"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 ear flicks. "Who is you?"

"Vash Neel."

She looks at me, bewildered, and scratches a spot on her cheek. "...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.

"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. 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?"

"Keep your eyes open. There's something off about this place. It feels touched by the Feywild."

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 soothing frog songs on the banks of the water. A butterfly lands on Astarion's sleeve.

He gasps and flicks his arm. It flutters away. "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! Why in the hells didn't you tell me sooner?!" I pull it out and pitch 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. "Are you going to make your hygiene my responsibility, now? I disrespectfully decline."

Bex begins coughing, holding her hand up to her mouth. "Well, that explains the smell. That is far more pungent out in the open."

"I'm not sure how I didn't notice the smell." I murmur.

He waves his hand in front of his face dramatically. "Well at least it's gone now… Tymora's Tits."

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

We see a plain figure making their way down the trail. 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."

"Sir," I say with a chuckle, "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."

"Him?"

Gandrel speaks with a grave tone. "I'm sorry to say there is a vampire spawn in the area. I have no doubt. I've been tracking him from Baldur's Gate. Why he decided to settle here is a mystery. He's apparently a very decadent man."

Astarion nods placidly, though I feel him tense.

I remain focused on Gandrel, sending a quick psionic pulse to Astarion, the first time I've dared touch his wretched brain since our unfortunate meeting. "Give him a chance."

What I get in response is an overwhelming barrage of polite expletives. "A fucking chance?! This man is going to stop at nothing to capture me. The moment he finds out I'm the spawn, one of us is going to die. I will NOT be taken back!"

The eye roll I give happens unconsciously, and a little too obviously for my comfort. "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 cold steel. "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."

"You misunderstand me. I am not with Cazador, I'm with Astarion."

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 makes a soft noise, stepping back. She looks at Astarion, mouth hanging open, shoulders high.

He pulls his dagger free; nose curled. "That was his chance." He calmly licks his dagger clean and sighs wistfully.

Shadowheart kneels next to me and touches me with a healing spell. I feel the blue light knit my wound enough to stand. I squeeze her hand and slowly shift to my feet, wincing as I grip the tender scar.

Bex turns her focus on Gandrel, as his eyes drift and he falls still.

Shadowheart puts a hand on her back. "It gets easier."

"N-no... no this isn't right." She steps away from us, and stares across the river.

"Bex?" My steps are careful as I move next to her. "Is everything alright?"

"I'm... I'm not sure." She's holding herself, her face is sunken. "Astarion... he's a vampire." She murmurs. "I didn't even know. I couldn't see it." Her eyes narrow.

Astarion steps up behind her and I hold my hand up to him. He stops and moves back.

"My whole life... I looked to the light of the companion in comfort knowing we were safe from the vampire hordes. Up until now I didn't think I'd ever met one." She turns to Astarion who is standing, brow pinched and arms folded. "But seeing you now for what you really are... I'm no longer certain..."

"Darling, we are everywhere. But obviously we aren't going to announce ourselves. The vampires in the thrall of Klav Ikaia existed under a different set of rules. My Master, or rather, my former Master... hopefully... was more inclined to use subterfuge rather than an outright invasion. I suppose it depends on the master. Being enthralled to an egotistical hellrider will get you a militant army of slaves, wouldn't it? I assure you, I am not one of them."

Bex drags her fingers across her neck. "Even so."

Astarion sighs and rolls his eyes, raising his right hand. "I swear, on my honor, I will not try to exsanguinate you." His eyes flick to me. "I don't have to."

A small smile creeps across my face as I meet his eye. I move to Gandrel's body and pull his crossbow from his grasp, handing it to Bex.

She takes it, reluctantly, feeling the weight in her hands. Her voice grows quiet. "I would have given anything for a crossbow like this. I'm not sure yet if this was worth it. But I suppose..." She turns her attention back to me.

I place a hand softly on her shoulder.

She hesitates before lashing the crossbow to her back.

Shovel scurries up, soaking wet, Nettie's rotten meat clamped in her little jaws. She stops, seeing Gandrel's body on the ground. "NAUUUGGGHHH!! Shovel always misses the fun!!!"

I snort. "Next time I'll wait for you."

She shrieks with glee and rips off a bite of Nettie.

"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 before turning my focus to Astarion. "Who is Cazador?"

He quietly watches the path. "He is... was... my master."

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

His brow becomes pinched. "I had considered the possibility, yes. I chose to live under the blessed delusion that he would leave me alone." He folds his arms and goes to speak again, but presses his lips together, remaining silent.

"Do you think more will come?"

Astarion scoffs. "If he sent one, he'll send another. Cazador is relentless, and he has countless people in his thrall. Not just spawn, you know, but deluded hopefuls that will do anything for him." He pauses and gently shakes his head. "The one thing I don't understand is... why? Why put the effort into bringing me back?"

"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 stares at me, and his shoulders fall. "Is this the thing that finally gets me kicked out?"

Shadowheart steps next to him. "Thralls we can handle. Monster hunters might be a bit trickier. Right now I don't see a reason to leave you in the wilderness on your own. We need you."

"Need me?"

"I agree with Shadowheart. As for the gur, I'm not worried. We'll just have to be vigilant."

Astarion looks at me. "We?"

"Yes. We."

He's looking up at me, lost for words. For once. Finally.

As we round the bend, a willow tree comes into view. Anchored neatly across the water. Big enough to make a druid cum.

Bex tracks the sprawling branches. "This must be it."

The banks are edged with meandering docks. The willow itself is not far from where we stand, but we're separated by treacherous waters.

"Let's look for a viable crossing. Shadowheart, Astarion, search the shore further west. Bex and I will follow the docks to the east."

Astarion watches us walk off, lips pursed. He clicks his tongue and follows Shadowheart.

I look down at her as we walk. "Bad luck, getting caught in the descent the day you arrived in the city."

"Yes." She says slowly, watching the river. "Bad luck." The crossbow shifts against her back as she walks, making a soft shuffling sound.

"How long were you in Avernus?"

Her lips press thin. "A year."

"I'm sorry."

She glances at me. "There's nothing you have to be sorry for. I just hope you never get the pleasure of seeing Avernus yourself."

"I have... seen Avernus."

"Have you? How?"

"It's tied to my amnesia, though how, I'm not sure." I look at my boots as I step carefully on the creaking wood planks of the dock. "The heat was overwhelming. Even as a tiefling. I can't imagine having to withstand it for three months, let alone the precious hour I had enduring it."

She scoffs. "An hour. Quite the fiasco."

I give a piteous smile. "My plight is not comparable in the slightest."

"No." She says quietly. "It's not."

Images of my hands around her throat flicker in my mind. I look at her neck. It's flawless. Long. Lean. Not a single blemish. My hands are tucked tightly into my pockets as we walk.

She stops me and points toward a small rapid.

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

"It was likely the old crossing. You can see some of the old planks caught in the stones." She walks to the edge of the water. "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 wrinkles her nose. "Though that cloak could use a wash."

"I promise I'll wash the damned thing tonight." I say tipping my chin down giving her a soft smile. I focus across the water. "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 ease, making it to the muddy banks. Shovel climbs down, and Bex scans the area. She walks up to the tree, checking the roots, and surrounding mud.

Silently, something rises from the mud behind her. I try to get a sense of what I'm looking at. It shifts into a winged ghoul. A mud mephit.

"Bex!"

She turns. The mephit flings mud at her, but it hits Shovel, knocking her over.

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

I dash across the river stones but feel one shift beneath my weight. I slip, falling hard, getting caught in the rapid. The rushing water arches over me as I try to regain my footing.

Bex takes the high ground on a nearby embankment. She swings the crossbow around, arming it and shooting a bolt. It hits 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. I return the kerchief and she matches my stare for a held moment before taking it and joining 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, but finding nothing.

I'll wash the damned cloak.