Chpt 4. Nettie
Trigger Warning: Graphic Descriptions of Violence and Killing, Strangulation, Vivisection, Dismemberment, Scenes Involving Corpses and Playing with Corpses.
As we enter the chamber, I see two druids hovering over a small tiefling girl. They are holding her at bay with a Death Viper as they pass judgment for her supposed crime. My brain leaps with excitement as the thought crosses my mind. If the Death Viper were to strike, that would be a catalyst for rebellion between the refugees and the druids. The fall out would be a symphony of slaughter; there would be bodies everywhere. My heart dances at the very thought. I yearn for it as my blood begins to churn. Something in me lurches, a small voice through the tempest of evil... she's innocent. Her innocence is what makes her death so beautiful. I ponder the words once more. The good of my heart. It feels like heresy. I push through the roiling thoughts and refocus, "What is this girl's crimes?"
A woman with a bitchy face and even bitchier voice addresses me. "Girl? She stole our sacred idol! She's nothing by a parasite."
I snort. "You must be Kagha." I glance at the other druid standing next to her. He's wearing an antlered headdress and the ornate garbs of a higher-ranking druid. His mournful eyes speaks volumes to his character. He makes no move to rescue the girl, but he's not compliant as much as he is utterly spineless. Malleable.
The snake hisses into the girl's ear, an active threat to her life if she runs. I surge of irritation rises within me. Politics. Drama. This feckless spectacle is getting in my way, and I don't have time for it. I swiftly grab the snake by the throat while it's focused on the girl. I get a flash of recognition. I've dealt with Death Vipers before. But how? Where? The snake wraps its body around my arm, the tip of its tail quivers, a futile threat.
Kagha, startled by my actions, pulls out her scimitars and stands ready to fight. I catch a glint of doubt in her eyes, and I shake my fist at her, still gripping the snake, further demeaning her. "You deal with petty crimes like a spoiled toddler. Is this how you plan to lead? By wasting time bullying children? If she was clever enough to take your sacred idol, then the fault lies with you. Punishing her isn't going to make up for your failings as a leader, it serves only to make you look weaker than you already are."
Her expression twists into indignant rage. "How dare you!"
I ignore her tantrum and turn to the girl. My voice is stern but steady. "Go back to your parents, they're waiting for you just outside the sanctuary. If I hear you tried to come back, I'll deal with you myself." The girl nods, tears streaming down her face. She quickly scurries out of the chamber.
Kagha watches, stunned, everything moves too quickly and she's unable to gather her senses to interject. She finally regains her voice and scowls, voice slightly choked. "I invite you hear to speak to me about the matter of the refugees, and you disrespect me in front of my own circle!"
My voice rises in anger, it echoes through the chamber, pointed and commanding. "I give respect to those who've earned it. You've proven yourself an ineffectual leader with this bit of theater. There are things we waste our time on when people are relying on us; this is not one of them."
She takes a step back; her face twisted in disdain. I reach my hand out to her and release the snake. The only thing that is broken is its pride.
Kagha holds out her arm, "Ssifisv, Teela to me." Teela quickly slithers from my hand to hers. "I must protect my people. I cannot have urchins flooding into the ritual area while the Rite of Thorns is underway."
I scoff, watching her stubborn confidence. "You've created a desperate situation for them, and desperate people tend to act out when they feel they have nothing left to lose. It's so bad, you have children trying to defend their parents." I try to let that sink in, but it's an idea that she doesn't have room for in her two fucking braincells.
An idea sparks in Kagha's eyes. "Someone needs to give them hope. An effective fighter such as yourself! Speak to Zevlor, tell him you will join his caravan and help lead the people away from here. You can be the hero that saves your kin, as is your duty. One way or another, they will be gone before final prayer."
I register the threat; she is willing to kill them all if it means she can complete the Rite of Thorns. A fantastically stupid plan. She doesn't seem to realize she is the most imminent existential threat to their safety. Killing her would be the easiest way to protect them. There's no way I could get my new companions behind a fight like that right now, we're all too weak. Still, I allow my mind to drift, looking at the large sacred murals donning the walls above placid sanctuary pools. What a sight it would be to see them drenched in druid blood and decorated with Kagha's gore. My skin begins to tingle, and my fingers start to twitch. I try to dismiss the thoughts by leaning into my needs. "I am looking for your healer, Nettie."
Kagha gestures eagerly towards a chamber door. "She's in the library. If you are injured, she can help. Seek her aid if you need. As long as you and the outlanders go."
I give a short polite nod and follow Kagha's direction. I know helping these people is an honor, and my duty as a Paladin. It's the right thing to do, out of the good of my heart. Despite my efforts, my good heart hasn't found two shits to give. I keep going through the motions, waiting for it to happen. I wonder if it ever will.
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 lightning, Nettie lunges at me with the branch. Snatching her wrist, I lift her by the offending arm and squeeze until she flinches and drops the thorns. My eyes are flat, and I feel empty as her kicking feet gently jostles me.
"Uch! Let me go! You've made your point!" Her pleading is edged with frustration.
I watch her face as she reaches for my hand, picking at it, trying to get me to relent. Trapped like a rabbit in a snare. She begins frantically chanting, fear washing over her. She's trying to cast a spell. I snap my hand around her throat.
"No speaking."
The voice that hisses from my lips is something else, a hungry man, waking after eons of slumber. Searching. Desperate to be fed.
I crush with a vice grip that feels comforting, and familiar. I let go of her arm and she claws at my hand in desperation, chest heaving as the privilege of breathing is taken away. I savor the feeling of her neck compressing with the graduating pressure. Soft tissue stretching, cartilage bending, bones buckling.
Her face quickly turns blue as the veins and arteries are compressed. Internal and external jugular, carotid artery. Blood is pooling in her head with no escape. You can kill someone in less than 5 minutes, if the circulation in the neck is severed correctly. Her swelling tongue protrudes from her mouth; teeth cutting into it, causing blood to sputter from her mouth and dribble onto my hand. Her eyes bulge. 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 as her body goes limp. She becomes my little ragdoll. I can't help but chuckle as I jiggle her back and forth, watching her gelatinous form sway. A most beautiful undoing, though I can't help but wonder, was I truly a doctor? No. I had to be something far more profane. My soul surges with purpose and pride as a whisper lingers in my mind: Kill again. Kill again. Again.
Interesting. I still have the damn tadpole in my skull. I take the circlet from Nettie's ruined head and look around the library. I don't know how I'm going to explain the literal blood on my hands. Sticky and warm. The prospect of facing my new companions is far from ideal. I spot a stone wall with the same grooves as the entry way to this library. With luck, it's another door. I cast a spark of magic from the circlet and sure enough it opens. Praise Tymora. I peer inside to see a corridor; booby trapped with a gaseous vent in the floor. The door at the far end is shut, surely I can get out this way.
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! You have my gratitude! I thought I was a goner!"
I give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, "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."
My face falls 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. Who do I owe the grace of my rescue?"
"Vash Neel, and you?" Useless introductions.
His shoulders relax, and he gives an exhale. "Findal."
"What did the goblins want with you, Findal? 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 Selûne." 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 frantically, her eyes resting on her dead brothers, and snapping back to me. Disbelief and abject fear plagues her face. She bolts, headed for the goblin camp no doubt. 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.