Breathe. It's done.

I'm finally going to get a decent fucking night's sleep.

My shoulders shift with a sour ache. The stench of acid and flesh hangs in the air.

A hum grows into a roar. The world rattles.

I slowly open my eyes. A dim red light seeps through warped glass. I press my hand against my face. Something writhes behind my eye. Bending. Slipping. …alive.

I retch. My head cracks into something unyielding and I fall back. My wet palms slide across the glass.

It bends around me.

Trapped... I'm trapped.

My back hits the surface as I jam my foot against the window, pressing until my bones ache.

It doesn't budge.

I punch it. My knuckles split.

I lean my forehead against the glass. Fog spreads and fades against it with each breath. I look out into the chamber beyond.

A pool of caustic fluid sits cracked and leaking. Tadpoles spill onto the ground. Parasites... Illithids. The word haunts me and...

No.

I'm infected.

A shudder rushes through me, and I sink into a crouch, but my knees wedge halfway.

Robbed of the dignity of curling up in a ball and dying properly.

The tadpole shifts once again, and I press my hands over my face as my shoulders coil. "Stop..." I say, voice muffled behind my palms.

Psionic energy pulses from the worm. The door shifts, and I land heavy on a chitinous floor.

Gods.

Slowly, I rise. The room is taut with rippling flesh. Pods line the chamber walls. Each one hosting a body. It feels familiar. It shouldn't. I have no memories. Only strange sensations and the uncanny feeling that I'm being watched.

My shoulders tense. I stumble past the brine pool toward a strange sphincter. My limbs drag, toes scraping against the floor. The sphincter opens into a laboratory. Alien atriums hum with biomes of life, anchored next to cold chitin tables.

My fingers land on a tablet with strange etchings. Fragments of goblin traditions flood my mind. I hold it up. My mouth hangs open before I drop it and frantically look for more.

Information moves factions faster than swords.

Several tablets are strewn on a table across the chamber. I move, but everything rattles and tips. The tablets slide into an open corridor. I lunge, catching one. The nature of Illithids seeps into my mind. The rest drop into the open air. I hang over the edge of the hull, watching them fall toward the roiling lakes of Avernus. I sink back. I'm flying through the hells on an illithid warship. A fucking Nautiloid.

A dragon screams by, flames erupting from its jaws. We're under attack.

I go still. The ship is damaged. The enemy is pressing in from all sides. The crew is likely compromised. I doubt anyone is in command.

I need to commandeer this ship.

I pat myself down. Dressed in stinking rags. Unarmed. The tadpole bends, and I grab my face once more. "Stop!"

Words echo through my mind. "Help Us!"

Us? I scan the shadows for an ambush before hearing a slurred voice.

"Hhhelp. Mmeee."

The voice comes from behind. Pieces of broken hull lead up to a platform. A man lies slumped and twitching, abandoned mid-vivisection. His brain is exposed, quivering helplessly. Another message enters my mind. "Free Us from this prison!"

The Illithid tablet... this is an intellect devourer. Trapped, like I was.

Thank the Gods, I needed a map.

I reach for it, but my hand begins to tremble and my face falls. I hesitate.

Careful.

My finger gingerly separates the tissue. The brain shifts, and with a satisfying rip, I pull it free. It nestles in my hands, then sprouts four fleshy legs with padded skin-paws. The legs paw at the air, and I place the creature down.

"Can you take me to the helm?" I say, wiping my hands on my threadbare tunic.

"They are calling. Follow Us!"

"Us? You keep saying Us. I don't understand."

The creature taps its flesh paws excitedly. "Us. We are Us!"

A burst of flames arches through the cracks in the hull, grazing me.

"Fuck!"

Another red dragon roars past. Us leads me to the open corridor where we duck behind a wall. In a moment of reprieve, I carefully gather Us into my arms and sprint across. The corridor wall has been blown away, leaving the open skies of Avernus calling to me.

As the next chamber draws near, a body lands nimbly in front of me, sword poised, silver armor gleaming. Her voice barely masks the rising panic within her.

"Kaincha! Ch'mar, zal'a Vlaakith!"

A githyanki warrior. She's half my size, and still very green. Pun intended.

Our eyes lock.

Her jaw tenses.

She swings, but misses.

I catch her on my shoulder, tackling her to the ground. The ship lurches. The warrior and Us slide out of my arms as we careen toward a wide crack in the floor.

Us and I slip over the edge. A chill runs through me as I drop, catching the edge in a panic. Us whips a tentacle skyward, wrapping around my wrist. It squeaks, dangling over the hells. I pull it up, cradling it in my arm.

The woman appears above me. She presses her boot to my fingers.

I grunt and lift Us back onto the ship.

She moves to strike Us as it skitters away.

I snatch her ankle and drag her down in a clatter of armor, then drag myself back onto the ship.

She rolls and regains her footing. Her sword bears down on me. I duck, then grab her wrist and pull her into me. "Enough! I swear on Bhaal's blood, if you strike me down, I will claw my way out of the hells and strangle you!"

She curls her nose. "Unhand me, thrall!"

I shove her back and she staggers but straightens quickly. We watch each other for a moment before she lowers her sword.

I sigh and roll onto my back. Heart hammering, breath heavy. Us totters onto my chest, tucking its legs in as it nestles. I place my hand on its... brain-body, feeling centered for one merciful moment.

She scoffs, and I glance up at her. Her arms are folded tightly. "You did not pull me into the hells."

"No..."

"Then perhaps you are not a mindless thrall. Merely mindless." She moves past me. "Once you are done sulking, we must move! Our odds of survival are greater together."

"What is your name?"

She turns back and lifts her chin with dignity. "Lae'zel, of Crèche K'liir."

Do I know my name? V-asha. Neels. No. Vash... Neel. "I'm Vash Neel."

...that felt wrong.

"I did not ask," she mutters.

We follow Us into a chamber with more pods lining the walls. Lae'zel and I scan the room, glancing at the shadows. A pod sits isolated and sealed with swirling runes.

"You!"

I stop.

"By the gods, get me out of here!"

My shoulders rise. She's encased, hands pressed against the door of the pod.

Doesn't seem ideal.

My tadpole hums as Us feeds me the schematics of the ship. My eyes narrow, and I get a visual of the room ahead. Several chests are anchored toward the back. My hand drags across my chest, and I briefly glance at the woman before moving.

"Wait, sir, please!" The sound of pounding fists follows me.

I stumble toward the chests and begin throwing open lids, rummage through endless piles of paraphernalia. I pull off my rags and slip into a tunic and trousers that seem clean enough.

Lae'zel runs up behind me and throws her hands in the air. "Are the people of this realm no better than beasts? Where are your clothes?"

I hop as I pull on a pair of boots. "Calm yourself." I notice a fold of dark wool among the detritus. I tug it free. The weight. The feel. My cloak. I bury my face in it, closing my eyes. It smells like smoke, road dust, and aged gore.

Yet, my mind is still a void.

Something lands on my foot. Beige ribbons coil on the ground. I throw my cloak over my shoulders and stoop to pick them up. As if by instinct I begin to wrap my hands, weaving the fabric between my fingers, and around my wrists.

I throw open the final chest and instantly get a whiff of linseed oil. My greatsword is sitting in a pile of random items, like a toy box for the damned.

I hold it up. The cold steel blade gleams blue in the ambient light. The hilt bears strange letters etched across it. I study the words. They're Infernal. Slowly, I recognize the message.

TENTATOR · TYRANNUS · TOTALITAS

I close my eyes, excavating the ruins of my mind. ...Paladin. I'm a Paladin. But what is the nature of my conviction? If I manage to survive, maybe I'll have the honor of finding out.

The moment my scabbard rests across my back, I feel a sense of wholeness. My breath settles and I turn back to Lae'zel. "Come." I brush past her.

She drops her arms, grunting. "Finally."

The trapped woman is pushing against the door of her pod. She's clad in dark mail with a mace strapped to her back. Her armor looks like it belongs to some holy order. A cleric? Another Paladin? The runes locking the pod can only mean one thing. This woman isn't just a victim, she's a prisoner.

Even better.

A vague smile crosses my face, and I tap on the glass lid. "Have you considered using your mace?"

"Bastard! This is no time for jokes!" She presses her hands against the door, palms white against the glass. "For gods' sake please, just... get me out of here."

The runes connect to a large console next to her pod. Seems like trouble. I fold my fingers under the lip of the door and pull. My legs strain and my palms ache. Something in the frame groans, buckles, and gives. The door swings open.

Thank the gods. I have no fucking idea what I'm doing.

I offer my hand and she takes it, climbing out of the pod. Her hands tremble lightly. "Thank you. That was decent of you."

"I am a decent man," I say, half certain.

A vague smile appears on her face. "For the record, I did try my mace. It merely bounced off the glass." She clutches a satchel at her side. "I'm Shadowheart."

"Vash Neel. This is Lae'zel."

"Do you have a plan on how to get out of here?" She ignores the gith.

"Yes, the helm is just ahead."

She seems to settle at that. "Good. Let's not waste any more time."

Us is resting at my feet. It squeaks. "To the helm!" The words resonate with all our tadpoles.

Lae'zel clutches her ears. "Out of my head, fiend!" She arms herself.

I step into her. "Lae'zel. That fiend is our map."

She stares at me, jaw tight, before sheathing her sword. "...Map?" she mutters, looking down at Us.

Us scuttles forward, tentacles alert.

There is a haze that fills the air from burning equipment scattered across the bridge. The acrid smoke chokes me, and my eyes begin to water. I blink, waving my hand in front of my face foolishly assuming that will help. I crouch next to Us and appraise the pandemonium through the ruin.

The last living Mind Flayer stands among its dead brethren, caught in a duel with a cambion. Toward the front of the bridge is the helm. A large mechanism with dangling tentacles. The illithid navigator lies skewered in a pool of silver blood beneath it. Dead.

"Gods!" Shadowheart coughs through her own words. "Where's the helm?"

"This way!" Lae'zel cries, charging forward.

I hold my breath and move. I can barely track Shadowheart and Lae'zel through the smoke, but Us remains at my side. The ship rattles again, and a pulsing heat charges me. A hellsboar, wild with fury. I use my foot to slide Us out of the way.

The boar drives itself into me. With a grunt, I catch its tusks. My boots slide across the ground as I lean into it. I stumble, but manage to pull my greatsword free. I cut a gash across the hellsboar's face. It squeals and bucks, throwing me off balance. I slam into the ground and my sword slides across the floor. The hellsboar shifts back as the ship tilts once again.

I crawl toward my sword. My fingers brush the edge of the hilt before I can grab hold of it. I roll to my back. The boar is charging once more. Conviction...

A chill rushes through me and I lose my breath, as if I were in the presence of death himself.

The world goes quiet.

Then a power rises from below and I am consumed by a dreadful divinity.

Whispers flood my mind.

I am witnessed.

The boar leaps. My sword strikes it, and a blink of red light blows us both back. The impact hammers my chest and my heart skips. The boar skids before falling still. Choked, I try to catch my breath, then slowly roll to my feet. I look at the blade in my hand. The whispers grow into screams. I kneel, and my fingers rest briefly in a pool of blood. The voices calm.

Shadowheart cries out. "Vash!" She points toward the cambion. "The sword!" The longsword he holds streaks the air with a hellish flame. Shadowheart casts a command to force the cambion to drop his weapon. It rushes through him. He staggers, but he does not relent.

I charge the devil.

The mind flayer unleashes a burst of psionic energy that rips through the cambion's mind. He falters, his eyes become vacant, and his arms fall, fingers loose on the hilt.

With another command, the sword falls from his grasp. I dive for it, snatching it out from under him.

"Lae'zel!" I hurl the sword toward her.

She's forced to make a decision. She makes the right one. Her longsword falls and she catches the hellsblade from the air. With one fluid motion she rends an imp cleanly.

There is a pause as she looks at her longsword on the ground. She steps over it, making her way toward the last of the hell beasts.

I push forward, staggering into the helm. A pulse of psionic power echoes in my mind.

"Connect the nerves."

Instructions plant themselves in me. I study the whipping tentacles and connect two, then pluck them.

Reality blinks and everything goes dark.

Nothing.

Slowly, the roar of rushing skies rises around me. The Hells' heat, red dragons, burning lakes, all gone. The cool air of Faerûn clears the bridge, but the damage to the ship is done. The nautiloid is going down. I grab the wheel and try to steer the ship into an even landing.

Turbulence throws me to the ground, and I slide across the floor. I reach for the hull's edge, bracing to catch myself.

My fingers slip and I drop into the open air.

They say a champion's death should be a grand climax to their life.

So, who am I?

Just another broken body, buried by the silt of time.

A man incapable of reflecting on his own life in his final moments.

How embarrassing.