Chpt 4. Nettie
Trigger Warning: Graphic Descriptions of Violence and Killing, Strangulation, Vivisection, Dismemberment, Scenes Involving Corpses and Playing with Corpses.
We enter a chamber with several stone beds lining the room. A cauldron bubbles to our left brewing a potion that permeates the air with a pungent, earthy fragrance. Standing by one of the stone beds on our right is a dwarf woman hovering over an injured bluejay. She gives me a brief acknowledgment but remains fixated on the bird. As if to demonstrate her ability she speaks a short incantation and sends a pulse of blue light over the bird. The bluejay's injuries are mended but it lays on the table exhausted.
"You must be Nettie, the druid's healer."
She glances in my direction but is still tending to the bird, "What is it that I could help you with?"
"Healing of course, and soon." My impatience is hard to mask, but I maintain my civility.
She notes the desperation in my voice and finally shifts her attention to me, mindfully looking me over, "Tell me what's been ailing you and I'll do my best."
"What do you know of Illithid tadpoles?"
The look of concern that crosses her face is not hidden by her steady voice, "...why do you ask?"
"I think I may be infected, but I've shown no signs of ceremorphosis. I'm seeking intervention before the damned thing decides to turn on me."
"I see. I suspect it's no coincidence that you've found me now. Come, let's go into my chambers so I can have a closer look at you." She walks over to a stone wall and with a spark of magic from her circlet, the wall begins to open into the library, "Head on inside."
I follow her in, but before my companions can join us the door closes behind me. I am suddenly alert and watch as Nettie rummages around on her desk. She's quiet for a while and then finally turns to me, a branch of thorns in her hand.
"It's a shame you got me and not Master Halsin. He'd have your tadpole out like that, but I still know how I can help. Before I cure you though, I have a few questions."
"I don't exactly have time to wax poetic about my condition, I don't know what's delaying my transformation but I'd rather not risk giving this thing any more time to kill me."
"I know! I know you must be desperate, but this is important."
"Nothing is more important to me than a cure. If you have it, I will answer any question you want after the tadpole is gone."
Nettie scowls, tapping her finger on the prickled branch. "How did you pick up the parasite?"
"Do you intend to cure me or not? If you're going to try to kill me then let's get on with it. You can lay me out on the table like you've done with that one. The drow behind you isn't exactly masking your intentions."
Behind her on a stone table lay the corpse. Aside from the familiar acrid smell of death, it has something else, the distinct scent of piss and iron. He had been infected too, and his parasite is sitting preserved in a vessel on her desk.
Quick as lightening Nettie lunges at me with the branch. I grab her wrist, lifting her up by the offending arm, and squeezing until she drops the thorns. I look into her eyes as she reaches for my gripping hand, struggling to free herself. When she realizes it is futile, she attempts to cast a spell, but before she can finish the incantation, I wrap my hand around her throat and begin to squeeze. I let go of her arm and she claws at my hand in desperation. My grip tightens and I observe quietly as I savor the feeling of her neck compressing with the graduating pressure. Her soft tissue stretches, her cartilage bends, and her bones begin to buckle.
Her face is turning blue, I've compressed the jugular veins, and blood is filling her head. As her face swells, her tongue begins to protrude from her mouth and her eyes bulge. Blood sputters from her mouth as her teeth cut into her swollen tongue. It dribbles down from the corners of her mouth onto my hand. The thyroid cartilage collapses, the hyoid bone snaps, and I feel her skull shift; I think her atlas just separated from the occipital bone. Pop. Pop. Crack. Crunch. My heart is racing, and I don't want to let her go. Her body goes completely limp, and she's become a ragdoll in my hand. A most beautiful undoing, my heart flutters with joy. Her vital systems shut down as the life in her eyes is snuffed out just like that, such a sweet and fragile thing. I feel the greatest relief I've felt since landing on that damn beach. I can't help but laugh to myself as I jiggle her little gelatinous body back and forth in the air. I consider once again if I truly was a doctor. No. I was a hunter, and as my soul is flooded with pleasure and purpose, I crave nothing more than to kill again.
I begrudgingly refocus; I still have the damn tadpole in my skull. I take the circlet from Nettie's ruined head and look around the library. I'm not loving the idea of facing my new companions in this state. I'm roused by blood-lust, and I have no idea how I'm going to explain my actions. I suddenly spot a stone wall with the same grooves as the entry way at the back of the library. I cast a spark of magic from the circlet and sure enough it opens. I peer inside and see it's a strange room with a gaseous vent in the floor; there is another door at the back of the hidden chamber. A booby-trapped corridor, likely a secret passage in and out of the grove.
I make a move to leave but something stops me in my tracks. A pulsating urge to take the tadpole on Nettie’s desk. It comes from within myself but is a notion born outside of my own will. Grabbing the Illithid specimen, I tuck it into my cloak pocket, then step through the hidden door before dropping her body onto the vent. I cast produce flame to ignite the noxious fumes and Nettie's corpse combusts instantly. Her body begins to blister, pop, and sizzle, then another memory stirs. Cooked flesh, the rancid smell of burning hair, and the anticipation of a well-earned meal. Roasted dwarf, I’ve eaten roasted dwarf before, by stomach yearns for it now. I haven't had a decent meal in an age it seems, and the smell of Nettie's burning body isn't helping my condition. With another spark of magic, I close the door behind me. Tucking the circlet into my pocket, I leave through the back door which opens into a wide cavern.
Humid and silent, I see boxes and barrels stacked up along the cavern walls, but then I hear the chatter of goblins, and I duck down low. I creep forward and see them scattered throughout the cavern. The ground where I'm standing has a drop off approx. 5-6m down, three goblins are on the ground below me giving me height advantage, but there is an archer sitting on the same level as me just behind a few rocks. So far, I've been able to stay out of her line of sight, but I know she's there. As I scan the rest of the cave, I see several tall and imposing statues of various animal totems with glowing red eyes. They're guarding the passage, and the one nearest to me is facing a leaking barrel of oil. The goblins could easily sneak past the defenses given their small stature, but I would be a lot more likely to trigger them. The ground below me is thick with mud and juts out a little over 10m before another sharp drop off into a ravine carved out by an active flowing river.
I slowly sneak up behind the archer and cut her throat without causing any alarm. I pull her bow and arrows off her and quickly aim a shot at one of the goblin trackers below. The arrow hits him square in the chest and he immediately collapses. The Sharp-Eye and Warrior look up at me, but I've caught them off guard. I get off another shot that hits the Sharp-Eye in the shoulder, then I quickly retreat on the ledge to get myself out of the line of sight. I hear them climbing the cliff face up to my location. I run forward and get off another shot that hits the Sharp-Eye in her belly and she falls off the ledge landing on the rocks below.
The warrior clears the ledge and charges at me with his axe. I take a step back and then turn to run. The goblin laughs, "Run you cunt! You ain't going to get very f-" An explosion as the goblin is coated in burning oil. As I run past the stone guardian it triggered its protection spell, shooting a bolt of red light from its eyes and hitting the oil barrel right as the goblin warrior ran past. I received a light misting of flaming fumes on the edge of my cloak but I'm able to stamp it out quickly. The goblin received the full load of oil and is completely engulfed. He screams, shrill, painful, and desperate as he burns. He thrashes madly as his skin chars and blisters, before finally sloughing away. I watch patiently as he begins to gasp for air, having continually inhaled the heated fumes from the assault. His throat, I'm sure, is blistering from the heat but the thing that satisfies me most is the idea that one by one his alveoli is rupturing and filling with inflammatory fluid. He collapses as he dies slowly, not from burning on the outside, but from drowning in his own body. The smells, the sounds, the sight, a choreography of death, and I am the conductor. My heart is once again soothed and joyful.
After the goblin perishes, I walk up to the glowing press plates on the wall and disarm the guardians. I walk down the muddy path to the two goblin corpses on the lower level, ready to check them for loot. The body of a halfling catches my eye, I almost missed it because it's caked in mud. My heart flutters with joy. My brain started releasing ghrelin the minute I smelled Nettie's burning body and now my stomach is speaking to me in a profane language. I walk up to it and to my delight it's still alive. Fresh. Though the thought crosses my mind... why did the goblins keep it alive? I put my hand on its shoulder and a blue light pulses through the halfling's body, healing it. Its eyes flick open, and it slowly sits up, groaning and holding its head.
"Oh, thank you thank you, Ser Knight! You have my gratitude! I thought I was a goner!"
I give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze and a friendly smile, "You had me worried! When I saw the goblins, I thought the worst!"
He looks down, "I know, this is my fault really, they followed me in here. I nearly put the whole grove at risk."
I shake my head in solidarity, "Don't be too hard on yourself, it can be frightening when you're out numbered."
A small smile crosses his face, comforted, "True."
"What did the goblins want with you? They could have killed you, but they didn't. Why?"
He gives a shrug, "They kept going on about trying to find some weapon that we had. It must be important because they were very persistent, but I honestly can't think of anything we might have that they would want so badly. I told them the only weapons here are the ones that the..." He pauses as I watch him, "...Tieflings brought."
I snort, "Of course."
He holds his hands up, "My apologies, I honestly didn't know what else to say!" He clambers to his feet, "But I must tell the others, they have to know the grove has been compromised."
I stop him, "One more thing." He pauses, looking at me intently. "I hate to ask for something in return for my services, but I am famished from my travels."
The halfling smiles brightly, "Of course! We have plenty of provisions, I'll be more than happy to offer rations for what you've done for me today!"
I put on a humble show of gratitude, "You have my thanks." At that I grab his foot and pull him towards me. He falls onto his back into the mud; the wind is knocked out of him. I pull out my dagger, cutting away his right trouser leg, and I begin to skillfully carve into his hip making a quick cut down around the top of the thigh and into his groin. Although my cuts are swift and clean, he quickly begins to scream with impressive exuberance, the shrill sounds of his panic echoing across the cavern. His arms flail trying to claw at my eyes. I lean back, out of reach of his grasping hands, placing my palm over his face firmly pinning his head down into the mud so he can no longer reach me. With an artistic flair I sever his femoral artery causing a gush of blood that pulses in a rhythmic arc with gradual declining pressure. Once motionless I swiftly complete the dismemberment of his leg before the stress of the butchery taints the flavor of the meat. As it breaks away, his eyes roll to the back of his head and he begins convulsing, his body is going into hypovolemic shock. I place his leg upside down against some stones to drain the remaining blood. I stand and roll his body off the cliff into the ravine with my foot. The corpse is taken away by the river, peacefully, I didn't dare take more from him for the sake of time and discretion. After a minute, the leg is completely drained. I remove the foot and quickly debone the thigh and calf meat. I toss the scraps into the ravine as well, then take his trouser leg and wrap the butchered meat, tucking it into my cloak. I find my way down a narrow cobbled path to where I can reach the water. I clean myself up once again, satisfied, and I finally head out.
As I emerge from the hidden tunnel, I pause for a moment to get my bearings and hear panicked voices coming from my right. I slowly lean past the outer cave wall and see two humans hovering over an injured dwarf. Hah. Funny. Dwarf meat. I step out from behind the wall and approach them. The woman sees me and is immediately on guard.
"Get back! Not a step closer!"
I gesture to the dying man, "He's injured, I may be able to help."
"Don't you dare lay a finger on him!" Her threats drip with fear.
I hear a weak wheeze come from the dying man, "Waaaiiit." He links his mind to mine. He has a tadpole and he gives me the names of the two humans before me. Andrick and Brynna. "~Protect them.~" His connection is brief and feeble, but the message is received. He then turns to the others, "He is a True Soul! Mind him! He will... H-He..." His dying breath.
Brynna shifts her demeanor to one of reverence and remorse, "You're a True Soul? Forgive me! I was merely protecting my brother!" She turns her head down and doesn't look me in the eye.
I roll my shoulders back taking on the air of someone who's earned this newfound respect, "Your esteem is noted. Now, tell me, what is a True Soul?"
Andrick has yet to speak, but he's eyeing me warily. Brynna answers, "The True Souls speak with the voice of The Absolute. Once The Absolute takes her place as the most high, you, the True Souls, will rule."
"Deferential enough to warrant my grace. I will look past your previous transgression. What were you doing out in these wilds?"
Andrick finally speaks, "We were instructed to look for fugitives that survived that crash. The Absolute wants them found at any cost."
I breathe in, processing this revelation. The Absolute was that same goddess Zevlor said Sazza had been ranting about. He was right in assuming she had more than goblins in her ranks, and now it seems she knows about me and my companions and is looking for us, "Do you know what The Absolute wants with these survivors?"
Andrick answers dutifully, "Her only orders are to capture them, dead or alive, and bring them to the nearest stronghold. They apparently have a weapon that is of great interest to her."
"How many survivors have you found so far?"
They look at each other and Andrick responds with an air of shame, "None... to be honest I don't know how anyone could have survived that crash, but the True Souls who sent us on this mission insist there have been several. We thought it was going to be an easy mission." He shakes his head, "I fear I was underestimating what The Absolute was asking of us, forgive me, but I swear I won't stop until each one of them is found."
I walk up to him, and he lowers his gaze respectfully, my tone is grave as I stare down at him. Pathetic, submissive man, "Shameful you would consider yourself fit for such a task. We cannot afford failure when it comes to duties such as this. Who sent you on this mission?"
"True Soul Minthara. She's stationed at the goblin camp just North of here, through the abandoned village in an old Temple of Selune." Andrick gestures toward the path.
I look in that direction, "What other True Souls are stationed at this camp?"
Brynna is more than happy to interject, eager to please me, "There is True Soul Dror Ragzlin, and Priestess Gut. Other than that, it's only novices like us, mostly goblins."
Curious, this group of cultists, such a strange menagerie. Zevlor's assumptions seemed to be correct, they are organized. "Return to the camp. I'm taking it upon myself to find the survivors."
Andrick grows a bit of a spine and bulks at my command, "But this is our duty! We can't be sent back to the goblin camp just like that. With all due respect, I request you give us more time to prove ourselves, True Soul."
I watch Andrick in his desperate attempt to ingratiate himself to me, but all I hear is sniveling. It's getting on my nerves. "Andrick."
He looks up and meets my eye. What happens next is sudden and instinctual. My hand on the back of his head, my dagger buried deep into his throat. I begin to pull until it bursts out the side of his neck. He collapses and Brynna screams as she watches another brother die right before her eyes. I point my daggered hand at her, and step forward with rancor, "If you can't obey a simple order then what good are you?!"
She looks up at me, wide eyed, falling to her knees in deference, "P-Please!!! Andrick was a fool to question your command, I swear I'll return to the camp! I'll report to Minthara and let her know you're searching for the survivors!"
As I advance on her, I feel the seething bloodlust in my heart. She jumps to her feet in a panic. I tuck my dagger away, arming myself with my greatsword. I take a swing at her, wanting nothing more than to see her split in two, the desire is overwhelming. She dodges my strike and then reflexively hits me with a command: Halt.
I instantly freeze and she shrieks with nerves, "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry, True Soul!" She looks around, looking at her dead brothers, and then back to me. Her eyes are filled with disbelief and abject fear. She turns quickly and runs down the path toward the goblin camp. Gone. I stand helpless for what feels like an eternity. I can't shake the spell, and my muscles are tingling with agitation. Helplessness doesn't suit me. I close my eyes and try to empty my mind. After a moment more the spell releases its hold on me, and I ease back into control of my body. I look down the trail where she ran and consider pursuing her. She was resourceful enough to escape; she has my respect. No doubt she will be reporting all of this to True Soul Minthara, whoever the hells that is. We need to get to the goblin camp, but we need an ally. An ally like Sazza.
I sheath my sword and walk back over to the two bodies on the trail. Andrick and Brynna did not have tadpoles, but it seems this "True Soul" does. We speak with the voice of The Absolute. What in the hells does it all mean? Then it happens. A voice calling out to me from the True Soul's body. I feel a pull toward the small pulses of desperation emanating from behind his eye. His tadpole is calling to me, seeking escape. As I reach out to search for its purpose, I hear a voice flood my mind, Why let this one go to waste? You can take the worm for yourself, absorb its power, and it can strengthen you. What is this? Is this The Absolute?
If she is the voice compelling the True Souls then it's not unreasonable to assume this, and the notion felt before comes from her influence. If so, she offers up an intriguing prospect. I embraced my desire to commune with the tadpole and with another pulse of psionic energy it squelches free from behind his eye and floats toward my palm, gifting itself to me. I'm able to quickly preserve it as Nettie had preserved hers. I'm not entirely sure how to use them, so I will need to learn more. They will either be an invaluable asset... or utter garbage.