2.3 Acclimatization (Patreon)

2.3 Acclimatization

Durge:

They remained on the Nautiloid, even after the attack. Even though Taylor did not wake up.

They didn’t have time to double back twice, and Durge did not trust the others to not miss something.

Lae’zel was a creature of directness, not stupid but hasty. Subtleties were often lost on her in that haste. And Gale was as all Wizards were, head in the clouds with lofty thoughts more often than not.

No, he could not leave the task to them. Nor could he entrust them with Hebert’s transportation back to the Grove. Gale, for all of his… Wizardly mannerisms was intelligent. He was needed here to potentially catch or give new perspective to something they learned.

And Durge was not blind to the fresh suspicion Lae’zel eyed Hebert with now. For all that Shadowheart had called him too trusting - he knew the kind of creature a Gith was at heart. 

And so they stayed.

Gale formed a Simulacrum to watch over the girl as Durge deposited her in the shade under a tree on the beach. Durge himself placed a handful of warning runes around her that would alert him if danger approached.

And then they returned to the Nautiloid and its prisoners.

Like the Mindflayers that had kept them, Durge, Gale and Lae’zel interrogated each of the brains as best they could.

He’d delved into the folds of their minds with the Tadpole, much to Lae’zel’s open disgust. Gale did not have her hangups however, and assisted. 

Most had been driven mad by their long imprisonment. Gibbering, howling voices that screamed forever even when nothing could hear them. But some did hold useful information.

Lae’zel paced and listened in, her agitation clear, but disgust or not she knew the value of information and she was not so foolish as to allow it to be filtered.

The pickled brains  whispered of The Absolute’s Chosen, warned of the Illithid empire seeding tadpoles unseen by the thousands to activate all at once, screamed of the Grand Design come again..

Any one of those things was dangerous in the extreme. All of them… well…

If Ceremorphosis was being hidden, tadpoles infecting hundreds or thousands across Faerun, turning one and all into Mindflayer sleeper agents, or more accurately bombs, to be set off all at once…

The ensuing chaos, the carnage…It would spread across the whole of the Sword Coast, and then the continent.

If they weren’t limited to one single plane, which given what this Nautiloid had done they weren’t- then how far would the casualties spread? Thousands? Millions? Billions?

The thought made a tingle run down his spine. And much to his quiet curiosity it was not one of fear, but anticipation.

Concerning. Was the tadpole already influencing his mind? Making him wish for such an outcome?

… 

Gale stepped closer, distracting him from his introspection. The Wizard’s face looked grim. “What?” Durge demanded.

“Let us compare notes,” the man said. “Because I have no doubt you find these revelations as disturbing as I do.”

Durge frowned, feeling his tail thump once against the floor hard in an agitation. Gale took it as confirmation.

“They’re quietly infecting entire populations,” he offered.

“They; or more specifically ‘The Absolute.’” Gale nodded. We don’t know what it is, but given our knowledge of the ecology and life cycle of Mindflayers- an Elderbrain, or several.”

“Tsk’va,” Lae’zel spat , her teeth bared in a snarl, eyes shining like amber daggers. Durge noticed the way her nails dug into the flesh of her arm. She was agitated, but there was a very real fear there too.

Durge tried to remember, tried to recall what he knew of Elderbrains. His memories were a fog. Muddied and unclear.

“What do you know about Elderbrains?” he asked. The question was directed at Gale but he quickly amended that as he turned towards Lae’zel. “Both of you.”

“Elderbrains are not easy subjects to study, so the texts were never clear,” Gale said. “But they are powerful. While they do not use magic their psionic might more than makes up for it.”

“Not untrue but only half the tale,” Lae’zel sneered. “The Tir’su scripts in our libraries know that the psionic strength of Elderbrains is on the level of Gods. A single Elderbrain can telepathically control hundreds, even thousands of lesser minds. They hold millenia of accumulated knowledge.”

Now she turned to look at Gale. “And any mage who thinks they cannot cast spells is a fool. Through pure psionic power they can absolutely conjure magical effects like sundering gravity, shifting between planes, or even ripping open gates to allow thousands of their kind to fight alongside them in a moment through nothing but will.”

“They are not unkillable.” Durge reminded her. “Your people hunted their kind to near extinction.”

Lae’zel’s vicious smile was all satisfaction and fangs. “Yes.” But that smile died quickly, a severe frown replacing it. “There is one advantage however, insurmountable in our current circumstances.”

“Their control of the Tadpoles,” Gale surmised. 

“Not just.” Lae’zel cringed, as though the realization that there were evidently two insurmountable advantages was a personal insult. “The elderbrains are living archives. They can absorb all things of their victims. Memories, skills, experience. Any plan we might come up with, it will already know through these Ghaik parasites… As things stand, it is near omniscient to anything that we do or would do.”

They fell into silence at that. “The Goblins were calling out its name at the gate,” Gale suddenly said. “Proclaiming it to be a God. Ergo, for the sake of argument- What if it is a God?”

If looks could kill, Lae’zel would have left the Wizard a purple puddle on the floor. “No.” She hissed very, very dangerously.

Gale pressed on, heedless. “Nascent Gods are rare but they are not unknown. If there is someone who has taken these tadpoles to artificially build himself enough worshipers to ascend to Godhood, we are dealing with an entirely different kind of threat before and after ascension."

Lae’zel opened her mouth ready to contest, possibly violently so-

“Enough!” Durge snapped before the argument could escalate.

“Our circumstances have not changed,” he said. “We’ve found a reason for our infection, the name of the one ultimately responsible, but things have not changed.Our goal remains a cure. Everything else comes after.”

“On that front…” Gale paused, lips pursing, the gears turning. “I agree, and there is some level of potential good news.”

Durge nodded. “Say it then.”

“The Goblins.” Gale said. “If they are indeed ‘worshiping’ the Absolute, then it is very possible that their leaders, Chieftains, Shamans and so on. They’ve been infected, being used to turn the Goblins to the Absolute’s worship.”

“And how does that help?” Lae’zel demanded.

“Well it-”

“It gives us access to more tadpoles,” Durge cut in. He did so partly to avoid Gale pontificating and hesitating, and partly to show Gale that he wasn’t the only one who could make quick deductions on someone’s train of thought. “Ones infecting acceptable targets,” he added. “Theoretically, after we kill them we can simply crack open their skulls and examine the magic coating the creatures ourselves. Gale is hoping that from there he can devise a cure.”

The Wizard winced. “I… You don’t have to call them acceptable targets!”

Durge shrugged. 

Lae’zel eyed the wizard appreciatively. “I didn’t think you had the stomach, Wizard. Ruthless. Good.”

Gale looked at the two of them with an utter deadpan expression. “You’re both horrible.”

That made Durge smile. 

“Come,” he demanded. “We’ve lingered too long here. Hebert needs treatment. We must reach Nettie or Shadowheart.”

“We should end her.”

Durge closed his eyes, taking a very deep, very slow breath, even as he ducked through the slack muscles of one of the nautiloid’s doorways.

“Why in Mystra’s name would you say that!?” Gale sounded predictably horrified. 

“Her psionic power.” Lae’zel answered blithely. “It is far greater than it has any right to be. No child, let alone one such as her and her ilk could ever defeat an Anarch of the Githzerai. Even a full Mindflayer could not. And yet she did… easily. She is turning, or is on the cusp of it.”

“You cannot be serious. Given what I know of your culture, if the girl hadn’t defended herself  you would have called her weak and deserving of her fate. Now that she successfully has, she is too dangerous!?” Gale argued behind him.

“Chk. You saw the psionic storm. Only a Ghaik could do such. If you do not have the stomach for it I will deal with it myself once we reach her.”

Durge took one step, two, waited, hearing Lae’zel pass through the fleshy orifice behind him.

Then he rounded on her.

She was still half ducking, off balance, not expecting it.

Likely that was the only reason she didn’t react in time to cleave his hand clean off.

As it was, his left hand wrapped around her throat, and the right grabbed hold of her sword, stopping her from drawing it as he slammed it back down into its scabbard with a crack and choke-slammed her into the fleshy wall at her back, hard.

“Allow me to make something perfectly clear.” Durge said; the lightning that crackled along his knuckles made Lae’zel go still, acutely aware that he could send a bolt of piercing electricity clear through her neck before she had a chance to do anything.

And he would too, because of all of them, he knew that Lae’zel was extremely dangerous.

He ignored Gale, hesitating at the doorway as Lae’zel growled at him. 

“The very first night you joined us, you said that should a single tentacle split my skull, you would not hesitate to end me.” He let himself smile, a smile that he knew was vicious and terrible to behold. So very many screamed their final scream just after they saw it. “I allowed such, because it was fair. Ceremorphosis is to be avoided.”

He let one claw rake down the side of her throat, near her carotid, or the Gith equivalent. He was careful not to break the skin but she certainly felt it.

“But if every time one of us defends ourselves in a way you don’t like- you jump to eliminating us in our sleep… Hmmm.”

He leaned close, close enough to whisper. "I’ll make certain that you’ll be reaching Vlakith long before your prayers do.” 

He pulled away, just in time for Gale to straighten up from where he’d quietly passed through the doorway, looking as though he was contemplating getting between them.

Durge paid him no mind, staring down at the much smaller Gith woman. “If it's any consolation. The offer to let you split our skulls should a single tentacle crack through… stands. But not a moment before.”

She glowered and the muscles of her body bunched up like she was ready to pounce. 

Lightning crackled across his fingers, dancing along her throat in a way that made her whole body seize and stiffen if only for a second. “Have I made myself clear?” 

She glared at him, and without further hesitation he used the tadpole.

A pulse, his mind crashed into hers, he let her see that he was serious. He would kill her if he needed to.

From her mind, he saw her anger warring with her pragmatism. She knew he had her dead to rights. Surrender was a disgusting notion. But if she gave her word, she would keep it.

“You’d best begin warming to that notion very very quickly,“ he warned, and after examining her thoughts a moment longer carefully released his hold on her neck and sword, watching her for any sudden movements.

“Besides.” He continued, going so far as to straighten to his full height and place his hands behind his back, which he knew only further enraged her. “Before you go waving that blade you should consider a very real possibility.”

“And what is that?” she snarled. 

“That if we are indeed fighting an Elderbrain, having a psionically powerful individual such as herself might be very necessary.”

“Yes.” Lae’zel conceded. “If she is not an Illithid thrall in its service already.”

Durge shrugged. “If has turned that quickly, then we’re as good as dead anyway.”

—

By the time they fully left the Nautiloid and he collected Taylor the sun was already falling once more. Orange and purple fire blanketed the skies above.

He carried Taylor and kept Lae’zel in front of him. Gale led the way, his staff bathed in pale magelight as they marched up the beach.

It was an easy walk for now. They could risk the hills and crags tomorrow morning at first light. Slipping and breaking their necks or limbs could be just as dangerous as any Goblin sword. 

But as the sun fell beneath the distant horizon; he spotted something in the hills.

A glimmer of firelight… and smoke.“Gale, Lae’zel.” He gestured with his chin towards the spot in the hills above.

Gale squinted, and Durge remembered that, Wizard or not, humans were not gifted with any decent form of night vision.

Lae’zel, however, spotted it immediately.  “I see it,” she sneered, drawing her blade as she moved to march up the hill.

“Not everything needs to end in violence,” Gale chastised.

Lae’zel ignored him.

Durge adjusted his grip on Hebert, trying to maneuver to keep at least one hand comfortably free, just in case they did need to fight.

Gale followed after Lae’zel, dimming his Magelight to little more than a candleflame, and Durge followed behind him. 

They were cautious as they approached, but they needn’t have bothered.

“Oh my. Ruffians, ne’re do wells in the night! To arms! We are attacked.” Astarion called and Durge turned, surprised to see the pale elf emerging from a shadowed alcove beneath a hanging rock.

“That isn’t funny.” Shadowheart complained, marching over with mace and shield in hand, her eyes widening as she caught sight of Taylor. “What happened?”

Lae’zel sheathed her blade, walking past and towards the campfire as Durge answered. “Psionic attack.”

“Gale, give me a light,” she demanded

The Wizard’s Magelight obliginglybloomed back to its full brilliance, letting Shadowheart examine Taylor’s eyes, pulse and other vitals as she passed a hand over the girl’s flesh.

Sophia finally came close, snorting as she caught sight of Hebert. 

If he had to ‘intervene’ to stop another attempted murder today, there was going to be a murder!

“She’s breathing, heart rate is strong.” Shadowheart said

“It’s her mind we’re more concerned about.” Gale specified. “We found a… pickled brain, a prisoner of the Mindflayers. He tried to attack her. In truth, he was trying to take control of her body completely, to escape his prison.”

Durge began to march past them, towards the campfire.

“Tried?” He heard Astarion ask behind him.

“She fought him off, at least as far as we can tell. But we’re unsure as to the extent of the damage.”

As he made his way past the underbrush he saw Lae’zel staring across the clearing towards-

“Oh, what the hell is this!?”  Durge snapped.

The corpse with pale silver eyes stared at him, blinking languidly before he turned his eyes towards the girl still in his arms.

—

Sophia

It took a while to get everyone caught up on each group's respective “adventures,” and to introduce the walking corpse that called himself ‘Withers’. Fucking Crypt Keeper wannabe still freaked her out. He knew her name, knew she shouldn’t be here, he kept saying “The two of you” whenever he was speaking to her which was weird in and of itself, and every part of her instincts told her to stay away from him.

Food was scarce, little more than jerky that was as dry as fucking bone face over there, and a few sips of water. Before the others had arrived the twink had volunteered to take the first watch and he did it again now. She wasn’t tired, and so she said she would stay up.

Fucking Lizard breath had stared at her, a look that told her he knew exactly what she was thinking. She resisted the urge to flip him the bird, though it was a close thing.

But he didn’t say a word, simply went off to sleep beside the campfire along with Lae’zel, Shadowheart and Gale. 

Sophia sat alone in the dark, waiting in the shadowed hollow of a half dead tree that served as a half decent seat with all the moss, grass and soft earth at its base. 

She didn’t look at them, didn’t even look at Hebert, not until she was sure they were asleep.

Finally, when she was sure, she glanced at twiggy clear across the camp. She was laying down flat, bundled up in what blankets could be spared. She looked half dead already.

Sophia stood up, beginning to make her way over. 

“Careful.” The twink called from behind her in that tone that he probably thought sounded cool, fucking Jack Slash wannabe. “I won't stop you from doing anything hilarious, but I sure as hell won't be taking the blame for it either. Everyone will know exactly who did it.”

She turned, looking over her shoulder at the smugly smirking twink. Her eyes narrowed, realizing then that she could trust the fuck about as far as Hebert could trust Sophia herself.

He was someone to watch… or get rid of. 

“Shut the fuck up,” she hissed under her breath, marching forward regardless.

She knelt at the girl’s side, The switchblade in her pocket was heavy.

Hebert had offered her a deal just a day and a half ago. 

No bugs to kill her in her sleep, and Sophia wouldn’t try the same. They’d read each other’s minds every night to make sure, and when the tadpoles were finally out, and Hebert couldn’t fuck with her power anymore- they’d have at it, and one of them wasn’t gonna walk away.

It was a deal that worked out in her favor, really. As long as Hebert could fuck with her power then the twiggy bitch had a leg up, Sophia effectively powerless and Hebert with her bugs, even a pathetic bitch like her couldn’t throw a fight that hard.

So she’d said yes. 

And now here she was, less than a day later with the perfect opportunity to just fast forward to the end result now.

“Dumb bitch,” she muttered under her breath, reaching into her pocket. She pulled her knife out, fiddling with it in her hands.

Unbidden, the image of the knife shifted in her hands, replaced by a flute she’d beaten to hell and back against the pavement til it was little more than mangled scrap. 

Her heart twisted in her chest. Not her own feeling, the memory of it, the moment she realized she’d lost her mother’s flute. The rage and hate s Emma and Sophia laughed.

Sophia snarled, gritting her teeth, beginning to pace.

She closed her eyes.

Just do it. Just… get it over with.

She could imagine it in her mind's eye, a slash across the neck, Hebert wouldn’t even feel it. A fountain of red pooling on the floor, coating Sophia’s hands it would-

Her eyes snapped open- and Withers was staring directly at her, Sophia’s knife in his hand. 

“No.”

“What the fuck!?” Sophia shouted, practically leaping back from the dead man who held up her knife and made it vanish into gold dust. 

“Where matters of Balance are concerned, I am bidden to act. The two of ye threaten that balance.”

“What the fuck are you talking about!” she shouted, and distantly, recognized that none of the others had woken up, even with the noise.

“Hmmm… Not unlike the Urge. Hmmm… Very well.” The Corpse man nodded, practically speaking to himself now.

He held up his hand. “Be silent.”

His fingers grasped at something only he could see. 

It was like the invisible hammer of a gun cracked down, the bullet going off somewhere in the back of her mind.

No one, not even Astarion, could have said when Sophia reached her bedroll and fell asleep.

—

Withers

The scribe walked through the shadowed forest. Listening to the song of its nightly creatures.

He peered up, past the trees, past the moon and the stars; silver eyes peering into places others could never see.

The Administrator stared back.

[Gratitude]

“It was not done for thee.” He said. “My purpose bid me intervene.”

The being hesitated. 

[Query] [Uncertainty] [Data] [Exchange]

The scribe blinked slowly. 

“Not yet.” He finally answered after a long interminable silence. “You have enough to parse through already, I think.”

…

[Confirmation.]

If anyone had been close enough to notice, they might have seen Taylor’s eyes moving beneath her eyelids, fingers twitching under the blankets. 

—

Durge

Taylor did not wake up the next morning.

She did not look any worse, but she did not look better, either.

Most of the others woke at the crack of dawn as expected.

Sophia, however…

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

Shadowheart’s concern wasn’t unwarranted. Sophia looked dazed, as though she’d taken a heavy blow to the head. She blinked at the half elf, as though her brain was trying to connect the dots on who she was looking at.

“I’m fine.” 

Shadowheart tossed him a look, concerned, Durge shook his head. 

“Let's go back to the Grove.” He decided. “We can take stock and consult with Nettie there.”

She frowned, but said nothing. Likely lacking any better idea.

So they walked.

He carried Taylor again, navigating through the rocky crags and then the forest.

The Grove was only a few hours away.

When he arrived all he wanted, genuinely, was to reach Nettie, have a bath, perhaps some food, and decide their next move.

So of course, there had to be a Tiefling woman standing atop the gate who waved frantically as they approached.

He had a very annoyed feeling.

It was warranted.

“Oh thank goodness, you’re here.” The woman, who he’d find out later was named Alfira, looked genuinely relieved.

“What’s happened?” Gale called up to her.

“We’re not sure, but we believe your companion, Miss Barnes, has been cursed.”

Durge was absolutely without a doubt, going to kill someone today!

(X)(X)(X)

Thank goodness the team has such a stable, infinitely patient and not at all murderous hand at the helm to lead them through these troubled times :)