Prototype's Gate

Not far away, Alex spotted a small ladder leading to a stack of crates. He paused a few meters from the ladder. Without warning, he raised his foot and slammed it into the ground with force.

"There are mines buried up ahead," Alex said, his voice calm but edged with caution.

This was no idle guess. He had just tapped into a new ability gained from the landshark—an ability that allowed him to feel the vibrations around him, giving him a sixth sense that extended deep underground. It was as if the earth itself whispered its secrets to him, revealing the hidden dangers that lay beneath the surface.

Satisfied that he had detected all the mines, Alex leaped over the treacherous ground and landed on a stone platform. The crates that blocked his path were swiftly moved aside as he ventured further into the structure. Inside, he found more crates, barrels, and chests, all neatly stacked and some marked with a curious "Z." He opened several, but their contents—jewelry, potions, and equipment—held little value to him. His interest waned until he spotted a wooden elevator in the corner.

"This one seems to have been recently used," Alex muttered, leaning in to inspect it. The scent of recent human presence lingered, subtle but unmistakable.

He considered using the elevator but hesitated, his instincts telling him that he was not alone. The owners of this place were likely nearby, and Alex preferred to avoid unnecessary bloodshed. For now, he chose a different path.

Descending a slope, Alex found what he was looking for: a stone plateau covered in a deadly mushrooms. The sight was both mesmerizing and lethal. Timmask, with its large, plate-like caps in a spectrum of vibrant colors, loomed ominously, ready to unleash a cloud of spores that could cause intense confusion if disturbed. Bibberbang, grotesque green growths resembling large tumors, waited to release a toxic gas upon any intruder who dared to approach. Torchstalks, smaller but no less dangerous, stood like sentinels, ready to explode and ignite the entire area at the slightest provocation. The combination of these mushrooms was a deadly one—a potential inferno waiting to happen, with Timmask spores and Bibberbang poison being highly flammable.

This was no natural formation. The deadly setup was undoubtedly a creation of the creatures Alex sought. He scanned the area and quickly spotted a few myconids observing him from a higher vantage point. These humanoid fungi, with their large mushroom heads and faint, eerie glow, were known for their peaceful nature. But peace was fragile, and Alex knew they could become fiercely aggressive if they felt threatened.

Testing their peacefulness, Alex took a few steps back, then sprinted forward and leaped onto the stone platform where two myconids stood. His sudden appearance startled them, and they reacted instinctively, releasing a cloud of spores that quickly enveloped him.

Alex didn't resist. He let the spores work their way into his system, and soon, a chorus of turbulent music began to play inside his head—a strange, disorienting melody that seemed to twist and warp his thoughts.

"This myconid is acting as a conduit for the collective," Alex noted, recognizing the unfamiliar sensation. The cacophony of music gradually quieted, leaving a single, commanding note resonating in his mind.

"I am Sovereign," a mysterious voice declared, its tone imbued with authority.

A vision flashed before Alex's eyes: his body, lifeless and ensnared by fungal tendrils.

"This must be a threat," Alex thought, though he doubted their ability to kill him. He remained still, waiting for their next move.

"State your purpose," the Sovereign demanded, the voice stern and unyielding.

Alex decided to be honest. "I'm fascinated by your kind. If I'm not welcome, I'll leave," he replied, his tone respectful but unwavering.

The alien mind probed his thoughts, searching for deception but finding none. Satisfied, the Sovereign spoke again, this time with a note of invitation.

"Come to me, let us speak in flesh," the Sovereign commanded, his music now coaxing Alex forward. The two myconids turned and began to walk , leading the way deeper into the myconid colony. Alex followed closely, stepping over massive mushrooms and winding his way through the grotto .

The colony was a living organism unto itself, teeming with myconids of various colors and sizes. The air was thick with the smell of decay and earth, and the faint glow of bioluminescent fungi cast eerie shadows across the stone walls. Among the myconids walked a draugr, its body covered in mushrooms, its eyes glazed over in a glassy, vacant stare. the duergar was no longer a creature of its own will, but a vessel for the myconid's influence.

Ascending a set of mushroom stairs, Alex finally reached the Sovereign. The leader of the myconids was larger than the others, with a bright, multicolored sheen to his skin that made him stand out. Nearby, a female dark gnome lay on the ground, writhing in pain and drenched in sweat. Her suffering was palpable, and Alex felt a surge of curiosity and concern. He wanted to speak to her, but the Sovereign's gaze held him in place, locking eyes with him in a way that demanded full attention.

"Flesh-Talker, I show you a memory. Watch and listen," the Sovereign commanded, his voice resonating with the weight of the colony's collective consciousness.

A vision flooded Alex's mind—duergar invaders mercilessly chopping down myconids , their brutality laid bare. The Sovereign's voice returned, now heavy with sorrow and rage.

"They broke our peace, they killed our young," the Sovereign intoned, his grief evident.

"We laid waste to many, but intruders remain, lakeward," the Sovereign continued, his tone now filled with a sense of urgency.

The music of the Sovereign's voice held steady as his mind searched Alex's emotions, seeking understanding. Alex recognized this feeling—the raw, aching pain of loss. It was a feeling he had known too well, from the memories of Elisabeth Green, the woman who had lost everything in a cruel bioweapon experiment. The memory stung, but Alex pushed it aside, focusing on the task at hand.

"I sense you understand our pain. You will find duergar invaders near the lake's edge. Cleanse the Rot. Destroy them," the Sovereign urged, his plea almost desperate.

Alex considered the duergar—creatures known for their tyranny, brutality, and greed. They were not deserving of mercy. "I accept," Alex responded simply, his voice carrying the weight of his decision. The duergar were inhabitants of the Underdark, and if nothing else, he could extract valuable information from them.

Another vision played in his mind—a cove covered by thick vines, with a glowing light revealing hidden treasures.

"Riches of magic and minds. Cleanse the Rot, and they are yours. You do the circle a service, we will wait word," the Sovereign's music swirled into a shape that Alex recognized: gnomes in mining gear, their faces twisted in fear as they were chased by duergar.

"The duergar seek a gnome. She is a guest," the Sovereign said, his voice tinged with protectiveness. Alex turned his attention to the sick female gnome lying nearby, her face twisted in agony.

"But why defend her if it means your people dying?" Alex asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

The Sovereign remained silent for a moment, as if weighing his response carefully before speaking. "He seeks shelter; we offered one."

"That's very kind of you," Alex responded, still unsure if this was the whole truth, but respecting their choice nonetheless.

The Sovereign's song shifted slightly, showing a hint of appreciation for Alex's understanding. "I saw a duergar covered in mushrooms. Is it your doing?" Alex inquired, his curiosity piqued.

"We breathe life into our enemy's flesh. The dead make a fine host for my growing children," the Sovereign explained, his tone matter-of-fact.

"Interesting," Alex replied, feeling a spark of scientific curiosity igniting within him. The idea of using the dead as hosts for fungal growth fascinated him, but he sensed the Sovereign's impatience and decided to move on. He turned his attention to the female dark gnome, kneeling beside her, and looked into her eye.

Her skin was a deep, rich blue, typical of the deep gnome race, and she had striking white hair that contrasted sharply with her complexion. Her hair was tousled and slightly wild, giving her a rugged, adventurous look.

She had large, pointed ears. She was dressed in sturdy leather armor. The armor was brown and appeared to be well-worn. Beneath her armor, she wore a green undershirt .

He reached out a hand, trying to see why she was clutching her abdomen

"Don't," the gnome gasped, clutching her stomach as her body trembled with pain.

"Who did this to you?" he asked, his voice low, almost tender.

"Duergar... they slashed me," she managed to say, her words strained as she fought to hold back tears. Each breath seemed to cause her agony, and her hands instinctively pressed against the wound, as if trying to hold her very life from slipping away.

Alex gently reached out, his hand hovering just above her trembling fingers. "Let me see," he urged. "I'm a doctor. I can help you."

She recoiled at first, mistrust flickering in her eyes—a survival instinct born from a world where help was often a prelude to harm. But the sincerity in Alex's voice, the unwavering calm in his eyes, seemed to pierce through her defenses. Slowly, hesitantly, she moved her hand away, revealing the wound.

It wasn't deep, but the skin around it was an ashen gray, the kind of pallor that only meant one thing—poison. Alex's heart sank as he saw how far it had spread, creeping like frost across her skin, leaving death in its wake.

"She doesn't have much time," Alex thought, the realization tightening his chest. The poison was eating away at her from the inside, destroying her organs with a relentless, insidious speed.

Drawing on the memories he had absorbed from the minotaur, Alex quickly identified the poison as one derived from a common weed in the Underdark—a toxin as deadly as it was crude. But there was hope. He knew a universal antidote could counteract it.

"Can... you... help?" Her voice was barely a whisper now, eyes wide with desperation, pleading with him to save her.

"Yes," Alex replied, his voice firm with determination. "But I need to find the antidote. I’ll be back in a few minutes."

He wasted no time, sprinting back to the storage room he found earlier . He rummaged through the supplies, until he found what he was looking for—a small vial, the antidote she desperately needed. He gripped it tightly and raced back to the grotto.

"Here," he said, kneeling beside her again and carefully opening the bottle. He handed it to her, watching as her shaking hands struggled to hold it.

She stared at the vial, as if fearing it was too late, but then, with a trembling breath, she brought it to her lips and drank it all. Her eyes squeezed shut, and for a moment, it seemed as if time stood still. Alex waited beside her, every second stretching out.

But then, slowly, the color began to return to her skin. The ashen gray receded. Her breathing steadied, the trembling subsided, and she managed to sit up with Alex’s gentle assistance.

"Gods, whatever that was, I needed it," she breathed, her voice stronger, tinged with the relief of someone who had just been pulled back from the edge of death.

He could see the life returning to her eyes, the spark of resilience that hadn’t been extinguished after all.

"Why did you help me?" she asked, turning to look at him with a mixture of gratitude and suspicion.

"I just wanted to help," Alex replied, his voice earnest. A part of him knew there was more to it than just a desire to do good. Perhaps it was an attempt to redeem something within himself—to do something purely selfless, something that Him would have never considered.

The gnome narrowed her eyes, studying him as if searching for a hidden motive. "Down here? That's rare. But... I nearly can move on my feet now. I thank you for your help, but I need to get moving," she said, grimacing as she attempted to stand, her strength not yet fully returned.

"Don't," Alex advised, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder. "Your wound needs to be cleaned and covered, or it will get infected."

She shook her head stubbornly, frustration flickering across her face. "Garl'garters, I don't have time for this. My kin needs me."

"If you go like this, I doubt you can do much to help them," Alex said, his voice firm but understanding. "But I can."

She paused, looking at him with a mixture of hope and wariness. "Seems like you're the helping hand," she said, a faint smile touching her lips for the first time. "Alright, I need you to rescue my kin. Not charity, mind you. We can pay you. We are the Ironhand clan, best artificers in Baldur's Gate. We were on an expedition when the duergar snatched us. I got away, but not the others. The grays have them digging up some ruins near the lake."

"What were you searching for?" Alex asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Just mining materials," she replied quickly, but the brief hesitation, the slight tightening of her jaw, betrayed her.

Alex’s eyes narrowed, his mind working quickly to piece together the puzzle. "You're lying. Are you searching for an ancient forge?" he asked.

Her eyes widened in shock. "How did you know?" she whispered, taking a step back, her fear palpable.

"Don't be scared," Alex said, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. "I don’t care about it. I just met someone foolish enough to search for it and learned a bit in the process. But I’ll still help you."

She eyed him skeptically, as if trying to figure out whether to trust him, but in the end, she nodded, perhaps realizing she had little choice. "Thank you," she said, the words laden with both relief and resignation. "I only wish I could go with you." She reached down and removed her boots, holding them out to him. "Here, I nabbed them from one of the grays when I escaped. I’ll feel better knowing you’re using them to kick some duergar arse."

Alex glanced at the brown leather boots she offered. "What do those do?" he asked, curious about their significance.

"They make you run faster," she explained, a hint of pride in her voice.

Alex looked at her, then down at his own silvery boots. "You can keep them," he said, pushing the boots back toward her.

"Are you sure?" she asked, surprised by his refusal.

"Yeah," he replied with a small smile. "I’ve got these."

She shrugged, accepting his decision, and pulled out a small scroll from her pack. "I have a map. I’ll mark the location where I escaped. I’ll wait here, I suppose. Not much choice, eh?"

Alex took the scroll from her, his mind already mapping out his next steps. But before he turned to leave, something still nagged at him. "One more question before I go. Why did the myconids take you in?"

She sighed, the weight of her ordeal evident in her eyes. "They took pity on me. Sound lads, even though the greys gave them hell for it. Did you talk to the Sovereign?" she asked.

Alex nodded, his mind briefly flashing back to the strange, otherworldly connection he had felt with the myconid leader. "Yeah, I did," he replied, his voice softer now, touched by the lingering echoes of the Sovereign's music that still played faintly in the corners of his mind.

"Take care," Alex said, his voice gentle as he turned to leave.

"My name is Thulla," she called out after him, her voice carrying a mixture of gratitude and something else—perhaps a hint of vulnerability.

Alex paused, glancing back at her over his shoulder. A small, genuine smile touched his lips, one that softened the usual guardedness in his expression. "Alex," he replied simply, before he descended the mushroom stairs.

As he stepped off the last mushroom, Alex’s thoughts were already shifting to his next move. He scanned the corners of the myconid colony, where shadows lingered, casting eerie shapes against the bioluminescent glow. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and the peculiar mustiness that clung to the Underdark. It was an alien world, hostile and uninviting, yet something about it stirred an odd sense of calm within him.

A few steps ahead, a figure caught his attention—a hobgoblin, hunched over a table cluttered with books and scrolls. The creature seemed engrossed in its work, murmuring softly to itself as it pored over the ancient texts. Alex observed him for a moment, noting the intense focus with which the hobgoblin studied the pages, as if searching for some elusive truth.

Sensing Alex’s presence, the hobgoblin straightened, his yellow eyes locking onto Alex’s with a mix of curiosity and guarded interest. "A visitor," the hobgoblin said, his voice deep and resonant, carrying a peculiar warmth. "You are a welcome sight. But let us observe the custom of the locals." As he spoke, Alex felt a subtle tug within his mind, an almost imperceptible connection forming between them.

He realized with a start that the hobgoblin’s voice was resonating inside his head, not just in his ears. It was a strange sensation, intimate yet unsettling. "Spores seem to connect our minds," Alex noted aloud, his tone thoughtful as he recognized the source of the telepathic link.

"Yes," the hobgoblin confirmed, tapping the side of his head lightly, a knowing smile on his lips. "This is their main purpose, to allow living beings to communicate telepathically. Remarkable, isn’t it?"

Alex nodded, though the strangeness of it still left him slightly uneasy. "(Blurg, proud member of the Society of Brilliance, at your service,)" Blurg added, his telepathic voice carrying a formal air. But as he spoke, a grimace flickered across his face, and he shook his head, as if disoriented. "Or perhaps not. Your mind is far too complex compared with the fungi," he muttered, a note of frustration creeping into his voice.

"(Alex, I'm a traveler,)" Alex responded, projecting his thoughts back to Blurg with surprising ease. The mental exchange felt almost natural, as if he had always known how to communicate this way.

Blurg’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. "Hmm, are you a psionic by chance?" he asked, clearly intrigued by Alex’s effortless grasp of telepathy.

"No, I just know a few tricks I picked up along my travels," Alex replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. He wasn’t about to reveal the full extent of his abilities to a stranger.

"Very interesting," Blurg mused, his curiosity clearly piqued. "How can I help you?"

"Can you tell me about your society? I’ve never heard of it," Alex asked, steering the conversation toward something more concrete.

"Understandable," Blurg replied with a nod. "We are a small group and rarely stay in one place for long. My colleagues and I work to improve conditions in the Underdark. This need not be such a dire and hostile place." He spoke with a quiet passion, a hint of idealism that seemed almost out of place in such a grim setting. "But it’s curious for a surface dweller to be here. What has brought you down so deep?"

"I fell through a hole and decided to explore the place," Alex said with a shrug, his voice light, almost casual, as if discussing an ordinary event. But the absurdity of it—falling through a hole into the Underdark—made Blurg chuckle.

"A hole? Haha." Blurg’s laughter was rich and hearty, a sound that seemed to defy the gloom around them. "But I must warn you, the Underdark is not a place you can explore without thorough preparation."

"I can manage," Alex replied, his tone confident, though he knew Blurg was right. The Underdark was treacherous, a labyrinth of dangers lurking at every turn. "But who is this place’s apex predator?"

Blurg’s expression grew more serious. "Besides the bulette and hook horrors in this part, there are none. But the Underdark is home to many deadly monsters, so I advise you not to go too far."

Just then, Alex felt a presence beside him, something moving with a slow, deliberate glide. His muscles tensed, instincts screaming at him to react. He turned, his hand forming in to a fist , only to stop short when he saw what it was—an illithid, a mind flayer, its appearance both horrifying and fascinating. Its tentacled face moved slightly, as if tasting the air, and Alex could feel a psychic pressure brushing against his mind, probing, searching.

"This is my colleague, Omeluum," Blurg said quickly, sensing Alex’s tension. "I know it's appearance is not the friendliest, but please remain calm."

"(Your brain is very peculiar, very strong,)" Omeluum’s voice echoed in Alex’s mind, cold and analytical, as if the mind flayer were dissecting his very thoughts.

Alex felt the mental probe intensify, a sharp, invasive presence trying to pierce through his defenses. But with a practiced ease, he raised a mental barrier, blocking Omeluum’s intrusion. "(Thank you, I could say the same,)" Alex replied, his mental voice cool and composed, matching the illithid’s tone.

"How does one become colleagues with an illithid?" Alex asked aloud, his voice betraying a hint of skepticism.

"(I escaped the elder brain’s influence and fled as far as possible. I joined the Society because even before I was transformed, I had a scientific mind. I was a herbalist,)" Omeluum explained telepathically, it tone matter-of-fact, yet there was an underlying current of something else—perhaps a lingering bitterness, or a sense of loss.

"Interesting story," Alex said, though his suspicion lingered. "How did you escape the elder brain?"

"(I was teleported, and the distance was so great it snapped the leash,)" Omeluum replied, his voice steady.

Alex eyed the illithid, his skepticism not entirely dispelled. "(I can assure you, if I were under control, I wouldn't be here in the first place,)" Omeluum added, his mental tone tinged with a touch of resignation.

"As a mind flayer, do you know what happens if a tadpole dies while inside the victim’s skull?" Alex asked, his question pointed, probing for more information.

Omeluum’s mental voice paused, as if considering the question carefully. "(Strange question,)" Omeluum noted, the mental connection carrying a hint of curiosity. "(Usually, it's the other way around, or they both die simultaneously. But in rare cases, if a tadpole dies, it calcifies, becoming nothing but a piece of smooth bone.)"

That was all Alex needed to know. The information was unsettling, yet oddly comforting in its finality.

"How long do you plan to stay here?" Alex asked Blurg, shifting the conversation back to the present.

"A few more weeks," Blurg replied, his tone thoughtful. "Then we will travel to another part. Our work here is almost complete."

"I found a strange sword stuck in a rock, covered with blood, near the Selunite outpost," Alex mentioned, his words casual, though he watched Blurg closely for any reaction.

Blurg’s eyes flickered with interest, though he tried to keep his expression neutral. "I think I saw it with one of my focusing lenses. But wasn’t that place patrolled by three minotaurs?" he asked, a hint of caution in his voice.

"Let's say they are not a problem anymore," Alex said, his tone cryptic. "Do you know anything about it?"

Blurg hesitated, clearly wanting to ask more, but he held back, perhaps sensing that pushing too hard would only close off Alex further. "Yes, I can inspect it if the path is clear," Blurg said finally.

"(I will come with you. The Underdark is very unpredictable,)" Omeluum added, his telepathic voice carrying a subtle undertone that Alex couldn’t quite place—perhaps concern, or a desire to observe him more closely.

Alex suspected this was their way of saying they wanted to keep an eye on him. With the conversation concluded, Alex, Blurg, and Omeluum moved out.