#kansas gale | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

alliskit · 27 days ago

Text

The Grand Design.

On AO3.

CH. 2: Horror Movies Aren't Scary When You're Living In A Nightmare.

- Gale really does try; thank you Gale for always trying - Alligators - Everyone loves a cowboy shootout - Nobody loves a weak link (with a kid in tow)

I was a pool of liquid, weeping, as I stared up at Sylas' precious worried face, smoke rising behind him. We were still on the staircase surrounded by a devastated Nautiloid. Everything was broken apart and on fire. But we were alive.

He was alive.

A bruise painted his cheekbone, probably from when we hit the stairs or during the actual crash that caused me to pass out. But, he seemed fine otherwise.

"How did..." my voice came out clogged and scratchy.

"The alien guy put us in a purple bubble and protected us," he finished.

"Is the alien guy..."

Sylas shook his head. His eyes went distant, probably remembering something horrific I had been unconscious for. I sat up and pulled him to my chest, "We're alive, that's what matters."

I felt him nod in agreement, even if it seemed like hollow acceptance. Looking around, it was pure carnage. Bodies of a few aliens and several, what looked like humans, were strewn about. We needed to get out and see if we could find some help. "Come on, love, let's get out of here."

We stood up, making a move to climb down the remaining stairs. "And go home?" he asked.

Considering I hadn't heard an update on our location since the alien mentioned Toril, the chance of going home was a long shot, but that wasn't something I wanted to tell my six-year old who was on the verge of a breakdown. So, instead, I said, "Let's try to get home, okay?"

He put his hand in mine as we stepped carefully through the wreckage. It was a miracle we were alive. Besides my distaste for being abducted, the tentacled aliens had been kinder than expected. I fully anticipated being an experiment and, surely was about to be, but part of me thanked the small kindness they exhibited to keep us alive. It was something they didn't have to do.

"Mom, look!" My heart jumped a little. The last time he said those words, we were taken. "Footprints," he added. I thought of the three who had taken control of the ship. Maybe one of them lived, maybe they all did. Hope lit like a small spark over old coals.

"Let's follow and see if it leads somewhere we can get help." I pushed a little between his shoulders moving him forward as we followed the footprints in the sand. Sadly, the sand quickly began to pack into harder ground, erasing the prints at the top of the small hill.

"Whoa, what's that?" Sylas asked pointing.

As we stared at the swirling vortex in a rock, I realized I would be answering that question a lot.

"I'm not sure, bud, but stay back here. I just want to make sure it's safe." To be completely honest, it was pure curiosity, not protection, that drew me to check it. I jumped back as a hand shot out waving from the void.

"Is that a hand?" my son asked from several feet away.

"Yeah, I think it is," I replied watching it wiggle back and forth.

A voice called out of the hole in a language I didn't know. "What did he say?" Sylas called.

I looked back at him, "How do you know it's a he?"

He shrugged, "Sounded like it? I dunno. Maybe a lady with a deep voice?"

"Guess we're about to find out." I turned placing a foot on the rock near the swirling and gripped the hand, pulling back hard. I didn't anticipate the feeling of being sucked forward and ended up twisting harder than I realized in response. The new person and I flailed as they landed on top of me, hitting the packed ground with a grunt. Sylas had been right about them being a man. We awkwardly rolled off one another, the stranger's face reddening in embarrassment and mine with effort.

He talked with his hands, saying something I assumed was his translation of "I'm so sorry". I waved him off kindly, signalling it was alright.

He asked me a direct question. I stared at him trying to consider what to do. Sylas beat me to it. "What is he saying, Mommy?"

I turned my attention to my son, "I can't understand him, we don't speak the same language. I'm not sure what to do now."

Sylas shrugged again and stared, concerned, at the new man.

I looked back at our new companion dressed in a weathered, and now dirt stained, purple robe with shoulder length brown hair pulled back and a five o'clock shadow gracing his face. He was what I would consider conventionally attractive. He had a tattoo creeping out of his chest over his collarbones and up his neck on the same side as a silver earring. If he had two, he was now missing the other. He watched me and Sylas with compassion and empathy and held up a finger to signal to wait.

Sylas gasped in delight as the man spoke, moving his hands in a practiced motion, weaving around purple light into different shapes. He walked over to me and spoke again as he touched me lightly on the shoulder. He smiled and nodded, then held out his hand, saying, what I can only assume was his name and possibly hello. But, it was still in his own language. I watched him in confusion and he looked confused back, then looked down at his hand, concerned.

He did the spell again quicker, then touched his chest. He pointed at me then at his mouth, saying something else.

"I think he wants you to say your name," Sylas added.

I raised a brow at him, "I got that, but thank you."

"And I got that," the stranger added.

I flicked my head to him, "How..."

"A spell of tongues to do the trick," he smiled.

Sylas stepped up to my side, "Did you just do magic?"

His kind smile spread into pure enthusiasm. "Ah, a quick young man, I see. Yes, it was indeed magic. Have you no mages where you're from?"

Sylas shook his head. "No, only clowns and they aren't real. They're just dress up."

"Many a clown is simply dressed as a man," the stranger quipped.

The six-year old stared blankly up at the man.

"A little over your head then," He turned to me as I licked the inside of my cheek trying not to laugh. The man had some jokes. "I'm Gale of Waterdeep."

I pointed at myself, "Abigail of..." There was a very slim chance this complete stranger from another planet, possibly another dimension, knew of Earth.

He smiled politely, "It's alright, you don't have to say. Unless, you can't remember?"

"We live in Washington," Sylas interjected.

Gale squatted down and held out his hand, "Gale of Waterdeep, to whom do I have the pleasure of thanking for my grand rescue?"

Sylas held out his hand to shake Gale's, "My name is Sylas Andrews. Why are you wearing a dress?"

Gale flinched as he shook my son's hand, but recovered quickly. Then looked down at his robe, feigning shock. "Why it's no dress, but a great wizards' robe!"

"Whatever you say," Sylas teased.

"I'm so sorry," I added quickly.

Gale shook his head, "It's quite alright, I assure you. Children are notoriously cheeky."

"Do you have children, Gale?" he had been so quick to entertain Sylas. It was easy to guess the man either had children or was an attentive uncle.

He rubbed the back of his neck, awkwardly. "I am flattered you think me so well adjusted to children. Alas, I have none of my own."

I nodded, absently. The conversation started to die between us.

I watched as he quietly took me in completely for the first time. I was clad in a dirty t-shirt and jeans, with hiking boots and my gun safely holstered at my waist. Sylas was in a t-shirt as well as cargo shorts and boots (Leave the description or trash it? Necessary or need a Faerun equivalent? Add to the list of things to invent here - I will make millions). A flash of concern and confusion was followed by a kind grin as he pointed at me, "You were on the Nautiloid as well, I take it."

"The space ship was super weird. And the aliens were so ugly, but they were nice," Sylas interrupted.

Gale's brow rose, "We clearly had differing experiences," then he looked back to me, "We're you on the receiving end of an unwelcome insertion?"

I laughed oddly thinking about the grubby worm that chewed through the other abductee's eye, then shook my head, "I got lucky. They did try, though."

Gale's brows bunched in apparent confusion and wonder. "How, might I ask did you avoid that?"

I pursed my lips as I signaled with my eyes to my son.

"A long story, one for another time, I presume," he added slyly.

I nodded, looking down at a suspicious Sylas, "A very long and boring story."

Gale gave me a mischievous grin, winking in understanding. "Well, first, thank you for pulling me out of that stone. Hopefully, I will have ample opportunities to return the favor."

"You're the first human I've seen that's not dead, so it would be nice to team up. I assume, by your previous question, that you have a worm in your head?"

Gale sighed, "Unfortunately, I've been made an involuntary host. I may have only a few days to live if we don't find someone to extract it."

"Days?" I felt my face contort in muted horror. I truly did get lucky. "I watched them place one in someone else's eye and it looked like it chewed straight through, but your eye is intact," I examined his inset dark eyes under strong brows. Purple had begun to collect under them, which I knew I must have too. I was starting to feel the exhaustion of the last 24 hours. If it had been simply 24 hours.

As if thinking along the same lines, a small voice perked up, "I'm hungry. Can we get some food?"

Gale glanced down at Sylas, "Do you happen to like apples, young man?"

Sylas nodded.

"Then I have just the thing." With a swish of his hands and a whispered word, a bag appeared from thin air.

"Cool!" Sylas' eyes grew twice as big as he watched the wizard work. Gale drew out the drama by pretending to dig around deep in the bag for the apple before tossing it over to the boy.

"I've never heard use of a temperate description as an exclamation. Alas, I'm getting older."

I shrugged, "You and me both. How old are you anyway?"

"I'll be thirty and eight years in a couple months. May I ask your age?" he responded politely.

"I'm thirty five. Six at the end of the year... Well, I don't know how your calendar works, but I guess it would technically be midwinter."

Gale furrowed his brows again, "How my calendar works? Surely, we use the same dating systems, even if we hail from different regions."

I paused, then added, "Possibly. We could very well have the same one. I guess we will have to check one. I'm not sure how long we were on the"

"Space ship," Sylas interrupted again.

Gale looked confused at the boy, "Why do you keep calling it a 'space' ship?"

Sylas' teeth crunched through another bite, his mouth full, "Because that's what it is."

Gale lifted his brows at me and I shook my head stifling a laugh. Then I glanced around us at the landscape which seemed to be shaped out of some canyons. "Did you see any other survivors before getting stuck?"

Gale shook his head, "But we should seek a healer. Well, I should, but you're welcome to join me. You don't happen to be some kind of cleric do you?"

"To be honest, Gale, I don't know what that is."

Gale's brows bunched again, "I see. Tell me again where you hail from?"

"Seattle," Sylas answered.

I leaned over awkwardly toward my son, "I don't think he knows where that is, my love."

Sylas looked up at me in confusion as Gale looked at us suspiciously. "Which, pray tell, region is this Sea Attel located?"

Sylas watched Gale like he was an idiot for asking. "Washington state, in the country of America," he stated flatly.

"And where is this America?" Gale asked.

"On a different planet," I answered quickly.

Gale's eyes went wide. "Which planet?"

"Earth," Sylas answered with a tone.

I turned to my son, going full mom mode. "Sylas. We're clearly no longer on Earth. We saw aliens, dragons, demons, and he can do real magic. Don't talk to him like he should know better. That's rude."

"Sorry," he said under his breath. "We're not on Earth, mommy?"

Gale answered instead, "You, my well traveled friend, are on Toril, on the continent of Faerun... I think. I can't guarantee we aren't on the other side of my own planet."

"Is that why he doesn't speak English?" Sylas asked.

"Yes, honey. He's not from America so he speaks a different language. But, remember, people speak lots of different languages even in America."

"Sounds just like Faerun." Gale smiled haughtily, "I, actually, speak several languages and can read them too."

Sylas pursed his lips and nodded, impressed. I laughed, I had never seen him make the face before.

"Glad I could impress such a fine young mind. Well," he held his arm out, "Let's see if we can't find more of us. And hopefully a healer."

As we took to walking around the wreckage for possible survivors, Gale leaned in, "I'm going to need you to tell me everything about where you're from. It sounds fascinating."

I held out my hand, "Only if you do the same."

"It's a deal." He slipped his hand into mine, but as I gripped his, he quickly pulled his out of my grasp. "Sorry," he said quickly, as he flexed a fist.

"It's okay," I said slowly, as I watched him strut ahead of our small group.

[Gale affix:

Meeting you was a most unique experience. I simultaneously wanted to make you feel at ease, as well as garner as much pertinent information about you as I could for an overall assessment. You and Sylas spoke and were dressed unlike any I had ever come across, and I had met many an individual from differing locales and planes of existence. You still carry the most distinct of accents, even now that you're fluent. It always brings me joy to hear you speak.

Also, please include a reference about shaking your hands. I'm unsure if you were privy to my discomfort, but it surely spooked me!]

As we turned a corner, Gale threw out his staff to stop us from running into whatever he had walked into. My heart lifted for a millisecond as two familiar faces came into view, alongside a new one. But my anxiety seized the measly hope at the sounds of yelling, growling, and what seemed like threats over brandished weapons and gnashing jaws.

Gale turned to Sylas and I, "Let me see what's the matter and if it can be handled with diplomacy. If not, we will make a swift exit. Just stay here for now."

We saw him make his way to the new group. The others assessed him cautiously, but the black-haired one and the dragon-man settled after a few shared words. The last to respond was the one who had brandished a knife. Gale shook hands with the more receiving two, then the pale elf gave his hand, reluctantly.

I looked around the scenery as Gale continued his conversation with the new group. The large river was clear and seemed to cut through the canyons. I hoped we hadn't landed in Faerun's equivalent of my own realm's large uninhabited forests, which we call National Parks in my home country of America. Hundreds of miles of nothing but wilderness, no civilization in sight. I doubted there was some kind of a National Guard or Forest Ranger Service that would be sent out to rescue survivors. But, I also hoped we hadn't landed on some kind of small town, decimating it, or next to a large city to be arrested like fugitives.

I rubbed my chest. My heart beat erratically, causing a pain to start thrumming. An anxiety attack was imminent. It felt as if no amount of Faerun's freshest air could fill my lungs fast enough.

"Mommy?" a small voice asked, breaking my thoughts.

I looked down at my son. He pointed. Walking up to us were the newcomers led by Gale. My heart felt like it was going to rip through my rib cage. Hopefully, Gale had given them all that weird tongues spell.

The black-haired warrior walked up first, hand ready, but Gale threw his arm out. She looked up at him in confusion and irritation, but it dissipated as she listened to him explain what I assumed was an explanation on how I couldn't understand her. Instead, she stopped short and gave a little awkward wave and grin. I waved back just as awkwardly.

Gale, finally, turned to Sylas and I. "These are more survivors of the crash. They, also, have been, what we are coining, 'tadpoled'. So, they will be joining us." He indicated to the other woman, "This is Shadowheart. She is a cleric." He nodded to the dragon-faced one on his right, "This is Durge, he is what we call a Dragonborn. He seems to have been injured in the crash..." Durge said something to Gale. "Or possibly as he was being abducted, and is having memory issues. He thinks he may be a sorcerer or wizard of some kind. And," he stepped aside to reveal the final companion, the pale elf, "This is Astarion. He's an elf from Baldur's Gate."

The elf, with his arms crossed, eyed me with disdain, scanning me from my toes to my head, his face exhibiting his disapproval. I met his gaze and actively rolled my eyes, like a teen who refused to be bullied. I wasn't the one who might die in a few days, so let him judge. He looked like a court jester in his frilly doublet and could probably use some time touching grass.

Gale turned to the others again, introducing us in his language. I nodded and held up my hand in a small wave, while Sylas just stood there.

"Can they understand us, Mommy?"

I looked down at his small head, "I don't think so, hon. Why?"

Gale glanced back at Sylas, "With this spell, whenever I speak directly to you, you will hear your own language, but not when I speak directly to someone else."

He stood quiet, nodding, deciding whether to say something, "I'll tell you later," he responded. I guessed he didn't want to risk it and I rubbed his back in reassurance. I felt someone watching and saw Shadowheart smiling softly at us. I smiled back.

"Well, I guess we had better get moving," Gale announced.

Shadowheart said something to Gale, looking back at Sylas and I, before stepping past him down the path she had been on earlier.

"Shadowheart said to tell you to check crates and bodies for supplies. If pilfering off of corpses isn't to your taste, then don't worry about it. But, if you find anything of use, you can put it in my bag of holding."

Sylas stepped past me and up next to the wizard as the elf and the dragonborn followed after Shadowheart. "What's a bag a' holding?"

Gale smiled down at Sylas as we continued after the others around the wreck site, "It's an enchanted backpack that has no bottom. You reach in and think of what you want to find and it will put it in your hand. Though, you have to place it in the bag first. You can't just ask for anything. This isn't a djinn lamp."

Sylas' face quickly went from wonder to confusion, "What's a djinn?"

"A genie, like in the Aladdin movie," I added. (oh to have movies and tv shows...)

"Oh! The blue guy with the wishes?" Sylas said excitedly.

"Yes, what Gale is saying is that you can't just reach into the bag and pull out whatever you want. Just like any backpack, you have to put it in first. But, there's a lot more space in Gale's bag than what it looks like on the outside."

Sylas nodded, his face considering the new information. "Can I try it?"

Gale smiled, "Absolutely!"

As the wizard pulled the bag once again from thin air, I walked around the two to walk behind the other group of three as they stepped through more of the crash site.

"More of those wretched things!" Shadowheart exclaimed, as brains with legs bolted toward us. I had missed them on our trip through the ship, thankfully. The gods of this world were creative.

I watched in rapt amazement as she threw what looked like pure light at one of them, but missed, leaving a scorch mark on the floor.

The Dragonborn had started running after another with a small red sword, while the elf next to me unsheathed a dagger in wait.

I looked back and saw Gale standing guard in front of a shocked Sylas. I turned back to the fight and drew my gun, clicking the safety off, as a brain scurried out from being nearly cut in half by Durge's blade. All three were now bolting in my direction.

The elf mumbled something and I turned to see him smiling maliciously. I didn't have time to analyze him and turned my attention to the screeching brains (gods it was so gross to hear them make noise). As they grouped within a few feet of me, I pulled the trigger. Three echoing shots later, they laid in a small heap a few feet from me.

Everyone else stood in shades of awe and distress, staring at me holding the hand gun. I glanced around sheepishly. Even Gale had paled a little. "You're welcome?" I said breaking the silence.

Shadowheart eyed the weapon suspiciously, then me, nodded, and walked off a little quicker than before. I turned to Astarion, who had been excited at the prospect of killing the beasts, who was now looking at the gun with the same level of amusement. I looked up at Durge who was just watching me like some kind of animal in the distance. I holstered the gun on my waistband clip and walked back to check on Gale and Sylas.

Gale watched me carefully, eyeing the gun on my waistband. “I think I can guess as to how you escaped our fate.”

I gave him an awkward smile, “I guess you could.”

Gale ushered us after the others as they continued to pass through the ship toward the river.

Sylas pulled on my shirt. I leaned over to him, him smirking up at me, "That was really cool, mommy."

I gave him a high five.

[Jen note: That gun was so loud! Of course we got used to hearing it, but in the metal cavern, it was deafening. Gods I thought my ear drums had burst.]

We camped inside of an old crypt. I have camped in a cemetery on Halloween, a holiday in my country that celebrates death, and this was somehow creepier.

I had joined in on checking sarcophagi for loot, but sleeping surrounded by them was a little disconcerting, like we were guaranteeing a midnight visitation. Not to mention the giant skeletal visage in a cloak looming over us in silent judgment as we passed around small bits of bread, cheese, fruit, and jars of water. I nearly expected to find my name etched on the scroll rolling out of it's hands.

We had no tents, just stolen dirty bed rolls. Well, Gale had a nicer bedroll from his bag of holding. He was polite enough to offer up spare food, but even Sylas would have to make due on what we had picked up from some of the adventurers Durge had scared off. My companions were able to get a hold of some more weapons and gear for themselves before we discovered the underground crypt, deciding to call it a day.

As we sat quietly eating around the fire, every small attempt at conversation seemed to die out among my companions. It wasn't as if Sylas or I could understand anyways. I had witnessed Gale repeat the tongues spell on himself several times throughout the day, which I gathered meant it only lasted so long. He had stopped after we had gotten situated, which meant his magic must have limits and we were all exhausted.

"Mommy?" I looked over at Sylas.

"Yes, love?" He was glancing around the small temple that had a few old chests and long dead scribes looking as if they may have simply fallen asleep on duty, never to wake.

"Can I look around? I'm bored."

I truly felt for him. He was stuck with four random adults on the most unusual camping trip of his life. "Sure, just don't go through any doors. If you find anything cool, just call for me, okay?"

He hopped up on excited feet, as he agreed. The others watched in curiosity and boredom as he started wandering around, then quickly went back to watching the fire, reading, sharpening weapons, or trying to rest.

The group was odd. Now, without armor and robes, I could really get a good look at them.

The cleric, which Gale had described as some kind of battle nurse, was in some kind of armor underclothing. She was much more fit than I had anticipated, but it did make sense to her occupation. Looking down at my t-shirt, jeans, and bare feet, I realized I really needed to get back 'on the horse' when it came to being in shape. The gun allowed me to keep up for fighting, but when I ran out of bullets I was going to need to swing a sword and I definitely wasn't physically ready to do it.

Gale had taken off the outer robe and loosened the wrap shirt underneath. I could see the full extent of his tattoo over his sternum which looked bruised. He was much thinner than I realized. His collar bones were very prominent with a faint dipping of ribs over his chest. He looked like he could catch up on a few meals. The lines of his tattoo up his neck seemed to fade into the veins leading up to his left eye. It seemed like they might be connected. A magical tattoo for a wizard didn't seem so out of reach.

Durge, who was sharpening his blade, was covered in white scales, and when standing was well over six feet, a wall of muscle with red fiery eyes. It made sense why the dwarf adventurer and his team had folded so easily. He was physically intimidating, especially with his sharp teeth and horned head. I had to remind Sylas several times not to stare (as well as myself), especially after he stripped down to simply pants while we made camp. I found myself blushing a few times he looked my way. If he had been more human, I probably wouldn't have been able to look him in the eye without smiling like an idiot. I needed to tuck that thought away and deal with it later.

Lastly, was the elf. I had my share of attractive male friends throughout my lifetime, so I wasn't as affected by him as I was Durge. He was elegant as I expected any elf would be with high cheekbones on a symmetrical face, long pointed ears, and perfectly styled soft silver curls. It was as if he had stepped right out of one of the romantic fantasy books that were so popular these days. But, in the frilly laced undershirt, I noticed that he, too, seemed a little too skinny. Maybe skinny was Faerun's male social beauty standard. Or, maybe, both Gale and Astarion were a bit sickly.

Red eyes caught my brown ones staring. He made a mocking sultry face, as if he were 'flattered' by my examination. I raised a brow in challenge and his face settled on a look of bored irritation as he went back to picking his oddly long nails. The red eye coloring was new to me. No one in my realm had true red eyes. Some with albinism sported almost pink or purple irises, but never blood red like the elf and the dragonborn in my camp.

Watching those two companions in particular, I thought of an observation Sylas had made while we were setting up.

"The guy reminds me of the alligator at the zoo," Sylas said quietly.

"The albino one?" I asked at a similar volume. "Is it because he's part dragon?"

"The elf guy too."

I had eyed Astarion unbuttoning his doublet. "Why the elf guy?"

Sylas pointed to his teeth, "They both has sharp teeth." He snapped his teeth at me, "Just like the alligator."

Now, I watched Astarion bite down on his thumbnail, hooked it with a sharp canine tooth and pulled. A small disgust roiled in my gut. Apparently, Faerun had yet to invent some kind of nail clippers.

"What's this?" I heard Sylas say from across the room.

A hissing sound spread through the sanctum. I froze as I heard the clanking of metal and bones, watching in horror as the dead rose. My three companions and I shot up whipping our heads around watching them rise all around us.

Stone sliding on stone and rounds of what I assumed were curses echoed through the room, muffling Sylas cry of, "Mommy!" as I bolted to where I assumed he was. My companions started yelling at one another as they readied their weapons, Durge letting out a loud roar.

Shadows cast by the campfire danced up the walls making it hard to spot our new assailants spread around the room. Then the dead started their attacks, both magical and physical.

I made it to the stairs that lead to the small room where Sylas was now hiding, but a harsh grip wrapped itself around my upper arm, yanking me back as I came face to face with Astarion as my back slammed up against the wall, demanding something.

"What?" I said automatically.

"I said where do you think you're going?" he repeated just as harshly.

I stood there speechless in shock.

"Oh don't go dumb now, where is the weapon from earlier?" he raked.

I automatically reached back to my hip, only to find it empty, my fear plastering across my features. "Shit. I left it next to my bedroll." I looked out over the din of the fight to see the skeletons had started to amass in the camping area, blocking my way to the gun.

Astarion shoved a quiver of arrows against my chest, as he leaned his face close to mine, "I hope you know your useless runt is to blame for anything that happens to me. So, at least make yourself useful and pass me arrows when I tell you."

I didn't even have time to quip back at the insult before he spun around and shot off an arrow at a dead warrior who was aiming at Gale's head. It didn't kill it, if they could be killed, but it did knock it on its back.

"Dock," Astarion commanded.

I slipped him another. Over and over, as we made our way carefully to my bedroll, I passed him arrows as he called out for them. He shot off a few fire bolts out of his fingers, meeting ice shards mid flight in our direction.

"Do you have it?" he called out over his shoulder

I didn't answer. I simply stood and shot off a round into one of the skulls of a warrior standing nearby, the blast shattering bone across the floor.

"I hope you know that what I'm shooting can pass through flesh and bone, and can ricochet off stone. And I can't retrieve them like arrows either," I yelled back.

"Then don't waste your shots," he called back. "Your left!"

I turned, and sure enough, another was taking aim. I shattered another skull, the rest of the bones crumbling into a heap.

Astarion shot off another fire bolt at the same time Gale threw a red one, both aiming true at the final adversary, finishing the small battle.

The elf whipped around to face me.

"You can speak my language?" I asked quickly.

"I forced the wizard. I wasn't about to do all the heavy lifting when your weapon is so efficient."

Durge laughed darkly from behind him, shaking his head, as if not in agreement with Astarion's self assessment. The dragonborn turned and headed into the alcove at the top of the small set of stairs.

I faced the elf again, "If you'll excuse me, I need to check on my son. He's had one hell of a weekend. He's probably terrified. It's too bad he couldn't be more useful." I stepped around him, making sure to shove him a little with my shoulder. If he wanted to play the bully, I was game to see him try.

I found Durge and Shadowheart standing and kneeling next to Sylas who had been crying while huddled in a corner. Shadowheart patted his knee while shushing, a small attempt at comfort. Durge was standing behind her, arms crossed, watching. He nodded to me as I came up next to Shadowheart. I heard steps behind me, but refused to turn around in case it was Astarion and not Gale.

I opened my arms and my small boy fell into them. He sobbed, his cries the only sound in the stone room for several minutes. It felt as if he were crying for all of us. For the loss of home, the loss of autonomy, the loss of what could have been and what was. I doubted any of my companions ever expected to be standing in a dark tomb surrounded by the undead with bugs in their heads that would lead to their deaths. How fitting it was we were camping in a crypt.

As Sylas calmed I felt a hand rest on my shoulder. I looked into the soft and tired face of Gale as I felt Sylas start to nod off in my arms. Astarion and Shadowheart had already left the room, only Durge and Gale stayed. I grinned softly up at Gale and he nodded before walking off leaving only a dozing Sylas and Durge.

The imposing figure sank down to a knee before me, then leaned his face toward mine. "I can take him to bed if you would like."

Surprise colored my face. His voice was soft, but deep, his accent more like my own than the others. "Did Gale give you the tongues spell too?"

The dragon shook his head. "I've been able to understand you the entire time. I heard what he said about your alligators. Very observant. We've got alligators and dragons here too." He sighed, "I remember such random shit. I can barely remember my own name and I can't remember where I was a week ago, but I can remember alligators." He shook head, a side of his mouth tipping upwards slightly, "I don't know why I can understand you or speak your language, but I'm glad to be able to talk to you. I didn't want the others to ask questions I don't know how to answer, so if we can keep this our little secret for now, that would be helpful."

I nodded. "Of course." I watched his intense eyes stare at me with impossible softness. His facial structure was incredible, even being so distinctly reptilian, it was decidedly animated.

He nodded toward Sylas, "I think he finally passed out. Let me get him." He reached down and scooped up my son with a surprising amount of gentleness, as if lifting a feather from the floor.

I grinned softly up at him as we both stood, Sylas resting in Durge's large arms. "Thank you," I said quietly, setting a hand on his arm.

Durge closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, sighing a little. He smiled without teeth, watching me. "You didn't have to do that, but gods, that was nice."

I tipped my head, "What do you mean?"

He stepped toward the doorway and looked back at me, "Your magic. It's... calming, peaceful." I cocked a brow and he chuckled quietly, deeply, "Looks like Astarion was wrong. You aren't a weak link after all."

[Astarion affix:

I wish I could say that meeting you was eventful, but it was rather dismal. The only thing of note, which I doubt you were astute enough to decipher, was that when you rolled your eyes at me I decided then and there you would be my dinner. Whether that night or another, you were the mark. I do feel a bit of shame that I never once considered the implications on Sylas. I was too numb back then to care what happened to him. He was simply a small obstacle that I was willing to overlook.

Well, if it's any consolation, we all know how it turned out.]