Karlach Fails a Wisdom Roll
A smog choked battlefield was the closest thing in Avernus to night. This one looked to be about midnight. The corpses and the ruins told the story in the aftermath of the battle.
First there was the ruined infernal fortress on the banks of the Styx. Devils of Avernus had died in droves defending it against the invading demons of the Abyss. Their corpses, mangled, defiled and in some instances partially eaten, were thickest along the outer battlements facing out toward the Styx, the very battlements they had tried but failed to hold. Others of their bodies had been strung up by the conquering invaders and made to face inland, toward the direction of the Infernal counterattack.
That was the story that the next sets of bodies told. The Infernals had arrived to take back their river fortress. A multitude of corpses, many of them locked together in their final melees, littered the plateau in front of the fortress. The greatest portion of the demons had not hidden behind battlements but instead met the devils in open combat.
The imps had met the Abyssal invaders first, veritable clouds of the weak but numerous creatures descending upon them. Easily swatted and squashed but only a distraction from the merregon and barbazu foot soldiers that followed, and there the balance turned, with progressively more demon corpses and fewer devil, even imp, corpses marking the success of the advancing counterattack.
The final outcome was made all the more obvious in that the flying fortress, the blade shaped ship that had borne the Infernal counterattack to the battle, still hovered over the scene of the slaughter while the body of the enormous monster that had borne the Abyssal invaders, a many tentacled beast, with various platforms that had been secured to the spines on its back, was sprawled dead atop the ruined fortress, its internal organs spilled out of massive wounds in its side.
The erinyes, an ivory skinned figure clad in black armor damascened ruby red, descended from the flying fortress's command deck on wings that might have been mistaken for angelic. The Infernal forces, which had been busy ensuring that all of the demonic invaders scattered across the battlefield were indeed dead, knelt or bowed at their commander's approach. With one exception.
"Commander Anzaxes!" Karlach greeted the erinyes cheerfully, "So good of you to join us, now that the fighting's over and done. I hope you didn't break a nail on the command throne or strain your voice yelling, did you?"
The erinyes glowered at Karlach as she set foot on the ground. "Do you seek to draw my wrath with your impudence?"
"I apologize, my ladyship," said Karlach. She leaned on her axe and curtsied before shooting a broad smile that was all teeth at the erinyes.
The erinyes addressed the devils under her command. "Carry on. Find and kill any remaining demons." She turned her head directly to Karlach. "See to it the task is completed, sergeant . Once that is done get the bodies out of the way. Especially that one," she pointed to the body of the colossal beast that had died astride the fortress. "The engineers will need it out of the way in order to return the fortress to operation."
"Not that it did much good the first time around," said Karlach.
"It is not your place to question."
"Nor yours?"
The erinyes glared.
"When do we get paid?"
"You will receive your payment once you return to the Bronze Citadel. Which you will not do until after Commander Tenchlk has arrived here to relieve you."
"And you will be?"
"Taking the flying fortress with the rest of the contingent to the next incursion site. This is not the only one."
"No, of course not. Another glorious day in the Blood War."
"Does your resolve weaken, mortal?" the Erinyes sneered.
"Do you want to test it?" Karlach's lips curled into a sneer of her own.
"You invite death at every opportunity. A pity for us both that it continues to elude you."
"So why not hasten it?" challenged Karlach, taking a few steps toward Anzaxes, arms spread invitingly.
"I am aware of the terms of your pact, tiefling," said the erinyes, levelly, "I will not be goaded into striking first. Nor would I stoop to profane my blade with your blood. You are not even a halfbreed. You have your orders. Get on with it."
Karlach glared daggers at the erinyes' back as she took flight to return to her flying fortress. A series of horn blasts issued from the blade shaped ship soon after and the imps returned to it en masse as it turned and set off for its next battle.
"Oi! They're leaving us here?" asked a barbazu, a roughly humanoid looking devil except for its orange skin, tail and thick beard of barbed tentacles.
Several of the other barbazu looked in Karlach's direction, listening for an answer. The merregon needed no such answers and kept on about their work, hacking to pieces any demon that seemed as if it might be even vaguely alive.
"You know what you need to," said Karlach, "Spread out. Make sure all the demons are dead. Once that's done we're clearing bodies."
Karlach had turned to get to work when she felt the barbazu's hand on her arm. "Wait a-" was as far as the barbazu got before Karlach had turned on him, snatched the heavy bladed knife from his belt, opened him up from navel to neck then kicked him away before he could lash out with his beard of barbed tentacles. The barbazu landed on his ass, and was holding an armful of his intestines with a shocked look on his face when a single blow from Karlach's axe separated his head from his shoulders.
"Some of you are new," Karlach addressed the onlooking barbazu, meanwhile the merregon amongst the troop hadn't been distracted for a moment. "Consider this your one and only warning: never touch me. Now get to it before there's even less of you to split the work."
Karlach joined the effort searching through the mounds of corpses and putting an end to any survivors. She didn't expend a great deal of thought wondering if the creatures to which she was delivering death were devil or demon. Her hatred for both had only grown since her return to Zariel's service.
Still, she couldn't help but smile sometimes. The bargain had gotten Raphane safely out of the hells and, while Avernus was still a thoroughly miserable shithole, it at least afforded her innumerable opportunities to kill assholes, even if the heads she most wanted to chop were out of her reach.
Karlach cursed her reverie when something grabbed her ankle. Her gaze snapped down to see a mouth ringed with eyes at the end of a tentacle that had wrapped around her ankle. The eye-ringed mouth was staring up at her. The eyes glowed orange as Karlach stared back, great axe held in readiness to descend on the abomination.
It spoke, saying two words only in a quiet but insistent voice: "Fight it."
Karlach closed her eyes tightly as a sudden throbbing headache took hold of her.
Karlach opened her eyes, blinked sleepily at the bright light that poured in through the tall windows, pushed back the silk sheets and disentangled herself from the canopied bed. The plush accommodations were utterly unfamiliar. "Where am I?" she asked and started to cross toward the windows, paused to look down at herself, finding a long night gown clinging to her body. "So not me," she murmured.
"Really? I think it quite becomes you, duchess," said a voice coming from the bed.
Karlach gasped and whirled around to face the canopied bed to see a familiar horned face looking back at her. "Wyll?" she exclaimed.
"Oh, no," said Wyll. Climbing out of the bed and moving toward Karlach. "Is it the memory troubles, dear?"
"Memory troubles? What? What's going on?" asked Karlach while backing away from Wyll.
"It's okay, dear," he said, stopping where he stood, hands spread disarmingly.
"Why do you keep calling me that?" asked Karlach, "Why were we sharing a bed? And-and-duchess?" Her mouth hung open as the pieces snapped together into an all-too-obvious puzzle. There was a small sitting area by the tall windows. Karlach sank down onto one of the couches. "We're married?" she asked, her brow creased with disbelief.
Wyll nodded. Crouching down in front of Karlach. "Three years ago."
"Three years?" more disbelief. Karlach looked around at the opulent suite, "And you're grand duke now I suppose."
"Only half of one," said Wyll gratefully. He took one of Karlach's hands and kissed it. "Wouldn't be much of a grand duke without my grand duchess." He smiled at Karlach. She permitted the gesture, gave a fragile smile in return.
"This is a lot," said Karlach, her eyes flitting just about everywhere in the grand bedchamber except Wyll's face. Her engine was spinning fast.
"You're wondering about Raphane," said Wyll, his tone sympathetic.
That made Karlach look into Wyll's eyes, one white, one crimson. "Yes," she said, cautiously.
"Let's talk outside," said Wyll. "It's a beautiful morning."
Karlach followed Wyll out onto the balcony. The sun was already rising high over Baldur's Gate. She had never expected to see the entire city below her like this. Of course, she had seen the view once before during the battle against the Netherbrain, but had hardly had the opportunity to take in the view. This was altogether different, seeing the city arrayed before her from the balcony of a ducal manor that was supposedly her home.
"Feel that sun," said Wyll, a smile on his face. "I never tire of this view."
"It's lovely, sure," said Karlach, "But about Raphane?"
Wyll nodded, lowered his head. "The city owes her a great debt it will never be able to repay."
Karlach's brow furrowed at Wyll. The vents on her shoulders let out a burst of irritated heat, luckily the cut of her night gown had clearly been made with that in mind.
"No more stalling," said Wyll, apologetic, "She sacrificed herself: became a mind flayer in order to stop the Netherbrain. She left with Lae'zel shortly after the battle ended." He frowned deeply, "We all knew why. We haven't seen either of them since that day."
"What?" Karlach's eyes and mouth were agape in disbelief. "That's the reward she gets for saving the city? A quick nip off into the woods for a celebratory mercy killing? And Lae'zel? I didn't even have the guts to see it through myself?
"It was what Raphane wanted," said Wyll. "She wanted us to remember her as she was before her transformation."
"That bitch," Karlach laughed hopelessly, shaking her head. "Just always had to have her way." She leaned on the balcony parapet. Shook her head. "This is all wrong." Karlach put her hand on her engine. "Wait. My engine. How come I'm not bursting into flames? This thing can't work outside of Avernus! That's why Raphane came with me to Avernus. She didn't turn into a mind flayer! She was with me in Avernus! But I-I convinced her to leave. Right. I made a deal to get her out! Didn't-" Karlach groaned as her head throbbed with the sudden onset of a pulsing headache, "Didn't I?"
"Karlach," said Wyll patiently, "Dammon fixed your engine years ago and you haven't been back to Avernus since you escaped Zariel."
"But the House of Hope? Raphael and the Orphic Hammer?"
"Raphane didn't want to put you through going back to Avernus again. You were in the city with Jaheira tracking down Minsc when the rest of us raided the House of Hope. Had quite a time of it too from what you said. Shoulder to shoulder with a living legend," Wyll smiled and punched Karlach's shoulder playfully.
"That sounds right," admitted Karlach slowly. "So why does it feel wrong?" She winced as the headache worsened and rubbed her temple. "Gods, I'm so confused. I can barely remember the last three years and half the memories I do have are wrong? What is wrong with me?"
"It's caused by the mind flayer parasites dissolving in our brains," said Wyll. "It can cause confusion, memory loss and even false memories. Everyone who had one of the Absolute's parasites in their brain experiences it. Some worse than others."
"Even you?" asked Karlach.
Wyll nodded. "I was distraught when I woke up one morning and Lae'zel wasn't there." He smiled, "But you helped me through it."
"I'm so sorry," said Karlach, hugging Wyll. "I was so busy thinking about Raphane I didn't even think about what you must have lost when Lae'zel left."
"It's okay, Karlach," said Wyll, "You were there when I needed you. Now I'll be here for you."
Karlach smiled, then winced when her head throbbed with the onset of another headache.
Karlach woke with the pain, a dozen needles stabbing into her brain. She sat up in bed. No need to disentangle herself from silk sheets. No elaborate ornamental canopy overhead. No bright slashes of light shining through tall windows.
She looked over the bed's edge toward the iron-barred window, which let in a warm draft as well as Avernus' all-too-familiar damnable red light. Through the window, one could witness the layered battlements of the Bronze Citadel stretching beyond sight. Swarms of imps patrolled the skies while flying fortresses came and went, bearing Zariel's legions to and from the front lines of the Blood War.
Karlach hated it, but at least it was familiar, at least it made sense and at least she knew how she had gotten here.
It was then that Karlach directed a scowl at herself, irritated that she had let herself fall asleep. She was lucky to have woken at all. She checked herself, made sure none of her body parts were missing. Throat a little sore, but that was to be expected. She got off the bed, gathered up her clothes that were scattered across the floor, stepping between empty bottles that also littered the floor as she did so, and started getting dressed.
"Leaving without a word, are you?" The voice was accompanied by a rustling from the bed as Florenta sat upright, stretched out her arms and wings.
"Don't pretend to be hurt," said Karlach, "It's insulting."
"Moody this morning as well, I see."
"There's no morning here. No day, no night, no sun, no stars."
Florenta yawned. "I've been to the material plane. There's nothing special about it. The orgy of blood that plays out in Avernus minute by minute is unparalleled anywhere else. A berserker like you should be reveling in it."
"A fight's a hollow thing when there's nothing worth fighting for."
"That explains a lot about your performance since you came back. From what I hear, you've not taken the head of a single marilith or balor since your return."
"Well I might have done if it weren't for that Anzaxes bitch constantly sticking me on cleanup details."
"That's your excuse? Pitiable at best. No wonder you're just a lieutenant."
"Sergeant."
"Like it matters. Until you're back in the inner circle, you're nothing."
"Excuse me?" scoffed Karlach. "Why are you fussing at me like we're married? And while we're talking about nothing, that's what you are to me: nothing. So you can shove your opinions."
"If I'm nothing, why do you keep coming back?" asked Florenta, her tone of voice curious and not the least bit offended.
"Because if I drink myself half senseless and close my eyes really tight," said Karlach, her voice heavy with self-loathing, "I can convince myself I'm anywhere else, with anyone else."
"What a waste," Florenta groaned. "You're not pining for that little green tart of yours again, are you?"
"She's long gone from my life," answered Karlach.
"You're that sure you don't see anything you miss?"
Karlach knew better than to look back but did it anyway. Florenta lay on her side languidly, wearing Raphane's shape. The supple green skin, long locks of red hair, spiraling horns and orange within black eyes were all Raphane, but the face-splitting, dagger-toothed grin was unmistakably Florenta's.
Karlach didn't bother hiding her revulsion. "Put it away," she said, annoyed.
"Well if you're going to be a sullen bore, do it somewhere else," said Florenta, sitting up and crossing her arms under Raphane's breasts, "I'm just going to have a scream in your old girlfriend's body if you don't mind. Close the door on your way out."
Karlach did not, in fact, close the door on her way out but soon wished she had, once Florenta's moans started echoing down the corridor. "Sleazy bitch," she muttered.
The lower corridors of the Bronze Citadel were the least fashionable and the least traveled, making them Karlach's preferred route for getting around the place.
Alone as she traveled the corridor, Karlach let her thoughts wander to that strange dream. Grand duchess of Baldur's Gate? Engine working smooth as silk on the material plane? What a collection of daft hopes that was.
But why dream of herself married to Wyll? Why dream Raphane had become a mind flayer and… even awake, Karlach still found herself seething at Lae'zel for an offense she well-knew the gith hadn't committed. But yet it seemed plausible that the gith would have been willing to kill Raphane turned mind flayer, and even that thought was enough to set a waking Karlach's engine running hot, even if only because the tiefling believed the dream Lae'zel had usurped a burden that should have been hers alone to bear.
But if it was a dream, why not dream big? A big bloody castle for her and Raphane with lots of ornery hill giants for neighbors to slay? Was even her own imagination convinced she couldn't have a happy ending? Or was it that she didn't think she deserved one?
Karlach shook her head. None of it mattered. She would never see Raphane, Wyll or Lae'zel again. They were on different planes of existence entirely. Good for them.
The thought was bitter, at first, but a genuine smile crossed Karlach's face after a moment. Good for them.
Karlach heard the rolling wheels of the food cart before she saw it or the spinagon who was pushing it. The scraggly, diminutive creature was only a little bigger than an imp, about half Karlach's height, spines ran along its back, its wings were tattered and looked unable to create any lift whatsoever.
Karlach grabbed a bread roll from the food cart as she passed it by and took a bite.
"Hey, shitstick!" protested the spinagon. "That's for the prisoners!"
"They're better off starving," said Karlach as she chewed.
"Wouldn't you think so?" said the spinagon as it pushed on.
Something in the spinagon's tone made Karlach pause midstride and, before she herself realized, Karlach was holding the spinagon by the throat, pinned against the wall. It scratched at her arm with its claws but didn't even leave a mark.
Karlach grinned maliciously at the spinagon. "Is there something rattling around in your pea-sized brain that you think I might want to know, little fellow?" she asked.
"Heard the jailer talking," said the spinagon, "Something about a tiefling captive."
"Tieflings, cambions and the like aren't a rare sight Zariel's dungeons," said Karlach. "So why should I be bothered?"
She squeezed the spinagon's throat. Its eyes bulged out of their sockets with rising panic. "Green!" it gurgled.
Karlach's eyes flashed furiously before she snapped the spinagon's neck like a twig and dropped the limp corpse to the ground.
It couldn't be Raphane, could it? She had seen her go through the portal herself, back to the material plane. But what if Raphane had tried to come back for her, only to be captured? What if her return to the material plane had been a trick? Karlach had to know.
The berserker was stepping off at a determined pace when the headache struck and staggered her. Her vision fogged before going dark.
"Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you?"
The words echoed and reverberated in Karlach's skull, building into a pounding crescendo. She winced and rubbed her temple.
Karlach tried to focus on whoever it was that was speaking to her: Councilor Florrick, and the lines of consternation that etched the elven woman's brow seemed deeper than usual.
"Are you even listening to me?" Florrick asked.
Karlach blinked uncertainly at the councilor. Hadn't she just been in the Bronze Citadel? This was… this was the ducal manor. But wasn't that a dream? Wasn't she in Avernus about to storm a dungeon to try and find Raphane? No. Raphane had sacrificed herself. Turned into a mind flayer. Hadn't she?
"What?" said Karlach aloud.
"Gods," groaned Florrick, before marshalling her wits and continuing in as patient a tone as she could manage. "I am trying, and failing, it seems, to impress upon you the precariousness of the grand duke's position, and consequently yours as well. I hope I am not boring you."
"Sorry," said Karlach. "Just a bit dizzy and disoriented, lately."
"It's not post abortive ceremorphal cognitive dislocation syndrome is it?"
Karlach shrugged her shoulders. "Wyll didn't give me the name for it but that sounds about right."
"Dammit! For the past year, I've been counting on you to… moderate some of Wyll's more disruptive ideas but you don't remember any of that do you?"
Karlach laughed, "Me, moderate disruption? First time I've ever been accused of that."
"You turned out to be better at it than I might have expected," said Florrick.
"Hard to imagine," Karlach admitted. "Maybe it's just this… this… whatever you called it but everything feels so wrong. Lower city girl becomes grand duchess? A bit fairy tale, isn't it?"
Florrick breathed in and out, patiently. "I am sorry for your personal difficulties but you must understand that it is the difficulties of the city that concern me."
"And what's the city's problem this time?" asked Karlach.
"Its grand duke," said Florrick. "Wyll cannot govern without the support of the other grand dukes on the council and the patriars. I'm not at all pleased to say he's losing support among both."
"And what about the people?"
"The people continue to love him. That's not the issue–"
"Well maybe it should be," Karlach interrupted. "Wyll has always been right to point out that too many dukes have put their own comfort and wealth ahead of the city and its people. If he's managing to change that then so much the better, I say."
"It's not only his policies," said Florrick, "He is inattentive during council sessions. He skips important functions. He is alienating the few allies he had."
"Including you?"
Florrick suddenly looked as though Karlach had struck her, "My loyalties have always been true to Grand Duke Ravenguard. First to Ulder and now to Wyll. Please, listen to me, duchess, many of the patriars were hesitant at best of allowing the title of grand duke to be passed to someone touched, shall we say, by the hells."
"He broke that pact years ago."
"They were able to look past it due to the heroic actions that Wyll took to save this city but-"
"But what? Shacking up with another infernal didn't exactly help his image? I've heard enough." Karlach stood up to glare down at Florrick. "Show yourself out. I'm sure you know the way."
"Karlach, please listen to me!" was the last she heard before slamming the chamber door shut on her way out.
Karlach stormed down the hallway leading away from the sitting room. Only one other person was in the hallway: a house servant who bowed when Karlach approached. "Please don't do that," Karlach said in passing, only to suddenly stop when she felt the servant grab onto her arm with surprising insistence. Her head snapped toward the servant to see her staring back intently. Karlach didn't recognize the servant: thin-faced, mousey blonde hair, tunic and trousers sensible and understated. But there was something familiar in the set of her eyes.
When the servant spoke, her voice was quiet but firm: "Fight it."
"Who are-" Karlach didn't get the question out before a hammerstrike of pain struck her skull. Her head throbbed and her vision turned dark.
Karlach wiped the blood from her eyes that had sprayed from the excruciarch's neck when she cut it open. She opened her eyes in time to see the pale-skinned pain devil collapse, head almost but not entirely divorced from his neck.
She looked back and forth, feeling fresh confusion. This was one of Zariel's dungeons, certainly, somewhere beneath the battlements of the Bronze Citadel. She was here to find Raphane. Or hopefully, fail to find her because she had better still be on the material plane. So why did Karlach feel as if just moments ago she had been talking politics with an especially dour-faced Councillor Florrick? What the hell kind of thing was that to daydream about?
It must have been a daydream. But here? Karlach looked to the body of the excruciarch as well as the bodies of the other jailers. Had she really just been daydreaming in the midst of a melee?
"Stop it, Karlach. Focus," she told herself, before snatching up the heavy keyring that was secured to the excruciarch's blood-soaked apron. "No distractions." If there was even the slightest chance that Raphane was here, Karlach needed to find her. Nevermind Wyll or Florrick or whatever nonsense Baldur's Gate was getting itself into now. She pushed all of them from her thoughts.
Karlach walked the length of the dungeon, pausing only to look through cell windows, although not too closely. More than a few long-limbed captives attempted to reach through and grab her.
Then Karlach's breath caught in her throat when she peered through one cell window to see a single green-skinned tiefling captive. She unlocked the door before pushing it open.
All the fire went out of Karlach once she got a good look at what was on the other side. She took slow steps into the cell, desperately hoping that the next blink of her eyes would reveal what she saw to be a lie, but it didn't.
Raphane was there, sitting with her back against the wall of the small cell, wearing only a spell canceling collar around her neck and the dirt and grime accumulated from too much time spent unwashed in a dirty cell. The green tiefling had always been thin but now her skin clung to her bones skeletally. Her hair had been shaved off and band shaped scars ran along her cheeks from the corners of her mouth.
Karlach sank down onto her knees in front of Raphane. The eyes were the worst part. The normally glowing orange within black eyes were dim, unfocused, vacant, downturned. They stared right through Karlach as if she wasn't there.
"Raphane," Karlach tried. She held Raphane's chin gently in her hands, tilted it up to look her in the eyes. "Please, Raphane, can you hear me? Darling?" Not the slightest flicker of recognition brightened Raphane's eyes as they continued to stare dead forward. Karlach wrapped her arms around Raphane carefully, terrified she might hurt her. "I'm so sorry, darling," said Karlach, choking back tears, "I thought I saved you from this. I really did." She pulled back to stare into Raphane's eyes again, desperately hoping to see any glimmer in them, "Can you understand me at all? Do you even know I'm here?"
Raphane's mouth quivered, opened, shut, opened. Karlach let out a gasp of hope. "Are you thirsty? I have water!" Karlach took the waterskin from her belt and uncapped it, her hands shook as she raised the opening to Raphane's parched lips.
That was when the garrotte slipped round Karlach's neck and dragged her backward.
"Truely, pathetic." Florenta hissed in Karlach's ear, "What a lovesick bore you've become. The Karlach I knew would have cut that husk's throat."
"You never knew me," Karlach managed as she fought against Florenta's grip but the cambion only pressed her heel into Karlach's back and tightened the garrote. Karlach felt something in her throat give before Florenta withdrew and let her slump forward.
Karlach opened her mouth wide before the terrifying realization settled in that she couldn't draw in a breath. She tried to crawl toward Raphane, and for a desperate moment thought she saw her lovers' eyes lock with her own one last time before the cambion pulled Karlach's head back, seizing her by her hair, long knife in hand. Karlach tried to will her engine to burn hot and just maybe take Florenta with her but the fires were burning low even as her breath ran out.
"You don't deserve this mercy," said Florenta, "but I've wasted too much time on you already." A single decisive slash from Florenta's knife opened Karlach's throat from ear to ear, spraying the stone floor with hot crimson.
Karlach stumbled forward and clutched at her throat, letting out a sigh of relief to find it whole and without a gaping slash all the way from one ear to the other. She took in her surroundings: a high-ceilinged hallway with some ornamental display cases. The ducal manor again.
But she could remember being in Avernus. She could remember the pain of having her throat slashed open. She could remember the horrible state in which she had found Raphane. It had all felt too solid to be a dream.
She could also remember that conversation she'd had with Florrick and it no longer seemed as pointless or inane as it had when she thought she was in Avernus. There was something going on, and Karlach resolved to play along until she had a better idea of what.
"You would not believe the conversation I just had with Florrick," announced Karlach on entering her and Wyll's chambers.
"Oh, don't be so quick to say that, I'm capable of believing quite a bit," laughed Astarion from where he lounged on a couch in the sitting area, wine glass held between two fingers.
"Astarion?"
"In the flesh, darling," he replied with a half-bow from where he sat.
"Is that my robe you're wearing?"
"Well, you do have to admit I wear it better than you."
Karlach crossed her arms and cut her eyes at Astarion. "Where's Wyll?"
"Out on the balcony," said Astarion, "Oh, and do feel better soon. Wyll and I have missed your presence during our sessions lately. You are the firmest piece of furniture in this place afterall."
Karlach couldn't quite keep the mix of disgust, scorn and surprise from showing on her face as she turned from Astarion and made her way to the balcony. The doors opened before she got there. She recognized the bald-headed gnome who emerged: Wulbren.
"Huh. Haven't seen you since got drummed out of the Ironhand Gnomes," remarked Karlach, "Are you fucking Wyll too?"
"Don't be ridiculous," said Wulbren, his tone surly as ever as he pushed past Karlach on his way out the door.
"Take care, prick," Karlach called after him before stepping out onto the balcony. Wyll was reclined on one of the chairs, boots kicked up on the nearby table, watching the dead silent upper city nightlife. The few noises of activity on the air wafted up from the lower city.
"Wyll," started Karlach, landing in the chair next to his, "I know my memories and my brain in general are more screwed up than usual lately but what in all the hells is going on? First I hear from Florrick that you've been acting up, then just a second ago I bump into that nutjob who wanted us to set off a runepowder bomb inside the city and finally just what the fuck kind of marriage do we have? Because I saw Astarion on my way in as well and it sounds like the three of us have been sharing more than just campfires."
"Karlach," started Wyll, "We've been married for three years. A bit of variety keeps things interesting. You never minded sharing before. But if it bothers you, of course I'll tell Astarion it's going to just be us for a while."
"Oh, how disappointing," commented Astarion as he stood at the doorway to the balcony and swirled his glass.
"Fine," said Karlach, sparing half a glance in Astarion's direction, "What about what Florrick told me? Trouble with the other grand dukes and the patriars?"
Wyll leaned toward Karlach and took her hands in his with a confident smile on his face. "The patriars and the grand dukes are nothing to worry about. We have the people on our side. Those fops can't touch us. Very soon, they won't matter at all." There was a gleam in his red eye.
Karlach let out a nervous chuckle. "What? What do you mean by that?"
Wyll just smiled.
Karlach didn't have long to wonder. A series of thunderous booms made her jump out of her chair and whirl around toward the source. Successive shockwaves shook the ducal manor house even as she was still turning around. She looked over the edge of the balcony in time to see many of the upper city's finest manor houses crumbling under the full moon. The multistory buildings collapsed in on themselves, upper stories seeming to remain impossibly upright as they descended only to disappear in clouds of dust that billowed out onto the streets, blanketing the entire upper city in a fog through which only the tops of a very few remaining tall buildings penetrated. There were several seconds of hushed silence before the screaming and shouting began.
Karlach turned back toward Wyll, horrified to see him still smiling. "Quite the spectacle, wasn't it?" he asked. Before taking a sip of his wine.
"I don't know," said Astarion, "I think the coordination could have been a bit better. So many little splintered booms. So disorganized. With the right timing one single 'Boom!' could have really spelled authority."
"Ever the critic," said Wyll with a laugh.
"Art doesn't improve in a vacuum," replied Astarion.
"Wyll," said Karlach, "What have you fucking done?"
"Only what we talked about," said Wyll, standing up and moving beside Karlach, who backed away from him. "Look, dear, I know your memories are mixed up, but even your memories from years ago are enough to tell you that this is right. "
"Right?" asked Karlach incredulously.
"The whole patriar class were never anything but leeches. Ruling on high, taking whatever they pleased, giving nothing back. Even the Flaming Fist were sick of them. In fact, practically everyone was," He motioned a hand out toward the ruined upper city, "Accomplishing this was so easy as to nearly be embarrassing."
"And that makes it right?"
"You're surprised," said Wyll, "But you're not angry. Why do you think that is? It's because you know that these were the same useless layabouts who let a little girl's mother die of an entirely curable fever rather than lift a finger to help."
"Watch it," said Karlach, shoulder vents letting out a burst of heat in warning, "Have a care using my mother's memory to manipulate me."
Wyll reached out to hold Karlach's hands. "With the patriars and the other grand dukes out of the way, we will make Baldur's Gate a paradise. This razing was necessary in order to make way for a better world. It's going to need a new name though. Balduran's legacy is one of compromise, betrayal and failure. Hardly a fitting namesake for our fair city. How does Cliffgate Gate sound?"
Karlach blinked. "That's the maddest thing you've said yet. And whatever your motives, this destruction is absolutely wrong."
"Please," Wyll traced a finger along the curve of Karlach's horn, "We waste far too much time and energy trying to convince people and authorities not to fear us. They're afraid of us because they know we're better than them, and the knowledge of their own inadequacies in the face of our superiority terrifies them. We're devils, baby! And it's time we ruled Faerûn as well as the hells. The Gate is only the beginning."
Karlach scoffed and pushed Wyll away, "Please, I'm no bloody devil and neither are you! I'm like this because some idiotic ancestor made an even more idiotic deal and then fouled up even further by a truly shitty career move."
"Not fouled up," said Wyll with a smile, "Perfected."
"Oh, do you want to line up for this treatment?" asked Karlach, gesturing to her engine.
"We each play to our strengths," said Wyll.
"And yours is what? Megalomania?"
"Vision." He nodded over Karlach's shoulder and she had only begun to turn her head when Astarion's teeth sank into her neck. The flush of pain and anger sent Karlach's engine running hot and the vampire yowled as his meal suddenly turned too spicy for his tastes. While he was reeling, Karlach grabbed him by the back of the neck and slammed him throat-first into the balcony's parapet before hurling him over it. That was when the blast of magical energy struck her side and sent her bowling over furniture as she tumbled across the balcony.
Karlach grabbed onto the balcony's parapet and fought to pull herself up, resisting the waves of agony that pulsed through her body with every turn of her engine. "A bloody eldritch blast?" she exclaimed.
Wyll shrugged. "Mizora and I have renegotiated our contract." He grinned. "The terms are more favorable than ever. I had hoped you would come around to my point of view but plans are in motion and they won't be slowed for the sake of any one person, no matter how dear."
Karlach lunged for Wyll but couldn't close the distance fast enough. The next eldritch blast sent her over the edge to land broken on the street below amidst the devastated remnants of the upper city.
Karlach woke up with a gasp, wide eyes staring at a ceiling of wooden boards.
She had died twice now. Both times in places that felt real as long as she was in them but felt like dreams the moment she wasn't. She had tried to play along the last time she had reawoken, it had gotten her hurled from a balcony courtesy of eldritch blast.
Twice now she could remember voices that had told her to fight it. Maybe it was time to listen. Because the moment she started behaving as if what was occurring was real, she seemed to get dragged under by it. She had to fight it. She had to stay above the illusion or whatever this was.
Karlach lay utterly still for a long time, listening. Outside, she could hear the sounds of the streets of Baldur's Gate. Not the eerie near-silence of the upper city but the gregarious ambiance of the lower city: conversations, loud and hushed, the cries of hawkers selling their wares, all of them seeping through thin walls.
She pushed off the covers and stood up from the narrow bed to find herself standing in a similarly narrow bedroom, with room for barely anything but the bed itself.
"Where are you now, Karlach?" she asked herself, exasperated. She took a few steps toward the bedroom door only to trip. She felt awkward, unwieldy. Then she caught a look in the mirror. A lanky teen stared back at her.
Anxiety seized Karlach with an icy grip.
She was breathing hard and fast as she pulled open the bedroom door, raced down the stairs of the townhome and made for the front door only for a voice to call out from behind her: "Karlach."
The voice was weak, strained, but it stopped Karlach in her tracks.
"Karach, please."
"It's a trick," Karlach told herself, eyes riveted to the front door looming ahead of her. "An illusion. Not real." She blinked back the tears that were starting to form. "Just a bunch of nonsense like bedding Flo or Wyll blowing up the city."
"Karlach? Are you out there?"
"It's not her." Karlach told herself before opening the front door and stepping through the threshold.
But instead of the lower city street, Karlach found herself standing in another narrow bedroom. A tiefling woman with pale red skin lay on the bed underneath many thick blankets, sweat glistening on her forehead. The final moments of the life of Caerlack Cliffgate, mother of Karlach Cliffgate.
"Karlach," she called out weakly. "Come here, please."
"No, no, no," said Karlach, backing up through the door and turning on her heel only to find herself back in the bedroom once more.
"Please, Karlach," said the bedridden visage. With an effort, she wrested an arm free of the many blankets covering her to hold a clammy hand out limply in Karlach's direction. "I don't want to be alone."
"You are not my mother!" cried out Karlach. Clenching her teeth, she summoned every once of will she possessed and fought to turn once more toward the door, to purposefully stride through it, but instead she collapsed to her knees when she found herself at the edge of the very bed she had been fighting to escape.
"Karlach, why would you say that?" asked Caerlack. The covers shifted as she tried to swing her feeble legs off the bed.
Karlach suddenly surged to her feet, tucking the covers under her mother's legs. "No, no, no. Don't move. Save your strength. Please, mum, don't try to move. Just rest. Just rest."
"Karlach," said Caerlack. Karlach looked into her mother's eyes: dim, faded, but still full of love. Caerlack raised her hand to softly cradle Karlach's face, "My sweet Karlach."
Karlach took a sharp breath in and out before holding her own hand against Caerlack's. Steady rivers of tears flowed from her eyes. She closed her eyes, ready to melt in the warmth of her mother's touch.
But it was a lie.
"No!" Karlach cried out, recoiling from her mother's bedside and falling to the floor. She scrambled backward. Looked over her shoulder for the door. It was gone. She looked for windows. Gone. Any way to escape. Everything was going black.
Caerlack's visage was the only thing that remained, a thin shape with a mantle of blankets over her shoulders, clammy and pale, taking slow, unsteady steps toward Karlach. Whichever way Karlach turned, the spectre was there. Karlach finally drew her knees against her chest, closed her eyes and made a futile effort to wipe away her tears. "Please, just stop this," she sobbed.
Karlach felt a hand on her shoulder and dared to open her eyes to see her mum looking back at her with undimmed almond eyes. She smiled gently as she wiped tears from Karlach's cheek.
A flash of white light overtook everything. Karlach's ears rang while the pang of a thunderous headache reverberated out to her every limb. She blinked yet only saw white until it dimmed to gray and then blurred shades of other colors.
The first thing to come into focus were Raphane's orange within black eyes, hovering inches away from her own, with the rest of her face resolving into focus in the moments thereafter. Raphane's lips were moving but Karlach could only blink uncertainly in response as the ringing in her ears denied any comprehension of what the other tiefling was saying. The pulsing and reverberating headache began to fade, allowing Karlach to feel her extremities once more. She could feel Raphane's hands clasping her own. Finally, the ringing subsided in time for her to hear, "-ink you're recovering. Just let me know when you can hear me."
"I-" Karlach started, then immediately broke out in a coughing fit as her voice caught in her throat. Raphane patted her back, not knowing if it was actually helping or not until Karlach finally stopped coughing and laid a hand on Raphane's shoulder.
"Are you alright?" asked the smaller tiefling.
"Not really," Karlach managed. She raised a hand to her cheek. Still wet from the tears. Her eyes met Raphane's again and the smaller tiefling's face creased with sympathy before she leaned in to wrap her arms around Karlach. The larger tiefling hugged her back tightly and buried her face in Raphane's shoulder.
"So that's the thing that did it?" asked Karlach.
It was difficult to tell what she was even looking at. It had probably been some kind of humanoid at some point. Now it was a mass of mangled and shredded flesh with bits of robe in the mix.
"Sorry there's not much left of it," said Raphane, "I got a little carried away when I was wild shaped."
"No need to say sorry," said Karlach. "Just as well it's dead, whatever it was."
"When it got you," Raphane continued, her arms crossed tightly across her chest, "I didn't know if it was an arcane spell or some kind of innate ability but you were still unconscious after I dealt with that thing. Dispel didn't work. Neither did restoration. I even tried shaking you, slapping you and splashing water on you. When I ran out of ideas I just started repeatedly casting resistance cantrips and hoped you would be able to shake loose of the hold yourself. Before you woke up, when you started shaking and shedding tears… I don't know that I've ever been so scared or felt so helpless."
"Do you want to hear something sick?" asked Karlach, still staring at the corpse. "Despite everything, I'm actually glad that I got to see mum again."
Raphane moved next to Karlach and held her hand before resting her head against Karlach's shoulder.
"More than fifteen years since that fever took her. Sometimes I would struggle to remember what she looked like. I don't think I'll ever forget again."