"I see danger, you're invited
We're in trouble, but don't hide it
It's a disaster party
Runnin' through hell, might as well
Throw away all your money
They say it's our fate and we're too late
I know I know, that we're all pretending
This night is never ending
And if you need somebody

It's a disaster party..."

That evening, the Emerald Grove echoed with the sounds of merriment. Ale and wine flowed freely, though some were heard to say it tasted more like piss and vinegar. Entertainment was provided by Volo as well as several amateur bards of varying skill, though the guests' enjoyment of these performances increased in parallel with their level of inebriation. Tiefling children played tag and hide-and-seek in the bushes, taking a respite from pretending to be miniature adults.

In general, everyone was just glad to be alive. The tieflings in particular were celebrating the fact that they now had a fighting chance of getting to Baldur's Gate in one piece without meeting angry goblins on the road. Even a few of the less uptight druids joined in on the celebration.

Del found himself watching the revelry from afar as if observing the fascinating habits of animals in the wild. There had been precious little to celebrate back at home. Illithids felt no need to mark successes or major life events, and his fellow thralls didn't exactly have the reason nor the resources to put on a shindig.

Del didn't really know what to do with himself or who to talk to, so he wandered around with a drink in his hand, periodically taking sips of the wine that Astarion complained about but he found to be the best he'd ever tasted. He traded words with the tieflings here and there, who were impressed with his exploits at the goblin camp and wanted to know how he'd gotten all his scars. But Del's answers must have been less than satisfactory, because these admirers quickly got bored of him and drifted away. The other members of his group seemed to be having better luck at making connections, both social and otherwise.

Astarion had women and even a few men practically lining up outside of his tent. Gale was talking to a young tiefling woman, making the animated hand gestures that showed he was likely explaining something about magic. Shadowheart and Lae'zel had disappeared somewhere - together? separately? - probably separately, knowing those two.

Even Karlach, though she couldn't touch anyone without hurting them, seemed to be having a grand old time playing with the children and demonstrating feats of strength. Del joined her for a while, but he didn't really know how to relate to kids. At least it was better than the mass mating ritual the rest of the party seemed to have become. He wasn't exactly a virgin nor a prude, but he'd never had to actually seek out and seduce a partner before, and so found the whole thing quite mystifying.

At one point, Karlach saw him looking as the others paired off. "Can't wait till Dammon fixes me," she muttered. "Engine's too hot to even think about that right now. C'mon, Del, what's your excuse?" She laughed as Del's cheeks flushed a dusky purple. "Oh, you're shy!" But the children distracted her again before she could pursue the matter any further.

As the night went on, Del found himself just wanting to be alone. The party was only getting louder and more overwhelming, and showed no signs of winding down anytime soon. So he walked - well, more like stumbled at this point, due to all the wine he had consumed - away from the clearing where the celebration was being held, and deeper into the woods at the periphery of the grove. He knew he was still within the walls, but the trees closed in around him surprisingly quickly.

Del sighed in relief as the sounds of revelry faded to a more manageable level. Out here, he could hear himself think again. Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted. The wind rustled through leaves. A fallen branch cracked loudly as someone stepped onto it...

Wait. What?

The fine hairs on the back of Del's neck were standing on end all of a sudden, and through the tadpole in his head he could feel someone projecting a sense of pure malice in his direction. The sensation washed over him like ice, making him shiver despite the warmth of the evening. Whoever was hiding in the trees wanted to do him some serious harm. Must be a True Soul then, or, gods forbid, one of his own companions... But where was the threat coming from?

Del was clumsy, slowed by the alcohol. He didn't even have time to do a full scan of his surroundings before a figure peeled away from the shadows and leapt onto his back. Del reeled, trying to dislodge his attacker, but they clung fast, wrapping an arm around his neck and forcing him to the ground. As the two of them grappled in the dirt, Del rolled over onto his back and saw in the moonlight that his assailant was none other than Lae'zel.

"What are you doing?" he gasped, finally managing to break her chokehold enough to speak. The Githyanki ignored him, squinting at his face in the dim light. Del realized that this was the closest Lae'zel had ever been to him. She reached out and ran a hand roughly over his forehead and the side of his skull where his hair was cut short, then quickly restrained him once more, seeming satisfied by the results of her examination.

"As I thought," she said grimly. "Qualith. I know what you are, thrall. Killing you would be a mercy, so give me one good reason why I shouldn't end your miserable life right here. "

Del frantically tried to think of something to say, but his mind was as slow as his body right now. "Come on, Lae'zel," he said thickly. "We're on the same side. I hate the Absolute too!"

"You lie," Lae'zel hissed. "You've been with those cultists from the beginning. I heard from Shadowheart what happened with the ghaik on the beach, and I saw how eager you were today to embrace the tadpole's powers." Lae'zel put her sword, which up until now had been strapped to her back, up to Del's throat. "What, besides your useless promises, is stopping you from betraying us to the Absolute when the time is right?"

Del tried to shake her off and get to his feet, but had to abort the movement when the blade bit into his skin. "The beach wasn't my fault, it made me do that. And the tadpoles will help us be stronger, fight better. Like the dream visitor said!"

On the last word, he twisted his body sharply and Lae'zel's balance shifted just enough for him to slip past the sword and jump to his feet.

Lae'zel reacted instantly, springing up and menacing him with her blade again. "Tell me this, ghaik -lover. If it came between killing your masters or us, which would you choose?"

"My master's already dead..."

"Answer the question."

"I... I can't," Del tried to shape the words that would end this unfortunate confrontation, but his tongue wouldn't obey. Whether it was true or not, he couldn't seem to say that he would kill Eldriss instead of his new companions.

"That's what I thought," Lae'zel said grimly. "I'm done with you, and with those who would shelter such an abomination in our midst. I'm going to the créche with or without them, and certainly without you."

The surge of adrenaline that followed allowed Del to dodge the Githyanki's first real blow. He was finally starting to sober up, but it was too little, too late. God-brain damn it, where had he left his weapon? Why hadn't he brought it out here with him instead of that damn bottle of wine?

Lae'zel's next attack drove Del backwards, further away from the light and promise of salvation of the party. Oh... the party! Maybe someone there could help him, or at least bring him a weapon...

"Hey!" he called out. "Guys, help! Lae'zel is- " He got no further before she was on him again.

"Stop this!" Del yelled, trying to channel the tadpole's powers as he had done with the goblins earlier. "Stop trying to kill me, damn it!"

Lae'zel shook her head like a dog, some combination of rage and the presence of her own tadpole allowing her to shrug off the psionic command behind his words. Come to think of it, the goblin guard Del had influenced hadn't been infected himself, only branded... Maybe that was what had allowed the force of authority to work so well...

Drunk as he still was, Del couldn't think and coordinate his movements at the same time. Lae'zel swung at him again, and this time he tripped over a tree root as he ducked away from her sword.

The next thing Del knew, he was flat on his back in the leaves with Lae'zel straddling him. "Now, slave," she hissed. "Join your master in death."

From there, everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Her arm descended, the sword arcing toward him. Del focused on the tadpole again, this time trying to telekinetically fling Lae'zel away from him since she had trapped his arms. He felt a sharp pain at his throat, then pressure as the blade bit into his skin. Suddenly Lae'zel was flying away from him, thrown backwards by an invisible force greater than Del thought he could muster... The tadpole powers had saved him!

Lae'zel slammed backwards into a tree and lay still for a moment, the wind knocked out of her.

Del scrambled up to his hands and knees, carried by the adrenaline of the fight and ready to continue it if needed, not realizing that it was already over. Lae'zel sat up too, wheezing, and clamped a hand to her forehead as if in pain.

But Del had no time to figure out what was ailing his would-be killer. As his mind caught up with his body, he realized that a warm wetness was soaking into the front of his shirt and dripping down onto his arms. He'd been just a second too slow in mastering his new psionic powers, and Lae'zel had managed to cut him badly after all.

He pressed a hand to his neck to slow the bleeding, then stood up on legs that were already beginning to feel weak and shaky. After just a few steps he grew dizzy and had to lean against the trunk of a nearby tree. The muted sounds of celebration from camp may as well have been coming from another planet for all the good they did him.

Del tried to yell for help again, but blood bubbled up from his mouth instead of words. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to make a sound or even draw a proper breath. And his death-grip on his own neck was loosening, his hand falling away as his blood stained the ground unimpeded.

Lae'zel was back on her feet too, but rather than attacking again she was scrambling back away from him, suddenly looking as if she had seen a ghost. Was this some terribly belated show of remorse? But no, she looked terrified, staring at something just beyond Del's left shoulder. The Githyanki backpedaled frantically, shooting one last glance at whatever it was that only she could see, and then turned and ran as if a devil was hot on her tail.

Del watched her go, the edges of his vision blurring. His legs trembled, and he slid down the trunk of the tree, no longer able to stay standing even with its aid. Somehow he found himself lying fully on the ground, s taring sideways at a beetle climbing a twig. It all seemed far off now; distant, but strangely beautiful. Even the growing puddle of blood beside him shone silver in the moonlight.

Del's eyelids slid shut as he thought, Eldriss, forgive me. I'm coming to meet you.

Author's Note: Sorry to leave y'all on a cliffhanger like this, but luckily I have this written through Chapter 10 and am posting pretty much daily until I reach the end of my backlog. In the meantime, here are a few thoughts:

1. Withers is a bit too OP for this story, and does not exist here. Or rather, he does, but Ao forbid him to interfere quite as flagrantly and resurrect people left and right.

2. I've always thought, for someone who has been raised to hate mind flayers her whole life, Lae'zel is a bit too forgiving of us as the player absorbing tadpoles left and right. Sure she doesn't want to do it herself, but shouldn't it bother her even more than it already does? The thrall thing for my character just pushed her fully over the edge.

3. I debated having Del romance one of the companions at the party, but apparently instead of love I chose violence :P