Expansion from Shifting Targets, not written to be a stand-alone but probably more or less readable without the original.
Not all of Gorion's children deserted him on the night that Sarevok came to claim his life. One young paladin was so brave, true and honourable that he could not flee while his father was murdered.
Afoxe was a difficult sort of bloke to ignore, at least that was how Imoen always liked to describe him. Others used less diplomatic phrases such as 'built like a brick privy' or 'has to steer clear of Dreppin's place because the cows get too excited when they see him coming.' In essence he was tall, muscle bound and extremely sturdy. From an early age Gorion's most naturally muscular ward had spent most of his free time combat training with the Master of Arms. Nobody was particularly surprised that he chose a martial career path.
What was unexpected was Afoxe declaring his intention to take holy orders, as a paladin of Helm no less.
"You are… erm… aware that Helm is a lawful deity?" Imoen had asked. Afoxe had simply cocked his head to one side and looked at her, puzzled, with his solid brown eyes. He had heard Helm's call in a vision and was determined to answer it. Gorion had ventured tactfully that while prophetic visions were an important guiding phenomenon in the life of any young adventurer, this particular type of vision should perhaps be treated with caution. The boy would not budge, however.
To be fair he met a great many of the criteria for a paladin. He was well intentioned for the most part, reasonably charismatic and strong. Though his courage had yet to be put to the test in battle, he had yet to turn a sparring challenge down and was known to fight on through injury. His friends in the guard house would praise his loyalty and honesty, and while he had attracted some interest from the local peasant girls he valued both his honour and theirs too highly to risk creating fatherless children.
Indeed, Afoxe was brave, true and honourable. All traditional paladin qualities. The problem was that a lot of the time he was also incredibly stoned.
The night of his untimely demise began with a simple misunderstanding. His foster father, Gorion, had told him that they were leaving Candlekeep for an expedition into the woods. He gave the young man instructions to acquire camping equipment and whatever 'gear' he could lay his hands on at short notice.
Now the problem with Candlekeep, was that unless you happened to be of a bookish and intellectual disposition there was not a great deal to do. Afoxe was strong and handsome with his quick dark eyes and curly black hair, so there had been the odd romance to occupy him. He was athletic too and had become an accomplished rider, though he was never permitted to ride very far. He had studied in the temple of Oghma and was reasonably well acquainted with the theology of the Sword Coast. Mostly he spent his time practising sword fighting with the Master of Arms and drinking with the guards, who were other bored young people. It was they who had introduced him to the joys of herbology.
It had changed his life. Indeed, the peculiar scented vapours of burning leaves had set him on the path to his chosen occupation. It was under their influence that the young Candlekeep orphan had his first vision of Helm. The great armoured deity had appeared before him, commanding him to take up a sword in his name and slay all of the evil basilisks occupying Reevor's Storehouse.
The sword, it transpired once the effects of the herbs wore off, was really a broom and the basilisks turned out to be an infestation of overly confident rats. Nevertheless, the newly-called paladin achieved victory in his quest and was rewarded with a small quantity of gold. From that day forth, Afoxe was Helm's man, upholder of honour and justice. However, when his father suggested a mysterious jaunt into the forest for no apparent reason and requested, in a nervous tone, that his son acquire 'provisions' Afoxe naturally assumed that the pair of them were off on a hippy trail.
Alas, acquiring the necessaries was proving to be easier said than done.
"Can't help you," said Hull grouchily. "Ever since the gatekeeper went on that vision quest and let Shank and Carbos into the castle, the captain has really clamped down on our fun. They search our bunks and everything. If I get caught with so much as a leaf, I'll lose my job."
"Bummer man," said Afoxe sympathetically, running his hand over his curls. "I guess that's why Gorion is taking us into the woods."
"Majorly," said Hull, with a pained expression. He was frowning at Afoxe from under his helmet as though something about the six-foot paladin's presence was giving him a headache. Afoxe nodded sympathetically. Apparently, or at least the other guards had told him, poor Hull had a bit of a crush on him. It wasn't reciprocated, but there was nothing the other man ought to feel this wigged out about.
"Hey, it's all good man, all good," drawled the paladin reassuringly, clapping Hull firmly on the shoulder. The smaller man stumbled sideways several steps. "I got your back. Told the other guards to lay off and be cool. Guys, girls, what difference does it make what you like? Support you all the way man, that's, like, what friends do."
"That's what friends do," echoed Hull, frowning. In addition to his headache he was now looking rather troubled and guilty. "I'm… a bad friend."
"Nah man, you're good. We're all good." Afoxe wasn't really sure what Hull was talking about but he didn't have time to dwell on it. Gorion was champing at the bit to be off, so he would need to get his 'supplies' quickly.
If nobody in the garrison was stocked, there was only one other reliable source in Candlekeep. He hesitated. Gorion had given him strict instructions not to talk to Zaviak anymore, and he was honour bound to obey. Rumour had it that the wild mage had been caught practising inappropriate illusion magic on the undead. Nobody quite knew what that meant, but imagination and rumour had filled in the gaps. Everyone had been giving him a fairly wide berth ever since.
Nevertheless, Helm tolerated disobedience to one's father in extreme circumstances, and in Afoxe's opinion this threat of going camping without 'supplies' certainly qualified as extreme. He sprinted around the courtyard looking for him, barging past Dreppin's cow and almost running into Firebeard Elvenhair. He did not stop nor slow his pace and was quite out of breath by the time he found his quarry.
Sat on the stone rim of the fountain was a wizard in tie-dyed robes. He was watching the moving water intensely through huge dark glasses. His hair was long and slightly unkempt. His large nose was dripping where water from the fountain kept catching on it. Between bony fingers he was holding a heavily stuffed smoking roll. Every so often he took a deep puff and blew out smoke rings into the air.
"Zaviak!" said Afoxe breathlessly. "I'm going to need as much of your stock as you can give me, here's all the gold I've got."
"What's the rush man?" asked the wild mage happily. He proffered his fat cigarette to the young paladin. Afoxe took it and took a long drag. His face slowly melted from anxious to mellow.
"Thanks dude, I needed that," he said.
"You came at the right time. I'm setting out tomorrow. Far out," Zaviak drawled contentedly.
"Where are you headed?" asked Afoxe, sitting down cross-legged on the edge of the fountain.
"Baldur's Gate man," Zaviak drawled. "You?"
"No idea. Gorion is, like, taking us on a quest but, like, no direction. We're not going to be, like, constricted by goals or destinations. We'll just be walking the Earth," said Afoxe.
"Righteous!" declared Zaviak, fist bumping the paladin.
"He sent me to get supplies. Can you hook me up?" asked Afoxe.
"No worries man, no worries," replied Zaviak. "I've got these new cookies. Got them for the guards because of all those searches of their bunks. See they just look like regular chocolate chip but they are heavy stuff. Heavy."
It was a pleasant, sleepy afternoon and time ticked on as the two men chatted by the fountain. Afoxe soon forgot all about Gorion, though he was starting to get a bit peckish. The conversation turned to the subject of Hull, his crush on Afoxe, and as more rounds of the smoking herbs did their work, Afoxe began to wax philosophical.
"Because I mean… what is love anyway?" asked Afoxe seriously. "I mean who says it has to be about sex, or being together or whether you're, like, a boy or a girl? Or a zombie in your case, I guess. I ain't judging man. In a way aren't we all in love?"
"You are so deep," nodded Zaviak. Afoxe nodded too, not really sure what he was nodding for at this point. "You've got wisdom man."
Afoxe nodded. Then Zaviak said something rather strange.
"But you've also got beauty," he said. Afoxe shrugged internally. Zaviak too? Wow. Zaviak… Hull… Clearly he was better looking than he gave himself credit for. Zaviak was not done, however. "But also ugliness. You're a woman, several women and a half-orc too. You're a paladin and a ranger, you're a fighter and a wizard man, and you're all just walking around all over the place. You're here talking to me, but you're also there helping Dreppin with his cow."
"You have, like, totally lost me," admitted Afoxe.
"It's the cookies man," said Zaviak, waving a half-eaten crunchy treat in the paladin's face. "Whenever I eat them… I can see all of you."
"Woah, those really are strong," grinned Afoxe. "Gimmie that."
He took a large bite out of the weird-tasting cookie and waited. He waited a little longer. He had almost given up waiting and was about to take his leave and find Gorion when suddenly there they were!
"That blonde woman, who is she? She's beautiful!" Afoxe cried, staring in awe at a six-foot fighter who was receiving a protection spell from Firebeard with an apathetic expression on her handsome face.
"You actually see the same people I do?" said Zaviak. "Awesome, I didn't know that the cookies could do that. Communal visions... pretty good stuff huh?
"I'll take every cookie you have," said Afoxe firmly, reaching for his gold.
Some time later Afoxe found himself out in the woods with Gorion. The light dappling through the leaves seemed somehow more intense than usual, though not in a bad way. He was far more aware of everything around him. Twigs crunching under his feet, birds singing, and all the cookie-people from Candlekeep were coming with them.
The first thing he had done was insist that his father try one of the cookies. Apparently they had the same effect on the monk as they had on him and Zaviak because he could clearly see the vision people too. Every so often he would talk to one of them, calling to 'Azile' not to wander so far away, telling 'Draxle' to stop fussing about the mosquitos, asking 'Freya' in an urgent tone of voice whether she had remembered to pack her chains for full moon. His father motioned for another cookie. Afoxe passed it to him slightly hesitantly. He had only eaten one and he was still hallucinating hours later. This would be Gorion's third.
"These cookies taste odd son," mused Gorion.
"That'll be the herbs Zaviak baked into them," drawled Afoxe contentedly, helping himself to a second. "Do you think the others would like one? I guess they probably can't eat since they're not real. I might offer Freya one anyway. Just to be, like, polite." At the mention of the blonde woman's name from Afoxe's mouth Gorion looked alarmed. Catching the sound of her name, Freya looked directly at Afoxe for the first time, and for a moment a puzzled expression crossed over her face. Yet as she looked questioningly at Gorion, her face relaxed, as though she had forgotten that he was there.
"Herbs?" Gorion looked suspiciously from the young paladin to the cookie in his hand and back again. He jumped in alarm, crumbs tumbling down his robes. "Spit it out right now!" he hollered.
Afoxe shrugged and spat out the cookie but Gorion continued freaking out. He started jumping from one cookie-person to the next, yelling their names and demanding to know whether Afoxe could see them. Had Zaviak seen them? He made Afoxe turn his back and asked whether he could still remember seeing them. Finally, when the trainee paladin had answered all of his questions, Gorion seemed satisfied and sat back down panting.
"Chill Da, I spat out the cookie," protested Afoxe. "It's all good man, all good. Just as well you, like, warned me before I ate the second cookie though. Zaviak must have got a bad batch or something 'cause you are tripping bad. Like, way bad."
"I… we're being hunted boy," moaned Gorion. "This isn't a camping holiday, we need our wits about us. I'm sorry, I should have warned you."
"Hey no sweat man, no sweat," drawled Afoxe. "It's all good. Helm, like, watches over us.
Yet if Helm was watching over them that night, he chose not to intervene. Flanked by huge lackeys a beast of a man in terrifying armour came striding out of the trees. Rain fell and lightning flashed as he demanded that Gorion hand over his ward or die.
"Run child!" cried Gorion.
Some of them began to run at once from their terrifying assailant. The armoured man ignored them. His attention seemed to be narrowing on Freya, the blonde warrior. She was incredibly striking, tall and had a bearing that seemed to dominate her surroundings. If someone were only going to notice one of the company, then it would definitely be her first.
"But Dad, they look dangerous," whined Freya in a rather puppy-like way. "If you'd just let me transform, just this once…"
"GET OUT OF HERE!" Gorion bellowed at her.
She turned and fled along with the one called Draxle, though none of the cookie-people seemed to be running in the same direction. Two of the others had not fled. One was a half-orc who was grinning at their attacker with anticipation, seemingly relishing the prospect of a fight. The other was a brown-haired ranger whom Afoxe had not noticed before. She had retreated to the treeline but was raising her bow ready to fire.
Afoxe stepped forward in the rain, raising his broadsword. Their attacker who moments ago had eyes only for Freya, was now fixated on him. His target seemed to have shifted seamlessly from her to the paladin. How could that be… unless…
"Nothing I can say will make you run, Afoxe," said Gorion. It was a statement not a question.
"Who are these people?" cried Afoxe, the falling water stinging his eyes and half-blinding him. "They're not really visions, are they? They're, like, real."
"They are your brothers and sisters," said Gorion quietly. "Innocents, who can no more defeat the armoured man than we can."
The paladin gripped his sword more tightly, his armour grinding. Lightning flashed in the distance as the armoured man and his party advanced on them, filling the air with malicious laughter. He made a silent appeal to Helm. Not for victory, that was clearly impossible, but that the others would be spared so that his sacrifice had meaning.
"Perhaps we cannot defeat him, but we can, like, give the others time to run," Afoxe said determinedly. Gorion nodded and patted the doomed young paladin's shoulder. "In Helm's name!"
"You know, I did some scrying and your original vision of 'Helm' was entirely herb-induced," said Gorion as father and son started forward together. "I always wondered why, from that point on, Helm let you wield his powers anyway." He looked up at his ward one last time. "And now I know."