Chapter Text
There's a forest just beyond the walls of Baldur's Gate. A forest that blossoms and wilts as needed; slipping into the world in one moment and back out of it in the next. To stumble upon it is no act of chance. No one who enters is there without reason. No one who leaves ever returns. All to protect the one who lives within it. Some who've met him say he's a nymph, a creature of the Feywild, who draws innocents in just to hunt them until dawn. Others say there's no such thing, only a strange black cat that wanders from village to village, always returning to the forest once the moon begins to rise. Perhaps both are true; the trees will never tell. Nor the birds. Nor the other fauna and flora that surround their gift.
Halsin was the first to notice. Nature obeys something else entirely here as if it's bound to it by choice. Both untamed and obedient, drawing the group to something within. He has studied this forest for many years, watching and waiting for a chance to enter it himself. The elf figures a couple of druids had started to make a grove of their own here away from the hustle and bustle of the city; the party has yet to find any.
Gale is the next to be curious. He doesn't know nature as well as the large druid, but he knows enough to recognize magic when it’s present. He feels it in the air as he walks and wonders what it could stem from. Something powerful, likely an artifact of some kind. If he’s lucky it might be enough to tame the orb inside of him long enough to find a cure. But then it shifts. The magic is wild and unlike anything he had ever read about. Too aware to not have a wielder but too calm to be fey magic. It twists and turns like it’s alive; like the forest itself is merely a vessel for the magic within it. For once, the wizard is speechless.
Karlach lets out a groan as she almost walks into the thousandth branch that day alone. They’d been camping in the forest for what seemed like months, even though it had only been a few days. It seemed particularly interested in her flames; almost every plant in the forest was drawn to her heat and rarely cared if it burnt upon contact. The barbarian figured the forest must find something familiar in her. So she lets the plants reach out and touch her skin for just a moment. After all, it’s the most she’s had in ten years.
Shadowheart stays quiet, taking in the sights of the trees and flowers around her. She’s never liked forests. Something deep within her mind screams that they shouldn’t be here; it seems like they’re treading over sacred ground. The only words she speaks are quiet prayers to her Lady of Sorrows to calm her nerves. The cleric picks up on something further into the forest… something humanoid. They are not alone here.
It seems the rest of the group picks up on her cautious air as they too turn towards the source of a strong wave of magic. Halsin leads the way, recognizing it as the magic of nature in an instant. The group follows him as they wade through thick ferns and vines before a circle of light breaks through the dark flora. The four stop in their tracks. This is the first sign of life, other than the animals, that they’d seen in days. Shadowheart covers her mouth to stop a gasp from disturbing the creature. Karlach’s eyes widen as she now understands why the forest was so drawn to her. Gale flinches at the surge of magic that hits him like a boulder; it’s almost overwhelming for the wizard and his orb throbs at the source of wild magic before him. Halsin simply stares in wonder and… sympathy.
A tiefling rests in a small clearing of the forest, chest rising and falling peacefully as the sun dances over his skin. He knows it won't hurt him. Nothing from here does. Instead, it wraps around his thin form like a blanket as the sounds of nature engulf the space around him. Birds chirp from high in the trees, foxes laugh as they chase rabbits away from the berries, and a gentle breeze whistles like a kettle through the leaves; this place loves him and he loves it in return. The tiefling stays curled in a ball for a moment longer before feeling the ferns dance along his skin. He lets out a soft giggle, stretching his limbs against the soft grass and cool soil he treasured. The druid doesn't speak. He doesn't protest against his forest with a groan or a hiss as it urges him awake. He simply wakes and keeps his eyes closed until he urges himself to stand. Even after a decade of living here, the sun is still a new feeling on his skin. A ball of light that once scorched his eyes for the entertainment of others now comforting him as he wades and skips through the fauna with ease. The forest follows. Flowers bloom as he walks past and insects swarm to their subtle scents. Ivy vines hang daintily over branches of the trees he's scaled thousands of times. The deer run with him like they are the same, both wild and untamed. Here, in this forest, the druid is free.
That is, until, he senses a group passing through his forest. He goes silent almost instantly. He knows these people. They've been hunting him for days. He knows they've come to reclaim him, to take him back to the cage he ran from. And so he runs again once one of their heads pokes into the clearing. A much taller elf, a druid like himself, tries to track him down and fails. These grounds know better than to give him away as he climbs into a tree with grace, the branches arching down to cover his form in a protective embrace. The druid waits. And waits. And… waits. Nothing. The sounds of his forest are calm, and so is he. He thinks the people traveling through the trees must have stopped looking for him and he slowly makes his way down the tree and back onto the plush grass.
Or at least he tries to, until he sees the group staring at him from below the branches. The Tiefling's heart drops into his stomach, fear creeping up his spine as he realizes that he's trapped. One of them, a man with curled horns, speaks in a language he doesn't understand, and the druid tilts his head. His amber eyes are wide, breaths visibly heavy as he perches and clings to the bark of the tree. A woman speaks up, a Tiefling like himself, and tries to speak to him in the language he doesn't know again. He grips the branch, tail wrapped around it to keep him steady while his head tilts the other way. Then he hears it. The language he hasn't spoken in years; the language he had missed the comforts of. Infernal. His eyes widened for a moment, breathing becoming still. The group sees him soften and lets the tall woman take the lead, repeating her question.
“What's your name?”
He speaks, voice rough and feral as the language falls from his lips like rocks.
“My name… is Bernt.”