2.1 Acclimatization (Patreon)

2.1 Acclimatization 

Taylor

We could smell the Nautiloid long before we saw it again.

Durge had been right. 

The stench was putrid.

“Oh.” Gale winced, averting his head sideways, with a grimace. “That’s going to get much worse isn’t it?”

“I don’t suppose you have a spell that might help?” Durge rumbled, I couldn’t see his expression but I imagined he was not any happier about this than we were. 

“What are you three complaining about?” Lae’zel’s lack of nose was a blessing in disguise it seems…

Gale stamped his staff twice on the ground and a breeze kicked up to our right, blowing a stiff wind that sort of blew the scent away; a bit… a very little bit.

“Best I can do.” Gale admitted… or maybe lamented. 

Durge growled and I began breathing through my mouth as we carried on.

Climbing the last hill before reaching the beach- there it was.

The Nautiloid carcass was like a giant squid thrown across the whole beach. I saw vultures and crows and all sorts of carrion feeders circling around the tentacles and fleshy pieces of its body, swarming it.

“My people are not here.” Lae’zel growled.

None of us answered her, Durge began navigating his way down the cliffs and crags, and we followed right behind him.

“Hebert-” He called abruptly enough that it startled me. “Can you map out the interior with your insects.”

I looked back at the carcass. We were almost in the envelope of my range now, and given the sheer volume of flies on its exterior carcass- I felt fairly confident in nodding outright.

“Very likely.” I said. “Gotta get a bit closer to be sure but I can sense a lot of bugs.

“Good.” Durge nodded, navigating down a rocky outcrop. “Illithids hold their information on psionic tablets. We’re looking for any chambers in the ship that either have those tablets or anything that seems odd.

Everything here is fucking odd. I thought but didn’t say Gale offering a hand to help me down.

As we drew closer the stench got worse and worse. You’d think we, or I at least would get desensitized to it after a while but nope, nope, it was actively getting worse.

—

“I’m never gonna get the smell out of my hair.” I complained as we reached the corpse; gagging as a whiff of something foul hit me square in the face. 

“The sooner we’re done the sooner we can leave, and more importantly bathe.” Durge reminded glancing up and around at the towering carcass. 

“I’m surprised you’re handling it so well, don’t Dragonborn have a particularly sensitive nose?” Gale asked..

Durge’s glare was somehow both flat and absolutely murderous. “We do.”

“Ahh… Not having a good day then.” Gale cheekily replied. 

“I can drown you and they won't find your body.”

The Wizard laughed.

I don't think Durge was joking…

The white Dragonborn looked to me.  “Can you detect an entrance?”

I felt around with the bugs, I’d been right on the way down here. There were so many I practically had a full tactile map of the Nautiloid’s interior. 

“Yeah-” I answered, “-This way.”

I parted the swarms of flies for us, leading the group through the mucousy, decomposing mounds of flesh and cracked armor plating of the ship.

The entrance was… I guess I’d call it an orifice. A tunnel of flesh and bone leading up into the guts. 

Durge made a sound that seemed like approval before he began to climb up the space, the squelching sounds of his boots on the ‘floor’ turned my stomach.

He lumbered up to the top of the tunnel and then pried open a ‘sphincter’ that served as a doorway. 

Stepping inside, we were met with floors of chitin and bony carapace, the ship had landed awkwardly and so the floors were tilted at a fairly steep angle, but we could still walk.

“Alright, lets start by-”

“Hey.” I called interrupting whatever Durge had been about to say.

He turned to me in askance with a raised brow ridge.

I pointed upwards. “You asked if there was anything odd.” I said. “One room, completely sealed tight.”

He looked surprised, and then, intrigued. “No bugs?”

I shook my head. “Not a one. Air tight.”

Durge nodded. “We have our heading, lead the way.”

—

Madison

It wasn’t long after… everyone had left that Madison found herself restless within the druid Grove.

Of course she was. She was tired, sore, didn’t know what to do with herself, was surrounded by strangers and in very very real danger.

Emma was quiet; Madison would go so far as to say she was practically catatonic, or damn near close to it, simply sitting by the embers of the fire pit that had been made last night and just watching it.

Wyll, another Tadpole… victim? Infected? Whatever- who they’d met just last night had stayed behind with them, or, well, more accurately with the Tieflings, arguing that if the goblins returned someone needed to be here to defend them.

For lack of anything better to do, Madison opted towards helping him as he did the rounds.

Or more accurately she sort of… followed him around like a lost puppy.

He started the morning by joining the Tiefling children, teaching them the basics of swordsmanship, and with a kind smile invited Madison to join.

She felt ridiculous. She was at least twice the age of all of them, and she could barely even hold the sword straight.

But still, he was patient, and he was kind, correcting her stance, adjusting her footwork.

By the time she was done her heart was pounding from the exertion, sweat glistened on her skin and she was reminded for the upteenth time she needed a shower. 

Three days now. Urgh, she must reek.

The River was just down the hill. Maybe the druids had soap? Or the tieflings? Surely soap had to be a thing!

Maybe she could ask Nettie. 

Still, that was for later. 

Right now she was still following Wyll, who went around the camp, introducing himself to all of the Tieflings, asking if they needed anything, and he would just… do it, from helping carry water casks onto a cart to using his flames to heat up the forge of a Blacksmith named dammon to even helping replace a wagon wheel. And he seemed almost happy to do it all.

She saw him step between an arguing pair of tieflings, brother and sister named Rolan and Lia.

Rolan wanted to leave, to head straight away to Baldur’s gate, Lia wanted to stay to help try and defend the other tieflings. 

“Abandong so many to their fate will weigh on your conscience when you know you have the power to help” Wyll had said, and Rolan had all but snarled his displeasure even as he acquiesced to Lia’s demands that they stay

By the time they returned to camp for some food and water it was barely noon, but it felt like it’d been a whole day.

Emma was still there, she hadn’t budged an inch. 

Wyll’s hand clapped her shoulder. “Well done today.” He said, making Madison blink up at him.

“I… didn’t do anything?”

“You made your help available to those around you, sometimes that in and of itself is enough.” He assured.

Madison opened her mouth, but a flash of memory cut her off, resonating, bouncing in her skull.

There in the locker, the echoing mocking laughter, and the knowledge that no one cared enough to help at all.

She winced, the memory coming like a physical blow as she looked away, shame coiling in her gut. “I-I don’t know about that.” 

If Wyll detected her thoughts via the tadpole, he showed no signs of it, merely clapping her on the shoulder again. “Come, I’m sure we have some boar meat to-” He trailed off, making Madison look at him. 

“Wyll?” She called.

“Can you hear that?” He asked. Squinting up towards the sky and tilting his head as if trying to catch the sound.

Madison turned, straining her ears and just barely there, at the very edge of hearing-

“Singing?”

Wyll nodded. “Up the hill I think.” He looked to Emma. “Miss Barnes-?” The redhead jumped, all but startled like a mouse at being addressed.

 “Y-yeah?”

“Did someone come up the hill?”

Emma’s eyes glazed over before returning towards the ashen pile at her feet. “Yeah. Think so.”

“Hmm.” Wyll made a sound before he turned and began marching up the hill.

“He-hey!” Madison called. “Why are you going up there? If someone wants to sing, let em’ sing.”

Wyll smiled, the mess of scars on his face didn’t change the reassuring nature of that expression. “I grew an ear for a ballad or two and I think our songbird might be having just a hint of trouble perhaps.”

“Are you-” She was starting to get the impression that Wyll perhaps had a bit of a savior complex… or maybe a compulsion. Because this could not be normal.

Even so she followed him anyway.

Halfway up the hill, Wyll leaned down, whispering. “Your friend, Miss Barnes… she is not alright is she?”

Madison shook her head. “I… I don’t know what’s wrong. Besides the obvious of course.”

“Hmm.” Wyll made a sound, and she could see some concern on his features before he schooled them into careful neutrality. 

When they reached the top of the hill they found a Tiefling woman.

She introduced herself as Alfira- and she was indeed having trouble with her song.

“It’s for my teacher… she… she didn’t make it here.” The woman sighed. “I- wanted to make a tribute to her. But- well, its not- nothing about it is cooperating.”

Wyll hummed. “Well, in a past life I did develop a bit of a taste for courtly dance, though I never did learn my instruments as well as my teachers liked. How about you Madison?”

She was surprised at being addressed. “O-oh, well… Back when-” She blushed, long lost lessons more embarrassing than anything now that she was put on the spot. “When I was little my grandma did try to teach me the Violin a bit-” When Grandma had died she hadn’t kept up the practice… no money to pay for lessons and interest had just waned. 

“Excellent.” Wyll gushed. “Perhaps you might help Alfira with her song.”

“It couldn’t hurt.” The Tiefling woman smiled in her direction. A smile full of gentle indulgence more than serious expectation. 

Madison begged to differ. “No-no. It absolutely can!” She waved her hands as if to ward off the woman’s kindly indulgence. “I haven’t played in years! I-no no! You really don't want to.”

Alfira giggled. “What would one go of it cost?” She shrugged, before reaching into a trunk to pull free and offer-

A violin.

Madison’s eyes widened just a bit, and she reached forward in spite of herself to take hold of the instrument. Fingers grasping the neck and cradling it like a long lost memory.

Wyll smiled

She didn’t know it then, but in that moment like Fate clicking the puzzle pieces together, it marked her very first day of learning how to be a Bard.

—

Meanwhile, as Wyll and Madison helped a Bard find her song, a new presence approached the desolate camp.

“Hello petal.”

The voice was kindly, and it startled Emma, a lot of things were startling her now.

The old woman that looked at her smiled, a glint in her eyes. “I see someone in a spot of trouble. Hmm?” She coaxed, tilting her head just a bit in a way that seemed almost like a curious bird. “Auntie Ethel can help with any of your troubles.”

Her smile was sharp. “I have lotions and potions galore.”

If Wyll, or Gale had been present, they might have noticed.

Alas, they were not. And so the next words, laced with magic as they were pierced through the non-existent defenses of Emma’s mind. 

“Why dont ya tell sweet Auntie what it is you truly want, love?”

Emma stared, and the compulsion was barely needed to make the words spill out of her mouth. “I want to be strong.”

The one calling herself Auntie Ethel smirked. And it was a wicked, long toothed thing. “I have just the thing… some side effects might apply though.” 

She giggled and there was an undercurrent of something within that sound.

Emma didn’t notice.

—

Taylor

We climbed and climbed the winding, fleshy pathways that was the nautiloid ship, several times we needed to get creative to get to a place- damaged and tilted at almost seventy degrees as the ship was, but by hook or by crook the four of us did force our way up through the bowels of the dead carcass towards the door with the sealed room behind it. 

When we made it there, unlike damn near every other door on this thing it wasn’t a sphincter of flesh. Instead it was chitin. Hard and thick it looked like it was meant to survive anything short of a bomb hitting it. 

Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on your perspective the walls around it were not.

Lae’zel stabbed her sword into the flesh around the door and began sawing away.

Durge joined her moments later.

Even so it took a long time.

Both were exhausted by the time they were able to force open the door, Durge and Lae’zel heaving and pulling it, the chitin grinding and scraping against the cartilagous floors at our feet.

Exhausted they might have been, but it was open.

Gale let himself in first, a blooming light at the end of his staff illuminating the dark, and what we saw-

“Brains?” Gale whispered.

He was right.

Rows upon rows, shelf upon shelf of pickled brains.

“Did we go through all of this to stumble into the  blasted larder!?” Through panting breaths Durge did not look pleased.

But it was Lae’zel who shook her head. “No- The Ghaik do not store  brains as food.” She answered. “This… is a prison, an interrogation room.”

Interro- “They’re brains!?” I balked.

Lae’zel paid me no mind, turning her head , she leapt into the room and grabbed hold of Gale’s staff, manhandling the rod and the light closer to a plinth. “There.”

It looked like a miniature obelisk, only at the top there was a square receptacle,

A square receptacle that looked almost exactly like the shape at the underside of the jars the brains were housed in. 

The Githyanki marched towards the nearest jarred brain, grabbing hold of it, and placing it onto the plinth before shoving it down with a clack of mechanisms locking in place.

The Gith didn’t speak, not with her voice.

“Who are you?”

Her words were broadcasted through the tadpole and I felt the answering thrum of the imprisoned brain responding.

Gale looked fascinated and Durge intrigued. 

All I could feel was horror.

—

Amidst the throng of prisoners encased in the depths of this vessel one mind felt the psionic pulse… and stirred.

Even as he was, even as diminished and wretched as his condition left him, he could still feel the difference between a Ghaik and a nascent, fumbling novice.

As such, he expanded his awareness, the subtle pulses of psionic energy allowing him a brief window to see, like a creature, mapping a cave through sound. 

There was another, not like him. Not Githserai. Gith. Vlakith’s ilk.Unsuitable. No guarantee of success. His kind were strong.

A human. A Wizard. Perhaps. But his mastery of the weave was unknown, and potentially problematic. Possible but a last resort.

The third, the Dragonborn. Immediately, his mind recoiled from his touch. Something there. Something he should never dare to tread near. 

But then, the fourth… a lone human girl.

No mage, no particular sorcerous gift or pact.

Weak.

Prey.

‘You’ll do’

There was a pulse a lance of unseen psionic energy.

And the three adults turned, rounding as they each heard the solid crash of a body hitting the floor and tumbling down, down down.

“Taylor!” Durge shouted. 

She never heard him.

(X)(X)(X)

And so we start arc 2, where nothing, absolutely nothing is going wrong at all :3

There likely will not be another update this week as I am going on a short trip, but will be back on Sunday.Anywho, read, review, speculate and all that fun stuff. Remember to join us on discord if you want to talk with others who've read this far and that you should never take candy from Strange, kind old ladies. Ya never know when its a Hag in disguise.