Chpt 15. Skipping Stones
TRIGGER WARNING: Cold Blooded Murder? Curse words.
There are two ways to handle a bleeding heart. Either patch the wound or kill the patient, it all depends on how deep the hurt is.
"You should apologize to her. I can't believe you made her jump like that, did you see the look on her face?"
"Why does it bother you? I can summon her again when we need her."
Bex wrinkles her nose, irritated and edged with confusion at my callousness. I don't dare let on just how much watching the hope leave Shovel's eyes fed me.
"Why does it not bother you? Honestly, is your head broken?"
I look at her, stunned. I didn't realize I was so transparent.
She tugs on my sleeve. "Bring her back right now, Vash."
This whole situation is making me feel uncomfortable. I abruptly stop, and Astarion bumps into me.
He grunts, frustrated. "Do you mind? I was walking." He quickly side-steps me and continues with Shadowheart down the path.
Shadowheart glances back at me, shaking her head. "Apologize to your familiar, Vash."
A low voice comes from Astarion as he turns to Shadowheart. "You know, I've never met a quasit. What a strange thing to find in a musty cellar."
They both carry on down the path, and I turn back to Bex. She folds her arms, waiting. I swiftly pull from the weave, wanting to be done with this. I chant the incantation, and Shovel blips back into our plane.
She lands cleanly on her feet. She sees me standing in front of her and immediately begins jumping and screaming. "YAAAYYY!!! What will we be doing today, Master... Master..." She stops, her tail twitching. "Who is you?"
"Vash Neel."
I see the gears turning in her head. "...Master Neely!!!"
Bex snorts, nudging me. "Of course she'd Neel-ify you. I'm sure it's leagues easier for her to say with her... mouth?" She finally gestures toward Shovel. "Go on."
My nostrils flare and I kneel to the quasit's level. "I brought you back to apologize for making you jump into that booby trap."
Shovel is scratching behind her ear, and a butterfly catches her eye as it floats past. She snatches it from the air and bites into its crunchy body, before tossing the wings onto the ground. "Hm? Oh, Master Ily's done much worse to me. So, who are we digging up? I smell death-meat." She quickly looks around, her voice filled with mischief and delight, ready to throw herself into today's adventure.
Satisfying to see that she's no worse for wear. It seems I've skirted a travesty with my bad behavior. I look over to Bex. "She's sturdy." And turn back down to Shovel. "No grave digging today, Shovel. I'm afraid we're on a much less interesting adventure. Come on, you can ride on my shoulder."
Shovel snorts in disappointment but quickly climbs up my arm. As she gets to my head, she grabs my horns, one foot on each shoulder. "Master's got handles!" I stand and Shovel screams with glee. "Onward, Master Neely!!!" I feel her bouncing with excitement.
Can't say this is how I expected today to go. I have a quasit on my head.
Bex giggles. At least I can make the ladies happy.
I feel Shovel shifting on my shoulders. She's sniffing the air, and I feel her body being grounded by the balance her tail provides. I decide to break the silence. "What happened to Ilyn Toth? Why did you leave Thay to come all the way out here?"
Shovel is lost in thought but finally answers. "Master Illy was proud to be a Red Wizard. Studied hard, Shovel always helped. Always! But he got distracted. Lost in a lady. Loved her. Stopped calling on Shovel as much. Shovel was stuck in the hells like before being summoned." She hesitates, scratching her ear again, like a nervous tic. "Then lady was gone! Illy called on Shovel again, wanting to bring her back—truly back, for real, not a zombie or a thrall. Promised Shovel a permanent home in Thay for help. Shovel helped steal the spooky book. Red Wizards got angry and tried to kill Master Illy. Shovel led Illy to stinking sewers. We escaped!" Shovel stomps her feet on my shoulders, reliving the moment in her tiny mind. "We walked days and days. Made it to Moonhaven! Illy hid red robes, tattoos; became a healer for the village. Never stopped trying to bring her back. Book was madness and wouldn't give up secrets. Then Master Illy died, cut down by Dark Just Jish-jishar. It was apprentice's fault. Apprentice snitched. Shovel tried to warn Illy, but it was too late."
Bex puts a hand on her heart. "That's so sad! All that effort to bring back someone he loved, only to be struck down like that. What a waste." She looks genuinely saddened by the tale.
I mutter, "Dark Just… Jish-jishar?" If what Shovel's saying is true, then she's quite a talented little creature. Stealing books, smuggling wizards, helping with his experiments, all to be out of hell.
I feel her claws drag across my horns as she continues to keep her grip. "Yep! Soldiers on horses. Dark armor. Helmets with wings. Like bat wings. Purple disk on their chests."
My lips straighten. "Dark Justiciar."
Shadowheart had slowed at that and was now walking next to Bex and me. "Dark Justiciar," she repeats. "What were they doing in the village?"
Shovel is excited to share. "First, came to conquer Moonhaven. Led by a man, smelled like old socks and broken oaths. Angry. Scary. General Thorn."
Shadowheart and I look at each other, wide-eyed. "...General Thorm?"
She's bouncing again, "Yeah, yeah! Him! Ugly fucker." Shovel's ears perk and she swiftly races off my shoulders to chase after something moving in some tall grass nearby.
Shadowheart furrows her brow and looks over at Bex and back to me, "Hells... How did he go from a General of Shar, to Chosen of the Absolute? What a curious man, and an enemy of Shar."
Bex scoffs, "Jumping from one evil god to the next. Dropping Shar is a mark toward his merit in the very least." She shudders.
Shadowheart bites her lip, and I gently put a hand on her back. She's not offended; she's concerned.
I'm suddenly interrupted by a familiar sensation, and I pause on the trail. "Astarion, come here."
He stops and looks back. Seeing the look on my face, he quickly shuffles back to us, brow knitted with concern. "What is it?"
I address the party, my senses tingling. "Keep your eyes open. There's something off about this place. I can't get a handle on what it is, but I sense a touch of the feywild."
Bex's ears perk at this. "Feywild. Like what you felt with Auntie Ethel?"
"Exactly. We're heading toward her Tea House, this can't be a coincidence."
Astarion looks around. We're in a verdant marshland, beaming sunlight filtering through green leaves. The path is lined with blossoms of many colors, and we hear the calming titter of frogs on the banks of the water. A dragonfly lands, self-assured, on Astarion's sleeve. He immediately gasps and flicks his arm, causing it to take flight. "Gods! That damned thing better not have been cursed!"
He hugs his arms and hunches, guarded, head on a swivel. I slide my cloak off and try to place it on him, but he sticks out his arm blocking me. "Please! I appreciate what you're trying to do, but that thing reeks to high heavens. It has for a while. Are you in the habit of keeping rotting meat in your pockets? How have you not noticed? Or do you like it…?" Astarion eyes me and gags slightly.
I put my cloak back on and suddenly realize… the halfling meat. "Fuck!" I pull it out and throw it as far across the river as I can. The scent seems to trail it as it flies through the air.
Shovel run from the tall grass to the bank, arms outstretched. "Aaawwww... Shovel could have eaten that." I've never seen a more disappointed Quasit.
Astarion grips his nose tightly. "GOOD GODS! What in the hells was that!?"
Bex begins coughing, holding her hand up to her mouth. "Well, that explains the smell. That is far more pungent out in the open."
"It was just some game I hunted a few days ago. I didn't mean to forget it, I'm not sure how I didn't notice the smell. Apologies." My heart mourns the loss of the meal.
He waves his hand in front of his face dramatically. "Well at least it's gone now… Tymora’s Tits." Then he pauses. "Did you say it was game meat?"
"Yes? What's wrong with that?" I'm startled he's digging into my assertion.
Astarion's eyes narrow. He quietly and discreetly taps his nose. "I think we need to have a discussion later."
I stare down at him, my eyes flat. "No. We don't."
Bex is suddenly alert and moves in front of us. "Someone's coming."
We see a plain figure making its way towards us, on the trail. A human man dressed in light armor over a modest tunic and breeches. His hair is ginger, long but braided in a tribal manner and he has a well-groomed beard. A handsome fellow. He spots us before we get a chance to react, "Hi-ho, strangers! What brings you to these wilds?"
I watch him approach and step up behind Bex, putting my hands on her shoulders. "I could ask you the same." I feel Bex glance up at me, putting her hand over mine.
The man laughs. "Don't tell me you've come to bargain with the hag as well?"
Our eyes go wide, Bex and I look at each other. "Not at this time, we're on the trail of something else."
The man hesitates and measures us. "I see."
Astarion leans in. "Excuse me, aren't you a Gur?"
Shadowheart nudges him, "Don't be rude."
The man sweeps his hand, brushing off Shadowheart's defensiveness. "Your friend is spot on."
I look at them obliviously. "I'm sorry, what is a Gur?"
The man tilts his chin up with a zealous pride that reminds me of Lae'zel. "We are monster hunters. A lot of superstitions surround my people. We're assumed to be a tribe of thugs and magicians, but I assure you I am merely on the hunt. Call me Gandrel. I have no quarrel with you, once I find my prey, I will be returning to Baldur's Gate."
At that, my interest is piqued. "If there is something dangerous prowling these lands, I need to know if I want to keep my party safe."
His composure shifts from pride to caution. "I don't want to startle you. My quarry is particularly dangerous. As long as you have safe refuge at night, it shouldn't be a concern for you."
I laugh. "Sir, if you were trying to dissuade me of my curiosity, your words have only stoked the fire." I gently grip Bex's shoulders. "If you were truly concerned for our safety, you'd tell us exactly what to prepare for."
His lips tighten. "You're right, perhaps you've already had an encounter, and can help me find him."
My tail flicks and my eyes narrow. "Him?"
Gandrel divulges his mission with a grave tone. "I am on the trail of a Vampire Spawn. His name is Astarion. Though he seems to have gone to ground, rest assured I will find him. I always do."
Astarion takes a sharp breath in, and I feel him tense like a well coiled spring.
I keep my eyes on Gandrel, nodding along with his words. I send a quick psionic pulse to Astarion, the first time I've dared touch his wretched brain since our unfortunate meeting. "Hold."
I get a barrage in response. "Hold?! This man is going to stop at nothing to capture me! I'm not going to let him take me back, not when I'm finally free. If I have to choose between the Gur and death, I'd happily cut my way through each and every one of you until you strike me down."
I give an exasperated sigh. "You're so gods-damned dramatic." Gently, I move Bex to the side. My greatsword freed from its sheath, I gestured down the path with my gleaming blade—sharp, heavy, and well oiled. "Go back to where you came from, my friend. The spawn is mine."
Gandrel bristles at my threat. "Cazador sent you to collect him too? I thought I was the only one."
I shake my head, a foul grin splitting my face. "You misunderstand. He is under my protection. You're not going to lay a finger on him." My voice hisses low with a threatening fervor. "Leave, Gandrel."
His face tightens as he readies his crossbow. "Of course he would seduce a self-righteous paladin. You're going to tell me where he's hiding. You don't understand the danger you're in!"
I raise my greatsword, my heart tainted red with a familiar lust for blood. "There's nothing more valuable than dangerous friends." I take a step forward and he instantly shoots, hitting me square in the chest. I fall backward with a growl, the arrow snagging on my ribs. I sit up and snap the fletching off, readying myself to attack again, but like a cornered rat, Astarion charges, burying his daggers deep into Gandrel's chest. The broken wheeze that escapes him is the epitaph to his meager life. Humans are so fragile. It's sad. I pity him.
I feel Bex tense as the monster hunter falls. She looks at Astarion, startled and speechless.
He stands over the man's body, face twisted into pure hate. He calmly licks his daggers clean and sighs wistfully, as if it were pacifying his angst.
Shadowheart kneels next to me and helps pull the arrow out of my chest, before healing me. I look up at her gratefully and grasp her hand in a small thank you. As I get to my feet, Gandrel begins to shake and foam at the mouth; his lungs are filling with blood. The horrified look on Bex's face reminds me that she is still very green. "Oh! Apologies." I pull my dagger out and quickly puncture a hole in his neck to allow him to die faster. "I know the process of watching a man die can be hard if you're not used to it."
Gandrel quickly goes pale and falls still as blood surges from his neck and pools around him.
Bex is gripping her hands, her face twisted into a mixture of fear and concern. Shadowheart puts a hand on her back, soft and comforting. "It gets easier."
Bex quickly responds, with a voice that's a little too loud and measured. "Does it?" She then looks up at Astarion. "So, you're the spawn?"
He sheaths his daggers, "I suppose you were going to find out eventually." He glances over at her. "Don't hold it against me, Darling, it's been a rough couple of days."
I bend down and pull Gandrel's crossbow from his grasp and hand it to Bex. She takes it and looks at it, not comforted in any way. "I would have given anything for a crossbow like this… but I'm not sure it was worth it."
I walk up to her, hearing the sadness in her voice. The deflated woman in front of me mirrors her broken heart. "Do you…" I pause, considering my words carefully. "I know moments like this are hard, and I'm truly sorry you had to witness this, but sometimes tough decisions need to be made." She's staring down, eyes locked in place, lost in thought. "...Would you like a hug?"
She slowly looks up at me. "I can manage my own feelings. Thank you."
"I have little doubt." I look at her knowingly and give her a warm smile, then hold out my arms.
Hesitant at first, she sets down the crossbow, as if she only just realized she's entitled to comfort. She steps into me, wrapping her arms around me, taking a deep, self-soothing breath. She buries her face in my chest and takes another heavy sigh. There is a war raging in her mind that I'm not privy to. "If you ever want to talk, we'll be here for you." I feel her nod, as she grips the back of my tunic, her tail swaying slowly, thoughtfully. After a moment, she collects herself and pulls away. She picks up the crossbow and finally lashes it to her back.
In that moment, Shovel scurries up, soaking wet, rotten halfling meat clamped possessively in her little jaws. Seeing Gandrel dead on the ground, she pulls the meat from her mouth and cries, "AUUUUUGGGGHHHH!! Shovel always misses the fun!!!"
I snort, amused by her shenanigans. "Next time I'll be sure you're around."
"YAY! Master Neely is kind! Make sure Shovel doesn't miss!" She happily rips a bite from her well-won meal.
"Let's head out. I think we're done here."
Bex wraps her arm around me as we walk. I lay my arm across her shoulders in comfort, then glance at Astarion. "So, do you know this Cazador?"
He nods gravely, his voice uncharacteristically solemn. "Yes. He's my... was my master."
Something to note, if I'm going to be keeping a spawn in my party. "Did you know he was going to send people after you?"
He's lost in thought, a fog of anger and frustration filling the air between us. He's not angry with me, he's angry with his predicament. "I had no idea. I honestly didn't think I was important enough for a man hunt. I'm flattered, honestly."
"Do you think more will come?"
Astarion scoffs, "If they don't, I'd be surprised. Cazador has countless people in his thrall. Not just spawn, he also has deluded hopefuls that will do anything for him. I just wonder why he wants me so bad. I mean, why does it matter? Why not just kill me?"
I look ahead and think, "I'm not loving the idea of your past chasing us."
His head jerks, snapping at me, his feelings finally boiling over. "I'm not exactly thrilled about it either, you know! Is this going to be the thing that finally gets me kicked out?"
The laugh that escapes me is admittedly cocky, but appropriately confident. "Please, we can handle them; that's not the issue, but this is becoming bigger than what I anticipated. Monster Hunters, Vampire Spawn, Cazador. It's all waiting for you in Baldur's Gate. When we get there, what are you planning on doing about it?"
Astarion looks at me, shocked. "We?"
I look at Bex and Shadowheart, then back to him. "Yes? That's where we're going, right?"
He remains silent, but he's looking up at me, holding back on what he truly wants to say. As we round the bend, we see a willow tree across the water, big enough to make a druid cum.
Bex gasps. "I think we found it..."
The banks are edged with meandering docks, and as we step onto them, we see the willow is planted on a small island. It's not far from where we stand, but we're separated by treacherous waters. "Let's split up and see if we can find a safe way across. Bex and I will go east, Astarion, Shadowheart, you two keep going west. Yell if you find anything."
As Bex and I walk the docks, we find what must have been the old crossing. The dock has eroded and collapsed. The only thing that remains is a trail of heavy stones just below the surface. She glances around, seeing the issue in an instant. "Shallow water can be deceptively deadly. If you want, I can hop across and check it out. If I don't find anything I'll let you know. No need in risking you getting swept away with all that gear you lug around." She looks me up and down, "Though that cloak could use a wash. I have half a mind just to push you in."
I give her a playful snort, "I promise I'll wash the damned thing tonight." I look across the water. Her plan is solid, I wouldn't expect anything less from her at this point. "Be my guest. I'll keep watch, just whistle if you need me."
Her face is bright with excitement, and she scans the stones to map the path forward to the willow. Quick and nimble she hops across with ease and makes it to the muddy banks on the other side. I watch her scan the area, gathering her senses and finally walking up to the tree. Silently, I see something rising from the mud behind her. I know I should be alarmed, but it's almost like my mind is confused about what it's seeing. I focus on it and it shifts from a simple amorphous mud blob to a winged ghoul. A mud mephit. "BEX!"
As she turns, the thing flings mud directly in her face.
"Shovel!" The quasit had been following dutifully, but at my call, she quickly climbs onto my shoulder. I dash across the river stones, but feel one shift beneath my weight, throwing me down. I'm caught only by the larger stones sunken steadfast into the riverbed. Shovel is launched into the water and begins flailing as she's dragged away, but she manages to grab a log and hops onto the bank of the willow's island.
The rushing water arches over me, saturating my cloak, adding to its weight. I stumble to my feet, stepping clumsily onto the muddy bank. Putting the full weight of my body behind the strike, I punch the young mephit, bursting it against my fist. We soon see three elder mud mephits emerging from behind the tree, followed by a haunting noise: creaking and moaning as two knotted, root-like men stagger into view. Wood woads, seeking carnage. The damned things give me the creeps. Shadowheart and Astarion can be seen in the distance, still tracking the bank. I concentrate on the tadpole and send an image to them. "Come east, there are shallow stones in the river. Bex and I ambushed by mud mephits and wood woads. Too many of them. HELP."
I receive two messages back in quick succession.
The first is militant and firm. "Hold tight. On our way." Bless Shadowheart.
The second is just whining. "Disgusting." My love letter from Astarion.
I look at Shovel, "Keep them at bay." She nods enthusiastically and runs forward, unleashing a horrifyingly hellish screech that paralyzes two of the mephits in fear. "SHOVEL WILL SLAP YOUR COCK OFF!"
I pick up Bex and run over to the water so she can clear the mud from her eyes. Another glop of mud is slung our way, but it misses. Another young mephit has risen near us. I see which elder mephit conjured it. Frustrated, I focus, enveloped once again in the sparks of red. Inspired by Ilyn Toth, I belt four magic missiles at the elder mud mephit that summoned the younger one. Each missile pummels it, and the elder mephit screeches, dark holes piercing its body.
"Focus your attacks on the elder mephits. The younger ones will pop once their summoner dies!"
Bex swiftly raises her crossbow and shoots the weakened elder mephit, the creature rupturing into a cascade of useless muck. The young mephit it conjured follows suit. I hear Shadowheart and Astarion dashing into the chaos. Shadowheart's silken incantation conjures a fire bolt, pelting one of the wood woads. It cries in pain, a rasping snarl that seems to echo from an ethereal plane.
She plants herself at range and readies another fire bolt. "Wood woads are susceptible to flames! Focus fire attacks to bring them down!"
I lock eyes with Astarion, "Split your fire arrows with Bex!"
Astarion swiftly reaches into his quiver and tosses her four, "Don't miss, my dear, that's all you're getting." He smirks before knocking and dragging his arrow back. He takes a beat to aim and, loosing the arrow, splits off the creature's arm. Another rasping cry as it staggers over.
Its brother lets out a vast cacophony of roots that weave into the ground, gripping our feet and holding us in place. I swiftly reach down and unleash hells' flames that rip through the bed of roots, turning them into brittle charcoal.
The fire creeps up the weakened wood woad and, in a snap, it's engulfed. It flails as it burns from the inside out.
Tracking the theater around me, I see Shovel is continuing to swipe at the ancient mud mephits, though they've started dodging her assault, taunting her as they fly just out of reach of her claws.
"Stinking Mud Mongrels! Come down so Shovel can kill you!"
The elder mephits are laughing at her, which means they're distracted. I arm myself with my greatsword and charge the mephits, swinging upward, splitting one of them in two. I quickly redirect my swing, striking laterally, knocking another out of the air.
As it hits the ground Shovel jumps onto it with pure quasit rage, clawing chunks of mud out of its face. "SHOVEL IS VICIOUS DRAGON!!!" She roars and continues to tear until the mephit falls still.
As I turn to the last mephit, it blinds me with a smattering of mud. I try to wipe myself clean and finally regain some of my vision. Frustrated, I see the mephit laughing, floating not two meters from me. I swiftly storm over and before it can react, I snatch it, tearing its wings off and throwing its useless body to the ground. It writhes and screams, as I swiftly bring my boot down onto it. With a final squelch, it falls silent. Fucking elementals...
I look up to see the last wood woad on the ground, burnt to a crisp. Bex clutching her chest and breathing heavily. Shadowheart walks over to her while Astarion tucks away his bow and glances at her. "She's doing well. Do you think we can keep her?"
Bex gives him a half-smile through her pain. Shadowheart blesses her with a healing spell, and she recovers neatly, giving her a nod in gratitude. "Thank you."
Shadowheart gives her a welcoming smile. "No need to thank me. We're a team."
The smile on Bex's face says everything. She may have just found the purpose she was seeking.
I walk over to the water and gingerly wash my face clean, before making my way over to them. The shadows are long, and the sun wanes in the sky. "We don't have much daylight left to search the island. Let's set up camp, and return to this bright and early."
With a collective exhale, we carefully make our way off the island and back to the docks, setting up camp and settling in for the night.