The Heist

The silence hung thick in the air. The kind that wraps around a brewing idea, just before it turns from thought, to dream, to action.

I could still hear Ragzlin in the chamber below, his voice booming through the vaulted ceiling. The incantations rose in waves, each word deeper, heavier. He was nearly finished. The mind flayer corpse lay still, but something vibrated under the surface—a psychic hum crawling down the stones.

I glanced at the girls.

Lae'zel stood waiting, finally settled into her new form—curvier, less defined. Yet capable of inflicting serious damage. Torchlight glanced off her skin and armor alike, giving her a dangerous glow.

Karlach was shifting on her heels, cracked knuckles flexing. Her infernal skin shimmered in the low light, pulsing with bustling energy. She looked like she was ready to smash something. Anything.

And then there was Shadowheart—quiet and composed. One hand rested on her hip. Her gaze was fixed on me—not impatient, but purposeful. Every glance she gave said the same thing: lets leave this place. She didn’t speak, didn’t need to. Silent.

Silent..

SILENCE (!)

I gestured for them to huddle close. They leaned in as I whispered our new plan.

"Shadowheart, I need you to cast Silence. Right here, around the door. And for all that is holy, don’t drop the spell. Focus on it. Lock it in."

Her brow furrowed. "Silence? What for—"

I turned to the other two. "Karlach, Lae'zel—Smash that door. Unleash hell. Go nuts. When it opens, grab everything. And I mean everything!"

The three of them stared at me. The door was heavy iron. Reinforced. Probably older than most of the goblins.

Shadowheart narrowed her eyes. "And what, exactly, will you be doing?"

I offered her a smile. "Me? I stall for time."

[Shadowheart: Approval -1]

She muttered something under her breath—probably not a compliment—but raised her hand. A small bloom of pale energy gathered in her palm and then burst outward in a sphere. A dome of silence surrounded the door, devouring all noise like a void.

Karlach and Lae'zel didn’t wait for a second signal.

They went to work.

It was surreal—watching them unleash chaos in perfect, unnatural quiet. Lae’zel’s paladin blade rose and fell in crushing arcs, each strike landing with a vibration you could feel but not hear. Karlach’s axe was a blur of muscle and glowing sinew, slamming into the iron with enough **** to chip stone. But the only sound was the murmurs of the ritual below.

I watched the door carefully. After the third strike, I saw it. Hairline fractures. A bend in the hinges. Progress.

But it would take time.

Down below, Ragzlin's voice changed. It deepened into something raw, arcane. The final verse of the spell. He was about to connect with the mind flayer.

I bolted down the stairs.

"Apologies for the interruption," I said loudly, stepping into view.

Every eye turned toward me.

Ragzlin’s face contorted with fury. "You DARE interrupt the sacred communion?!"

"Yes. As a matter of fact I do. Because, I know where the grove is."

He blinked. The spell paused mid-syllable.

"You do?"

I nodded, slow and steady. "Of course. I’ve seen it. Tall trees, strange light, druids muttering chants about the balance of life."

He narrowed his eyes. "Speak."

So I did. I spoke about the grove—every detail I could recall. Geography. Defenses. The location of their gate, their alleged most **** hour. I laced in some truths, added a few well-brewed lies, and painted it all with the silver brush of my meta memory.

I talked. And I talked.

Swamp hag politics. Druidic rites. Underground bug extermination. Ogre cuisine. A brief comparison between goblins and redcaps.

By the time I wrapped up my verbal tapestry, the girls had casually descended behind me.

Karlach looked like she’d run a marathon. Sweat slicked her hair to her forehead, chest heaving.

Lae’zel was a half-step behind, the workout luckily not having impacted her new "attributes".

Shadowheart followed without a word, the pride in her steady steps said enough—her magic had held, and the plan had worked.

I smiled at Ragzlin. "...And I’ve already told the Drow about it."

That did it.

"WHAT?!" he barked. "Why didn’t you say so?!"

"I was getting to it," I said, as innocently as I could manage.

He turned to his entourage. "We can't let her wait! Move!"

They scrambled past us, rushing out through the double doors. The ritual was forgotten. The dead mind flayer left alone.

We waited until their footsteps faded, then turned to each other.

Karlach grinned, wiped sweat from her brow. "We hit the jackpot! Gold. Jewelry. Magic boots that make you run faster—if you’re already running. And this weird piece of metal that’s hot as hell."

I didn’t need to inspect it. I knew what it was.

Infernal metal.

I nodded, "Job well done. Now let’s get out of here."

We vanished into the hallways before any guards came stumbling by to find the mangled door and empty treasure chests.