The peace of the evening was interrupted by Lae'zel's voice, breaking the tranquillity with her presence. "A fine evening, don't you think? The moonlight shines warmly on us. The breeze caresses our faces," she commented loudly.
Moonlight bathed the campsite, shining down through a wide opening in the ceiling of the spacious cavern they had set up their tents in, competing with the light cast by the twisting flames of the campfire. Ishta looked up from her meal to see Lae'zel standing over her, arms crossed and fierce features illuminated in the firelight. She looked around, as if searching for who Lae'zel was addressing, and noticed Astarion peeking up from his book with mild curiosity.
He was lounging on a pile of plush furs and cushions outside of his tent, reading through one of Gale's recovered crypt manuscripts. He took a sip from a silver goblet that glinted in the light and Ishta hazarded a guess that the red liquid sloshing around inside it was most definitely not wine. She couldn't help but silently pray that no one would notice his brazen consumption of blood - while also feeling frustrated with his reckless behaviour.
She turned her attention back to Lae'zel, giving a hesitant smile as she fidgeted with a half-eaten rabbit leg. "Um...good evening, Lae'zel. Yes, it's a lovely night," she replied cautiously.
But Lae'zel's response was far from positive. "Hideous. All of it," she spat, disdain evident in her curling lip as she surveyed the campsite.
Sighing softly, Ishta put her plate down beside her on the wooden bench. She steeled herself for an argument as she turned to face Lae'zel. 'Here we go,' she thought resignedly. "Faerûn isn't so bad. Give it a chance. I'm sure even a Githyanki can find beauty outside of the Astral Plane," she advised, trying to sound patient despite her frustration.
"I see naught but cowards cowering in their groves and grottos," Lae'zel retorted, her eyes narrowing as she spoke. "Flowering meadows and fecund soil have softened their minds and muscles. They rely on strangers' swords when they should be forging their own. The Tieflings do not even possess the courage to meet my eyes when they speak to me."
"They were probably just trying to be polite and not stare too much," Ishta suggested, rubbing her neck and attempting to diffuse the tension with a conciliatory smile. "You do look... unusual. Githyanki are rare in these parts."
"Yes, I expect I am your first," Lae'zel said, her expression unreadable.
"I know of Githyanki, but I'd never met one before the Nautiloid," Ishta admitted, her voice softening with genuine curiosity.
Lae'zel's tone was cold and dismissive as she replied, "Of course you haven't. They would have cut you from navel to neck if given the chance. You are no less alien to me than I am to you. I know of your kind, but I do not often encounter them. That large, fleshy nose of yours looks like a mistake."
Ishta's eyebrows raised in surprise and her cheeks flushed with a mix of irritation and dismay at Lae'zel's words. She heard Astarion snort into his cup behind her before bursting into a fit of coughing. Turning to shoot him a dirty look, she saw him holding a cloth to his face, struggling to suppress his mirth as he unapologetically met her gaze above the red-stained fabric.
"Yes - best to keep quiet, lest any drivel leak from your lips," Lae'zel sneered. She sniffed haughtily before adding "No matter. I do not intend to stay long in this place."
Trying to keep her composure, Ishta turned back to Lae'zel and said through gritted teeth, "Lae'zel, I am truly sorry - for so many reasons - that you are stuck down here with us." Her voice betrayed her suppressed irritation.
The Gith woman's fierce gaze locked onto Ishta, her intense stare momentarily softening as she looked upwards. Her voice took on a wistful tone as she sighed, "Would that I were doing battle up there, among the Tears."
Caught off guard by the sudden shift in her companion's demeanor, Ishta followed Lae'zel's gaze to the night sky. The stars shone brilliantly against the dark canvas, seemingly unaware of the tension between the two women below. Despite their differences, Ishta felt a twinge of empathy for the warrior's longing for a place that felt like home. The cool night air brushed against her skin, carrying with it the distant sounds of nocturnal creatures skittering through the cavern.
As quickly as her anger had flared up, Ishta found it dissipating in the peacefulness of the night. She took a deep breath, taking in the scents of woodsmoke and wet limestone. Making a conscious decision to be more tolerant she asked, "What do you mean by the 'Tears'?"
Lae'zel glanced at her with surprise flickering across her features before gesturing towards the moon. "Look above. Watch the moon cross the sky. The Tears follow behind it. Rocky bodies tumbling through the Sea of Night. One of them is my crèche: K'liir."
Ishta smiled warmly, feeling a connection to the warrior she hadn't expected. "I know them as 'The Tears of Selûne'. I've spent many nights under these stars and have often observed the celestial bodies you speak of." She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling a sudden sense of kinship with Lae'zel.
For a moment, Lae'zel's stern expression gave way to vulnerability as she spoke with an uncharacteristic gentleness. "Then perhaps you've unknowingly gazed upon my crèche, K'liir, as it tumbled past," she said, her voice laced with emotion.
"Perhaps," Ishta mused, her thoughts drifting to the countless nights she had spent under this same sky. "I would have paid more attention if I had known that one day I would meet someone who lived among them. Are all Githyanki from the Tears?" She asked, genuine curiosity in her tone.
Lae'zel nodded, a hint of pride in her voice as she straightened her posture. "Your curiosity is to be commended. Githyanki are hatched in crèches all throughout Realmspace. K'liir is one of many. It's there I first saw a kith'rak mount a red dragon. Where I slit my cousins' throats at the varsh's command."
"Charming. And here I thought my family had problems," Ishta remarked with a wry smile. She brought one leg up onto the bench and rested her chin on her knee, feeling more relaxed now. "Did you train only within the Tears?"
"'Only?'" Lae'zel repeated, incredulousness creeping into her normally stoic demeanor as she squared her shoulders. "My entire clutch battled Beholders within the Eye of the Sky's tunnels. We infiltrated a Neogi Spelljammer and decimated its crew. The Tears span Toril's sky. There is more to our realm than this grassy pebble, istik." Her words carried a weight of experiences that Ishta could barely comprehend.
"I'll just nod wisely and pretend to understand half of what you said," Ishta said playfully. "I wouldn't want to 'leak any drivel'." She tilted her head, amusement sparkling in her eyes.
To her surprise, one corner of Lae'zel's lips curled up into a slight smile before she quickly reverted back to her usual stoicism. The hint of a grin had added a touch of warmth to the stern planes of her face, softening her features for just a moment. "Enough of this. You're wasting your precious rest time," she huffed impatiently, turning on her heel with sharp, precise movements and striding away.
"Goodnight, Lae'zel," Ishta called out after her, her voice gentle.
The only response she got back was a dismissive "chk," but Ishta couldn't help but laugh softly to herself at the prickly nature of her strange companion. As Lae'zel disappeared into the shadows, Ishta shook her head in amusement and turned back to the campfire, grateful for the brief glimpse of emotion from the usually stoic warrior.
Mèirleach, the Raven she had bonded with earlier in the day, fluttered down onto the bench beside her. "You going to eat this?" He asked eyeing the rabbit leg on her plate.
Ishta smiled and held out the bone to him, "You can finish it for me if you want."
Mèirleach snatched it eagerly from her fingers and flew a short distance away, alighting on the ground and attacking the cooked meat with gusto. Ishta couldn't help but feel the Raven would be benefiting more from their partnership than her, but didn't mind. It seemed to be a common theme lately.
Astarion reclined leisurely, his crimson eyes glittering with amusement as he watched the Gith warrior disappear into the shadows beyond the campfire's glow. He sat up abruptly, placing his book on the ground beside him and setting down his goblet with care. It had been a daring move to collect some of the blood from his latest kill in an empty bottle and bring it back to camp. He wanted to savor at least part of his 'meal' in more comfortable surroundings, and mixing the blood with a little red wine would hopefully mask its true nature.
"I am enjoying the latest addition to our little group - Lae'zel is delightful. In a very 'look at me twice and I'll dismember you' kind of way, of course," he remarked, a playful glint in his eye as he leaned forward. His smile widened as Ishta let out a weary sigh and slumped her shoulders.
"She's... quite something, I'll give you that," Ishta said, rubbing her temple as if trying to ward off a headache. The flickering firelight highlighted the lines of exhaustion etched on her face. "She reminds me of one of my sisters sometimes - Áine is a cantankerous pain in the arse too," she added with a nostalgic smile, her eyes reflecting the warm hues of the fire.
Astarion chuckled softly, the sound blending with the crackling of the flames. "Ah, so you do have family after all. I must admit, I was rather surprised to hear that. I just assumed you were raised by wolves or something equally ferocious," he teased playfully. Settling back against his nest of cushions, he stretched out his legs and crossed them at the ankles, watching her with mischievous eyes. "Or perhaps you fell from a tree fully grown, complete with swords and a hero complex."
Ishta rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips. "Sorry to disappoint you, but my family history is far more mundane. Mother, father, two sisters, and a brother," she replied poking at the fire with a stick, sending sparks swirling into the dark night sky.
Astarion's eyes twinkled with amusement. "I feel sorry for the brother... if your sisters are anything like you," he quipped, his smile widening into a grin.
Ishta laughed, a genuine sound that filled the quiet night. "You mean if they are as stubborn, moody, and opinionated as me? Oh, he's had his fair share of torment, but he gives as good as he gets," she said, her expression softening as she thought of her family.
Tilting his head, Astarion smirked. "I was going to say over-dramatic, actually."
"Dramatic?" Ishta echoed indignantly, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow.
"If deliberately letting yourself get stabbed by a deranged Druid with a poisonous briar isn't dramatic, my dear, then I don't know what is," Astarion replied, his smirk widening.
Ishta shrugged nonchalantly, her gaze dropping to the ground as she watched her feet shuffle through the dirt. The corners of her mouth twitched slightly, hinting at a suppressed smile. "Nettie thought she was doing the right thing," she said.
"Right? She had no right!" Gale's voice erupted from the darkness, startling them both.
As he strode over to the campfire, his eyes blazed with fury and his hands clenched into fists. A flicker of annoyance sparked within Astarion at the interruption, but it quickly dissipated when he saw that Gale seemed genuinely agitated.
"I can't believe she poisoned you, tried to put you down like a dying dog without as much as a whisper of consent! How dare she snuff out life with as much thought as snuffing out a bloody candle!" Gale raged, his face flushed with emotion.
Ishta's gentle voice rose above his anger, trying to soothe him. "Gale, calm down. It's fine. I'm fine."
"I know," Gale said through gritted teeth. "I know you are. And yet... A few moments more, a few different words spoken. It's just that, had it been me... Had it been..." His voice trembled and he looked away, struggling to regain his composure.
"Gale, don't worry so much about it. I wouldn't have let her reach you. Just think, you could have had my enchanted bow after all if I'd snuffed it," Ishta joked playfully.
Gale's face darkened and his expression turned solemn as he scolded her. "How can you be so lighthearted about nearly dying? It's not right to feel the cold breath of death on your neck, then move on as if it was nothing but a soothing breeze. One respects life by fighting for it, and one respects death by fearing it," he said passionately, his voice low and intense.
There was something intriguing about Gale's reaction that caught Astarion's attention. He couldn't help but wonder if it had something to do with the Wizard's 'condition' that Ishta had told him about. Getting up from the ground, he walked over to stand beside Ishta, facing Gale. "Are you alright?" he asked curiously.
Gale glanced at him and nodded, though his eyes still held a shadow of worry. "Yes. Yes, I am. Though I could quite do with a tumbler full of Waterdeep Whiskey," he said, attempting a weak smile.
"Sorry, the traders didn't carry that blend. You have good taste, though. Could have done with a glass myself after the bitterness of the antidote," Ishta said with a smile, though Astarion could detect a hint of something else in her voice. Looking at her face more closely, he noticed that her smile seemed forced and her usually warm golden eyes now appeared dull and lifeless.
A surge of irritation rose within Astarion towards Gale and he silently wished for him to leave so he could be alone with Ishta again. Fortunately, it seemed that Gale had run out of steam; his outrage settling down to a tired resignation as he muttered, "The main thing is that we are alive...for now. And when we find this Halsin chap - with a bit of luck he has the means to offer us a cure rather than a coffin."
"He's never let me down before," Ishta said quietly, her voice carrying a hint of reassurance and trust.
Gale's eyes narrowed slightly, betraying his interest. "Little Miss Poison Ivy seemed to indicate that you know this Halsin rather well. Is that true?" he probed, his tone inquisitive.
Gale's question mirrored Astarion's own curiosity, and he looked expectantly at Ishta. But instead of answering, she seemed distracted, her gaze distant, and only nodded in reply as her fingers tapped restlessly on the bench she was sitting on. A Raven suddenly hopped up onto her lap and she began softly stroking it's head. Astarion gave the bird a cursory glance, vaguely remembering Ishta informing him about her new pet.
Cautiously, Astarion prodded further, hoping the answer wasn't what he feared. "How long were the two of you...together?" he asked nonchalantly, though his heart quickened with anxiety.
"Hmm? About a year, I believe," Ishta answered absentmindedly, her attention still focused on grooming the Raven perched on her legs. The soft sound of the bird's contented croaking mingled with the faint crackling of the nearby fire.
Astarion's thoughts raced as he processed this new information. 'Well, shit. And I just volunteered myself to go and help rescue him,' he mused, feeling a mixture of frustration and resignation settle over him like a dark cloud.
This Halsin might prove to be an obstacle in his plan to seduce Ishta. After all, there was nothing more romantic than a daring rescue to re-kindle old flames. With any luck the idiot Druid had already got himself killed, but if not... he had two shiny new crossbows that needed breaking in.
"I believe it would be wise for us all to turn in early tonight," Astarion announced, pushing aside his worries and heading back to his tent. "We have a long journey ahead and we need to be well-rested."
Gale nodded in agreement, thanking Ishta for her understanding towards his 'issue' before bowing and retiring to his own tent. Ishta remained by the fire, staring into the distance while still absentmindedly stroking the Raven.
As Astarion watched her from the corner of his eye, he couldn't shake off a strange sense of concern about her behavior. He almost walked back to the fire to check on her, but she abruptly stood up and made her way across the camp. She paused by her tent to grab her bow and quiver of arrows before disappearing into the dark forest with the Raven at her side. Astarion cursed under his breath, realizing that his plans for a late night feed would have to wait while Ishta was out hunting for herself. With a resigned sigh, he picked up his goblet and retreated into his tent, closing the flap and shutting out the world for another restless night.
The following morning after breaking camp and handing off the newly named 'Travelers Chest' to Withers, Ishta decided to take a quick detour to the makeshift training grounds. The Warlock swordsman who had aided them in defeating the Goblin raiders was said to be practicing there, and Ishta wanted to speak with him before the group departed for the Selunite ruins.
As they approached a small arena setup on one of the balconies overlooking the camp, Ishta's steps slowed as she took in the scene before her. Dismay filled her as she saw not only the human Warlock from yesterday, but also an adult Tiefling instructing a group of young children in combat techniques. They were attacking cloth and straw dummies with wooden swords, their faces determined and serious.
Her disbelief and anger surged through her veins as she strode up to the wooden railings surrounding the space. "You're teaching them to fight?" she asked, her voice trembling with emotion.
"It's that or teach them to beg for their lives," replied the pragmatic Tiefling man. "The Goblins will chase us all the way to Baldur's Gate, and these kids know it. They need to be prepared, however a warrior like you could lift their spirits."
Outrage flared in Ishta's eyes as she looked at the innocent children being trained for battle. "They're children! You'll get them all killed. Show them how to hide instead and teach the blasted adults to protect them."
The Warlock coughed discreetly, attempting to defuse the tense situation. "Perhaps we should lower our voices."
The young trainees had stopped their practice and were now looking at Ishta with wide eyes and trembling lips. She felt a stab of guilt in her chest as she gazed upon their alarmed faces.
The Tiefling shot her an annoyed glance. "Good job. Little ears hear far - I better take care of this." He walked away, ushering the children in front of him and casting one last disgusted look over his shoulder.
"That was handled well," Astarion commented with a slight smirk in Ishta's direction.
Feeling regret in her heart, Ishta lowered her voice as she turned to face the human Warlock. "I'm sorry, it's just... my people do not approve of using children as soldiers," she murmured apologetically.
He gave her a sympathetic look and Ishta noticed that, interestingly, one of his eyes appeared to be made of bloodstone. "I am not trying to turn them into soldiers," he reassured. "I am simply teaching them the skills they need to survive."
Ishta nodded, her anger slowly simmering down to a subdued acceptance. The sight of children being taught how to use weapons had upset her, but she could see the sense in it too; these were dangerous times.
"Well met," the man began, extending his hand. "My name is Wyll. The Blade of Frontiers at your—"
Suddenly, his eyes widened in shock, and Ishta felt that familiar twisting and squirming in her skull as their thoughts connected. She saw through his eyes as he ran through the desolate wastelands of Avernus. Just ahead of him, a diabolical figure with red skin and a single curled horn blazed with flames, wielding a bloodied greataxe.
"Hells' great fires - you were on the ship!" exclaimed Wyll.
Ishta's expression hardened. "Yes - and we both carry the same parasites. Who was that woman you were chasing in your memory?" she asked curiously.
"Shit," Wyll cursed, the realization sinking in. "You saw her: advocatus diaboli."
Ishta recognized the name; roughly translated as 'devil's advocate' - a champion in the Blood War between diabolical forces and demons. A formidable opponent for anyone to face; and Ishta found herself looking at the swordsman with newfound respect, taking in the scars adorning his face.
"Her name is Karlach," Wyll explained with grim determination. "She is an archdevil's soldier. I swore on my good eye to kill her. I tracked her through the Hells to the Mindflayer ship. But the damned Illithids infected me before I could end her. She's out there now, preying on the innocent. If I don't kill her, she'll leave behind nothing but a trail of corpses."
Ishta's brow furrowed in deep thought as she considered Wyll's words. The idea of a rogue devil on the loose was alarming, but she could only handle so many threats at once. "We are on a quest to find and rescue Halsin," she finally spoke up, her voice filled with determination. "He may have the ability to cure us of this infection." Her hopeful smile faltered for a moment before returning with renewed strength. "You are welcome to join us; we could always use another skilled fighter."
Lae'zel, who had been listening quietly, finally interjected with a measured tone. "Chk - a worthy ally, perhaps. But I will not waste time chasing devils while a tadpole feasts on our skulls."
Wyll met Lae'zel's gaze without flinching, his own eyes gleaming with determination. "Trust me, gith - I know the stories. Doomed to shed our skin and become Illithid. And they say there's no coming back." He shuddered at the thought before continuing. "I haven't sprouted any tentacles - least not yet, thank Balduran. Could just be good luck. But sooner or later, it's bound to run out."
He paused, taking a deep breath before locking eyes with Lae'zel once again. "But I've seen your people in battle. I reckon you are no mere warrior, but a godsdamned army. If anyone can overcome this tadpole, it's you." His words held a hint of admiration and respect. "I'd be a fool to let you turn your back. Pledge me your talents, and I'll pledge you mine."
Lae'zel's response was short and sharp. "Chk."
"I'll presume that's Githyanki for 'yes'," Wyll quipped with a small smile.
Ishta couldn't help but let out a small chuckle at the exchange. "Still trying to figure out the language," she admitted with a shrug, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
Wyll let out a sigh, his resolve firm. "However, I cannot go with you right now." His gaze drifted towards the group of refugees milling around the camp. "I swore to protect these people, and now they are being forced to leave here." He turned back to Ishta, determination etched into every line on his face. "If there is an impending Goblin attack, my place is beside them. I will not abandon them now."
Ishta nodded in understanding, respecting Wyll's loyalty and dedication to protecting those in need. "I understand," she said sincerely. "If all goes according to plan, you may be facing far fewer Goblins...ideally none at all. But if the worst happens, I'm glad they have you on their side."
With a final nod of respect, Ishta left Wyll to his duties, feeling a mix of admiration and sorrow for the heavy burden he had chosen to carry. Glancing at her companions, she reflected ruefully that it was one she understood only too well.
The next two days of travel were fairly uneventful, the group trudging steadily through the rugged terrain as they journeyed towards their destination. Astarion found himself relishing the freedom of the open road, with nothing but the wind in his hair and the sun warming his face. The once daunting forests now held a sense of comfort and invitation, with towering trees providing a thick canopy of shade during the sweltering afternoons and offering concealment for hunting at night.
He often walked beside Ishta, finding solace in her quiet companionship. While he had attempted to get to know the others in the group, Shadowheart remained distant and aloof, Lae'zel was intimidating to say the least, and Gale's incessant chatter about mundane topics quickly became grating. So Astarion was grateful for Ishta's presence - not only for her skilled protection, but also for her understanding of his need for quiet introspection.
During their breaks, Ishta would engage in lively conversations with each member of the group, sharing tales of past adventures and discussing plans and strategies for future challenges. She made an effort to understand each individual's strengths and weaknesses, always looking for ways to overcome any potential obstacles. Through these conversations, Astarion learned that Shadowheart aspired to become a Dark Justiciar one day. Ishta's expression had turned slightly concerned at this revelation, but she tactfully kept her thoughts to herself.
Watching Gale consume a magical item had been a fascinating diversion during their current break. The sun hung high in the sky, casting dappled light through the trees lining the road. Birds chirped softly, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves. When the group settled down for a rest and a midday meal by the side of the road, the Wizard had requested an artifact from Ishta. Astarion had no idea what to expect and found himself imagining the comical image of Gale tying a napkin around his neck and pulling out a knife and fork, ready to devour the item like a feast. But the reality was far less literal. With a gentle touch, Gale pressed the enchanted necklace to his chest, and a blinding flash of energy enveloped it before it disappeared into thin air. The light danced across their faces, leaving Astarion momentarily awestruck. It was a mesmerizing display, one that left Astarion with even more questions about the mysterious magical ailment Gale suffered from.
Ishta seemed to share his curiosity. As she knelt on the soft, grassy ground and re-fastened her leather hip bag, she looked up at Gale with a raised eyebrow. "Perhaps now you'll tell me what all this is in aid of?" she asked, her fingers deftly securing the bag's strap.
Gale shifted uncomfortably on the stone wall he was seated on, the rough surface scraping slightly against his clothing, and shook his head apologetically. "Grateful as I am, the course of our camaraderie is much better served by not taking that particular detour. Not just yet," he said, his voice tinged with regret. "Sincerely though: I understand I ask a lot from you with few answers in return, but in time, all will be told," he added reassuringly, his eyes meeting hers with a sincere gaze.
Ishta looked slightly disappointed, her shoulders slumping slightly, but she quickly composed herself, smiling sympathetically. "I'm glad you're feeling better now. Your condition sounds unpleasant, to say the least," she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
Shrugging, Gale brushed off her concern with a wave of his hand. "Oh, it's not so bad once you get used to it. And on the plus side, my tower in Waterdeep has never been so free of clutter," he said, a faint smile playing on his lips as he glanced at the group.
Astarion, reclined against an embankment near them, leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. "That condition of yours sounds like a very expensive one," he chimed in, his eyes glinting with curiosity.
Gale gave him a wry smile as he replied, "I obtained it in Waterdeep. Nothing there comes cheap," he said, a hint of bitterness in his voice.
A mischievous glint danced in Ishta's eyes as she stood up and folded her arms. "Well, that necklace could have fetched a decent sum of coin. I could use the money after outfitting all of you. What do you plan to do to compensate me?" she playfully demanded, tapping her foot lightly on the ground.
"Compose a thousand-stanza ode titled 'A Gale of Thanks and Adulation'?" Gale suggested with a twinkle in his eye, crossing his arms over his chest.
Astarion groaned dramatically and collapsed back onto the grass, throwing an arm over his face. "Please... anything but that," he moaned.
Peeking out from under his arm, Astarion caught sight of Ishta trying to suppress a laugh and felt a sense of satisfaction wash over him. Whatever sour mood she had been in during the day of the Harpy fight seemed to have dissipated, and had yet to re-appear while they traveled together.
Over the past two days, he had relished every opportunity to tease and banter with her, savoring the thrill that came when she responded in kind. He was also slowly starting to learn just how far he could push her with his flirtatious remarks. She seemed to tolerate them to a degree, but coming onto her too strongly would earn him a warning look and the mild threat of an arse kicking. It was all part of the fun for him, but the stakes of the game made it impossible for him to truly enjoy it. As each day passed, Astarion's initial fear that Cazador would forcefully recall him back to his side had lessened. Clearly the tadpole was blocking his masters ability to control him. However, the Vampire Lord had plenty of other means at his disposal with which to hunt down and recapture wayward Spawn.
Ishta was strong and capable enough to protect him, but Astarion couldn't be certain she would agree to help if she knew the truth about his nature and the danger it could bring the party. He needed her to form an emotional connection with him more than ever, it was the only way he could think of to ensure she wouldn't turn on him and betray him. He'd had difficult targets in the past, but the independent, perceptive Ranger was possibly his greatest challenge yet. If he'd been hunting on behalf of Cazador, she was the type of victim he would have simply tried to subdue and capture rather than seduce. Though, after witnessing her skills, he highly doubted he would have survived the attempt. Still, Astarion felt confident in his charm, good looks and perseverance, believing that given enough time, he could win her over. There was just one looming potential threat to his plan; in the form of an impending reunion with a captured former lover.
On the third day of their journey to the Selunite temple, the party came across a scene that would stay with them for a long time. As they rounded a bend in the winding road, they came across a pair of humans, a man and a woman, standing over a prone male Dwarf. The trio was armed and dressed in simple padded gambesons, faded and worn from frequent use. A sense of urgency hung thickly in the air, their voices sounding distressed and frantic as Ishta and her party approached. As they drew closer, the tension rose and the woman spun around, brandishing a sword towards them.
"You there. Not one step closer," she growled through gritted teeth, her eyes flickering with fear and protectiveness for the injured Dwarf at her feet.
A strange symbol, etched into the flesh of her face, began to emit an eerie glow. Ishta felt a stirring inside her, as if the tadpole within her was reacting to the symbol's presence. A chill shot down her spine as a wave of authority washed over her, reminiscent of the feeling she had experienced on the Nautiloid.
"Your friend there, his wounds look deep. I may be able to help," Ishta offered cautiously, stepping closer to the woman with her hands up in a placating gesture.
The man's face was etched with worry and desperation as he pleaded, "He's badly hurt. An owlbear got him deep. If there is anything you can do..." His desperate eyes darted between Ishta and the injured Dwarf.
"I'm keeping an eye on you," the woman said suspiciously, sheathing her sword but keeping her hand resting on the hilt as she narrowed her gaze at Ishta.
The wounded Dwarf locked gazes with Ishta, and she felt a familiar wriggling sensation pulsing in her mind. She welcomed his consciousness into hers and saw visions of his siblings - the two humans named Andrick and Brynna - flashing before her.
"Protect them," echoed the Dwarf's voice in her mind, filled with urgency. His pain-filled eyes shifted towards his companions. With labored breaths, he whispered, "She is a True Soul. Mind her. She will - she - she..."
With a final gasp, the Dwarf passed away with a wet, rattling sigh, his body going limp.
"Ed! Please!" Andrick cried out in anguish, reaching for the lifeless body.
"He's with the Absolute now," declared Brynna, her voice thick with grief but tinged with a sense of acceptance. She turned to Ishta with a mixture of reverence and uncertainty. "You're... you're a True Soul. Our brother was chosen like you. Do you have orders for us?" she asked, her eyes filled with both awe and apprehension.
"True Soul?" Ishta asked, her curiosity piqued. She tilted her head slightly, studying Brynna's earnest expression.
"What...? Are you... are you testing us?" Andrick blurted out in surprise. He took a step back, his face pale and confused.
"Perhaps I am. Well?" replied Ishta nonchalantly, crossing her arms as she waited for their response with a stern expression on her face. She prayed they wouldn't see through her pretense.
"A True Soul - like you - has been chosen by the Absolute," explained Brynna, finding confidence in her beliefs. "You speak with Her voice. Your words are Her command. She grants you the power to enforce Her will."
"Well done. Now, explain the Absolute to me," urged Ishta, her curiosity sparking.
"The Absolute is our goddess. She's going to rip down the old world order, start a new one. Then we'll be the ones with the power - well, you will firstly, True Soul. You don't need me to explain that," gushed Andrick, his enthusiasm growing as he spoke. His eyes shone with fervor.
"Oh, I like these two. All zeal and no brains," Astarion whispered aside to Gale, his lips curling into a mischievous smile.
"That fellow had a tadpole in his head, and they consider him blessed? Chosen? What madness is this?" Gale whispered back, shaking his head in disbelief.
"A simplistic explanation. You have much to learn about our faith, novice," Ishta remarked condescendingly, straightening up to exude an air of superiority.
"I'm sorry, True Soul. I... only repeated what I thought I knew. It seems the Absolute still has a great deal to teach me," admitted Brynna with a wavering voice, bowing her head in submission.
"Indeed she does. Now I suggest you both leave while you still can. You are alive, so keep it that way and go," commanded Ishta firmly, her tone unwavering and authoritative.
"And just... leave Ed? I suppose... I suppose he would want us to continue on - to find a way to honor his sacrifice," Andrick spoke hesitantly. He gazed down at his brother's lifeless form, his face a mixture of grief and inner turmoil.
"May the Absolute guide us," Brynna whispered, her voice barely audible.
Ishta's gaze followed the pair as they disappeared into the depths of the forest, a thoughtful crease forming between her brows. Her nagging fears about the parasites in their heads being connected to something more sinister were now solidifying before her very eyes.
Astarion's cynical voice cut through the silence. "Did you follow a word of that? True Souls? Absolute? They sounded deranged," he scoffed, his eyes narrowing in skepticism.
"They spoke of the 'Absolute' - same as that goblin, Sazza. It's intriguing," Ishta mused, tapping her chin thoughtfully.
Gale perked up at this new information. "Who is this Sazza?"
"I encountered an imprisoned Goblin last night who had been captured by the Tieflings. She kept talking about this 'Absolute' figure and how it would save her...at least until one of the guards put an end to her delusions," Ishta explained with a with a hint of irony in her voice.
As Ishta approached the Dwarf's lifeless body, a strange power seemed to emanate from it. It called to her with an irresistible pull, enticing her mind with promises of something valuable. A sudden sense of alarm washed over her as she tried to step back, but her limbs felt stiff and uncooperative. With a mix of fear and fascination, Ishta watched in horror as her hand extended towards the body and it began to rise from the ground.
"Er...are you intentionally doing that or should I be concerned?" Astarion's voice came nervously from behind her as he backed away from the floating corpse.
Ishta shook her head, gritting her teeth as she struggled against the unknown force controlling her actions. The Dwarf's head snapped to the side with a sickening crack, and one of his eyes rolled back to reveal a small worm-like creature with thin tentacles writhing out of the socket and floating towards her. As the tadpole squirmed in midair, Ishta held out a trembling hand and grasped it. And just as suddenly as it had begun, the hold over her was released and the corpse fell back to the ground.
Ishta's stomach churned as she looked down at the wriggling creature resting on her palm. Its thick body quivered and its tentacles probed the air and her skin, sending shivers down her spine. She fought back the urge to fling it to the ground and crush it underfoot. She suspected that its twin currently nestled inside her own brain was responsible for the disturbing puppet show she had just been forced to participate in, and shuddered at the thought.
Shadowheart's voice cut through the unsettling moment. "That tadpole wasted no time in abandoning its host. Not sentimental creatures, clearly," she said with a coolness that only slightly masked the disgust on her face.
Gale cautiously approached and peered at the tadpole. "I wish mine would give up so easily," he said wistfully before giving a wry smile to Ishta. "Though without requiring such extreme motivation, of course."
"Let's forget it for now and keep moving. The less I think about that thing swimming about in my skull, the happier I'll be," Astarion complained, his expression mirroring Ishta's revulsion.
Agreeing with a weak nod, Ishta added, "I was rather hoping to not lose my breakfast this morning, but looking at this might change all that." She reached into her bag with her free hand, retrieving a small glass bottle and uncorking it before unceremoniously dropping the tadpole inside and sealing it shut.
"Why do you insist on keeping such vile creatures?" Lae'zel asked with irritation evident in her voice.
"It's always good to have live specimens for experimentation purposes," Ishta replied matter-of-factly as she placed the bottle in her bag alongside another one she had collected from Halsin's lab earlier. Squaring her shoulders, she nodded towards the road. "Let's keep moving. We still have a lot of ground to cover before nightfall.
Astarion inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with the cool night air. The scents of the forest overwhelmed him - the sharp tang of pine sap, the earthy aroma of fungi and damp leaves, and the sweet fragrance of night blooming flowers. Despite missing the hustle and bustle of city life, he couldn't deny that the wilderness had a much more pleasant bouquet than the stench of unwashed bodies and sewage that permeated Baldur's Gate.
After helping set up camp, Astarion had made sure to check that Ishta would not be hunting before taking a few hours to rest. After regaining some energy, he had ventured into the forest in search of something to sate his hunger. Earlier around the campfire, there had been an awkward moment when Gale offered him food. Usually, Astarion could make excuses to 'eat' in his tent during mealtimes, but this time everyone had gathered together for a meal before setting up their tents. Thankfully, after years of practice, he had become skilled at pretending to eat.
Consuming solids wasn't the problem - he still had a functioning stomach after all - it was keeping them down long enough to avoid suspicion that was the tricky part. After excusing himself from the group, he had snuck off to violently throw up in the bushes, regretting wasting what had surprisingly been a delicious meal. The fact that he could actually taste it was a testament to the Wizard's cooking skills, if even his cursed palate could discern a flavour. Of course, that could also have been the tadpole's doing. Unfortunately, emptying his stomach contents had left him feeling even more hungry.
Astarion's keen eyes caught sight of fresh deer tracks in the soft ground and he followed the trail with practiced ease, his feet moving with silent grace over fallen leaves and twigs. The hunt was a satisfying diversion, not only for its promise of sustenance, but also for the way it allowed his instincts to take over. He moved like a shadow, blending into the natural landscape as he stalked his prey.
As he neared the clearing where the deer grazed in oblivious tranquility, Astarion's predatory nature asserted itself. His muscles tensed, ready to strike at any moment. Like a predator on the prowl, he crept closer and closer until he was within striking distance. In one swift motion, he pounced upon the unsuspecting deer and grappled it down to the ground. Sinking his fangs deep into its neck, Astarion felt a rush of pleasure as warm blood filled his mouth. He relaxed his tense muscles and savored every drop, enjoying the primal satisfaction of filling his belly.
But his moment of triumph was interrupted by a loud cawing sound that shattered the tranquil atmosphere. Startled, Astarion looked up from the deer's neck with blood trickling down his chin to see a large Raven stood in front of him, staring with sharp black eyes.
'Shit...is that Ishta's bird?' he panicked, scanning the area frantically for any signs of the Ranger.
Seeing nothing alarming, Astarion turned back to the Raven as cocked its head and looked back and forth between him and the deer, almost as if it were contemplating something. He desperately wished he knew the 'Speak with Animals' spell and felt a knot of fear in his stomach at the thought of the wretched creature telling Ishta about what it had seen.
"Nice bird. Come here for a moment and you can have some juicy eyeballs," he coaxed, holding out his hand and hoping it would understand him.
The bird gave him a look that Astarion could swear was one of suspicion, but it ruffled its feathers and cautiously hopped closer. Suppressing his excitement, Astarion waited anxiously as it approached him. Just as he was about to grab it, the bird must have sensed his intentions and jabbed him sharply in the palm with its beak, drawing blood and causing him to recoil in pain. He cursed under his breath as the bird flapped up into a tree and scolded him with loud croaks and caws, flapping its wings indignantly.
With a final mocking caw, it took off and flew in the direction of the campsite. With dread creeping over him, he chased after the Raven, hoping to catch it before it could report back to Ishta. Just as he thought he had outrun it, the bird plunged down out of nowhere and aimed for his face. Instinctively, he shielded his eyes with a hand and stumbled over a tree root, crashing to the forest floor. When he looked up, the Raven was gone without a trace. With a heavy feeling in his chest, he picked himself up and hurried back towards camp, praying that he could still somehow prevent the truth from being revealed.
As he cautiously approached the edges of the camp, Astarion's heart sank at the sight of Ishta still awake. She sat by the warm fire, her copper hair illuminated by the dancing flames, engrossed in conversation with Shadowheart. To his dismay, the Raven suddenly swooped down from the sky and perched on Ishta's knees. A feeling of dread washed over him as he watched the agitated bird let out a series of loud croaks and clicks.
Without being spotted, Astarion slipped into his tent and rummaged through his belongings for a cloth to wipe the blood from his face. Panic seized him as he realized the inevitability of what was about to happen - he would have to reveal his true nature to Ishta. He had hoped to keep it hidden for longer, not wanting to risk losing her trust so soon. Sinking dejectedly onto his cot bed, he buried his face in his hands and tried to calm his racing thoughts. The thought of being banished from the group, after becoming so accustomed to their companionship and protection, filled him with despair.
Suddenly, Ishta's voice called out from outside his tent. "Astarion, are you in there? Can you come out for a moment, please?"
He closed his eyes briefly, steeling himself for what was to come. As a bead of sweat trickled down the back of his neck, he stood up and nervously straightened his clothing, checking for any traces of blood on his shirt - not that it mattered now. With a forced smile plastered onto his face, he took a deep breath and stepped out of the tent to face Ishta's questioning gaze.
His facade faltered momentarily as he saw the Raven perched on her shoulder, its beady eyes coldly fixed on him.
"Ah, my favorite traveling companion. What can I do for you?" he asked with false enthusiasm, trying to hide his nerves. But as soon as the words left his mouth, he mentally scolded himself. 'Too much! Tone it down you idiot...'
Judging by the raised eyebrow and throat clearing from Ishta, she may have thought the same. "Mèirleach has just informed me of something I would like to talk to you about," she said slowly.
"Oh did he now..." Astarion replied, glancing at the feathered nuisance. If birds were capable of smirking, he had no doubt that this one would have been doing so as it returned his gaze. "And what might that be?" He tried to maintain a nonchalant tone, but his heart was pounding in his chest.
"He told me that you promised him some deer eyes and then attempted to catch him instead," Ishta said sternly, though there was a sparkle of amusement in her eyes. "He did not appreciate being deceived in such a manner, and I would prefer if you refrain from teasing him in the future."
Astarion resisted the urge to let out a sigh of relief as he realized his fears had been unfounded. He felt a wave of embarrassment wash over him as he reflected on how silly he must have looked, worrying about being caught by a mere bird. Of course it wouldn't know what a Vampire was, all it cared about was scavenging from his kill.
With a flourish, Astarion bowed theatrically and said with mock sincerity, "Please accept my most humble apologies Mèirleach. I simply didn't want you to start pecking at the carcass before I had finished... butchering it."
The Raven tilted its head and let out a harsh, guttural croak, clacking its beak for emphasis. Ishta's lips twitched as she struggled to suppress a smile, and Astarion gave her a questioning look. "What did he say?"
"The avian equivalent of 'feck off' I believe," Ishta replied with a grin.
"How charming," Astarion muttered sarcastically, but couldn't help but crack a small smile himself.
Ishta reached up and scratched the bird's head as she warned, "I'd be careful around him. Ravens are worse than I am for holding grudges, so it's best to keep an eye on your belongings from now on." She turned to leave, a mischievous smile playing across her lips as she added, "You're not the only thief around here anymore."
Astarion couldn't resist a snarky response. "Good to know. Although, I must say, I am the better looking one of course," he called out after her.
"Debatable," Ishta's playful reply floated back to him as she stopped outside her tent. She waved goodnight to Shadowheart, who was laying out a bedroll beside the crackling fire, before disappearing inside.
Finally alone, Astarion let out the huge sigh he had been holding back and entered his own tent. He threw himself onto the cot and lay on his back with an arm over his eyes, chuckling softly in a mixture of relief and disbelief at how worked up he had gotten over a mere bird. Not for the first time Astarion wished he could control his emotions better - a fatal flaw that Cazador took pleasure in exploiting. Perhaps it was his inability to fully conceal his feelings that made him the favored victim of his sadistic master. After all, what's the point of tormenting someone if you can't see and hear them suffer to the fullest extent?
Pushing down the rising dread that always accompanied thoughts of Cazador, Astarion forced himself to relax and concentrate on falling into a trance. The ruined temple awaited them in the morning and he wanted to be well rested for whatever dangers lay ahead. As he drifted peacefully into the reverie, Astarion could never have dreamed that that before the night was over, he would be facing the cold hand of death.