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Stepping through the portal, Gortash had finally made it to Cania; the layer of hell in which Mephistopheles ruled and where his precious vaults lie. The cool air of the new environment hit the banite’s semi-exposed face, making him adjust his scarf to better cover it.
Even with a cold resistance elixir and the most protective and magical gear he could get his hands on, the aggressive freezing temperature of the eighth layer of hell was no joke. Had he not prepared as well as he did, he surely would’ve turned into a frozen treat the moment he stepped through the portal from the drastic temperature change alone.
Looking around, the landscape was full of snow and ice; massive glaciers and snowy mountains as far as the eye could see. Gortash didn’t want to stay any longer than necessary as the sight had him feeling far from welcome.
At least the weather was half nice, only snowing mildly with no snowstorm yet on their hands. He knew they were a frequent occurrence in Cania.
Looking behind himself, Gortash watched as the Dark Urge made his way through the portal as well, finally joining him. The dragonborn wore a red fur cloak and thick clothing appropriate for the trip, as well as a fun trapper on his head specifically fit for dragonborn. It was the first time he’d seen the assassin with a hat on, and it suited him.
With the help of Helsik, they got a portal open that sent them somewhere nearby Mephistopheles’ vaults – nearby in this case meant a several hour long hike away, which was far from ideal.
Gortash had hoped for a portal directly into the vault which held the Crown of Karsus, but alas, Helsik denied that request, saying it would be too risky of a job on her behalf.
It was very unfortunate, as he and the Dark Urge had to make their way over to the vaults on foot, then walk all the way back to the same location where they came from to get out of Cania. After their hopefully successful heist, they’d ask for Helsik to open up the portal again with the sending stone securely held within Gortash’s bag of holding.
Even if travelling back and forth such a distance would take time, they’ve at least made it to Cania and knew the best way to get to the vault which held the crown they desired. The two Chosen had time to plan out a route for them to take once they entered the portal, having a map on hand for the occasion of their robbery.
Before continuing any further, Gortash needed to know if his ally’s gear would keep him isolated and warm for the entire trip. There’d be no robbery if he froze to death on the way. Gortash was ambitious, but he wouldn’t lie to himself, he needed the Dark Urge for this heist.
“Too cold, or are you holding up?” Gortash asked, earning a gruff sound from the assassin.
The Dark Urge shook his head, “I can barely feel the cold,” he replied curtly, moving closer to Gortash to stick his hand into his bag of holding. With a little rummaging, the assassin took out their much needed map.
Unfolding it with care, the Dark Urge pointed forward, murmuring a quick “this way” then began to follow the route they’d agreed on. Gortash was appreciative of the assassin’s to-the-point attitude, not wanting to stand around and waste time.
Gortash followed after, though the long strides of the Dark Urge had him somewhat lagging behind.
Nearly half an hour had passed, and they were still on their way. So far they’d made their way over icy terrain and snow that reached up to hip height. Gortash was really feeling the exhaustion. But even with the uncomfortable speed at which his heart was pounding in his chest, he felt a pleasant warmth spread across the once cool skin of the exposed half of his face, so he trudged on.
When they finally got to an area with shallower snow, Gortash felt the need to let himself have a small break. “I say we take a good break here,” Gortash announced, his hands resting on his knees, catching his breath.
The Dark Urge turned around, a displeased expression on his face, “already?”
“We’ve just forced our way through snow nearly up to our waists, I think we deserve a rest stop,” the banite replied, feeling just a tinge offended by the dragonborn’s one word reply. What could he possibly mean by already? He had stamina, Gods damn it.
The Dark Urge didn’t seem to agree with Gortash’s statement. “We take our break when we’re halfway to our goal,” he insisted, not letting the banite have his way.
One of the many reasons Gortash liked his ally was because he was no pushover or people pleaser, so even with the first feeling of annoyance at his reply, there came a more pleased feeling that made its way forward.
“Alright, we’ll continue on,” Gortash agreed, standing up straight again and taking a deep breath, “lead on.”
With that settled, the dragonborn looked ahead and began walking again, Gortash following after. It could’ve just been in his head, but Gortash swore his ally walked slower, the banite not lagging behind as much anymore.
It was easier to traverse with the snow only reaching to their calves, and the break that Gortash had once wanted felt now unnecessary. With little physical demand on his muscles his heart rate lowered to a more tolerable pace.
Aside from the Dark Urge and himself, they hadn’t encountered anything living; the snowy realm seemed almost barren of life. Aside from the faint and far inbetween echoes of inhuman sounds coming from long distances away, there was nothing alluding to life in their immediate area.
They were far enough away from any Gelugon territories to not worry about being spotted.
Just a good twenty minutes later they were faced with a bridge over a drop. It was an expected sight, they had planned to cross it after all. The bridge was the only man-made construction they’ve seen at this point. The good shape of the bridge hinted that it must’ve been magically protected in some way, as it still stood for who-knows-how-long for it to be included in their current map.
The bridge was made of rope and wooden planks, a thin layer of ice covering them which could make crossing without slipping difficult.
Luckily for Gortash, his fur boots made him unable to slip on icy surfaces.
Approaching the bridge, Gortash looked down and was uncomfortable with the sight; a deep chasm stretching far across the icy landscape, almost seeming bottomless with how dark it was below. They had to cross it via the bridge as going around the stretch of the chasm would add yet another hour or more to their trip.
Pushing away his discomfort, Gortash tested the bridge with one foot first; stepping on the plank and applying pressure.
The bridge held him like he’d suspected, no creaking or cracking of rotten wood to be heard. Putting all his weight on the bridge made his uneasiness vanish fully. This bridge would hold.
Gortash took a few steps onto the bridge, slowly making his way over but stopping nearly midway when it felt like he was crossing alone. He had completely looked over the fact that the Dark Urge was no longer before him.
“Hm?” Gortash held onto the rope railing with his right hand as he looked behind himself, quickly spotting his ally. The Dark Urge stood still and was a good distance away from him, a few feet away from the bridge, even.
Squinting to get a better look at the dragonborn’s face, Gortash’s eyes took in the assassin’s expression: eyes wide and face tense, like he was frozen in time. An expression he’d never seen the confident and brave assassin wear before.
“Are you coming?” Gortash asked, patiently waiting for his ally to catch up. Maybe the dragonborn put up an act on his endurance and needed a break himself?
When the banite’s question was heard, the Dark Urge seemed to snap out of it. He slowly approached the bridge although in an odd manner, like he really didn’t want to. His footsteps were much lower to the ground, so much so that it could be argued he wasn’t even lifting his feet anymore; dragging tons of snow with him with each ‘step’.
Gortash raised a curious eyebrow at how weird the Dark Urge was suddenly behaving, his eyes never leaving the dragonborn. There was obviously something strange going on, and he was going to figure out what.
As the Dark Urge stood before the bridge, just a step away from placing his foot on the first plank, he looked terrified. The terror only graced his face for a split second with the Dark Urge actively putting on a facade to seem unbothered, however Gortash saw past it.
It didn’t take long before Gortash understood what was going on with him.“It’s sturdy, there’s nothing to worry about,” he said, hoping that would be enough to convince the Dark Urge to cross.
But it was not.
With a purposeful peek down to the never ending depth beneath the bridge, the dragonborn instinctively took a quick step back to avoid the danger, his heavy and almost panicked breaths visible even with his thick layers of clothes.
“I will go around,” the Dark Urge murmured like he’d made up his mind. Turning to the right and walking off, the dragonborn followed the edge of the chasm at a distance that felt comfortable for him.
Perplexed, Gortash made his way off the bridge and hurried towards his ally, “are you out of your mind? Walking around this chasm? It’ll take you hours,” he stated, clearly annoyed with this spontaneous change to their plan.
When the dragonborn didn’t reply and kept on walking, Gortash grabbed his arm, “you knew this chasm was here when we planned to take this route, you knew we’d have to cross a damn bridge! You cannot take a detour, I won’t allow it.”
Growling, the Dark Urge pushed away Gortash’s arm before pocketing the map. He faced Gortash with an irked look in his eye, “now that I've seen it up close and in person I know for a fact that bridge won’t hold me, I’m nearly two of you,” the Dark Urge said loudly and aggravated, poking the banite in the chest. “You standing on that flimsy bridge doesn’t prove anything.”
“It will hold you,” Gortash replied with confidence, which didn’t seem to convince the dragonborn in the slightest. He would have to try something else.
Gortash reached for his bag of holding, “I wish I brought some spare potions of flying, but regrettably, I did not. We need those for when we’re at the vaults. I do, however, have a feather fall potion. Would that make you feel any braver?”
The Dark Urge crossed his arms, the look on his face showing how uncertain he still was about the whole ordeal, though he didn’t say no to the potion. Good, Gortash thought. The assassin complies.
Getting out one of the feather fall potions, Gortash handed it to his ally who then chugged it down; not a single drop left when he finished it and let the empty bottle fall to the snowy ground.
“Are you willing to cross the bridge now?” Gortash questioned.
“No.”
Gortash groaned, this was the most difficult Bhaal’s Chosen had ever been. “You can’t be serious. You’re crossing that bridge with me whether you like it or not,” he demanded, grabbing the big dragonborn’s gloved hand and steering him towards the crossing. “You're wasting our time, assassin.”
With how big the Dark Urge was, he could’ve easily yanked his hand back, but he allowed the banite to guide him; though very stubborn. The assassin made Gortash work for it, and it certainly felt like dragging a big rock on a leash. “I don’t know what’s down there should I fall, Gortash,” the dragonborn replied, his tone more than hesitant.
Dragging the Dark Urge’s hand forcefully and not letting him go, Gortash managed to get his ally to stand right before the bridge. “Oh come on, you won’t fall,” he doubtlessly claimed, needing to speak sense into the big dragonborn.
Gortash looked up into the Dark Urge’s eyes, looking as confident as possible as he tried to put the dragonborn’s worries at ease, “I understand that you’re afraid, but it’s irrational. This bridge is sturdy, I wouldn’t have stood on it otherwise. I wouldn’t lie to you, you should know that by now.”
Holding eye contact, the Dark Urge scowled. “Fine, you’re correct. Maybe the bridge is sturdy enough,” he admitted, his angry expression faltering ever so slightly. Gortash could see the fright in the Dark Urge’s red eyes that he attempted to hide, “but even then I don’t trust my own steps with this… this terror I’m experiencing, looking at that dark void underneath it,” the dragonborn murmured, being surprisingly open and honest. “I’ll fall because of myself.”
Gortash hummed, he’d have to think of a way to get the dragonborn over without wasting potions and scrolls meant exclusively for the heist. If the Dark Urge didn’t trust himself to cross safely…
Suddenly, an idea hit Gortash that might just work.
“Would you rather trust me with your safety?” Gortash asked, watching how the assassin’s eyes blinked in confusion. “I’ll carry you over,” he clarified.
“You can’t be fucking serious,” the Dark Urge said, ripping his hand out of Gortash’s hold. Right, he’d been holding it for some time now. The dragonborn’s eyes tensed in disbelief at the suggestion of being carried, “you’ll throw me over, banite.”
He chuckled at his reply, “now why would I do that? You’re my most valuable ally, and I very much need you to be able to complete this heist. Successfully, might I add.”
Buttering up the assassin appeared to work, as the Dark Urge seemed more willing to cross. “Alright, that is true. I am very important,” he voiced in agreement, “but I’m sure you’re not able to carry me. I’m big.”
There was no lie there, the dragonborn was a big man with a lot of heavy muscle. “You’re underestimating me, my dear,” Gortash began, a slight smile appearing on his face, looking the Dark Urge up and down. “I can. Want me to prove it?”
Confusion crossed the dragonborn’s face for a moment before he quickly frowned, “what are you doing? Don’t come closer,” the Dark Urge growled as Gortash approached him by a step, the dragonborn taking a step back. His nerves were acting up again, this time from the thought of being lifted.
Gortash continued his calm pursuit, “it’s just us, my friend. No one will know I carried you, or your fear of heights.”
As much as Gortash would love to properly tackle the assassin’s fear of heights, they were wasting time on an important mission. Fortunately for him, the Dark Urge had appeared to reluctantly accept his fate of being carried; standing still and staring daggers at him.
Inching closer, Gortash was just at arms length away from the Dark Urge. “Now if you’ll let me, I’ll hold you safely to my front,” he said, prepared to pick up the assassin who undoubtedly was killing him over and over again in his mind.
Without wasting another second, Gortash lowered himself just enough to hook his arms around the Dark Urge’s muscular thighs, using his strength to hoist the heavy dragonborn up from the ground with a soft grunt.
The Dark Urge wrapped his legs around Gortash’s waist, instinctively grabbing onto the banite’s shoulders to feel some semblance of being grounded.
The first thing on Gortash’s mind was how he really should be giving his ally a piggyback ride, as their current position would be impairing his sight; a wide set of shoulders in the way of his vision. Not that he’d admit to that out loud as it would certainly make the Dark Urge scramble out of his grasp like a cat afraid to be bathed.
The second thought was how this was the closest he’d ever been with the Dark Urge, noticing how warm the assassin’s body felt against him despite the cold chill of Cania. Gortash could hear the deep breaths the dragonborn took, he could feel them with each rise and fall of his chest against his own. The way the Dark Urge held onto him so tightly, like he’d die should he not.
It was very pleasant.
“See? I’m having no issues,” Gortash said, shifting his hold under the Dark Urge’s thighs to get a more comfortable grip on them. Yes, the assassin was heavy, especially heavy for most, but bearable for a short moment. He could probably hold him for a few minutes, more than needed for this occasion. “Lean a bit to the left for me.”
“Gods, we’re really doing this,” the assassin uttered unhappily while leaning his torso more to the left, Gortash now able to see just fine. “Just get this over with- no, actually, take your time. Don’t kill us.”
Gortash smiled. Holding the dragonborn as he walked to the dreaded bridge yet again, he reassured his ally once more, “I swear on my beating heart, I won’t let any harm befall you.”
“Befall? Really? Now you’re actively messing with me.” The Dark Urge’s legs tensed around Gortash’s waist, the anxiety no doubt flaring up the closer they got. There was no chance he’d be able to pry the Dark Urge off him with how hard the assassin was clinging to him. Not that he wanted to do so anyway.
The banite didn’t reply to the dragonborn’s comment, instead focusing on where he placed his foot as he took his first step onto the first plank.
The Dark Urge grabbed at Gortash’s upper arm, his sharp nails easily felt through his gloves and the thick fabric of the banite’s clothes, “don’t you dare slip,” he muttered, Gortash feeling the dragonborn shift in his hold like he was now actively looking down, which probably wouldn’t help him keep calm. “it’s a long drop…”
“My boots won’t allow me to,” Gortash calmly replied, taking another step; now off the ground with their full weight on the bridge. “Please refrain from looking down and making it a lot worse for yourself, would you?”
Gortash couldn’t see the Dark Urge’s face, but with the unintelligible, quiet muttering coming from the dragonborn the banite assumed that he begrudgingly complied. “I'll drag you with me should you try to throw me, and I’ll be ripping out your entrails mid air,” the dragonborn hissed, and would without a doubt follow through with his gnarly promise.
There was no need for betrayal on his side, so the threat held no actual weight. He didn’t know the Chosen of Bhaal that well yet, but he was certain the two of them were on the same page in that regard. “I understand,” he replied to the assassin. “Think, if anything happens, your featherfall potion has yet to expire. The only life on the line is mine, if that makes you feel any better.”
A huff was heard by the side of Gortash’s head, “you don’t know what’s down there, but yes. Makes me feel a little better.”
Continuing on with careful steps, mostly to appease his frightened ally, Gortash had managed to get half across with no issues. Stepping on the icy planks made little to no sound until his boot made a loud crunch when it broke into some ice covered snow on the next step.
It was nothing to worry about, yet the sound was loud enough to set panic in the Dark Urge. His legs tightened around Gortash’s waist to the point it was difficult for him to draw in breaths. It was certainly impressive, but not at all helpful for their current situation.
Shifting in Gortash’s grasp like he was on the verge of losing it and thinking they were about to fall, the Dark Urge cursed and raised his voice, “hells, you need to turn around right now or I’m gnawing off your arm! Don’t think I’m not ready to make you my final offering to Bhaal.”
Gortash grimaced as the Dark Urge continued to worsen his own anxiety, throwing all sorts of threats at him. Gortash had to sink his gloved fingers more into the squirming dragonborn’s thighs in an attempt to stop him from moving any more. It was not effective.
If the Dark Urge moved it could make him lose his balance which was not ideal when standing right above a chasm. He was beginning to regret putting them into this precarious situation, not counting for the chance of the assassin having a freak-out.
“You’re not dying, and neither am I. Stay calm for me,” Gortash spoke as calmly as he could, though a bit strained; the dragonborn’s thighs were still squeezing his midsection like a vice. He was trying not to agitate the Dark Urge any further even if he felt frustrated at his behavior. “The sound came from the snow, you’re not in any danger.”
Sense seemed to hit the Dark Urge, and he quieted down and stopped moving around from his unexpected scare. With no more fuss coming from his ally, he resumed his steps. Gortash had been close to letting his bubbling impatience show, but was glad he held it back.
“You’re doing well, we’re nearly there,” Gortash praised, the other end of the bridge closing in. “I’ve got you.”
Hearing Gortash’s reassuring words, the assassin’s frame relaxed and his muscles lost their tension; letting himself lean more into the banite’s hold. Gortash felt less crushed by the Dark Urge’s legs in turn. “Good boy.”
The last part of praise was unnecessary and Gortash knew that very well, but he said it anyway.
The Dark Urge didn’t say a single thing in return, and Gortash began to wonder if he even heard him in the first place. Nevertheless, he decided to not poke the killer any further.
With one last step, they’ve finally reached the other side, Gortash’s boots sinking into the snowy terrain. The Dark Urge was not making any move to get down on his own now that they were on solid ground again, probably still feeling some amount of adrenaline from crossing the bridge.
Having carried the assassin for some time Gortash was beginning to feel his arm muscles tire out, so as much as he enjoyed the feeling of being clinged to and relied on, he had to let him down.
When he put his ally down slowly, the Dark Urge planted his feet against the firm ground below and let out an audible, relieved sigh. Gortash wondered if the Dark Urge wished he’d just crossed on his own after the scare halfway over.
The Dark Urge reached into his pocket, taking out the map to continue their journey to Mephistopheles’ Vaults, “we don’t speak of this moment. Ever,” he grumbled quietly. Even when bearing an annoyed expression, there was something that told Gortash he was thankful.
“Fine by me, but you know we still have to use the bridge on our way back,” Gortash reminded him with a smile on his face, “so unless you’ve miraculously gotten over your little fear, we’ll have to do it all over again.”
Giving the banite half a glare, the Dark Urge spoke after a brief silence, “I’m not crossing on my own.”
Even if there was a lack of enjoyment on his ally’s side, Gortash felt the complete opposite; looking forward to having the assassin place his trust in him again. The dragonborn’s admittance to needing him in this situation made Gortash feel oddly powerful.
He wouldn’t tell him that, as he didn’t want to risk damaging their surely-budding friendship as they continued to be allies.
“Then you can count on me,” Gortash said and gave the Dark Urge a more genuine smile, watching the dragonborn look away.
Straightening the map, the Dark Urge’s eyes trailed over the route they’ve taken so far, “just another half hour and we’re at our destination. Let’s focus,” he declared, looking back into the banite’s eyes.
The Dark Urge’s previous frightened look was nowhere to be seen anymore. His neutral expression on his face effortlessly looked intimidating and confident, silently telling others that he didn’t have the capability to even feel scared.
Before, Gortash would’ve believed that, but now he knew for certain that was false. The Dark Urge seemed flawless, and knowing that the Chosen of Bhaal had his own personal fear made the Dark Urge seem relatable and reachable, in many sorts of ways.
“No need to tell me twice,” Gortash replied with a nod. The two began walking again, this time side by side.