Avernus, Seven Years Before the Nautiloid


Ensconced in her elegant office, Mizora added the finishing touches to the contract destined for young Wyll Ravengard. True, he hadn't accepted or even received her offer yet, but that was hardly an obstacle; the little lordling was an open book. A few cultists here, a city in peril there, and her newest pet would fit the leash himself.

Speaking of…

'Clause G § 9: 'Targets shall be limited to the infernal, the demonic, the heartless, and the soulless.'

Mizora smirked. One hardly had to be a lawyer to see the loopholes in that clause. With a little ingenuity, she'd be able to send her pup after nearly anyone at all. She added more, touching on the details of Wyll's service, ones that she hardly need reveal to him. And finally, since would-be hero types tended to suffer from delusions:

'Clause Z § 13: 'Should the promised soul refuse obeyance or neglect duty, the pact-holder shall cast the promised as a…'

For the first time, Mizora paused. How did one spell 'lemure'? It was like 'villain'. No matter how many times you wrote it out, you always found yourself spelling it wrong. She scratched out the first part: l-e-m-u-r, then snarled and cast around for a spare scrap of parchment on which to write her options out. After all, it would hardly do to doodle in the margins of a contract. She'd never live down the unprofessionalism. Finding no parchment near at hand, she rolled her eyes and went to retrieve her infernal dictionary from a nearby shelf.

"Mizora!" Zariel rarely bellowed; the novelty of it stopped Mizora in her tracks.

Well, it would not do to keep the archfiend waiting. Gathering up her dignity, Mizora waved her hand at the contract to dry the ink, snatched it up, and stowed it down the neck of her low-cut gown. She could always revisit it later.


The Mindflayer Colony, Present Day (In which the author uses dialogue from the game, and Astarion rolls a Nat 1).


"Mizora?" Wyll said, sounding stunned. "You're Zariel's asset?"

Mizora sneered. "My dumb little stinker. Took you long enough." She turned up her nose, though the show of pique didn't quite mask her relief. "Now, by Graz'zt's cock, get me out of this thing."

Wyll's face hardened in disgust. For a moment, he looked like the uncompromising monster hunter Astarion had feared when they'd first joined forces: someone who would stake first and ask questions later. True, that side was rarely seen these days, but Astarion knew all too well how masters could bring out the worst in you. "I'll do it," the Blade of Frontiers said coldly, "– and you'll set me free. THAT was the deal."

"Yeah. Yeah. So get to it already."

At Wyll's nod, Astarion moved forward to examine the panel. There were illithid symbols inscribed on both sets of controls, one presumably to open the pod and the other to…transform you into a mind flayer? Astarion hadn't had the chance to examine a pod on the nautiloid before a lurch of the ship had thrown him free. Ah well, it should be easy enough…he looked at the symbols, waiting for them to swim into focus.

The symbols did not swim into focus. Subtly, Astarion swiped a hand over his eyes, hoping it was just grit or blood obscuring his vision, but no. He could see the symbols, even trace them in his head, but their meaning eluded him.

"Problem, Fangs?" Karlach asked.

"No, no problem." Ah well. Mizora hadn't exactly stipulated that she had to stay a devil if they wanted her to release Wyll, and it's not like being a mind flayer would kill her. Picking at random, Astarion reached out with the tadpole for the leftmost control. It moved easily under his mental command.

"Hells," Wyll said, uncoiling from his sullen slump. "What are you – no! If Mizora dies…"

Shit.

"Wyll?" Mizora said shrilly. "Wyll?" Before any of them could attempt to break her free, the cambion's body twitched and went limp.

At the same time, Wyll cried out in pain. "Shit, no! Please, no!" Infernal fire blazed around him. The whole group shielded their eyes…

When the fire faded, a monkey-like creature with black and white fur sat blinking at them all.


Author's Note: A bit of backstory to this fic: I was explaining Wyll's predicament to a friend of mine and mispronounced "lemure" as "lemur." She was confused and then very amused…and I was inspired. Poor Wyll. Next up, find a potion of Speak with Animals! And Astarion should prepare himself to find holes in his socks…