Prototype's Gate

"An audience with Elminster is never less than memorable. I suppose it's time we deal with the hollyphant in the room: You have questions for me, and I promise I have answers," Gale said, looking at his companions with a mix of resignation and determination.

"What's this 'orb' Elminster was talking about?" Wyll asked, his brow furrowing in concern.

"Ah. Well, that's rather a long and complicated story," Gale began, his voice tinged with a mix of melancholy and nostalgia. "I'm what one might call a wizard prodigy, who from an early age could not only control the Weave, but compose it, much like a musician or a poet. Such was my skill that it earned me the attention of the Mother of Magic herself, the Lady of Mysteries, the goddess Mystra. She revealed herself to me and became my teacher. In time, she became my muse, and later, even my lover." A small, wistful smile appeared on Gale's face as he remembered his time with Mystra.

"YOU HAD SEX WITH A GODDESS?!" Astarion shouted, his usual calm and controlled demeanor shattered by sheer astonishment.

"Oh yes. We enjoyed each other's company—body, mind, and soul. But even so, I desired more. You see, no matter how powerful a wizard we mortals can become, we never scratch more than the surface of the Weave. Mystra keeps us in check. There are boundaries she doesn't let us cross. Yet every time I was with her, I stood on the precipice, gazing into the wonders that lay beyond. I sought to cross her boundaries."

"You thought you knew better than Mystra? You're more a fool than I thought," Shadowheart critiqued from the side, her voice dripping with disdain.

"At the time, yes," Gale admitted, his eyes darkening with regret. "I tried to convince her. I pouted, I pleaded, I swore my ambition was only to serve her better. But she only smiled and told me to be contented. As inconceivable as it seems to me now, I shared a bed with a goddess and yet I wasn't satisfied. So I thought to prove myself worthy to her instead. We come now to the crux of my folly. Shall I share the story behind it, or would you rather head straight to its sordid finale?"

"Go straight to the sordid, we don’t have all day," Astarion said, flinching as Karlach elbowed him in the side.

"I'm intrigued. Tell us more," Karlach said, her voice softening with genuine interest.

"Very well. Here goes," Gale said, taking a deep breath. "Once upon a very long time ago, a mighty lord lived in a tower—a flying tower, to be precise. I'll save his history for another time, but the gist of it is that he sought to usurp the goddess of magic so that he could become a god himself. He almost managed, but not quite, and his entire empire—Netheril—came crashing down around him as he turned to stone. The magic unleashed that day was phenomenal, roiling like the prime chaos that outdates creation. Even the Weave itself could not withstand the onslaught. It fractured, then shattered, and all magic was lost to the mortal realms until the day Mystra returned. She restored the Weave, reuniting all its scattered shards. Or so I thought, until in the course of my studies, I learned of a book. A Netherese tome in which a piece of the fractured Weave had been sealed beyond her reach. 'What if,' I thought, after all this time, I could return this lost part of herself to the goddess?"

"What was the answer to the question?" Ellyka asked, captivated by Gale's story.

"The answer was to try, and the outcome was to fail," Gale said with a tone of self-disgust. "I was certain that this deed of raw power draped in romance would convince Mystra to take me by the hand and welcome me into her hitherto forbidden domains. I was mistaken." Gale's voice was filled with bitterness. "I obtained the fabled book and took it into my study. As for what happened next... Here. Place your hand over my heart. Let me show you."

Gale knelt down before the party, opening his robes to reveal a tattoo of a circle, its wispy tendrils extending all the way to his left eye.

Wyll gently placed his hand over Gale's chest, and the tattoo began to glow with arcane energy. The tadpole inside Wyll's head and the rest who had them started quivered as the tattoo's light grew brighter and brighter. Gale grabbed Wyll's hand to keep it in place.

They saw through Gale's eyes, staring down the corridors of a dread. A book, bound, then suddenly opened. Inside there were no pages, only a swirling mass of blackest Weave that pounced. Its teeth, its claws, it's unstoppable as it dug through and became part of yourself. And gods, it was ever-hungry...

"How are you still alive?" Wyll asked, his voice shaking from the intense memories.

"That was a harrowing experince. " Karlach said from the side.

"It was almost as bad as Cazador torture " Astarion said.

"Thankfully, the moment I absorbed the fragment wasn't enough to kill me outright. It was only the beginning," Gale said as the tattoo's light dimmed and he let go of Wyll's hand. "This Netherese blight... this orb, for lack of a better word, is balled up inside my chest. And it needs to be fed. As long as I absorb traces of the Weave from potent enough sources, it remains quiet. Were it ever to fully destabilize, however..."

"You will die," Karlach whispered, her hand covering her mouth in shock.

"I will erupt," Gale responded with a grave face. "I don't know the exact magnitude of the eruption, but given my studies of Netherese magic, I'd say even a fragment as small as the one I carry... It'd level a city the size of Waterdeep. Fortunately, this need no longer be a concern. Not until I meet the Heart of the Absolute—whatever that is."

"Thanks, Gale, for telling us you could have killed us at any moment," Astarion said full of sarcasm. "Does anyone else keep hiding secrets that could get us kill ?"

"Now that you know all there is to know about me, I will not judge you if you don’t want me in your party anymore," Gale said, looking at each of them with solemn eyes.

Wyll put his hand on Gale's shoulder and looked him in the eyes. "You are our friend, and we will find a way to save you."

"I would say more colleagues than friends," Astarion muttered, earning another elbow from Karlach.

"Karlach, if you burn my clothes, I swear I'm gonna stab you while you sleep," Astarion said, glaring at the tall tiefling.

"Try me, cuteface," Karlach shot back, her eyes narrowing.

"Can you kill each other after we reach the shadow-cursed lands?" Glut said from the side with a tired voice.

Karlach and Astarion broke their staring contest and looked the other way.

"Glut is right. Let's go," Wyll said, turning to the corridor filled with gray roots.

They stopped to look at the dead body of a drow, pined to the wall his body pierced by gray roots and vines, the face frozen in a terrified expression. Wyll knelt next to the body, inspecting it. The drow was holding a piece of paper that he gently took and read it aloud for the rest.

"I have been given the crucial task of clearing the entrance to Grymforge for future expeditions. True Soul Nere will follow once the entrance is cleared. As I make my way to the entrance, I can't help but feel excitement. What might we find here, that Ketheric created so long ago, now sealed by the curse? Grymforge could hold untold treasures for the Absolute’s uses. I will continue to explore and document my findings. The entrance is currently blocked by vines and rubble - quite cursed. Explosives ought to do the job, though I'm not as experienced in such matters as I'd wish to be. I set up the explosives with care, though I admit I'm almost afraid to detonate them. There's no telling what power these cursed vines hold, what might lie beyond, or whether I've even set things up correctly. Absolute protect me!"

"This place is the Grymforge?" Gale asked Glut.

Glut nodded.

"My gods," Gale whispered.

"What's so special about the Grymforge?" Karlach asked.

"It's a legendary forge that could process mithral into adamantine. We need to go back and find it," Gale said, turning his head back towards the way they came.

"It's useless," Glut said.

"Pardon me?" Gale said, not sure what Glut meant.

"The place where the adamantine is forged is damaged. Only Zeus can activate it. That's how he made my mace," Glut further explained.

"Can you swing it a few times?" Karlach asked, her curiosity piqued.

Glut's chest cracked open, revealing a row of dagger-like teeth.

"What in the Hells?!" Ellyka said, taking cover behind Gale.

"I got the message," Karlach said, stepping back with her hands raised.

Glut's chest closed back fallowed by a pleased grunt.

"This guy Zeus, everyone talks about him. Who is he?" Ellyka asked, slowly emerging from behind Wyll, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Everyone looked at each other, unsure of how to describe him, but each tried to capture his essence as they saw him.

"He is an amazing fighter," Karlach said.

"A force of nature," Astarion added.

"An ally," Shadowheart said, her tone thoughtful.

"An abomination," Lae'zel spat, her eyes narrowing in contempt.

"A savior," Wyll added, his voice filled with conviction.

"Someone who can defy the rules of this world," Gale concluded, his voice carrying a note of awe.

Ellyka was lost for words, her mind racing to make sense of the varied descriptions.

"Don't worry. You'll see what we mean once you meet him," Wyll said, noticing her expression of bewilderment.

"Yeah, sure," Ellyka replied, her voice not sounding very confident.

"Ready?" Wyll asked, looking at the wooden doors before them and turning to his party. On the other side lay the cursed lands, a place of twisted darkness and unknown horrors.

Their eyes met his, each gaze filled with determination and resolve , at least most of them where. Since they escaped the creche Alex seemed to quiet . His gaza that seemed to observe anything around was replaced , now vacant , like no one was home.

"Alex are you alright ? " Wyll asked .

Alex just nodded .

"If he say so .He must have a reason he is like this" Wyll tough. It was all the answer he needed. With a light push, the doors creaked open, revealing the twisted landscape beyond. Gray roots snaked through the dark soil, and a palpable sense of dread hung in the air. The land seemed to groan under the weight of its curse.

"Let's move," Wyll said, stepping forward, his heart pounding in his chest.

The party followed, each step taking them deeper into the cursed lands. The air was thick with the stench of decay, and an eerie silence enveloped them, broken only by the occasional rustle of the twisted vegetation.

They moved cautiously, eyes scanning their surroundings for any sign of danger. The landscape was a nightmare, with gnarled trees and creeping vines that seemed almost alive, reaching out as if to ensnare them.

"Can you hear it?" Astarion asked as he unsheathed his dagger.

Everyone followed suit, weapons drawn as heavy thumps echoed through the mist, growing louder and more ominous.

From the swirling fog emerged a death shepherd, its sword raised high. It rushed towards the side of the group's formation, targeting Gale and Ellyka who were still struggling to walk, aided by Astarion and Shadowheart.

"Detono!" Wyll shouted, casting his spell. A deafening explosion sent the death shepherd flying to the side. Karlach quickly closed the distance, crushing its skull before it could stand up again. Its body fell limp.

"Shit. He was not alone!" Wyll shouted, his heart pounding in his chest.

Three more death shepherds emerged from the shadows. A veil of necrotic energy covered them, slowly drifting towards their fallen comrade, mending the broken skull as its body rose once more.

They were in massive trouble. Gale was in no state to cast any spells, and Wyll had just used his last spell slot. His eyes darted frantically around the mist, searching for more undead. Death shepherds never marched alone.

"Shadowheart, can you cast something, anything to send them away?" Wyll asked, desperation in his voice.

Shadowheart shook her head, her expression stern. "I can't."

"Those meat bags will die if I don't intervene, and then Alex will kill me," Glut thought as cracks appeared all over his armored body.

The group watched in awe as Glut's torso, arms, and legs extended, becoming taller than even Karlach. After casting Enlarge on himself, he towered over them like a behemoth.

His whip-like arm grabbed the mace attached to his back and swung it at the closest shepherd. The arc of the attack extended, snapping the shepherd in two. Another swing followed, sending the remains flying into the cursed mist.

Glut raised his long arm and pointed to a massive dome glowing in the distance with silvery light. "We need to get there quickly," he said in a deep voice.

He swung his arm again, flinging away another death shepherd. From the mist, a ghoul pounced, its claws scraping at Glut's armor-covered left hand. Glut grabbed the undead and threw it skyward.

He grunted as his arm went limp, ichor slowly dripping from it, only for the wound to close and regain its strength. He had a small amount of biomass stored for regeneration, but if more ghouls appeared, it would start to become a problem. He couldn't consume the undead, as Alex had warned him they could corrupt him.

With no other options, the group ran, the remaining death shepherds following close behind.