As William and his group were moving in the night back at the grove, a certain Goth cleric and a Githyanki warrior were at the brink of coming to blows in front of the grove's vine and moss-covered gate.
Shadowheart slammed into the gate and rolled to the side, narrowly missing a kick that sent tremors through the stone gate.
"Istik..." Lae'zel spat as she turned and raised her sword to deflect the incoming mace blow.
CLANG
She absorbed the brunt of the force with the flat side of her longsword, utilizing the momentum generated to perform a tight, controlled spin and then unleashed a forceful blow against Shadowheart's face with the pommel of her weapon. This impact sent the cleric sprawling onto the ground, her nose bleeding profusely.
Lae'zel pointed her blade forward and lunged, planning to end the fight in one fell swoop. But when she reached the halfway point, Shadowheart's body began to give off a soft but dark light that focused on the palm of her hand, forming an orb of radiant energy which she sent screaming towards Lae'zel.
Lae'zel was still mid charge when the bolt of radiant energy struck her chest.
BOOM
The blast not only halted her forward momentum, but it also resulted in a fresh wound on her chest, specifically just below the shoulder where the armor was found to be at its most vulnerable. Blood began to erupt from this wound in violent, forceful spurts causing Lae'zel to grit her teeth.
"Lucky shot Istik!!"
Shadowheart stood to her full height and spat out a generous glob of blood before glaring at Lae'zel.
"I'm just getting started Githyanki bitch!"
Her mouth moved in a chant that echoed around her as if multiple people were speaking at once, and around her body, shimmering copies of herself seemed to superimpose, flowing in and around her in hypnotic rhythms meant to make one more likely to miss their target.
She reddied herself for the inevitable clash, her shimmering copies continue to weave around and within her.
Lae'zel narrowed her eyes and dug her heels into the dirt, the sword now raised overhead was glinting in the starlight and nearby fires.
Instead of resorting to a spell, she simply raised her weapon above her head, her grip tightening so much that the knuckles on her hands turned a stark, white color.
Moments passed, and the grove itself seemed to hold its breath as nearby Tieflings and Druids watched from a distance.
Suddenly, as if they had reached a shared understanding, they both lunged towards each other, swinging their respective weapons.
Lae'zel, her longsword raised in a strike, had been convinced that she had found her target, the soft flesh and bone of the creature she was facing.
However, instead of piercing through her opponent's body, the blade seemed to go right through them, as if she were striking thin air. And to her astonishment, the blade ended up stuck firmly in the ground, her attack completely ineffective.
Shadowheart smashed her mace into Lae'zel's back and kicked her away with dismissal in her eyes.
Lae'zel stood immediately and looked towards the sword she was using, still stuck in the ground by Shadowheart's feet.
"Oh... You want this sword, don't you?" She taunted with a devious smirk, clearly enjoying herself.
Suddenly Lae'zel shot forth towards the direction of the sword, and Shadowheart began channeling her divine patron for another bolt of divine energy.
A crackle of divine energy, radiating a sense of judgment, shot towards Lae'zel, but then Lae'zel surprised everyone by activating an innate Githyanki ability.
Using this ability, she leaped into the air with such force that Shadowheart's bolt of divine energy narrowly missed her, and Lae'zel was able to cover the significant distance effortlessly, landing gracefully right on top of Shadowheart before she even had a chance to react effectively.
Shadowheart collapsed to the ground, struck hard and fast by the sudden arrival of heavily armored Lae'zel, who landed right on top of her.
Lae'zel punched her in the face causing a ribbon of blood to shoot out of her nose and she tore the shield free from her grasp, before forcing the mace from her hands with superior physical strength.
"I'm a warrior, Shadowheart... I don't need weapons... They need me!" Lae'zel declared before delivering a nasty headbutt that knocked the cleric unconscious.
Lae'zel wiped the cleric's blood away from her face, her eyes narrowed as she slowly began to rise from the ground. She made her way over to the sword that was still lying buried deep within the dirt, and with a powerful, almost violent jerk, she pulled it free. Turning around, she walked towards Shadowheart's unconscious form, the sword held aloft above her head.
The nearby onlookers began to shield their eyes from the coming slaughter, however, right before she could decide to swing the blade and finish Shadowheart, a surge of pink and purple magic shot forth and struck Lae'zel, causing her to suddenly pause, before her eyes became heavy and she fell backwards into a magically induced sleep.
Gale, standing there with his staff in his hand and a look of apparent disappointment etched on his face, was followed by Wyll, who held his rapier raised, his eyes scanning the surroundings and anticipating a confrontation. However, his surprise was palpable when he realized that both woman were already unconscious.
With a firm grip, Gale planted the butts of his staff directly into the dirt, as though he were anchoring the entire night.
Standing amidst the two fallen women, he appeared as if he were a scholar thrust into the uncomfortable role of referee. One hand held a staff, and the confiscated weapons were neatly laid aside, out of reach behind him.
Shadowheart's mace rested there.
Lae'zel's sword beside it.
Silent.
Neutralized.
Wyll remained nearby, rapier lowered but ready, his eyes flicking between the unconscious pair.
"Right," Gale muttered, rubbing the temples of his head. "Let's try this whole thing without having anyone end up bleeding all over the lovely landscape."
With a careful gesture and a murmured incantation, the powerful magical drowsiness finally began to unwind and dissipate.
Shadowheart groaned loudly, her body twisting onto her side as her hand instinctively reached for her mace.
Her fingers closed around nothing but the dry, dusty dirt, and her eyes shot open, sharp and filled with a furious intensity.
La'zel followed close behind, her heartbeat accelerating just a moment later as she surged upright, responding instinctively with a warrior's reflexes. But then, her hand found nothing. She froze, her sword nowhere to be seen.
The pause lasted exactly one breath.
They lunged anyway.
Shadowheart swung an empty fist.
Lae'zel answered with a brutal step forward, shoulders lowered, pure instinct overriding reason.
Will reacted with incredible speed, his blade flashing across the air, while Gale drove his staff down with a resounding crack against the stone path in front of him.
"Enough!"
The word rang with arcane authority, echoing louder than it had any right to.
Simultaneously, both women came to a sudden stop, their chests rising and falling rapidly as they focused their attention on the unfolding scene in front of them.
No weapons.
An audience.
And there stood Gale, looking like a man whose entire evening had just been completely and irrevocably derailed by the emotional decisions made by someone else.
Shadowheart initially let out a sharp, scoffing sound as she straightened up, then proceeded to brush off the dirt and grime that had accumulated on her armor with a combination of stiff and irritated gestures.
She folded her arms tightly across her chest, her face turned away from me with a display of exaggerated disdain.
Lae'zel followed suit a mere fraction of a second later, crossing her arms with the same stiff, rigid angle as before, while her entire body was angled sharply in the opposite direction, her jawline set like stone.
If hatred were something that carried real weight, the distance between them would have been completely obliterated.
Gale exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose.
He replied with a dry tone, saying, "Wonderful. The posturing is complete, violence is postponed, and progress has been made, in its own peculiar way."
He'd scan them both with a critical gaze, switching his attention from one rigid back to the next, before finally lifting his finger, as if he were addressing particularly dull students.
"Now, if I may draw your attention to the far more pressing matter at hand," he continued, his voice slipping into that familiar cadence of scholarly authority, "both of you are currently hosting mind flayer parasites, in fact, all of us are."
"Parasitic organisms with a documented tendency to transform their hosts into tentacled nightmares."
That earned him their attention.
Shadowheart stilled.
Lae'zel's shoulders tightened.
Gale continued to speak passionately about the topic at hand. "Given this unfortunate situation, I would respectfully suggest that investing the remaining time you have trying to eliminate each other is… frankly, a rather inefficient use of your resources. A cure is clearly the more pressing priority. And if possible, I would strongly encourage you to start working on it before either of you manage to develop extra slimy appendages"
For a moment, the night held its breath again.
Then, slowly, both women turned.
Their gazes locked, eyes narrowed into sharp slits, and their faces were etched with an expression of utter, unadulterated loathing for one another.
With an almost eerie synchronicity, they both spoke at the same time, their voices blending into a single, harsh, and bitter tone.
"I'll kill you later."
They blinked.
Scowled.
They turned their bodies sharply, their movements swift and deliberate, and began to move past one another with a noticeable degree of animosity. Both women seemed determined to move forward ahead of the other, as if they were merely an inconvenience or an obstacle in their path.
Gale watched them go, then glanced at Wyll.
"…I'll take that as a tentative agreement," he said, adjusting his grip on the staff.
Gale lingered for only a moment longer, watching as the two women took a step back and put a good distance between themselves and the clearing where he stood.
Their boots seemed to cut parallel paths across the grass, never truly converging yet also never straying too far apart from one another either.
Hostile orbit.
Stable, for now.
He sighed and adjusted the strap of his satchel.
"Well," he said, turning to Wyll, "I suppose the alternative is letting them storm off alone while still emotionally volatile and biologically compromised. A thrilling prospect, but perhaps not the wisest."
Wyll followed Shadowheart and Lae'zel with his eyes. Both were already at work, efficient despite the tension.
Shadowheart quickly checked the contents of her pack, re-fastening the straps and reclaiming her shield with a sharp tug, her movements clipped and focused.
La'zel carefully inspected her sword, searching for any signs of damage, then with a decisive motion that carried both promise and an undercurrent of menace, she smoothly slid it back into its scabbard.
"They're not running, Wyll," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "They're preparing."
"Which is somehow worse..." Gale replied, then started after them.
They finally caught up near the outer gate of the grove, where the moonlight seemed to pool against the old stone walls, and the creeping vines cast long shadows.
Standing just inside the archway, her arms were once again folded across her chest, and her gaze was directed resolutely outward toward the dark road stretching out beyond.
Lae'zel stood directly opposite her, hands resting firmly on her hips, her posture was completely rigid, and her chin was held high, as if daring the night itself to defy her.
Neither spoke as Gale and Wyll approached.
Lae'zel broke first.
"We go east," she said flatly. "There is a creche within reach. Githyanki know how to deal with illithid parasites. They always have."
Shadowheart turned her head slightly in the direction of the speaker, her gaze lingering on them for a moment. One eyebrow was raised, a slight hint of curiosity or amusement in her expression.
"You're talking about that place, right? The one where I'd be dissected the second I took a wrong breath?"
"Captured," Lae'zel corrected. "Interrogated. Possibly killed. Efficient."
Gale cleared his throat, a small smile playing on his lips. "A truly glowing endorsement indeed."
La'zel's eyes flickered towards him, sharp and filled with impatience. "Do you doubt my people?"
"I honestly doubt that anyone who genuinely considers 'possibly killed' an acceptable margin of error would actually do so," Gale replied. "And particularly when we're all carrying the same rather delicate and sensitive issue within our own minds."
Wyll cleared his throat. "William and his group were last seen heading toward the old monastery," he said. "If anyone's learned more about these tadpoles, it'll be them."
"Strength in numbers wouldn't hurt either."
A pause followed.
Not agreement, but consideration.
Lae'zel's jaw tightened. "Very well. We regroup." She glanced sideways, just enough for Shadowheart to notice. "After that, we decide."
Shadowheart took a step back from the wall and whispered, "Try your best to keep your emotions in check."
Lae'zel clicked her tongue and spat, "You are one to talk Istik!"
At this point, the gate creaked and groaned open, its vines dragging themselves reluctantly across the stone surface as the path beyond finally came into view.
The road ahead stretched into the encroaching darkness, winding its way deeper and deeper toward the broken silhouette of the monastery, which was perched precariously against the hills like a skeletal ruin, its grandeur and beauty somewhat diminished by time and neglect as well as it's current occupants.
One by one, they stepped through.
Behind them, the grove settled back into uneasy silence.
Ahead, the night awaited, heavy with unanswered questions, alien parasites, and the faint hope that somewhere beyond the monastery walls, William and his group might already be preparing for the same inevitable storm.
They set off together, not united, but moving in the same direction.