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Astarion’s head was at least slightly clearer now, the headache lessening to a dull throb. It would probably be wise to start by taking a look at his surroundings. Maybe there was something of it he’d recognize. Though, he had to wager that the meaty, destroyed remains of the nautilus ship would make it hard to tell what this place may have looked like before.
If Astarion strained to see past the ship, he could see... Trees, trees - oh - look at that! More trees. He was quite certain he’d never been here before, then. Even in life, Astarion had never been the outdoorsy type.
Astarion pushed himself up from the ground, tugging the bottom of his shirt to straighten it. Alright, Astarion, you’ve just survived a mindflayer ship. Whatever they did to you there has made you immune to sun damage, and you’ve been dropped in the middle of nowhere. What do you do with this information?
The first thing to pop into Astarion’s head; find a weapon. Yes, self-defense was always a good place to start. He was in the woods, there were all manners of critters lurking about in the woods. A weapon would certainly come in handy.
Astarion took a step out of the shade he had cowered into, looking around to see if anything immediately stood out to him. As soon as the sunlight hit his face, he winced, having to squeeze his eyes shut and cup his hand over them. Mindflayer tomfoolery could protect you from the vampire’s curse of the sun, but not from your eyes suddenly have to adjust after 200 years of darkness. Duly noted. His headache was back, and this time he did not think it had anything to do with worms wiggling around in his skull.
Astarion opened his eyes again, but still kept his hand cupped over his brow for the time being. He decided to focus his gaze on the ground until he got used to it; there was no need for him to be staring directly into the sky anyways. He saw a glint of metal on the ground, not too far from where he was standing. Next to the glint was a corpse sprawled on it’s front. Seemed very promising.
Astarion stepped over the dead man to examine his body. The man’s slack fingers were wrapped around the hilt of a very sizable hunting dagger. He grinned, well, would you look at that! His luck was turning up already.
Astarion crouched down to pluck the knife from the dead man’s grasp, "Thank you muchly, sir."
He slipped the knife into his belt, tightening it so it would not slip out. There, he’d set out a goal and completed that goal. Now what?
Wilderness survival was not something he had ever learned, nor needed to learn. Shelter was probably important, he should probably find that. Would it be too dangerous to seek shelter in the remnants of the ship? Or...he looked at it’s gooey, festering remains. It would probably start to stink of rot and maggots in a matter of days, there had to be better options.
As Astarion pondered over where to next, he heard a crack of branches being snapped behind him.
. Astarion dropped to a crouch, hiding himself in a bush off the side of the path. He put one hand to the hilt of the knife he had just purloined before peering out. He had expected wild beasts, but he hadn’t expected them
soon. He guessed he probably should’ve, a wreckage as large as this one was likely to drag all manner of attention. Human, animal, whatever else was lurking around here.
The thing that ended up emerging from the foliage was not an animal, but a man. Or...at least Astarion thought it was a man, he was actually debating with himself if "not an animal" was the correct assessment.
The man was, very possibly, the largest humanoid Astarion had ever seen in his life. He had to have been over seven tall, maybe even reaching closer to eight, and the large horns upon his head added an extra two feet on top of that; with another set of much smaller horns resting behind those. The way he was dressed left very little to the imagination; he was only barely covered by various pelts, furs, and leathers. The man was built like he made a hobby out of wrestling owlbears, and he had yet to lose a match. He had the large, well-developed muscles one only got from hard labor, and a layer of fat on top of them. A large part of his body was covered in matte black scales; the entirety of his back, up his neck, wrapping around his arms and legs like snakeskin gloves and stockings. Or, actually - as Astarion squinted, staring at his limbs harder, he realized his limbs weren’t human at all. They looked more like something that should belong to a bird of prey (no, an alligator - no, some other manner of terrible lizard), completely scaled and ending in long, curved talons. His feet were much the same, he walked on his toes like a beast and had a dewclaw halfway up his ankle. Long, shaggy blond hair fell around his shoulders and obscured a majority of his face from Astarion’s view; but he’d seen plenty enough. Enough at least to decide that whatever that thing was, he very much did not want to be in it’s line of sight.
Astarion had to guess he was a scavenger attracted by the wreck, those furs made him seem like he was wild; maybe he lived in these woods. Maybe he was a cannibal, the more wild part of Astarion’s mind said. Yes, that was the only explanation for him to look so fearsome and live in the woods; he was a feral cannibal, come to look for human corpses to drag back to his den and eat.
If he found Astarion thee; something (relatively) alive and wriggling, the beast-man would likely decide that he was much more enticing than a corpse that had been dead for gods knows how long (again, hardy-har). Astarion would’ve protested that those corpses would probably taste far better than he did - and it would’ve been true! It wasn’t like Astarion had any meat on his bones, and also he was undead, there was also that. But he had an inkling that, to cannibals, the excuse of "you don’t want to eat me, I don’t taste good!" was probably rather worn out.
The beast-man’s nose twitched, and he lowered himself to all fours as he snuffled at the ground. Apparently he had found something interesting, and Astarion had a funny feeling of what that interesting thing might’ve been.
He shrank further back into the shrubbery. Could he flee? He wouldn’t know where to go; and the beast-man had his scent now, he’d be tracked down eventually. Could he fight? Likely not - that thing was big- way,
too big. Astarion didn’t think he would have been able to reach anything higher than his belly button, even if he stretched his arm up all the way.
Astarion would have to get an advantage on it, there was just no other way. If he just ran out guns-blazing the beastman would throw him around like a chewtoy.
, if he could trick him - catch him off guard. Make him get lower to the ground, perhaps, so Astarion’s knife could strike something more important than the back of a thigh.
The beast-man had ceased his sniffing. Scaled, deer-like ears twitched upwards as he listened for the sounds of movement. It was only a matter of time until Astarion was found out - he had to make the first move for this to work.
"You there!" Astarion called out, standing up from the bushes to make it look like he hadn’t just been hiding there this whole time. "You look strong and capable, might I pester you for a favor?"
The beast-man turned his head to look in Astarion’s direction. His eyes were an electric blue, pitch black sclera and wide, glassy pupils. They looked like the eyes of a predator. It felt like they were staring straight through whatever remained of his soul - Astarion had to keep his nerve, he cleared his throat.
"One of those - brain things, from the ship." He let a calculated amount of nervousness slip into his voice. It helped sell the illusion, without making him sound too much like a damsel in distress. He pointed to a random spot in the near distance. "It jumped out at me - but I’ve got it cornered. You can kill it, can’t you? You look like you’re very good at that."
The beast-man did nothing, just continued to stare. Astarion had to bite his tongue.
Maybe once you’re done, you could put it in your own skull. Since it seems to not have any brains of it’s own.
It was a very uncomfortable stretch of silence, but finally the stranger moved. Still on all fours, he crept towards the spot Astarion had been pointing to. His nose twitched again, his ears were pitched forward to listen closely. He was thoroughly distracted from whatever was going on at his back.
Astarion white knuckle gripped at the hunting knife in his belt, he only had one chance to strike true.
"There, can you see it?" He encouraged, trying to make sure the beast-man stayed focused on the imaginary creature as Astarion got closer to his back. The knife slipped out from his belt, and he slowly reached forward to angle it towards the stranger’s upper back. The dagger was long, and the man had no armor there. With luck, he could strike a lung, or maybe even all the way down to his heart.
Just as he had been readying to plunge, the bushes rattled for real. A boar came galloping out, squealing for it’s life as it vanished into the waterside. It broke the beast-man’s concentration, his head following it’s path to watch it flee. The boar did not keep his attention for long, as soon Astarion saw those predatory eyes turn away from that, and towards the knife being pointed at his back.
Shit - shitshitshit-
The beast-man began to growl, his ears were pinned completely flat to his head. Astarion tried to not trip over himself as he backed away, trying to create distance should he get the chance to make a run for it.
The stranger turned his body around, taloned hands tearing up the dirt. His tail thrashed behind him, black scales fluffed up to make himself look large and threatening (as if he needed any aid on that). He snarled, lips curling back over teeth that put Astarion’s little toothpicks to shame. They looked like they’d be more at home in the maw of a bear; his incisors were long and pointed, the canines as long as daggers. Perfectly made for liberating flesh from it’s bones, and liberating bones of their marrow. Foamy drool dripped from the corners of his mouth as he growled.
Astarion thought.
Ten thousand percent a cannibal.
Once again, Astarion found himself at the short end of the stick, with no ideas as of where to go from here. Even on all fours as he was, the beast-man towered over him, those powerful paws could shatter his entire spine with a well-placed backhand. Astarion did not consider himself a very good runner, he had very little stamina and did not trust himself to not trip and eat dirt.
What a world, to survive 200 years of torment, mindflayers, and a nautiloid shipwreck, only to be slaughtered by a random wildman on the side of the road. What a laughably cruel world. The beast-man lowered himself to the ground and adjusted his hips to pounce, Astarion decided to just look away. He shut his eyes, and waited for the end - he only hoped the man didn’t like to play with his food.
He heard a scrape in the dirt, and pain shot out from behind his eyes. Astarion let out a loud yelp, recoiling and clutching at his head. He thought the beast-man must’ve struck, stabbed those horrible teeth into his eyeballs and deprived him of his scalp. But he was still conscious, his head was just... Searing, throbbing, squirming? Visions pulled from his mind; hazy, dreamy snapshots of his own memories. Astarion tried to force them out, that absolutely was
what he wanted to be thinking about in his final moments. The pain was gone as soon as it came, and his vision cleared just enough to see the beast-man cowering on the ground. Clutching his head in his paws and making a pathetic, repeated whimper.
Astarion couldn’t help the small bit of glee he felt seeing such a violent creature brought to crying like a kicked dog over a little bit of a headache. That was, until he realized the implication of the fact that the beast-man had just shared the same experience as him.
Oh, there was no way-
"You were - You were on the ship."
The beast-man looked up, whatever fury he had felt had been beaten out of him by his tadpole acting up. He now looked more like a dumb, beaten puppy than a snarling, rabid predator. Astarion had little capacity for sympathy, considering the damn thing had just been about to maul him. He could stand to have at least a smidgen of pain tolerance.
"The ship." Astarion repeated, with a hint of frustration. He pointed harshly at the wreckage close by. "Ship. Were you on it? Yes or no? Did they put one of those tadpoles into you?"
The beast-man’s eyes did not have a single mote of understanding in them. They went to Astarion’s face, and then towards where his hand was pointing. It occurred to Astarion that it was highly likely that this thing didn’t even speak; maybe he didn’t understand at all. Only that Astarion was loud and pointing, but with no deeper comprehension of what he was being loud
"Tadpole." Astarion repeated when the beast-man failed to respond. He waved his hand as he tried to figure out a way to motion it. He pointed at his eye, "Pale, wiggly, squirmy thing."
The beast-man repeated the action, tapping one of his own claws to the side of his skull. "Squirmy thing..." he parroted slowly, as if he was chewing on the words as they came out of him. He had an odd, thick accent. The "r’ in "squirmy’ was lingered on a little bit too long, kind of like a rumble. He spoke as if it was a struggle. "Tadpole?"
speak, but only in dumb caveman. Wonderful, splendiferous! Astarion absolutely did not have the patience for this-
! He was, in fact, very interested in keeping all of his limbs firmly where they should be; so if he had to translate everything into stupid, he would translate into stupid.
"Yes, that’s called a tadpole. They’re-" Astarion blanked; actually, he didn’t know any more about mindflayers than his new feral friend. "Well, I’m not actually entirely sure what they are. Only that they can’t be anything good. I got one as well; it seems we have much in common."
There could be other survivors, then. Astarion was unsure if that prospect was good or bad. On one hand; there might be someone out there that knew more about the parasite than he did. (Or, at the very least, had a brain cell count higher than the single digits.) There must’ve been a way to pluck this thing out of him before it did any lasting damage - whatever that lasting damage may be.
On the other, the only survivors he had come across so far were, well, himself, someone who was certainly not well-intentioned, and a hulking beast of a man who he was still not entirely convinced was not a cannibal. The odds of the other survivors being half-way decent were certainly not in his favor.
Maybe mindflayers only plucked up the relatively despicable. That would make sense. Why would something as horrid as a mindflayer want to pick up the most noble-hearted paladin for their experiments when they could get something far more intriguing? Either way, Astarion had very little motivation to go good-will hunting among the wreckage of the ship. The shared headache just now had been a fluke, it would not save him from being mauled or worse every time.
There was the sound of shifting in the dirt besides him, Astarion flinched and whipped his head around to look. That beast-man had pushed himself up, though he seemed to have forgotten Astarion even existed. He was still making miserably puppy noises, and now licking at one of his hand-paws. It seemed like he’d broken a claw when the headache had interrupted his pounce.
Astarion thought bitterly, watching the thin stream of blood trail the beast-man’s claw.
At least the rabid monster was distracted and no longer cared about him; it would likely be within his best interests to get up and leave now. Astarion was dragging his feet a little bit on purpose, he’d admit it. He didn’t
to get up and try his chances at finding more survivors, but it was unfortunately his best option at this point. Maybe he was wrong, maybe somewhere among that ruffle
that golden-hearted paladin he had dreamt up. Someone he could cozy up to and act just oh so weak and pathetic around, someone so clearly in need of protection.
It hit Astarion then, as he was bitterly mulling over the fat chance of finding someone around here that wouldn’t stab him at first sight, that that was what he needed. Protection. A bodyguard. Something, or someone, to persuade people into giving him the resources he needed and the answers he craved far more than the edge of a blade ever would. Someone that would make people think twice about attacking first.
What Astarion needed was a meat shield.
And a large, dumb, easily manipulated brute had just been dropped into his lap.
Maybe he could stay for just a little while longer.
He looked back at the beast-man still nursing his wounded paw, and Astarion was kicking himself for not realizing what a golden opportunity this was sooner. Just in case things should go south again, he put the knife back into his belt before he got up from his place on the ground. He out on his most woeful, sympathetic face as he approached the other man.
"Oh, poor darling." He cooed, stepping loudly so he would not sneak up on him. "Did you hurt yourself?"
The man pinned his ears flat, making a loud, guttural hiss as Astarion got closer. Astarion froze in his tracks, throwing his hands up in surrender.
"Now hold on!" He said quickly, the panic in his voice not entirely fake this time. "It seems we’ve gotten off on a bit of a wrong foot. I wanted to apologize for the deception. After all of - well, you know, you were there too - I’ve been on edge. Thinking everyone was another mindflayer in disguise, come to take me back to the ship; or something else terrible."
Astarion kept a healthy distance as he crouched down, close enough to reach out and touch, but far enough away he was not in anyone’s bubble. "But you’re nothing scary, are you? You’re a big softie, underneath all those scales, I can sense it." He smiled and held out his hand, "Might I see your paw?"
The beast looked wary, those blue eyes of his traveled down to the knife in Astarion’s belt. Hm, so his memory span was a little bit longer than that of a flea’s. That did complicate the matter. Astarion shifted his hip to put the knife out of immediate view.
"Now, now, I know what you must be thinking," He assured, "And, trust me! I would be wary too. But, you have on my honor - " A promise that meant nothing, "That I only wish to help. No more sneaky knife work. Besides, we share common ground now, you see?" He tapped his temple, "The tadpoles, remember? Wouldn’t it be foolish to turn against each other rather than combine our forces?"
Astarion shook his outstretched hand, "So, again, your paw?"
The beast-man did not seem entirely convinced, but he did lower his large hand into Astarion’s smaller one. Good lord, his hands were huge - Astarion would have been only able to barely wrap his own hand around just two of his fingers. The bleeding claw had already started to dry off, but Astarion gave an exaggerated pout as he examined it anyways. He rubbed the pad of his thumb into the beast-man’s knuckle.
"Poor dear, looks like you nipped your quick. But you’re a strong lad, you’ll be just fine, I’m certain of it." He looked back up to the beast-man’s face; his long hair had fallen into it, obscuring one of his eyes from view. Astarion wasn’t sure if that made him more or less threatening; especially since he didn’t seem to have much of a reaction to being touched like this.
"You’re quite the beautiful creature, you know." Astarion hummed, "Would you happen to have a lovely name to match?"
The beast-man continued to stare blankly, and Astarion was once again having to re-evaluate how much he thought this man could talk. But he saw his lips part, and a low-pitched, rumbly sound left them.
"...Philios..."
"Philios!" Astarion repeated, "Oh, I was right! That’s a
lovely name." He put his free hand to his chest. "I’m Astarion, not quite as dazzling a name as yours, but it’s lovely to meet you all the same." He finally released Philios’s paw, "Now, Philios, I have a proposition for you, if you’ll hear me out."
Philios made a grunt that Astarion decided to take as an affirmative. He had been expecting to have to be the majority of this conversation.
"Seeing as we have...similar goals, I think it would be within our best interests to team up. Watch each other’s backs, search for other survivors. Maybe there’s someone around here that can help us with our little - unwanted passengers."
Philios kept his silence. While his face was not very expressive, his flattened ears and twitching tail told Astarion that the dusty, cobweb-ridden gears in his head were at least
to turn. Finally, Philios made a "hm’, and bobbed his head once.
"Yes. Sorry..." He said, in that slow way of his. Philios’s lips twitched as he struggled for words. "Not...good at talking; this one. Common...not so good."
"Oh! Not your native tongue?" Astarion tilted his head to the side.
Philios nodded, looking slightly embarrassed.
"Not to worry, darling." Astarion patted his hand. "Allow me to do most of the talking, I’ve got plenty enough words for the both of us. Maybe I could even teach you a few." He would not, he had no interest in teaching this thing to fend for himself.
"What do you say then, is it a deal?"
Philios made an affirmative grunt.
"Wonderful!" Astarion was giddy inside, that had been way, way too easy. This was going to work perfectly. He pushed himself out of the crouch, motioning for his new pet to follow. "Come along, then! Nothing else for us to do then move forward."
Philios got up on his own two feet, trailing along Astarion like a well trained dog.
A well trained, vicious dog.
As it turned out; the two of them were not the only ones on a mission to find other former mindflayer hostages. It was not too long before their duo had run into a quartet; a small party headed by a short tiefling that had very enthusiastically introduced themselves as "Tav". They explained that they, too, had escaped the mindflayer ship. Astarion did a very good job at feigning surprise,
My goodness! What a happy coincidence!
Which then turned into real surprise when Tav further explained they had had a hand in crashing the damn thing; which only further morphed when Tav pointed at Philios and declared "I remember you!". Apparently, Philios had also had a hand in the escape. Astarion wasn’t sure how he’d managed to miss a giant rampaging lizard man, smashing mindflayer’s heads to pieces and chowing down on their remains - Or at least, that’s the only way Astarion could really envision Philios "helping". But he guessed he had been rather...pre-occupied, at the time.
Tav then invited the both of them to their camp, and insisted that they join the club. Which was a much more comfortable idea than Astarion’s original plan; which had simply been to hunker down behind Philios when the other went to sleep at night and hope for the best.
The camp is where Astarion found himself now, having pitched a tent and nabbed some other creature comforts from Tav’s impressive supply stash. Astarion had to wonder how they had come across such a vast array of items in such short time; but he wasn’t one to pass judgment when it came to thievery. He was just glad to have some semblance of privacy, and something soft to lay down on. He had also claimed, from the stash of beddings, what Astarion would consider a healthy amount of silk pillows. Pillows which he now lounged against, a wine goblet in his hand (something else he had insisted upon nabbing), as he watched the rest of his new traveling companions mill about the camp.
Astarion was not sure he had anything nice to say about a single one of them. There were three in total he had to be introduced to as Tav lead their way to camp. The wizard seemed relatively harmless. Incredibly obnoxious, made Astarion want to put his hand over his mouth and tell him to
a multitude of times; but harmless. The dark-haired woman seemed shiftier than he was, and he very much did not like it. The githyanki was the only one that had held a bit of intrigue to him, as he’d never actually met one in person. But that novelty quickly wore off when he figured out she made him nervous. With the way she acted, he wasn’t sure his new guard-beastie would phase her at all if it came down to it.
It was serving to prove his running theory that mindflayers only snatched up the depraved and despicable; as Tav seemed to be the only truly pleasant person amongst the entire group. But Astarion would’ve sooner trusted someone holding a knife to his throat than trusted someone that acted

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