Breathe. It's finally done.
I’m finally going to get a decent fucking nights sleep.

Shoulders shift with a sour ache. The smell of acid and flesh hangs in the air.

A hum grows into a roar. The world rattles.

A dim red glow seeps through warped glass.

Something writhes behind my eye. Bending. Slipping. …alive.

I retch. My head cracks into something unyielding. My wet palms slide across it, feeling it bend around me. My back hits the surface as I press my foot against the glass until my bones ache. My teeth nearly break from clenching.

It doesn't budge.

I punch it. My knuckles split.

I lean my forehead against the glass. My breath fogs it. 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 I-

No.

I press my fingers over my eye.

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.

I'm not asking for much. I just want the door to open.

The tadpole shifts with a profane squelching in my head. I press my hands over my face as my shoulders coil. "Stop..." My voice is muffled behind my palms.

A psionic energy pulses from it and the door shifts. I slip out onto the 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 chitinous tables.

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

Knowledge is a violent weapon to hold.

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.

I need to commandeer this ship.

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

A phrase echos through my mind. Not my own. "Help Us!"

Us? I scan the shadows before hearing a slurred voice.
"Hhhelp. Mmeee."

The voice comes from behind. Pieces of broken hull lead up to a platform, where a man lies slumped and twitching. Abandoned mid vivisection. His brain is exposed. It quivers inside his skull, another message into my mind. "Savior! Please free Us!"

Thank the Gods. 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. Then my hands stiffen. Claws curl inward, biting into its flesh. The image of its torn body pushes to the front of my mind. My mouth has gone dry. I quickly drop it.

It lands like a tortoise on its back, sprouting four fleshy legs with padded skin-paws. It rights itself and pauses.

"Can you..." I clear my throat. "Can you take me to the helm?"

"They are calling. Follow Us!"

"Us. Is that your name?"

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!"

A red dragon screams past as it assaults the ship. 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 wall to the corridor has been blown away, leaving the open skies of Avernus beckoning to me.

As the next chamber draws near, I am waylaid by a Githyanki woman in a flash of silver armor. She lands cleanly in front of me, her sword held high, her voice barely masking the rising panic within her.

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

Our eyes lock as I continue to charge. She's half my size, and still very green. Pun intended. Her jaw tenses but she holds her ground. She swings, nimble and precise, but through Tymora's grace she misses, allowing me to catch her on my shoulder.

"Istik! Put me down!" She says with a cold snarl.

Flames erupt behind us with a roar as a dragon darts past. The heat bites at my heels. I lunge forward, landing hard on the chitinous ground. 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. "You are not a thrall."

"No." I grunt and hold up Us.

She recoils. "I will not be handling that abomination!"

My hand begins to slip. "I swear on Bhaal's blood! If I fall because of you, I will claw my way out of the hells and strangle you!"

She stares at me and curls her nose, before barely taking Us.

I drag my carcass to safety, rolling onto my back. Heart hammering, breath heavy. Us leaps from the woman's hands and 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.

I hear a sigh and glance up at the woman. Her arms are folded tightly. "When you are done sulking, we must move! Our odds of survival are greater together." She lifts her chin with an air of dignity. "Call me Lae'zel, of Creche K'liir."

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

...that felt wrong.

Before I have a chance to reflect, I see movement. With a shriek, three imps glide onto the ship. Hells' vermin come to feed on corpses only to find fresher meat. Us. I mean... us. I grunt and get to my feet. Us leaps from me, immediately swiping one of the imps with a gelatinous fury.

I steady myself, head swimming. An imp slams into my chest. Its scream splits my ears. My hands move. Twisting. A soft pop. The chaos goes still as I stare down at the small creature, limp in my arms. It's head dangles loose. I breathe heavy out my nose.

Us slaps an imp out of the air. I pin the fiend beneath my heel and my vision narrows as I press until it falls still.

"Enough playing, Istik, our time runs short!" Lae'zel's voice cuts through my focus.

I blink and take a sharp breath in. "Apologies." I murmur, nudging the body through the crack in the floor.

She thumbs through the pockets of a corpse and gathers a few daggers, handing them to me. "Perhaps now that you're armed, you'll remain focused."

The weight of the blades in my hands. Another uncanny memory.

She moves and we follow.

We enter a chamber with more pods lining the walls. The moment we enter a panicked voice echoes from a pod, followed by heavy pounding. A woman is awake and trapped. I approach her, and her panic seems to rise. I watch her for a moment and a chill rushes through me. I grip my elbows.

Doesn't seem ideal.

Us feeds me the schematics of the ship. The helm is to the right, but the chamber ahead has several chests, anchored near more pods. I drag my hands across my chest, tugging at my rags. The resonant screams of the woman become shrill as I pass her.

The chests line the back of the chamber. I stumble toward them and begin throwing open lids, rummaging through endless piles of paraphernalia. I find trousers and a tunic that look clean enough. I pull off my rags.

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

I glance back at her briefly, slipping a foot through a trouser leg. I fasten the buckle and noticing a fold of dark wool among the detritus. I tug it free. The weight. The feel. My cloak. I bury my face in it, taking a deep inhale, closing my eyes. It smells of road dust and aged gore.

My eyes glaze over as another memory bites at me. Aged gore. Bright lights over a surgical table. A man's voice cracked and shouting. "Get him out!"

Fair.

Something lands on my foot. Beige ribbons coil on the ground. I stoop and pick them up. As if by instinct I begin to wrap my hands, weaving them between my fingers and around my wrists. Muscle memory. 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 toybox for the damned.

I hold it up. The cool steel blade gleams blue in the ambient light of the ship.

...Paladin. I'm a Paladin. But what is the nature of my oath? 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 my eyes close briefly before turning back to Lae'zel. "Come." I brush past her.

She drops her arms, grunting. "Finally."

Us scuttles dutifully behind me.

The screams of the woman in the pod have settled into quiet sobs as I approach her enclosure. She's doubled over, fists feebly pounding on the lid. The Weave swirls around the pod unlike any other.

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? It dawns on me that the swirling Weave is a magical seal. 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 tried using your mace?"

She looks up, eyes red, tears streaking her cheeks. Her palms press, skin white from the pressure. "For gods sake just please... get me out of here."

I idly search the area, seeing a large console next to her pod. On instinct I reach out with the Weave to quieten the surge. The runes vanish and I focus on my tadpole. With a writhing behind my eye, the command is sent. The door shifts and she collapses, exhausted and shaking.

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

Lae'zel stands over her. "Such dramatics for someone who wields such a brutish weapon."

I offer the woman my hand. She takes it, carefully climbing to her feet. "I tried my mace. It didn't even scratch the glass."

My lips straighten. "A truly horrifying dilemma."

She gives an empty laugh, wiping her cheeks clean. "Thank you for the rescue. Although it is strange." She stares at Lae'zel and she pauses before turning to me. "Do you have a plan on how to get out of here?"

"I'm working on commandeering the ship."

Lae'zel chimes in, impatient. "Yes! We must find the helm!"

The woman continues to ignore Lae'zel. "A lofty goal but it may be our only hope at this point."

"Come. The helm is close. I'm Vash Neel."

Her face softens, and I think I see a vague smile. "Shadowheart."

Us squeaks with finality. "To the helm!" The words resonate with all our tadpoles.

Lae'zel clutches her ears. "Out of my head, fiend!" She arms herself, measuring the distance between her and Us.

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

She stares at me, jaw clenched, teeth grinding. She finally sheaths her sword. "...Map?" She mutters, looking down at Us.

I turn to Us. "Go ahead."

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 me. 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 large cambion. Toward the front of the bridge is the helm. A large mechanism hosting myriad tentacles that float haplessly, waiting for direction. The illithid navigator lies skewered in a pool of silver blood beneath it.

"Gods!" I hear Shadowheart cough 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 across the floor, out of the hellsboar's way.

It meets me with reckless abandon. With a grunt, I catch its tusks before the drive into my belly. It drives me back, my boots sliding across the ground as I lean into it. I try to keep my footing, grabbing for the hilt of my greatsword. I woke up naught 1 hour ago. I'm shaken and weary, and I feel my fucking grip slipping.

I manage to pull it free and crack it across the face with my blade. 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'm a damned paladin, but I do not remember my conviction. What does that make me? Nothing but a squire with a big sword. I steady my mind and close my eyes. I pray that if I had a God, they answer my call now. A chill rushes through me and I lose my breath. Utterly drained of my essence, as if I death itself has come to tally my soul.

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 hellsboar charges once again. My dagger comes free and splits its face with a sacred reckoning. It crumbles. Hapless and still.

I breathe and look at the blade in my hand. Screams rise in my mind. My fingers resting in a pool of blood. A sense of peace at last... I tuck my dagger into my cloak and collect my greatsword.

Shadowheart chokes out a cry. "Vash!" She points toward the cambion. "The sword!" The long sword he clutches streaks the air with a hellish flame. "Drop." Shadowheart casts a commanding spell, but it rushes through the cambion, staggering him, but he does not relent.

I rush 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.

"Drop!" He relinquishes the weapon. It lands with a clatter and 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 snatches the hells' blade 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 final barrage of hell beasts.

I push forward, slamming into the helm. A pulse of psionic power echoes simple instructions.

"Connect the nerves."

I connect the whipping tentacles and pluck them.

Reality blinks and everything goes dark.

There is nothing.

Slowly, the roar of rushing skies fades back into my mind. Hells' heat, red dragons, burning lakes, 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.