The morning sun breaches the horizon and beams down on my face. I stir, my body humming with the power of my Oath. My hand clutches the Deathstalker Mantle's edge, as if pulling it from my dreams. Having it brings me comfort, a breadcrumb trail for my sanity. I sit up, stretch, feeling my muscles sigh with relief. Across the fire pit my companions sleep blissfully. I should try to find Bex's body before they do. I glance at her bedroll, but something's off. Blonde curls...
My stomach convulses and I lurch, stumbling over to her and falling to my knees. I can't believe my eyes. Her chest rising and falling as she dreams away the morning. I didn't kill her. I didn't. My heart is pounding as relief washes over me. What happened last night? Where was she? I want to touch her, to be sure she's real.
My thoughts scatter. These feelings for her unsettle me, like I've never wanted anyone before. Maybe I never have. Deathstalkers naturally travel alone, luring and consuming in the name of Bhaal. This was my way, and it shows.
...but my feelings for this company have grown, despite myself. How do you keep people?
I'm a Godchild—though my blood may be diluted. You would think this would be easy for me. I need to show them the truth, that they'd be lost without me. I slowly stand, watching her for a moment more, thoughts collapsing into a singularity. Where is her place within the tenets of my Oath?
I hear Astarion wake first, his mewling voice unmistakable, even when he's yawning.
Sitting on a stone sunken by the water's edge, I hone my sword, whetstone gliding against steel. I feel the back of his cool hand tap my arm, motioning me to move over. I shift for him, and he sits beside me, looking over the river. I wait for a snide remark or sarcastic comment, but it never comes. He simply puts his hand over mine.
I break the silence in a gentle voice. "Can I ask you something?"
He's wary, and answers slowly. "I can't promise I'll have an answer."
"What did you see, when our minds were linked?"
He tries to hide it, but I feel him flinch. "You've every right to be curious, but I’d rather you hadn’t asked."
I wait as he considers his answer.
"Corpses. Piles of them."
A subtle breeze brushes past us, an echo of my own exhale. "I see." Glancing down at his pale hand, looking even paler against my pallid dark skin. "I'm sorry."
He snorts, "Sorry for what? For violent thoughts?" He grips my hand, and I can tell he's working himself up to something. He looks at me as if he's trying to remain wry, but a faint fear tugs at the corners of his eyes. "Don’t turn it on me again, if it's all the same to you."
That he trusts me enough to ask means something. He's hopped from the clutches of one violent man, and into the arms of another. "I'm working on it."
He leans into me, putting his head on my shoulder. "I know."
This is the danger of playing games. I can't tell if he's placating me because he fears me, or if he genuinely wants me. I'm not sure if he knows what he wants. I rest my head on his soft, wispy curls. The scent of bergamot and brandy seeps into me, with a hint of cadaver.
I hear a murmur come from behind as Bex and Shadowheart begin to rise. Time to put our faces on for the day.
I feel Astarion's shoulder's sink. "It had to end, didn't it?"
Sighing, I gently press my lips to the top of his head. He squeezes my fingers before getting up and glancing back at me with devastating poise. He stalks off, ready for the hunt.
Shadowheart and Bex are deep in conversation regarding battle technique. Shadowheart's training from her Sharran cloister is providing valuable introspection and I don't dare interrupt. Using the shadows as an advantage is far from a coward's strategy. The unseen warrior is a warrior that survives.
I prepare a modest batch of oats and acorns for them. Gale took the time to boil the tannins out of the acorns, not trusting me with a task as simple as that. I can't help but pop a few in my mouth before throwing it all in the pot of boiling water over the campfire. My mind lingers on Deathstalker strategies. Do I even remember? They aren't fighters as much as they are hunters. Find the damned, make the sacrifice. The strategy is determined by the prey.
Shadowheart drills in the details. "In the light, it doesn't matter if you think you're well hidden behind something, if you can see them, they can see you. However, eyes will adjust to light they're exposed to. The brighter the light, the darker the shadows. This is what gives you the advantage. You can be standing directly in the line of sight and still be completely hidden by the grace of obscurity. Just make sure you're not touched by reflected light. That can be a death sentence for those who don't understand the nature of light. It clings, mercilessly. It is in darkness we will vanquish our foes." She takes the bowl of oats I hand her and blows cool a spoon full.
Bex nods eagerly, also taking a bowl. "I would never have thought of that. You must have some interesting stories regarding shadow strategies. I can only imagine!"
Shadowheart smiles, thinking back on what she can recall. "I can dredge up a few memories, but those are stories for another day." She takes a bite; her mind stuck in the past.
Astarion walks back into camp, perky and satiated.
I gesture my spoon toward him. "Find anything good?"
He sighs deeply. "A bear... gods was it good."
Bex looks startled. "A bear? A whole bear? How in the hells did you take it down?"
His ego is stroked by his triumph. "Skills, my dear. I'm not afraid to use everything I have to get what I want." His eyes flick to me for the briefest moment. "Although it may have left me a little kiss I won't soon forget." He rolls up his sleeve to show a bite on his upper arm. Mostly healed.
I eye the scars. "Did you take one of our healing potions for that?"
Rolling his eyes and wrinkles his nose at me. "Don't get uppity, drinking blood has modest healing properties for me. Afford me the satisfaction of being a little reckless, Love, it keeps life exciting."
His playfulness is refreshing; it's been a heavy morning to say the least. I stand and glance at the others. "If we're ready, let's head back to the willow. The sooner we find what we need, the sooner we can be rid of this damned place."
As we walk, Bex grabs my arm. Her voice is perky, and she has a bounce in her step. "You were so adorable last night. I'm glad I could help you sleep. I'm sorry for leaving you there, but I didn't want to wake you. You seemed so peaceful."
I feel a flush from her bringing it up. I wasn't sure if any of it was real. I fell asleep next to her, and she left, that was all. A shame. It was the best sex I've never had. I look down at her and smile. "You're right, it was a very peaceful sleep. Thank you for that. Who knew willow trees were so cozy."
She grins as we come to the stones, then hesitates. The Chionthar roars, and the river seems to have swelled. The stones are buried deeper into the rushing waters. "This is... worse. Looks like there may have been a storm upstream last night."
I look at the treacherous situation and think for a moment. Then it an idea strikes me and I look at Bex. "May I pick you up?"
A stunned look crosses her face. "You're not jumping over these stones with me in your arms, we'll both end up in the water!"
I laugh, "That isn't my game, I promise."
She snorts and walks into me, reaching up to my shoulders. "I'm trusting you..."
I draper her over my arms as she locks her hands behind my neck. On the far bank, I conjure the image of a cat in a spark of red weave. "Keep in mind, the odds of me dropping you are slim... But never zero." She looks at the cat confused, then grasps as I lift off the ground and glide over the water.
Halfway over I pretend to let her slip and she gives a sharp yelp gripping me tighter. "Don't do that! My heart can't take it!" She's laughing with me as we land softly on the bank near the cat. I place her down and snap the cat out of view, grinning at her teasingly.
She punches my arm, and I breathe in sharply grabbing it. "Ooowww!"
"I can't deal with your dramatics, I swear. So, did you just casually realize you could fly? You do realize that's insane, right?"
Insane is the word, isn't it? "It's uncanny, really. Something so valuable, hidden just below the surface." I give her a cocky little smile. "I'm a storm sorcerer. I felt those short pulls of flight when I was casting spells before. I figured now what the right time to test it."
She nods slowly. "Over a rapid, holding your protégé. Fantastic plan. Thank you for that."
I chuckle and glance over at Astarion, noticing he's staring at me; arms folded with a toying pout. "Yes yes, wonderful discovery, now come get me!" He reaches out, making grabby hands.
"Coming, dear." I cast the cat again and fly to him. He leaps into my arms and wraps himself around my neck with a giddy smile. His fawning feeds me for better or for worse, and I welcome it. Flying across once more I place him down on the willow's bank.
He bounces excitedly. "This is fun! You're almost the least useless Paladin I've met!"
"Almost the least useless? That's quite a mouthful for a backhanded compliment."
Shadowheart is watching us and shakes her head, easily hopping across the stones. "I swear, you make things much harder than they need to be."
I laugh, "You can't fault us for having fun."
She bumps my elbow. "I can, and I will." Giving me a smug but charming smile.
"Brats. All of you. Enough of this, let's spread out and see if we can find anything."
With spirits high we begin to search. Astarion quickly finds a chest filled with some useful gauntlets that he packs away, when Bex calls over to us. "I think I've found something!"
She pulls out a dagger and begins to pry away some loose bark. I stand behind her. "I guess your scouting efforts last night really did give us the advantage today."
She's quiet and pulls out a slip of paper, unfolding it, we read it together.
Kagha:
Olodan has sent word of your progress; I am pleased that the Rite of Thorns has begun. I depart soon from Cloakwood to Baldur's Gate. Should you need further aid from my circle, now is the time to ask.
Once cloistered, the Emerald Grove will be the Shadow Druids' domain, and you its First Druid.
In Fladron's memory,
Archdruid Aelis
Bex's lips straighten. "Can't say that I'm shocked. But... why would the cloister want the Emerald Grove?"
"Conquest." I say in a low tone. This is the advantage I needed. All I need to do is bring some belligerent druids to heel, and I'll set up my crew for the rest of our journey. "We need to get back and figure out how we're going to confront Kagha." I feel a rush of satisfaction, that same crackling I've come to welcome. I can't allow such weak leadership to remain. I'm going to fucking kill her and savor every snap as her tendrils of life are severed by my hand. I want to make her suffer; I want the circle to feel her fear as she fades into oblivion.
...oblivion is too good for her.
There is a collective sigh and Astarion moans. "Thank the gods, the air here feels suffocating!"
I take the letter and tuck it neatly into my pocket, then ferry everyone back onto the path to the grove.
As we make our way back, I hear a commotion coming from the blighted village. There is a crumbling windmill spinning wildly in the distance. Goblins whooping and ululating in their way. As we breach the hill, I hear a shocked gasp come from Bex and she blows past me, breaking away from the group and confronting the goblins alone.
A goblin approaches her; his swagger is way cockier than it should be. I hear her shouting and wonder if I'll get to rupture this one under my boot, too. A pleasing caress of snapping weave crawls up my back. It's become addictive.
The goblin shouts with his unearned bravado. "Who do I think I am!? Fezzerk! I'm in charge of this party!"
"As the one incharge I am demanding you let that man go! There's nothing he could have done to warrant this!" The fury in her voice echoes through the village.
Fezzerk laughs in her face, "We don't bow to Tiefs, blowing in, thinkin' they have a right to boss us around! We're keepin' the pipsqueek!" He's armed with a Heavy Greataxe, clutching it tightly. White-knuckled, but hesitant. I feel the tadpole quiver at his presence. I have power over these wretches. They belong to The Absolute.
More words keep coming out of her mouth, like she can't see the danger right in front of her. "No! This isn't right!" Her eyes track the blades of the windmill. "I won't let this stand! Not without a fight!" Her voice is uncertain, but dutiful as she reaches foor her daggers.
I'm running now. It doesn't seem like either one of these idiots wants to fight, but they're pushing each other towards an inevitable clash. She might be able to fight off a goblin of two, but there is an entire horde behind Fezzerk. They'll tear her apart. How could she be so damned reckless?
Fezzerk swings his axe as Bex braces herself. What happens next is done quickly and without thinking. I push Bex firmly to the ground and catch the axe, my dagger severing Fezzerk's hand off in a blink, barely enough time to bleed. My whole body is tingling as he drops to the ground, screaming and grasping his stump.
The goblin horde that surrounds us watches with ire. I turn my focus on them and send a bolt straight through their feeble brains. The tadpole bends their minds in on themselves and the entire horde crumbles; screaming and clawing at their eyes. I hold up the symbol of The Absolute in my branded hand, my voice cracking with madness. "Stand down, or gods help me, I will rip you apart!"
Fezzerk flinches. "I-I'm sorry! We didn't know you were a True Soul!" He groans and rolls over.
I turn to Bex, asking firmly, admittedly frustrated at her needless escalation. "What's going on!?" My face falls as I see fear in her eyes. I ask in a softer tone. "Bex, are you alright?" Stepping forward, I gently reach out my hand.
"Keep away from me!!!" Her cry is shrill, and it rattles me to my core. My heart begins to race. Wait. I can fix this. No. Without another word she staggers to her feet and bolts toward the grove.
I take a few steps, wanting desperately to chase after her, but she quickly disappears. "BEX!" Fuck. Fuck... Astarion and Shadowheart finally catch up, oblivious to what transpired, but they stop when they see the frustration in my face. I take a sharp breath in, running my fingers through my hair, before turning back to Fezzerk. I'm not bothering to mask my feelings in the slightest. "Stop sniveling! What in the hells was that about!?"
He's cowering on the ground, still clutching his bloody stump. Curled in a ball, trying to protect himself from my presence. Goblins are so damned dramatic when they lose a body part. "W-We're just havin' a bit of fun before taking him to Moonrise!"
My frustration boils over. "Take who to Moonrise!?"
"Him!" Fezzerk points a shaking finger toward the windmill, and I see a gnome strapped to one of the blades. I take a long exhale and rub my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. I finally look back at the goblin. I can't hide how my body is twitching with agitation. I dress myself in a broad and threatening smile, my tone steeped in condescension. "The Gnome is mine. Get back to your duties."
He stammers, "B-But the gnome is..."
"I SAID GO!!!" The goblins scatter like rats. Fezzerk stumbles after the rest, blood trailing his retreat.
My glance snaps onto Shadowheart but feeling the lingering frustration I pause, wrangling back a modicum of calm. "Do you want to get him?"
She's holding the axe, trying to flick off the grasping goblin hand, but it won't let go. She nods, distracted. "Gladly." She glances up at the windmill. "That poor man." A blink of dark magic flares on the back of her hand and she winces, dropping the axe. She grabs her wrist and pauses. "Damn..." She glances at me and then quickly makes her way to stop the spinning blades.
Astarion steps next to me as I watch. "I see you've graduated from toes to hands. I'm proud of you. So... what did you do to the Ranger?"
The way he says that sends a chill down my spine. "What in the hells do you mean?"
I feel his eyes on me, I even hear the smirk in his voice. "She bolted. I saw her little tail disappearing toward the grove. I assumed you frightened her. You're very good at that, you know?"
"Am I? I admit, I got a little carried away. Who knows what she'll tell the tieflings once she makes it back to the Hollow."
Astarion feigns concern. "Heavens. What a conundrum. You know, if we burned the whole place down, it could solve that problem for us."
My eyes track his and he manages to coax a boyish smile from me. "A true mastermind. No, I'd hate to see a resource as valuable as the grove go to waste just because I have a shiftless vampire on my hands."
"Mmmm..." He nods at my mockery, not denying the accusation.
We hear a loud scraping sound as the blades of the mill come to a grinding halt. Astarion and I step closer, and Shadowheart emerges from behind the structure. To my chagrin, the gnome's blade has landed at the top. He dangles upside down, passed out, or dead.
I stare up at him before Astarion chimes in, exhausted. "We could just... you know... burn it down."
"Is Pyromancer our flavor of Astarion for today?" I say smirking.
He twists his shoulder at me, giving a flirty shrug, "Don't worry, Darling, you'll get to taste all my flavors before long."
Heat fills my cheeks. That one got me. I try to ignore the blush and pick up one of Bex's daggers. I appraise the ropes holding the Gnome. With a skilled flip, I launch the dagger at the Windmill blade, striking the rope, but it only unravels halfway. I glance over at Astarion. "If you could finish me off—finish the job..." I give a disapproving sigh at my slip.
A wide grin spreads across his face, and he pulls out his own dagger, dragging it down the sleeve of my cloak, "Whatever you say." I get goosebumps. He finally lets it fly, cutting the rest of the ropes. The gnome drops into my arms like a sack of flour. The bastard is denser than I expected, like being unconscious adds a few stone. He's a bald man with the kind of face that somehow makes him look both wily and conservative. His skin is dark blue, indicative of deep gnomes. Strange to see one on the surface, they typically live in the Underdark.
I lay him down flat and check his pulse. He's alive, but his blood pressure is low. Shadowheart already has a healing potion out, crouching next to him and pouring it down his throat.
His eyes snap open and he coughs violently, clutching his head, "NNNNGGGHHH!!!" A sharp gasp erupts from him, and he tries to scramble to his feet.
Shadowheart and I hold him down out of mercy as I try to soothe him. "Sir. Sir. It's okay, just breathe. You've been through a lot."
Despite our attempts to get him to settle, he stubbornly continues to fight us, "No! I must find Wulbren!"
Shadowheart holds his ankles as I grip his shoulders, "And you will, but you need to settle down first! Please."
He looks at us, his chest heaving. Panic and pain in his eyes. He slowly stops kicking and lays flat on the ground, "You don't understand..."
I nod reassuringly, "Then help us understand."
"Wulbren..." He says between breaths, then pulls a medallion from around his neck. Scuffed and smeared with blood. "He's been my friend since we were children. Lost. Need to find him. He's gone to the Underdark, I'm sure of it. Could be in danger."
We gently let him go and he remains laying still. I look at the medallion, "How can you be so sure that's what's happened?"
A chuff leaves him as if the answer was obvious. "I found his medallion near Rivington. Nothing good could have happened to him there. Likely taken by slavers. It's our lot in life."
The word Rivington sparks something within me. Muddied streets and Flaming Fist. Blood. So much blood. So much wonderful blood. It's the first notion I've gotten that speaks of home. Am I... From Baldur's Gate? I'll have to explore this further. "So, your plan is to run headlong into the arms of slavers for a man who's probably been dead a ten day? If you're eager for death, I'd be happy to offer my very merciful services."
He sits up, clutching his head. "Haha..." I watch him with empty eyes. He glances at me and recoils, sensing a renewed danger. He quickly climbs to his feet. "Ser. If I have a chance to find him, I'm going to take it, if I may." He dusts himself off, no longer making eye contact with me. "Now, if you don't mind. I thank you for the heroic rescue, but I must be on my way. You can take my pack as payment, but let's not cross paths again." He gestures toward a rucksack laid against the edge of the windmill's stony wall. With a curt bow the gnome swiftly stalks off.
Shadowheart and I slowly stand, actively watching a man choose a slow death. I turn back to her and sigh through my nose, collecting myself. "I need to head back to the grove to find Bex. Here, take a few of my things back to camp with you."
Astarion crosses his arms, scowling. "So, we're your pack mules now?"
I grab the gnome's bag and begin to unload my pockets. Potions, scrolls, daggers. The only things I keep on hand are a few healing potions, and the... tadpoles. I pull open the pocket where they are kept and notice one is missing. I search my other pockets and begin to pat my cloak down. "What in the hells?"
Shadowheart looks at me concerns. "What is it?"
I swiftly look at her. "I... I'm missing something important." I close my eyes and hold my hands up, calming myself, now's not the time for tantrums over missing tadpoles. I relax my shoulders and move past it.
I pull out the Necromancy of Thay and Astarion's eyes go wide, snatching it from my hands. "What's thiiiiiis?" The man has an uncanny nose for mischief.
"It's mine. Feel free to carry it back with you, do not damage it."
He clutches it, and I swiftly sling my greatsword around his shoulders. It nearly knocks him over, but he regains his footing. It awkwardly hangs loose around his body, and he shifts the strap to have better purchase across his chest. "Gods, the fact that you choose to wander around with this thing every damned day... I will never understand Paladins and their need for punishment. It doesn't matter how righteous they are, each one of them is a masochist." He glances at me. "Although you hide it less than others."
I smile and wrinkle my nose at him. "And I will be the most honest paladin you know."
He snorts and gives his new burden a final adjustment.
I remove my sabatons and bracers. Unarmed. Unarmored. I hand Shadowheart the rucksack and as she takes it, giving me a supportive nod. "Good luck speaking with her. Whatever the hells happen, hopefully she can get past it."
With everything packed between the two of them I return the nod with grace. "I'll meet you both back at camp."
I drift over the path like an eager specter. Tail curled in anticipation, hands twitching. I tuck them into my pockets, hiding my anxiety. I pity her for having commanded a madman's attention. I still feel the dream, as if it were real. The weight of her body in my lap, the warmth of her lips on mine. Her legs wrapped around my waist. Begging me. Begging for me. Screaming my name. I shudder. How was this seed of desire planted in my heart? Fate? Sadism? Or something as poetic as her beauty? Are there reasons for such things?
She's been a haunting presence since the moment I arrived at the grove. Fleeting fantasies fostered into fomented frustrations—I want to fuck her. I want to fuck her until she cries my name. I want Danis to break as he watches me fuck her. I want to see the hope leave his eyes as he finally understands his place.
I want her to want me.
A lot of work.