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“That is…that is so far down.” You peer over the edge and beyond the shoddy ladder that leads into the Underdark. It only hit you then that you’d have to actually climb down yourself. There’s a particularly sickening twist in your stomach at the thought.
Now would be a nice time to pass out and just magically wake up down there, carried by one of your faithful and kind companions. You’re careful not to get too close to peer down into the darkness—pitch black darkness not illuminated with fancy mushrooms and crystals like you thought it would be.
“And there’s no other way down? An elevator perhaps?” You know very well there’s one in the Zhekarim hideout, but you can’t exactly come out and say that. Wyll, Lae’zel, and Shadowheart had learned of the duke’s kidnapping, but the hideout went unmentioned. Looking down at the expanse of nothing is making you reconsider telling them the whole truth.
“You can ride on my back if you want,” Tav suggests.
While you don’t doubt his strength, you doubt your own. You’d have to wrap around him with arms and legs, and chances were you might squeeze the life out of him doing so.
“No, I can…I can climb down,” you say. Karlach had fashioned together a holster for your staff with some of the scraps of armour from the goblins. It now sat comfortably on your back, the strap coming over your shoulder and under the opposite arm. Your hands were completely free to hold the ladder.
“I have a scroll of Feather Fall, so that if we should slip, we’ll be fine.” Gale pulled a scroll from beneath his robes and read it aloud. With a couple motions of one hand a blue light lit up the area then faded. You feel the static of Weave around you, but you weren’t about to test it.
Most went down before you: Karlach, who jumped almost as soon as Gale completed the spell, followed by, of all people, Lae’zel who also jumped with Scratch in her arms. He howls the whole way down; happy or terrified you can’t tell. Gale, Astarion, and Wyll choose to take the ladder, then Shadowheart, Halsin, and only you and Tav are left.
“After you,” he says, holding an arm towards the ladder. If it could hold Halsin then you would be fine, but you still swallowed thickly at the thought of falling. You were slow to move forward, wishing you could be as fearless as Karlach and Lae’zel.
The wood is rough against your fingers but nothing shakes as you put your full weight on the rungs. After a few feet Tav joins you, and you learn why he was last to go. Because knowing him, he would have jumped even before Gale cast Feather Fall.
Tav wraps his tail around your upper right arm. You hesitate and look up at him, just above you and he gives you a smile. The grip of his tail is tight enough to give you some reassurance for your trip downward. Something about the protective gesture makes your chest twinge, a lump forming in your throat. You gulp it down as best you can, telling yourself it’s the fear of the fall.
Your pace is much slower than the others, but Tav keeps pace with you the entire time, his tail occasionally readjusting around your arm.
About halfway down you begin to see the purple, blue, and green glow of the Underdark. You’re careful to keep your attention on the ladder. Only when Tav releases your arm do you find yourself a step away from the ground.
You let out a heavy sigh once your feet are firmly planted on the old, cracked stones of the temple. Tav jumps down beside you. “Not so bad, right?”
“No. But thanks.”
“I don’t care what people say about the Underdark,” Shadowheart says, “this place is beautiful.”
Even without the braziers lit, the glow of the moonstone on the statue of Selune as well as the mushrooms and crystals is enough to see by. Shadowheart is right, the world here is just as beautiful, if not more so, as in the game. You never wondered what it might smell like in the Underdark, but it’s somewhat…fresh. Not fresh like on the surface, the air is a little heavier, but there is thankfully no musty stench or stagnant water like at the druids grove.
As the group begins to explore the area, Gale and Karlach light up a few of the braziers. Shadowheart suggests setting up camp in the old temple due to the limited entry points. Should anyone come looking for trouble it would be easy to defend.
A few things happen as you expect—the minotaur attacking the gate, the group finding an alternate route out on the left side, camp being set up stupidly fast. Nothing much has happened but after the long walk to the goblin camp and then down the ladder, you were wiped. As much as some members wanted to get moving, Tav said it would be best to rest for the night, if it was night, and start fresh in the morning. Whenever that may be.
You spent much of your time with Scratch, who was more than happy to retrieve a ball as many times as you threw it. You sit on your bedroll within your tent, the flaps held open so you can continue to play. Eventually you spot Tav watching you from around a corner, eyes pleading.
“You know,” Astarion says, appearing in your view. You flinch at his sudden appearance but he just continues, “It may be time to forgive him.”
You throw the ball again, watching Scratch bound away with a little less energy than earlier.
“Do you forgive him?” you ask. Astarion steps into your tent and takes a seat next to you, stretching one leg out and wrapping his arms around the other.
“Bigger fish to fry, my dear,” he replies. You press your lips into a line, your anger already faded. Auntie Ethel had really taken the wind out of your furious sails. Astarion adds, “I must say I’m flattered you’re so upset on my behalf.”
“It was a shitty thing to do.” You pull your knees to your chest, watching as Scratch gets distracted on his way back by whatever Gale is preparing for dinner.
“I’m not disagreeing, but he seems thoroughly punished. You did throw a redcap at him.” The vampire smiles fondly at the memory before catching himself, hardening his features.
You peek at the tiefling, noting he’s moved from behind a wall to behind a barrel a few feet closer.
You try not to laugh but the smile is creeping stronger across your face. “He’s not stealthy, is he?”
“He’s a barbarian,” Astarion says. “But let’s tease him, shall we?”
You don’t get a chance to question what he means when you feel long fingers stroke along your neck, cupping the back of your head as Astarion pulls you closer. Your heart skips a beat before it starts to hammer, his fangs dragging along your neck but away from the pulse point. If he was going to bite you, which you doubted, he didn’t get the chance when a blur of brown and gray tackles him to the floor of your tent.
“I said no biting!” Tav yells. He’s sitting on top of Astarion, pulling the collar of the vampire's clothes up with both fists. His usual silly demeanour is gone, replaced with a lip-curling snarl.
The suddenness of his tackle knocks you back, and you’re forced to catch yourself before you fall completely. Your palms are flat on the ground, mind trying to keep up with what’s happening.
Astarion raises his hands in surrender, a sly grin showing his fangs. “Whatever do you mean?”
“If you need blood, you get it from me. That’s the deal.” Tav shoves Astarion down, standing and glaring down at him. You blink, eyes darting between the two.
Astarion stands as well, brushing off imaginary dirt from his clothes before straightening his collar. “I wasn’t going to bite. Not hard enough to break skin, anyway.”
Tav crosses his arms, glare faltering to show an emotion you can’t identify. Confusion, or hurt, maybe? You stand. The rest of the camp has eyes on you now, too.
It’s weird to see Tav angry. Sad and pouting, laughing and fighting, those suited him better. But maybe, just maybe, angry and protective was an equally good look on him. Even if it was foreign.
But you also have no idea how to step between the two and deescalate the situation. Whatever this situation is.
“I said he could feed on me if he needed it,” you finally say. The men look at you. “Though I did specify from the wrist.”
Astarion shrugs, hands held up as the total picture of innocence.
“And I told him he needs to feed off me,” Tav argues. When he faces you his features soften. He takes a step forward, arms unfolding and reaching towards you before letting them fall to his sides. “You don’t owe him anything.”
Your brow furrows. “I know. Why would I owe him?”
“I’ve heard you two talking about you owing him,” Tav says.
It takes you a moment to remember what he’s talking about. “Oh! For getting my gold back. That’s not why I did it. The first feeding I mean.”
Now Tav looks as confused as you feel, and so does Astarion for that matter. The vampire asks quietly, “Then why…?”
“Because you needed blood?” Your eyes bounce between them, unable to gauge their thoughts. It wasn’t that weird you let him feed off you, right? After all, Tav was ready to do the same.
Astarion huffs, something between incredulous and genuine humour. “And you just offered yourself up out of the goodness of your heart.”
It wasn’t a question, but you reply, “Yeah.”
Astarion frowns, red eyes roaming your features as if trying to find any indication you’re lying. Tav is doing the same. You can’t help but squirm beneath their scrutiny, a pit of guilt forming in your stomach.
“Some people are good.” Karlach stands just outside your tent, smiling like the cat that caught the canary. “It’s easy to forget that there are people out there that do nice things just because.”
You scratch the back of your head, letting her argue on your behalf. Astarion needed blood, so you gave him blood. Gale needed something with magic, so you gave him the braces and offered your boots. It wasn’t that weird to offer basic kindness.
Well…you think of all the things in the game and remind yourself where you are. Kindness, to this group at least, usually involved give and take.
Wyll steps up next to Karlach. Before he can offer his two cents you start to side-step out of the tent. “I’m just gonna…go wait elsewhere until dinner is ready. You guys…just don’t kill each other.”
Before anyone can argue you mouth a quick “thank you” to Karlach for the distraction and hurry off. You climb the stone steps towards the front of the base, find the ladder, and scurry up. Once at the top you feel like you can breathe a little easier, alone at last. Though it would be nice if Scratch were with you…he’s still busy guarding the cook pot.
“Your companions care for you deeply.”
You startle at the voice. Halsin, despite his size, had escaped your vision as he sat leaning against a crate, chunk of wood and knife in hand.
“Would you care to join me?” he asks. He only glances away from his task to ask the question.
You do, sitting next to him and resting your head against the crate with your legs outstretched. The bruises on your back ache, reminding you of just how long the healing process is even with magic and potions.
You’re both facing into the base rather than into the Underdark. Halsin sets down his tools to give you his full attention. “I haven’t gotten to properly thank you for what you did at the goblin camp.”
“Oh, you don’t have to,” you begin, trying to wave him off. Honestly you’ve had enough of people telling you how good and kind you were when you were lying to all of them.
“I want to,” Halsin says, predictably. “You could have easily turned a blind eye but you came to my aid. My defence.”
Caving, you say, “You’re welcome. But I don’t want anything in return—plus you did heal me after. We’re even.”
There’s a lull in the conversation as Halsin concedes to your wishes. But you can’t stop yourself from asking, “Am I totally insane? For what I’ve done?”
“You mean helping your friends,” the druid clarifies. “Karlach told me of what you’ve done for Astarion, and I saw what you did for Gale, as well as myself.”
You nod. “It’s normal to help people.”
Halsin gives you a smile that makes you feel like a child. You were, compared to his hundreds of years of life, but it makes you feel small, too.
“I wish it were so simple,” he says, “and that more think as you do. But it’s rare to find someone that gives without asking for anything in return. Especially with what you’ve given.”
You furrow your brow, a frown forming as you face forward. As you adjust yourself you find a splinter of wood from the crate poking into the centre of one of your bruises and you shift again. You quickly give up leaning on the crate and sit up, legs crossed.
“Halsin,” you begin, but you can’t find the words. You aren’t sure what you were going to ask, but Gandrel’s bloodied face is all you can see in your mind's eye. If you’re capable of that you’re definitely not worthy of all this praise. “Nevermind.”
“You’re still hurt.” It’s not a question.
“Just some bruises,” you reply. You rub a hand over your back, pinpointing the exact spots the goblins had jabbed you hard. “You and Shadowheart have healed me enough. You should save your strength for when Tav leaps into serious danger.”
Considering what was only a few hundred feet to the left of the base, and everything else in the Underdark, he will need it.