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It’s chaos.
As he struggles to keep his balance on the ice that now covers the floor, Martin can’t help but hope that whatever Entity has orchestrated this—the Eye, the Web, Something Else—is bored out of Its mind right now.
He hopes that this group he’s found himself a part of is the worst source of whatever entertainment It is seeking, but, as he watches Gillion and Astarion struggle against the Overseer, he doubts it.
“I can’t believe you’re duelling two people at once! That’s so— what the fuck are we?”
Martin doesn’t know what sort of things people are supposed to say in fights for their life, but he’s pretty sure it’s not whatever Gillion is saying.
At least he’s staying optimistic?
…is it optimism? Or just a wild misreading of the situation? Martin doesn’t know.
He also doesn’t Know. Whatever it was that dropped that useless information on him back in
the sleigh seems to have vanished, and to say Martin is annoyed about that would be an
understatement.
If you’re going to make me look suspicious for Knowing things I shouldn’t, you could at least give me something helpful. The Overseer’s biggest weakness, perhaps?
Nothing. Of course.
That’s fine! Martin didn’t want the information anyway!
The Overseer sneers, “I believe there are five of you duelling me. If anything, you’re the ones who are dishonorable.”
Gillion laughs, “Overseer? I hardly know her—”
It happens so fast, Martin almost misses it.
The Overseer swings at Gillion, his sword catches the fishman in the side and sends him
flying back into the ice-covered wall.
[take a major injury and a minor injury]
What? What was—?
There is ice spreading outwards from the gash in Gillion’s side.
[so, what does it mean if I have two major injuries?]
Martin tries to call Gillion’s name. It gets stuck in his throat.
There’s no ice covering his body, but still he feels frozen. He can’t move. It’s not your turn.
Gillion will be fine though. He has to be fine.
Right?
[he has a lethal and a minor. With this– this would kill you]
He might be unconscious, but he’ll be fine.
They’ll fix it.
[do you have any last words?]
Martin watches you’re always watching, always goddamn Watching as Gillion hits the wall, his head makes a wet-sounding thud, and a blue liquid starts to pool underneath him as he slumps to the floor.
It takes only a moment for Martin to realize the blue is Gillion’s blood. He doesn’t get up.
A gasp punches its way out of Martin’s throat, and suddenly he can move again.
Tripping over his feet as he stumbles over to his friend? teammate, dropping to his knees and struggling not to heave as he feels wetness start to soak into his pant legs.
“No, no, no, no, no,” Martin’s hands are slippery with blood as he presses down on the wound in Gillion’s side.
The blood is warm, but the body beneath it is cold, and Martin’s fingers scrabble at Gillion’s neck, over his… gills? Of course—of course he has gills.
“Round two, motherfucker.” Martin hears Astarion say. He hopes that means they’ve gained the upper hand.
“I failed first-aid!” Martin doesn’t know who he’s speaking to, doesn’t know if anyone’s even listening. “How do I find a pulse– who knows how to find a pulse?!”
You’re thirty-two years old and you don’t know how to find a pulse? That doesn’t seem right.
The Overseer is dead. The others gather round, everyone at a loss for what to do next.
Outside, Martin hears guards pounding at the door that Daisuke blocked. The ice around them is melting.
“Fuck…fuck. Right—fuck—we had a plan.” Astarion pulls out a paper scroll.
“This—” Martin gestures wildly. “This wasn’t part of the plan!”
Daisuke looks like he’s on the verge of throwing up. “Wh-wh-what do we do with him then?”
“Well, we can’t just leave Gillion here!” Martin gets to his feet.
[do any of us know that Gillion’s briefcase is a bag of holding?]
Martin glances over at the briefcase Gillion has been carrying around. He doesn’t know or Know why. It’s just a briefcase.
The next few minutes are a blur that Martin struggles to keep track of.
Astarion reveals that the briefcase is magic? Like an infinite space inside a bag?
His description of it reminds Martin of the Coffin, and he tries to push the thought away.
Never mind that. They had a plan and they’re sticking to the plan.
That’s what Martin tells himself as he watches the others load the Overseer’s body into the briefcase, collecting his weapons first for later use.
He disappears into the void inside the bag, and Martin shudders, mind running through the Buried, the Vast, the End, the Dark.
He doesn’t want to ever find out for himself what it’s like in that bag.