Crack scenario 1
This is not written to fit canon I was bored and had a funny thought for a scenario involving my fanfic Baldur’s Gate 3: Nine Lives and One Tadpole.
It's meant to be funny and make you laugh so don't question what happens as like I said not canon to the story or the game really.
I write what I like whether if its canon or not lol.
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The Great Orange Brain Cell Interception
There were many things I had learned since waking up in Faerûn as a cat.
One: people were far more willing to forgive theft if the thief was four-legged, fluffy, and made a pathetic little chirping noise while doing it.
Two: wizards were, in fact, extremely easy to bully before breakfast.
Three: Astarion could say he hated cats all he wanted, but his lap had betrayed him twice now.
Four: Karlach was warm enough to be classified as both companion and campfire.
And five—perhaps the most important lesson of all—
All orange cats shared one brain cell.
I had always known this, of course. It was one of those universal truths, like gravity, death, and the fact that if a person says “don’t touch that,” I will immediately begin plotting how to touch it.
But now?
Now I was an orange cat.
A short, stubby-legged, fluffy, red-orange Scottish fold munchkin cat with the cursed coordination of a dropped potato and a mind flayer tadpole living rent-free behind my eyeball.
Which meant the brain cell had to pass through me eventually.
And by the gods, I was going to intercept it.
I woke before the rest of camp, not because I was responsible, but because the rising sun had hit my face at the exact angle required to activate whatever ancient orange-cat prophecy was stored in my bones.
My eyes snapped open.
My ears flattened.
My pupils went wide enough to frighten lesser men.
Somewhere—far beyond the trees, beyond the river, beyond mortal understanding—I felt it.
A pulse.
A flicker.
A singular thought drifting through the astral currents of all orange feline existence.
The Brain Cell.
It was coming.
I sat upright so fast my own body seemed surprised by it. My stubby little legs kicked at the blanket beneath me. My tail poofed. My whiskers pointed forward like antennae.
Across camp, Gale was still asleep near the ashes of last night’s fire, one arm flung over his face, looking like a man who had not yet been informed he was my breakfast servant.
Shadowheart slept curled beneath her blanket, expression peaceful in a way she would absolutely deny if anyone mentioned it.
Lae’zel was already sitting upright, because apparently githyanki did not sleep so much as temporarily power down in a threatening position.
Astarion was lounging with one eye open, pale and irritated, as if consciousness itself had personally offended him.
Wyll was near his bedroll, probably dreaming heroic dreams.
And Karlach—
Karlach was sleeping on her back, one hand over her chest, her infernal engine giving off that deep, steady heat that made every single one of my cat instincts scream:
**Belly warmer. Now.**
But no.
Not today.
Today I had a mission.
I rose on all four paws.
The Brain Cell was close.
I could feel it.
Unfortunately, my body chose that exact moment to forget how walking worked.
I took one step, stepped on my own front paw, lurched sideways, and rolled clean off the blanket.
A soft *thump* announced my impact with the dirt.
Astarion’s visible eye opened wider.
“Remarkable,” he murmured. “She’s awake for five seconds and already losing to the ground.”
I glared at him from my undignified heap.
At least, I hoped it looked like a glare.
Based on the way his mouth twitched, it probably looked more like a very angry dumpling had been dropped in a wig.
I got to my paws, shook myself violently, and resumed my quest.
The Brain Cell was moving overhead.
I could tell.
Don’t ask how. Orange cat magic was not meant to be understood by mortal scholars. It was raw instinct. Ancient. Powerful. Stupid.
I tilted my head up toward the pale early morning sky.
A bird crossed over camp.
My eyes locked on.
Brain Cell?
No. Bird.
But maybe Brain Cell riding bird?
I crouched.
My haunches wiggled.
The tadpole behind my eye gave the faintest little twitch, like even it had paused to observe my decision-making with concern.
The bird flew over Gale’s tent.
I launched.
For one beautiful second, I was grace itself.
A predator.
A goddess.
A tiny orange missile of destiny.
Then I hit the side of Gale’s pack, bounced off a rolled blanket, knocked over a tin cup, and landed directly on his face.
Gale woke with a strangled noise that was not a word in any language I knew.
“Mmph—! Gods! What—?!”
I stood on his chest with all four paws, staring intensely into his eyes.
He blinked up at me.
I blinked down.
The Brain Cell was near.
Gale had a brain.
Suspicious.
I pressed my forehead against his.
Nothing.
No cosmic wisdom. No divine clarity. No sudden understanding of the Absolute, the tadpoles, or why Astarion smelled like expensive soap and murder.
Just Gale groaning, “Please tell me this is affection and not an assassination attempt.”
I pushed harder.
Maybe the Brain Cell had to transfer through skull contact.
Gale made a small wheezing sound.
“Shadowheart,” he called, voice muffled by fur, “I believe our feline leader is trying to absorb my intellect.”
Shadowheart stirred. “Let her. Maybe she’ll make better choices with it.”
Astarion gave a soft, delighted laugh. “Unlikely. But gods, I would pay to see her try.”
I stepped off Gale’s throat and sat on his chest.
Then, with great dignity, I screamed directly into his face.
“MRAAAAAAAAH.”
Gale stared.
“I see. A compelling argument.”
I screamed again.
“MRAH!”
He slowly lifted a hand and rubbed his eyes. “I don’t speak cat, but I’m beginning to suspect this is about food.”
Foolish wizard.
Small-minded wizard.
Breakfast could wait.
The Brain Cell was getting away.
I jumped off him and sprinted across camp.
Well.
“Sprinted” was perhaps generous.
My legs moved very fast, but because they were approximately the length of campfire kindling, I mostly resembled an angry loaf skittering over the dirt.
Lae’zel watched me pass.
Her yellow-green eyes narrowed.
“What madness possesses the beast?”
Astarion stretched lazily. “The usual kind, I imagine.”
I came to a sudden halt in front of Lae’zel.
The Brain Cell pulsed again.
Githyanki were weird. They had mind powers. They had astral knowledge. They knew things. They probably knew where the Brain Cell was.
I stared at her.
Lae’zel stared back.
I lifted one paw and placed it on her boot.
She looked down at it like I had declared war.
“Remove yourself.”
I did not.
I patted her boot again.
Brain Cell?
She leaned forward. “Do not challenge me, little beast.”
I meowed softly.
Not a normal meow.
A question meow.
A tiny rusty-door-hinge sound that meant: **Do you have the orange wisdom?**
Lae’zel’s expression hardened. “Chk. It speaks nonsense.”
Then I saw it.
A loose strap dangling from her pack.
It moved slightly in the breeze.
Thin.
Wiggly.
Mocking me.
The Brain Cell vanished from my awareness.
There was only Strap.
I pounced.
Lae’zel’s hand shot down. “No.”
Too late.
My teeth were already on it.
Victory.
I grabbed the strap, planted my front paws, and pulled with every ounce of my chubby little body.
Lae’zel’s pack did not move.
I growled.
Lae’zel lifted one brow.
I growled harder.
The pack still did not move.
So I did the only sensible thing.
I flopped onto my side and began bunny-kicking it with my back feet.
Lae’zel stared in silence.
Astarion made a sound that was dangerously close to a giggle.
Karlach woke up.
“Huh? Fight? Fire? Murder?”
She sat bolt upright, saw me attached to Lae’zel’s pack like a feral bath sponge, and immediately broke into the loudest laugh I had ever heard.
“Oh my gods,” Karlach wheezed. “She’s fighting your luggage.”
Lae’zel’s jaw tightened. “She is training poorly.”
I released the strap, sat upright, and looked around with sudden alarm.
The Brain Cell.
I had lost the signal.
No.
No no no.
I spun in place once.
Nothing.
Twice.
Nothing.
Third time—
There.
A shimmer in the air.
Not visible, exactly, but felt. Like a thought trying to land.
It was above me.
Directly above me.
I looked up.
A single leaf drifted down from the tree overhead.
Slowly.
Gracefully.
Suspiciously.
Brain Cell.
Absolutely.
My pupils expanded until the world became leaf-shaped.
The leaf floated left.
I stepped left.
It floated right.
I stepped right.
It dipped.
I rose onto my back legs.
Behind me, Gale had now sat up, hair mussed, robe wrinkled, watching with the weary dread of a man who knew breakfast would not happen until the cat finished whatever religious experience she was having.
The leaf drifted closer.
Closer.
Closer.
I opened my mouth.
And chomped.
I missed.
The leaf landed on my head.
Everyone froze.
I froze too.
Because the moment that leaf touched me, I felt it.
A flash of pure, divine, orange-cat enlightenment.
For one blazing heartbeat, the universe opened.
I understood everything.
The weave.
The tadpole.
The Absolute.
Why Astarion kept pretending not to care.
Why Shadowheart hid softness under sarcasm.
Why Gale made himself useful so no one would notice how afraid he was.
Why Wyll carried guilt like armor.
Why Karlach smiled like every moment was stolen and precious.
Why Lae’zel looked at the stars like they owed her an answer.
I saw it all.
The meaning of life.
The path forward.
The truth of my soul.
The secret to defeating the tadpoles.
The—
Then the leaf slid down my face.
I sneezed.
And everything was gone.
I stared blankly at the dirt.
A long silence passed.
Astarion leaned forward slightly.
“Well?”
I blinked.
He smirked. “Did enlightenment hurt?”
I opened my mouth.
“Brrrp?”
Gale lowered his face into his hands.
“Mystra preserve me, shes gonna drive me insane”
I panicked.
I had it.
I had the Brain Cell.
I had touched the divine orange thread of knowledge, and then I had sneezed it out like an idiot.
I whipped around, searching wildly.
Where did it go?
Where did it go?
Karlach was wiping tears from her eyes. “Soldier, what are you doing?”
I looked at Karlach.
Her engine glowed faintly in her chest.
Warm. Bright. Humming.
A thought struck me with the force of a thrown brick.
Brain Cell liked warmth.
Orange cats liked warmth.
Therefore Brain Cell might be attracted to Karlach.
Genius.
I charged.
Karlach barely had time to go, “Oh—!” before I launched myself at her.
This time, I made it.
Mostly.
I landed on her stomach, slid up her chest because of momentum, planted my paws on either side of her face, and stared into her eyes with manic intensity.
Karlach blinked.
“Uh. Good morning?”
I headbutted her forehead.
Hard.
“Oof.” She laughed. “Alright, hello to you too.”
I headbutted her again.
Maybe if Gale did not have it, Karlach did. She was orange-red. I was orange-red. Her chest had a flaming engine. My head had one shared brain cell trying to find the landing strip.
There had to be a connection.
I pressed my entire face against her cheek.
Nothing.
I climbed onto her shoulder.
Nothing.
I shoved my head into the curve of one of her horns.
Nothing.
Then the heat of her body hit me properly.
And for a moment, the mission faded.
Because Karlach was warm.
So warm.
Perfectly warm.
My eyes narrowed.
My paws relaxed.
My body melted against her collarbone.
Karlach’s hands came up automatically, gentle and careful despite their size. “Aw, poor little thing. Big thoughts tired you out?”
I was not tired.
I was hunting a celestial brain particle.
But her chest was rumbling, her engine thudding, and her skin was like a heated blanket gifted by the gods.
I began to purr.
Against my will.
Loudly.
Betrayal.
Astarion clicked his tongue. “There it is. The fearsome warrior falls to the first available furnace.”
Shadowheart sat up, rubbing sleep from her eyes. “Did we ever decide whether she’s cursed, possessed, or just like this?”
“She is an animal,” Lae’zel said flatly. “This is expected.”
Gale gave me a tired look. “I resent that. Tara is an animal, and she has never once tried to extract my thoughts through forehead pressure.”
I lifted my head sharply.
Tara?
No.
No Tara yet.
Different cat.
Future problem.
I returned to my search.
The Brain Cell had not landed in Karlach.
Maybe it was bouncing.
I needed height.
Everyone knew important transmissions were easier to catch from high places. Birds perched high. Wizards had towers. Gods lived in the sky. Astarion’s ego was somewhere in the upper atmosphere.
I needed a tower.
My gaze slid across camp.
Astarion.
Tall enough.
Pretentious enough.
Likely empty-headed at the exact right frequency.
I sprang off Karlach with renewed purpose.
Karlach made a mournful sound. “Hey! Come back, I wasn’t done being chosen!”
I scampered toward Astarion.
He immediately held up one hand.
“No. Absolutely not.”
I continued.
“I know that look.”
I sped up.
“That is the look of a creature about to make me regret existing.”
He tried to lean away.
Too late.
I jumped onto his bedroll, bounced off his thigh, dug claws into his shirt, and began climbing.
Astarion hissed.
Actually hissed.
Like a cat.
I paused halfway up his chest and stared at him.
He stared back, offended.
“Do not look at me like that. You started it.”
I climbed higher.
“Careful,” Gale called helpfully. “She’s trying to reach a higher plane of stupidity.”
“Thank you, Gale,” Astarion snapped. “Your scholarly insight is invaluable.”
I reached his shoulder, wobbled dangerously, and planted myself there.
Perfect.
I was tall now.
Practically enormous.
A giant among cats.
A god.
I lifted one paw toward the sky.
Brain Cell, come to me.
Astarion went still. “Why is she doing that?”
Shadowheart squinted. “Praying?”
“To who?” Wyll asked, now awake and looking deeply confused.
I stretched higher, paw open, claws slightly out, eyes locked on the empty air.
Karlach whispered, delighted, “I think she’s trying to catch something.”
Gale’s voice became very serious. “Has anyone considered the tadpole might be influencing her behavior?”
Everyone went quiet.
I slowly turned my head toward him.
He was right.
The tadpole.
The disgusting little worm in my skull.
The uninvited brain slug.
What if the Brain Cell sensed the tadpole and refused to land because my head was already occupied?
Rage filled me.
Not ordinary rage.
Orange cat rage.
I flattened my ears, opened my mouth, and screamed at my own skull.
“MRAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”
Astarion flinched so hard I nearly fell off his shoulder.
“Gods below! Warn me before you do that!”
I slapped a paw over my own forehead.
Come out, worm.
Brain Cell needs parking.
The tadpole twitched.
The world tilted.
For a split second, my mind brushed against the others through that horrible little psychic thread we all shared. Not words. Not speech. Just a burst of pure emotion, image, and nonsense.
What they received was probably something like:
**LEAF. SUNBEAM. EMPTY HEAD. NEED BRAIN. WORM BAD. KARLACH WARM. ASTARION TALL. GALE FOOD. LAE’ZEL STRONG. SHADOWHEART JUDGMENT. WYLL NICE. BRAIN CELL COMING. MUST CATCH.**
Every companion reacted at once.
Gale went pale. “Oh. Oh dear.”
Shadowheart stared at me. “Did she just send us a… thought?”
Wyll blinked. “I think I saw a leaf.”
Karlach gasped. “I was in there!”
Astarion slowly turned his head toward me, eyes narrowed. “Did you just call me tall?”
I licked his ear.
He made a sound of absolute betrayal.
Lae’zel stood. “The creature’s mind is chaos.”
I puffed up proudly.
Yes.
Yes it was.
But the psychic burst had done something.
The signal came back.
The Brain Cell was near.
Closer than ever.
It had heard me.
It was descending.
The camp fell still as I stared upward from Astarion’s shoulder.
A breeze moved through the trees.
The fire snapped softly.
A faint golden mote drifted through a slant of morning sunlight.
It was probably dust.
But I knew better.
It glimmered.
It floated.
It came right toward me.
The Brain Cell.
At last.
My entire body vibrated.
Astarion whispered, “I don’t like this.”
The golden speck drifted closer.
Closer.
Closer.
I opened my mouth.
Gale lunged halfway forward. “Don’t eat it!”
I ate it.
Everyone screamed.
Not because anything bad happened.
Mostly because I immediately launched myself off Astarion’s shoulder with no plan whatsoever.
I hit the ground, rolled, popped upright, and stood perfectly still.
My eyes widened.
The Brain Cell had landed.
I had it.
I had the one orange cat brain cell.
The universe settled.
My mind cleared.
For the first time since becoming a cat, I knew exactly what to do.
Everyone watched me with breathless concern.
Shadowheart whispered, “What is she doing?”
Gale leaned forward. “I think… she’s thinking.”
Lae’zel’s hand hovered near her weapon. “Dangerous.”
Karlach clasped her hands together. “Come on, soldier. Show us what you’ve got.”
I turned slowly.
With great dignity, I walked across camp.
I approached Gale’s pack.
I nosed it open.
Gale frowned. “That’s my—”
I reached inside with one paw.
Everyone leaned in.
This was it.
The great revelation.
The grand strategy.
The answer to everything.
I pulled out a dried fish.
Then I ran.
Gale shouted, “That was for later!”
Astarion burst out laughing.
Karlach cheered like I had slain a dragon. “YES! THAT’S MY GIRL!”
Shadowheart sighed. “Of course. The divine wisdom was theft.”
Wyll laughed despite himself. “Efficient theft, at least.”
Lae’zel crossed her arms. “She used her moment of clarity for rations.”
I scrambled beneath a bush with my prize clamped in my teeth, growling triumphantly.
The Brain Cell pulsed once inside my skull.
A single perfect thought formed.
**Fish good.**
Then it left.
Just like that.
Gone.
Passed on to the next orange cat somewhere in the multiverse who needed to make one halfway decent decision before returning to a life of chaos and licking furniture.
I stared after it, spiritually.
Then I looked down at the fish.
I had no regrets.
Outside the bush, Gale was still lamenting his stolen breakfast. Karlach was defending me with the passion of a woman advocating for a war hero. Astarion was making cruelly accurate commentary. Shadowheart was pretending not to smile. Wyll was trying to negotiate the fish back. Lae’zel was declaring that if I wanted food, I should hunt it with honor.
I ignored all of them.
I had intercepted the Brain Cell.
I had used it wisely.
And then, because the gods demanded balance, I immediately forgot how to back out of the bush and got stuck.
My rear half remained visible to the entire camp.
My tail lashed.
My paws scrabbled.
Leaves shook violently.
Astarion’s voice drifted over, dry as old bones.
“Ah. The intellect has departed.”
Karlach howled.
Gale sighed.
Shadowheart muttered, “Our fearless leader.”
And me?
I kept chewing the fish.
Because sometimes destiny tasted like stolen breakfast.
