boxofmisfits | It's Not a Software Glitch

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It's Not a Software Glitch

Sometimes the crew of the Chimaera figured that high command sent them on missions to the Unknown Region just so they didn't have to acknowledge the alien Grand Admiral for a while. Thrawn just took such assignments in stride. Scouts had reported the discovery of a backwater planet near the Unknown Region, and their reports sounded rather strange. A world host to many different native sapient races, able to do strange things that science couldn't explain, which hadn't become space-faring or even technologically caught up to most of the galaxy.

Thrawn was to send a camera crew down to film the planet, both as intel and as potential propaganda material. 'See what these people are going through and how nice would it be if the Empire helped them?' and all that. Thus the Chimaera had taken residence over a large city, later identified as Baldur's Gate, much to the citizens' horror and awe. Apparently their world was no stranger to invaders from another realm.

It was during one of these filming sessions that the crew ran into a rather odd glitch. They filmed a small group of seven people, but only six were showing up on the camera. They could see the man with their own eyes, he was right there, and yet no matter what, he just wasn't showing up on camera. Immediately the group had gone to the tavern where they were staying and reported this to Thrawn. The only explanation was that it was a software glitch, unlike anything they'd seen before. That explanation didn't satisfy Thrawn.

Curiosity immediately piqued, Thrawn asked for a description of the man and the location of where they'd captured the footage, and off he went. He had a pair of Death Troopers, in civilian clothes, nearby just in case, and Thrawn himself wore a hood and sunglasses, which did little to hide his alien features.

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If Astarion was surprised by his appearance, he didn't show it. He'd certainly stared stranger beings straight in the face and as alien visitors went, Thrawn was downright easy on the eyes. Not a tentacle in sight either which Astarion was taking as a plus these days.

His brows went up slightly at being shown the strange slate and he shifted in his seat to lean forward.

"My, that does add an unfortunate couple of extra pounds onto poor Gale, doesn't it? Or perhaps it's simply the novelty of seeing him in a way I'm not used to."

Moving pictures. Filming. Strange indeed.

"You've not seen anyone cast invisibility or an illusory spell yet, I take it?"

Thrawn took note of the way Astarion looked at the video, seeing his curiosity and surprise. Like he was seeing this kind of thing for the first time. He likely was, given the level of technology on this world.

"You were not invisible when this video was taken. Not to the naked eye, at least."

That was another thing about this world, was the presence of magic. Perhaps it was an extension of the Force, or perhaps it was an energy completely unrelated, that collected entirely around this one world. Thrawn had studied artwork of Dathomir, and knew that the Nightsisters had called their power 'magic', but it was still quite different from what this world called magic.

"So that begs the question. What means do you use to hide yourself from all but organic eyes, and what use is such a spell or device to one such as yourself?"

Security cameras didn't exist here, so it couldn't be to pull off robberies without leaving recorded evidence. Perhaps it hid Astarion from artificial constructs, like the animated suits of armor he'd seen. Or there were creatures with artificial eyes and Astarion could sneak past them.

"Which does leave my comment about illusory spells open, does it not?"

While Astarion's expression remained open and playful in much the same way that he had been the entire time, his voice held a hint of something else. Not quite annoyance, not quite a threat. Just a subtle undertone of disliking that a stranger was trying to pry.

Given that Thrawn was confused and curious about it, Astarion was fairly certain they didn't have vampires or vampire spawn where he was from, but that didn't mean that he wanted to go about openly stating what he was. His little group of misfits were one thing- he trusted them. Somewhat.

Trusting anyone else about his condition? Not something he wanted to do.

What would someone who didn't know about vampires do, he wondered. Perhaps something worse than simply ramming a stake through his ribs. Astarion was no stranger to those who saw weaker or different as some experiment to be poked and prodded. Sometimes he was that man himself.

But the issue, as always, was only if it happened to him.

"Perhaps." Thrawn turned off the datapad and laid it face down on the table for now.

Still, Astarion obviously didn't know what a camera was, so he couldn't have prepared his spell ahead of time to avoid showing up on video. Which meant that it was something that was always activated or something Astarion did unconsciously.

"I have seen some magic during my time here, such as the conjuring of fire or ice. Such powers are unlike anything I have ever seen."

"Really?" Astarion asked, with the puzzlement coming through clearly in his voice. Magic was a truly delicious bit of power, after all. Not something he had ever been able to use against Cazador given that Cazador had had the ability to compel him to do whatever he wanted him to do, but.

If freedom had taught him anything it was that magic's power at his fingertips felt as good as holding a blade or drawing the string of a bow back. It wasn't quite the same feeling as ramming a blade into someone hard enough to send the blood splattering over his arm and chest, but it was close. Satisfying in its own way.

"You have flying ships and strange slates that can capture moments in time, but no magic? Seems rather an odd priority to me."

Astarion was no wizard or sorcerer. But he was fond of the arcane. Used it to his advantage where he could. Seemed strange to him that these strangers from the sky didn't avail themselves of the same power.

"There is an energy similar to magic known as the Force, but its use seems more limited than what I have seen of Faerûn's magic."

From what he'd observed of General Skywalker and studied from pre-Empire artwork, the Force mainly allowed telekinesis, heightened senses and reflexes, some amount of precognition, and in some cases, Force lightning. What the Nightsisters used it for was more mysterious, though Thrawn thought he saw hints of necromancy in their artwork.

"I can also assure you that what is said in this room will be kept between the two of us."

"Have you ever been told that it's polite to wine and dine a man first, before asking him his deepest darkest secrets?"

He tilted his glass of wine toward Thrawn to further punctuate that point, before flawlessly swirling the liquid around and then taking a sip. It was an elegant motion. Well-practiced. Very close to being natural.

"And just this one glass of wine doesn't count."

"If you insist," Thrawn took another sip of wine, giving a subtle smile over the rim of his glass. He stood up and went to the door, opening it a crack. "Pik, would you kindly bring two servings of the house special for my guest and I?"

"At once, Grand Admiral." The sound of someone walking off, and Thrawn closed the door before returning to the table.

Thrawn didn't see what was so personal about Astarion's ability. In fact, in his mind, such a thing would be very useful for their spies or other agents. The ability to come and go without tripping an alarm or showing up on cameras was a very useful ability to have.

Pik returned a few minutes later with two plates of the house special: vegetable stew with a side of bread and cheese.

Edited 2023-10-10 07:55 (UTC)

Oh, Thrawn was one of those types. Astarion should have known. Should have seen it. After all, he was more than just a little acquainted with Gale who- while a tad less extreme about it- was much the same way.

"I walked right into that one, didn't I?"

He pondered briefly about casting an invisibility spell and walking out. He was interested in the off-worlders, the power they could possibly bestow. Authority. But being a vampire openly? Had it been that easy his siblings and the rest of Cazador's spawn would still be in Baldur's Gate and not terrorizing the Underdark.

But it was okay. He could choke this unpleasantness down.

Wouldn't be the first time. Wouldn't be the last.

At least this time it was because he wanted to. Because he was considering what it could mean in the long-term, if their visitors decided to make their stay a tad more permanent. Even so he seemed to turn a touch paler as the stew was set down in front of him. To someone else he was sure it was delicious.

To him it felt an awful lot like having a bowl of rot set down in front of him.

Even so, he dutifully picked up his spoon, stirred the contents and lifted to bring to his lips. It tasted foul. Felt fouler. Like ash. Like grit. Like sludge scraped from the filthiest corners of the sewers below. Sticking to his teeth, coating his tongue.

"Why is it that you want to know? I imagine your people must be far more advanced than mine."

"You gave me an opening and I took it." Thrawn stated.

As he ate some cheese on a piece of bread, he watched Astarion carefully. Even if he tried to hide it, Thrawn could see the disgust as he ate. Thrawn tasted a spoonful of his own stew and found that it tasted fine. Perhaps Astarion simply didn't like something in the stew but was eating it just to be polite.

"We have technology that your world does not, yes, but that does not mean I lack curiosity about this world. For example, it is all but unheard for for a world without space travel to have such a diverse range of sapient races."

Thrawn held up his datapad again, scrolling through still pictures of various elves, gnomes, dragonborns, and tieflings.

"That you did. Can't fault you for that one."

He'd walked into that like an idiot. Like he was a boy again. Or one of his victims. Thrawn seemed like less of a spider than he himself had been though- there was curiosity there, but no malice that Astarion could see. Heartbeat alien, but consistent. He wasn't nervous. Wasn't lying.

Astarion tore a piece of bread to dunk into his stew, still with the appearance of a man who was simply eating a meal. There was no furrow of his brows. No wrinkling of his nose. Even as it felt like putting poison in his mouth and chewing. The way he drank from his cup of wine was greedier- washing the feeling and the taste away.

"Is it truly? I can hardly believe a world less diverse than ours exists."

Thrawn still got the impression of a man putting on a performance. Like he was only doing something in the hope that he wouldn't raise suspicion, or would get something that he wanted.

"Usually diversity such as this only comes about when races from other worlds are introduced. Had I not known better, I would have assumed that tieflings came from another world entirely." Divergent evolution was a thing, but even sapient races who came from the same world had similar traits, like fur or gills.

"It is my understanding that before my arrival, there was only one race considered truly alien." Again, he pulled up an image, this one of a drawing from a book. "The beings you call Mind-Flayers."

Draining his glass entirely, Astarion refilled it with quick and practiced motions, filling his glass until the liquid very nearly overflowed. Even though he'd drank half the glass in one go, the taste of the stew lingered on his tongue. It was sour, like milk set out in the heat of the sun for a tenday and with a similarly curdled texture. His ability to pretend was next to none and there had been times in the past where he'd had to choke down a meal too, but there was no getting around that wine made it go down easier.

"The githyanki are as- ah- alien as the illithids I'd say."

Until he'd met Lae'zel, they- much like the mind flayers- had been abstract concepts. Creatures he knew by name but couldn't quite put a finger on. The kennels had hardly been a place of learning, and whenever he was out, it was always for a particular purpose. His most recent adventure had taught him more than he ever thought possible- more than he might have cared for.

And yet here he was. Across the table from another species, another person, who brought with him a touch of somewhere else. Though this time around it was by choice. Because there were things he wanted. Even if he'd need to put in quite a bit of work, apparently.

"I see," Thrawn knew about the githyanki, but had some trouble finding examples or replications of their artwork, and there were very few of them around Baldur's Gate, thus his information on them was limited.

"I seem to recall that you had other questions. Please, ask them."

Letting Astarion sate his own curiosity would help Thrawn in the long run, and provide more trust between the two.

Edited 2023-10-11 01:56 (UTC)

"Quite a few, actually."

Astarion could think of several reporters who would love to have this chance. A few of his companions would have enjoyed it too, he thought. Gale in particular given that he was the curious sort. Astarion's motives weren't nearly as pure and his curiosity was rooted in his selfishness and opportunism.

"I suppose the most pressing would be-" He paused, tilting his head, and with the hand not holding his spoon he gave a slight gesture, "Why are you here? I understand opportunity better than most and while the people have much to offer, it's just- you're not taking anyone. Or anything."

A pause, a slight sigh to go along with a half-smile, "Not yet, anyway. You've just been going around so far- capturing these moments in time? Or is it also capturing something else? Souls? Energy? The winning smiles of the fair people of Baldur's Gate?"

That would explain why he was so interested in Astarion not showing up on that slate of his. If it needed to be able to see him to take something from him. Another spoonful of his stew then, followed by another drink of wine.

All fair questions, and it was almost charming how Astarion seemed to think cameras were some arcane devices for devious purposes.

"I'm here because my Empire recently discovered your world. For now, our mission is thus: take videos of your society and edit them into a product that will show the citizens of the Empire how benevolent we are for not letting them live as you do."

Thrawn's tone still betrayed no outward emotion, but there was a hint of disdain in his words. He'd seen for himself that while this world wasn't at the same technological level as Coruscant, they were hardly primitive. They had magic, they had their own mechanical contraptions, and some had even found ways to combine magic with science. Thrawn's people didn't have certain technologies that the Empire had either, but that didn't make the Chiss primitive.

"Fear not, for cameras do not steal anything but moments in time."

"Ah. We're an example of how your people don't have to live in filth as we do then."

Disappointing.

Not outside of what he could have assumed with a little more context, but disappointing. There was something in Thrawn's words that made Astarion think he didn't agree with how this Empire of his saw the people of Faerûn, but even if he didn't, Astarion knew better than most what happened when the people with the power had their own interpretation of the world.

Whatever sympathies Thrawn might have, they may as well be lying dead by the side of the road as whatever superiors he had went their own way.

"I suppose I'm not terribly surprised. The ones who have always look down on those who do not- it's almost comforting to hear that that's true everywhere."

He'd once said that himself. Those with power could do whatever the hell they wanted. Everyone else had to live with the consequences. It wasn't true of everyone, he had learned that much. But it seemed that in the grand scheme of things that fact was universal.

At least that meant that it was something that could be manipulated if he just got close enough to do so. A way to take advantage given the opportunity.

"For now, though. Does this mean that we might serve another purpose eventually?"

A half smile again, "If you are going to start snatching people off the streets, I'd appreciate the warning now. I hear the Underdark is quite lovely once you get used to the dampness and the danger."

"More or less."

What would someone like Astarion think if he saw Coruscant or even Onderon? Naboo actually looked similar to Baldur's Gate in terms of aesthetic, though it still had the technology that the rest of the galaxy did.

"At the moment, the Empire is considering setting up a base, but they are awaiting my report. I will of course mention this business with the cult, and the Mind Flayers, which may put a hold on any plans until they get sorted out."

Thrawn ate the last bit of cheese off his plate, washing it down with more wine. He took more dainty sips, since Astarion seemed intent on drinking the whole bottle at this rate.

"So they wish to consider setting up shop here regardless of how primitive the people are."

Astarion could understand. The people were primitive in comparison, but they had magic. Resources. Plenty to offer, even if technology wasn't one of them. A lot of things to take advantage of, and with the people not capable of fighting back. Fear was quelled for the moment given that nothing had happened, but if they showed opposition, then that could change in an instant.

Especially since this Empire likely had more of those ships. Entire fleets, perhaps. And where there were warships, there were weapons.

He scooped up the last of his stew then, and finished it off with another deep drink from his glass of wine. Despite drinking plenty of it, he didn't seem to be drunk at all. Nor was there any more color on those pale cheeks. No, Astarion drank it down the same as he would drink water down- and poured himself another glass. He'd need it to get through the bread and the cheese.

"I don't see how the mind flayers or the cult would be of much concern to a people so advanced- though I suppose wariness is understandable. One wrong move and one or more of your people might end up with tadpoles burrowed in their brains and a nasty little loss of free will."

"Unfortunately I have only been able to find secondhand accounts of Mind Flayers." They didn't create artwork, and he couldn't exactly study their tactics firsthand. All he had deduced was that this cult of the Absolute had something to do with them, and something to do with the worship of dark gods.

What Thrawn had learned came from books and artwork of Mind Flayers, depicting their ships and what they did to those they captured.

Thrawn wondered if Astarion's resistance to alcohol was a trait of High Elves, or if it had something to do with his ability to hide from cameras.

"I would rather not needlessly endanger my troops, officers or crew."

Edited 2023-10-11 09:45 (UTC)

"My advice would be to not go looking for a firsthand account. One moment you're looking into them, the next moment you are one of them and all traces of the man you are now is gone."

Normally Astarion wouldn't care to warn someone away from danger- wasn't his business whether or not a stranger went and found trouble, after all. But when it came to mind flayers, he was happy to keep them from gaining anything they might want. They had saved him from Cazador. Given him the sun and the world in color. But had things been any different then he would long since have become one of them.

And he was too pretty to have his face split open.

"Get a tadpole in your brain and suddenly you're bleeding from every orifice and your face splits open to make way for-" He brought a hand up to his chin, with his fingers pointed outward to indicate tentacles, "Not a pretty process, I assure you. And losing that pretty face of yours might just be considered a tragedy."

"I will pass along that advice to my Death Troopers and media team," Thrawn assured him. "And stay away from them myself." Yet he wouldn't mind getting a hold of one of these tadpoles so that his science team could study it. Surely there was a way to acquire one safely. Such an interesting, if horrifying, way to reproduce.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, you know."

"Who says it's flattery?" Astarion asked, his tone light and almost jovial, lips curling into a smile. It didn't quite reach his eyes, but then his smiles almost never did unless he was speaking to a specific set of people. Maybe his smiles had been easier in the past. More genuine. He couldn't remember any more.

These days they were all part of the act when he found it necessary to put one on.

"It's flirtation."

He ate a little of the cheese and bread, and almost cringed as the texture was worse than the stew. The bread felt like it turned to ask on his tongue. Sapping away any moisture and turning his mouth drier than a desert. The food he'd eaten felt like a heavy knot in his stomach. He washed it down with another sip of wine to alleviate both feelings.

"I mean, we're both attractive men. Had I still been a magistrate I'd say we are legally obligated to flirt at least a little."

His brows raised, "Unless you're only into women- in which case I'll stop. I can behave."

"Now who's being forward?" Thrawn replied with dry wit, though it probably came out sounding more deadpan than he intended.

He gazed at Astarion, studying him like he was a particularly interesting and challenging puzzle for him to solve. The smile didn't quite reach his eyes, and Thrawn had noticed by now that he smiled in such a way that he didn't show all of his teeth. It was careful, practiced.

"Fortunately for you, quite the opposite. I'm exclusively attracted to men."

"You started it."

Maybe there wasn't an opportunity to be found here. Maybe Thrawn's Empire saw vampires in much the same way as the people of Faerûn- and he was sure they had something far worse than stakes in that case. They didn't seem the types to rely on clerics with sharp wooden sticks should a vampire come knocking. And if that was the case, Astarion was playing a very dangerous game even aside from the whole being able to be in the sun making it hard to peg him as a vampire thing.

He was currently safe as could be from the sun- something he hoped would continue even after the business with the brain was over. But not safe as could be should someone decide to ram a stake between his ribs.

"Ah," He smiled, somewhat lopsided, but charming still, "Fortunate for me indeed."

Could he go through with it if his flirtation was successful was an entirely different question- and one he didn't intend to try and answer yet.

"So if this Empire of yours sets up a base here- what would that mean for the fine primitive folk of Faerûn?"

What it meant for him specifically was way more important, of course. But best not put that particular trait of his on full display either.

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