We left the temple with death in our wake - their fault, not ours - and a small library's worth of knowledge in our minds. Just outside was a portal. Sparking, malfunctioning, dangerous.

An arm thrust out, waved in the air, and attempted to grasp a hold from which to pull the rest of its body to safety. A thought stirred as I watched the struggle with bemusement.

My imagination wandered. My senses were overwhelmed with blood. As I turned from completely senseless slaughter, the Urge within tempted me with ignorance. I would merely be claiming... a trophy. A tribute to a wonderful morning with a new companion. What better way to remember a long forgotten temple of Jergal, the forgotten lord of the dead, than a hand without a body?

Eventually, it would wish me to embrace it fully. But for now, it would accept a single cut.

I did not dwell for long. If I had, perhaps the temptation would have grown too strong.

Instead, I focused my thoughts on the portal itself. Used my divine power, stabilizing the magic. I pulled on the outstretched limb to reveal a middle-aged human: male. Gale.

He claimed to have been from the illithid ship. I do not remember him, but he saw me. I felt the worm within his brain, giving some veracity to his story.

He may prove useful.

He offered profuse apologies for having neglected his studies in the areas of cephalopod banishment. His words were not sincere. He was snide. Sarcastic.

He is... talkative. It is difficult for my words to keep up with his. Loquacious came to mind, but it is not my word. It is his.

But... I do not hate him.

Gale fell from the sky as I did. When Shadowheart drove the ship to the ground, saving us and killing the illithid. He saw a magical glint in the distance as he fell swiftly toward death. He reached out, entered the portal, and got stuck.

I claimed divine intervention. I did not wish to be this open to a stranger, but I felt the need to answer in kind.

Conversation turned to the illithid worms. He asked of mine. It is none of his business.

He retreated. Immediately.

He is smart.

He claimed we need a powerful healer. To deal with his worm. Our worms.

He asked to join our search. He wanted to thank us for our aid, wished to return the favor.

Gale is not sincere. He is manipulative. But... he does not hide his motivations. It is almost playful. Is he... joking?

At least he plays grateful well enough. I saw no reason to deny him. Not yet.

He asked of our magic capabilities. Then cast aspersions on anything other than the study of arcane tomes. Faith and gifts from the gods are not true magic.

Why would he ask the question when he already knew the asnwer? We already spoke of divine intervention.

He only wanted an opportunity to brag. But why? Is he self-conscious of his own abilities. How close he came to death, and that he needed the aid of others? Is he only grasping on to what he can, while he can? To maintain some manner of self-confidence, that he is still a grand, powerful mage?

He continued to ramble, meaningless words. I reached into his mind, to see what I could find.

A swirl of untamed, raw magic suffused his soul. Power unlike any I have seen.

Probably.

Such strength would have left an indelible stain on my spirit. I would have remembered the sensation, even as the rest of my memories faded to nothingness.

He felt my presence, raised his defenses. He forced me out.

Gale is hiding something. I pushed him for answers. He denied me.

His growing anger stopped mine. I paused, long enough to consider my own secrets. How I might act should anyone have attempted to force them from me.

They would not be alive.

Gale was measured, calm, collected. His anger was justified, but he did not let it control him. He did not kill.

Perhaps he was not one to kill.

But I do not hate him.