In My Blood

Chapter 12: A Handful of Gnomes

The next day, a new and ominous quest is bestowed upon the party. The sovereign commands them to bring back the severed head of a drow named Nere. Despite the grisly nature of the task, Delphie readily accepts the challenge, her newfound sense of compassion extending to every single poor soul she encounters.

As the party embarks on their journey across the dark lake towards the Grymforge ruins, the atmosphere is tense with an unspoken understanding of the gravity of their mission. The initial leg of the expedition unfolds relatively uneventfully, marked only by Delphie's mischievous act of pushing a suspecting duergar into the water, triggering a sudden skirmish between the two skiffs, threatening to disrupt the tranquility of the journey.

In the midst of chaos, Delphie and Gale combine their magical prowess to navigate the perilous situation. With a blend of skillful coordination and potent spells, they manage to flip over the hostile duergars' skiff, turning the tables in their favor. Astarion observes this mischievous side of the wood elf with a sense of pride.

Upon reaching their destination, the party is greeted by the eerie and unsettling atmosphere of the abandoned Sharran outpost. The Grymforge ruins stand before them, a testament to the remnants of a dark and mysterious past. A haunting quietness envelops the air, an otherworldly stillness so dense that even the sporadic echoes of the duergar barking orders at their deep gnome slaves cut through it like muted thunder.

As the party docks the skiff, the air is charged with a palpable tension that extends beyond the eerie stillness of the Grymforge ruins. A few members of the Absolute emerge to greet the newcomers. Thankfully, the party deftly maneuvers through the delicate dance of diplomacy, skillfully sidestepping an immediate confrontation.

Astarion's mischievous demeanor hangs in the air as they advance, delivered with a smirk that implies a nonchalant approach to a grave decision. "So are we saving this Nere from suffocating or leaving him to die?" he asks, a playful glint in his eye. "I'm fine with either, naturally. The last thing I want to do is ruin these nails digging through rock." He nonchalantly displays his nails, as if confirming their pristine condition.

In response, Delphie assumes a stance of determination, crossing her arms over her chest. "We promised the sovereign we'd bring his head back and Thulla we'd save the gnomes," she declares with unwavering resolve.

"Who's Thulla?" he provocatively inquires, eliciting a glare from the wood elf in front of him. "Oh, the gnome," he adds casually with a dismissive wave as if proposing to cast them aside. "Let's not trouble ourselves over them, darling. They aren't worth the effort," he suggests, his indifference to Thulla and the gnomes underscored by the term of endearment.

A disdainful scoff escapes Delphie's lips as she rebuts Astarion's indifferent stance. "Aren't worth it?" she retorts incredulously. "They're slaves, Astarion. Held here against their own will. You, of all people, should know how that feels."

In a sudden and intense gesture, Astarion seizes Delphie's arms, locking eyes with her in a moment of raw confrontation.

"You're right," he concedes, his voice dropping to a low, toxic tone. "I do know how it feels. You want to know what else?" Astarion's eyes bore into Delphie's, carrying the weight of centuries. "I've been a slave for two. Hundred. Years. Where the fuck were people like you when I was suffering?!" His words resonate with the bitterness of an old wound as he lets go of her arm. "When I was tortured to the brink of death and brought back to life, only to relive it over and over and over again. How are these gnomes more important than me, Delphie?!" The intensity of his gaze and the pain in his voice reveal the deep-seated resentment and anguish that linger within Astarion's tortured past.