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Lall:
Waking up on an illithid ship is no more pleasant than it had been the first time. But that this second run-through is already matching so close to the one she’s lived through is a relief. Lall has a lot to do and even more to protect.
She climbs out of her pod and observes a copy of the room she had woken up in months ago. She avoids the pool this time instead heading straight to exit through the sphincter. Lall rushes down to the clammy tunnel, pausing only to free Us.
No Lae’zel greets her on the path outside and for the first time since she made this deal, Lall is afraid. What if the expectation is that she does this completely alone?
But that can’t be it? Can it? The Emperor has to be with her or she wouldn’t have her own mind. And he would definitely have other potential recruits in case she didn’t work out. He at least doesn’t know what the future holds.
She rounds the corner into the room with the large central control panel where Shadowhearts’ pod sat and still sits. Shadowheart shouting to be let out echoes in Lall’s head. It’s almost like she can still hear her.
“I demand to be released.”
In the pod is a different familiar face. Lall smiles to herself.
Wyll & Karlach:
“We’re near the goblin fight place,” Lall utters suddenly and jerks her head back and forth, apparently looking for something.
“Goblin fight place.” Rolan mutters to himself. “How eloquent.”
Lall grasps the front of his robe and pulls him forward with her, away from their small group. Like a hound on the trail of a scent, she follows a path only she can see and Rolan is unfortunately along for the ride. The most he can do is wave off the others from following wherever their self-appointed leader is dragging him.
Snatches of the sounds of battle float through the trees. Metal on metal, harsh cries and the distinct sound of someone yelling “Forever dauntless!” Lall speeds up into a run, forcing Rolan to run too or be dragged along the forest floor.
As they round the top of a hill, he can see the fight. The goblins Lall had mentioned were there in front of a large gate strewn with plant life. At the top of the gate were tieflings firing arrows. Rolan recognises them, in particular the hellrider leading them. Cal and Lia were nearby, if not on the other side of that gate.
Lall’s grip on his robe is so tight he’s afraid she’ll tear the fabric, staring at a tiefling and a human fighting side by side. He had expected that she would launch herself into the fight as she had with every one previous but instead she’s spellbound by… something.
“Shouldn’t we join in?” Rolan asks, attempting to fill his voice with effortless confidence as he readies magic missile.
As a sorcerer and bard, Rolan and Lall had quite sensibly fought from a distance. However, the second the last goblin falls Lall runs out onto the battlefield.
“You! You’re…” Lall starts and stops looking every bit the picture of an awestruck fan.
The human acknowledges her with a genteel bow of the head.
“The Blade of Frontiers!”
“And the Hammer of the Gate!” The tiefling adds while hefting her warhammer up into the air.
“Amazing!” Lall says passionately while Rolan feels and probably looks distinctly more unimpressed. All he cares about is getting past that gate, into the structure behind it and trying to find his siblings. “It’s good to meet you! It’s so good to meet you.”
The fighter and barbarian exchange amused glances,
“Have you heard the songs?” The Blade of Frontiers asks.
Lall turns to Rolan, eyes sparkling, as if he had some hitherto unrevealed knowledge of the songs of Faerun.
“You’re the bard!” he replies defensively to her unvoiced question.
“I’m Karlach,” laughs the tiefling, holding out a hand for Lall to shake. “And that’s Wyll.”
“My name’s Lall, and this is my… um… friend, Rolan.”
Before Rolan can cast any aspersions on the “friendship” between him and Lall, the gate begins to open. Rolan hurries towards it, desperate to find Lia and Cal.
“Hey,” he can still hear Lall’s soft vice behind him. “Would you be interested in helping to take down some goblins?”
Lae’zel:
All in all Wyll is glad that he and Karlach joined Lall’s merry band of illithid renegades. Every now and then Lall would have some strange, inexplicable moment of emotion or action but nothing matters compared to the amount of good that they’re doing.
Wyll knows without a doubt that they never would have defeated the goblins or stopped the shadow druids without her leadership. He and Karlach had insisted on staying after helping defend the grove. It would only be right to stand by the others as they quested to cure themselves.
Lall seems to plan down to the detail, always knowing where and when to move and act. Even the latest surprise, a group of githyanki sneaking up on their camp in the night, didn’t concern her. She’d woken Wyll up earlier and asked him to keep watch with her, something she’d never done before.
“I am Kith’rak Voss.” Wyll belatedly recognises him as the leader of the githyanki they’d seen near the bridge.
Instead of replying to the greeting from the group’s leader, Lall’s eyes are transfixed on a figure behind Kith’rak Voss. She’s watching a young githyanki woman with brown hair standing behind him. Voss catches her gaze and turns to look, the young githyanki bares her teeth and scoffs at Lall.
“Lae’zel, a protege of mine.”
“Protege.” Lall repeats.
“Are the githyanki here to kill us?” Karlach asks sleepily, half heartedly attempting to get up out of her bedroll.
“I’ve not come to kill you,” Kith’rak Voss replies, although Wyll can’t help but view such a declaration with suspicion. “I’ve come to aid you.”
“Oh. Good.” Karlach rolls over and resumes sleeping.
Kith’rak Voss shifts his sword into his hands and kneels down before them. The naked blade lays down in the grass in front of him. Wyll turns to Lall for direction and sees that she’s rallied now - no longer staring at Lae’zel - she too focuses on Kith’rak Voss. Wyll recognises this expression: her brows pinched in thought, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her clothing, Lall is planning.
“What manner of aid?”
“I know you carry the Astral Prism, inside it lays the seeds of Vlaakith’s demise. And I intend to bring it to fruition.”
“You know who’s inside?”
“If they have not said, I will not reveal it but they have chosen you as an ally.”
Wyll suspects that Lall knows more about the artefact - the Astral Prism - than she reveals to Voss. Than she reveals to their little group. Although Voss also doesn’t want to share too much information with Lall. It is almost like a dance, Lall and Voss each sharing only as much as they dare and deferring to their partner. Side stepping any questions that they didn’t wish to answer with a question of their own.
“Keep the Astral Prism close. Let no one take it from you. Slay any who try.”
There’s an odd expression on Lall’s face as the githyanki walk away. As open and friendly as she acts, Wyll can’t help but feel there’s something she’s holding back. Some untold story to share. It’s an expression he’d caught when she looked at Karlach or himself thinking they couldn't see.
Loss, perhaps.
Gale:
Lall isn’t particularly pleased to be in Sorcerous Sundries. Especially since they’re going to be killing Lorroakan later anyway. But Rolan doesn’t know that yet, still clinging to dreams of being trained by that hack when all this is over.
“Just tell him you need some time off to save the world.”
“Lorroakan is a renowned wizard, he deserves a proper explanation. And if I am to preserve my apprenticeship I must give one.”
Lall sighs, deliberately loudly, while Rolan heads over to the main counter. Lorroakan’s projection stands there smiling blandly while it waits for customers. She remembers the first time she had walked into the shop and seen Rolan’s black eye and bruises. That wouldn’t be happening this time at least.
With the exception of a bruised Rolan, Sorcerous Sundries is just the same as before. Customers looking for bargains and magical creatures and devices roaming around the one large circular room. A group of wizards catch her eye, they seem to be walking away from Tolna’s counter. No doubt they’d been buying some wizardly tomes. Lall smiles thinking of a wizard she knew a lifetime ago. No doubt he is in his beloved Waterdeep, arguing some obscure point of spell casting with his peers. She could almost imagine him here in Sorcerous Sundries, purchasing the necessities and plotting to sneak into the vault. Except… that is him, in that group of wizards. That is Gale.
“GALE?”
Gale of Waterdeep, still presumably a wizard of considerable acclaim and a scholar of exceptional accomplishment, seems surprised and deeply uncomfortable to have a complete stranger shout his name. “I’m sorry but are we… acquainted?”
“What? No. Shit. I’ve fucked it up already!” Lall quickly gives in to the panic that meeting her old companions seems to inspire in her. “Nevermind!”
“Wait-” Gale’s concern only seems to increase at the dismay of his previously unknown acquaintance.
She turns tail and rushes over to Rolan who is arguing with the projection of Lorroakan.
“I have the letter here, if you could just allow me speak to-”
“Rolan we have to go, right now. Right now.”
Lall could still feel the group of wizards watching her. What was the proper name for a group of wizards? A council of wizards? An argument of wizards? She felt like having an argument with one wizard right now.
“Not yet, I need to-”
“Listen, there is now a group of wizards who think I am a nutcase. We need to get moving.” Lall grabs Rolan’s sleeve. “WE KNOW WHERE THE NIGHTSONG IS!”
The projection flickers slightly. “Please proceed upstairs for further instruction.”
Lall runs up the stairs two at a time with Rolan behind her. After travelling together for the last few months Rolan is used to her now and automatically keeps pace to avoid being dragged.
“Those were archmages!” Rolan says after daring a quick glance back.
“Cool, was one of them Eliminister?” Lall asks, attempting to sound laid back and chill as she rapidly climbs a staircase.
“What? No? He’s a sage not an archmage. Why?”
“I only know 3 wizards, you, Gale and Elminister.”
“You know Elminister, chosen of Mystra, Sage of Shadowdale?” His tone makes clear that he thinks her lies are beyond believability.
“Yeah, he showed up, told Gale to kill himself, ate an entire cheese wheel and left.”
“You’re lying.” Rolan turns towards the mirror image of his future master to try and get through to Lorroakan’s real self.
Lall follows closely behind him. “Ok, it wasn’t the entire cheese wheel - that was an exaggeration. But all the other stuff is completely true.”
Astarion:
“You’re not going to ask this one to help us either?” comes Rolan’s unimpressed voice from down below.
“He’s earned a lifetime of taking it easy, ok? Also he’s not really the saving the world type. Now will you stop moving?” Lall replies as she tries to peer through the window.
He rolls his eyes in reply, knowing she can’t see him but still feeling better for it. Wizards aren’t known for their strength and despite Rolan’s best efforts to keep Lall steady there is a distinct sway to his movements. He wishes she would hurry up before more people could walk past and witness him supporting the feet of an apparent voyeur.
Wyll had been - as he often is - a life saver. When Lall explained she needed the address of Asatrion Acunin he had been able to find it without issue.
“Can’t we just knock on the door? Have a normal conversation instead of peeping in the elf’s window like a pair of maniacs?”
“If I have a conversation with Astarion and he is happy and at peace with himself I will start crying. And I know neither of us want that.”
This, Rolan reflects, is extremely true. He never knew what to do when someone started crying and if Lall started crying he would know even less.
Astarion Acunin, magistrate of Baldur’s Gate, is at home. Lall can see him reclining on a chaise longue.
“He looks good.”
“Figuratively or literally?”
“Both. He seems so much more relaxed than when we travelled together. Well, he doesn’t have a tadpole in his head so I guess that makes sense but- shit-”
Rolan can feel the tension in her body. She goes still; which makes it much easier to support her weight but is still extremely concerning.
“What is happening up there?”
“He saw me, I’ve got to-”
“And who would you be, darling? Don’t tell me you're the knocker-upper?” asks Astarion, opening his window.
Lall sways and bends to avoid it in a move that almost sends her and Rolan toppling to the ground. Instead the pair recover and Rolan utters a few colourful swears.
The sunlight, as hazy and even as sickly as the sunlight can get in the lower city, plays across Astarion's face and it’s this that does Lall in. Before she can suppress it, a shuddering gasp leaves her throat. That horrible feeling of being cramped up in her nose begins and she can feel a distinct growing pressure at the corners of her eyes.
“Astarion…”
Astarion's face changes from an intrigued smile to a bewildered expression, then finally to looking deeply uncomfortable. He closes the window and then pulls the curtains shut too for good measure. Many years later, he sees a drow in passing that looks similar to the one crying at his window. He remembers this moment and wonders what the fuck that was all about.
The wobble caused by the sobbing Lall avoiding the window is the end of their acrobatics, Rolan’s 8 strength is completely used up. The pair topple to the ground relatively unharmed aside from the damage to their clothes by the unpleasant Balduran street.
“He was in the sunlight. He looked so calm and happy,” sobs Lall, pressing her teary face into the front of Rolan’s robes.
“You weren’t joking about the crying.” Rolan observes dryly but still gives Lall an awkward pat on the back.
Jenevelle:
Lall stops at the Stormshore Tabernacle every time they walk by it. Every time. Karlach would be getting sick of it but frankly she's the leader. There’s probably a reason or something.
Normally Lall just sticks her head in and out, and yells, “We’re good!” Today, she didn’t. Since it’s only her and Karlach, Karlach pops her head in too.
“What are we looking for, soldier?”
“The cleric. Of Selune.”
Lall’s watching this cleric like she’s never seen one before in her life. The cleric is pretty cute, Karlach has to admit but otherwise looks like every cleric of Selune she’s seen. Right down to the white hair.
“Should we talk to her?”
“Oh,” Lall looks at Karlach like it hasn’t even occurred to her. “I guess we should.”
Karlach strides happily up to the cleric, standing in front of the statue of her goddess. “Nice to meet you, I’m Karlach. So you’re a cleric, huh?”
The cleric looks startled when Karlach talks to her and she feels a little guilty.
“My name is Jenevelle. Yes, my parents are followers of Selune and encouraged me to follow her path of light.”
“Are.” Lall parrots, still looking starstruck by this random cleric. Maybe she’s never met a cleric of Selune? No wait, they met Isobel.
“Yes,” Jenevelle frowns. “Do we know each other?”
“No, I just… um… wanted to ask you something. Could I… have your blessing?”
Jenevelle’s concerned expression melts away. She seems happier now that they’ve asked a clericy favour from her.
“Of course.”
Jenevelle stretches up her hand and it glows with Selunite magic. With a practised ease she lowers it, palm out, facing Karlach and Lall. There’s a brief flash of white light and the pair glow. The air around them sparkles like some thrill-seeker decided to set off fireworks in this luckily fireproof house of worship.
Karlach hadn’t been feeling particularly bad before but now she feels fantastic. She could even face off with the netherbrain itself.
“How do you feel?”
“I feel wonderful. Blessed.” Lall replies and if she didn’t look so damned earnest Karlach would have thought she’s cracking a joke. Lall continues to watch Jenevelle. “Do you come here often?”
Jenevelle looks downright baffled by this question.
“When I can?” She answers hesitantly.
“So we might see each other again. Thanks Jenevelle.”
Karlach gives the confused Jenevelle a merry wink and a wave before following Lall who’s already walking out of the tabernacle. The drow’s face is pinched and unhappy. Karlach can’t fathom why after she got her blessing from the cleric she’d been so interested in. Lall is sometimes very hard to understand. Instead Karlach settles for what she hopes is a companionable silence as they stroll through the lower city.
They walk in this probably companionable silence for a few minutes before Lall speaks up. “Karlach?”
“Yes, soldier?”
“I’m really glad you’re here. Thank you for… for being my friend.”
Karlach’s not sure how to react, she definitely considers Lall a friend but hadn’t really thought of her as the sentimental type. Her first thought is to make a joke about that very point but there’s something in her voice. The way she said it.
“I’m glad to be your friend too.”
Once More With Feeling:
Their group of adventurers stand on the docks, watching the last remnants of the illithids grand design fall into the Chionthar.
“We did it. We survived.” Rolan sounds as though he still doesn’t believe it.
“Yes!” shouts Karlach. “We made it!
Lall’s eyes are teary as she watches Karlach. “All of us. We’re all alive and happy.”
Karlach snatches the nearest person up for a big bearhug. The nearest person happens to be Rolan and if he enjoys it, he’s careful to not let it show on his face.
“Are you hurt?” Wyll asks, startled by Lall’s tears.
“I’m just glad that we’re all here. And that we’re all together.”
“Yeah, let’s go to the tavern! We have a lot to celebrate.”
“We’re going together. We’re not splitting-” Lall manages to get out before completely dissolving into tears.
“Maybe we’d better go to the tower”, Wyll suggests as touches Lall’s elbow, softly and reassuringly.
“No, let’s all go to the tavern. It’ll be a good ending. To our quest. I’ll write a song about it. About the way it was and the way it could have been.”
“Could’ve been?” Karlach repeats incredulously.
“Yeah,” Lall flashes a brilliant smile despite the tears still falling down her face. “I’ll tell you all about it.”