Hi everyone,
Thank you paladinofcrabs for the follow and bookmark !
Regarding the companions present in this fiction, I have limited myself to the maximun characters we can have in our team. When I write a story, I like being able to give time to all protagonists. The more characters there are, the less I can offer them the development they deserve. So I'm sorry for all the fans of Karlach, Wyll and Gayle; I appreciate those companions dearly, but it would have been a pity to make them present without honouring them.
I wish you all a good reading !
"Get up."
Nymuë opened her eyes. Images raced through her mind: the Nautiloid was crashing down, taking her with it; the claws of a mind flayer were closing on her face; the tentacles of a tadpole were wrapping around her eye... She searched for her weapon, but found nothing but sand. The salty air caressed her face, the seagulls's cries mingled with the waves... And the flames engulfed the remains of the illithid ship.
She had survived. All that remained of the crash was wreckage and charred bodies, yet she herself was... unharmed? No wounds, no bruises... nothing. It was incredible. No: impossible.
A brief twitch told her that her parasite had also survived, which was less good news. If this thing had anything to do with her miraculous reception, then it was a safe bet to say it didn't want to be separated from its host... Yet another bad sign.
For the moment, Nymuë did not have the luxury of worrying. She had to find shelter in this field of ruins, and she had no idea where to begin with.
"Step one", she decided, "is to search for any survivors". She was already struggling to realise her own survival, but who knows? Perhaps the parasite was capable to overcome gravity...
It only took few steps to spot a figure among the rubble. The young woman was delighted to recognise Shadowheart, the half elf rescued during their escape. She was lying down, her eyes closed, but also unscratched. In the daylight, Nymuë could make out her dark blue robes more clearly, completing a chain mail. An insignia was repeated on the carefully embroidered garment: a simple black circle, surrounded by silver. If this was a religious symbol, the medical knowledge of a priestess was more than welcome.
Something else caught the dark elf's eye. A small polyhedral object, which the sleeping beauty was clutching tightly in her hand. It must have been important for Shadowheart to have clung to it despite her fall. An enchanted artefact, perhaps? The engraved runes were from a language unknown to her. Nymuë couldn't sense any magic at work, yet the device undoubtedly exuded... something.
She shook Shadowheart's shoulder briefly, and her green pupils flickered before identifying her:
"You're alive!" she exclaimed. "I'm alive! How is that possible?"
"I was hoping you could tell me", Nymuë sincerely replied.
"I remember the ship. I remember falling... then nothing."
Her story mirrored hers. The mystery remained, meaning that the how of their situation would have to wait. The real question now...
"What's next?"
"We need food", Shadowheart listed. "Shelter. And most importantly, a healer. We may have escaped, but we still have those little monsters in our heads."
"Us?" The dark elf raised. You want us to stay together?"
This was unusual, although understandable. In a crisis, the chances of survival were always greater within a community. Nymuë was simply more used to going it alone.
"We don't stand a chance alone", her companion continued. And we both know what's at stakes. I can't think of a better company."
"In that case, it's agreed", the young woman smiled. "Let's go."
"One last thing", Shadowheart hesitated. "I wanted to thank you again... for freeing me. It would have been all too easy for you to walk past my pod, but you didn't. I'll remember that."
The dark elf's smile widened. In the chaos of the last twenty-four hours, finding an ally was certainly the most positive thing that had happened to her.
She and Shadowheart explored the beach, looking for possible resources. They found several corpses; passengers less fortunate than themselves... but also fishermen. Poor buggers, obviously in the wrong place at the wrong time. Their macabre presence confirmed though there must be an encampment nearby. The easiest thing to do, the half elf decided, was to get some height to observe the area. At the rear of the Nautiloïd, a path overlooked the beach; they started there.
They walked through the wreckage of the illithid ship, spotting the bodies of mind flayers amongst the debris. It was a relief to know – in their current state – that these monsters had not survived.
At the top of the cliff, the ocean stretched as far as the eye could see. The flora and fauna were typical of the Sword Coast, but this clue was like looking for a needle in a haystack. The survivors had no idea where they were, or even if there was a town in the area.
"Somebody help me! I need a hand!" a voice shouted.
Nymuë grabbed her chained dagger, and Shadowheart her mace. The sound was masculine, clearly not illithid. However, that didn't guarantee the absence of danger... She glanced at her companion, who nodded: they might as well go and see what it was all about.
At the bend of the path, they spotted a man. A high elf, judging by his lanky stature and pointed ears. He had the typical beauty of his species, although his skin was too pale, too livid. His hair, also white, was neatly trimmed. Even his clothes seemed well made, a purple doublet embroidered with gold and lace. A civilian?
"Quick!" he exclaimed as they approached. "I've seen one of those things cornered!"
Nymuë twitched; now that they were closer, she noticed the newcomer's blood-red irises. A surprising feature, supposed to be unique to her kind, as she recalled. The dark elf's eyes shifted from her interlocutor to examine the bushes nearby:
"There, in the grass", the stranger continued. "You can kill it, can't you? Like you killed the others?"
Given the choice, Nymuë really didn't want to kill anything. But if any illithid threat had survived the crash, it had to be eradicated to avoid infecting potential innocents. The presence of Shadowheart reassured her, and she moved towards the thicket.
The chain of her dagger clanked between her fingers. She didn't know how many of them were in there... As if in answer to her question, a boar emerged from the undergrowth. It was short of breath, its eyes wild... but clearly not a flayer. The animal scampered off, and the young woman thanked her lucky stars.
Until the edge of a knife met her throat.
"I saw you on the ship", the stranger hissed, "Coming and going as you please. What have you, and your tentacled friends, do to me?"
Nymuë raised her hands in surrender. Cautiously dropping her dagger, she tried to twist her attacker's sword arm, but the elf had a firm grip. A civilian, she thought? Definitely not. The stranger drew his dagger closer:
"Keep your distance", he snarled at Shadowheart. "This doesn't have to get messy."
"I need her alive", her ally retorted. "Hold that blade, or suffer the consequences."
"Sweet promises! As for you... where were we? Ah yes, the ship. You were inside, weren't you? Nod."
The dark elf complied grudgingly. This seemed to satisfy her assailant:
"Right, now you're going to tell me exactly why you... Argh!"
The world began to turn, and Nymuë found herself once again seeing through eyes that weren't her own. She wandered through dark, crowded streets. She tried to hold on to this memory, but the image faded, replaced by the blinding light of the sun. With it came the fear.
"What was that?" The man spat. "What's going on?"
"The tadpole", the young woman articulated. "Those of the mind flayers... they connected us."
The grip on her neck disappeared. The stranger moved away, like an animal about to pounce.
"The worms...That explains things."
His attitude suddenly changed. From threatening, his gestures and voice became gracious, as if he hadn't been so close to bleeding her to death the minute before.
"And to think I almost cut you open!" he exclaimed happily. "My apologies for this unfortunate mistake."
Nymuë rubbed her throat, noticing the dagger had left no scratches. It wasn't the first time someone tried to intimidate her, but this casual behaviour was something new. She decided to be cautious:
"Apology accepted. I might have done the same had the roles been reversed."
"Take it for granted". However, her interlocutor seemed delighted:
"A kindred spirit", he cooed. "My name is Astarion, and I was in Baldur's Gate when those beasts catched me."
"Nymuë", she introduced herself.
"Shadowheart", the relevant added.
"A pleasure. So... do you know anything about these worms?"
The fleeting image of the newborn illithid crossed Nymuë's mind. The half elf's scowl told her that she was thinking the same thing:
"Yes, unfortunately. They're going to turn us into mind flayers."
Astarion lost his splendour. His laugh was both incredulous and bitter:
"Of course this is going to turn me into a monster. But... it hasn't happened yet. If we can find an expert... someone who can control these things... it might still be time."
Nymuë reflected. She didn't trust this Astarion; a blade to the throat was hardly the best of introductions. That said, he was a survivor, a victim of a parasite just like Shadowheart and her. They weren't going to abandon him to his fate, were they? She and the priestess glanced at each other. Nymuë saw her own doubts reflected. Nothing they had experienced in the last few hours was logical or reassuring. Even if her survival instinct was protesting, the young woman could imagine that some people would take a belligerent approach to strangers. So be it. The pale elf would be given the benefit of the doubt, as long as he pointed his weapon at something other than her jugular.
"You should come with us", she said. "Together, our chances of survival are greater than on our own."
"Hmm"... Astarion mused. "You know, I was ready to continue alone... But maybe sticking with the herd isn't such a bad idea. And you seem to be a useful person to know. Alright, I accept."
With a most exaggerated bow, he followed them as they decided to leave the area around the Nautiloïd. They came across a number of traps: the hypothesi village was confirmed. As they tracked the trail of decoys, they heard voices. A man and a woman were arguing a little further on:
"Zorru was right. Yellow as a toad, and twice as ugly!"
"This thing is dangerous. Leave it to the goblins to kill."
Nymuë spotted a couple of tieflings, hunters by the look of them. They were standing in front of a wooden cage, held aloft by pulleys. A sophisticated trap for a civilian camp... not designed to catch food, but to keep intruders away. Inside, the dark elf recognised the githyanki warrior.
"I suppose weeds always die last." Shadowheart grumbled.
"Do you know this creature?"Astarion asked.
"She helped us escape from the ship. She seems to know these illithid parasites..."
"You're not seriously thinking about it!"
Shrugging her shoulders, Nymuë simply stepped out from behind her bush. She heard her companions join her, as well as the priestess railing bitterly. The githyanki's eyes pierced her to. She didn't open her mouth, but the young woman heard her voice :
"Get rid of them," she ordered. Another surprise from their parasite... one that Nymuë hardly had time to experience, as the tieflings spotted them:
"By the Hell!" The woman cried. "Underelf."
"Draw your weapon, Nymessa", her comrade commanded, doing so as he spoke.
The dark elf held back a grin. Of course. She was no longer in Baldur's Gate, where she understood the habits and customs. In the heart of the city, Nymuë knew which districts to avoid, and which individuals not to annoy. She wasn't surprised. When she had decided to leave, Revan had warned her. But anticipating the animosity of strangers, and experiencing it were two different things entirely. No matter...
"Run along now", she ordered in her sharpest tone. "If you're clever."
If this duo were part of the cantonment they were trying to locate, the future looked bleak. Nymuë felt the stares of her companions behind her back and swallowed. Were they beginning to realise that they had formed a bad alliance?
The elder of the two tieflings gauged her, then sheathed his weapon.
"Come, Nymessa. Let's go."
They fled westwards. As soon as they were gone, the githyanki called out to her vehemently:
"Stop stalling! Get me down!"
"The magic word?" Nymuë asked.
A slight cough told her that Shadowheart was hiding - without much effort - a sneer. The warrior stared at her with murderous intent:
"Never."
The dark elf rolled her eyes. Humour was not her strong point, alright. She twirled her dagger and, with childlike simplicity, threw her chain at the pulley holding the wooden cage. The cell collapsed, taking her prisoner with it, but the fall was short-lived. Their new friend rose to her feet with all the dignity she could muster.
"I see the tadpole hasn't completely boggled all your senses. But the longer we wait, the more it consumes. My people know the cure for this infection. I must find a creche. You will join me."
"Oh, really?" Shadowheart intervened. "The last I heard, your people were flying around the sky on red dragons. You're the ones who set fire on the ship!"
"What exactly is a creche? " Nymuë asked.
"Many things. A hatchery, a training ground, a shelter. The githyanki protocol is clear: if you're infected by a ghaik tadpole, you must seek a ghustil to be purified."
The dark elf tilted her head thoughtfully. If all the githyankis were like this one, the idea was not the most attractive. However, it was their only lead at the moment...
"I suppose that's a solution worth considering..." she thought aloud. "Why don't you come with us? We'll see if we can locate this, um, creche."
"It shouldn't be far. The horned ones mentioned a camp. Someone there... Zorru... saw githyankis. You chose wisely, and made yourself an ally in creche K'liir", the warrior said proudly. "Few people know such fortune. Call me Lae'zel."
"I trust your judgement", Shadowheart hissed, "but I won't trust her. Not until I've got to see what she's made of."
"You've got a sharp tongue, elf. Too bad your mind doesn't proof its equal."
"Half elf. A subtlety lost on a creature like you..."
Holding back a sigh, Nymuë turned to Astarion. He hadn't said a word, but hardly seemed hostile to their new ally. In fact, he looked rather amused by the verbal exchanges between the two women.
"Very good", the dark elf mused, "so we have an irascible githyanki warrior and a haughty priestess. A high elf who's quicker with his dagger than he is at easing tensions. And me, in the middle of it all."
That was promising.
END NOTES
The stage is set, our companions are together... and now it begins !
See you next week.