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The Owlbear’s Cave
“Alright,” Tav said as she carefully placed the treasures back inside the chest and wedged it inside her magic pack. “Let's keep going. If this little trove went unnoticed by the goblins, who knows what else might be in the nest itself.”
Shadowheart scoffed but the others all looked eager and excited as Gale knelt to boost Wyll and Tav up the rough rock wall. Lae'zel simply jumped, easily clearing the ledge, while Astarion gave the wizard a withering look and climbed up himself, with Gale and Shadowheart close behind.
“You're sure it's dead, Astarion?” Tav muttered as they made their way deeper into the cave. “The owlbear? You can’t hear anything?”
“It’s silent as the grave, darling,” he replied, the stench of rot sticking in his nose.
“Hopefully he didn't just pop out for lunch,” Gale said in a worried tone.
Wyll, leading the group with his rapier drawn, peered around the corner and made a tutting noise, putting his weapon back inside his scabbard.
“No such luck for the poor thing,” he called over his shoulder. “Gods, look at the size of it.”
Trying to hold his breath against the foul stench, Astarion peeked into the final chamber, and finally saw the creature. It had to have been twice his height at least, even on all fours, with the body of a bear and long wicked sharp claws. Its head was an owl though, with piercing yellow eyes, its shoulders covered in brown and white feathers, with two enormous wings that enabled it to fly.
Now though, one of the wings lay at a strange angle, obviously broken. The body was covered in bloody wounds, some weapons still embedded in its flesh. And the eyes were glassy, staring into nothingness. Clearly, it was dead, the blood curdled within its veins, the flesh already starting to rot.
It didn't take much to figure out what had happened - there had to be more than twenty dead goblins scattered around the cave. Some had been crushed under its weight, others torn apart by its beak and claws.
“No wonder Minthara had such a reduced force,” Wyll said, nudging a nearby goblin corpse with his foot. “Two dozen dead here, probably more injured left at camp. She took the gobbos she could to the Grove. Must have been desperate.”
“Thankfully Astarion saved the day,” Gale chimed in cheerfully. “If there had been many more the Tieflings might not have been able to turn the tide at the gate.”
Astarion tried not to puff up too much at the reminder he was basically the sole reason the grove was still standing.
“Burying it isn't really an option,” Tav said morosely, which was at least a relief - even if they had shovels, which he had to constantly remind them that they didn't, making a pit big enough would surely take days.
“Perhaps we should all take a moment of silence,” Gale suggested, placing his hands behind his back and lowering his head. “A little quiet reflection on what its death meant for the people of this region, and the loss of such a magnificent creature.”
Astarion and Shadowheart both sighed their annoyance, giving each other narrow eyed glances as the others bowed their heads, Tav whispering a quiet prayer to Silvanus. But arguing would be pointless, he knew that, and probably just make everyone else annoyed, so he simply waited, gazing around the cave.
Whether it usually smelled of anything except death and rot, he wasn't sure. But at present, that was all he could smell. Wyll gave a little cough and the sound echoed loudly around the cave, making Astarion feel slightly off balance. The walls were such thick stone, he couldn't even hear the river rushing by outside the cave, just the slow trickle of the stream inside it. Prior to the goblin attack, it may have even been quite a peaceful little den.
As he thought about it, something glimmered in the dimness, catching his eye. A shortsword, lying half hidden in a large circular pile of sticks and rags. The edges were raised, like a bowl, but he could lie down in the middle and not touch the sides, such was the size of it. Evidently, it was a nest for the Owlbear to sleep in.
Sticks and rags he thought, with a growing uneasiness - and humanoid skeletons. Not long dead either - the flesh had simply been stripped from the bodies, the larger bones snapped open for the marrow, the smaller ones evidently gnawed until they were discarded, at least based on the indents.
Strangely, the marks seemed to come from a creature much smaller than the Owlbear - that, or it was just a delicate eater, he rationalized.
“The nest,” Tav said, the moment of prayer clearly over as she skirted around the giant corpse to pick up the sword, examining it. “What do you think, Wyll?”
“Common enough,” he advised, pointing to it. “Chipped too. But worth a few gold though.”
By now they were all crowded around the nest, lifting up the rags and sorting through the sticks to see what else was there. Most of it was junk, and even Tav, a habitual looter, cast her less-than-critical eye over it and shook her head.
“Nobody’s buying any of this,” she said, picking up a broken porcelain plate before putting it to the side. “I think the goblins picked it clean.”
Lae’zel held up a dagger, but even Astarion could tell it was just common, and not in the best condition. Gale though, was holding up a large bundle of furs.
“Look at this,” he said, excitedly. “Some kind of hide armour. Oh look, it's embroidered - ‘Nature is the True State of the World.’ Shall we keep it, see if anyone on the road might like it?”
“You keep it, old man,” Wyll said, grinning. “It’s too big for the rest of us anyway.”
“I rather think I will,” Gale said, holding it up against him with obvious glee. “If nobody objects, naturally.”
The others all made dismissive noises of agreement as Gale rolled the outfit into a bundle and wedged it inside his now bulging bag. Astarion gave him a sideways glance, suspecting Gale was imagining himself dressed up as a fearsome barbarian, rather than a rather squishy wizard in garish purple. It was certainly unfair that Gale just got to take what he wanted, but Astarion decided to simply keep that to himself, at least until it benefited him to make Gale’s greed obvious to everyone.
“We should check the goblins,” Tav was saying to the others. “Wyll, can you see if any of the weapons in the owlbear are worth taking?”
Not wanting to have to search through a pile of dead, rotting goblins, Astarion quickly lifted himself into the nest, casting his eye around for any other valuables. A headless skeleton wearing rusted armour lay on a pile of rags, so he sifted through its pockets, pulling out a few pieces of gold. Shadowheart was watching him though, so he begrudgingly turned and held it out to Tav.
“Few pieces here darling,” he said, hoping he sounded generous as she looked over, giving him a quick grin.
“You keep those,” she said, which made him very pleased. “I’ll take it off your tally.”
The second part was less pleasing to him, but he took the win and tucked them in his pocket, turning back to flip the skeleton and sift through the rags. He’d only lifted one before his fingers felt something hidden inside - something large and hard and round. Hoping it was a chest full of gold, he excitedly plunged both hands into the pile, realizing as he lifted the strange item out that it was a foolish thing to do.
Thankfully, it didn't explode in his face, but he was disappointed once he realized what it was. It was an egg, although by far the biggest he'd ever seen - bigger than his head and surprisingly heavy. He held it to his ear, curious to hear if it had a heartbeat, but the egg was silent.
“An egg,” Lae’zel confirmed from behind him. “Curious.”
“You could make everyone here an omelet with an egg that big,” Wyll remarked.
“I don't think I'd feel comfortable eating an Owlbear egg,” Gale said as Astarion turned around, still holding the egg and wondering if he could be bothered insisting it should be his.
“You ate eggs at the grove this morning,” Shadowheart pointed out in obvious exasperation.
“Chicken eggs,” Gale corrected. “Hardly the same thing.”
Astarion tuned out their squabble as Tav pulled herself up into the nest to examine the egg, running her fingers along the outside before pressing her own ear to it, clearly attempting to listen for a heartbeat too.
“I think it's dead,” she said after a minute, obviously disappointed. “Poor baby.”
“Might be for the best, darling,” Astarion replied, hating the sad look in her eyes - she really was far too sensitive. “With its mother dead, it didn't stand a chance out here anyway.”
“Nature can be cruel,” she said simply, stroking her fingers along the top of the egg.
“Shall we keep it?” he asked, wondering what a dead Owlbear egg might be worth, but she wrinkled her nose. “Sell it?”
“Doubt it's worth much,” she mused, clearly thinking about it. “Or if it is, it'll be rotten before we find anyone who's interested. Maybe just leave it?”
Astarion nodded, and almost tossed the egg haphazardly to the side before realizing that would likely upset Tav, and instead gently placed it back on the rags.
“This looks interesting,” Wyll called out, holding something aloft as he hurried back over. “Part of a spear.”
“Why do we care about part of a spear?” Astarion asked in exasperation.
In reply, Wyll gave him a cheeky wink and waved the top half of a snapped spear towards his face. To Astarion's disgust, a gawking yellow eye was pierced on the broken spear head. He quickly sidestepped behind Tav as Wyll teasingly chased him with it, making what he probably thought was a scary noise.
“Don't touch me,” Astarion muttered, trying not to let the awful looking thing get anywhere near him.
“It's a delicious snack for you,” Wyll laughed, as Tav put up her hand to lower the spear tip away from Astarion's face.
“Why do I feel like you've got younger siblings you tormented,” she scolded softly. “Leave Astarion alone now Wyll, you know how much he hates gore.”
“Ironically,” Shadowheat muttered, clearly listening in.
“No siblings,” Wyll replied, leaning the spear against the nest. “Lots of cousins though. My fathers the youngest of four boys. One way to make sure you grow up with thick skin, that's for sure.”
“Four boys?” Tav repeated in surprise. “I bet your grandparents had their hands full.”
“Well my grandsire was a blacksmith,” Wyll explained. “And my father is… is a lifelong member of a Flaming Fist.”
For some reason, Astarion got the distinct impression that had not been what Wyll was about to say. The Fist served as the city guard in Baldur's Gate, its members recruited from the people of the Lower and Outer City. A good living, if you didn't have any better prospects, although the allure of being able to boss people around meant it often attracted less than savoury characters.
“Is he -” Tav started, but Wyll suddenly stepped backwards, a strange look on his face.
“But I won't bore you with all that,” he said hurriedly. “Lets search this cave and press on, if we expect to make it to Waukeen’s Rest by tomorrow.”
Tav nodded as Wyll made his way over to Shadowheart, who was examining a bent looking crossbow. Astarion watched them both closely, hoping they didn't decide it would be funny to shoot a bolt near him to gauge his reaction time.
“He's hiding something,” he said darkly, earning a worried look from Tav.
“Wyll’s a good person,” she said immediately. “I shouldn't have pried about his family.”
Astarion raised his eyebrow and glanced towards the eye-tipped spear to make his point.
“He was only teasing,” she said, placing her hand on his arm reassuringly. “You know how immature firya men can be. He didn't mean it.”
Astarion grumbled a little to show his displeasure at her lack of support, glancing again towards Wyll, feeling an unusual wave of suspicion and resentment towards the young warlock. Usually he didn't mind Wyll, and rather enjoyed listening to his stories, but evidently he had a bit of a cruel sense of humour.
“Should we search over there?” Tav said, obviously just trying to distract him, stepping across to the far side of the nest. “Look, there's some old clothes here, maybe there's something you'd like.”
Astarion's head whipped around to stare at her in horror, aghast at the idea he'd willingly wear anything found in Owlbear’s nest, half of which stunk like the beast had pissed on it to mark its territory. Tav was smiling though, her eyes scrunched up at the look on his face, and he realized she was teasing too.
Strangely, he didn't feel the same anger as he did towards Wyll. He wasn't exactly amused by her little joke, but he could at least see the funny side. Then again, Tav was sleeping with him, and letting him feed from her, while Wyll wasn't. That was probably a factor.
“Wait until we find a trader, darling,” he replied, trying to keep his voice light. “It'll be nothing but dyed velvet and sequined ruffles from here until Baldur's Gate.”
“Sounds awful,” Tav replied cheekily, tucking her thumbs under the shoulders of her ugly jerkin and lifting it away from her body. “I can loan you this instead if you'd like. It's probably the height of fashion, right?”
“I’ll pass, darling,” he said, biting his tongue before he could launch into a critique she might take too personally.
“If we can find a cobbler,” Tav continued, squatting down to touch her feet. “I'll get him to make you some new shoes to match mine.”
Astarion felt his lip curl as he looked at her boots. They were a dull grey-brown, in bad need of polishing, with dented buckles that were probably made from tin, and a strange swirling pattern painted on the toes. Frankly, they were awful.
“No to the boots?” she said, as if she was surprised. “Well do you need to borrow my-”
“Every item of clothing you’re wearing,” he cut in, keeping his voice low so nobody else would hear. “Is getting torn off that succulent body of yours the moment the sun sets.”
She stopped short, still crouched on the ground, clearly surprised at how quickly her playful teasing had been flipped into a dark promise. Pretending to be looking at something in the nest, he crouched down beside her, relishing in the catch of her breath and the little shiver of anticipation as he flicked the edge of her shirt.
“This horrible thing,” he said scoldingly. “Is far too big for you. It's a man's shirt darling, I wont tolerate this firya inspired fashion statement you're making.”
Not taking his eyes off hers, he laid one finger on her knee, running it along a messily stitched tear on her breeches.
“And these,” he purred, noticing as he did so that she was holding her breath. “They're nice and tight, I like that. But they're old, and stained. We're going to get rid of them later aren't we?”
Now Tav breathed, a shuddering inhale as she licked her lips, and he had to force himself not to grasp the back of her head and pull her in to be tasted, witnesses be damned.
“Aren’t we?” he repeated in a growl, making her nod her head frantically.
Another evening's pleasure secured, he thought to himself in satisfied delight, letting his eyes roam to her shoulder, where the hint of her breastband was showing through the collar of her shirt.
“And those plain things you wear underneath,” he said conversationally. “Don't you have anything nicer you want to show off?”
Tav shook her head slowly, her heart pounding and her cheeks flushing, almost anxious at what she thought he might do about her ordinary linen underclothes.
“That's a pity,” he said casually. “Next town we reach, we'll do something about that. Agreed?”
Another nod, and he almost laughed at her shy silence, the longing clear in her eyes and the rising scent of sweet desire coming from her skin and between her legs. Quickly he stood, brushing himself down casually, even reaching his hand down to pull her politely to her feet.
“Because you're a good little she-elf, aren't you?” he remarked. “Never leave the house without your breastband and clean small-clothes, do you?”
“I …” Tav started, and he really did have to bite his cheek to keep his expression stern.
“Not tonight,” he whispered darkly. “Tonight I don't want to see your underclothes at all. Do you understand?”
The nod was slow, her eyes wide, and he couldn't resist pushing his luck.
“And this,” he said, pursing his lips to blow a lock of her golden hair off her face. “I want it tied up. Not like this though, something different. Something special. Are we agreed, darling?”
“Agreed,” she whispered, her wide brown eyes fixed on his own red.
“Good,” he crooned. “Very good. Go search over there now darling.”
Tav blinked at the sudden change in tone, before her head whipped around to check nobody was paying attention - not that he'd done anything obvious, it had just looked like they were talking - then she stepped away, obediently following his orders to search the other side of the nest. It hadn’t even occurred to her to make demands of her own, which now he thought about it was probably for the best. After so long a slave, his willingness to take orders, even playful ones in the bedroom, was nonexistent.
So Astarion watched her go, filled with a fiendish sense of delight and relief. Tav had been hard to lure into bed, that was for sure. But now she was there, it seemed she was more than willing to continue their romps. Not that he had any idea what he planned to do to her tonight, or to have her do to him, but he had a few hours of walking to figure it out.
He was nothing if not imaginative, after all.
“That's pretty much all of it Tav,” Gale said suddenly, leaning on the edge of the nest, giving her rear an admiring glance that made Astarion want to rip his beard off. “Shall we head out?”
“Just finishing up,” Tav said cheerfully, examining an empty inkpot, as if she wasn't currently melting into her smallclothes with the knowledge of what the night had in store for her. “Anything good?”
“Nothing of interest to report, sarth,” Lae’zel chimed in.
“Goblins don't carry many valuables,” Wyll called from across the room where he was standing with Shadowheart.
Tav said something in return, but Astarion wasn't listening. His neck began to prickle, his perception warning him something was wrong, and he felt his eyes drag, almost without him doing it, towards the curved tunnel that hid the entrance to the cave.
The voices of the others weren’t loud, but they were still echoing off the walls, preventing him from hearing anything beyond the cavern. The stench of death made sure no smells from outside drifted into the tunnel. But he knew, with a predator's intuition, even before he heard the flapping of enormous wings, that something was coming.
“Darling,” he said sharply. “Darling, hide, now.”
“What?” Tav asked in confusion, barely having time to glance at him before the ground shuddered, and something very large landed outside.
He didn't even bother to explain, he just wrenched her arm and shoved her down into the nest, her head below the raised lip.
“Hide,” he hissed at the others, ducking down beside Tav and grabbing a large stained blanket that stank of piss to cover them.
Much to his annoyance, Lae’zel slipped under as well, squeezing up against Tav, while Gale crushed his way in next to Astarion. The combination of piss covered blanket, goblin scented air, and Gale's normal bilious odour right near his sensitive nose made Astarion uncharacteristically gag and retch for a moment before he recovered himself, sticking his head outside the cover for what passed for fresh air in this cavern. Meanwhile, Shadowheart and Wyll ducked behind a large rock, pressing against each other to both fit into the small space, both clutching their weapons.
“What is it?” Tav breathed, pulling her bow off her back and fitting an arrow to it. “Goblins?”
“Too big to be a goblin,” Astarion hissed, his eyes fixed towards the curve in the passage that hid the entrance.
“An ogre?” Gale suggested, holding his staff tightly with white knuckles, likely thinking of the ogres at the temple.
The floor shook again as whatever the thing was started to make its way inside the cave, the smell of fresh blood suddenly wafting through the stink.
“Too big,” Astarion said again, hunkering down further and putting his hand on Tav's head to push her down before she did something stupid like jump out to save everyone.
“You don't think,” Gale gasped, his eyes wide. “Astarion, it couldn't be…”
The small amount of light that came shining down the passage was blocked as the unseen invader began to enter the cavern, and everything went dark. Trying to stay hidden under the blanket, only his eyes peeking out, the lip of the nest blocking his view, Astarion dared to sit up a little higher, trying to make sense of what he was seeing through his darkvision.
It looked like a deer, almost leaping in mid air for some reason, its head lolling down and its limbs dangling loosely. Chunks were torn out of it and the deer was dripping blood, clearly dead. Somewhere above its body, within the shadows, glowed two large yellow orbs.
Eyes, Astarion realized in horror, as the full shape of the being became clear. The deer wasn't jumping, it was being carried in the mouth of something strong and black and very very large.
The deer suddenly plunged to the ground, falling from a distance of at least three times Astarion's height, landing with a splat that caused blood to splash out and one of its legs to snap. Tav recoiled next to him, and he realized she had sat up further to look as well.
Nobody dared to move, or make a sound, as the giant creature shuffled further into the cave, shoving the deer forward towards the dead Owlbear on the ground, making pleased sounding chirps that quickly turned into a low whistle.
Astarion could see the shape of it now the light was shining behind it, and realized what it was. He realized it, but he was frozen in place, his mind refusing to fully comprehend just how much shit they were in.
“Two,” Gale choked, even though Astarion silently willed him to shut up and not draw its attention. “There are two Owlbears.”