Turns out there really are such unlucky fools out there.
Seeing a hand suddenly reach out from the runes, the three watchers couldn't help smiling.
It was a very smooth hand, with neatly rounded nails and no scars, save for a slight callus on the side of the middle finger from years of holding a pen.
The hand waved up and down, accompanied by the man's cries for help from inside the runes: "Hello? Is anyone there? Can someone lend a hand?"
Was he the only one who had the fantasy of imagining what it would be like to just chop that hand off? Ethemon stepped forward and high-fived it instead.
Honestly, a hand reaching out from a crack in the stone—the owner on the other side had no idea who you were, nor what you might do to him. You could just raise your hand and bring it down, and the hand's owner would have nothing more to do with you, perhaps even remaining trapped inside the runes forever. If Shadowheart and Astarion weren't tagging along, who would ever know he did it?
Evil thoughts bubbled up from the bottom of his heart, while the man stuck in the runes blissfully continued calling for help.
Because Ethemon had simply high-fived him right off the bat, Ethemon could read the man's speechlessness in that momentary pause. The man extended his index finger: "Allow me to say one more word: lend a hand and pull me out, thank you."
Having had his fun teasing, Ethemon grabbed that hand, braced his feet against the rock wall, and began to pull. It felt like trying to extract something from a swamp; let up even a little, and whatever it was would get sucked right back in. Ethemon took a deep breath, gathered his strength, and gave a fierce yank. A man in purple wizard robes came flying straight out.
Well, well, a human scholar.
That was Ethemon's first thought.
This man in purple wizard robes had slightly curly, semi-long brown hair with a few strands of silver mixed in. His beard was neatly trimmed, and while time had left its marks on his face, it also lent him a unique charm. He wore a single earring bearing what looked like the symbol of a certain goddess.
"Oh, hello, I am Gale from Waterdeep. Apologies, I don't usually make blunders quite this clumsy." Looking somewhat embarrassed, he reached out to brush off his hem, casting a gust of wind to blow away the dust.
Hmm, a human wizard.
Waterdeep—sounded vaguely familiar, and seemed pretty far from Baldur's Gate. Just how many people from different places had this mind flayer snatched?
Ethemon curled his lip. Why should he care if Waterdeep was far away? What good did it do him to remember where Waterdeep was! He was wasting time thinking of useless things; instead of this nonsense, he ought to be thinking about his own situation!
Yet at crucial moments, his brain went on strike, and he couldn't remember a thing.
Ethemon managed a smile. "No worries, no need to apologize. I'm Ethemon, and these two are Shadowheart and Astarion. Are you alright?"
"To be honest, it gave quite a scare," Gale said warmly, a sunny smile on his face. "I tried connecting to the magical runes here the moment I fell from the nautiloid, never expecting to get stuck inside them. Fortunately, you rescued me, friend."
Gale looked over the backpack-wearing group. "I assume the lot of you must also have been implanted with those thoroughly unwelcome mind flayer tadpoles, am I right?" Seeing everyone nod, Gale continued, "Then you know this thing will eventually turn all of us into mind flayers after a grueling incubation period?"
"Yes, yes," Astarion frowned with a hint of exasperation. "Ever since I woke up, I've heard countless terrifying threats about how I'm going to turn into that ugly thing. So, do you have any ideas?"
Interrupting him, Gale smiled good-naturedly. "Pity, ordinary clerics and physicians can't solve this problem. I merely hope to spare you from wasting time on conventional healers. Besides," Gale turned to Ethemon, "though it's a bit sudden, if it's all right with you, shall we help each other out once more and search for a healer who can cure us together?"
As expected, Ethemon naturally wouldn't refuse an extra bit of combat strength joining the party.
Not to mention that Gale could cook!
After walking all morning, the four-person party found an open patch of ground to rest as the sun grew increasingly dazzling. Fameless and hungry, the group could only scrounge up whatever food they had on hand to make do, though aside from a small amount of bread and fruit, most of what they found was raw meat and mushrooms.
Ethemon searched his chaotic brain and realized he only seemed to know how to make roast meat. If everyone didn't mind eating something that greasy in such sweltering heat, he could butcher and roast the wild boar Astarion had used as bait earlier—it looked like it had plenty of meat.
But the proposal was rejected by the others. It was hot enough already; they didn't need any smoke, fire, and suffocating heat added to it.
Ethemon looked over at Astarion. Despite the scorching sun, the elf sitting in the sunlight hadn't broken a single drop of sweat, looking as delicate as a porcelain doll.
Catching Ethemon's gaze, Astarion spread his hands. "Don't look at me, I certainly don't cook."
He turned to Shadowheart.
Shadowheart: "I usually just have bread and jam." As a cleric living in a cloister, you couldn't expect her cooking skills to be very high.
Ethemon looked without hope at Gale. The human wizard carried himself with elegance and wore proper attire—he looked like the type who was used to being waited on. Could he actually cook?
Gale looked over the ingredients and small amount of seasoning Ethemon and the others had found, and flashed a confident smile. "How does fresh mushroom and meat soup sound?"
Ethemon shot him a skeptical look, only to enthusiastically polish off another large bowl of soup afterward, despite Gale's remarks that there was plenty more.
Who knew that this young-master type Gale could actually cook, and make it taste so good!
"Being alone in the Wizard's Tower is always terribly boring, so I grew quite fond of making meals in my spare time. Ingredients are far too scarce right now, otherwise I could have prepared something more elaborate. I'm glad you like it." Gale went to refill Shadowheart's bowl, only to notice that Astarion in the corner had barely drunk any—it was practically as if he hadn't touched it at all.
"Astarion, is the soup not to your liking?" Gale asked with concern.
"What?" Astarion snapped out of a daze, then smiled. "No, of course not, the soup tastes wonderful. It's just that I'm not very hungry yet, and you know, to maintain my figure, I usually don't eat too much."
Gale didn't quite understand, but given Astarion's aristocratic mannerisms all along the way—complaining of fatigue from carrying the slightest thing, sitting whenever he had the chance rather than standing—it didn't seem entirely unreasonable for an aristocrat to diet in order to stay thin.
Accepting this explanation, Gale gathered up everyone's empty soup bowls and placed them before Shadowheart and Ethemon.
The person who cooked didn't wash dishes, and since Astarion hadn't really eaten, dishwashing duty skipped him as well.
Ethemon and Shadowheart exchanged glances and obediently carried the pots and bowls off to find a water source.
Meanwhile, Gale and Astarion each picked a tree to lean against and rest.
Astarion idly and somewhat conflictedly played with his knuckles. The excitement of seeing the light of day was gradually fading, and his craving for food coupled with the persistent hunger in his abdomen made him desperately want to bite into something. Shifting his gaze to Gale, who was resting with his eyes closed under a tree, Astarion took a deep breath and turned to walk away.
Gale, who had been resting, watched Astarion leave without taking anything with him, but closed his eyes again without much care. They had only just met; it was better not to meddle in other people's business. To his surprise, however, shortly thereafter, Astarion crept back on tiptoe as if trying not to be heard.
Gale: ?
Astarion motioned for him to be quiet, then pointed in the direction behind him. "That Githyanki who was with Ethemon on the nautiloid earlier—she's been caught by two Tieflings. Should we go tell Ethemon?"
Based on Astarion's observations over the past half-day, most of the people in this party were traditional do-gooders, with Ethemon faintly acting as the leader, even though the fellow looked like a half-elf who hadn't reached adulthood yet.
Astarion had always known how to bend with the wind. He knew that with his current abilities, there was no way he could solve the mind flayer tadpole problem on his own, and his combat power and utility were the lowest in the group. To secure his place in this party, he didn't mind playing the cute and clever card—after all, it was his old trade—and besides, he felt that their leader was quite receptive to that sort of act.
Smiling with a trace of mockery inwardly, he maintained an expression of concern on the outside. "Those Tieflings seem to be discussing what to do with that Githyanki. If we don't go quickly, it might be too late."
"We have to kill her! Back then, just one of them wiped out Zevlor's entire squad!" A sudden raised voice made the two pause and exchange a look, and Gale immediately spoke up: "You go call them!"
With that, he bolted in the direction of the voices.
Not having to face a potential fight naturally made things easy for Astarion, and he moved at a brisk pace toward where Ethemon and Shadowheart were washing dishes.
"Never mind her, can't we just leave her hanging here?"
"And let the goblins have her for nothing? We need to bring this one to The Grove."
When Gale arrived, the two Tieflings were still arguing over the Githyanki's fate.
Judging by how they had captured their prey yet were still agonizing over how to deal with her, they were a pair of inexperienced Tieflings, neither of them particularly robust in build—the danger was low.
Gale intentionally made a slight noise to draw their attention. The male Tiefling stepped forward warily, yet still managed a faint smile. "Hello there, stranger. Can I help you?"
"Apologies for interrupting you," Gale's gentle smile eased the Tiefling's tension. "I happened to overhear your conversation just now. I wonder if you might leave this Githyanki to me? I've been tracking her trail for a while now and only just managed to catch up. I really need this bounty." Gale spoke in a sincere tone while covertly casting Friends.
A flash of light crossed the male Tiefling's eyes, and his movements slowed down slightly.
"Ha, a Githyanki warrior never fears a challenge," Lae'zel snapped angrily from her cage suspended in mid-air, her complexion dreadful. On the ground lay the weapon she had accidentally dropped.
"Zevlor was right, not a single one of you Githyanki is any good," the male Tiefling under the spell retorted, refusing to be outdone. "Since you want her, she's yours. Let's go, Nameria, we still have to investigate the explosion."
"Explosion?"
"Didn't you hear it? Right near our camp, it shook the whole place violently."
"Oh, is your camp nearby? Do you happen to have a physician? I might need a bit of treatment."
"To the northwest, go find Nettie. No matter what injuries you have, she'll certainly be able to fix them." The male Tiefling seemed to hold their physician in high regard.
Their conversation concluded, the spell-afflicted Tiefling left with his companion, while Gale looked up. The Githyanki in the cage didn't afford him a single pleasant look.
"Hah, pathetic human. In the Queen's name, I will make you pay for this," Lae'zel glared fiercely at Gale, her murderous intent unmasked, causing even good-natured Gale to frown.
"Don't be like that, Lae'zel. Gale just saved your life." Ethemon parted the dense bushes, followed by Shadowheart and Astarion. His hands still had water on them, as if he had dropped his chores to rush over.
Seeing Ethemon appear, the trapped Lae'zel immediately realized that the group before her were companions, and said somewhat irritably, "Stop staring, get me down!"
"Hmm?" Ethemon, who had already drawn his bow to rescue her, raised an eyebrow, slowed his movements, and said teasingly, "Perhaps you should say 'please'?"
"Don't even dream of it." Lae'zel frowned in disgust.
"Ha, what an eye-opening way to ask for help." Though his words were sarcastic, Astarion was smiling happily; watching a spectacle always put him in a good mood. "Ethemon, how's your aim? Care to let me have a go?"
Ethemon rejected the eager Astarion; looking at that excited expression, he was genuinely afraid Astarion would shoot an arrow straight at Lae'zel.
Although Lae'zel refused to say please, Ethemon wasn't about to just leave her hanging there. With a rapid succession of arrows, he precisely severed the rope securing the base of the trap, and with a light step, Lae'zel finally broke free.