He gets spat out of the pod just as that happens. Right onto the fleshy, gunky floor.

And he's naked.

Great. Amazing. Awesome. At least he didn't fall into the disgusting little pool with the disgusting little tadpoles in it.

Anyway, he'll make his way to his feet, then, and... look around. He supposes.

Now that the not-glass of the pod is no longer obscuring his vision he can make out... a right mess. Even outside the fire that damaged a good chunk of the room, there are corpses of two mind flayers on the floor, not looking like they died of the fire at all. They had probably already been there when Astarion got kidnapped. And the two other pods were a bit too close to the fire when the fire happened and the people inside them appear to have been, ah. Cooked.

Once again he is very thankful for not having a normal digestive system anymore because that is revolting.

Okay! What next, then?

He spends a moment considering the idea of checking the illithid's bodies for valuables before discarding it. The chance of there being some sort of trap is too high, he doesn't want a second tadpole in his brain thank you kindly. Onwards through the ex-asshole, then, careful not to step on the still-blazing bits of floor because he continues to be a vampire and extra flammable no matter how many little parasites he is now the host for.

The next room has some more dead mindflayers but most importantly the corridor beyond it is entirely exposed to the elements as apparently it ran along an outer wall of the ship's that has been destroyed. And what he can see beyond are many red dragons, the kind the githyanki like to ride, and, uh.

...uh.

The fires of Avernus.

Kidnapped by mind flayers and then sent to Hell! He kind of thinks that he should be cursing Tymora, here, there is just no way she isn't laughing her ass off at him. That'll teach him to think things even remotely flavoured "it couldn't get any worse". It could always get worse. You could always go to Hell.

And fuck him, that exposed hallway is probably where he has to go next because (after some exploration of the room he determines that) there is nowhere else to go.

Fuuuuuck him.

But just as he's stepping out the githyanki jumps out of nowhere in front of him, sword in hand. "Abomination. This is your end!"

"—no! Enough things, that is too many things!!!!"

The woman tenses up to move to drive her sword through Astarion and—

Astarion doubles over in pain, a pain mimicked by the githyanki woman. His head pulsates in pain, and he gets pins and needles all over his skin. And while that's happening, he can see, see...

- a dragon's wing -

        - a silver sword -

    - a mindflayer's dead body -

- his own face, through the eyes of the stranger -

And then he's back, still on the ship, still in Avernus, reeling from seeing—his face—no mirror, no screen, he hasn't seen his own face in centuries, and the first thing that comes out of his mouth is—

"I look disgusting and I need a bath."

"Tsk'va. You're no thrall?" says the other, recovering at the same time as he did. "Vlaakith blesses me this day! Together we may survive." She unsheathed a knife from her belt and offers it to Astarion, hilt-first. "Can you use a blade?"

"...yes but back the fuck up why were you just trying to kill me???" The sword isn't actually silver so it wouldn't have worked but it's the principle of the thing.

"We carry ghaik parasites in our brains, you and I. Somehow we resist their powers now, though I do not know how. But unless we escape—unless we are cleansed—we will become ghaik, ourselves."

"...oh that's wonderful. We have parasites that will turn us into mind flayers?" He accepts the knife and spits on the floor. "Tymora mocks me. What do we do?"

She points in the direction of the only room they can go to. "Find the ship's helm and take control of it. Kill any infernals we run into. Now move." And off she goes.

"—right, then. Pleasure to meet you, too." He follows after her, half trying to commit his own visage to memory half trying to not think about how he is entirely covered in mind flayer gunk. And it's only going to get worse from here.

There are infernals up ahead, but only weak ones: small flying imps, the lowest of the low, feasting on the corpses of... thralls? Other non-mind flayers, at least, scattered around that room.

Well he sure hopes they're level one imps because he will almost certainly fail to do anything about anyone stronger than that.

The githyanki herself is clearly higher level than that, given the ease with which she tears through them.

Good, good, good for heeeeey that imp was about to sucker stab her and now it is not. If there is one thing Astarion can do well it is scurry around in shadows and take people unawares and this imp should know better than to try to copy his style.

She whirls around to see the corpse of the imp falling lifelessly on the floor at Astarion's hands and makes a pleased hmming sound. "Surprisingly adequate. Come."

"H-hold on, let me steal some pants—"

"We do not have time for you to undress the dead for your sense of propriety. Come." And she goes.