Chapter Text

I’m dreaming that dream again. The smell of smoke, the flames, the desperate windmilling of my arms as I run down, down the hill, paying no mind to everyone that needs to be pushed out of the way. The Fist barring my way, pushing me back, holding tightly and I’m beating against his chest in a pointless attempt to get … in? Out? Away?

Sorcha fell to the floor, dazed, her knuckles bleeding as she looked around at what could only be described as the inside of some creature’s stomach. She shook her head, trying to dislodge the fog and the nausea. How in the hells had she been swallowed up by whatever this was?

A wave of panic overwhelmed her and she ran to one of the walls, releasing bolt after bolt of fire in a vain attempt to break through. Eventually she hit, well, she didn’t even want to think what that was, but an opening appeared and she dashed through into another similar chamber.

Falling. Falling and burning? Must be another dream, don’t you feel like you’re falling when you’re about to wake up? WAKE UP!

Ah. Still burning then. Though not as badly as that poor soul over there. Nice beach if it wasn’t for the flaming carcass and corpses next to it. Wonder where I am?

She had vague memories of a fight in the sky, nightmare creatures, things with teeth burrowing into her eye, ambulant brains, demons and sea monsters and of fighting beside a cleric and some sort of frog alien.

Sorcha groaned as she sat up and took some time to assess her injuries. Only a few burns and some cuts. Luckily she still had a healing potion stashed in her sleeve so between that and a bit of river water she was definitely not on fire now.

Sorcha took a deep breath and headed in the direction with least squid. As she walked through the wreckage she tried to recognise landmarks but nothing looked like anywhere she knew from around Yartar. There was a body that looked familiar though, the half elf that had been in her dream.

She carefully walked over and saw that the woman stirred. Long-lashed green eyes looked up at her. “You’re alive. I’m alive. How is this possible?” the woman said with confusion.

It was finally dawning on Sorcha that this hadn’t just been one of her more colourful dreams. Her stomach churned at the realisation.

"Does it matter? We survived," she replied.

The woman, Shadowheart she remembered, suggested that they stick together to find a healer who could remove the godawful nightmare things from their eyes. It seemed to Sorcha that having someone with her to separate hallucination from reality would be a very good idea.

They had crashed on a riverbank, and it was likely that there would be a settlement close by due to the scattered equipment and bodies of fishing crews. Although it was unpleasant, they decided that checking the bodies for useful items had to be done. After this grim task, they sat down and took a tally: thirty-two gold pieces, a healing potion, two daggers, some lockpicks, a truly ugly hat and a few fish.

“It’s not much, is it?” Shadowheart sighed. 

“I wouldn’t say that” replied Sorcha. “That’s probably more gold than I’ve ever seen in one place. Are you from some wealthy family then?”

Shadowheart’s previously open face shut down instantly. “I don’t want to talk about it right now” she mumbled.

“Fair enough, I won’t pry. I was just making conversation, seeing as we are to be travelling together. Shall we try over by the cliffs next?”

There was a promising looking door at the left of the beach, with tall oak doors and fancy ironwork, but they could neither get an answer nor manage to pick the lock. The cliffs towered above, looking difficult to climb, so they were left with only one option, to go back into the carcass and look for a way to the other side. It was, unfortunately, not completely devoid of life - the brain things still skittered about. They both crouched low and tried to bypass the creatures but a pool of acid sent Sorcha’s feet out from under her and she landed heavily, alerting the brains. Shadowheart shot her a look of irritation and then turned to fight.

There were only three of the creatures, but they still managed to put up a nasty fight. For some reason the spells that would usually come easily to Sorcha just weren't there when she reached for them. Maybe it was just because she was exhausted, maybe it was something to do with the creatures in their heads. She gritted her teeth and managed a couple of Bone Chill cantrips to finish them off. 

"Shadowheart, are you as shattered as I am? Can we rest for a while, my spells aren't coming as easily as usual."

"Of course" said Shadowheart. "Mine don't seem to flow that well either, we need to get out to open air and then eat something".

On the other side of the Nautiloid was a pleasant cove, with sheltering trees and a view over the river. It seemed peaceful apart from the distant sound of the fires still crackling and occasional gusts of dark smoke. However the two women managed to relax a little and let their injuries recover somewhat.

After this quick rest they continued walking along the meandering path, sandwiched between the river and the crashed ship. In the distance a voice started to make itself known.

"Hello? Can you help me? Hello?"

The voice came from a once well-dressed elf. The fine clothing looked a little worse for wear, charred at the edges but still obviously a well-to-do character. He had finely chiselled features and curly white hair, and was beckoning them over.

Oh great, some city toff all ready to get us fetching and carrying for him no doubt. But he might have gold so best to play along for now.

"I've got one of those brain things cornered", he said, a pathetic look on his face. "You can kill it can't you? Like you killed the others?"

Sorcha stepped up to look, while Shadowheart hung back more cautiously. As a boar burst from the undergrowth, the elf suddenly flipped her onto her back and held a dagger to her throat.

Stupid, stupid, what in the hells has happened to your basic training? But he shouldn't be able to move that quickly, even Nareen couldn't best him at that speed. 

"Ssh, not a sound. Not if you want to keep that darling neck of yours," he threatened. "Now, I saw you on the ship, didn't I? Nod."

The elf was so very very pretty from this angle. The sunlight gleamed through his perfect curls. But really, she should escape, he did have a knife to her throat after all. 

Her head burst with a flash of unfamiliar dark streets and fear, but not her memories, no fire, just gut wrenching terror. The elf startled too.

"What was that? What's going on?"

Sorcha took the opportunity to whisper a quick lightning cantrip, burning his hand and he leapt back in alarm.

"I saw into your mind … they took you too. And to think I was ready to decorate the ground with your innards. Apologies," the elf said, hands raised in a gesture of peace.

"Can't blame you," said Sorcha. "I was looking forward to seeing yours".

"Ah, a kindred spirit! My name's Astarion. I was in Baldur's Gate when those beasts snatched me".

"A pleasure. I'm Sorcha and I was in Yartar. You're welcome to join us while we look for a healer who knows about these things."

Oh, Sorcha, you ridiculous creature, "a pleasure" indeed … how obvious can you get? Drag your mind from the gutter and come up with a viable plan. . Get this worm out, get him as a useful contact for protection in the Gate, get myself back to Yartar.