The Risen Road

When I returned to camp, the tension that had once hung heavy between Shadowheart and Lae’zel had simmered down, replaced now by a cool indifference. They exchanged few words, but the barbs were gone—for now.

Karlach, bright as ever, cracked jokes and stretched beside the fire, her energy keeping the morning from falling too quiet. Her grin was infectious, and even Wyll, brooding with his arms crossed and new horns glinting in the sunlight, gave a tired smirk now and then. His infernal punishment still weighed on him.

I gathered everyone. "We’ve got a few days before the goblins attack the Grove. That means we need gear, weaponry, anything that can give us an advantage."

Karlach leaned back on her palms and squinted at the tall, dusty boots lying nearby. "So, these make you sprint a little faster... but only if you're already running full tilt," she said, nudging one with her foot. "And look at them—way too much leather and not nearly enough tease."

Lae’zel snorted. "They are for cowards who flee from battle."

Shadowheart folded her arms and gave a slight shrug. "They don’t match my garments. And they’re hideous."

I glanced at the boots again, then nodded. "So that’s a hard pass from everyone. Noted."

This wouldn't do. We needed more—more weapons, more armor, more anything and my ever-generous patron hadn’t bestowed a single usable item on me. Not one. So, I had to improvise. I knew of a place where we might get some worthwhile gear, maybe even some kills on the way. A detour with promise, danger, and most importantly, loot.

As I was about the get ready to head out, Wyll stepped up beside me, scratching at the base of one of his new horns. "Want me on this one?"

I gave him a look, weighing the question for only a moment. "No need, Wyll. You've done an amazing job at keeping the camp safe so far. Best to keep it that way."

He gave a short chuckle, though the edges of it were tired. "Third day in a row, eh? Starting to feel like the camp cook. Alright, Commander. You know where to find me."

We left camp, curving away from the road we’d arrived by when helping Karlach with her Paladin-problems, and instead heading Northeast. The stone road stretched ahead of us, crumbling beneath our boots. The rocky path wound into narrow highlands, where the trees gave way to jagged cliffs and stone. Faded trade markers were still visible along the road. Unlike the Blighted Village, which felt desolate and forgotten, this area felt recently abandoned. There was a stillness to it, the kind that came right after a storm.

As we climbed, the scent of iron and **** hit us. Sharp. Fresh. A few steps more and we saw it: a caravan, wrecked and overturned. Wooden carts shattered against the cobblestone, crates scattered and broken open. Blood smeared the ground. Gore splattered the stones. Horses lay gutted, eyes still wide in terror. Flies buzzed. The remnants of merchants were half-hidden beneath cloth and splinters.

Then came the sound—wet, breathy laughter. Cackling. A chorus of snarls, eager and broken. From behind the wreckage, six hyenas slunk into view. Their jaws were red, their eyes wild, their bodies twitching with some unnatural energy.

Two of the beasts shrieked suddenly. Their backs arched, bones cracking with grotesque ****. Limbs elongated, muscles snapped taut, and their forms surged into something far more horrifying. Hyenas no longer—Gnolls. Tall, savage, and starving.

Karlach had her axe ready immediately. "Finally, some action."

"..Disgusting.." Shadowheart muttered. Her fingers already flexing with magic.

Lae’zel unsheathed her blade in a smooth motion. "T'chk, such lowly beasts are unworthy of my blade.."

I remembered this ambush vividly—one of those frustrating segments I’d replayed again and again. When handled poorly, it spiraled out of control fast. These gnolls were no joke. And we had lost the element of surprise already.

"Girls!" I barked, my hands already sparking with arcane power. "Karlach, Lae’zel—take the gnolls! Shadowheart, torch those hyenas before they finish changing! Don't let a single one of them get away!"

Karlach was already in motion, axe raised, face with wild glee. Lae’zel moved like an arrow in flight, blade slicing in swift, brutal arcs.

Shadowheart muttered under her breath, channeling a precise flick of flame toward one of the writhing hyenas. The firebolt hit mid-transformation, halting the creature’s grotesque shift with a shriek as it collapsed, limbs spasming in **** throes.

I extended my hands and loosed two agonizing blasts of eldritch energy, the air cracked with a sharp and menacing whine as they tore through the air, louder and heavier than before, each hit carrying the **** of my presence behind it.

The first bolt went into the side of one before it could shift, dropping the creature to the ground with a lusty whine. The second bolt hit the neck of another, knocking it **** without any uncomfortable sounds. The power in my fingers crackled—raw, vicious, and alive. I send a split second thanks to Graz’zt.

Before we could finish them off, one of the beasts—still locked in its original form—let out a long, piercing howl and bolted towards the brush. Shadowheart let loose a final firebolt, but the shot missed far and wide, exploding harmlessly against a rock. "Oh for the love of Shar!” she snapped.

Karlach stood over her felled gnoll, chest heaving, blood painting her cheek. Her grin had vanished, replaced by something somber. Lae'zel, too, wiped her blade clean in deliberate silence, staring off toward the brush after the hyena, indifferent to the gnoll carcass in front of her.

For a heartbeat, the world held its breath—no snarls, no flickers of flame, only a tense, bristling silence.

I stepped toward the ridge, eyes narrowing as I tracked where the fleeing creature had vanished into the scrub. A heartbeat later, the hills trembled with a rising chorus of howls—an entire pack, frenzied and echoing.

"Here they come,"