Past the wall and the gate was what might've been a paradise for people looking to become one with nature. The whole place seemed to be built into an enormous cave system on the outside of a cliff overlooking the edge of the massive river to the east. Every other surface was covered in flowering vines, giving the whole place a pleasant herbal scent, and here and there were trees with some fruit at the highest branches yet unpicked, that must have given a bountiful harvest when they'd initially bloomed.
Deeper in the cave, Taylor could see oxen grazing, but also wolves pacing back and forth as if on patrol, walking right past the oxen without either one seeming to care about the other. A bear was snoozing away on a large rock overlooking a natural staircase leading down towards the beaches, and a flock of birds flitted here and there, their cheerful tunes mingling with the orchestra in Taylor's mind. There were dozens of horned figures that she could see from here, including a surprising number of children. One of them men who'd just returned from the gate attack was playing tag with them, even.
"A druid grove, then," Gale spoke up, nodding to Durge. "Better than a bandit camp, that's for certain." Durge shrugged but didn't reply. "Right! We need supplies, a place to stay for at least tonight, and permission from the First Druid to take shelter here. If nobody minds, I'll be seeking out the First Druid, I've some experience with places like this."
"I'll accompany you, I know how to comport myself," Shadowheart replied. "I imagine their best healer won't be far. We'll need to see if they're capable of removing these things," she added, in a low tone.
Durge spoke next. "The beach provides both access to fresh water and also represents a possible point of attack on the grove. I'd wager they would be willing to allow us to be the first line of defense against nightly incursions." Without a word, Lae'zel gravitated to Durge's side, intending to join them in checking out the beach. Wait, that meant-
"I suppose that leaves you and me to handle the shopping," Astarion said, glancing at Taylor. "Let me do the talking, I've got far more experience than you haggling with merchants," he said, another smirk graced his face. She didn't really want to go shopping with him, but she certainly didn't trust him enough to give him all their money and loot unsupervised, so she tagged along.
The group handed over what they had that they didn't need, including a small collection of gold and silver coins, before splitting up to go their separate ways. Taylor fell into step next to Astarion as they made their way to the caves bustling with activity.
"I'm not sure," Taylor replied, eyeing him. "You dress like someone who's had more money than sense for so long that they wouldn't know a good deal if it bit them in the-" neck "-ass. How long has it been since money was a concern for you? Years, decades...centuries, perhaps?"
"Centuries?!" he gasped, affronted. "Honestly! How old do you think I am?!"
Taylor shrugged. "I can't imagine it would be easy for anyone to tell - even you. When's the last time you looked in a mirror and thought you'd aged so much as a day?"
His smile didn't waver an inch, and he shrugged cheerfully. "I suppose I can admit, I've not noticed any change in my reflection in...well, quite some time." He preened for a moment, before glancing past her; there was a very short and stout man tending to several boxes of supplies.
The man looked up from his work and gave a weary smile. "Refugees, adventurers, travelers...nobody in years, and then suddenly we're overwhelmed," he says with a slight sigh; Taylor feels an undercurrent of frustration in his voice, but it was well-masked. "Thank you for dealing with the goblins, it would've been terrible if that scouting party had escaped to report our location. Unfortunately, I can't offer much in the way of supplies - we're looking to stock up before the ritual is completed - but if you've something to sell, we've got a nice bit of gold we can trade you for anything usable."
"Ritual?" Taylor asked.
The man's face tightened for a moment. "The tieflings are not terrible guests, regardless of others may say, but they strain our resources. It would be one thing if their stay was brief, but the recent increase in goblin raiding parties have made it dangerous to herd a large group of civilians through. Sylvanus blesses us with excess, to be able to provide aid to those in need for up to a week before it begins eating into our reserves...but it's a been a month without them able to move on towards Baldur's Gate, with no signs of a change any time soon. Our guests send out hunting parties to try and stretch what we've got as far as they can, but it just attracts more attention towards our little paradise...as you saw today."
Taylor frowned. He hadn't actually answered her question. "That sounds like what's provoked the ritual, but not what it's actually about."
"It would seal us off from the outside world, a barrier of impenetrable thorns that lasts a year and a day. A horde of goblins could build a mountain of bodies failing to breach the barrier, but it works both ways; anyone inside is trapped. We're building up supplies so that we have enough to survive on our own for a year, as well as giving the refugees whatever we can before they head out. And if they don't head out...well, the circle leadership has not instituted this with their safety in mind. If they are still here when the Rite Of Thorns is carried out, nature will...take its course."
His meaning was horridly clear. "You'd kill them over this?"
"I don't want anyone dead," he snapped, before wincing. "But we don't always get what we want. The First Druid has a point - it's not a question of if there's death, but when and how. Either we're discovered by the goblins and lack the energy to fight them off again and again, or we stay hidden as our reserves dwindle to nothing and everyone goes hungry. If the tieflings stay here, they're protected and fed for longer, and maybe the goblins ease off. If they leave now, they're taking risks for no reason. The ritual is being done to give them a reason to take the risk - making it clear that we are putting the safety of the grove and the circle ahead of outsiders, if we are forced to choose. It's not ideal, but in trying times, nature prevails - people always look out for themselves and their own." He didn't look happy about it, not one bit.
"Too right," Astarion said, almost startling Taylor (who had forgotten he was standing there the whole time). "Well perhaps we can do each other a favor. We've got a good supply of goblin arms and armor. We're keeping the food we've found, meager though it may be, but the weapons and armor could be broken down for base materials." He raised a hand to forestall an incoming interjection. "Not the metal ones, of course - I recall that's an issue. But I'm certain I could trade some of that to the tieflings further in."
The two of them settled into a rhythm, haggling for price over one item after another. Taylor had to admit, Astarion really did know what he was doing in this regard. He had a good eye for quality and seemed (to Taylor's admittedly-untrained eye) to have a good guess at what things were worth in relation to each other. Where he tended to fall apart - and the other merchant was more skilled - was when they switched from discussing one item to another, and it seemed as if they agreed-upon price flew out of his head entirely. Arron was pulling a classic car salesman trick on him, keeping the conversation moving before locking down any individual price. Fortunately, Taylor was able to cheat, using bugs to keep track of what items had sold for what, and whenever she noticed him trying to pull a fast one, she'd interject a reminder for Astarion's benefit.
It took her about five times to realize what was actually happening: every time she interjected, the merchant's eyes flicked to her for a second, grabbing his attention. In that moment of distraction, Astarion's hands would almost flicker. If she hadn't had bugs practically outlining all the key points of his body, she would've dismissed it as a trick of the light, but no - he was nicking things from the boxes that hadn't been agreed upon. He was forgetting the agreed-upon deals on purpose so that she could distract the druid from his sticky fingers. Astarion shot her a look, and she did it a few more times; they were almost finished selling off all the wood and leather anyway, it wouldn't make that much more difference.
As the two of them walked away, packs lighter and pockets heavier, she shot him a look. He smiled and said "Nature prevails."
Taylor frowned. "Yeah, in these trying times."
Astarion scoffed. "Oh don't listen to that codswallop. I've been walking and talking for a bit over two hundred years, and I can tell you for a fact: the times are always trying. He's just been tucked away in his little corner of paradise, missing most of it, and one teeny little goblin horde has them losing their minds!" he huffed, before stopping a moment to really look at her.
"I imagine this is before your time, but here's one of the worse decades I've experienced. 1487, a portal to the Abyss opens in the Underdark. By the time all is said and done the demon lord Demogorgon was stomping around in Menzoberranzan, with 40000 innocents - and 20000 drow - caught in his wake." Taylor ignored his blatant racism. "1489, dragon cultists pop out of the woodwork and lay siege to multiple metropolises for inscrutable purposes, threatening hundreds of thousands of lives. 1491, four separate elemental cults join forces to tear apart the world with natural disasters for inscrutable purposes."
"1492, right at the start, several things all happen at once: first, the open lord of Waterdeep disappears, having embezzled a million dragons from the citizenry, and criminal gangs start tearing the city apart looking for any pittance of that he might not have been able to carry away with him; second, Elturel up and disappears into thin air, and it's eventually discovered than the vampiric infestation driven off 50 years earlier had been a favor from the archdevil Zariel, who took the entire city as payment; third, giants all across the world start encroaching on civilization, stealing everything they can get their hands on...or just killing anyone who crosses their path, for inscrutable reasons of course."
"This was a particularly bad decade, but not entirely outside of expectation. This is just the way things are; we're lucky if there's only two continent-spanning apocalypses a decade. There's always another cult, another war, another interplanar invasion, another elder god losing their mind. They've got nothing to complain about here. He wasn't wrong to call it paradise, I doubt the outside world spills in here half as often as it does the cities."
"I'm not disagreeing with any of that," Taylor replied quietly. "It's still not right to treat people that way. He gave us money for what looked to be really shitty weaponry. He didn't have to take that deal, especially when you started talking up their value. But what's done is done. The druids here will be fine missing some gold they already told us they don't need, but I'm not covering for that shit if you're gonna rob refugees. They've got elderly and children with them, they need what they can get. We'll get good deals, sure, we have to think of ourselves...but no five-finger discounts."
The two of them stared each other down, and Astarion was the first to look away. "I can agree to that, at least. I refuse to get snookered, though." Taylor nodded her agreement, and they continued towards where a small market had been set up.
First stop was a young tiefling man named Dammon, who was busy working a rudimentary forge with wooden tools. He was happy to take all the metal off their hands, and after some short discussions, they managed to get some armor that Taylor could wear around comfortably - a gambeson and chain shirt combination, similar to what Shadowheart wore in function (although her armor her had fancy flairs that Taylor's did not) - as well as a basic spear for her to at least give the appearance of a trained combatant, so she wouldn't be the obvious weak-link in the group. She also got a dagger, less for fighting and more for utility - you could always use a pocket knife.
Second stop was an older woman, also a tiefling. She was busy stirring a pot of stew when they met her, but she was apparently the closest thing the refugees had to a quartermaster - she had a lifetime keeping a house of children and grandchildren under her belt and it lent itself well to tracking supplies. She had some spare tents and blankets she was willing to part with for a fair price, and Astarion found her tougher to haggle with than the previous two merchants. Nonetheless, he kept his word, and paid her fair and square for every bit of it. She even gave Taylor a bowl of stew for free, saying she needed some meat on her bones. Its flavor was...an acquired taste, to be sure, but it was filling and warm and the first real meal she'd had all day, so she thanked the woman.
The third stop...
"Well aren't you just adorable, petal! I could just eat you right up!" The old woman pinched her cheek cheerily. Taylor felt this one almost as soon as she entered the grove; she was even more infested than the goblins, with a twisted form like that of a tall hunchback. But the woman standing before her was short, stick-thin, and didn't seem to have a single bug on her - even as Taylor could feel them swarming through hair that felt far greasier than it looked. Her song was a chant, low and quiet, and Taylor couldn't make out the words. "Call me Auntie Ethel, everyone does." The woman glanced between her and Astarion. "Feeling under the weather darlings? Or do you just not get enough sun? Whatever ails you, I'm sure I can treat it. I've lotions and potions galore!"
Astarion and Taylor glanced at each other, and his meaning was plain. He wasn't sure if she could be trusted, or even effective. Taylor wasn't sure about the former...but the latter was a distinct possibility, which means they couldn't just turn her away out of hand. [She's more than she looks. I don't know what she is, exactly, but I think that means she's under a strong illusion. Maybe her magic can help us too?]
Astarion gave Ethel a charming smile. "Our condition is a bit...rare. But if you're willing to listen..." and he proceeded to summarize how they'd come to have parasites in their heads.
The whole time, the old woman made appropriate noise and gestures of condolence, but her voice had an edge to it that was familiar in all the wrong ways. It was the same tone Emma had when she felt she'd found something new to skewer her worth. "How awful!" she gushed, fussing over the two of them. "Unfortunately, I've nothing here that can help with that, but I don't bring my best stuff into town, so-to-speak. Most of the good stuff is back at my home. I'll point the way, and maybe I can meet you there and do something about that nasty little parasite you've got."
Taylor tentatively accepted without actually promising to visit - merely saying they'd keep the possibility in mind. Thankfully, Ethel didn't take insult at that. As the three bid their goodbyes and made to walk off, Ethel grabbed Taylor's shoulder. "Careful of that one, petal. He seems the type to take liberties in the night. Best sleep with that dagger close, just in case," she advised Taylor quietly.
"Already on my to-do list," Taylor replied, holding the woman's gaze. Was this a general warning, or did she know for sure what Taylor only suspected and hadn't yet proved?
Auntie Ethel smiled, and Taylor couldn't help the shiver that ran down her spine - she could feel bugs in the woman's teeth. "Good girl. Off you trot!"
The two of them made their way down the natural stone staircase, past a pair of tieflings fiercely hugging and also chewing out a child who was probably theirs. They passed the circle where several druids were busy chanting around a wooden idol, with green mist rising into the sky around them. Through the stone archway, down the mountain path, down towards the river's beach. There were several bodies scattered around the area - winged women dressed in bones, from the looks of it.
"Harpies," Durge said, upon noticing where her attention was. "They lure people to their deaths with magical song, and are either barely sapient or extremely primitive. Too close to people for most to stomach eating them, but I bet the druids will appreciate an easy source of meat for their boars and bears."
Taylor nodded shakily, not liking how Durge spoke as if they thought it was stupid to pass up on a meal like this. "We got some tents and blankets. We might need to double up for a bit unless people are fine sleeping under the stars. Also, a possible lead on a way to get these things out. Speaking of which..." Taylor looked to Gale and Shadowheart questioningly.
Gale replied, as expected. "First Druid Kagha was...of mixed feelings about additional mouths to feed, but was receptive to us earning our share by acting as night guards against aquatic incursions." Shadowheart huffed, muttering something under her breath. "And if I may editorialize a touch, I feel she's a rather unpleasant sort we'd be well-advised to avoid interacting with unless necessary."
Shadowheart spoke up now. "As for healing, they've got a skilled adept mending broken wings and legs, but she's not up for a task like this. Demonstrably," she said bitterly. "One of the raiders that's attacked the grove included a drow, who bore a parasite similar to ours. He didn't survive the operation attempting to remove it by force, and I doubt she'd have the skill to do the job even were we more cooperative than he was."
"Not all hope is lost, though!" Gale added cheerfully. "On either front, actually. You see, Kagha is a temporary replacement; their usual First Druid went out on an expedition to scout the goblin camp searching for a lost artifact of some kind. That group we saved at the gate were escorting him there but weren't expecting just how numerous the horde would be. They lost a couple men, including the druid Halsin, as they were running back to the safety of the grove. According to Netty, the resident healer, he's far more skilled than her, and may be able to remove the parasites and put our skulls back together, no harm done."
Shadowheart seemed to disagree. "He was present when they tried on the drow, and still failed. Unless you're suggesting practice makes perfect based on pure optimism?" She shook her head, before turning back to the Taylor. "You said you had a lead on another possibility?"
"In the grove, what looks to be an old human woman. She runs the stand selling potions, both ingested and topical," Astarion replied, before looking at Taylor.
"She's under heavy illusion. She's several inches taller than she looks, with a hunchback, and absolutely filthy. That's just a feeling though - I didn't actually pierce the illusion visually. But she's definitely not what she seems."
"Hag," Durge, Gale, and Shadowheart all spoke in unison; Gale continued. "That's not to say I doubt she can do it - in fact I would wager she absolutely can - but you have to be careful dealing with faeries, no matter who you are, and now matter how nice they may act. Even well-meaning fey can present a solution that's worse than the problem it solved." The others nodded their agreement.
"The only dependable solution is the zaith'isk" Lae'zel bit out. "The fey may be capable but will ask too high a price. A devil or demon would be no different. And anyone else would be fumbling around in the dark, playing with things we gith have perfected over two thousand years."
"Then I've some bad news for you," a strange voice called out. They all turned to face the path back up towards the grove. The man who'd joined in the fight at the gate gave them an easy smile. "Wyll Ravengard. The Blade Of Frontiers, and professional monster hunter, at your service. From what I overheard, I feel confident you all bear tadpoles as well?" he asked rhetorically, before tapping his own temple. "I got picked up while hunting down a devil. She's still my priority, but I've reason to believe she's heading the same direction we are."
He turned his attention to Lae'zel. "One of our scouting parties encountered a gith patrol, and managed to overhear their position. There's an old monastery to Lathander out west, deep in the mountains. The primary route is taking the Risen Road up through Moonhaven, past the Selûne temple and Waukeen's Rest, and across the great bridge that lies beyond. Just one slight problem: that whole area has been seized by the goblins. They've gathered a horde together under the banner of a new goddess called The Absolute, and more allies seem to pour in every day - if their raids coming further and further afield are anything to judge by."
He took a seat on a log near the fire. "Any route that avoids them will be going the long way around, and won't be a nice convenient road. You'll have to slowly hack your way through the wilderness along a more treacherous and much longer path...and I don't think any of us can afford to waste time. The easiest path is not around, but through." He paused a moment. "If you don't mind helping me find the devil hiding along our route, I'd be happy to lend my steel to the cause. We can cut a path through the goblin camp, take out their leadership to scatter the horde so they don't rally after us, maybe save the missing druid, and clear the way for the tieflings to make their way to Baldur's Gate. A good deed that serves our needs, what more could you ask for?"
Taylor thought it sounded too good to be true, but Lae'zel was nodding along. "We will go slow and steady, to ensure we are not overwhelmed, but it slows us far less than if we avoided them entirely. They shall fall before us."
The conversation continued for a bit, going in circles discussing the pros and cons of the options available, but in the end the most viable path was going to war with an army against the seven of them. Most of them didn't really share Wyll and Lae'zel's confidence, but they could see how fruitless other options were. As for Taylor...
Taylor felt the bugs within her range as they talked - not just insects, but spiders and mites and shellfish even. It wasn't just the seven of them, not if she stopped holding back. How bad could it really be? Maybe it wouldn't be great for the insect population in this one spot, but the world was a big place. Here, deep in the forest, at the tail end of summer before winter could freeze them all, and within spitting distance of a druid's grove where predator and prey slept side-by-side, bugs were numerous. Not counting all the ones so small and slow they were only useful for feeding her army, the sea of stars in her head numbered in the tens of millions. A hivemind of one.
[People always look out for themselves.]
[The times are always trying.]
The words came back to Taylor, as if whispered into her mind. Part of her was unsure if she was ready to kill. Another part reminded her that she wasn't starting this fight - the goblins were amassing an army, and it's not like they were being content to stay in one place. They'd taken over part of a major trade route, hunted everything nearby for food (including people!); there was no way they weren't going to cause a tragedy if left to grow unchecked, even assuming the tieflings could stay indefinitely. Another part of her reminded her that she already had blood on her hands, having already killed or at least contributed heavily to the deaths of at least a half-dozen living, thinking, feeling creatures. She was not quibbling over a binary kill/don't kill, merely determining how thick the blood on her hands was.
Taylor volunteered for first shift keeping watch. She was the best equipped for it, and found she couldn't really sleep yet anyway.