Shortly after freeing Gale from his arcane prison, our little group continued down the path, away from the dead Goblins. We weren't sure we wanted to encounter whatever killed them just yet, and I could tell there were humanoid tracks belonging to something roughly the size of an average Elf or Half-Elf, and something as small as a Goblin, so either a Halfling or Gnome. Of course, I was right. There were nearby ruins, or rather a crypt, and a bunch of looters, grave robbers, mercenaries, whatever they were, looking for a way in.
I could hear them arguing over their next course of action. They didn't seem to be on the ship, the distinct smell of the Illithid did not mar their scent at all. The Gnome, Gimblebock as I came to know him, was accosting one of his companions over his cowardice of not wanting to go investigate the ship. When we reached them, he threatened us, and I simply loomed over him quietly until he realized I wasn't going to back down. When he stopped barking at me, I simply told him the only thing he owned was his life, and he understood that I could change that. He took his companions and ran off, leaving whatever they didn't value enough to chance picking up. Gale and Shadowheart gave me approving looks and Astarian made a snide remark about how he didn't think I had any real wits or cunning. I ignored him.
From there, we took what we needed and found our way into the crypt. I couldn't tell you for the life of me what I thought we were doing in here, but I didn't really think much about it since I was recalling, slowly, the awful side effects of our current affliction. Fighting the few grave robbers here didn't do much to distract me, even leading me to take a few more hits than necessary, until their sorcerer pegged me with a ray of frost spell. Been hit by those before. It ain't fun.
Moving through the crypt we found a bunch of books, and we stowed as much stuff as we could, in case we needed to barter for gold or services to get these parasites removed. I tried to distract myself with the architecture and plaques we came across, but none of it was decipherable or recognizable. Maybe a more seasoned scholar, or an Expositor, would know what this all was and be able to read the dead tongue, but I could not. Maybe I should have finished my tenure at the academy. I was, after all, almost done.
"Copper for your thoughts?" Gale's curious tone pulls me from my haze and I come to find that he and I are now standing in the big chamber, where moments prior we finished dismantling undead scribes. What they were protecting down here, we aren't sure. I barely am focused on our current progress as is. Astarion and Shadowheart seem to have gone off to search for anything of use or value.
"Where are they?"
"So you weren't paying attention." I turn to Gale and grab him by his robes. I can smell them, but something about this place is blocking my senses to pinpoint where they are.
"Where. Are. They. Especially, Astarion." Gale looks at me slightly alarmed, before pointing his finger towards a hole in the wall to my right, where I can see a cave with sunlight shining through.
"The posh Rogue went that way." He then switches to the opposite direction, pointing to a door. "Our Dark Cleric went through there." I relax, hearing that they aren't alone together. No telling what that blood sucker would do. "Mind if I ask why you seem to be hostile towards him? Don't tell me you're racist." I let go of Gale, and shake my head.
"Nothing so pedestrian, I assure you. It's just that when we first met, he was trying to ambush us. Held a blade to my throat."
"Could have been a simple misunderstanding."
"No. I know what a predator looks like. How they move. How they talk. I didn't survive in the wild on my own by accident. I may have trained and studied at the Reserve, but I was raised in the wild before I ever stepped foot in Emon. Hell I was born in the woods." My memories of those days creep in little by little. A sad anxiety rolls over my person as Gale smiles.
"So you spent most of your life in the wild, yet you speak like a well educated scholar. It's an odd combination. An interesting, combination. Especially since you are neither a Druid nor a Ranger. A wild born boy trained in the ways of a Cobalt Monk, and educated by the Cobalt Soul themselves. Fascinating." A knee jerk reaction kicks in at his words and I growl under my breath.
"I am not an experiment to be studied." Gale takes a step back in surprise and raises his hands in surrender.
"I meant no such thing by my words. I have the utmost respect and appreciation for the life you must have lived so far. Especially since it is one that I do not think I could have lived myself." I search his eyes for the truth. Is he just backing off in fear, or is he genuine? For now, at least, it appears as though that he clearly didn't mean to insult me, or maybe I'm just hoping he didn't. Either way, I decide to change the subject. Back to what I was initially thinking about.
"Ceremorphosis." I mutter.
"Excuse me?" He asks, looking a little baffled.
"It's been awhile since I've read the limited texts we have on Illithid. I'm... vaguely remembering the side effects... the first of which worrying me most." Gale catches the hint that we should change topics and plays along.
"Because you think it's already effecting your memory." I slouch my shoulders, being reminded of the times one of my mentors would read me like a book at the Reserve, as if I was incapable of any private feelings or thoughts. This was supposed to take my mind off of that time. Not keep me there.
"Shall I recap for you? To confirm whether or not you have forgotten your studies on the subject?"
"That... will be appreciated. Regardless of the results. I should know what to expect ahead." He nods as he begins to gesture with his hands.
"Day one; Fever and memory loss. Day two; hallucinations and greying skin. Day three: hair loss and blood leaking from all orifices. Day four..."
"...excruciating pain as the skeleton and organs reform and reposition. Day five; host's personality disappears. Fingers, toes, and limbs elongate... I'm somewhat familiar with this." Gale hums in mild surprise and interest.
"Oh? Have you seen this before?" Oh shit.
"No. I have- um... never mind." Idiot Alaric. So hung up moping about my childhood and our current condition, that I almost spill my guts to him. I'm getting sloppy.
"I will, for now. I can respect privacy. I'm sure it will come up again, when the time is right."
"I doubt it." Gale seems to slump a bit at that. There was a hint of something there I didn't recognize. He seemed to be searching for something, but at my rejection, he became dejected. "Um, do you mind continuing. I find it comforting to know there is somebody with knowledge about our condition. Even if that knowledge isn't useful in stopping the transformation." He raises his head slightly and gives me a quizzical look.
"You are an odd one, Alaric. But, I will oblige. Day six; the flesh around the mouth splits open to make way for tentacles. Day seven; a new Mind Flayer is born. This is the annotated version of course."
"That version was vivid enough. Thank you Gale." He nods, unsure of what to make of our exchange. I may have just unwittingly made him uncomfortable around me. I have a habit of doing that, or so I'm told. Sometimes it's intentional, but this time wasn't. Perhaps it is for the best. There is no point in getting attached to them.
"Look at what I found?" Shadowheart's voice reaches us as she emerges from the open door Gale had pointed to earlier. In her hands are a sizable book, or a tome, with a lock on it, and a black coin with an almost arcane energy coming off of it. It has the same smell that I could smell constantly while in Avernus.
"Careful with that." I point to the coin.
"Why?"
"It reminds me of something I read in a book at the Reserve. Might be Infernal in nature." She looks at it with a slight fear and looks back to me.
"What should I do?" I extend my hand, wanting to inspect it more closely. She gives it to me, though she hesitates in letting go.
"Are you sure?" I simply nod my head, and she reluctantly lets go.
"It's warm." Besides it's heat, I can feel that there is more to this coin then being from the Hells. Whatever it is, it's likely worth something to Devils. Maybe I can use that to our advantage in this quest to get rid of these tadpoles. Physically, the coin is simply black with some unfamiliar relief that I can't really make out, and a red hue to it. The image on the coin almost looks like... faces? I'm not sure.
"What do you make of this?" I point to the book in Shadowheart's other hand. She raises it up to show Gale, and his face lights up.
"That looks to have some kind of arcane lock." The Cleric nods to our Wizards conclusion.
"Not just magic. Something, divine. It's a lot lighter than it should be considering the size of the lock."
"Should we open it?" I ask.
"Open what?" Turning around, we face the now returned Astarion. Having been gone longer than the rest of us, I wonder just exactly what he was doing. He seems to read my mind however, and answers before I can question him.
"Before you ask, I was looking for an alternate exit. Figuring out if we can avoid back tracking when done here. Seeing as how time is of the essence. What's that?" He points to the book without waiting for a reply, or any further questioning of his success in what he claims to have set out to do. I will be investigating later.
"Magic book. We're debating opening it." Gale states.
"Why bother debating whether or not to have fun, when you can just have fun?" Astarion questions.
"It could be a trap. What if we open it and it sucks us into another Plane?" Gale pipes up.
"I don't think you'll have two mishaps with portals in one day Gale." Shadowheart jokes.
"You never know with portals. I find them unreliable." I state. Gale snorts.
"You either had the worst magic user to date, or a con artist played you, if you think that portals are normally 'unreliable'."
"What makes you so sure?" I challenge. Gale smirks and rises to the occasion.
"Uh, studied in the Soltryce Academy? Was a favoured student of Mystra?"
"Mystra? As in Corellon's, lover?" Gale shook his head.
"On the contrary, that's a common misunderstanding. Mystra is the second incarnation of the Goddess of Magic, Mystryl. Mystryl was Corellon's lover. Until Mystryl was destroyed, sacrificing herself to protect the Weave from the Calamity. Mystra, though another incarnation of the same god, was different. She did not feel the same way for them, nor did they feel the same way for Mystra as they did Mystryl."
"Okay, semantics aside, you are talking about The Mother of All Magic." He nods. "How did you, of all people, fail so spectacularly with that portal then?" Gale suddenly begins shuffling in place and lifts his hand to scratch his head.
"Well, um, you know the tadpole has messed with my connection. So, I am not as powerful as I once was. Believe you me, I used to be able to walk across planes with ease." He's lying. I don't know what about exactly, but I can read it on him clear as day. I decide for now to drop it, as he did for me earlier.
"Fair enough. We are all feeling a bit... different, since our infection." I look pointedly at the blood sucker that can now walk in broad daylight without so much as a sun burn. He just smirks at me. His smug expression gives me the urge to smash his skull into a pillar until either his skull collapses or the pillar does.
"I'm going to open it. Mainly out of boredom." Raising her hand, Shadowheart prays quietly to what I can only make out to be her 'Mistress', not giving me enough to work with on figuring out what deity she has aligned herself with.
It takes but a moment before the lock glows brightly with violet light and unclasps itself from the book. The book in question flies open to a specific page, and Shadowheart is brimming with excitement and wonder. She looks up and waves me over, before beckoning Gale and Astarion.
"You can just read it to me if you like. I don't need to huddle up with you sweaty people." Astarion's snobby remark is careless. As a Vampire, the bastard doesn't sweat. That could be a good indication that he isn't normal. Nobody seems to pick up on it however, seeing as how they are more focused on the book.
Refocusing my attention, the three of us study the script in the book and it's clear that it's an old language, but not too old that I can't read it. Odd, however, for I don't recognize the language.
"It's a list of names. Strange ones at that." As soon as the words leave my mouth both Gale and Shadowheart look at me.
"You can read this?" the Half-Elf woman asks.
"What language is it even?" Gale asks more enthusiastically. I look at both of them confused.
"I don't know. I thought the magic of the book made it possible to read. You guys can't read it?" They both shake their heads.
"I can read a word here and there, but nothing really makes sense." Shadowheart's statement has me baffled. Of the three of us, they should be more capable of deciphering this book, or having some kind of connection through magic or divinity to read it.
"Maybe the book chooses who gets to read it? You unlocked it, so you have some ability-"
"-but why then does Alaric have a full understanding of the language?"
"Maybe it's something to do with Ioun. He does work for the Cobalt Soul."
"Actually, I never officially was inducted. I left Emon during the attack of the Chroma Conclave on the day they took Emon. I escaped through the tree in Greyskull Keep that Keyleth from Vox Machina had opened for any survivors. We escaped to Whitestone. From there, I left civilization, and became a vagabond ever since. I've barely had any correspondence with the Order, much less physical contact."
"Still, the Knowing Mistress may have chosen you for something without your knowledge of it. Maybe you leaving early meant you never learned of that." Gale's explanation actually had me laugh.
"That is absolutely absurd. I don't even worship her. I only say some of the common phrases common among her faithful because I was raised for a few years under strict tutelage. I don't hate her or anything, I just don't care." Gale places his hand over his beard and begins to stroke it as he stares off into space.
"It still might be the best explanation. Oh, do you want to read it now Astarion? I can make room." I turn to look to see Astarion has moved right next to us, the slippery bastards silent movement giving me anxiety that I won't be able to hear him coming should he turn on us. He will turn on us, I know it. I just want to know exactly when that will happen.
"Sure, why not. This has piqued my interest." He is looking at me intently. His smirk is still there, but his eyes hold something beyond his smug and teasing demeanour.
Shadowheart turns the book to face him, and he breaks his gaze from mine as he looks down at the pages. He studies them for a moment. His eyes are scanning every word. Before he turns towards me with a knowing look. He just figured something out. What?
"Can you read it?" He continues to stare at me for a moment. It makes me entirely uncomfortable. My teeth are grinding against each other again and I'm threatening to jump this pompous, bipedal, parasite.
"Nope. Seems that the alpha of the pack, is the chosen one." I hate this snarky prick.
"You do realize that only creatures in captivity exhibit such traits." Gale posited.
"Given he's a pompous whore-son, I'd imagine he regularly resides behind city walls. So of course he thinks that way. A pathetic animal in captivity." Astarion hisses at me in annoyance and I snarl at him. Shadowheart walks in between us and pushes the book into my chest, causing me to lift my hands and catch it before she lets go and places her hands up between us.
"You two need to cut this out, now. We won't survive long if we keep wasting time on your squabbling."
"Keep the mutt on a short leash, and maybe we'll be better off."
"I'll show you a mutt."
"SILENCE!" Flames come to life in the dead braziers hanging from the ceiling and the candelabras, spread across the room, as Gale's voice sounds like a stone Giant's, encompassing the room entirely. "WE are a- oh hold on." Gale waves his hands a round a few times before speaking a word. "That's better. Now, are we quite finished getting on each other's last nerve?" He looks between Astarion and I with a disapproving look, before he turns back to me. The look in his eyes is one I recognize. From the last group that tried to make me their leader. Shadowheart has that same look.
I avert my gaze, unable to meet theirs. There is no way I can be their actual leader. Sure I can lead the way while trekking through the woods and keeping an eye out for traps or ambushes, but an honest to the gods leader? No... wait. Gods?
"There are names here I don't recognize. Lathander, Tyr, Cyric, Araushnee, Eilistraee and so on."
"Who else? I think I recognize some of these names." Gale pipes up.
"Same. Pretty sure Araushnee is the name the Drow used to use for Lolth." Shadowheart states. Gale nods.
"I believe Eilistraee was her daughter. A goddess for Drow who wished to be more than just a Matriarchy of sadistic tyrants."
"Was?" I asked.
"Pretty sure she's dead. Mystra wasn't one to give away the secrets of her fellow gods so easily. So, that's all I know." Gale's recollection isn't wrong. In the Cobalt Reserve, there are a few pieces of literature found in the Underdark written in Undercommon, speaking of salvation and freedom from The Spider Queen. Freedom, brought by one known as 'The Dark Maiden', of which is named in some writings as Eilistraee.
"Bhaal, Myrkul, Silvanus, Labelas Enoreth. I think I recognize Silvanus and Bhaal from somewhere, but I'm not sure where."
"Silvanus... doesn't ring any bells." Gale pipes up. Shadowheart shrugs, also unsure.
"So, is this just a book of gods? Is one of them resting here? Is that guy over there a depiction of one?" Astarion fires off questions without a care in the world and I turn to look at the statue in the middle of the room. Now that I am looking more closely, a sudden surge of curiosity rushes through me and I believe I recognize the depiction.
Looking down at the book, I find his name almost instantly. The tome seemed to be feeding me the info I specifically sought out, while giving me a random assortment of names when just idly observing it. How strange. It was useful, however, in the sense that I don't have to thumb through pages to find what I'm looking for.
"No. I actually think The Cobalt Reserve has exactly one text on this one. His name is Jergal. Scribe of The Dead." This gives me an idea. Just as I think it, her name appears before me. "Mystryl. But... no sign of Mystra."
"Of course!" Gale snaps his fingers. "If he's a scribe of the dead-"
"-than these are the names of dead gods." I finish, causing Gale to beam in amusement.
"Hold on? How does that make sense? If Jergal is dead, wouldn't that mean this book would stop working?"
"Not necessarily. Think about what happened to Mystryl. Destroyed during the age of Arcanuum, yet the Weave remained. From it, she reformed into a new goddess. Mystra. These names represent entire pantheons that have come and gone. Largely forgotten to the dregs of time." Gale's explanation is sound. Though arguments could be made that Mystra was a special case given she is attached to the Weave itself.
"I'm not as much of a religious nut as the two of you, nor am I a knowledge hungry wizard, but I am not unaware of our alleged... beginnings, at the hands of the Creator Gods. If what you're saying is true, and that piece of arcane parchment is an actual record of divine history, wouldn't that mean our creation myth is just that?" Astarion's point is not unwarranted. Nobody knows for certain if the stories of how we came to be are true and how much is embellished, if not out right lies. The Age of Arcanuum, the time before the Calamity, is even lost to us. Few pieces of history, in the form of ancient beings, ruins, and artifacts, remain the only links we have to the time over millennia past.
"Nobody knows for sure. It's all just faith." Shadowheart says.
"I'm afraid I'm fresh out of that. I prefer something more tangible." Astarion remarks. "With that said, I'd rather not let the wriggling monster in my head transform me into a alien monster while discussing the powers at be."
"You and I agree, for once. Though an argument could be made that these pantheons existed along side the prime creators. They could have been all lesser gods. The Drow even have their own pantheon, with Lolth being the only Prime Deity, and the rest are lesser gods. But enough of this. As you said, we should continue." I close the book, and offer it to Shadowheart. She shakes her head, clearly no longer interested in the thing.
"You're the one that can read it. You hold on to it if you're so inclined to keep it. Don't know why you would though. Sounds like you believe in nothing, and only live to survive."
"Is there something wrong with that?" Shadowheart scoffs at me.
"Of course there is. It's not living. You may as well be an animal." Her words cut deep, but it is not the first time I have heard such a thing.
"Maybe I am one." Turning away from the group I walk away as memories flood my mind of the times I've been chased by hunters and mercenaries. I shake my head and wipe my eyes, trying to focus on the object in my hand to take my mind off the bad memories.
Looking down at The Book of Dead Gods for a moment, I contemplate whether or not I'd actually need it. It's a relic of a time long before our own, possibly before even the Age of Arcanuum. To the right people, it could be worth a fortune. It's definitely priceless. I don't, however, think something like this should be sold so carelessly, or at all. I could bring it to one of the Cobalt Archives. Maybe I should just keep it hidden from prying eyes. All I know for certain, is that I don't have it in me to leave the thing in this empty and forgotten crypt.
After placing the book in my bag, we looted what we could, but the place was making us uneasy, and there wasn't very much to be found. We all wanted out. Unfortunately, when I was checking a few vases off to the left of Jergal's monument, I noticed a button that was barely seen on the stone wall.
"Secret room. My gold is on secret room." I say to nobody in particular. Next to it, the wall actually does look to be shaped like a door, and I just shake my head in astonishment at how common it is for hidden passages to be obvious. Or maybe I'm just too used to exploring to not see the signs of secret doors and hidden paths.
"Let's see what's behind this door." I do not detect any traps, nor do I smell any evidence of something that would explode in my face, so I press the button. My instincts were right.
The section of wall slides back a few inches before sliding into the stone, revealing a hidden room. Inside, there is exactly one chest, a few vases scattered about, and a few stone benches that do not look comfortable for sitting and chatting with guests. Most notably however, is the large sarcophagus.
"A lot of effort to hide just one of these here." The room is dank and dark, barely lit by candles burning on the three steps the Sarcophagus sits upon. Despite the light, my eyes adjust to the darkness and I notice a strange green hue to the room. "Wonder if Jergal is here. What a treat that would be."
The sarcophagus itself is massive, with reliefs of curtains along the edge of the lid. On top of said lid is a relief of an androgynous humanoid in robes, laying peacefully on a pillow with their hands clasped over their chest. The air in the room is unsurprisingly musty, and I can only detect the slightest hint of something... other.
Walking over to the chest first, I find myself some gold, two Viridian crystals, and a necklace with a skull pendant. Though no energy is permeating from the object, I can tell that it is enchanted. I mean, I found it in this chest in this hidden room. There is no way that it isn't. Plus, it's made with real bone. Somebody carved this thing into this shape. I know that it takes a while to attune to enchanted items, so I throw the necklace on and continue to search the vases, which all turn out to be empty.
Hssssaaaaah
I snap my head back to the sarcophagus and find nothing has changed in the room. I look around and feel as if though a cold chill has come over me. I definitely heard that hissing sound. Where did it come from? Inside? Was it a psychic cry of the dead? Despite my alarm, my curiosity urges me forward.
I approach the stone resting place and set my hand against the lid. I barely make contact as the lid begins to slide backwards on it's own, and the candles around me begin to blaze with ethereal green flames. Taking a few steps back, I pull my sickles from my hips, preparing for battle, and yet I don't call to my companions. I find myself unable to. When I see a bony hand grasp the edge of the half opened lid, I briefly contemplate locking the entity and myself inside the room to protect Gale and Shadowheart. However, I did not move from my spot, unwilling to divert my attention for even a moment.
The hand shoves the lid off of it's stone container, and disappears below the coffins edge... before the withered corpse it belongs to floats out and over it's resting place, righting itself in the air. It's head lulls and I try to urge myself to attack immediately, but find myself incapable of doing so. My body refuses to listen to my commands. Am I terrified? Paralyzed by magic? The head of the corpse lifts itself up and it's eyes fly open. The fact there is any skin left on this thing had me wondering if it was a Lich. If it was a Lich, I'm screwed. If not. I have no idea what to do.
The thing raises it's arms and spreads them to it's sides as it floats towards me, before landing on the ground, and lowering it's arms.
"So he has spoken, and so thou standest before me. Right as always." It speaks with what sounds to be a mix of two voices, gravelly, and ancient. Yet it does not sound breathy and weakened as one would assume from a walking corpse. It's black eyes carry the faintest of light in it's darkened pools, leaving a mild glimmer as to indicate where it is looking. It seems to be studying me. I feel as if though I have no chance at destroying this thing even if my life depended on it. How fortunate then that it's body language does not read as hostile, but neutral.
I place my sickles back onto my hips, and keep my guard up despite my hunch of being horribly outmatched.
"What a curious way to awaken?" It speaks again. "Now, I have a question for thee."
"Hold on. You just levitated out of a sarcophagus hidden behind a secret door, and you have a question for me? I have a question for you? 'So he has spoken'. What 'he' are you referring to?" The entity before me does not react outwardly, and I can not read any facial expressions, for it doesn't truly have the muscles to make any. The fact it has a face at all and can talk is nothing short of a... no I'm not going to say that.
"An arbiter of certain matters. But that is not important now. Wilt thou answer my question?" He speaks low and clear. I am not certain if this entity is without personality, made to speak to any that find it and ask a question before granting a wish, or some such thing. It is determined to get an answer to it's question however, and I don't feel I'll get anywhere without answering.
"I suppose I can. Ask away."
"What is the worth of a single, mortal, life?" Not exactly what I was expecting, but quite frankly, it's fitting given that thing is clearly undead. I wonder if he is a previous worshipper of Jergal. Why would he be placed here though? What's his purpose?
I shake my head of my own questions and focus on his. The worth of a single mortal life. In my time, I've seen mortal lives thrown on a fire to be cooked for meals like they meant nothing. I was raised to think that way myself, but never felt truly right living by that standard. Maybe he's asking because he intends on taking mine, or the lives of those I brought with me. Or maybe this answer is tailored specifically to my existence. If this is Jergal himself, or an avatar, or a previous champion, or whatever, then it knows my sins, and knows how I'll die.
Thinking back to what Shadowheart said about being an animal, the memories associated with such an existence, and the gnawing hunger and rage I struggle with from within... I know my answer.
"From a young age I was made to hunt, stalk, and kill. I have taken countless lives. Many were deserving... and many were not. I'm an animal. A monster. So, my life seems to be worth little, for my blood calls for me to harm others. Regardless of who they are and what they've done." I find it hard to look away from the entity as I lament my existence. Shame stings me relentlessly, until my vision blurs. I feel this immense weight crushing me. I'm sure it will kill me now that it has it's answer. I'm bound to lose control again. Hurt somebody who doesn't deserve it. Even if they did, I will have no control.
How useless.
He is as silent as these abandoned ruins, and as unmoving as Jergal's statue. He stares at me in silence for longer than I'd like. I wish he'd just get it over with.
"A life, and how it is lived, are different equations. I also find it strange... humans tend to truly loath themselves, or their existence, when speaking in such low terms of their character. Perhaps, this will change one day." Not quite what I was expecting him to say. Though, I am uncertain now of what he wants from me. "Very well. I am satisfied."
What?
"That's it?"
"We have met, and I know thy face." I'm at a loss. What is he talking about?
"Uh, alright. What... what now?" Is he letting me go? Is he leaving? Did I just unle-
"We will see each other again at the proper time and place. Farewell."
"I... You... what?" He ignores my floundering for understanding and simply begins to step out of the crypt. I just watch him disappear behind the door as I hear an alarmed yelp come from the other side, followed by a dull thud.
Snapping out of my stupor, I realize none of the others know what I am doing, and somebody probably attacked that thing. I come flying out of the room only to see that Shadowheart is standing there dumbfounded, watching as the entity walks past her.
"It... it didn't even react to being hit. I mean... it's undead so maybe it has no feeling but... it felt like I hit a stone wall." Her gaze follows the undead as it moves into Jergal's chamber, the both of us just standing their dumbfounded. Gale looks over from a bench he decided to sit on and scrambles in shock, nearly falling to the floor at the sight of the undead entity that has entered the room. He picks up his staff in preparation for battle, but notices that we aren't attacking either. Looking between the two of us, and then the withered figure in the room, he turns his head back to the corner of the chamber.
"Uh, Astarion?"
"What is it, Gale? You find a rat?"
"Not... quite." Astarion steps from the shadows and peers around a pillar, clearly spotting the animated corpse, indicated by his raised eyebrows.
"Hmm? Why aren't we killing that thing?" At his question, Astarion creeps over to Gale, and Shadowheart and I follow suit.
"We can't." I reply.
"Did you even try? You're pretty strong. I'm sure you could snap this thing in half with your bare hands." I shake my head at Gale's suggestion.
"I hit it with my mace and it did nothing." Shadowheart whispers.
"Well you're mace isn't enchanted. Try casting some divine magic." Shadowheart shakes her head.
"Don't think that will help. Besides, I have a limited reserve. I don't want to exhaust my resources on something that likely can't be killed by us." Her reasoning is sound. We may need her to heal us or attack something more our speed later on.
"He isn't hostile. If you whacked him and he just walked past you, than we should leave him be." I state.
"That's a nice thought, Alaric, but what if he's some kind of evil entity about to unleash an undead horde on Tal'Dorei. He kind of reminds me of a Lich." Gale frantically adds.
"Fine, I'll go ask him what his intentions are, and then we are leaving." Stepping away from the group, I cautiously approach the undead as it has started to clean the crypt. Odd. He's a caretaker?
"We have nothing more to discuss. Continue on thy way, as if I were not here." He addresses me without even sparing me a glance. "I must attend to this place, after so many years away. We will see each other again soon."
"You seem pretty confident in that. Is it because you're going to do something bad, and you know we will try to stop you? Or is it something else?" He shakes his head so slowly I feel as if though my perception of the world has been inhibited by foreign substances. He turns slightly in my direction before answering.
"The mechanics of fate would be difficult to explain to one such as yourself. Regardless, it will occur." With that, he speaks no more, and refocuses his efforts on his current task. I stand there for a moment, considering the option of harassing him for an answer, but think better of it as I turn to head back to my companions.
"So, is he some evil Lich intent on ruling the world?" Gale's tone is less worried now and more curious.
"Gale. As a fellow man who finds mild joy in discovering the undiscovered, our curiosity will get us killed one day." Gale sheepishly grins in response to my statement. "I don't know what it's intentions are, but I think it's an undead worshipper of Jergal. Claims we'll meet again soon."
"How does he know that?"
"If you ask him he'll just attribute it to fate. He didn't feel very talkative otherwise."
"Can we leave now? This place is filthy and smells of rotting death. I'd rather not be here any longer." I snort in response to Astarion's complaint about the smell and he just sneers at me in response. I smirk as I turn to take point and find an exit.
"Alright. Let's get out of here."