No Deals

The path that led away from camp still bore traces of last night’s indulgence—crushed flowers, half-empty mugs, the occasional piece of clothing that had somehow migrated far from its original owner. The morning air hummed lightly, as though the very Grove had been satisfied by the celebration. Karlach walked with an energetic sway, Kagha more carefully as her hangover flickered behind her eyes, Lae’zel maintained her rigid soldier’s pace, and Shadowheart’s steps carried the hint of a limp as she shot sultry glances my way every now and then.

We followed the winding route toward the stone circle, letting the morning settle over us. As we drew closer, faint sounds drifted through the trees—soft drumbeats, lilting music, breathy laughter. Then unmistakably, the rhythmic pulse of pleasure.

Karlach perked up. “Is that… singing? Or moaning?”

“Both,” I said.

Lae’zel sighed sharply. “Openly mating in the light of day? Undisciplined.”

Kagha gave a dreamy little hum. “Nature is not disciplined. It simply is. This is… fitting.”

Lae’zel dramatically rolled her eyes.

We stepped past the final wall of foliage. The stone circle—once solemn, once holy—had transformed into a living tapestry of revelry.

Moss had been arranged in wide cushions like natural lounges. Flower garlands hung between pillars, swaying gently. The idol at the center glowed with warm violet light, its once‑stoic features softened by flickering shadows that made it almost seem alive. Seductive even.

Druids and tieflings mingled without inhibition. Some danced in slow spirals, wine cups in hand. Others reclined on moss beds in entangled pairs or groups, their bodies moving in rythm as they lazily fucked without a care in the world. A few played on simple strings or small drums, creating a low, intoxicating melody. There was laughter, joy, shared whispers—the atmosphere was warm, communal, indulgent.

The wild party of last night had mellowed into a sexy symposion.

Then a cheer erupted as the crowd noticed us.

“The Liberator!”

“The Unifier has returned!”

Hands lifted, some in greeting, some in praise. A few bowed; others simply smiled with open affection.

Karlach nudged me with her elbow. “Guess you’ve got fans now, soldier.”

Kagha, however, brightened with genuine delight. “More have joined,” she whispered reverently. “More souls turned toward our purpose.”

One young druid approached us—the same one who had blasted eldritch energy wildly to the heavens yesterday .

“You have returned,” he said warmly. “Our revel does not end; it evolves. Many tieflings who celebrated last night have joined in our worship of freedom and pleasure.”

Karlach snickered. “Good for them!”

The druid nodded, then added with mild regret, “A few wanted no part in it. They have begun packing their things, planning to travel toward Baldur’s Gate.”

I nodded. “Sucks to be them.”

“Indeed.” His expression shifted. “You asked yesterday about the druids who locked themselves in the Sanctum?”

“Yes. Where are they?”

He winced slightly. “When we returned from battle, the door was open. But no one answered when we called. And the smell was… unbearable. We have not entered since. We have been too busy with worship.”

I dragged a hand down my face. “Oh boy. That’s… already bad.”

Karlach frowned. “You think Ethel did something?”

“I think Ethel is always doing something,” I said. “But she knows better than to start trouble right this minute.”

“Does she?” Shadowheart asked.

I sighed. “Let’s find out.”

Before we left, I scanned the circle. “By the way, what did you do with the Drow?”

The young druid pointed to a shaded corner of the stones.

Minthara was bound and gagged, like we left her. Teela lay draped over her abdomen in a vigilant guarding posture.

Her eyes burned with fury when they met mine—endless hatred, vengeance, and calculation all entangled.

“You know what,” I said quietly, “Actually I’d rather see Ethel first.”

Karlach and Shadowheart nodded in unison “Agreed,”

Kagha gave a small smile, “Teela will keep her company until then,”

Lae’zel scoffed. “Do not fear the drow. If she lifts a finger against you, I will remove it.”

“We need all her fingers, Lae’zel.” I answered.

“Oh.” She paused. “Understood. Her toes, then.”

Karlach wheezed with laughter. I sighed and waved them forward.

The Sanctum door groaned faintly as we entered.

And the smell hit us immediately.

Stale rot. Acrid decay. Something fungal, something chemical, something utterly unnatural.

Karlach gagged. “Hells—what died in here?”

I coughed. “Hopefully nothing.”

Shadowheart, however, froze in place. Her face impossibly paled even more, eyes watering.

“Oh absolutely not,” she said, already stepping backward. “No. No. No.”

Lae’zel blinked. “Cowardice?”

“Never!” Shadowheart snapped. “I am just going to retrieve Dammon. Immediately.”

“You’re fleeing now?” I asked.

“I am volunteering,” she corrected. “Do not follow me. Do not stop me.”

She practically teleported out of the Sanctum, gagging into her sleeve as she fled up the stairs.

Karlach wiped tears from her eyes—from laughing too hard. “Oh gods… poor princess.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Let’s just move.”

We proceeded through the central chamber. Braziers were unlit. Ashes littered the floor. No bodies—but no signs of life either.

“Hag” I called.

Silence.

We checked the side rooms: one library, dusty and undisturbed; one healing chamber, shelves still full of herbs but clearly abandoned.

Nothing.

“Downstairs,” I said finally. “She’ll be at the grotto.”

Kagha led the way down into the twisting corridor deep beneath the idol.

Violet and green light washed over us as we entered. The grotto—once sacred ground—was now a place utterly transformed. Magic throbbed in the air like a heartbeat. Where we had buried the seed of blasphemy a plant had grown into a massive blossom, crimson and pink petals slowly curling open with an almost sensual motion.

And Ethel stood before it.

She remained in full hag form, limbs long and twisted, hair like luminescent moss, eyes sharp enough to cut through flesh. Around her stood a dozen druids—the ones who had sealed themselves inside. They wore grotesque wooden masks, carved into exaggerated expressions of bliss.

Ethel greeted us with saccharine sweetness.

“Well, well,” she cooed, “if it isn’t my favorite little worm, coming to gloat after such a long and exhausting night. Tell me, petal—what sort of wicked deal are you proposing?”

Her tone dripped with venom and molasses. She did little to hide her irritation and bruised pride.

“No deals,” I said. “Not this time. You’re going to stay—of your own volition.”

Ethel barked a laugh sharp enough to cut stone. “Stay? Here? After the humiliation you so graciously inflicted upon me? Oh, petal, you must think I’ve gone soft in the head.”

“I think,” I replied evenly, “that you’re practical. And this will benefit you.”

Her eyes lit up ever so slightly. “Benefit me?” she echoed with mockery. “Do tell… I do so adore a good laugh before breakfast,”

“You stay,” I repeated. “As a resident, not a prisoner. You can carry out your hagspawn pregnancy here—safe, uninterrupted. All the Sanctum’s scrolls, herbs, and ingredients are yours.” I gestured toward the masked druids behind her. “And you have attendants already.”

Ethel’s lip curled. “These? Oh, please. Hardly worth bragging about.”

Karlach frowned. “What did you do to them?”

Ethel placed a hand to her sunken chest in mock offense. “Me? Nothing serious. They didn’t want to let me inside so I convinced them.”

Karlachs eyes narrowed. “Convinced how?”

Ethel clapped her hands delightedly. “With a poisonous stink cloud, dear. A nasty one. Most of them fled the room gagging and screaming. The fools who raised their little sticks at me—well…” She gestured at the masks. “They get to enjoy Auntie’s newest trinkets.”

I glanced at the extactic grimacing masks. “New designs?”

“Oh yes!” She beamed. “I upgraded. The old ones ran off during our little spat, and I haven’t seen a trace of them since.”

I winced sharply. The strange ox. They hadn’t stood a chance.

Karlach crossed her arms. “Was enslaving them really necessary?”

Ethel gasped melodramatically. “They attacked me, darling! What else was a sweet, old lady supposed to do?” She shot me a wicked grin. “Besides, the masks keep them in eternal bliss—not fear.” She pointed at me accusingly. “Isn’t that your whole theme, you depraved little pervert?”

I shrugged. “Better this than them returning with reinforcements.”

Ethel perked up. “Exactly. Practical boy. See? You and me are not so different after all.”

My chest tightened at that.

She snapped her fingers, and one of the masked druids obediently shuffled forward with a clay bowl filled with what looked like goblin noses.

Ethel plucked one delicately and slurped it like an oyster. “Pregnancy brings the strangest cravings…”

Karlach whispered, horrified, “Gods, that’s foul.”

Ethel wiped her mouth daintily. “Now then, petal—continue.”

I drew a steady breath. “With Kagha stepping away as the head-druid, the Grove needs protection. A hag together with a cult of deranged druids behind her is a solid deterrent.”

Karlach gave me a look of confusion. Lae’zel and Kagha on the other hand just nodded in approval.

Her eyes narrowed. “So what you really want is a groundskeeper. Me, mucking about in your little garden while you all go out to play hero.”

“Yes,” I said without hesitation. “But not a servant. A guardian, and anyone who comes looking for trouble—” I shrugged. “You can do whatever you want with them.”

Karlach shot me a half‑horrified look. Lae’zel remained unfazed—this was normal diplomacy by her standards. Kagha nodded approvingly.

The hag’s grin returned, sly and sharp. “Mmm. Tempting…”

Then her eyes gleamed with mischief. “Say… what about just a few children? One or two? A handful at most—”

Karlach’s engine roared with molten fury, lightening up the grotto.

Ethel lifted her hands in surrender. “Fine! Fine! No children—No fun with you lot.”

“If you need fun,” I said dryly, “join the revel upstairs.”

Ethel snickered. “Oh, they do love their little parties…” She sighed, a long, weary exhale. “And my swamp is empty now anyway. A lady must make do.”

I softened my voice. “This way, we both grow stronger—and the Grove thrives.”

Ethel’s eyes narrowed to wicked slits as she leaned in, her voice dropping into a low, theatrical purr.

“So that’s it, then? Auntie does your little chore—stays put, keep watch, grows herself a darling little hagspawn, and adds any moral busybodies who wander too close to her new gallery?”

She tilted her head, smile razor‑thin. “Or I could simply walk out of here with this inconvenient little tattoo, return to my old business, and leave you to drown in your own consequences.”

“Yes,” I said. “No deals. No grudges. Fresh start.”

Ethel fell silent, considering. The violet and green light caught in her uneven features, revealing something subtle—uncertainty? Weariness? Loneliness?

Then she sighed dramatically. “Remove the mark.”

I lifted my hand and dissolved the magic. The curse unraveled like smoke.

Ethel stared at her unmarked skin, startled.

Then clicked her tongue twice. “Tchsk tchsk… far too trusting, petal. One day, that will get you killed.” Her sneer softened into something nearly fond. “But just this once, I won’t strangle that pretty face of yours.”

She shooed us away. “Go on, then. Auntie needs to air out this sacred stink.”

I turned toward the tunnel—but a whisper brushed my ear, too soft for the others.

“Don’t you fret, petal… Auntie’ll keep good watch over your little plants.”

A shiver ran down my spine—not fear, but an odd, unwelcome comfort of kinship.

Karlach moved beside me. “Soldier… are you sure about this? Leaving the Grove to her?”

“This is the best way to defeat her,” I said. “Not giving her any reason to fight us—but every reason to help.”

Kagha nodded immediately. “Your judgment is sublime.”

Lae’zel approved. “A terrifyingly useful ally.”

Karlach bit her lip. “But won’t she start making her sneaky deals again?”

“She ensnares those who come seeking for something,” I said. “Greed, lust, vanity—those are the hooks. But right now the Grove is drowning in pleasure. They want for nothing.”

Karlach exhaled. “I hope you’re right.”

“Me too,” I murmured.

We ascended toward daylight—leaving the hag and her masked followers behind as the Grove’s future became ever more unclear

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