Gale, Taylor decided, had never heard a silence he wasn't eager to fill. The man had a seemingly endless thirst for conversation, and either didn't notice or didn't care that it was almost entirely one-sided. His bottomless well of trivia had its uses though, as it took the lightest prompting from Taylor for him to go on a mini-lecture about some aspect of the world she was mostly ignorant of. In the past hour of walking, she'd learned a number of interesting facts.
The world she now inhabited was called Toril, and they were specifically on the continent of Faerûn, near the Sword Coast - named thus because it was the coast off the Sea Of Swords, which was named thus because it was filled with useful trade routes and equally filled with greedy pirates. Toril was essentially an alternate Earth, like Earth Aleph: the same size, the same length of day, the same length of year, the same distance from the solar system's central star, approximately the same seasons and climate patterns.
This was a world of magic - elves and dwarves, swords and sorceries, that sort of stuff. If Taylor had been on her own world, someone claiming to be capable of magic would just be a lunatic or a liar, but here they had a long history of study regarding the topic. This had been around since the dawn of time, certainly far too long for it to just be a Cape thing from another point-of-view. It made sense, in a way; they lived in a multiverse, so it stood to reason there were many many universes out there. It would be silly to assume the only supernatural thing to ever happen in any of them happened in her world within spitting distance of her birth.
Astarion had a number of questions on the subject - or rather, less questions about magic in general, and more Gale's experience with it. Gale was, if you believed him, a magical prodigy who'd been mastering spells since he was a young child. Taylor hadn't seen him cast anything yet so she wasn't sure how much stock to put in that; he'd claimed to have gotten magically transported into that cliff face, but he'd also been stuck in that cliff face. Still, Astarion didn't seem like the type to be easily snookered and yet he seemed to believe every word. He seemed both pleased and concerned, which made Taylor wonder what he knew.
But yes, magic was a thing. Technology had been stagnating for centuries, maybe millennia, because there was very little need to innovate on that front when there were magical solutions available. A few deities and their followers still kept things moving forward, but progress was slow and easily lost when the whole world wasn't pushing for it, and it didn't help that a number of other deities would oppose certain improvements for encroaching on their domain. Speaking of which: gods were a thing, apparently? Granting powers to followers, wandering the world, smiting people that annoyed them. It all felt somewhat similar to what she recalled of Greek mythology so she tried to keep that in mind going forward. She'd already maybe pissed off "petty gender-swapped Poseidon", no reason to go about making more enemies.
Gale had studied magic most of his life, but Durge seemed to think they were a natural talent - or at least, if there was some complex formulae involved in the construction of their spells, it was so ingrained in their muscle memory they could do it without remembering how. It made Taylor wonder if her new bug powers were actually magical in nature - that maybe something about arriving here had infused her with magic. But if that was the case, then why bugs? Maybe it was because the illithid ship and controls might be insectile in origin? That seemed unlikely, or at the very least as likely as her having gained powers more akin to those in her world of origin.
Taylor's geographical questions were easily explained by claiming to not be very well-traveled. Her other questions caught her some side-eye from Shadowheart and Astarion, but Durge would chime in with similar questions to patch the holes in their memory, and nobody questioned Taylor's queries out loud. Gale, for his part was happy to talk about most any subject if someone was willing to listen. Taylor hadn't worked up the courage to ask what he knew about tadpoles that turned you into a mind flayer, and nobody else seemed willing to broach the subject so far.
Another hour or so had passed, and the road started following the edge of a short cliff. Maybe some fifteen minutes after Gale joined them, Taylor had hit her limit on bugs. Or well that wasn't quite the correct way to phrase it; she hadn't reached a point where she could no long sense more bugs without losing track of the conversation, she had just run out of bugs she wasn't already counting. She could feel every bug going outwards for what felt to be several hundred feet. She could mentally count them, one at a time, in the same time it took to draw breath. She could categorize them by species, size, gender, whatever she could think of. She'd also confirmed it wasn't just bug detection, but actual full control: she could command each individual to do something different and it took no more time than giving a single one a single order. It didn't even really feel like she was giving orders, it was more like each bug had a copy of her mind within it, doing exactly what she would've ordered it to do, because they knew what she wanted, because they were her. A hivemind of one.
She could even use their senses, all at once...or at least, she could in theory. Every time she tried, she was back in the locker the kaleidoscope returned. Now she had context: the overwhelming sensory input had come from experience all the senses of every insect within a thousand feet, all while she was essentially experiencing sensory deprivation with her own body, with no idea how to turn off the bug senses. It had been like learning to swim in a hurricane. Now that she had time to relax, and wade into the water at her own pace, she found she could handle it a bit better. She still couldn't really parse everything, and bug senses weren't all that great to begin with, usually. Position was easy - she knew exactly where every single bug was in relation to her physical body, the same way her brain knew what her fingers were doing behind her back even though she couldn't see them. Most insects didn't have reliable vision or hearing, taking in sensory input through feeling the air or the ground instead - occasionally something akin to a good sense of smell.
Taylor could focus on a small subset of the bugs available to her and experience their senses at once just fine, but going past that limit gave her a terrible headache. She could see the count climbing though; every time she pushed through, the next time was a little bit easier, and she got a few more bugs within her awareness before she couldn't hold them any longer. At her current rate, assuming it held steady, it'd take all day before she could constantly perceive through every bug within her range. But until then, she would have a slowly-growing spotlight that she could move around her 'territory' keeping an eye out.
This spotlight is how she became aware of a humanoid figure up ahead, maybe 30 ft off the road through thick bushes and tall grass. They were low to the ground, armed, and armored. "Just a heads up everyone: about 200 ft up the road, there's a person just off the path, hidden low among the foliage. Looks like they might be trying to ambush travelers, but it's just the one."
Gale looked intrigued, and then suddenly worried. Shadowheart and Astarion drew weapons in anticipation, and lightning crackled over Durge's fingertips. But then Gale spoke up: "Drow aren't fond of the sun, their eyes just aren't use to it. This might be my rescuer having stopped for a moment of comfort before continuing their journey. If that's the case, I'd appreciate it if we didn't start a fight we don't have to."
"...true enough," Shadowheart conceded, although she didn't sheathe her weapon. "Certainly we've got enough problems without making enemies out of allies. We'll give this hidden person a chance. And if they still decide to jump out...well, it's five-to-one, and none of us are slouches. I don't fancy their chances." Astarion didn't seem to share the sentiment, but he tersely nodded, so he probably wouldn't just stab the person the instant he could.
Once they reached that part of the road, they made their way through the underbrush before finally spotting what had caught Taylor's attention: Lae'zel. She was sitting on the ground, looking for all the world as if she was taking a short rest, if one ignored the nasty-looking bear trap latched onto her leg. Taylor checked, and the woman's song had no changed to the panicked flute seeking freedom that her own had become on the nautiloid; her drumbeat continued resolutely, and there was no sign of distress on her face.
She regarded the group coolly. "Durge. I require assistance." The lizard-person complied, but even with the two of them, pulling apart the teeth on this enormous trap was proving difficult.
Taylor glanced at Astarion. "She helped us get the ship back out of Hell." A beat passed, with no response. Seems they need some help getting that thing open. I don't suppose you're stronger than you look?" If she wasn't crazy, him helping would make pulling this thing apart look like child's play.
Astarion grimaced, but nodded and wandered over. "We don't have all day for you two to get it loosened. Here, allow me." Instead of simply grabbing hold and yanking, he produced a small set of tools and proceeded to dismantle the bear trap by the hinges. It reached a point where the tension behind the spring held more power than the bolts barely holding it together, and the whole thing fell apart.
Lae'zel stood and stretched, testing her mobility on the leg. It had to hurt something awful, but she either didn't notice or powered through it. "A useful skill," she proclaimed, nodding approvingly at Astarion before her attention returned to the group at large. "We must continue. The ghaik stole from Créche K'liir prior to skipping around the planes. My people shall be hunting to recover what was taken. A temporary créche will have been set up, with a ghustil attending to ensure protocol can be followed. They will be able to remove the parasites, but only if we arrive before we are transformed." She glanced at Taylor. "These two are infected as well, yes?"
Taylor nodded. "How long do we have?" she asked, finally broaching the topic. Shadowheart had seemed unsure, and Taylor was hoping she'd been guessing on the low end. Gale likely knew, but he seemed...flighty? He had almost certainly been thinking about it, but he'd spent an hour talking about anything else at the slightest provocation. Either he was just completely incapable of prioritizing, or he had been trying not to think about it too. Taylor wanted straight answers, and she knew she'd get them from Lae'zel.
Sure enough, the woman was...blunt. "Symptoms in order: fever, memory loss, visual and auditory hallucinations, hair loss, excessive external bleeding, warping of the skeleton, restructured jaw, shedding skin. The whole process takes six days, at which point you have ceased to exist, replaced by an illithid, a servant of the Grand Design with access to all your memories and none of your empathy."
Taylor caught Shadowheart's eye, and both of them grimaced; her estimate had been dead on. "We'll need to get moving, then," the healer said decisively. "Will your créche be willing to heal outsiders, or will they employ more...standard methods of preventing the transformation?"
Lae'zel scowled. "I cannot speak for them. You can take your chances with a gith blade at your throat, or take your chances with a tadpole at your brainstem. The choice is yours."
Shadowheart smiled, but it wasn't a kind smile. "Here's hoping kindness and basic decency prevails then."
Taylor frowned. She took ahold of her power, the one about minds instead of bugs, and reached out. Her song gently embraced that of the elven woman's, and Taylor spoke to her, mind-to-mind. [Please don't antagonize her. She may be able to convince them to allow us inside. We have enough problems without making enemies out of allies.]
The woman's lips pursed at the echo of her own words, but she didn't even look at Taylor to give away the unspoken plea. "Perhaps I'm being too pessimistic, my apologies," she said. It seemed directed at Lae'zel, but her mask of indifference shifted to something more apologetic when she just barely glanced at Taylor. "Will you be able to walk on that, or do you need healing? With how short our time frame may be, we don't want to be slowed down."
"I have survived worse, and it will not slow me down," Lae'zel replied, shaking her head. "Save it for life-threatening injuries. We may yet have more dire need of it this day." And without another word, she stalked off down the path.
The road wound through the forest in a northwesterly manner as the afternoon crept closer to evening. There was some jerky being passed around - tasted like chicken, although as usual Lae'zel's language hadn't been translated automatically so Taylor had no idea what it was made of - but they would either need to find civilization soon, or make camp with basically no supplies. Taylor had her now-much-bigger spotlight circling around at the very edges of her range to see if she could find something interesting. She hadn't set any of them to follow her; she was certain that, with how many bugs were within her sphere of influence at any given time, it was quite within her power to disrupt the local ecosystem, and she didn't need the God Of This Specific Forest smiting her for trying to defend herself, especially if it wasn't even necessary to tear apart the food chain to stay safe in the first place.
Suddenly, something drew her attention. Near the far end of the path she could sense, two groups came into her awareness. The first she barely detected, for they were relatively clean and few in number, so she only felt them because they were running past so many bugs. The second group was plainly obvious to her every step of the way. They were going just as fast, there were far more of them, and every one of them was positively infested with fleas and lice. The first group was running in close to a straight line through the forest - dodging around trees, but moving as if they had a destination.
Taylor moved her spotlight in a line extending in front of them as she delved into the senses of those bugs. She couldn't handle very many at once, it was a much smaller spotlight if she overlaid their senses on her own, but she'd finally gotten enough of them that between ten-thousand shitty eyes she could make out what was being seen as if she were present. Her breath stilled as something constructed came into view - a massive wooden gate covered in thorny vines, flanked by smooth stone walls. A few horned figures stood guard on top of the wall and gate, armed and armored. It was a bit beyond the edge of her range, which was why she couldn't feel any of it, and as far as she could tell there weren't any paths leading from this road towards that part of the forest; if she hadn't looked, they would never have known it was there.
She looked to the first group. All were armed, armored...and wounded and scared. They behaved like men being chased, or animals being hunted. Taylor made a snap decision and pointed approximately east-northeast. "Maybe a thousand feet that way, big wooden gate built into the cliffside. Might be our best option for awhile. There's no paths heading towards it though, so it's a trek through the woods the whole way."
Most everyone started asking questions at the same time - how sure are you, how do you know this, are they hostile, how many people do you think are there right now - none of which she could answer (or feel comfortable answering). But Durge just started walking in the indicated direction. "It's hidden deep in the woods, so it's either bandits or druids. If they're friendly druids, we'll get there fine. If they're unfriendly, the trees and animals on the way will deter is plenty to signal we should turn around. If they're bandits, they're on the run from the law and we can just kill them and use their camp for our own." Nobody had any disagreement with that, so the six of them started making their way through the forest. Taylor continued tracking both groups; despite their far greater speed, Taylor group had started much closer, so all three would reach the gates right around the same time.
Upon arrival, it was already in chaos. The first group was there; two of them had fallen in battle already, while the remaining four fought desperately not to join them. A fifth, not a member of the original group, fought alongside them - a tall fit black man in a stylish maroon coat, swishing a saber around with deadly accuracy. And the second group...the second group were monstrous. A dozen short and stout creatures, greenish skin and unkempt hair crawling with bugs and weapons that looks positively primitive. Every one of them was riding...she wasn't sure what they were actually. They looked like feral hunchbacked wolves, all muscle and fur and teeth. She wasn't sure if they were big by wolf standards, or if her expectation of wolves was inaccurate, but either way, they were terrifying to behold.
Taylor's companions surged forward. Shadowheart summoned a ball of water above several of the twisted wolves, positively drenching them and their riders. Durge threw a handful of lightning at the monsters, electrifying the water and giving them all a nasty shock. Then they grabbed Gale, and with a gust of wind to aid, flew up into the sky, setting down on the edge of the stone wall to the right of the gate. Gale took advantage of the vantage point by firing an oversized icicle at one of the larger wolves; it nailed the thing right in the chest, and an explosion of pure cold radiated outward, freezing the water at their feet and rendering them all temporarily stuck. The two of them stayed up there the whole fight, pelting the monsters with all kinds of magic.
Lae'zel and Astarion waded into the melee, each in their own way terrifying to behold. Lae'zel was a rock in a stream, for every blow that came her way was deflected by her sword and answered in kind. Astarion, meanwhile, was a leaf in the wind - he flitted around the edge of the group with the casual air of a man out for a stroll, but every blade or arrow that came his way found him missing upon arrival. He was as a ghost, ducking every swing and dodging every arrow. Occasionally an arm would lash out, and a deep cut gushing blood would appear on a neck, or a heel. Shadowheart stuck close, ready to jump in with some quick healing should a mortal blow land where it shouldn't.
Taylor was keeping her distance, focusing on distracting the enemy wherever she could. She turned up her volume, and one of the wolves fell into barking hysterics, falling on its side and pinning its rider. Her mind enveloped another, sharing with it the helpless fear she'd felt so many times at school, and it fled in terror from an unseen predator; Lae'zel's sword clotheslined its rider at the neck, and their flesh yielded before her metal did. On every single one of them, mount and rider, an army of fleas and lice jumped at her command, burying themselves in eyes and ears and unmentionables.
Within a minute, every last one of the attackers were dead. Astarion and Lae'zel began picking over the bodies, looking for anything remotely valuable, and Taylor sent the bugs scuttling away; no need to infect her teammates with lice, after all. Two of the guards up on the wall began raising the gate - which was actually a portcullis - while a third called out "Everyone inside!" Taylor shot a glance at Astarion, who almost seemed to smirk at the remark...but then again, his default facial expression seemed to be smirking. It wasn't necessarily proof of anything.
Taylor's eyes flicked back to the gate-guards, who seemed to be having a tense conversation with Gale and Durge. Hopefully they would be able to find shelter here, at least for one night. They'd saved lives, after all.