Chpt 1. The Nautiloid
Trigger Warning: Hell and Violence, graphic descriptions of icky bits.
My eyes snap open as I gasp for air, my lungs hungry and aching.
A great roar envelops me, flooding every corner of my mind.
The world quakes.
I'm surrounded by blurs of red and pink. A white-hot pain splits my face. I double over, but my head cracks into something unyielding. The sound of the collision thrums in the air. I reach out to find a wall bending around me. This is a vessel, and I'm inside. My breath quickens as panic sets in. I press on every surface, searching for an escape. Nothing. This thing is barely big enough to hold me! I've awakened, only to witness myself die again in this wretched coffin!
No. I plant my back flat against the vessel and press until my bones ache. The damned thing doesn't even shift. I try for what seems like an eternity before punching the door in frustration, but my tantrum only serves to injure my knuckles. Blood smears across the door and I press my hands against it in futility. I finally focus and peer through the warped glass lid into the chamber beyond. I recognize something. A pool of caustic fluid cracked and leaking. Illithid parasites writhing and dying on the ground. Tadpoles. A memory rips through me.
I have the key. I've had the key.
I have one of those worms behind my eye. I convulse at the revelation, but I have no time for vitriol. I choke down my disgust and close my eyes, focusing on the creature in my skull. The moment I feel my thoughts connect with the psionic parasite, I give the command. Release.
It squeals and wriggles with pleasure, sending out a psionic pulse. I instantly gag, but the door slides open. I drop out, clinging to the ground, breath heavy. A rush of warm sulfuric air washes over me, bringing with it notions of who I am. I sharply inhale and grip my horns, clinging to them as if they'd only existed in a fleeting dream. "Gods..." I whimper. My voice is raspy, like I haven't spoken in decades.
Everything rattles and lurches. I'm thrown upright into a fleshy wall, reinforced with chitin. The squish of living tissue makes my back wet. I swiftly push off and regain my footing. These fleshy walls could only belong to an illithid war ship. A Nautiloid.
Something slams into it, causing the ship to drop altitude. I need to figure out what the fuck is going on. I charge past the brine pool, towards a sphincter. It squelches open for me. A profane door. My limbs feel stiff and I fumble, but make it to the next chamber. I don't stop until I feel a tugging on the tender threads of my consciousness. I grip my head and collapse, skidding to a stop. A desperate voice cuts through me. Save us! Help us!
This fucking thing hijacked my mind. For a burning moment, my fury rises, until I realize it's an Intellect Devourer. Yes! This is exactly what I need!
Where are you?
Chair. Hurry!
I look around, turning every which way, finally spotting a chair on a platform just above me. I climb onto broken pieces of the hull before reaching it. A twitching body of a man occupies the seat. Eyes possessed and shifting, skull cap removed. Abandoned mid-craniotomy.
Yes! You've come to save us!
"Yes, hold still." My voice is starting to dip into its normal soothing lull. My eyes travel over the exposed brain, and I'm able to plot out the extraction. Swelling due to edema. The damned thing should have been removed hours ago. I begin using my fingers for blunt dissection. Separating the cerebral tissue from the meninges lining. When I feel a satisfying shift, I pull the brain from its cranial prison. The tissue at the base of the cerebrum rips and pops between my fingers and a shiver runs down my spine. I let out an audible sigh and physically shudder, smiling softly.
I've been panicked up until this point, but this surgical procedure is soothing to me. It dawns on me that I don't even know who I am. I must have been a doctor. One who enjoyed his work a little too much.
My fingers twitch as I look at my new friend, and a voice hisses in my ears. C-crush. Cripple. Kill...
I quickly place the creature on the ground, the impulse to tear it apart feels difficult to restrain. I need this thing. "Can you navigate the ship?"
The creature sprouts four fleshy legs with padded skin-paws. It sits peacefully for a moment, communing with an unseen entity.
I loom over it, impatient but reserved, "Well?"
They are calling. Come with me. We must go to the helm.
I gesture onward. "Lead the way then. What do I call you?"
The creature hops, almost playful. Us. We are Us!
A blast of flames arches through the cracks in the hull, grazing me. I gather Us into my arms and leap onto the main floor, hitting the ground with a heavy thud. My ankles feel the force of the landing more than anything else. Dashing over to an open corridor, I duck behind a wall. A red dragon's shadow passes overhead. The ship is under attack by Githyanki raiders. Of course. The Githyanki and Illithids have been enemies for centuries.
The leftmost wall to the corridor has been blown away, and below is the beckoning wasteland of Avernus. There is a beat of relative calm, and I sprint across. The pull of the open sky tugs at me, but I propel myself forward with every bit of strength I have.
I see the next chamber a few paces ahead, but I am waylaid by a Githyanki woman. She lands in front of me, blocking my path to safety. "THRALL! Your day has come!"
My eyes lock onto hers. I'm twice her size, giving me advantage, even though I'm unarmed and clad in rags. She's nimble, but young, and holds herself with the zeal of a green soldier... pun intended. Her face falls as it slowly dawns on her that I choose to go through her. I give her a mocking grin, lowering my head and catching her on my shoulder. She flails as I lift her up, but doesn't strike. "Istik! Put me down!"
In that moment we hear a roar, and a burst of flames erupts behind us. I'm launched into the air, feeling the heat on my heels. I land, dropping everyone, splayed out on the ground. We slide across the floor toward an opening that drops straight into the burning lakes below. I propel myself forward right as I see Us disappear over the edge. It whips a tentacle skyward, and I snatch it, mercifully. Us squeaks as it dangles over the hells. I pull it back up and cling to it once again. Last thing I need is to lose my map. I turn to the woman and grip the collar of her armor, lifting her to her feet as I stand. She slaps my hand off her and scowls at me, but she doesn't have time to chastise me for my antics. We've interrupted the meal of three scavenging imps. A shrill screech rises from one of them.
The gith woman throws her fist in the air and matches the screeching imp with her own wild battle cry. "HTAK'A!"
The imp that charges her is caught on the edge of her blade and split in two. Half of it flies in my direction, but I dodge it. Us charges the other imp with fury while the last imp hits me directly in the chest. Clawing, scratching, screaming. I promptly rip its wings off. The tearing and popping of tissue makes my mouth water. A feral pleasure surges through me. I throw its useless body overboard as it continues to scream and claw at the air. My fingers twitch, desperate to find more creatures to tear apart.
Us drops its imp with a lacerating swipe, but it's still wriggling on the ground. I place my bare foot on its belly and begin to press, feeling its body gradually rupture beneath me. A faint crackling driving up the base of my tail into the back of my neck. Blood spurts from the imp's mouth until screams turn to gargles and fade into blessed silence. I'm lost as I watch it slowly become undone.
The Gith woman marches up to me, snapping me out of my trance. "Enough playing, Istik, our time runs short!"
I take a sharp breath in and quickly shove the dead toy out the open hole in the floor. I can't let myself get distracted by such indulgences. "Apologies." I run my hand down my face and shake my head, pulling myself together. "What's your name?"
She's thumbing through the belongings of one of the corpses. She gathers a few daggers and hands them to me. "Call me Lae'zel." She eyes me as I take them. "Perhaps now that you're armed, you'll remain focused on the fight."
Her tone is biting, but it's background noise to the weight of the knives in my hand. It feels like home, and I flip one in hand before hesitating. Do I know my name? Y-yes. "I'm Vash Neel." Saying it out loud feels like I'm reclaiming another piece of myself. It's jarring just how little I know about myself.
She gives a respectful nod and then moves. Us and I follow as she climbs some arterial mesh to the second floor of the nautiloid.
We enter a chamber with pods lining the walls. My ear catches the screams of a frightened woman. It rouses me. Strange. I quickly find her banging on the door of her pod, warding runes encircle her and connect to a console next to her.
Us suddenly feeds me the schematics of the ship. The helm is to the right, but my body lurches as my mind recognizes a chest in the chamber straight ahead. I run past the trapped woman, and her panic rises as she watches me leave her behind. Her desperation sends more of those addictive shivers and snaps down my back. It's starting to become erotic.
The chest sits bolted on a landing in the back of the chamber. I stumble up the stairs and throw the lid open. Thank the gods, my belongings. My eyes instantly glaze over and another memory bites at me. A husband's voice, cracked with jealousy. The smell of rotting flesh. A voice raised in anger. "Get him out!" My belongings thrown into this very chest. I can't help but scoff, I'm quite the home wrecker. I throw off the stinking blood-stained rags and dig into the chest.
Lae'zel runs up behind me before throwing her hands in the air. "What in the hells are you doing!? Put your clothes on! Are the people of this realm no better than beasts?"
I glance back at her, "Haven't you seen a naked man before?"
She blushes and turns her back to me, embarrassed more about her red face than my nudity.
I begin to pull my clothes out, quickly donning deep red woolen pants with leather gussets and a black hemp spun tunic. I lace my leather belt into place and slide my leather boots on, with sabatons to match. I pull out red ribbons and wrap my hands with muscle memory, weaving them between my fingers and around my wrists for support, sliding iron plate bracers over my arms. My cloak lays in a pile at the bottom of the chest. I quickly snatch it up, pressing my face into it. Scent is so inextricably tied to memory. I inhale deeply, desperate to pull my past from its dregs. It gives me nothing. Only linseed oil and the scent of dusty roads, earthy, metallic, with a vague perfume of aged gore.
I hear something clang and look to see my greatsword. Hilt jagged, blade still sitting in its scabbard. I smell it again. Linseed oil. Paladin. I'm a Paladin! But I can't remember the nature of my oath. Yet another question that will have to wait. I throw my cloak over my shoulders. The weight of the wool is a comforting embrace. I feel safe again. It falls to the length of my shins, and I adjust the hood before strapping my scabbard to my back. I can begin again.
The ship jolts once again and we're thrown into the air before slamming into the ground from the landing. I hear the cries of the trapped woman once more. I stumble to my feet and rip past Lae'zel. The woman is doubled over, dark mail shining, fists feebly pounding on the door of the pod. She's another warrior, her resolve worn thin by her predicament. Her panic has waned, having settled into exhausted sobbing. "P-please!"
She's very lucky. Being useful is the price of my precious time. I attune myself to the console connected to her pod. I lock into the warding runes, forcing my will through them and shattering their hold on her. This woman wasn't just a victim; she was a prisoner. She's likely more dangerous than I realize. Exciting.
I commune with my tadpole once more and give the command. Release. It squirms in my skull. I lurch forward, gagging once again. The lid opens and she falls to the ground exhausted and shaking. Lae'zel and I give her space, waiting for her to compose herself. I offer my hand and she takes it, climbing to her feet and steadying herself. She catches her breath, makeup running, wiping her face clean as best as possible. "I thought... I thought I was lying in my coffin."
I put a hand on her shoulder. "Are you alright? They had you locked away like a weapon."
She scoffs, "You're closer to the truth than you know." Her eyes suddenly go wide, and she turns on her heel reaching back into the pod. She swiftly places a strange object in her satchel, then turns back to me, changing the subject in a clever use of misdirection. "Thank you for your rescue, but we're not out of it yet. Do either of you have a plan on how to get out of here?"
Lae'zel chimes in, impatient. "Yes! We must find the helm!"
The woman's face falls, and she becomes guarded but resigned. "She's right."
I smell the tension. The woman is coiled like a spring. She'll kill Lae'zel the moment it becomes necessary. May the strongest survive. "Come with us. I'm Vash Neel."
Her smile is sincere and grateful toward me. "Shadowheart."
Us squeaks with finality and we all hear its mind. To the helm!
We follow it through the final door, stepping onto the bridge and into utter pandemonium.
Hellsboar and imps scattered across the room, while a lone Mind Flayer is caught in a duel with a Cambion. At the very back of the bridge is the helm. Whipping tentacles float haplessly, waiting for direction. The illithid navigator is lying skewered in a pool of silver blood beneath them.
We're battle ready in an instant. Lae'zel charges the imp to my right, Us charges the imp to my left, and a hellsboar charging me with the fury of a burning inferno. Tusks flailing, molten skin seething with heat. I dodge the attack but quickly realize I'm not going to take down this beast without the aid of my powers. Do I even have any? I am effectively oathless. No conviction. No God that I can recall. It's time to put my purpose to the test. If I was empowered by conviction, beckoning for strength will yield nothing. If I was empowered by a God, I pray they haven't forgotten me and are merciful enough to fuel me once again. I calm my mind amongst the madness and reach my hand into the air.
The hellsboar has turned and is charging once again.
I am suddenly chilled and breathless, utterly drained of my essence, like I'm in the presence of death itself. The world is quiet, though the boar is bearing down on me. I am less than nothing.
Then a surge of energy rises from below and fills my blood with the power of something wild and acrid. Whispers in my head rise with chaos, and the crackling sensation that had been fleeting in moments of horror now fill me with a divine purpose. Murder. I have become bloodthirsty, feral, and unleashed. With an empowered force my sword cracks down onto the hellsboar's skull. It erupts in a burst of dark red light. Snaps and static surge through the air as the creature collapses and slides to a halt at my feet. My heart is racing, and I am filled with pleasure, searching for the next thing to kill.
I feel a cold silk ripple through the air as Shadowheart emanates with a power that comes from somewhere dark, forbidden, and incredibly potent. She's a cleric, and an unholy one at that. Her voice hits me with a coordinated directive, "Vash!" She points toward the cambion. "The sword!"
The long sword he's clutching is kissed with hells' flame, and streaks of light follow it with every swing. In an instant I understand what she means and begin to rush him.
"Impero tibi." She commands the sword from the cambions hand, but he holds fast, enraged by her attempt to make him drop it. Seeing his distraction, the mind flayer unleashes a burst of maddening psionic energy against the cambion's mind. He's instantly dazed and Shadowheart strikes again. "Impero tibi!" The sword drops from his hand, but he quickly recovers and ducks to retrieve it. I dive and grab the hilt out from under him, sliding past and out of reach. He begins to chase me, but the mind flayer lets loose another psionic blast and the cambion is nearly knocked off his feet. He turns and takes a swing at the Illithid with his bare fists, burning with fury.
I jump to my feet. "Lae'zel!"
She turns and sees me toss her the cambion's sword. In a split second she's forced to make a decision. She makes the right one—dropping her Githyanki Long Sword and snatching the hells' blade from the air. With one fluid motion she swings at one of the imps that had advanced on her. It crumples to the ground in a helpless pile, cauterized and smoking. Lae'zel stands, looking down at the dead imp, then shifts her gaze to her gith sword on the ground, lips straightened, brow furrowed. She quickly steps over it, moving in on the final hellsboar. Us is skittering next to Shadowheart toward the front of the bridge, not too far behind me. They take on the remaining imps, while I hear Lae'zel and her battle cry cutting into the hellsboar with a new resolve.
I trip and catch myself on the edge of the helm. A psionic instruction from the Mind Flayer hits me.
Connect the nerves.
I quickly connect them and pluck the threaded nerves. Reality blinks and everything goes dark. There is nothing, until the roar of rushing skies fades back into our senses. Hells' heat, red dragons, burning lakes, all of it gone. The cool air of Faerun kisses my skin, but the damage is done, and the nautiloid is going down. I grab hold of the helm and try to steer the ship into an even landing. Turbulence throws me to the ground. I slide across the floor, reaching to catch myself on the hull's edge. My fingers barely graze it, and I slip out into the open air.
I can't help but feel like death should be a grand climax to life.
But who am I?
A man incapable of reflecting on his life in his final moments.
Another broken body, buried by the silt of time.
Forgotten long before he's slipped into the peace of eternity.
How embarrassing.
