Chapter Text
Night is already falling by the time Tavares has all their gear sorted. It's required a bit of begging, a bit of flirting, and quite a bit of sob-storying, but he's managed to scrounge up at least a few tents for them all, some food. Whatever the refugees weren't able to donate, he's managed to purchase from the druids, despite the suspicious looks that keep getting thrown his way.
At least the druids don't appear to be violent, just yet. No doubt the situation will worsen, but it's not like they've started running the tieflings out yet. The sooner Zevlor can get his people recovered, the sooner they can run. If he can get these tadpoles sorted, he'll probably see if the hellrider will let him travel with them. At the very least, he can be a makeshift healer, maybe keep a few of the kids entertained. It seems they're a bunch of right troublemakers, as all children should be.
Running through cobbled streets, chasing her, hot on her heels. Her laughter in the sunlight, as she pulls him into an alleyway. He's terrified, never done something like this before, but she shushes him, says, "It's not like we stole it, just don't want Mum to know we spoiled dinner. Yeah?"
Half a hand pie, held out to him. He looks up to warm yellow eyes-
He bites his tongue. No use dreaming of the dead, now. Up ahead, at the gates to the Grove, Shadowheart winces and holds her head - so she's the intruder, unwillingly brought along for the tadpole's ride. She makes eye contact with him, and he shrugs.
"Old friend of mine," he calls out when he's close enough. "She was the reason I turned out such a little shit."
"What the fuck are you talking about, dear?" Astarion asks, glancing up from where he's been cleaning his nails with a knife.
"I had a glimpse of... something," Shadowheart murmurs. "She seems nice."
"Yeah. She was." He drops the tents and materials at their feet, his subtle way of telling her to end the conversation. "Should be bedrolls, tents, bit of rations - might be stale but it's all they could afford and the druids said they couldn't spare anymore for a vagrant devilkin like myself."
"I only count five tents," Gale says, as Lae'zel and Shadowheart both descend and start gathering their supplies.
"Only had five to spare. Sixth needs major repair, I took it off their hands but we'll see if it's usable. I'll find a nice tree to cuddle."
"Are you sure?" the dragonborn asks, halfway through stuffing a bedroll into his pack.
"Sure. Little camping never hurt a man." He shrugs, rolls his shoulders. "I'll see if there's anything else I can scrounge up before we go make camp. Gale, you sure-"
"Yes, I'm sure I found a good place to camp," the wizard sighs. "I only hope we make it there before the goblins start to investigate."
"They should be warned off here for a while," the dragonborn hums, tilting his head back to sniff the air. "The scent of blood carries, they'll be hesitant to send out another scouting party if they know what's good for them."
The wizard gives him a side-eyed glance, but then nods. "I'll- take your word for it."
"I know a lot about blood."
Astarion gives him a look. "And just what is that supposed to mean?"
The dragonborn blinks. "Erm. I've- done a lot of fighting, is all."
Tavares leaves them to their weird-ass conversation. He wants to find a map, if he can - a map, a compass, maybe some proper lanterns or longer-lasting torches if he can. He wanders back towards where Mattis is set up, wondering if the kid might know where he should be looking.
"Not bad," comes a voice - approving, but not familiar with its subject. "Again."
The smack of steel against steel. Tav glances up, just by instinct, to the man beside him - the Blade of Frontiers - standing in the wooden training area holding a blade to one of the other tiefling children, who's sparring with him. They thrust at him, he parries, and like it's nothing, taps his blade against their chest. A failure.
Not the first. The child groans, almost drops their sword. "I can't do it. I'm not like you."
The man eases, kneels to get at their eye level. "Umi. I don't need you to be like me," he reassures. "You just have to buy enough time to run."
The kid doesn't look particularly convinced. His time to shine. He steps closer, folds his arms on the floor of the training area and rests his chin on his arms. "He's got a point, y'know. If you can get the parry down, it'll give you a good few seconds to go find someone with a bigger sword. Bigger the sword, better the chance of keeping you safe."
The kid shoots him a suspicious look, but it gives the Blade a chance to swing back in. "You're on the right path," he reassures, as he stands. "Go on, now. Practice what you've learned."
The man nods to the side, and Tavares steps back to fully join him on the platform. The kid, Umi, is now working through the motions of a parry against one of the stuffed dummies they've set up. "Well met," the man says, a warm and trusting smile on his face. He draws his arm up to his chest. "The Blade of Frontiers, at your ser-"
Racing through the wastes of Avernus, blade in one hand, the other preparing a blast of eldritch power. Chasing her, hot on her heels, blazing with flame, raising her bloodied greataxe high before she swipes at you. Hard yellow eyes meet yours.
Both Tavares and the Blade of Frontiers stumble back, groaning. While the other man holds his head, trying to shake out the feeling of intrusion, Tav just stares. Because that- it couldn't have been.
"Who is she?" he blurts out. "The woman- in your thoughts. I saw them, you- saw some of mine, I'd imagine."
The Blade straightens, his face falling into a deep frown. "Advocatus diaboli. Her name is Karlach. An archdevil's soldier I swore on my good eye to kill."
His heart skips a beat. Karlach. Karlach Cliffgate. Warm-eyed and full of life, swinging at another man who hunts her through the Hells, the Hells, how could she be in the Hells when he'd never found her-
"I tracked her through the Hells to the mind flayer ship. But the damned illithids infected me before I could end her," the Blade continues, blissfully unaware of the panic attack Tav's having. "She's out there now, preying on the innocent. I don't kill her, she'll leave behind nothing but a trail of corpses."
That's not right.
"You- have much experience with her, then?" Tav asks, trying to keep his voice steady.
"I've been hunting her for a few weeks, now. She's fast - but she won't stay out of my reach forever." He smiles, like that's meant to reassure him.
Fuck, it probably is supposed to reassure him. He scrambles for his mask, for the easy smile he settles over his face to hide his racing heart. Then he ditches it, probably nothing to smile about here - aims for a neutrally concerned face instead. "You have a mind flayer tadpole in your head. Doesn't that... worry you? At all?"
"I'd be a fool if it didn't. I know the stories, doomed to shed my skin, become illithid. And there's no coming back. But I haven't sprouted any tentacles - least, not yet, thank Balduran." He shrugs. "Could just be good luck. But sooner or later, it's bound to run out."
Tavares clears his throat. "Well. Good luck on your- devil problem. It seems you've your work cut out for you." He gives a little chuckle that he doesn't feel in the slightest. "It's time for me and my compatriots to be heading out, I think."
The Blade of Frontiers nods. "Well met - and call on me if you find a fix for this affliction of ours." He smiles. "Might even join you, once that devil's met my blade."
"Of course. If you do, you'll- I'm sure you can find us."
He swallows his panic, turns his tail, and forces himself to walk back to the gates. As soon as he hears the man turn back to the children, he picks up the pace. The others are all sitting around, idly waiting. Lae'zel opens her mouth, probably to cuss him out for taking so long, but he doesn't let her reply, just grabs his pack and swings it onto his shoulders. "Let's go," he says quickly. "C'mon, let's- we need to go. Now."
"Finally. A sense of urgency," the githyanki mutters, as the gates to the grove slowly raise.