Baldur's Gate 3: The Illithid War First three chapters

The world was fire and smoke.

You wake to the acrid sting of burning flesh and the metallic tang of blood in the air. Your head throbs, a dull ache radiating from the base of your skull. The ground beneath you is uneven, littered with debris and the shattered remains of the Nautiloid ship. Flames lick hungrily at the wreckage, casting flickering shadows that dance like specters in the haze.

You try to sit up, but your body protests, every muscle screaming in agony. Memories flash—brief, fragmented. The Mind Flayers. The tadpole. The ship tearing through dimensions, the sky burning red as you plummeted to the ground.

A low groan pulls you from your thoughts. Nearby, a figure stirs, half-buried under a pile of twisted metal. Their face is streaked with soot, their armor dented and scorched. They lock eyes with you, and for a moment, there’s only silence. Then, a sharp, searing pain erupts behind your eyes, and you see—feel—their thoughts. Fear. Confusion. The same parasite writhing in their skull.

The connection snaps as quickly as it came, leaving you gasping for breath. The stranger staggers to their feet, their hand instinctively reaching for a weapon.

“You… you feel it too, don’t you?” they rasp, their voice hoarse.

The stranger’s voice is sharp, cutting through the chaos like a blade. Her eyes, a piercing green, narrow as she studies you. The pain behind your temples fades, but the connection lingers—a faint, unsettling awareness of her thoughts. Fear. Determination. Secrets she’s not ready to share.

“You… you feel it too, don’t you?” she repeats, her tone more insistent this time. Her hand tightens around the hilt of a dagger strapped to her side. The weapon glints in the firelight, its edge still slick with ichor from the battle aboard the Nautiloid.

You nod, your voice catching in your throat. “The tadpole,” you manage to say. “It’s in my head. Just like yours.”

Her expression hardens, but she doesn’t lower her guard. “Then we’re in the same mess,” she says, her voice low. “But I don’t have time for distractions. If you want to live, you’ll keep up—and stay out of my way.”

Before you can respond, another roar echoes through the ruins. This time, it’s not a cambion. From the shadows emerge a pack of intellect devourers—twisted, grotesque creatures with bulbous heads and razor-sharp claws. Their eyes gleam with malevolent intelligence as they skitter toward you, their movements unnervingly precise.

Shadowheart doesn’t hesitate. She steps forward, her free hand glowing with a faint, silvery light. “Stay behind me,” she snaps, though her tone lacks malice. “And don’t get yourself killed. I’m not carrying your corpse out of here.”

The intellect devourers attack with terrifying speed, but Shadowheart is ready. She mutters an incantation, and a burst of radiant energy erupts from her hand, searing one of the creatures. It screeches, its body writhing as it collapses into a smoldering heap. You seize the opportunity, grabbing a fallen piece of debris and swinging it at another devourer. The impact sends it sprawling, but it’s not enough to finish it off.

Shadowheart is at your side in an instant, her dagger flashing as she drives it into the creature’s skull. “You’re full of surprises,” she says, a hint of grudging respect in her voice. “But don’t get cocky. We’re not out of this yet.”

The remaining devourers regroup, their movements more cautious now. Shadowheart glances at you, her expression unreadable. “We need to move. Now.”

You don’t argue. Together, you retreat into the ruins, the intellect devourers hot on your heels. The wreckage of the Nautiloid looms around you, its twisted metal groaning under the weight of the flames. Shadowheart leads the way, her movements swift and deliberate. She seems to know where she’s going—or at least, she’s good at pretending she does.

As you run, the tadpole in your head stirs again. This time, the connection is stronger. You catch glimpses of Shadowheart’s memories—a dark, moonlit grove; the sound of chanting; a mysterious artifact clutched tightly in her hands. The images are fleeting, but they leave you with more questions than answers.

Finally, you reach a clearing. The intellect devourers hesitate at the edge, their grotesque forms silhouetted against the flames. Shadowheart turns to you, her breathing heavy but steady. “We’ll need to find others,” she says. “Others like us. If we’re going to survive this—if we’re going to find a cure—we can’t do it alone.”

You nod, your gaze drifting to the horizon. The crash site is just the beginning. Somewhere out there, answers await—and perhaps a way to rid yourselves of the parasites. But the road ahead is fraught with danger, and the tadpole in your head is a constant reminder that time is running out.

Shadowheart adjusts the strap of her pack, her expression resolute. “Let’s move,” she says. “And try not to slow me down.”

The two of you move cautiously through the wreckage, the flames casting long shadows across the broken landscape. Shadowheart keeps her distance, her eyes scanning the horizon for threats. But every so often, she glances at you, her expression unreadable.

You decide to break the silence. “So,” you say, your tone light, “do you always rescue strangers from intellect devourers, or am I special?”

She raises an eyebrow, her lips curling into a faint smirk. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’d have done the same for anyone with a pulse. Though I suppose you’re slightly more useful than most.”

You chuckle, undeterred. “Slightly useful? I just helped you take down those things. I’d say I’m at least moderately useful.”

Shadowheart rolls her eyes, but there’s a hint of amusement in her voice. “Moderately useful, then. But don’t let it go to your head. We’ve got bigger problems to worry about.”

You nod, your gaze drifting to the strange artifact she carries. It’s tucked securely in her pack, but you caught a glimpse of it earlier—a sleek, metallic object etched with intricate runes. It radiates an otherworldly energy, and you can’t help but wonder what it’s for.

“That artifact,” you say, gesturing to her pack. “It’s important, isn’t it?”

Her expression hardens, and for a moment, she says nothing. Then, reluctantly, she replies, “It’s… complicated. Let’s just say it’s not something I can afford to lose.”

You sense there’s more to the story, but before you can press further, a sharp cry pierces the air. It’s not the guttural roar of a monster—it’s a voice. A familiar one.

“Tsk’va! Release me at once, you istik filth!”

You exchange a glance with Shadowheart. “That sounds like—”

“The githyanki,” she finishes, her tone wary. “Lae’zel. Come on. Let’s see what trouble she’s gotten herself into.”

You follow the sound, moving quickly but cautiously. The voice grows louder, more frantic. Finally, you reach a small clearing—and there she is. Lae’zel, the fierce githyanki warrior, is trapped in a makeshift cage, her hands bound and her face contorted with rage. Surrounding her are a group of tieflings, their weapons drawn and their expressions tense.

One of the tieflings, a tall woman with crimson skin and curling horns, steps forward. “Stay back!” she warns, her voice trembling slightly. “This creature is dangerous. She attacked us!”

Lae’zel snarls, her golden eyes blazing. “I warned you to release me! When my kin find you, they will tear you apart!”

Shadowheart crosses her arms, her expression unimpressed. “Charming as ever, I see.”



How do you get Lae'zel release?



Use charm and intimidation (shadowheart approves)



You step forward, raising your hands in a placating gesture. “Wait,” you say to the tieflings. “We know her. She’s… well, she’s not exactly friendly, but she’s not your enemy. Not right now, anyway.”

The tiefling woman hesitates, her grip on her weapon tightening. “And why should we trust you?”

Before you can respond, Shadowheart interjects. “Because if you don’t, you’ll have more than just her to deal with.” Her tone is calm but firm, and the tieflings exchange uneasy glances.

Finally, the woman relents. “Fine. But if she causes any trouble, it’s on your heads.”

The tieflings lower their weapons and step back, allowing you to approach the cage. Lae’zel glares at you, her lips curled in a sneer. “About time you showed up. Now get me out of this infernal contraption!”

You work quickly to free her, your fingers fumbling with the lock. As you do, you can’t resist a little teasing. “You know, for someone who’s always talking about strength and honor, you sure end up in a lot of cages.”

Lae’zel’s eyes narrow, and for a moment, you think she might strangle you the second she’s free. But then she smirks, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “And for someone who’s always talking, you’re surprisingly useful. Don’t let it go to your head, istik.”

Once she’s free, Lae’zel brushes herself off and turns to Shadowheart. “You,” she says, her tone accusatory. “What are you doing here?”

Shadowheart meets her gaze evenly. “Saving your life, apparently. You’re welcome.”

Lae’zel snorts but doesn’t argue. Instead, she turns to you. “We need to move. The longer we stay here, the greater the risk of ceremorphosis. We must find a creche—my people will know how to remove these parasites.”

Shadowheart shakes her head. “Your people would sooner kill us than help us. We need to find another way.”

Lae’zel steps closer, her voice low and dangerous. “You doubt the githyanki? You would trust your fate to these… primitives?”

Before the argument can escalate, you step between them. “Enough. We’re all in the same mess. Arguing won’t help us survive.”

For a moment, neither of them speaks. Then Shadowheart sighs. “He’s right. For now, we need to work together. But don’t think for a second that I trust you, gith.”

Lae’zel smirks. “The feeling is mutual, half-elf.”

You suppress a groan. This is going to be a long journey.


You nod, your gaze sweeping the clearing. “Agreed. But we’re not out of the woods yet. We need to find shelter—and fast.”

Shadowheart glances at you, her expression thoughtful. “There’s a temple not far from here. It’s old, but it might offer some protection. And who knows? We might even find answers there.”

Lae’zel crosses her arms, her tone skeptical. “A temple? What good will that do us?”

“It’s better than standing around here arguing,” Shadowheart shoots back. “Unless you have a better idea?”

Lae’zel glares at her but says nothing. You step between them again, holding up your hands. “Enough. We’ll check out the temple. If it’s a dead end, we’ll figure something else out. But for now, we stick together.”

The two women exchange a look, but neither argues. Together, the three of you move out, leaving the wreckage and the tieflings behind. The road ahead is uncertain, but one thing is clear: you’re stronger together than apart.


The party goes to...




Use force (Lae'zel approves)



The tension in the clearing is palpable. The tieflings grip their weapons tightly, their eyes darting between you, Shadowheart, and the furious githyanki trapped in the cage. Lae’zel’s golden eyes burn with rage, and her voice is a low, dangerous growl. “Release me, or I swear I will make you regret it.”

The lead tiefling, the tall woman with crimson skin, steps forward again. “I told you to stay back! This creature is dangerous. She attacked us without provocation!”

You exchange a glance with Shadowheart. She raises an eyebrow, her expression cool and calculating. “Well?” she says quietly. “What’s your plan, hero?”

You take a deep breath, your mind racing. Diplomacy might have worked, but the tieflings are clearly on edge, and Lae’zel isn’t exactly helping the situation. Sometimes, force is the only language people understand.

“We don’t have time for this,” you mutter. Then, louder, you address the tieflings. “Last chance. Let her go, or we’ll take her by force.”

The tiefling woman’s eyes widen in surprise, but she quickly recovers, her grip tightening on her weapon. “You’re making a mistake,” she warns. “This isn’t your fight.”

“It is now,” you say, and before she can react, you move.

You lunge forward, your hand closing around the hilt of a broken sword you’d picked up earlier. Shadowheart is right behind you, her dagger gleaming in the firelight. The tieflings shout in alarm, raising their weapons to defend themselves, but they’re too slow.

You swing the sword in a wide arc, forcing the tieflings to scatter. Shadowheart darts past you, her movements swift and precise. She disarms one of the tieflings with a quick strike, sending their weapon clattering to the ground. Another tiefling lunges at her, but she sidesteps effortlessly, her dagger flashing as she disables them with a non-lethal blow.

Meanwhile, you focus on the cage. The lock is sturdy, but a well-placed strike from your sword shatters it. Lae’zel wastes no time. The moment the door swings open, she bursts out, her bound hands already working to free herself. She snatches a fallen weapon from the ground and turns on the tieflings, her expression fierce.

“You dare cage me?” she snarls, her voice dripping with venom. “You will pay for this insult!”

“Lae’zel, enough!” you shout, stepping between her and the tieflings. “We don’t have time for this. We need to go.”

For a moment, it looks like she might ignore you. But then she hesitates, her eyes narrowing as she considers your words. Finally, she lowers the weapon, though her glare doesn’t soften. “This isn’t over,” she says to the tieflings. “But for now, I have more pressing matters.”

The tieflings, now disarmed and outmatched, retreat into the shadows, their expressions a mix of fear and anger. You don’t have time to worry about them. The sound of more intellect devourers—or worse—could draw attention at any moment.

Shadowheart steps up beside you, her dagger still in hand. “That was… reckless,” she says, though there’s a hint of admiration in her tone. “But effective.”


Lae’zel snorts, brushing herself off. “Reckless or not, it got the job done. Now, if you’re quite finished, we need to move. The longer we stay here, the greater the risk of ceremorphosis.”

You nod, your gaze sweeping the clearing. “Agreed. But we’re not out of the woods yet. We need to find shelter—and fast.”

Shadowheart glances at you, her expression thoughtful. “There’s a temple not far from here. It’s old, but it might offer some protection. And who knows? We might even find answers there.”

Lae’zel crosses her arms, her tone skeptical. “A temple? What good will that do us?”

“It’s better than standing around here arguing,” Shadowheart shoots back. “Unless you have a better idea?”

Lae’zel glares at her but says nothing. You step between them again, holding up your hands. “Enough. We’ll check out the temple. If it’s a dead end, we’ll figure something else out. But for now, we stick together.”

The two women exchange a look, but neither argues. Together, the three of you move out, leaving the wreckage and the tieflings behind. The road ahead is uncertain, but one thing is clear: you’re stronger together than apart.


The party goes to...