Content Warning: Graphic violence, body horror, medical gore, vivisection, brain injury, parasitic infection, mind control, intrusive thoughts, psychological distress, dissociation, implied sexual arousal linked to violence, torture, creature cruelty, character death, religious themes, blasphemy, extreme violence, graphic depictions of injury.

My eyes snap open with a sharp gasp for air, my lungs aching and hungry.

A great roar envelops me, flooding every corner of my mind.

The world quakes.

I can barely see, surrounded by blurs of red and pink, and a white-hot pain splits my face.

I double over. My head cracks into something unyielding. The sound of the collision thrums in the air around me. I reach out, pressing against a surface that bends around me.

This is a vessel, and I'm inside.

My breath quickens as I feel the walls for an escape.

Nothing.

There is a warped glass lid in front of me. I press my back firmly against the pod and plant my foot on the glass, pressing until my bones ache. It doesn't budge. In frustration, I punch the door, but my outburst only serves to split my knuckles open.

I press my hands against the blood-smeared door and cry out. There is a cutting pain in my throat, and the sound of my wordless screams resonates back into my ears. A punishment. Waking only to be a witness to my demise!

...

The moment grows quiet.

Just beyond the warped glass, I recognize something. A pool of caustic fluid, cracked and spilling out. Illithid parasites writhe and die on the ground. Doomed without a host.

Tadpoles.

A memory comes into focus.

I have the key. I've had the key.
There is a worm behind my eye.

The churning of my stomach finally overwhelms me, and I dry heave, with nothing in my stomach to bring forth.
"Gods..."
My voice shakes, a hoarse whimper, like I haven't spoken in a century.

I have no time to pander to my disgust. I choke it down and close my eyes, focusing on the creature in my skull. My thoughts chase the sensation of its echoed memories like a hound on a hair. The resonance of our minds finally connects and I give the command.
Release.

It squeals and wriggles with pleasure, sending out a psionic pulse.

The door shifts open and I drop out, clinging to the ground, breath heavy. I cough and gag as spittle slides from my lips. My arms tremble, trying to support the weight of my body.

A rush of hot sulfuric air blows my hair into my face, and the blank slate of my mind unveils a single word. Tiefling. I sharply inhale and grip my horns, clinging to them as if they'd only existed in a fleeting dream.

Thank the gods. I'm a tiefling.

I rake my hair back between my horns and gain my footing.

I need to figure out what's going on...

I...

What is this place?

Why does it feel so damned familiar?

I stumble past the brine pool toward a strange sphincter. A profane door no doubt. My limbs are stiff and uncooperative, even my tail is fighting me, but the door squelches open and I stagger into a laboratory.

Alien atriums and stone tables are scattered throughout the chamber. I pick up a tablet and in an instant my mind is flooded with images of goblin history and culture. I know it all in an instant. My eyes go wide and I look around frantically, seeing a pile of tablets on a table at the far end of the chamber.

Knowledge is a violent weapon to hold.

As I make my way, something batters the ship and the tablets slide from the table out into an open corridor. With horror, I see the burning lakes of Avernus beckoning below. I lunge forward, only managing to grab one before the rest are lost to the hells.

The habits and history of the illithid race are instantly written into my mind.
But I knew about illithids. Why the hells did I know about illithids?

Gods. I'm hurtling through Avernus on an illithid warship! A fucking Nautiloid.

I need to move.

A rippling sensation tugs at my consciousness and tries to hijack my mind. A burning fury rises, until I recognize it. An Intellect Devourer, an illithid thrall. Its thoughts echo in my mind, as if I've heard its words before they were spoken.

"Help Us!"

I climb to my feet and scan the chamber, sending a query back from my mind. "Where are you?" The tadpole in my brain writhes with pleasure and I gag and grip my knees.

"Chair. Hurry!"

Gathering myself, I see the aforementioned chair is on a platform just above me. I climb broken pieces of hull only to find the twitching body of a man strapped firmly into the seat. His eyes are shifting and possessed, skull cap removed. Abandoned mid-craniotomy.

His brain squeals and shivers inside his skull. "Savior! Please release me!"

My eyes travel over the exposed brain, and I plot the extraction. Swelling due to edema. The damned thing should have been removed hours ago. With no tools nearby, I improvise, 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 disoriented up until this point, but this vivisection has unlocked something profane in my heart. A voice hisses in my ears. C-crush. Cripple. Kill...

My fingers twitch as I look at my new friend. I quickly set it down; the impulse to tear it apart is unbearably compelling, but I need this creature.

"Can you navigate the ship?" My voice is starting to dip into a familiar soothing lull.

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?"

Its thoughts echo in my mind once again. "They are calling. Come with me. We must go to the helm."

I gesture onward. "Lead the way, friend. What do I call you?"

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; the ship is under attack by Gith raiders. Of course. The githyanki and illithids have been enemies for centuries.

I gather Us into my arms and leap onto the main floor. My ankles are battered by the force of the landing, but I manage to dash over to the open corridor and duck behind a wall.

In a moment of reprieve, I sprint across. To my left there is nothing but open sky and it tugs at me, a siren of my ruin. I propel myself forward with every bit of strength I have.

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. "Thrall! Your day has come!"

The young warrior holds her ground with impressive zeal. I lock eyes with her. I'm unarmed and unarmored. But she's half my size, and still very green. Pun intended.

I'm going to go through her.

Her jaw tenses. She swings, nimble and precise. Through Tymora's grace, I barely dodge. I stumble forward, lowering my head and catching her on my shoulder.

She snarls and flails. "Istik! Put me down!"

In that moment we hear a roar, and a burst of flames erupts behind us, biting at my heels.

I launch myself into the air to dodge the heat, landing hard on the chitinous ground. The warrior and Us go sliding out of my arms. The momentum has us careening toward a wide crack in the floor.

Us and I slip over the edge, and a chill runs through me as I feel myself drop. I catch the edge in a panic and reach out to snatch Us. It whips a tentacle skyward, and clings to me, mercifully. Us squeaks as it dangles over the hells. I pull it up, cradling it in my arm. Last thing I need is to lose my map.

The woman appears above us. I hold up Us toward her and she recoils. "I will not be handling that abomination!"

I grunt and begin to shake, feeling my hand slipping. "I swear on Bhaal's blood, if I fall because you won't take this brain, I will crawl my way out of the hells and strangle you!"

She stares at me and then curls her nose in disgust, gingerly taking Us from me. My arm free, I grip the edge and drag my carcass to safety.

I roll onto my back, breath heavy, arms and shoulders aching from the strain. Us leaps from the woman's hands and totters onto my chest, tucking its legs under it. I place my hand on its... brain-body, feeling centered for the briefest moment amid this chaos.

I hear a sigh and glance up at the woman. She sneers. "So, you are no thrall. Then we must stick together if we are to survive."

"What is your name?" I say, still catching my breathless.

"My name?" She lifts her chin with an air of dignity. "My name is Lae'zel, of Creche K'liir."

Do I know my name? Since waking two names have thrummed in my mind. Vasha. Neels. No. Vash... Neel? Y-yes. "I'm Vash Neel." Saying it out loud feels like I'm reclaiming another piece of myself. It's jarring how little I know about myself.

A shriek pierces the calm. Three imps charge us. Hells' vermin come to feed on corpses only to find fresher meat. Us. I mean... us.

I grunt as I get to my feet, and Us leaps from me, immediately swiping one of the imps with a gelatinous fury.

Lae'zel's battle cry is followed by her blade. It catches an imp on its razor's edge, splitting the bastard in two.

The imp meat flies in my direction. I dodge it, only to be hit in the chest by the last charging imp. Clawing, scratching, screaming.

I pry its wings from its body. Something awakens within me. My mouth waters, and I trap the screaming creature in my grip, tearing its head from its body.

With a lacerating swipe, Us drops the imp that had been assaulting it. I pin it to the ground with my foot and press until it ruptures. A faint crackling drives up the base of my tail into the back of my neck. Screams fade into blessed silence. I'm lost in the pleasures of death.

I don't notice Lae'zel come up behind me. "Enough playing, Istik, our time runs short!"

I blink and take a sharp breath in, reorienting myself. "Apologies." I rake my hair back into place once more.

She thumbs through the pockets of a corpse and gathers a few daggers. She hands them to me. "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.

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. 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 sends 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 I pass.

The chest sits bolted to 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 glaze over as another memory bites at me. The smell of rotting flesh. A man's voice, cracked and shouting. "Get him out!" My belongings thrown into this very chest. I throw off my stinking rags and dig into the chest.

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, and she quickly turns her back to me. "Whatever it is you are doing, do it quickly!" She waves her hand at me impatiently.

I dig into the chest, throwing on my clothes. Dark trousers and tunic, belted into place. Hand wraps made of red linen, laced through my fingers and around my wrists. Wrapping my hands is muscle memory. A pile of woolen broadcloth lies in a pile beneath it all.

My cloak.

I snatch it and bury my face into the cloth, taking a deep inhale. Scent is tied so inextricably to memory. I close my eyes. It smells of road dust and the vague ichor of aged gore.

Something clatters free from my cloak. It hits my boot and slides onto the ground. My greatsword. A new smell wafts up and strikes me like a hammer.

Linseed oil.

Paladin.

I'm a Paladin. But what is the nature of my oath?

If I manage to survive beyond today, maybe I'll have the honor of finding out.

I strap my greatsword to my back, adjusting my hood. "Come." I brush past Lae'zel.

She drops her arms, grunting. "Finally."

Us scuttles dutifully behind me.

I quickly make my way to the woman in the pod. She's doubled over, fists feebly pounding on the door of the pod. Her resolve worn thin by her predicament. Her panic has waned, having settled into exhausted sobbing. "P-please!"

I scan her. Dark mail. Mace. Her armor looks like it belongs to some holy order. A cleric? Another Paladin? Either way, she's another warrior.

My mind chases my tadpole's resonance, finally beckoning it to attune to the console. My harmony with the mechanism is tenuous, and I move quickly, forcing my will into the warding runes. My connection begins to slip, so with one final push, I shatter the hold on the woman's pod.

It's a miracle it worked, I have no fucking idea what I'm doing.

She matches my gaze, her eyes glistening with tears that have yet to fall. It dawns on me that this woman wasn't just a victim; she was a prisoner.

Even better.

I give the command and the lid slides open. She collapses in front of me, panicked and shaking.

Lae'zel and I give her space. I offer my hand and she takes it, carefully climbing to her feet. She steadies herself, wiping her face clean as best as possible. "I thought... I thought I was lying in my coffin."

My lips straighten. "A truly horrifying dilemma."

She looks at me and nods silently, another latent tear tumbling down her cheek. "Thank you for your rescue, but we're not out of the woods 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 and glance at Lae'zel, before turning back to the woman. "Come with us. 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, ready to strike.

I step into her. "If you make me choose between you and the map, I'll choose the map."

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

I turn to Us, holding out my hand. "Lead the way."

Us scuttles ahead, tentacles alert.

The bridge. We've made it, and it's utter pandemonium.

Hellsboar and imps are scattered across the room, while the last living Mind Flayer stands among its dead brethren, caught in a duel with a large Cambion. At the very back of the bridge is the helm. A large mechanism connected to whipping tentacles which float haplessly, waiting for direction. A wheel with no captain, and the illithid navigator lying skewered in a pool of silver blood beneath it all.

Lae'zel growls and draws her sword, while Us braces itself next to her. They charge headlong into battle, steel and claws swinging with purpose.

Before I can think, I'm armed and ready. I feel the grip of the greatsword in my hands, the leather creaks, and the smell of weathered steel saturates me. Something rises within me, and one word pushes into my mind and drowns out everything else.

Kill.

A hellsboar charges me with fury. Tusks flailing, molten skin seething. I crack the beast in the face with the edge of my blade. It squeals and bucks, tossing its head trying to regain its footing. It darts at me once more, but I'm able to dodge it.

It's going to take far too long to bludgeon this damned thing to death. But what do I have?

No conviction. No God.

I need to test myself. Call on whatever powers I once had. If my strength came from conviction, I'll find nothing. If it came from a god... may they be merciful enough to answer me again.

I calm my mind among the madness, and focus.

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.

I am less than nothing.

Then a surge of power rises from below and fills my blood with something wild and acrid. Whispers in my head rise and grow into a beckoning mania. I cry out and grip my head. All thought lost among the surging voices. The crackling sensation that had coursed through my spine now fills me with a dreadful divinity.

By the gods... what have I done.

I have become something else. Bloodthirsty, feral, and unleashed.

My hand, guided by a new instinct, cracks my greatsword down onto the hellsboar's skull. It erupts with a red light that nearly knocks me off my feet. Static snaps surge through the air as the creature collapses and slides to a halt.

My heart is racing, and my body is filled with a quaking pleasure.

I must anoint my soul with the blood blessing of my victims.

Kill, and kill again.

Shadowheart's voice slaps me back into my senses. "Vash!" She points toward the cambion. "The sword!"

The long sword he clutches streaks the air with a hellish flame.

An asset.

I rush the devil and hear Shadowheart cast a spell, commanding the devil to drop his sword, but he holds fast. The mind flayer unleashes a burst of psionic energy that rips through the cambion's mind. He staggers, disoriented and looking sickened.

Shadowheart speaks the command once more. The sword drops from his hand and I dive for it. As he staggers, he kicks it across the floor. I lunge forward, tailed by an imp. It dives for me, screaming wildly. I duck and grab the sword, cutting deep into the imp's head. The blade cauterizes, and the creature drops, bloodlessly.

I search for the Gith, spotting her across the chamber. "Lae'zel!"

She 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 sword and snatching the hells' blade from the air. With one fluid motion she swings at an imp and rends it cleanly.

There is a breath, and Lae'zel stands, looking down at the smoking corpse below her. Her gaze shifts to her githyanki long sword on the ground and a quiet mourning overcomes her. She quickly regains her composure and steps over it, moving in on the final hellsboar.

I begin to run once again. 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 hear slapping as the cambion continues to fight the mind flayer, bare-fisted.

I quickly connect the tentacles of the helm 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 Faerûn kisses my skin, 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 brace myself and reach to catch myself on the hull's edge.

My fingers brush past.

I slip into a free fall.

What?

That isn't supposed to happen.

That's not how the stories go.

Death should be a grand climax to 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.

I am irrelevant.

How embarrassing.