leading towards a door to the ruins, and an identical wall across from that with a human standing guard there. The construction of the ruins makes it feel like a canyon with stairs instead of a river running through it. 

The gnome whips around when he hears your group approaching, “You! Not another step, hear me? Boss! Got company up here,” He calls out to his left, where you can see a human and another gnome down a flight of stairs, standing near a statue.

‘Oh my god, he’s a classic goon-slash-grunt. Never thought I’d see one in real life.’

Immediately taking notice, the two of them clamber up the stairs until the other gnome stands in front of Tav, “What’s this then–trying to creep around us and loot the crypt? Not happening. Or is it the ship you’re after? Don’t matter either way–it’s ours, all of it.”

“Your loud words hide fear, confusion. Looting that ship will bring you no peace,” Tav states with a steadfast authority you weren’t expecting. “Naught but death awaits those who dare try their luck with the wreckage.”

’Look at you, sounding like a sage in a classic JRPG. Yeah, you’re gonna be called Default Gameboy Advance from now on.’

“Well, uh, in that case… C’mon you lot, no point in gettin’ killed. Second worm gets the cheese, an’ all…” The gnome quickly acquiesces, his bravado having vanished to leave naught but nervousness.

“Uh, second mouse gets the cheese, no?” The human man corrects him.

“Nobody’s getting any damn cheese! Now move it!”

The four people, looters you guess, are quick to scurry off.

“It would have been quicker to kill them,” Cowabunger comments once they’re out of earshot.

“Maybe, but we need to conserve our energy,” Tav, or Default GBA, explains. “If the devil Karlach is in the crypt, we’ll have an intense battle to fight. The less strength we waste, the better.”

“This devil best put up a good fight, if nothing else, to be worth the time we are wasting.”

D-GBA leads your group down the stairs, around the crumbling area in front of the statue the boss-man and goons were loitering around earlier, and down the next flight of stairs through the manmade canyon, stopping in front of the heavy-looking door. She puts her ear up to the door for a moment. You watch her eyes narrow before she takes out her staff and pulls away from the door to over at the rest of the group. You watch as the others around you pull out their weapons.

‘Oh, uh, okay,’ still not used to your powers, you fumble a bit as you summon your violin and bow into your hands and get in ready-position.

Slowly, Tav reaches for and grabs the door ring. She pulls it taught, careful to not cause the metal to grind against each other and make any loud noises. With a step back she yanks on it. It doesn’t budge. She pushes at the door. Doesn’t budge. Locked. She opens her mouth to speak but another voice cuts her off before she can begin.

“That you, Gimblebock?” A muffled voice echoes through the door. “Everything all right out there?”

“Gimblebock triggered some trap,” Tav improvises, voice frantic but her expression says otherwise. “He needs help- now!”

“I told him it wasn’t safe out there. Get inside, and I’ll rustle up some bandages…”

You hear the click of the door being unlocked. Tav nods to the rest of you and opens the door. You all step inside. Hearing more footsteps than he was expecting, the man who unlocked the door turns around.

He takes a step back, “Who the hells?” Torch in hand, he quickly brandishes his sword with the other. “You’re dead!”

Tav is quick to rush in and strike him with her new quarterstaff she picked up from one of the merchants in the grove. As he stumbles from the impact, you clumsily place all four fingers down on the e-string and screech out a note, firing an eldritch blast at him. {Attack Roll = 17, Hit}, {Force Damage = 3}. He staggers, but doesn’t fall. With a snarling face he rushes towards Tav but doesn’t get very far when Astarion appears behind him and sinks a dagger into the side of his neck. He uses the blade to basically flick the man to the ground as he removes the dagger. You watch as the man sputters and gurgles on the floor, blood oozing from his wound in a steady stream and dripping from his mouth whenever it opens. He stops moving. He’s not conscious, but he’s still alive– the blood is still pulsing out of him, his heart still beating, working to pump blood and keep its body alive if only the blood wouldn’t gush out of the wound with each contraction. It won’t be long before he’s dead.

You look away, taking in a deep breath through your mouth as you try to push down the nausea rising in your gut. ‘Inhale… One… two… three… exhale…’ You breathe out through your nose, slow and controlled. ‘Seeing somebody dying is way worse than seeing a body that’s already dead.’ You carefully step around the soon-to-be-new-dead-body and down the half-flight of stairs.

« Would some good news help? »

‘Oh, hi… You know, when you said you were going away for a bit to recharge your powers or something, I was expecting longer than half a day.’

« I had initially thought so as well. As of yet, I’m not sure if it’s a side effect of the tadpole, that your body is used to a magic-less realm, or perhaps even something else entirely, but you’re gaining power incredibly quickly. Your body seems to absorb the traces of what you refer to as mana in the world around you, including the runoff of spells that have been cast not just by you, but by others as well. Not only is it strange that you absorb it, but you are absorbing it at an unprecedented rate. »

‘So I’m a mana vacuum? Does this mean I can just keep absorbing and never run out of magic? That’s pretty broken.’

« Broken is an apt term for it, but not in the way you’re using it. At the moment, your body isn’t able to accommodate such high amounts of mana. I’ve been siphoning the excess as it enters you for your own safety, but it has turned out to be enough to allow us to converse freely without depleting any energy. In fact, your intake is high enough where I’m still gaining a fractional amount as we speak. Minuscule, but it is still a net gain. »

‘“For my own safety?” What would’ve happened if you weren’t taking the excess?’

« Much like water, it would travel through you like a river and find the path of least resistance where it could escape. If you don’t consciously let the mana out of you, it will erode at the weakest point until it makes an opening to escape from. Based on your memories, I think an appropriate analogy is to think of your body as a balloon and mana as the air getting pumped into it. After a while, you would burst. »

Your eyes widen. ‘...Fun.’ You mentally grimace with a little bit of terror. You really didn’t want to inflate to death.

« On a lighter note, you’ve grown stronger and have new abilities! You should also be able to freely summon and dismiss your instrument as many times as you wish. Such is the good news I previously mentioned. »

‘Ooooh, a level up? Perfect timing! Now I don’t have time to think about things too deeply and have an existential crisis!’

« …We're going to have a talk later because I am very worried for your mental health, but yes, you have gained an incremental increase in power, to put it in more defined terms, or a “level up” as you call it. »

‘You don’t need to worry about my mental health; I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’ve dealt with worse.’

« … » Astaroth spoke no words, but the silence that felt like a leveling stare said enough.

‘...ugh, fine, we’ll talk about feelings and unpack this at camp.’

« Good. »

‘Soooo, what are those shiny new abilities you mentioned?’

He sighs softly, « Since you’ve given your word, I suppose we can change the topic now. I have granted you a new invocation and spell. You can now read all writing and can cast the spell Illusory Script. The spell, while active, will allow the intended meaning of whatever you write to be understandable by any parties you choose. »

‘So it will auto-translate my writing? Cool, I’ll make sure they don’t know I can do this for as long as possible, but–’ you interject before Astaroth can say anything– ‘I’ll make sure to use it when necessary. I won’t let my anxiety be the reason my party members get hurt. So, thank you, Astaroth. Really.’

« Don’t worry; I won’t push you on the matter. In the meantime, I’ll be working on getting us a gift. »

‘Ooooooh, a gift? What is it?’

« That’s for me to know, and you to be surprised with. »

‘Awww, c’mooooon, just a hint?’

« Nope. »

‘Booooo! ‘

« Just go have fun exploring and watch out for traps. »

‘Fiiiiiine… Let’s listen to some music tonight.’ You smile. ‘Well, listen or mentally listen. I’m sure my brain can remember at least one song in full.’

« I’d like nothing more. »

‘Soooo, since it seems like you’ll be sticking around, that means you’ll go back to being my personal secret agent in my ear and guiding me in fights again, right?’

« It would probably be best if I do not. »

‘...what do you mean “it’d probably be best if you don’t,” I think the best option is, oh, you know, me not dying!’

« Yes, and that is the reason why I will not be. It would be dangerous to let you grow dependent on it. A time may very well come again when our connection is severed and you must endure on your own for a time. You must hone your instincts and battlesense now so that you can form a firm foundation. »

‘That… hahhhh, yeah, yeah, that makes a lot of sense.’

« I appreciate how quick you are to see reason. »

With the mental conversation reaching a good stopping point and the fact you’ve distracted yourself enough to forget about the now-probably-dead-body, you tune back into your surroundings, seeing everyone carefully rummaging through the boxes and other storage containers scattered about. To the left is a nondescript wooden door. Straight in front of you is a long dining table with food and drinks left on it, a fireplace in the wall behind the head of it. The walls are wood in some places and stone in others. Your gaze is attracted to a metal plaque hanging crookedly on the wall to your right. Shadowheart and Tav are standing near it, looking at it as well. You approach to get a better look. She looks at you out of the corner of her eye when you stop next to her.

“Who do you think these prayers are for?” She asks absently, not truly expecting any answer. “Normally the patron god is obvious– not here.”

You run your fingers across the words and suppress a flinch as the letters on the plaque tremble and warp beneath your fingertips until they reassemble themselves into English: 

“Hear my words as they might be your last. Be careful.” 

‘Ominous… wait a minute— how did that—‘

« Ah, it seems I had forgotten to mention as you are not yet used to this. An additional effect of the language comprehension module I integrated into your brain is how it applies to written words. Should you trace a language I know with your fingers, the module will translate it. It is a form of illusion magic that will cause you to see your own script in its place. »

‘What do I do if I can’t reach it?’

« Sufffer, I suppose. »

’Gee, thanks.’

You shrug in response to Shadowheart. You don’t know enough about the Faerûnian deities to know if these words are a catchphrase of sorts for one of them, but you weren’t about to expend a spell slot to ask. ‘Still, no matter how I look at it, this doesn’t read like a prayer.’

“It’s a dead tongue, by the look of it. It’ll be too hard to identify the deity without knowing the language,” Tav states. “Whoever worshipped here must be long gone, though, so in the end it doesn’t matter much,” She walks away after a small shrug of her own, off to investigate the rest of the room.

‘Wait, a dead tongue? But I can read it now… Holy shit, I am an archaeologist’s wet dream. Or philologist? Archaeological philologist? Ah, whatever.’

Tav soon gathered everyone together to approach the door across the room from the plaque after everyone had rifled through the supplies and grabbed what they deemed necessary to take. “Everyone ready to keep going?” A round of nods ran through the group. “Good. Let’s move.” Tav approached the door, and just like before, she put her ear up to it and listened. Her eyes glanced over to Astarion. “How good are you with the bow?” she whispered.

“Very,” Astarion whispered back with a smirk as he pulled out his bow and notched an arrow.

“Alright, everyone else, back up and get low.” 

The rest of us did as told, everyone in a crouch with only Tav and Astarion near the door. With a nod from him, Tave pulled the lever on the wall and the door swung open. Astarion took aim, pulled back and fired, all within the span of a high crouch jump.

‘Oh, he’s a rogue! Yeah that makes sense. Sneak attack damage is crazy good.’

“How’d you get past Andorn?!” the human woman Astarion had shot cried out after letting out an awful scream of pain. She didn’t get to say much before Gale hit her with a glacies and Tav rushed her and struck with her staff. As quickly as the fight had started, it was over. 

The threat gone, everyone raised from their sneaking poses and took a look around the room. To the left there was a door that was opened after Tav did her routine check. There wasn’t much inside but there was some sunlight that leaked through the gaps in the ceiling. To the right of the main room was a door with neither lock nor handle. You gave it a slight push, but it didn’t move. The last door, on the far wall across from where you entered, was the group’s next target. Tav didn’t even need to put her ear up against it; you could hear the loud conversation happening as you neared. Perhaps that was why they hadn’t come running— with how loud they were, they wouldn’t have been able to hear their comrade’s scream.  Nobody needed to be told to ready their weapons this time. 

Astarion took to the front with Tav again. As soon as she pushed open the door, he loosed the arrow on the first person he saw. Everyone rushed into the room after the first shot, taking advantage of the surprise attack. Tav rushed the man Astarion hit, striking him in the stomach with a jab as soon as he turned around to face your group. Cowabunger leapt down the flight of stairs and sprinted to the left towards a duergar, you think they’re called, or dvergr maybe, hitting them with a mean downwards slash of her flame-wreathed blade she must have picked up from the fiend on the nautilus. 

You began to play the melody of the song you had stuck in your head earlier and took aim at the already wounded man in your direct line of sight. Another eldritch blast fired from your instrument. {Attack Roll = 6, Miss}. The man, seeing your magic projectile, ducks, the blast going past him and into the floor. The Starsquad Reject fires a glacies towards someone on the right– you glance over and see a tall man, but afford him no more time than that. Calcifaust runs down the stairs and throws his momentum into a lunge towards the man you missed, stabbing him in the chest with a rapier. The enemy falls to the ground, incapacitated. Or dead. You can’t really tell from here. Shadowheart moves closer to the action, but stays out of direct contact, ready to sling healing spells at whoever needs them.

Target down, Wyll moves to the right and does something the man The FSSR had hit. You’re not sure what, but they suddenly look fatigued. GBA runs towards the back where a human in robes readies her quarterstaff behind a statue of a robed figure. Astarion darts towards the duergar Lae’zel is in combat with, flanking them. He stabs them from behind with his dagger, and they fall  to the ground as soon as it is removed. Tav makes a strike against the figure in the back, who retaliates with a burst of ice, the sharp spikes cutting into her. You’re now six seconds into your song and you’re able to fire off another blast, so you turn your gaze to the man Wyll fatigued, hoping that with their ailment they’ll be easier to hit. Apparently, that’s not how it works. {Attack Roll = 6, Miss}. Your face scrunches into an annoyed scowl as you miss again.

Gale’s ignis hits the man you missed in the face, causing him to cry out and not notice Wyll in time before he’s stabbed with a rapier. Shadowheart moves close enough to help Tav with a healing word as Cowabunger dashes around the right of the statue and pulls out her bow, firing an arrow at the mage engaged with Tav, Preminger in quick pursuit. The man, after shaking off the two consecutive attacks, releases a thunderous warcry and slams his spiked club down on Wyll, the blow forcing him to the ground, but he’s quick to roll away and get back up on his feet, thrusting at the man again. It pierces through his chest, and he falls to the ground dead as Wyll pulls the blade out of him. Astarion, having sprinted towards the mage alongside Lae’zel, was quick to rush in with another stab as soon as Lae’zel’s arrow hit its mark. The mage’s cry is silenced as Tav finishes her off with a brutal blow to the head with her staff.

Another round of everyone looting bodies and chests occurred, you sticking to looking in the chests only. A ghastly shriek that did not sound like it could have been made by any human throat accompanied by rapidly clicking metal resounded through the chamber, causing you to flinch and look up from the sadly empty chest. 

“Wonder what that did,” you looked over to D-GBA when she spoke, seeing her hand on a metal pull bar held in the jaws of a humanoid skull. Morbid.

“The sound came from the last room we were in,” Gale remarked. 

[I’ll go check it out], you mime. {Performance = 20, Success}. ‘I’ll gladly take a room with one body over one with four.’

“All right, any of you don’t feel like looting go with them,” Tav says as she looks at the others. “Otherwise, help me clear the room.”

Shadowheart and Astarion end up joining you, neither of them interested in rifling through the bookshelves in search of any magic scrolls or potential hidden passages after they finished looting the corpses. 

You don’t hesitate to leave the room, eager to escape the stench of iron growing more pungent by the minute. As soon as you crossed through the doorway, you didn’t have to go far to see the change: the immovable door was now open. Curious, you head in and see an altar devoid of anything except candles, two more headless statues and a tapestry hanging on the far wall where another door resides. 

‘It’s just an airlock, or well, a vestibule, technically. Kinda disappointing, not gonna lie.’

You decided you’d better do what Tav had been doing and put your ear up to the closed door. [Nothing,] you shake your head and lean your back against the door. [Guess we wait, then?] {Performance Roll = Natural 20, critical success}.

“I’ll go let them know what we’ve found, I suppose,” Shadowheart exits the room, leaving just you and Astarion.

 It’s silent, the two of you just waiting. Astarion starts flipping his dagger into the air and catching it out of boredom, the action making you tense each time it falls. One wrong move and he could lose his fingers. You really wanna say something to help diffuse your own anxiety over it, either get him to stop or at least reassure you that it would be fine, but with you unable to talk and him being the type of person who would tease or belittle you for your worry, you weren’t really going to chance speaking up. Even if you were getting more and more anxious each time he caught the dagger, only to flick it upwards again. 

‘But (y/n),’ your mentally exhausted mind pipes up, ‘what if we spoke anyway?‘

‘But I don’t want to talk, that’s like, our whole thing? Because, you know, social anxiety plus language barrier?’ You reply to yourself.

‘Okay but hear me out. If we do, it could help us calm down since it would be funny to see the bastard man so confused. Could be fun. Also, since he can’t understand us: no repercussions for what we say.’

‘You make a convincing argument, (y/n).’

‘Thank you, (y/n).’

“So, I, uh… heard you had twelve terabytes of pornography.”

“...” Astarion stops playing with his stabbing instrument and turns to look at you, not amused.

‘Why the hell d’you open with that of all things?!’

‘I don’t know! I panicked! I said the first part and my brain filled in the rest because “hehe funny reference” and it accidentally slipped out before I could stop it! Besides, you said this is a no repercussions discussion; I’m sure everything will be fine. Just be glad it wasn’t the Mississippi pick up line.’

‘Mmm, fair…’

« The “Mississippi pick up line?” Also, I’ve been meaning to ask: why do you simulate conversations with yourself in your thoughts? »

‘Oh no.’

“I hope you’re not using the fact that I don’t understand whatever it is that you're saying to say something foul to my face,” Astarion pulls you from your mind conversation.

[No, no no no, that’s not it, don’t worry.] ‘I mean, I’m not lying. He is trying to ask if I’m insulting him, right? Yeah.’

The room falls to silence again. He’s looking at you. He raises an eyebrow. Oh, he’s looking at you since he’s expecting further explanation!

[Nevermind. It’s not important,] you wave it off. {Persuasion = 10, success}

He seems to accept it, and goes back to lazily tossing his dagger with an ease that doesn’t make you any less uneasy.

« So, would you like to start with Mississippi or why you were talking to yourself the same way you talk to me? »

‘I’ll have you know that having conversations with yourself in your head is very normal where I come from, thank you very much.’

« I suppose I’ll take your word for it; I don’t know too much about your world nowadays. But why’d you say “oh no” when I asked about that “Mississippi–” »

‘Oh, hey, you know, now that I’m thinking about it, I had a few questions I wanted to ask you: You Wyll a Fiend’s Puppet?” What’s that?’

« …Put simply, someone who’s made a pact with a fiend. That one in particular reeks of cambion. »

‘You can tell what type of devil they made a pact with just by their smell?’

« Yes? Oh, right, I had forgotten. Mortals like yourself don’t have a sense of smell as acute as demons such as myself and the like. »

‘Wait, so, since I made a pact with you, does that mean I smell like you?’

« Only when you channel my powers or cast magic. For a brief moment, you will smell of brimstone. »

‘Brimstone, huh? I thought that was more of a ‘hells and devils’ thing, not an abyssal demon thing. Well, actually, we don’t really distinguish between devils and demons back home, but I know it’s different here.’

« While normally you would be correct, I don’t quite have a smell anymore other than brimstone and burnt flesh, since, well, you know. In fact, if any were to notice the smell, they would probably assume you’ve made a pact with a devil rather than me. Outside of that though, no mortals should be able to tell you’ve made a pact since most gods or patrons who would notice do not actively converse to their patrons as we do. »

I pursed my lips, reminded of the suffering Astaroth must be going through. ‘Well, I suppose smelling like a freshly struck match isn’t so bad. In fact, I kinda like the smell’** 

« (っ´▽｀)っ » You feel Astaroth’s desire to fondly tussle your hair. « Now, about the Missi– »

‘ALSO, I don’t know if you saw but when we mindmelded with Wyll, I din’t feel your hatred when we saw the devil woman. Is it because you weren’t around?’

« …You are partially correct. While it is true that when I am not connected with you, you will not feel my hatred for fiends, but when it comes to viewing memories, I cannot discern what the truth is. Mortal memories are easily swayed and distorted. What he believes to be the truth may not be. Memories influenced heavily by emotion cannot be trusted. »

‘That’s true. If someone tries hard enough, they can gaslight themselves to the point of misremembering something and being convinced that the memory they altered themselves is the truth.’

« ”Gaslight?” That is a term I am unfamiliar with. I must study your vernacular more. »

‘One of the three “g’s”: Gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss. Handy terms to know. Oh, and you can’t forget the fourth horseman of the apocalypse: Gamer.’

« I have a feeling you made that last one up. »

‘Sure did. But in my experience, anybody who unironically calls themself a gamer is typically somebody you wanna avoid.’

« Now, I believe I’ve answered your questions and spent long enough allowing you to avoid my own. What is this “Mississippi pick up line?” »

‘ Hahh….. Fine. Okay, so pickup lines. They’re a form of flirting that takes the structure of a question followed by the reason why you asked. For example: Are you from Tennessee? Because you’re the only ten I see. That one probably doesn’t make sense since you don’t have cultural context, but you get the point. That’s the structure. Now, Mississippi is a place from my world. And, ugh, I can’t believe I’m saying this to my patron, but the line goes like this: Are you from Mississippi? ‘Cause you’re the only miss whose piss I’d sippy.’

« …That was vile. »

‘...I know, and I’m deeply ashamed by how funny I find it.’

« I’ll forgive you if you say that to the next devil we come across. »

‘Bet.’

« That was merely a jest, but now I’m looking forward to it. Make sure you have Illusory Script ready to go. »

‘...Well fuck me, I guess. But I keep my promises, so I guess I’m doing it.’

You then remember that the next devil you’ll probably come across will be Karlach. You know. The really handsome brain lady.

‘Oh no, she’s going to hate me! And I was so ready to pretend-flirt with her by saying Johnny Bravo lines in my head, but now I’m doomed to make her feel disgusted by meeee-hee-hee-heeeee!’ You sob in your mind. ‘But they say you are what you eat and since I haven’t been eating pussy, that means I ain’t one. I said I’d do it, so I’ll do it, goddammit. Even if I will cry while doing it… but, uh, any chance I can change your mind?’

« I don’t care who or what you’re attracted to, but please, no. devils. Also, no. You’re not getting out of this that easily. »

‘Well, hey, I got good news for you: there’s no need to worry about that! I don’t really do that whole… attraction thing. I can appreciate beauty, sure, but I’m about as attracted to people as I am to a scenic view. You look at it and say ‘wow, how pretty!’ and that’s it. Besides, even if I was, it’s not like I was gonna get anywhere with her when that’s what I’ll have to drop on her. What I mean to say it, don’t worry, while I may low-key be a monster fucker, it only applies when they’re not real.’

« You are a fascinating person, you know that? »

‘Thank you, I know.’

« Ah, it  would seem we are out of time. A shame; I was hoping to ask you about this “monster fucker” identity, as I am to believe that your world is for the most part absent of monsters. »

‘Ah, yeah, a shame.’

The rest of the party walks in as soon as you finish that thought, spoils of gold coins, weapons, and some low-level spell scrolls filling their packs. After checking the door for noises on the other side, Tav leads the way through the door into the next room: a large, open chamber.

“A crypt,” Lae’zel observes. “What riches might it contain?”

‘Oh no, are we gonna have to fight a necromancer? Everyone knows necromancers love to hang out in crypts.’

The room has two sets of large double doors on the left and right walls, parallel to each other. Your party goes through the door on the right. There is very conspicuous sarcophagus in the center of the room, and a few against the walls as well.

“A trap,” Astarion points out once he nears it. “Someone doesn’t like visitors.”

“Can you disarm it?” Tav asks.

“Who do you take me for? Of course I can.”

As he works on that, the rest of the group rifles through the other sarcophagi, which are thankfully not trapped. This room, like the others, is quickly looted, the only things of note being a magical spear given to Shadowheart, an old key, and a strange black coin that’s oddly cold to the touch. There’s also another door, locked until it isn’t by Astarion’s deft hands, which leads back to the beach Tav and Shadowheart woke up on. With nothing more to find there, the group goes back to the previous room and approaches the other doors. 

After hearing no sound, Default GBA tests the key taken from the sarcophagus, which thankfully unlocks the door. It’s yet another open-concept room with an underground version of a sunken courtyard in the center with a large stature identical to the ones you’ve seen throughout the crypt, except this time with a head.

“Look at that!” The Farquaad Star Squad Reject, whose name is really getting too long to say every time, exclaims once he sees the statue. “Jergal, the Scribe of the Dead. This chapel must be ancient.”

‘Guess nobody worships him anymore, then?’

« Correct. He stepped down from his seat of godhood more than a millennium ago. »

‘Oh wow, then yeah, this place is old.’

“Armed scribes- but no sign of a struggle,” Tav mutters as you all pass by some clothed skeletons lying about while you walk through the room.

“The bones are intact,” Cowabunger comments. “Would not scavengers have disturbed them?”

‘Oh yeah, there was definitely a necromancer here before. I guess they’re not anymore?’

The wall on the right has collapsed, allowing some outside light to leak through, but it seems to lead to a cave that was likely carved out by the river running through it. You all head to the left, where the only door, besides the one you came through, stands. This one is luckily unlocked. There are more sarcophagi within the room, inside one you found another of those cold, black coins. Against the same wall as the door is a stone shelf upon which a book with a massive metal lock resides.

‘What kind of diary has secrets bad enough to warrant that kind of lock?’ You think, as you pick it up. It feels weird in a way that’s hard to describe. It’s like when you start getting close to something that has a lot of static electricity, that hair-raising feeling, but it does not shock you as you touch it, nor does your hair stand on end. ‘Whatever it is, it’s gotta be juicy.’ You fiddle with and tug on the lock and it doesn’t budge. ‘Seriously? A thousand years later and you’re still keeping your secrets? How dedicated are you to your job that you haven’t rusted into nothingness already?’

“Would you mind if I took a look at that?” You turn to see Gale next to you, looking at the book. “There’s some magic involved in that book, so I’d love to take a look. Can probably nudge the lock open with some magic of my own as well.”

[Knock yourself out,] you hand him the book.

One wizardly hand motion later and the lock clicks and the book practically bursts open, as if it was eager for its secrets to be devoured. You hover next to Gale and lightly trace your finger over the page, watching as the words morph themselves into letters you recognize. The words, however, even once settled, don’t make sense to you. 

“They’re names,” The Reject explains, seeing your confusion. “These pages are recording gods, entire pantheons even, that have dwindled, died or have even been reborn. I reckon this record was kept up-to-date right until this temple was abandoned. What a fascinating tome.”

‘Huh. Neat.’

And then you’re back to exploring the main chamber. Down the steps and into the courtyard you go, where you spot another skeleton and a plaque at the base of the giant statue. The words read the same as the first one you read in the very first room. The words carved into the stone scroll the statue is holding are the same as well. More stairs sit on either side of the statue, both seemingly lead to nothing. On the left side though, atop the stairs along a pillar on the wall, you spy a button.

‘Oh no. The irresistible urge is encompassing me. Oooh, that button is so tempting.’ You quickly climb the stairs and stand in front of the button, barely keeping your impulsive want to press it at bay. ‘But what if pressing it turns me into a crab that can’t give precise answers?’

“Tav!” You call out, gaining her attention. You point to the button. [Can I?] {Persuasion = 7, Failure}.

“Hold on, let me take a look,” She climbs up the stairs and stands next to you, looking at the button. “Well, I don’t see anything else,” she says, glancing around. “And it doesn’t seem to be trapped either.”

[OK.] You press the button.

The section of the wall to the left underneath the arched bevelling slides away, but as it does, you begin to hear ominous gasps of breath resound from the rest of the room. You and the rest of the party, all huddled on or around the staircase since they came to see what you had shouted for, look back. The skeletons become animate, rising from their collapsed positions, their bodies coated in the sickly green glow of necromantic magic.

“Hells, they’ve woken!” Gameboy Advance yells as she and everyone else readies their weapons.

“Let them come,” Shadowheart says, a fierce determination in her voice. “The darkness can be to our advantage.”

‘Girly, what do you mean?! I can’t see shit in the dark! And brightness probably wouldn’t matter to these guys either way since they just so happen to not have eyes! You know, since they’re literally nothing but bones!’

Tav rushes forward into the courtyard and a whip of water sprouts forth from her arm, like an honest to god water bender, grabbing onto the skeleton in between the opposing staircases of where you stood and pulling it until it is within melee range of her. Astarion is able to quickly flank it and hit it with a devastating sneak attack with his dagger, but it isn't enough for it to go down. Probably because stabbing isn’t the most effective on bones. Your eldritch blast hasn’t been kind to you today, so you switch towards the other cantrip you have: a Vile Fire Bolt. You ready your violin and begin playing {Attack Roll = 15, Hit}. {Fire Damage = 4, Vile Damage = 3}. The skeleton collapses into a pile of bones, some of them crumbling to dust. On the mezzanine surrounding the courtyard, another skeleton stands near the brazier, almost directly behind where the one you just took down originally stood. Gale shouts tormentum and three red bolts fly from his hand, all leaving behind Akira-esque light trails before hitting the skeleton. As a squishy wizard, he understandably shuffles over and ducks behind the short tree standing next to the statue.

A skeleton standing near the door where the book of dead gods was found rips a scroll and a cloud of dense fog forms on the stairs where you were standing, obscuring your vision in the haze, along with some of the others presumably, but you weren’t really paying attention to where they stood before, and now you couldn’t see even a foot in front of you. You think there’s at least two of your companions nearby as you hear multiple sets of footsteps run forwards. You hear a chant followed by a blast when suddenly the fog dissipates. You look to the right and see Calcifaust himself up on the mezzanine, facing the downed skeletal mage. He must have shot his own magic and defeated it, dispelling the magic. Lae’zel and Shadowheart ran forwards and up the other flight of stairs, approaching the skeleton Gale had hit.

Almost predictably, two of the remaining skeletons pulled out ancient looking scrolls from the robes, tearing them, plunging your companions into a thick fog once more. You can only see Tav who gets hit by an icy ray from a different necromancer pawn, everyone else obscured from view. Tav ran towards where the ice spell came from but stops as she notices a different skeleton passing by the stairs to the right, instead deciding to stop in her tracks to hurl a streak of fire from her staff at it, causing it to collapse in a burst of flames. A section of fog dissipates immediately afterwards, revealing Lae’zel and Shadowheart. With that one out of the way, you can only see the one who hurt Gameboy Girl. Trying to get a better angle, you descend into the courtyard, taking the stairs two at a time, your bowing turning into a natural staccato at the movement. Skirting round the edge of the fog, you aim at the frost-wielding skeleton and shoot another bolt of vile flames. {Attack Roll = 23, Hit}. {Fire damage = 3, Vile damage = 2}. You hear a battle cry from within the cloud followed by a dull clang, the last of the fog fading to nothing. Now able to see, Astarion and Gale turn their attention towards the frost skeleton you hit, Preminger firing an arrow while The FSSR sends his own blue beam at it. Both hit their mark and the skeleton goes down. Shadowheart charges forward with her new spear and thrusts into the skeleton Lae’zel clashed with, taking it down.

The threat neutralized, your party gathers back up in the courtyard and heads towards the wall that opened up after everyone is checked over for injuries. There’s a chest just begging to be opened in the room that is otherwise decorated with some pots and vases, benches, and a single fancy sarcophagus surrounded by unlit candles.

“A lot of effort to hide one sarcophagus,” Tav comments.

As Tav loots the chest, you approach the sarcophagus and notice a plaque on the ground at its base. You kneel to trace your finger over it, the letters shifting into a readable scrawl: 

“Here lies the Guardian of Tombs. Through knowledge comes atonement.”

‘...Is this the necromancer?’

Tav, finished with taking the valuables from the chest, walks past you and right up to the sarcophagus. She barely touches it before it begins to move on its own, sliding towards the back wall away from you. It moves slowly until an emaciated hand shoots up and grabs the edge, causing you to flinch back in surprise. With a swift flick of its arm, the heavy lid made of stone is practically flung off with a force you were not expecting.

‘Holy shit, I did not sign up for mummy brutes. That arm has no muscles on it; where did it get that strength?!’ You quickly back up some more.

A mummy, dressed in tattered robes, loose bandages, and gold refinery limply raises into the air. Its bones creak as its head raises and its eyes open. Arms outstretched, he floats towards your group. Everyone else backs up, but nowhere near as far as you, as it lands in front of what was supposed to be its final resting place and walks forward with steady strides as soon as its feet touch the ground.

“So he has spoken, and so thou standest before me. Right as always,” the mummy speaks before pausing in front of Tav. Its voice is rough and masculine with an odd whispering echo surrounding every word. “What a curious way to awaken. Now I have a question for thee: what is the worth of a single mortal’s life?”

“‘So he has spoken?’ What ‘he’ are you talking about?” Tav asks.

“An arbiter of certain matters. But that is not important now. Wilt thou answer my question?”

“Yes. Ask away.”

“So I ask again: what is the worth of a single mortal life?”

“Mortal lives are not ‘single’. They are part of a great whole- a path to enlightenment.”

“Few strive for such balance. Fewer still achieve it. Very well. I am satisfied.” He looks over at you, locking eyes.

You purse your lips and break eye contact. ‘Why is he looking at me?’

“I was not expecting to meet one of you in this age. Curious indeed. We have met and I know thy faces. We will see each other again at the proper time and place. Farewell.”

Your eyes widen and you look back at him. You open your mouth to ask just what he was talking about before he speaks again, cutting you off before you even had a chance to speak.

“We have nothing more to discuss. Continue on thy way, as if I were not here. I must attend this place, after so many years away. We will see each other again soon.”

“You seem very certain of that. How?” Tav asks, glancing between the two of you.

“The mechanics of fate would be difficult to explain to one such as thyself. Regardless, it will occur.” And just like that, he walks off, ignoring any other protests or words spoken by the others.

Tav looks at you. “Do you know what he meant by ‘one of you’?” 

You shrug. He could’ve meant where you’re from, your patron, or any number of things.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter too much–that skeleton was being too cryptic for my tastes: no straight answers at all. Well, since we’ve cleared out this place, let’s take a short rest. It’s been a long few hours, so everyone take some time to treat your bruises and organize your gains. Get ready to move in half an hour.”

The group breaks, most preferring to leave the musty room you were in, all except you, that is. Though it didn’t smell the best, it was pretty comfortable in all other ways. You take a seat on one of the benches. It’s covered in dust. Nevermind, this place wasn’t really comfortable at all. You stand up and leisurely make your way out of the room just like the others, opting to idly pace around.

‘Astaroth, do you know anything about whatever that was?’

« They were hopefully just talking about me. I think that mummy, as you referred to it as, is an avatar or manifestation of Jergal. He might have been able to sense I am your patron, and seeing as I perished many millennia ago, most would not expect my presence anywhere. Otherwise, it was a comment about your otherworldly heritage. »

‘Isn’t that, y’know, kind of bad that he knows about either you or me?’

« As he has remained silent about whatever he knows, I don’t believe we have anything to worry about. »

‘That’s a relief.’

« Yes. Yes, it is indeed. »

True to her word, half an hour later, Tav rounds everyone up and leads you through the entryway into the cave made by the collapsed wall. There must have been a door there at some point, seeing as around a column of stone was a lever that lowered a ladder. You all climb up the ladder and through a trapdoor, leading to the outside cliff of the crypt.

Once everyone is out, Tav starts forward again. “Well, we’ve cleared out the crypt of any threats, but no Karlach was to be found. For now, let’s head back to the grove and go west. We can decide if we go further west or north as we get closer to the points on the map.”

‘Aw, what? We have to do even more? I’m already exhausted– I’m not used to all this rigorous hiking mixed with life-or-death combat.’

Nobody else was complaining though, so you stayed silent. The walk through the greenery is silent for at most two minutes before someone speaks, probably having felt the need to fill the silence. 

“So,” Preminger, as true to his character, starts looking at Cowabunger, “You know about these parasites. Will we survive them?”

“Only if my people extract them,” she replies. “The only other cure is the blade.”

“Okay. Wonderful.”

‘...I almost forgot I had one of those things in my head and now I can’t stop thinking about it and I swear I can feel it squirm, blegh. I’m gonna be sick if I think about it any longer. Quick, think of something stupid-we’re great at that. Um… we know it takes a lot of slaps to cook a chicken, however, with my shiny new vile burning hands spell, would it only take one slap? Or would it take more?’

You all reach the entrance to the grove in fifteen minutes' time, your mind trying to run calculations of how long it would take to cook that hypothetical chicken but failing. Without a chemistry mathematical formulas cheat sheet or a defined average temperature your spell would run at, there was no way you’d be able to figure it out. D-GBA gives a nod to the lookouts as you pass by, waving her hand dismissively to let them know you weren’t looking to enter. They nod back in acknowledgement while your party continues west. Not a minute later does Calcifaust stop you in your tracks and points out footprints heading seemingly into the cliff.

“Tracks like these puncture the soil across the Sword Coast: Goblins, of course.”

‘Into the cliff? What, do we have ghost goblins now?’ You step forward and examine the vine-covered cliff face. {Investigation = 21, Success}. It’s another of those sliding stone doorways you saw in the grove. You easily locate the activation mechanism in the form of a hidden button along the frame and press it, lowering the door. [Voila.]

You peer into the doorway to see an earthy tunnel, a mix of natural and manmade. There’s some other natural light pouring in from the ceiling deeper in, but you can’t make out too much besides that and two other ominous sources of light: a pinprick of glowing red and a faint glow of blue light. [So. Are we going in?]

“There are at least four sets of goblin prints,” Wyll states, examining the cave as he walks up next to you. “Seeing how close it is to the grove, there’s a good chance these goblins know where it is. I don’t see any prints exiting at least. That means we can still intercept them and make sure the grove’s location isn’t leaked to their camp.”

“As long as that means we get to go kill something, a little chase wouldn’t hurt too much,” Astarion smirks.

“Chk,” Lae’zel scowls. “Goblins are hardly worth fighting.”

“Let’s go,” Tav decides. “If we wipe them out now, we can avoid a possible pincer attack later if they end up taking the same path as us after they leave.”

You and Tav front the group, slowly sneaking in as the others follow suit. The tunnel slightly curves to the right, and a few meters into it, you can already see the cavern it widens out into. Your eyes adjust to the dim light fairly quickly, thankfully. Once they do, you can see a large, ivory statue of a bird of prey, an eagle or hawk, or something of the like. They eyes of which you notice are the source of the red light you could just barely make out from the entrance. You’re also able to notice something else: voices.

“Glowing eyes are rarely a good sign,” Tav whispers, pointing towards the statue and drawing everyone’s attention to it. “It’s probably a trap; best be careful- Astarion, you up for another round of disarming? You seem to be good at it.”

“Well, glowing-eyed statues aren’t exactly my forte, especially when we have company,” he flicks his head in the direction the voices are coming from.

You sneak a few steps forward to get a wider view of the area, ‘there’s usually some clues of how to solve these puzzles in places like this.’ A few meters in front of the statue lies a natural stone column with an unnatural white stone panel, matching the bird statue in make and tone, with a glowing blue symbol, the source of the blue glow you saw. You nudge Tav and point to the panel. 

[That looks like a button, doesn’t it? If we push it, it could disarm whatever trap that statue is.] {Persuasion = 8, Success}

“It’s worth a shot,” she says. “We can’t throw something at it or shoot it if we don’t want to draw the attention of those voices’ owners, goblins, presumably. We need somebody who is quick and quiet to press it and abscond.”

Everyone looks at Astarion.

“I suppose I am quite talented in those aspects. Very well, if you insist, but if you’re wrong about this,” he briefly narrows his eyes at you.

In a split second, he’s gone, already three meters ahead in a silent dash. He runs with noiseless steps, body low to the ground. In three seconds he had crossed over to the pillar and placed his hand on the panel, pushing it in. As he does, both the blue light of the panel and the red light of the statue's eyes are snuffed out. As quickly as he crossed that distance the first time he did again on his way back: a round trip in six seconds flat.

“Hmph, easy.” He gloats. “Also, I took a small glance around. There is a goblin right around the corner, but I didn’t see where the other ones were. Also, as thanks, I’ll be taking whatever gold those goblins have on them.”

Miss D-GBA sighs. “Fine. It looks like we’ll be in for a fight either way, so no time like the present. Let’s go,” Tav leads you around the bend until the goblin comes into view. Tav flicks her hand forward. [Go.]

Astarion makes the first move, darting up to the goblin and stabbing it from behind. It lets out a guttural shriek that dies out quickly as it dies. The other goblins, who you can now see on the floor level with the bottom of the cliff, notice the sudden attackers and reach for their weapons. They don’t have time to do much when Tav, who was right behind Astarion, uses some sort of air cannon spell, a strong gust shooting from her hands, forcing two of the three goblins back a few meters and knocking them off balance. She scales down the cliff using the stone shelves, some of which look like they were carved out. Astarion is quick to follow behind her.

Your violin is resummoned and readied. You approach the edge of the cliff and find your target: a goblin archer further right than the other two. You start your new song with a Vile Fire Bolt. {Attack Roll = 11, Miss}. The goblin ducks, the attack whizzing over its head. 

“Glacies,” Gale, having come up to the cliff edge, stands left of you and shoots out an icy beam hitting the goblin furthest away. Glancing that way, you also notice a man lying on the floor, unconscious, surrounded by the goblins.

With so few enemies and seemingly everyone else having good luck, the fight is soon over after a handful of latin phrases from the spell casters plus Cowabunger and Preminger quickly finishing off the stumbling goblins who were hit by Tav’s airbending.

With your only living company now being an unconscious man, everyone sheathes their weapons, your violin absorbed back into its pocket dimension. The party goes to rejoin Tav, who is checking on said man on the lower level. You however, see a couple of crates to your right next to a standing torch that look like the perfect place to take a break. Your stamina is not like the others’, and that short rest in the crypt was nowhere near long enough to soothe your aching legs. There was no way were going to climb down the giant stone steps only to have to climb back up here. Not when those crates keep drawing your eye; they’re at the perfect height too. You can’t resist the temptation and take a seat. {Contested Roll: Perception = 18 vs. Habit = 17, Success}. Your hand reaches for your pocket out of habit, but you notice before you pull your phone out and move your hand away. ‘I gotta break that habit.’ 

You close your eyes and stretch in an attempt to soothe your sore body somewhat. You crack your spine with a satisfying pop and relax your muscles. You open your eyes and see Astarion, walking right in front of you. You almost jumped; you didn’t hear him at all. He passes by you, walking into the dark alcove to your left.

Curious, you follow him up the roughly hewn stone steps, clearly man-made compared to the rest of the cavern. It was unexpectedly dark, and you could barely make out Astarion kneeling down in front of some large mass, the details of which you couldn’t make out. You take a step forward to get a better look at what he’s doing.

He whips around and you briefly see a glint of metal in his hand, his entire body tense, as if preparing to lunge at a moment’s notice. “Oh, it’s just you,” he says, his hand moving back, pushing what you now realize is a dagger back into its sheath. 

[Whatcha doin?] You ask, trying to ignore how close you came to getting stabbed by him. You don’t like how this seems to be becoming a daily occurrence. {Performance = 20, Success}.

“Taking my reward, obviously,” he gestures towards the dark mass behind him.

‘Reward? But the goblins were down there?’ You lean forward and squint, and you can just make out the true form of that mass: a chest. ‘Ooooh, fun.’ [So, what are we looking at here?] {Performance = Natural 20, Critical Success}.

“A very considerate setup of traps and locks I’ll have to get through,” he replies, pulling out the respective toolkits to undo each. 

[Won’t it be hard with how dark it is? Here let me–] You almost reach for your pocket again- ‘not grab my phone,’ [let me get you some light.] {Performance = 12, failure}. Astarion doesn’t acknowledge you as you turn back and leave the alcove. You take out your torch and head over to the standing torch that was near the boxes you sat on earlier. You light yours with the flame and head back over to Astarion, who had already begun fiddling with the trapped chest without you.

He doesn’t glance over at you, despite the sudden increase in light, too focused on the chest. You watch him work, his fingers turning his tools slowly and precisely, his hands steady, never shaking. 

‘...He’s got some pretty hands. I wonder what nail polish would look best on him. Probably red.’

One minute and two clicks later, the chest is disarmed and unlocked. He pops open the lid and you step forward to take a look, your torch illuminating the insides. There’s a twisted staff and a small pile of gold coins.

“Better than nothing,” he says as he pockets the gold. He grabs and takes a look at the staff and frowns.

[Tav could probably use it.] {Performance = 3, failure}.

“It was locked in a trapped chest, so it’s probably at least somewhat valuable. Maybe we could sell it off somewhere. It looks nature-y enough for druids to be interested in it; though it might belong to the druids here, so we’ll have to sell it elsewhere. Here, hold onto it,” he passes it to you. “It’s not like you have to carry around your instrument anywhere because of your magic, so you should be fine carrying this around instead.”

[I mean, I guess I could use it as a walking stick.] {Performance = 15, success}. You grab it and tap the base against the ground a couple times, just because it felt right. ‘I kinda feel like Gandalf. Fuck yeah.’

“Yes, well, have fun with that.”

As you both step back out into the main area of the cave, you see the others reach the top of the cliff, climbing up to the same level you are on.

“There you both are,” Tav comments upon seeing you. “There are two more doors leading into the grove, and we’ve confirmed there are no other goblins about. After drinking a healing potion, the man was just fine and returned to the grove. What do you have there?” She looks at your Gandalf staff.

[A big stick. Wanna take a look?] You hold it out to her.

She grabs it and tilts it back and forth as she examines it, her eyes briefly glowing. “Interesting. Looks like it’s been enchanted to entangle creatures it hits. I prefer the staff I’m using now, so we should probably sell this one when we get the chance. Unless you want it, Gale?” 

“I–” He cuts himself off, clearing his throat. “I can't really say I’m planning to get close enough to anything to hit it.”

Satisfied with his answer, Tav hands it back to you. “Find anything else?”

“No, only that,” Astarion answered before you could.

‘Oh, he’s pocketing the gold. I mean, that is classic rogue behavior.’ You go along with it and nod. {Deception (with advantage) = 16, success}.

Sidetracking adventure over, you all make your way back towards the entrance and continue westwards towards your original destination. You squint once you leave the cave, having to readjust to the bright outside sunlight. You quickly glance at the sky, noting the sun’s position. It’s definitely late-afternoon by now. You quickly come across a fork in the road: the main path continues west, but a smaller path breaks off to the north.

Tav’s attention snaps towards the northern path. “People up ahead. Something’s wrong.” 

You focus for a second and hear the voices Tav must have noticed. And on the northbound path you go. You soon see the source of the voices: Two humans hovering over an injured dwarf lying on the ground.

“You’re a True Soul,” the woman says to the dwarf. “You can’t die. Please stay with us.”

“I don’t think he’s conscious,” the man says. “Can you hear us, Ed?”

Tav boldly approached, the human woman’s attention shifting from the dwarf to Tav, and then towards your group as a whole. “You!” She holds out her hand in a warding motion. “Not a step closer.” She glares at your group when suddenly you see a glowing red mark over her right eye suddenly appear, only to disappear from view just as quickly.

‘...Um… okay?’

Tav glances down at the fatally injured dwarf, then looks back at the woman, her eyebrows raising in a worried manner. “His wounds look deep. I might be able to help.”

“He’s hurt badly. An owlbear got him deep. If there’s anything you can do…” The human man pleads, too desperate to be wary.

“I’m watching you,” the woman allows Tav to approach, but her eyes never relax from their glare.

Tav kneels down next to the dwarf and locks eyes with him. They’re silent for a few seconds before the dwarf speaks.

“She is a True Soul. Mind her. She will- she- she…” His words lose their strength as he runs out of breath and fully goes limp. He’s dead.

“Edowin,” The human man collapses to his knees. “Ed! Please!”

“He’s with the Absolute now,” the woman’s gaze turns sorrowful, no longer focused on Tav or your party. “You’re…” Her gaze remains soft as it goes back to Tav. “You’re a True Soul. Edowin, our brother- he was chosen. Like you. Do you have orders for us? We were reporting to Edowin.”

Tav raises from her kneeling position and looks her straight in the eye, “Why are you out here? The wilderness is dangerous.”

“We know that all too well, ma’am, but… the Absolute sent us here.”

“We’re looking for fugitives,” the man explains. “Survivors from that ship that crashed over yonder.”

‘Wait, do they mean us?’

“We don’t know what they look like, but anyone who survived that crash is bound to be injured. That’s enough to get us started. The Absolute wants them found at any cost.”

“True Soul?”

“What…? Are you… are you testing us?” The man asks, taken aback. Tav remains stoic, giving no indication of her intentions.

“A True Soul-” The woman begins- “like you- has been chosen by the Absolute. You speak with Her voice. Your words are Her command. She grants you the power to enforce Her will. And when the time comes, the True Souls- you- will rule.”

“Oh, I like these two,” Astarion whispers next to you. “All zeal and no brains.”

[These two reek of cult.] {Performance = 19, Success}.

“Yes, but is it really a problem when we’re on the receiving end of their devotion?”

[Well, I’ve got anxiety, so… yeah, it’s not for me. You do you, though.] {Performance = 7, Failure}.

He frowns at you and crosses his arms. “It’s not like you’re a paladin who swore an oath to get rid of all cults or something, so don’t ruin it for me. I’m intent on milking this for all its worth.”

‘Not what I meant, but sure, go off, I guess.’

“A crude summary,” Tav lightly berates the woman. “You have more to learn of our faith, novice.”

“I’m sorry, True Soul,” she immediately concedes. “I… only repeated what I thought I knew. It seems the Absolute still has a great deal to teach me.”

“Perhaps you can be of help to make up for it- I’m looking for the druid Halsin.”

“I apologize, but I don’t know any druids.”

“Very well. Now for your orders: Return for now. Forget the owlbear. You’re still alive- so go.”

“And just… leave Ed?” The man looks torn between following Tav’s orders and avenging the dwarf. “I suppose… I suppose he’d want us to go on- find a way to honor his sacrifice.”

“May the Absolute guide us,” the woman says in place of a farewell before the two of them travel down the northbound path.

As soon as they’re out of earshot, Tav speaks, “They spoke of the Absolute- same as that goblin, Sazza. Curious.”

“Seems as though the Absolute’s attracting followers from all kinds of places,” Lae’zel comments.

Tav approaches the corpse and flinches. Her head and arms jerk awkwardly, as if she was fighting against her body’s movement. When her left arm raises, the body does too. You take a step back in surprise.

‘Holy shit, she’s got telekinesis!’

Her hand snaps shut into a fist as the dead dwarf’s neck snaps in a clean break and a tadpole crawls out of his eye. You grimace in disgust. The tadpole floats over to Tav and lands in her hand. As soon as it makes contact, Tav’s body relaxes and the corpse drops to the ground. She stares at it as she evens out her labored breathing, then stashes the tadpole away.

“Umm…” [Why are you holding onto that instead of, oh, you know, killing it]? {Performance = 4, Failure}.

“Don’t worry, it’s in safe hands,” she reassures, mistaking your question for a statement of worry.

[No, that’s not what I-] a frustrated sigh escapes your mouth. [Nevermind].

“Well, thankfully those two weren’t being very careful and left clear tracks. If we’re lucky, we can follow them back to their base,” Tav turns towards the way the pair went and waves for everyone to follow. “Come on. We should cover as much ground as possible.”

The trail slopes downward and twists to the left, leading  towards a river. You notice a coffin sitting in the middle of the river, propped up against some rocks.

‘Why is there a coffin here?’

The river here is shallow and Tav leads you all across. You glance at the coffin as you pass it and are relieved to see it empty save for a wooden spoon, for some reason. ‘Must have been a real impressive spoon back in the day to have earned itself a human-sized coffin.’ A massive cave entrance looms on the other side of the river, an animal-made path leading to its maw.

“Owlbear tracks,” Tav informs the group. “Best not go inside- its nest is probably there.”

Instead, a natural ramp of dirt and stone shelves to the left leads upwards, out of the river bed. The footprints lead that way too. The first stone step is taller than half your body, and you grunt as you pull yourself up, your muscles complaining at the strain. The path evens out once the ground is level with the area on the other side of the river where you met the three cultists. The tracks head left, but a dog’s bark sounds out from the right, diverting your attention.

‘Is that a pupper I hear?’ Nobody can stop you from going to meet that dog. “Tav,” you get her attention. [Dog! That way! We gotta go!] {Persuasion = 20, Success}.

“A short detour wouldn’t hurt, I suppose,” she acquiesced to your request. “Lead the way, then.”

You take off in the direction of the barking. It’s not long before you smell iron-blood. A sadly familiar scent now. ‘Oh no, please be okay, mystery dog!' You follow the footpath around a decently sized tree and some small boulders to see two things: a white dog and a very bloody corpse. As you approach, the dog growls at you, standing in front of the corpse protectively. You stop and kneel down before the dog.

“Hey there, pupper. It’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

The dog doesn’t relax at your words. It only barks and growls some more. Tav, now beside you, leans to the side and squints.

“It’s alright, Scratch. we’re not going to hurt you,” she says. At the mention of its name, the dog, Scratch, relaxes and begins wagging his tail and whines. He looks over to the corpse and barks a couple times.

You can’t resist the urge and reach out to pet him. He lets you for a bit, but ducks out of it to whimper next to the corpse. He doesn’t want to leave the dead man’s side. You reach out your hand in an offer for if he wants more pets. He sniffs at you, but doesn’t do more. 

“When you’re ready, you can follow our scent back to camp,” Tav tells Scratch. Whether the dog understood or not, only time will tell.

“Is that smoke?” As you were about to go back to the trail, Shadowheart turned your attention to the north.

Small pillars of smoke could be seen in the near sky, as if a bunch of small campfires had been lit close together. Or, more likely, there was a building on fire.

“Where there’s smoke, there’s fire, and where there’s fire, there’s Karlach,” Wyll spits out the devil’s name. “We have to go stop her before she wreaks havoc!”

He doesn’t let anyone get a word in before he’s dashing to the north. 

‘Impulsive idiot! Give my legs a break! Have you never heard of a forest fire?’

Everyone is quick to catch up to him, except you. You’re stuck in the rear, body tired and muscles complaining. You’re quick to come across a river blocking your path, but that isn’t nearly enough to dissuade Beacon of Justice, Calcifaust! With no hesitation, he jumps from stone to submerged stone to make it across. Though nowhere near as gung-ho as he was, everyone else starts to jump across, leaving only you on the other side. You lifted your walking stick so that it wouldn’t touch the water and made your way to the edge of the boulder, wading into the submerged section, leaving you in ankle deep water. The gap looked to be about a meter. ‘I’m sure I can at least jump that far, right?’ You take a few steps back to get a running start. You charge and leap. {Athletics = 9, Failure}. Your foot lands on the opposing submerged boulder on the other side. You’ve made it! That is, until your foot slips and you fall backwards, into the water. A hand is quick to enclose around your forearm and yanks you back up, but not before your entire backside hits the river, leaving you business in the front, pity party in the back.

“Do not slow us down, istik,” Cowabunger reprimands you as she lets go of your arm, having been the one to catch you.

[Sorry.] {Performance = 13, Success}.

“There’s a blood trail along the river bank,” Selfish Calcifaust, already meters ahead of you, points out.

You climb up even more rocks to get on the same level as him, though he’s already started moving, leading the party to where the trail of blood goes, his eagerness blinding him to caution. The river bank trail is soon headed off by a cliff and instead continues across the river via a fallen log for a bridge. That’s when you see her. The stunning woman whose visage your tadpole downloaded from Wyll’s brain straight into yours.

‘She’s here in person. She won’t disappear like smoke in the wind this time. I can stare all I want!’ She’s beautiful and looks strong enough to break you in half with her thighs alone. You’re enthralled and could stare all day if she didn’t mind. 

It all comes crashing down as you remember your deal with your patron. ‘Nooooooo, I completely forgot! Aww, man. Well, a deal’s a deal.” You balance your stick against your shoulder and get ready to summon your instrument to cast Illusory Script.

« You’re lucky. » Astaroth’s voice halts your movements. « She’s just a tiefling, not a devil. You don’t have to use your pick up line on her. »

‘Oh thank fuck!’ You practically sag in relief, grabbing back onto your staff with both hands.

You watch as Wyll and Tav cross the log and approach the tiefling woman, who does seem to be the source of the smoke. Afterall, she’s completely engulfed in flames, now crouching down and hunched over, head clutched in her hands, back facing you. She looks like she’s in extreme pain.

“One horn. The stink of Avernus. Advocatus diaboli,” Wyll says as he stands over her curled form.

“Well I’ll be godsdamned,” she looks over her shoulder at him. “The Blade of Frontiers. Thought I’d shaken you for good. That’ll teach me to underestimate you.” The flames coming from her sputter out, leaving only small bits leaking out of her skin and licking her fingertips as she stands up to look Wyll in the eye.

‘...Tieflings don’t normally secrete fire from their pores, right?’

« No, they normally do not. »

‘Well, I guess that just makes her even more hot, don’t you think?’

« …You know what. Just for that awful pun, I think you should still use that spell for her. Don’t worry, you don’t need to say that vile line, but with how much you’ve been, how do you say it? Simping? For her? I get that you’re not interested in her that way, but how about you just flirt with her anyways? You know, for science? »

‘What? I can’t do that! I’ve never flirted with anyone before! She’ll get the wrong idea because flirting with someone typically means you’re interested in them! Do you know how awfully awkward that’ll make things?! Because I do! I’ll never be able to speak to her again!’

« …Pft…Heh… Haha… hahhaha! » Astaroth tries to stifle his laughter, but he fails in the end.

‘Hey! Shut up! My anxiety isn’t my fault!’

« Sorry-ha - sorry, you’re just very fun to tease and I haven’t had a chance to banter like this in a long time. »

‘You’re lucky I like you,’ you’re quiet for a moment, then sigh. ‘But, I suppose there is something I can say to her. Not gonna use a spell though. It’ll be embarrassing if she understands me.’

« Oh? You’ll truly indulge me in some fun shenanigans? Like one of those sitcom things your world has? »

‘Yes, just like one of those sitcom things. But this is the only time, okay? It’s not happening again.’

« Eh, we’ll see about that. »

‘What was that?’

« Oh, nothing. ੧(o˘◡˘o) »

‘...If I had eyes in my mind, I would be giving you a light glare right now.’

“You’re the devil we’ve been hunting: Karlach, right?” Tav joins the tense conversation between hunter and not-actually-a-devil quarry.

“Bloody right,” Karlach confirms. “An honor to be chased by the Blade of Frontiers, but- agh!” She’s cut off by the pain of the tadpole acting up, her memories being shared with you.

It’s an intense, fiery heat, mirrored in the images of the hells flowing into you. You see armies of demons, a landscape of fire and blood, her red hands holding a great axe, tearing through body after body of the foes coming towards her.

« The Blood War. » Astaroth explains, his voice leaving a residual emptiness, the tone of someone who has been emotionally and mentally exhausted to the point of numbness. « A war between demons and devils that has been ongoing for eons. »

Karlach shakes her head as she’s freed from the tadpole’s sudden activeness, “What was that?”

“Evidence. Proof that you’re a devil, a gladiator in the archdevil Zariel’s army,” Calcifaust pulls out his rapier and points it at her, already getting into a battle-ready stance.

“I can explain, but it’s a whole situation. If you would just hear me out-” Karlach is cut off by her tadpole connecting with everyone else’s again.

You see her slicing through devils this time, not demons. She’s frantic, looking for a way out. She’s just a victim.

“She’s trying to trick us,” Wyll says. “Don’t believe her lies.”

“You saw the truth. I never wanted to serve Zariel. I was enlisted in her army against my will. Forced to fight, and fight I did.” Karlach’s eyes turn sad and pleading. “When I saw an opportunity to get away, I took it. I’m finally home- or near it, anyway.”

“You served her,” Wyll remains adamant on his position. “That’s enough to damn you.”

‘Woah, hey, let’s slow down a bit. This is sounding a whole lot like victim blaming and we’re not into that.’

“Stand down, Wyll,” Default GBA places a hand on his arm, enticing him to lower his sword. “You saw what I saw.”

He turns to Tav, not relaxing just yet. “You don’t know what you're saying! You’re asking me to trust a devil!”

“Gods, you’re stubborn. Karlach’s not a devil, and you know it.”

“Listen to some sense, now,” Karlach adds. “I don’t want this to end badly for either of us. You know monsters, right? Better than anyone. Look into my eyes. Can’t you see I’m not what you think?”

His face scrunches, having been met with the truth but not wanting to believe it. “Shit,” He curses as he puts his blade away. “You really are no devil, are you? I’ve… I’ve been deceived.”

Karlach sighs out a breath of relief, “Thank the gods. Thought I was going to have to take your head.”

“You would have died in the attempt. But- there have been enough threats today.”

“Truce then, hey?”

“Aye. Truce.”

Karlach addresses the rest of your party, now that the tension has diffused. “I’m Karlach- but you already knew that. And you are…?”

Everyone states their names one at a time. You do as well, but add a little more. You were gonna put on a show for your patron by voicing aloud those Johnny Bravo lines.

“Mama warned me about women like you… I was hoping she was right”

Karlach looks at you confused, “Sorry soldier, but I won’t be able to remember all that.”

Tav introduces you in your stead, telling Karlach your name. “They can’t speak Common though, so I hope you're good at charades.”

“You can’t speak Common? Not everyday you meet someone like that. Either way, well met. Nice to meet some friendlies around here. It’s been tough going so far. I may not be a devil, but I can put the Blade’s reputation to work. How would you feel about helping me kill some evil bastards? A little background, if your moral compass needs something to point at: You already know I fought in the Blood War. I was good. Really good. Turns out I’ve got a knack for killing demons. That made me a valuable asset. Zariel- the archdevil herself- made me as her personal attack dog. I played along until I could get the fuck out of there, but devils don’t like to lose their assets. Zariel liked it so little, she sent a bunch of goons, so-called ‘Paladins of Tyr,’ to take me back. Problem is, I’m not going.”

“Let’s send them back where they came from,” Tav accepts Karlach’s proposal.

“Fuck yes. They cornered me outside the tollhouse just up the hill. Doubt they’ve gone far after the scorching I gave ‘em. Then we can work on evicting this parasite and take Faerûn by the short hairs. Sound good?”

“She’s almost as scary as you, Lae’zel,” Astarion comments with a smirk. “So naturally she gets my vote.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Tav agrees.

“I’d hug you if it wouldn’t scorch your skin off,” Karlach grins brightly. “Phew, I’m getting all het up. Let’s make tracks!”

We’re doing contested rolls to see if our protag is aware of their habitual action of taking out their phone when they're bored. It’s a perception roll vs. a straight roll. Whenever I, as the author, stop writing and habitually reach for my phone for no good reason, I’m going to roll some dice. Be prepared, our protagonist could be found out at any time.

Next Chapter >

[389]

[fuckyessourcefed]

FRANKLIN – The Benjamin Franklin Time Traveler Musical (feat. @joncozart & @meghantonjes)

[vampiric-horrors]

In need of VAs / Animators!

DM nuuoonoo on Discord to apply

[hard-boiled-criminal]

Social Anxiety Really Ruins the Isekai Experience

Previously known as: Brimstone from the Throat

Chapter 4 - I May Be Stupid

< Ch 3 | Ch 5 >

>Ch 1<

Masterlist

Ao3 Mirror

From now on, the successfulness of many of your actions will be based on real dice rolling, brought to you by my dice collection, indicated by this: {Dice Result}

Instead of charisma, because I want the protag to fumble their way through social interactions, Astaroth’s warlock is dex based because you gotta be at least a little dexterous to play an instrument.

Current Nicknames:

Tav: Fashion Disaster (FD)

Shadowheart: N/A

Lae’zel: Cowabunger

Astarion: Preminger

Gale: Magic Roomba ([adj.] roomba)

Your sleep isn’t very restful, to say the least. You’re not used to sleeping on such hard, uneven ground with rocks poking into you through the bedroll. You wake up with your body sore and aching, understandably so considering your latest experiences. You blink groggily, staring up at your tent’s ceiling.

‘Yep. Still here. On an alien planet I didn’t even think was real.’ You groan when you sit up, your back complaining at the movement. ‘Oof, fuck, and definitely not a dream.’

« Good morning. »

“Ah–!” You yelp, but quickly cut yourself off.

“(Y/n)?” You hear Tav outside your tent. “Are you alright?”

“Yep! I’m fineee–you can’t understand me… right… um…” you answer her, your ‘fine’ slurring into ‘you’ as you remember the language barrier. You stick your hand outside your tent flap and give her a thumbs up. [S’all good!] {Persuasion = 13, Success}.

“Well, when you’re ready, would you help out with breakfast?”

[Okay]. You pull your hand back inside and sigh, ‘I’m still gonna have to get used to hearing your voice in my head.’

« Of course. Might I suggest preparing some charaded excuses for why you’re so jumpy in the meantime? »

‘...You just wanna laugh at my own expense, don’t you.’

« Guilty as charged. » You feel fondness through your shared mental bond. « On another note, I should let you know that I won’t be able to be as active a presence in your mind for a while. »

‘What? Why?’

« I siphoned most of my power towards contacting you, the rest now towards channeling into you to provide you with powers and abilities– which reminds me, since you’ve become a bit more acclimated to magic, I’ve deemed it safe enough to grant you with some new spells. » 

New information seeps into your brain– more powerful spells, though limited in their uses.

« Having a constant presence across planes drains a fair bit of what little energy I have left, and my reserves have now almost been depleted. I’ll still be watching over you and will answer should you need me, but I will not be reaching out to you first;I must preserve my strength for now. In the meantime, I shall be working on more translation spellcraft for you. »

‘..It’s because you went and summoned my phone, isn’t it?’ You pout.

« Eh, perhaps. » He huffs amusedly. « Don’t worry, I will be able to consistently speak with you like this again in due time. You’ll know when my powers have sufficiently recharged. »

‘Yeah, because you’ll pop into my head out of nowhere and scare the living shit out of me.’

He laughs– a genuine, full-bodied laugh. « Can you blame me when your reactions are so entertaining? I believe you could liken it to one of those “sitcoms” your world enjoys. »

Your pout depends, playfully this time instead of with sadness. ‘You sound like my friends when they convince me to play a horror game.’

« You will be alright, young one. Besides, you now have quite the company around you. Some ‘snacks,’ I believe you’d call them, if my updated lexicon is to be believed? »

You sputter and feel your face lightly flush. ‘Astaroth! You can’t just hit me with that out of nowhere! God, that’s so embarrassing, especially since you’re not saying it ironically’ you bury your face in your hands.

He chuckles in mirth. « I jest, I jest. Though, truly, it would not hurt to gain the trust of some capable companions. »

‘I know, I know, but talking –well, interacting, since I can’t actually talk to them –with people is scary,’ you “say” as you lift your face from your palms.

« I know, my dear. I know. I must go now, but I promise that should you truly have need of me, I will answer. »

‘Okay… see– or uh, talk–no, think?-- to you later, then?’

Even though you can’t see him, you can still sense his warm smile. « Yes, I’ll talk to you later. Oh! And don’t forget, this means I won’t be able to guide you in combat anymore. »

‘...Huh?’

« …Well, bye! »

‘Wait, no–’

His presence fades, the comforting warmth you’ve already gotten used to leaving along with him. The void left by him is instead filled with the feeling of the tadpole churning in your head, more prominent now than ever. Astaroth’s presence either overrode the tadpole’s, or he was actively preventing you from feeling it. It’s uncomfortable, like the barest beginnings of a headache that won’t go away, but you can deal with it. You’ve dealt with worse pains. You really wish you had some pain killers though.

Yawning, you stretch out your sore limbs before crawling out of your tent. The only ones who seem to be awake, or are outside of their tents at the very least, are Tav/FD, Lae’zel/Cowabunger, and Astarion/Preminger. 

“Good morning, (y/n)!” Tav smiles her customer service smile at you as soon as you leave your tent.

[Morning], you wave back with your own tired customer smile on your face. Your stomach growls loudly, clearly audible as FD giggles a bit.

“Ah, the food is in the pack next to my tent. If you want to get started on breakfast, feel free! I’ll join you after I wake and check up on the others.” She walks off in the direction of Shadowheart’s tent.

You walk over to Tav’s tent, going straight for the pack sitting outside. ‘Let’s see what we’ve got.’ Kneeling down in front of the beige pack, you first pull out a very fragrant purple pouch; you would get a headache if you tried to distinguish all the different smells. ‘Okay, herb and spice pouch. I’ll look inside that later.’ You rifle through what little variety of provisions you have. ‘Cheese, bread, meat, more cheese, apples, mint? I think? Smells like it. I’ll move that to the herb bag. Mushrooms, carrots, alcohol, more bread, more apples… wow, we are really lacking variety. I guess I’ll look through the herbs and spices. Hopefully I’ll find something that’ll go well with anything we have. I’m thinking rosemary could be good. Slap that on a sandwich with some cheese– ooh that does sound good.

You move your attention back towards the smaller pouch and rifle through it. You pull out a stalk of something with spiky leaves. ‘Oh hey, I know this! It’s mugwort! I think? Or a mugwort look-alike? One way to find out.’ Staying true to the stereotypical tired mind who just woke up, you don’t think before acting. You pluck a leaf off the stem and place it on your tongue…and immediately remove it, sticking out your tongue in disgust and shaking your head. ‘Blegh, ew, yuck. Yep. That’s mugwort. Bitter and gross. Not using that. Maybe I’ll put it in some tea if I feel like dreaming.’

You hear a muffled snicker come from behind you. Turning around, you see Preminger, hand over his mouth, looking very amused. Ignoring him, you turn back to the spice bag and pull out the next thing. You pause. It’s a leafy plant with drooping purple flowers. You recognize this one –how could you not? 

“...Who the fuck put belladonna in the spice bag?!” You whisper to yourself, incredulously. ‘I can’t use any of this stuff! It could all be contaminated! Shit, I gotta go wash out my mouth,’ you stand and speed walk over to the water’s edge, trying not to draw too much attention.

You kneel at the edge and scoop up some water in your hands. You bring it to your lips and fill your mouth, swishing it around before spitting it out. You repeat this a few times for good measure, rubbing at your tongue to make sure there’s no trace of anything left over.

When you walk back over, you see FD back at her tent, looking confused at the mugwort and belladonna you pulled out. You make your way over and poke Tav in the arm. She looks at you. You pick up the belladonna and gesture to it, [why in the nine hells you have here was there poison in the spice bag?]

“Belladonna? Were you the one who… Please don’t tell me you were planning on cooking with that,” Tav’s tone went from confused to scared and concerned.

[What? No!] You look at her weird. ‘Why would I want to do that?’ You gesture between the dangerous plant and the spice bag. [I’m asking why it was in the spice bag.]

“Yeah, it belongs in the alchemy pouch,” Tav states what she knows to be obvious. “Was it mixed in with the food?” She begins to look more frightened.

[No! No.] You shake your head. ‘Wait…Alchemy pouch?’ You look at her blankly, feeling like an idiot. “...Oh.”

You hear more laughter, louder this time. Astarion wasn’t even trying to hide it.

“I believe they thought there was food in the pouch,” Astarion inputs, slightly clearing up the confusion. “You should have seen their face when they put mugwort in their mouth.”

Tav looks at you in disbelief, “Why would you look for ingredients in the alchemy pouch?”

[I thought there were spices in there!] You rub your fingers together, as if sprinkling salt on something. {Performance = 4, Failure}.

“Gods, I really wish I could understand you; I really haven’t a clue what you’re trying to say.”

You sigh. ‘This is getting us nowhere. Let’s just say I’m stupid and call it a day.’ You tap at your skull then shake your head, [I wasn’t thinking because I’m an idiot.] {Performance = natural 1, critical failure}.

Tav suddenly becomes guarded. “Are you saying your mind and thoughts are fading? That the tadpole is already influencing you?”

At the mention of the tadpole, Lae’zel’s gaze halts her sword maintenance in favor of wielding it and turns to you with a glare.

You rapidly shake your head, [No! No, that’s not it either!] You flail around with your arms a bit, trying to figure out how to better explain. You give up. You groan and drag your hand down your face. You wave her off, [Just…forget it. Doesn’t matter anymore.]

Tav’s stance relaxes, “Well, I’m glad to hear you aren’t transforming already.” She turns to rifle through the provisions pack. “Hmm, we don’t have much, do we? Guess we’ll have to settle for meat and cheese sandwiches.”

You and tav work on slicing the baguettes, cheeses, and meats, assembling a sandwich for each party member. Luckily, breakfast was uneventful after your embarrassing performance. The only bad part was that the bread was tough and the sandwich was just bland in general.

‘We need to buy some spices and seasonings, especially salt, as soon as we get the chance.’

Shortly after everything gets cleaned up, courtesy of Gale’s prestidigitation, further solidifying his role as a magic roomba but for dishes, everyone begins to pack up their tents and belongings, getting ready to head out. You feel like your eyes bulge out of your head as you see things that definitely should not all fit in their packs go in one by one. Are they all bags of holding? How big are they on the inside? Could you fit a coat rack in them? Like Mary Poppins? That would be fun. Then you’d just need an umbrella enchanted with featherfall. Or fly? Would that even be possible? Probably? Maybe? Did umbrellas even exist here? As in ones for rain, not parasols for sunlight. Umbrellas don’t really scream ‘high fantasy’ so who knows if they have them here. They probably do, just not as good as Earth ones. You go to your own tent and start to take it down but not without glaring at the accursed sticks holding it up. You hadn’t forgotten the stunts they pulled when you were setting them up the night before.

“Everyone ready to head out?” Tav, the de facto leader, asks everyone. 

Nods and affirmations are shared among the group, all ready to leave the campsite. With no objections, she leads the group back the way you came from the day before, intent on continuing up the path near where Roomba and Cowabunger were found.

“It’s quite unfortunate the tadpole has robbed us of our abilities,” Gale began, breaking the silence after a few minutes since leaving camp. He turned to you, “If it hadn’t, I’d have been able to cast ‘comprehend languages’ or ‘tongues.’ Then we would be able to have a proper conversation together.”

[Yes, unfortunate indeed,] you nodded. ‘Except not really because having an excuse to not talk to people is amazing.’

“I take it you’re from overseas, then?” Shadowheart asked, gesturing to your entirety.

You nod. [Sure, let’s go with that].

“Seeing as there’s not much else to do, how about we continue our guessing game?” FD suggested. “I don’t know much about lands outside of Faerûn, so I am quite curious about yours.” 

You internally groan. ‘I thought we could finally forget about that, because I can’t-slash-won’t tell any of you the truth.’ You look at Tav, blankly. [How? We already know charades aren’t gonna get us anywhere.] ‘Nevermind the fact that this is a different planet and signs or gestures that are familiar to me can mean something entirely different to all of you.’

“Hmm…” Tav holds her chin in thought, “Since it’ll be hard to guess a specific name, we can try the cultural route, as in objects, gestures, customs and the like from your home. Based on those, one of us might be able to pinpoint where you’re from.”

[Be my guest.] ‘Good fucking luck guessing outer space, not like I was even gonna tell you that. Though, I don’t know anything about the overseas culture on Toril so oh fucking well. Guess I’ll do what I do best: bullshit my way through this. Maybe if I just confuse them they’ll drop it.’

You place your hands in front of you and mime typing on a keyboard. [Typing is an essential skill where I’m from.]

“Piano?”

‘Well, not what I was going for, but we do have that.’ [Yes, we have pianos.]

“Well, it seems our friend here is of some social importance afterall,” Astarion chimed in.

“Huh?” You tilt your head, a bit puzzled.

“Darling, everyone knows that only the rich can afford pianos, let alone learn to play them.”

‘Riiiight, this is like medieval times stuff. I forgot about that.’

“Oh!” Tav’s eyes light up like she just came to a realization. “Were you trying to say that you could play us something from your hometown?”

You go to refute but she doesn’t give you a chance.

“You have your viol, yes? I’m sure you can use that instead of a piano.”

You deadpan. [I don’t know if you’re aware, but there’s a reason marching orchestra isn’t a thing. Also I’m clumsy and this terrain is very uneven and my music could alert any beings nearby that there’s a group of idiots dumb enough to give away their location wandering about. Also, if I was going to play a piano piece on my violin we’d be left without the entire bass section of the song, so it’ll sound sad and disappointing]. You had given up on accurately gesturing anything halfway through, settling for frustrated and exasperated hand movements. ‘Also no thanks, I hate giving solo performances in front of other people. I’m either in an orchestra or playing to myself alone in my room.’

It seems nobody understood, as you were expecting. But you pretty clearly got the point across that you weren’t going to play for them.

Tav sighs, disappointed. “Fine, I’ll leave it be for now. Next time we make camp though, I’d really like to hear you play.”

You relax a bit at that. ‘Thank fuck. How the hell am I supposed to give a personal solo performance to a group of strangers I’m gonna be stuck with for who knows how long? I’ll tell you how: by not giving them one. Let’s see how long I can put it off until they completely forget about it.’

Not interested in having to converse anymore, you instead turn to admiring your surroundings. Despite the less than ideal situation you’re in, it's actually quite beautiful here. The embers from the crash have died down over the past day, the air now clear of smoke and smog. It’s refreshing. You’re not sure if you’ve ever smelled such clean air before. The flora around you is vibrant, sharing many characteristics with the greenery you’re familiar with on Earth. And then there’s the foreign species. Different colors and patterns, shapes and structures; there are similarities, but definitely different from what you know. 

‘It’s probably best to be cautious around these plants,’ you surmise. ‘Who knows which ones are dangerous, especially towards an alien human… Oh shit, am I gonna have to worry about illnesses and diseases? …Fuck it, whatever. They got magic and I have Astaroth so I’m sure it’ll be fine.’

Your group approaches some familiar scenery: it's the same area where you found Lae’zel suspended in a cage. Walking past it, you notice some stonework through the natural rock archway. The remains of some type of abandoned stone building lies past, and you can see more crumbling walls behind it, hinting at an even larger structure awaiting to be explored. 

You poke at Tav’s arm to get her attention, [Look, there’s some ruins over there].

“Hmm, interesting… I would like to check it out, but I doubt there’s a cure for the tadpoles in there. Probably best to avoid it for now, just in case.”

[Fair point].

Ignoring the ruins that your curiosity is just begging to explore, you all continue uphill, entering unexplored territory. Cresting above the top of the hill, the land flattens out, your muscles thankful for the reprieve from the uphill climbing. 

FD halts in her tracks, all of you following suit. “I hear shouting up ahead.”

Not one to waste time, she quickly moves ahead, skirting around a large rock formation, not dissimilar to the small rocky outcrop you woke up on. She soon stops in her tracks, and as you round the edge of the formation, you see why: There are three humans standing in front of a vine-covered wooden wall built into the cliff face further ahead, shouting at a tiefling standing atop the cliff.

“Open the bloody gate!” One of the human men shouts.

“Nobody gets in. Zevlor’s orders,” the tiefling replies.

“That pack of goblins will be on us any second!”

Another tiefling, older than the other, judging by his looks, comes up next to the tiefling who shouted before, “What’s going on?”

The same human man continues to shout, getting angrier each time, “Goblins are on our tail. Open the gate, Zevlor. Now.”

“You led goblins here? Where is the Druid?”

“Please! There’s no time!”

You hear some commotion from your left and see a horde of short creatures, all with olive-green skin tones, like green green skin, accompanied by semi-hairless beasts. They looked almost like wolves but their faces were too… wrong. There was no distinction between the skull and the snout: It was all just one piece, rectangular in shape, almost like a bull terrier’s facial structure.

“By the Nine Hells,” the older Tiefling, Zevlor, if you heard correctly, exclaims as he sees the horde approach. “Open the gate!”

You watch the other tiefling that had first responded to the humans turn towards a contraption which had what seemed to be a ship’s wheel attached. He grabbed said wheel and began turning it, the gate, which you had just assumed to be a wall at first, started to lift from the ground. It doesn’t last long as an arrow from the creatures, goblins, flies through the air, striking the tiefling in the chest. As he falls to the ground, the gate begins to close as well.

“Kanon! No!” Zevlor cries out.

As the gate starts to fall shut, the three humans rush to grab it and keep it from closing, but it’s weight is too much, and they have no choice but to release it and watch it fall, leaving no space between it and the ground.

“Shit,” the angry human curses. “Form a line!”

The goblins rush forward to begin melee combat with the three humans. It doesn’t take long for Tav to rush forward, intent to enter the fray, the other tieflings upon the cliff also begin to ready their crossbows. A human man, not part of the three by the gate, jumps down from the cliff, landing in front of a goblin.

“Damnable roach. Provoke the blade–” he stabs the goblin through the chest with a rapier, killing it instantly, then practically flicks the now corpse off his blade “–and suffer its sting.”

You feel an inexplicable distaste for the man who seems to be on your side, all things considered. You furrow your brows slightly in confusion.

« Be wary; he is a fiend’s puppet. »

‘A fiend’s– wait, I thought you said you weren’t going to be around?’

No response.

‘Oh, so that’s how it is? If you can hear me, you better explain after this!’

Now in the throes of battle, the melee attackers in your party rush forward, following Tav’s lead. Lae’zel, the most enthusiastic, proves her prowess as a true Cowabunger by immediately swinging her greatsword down on the nearest goblin as Tav runs forward to another one, delivering a series of staff strikes and unarmed blows to it. You lose sight of Astarion, but Shadowheart also moves forward, shield and healing spells at the ready. Gale stays back with you, preparing to fire spells himself.

You hold your hands out to summon your fiddle and bow, only now realizing you don’t exactly know how, “Bamf! Please, I need you! Exist!” They appear in your hands, and you immediately bring them to your shoulder and strings respectively. 

Stress.

So much stress.

This is your first battle where you’ll actually have to fight. 

And now you don’t have an other-worldly being’s clairvoyance to help you.

No time to think, only do. 

So you cope the only way you know how to in high-stress situations: you make it a joke.

You whip out that song you learned years ago as a meme that will forever be ingrained into you in both regular and muscle memory. 

‘My friends would be so disappointed in me if they could see me now, but I know they’d do the same thing. I miss those dumb fucks.’

D0, D0, A3, A0.

The years it has lived as a meme have, despite its intensity, altered your brain to find the song quite amusing.

Megalo-fucking-vania.

Yeah, no, you’re still disappointed in yourself.

Along with the first note flew an eldritch blast from your instrument, hitting the goblin archer that had clambered up to the top of the rock formation next to you. {Attack Roll = 20, Critical Hit}, {Force Damage = 12}.

The goblin staggers back a few steps, looking quite hurt, but still standing. Their attention now on you, they ready their bow, aiming to fire at you. You keep playing, hoping for another eldritch blast to come out, but to no avail.

‘Fuck, fucK, fuCK FUCK– quick, gazelle maneuvers, go!’ 

You try your best to zigzag about, but it is much more difficult to do while playing an instrument. Just as you take a step to the left, the goblin releases the arrow, lodging itself into the ground behind you after grazing your leg, leaving a sizable gash. 

‘National Geographic, you fucking liars! This doesn’t help at all! I know I’m not a gazelle but I’m just as terrified as one right now!’ You hissed at the sting, but you never stopped playing, even as the notes screeched and came out wrong. You could not afford to lose momentum. 

Your perseverance is rewarded when but a second later you feel the familiar gathering of energy as you fling another eldritch blast at the archer, though your forced spiccato, courtesy of your graceful movements, makes your notes come out a bit wonky. This one, perhaps due to your dodgy performance, goes high, arcing over the goblin’s head. {Attack Roll = 9, Miss}.

‘Shit.’

As the goblin reaches to ready another arrow, you skirt back around the outcrop, losing sight of the archer, hoping they’ll also lose sight of you. Classic “I can’t see you, you can’t see me” logic that definitely applies here. You don’t bother trying to hide, afterall, your music would immediately give away your location. You instead switch targets to another goblin in combat with the human who had jumped down. This time, when your attack goes off, it hits the far goblin and knocks them to the ground. They don’t get back up. {Attack Roll = 17, Hit}, {Force Damage = 8}. 

The man looks at you and gives a short nod of appreciation before setting his sights on another enemy to go after. An arrow shoots into the ground in front of you from above, the shock making your bowing stutter. You look up and see the goblin archer you were aiming at before now standing on the outcrop directly above you, eyes glaring into your own. You leap away and move your bow harshly, ignoring any mistakes you make. Now’s not the time to worry about intonation. This time, your attack hits them right between the eyes. They’re flung backwards and don’t reappear. Another dead. {Attack Roll = 15, Hit}, (Force Damage = 5}.

The battlefield is a cacophony of steel meeting steel, battle cries, screams of anguish, and your frantic melody.

“Guaaagh!” 

You jump and spin around when you hear a gurgling cry behind you. You aim the scroll of your violin towards them, but quickly halt your bow when you’re met with Astarion pulling a dagger out of the neck of a goblin that had snuck up behind you.

“Careful now,” he playfully chides. “I’d hate to see you lose that darling neck of yours so soon.”

You purse your lips, but don’t say or do anything, still staring wide-eyed. ‘Says the man who was planning on holding a knife to said neck when we first met.’ 

The sounds of the battle around you begin to die out, the fight finally over.

Things were… much harder this way. Without a convenient voice in your head who was actively predicting the enemies moves, you had become so much more vulnerable. If Astarion hadn’t been there…

‘I might have died…’

‘I… I-I don’t…’

“I don’t want to die here…” you quietly whisper to yourself, staring at the smears of blood streaked across the clearing, lumps of beings which were once sentient laying motionless in the dirt. You decide that now is a good time to do some cloud gazing.

Muttering a small poof under your breath, you let your violin vanish back into whatever storage dimension it now called home. You pause, realizing your mistake. You can only summon and dismiss it once per day. A wash of panic floods over you, before you remember the whole “new power” information injection you got that morning. You’re fine, you can summon it again. Your shoulders slacked, relaxing.

“That was the last of them,” you hear Zevlor from atop the cliff, reaffirming the fact that the battle was over. “Inside–all of you. More may follow. Open the gate!”

This time, the gate is able to fully open. The three humans who were yelling before, all dressed in matching green outfits, are quick to get inside, followed by the darker skinned man who had nodded at you during the fight. 

Thoroughly drained, you trail after Preminger, who you should maybe give the grace of dropping the nickname since he saved you, but based on your past experiences, he’d probably earn himself a new one soon enough. Your eyes don’t drift from his back as you walk, not until you rejoin the rest of your party in front of the gate, any and all viscera behind you and out of sight.

“Everyone all right?” Tav checks up on everyone, handing out healing potions to everyone in your group who needs one, yourself included. Your leg still stings, even more so without the adrenaline. It’s bleeding a decent amount, the fabric of your precious Terran clothes growing dark and damp around it. You’re going to have to get some new clothes so you can wash it out before the blood fully sets. Making a mental note to get some needles and thread to repair it later, you uncork the small bottle and take a quick whiff. It’s a sweet smell, almost fruity, but not quite. You shrug and down it. That sweet aroma is also seen in its flavor, along with an earthy bitter undertone that lingered in your mouth afterwards. That part wasn’t so pleasant.

FD starts speaking to Shadowheart about something, but you don’t hear it, busy with your own thoughts.

‘Why the fuck did I play megalovania? Why am I such a disappointment? It’s a great song, honestly, but… it kinda makes me feel like your average angsty teen on tumblr.’

Still wallowing in your own shame and despair, Tav turns and heads into the fort, the rest of your group following her.

Magic Roomba falls into step beside you, “Are you all right? You’re looking quite a bit more dour than before. Are you not used to combat? If this is about your performance in the fight, I can assure you, you did quite well and pulled your own weight; no need to worry.”

‘Wait, did I really do that badly in the fight that he felt the need to reassure me? I wasn’t even thinking about that… aw man this day just got worse.’

“Oh, I also noticed that song you were playing. I don’t believe I’ve heard any melodies like that before; is it a style unique to your hometown?”

“…Is there a good place to kill myself around here?”

Gale squints and tilts his head, “pardon?”

You wave him off. [Nevermind, it’s nothing.]

‘C’mon me, it’s okay. Nobody here knows. You don’t have to wallow in shame,’ you attempt to comfort yourself before another thought pops into your head. ‘But, on the other hand,  If I focus on my own shame I won’t have to unpack all these other distressing emotions I got from my newly found trauma of committing murder! …Both options are pretty bad, aren’t they…’

“There are children here, you fool!” A very angry and very loud voice distracts you from your thoughts enough to keep you from going down either path of wallowing.

‘Oooh, drama~ Looks like I don’t need to worry about introspection anymore! If only I had some popcorn…’

“We was running… for our lives.” 

Miss FD leads your entourage up to the heated argument happening between a tiefling you remember shouting from atop the gate and one of the humans who was stranded outside with all of you.

“You led them straight to us, and you let them take the druid, too. Unbelievable!” The tiefling continues to yell, paying your party no mind.

“One fight just ended, and now you’re picking another? Relax,” Tav tries to diffuse the argument, classic fake smile in place.

‘Oh yeah, Tav was definitely in customer service. Looks like they also get de-escalation training here.’

“Tell that to the dead at the gate,” the tiefling responds to Tav, no longer yelling but just as upset.

“Shut it, horns,” the human leans forward, face slightly scrunched in a pseudo-snarl. “I’d be lying dead next to the goblins if you’d stalled any longer.”

“My duty is to this camp.”

“God forbid you risk your precious tail. But I shouldn’t be surprised. Foulbloods ain’t known for courage.”

You flinch away, taken aback. ‘Yo, I don’t have to be from here to recognize that was a slur. Uncloseted racists, huh…yeesh.’ 

You see the tiefling’s eyes narrow, expression going dark. He raises a fist and slugs him, hitting him directly in the temple. The human falls to the ground, unconscious.

‘Nice,’ You nod in approval at his actions. ‘Fuck racists. Or would it be specists? Speciecist? Ah, who cares. Same difference. Still, though. Not cool.’ 

The tiefling sighs and shakes out his fist. “Enough. The goblins have found us. No doubt, the beasts will be back. We need to pack up and leave. Immediately,” he commanded, words directed towards the other tieflings in the camp. He crosses his arms and gives the unconscious human another look of disdain. “Seems his skull isn’t as thick as I thought,” he says to himself.

“Now that’s settled,” he looks up, locking eyes with Tav, “I wouldn’t have looked to a drow for help, but I’m grateful all the same. I’m Zevlor.”

‘Aw, come on, man! You’ve got discrimination in you too? I know that in D&D lore, drows aren’t looked upon favorably, but I was hoping for better since nobody in our party seemed to mind.’

“I’m Tav,” she replies, unfazed. You feel a bit sad, thinking that maybe Tav has had no choice but to get used to it.

“Well met. I should warn you– visitors are no longer welcome in this grove,” Zevlor cautions. “Whatever your business, I’d see to it quickly– the druids are forcing everyone out. This attack will only strengthen their resolve.”

“Why are they forcing you out?”

“There have been several attacks by different monsters. The druids blame us ‘outsiders’ for drawing them here. Nobody’s welcome anymore. They’ve started a ritual to cut the grove off from the world outside. We can’t stay, but we’ll be slaughtered if we leave- we’re no fighters.”

“So, what even brought you all here in the first place?”

“We’re refugees from Elturel– we took shelter here after gnolls attacked us on the road. We were bound for Baldur’s Gate, and it was too late to turn back. Elturel had no place for tieflings after the Descent.”

‘I have no idea what they’re talking about now. Elturel? Descent? Maybe it was one of those fancy cities but it fell? Oh, maybe there was a heist done by a group of tieflings who made off with the anti-gravity magic engine and caused the city to fall? Yeah, that would make sense then.’

“Hmm, if your people survived that, they’ll survive anything.”

‘Yeah, an entire city crashing into the ground would be pretty devastating, wouldn’t it? Lots of deaths and injuries no doubt. If that’s the case, then it sounds like this conversation is about to take a dark turn, and I already have enough shit to worry about right now. I wanna know so bad because I’m too curious for my own good, but I know that I’ve got a raging guilt complex that’ll make me worry about them way too much if I find out what happened… Step away, (y/n), just step away. You’re in a land of monsters and magic where you know practically nothing; you can’t afford to worry about others.’ 

Steeling your resolve, you step away, the group not noticing your departure as you were already lingering towards the back. Behind you and to your right, you spot a comfortable-looking shaded area across a log bridge. Devoid of any people, it looks like the perfect place for you to take a break, because now that your adrenaline rush is over, you can feel the exhaustion setting in. You quietly walk over, your years of practice of silencing your footsteps coming in handy to stay out of anyone’s notice. The large lone tree that stood near the cliff’s edge looked quite inviting, something you could lean your back against.

‘Astaroth? You there, bud? I’d really like it if you could explain why you showed up like a severe weather alert then immediately ghosted me.’

Still no response.

‘Is that man really that dangerous that Astaroth had to interrupt his rest to warn me?’

You’re just a few steps away from the tree now, fully ready to take a moment to rest and breathe– and by that you mean go into a thought spiral of anxiety wondering what could have caused your patron to be so wary. What you were not expecting was for a squirrel to lunge at you and bite at your toes, preventing your spiral from even beginning. At least, it was biting at where it thought your toes were. Since your newly acquired boots were too big, your feet didn’t reach that far. You squeak and try to shake the creature off your foot while maintaining your balance. Thankfully, it quickly let go, so you took a step back, watching as it stanced up.

“Are even the squirrels out to kill me? Why are you like this, Faerûn?”

“I was so interested to see what our little bard-who’s-not-a-bard was up to, sneaking away like that, but I wasn’t expecting to see you in a fight with a squirrel of all things.”

You whip your head around to see Astarion. ‘I don’t think I like being the one who is getting snuck up on.’

“Oh, don’t mind me–I’d much rather see how this plays out, especially since it seems the squirrel is winning,” he crosses his arms, smirking at you.

You pout and deadpan. ‘You know. I was really about to let the whole nickname thing go, but you know what? You make a pretty convincing argument for why I shouldn’t.’

“Oh, fine, fine– you’re no fun. There’s an apprentice healer in the grove and our fearless leader thinks we should go see them,” he says as he begins inspecting his nails. “Not that they’ll actually be able to do anything about these worms, but I suppose any information could be useful.” 

He turns around, a silent cue to follow him. You do so, fully turning your back to the squirrel who thankfully doesn’t give chase. You find Tav and the rest waiting for your return, making you feel a bit bad for being the reason for the delay.

“There you are,” Tav says with that same smile on her face, “Let’s all go meet that healer, shall we?”

You passed by a group of three tieflings arguing over whether they should leave or stay. Using her expert de-escalation skills, Tav said naught but one sentence to them: “To leave is a heavy choice– it will weigh on whatever path you walk next.” And just like that, they were convinced to stay and ceased arguing. You can’t help but wonder why she stepped in– was it perhaps just an automatic response, as if out of habit? Or maybe she’s just a goody-two-shoes? ‘Well, doesn’t matter, I guess.’

A few meters ahead was a small training ground with children wielding swords against dummies made of wood and cloth. Instructing them was the man who had jumped down from the wall during the fight with the goblins: the fiend’s puppet. Your steps slow, lingering towards the back, ready to  flee if need be. You weren’t a character in a horror movie who doesn’t know how to heed warnings. Better to be careful than not. As the man notices you all approaching, he gives the child he’s currently helping a bit of encouragement before turning to face FD.

“Well met. The Blade of Frontiers at your–” his introduction is cut short as you’re connected to his tadpole, much like how it was when you met Preminger.

The distaste is forgotten as you see a wasteland, ravaged by flames and countless battles. There’s yelling and the clashing of metal. All is chaos and blood, and then you see her: She’s tall and muscular–red skin, one curled horn, and lit ablaze, though the flames do not hurt her. Her black hair with streaks of red– whether it’s dyed or just an illusion from the fire, you can’t tell– is styled asymmetrically, half her hair shaved, the other half falling over the side of her head without any gel to hold it up. She turns to the side and you catch a glimpse of her face.

‘Hello, 911 emergency? There’s a handsome girl in my brain.’

And then it’s over. The connection is severed and the woman's visage is gone.

‘Wait, no, come back, I wasn’t done staring!’

“Hells’ great fires– you were on the ship,” he looked at you all in realization after the memory sharing ended.

“Yes– and we both carry parasites,” Tav replies, voice carrying a slight grim undertone.

“Mm, doomed to shed our skin and become illithid, or so the stories go, but we haven’t sprouted any tentacles– not yet, anyway. Could just be good luck. I’m not so…”

He’s cut off again as the mind link resurfaces and you see her again. ‘Whoohoo! Pretty lady! She’s back!’ This time however, it’s not as pleasant as you feel the man’s emotions towards her: she’s evil incarnate. His emotions stir the beginnings of nausea in your gut. His emotions don’t meld well within you, unlike Astaroth’s. You don’t like it. This connection is shorter than the last, and she’s gone once more, bringing relief as the man’s emotions are gone with it. ‘Yep, that checks out… another villain who’s super hot– literally this time.’

“Shit,” he blurts out, “you saw her: advocatus diaboli.

‘...why did that translate into latin?’

“Her name is Karlach. An archdevil’s soldier I swore on my good eye to kill. I tracked her through the Hells to the mind flayer ship, but the damned illithids infected me before I could end her. She’s out there now, preying on the innocent. If I don't kill her, she’ll leave behind nothing but a trail of corpses.”

“Well, we’re looking for a cure to this infection. I’d imagine you’d also be interested in getting cured, so I suggest we partner up,” FD offers.

“Chk! A worthy ally, perhaps, but I’ll waste no time chasing devils while a tadpole feasts on our skulls,” Cowabunger inputs, unclear if she’s on board with the idea of him joining the party or not.

“I’ve seen your people in battle,” the man follows up. “I reckon you are no mere warriors, but a godsdamned army. I’d be a fool to let you turn your back. Pledge me your talents, and I’ll pledge you mine.”

Lae’zel responds with another “chk.”

“I’ll presume that’s githyanki for ‘yes.’ Now let’s move.”

Shadowheart huffs amusedly, “The famous Blade of Frontiers, in the flesh. Clever, this hero act you’ve got going.”

“Hero, blade– names strangers gave me. My friends call me Wyll.”

“Excellent. If we ever become friends, I’ll know what to call you.”

You can feel your eyes open comically wide. ‘Holy shit, Shadowheart, that was kinda brutal.’

“I’m Tav. These are Lae’zel, Shadowheart, (y/n), Gale, and Astarion.”

You nod your head in greeting.

“Pleasure to meet you all,” Wyll smiles. Unlike Tav, his smile is genuine.

‘Holy shit, a genuine nice person. First one of those I’ve met in a while.’

“I hope you don’t mind accompanying us to see the healer first,” FD comments. “We are already here after all.”

“By all means,” Wyll acquiesces. “I’m also not too keen on the idea of becoming a mind flayer.”

As Wyll begins to take the lead with Tav next to him, you wonder if the reason you weren’t filled with hatred at the sight of the devil woman was because your patron wasn’t present. Guess you’ll just have to ask him when he returns.

You’re all led down some stone steps, Tav and Wyll still heading the party: FD for being the de facto leader and Wyll for already knowing the layout of the grove. At the bottom of the stairs is a crowd of tieflings facing off against a few steadfast druids.

“Let my daughter go right now!” One of the tieflings yells. She’s enraged and worried to the point that she sounds as if she might begin to cry.

“She’s a thief, hellspawn, and you will wait for Kagha’s judgement. Now get back.” The druid is unyielding in her reply.

‘What is up with these people and being racist towards tieflings? Typical time period racism I guess? Either way, I gotta come up with yet another nickname.’

“Argh, let me through, mragreshem, or I’ll rip your damned throat out!” The same tiefling as before takes a few steps closer towards the druids.

‘I guess Fiend Puppet is an option, but that doesn’t really roll off the tongue, nor is it funny. Nor do I know the full implications of what the moniker means. Maybe he’s just in a super toxic relationship? Well, probably not, but you never know.’

One of said druids lets out a guttural roar as they shapeshift into a bear, effectively forcing the tieflings back.

‘...I completely forgot that it’s normal for people to shapeshift here… well, turning into a bear is definitely an effective intimidation tactic. I would take notes except for the fact that I’m not a shapeshifter.’

With the tieflings no longer blocking the stairs, Tav steps down. The now-bear growls in attempts to discourage your party’s approach.

“You! Step back,” the druid who was warning the tiefling before had now turned her attention to Tav. “We’ll not tolerate drow in here.”

‘Wyll seems like one of those storybook hero types, like a generic prince charming with one-liners that were meant to be cool but aren’t.’

Tav smiles that wide smile of hers with concealed irritation. “We were told we could find a healer here. We’ll be brief, so please allow us through.”

“Keep back. Force my hand, and I’ll show you its claws.”

‘Come to think of it, do I know any of the names of those types of characters? They're typically pretty bland so I don’t really care too much about them.’

“A moment, Jeorna,” the last of the three druids speaks up, gesturing for Jeorna to lean down and listen as he whispers in her ear.

‘He feels like the kind of guy whose drink of choice is milk.’

“What…? Why would she allow one of them? I… I suppose so, yes.” She leans back up and glares at Tav. “You– apparently Kagha wants to see you. Go ahead.” As Tav starts to walk past, Jeorna speaks again, making Tav pause briefly, “A word of warning. One wrong move and every single animal here will tear you apart.”

“I wouldn’t dream of doing you any wrong, don’t worry,” she replies, never losing her wide smile before she continues with her normal pace.

‘Calcifaust.’

‘I’m sorry, me, I hate to interrupt, but Calcifaust?’

‘Yeah, calcium because he drinks milk and Faust because he took a Faustian bargain!’

‘You know what, it’s fun to say, so we’ll just go with that.’

You follow Tav past the druids, looking at the strange sight of what was obviously a ritual going on in the center of the area: druids chanting and channeling their magic into a small statue on a pedestal.

‘This feels very cultish… I don’t know if I want any part in this.’ You all walk towards a patterned stone wall, which automatically lowers as you approach. ‘Huh… how uncharacteristically modern of them.’

The first thing you notice as you enter is just how much cooler it is inside, pleasantly so at that. Cool and dark, but not too humid despite the pools below: a perfect place to relax, especially if you can find a small nook to be alone in. The potential peace of this place is kept at bay by the cries of a terrified child, however.

“Please, I’m sorry!”

As you go down the stairs, you come across the sight of a woman and a man on either side of a frightened tiefling child. And on the stone table behind her is–

‘It’s a baby!’ A snake, a viper judging by its head's structure, slithers up behind the girl, silently threatening her. ‘Dangerous, yes, but gods do I want to pet it, but I know I can’t, oh, this is torture.’

“This is madness Kagha. She’s just a-” The man standing next to the child protests but is cut off.

“A what, Rath? A thief? A poison? A threat?” The woman, Kagha, you presume, stands firm, unaffected by his words. “I will imprison the devil, and I will cast out every stranger.”

“Pardon, I dare not presume, but I must ask: What’s this girl’s actual crime?” Tav steps forward and asks, warily eyeing the viper.

“Girl? You mean parasite,” Kagha spits out. “She eats our food, drinks our water, then steals our most holy idol in thanks!”

‘...I mean, it’s more of a competitive symbiotic relationship rather than a parasitic one, unless they need to idol to survive; if that’s the case, then yes it’d be parasitic, but seeing as they’re all still alive after the kid stole it, I doubt that’s the case.’

“Rath, lock her up,” Kagha commands. “She remains here until the rite is complete.” She leans down to eye level with the tiefling child, “And keep still, devil. Teela is restless.”

The snake hisses in response, baring its fangs.

‘Oh my god, Teela is such a cute name… I know, not the time, not the place, but come on, it’s a relatively tame venomous snake, who knows if I’ll ever get a chance to safely pet a venomous reptile other than now?’

“Come, Kagha,” Rath tries to dissuade her, “We took back the idol. Surely–”

“Do it,” she cuts him off, leaving no room for negotiation.

There’s a brief second of silence before FD speaks again, “You’ve proven your authority. Proving your mercy as well may help keep things quiet for a while.”

Kagha looks at Tav, a thoughtful expression coating her features, considering Tav’s words. “Fair words.” She turns back to the tiefling, “Child, take to the others word of my grace.” She then glances back to Teela, “Ssifisv– Teela, to me.”

The snake obeys, slithering away from the child and towards Kagha. As soon as the snake is far enough away, the child makes a break for it, rushing past your party and out the door you had just entered. You turn your body to the side to dodge the kid as she nearly shoulder checks you in order to get out. 

Shadowheart winces and jerks back as the child passes her, cradling her hand. “Ngh… it hurts…” she mutters under her breath.

‘See? That’s why I moved out of the way. Looks like Shadowheart wasn’t as lucky.’

“Thank you , Kagha,” Rath says, thoroughly relieved. “Master Halsin would–”

“Halsin isn’t here. Keep his name off your tongue, lest Teela pierce it.”

Rath backs off, moving to sit down instead as Kagha approaches you all, her gaze fixed on Tav. “A deep elf in our grove, on this day. A sign, or rather, a gift.”

‘...I’m sorry, what?’ You were expecting a much harsher welcome from Kagha, considering the druid guard you had just met was so hostile to Tav for being a drow.

“Who better to understand a watchful broodmother than a beloved child of Lolth?”

Tav’s eyes narrow in distaste, her smile faltering. “I have no love for the Queen of Spiders.”

“Indeed?” Kagha takes it in stride, not bothered by the fact she may have just severely offended Tav, if you believe your own observations. “But you do exhibit a talent for self-preservation. A viper bares her fangs defending her brood. Is it not her nature to strike at invaders?” FD doesn’t give her a response. “No matter. I took back the Idol of Silvanus and the rite has resumed. We will seal the grove. Free from harm. Free of intruders.”

“This rite must be born of powerful magic.”

“The Rite of Thorns. It is the Treefather’s gift, that none come to harm. When we speak the final prayer, the Great Vine will sprout forth. The grove will be cloaked in bramble and thorn. No one enters, no one leaves. Sanctuary. None of this can happen while we are infested by outlanders. Silvanus demands that we choke them out.”

‘Um, I may not know much about druidcraft, but choking people out doesn’t sound very druid-y. Aren’t they supposed to be all “one with nature” and stuff?’

Tav just gives a nod to Kagha, whether it was one of agreement or just acknowledgement, well… you really hope it’s the latter.

With a small but satisfied grin, Kagha walks off to one of the inner chambers, Teela in tow. Your eyes watch Teela, a bit disappointed you didn’t get a chance to pet it.

Once she’s out of earshot, Roomba boy can no longer hold back his distaste, “That woman has more venom in her heart than a snake in its fangs, but at least the child is safe. What is youth if not a time to be forgiven for one’s transgressions?”

Tav nods, “I’m glad we intervened. Things could have gotten quite complicated otherwise.”

“Couldn’t agree more. The girl wasn’t innocent, but that doesn’t mean she was guilty.”

FD then looks at Shadowheart, concerned– no doubt she also heard her hiss of pain earlier.

“I know that look– you’re wondering why I was in pain before. Let’s just clear the air about that now,” Shadowheart says with a sigh. “It’s just an old wound that hurts me from time to time. Nothing to be concerned about. It’s nothing to do with the tadpoles at least, in case your imagination is in danger of getting away from you. It’s just…something I have to live with. It always passes quickly though, so I can manage.” 

“All right. Just make sure to tell us if it’s bothering you too much,” Tav says, still mildly concerned. “Nothing good comes from ignoring pain for too long.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

With no one else besides Rath around to ask for directions to the healer, FD approaches him.

“You did well to speak up for the girl,” Rath thanks as he notices your party approaching him. “That snake is fickle. A tragedy prevented.”

“That Kagha seems dangerous,” Tav comments.

‘Oh, thank goodness. Looks like I don’t need to worry about her agreeing with what Kagha said.’

“Well seen. Well spotted. We’ve let a snake replace our leader.”

“Kagha seems happy to rule the roost. Your real leader is Halsin, I’m guessing?”

“Aye. Perhaps goblin-caught, perhaps dead now. He’d set… Mistress Kagha back in line,” his face scrunched in disdain when he used Kagha’s new title. “Hold her to task. Stop this damned ritual. More will die if the rite is finished. So many more, sent into a world gone mad…” He ends with a solemn tone and expression.

“My condolences. I’m afraid I’ve no time for pleasantries though. I heard there was a healer here, Nettie, I believe. Could we meet her?”

“Ah, I see. You will find her deeper in the caves,” Rath points towards a nearby stone archway. “Though not as skilled as Master Halsin, she will be able to patch you up just fine.”

“This Halsin is a skilled healer then?”

“The best the grove has to offer.”

“If no one’s looking for Halsin, I could do it,” Tav offers.

‘Wait, what? I mean, yeah that’s probably what I would have done, but can’t you, oh, I don’t know, ask for our input first since your “I” definitely means “we?”’

“Would you? I would give anything to see Halsin return  home.”

“No need to fret. I’ll find him.”

“Silvanus’ blessings upon you, and my gratitude as well. Halsin is an elf with the presence of a bear. He left west, with the adventurers. You won’t mistake the First Druid for anyone else.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. I wish you good fortune enough that he may return on his own,” she says, receiving a nod in response from Rath.

Walking past him and under the archway, you end up in a round chamber, where you can see a dwarf fussing over an injured bluejay. Tav walks up and pauses in front of them.

“I see you. Just give me a moment,” the dwarven woman says. FD remains silent, waiting. “Vis medicatrix…” The dwarf chants, white strands of magic leaving her hands and surrounding the bird, which stands up. “There. It’s up to her now. Life or death. Now, what–” she cuts herself off as she sees Tav for the first time. “Drow. Last time I saw one of you folk, he tried to slit me open. I hope you’re more agreeable.”

“Where did you see another drow?” Tav asks, curious.

“That’s neither here nor there,” she brushes off the question. “Look, you obviously want something. What is it?”

“Healing. Looks like I came to the right person.”

“I do what I can. For most folks, that’s enough. Come here. Let’s have a look at you.” Tav leans down so that she’s eye-level with who you presume to be Nettie. “You seem healthy enough. A bit tired ‘round the eyes, maybe.”

“Tired is a bit of an understatement.” Tav pauses for a moment, opens her mouth, closes it, then opens it again. “To keep it brief, something crawled into my eye.”

“Crawled in? Some sort of bug or–wait…” she takes a step back. “Did it look like a tadpole? But from your worst nightmare? All slime, teeth, and tentacles?”

“You know of them? Can you help me?”

“I–I’ll do what I can. Follow me. I might be able to help.” She turns around, gesturing for your party to follow. “We need to be quick. This way.”

She leads you to another stone door, which you did not realize was such until it too lowered like the one at the entrance. This chamber is smaller, with statues of wolves decorated with glowing blue markings. There are two stone tables to the left: one holds candles and what looks to be medicinal plants and substances, and the other is being used as a final resting place for a dead drow.

‘This looks like an offering site where you would try to summon the two wolves inside of you.’ You try to distract yourself with a silly thought as you keep your gaze away from the corpse.

“Don’t worry about him on the table. I’m not in the habit of killing drow,” Nettie explains. “He attacked Master Halsin and I in the woods, leading a pack of goblins. Tadpole crawled out of his head soon after.”

“He and I have the same kind of parasite?” Tav asks, seemingly unbothered by her dead kin.

“Seems so. Gave Master Halsin a right start. It’s why he joined the adventurers on their expedition. To find out what was happening. A pity you got me instead of him. He understands these things– studied them. Still, we have two options.” She pulls out a thorny stick, holding it in her hand. Her arm is lax but her grip is tight.

“What’s that plant? Will it help?”

Nettie shifts her weight. “It might, but first things first. Tell me about your symptoms– have you noticed anything strange happening?” 

Tav’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “It ‘might’? What aren’t you telling me?”

“I’m telling you everything you need to know. Believe me on that.”

‘“Everything we need to know,” huh? That’s a red flag if I’ve ever heard one.’ You glance around you, making sure there’s nobody hiding nearby and that the stone door is still open. You go to lean against the wall, trying to stay casual. You don’t trust this, and having your back facing an open doorway is a bad idea.

“I want to help you,” Nettie continues, “but I can’t unless you work with me. So, has anything unusual happened to you?”

“I can merge my mind with anyone else that’s infected,” Tav says, ending on a downwards intonation, implying that that’s all, not about to offer up any other information.

“Victims can identify each other? Not that the others know they’re victims, of course. How’d you pick up the parasite? Halsin was desperate to find where all this was happening.”

“Look, are you going to cure me or not?”

“I’m trying to help you, but I need to be sure. So tell me, where'd you get that thing?”

“I don’t know, I just woke up with it.”

“All right. I suppose that makes things easier. Give me your arm, please.”

Tav hesitates, then slowly holds out her arm. Nettie grabs Tav’s arm and quickly pierces her with the stick’s thorns.

“There. Be careful. Your legs’ll probably give out first.”

With narrowed eyes, Tav reaches to grab the branch from her, but Nettie steps out of her immediate reach.

“It’s too late. It’s already in your system. I’m truly, truly sorry. For what it’s worth, the poison is painless. It’ll be like going to sleep.”

“You poisoned me huh?” Tav scoffed, not sounding all too surprised. “Heh, should’ve known…” Her face fell to a scowl as she gazed at her pricked arm.

“Please, try to relax. This doesn’t have to be hard.”

“Is there an antidote?” Tav flickered her eyes up to Nettie.

“You can’t have it. I can’t risk you turning– you’d kill us all.”

She turned her head to face Nettie fully. “Give. Me. The. Antidote.”

“I won’t. I can’t.”

“But I don’t have symptoms– I’m not changing.”

Nettie fidgets, her face squinched in reluctance. A few seconds of what you assume is a mental debate later, she relents. “Gods above. It’s a risk, but maybe you deserve a chance…” She sighs, “All right. Master Halsin did say the drow’s tadpole was dormant. Maybe yours is too.” She places the branch down and instead pulls out a bottle filled with a radioactive-green liquid. “Now, this is a vial of wyvern poison. It’s quick and painless. Swear to me you’ll swallow it if you feel any symptoms.”

“All right. Hand it over.”

“Swear it.”

“...I swear.”

“I hope it doesn’t come to that but… thank you. Here,” she hands Tav the poison. “And here’s the antidote. Do not mix those two up.” Tav takes it and pops the cork off, wasting no time before she starts drinking. “I’ve spent my life treating folk and never once saw a mind flayer infection. Then suddenly there’s dozens of you– maybe more. Master Halsin and I were tracking them, studying them, trying to figure out what the hells was going on, because you should all be changing; there should be a small army of mind flayers out there! But you’re not. Weird powers aside, you seem perfectly normal.”

FD wipes her mouth with her arm once she finishes off the antidote. “Cure aside, you must’ve learned something from studying them, at least.”

“For one, that thing in your head is like nothing we’ve ever seen from mind flayers. It’s one of their worms, for sure, but this one gives you powers– telepathic connections– and it doesn’t turn you into one of them. Not yet, anyhow.”

“You said you were tracking other victims. Did they change?”

“Hard to say, but there’s a lot we don’t know. Infected– folks like you– have been converging on an old temple of Selûne, and I’ve no idea why. When Master Halsin heard the adventurers were heading that way, he saw a chance to get answers. Joined on the spot. Whatever he found there, he didn’t  make it back.”

“You think he’s still alive?

“I think so. I hope so. I’ve sent birds to find him, but they can’t get close without goblins trying to shoot them down. You though? You’re one of them–technically speaking I mean; they won’t kill someone carrying their parasite. If you can find Halsin and get him out of there, we can discover what he learned, and perhaps he can save your life. How’s that sound?”

“You’re sure he can cure me?”

“I can’t make any promises. This is like nothing we’ve seen before, but I know this for sure: master Halsin is the only one close to understanding these things. He’s your best bet to survive. Otherwise, that vial’s your only option.”

“Well, we’ve already offered to look for him when we were talking to Rath.”

“You did? Well why didn’t you say something sooner.”

“You never gave me the chance.”

“I… Yes, you’re right. I’m sorry. And thank you. It would mean everything to the grove. To me. I wish I could tell you what happened out there, but those adventurers were the only witnesses, and they’re long gone. All I can say for sure is they all went to the old temple of Selûne and Master Halsin didn’t make it back. Good luck out there, and if things start to go bad, remember the vial. Remember your oath.” With that, Nettie leaves the room, going back to tending to the now-healed bird.

“I can’t believe she poisoned you, tried to put you down like a dying dog without as much as a whisper of consent!” Angry Roomba exclaims after the stone door rises shut behind Nettie.

“It was one hell of a surprise, but Nettie came around.”

“Yes– against her will, without rhyme or reason! How dare she snuff out life with as much thought as snuffing out a bloody candle?”

You look at Gale, concerned. You might not have known him for long, but you’d have never expected just how livid he sounded. 

“Are you all right, Gale?” Tav asked him. Looks like she feels the same way as you.

“Yes…Yes, I am,” he tries to calm himself down, and it works for the most part, but you can still hear that underlying anger when he continues, “It’s just that– had it been me…had it been…” He trails off, and you can see a faint trace of fear in his eyes that vanishes as quickly as it appeared. “But you handled it, and you handled it well! As for myself, I could quite do with a tumbler full of Waterdeep Whiskey. Anyway, we live. For the moment. How about we go find that chap Halsin little miss Poison Ivy mentioned? With a bit of luck, he has the means to offer us a cure rather than a coffin.” And just like that, he’s back to his upbeat self. 

‘I know trauma when I see it, and that man definitely has trauma.’

“Chk, I knew this would lead to nowhere,” Cowabunger, fed up, stops them from even considering continuing their conversation. “The only cure is to have the tadpoles removed by my people. We must find this ‘Zorru’ those ‘teeth-lings’ spoke of and get answers.”

You quickly cover your mouth and stifle yourself after you realize you let out an involuntary chuckle at hearing Lae’zel say ‘teeth-ling.’ Cowabunger crosses her arms and rolls her eyes after Tav corrects her mispronunciation.

“They saw one of my people. That means a crèche is nearby.”

“How about we split up?” Tav offers. “Three groups: one to find Zorru, one to ask around for information on Karlach, and the last for any other information on the area.”

Nobody felt any need to object so you sorted yourselves into groups: Team Totally Tubular Half of TMNT, consisting of Cowabunger and FD, Team One Full Edgelord consisting of Calcifaust for edgy on the inside and Shadowheart for edgy on the outside, and finally Team Comedy Relief made up of you, Preminger, and Magic Roomba. Yes, you came up with the team names yourself, and no, none of them are aware they have team names. Tav had split up the teams and gave brief explanations for why with such confidence behind her words that nobody refused: Tav would have the best chance of convincing Lae’zel if something went wrong, Shadowheart would be able to be more harsh when Wyll could not, and Gale and Astarion would probably have the best chance at communicating with you at the moment, so the groups were decided on those premises. Also because Gale is less likely to rub people the wrong way than Astarion. 

You glance at Preminger out of the corner of your eye. ‘I’ve only known this man for one day and I can already tell he’s a bastard, in a sort of likable sense,’ you think to yourself, grateful that you won’t have to manage Astarion by yourself, since you’re essentially mute. 

The groups split off after you get back to the surface, out in the sun. Your team, the best team, stays behind in this area of the grove while the other two groups head back towards the tiefling camp.

“Ugh, this is going to be so boring,” Astarion whines.

You mime patting him on the back, not wanting to touch without permission. [There, there, I’m sure it won’t be all that bad.]

“Hmm, perhaps it’ll be more entertaining if you do the talking,” he smirks at you. “Yes, I’d say that sounds quite amusing.”

“Wow, very funny– come up with that idea all by yourself?“ you deadpan. Hopefully they’ll at least understand your unamused tone. “Sure, let’s have the essentially mute one do the conversing when we have to others perfectly capable of speech; I’m sure that’ll go perfectly well indeed with the two of you playing interpreter.”

“I think I’m with them on this one, Astarion, assuming they’re saying that we should probably do the talking,” Agreeable Roomba says, looking to you for confirmation, grinning when you nod at him.

“Neither of you are any fun at all,” Preminger pouts like the sad Victorian gossip he is.

‘Sorry man, but my social anxiety has returned now that the adrenaline is gone, so I’m back to being way too scared of people.’ [Oh well].

“Fine, fine. I guess we’ll just have to be boring for now.” His face scrunched with an even deeper pout as he crossed his arms.

“Wonderful. Let’s get started, shall we?” Gale says, looking around the clearing for someone who isn’t busy chanting.

There were really only three or so druids who were free, so you all started with them. Unfortunately, none of them had much to say besides their distaste for either outsiders or comments on the ritual underway. Your next target was a rather eccentric man dressed in blue and talking with a bear. Normally, this wouldn’t be so odd in a druid grove, except for the fact that he looked extremely out of place.

“Oh! Why hello,” the boisterous man clad in blue exclaimed as soon as Inquisitive Roomba walked up, not giving Gale a chance to even greet him. “You were the ones with the drow, weren’t you? I must say, I was quite surprised when I first saw them here, of all places. It’s rare to come across one of them above ground, you know. Rare and intriguing on a day already packed with intrigue!”

Gale opened his mouth to speak but the man kept talking, leaving no room for interruption. “You were at the gates just now too, no? When the goblins came? You saw them up close? A few questions, if you please. There’s no overstating my interest.” 

“Would you answer some of ours in return?” Gale extends an offer.

“But of course! Now, then: How would you describe that particular batch of goblins? Size? Nature? Distinguishing qualities?”

You start to check out of the conversation as Gale begins to give an exact and detailed description of the goblins, just as you would expect from a scholar trying to show off how smart they were. 

‘Yeah, I don’t really think I need to know about the color variations in goblins.’ Out of habit, you reach for your phone, but catch yourself before you bring it out. ‘Ah. Right. I can’t do that here.’ You turn your gaze to the bear, watching as it sleepily lumbers around, idly sniffing around, probably for food. You rock and bounce on your feet in time with a little tune playing in your head, your mind supplementing your idle waiting with its own version of elevator music.

“I do believe it’s our turn to ask some questions of you now, yes?” Gale asks, his answering time finished. Ah, it’s time to check back into reality.

“Go right ahead,” Volo says, tucking away his journal and quill.

“I was hoping you could tell us a bit about the area, what to expect, places of interest, unusual occurrences, so on and so forth.”

“Of course there’s that ship that just crashed, but I doubt you need me to tell you about that; it was practically impossible to miss. There’s also some old ruins south of here– I’m almost positive I heard a bit of a commotion coming from it when I passed by. I’m afraid I’ve not seen much else besides that. Now if you’ll excuse me, I really must be on my way to the goblin camp. Until we meet again!” And just like that he left, not allowing any follow up questions to be asked.

“Well, he was certainly a character,” Preminger of all people mutters. 

‘And you’re not?’ You cross your arms and raise an eyebrow at him– music. You freeze. It’s not the music in your head, it's coming from around here somewhere. You can faintly hear some singing and the plucking of a stringed instrument. Your head snaps to the side towards the direction it's coming from.

“(Y/n)? Is something the matter?” Gale looks at you with a mix of intrigue and concern.

You point in the direction of the music and hum the melody you’ve heard repeat a few times.

Astarion grumbles, “We are not going over there. That singing is downright awful.”

You shrug. [Up to you guys.] ‘Not like I’ll ever suggest we talk to people; my anxiety isn’t called a disorder for nothing.’

“Oh, I’m sure you’re just exaggerating,” Gale says. “The more information we have, the better, so why not at least ask?”

You follow behind Determined Roomba as he begins to head in the direction you pointed to. Astarion huffs in annoyance, but ultimately doesn’t stray from the group; he still frowns the entire way, though. Soon, you’re close enough to actually clearly make out the singing of a woman. Her singing is… admittedly not the best to your ears, but definitely not as awful as Astarion was making it out to be. Who knows, maybe it’s a stylistic thing that you’re just not used to since you’re an alien. For all you know, she could be an expert singer and that’s just how it’s supposed to sound. Plus, considering your taste in music sometimes, you’re really not in a place to judge others. Sometimes you just have to listen to Delfina Plaza but it never starts.

“Dance upon the stars tonight. Smile and pain will fade away. Words of mine will change–no. Become–ugh.” A blue-purple tiefling– it was hard to tell exactly what shade her skin leaned towards was in the spotty shade she sat beneath– was singing alongside her lute on top of a small rocky hill overlooking the grove, performing for a couple of critters. Her singing was warbly at points, as if she were trying to hold back tears.

‘Is she trying to adjust the length of the melody to let her fit in more syllables? No wonder it sounds like she’s struggling.’

“Change? No. Damn it!”

“Are you all right?” Concerned Roomba asked her as your terrible trio strode up to her, understandably worried as she both looked and sounded one more failed lyrical attempt away from throwing her lute to the ground.

“No. I’m moments away from a grisly death…at the hands of this bloody song. I can’t… nothing fits, you know?”

“Well, luckily for you, we happen to have a bard in our party. Perhaps they’ll be able to be of some help?” Gale nods towards you.

You stare at the Evil Roomba of a man wide eyed. ‘That fucking traitor is throwing me under the bus?! Oh that does it, you’re getting a worse nickname. You’ve lost the privilege of being named after a loveable household robot.’

“Oh, yes, I’m sure our bard would love to help,” Astarion gives you a smirk, knowing fully well that you are, in fact, not a bard.

Your eyes dart between the two of them who oh-so-kindly made her your problem. You flip them both off. ‘...You fucking assholes.’ [Fuck you guys.]

“Hm. It can’t hurt. I have her– I have an extra lute, if you want?”

You make no move to help, but Preminger oh-so-kindly nudges (Read: pushes) you forward. You give him a glare over your shoulder, to which he only smiles smugly at, his face reminding you of a satisfied cat who just pushed something off of a ledge.

She holds out the lute for you to grab, “I’m Alfira.”

“(y/n).” You awkwardly pick up the lute and hold it like a guitar. ‘I don’t know how to play the lute.’ You look over the lute you were handed. ‘Four strings, early medieval-style, huh? I wonder if–’ You pluck each open string. “G-D-A-G? Well, I suppose it’s close enough to a violin, even if some of the strings are an octave off. Guess I can shoddily transpose. Lemme just–’ you turn the peg of the second G down to an E and strum them once more. ‘There we go. Nice and familiar-ish.’

Taking your little note test as you ready to begin, Alfira brings her own lute into ready position, “I’ll start from the beginning. We’ll take it slow.”

Dance upon the stars tonight. 

Smile and pain will fade away. 

‘Abwpfft–ah shit we’re already goin’! Well, I don’t know chords so you’re gettin’ some single-note pizzicato!’ 

You start plucking at the strings, sticking to open notes since you don’t know how fretboards are set up for lutes. Guess you’re stuck doing the harmony, which you are A-OK with. Despite your anxiety, you pluck them confidently, because if you don’t play with confidence, it’ll sound like shit no matter what.*

Alfira smiles, encouraged by your playing. She continues.

Word of mine will turn to ash. 

When you call the last light down. 

‘Why am I the only one playing? Why aren’t you playing your lute with me?!’ You continue to play, though Alfira just holds her lute while she sings, not bothering to play it. ‘I can’t just play the same four notes forever! I was planning on watching where you placed your fingers so I can mimic it but nooooo you only want to sing. Well don’t blame me if this doesn’t work,’ you place your fingers down onto the second fret of the A string and thank god it was in key.

Moon reminds me of your grace. 

All the love I can’t repay. 

Rest and know that I will pray. 

Farewell, my dear old friend.

As Alfira trails off, so does your playing. ‘I’m free! Finally!’

Alfira places her lute to the side as she starts to cry. “Sorry.”

‘Heeuugghhhhh that was the most painful thing of my life— oh, I feel sick.’

You see Gale begin to fret with a slight panic as she starts to cry. You flash him a weak grin with a hint of smugness. ‘You gotta do damage control now because I can’t talk. Serves you right for throwing me under the bus.’

“Don’t worry. Cry as much as you need,” Gale placates her, giving no sign of having noticed your self-satisfied expression.

‘That’s right you Farquaad Star Squad Reject, take some responsibility for your actions and chat it up.’

“Heh. She’d have said the same thing,” she sniffled, wiping the tears from her eyes. “That’s the first time I’ve played since Lihala died. My teacher. She was playing her lute. We…didn’t hear the gnolls coming. There was so much blood. I–I can still smell it.”

“Well, you’ve come up with a fine tribute to her.”

“Lihala said that’s why eulogies were important. They were for the living as well as the dead. I’d forgotten what it was like: that itch to perfect a song. Keep the lute. Please. You’ve earned it. The Weeping Dawn will be my gift to Lihala. I’ve a long way to go, but thank you. I…I needed this.”

‘...Guess I’ve got a lute now… where am I supposed to put this?’

“If you don’t mind my asking, where did your group run into the gnolls?” Reject Farquaad asks.

“Northeast of here. If you’re going that way, be careful,” Alfira warns.

The pompous coward thanked her for the information and turned around, nodding at you and Astarion to follow him back towards the way we came, leaving Alfira to her own devices.

‘I feel like we watched her go through the five stages of grief all within the span of five minutes and I was forced to play therapist for all of it.’

“See? Now we know there are gnolls about,” Garquaad says, looking satisfied that we got useful information despite Preminger’s initial reluctance to approach Alfira.

Said other jerk crosses his arms and looks to the side, away from Garquaad. “Fine, I suppose this wasn’t too useless of an endeavor.”

“And, our bard received a gift as well!” The loser reject looks at you with a smile.

Your face remains cold as you tune the E back up to a G. You place your fingers at the sixth fret of the first G, the fifth fret of the D string, and fifth fret of the A string, but leave the last string open: C#-G-C#-G. You lift your right hand and strike down across all the strings. Both members of team traitor grimace at the awful tritone chord you made.

“Good gods, what is wrong with you?” Astarion asks incredulously, covering his ears.

You cross your arms as best you can while holding the lute and puff out your cheeks. [You made me do an impromptu duet! With an instrument I don’t even know how to play!] {Performance = 11, Success}

‘That was an awful experience, forcing me to do a public performance! The two of them deserve to be at the mercy of the diabolus in musica at the very least.’

“My apologies,” Failquaad sheepishly apologizes, as he should, “all the bards I’ve ever come across usually jump at the chance to perform, so I assumed you’d be the same.”

[No, I hate public performances.]{Performance = 15, Success} [Also, not a bard.] {Performance = 7, Failure}

The Fallen Starquaad scratches his head in confusion, “Forgive me for being confused, but why go down the path of a bard if you don’t enjoy performing?”

You throw your head back with a dramatic groan. ‘How many more times am I going to have to explain this?’ Bringing your head back down, you take a breath to calm yourself before trying again. [I am not a bard.] {Performance = 5, Failure}

Again, he just looks at you in confusion, not understanding.

You turn to Astarion with wide, urging eyes and jerk your head towards The Reject. [Can you just tell him? I’m sick of this game.] {Persuasion = 9, Success}

“Well, it was starting to lose its amusement, so, all right,” Preminger accepts and finally explains, “We had a little conversation yesterday and, turns out, they’re not a bard.”

“Truly?” The man who probably couldn’t even pull off tights looks at you, intrigued. “But you use an instrument as an arcane focus, do you not?”

[Well, yes, but… I don’t know. Not a bard, though. Remember that.]

“Hmm, that’s quite interesting, isn’t it? Would you mind if I asked some questions? I’m very curious,” he looks at you with intrigue sparkling in his eyes.

[Um, maybe later.] ‘Really don’t want to discuss it though. I need to keep Astaroth a secret.’

“Perhaps we’ll have a chance when we next make camp.”

[Yeah, sure, sounds great.] ‘Please forget by the time we set up camp.'

“There doesn’t seem to be many other people to talk to, so shall we meet up with the others and see if they’ve had any luck?”

You didn’t have any reason to object and Astarion seemed glad to get as far away from Alfira’s music as possible, readily agreeing. And so, your comedic-trio-who-had-a-falling-out–and-will-no-longer-be-touring started heading back towards the stairs leading up into the tiefling camp half of the grove.

‘…Okay, for real though, where am I gonna put this lute?’

*Best advice I’ve ever gotten from my conductor. Play with confidence. Even if you’re not, play as if you are. Someone who’s playing confidently but hitting the wrong notes will always sound better than somebody who is hitting all the correct notes but playing meekly. 

**If you ever wondered what brimstone smells like, it is that slightly sweet, smoky, and acrid smell when a match is first struck, not the eggy smell of straight up sulfur. While brimstone does mean sulfur, the smell of brimstone refers to the acrid odor of sulfur dioxide.

If you smell burnt matches in your house and you have not been constantly striking matches, there is a good chance that something in your house has started to burn, such as the insulation. Please call emergency services if you smell sulfur dioxide. Don’t just go “huh. Brimstone. Neat!” like I did. 

Fun fact, when I first started writing this chapter all the way back in…*checks notes*...January 2024… the name of this chapter was “Is this foreshadowing or a red herring?” but now, 7 months later, I cannot remember why.

Next Chapter >

[hard-boiled-criminal]

Social Anxiety Really Ruins the Isekai Experience

Previously known as: Brimstone from the Throat

Chapter 2 - Baldur's Isekai

< Ch 1 | Ch 3 >

Masterlist

Ao3 Mirror

 Pliiing…pling-pling-pliNG-pLING-PLING. 

‘Hehe, noise go big~’ You grin as you continuously pluck at the string of your violin as you tuned it, plucking ever so slightly harder and faster each time to make the notes ring louder and louder, a habit you had developed as a child and now think as slightly amusing so you keep doing it. But, such fun must come to an end in the form of perfectly(note: see phrase “good enough”) tuned strings. You run your thumb across the four strings once more.

Bing-bong-bong-bing. 

Your childish grin softened to one of satisfaction at the sound of the four strings harmonizing quite nicely, as was expected, the last note still softly humming from its pluck. And then you purposefully altered your e-string, tuning it to be an e-flat instead. 

BENG-bong-bong-bing.

No longer perfectly harmonized. But it was a necessary sacrifice, not to mention kind of fun. You’d always loved the solo in Danse Macabre with how the violin was purposefully out of tune to create that haunting tritone, the diabolus of music, if you wanted to be edgy about it. And if you were playing along with an orchestra that could fill in the rest of the chord since you can’t really play a full chord on one violin, but who needs them when you’ve got a perfectly good phone!

You pulled up the song on your phone as you stood up and let it begin to play as you readied your violin on your shoulder, bow in hand. 

…you put your bow down.

You clicked on the wrong one. After selecting the one you had been practicing to before, you readied yourself once again, took a deep breath, and put your bow to the strings. With a confident pull, you began, playing along with the music. You swayed along to your playing, letting the natural movement aid in your pushes and pulls with the bow. Or was it the other way around? You could never really tell, the music always taking a hold of you and causing your body to move whenever you performed or simply listened. Only when you were alone though. You’d never let someone else see you perform a solo, no way in hell.

You played the final note and stood there, letting the tone ring out while relishing in the satisfying aftermath of a piece well-played. With a content grin you gently moved the violin off your shoulder.

« T’was a lovely performance. »

“Holy shit– what the fuck!” You flinched, startled at hearing a disembodied masculine voice in your head, instinctively tightening your grip on your violin and bow, afraid of dropping them, pulling them tightly to your chest, spinning on your foot to see nobody behind you– looking left and right and back again and still nobody!

‘...am I being haunted?’

“…Thank you? I suppose?” You answered, nervous and uncertain. If the ghost was being friendly, then sure! You’d play along! You don’t really have the means to deal with a ghost that could talk to you at the moment so you had to put on your extrovert camouflage (which was about as effective as an inquisitive teen’s survival rate in a horror movie) and hoped to keep the ghost friendly so that it didn’t pull a fast one on you and steal your bones and by that you mean posses your body and do embarrassing things and have people upload it to the internet and go viral as that weird person who did something embarrassing in public and then have that haunt you for the rest of your life! Though you couldn’t really hide the fact that you were understandably confused and  just a bit freaked out at the situation, which the ghost may or may not have picked up on, but you’re just going to go with it being a friendly ghost and definitely not that you were doing a shit job at hiding your fear.

« Ah, yes, one should introduce themselves when first meeting an other,» the voice, low and smooth, spoke in dulcet tones. «Thou mayst calleth this one Astaroth. A pleasure to make thine acquaintance. »

‘Astaroth? That sounds… familiar…’ you squinted at the air in front of you as if that would magically help you see this ghost who was probably not a ghost based on the name they gave.

« Ah, I am glad. I hadst known there wouldst be a chance thou hast heard mine name before, though I didst not dare hope of having such luck, » the voice responded to your thoughts, because apparently your inner monologue was now a soliloquy for demons! « If thou art willing, there is a request I wouldst ask of thee. »

“Wait, wait a minute,” you backpedaled. “Look, buddy, I have no idea what’s going on. Am I going crazy? I must be. I’m hearing a voice in my head and talking to myself.” You laughed because what else were you going to do? Not act like a person in a movie would when you’re trying to come off as a quote unquote ‘normal person’ to this demon-ghost dude? Like, yeah, sure, you talk to yourself all the time; that’s normal. For you, anyway. But this guy who speaks in old-timey Shakespearian would probably think you’re a weirdo and would then possess your body so they could ‘besmirch your family name’ or whatever petty things medieval demons did for revenge.

…actually, demons supposedly do stuff with souls don’t they? Or do they actually? You had your little foray into demonology once, but who knows if any of that was true. Maybe they were just some really cool guys who had horns and the old men didn’t like that so they wrote propaganda or something– ‘wait, fuck, I’m in the middle of a conversation–’

“O-Ok, (y/n), no more late-night horror for you—you know it always gives you nightmares, and now they’ve started seeping into the land of the living since you’re sleep deprived.” You say, totally acting like an absolutely normal person who is definitely not a character in a badly written horror movie.

« I assure thee, thou art of good health, thy mind included, » they spoke again, intent on dissipating your perfect facade. Were they onto you? « I only ask of thee to first hear mine plea. »

“…Fuck it, whatever. Go ahead.” You sat down, violin hugged tight to your chest. You were getting tired of masking, and since they could apparently hear your inner monologue, they had probably figured out by now that you were faking it, if your bad acting wasn’t already a dead giveaway, so you might as well let this whole thing play out.

You’re a bit disappointed in your bad acting though. You had prepared and meticulously calculated and acted out so many scenarios that your anxiety-riddled mind came up with, so many worse case scenarios, and had practiced in your head how you would react to them. You had practiced practically everything except for getting haunted by a friendly demon who has a request for you. You always seem to freeze up when it matters most.

A sigh of slight disappointment, though not malicious, came from the voice, « ‘Twould seem thou still hast thy doubts, yet I thank thee all the same, » a pause… and then they speak again, « I am knownst as Astaroth, a demon lord of the Abyss. I have cometh to thee in search of aid for thou hast magickal potential untapped and untampered, and thou hast not been influenced by an other entity. »

“Okay, maou* stuff, classic anime, gotcha,” you nodded, playing along with whatever Astaroth said.

« I knoweth not what thou speakest of, but mineself senseths no hostility, so I shall taketh thy words as positive. »

“Cool.” You cross your legs and wait, but he doesn’t continue. ‘Fuck, do I have to be an active participant?’ You clear your throat. “So, what didja wanna ask me?”

« I require’st thine aid in—Zshaa!»  They interrupted themselves mid-sentence with a surprised and desperate shout, a sound reminiscent of a crash of a violent wave.

The air in front of you rippled and you froze, a scream stuck in your throat as the space in front of you tore open to reveal a velvety black.  

‘Oh god, I’ve insulted the abyss demon by engaging in the conversation and now he’s going to eat me! He’s gonna eat me and I’m not even into vore!’

‘This is why we don’t try to act like an extrovert, me!’ You spit at yourself with venom in your pronoun.

‘Well I’m sorry, other me!’ You remind yourself that as one person, me, myself, and I all refer to you. ‘What were we supposed to do? Just bare our entire soul the ghost-demon lord, who is a stranger I might add, as if we were close friends? NO! What? No!’

‘Yeah, no, you’re right. We’re right. That was the best choice. Maybe we’ll like getting vored more than we think?’ Your mind supplies with a hopefully, shaky tone of someone who didn’t believe their own words.

You give an unimpressed look at yourself with your imaginary eyes in your mind.

‘Yeah, no, I realized how stupid that sounded as soon as I thought it.’

« Quick—! » The voice was barely able to shout out a single syllable before it was abruptly cut off at the same time a giant tentacle emerged from the dimensional rip. You pressed yourself against the back of your chair and opened your mouth to scream as it shot towards you.

“UwaAAAHHH! Not vore! That’s not vore! That is decidedly not vore! I don’t wanna be a hentai protagonist; No–!”

Everything went dark.

You awoke to the feeling of your mind being pulled at, an unnatural force compelling you to wake. It was a sensation unlike anything you had experienced before. It felt as if your brain got whiplashed while your body held still, with a pinpoint headache forming at the center of your forehead.

‘If this is what it feels like to open your third eye, then I think I’d like to close it. I can do without being able to see fae.’

This was your first thought as you were forced to consciousness, your eyelids flickering open, lacking the usual heaviness felt when being woken up.

‘…why is there a person-sized Cthulhu in front of me? And why aren’t they green?’

Your second thought was about this strange creature in front of you, slate-purple in color with four tentacles in place of a mouth. ‘Wait, is Cthulhu even supposed to be green? I guess I just always assumed. Maybe they’re not.’ You watched in morbid curiosity as the Cthulhu-minor, as opposed to Cthulhu-major, raised its four-digit hand and reached out towards you.

‘Is Cthulhu asking for an E.T. moment? Are they saying it was okay that I mistook them for having been green this whole time and we’re trying to bond over an accepted apology for an apology I never made? Well, far be it from me to deny him… that is what they do in E.T. though, right? I dunno, I’ve never actually seen the movie. I’m pretty sure it’s the touching fingers thing like that renaissance piece.’

You tried to raise your hand, but found it trapped underneath something. Attempting to look down and see what held your hand hostage was met with failure as your head was suddenly snapped back up to face the creature head on. You tried to look around in a bit of a panic, not understanding why your body was being pulled around, but you couldn’t move your head– your eyes darted to and fro to compensate, but you couldn’t see much besides the creature. That panic increased tenfold as you watched the Cthulhu hold up a pale, fleshy, leech-like creature and slowly bring it towards your face. You tried to back up against the odd-textured surface behind you—solid in some places and squishy in others.

‘Ew, ew, ew, ew, gross, gross, gross, gross!’

 You tried to close your eyes, but they wouldn’t listen to you. They were being held open as the undulating invertebrate came closer, closing in on your eye.  You could see it clearly: tentacles sprouting from what you could only call its lips, serrated teeth forming a circle within its mouth, a high-pitched screech growing louder as it came nearer. You couldn’t tell if the screech was from it or if it was from you. Frozen in place, you could only watch as it leapt forward, grasping your eye.

You can’t recall what happened after that, now finding yourself spread out on the ground in such a way you wouldn’t have been surprised if there was a chalk outline around you, the beginnings of a migraine forming behind your eyes. You sit up slowly, legs bent and splayed to your sides, hand resting on the floor in front of you. You stare ahead blankly, looking but not truly seeing what’s in front of you, your vision not focusing, not that you even tried to do so yet. Your mind was still busy waiting for its own dial-up tone to end so that you could reconnect to your thoughts. You sit there in silence, minutes passing by, all sounds around you muffled to complete unintelligibility. 

“…What the fuck,” you shakily whisper, but no one was around to hear it.

Your senses slowly come back to you, letting you begin to process all the stimuli assaulting you. It was warm—hot— sweltering in the dimly lit room, like the most uncomfortable sauna ever made. The sound of roaring wind, explosions, and actual roaring of some kind of creatures can be heard through the walls, interrupted by rumbling roars and quick, intermittent explosions. The walls and floors are all slightly squishy and sometimes they pulse a little bit, as if it were alive and breathing like some kind of creature.

« …ng one? Young one, art thou able to hear mine voice? » You hear the warm voice of Astaroth, the only thing that’s at least slightly familiar right now.

“Astaroth?” You weakly ask. “Is that you? Wha-what’s going on? Am I dead? Or am I alive but currently vored? Or maybe about to come to the horrifying truth that I’ve become a hentai protagonist– namely the woman’s role in a tentacle monster episode?”

You hear a sigh filled with relief and guilt pass through your mind. « With great shame, I must apologize to thee, young one, » his voice is low, sad, and filled with utmost remorse. « ’Twould appear that mine defenses were lacking, for a nautiloid breached mine channel and hadst used it to taketh thee. Thou art in a different realm, connected to a material world far removed from thine own. »

“I’m what?” ‘A different realm? A material world? What the fuck is happening? Oh dear lord I got isekai’d to a tentacle hentai world, didn’t I?! Nope! NO! I don’t wanna!’ You glance over the dark room you find yourself in, trying to discern what exactly happened. You see your violin and bow scattered across the floor, both close enough for you to reach over and grab. You hold your instrument close and move your legs to sit criss-cross as Astaroth continues to speak.

« …I am truly sorry, young one. More needs be discussed betwixt us, yet that must wait for a later time. I senseth the approach of three beings whose intentions I knoweth not. » He pauses for a brief second before taking on a serious tone, not unlike one of a commander. 

« Unto thee I swear this: For as long as thou art willing, I shall protect thee as I can until the time hast come when thou mayst pact with mineself. On mine name and on mine honor, I commit to this oath. » His tone then returns to a much softer one, gentler than anything else you’ve heard from him. « ’Tis mine own fault thou art in this predicament. I shall aid thee. Thou wilt not be bound to fulfill mine request, though I hope thou shalt consider it once there is time laid before us to allowest conversation. »

“I—I still don’t really know what’s going on, but thank you, Astaroth,” you can feel yourself begin to smile, “I’ll put my trust in you.” The brief thought that you might be feeling the beginnings of some kind of stockholm syndrome passed through your head, but you quickly pushed it away. ‘I need all the help I can get right now. We can think about all that emotional unpacking and critical thinking or whatever later.’

You feel a gentle warmth bloom throughout your body, starting at your sternum. This warmth is pleasant despite the boiling air of the room trying its hardest to steam you like a pork bun.

« Of course, young one. Now be on thy guard. The three of whomst I hadst spoken of have arrived. »

You nod and stand up on shaky legs with the constitution of a newborn fawn, the ground also very warm beneath your sock-clad feet; it seems your kidnappers weren’t kind enough to get you some shoes. Afterall, you weren’t a heathen who wore shoes around their house, so naturally you weren’t wearing any when you were kidnapped. Now you seem like the dumb one. Maybe those mud-trackers were onto something, always prepared for aliens to invade at any time.

 ‘Okay… You can do this, (y/n). You’ve got a demon lord in your corner, and a….’ You look at your violin you were clutching close to your chest by its neck in one hand and bow in the other. ‘A pokey stick…’ you adjust your grip to  hold your bow like a rapier. “...and a,” you wince, “a bludgeoning weapon…“ You flip your grip on your precious delicate instrument to hold it like a club. It hurts your soul in an indescribable way, but if you have to do it, you will… will you have enough guts to hurt your beloved? …OH well, guess you’ll find out when–if! If the time comes. Your bow, on the other hand, isn’t as important, much more easily replaceable. While you really don’t want to damage it, if it means you can poke that squid-face’s eye out with it, then so be it.

Across the room, the sphincter-like portal opens by twisting apart from the center. The motion and sound of it combined with its design made you want to retch. ‘Oh fuck that’s disgusting and is only further proving that I might have been right with the vore theory…’ You pause. That door plus the surprisingly fleshy interior of the room make it feel like you’re inside something that is very much alive. ‘Wait… was I actually vored?! what the fuck, fate? I was joking!’  More light filtered in as the door fully opened, just enough so you could clearly see the finer details of your surroundings. Three humanoid figures entered, weapons drawn—well, one of them just held their fists up but to each their own. 

Then, you get a good look at them.

By the gods, they were beautiful. 

Three gorgeous femme figures: A pale one with dark hair tied high in a long braid, one red-haired and green-skinned with black markings, not human but you shouldn’t be surprised after seeing a Cthulhu-type creature earlier, and finally a purple elf with hair white as snow,  hanging down her back in a thick braid, the length great enough to reach the back of her knees.

‘A generic “evil-ified” elf version of Snow White, huh? Normally I wouldn’t complain but that washed-out blue and yellow outfit she’s wearing is awful.’

Your appreciation (and unappreciation for the outfit) is sadly cut short when they point their weapons, or fists, courtesy of the goth Disney teen’s OC, at you. Violin and bow still held tightly, you immediately give up on the notion of fighting and raise your hands to the sides of your head: the universal sign of surrendering, or at least you hope it will translate as such in this different realm. Then the purple elf speaks. It’s a language unknown to you, its syllables filled with as many consonants as seemingly possible, including sounds you aren’t even sure your mouth can make. To be fair, it’s a bit hard to hear with the constant roaring of whatever else is happening on the other side of the wall. You stare, eyes wide open and flickering between the three of them.

“Uhhhhh…”

 « Ah, yes, I hadst almost forgotten. This may feeleth a bit strange to thee, but it shall allow for you to understand the tongues of this world and its realms, to an extent, » Astaroth said, though it seemed the people in front of you couldn’t hear his voice, or they at least made no indication of hearing him. You feel a gentle touch to your temples, that same comfortable warmth you felt earlier spreading throughout your head and easing the small migraine to nothingness.

You see the elf, who you’ve now unfortunately nicknamed Fashion Disaster, open her mouth again before you flinch at a sharp pain in your mind in the same place as the migraine you had just been relieved of. You see flashes of one of those tentacled beings putting a leech in the green one’s eye before floating over to do the same to you. A shiver crawls up your spine, the sight predictably giving you the heebie-jeebies. ‘Eugh, gross.’  Yeah, that is you from a third person perspective! Oh wow, you looked exhausted. Did you look that exhausted when you were at home? No, surely not! Right? Right. …But wait, that means that weird leech thing was inside your head!  Great, so not only were you vored, you had something with sharp teeth stuck in your head! Well, either way, these aren’t your memories, so maybe you should focus on that now. You open your eyes, not realizing you had even closed them, and see all the women clutching their heads, wincing in the same way you are.

“Looks like you’re in the same boat as us,” Fashion Disaster says, seemingly trying to smile, though it ends up looking more like a grimace. 

Your eyes widen a bit, amazed that you can understand her. You can still hear her speaking that odd language, but it is almost like it’s being automatically translated in your head with about a one second delay, you want to say.

“First things first, we need to get to the helm to get off this ship,” she continues. “You should join us. We infected should stick together, don’t you think?” She smiles kindly at you.

“Chk! We cannot afford to pick up any more strays, istik!” The green one, sounding very annoyed, directs her gaze to the Fashion Disaster.

‘Ah, so she’s green for a reason– grumpy like the Grinch and Shrek. Now which one do we call her?’

“More allies means more firepower, right?” Fashion Disaster tries to placate her.

‘Maybe we call her Oscar? Like the grouch? Or maybe Perry the Platypus at Home. Discount Perry for short.’

“Hmph. This one looks pitiful. If they fall behind we leave them. I have no interest in the weak,” she turns around after spewing some harsh words at you. “We have no time to waste. We must get to the bridge now!”

‘...You know what. I was gonna go with Grave Digger, but just for that I’m calling her Raphael since he’s the worst turtle of the bunch and some day I’m gonna trick her into unironically saying “cowabunga” in everyday sentences. Wait, no better idea, let’s call her Cowabunger. Hell yeah, me, we are so good at nicknames.’’

As the green one starts to walk out of the room, Fashion Disaster(FD) smiles sheepishly at you while the ravenette, who shall henceforth be known as Hot Topic Wannabe, stares at you, appraising you, with arms crossed. 

“Ah, don’t mind Lae’zel,” FD says, “I’m sure she just stressed. We don’t want to get left behind, so let’s get going, yeah?”

“Oh, uh sure. Yeah,” you clumsily agree and step towards her.

She gives you a confused look but shrugs it off in favor of following the one you now know as Lae’zel, but are still going to call Cowabunger. Hot Topic Wannabe eyes you one last time before joining her. You quickly fall into step beside them, the three of you trailing behind Cowabunger.

« Looks like you’re able to understand them now. I am most glad. » Astaroth speaks in what you presume to be his native tongue. His language is beautiful, sounding like softly droning ocean waves. « I’m afraid I was unable to, for a lack of a better term, import the ability to speak these languages into your mind. It is much more difficult to implant such finite muscle memory paired alongside their respective reverse-translation routes. » He hummed in thought, « This will take some time for me to formulate but I will grant you the ability to speak common as soon as possible. »

‘Ok, cool, but a quick question. Why did your speech pattern suddenly change?’ You ask him. You weren’t really paying that much attention to what he was saying in favor of adjusting to the sudden change in grammar.

« I’m a bit embarrassed to say this but my knowledge of your language is a bit outdated. fHow I spoke to you is the most recent knowledge of your tongue I have, » he explains, sounding a tad sheepish. « If you would allow me to look into your mind, I could begin to compile an updated vernacular. »

‘As long as it doesn’t hurt, then sure, knock yourself out.’

« Thank you. Hopefully this will help quicken my composition process to allow you to speak freely. But for now, I’ve been seeing that drow stealing glances at you. » You turn your head to see what he’s talking about and sure enough FD’s looking at you, and you end up meeting the drow’s eyes. « I’ll leave you to speak, or well, listen to your new companion. Fret not, though, I’ll be here should you need me. »

…Yeah, looking at her now, you really should have put two and two together to realize she’s a drow. Let’s just say you didn’t want to assume it wasn’t just some super elaborate cosplay. Yeah, perfect.

Locking gazes with the drow seemed to be all the permission she needed to strike up a conversation with you. “Well, I think some introductions are in order. As I said before, that’s Lae’zel,” she pointed to Cowabunger. “The quiet one is Shadowheart,” she gestures towards HT Wannabe this time, “and you can call me Tav.” She smiles at you, “and what about you? What’s your name?”

“…(y/n).” It’s just your name, so you shouldn’t need to rely on a translator, right?

“Huh, never heard that one before,” Tav taps her bottom lip once. “Exotic! I like it!”

Tav was very… upbeat considering the whole ‘getting vored from both inside and out’ situation and had been using a friendly tone you know all too well. How could you not recognize it when you had perfected that same tone and had been using it for years? Even across worlds and in an alien language, the customer service voice is always the same.

“Silence your mindless chatter!” Cowabunger shuts down your introductions, sadly not with her signature hearty cry of ‘cowabunga’. “The bridge is just up ahead.”

*maou: Japanese demon king/demon lord. A classic character you’ll find in lots of Japanese media. Hello, yes, hi, it’s me, an avid consumer of isekai.

Speech key:

« Astaroth »

(“Tadpole talk”)

‘Thoughts’ - can be to self or Astaroth, depending on context

“Spoken aloud”

[Approximate sign language]

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[hard-boiled-criminal]

Social Anxiety Really Ruins the Isekai Experience

Previously known as: Brimstone from the Throat

Chapter 1- The Pain Means You're Still Alive

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Masterlist

AO3 Mirror

Tag warnings: body horror -/- fire

It was meant to be dark here. The light was always dim in this layer, making the bottoms of the pits coating the land’s surface like pores even darker.

His pit shone brightly like a dying star.

Ironically fitting, given their circumstance, so much so they might have chortled at their misfortune once, but that was long ago.

Nothing could be heard over the roaring of the intense, ever-burning flames of their personal star, the fire feasting on their flesh, their bones, their meat. They don’t remember when they stopped screaming. They could not count how much time had passed yet they were so torturously aware of every moment, forcefully kept conscious with no moments of rest and their soul knew how long they spent there, the years etched and scored on their spirit so deeply they could never be removed. They had just gotten so used to the constant agony and accepted there was nothing they could do like this, so they simply stopped. What point was there in screaming when there was no one who could hear it? When all it did was hurt them more?

Their throat still burned, and though it didn’t hurt any less, it now at least wasn’t because of their own hoarse voice choking on smoke and bile, crying out in endless agony. 

Hope was scarce in this place. They dared to hope once, but it was snuffed out as quickly as it was lit. 

They had no one but themself.

But that wasn’t enough. 

This was their only option. They needed to go outside of his influence. Somewhere far, far away. They could only have faith in the power they had been slowly accruing over the many millennia they had lived and died in agony wouldn’t be used in vain. It paled in comparison to what they wielded when they were first consumed by this fire, desperately clawing his way out with fingers that turned to ash too quickly to catch on to handholds, but it would be enough for this plan.

The cycle began anew, flesh remade.

With a weak, lonely hand, they reached out, bright white flames licking at their already-scorched fingertips.

They tapped at the air with their clawed middle finger. Though nothing was there, the digit bounced back as if it hit a wall. Delicate bands of magic, glowing and cerulean blue, rippled out from the nothingness he touched, warping and wobbling as they grew in size and number, then stabilizing into a target of seventy-two perfectly round rings.

In the wake of powerful magic, where crumbling hands touched and wove space, the sounds of the hungry fire eating and feasting died to a quiet murmur as if in awe, as if they dared not disturb the one they were devouring, realizing for the first time that they had dared to bite a once-god.

For a brief moment, it was quiet. Not silent, but the quietest they could remember it ever being.

They almost wished they could have basked in it.

Time was not kind enough to grant such a luxury to them.

  All too quickly, it was over. The roaring and bubbling returned, angry that they had been silenced by their prey, but the prey did not stop. The bands converged at the center, the rings too tight together to be distinguishable from one another. What used to be a soft glow turned into a blinding light, so bright it lost its color, the edges bleeding into the flames, where it ended and the heat began almost impossible to tell, if not for the faint blue halation it still emitted. An eruption of raw magical energy burst forth from it, the immense wave of power briefly flattening the hellfire around them to their roots, but it wasn’t enough to smother them. It would never be enough. 

They knew that. 

They had to focus on the plan.

Pop!

Their magic exploded, ears ringing with that high-pitched deafening whine. Silence followed. True silence. Frightening silence. The magic had created a vacuum through which no sound could travel. 

The flames still burned. It needed no physical fuel.

They never realized how loud their body was. The sound traveled through their bones– their skin, muscles, bones, organs, all being scorched and turned to ash before regenerating, only to burn once more– An awful bubbling and gurgling traveling through whatever solids of themself remained attached, finding a path to their ears as if the waves were compelled to remind them they were in wretched anguish as their blood boiled and cooked their flesh from the inside out until it too liquified into a thick, molasses-like sludge, sloughing off whatever parts of them reformed into solids. The muck always burned to nothing before it hit the bottom of the pit, only the putrid odor left behind to prove it had existed.

A rush of smoke flooded in to fill the emptiness they had created, but grey could not penetrate the soft mist that swirled and stretched in front of them as if it were a toy a child was gleefully playing with. It tugged unnaturally in different ways, distorting its shape, its texture changing with each tug, before the center fell inwards to an empty blackness as dark and desolate as the void, a pitch abyss they could stare into in hopes of finding something to stare back. Through the emptiness of the portal they could see nothing, but they could feel it–something they had almost forgotten. Deep, deep down, far, far in they sensed the old energy of a place they once called a home. A realm they had not visited since before the blood war began. A place where he had no influence. A place he didn’t know of. A place that has since lost all but the faintest traces of magic.

This was their only chance. Nerves flickering, they sent out their consciousness, their mind traveling through the inter-planar channel. They had to be quick; they did not know how long they could keep a channel traversing the phlogiston open, or how long they had before he noticed,if he was even paying attention at all. Either way, they had to be quick. 

They knew when they arrived. They could feel it when their consciousness passed through the crystal sphere; the sudden lethargy assured them they had entered the realm devoid of magic. They allowed themself to feel relief. They deserved as much. Then there were the muffled voices. Quiet, speaking in words they could not understand. Then more and more, innumerous voices speaking in a cacophony of unintelligible words. So many voices to the point it sounded like static–so much louder than they remembered.

Then, through it all, a single melody, crystal clear, resounded. A melody unlike anything they’d heard before. 

And so, they listened.

It was an indulgence they should not have been able to afford, but it was music that they could feel despite their incorporeal form, as if it were a balm applied to the etches on their soul and they could not bring themself to pull away.

They cast a tether out. The line stuck. They had an anchor.

...

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