Night One
Night One
Gliss stared up at the night sky, dark and speckled with countless stars. Hard ground dug into her back, but it was flat and felt almost good after such an…adventure. As Gliss thought, she scoffed to herself. Adventure. More like a horror. The adventures she had dreamed of from her dockside, basement flat in Baldur’s Gate were full of sunlight, romance, and music. Storytelling. Lilting voices and laughing. Not this. Gliss shifted as Gale approached the fire, but he didn’t address her beyond a small nod. He too, seemed haunted by the day, staring into the fire as if it could give him answers to the million questions they still had. Would they survive this? Could they trust each other? The worry that Gliss would fall asleep and not wake up, struck with a seemingly friendly blade in the darkest hours of the night weighed in the back of her mind. Gliss sat up, turning her gaze from the night sky to the fire. Maybe Gale could see something she couldn’t, some answer they needed. Her hair, brown-turned-auburn in the firelight, itched at Gliss’ neck, and began to braid it up and off her skin. The monotony of the action–forward, back, weaving in and out–made her close her eyes. The events of the day replayed like a child’s puppet show, odd and eerie.
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Gliss had awoken that morning to a horrible, wiggling burning in her left eye. The expectation of comfort, the sheets and blankets of her bed caressing her, was subverted by cold metal that pulsed with heat as if alive. She stumbled out of the cradle and into a burning ship. Gliss walked through the rooms and halls as if drunk, the feeling of altitude rapidly changing then stabilizing making her feel sick. There was nothing solid to hold on to. Aimless, she wound her way through the ship until she reached a room, one wall of which had been torn away. Approaching the chasm with a numbed fear, Gliss peered out. Red. Fire, and floating towers, and hordes of demons crawling like ants far below. Gliss reeled back. Avernus. She was not particularly learned, nor had she ever been to such a place before. But the surety in her stomach, the sudden horror, confirmed her prognosis. Had she died? Had her life been so wretched that she deserved the fires of Avernus for it? But a shadow and a feeling of movement yanked her from her horror, and Gliss backed away from a bristling gith woman, seemingly appeared from nowhere. Gliss was frozen in shock and horror. Tear-tracks ran through the dirt on her face, though she didn’t remember beginning to cry. The gith spoke, her voice gravelly and unrepentant. “Prepare to die, ghaik-thrall!” She spat. Gliss backed away, her hands held up placatingly. “Wait,” she croaked. “I’m not a . . . whatever that is!” Through whatever luck the gods had deigned bestow on Gliss at birth (which wasn’t much), the githyanki halted and they conversed. Lae’zel was her name, and she too had woken up on this hell-ship. After confirming that Gliss was not a threat (which made Gliss want to laugh hysterically), they decided to go on together. “To the helm,” Lae’zel ordered. So on they went. Imps threw themselves at the pair, and Lae’zel heroically slayed them. Gliss picked up a staff from the clutches of a fallen, tentacled monster, and did her best. They climbed the ship, navigating as best they could. Gliss now had an ally, a staff, and a long, bloody scratch on her arm. Soon they entered a big room, oriented around a central console written in a tongue neither Gliss nor Lae’zel recognized. Chairs hooked up to the console in a ring were occupied by limp, seemingly dead people. A voice, and a sudden thumping, drew Gliss’ attention. “Help! I’m in here! Please!” Gliss went to the sound, the floor tilting nauseatingly. A pod, closed off and sealed shut, was the source. A woman with dark hair desperately beat on the inside of the shell. “Please! Get me out!” Gliss tried prying the pod open to no avail. She began to search for a button or a lever, but Lae’zel interrupted curtly “Come along. We have no time for stragglers.” Gliss paused, caught between two imperatives. But she couldn’t leave the woman to die trapped in that pod. She peered inside, ignoring Lae’zel’s complaining scoff. “How do I open it?” she asked the woman inside. The woman shook her head wildly. “I don’t know! There was some sort of glowing from my left earlier, but that’s all I remember. Please don’t leave me–” she said. Gliss put her hand against the hardened glass of the pod. She felt things around her coming into sharper focus, her heart rate slowing down. “Don’t worry, I won’t.” Gliss set to the console next to the pod, and used her limited knowledge of magic to try and force it to open the pod. Nothing. Looking further down the room, Gliss saw a doorway. “Lae’zel, stay here. I’ll be right back.” Gliss ran across the room and through the portal door. She navigated around corpses, checking them for a key and trying not to shudder at the feel of their hardening flesh. Another pod stood in the center of the room, but Gliss couldn’t see inside, so she ignored it. Finally, at the other end, Gliss found not a key, but a relic of some sort. It glowed slightly, a word of power in an unknown language written upon it. “This must be it,” Gliss murmured. She ran back, thankful to have that darkened corpse-room behind her, and placed the relic on the console. Blessedly: a sound of air releasing, and the lid of the pod lifted up. The woman fell out ungracefully, and Gliss kneeled beside her. “Are you okay?” she asked. The woman shook her head, clutching it as if in pain. “Yes, but–aaGGH!” Now Gliss clutched her head, feeling a tingle that had must have been numbed before by shock. Her awareness spread out to the other two women, and Gliss felt like she could see and feel Lae’zel behind them without even looking at her. Gliss and the woman’s minds collided, then retreated. “What was that?” the woman asked. Lae’zel had finally had enough. “We’ve wasted enough time on this! Chk! We must go, now!” Gliss nodded. The clarity she had felt before was receding, but this was normal. It gave her a sliver of comfort to feel her mind and body walking familiar paths. Gliss and the woman stood, and she introduced herself. “Name’s Shadowheart. Thank you for letting me out of that pod.” Gliss nodded wearily. Shadowheart reaching back into the pod, slipping something into her pocket, but Lae’zel had already reached the other door, and Gliss hurried after her, not wanting to be left behind. Now a group of three, they continued to the helm of the ship. After her burst of clarity, Gliss felt even more numbed and in shock than before. She was sluggish, exhausted. They battled their way across a large room, and Gliss tried not to look at the huge demon and the tentacled monster battling in the center. Lae’zel made a break for the far console, which was illumined in a dark light. Then, everything went still. A dragon roared, flames scorched them, and the ship began to fall out of the sky. Gravity was no more, and they were tossed around like dolls. Then, wind, open sky. Fire and smoke and clean air. Blackness. When Gliss had awoken, she had been disoriented. She had stumbled on and found Shadowheart lying in a similar state, but there was no sign of Lae’zel. “We need to find a healer,” Shadowheart intoned, rubbing her head. “We?” Gliss said, though she regretted it immediately. Shadowheart smiled sharply though. “Yes, we. We have a better chance at surviving if we stick together. Don’t you think?” They went on, navigating the broken remains of the ship, following first the line of a great river on their right, then gazing at the sky for direction. They heard, in the distance, a voice, and a squealing animal. Turning towards the sounds, the two went through the husk of the ship itself. Their path was not without peril. By the time they made it to the other side, the grass and trees and pathways continuing under openness, Gliss was bleeding from her imp-scratch sluggish blood and green poison, and clutching her side, where a slicing claw from one of the walking brains still living in the ship had caught her. The voice became clearer now, and they heard a man calling for help. “Over here! I’ve got one of those brain-things cornered!” The man must have seen them from afar, because he beckoned them up the hill, pointing into the bushes. His hair was white, but his face was young, chiseled. He moved in a strong way but his body was lean, not bulked up by excessive muscle. “Come here,” he implored. “You can kill it, like you did the others, right?” Gliss shared a look with Shadowheart. Shadowheart nodded. “Sure. Yes, I can kill it. Stand back,” Gliss said. She brandished her staff, feeling woozy but willing herself to focus. She was no warrior. If only Lae’zel were here… Gliss peered into the bushes, staff raised and ready to strike. Suddenly, the bushes moved, shaking wildly, and a pig squealed, running out from leafy cover down the hill towards the water. Gliss relaxed, lowering her staff. “It was just a–” The feel of steel at her neck made Gliss stop. “Shh, shh shh…let’s not do anything hasty. I’d hate to ruin that pretty neck of yours.” The man’s voice had taken on a silvery quality, sharpened like a knife. His breath was hot on her skin, and Gliss let her staff drop, raising her hands in surrender. She knew she had no fight left in her, not like this. Gliss was barely standing as things were. Shadowheart’s voice was near, and sharp with warning. “Be careful what you slice, rogue. You kill her and you have me to contend with.” Gliss was appreciative but didn’t think it was the time to thank Shadowheart for her erm…heartfelt appeal. “Let’s not get excited,” the man said, whispering against Gliss’ hair. She felt itchy, suddenly, like her skin was on fire. “Get off, please,” she said. Maybe it was some unheard quality in her voice, but the man actually did as she asked. His knife was still pointed to her throat, but he allowed her to turn and face him, his arm no longer a band across her chest, constricting her. His breath no longer on her skin like an itch she can’t scratch. “You were on that ship. I saw you, waltzing around with that gith. What did you do to me? Something’s–AAggh!” he cried out suddenly, clutching his head in his hands, dagger forgotten. Gliss felt her own mind contract, similarly to when she had freed Shadowheart. But more powerful. Sun. It burned. It lanced across her skin, her eyes. Darkness. Streets at night, the murmur of packed taverns and drunk wanderers and the smell… Suddenly, Gliss’s vision cleared. She was lying on the ground. “What was that? You-” the man accused. When Gliss was silent, Shadowheart replied. “It’s something to do with the ship. We don’t know any more than you. This same thing happened when she and I met, though from the looks of it, she hasn’t recovered as well this time.” “Are you going to kill me?” Gliss asked from the ground, ashamed to hear her voice quiver. She felt a hand grab hers, pulling her to her feet. “Truce?” the man asked, quirking an eyebrow. Gliss nodded tiredly. “We should find a healer. Something’s wrong with us.” Gliss said. Shadowheart approached and wrapped an arm lightly around Gliss’ shoulders, supporting her. “Better odds together. You in?” she asked the man. He laughed lightly. “I was ready to go this alone…but there is certainty sense to sticking with the herd. I’ll join you. Apologies for the erm…violence.” He put his dagger back in its hidden sheath and stuck a hand out to Gliss. She took it, wincing but trying not to show it. “Gliss. And this is Shadowheart.” The man squeezed her hand slightly before letting go. “My name’s Astarion.” The group, now three, went onward, but Gliss felt so overwhelmed that she had to sit down at intervals. They passed quickly by a fallen tentacle monster, not checking to see whether it was alive or dead. Gliss never wanted to see one of those things again. Finding Gale was a blur of magic and weirdness, casting the world in swirling purple. Gliss sat on a rock while Shadowheart attempted to remove the man from a broken rune. She saw a glint of light, and knew Astarion had unsheathed his dagger once more. They made eye contact, and Gliss looked pointedly at the weapon. Astarion merely shrugged. “Can’t hurt to be careful,” he said to her. Gale came flying out of the rune, introducing himself charmingly and calmly. He asked to join them in their search for a healer, and Shadowheart looked to Gliss. Gliss was surprised by this show of deference, but nodded. They needed all the friends they could get.
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It was night, and camp was still. They had set up in a small clearing off the road, just past where they had pulled Gale from the rune. Dead goblins littered the road, a path of corpses leading to a crumbling structure not far ahead, but none of them had the energy to go on. The spread out animal skins and made a fire from such supplies as they could scavenge. Gliss finished braiding her hair, relieved at the feel of cool night air on her neck. She pinned the braid in a spiral to the back of her head, and rubbed her face. Gale’s voice intoned from close by. “It’s strange to think we were all safe, in our own beds, just yesterday. And now…” Gliss smirked a little. “Says you. Who’s to say we were all safe? Who even has a bed?” she attempted to joke. Gale nodded solemnly. “You’re right. I was privileged, in my home in Waterdeep. I see that now, even with my–well, the current circumstances.” “We just need to find a healer. Then things will be okay.” Gliss said, more to herself than to him. “You think so?” Gale said, finally looking away from the fire to catch her eyes. “I hope so.” said Gliss. Stretching, Gliss left the fire and walked to Shadowheart’s nook. She had spread a skin on the ground and erected a makeshift tent with sticks. Gliss sat on a rock next to her, and they stared off into the forest for a moment, silent. “Where do you suppose we should start tomorrow?” Gliss asked. “Hmm,” Shadowheart said. “That structure nearby is enticing, but it doesn’t look like a village. More like a ruin. Let’s think on it tonight.” “Yeah, let’s think on it. I can’t even begin to plot a course right now.” Gliss rubbed her eyes. Gliss got up to return to the fire, but Shadowheart shot out a hand, touching her wrist lightly. “Don’t trust that elf, Gliss. Something’s off about him.” Gliss nodded. Yet, she needed to talk to Astarion, make a judgment call. Something was off about him, but Gliss didn’t know what. And she felt uncertain about writing anyone off just yet. “Making the rounds?” Astarion said. He was sitting on his own purloined animal skin, a distance from the fire but not far enough to be out of sight or sound. His long legs sprawled across the ground. Gliss sighed. “Can I sit?” she asked. Astarion made room for her, nodding in assent. Gliss sat down. There was a moment of silence before either of them spoke, and Gliss felt his presence like something at once tangible and intangible. They didn’t touch, but she could feel heat radiating off him from next to her. They stared at the campsite in silence. Then: “Shadowheart told me not to trust you.” Startled, Astarion laughed quietly. “She’s not wrong. I’m most untrustworthy.” He winked at Gliss playfully. Gliss just sat further back, laying down on the animal skin. The glow of the fire was dim here, and she could see the stars even clearer. “To be honest, I don’t trust anyone. I feel like I’ll fall asleep any moment and wake up back in Avernus. This time, I’ll really be dead. A friendly knife in the dark, if you will.” Astarion pulled his legs up, crossing them. “A veritable conundrum. Whatever will you do?” Gliss closed her eyes. “I suppose I’ll wait for the knife, and if it doesn’t come, I’ll get up and keep going.” Astarion watched as she lay there, vulnerable. Unbeknownst to Gliss, a hunger coiled in his stomach, a pit that needed to be filled. Memories of sunlight danced across his skin, warm and bright. “Then you should sleep. I’ll keep watch tonight,” Astarion said.