Chapter Text
The Shadow Cursed Lands – 3 Weeks from the Nautiloid Escape
Moonrise Towers rose up in front of them, a daunting silhouette in the surrounding darkness. Astarion figured that he’d be more terrified or impressed when they finally reached here, especially after all the things that they’d heard about the place. As the case was, however, he just felt...
Tired, mostly.
Between the shadowy curse that infected everything around them with a looming, tense dread, and the constant threat of their luck running out and tentacles sprouting from their jaws, not to mention the exhausting chore of keeping his own, gnawing blood-hunger in check without upsetting his companions too badly, he was – in a word – spent.
And yet, the world continued to require more of him.
He really didn’t understand how people did this all day.
Wyll was currently addressing the guards in front of the tower, giving a decent enough impression of a loyal cultist-freak. The group seemed to have collectively agreed to follow Jaheira’s instructions to infiltrate the tower to find the source of their enemy’s power, which required them to pretend to be crazed zealots that were enamored with the idea of pleasing their new god “The Absolute”. The task ahead of them was going to be annoying, he could already tell.
Not that he had any objections. Or would have had any objections had they decided not to follow Jaheira’s directions. Or had any ideas about what they should do at all, really. The six of them had been travelling together for what felt like eons now, following the thread of any information they could get about their tadpoles, coming up upon numerous dead ends, and accidently causing several upheavals.
But now they were here, where the little wriggling worms in their heads had apparently originated. Astarion glanced around at the tower’s base. Cultists swarmed it, humans, halflings, goblins, drow, and… were those ghouls? Why were there ghouls here? Good gods, how desperate were these cultists for members?
Wyll was wrapping things up with the guards. They seemed fairly convinced of his performance, and the psychic resonance of the worms in their heads made for pretty convincing proof. Eventually, the left guard nodded and gestured towards the door.
“Welcome to Moonrise, True Soul. Go in Her name.”
In spite of his weariness, Astarion did feel a spark of the fear that he had expected as they climbed the stairs to the entrance. In this light, it felt like the tower was going to eat them. His anxiety sparked his almost manic habit of reading each of his companions’ expressions to gauge their moods. He glanced at their faces briefly and subtly.
Shadowheart seemed focused, though on what, it was impossible to tell. She’d been acting strange since they’d entered the shadow curse, mumbling some nonsense about Shar, and how this was her goddess’ darkness, and how she was fated to come here, etc. Pity that Shadowheart was a cleric, in his opinion. She was alright otherwise.
Lae’zel was barely contained, sporting an expression that could only be interpreted as bloodlust, no matter what race you were from. He enjoyed that expression. However, it wasn’t particularly conducive to their cover, as Shadowheart was pointing out to her now, much to her chagrin.
“I am well aware that I cannot slay everyone in my path, Shadowheart, no matter how tempting it may be.” Lae’zel hissed quietly through her teeth.
“Then can you at least try to stop looking like you want to, please?” Shadowheart answered in a more lighthearted tone, a hint of a tease in her voice.
Wyll chuckled softly at their conversation, though his laugh was tinged with anxiety. That tinge, however, was the only thing that gave away his genial facade. He wore his usual easygoing smile, his gait as confident as ever. But Astarion could feel the tension in his blood, even from here. The pressure was on, and Wyll was bearing the brunt of it, as usual.
So let him, Astarion thought.
Just so long as I can dodge out of the way before it crushes him.
Karlach walked just beside Wyll, humming a tune to herself, her utterly insuppressible cheerfulness shining through even here. Astarion really figured that she’d be slightly more subdued, considering that she was recently told that she could die in agonizing pain any day now. But he supposed that the tradeoff of also being able to touch people for the first time in years balanced that out a little. He was sure that she and Wyll had done plenty of touching last night.
Or... maybe that hadn’t. Wyll was very boring, after all.
Lastly, his thoughts turned naturally to the Wizard walking alongside him.
Gale.
Gale’s emotions were plain as day, as per usual. His face was a mixture of awe, curiosity, and anxiety, with anxiety at the forefront.
Understandable, considering both their current situation, and the fact that his goddess had recently commanded him to blow himself up.
After all, for all Gale knew, this “Heart of the Absolute” thing that Mystra was so keen for him to erupt around was in the next room.
Gods below. Gale wasn’t really planning to go through with it, was he? Astarion now found himself more on edge, thinking about what might happen if the Absolute really was around the corner. He could probably talk Gale out of detonating the latent magical orb buried in his chest.
Probably.
Blowing himself up was one thing, after all, but killing Astarion and the rest? Surely Gale wouldn’t.
Astarion’s thoughts were shortly pushed to the back of his mind as the party entered the main hall of Moonrise Towers. The place was worn and crumbling with many years, but still magnificent. Grand arches rose above them, with fine stonework and lofty, if splintered, rafters. Solemn statues stood to the side of the stairway descending to the main hall, where symbols of the Absolute were hung. Here, dozens of fanatic cultists were gathered, chattering to each other with varying degrees of enthusiasm.
“The Absolute called me here! I heard her voice!”
“Come, let us pray.”
“(I didn’t realize that people were so serious about this… Absolute thing…)”
Astarion rolled his eyes subtly. Idiots. Idiots who believed that an overwhelmingly powerful force saw them as anything other than peons. Idiots who thought that happiness and power came easily. Utter morons.
“What’s the plan?” He heard Shadowheart whispering to Wyll.
Wyll’s answer was barely audible, “Infiltrate Moonrise Towers, find the source of Ketheric Thorm’s power, and destroy it.”
Astarion could almost hear Shadowheart’s eyes rolling. “That’s a goal, Wyll. What’s the plan?”
Wyll chuckled again, more genuinely this time. “Come now, Shady. Surely by now you know us better than that?”
Shadowheart let out a half-groan/half-laugh noise. She looked back at everyone, her grey eyes glinting with determination in the dim torchlight of the tower. “We need a plan, Wyll. Why don’t we split up? We’ll be less conspicuous if we look around in smaller groups. We’ll look… clingy, if we all stay together like this.”
Astarion heard Wyll’s blood surge tensely at the suggestion. “I’m… not sure if that’s a great idea, Shadowheart,” he said uncertainly. “If something happens…”
“Then the rest of us have plausible deniability.” Shadowheart finished. “And they can continue the mission, if worse comes to worse.”
Wyll huffed. “That is not what I was going to say at all.”
The dim light of the tower flickered as Wyll considered the idea. Astarion, for one, agreed with Shadowheart. Not that he was going to say anything. But he was pretty sure that Wyll was going to acquiesce anyway.
“The point still stands, I suppose.” Wyll acquiesced. He glanced back at everyone. “Are we in agreement? We split up and meet back here in an hour?”
Astarion nodded, keeping his face agreeable, while Gale looked a bit worried. The others seemed to have no qualms, however.
“Very well, then. I suppose Karlach and I can go together, and –"
In a fraction of a moment, Astarion saw Wyll’s eyes flash with a thought and felt his heart pump a quick beat. His eyes turned towards Gale and Astarion, lips parting to make a comment. But Astarion was faster. He always was.
“And Gale and I can stay together, of course!” Astarion said, flashing a charming smile at Wyll, and then at his wizard, making Gale smile (and maybe blush a little) in turn. He didn’t have to look back at Wyll to see that he was annoyed. Wyll didn’t like them. He liked Gale, surely. And he had at least grown accustomed to Astarion. But he didn’t like them¸ them together.
Meddlesome. It was none of his business.
Nevertheless, he said nothing, but just nodded. Then his smile returned as he looked at Lae’zel and Shadowheart. “You two can behave, can’t you?”
Shadowheart huffed, and Lae’zel narrowed her eyes in annoyance. “I am perfectly capable of keeping her in line. It would be more productive of you to worry about yourself.”
“Keep me in line? As if it were so. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure she doesn’t kill anyone. Not until the time is right, at least.”
Astarion smirked at the rivalry. It was much dialed back from what it had been, but it still cropped up from time to time, much to his entertainment. The party took a collective look around at each other, all nodding in confirmation.
“Well… let’s be off then. See you all in an hour.”
They all split off, murmuring reassurances that they’d be back here in an hour, and returning a motherly “be safe,” from Karlach. Astarion watched them all leave for a long second before turning to Gale with a swaggering smile.
“Well? Ready to explore, my dear?”