Rusty Resolve

The murmurs of the Grove still hung in the air, but Zevlor’s expectant stare cut sharper than any whisper. All around us the tieflings waited, faces tight with fear and confusion, children clinging to their parents, horns twitching nervously. Some shouted to head for the Baldur's Gate immediately, others that the Grove was safe for the moment. A few argued to stay just one more night, long enough to rest, before fleeing.

I lifted my voice above it. “You shouldn’t take to the road. Not now. There’s a goblin army heading this way, they’ll be here in two days’ time.”

They all went silent, eyes wide, tails lashed nervously. For a moment, even the children stopped crying.

Then a young tiefling, clearly a spellcaster of sorts from his intricate robe, stepped forward "Then we must leave,” he insisted. “If we go now, perhaps we can outpace them.”

I shook my head. “Out there, you’d be hunted down and slaughtered. Here, at least, you have a chance to fight back.”

The crowd fell into uneasy silence. Few of them had ever lifted a blade. Even fewer was carrying one. Hope was slim.

“I won’t lie to you,” I continued. “Most of you aren’t soldiers. But here you have walls, druids, and most importantly, us. My companions and I will stand with you. And…” I let the thought hang, hinting at more. “We have certain reinforcements on the way.”

The voices steadied, fear twisting into fragile attention.

Zevlor took a step forward, his hand tightening on the hilt of his greatsword. His voice boomed with conviction, a paladin’s fire radiating from every word. “Listen well! These folk saved us twice already. If they say we stand, then we stand. We cannot outrun ****—but we can meet it head-on, and by that, live!” His words rolled over the tieflings, rallying their spirits and steadying their nerves.

“But what will we fight with?” someone cried.

A voice called from the crowd. “With these.” Dammon stepped forward, dragging a battered cart behind him. It was piled high with rusted blades, dented shields, and half-cracked spears. I recognized them instantly—the spoils we’d sold to him from Withers’ crypt. He gave a grim smile. “These blades will do me no good if I’m dead—use them. Let them find purpose in battle and not rust in my cart.”

Hope flickered. Dammon began handing out weapons, and suddenly farmers clutched swords, workers hefted shields, and elders tested the weight of old spears. Crude, battered, but weapons all the same. Some tieflings moved to the edge of the caves, drilling awkwardly under Zevlor barking instructions. Those with magical talent gathered around the young wizard to practice their cantrips.

The children lingered at the edges, eyes bright. Arabella was among them. She stared at me with wide-eyed awe. “You saved us,” she said softly. “and you saved me. Again. Y-you really are heroes.”

I shook my head, a wry smile tugging at my lips. “I wouldn’t go so far as to call us heroes..”

Shadowheart gave a low chuckle, folding her arms. “Heroes don’t last long in this world.”

Lae’zel bared her teeth in a sharp grin. “We fight to survive.”

Karlach’s laugh came rougher this time, her tail twitching like a whip. “Being good all the time sounds boring as hell.”

[Karlach: Corruption +1]

I crouched slightly, meeting Arabella’s eyes. “I remember your promise. Fast hands, right? You and the others will be our secret weapon. Stay hidden. If any goblins slip through, plaster them with rocks. Understand?”

Her grin spread into something wolfish. “We already practice. On the ox.”

I blinked. “The ox?”

She nodded. “The weird one. It doesn’t flinch, just stares at us with it's cold creepy eyes. We throw rocks at it for fun.”

A shiver crept down my spine, but I **** a nod. “Then your aim’s sharp enough. One more thing. Help us place the barrels. Firewine outside the gate. Smokepowder where it’ll hurt most. Can you manage that?”

Her smile widened impossibly more. “We can do that!”

With that, the tieflings split into groups: most armed with rusted weapons, a handful gathering around the wizard to practice their spells, and the children—now armed with explosives—ready in the shadows with stones and schemes. It wasn’t an army, but it was something.

Shadowheart smirked at the sight. “Fear and desperation. The finest motivation.”

Lae’zel nodded curtly. “Even blunt steel can kill.”

Karlach thumped me on the back with a grin. “Look at you, commander. Turning stragglers into soldiers.”

I exhaled slowly, watching the tieflings stumble through their drills. Hope was taking root. And with this, the Grove had another line of defense.