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He felt particularly exposed like this, what with his robe short enough to reveal much of his inner thigh, covered in coarse dark hair. He felt a hand reach out to trail its way up his aforementioned inner thigh, brushing over his pelvis and settling a centimetre or two above the base of his cock. |
He would be lying if he said it did not feel great to watch the Chosen of Bhaal get down on his knees in front of him. Scion raised his hands to grasp at something, anything, eventually landing at the subtle layer of fat that had gathered on Gortash’s belly in recent years, sharp nails piercing his skin. |
He lifted one hand, reaching out towards one of the tiefling’s curved horns, grasping it tightly to guide his head around. If he minded it, there was no indication. |
Enver considered for a moment that maybe letting a murderous cult leader anywhere near his genitals would prove to be a horrible mistake, but it certainly was thrilling. |
Flamerule 20, 1490DR |
Moonrise Towers was every bit as grand as Ketheric had described in his letters and, worryingly, a testament to his ever-shifting faith. The Scion’s thoughts were his own most of the time, and if he were plain, he did not trust Ketheric. |
The man was impressive – a great general if judged from his past history – but his only allegiance was to that damned daughter of his, not to the dead three. If the Scion had been in charge, they would have kept her as leverage for much longer, until their plans had been fulfilled and he could tear the world from its r... |
But he should not question the will of Father; if Ketheric was the final person The Dead Three wanted to help fulfil their plot, they would have him. |
Besides, the gift they had gotten from him in the form of the towers was a great one, moreso what lay below it. The Scion did not know much about illithids outside of general lore, but the colony that had evidently formed under the towers brimmed with such potential that it nearly brought a tear to his eye. |
When they first had been brought below, into the oubliette, Gortash had been stunned by its beauty as well, he had noticed. The stench had been foul, a mix of rot, urine, and blood; by the Dread Lord, it was magnificent. His body grew hot at the prospect of the people they would infect down here, turning them into the ... |
Moonrise Towers had been empty, save for the three chosen and a handful of Myrkulites, devoted to Ketheric’s cause, though they mostly dwelled in the colony below. Each step taken in the halls of the tower above echoed across the entire floor. Soon they would be filled with thralls for their cause– their perfect, obedi... |
The area around the towers left much to be desired for Scion’s base urges, though. Void of life, completely barren, he had to settle for killing Sceleritas twice in one day just to avoid accidentally gutting one of Ketheric’s devotees out of frustration. |
Gortash had clearly taken note of it, allowing Scion to wrap both hands around his throat and squeeze as he fucked the tiefling. |
He shall make such a beautiful corpse, |
once the time comes and we both greet Fathers beautiful obliteration. |
The dread world would be no more, and them along with it. In death the two would be united, their bodies reclaimed by the very world they would soon destroy. |
Of course he did not squeeze hard enough in an actual attempt on Gortash’s life, but it was arousing to watch the man above him beginning to slip out of consciousness as he fucked into the tiefling. The man had will and determination – but he should hardly be surprised given all he knew of him. |
Ketheric had called them both downstairs to yell at them not long after, evidently eager to get the two out of the towers he had spent the last century moping in. |
Eleasias 29, 1490DR |
As soon as they had returned back to Baldur’s Gate, Gortash and Scion had fallen into a routine of sorts, as strange as that word was for two people like them. Scion had recently made a habit of coming by for a visit after particularly gruesome kills, to spend pent up energy leftover from the raw euphoria of murder. |
On the worst of days, though that phrasing could be construed as subjective, he wouldn’t even bother to wash the blood off of him. He supposed the fact he was beginning to find it attractive was unbecoming of him, but who was here to judge? The tiefling felt up the other man, leaving behind smudged, bloody handprints o... |
How Scion dealt with that energy prior to his nightly trysts with Gortash he did not know, nor did he wish to know. He supposed a being crafted from Bhaal’s dead flesh would have more... unsavoury habits but then again, didn’t everyone? |
They didn’t speak much of the plan after it had been laid in stone during their visit to Moonrise Towers. There had been propaganda printed for months already, ever since the prototypes of the Steel Watch had been made public. Then, The Scion would send his assassins out to cause panic in the streets little by little, ... |
control. Hah! |
Gortash couldn’t help but wonder what the public would think if they knew the man that promised to deliver them from the murders soon to happen in the streets was in bed with the very man behind them. He laughed to himself. |
Eleint 7, 1490DR |
The Scion’s hands were abuzz, his vile blood pumping through his veins and leaving his fingertips shaking, the raw urge to kill had not left him in weeks – ever since they returned from Moonrise. Father loved him surely, otherwise this blessing would not have been bestowed upon him. The others in the temple all murdere... |
they could have a purpose to serve. |
Father’s temple had not been this loved in years, initiates gathered around him in holy prayer as Scion dug through a barely lucid man's organs, pulling them out to place neatly on the altar in front of him. It was the first time in memory that Sceleritas had been set to clean the excessive amounts of blood from the fl... |
As his holy sermon concluded, he retreated to his chambers once more. He spoke with Father often, these days – though it was not much in the way of conversation. He knew He did not approve of his relations with Gortash, and he begged forgiveness most every night; offered his blood in penance as it dripped onto the ston... |
"Forgive me, Father, for I cannot help but admire the Chosen of your sworn foe. Father, you created me to be the last soul alive. I will slaughter Gortash upon your altar, where I myself hope to die when the world itself is gasping its last." He prayed to Bhaal’s image, carved into the wall, suppressing his shaking fin... |
"I will make you proud," He stated plainly, but he did not know if it was for his own reassurance, or Father’s. |
Eleint 16, 1490DR |
Flymm’s Cobbler was still as much of a dilapidated ruin as it had been years prior. Gortash figured a part of him had hoped to feel better about his parents" humble standing now, contrasted to his own. But for some reason the spite forming in him didn’t seem to die down. Years of misery on his part, spent to save this ... |
He contemplated going in, like many times before. Go inside to give his parents a piece of his mind, to gloat in all he had achieved while they still crawled around in dirt. There were times he had considered killing both, perhaps he would walk behind the store, into the workshop and grab a hammer to crack open their s... |
But fate had greater plans for them both than a simple death. They would suffer tenfold for what they had done to him. The plan was complete and pending execution, in the coming months they would start infecting people, his parents among the first, obviously. And then, his parents would not even have the mind to |
they were dead. |
The perfect revenge he had unknowingly saved until now, in a way. A dish best served cold – and by the Black Hand’s will, he would savour its taste. |
Marpenoth ?, 1490DR |
Bhaal’s Scion first registered blood pooling over his face and into his eyes before he even felt the blow. Then – a pounding heat from his cranium, deafening him with ringing. He turned back, facing his attacker and was met with pale eyes and an intense smile. Orin. That |
In hindsight he should have known, seen it coming even. Orin had always had her own smaller following within the cult (though he had figured it was just her collection of desperate stray women who she had sex with, nothing more). But nothing like this. Did she seriously believe this little rebellion would end well for ... |
would usurp him? |
Blood pounded in his ears as he reached out for Orins neck, but the shock of the initial blow had left him slow, weak, and it wasn’t long before the second blow hit him and he collapsed to the floor, face down into the soft flesh-like floor of the illithid colony. |
He blinked in an effort to clear his eyes, yet the red stains did not cease as he turned his gaze upwards to the changeling. Did she seriously believe she knew Fathers will better than him? That the Scion would not get his due someday? That she could steal his glory now, so close to the reckoning? He had practically or... |
Fathers love had not saved him, in the end. |
She awoke. There was only the throbbing of her blood pounding in her head and the distinct feeling that she was in danger. The memory of that disgusting wriggling tadpole being placed behind her eye slid across her mind. She fought rising bile as the creature squirmed in response. Beyond that there was... nothing. Reac... |
Her eyes fluttered open slowly. She immediately clenched them shut again with a curse. Why was it so bright? She opened her eyes again, more slowly. The sun was high in the cloudless blue sky, shining bright enough to blind. She was flat on her back, and from the dull ache across her shoulder blades and in her tail bon... |
Interesting she thought. |
She observed her surroundings. She was on a sandy beach, with water gently lapping at the shoreline. She appeared to be alone. There was wreckage nearby however, and strange alien-looking debris littered the sand. |
The mindflayer ship she recalled. That was where any memory at all began. Her first memory was gazing into the disgusting many-toothed maw of the writhing tadpole as it hung mere inches from her eye. Then there had been pain, fear, then nothing. She had awoken in a mindflayer pod as its door opened and she had fallen o... |
With her jaw set, she pushed herself to her feet, tucking a strand of white hair behind her ear that had escaped from a long braid that fell to her waist. She checked over herself, she was covered in blood but not her own judging by her lack of injuries. She wore a black silken robe adorned with silver chains and embro... |
She began to pick her way along the shoreline. Bodies littered the sands. Rifling through abandoned bags and backpacks she was able to find a clean pale grey hooded robe and threw it on over her revealing dress. She had a feeling her previous attire would draw unwanted attention, not merely by its immodesty, but its ri... |
She felt a wave of repulsion. What is wrong with me? With a worrying amount of difficulty, she dragged her attention from the body and stumbled away from it, the pounding in her head a cacophony. Grimacing, she followed a path sloping upwards away from the beach. Wreckage from the Mindflayer ship was everywhere, includ... |
A pale silver-haired surfacer elf – a darthir - her mind provided the Drow term helpfully, stood on the path ahead, wearing a most ridiculous outfit. A heavily embroidered doublet, with voluminous puffy sleeves covered his torso, the monstrosity erupted into silly white ruffles at his neck. Maybe she needn’t have worri... |
"Hurry, I’ve got one of those brain things cornered." He called out to her, hands wringing anxiously in front of him. "There in the grass. You can kill it can’t you?" |
She cocked her head to the side and considered killing him. That unknowable, unspeakable urge deep within her bubbled with excitement. It wanted to kill, to claw, to tear. What a perfect, pretty corpse he would make! She almost giggled aloud as she began to call upon her magic, but it felt slow and weak. She hadn’t not... |
As she turned to leave, she saw the glint of a blade. She spun, shadow coalesced around her as she began a spell of teleportation, but before she could finish casting, she was pulled to the ground, the dagger held to her neck. Her magic was slow to respond right now, yet he had moved so fast. She rapidly began to reass... |
"Shh, not a sound." He purred; all shred of former anxiety gone. "Not if you want to keep that lovely neck of yours. Now, I saw you strutting around on the ship while I was trapped in that pod, didn’t I? Nod." |
She smirked, and whispered words of power. Acid coated the blade, racing up from tip to cross guard. The metal hissing and melting instantly. |
"Gah! You little -!" he cried out, dropping the handle as if it were a venomous snake. |
She began to form another spell. |
"Oh no you don’t" once again he moved so quick. He clapped one hand over her mouth and pinned her arms above her head with the other. He swung his leg over her, straddling her in the dirt. Her eyes locked to his, glaring. His were the colour of blood. She struggled against him, trying to throw him off, but with little ... |
"What was that? What’s going on?" his voice had lost its haughtiness. |
"I don’t know, but something just connected us." She said hesitantly, confusion overriding caution. |
"It’s those tentacled monsters. Whatever they did to us caused that link. They took you too, I saw it during... whatever just happened." He said softly, his brow slightly furrowed. |
He slowly moved off her and stood, holding out a hand which she did not take. He recovered quickly, some of the arrogance returning to his tone. "And to think I was ready to decorate the ground with your innards. Apologies." He smirked "Although... you seem to have already wreaked your vengeance upon the offending dagg... |
"Be grateful it’s only your dagger lying in pieces on the floor" she hissed, as she got to her feet. |
"Aha, a kindred spirit" the elf remarked with another smirk. "My name’s Astarion. I was in Baldur’s Gate when those beasts snatched me." |
She shifted uneasily under his gaze. Why was he looking at her expectantly? Your name. He’s expecting you to tell him your name. She realised that she didn’t know her name. She was a stranger, even to herself. The Drow word for stranger rose in her mind. |
"A pleasure." he said with an easy smile "So do you know anything about these worms?" |
"Yes, unfortunately they’ll turn us into Mindflayers" she replied offhandedly, while dusting off her robes. |
"Turn us into – ha! Ha ha ha!" a strangled manic laugh burst forth from Astarion. "Of course, it’ll turn me into a monster." He trailed off quietly "What else did I expect?" some other emotion had entered his voice that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. It passed so quickly she might have thought she imagined it. H... |
"We?" she raised an eyebrow, her arms crossed. This is exactly what she had wanted to avoid, picking up companions. |
"Our odds are better together. And you seem like a useful person to know." He smirked "And please don’t take any offence to this darling but you could use someone with some..." he coughed politely, "interpersonal skills, if we want to find someone to help us. You look like you are about to murder anyone that crosses yo... |
Nika rolled her eyes. Although she reluctantly realised, he wasn’t wrong. She was an under-elf in an unfamiliar land, not to mention the dark thoughts that seemed perpetually present, swirling just beneath the surface. Having a surface elf at her side would probably make obtaining help with the tadpoles somewhat easier... |
"Not particularly talkative, are you?" Astarion muttered. |
They were clambering through the inside of a large somewhat intact part of the mindflayer ship. Nika resisted the urge to sigh audibly. He had been like this the whole time; making idle chit chat and prodding her for information about herself. Information he had no idea that she couldn’t give him. His questions were al... |
Let’s turn the tables on him and see how he likes it she mused. |
"Tell me a bit about yourself" she asked him. |
"Oh, what is there to tell" he said nonchalantly, "I was a magistrate in the city, it’s all rather boring really." |
She looked over her shoulder and arched her brow at him. As suspected, she was not the only one with her guard up. His mouth curved upwards into a slow smirk. |
"Alright, alright. Point taken" he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. |
As they exited the wrecked ship, they were greeted with several goblin corpses strewn about. She approached one and began to cast, the spell feeling sluggish to arrive at her fingertips. Green tendrils curled around her forearms. Astarion shifted uneasily beside her as the corpse rose into the air. Trust a pompous high... |
She questioned the goblin corpse and discovered nothing further about their mindflayer attackers; however, it divulged the presence of a Druid grove nearby. When the corpse dropped to the ground, lifeless once more, Astarion spoke. |
"So... can you do that to any undead? Control them like that?" he sounded anxious. |
"Only the truly deceased or undead with a weak will like simple skeletons or zombies" she shrugged. |
"Fascinating... if a little unsettling darling" he said as he began to stride away "Come on then, let’s find this grove that little goblin zombie of yours spoke of." |
She didn’t know why she knew her powers so well but not her own name. It seemed she had functioning memories of her sorcerous abilities and a general understanding of Faerun. She could recall the names of Gods, places, histories, and the various races that inhabited the land. But if she tried to recall how she came to ... |
She looked down at the goblin corpses once more. |
Her vision swam. A roiling, red mist. She could barely hear her newfound name over the beating war drum of blood. Her vision slowly came into focus. She was on her knees beside the corpses, her hands resting on the bloodied chest of the nearest one. She realised that a manic grin was plastered across her face. |
Gods he’s going to put you down like a rabid dog if you don’t get a hold of yourself! |
She quickly pulled her hands from the corpse as though burned and clenched her jaw to stop the mad grin returning. She raised a shaky hand to her brow and found it moist with sweat. |
"You look rabid, pained, sick." He exclaimed as she rose to her feet shakily. "You’re spasming and twitching, you- wait, who’s that?" he frowned, gesturing behind her. |
A half-elf with a long dark braid was approaching them cautiously. Nika giddy with such relief at the distraction from her little "episode" that she barely processed the exchange between Astarion and the newcomer. The newcomer ended up being a cleric named Shadowheart and had also been infected with a tadpole aboard th... |
Eventually she snapped, informing Shadowheart in no uncertain terms that Lae’zel was a formidable fighter and that she would be joining them. Lae’zel had barely got her smug reply started before Nika whirled on her to convey that yes, they would consider the cure she claimed her people had for the tadpoles, but no they... |
The sun was starting to set, Nika, Astarion and Shadowheart agreed to make camp, much to Lae’zel’s displeasure, who seemingly wanted to press on until they all collapsed. With several ch'ks and Kainyaks - whatever they meant, she finally stopped angrily pacing and settled on sharpening her sword slightly more aggressiv... |
"You don’t get cold?" Astarion gestured at how far she sat from the fire they’d lit as he sat down beside her. |
She shrugged "not especially, must be my magic." |
"Ah yes, I am still mourning the loss of my dagger" he smirked, "So I have seen you speak to the dead and use a few types of magic now; what are you? A wizard? A necromancer?" |
"I’m a sorcerer." |
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