Content Warning: Graphic Violence, Character Death, Blood and Injury, Murder, Threats of Violence, Psychological Distress, Moral Ambiguity, Manipulation, Non-Consensual Mind Contact, References to Abuse, References to Necromancy
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 runs.

"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 confused. "Why does it not bother you? How can you be so callous?"

We're on the western trail, and she steps in front of me, stopping me in my tracks. "Bring her back right now, Vash."

Astarion bumps into me and grunts. "Do you have to stop in the middle of the path? Move aside!" He pushes me out of the way 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 my attention back to Bex.

She folds her arms, waiting.

Her disdain is making me uncomfortable. With a flourish, I pull Shovel back from the Abyss, wanting to be done with this.

She lands cleanly on her feet and sees me standing in front of her. She immediately begins jumping and screaming. "YAAAYYY!!! What will we be doing today, Master... Master..." She stops, her tail twitching. "Who is you?"

"Vash Neel."

She looks at me, bewildered, and scratches a spot on her head. "...Master Neely!!!"

Bex snorts, nudging me. "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's eye is fixed on a butterfly. It floats a little too close and she snatches it, biting into it before tossing the wings. "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.

I nod to Bex. "She's sturdy." Then turn back to Shovel. "Nothing as exciting as grave digging today, Shovel. 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. "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 seems satisfied. We walk together down the trail and I feel balanced with my new companions.

I feel Shovel shifting on my shoulders, sniffing the air. I keep my shoulders steady for her. "What happened to Ilyn Toth? Why did you leave Thay to come all the way out here?"

Shovel is distracted by the material plane, but finally answers. "Master Ily was proud to be a Red Wizard. Studied hard, Shovel always helped. Always! But he met a lady. Loved her. Stopped calling on Shovel as much. Shovel was stuck in the Abyss."

She hesitates, scratching her ear again, like a nervous tic. "Then lady was gone! Ily called on Shovel again, wanting to bring her back—truly back, 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 Ily. Shovel led Ily to stinking sewers. We escaped!"

Shovel stomps her feet on my shoulders, reliving the moment in her mind. "We walked days and days. Made it to Moonhaven! Ily 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 Ily died, cut down by Dark Just Jish-jishar. It was apprentice's fault. Apprentice snitched. Shovel tried to warn Ily, but it was too late."

Bex puts a hand on her heart. "That's so sad! All that effort, only to be struck down. What a waste."

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 the Abyss.

I feel her claws drag across my horns. "Yep! Soldiers on horses. Dark armor. Purple circle on chest. Helmets with wings. Like bat wings."

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 the tall grass.

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. "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 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 remember... Nettie's 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 runs from the tall grass to the bank, arms outstretched. "Aaawww... Shovel could've eaten that!" She stares forlorn across the water.

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?" My eyes drift to his.

He quietly and discreetly taps his nose. "I think we need to have a discussion later."

I stare down at him, flatly. "No. We don't."

Bex is suddenly alert and moves in front of us. "Someone's coming."

We see a plain figure making their way towards us. A human man dressed in leather armor over a modest tunic and breeches. His hair is ginger, long and 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. "We are monster hunters. A lot of superstition surrounds 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 company 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. "Him?"

Gandrel speaks 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.

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. "Give him a chance."

I get a barrage in response. "A chance?! 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 and I gestured down the path with my gleaming blade. "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 me. I don't work for Cazador. Astarion is under my protection. You're not going to lay a finger on him."

Another hum from Astarion's tadpole. "Awww, you're so sweet. But I can take care of myself, darling."

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!"

My blood cools with a familiar clarity. "There's nothing more valuable than dangerous friends." I take a step forward and he instantly shoots. I fall backward with a growl, the bolt snagging on my ribs. I rise to my elbows, pulling the bolt free and tossing it aside.

Astarion charges like a cornered rat, burying his daggers deep into Gandrel's chest. The broken wheeze that escapes him is the epitaph to his meager life. Humans are so damned fragile.

Bex tenses as the monster hunter falls. She looks at Astarion, startled and speechless.

He pulls his dagger free, face twisted with hate. "That was his chance." He calmly licks his dagger clean and sighs wistfully, as if it were pacifying his angst.

Shadowheart kneels next to me and touches me with a healing hand. I look up at her gratefully and grasp her hand in a small thank you.

As I get to my feet, Gandrel begins to convulse and foam at the mouth. Bex watches, horrified, and I am reminded that she is still very green. It doesn't take long for him to go pale and fall still.

She's gripping her hands and Shadowheart puts a hand on her back, soft and comforting. "It gets easier."

"Does it?" She says, trying not to sound as upset as she truly is. She then turns to 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 pull Gandrel's crossbow from his grasp and hand it to her.

She takes it, reluctantly. "I would have given anything for a crossbow like this… but I'm not sure this was worth it." The deflated woman in front of me is not hiding her broken heart.

I pause, considering my words carefully. "He was a monster hunter. He was not blind to risk in what he chose to do." She's staring down, eyes locked in place, lost in thought. Someone like her does not deserve to be so fraught. I feel my shoulders fall, and I gently reach out a hand. "...Would you... would you like a hug?"

She slowly looks up at me. "I can manage my own feelings. Thank you."

A gentle smile falls on my lips. "I have little doubt." I hold out my arms.

Hesitant at first, she sets down the crossbow, as if she only just realized she's entitled to a little comfort. She steps into me, wrapping her arms around me, taking a deep breath. She buries her face in my chest and I carefully embrace her. She takes another heavy sigh, gripping the back of my tunic. After a moment, she collects herself and pulls away.

She picks up the crossbow and lashes it to her back. Her face is flushed, and her voice is quiet, but steady. "Thank you... Vash."

In that moment, Shovel scurries up, soaking wet, Nettie's rotten meat clamped possessively in her little jaws. Seeing Gandrel dead on the ground, she pulls the meat from her mouth and cries. "NAUUUGGGHHH!! Shovel always misses the fun!!!"

I snort, amused. "Next time I'll be sure you're around."

She shrieks with glee and rips off another bite of Nettie. At least someone got to enjoy her, though I am a touch jealous.

Astarion clears his throat. "Your game meat."

I send out a pulse to him. "Be careful, spawn."

He touches my mind in response, reassuring, almost playful. "We all have our little secrets. Some deserve the right amount of care, and I can be very careful."

The corner of my lip twitches, giving him a knowing smile. He seems very pleased with himself. I'll have to remember vampires have such a keen sense for blood. "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 is staring at Bex, and speaks as if his mind is elsewhere. "Yes. He is my... was my master."

"Did you know he was going to send people after you?"

He's still lost in thought, a fog of frustration clouding his mind. "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 he sent one, he'll send another. Cazador is relentless when he sets his mind to something, and he has countless people in his thrall. Not just spawn, you know, but deluded hopefuls that will do anything for him." He's quiet for a moment, before speaking again, thoughtfully. "The one thing I don't understand is... why?"

I scan the trail ahead of us, considering this new revelation. "I'm not loving the idea of your past chasing us."

His head jerks, snapping at me. "I'm not exactly thrilled about it either, you know!" He suddenly withdraws into himself. "Is this the thing that finally gets me kicked out?"

"Do you think it's up to me to make that call?" I glance at Shadowheart who is focused and measuring the situation. She doesn't look like she's made a determination on the matter. "We can handle it if more come for you, but it does complicate things. When we finally make it to Baldur's Gate, what are you planning on doing about it?"

Astarion looks at me, shocked. "We?"

I meet his eye. "Yes. We."

He's looking up at me, lost for words. The silence stretches, and as we round the bend, we see a willow tree across the water, big enough to make a druid cum.

Bex goes wide-eyed as she tracks the sprawling branches. "I think we found it."

The banks are edged with meandering docks. The willow itself is rooted on a small island. It's not far from where we stand, but we're separated by treacherous waters. We split up and begin to search for a way across. Bex and I go left, Astarion and Shadowheart go right.

We don't need to walk far before Bex stops me and points toward a small rapid just down the way.

Shovel perches herself on a soft log along the bank and groans. "Hates the dancing water. Always filled with rocks."

We get closer and see it was likely the old crossing. The dock has long since eroded and collapsed. The only thing that remains is a trail of heavy stones and brittle planks just below the surface.

Bex murmurs. "Shallow water can be deceptively deadly." She glances up at me. "I have experience with this. Let me 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." She looks me up and down and wrinkles her nose. "Though that cloak could use a wash."

I give her a playful snort. "I promise I'll wash the damned thing tonight." I look across the water, and my lips straighten. "Take Shovel with you. I'll keep watch. Just whistle if you need me."

She kneels down and Shovel hops onto her shoulders. She scans the stones and hops across with nimble footing. She makes it to the muddy banks on the other side and I watch her scan the area. She walks up to the tree and, silently, I see something rising from the mud behind her.

I try to get a sense of what I'm looking at, until it shifts into a winged ghoul. A mud mephit.

"Bex!"

She turns and the thing flings mud in her direction, which hits Shovel and knocks her to the ground.

Shovel screams with rage and tries to wipe the mud from her eyes.

Without another beat, I dash across the river stones, but feel one shift beneath my weight. I slip, falling hard onto the stones. The rushing water arches over me, saturating my cloak, adding to its weight.

Bex darts to a vantage point near the tree, swiftly climbing an old rope ladder onto an embankment. She aims and shoots, hitting the mephit, battering off a wing.

It screams and falls unceremoniously. Three elder mud mephits emerge from behind the tree. Then I hear a haunting noise. The creaking and moaning of two knotted, root-like men stagger into view. Wood woads, driven mad by the intrusion.

The damned things give me the creeps.

I stumble to my feet, stepping clumsily onto the muddy bank. I concentrate on the tadpole and send an image to Shadowheart and Astarion. "Come east. Stones cross the river. Ambush. 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.

Shovel has regained her senses and runs forward, unleashing a horrifyingly hellish screech that paralyzes two of the mephits in fear. "Shovel will slap your cock off!"

A glop of mud is slung my way, and I duck. It hits me, but spatters against my cloak. A new young mephit has been summoned near me.

Red sparks volley from my hands, and I focus on the Weave. What can I do?

Batter.

I launch three missiles at the elder mephit that summoned the youngling. Each missile pummels it, and the elder mephit screeches, dark holes piercing its body.

A great levity consumes me as the arcs continue to surge. It almost feels like I could fly. I ignore the sensation for now and turn my attention to Bex. "Focus your attacks on the elder mephits! The young ones will break once their summoner dies!"

Bex raises her crossbow and shoots the weakened elder mephit. The creature ruptures into a cascade of useless muck, and the young mephit follows. I duck, spattered with mud once again.

Shadowheart and Astarion dash into the fray. 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 within. 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, and do your worst!"

Astarion runs to climb the rope ladder, but his foot gets stuck in the mud. He scoffs, frantic and annoyed. "For fuck's sake. Really?" He pulls three arrows from his quiver and tosses them up to Bex. "Don't miss, my dear, that's all you're getting for now!" He focuses on pulling his foot free.

She loads the crossbow and aims for a wood woad. The arrow whistles through the air and splits off the creature's arm. Another rasping cry, it catches fire and begins to flail.

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.

Tracking the theater around me, I see Shovel continuing to swipe at the elder mud mephits, though they've started dodging her assault, taunting her, and cackling as they fly just out of reach of her claws.

Shovel's voice changes pitch, as she grows increasingly frustrated. "Stinking shit bats! Come down so Shovel can kill you!"

They're distracted. With greatsword in hand, I charge, swiftly splitting a mephit in two and knocking another out of the air. It hits the ground and Shovel jumps it with pure quasit rage, clawing chunks of mud out of its face. "Shovel is vicious dragon!!!" She roars, tearing until the mephit falls still.

I attempt to target the last mephit but get blinded by a mud ball. I wipe myself clean only to see it charging Bex and Astarion. It nearly reaches Astarion when I catch up to it, snatching it from the air and ripping its wings off.

Astarion flinches. "Good gods!"

I fling the thing to the ground and stomp on it. With a squelch, it falls still.

Fucking elementals.

Astarion looks up at me. "Well... that was a choice."

I snort, catching my breath and coming down from my frustration.

The last wood woad lies a miserable husk, burnt to a brittle crisp.

Astarion finally pulls his boot free and Shadowheart walks over, smiling up at Bex. "Your bolts strike true! Well done." She glances at me with a slight laugh. "Can we keep her?"

Bex's face twists into a bashful flattery. "Thank you, Shadowheart."

"You see, Bex? You had nothing to fear."

She gives me a grateful smile. She seems... fulfilled.

The shadows are long, and the sun wanes in the sky. I walk over to the water and gingerly wash my face before scanning the island. I catch everyone convening in front of the tree. "We don't have much daylight left to search, let's set up camp, and return to this in the morning."

Bex approaches and pulls a kerchief from her pocket, handing it to me. It smells like chamomile, of course.

"Are you sure? It's going to get muddy."

She laughs lightly. "Please, it's seen worse."

We share a smile and I dry my face.

Her fingers drag down my arm. My hair stands on end. I return the kerchief and she matches my stare, taking it. She turns and joins the others.

I watch her go, feeling-"Master Neely has more death meat? He smells of death meat."

Shovel hops excitedly, searching me.

"What?" I sniff vigorously. Standing, stinking, and covered in mud.

I'm washing this damned cloak.

How embarrassing.