Chapter Text
The half-drow coiled in on himself, “Blast it all to the nine hells and back!” He barked, when he jumped off the ground and patted his hands down his body. With a crash that big, he truly was a lucky man to find himself alive and almost unharmed. A panic grew within him that sent a painful throb starting behind his eyes, that soon ran down the back of his neck. Both his hands gripped at the sides of his head. Giving it a tight press, in an attempt to soothe himself somehow.
The pain worsens every time while he thinks harder. This pain has been with him ever since he stepped out of the damn pod. Was it the worm? Or could it be something else? All questions he didn't know the answers to.
“f*ck - these gods damn pains!” He spit out at nothing but himself. Not knowing how he ended up in that pod. Let alone his own birth name. If he was going to figure out who kidnapped him? He needs to calm down first.
With this thought he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. While he stood stock still, he vowed to himself that he wasn't going to die. Not until he saw whoever stuffed him in that pod was killed. The longer he thought on this, his visions behind his eyes turned red with images of the events that would aspire once he found them. Warmth and happiness washes over him at the sight of artistically mutilated bodies that are displayed on pikes and hung from the ceiling of a castle made from nothing but bones.
A loud clanking pushes him from his mind, he turns around on a dime and readies himself for a fight. Two toned eyes spot a big piece of alien metal falling off the crashed ship he was next to. His belly turns with bile at the sight of sun and the sounds of nature. All signs that the world was very much still alive.
Regret takes over him, forcing the bile up into his throat and he falls to his knees at the burning acid feeling. Drool started to spill out his mouth when he leaned over on his hands. He could feel the contents of his belly moving up into his throat and he closed his eyes while he vomited down into the sand. His right hand moves up to wipe the leftover bile from his lips as he takes slow shallow breaths.
This wasn't the time to have a meltdown over his morbid mind. If he was going to be weak. Might as well cut it off right here and now. Better to die by his own hands then suffer at the hands of some monster. His face hardens at the thought of ending it all. He isn't a weak man or so he thinks. There was still so much he wanted to do.
With a hard shake of his head, he rids himself of these thoughts and focuses on making a plan.
A weapon is a good place to start. He thinks to himself while he snaps his fingers. His two-toned eyes scan over the land around him. A sense of hope has him almost running over to the scattered stack of burned crates that lay just a few feet away from him.
“What the hell am I supposed to do with a f*cking lute and a damn piece of gross cheese?” He grumbles to himself, when he grips the tops of his legs. His gaze moves back over the items he found.
"I guess I could always beat someone to death with it." He sighs out before leaning back and closing his eyes again.
The blackness of his mind turns blood red once again. Sending him into a laughing fit at the sight of the lute smashing into the head of an Illithid and spilling its brain matter up onto his face. The thought was nice, but-he can't fight with just a hunk of carved wood and broken strings.
His hands run through his shaggy salt and pepper hair, calloused fingers push back the loose strands around his face before they grip tightly and give them a rough yank.
Pain blooms along his scalp under his hands and he takes a few calming breaths while he focuses his thoughts. His eyes snap open at the tingle of a memory of what he thinks is his past. He leans forward, grabs the neck of the lute tightly and stands onto his feet. While he walks over to prop himself up on a large rock, he fixes the lute properly across his body. The calloused fingers of his left-hand rub over the loose strings on the stock. He smiles when the feeling of déjà vu washes over him and before he knew it his hands moved on their own. Guiding his fingers over the spokes in a skillful manner as he mindlessly tightened the strings and tunes them. It was like he had done this a million times before.
His other hand plucks at the cords and with each pass soft music plays around him. He closes his eyes and hums along with the tune. A buzzing tingle moved down his arms and got stronger the moment it reached his fingertips. Eyes widen the second he looks down at the strings. A soft purple glow adorns the tips of his fingers. Joy takes over his face, making him smile at this newfound information that he is a bard.
The tingle of the weave turns acrid under his skin. Making him suck in a breath at the now burning sensation that washed over his hands and lower arms. Closing his eyes he lets his breath out; despite the pain he keeps playing. All while he reminds himself to stay calm. The anger inside him soon withered and so did the pain. His smile returns to his lips when the soft purple glow brightens with each pass of his hand.
His calm mood didn’t last long; it was soon replaced with anger the longer he plucked at the cords, and nothing happened. Just the soft hum of the weave and that damn purple glow. He might as well just end it all right now just like he thought just a moment ago.
“f*cking hells!” He curses loudly when his hand forcefully strikes the now tight cords. A loud magic sizzle rings through the air, followed by the boom of a lightning bolt hitting something in front of him.
His two-toned eyes widened in disbelief while his head bobs to the side, as a burned piece of flesh wizzes past his head. He watches it land behind him, his nose crinkles up at the smell of burnt hair before he quickly turns back towards the forest. Without a second thought, he drops the lute and dashes over towards the bush. Sliding down onto his knees in front of a large scorch mark on the ground. A pit sinks into his chest at the hopelessness that took him. His belly growled at the smell of cooked meat. Reminding him just how hungry he truly was.
“sh*t - That could have been dinner.” He whines aloud when his pointed ears droop and his hands dig into the skin of his belly.
He quickly stands and brushes off the knees of his pants
“Guess it’s just cheese for lunch.” He angrily mumbles out. With a heavy breath, he forces himself to walk back over to the rock and pick up the discarded lute. Propping himself back up onto it while letting out a soft defeated sigh. His hands fumble for a second before he pulls out the dried-out cheese slice from his leather pants pocket. The second he takes a large bite; his lips turn up in disgust at the sour taste and bile once again turned within his belly.
With a rough swallow, He begrudgingly finishes off the cheese in two large bites. Gurgling has him grabbing his stomach while he thinks of anything but puking again.
“If this journey won't kill me. Eating bad food will.” He states with a growl; while he lifts his head and straightens his back. With another gulp and balled up fist, he sets off down the shoreline. Blisters formed on the sides of his feet the further he walked. He raised his head towards the sky, watching as the sun rose higher above his head. The hot rays burned his dark purple skin, and he could feel sand spilling into his leather boots causing the pain to worsen on his already tired feet.
The heat has him wobbling his neck from the feeling of sweat beading up along the back of it. His right hand moves up to wipe it away as a pain behind his right eye has him groaning softly to himself. The hand on his neck moves a few times before running up to his right eye and pressing on it softly. He lets out a soft sigh of relief when some of the pressure was expelled.
The light sound of waves crashing up onto the shore. Catches his attention. He looks over at the blue sea, watching it move while his feet drag painfully across the sand. His mouth opened, lips sticking together, and his tongue came out to wet them slightly.
“Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad to stop and cool off for a bit.” He breathes out tiredly, the second his feet carry him over to the edge of the water. Cool water washed over his boots, it sinks into the thick leather and helped soothe the sting of the blisters that lined the soles of his feet.
He closes his eyes, leans down and lets his hands rub over his legs. The lute on his back falls down to his side while he breathes slowly. Enjoying the way his legs relaxed and the painful throb of over work leaves them. Popping riddles his knees the moment he bends down and scoops up a handful of cool water and splashes it up onto his face. The heat in his skin slowly dissipated and he rolled his shoulders as the water washes down his back. At this moment he couldn’t find it in him to be bothered that his once dry shirt was now clinging to his skin.
He repeated this action a few more times, before leaning his head back, letting the water run down his face, neck and chest. His body relaxed more when all of the blistering heat leaves his skin.
With a sigh he breathed out to himself; “Damn-that feels so good.” His moment of peace was soon cut short by the sounds of magic and shouting from up ahead of him. His pointed ears flatten on the sides of his head as he tries to listen closer and judge how far away the fighting appeared to be.
A painful migraine pounds at his skull, sending his vision blurry and the world spinning. Hands rubbing tiredly down his face and neck while he lets out a long-frustrated groan at the pain spreading to his temples. When he pressed on the sides of his head, his mouth gaped open on a silent scream when a twinge of pain rushes down his spine from the feeling of the parasite wiggling and thrashing within his skill. His chest rose and fell heavily with each breath before he faced plants into the water. His lungs burned at the lack of air, yet he still forced himself under, cutting off his breathing further until the worm stopped its painful pursuit at melting his brain.
Lungs heave the moment he pulls himself out of the shallow water. He revels in the silence that washed over his once painful mind. Only to bellow out in pain once again. The worm thrashed harder and a sense of fear that wasn't his own enters his thoughts. He pulls himself up out of the water, ears twitching at the yelling that grew louder with each crack of magic hitting the ground. He takes a deep breath and grumbles to himself while he breathes out; “Not my fight.”
These words send a pulsing pain behind his eyes that makes his head turn to the side as his left hand pats the side of his face softly. He would be useless in a fight. Then there was the fact that the dark urge inside him threatens to consume everything around him. He would hate to go ahead and accidentally save someone just to end up being their demise.
Quickly he is pushed from his thoughts by the parasite thrashing and pulsing again. He growls out; “f*cking hells! Shut up already!” Calloused fingers pull on his now wet hair as he thrashes his head around while his mind is completely taken over by white hot pain that sends him stumbling back into the sand. He lands on his butt with a soft thud. White turned to red the second his mind was taken over by anger towards the gods damn worm. Two toned eyes rolled back into his sockets, when the pain turned to a burning cessation and he could feel his skill heating up every passing moment he resisted the pull from the parasite.
A wobbly cry leaves his lips, the moment he tries to stand on shaky legs. “Alright…..fine.” He utters out in defeat.
The pain in his mind steadily decreased the further he dragged himself along the shore. His tired legs twitch and throbs with each heavy step. His pace quickens when yelling turns to screams of pain. He grips the strap of his lute, while his heart races when the feeling of fear takes him. He took as calm a breath he could and cleared his mind. Reading himself for the fight to come.
