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Of course it would end this way.
The greatest mistake of his life. Abandoned by his goddess. Cast out of her domain. Stripped of his powers. Resigned to years of isolation and research to figure out a sustainable means of feeding the orb. Fearing not only that each day would be his last, but that his condition would rob the lives of countless innocents in its wake of destruction. All of his misfortune, only to find himself trapped in the pod of a mind flayer ship. A perfectly cruel ending for Gale of Waterdeep.
In hindsight, Gale shouldn't have expected anything less, nor deigned to hope for anything more.
A Nautiloid, the ship was called. With rumors of a mind flayer sighting spreading to Waterdeep, he'd read plenty of volumes on the history of such creatures. There were very few subjects Gale hadn't read about, given that there wasn't much else to do during his isolation aside from taking care of Tara, or making sure the warding runes surrounding his tower held steady. Perhaps the one silver lining of the whole ordeal, was that Tara wouldn't bear witness to his final moments. He knew she'd be disappointed in him. Moreso than she already was after witnessing his downfall to becoming Mystra's former chosen. When Tara wasn't out searching for magical artifacts for him, she hardly ever left his side. He knew it would be quite the task to convince her to leave him behind if he ever lost control of the orb. Gale was grateful to know that whatever became of him, his oldest friend would be kept safe. He always knew his untimely death was one he needed to face alone.
Well, he wasn't quite alone, yet still far from the company of others.
Gale wasn't the only one abducted. Dozens, if not hundreds of pods lined the fleshy walls of the ship. Most contained other individuals like himself, dazed and weakened from the tadpole's intrusion, awaiting Ceramorphosis. Others contained newborn mind flayers, soulless, tentacled husks of their former selves. He hadn't quite worked out exactly what would happen to the orb if he were to undergo the same transformation. If he got lucky, and the ship was high enough above civilization when the orb finally erupted, the only casualties would be the wretched illithids that took him.
Another tremor shook the ship. Too strong to be simple air turbulence, but it wasn't until he heard the distinct roar of a dragon that he figured out why. The lingering scent of sulfur in the air suggested they might have traveled to the hells, but his suspicions were soon confirmed when a large hole ripped into the wall of the ship, exposing the rocky, desolate wasteland below. Avernus, if Gale's memory served him. Trapped by his limited field of view, Gale peered down to check the structural integrity of the room below. He spotted a group of tieflings, elves, and even a githyanki rushing into the room, all brandishing swords or crossbows.
Was the ship being raided? Were they being rescued, perhaps?
The group stared in horror at the wall of pods. Gale watched as a blue-haired tiefling stared directly at his pod for the briefest moment. He knew they'd never be able to hear him at such a distance- especially not with several dragons swarming the ship- but that didn't stop him from pounding a fist against the glass in the hope of somehow escaping.
If they were all taken as well, that would mean they escaped. And if they did escape, it meant there was a chance for Gale to make it out of the pod alive.
If they weren't giving up, then neither could he.
As soon as the group returned to the room they came from, Gale began wracking his worm-infused brain for any potential solutions. He looked for any buttons or latches that might open the door, and found a small panel that looked promising. Conjuring up a mage hand just outside the pod, Gale maneuvered it towards the panel of fleshy buttons. He hesitated before pressing anything, remembering that any one of those buttons could trigger his ceremorphosis in an instant.
Another tremor, another dragon's roar. Gale's eyes snapped back to the hole in the ship, which seemed to be getting bigger by the second. Before he knew what was happening, a dragon poked its head inside, and the pods lined along the wall were engulfed in flames.
The blaze wasn't enough to open the door, but a few swift kicks to the glass proved useful in shattering the barrier between Gale and the rest of the ship. The jump down would surely break a few bones, but there was no time to cast a spell to cushion his fall when the air pressure sucked him through the hole, and right into freefall.
The one saving grace of plummeting towards certain death was the slight relief Gale felt about the ship crashing in Faerûn, rather than the hells. He turned away from the shrinking ship, focusing his attention on the rapidly approaching ground below.
When Gale spied the magical glimmer of a transportation rune, he expected that a mere weaving of words would make his journey towards the ground a much smoother transition. In his haste to avoid a rather violent impact, he briefly forgot about the tadpole's hinderance to whatever magic the orb hadn't already taken from him. What was meant to be a comfortable landing on the other side of the portal turned into finding himself trapped in the inky blackness of the space between realms.
Suppressing his rising panic, he began frantically casting the spell again to re-open the portal, but once it formed, he found himself unable to move towards it. Every movement took an increasing amount of effort, and nothing seemed to propel Gale any closer to the unstable opening.
He was stuck.
Gale wasn't sure exactly how long he remained suspended between realms, but before he could settle back into the resignation he felt on the Nautiloid, his tadpole began to squirm in recognition. Something, or hopefully someone, was on the other side.
Summoning every bit of strength he had left, Gale thrust his arm through the portal.
"A hand?" he shouted, a bit frantically. "Anyone?"
Thankfully, it didn't take long to convince the stranger to offer their help. A wave of relief washed over him as the magic holding him in place began to wane. Another spellcaster, thank the gods.
The stranger grabbed him by the wrist and began to pull. As if the portal decided it was suddenly finished with him, Gale flew back out into Faerûn, landing in the dirt with significantly less force than the initial fall would have inflicted.
Gale stumbled to his feet, dusting off his robes before looking up to greet his savior.
It didn't take a tadpole connection for him to recognize the tiefling from the ship. As if he could forget the unusual combination of cobalt hair and emerald skin. Gale hadn't met many tieflings, but he never expected them to have such human-looking eyes. Instead of an infernal gaze of glowing red or gold, he stared into slate grey irises, almost matching the color of her horns, which curved up and behind her head like a broken halo.
Utterly grateful to be alive, Gale could have been face-to-face with another mind-flayer and still thanked it for its assistance.
"Hello. I'm Gale, of Waterdeep. Apologies," he grinned, reaching out for a proper handshake. "I'm usually better at this."