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Naadja spent her life in the deep darkness of Menzoberranzan. It was a shroud of obscurity that covered all who lived in the Underdark. She knew the depths of darkness, the descensing pits that swallowed light whole. Moonrise Towers was entirely different.
The death-dark curse seemed to feed itself on snuffing out whatever light dared trickle into its domain. Shadowheart, the party's cleric, once remarked that darkness was the absence of light. Not here. Darkness was totality.
The party trudged forth through the cursed land. Selune's blessing warded off the shadows. The threads of the cult all tied together at one point, Moonrise towers. The architecture itself was a testament to the lands surrounding them. What was once a fortress of Selunes' grace was now corrupted.
The name Thorm was ever present, Ketheric's mutilated lineage littered the lands as Naadja made her way to the towers. How the curse came to be and remained was still a mystery, but she would go to the heart of the cult to uncover the truth. In all honesty, it all felt like a great inconvenience to her, the cult and the imprisoned refugees she swore to rescue. She felt no closer to accomplishing her goal of ridding herself of the parasite.
The guards at the gate were easy enough to bypass. She merely spoke the words “True Soul” and they bent to her whim. The scene beyond the doors however, halted Naadja where she stood. Minthara Baenre, the ghost from Naadja's past now a True Soul for a false god, was being held awaiting a sentence before Ketheric Thorm himself.
-
Loud drums carried through the air as inebriated goblins stumbled across the encampment. Naadja found them to be entirely vulgar creatures. Then again, after being in the presence of a mindflayer, Naadja felt the company was a significant improvement.
She was still in a considerable amount of shock from the experience. So much had occurred in an instant, she had no time to process what had happened. Not that she'd particularly want to.
Before she had been abducted by mindflayers, Naadja was on her way to find drow enclaves on the surface of Faerûn. Since then she had been infected with a mindflayer tadpole, she'd been to the hells, and had experienced numerous other events she couldn't begin to catalogue.
So it came to no surprise to her now that she was walking into a goblin encampment, completely of her own free will. She certainly didn't enjoy it, but if there was a healer for her condition, she prayed it would be in the once abandoned temple.
“Oi! You ‘ere for the drow?” a particularly petulant goblin asked Naadja as she stepped into the temple.
Considering her options, Naadja realized that she was expected to see the drow who seemed to lead the vile creatures.
“I have an audience with the drow.” Naadja spoke carefully. She was unsure if the wrong answer would create some hostility.
“Audience is right. She's a real uppity one. You could be her kin by the looks of you.” The goblin's words were meaningless to Naadja. She assumed correctly that any and all drow looked identical to such feeble minded surfacers.
Though, Naadja took consideration to the words the goblin had spoken. If, by chance, this drow was from her own noble house, Naadja expected immediate hostility.
She was an exile and any interaction with worshippers of Lolth was to be avoided.
Whatever she imagined she would be meeting could not prepare her for the reality she faced.
“Duskryn? The Absolute has made you a True Soul? It is not my place to doubt Her though I hope you serve her more ardently than your last goddess.” The same gravelly voice Naadja knew all too well echoed across the stone walls of the temple.
Her words had tinged themselves on Naadja's heightened nerves. Your Goddess. Not hers, not Lolth. She had abandoned the very same diety as Naadja and taken no ownership of the apostasy. Something was very wrong.
“Minthara? How-” She began to ask before Shadowheart wormed herself into Naadja's thoughts through the shared connection of the tadpole. She must have understood the situation and decided to intervene. Don't. Was all she said, enough to silence Naadja's immediate response.
Minthara explained in detail how they were on a mission on behalf of the Absolute. To rid the land of heretics and to search for a weapon- no doubt the very artifact that Shadowheart carried.
Naadja listened as best she could under the circumstances. Before her abduction, Naadja was under the belief that if she was discovered by Minthara Baenre, she would be executed on sight. She knew Minthara to be loyal to her goddess. She would not have abandoned Lolth so easily.
“You will aid us in our mission then, True Soul?” Minthara asked, though the question was a command.
Naadja agreed, maintaining her cover. But when the time would come to deliver death unto her, Naadja's hand would be stilled.
-
After Minthara's trial, Naadja was ordered to meet with the True Soul, Z'rell. She would do so, but not before she attended to what awaited her in the dungeon.
She followed the trail of blood that led to the depths below Moonrise Towers. Many bodies seemed to have been dragged down there, most likely beaten and tortured before even reaching the cells. They were led by screams of agony, bouncing off the cavernous walls of the prison. A room lined with various torture instruments held Minthara as two cultists were toying with her mind. It looked excruciating. Minthara was on her knees, begging her absent Gods to hear her pleas.
“What are you doing?” Naadja interrupted the questioners.
“We're erasing her” they spoke with an odd diction. It was as if they were trying to hypnotize her as well.
“Z'rell sent me to take over. You may be excused” She lied, hoping to stop whatever process had begun.
“We would like to watch.” The sick pleasure in their voices made Naadja's stomach lurch. They would not be satisfied with excuses. She nodded to them and pushed into the folds of Minthara's mind.
At first, she was pierced by terror; a cold spire that fractured her core. It gave way to self-doubt, an acidic bile that rose in her throat. Finally, at the core of her mind, rage. Seething and simmering. It scorched every fibre of Naadja's being. And standing in the heat of her own fury, was Minthara.
“Naadja,” she spoke with a disdain that betrayed her absolutist resolve. This was not the thrall. This was Minthara Baenre, Lolth's vengeance.
“Though it revolts me to even be in your presence, I accept my death at your hand. It is one fitting of me, not as a slave to be executed, but as your fallen foe.” The heat of her mind-flesh increased, enraged.
“I will not kill you” Naadja spoke firmly. Minthara would not accept less.
“Why?” She was in disbelief. Before her infection, Minthara swore to Lolth that Naadja's head would be paid as tribute for her disobedience. She led numerous expiditions to hunt her down. Had Naadja not been so evasive, she would be dead by Minthara's own hand. So why was she extending a kindness that would never be returned?
Naadja sighed. “We don't have much time, they're waiting for us. Please trust me when I say I will not harm you.” She felt Minthara's psyche stiffen in hesitation, but the flames subdued.
“You have one chance. I will follow you this once. Do not lead me astray or it will be your last shameful act.” The fear in her voice was subtle, but perceptible. Naadja was her last chance to survive and she was unaccustomed to dependence.
With that, Naadja released the hold on her mind, her consciousness soaring back into her own body. She fought disorientation and turned to the questioners.
“She's still alive?” They looked in expectation.
“Yes, she's a husk of her former self. This one will obey.” Naadja gestured to Minthara, who stared blankly at nothing at all.
“Very well. This satisfies.” they moved along, leaving Minthara and the party alone.
Minthara turned her gaze to Naadja, narrowing her eyes at the deserter. “And what is your plan of escape, Duskryn?” She spat the name from her mouth.
Naadja looked out the door, the tieflings were still imprisoned and the deep gnomes Barcus spoke of were held captive in cells. “I have an idea.”
Naadja assisted the prisoners in arming themselves to escape the cells. She distracted the warden as they broke through the walls and made their escape. When the coast was clear, Naadja escorted Minthara to the hidden dock behind the cells, urging her to get onto the boat.
“Go and find the Last Light Inn. From there you'll be safe from the curse and I will meet you at our camp,” she helped her onto the boat and Minthara held her wrist, not sure if she should trust her former target. “I'll meet you soon, I promise.” Naadja pushed the boat and watched the tieflings paddle the oars across its glassy surface.
-
The curse, though warded off, still had a damaging effect on the adventurers. Naadja in particular found she had become extremely fatigued resulting in sluggishness as she trekked through the torn land.
When she arrived at Last Light Inn, she wasn't prepared to answer to Minthara. Though Minthara had ample time to ponder the events that had transpired.
She approached Naadja as soon as she entered the inn, separating her from the group.
“I do not know why you spared my life in the goblin hoard, nor do I know why you rescued me from my captives. But my oath to Lolth has been altered.” She looked as though it pained her to say the words. Minthara had lost any connection she had to the divine, all that was left to her was rage. “Once, I could not envision a world where you and I walked as allies. But I have felt the hollow abyss that my Goddess once filled, now left with only my oath to avenge myself. I would be honoured to fight by your side.” Her features were deepened with the shame and fear she felt. She needed purpose. She prayed aimlessly that Naadja could be that purpose.
Naadja was taken aback. She expected begrudged acceptance, perhaps even resistance to Naadja's help. But this? “Minthara, you have your freedom now. You need not fight for me.” Naadja insisted.
Minthara laughed, though it sounded almost like a hiss. “What good is this freedom if I cannot make the choice to defend it. To defend you.” Minthara considered Naadja's words for a moment as well as her own position. She was a heretic, now. The very thing she'd sworn her life to destroy. “I have my freedom, yes. But I have lost my devotion. I have no refuge, so I must take it within you.” She said, resigned.
Naadja could hardly breathe. Minthara was the epitome of nobility- a powerful and fearsome drow. She slaughtered countless in the name of Lolth. Here she was offering her sword and shield in the fight against the cult, in Naadja's name.
Before Naadja could answer to Minthara's admission, she spoke once again, more hesitant than before.
“I must ask you again, Duskryn, before I swear myself in service of your mission. Why did you spare me?”
Naadja stood for a moment, the merry sounds of the inn fading from her senses. All seemed silent under Minthara's gaze. “I don't know.” She answered truthfully.
“To do something so careless is not in your nature. You have been discreet, conniving, but you were never reckless. Why did you save me?” Minthara's hands stayed firm at her sides though she longed to reach out and hold the girl. She wished to shake the truth from her, or at the very least touch her as she did all those years ago. Minthara hoped to find something real from her past that she could grasp onto. But she feared that doing so would drive the last thing tying her to her home to pull away.
Naadja searched her thoughts. The day she spared her life in the ruined temple had been weighing on her as well. She did not consider why she spared Minthara, perhaps she couldn't dwell on it. But when she saw her on trial, she knew the relief in her chest was because Minthara lived.
“Because I know you, or rather I did. Your life was taken from you just as mine was. I lost everything and no one ever extended a hand. So I extend mine, because I understand.” It all became so clear to her then that Minthara must live, and she must draw the dying breaths from those who aimed to draw hers. They were one in the same, and Minthara saw this as well.
“I accept your service. And I swear to you that I will not misguide you.” She said, more sure of herself than she had been in a long time. Minthara nodded, satisfied with the exchange.
“By my oath.” She pledged for the last time.