Chpt 8. Mommy, Sorry
Trigger Warning: 100% smut, Sadomasochism, Sub, Dom, Violence, Sexual Violence, Cucking, Hair Pulling, Strangulation, Violent Fantasies, Lo Siento Senorita, Jealous Frogs.
Sazza is sitting on the edge of the broken stone flooring overlooking the spider pit. She turns toward us as we approach, and slowly climbs to her feet, "Gods Boss, you killed a squid?"
Astarion gives me a mocking glance, knowing full well the damn thing was helpless. I ignore him, "Yes, they are tenacious. Now, I believe you were going to introduce me to Minthara."
Sazza's spirits lift, "That's right! She's right through here!" She points to a door just in front of us.
As she leads us in, the chamber is clearly laid out like a war room. Inside we see a slender, hardened drow in webbed armour. Her hair is tied up in a loose bun and her voice is commanding, domineering, and incredibly dulcet. She's berating Brynna, the Novice that escaped me yesterday, "I don't care if he was a True Soul, he doesn't outrank me! If he were callous enough to kill your brother, then maybe Andrick deserved it. I need you out there searching for that weapon!" Her voice fills the room with a tantalizing dominance. I want her to scream at me, step on my neck, tell me what a wretch I am.
As I approach, Brynna sees me coming. She goes pale, and her eyes grow wide with the doe's fear she wears so beautifully. She steps back, never allowing less than 4 meters between us. Minthara follows her gaze and turns to me. As her eyes meet mine, she surges into my thoughts. I empty my head and only offer the one thought that pervades. Death. From her mind I am fed the image of her communing with the Crab Bitch. I focus on the image of The Chosen, collecting any notion I can get from this brief connection. She has a long annoying braid, pale shifting skin and even paler eyes. My heart mewls with a sense of resentment, pity, and reluctant obligation. As if she were a child I used to babysit. The image of her stirs more in me than the others. Our connection fades and Minthara waves her hand dismissively, "You must be him. The True Soul who's come to undermine my authority?"
Her cold voice laps at my ears, sensually. I can't hold back my smirk, but maintain my composure, "I have come to aid in the search for the weapon. I was sent from Moonrise."
What was once indignant rage melts into a wary skepticism, "I can see you've come with violence in your heart; you are to help me mount an attack on those creatures in the grove."
I hold up my hand, "I have infiltrated the grove. I am currently working amongst the druids and refugees."
She looks at me stunned, "You?! Infiltrated the grove?"
I roll my eyes and gesture to my horns.
The flippant response clearly annoys her, but she continues, "Good... that means the Tieflings trust you. You can take us to the grove. Make your way inside and when I give the signal, let us in. We will burn that damned place to the ground and sift the weapon from the ashes."
The image she paints in my mind is erotic. Bodies. Everywhere. I close my eyes and tilt my head back giving a deep sigh of pleasure. I can watch each Tiefling as the light is snuffed out of their eyes. I exhale and murmur under my breath, "They will die thinking I'm their hero..." My heart grasps desperately for the beautiful fate; but as blissful as the notion is, none of this takes into account my imminent survival. I know I am in the grasps of my madness again, so I pull out of the cradle of euphoria and come back to myself. "No. I still have dealings that need to be tended to. Dealings that involve the residents remain alive for now. Once those are complete, I can give the word, and we can march on the grove."
"And what dealings are those? How can those mongrels be of any use to The Absolute?" Her probing is getting dangerous.
Taking on my usual posture of authority, I attempt to rein in the conversation, "These orders are for my ears only, and I will carry them out in the name of The Absolute."
She refuses to be intimidated and bites back, "You invoke her name against me? I am Nightwarden Minthara Baenre, I will not be spoken down to by a subordinate. I demand you tell me the nature of your orders!"
I am so used to people buckling under my superiority that her pushback catches me off guard. My mind goes blank, and I can't think of a lie to fill the void. I'm clouded by fantasies of dominating her, only to crave being punished for it. I'm lost in the possibilities, and as the silence stretches on a cocky grin crosses my face.
Her ire rises and she snaps impatiently, "Insufferable!" She forcefully surges back into my mind and sees in an instant everything I want to do to her, everything I want her to do to me. She pauses and then pulls out, considering me for a moment. She begins to laugh at me; brash, sharp, and alluring, "You are as uncouth as the goblins." She steps closer, her presence dominates the space between us. With callous red eyes gleaming with predation, she begins to walk around me, circling me slowly like a spider assessing her prey. She grabs the collar of my cloak and with force pulls it off my shoulders, dropping it to the ground. I feel that sense of coldness and vulnerability that I had on the nautiloid, but this time it's couched in arousal as she openly objectifies me. With a light touch she drags her finger across my arm. It's subtle but enough to send shivers down my spine.
She pauses before me, gliding her hand across my chest, resting her palm at its center. Her face inches from mine, her breath warm against my skin; she need only say a single word, "Down." She pushes me and before I can even think I eagerly drop to my knees. She steps on my thigh, and with one finger under my chin, forces me to face her, her nail digging in just enough to keep me in line, "Pathetic dog, begging for a master, so desperate to please." Her gaze burrows deep into my heart, and she slaps me hard across the face. The sound of the strike echoes through the chamber, and a shocked silence falls over my companions. I glance at them; Shadowheart stirs as she takes in the moment, watching me, she almost seems amused. Astarion sidesteps closer to her as they both wait to see what happens. Lae'zel is barely glancing at me, almost like she's embarrassed for me. The thrill of being demeaned in front of them further fuels my desires. Minthara asks again, her voice cutting sharper, "What is the nature of your orders!?"
My heart is racing, but I say nothing. She waits a moment more and strikes me again, harder, "WHAT IS THE NATURE OF YOUR ORDERS!?"
I am a throbbing mess, I want nothing more than to push her to the ends of her anger, but I concede that our purpose here goes beyond my perverse fantasies. I finally speak, though slowly and with a submissive lilt, "I have come looking for the Druid Halsin. He was party to the adventurers that slipped into this very camp."
Her eyes go wide, and she turns to a goblin subordinate, "Druid!? When were you going to tell me the damned bear was a DRUID!?" She points at the goblin guards, "Throw him in the spider pits, NOW!"
The guards jump, closing in on the goblin subordinate and pulling him away kicking and screaming. Sazza watches on, hugging her elbows, mouth agape. The goblin pleads and screams as he's dragged to his death, "NO MISTRESS! PLEASE! I-I THOUGHT IT WAS JUST A BEAR!!!!"
She turns back to me with fury and puts her boot on my chest, kicking me to the ground. I fall, splayed out onto the cold and filthy stone floor. My horns catch the ground and rattle my skull; my teeth bite shut with force. I'm dazed by the assault as she leaves me there, walking back to her war table, "Pick up your damn cloak." Her voice is a velvet whip that strikes my soul, "You look like a damned mess." My legs unsteady I finally stand, brushing my hair back with a trembling hand. I stoop down and pick up my cloak, throwing it over my shoulders. I adjust my pants in futility, visibly aroused, and helplessly so.
She looks at me and snaps her fingers three times, pointing to the ground in front of her. Like the dog that I am, I obey and move to where she commands. She pushes me back against the table, the wood creaking beneath my weight as I am forced to lean into it. She drags her thigh against my throbbing cock, teasing but offering no relief. She pulls me in by the collar, "You will learn your place, degenerates like you always do. Obey and I may indulge you, cross me again and I will end you. Surely that should be simple enough for a half-wit foulblood to understand."
I bristle with desire, but I feel the damned voices rise within me again. Grab her by the hair. Hold her down. Fuck her in front of everyone. She needs to be punished. She wants it. She wants you. You deserve to have her. There would be nothing she could do to stop you. There's nothing stopping you. Nothing stopping you. I need to get the fuck out of here before I do something. Minthara knows what she's doing, but she doesn't understand the lengths I will go to for pleasure. I feel ravenous, my arms twitch as I fight the need to grab her and bend her over the table. Where is the waistband to her armour, anyway? My eyes drift across her body, the armour is doing nothing to hide her figure. I give in to my lust just enough to slowly brush my hand down the curve of her waist, testing her limits. She slaps me once again, "Keep your filthy hands to yourself!" Her protests only serve to provoke me more and I feel myself slipping into madness. A wide grin splits my foul mouth, sharp teeth gleaming in the candlelight. I yearn to bite her. I slide my hands under the tassets of her armour, and firmly grip her ass, pulling her into my erection. She gasps as she falls into me, catching herself on my shoulders. A fresh, contemptuous fire ignites within her. Her fist slams into my face and the shock of the blow causes me to let go of her, sharp pain shooting through my nose and down my neck. I take the hit and give myself a moment to recover, feeling blood trickling down my lip as it slowly cools on my skin. I meet her eyes with mine, flaming gold and feral, grinning like the reckless fool that I am, "Good girl..."
She pulls a dagger out, holding its razor's edge to my throat. Her short temper cut even shorter by my disrespect, and I love it. "SHUT UP! And pay attention!" She grabs my face, digging her nails into my cheeks. "Go to the worg pens, you will find the druid there, as a bear." Her voice drips with a resentful and patronizing tone, "There is a ladder leaning against that wall on your left as you leave. The pens are through the door in the next corridor over. Question the ingrate, complete your 'mission', and return to me when you are finally ready to march."
My eyes track hers, my mouth watering, my heart thumping in my chest with exhilaration. She finally releases me from her cruel grasp.
"You are dismissed; I have other leads to follow. I'll leave that damned grove to you, for now." She pushes me back with force and steps away, turning to Brynna, "You, join the goblins. I will call for you when the Absolute has use for you again."
Brynna looks on, speechless and visibly uncomfortable. She begins to move as soon as her thoughts catch up with her, leaving with her head down, refusing to look at anyone.
I watch her leave and pity her. Nothing left to her, no family, no purpose, only a relentless limbo while she waits to be useful again. I take a deep breath and stand, trying to regain my composure. I attempt to adjust my pants again, and again, it's a futile effort. I rejoin my companions, and see Shadowheart and Astarion standing next to each other, completely engrossed in my humiliation. I'm grinning like an idiot and shake my head at them before a flash of clarity strikes me. I turn back to Minthara, "What are my orders once I've located the weapon?"
She does not address me for several moments before finally speaking, though she barely acknowledges my presence, "Zrell sends me useless man after useless man. You're no better than that buffoon, Nere." She looks up at me, her annoyance edged with disdain, "Once it's located, you bring it to me where we return to Moonrise Towers and report to General Thorm. Then we will get fresh orders. If you weren't such a half-wit this would be obvious."
Thorm. The name thrums in my mind like the sound of a war drum, and I get the phantom scent of dust and rot. "Of course, Mistress." She turns back to her map, but I hold my gaze to her for a moment more, settling my lustful heart before turning back to my company. I run my hand through my hair once more and look at Lae'zel, she is watching me impatiently. I gesture for her to lead us out since she's standing closest to the ladder, divorced from my torment entirely. As I go to follow the others I feel a gentle tug on my cloak.
I stop to see Sazza looking up at me expectantly, "Is there anything else you needed from me, Boss?" Her face is twisted into amusement at the spectacle she just witnessed. I can't blame her.
"No. You did very well in bringing me here." I open my cloak and pull out one of my daggers, "Take this, for your troubles." I stoop down and hand it to her. A small token, it's a standard iron dagger, well maintained and a good size for her.
She takes it and her eyes go wide, looking it over, turning it in her hand, "Hells' teeth, I've never seen anything with that kind of shine. I can see my own face in it!" She smirks with mischievous gratitude. She most certainly won't do anything constructive with that weapon, "Praise The Absolute! Thanks, Boss!"
I watch her with empty eyes as she scurries away. I straighten my cloak and continue after my team, glad to finally escape the dominant aura of the drow that still bewitches me. This place is not doing me any favors; it's almost embarrassing how horny a goblin camp is making me.
We leave with no information regarding the tadpoles, but I know now the Cult is centered at Moonrise, wherever the hells that is. The leader seems to be a man named General Thorm. He might very well be one of The Chosen. I get another hint of familiarity from it all, but as various sensations flood me, I begin to feel overwhelmed. My body still seethes from the feeling of erotic degradation. I quieten my thoughts for a moment, something that's quickly becoming habit. Always overwhelmed. Always too many voices. Always seething. It doesn't matter how hard I try they never seem to go away, my only hope is to dampen them enough to allow myself to rise to the surface and take control.
As we enter the pens, Shadowheart stops me, pulling me into a side room near the entrance. It looks like an old chapel, an Altar of Selune still standing vigil toward the front. My lustful thoughts are triggered by her command over my body. I feel incredibly sensitive, the slightest touch sends me hurtling back into the clutches of desperation, no matter how hard I try to suppress it. I turn my head and sneeze, and try to shake off the feeling, "Gods... excuse me." The sneeze was triggered by my fresh wave of arousal. I am trying not to allude to my current state and instead focus on her needs, but I wince from the pain of my busted nose.
She leans in to keep our conversation private. The school room is private but there are still portions of the walls that have crumbled away. Our voices could possibly carry if we aren't careful. She places her hand on my head. A pulse of blue light closes the wounds I earned from the drow, "You aren't really going to tell the goblins to march on the grove, are you?" She asks as if it were a matter of practicality, but the concern is blatant.
I rub my hand over my face and reclaim my senses, managing to soften myself for her, "I think you can agree that our number one priority is survival. Any decision I make moving forward will be in the interest of that goal. I took control of the mission involving the grove because we obviously need to question Halsin before we can make any decision on the matter. Who knows how far we can get with him if his precious grove is nothing but bodies and ash." I shudder and close my eyes, trying to stifle an inadvertent moan that registers in my throat. The erotic imagery causes another surge of desire that permeates my body. I calm myself once again and regain my composure before continuing with an unsteady voice, "However, if following Minthara to Moonrise is what is going to get us closer to a cure, then we have to hold the raid as a very real possibility."
Shadowheart hears my words and understands, but something is causing her to hesitate.
I put a hand on her back, "They're just refugees. They'd have died long ago given everything they've been through. They're ghosts floating on hopes for a better life. They aren't worth much in the greater scheme of things."
She appears to agree with me, and her face hardens, pushing her feelings aside in the name of duty, "You're right, of course. Goblins were going to raze that whole place with or without us, it's the nature of things. I'm just surprised you don't have more compassion for your own kin, and what about your oath?"
I look back at the others. Astarion is standing just outside the door, pretending not to listen. Lae'zel is poised with her back to us, acting as a lookout. Her stiff demeanor betrays her lingering agitation. Meeting Shadowheart's eye again, I lower my voice, "I am beginning to concede that my oath is lost, like so much of myself. The day may soon come that I swear a new oath to be imbued with new purpose. For now, our survival is my only priority." I can see she is hanging on my words. "After the visions on the bridge, it seems my God is beckoning me to hunt The Chosen of The Absolute. If that is my purpose, then all I can do is ensure the grove's sacrifice serves a greater good."
Her spirit stirs with alacrity, "I will help you, Vash, for as long as I am able. Although I have my own duties that must be tended to."
I give her a warm and gracious smile, "Your wisdom keeps me grounded, Shadowheart. The more we work together the more I believe we'll make it through this."
Shadowheart's hazel eyes shine with a yearning for validation, her demeanor shifting to genuine pride. She lifts her chin, and her features settle into a steely resolve, "If that's true, then I'd like to talk to you about your behavior with Nightwarden Minthara. To be frank, it was reckless, though I can't deny that it was effective. If you plan on using such tools of manipulation in the future, please be sure not to lose the run of yourself."
My mind rushes back to the fresh memories. Tantalizing as it all was, I was not in as much control as I needed to be. I'm not surprised she's bringing it up to me now, "I'd never endanger you, if that's your concern. Rest assured, I have control of myself, although I must admit I was being a little too indulgent."
"Indulgent?" I see a brief flash of mischief in her eye as she slowly closes the gap between us. "Is 'indulgent' the word you're going to use for your behavior?" Her hand finds my chest, gently pressing against me, "Do you think you deserve 'indulgence' when we are all relying on you to navigate this damned place? As you said, this is about our survival, and I honestly thought better of you." Her hand slides lower before pressing firmly against my lingering erection, "You're just another insufferable bastard who only thinks with his prick."
Shit. A tremor rushes through me the moment I feel her hand pressing against my cock. She feels it too, and grips tightly onto the back of my head, pulling me into a kiss, hot and passionate. I close my eyes and lean in as her hand slips down the front of my pants, running her delicate fingers over me. My heart is racing and my body aches, I sense myself becoming feral once again. A faint panic shocks me, Minthara is nowhere near as crucial as Shadowheart is to me, and my rancid impulses could jeopardize what I have with her. I pull back, and with a ragged breath I force myself to grab her wrists, restraining her from tormenting me any further, "Shadowheart, you don't have to do this." My pulse is throbbing, and my self-control hangs by a thread.
She flashes a giving, yet coquettish smile, unfazed by my grip on her, "Vash, I need you to get a hold of yourself. I can handle you, don't be afraid." Her eyes pierce my empty heart as the words escape her, but any feelings I might have for her are consumed by the void at the center of it all. All that is left for her is carnal desire. Afraid. Am I afraid of her? No. I've scared myself with my own impulsivity. I need her and here she is offering herself to me. I can remain in control, but I need to do this right.
As my mind sifts through the possibilities, I realize this may be the perfect opportunity to commune with Shar. I let go of her wrists and place a hand on her waist, her chainmail is cold beneath my fingers; the links shift as I grip her. The steel makes a soft ringing sound, quiet and stilted, as I guide her over to the Altar of Seluna. The blue stone eyes decorating the altar stare blankly at a temple with no purpose, dedicated to a goddess who hasn't heard a word of worship here in a hundred years. Shadowheart allows me to lift her up and place her onto the stone top. She glances back at the watchful eyes, and I smile warmly, brushing my hand across her cheek to put her at ease. Her face is scarred by countless battles, but she by no means looks battle worn. She watches me, trusting but uncertain. I place my hands on either side of her, leaning onto the altar. With a cold whisper, I invite her into my depraved thoughts, "Let's defile this place."
Her eyes go wide, and I see a flame ignite within her. She's no longer mischievous but genuinely lustful. I yearn for relief, but I need her to want me. She reaches up and pulls me into another kiss, this time it's not dutiful, it's heretical. Her lips are hot and flushed, and her warmth seeps into me with an infectious fervor. I run my hand under her thigh before reaching around her and gripping her ass hungrily. Her leggings are a padded woolen broadcloth with ornate stitching. There is lacing in the front that is easily undone, releasing the waist. She pulls my belt loose, reaching into my pants to free my erection, which springs forth with an aching desperation. She begins stroking me, mercifully. Feeling her fingers wrapped around me causes me to pull back from our kiss. I turn my head down, giving a quiet and satisfied moan. I am not going to last very long... but I want to savor as much of this as I can. She brims with satisfaction at pleasing me so intimately. I reach up under her draping mail and begin to pull the waist of her leggings down.
She puts a hand on my chest and firmly pushes me back, stopping me from removing her leggings. Jumping off the altar and looking up into my eyes, she sinks to her knees, and a chill runs down my spine. She once again takes me in hand and sticks out her tongue, resting my head on her lips before consuming me with ease. The tension in my shoulders melts away, and a great relief washes over me. I feel her working me skillfully, her mouth is warm and supple; her throat is relaxed. She knows I'm on the edge, and I am trying hard to hold myself back. She doesn't work me long, just enough to leave me slick with arousal and her tender ministrations.
With a toying grin she clutches the parting of my cloak, lifting herself up. I grip her shoulders and draw her close, my voice, a low whisper of honeyed dominion in her ear, "I want to weave myself into your devotion, I need your dark goddess to feel me as we mire this altar together."
Shadowheart's face twists into concern, "I... But I never told you-" I kiss her once more and then turn her around and bend her over the Altar of Seluna, grabbing the waistband of her leggings and pulling them down just enough to expose her to me. I look down at her delicate pink folds, her lips are slight and tufted with dark hair. I run my fingers over her, and she bites back a moan. She's slick, fragrant, and I hunger for her embrace. I tease my head over her, and with a few purposeful strokes I enter her. Chills shoot through me like a shock to my system as she hugs my cock deliciously. She is trying to be quiet, but I can tell she's struggling to stifle a trembling cry. I start slowly, but my motions grow greedy as my urges beg to be satiated. She's on her toes, gripping the ornate stonework. I lift my gaze to meet the eyes of Selune. I hold tightly to her hips, she is my precious sacrament to her goddess. I yearn to feel Selune's anguish but instead I am bathed in a soft darkness that imbues me with a contented sanction of my sensuous indulgence of Shadowheart's body. I lean forward and kiss Shadowheart's neck before whispering in her ear, "Are you okay with hair pulling?"
She breathes, cheeks flushed, body engaged, but her answer is direct, "Yes. Just don't ruin my braid."
I smile and kiss her neck once more, giving it a playful nibble; but in that moment I get a burst of pleasure as a sensation comes over me. Bite her neck. Watch her bleed. Hear her cry. Hear her scream for you once again. I feel my chest lurch as the foul thoughts flood my head. Its implications are unwelcome, but the images that flash in my mind nearly send me into completion. No. Not like this. I close my eyes, and hold for a moment.
She glances back at me, "Is everything alright?"
My mind settles, "Yes... I'm just having a hard time holding myself back. I want to enjoy this time with you."
I can tell she's smiling, and I gently run her braid across my palm before wrapping it around my hand and pulling her head back. She moves to a more upright position, and I hear her take a sharp breath in. I wrap my free arm around her body, holding her against me, as I continue. She reaches out, placing her hands on the altar for stability. She finally gives in and breaks her silence with a slight audible gasp and she coos softly, "Gods, Vash..."
My hand traveling up the front of her armour before gently gripping her neck. Vile images flash in my mind as the madness intrudes on the moment once again. I see her body lying on the beach, she would look far more peaceful, if she were dead. I see myself reaching for her neck, then feeling the sensations of strangling Nettie and seeing the blood sputtering from her mouth. I hear Shadowheart's pleads for rescue on the Nautiloid. Her distressed screaming and increasing panic as she watched me run past her, shrill and frightened. Her name drips from my mouth like a dark prayer, "Shadowheart..." My grip tightens as a raw pulse drives through me. She inhales with a quiet gasp, reaching behind and gripping my cloak tightly, pulling me into her. Her whole body flexes as she leans deep into me, letting out a silent cry. I feel her heart racing and her body pulsing as her passion blooms into pure euphoria. I feel a torrent of pleasure as I release into her. It's a rush of salvation from the smoldering mania that was burning away my self-control. Her orgasm adds a deepened ecstasy to mine and I lean my forehead on her shoulder as I drain everything I have into her. The surges from the pent-up arousal shock my body wonderfully and permeate every part of me.
I shudder, awash with a hum of dark energy. It's alluring but doesn't harmonize with the fabric of my soul. If this is Shar's power, then she is not the one who fuels me. I release Shadowheart, and she bends forward, catching her breath. It's only then I realize how tightly I had been gripping her neck. Red welts rise where my nails dug in. She didn't protest, but what concerns me is that I didn't feel myself doing it. Another lapse. The violent thoughts are tugging at my grasp on reality. I can't let that happen, especially in moments like this. Intimacy is supposed to build trust, and if I don't rectify this, I'll lose my sway over her, over all of them. "Shadowheart, are you alright? I didn't mean..."
She briskly slaps me across the face, "Be more mindful next time!"
I put a hand on my cheek and see she's giving me a playful grin. I respond with a half-hearted smile, "Next time? Sincerely though, I will be more present going forward. I couldn't help but lose myself in you. Please, let me take care of it." I reach out to touch her neck with a healing hand, but she pulls away.
"I told you I could handle you. Stop treating me like I'm delicate. You've been doing it since we met, and I'd hoped you'd know better by now." She ties her leggings back into place before leaning against the altar, watching me.
"I never doubted your strength, but I've clearly been far too polite. I'll be sure to be a bigger jackass going forward." I'm able to coax a giggle out of her. I pin my belt back into place and lift her onto the altar, sitting next to her so we can take a moment to ourselves.
I notice her softly soothing her neck, and she's glancing at me from the corner of her eye, wanting to say something but not knowing how to say it. "You know who I worship?"
I straighten my lips, and lean back, "It's uncharacteristic for a Cleric to be so guarded about who they worship, but when you worship The Mistress of Secrets herself, it's to be expected. Your distaste for Selune only further reinforced my suspicions." I reach over and tap the plate armor in the center of her chest, "Besides, your armour is clearly Sharran."
Shadowheart flushes, "I'd be impressed with your observational skills if I weren't so damned disappointed in myself for being obvious." She sighs and leans her head on my shoulder, "So you knew that defiling this altar would please Lady Shar, but then... why did you want to commune with her at all?"
I rest my head on hers in kind, "I was hoping the communion might give me a sense of whether Shar is the one who empowers me."
"I understand why you would think so, but the dark magic imbued by your God is acrid and violent. I honestly don't know what to make of it. Shar's power is a cold and silken void that embraces everything it touches." She speaks wistfully as she describes the sensation.
Her description is a perfect representation of the sensations of Shar. "It was comforting, despite it feeling out of resonance with myself. I'm glad to have experienced it either way." I let a moment pass before speaking again, "Were you really concerned about the grove? It seems trivial given Shar's tenets."
She considers my question, but is noticeably hesitant, "Of course not. I wanted to gauge your stance on the grove. It's refreshing to know such things won't stand in the way of our survival. I commend you for that."
She believes herself, but her cold ambivalence is poorly masked. "How long have you worshipped Shar?"
She sits up and looks at me, resting her hands in her lap neatly, "30 years. When I was young, I found myself lost in the forest, cornered by a dire wolf." She pauses, trying to cope with the fear stirred by the memory, but quickly tames it, "A group of Sharran's came forth and surrounded the beast, striking it down. I was an orphan, so they took me in and raised me, trained me, gave me a family. Lady Shar is the only mother I've ever known."
"You must be very important to her, to have gone through so much trouble to shepherd you." A lot of trouble indeed, for a group of Sharrans to stumble on a random orphan lost in the wilderness. I get a faint recollection of a Selunite ritual. Children are sent into the forest to fend for themselves and find their way back home. It's brutal, but an effective way to engender empathy for any aspiring cleric. If this is the case, the irony would be delicious. It's not lost on me that I know so much about different religious orders. Doctor? Priest? Warrior? Each new piece of me only serves to estrange me further from any sense of who I am.
She's comforted by my validation, "Thank you, I'd like to think so. I love her dearly."
Astarion leans into the room with that tone of his, "Are you two done yet? I want to get out of this stinking hell's pit."
I'd be shocked if I knew him less, "I'm surprised you didn't want to join the fun."
He gives me a wildly exaggerated shake of his head, responding in a sing-song tone, "Nooooo... touch my hair and lose your fingers!"
"Hah! Dramatic, every damned day of your life." I get to my feet and turn to help Shadowheart from the altar one last time.
Lae'zel storms in, her frustration reaching a fever pitch, "Enough! I tire of ferrying goblin guards. I will no longer stand idle while you cling to the half-elf, Vash. You've been far too indulgent, and your lack of discipline is causing me to rethink this entire alliance!" She stares daggers at Shadowheart and her words cut with the white-hot flame of jealousy.
I honestly had no idea she cared so much about me. Being handed opportunities like this is the highlight of my day. I turn to my little cleric with a broad smile, "Are we done with our stolen moment, Shadowheart?" She wrinkles her nose at me with a cheeky grin.
Lae'zel stiffens and shouts, "Enough! March, now!" We are all but pushed out by the raging githyanki, back into the throes of survival once again.