#thank you flat chested lae'zel for my life

[mirrorhouse]

We depart come dawn, and no later. And you will take your rest alone.

[snotsloth]

I have officially finished 1/4 of my NaNoWriMo project!!! Wrote 2553 words today, which brings me to a grand total of 13,599, 27.2% of my total goal! It feels so good!

Today, Brychan, et. al. found Lae'zel stuck in a tree. They got her down without any tiefling casualties. And now they finally have a lead on getting rid of the tadpoles. (Spoiler alert, it won't work.)

I also had a burst of inspiration and wrote a scene for some point in Act 3 where Ilmater makes Wyll an offer he can't refuse:

“Wyll?” and unfamiliar masculine voice, coaxed Wyll back to consciousness. He could already tell he was not where he had fallen. He lay on his back on the ground and the air around him was lukewarm and still. He could hear no wind and no other voices besides the one that had just called to him.

“Wyll?” the voice called again, gently.

Wyll opened his eyes, both eyes. Well, that was unnerving. A man stood next to his right shoulder, looking down at him with a kind, if slightly pained expression. He was short and burly, clad only in a plain loincloth, leaving the rest of his scarred, sandy skin exposed to the elements. Dark hair grew thick across his chest and arms but was thin and receding on his head. His face was homely, with bushy brows and a nose that looked as if it had been broken multiple times, but his eyes were warm and kindly.

Surging to his feet, Wyll immediately began spouting questions, “Where am I? Where are my companions? What’s happened?” He looked down at himself, and patted across his chest and sides, looking for injuries that should be there. “Shit. How did I get here? What is going on?”

At this point he looked up at his surroundings. He stood on gray, rocky terrain that was uncannily flat. There were no discernible features larger than a stray bolder or ridge of stone curving slowly out of the ground. The sky above him was also gray and uniform with neither sun, nor moon hanging above, just a vague haze.

“This is the Gray Wastes,” Wyll said as realization dawned. “I’m dead. I died. Fuck this can’t be happening.” He pressed his fist to his mouth as if he could shove the panic back down into his chest. “I can’t be here. They need me. I can’t leave them like this. Gods, Brychan… Karlach… I’m so sorry. I-”

A choked sob forced its way from his mouth and the damn broke. Falling back down to his knees, Wyll began to cry big heaving sobs of grief, not for himself but for the people he’d abandoned. Brychan, Kalrach, his father, all their friends and allies; they would have to face The Absolute without him. Karlach would have to take down Gortash without him at her side. Brychan would - Brychan would have no one to stand between him and the Emperor’s machinations. He’d failed them.

Between one sob and the next, he heard a pained sigh and a sniff. Then a warm, calloused hand with crooked fingers clasped his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Wyll. If I had the power to protect you from this pain, I would have in an instant.”

Wyll looked up. The man was bent over him again, and he was also crying. What stranger would grieve for -

“Ilmater,” Wyll whispered, his voice hoarse from crying.

“Got it in one,” Ilmater said with a wry, lopsided smile. He offered his other hand to help Wyll to his feet. Wyll took it. “I am sorry I could not prevent all the suffering you endured in your too short life, Wyll. Despite everything, you were a good man, one of the best. You did more to ease the suffering of the poor and downtrodden in less than a decade than most people manage in their entire lifetime. Thank you.”

“I didn’t do it for you,” Wyll snapped.

“I know,” Ilmater said, eyes sparkling with merriment. “But the people you did it for aren’t here at the moment, so I thought I would thank you for them.”

“I don’t need thanks, I need - ” Wyll cut himself off. What he needed was impossible now.

“You need to go home,” Ilmater said. Wyll’s eyes snapped up to look him in the face. Ilmater’s expression was as placid, if slightly strained as ever. “You need to see all this through. You would never be able to go to your eternal rest, leaving things as they are now.”

“Got it in one,” Wyll said.

Ilmater snorted, amused. Then he said, “I came to find you here to offer you two things, but I have a feeling which you will choose.”

“Why did you come to find me at all? I don’t think I ever gave you a prayer or an offering in my entire life,” Wyll asked, perplexed.

“You didn’t,” Ilmater answered, unflappable. “But, knowingly or not, you lived your life according to my tenants, better than some of my most ardent worshipers, I might add. So, I wanted to offer you a comfortable place to take your eternal rest, but I don’t believe you could willing accept such a gift right now. So, I have a second offer. I will return your soul to your body and completely heal you of all your wounds. I only ask that you continue to serve as a shield between innocents and the suffering that plagues all mortal life.”

Wyll stared at The Broken God with his skewed, hunched shoulders and his gentle brown eyes. “You want me to serve as one of your paladins,” he said as it clicked in his mind.

“I do,” Ilmater confirmed.

Wyll closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose.

Part of him wanted to scream, to rage at Ilmater and all the other gods and the little lanceboard games they played with mortal lives. Oh, NOW you want me? Not when Baldur's Gate almost fell to Tiamat? Not when I suffered for YEARS under Mizura, doing the best I could to do the right thing? Not when I disobeyed her and was cursed to look like this all to save someone else? Only when the entire Sword Coast and the gods themselves are under threat do one of you come calling?

But he suspected Ilmater already knew all the thoughts going through his head. Saying them aloud wouldn’t change anything, so he simply spoke the truth, “I wouldn’t be doing it for you. I’d be doing it for them.”

“I know,” Ilmater replied. “That’s what I want you to do. I am offering you this power, not because I want your worship or devotion. I am offering it to you because I know you will do the right things with it. You will be faithful to them, and that’s all I ask from you. Your life, I return to you as a reward, free of any stipulation. The power, I offer you with confidence that you will always strive to use if for the greater good. If at any point in your life, you wish to turn from this path or relinquish this burden, you may do so, free of repercussion. But as long as you continue to live to serve, to protect the weak, to free the oppressed, to dry the tears of the grieved, you will go with my blessing.”

Wyll turned away from Ilmater, pacing across the eerily flat ground of the Gray Wastes, and then turning back. He scratched at his jaw, still hesitant. The whole situation made him feel skittish. Memories of Mizura standing next to him on a hill, overlooking all of Baldur’s Gate kept flashing through his mind. Fear crept up the back of his spine and his hands trembled. He had just freed himself from one otherworldly pact, could he so easily dive right into another?

Yes.

He thought of Brychan, who had managed to outmaneuver Mizura just to save his sorry soul. He thought of Karlach, who deserved more than anyone to survive this awful mess. He thought of all their friends who had put aside a search for a cure for their illithid infestations in the hope that together, they might be able to save everyone. He had the chance to return to their side, to see this through to the end, and maybe even live beyond it. This wasn’t a decision, this was an opportunity to do what his soul yearned for.

“I’ll do it,” he said, straightening his spine and squaring his shoulders. “I’ll take your oath, Ilmater. My companions and I will slay the Absolute. We’ll save Faerun. And I will continue to serve as the Blade of Avernus until age bend me or death take me.”

A bright, joyful smile spread across Ilmater’s face, crinkling the skin around his dark eyes. He reached out with both crooked hands, clasped Wyll by the shoulders, “Go with my blessing, Wyll Ravengard, paladin of Ilmater and Blade of Avernus. May all who unjustly cause pain and suffering tremble in fear at your name.”