The first thing Lae'zel did upon landing was pick up the Everburn Blade. Even though Ethemon and his companions had just saved her life, it didn't earn them a single friendly smile; instead, her attitude remained haughty. "It seems the Mind Flayer Tadpole hasn't completely eaten your brain. You made the right move."
"Would it kill you to say thank you?" Ethemon joked, his smile never wavering.
"You'd sooner suggest bowing to a dragon," Lae'zel shot him a sidelong glance. "Given what you just did, I might let you come with me to find my people. They know how to deal with this vile worm—provided I can find a creche."
"Ha, what an arrogant display," said Shadowheart. It was clear she and Lae'zel rubbed each other the wrong way. The previously gentle half-elf cleric made no effort to hide her hostility. "Looks like she takes you for a gullible child, Ethemon. Don't let her take advantage of you."
"Sharp-tongued elf," Lae'zel sneered. "Pity your brain isn't quite as keen."
"Thank you, I'm a half-elf," Shadowheart replied with an identical look. "Though I suppose someone like you couldn't possibly tell the difference."
"Ooh, are you two going to fight?" Astarion asked, thoroughly enjoying the spectacle and eager for drama.
"Alright, ladies! Calm down." Ethemon hastily called a halt to the impending clash between the two women. He gave Shadowheart a helpless look, signaling her to calm down and stop provoking Lae'zel, then turned back to the Githyanki. "What is a creche? Are you certain your people can solve our problem?"
"A creche is our hatchery, training ground, and sanctuary," Lae'zel said, her face brimming with pride and trust in her race. "The creed of the Githyanki is clear. If infected by a ghaik's Mind Flayer Tadpole, we must report to a ghustil and seek purification."
It seemed Lae'zel's Common was still a bit rusty, as phrases from her own tongue slipped out from time to time.
Though he didn't quite understand the meaning of those specific words, Ethemon was fairly sure Lae'zel and her kind genuinely had a way out of this. After thinking for just a few seconds, he nodded and agreed, "Fine. We'll stick together and look for the creche."
"Ethemon?!" Shadowheart looked extremely surprised and displeased, her brow furrowing tightly.
"Calm down, Shadowheart." Ethemon smiled and winked at her, looking as though he had a specific plan in mind. Shadowheart's angry expression faltered; catching his drift, she let out a cold snort, but offered no further objection.
Lae'zel was a fighter and had never cared for subtle glances and silent exchanges. Once she got Ethemon's confirmation, a smile immediately broke across her face. "Splendid. Let's move. We'll go find the camp of those horned creatures. That fellow Zevrol they mentioned earlier—he has seen my people before. Find him, and we're bound to find the creche."
Ethemon nodded. Then, as if suddenly remembering something, he asked Lae'zel, "Right, before we leave, do you mind squeezing in one more fight?"
Lae'zel: ?
＊
Astarion curiously reached out a finger, letting the black Raven calmly allow him to stroke its feathers. A smile touched Astarion's face as he casually fed it one of the berries Ethemon had given him earlier.
"You know conjuration? You certainly didn't use it back on the Nautiloid," Shadowheart said.
"You know how it is—my brain is still total mush, and I can only piece things together in bits and fragments. I only just remembered how to cast this spell." Ethemon flicked his hand, and the black Raven instantly darted into the air, circled twice, and observed carefully for a moment before flying back down.
As he stroked its smooth plumage, the bird-calls in other people's ears translated into clear sentences inside Ethemon's mind.
"There are four of them. Two are on guard up high, and the other two are at the main gate. They're talking about grave-robbing."
Stroking those sleek feathers with satisfaction, Ethemon dismissed the spell. His smile was gentle, but his words were cold. "Everyone, ready for a fight?"
Ethemon and the others hid behind a massive boulder. Behind them stood a weathered, stone-piled structure where faint traces of past prosperity could still be glimpsed on the patterned floor tiles. It was an abandoned temple, and he had heard voices coming from this direction earlier while searching for a water source with Shadowheart.
Originally, Ethemon had simply wanted to see if he could ask for directions, but after lurking in the background and listening for a while, he realized these wretches likely never expected anyone else to be around, openly discussing tomb-raiding and pillaging like a pack of desperate outlaws.
When it was just the four of them, Ethemon had worried they might be shorthanded—he had even been pondering what to do when Astarion hastily dragged him away. Now, with Lae'zel's addition, their odds of winning were much higher.
Having scouted the outlaws' positions with the Raven, Ethemon immediately mapped out their next moves: Shadowheart and Gale would circle around the flank to take out the caster stationed on the high ground, Lae'zel would deal with the rock gnome up high, and Astarion—
Ethemon handed a bow to him, causing the elf—who had been acting as a spectator on the sidelines—to blink in bewildered surprise. "For me?"
"That's right. You looked pretty eager to volunteer just now. See that massive boulder hanging over those two bandits? Looks like some old lifting gear left behind. You just need to sneak over to the edge of the bushes and shoot the rope."
Ethemon spoke as casually as if he were asking someone to pick up a scrap of paper. But Astarion stared at the rope holding up that giant boulder; weathered as it was, it was still a thick hempen cable—how on earth was he supposed to snap that?! He wasn't some legendary marksman!
Astarion wanted to ask Ethemon to reconsider, but the moment he raised his head, the others had already taken their assignments and briskly moved toward the positions Ethemon had designated, leaving Ethemon alone to flash him an exceptionally innocent smile.
"They'll wait for our signal. The moment the rock drops, they'll make their move."
"I advise you to reconsider. What if I miss and give away our position beforehand?" Astarion offered a dry, nervous laugh.
"Don't worry, Astarion. I have absolute faith in your elven racial traits. Besides," Ethemon picked up a bow of his own, "aren't I here too?"
Seeing Ethemon's smiling face, Astarion felt an unreasoning wave of irritation. Throwing aside his previous ingratiating attitude, he twitched the corner of his mouth into a fake smile, snatched the bow prepared for him, and snapped, "I'm just so grateful for your trust."
With that, he turned on his heel and dived into the bushes. Watching Astarion drop his smile and take on a solemn, focused expression, Ethemon's grin only widened.
Crouching in the bushes, Astarion gave a soft snap of his fingers, and a vibrant flame leaped to life on his razor-sharp arrowhead—his racial trait, Fire Bolt.
Draw the bow, take aim, release!
The flame tore through the air in a brilliant red streak, flashing like lightning straight toward the hempen rope. The sharp arrowhead pierced clean through, and the fire instantly raced upward, burning the fragile cord in mere seconds. Without a moment's hesitation, the heavy boulder plunged downward. The bandit standing below didn't even have time to grunt before he was instantly killed!
The dull, heavy thud startled the guard on high patrol. But before they could cry out, the enemies lurking behind them struck with sudden violence. Lae'zel's sword flashed, slicing clean through the rock gnome's neck in a single stroke. Blood sprayed instantly, yet not a single drop soiled her silver armor.
Gale and Shadowheart's teamwork was equally fluid and effortless. A Hold Person spell combined with an unsparing, crushing blow meant the green-robed caster passed away without ever laying eyes on their attacker.
Gale even had time to cast a minor water spell to wash the blood off Shadowheart's hammer.
In a matter of moments, the bandit squad was completely wiped out.
"Well, your aim wasn't half bad," Ethemon said, looping an arm around Astarion's shoulder. The chilling contact made him pause in puzzlement for a fraction of a second before he smiled and went to regroup with the rest of the team.
Ethemon picked through the bandits' packs for anything useful to take with him, then cast his gaze toward the heavy door they had been guarding. Fast as they had been, and even though the bandits hadn't managed to cry out for help, surely the people inside weren't completely oblivious? Was there nobody in there? Should they go inside and search? They hadn't found much gold all the way here; when they finally found a merchant, upgrading their weapons was going to cost a pretty penny.
With that thought in mind, Ethemon turned his head—right into Shadowheart's expressionless stare.
"Uh, what is it?"
"You were just wondering if you should barge in and take a look around, weren't you?" Her tone was completely flat.
"Well..." Ethemon guiltily looked away, continuing to ramble on, "Since we've already fought them, why not go inside and have a look before we leave?"
Seeing that Shadowheart was about to open her mouth with a sarcastic remark, Ethemon immediately turned to look for an ally. "Hey Lae'zel, there's probably plenty more of their cronies inside the temple. Do you dare come in and have a scrap with me?" *Hey, fancy joining me for some murder?*
"Are you joking?" Clearly, that last skirmish hadn't even been enough to serve as a warm-up for Lae'zel; if anything, it had only whetted her appetite. With nothing else to do right now, her eyes burned with excitement. "I never shy away from a fight!"
The two youngest and most bellicose members of the group huddled together to mutter in hushed tones, leaving Shadowheart suddenly overwhelmed by a deep, weary sense of exhaustion. *They really are just a pair of immature brats!*
In the end, she couldn't out-stubborn Ethemon. The group hid their supplies in the bushes outside, then crept lightly toward the wooden door.
Ethemon took the lead, pressing his ear against the door. Inside was dead silent, with no movement at all. He tried the latch—it was locked.
Ethemon pulled out the tools he had scavenged from the bandits, carefully probing the door crack. After just a few seconds of work, the door clicked open from within.
"Woohoo, looks like I'm still a natural at picking locks," Ethemon whispered. He pushed the door open just a crack to peer inside. The darkvision granted by the half-elf allowed him to clearly observe the scene: tables and chairs scattered about, cheese and sausages piled high on the dining tables, but not a single soul in sight.
Ethemon instinctively wanted to push the door open a bit further, but Astarion caught him firmly by the wrist. "Wait."
All eyes turned toward Astarion as he fished a few stones out of his pocket, keeping his other hand on the door handle. "Ready to rush in at a moment's notice, everyone?"
The others nodded. Astarion tossed the stones quickly behind the door, slammed it shut, and leapt backward out of the way.
"Bang! Thud! Whoosh!" A rapid succession of heavy thuds echoed alongside the sound of tearing arrows. Even the thick wooden door shuddered under the impact. Through the sudden chaos, Ethemon instantly picked out the sound of hurried footsteps.
Exchanging a glance with Lae'zel, he kicked the door open with brute force. The two of them rushed inside, dropping into a roll that instantly carried them clear of the flying bolts, and threw their looted hand-axes in a fluid counter-motion. A bandit collapsed with a cry.
Listening to the rising chaos inside, punctuated by swearing and Lae'zel's high-pitched battle cry, the three left behind outside were acutely aware they had just unleashed a pair of unleashed hounds.
Shadowheart sighed, then efficiently and nimbly cast a Blessing on the two combatants tearing through the room.