#Gale is Uninfected AU

[britishassistant]

Gale’s Excellent Adventure

It is just Gale’s luck that the first time he leaves his tower in a year, he is immediately kidnapped by mindflayers.

He opens his eyes to find himself staring at one of the ghastly, squid-like creatures inserting one of its spawn into the pupil of a young tiefling next to him.

It turns back to the pool of liquid which houses its tadpoles—!

And then a thunderous blow rocks the vessel.

The mindflayer looks up in what Gale might suppose passes as panic for these creatures, then drifts out of the room at speed.

It doesn’t return.

Well, Gale reflects with a sense of mild anticlimax. He supposes that this is a net win for him! It’s good that the creatures haven’t had the chance to implant their spawn in him yet. Really, it is.

It just.

Feels a little like he’s been left out, is all.

And then the nautiloid splits apart as it plummets from the sky.

Thank My—the Gods it’s over Faerûn when it does. Even Gale doesn’t fancy his chances in Avernus.

However, in trying to save himself by reawakening an old teleportation point, he does manage to get himself lodged in a waypoint between the Weave and the Material Plane.

A little embarrassing, perhaps, but overall he’s thankful that he has all his faculties about him and his powers at his command to turn to this little inconvenience. Imagine if he’d gotten into this conundrum with a mindflayer tadpole on the brain as well! He can’t imagine that would be in any way conducive to problem solving.

It’s just as well, really. It is.

He’s most of the way to freeing himself when he senses something approach.

And well. He could do it without outside help, but where’s the sense in burning spell spots when some good old fashioned elbow grease can do the trick?

Desperately hoping it’s not another squirrel, Gale sticks his arm out the widening hole and waggles it around. “Hello? A hand, anyone?”

Something slaps it sharply.

This is good! he thinks as he yelps. That felt more like the fingers of a sentient being taking the piss rather than an owlbear about to maul him.

“Perhaps I should have clarified. A helping hand? Please?”

After a few awkward moments of waving his hand around in mid-air, he feels a warm, small pair endowed with sharp, sharp nails (Ow!) catch onto his wrist and start pulling.

He tries to lean into the pull, not entirely sure what else he can do other than shout encouragement as he gradually feels himself slipping back to the Material Plane.

His ejection may not be the most graceful, but at least he doesn’t lose his lunch like a novice.

A young tiefling stares up at him, flanked by a half-elf and a pale elf.

The same young tiefling, he notes, whom he had witnessed being infected with mindflayer spawn back on the nautiloid.

Ah. Well. Hm.

“Erm. Hello!” His mouth babbles without his full consent. “I’m Gale, of Waterdeep. Apologies, I’m usually better at this.”

“At introductions?” The young tiefling replies, one eyebrow raised.

He can’t quite help the sharp, nervous bark of laughter at that. “Sarcasm! Wonderful, wonderful stuff. Erm, no, but ah. Say, you were on the Nautiloid as well, weren’t you? I think I saw you receiving a rather, erm. Unwelcome insertion into the ocular region.”

The young tiefling grimaces slightly, eyes watchful and wary where they peek out from under an overgrown fringe.

“Oh, goody, we’ve found another one.” The pale, foppish elf pipes up. “Do you want to start on embroidering matching doublets or shall I?”

The half-elf in the purple tunic rolls her eyes. “Honestly, I wish we’d left you to the boars.”

The elf leans towards her, fluttering his eyelashes. “And deprive yourself of this face? Darling, you couldn’t.”

“Try me.” The half-elf snorts, before turning her gaze back to Gale. “But, my condolences for your experiences on that ship. I know I hardly found it pleasant.”

“Hm.” The tiefling hums, shifting their weight. Gale abruptly notices that they’re missing the tail usually sported by their kind and then has to make himself stop noticing. Tara will have his hide if he’s rude to the poor soon-to-be-mindflayer.

“While I couldn’t have phrased it any more repellently myself, it’s…good to meet another who’s survived that process.” They say, choosing their words carefully. “I don’t suppose you’ve any special information on what’s happening to us, or how to remove the damn things from our heads?”

Wait.

Hang on.

Do they think that Gale also has…?

Well. It’s understandable really. He was on the mindflayer ship, ergo he should be infected with a mindflayer parasite. A simple assumption. A correct one, had circumstances been a little different.

Gale is suddenly aware that he has two choices before him.

He can admit to the misunderstanding, apologize for it even. Send these lovely, if sadly infected people on their way to quest for a cure. Find the nearest center of civilization and see about preparing the components of a teleportation spell to get back to his tower. Go to his quarters, have a stiff drink or several, and wait for Tara to return with some more magical items to feed the orb while trying not to think about them. Never leave again until something thoroughly mundane and unremarkable bumps him off, leveling the Sword Coast along with his corpse. Perhaps a fish bone in his throat. Or tripping on the stairs.

Or…

Or.

“This insertee, we speak of, this parasite?” Gale says, trying to strike a balance between serious and glib. “Are you aware that after a period of excruciating gestation it will turn us into mindflayers?”

The tiefling snorts. “I am. Though the timing seems subject to debate. I saw a woman transform on the ship within seconds. That’s not normal, is it?”

Gale blinks, feeling his throat dry. Seconds? That’s…

“No, it most decidedly is not. Ceremorphosis usually takes place over seven days, altering the victim’s body to suit its new host. Hopefully that…anomaly was just a byproduct of proximity to the nautiloid and its nurseries, though that‘s hardly been documented in any studies on the subject…could it be that the creatures have…?”

“Quite.” The pale elf interrupts, “But what would you prescribe for dealing with our new guests?”

Gale shrugs. “You don’t happen to be cleric by any chance, do you? A doctor? Surgeon? Uncannily adroit with a knitting needle?”

The elf lets out a sultry titter of a laugh. “Only in matters of the heart, darling. I’m afraid I’m rather hopeless at all else.”

“And you seem to know enough about our condition to realize it is beyond most clerics’ skills.” The half-elf says sternly.

Gale gives his most charming smile. “Most, no doubt. But I find myself hoping that I may be in the presence of the few. You don’t happen to be one of them?”

The half-elf’s lips twist, and she shakes her head. When he looks to the young tiefling (they can’t be more than seventeen, poor thing), they shrug.

“Hardly. I was going to ask you the same question.”

“We’re most certainly going to need a skilled healer,” Gale lies. “And soon too. How about we lend each other a helping hand once more, and look for a healer together?”

The three of them share a wary glance.

Gale tries not to look too hopeful.

He does feel a bit of a scoundrel, lying to obviously sick people like this. It’s just—! He’s an archmage, one of Mystra’s former chosen. Surely if anyone can help these poor people find the aid they need, it’ll be him? If nothing else, he can provide knowledge, protection in battle, moral support? Maybe even study their condition a bit, see if there’s any truth to what the tiefling said about that instantaneous transformation. For three mindflayer infectees, they all look and sound remarkably lucid, nary a damp brow or the haze of fever among them. And—

And, damn it all, but Gale’s been miserable up in his tower. Not that Tara isn’t fine company, but Mystra was his entire world. And with her gone, he’s felt. Lost. Purposeless. And that’s even without the orb burning within him. This, this is the chance to get away from all that. To have a real adventure, a proper one. Something to take his mind off things.

And he likes these people. He’s known them less than fifteen minutes, and maybe it’s the loneliness of a full year with only a tressym talking, but Gale feels as though he could bond with these folk, given half the chance. The pale elf is charmingly witty, the half-elf seems rather sweet beneath her cold exterior, and the tiefling rather puts him in mind of Tara when she was younger. He wants to get to know them all. He thinks he’d like to be their friend.

The tiefling lets out a small sigh, drawing him back to the present.

“Sounds like a plan. You’re welcome to join us, if you wish.”

“Most excellent!” Gale has to clear his throat slightly at the force of his excitement. “A parasite shared is a parasite halved. Or something to that effect.”

The tiefling raises an eyebrow at him, while the elf quirks a sardonic grin.

Gale feels his smile waver slightly before he rallies. “Oh! But before you think you’re about to embark on a journey with most ill-mannered a man: thank you, for pulling me out of that stone. It was an act of foresighted kindness, I assure you, for I have the feeling ample opportunities will present themselves for me to return the favor.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” The tiefling says, a small smile finally gracing their face. “I’m Yuu, of Elturel.”

At his blink, the pale elf exhales a laugh. “I know, I know, I had the exact same reaction darling. Strange names people give themselves around those parts, though of course it’s hardly a patch on Shadowheart.”

“Astarion.” The half-elf, presumably Shadowheart grits out.

“Alright, that’s enough.” Yuu claps their hands. “Tadpoles out first, then we can have all the debates about names we want. Let’s move.”

“But darling, even you must admit…!”

Gale grins as he follows, and tries not to feel too guilty.

[awellboiledicicle]

In the au Gale's going to have two built in reasons to not follow Mystra's command to blow himself to hell, plus a friendly neighborhood Justice going "That would be unwise."

Which is good, because he canonically only needs one.

The fun part is going to be him processing Mystra telling him the path to redemption is death. By which i mean Hawke rolls up his sleeves and goes "here we go again" while Anders just waits for Hawke to be done. Because if there's one thing Hawke's been doing since Kirkwall its been convincing Anders that he doesn't need to die to make up for doing what he thought was the right thing.

Is starting a riot to force a revolution comparable to trying to measure up to impossible standards set by a literal goddess when you're grasping for a way to stay relevant? No, in no way really.

But the fact remains they are both repentant about the aftermath, if nothing else. And they both convinced themselves they didn't deserve to live and that death would somehow fix things.

This all manifests in the three of them sitting somewhere and talking about how maybe she fucked him up a bit. Maybe having a literal goddess go from your childhood mentor to sleeping with you might screw with your head a bit.

Because Gale's problem is he's still in the 'hurt but has not contextualized what happened to him' stage. Like he got the break up thing, he got that part. But he hasn't conceptualized the similarity to say, a powerful elven mage having done a similar trajectory would be obviously fucked up. Exploiting his love and enjoyment of magic itself to apply it to herself, and bestowing the title of chosen on him to really cement the hold she has. Exploiting the learned childhood pattern of wanting to please her and get her approval. Holding the fact she IS the weave over him as an unacknowledged threat if he ever displeased her. He hasn't processed that he was groomed from a young age to be hers, to be used by her. Hes not putting his own actions into context in that way, because he doesn't even seem to have reached the moment of going "huh that was fucked up" yet. All he's running on is how everything effects Mystra, because she was his whole life for so long.

So sitting and talking about it very much is going to feel raw and upsetting for Gale. He very much views himself as the villain and the idea that--while he absolutely did fuck up with the book/orb--Mystra fucked up bigger and worse. And worse still, she did it on purpose. Because she absolutely did not NEED to sleep with him to make him a chosen or teach him magic. That was all her. Which means he'll need to admit that he was a victim and Mystra was an aggressor. Which would be a 'very good thing the orb is stabilized because he is about to be very emotionally distraught' conversation. Even if he didn't eventually agree with their assessment, the fact he'd have to concede is that killing himself wouldn't solve anything. Sure, lets say it destroys the main powerbase of the Absolute-- there's still infected people out there. What happens to them? There's still uninfected cultists you now can't track down because all clues you COULD have gotten out of the stronghold are now smithereens. And the world would be one Gale shorter, which is bad. And probably the whole party, because there'd be no way in the hells he gets in there on his own and they manage to get clear at the same time. He doesn't even know the range of it; for all they know it could level the coast and everyone's fucked regardless.

I can see Gale most definitely leaving the conversation convinced that the other two were misreading the situation with Mystra, as much as he's bolstered by their care for him. And then the night comes and he's alone with his thoughts about it. And things start popping to the surface of his memory that--were it anyone but Mystra doing them--would seem suspect. Which is going to be rough. Gale's going to be going through it for like a solid day before starting to come to terms. Largely that fast because there's not a lot of time between wandering the shadowcursed lands and resting after shades kick their asses. The final scene with the starry sky probably happens as they near the towers and he realizes that--complicated feelings about Mystra aside for now--they're right. He wants to live and if they say he deserves to, then he just might at that.

I just. nnn emotions.

[britishassistant]

Gale’s Excellent Adventure (3)

Once upon a time, the sight of Elminster strolling into his general vicinity would be cause enough itself for gladness and joy.

Now though, as Gale watches the wizard follow the scouting party into their camp among the strange red-leaved trees, he’d do anything to ensure the man vanished into thin air as he’s so fond of doing whenever the tab comes due.

“Elminster? What are you doing here?” He hears himself ask.

“The very same, Gale.” His old friend scolds. “And a fair bit miffed he is too, finding himself forced to expose his best pair of boots to so many miles of country road on your behalf. Why, if your young friend hadn’t lead me here, I’d be wandering still.”

Yuu ducks their head as they mumble a reply, skin slightly too dark and too vivid a pink to really show them blushing. It dawns on Gale that they might be starstruck.

The already short wick of his patience is rapidly dwindling with every passing moment.

“Yes, yes, yes, be that as it may, you said you’ve come here on my behalf, did you not? For what purpose?”

“I was bid to spare neither time nor my own self to find you.” The older wizard intones. “She sent me, Gale. You know of whom I speak.”

He can’t feel his fingertips or toes. There’s a feeling weighing down the pit of his stomach, but he’s unable to tell if it is elation or despair.

“But why?!” He hears his own voice demand. “Out with it Elminster, tell me!”

“Young man, has your time away from Waterdeep washed away your decorum as well as your patience?!” The scolding tone is a familiar but unwelcome reminder of Gale’s mentoree days, usually when he’d forgotten to take proper precautions. “Nigh a tenday I’ve gone without honest fare worthy of the name—drank naught but what the sky entitled my thirst! Why, some bread, cheese, and a cup of wine would appear unto me a feast! Surely you won’t begrudge me a mite of rest and respite before I get ‘out with it’?”

“We can always share a meal afterwards.” Yuu offers diplomatically. “Gale’s cooking is excellent, and it’s always best to enjoy the small pleasures only once all business has been cleared out of the way.”

Elminster inclines his head, a grandfatherly smile on his face. “And a great kindness that would be, my child. Even now, I do treasure my fond memories of his culinary talents! See Gale? Even in these barren parts, the art of hospitality can beget inspired new acts if only one keeps up the practice.”

“Oh, for the love of…” He mutters, rolling his eyes.

“Fine, fine!” Elminster raises his hands, a twinkle Gale does not trust in his eyes. “I’ll turn a deaf ear to the clarion calls with which my scorned stomach beseeches me. Graver matters are at hand. Plenty to digest, after all. A good deal to stew over, if you will. Words ladled with import should be savored so as to better absorb their meaning, wouldn’t you agree?”

And there goes the last of Gale’s patience. “Elminster!”

A shadow comes over Elminster’s face, dropping the facade of genial old man he enjoys donning to delight the unwary.

After hemming and hawing for a moment, the older wizard sighs. “Gale, m’boy, I’ve come to address a most pressing matter. So I shall speak plainly, without any of the frills that usually ornament my speech.”

Gale feels his throat go dry. There’s a sudden warmth at his side, and he looks down to see Yuu glancing up at him, concern writ in their brow.

“I’m here on behalf of Mystra. The message and charge I bring you are hers.” Elminster says, slowly.

“Wait, so you’re here as an actual, divine messenger?” Yuu pipes up. “Is this usual for you, Master Elminster?”

“Oh yes,” Gale adds, leaning in conspiratorially. “After all, it would hardly do for Mystra to ever deign to dirty her delicate feet on these roads. What if she gained a callus?”

He feels rather proud of Yuu’s surprised snort of laughter, and of Elminster’s disapproving stare at the two of them.

“You know where you went wrong, Gale. We needn’t dwell on that here and now. But even so, you are to be given a chance at redemption.”

He can hardly believe it, his heart soaring. “Mystra is considering forgiveness?”

Elminster sucks in his teeth. “She is considering what she considers forgiveness. Mystra knows well of your misadventures, and how they have brought you into contact with that more dire of evils, the Absolute. Given that she is forbidden from interceding herself by Lord Ao, she feels it is imperative that, given you have provided yourself with the perfect subterfuge through misrepresentation, you ought to obtain absolution through ensuring this threat is annihilated in such a way that is nigh unutterable in its thoroughness. In such a way that only you are capable of unleashing.”

Gale’s not sure he can feel his limbs. His head feels somehow light, floaty.

“I beg your pardon?” Yuu asks, voice gone low and dangerous.

“Mystra wants me to detonate the orb in my chest to end the Absolute.” Comes his voice, as though from far away.

“I, I understood that bit, although I will say my informed and final response is fuck that and fuck Mystra all the way to Amn.” There’s a flare of warmth and slight pinching around part of him that Gale determines is his hand once he focuses. “But what in all the hells does ‘subterfuge through misrepresentation’ mean?”

Somehow, impossibly, Gale feels his blood run even colder.

“While I know not your reasons for doing so, Mystra has judged that you have done well to pass yourself off as infected, to integrate yourself with these fine adventurers who were key to uncovering this cult’s machinations.” Elminster continues, condemning him almost gently. “But she decrees it is time to end the theatrics, Gale. You have placed yourself into the prime position to destroy the Absolute, and earn Mystra’s forgiveness. I have been instructed to gift you the means to do so.”

The feeling of the orb’s grasping hunger suddenly diminishing as if muffled does nothing to soothe the looming dread he feels hanging over his head.

“Gale, what’s—this is. What he’s saying is all nonsense, isn’t it?” Yuu beseeches, horror evident in their tone. “Isn’t it?”

Gale opens his mouth, to tell a lie, to explain himself—!

Under the teenager’s piercing gaze, he finds it closing without a sound. His shoulders slump.

A myriad of emotions flash across their face as they stumble away from him, each slipping away like quicksilver before he can identify what they could possibly be.

They bury their head in their hands and let out a short, slightly despairing scream.

“Yuu?” Comes Shadowheart’s worried query, like she and everyone else haven’t been eavesdropping from the first word. “Is everything all right?”

“Right.” Yuu states, pinching the bridge of their nose. “Right. Raise your hand if you knew that Gale does not have an illithid tadpole in his head.”

There’s a moment of silence.

“What?!” Astarion laughs, only a tad too high-pitched. “Why darling, that’s patently ridiculous!”

“Yes,” Shadowheart cuts in quickly, a conciliatory smile on her lips. “If he didn’t, we’d have all noticed in a matter of days, right?”

“R-right!” Wyll confirms. “And besides, Gale’s been nothing but a loyal and faithful companion to us for our entire journey thus far.”

“Too right!” Karlach agrees. “He didn’t even eat that many boots, really!”

“The wizard is integral to this camp.” Lae’zel insists. “Even with the ghaik tadpole, losing him would be the gravest error a fool could make.”

“So all of you then.” Yuu concludes with a fold of their arms.

“Every last one of you knew Gale was uninfected, and yet none of you saw fit to tell me, even when you knew we would be bringing him face to face with the Absolute’s forces? Knew what could have happened to him, if Minthara, or Priestess Gut, or the duergar had worked out he was uninfected?”

There is a long, uncomfortable silence.

“Well—!” Wyll starts.

“And don’t say we would’ve been able to protect him, because how could we properly arrange that if not everyone knew he needed it?!” Yuu blinks furiously, voice growing strained. “Gods, it’s just—! What did I do that—?! You do know I care about all of your wellbeings, right?!”

He blinks at them, discomforted at the not unfamiliar feeling of being chastened.

Karlach murmurs, “Course we do, soldier. Course.”

“Then in that vein,” Yuu jerks themself upright, advancing on Elminster so quickly it gives Gale whiplash. “Master Aumar, you would say that a great deal of your current notoriety and positive reception among the general public of Faerûn is contingent on the stories various bards, including the renowned Volothamp Geddarm, have spread about your magical prowess, yes?”

Gale is unsure that they should be calling the man who attempted amateur eye surgery on them “renowned”.

At any rate, Elminster humors them by nodding along. “Well, I would owe a certain part of my acclaim to Volo and others of his ilk, yes.”

“So you would agree that if, all of a sudden, those stories suddenly took a turn that cast you as a villain, a, a reviled cad whose deeds even devils frowned upon, your current existence and reputation would become much harder to maintain?” Their head is cocked to the side like some sort of demented corvid, eyes blazing coldly. “Or, for example’s sake, the existence and reputation of a goddess who may not thrive on faith but would certainly be diminished from her current station by a lack of it? By people renouncing their worship, tearing down her temples, that sort of thing?”

Elminster, Gale notes with a certain amount of trepidation, is no longer smiling. “Take heed of your words, young one. What are you implying?

“Nothing, really. Just, it’d be an awful shame if Mystra’s cult became as accursed as that of Bhaal or Bane.” Yuu murmurs silkily. “And let me assure you, Master Aumar. If anything happens to Gale of Waterdeep, I will personally ensure that Mystra is ripped from the Weave so I can hunt her down like the dog she is.”

Gale can’t quite hear what Elminster says in response to that. His heart is beating too loudly in his ears.

Yuu tilts their head. “You were the one to pronounce us god-killers. You don’t get to be surprised when we say we’ll fulfill the role you’ve given us. But perhaps I’m getting ahead of myself. All those in favor of telling Gale’s miserable ex to sod off?”

“Aye.” Wyll’s voice startles him as the Blade of Frontiers appears at his side.

“Aye.” Shadowheart steps out of nowhere to flank his other side, mace in hand.

“Fuck yeah.” Karalch snarls, looming in a way that promises barely contained violence.

“If this so-called goddess cannot recognize the intelligence and guile of one of her most exalted paramours, then she is far from worthy of the title.” Lae’zel decrees, one hand on the hilt of her greatsword.

“Well,” Astarion heaves a dramatic sigh. “It would be such a waste of a perfectly good cult. And a perfectly good Gale too, I suppose.”

He can’t help rolling his eyes, even as he has to blink away the sudden wetness springing to them.

“My child, I have no wish to place Gale in harm’s way,” Elminster soothes. “He is a dear friend, and nothing would make me happier than to see him whole, happy, and freed of the orb. But as Mystra’s chosen, I have the duty to deliver whatever missives she demands. The obligation to see them through, however, is something I am happily liberated from.”

Yuu’s hackles are still raised, so Gale attempts to clear the frog in his throat and sets a hand on their arm. “Thank you, Elminster. Even with this sorry news, I’m, I’m glad that it was you who I received it from.”

Elminster thankfully has the grace to nod to him. “I see I have throughly worn out my welcome, so I will take my leave of you all now, with the hope that a day may come when we are able to break bread together as promised. However, before I go, take heed of these words.”

He stares off into the distance, like he used to when tracing out certain threads in the Weave to form the most beautiful patterns Gale had ever seen. “Like moons make swell and wane nescient seas, so too do the sky-strewn gods ordain the fates of mortal days. And yet—a notion born of lonely hours—come ebb, come flow, come all that is beyond the breadth of our dominion: be a moon unto yourself.”

Yuu squints at him. “…Yeah, no, I’m sorry, but I’m training to be a bard and I can’t even make any sense of that.”

Elminster chuckles. “Then perhaps I shall leave the twists and turns of phrasing to storysingers like yourself and Volothamp. Farewell, my friends. May we meet again under more favorable circumstances.”

And with that, his old friend vanishes into thin air.

The rest of the camp stays gathered around him for several moments, which does nothing to help his runny nose or inconveniently leaking eyes.

Gradually though, the rigid, battle-ready postures slump slightly, weight shifting from foot to foot and back again.

Karlach, bravest of them all, decides to take the plunge. “Yuu—”

“Don’t.” The teenager’s voice cracks like a whip as they pull themselves away from the group, shoulders still tense and trembling despite the absence of danger. “Not. Not right now. Just.”

“Come now darling, be reasonable.” Astarion coaxes, feigned impatience thinly veiling what Gale realizes might be genuine worry. “After all, this is hardly the first time any of us have kept secrets from you before, is it? Water under the bridge, surely.”

The glare they give in response to that particular pacification is enough to have even Gale flinching back slightly.

Then the tailless tiefling buries their face in their hands with a harsh exhale.

“Give. Give me five minutes.” They say, not looking at him. “Just. Just give me that and I’ll be. I’ll be better, I promise.”

Without waiting for an answer, they stride off between the trees, small form vanishing into the gloom.

“I feel I may be missing something.” Comes the deep voice of the druid from behind them.

“Hardly.” Pipes up a voice from around about hip height. “It’s rather simple altogether.”

Gale looks down to see that gnome Yuu is inordinately fond of frowning hard up at them all.

“After all, should you discover that your dear friend has been going behind your back and maintaining all sorts of deceptions and consorting with those who can only mean him ill, well. I should think that one has every right to feel a sense of, of betrayal when those sorts of things happen.”

“Can we kill him?” Astarion hisses, not quite quietly enough. “Please, can we? I’ll be ever so quick, I promise.”

“Yes, because that’s precisely the way to get back into their good books!” Shadowheart retorts. “Why not just murder Scratch or Munch too while we’re at it?”

“Nonsense. The dog is of great strategic value, and the cub has the potential to grow to be a strong ally.” Lae’zel dismisses. “The gnome is an acceptable loss.”

“Wh—I can hear you plotting my demise!” Barcus Wroot squawks.

“Nobody is murdering anybody.” Wyll decrees firmly, ignoring Astarion’s irritated click of the tongue. “But, it may be best if I to go after them. Make sure they don’t wander too far into the curse and get hurt.”

“You sure?” Karlach asks doubtfully. “They don’t exactly look like they want company. Might be better to let ‘em vent, yeah?”

“I’d rather ensure they’re alive to be cross at me than hollowed out by the shadow curse and left to rot.” Wyll insists.

“While that is a wise course of action.” Halsin rumbles, setting one hand on Wyll’s shoulder. “I am not so sure that it would be best for you to undertake it, my friend. This issue is one that must be treated at the root, rather than merely balming the symptoms.”

He pins Gale in place with an intent gaze. “What did you seek to obtain by feigning infection, Gale of Waterdeep?”

His mouth is dry as his tongue uselessly attempts to wet his lips.

“I wanted to help. I longed for the chance, amidst all my folly, to prove that surely I could do something good, for once?” The words croak out of him, shame a blazing bonfire in his gut as they escape. “I just—! I couldn’t bring myself to go back to my tower and lock myself away again. A stronger man, a wiser man would have. Alas, I am neither.”

He waits for the recrimination, for the disgust at his pathetic display. For the demand, finally, that he take his leave now that he is of use no longer.

Instead, he feels a large hand come to cup his arm and squeeze.

Halsin’s eyes are kind when Gale looks up at them. An oak inviting shelter in place of thorns warning intruders away. “I believe that, should you explain all of this to our young friend, you will find you have more of both qualities than you credit yourself for.”

It only takes half a minute or so of walking before Gale comes upon a raised, dilapidated shack that is miraculously within the light of the torches they set up at the perimeter.

The wood creaks under his boots as he climbs the steps, then passes through the empty doorframe.

His eyes pick out a faint glow of light through the worn boards of the walls, which he’s able to use to pick his way towards a doorway and peek through it.

What greets him is a ruined bedroom, the remnants of some family’s lives and furniture, and a small fire struggling valiantly in what’s left of a hearth. A strange, lumpy figure is silhouetted by the flames.

“Yuu? Is that—” He gets close enough for the figure to resolve itself into three. “—ah. May I inquire as to why you’ve embarked on a new career as a bedroll?”

Scratch gives a little whuff where he’s lying across Yuu’s chest, unable to move much from where the owlbear cub has its head pillowed on his back, the rest of it gently crushing Yuu’s legs.

“Helps.” Comes the small reply. “The, the weight. Keeps me here. Makes my thoughts stop corkscrewing my brain.”

“Huh.” Gale considers this. “So, if we gave you a particularly heavy rock—”

“Doesn’t work as well.” Yuu says. “Maybe if it were in a backpack? But being soft and fuzzy is part of it, I think. One of my friends from Night Raven, a druid. He’d wildshape and do this because he worked out it helped. Stop me going off the deep end during the Descent.”

“Hm.” Gale has never found the Descent of Elturel into the Hells a pleasant topic to contemplate by any means, but he’s only recently developed the visceral hostility he feels towards the event with every reminder that Yuu was one of its unfortunate survivors.

They must misinterpret his vocalization, as their eyes dart to him, blue irises glowing eerily against black sclera.

“Well,” They clear their throat as they begin to shift upright, nudging at Scratch and gently displacing Munch the owlbear with a displeased chirrup. “I suppose it’s been near enough to five minutes—”

“Actually, I was wondering if I might, might join you?” Gale’s words trip over themselves in his haste to get them out. “I feel as though I. No, I unequivocally owe you an explanation. An apology, at the very least.”

They pause in the act of sitting up with a weary sigh while one hand pinches divots into the bridge of their nose. “Gale, you don’t—! I’m not going to abandon you out here, or impose some ridiculous punishment, or whatever it is you think will happen if I’m not pacified—”

“That, This isn’t about making excuses for myself!” He insists, perhaps a trifle too heatedly for the tone he’s trying to set.

Watching the teenager tense, staring up at him warily with a protective hand on Scratch’s back, that leaves a foul taste on the back of his tongue.

With a few grunts as his knees protest their ill-treatment, he sinks down to a seated position next to them on the hard, uneven floor. He has no idea how they could stomach lying on it with two animals atop them.

“I didn’t come here to beg clemency in hopes of lessening any retribution.” He does his best to keep his voice soft and level, intent to soothe. “I came to apologize because I took advantage of a misunderstanding to mislead you, even as I imposed upon your trust and aid. You did not and do not deserve that, and I would like to make this wrong right by whatever means you deem fit.”

The tiefling stares at him in silence for several moments.

Munch the owlbear decides to live up to his name by taking small, cautious nips at the laces of his boots.

“You get a furrow in your brow,” They say abruptly. “And you tilt your head to the right slightly whenever I say or do something you disapprove of.”

Gale can only blink at the non-sequiter.

“Shadowheart tilts her head forward and exhales through her nose,” They continue, “But Lae’zel rolls her eyes and clicks her tongue. Astarion does this sneer with his left eyebrow arched, Wyll scrunches his nose like there’s a bad smell, and Karlach scoffs and crosses her arms right over left instead of left over right.”

“That…is oddly specific.” Gale declares, reduced to stating the obvious. He tries to covertly tug his laces away from Munch’s beak without getting bitten himself.

Yuu shrugs, fingers carding carefully through the fur of the dog in their lap. “I notice. I’ve always had to. We keep seeing so many others who don’t make it, who become gnoll food, prey for the Absolute, or orge food, or Hells, Nadira survived the Grove and then got tortured to death by Gith!”

Gale searches his memory, but is unable to match a face to the name. “Sorry, who was…?”

“The lady we saved from the bugbear, with the soul coin. The one Shadowheart didn’t like.” Yuu clips out. “Point is, she’s dead, and I have no worldly clue if the others from the Grove are as well, and the only reason I can parse as to how I’m somehow not is that all of you are with me. And given that I have unfortunately grown rather attached to the lot of you, if there is anything I can do to ensure that we stay together, that we survive whatever Moonrise Towers and the cult will throw at us, I’ll do it.”

Tremors wrack their frame as they speak, words pouring faster and faster as if escaping a dam.

“And I thought I had it under control. I thought I knew how to keep everyone happy so they wouldn’t get fed up with the kid who isn’t even a real bard and just fuck off. I actually thought, ‘hey, maybe this time I’ll be able to keep all my people safe!’ And then it turns out you weren’t hiding what I thought you were, and everyone else was in on it too, and to top it all off a fucking goddess has ordained your demise, as if I could have seen that coming.”

Their shoulders round as they slump in on themselves, curling around Scratch while the hound noses at them, letting out a soft whine.

“I’m scared.” Gale has to lean in to catch the whisper of the words. “I’m so, so scared. I barely know what to do, and even if we’re, we’re fine now, I can’t stop thinking about what would happen if we weren’t. About what could happen so we aren’t. And I’m so tired.”

Gale will be the first to confess he’s never truly had much experience with offering comfort. Tara, his mother, and Mystra all were far too indomitable to need soothing from him, for all that the former two seemed to exist in a permanent state of mild worry about his wellbeing and exploits. And though he has obtained some trifling experience on his travels of late, he still feels very much a dilettante rather than an expert. All the more so when an overeager owlbear cub has decided his subtle attempts to extricate himself must be precursor to a marvelous game of tug of war, and has been in the process of removing one of his boots from his person.

But it feels right to reach an arm around Yuu’s shoulders and tug them into leaning against his side, his other arm coming up to encircle them in a loose embrace.

There’s a tense moment.

“What are you doing?” Comes an honestly bewildered voice in the vicinity of his shoulder.

“Ah,” His fleeting confidence begins making its way to the door. “Hugging you?”

“Huh. Why?”

“Seemed the thing to do. Best way to express my sentiments, though I’ll admit I’m out of practice.”

Then he feels the weight of their head settle slightly more firmly on his shoulder, body shifting closer to him, horns poking his chin.

“S nice.” Their voice is small.

Gale rests his chin out the crown of their head, exhaling.

If their shoulders begin to hitch under his hands, and if he feels the fabric over his own begin to grow ever so slightly damp, well.

He won’t be the one to tell.

As touching as the moment is, however, it becomes rather difficult to maintain once Munch’s tugging at his boot starts to feel like it’ll take his ankle off along with it.

“Augh, ow, ow, stopit, OW!”

Yuu pulls back to look. “Ah—no, see, pulling’ll only encourage him, hunting instincts, can’t help them. C’mere Munch! Come on!”

At the sight of the teenager’s outstretched and wiggling fingers, the owlbear finally releases Gale with an excited hoot, near bowling him over in its eagerness to shove its head into Yuu’s hand.

They snort out a laugh as they pet between the tufted ear feathers. “There we are, there’s my fine fellow, this is what you were after all along, wasn’t it? Yes, yes, you’d like more, wouldn’t you? Your wish is my command, mi’lord Munch.”

Gale can only sit back and huff out a chuckle as Scratch, who had admittedly been quite patient during up until this point, began whuffing and pushing himself into Yuu’s space for petting himself, forcing them to split their attention and hands between both animals.

He reaches out and tries to mimic their scratching motions on the owlbear’s forehead.

Munch lets out a pleased coo, butting his head insistently into Gale’s hand instead.

Yuu hums, a soft smile playing over their face. “He’s saying that he won’t bite you anymore, no matter how delicious you smell. You’re a friend now.”

“Well, if it saves my poor boots, I’m glad to be.” He jokes, his tone softening to sincerity as their laughter fades away. “I’d enjoy getting to be a better friend to you, as well. You needn’t shoulder all this on your own, Yuu. We aren’t about to, to vanish the moment something goes wrong. I mean, look at Lae’zel! You asked her to turn on Vlaa’kith—!”

“That was different!” They try to argue. “She would’ve died in that machine, and if we’d given up the artefact—!”

“But she trusted in you, trusted in all of us enough to turn her back on everything she’d known and believed without question, because of the flaws we helped bring to light.” He takes a hand away to tap their chest, returning it to the owlbear at the disgruntled grumble. “Karlach’s only hale and hearty because you convinced Wyll and us that there had to be more than meets the eye to the situation, and lo and behold! Halsin, Barcus, the tieflings in the grove, the druids, the gnomes, the myconids, that rather unpleasant pregnant woman, all of them owe us their lives because you convinced us to intervene, and you could not have done so were you not someone worthy of the faith we placed in you. Someone we would need to be most foolish indeed to abandon, and I, for one, pride myself too much on my intelligence to ever submit to being a such a thing and would strongly discourage it in anyone else.”

There’s a moment of quiet as Gale lets them digest his impassioned tirade.

“You know what would really convince me of the truth of all this?” The gaze they meet his with is all steely conviction, forged in the fires of their journey thus far. “If you would swear to me that you wouldn’t blow yourself up to destroy the Absolute, or for any other reason.”

He can’t keep eye contact, dropping his face to scrub one hand over it and through his beard. “I—! It’s hardly that simple, Yuu, you cannot tell me that should it grant us the opportunity to rid the world of the Absolute for good—!”

“—It wouldn’t be worth it.” They retort, head held high. “A world without you in it, Gale of Waterdeep, is hardly one that merits saving. It comes far too high at the cost. And if you’d like me to, I will march back to camp right now and ask all the others to tell you exactly the same, since you’re so keen on doubting my word.”

The lump is back in his throat, and he nearly forgets the point he wants to argue. That he must argue.

“It’s not that I’m doubting any word of yours, but, but why? I’m hardly anyone—maybe I was worthy once, while Mystra favored me, but that does no credit to my name now, especially not with the long list of fraud to add to my person! I’m not even infected, for pity’s sake! Like as not I wouldn’t even be here if I had simply told you the truth from the outset!”

“Gale. You’re a talented wizard with whose knowledge of illithids is only outclassed by Lae’zel.” Yuu says, tone flat. “Who is a devotee of a people whose entire culture is dedicated to destroying them. If I’d known you were uninfected when we first met, I’d have given you all the gold in my pockets to keep you with us, and then some. Even more so once I worked out what a kind and loyal man you are.”

“Oh.” Gale replies. “Hm.”

“The offer doesn’t stand now though.” They take no small amount of glee in informing him. “You’re trapped by the cute owlbear and all of our friends loving you. Such a shame. Should have taken it when you had the chance.”

He rolls his eyes for the second time that night, elbowing the giggling teenager. “Be serious, you.”

As their mirth subsides, the two of them stare into the struggling fire, the animals accompanying them slipping off into dozes with the weak crackles from the hearth.

“I cannot swear to never activate the orb.” Gale starts hesitantly. “That would be far too reckless and irresponsible of me, regardless of what anyone says given the threat we face. But. But I will swear only to consider it as a final resort. Only if all other options have been exhausted, and there seems to be no light out of the darkness we find ourselves in.”

“And that’s the best I’m going to get?” Yuu asks. At his nod, they exhale heavily, jaw set. “Fine. But only after all other options have been tried and failed. And I do mean all of them, no matter how…unpleasant. Do you so swear?”

He holds up his hand, solemn. “On the Weave itself, I swear. May it recognize and enforce my vow.”

There’s a slight tingling in his vocal cords, his fingers, around the newly muffled orb in his chest. Magic taking his words and binding them tight as any promise ring.

Yuu smiles shakily at him.

“Well. We’d best be getting back to camp then. Need all our heads together if we’re going to think our way out of this.”

“Right,” Taking the hand they proffer to pull him up as he steadies himself on aching knees, Gale smiles back. He feels lighter when he follows them out of the cabin than he has since he woke aboard the Nautiloid.

“Excellent. Lead on.”

[britishassistant]

Gale’s Excellent Adventure 2 (Teaser)

Gale thinks that things are going well so far!

They’ve met and recruited a githyanki warrior—the first Gale’s ever seen outside of illuminations in scholarly texts!—and a rather dashing warlock who answers to the moniker “The Blade of the Frontiers”.

The fellow was hunting a war-devil, who turned out to be an unaccountably lovely tiefling with an infernal engine in her chest as well as a mindflayer tadpole on the brain.

He is looking forward to learning more about this exotic trio over the course of their travels together. And he’s learned so much more about his current companions too!

There’s been a few…fractious moments between certain individuals who shall remain nameless, but he’s certain everyone will be fast friends soon enough! They’re all in this together, bonded over getting rid of the mindflayer tadpoles.

And best of all, no one’s noticed a thing.

He’s been patient, and observant, and has learned enough by now to mimic the spasms the others get when their tadpoles are…tadpoling. Their mental communications are harder to fake, but nothing a sneaky “detect thoughts” can’t fix.

Yes, he’s blended in splendidly, if he does say so himself.

“Gale? Can I have a word?”