5. The Wood of Sharp Teeth

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"Wait, what did you pay the wizard?"

"Um, gold? What else would he have wanted? I guess he also asked me to send him written updates every few months, but that's it."

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"You said Viconia 'did a number' on your head. What did you mean by that?"

Aldous smiles at the touch of Stella's hand, but his expression grows upset when she brings up Viconia. "She cast some charm spells on me, made me trust her like a friend, so I'd cooperate better. Be a willing captive. My memory's a bit fuzzy starting from the night she took me until she dumped me into Tazok's hands."

He shivers. "Being forced to like and trust someone... It's not a good feeling."

(Arcana: It's difficult to say for sure without actually seeing the creature, but Stella might suspect it's a mind flayer or slaad tadpole. Neither would be good news. But given that Aldous hasn't really had any negative symptoms, it's possible the tadpole is atypical of its kind.)

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"Um, gold? What else would he have wanted? I guess he also asked me to send him written updates every few months, but that's it."

"Ah, so you're a test subject..." she says, nodding. "Did the wizard say what it is exactly? It seems like some kind of mind flayer or slaad tadpole...Caliope—the feathered eladrin girl who was with us in Nashkel—she told me a bit about her parents' dealings with mind flayers...and Mama and Papa fought slaadi while travelling Yggdrasil's branches. Both sound like horrible things...If it's growing in power, well...I wonder if it could escape someday and propagate..." She shakes her head. "At any rate, I'm glad you're well for now."

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"She cast some charm spells on me, made me trust her like a friend, so I'd cooperate better. Be a willing captive. My memory's a bit fuzzy starting from the night she took me until she dumped me into Tazok's hands...Being forced to like and trust someone... It's not a good feeling."

Concern grows on Stella's face as he speaks. What secrets about his family might she have coerced from him? "Is there anything you know that could be dangerous for her to know? Like for your family, for instance. If so, you may want to warn your father soon, you know?"

She grimaces. "Either way, that sounds terrible. Being betrayed by your most trusted bodyguard, then having your will warped like that...that must have been simply awful." She sniffs then chuckles and grins. "From the looks on Ajantis and his men, though, well done driving your captors half-mad."

"That makes sense."

Aiwë weighs their options. "Going back to him seems like poor strategy. If you can read him like a book, then I'm willing to bet he can do the same. As for sneaking into the Gate—can he scry? Does he have people who can? He'll be looking for his captives. And for staying with us..." She shifts again, fixing him with a sharp brown-eyed stare. It is filled with pain.

"My uncle died in that attack as we fled from Candlekeep." She crosses her arms, her fingers tapping on her muscular biceps. Thrum. Thrum. "I risked the party's lives to double back for him in the morning. I chased wolves from his corpse and then carried him all the way to the Friendly Arm Inn as Gruumsh's mark stared over my shoulder out of his face. Dieter died too. You can still see it in his eyes, the way he counts all of our steps." Thrum. Thrum.

As she stares with agonized eyes she imagines the rhythm driving, driving, into his head. She listens to it, through it, past it, into his thoughts.

Aiwë casts Detect Thoughts. Right now she's just looking surface level, to see what reaction the things she said might bring to help judge what kind of person he is.

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"Did the wizard say what it is exactly?"

"No," Aldous answers, "he didn't say. When I asked, he just stared at me for a moment and then wrote something down in his book." He chuckles nervously. "You don't think I'm going to turn into a one-legged mind flayer, do you...?"

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"Is there anything you know that could be dangerous for her to know? Like for your family, for instance. If so, you may want to warn your father soon, you know?"

"I... don't think so. I mean, I suppose she could have learned about our house finances? I'm not sure what she'd do with that information though, and it's all registered with the banking guilds anyway."

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"From the looks on Ajantis and his men, though, well done driving your captors half-mad."

That comment draws a grin. "Well you know, I do have a way with words."

Aldous passes a hand over his stump and the hole closes, hiding the tadpole within. "If it doesn't disgust you, maybe you can help me learn more about it?" He cups a hand by his mouth and stage-whispers. "That means I'd have to stay with you, and we'd need to have lots of engaging chats together..."

Koveras seems unsure how to respond to Aiwe's pained retelling of that awful time. His spine straightens, his shoulders roll backward, and he stares straight over her head. It's that same militaristic posture he adopted so often back in Candlekeep. Emotionally aloof. Unflappable. Strictly business.

Aiwe's subtle magic... fails. The spell is cast, and Aiwe can direct as she wills, but when it comes to Koveras the magic just... slides off of him. It's like trying to grasp a wet bar of soap - with one finger. The more she tries, the harder it gets, and she feels a pain building behind her eyes. It reminds her of something Bentley Mirrorshade said when they saw him last...

Bentley comes back to himself with a start, one hand going to his forehead as if in pain. He waves away any help. "Someone's just put a clever little countercharm on young Aldous. Bah! I should have been ready for such a trick." He absently picks at a few splinters from the wood of the cane before handing it back. "Further scrying will be impossible, I'm afraid. I wish I could have discovered more."

It seems that whatever magic hid Aldous from divination spells is also in place on Koveras.

Still staring above Aiwe's head, the half-orc speaks softly. "I'm sorry for what happened to your uncle. And to Dieter. I'm sorry I didn't discover Rieltar's plans sooner. That I didn't stand up to him sooner." He takes a deep breath. "I am to blame for your pain. But I did not orchestrate it."

His jaw tightens, and his breaths come more quickly. "It's not... not the first time he's inflicted such suffering on those around me." He seems to have difficultly swallowing, and his eyes blink rapidly as he struggles to find his words. "He m-murdered my mother. Right in front of me. He held the garrote around her neck... held her face pressed up next to mine... as he took her from me. 'You did this,' he said. 'You. Did. This.'"

Koveras finally looks down to meet Aiwe's eyes, and she sees an anguish there that mirrors her own. "I will kill him. I'll end his tyranny, his murders, his assassinations. And I'll do it with or without your help."

Aiwë puts her pain away again. Her presence becomes softer, and her face bears neither pain nor anger, only compassion. "I don't blame you. Even if I did, in the Dale we give second chances. But we don't give a third. You've earned your anger and your anguish, but does it rule you? Would you sell us out again for a chance at Rieltar? Would you leave our flank open for a shot at his?" She leans in slightly, making it clear this is what the whole conversation was about.

"Can we trust you?"

Araklusta says:

"You don't think I'm going to turn into a one-legged mind flayer, do you...?"

"If you haven't felt any ill effects so far, I don't think so...And I sure hope not! You look much more handsome without tentacles on your face..." she grins.

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"I... don't think so. I mean, I suppose she could have learned about our house finances? I'm not sure what she'd do with that information though, and it's all registered with the banking guilds anyway."

Stella nods and shrugs. "Hmm. Everything I know about nobles comes from Calliope, and it sounds like there's always secret meetings and deals going on...Her whole family is wild. So that's good."

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"If it doesn't disgust you, maybe you can help me learn more about it?" He cups a hand by his mouth and stage-whispers. "That means I'd have to stay with you, and we'd need to have lots of engaging chats together..."

Stella feigns shock, then raises an eyebrow. "Oh! They have to be engaging chats, hmm? Well, I'm afraid we might be at a loss, then. While being chased by assassins and overthrowing crime lords, I'm merely capable of only gaging ones." She frowns and barks a laugh, breaking her mask of sardonicism. "...Whatever that means! Papa always says nonsensical things like that, but manages to seem so confident, you start to believe you're the crazy one," she says, raising her eyebrows at 'you're' while grinning. "Anyway, if the others agree to bring you along, I'd be happy to do some studies."

Her grin relaxes as she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, thinking, then narrows her eyes. "Actually..." she says, tapping a finger to the corner of her mouth. "Maybe we should show this to Sheemish. His talents stemmed from a condition too, though more a reaction to it, rather than a result. Anyway, maybe he could..." She throws her hands out and draws her lips to a line. "I don't know, build a clockwork leg or something to help you walk normally! I bet he could even build in a door or something for the symbiote to crawl in and out of."

"Anyway, I should get some rest...We've been traveling a lot without much of it since Beregost." she tells him, meeting his eyes. She "I do think the others should know if we're going to be traveling together, though...They don't have to see, but they should at least be aware."

Nostrils flared, Koveras is silent for a long moment as he stares into Aiwë's eyes. She can tell this decision is a struggle for him. Rieltar has tormented this man, but he retains a strong will and a fierce pride. Submission does not come easily for him.

Finally he nods a single time. "It will be... as you say. So long as the group's end goal is to bring down Rieltar Anchev, you can trust that I will play whatever part I must to the best of my ability."

He closes his eyes. "This I swear on my mother's unmarked grave."

Shelur's smile is grim, given the subject matter, but approving.

"The tribe hears your oath." She thumps her chest to seal it. "Such tribe that we are," she adds wryly. "I'm sorry for all you have suffered and lost. We will help you see that justice is done, as Torm wills."

Sound comes from the entrance of the tent and she shifts her weight casually as Stella and Aldous leave it. She smiles at them easily, none of her previous anger showing to mask the seriousness of the conversation. The two seem closer, and Aldous bolder. Aiwë can't help but feel they have no idea what they have signed up for.

"Come on, Blood. Behind every butt kicking is a good night's sleep, and I haven't had one for a couple of days. Looks like Dieter's making dinner. Lunch?"

Dieter takes the cast pot off the heat and settles it in the low burning coals. He had taken a few ration packs and turned a portion of them along with water into a thick stew. Dieter pulls a small bag from one of his deeper more secret clothes pouches. he reaches inside and grabs a pinch of crushed spices to add to the pot (mostly salt and black pepper with some crumbled leaf and root shavings but last of all a tiny bit of hot pepper from the southern region.) he then takes the hard bread from the ration packs and encloses them in a damp cloth before putting them inside a cast pan with a lid. He puts a few hot coals on the lid and underneath, if he timed it right the stew will have incorporated the seasonings and have thickened appropriately at the same time the bread has finished rejuvenating. Reaching into his pack this time Dieter finds another even more secret pouch to pull out another delicacy, salted butter wrapped in waxed paper. He serves the party and gives each of them a small piece of butter for their bread or however they choose to consume it.

While oiling her bowstring and chatting with Aldous about spellcasting mishaps, Stella stops and smells the scent of the stew and bread and Dieter makes the finishing touches and brings them out to serve. She inhales deeply and sighs. Stars above, that smelled exceptional.

When camping on the road, Stella was often the one cooking, on account of her training by the other Kuldaharan women. Her mother Halla was decent, though seemed to prefer food far rawer than Stella thought was safe for humanoid consumption. Despite traveling with Ug the Goliath and his legendary meals, Zenithral's cooking sometimes outright threatened to break open the seal to the Abyss. It was safer to eat it raw in his case.

It might just be the exhaustion, Stella thought to herself, but if that stew and bread tasted as good as it smelled, she might have to admit defeat.

She dips the bread in the stew, takes a bite, then quickly takes a few spoonfulls, eyes twinkling to yellow. "Mmmm!" She turns to Dieter, leaning forward with a bright smile. "Dieter! 'Tis marvelous! What did you put in here? We may need to have you cook more often," she grins, then savors a few more spoonfulls.

"Aldous, you must try this! I will bet even your...er, stomach would enjoy it."

"Well it’s what we’ve already been eating just with some added attention and given a different texture" Dieter says shrugging. "When given the time it’s pretty simple to change things up although I will admit something about this meal is abnormal, maybe the water here is of higher quality"

Stella raises an eyebrow, and smiles, but says nothing more, continuing to enjoy the meal. He definitely added more than just 'attention' and mineral spring water...Peppercorn, perhaps? Though he did have a point about water quality affecting a stew...

Ida quietly makes camp within the perimeter the fists and Dieter had made. erecting a small shelter and placing her bedroll within it, Ida carefully goes through her reagents and looks over her equipment. Not noticing any significant damage and updating her supplies list she heads out to the smell of something amazing. It seemed that the party had finished interrogating the former captives and had sat down to eat. Ida joins them and takes a portion. Warmth fills her belly and soul as the delicious food enters her body "Dieter you certainly didn’t learn to cook from Tulfgyr" a small wry smile gracing her lips.

"You’re right! I learned how to cook…well I learned exactly what I just did from an old mentor in my home town militia. We would do these weekend encampments in the woods near the beginning but soon that wasn’t safe so we would just do them in a farmers field. He taught me how to set a camp properly and to mix around a ration pack like I just did. But don’t ask me to cook anything else I wouldn’t really know where to begin and would probably burn it at best" Dieter says between bites.

"Wow, Diets!" Aiwë gushes appropriately. She quickly inhales her own portion while he serves the others.

"It helps how tired we are," she says cheerfully around some bread. She swallows then continues as she pulls her hand pan from her bag. "Every Cagebreaker enjoys hot game blood, but nothing," she smacks the hand pan in her lap for emphasis, "nothing tastes better than the blood straight from an elk's neck after you've been endurance hunting for three days. Mm!!" She sighs wistfully.

"This was a close second though. Actually—you know who else is a great field cook? Stella's mom. She just knows how meat should be prepared."

As the party, Aldous, Koveras, and Fist soldiers included, dig into their meals, Aiwë quiets. Her cheerful energy fades to serene sophistication, and then she begins to play.

It is a slow, soothing song, like the drip of snow melt in spring or the bubbling of a brook. The clear, resonating notes of the hand pan are broken occasionally by bird song that is not actually there.

Though still looking forward to a long night in a bed, between the food and the ambience the group finds themselves well rested for the trek back to the Friendly Arm Inn.

Song of Rest! If you regain hit points at the end of the short rest by spending one or more Hit Dice, you regain an extra 1d6 hit points.

Dieter doesn’t know what an Elk is but if Aiwë had to hunt it for three days it must have been formidable. "Wow" Dieter says quietly. Aiwë’s music is quite calming, Dieter can only remember one other time in recent memory that he has been this at peace. Lost for a few moments staring into space Dieter snaps back to the present realizing he is wanting for air. Dieter begins manually breathing, his least favourite side effect of his "condition" but it would soon pass as it always had.

Aldous digs in. "Dieter! This is..." He shoves another spoonful into his mouth. "This is just what I needed. And what my, erm, passenger wanted, too!" By this point, Aldous has followed Stella's advice and informed the party about his tadpole. He's still not used to discussing it openly though.

Koveras, whose mood has seemed sour since his conversation with Aiwe, in spite of being accepted to the group, seems to cheer up as the delicious food warms his belly.
He raises an eyebrow. "You really just eat... drink... the blood of wild animals? I admit, I've never been on such a hunt."

The Flaming Fist soldiers similarly share their appreciation for the meal. "Sir Dieter, this beats anything at the Inn. Half the time Bentley just conjures the food from thin air, and while there's something to be said for the speed, the taste just can't beat a meal prepared like this."