Chpt 3. The Grove
Trigger Warnings: Violence, Fantasy Racism, Violence Against White Men, Threatening Children, Choking the Snake
The path we follow is a well-trodden gorge; the high earthen walls are sunbaked and lifeless. As we walk, our feet kick up fine dust that fills our nostrils with the pungent scent of parched iron. It coats my cloak, leaving me feeling filthier than ever. I try to shake myself off, but it's useless.
Lae'zel steps in front of the party, holding up her hand. "Wait. Listen."
We pause and hear a panicked voice echoing off the surrounding walls. It sounds pleading but we can't be sure until we get closer. Lae'zel leads the way, and we find ourselves behind a hill that splits into two paths that arch around either side. Lae'zel moves but I quickly grab her shoulder and shake my head, putting my finger to my lips, beckoning silence. She scowls at me but remains planted where I leave her, quiet, though agitated. I crouch low and climb the hill, peeking over to appraise the situation. I see a party of three humans standing in the gorge calling up to a tiefling man, holding fast to the winch of a hidden portcullis.
"Let us in! They're almost here, we don't have time to argue with you, Kanon!" The human flailing in the gorge is an adventurer of sorts. He's wearing a green padded jerkin, and traveler's clothes, and has curly brown hair and a plain face, with a voice, shrill and arrogant, to match his punchable demeanor.
"What's going on here?" Stepping through the collection of tieflings that have begun to gather at the parapets of the gate, is a Paladin. I believe he's a Hellrider, one of Hell's soldiers. We suddenly hear shrieking, laughing, and whooping ululations coming from down the gorge as a horde of goblins gallop ever closer. The man grows desperate. "Let us in, Zevlor!"
The Hellrider, Zevlor, shouts in abject rage. "You brought them straight to us, Aradin! You gods-damned fool!"
An arrow hits the dirt at Aradin's feet. "Form a line!" His crew turns to face the horde, readying their meager weapons.
I beckon my new companions to join me but remain low. This gives us a vantage point where we witness the goblins round the corner and quickly pelt Kanon with two arrows, each one hitting something vital. He collapses unceremoniously. Not a cry, not even a whimper. It evokes a feeling of satisfaction within me. Why?
The goblins flood the area, I count six, a bugbear, and a worg. As the goblins prepare for their assault, two of their archers run up the hill, on the side opposite us. They don't see us perched there until it's too late. Gale stands and rushes forward, chanting an incantation before releasing a thunderous blast that throws both archers off the ledge and sends them cascading to the hard ground below. Upon impact, one remains down, while the other staggers to her feet, blood dripping from her ears and disoriented. She walks in circles uselessly as the other goblins take position.
The goblin that leads the horde raises his sword into the air and cries with a religious conviction. "For The Absolute!" The Absolute? I’m being overwhelmed with myriad vague notions, just out of reach from knowing. I am a blank slate but clearly there are vestiges of who I was somewhere within the recesses of my mind.
Shadowheart swiftly stands and pelts the faction's leader with a guiding bolt, and with a broad wave of her hand we are engulfed in a dark blessing that gives us a stronger resolve.
Lae'zel runs past us and leaps into the fray. She takes a swing at the bugbear, but it dodges the hit, Lae'zel doesn't miss a beat and takes a second, more direct swing, landing the blow. It splits open his arm, leaving a cauterizing laceration. The bugbear screams and swings back at Lae'zel with his mace. She partially blocks it, but I hear the clunk of the blunt weapon on her armor.
As I glance across the fray, I notice Astarion is nowhere to be seen. A haunted coward, I should have known. I run down the cliff face and take a swing at one of the goblins, the Booyagh, one of their spell casters. My strike splits her bony face mask, and her expression of shock and fear feeds my cruelty. She begins to chant an incantation, but before she can finish, I smash her face in with the butt of my sword. She collapses in a fit of blood and broken teeth. I pierce my sword down into her body to be sure she's dead.
There’s a chatter coming from the parapets and I look to see a line of tiefling refugees and druids, watching anxiously. This is the druid's grove, we've found it. Thank the gods, civilization. I refocus just in time to see the worg on the verge of cracking down on me with its gnarled jaws. Like a ghost, Astarion appears, leaping onto the worg’s back and dragging his blade across its throat. The blood spills free in a sticky deluge, and the creature drops and skids to a halt. I catch Astarion's eye, and we exchange a grin, and I give him a gentleman's nod.
There’s an abrupt gasp as I see a tiefling woman with short blonde curled hair holding her hands to her mouth in anticipation. She’s grinning, thrilled by the spectacle. A man reaches over and places his arms around her shoulders, rubbing her in comfort and squeezing affectionately. He is watching as well but looks far more concerned with our plight. I've lost focus and an arrow shatters against the back of my cloak. A goblin archer stands near the corpse of a woman from Aradin's crew. My anger rises and with infernal fury, I point at the archer, beckoning flames to engulf the bastard. A hellish rebuke. True to my power, he erupts into flames and dies screaming. It sends pleasurable chills down my spine. Crackling. Sensational. Almost erotic.
There is only the bugbear, the worg, and the goblin leader left. The bugbear has been dodging some of Lae'zel's assault but is noticeably wounded. I bewitch the bugbear to turn his fury on me, and like a good boy, he turns and begins to charge me. Using his momentum against him, I pull the strength from my profane god and strike him with a divine smite. The bugbear crumples into a ruptured mess.
The remaining goblin is swiftly crushed by Aradin’s club. The man seems furious because he won’t stop beating the goblin, despite it being ground meat on the ground. After a moment he takes a step back, breath heavy, eyes laced with fury.
“Shit!” He looks at the fallen woman, running a bloody hand across his nose. His remaining companion is standing, stunned, shaking his head in disbelief. “Shit…” He swiftly turns his gaze to Zevlor as the gate is opened by one of the other refugees. “YOU!” Aradin darts in without another word.
My company and I swiftly follow through the gate, stepping into a Hollow where the refugees have set up camp. We see them meandering back to their business. The Hollow is an open cave system with the only entrance being the gate. Prudent.
Through the meager crowd, my eye catches the couple again. They're walking hand in hand. Tymora must favor them, to have made it this far and still have each other. What a tragedy it would be to have come from the hells only to die in a stinking cave in the middle of nowhere.
As if she read my thoughts, the woman glances back at me. She looks like she's trying to read me; her gaze traveling across me for a beat too long. I bet she's an animal in bed. The man glances back at me as well, then wraps his arm around her protectively. They begin whispering.
Tieflings are exhausting.
I walk into a heated discussion between Zevlor and Aradin.
"WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?! You brought them straight to us! Do you know what would happen if our location was exposed to the whole tribe!?"
Aradin postures aggressively, chest out, malice in every word. "I was thinking about saving my crew!"
I step in. "What's done is done, no use arguing about it now."
Aradin turns to me, "Who the hells are you again?"
Zevlor scoffs, "This is the man that just saved your sorry hide for whatever that's worth!"
"We wouldn't have needed saving if you had done your job! But you only care for your own, don't you? Selfish to the core, just like any other washed-up fiend! I'm done with you sorry fucking tieflings! Let's go, Barth." Aradin gestures to his companion.
As they leave Zevlor throws his hands in the air. "So you run to us for safety and then just leave after getting a good man killed!?"
Aradin turns to face Zevlor, swaggering backwards as he continues his way out. "He was just a foulblood. I'm not going to lose sleep over it."
A grin splits my face, teeth gleaming, thirst in my heart. I make eye contact with Aradin. "Foulblood?"
Zevlor takes a step forward, jaw clenched, fists tight. I put a hand on his chest, pushing him back. Zevlor eyes me but allows me the pleasure. Aradin sees me walk towards him and his cocky smile falls in an instant. He begins to run but I catch him, spinning him around by the shoulder. Putting my full weight behind the blow, I deck him square in the face, feeling a sickening crunch. He collapses, useless man that he is. My eyes snap to Barth who is standing there, mouth agape. I step over Aradin's body in his direction. He recoils and swiftly runs, leaving the grove behind. Aradin stirs, blood smeared across his face, a faint groan escaping him. That's going to hurt for a while. I make my way back to Zevlor. "Quite the morning, isn't it?"
I get a laugh out of him, though it's laced with regret. "It's certainly more lively than usual. I'm just sad it led to another needless loss."
"My condolences. I can't imagine how you must be feeling." I tip my head, performatively mournful.
He puts his hand on my shoulder. I glance at it, feeling an air of desperation about him. "I'm just glad to see another paladin, you might be exactly what we need. Come, you look like you could use some respite. Join me, I can offer you some food, and we can get you and your party cleaned up."
A generous offer that I am loath to refuse, though I anticipate the favor attached. We follow him through the Hollow toward a wooden structure. It's a communal eating space, with a platform just above where the tiefling couple is camped. I absentmindedly overhear their charming banter.
"Do you think we can get a dog once we're in Baldur's Gate?"
"They don't allow dogs, unfortunately. Cats though!"
"A little orange cat, with a door so it can come and go as it pleases."
Endearing. A faint crackle runs up my spine and makes my hair stand on end.
Zevlor's private chamber is to the left of the structure. It's a portion of the cave neatly sequestered by a stone door with druidic carvings. Inside, there is a small spring where we can freshen up.
He walks up to a stone table and gestures toward the spring. "Settle in, you must have clawed your way through chaos getting here. I can't imagine what you've already faced. Gnolls, Goblins, Ogres, Bugbears, Drow. They've all been haunting these wilds."
I finish rinsing myself off and walk over to him, toweling off my hair and pulling it back with my fingers. I lean on the edge of the stone table, feeling refreshed, though I yearn for the embrace of blood once again. "I appreciate your generosity. Isn't it common for lands like these to be host to such creatures?"
"True enough, but they seem to be organized. A goblin captive, Sazza, has been ranting about their new goddess, The Absolute. It seems this goddess has brought the goblins under new leadership. I suspect the other creatures have also fallen in line, given what we've faced."
"A true tyrant," I say flatly. "Why does it matter?"
His face falls and he tries to stand with poise, but his posture is exhausted. "These people are refugees from Elturel. I'm escorting them to Baldur's Gate where they can get a fresh start. They're no fighters. We've already been ambushed by gnolls. One of our bards, Lihala, distracted them, allowing us to escape." He goes quiet, the death still fresh in his mind. "She didn't make it, but she saved so many."
A hero among the desperate, gone before her time. I wonder if she's sitting in the fugue plane debating on whether it was worth it.
His eyes shift into a humble plea. "In light of the dangers, the Druids have started a ritual to cut the grove off from outsiders. If we are forced out, we will be consumed by followers of this Absolute. These creatures are insidious if they work together. We need to find their leaders and take them out. Without direction they should scatter, and the roads will be safe enough to travel."
"If they're pushing you out, how did you get in to begin with?"
Zevlor snorts. "A prudent question. This circles First Druid, Halsin, allowed us to take refuge in this hollow before leaving with that adventure you knocked out." His lip twitches with a faint smile, running it back in his mind. "In his absence, he appointed Kagha to be the First Druid in his stead. She is the one who decided to start the ritual. The Rite of Thorns."
"I see." I turn the problem over in my mind. If I help them, I'd be wasting my precious time gaining the favor of a band of helpless beggars. My party likely won't be onboard with such a venture. We have more pressing matters. On the other hand, if the Rite of Thorns is a fresh development in this circle of druids, not all of them will be on board with such a ham-fisted attempt at safety. It may be easier to dismantle the grove's leadership over taking on an entire goblin camp. That could prove far more lucrative in the long run. "Before I make a decision, I need to find a healer."
Shadowheart exhales, and she catches my eye. I give her a comforting nod, but our moment is interrupted by Lae'zel, scoffing. "T'chk! Placate yourselves all you want, but I need to speak to Zorru."
Zevlor is silent for a moment as if our requests were a tall order. "Zorru is among the other refugees, a bit shaken from an encounter with your kind, while out scouting, he may not be keen on speaking with you." He turns back to me. "Nettie is the only healer here, but she is in the inner sanctum of the grove. The Druids have barred anyone from entering, save for a precious few exceptions. You may have a chance to speak with her since you've already saved the grove from a goblin attack." He pauses, considering me for a moment. "If they let you in, maybe you can speak with Kagha, and have her delay this ritual of hers. It would mean a great deal to us."
I'll need to gauge the temperature of the Druid's before I can do anything. "I'll see what I can do."
Astarion throws his hands into the air. "Excuse me! Don't we have enough on our plate? It's not like we have all the time in the world."
My skin tingles as I turn to Astarion with a knowing smile. A little too broad. A little too confident. "I assure you; this will take no time at all."
He is unsettled by my tone and backs down.
Zevlor nods his head in appreciation. "You have my thanks, Brother. The inner sanctum is through the Hollow, just follow the incessant chanting."
We quickly take our leave, and as we step back into the Hollow, I scan the refugees for a reliable face to question regarding Zorru. I take in the bustle of the Hollow, smelling food cooking, hearing a smith's hammer clanging, and feel a faint hush of Feywild humming in the air. There is a forge just past the wooden structure; it might be best to acquaint ourselves with the smith. As we make our way, I once again overhear the couple's chatter.
"What do you think we'll do when we get to Baldur's Gate?"
The woman responds, giddy and hopeful, "Maybe I can be a teacher, or a baker, or a butcher!"
"...A butcher?"
"Sure! Blood excites me."
I glance up at her as she fusses with her things, a coy smile on her face. She was teasing him. Still, I can't help but wonder if there are others affected by my condition? Haunted with thoughts of blood. Or perhaps they are blessings. As she says, it is rather exciting.
The smith turns as we approach, giving us a humble smile. "Hello! Rare to see newcomers in this place. Did you travel far?" He cleans his hands with his apron before reaching out in welcome.
I take it in kind and give him a firm shake, "You could say that. This is an impressive set up, given your circumstances; how did you manage?"
He sighs, shaking his head, glancing at it pitifully. "A modest facility provided by the Druids before they decided to turn on us. Master Halsin, the First Druid, was more than happy to offer help before he disappeared with those adventurers. I've been able to keep her steady with what I have. If there's anything you need just let me know and I can certainly do my best. I'm Dammon."
"A pleasure to meet you. Call me Vash, this is Shadowheart, Astarion, Gale, and Lae'zel." Dammon nods to each, friendly and inviting. "I am looking for a man named Zorru. Do you know him?"
Dammon nods toward a ranger standing near a storage shed down the path. "Just down the way. He's a bit shaken up so forgive his demeanor, but he's a good kid."
Lae'zel immediately makes a beeline for him, and I quickly follow her, calling back to the smith. "Thank you, we may be back!"
Dammon waves politely but Shadowheart stays behind, addressing a different matter with him as we pursue Lae'zel. Astarion, Gale and I try to catch up with her but she gets to him first.
The minute Zorru sees her coming he ducks down, holding up his hands defensively. "Gods! Not another one! Why in the nine hells would you follow me here? Come to finish me off too? Wasn't killing Yul good enough for you?"
Lae'zel holds her head high, domineering. "That remains to be seen as long as you comply, welp. On your knees!"
Zorru sees the rest of us approaching and he looks at me with desperate eyes. He's mistaken me for a comrade. My voice is suddenly like a battering ram. "You heard the woman, kneel."
My word commands his body, and he drops to his knees. He's startled but quickly sinks into defeat.
Lae'zel snarls. "You saw my people on the road. Where?"
His voice is shaking, "Up the Risen Road near Waukeen's Rest, by the bridge."
I look at Lae'zel, "We'll get a map of the area."
Zorru pulls one from his satchel, "Here, take mine, just leave me in peace!"
Lae'zel snatches it from his hand and looks it over, "There." She points at a northeasterly spot, clearly outlined. "This is where we need to search."
I give Zorru a gracious nod and offer my hand. "Many thanks, and apologies for my companion. We're on urgent business."
Zorru takes my hand and stands but says nothing. Recognizing his deflation, I give him a nod. He quickly scurries off.
Lae'zel rolls her eyes, "Your soft heart will get us nowhere while we race against time with these Ghaik worms in our skulls."
"With all the impressive battle prowess the gith have, I'm shocked you haven't learned the art of diplomacy."
"Diplomacy has its place but it's a weakling's folly to rely on it when the blade works well enough. Now let's go."
Lae'zel turns to leave but I grab her shoulder. "We need to speak with Nettie first. I'm not leaving without seeing her."
She jerks her shoulder free from my grip and spits back. "Fine! I'll let you speak to the druid healer, but make it quick! Maybe then you will see how futile such an endeavor is."
I give her a patient bow. "That's all I ask."
I swiftly brush past her as she scowls, Astarion and Gale following me like ducklings. We finally make it to a stone archway, ornate with druidic carvings. There is a clash underway between the druid guards and another tiefling couple. The husband seems to be holding his wife back.
"Mragreshem! I don't care if I have to claw my way through all of you, give my daughter back!" A woman struggles as she attempts to lunge at the guards.
"Please, Komira! This isn't the way!" She doesn't respond and continues to struggle in his arms. He turns to the guards who are poised to strike. "Please! She's just a girl! Have some compassion!"
One of the guards spits back at the desperate parents. "She's a thief hell spawn, and she will face judgment for her crime!"
One of the guards polymorphs into a large bear, standing tall and growling a clear warning. Komira and her husband relent but the panic and anger remain.
I approach, and the guard's attention shifts to me, weapons at the ready. "Step back! This grove is off limits!"
"I need to speak to Nettie. It's an urgent matter." I stare down at the guard, then shift my eyes to the bear, languid and unflinching.
She hesitates, but her resolve returns and she holds a staff laterally, preventing my entrance. Suddenly another druid runs up to the guard and whispers in her ear. Her eyes grow wide, and she scowls. "You!" She points at me, "Kagha has requested to see you. You may enter; she'll be in the First Druid's chambers on the right."
A summons from the First Druid herself. It could be fortune, but it feels more like desperation. My smile is placating and gracious. "You have my thanks."
As I begin to walk in, I feel a tugging on my sleeve. I turn to see the mother, Komira, hanging off me, hands trembling. "Please, ser, you must talk sense into them, show them that true justice is mercy! Bring my daughter back to me! Out of the good of your heart, Brother!" As she pleads, she's on the brink of tears.
Her panic is a fantastic sight, but her words echo in my mind. The good of my heart. My nostrils flare as I take a breath in. "I'll see what I can do." I shake her free of my sleeve and proceed in.
The inner sanctum is a simple grove, lush and alive, walled by ancient stone archways that look like the beginnings of a structure that never came to fruition. At the center, perched on a mossy pillar, is a stone idol of the god Silvanus. It glows with verdant magic; a clear stream of water is guided around the shrine by a stone runnel. The Rite of Thorns is well underway. Druids encircle the shrine, hands outstretched, chanting the incantation with devotion... or desperation. There are other druids milling about, and I look for anyone that may give a whiff of dissent.
My eye lands on a woman, hunched and frantically whispering to a blue jay. I walk up behind her, approaching gently. "Is everything alright?"
She stands up straight, startled. "Yes! Of course." As she faces me, she is taken aback by my presence and takes a subtle step back. "W-What are you doing in the inner sanctum?"
My tail gives a soft lash, and I address her with an inviting smile. "I've received a summons from the First Druid."
She eyes me suspiciously. "Why would she want to summon you? I didn't think she was speaking to any more refugees." I sense a small glint of hope.
"I am not a refugee. I am the leader of the party that fought in the goblin skirmish at the gate."
Her eyes go wide, and she gives a respectful nod. "You're that paladin! My apologies. I assure you; I have nothing against your kind. It's just been..." She trails off, glancing around at the others.
"I understand. I've already spoken with Zevlor." My voice is low as I match her caution.
She locks eyes with me, hesitant, but that glint of hope has grown brighter. "Do you mind if we speak privately?"
I hold out my arm, "Lead the way." I turn to my party. "Wait for me here, we'll be back."
Astarion rolls his eyes. "This certainly isn't a waste of our very limited time."
Gale waves him off. "By the Gods, go, if you think you can help." He's inspired by me. Him and his tender heart.
I follow the woman to a wooden elevator that takes us up to a private grass-lined path. She pulls me over to a corner. "What did Zevlor tell you?"
"Your First Druid, Halsin, left with the adventurers and hasn't come back. Kagha is First Druid in his stead, and it was she who ordered the Rite of Thorns be performed."
She nods. "The sum of things." She's still hesitant to open up, but I see the concession wash over her. "I have been sending birds to try and reach him but have gotten nothing back. I've even lost some birds in my attempts. I'm at a loss. Your people don't deserve this, Halsin would have never approved of such a ritual. Surely this goes against the natural order. We should be sharing our bounty, not walling it off."
I glance down at the Rite, the chants and wavering druid magic hum through me. "How many others feel the way you do?"
She shakes her head. "Not enough, I fear."
"Do you think you can organize who you have, without being found out?" I turn back to her, to gauge her demeanor.
"Y-yes. I think so." She's nervous, but desperate.
"Good. Let's keep in contact. How long before the Rite is over?"
She glances down at them. "It should have been done by now, but something is wrong. I can't tell what. I'm not sure how long it will take."
Great, another ticking timebomb. Seems messy. "What's your name?"
She's gripping her hands and turns back to me with a stammer. “A-Apikusis. It's a pleasure to meet you."
My warm smile returns, and I reach out to grasp her hand, working to ease her anxiety. "Apikusis. A genuinely beautiful name. I'm jealous."
She snorts and can't hold herself back. "It’s nice to meet you, Jealous."
I grin at her clumsy attempt at flirting. "My party and I will be camped just outside the grove. Send a bird with news of any developments. I promise, I will do everything I can to assist."
"A druid and a tiefling, working together. Who would have imagined it." We walk back over to the elevator, and her shoulders relax. "Silvanus himself must have sent you." She glances up at me, hopeful. “Thank you.”
I place a gentle hand on her back, and I see her blush. "It's what I'm here for, to see justice done."