While that would be funny, the history they have really doesn't allow for it. Torius being inexperienced is... not a plot point exactly, but a definite source of some humor for the next handful of chapters. And while the opportunity for certain entanglements existed, Raphael was never a real option. Torius is used to ferreting out negative intentions; it comes with his caste status in an empire in decline. Anything Raphael would have offered would be poison.
While that would be funny, the history they have really doesn't allow for it. Torius being inexperienced is... not a plot point exactly, but a definite source of some humor for the next handful of chapters.
He admitted to summoning Grazz't for a booty call (though technically he was just trying to summon a succubus/incubus), so it wasn't too much of a stretch to assume he's tried it with other lower planes denizens.
He admitted to summoning Grazz't for a booty call (though technically he was just trying to summon a succubus/incubus), so it wasn't too much of a stretch to assume he's tried it with other lower planes denizens.
Attempts were made, but never successful. The opportunities were there, but either were bad for his health (Graz'zt) or he flat-out didn't register them. I actually address this in Chapter 8, and while the tone is humorous the reality's kind of sad when you look at it a little too closely.
Sceleritas: Well. I'm sure this oddly frightening boy won't make that good an impression on the Young Master!
*One Ethel Later*
Sceleritas: -internal screaming-
I just had a thought - @Blinktwice13 what's Torius' Spell Resistance? As a mechanic that no longer exists in 5e, how does that interact? Also, considering BG3 only goes up to level 12, if he had a SR of 32+, which is totally achievable with 20th level/Epic items he might be immune to pretty much any spell that checks for SR in the scope of the campaign. That's a whole lotta spells that are gonna hit him, and then just kinda spash off and fizzle. It would be hilarious though for some big villain to cast this huge spell on him, and then Torius just 'lol nopes' it out of existence.
I just had a thought - @Blinktwice13 what's Torius' Spell Resistance? As a mechanic that no longer exists in 5e, how does that interact? Also, considering BG3 only goes up to level 12, if he had a SR of 32+, which is totally achievable with 20th level/Epic items he might be immune to pretty much any spell that checks for SR in the scope of the campaign. That's a whole lotta spells that are gonna hit him, and then just kinda spash off and fizzle. It would be hilarious though for some big villain to cast this huge spell on him, and then Torius just 'lol nopes' it out of existence.
In a normal fight, they have to catch him first. With a Warning Weapon and his Dexterity, Torius usually goes first- and last. AoE for Great Justice.
If he's trying, his go-to form for defense is Pit Fiend. His offense is Tulani Eladrin, and if he's sufficiently pissed he'll get creative. (Either one of those has SR 'LOL no'.)
When you learn Shapechange in 3.5, you get a second spellbook known as the Monster Manual. Thanks to his Circlet, he can use it to turn into anything up to 25 hit dice. That's a lot.
EDIT:The broken-down explanation is for anyone who doesn't know 3.5, want to clarify!
Ehhh, I mean it's only SR 32/30 /s. Being perfectly honest though, since my only experience with 3.5/Pathfinder was in a campaign of ludicrous power I don't actually have a good feel for how much SR is a lot of SR. One of the party members at like 15th level had a buff that gave everyone pretty much permanent SR36, and I think by the end of the campaign their SR was in like the 50s/60s. But they also were like a 15/16th Divine Rank god of Magic, so.
25 HD of whatever is definitely a lot of power - I ended up playing a cleric who picked up the Stars domain via prestige class and poked around stuff to summon via Greater Planar Binding. Speaking of HD though, nothing was quite as satisfying as hearing the DM scramble a bit after I landed a Banishment to just delete their ~34HD big boss monster, though.
The only characters in BG3 that could credibly threaten Torius are the various gods and godlike entities. IIRC, Vllakith is the only one with stats though, and her official stats probably wouldn't be that hard for Torius unless you want to make assumptions about her magic item hoard which include a thousand years to craft, a fanatical following to gather (and be) resources, and access to material components which include "dead god".
Oh wait, I just remembered the question of Spell Resistance for Torius' ability to shrug off magic is actually kinda irrelevant, because Mage's Disjunction exists, and is accessible via the Magic Domain. Man, I bet that ground some gears in the magocracy - a pinnacle of arcane study, the ability to shut off all spells except your own, except achieved via Divine casting instead. Yeah, it's a 9th level spell, but you can totally get a decent number of those if you pump enough magical steroids stat-enhancing Wondrous Items/Feats into your primary casting stat.
Oh wait, I just remembered the question of Spell Resistance for Torius' ability to shrug off magic is actually kinda irrelevant, because Mage's Disjunction exists, and is accessible via the Magic Domain. Man, I bet that ground some gears in the magocracy - a pinnacle of arcane study, the ability to shut off all spells except your own, except achieved via Divine casting instead. Yeah, it's a 9th level spell, but you can totally get a decent number of those if you pump enough magical steroids stat-enhancing Wondrous Items/Feats into your primary casting stat.
Oh no, back in its heyday, Netheril never worried about any using that spell against them.
Largely because it was pioneered by Mordenkainen and only arrived in Realmspace within the last 200 years. It'd be like if Ancient Rome was concerned about someone dropping an atomic bomb on them (not getting struck down like the wrath of the gods were upon them, but an actual weapon capable of fusing atoms together for a brief but extreme burst of power capable of destroying cities).
The ability to do it existed then, though- and Mystryl gave it to him.
It's what let him 1v1 Karsus to a draw. Mystryl intervening was to prevent Torius from 'accidentally'-ing the entire enclave.
And shortly after that, Jergal called dibs, stuck Torius in storage, and everything went (even more) to shit.
Mystryl: Aww, he's kind of cute in a scrappy way. I'll give him a few treats.
Mystryl: hands a culturally traumatized thirteen-year-old an anti-Magic nuke
Mystryl: This can't go wrong!
Selune: …so let's introduce him to my daughter… you know, as a moral compass… for him.
Something the story seems to have overlooked is that Torius was apparently a follower of Jergal back when he was very much his evil 2e self, which seems at odds for the neutral Torius.
I wonder if Torius will do something silly like try to bring Mystryl back so they can fix the disaster that is this plane?
I mean I doubt it, but it would be an awesome "gotta save my mom" type quest.
Something the story seems to have overlooked is that Torius was apparently a follower of Jergal back when he was very much his evil 2e self, which seems at odds for the neutral Torius.
Torius' entire thing is a happier version of nihilism, which doesn't entirely gel with Jergal 2e, but doesn't reject it either. And it's less that he followed any particular god; in fact he was under the impression that Mystryl was trying to court his vote as it were. Jergal had just been doing the same, and then made his move first. As an archivist, all his spells are divinely sourced so all the gods get some bonafide prayer. In a much darker world, it could have been someone like Shar who called dibs.
Though for whatever reason, none of them can exactly say 'no' to these prayers in particular...
_____
Behold, a timeline of the pre-fic plot in meme form:
Torius: So it all turns to dust, right?
Jergal: Yes.
Torius: So that means we should treasure it all 'till then, right?
Jergal: ...pardon?
Torius: Like if it's all meaningless - good, evil, life, death - then the only meaning it has is what we give it, right?
Jergal, staring at Fiends and Celestials: ...perhaps. (Begins to Plot)
Torius: Okay Boss, I accept!
Jergal, wondering what exactly he's signed on for, but glad Mystryl, Selune, and Shar got locked out: Very Well.
-proceeds to toss Torius into the archives for Forever Paperwork so the fall of Netheril and death of Magic #1 can happen on schedule-
Ao: I was gonna use that.
Jergal: Nuh uh.
Ao: FYM nuh uh
I wonder if Torius will do something silly like try to bring Mystryl back so they can fix the disaster that is this plane?
I mean I doubt it, but it would be an awesome "gotta save my mom" type quest.
It would go against Torius' morals. Mystryl isn't just dead, she's 'gone'. Mystra exists now and they can't really occupy the same spot in the divine cosmology. The world might fully and irreparably break one day, but Torius has no intention of being the one to do it.
It would go against Torius' morals. Mystryl isn't just dead, she's 'gone'. Mystra exists now and they can't really occupy the same spot in the divine cosmology. The world might fully and irreparably break one day, but Torius has no intention of being the one to do it.
Not even as a mortal? I could see not wanting to muck about with the position again, but the consciousness, and soul if the Gods have them, seems like something he might try to bring back. Not sure if it would be at all possible, but if it was, I could certainly see him trying it.
Not even as a mortal? I could see not wanting to muck about with the position again, but the consciousness, and soul if the Gods have them, seems like something he might try to bring back. Not sure if it would be at all possible, but if it was, I could certainly see him trying it.
Interesting proposal. I've got like three non-canon subplots spinning on top of a large amount of altered canon, so if I have room to make it work I'll take a crack at it.
No promises though; if it don't fit then that's what the cutting room is for.
I'll remind you that the Divine equivalent of Wish, namely Miracle, has in its description that it can imitate any Arcane spell up to 7th level, at the caster's level. So even spells that aren't domain spells are in Torius's arsenal.
(I used it in one campaign to end a siege: Using Miracle as a 'Stone To Mud' I turned the bottom of a tower in a Drow fortress into mud, which could neither hold its shape nor support the weight of all the stone on top of it. Down came the tower and in went the army.)
A +3 Holy Hand Crossbow. The arms and wood are dark in color, and the handle bears an etching of a black tulip. The silver string produces bolts on its own, and they deal magical silvered piercing damage. Against evil targets, it gains an additional +2 enhancement bonus (to a total of +5), and deals an extra 2d6 Holy damage. Three times per day, a bolt may be fired straight into the air to cast Rain of Black Tulips (Caster Level 20, DC 25).
A +2 Warning Keen Longsword. It grants an additional +5 to initiative, and Critical Damage on 17-20. The weapon deals Frostburn damage, and attack and weapon damage is calculated using Intelligence instead of Strength. On a critical hit, the target must succeed a Fortitude/Constitution Saving Throw (DC 30) or be turned into solid ice (as the spell Flesh to Ice). Unlike the spell, this is effective against constructs and undead.
How tf are the DCs so high? DCs for magic items in 3.5 are typically made at the minimum they can be (so normally a Flesh to Ice spell would be DC 17, since it's a level 5 spell and you need a minimum of 15 relevant spellcasting ability, which amounts to a +2).
How tf are the DCs so high? DCs for magic items in 3.5 are typically made at the minimum they can be (so normally a Flesh to Ice spell would be DC 17, since it's a level 5 spell and you need a minimum of 15 relevant spellcasting ability, which amounts to a +2).
I mean the crossbow also incorporates elements of Bane on the Holy enchantment and the sword deals Frostburn (aka Cold but untyped damage) and hits/hurts with Int instead of strength, so it's not the worst part of them.
Given the fic is 'Netherese Chosen in modern day using the oldest edition I'm familiar with' I could have done worse, but if it's that SoD breaking I can nerf 'em.
EDIT: And Nerfed. The Tulips are now DC 23 which is the minimum, and the crit flesh-ice is now DC 23, which while high can be explained by the spell being 'My Sword is Level 9 Frostfell'.
Huh I don't see any world where Sceleritas, butler of Bhaals favorite murder son, ever gets surprised, much less appalled by any level of violence. See the vivisection flashback eating nobleroot as Dark Urge gets you.
If anything I'd imagine him either getting sulky that Durge has replaced him with an obviously lesser murder buddy and/or begrudging admiration and an effort to bring both parties into Bhaals murderous light. (So demon goblin tsundere)
Huh I don't see any world where Sceleritas, butler of Bhaals favorite murder son, ever gets surprised, much less appalled by any level of violence. See the vivisection flashback eating nobleroot as Dark Urge gets you.
If anything I'd imagine him either getting sulky that Durge has replaced him with an obviously lesser murder buddy and/or begrudging admiration and an effort to bring both parties into Bhaals murderous light. (So demon goblin tsundere)
It's more the second, really. He's not appalled or surprised, he's concerned that a professed do-gooder might sway the young master onto the dark path of 'only to acceptable targets'. Because the spells Torius uses… well.
I ain't wrote much this week because L I F E but that's what a backlog's for.
I'll post Chapter 7 in a few hours after I'm off work.
I have a total of three chapters spanning the Swamp bit, including this one. So uh, my mother is having health issues and that plus work being On Fire set me back but I hope to re-up my backlog this weekend. Also, I introduce... not an OC!
Content Notes: Ethel gets Torius'd. Really Rough Spells get used, but it's not overtly graphic.
Pre-emptive note: The character I introduce here is not an 'OC' per se. I'm sure someone will get it, and she'll be far from the only one I throw in the mix.
____________________________
I saw it before I smelled it. The air seemed crisp and clear, but my eyes can't lie.
A fetid swamp, like Minauros in miniature stretched out before us. Grey and green and burbling, with vile dangers as far as the eye could see. "Tootsie."
"Right." She leapt face-first into the ground, burrowing and kicking up soil.
We were in hag country. If we were lucky, it would be solitary. If not, I would have the others wait while I disentangled the coven. They'd cut their teeth on lesser dangers, but they weren't ready for that yet. Not even with their surprisingly rapid growth.
"Hmm. Someone's got their guard up." Astarion leaned over me. "Care to share with the rest of us?"
"Something's wrong. This scenery isn't natural." Shadowheart glowered at the 'sunlight'. It still hung over the truth, a glimmering and welcoming wetland. I could barely make out the stench of rot and disease under it.
And that was when I saw the bodies. "Creccoth."
He looked at me as I pointed, and followed my finger. His eyes narrowed. "...the magic in this place is wild."
We approached the corpses. Two men, humans. From the look of it, they weren't trained fighters at all. Their throats were clawed out, likely by long talons. They didn't even merit a spell from their killer.
Well. Easier to interrogate, then.
"Hold."
I paused, light trailing from my fingertips as I looked up.
A vaguely feminine shape clad in armor emerged from behind a tree. She? They? Wore a hood with mouth covering, and the shadows were deep enough I could barely pierce them with my enchantments. Crimson eyes gazed back. I couldn't tell the skin color, but the eyes were brighter than Astarion's dried blood irises. Natural. Not many types of beings had those.
"And you are?" Creccoth asked, taking charge of this new situation.
"...if I had a name, it is no longer something I possess. Nor face, nor reputation. I am bereft of many things, save a history." The woman (or so I assumed), stepped forward. "If you must address me, 'Godless' will do."
I opened my senses towards her, seeking what magics she bore.
I found little. Her body was unchanged, she wore no illusions. She had enchanted arms and armor, and a few bits of jewelry. Perhaps some potions or something in her bag. What I did find was that I could easily place her combat prowess at higher than my companions.
"I see. Godless, then- do you know who or what did this?" Creccoth folded his arms.
Shadowheart hissed, grasping her wounded hand.
The shrouded woman took note. "A moment, first. The dead will keep, the living less so. Child- what ails you?"
Our cleric took a deep breath, and the shard of violet un-light receded. "It's nothing. I'm fine."
Godless watched her for a long moment. "So you say." I couldn't tell if it was disapproval, dismissal, or apathy in her tone. "I am somewhat trained in the arts of healing. I could be convinced to evaluate it, treat it if I am able." She looked to Creccoth. "You head into the domain of a dangerous creature. Turning back would be a wise course of action."
"Unfortunately, we're trying to find a specific area in this swamp. If we had a guide, we might be able to avoid said encounter?" Gale opened his hands as he spoke.
"She seems a mite shady, doesn't she?" Karlach tilted her head. "Not that we're a pack of heroes ourselves. 'Cept for Wyll, I guess."
The warlock smirked at Karlach. "Your recognition is gratifying." He looked at Godless. "My good woman, would this creature be able to outfight an avatar of Tiamat? If not, our eldest member should handle it in short order. Why, he bearded a devil in his own den in Avernus, and walked away without consequence only last night!" Wyll clapped my shoulder.
And Godless turned to me.
I blinked at her gormlessly. Best not to tip my hand too much.
"He seems rather young to be your eldest, but I shall withhold judgment. After all, of the lot of you he is the least likely to die against the Sister of the Seeing Pearl." Godless folded her arms. "Assuming, of course, he did all you said."
"Enough prattle. Tell us the nature of this 'danger' or stand aside." Lae'zel moved forward, hand on her blade.
Godless was unmoved. "Was I stopping you somehow? The road is wide enough. If you wish to pass, by all means move forward."
Sister of the Seeing Pearl… "You mean the hag, don't you?"
Her hooded head snapped to me.
"Booby traps, illusory terrain, and I'd bet the water's contaminated. This is the territory of a green hag." I nodded at the corpses. "And I'm willing to assume this was the work of her claws."
Shadowheart gave me an appraising look. "It does fit rather neatly, does it not? And you mentioned seeing such a creature at the Emerald Grove, peddling her potions."
"Meaning we've made an accidental house call." Astarion's lip curled. "Delightful. I've always wanted a malicious fey to pluck my bones and drink my marrow."
"The hag is a secondary concern, if any. We need to find Olodan and Kagha's meeting place and search it for evidence." Creccoth's hand sliced through the air.
"If you have a map, I could give you a safe route."
We turned back to Godless, who now stood in Creccoth's space. I noted the mace that swung at her hip, and the massive shield across her back.
"Miss, if it's so dangerous- why're you here alone?" Karlach asked. "After what those poor lads got, I'd want to bring a friend at least."
"Which assumes I have a friend to bring, or that I need fear the fey." Godless shook her head. "I've been at this quite some time, you see. Surviving. I followed a lead here, and it yielded nothing. My search continues."
"A lead to what? Perhaps we can help," Creccoth offered.
Astarion's nose wrinkled, but I leaned over. "Bar me, she's the strongest one here. She could likely light you all up with five words and a pointy finger. Not a bad ally to have." At my whisper, his expression smoothed into a pleasant smile.
"As I said, my face and name are no longer mine. I crossed the wrong divinity, you see. And so I search for a means to reclaim them. What I retain are power and memory." I could feel the mirthless smile on the woman's face. "Though I consider myself a pragmatist, I do have some scruples. That and my refusal to die peacefully are my own downfall I fear."
"If it's a curse, I can disjoin it?" I offered.
She looked at me again. "No curse but that upon the tongues of others. But if you must know: I seek passage to Baldur's Gate. It has been no small time since last I went, and only memories await. But a means to reclaim all I've lost may be there." She looked at Shadowheart for a long moment. Her gaze took in the cleric's features. "Hm. With all of that said… I believe in these times proper accompaniment may make travel more secure. I offer you- collectively- an alliance. My power to yours. Whatever your ultimate destination, I shall see you to it. In turn, you shall see me to the city of Baldur's Gate."
I perked up. "Well you see, it's rather-" Shadowheart covered my mouth.
Godless peered at her.
"Apologies. Torius tends to have a better intuition for what should and should not be shared with strangers." She gave me a flat look. "After all, you told me that druid would not look kindly on such things, no?"
I waved my hands at Godless.
"Each of us has our own dilemma. One which encompasses most of us, and each our own." Creccoth nodded. "I myself lack memory, and am often moved by murderous impulse."
Godless' head turned to him at that. "...is that so?" Her voice was soft. "Tell me… do you have a disturbance in your intestines? As though a throb?"
Creccoth froze, eyes wide. "I. Yes."
Slowly she nodded. "I may be of help to you, then. I've had… a patient… with similar symptoms."
I tugged at Shadowheart's hand, but she held it firmly with a sidelong look at me.
"Well, if we're spilling it all- Karlach's a refugee from the Blood War, Wyll is a warlock, Gale has a magical explosive that could level the coast in his chest, Shadowheart has some artifact she needs to deliver to Baldur's Gate for her god, Lae'zel seeks a Githyanki creche, and I am a vampire spawn." Astarion wiggled his fingers with a wide smile, showing off his teeth. "Behold, a traveling madhouse!"
The reactions of exasperation were expected from our companions, as was Shadowheart letting me go to hold her head in her hand.
I didn't expect what happened next.
Godless… laughed. Her shoulders shook, and her crossed arms fell. "Ah! It is as though I am a hundred years ago. Well met, children. Well met, indeed." Even with her face covered, I could tell she was smiling.
"Also there's a mind flayer infestation that's been modified by a Karsite artifact to make thralls instead of mind flayers. I have an artifact to protect people who're infected from transforming and domination, though!" I chirped. I held the Mind Shielder up.
The woman shook her head. "I lack the need for such a thing, thankfully. Poor as my luck may turn, at least I am spared that misfortune."
"Goodie for you. So? Hag first, or espionage?" Astarion glanced at me. "Can we kill the hag? And by we, I mean you of course."
"You just want to see him finally cut loose," Shadowheart accused.
"Yes? And?" Astarion raised his eyebrows.
"He's definitely the real deal. I had an infernal engine in here, and he pulled it out. Grew my heart back and all," Karlach boasted, thumping her chest. "Though if you need us to keep any of her minions off your back while you work, we can do that." She paused. "There are minions, right?"
"Baa."
As one, we all turned.
I was sure the others saw a sheep. I saw the redcap, the murderous fey, underneath.
"Hsss. Baaa."
Slowly, I smiled.
The tiny monster's eyes narrowed.
"How fortuitous!" I chirped.
It dropped into a crouch.
"Tootsie loves mutton."
And like magic, the badger burst from the ground, drawing the redcap back under with her in a spray of blood.
"BAAAGHL!?"
The others slowly turned to me. I kept smiling.
"The teahouse is that way," Godless said. The smile remained in her voice, but her bearing was now far more confident.
____________________________________________________________________________
Shadowheart
"Hag. Hag. Hag."
You glance back, somehow managing not to check for parasites in your armor. Karlach is chanting quietly as you make your way through the swamp. With the illusion gone it's muggy, buggy, and downright uncomfortable. At least they're entertained.
Godless is dangerous. You overheard Torius' whisper to Astarion, and you didn't need your goddess' reminder to keep your distance.
"Violet- and not quite light. More shadow. So the Shadow Weave itself ails you, child?"
Think of the devil and she will appear. And she is cunning and knowledgeable.
"It is mine to bear. It won't slow me down." You look at her. Her face is hidden, and she is poised. Not giving a single thing she does not intend to, a perfect shadow that could blend, strike, or mingle at need.
Everything you never were, back in your training. The memory flutters, unbidden, before it is once more consumed.
You turn away, and gaze ahead. Torius leans near Creccoth, and you can make out faint whispers.
Something will give. Astarion openly fawns over Torius, but his attempts at seduction fall flat. His prodding of Creccoth is more fruitful, and his attempts to insinuate himself with the strongest of the group are crystal clear to you. Though, despite his seduction failing it seems the rest of him has endeared Torius if the smile is of any indication.
Torius is drawn to Creccoth like a moth to flame, and Creccoth responds in his way. Creccoth possesses a drive and focus that Torius lacks. For all his power, Torius needs direction- direction which Creccoth can safely give. Astarion less so. He is drunk on his newfound freedom, and Torius would only indulge him to the edge of his morals and desires.
Creccoth admires Astarion's beauty, but the vampire's restless malice puts him off balance. He is entertained and attracted, but wary. He sees something below the surface you cannot, but it is yet deep enough to be immaterial. Likewise, he is protective of Torius- not only for the aid the archivist gives, but for the vulnerability he willingly offers.
Those three will either become a terror on the face of Toril, or crash and burn. A terror to whom, though- that is a better question.
A chill breeze breaks the humidity, and every hair on your neck stands on end.
Before you is a teahouse, though you notice a man off to the side.
"Hail, strangers!" He waves.
Astarion's cheer immediately vanishes, and his lip curls in disdain.
His dirty blond hair and goatee mark him as older for a human, and the smell around him is rank.
"Apologies for the smell. Powdered iron-vine- to keep monsters from getting any ideas about eating me," the man offers cheerfully. "I'm a monster hunter by trade."
"A Gur? And here I thought all your people were vagabond cutthroats," Astarion sneers.
Torius' eyebrows shoot up at the venom in the vampire's voice, and he turns to him. "Really?" The chastisement is gentle, but Astarion stands from his near-hunched position.
"No worries, lad. Your friend's likely heard of the tales of my people- stories of stolen daughters and cursed crops. Alas, I've no such power, and need to use more mundane tactics to stalk my prey."
Creccoth folds his arms. "And what brings you to this swamp?"
You chance a look at Godless. She watches the proceedings quietly while Karlach and Wyll mutter to each other. Despite the former being the latter's prey all of a night ago, once the spark of conflict was snuffed they became fast friends.
"Truly fearsome quarry, I presume. A dragon? A cyclops? A flumph, perhaps?" Astarion's vitriol could strip paint. He might be a bit further from immediate violence, but he holds something against the Gur people. This isn't simple bigotry; this is a reaction from a poor history.
"Nothing so dangerous, I'm afraid. Just a vampire spawn."
You can feel the mood of your companions shift immediately at that.
"Without a master vampire?" Torius asks, incredulous. "Given we're in hag country, the likelihood of them coexisting is nil. If a vampire moved into the area, she'd raise a coven and all sorts of hell."
"This one is special, I hear. He managed to get away despite the master's hold. Admittedly, it's not the norm."
Astarion stares at Torius, shoulders taut.
"Still doesn't explain why you're here of all places. And during the day? No vampire, spawn or otherwise, can survive sunlight." Something is off. Torius' words are smooth and silky, and even though you know the facts, the half-truths seem to cling to your ears like the words of the Dark Lady imparted to you by the Mother Superior.
"Well, it wouldn't hurt to explain. The spawn's name is Astarion, and I'm meant to bring him back to my people in Baldur's gate."
Astarion reaches back for a dagger.
"Whatever for? Your own purposes?" Butter wouldn't melt in Torius' mouth. Creccoth stands nearby, silently supporting whatever he is doing.
"He knows things. We followed a lead out here." The human is getting antsy. "The why of it is deeply personal."
"Of course," Torius murmurs, smiling gently. "One last thing: this lead, where did it come from? After all, this is a great way from home, no? I would be suspicious of anything that would send me so far afield without concrete details."
The man pauses, visibly brought to a halt. "...I…"
Torius' smile remains, placid. "Perhaps you should retrace your steps, and consider what you know. If Astarion is not in this part of the coast, you've left your people a pair of hands short. If he is, then who else might want him back in Baldur's Gate?"
With a harsh blink, the human nods. He exhales sharply. "I need to go. Please excuse me."
"Take care!" Torius calls, waving faintly at the man's retreating back.
After a few moments, Torius screws his face up. Once the man is fully out of hearing range, he spits. "Blaugh. Glibness is useful, but hard as hell for me to use. I'm a shit liar, and even with that spell it's a pain. The best I can do is redirect."
Astarion simply stares at him for a moment. "You know, for a moment there I thought you'd sell me out."
Torius looks at him, face scrunched in confusion. "What? The hells would I do that for? Even if you did wrong him and his, it was likely at the order of the one who bit you. Unless a lot has changed since Netheril, that still holds true, yeah?"
"Netheril?" Godless murmurs.
"This is true," Astarion says softly. "But I am hardly a paragon on my own." He's quiet. "Gur killed me. Beat me to an inch of my life, and Cazador saved me. Offered me eternity."
"And eternity was longer than you considered at death's door." Creccoth offers neither revulsion nor pity.
Astarion looks at the rest of you. "There have been times in the past two hundred years where I considered I may have made a slight error in judgment," he drawls, trying to draw a shield of black humor.
"Must have been the blood loss," Torius quips dryly.
Astarion lets out a startled bark of laughter, only to smile at Torius. There's a shocking flicker of sincerity there, if for a heartbeat. "Must have. Well! After that, a bit of hag-slaying is in order, surely? And do make it flashy." He flutters his eyelashes at the archivist.
Torius looks to Creccoth, who nods. The young(?) man grins, something feral and deadly in his smile. "Well! Now then!" He runs up to the door and swings it open violently.
"Oh! Goodness petal, you nearly scared the life out of me!"
"Apologies, Auntie. Say, wanna see a magic trick?"
I let out a happy sigh as the hag wailed, disguise broken. Her blood pools on the floor, veins and arteries swollen and torn from her flesh. She is bound in her own circulatory system, writhing in agony.
"Stop! Please!" A young woman stumbles from a table, clutching her stomach. Pregnant.
The fury swells within me again. "Oh you rotten shit," I hiss at the fey. "You must have offered her something dear for her child."
"Sweet hells!" Gale's gasp doesn't dissuade me.
The hag struggles to raise an arm, but it's glued in place by blood and sinew.
"Torius!" Creccoth booms.
"She was going to eat the babe!" I snarl, pointing at the hag. "Hags reproduce by ingesting a victim, digesting them, reconstituting, and disgorging new hags."
The woman stops moving. Stops speaking. She stares at the hag. Then she looks at me. "What."
"And what concern is it to you?" the hag hisses. "You were all too happy to turn the whelp over for your husband, or did you forget?"
"You said you'd raise my baby and teach them magic!"
"Exact. Words! Does nobody pay attention to them!?" I threw my hands up. "Devils and Fey alike!"
I ignored Wyll's abashed cough.
"Well, you're in a pickle now, Mayrina-" the hag rasped, trying to regain control of the situation.
"Ah. Mayrina. So you're the sister of the men Ethel killed." Godless made herself known, standing at my side. "What a tragedy." There was no inflection to it, neither sarcasm nor pity. Simply a statement.
The woman, Mayrina, looked at Ethel in horror. "You monster. You deserve worse." She whirled to me. "Can you? Do worse?"
I could, but I wouldn't. "I'd rather just kill her and wash my hands of it, really. I only used this spell because I wanted to cow her and keep her from doing anything clever." I looked down.
Ethel gazed up at me, eyes full of hate. "You saw right through me at the Grove, didn't you petal? Bloody clever clogs. You stink of seven and a half gods, and twice as many again. And under it all is bloody Netheril. You're that little scamp that tore out Maggie's hair, then?"
Well. That's a bit of trivia I never expected to come up.
Ethel grinned. "So you know what I offer is true. Let me go- let me take the babe-"
"One per customer," I droned, holding a hand up. I looked back at the others.
Gale was pale, eyes wide. Wyll was unmoved by the plight of a child-eater. Karlach looked as one who had seen worse, and Shadowheart clearly wanted me to get on with it. Godless was, as I'd come to expect in the past hour, inscrutable.
Lae'zel licked her lips, staring me down. Astarion's cheeks nearly flushed, eyes wide. Creccoth shifted uncomfortably. I wasn't sure if it was because he disapproved, or if he approved a little too much.
I looked back down at Ethel. "It only works the once, and looking at your head I've done too much damage to harvest any. I'm sure you'll be back, but we'll call this a lesson for if you decide to do any 'hagging' in my general vicinity."
Ethel's eyes went wide.
I curled my hand through the air, only to point at her. "Bloop."
Her body collapsed in on itself, a crack of thunder, a crunch and a shatter and a gush upon the floor of everything liquified as she imploded.
The puddle of disgusting slurry was utterly inert. It went without saying, but Ethel would not be using this particular corpus to bother us in the near future.
Astarion let out a breathless sigh. "Sweet hells," he whispered in a completely different tone from Gale.
I turned to Mayrina. "So, my good lady! What's this about a husband?"
She tore her eyes from Ethel. "She was going to bring him back. His body is outside."
Raising the dead, huh. I grinned. "And how long has it been?"
"A month…?" She was hesitant, but hope still stirred in her.
The men back in the swamp were gone. Regretful, but not likely to come back. But for a woman in danger and their child, nearly eaten by a hag? That was certainly something I could work with.
My grin widened. "Would you like to see a nicer magic trick?"
____________________________________________________________________________
"If you need anything, we live near Baldur's Gate in Rivington! We'll happily put you up if you need a place to stay, there!" Connor called back. He was a handsome youth, one I would have happily made a pass at if he was unattended.
Mayrina waved wildly as the carriage I conjured rattled gently along under them, pulled by smoky horses. "Thank you! Thank you so much! I'll name the babe after you!" she screamed.
"The transport spell's got eight hours, make them count!" I roared back as they rattled down the road in a blur. It took seconds for them to be out of sight once they picked up steam.
I stumbled as Astarion latched onto my back. "Darling, I thought you'd call down an ice storm or some such, but I asked for violence and you delivered," he sighed in my ear. "I've never seen such brutality. It actually made up for that sickening display of altruism you performed immediately after!"
"Astarion?"
"Hmm?"
"I beat the tar out of an Avatar of Tiamat. Including attendant dragons. I'm fucking rich; a piddly diamond like that is a drop in the bucket."
He pulled back and turned me around.
"You what."
"I don't have a demiplane for my health, dingus!" I poked his forehead. "It has time dilation for crafting and space dilation for storage."
Tootsie emerged from the ground. "Whoo-ee. Smells like that time you turned Mad Maggie into a slushy for Glasya to drink. Didn't stick, but was a nightmare to watch." She gave me a narrow glare. "You been misbehaving again, Our Torius?"
"No m'am!" I stood ramrod straight.
"Been pulling on hag's hair?"
"No m'am!"
Shadowheart coughed, looking away with a small smirk.
Gale sighed. "Well. This was all very… tiring."
"We're not done though?" I blinked at him.
"We're not. Of course we're not. Why are we not done, then?" Gale planted his hands on his hips.
"So my favorite pastime is killing old evil things and helping their victims. Painfully enough so they manage to get some regret in before they kick it."
Karlach nodded along. "Makes sense."
"I would say this qualifies, yes." Wyll glanced at the teahouse. "Though that was perturbing, I'll admit."
"I'll be cleaner next time." I waved his comment away.
"If you so choose." Lae'zel's gaze was intense. Is she going to try and pick a fight with me? It sounded like she liked me earlier, so I honestly have no clue what's going on there.
"Right, so that's the favorite. Second favorite is taking all their shit that's not nailed down. Now, the general lotions and potions are up here. There's probably more victims and goodies through that fireplace."
"...this is going to be a recurring theme, isn't it." Creccoth wasn't asking, but he didn't seem unhappy either.
"I am Torius Ancast. I kill evil things. I steal their shit. I occasionally help and save people. And then I go to sleep so I can do it all again the next day." I gave a mocking half-bow. "And that is why I have enough gold, platinum, and gems to fund a duchy for the next two thousand years. Not to mention all sorts of spell components and bric-a-brac every aspiring craftsman needs."
"I am marrying him, all of you hands off." Astarion pointed at the others, only to pause at Creccoth. "Except maybe you. You're alright."
I shook my head at the joke. "Anyways. I'll lead the way, then we clear this place out. It's been a nice little hike, so we can call a break after?"
"Tomorrow we get the proof, pause at the village if anything comes up during our travel, then double back to the Grove. See if Zorru is around to question. After that, we go save Halsin and Volo." Creccoth listed the itinerary off of his fingers. For some reason his eyes kept lingering on me.
"Who?"
"Shadowheart, you explain," I waved at the cleric who made a sound of protest. "I'm gonna go see whose lives I can salvage from whatever museum of horrors is back there. All hags have one if they're the deal-y type. It's basically a given."
