Arc 9 Chapter XXV: Underdelving (Patreon)

Many thanks to the local purveyor of pyromancy and deviant behavior for its waffling.

Read le author note please.

The consensus on my crashout last chapter seems pretty clear and I find that I agree with it for the most part, so expect that I will finish Baldur's Gate in the following months before moving on to something else while leaving Sorcerer's Tale to chill for a good long while.

I thank you all for your understanding and support.

Dread author note is over, proceed to le chapter.

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A series of crumbling journals books, and unsent letters were sprawled on the half-rotten table in front of me, repaired to their greatest extent under my magic without tapping into whacky shit like time-reversals.

Not that I could really, only the Dragon Overlady managed that so far, and that with rock instead of paper.

Probably should have had her try something along those lines in the ruins of Apocrypha now that I consider it...

On the other hand, the locals probably had some spell specifically for this kind of thing, their magic system being the whacky collection of simple and ridiculously complex spells that it was, and of course I had just sent my personal purveyor of such away to keep the rest of my posse from a stupid death...

Leaving that annoying train of thought behind I returned to compiling what could be gathered from what was there.

Apparently, the Selunites were engaged in some manner of protracted war against the Sharans.

A rather common occurrence apparently, as the twins (because of fucking course they were) had been feuding and trying to gut each other for the better part of an eternity.

Shadowheart explained it as their core natures clashing (the usual light and dark dichotomy), but I personally found that to be an incredibly stupid fucking reason to wage war for an eternity.

Then again, gods tended to be stupid fucking 'people' a lot of the times.

My personal gripes with the divine aside, the local conflict seemed to revolve around something, or more likely someone, known as Nightsong on the moon worshipper's end.

A prophet of some sort? Some kind of avatar? A divine dalliance even?

I suspected I'd find out eventually, in the most explosive manner possible.

Though I was inevitably hit with the good old 'your princess is in another castle' as this seemed to have merely been some kind of outpost, and my guesses up above were quickly confirmed as the documents revealed this temple to be more of a fortress and resupply station during the conflict instead of any true center of attention.

Still got sieged to death, but hey they didn't get completely deleted from history at least so there was that!

At least I learned something about the Selunites.

As to what prompted my sudden bout of reminiscence?

Well...

"What do you mean, you got your memories wiped?" I asked slowly, rubbing the bridge of my nose.

Of fucking course the little extremist was left with literally just dogma in her head and thrown at a problem like the disposable little idiot she was.

The Sharan cleric didn't look one whit as baffled by the situation as I felt "It is a test of faith." She said with an ingrained kind of fanaticism, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world "And it prevents me from being interrogated should I be captured."

'Prevents your temples from being found you mean?' I parroted mentally, ignoring her non so subtle jab at what I was doing.

Because nothing is quite so telling in a society as polytheistic as the one of this world, as your faith needing to be hidden away from most of polite society, while your most hated foe is widely known to be one of the most benevolent and accepted ones.

She never told me any of this of course, but I wasn't stupid enough not to ask around before departing, and the Tieflings were more than happy to inform me about local affairs.

 "So you willingly gave up a part of your ego?" I drawled, showing none of my thoughts on my face "Just to what? Satisfy one of your patron's domains?"

Said domains being edgy shit like: Darkness, loss, night, secrets, and forgetfulness.

Her eyes narrowed as she reiterated "It is faith."

"Foolish is what it is." Lesser Minthara interjected with an annoyed huff "The Matriarchs would sooner rip their own throats open and allow a male to replace them than accept losing their memory like some sort of mewling weakling."

I hate that I had to agree with the fucking Drow of all things.

Even Karlach and Durge looked to agree, though they kept that fact to themselves.

"I do not seek your understanding." Shadowheart hissed at the full elf.

The Drow gave her a look of disgusted pity, and promptly decided to abandon the conversation.

"Yes, being faithful is cute and all." I interjected with a deadpan "But ask yourself this: If you can have your memory ripped from your mind for this, what else was taken from you that you aren't even aware if you wanted taken or not?"

Exactly as she registered my words I felt her magical scar spiking with divine energy, making her wince and clutch at the hand in question, her great pain clear in her eyes.

"And what kind of god worth following." I went on as if nothing had happened, hand outstretched as if lecturing "Brands their followers like prized cattle?"

Shadowheart's eyes widened and again, just as she so much as internalized the question, the brand started building up an even harsher wave of energy.

But I wasn't trying to prove the point by torturing the poor girl to death, and made a light wave of my hand, effectively ripping the strand of deep blackness before it could 'detonate', and making it lance through the air before slamming into a nearby wall to great caustic effect.

But I did not bother observing the 'divine' phenomenon for more than a blink that would ensure it held no traps, and instead lightly leaned towards the completely and utterly terrified priestess "Before you accept the gods' dogma as truth, consider if such callous and sadistic creatures were ever worth following in the first place."

The presence connected to her brand reacted as you might expect something so lowly to, and began channeling even more power, but I had had enough of such posturing for now, and grabbed the terrified priestess' hand, removing her trembling gauntlet in one swift movement and metaphorically pinching the wound.

The terrified trio behind her were then treated to the glorious sight of me effectively ripping the cursed wound off Shadowheart's hand like a bandaid, before tossing the roiling energies into the beam of moonlight a large statue of Selune was still channeling at the temple fort's gate.

There was a mighty shriek of hateful frustration, an explosion of light against darkness with the light winning out in moments, and then... silence.

The presence constantly looking over Shadowheart's shoulder now had its eyes set firmly at me, glaring with such potent hate most mortals would tremble and loosen their bowels before groveling for mercy.

I merely sniffed in disdain, and waved my hand "Get thee hence, wench."

A light grey-tinted breeze passed through the near-insensate priestess, and now scarless, the connection her patron was trying to maintain snapped like so much dry grass.

Though not before me receiving the mystical equivalent of a string of curses and threats from the offending goddess.

'Bring it, bitch.' I mentally sneered, and piggybacked the 'signal' given by message to send a small... gift her way.

Shadowheart jerked in place, and only Durge's swift steadying grip stopped her from falling over.

"What-" She muttered hoarsely, her previous shield of fanatical certainty peeled off like the mask it was "What have you done?"

"Just banished your meddling shrew of a patron." I shrugged, and all four looked differing levels of terrified "Your bond of faith is still there so don't worry about your powers." I tilted my head "Well that is unless dear Shar cuts it off from her end, of course."

Shadowheart scowled in hateful confusion.

"Naturally abandoning that filth falls to you." I went on easily, as if I was discussing the weather and not someone's fundamental beliefs "I'm not going to solve all your problems after all."

And just as I expected, instead of blowing up at me like a true fanatic would, the young woman merely looked exhausted, slumping like a puppet with its strings cut and further into the usually murderous grip of Durge.

"What are you?" The lesser Minthara muttered.

"Someone enjoying his vacation." I smirked at her, but seeing Karlach's and Durge's annoyed, yet resigned reactions to my words I decided otherwise "How about this. Once we are all gathered I'll introduce myself." I smirked "Properly this time."

"Finally." Durge grunted.

Karlach on the other hand merely shot me a supportive thumbs up.

Did... did she think I was shy or ashamed about it or something?

How... utterly baffling.

Feeling thoroughly confused for the first time in a while I left the duet to calm Shadowheart down and get her head out of her ass, and the Drow to her own devices, and climbed the crumbling gatehouse of the temple just in time to see a minotaur of all things charging at the gates.

As if triggered by the creature's presence, the divinity imbued stone atop the statue of Selune central to the building lit up, and suddenly the roaring creature was incinerated by a... blast of moonlight of all things.

These gods really liked to keep it thematic, huh?

And speaking of gods.

The presence of Shar may have been banished for its motherless behavior, but the presence I was now quite certain was Selune's own attention had only grown since my little display.

There was caution there, careful evaluation of an unknown.

Fair and understandable really.

But that caution was dwarfed by her aura of gentle approval, both for me, and for Shadowheart of all people.

My eyes narrowed "And some people genuinely choose Shar over this?"

The divine spark of attention flickered with what must have been amusement before its attention was demanded by something else and it retreated, leaving only the remnant energies of such a showing, and making the imbued statue glow even more fiercely.

Knowing my little life lesson would delay our excursion, I happily left the others to their devices and whipped out my painting supplies, making myself comfortable atop the gatehouse and beginning to capture the Underdark's eerie glory.

An hour into the work, I heard subtle footsteps, and nearly lost my mood as the Drow ascended the staircase.

She said nothing as she saw what I was doing, merely leaning against the crenelations and watching me work.

Finally, as it seemed my speedy piece was nearing completion she spoke, a bored drawl that hid her genuine appreciation of my art "You would have made a fine art slave in Menzoberranzan."

Of course even the compliment had to be backhanded.

"And you, my most reprehensible of guests." I drawled back, not even bothering to look her way as I added the finishing touches "Would have been executed the instant you set foot in Tamriel, for your implied practice of slavery."

"Hmph!" She scoffed in disdain.

"The others finally ready?" I turned to her, snapping my fingers and unsummoning all of my things.

"Yes, the cleric." One could probably fry an egg on that level of disdain "Finally stopped whining."

"Excellent." I smiled and suddenly we were both in the temple's center, the Drow crouching and reaching for her weapons in a panic only to realize we were teleported.

She scowled at me, the expression only worsening as I smirked, and we moved to rejoin the rest.

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Our first stop was near the temple itself, through a caved in wall we were able to hop over to a serious of cliffside passages that revealed an entire path spreading in multiple directions.

Thankfully, the sudden danger of terrain served as more than enough motivation for my more shaken servants to get their heads back into the game.

Which proved itself rather useful as not even five minutes into our spelunking session we arrived at a rather peculiar sight.

Namely a quintet of five Drow of the petrified variety, and male, because of course my 'guide' couldn't waste the chance to point that fact out.

Luckily for the woman's pride, I was distracted from my harsh and righteous rebuttal to such bullshit by the reason the Drow were all petrified in the first place, as a massive betentacled eye of all things levitated out from a nearby cave, blasting us with disintegration and petrification beams while grinning widely with its maw of a mouth.

I did not immediately jump into the fighting, as Karlach and Minthara were more than enough to keep it pinned while Durge pelted it with ice, and Shadowheart... well she was certainly trying to overcome her numb state of mind.

Anyways, I was more than content to observe the odd creature be ripped apart by my followers while studying its behavior and magic, if not for the little shit directing one of its many tentacle-eyes (because of fucking course the tentacles had eyes) next to me and un-petrifying one of the Drow.

A fact that momentarily baffled me exactly up and until the point at which the complete chucklefuck of an idiot of an elf decided that instead of jumping the thing that imprisoned him like a normal person he'd much more prefer to stab my grey ass.

My amusement disappeared in an instant and my eyes darkened as I turned to look at the now identified Spectator.

The... creatively named creature felt my attention, and immediately tried to bolt.

But it was already too late.

"Scorch." I said, my voice echoing through the cave system "Dinner time."

A wave of primal fear passed through the Spectator and its everything shuddered, but it had spent all of its allotted time, and the prideful shriek of the Glorious Bird Boi overtook all sound for a moment, before it too disappeared under squelching and popping flesh, and sizzling bone.

Needless to say, the remaining Drow we unpetrified afterwards were a bit wiser than their compatriot and did not immediately try to jump us when we saved their asses.

Well, the sight of a warhorse sized phoenix gorging himself on the thing that got them also helped, probably.

The now quartet, consisting of one wizard and three bodyguards, were guarded in answering our questions at first, but both the fact Minthara was one of their female nobility, and I casually turned the Observer's remains to ash once Scorch was done, soon had their tongues wagging.

Apparently they were one of three groups who had heard rumor of an ancient dwarven forge in the area, a forge that supposedly made adamantine in great quantities (the local super metal, as I discovered after some more questioning) called Grymforge.

Like one might expect from Drow, their coherence lasted for all the grand time of barely even a moment as the instant they neared their destination their expedition fell apart to infighting and the three holders of the map leading to the forge scattered to the wind, no doubt finding ends just as pathetic as the group we rescued.

Even if they probably deserved a quick parting with their heads, I was not murderous without reason, and upon extracting as much information as possible about the local Underdark, I let the idiots go their own way, warning them to keep clear of people under my protection.

Though not before secretly marking them just in case, of course.

Fake Minthara tried recruiting them to her own service like the sly little shit she was, but the instant the group saw me being the one in command they realized something thoroughly fucky (for the weak Drow mind) was going on and promptly decided to get as far away as possible from the splash zone.

Surprisingly wise of them, I have to admit.

Thankfully, they weren't quite so foolish as to abandon ship before informing us of everything, and two paths now stood revealed to our choosing, one leading to a local community of mushroom people of some sort, while the other led to an abandoned wizard's tower that had not been cracked open even after decades of crumbling.

I almost laughed at the thought of it being a choice at all.