Strongjaw & The Dish

17

It would be time soon. It had been several months since Pike and Scanlan had returned from their honeymoon, tan of skin and filled with contentment. There had been much work done to the house, fixing things and making it into a little temple space as well as a home. Now it was done and Grog was ready to unveil The Plan.

In a month more, Vex'ahlia would add a new member to the De Rolo line and everyone involved would be there. That would be the best time to unveil it. Scanlan and Pike sat up in front of the wagon and he occupied the back along with the presents and gear. He watched Westrun fade into farmland, his knee raised and his chin settled atop it. He loved Westruun, and he hated it.

He thought back to when he'd first come to Westruun. Of being so broken and so lost. How Wilhand and Pike had been there for him and how he learned from her what family was. They didn't care that he was a goliath and they were just tiny little gnomes. They just saw he was in trouble. That seemed so long ago. So much had happened since then.

He had fought to free Westruun. Slain Kevdak in the middle of the city. Brokered a peace that got the herd to move on. All they seemed to see was just another goliath. A monster who looked like them. Who fought beside them. Who let them live and go free after all they'd done. Every trip to Westruun to get food, or ale it was hard eyes and mothers pulling their children closer, fearful he'd suddenly attack them or something.

He understood it. He did. It wasn't easy to go through all the suffering they had. He'd seen Reginald's daughter's face when he'd gotten her out of the cell. Saw how she'd been hurt and he couldn't make himself tell her what happened to her father. Killed just for helping them. Killed by a goliath just like him. He did understand.

But then again, he didn't. He wasn't like them. They should know that. They should know he wouldn't hurt anyone. Well, yeah, being fair, he had hurt someone. He'd cut Kevdak in half. Then there was Greenbeard. Oh, and Horace, that'd been him. So was Suda. Okay, but wasn't that good? Didn't it prove that he was on their side? No, that didn't matter. He was a goliath, he'd always be 'one of them'.

His head was starting to ache, so he slid back, stretching out and watching the clouds overhead to see what shapes they might make. He was a member of Vox Machina! Ask anyone, they were the good guys! Heroes! Legendary even! Only they weren't. They were just people. People who tried to do the right thing and most of the time got pretty close. A family of fuck-ups who lucked out when it counted the most.

People said they'd saved the world. Only, they hadn't. They'd just stopped some big troubles. There would be more. There always were. Small ones too. Frustrated, he sat up, siding off the cart to walk a bit. The wind picked up a dandelion tuft and sent a cloud of white drifting. Yeah, trouble was like that. Tiny seeds that could turn into weeds that overtook everything if not caught early.

He kicked a mound of dirt, sending it into a cloud of dust. Trouble. It never ended, only the names changed. He didn't like change, but he understood it better now than he used to. If you didn't change, you couldn't grow. Change was happening all around him and he was going to have to more than accept it, he was going to have to do it himself.

All the hard thinking went away when they reached Whitestone. Percy and Vex were waiting in the parlor to welcome them, Vex looking like she'd swallowed a beholder whole. Percy was at her back in his usual supportive stance, obviously nervous and proud all at the same time. Grog was super gentle when he hugged Vex, having horrible flashes of imagining squeezing her and the baby just popping out and flying across the room.

Babbling wildly, Vesper, her dark hair sticking up in all directions wildly came toddling from the side of the parlor with a squeal, a slender elven girl behind her, laughing and making growling noises with a stuffed owlbear.