You make camp for the night

The sun dips below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple. You decide to make camp in a sheltered grove, the crackling fire casting a warm glow over the makeshift tents. Each of your companions retreats to their own space, leaving you to wander the camp and check in with them.

Shadowheart’s Tent

Shadowheart’s tent is modest but orderly, with a small shrine to Shar set up in the corner. The dark goddess’s symbol glints in the firelight, and Shadowheart kneels before it, her eyes closed in silent prayer.

You clear your throat, and she looks up, her expression guarded. “Can I help you?”

You sit across from her, your tone gentle. “Just wanted to see how you’re holding up. You’ve been quiet since we left the crypt.”

She sighs, her fingers brushing the artifact in her pack. “It’s… complicated. This artifact—it’s more than just a trinket. It’s tied to my past. My purpose.”

“Care to elaborate?”

She hesitates, then shakes her head. “Not yet. Let’s just say I have obligations. To my goddess. To my cloister. And now, to this… *thing*.”

You nod, respecting her boundaries. “Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out. Together.”

Her lips curve into a faint smile. “You’re surprisingly optimistic for someone with a mind flayer tadpole in their head.”

“Someone’s got to be,” you reply, grinning.

She chuckles softly. “Get some rest. Tomorrow won’t be any easier.”

Lae’zels Tent

Lae’zel’s tent is sparse, reflecting her no-nonsense attitude. She sits cross-legged, sharpening her sword with meticulous precision. Her golden eyes flick up as you approach.

“What do you want?” she asks, her tone clipped.

You sit across from her, unfazed. “Just checking in. You’ve been quiet too.”

She scoffs. “Silence is a warrior’s ally. Unlike some, I do not feel the need to fill the air with pointless chatter.”

“Fair enough,” you say, leaning back. “But even warriors need to rest. What’s on your mind?”

She pauses, her blade stilling. “This… *delay* frustrates me. Every moment we waste is another step closer to ceremorphosis. My people would have already found a creche and purged the parasite.”

“Your people aren’t here,” you point out. “We are. And we’ll get through this.”

Her gaze softens, just a fraction. “You are… persistent. I will grant you that.”

You smirk. “And you’re not as tough as you pretend to be.”

Her eyes narrow, but there’s a flicker of amusement. “Do not mistake my tolerance for weakness, istik.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you reply, standing. “Get some rest, Lae’zel. We’ll need you at your best tomorrow.”

Karlach’s Tent

Karlach’s tent is a chaotic mess of weapons, armor, and random trinkets. She’s lounging on a pile of furs, her greataxe propped against the tent pole. When you enter, she grins and pats the space beside her.

“Hey, soldier! Come to keep me company?”

You sit down, laughing. “Someone’s got to make sure you don’t burn the camp down.”

“Ha! Fair point,” she says, tossing you a flask. “Here. You look like you need a drink.”

You take a swig, the liquid burning your throat. “What’s your story, Karlach? How’d you end up here?”

Her grin falters, and she looks into the fire. “Long story short? I was a soldier. Fought in a lot of battles, made a lot of enemies. When the mind flayers took me, I thought it was the end. But now… I’ve got a second chance. And I’m not wasting it.”

“Sounds like you’ve been through a lot,” you say, handing the flask back.

“Yeah, well, life’s a fight,” she replies, her tone lighter. “But I’ve got my axe, my wits, and now… this ragtag bunch. Could be worse.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Ragtag? I’m hurt.”

She laughs, the sound warm and genuine. “You’re all right, soldier. Just don’t let Lae’zel hear me say that.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” you promise, standing. “Get some rest. Tomorrow’s another day for smashing cultists.”

“Can’t wait,” she says, her grin returning. “Night, soldier.”

The Campfire

As you return to the fire, the weight of the day settles over you. Each of your companions carries their own burdens, their own secrets. But for now, the camp is quiet, the fire crackling softly under the stars.

You sit by the flames, staring into the embers. The road ahead is uncertain, but one thing is clear: you’re not alone.

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