Fandom Baldur's Gate: Cruel Dues [Closed]

[Lucyfer]

The first day Gale stepped out of his depression den to head to Baldur’s Gate and Sorcerous Sundries, he found himself picked up by an illithid nautiloid and infected with a mind flayer tadpole. Then, his only thought had been that the mind flayers had sealed their own fate – and his. When he turned into a mind flayer, the netherese orb in his chest was likely to destabilize and explode, taking all the mind flayers with him.

That was one solace.

And then the ship was attacked. Gale saw others escape their pods and run by, but he was left to save himself. Gale only just got out of his pod when the ship cracked underneath his feet, and the wizard went tumbling out of ship and towards a very unforgiving looking ground.

What was a wizard to do? Perhaps he should have cast feather fall, or even fly! Those spells would have prevented him from his current predicament. Instead, the Wizard of Waterdeep spied a glimmer where he was going to land and burst into bloody viscera, and recognized the magic. He reached out to the Weave, and realized too late what it was.

He’d found a waypoint.

And the waypoint grabbed him, but as it couldn’t transport him to another location, it pulled him into the other side which wasn’t exactly ideal. The area hummed with magic, but it was rather like another dimension, and Gale didn’t know the way out of it. He turned his head this way and that, but couldn’t quite figure what way to go; everything was just a sea of black and purple energy swirling together, with the occasional chunk of stone.

‘Stone.’

That was it.

He took a breath, and focused on the stone, something of the material plane, to try and make a passage back to it from there.

Indeed, he was able to form a portal as he spoke a few words to tame the Weave. He approached that portal, and hesitantly stuck his hand out to make sure he wasn’t going to throw his whole body into an inferno or some other rather unfortunate location.

He felt cool air on his hand, and tried to go through further – but he couldn’t! It seemed that as soon as he stuck his hand through the portal, it was like he was suddenly no longer standing on solid ground. He had no momentum to push himself through, and his hand couldn’t grasp anything to pull himself out.

“Oh – well – come on!” he knew he was talking to himself, but he wasn’t able to go through! His hand waved in the air at nothing, opened and closed, and grasped only air. “Oh, this isn’t good.”

“Mr. Dekarios! Is that you?”

He heard a familiar voice on the other side. “Tara? Is that you? No, that can’t be you, because I made you promise not to leave Waterdeep, and you agreed.”

There was a pause, perhaps as Tara considered how to respond.

“You never specified a time frame, Mr. Dekarios. And it looks like I was right to leave! Stay there. I will find help for you,” he could imagine her walking away, tail twitching side to side as she went about her mission, but he was unable to see it. He slumped on his side, sighed.

Laughed.

Relieved, in a strange way.

He could trust Tara to find help for him.



And Tara did indeed find another laying out on the beach, a blonde woman who all but tingled with the Weave. That did indeed seem like someone who would be able to help Mr. Dekarios! If only she were awake! Tara approached, humming to herself – though it likely sounded like purring to anyone who couldn’t speak with animals. She considered slicing the woman’s cheek, but understood such violence would not do well, so instead, she opted to nuzzle the woman’s cheek and start licking to try and bring her around.

Someone who understood the Weave would be able to help tame the portal and get Gale out, she was certain!

~***~

Pain.

It was all that the tiefling knew, radiating from her head, from her bones, from every inch of flesh. It was the first signifier that she was alive, and other senses followed – her cheek was wet. No, most of her body was wet, and it wasn’t blood. ‘Ugh.’ The woman couldn’t remember anything about why she would be wet as she opened her eyes and lifted herself up with her hands, looking around for clues.

Mud. It was raining.

Debris – that looked like living flesh? And a strange pod? ‘I was in that, wasn’t I?’ In truth, she couldn’t remember, but it seemed familiar as she sat up on her knees and reached out to touch the pod, its door broken and swung open, on its side.

It looked like she had spilled out of it, and rolled into the mud.

Why was she in it?

What even was it?

An attempt to remember only made her head ache more and she reached up, tangling a muddy hand in her loose white hair. She shut her eyes to block out the sensations of the falling rain, and try to remember…anything.

“Myna,” she murmured it more to herself, one thing she could grasp as belonging to herself, as a memory. Her name.

‘But what else?’

She swallowed, and memories swam forward, but they were messy. Bodies, endless bodies. A mind flayer. A medical slab.

Myna winced as her head throbbed with a phantom pain, and a certainty: someone did this to her. Someone stripped her of memory and her wits, and she was going to find them, and rip their intestines up through their mouth.

That thought felt…nice.

Warm.

Let warm intestines steaming between her fingers.

‘What? No, no, no.’ She shook her head as she used the strange pod to get upright, the blood upon it her own. She took note of it, and saw the wound on her abdomen, messy, likely from...well, she had no idea. The mud certainly wasn't helping make anything clear, and she could only sigh. The clothing gave her no clues to herself, either. ‘I should find a river, or a road, and follow it.’ A song came to mind as she thought of rivers, tracing a faint smile on her lips as she tried to look for signs of one.

No river, but she did see a road, she was just off to the side of it, and she stepped towards it intending to follow it, when a portal appeared. Two people that stepped through – a bald man with strange face paint – or was it tattoos? – and an older woman who’s greenery and entire disposition spoke of her being a druid. The woman dismissed the portal.

“Ah—could you—” Myna started.

“Tch!” The woman interrupted immediately, “do not let her speak, Minsc. She is like a harpy, all pretty words, all false. Slay the devil before she can twist your mind with her pretty little lies.”

“Dev—no, I’m a tiefling! I think,” shit. She wasn’t even sure about that as she took a step to get around the pod, as if that was enough of a barrier, “I don’t want a fight!” But gods, she craved a fight, to taste blood on her lips. Why? Was she a devil? No, no, she was certain she’d feel a lot more powerful and certain if she was a devil. That’s how devils were.

As if she’d ever met a devil to know that….

 

[cleopat]

Falling.

Falling.

Nothing.

Marisol swore that was the end of her life right there, before something slowed her descent to the ground, saving her body from a visceral impact. It was no magic of hers, that she knew, but she was unconscious before she could question what was going on.

Going on, on top of now having a tadpole in her brain.

How long was she out for?

The first thing she recognized was the salty smell of the sea, followed by the sound of the gentle lapping of waves.

The third thing she recognized was a rough tongue licking her cheek. She scrunched her nose in silent contemplation, soon realizing the purring she was hearing was from the cat licking her. What the…

Groaning, Marisol sat up, bringing a hand to her pounding head. The head that now had a tadpole in it. Parts of the nautiloid were all around her, but what was most peculiar was the cat walking away, but it kept glancing back at her. “Do you want me to follow you?”

And then the tressym, she realized, made a noise. “Well, I guess that’s a yes. Just give me a minute.”

She could’ve sworn she heard the tressym tell her to hurry up. But Marisol took her time, standing slowly and checking herself for any bruises or cuts. Surprisingly, nothing. “Alright then, lead the way.”

And that she did, much to Marisol’s amusement.

It wasn’t very far that the tressym led her, and Marisol wondered why exactly she was following this creature. What if it was a trap? What if it was leading her back to the mindflayers?

But she felt the energy before she saw the waypoint, something obviously off about it. And then…a hand came out. What? “Hello? A hand? Anyone?” A man somehow found himself trapped in a waypoint. That was…not something she encountered everyday.

“It seems that you already have a hand,” she said with slight bemusement. With a loud meow from the cat, she sighed and focused on the portal, channeling the Weave to help her calm the erratic portal enough for her to grab the hand and try to pull him out.

For all she knew, this was a murderer she was rescuing! But she pulled and pulled until the man came through.

~~~

If Enver hadn’t walked away then, he was certain the next servant who walked up to him would’ve met a slow ending by his hands. It started out as a decent day enough, but he should have heeded the warning from the gray clouds gathering in the sky before the heavens opened up and poured on him and his bodyguard that followed behind him.

He could strangle someone right then and there.

“This is a bust,” he muttered, moreso to himself than to the Banite guard with him. All he wanted was to clear his head.

And yet, the rain wasn’t the only thing fouling his mood that day.

“Yes! Minsc shall slay this devil for Jaheira!”

A loud commotion dared to interrupt his thoughts even further. He had half a mind to ignore them, or to send his bodyguard to slaughter them for disturbing the peace, if there could be such peace with the rain soiling everything, but with the amount of people that traveled the road, too many may witness his actions.

That would be too risky.

Instead, he opted for politics. The front people knew him best by. “What is the meaning of this dis-” he paused, eyes laying on the frightened tiefling. Enver almost didn’t even recognize her, because he never recalled such an expression on her face before.

But then the thought crossed his mind again.

Myna?

He thought she had…

And then her absence caused the migraine of Orin to grow in his head.

Oh how he wanted to take her right then! But with the people, and something not quite seeming right about her right there, he clenched one hand into a fist as he fought back at the anger at whatever caused her to be like this. Whatever those two fools of heroes were doing to her.

“This devil must be slayed!” roared Minsc, but he stopped the moment the Banite guard moved forward, his weapon at the ready.

“I hardly think that’s necessary,” drolled Enver. “That will be unnecessary blood shed on this…day.” He wanted to say ‘beautiful,’ but the only beautiful thing he could spot was his long lost Myna. “And besides, she is always a welcomed guest of mine here at Baldur’s Gate.”

 

[Lucyfer]

Gale heard the mew of Tara when he stuck his hand out again, her announcement that she had someone. Hopefully, someone who could help, though knowing Tara, she hadn’t told them anything. She knew common, and yet she insisted on always speaking in the tongue of the tressym, even when she knew other people didn’t understand it. Gale only understood it due to their connection as Mage and Familiar.

The response that came to his request made him chuckle, a little, “Well, I could use another hand, seeing as that’s all I can get out of this portal.” It seemed another hand was to arrive, as he felt the magic shifting about, “I don’t know what you’re doing, but it’s having an effect!” He couldn’t really see what she was doing, but thankfully, it did work.

The woman grabbed his hand, and with a couple of pulls, he was free from the other side of the waypoint, and back on his beloved Faerun. He staggered out of the portal, just barely managing to catch himself from toppling onto his savior. She looked to be a half-elf, and by the way the Weave wove around her, he’d bet money that she was a sorceress.

Or, if she wasn’t, she should have been.

Tara fluttered up then as he straightened out, and found a place to perch on his shoulder, “Thank you, Tara,” he greeted her with a scritch of her chin, before setting his eyes back on the woman with the blonde hair and noble bearing, “Hello, I’m Gale,” he greeted, “Apologies, I’m usually better at this.”

“You need to thank her,” Tara reminded him.

“Oh—right. Yes. Thank you,” Tara was good at reminding him of his manners, “But wait – didn’t I see you on that nautiloid? Were you also an unfortunate recipient of a new ocular guest? Well, I suppose a cranial guest, rather, it just made an ocular entry….”

“What?” Tara was surprised, not at all sure what had happened to Gale, but Gale didn’t respond to her immediate outcry, waiting for the answer from the woman in front of him, hoping his memory served and he had indeed seen her go by. Not that he’d been in any state to interact with her then.

He was lucky to get out of there alive at all, but he was sure he’d seen her pass by his pod.

~***~

Minsc? Jaheira?

Something in her blood felt cold fear when that first name was declared, every instinct locking into ‘flee’ at once, until another voice interrupted. Passerbys on the road, gold filigree adorning the black coat of one, while the obvious guard at his side moved to get between her and the strange attackers who thought she was a devil.

Recognition flickered in the eyes of the noble, but Myna felt no recognition for him, or the guard. Nothing at all, except the understanding he wasn’t about to immediately kill her, which was enough to inch towards the road and the guard while it seemed this Minsc paused to consider.

‘Jaheira’ was more than a little annoyed. Lady Orin had demanded they check the nautiloid debris, and if Myna was found, to execute her. Anyone, really, but Orin had been clear on Myna, so the doppler had taken the moron Minsc who believed her to be Jaheira to do the deed, as one of the few likely to stand up to Orin’s sister.

Enver Gortash was an unexpected complication.

Orin wanted the little tyrant dead – they all did – but could not do so yet.

So Jaheira scoffed, shifting her weight from one leg to the other, “Do not let this little tyrant get in the way, he has likely made some deal with that devil and doesn’t want his soul dragged down to one of the hells with her!” and she let her form shift easily into that of a panther, a form the druid frequented in combat, and one that would be able to leap over the Banite guard – which was precisely what she did, given Myna had gotten herself well behind them.

Myna managed to scurry back quick enough that the doppler landed on ground rather than sunk her claws into flesh, and her darting eyes were starting to regain a familiar lucidity – not for recognizing anyone, but for recognizing combat.

Recognizing a sharp stone.

The doppler lunged again, and Myna dove for the stone. Her hand found it as her body rolled to avoid the claws, but she stayed low and held the stone up near her face, daring the damned panther to try again as it stalked around her. For a moment, holding that stone, holding that gaze, Myna almost felt peace.

Almost felt silence from the gaping wound that was her memory. Her mind may not remember, but her body held memories, and this was familiar. Whatever she was, apparently violence was no stranger to her.

 

[cleopat]

Marisol raised a brow as she watched this man, Gale, as he introduced himself, followed by immediately putting it in pleasant terms of what had happened to her. And, apparently, him, which came at some sort of relief. Now she wasn’t alone in her condition, and maybe they could even figure out a cure together.

The tressym, who she now knew as Tara, was just too adorable. And able to communicate with Gale, she surmised. Not surprised between a mage and a familiar.

“Better at what, introductions?” she asked, amused. “It’s not everyday I pull men out of rocks.” Or, ever.

But Marisol straightened her posture at his next topic of conversation. “You were on the nautiloid as well? Then I do have questions as to how you ended up in that rock, but that can wait.” There were more important matters to discuss after all, as he mentioned. “Yes, I suppose you did see me there, though I apologize, I don’t recall seeing you.”

She was too busy trying to escape with her life.

“It’s nice to know that I am not alone in this unfortunate…cranial guest, as you put it.” Very eloquent way to put their misfortune. “Oh! My name’s Marisol Regenfall, of Baldur’s Gate.”

~~~

Gortash narrowed his eyes on Jaheira, doubt entering his mind as to who this truly was. Minsc…he believed that was Minsc. Only he could be quite as the imbecile that he was. But something pulled at his mind for Jaheira as she insisted they were all devils, or had a deal with one.

He would rather have them all dead than make another deal with one.

This Jaheira wasn’t going to give up, and Minsc readied his weapon to defeat ‘the evil.’ They weren’t going to stop by any pretty words he may offer, and so, he directed a command to his bodyguard, who silently nodded and braced himself with one arm up near his face.

“This is enough!” bellowed Enver, and in the next second, he threw a flash bomb to the ground that temporarily blinded anyone in the vicinity who wasn’t prepared for the light. Gortash and his guard were, of course. The others would have had no way of knowing that a bright light accompanying a loud sound would overstimulate their senses.

“I do not make deals with devils, I am the only one creating the deals, and you will cease this inane attack right now. It wouldn’t take long to summon one of my Steelwatchers, if you would rather deal with them?” No one did.

His gaze moved to Myna. His beloved Myna. “Myna is no devil here. She is my guest.”

 

[Lucyfer]

Gale chuckled a bit at Marisol’s query of what he was better at. Magic was the answer – sadly, he could not say he was always great at introductions. Quite the opposite, Elminster used to say he missed plenty of cues for proper ways to intrude on a group, but he wasn’t lacking for friends all the same.

Sadly, none of them were here, and he felt that the tadpole was interfering with his arcane knowledge. “No, I supposed you didn’t see me,” Gale said with a wane smile, “but that’s quite all right, in your predicament, I likely would not be stopping at every pod I saw just to investigate if its occupant was alive in there, either. I hold no grudge.”

She helped him here, after all, and he looked to Tara, “This woman and I unfortunately host mind flayer tadpoles. We’ll have to investigate getting rid of them.”

Tara did seem quite alarmed. “Mr. Dekarios! That is…that is…well, you are quite right. I suppose I cannot just claw it out.”

Gale shook his head, and listened as Marisol introduced herself.

“Baldur’s Gate? I was just on my way there from Waterdeep when I suffered this unfortunate abduction. I was on my way to Sorcerous Sundries, which would, admittedly, be a good stop even now. They may know what to do about our unfortunate guests,” he shifted, looking her over, “I can feel the Weave roiling around you. A sorceress, am I right? You wouldn’t happen to have some further insight into our misfortune, would you? Why we seem not to have a fever just yet, perhaps?” They ought to. Ceremorphis took seven days, but it did begin that first day.

He doubted it. This wasn’t the way the Weave moved around a learned practitioner, like a wizard, it was akin to one born with it, after all. That sometime meant study sat at the side for a bit.

~***~

The flashbang was entirely unexpected by the doppler and Myna, even if a part of her mind had considered something familiar in the way the guard moved. She held her position, but shut her eyes after they were already blinded, and tried to hear through the ringing as the panther roared against the sound and moved.

Not closer.

More towards Gortash, even if it was stumbling.

Myna forced herself to focus on that threat, and test opening her eyes. Her vision was still terribly blurred, but she could make out the panther. And make out as it started to shift back to its elf form, and rage at the politician. “You will be sorry for harboring such a fiend in Baldur’s Gate!” she yelled, “We will not abide it long, and there are places your Steelwatch cannot reach. She will venture there. You know it must.”

It? Now she was an it? There was meaning on that word, but Myna could not put it together as she stood, as Jaheira turned away and snapped open a portal. “Come, Minsc. Another time. We will not let this fiend’s corruption pollute Baldur’s Gate, no matter what friends she has.”

And Jaheira left, along with the inept fighter she kept at her side, allowing just rain and silence to fall for a moment as Myna’s vision started to focus again and she could see the two strangers. Well, one who knew her, at least, though she couldn’t recall him, “Thank you,” uncertainty laced her tone, starting out too quiet, testing her own voice. “I’m sorry, you seem to know me, but I’m not sure who you are, or what I’ve done to earn such…enemies.”

 

[cleopat]

Marisol smiled a bit at Gale talking to his tressym. It was rather cute, really. I wonder if Tara appreciates being petted by strangers.

Upon Gale mentioning he was on his way to Sorcerous Sundries, a location she was quite intimate with, she tried to recall exactly what she was doing before the nautiloid. “I-” Marisol frowned, grabbing her head with one hand, “I don’t quite remember what I was doing before I got abducted.” Perhaps too much has happened since for her to really remember much of what was going on.

The mind has a funny way of dealing with trauma.

“You would be right in assuming I’m a sorceress. But unfortunately, our new tadpole friends are a bit out of my realm of knowledge, and I fear the realm of knowledge for many.” Though if anyone knew, someone at Sorcerous Sundries should know, right?

She had to hope.

“If you don’t mind company, maybe we should stick together, until we can get this tadpole out of our skulls.” Perhaps the issue could be solved faster if they paired up. A wizard and a sorceress.

~~~

There are places your Steelwatch cannot reach.

She will venture there. You know it must.

Gortash had his heavy theories on who exactly was behind this doppler Jaheira, it didn’t take much to see it came from the thorn in his side of his life.

He stared with contempt at the fake Jaheira as she left through her portal with the imbecile fighter who somehow became a local folk hero. He would never understand it, but right then, he didn’t want to.

He wanted to focus on more pressing matters at the present.

The rain lightened up, reducing to a drizzle instead of the downpour that fell on Gortash in an unexpected, and unwanted, surprise. He waited patiently for Myna to speak first, allowing her a moment to regain her senses after the unexpected flashbang he unleashed on them. His own hearing needed to clear up anyways.

His banite bodyguard waited patiently to the side.

Enver knew Orin had attacked Myna, and he ignored the tug at his chest as she confessed her lapse in memory. Oh how that changeling wasn’t going to live much longer, if he had any say in it. She didn’t even know of how beautiful her violence was! “Tell me, what exactly do you know?”

 

[Lucyfer]

“To be fair, if I was doing something mundane, I likely wouldn’t remember, either,” Gale tried to reassure Marisol, feeling a bit bad for her own lapse. He wasn’t sure if he’d forget it, in truth. He’d likely remember it for the rest of his life, and end up a little paranoid each time he went down the same path he was picked up on.

He certainly wouldn’t delight in traveling that road to Baldur’s Gate any longer. A pity he hadn’t made it.

He clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth as she admitted to having no familiarity with the situation, “Well, can’t blame a man for hoping, but you are right. Even I know very little about curing ceremorphis, just an unfortunate amount of knowledge as to how unpleasant the process is, and I’d rather not go through it at all.” He certainly had no issues about traveling with someone else to figure this out.

He needed to.

Not just for his own sake, but the sake of…well, not quite the world, but definitely the sake of a city and plenty of nature. If that orb exploded within him, as it would if he transformed, then he’d doom several lives to death.

“You ought to travel with a companion, Mr. Dekarios. You need someone else to watch over you!”

He hadn’t planned to deny Marisol, but he sighed as Tara spoke anyways. “It seems Tara wishes to continue our undertaking together,” she swished her tail as if irritated he outed her, “and I must acquiesce to her wisdom; it rarely leads me astray. To begin, we ought to see if we can find any bits of civilization. We seem near a river, so we should pick a direction, and follow it. We’ll run into people eventually. Not to mention, waypoints are rarely put in places that do not require traveling to.”

He smiled, feeling some reassurance even as he said that. Yes, they had to be near some place of importance!

“Which way would you suggest we head, Marisol?”

~***~

‘Nothing.’

That wasn’t expressly true, but it certainly felt like it to Myna. Likely, more memories would come trickling back to her as she encountered more. If not memories, more revelations, like the way her body reacted, ready to kill, familiar with killing. Things she knew, but did not know why she knew.

She let the stone fall to the ground, and tried to think, “I know my name is Myna,” which he knew. Was it something many people knew? Was it something few knew? “I…,” the lack threatened to overwhelm the little she did know with a thousand questions, far more important than the things she knew.

She stumbled over those insignificant things and had to shake her head to clear the questions and desperation that made her want to scream.

“I was…I don’t know where I was before I was here, except that I must have been in that,” she gestured at the pod, not recognizing it at all, “I must have hurt myself,” her side was still bleeding, “when I left it. I don’t remember leaving it. I remember a mind flayer, medical instruments, intestines – mine? Tens…hundreds of bodies. So many bodies, just…discarded. Heaps of them.”

Moonrise, though she didn’t know it. Moonrise, where Myrkul, and the necromancers were. Where she had been, before, and where Orin had attacked her, and left her amongst those hundreds of bodies, left her with a necromancer who had inadvertently saved her, and made her into quite a willing servant, for a time.

The thought of the bodies twisted her gut, an understanding that this was a terrible time present, although she couldn’t remember why. After all, another sensation of such death on such a scale being worth grinning over fought against it, a twisted reckoning she couldn’t reconcile, lacking all personal understanding for either emotion.

“I know someone did this to me. Ruined me. This was no accident,” the old viciousness of the Bhaalspawn was there, sharp as ever, “but I don’t know who. Why.” But clearly people wanted her dead.

Her eyes had drifted in speaking, trying to focus on memories not there by looking at the dreary area around, as uninspired as it was, but they went right back to the stranger. “Who are you? How do you know me?” The questions were sharp. Almost accusatory, but with enough hesitance not to be quite that. Just…confused. Confused, but alert.

 

[cleopat]

Marisol silently appreciated the comfort Gale tried to give her. It was all pretty words, but it was enough to distract her from the panic that slowly built within her, now abading slowly as she thought about what their next steps should be.

There was no use in lingering on the thought, after all. It wouldn’t get her anywhere.

She grimaced at the thought of the ceremorphis process. “Please, spare me the details of what the process is like.” Marisol didn’t wish to know. She just wanted to fix their problem, and two magic-wielders were better than none.

Tara seemed to have piped up with her own opinion to Marisol’s statement. She gave a bright smile to the tressym, pleased that Gale’s furry familiar agreed with her own thoughts. “Why thank you, Tara. If your wisdom rarely leads him astray, then I will not doubt it.” Tressyms were intelligent creatures. It was a pity she could speak to animals unless with the aid of a potion.

Marisol was somewhat surprised Gale wanted her to pick the direction they headed next, but she showed confidence as she glanced in the direction of the supposed river. They were near a beach, she knew at the very least, but where in the gods were they in Faerûn? If they could get to a town that was labeled on most maps, she may be able to better direct them towards Baldur’s Gate.

“Let’s go that way,” she directed, pointing in a northwardly direction.

~~~

Enver hummed with her announcement that she knew her name. That was better than nothing. Myna was still there to some extent. Maybe more of her lingered beneath the surface, and he just had to find a pull to help coax it out of her.

His eyes trailed over the pod, expression blank though anger simmered beneath his skin. Gortash perked up a bit when she mentioned being around grotesque scenes, such as intestines and discarded bodies. Were they her doing? Was it where she was after Orin attempted to kill her?

Maybe his Myna was still there somewhere.

“My name is Enver Gortash,” he started slowly, as if talking to an easily startled animal, which in this case, Myna may as well have been. “You…you were my favorite assassin for so long. We’ve known each other for years, and one could say we were quite close.” As if they could get any closer than his dick inside her.

Oh how he missed those moments.

“I know who ruined you,” he spat, demeanor shifting to one of vitriol. “Orin tried to murder you because she was jealous. She wanted to dispose of you to become Bhaal’s new chosen one.” Some of the information he surmised after careful consideration, but Orin wasn’t exactly discrete. She loved bragging about what she had done.

Always had.

“You’ll need a place to rest, won’t you? You are welcome into my home, until you get your memories back, if you so wish.” Or after then, if you’d prefer.

 

[Lucyfer]

“Ah, North. The direction we’re always called to by the stars, as good a choice as any,” Gale confirmed, though he wasn’t too sure it had mattered, so long as they kept close to the river. More than one civilization was likely to be along its banks, after all, and so they began to head northward from the stone he had been within.

Sadly, following the river directly wasn’t an option, due to the ruins in the way, but they could stay close.

They could find the bodies of fishers along the way, stricken by nautiloid debris. “Those are rather crude traps,” Gale murmured as they came close to a spiked cage that was not hidden, and not functional, at all, though the nautiloid could have destroyed it, he didn’t think so.

Even as they had to walk through the ruins of one nautiloid.

“Wait.”

Gale suddenly clutched at his head as a toneless voice invaded his head, desperate, pulling at both of them for aid. He tried to look around for the source, and saw in the midst of the debris, an injured mindflayer, silver blood puddled around it.

“Help me.”

It rang out as an order, and Gale tried to shake his head to rid that terrible influence that tried to push compassion into him. “Mr. Dekarios?” Tara asked, worried, as she batted lightly at his cheek, “Mr. Dekarios, what is wrong?”

“Ugh—that mind flayer,” he pointed towards it, for Tara’s sake. “It needs to die, it will be a threat to the surrounding area if allowed to persist,” yet he was not sure he could, as its will continued to press onto his mind.

Tara simply leapt from his shoulder and began to stalk towards it, tail up and flicking in agitation as if the mind flayer was naught but an annoying rat.

~***~

Enver’s name, if not his face, sounded familiar. Why would a name mean more than a face? She wasn’t sure, although some inkling of memory suggested sound and sight were handled differently in the mind. Perhaps her sight memories were worse than those tied to sound. If so, it didn’t stick when Bhaal was mentioned.

She went ashen at the thought of being tied to Bhaal, though it certainly made sense for an assassin to be so. She had every thought of what Bhaal was – but no memory of serving Bhaal. Still, when then name was mentioned, information flooded her mind.

‘And Orin is Sarevok’s daughter, and granddaughter.’

She knew too much for it to be mere coincidence, and though she couldn’t conjure Orin’s face, her mind knew details by rote, as if she were just a part of some sordid history she had spent her life studying.

Enver offered his home easily, but Myna shifted, leaned away, as she folded her arms over her chest. Everything he said was quite a lot to take in, and while it certainly made sense, she…didn’t enjoy hearing it. And that had to mean something, too, didn’t it? “I’m…not sure I want to stay with you. I must have my own home, right?”

If they were close, would he know where it was?

“Other people who knew me, who can verify what you’ve said,” not his guard, obviously. People not under his control, “I’d…rather make sure, before I take the words of a murdering Bhaalist to heart.” She just assumed he served Bhaal, too.

Who else would he be to tolerate someone like that?

 

[cleopat]

Marisol smiled softly at Gale’s words, already determining that he was a talker, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. She enjoyed a good conversation, and he seemed to be one who didn’t drone on about nothing.

And light conversation they had until their first distraction.

Marisol frowned at the traps, not wanting to linger in the area too long. Something grotesque lingered in the air there, and she didn’t want to stick around and discover why her guy instinct was telling her that.

Not much further, a sharp pain radiated in her head, and she grasped it with a sharp gasp. She clearly heard the voice just as Gale did, and the source of the pain and voice was made clear by Gale’s pointing.

It called for help, yet it was the reason she was in her predicament. She wanted to be angry, and to use that anger to get her vengeance, but compassion pulled at the back of her mind.

Tara stalked towards the injured mindflayer, and Marisol followed. The compassion slowly grew as she moved closer, but she fought against the feeling as hard as she could. She tried to remember what it did to her, the tadpole it stuck in her head, and kept that image on the forefront of her mind.

Its eyes of orange pearls gleamed with malice as it realized Marisol was fighting its influence in her mind. “You deserve nothing.” She held out a hand, and lightning sparked from her fingertips. Her hand lowered to its head, and lightning shot out and shocked it. It convulsed for a quick moment before its head lowered back to the ground, unmoving, just as the pain in her head went away.

~~~

A curious response to hearing that she was tied to Bhaal. Enver cocked his head, observing her little reactions to every word with intent, like he would with any politician or victim he came across. Except she was no victim, or a politician he loathed.

She was…Myna. She was his, whether she remembered that or not.

And her further reaction to his continued words…he didn’t like it at all. Even knowing her memories were gone, it still sent a sharp stab in his chest.

His Banite guard looked like he found something of interest to look at through the drizzle of the rain.

“You do have a home, but unfortunately I do not know where it is located, nor do I encourage you to seek it out. Your attempted killer lives in that same wretched place,” he spat with malic. Even if he did know where it was, he didn’t know if he would tell her or show her. He couldn’t, for more than that reason.

For far more selfish reasons.

But her calling him a Bhaalist sent a flicker of rage through him, like lightning in a storm. As soon as it came, it disappeared, only to be replaced by absolute disgust. “I am NOT a Bhaalist,” he growled, curling both hands into fists for a few seconds, before relaxing them.

Her memories are gone. Her memories are gone.

“I am the Chosen of Bane,” he said casually, as if discussing what to eat for dinner. “And if it’s any consolation, my home is large enough for you to have a room and a shower to yourself without ever having to see me. You can also meet others who knew of our…relationship.”

 

[Lucyfer]

Tara fully intended on destroying the mind flayer herself, given its weakened state, but there was no need for that. Marisol did it all herself with a bit of lightning, and Tara chuckled – though it likely came out as a strange sort of hiccupping purr for Marisol’s ears. “Well, Mr. Dekarios, it seems she is a willful one,” Tara paced in front of the mind flayer’s empty eyes, before turning back towards it.

She swiped one of its eyes from its head and stuck it into her mouth instantly.

“Mm. Not quite as good as beholder or pigeon.”

“Tara….” Gale palmed his face with a sigh, “I am not getting you mind flayer to eat – forgive her, she is ruled by her appetites. And, thank you, for putting an end to that thing.”

“Oh hush, I would not ask you to go out of your way for me. Although I go out of my way plenty for you and your appetite. Very expensive.”

“Are you trying to guilt me?” Gale asked Tara as she walked back over to him, tail swishing with each step.

“Merely pointing out the facts, Mr. Dekarios.”

Gale sighed, “I’ll see about getting you some pigeons, how’s that?”

“Much obliged,” Tara purred as she walked on ahead, “Come now, we should continue north.”

“You could fly and look for a civilization for us.”

Tara paused.

“Oh. Oh you’re quite right,” she sounded embarrassed, “I will find you,” and with that, she spread her wings and flew up with due haste, causing Gale another sigh, though with quite the fond smile as his eyes followed her ascent.

~***~

Enver didn’t know where her home was, and even if he did, it sounded like he wouldn’t tell her. The person who ruined her – according to him – was there. ‘If you knew who ruined me, if I was so dear to you, why are they living?’ A surge of anger warmed her, and flooded her as she saw his disgust at the idea of being a Bhaalist.

His anger.

Why would he be so angry if they were meant to be allies?

‘Bane thinks he rules over Bhaal.’

So would a Banite. If she was a Bhaalist. If he wasn’t lying.

If.

If.

If.

It fell like the droplets of rain. ‘If…then I know why they called me a devil.’ Was that what she wanted? She felt so confused then, even if the thought of violence excited, she hadn’t wanted to be something so foul, had she?

‘Denial won’t help.’

Even so, she stepped towards the road, “Thank you, Lord Gortash,” formality, distance, “but I will pass on your offer. I can find my way to the Gate with this road,” she hoped, “I appreciate your help and that we seem to know each other, but I need time to consider what’s happened and what you’ve said.”

She didn’t know how she’d find a place. She didn’t know if she’d be safe. Hells, she knew nothing at all, and that still terrified her, but she didn’t think she should let herself fall into the home of a Banite. They were all about control, and she was only too aware her mind was too empty, too easy, to twist.

“Besides, it doesn’t seem you cared enough about me to destroy the one who ruined me, so I’m not sure we were as close as you may have dreamed.”

Terrible words, but she hoped his pride stung with them. Hoped it was enough to wound so he’d go away and leave her to her fate, as he seemed content to do before, when this Orin destroyed her.

 

[cleopat]

Marisol stared wide-eyed at Tara, a bit startled to see her swipe an eye from the mind flayer and eat it. Oh, she couldn’t imagine it tasted too good. But the tressym seemed to enjoy it enough.

And she wished at that moment that she could understand Tara, but she could only get Gale’s side of the conversation, which only offered more questions and some amusement, as she tried to guess what Tara was telling him.

When Gale mentioned that she could fly and look for civilization, Marisol smiled and held back a chuckle, for the Tressym’s sake. She flew off, and Marisol caught the fond smile in his expression. “You two seem close,” she commented, setting off in the direction they had been heading in.

“How long have you two been a part of each other’s lives?” There was no telling how old Tara even was.

She may as well learn about her traveling companion. “I don’t think you’ve mentioned, but where are you from, Gale?”

~~~

Gortash frowned, which only deepened with her next words. Disappointment rose, but soon anger replaced as she accused him of not caring.

Of daring to insinuate that he didn’t think about the moment Orin told him of her demise over and over again, daily, until he wanted to snuff the life out of Orin slowly, as painfully as he possibly could.

How dare she say such an ignorant thing?

“It seems your memory loss has affected more than just your memory,” Gortash hissed, walking fast to stop in front of Myna, blocking her from going any further. “There is no one in Faerûn who wants Orin dead as much as me.” Even more than Myna, pre or post memory loss. “There is nothing I want more than to see her entrails on the ground, her blood soiling the dirt beneath her.”

How he wanted to send someone after her.

He paused, and swallowed. “There is to remain balance for now. Balance between the Chosen Three.” Another pause. “Believe me, I wish the woman who did this to you was already dead, but it can’t be done right now. One day though…”

One day, he would see to it that Myna had her revenge, and that Orin would be dead.

 

[Lucyfer]

It had been a while since Gale had to consider talking to another person. He did wonder, as he was caught staring after Tara, how embarrassed he ought to feel for such obvious fondness for a tressym. Was it something one should be embarrassed over? Marisol didn’t seem bothered by it, but all the same, the lingering thought remained if he had done something strange, or wrong.

“Oh, ah, much longer than my dear mother would have liked me to be acquainted with Tara,” he chuckled, “you see, I wanted a cat as a child,” he began as they returned to walking north, “my parents denied me, and well, being the spiteful little boy I was, I decided I would summon my own cat. Turned out, I was a bit too good at the familiar spell, and I summoned not a mere cat, but a tressym. I suppose she’s been with me around…30 years, give or take,” Gale shrugged.

He couldn’t quite recall how old he was. His mother seemed to vary the age in retellings, that he didn’t know anymore. Tara likely had a better idea.

“Did I forget to mention? Very poor manners, my apologies. I hail from Waterdeep,” Gale answered, “born and raised, though I have done some traveling around Faerun, and seen quite a bit, though I am out of practice, and quite unfamiliar with our current locale. I suppose I should have done more hiking, but I ended up in cities more often than not.”

And the occasional ruins, or out of the way temple, but nothing quite like this. “I recall you mentioned hailing from Baldur’s Gate. What was it you did in the city, if you do not mind my prying?”

~***~

Malice filled Myna’s red eyes as she lifted her gaze back to Gortash’s face as he stepped in front of her, determined to be in her way. Determined to be angry, which only fed her own anger. Was he truly angry at Orin? Or was he angry that she wasn’t believing the words he said – lies, truths, she didn’t know.

Right then, it didn’t matter.

‘He wouldn’t be so loud with his vocal cords ripped out.’

Denied murder for so long, and quite unaware of how true Gortash’s words were, Myna had little defense against the desires of anger and a genetic need to snuff life out. The Urge that ran within her blood had been denied for months, and though she knew it not, Gortash had been the one the Urge wanted to take the most, for the sweetest, cruellests of deaths.

The only one that would have mattered to her.

She had kept it in check for years, rarely actually losing to it, but losing still felt like slipping on a silk glove, and what lucidity was in her gaze flickered, and abandoned. The rage was gone. Thought was gone.

The action was just as quick.

Myna lunged one hand at the Chosen of Bane’s throat, and though she couldn’t summon the slayer’s claws, she still fully intended to use her tiefling ones to tear into his soft flesh and find those nuisance noise-makers.

Bhaal, clearly, had no qualms where rules and balances were concerned. Or at least, the Urge he gave his Chosen didn’t.

 

[cleopat]

Marisol listened intently to Gale’s story about his tressym. One that seemed to be conjured by accident, no doubt the skills of a talented wizard, if he accomplished the feat at a young age. She hummed as he recalled his childhood memory, eyes crinkled with amusement at the image of a young boy, an exasperated mother, and an unexpected tressym.

She knew she would’ve given her parents a heart attack.

“You sound like you were quite the handful as a child.” No doubt she was as well, with her untamed natural ability with the Weave and her affinity for accidentally destroying furniture. “But you seem to have a loyal companion as a result. She was eager to wake me up so I could come and pull you from that rock,” she chuckled, recalling how she woke up to a strange tressym licking her cheek.

Wasn’t the most unpleasant way to wake up.

“Waterdeep? Mm, I’ve been there a few times.” Due to its locale on the ocean, her family’s trading business had routes in the city, and she made sure to visit a few times, if not to simply get out of Baldur’s Gate for some time. “It’s a nice city.”

She gave Gale a half smile at his question towards her. “We have a long journey ahead, so feel free to pry. I’ll simply say if the question is too personal.” But that one wasn’t. “Back in Baldur’s Gate, I worked in my family business, a trading company. Though, while my parents want me to take over the business, I do not, so I guess I’m searching for a new path in life.”

Though this wasn’t exactly what she had in mind.

~~~

Gortash could predict Myna’s next move probably before even she could think of it.

He was all too used to her homicidal outbursts - he was not immune from them. Not at all. If anything, he saw them directed at him more than anyone else.

They had a way of getting under each other’s skin.

And as such, Gortash was prepared to deal with Myna’s burst of rage, gifted to her by her god.

With his gauntleted hand, Gortash grabbed Myna’s wrist before her nails could dig into the soft flesh of his neck. Just as quickly, he reached into his coat and pulled out a potion - one he always kept with him just in case.

As a keepsake.

He opened the bottle and splashed it on her face. It didn’t matter if the liquid got into her mouth, the fumes were just as liable to knock her unconscious long enough for them to transport her back to his home.

Myna went slack against him, and while holding her up, Gortash motioned for his bodyguard to come over. “Help me get her back. And see to it that her room is…properly guarded.”

The baanite guard nodded and hefted Myna over his shoulder, when they returned to Gortash’s home and hopefully discuss matters later, when she woke up and calmed down.

He would keep an ear out for any guards that summoned him to her room, and he was prepared to be there in an instant.

Anything for his little assassin.

 

[Lucyfer]

“Yes,” Gale agreed, chuckling, aware he was indeed a handful, “and I am lucky to have her in my life,” he’d never think otherwise with how helpful Tara was.

It seemed Waterdeep was also known to Marisol, not a huge surprise. Waterdeep wasn’t some backwater town, after all. If her family did trade, no doubt they came through there, and Gale hummed, “I never really knew if my parents wanted anything else for me,” he mused, “they didn’t have much choice when I began to excel.”

And they never spoke against his path of magic, just spoke against his, well, choices of where to practice, and what to practice.

“I suppose this is certainly one way to get on another path, though not the method I’d pick,” as they began to ascend along a cliff, he heard some sticks snapping, and grass rustling. Definitely not Tara.

A stranger with white hair called down to them, “Hurry! I’ve got one of those…brain things cornered.” Gale resisted the urge to spark fire in his hand prematurely, though he looked towards the grass where he’d heard the rustling, pausing where he stood to try and locate it without venturing further and losing it.

Those things couldn’t be allowed to roam free.

~***~

There was something familiar about the scent of the potion. Myna saw it, and tried to tear herself out of Gortash’s grip before it ever landed on her, but eventually, it did. And the inhalation of it made her instantly drowsy, and then, she slipped into a sleep even Bhaal couldn’t disturb, a sleep that would have impacted elves.

Myna made sure Gortash knew the recipe.

Made sure he kept a potion on him.

Just in case.

Not that Myna knew that now, or when she woke up. The wound on her abdomen was healed, but she was bound in chains. Not exactly a fair trade, considering she couldn’t remember anything about how she got here. ‘Gortash.’ Well, that, yes. She remembered he stepped to block her path and then….

He must have knocked her out.

Myna screamed in frustration and tried pulling at the chains and twisting her arms to get them out, but they didn’t relinquish her. The fury took a quick nosedive into confusion, and that sprung tears as she buried her face in her knees.

She didn’t know what was going on anymore, or why, and she hated everything.

Of course, outside the room, one of the Banite guards took leave of their post to bother Enver with the news that the Bhaalspawn was at least awake.

 

[cleopat]

Marisol found herself slightly jealous of a younger Gale, able to pick the path he truly wanted, and not forced to do what was expected for the family. A younger Marisol would’ve been so much happier had she truly had choices instead of expectations.

She chuckled, shaking her head. “No, this isn’t the most typical method to find a new path.” If they survived this whole ordeal. How long would it be before the tadpole won?

A rustling noise disturbed their peace, and a pale elf with white hair made himself known to them, calling on about the brain creatures from the ship. She didn’t think much of the elf that called on them, instead focusing on the area he motioned towards.

Her eyes narrowed in concentration as she searched the area for any sign of the things. She couldn’t see any rustling, any sign that something lurked in the grass. Did it already escape? “Are you sure?” She stepped closer to the grass, ready to light up a spark if needed. “I don’t see anything in there.”

~~~

The potion wasn’t meant to knock out Myna for very long, so Gortash didn’t bother delving himself into his work before she woke up. His concentration would only be disturbed when he was involved in something, serving to irritate him.

He kept an ear out for when his guard would approach him with news regarding the status of Myna and rousing from her forced slumber. It happened, and he didn’t hesitate a second to head to the room he locked her in, securely chained for everyone’s safety, including her own.

Gortash didn’t know what of the Dark Urge would still lurk beneath the skin, prowling to attack.

He entered the room without a word. A Baanite guard stood outside the room, but he didn’t feel the need to bring him inside. Not yet. He would give the signal if backup was needed.

But Myna acted like a wounded lamb. Scared, easy to lash out to protect herself. But something more grotesque than a lamb, with the Dark Urge simmering within her, wanting to lash out.

“You know, you’re the one who gave me the recipe for that handy little potion.” His hands were clasped behind his back as he strolled towards where they chained up Myna. Long enough chains to comfortably rest on the bed they put her on, but not so long that she could reach him from where he stood.

“You knew your dark urges would occasionally rear its ugly head and attack me, even if completely unintentionally. You derived a way for me to safely subdue you should that happen.”

 

[Lucyfer]

“Careful,” Gale hissed the whisper as he stayed back, preparing himself to launch an attack if the brain was ushered out of the grass. His attention focused there, that he didn’t think to watch the pale elf and what he might do.

“Yes, I’m sure,” the pale elf said, and indeed, as he spoke, there was a sudden rustling in the grass. Gale let flame appear in his hand, but what came running out was a boar – not a brain. He gave a startled laugh, “that’s not—”

But as he looked back, he saw the elf reach for Marisol with a knife out, clearly intending to pull her back with him and put the knife to her throat. Gale didn’t quite have time to hurl the firebolt at the elf without risking Marisol, so he didn’t do that – but he kept it hovering over his palm in case Marisol was able to make an opening and break away from this attempt.

~***~

Myna heard the door open, and looked up, tearstained cheeks still heating with anger, but the lucidity remained. For now, that Urge she didn’t know, didn’t understand, was subdued for the night.

Her own confusion, and her own anger, however, weren’t.

Or perhaps it was more denial at this point. She didn’t want to believe what he had to say about her. She didn’t bother trying to rise and test how far the chains would go. She could tell it wasn’t far enough, and what point? Even if she could reach him, he had guards, and she was in chains. Grabbing him wouldn’t get her out of chains.

“I don’t understand.”

And she didn’t. What ‘dark urge’? “Even if I was Bhaalist, I wouldn’t have any urges others lack. They’re just people who choose harm over anything else, like Shar’s followers. Nothing special ought to be needed.”

But she didn’t know how she got here. She didn’t remember him using a potion. “I don’t…remember you using a potion, though,” her brows knit together, her gaze fell to the bedding in front of her in thought, desperately trying to pull memories back, and failing at every attempt. “I don’t understand….”

 

[cleopat]

Marisol should have headed Gale’s warning, but she didn’t. At first only startled by the sight of the boar, she chuckled at the ridiculousness of the situation. Not a brain, just a harmless boar.

“Are you sure that you saw a-” her words were cut off when she was pulled back suddenly with a knife now at her throat. Marisol immediately thought about shocking him, but with the proximity of the knife to her throat, she risked involuntary convulsions in his hand.

Gale was ready to attack too, it seemed, but he risked hitting her as well with the firebolt.

“What is the meaning of this?” she demanded, her hands clutching the arm with the knife. “If you want those brains dead as well, then we must be on the same team.”

~~~

Gortash wanted to walk over to Myna and wipe the tears from her cheeks. He may not have been the exact cause of them - Orin is more to blame for that and her current memoryless predicament - but he hated seeing them all the same.

“There’s much I’m afraid you won’t understand anymore,” he sighed with a shake of his head. And how frustrating it was! To see her, to recall vividly how she felt underneath him, and now, she may as well have been a stranger he plucked from the streets.

“And you were…different from other Bhaalists.” He strolled closer to Myna. “You were forged from Bhaal himself, so no, no other Bhaalist would have the same urges that you do.” Those glorious, fucked up urges that had served him well in the past.

“I imagine that you will continue to not understand much until…you do.” Gortash sighed and shook his head. “There’s a chance you may not even gain your memories back at all. I don’t know exactly what was done to you…but you were considered dead to us. To me.”

 

[Lucyfer]

Gale could see the pale elf knew he was in over his head, but he was frightened. Terrified. A terrified animal acted irrationally, and so, too, did terrified people. That didn’t mean Gale was going to lower his threat, but he did take into mind that this elf wasn’t in his right mind in the moment, and likely didn’t really want to hurt them. “Easy – if it’s material goods you want, we can spare some.” Not really.

“No – I saw her on the ship, walking around, free,” the elf hissed that word as if it were the most repulsive word he knew. “You’re one of them, aren’t you? Sided with them.”

“Now now, she just killed a mind flayer minutes ago. We can take you to the corpse. You can see the signs of death by electric shock,” Gale tried to reason, “She got free of her pod, something we failed to do, but not an impossible task when a ship is being wrecked by dragons, hn?”

The elf’s brows knit together in thought, “That’s—augh!”

The outcry was surprising, but Gale was relieved to see the knife suddenly pulled away from Marisol’s throat as the elf stepped back and put a hand to his head. “What in the hells—” the elf looked back up, confused by the sudden connection, by the images he saw rush through his head from the woman.

~***~

‘Forged by Bhaal…so Bhaalspawn?’

Myna got the sense that wasn’t quite what Gortash meant. Bhaalspawn didn’t have fucked up urges. They often became fucked up people, but it remained a choice. No Bhaalspawn was free of nightmares, a sort of torture that often led them to do the fucked up things they saw in their dreams, for that hit of pleasure that followed murder.

‘You know too much about Bhaal and Bhaalspawns for this to be a mere coincidence.’

He might be right.

Even if he was, without her memories, she didn’t want it. “Sounds terrible that I could harm those I care for without a choice in the matter,” that her only choice may have been to alert them to it, and hope their reactions were sufficient. Hope she didn’t come out of the daze she must have been in, to find their blood on her hands.

She was considered dead by this Orin. “My…public image couldn’t have been this.” She still didn’t want to believe him. She wanted to find alternative sources for her life, but lashing out at Gortash wasn’t going to get that done. “Who was I to everyone else? How long have I been presumed dead?”

Perhaps, in a way, she was still dead.

She wasn’t who she used to be.

A part of her pitied Gortash, if he was indeed telling the truth. It must be excruciatingly painful for him to look at her and see a stranger, but she…couldn’t fix that. She couldn’t be whatever he remembered.

 

[cleopat]

Marisol was convinced this elf was going to kill her, as she tried to get his knife away from her neck, as Gale tried to talk him down and out of it.

Soon pain erupted in her head, the same time as the elf let her go. She was seeing her memories once more, memories of the tadpole being put in her head while she was strapped down, memories of her escaping her pod and making a run for it. Of fighting her way to what she had hoped was freedom, before the ship crashed, and she somehow survived it.

She stumbled forward and turned back to the elf, seeing him clutching his head and giving her a strange look. “Are you seeing…?” but that was impossible, right?

But these damn tadpoles could transform them.

“You must believe me now. I’m just as much of a victim in this as you are.”

~~~

Whatever hope Gortash may have foolishly held on to his Myna still being in there was squandered at her declaration of how it sounded terrible that she could harm those she cared for without a choice. The old Myna didn’t care. Even laughed at the idea.

He would enjoy the slow death of those that did this to her.

“You’re right, your public image was far from what you hid in your private life.” Maybe this Myna could still play. Maybe he would still be able to listen to her melodic voice as she strummed away on a lute.

A voice he often heard at night singing pleasures with him before drifting off to sleep.

“You were a well beloved bard. Everyone loved you and your performances,” Gortash answered, glancing out the window, unable to look at her at the moment. “No one ever expected what you did in your private life.” One that he relished in. Encouraged.

How often did they enjoy each other’s sadistic pleasures?

“And you’ve been presumed dead for about four months.” Four long months of thinking she was dead. And now? Now his heart ached even more, knowing she was alive, but the Myna he knew was for sure long dead.

 

[Lucyfer]

“I don’t know—what the hells was that?” The elf demanded.

“What happened?” Gale’s tadpole had not jumped into the connection, “I may know what occurred,” he knew a few things, but not without more details than grimaces and confusion.

“I—I don’t know!” the pale elf said, straightening up, “all at once I saw a bunch of—oh—memories in my head? Not my own, I presume they’re yours?” he tilted his chin, “a psychic attack to try and dissuade me.”

“Ah, likely not,” Gale shook his head, and then tapped the side of it, “were you also a recipient of a new ocular guest?”

The elf wrinkled his nose, “I suppose.” He sounded a bit confused, a bit disgusted.

“That was a mind flayer tadpole. Mind flayers, as you know, exist frequently in a hive mind. I suspect the tadpole sensed a threat to another of its, well, community, and sent that frequency of thought to you, in order to dissuade you from killing its host. But neither of us are controlled by it, just as you do not seem to be,” Gale said, adding the last part as a reminder.

Everyone was free.

The elf’s brows knit together, “But if I have a mind flayer tadpole in my head…."

Gale could see what he was getting at, and nodded solemnly, “Yes. We are, all of us, under threat of becoming a mind flayer. But! It does usually take seven days. Seven, terrible days,” he shivered at the thought of what he knew of the process, “all the more reason to work together, right?”

~***~

‘So are you just a crazy fan who thinks they have a moment to steal?’

Myna didn’t ask that. The way Enver looked away, the longing…it could all be a ruse, like his anger, but it didn’t feel that way. He wasn’t slipping if it was all a ruse, if he was a crazy fan hoping to get lucky. What crazy fan would introduce themselves as a Banite? What crazy fan would tell her she was a psychopathic killer and they liked that?

Someone who definitely needed some help, but…well, no, not a crazy fan.

‘Four months.’

That time was lost to her, just like everything before. Everything with Gortash. Every moment as a bard. Songs lingered in her mind, even some power on her tongue tingled with its existence, but nothing that told her anything about herself. “I don’t remember even that,” but others would.

Perhaps no one could confirm what Gortash said about her murderous ways – at least, no one she’d believe. Perhaps that was a horror to uncover the truth to, but others could confirm her being a bard. “Let me find out. Let me—let me clean up, and go find others who knew me,” not as a devil, not as a bhaalist, but a bard.

“If the rest of what you’ve said is true…it’ll become obvious, won’t it?” She’d harm someone.

She’d see the results.

But she wanted to hope otherwise.

 

[cleopat]

Marisol wrinkled her nose at the less-than-pleasant way of Gale describing what was happening to them. He…certainly had a way with words, didn’t he? Seven terrible days.

Well, that was rather cheerful, wasn’t it?

“Now that that’s cleared up,” she hoped, “Gale and I were on our way to find the nearest civilization, and hopefully from there get to Baldur’s Gate and find someone who may be able to help with our affliction.” Maybe the newcomer knew which direction exactly to head in.

“Oh! And if you are going to join us, my name is Marisol. Marisol Regenfell,” she introduced as if the elf didn’t just hold a knife to her throat a few minutes ago.

Fear could make anyone act irrational.

~~~

Another part of herself she couldn’t remember.

It seemed that Myna was destined to start with a new slate, and Enver feared that he was destined to not be on that slate.

But what else could he do but hope and wait? And dig himself further into her life until she couldn’t go on without thinking about him. He would make sure of that.

Gortash cleared his throat and nodded. “Yes, it will become obvious. The Bhaalspawn can’t go for too long without satiating its bloodlust.” Which meant Myna had to kill, even if this new Myna couldn’t stomach the thought.

Maybe a little blood would toughen her up.

“Don’t try anything…stupid,” he said, approaching her with the keys to her chains delicately hanging from a finger. “I have plenty of eyes all over the city.” The manacles keeping Myna prisoner snapped open with a twist of the key. “Understood?”

 

[Lucyfer]

The pale elf seemed to assess his options, and debated on the lies and truth. “Heh,” he finally let out at the introduction, “I was planning to go this alone, but I suppose if we can put my rather impolite greeting behind us, the assistance wouldn’t be terrible. I’m Astarion,” he introduced, offering no surname.

“Gale, of Waterdeep,” Gale offered, before a shadow came over all of them, and Tara landed in the midst of their group. “And Tara,” he gestured down, “a friend of mine.”

Astarion arched a brow at that.

“A new friend, Mr. Dekarios? My, you are popular,” Tara chirped. “I’ve found a civilization of tieflings and druids, it’s not far from here, though it is quite a mess. I do hope we won’t be staying long, I didn’t see any tasty birds, just oxen.”

“We’ll try to make the trip short, Tara,” he said, then looked up, “Tara’s found a village not far. She’ll lead the way.” He said it as Tara began to walk ahead, still earning a look from Astarion, before he just laughed and shook his head.

“And here I thought today could not get any stranger,” he mused, but followed the tressym. “Is the cat infected, too?”

“Tressym, if you please,” Gale said, “and no, she is not.”

~***~

Enver didn’t seem to have any doubts about her nature at all, which was rather disheartening. Myna wasn’t sure even she doubted it when he came close enough to undo the shackles, and all she wanted to do was bite through his throat. She was sure her gaze must have lingered there too long, but no, she didn’t do anything stupid.

She had control.

For now.

“If murder isn’t stupid, what is?” Myna wondered as he spoke of his eyes all over the city. Probably enjoying herself. Meeting people. Making friends. How had she ever stood this man? Or did she?

Hard to say, as she slipped off the bed and stepped a few paces away from him, “Where may I clean up?” she wasn’t sure what to do about clothes, but the least she could do was wash the mud and blood from herself.

 

[cleopat]

While Astarion agreed to join them in figuring out their tadpole problem, Marisol would still keep an eye out on him. She didn’t easily forgive those who hold a knife to her throat, no matter the circumstances.

Well, it seemed Tara just barely missed all the fun.

But there was a village not far from there! Which meant they could finally figure out where they were and which direction to head toward next.

Marisol snorted at Astarion. “I can’t understand her like Gale can, but I’m pretty sure she would not take too kindly to being called a cat.” She was a tressym, thank you very much! One she wished she could understand.

“So, Astarion, where are you from, if you don’t mind me asking?” They were joining forces, she might as well be nice and learn more about their new elf companion. They didn’t exactly have the best of first impressions.

~~~

Gortash hummed with Myna’s question as he unshackled her. What was stupid indeed by her account? “Plenty of things,” he said, straightening back up. “Telling people you’re here against you will, mentioning anything about the Bhaalspawn, trying to run away even though you quite literally have nowhere to go.”

He could list more, but he was sure Myna had the picture by now.

Nothing happened in the city without him knowing.

“There’s a guest bathroom not too far from here.” He motioned for her to follow him, and Gortash began to lead the way, just a quick trip down the corridor. “I will have clothes brought to you. If you need something, there are maids available to help you, as I’m sure I’m not your first choice in a circumstance like this.”

Once upon a time, they would’ve bathed together. Enjoy the pleasures a warm bath brought them.

But no more. They were strangers once again, forced to relearn each other and learn to trust once more.

 

[Lucyfer]

Astarion rolled his eyes at being corrected twice. It only made him want to persist in calling the tressym a cat, really. But he didn’t know what she was capable of, besides catching birds, and apparently, finding a village to head towards. That was useful enough, assuming Gale wasn’t making up that he understood her.

“Oh, Baldur’s Gate,” Astarion shrugged it off.

He still couldn’t believe it. Just snatched off the street by such a strange ship, snatched from his life, from Cazador, and now out frolicking in the sun! There was no way his luck was this good. Something was going to give.

“Seems many were from there on the ship,” Gale noted.

“Well, darling, it is a big city,” Astarion noted.

“Oh, I am aware,” he said, “I wonder if there’s an uproar going on. Can’t be everyday this many people goes missing all at once.”

“You’d be surprised,” Astarion muttered.

Gale didn’t seem to hear. Or he ignored it. “What do you do in Baldur’s Ga—ah!” he cut himself off as shouting arose from the distance, with the sight of the wooden door – and three people banging on it to get in.

~***~

Myna bristled at Gortash’s list. Acting as if he owned her. She didn’t have to return to his damned home. She could go wherever she pleased, and if she wanted to leave Baldur’s Gate, she would leave Baldur’s Gate, damn it! However, she kept those words behind her tongue. The only way she was getting out of here to begin with was to play along, a bit.

He took her to a bathroom, mentioned maids, and clothing. “Thank you,” she stepped in, and took in the room, before she heard the door shut.

Getting a bath running wasn’t hard, although Myna did have to enlist the maids to get the hot water. Towels, and indeed the clothes, were brought. So were oils, soaps, none of which Myna really paid attention to until she sunk herself into the hellishly hot water and finally caught the scent.

Floral. Woodsy. Warm.

Familiar.

‘Vanilla and rosewood.’ The names came on the heels of familiarity, pinging memories just out of grasp, but Myna could begin to believe Gortash about a former intimacy. He must have used the oils, but to know that…she could almost remember the musky scent beneath, but of course, it wasn’t in the oils.

It was his, but she couldn’t remember it.

She sunk herself under the water as if it would help to clear her head to take out other stimulants, and just focus, but she needed to breathe eventually, and her mind was loathed to give her more than the familiarity.

Even so, when she finally stepped out of the tub, she did take a look at herself.

Her face was unfamiliar. The scar under a horn also unfamiliar – as were so many, and she was terribly scarred, nowhere like her own back, though.

‘Forgive me, Father.’

Her mind rang with prayer when she touched the scars, no mistake at all, it was no physical Father her mind conjured, but she knew not why the flesh was lacerated. Lovitar was a goddess that demanded such pain, did she speak to a priest of Lovitar?

There was no answer in her mind, and she covered the scars in a red dress that fit perfectly.

Her own, from another life, when her face was not a stranger.

She didn’t bother trying anything fancy with her hair, and stepped out of the bathroom to hunt down a maid who could let her out, so she could go figure her identity out in some place she must have frequently played at.