2.2- Acclimatization (Patreon)

2.2- Acclimatization

Sophia

“My, but that thing was enormous.”

Astarion’s remark wouldn’t have felt out of place if there was an impressed whistle just before it. And Sophia could agree.

The ruins they’d been sent to were at the top of the cliffs, overlooking the long stretch of beach where they’d first met each other. They hadn’t seen it because of just, sheer overgrowth covering the majority of it up.

But from here, they could definitely see the Nautiloid. A massive stretch of dead octopus or… whatever the hell it was, stretched out for at least a mile, maybe more along that beach, cliff and forest.

“Think they’re having fun exploring it?” Shadowheart asked.

Astarion let out a sharp, almost barking laugh. “Aha. I doubt that. You can almost smell it from here.”

Sophia didn’t pay them much mind, the weight of the bow in her hand was… unfamiliar. She was much more accustomed to a crossbow. This thing used arrows but felt foreign in her hand. 

 “Can we just get this over with?” she demanded. 

She was restless, irritated. She felt… out of place, uncomfortable and she really wasn’t sure why.  

Astarion and Shadowheart didn’t protest or seem bothered, not that she cared if they were bothered. They marched through the brambles and underbrush towards the ruins proper.

Ruins that, now that they were closer, they could hear were occupied.

“You’re both twice as tall as me, but have HALF the bloody backbone!”

All three of them ducked, almost by reflex. Shadowheart looked back at them, listening to the argument taking place with one ear as she quietly whispered her orders.

“Sophia.” She pointed up, towards what might have once been a bell tower. “Can you reach that vantage?”

Sophia nodded.

“Do it, quietly.” The half elf demanded. “Astarion-” She pointed at a half cracked wall along the west side of the ruins.

For once, the pretty boy didn’t complain, navigating through the underbrush as Sophia shifted to her shadow state and leapt.

Her shadow form wasn’t immune to gravity, but she could absolutely rise, like a balloon being punted with a fist up into the air.

As she rose up she took cover ‘behind’ the stonework of the tower; looking to see who was occupying the ruins.

She counted four people, three… Humans? Fuck if she could tell anymore if it was humans, Elves, Half elves, or the Pilsbury fucking dough boy.

Whatever, three humans and one short fuck. Gnome, Halfling, Dwarf or the Keebler cookie guy. 

“-dont know what that thing even is! I aint goin down there!” 

The shortstack smirked. "I'm telling you, it's a ship. A big ship," they emphasized, waving their hands with greater and greater enthusiasm, "and it's carrying the gods only know how much loot!" 

“I wouldn’t try, if I were you.”

Shadowheart’s voice made Sophia look down, shocked that the woman was marching forward. Why the fuck would you ask someone to get ready to ambush only to fuck up your own ambush?”

“STOP!” Shorty shouted at her, lips curled in a glower. “That’s Our ship, she-elf! Not yours.”

“You can certainly go down there if you want to die.” Shadowheart scoffed. “Can’t you smell it? The fumes on the wind? It's filled with poisonous vapors. You’ll likely die of disease long before you carry off any of your precious loot.”

“See!” the one that had been arguing with Keebler shouted. “I’ve been smellin’ something awful all day! That thing could be carrying the plague for all we know!”

Now, the short guy looked much much more unsure.

“W-well… in that case err-” He hesitated, then puffed himself up. “Alright, come on you lot! We’re leavin’ no point in gettin’ killed. Second worm gets the cheese and all that.”

“Second mouse gets the cheese,” someone corrected him.

“NOBODY’S GETTIN ANY DAMN CHEESE! NOW MOVE IT BEFORE WE BREATHE ANY MORE OF THIS CRAP!”

And just like that the four grabbed their shit and started marching fast as their feet could carry them.

She held to her hiding spot. Down below, Astarion did the same.

When they were finally gone, the Elf emerged first. “My my. How polite of you. And here I was hoping to decorate the ground with their innards.” He said as Sophia descended.

Shadowheart shrugged. “Talking costs nothing. Arrows cost money.” She answered with a blase sort of carelessness before moving to march towards the Crypt entrance.

The heavy, rusted iron door was locked. 

“Oh for a skeleton key.” Astarion bemoaned, before he reached into a satchel, pulling free what looked like lockpicking pins.

Sophia shifted into her breaker state and passed through the door.

The other side was dark, she could barely see, with slivers of light slipping through the cracks along the ceiling and wall.

This looked like a… dining space? There was a long table and some cobweb covered chairs.

She shrugged. Whatever it was, it was empty.

With a clack of a heavy iron bolt being opened- She pulled the iron door and it creaked and screeched loudly as it moved on rusted hinges.

Astarion and Shadowheart stared at her as the portal was pried open. 

The pale elf sniffed, packing up his tools. “Show off.”

She smirked. 

—

Durge

Taylor’s body struck with what others would call a sickening thud, her full weight crashing into the carapace wall that was now a pseudo floor about fifteen feet down in the other room. 

“There!” Gale barked and Durge’s head snapped towards where the Wizard was aiming his light, finding one brain amidst the jars pulsing with the eerie pink-purple glow of psionic activity.

Lae’zel snarled, drawing her blade and marching forward, no doubt to cleave brain and jar.

Gale stopped her before Durge himself could, reaching and grabbing hold of the Gith’s wrist. “No! The backlash might cause even more damage.”

“You do not respond to an attack with passivity, Mage!” Lae’zel snarled.

Gale shook his head. “Durge, check her while I get this thing on the plinth.”

For a moment, Durge felt a genuine instance of… hesitation? Indecision?

Like Lae’zel, his instinct was to attack, to strike back. 

Concern was not his reflex, helping was not how he acted.

Then, the indecision passed, He leaped down, the fall giving his insides a strange weightlessness from the fifteen foot drop; digitigrade feet crunching into the cartilage before he ran over to her.

It was now that he noticed the increased agitation of the insects beginning to swarm around them as blood oozed out of Taylor’s nose.

“Taylor!”

—

Sophia

They searched the ruins thoroughly- though honestly they didn’t find much.

Sophia supposed it made sense, these rooms would have already been looted by Keebler and his chucklefuck collective.

She was fairly sure this was just gonna be one giant waste of time-

But then, Shadowheart detected a small, hidden switch behind a false statue.

When a false wall opened up, Sophia wondered if maybe, just maybe; the thrill she felt was like the Geolo-whatever when they found dinosaur bones or something. 

As soon as the passage opened Astarion gingerly moved forward, looking around the corner.

Sophia saw him smile, showing a hint of fang.

“What is it?” Shadowheart asked.

The pale elf sauntered forward, out of sight for just a second- before marching back out holding a solid gold candlestand. 

“I think we’ve found the part of these ruins as of yet untouched.” His chuckle was low in his chest. 

Shadowheart made a satisfied sound. “Good. Still, keep your guard up, never know what might be crawling in these ruins.”

“What?” She snorted. “Dead guys are gonna crawl out of their tombs?”

Shadowheart raised an eyebrow and her response was completely, dead ass serious. “They don’t where you’re from?”

Sophia snorted. “Funny.” She answered drily.

—

Gale

He shoved the first brain that had been placed on the plinth, off with no delicacy or care; the First brain’s Elvish speak being abruptly cut off as the jar hit and bounced off the floor, rolling down the sharp incline as he planted the psionically active brain onto the Plinth. 

He saw the thing activate with a pulse and Gale spoke quickly.

“Cease your attack! Or you will be destroyed now I promise you”

H’chaka iztik. Bro’ku lir, Antaa”

He did not recognize the language.

But Lae’zel did.

“It is Gith!” The woman balked.

“Can you speak to him?!” Gale barked. “Tell him to stop attacking her!

Lae’zel nodded the mage listened to the rapidfire exchange, watching Lae’zel’s expressions carefully.

It was not looking promising. 

“GALE!” Durge roared somewhere below them.

“We’re working on it!” He answered back.

—

Shadowheart:

The hidden section of the ruins was rife with loot.

Gold candlesticks, silver goblets, occupied tombs and crips with jeweled occupants.

By her count, they had enough potential gold here for at least two or three weeks worth of supplies, even after purchasing full camping gear and equipment for everyone to have an individual tent. 

Overall, not a bad haul, and perfectly… well… safe.

No traps, no shambling corpses, cursed chests or any of the horrible means of death or dismemberment so many found in tomb raids like this.

Though perhaps she should count lady Shar’s blessings when this place was well and truly seeing the back of them. Luck could always turn. 

As they entered the final crypt, there was a statue looming over the dead here, she peered up, squinting at the weatherworn statue that was so old its face was almost gone.

And yet… even as it was- she recognized this silent God.

“Jergal” She almost balked really. “I… I didn’t think anyone worshiped the scribe of the dead anymore.”

“What, he not important?” Sophia asked.

Shadowheart shook her head. “No, he absolutely is at least in our histories. It’s just…He’s a God who gave up his godhood to three others. He was one of the most powerful who willingly became a far lesser deity.”

Sophia looked at her “Why the fuck would anyone be that stupid? If you’re strong you’re strong. You don’t make yourself prey!” 

That was… a very specific wording…

Still to answer the question-

“No one really knows. There are many theories of course. But they all range really.”

Astarion grunted as he shoved the heavy lid of a sarcophagus off, exposing the bones within. “I personally enjoy the one where Jergal was bored. Immortality does have its downsides…” He laughed then, a little too high perhaps. Shadowheart assumed a spider crawled on him, seeing as he hastily dusted himself off. “-or so I assume.”

“That’s just fuckin stupid.” Sophia looked almost genuinely offended by the story. “The fuck was he the god of anyway!?”

“Death.” Shadowheart replied. “The dead three that usurped, or perhaps were given his power merely took individual aspects of what death is. Bhaal, the God of Murder, is of course, violent death. Myrkull, is the state of death itself, and Bane, the Dominance, or the inescapable Tyranny of death. For all things must die and end.” A truth Lady Shar professed and yet she never found common cause with Jergal, or Bane after him…

“And what the hell did the dumbass keep? Funeral arrangements?”

Shadowheart raised an eyebrow towards the girl. Honestly, why did she seem so genuinely angry at the story? 

“Jergal is said to be Ao’s… scribe. His record keeper. Ao is the supreme Overgod.”

Sophia boggled, her whole face twisting up like she couldn’t quite rid herself of the taste of something utterly disgusting. “So he just turned himself into a fucking waterboy!?”

“Why are you so-”

“Nice as this theological history lesson is-” Astarion interrupted with an irritated look. “Would either of you bloody well start helping!?” He demanded as he tried to open another sarcophagus. “They sealed this bloody bastard like he was going to go out for a party as soon as they turned their backs on him.”

Sophia turned and marched over, Shadowheart following, her half voiced question falling by the wayside. 

But still as they went through each tomb one by one and shattered the skulls of the dead within… just to be safe, Shadowheart couldn’t help but take note of the room.

Specifically its layout, behind the statue.

“There’s another room.” She said.

Astarion paused, blinking. “Beg Pardon?” 

“Look at the layout.” She said. “I know places of worship. There’s another chamber behind this statue!” 

The pale elf turned his head, eying Jergal’s silent visage. “Perhaps…” he conceded cautiously. “I can only imagine the one entombed there would have quite the riches buried with him.

“Sophia.” Shadowheart called. “Use that ability of yours, Phase through the walls. If there’s danger on the other side, come back. But if there isn’t, there should be something, some mechanism to open a false wall or move the statue.”

The human girl looked dubious, but quickly shifted into that shadow state and walked right on through Jergal’s statue.

—

Sophia

Clear on the other side of the wall, Sophia found, very quickly that in spite of her incredulity, there was indeed another chamber here, with a grand, ornate sarcophagus hidden behind the dumbass God’s statue.

Her body became solid again, and she started looking around, searching for some doorway.

She took a single step.

And the Sarcophagus glowed green.

Sophia knew enough protocols and training regarding “unknown powers”. She didn’t hesitate.

She shifted back into her breaker state and booked it to the other side of the wall.

“What happened!?” Shadowheart demanded as soon as she returned to corporeality. 

“Weird glowy shit! I wasn’t stickin’ around to find ou-”

There was a sound then, something loud and sharp, it bounced between the walls with an echo.

And then, the slow grinding of stone against stone.

Shadowheart took hold of her mace and shield, Astarion nocked an arrow onto his bowstring and unfamiliar with the weapon though she might be, Sophia did exactly the same.

The corpse that marched out of the shadows, didn’t seem threatened in the least.

“Fuck you were serious about dead shit trying to kill us here?” She hissed.

“Why on earth would you think I was joking!?”

“Focus!” Astarion snapped. 

The silver eyes of the walking dead guy almost glowed as they passed over each of them. He had heavy purple robes that hung loose on his literally skeletal frame. His skin was dried like leather and wrinkled. 

But those silver eyes had intelligence there.

And then, those eyes paused… on Sophia.

“Hmmm…” The sound that fuckin’ Crypt Keeper mascot made was something she’d almost call curious. 

She didn’t give it a chance to strike.

She let loose the arrow she’d nocked, the projectile sailing straight and true.

She heard it, she saw it pierce straight through the things right eye-

And… nothing. It was like her whole brain glitched. A stutter in her vision. One second there was a wound there, in the next, gold dust was fading away where her arrow had been and the walking corpse was perfectly fine.

“You should not be in this realm, Sophia Hess.”

…

Okay… she was officially freaked out now.

—

Lae’zel

“My blade is not of silver but it will cleave your brain meat open hshar'lak”

“Fifteen hundred years, servant of Vlakith. That is how long Antaa of Girehain, has existed in this cursed state. Prisoner, plaything of Ghaik. Your offer to bring this cursed life to an end is a welcome one. A human is not an ideal vessel, but I refuse to be trapped here a moment longer”

The young raider snarled, teeth bared, fingers tight over the leather of her blade grip. 

Death was usually a sufficient threat, and its delivery a proper vengeance for failure to meet her demands as listed. 

She was unused to this- where it was welcome and its application academic at best.

“Lae’zel?” The Wizard’s barked question carried an urgency she vaguely felt in her own mind. 

She glanced at him and decided to explain, perhaps his magic would have a more elegant answer.

“It is a Githzherai, a hshar'lak! A traitor to Vlakith. Trapped here by the Ghaik. He’s burning out her mind- use her as a meat puppet!”

Gale looked grim, then for some reason… he smirked. 

“Inform our trapped friend that she is infected.”

Lae’zel’s mind blanked. 

She was a blasted fool.

Even a cursed hshar'lak, filthy traitors one and all would never choose becoming Illithid, regardless of circumstance.

She moved to say exactly that- when she felt the psionic attention shift, as though the hshar'lak turned away.

She heard the faintest whisper of his thoughts brush across hers.

‘What is that!?’

—

Antaa

The Human’s mind was… chaos. A kaleidoscope of color, sensation, memory and feeling. Nothing like the organized, perfected weapon that was a Gith’s mind. 

She had will, yes and was already, impressively trying to fight his invasion if only subconsciously, but there were no defenses here. There as no direction. No discipline. 

Shriving clean her mind would be an exercise of minutes at the most generous estimates. Likely seconds, even with the distraction that a sliver of his consciousness was undergoing in conversing with the slave of Vlaakith. 

But then, he sensed something.

Something moved.

Before his capture well over a millenia ago, Antaa was an Anarch, one of the greatest. A master of the ultimate Githzerai arts of body, mind, and spirit. He had walked myriad paths during his long life. Poet, philosopher, teacher, warrior. 

His psionic might had been such that he could reshape the raw chaotic matter of Limbo through nothing but sheer force of will. It had taken an army of Ghaik to subdue him. Forever may they be cursed.

And as his mind began to perceive this thing, this… intruder that should not be… he did not recognize it.  He could not even fully comprehend its enormity.

What is that!?

And then this creature, this vast, unknowable, unnamable thing struck

He perceived only one thing. One statement.

[Acquiring. Data.]

Antaam screamed-

—

“HANDS! UPON HANDS! UPON HANDS! AAAAARGH!”

The howl of the hshar'lak ripped through their minds like an irresistible typhoon.

It was agony. It was fear. It was terror and madness and helplessness and all things no Gith would ever voice. And yet he screamed it as though incapable of doing anything less.

Lae’zel reeled, as if the psionic scream was a physical force, throwing her back. She felt warm blood trickling down her lip, the Wizard threw himself in front of her, the magic barrier he conjured barely blunting the raw storm of screeching agony.

The Tadpoles pulsed, and images unnameable passed through her mind too quickly to truly see, but she understood.

The hshar'lak’s mind was being rent asunder even as he tried desperately to fight back against something to which a fight was hopeless

The purple pink haze of psionic energy coated the inside of the jar, swirling and churning like a whirlpool. The light was almost luminous, like a jar of fireflies blazing brightly in the night.

And then, as quickly as it began… It was over.

The brain, once pink and still living, preserved… was cold and grey. A floating lump of meat in a jar.

Dead.

The Wizard straightened, lowering his staff with the hesitance of one expecting another attack. “Durge!” He shouted, still not daring to take his eyes off of the jar. “Give us a status update on Hebert!”

“She breathes.” The pale Dragonborn called from down below. “Wether her mind is still her own I can’t say.”

Lae’zel got to her feet again, wiping the blood from her lip, feeling it oozing down from her nostrils. 

She marched towards the edge of the opening they’d hacked into the Nautiloid to get in here, peering down towards the little human lying limply in the Dragonborn’s arms and wondered… if the girl was somehow already Illithid.

I said there wasn't gonna be another update this week because I was on a trip and the instant I open my mouth, the bug bites me and I'm cranking out 8 pages in an hour and my editor is magically available to make it all legible.

I hate you people. This is all your fault!But I'm serious now. No more updates this week...You'll be getting Zoltraak's update tomorrow or monday. Ya greedy fuckin gluttons!

Now get out! Before you glue me to this keyboard!