Waukeen's Rest

Directly north from us was another fight waiting. Several gnolls, a pack of hyenas, and even a mid-level chieftain. A much tougher encounter, and not at all worth the risk for the off-putting loot. A powerful club—capable of great devastation—but cursed to occasionally drive its wielder into a blind frenzy, lashing out at friend and foe alike. The idea of Karlach, mid-rage and out of control, turning that thing on one of us? No thank you.

I decided not to press forward towards the rest of the gnolls.

"I think that's all for us in this direction," I muttered mostly to myself

We turned away from the wreckage and made a direct line east. The wind shifted as we left the cracked caravan trail. Behind us, the memory of the gnoll ambush still hung in the air. Ahead, The trees thinned and the road started to be paved.

Lae'zel walked point, her jaw tight. She hadn’t said much since the battle—too annoyed that I’d taken three arrows and she hadn’t managed to intercept them. Karlach followed with her usual lumbering gait, still occasionally brushing dried blood off her straps. Shadowheart walked nearest to me, glancing down at my leg more often than was necessary.

After an hour of steady travel along the winding trail, the smell of woodsmoke thickened in the air. We rounded a bend and the sight struck us—Waukeen's Rest, once a lively inn and respite for weary travelers, now stood engulfed in flames. Its timbered walls glowed a dull orange beneath curling waves of smoke.

As we approached, the full scene unfolded. Goblin corpses lay scattered in grotesque heaps alongside fallen Flaming Fist soldiers, their uniforms charred and crimson. The fire was still very much alive, crackling with menace as it licked through broken windows. The main door had been scorched nearly black, and overhead, the roof moaned and sagged beneath the weight of fire, threatening collapse.

Five surviving guards stood clustered at the front doors, shoving at the warped wood, ****.

“She’s still in there!” one yelled.

I glanced at Karlach. "Give them a hand, will you?"

She cracked her neck. "Finally. Something I can kick without it biting back."

Karlach stormed forward and delivered a savage kick to the doors. With a thunderous crack, the wood shattered, sending shards and splinters bursting inward. The guards surged in after, scattering in all directions with frantic urgency, calling out for their missing commander.

I hated this part—a frustrating search event with a countdown and a painfully long waiting time. The fastest route and location seared into my brain. No need for company.

"Just a moment," I said to the girls.

Shadowheart opened her mouth, probably to argue, but I was already moving.

The smoke stung, but I pushed through. Up the stairs, past the collapsed railing, toward the final door on the left. With a flick of my hand, a blast of eldritch power surged into the wood, shattering the lock, the door and the frame.

Out tumbled a suntanned elven woman proud and confused. Their Commander.

She halted abruptly, eyes narrowing at the sight of me. "You’re not my men..." The fire snapped behind her. She waved the thought away. "Never mind. We need to move. Now!"

"This way," I said, already turning.

Without hesitation, she followed, sprinting past and thundering down the stairs passing me.

We burst back into the daylight. Lae'zel, Karlach, and Shadowheart were waiting, arms crossed. They saw me with the commander and shared a glance. Karlach outright snorted.

The commander paused to catch her breath, then gave me a crisp nod. "I owe you. And I repay debts. Choose one."

She gestured to the weapons carried by one of the guards: a beautiful silver-banded longbow that shimmered with electric tension; a trident etched with glowing runes, each spike humming with storm-kissed malice; and a humble staff—save for the faint arcs of electricity dancing along its length.

"Each strike with these weapons stores a trace of lightning—building charge with every successful hit. On the fourth impact, the stored energy discharges in a crackling lightning blast."

Lae'zel tilted her head toward the bow, eyes wide in appreciation. "Superb craftsmanship. Ideal for range."

Shadowheart eyed the trident with a faint smirk. "That's got style—and reach."

I reached for the staff. "This one."

Shadowheart rolled her eyes. "Why would you want the stick?"

"It works with magic. Two hits? Two sparks. Fourth hit? Lightning strike. It stacks with my bolts."

Lae'zel nodded slowly. "Efficient"

Karlach whistled. "Okay, that’s pretty damn cool."

[Item Equipped: "The Spellsparkler"]

I looked down at the staff and smirked. With my gloves, the empowered blasts, and now this storm-infused staff, I could almost feel the synergy. Now I would be able to dish out some real punishment, even if I still was kind of fragile.

The commander gave a sharp salute. “We are out looking for Duke Ravenguard of Baldur's Gate. He has been kidnapped and we, the soldiers of the Flaming First, are tasked with finding him, we could use any help, do you swear to join our sear—"

"Yeah yeah, We'll keep our eyes out. Anyways, thanks for the weapon, we will be on our way now." I hastily replied.

"Yes, of course, should you survive your journey then come find me in Baldur's Gate."

She turned on her heel and departed without ceremony. Karlach wore an unreadable expression as she watched the soldiers leave.

"You know, they looked like they could have used some help finding that Duke."

"They’ll manage" I said. "We’ve got goblins to handle."

Shadowheart nodded. "Not our problem."

[Shadowheart: Approval +1]

Lae’zel grunted. "A waste of time."

[Lae'zel: Approval +1]

Karlach looked between them and smirked faintly. "..yeah.. Besides, all the nobles in Baldur’s Gate are corrupt anyway."

[Karlach: Corruption +1]

I glanced at her. That was… not how she used to sound. More pragmatic, less idealistic.

Progress!