#Social Anxiety Really Ruins the Isekai Experience

[hard-boiled-criminal]

Social Anxiety Really Ruins the Isekai Experience

Previously known as: Brimstone from the Throat

Chapter 1- The Pain Means You're Still Alive

Next Chapter >

Masterlist

AO3 Mirror

Nothing could be heard over the roaring of the intense, ever-burning flames. Their own screams died out long ago; they had gotten used to the constant agony, though that didn’t mean it hurt any less. Hope was scarce in this place. They dared to hope once, but it was snuffed out as quickly as it was lit. This was their only option. They needed to go outside of his influence. Somewhere far, far away. They could only hope the power they had been slowly accruing over many millennia was enough.

They had no one but themselves. With a weak, lonely hand, they reached out, bright white flames licking at their already-scorched fingers.

Though nothing was there, they tapped at the air with their clawed middle finger, the digit bouncing back as if it hit a wall. Delicate bands of magic, glowing and cerulean blue, began to ripple out from where their finger seemingly touched something. They waited patiently until the rings counted seventy-two, the outer one spanning three meters in diameter, its pattern not unlike the rings of a tree stump. Then, it was almost silent, the hellfire muffled for the first time in centuries.

For a brief moment, it was quiet.

The almost-silence never sounded sweeter. As if time began to flow in reverse, the bands were all pulled towards the center, gathering and merging together, the rings too tight together to be distinguishable from one another. What used to be a soft glow turned into a blinding light, so bright it lost its color. The only trace of blue was the faint halation it gave off. An eruption of raw magical energy burst forth from it, the immense wave of power almost smothering the hellfire around them, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. The explosion, at first deafening, became strangely quiet. True silence. Frightening silence. The magic had created a vacuum through which no sound could travel. All they could hear was the sound that traveled through their bones–through their body: the sound of their skin, muscles, bones, organs, all being scorched and turned to ash before regenerating, only to burn once more– An awful bubbling and gurgling as their blood boiled and cooked their flesh from the inside out until it too liquified and flowed off their bones in a thick, molasses-like sludge.

With the rush of air that came to fill the emptiness left behind came a swirling mist in front of them that began to stretch. It tugged unnaturally in different ways, distorting its shape and texture, before the center fell away to an empty blackness as dark and desolate as the Void. Through the emptiness of the portal they could see nothing, but they could feel it–something they had almost forgotten. Deep, deep down, far, far in they sensed the old energy of a place they once called a home. A realm they had not visited since before the blood war began. A place where he had no influence. A place he didn’t know of. A place that has since lost all but the faintest traces of magic.

This was their only chance. Nerves flickering, they sent out their consciousness, their mind traveling through the inter-planar channel. They had to be quick; they did not know how long they could keep a channel traversing the phlogiston open. They knew when they arrived. They could feel it when their consciousness passed through the crystal sphere; the sudden lethargy assured them they had entered the realm devoid of magic. They allowed themself to feel relief. Then there were the muffled voices. Quiet, speaking in words they could not hear. Then more and more, innumerous voices speaking in a cacophony of unintelligible words. So many voices to the point it sounded like static–so much louder than they remembered.

Then, through it all, a single melody, crystal clear, resounded. A melody unlike anything they’d heard before. 

And so, they listened.

Then spoke.

...

Next Chapter >

[hard-boiled-criminal]

Social Anxiety Really Ruins the Isekai Experience

Previously known as: Brimstone from the Throat

Chapter 5 - Why You Shouldn't Plague Your Patron With Your Earthling Pickup Lines

< Ch 4 | Ch 6 >

>Ch 1<

Masterlist

Ao3 Mirror

I think this is fun, so here’s a link to a youtube playlist of the music I listened to while writing this chapter: BftT - ch5��

If you want, you can think of these as the songs our isekai protagonist attempts to play.

Also, it’s time to play spot the reference~ If you spot any, congrats, you win bragging rights.

Also fuck tenses. Present and past tense are getting jumbled.

The three of you head back up the stairs to the tiefling’s area as the grove, for lack of better terms to call it, new lute in hand. You pass by the young tiefling girl, safely reunited with her parents who smile at your group as you approach. 

Gale stops in front of them and asks them for a bit more information on the gnolls after they thank your group for helping their daughter.

At the top of the staircase stands the rest of the group. None look impatient, save for Lae’zel, so it’s probably safe to say they only met up here recently. The rest shuffle around a bit,   making room for the three of you to join the circle they’ve already made.

“Now that we’re all here,” Tav begins after everyone settled, “Let’s discuss what we’ve found.”

“Chk! There is no need,” Lae’zel states. “The tiefling-” she emphasized her correct pronunciation “-has marked on the map where they came across my kin. We must head there to find the crèche!”

“Lae’zel, I understand your eagerness to go, but we should still hear what everyone else has to say,” Tav tries to placate her. “There is also a chance they were a scout, so the crèche may not be in that direction. The more information we have on the surrounding area, the easier time we’ll have pinpointing its exact location.”

Lae’zel crosses her arms and scowls. “I am loath to admit it, but your words have sense in them. Very well. We shall do things your way.”

“All right,” Tav smiles and walks over to a nearby crate, the rest of you following. There she spreads open a map on the crate’s surface, an area to the far northwest circled in charcoal. “This-” she points to the circle “-is where Zorru spotted the githyanki. And here-” she points to an area south of the githyanki sighting “-and around here is where the adventurers were attacked by goblins and the First Druid, Halsin, was captured. It seems the reason the adventurers were headed that way in the first place was to find a treasure called the “Nightsong” that’s hidden in the temple located here. A wizard in Balder’s Gate is willing to pay a great sum to whoever retrieves it for them. What’s everyone else found out?”

“There’s a pack of gnolls also to the northeast, and their numbers seem to be quite substantial,” Gale states your group’s findings. “I think it’s safe to say there’s at least twenty of them last seen in this area,” he points to an area northwest of the grove, closer than where the githyanki was spotted. “We also heard a small bit about some ruins to the south that might be occupied, but we didn’t get a chance to ask exactly where that was.”

Wyll points to an area a short distance south of the grove. “That’s probably around here. We found out there have been sightings around here of multiple people unaffiliated with the grove, but we’re not sure how many. The ruins are where they are probably camping out. I want to investigate as soon as possible. I’m not comfortable having others so close to the grove without knowing if they’re hostile or not, especially when there’s a chance that devil could be there. There’s also a harpy nest near the beach you can reach by going north through the part of the grove the druids are currently occupying, but as long as we don’t approach, we should be fine.”

“We have three options then: northeast, east, and south,” Tav gestured to the three areas discussed on the map. “Where shall we head?”

“We head northeast to where the other of my kind was spotted. We need to head to the crèche for purification!” Lae’zel says, resolute in her decision.

Wyll shook his head. “That area is a day's walk from here, and there’s no guarantee they’re even still there. I’d like to check out the ruins south of here before anything else. It would be remiss of us if we were to go elsewhere while a potential threat lurks near the grove.”

“We should probably head to the temple sooner rather than later. The likelihood of the First Druid’s survival falls with each passing day, assuming they’re still alive,” Gale offers his opinion. “That temple is probably the goblins’ camp as well. Scouting parties are usually smaller than the one we fought at the gate, so there’s a good chance that group were something like perimeter guards of their camp.”

“I’m for the temple and goblin camp. Since we gave our word to rescue Halsin, along with the fact he may be able to cure us of our tadpoles, I think we should head there first. 

“Hmm, goblins and musty decrepit ruins aren’t all that appealing to me,” Astarion grimaces. “I’d rather take my chances with the gith.”

“I’d rather not,” Shadowheart scowls at the thought of agreeing with Lae’zel. “The ruins are nearby and might have something useful in them.”

It’s a three-way tie. Two votes for each option. Their gazes fall on the tiebreaker: you. 

You point to yourself, [Me? Really? The person with decision paralysis has to make the choice]? {Performance = 17, Success}.

“We’re at an impasse and you’re the only one left to vote,” Tav says. “So, where do you think we should go? Which reminds me, if you have anything else to add,” she reaches into her pack and pulls out a book and a charcoal pencil wrapped in cloth, “you can try to write them down to communicate.”

You take them gratefully and open the book to show nothing but blank pages: a notebook. The thought is sweet, even though you know writing things down won’t help. ‘I guess it’s up to me then.’ You look at the map and bring your hand to your mouth in thought. ‘If we were to go towards the githyanki, we’d also have to be prepared to fight through gnolls. If we don’t know the numbers of the people in the ruins, it could be dangerous, but there’s probably fewer than twenty if there’s only been minimal sightings… Since this is D&D, It’d probably be better to go there for exp to get strong enough to take on the larger amounts of enemies. Plus, it’s close to camp where we can rest if there’s more of them than expected and we have to rest.’ You quickly write down your reasonings for going to the southern ruins, minus the bit about exp, and show it to the others.

You already knew they wouldn’t be literate in your language, but watching their faces twist in confusion was a bit funny. Besides, even on the off chance someone recognized the letters of the English alphabet, your mix of cursive and print in handwriting shitty enough to confuse a native reader would throw them off any trails.

Gale’s expression untwists from confusion to one of realization. “Perhaps I had it the other way around. It’s not that you've lost the ability to speak Common, but that you’ve gained the ability to understand it.” His eyes flicker from your notes to you, full of intrigue.

[Exactly.] ‘Not like I even want to tell them the actual truth so let’s go with that.’

“These tadpoles are truly out of the ordinary. In a different circumstance they would make quite the interesting study.”

“Either way, none of us can read this, so can you point to where you decided on?” Tav asks, steering the conversation back on track.

You point to the southern ruins.

“It’s decided then. Let’s stock up and prepare, then head out.”

A huff of annoyance from Lae’zel was the only complaint from the group, relieving the pressure you felt of being stuck with the ultimate choice of where to go. Wyll volunteered to get more supplies, seeing as he was already acquainted with the traders in the grove. Tav, being in charge of inventory and distribution, went with him.

‘What am I supposed to do now?’ You thought as you watched the two of them leave, the rest of the party staying nearby, but not striking up conversation with each other. You look at your hands, one occupied with a book and pencil, the other a lute. ‘I should be able to fit the lute in my bag even if its neck is sticking out, right?’ You place down your things on the now map-less crate, followed by your bag. Your bag was empty save for your tent and bedroll, which luckily attached to the outside of the bag anyway. You carefully place your lute in the pack in a way that will allow the neck to stick out without preventing the bedroll from being attachable. Your notebook–or would it be more apt to call it a journal?- and pencil are stuffed into f your pants’ empty front pocket, just big enough to fit both items. 

‘Whoever designed these pants, I love you.’

“What, are you not going to pass the time with another one of your incredible tunes?”

You jump at the sudden voice and turn around to see Astarion, much closer than you were expecting. ‘Why is he so good at sneaking up on people?’

Narrowing your eyes in a pseudo-glare, you wrap your hand around the neck of your gifted lute. [Have you already forgotten the chord I played for you? I can make you suffer again. Don’t tempt me.] {Intimidation = 11, Success}.

“I was only joking, it’s not like I want to hear that horrid noise again,” he quickly backpedals. “But you must admit it’s strange that you carry around instruments and take every opportunity to not play them. With the way you avoid attention rather than attract it, it makes sense you can’t be a bard: you’d be awful at it.

Your gaze sharpens to a full glare. You make no movements. Just stare. ‘He’s doing this because he’s bored and wants a reaction out of you. Don’t give the bastard the satisfaction.’ You turn around and start affixing your bedroll to your pack. 

Disappointed at your lack of reaction, Astarion frowns with a quiet “hmph” and walks away.

You turn and watch him approach his next victim, who looks to be Gale, as you hoist your pack onto your shoulders. A single thought crosses your mind at the sight of his stupid back: ‘I wish I had tape so I could stick a note to his back that says “cuck me.”’

Wyll and Tav returned a few minutes later and passed out their spoils to the others. You receive two healing potions, which you store in an easily accessible area of your bag, and a torch.

“Here, you should change into this,” Tav hands you a set of padded armor, much like Wyll’s, except dyed blue instead of red. She also hands you a set of underclothes to wear under the armor to prevent chafing. 

[Cool. So, uh, where should I change]?

Donned in your newly acquired set of uncomfortable clothes and armor, you rejoin the rest of the group. Your notebook is stowed away in your pack and your phone is safely tucked away in your new pants’ pockets. 

“Everyone ready to head out?” Tav’s question receives affirmations from everyone and a nod from you. “Then let’s get moving.”

The wooden gate separating the grove from the outside world doesn’t budge right up until you’re close enough to touch it, and it closes as soon as the tiefling handling the winch confirms your entire group has left. Your group walks in mostly silence, with one or two quips here and there, everyone focused on keeping an eye out for any unwelcome travelers. It’s boring and you find yourself reaching for your phone multiple times right before you stop yourself each time.

‘Am I really that dependent on instant gratification? I really do just reach for my phone when I’m bored, don’t I?’ You remove your hands from your pockets and grasp the straps of your pack. Hopefully, keeping your hands even somewhat occupied will help prevent any slip-ups. ‘Just, think about something- anything- else. Like, that song you’ve been listening to a lot recently.’ You let the melody from your memories flow into your head. Your footsteps are quick to move in sync with the imaginary beat, your head soon subtly bobbing along too.

And then it happens. The melody gets stuck at that one part where it loops endlessly in your mind and you can’t move on. You’re stuck. The only way to get unstuck is to listen to it, but you can’t. You’d need your phone. Not even the gods know when you’ll escape the loop.

‘...Astaroth, you’re so lucky you’re not here right now to experience this torture, this curse I’ve been burdened with…If you can hear this, for your own wellbeing, don’t come back yet. You will regret it. You don’t have to suffer with me.’

Your group travels back along the path you had followed the previous day, Tav leading the way through the natural rock arch where you had originally found Lae’zel suspended in the air. Oblivious to your suffering, everyone continued onward towards the gray stone pillars you just barely caught a glimpse of before Tav came to a sudden halt and crouched, then motioned for everyone to do the same. She slowly inches forward and beckons everyone to follow. {Stealth = 19, Success}.

You stay near the back of the group and watch as Tav peers around the stone and underbrush. She lifts up her hand and raises four fingers. Four people. Supposedly deeming it safe, she stands out of the crouch and signals the rest of you to stand and follow. She strides into the stone ruins with confidence. A short man, a gnome by the looks, standing on a stone half-wall comes into view as you pass the stone pillars of the ruins. The half wall overlooks a substantial drop to a staircase leading towards a door to the ruins, and an identical wall across from that with a human standing guard there. The construction of the ruins makes it feel like a canyon with stairs instead of a river running through it. 

The gnome whips around when he hears your group approaching, “You! Not another step, hear me? Boss! Got company up here,” He calls out to his left, where you can see a human and another gnome down a flight of stairs, standing near a statue.

Immediately taking notice, the two of them clamber up the stairs until the other gnome stands in front of Tav, “What’s this then–trying to creep around us and loot the crypt? Not happening. Or is it the ship you’re after? Don’t matter either way–it’s ours, all of it.”

“Your loud words hide fear, confusion. Looting that ship will bring you no peace,” Tav states with a steadfast authority you weren’t expecting.

“Well, uh, in that case… C’mon you lot, no point in gettin’ killed. Second worm gets the cheese, an’ all…” The gnome quickly acquiesces, his bravado having vanished to leave naught but nervousness.

“Uh, second mouse gets the cheese, no?” The human man corrects him.

“Nobody’s getting any damn cheese! Now move it!”

The four people, looters you guess, are quick to scurry off.

“It would have been quicker to kill them,” Lae’zel comments once they’re out of earshot.

“Maybe, but we need to conserve our energy,” Tav explains. “If the devil Karlach is in the crypt, we’ll have an intense battle to fight. The less strength we waste, the better.”

“This devil best put up a good fight, if nothing else, to be worth the time we are wasting.”

Tav leads your group down the stairs, around the crumbling area in front of the statue the boss gnome and human were loitering around earlier, and down the next flight of stairs through the manmade canyon, stopping in front of the heavy-looking door. She puts her ear up to the door for a moment. You watch her eyes narrow before she takes out her staff and pulls away from the door to over at the rest of the group. You watch as the others around you pull out their weapons.

‘Oh, uh, okay,’ still not used to your powers, you fumble a bit as you summon your violin and bow into your hands and get in ready-position.

Slowly, Tav reaches for and grabs the door ring. She pulls it taught, careful to not cause the metal to grind against each other and make any loud noises. With a step back she yanks on it. It doesn’t budge. She pushes at the door. Doesn’t budge. Locked. She opens her mouth to speak but another voice cuts her off before she can begin.

“That you, Gimblebock?” A muffled voice echoes through the door. “Everything all right out there?”

“Gimblebock triggered some trap,” Tav improvises, voice frantic but her expression says otherwise. “He needs help- now!”

“I told him it wasn’t safe out there. Get inside, and I’ll rustle up some bandages…”

You hear the click of the door being unlocked. Tav nods to the rest of you and opens the door. You all step inside. Hearing more footsteps than he was expecting, the man who unlocked the door turns around.

He takes a step back, “Who the hells?” Torch in hand, he quickly brandishes his sword with the other. “You’re dead!”

Tav is quick to rush in and strike him with her new quarterstaff she picked up from one of the merchants in the grove. As he stumbles from the impact, you clumsily place all four fingers down on the e-string and screech out a note, firing an eldritch blast at him. {Attack Roll = 17, Hit}, {Force Damage = 3}. He staggers, but doesn’t fall. With a snarling face he rushes towards Tav but doesn’t get very far when Astarion appears behind him and sinks a dagger into the side of his neck. He uses the blade to basically flick the man to the ground as he removes the dagger. You watch as the man sputters and gurgles on the floor, blood oozing from his wound in a steady stream and dripping from his mouth whenever it opens. He stops moving. He’s not conscious, but he’s still alive– the blood is still pulsing out of him, his heart still beating, working to pump blood and keep its body alive if only the blood wouldn’t gush out of the wound with each contraction. It won’t be long before he’s dead.

You take in a deep breath through your mouth as you look away. ‘Inhale… One… two… three… exhale…’ You breathe out through your nose, slow and controlled. ‘Seeing somebody dying is way worse than seeing a body that’s already dead.’ You carefully step around the soon-to-be-new-dead-body and down the half-flight of stairs.

«Would some good news help?»

‘Oh, hi… You know, when you said you were going away for a bit to recharge your powers or something, I was expecting longer than half a day.’

«I thought so as well. I’m not sure if it’s a side effect of the tadpole or that your body is now able to tap into magic or something else entirely, but you’re gaining power at an incredible speed. Your body seems to absorb the traces of mana in the world around you, including the runoff of spells that have been cast not just by you, but by others as well.»

‘So I’m a mana vacuum? Does this mean I can just keep absorbing and never run out of magic? That’s broken.’

«Well, not exactly. At the moment, your body isn’t able to accommodate such high amounts of mana. I’ve been siphoning the excess as it enters you for your own safety, but it has turned out to be enough to allow us to converse freely without depleting any energy. In fact, your intake is high enough where I’m still gaining a small amount as we speak.»

‘“For my own safety?” What would’ve happened if you weren’t taking the excess?’

« Much like water, it would travel through you like a river and find the path of least resistance where it could escape. If you don’t consciously let the mana out of you, it will erode at the weakest point until it makes an opening to escape from. Based on your memories, I think an apt analogy is if you were a balloon and mana is there air getting pumped into it. After a while, you would burst.»

‘...Fun.’

«On a lighter note, you’ve grown stronger and have new abilities! Hence, the good news I previously mentioned.»

‘Ooooh, a level up? Perfect timing! Now I don’t have time to think about things too deeply and have an existential crisis!’

«…We're going to have a talk later because I am very worried for your mental health.»

‘I’m sure it’ll be fine; I’ve dealt with worse.’

«…» Astaroth spoke no words, but the silence that felt like a leveling stare said enough.

‘...ugh, fine, we’ll talk about feelings and unpack this at camp.’

«Good.»

‘Soooo, what are those shiny new abilities you mentioned?’

He sighs softly «Since you’ve given your word, I suppose we can change the topic now. I have granted you a new invocation and spell. You can now read all writing and can cast the spell Illusory Script. The spell, while active, will allow the intended meaning of whatever you write to be understandable by any parties you choose.»

‘So it will auto-translate my writing? Cool, I’ll make sure they don’t know I can do this for as long as possible, but–’ you interject before Astaroth can say anything– ‘I’ll make sure to use it when necessary. I won’t let my anxiety be the reason my party members get hurt. So, thank you, Astaroth. Really.’

«Don’t worry; I won’t push you on the matter. In the meantime, I’ll be working on getting us a gift.»

‘Ooooooh, a gift? What is it?’

«That’s for me to know, and you to be surprised with.»

‘Awww, c’mooooon, just a hint?’

«Nope.»

‘Booooo! ‘

«Just go have fun exploring and watch out for traps.»

‘Fiiiiiine… Let’s listen to some music tonight.’ You smile.

«I’d like nothing more.»

You tuned back into your surroundings, seeing everyone carefully rummage through the boxes and other storage containers scattered about. To the left is a door. Straight in front is a long dining table with food and drinks left on it, a fireplace in the wall behind the head of it. The walls are wood in some places and stone in others. Your gaze is attracted to a metal plaque hanging crookedly on the wall to your right. Shadowheart and Tav are standing near it, looking at it as well. You approach to get a better look. She looks at you out of the corner of her eye when you stop next to her.

“Who were those prayers for?” She asks. “Normally the patron god is obvious– not here.”

You watch the letters on the plaque tremble and warp until they reassemble themselves into English: Hear my words as they might be your last. Be careful. ‘Ominous.’ You shrug in response to Shadowheart. You don’t know enough about the Faerûnian deities to know if these words are a catchphrase of sorts for one of them, but you weren’t about to expend a spell slot to ask. ‘Still, no matter how I look at it, this doesn’t read like a prayer.’

“A dead tongue,” Tav states. “Whoever worshipped here must be long gone,” She walks away after a small shrug of her own, off to investigate the rest of the room.

‘Wait, a dead tongue? But I can read it now… Holy shit, I am an archaeologist’s wet dream. Or philologist? Archaeological philologist? Ah, whatever.’

Tav soon gathered everyone together to approach the door across the room from the plaque after everyone had rifled through the supplies and grabbed what they deemed necessary to take. “Everyone ready to keep going?” A round of nods ran through the group. “Good. Let’s move.” Tav approached the door, and just like before, she put her ear up to it and listened. Her eyes glanced over to Astarion. “How good are you with the bow?” she whispered.

“Very,” Astarion whispered back with a smirk as he pulled out his bow and notched an arrow.

“Alright, everyone else, back up and get low.” 

The rest of us did as told, everyone in a crouch with only Tav and Astarion near the door. With a nod from him, Tave pulled the lever on the wall and the door swung open. Astarion took aim, pulled back and fired, all within the span of a high crouch jump.

‘Oh, he’s a rogue! Yeah that makes sense. Sneak attack damage is crazy good.’

“How’d you get past Andorn?!” the human woman Astarion had shot cried out. She didn’t get to say much before Gale hit her with a Ray of Frost and Tav rushed her and struck with her staff. As quickly as the fight had started, it was over. 

The threat gone, everyone raised from their sneaking poses and took a look around the room. To the left there was a door that was opened after Tav did her routine check. There wasn’t much inside but there was some sunlight that leaked through the gaps in the ceiling. To the right of the main room was a door with neither lock nor handle. You gave it a slight push, but it didn’t move. The last door, on the far wall across from where you entered, was the group’s next target. Tav didn’t even need to put her ear up against it; you could hear the loud conversation happening as you neared. Nobody needed to be told to ready their weapons this time. 

Astarion took to the front with Tav again. As soon as she pushed open the door, Astarion let loose the arrow on the first person he saw. Everyone rushed into the room after the first shot, taking advantage of the surprise attack. Tav rushed the man astarion hit, striking him in the stomach with a jab as soon as he turned around to face your group. Lae’zel leapt down the flight of stairs and sprinted to the left towards a duergar, hitting them with a mean downwards slash of her flame-wreathed blade she must have picked up from the fiend on the nautilus. 

You began to play the song you had stuck in your head earlier and took aim at the already wounded man in your direct line of sight. Another eldritch blast fired from your instrument. {Attack Roll = 6, Miss}. The man, seeing your magic projectile, ducks, the blast going past him and into the floor. Gale fires a ray of frost towards someone on the right– you glance over and see a tall man, but afford him no more time than that. Wyll runs down the stairs and throws his momentum into a lunge towards the man you missed, stabbing him in the chest with a rapier. The man falls to the ground, incapacitated. Shadowheart moves closer to the action, but stays out of direct contact, ready to sling healing spells at whoever needs them.

Target down, Wyll moves to the right and hexes the man Gale had hit. Tav runs towards the back where a human in robes readies her quarterstaff behind a statue of a robed figure. Astarion darts towards the duergar Lae’zel is in combat with, flanking them. He stabs them from behind with his dagger, and they fall  to the ground as soon as it is removed. Tav makes a strike against the figure in the back, who retaliates with a burst of ice, the sharp spikes cutting into her. You move your gaze to the man Wyll hexed. The statue provides too much cover for the person Tav is fighting for you to hit them. You’re now six seconds into your song and you’re able to fire off another blast. So you do. {Attack Roll = 6, Miss}. Your face scrunches into an annoyed scowl as you miss again.

Gale’s fire bolt hits the man you missed in the face, causing him to cry out and not notice Wyll in time before he’s stabbed with a rapier. Shadowheart moves close enough to help Tav with a healing word as Lae’zel dashes around the right of the statue and pulls out her bow, firing an arrow at the mage engaged with Tav, Astarion in quick pursuit. The man, after shaking off the two consecutive attacks, releases a thunderous warcry and slams his spiked club down on Wyll. The blow forces Wyll down, but he’s quick to roll away and get back up on his feet, thrusting at the man again. The raging human goes down. Astarion, having sprinted towards the mage alongside Lae’zel, was quick to rush in with another stab as soon as Lae’zel’s arrow hit its mark. The mage’s cry is silenced as Tav finishes her off with a brutal blow to the head with her staff.

Another round of everyone looting bodies and chests occurred, you sticking to looking in the chests only, and was interrupted by a ghastly shriek and rapidly clicking metal. 

“Wonder what that did,” you looked over to Tav when she spoke, seeing her hand on a metal pull bar held in the jaws of a humanoid skull.

“The sound came from the last room we were in,” Gale said. 

[I’ll go check it out], you mime. {Performance = 20, Success}. ‘I’ll gladly take a room with one body over one with four.’

“All right, everyone who’s done looting go with them,,” Tav says as she looks at the others. “The rest of us will follow soon after.”

Shadowheart and Astarion end up joining you, neither of them interested in rifling through the bookshelves in search of any magic scrolls or potential hidden passages after they finished looting the corpses. 

You don’t hesitate to leave the room, eager to escape the stench of iron growing more pungent by the minute. As soon as you crossed through the doorway, you didn’t have to go far to see the change: the immovable door was now open. Curious, you head in and see an altar devoid of anything except candles, two more headless statues and a tapestry hanging on the far wall where another door resides. 

‘It’s just an airlock, or well, a vestibule, technically. Kinda disappointing, not gonna lie.’

You decided you’d better do what Tav had been doing and put your ear up to the closed door. [Nothing,] you shake your head and lean your back against the door. [Guess we wait, then?] {Performance Roll = Natural 20, critical success}.

“I’ll go let them know what we’ve found, I suppose,” Shadowheart exits the room, leaving just you and Astarion.

 It’s silent, the two of you just waiting. Astarion flips his dagger out of boredom. Not much to really talk about when one of you can’t talk and the other isn’t striking up conversation. 

‘But (y/n),’ your mentally exhausted mind self pipes up, ‘what if we spoke anyway?‘

‘But I don’t want to talk, that’s like, our whole thing?’ You reply to yourself.

‘Okay but hear me out. If we do, it could be funny to see the bastard man so confused. Could be fun. Also, since he can’t understand us: no repercussions for what we say.’

‘You make a convincing argument, (y/n).’

‘Thank you, (y/n).’

“So, I, uh… heard you had twelve terabytes of pornography.”

“...” Astarion stops playing with his stabbing instrument and turns to look at you, not amused.

‘(y/n), why’d you open with that of all things?!’

‘I don’t know! I panicked and I thought it’d be funny and it just slipped out. Besides, you said this is a no repercussions discussion; I’m sure everything will be fine. Just be glad it wasn’t the Mississippi pick up line.’

‘Mmm, fair…’

«The “Mississippi pick up line?” Also, why are you talking to yourself?»

‘Oh no.’

“I hope you’re not using the fact that I don’t understand whatever it is that you're saying to say something foul to my face,” Astarion pulls you from your mind conversation.

[No, no no no, that’s not it, don’t worry.] ‘I mean, I’m not lying. He is trying to ask if I’m insulting him, right? Yeah.’

The room falls to silence again. 

«So, would you like to start with Mississippi or why you were talking to yourself how you talk to me?»

‘I’ll have you know that having conversations with yourself in your head is very normal where I come from, thank you very much.’

«I suppose I’ll take your word for it. And why’d you say “oh no” when I asked about Mississippi?»

‘Okay, so pickup lines. They’re a form of flirting that takes the structure of a question followed by the reason why you asked. For example: Are you from Tennessee? Because you’re the only ten I see. Probably doesn’t make sense since you don’t have cultural context but you get the point. That’s the structure. Now, Mississippi is a place from my world. And, ugh, I can’t believe I’m saYing this to my patron, but the line goes like this: Are you from Mississippi? ‘Cause you’re the only miss  whose piss I’d sippy.’

«…That was vile.»

‘...I know, and I’m deeply ashamed by how funny I find it.’

«I’ll forgive you if you say that to the next devil we come across.»

‘Bet.’

«That was merely a jest, but now I’m looking forward to it. Make sure you have Illusory Script ready to go.»

‘...Well fuck me, I guess. If there’s one thing I’m not, it’s the opposite of stubborn, so I guess I’m doing it.’

You then remember that the next devil you’ll probably come across will be Karlach. You know. The really handsome brain lady.

‘Oh no, she’s going to hate me! And I was so ready to flirt with her using Johnny Bravo lines, but now I’m doomed to make her feel disgusted by meeee-hee-hee-heeeee!’ You sob in your mind. ‘But mama didn’t raise no pussy. I said I’d do it, so I’ll do it, goddammit.’

«I don’t care who or what you’re attracted to, but please, no. devils.»

‘Isn’t like I’m gonna get anywhere with her when that’s what I’ll have to drop on her, but okay. No devils. I can work with that.’

The rest of the party is quick to arrive, spoils of gold coins, weapons, and some low-level spell scrolls taken off the corpses of your adversaries. Tav leads the way through the door into the next room” a large, open chamber.

“A crypt,” Lae’zel observes. “What riches might it contain?”

‘Oh no, are we gonna have to fight a necromancer? Everyone knows necromancers love to hang out in crypts.’

The room has two sets of large double doors on the left and right walls, parallel to each other. Your party goes through the door on the right. There is very conspicuous sarcophagus in the center of the room, and a few against the walls as well.

“A trap,” Astarion points out once he nears it. “Someone doesn’t like visitors.”

“Can you disarm it?” Tav asks.

“Easily.”

As he works on that, the rest of the group rifles through the other sarcophagi, which are thankfully not trapped. This room, like the others, is quickly looted, the only things of note being a magical spear given to Shadowheart, an old key, and a strange black coin. There’s also another door, locked until  it isn’t by Astarion’s deft hands, which leads back to the beach Tav and Shadowheart woke up on. Nothing more to find here, the group goes back to the previous room and approaches the other doors. 

After hearing no sound, Tav inserts the key taken from the sarcophagus, which thankfully unlocks the door. Another open concept room with an underground version of a sunken courtyard in the center with a large stature identical to the ones you’ve seen throughout the crypt, except this time with a head.

“Look at that!” Gale exclaims once he sees the statue. “Jergal, the Scribe of the Dead. This chapel must be ancient.”

‘Guess nobody worships him anymore, then?’

«Correct. He stepped down from his seat of godhood more than a millennium ago.»

‘Oh wow, then yeah, this place is old.’

“Armed scribes- but no sign of a struggle,” Tav mutters as you all pass by some clothed skeletons lying about while you walk through the room.

“The bones are intact,” Lae’zel comments. “Would not scavengers have disturbed them?”

‘Oh yeah, there was definitely a necromancer here before. I guess they’re not anymore?’

The wall on the right has collapsed, allowing some outside light to leak through, but it seems to lead to a cave that was likely carved out by the river running through it. You all head to the left, where the only door, besides the one you came through, stands. This one is luckily unlocked. There are more sarcophagi within the room, inside one you found another of those black coins. Against the same wall as the door is a stone shelf upon which a book with a massive metal lock resides.

‘What kind of diary has secrets bad enough to warrant that kind of lock?’ You think, as you pick it up. ‘Whatever it is, it’s gotta be juicy.’ You pull on the lock and it doesn’t budge. ‘Seriously? A thousand years later and you’re still keeping your secrets? How dedicated are you to your job that you haven’t rusted into nothingness already?’

“Would you mind if I took a look at that?” You turn to see Gale next to you, looking at the book. “There’s some magic involved in that book, so I’d love to take a look. Can probably knock the lock open with some magic of my own as well.”

[Knock yourself out,] you hand him the book.

One magical hand motion later and the lock clicks and the book practically bursts open, as if it wanted someone to look at a specific page. You hover next to Gale and watch as the words on the page morph themselves into letters you recognize. The words, however, even once settled, don’t make sense to you. 

“They’re names,” Gale explains, seeing your confusion. “These pages are recording gods, entire pantheons even, that have dwindled or died or have been reborn. What a fascinating tome.”

‘Huh. Neat.’

And then you’re back to exploring the main chamber. Down the steps and into the courtyard you go, where you spot another skeleton and a plaque at the base of the giant statue. The words read the same as the first one you read. The words carved into the stone scroll the statue is holding is the same as well. More stairs sit on either side of the statue, both seemingly lead to nothing. On the left side though, atop the stairs along a pillar on the wall, you spy a button.

‘Oh no. The irresistible urge is encompassing me. Oooh, that button is so tempting.’ You quickly climb the stairs and stand in front of the button, barely keeping your impulsive want to press it at bay.

“Tav!” You call out, gaining her attention. You point to the button. [Can I?] {Persuasion = 7, Failure}.

“Hold on, let me take a look,” She climbs up the stairs and stands next to you, looking at the button. “Well, I don’t see anything else,” she says, glancing around.

[OK.] You press the button.

The section of the wall to the left underneath the the arched bevelling slides away, but as it does, you begin to hear ominous gasps of breath resound from the rest of the room. You and the rest of the party, all huddled on our around the staircase, look back. The skeletons become animate, rising from their collapsed positions, their bodies coated in a green glow of necromantic magic.

“Hells, they’ve woken!” Tave yells as she and everyone else readies their weapons.

“Let them come,” Shadowheart says, a fierce determination in her voice. “The darkness can be to our advantage.”

Tav rushes forward into the courtyard and a whip of water sprouts forth from her arm, grabbing onto the skeleton in between the opposing staircases of where you stood and pulling it until it is within melee range of her. Astarion is able to quickly flank it and hit it with a devastating sneak attack with his dagger, but it isn't enough for it to go down. Your eldritch blast hasn’t been kind to you today, so you switch towards the other cantrip you have: a Vile Fire Bolt. You ready your violin and begin playing {Attack Roll = 15, Hit}. {Fire Damage = 4, Vile Damage = 3}. The skeleton collapses into a pile of bones. On the mezzanine surrounding the courtyard, another skeleton stands near the brazier, almost directly behind where the skeleton you just took down originally stood. Gale readies a Magic Missile spell, all three missiles hitting the skeleton. He ducks behind the short tree standing next to the statue.

A skeleton standing near the door where the book of dead gods was found casts Fog Cloud on the stairs where you were standing, obscuring your vision in the haze, along with Lae’zel, Wyll, and Shadowheart who had not yet left the stairs. You can’t see what’s going on, but you can hear three sets of footsteps run forwards. You hear a chant and blast when suddenly the fog dissipates. You look to the right and see Wyll up on the mezzanine, facing the downed skeletal mage. He must have shot his own eldritch blast and defeated it, dispelling the magic. Lae’zel and Shadowheart ran forwards and up the other flight of stairs, approaching the skeleton Gale had hit.

That skeleton cast Fog Cloud on Lae’zel and Shadowheart, stopping them in their tracks before retreating. Another skeleton that was between the double doors and the collapsed wall ran forward and cast another Fog Cloud, encompassing Tav, Gale, and Astarion. A third skeleton ran from the left of the collapsed wall and fired a Ray of Frost at Tav. Tav ran towards where the ice spell came from. Noticing the retreating skeleton passing by the stairs to the right, she hurls a streak of fire from her staff at the skeleton, causing it to collapse in a burst of flames, the fog around Lae’zel and Shadowheart dissipating. You take the stairs at a time as you descend into the courtyard, your bowing turning into a natural staccato at the movement. Keeping out of the fog, you aim at the frost-wielding skeleton and shoot another bolt of vile flames. {Attack Roll = 23, Hit}. {Fire damage = 3, Vile damage = 2}. Lae’zel runs to the other skeleton that cast the fog around Gale and Astarion and lands a diagonal slash against it, breaking its concentration. Now able to see, Astarion and Gale turn their attention towards the frost skeleton you hit. Astarion fires an arrow while Gale sends his own Ray of Frost at it. Both hit their mark and the skeleton goes down. Shadowheart charges forward with her new spear and thrusts into the skeleton Lae’zel is in melee with, taking it down.

The threat neutralized, your party gathers back up in the courtyard and heads towards the wall that opened up. You head in and see a room with a chest, some pots and vases, some benches, and a single sarcophagus surrounded by unlit candles.

“A lot of effort to hide one sarcophagus,” Tav comments.

As Tav loots the chest, you approach the sarcophagus and notice a plaque on the ground at its base. It morphs into a readable scrawl: “Here lies the Guardian of Tombs. Through knowledge comes atonement.”

‘...Is this the necromancer?’

Tav, finished with taking the valuables from the chest, walks past you and right up to the sarcophagus. She barely touches it before it begins to move on its own, sliding towards the back wall away from you. It moves slowly until an emaciated hand shoots up and grabs the edge, causing you to flinch back in surprise. With a swift flick of its arm, the heavy lid of its tone coffin is practically flung off.

‘Holy shit, I did not sign up for mummy brutes. That arm has no muscles in its arm, where did it get that strength?!’ You quickly back up some more. 

A mummy, dressed in tattered robes, loose bandages, and gold refinery limply raises into the air. Its bones creak as its head raises and its eyes open. Arms outstretched, he floats towards your group. Everyone backs up as it lands in front of what was supposed to be its final resting place and walks forward as soon as its feet touch the ground.

“So he has spoken, and so thou standest before me. Right as always,” the mummy speaks before pausing in front of Tav. Its voice is rough and masculine with an odd whispering echo surrounding every word. “What a curious way to awaken. Now I have a question for thee: what is the worth of a single mortal’s life?”

“‘So he has spoken’? What ‘he’ are you talking about?” Tav asks.

“An arbiter of certain matters. But that is not important now. Wilt thou answer my question?”

“Yes. Ask away.”

“So I ask again: what is the worth of a single mortal life?”

“Mortal lives are not ‘single’. They are part of a great whole- a path to enlightenment.”

“Few strive for such balance. Fewer still achieve it. Very well. I am satisfied.” He looks over at you, locking eyes.

You purse your lips and break eye contact. ‘Why is he looking at me?’

I was not expecting to meet one of you in this age. Curious indeed. We have met and I know thy face. We will see each other again at the proper time and place. Farewell.”

Your eyes widen and you look back at him. You open your mouth to ask just what he was talking about, but don’t get the chance before he speaks again.

“We have nothing more to discuss. Continue on thy way, as if I were not here. I must attend this place, after so many years away. We will see each other again soon.”

“You seem very certain of that. How?” Tav asks, glancing between the two of you.

“The mechanics of fate would be difficult to explain to one such as thyself. Regardless, it will occur.” And just like that, he walks off.

Tav looks at you. “Do you know what he meant by ‘one of you’?” 

You shrug. He could’ve meant where you’re from, your patron, or any number of things.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter too much–that skeleton was being too cryptic for my tastes: no straight answers at all. Well, since we’ve cleared out this place, let’s take a short rest. Get ready to move in half an hour.”

The group breaks, most preferring to leave the musty room you were in, all except you, that is. Though it didn’t smell the best, it was pretty comfortable in all other ways. You take a seat on one of the benches.

‘Astaroth, do you know anything about whatever that was.’

«They were probably talking about me. I think that mummy, as you referred to it as, is a chosen of Jergal. He might have been able to sense I am your patron, and seeing as I perished many millennia ago, most would not expect my presence anywhere.»

‘Isn’t that, y’know, kind of bad that he knows about you?’

«As he has remained silent about my identity, I don’t believe we have anything to worry about.»

‘That’s a relief.’

«Yes, it is.»

True to her word, half an hour later, Tav rounds everyone up and leads you through the entryway into the cave made by the collapsed wall. There must have been a door there at some point, seeing as around a column of stone was a lever that lowered a ladder. You all climb up the ladder and through a trapdoor, leading to the outside cliff of the crypt.

Once everyone is out, Tav starts forward again. “Well, we’ve cleared out the crypt of any threats, but no Karlach was to be found. For now, let’s head back to the grove and go west. We can decide if we go further west or north as we get closer to the points on the map.”

Nobody could complain, so forwards you all went.

“So,” Astarion starts, “You know about these parasites. Will we survive them?” He asks Lae’zel.

“Only if my people extract them,” she replies. “The only other cure is the blade.”

“Okay. Wonderful.”

‘...I almost forgot I had one of those things in my head and now I can’t stop thinking about it and I swear I can feel it squirm, blegh. I’m gonna be sick if I think about it any longer. Quick, think of something stupid-we’re great at that. Um… we know it takes a lot of slaps to cook a chicken, however, with my new vile burning hands spell, would it only take one slap? Or would it take more?’

You all reach the entrance to the grove in fifteen minutes' time. Tav gives a nod to the lookouts as you pass by. They nod back in acknowledgement while your party continues west. Not a minute's walk later does Wyll stop you in your tracks and points out footprints heading seemingly into the cliff.

“Tracks like these puncture the soil across the Sword Coast: Goblins, of course.”

‘Into the cliff? What, do we have ghost goblins now?’ You step forward and examine the vine-covered cliff face. {Investigation = 21, Success}. It’s another of those sliding stone doorways you saw in the grove. You easily locate the activation mechanism in the form of a hidden button along the frame and press it, lowering the door. [Voila,]

You peer into the doorway to see an earthy tunnel, a mix of natural and manmade. There’s some other natural light pouring in from the ceiling deeper in, but you can’t make out too much besides that and two other ominous sources of light: a pinprick of glowing red and a faint glow of blue light. [So. Are we going in]?

“There are at least four sets of goblin prints,” Wyll states, examining the cave as he walks up next to you. “Seeing how close it is to the grove, there’s a good chance these goblins know where it is. I don’t see any prints exiting at least. That means we can still intercept them and make sure the grove’s location isn’t leaked to their camp.”

“As long as that means we get to go kill something, a little chase wouldn’t hurt too much,” Astarion smirks.

“Chk,” Lae’zel scowls. “Goblins are hardly worth fighting.”

“Let’s go,” Tav decides. “If we wipe them out now, we can avoid a possible pincer attack later if they end up taking the same path as us after they leave.”

You and Tav front the group, slowly sneaking in as the others follow suit. The tunnel slightly curves to the right, and a few meters into it, you can already see the cavern it widens out into. Your eyes adjust to the dim light fairly quickly, thankfully. Once they do, you can see a large, ivory statue of a bird of prey, an eagle or hawk, or something of the like. They eyes of which you notice are the source of the red light you could just barely make out from the entrance. You’re also able to notice something else: voices.

“Glowing eyes are rarely a good sign,” Tav whispers, pointing towards the statue and drawing everyone’s attention to it. “It’s probably a trap; best be careful- Astarion, do you think you might be able to disarm it?”

“Well, glowing-eyed statues aren’t exactly my forte, especially when we have company,” he flicks his head in the direction the voices are coming from.

You sneak a few steps forward to get a wider view of the area, ‘there’s usually some clues of how to solve these puzzles in places like this.’ A few meters in front of the statue lies a natural stone column with an unnatural white stone panel, matching the bird statue in make and tone, with a glowing blue symbol, the source of the blue glow you saw. You nudge Tav and point to the panel. 

[That looks like a button, doesn’t it? If we push it, it could disarm whatever trap that statue is.] {Persuasion = 8, Success}

“It’s worth a shot,” she says. “We can’t throw something at it or shoot it if we don’t want to draw the attention of those voices’ owners, goblins, presumably. We need somebody who is quick and quiet to press it and abscond.”

Everyone looks at Astarion.

“I suppose I am quite talented in those aspects. Very well, if you insist, but if you’re wrong about this,” he briefly narrows his eyes at you.

In a split second, he’s gone, already three meters ahead in a silent dash. He runs with noiseless steps, body low to the ground. In three seconds he had crossed over to the pillar and placed his hand on the panel, pushing it in. As he does, both the blue light of the panel and the red light of the statue's eyes are snuffed out. As quickly as he crossed that distance the first time he did again on his way back: a round trip in six seconds flat.

“Hmph, easy.” He gloats. “Also, I took a small glance around. There is a goblin right around the corner, but I didn’t see where the other ones were.”

“Looks like we’re in for a fight. No time like the present. Let’s go,” Tav leads you around the bend until the goblin comes into view. Tav flicks her hand forward. [Go.]

Astarion makes the first move, darting up to the goblin and stabbing it from behind. It lets out a guttural shriek that dies out quickly as it dies itself. The other goblins, who you can now see on the floor level with the bottom of the cliff, notice the sudden attackers and reach for their weapons. They don’t have time to do much when Tav, who was right behind Astarion, uses Rush of the Gale Spirits, forcing two of the three goblins back a few meters and knocking them off balance. She scales down the cliff using the stone shelves, some of which are too flat to have occurred naturally. Astarion is quick to follow behind her.

Your violin is resummoned and readied. You approach the Edge of the cliff and find your target: a goblin archer further right than the other two. You start your new song with a Vile Fire Bolt. {Attack Roll = 11, Miss}. The goblin ducks, the attack whizzing over its head. 

“Glacies,” Gale, having come up to the cliff edge, stands left of you, casts Ray of Frost, hitting the goblin furthest away. Glancing that way, you also notice a man lying on the floor, unconscious, surrounded by the goblins.

Wyll, now also at the edge but further to the right, aims at the same goblin who dodged your attack. “Maledicus… Dolo,” he casts both Hex and Eldritch Blast. The spells hit their mark and cause the goblin to stumble, but it stays standing.

“Incende!” Shadowheart steps up between you and Wyll and casts Sacred Flame. The goblin nimbly steps back, dodging the sudden burst of white flame.

Lae’zel leaps down the stair-like stone shelves and fires an arrow at the nearest goblin- an archer. The arrow pierces its leg and it shouts in pain. Tav moves up to hit that same Goblin as Lae’zel but misses. Astarion fires an arrow at the goblin archer, who is distracted by Tav enough that it doesn’t see the arrow coming. The arrow sinks into its neck and the goblin falls. With one archer down and another to go, he moves to the hexed goblin and tries to stab with his offhand, but misses. He goes in with another swing and hits, but doesn’t kill. 

The goblin archer jumps back from Astarion and shoots an acid arrow at Wyll once it gains some distance from Astarion. The arrow misses and strikes the cliff face right in front of him, however the acid vial attached to it bursts, splashing onto Shadowheart next to him. She grunts in pain and steps back, flicking off as much of the acid as possible onto the floor.

Your gaze is still honed in on the hexed goblin. The sixth second comes around, a full round of combat having passed, and another Vile Fire Bolt is shot. {Attack Roll= Natural 20, Critical Hit}, {Damage = 4 Vile, 4 Fire}. It screams as it perishes in black and red flames.

Another Ray of Frost, Hex, and Eldritch Blast come from Gale and Wyll, aimed at the last remaining goblin, who is unable to withstand the barrage of spells and succumbs to the cold embrace of death.

The fight is over, and everyone sheathes their weapons, your violin absorbed back into its pocket dimension. The party goes to rejoin Tav, who is checking on the unconscious man on the lower level. You however, see a couple of crates to your right next to a standing torch that look like the perfect place to take a break. Your stamina is not like the others’, and that short rest in the crypt was nowhere near long enough to soothe your aching legs. You can’t resist the temptation and take a seat. {Contested Roll: Perception = 18 vs. Habit = 17, Success}. Your hand reaches for your pocket out of habit, but you notice before you pull your phone out and move your hand away. ‘I gotta break that habit.’ 

You close your eyes and stretch in an attempt to soothe your sore body somewhat. You crack your spine with a satisfying pop and relax your muscles. You open your eyes and see Astarion, walking right in front of you. You almost jumped; you didn’t hear him at all. He passes by you, walking into the dark alcove to your left.

Curious, you follow him up the roughly hewn stone steps, clearly man-made compared to the rest of the cavern. It was unexpectedly dark, and you could barely make out Astarion kneeling down in front of some large mass, the details of which you couldn’t make out. You take a step forward to get a better look at what he’s doing.

He whips around and you briefly see a glint of metal in his hand, his entire body tense, as if preparing to lunge at a moment’s notice. “Oh, it’s just you,” he says, his hand moving back, pushing what you now realize is a dagger back into its sheath. 

[Whatcha doin?] You ask, trying to ignore how close you came to getting stabbed. {Performance = 20, Success}.

“Taking my reward, obviously,” he gestures towards the dark mass behind him.

‘Reward?’ You lean forward and squint, and you can just make out the true form of that mass: a chest. ‘Ooooh, fun.’ [So, what are we looking at here]? {Performance = Natural 20, Critical Success}.

“A very considerate setup of traps and locks I’ll have to get through,” he replies, pulling out the respective toolkits to undo each. 

[Won’t it be hard with how dark it is? Here let me–] You almost reach for your pocket again- ‘not grab my phone,’ [let me get you some light.] {Performance = 12, failure}. Astarion doesn’t acknowledge you as you turn back and leave the alcove. You take out your torch and head over to the standing torch that was near the boxes you sat on earlier. You light yours with the flame and head back over to Astarion, who had already begun fiddling with the trapped chest without you.

He doesn’t glance over at you, despite the sudden increase in light, too focused on the chest. You watch him work, his hands turning his tools slowly and precisely, his hands steady, never shaking. 

‘...He’s got some pretty hands.’

One minute and two clicks later, the chest is disarmed and unlocked. He pops open the lid and you step forward to take a look, your torch illuminating the insides. There’s a twisted staff and a small pile of gold coins.

“Better than nothing,” he says as he pockets the gold. He grabs and takes a look at the staff and frowns.

[Tav could probably use it]. {Performance = 3, failure}.

“It was locked in a trapped chest, so it’s probably at least somewhat valuable. Maybe we could sell it to the druids. It looks nature-y enough for them to be interested. Here, hold onto it,” he passes it to you. “You don’t have to carry around your instrument anywhere because of your magic, so you should be fine carrying it around.”

[I mean, I guess I could use it as a walking stick.] {Performance = 15, success}. You grab it and tap the base against the ground a couple times, just because it felt right. ‘I kinda feel like Gandalf. Fuck yeah.’

“Yes, well, have fun with that.”

As you both step back out into the main area of the cave, you see the others reach the top of the cliff, climbing up to the same level you are on.

“There you both are,” Tav comments upon seeing you. “There are two more doors leading into the grove, and we’ve confirmed there are no other goblins about. The man was just fine and returned to the grove. What do you have there?” She looks at your Gandalf stick.

[A big stick. Wanna take a look]? You hold it out to her.

She grabs it and tilts it back and forth as she examines it, her eyes briefly glowing. “Interesting. Looks like it’s been enchanted to entangle creatures it hits. I prefer the staff I’m using now, so we should probably sell this one when we get the chance.” She hands it back to you. “Find anything else?”

“No, only that,” Astarion answered before you could.

‘Oh, he’s pocketing the gold. I mean, that is classic rogue behavior.’ You go along with it and nod. {Deception (with advantage) = 16, success}.

With nobody having anything else to add, you all make your way back towards the entrance and continue westwards towards your original destination. You squint once you leave the cave, having to readjust to the outside sunlight. You quickly glance at the sky, noting the sun’s position. It’s definitely late-afternoon by now. You quickly come across a fork in the road: the main path continues west, but a smaller path breaks off to the north.

Tav’s attention snaps towards the northern path. “People up ahead. Something’s wrong.” 

You focus for a second and hear the voices Tav must have noticed. And on the northbound path you go. You soon see the source of the voices: Two humans hovering over an injured dwarf lying on the ground.

“You’re a True Soul,” the woman says to the dwarf. “You can’t die. Please stay with us.”

“I don’t think he’s conscious,” the man says. “Can you hear us, Ed?”

Tav boldly approached, the human woman’s attention shifting from the dwarf to Tav, and then towards your group as a whole. “You!” She holds out her hand in a warding motion. “Not a step closer.” She glares at your group when suddenly you see a glowing red mark over her right eye suddenly appear. The glow soon fades and the mark disappears from view just as quickly.

‘...Um… okay?’

Tav glances down at the fatally injured dwarf, then looks back at the woman, her eyebrows raising in a worried manner. “His wounds look deep. I might be able to help.”

“He’s hurt badly. An owlbear got him deep. If there’s anything you can do…” The human man pleads.

“I’m watching you,” the woman allows Tav to approach, but her eyes never relax from their glare.

Tav kneels down next to the dwarf and locks eyes with him. They’re silent for a few seconds before the dwarf speaks.

“She is a True Soul. Mind her. She will- she- she…” His words lose their strength as he runs out of breath and fully goes limp. He’s dead.

“Edowin,” The human man collapses to his knees. “Ed! Please!”

“He’s with the Absolute now,” the woman’s gaze turns sorrowful, no longer focused on Tav or your party. “You’re…” Her gaze remains soft as it goes back to Tav. “You’re a True Soul. Edowin, our brother- he was chosen. Like you. Do you have orders for us? We were reporting to Edowin.”

Tav raises from her kneeling position and looks her straight in the eye, “Why are you out here? The wilderness is dangerous.”

“We know that all too well, ma’am, but… the Absolute sent us here.”

“We’re looking for fugitives,” the man explains. “Survivors from that ship that crashed farther west of here.”

‘West? Does that mean there was a second ship? Or maybe half of the ship crashed in the west, and the second half was where we crashed.’

“These fugitives- tell me more,” Tav commanded.

“We don’t know what they look like, but anyone who survived that crash is bound to be injured. That’s enough to get us started. The Absolute wants them found at any cost.”

“True Soul?”

“What…? Are you… are you testing us?” The man asks, taken aback. Tav remains stoic, giving no indication of her intentions.

“A True Soul-” The woman begins- “like you- has been chosen by the Absolute. You speak with Her voice. Your words are Her command. She grants you the power to enforce Her will. And when the time comes, the True Souls- you- will rule.”

“Oh, I like these two,” Astarion whispers next to you. “All zeal and no brains.”

[These two reek of cult.] {Performance = 19, Success}.

“Yes, but is it really a problem when we’re on the receiving end of their devotion?”

[Well, I’ve got anxiety, so… yeah, it’s not for me. You do you, though.] {Performance = 7, Failure}.

He frowns at you and crosses his arms. “It’s not like you’re a paladin who swore an oath to get rid of all cults or something, so don’t  ruin it for me. I’m intent on milking this for all its worth.”

‘Not what I meant, but sure, go off, I guess.’

“A crude summary,” Tav lightly berates the woman. “You have more to learn of our faith, novice.”

“I’m sorry, True Soul,” she immediately concedes. “I… only repeated what I thought I knew. It seems the Absolute still has a great deal to teach me.”

“Perhaps you can be of help to make up for it- I’m looking for the druid Halsin.”

“I apologize, but I don’t know any druids.”

“Very well. Now for your orders: Return for now. Forget the owlbear. You’re still alive- so go.”

“And just… leave Ed?” The man looks torn between following Tav’s orders and avenging the dwarf. “I suppose… I suppose he’d want us to go on- find a way to honor his sacrifice.”

“May the Absolute guide us,” the woman says in place of a farewell before the two of them travel down the northbound path.

As soon as they’re out of earshot, Tav speaks, “They spoke of the Absolute- same as that goblin, Sazza. Curious.”

“Seems as though the Absolute’s attracting followers from all kinds of places,” Lae’zel comments.

Tav approaches the corpse and flinches. Her head and arms jerk awkwardly, as if she was fighting against her body’s movement. When her left arm raises, the body does too. You take a step back in surprise.

‘Holy shit, she’s got telekinesis!’

Her hand snaps shut into a fist as the dead dwarf’s neck snaps in a clean break and a tadpole crawls out of his eye. You grimace in disgust. The tadpole floats over to Tav and lands in her hand. As soon as it makes contact, Tav’s body relaxes and the corpse drops to the ground. She stares at it as she evens out her labored breathing, then stashes the tadpole away.

“Umm…” [Why are you holding onto that instead of, oh, you know, killing it]? {Performance = 4, Failure}.

“Don’t worry, it’s in safe hands,” she reassures, mistaking your question for a statement of worry.

[No, that’s not what I-] a frustrated sigh escapes your mouth. [Nevermind].

“Well, thankfully those two weren’t being very careful and left clear tracks. If we’re lucky, we can follow them back to their base,” Tav turns towards the way the pair went and waves for everyone to follow. “Come on. We should cover as much ground as possible.”

The trail slopes downward and twists to the left, leading  towards a river. You notice a coffin sitting in the middle of the river, propped up against some rocks.

‘Why is there a coffin here?’

The river here is shallow and Tav leads you all across. You glance at the coffin as you pass it and are relieved to see it empty save for a wooden spoon, for some reason. A massive cave entrance looms on the other side of the river, an animal-made path leading to its maw.

“Owlbear tracks,” Tav informs the group. “Best not go inside- its nest is probably there.”

Instead, a natural ramp of dirt and stone shelves to the left leads upwards, out of the river bed. The footprints lead that way too. The first stone step is taller than half your body, and you grunt as you pull yourself up, your muscles complaining at the strain. The path evens out once the ground is level with the area on the other side of the river where you met the three cultists. The tracks head left, but a dog’s bark sounds out from the right, diverting your attention.

‘Is that a pupper I hear?’ Nobody can stop you from going to meet that dog. “Tav,” you get her attention. [Dog! That way! We gotta go!] {Persuasion = 20, Success}.

“A short detour wouldn’t hurt, I suppose,” she acquiesced to your request. “Lead the way, then.”

You take off in the direction of the barking. It’s not long before you smell iron-blood. ‘Oh no, please be okay mystery dog!' You follow the footpath around a decently sized tree and some small boulders to see two things: a white dog and a very blood corpse. As you approach, the dog growls at you, standing in front of the corpse protectively. You stop and kneel down before the dog.

“Hey there, pupper. It’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

The dog doesn’t relax at your words. It only barks and growls some more. Tav, now beside you, leans to the side and squints.

“It’s alright, Scratch. we’re not going to hurt you,” she says. At the mention of its name, the dog, Scratch, relaxes and begins wagging his tail and whines. He looks over to the corpse and barks a couple times.

You can’t resist the urge and reach out to pet him. He lets you for a bit, but ducks out of it to whimper next to the corpse. He doesn’t want to leave the dead man’s side. You reach out your hand in an offer for if he wants more pets. He sniffs at you, but doesn’t do more. 

“When you’re ready, you can follow our scent back to camp,” Tav tells Scratch. Whether the dog understood or not, only time will tell.

“Is that smoke?” As you were about to go back to the trail, Shadowheart turned your attention to the north.

Small pillars of smoke could be seen in the near sky, as if a bunch of small campfires had been lit close together.

“Where there’s smoke, there’s fire, and where there’s fire, there’s Karlach,” Wyll spits out the devil’s name. “We have to go stop her before she wreaks havoc!”

He doesn’t let anyone get a word in before he’s dashing to the north. Everyone is quick to catch up to him, except you. You’re stuck in the rear, body tired and muscles complaining. You’re quick to come across a river, but Wyll is quick to jump from stone to submerged stone to make it across. Everyone was quick to jump across, leaving only you on the other side. You lifted your walking stick so that it wouldn’t touch the water and made your way to the edge of the boulder, even as it began to submerge, leaving you in ankle deep water. The gap looked to be about a meter. ‘I’m sure I can at least jump that far, right?’ You take a few steps back to get a running start. You charge and leap. {Athletics = 9, Failure}. Your foot lands on the opposing submerged boulder on the other side. You’ve made it! That is, until your foot slips and you fall backwards, into the water. A hand is quick to enclose around your forearm and yanks you back up, but not before your entire backside hits the water, leaving you dripping and cold.

“Do not slow us down, istik,” Lae’zel reprimands you as she lets go of your arm, having been the one to catch you.

[Sorry.] {Performance = 13, Success}.

“There’s a blood trail along the river bank,’ Wyll, having climbed out of the river, points out , now able to see the surrounding landscape.

You climb up more rocks to get on the same level as him, though he’s already started moving, leading the party to where the trail of blood goes. The river bank trail is soon headed off by a cliff, but the trail instead continues across the river via a fallen log for a bridge. That’s when you see her. The stunning woman whose visage your tadpole downloaded from Wyll’s brain straight into yours.

‘She’s here in person. She won’t disappear like smoke in the wind this time. I can stare all I want!’ She’s beautiful and looks strong enough to break you in half with her thighs alone. You’re enthralled. And then you remember your deal with your patron. ‘Nooooooo, I completely forgot! Aww, man. Well, a deal’s a deal.” You balance your stick against your shoulder and get ready to summon your instrument to cast Illusory Script.

«You’re lucky.» Astaroth’s voice halts your movements. «She’s a tiefling, not a devil. You don’t have to use your pick up line on her.»

‘Oh thank fuck!’ You practically sag in relief, grabbing back onto your staff with both hands.

You watch as Wyll and Tav cross the log and approach the tiefling woman, who does seem to be the source of the smoke. Afterall, she’s completely engulfed in flames, now crouching down and hunched over, head clutched in her hands, her back facing you. She looks like she’s in extreme pain.

“One horn. The stink of Avernus. Advocatus diaboli,” Wyll says as he stands over her curled form.

“Well I’ll be godsdamned,” she looks over her shoulder at him. “The Blade of Frontiers. Thought I’d shaken you for good. That’ll teach me to underestimate you.” The flames coming from her sputter out, leaving only small bits leaking out of her skin and licking her fingertips as she stands up to look Wyll in the eye.

‘...Tieflings don’t normally secrete fire from their pores, right?’

«No, they normally do not.»

‘Well, I guess that makes her even more hot, don’t you think?’

«…You know what. Just for that awful pun, I think you should still use that spell for her. Don’t worry, you don’t need to say that vile line, but with how much you’ve been, how do you say it? Simping? For her? How about you just flirt with her anyways.»

‘What? I can’t do that! I’ve never flirted with anyone before!’

«…Pft…Heh… Haha… hahhaha!» Astaroth tries to stifle his laughter, but he fails in the end.

‘Hey! Shut up! My anxiety isn’t my fault!’

«Sorry-ha - sorry, you’re just very fun to tease and I haven’t had a chance to banter like this in a long time.»

‘You’re lucky I like you,’ you’re quiet for a moment, then sigh. ‘But, I suppose there is something I can say to her. Not gonna use a spell though. It’ll be embarrassing if she understands me.’

“You’re the devil we’ve been hunting: Karlach, right?” Tav joins the tense conversation between hunter and not-actually-a-devil quarry.

“Bloody right,” Karlach confirms. “An honor to be chased by the Blade of Frontiers, but- agh!” She’s cut off by the pain of the tadpole acting up, her memories being shared with you.

It’s an intense, fiery heat, mirrored in the images of the hells flowing into you. You see armies of demons, a landscape of fire and blood, her read hands holding a great axe, tearing through body after body of the foes coming towards her.

«The Blood War.» Astaroth explains, his voice leaving a residual emptiness, the tone of someone who has been emotionally and mentally exhausted to the point of numbness. «A war between demons and devils that has been ongoing for eons.»

Karlach shakes her head as she’s freed from the tadpole’s sudden activness, “What was that?”

“Evidence. Proof that you’re a devil, a gladiator in the archdevil Zariel’s army,” Wyll pulls out his rapier and points it at her before falling into a battle-ready stance.

“I can explain, but it’s a whole situation. If you would just hear me out-” Karlach is cut off by her tadpole connecting with everyone else’s again.

You see her slicing through devils this time, not demons. She’s frantic, looking for a way out. She’s just a victim.

“She’s trying to trick us,” Wyll says. “Don’t believe her lies.”

“You saw the truth. I never wanted to serve Zariel. I was enlisted in her army against my will. Forced to fight, and fight I did.” Karlach’s eyes turn sad and pleading. “When I saw an opportunity to get away, I took it. I’m finally home- or near it, anyway.”

“You served her,” Wyll remains adamant on his position. “That’s enough to damn you.”

‘Woah, hey, let’s slow down a bit. This is sounding a whole lot like victim blaming and we’re not into that.’

“Stand down, Wyll,” Tav places a hand on his arm, enticing him to lower his sword. “You saw what I saw.”

He turns to Tav, not relaxing just yet. “You don’t know what your saying! You’re asking me to trust a devil!”

“Gods, you’re stubborn. Karlach’s not a devil, and you know it.”

“Listen to some sense, now,” Karlach adds. “I don’t want this to end badly for either of us. You know monsters, right? Better than anyone. Look into my eyes. Can’t you see I’m not what you think?”

“Shit,” He curses as he puts his blade away. “You really are no devil, are you? I’ve… I’ve been deceived.”

Karlach sighs out a breath of relief, “Thank the gods. Thought I was going to have to take your head.”

“You would have died in the attempt. But- there have been enough threats today.”

“Truce then, hey?”

“Aye. Truce.”

Karlach addresses the rest of your party, now that the tension has diffused. “I’m Karlach- but you already knew that. And you are…?”

Everyone states their names one at a time. You do as well, but add a little more.

“Mama warned me about women like you… I was hoping she was right”

Karlach looks at you confused, “Sorry soldier, but I won’t be able to remember all that.”

They’re (Y/N),” Tav explains. “They can’t speak common though, so I hope you're good at charades.”

“You can’t speak common? Not everyday you meet someone like that. Either way, well me. Nice to meet some friendlies around here. It’s been tough going so far. I may not be a devil, but I can put the Blade’s reputation to work. How would you feel about helping me kill some evil bastards? A little background, if your moral compass needs something to point at: You already know I fought in the Blood War. I was good. Really good. Turns out I’ve got a knack for killing demons. That made me a valuable asset. Zariel- the archdevil herself- made me as her personal attack dog. I played along until I could get the fuck out of there, but devils don’t like to lose their assets. Zariel liked it so little, she sent a bunch of goons, so-called ‘Paladins of Tyr,’ to take me back. Problem is, I’m not going.”

“Let’s send them back where they came from,” Tav accepts Karlach’s proposal.

“Fuck yes. They cornered me outside the tollhouse just up the hill. Doubt they’ve gone far after the scorching I gave ‘em. Then we can work on evicting this parasite and take Faerûn by the short hairs. Sound good?”

“She’s almost as scary as you, Lae’zel,” Astarion comments with a smirk. “So naturally she gets my vote.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Tav agrees.

“I’d hug you if it wouldn’t scorch your skin off,” Karlach grins brightly. “Phew, I’m getting all het up. Let’s make tracks!”

Do you guys like the battle descriptions, or would you prefer I only do them during significant fights, like boss battles/fights with significant story consequences? Take the poll here: Click me!

We’re doing contested rolls to see if our protag is aware of their habitual action of taking out their phone when they're bored. It’s a perception roll vs. a straight roll. Whenever I, as the author, stop writing and habitually reach for my phone for no good reason, I’m going to roll some dice. Be prepared, our protagonist could be found out at any time.

[hard-boiled-criminal]

Social Anxiety Really Ruins the Isekai Experience

Previously known as: Brimstone from the Throat

Chapter 3 - Next Stop: Miscommunication Station

< Ch 2 | Ch 4 >

>Ch 1<

Masterlist

Ao3 Mirror

Bold is your native tongue.

[words in brackets are sign language/what you’re trying to get across with vague gestures.] This is mostly for my sanity so I don’t have to keep describing hand gestures. How your hands move is up to your interpretation when not described.

Also, have any of you heard of Tsukimichi? It’s a series I absolutely adore and is the inspiration behind the language barrier in this fic.

“Once inside, do as I say,” Lae’zel’s tone left no room for argument, but that didn’t stop Shadowheart from biting back.

“Who put you in charge? I’ll trust my own judgement.” 

“Kainyank.” Lae’zel scowled, the word not translating in your head.

You take a step back, not wanting to be pulled into a potential argument, shifting your violin to be held under your arm.

Tav sighs, “All right, but first I think we should plan at least a little bit. We’re probably going to have to fight, so we should be ready for that.” Nobody argued with her. “Lae’zel and I will be the vanguard while Shadowheart and (y/n) bring up the rear.” Tav briefly turned to you, “I’m assuming you’re a bard, correct?”

‘I wouldn’t really call myself a bard per se, but sure? I guess?’ You just shrug at her and sign [sort of] with your free hand to get your point across. 

      “…I’ll take that as a yes. Let’s get moving.”

Lae’zel and Tav confidently stride through the sphincter door, the latter pulling a staff off her back– looks like she’s getting serious– while you and shadowheart follow close behind. You feel very out of place with nothing but the clothes on your back and a violin to your name while the rest have actual weapons brandished. A fight had already begun on the bridge, a mini-Cthulhu fighting a devil of some sort: horns, leathery wings and all. Another one of those mini-‘thulhus is attacked by a swarm of imps, dying at their hands– you had to look away; the sight brought images to your mind of some gruesome deaths you remember from horror stories. When your eyes focus on the living devil once more, you are filled with an unnatural and deep hatred, the overwhelming emotion cold, but it is so deeply ingrained into that it must be your own, right?  Your breath hitches. The anger feels like your own, but you know this isn’t you– something’s wrong– something’s manipulating your emotions, treating you like a toy, ripping your control away from you– a low rumbling cuts off your thoughts. You look around, hearing it seemingly coming from all sides, but your companions don’t seem to pay it any mind, nor do any of the enemies. Just as quickly as they came, the hatred and rumbling left.

« I apologize for frightening you, young one. I let my emotions get the better of me and let them affect you as well. »

‘It’s– I’m okay… yeah, I’m okay.’ You let out a shaky breath. More than anything else that has happened today, that is what frightened you the most. You almost feel ashamed, everything else happening right now is more important than your stupid phobia.

« … »

Astaroth says nothing, but you feel his worry. You can feel that it’s his. It’s not yours. Your emotions are your own again– you are yourself again. The pace of your heart begins to steady itself– still frantic, but not as frightened as before.

The ‘thulhu fighting the devil turned and looked at your group. (“Thralls. Connect the nerves of the transponder. We must escape. Now.”) An odd voice echoed in your head. 

Unlike Astaroth’s, this one you could physically feel in your head: an uncomfortable and unnatural throbbing sensation, heavy pressure pushing out of you from inside your head. The Cthulhu-like being, most likely the voice’s owner, gestures towards what you assume to be the helm, except this too is covered in squirming tentacles.

“Do it. We will deal with the ghaik after we escape,” Lae’zel commands the rest of your party, looking frustrated from agreeing with the mini Cthulhu.

« I am with you, so worry not. I will guide you and protect you through this. »

You smile slightly and awkwardly, but quickly turn your focus towards the battle at hand. It’s nice having a supernatural benefactor. In the immediate vicinity are a few imps and a strange creature with the body of a pig and a head the shape of a bird skull. Tav rushes towards the bird-boar while Lae’zel goes for an imp. Tav strikes her quarry twice, darting around behind it as Shadowheart flanks it and delivers a blow to its head with her mace.

While the hostile creatures are occupied, you flee down the center stairs, violin tucked under your arm, one hand gripping its neck and the other holding your bow. You swallow the urge to scream as you run, your jaw clenched tight and lips pursed to prevent any sound from escaping. Whether the scream you wanted to let out was in terror or a battle cry of sorts, no one would know except yourself… But it was definitely one from terror.

« Duck! »

Either by instinct or years of conditioning, you drop to the ground as if you heard a gunshot. You fell to your knees and hunched over, protectively cradling your violin against your chest. Not a second later a bolt flies over your head, missing you entirely. Looking at where it came from, you see an imp pointing its crossbow at you, beginning to reload only to be stopped by a high kick from Tav.

“We’ll take care of the enemies!” Tav calls out to you over her shoulder. “Get to that transponder!”

You nod, lips pulled tight to your teeth as you try not to freak out. You scramble forwards again, almost tripping as you pick yourself up. Crossing the sunken platform you sprint up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

« Move left! Dodge! »

You sidestep to your left, narrowly avoiding the swing of a hatchet from an imp you hadn’t noticed come up from behind. A small fireball slams into the imp, killing it instantly. You see Shadowheart behind you with her arm raised up. You nod to her in thanks, wide-eyed, and she nods back.

‘Holy shit. She can shoot fire from her hands.’

You want to question everything you know, having been met with a demon lord, Cthulhu-spawn, aliens, and now actual honest-to-god magic all in the span of one day, but there will be time for that later.

Facing forward again you clamber up the rest of the stairs. You reach the top of the stairs and pause, your eyes sparkling in awe at what’s in front of you. A giant red dragon soars past the windshield, majestic and uniquely graceful in its flight.

“Tsk’va!” Lae’zel curses, you assume, yet another one of her words not translating. “Hurry! Before they strike!”

You blink and gently shake your head, pulling yourself together. You can fawn over dragons later. You bob and weave with Astaroth’s guidance, dodging attacks from enemies who are quickly felled by your allies. It doesn’t take long to arrive at the transponder with the help from him and your allies. You grimace in disgust at the living machinery, its writhing mass of tentacles closely resembling the one that kidnapped you.

‘So, uh, how do I use this repulsive thing?’

« Place together the ends of a tentacle from the top and one from the bottom. »

‘So make a tenta-mite and a tenta-tite hold hands, got it.’ You place your violin down and reach out with both hands, hesitantly grabbing a grimy tentacle in each. You shiver at their strange texture as you place their ends together and watch as they stick to each other like Velcro.

« Get back! Quickly! »

You don’t get a chance to act on his command as a dragon practically crashes through what you thought was a windshield but was apparently just an empty hole–maybe magic was keeping the wind out?--, the impact shaking the ship enough to knock you off your feet. You can do nothing but watch as it opens its maw, a blast of fire leaving its mouth, coming straight at you. You bring your arms up, covering your face, expecting the searing pain of your skin being burnt away. 

But it didn’t.

You slowly open your eyes and peek over your arms, seeing the fire collide with a misty blue shield that had formed around you. The shield only vanished after the flames dissipated and the dragon leapt off of the ship.

« Young one, pluck the connection you made. We must get you out of the hells. »

Your exhausted and overwhelmed mind has given up on processing the situation. You pull yourself up by the base of the transponder and reach out, plucking the connection like you would your violin. You see the space in front of the ship rip open, revealing a wormhole of sorts that you soar into. Exiting on the other side reveals a starry night sky which you might have appreciated had the ship not started to free fall, your body leaving the ground. You’ve seen this simulated zero gravity before in videos where people were having fun, but that was in a safe and controlled environment. This was decidedly not a safe and controlled environment. You can do nothing but curl into a ball and lace your fingers together behind your head to cup your neck, hopefully protecting it. You don’t float for long as you are quickly jettisoned out the empty windows, the sheer pressure exerted on you combined with the mental fatigue you’ve suffered is enough to render you unconscious for the second time that day.

You wake to the sun in your eyes. Groaning, you roll over to bury your face in your pillow, not ready to wake up. Instead of the soft fabric of the pillow case, you’re met with dirt, rocks, and grass pressed against your skin. You lift yourself up in a dazed panic. Where are you?

« Good morning, young one. How are you feeling? »

You sit up, startled by the unexpected voice. Then the events of yesterday come rushing back to you after hearing Astaroth’s voice. “A bit sore, but other than that, fine I guess. Oh, but what happened? Last I remember I was defenestrated against my will.” ‘Never thought I’d actually get a chance to use that word.’

« Luckily, I was able to protect you, though there is something else you must know. »

You tilt your head. “Hmm?”

« As you were falling, I felt another presence reach out to you. One not unlike the mind flayers who abducted you. » He sounded apprehensive, some of his emotions mixing into your own. « I was able to ward it off, but I am unsure of what their intention was. We should be careful going forward. »

‘Did you say…mindflayer?’

« Yes, I believe you referred to them as ‘Cthulhus’. »

“Oh.. oh my god.” Now sitting cross-legged, you rest your forehead against the palms your hands. You take a deep breath. ‘Astaroth, you said this was a different world, right? Which one is it; where exactly am I?’

« Currently you are in the continent of Faerûn on the planet Toril. »

‘…We’re in the forgotten realms, aren’t we?’

« Well, yes, » He sounded surprised. « I was not aware you knew of it. »

‘It was the setting of a game I played back home called Dungeons & Dragons. Who’d’ve thought that knowledge would actually come in handy?’ You sigh. ‘Gods, I can’t believe I didn’t recognize a mindflayer right in front of me.’

« I would not have expected you to. They are quite the rarity in your realm. »

‘I’m going to need some time to really process all of this later.’ You sigh again, this one more despairing than the last. “Fuck… how am I supposed to survive here? Isn’t this realm, like, super dangerous?”

« I suppose, if you’re feeling up to it, we could speak of what I originally reached out to you for. »

‘No time like the present I guess, so please, do distract me from thoughts of my impending doom.’

« To speak plainly, I am trapped. » His demeanor became quite solemn. « A very long time ago I made a deal where if I were to ever perish, I would resurrect in the Wells of Darkness, the seventy-third layer of the Abyss. However, the same being who killed me ignited a permanent hellfire in my assigned pit. I have since been stuck in this well, forever burning and regenerating in an endless cycle, stuck between life and death. » He paused, a heavy silence lingering in your mind. « Try as I might, I am unable to escape. I am simply not powerful enough to extinguish the magic of a now god. And so, that brings us to you. The deal I offer is simple: I will grant you my powers in return for your aid in freeing me. That is all there is to it, no strings attached. I know suffering intimately, and would not wish it upon a warlock of mine. I’ve found that loyalty earned through trust is sturdier than if earned through fear or unwilling necessity. »

‘Okay, but, why me?’

« You are open-minded and have magical potential within you, which is what drew me towards you, but most importantly is that the laws of this realm do not constrain you. With you as my warlock, I may yet escape from this prison. » His tone softened, almost pleading, « So I ask you, (y/n), will you accept this deal and become my warlock? »

‘If I do accept, what happens if I fail? If I can’t free you?’

« Nothing, » he answered honestly. « I only ask that you aid me however you feel you are able to. Any headway we make is valuable, even if we cannot free me in the end. My time here has taught me patience, if nothing else. »

‘And you won’t force me to do something I don’t want?’

« I will not. If you wish, I can add that to our contract. »

‘Yes, please.’

« Very well. I propose this contract: I will grant you my powers in return for your aid in freeing me. I cannot force you to do anything against your will, nor will I withhold my powers from you to manipulate you into doing something you do not wish. And so I ask once more, will you accept this contract and form a pact with me? »

Surprised but grateful at the addendum, you agree, “I accept.”

« And so it shall be. »

You watch as a soft, blue light pulses through your veins, leaving a trail of comfortable heat in its wake. And then you know things, things you shouldn’t. Information is input into your head, information of what you are now capable of.

« As of this moment, you are my one and only warlock. I have granted you knowledge of your new abilities you are able to use as of now. I will grant you more in the future once you have gotten used to these and I have regained enough power. »

‘Cool, but, uh…how do I use it?’

« I would suggest using an arcane focus to channel your magic, » he proposed. « Once you have acclimated, I shall guide you on casting without one. »

‘So, what do I need? A crystal ball? A gemstone? AvVoodoo doll? A wand?’

« Nothing of the sort, though I am curious to learn what this ‘voodoo doll’ is. No, your instrument will work wonderfully. »

‘I can cast spells… with my violin? Like a bard?’

« Yes. It is something you are already familiar with and attuned to. While instruments are usually conduits for magic for bards, I believe it will work just as well for you. »

‘Yeah, that checks out. Music is a master manipulator of emotions.’ You clap your hands once to emphasize your next point: ‘So, got any idea where my violin is?’

« It’s behind you, dear. »

You turn around and yep. There it was. Violin and bow placed neatly on the ground behind you.

‘Oh… well, I feel stupid. Thank you though.’

« Anytime. »

You grab your instrument and slowly stand up, your legs sore and most definitely thoroughly bruised, complaining at being used.

‘So, uh, do I just have to always be holding it? I’d rather not have to run with my violin and bow in my hands. That’s just a disaster waiting to happen.’

« Hmm… With a few work-around I could probably register it as a pact-weapon of sorts, » Astaroth offered. « That way you will be able to summon and dismiss it at will. »

‘So I get to have a magic violin? Sweet.’ You smile excitedly. ‘How do we do this?’

« Currently you are not powerful enough to summon pact weapons at will, but since this is technically not a weapon, then theoretically I should be able to assign it as a pact-bound object which you can summon and dismiss. However, it may prove difficult at first, for the magic required will drain quite a bit of your energy in exchange. »

‘Yeah, that’s fine. Exhaustion is an old friend of mine, so I think I can handle it.’

You feel a flash of concern. « …As you wish. »

‘Cool. Well, I’m gonna go find Tav, Shadowheart, and Lae’zel now.’

« Of course, though I must warn you: You should never mention my name amongst others, » Astaroth warned. « My name has been taken by the one responsible for my suffering. Though not the most well known, he is still famous enough as an evil entity many frown upon. »

You suck air in through your teeth. “Good to know! I’ll keep that in mind.”

No longer dedicating your entire focus to conversing, you take a moment to look at your surroundings. You are on a small cliff of sorts. Down the cliff to your right is a small beach with a single dock, but your attention isn’t focused on that. Instead your eyes are drawn to the massive, burning wreckage of the ship you were on, its remains not even a meter away from the cliff’s base, its structure still managing to reach far above you. Yeah, you really don’t want to risk death by any of the debris crushing you. So, you turn on your heel and walk down the foot-trodden path, away from the shipwreck. It is only now that you notice someone else, partially obscured by some foliage. 

‘Ah shit. I hope they didn’t hear me talking to Astaroth. They’ll think I’m a total weirdo who talks to themself! …I mean, not that I’m not, but it’s embarrassing if other people know I talk to myself.’

The person, who you desperately hope didn’t hear you not even five minutes ago, is nervously looking for something in the tall grass in front of them, like they were trying to figure out if they caught a glimpse of a shiny Pokémon and didn’t want to scare it away. Curious, you quietly approach, keeping your footsteps light. Your stranger danger sirens are going off, but you ignore them because after the day you just had and finding out that you’ve been thrown into a world full of monsters, most of which aren’t the hot kind, you’d feel much safer with a stranger than on your own, a thought you’d never imagine you would ever have.

“You there!”

You squeak in surprise. You’re not used to people sensing your presence. More often than not, people don’t notice you, so you end up accidentally scaring them half the time.

“Come here— I need help!”

You cautiously inch your way forward, cursing your anxiety for making you so nervous.

“Hurry! I’ve got one of those brain things cornered. Come and help me kill it.”

For the first time, he turns towards you, revealing his face. He’s as pale as a ghost, but not in a sickly way. His white curls frame his face just right, his long pointed ears only slightly obscured by his hair. An elf, you assume. He’s pretty—beautiful—gorgeous—absolutely stunning. 

‘Is everyone in this world this beautiful? He’s even got that noble vampire aesthetic going on and I’m such a sucker for that, like, come on. Pretty girls and pretty boys?! Anxiety’s enough of a bitch with normal people! Gah, I’m gonna make a fool of myself aren’t I? I need an octopus pot, but for a human that I can crawl in. Astaroth? Do I have hidey-hole-making magic?’

Astaroth huffs a quiet, amused huff. « I’m afraid not, young one. Though please, be wary of this man. He’s planning to hold a knife to your throat as soon as you lower your guard. »

Your eyes widen, ‘I’m sorry, what? What makes you say that?’

« Because I saw it, » he said, matter-of-factly. « I preside over the domains of divination and prophecies. I can easily see possible outcomes a few seconds into the future. It's the same reason why I was able to help you on the nautiloid. »

‘Huh. Neat.’ The elf’s gaze meets yours once again. ‘…Why is it always the hot ones who have problems? Or would it be why are the villains always hot? Or am I just attracted to toxic people?’

“There, in the grass,” the pale elf motioned towards the foliage with his head. “Can you see it?” Perhaps he mistook your panicked expression for fear of the ‘brain thing,’ as he put it, because it seems like he’s trying to not-so-subtly nudge you towards helping him.

You stare at him, unsure. Instead of approaching, you lift your violin up and place it under your chin. You look towards the grass, trying to see what creature he’s talking about. You remain vigilant, flickering your eyes between him and the grass, heeding your patron’s warning. You tense when the underbrush violently rustles, then jump, surprised, as a boar leaps out. Luckily, it ignores you, opting to run by you instead. It’s when you glance back at the elf that you see him pull out a dagger. You take a step back, placing your bow on your strings, ready to hopefully produce some type of magic. You’re tense, your eyes never leaving his blade.

“I saw you on the ship, didn’t I?” He stated, question rhetorical. “Free, scuttling about.”

You hunch up your already-tense shoulders, smushing your violin against your face. You open your mouth to speak, stuttering out ‘uhs’ and ‘ums’ before you remember the language barrier.

‘What the fuck am I supposed to do? He can’t understand English!’

“You’re in league with them, aren’t you?” He continues to accuse you. “Those tentacled—argh!”

He’s cut off by a sharp pain in his mind, you assume, due to the identically painful twisting within your own. You see dark city streets, the faces of everyone you pass by. Then you see daylight accompanied by a dreadful fear, the same fear you had been feeling the entirety of the previous day. The fear of pain. The fear of dying.

“What was that?” He started to sound panicked now, the aggressive edge in his tone replaced by confusion. “What’s going on?”

You shrug as best you can, still holding your bow at the ready.

He sighs, “It’s those tentacled monsters. Whatever they did—whatever they put in us—just created a connection.They took you too. I saw it during… whatever just happened.” 

He drops his stance, sheathing his dagger behind him. You mirror him, lowering your bow and violin.

“And to think I was ready to decorate the ground with your innards. Apologies.” He bows briefly, then looks to you for a response.

Out of habit, you tuck your violin under your right arm, holding it against your side, angle your right foot behind you, and bow in return in the proper style of a musician ending their performance. You see his eyes twinkle with some unknown emotion; he’s too guarded to read. 

“Please, allow me to introduce myself. My name’s Astarion. I was in Baldur’s Gate when those beasts snatched me.”

You nod at him. “…(Y/n).”

“Not much of a conversationalist, are you? All right. Please tell me you at least know something about these worms.”

You shake your head. You never had the time to truly get into the deep lore of Dungeons & Dragons. You know some things from Critical Role, but that takes place on Exandria, not Toril, where you are now, so that basically makes all your knowledge worthless.

“I suppose it’s not exactly common knowledge,” his tone is light, not truly having expected you to know anything. “These worms are already affecting me. I can feel it. Now what to do about it…” He trails off in thought, looking towards you to see if you have anything to add.

You do what you do best: shrug.

“Well, getting out of here is a good place to start. Then finding anyone who might know about these worms. I need an expert. Someone who knows how to control these things…”

You motion behind you, thumb out: the classic hitchhiking sign. You nod your head in the same direction, hoping to get across the point that you’re asking him to come with you.

“You know, I was ready to go this alone, but maybe sticking with the herd isn’t such a bad idea. And you might be a useful person to know.” He looks you up and down, eyebrow raised.

Ah. That’s right. You’re wearing clothes from your world. Soft, comfy clothes that do not fit the high fantasy theme at all, what with your exotic earthling style and all. But hey, they’ve got deep pockets and soft lining, which you honestly care about more than fitting in. If you’re gonna get strange looks either way, might as well wear something cozy.

“Shall we, then? Lead on.”

You stand there, blinking, not having expected him to ask you to take the lead. You glance around, looking for a way to go, eventually deciding on the path heading away from the crash site. You lead the elf, Astarion, down the path that soon curves to run along the base of the cliff, too high for you to even consider climbing.

“So, whatever happened to those other three you were running around with?” Astarion breaks the silence.

You shrug. Again.

“Fair enough. Then, how about your shoes? I wouldn’t dream of walking around without any like you are.”

You look down, reminded by the fact that, sure enough, you still don’t have any shoes. ‘Oh well, suppose I’ll just give him another shrug.’

He sighs. “You know, it’s quite difficult to hold a conversation if you continue to stay silent. I know you can speak, you were able to tell me your name, after all, so why don’t you?”

“Eh…” You make a noncommittal noise and gesture with your hands a bit. [It’s complicated], you want to say, but you can’t.

“Well, I suppose if you don’t want to talk, I can’t exactly force you to,” he huffs.

You sheepishly smile at him, [sorry].

“Seems like I’ll just have to talk enough for the both of us,” he smirked down at you, “or we find some other way to communicate.”

[Okay], you sign with a smile, your thumb and index finger curling to form an open circle, your other fingers held straight up.

“…Three? Three what?” He asks in response to the three fingers you held up.

You shake your head and repeat the sign, [no, not three. It means okay].

“…I still don’t know what that means, so I suppose it falls on me to move this along.” He puts his hand to his chin in thought. “It will be dreadfully boring if we have to walk in silence the whole time. How about I ask you some questions and try to guess your answers with those weird little gestures you’ve been doing?” He suggests. “Though a bit of a pain, I suppose it would be better than nothing.”

You nod back. That sounds like a fair idea.

“Let’s try to get the hard ones out of the way. Why don’t you speak?”

You scrunch your face in thought. ‘How can I explain that?’ You spend a moment thinking about it. ‘Oh!’ [I got it!] You hit your fist to your open palm like you would when playing rock-paper-scissors. ‘I’ll just try and explain it like what happened in The Little Mermaid.’

You carefully maneuver your bow and violin to hold them both in one hand before turning to face him and open your mouth. He looks at you strangely. You raise your hand, miming sticking your arm down your throat. You close your hand around nothing, then pull your arm away. You stick your hand out and open it, dropping something from it. You then turn around and hold both hands out, as if you were someone else ready to catch what you dropped. Then you wiggled your fingers at Astarion, [Magic]! And thus ended your performance.

He looks very confused, and for good reason. “You pulled something from your mouth, gave that something to someone else, and then wiggled your fingers at me.”

You nod, excited. ‘Woah, he actually understood that!?’

“Honestly, did you really expect me to get anything out of that?” He asked dryly. “And here I thought bards were supposed to be good at performance and theatrics.”

‘Oh… he didn’t… yeah that checks out.’ You shake your head at him. [Not a bard].

“Are you seriously trying to say that was a good performance?” He asked incredulously. “That I was actually supposed to understand that?”

You shake your head [no] again, but with more force this time. You make circles with your free hand. [The other thing. I already know my performance was shitty]. He raises an eyebrow. You point to your violin. [I’m a violinist, but that doesn’t mean I’m a bard].

“Yes, your fiddle, you’re a bard, I know.” He was starting to sound exasperated.

You furiously shake your head at him. [No. Not. A. Bard].

“You’re… not a bard?”

You snap your fingers and give him a single finger gun alongside a smirk and nod. [Bingo].

“So you’re just a regular human who, despite not being a bard, tried to threaten me by playing an instrument?”

“Mmm,” you hum thoughtfully and tilt your hand, [sort of]. 

“Gods this is frustrating,” he mumbles under his breath. “Don’t you have something to write on? Spare paper or a book even?”

[Nope]. Another shake of your head.

“We’re getting nowhere at this rate.”

“Mm,” you nod, agreeing with him.

At this point the two of you have come across another part of the ship’s remains, cutting off the rest of the path. You have no choice but to go through. Only a few steps in and you see a mind flayer, laying on the ground, severely injured. As you approach, you feel it connect with you, filling you with feelings of compassion, urging you to let it devour you.

You get that same sick feeling of having your emotions messed with as you did on the ship, but you felt more repulsion than fear this time. ‘Uh, gross. No thanks,’ you back up.

« Perhaps you could take this chance to try out your powers? »

‘Oh, yeah. Target practice. It would probably be best to try it out now instead of in the middle of a fight, wouldn’t it.’

You raise your violin and stare into the mindflayer’s eyes for a brief second before squeezing your own shut. You place your bow against the E string. ‘E is for eldritch blast!’ Then you pull. The open E rings loud and clear. You feel an energy pulse through you, moving through your arms up to your fingertips. Daring to open your eyes a sliver, you see that familiar blue light gather where your bow meets the string. When you lift the bow from the string, the magic shoots away from you at an incredible speed, hitting the mind flayer right between the eyes, killing it instantly. You watched as life left its dulling eyes. In less than a second, you had both conjured magic and killed an intelligent being for the first time.

“…Holy shit,” You quietly mutter, the words coming out shakily.

“And you claim you’re not a bard.”

You don’t respond, only lower your violin, arms dangling by your side. You just killed a man. Well, not a man, per se, but still a living, breathing, thinking being. A being who is no longer living, breathing, thinking. You’re a murderer. Are you a murderer in the eyes of the law of Faerûn? Does it count if it’s a mind flayer? With what you just went through, you’d assume that this world doesn’t care if you kill a hostile mind flayer.

“Hello? Are you still there?”

You blink a couple times, seeing Astarion waving his hand in your face. You lean back and peer around his hand to make eye contact with Astarion.

“Ah, there you are,” he lowers his hand. In his eyes you find a vague sense of familiarity; of what, you don’t know. “Honestly, could you try not getting lost in your thoughts? The last thing we need is you freezing up after killing something, since I expect this is going to become a regular occurrence. Have you never killed anything before?”

You opt to just shake your head because no, you’ve never killed anyone. You never really had the means or reason to, back home.

He sighs, “I was afraid that would be the case. Well you’ll have to get used to it. We don’t have much of a choice in this situation.”

You look down at your feet. ‘Welp. Time to activate my trauma response: block it out and pretend it never happened.’ You breathe in—and breathe out. 

« Are you all right, young one? »

‘Yeah, I think? I don’t know. We’ll find out once I process these emotions…eventually.’

« I see. For now though, since you have used your instrument to wield magic, it can now be considered a type of pact-weapon, so you could be able to summon and dismiss it at will. You need only channel your intentions and it shall listen. Though for now, you will only be able to do so once per day. »

‘Okay.’ You gaze at your newly-crowned weapon. “Poof.” It turns into mist, slipping through your fingers like sand.

You look up to face Astarion but are distracted by movement behind him. Leaning to the side to see around him, you spot familiar white hair and contrasting purple skin. Hiding in the shadows are Tav and Shadowheart. Tav’s expression brightens when she sees you and begins to jog over.

“(Y/n)! You’re all right!” She called out to you.

You smile the same way she is and nod: Earth’s customer service smile meets Faerûn’s customer service smile. Maybe you’ll get to find out what she’s actually like if you continue to travel together, because you aren’t willing to believe for a second that her real personality is the customer service persona.

Her eyes glance over at Astarion, stopping about a meter in front of you. Shadowheart didn’t bother jogging to catch up, simply walking instead.

“Who’s this?”

You step to the side and gesture between the two, “Tav, Astarion. Astarion, Tav.”

Tav rapidly blinks as she looks at you, taken aback enough to drop her facade. “Oh, wow, I didn’t notice before but your accent is very thick.”

“Yes, quite,” Astarion remarks. “Is that the real reason you don’t talk? What made you think… that—“ he fumbles with his arms, vaguely mimicking your ‘pulling something out of your throat’ miming, “—would come across as you having an accent?” His tone was a bit harsh, but more dumbfounded than accusatory.

You open your mouth to rebuttal, but sigh instead and rub your temples. When you look up at him you rotate your hands around each other, [There’s more to it than that]. You sigh through your nose with a half-shrug. [It’s complicated].

Shadowheart finally joins the three of you, eyebrow raised, “Really? A game of charades? Now?”

“Ugh,” you groan, threading your fingers through your hair. “I can’t speak your weird alien language! Okay?! This is the best I can fucking do.”

“…Do any of you have a scroll of ‘detect thoughts’ or a potion of mind reading?” Tav asked, looking between the three of you.

“No, unfortunately.”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Uh-uh.”

“Well then, charades it is,” Tav puts her hands on her hips. “We can make a game out of it! Whoever interprets (y/n) correctly gets a point!”

“If you want to treat it as a game, I won’t stop you,” Shadowheart says, sounding very disinterested.

“Trust me when I say they are absolutely horrid at it, so good luck with that,” Astarion says to Tav, getting a mean side-eye from you. “Now, I believe we’ve already wasted enough time here, standing around and playing games.”

You put your hands up in surrender, ‘Hey, don’t look at me, you’re the ones who decided to critique me.’

As a group of four, you make your way to the north to leave the remains of the nautiloid. Before you clear the wreck, you tap Tav’s shoulder to get her attention. When she looks at you, you gesture towards your feet.

“What happened to your shoes?”

You respond with what is quickly becoming your favorite motion: a shrug.

“Well, I did happen across a couple pairs of shoes– one moment,” she rifles through her back before pulling out a pair of shoes and a pair of boots. “Here you are, see if either of these fit.”

‘...How do you just happen upon two pairs of shoes–actually, you know what. I don’t wanna know.’ You slip on the boots,  opting for them instead of the shoes that have some dark stains on them, grateful for their protection after all the pebbles you’ve been stepping on. They’re a bit too big, but they’ll do. Tav nods and puts the shoes back in her bag, then takes the lead as you all exit the wreckage.

“So, this is Shadowheart,” Tav introduces her to Astarion, “and as you already know, I’m Tav, that’s (y/n), and you’re… Astarion? Did I say that right?”

“A pleasure, although I am a bit surprised you managed to understand despite their accent,” Astarion subtly jabs at your supposed ‘accent.’ “Speaking of, I don’t believe I recognize it. Pray tell, just where do you hail from?” He asks you.

You give him an unamused look. ‘My mans, how the hell am I supposed to try and tell you where I’m from? Not that I was even planning to in the first place. With their hatred towards mindflayers, not that I blame them though, I really don’t wanna know what they’d think of me if they found out I was some kind of alien.’

“Does it really matter?” Shadowheart asks. “It’s not like we’d be able to understand their answer in the first place.”

You point to Shadowheart and nod, [she’s right, you know].

“We can try and guess,” Tav suggests. “Can you try to give us any hints? Like your clothes! I’ve never seen that style before; what about you guys? Do either of you recognize it?”

“No, but they definitely look ill-suited for combat,” Shadowheart sizes you up.

Astarion just shakes his head, but his attention stays focused on you, his gaze growing ever the more suspicious.

“Hmm, what else… if I handed you a map, could you point out where you’re from?”

You shrug, [who’s to say?]

“I’m out of ideas then. Do you have anything on you that can tell us where you’re from?” Tav asks.

You shake your head again. At this rate you’re going to end up rattling your brain into a vicious headache.

“Oh, well. No helping it, I guess. Hopefully we’ll find someone who has mind reading potions for sale.”

You purse your lips. ‘I really don’t wanna get my mind read. How deep does a potion let them pry? Will they find out I’m an alien? Will they find out that my patron’s Astaroth? ‘Cause that would be super bad. Wait, would they even be able to understand your thoughts since you speak an alien language? But what if that doesn’t matter? What if the mind reading stuff does auto-translating? I can’t risk that! Okay, (y/n), you have a new objective: don’t let them read your mind. You can’t let them find out you’re an alien. No way, no how. You just gotta blend in as best you can. You’ve been bullshitting your way through life for years; getting yeeted to a different world doesn’t mean your skills have disappeared. We got this. You got this. I got this.’

Climbing out of the smoking wreckage your group emerges onto a wide dirt path, obviously well-traversed. It spits in two, one way continuing up the stairs and slopes to the left, the other veering off to the right, where you can see a very obvious magic portal on the cliff face practically screaming at you to take a look. You tug on Tav’s robe to get her attention, pointing at the portal when you do.

“Well, that is certainly strange,” she says, confused. “Let’s check it out.” She heads off, expecting the rest of you to follow, which you do.

‘So magic portals aren’t all that common. Good to know, good to know.’

You pointedly ignore the three dead goblins in the way, making sure to step around their bodies. Tav didn’t seem bothered by them, as they immediately went to loot their pockets. The portal, when you arrive in front of it, is a deep empty black, its outer rim swirling with purple magic. It’s just begging to be poked.

And so you do that.

You slowly reach out and gently poke it, recoiling when you get shocked by magical static electricity.

‘Rude.’

And then a hand sticks out, making you jump back because you weren’t prepared for a jump scare. “A hand? Anyone?” A masculine voice calls out from the portal.

You tentatively slip your hand in theirs and shake it, then release it. ‘Is this proper etiquette? To shake someone’s hand when they stick it through a portal to greet them as they come out?’

“Perhaps I should have clarified,” the voice of the person who you assume the hand belongs to speaks again. “A helping hand, please?”

You look at Tav. You don’t know how to get people through portals. She comes up to you and grabs hold of the arm as you step aside. Then she pulls.

“That’s it! Go on, keep pulling!”

The portal suddenly dilates, a man popping out of it, him and Tav both careening onto the ground. 

‘Oh… that’s what they meant… Yeah, I’m an idiot. In my defense, my mind has been under too much pressure to work correctly. Yeah. That’s definitely the reason.’

“Ooft,” He grunts before standing up. “Hello. I’m Gale of Waterdeep.” He reaches forward and gives Tav a firm handshake with both his hands. “Apologies, I’m usually better at this.” 

“At introductions?” Tav asks. 

“At magic. Say, but I know you, don’t I? In a manner of speaking. You were on the nautiloid as well.”

“I was, yes.”

“Then I can only assume you too were on the receiving end of a rather unwelcome insertion in the ocular region.” 

“Yes, do you know anything about those worms?” 

“The inserted we speak of, this parasite—are you aware that after a period of excruciating gestation it will turn us into mind flayers? It’s a process known as ceremorphosis—”

‘Why is his cadence so weird? Ceremor-PHO-sis? Wouldn’t you say cere-MOR-phosis? You know, like metamorpho—wait did he say “turn us into mind flayers”?’

“—and let me assure you: it is to be avoided. You don’t happen to be a cleric by any chance, do you? A doctor? Surgeon? Uncannily adroit with a knitting needle?” He mimes sewing with his last phrase and you can’t help the little huff of laughter that comes out. He glances your way with a small smile, glad someone appreciates his joke.

“You seem to know enough about our condition to realize it is beyond most clerics’ skills,” Shadowheart adds.

“Most, no doubt,” Gale confirms. “But I find myself hoping to be in the presence of the few. You don’t happen to be one of them?”

“Unfortunately, no. I was actually hoping you might know someone,” Tav replies.

“Then it looks like we’re both starved for answers. We’re most certainly going to need a healer, and soon too. How about we lend each other a helping hand once more and look for a healer together?” 

“Sounds like a plan,” Tav smiles, arms akimbo. “You’re more than welcome to join us.” 

“Most excellent. A parasite shared is a parasite…halved. Or something to that effect. 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.”

“Of course. Now we should probably introduce ourselves. I’m Tav, that’s Shadowheart, (y/n), and Astarion.”

“It is lovely to meet you all.”

“Likewise,” Shadowheart says, still seeming pretty disinterested.

“Hm,” Astarion hums, busy looking at his nails.

You hold out your hand for a handshake, which Gale doesn’t hesitate to take.

“Ah, so you’re the one who shook my hand. Your magic is unlike most I’ve felt before.” Looks like you just outed yourself as the person who shook his hand instead of helping him, because you’re an idiot. “And I don’t believe I’ve ever come across anyone who dresses as you do. Where do you hail from, friend?”

You look to Tav with pleading eyes, [can you explain, please]? 

“I should mention it will be difficult to get any answers out of them,” Tav explains. She continues when Gale looks at her questioningly. “They have a very thick accent, to the point where we can’t really understand what they’re saying. We’ve been stuck playing charades to understand them.”

“Would you try saying something? I might recognize where you’re from once I hear it,” his eyes glittered with the natural curiosity of a researcher. Whether it was for you or your magic, you weren’t sure.

“Hmm,” you tap your lips in thought. “Um…Ah… I don’t know?”

Gale squints at you, deep in thought. 

‘Oh. I said that out loud didn’t I? Well, problem solved, now I don’t need to say anything.’

“Well, for starters, I would say that it’s not just an accent, they’re speaking in a different language entirely.”

You give Gale the same snap with finger guns you did with Astarion, [Bingo].

“I believe that means you got it right, if I’m understanding our past “conversation” correctly,” Astarion adds, adding air quotes around ‘conversation’.

You nod.

“How curious,” Gale says, even more intrigued. “You understand us just fine, though, correct?”

Another nod.

“Hmm, perhaps the parasite somehow affected your speech,” he speculated. “How peculiar. We’ll have to look more into this later. For now, let’s focus on finding a healer.”

With that, you and the rest of your party turn back to go along the other direction the path took. You once again avoid looking at the goblin corpses. Gale falls into step alongside Tav at the front of the group, chatting with her about something you can’t quite make out.

“I have to admit, I’m not too fond of the idea of traveling with a wizard that traps himself in rocks with his own magic,” you hear Astarion say from your left.

You tilt your head at him, [Is that not normal]? ‘It looks just like that hidey-hole magic that I want.’

“Well, a wizard whose spells backfire doesn’t seem very useful in a fight. Who knows what could end up happening.”

Ah, he didn’t understand you. But it seems that this isn’t normal, so you got your answer anyway. It’s then that you hear shouting up ahead, Tav automatically changing paths to lead you towards it. Up ahead you see two tieflings, at least, you think they’re tieflings, arguing with each other. Behind them, trapped in a suspended cage, is Lae’zel, looking very upset. Tav immediately hurries, running up to the two tieflings to see what the situation is. She’s already talking by the time you catch up, glancing between the pair and Lae’zel. You casually slide your hands in your pockets; you trust her to take care of this. Besides, you’re already socially exhausted. You didn’t want to try being the negotiator when you couldn’t even fucking talk.

Something smooth brushes against your fingers.

‘What the fuck?’

Your brows furrow as you reach deeper into your pocket. It’s a familiar shape, one you know from handling it everyday. How the hell did your phone end up here? You were pretty sure it wasn’t in your pocket when you were abducted.

« So you call that wonderful device a ‘phone’? »

‘Yeah, but, how did it get here?’

You hear Astaroth clear his throat, a bit bashful. « Well, it has been a long time since I’ve heard music, longer still since I’ve heard music from your world, and it’s changed quite drastically from what I can recall. So,  I may have acted a tad selfish and used the magic I was planning on using to transport you on your phone when you were abducted. »

‘Hey, it’s fine, truly, but I don’t know if we’ll ever get a chance to listen to any of the music I have.’

« Will it not work here? » You swear you can hear him pouting.

‘No it’s just—Listen, I really can’t let them know that I’m from Earth. If any of them see this they’re gonna know something’s up. Then I’ll have to explain myself and it’s gonna suck. What if I fuck up so badly and they catch me in a lie that they think I’m some evil entity who’s come to kill them or a mind flayer in disguise? If I avoid all that by admitting I’m an alien and I don’t know anything about this world, then I have to ask about things, everything really, and I hate doing that. Talking to people is really scary. This, speaking with you, is different though because I have inner-monologues all the time anyway, and you can only speak in my head, so it almost feels like I’m just talking to myself, and I’m great at that. And you already know I’m from Earth. Have you heard of social anxiety? Because I have that and it’s real bad. Honestly? Take your time with that speaking module. Having an excuse not to talk is great. I get to go non-verbal and everyone is okay with it. I could sing whatever I want and have nobody understand the lyrics! Not like I’m going to sing in front of anyone, but if I did I wouldn’t have to worry about that.. If you want, and if you’re able to, you can look into my memories and hear some Earth music, but I will not play anything on my phone unless we are very, very alone.’

« …I believe I have failed to realize how stressful these events have been for you. »

‘Sorry, when I get super stressed I tend to break down into spiraling thoughts that occupy my anxious mind and ramble on so much that I don’t even realize what I’m saying anymore because I’m on autopilot and I’m doing it again, fuck, sorry.’

« Do not apologize for that which is not your fault. »

‘Okay, I’ll try. No promises though. It’s hard to change habits, especially speech habits.’

You then feel that familiar icky squirming in your skull.

(“(Y/n), can you hear me?”)

You freeze up, eyes widening. Why was Tav’s voice in your head now? You snap your head to look up at Tav.

(“Oh, good! It seems like you can!”) She smiles at you. (“Lae’zel was able to talk to me via the parasite, so I thought to try this out so you don’t have to rely on gestures anymore.”)

You purse your lips, a bit panicked. You know nothing. You think nothing. No thoughts, head empty vibes only. You try to send over the uncomfortable feeling of the tadpole’s squirming.

(“Yeah, it’s a bit unpleasant, but at least now we’ll have an alternative way of communicating.”) She was much more excited about this than you were.

‘Wall.’

Tav furrows her brow, “Hmm, it seems like even with the tadpole, I still can’t hear her speak.”

‘Holy shit that fucking worked.’

“Hmm, very intriguing indeed,” Gale looked at you with the eyes of a scholar parched for knowledge, begging to look inside your head.

You try to shrug nonchalantly, [Oh well, nothing we can do about it, right? Guess we’ll just have to forget about this and move on, right]?

“You’d best hope the tadpole isn’t turning you already, istik.” Lae’zel, who had been released from her prison while you were spiraling, was very intimidating when her eyes met yours. “As soon as you show any sign of transformation I will take your head.”

As if your anxiety couldn’t get any worse, Lae’zel just has to prove you wrong.

“Don’t worry, Lae’zel, we’ll make sure that doesn’t happen to any of us,” Tav reassures her, placing a hand on her shoulder which Lae’zel immediately shrugs off. “The sun’s getting low now, so why don’t we just set up camp and get some semblance of a proper rest?”

Nobody needed any convincing, save for Lae’zel remarking that first thing in the morning we need to search for a crèche. After a little while of searching, your party comes across a cozy spot near the river, far away from the crash site and secluded enough you wouldn’t need to fear many hostile beings potentially arriving. Quickly enough, everyone finds a spot and starts putting up their tents; all except you, of course. You don’t have a tent. Because you were at home when you were kidnapped so why would you have a tent on you. So you find a lonely spot by the river, and you stand there and wait.

It doesn’t take long for Tav to notice you doing nothing after she finishes setting up her tent, “Hey, something the matter? You need help getting your tent up?”

You blandly gesture to the empty ground in front of you and look to her, [I will, but first, I will need a tent to put up].

“Oh, you don’t have a tent, do you? Give me a moment, I believe I picked up a camping pack along the way; I’ll check if there’s a tent in there.” She runs off and rifles through a large chest near Shadowheart’s tent, coming back with a large pack soon afterwards. “Here we are,” she places the pack down in front of you, taking out a large bundle you assume is a tent. “Come, I’ll show you how to set it up.”

You spend a good part of the next half an hour learning how to raise your tent with Tav. When you finish you begin to smell the lovely aroma of food wafting from the center of camp. As if in a trance, you find yourself walking towards the campfire and see Gale stirring a pot above the flames.

“Dinner’s just about ready,” He says, seeing you and Tav approach. 

“Smells great!” Tav happily sits near the fire, practically drooling at the aroma.

“I’m glad you think so,” he smiles at her. “Hopefully some good food in our stomachs will make our situation a bit more bearable.”

You sit down as well, hugging your knees to your chest. The fire is warm, welcoming as the sun begins to set and the world grows colder. It’s nice, albeit without the comforting feel Astaroth’s warmth always brings. Glancing over you can see Lae’zel tending to her sword and Astarion lounging just outside his tent with a book. Shadowheart soon joins the three of you already at the fire, and with perfect timing too as Gale starts serving out the soup he’d been making.

Without even needing to be called over, Lae’zel comes to grab her bowl and quickly gulps down her soup, not even bothering to take a seat. She simply hands the bowl back when she’s done and returns to sharpening her weapon. 

“Astarion, soup’s done!” Tav calls out. “Are you going to have some?”

He doesn’t even bother looking up from his book. “Thank you, but I’m not exactly hungry after the day I’ve had,” he waves her off. 

She shrugs, “Suit yourself. More for me then,” she immediately refills her bowl as soon as she finishes her first one.

You’re slow to finish your soup, which could admittedly use more salt. D&D is technically high fantasy, right? Does that mean salts and spices are precious commodities and you’ll be stuck eating unseasoned food for the foreseeable future? This is gonna suck if that’s the case. You retreat further into your mind as you eat, taking some time to commune with your patron as a new thought comes to mind.

‘Do you need me to like, set up an altar and send you offerings and stuff? Burn some food or spill some wine?’

« No, there wouldn’t be much of a point of sending me anything if it’s just going to turn to ash within a second. »

‘Oh. Right. I don’t really know how this warlock stuff here works. My only basis is how witchcraft works back home, so you’re really going to have to lead me through this, sorry.’

« …Yes, we’ll definitely have to work on you apologizing for things out of your control. »

‘Oh, right, sorry.’

You hear a weary sigh.

‘…Yeah, that’s gonna take a lot of work to change.’

You swear you could almost feel a ghostly pat on your shoulder, but that would be impossible. Finishing your meal, you stand up and head for the river to at least rinse off your bowl—you weren’t sure if anyone had soap, let alone how to even ask for soap.

“Are you turning in for the night, (y/n)?” Tav asks, almost finished with her second helping.

You shake your head, [not yet]. You point to the river then mime scrubbing your bowl, [gotta rinse this off, first].

“You forget you have a wizard among you now,” Gale smiles. 

With a flick of his fingers and a short burst of magic, your bowl is suddenly as clean as before you used it. You stare at it, wide-eyed. You don’t care what you might be able to do, that was the most impressive magic you’ve ever seen. If you could clean anything with a wiggle of your fingers, your life would have been a lot easier, being the clumsy person you are.

“A little prestidigitation is all, no need to clean by hand.”

Looking at Gale in awe, you gently hand your magically-cleaned bowl back to him. [Thank you], you sign. 

You wave to the three at the campfire to bid them goodnight before you crawl into your tent. Your bedroll lies there, next to the pack Tav had given you, just inviting you to slip inside. So you do. It’s not as comfortable as your bed, but still cozier than you were expecting. You wiggle down into it, cocooning yourself until only the top half of your face is sticking out.

‘So about putting out that hellfire; we should probably start talking about that.’

« If you are not too fatigued, then yes. »

‘Soooo, what have you already tried?’

« Not much, admittedly. I can assure you that dousing or smothering the flames will not work. My own magic doesn’t seem to do much either. It has been a long time since I last had an ally, longer still since I had one who was powerful enough to aid me. Since this cycle first began, in the early days of the blood war, the number of allies I’ve had amounts to less than ten. I am mostly forgotten. Very few mortals have learned the truth of the name Astaroth, and fewer still have been able to invoke me. Most end up invoking Gargauth in my place. » His calm tone changed when he mentioned that name, a deep hatred, a grudge that has persisted for millennia, tainted that name with a deep, fearsome loathing unlike anything you could possibly imagine. 

You try to mentally convey to him the feeling of you patting him on the back, “that’s rough buddy.”

He chuckled a bit, « I must say, no one has ever called me ‘buddy’ before, and yet you have already done so twice. »

You begin to feel quite embarrassed before a pleasant warmth cuts through it, emanating from your chest. « It’s been a long time since I’ve laughed, so long that I thought I had lost the ability to do so. » You could hear the melancholy in his words, but the warmth in your chest never faded. « And yet you’ve managed to greatly amuse me more times this past day than I have in one thousand years. I look forward to seeing how often you make me laugh. »

‘I’ll try my best.’ You smile and can sense him smiling in return. ‘But that name you mentioned, Gargauth… are they the one who did this to you?’

« Yes. He is an arch-devil-turned-deity. He’s one of the main reasons my hatred for devils runs so deep. I’ve never liked any devil I’ve met, but I despise him. You felt my loathing for fiends seep into you when we saw that cambion on the nautiloid. Now you know why. »

‘Yeah, I don’t blame ya. He sounds like a dick.’

Another chuckle from him makes you smile.

« I must say, I forgot how pleasant it was to be able to talk with someone like this. »

‘Well, I’m not leaving anytime soon, so let’s hope you don’t get sick of me.’

« Impossible. »

Mentally, physically, and socially exhausted, it doesn’t take long for you to fall into a deep, dreamless slumber.

Next Chapter >

[hard-boiled-criminal]

Social Anxiety Really Ruins the Isekai Experience

Previously known as: Brimstone from the Throat

Chapter 2 - Baldur's Isekai

< Ch 1 | Ch 3 >

Masterlist

Ao3 Mirror

 Pliiing…pling-pling-pliNG-pLING-PLING. The rising notes of a plucked violin could be heard in the otherwise silent room as you sat there, steadily tuning your beloved instrument. Bing-bong-bong-bing. You smiled in satisfaction at the sound of the four perfectly tuned strings, the last of which still softly humming from its pluck. And then you purposefully altered your e-string, tuning it to be an e-flat instead. You’d always loved the solo in Danse Macabre with how the violin was purposefully out of tune to create that haunting tritone, the diabolus of music. 

You pulled up the song on your phone as you stood up and let it begin to play as you readied your violin on your shoulder, bow in hand. You took a deep breath and put your bow to the strings. With a confident pull, you began, playing along with the music. You swayed along to your playing, letting the natural movement aid in your pushes and pulls with the bow. Or was it the other way around? You could never really tell, the music always taking a hold of you and causing your body to move whenever you performed or simply listened.

You played the final note and stood there, letting the tone ring out while relishing in the satisfying aftermath of a piece well-played. With a content grin you gently moved the violin off your shoulder.

«T’was a lovely performance.»

You flinched, startled at hearing a disembodied masculine voice in your head, instinctively tightening your grip on your violin and bow, afraid of dropping them.

“…Thank you? I suppose?” You answered, nervous and uncertain. Your eyes darted around the room, understandably confused and a bit freaked out at the situation.

«Ah, yes, one should introduce themselves when first meeting an other,» the voice, low and smooth, spoke in dulcet tones. «Thou mayst calleth this one Astaroth. A pleasure to make thine acquaintance.»

‘Astaroth? I feel like I’ve heard that name before…’ you thought to yourself.

«Ah, I am glad. I hadst known there wouldst be a chance thou hast heard mine name before, though I didst not dare hope of having such luck,» the voice responded to your thoughts. «If thou art willing, there is a request I wouldst ask of thee.»

“Wait, wait a minute,” you backpedaled. “Look, buddy, I have no idea what’s going on. Am I going crazy? I must be. I’m hearing a voice in my head and talking to myself.” You laughed to yourself. “Ok, (y/n), no more late-night horror for you—you know it always gives you nightmares, and now they’ve started seeping into the land of the living since you’re sleep deprived.”

«I assure thee, thou art of good health, thy mind included,» they spoke again, further dashing your hope of there being a sane explanation for this. «I only ask of thee to first hear mine plea.»

“…Fuck it, whatever. Go ahead.” You sat down, violin hugged tight to your chest. You must be dreaming, so you might as well let it play out.

A sigh of slight disappointment, though not malicious, came from the voice, «‘Twould seem thou still hast thy doubts, yet I thank thee all the same,» a pause and then they speak again, «I am knownst as Astaroth, a demon lord of the Abyss. I have cometh to thee in search of aid for thou hast magickal potential untapped and untampered, and thou hast not been influenced by an other entity.»

“Okay, maou* stuff, classic anime, gotcha,” you nodded, playing along with whatever dream scenario your subconscious mind has come up with.

«I knoweth not what thou speakest of, but mineself senseths no hostility, so I shall taketh thy words as positive.»

“Cool. So, what didja wanna ask me?”

«I require’st thine aid in—Zshaa!» They interrupted themselves mid-sentence with a surprised and desperate shout, a sound reminiscent of a crash of a violent wave.

The air in front of you rippled and you froze, a scream stuck in your throat as the space in front of you tore to reveal a velvety black.  

«Quick—!» The voice was barely able to shout out a single syllable before it was abruptly cut off at the same time a giant tentacle emerged from the dimensional rip. You pressed yourself against the back of your chair and opened your mouth to scream as it shot towards you, but you had no time to utter a sound before everything went dark.

You awoke to the feeling of your mind being pulled at, an unnatural force compelling you to wake. It was a sensation unlike anything you had experienced before. It felt as if your brain got whiplashed while your body held still, with a pinpoint headache forming at the center of your forehead.

‘If this is what it feels like to open your third eye, then I’m never opening it again.’

This was your first thought as you were forced to consciousness, your eyelids flickering open, lacking the usual heaviness felt when being woken up.

‘…why is there a person-sized Cthulhu in front of me? And why aren’t they green??’

Your second thought was about this strange creature in front of you, slate-purple in color with four tentacles in place of a mouth. You watched in morbid curiosity as the Cthulhu raised its four-digit hand and reached out towards you.

‘Is Cthulhu asking for an E.T. moment? Well, far be it from me to deny him.’

You tried to raise your hand, but found it trapped underneath something. Attempting to look down and see what held your hand hostage was met with failure as your head was suddenly snapped back up to face the creature head on. You tried to look around in a bit of a panic, not understanding why your body was being pulled around, but you couldn’t move your head– your eyes darted to and fro to compensate, but you couldn’t see much besides the creature. That panic increased tenfold as you watched the Cthulhu hold up a pale, fleshy, leech-like creature and slowly bring it towards your face. You tried to back up against the odd-textured surface behind you—solid in some places and squishy in others.

‘Ew, ew, ew, ew, gross, gross, gross, gross!’

 You tried to close your eyes, but they wouldn’t listen to you. They were being held open as the undulating invertebrate came closer, closing in on your eye.  You could see it clearly: tentacles sprouting from what you could only call its lips, serrated teeth forming a circle within its mouth, a high-pitched screech growing louder as it came nearer. You couldn’t tell if the screech was from it or if it was your own. Frozen in place, you could only watch as it leapt forward, grasping your eye.

You can’t recall what happened after that, now finding yourself spread out on the ground, the beginnings of a migraine forming behind your eyes. You sit up slowly, legs bent and splayed to your sides, hand resting on the floor in front of you. You stare ahead blankly, looking but not truly seeing what’s in front of you, your vision not focusing, not that you even tried to do so. You sit there in silence, minutes passing by, all sounds around you muffled to complete unintelligibility. 

“…What the fuck,” you shakily whisper, but no one was around to hear it save for you.

Your senses slowly come back to you, letting you begin to process all the stimuli assaulting you. It was warm—hot— sweltering in the dimly lit room. The sound of roaring wind can be heard through the walls, interrupted by rumbling roars and quick, intermittent explosions. 

«…ng one? Young one, art thou able to hear mineself?» You hear the warm voice of Astaroth, the only thing that’s at least slightly familiar right now.

“Astaroth?” You weakly ask. “Is that you? Wha-what’s going on?”

You hear a sigh filled with relief and guilt pass through your mind. «I must apologize to thee, young one,» his voice is low, sad, and filled with utmost remorse. «’Twould appear that mine defenses were lacking, for a nautiloid breached mine channel and hadst used it to taketh thee. Thou art in a different realm, connected to a material world far removed from thine own.»

“I’m what?” ‘A different realm? A material world? What the fuck is happening?’ You glance over the dark room you find yourself in, trying to discern what exactly happened. You see your violin and bow scattered across the floor, both close enough for you to reach over and grab. You hold your instrument close and move your legs to sit criss-cross as Astaroth continues to speak.

«…I am truly sorry, young one. More shall be discussed betwixt us, yet that must wait for a later time. I senseth the approach of three beings whose intentions I knoweth not.» He pauses for a brief second before taking on a serious tone, not unlike one of a commander. «Unto thee I swear this: For as long as thou art willing, I shall protect thee until the time hast come when thou returnest to thy home. On mine name and on mine honor, I commit to this oath.» His tone then returns to a much softer one, gentler than anything else you’ve heard from him. «’Tis mine own fault thou art in this predicament. I shall aid thee. Thou wilt not be bound to fulfill mine request, though I hope thou shalt consider it once there is time laid before us to allowest conversation.»

“I—I still don’t really know what’s going on, but thank you, Astaroth,” you can feel yourself begin to smile, “I’ll put my trust in you.” The brief thought that you might be feeling the beginnings of some kind of stockholm syndrome passed through your head, but you quickly pushed it away.

You feel a gentle warmth bloom throughout your body, starting at your sternum.

«Of course, young one. Now be on thy guard. The three of whomst I hadst spoken of have arrived.»

You nod and stand up on barely steady legs, the ground oddly warm beneath your sock-clad feet; it seems your kidnappers weren’t kind enough to get you some shoes. Afterall, you weren’t a heathen who wore shoes around their house, so naturally you weren’t wearing any when you were kidnapped.

 ‘Okay… You can do this, (y/n). You have a demon lord in your corner, after all.’ You hold your violin close to your chest by its neck in one hand and hold your bow like a rapier in the other. You really don’t want to damage it but if you can poke that squid-face’s eye out with it, then so be it.

Across the room, the sphincter-like portal opens by twisting apart from the center. The motion and sound of it combined with its design made you want to retch. More light filtered in, enough where you could clearly see the finer details of your surroundings, but not enough to suddenly blind you for more than half a second. Three humanoid figures entered, weapons drawn—well, one of them just held their fists up but to each their own. Then, you get a good look at them.

By the gods, they were beautiful. Three gorgeous femme figures: A pale one with dark hair tied high in a long braid, one red-haired and green-skinned with black markings, not human but you shouldn’t be surprised after seeing a Cthulhu-type creature earlier, and finally a dark elf—a drow, skin purple and hair white as snow, hanging down her back in a thick braid, the length great enough to reach the back of her knees.

Your appreciation is sadly cut short when they point their weapons, or fists, courtesy of the drow, at you. Violin and bow still held tightly, you immediately give up on the notion of fighting and raise your hands to the sides of your head: the universal sign of surrendering, or at least you hope it will translate as such in this different realm. Then the drow speaks. It’s a language unknown to you, its syllables filled with as many consonants as seemingly possible, including sounds you aren’t even sure your mouth can make. You stare, eyes wide open and flickering between the three of them.

“Uhhhhh…”

 «Ah, yes, I hadst almost forgotten. This may feeleth a bit strange to thee, but it shall allow for you to understand the tongues of this world and its realms, to an extent,» Astaroth said, though it seemed the people in front of you couldn’t hear his voice, or they at least made no indication of hearing him. You feel a gentle touch to your temples, that same comfortable warmth you felt earlier spreading throughout your head and easing the small migraine to nothingness.

You see the drow open her mouth again before you flinch at a sharp pain in your mind in the same place as the migraine you had just been relieved of. You see flashes of one of those tentacled beings putting a leech in the green one’s eye before floating over to do the same to you. These aren’t your memories. You open your eyes, not realizing you had even closed them, and see the drow clutching her head, wincing in the same way you are.

“Looks like you’re in the same boat as us,” the drow says, seemingly trying to smile, though it ends up looking more like a grimace. 

Your eyes widen a bit, amazed that you can understand her. You can still hear her speaking that odd language, but it is almost like it’s being automatically translated in your head.

“First things first, we need to get to the helm to get off this ship,” she continues. “You should join us. We infected should stick together, don’t you think?” She smiles kindly at you.

“Chk! We cannot afford to pick up any more strays, istik!” The green one, sounding very annoyed, directs her gaze to the drow.

“More allies means more firepower, right?” The drow tries to placate her.

“Hmph. This one looks pitiful. If they fall behind we leave them. I have no interest in the weak,” she turns around after spewing some harsh words at you. “We have no time to waste. We must get to the bridge now!”

As the green one starts to walk out of the room, the drow smiles sheepishly at you while the ravenette stares at you, appraising you, with arms crossed. 

“Ah, don’t mind Lae’zel,” the drow says, “I’m sure she just stressed. We don’t want to get left behind, so let’s get going, yeah?”

“Oh, uh sure. Yeah,” you clumsily agree and step towards her.

She gives you a confused look but shrugs it off in favor of following the one you now know as Lae’zel. The pale woman eyes you one last time before joining her. You quickly fall into step beside them, the three of you trailing behind Lae’zel.

«Looks like you’re able to understand them now. I’m glad.» Astaroth speaks in what you presume to be his native tongue. His language is beautiful, sounding like softly droning ocean waves. «I’m afraid I was unable to, for a lack of a better term, import the ability to speak these languages into your mind. It is much more difficult to implant such finite muscle memory paired alongside their respective reverse-translation routes.» He hummed in thought, «This will take some time for me to formulate but I will grant you the ability to speak common as soon as possible.»

‘Ok, cool, but a quick question. Why did your speech pattern suddenly change?’ You ask him.

«I’m a bit embarrassed to say this but my knowledge of your language is a bit outdated. How I spoke to you is the most recent knowledge of your tongue I have,» he explains, sounding a tad sheepish. «If you would allow me to look into your mind, I could begin to compile an updated vernacular, .»

‘As long as it doesn’t hurt, then sure, knock yourself out.’

«Thank you. Hopefully this will help quicken my composition process to allow you to speak freely. But for now, I’ve been seeing that drow stealing glances at you.» You turn your head to see what he’s talking about and sure enough she’s looking at you, and you end up meeting the drow’s eyes. «I’ll leave you to speak with your new companion. Fret not, though, I’ll be here should you need me.»

Locking gazes with the drow seemed to be all the permission she needed to strike up a conversation with you. “Well, I think some introductions are in order. As I said before, that’s Lae’zel,” she pointed to the grumpy red-head. “The quiet one is Shadowheart,” she points at the ravenette this time, “and you can call me Tav.” She smiles at you, “and what about you? What’s your name?”

“…(y/n).” It’s just your name, so you shouldn’t need to rely on a translator, right?

“Huh, never heard that one before,” Tav taps her bottom lip once. “I like it! Exotic and pretty!”

Tav was very… upbeat considering the situation and had been using a friendly tone you know all too well. How could you not recognize it when you had perfected that same tone and had been using it for years? Even across worlds and in an alien language, the customer service voice is always the same.

“Silence your mindless chatter!” Lae’zel shuts down your introductions. “The bridge is just up ahead.”

*maou: Japanese demon king/demon lord. A classic character you’ll find in lots of Japanese media. Hello, yes, hi, it’s me, a weeb.

Speech key:

«Astaroth»

(“Tadpole talk”)

‘Thoughts’ - can be to self or Astaroth, depending on context

“Spoken aloud”

Next Chapter >

[hard-boiled-criminal]

Social Anxiety Really Ruins the Isekai Experience

Previously known as: Brimstone from the Throat

Chapter 4 - I May Be Stupid

< Ch 3 | Ch 5 >

>Ch 1<

Masterlist

Ao3 Mirror

From now on, the successfulness of your actions will be based on real dice rolling, brought to you by my dice collection, indicated by this: {Dice Result}

Also, every time you level up, I will link a pdf to the reader’s new character sheet (mostly to keep track of stats and spells), if you’re interested in looking at it. Instead of charisma, Astaroth’s warlock is dex based because you gotta be at least a little dexterous to play an instrument. There’s also other extraneous information and sources in the folder below if you’re interested in some lore diving.

Character sheet + ex info: brimstone from the throat

Your sleep isn’t very restful, to say the least. You’re not used to sleeping on such hard, uneven ground with rocks poking into you through the bedroll. You wake up with your body sore and aching, understandably so considering your latest experiences. You blink groggily, staring up at your tent’s ceiling.

‘Yep. Still here. On an alien planet I didn’t even think was real.’ You groan when you sit up, your back complaining at the movement. ‘Oof, fuck, and definitely not a dream.’

« Good morning. »

“Ah–!” You yelp, but quickly cut yourself off.

“(Y/n)?” You hear Tav outside your tent. “Are you alright?”

“Yep! I’m fineee–you can’t understand me… right.” you answer her, your ‘fine’ slurring into ‘you,’ remembering your communication problems. You stick your hand outside your tent flap and give her a thumbs up. [S’all good]! {Persuasion = 13, Success}.

“Well, when you’re ready, would you help out with breakfast?

[Okay]. You pull your hand back inside and sigh, ‘I’m still gonna have to get used to hearing your voice in my head.’

« Of course. Might I suggest preparing some charaded excuses for why you’re so jumpy in the meantime? »

‘...You just wanna laugh at my own expense, don’t you.’

« Guilty as charged. » You feel fondness through your shared mental bond. « On another note, I should let you know that I won’t be able to be as constant a presence in your mind for a while. »

‘What? Why?’

« I siphoned most of my power towards contacting you, the rest now towards channeling into you to provide you with powers and abilities– which reminds me, since you’ve become a bit more acclimated to magic, I’ve deemed it safe enough to grant you with some new spells. » 

New information seeps into your brain– more powerful spells, though limited in their uses.

« Having a constant presence across planes drains a fair bit of what little energy I have left, and my reserves have now almost been depleted. I’ll still be watching over you, but I must preserve my strength for now. In the meantime, I shall be working on more translation spellcraft for you. »

You pout.

He huffs amusedly. « Don’t worry, I will be able to consistently speak with you like this again in due time. You’ll know when my powers have sufficiently recharged. »

‘Yeah, because you’ll pop into my head out of nowhere and scare the living shit out of me.’

He laughs– a genuine, full-bodied laugh. « Can you blame me when your reactions are so entertaining? »

Your pout depends, playfully this time instead of with sadness. ‘You sound like my friends when they convince me to play a horror game.’

« You will be alright, young one. Besides, you now have quite the company around you. Some ‘snacks,’ I believe you’d call them, if my updated lexicon is to be believed? »

You blush furiously. ‘Astaroth! You can’t just hit me with that out of nowhere! God, that’s so embarrassing,’ you bury your face in your hands.

He chuckles in mirth. « I jest, I jest. Though, truly, it would not hurt to gain the trust of some capable companions. »

‘I know, I know, but talking –well, interacting, since I can’t actually talk to them –with people is scary,’ you “say” as you lift your face from your palms.

« I know, my dear. I know. I must go now, but I promise that should you call for me, I will answer. »

‘Okay… see– or uh, talk to you later, then?’

Even though you can’t see him, you can still sense his warm smile. « Yes, I’ll talk to you later. »

His presence fades, the comforting warmth you’ve already gotten used to leaving along with him. The void left by him is instead filled with the feeling of the tadpole churning in your head, more prominent now than ever. Astaroth’s presence either overrided the tadpole’s, or he was actively preventing you from feeling it. It’s uncomfortable, like the barest beginnings of a headache that won’t go away, but you can deal with it. You’ve dealt with worse pains.

Yawning, you stretch out your sore limbs before crawling out of your tent. The only ones who seem to be awake, or are outside of their tents at the very least, are Tav, Lae’zel, and Astarion. 

“Good morning, (y/n)!” Tav smiles her customer service smile at you as soon as you leave your tent.

[Morning], you wave back with your own tired customer smile on your face. Your stomach growls loudly, clearly audible as Tav giggles a bit.

“Ah, the food is in the pack next to my tent. If you want to get started on breakfast, feel free! I’ll join you after I wake and check up on the others.” She walks off in the direction of Shadowheart’s tent.

You walk over to Tav’s tent, going straight for the pack sitting outside. ‘Let’s see what we’ve got.’ Kneeling down in front of the beige pack, you first pull out a very fragrant purple pouch; you would get a headache if you tried to distinguish all the different smells. ‘Okay, herb and spice pouch. I’ll look inside that later.’ You rifle through what little variety of provisions you have. ‘Cheese, bread, meat, more cheese, apples, mint? I think? Smells like it. I’ll move that to the herb bag. Mushrooms, carrots, alcohol, more bread, more apples… wow, we are really lacking variety. I guess I’ll look through the herbs and spices. Hopefully I’ll find something that’ll go well with something we have. I’m thinking rosemary could be good.

You move your attention back towards the smaller pouch and rifle through it. You pull out a stalk of something with spiky leaves. ‘Oh hey, I know this! It’s mugwort! I think? Or a mugwort look-alike? One way to find out.’ Staying true to the stereotypical tired mind who just woke up, you don’t think before acting. You pluck a leaf off the stem and place it on your tongue…and immediately remove it, sticking out your tongue in disgust and shaking your head. ‘Blegh, ew, yuck. Yep. That’s mugwort. Bitter and gross. Not using that. Maybe I’ll put it in some tea if I feel like dreaming.’

You hear a muffled snicker come from behind you. Turning around, you see Astarion, hand over his mouth, looking very amused. Ignoring him, you turn back to the spice bag and pull out the next thing. You pause. It’s a leafy plant with drooping purple flowers. You recognize this one –how could you not? 

“...Who the fuck put belladonna in the spice bag?!” You whisper to yourself, incredulously. ‘I can’t use any of this stuff! It could all be contaminated! Shit, I gotta go wash out my mouth,’ you stand and speed walk over to the water’s edge, trying not to draw too much attention.

You kneel at the edge and scoop up some water in your hands. You bring it to your lips and fill your mouth, swishing it around before spitting it out. You repeat this a few times for good measure, rubbing at your tongue to make sure there’s no trace of anything left over.

When you walk back over, you see Tav back at her tent, looking confused at the mugwort and belladonna you pulled out. You make your way over and poke Tav in the arm. She looks at you. You pick up the belladonna and gesture to it, [why in the nine hells was there poison in the spice bag]?

“Belladonna? Were you the one who… Please don’t tell me you were planning on cooking with that,” Tav’s tone went from confused to scared and concerned.

[What? No]! You look at her weird. ‘Why would I want to do that?’ You gesture between the dangerous plant and the spice bag. [I’m asking why it was in the spice bag].

“Yeah, it belongs in the alchemy pouch,” Tav states what she knows to be obvious. “Was it mixed in with the food?” She begins to look more frightened.

[No! No]. You shake your head. ‘Wait…Alchemy pouch?’ You look at her blankly, feeling like an idiot. “...Oh.”

You hear more laughter, louder this time. Astarion wasn’t even trying to hide it.

“I believe they thought there was food in the pouch,” Astarion inputs, slightly clearing up the confusion. “You should have seen their face when they put mugwort in their mouth.”

Tav looks at you in disbelief, “Why would you look for ingredients in the alchemy pouch?”

[I thought there were spices in there]! You rub your fingers together, as if sprinkling salt on something. {Performance = 4, Failure}.

“Gods, I really wish I could understand you; I really haven’t a clue what you’re trying to say.”

You sigh. ‘This is getting us nowhere. Let’s just say I’m stupid and call it a day.’ You tap at your skull then shake your head, [I wasn’t thinking because I’m an idiot]. {Performance = natural 1, critical failure}.

Tav suddenly becomes guarded. “Are you saying your mind and thoughts are fading? That the tadpole is already influencing you?”

At the mention of the tadpole, Lae’zel’s gaze halts her sword maintenance in favor of wielding it and turns to you with a glare.

You rapidly shake your head, [No! No, that’s not it either]! You flail around with your arms a bit, trying to figure out how to better explain. You give up. You groan and drag your hand down your face. You wave her off, [Just…forget it. Doesn’t matter anymore].

Tav’s stance relaxes, “Well, I’m glad to hear you aren’t transforming already.” She turns to rifle through the provisions pack. “Hmm, we don’t have much, do we? Guess we’ll have to settle for meat and cheese sandwiches.”

You and tav work on slicing the baguettes, cheeses, and meats, assembling a sandwich for each party member. Luckily, breakfast was uneventful after your embarrassing performance. The only bad part was that the bread was tough and the sandwich was just bland in general.

‘We need to buy some spices and seasonings, especially salt, as soon as we get the chance.’

Shortly after everything gets cleaned up, courtesy of Gale’s prestidigitation, everyone begins to pack up their tents and belongings, getting ready to head out. You feel like your eyes bulge out of your head as you see things that definitely should not all fit in their packs go in one by one. Are they all bags of holding? How big are they on the inside? Could you fit a coat rack in them? Like Mary Poppins? That would be fun. Then you’d just need an umbrella enchanted with featherfall. Or fly? Would that even be possible? Probably? Maybe? Did umbrellas even exist here? As in ones for rain, not parasols for sunlight. Umbrellas don’t really scream ‘high fantasy’ so who knows if they have them here.

“Everyone ready to head out?” Tav, the de facto leader, asks everyone. 

Nods and affirmations are shared among the group, all ready to leave the campsite. With no objections, Tav leads the group back the way you came from the day before, intent on continuing up the path near where Gale and Lae’zel were found.

“It’s quite unfortunate the tadpole has robbed us of our abilities,” Gale began, breaking the silence after a few minutes since leaving camp. He turned to you, “If it hadn’t, I’d have been able to cast ‘comprehend languages.’ Then we would be able to have a proper conversation together.”

[Yes, unfortunate indeed], you nodded. ‘Except not really because having an excuse to not talk to people is amazing.’

“I take it you’re from overseas, then?” Shadowheart asked, gesturing to your entirety.

You nod. [Sure, let’s go with that].

“Seeing as there’s not much else to do, so how about we continue our guessing game?” Tav suggested. “I don’t know much about lands outside of Faerûn, so I am quite curious about yours.” 

You internally groan. ‘I thought we could finally forget about that, because I can’t-slash-won’t tell any of you the truth.’ You look at Tav, blankly. [How? We already know charades aren’t gonna get us anywhere]. ‘Nevermind the fact that this is a different planet and gestures that are familiar to me can mean something entirely different to all of you.’

“Hmm…” Tav holds her chin in thought, “Since it’ll be hard to guess a specific name, we can try the cultural route, as in objects, gestures, customs and the like from your home. Based on those, one of us might be able to pinpoint where you’re from.”

[Be my guest]. ‘Good fucking luck guessing outer space, not like I was even gonna tell you that. Though, I don’t know anything about the overseas culture on Toril so oh fucking well. Guess I’ll do what I do best: bullshit my way through this. Maybe if I just confuse them they’ll drop it.’

You place your hands in front of you and mime typing on a keyboard. [Typing is an essential skill where I’m from].

“Piano?”

[Well, not what I was going for, but yes, we have pianos].

“Well, it seems our friend here is of some social importance afterall,” Astarion chimed in.

“Huh?” You tilt your head, a bit puzzled.

“Darling, everyone knows that only the rich can afford pianos.”

‘Oh shit this is like medieval time stuff. I forgot about that.’

“Oh!” Tav’s eyes light up like she just came to a realization. “Were you trying to say that you could play us something from your hometown?”

You go to refute but she doesn’t give you a chance

“You have your viol, yes? I’m sure you can use that instead of a piano.”

You deadpan. [I don’t know if you’re aware, but there’s a reason marching orchestra isn’t a thing. Also I’m clumsy and this terrain is very uneven and my music could alert any beings nearby that there’s a group of idiots dumb enough to give away their location wandering about. Also, if I was going to play a piano piece on my violin we’d be left without the entire bass section of the song, so it’ll sound sad and disappointing]. You had given up on accurately gesturing anything halfway through, settling for frustrated and exasperated hand movements. ‘Also no thanks, I hate giving solo performances in front of other people. I’m either in an orchestra or playing to myself alone in my room.’

It seems nobody understood you besides the fact that you really didn’t want to play for them.

Tav sighs, disappointed. “Fine, I’ll leave it be for now. Next time we make camp though, I’d really like to hear you play.”

You relax a bit at that. ‘Thank fuck. How the hell am I supposed to give a personal solo performance to a group of strangers I’m gonna be stuck with for who knows how long? I’ll tell you how: by not giving them one. Let’s see how long I can put it off until they completely forget about it.’

Not interested in having to converse anymore, you instead turn to admiring your surroundings. Despite the less than ideal situation you’re in, it's actually quite beautiful here. The embers from the crash have died down over the past day, the air now clear of smoke and smog. It’s refreshing. You’re not sure if you’ve ever smelled such clean air before. The flora around you is vibrant, sharing many characteristics with the greenery you’re familiar with on Earth. And then there’s the foreign fauna. Different colors and patterns, shapes and structures. 

‘It’s probably best to be cautious around these plants,’ you surmise. ‘Who knows which ones are dangerous, especially towards an alien human… Oh shit, am I gonna have to worry about illnesses and diseases? …Fuck it, whatever. They got magic and I have Astaroth so I’m sure it’ll be fine.’

Your group approaches some familiar scenery: it's the same area where you found Lae’zel suspended in a cage. Walking past it, you notice some stonework through the natural rock archway. The remains of some type of abandoned stone building lies past, and you can see more crumbling walls behind it, hinting at an even larger structure awaiting to be explored. 

You poke at Tav’s arm to get her attention, [Look, there’s some ruins over there].

“Hmm, interesting… I would like to check it out, but I doubt there’s a cure for the tadpoles in there. Probably best to avoid it for now, just in case.”

[Fair point].

Ignoring the ruins that your curiosity is just begging to explore, you all continue uphill, entering unexplored territory. Cresting above the top of the hill, the land flattens out, your muscles thankful for the reprieve from the uphill climbing. 

Tav halts in her tracks, all of you following suit. “I hear shouting up ahead.”

Not one to waste time, she quickly moves ahead, skirting around a large rock formation, not dissimilar to the small rocky outcrop you woke up on. She soon stops in her tracks, and as you round the edge of the formation, you see why: There are three humans standing in front of a vine-covered wooden wall built into the cliff face further ahead, shouting at a tiefling standing atop the cliff.

“Open the bloody gate!” One of the human men shouts.

“Nobody gets in. Zevlor’s orders,” the tiefling replies.

“That pack of goblins will be on us any second!”

Another tiefling, older than the other, judging by his looks, comes up next to the tiefling who shouted before, “What’s going on?”

The same human man continues to shout, getting angrier each time, “Goblins are on our tail. Open the gate, Zevlor. Now.”

“You led goblins here? Where is the Druid?”

“Please! There’s no time!”

You hear some commotion from your left and see a horde of short creatures, all with olive-green skin tones, accompanied by semi-hairless beasts. They looked almost like wolves but their faces were too… wrong. There was no distinction between the skull and the snout: It was all just one piece, rectangular in shape, almost like a bull terrier’s facial structure.

“By the Nine Hells,” the older Tiefling, Zevlor, if you heard correctly, exclaims as he sees the horde approach. “Open the gate!”

You watch the other tiefling that had first responded to the humans turn towards a contraption which had what seemed to be a ship’s wheel attached. He grabbed said wheel and began turning it, the gate, which you had just assumed to be a wall at first, started to lift from the ground. It doesn’t last long as an arrow from the creatures, goblins, flies through the air, striking the tiefling in the chest. As he falls to the ground, the gate begins to close as well.

“Kanon! No!” Zevlor cries out.

As the gate starts to fall shut, the three humans rush to grab it and keep it from closing, but it’s weight is too much, and they have no choice but to release it and watch it fall, leaving no space between it and the ground.

“Shit,” the angry human curses. “Form a line!”

The goblins rush forward to begin melee combat with the three humans. It doesn’t take long for Tav to rush forward, intent to enter the fray, the other tieflings upon the cliff also begin to ready their crossbows. A human man, not part of the three by the gate, jumps down from the cliff, landing in front of a goblin.

“Dambable roach. Provoke the blade–” he stabs the goblin through the chest with a rapier, killing it instantly, then practically flicks the now corpse off his blade “–and suffer its sting.”

Now in the throes of battle, the melee attackers in your party rush forward, following Tav’s lead. Lae’zel, the most enthusiastic, immediately swings her greatsword down on the nearest goblin as Tav runs forward to another one, delivering a series of staff strikes and unarmed blows to it. You lose sight of Astarion, but Shadowheart also moves forward, shield and healing spells at the ready. Gale stays back with you, preparing to fire spells himself.

You hold your hands out and summon your fiddle and bow, “Bamf!” They appear in your hands, and you immediately bring them to your shoulder and strings respectively. 

Stress.

So much stress.

This is your first battle where you’ll actually have to fight. 

No time to think, only do. 

So you cope the only way you know how to in high-stress situations: you make it a joke.

You whip out that song you learned years ago as a meme that will forever be ingrained into you in both regular and muscle memory. 

‘My friends would be so disappointed in me, if they could see me now, but I know they’d do the same thing. I miss those dumb fucks.’

D0, D0, A3, A0.

The years it has lived as a meme have, despite its intensity, altered your brain to find the song quite amusing.

Megalo-fucking-vania.

Along with the first note flew an eldritch blast from your instrument, hitting the goblin archer that had clambered up to the top of the rock formation next to you. {Attack Roll = 20, Critical Hit}, {Force Damage = 12}.

The goblin staggers back a few steps, looking quite hurt, but still standing. Their attention now on you, they ready their bow, aiming to fire at you. You keep playing, hoping for another eldritch blast to come out, but to no avail.

‘Fuck, fucK, fuCK FUCK– quick, gazelle maneuvers, go!’ 

You try your best to zigzag about, but it is much more difficult to do while playing an instrument. Just as you take a step to the left, the goblin releases the arrow, lodging itself into the ground behind you after grazing your leg, leaving a sizable gash. You hiss at the sting, but don’t stop playing. 

‘National Geographic, you fucking liars! This doesn’t help at all! I know I’m not a gazelle but I’m just as terrified as one right now!’

Your perseverance is rewarded when but a second later you feel the familiar gathering of energy as you fling another eldritch blast at the archer, though your forced spiccato, courtesy of your graceful movements, makes your notes come out a bit wonky. This one, perhaps due to your dodgy performance, goes high, arcing over the goblin’s head. {Attack Roll = 9, Miss}.

‘Shit.’

As the goblin reaches to ready another arrow, you skirt back around the outcrop, losing sight of the archer, hoping they’ll also lose sight of you. You don’t bother trying to hide, afterall, your music would immediately give away your location. You instead switch targets to another goblin in combat with the human who had jumped down. This time, when your attack goes off, it hits the far goblin and knocks them to the ground. They don’t get back up. {Attack Roll = 17, Hit}, {Force Damage = 8}. 

The man looks at you and gives a short nod of appreciation before setting his sights on another enemy to go after. An arrow shoots into the ground in front of you from above, the shock making your bowing stutter. You look up and see the goblin archer you were aiming at before now standing on the outcrop directly above you, eyes glaring into your own. You leap away and bow harshly, ignoring any mistakes you make. Now’s not the time to worry about intonation. This time, your attack hits them right between the eyes. They’re flung backwards and don’t reappear. Another dead. {Attack Roll = 15, Hit}, (Force Damage = 5}.

The battlefield is a cacophony of steel meeting steel, battle cries, screams of anguish, and your frantic melody.

“Guaaagh!” 

You jump and spin around when you hear a gurgling cry behind you. You aim the scroll of your violin towards them, but quickly halt your bow when you’re met with Astarion pulling a dagger out of the neck of a goblin that had snuck up behind you.

“Careful now,” he playfully chides. “I’d hate to see you lose that darling neck of yours so soon.”

You purse your lips, but don’t say or do anything. ‘Says the man who was planning on holding a knife to said neck when we first met.’ 

The sounds of the battle around you begin to die out, the fight finally over. Muttering a small poof under your breath once you made sure all the enemies were dead, you let your violin vanish back into whatever storage dimension it now called home. 

“That was the last of them,” you hear Zevlor from atop the cliff, reaffirming the fact that the battle was over. “Inside–all of you. More may follow. Open the gate!”

This time, the gate is able to fully open. The three humans who were yelling before, all dressed in matching green outfits, are quick to get inside, followed by the darker skinned man who had nodded at you during the fight. 

Thoroughly drained, you trail after Astarion and rejoin the rest of your party in front of the gate.

“Everyone all right?” Tav checks up on everyone, handing out healing potions to everyone in your group who needs one, yourself included.

Uncorking the bottle, you take a quick whiff. It’s a sweet smell, almost fruity, but not quite. You shrug and down it. That sweet aroma is also seen in its flavor, along with an earthy bitter undertone that lingered in your mouth afterwards.

Tav starts speaking to Shadowheart about something, but you don’t hear it, busy with your own thoughts.

‘Why the fuck did I play megalovania? Why am I such a disappointment?’

Still wallowing in your own shame and despair, Tav turns and heads into the fort, the rest of your group following her.

Gale falls into step beside you, “Are you all right? You’re looking quite a bit more dour than before. Are you not used to combat? If this is about your performance in the fight, I can assure you, you did quite well and pulled your own weight; no need to worry.”

His words don’t do much to reassure you.

“Oh, I also noticed that song you were playing. I don’t believe I’ve heard any melodies like that before; is it a style unique to your hometown?”

“…Is there a good place to kill myself around here?”

Gale squints and tilts his head, “pardon?”

You wave him off. [Nevermind, it’s nothing].

‘C’mon me, it’s okay. Nobody here knows. You don’t have to wallow in shame,’ you think to yourself before another thought pops into your head. ‘But, If I focus on my own shame I won’t have to unpack all these distressing emotions I got from my newly found trauma of committing murder! …Both options are pretty bad, aren’t they…’

“There are children here, you fool!” A very angry voice distracts you from your thoughts.

‘Oooh, drama~ Looks like I don’t need to worry about introspection anymore! If only I had some popcorn…’

“We was running for our lives.” 

Tav leads your entourage up to the heated argument happening between a tiefling you remember shouting from atop the gate and one of the humans who was stranded outside with all of you.

“You led them straight to us, and you let them take the druid, too. Unbelievable!” The tiefling continues to yell, paying your party no mind.

“One fight just ended, and now you’re picking another? Relax,” Tav tries to diffuse the argument.

‘Oh yeah, Tav was definitely in customer service. Looks like they also get de-escalation training here.’

“Tell that to the dead at the gate,” the tiefling responds to Tav, no longer yelling but just as upset.

“Shut it, horns,” the human leans forward, face slightly scrunched in a pseudo-snarl. “I’d be lying dead next to the goblins if you’d stalled any longer.”

“My duty is to this camp.”

“God forbid you risk your precious tail. But I shouldn’t be surprised. Foulbloods ain’t known for courage.”

You flinch away, taken aback. ‘Yo, I don’t have to be from here to recognize that was a slur. Uncloseted racists, huh…yeesh.’ 

You see the tiefling’s eyes narrow, expression going dark. He raises a fist and slugs him, hitting him directly in the temple. The human falls to the ground, unconscious.

‘Nice,’ You nod in approval at his actions. ‘Fuck racists. Or would it be specist? Speciecist? Ah, who cares. Same difference. Still, sad to know that it seems humans are much the same here as they are back home: Hating those who are different.’ 

The tiefling sighs and shakes out his fist. “Enough. The goblins have found us. No doubt, the beasts will be back. We need to pack up and leave. Immediately,” these words he spoke out, more so towards the other tieflings in the camp. He crosses his arms and gives the unconscious human another look of disdain. “Seems his skull isn’t as thick as I thought,” he says to himself.

“Now that’s settled,” he looks up, locking eyes with Tav, “I wouldn’t have looked to a drow for help, but I’m grateful all the same. I’m Zevlor.”

‘Aw, come on, man! You’ve got discrimination in you too? I know that in D&D lore, drows aren’t looked upon favorably, but I was hoping for better since nobody in our party seemed to mind.’

“I’m Tav,” she replies, unfazed. You feel a bit sad, thinking that maybe Tav has had no choice but to get used to it.`

“Well met. I should warn you– visitors are no longer welcome in this grove,” Zevlor cautions. “Whatever your business, I’d see to it quickly– the druids are forcing everyone out. This attack will only strengthen their resolve.”

“Why are they forcing you out?”

“There have been several attacks by different monsters. The druids blame us ‘outsiders’ for drawing them here. Nobody’s welcome anymore. They’ve started a ritual to cut the grove off from the world outside. We can’t stay, but we’ll be slaughtered if we leave- we’re no fighters.”

“So, what even brought you all here in the first place?”

“We’re refugees from Elturel– we took shelter here after gnolls attacked us on the road. We were bound for Baldur’s Gate, and it was too late to turn back. Elturel had no place for tieflings after the Descent.”

‘I have no idea what they’re talking about now.’

“Hmm, if your people survived that, they’ll survive anything.”

‘That? What’s that? This is starting to sound like it’s about to get dark, and I already have enough shit to worry about right now. I wanna know so bad because I’m too curious for my own good, but I know that I’ve got a raging guilt complex that’ll make me worry about them way too much if I find out what happened… Step away, (y/n), just step away. You’re in a land of monsters and magic, you can’t afford to worry about others.’ 

Steeling your resolve, you step away, the group not noticing your departure as you were already lingering towards the back. Behind you and to your right, you spot a comfortable-looking shaded area across a log bridge. Devoid of any people, it looks like the perfect place for you to take a break, because now that your adrenaline rush is over, you can feel the exhaustion setting in. You quietly walk over, your years of practice of silencing your footsteps coming in handy to stay out of anyone’s notice. The large lone tree that stood near the cliff’s edge looked quite inviting, something you could lean your back against.

You approach, fully ready to take a moment to rest and breathe. What you were not expecting was for a squirrel to lunge at you and bite at your toes. At least, it was biting at where it thought your toes were. Since your newly acquired boots were too big, your feet didn’t reach that far. You squeak and try to shake the creature off your foot while maintaining your balance. Thankfully, it quickly let go, so you took a step back, watching as it stanced up.

“Are even the squirrels out to kill me? Why are you like this, Faerûn?”

“I was so interested to see what our little bard-who’s-not-a-bard was up to, sneaking away like that, but I wasn’t expecting to see you in a fight with a squirrel of all things.”

You whip your head around to see Astarion. ‘I don’t think I like being the one who is getting snuck up on.’

“Oh, don’t mind me–I’d much rather see how this plays out, especially since it seems the squirrel is winning,” he crosses his arms, smirking at you.

You pout and deadpan. ‘I’m too tired to put up with this.’

“Oh, fine, fine– you’re no fun. There’s an apprentice healer in the grove and our fearless leader thinks we should go see them,” he says as he begins inspecting his nails. “Not that they’ll actually be able to do anything about these worms, but I suppose any information could be useful.” 

He turns around, a silent gesture to follow him. You do so, fully turning your back to the squirrel who thankfully doesn’t give chase. You find Tav and the rest waiting for your return, making you feel a bit bad for being the reason for the delay.

“There you are, (y/n),” Tav says with that same smile on her face, “Let’s all go meet that healer, shall we?”

You passed by a group of three tieflings arguing over whether they should leave or stay. Using her expert de-escalation skills, Tav said naught but one sentence to them: “To leave is a heavy choice– it will weigh on whatever path you walk next.” And just like that, they were convinced to stay and ceased arguing. You can’t help but wonder why she stepped in– was it perhaps just an automatic response, as if out of habit? ‘Well, doesn’t matter, I guess.’

A few meters ahead was a small training ground with children wielding swords against dummies made of wood and cloth. Instructing them was the man who had jumped down from the wall during the fight with the goblins. As he notices you all approaching, he gives the child he’s currently helping a bit of encouragement before turning to face Tav.

“Well met. The Blade of Frontiers at your–” his introduction is cut short as you’re connected to his tadpole, much like how it was when you met Astarion.

You see a wasteland, ravaged by countless battles, and then you see her: She’s tall and muscular–red skin, one curled horn, and lit ablaze, though the flames do not hurt her. Her black hair with streaks of red– whether they’re dyed or just an illusion from the fire, you can’t tell– are styled in a mohawk, her hair falling over the side of her head without any gel to hold it up. She turns to the side and you catch a glimpse of her face.

‘Hello, 911 emergency? There’s a handsome girl in my brain.’

And then it’s over. The connection is severed and the woman's visage is gone.

‘Wait, no, come back, I wasn’t done staring!’

“Hells’ great fires– you were on the ship,” he looked at you all in realization after the memory sharing ended.

“Yes– and we both carry parasites,” Tav replies, voice carrying a slight grim undertone.

“Mm, doomed to shed our skin and become iliithid, or so the stories go, but we haven’t sprouted any tentacles– not yet, anyway. Could just be good luck. I’m not so…”

He’s cut off again as the mind link resurfaces and you see her again. ‘Whoohoo! Pretty lady! She’s back!’ This time however, it’s not as pleasant as you feel the man’s emotions towards her: she’s evil incarnate. This connection is shorter than the last, and she’s gone once more. ‘Yep, that checks out… another villain who’s super hot– literally this time.’

“Shit,” he blurts out, “you saw her: advocatus diaboli.

‘...why did that translate into latin?’

“Her name is Karlach. An archdevil’s soldier I swore on my good eye to kill. I tracked her through the Hells to the mind flayer ship, but the damned illithids infected me before I could end her. She’s out there now, preying on the innocent. I don't kill her, she’ll leave behind nothing but a trail of corpses.”

“Well, we’re looking for a cure to this infection. I’d imagine you’d also be interested in getting cured, so I suggest we partner up,” Tav offers.

“Chk! A worthy ally, perhaps, but I’ll waste no time chasing devils while a tadpole feasts on our skulls,” Lae’zel inputs, unclear if she’s on board with the idea of him joining the party or not.

“I’ve seen your people in battle,” the man follows up. “I reckon you are no mere warrior, but a godsdamned army. I’d be a fool to let you turn your back. Pledge me your talents, and I’ll pledge you mine.”

Lae’zel responds with another “chk.”

“I’ll presume that’s githyanki for ‘yes.’ Now let’s move.”

“Shadowheart huffs amusedly, “The famous Blade of Frontiers, in the flesh. Clever, this hero act you’ve got going.”

“Hero, blade– names strangers gave me. My friends call me Wyll.”

“Excellent. If we ever become friends, I’ll know what to call you.”

You can feel your eyes open comically wide. ‘Holy shit, Shadowheart, that was brutal.’

“I’m Tav. These are Lae’zel, Shadowheart, (y/n), Gale, and Astarion.”

You nod your head in greeting.

“Pleasure to meet you all,” Wyll smiles. Unlike Tav, his smile is genuine.

‘Holy shit, a genuine nice person. First one of those I’ve met in a while.’

“I hope you don’t mind accompanying us to see the healer first,” Tav comments. “We are already here after all.”

“By all means,” Wyll acquiesces. “I’m also not too keen on the idea of becoming a mind flayer.”

The party is led down some stone steps, Tav and Wyll at the lead: Tav for being the de facto leader and Wyll for already knowing the layout of the grove. At the bottom of the stairs is a crowd of tieflings facing off against a few steadfast druids.

“Let my daughter go right now!” One of the tieflings yells. She’s enraged and worried to the point that she sounds as if she might begin to cry.

“She’s a thief, hellspawn, and you will wait for Kagha’s judgement. Now get back.” The druid is unyielding in her reply.

‘What is up with these people and being racist towards tieflings? Typical time period racism I guess?’

“Argh, let me through, mragreshem, or I’ll rip your damned throat out!” The same tiefling as before takes a few steps closer towards the druids.

One of said druids lets out a guttural roar as they shapeshift into a bear, effectively forcing the tieflings back.

‘...I completely forgot that it’s normal for people to shapeshift here… well, turning into a bear is definitely an effective intimidation tactic. I would take notes except for the fact that I’m not a shapeshifter.

With the tieflings no longer blocking the stairs, Tav steps down. The now-bear growls in attempts to discourage your approach.

“You! Step back,” the druid who was warning the tiefling before had now turned her attention to Tav. “We’ll not tolerate drow in here.”

Tav smiles that wide smile of concealed irritation. “We were told we could find a healer here. We’ll be brief, so please allow us through.”

“Keep back. Force my hand, and I’ll show you its claws.”

“A moment, Jeorna,” the last of the three druids speaks up, gesturing for Jeorna to lean down and listen as he whispers in her ear.

“What…? Why would she allow one of them? I… I suppose so, yes.” She leans back up and glares at Tav. “You– apparently Kagha wants to see you. Go ahead.” As Tav starts to walk past, Jeorna speaks again, “A word of warning.One wrong move and every single animal here will tear you apart.”

“I wouldn’t dream of doing you any wrong, don’t worry,” she replies, never losing her wide smile.

You follow Tav past the druids, looking at the strange sight of what was obviously a ritual going on in the center of the area: druids chanting and channeling their magic into a small statue on a pedestal. ‘ This feels very cultish… I don’t know if I want any part in this.’ You all walk towards a patterned stone wall, which automatically lowers as you approach. ‘Huh… how uncharacteristically modern of them.’

The first thing you notice as you enter is just how much cooler it is inside, pleasantly so at that. Cool and dark, but not humid: a perfect place to relax, especially if you can find a small nook to be alone in. The peace of this place is suddenly shattered by the cries of a terrified child.

“Please, I’m sorry!”

As you go down the stairs, you come across the sight of a woman and a man on either side of a frightened tiefling child. And on the stone table behind her is–

‘It’s a baby!’ A snake, a viper judging by its head's structure, slithers up behind the girl, silently threatening her. ‘Dangerous, yes, but gods do I want to pet it, but I know I can’t, oh, this is torture.’

“This is madness Kagha. She’s just a…” The man standing next to the child protests.

“A what, Rath? A thief? A poison? A  threat?” The woman,  Kagha, you presume, stands firm, unaffected by his words. “I will imprison the devil, and I will cast out every stranger.

“Thief? Poison? What’s this girl’s actual crime?” Tav steps forward and asks, warily eyeing the viper.

“Girl? You mean parasite,” Kagha spits out. “She eats our food, drinks our water, then steals our most holy idol in thanks!”

‘...I mean, it’s more of a competitive symbiotic relationship rather than a parasitic one, unless they need to idol to survive; if that’s the case, then yes it’d be parasitic, but seeing as they’re all still alive after the kid stole it, I doubt that’s the case.’

“Rath, lock her up,” Kagha commands. “She remains here until the rite is complete.” She leans down to eye level with the tiefling child, “And keep still, devil. Teela is restless.”

The snake hisses in response, baring its fangs.

‘Oh my god, Teela is such a cute name… I know, not the time, not the place, but come on, it’s a relatively tame venomous snake, who knows if I’ll ever get a chance to safely pet a venomous reptile other than now?’

“Come, Kagha,” Rath tries to dissuade her, “We took back the idol. Surely–”

“Do it,” she cuts him off, leaving no room for negotiation.

There’s a brief second of silence before Tav speaks again, “You’ve proven your authority. Now prove your mercy.”

Kagha looks at Tav, a thoughtful expression coating her features, considering Tav’s words. “Fair words.” She turns back to the tiefling, “Child, take to the others word of my grace.” She then glances back to Teela, “Ssifisv– Teela, to me.”

The snake obeys, slithering away from the child and towards Kagha. As soon as the snake is far enough away, the child makes a break for it, rushing past your party and out the door you had just entered. 

Shadowheart takes a step to the side as the child passes, then winces and looks at her hand. “Ngh… it hurts…” she mutters under her breath.

“Thank you , Kagha,” Rath says, thoroughly relieved. “Master Halsin would–”

“Halsin isn’t here. Keep his name off your tongue, lest Teela pierce it.”

Rath backs off, moving to sit down instead as Kagha approaches you all, her gaze fixed on Tav. “A deep elf in our grove, on this day. A sign, or rather, a gift.”

‘...I’m sorry, what?’ You were expecting a much harsher welcome from Kagha, considering the druid guard who was so hostile to Tav for being a drow.

“Who better to understand a watchful broodmother than a beloved child of Lolth?”

Tav’s eyes narrow in distaste, her smile faltering. “I have no love for the Queen of Spiders.”

“Indeed?” Kagha takes it in stride, not bothered by the fact she may have just severely offended Tav, if you believe your own observations. “But you do exhibit a talent for self-preservation. A viper bares her fangs defending her brood. Is it not her nature to strike at invaders?” Tav doesn’t give her a response. “No matter. I took back the Idol of Silvanus and the rite has resumed. We will seal the grove. Free from harm. Free of intruders.”

“This rite must be born of powerful magic.”

“The Rite of Thorns. It is the Treefather’s gift, that none come to harm. When we speak the final prayer, the Great Vine will sprout forth. The grove will be cloaked in bramble and thorn. No one enters, no one leaves. Sanctuary. None of this can happen while outlanders inject us. Silvanus demands that we choke them out.”

‘Um, I may not know much about druidcraft, but choking people out doesn’t sound very druid-y. Aren’t they supposed to be all “one with nature” and stuff?’

Tav just gives a nod to Kagha, whether it was one of agreement or just acknowledgement, well, that’s up to interpretation… you really hope it’s the latter.

With a small but satisfied grin, Kagha walks off to one of the inner chambers, Teela in tow. Your eyes watch Teela, a bit disappointed you didn’t get a chance to pet it.

Once she’s out of earshot, Gale can no longer hold back his distaste, “That woman has more venom in her heart than a snake in its fangs, but at least the child is sage. What is youth if not a time to be forgiven for one’s transgressions?”

Tav nods, “I’m glad we intervened.”

“Couldn’t agree more. The girl wasn’t innocent, but that doesn’t mean she was guilty.”

She then looks at Shadowheart, concerned– no doubt she also heard her hiss of pain earlier.

“I know that look– you’re wondering why I was in pain before. Let’s just clear the air about that now,” Shadowheart says with a sigh. “It’s just an old wound that hurts me from time to time. Nothing to be concerned about. It’s nothing to do with the tadpoles at least, in case your imagination is in danger of getting away from you. It’s just…something I have to live with. It always passes quickly though, so I can manage.” 

“All right. Just make sure to tell us if it’s bothering you too much,” Tav says, still mildly concerned. “Nothing good comes from ignoring pain for too long.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

With no one else besides Rath around to ask for directions to the healer, Tav approaches him.

“You did well to speak up for the girl,” Rath thanks as he notices your party approaching him. “Tht snake is fickle. A tragedy prevented.”

“That Kagha seems dangerous,” Tav comments.

‘Oh, thank goodness. Looks like I don’t need to worry about her agreeing with what Kagha said.’

“Well seen. Well spotted. We’ve let a snake replace our leader.”

“Kagha seems happy to rule the roast. Your real leader is Halsin, I’m guessing?”

“Aye. Perhaps goblin-caught, perhaps dead now. He’d set… Mistress Kagha back in line,” his face scrunches in disdain when he used Kagha’s new title. “Hold her to task. Stop this damned ritual. More will die if the rite is finished. So many more, sent into a world gone mad…” He ends with a solemn tone and expression.

“If no one’s looking for Halsin, I could do it,” Tav offers.

‘Wait, what? I mean, yeah that’s probably what I would have done, but can’t you, oh, I don’t know, ask for our input first since your “I” definitely means “we”?’

“Would you? I would give anything to see Halsin return  home.”

“No need to fret. I’ll find him.”

“Silvanus’ blessings upon you, and my gratitude as well. Halsin is an elf with the presence of a bear. He left west, with the adventurers. You won’t mistake the First Druid for anyone else.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. In the meantime, I heard there was a healer here, Nettie, I believe. Could we meet her?”

“Ah, I see. You will find her deeper in the caves,” Rath points towards a nearby stone archway.

“Thank you,” she says, receiving a nod in response from Rath.

The archway gives way to a round chamber, where you can see a dwarf fussing over an injured bluejay. Tav walks up and pauses in front of the dwarf.

“I see you. Just give me a moment,” the dwarven woman says. Tav remains silent, waiting. “Vis medicatrix…” The dwarf chants, white strands of magic leaving her hands and surrounding the bird, which stands up. “There. It’s up to her now. Life or death. Now, what–” she cuts herself off as she sees Tav for the first time. “Drow. Last time I saw one of you folk, he tried to slit me open. I hope you’re more agreeable.”

“Where did you see another drow?” Tav asks, curious.

“That’s neither here nor there,” she brushes off the question. “Look, you obviously want something. What is it?”

“Healing. Looks like I came to the right person.”

“I do what I can. For most folks, that’s enough. Come here. Let’s have a look at you.” Tav leans down so that she’s eye-level with who you presume to be Nettie. “You seem healthy enough. A bit tired ‘round the eyes, maybe.

“More than tired. Something crawled into my eye.”

“Crawled in? Some sort of bug or–wait…” she takes a step back. “Did it look like a tadpole? But from your worst nightmare? All slime, teeth, and tentacles?”

“You know of them? Can you help me?”

“I–I’ll do what I can. Follow me. I might be able to help.” She turns around, gesturing for your party to follow. “We need to be quick. This way.”

She leads you to another stone door, which you did not realize was such until it too lowered like the one at the entrance. This chamber is smaller, with statues of wolves decorated with glowing blue markings. There are two stone tables to the left: one holds candles and what looks to be medicinal plants and substances, and the other is being used as a final resting place for a dead drow.

“Don’t worry about him on the table. I’m not in the habit of killing drow,��� Nettie explains. “He attacked Master Halsin and I in the woods, leading a pack of goblins. Tadpole crawled out of his head soon after.”

“He and I have the same kind of parasite?” Tav asks, seemingly unbothered by her dead kin.

“Seems so. Gave Master Halsin a right start. It’s why he joined the adventurers on their expedition. To find out what was happening. A pity you got me instead of him. He understands these things– studied them. Still, we have two options.” She pulls out a thorny stick, holding it in her hand. Her arm is lax but her grip is tight.

“What’s that plant? Will it help?”

Nettie shifts her weight. “It might, but first things first. Tell me about your symptoms– have you noticed anything strange happening?” 

Tav’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “It ‘might’? What aren’t you telling me?”

“I’m telling you everything you need to know. Believe me on that.”

‘“Everything we need to know,” huh? That’s a red flag if I’ve ever heard one.’ You glance around you, making sure there’s nobody hiding nearby and that the stone door is still open. You go to lean against the wall, trying to stay casual. You don’t trust this, and having your back facing an open doorway is a bad idea.

“I want to help you,” Nettie continues, “but I can’t unless you work with me. So, has anything unusual happened to you?”

“I can merge my mind with anyone else that’s infected,” Tav says, ending on a downwards intonation, implying that that’s all, not about to offer up any other information.

“Victims can identify each other? Not that the others know they’re victims, of course. How’d you pick up the parasite? Halsin was desperate to find where all this was happening.”

“Look, are you going to cure me or not?”

“I’m trying to help you, but I need to be sure. So tell me, where'd you get that thing?”

“I don’t know, I just woke up with it.”

“All right. I suppose that makes things easier. Give me your arm, please.”

Tav hesitates, then slowly holds out her arm. Nettie grabs Tav’s arm and quickly pierces her with the stick’s thorns.

“There. Be careful. Your legs’ll probably give out first.”

With narrowed eyes, Tav reaches to grab the branch from her, but Nettie steps out of her immediate reach.

“It’s too late. It’s already in your system. I’m truly, truly sorry. For what it’s worth, the poison is painless. It’ll be like going to sleep.”

“You poisoned me huh? Heh, should’ve known…” Tav scoffed, not sounding all too surprised.

“Please, try to relax. This doesn’t have to be hard.”

“Is there an antidote?”

“You can’t have it. I can’t risk you turning– you’d kill us all.”

“Give. Me. The. Antidote.”

“I won’t. I can’t.”

“But I don’t have symptoms– I’m not changing.”

Nettie fidgets, her face squinched in reluctance. A few seconds of what you assume is a mental debate later, she relents. “Gods above. It’s a risk, but maybe you deserve a chance…” She sighs, “All right. Master Halsin did say the drow’s tadpole was dormant. Maybe yours is too.” She places the branch down and instead pulls out a bottle filled with a radioactive-green liquid. “Now, this is a vial of wyvern poison. It’s quick and painless. Swear to me you’ll swallow it if you feel any symptoms.”

“All right. Hand it over.”

“Swear it.”

“I swear.”

“I hope it doesn’t come to that but… thank you. Here,” she hands Tav the poison. “And here’s the antidote. Do not mix those two up.” Tav takes it and pops the cork off, wasting no time before she starts drinking. “I’ve spent my life treating folk and never once saw a mind flayer infection. Then suddenly there’s dozens of you– maybe more. Master Halsin and I were tracking them, studying them, trying to figure out what the hells was going on, because you should all be changing; there should be a small army of mind flayers out there! But you’re not. Weird powers aside, you seem perfectly normal.”

Tav wipes her mouth with her arm once she finishes off the antidote. “Cure aside, you must’ve learned something from studying them, at least.”

“For one, that thing in your head is like nothing we’ve ever seen from mind flayers. It’s one of their worms, for sure, but this one gives you powers– telepathic connections– and it doesn’t turn you into one of them. Not yet, anyhow.”

“You said you were tracking other victims. Did they change?”

“Hard to say, but there’s a lot we don’t know. Infected– folks like you– have been converging on an old temple of Selûne, and I’ve no idea why. When Master Halsin heard the adventurers were heading that way, he saw a chance to get answers. Joined on the spot. Whatever he found there, he didn’t  make it back.”

“You think he’s still alive?

“I think so. I hope so. I’ve sent birds to find him, but they can’t get close without goblins trying to shoot them down. You though? You’re one of them–technically speaking I mean; they won’t kill someone carrying their parasite. If you can find Halsin and get him out of there, we can discover what he learned, and perhaps he can save your life. How’s that sound?”

“You’re sure he can cure me?”

“I can’t make any promises. This is like nothing we’ve seen before, but I know this for sure: master Halsin is the only one close to understanding these things. He’s your best bet to survive. Otherwise, that vial’s your only option.”

“All right, I’ll find Halsin.”

“Thank you. It would mean everything to the grove. To me. I wish I could tell you what happened out there, but those adventurers were the only witnesses, and they’re long gone. All I can say for sure is they all went to the old temple of Selûne and Master Halsin didn’t make it back. Good luck out there, and if things start to go bad, remember the vial. Remember your oath.” With that, Nettie leaves the room, going back to tending to the now-healed bird.

“I can’t believe she poisoned you, tried to put you down like a dying dog without as much as a whisper of consent!” Gale exclaims after the stone door rises shut behind Nettie.

“It was one hell of a surprise, but Nettie came around.”

“Yes– against her will, without rhyme or reason! How dare she snuff out life with as much thought as snuffing out a bloody candle?”

You look at Gale, concerned. You might not have known him for long, but you’d have never expected just how livid he sounded. 

“Are you all right, Gale?” Tav asked him. Looks like she feels the same way as you.

“Yes…Yes, I am,” he tries to calm himself down, and it works for the most part, but you can still hear that underlying anger when he continues, “It’s just that– had it been me…had it been…” He trails off, and you can see a faint trace of fear in his eyes that vanishes as quickly as it appeared. “But you handled it, and you handled it well! As for myself, I could quite do with a tumbler full of Waterdeep Whiskey. Anyway, we live. For the moment. How about we go find that chap Halsin little miss Poison Ivy mentioned? With a bit of luck, he has the means to offer us a cure rather than a coffin.” And just like that, he’s back to his upbeat self. 

‘I know trauma when I see it, and that man definitely has trauma.’

“Chk, I knew this would lead to nowhere,” Lae’zel speaks up, fed up. “The only to cure is to have the tadpoles removed by my people. We must find this ‘Zorru’ those ‘teef-lings’ spoke of and get answers.”

You quickly cover your mouth and stifled yourself after you realized you let out an involuntary chuckle at hearing Lae’zel say ‘teef-ling.’ You see Lae’zel cross her arms and roll her eyes after Tav corrects her mispronunciation.

“They saw one of my people. That means a crèche is nearby.”

“How about we split up?” Tav offers. “Three groups: one to find Zorru, one to ask around for information on Karlach, and the last for any other information on the area.”

Nobody felt any need to object so you sorted yourselves into groups: Lae’zel’s group, consisting of her and Tav, Wyll’s group consisting of him and Shadowheart, and your group of you, Astarion, and Gale. Tav would have the best chance of convincing Lae’zel if something went wrong, Shadowheart would be able to be more harsh when Wyll could not, and Gale and Astarion would probably have the best chance at communicating with you at the moment, so the groups were decided on those premises. Also because Gale is less likely to rub people the wrong way than Astarion. 

‘I’ve only known this man for one day and I can already tell he’s a bastard, in a likable sense,’ you think to yourself, grateful that you won’t have to manage Astarion by yourself, since you’re essentially mute. 

The groups split off after you get back to the surface, out in the sun. Your group stays behind in this area of the grove while the other two groups head back towards the tiefling camp.

“Ugh, this is going to be so boring,” Astarion whines.

You mime patting him on the back, not wanting to touch without permission. [There, there, I’m sure it won’t be all that bad].

“Hmm, perhaps it’ll be more entertaining if you do the talking,” he smirks at you. “Yes, I’d say that sounds quite amusing.”

“Wow, very funny– come up with that idea yourself? “ you deadpan. Hopefully they’ll at least understand your unamused tone. “Sure, let’s have the basically mute one do the conversing when we have to others perfectly capable of speech; I’m sure that’ll go perfectly.”

“I think I’m with them on this one, Astarion, assuming they’re saying that we should probably do the talking,” Gale says, looking to you for confirmation, smiling when you nod at him.

“Neither of you are any fun at all,” Astarion pouts.

‘Sorry man, but my social anxiety is back now that the adrenaline is gone, so I’m back to being way too scared of people.’ [Oh well].

“Fine, fine. I guess we’ll just have to be boring for now.”

“Wonderful. Let’s get started, shall we?” Gale says, looking around for someone who isn’t busy chanting.

There were really only three or so druids who were free, so you all started with them. Unfortunately, none of them had much to say besides their distaste for either outsiders or the ritual underway. Your next target was a rather eccentric man dressed in blue and talking with a bear. Normally, this wouldn’t be so odd in a druid grove, except for the fact that he looked extremely out of place.

“Oh! Why hello,” the boisterous man clad in blue exclaimed as soon as Gale walked up, not giving Gale a chance to even greet him. “You were the ones with the drow, weren’t you? I must say, I was quite surprised when I first saw them here, of all places. It’s rare to come across one of them above ground, you know. Rare and intriguing on a day already packed with intrigue!”

Gale opened his mouth to speak but the man kept talking, leaving no room for interruption. “You were at the gates just now, no? When the goblins came? You saw them up close? A few questions, if you please. There’s no overstating my interest.” 

“Would you answer some of ours in return?” Gale extends an offer.

“But of course! Now, then: How would you describe that particular batch of goblins? Size? Nature? Distinguishing qualities?”

You start to check out of the conversation as Gale begins to give an exact and detailed description of the goblins. ‘Not really much for me to do here.’ Out of habit, you reach for your phone, but catch yourself before you bring it out. ‘Ah. Right. I can’t do that here.’

“I do believe it’s our turn to ask some questions of you now, yes?” Gale asks, his answering time finished.

“Go right ahead,” Volo says, tucking away his journal and quill.

“I was hoping you could tell us a bit about the area, what to expect, places of interest, unusual occurrences, and the like.”

“Of course there’s that ship that just crashed, but I doubt you need me to tell you about that; it was practically impossible to miss. There’s also some old ruins south of here– I’m almost positive I heard a bit of a commotion coming from it when I passed by. I’m afraid I’ve not seen much else besides that. Now if you’ll excuse me, I really must be on my way to the goblin camp. Until we meet again!” And just like that he left, not allowing any follow up questions to be asked.

“Well, he was certainly a character,” Astarion mutters. 

You find yourself absentmindedly nodding in agreement– music. You freeze. You can faintly hear some singing and the plucking of a stringed instrument. Your head snaps to the side towards the direction it's coming from.

“(Y/n)? Is something the matter?” Gale looks at you with a mix of intrigue and concern.

You point in the direction of the music and hum the melody you’ve heard repeat a few times.

Astarion grumbles, “We are not going over there. That singing is downright awful.”

You shrug. [Up to you guys]. ‘Not like I’ll ever suggest we talk to people; my anxiety isn’t called a disorder for nothing.’

“Oh, I’m sure you’re just exaggerating,” Gale says. “The more information we have, the better, so why not at least ask?”

You follow behind Gale as he begins to head in the direction you pointed to. Astarion huffs in annoyance, but ultimately doesn’t stray from the group; he still pouts the entire way, though. Soon, you’re close enough to actually clearly make out the singing of a woman. Her singing is… admittedly not the best to your ears, but definitely not as awful as Astarion was making it out to be. Who knows, maybe it’s a stylistic thing that you’re just not used to since you’re an alien. For all you know, she could be an expert singer and that’s just how it’s supposed to sound. Plus, considering your taste in music sometimes, you’re really not in a place to judge others.

“Dance upon the stars tonight. Smile and pain will fade away. Words of mine will change–no. Become–ugh.” A blue-purple tiefling– it was hard to tell exactly what color her skin was in the spotty shade she sat beneath– was singing alongside her lute on top of a small rocky hill overlooking the grove, performing for a couple of critters. Her singing was warbly at points, as if she were trying to hold back tears.

‘Is she trying to come up with lyrics after she made the melody? No wonder it sounds like she’s struggling.’

“Change? No. Damn it!”

“Are you all right?” Gale asked her as your group of three strode up to her, understandably worried as she both looked and sounded frustrated enough to throw her lute to the ground.

“No. I’m moments away from a grisly death…at the hands of this bloody song. I can’t… nothing fits, you know?”

“Well, luckily for you, we happen to have a bard in our party. Perhaps they’ll be able to be of some help?” Gale nods towards you.

“Oh, yes, I’m sure our bard would love to help,” Astarion gives you a smirk, knowing fully well that you are, in fact, not a bard.

Your eyes dart between the two of them who oh-so-kindly just threw you under the bus. ‘...You fucking assholes.’ [Fuck you guys].

“Hm. It can’t hurt. I have her… I have an extra lute, if you want?”

You make no move to help, but Astarion oh-so-kindly nudges (Read: pushes) you forward. You give him a glare over your shoulder, to which he only smiles smugly at, his face reminding you of a satisfied cat who just pushed something off of a ledge.

She holds out the lute for you to grab, “I’m Alfira.”

“(y/n).” You awkwardly pick up the lute and hold it like a guitar. ‘I don’t know how to play the lute.’ You look over the lute you were handed. ‘Four strings, early medieval-style, huh? I wonder if–’ You pluck each open string. “G-D-A-G? Well, I suppose it’s close enough to a violin, even if some of the strings are an octave off. Guess I can shoddily transpose.’

Taking your little note test as you ready to begin, Alfira brings her own lute into ready position, “I’ll start from the beginning. We’ll take it slow.”

Dance upon the stars tonight. 

Smile and pain will fade away. 

‘Abwpfft–ah shit we’re already goin’! Well, I don’t know chords so you’re gettin’ some pizzicato!’ 

You start plucking at the strings, sticking to open notes since you don’t know how fretboards are set up for lutes. Despite your anxiety, you pluck them confidently, because if you don’t play with confidence, it’ll sound like shit no matter what.*

Alfira smiles, encouraged by your playing. She continues.

Word of mine will turn to ash. 

When you call the last light down. 

‘Why am I the only one playing? Why aren’t you playing your lute with me?!’ You continue to play, though Alfira just holds her lute while she sings, not bothering to play it. ‘I can’t just play the same four notes forever! I was planning on watching where you placed your fingers so I can mimic it but nooooo you only want to sing. Well don’t blame me if this doesn’t work,’ you place your fingers down onto the second fret of the A string and thank god it was in key.’

Moon reminds me of your grace. 

All the love I can’t repay. 

Rest and know that I will pray. 

Farewell, my dear old friend.

As Alfira trails off, so does your playing. ‘I’m free! Finally!’

Alfira places her lute to the side as she starts to cry. “Sorry.”

You see Gale begin to fret with a slight panic as she starts to cry. You flash him a grin with a hint of smugness. ‘You gotta do damage control now because I can’t talk. Serves you right for throwing me under the bus.’

“Don’t worry. Cry as much as you need,” Gale placates her, giving no sign of having noticed your self-satisfied expression.

“Heh. She’d have said the same thing,” she sniffled, wiping the tears from her eyes. “That’s the first time I’ve played since Lihala died. My teacher. She was playing her lute. We…didn’t hear the gnolls coming. There was so much blood. I–I can still smell it.”

“Well, you’ve come up with a fine tribute to her.”

“Lihala said that’s why eulogies were important. They were for the living as well as the dead. I’d forgotten what it was like: that itch to perfect a song. Keep the lute. Please. You’ve earned it. The Weeping Dawn will be my gift to Lihala. I’ve a long way to go, but thank you. I…I needed this.”

‘...Guess I’ve got a lute now… where am I supposed to put this?’

“If you don’t mind my asking, where did your group run into the gnolls?” Gale asks.

“Northeast of here. If you’re going that way, be careful,” Alfira warns.

Gale thanked her for the information and turned around, nodding at Astarion to follow him back towards the way we came, leaving Alfira to her own devices.

‘I feel like we watched her go through the five stages of grief all within the span of five minutes.’

“See? Now we know there are gnolls about,” Gale says, looking satisfied that we got useful information despite Astarion’s initial reluctance to approach Alfira.

Astarion crosses his arms and looks to the side, away from Gale. “Fine, I suppose this wasn’t too useless of an endeavor.”

“And, our bard received a gift as well!” Gale looks at you with a smile.

Your face remains cold as you place your fingers at the sixth fret of the first G, the fifth fret of the D string, and fifth fret of the A string, but leave the last string open: C#-G-C#-G. You lift your right hand and strike down across all the strings. Astarion and Gale both cringe at the awful tritone you chord you made.

“Good gods, what is wrong with you?” Astarion asks incredulously, covering his ears.

You cross your arms as best you can while holding the lute and puff out your cheeks. [You made me do an impromptu duet! With an instrument I don’t even know how to play!] {Performance = 11, Success}

‘That was an awful experience, forcing me to do a public performance! The two of them deserve to be at the mercy of the diabolus in musica at the very least.’

“My apologies,” Gale sheepishly apologizes, “all the bards I’ve ever come across usually jump at the chance to perform, so I assumed you’d be the same.”

[No, I hate public performances.]{Performance = 15, Success} [Also, not a bard.] {Performance = 7, Failure}

Gale scratches his head in confusion, “Forgive me for being confused, but why go down the path of a bard if you don’t enjoy performing?”

You throw your head back with a dramatic groan. ‘How many more times am I going to have to explain this?’ Bringing your head back down, you take a breath to calm yourself before trying again. [I am not a bard.] {Performance = 5, Failure}

Gale just looks at you in confusion, not understanding.

You turn to Astarion with wide, urging eyes and jerk your head towards Gale. [Can you just tell him? I’m sick of this game.] {Persuasion = 9, Success}

“Well, it was starting to lose its amusement, so, all right,” Astarion accepts and explains to Gale, “We had a little conversation yesterday and, turns out, they’re not a bard.”

“Truly?” Gale looks at you, intrigued. “But you use an instrument as an arcane focus, do you not?”

[Well, yes, but… I don’t know. Not a bard, though. Remember that.]

“Hmm, that’s quite interesting, isn’t it? Would you mind if I asked some questions? I’m very curious,” Gale looks at you with intrigue sparkling in his eyes.

[Um, maybe later.] ‘Really don’t want to discuss it though. I need to keep Astaroth a secret.’

“Perhaps we’ll have a chance when we next make camp.”

[Yeah, sure, sounds great.] ‘Please forget by the time we set up camp.'

“There doesn’t seem to be many other people to talk to, so shall we meet up with the others and see if they’ve had any luck?”

You didn’t have any reason to object and Astarion seemed glad to get as far away from Alfira’s music as possible, readily agreeing. And so, your group of three started heading back towards the stairs leading up into the tiefling camp half of the grove.

‘…Okay, for real though, where am I gonna put this lute?’

*Best advice I’ve ever gotten from my conductor. Play with confidence. Even if you’re not, play as if you are. Someone who’s playing confidently but hitting the wrong notes will always sound better than somebody who is hitting all the correct notes but playing meekly. 

Whether it’s true confidence or false bravado, it doesn’t matter. The end result will almost always be better if you embody it. Same thing goes for art. Strong confident lines tend to look better, especially for line art.

Fun fact, when I first started writing this chapter all the way back in…*checks notes*...January… the name of this chapter was “Is this foreshadowing or a red herring?” but now, 7 months later, I cannot remember why.

Next Chapter >

[hard-boiled-criminal]

Masterlist

Active Works are before the cut

Social Anxiety Really Ruins the Isekai Experience (Previously known as: Brimstone from the Throat) (Astarion x reader) (maybe Karlach x reader)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

A Witch Adrift (twst x reader) (mainly Idia and Malleus, possibly more)

Chapter 1 Chapter 7.5

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Venus Ambassador (Loki x reader) (Hiatus)

Prologue

Chapter 1

Old fic, New version: A Witch Adrift - Planetary Magick (twisted wonderland x witch reader)

Essential Gen Info

All gen info

Chapter 1, Chapter 2,