Waukeen's Rest
It started off as a pleasant enough day.
Their walk is blessed with good weather, birds chirping along merrily to keep them company. It’s so pleasant that they get to chattering amongst themselves about mundanities until a sharp, acrid smell taints the fresh mountain air.
“Smoke?”
“Something’s burning-”
They pick up their pace; sure enough, as they follow the smell, they can see flickering red flames growing closer, thick black smoke billowing up into the sky.
“What’s happening-”
“Gods-”
Wyll breaks into a sprint, single eye alight with panic.
“No-”
He charges forward like he knows this place- which he probably does.
“Hey soldier, hold up!” Karlach shouts, running after him.
“Well this can’t be good,” Shadowheart complains, mostly to herself, as they approach.
A dozen or so goblin corpses lay bleeding out on the ground, with the odd drow to spice things up.
This is bad, they can tell, even though they can’t tell what makes this place so important to Wyll.
The huge building looks entirely engulfed in flames- a few of the armored people slam themselves against the large door in the central building, shouting and growing increasingly panicked as they do.
“Duke Ravengard could still be in there!” a woman with dark skin and dark, braided hair shouts. “Come on, push-”
Wyll looks ready to faint, but it looks like they don’t have the luxury of waiting for him to gather himself.
Hidan trots up to the door, blissfully unbothered.
“Outta the way!” he shouts. “I got this shit!”
The others part to allow him to approach.
There’s a weak spot in the oak doors, weakened by the fire.
It should be easy enough, if he hits it in the right way.
Or hard enough. Which shouldn’t be a problem for him.
He takes a running start, aiming his shoulder square at the weak spot.
Just as he’d hoped, the doors come crashing down- with him right on top of them.
“Fuck-” he groans, his ears ringing from the impact of his skull on the floor.
Feet stampede around him, running to rescue the trapped duke whateverthefuck.
He gets back to his feet, shaking his head and looking around at the inferno raging through the entire building.
“Yo, Kisame!” he shouts. “These idiots are gonna get their asses roasted if they keep running through this place. Wanna give ‘em a hand?”
“Yeah, I suppose I should do that, huh? You might wanna get outta the way.”
Hidan ducks just in time to avoid a wave of frigid water rushing past him, spreading out to douse the greedy flames and evaporating into steam as it goes.
“These folks have had better days,” he remarks, squinting to try to find the staircase through the smoke.
“Here’s hopin’ we don’t fuck it up any worse-” Hidan growls. “The whole damn building is gonna come falling down on top of us if we aren’t quick about it.”
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry- Itachi’s caused bigger fires than this and I didn’t have trouble putting it out.”
Hoping the building won’t come down on top of them, Kisame charges forward, putting out the flames where he can while Hidan follows, trying to find Wyll through the smoke.
“Hey where the fuck are you?!” he shouts.
He doesn’t get an answer, but he hears shouting, so he heads in that direction.
“Get me out of here!” he hears a woman yell.
The armored woman from earlier calls back.
“We hear you! Just hold on!”
Taking a longsword to a door to break it down feels a little excessive, but it definitely gets the job done.
A woman in fancy purple clothes, with deep brown skin and jet black hair, bursts through the smoke and flames.
“Counselor!”
The woman looks from the armored people, to Kisame, then to Hidan.
“...Proper thanks will have to wait,” she says, sounding annoyed about that. “Come on, let’s get out of here!”
They follow the path Kisame made to escape the building- Wyll follows not long after, carrying a man who’s badly burnt and covered in soot.
“Gods- fresh air at last- I didn’t think I would see it-”
The woman doubles over, coughing and retching and taking in great gulps of cool air.
“Counsellor Florrick?”
Wyll hurries to her side, helping steady her and keep her on her feet.
“Are you alright? Are you hurt?”
“No- it’ll take more than a bit of fire to do me in…”
Florrick trails off, looking up and realizing who it is she’s looking at.
“Wyll? Is that really you?”
The woman looks equal measures confused and heartbroken.
“I- yes. It’s me. I wish we could have met at a better time.”
Florrick takes a moment to let the information sink in, then takes a deep breath and lets it go.
“Where is Father?” Wyll asks, sounding one harsh word away from tears.
“Taken, I fear. I lost sight of him in the fire.”
“Taken by who?”
Florrick gestures to the corpses of goblins and a couple drow laying on the ground.
“Cultists,” she explains. “For something called The Absolute.”
The Absolute. Again.
“Huh. We just had to bail some tieflings out from people who talked about the same thing,” Hidan remarks. “Seems like it’s spreading.”
“Spreading like a virus,” Shadowheart agrees, with a frown.
“If they took him, where would they have taken him to?” Wyll demands.
“They mentioned a place,” Florrick says. “Moonrise Towers, they called it.”
“Well isn’t that just a fun coincidence?” Kisame replies. “We just so happen to be heading that way.”
“If you make it there, please find him!” Florrick implores. “Duke Ravengard cannot fall into their hands-”
“-She’s right,” Wyll chimes in. “if the cult get their claws into him, he could lead the entirety of the Sword Coast to ruin.”
“You seem to care an awful lot about him.”
Wyll sighs, nodding in acknowledgement.
“I know I haven’t said- our relationship is not a point of pride. Least of all to him. But he is my father.”
Hidan looks from Wyll to Florrick with wide-eyed disbelief.
“Eh?! You’re some hoity-toity noble’s kid? No fuckin way!”
“-guess that means we don’t have much of a choice then.” Kisame says. “If we’re heading that way anyway, it should be no trouble to find him. Maybe we’ll even get lucky and run into him on the way.”
“Could you? You would be doing the Coast a great service…”
Kisame doesn’t particularly care about the Sword Coast (which he assumes he is currently in), but if they’re truly already heading that way, having a nobleman owe them a favor wouldn’t be the worst thing.
He watches Karlach help the last few stragglers out of the building, not bothered one bit by the heat.
“Yeah. We’ll take care of it.” He finally decides.
“Good- now, Flaming Fists-”
Florrick straightens up, addressing her group with authority.
“You have your orders. We must find the Duke. Watch each other’s backs and move quickly. Helm help us all-”
The Fists nod and head out, firm in their orders.
“Here.”
Florrick holds out a wickedly sharp trident made of polished copper and steel.
“If you’re going to go on the hunt, you’ll need a good weapon, won’t you?”
Fine craftsmanship- as he takes it from her, it crackles with electricity, feeling almost alive.
“I’ll put it to good use.” he assures her, before turning to regroup with the others and get moving once more.
Shadowheart is kneeling down next to the Flaming Fist by the gate, silently watching as she prays over her fallen companion with a stony expression.
When the Fist stops her prayer, Shadowheart finally speaks.
“The raiders,” she says. “Do you know what direction they headed?”
The fist points toward the mountains, just as they suspected.
“I couldn’t see if they had the duke with them. But I know they took other prisoners.”
“If any of them survived, we’ll find them.”
The mourning young woman makes a small sound of acknowledgement.
“...Thank you.”
Blood and footprints make for an easy trail to follow- at least for now.
The sky goes dark, blotted out by an enormous creature with shiny scarlet scales.
It seems too large to take flight, yet the proof is right there, soaring through the sky with impossible grace.
Just barely, they make out a humanoid figure atop the massive creature.
Lae’zel lights up, straightening up.
“A dragon rider! My kin are near-”
“Yeah? Well that was fuckin’ easy.”
“...are we sure they’ll be happy to see us?” Shadowheart asks, growing somehow even more pale than usual.
“They will- but only if I ask. So stay near me.”
Shadowheart rolls her eyes, though that doesn’t totally mask her anxiety.
Clearly there’s something she’s hiding, but everyone knows that prying won’t get them anywhere.
They hold their breath as they follow in the path of the dragon until they come across a small group of people who look an awful lot like Lae’zel, confronting a group of men in the same sort of armor as the ones at Waukeen’s Rest.
There’s unintelligible shouting, shoving, then the Gith lash out, slaughtering the humans before they even have the chance to react.
Ruthless. Kisame could get used to working with them.
Assuming they’re open to the possibility, of course.
They talk frantically amongst themselves in their native tongue, oblivious as Lae’zel rushes to speak with them.
She shouts to get their attention, looking so relieved, until the one who is clearly the leader raises a hand to cut her off.
He says something that makes her face fall, wearing an unbearably condescending expression. She speaks again, but her voice is quieter, and she squirms on the spot uncomfortably.
The man looks at Kisame, then scans over the others, before he speaks again- this time in a language they can understand.
"You know who I am, child."
Lae'zel bows her head, and speaks through gritted teeth.
“ Jhe'stil kith’rak Voss. I seek aid.”
“And I may give it- you have caught me in a charitable mood, child. But first- your name.”
“...Lae’zel.”
“Lae’zel,” the man repeats, with a condescending smile. “Proud. Regal, even.”
He pretends to mull her request over for a few seconds.
“You seek aid- I may grant it, but first I would need aid in return.”
“Of course. What do you require?”
“It is not what I require- it is our queen.”
Ah yes. Lae’zel had mentioned her before. Kisame leans in as much as he can without looking too nosy , curious about where this may lead.
“What does she require of us?”
“She seeks a weapon. It was stolen from our people, and we must return it.”
A strange uncertain feeling sweeps through them- a weird sensation of fear that does not come from their own minds.
Rather, it comes from the artifact in Shadowheart’s pack.
Though Kisame doesn’t understand it, he knows that the artifact is afraid of being found.
Lae’zel seems to feel it too. Her yellow eyes dart around nervously.
“Speak up, child,” Voss says, curtly. “Affirm your mandate.”
Play along, Kisame urges him, reaching out to him via their shared infection.
he she does not respond, but he feels her understanding.
“You honor me with this task, jhe'stil kith’rak ,” she says, with a small bow of deference.
This satisfies him, and he smiles.
“Our queen watches us,” he reminds her. “Fail her at your peril.”
“I understand.”
The Kith’rak mounts his dragon once more, and takes off into the sky at unfathomable speed. The other gith scatter without another word, not acknowledging their existence.
Lae’zel is silent for a moment, before suddenly letting loose with a bitter “ tsk’va! ”, flushing with embarrassment.
“Eh? Something up?”
“Damn it all!” Lae’zel snaps. “Kith’rak or not, he thinks he can make a fool of me?!
She throws her hands out in frustration.
“You did well to intervene,” she says to Kisame. “I do not know what he would have said if we were to confess…”
She shakes her head.
“I will not allow anyone to make a fool of me. Even the jhe’stil Voss. We will find my kin- and deal with him once we are purified.”
Kisame nods along.
“So, what exactly is a kith’rak, anyway?”
“Githyanki knights. Those counted amongst Vlaakith’s most favored.”
She looks up at the sky.
“A red dragon,” she sighs longingly. “Would that I rode such a steed.”
Her earnestness is oddly charming.
"Maybe once we're done here, you'll get one of your own."
Lae'zel does not answer this, but she lights up at the thought in a way that's quite charming.
"Onward and upward then?" Wyll offers, jerking his head in the direction they're supposed to go.
"Yes. If my kin are here, a creche must be nearby."
Shadowheart clutches at her hand, cringing in pain.
"...Let's not wait then," Karlach says. "The sooner we get this worm outta our heads, the better we'll be."