Chapter Text
They trooped under the massive gate and found themselves in a dim tunnel that opened out to a peaceful, lush grove. One of the adventurers was yelling at the red skinned tiefling who had assisted from the top of the gate. Astarion supposed that this was the 'Zevlor' they'd been shouting about in front of the gate.
The human, a rough looking specimen with nondescript curly hair and a nasty attitude, seemed to be blaming Zevlor for the entire fight. The tiefling was pointing out that the adventurers had led the goblins directly to the grove. It seemed obvious that the two would come to blows, especially once the human had begun to throw racist insults at the tiefling.
Astarion stood back and watched with dismay as Sorcha tried and failed to calm down the two adversaries. He really hoped that she wasn't going to get involved in every petty dispute they came across. Did she not remember that they had problems of their own? She only just missed a punch to the face as the human knocked out the tiefling and stormed off, out of the grove. She helped the tiefling to get up and finally started enquiring about a healer.
"Goblin got you?" the tiefling inquired. "If it's not too serious you could try Nettie, she's down in the grove."
Astarion breathed a sigh of relief to hear that there was a healer in the grove but then the tiefling mentioned that the grove was about to be sealed, and Sorcha just had to ask for more details. He huffed a breath out in exasperation but was pleasantly surprised when she told Zevlor that she had more urgent things to do than help them. Good girl. Maybe she had some gumption after all.
He peered over the edge of the path, looking down on a central area filled with pillared arches and chanting druids.
"I guess that will be where we need to go," he said, pointing.
The sorcerer looked over at the circle.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, "Someone's hidden a chest on top of one of those arches."
A quick flick of her hands and a muttered cantrip created a Mage Hand on top of the arch.
"Now, if I could just push …"
He noticed that she had a little central frown line when she concentrated, and the tip of her tongue peeked out from the corner of her mouth.
"Aha!" she said with satisfaction, pushing the chest to the undergrowth behind the arch. "We should remember to look at that later, someone might have forgotten it was there."
The path led downwards to an open series of caverns, dotted with occasional merchants and groups of tieflings. Sorcha was still stopping to talk to everyone, encouraging a trio of tiefling siblings to stay and help the others rather than leaving early, trading for a little useful equipment and talking to a tiefling weaponsmith. It seemed that these tieflings were refugees from Eltugard, offered sanctuary by the previous leader of the grove who had ventured out with those adventurers and since disappeared.
There was an elderly human woman selling potions, wittering on about the things she'd supposedly cured and offering to help. She was obviously a bit demented, or possibly a witch. He was getting bored so he nudged Sorcha and whispered "Tell her everything", which she promptly did, to disgusted looks from the others. Unsurprisingly, the madwoman thought that she could help, and advised them to visit her cottage in the woods. He guessed it might be worth a try if this druid healer was useless but he didn't hold out too much hope.
A training ground of sorts had been roped off, and a gaggle of tiefling kids were being taught to fight. It looked to be the very first lesson for most of them; either that or they were truly, pitifully, awful. The man from the earlier fight was helping, trying to give them some confidence in their abilities, with little success.
He introduced himself as the Blade of Frontiers, as if they were supposed to know the name. Honestly, between Gale of Waterdeep and the Blade of Frontiers, Astarion thought he should probably come up with a fancy title of his own. What would suit? The Knife in the Dark? The Pale Urge? Ugh, no, it needed something with a bit more gravitas. Best to think about it for a while.
As the man glanced their way a blast of mental energy hit them again, a vision of the hells and the man pursuing a fiery devil.
"You're infected too then," Sorcha said. She suggested that the man join their party but he refused, saying that he had a devil to chase once the tiefling children finished their lesson. Good. The last thing Astarion needed was some hero to rival him as the most desirable of the group.
There was a flight of stairs leading down from the stable area, and a group of angry tieflings were facing off against some of the druids, yelling about some child or other. The face-off ended when one of the druids turned into a bear and the leading tiefling, a sandy haired female, stomped back up the steps cursing in what he could only presume was infernal.
Sorcha had led them down to where the druids barred the way, intending to walk past the bear and into the centre of the grove. He was hoping that she might manage to avoid a confrontation but the belligerent druid in the middle obviously hated everyone on sight and was barring the way.
"Back off," she growled rudely to them, "or you'll see my claws." Astarion made a mental note that if he was ever here at night he should make a point of quietly slitting the druid's throat.
They were eventually allowed through the arch thanks to intervention from a gnome, and directed to an underground chamber where the druid leader was apparently expecting them. Walking through a heavy stone door, carved with runes, and down well worn stone steps, they emerged into a chamber dappled with light from an unknown source.
An imperious druid, who seemed to be the one in charge, was stood over a crying tiefling girl, threatening her with imprisonment, or worse, a snakebite from the vicious looking serpent poised over her.
Another druid, wearing antlers of all things, was trying to intervene. "Kagha, she's just a child!"
"She's a parasite!" was the rejoinder.
As usual the sorcerer barged straight into the confrontation. The child had apparently been caught stealing something from these druids. Hardly worth charging in for, some petty dispute. How in all the realms did she expect people to help them if she kept inserting herself into the middle of conflicts?
"Astarion?" Sorcha was looking at him with expectation. "You're a magistrate, surely they can't just lock up a child without due process? What do you think?"
By the gods, why had he ever mentioned that? He gave himself a mental shake and put on his most officious voice.
"My dear, City Law and Grove Law are completely different. I'm not sure that I'm qualified."
Sorcha continued; "Well, the case should be properly dealt with and both sides heard, wouldn't you say?"
The druid just glared at him with narrowed eyes even though he hadn't done anything!
"You're obviously the leader here", she continued, "You should show due respect for the legal process as a strong leader. You wouldn't want to be thought of as capricious, would you?"
The druid, Kagha, eventually acquiesced and Astarion, with, he thought, great dignity, heard both sides of the argument.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" the tiefling girl kept repeating, although Astarion thought it was more likely that she was just a very good performer.
"I overheard a druid say we'd have to leave once the ritual was finished, and I was scared, so I thought if I hid the idol we could stay longer and be safe! I'm sorry!" she sobbed.
The snake coiled around her certainly didn't look convinced and bared its fangs once more, dripping venom. If his true nature had been known he would have bared his own fangs and hissed back, just to teach it that it wasn't the fiercest thing in the room.
He could see that this story was affecting Sorcha a little and decided that showing mercy could only elevate his standing with the sorcerer. He gravely ruled that the child was to be released and that she was to tell everyone of Kagha's mercy.
Afterward the druid was congratulating them on their fighting skills during the goblin skirmish and insisting that the party hire themselves out to guard the tieflings on the road. Thank the gods that Sorcha bluntly told her that it was nothing to do with them and that they just wanted to visit the healer.
"Go then," Kagha spat. "I have no more use for you."
Charming woman. She'd be much improved if she was given a session with Godey. Looking at Sorcha he could see no sign of the meltdown from yesterday, just a grim determination. He hoped her collapse had just been a one-off in reaction to the momentous events of that day. It had been a lot, after all, but now some of that steel was back in her bearing.
While the others walked towards the healer's room, Astarion had a quick look into another empty chamber which seemed to be sleeping quarters. There were a couple of chests and he quickly examined them while eyes were elsewhere. He found one chest hidden at the very back of an alcove but it only contained a gemstone, a tattered note and a well-thumbed book. He picked them up without looking further and wandered back to the healer's room. There were more useful items here, including a couple of clean furs and a rather handsome painting of a bard. He could trade that, but it might be a nice thing to keep at camp, brighten the place up. The healer had taken them to an inner chamber where a dead drow lay on a stone slab. If that was the quality of the healing on offer then he wasn't impressed.
"I was hoping for a less grave cure," Sorcha said warily.
The healer, a young looking dwarf, was bemoaning that their main healer, the missing leader Halsin, hadn't been found by any birds that she had sent searching.
"If Halsin was here, he'd have that tadpole out in a jiffy," she said sadly.
Apparently all she could offer the party was a quick death. Unbelievably Sorcha took the vial of poison that was offered and worse, promised to take it if symptoms emerged. Astarion could only hope that she was bluffing.
They explored the rest of the grove's lower level, remembering to collect the chest hidden behind the arch. Bears and pigs were just wandering everywhere, it was most unsanitary. He suggested walking down to the river for a wash. The first cove they visited had yet another bear but he found some sort of trinket lost behind a rock. It felt vaguely magical so he resolved to ask the wizard about it later, if he could get a word in edgeways. They headed upwards, over a small hill, to see if they could reach the river at a place that wasn't infested with livestock. They passed by a young tiefling bard who was entertaining a couple of squirrels with some torturous ballad, then headed downwards towards the river.
A beautiful melody reached his ears, haunting yet peaceful. It certainly wasn't coming from that bard; maybe there was some real talent hidden away down there. He couldn't locate the source of the sound so he walked towards the shore where a mop-headed tiefling child stood, ankle deep in the water. He didn't really want to damage his shoes but he had to know who was singing, it was beautiful, healing even. He wasn't sure that he had ever felt such peace and contentment.
An icy cold sensation washed over him as he looked up to the rocky bluff and he suddenly saw several hideous winged monstrosities, harpies, moving in for the kill. "You're welcome" he heard Shadowheart shout down to him. Without thinking, he pulled the child back, away from the trap.
Stupid, why did you do that? That child would have been a useful distraction while I escaped.
The tiefling obviously had more sense than he did because the child put on a tremendous burst of speed and sprinted up the hill and out of sight. He didn't emerge again until the fight was over and all four of the party were sat on the ground, exhausted, bleeding and breathless in the aftermath.
The child looked a bit more cheerful now that the ground was strewn with harpy carcasses, and told them to ask a boy, Doni, how to reach someone called Mol to get her thanks. Looking at his ripped leggings and bloody hands, Astarion hoped she was very rich and very grateful.