The Submissive Urge

A slows you suddenly after falling for so long from the crashing Nautiloid. Though the feeling of an invisible holding you and stopping you so jarringly is more welcoming than the rapidly approaching shores, it is not so gentle that you could avoid losing consciousness. You awake who-knows-how-long later with no idea HOW you arrived there except for the unhelpful, direct answer of a fall from a crashing ship; the problem being that you have no memory boarding. All manner of Mind Flayer shenanigans could have lead to memory loss, but then how are you aware of things such as this an not others?

Your mind is immediately a jumbled mess of errant thoughts and strange feelings belonging to no source that you recognize. WHAT is a simple question. What you are defines so little that it is almost not worth mentioning, but a slender body with no extra appendages, pointed ears and a height somewhere around six feet is unmistakably that of an elf and the ashy skin of your hands states you are a Drow. The curve from your waist to your hips, and the weight and protrusion of your chest suggests you are a woman by sight, but an internal feeling accompanying that expression quickly confirms that identity through and through. A sensation of power is connected to your mind. It flows through your veins and you know it so easily to be 'sorcery' despite not knowing anything else. You are a Sorcerer. In simple terms it means that you have an ancestry that granted you power, but from what side of your family or in what manner you have no clue. It is strange to know so much about what you are without having any clues as to the details surrounding your identity. Strange and... Comical.

“Hah.” Intonation. A voice that follows and fits the identity by it's soft timber and high pitch. Though 'what' is answered so easily, WHO is the question to answer those strange thoughts and emotions running wild within you. A blush and a rush of excitement as a stern green woman pointed a sword at you, rather than fear or disdain. An pleasure at being restrained within the pod and tortured with a creature placed in your head, as well as an admiration for your powerful torturer. Your breath is still taken while your heart skips at the recent memory. If that captor were still alive how you wish to feel it's absolute power over you. You feel embarrassed immediately at those thoughts of self-destruction and brush them aside. 'Who' is a question that will not be answered so easily, however something that could be a name, but seems more akin to a title emerges. You are 'The Submissive Urge'.

A deep blush washes over your pale cheeks. “Wait... That can't be right.” How could you think something so strange and obscene about yourself? As if it was written into your soul, it is there taunting you, because even this uncontrollable urge is something that arouses you to no end as you imagine what manner of mischievous being placed this humiliating curse on you. If they were watching you struggle in this moment how satisfied would they feel at your discomfort?

You shake your head vigorously because the immediately important question of WHERE arises in your mind with WHY and WHEN as an impossible to answer hangers-on. You are on a beach surrounded by corpses. Thralls like... You? Were you one of them? Is that why your mind no longer feels like your own? It would almost serve to explain why you are the way you are but you told yourself you were leaving those thoughts aside for now. Thralls scattered the beach except for one unique enough-looking figure that drew your attention immediately. You are slightly terrified to approach this dark-haired beauty for quite a good reason, but she is the only thing in sight that seems to still be breathing. As you look her over you still see in her hand a peculiar device, like a toy or a puzzle. It tempts you with its appearance, but your hands move to the woman's shoulders instead as you shake her awake.

She gradually opens her eyes and rubs her head wearily. A half-elf woman in chain with peculiar imagery over her armor. Her dark hair is bound into a long braid and her pretty features twit into a stern and harsh appraisal of you.

“You! You were with that Gith. You left me calling out for help in that pod. You didn't even try to help.” The way she says Gith is similar to the way one talks about a bug in the room, disgusted and hesitant to even allow it space to live.

You lower your head. “She told me not to so I felt like I had to.”

“Oh.” She lifts her chin and asks guardedly.

“You're her then?”

“Not... To my knowledge.”

She looks at you strangely. Her tone becomes sarcastic. “So you must just do everything that strange women ask you to do, then.”

You scratch your chin, turning to avoid her gaze. “I think so, too.”

She is so stunned by such an oddly genuine answer that she raises both brows and can not speak for a few seconds before she finally says.

“I don't forgive you, but-” She pans her gaze over the beach and the crashed ship.

“It seems you and I are the only ones alive so we are stuck with each-other. I am Shadowheart.”

“I am The Submissive Urge.” You say without thinking, as if egged on by some unseen authority.

“O-oh god! I mean-”

“You should keep that to yourself.” She angled away from you and began exploring the beach ahead. You covered your face in your hands for a minute, unable to contain regret at having said something so strange to the woman you just met. You can tell that this odd scenario will become an anxiety that decorates your thoughts for many sleepless nights to come as it plays over and over again before you're allowed to sleep.

-

Exploring the beach turns up very little aside from quite a bit of fish and a locked door that neither of you have any ability to open. The only way forward seems to be through burning wreckage itself. Past more intellect devourers than you would care to remember you find the dying form of a Mind Flayer. It lays on its side struggling. It was not the figure that 'tortured' you and placed the tadpole in you head, but instead the figure fighting the devil on the bridge. You get closer and look down and feel its mind calling out to you. A worm like you should be happy to give your life to such a superior being and if you are being honest with yourself, how could you ever disagree? You kneel down and prepare to give everything to him in the form of a kiss.

“Are you a fool?” Shadowheart pulls you back by the shoulder before you can carry out your warped act of devotion. She stares down in disgust at the being and it is so weakened that all it takes is a quick stomp to end it once and for all. Its squishy head turns to a pool on the ground. She seems annoyed at having to stain her boot with it's blood and tries to scrape the viscera off on a jagged segment of rubble. When the Mind Flayer ceases to be you feel yourself again and realize.

“I think so.” You have no ability to stop yourself whatsoever. You have no desire to die, but you would find if it commanded and you would move like a marionette towards that fate. It was terrifying and not nearly as exciting after the fact as it was in the moment.

“I can't control myself.” You admit.

“Any time someone orders me around I feel an urge to be obedient. If I feel it as an urge there, a Mind Flayer shooting those thoughts directly into my brain must just be impossible to resist.”

Shadowheart looks upon you with a mix of pity and disdain. “It seems like someone did quite a number on you. I don't like that my only companion is so easily swayed.” Indeed, she was right. Like a sapling, only no strong wind is needed to blow you over. Just a slight wind would do the work just as well.

“If you were completely useless I'd leave you but you did show a bit of usefulness in slaying those brains. If you were actually just a useless individual that completely bent at every single order then you would've come when I told you to let me out on the ship. That you didn't means that you do have 'some' sense. Just not enough to choose the right side.”

“Sorry?” You are confused by her roundabout words.

“What I'm saying is-” She places a hand over her chest.

“You pick the right side. A Gith has no care for you or me. That's obvious, right? I care enough to save you from something like that Mind Flayer so you should follow me and forget about that Gith. We'll figure out a way to take these tadpoles out on our own.”

“Isn't a Gith more likely to know more about the tadpole than anybody?”

“Maybe, but who's to say their cure isn't to just cut our heads off and reach in through the neck to pull it out? I wouldn't doubt it.” Shadowheart stares you down.

“Besides. Why are you even arguing with me? Don't you want this Ms. 'Urge.'”

The urge pulls you into her grasp, but it does not feel so bad. A similar feeling to obeying Lae'zel, though she seemed far more rewarding at the first realization of obedience. No matter. Lae'zel is no where in sight. Shadowheart is your new friend. If you play your cards right, perhaps something more?

-

'Release me at once, revrykal.' Lae'zel's mind meshes with yours, as it was the first time you spoke to her. It was the occurrence that kept her from striking you down immediately as a thrall. Thus began your initial servitude to her. However it seems you are destined to meet wherever you go. Two Tieflings hold the warrior in a cage, arguing over what to do with their prey. They seem uncertain. Shadowheart shares their apprehension and you know that she is partial to leaving Lae'zel to her fate, however you are far less certain. As you hesitate her sharp voice cuts into your thoughts again.

'K'Chakhi! What are you waiting for. Free me and I will handle these creatures.' You feel torn between the two women.

“Is it really necessary to let her die?” You ask Shadowheart.

“Did either of you think that when you left me aboard the ship?”

A pang of guilt. “So... Are we no better than her?”

Shadowhearts eyes roll. “Do what you like. I wont help if she starts attacking.”

You reason with the two Tiefling. They have no stomach for an execution after your honeyed words convince them that it would be so easy to simply look the other way while leaving. What business is it of theirs if a Gith lives or dies? You would take care of it, you said. Which left the decision between you, Shadowheart and Lae'zel herself. Neither make it easy for you.

'If I let you down do you promise not to fight us?'

'No.'

'What- well... Could you at least cooperate?'

'No.'

'Do you want to just stay here and become a Mind Flayer while caged?'

She relents finally. 'Release me. We will find a creche. There an Istik will have a way to heal this infection before it takes us, but we must go quickly or there is no point in any one of us living.'

“Lae'zel wants to help us find a way to cure the infection. She thinks it's with her people.” You mention to Shadowheart.

“How nice. Will there be pudding as well?”

“Do we have any other ideas at the moment.”

Shadowheart pauses. “No. But if we find one we're taking it without humoring her, right?”

“Of course.” There is a turn in her expression that you feel particularly sensitive to.

“What's wrong?”

“I'm upset that you aren't simply doing everything I say. Is there something about that woman that spurs you into action?”

You consider the words. Without a doubt there is and to put it simple, Lae'zel seems quite ready to dominate you immediately after she is released. Shadowheart has a more quiet dominance about her. She seeks control but in a way that is less all-encompassing. Both tempt the urge in their own way. How confusing this curse is. You shoot a Firebolt under the cage, missing completely. Then you shoot another and luckily hit. The cage cracks out from under Lae'zel and the warrior lands on her feet. No sooner than that is she already threatening you and your companion.

“Come revrykal. We find a Creche as soon as possible.” You were excited by the brisk treatment. Your obedience is taken for granted by her. It seems obvious to her that you should serve her. You see Shadowhearts annoyance in your dog-like behavior towards her.

“At some point you are going to have to choose between me or the Gith. Nothing says any of us have to be traveling together.” As she says that she clutches something stored safely within her bag and relents.

“But... You're right for now. Until we have a better option we can chase this 'creche.' Idea.”

* * *

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