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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Astarion remained still, draped over Thrawn- eyes closed and looking for all intents and purposes like a man dozing off. He waited- waited until he was certain the other man had fallen asleep, before carefully slipping out of his grip. All that time playing the rake, he had gotten just as good at disentangling himself from the grip of a sleeping lover as he was at certain other things.

And when it came to moving about silently he was an expert. He found a towel to wipe between his legs, before slipping his clothes on and fetching the wrapped goblet to stuff into the front of his coat jacket- his movement across the floorboards was silent as the grave too, as he found a note and scribbled down a thank you for the pleasant time message to put on top of Thrawn's clothes to be sure the other man would find it.

There was the opportunity to steal of course and the thought of doing so did give him pause... But aside from recognizing the man's outfit as some sort of uniform meaning that he likely owned valuables, he wasn't entirely sure if he could narrow down what was and wasn't of actual interest if he went rifling through pockets, given how alien the clothes themselves were- aside from the cloak.

Knowing his guards were right outside the door, he opted instead for the window after leaving his note- carefully sliding it up and open before getting up on the windowsill and swinging his legs over to the other side, climbing out onto the roof- carefully sliding down along it and lowering himself down along the gutter until he was down on the street.

Given that darkness had fallen outside, and plenty of drunk, sexed up Baldurians were already shambling through the streets it was no issue at all to blend in with the crowd as he set course for a proper bathhouse. He really felt the need to clean himself up before rejoining his companions.

Thrawn woke up a little over an hour later, much to his surprise, as he hadn't assumed he was that tired. Two orgasms in such a short amount of time had been fun, but tiring, it seemed. He immediately noticed that Astarion was gone, and naturally assumed that the elf had woken up before him and slipped away. A shame, for Thrawn had wanted to talk with him more. No matter, because he intended to return to Baldur's Gate in the near future. He, of course, saw the open window and drew his own conclusions.

He read the note with a smile before having Waffle get him some water to wash up. He simply sponged himself off, knowing that he could just use his personal shower later, and got dressed, folding the note and slipping it into his pocket. He also checked to make sure Astarion hadn't taken anything, and was glad that everything still seemed to be in place.

Death Troopers in tow, Thrawn made his way back to the outskirts, where they'd landed the shuttle.

Their mysterious visitors had left about as quickly and mysteriously as they had appeared, though Astarion's mind had quickly moved on as he'd heard about the ship vanishing from their skies sometime in the afternoon of the day after he had spent some time with their alien visitor.

Perhaps nothing would come of the encounter. Or perhaps he would gain something later. It wasn't worth dwelling on for now.

And life certainly quickly got busy afterwards. Dealing with the brain. Fighting against seemingly impossible odds.

Astarion supposed that they were lucky that the brain had disintegrated on its own rather than turn the whole of the Chionthar and the ocean immediately outside the harbor into Netherbrain soup. Of course his mind had quickly turned elsewhere- chased from his mind were thoughts of the damage in the city. Chased from his thoughts were the Netherbrain, the mind flayers, all he and his companions had experienced as he had been chased back into the shadows.

Huddling someplace dark where the sun couldn't reach him until the fall of night.

The worm was gone. The brain. A cult left in shambles much like the city. And he was left alone with a familiar hunger. But at least Cazador was gone. Being a vampire spawn still had its risks, but as safety went Astarion was probably safer than he had been in a long time. Eventually he thought he might follow his siblings into the Underdark.

But for now he remained.

His new nocturnal schedule was awful for staying informed though- the news that the ship and the strangers from the stars had returned didn't reach him until many hours after the ship's reappearance in the skies. Done reporting back to whatever civilization was out there, perhaps. Showing off the primitive folk. Returned for reasons yet unknown to Astarion.

On this particular night, he was seated in one of the booths at the back of the Elfsong- glad his favorite tavern had made it through the crisis without too much damage. He had a glass of wine in front of him, a folded broadsheet with news on the table, pushed to the side so that Astarion could read a book he'd brought along. Taverns really were the best way to listen in on gossip.

Plus it was nice to be able to sit around and do nothing besides looking pretty with no master, no crisis, and- somewhat sadly and a tad less nice- no companions causing mayhem around him.

Thrawn would have liked to stay a little longer to study the local culture, but duty had called up away. The day before leaving, Thrawn had made sure to scan local artwork into holographic replicas, for later study. He also left with several local books about culture, history and lore, finding the paper books rather quaint. In his studies, he had come across art depicting humanoids with fangs, much like Astarion. Quickly latching on to this, he had gathered more art of such beings, and cross-referenced them with a book he'd bought.

Vampires. Creatures of darkness, who fed on blood to survive. All the artwork and lore said that vampires couldn't stand the sun, for it burned them. Yet Astarion had been walking around in the day. Still, the teeth and the matching scars, and his aversion to food, all pointed to Astarion being a vampire.

He had also found artwork of mind flayers, giving him more insight into them, as well as Drow, and other races of Faerûn. The history of Baldur's Gate was particularly eventful.

Two weeks later, they returned to Faerûn, the Chimaera hovering over Baldur's Gate once more. Initial scans immediately caught his attention. Something had happened, and he was determined to go down and see for himself. This time he put more effort into blending in, having his synthweavers craft him false elf ears and Drow armor.

He surveyed the damage to the city, immediately recognizing an orbital bombardment when he saw one, which left him confused. How could such a primitive world suffer from an orbital bombardment? What had caused this damage?

During the walk, he spotted a cart full of mind flayer corpses, and ordered Pik and Waffle to take a couple back to the shuttle, for dissection later. With them occupied, Thrawn made his way to the Elfsong, hoping to overhear rumors and gather information from the bartender. That was when he spotted a familiar head of curly white hair.

"Hello again, my elven friend."

Though there were a fair amount of people around, that alien blood announced Thrawn's presence to him long before his voice did- though Astarion had the grace to not show his reaction to the scent, looking quite absorbed in his reading. Idly flipping the page with red eyes scanning the words written on it.

Only when the other man spoke did he lift his gaze- eyes flicking to his armor, to the ears, and then finally his face. He smiled, though it was the same practiced not quite genuine smile as last time.

"And hello to you, my darling drow," He said, tone light and jovial. Poking just a little bit of fun at the disguise, "Back again already, are we?"

Astarion had expected it to take longer. Though perhaps he shouldn't have, all things considered.

"Done reporting back to your superiors and all that?" He asked, making an idle yet playful little motion with his hand, expression brightening up just a bit. The smile was fake. His sense of humor and theatrical manner was not.

Since he'd been mistaken for a drow during his first visit, and nobody other than Astarion had gotten a look at his ears or uniform, Thrawn saw no reason to not use that to his advantage. Any questions about his eyes could be waved away as magic. He had even been tempted to color his hair white too, only to decide against it.

"Indeed I am." Thrawn took the spot next to Astarion, glad that the elf was playing along with the disguise.

There was that fake smile again. Thrawn ignored it for now. "It seems that I missed something quite eventful since I left."

"I hear the Underdark is lovely this time of year," Astarion commented, tone light and conversational. Anyone around who might catch bits of their chat would likely be reassured by it, given that the way Astarion spoke indicated that the drow he was talking to was Seldarine and thus less worth being anxious about.

Drow had not been directly behind the Netherbrain and everything else that had happened, but tensions were still running a tad high in the aftermath of it all. Better if they were reassured that everything was quite fine.

That was part of why Astarion had holed up in the Elfsong too. He was a familiar face here. Just another adventurer.

He held up a hand to motion to a tiefling waitress, and then held up two fingers- unspoken communication to bring them a few glasses of wine. Thrawn had sat down next to him so Astarion assumed the man was staying for a chat. He set a couple of pieces of gold on the table so Lakrissa could just pick them up when she brought their wine.

"You missed something quite eventful indeed. I wasn't here for it myself," He lied, "But news travels fast even here. Nautiloids, mind flayers... A gigantic elder brain. One could be surprised the city's still standing."

Thrawn had picked up a few coins the last time he was in Baldur's Gate, and found it interesting that it seemed to be the main source of currency, without the silver and copper coins that made up the smaller amounts. High Command had found that part of his report very interesting.

Astarion was lying again. Thrawn could tell. "It certainly looks to have seen better days. What I found most interesting is that the damage seemed to have been done by orbital bombardment. Yet, last time I was here, I saw no evidence that flying machines exist within Baldur's Gate."

His men were scouting some of the damaged areas, so perhaps they would find some answers.

"Also, this gigantic brain you speak of. I saw no remains of that when I returned." Even if it had fallen into the water, he would have seen bits of it washed ashore.

"I'm not certain what an orbital bombardment is- sounds unpleasant- but the nautiloids are ships similar to your own in that they can fly and travel between planes. More tentacles though. You can find remnants of a crashed vessel out that-a-way," He said, gesturing in the sort of vague direction behind himself, to indicate that one would need to leave the city to find it.

"And the ones above Baldur's Gate, ah, opened fire as it were."

He tilted his head, "All second-hand accounts, of course. I was out of the city on business. Had a family reunion to go to. And a funeral. That sort of thing."

Astarion shrugged the shoulder, "As for the brain, I was quite surprised to find the river and ocean unsullied as well. When I heard the news I was certain the waters had turned into elder brain soup."

"I see." Flying ships that traveled between planes. So Mind Flayers had the means to make such vessels but Faerûn did not. Interesting. Thrawn made a mental note to investigate outside of the city and look for a nautiloid, so he could study it. He would have his scouts take holos of it too.

Astarion still wasn't being entirely truthful. Whatever had happened to the brain, it was like it simply disintegrated. Giant brains that vanished upon death, alien flying machines capable of orbital strikes, all of it was very interesting and worth studying.

"I can have my scouts investigate, at any rate." Reaching into his satchel, Thrawn pulled out an old book. "I found the most interesting piece of literature during my last visit. Have you read this one?"

He laid the book down on the table, the cover facing upward: The Curse of the Vampyr.

Astarion was quick to reach out and flip the book over so that the cover faced down- his schedule being nocturnal now and the Elfsong being his haunt for the time being meant that someone would more than likely notice eventually. Ensuring that it took until he was ready to leave though was preferable given that the tavern was so often visited by adventurers- adventurers unlike his previous companions who could overlook the whole vampire thing. Who would see a monster first and a person never.

Last thing he needed was for someone to see the title, look at him, and connect the dots. And then send word to the nearest cleric with a stake or paladin with a bone to pick with the undead.

That Thrawn had figured it out wasn't too much of a surprise- Astarion had been able to tell that he was the clever sort. That he would be so flippant about revealing that he knew however made the vampire bristle. He lowered his voice to just barely a hiss, "What in the Hells are you doing, bringing that out here?"

He slid the book over on the table, to halfway hide it under his own, keeping his voice low, "Are you trying to announce to any nearby adventurer that they ought to fetch a cleric with a sharp pointy stick to put me back in the ground?!"

Hero that helped save Baldur's Gate didn't mean a thing when one was a vampire. There would always be someone who thought that the only good vampire was a dead one.

Thrawn looked impassively at Astarion, bringing his satchel up onto the table, laying it down and covertly sliding the book back inside, the title still facing down.

"I merely asked you a question," Thrawn replied, trying to play it off as an innocent mistake. Lowering his voice, he said, "Those around us are too drunk to notice a little book like this. I believe that I am also attracting more looks than you are."

What with the glowing red eyes, and hair color that was unusual for a drow.

"Might I suggest questions that are a tad less likely to get some of us killed when you also lay the evidence out plain for anyone to see?"

He had become rather wily over the course of his little adventure. More slippery than he had been. And being a vampire spawn did mean that he was more dangerous than he might look.

But he was no match for a group of seasoned adventurers should they get it into their heads that he was a vampire and thus to b hunted. And the last thing he wanted was a second death coming from getting jumped in an alley.

Getting beaten to death's door once was enough. And there was no coming back if it happened again.

Not that he'd even want to if there was a way to turn him into some sort of double-vampire. Two centuries had been more than long enough suffering under someone else. He wouldn't ever want to live as someone else's slave again for even a second.

"Your quaint little book may not say so but my kind is-" He sighed, collecting himself, "Unpopular, to say the least. It describes us as a beast, does it not?"

And vampire lords most certainly were. But Astarion was still a spawn. He always would be. And vampire spawns weren't the way that the book described his kind. Not entirely anyway.

"Yes, the artwork said as much." Some of the art had been made by those revering vampires, possibly thralls or servants who wanted to be granted the gift of the vampire. Most artwork had shown an innate fear of the subject, though. It told him that vampires were monsters to be feared and to meet one was to greet death.

Yet, that hadn't been the impression he'd gotten from Astarion. Not exactly a hero or upstanding sort, but not a monster either. The artwork and book may have just had a certain bias to them, but Thrawn had the impression that he was missing something.

"But now I am certain I know what caused the so-called glitch in the cameras last time we were here."

"I assume it's the same thing as what happens when I try to look into a mirror," Astarion commented, given that that was the only explanation that made sense to him. He couldn't know for sure, of course. Cameras were an enigma to him. And so far as he knew he was perfectly visible to a scrying eye, so cameras couldn't be related to them.

So mirrors were the closest thing he could think of given his lack of reflection in those.

He cut himself off from saying anything further as the waitress came over with their glasses of wine- and she winked at the two, "On the house."

"Are you certain your boss will agree to that?" Astarion asked, brows raised- his tension gone to leave him with the usual easy smile.

"If he's got any complaints he can pay me more to care. 'Sides, you're special," She replied, with a smile and another wink before waving and hurrying off to take orders from another table. Astarion was almost surprised she hadn't gone off to the roof for one of her breaks to spend time with Alfira. His ears could just barely pick up on the sound of a lute being played somewhere above.

Turning his attention back to the other man then, he lowered his voice again as his expression darkened once more, "So did you actually have a point, or were you just endangering my life for the fun of it? And here I thought I'd satisfied you enough last time that you'd be more interested in letting me live."

"I assume that as well. Otherwise, you truly are adept at illusion magic."

He watched the exchange between Astarion and the server, sensing a familiarity between the two. Astarion had said that he was a regular at this tavern, so perhaps he'd taken the time to befriend a member of the staff. Or perhaps the adventuring party he'd been with had helped her once.

He sipped his wine. "Oh, you left me more satisfied than I've been in a very long time. It was all I could do to not rush back here and seek you out again." A moment of weakness on his part. "I was hoping that you would answer some questions I may have. And perhaps if you would consent to having a member of my medical staff give you an examination. Nothing too invasive, I assure you, merely looking you over and perhaps taking a few tissue samples."

"Asking me to come along to be poked and prodded isn't much of a gift for a second date, you know," Astarion said, easing up a little on the anger to school his features and his tone back into something more easygoing. Plenty of people in the Elfsong had seen him around by now, after all. Certainly seen him around enough to have an image of him in their mind as someone with a quick and easy smile and plenty of wit.

Last thing he wanted was to draw attention by being visibly upset for longer than a few moments.

"That's not a no, by the way. More of a what can you do for me in return."

He certainly didn't let people poke, prod, or ask him questions for free.

"Ah yes, a gift. I did promise you that, didn't I?"

Reaching into his bag again, this time Thrawn pulled out a small statue and placed it before Astarion. The style mimicked that of the Sith Empire from thousands of years ago, though it was made by an artist on Naboo. It was a krayt dragon, made of ebony, with two finely crafted prismatic crystals for eyes, and horns plated with silver. If Astarion didn't like it, then Thrawn had a backup gift.

"As for what I can do for you in return, there are many things. I can offer you things much like this," He pointed to the statue. "Or I can offer you information and protection."

Edited 2023-12-08 23:23 (UTC)

Astarion reached to pick the small statue up- examining it and the material it was made from closely. It looked like it would be worth a decent amount should he sell it- more so considering it was from the stars somewhere. But he quite liked the look of it so perhaps he would keep it. It was quite pretty.

The way the light glinted off of the silver and the crystal eyes especially.

"I suppose this is worth getting poked and prodded a little."

Vampires didn't really get sick, so he didn't really have any frame of reference for what it was like to be medically examined. There had been Malus Thorm, but Astarion didn't think he was the standard for doctors. Certainly not doctors not from Faerûn. And if they did something he didn't like, he had his ways of getting out.

"Where I'm going information won't be worth much... Protection though... Hmm..."

That could be useful until he left to join his siblings and the rest of the spawn.

Thrawn smiled with satisfaction as Astarion accepted the gift. Having seen the man's taste in art, and remembering the goblet he'd purchased, Thrawn had a good idea of what Astarion would like. It was good to know that he was correct.

"Protection, yes. You said that you were a magistrate before, yes? Assuming that you were telling me the truth, I may have an offer for you as well."

It was risky, and could backfire, but Thrawn was confident. And it he was right, it could work out in both of their favors.

"I was."

There was honesty there. Because he had been. Admittedly it was centuries ago, and it had been a very long time since he'd put his nose down in a book of law or appeared in court to hand down any rulings. So long that he barely remembered most of it other than the night he'd gotten jumped. But Astarion didn't think it would be that much of an issue to step back into that role if the opportunity presented itself.

Or if it was needed of him.

He'd have to do some reading to refresh his memory or learn something new, but that was already more or less how he liked spending his time.

"I fail to see how that would be of any use to you."

He tilted his head, "... Though I'd guess I'm about to find out."

"That means you have experience in politics," Thrawn stated. "An area that I am sadly inept in."

He never understood how Thrass was so good at politics, or how he kept all those family alliances and rivalries sorted out without needing a chart. Perhaps it was because Thrawn tended to have more faith in people that he was so bad at politics, or his mind simply didn't work that way.

"I need an ally. More than that, I need someone who won't turn on me for their own gain. What I am offering is a partnership of sorts."

"I've not poked about its finer intricacies in quite some time and even if I had, my understanding would be limited to regional politics," Astarion mused, his brow furrowing slightly as he pondered. The ideas of a normal job and a normal life hadn't really entered his mind for quite some time.

The time lived as a free man that he could recall clearly was measured in weeks and not years, after all.

"Though I am brilliant," A pause, before he followed it up, "And beautiful."

Skating by on looks was as much intrinsic to politics as anything else, Astarion believed. Being a massive liar also helped though that was a thought he decided to keep to himself given that he was fairly certain that Thrawn's ineptitude in politics might have something to do with both not being much of a liar and not assuming that politicians would bend the truth for their own gain.

Of course that was only an assumption on his part given how straight-forward he'd seemed on their first meeting. Politicians hated that.

"If you need an ally I'm sure there are about a hundred patriars and local politicians and current magistrates who have more of a horse in the race than I-" He gave a little gesture, not quite dismissive, but something close, before he pressed that hand to his chest- long fingers splaying elegantly over where his shirt was slightly open to draw Thrawn's gaze down to his collarbone, "So I suppose my question is why me? If this is some sort of slight to call me cheap because I'm a few hundred years out of date, then I have to say that I'm hurt by the insinuation, darling."

And immodest, though Thrawn didn't say that part out loud.

Thrawn ran a gloved hand over the rim of his wine glass idly as he regarded Astarion. "Why you, indeed?"

There were plenty of politicians in the city, such as the Duke, but he had duties to Baldur's Gate. And apparently many of the local politicians had thrown their lot in with that Lord Gortash fellow, who had turned out to be a leader of the cult, so Thrawn wasn't about to trust them.

"Because I can give you things that I cannot give them. Protection, the finer things, and I am very good at keeping secrets." He sipped more of his wine. "And I must admit that I am rather fond of you. Even if we have only known each other in a sort time, you fascinate me."

"I suppose I'm not opposed to the idea."

Protection was nice. And Astarion thought he deserved some finer things after the two centuries of pure shit he'd experienced. He hummed and picked up his glass of wine, idly swirling it about before taking a sip. It was quite a nice wine, unlike the swill he had gotten used to on the road- though the swill was pleasant in its own way. Something about the company that had surrounded him at the time perhaps.

Nothing to ponder now.

He tilted his head, "I'll take your interest in taking me under your wing as your Empire being interested in staying."

Thrawn was from the stars somewhere. There had to be plenty of politicians out there on other worlds and planes of existence.

"Which also means dealing with Imperial politics, I'm sure."

Not just Imperial law, but also getting to know the inner workings of other peoples and places. Astarion couldn't remember why he had chosen to become a magistrate all those years ago. Was it a natural place to end up due to some previous connection of his family? Or had he had some sort of special interest in law? He had to have been educated in it. Gone to school somewhere. He could no more remember any of that than he could remember the original color of his eyes though.

"You do understand that I'd be rather limited in any public appearances I'd make? I've been recently confined to something of a... Nocturnal schedule, I'm afraid."

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