Camp Upgrades

Outside, the sky had shifted while we worked. The light filtering into the cave mouth had softened, shadows stretching long across the dirt as evening crept closer.

“We’re not pushing farther tonight,” I said. “Let's rest here.”

Conveniently—or perhaps faithfully—there was an old, unlit campfire set against the wall, stones arranged neatly as if someone had planned for it. I knelt and coaxed it to life with a spark. Flames caught, small at first, then steady and warm.

The familiar sensation followed immediately.

The world folded, stretched, and reassembled itself around us as the camp settled into place. Tents appeared, packs shifted, and with a soft sense of inevitability, the others joined us.

Wyll and Dammon simply manifested there—caught mid‑conversation as if the world had shifted around them rather than the other way around. Wyll was in the middle of a sentence, one hand lifted in an expressive gesture, while Dammon nodded along, arms crossed loosely as he listened. Nearby, Dammon’s tent had already taken shape, complete with a small rack displaying armor pieces and weapons arranged with the care of a traveling smith setting up shop. Withers stood a short distance away, motionless and inscrutable, as though he had been waiting all along and only now decided to participate in existence.

I blinked—and then blinked again.

Where my bedroll had once been, there now stood a generously sized tent. Canvas stretched wide and taut, supported by sturdy poles driven cleanly into the ground, its entrance held open as if deliberately inviting inspection.

“Well,” I said slowly, “that’s new.”

Dammon cleared his throat and smiled at me, a little sheepish but genuine. "I’m glad Shadowheart asked me to come," he said. "And when I heard it was to help save Karlach… well, I couldn’t very well refuse." He trails off, rubbing the back of his neck as his eyes flick—just briefly—toward Karlach before returning to me. “Truth be told, I’m happy to be joining you on the road—getting away from the Grove feels right. Parties aren’t really my thing, I’d rather hear a hammer ring than shout over music and... other noises.” His cheeks colored faintly. “Uhm.. some of the tieflings didn’t need their tents anymore,” he explained. “Modesty’s… not exactly a priority to them.” He hesitated, then added, “Thought you might make better use of it.”

I laughed. “You thought right.”

Kagha stepped forward immediately, eyes alight. “May I?” she asked, already ducking inside. Through the tent opening I could see her already sorting through spare cloth and dried herbs, her expression focused as she started to arrange the interior with utmost care.

Karlach grinned. “Look at that. Moving up in the world, huh boss?”

Shadowheart tilted her head, eyes flicking from the tent to Kagha with a knowing look. “Let me guess,” she said lightly, “she’s already moved in? Typical.”

Lae’zel snorted softly, casting me a sideways glance. “If you require a bodyguard,” she said flatly, “I am far better suited than a druid.”

“Former druid,” I corrected mildly. “She’ll do just fine. I’ll still come visit, of course—but this beats sleeping under the open sky for sure.”

Shadowheart, Lae’zel, and Karlach all tilted their heads in unison, glancing up at the solid stone ceiling of the cave, then back at me.

“You know what I mean,” I added, smirking. “I appreciate some privacy, at the very least. How would you feel if I started performing the rituals out in the open?”

“I relinquish my point,” Lae’zel answered without hesitation.

“Please don’t..” Shadowheart added, her tone earnest.

“Yes! When? Tonight?” Karlach said with shameless delight.

I couldn’t help but laugh.

Dammon blinked. “Rituals?” he asked carefully. “What kind of rituals?”

Before I could answer, Wyll stepped in, placing a reassuring hand on Dammon’s shoulder and giving a slow, deliberate shake of his head. “Strange magic,” he said gently. “Keeps us alive. That's all we can say.”

Dammon studied the group in silence—Lae’zel unconsciously licking her lips, Karlach wearing a cheeky grin, Shadowheart looking oddly dreamy, Wyll solemn, and me doing my best not to grin outright.

After a moment, he nodded once. “I understand,” he said quietly. “Not every question needs answers.”

We all nodded in quiet agreement, the moment settling between us like a shared understanding.

The fire crackled softly as night settled fully outside the cave. The tension of the day began to ebb, replaced by the simple comfort of warmth, safety, and the quiet satisfaction of a long day finally done, well, almost done.

I excused myself from the group, offering a few final words of small talk before slipping away toward a quieter corner of the camp. Once alone, I drew a slow breath, steadied my thoughts, and reached inward—calling upon my patron.

"Graz’zt"

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