Chapter Text
[Act 1]
Neffeyla had died and gone to the hells—and not even her Mistress's domain, at that.
At least, that's what she thought, waking up on hot sand and under an equally hot blue expanse, throat caked in dry air stinging wherever it found moisture. The druid hacked as she sat up, wiping the sand from her face and blinking it from her eyes. Then she immediately regretted opening them, as blinding light poured in.
She muttered a curse in Drowish, shielding her face with her hands. Her head immediately started a nasty headache, of course, forcing a sigh.
Neff staggered to her feet. That looked like a rock there, and—
She grunted as she bumped into something. A few pats later revealed some kind of dirt wall. A cliffside? Her headache worsened as she focused, squinting against the light. What kind of Hell looked like this?
It was some kind of beach, with soft white sand flanked by a massive river and decorated with blood and smoldering debris. Said debris was a mix of gummy, pink and red biological material and dark shell. Right, the illithid ship.
This wasn't the Hells, it was worse. It was the surface. Weeks ahead of schedule, and on half the supplies. Wonderful.
Well, no use moping about it. Who knew what sort of threats were around, just waiting to pounce?
First priority, Neffeyla quickly checked herself over for injuries, but found nothing more than a few scratches and bruises. Alright. Second priority, she needed a way out of this light and shelter, first and foremost. Food and water were a luxury, a replacement for if her magic ran out defending herself. She was begrudged to find none of her weapons had survived with her beyond her backup dagger, strapped tightly to her leg, and her armor was already in tatters. If she remembered the stories correctly, it’d decay over the next few days if she didn’t keep it in the dark, to boot. Sigh. She just brushed off what sand she could before starting off.
Neff didn't see the person on the ground nearby until she nearly tripped over them. “Cursed light,” she hissed, squinting. A corpse? Perhaps she could strip it for equipment…
She crouched, listening closely for breathing. She heard it—faint, but audible. So, not a corpse at all. Neff shaded her eyes again, ears twitching, distinguishing details. Dark hair and eye paint, chain armor… wait a minute…
Why, it was the woman from the ship!
Shadowheart, right, that was her name. So, she hadn't imagined that, or that strange, geometric device clasped tightly in her hand when she’d helped the woman from that pod. Cocking her head, Neffeyla reached for it—and the woman stirred.
Neff flinched back, hand going to her thigh as the unconscious woman grumbled and sat up. “You’re alive—” She sputtered in Common Neff could barely understand, rubbing her eyes. “I’m— I’m alive. How is this possible?” Her hand, clutching the strange device, retreated behind her as she spoke.
“I could ask you the same thing. A fall like that should have killed us both.” She replied in Common and offered Shadowheart a hand up, which she took.
Shadowheart frowned, raising her free hand against the light. Neff certainly didn't blame her. “I remember the ship. I remember falling,” She said, glancing away as she clearly dredged through the mess of memories from the last few hours. “Then… nothing.”
Neffeyla raised an eyebrow. No mention of the strange person who had caught them—or at least her. Either Shadowheart was rightfully withholding information from her, or she'd hallucinated that part. “Did you fall from the ship, or crash with it?” She asked, switching to Elvish. Easier on the tongue and easier to understand, even with its heathenous vocabulary and Shadowheart’s foreign accent.
“I fell just after you,” Shadowheart replied, changing languages herself. She released the drow’s hand, starting to move away, before wincing and clutching her side. “I… think I hit something on the way out. That altar, maybe. I don't remember much of the fall.”
“Let me see.” Neffeyla stepped toward her, but Shadowheart stepped back.
“I'm perfectly capable of healing myself, thank you,” She growled. As if to prove that point, she turned her gaze to her side and uttered a spell: “ Te curo.”
A flash of violet-blue light emitted from her hand, and some of the woman’s tension eased. Shadowheart stood straighter, sighing softly and muttering what sounded like a prayer under her breath.
“So you are a priest,” Neff remarked. “Pray tell, what patron do you follow?”
“I hardly think that's important right now,” She answered. “What we should focus on is finding supplies, shelter, and most importantly, a healer. We might have escaped, but we still have these little monsters inside our heads.”
“We can agree on that.” Neff nodded, scanning the beach. Despite her growing headache, her eyes were beginning to adjust to the light. Details were far and few, but she could at least make out the landscape. It was as expected: a sandy river-beach on one side, high cliffs and hills on the other, and the wrecked illithid ship behind and splattered across the nearby turf. Neff heard the crackles of still-burning fires not far off.
Curiously, she saw no other bodies. There had been multiple others on the ship. How odd. She turned back to Shadowheart, who had begun scavenging through some of the wreckage. “What do you suppose happened to our gith friend? I don't see a body.”
“Either we'll find it, or she ran off without us.” Shadowheart didn't even look up. “Either way, you might want to reconsider calling her a friend.”
“Because she is an elf?”
“An elf?” Shadowheart snorted. “She’s a gith. They’re hardly trustworthy…” She trailed off, scrutinizing the drow as if trying to remember something.
“Neffeyla,” Neff replied. “And I am half surprised you wouldn’t say the same about me.”
“What, because you’re a drow?”
“And you are an elf. Or some part, at least.” Neff cocked her head, thumbing her lip idly. “Human-blooded, if I am right?”
“The word is half-elf, Neffeyla.” The priest scoffed and stalked off, having looted what she could from her current pile of crates. “And no, I don’t have a problem with drow. Particularly not one who saved me from an illithid pod on a crashing ship.”
“Well, that certainly makes this easier, then,” Neff hummed. “You are from the surface, no? Any idea where we are?”
“No… Somewhere near Baldur's Gate, perhaps? This river could be the Chionthar.” Shadowheart paused from her scavenging to glance toward the water. “But anything's an improvement on where we just came from. If we can find others, we can ask for directions.”
“‘We’?” Neff echoed. She trailed after the cleric, moving to inspect a corpse further up the beach. He looked human, dressed in plain clothes, and covered in his own blood. Killed by the impact blast or shrapnel, perhaps. Neff didn't deign to inspect too closely, instead giving the body a quick stab with her dagger to ensure it was truly dead. “Am I bold to assume you would like to stay together?”
The sound of her blade piercing flesh drew a raised eyebrow from Shadowheart. “We need each other, and we both know what's at stake,” She said, turning back and shrugging. “I can't think of better company.”
“Sarcasm?” Neffeyla chuckled. “Hardly any need to worry, my company will grow on you. I am usually more appealing when I have not just survived a sky-ship wreck.”
“I suppose we'll find out.”
Neffeyla hurried to catch up—she was several inches shorter than the woman, despite being tall for her kind—and followed her up to a stone building built into the cliffside. Shadowheart studied a thick wooden door into its side, giving it a tentative rap with her mace. Locked.
“Do not do that,” Neff said, setting her hand on the weapon. “You could wake up whatever is inside.”
“Better to draw it to us than blindly enter its lair,” Shadowheart replied. “Besides, I don't suppose you have lock-picking skills?”
Neffeyla looked up the cliff. She couldn't see the top. “No, but perhaps there is another way in. If so, the place could be large, or a dungeon. Indefensible. No good for shelter.” She glanced back toward the ship. “And it is too close to the wreckage.”
“Fair point.” Shadowheart lowered the mace. “Up the hill, then?”
Neffeyla nodded, taking the lead this time. Before she got too far, though, she noticed Shadowheart had yet to follow. After a moment of apprehension, the cleric spoke.
“One thing, just before we go,” She said. “On the ship, it would've been all too easy for you to run past my pod, but you didn't. I'll remember that. Thank you.”
“You are welcome,” Neff replied. “I could not simply leave a pretty face in need.” And the illithids likely wouldn't have implanted a tadpole in someone useless. She would need allies to get out of here. Two lizards, one stone.
She indicated for the cleric to follow, ignoring her own complaining legs. She didn't hike often, but unfortunately, the situation called for it. Hopefully the dreadful things wouldn't stretch too far, and they could camp on flat terrain. Already, she longed to sleep, but they had a long hike ahead of them first.