"We don't stand a chance!"
Ishta, focused on stacking arrows, paused for a moment to look at the Tiefling woman who had spoken with such fear in her voice. Her crimson skin was drained of colour, her tail flicking nervously as she surveyed the scene before her. The scent of burning pitch mingled with the earthy smell of freshly cut timber, creating a heady mix that seemed to cling to every inch of the grove.
Even the usually serene trees seemed to bristle with anticipation, their branches rustling in the breeze as if eager for battle. In the distance, the clash of metal against metal echoed through the grove as weapons were hastily distributed among those gathered.
Ishta gently set down her bundle of arrows and approached the trembling Tiefling woman. Despite the chaos and fear that swirled around them, Ishta's heart beat steadily with determination. She had seen enough death and despair to recognize when someone was on the verge of breaking. Kneeling down to meet the Tiefling's eyes, Ishta spoke in a calm but commanding tone.
"Hey, look at me," she said firmly. "What's your name?"
The woman's breath caught as she tried to focus on Ishta's face. "Z-Zaara," she stammered weakly.
"Zaara, let's take a deep breath together," Ishta instructed, inhaling slowly through her nose and holding it for a moment before exhaling. After a few moments, Zaara followed suit, her breathing still shaky but starting to steady. "Good. Now again. That's it."
As Zaara's breathing became more even, Ishta continued speaking, never breaking eye contact with the Tiefling woman. "It's okay to be scared. In fact, I would be surprised if you weren't. But right now, we need you here. These barricades, these weapons - they're going to protect the grove, protect your people. We need every hand we can get."
Zaara nodded, tears welling in her eyes. "B-but I'm not a fighter. I don't know if I can do this."
Ishta reached out and placed a reassuring hand on Zaara's shoulder. "You don't have to be a fighter. Your job is important too - help us prepare the defences, make sure those barrels are ready, and then get yourself to safety in the caves. Leave the fighting to me and the others."
The Tiefling woman swallowed hard, her tail coiling tightly around her leg. She looked over at the barricades where others were working frantically to strengthen them, fear etched on their faces. But beneath that fear, Ishta saw a glimmer of determination.
Zaara turned back to Ishta, her voice steadier now. "Okay. I can do that."
"Good," Ishta said with a reassuring squeeze of Zaara's shoulder before standing up. "Everyone has a role to play. Just do your best with yours."
As Zaara joined the workers, Ishta stood tall and surveyed the bustling grove. The tension was thick, like a heavy weight pressing down on every soul present. But as she watched the Tieflings working together with purpose and grit, she also saw something else - a fierce determination to survive and protect each other. It was fragile, like a flame dancing in the wind, but it was there - and she would be damned if she let a pack of Goblins snuff it out.
Ishta's sharp gaze scanned the chaotic scene of the grove, searching for a familiar face among the Tieflings bustling about. Her eyes landed on Wyll, who was helping a group of them haul a particularly stubborn log into place. Despite the tension in the air, Wyll wore a determined, almost defiant expression, his hands steady as he guided the others in their task.
Even from a distance, Ishta could sense the uneasy glances that some of the Tieflings were throwing in Wyll's direction - lingering just a moment too long on the twisted, horned silhouette that now defined Wyll's once-human form. It was a subtle display, an attempt to hide their discomfort, but Ishta could feel it like an electric current pulsing through the already tense atmosphere.
Wyll caught her staring and for a brief moment their gazes locked. He offered her a small, tight-lipped smile - a brave effort to reassure her or perhaps himself that everything was alright. But Ishta knew better. The traumatic transformation had taken its toll on him, though he had said little about it since it occurred.
The memory of the previous night was still fresh in her mind like a bitter aftertaste. They had been setting up camp for the night when the air suddenly grew eerily still. And then without warning, a circle of flames erupted from the ground in front of them. The shadowy figure that emerged from within was none other than Wylls patron - the she-devil Mizora.
Mizora's presence had been suffocating, her voice dripping with sadistic glee as she recounted Wyll's failure to uphold the terms of their pact. Ishta remembered how Wyll stood there, tense but resolute, his jaw clenched in stubborn defiance. He had defended his decision to spare Karlach's life, arguing that he had only been tasked with hunting fiends and demons - neither of which Karlach was. But with insufferable smugness, Mizora simply recited the clause that sealed Wyll's fate: 'Targets shall be limited to the infernal, the demonic, the heartless, and the soulless.'
The heartless... Apparently Karlach met this criteria by virtue of the infernal engine that resided in her chest in place of a beating heart. The realization was a crushing blow for Wyll and Karlach, but Mizora wasn't finished yet.
Ishta had watched in horror as Wyll fell to his knees, enveloped in flames, a guttural cry of agony escaping his lips as his body twisted and contorted. His forehead split open with a sickening crunch as large, curved horns burst from within. His neck contorted unnaturally as jagged ridges erupted down its sides. And when it was finally over, Wyll was left panting and trembling, his body covered in sweat and shaking as if he had been flayed alive.
In that moment, Mizora smiled - a cruel, satisfied smile - before disappearing into an inky black portal beneath her feet and vanishing into the earth. Leaving behind a stunned and silent group of witnesses.
Ishta had rushed to Wyll's side, but he had pushed her away, insisting that he was fine. She knew he was lying though - knew that the pain of his new form went beyond just physical. It was a wound to his very soul, a constant reminder of the life he had once lived and the steep price he was now paying for trying to leave it behind.
Ishta's heart swelled with admiration and sympathy as she watched him in the grove, his determined posture a stark contrast to the pitying stares of the onlookers. She knew all too well the battle he faced, having fought it herself countless times in the dark corners of her own mind. But now was not the time for self-pity. Ishta shook her head fiercely, willing her thoughts back to the task at hand.
Her footsteps echoed along the makeshift wall that had been hastily constructed by exhausted Tieflings, their anxious faces betraying their fear of the impending battle. The spikes jutting out from felled trees were jagged and crude, but they would serve their purpose in blocking the sight lines of enemy spellcasters and preventing them from teleporting behind their defences. As Ishta continued her walk, she took in every detail of their preparations, committing them to memory.
She stopped beside a barricade where a Tiefling named Kaldani was frantically lashing together spikes with thick ropes. Sweat glistened on her brow and her hands worked swiftly, driven by a sense of urgency that hung heavy in the air.
Another Tiefling named Asharak stood nearby, watching Kaldani's efforts with a mixture of practicality and regret. "It's a shame we have to destroy so many trees for this," he commented quietly.
Kaldani paused in her task to look up at him, her expression pragmatic but tinged with respect for the grove. "Seems like a good use of them to me," she replied before returning to her work.
"Don't think Halsin will be happy with us pulling up his grove," Asharak added, his lips quirking into a small smile as he considered the Druid's likely reaction.
Kaldani's hands faltered for a moment, a worried furrow creasing her brow. "Ah... I didn't think about that," she confessed, her tail flicking nervously.
Ishta, sensing the unease, stepped forward, her voice reassuring. "He won't mind as much as you think. Nature is resilient; those trees will regrow, even from a stump. The same can't be said about you. Given the choice between your lives and a tree... I know which one he'd choose to protect."
A deep, familiar voice interrupted from behind them, carrying a note of approval. "Well said."
They turned to see Halsin making his way towards them. His large frame seemed to blend into the earth and wood around him.
Asharak straightened up, a hint of embarrassment in his voice as he greeted the Druid. "Master Halsin! I thought you were with the other Druids down in the lower grove?"
Halsin let out a sigh, a shadow of frustration crossing his features as his broad shoulders drooped slightly. "I was. I tried to convince them to join you... but it seems I am the leader of cowards," he admitted with bitter resignation. "Most have locked themselves away in the inner sanctum and refuse to come out. As much as it pains and angers me, I cannot force them to fight."
Asharak's expression faltered, disappointment and frustration evident in his eyes before he quickly composed himself and offered a respectful nod. "That is unfortunate."
"A small handful are still loyal," Halsin continued, his tone resolute as he straightened his posture, determination returning to his gaze. "I have sent them into the surrounding woods to lay traps and gather allies from the beasts that live here. After all, a Goblin horde in the area affects nature as much as it does us."
"Any help is appreciated, no matter where it comes from or in what form," Asharak replied, his respect for Halsin evident in his tone.
Halsin turned his gaze to Ishta, his expression softening as he addressed her. "Now, I must steal away the Ranger for a while. We have much to catch up on."
Ishta nodded, glancing at Asharak and Kaldani before turning to follow Halsin. "Keep up the good work," she said to them, her voice encouraging, as she moved to join the Druid as he led her away from the bustling preparations towards a quieter part of the grove.
As they walked through the forest, the sounds of battle preparations gradually faded into the background, replaced by the rustling of leaves underfoot and the distant calls of birds settling in for the night. The golden light of the setting sun filtered through the canopy, casting long shadows that stretched across their path. A sense of peace settled over Ishta as she took in her surroundings, temporarily lulled by the tranquillity of nature.
After a few moments of silence, Halsin's voice broke through the quiet, his tone calm and direct, as was his way. "So, you travel in the company of a Vampire."
Ishta's steps faltered, and she came to an abrupt halt, turning to face Halsin with a raised eyebrow. The bluntness of his statement caught her off guard, and for a moment, she simply stared at him. His piercing gaze seemed to see right through her, and she had to resist the urge to fidget under his scrutiny. "Wow... that didn't take long," she finally said, her voice tinged with wry amusement. "How did you find out?"
Halsin met her gaze evenly, his eyes sharp. "You forget my sense of smell is keener than most. I have fought enough of his kind in the past to recognize the scent." A hint of pride crept into his voice as he spoke.
Ishta sighed, a mixture of admiration and frustration playing across her features. She kicked at a loose pebble on the ground, sending it skittering into the underbrush. "Wish I had that ability," she muttered, the corners of her lips twitching with a hint of a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
Halsin's expression softened slightly, though his tone remained serious. He placed a hand on the rough bark of a nearby tree, his fingers tracing the deep grooves as he continued. "I almost attacked him while fighting in the dungeons. It took great restraint on my part... which is why I am more than a little surprised at the restraint you are showing."
Ishta's attempt to brush off the gravity of his words with a casual shrug was betrayed by the stiffness of her movements and the tension evident in her body. "Believe me, I'm just as shocked as you are," she replied, her voice trying for lightness but falling short.
Halsin's brow furrowed, concern etching lines into his usually calm features. He turned to face her fully, his gaze searching her face as he asked, "What kind of hold does he have over you?"
Ishta's eyes drifted upward, drawn to the canopy of leaves above them where the last rays of sunlight filtered through in dappled patterns. The silence stretched out between them, punctuated only by the distant chirping of birds and rustling of leaves. Finally, she let out a deep sigh before giving him a quiet yet honest response. "The worst kind..."
Halsin's eyes darkened with worry as he watched her, his breath catching slightly at the implication. He stepped closer, his large frame casting a protective shadow over her. But before the concern could fully take root, Ishta gave a half-smile.
"A tragic backstory..." she finished, the levity in her voice barely masking the underlying truth.
Halsin studied her for a long moment, their unspoken understanding palpable in the air between them. Slowly, a knowing smile spread across his features and his expression softened with realization. "I see. So the hunter has empathy for her prey now?"
Ishta met his gaze directly, a flicker of something tender flashing in her eyes before she quickly masked it with a smile. "It seems that way," she admitted with self-deprecating humour. "Hilarious when you stop and think about it. But for better or for worse, I am stuck with Astarion for the foreseeable future while we deal with these parasites."
Halsin's steps resumed, slow and deliberate as he absorbed her words. He reached out to brush aside a low-hanging branch, allowing Ishta to pass through before him. His gaze was thoughtful as it rested on her. "Sparing his life is one thing... allowing him to join you is another."
Ishta hesitated, her eyes narrowing as she wrestled with her thoughts. She glanced back through the grove, where the last remnants of sunlight flickered through the trees, casting the world in hues of gold and shadow. "I know. However, he has displayed an irritating capacity for... well... not being completely evil," she finally said with reluctant admiration. "In fact, he's even proved trustworthy - as astonishing as that sounds. He's a skilled fighter and I..."
Her voice faltered and she paused, her gaze distant as she carefully considered her next words. In the distance, Astarion was visible talking animatedly with Karlach, his usual smirk softened by something akin to genuine amusement. Ishta's expression grew pensive, emotions swirling within her like a tangled web.
"I enjoy having him around," she confessed quietly, almost to herself. Saying it aloud felt strange, as if making it real somehow changed things. "He's a snarky, quick-witted jerk to be sure, but he's also... fun. I suppose he reminds me of Cullen in some ways. That same wildness, that same desperate need to see and experience everything he can, before it's snatched away."
Halsin listened intently with a grave expression and his eyes focused on her, absorbing the layers of meaning behind her words. When she mentioned Cullen, a flicker of recognition crossed his features and he nodded slowly, understanding dawning in his gaze. "So, you view Astarion in the same light as your brother? You truly have changed since the last time we met, Ishta Dawnstar."
Ishta turned to him, her eyes searching his face for judgment or doubt, uncertainty flickering in her expression. "Is that a bad thing?" she asked, her voice soft and laced with curiosity.
Halsin's smile deepened, spreading warmth like a comforting embrace. "Not at all," he said in a gentle, unwavering tone. "In fact, it warms my heart to see you so willing to release your hatred."
Ishta's breath caught in her throat, her words bursting forth with sharp venom. "I still hate Vampires," she snapped, the bitterness in her voice slicing through the air like a sharpened blade. "I despise everything they stand for." Her hands curled into fists at her sides, nails digging into her palms as memories flooded her mind. "They are monsters, Halsin, who prey on the innocent. I have dedicated my entire life to hunting them down and making them pay for what Haro'kon and his coven did to me."
The weight of her declaration hung heavy in the stillness of the forest, even nature seemed to shrink back in fear and respect. But Halsin remained calm and composed, his expression giving away nothing but a glimmer of concern in his eyes.
A movement caught Ishta's attention - Astarion. He glanced their way as Karlach left him, and lifted his hand in a nonchalant wave. His usual smirk softened into an almost gentle smile in the fading light. Ishta's gaze lingered on him, her breath hitching in her chest. She shook her head as if trying to dispel the jumbled thoughts clouding her mind. The fire in her eyes dimmed, replaced by weariness and uncertainty. Her shoulders slumped under the weight of it all, as heavy as a cloak draped over her.
"But not this one?" Halsin's question pierced through the silence, gentle but definitive, more of a nudge than a query.
"No, not this one," Ishta echoed in a barely audible whisper, her words weighted with confusion and inner turmoil.
Halsin met her gaze unflinchingly, his understanding evident in his steady gaze. He observed the change in her posture and the crumbling resolve in her eyes. "What makes him so different?" he asked, his voice soft but probing.
Ishta's hands trembled as she clenched them tightly, her knuckles turning white from the effort. Her voice was laced with distress, a raw edge of uncertainty cutting through her words. "I don't know."
She looked up, her gaze meeting Halsin's, searching his face for answers.
"Halsin...I'm scared. What if he's not different at all? What if it's me... what if I've been wrong this whole time?"
Halsin's calm expression didn't falter, but a shadow of sadness flickered in his eyes. "About what?" he asked gently, his voice a guiding hand, encouraging her to delve deeper into the darkness of her thoughts.
"What if they're not all monsters... what if only some of them are?" Ishta's voice cracked as she spoke, her heart racing in her chest as the thought took hold. "Have I been killing Vampires... No. People. Have I been killing people who were just like him?"
Halsin fell silent for a moment, the weighty implications of her words too heavy to be brushed aside easily. Finally, he took a deep breath and spoke.
"I wish I had an easy answer that could soothe the storm raging within you, Little Cub." Halsin's voice remained steady, a grounding force. "But for now, it would be wise to focus on one battle at a time. Tomorrow's fight demands all of your strength. There will be time enough to search your soul if we survive to see another day."
As Ishta and Halsin slowly made their way over to him, Astarion kept his expression carefully composed, masking his impatience with an easy smile. His fingers tapped against the hilt of his dagger, a nervous habit that he couldn't seem to break.
"Ah, there you are!" he greeted, his tone light and welcoming, though his gaze lingered on Ishta for a moment longer than necessary, noting the subtle tension in her jaw.
Halsin inclined his head, his expression warm but observant. "Greetings, Astarion. It is a pleasure to finally be properly introduced to all the members of Ishta's party. She has been telling me a little about you." His deep voice carried a calm authority, but there was also a hint of curiosity in his gaze as it rested on Astarion.
Astarion's smile remained fixed, but he felt the familiar prickle of unease along his spine. "Oh... has she now," he replied smoothly, his mind racing to fill in the gaps of what Ishta had probably told the Druid about him. He narrowed his eyes slightly, trying to gauge Halsin's mood.
The Druid seemed to sense his rising discomfort and raised a calming hand. "Do not be alarmed. You will find no judgment or hostility from me." He shifted his weight gracefully, his stance relaxed yet somehow grounded and rooted like a tree. "All I ask is that you do not harm the creatures who have found sanctuary within our grove. As for those beyond these boundaries...well, nature sees all predators as one and the same."
The tension melted from Astarion's muscles at Halsin's words, replaced by genuine surprise at the Druid's open-mindedness. But he quickly covered it up with a smirk and a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Don't worry," he replied smoothly. "None of the mangy beasts here are appetizing enough to tempt me." His gaze slid over Halsin appraisingly, a smirk spreading across his lips. "Although that bear form of yours... now that could tide me over nicely for quite some time."
Halsin blinked, momentarily taken aback by Astarion's boldness. But before he could respond, Ishta let out a groan, her hand sliding down her face in exasperation. "Oh, for the love of sanity," she muttered, shooting a venomous glare at Astarion.
Clearing his throat and shifting the conversation, Halsin stated tactfully, "I have a task for both of you. Let us continue walking while I explain." He gestured ahead and took the lead, his posture relaxed yet authoritative as he started to move forward.
"By all means," Ishta growled through gritted teeth, still glaring daggers at Astarion. "I'm fighting the sudden urge to murder someone."
Astarion chuckled and followed behind Halsin, a teasing smile playing on his lips. "I have those urges all the time, my dear. The trick is to—"
His words were cut off as something small and hard smacked him in the back of the head, causing him to stumble slightly. Turning around with an incredulous expression, he spotted the offending object - a pinecone.
His gaze snapped to Ishta, who stood with her arms crossed and a mock innocent expression on her face. "Did you just throw a pinecone at me?" Astarion demanded, his tone wavering between outrage and amusement.
Ishta continued walking past him, her steps firm and almost stomping. "It would have been my dagger if it hadn't mysteriously disappeared... again," she shot back without even looking at him.
Astarion rubbed his head with a grin tugging at his lips despite the slight sting. He quickened his pace to catch up with Ishta, falling into step beside her with a feigned look of concern. "You really should be more careful where you leave your things lying around. There are disreputable characters everywhere these days."
Ishta turned her head slightly to give him a sidelong glare, but there was a hint of amusement in her eyes. "You don't say..."
Halsin, a few paces ahead, had been listening to the exchange with a bemused expression. His eyebrows were raised in curiosity as he watched them pass him by from the corner of his eye, noting the way Ishta's irritation seemed more playful than genuinely angry. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips and he murmured softly under his breath, just out of their hearing, "What strange twist of fate has led you of all people Ishta, to form such a friendship?"
Halsin lengthened his stride, catching up to Ishta and Astarion. "A young boy named Donni, is missing. His mother Rikka is waiting to seal up the entrance to a cave where the rest of the children have taken refuge, but she will not do so until Donni is found," Halsin explained as they walked. "I will search the lower grove, but I would like you to go and ask the other children if they have seen him."
"I think I know the cave you mean," Astarion remarked thoughtfully.
With a brief exchange of understanding, the group split up with Halsin moving off toward the lower grove. Astarion led Ishta in the opposite direction, his steps quick and sure as he navigated the familiar paths with ease, the memory of past explorations guiding his way.
As they approached the cave, Astarion's keen eyes caught sight of a hidden entrance tucked between two large boulders. He knelt down beside it, his fingers brushing over the edges of the opening as he inspected it carefully. The earthy smell of moss and damp soil filled his senses as he peered inside.
He looked back at Ishta with a knowing smile on his lips. "Here we are. It's not exactly spacious, but I think we can both manage."
Ishta crouched down next to him, her eyes scanning the dark opening with mild curiosity. "I take it you've been here before?" she asked.
Astarion's smile widened. "I observed the antics of the grove's little criminal organization for a while that day you sent me out for supplies." He chuckled. "It didn't take me long to figure out where their hideout was."
Without waiting for her response, he slipped into the hole with practiced ease, the cool earth clinging to their clothes as they made their way through the tunnel. The passage was narrow, forcing them to crawl in near silence, the only sounds audible being their breathing and the faint rustle of earth against their skin.
The tunnel seemed to stretch on forever, each inch gained feeling like a mile. Then suddenly, just as the claustrophobia began to set in, the passage widened and opened into a small cavern dimly lit by flickering candles and beams of sunlight filtering through cracks in the ceiling.
Inside, the space was filled with the soft murmur of children's voices, creating a delicate bubble of normalcy amidst a world gone mad. The children were huddled together, their faces showing a mix of fear and forced cheerfulness as they clung to one another for comfort. At the center of the group sat a Tiefling Bard dressed in a colorful outfit of pastel shades, her voice calm and soothing as she wove a tale of heroes and distant lands.
But despite her steady words, Astarion could sense the tension in her posture and see the slight tremble in her fingers as they plucked at the strings of her lute - a sign of the strain she carried in trying to keep up appearances for these scared children.
It was Mirkon who first caught sight of them, his eyes widening in recognition as he sprang to his feet. The child rushed over, his excitement a brilliant spark in the dimly lit cave. Astarion found himself both charmed and slightly exasperated by the boy's eagerness.
"The Harpy Killer!" Mirkon exclaimed, drawing the attention of the other children. "Are you here to save us? Like Baldy Ron saved the city?" His voice trembled with hope and admiration as he gazed up at Astarion, his small face aglow with trust.
Astarion blinked in surprise at the unexpected title, feeling a swell of pride within him. He quickly regained his composure, crossing his arms with a hint of feigned indifference. "Oh... it's you again. Look, I risked my life for you once. I'm not planning to do it again."
Mirkon's face fell, the light in his eyes fading as he anxiously tugged at the hem of his tunic. His hope seemed to crumble before Astarion's eyes. "But... you can win. Goblins aren't as strong as bird women, right? They can't even fly."
A faint smile tugged at Astarion's lips as he considered the boy's logic. "True," he admitted, his tone softer than before. But before he could say more, Mirkon's eyes lit up once again, a glimmer of hope reigniting.
"I told everyone you'll save us. I know you will."
The innocent determination in the child's voice caught Astarion off guard, stirring an unfamiliar feeling within him - one he quickly tried to suppress. He glanced at Ishta for some support, but she was watching him with a knowing look that made him feel strangely exposed. Desperately, he attempted to divert the uncomfortable emotion with his usual sarcasm. "You did? Well, now you can tell everyone to go fu—"
Ishta's hand shot out, her fingers gripping his arm firmly. "Ahem!" she interrupted, her voice sharp and pointed as she cut him off before he could finish. "Who is this 'Baldy Ron'?"
Mirkon momentarily forgot about their conversation, his attention caught by Ishta's question. "From the lady's story. He saved Baldur's Gate and became a hero!"
Ishta's expression softened, and she crouched down to Mirkon's level, her voice gentle and reassuring. "Did he now... let us hope I can be just as brave as him."
"You will," Mirkon declared with absolute certainty, his small chest swelling with confidence. "And after, the lady can tell us stories about you."
Ishta smiled, touched by his faith in her. "I look forward to that."
Watching the exchange, Astarion couldn't resist a teasing comment, his tone slipping back into its usual sardonic edge. "I do hope they mention how hopelessly naive Ishta the Soft-Hearted was."
Ishta shot him a sharp look, narrowing her eyes in mock annoyance. "Right alongside how vexing Astarion The Pigheaded was, I presume."
A chorus of "SHHH!" erupted from the gathered children, their stern gazes fixed on the two adults as they scolded them for breaking the magic of the story.
Astarion and Ishta exchanged a surprised glance at the sudden reprimand. Then, in unison, they muttered a quiet "Sorry," their voices barely above a whisper - like two mischievous students caught by a strict teacher.
The Bard looked up from her place among the children, her expression a mix of amusement and exhaustion. "I'm pretty certain if I stop for too long they will actually eat me."
Ishta rose to her feet, her smile warm and genuine as she moved to join the bard. "Good to see you again, Alfira," she said, her voice kind and full of familiarity. "How are you holding up?"
Alfira gave a small, tired smile, her voice soft but steady. "I'm... better, I think," she replied, a hint of gratitude in her tone. She shifted on the rock she was sitting on, her hand absently smoothing out the wrinkles in her tunic. "The song's coming along, thanks to you. Live through the day, and you might even get to hear the finished thing."
Ishta nodded, determination flashing in her eyes like sparks from a fire. "I plan to do both."
As Ishta and Alfira caught up, Astarion's gaze wandered around the cave, taking note of the surroundings. His attention landed on a lone figure standing apart from the rest - Mol, the young leader of the Tiefling thieves. Her posture was guarded and tense, as if constantly on alert for danger. Astarion's curiosity was piqued, and he silently excused himself from the conversation with Ishta.
Mol didn't acknowledge his presence at first, seemingly lost in thought as she watched the others with a mix of disdain and protectiveness. But as Astarion approached her, he could hear her muttering under her breath. "Some dumb fairy tale is all we have left..."
Astarion leaned casually against a wooden post, his posture relaxed as he observed her with interest. His eyes caught sight of the bandage covering her left eye, and he couldn't help but wonder how she had received such an injury. The girl finally looked up at him, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. Her gaze was sharp and assessing.
"You're a little old for story-time," she remarked, a hint of challenge in her voice. "Looking for a place to hide when the end comes?"
Astarion raised an eyebrow, his expression cool and unbothered. "You look a little old for this yourself."
Mol rolled her eye in exasperation, clearly used to hearing this kind of comment. "Take it up with Zevlor," she retorted, her frustration evident in her tone. "Apparently, I'm 'too young' to fight on the wall."
Astarion's attention drifted to the pair of small throwing knives tucked into Mol's belt, piquing his interest even further. "Are you any good with those knives?"
In response, Mol's hand moved with lightning speed, one of the knives leaving her grip and whizzing past Astarion's ear so quickly that he barely had time to react. The blade embedded itself in the wooden post behind him, pinning a moth in place with deadly precision. Astarion blinked in surprise, momentarily stunned by her skill and quick reflexes. But he quickly regained his composure, his expression remaining neutral as he looked at the knife then back at Mol, who was watching him with a self-satisfied grin.
"A simple yes would have sufficed..." he commented dryly.
Mol's grin widened, her one good eye gleaming with pride. "Wouldn't have been as impressive though, would it?"
Astarion nodded appreciatively, recognizing a kindred spirit in Mol. He gestured towards Ishta, who was beginning to take notice of their exchange. "You remind me of someone else I know. Use those skills of yours to protect the kids in here," he advised, his tone serious. "If any goblins pop their heads through that hole, aim for the eyes."
Mol's smirk slowly faded, replaced by a glimmer of recognition in her eyes. "You're the one who rescued Mirkon, aren't you?"
Astarion brushed off the question with a careless shrug, his voice dripping with nonchalance. "I might have. It's hard to remember."
Mol's gaze narrowed and her tone became accusatory. "And you're also the one who stole from Mattis."
Astarion's smirk returned, sly and unapologetic as he leaned in closer, his voice now a cunning whisper. "Ah... yes. That does ring a bell."
Mol's eyes sparkled with a mixture of admiration and mischief as she retorted, "You should be ashamed of yourself, stealing from a kid like that."
Astarion scoffed lightly, flicking his hand dismissively. "He tried to swindle me while his accomplice attempted to pick my pocket. I have nothing to feel guilty about."
Mol glanced over at Ishta, who was making her way towards them with a curious and slightly suspicious expression on her face.
A crafty smile spread across Mol's lips as she tilted her head knowingly at Astarion. "Bet she wouldn't approve, though... she seems like the more upstanding type."
Astarion snorted derisively, though he could feel the weight of Ishta's gaze boring into him. "You would think so, but I'm not so sure anymore," he mused aloud before turning back to face Mol. "Alright, fine. Here." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pouch of coins, tossing it to Mol with a resigned sigh. "There's more in there than what I took from the lad. Consider it an investment. I may need your skills in Baldur's Gate."
Mol caught the pouch effortlessly, her eyes lighting up with surprise and delight. She leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper as Ishta finally joined them. "You're off the hook... for now."
Astarion gave her a mock bow, his smirk still playing on his lips as he replied, "It was a pleasure doing business with you."
Mol quickly vanished back into the shadows with practiced ease, leaving Astarion and Ishta alone. Ishta watched her go, then turned her gaze to Astarion, one eyebrow raised in question.
"What was all that about?"
Astarion waved a dismissive hand, his tone light and breezy under her scrutiny. "Just some Rogue business."
Ishta studied him for a moment longer, then nodded slowly as if accepting his answer, though she could tell there was more to the story than what he was letting on. "I see... Anyway, some of the children mentioned seeing Donni heading down into the lower grove. Halsin probably found him by now, so let's leave these kids to their storytelling."
As Ishta gazed sadly at the group of children, Astarion couldn't help but ask, "Do you think they will be safe down here?"
Ishta's expression hardened and her voice took on a fierce determination. "It's our duty to make sure they are."
The first rays of dawn broke through the thick canopy of trees, casting a golden glow upon the clearing where the defenders of the grove had gathered. A diverse group, made up of Tieflings, animals, and a few powerful Druids, stood united and determined in their purpose.
Zevlor, their designated leader, stood before them with a commanding presence, his voice cutting through the tense murmurs like a sharp blade. The morning sky danced with hues of pink and orange, casting fleeting patterns on the ground below.
A heavy sense of anticipation hung in the air, each breath drawn in tight and every eye trained towards the horizon where a goblin army loomed like a dark cloud. Zevlor's voice rang out, firm yet weighed down by the burdens shared by those who had seen too much and lost too much. "I know that you are all afraid... but I also know that you have been fighting your whole lives."
His words echoed in the silence, drawing every ear forward as they sank in. Ishta and her group stood just beyond the gathering crowd, partially hidden by the dappled shadows of ancient trees surrounding the grove. From their vantage point, they could see the enemy slowly advancing, a swelling sea of violence that threatened to crash against their meager defenses. The walls of the grove were sturdy, but Ishta knew they were not impenetrable. This battle would be fought with blood and steel.
Astarion leaned closer to Ishta, his posture relaxed despite the tension thrumming in the air. His voice was laced with dry amusement that seemed out of place. "So what's the plan? I assume you have one?"
Ishta's gaze flicked towards him, her lips curling into a wry smile despite herself. "No. I just thought I'd wing it."
Astarion smirked, his eyes glinting mischievously. "That suits me just fine. I do so hate getting bogged down in all the details."
Ishta couldn't help but smile at his playfulness as she muttered under her breath, her words barely audible over the distant sounds of rattling weapons. "That explains a lot..."
Astarion's sharp ears caught the mumbled words and his amusement turned to suspicion, his eyes narrowing as he tilted his head slightly. "What was that?"
"Nothing," Ishta replied quickly, her expression returning to one of practiced neutrality as she refocused on the approaching army.
Up front, Zevlor's voice gained momentum, his words growing in strength as he addressed the hearts of his people. "We have never been handed the easy choices, or the gentle paths. And this is no different."
Ishta's demeanor shifted instantly, the brief moment of levity fading like smoke in the wind as she focused on the task at hand. The sound of the approaching goblin horde grew louder, a low rumble that seemed to reverberate from deep within the earth itself. The ground beneath her feet trembled ever so slightly, serving as a constant reminder of the sheer weight of the enemy pressing closer.
She leaned forward, scanning the lines of defense with narrowed eyes, her mind racing with strategies and countless scenarios that could unfold in the crucial moments ahead.
To her left stood Rolan, the young aspiring Tiefling wizard who, along with his siblings Cal and Lia, had reluctantly agreed to stay in the grove and fight. His arms were crossed over his chest, his expression twisted into an arrogant sneer as he listened to Zevlor's attempts at a rousing speech. His voice, dripping with disdain, cut through the tense air.
"Look at this place," Rolan muttered, loud enough to be heard by those around him. "Like a pen of hogs waiting for the butcher's knife. We need to act!"
Lia shot him a piercing glare, her face tight with barely restrained anger. "Quiet! Some of the children might hear you."
Rolan rolled his eyes, the corners of his mouth curling into a condescending smirk. "Oh, perish the thought they overhear a little honesty once in their short lives."
Lia's eyes blazed, and she took a threatening step towards him. The tension between them was palpable as she hissed, "Another word," her voice low and menacing, "and it won't be the goblins you have to worry about!"
Cal, ever the reluctant peacemaker, stepped between them, his voice strained. "Enough! Both of you!"
Ishta had heard enough. She turned to face them, her eyes hard and her voice cutting through their bickering like a knife. "Battle formation. Now."
Rolan's lip curled in a sneer as he responded, clearly challenging Ishta's command. "That's to say me at the front while the others stay back and do as I say?"
Lia's temper flared again, her voice a low growl. "Shut it just for once, you insufferable, oafish—"
Cal's hands went up, palms out in a desperate bid for peace. "Stop it! Listen to someone else for once."
Ishta's unwavering gaze bore into Rolan, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Rolan, you will take position in the back where you have time to cast. You two," she nodded to Cal and Lia, "will be his shield."
Cal gave a grim nod, his expression serious but resolved. "I can live with that... I hope. And what about you two?"
Lia crossed her arms but nodded sharply. "Fine. As long as I don't have to listen to any complaints in the meantime."
Rolan, ever defiant, let out a begrudging sigh. "So be it. I'll take a mediocre plan over nothing." His eyes locked onto Ishta, a bitter edge to his words. "I blame you for this, Ranger. We could all have been halfway to Baldur's Gate by now if you hadn't voiced your 'opinion'."
Ishta's lips curled into a saccharine smile, one that didn't quite reach her eyes. "You're welcome."
With a determined expression, Ishta turned away from the siblings and faced her companions. Her posture stiffened as she spoke to them in a low, commanding tone meant only for their ears. "Here's the plan," she began, her voice carrying the weight of authority. "Astarion, Shadowheart, and Gale - stay up top with the other archers and casters. Lay down covering fire; we'll need every bolt and blast to keep them back."
Astarion gave a quick nod, his calculating gaze already scanning the high ground. Shadowheart's features were set in determination, while Gale muttered arcane words under his breath, electricity crackling between his fingertips.
Ishta's eyes then turned to the fighters in front of her. "Karlach, you, Wyll, and Lae'zel are with me at the front. We're the line. Our job is to hold off that army and make sure they don't breach the gate. Leave the brawlers to the archers; focus on taking down the brutes and bombers. They're the real threat."
Karlach's narrowed eyes studied Ishta with a mix of respect and curiosity. "You've done this before, haven't you?" she asked teasingly yet almost accusingly, as if she had finally confirmed a long-held suspicion.
Without missing a beat, Ishta replied with a voice laced with experience. "More times than I'd like to count."
A fierce grin spread across Karlach's face, flashing her teeth as she nodded approvingly. "I knew it! You're a soldier just like me."
Ishta paused for a moment, her distant gaze betraying memories she had tried to bury long ago. The screams of battle, the faces of fallen comrades - they flickered through her mind like ghosts. She shook them off and answered with a softer tone, "That's one way to put it."
Zevlor's voice, strong and resolute, sliced through the murmurs, pulling her back to the present. "These creatures would take our lives, our children... our future. And we must resist!"
As his words echoed through the grove, a shadow seemed to sweep over the defenders, causing a collective shiver to run through the ranks as if a cold wind had suddenly blown through.
Ishta's head snapped up, her gaze narrowing as she spotted Minthara standing atop a jagged rock formation that loomed like a dark omen over the battlefield. The ground below her was already swarming with goblins, ogres, bugbears, worgs, and even giant spiders, their guttural snarls and low growls filling the air with an oppressive sense of dread.
Ishta's heart pounded in her chest as her eyes locked onto Minthara's, the Drow's gaze sharp and icy. For a moment, it felt as though the world had narrowed down to just the two of them, the impending battle fading into the background as a psychic connection formed between them. Minthara's voice slithered into Ishta's mind like a snake, her words dripping with malice.
"A pretty speech. It almost brings a tear to my eye. Now slit his throat, and open that gate. The Absolute wants all of them dead."
Ishta's jaw clenched, her resolve hardening as she pushed back against the invasive presence in her mind. "Does she now? Well, I'm afraid you're going to have to tell her to sod off. This grove is under my protection."
Minthara's mental snarl reverberated through Ishta's thoughts, her venomous words nearly palpable. "Traitor! You think you can stand against me and the Absolute? I'll dissect you, Xindite."
Ishta's lips curved into a defiant smirk as she responded, her mental voice sharp as the blades at her sides. "Dofith rath ulu lil' oloth, Minthara. Dos phuul ussta p'luvt nindol tangi." *Flee back to the darkness, Minthara. You are my prey this day*
For a moment, there was a crack in Minthara's confidence as uncertainty rippled through her thoughts. But she quickly regained control, pressing down on Ishta's mind like a heavy weight. "We shall see."
As their connection severed, Ishta took a deep breath, grounding herself in the present. The mental confrontation had only reinforced her determination, sharpening her focus like a blade honed to perfection. She turned to her companions, eyes blazing with determination as she spoke with commanding authority.
"Take your positions," she ordered firmly. "These Tieflings didn't survive the fall of Elturel just to die here. Goblins may be dumb, but we will teach them a lesson they won't soon forget."
Astarion arched an eyebrow in amusement as he drawled, "And what lesson would that be?"
Ishta's narrowed her eyes, her patience wearing thin as she slung her bow over her shoulder and headed towards the edge of the wall. "I don't know," she called back over her shoulder."Think of some suitably inspiring metaphor. I'm no good at speeches."
Astarion glanced at Wyll, a playful smirk playing on his lips. "I'm sure Wyll here can come up with something catchy."
Wyll groaned, fiddling with one of the ridges on his neck. "It took me forever just to come up with my own motto..."
Astarion's grin widened as he added with mock seriousness, "Yes... I can tell."
Ishta's exasperation finally broke through, her voice snapping like a whip. "You two! I said positions... that means now!"
With a reluctant but obedient nod, Astarion and Wyll moved to their designated spots, the banter fading into the background as the gravity of the upcoming battle settled over them all. Ishta turned back to face the approaching horde, her heart steadying as she gripped her bow tightly, the smooth yew wood a comforting reminder of her purpose. The enemy was drawing near and there was no more time for words. It was time for action.
The towering cliffs of the grove rose like fearsome giants, their jagged edges and steep inclines creating a formidable barrier that offered both protection and danger. The only entrance was a single gate, guarded by archers and spellcasters who stood at the ready, weapons poised and spells charged. The first rays of dawn crept over the horizon, casting an eerie glow on the scene below.
Ishta crouched with her companions above the gate: Lae'zel, Karlach, and Wyll. Their muscles were tense, coiled springs waiting to unleash their power. Ishta knew they had to act quickly. Below them, goblins marched closer with barrels of explosives hoisted on their shoulders. If they breached the gate, all could be lost in an instant.
A wild roar erupted from the goblins as they surged forward. In response, a rain of arrows descended from the walls, slicing through their ranks with deadly accuracy. Fire and lightning crackled through the air as Gale and other spellcasters unleashed powerful magic. Screams pierced the chaos, but still the goblins advanced, driven by sheer numbers.
From atop the ridge, Minthara stood silhouetted against the rising sun. Her voice cut through the cacophony like a sharp knife. "Release the spiders!"
Through the misty dawn air emerged giant spiders, their massive legs skittering up the cliffside with terrifying speed. Panic spread among the defenders as these creatures lunged towards them with venom dripping from their fangs. The archers faltered, spells fizzled out; all focus shifted to this new threat.
"They're going to breach," growled Karlach in fury.
Without hesitation, Ishta's eyes darted between the gate and the spiders above. The battle was spiraling out of control. "We jump now," she commanded her companions. "Protect the gate."
With a mighty roar, they leapt down from their perch, crashing into the enemy with the force of a falling star. Ishta's scimitars cut through goblin flesh, their screams drowned out by the chaos around them. Lae'zel's Githyanki blade danced in deadly arcs, while Karlach was a blazing inferno of fury, wielding her greatsword with deadly precision. Wyll fought close by, his new horns lending him a devilish aspect as he fought with fierce determination.
But still the enemy pressed on - ogres and bugbears breaking through the front lines of goblins, their huge forms casting long shadows in the dawn light
In a desperate move, Ishta ripped the bonehorn from her belt - the one given to her by Lump the ogre - and blew with all her might. A deep, resounding note echoed across the battlefield. Seconds later, a deafening roar responded. From the cover of the trees emerged Lump and his brothers, charging forward with massive clubs swinging. The ground shook with each thunderous step as they barreled towards the goblins, striking fear into their hearts and slowing their advance.
The tide was shifting, but the battle was far from over. Spiders continued their relentless assault on the walls, taking out defenders with their venomous strikes. Ishta swung her blades furiously, her eyes searching for Minthara among the chaos. And then she saw her...
Minthara's lithe form dropped from the ridge with a savage grace, her eyes burning with a fierce, unyielding fury as they locked onto Ishta's. "I trusted you," she snarled, her grip tightening on the spiked maces in her hands. "And you betrayed me."
Ishta stood her ground, determination etched into every line of her body as she tightened her hold on her scimitars. "Your goddess betrayed you, Minthara," she retorted, meeting the Drow's gaze without flinching. "She knew I was deceiving you and did nothing to stop it."
"Lies!" Minthara spat, before launching herself at Ishta.
The two women clashed with an explosive force, their weapons meeting in a shower of sparks. Minthara's maces swung in brutal arcs, their sharp spikes aimed to inflict maximum damage. Ishta parried and countered with all her strength, but each blow from the relentless Drow pushed her back further and further, her muscles straining with the effort, teeth clenched in determination. But as the battle raged on, Ishta could feel her energy draining away, each movement becoming slower and more forced.
A gleam of triumph shone in Minthara's eyes as she noticed Ishta's growing fatigue. "You're faltering," she taunted, her voice a vicious hiss. "All your clever tricks, and here you stand, about to break."
Ishta's body screamed in protest, exhaustion clawing at her from the constant struggle for survival. The parasite in her brain only added to her burdens, weighing down on her like an anchor dragging someone into the depths of the sea. She could feel herself fading, her scimitars becoming heavier with each swing.
As Minthara lunged for another attack, Ishta's arms moved to block it - too slow this time. The sharp point of the mace grazed her forehead before slamming into her temple with a sickening thud. Ishta's world exploded in pain, her arms falling limply to her sides as she struggled to stay conscious.
As the darkness closed in, a desperate voice filled in her mind. "Did I say you could die? Get up and fight damn you!"