OathMaker

Draw near to your destruction [IAmAugustReigns/Oathmaker]

A jolt of malicious intent came from the Drow's eyes followed by a cynical question about the potentiality of set up; again, fair. He was exhibiting extremely suspicious behavior and as someone who dealt with suspicious characters quite regularly (see Waterdeep's latest report of a massive heist), he was thankfully more than prepared to deal with a healthy dose of "Are you trying to pull one on me?"

"First, if you look at my immediate surroundings, you'll note that I have no 'friends' with me nor do I intend to accompany the various adventurers that met earlier today with Flaming Fist Commander Lark had briefed (along with me) about dealing with the cultists. Nay, I prefer to do my work alone or with a small group of individuals who have agendas that coincide with one another." He chuckled slightly.
"I assumed, unhealthily perhaps, that based on the weapons that dangle from your waist and the purposeful shrouding of your appearance that you might fulfill my criteria for someone who might be interested in a bit of adventuring that could fund your other ventures or, like myself, desire to find some trinkets left behind from our would-be Illithid conquerors." Boy was he feeling pedantic today.
"I'll also reveal that my desire to have a working partnership with someone as dangerous as yourself is rooted in a touch of self-preservation. As a wizard, I may have options to protect myself, but I'm expecting quite a bit of resistance, so much so that I won't be able to survive comfortably without some assistance." His eyes darkened.
"There are whispers of who's signed up to these cults: Sharrans, Necromancers, Bane worshippers and a host of others that, if left unchecked, could make all of our lives a living nightmare." Cailyn locked eyes with the Drow.
"If you're looking to shed blood, make some coin and delve deeper into secrets beyond your comprehension, I would suggest you consider joining me." The last bit of his final offer was tipping his hand far too much for his liking, but the longer he had talked, the more a chill had gripped his heart; if he was reading his patron's signs correctly, the Architect was telling him that there was indeed far more at stake than met the eye and that the Drow, despite the initial objections, could play a part in facilitating the long-term goals that the being had.

That or the Architect was just annoyed at Cailyn's insistence on talking to the woman.

In either case, he wondered how she would respond to his offer, seeing as she could just as easily laugh and walk away. No matter if she did; at least the offer was on the table and if he was reading her character properly, they might ultimately cross paths in the Undercity and Cailyn would have the opportunity to see her in action and recruit her after all.

Tears of the moon [Skygirl/Oathmaker]

When he asked Shadowheart to search Sef, he hadn't thought of trying to interrogate the Sharran after the departure of the man's soul from his body, but it was a good idea (although it was very, very strange to see his partner turn from her normal beauty to the sharp angularity of Lae'Zel). After the exchange between Shadowheart and Sef's post-mortem form, Nuvyen weighed what his partner said with great care. If Sef's words to be trusted even from the afterlife, they would indeed be casting themselves into a very hungry den of wolves itching to devour them; then again, Nuvyen could only assume that this priest, whoever he was, must be an important part of the Selunite order for the Sharrans to not only detain him, but for Sef to lie in his exchange with Nuvyen about whether or not he was alive. The half-elf had little understanding of what a Selunite priest(or priestess) did outside of the scope of their responsibilities at their sites of worship, but he could only assume that the priest was more than his title.

"I'm not keen on delving back into a Sharran hideout." He grimaced, memories of squaring off against Viconia and her horde of Sharrans in the House of Grief flashing across his mind.
"But this priest has to be important to Isobel, important enough to be waylaid and kept alive." A host of questions threatened to bubble up to the surface of his mind, but he channeled his thoughts to the present, closing his eyes for a brief moment before continuing:
"We won't have time to get any kind of reinforcements, so it'll be just us." He scanned their home, noting that Scratch had gone missing in the ruckus, more than likely galloping towards his owl-bear companion in an attempt to ensure it's safety.
"And it would be unwise of us to charge out into the middle of the night towards this cave. From here to the Gate is about a day and a half's journey, so let's restore this place to a semblance of normalcy, rest as much as we can and head out in the morning." Nuvyen looked past Shadowheart down the hallway and chuckled.
"At least our room didn't get destroyed. That's nice."

----

The rest of the evening was spent digging shallow holes for the corpses to be buried and cleaning up the debris around the house, Nuvyen breathing a sigh of relief when, upon wrapping up the exterior clean-up, saw Scratch and their faithful owl-bear bounding towards their home. Neither animal seemed to be hurt and took their normal posts for sleep, allowing Nuvyen to assist Shadowheart in interior clean up, collapsing into bed as the moon was beginning to fade in the sky. When the monk awoke, the sun's rays were piercing through the window in their room, rudely awakening him from the too-short slumber. He felt for his partner in bed, but found it empty; no doubt she was already at work preparing for their encounter. The monk began his own preparations and was soon ready to depart, satchel slung over his shoulder.
"Scratch and his much larger companion have got enough meat from the cellar that they should be fine for-" He thought Shadowheart was in her library, but the room was empty.
"The time we're gone." Cocking his head slightly, he surveyed the living area and kitchen to no avail. His pulse quickened slightly after the events of the last night.

Where had she gone off to?

Draw near to your destruction [IAmAugustReigns/Oathmaker]

As she approached, the energy that naturally emanated from her presence grew in sweet intensity, a thick mire with hands emerging from it, one motioning for him to experience everything she could give while the other twirled a dagger soaked in blood. The vision came and went nearly instantly, but it was staggering enough that the man was left speechless for a few moments, the whites of his eyes briefly making an appearance before his steely hazel irises returned, finding her across from him just as she broke the colloquial ice with a leading question. Fair enough; he had been the one to get her attention.
"In a way." The same half-smile formed on his face, motioning for her to sit across.
"I wasn't wont to try and cross the tavern only to find that you weren't interested in a conversation, however brief or long it might have been." A flash of a chill crept up his spine. His patron wasn't particularly happy he was talking with the presumed Drow; interesting. An observation to file away.
"I suppose your decision on sitting is dependent on clarifying my purpose. A fair exchange." The man nodded in greeting.
"Cailyn Drae at your service. Baldur's Gate isn't home for me, but I frequent it enough to where I'm comfortable treating it like home, which including doing some housekeeping after unwelcome guests make a gigantic mess." He pointed at the floor with his index finger, a slight ripple of magic inadvertently flickering from the fingertip.
"If you haven't heard, Baldur's Gate was nearly turned into the Illithid capital of the coast and probably the entire multiverse as we know it just a few months ago, yet there are some in the city who think it wise to not only think the creatures were our 'only' chance at grasping true power for all, but now worship them." A derisive guffaw.
"Quite remarkable, really." Cailyn leaned to his right, rifling through a canvas satchel and placing a copy of the missive issued by Duke Ravengard about the cultists.
"Five thousand gold pieces for the removal of Illithid cultists as soon as able. Sealed by the Duke himself." He gave the Drow a once-over now that she was closer, noting the sheen of her daggers and the lithe form that her apparel highlighted in certain areas; this one seemed primed and ready to be a viable companion in his endeavor. The question that rattled around his brain was whether or not she would be receptive to such an offer, especially with the guise of a bumbling wizard potentially being shattered upon using the powers he drew from his patron. He doubted seriously that the woman cared deeply about his patron's aims and motives, but then again, he had been surprised by some of his former companions and their own desires that ultimately clashed with his own. A frown creased his features, shaking some of the unpleasantries of his most recent escapade from his cognition, choosing to focus instead on his gambit. With the emanations she currently was...well, emanating, she would be a great choice for a dangerous romp through the Undercity, but nothing would prevent her from stabbing him in the back and making off with the gold for herself. It would behoove him to incentivize her with something potentially more alluring. Maybe...
"I'm not as interested in the gold. I'm looking for something...specific to add to my list of trinkets and baubles as any wizard is prone to do and that something specific happens to be lodged in a very dark, dank, dangerous part of the Undercity. You, my friend, look able to slice through danger quite well..."

Tears of the moon [Skygirl/Oathmaker]

The immortal sun

Nuvyen threw the front door open and was ready to charge forward when he spotted Shadowheart's lance glowing amidst the chaos of what was once their well-kept home, the glow illuminating not only the wreckage of domesticity, but the last of the Sharran assailants, eyes wide as she began backpedaling towards a plume of murky darkness behind her.

Ohhh no you don't.

Nuvyen summoned a burst of Ki, infusing his feet with the speed he needed to close the distance between he and the Sharran before delivering a crushing elbow to the assassin's solar plexus, then an uppercut, briefly sending the attacker into the air. With his resonance still in high gear, he managed one more attack: a vicious side kick, the Sharran falling to the ground, eyes rolled back into her head. The darkness that once loomed in their home disappeared, leaving he and Shadowheart standing in silence except for their breathing. Nuvyen approached Shadowheart, brushing a few drops of blood off of her forehead as he looked her over.
"Did more damage than took it, eh?" He smiled, relieved that she had made it through yet another attack from those who would drag her back to Shar.
"Might be beneficial to ransack the lot of them and see if they have anything else that can tip us off...but after we talk to Sef a bit more, eh?" Thankfully, Shadowheart seemed to have kept concentration on her Command spell, which meant that Sef was still by the entrance, his eyes wide with alarm at the results of the battle.
"Love, snap him out of the spell, will you? He'll need to talk a bit more freely; besides, I doubt he'll have any real incentive to try and pull another stunt." A pat on the shoulder.
"Isn't that right, Sef?" A few moments later, Sef answered the question, his sensibilities back under his control:
“Yes, fine, fine!” Desperate annoyance edged his voice, indicating what Nuvyen suspected, which was that Sef had entered a lose/lose proposition. If he tried to escape and succeed, Shar would kill him. If he tried to escape and failed, he would die. If he confessed everything, Sharran assassins would come for him. There was really no way for Sef to escape this night alive unless he informed the duo of the scheme he had been involved in and make haste as far from Baldur’s Gate as possible.
“How did you obtain that letter from the High Cleric?”
“We ambushed a priest on the way here. Tailed him from Baldur’s Gate before we made short work of him. Some of us thought we could ambush you lot and avoid this nonsense, but obviously that wouldn’t work…nor did this.” Sef grimaced.
“And why go after the priest in this context? Why not assassinate him in Baldur’s Gate?” Sef shook his head.
“Been to the city lately? Grand Duke Ravengard has us on the run, especially after ‘The Heroes of Baldur’s Gate’ swept us all out of the House of Grief. Hiding in cellars and caves like rats.” A smile formed, one filled with sadism.
“But you’ll see what Our Lady has in store. For you, for all of us. Soon Her embrace will not be a mere part of the Coast, but all across the Realm!” WIth a sudden jerk of Sef’s hand, the Sharran materialized an ebony dagger, which he then plunged into his chest. Nuvyen uttered a curse, vainly lunging for the dagger which disappeared as quickly as it came into existence. The damage had been done, however, Sef’s bleeding corpse just adding an exclamation point to the chaos that punctuated the home.

The monk took a moment, half-closing his eyes, reaching out to their immediate surroundings to try and sense if there was a second wave of attackers, but nothing seemed apparent. They were alone again. Nuvyen turned to face Shadowheart, quietly telling her:
“We’ll need to see Isobel after all this. Both of you will have some things to discuss, I’m sure.” He scanned the wreckage, blowing out a sigh.
“Least we can do is tidy up, eh?” Tidying up started with Nuvyen rummaging through the belongings of the Sharrans outside, finding weapons and provisions, but little to nothing of importance.
“Mind searching Sef? He might have something on him that you’d recognize as important.”

Draw near to your destruction [IAmAugustReigns/Oathmaker]

Cailyn Drae

Faceclaim

Armored appearance:

armor

Draw near to your destruction [IAmAugustReigns/Oathmaker]

Undulations of power coursed through the Undercity, remnants of the energy that pulsated violently just several months ago still ripe for understanding, harnessing, collecting. It was difficult to ascertain how to control each strand, but nevertheless, the slow, methodical extraction of what lay beneath the recovering city would absolutely be worth the trouble. He would need to delve deeper into the Undercity, however, which would prove to be drastically difficult considering the amount of guards that the Grand Duke had posted at every entrance, grate and doorway.

Although...

He knew of the trouble that the Grand Duke faced. There were others who could sense the power he did, yet their purpose for harnessing it were malevolent, twisted. He had to find a way to thwart this new collective, one that could threaten the very fabric of a city trying to rebuild once again. He would answer the call put out by the Duke. Indeed, he would put a stop to whatever threat was lurking in the shadows and ensure that this mass of energy, of sheer cosmic force, would be utilized only for the stability of the Weave.

A broad shouldered frame seated in the northwest corner of the Blushing Mermaid rocked back against the seat it was in, eyes snapping open, breath coming in ragged gasps. His eyes narrowed, breathing returning back to normal as onlookers expressed a gamut of reactions from apathy to chortling at what they supposed to be a staggering drunk choking on his fourth pint. There wasn't much that the frame could say to thwart their opinion: he sat at a round table with four other chairs surrounding it, all empty, seven tankards drained of any liquid that had once been in them and his sense of time was slightly...distorted to say the least.
"Never could snap back to it." The frame mumbled, reaching into the pocket of his black and grey trousers to find his time dial, a circular object slightly bigger than a gold coin powered by just one of his patron's many powers marked with various lines to indicate what time of day the user was currently experiencing, indicating it was mid-day. He had sat down, what, maybe soon after the sun was rising? A chuckle, remembering his purpose for being in this hole in the first place. A missive had been posted at the Basilisk gate, stamped by the Duke himself, asking for assistance in rooting out a major threat to Baldur's Gate and any of those who were willing and able to convene in The Blushing Mermaid. He had indeed met with a cohort of about six, including one Flaming Fist Commander named Lark, who informed the group of what the Fists believed to be worshippers of the very Illithids who sought to enslave the Coast. The worshippers had formed into two major groups, The Harbingers and The Conquerors, both of which were attempting to recruit followers with promises of a life free from the confines of a dying society as well as wealth, the latter of course being much more of a draw. Lark noted several skirmishes between the two groups in the Lower City and on the fringes of the Undercity, hence the heavier security in both areas. Those who had answered the Duke's call (them) were to, by any means necessary, find out more about these groups, their motivation for worshipping the Illithids and their source of funding and/or resources. Notably, Lark omitted a great amount of detail, such as how the Fists knew about the Illithid worshippers in the first place, what intelligence they had already gathered and whether or not the cohort would receive any kind of official backing from the Fists. Of course, the reward was enough for all in the cohort to accept the missive's directive without question (5000 gold was enough to fund an entirely new life, which, based on the appearance of his fellow adventurers, could use).

When the meeting ended, he had decided to descend into meditation as a way to do his own investigative intelligence, which apparently had led to several hours passing. It would be high time for him to leave, except for something...no, someone's presence was causing him to pause...

Ah.

From his table, he spotted a lithe figure come to the counter, her eyes visibly aflame from where he sat. Her stance was relaxed, yet coiled, tight, ready to shed blood at a moment's notice. Was this the one who posted the note? Or another wanderer that would imbibe, sit menacingly for a few minutes and then leave? The energy that her presence cast was unmistakably ominous, yet alluring, as if she simultaneously invited one's doom with all the pleasures of the realms. In other words, he found her captivatingly dangerous, a label he had come to understand to mean that there was something of import happening or about to happen. Her presence here was no accident, but how to discern if she was here on the same missive as him? A simple test: the classic "a drink is on me if you're willing to sit at my table".

After a server was notified and brought a glass of Debella's Vintage over to the lithe form, the frame waved, a half-smile crossing his features. Let's see if she would bite.

Tears of the moon [Skygirl/Oathmaker]

While the encounter between Shadowheart and Sef had been playing out, Nuvyen sat crosslegged at the front door, eyes half-closed in a meditative state that could be entered by any trained in any of the Monk schools. This state of consciousness allowed for the Monk meditating to stretch the native Ki within them outward, to feel the various tendrils of energy that all creatures and objects emanated and detect changes in the normal resonance of one's environment as well as enhance their senses; in other words, a Monks meditation was an excellent threat detector.

Nuvyen felt a spike in energy coming from within the house, accompanying footfalls barreling towards their home in orderly, swift motion. His eyes snapped open, rising to his feet, fists clenched, feet firmly planted on the earth beneath. Sef materialized not too far out in front and was indeed trying to escape when Shadowheart ensnared him with a Command, the "priest's" eyes darting helplessly as he marched towards the front of the house.
"And doing a poor job of it, it seems!" A smirk came and went as he moved forward past Sef to address the now audible footfalls, four forms shimmering into view under the pale rays of moonlight that cast both a menacing and soft glow on the armored attackers. Two Tieflings, a dwarf and a human, all of whom wore the trademark armor of a Sharran assassin, their weapons of choice glimmering in bloodlust.
"Our Lady demands that you and the betrayer see the justice you escaped." One of the Tieflings hissed, the party drawing closer to Nuvyen.
"Is that what Shar calls our desire to not see the entire world enveloped in brutal, cold darkness?" A snort, hands coming closer to his face in a defensive position.
"Your mistress surely knows she sent you all on a fool's errand. This won't end well for any of you." The dwarf let out a cry of battle, charging forward first, blade outstretched above his head before attempting a downward cleave at the half-elf, Nuvyen darting to the right as the blade crashed into the ground, using the moment to deliver a powerful elbow to the dwarf's right cheek, followed by an open palm strike to the neck. The dwarf gasped, crumpling to the earth just in time for Nuvyen to feel a dagger whistle a few millimeters past his ear, the Tiefling who had spoken sprinting towards his position with another dagger, this one visibly dripping what Nuvyen assumed to be poison. The other Tiefling and human were heading towards the front door, prompting Nuvyen to shout aloud:
"Two headed your way! Be there in a minute!" He jumped backward a few feet, avoiding a potentially lethal series of blows from the Tiefling before delivering a side-kick to the weapon-bearing arm, then another kick, this one a jumping roundhouse in the direction of the attacker's face. The Tiefling managed to dodge the second kick, but the first dislodged the dagger. His attacker grimaced, lunging for her weapon, creating an opening which Nuvyen took, channeling his energy to dash forward before thrusting his right arm forward, fist clenched, a burst of purple light surrounding his closed hand to inflict not only physical, but mental damage as well. The blow connected, sending the Tiefling to the ground next to her dwarven companion, their bodies both still.

Now how was Shadowheart doing?

Tears of the moon [Skygirl/Oathmaker]

Nuvyen listened to Sef's story while every so often looking towards the woods north of their home, eyes narrowing to try and catch a glimpse of anything suspicious. No doubt he would have issues seeing anything out of the ordinary until the Sharran assassins wanted to be revealed; he knew all too well how well trained they were in skulking before their assumed kill (even Shadowheart had gotten the jump on him a couple of times with how quiet her steps could be). While Sef attested that he had made it more than a mile before getting to their home, Nuvyen found it difficult to believe that the Sharrans couldn't catch up to someone wounded and with such an important mission. Wouldn't they have wanted to murder Sef before he could deliver the missive? And wouldn't a priest of Selune, no matter how potentially inexperienced, be able to heal himself enough? Maybe that's how he got to their front step...and yet, he was convinced that Sharran blades inflicted some kind of ailment that didn't permit the victim to be healed of any kind (Gale had called the condition "Bonechilled" and Nuvyen had been on the receiving end of that magic several times in battle; not fun).

His thoughts on the matter came to a halt as his love looked up to him, handing him the letter and asking for his input. Nuvyen looked over the letter himself, scanning the pages for any discrepancy, but found none. It was moments like these, the very, very rare moments when he wished that they had their telepathic link still intact from their unwelcome cranial guests so he could communicate his doubts. A subtle, hasty frown flashing across his face would have to be enough before he responded:
"It appears you've succeeded on your mission in getting us the missive, for which we're grateful. The least we could do is give you a roof over your head and company that won't try to stab you to death until morning."
"You would offer me that? A kindness indeed." Sef managed to straight up against the front wall of the house, a grateful smile tainted with what Nuvyen thought was malice flickered.
"I would be most appreciative. The assassins were not too far behind and if Shadowheart is correct about my bleeding, they could be here sooner than we realize." Those last few words sent a shiver down the Monk's spine, his Ki vibrating in alarm. Something was drastically off, but Sef's exterior self nor his story could be proven as false. He and Shadowheart would have to coax the truth out carefully. Thankfully, he and his partner were adept at this process through experience.
"Indeed; please, go inside and down the hallway to the second door on your left. You can rest there for a while before you make the trek back to Baldur's gate."
"I am most grateful. The Moonmaiden bless you." Sef gingerly walked through the front door, Nuvyen closing it behind the priest before waiting a few seconds, then motioned to Shadowheart, taking her in his arms, whispering as quietly as he could:
"Something's off with him. I can play decoy outside with our owlbear friend and meditate, see if I can't detect the assassins before they come and try to discern why my Ki was disturbed so greatly if you want to go inside and survey his actions...or wait out here with me. Won't have much to say to you while I'm meditating unfortunately." A chuckle.
"Unless you can think of a better way to handle this odd and unfortunate interruption to our evening?"

Royal Distraction [IC] [The Raven CallsxOathmaker]

The tavern had grown eerily still as Iris and her squadron put a fearsome display of power in full view of Jove and his would-be assistants in assault, the door to the establishment slamming shut moments after Iris began to speak. Olosse himself had a few chills creep down his spine as he felt the power of his private guard begin to bristle with eager anticipation; indeed, he had actually been looking forward to seeing his guard (especially Iris) in full action, but her showmanship (showwomanship?) did the job well enough, Jove's once intimidating tone softening considerably:
"Ffffine, well and good." Olosse frowned.
"And here I was thinking that you all would get a very personal demonstration of why the Shadowguard of Ishmeldia is the most feared honorguard across the Continent. Ah well, maybe you and your motley crew will get the opportunity to watch, not participate." Olosse sheathed his dagger as he commanded:
"Stand down, Shadows. No blood, tonight...fortunately or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it." The tavern returned to it's grimy decor, door swinging open again.
"Now, let's return to the subject we were discussing in such a civil manner: the plot against Rakuhor. What might be the issue?" Jove grunted as he began filling tankards, sliding them down the counter to slightly trembling servers who frantically skittered off to fulfill Iris' request.
"Rakuhor has been making a lot of enemies lately. Horde's numbers are scattered, thinning. Old man thinks he can muscle the Iron Collective out of not just Manka, but trade ports all along the coast." Olosse cocked a brow.
"This is news to me."
"Think the old saw would want his shiny new trade partner to find out that the once proud Horde of Vadrudor is being relegated to strong-arming port guards and under-table deals? No no, liege, you're just the sword he wishes to wield." A pause, Jove's voice descending a few decibels:
"And the Bludless? They're just common folk, like me, like all the folk in here who just wan-" A sudden gurgle emerged from the tavern owner, foam and spittle flying out of his mouth as he seized violently, eyes rolling into the back of his head as a bluish light enveloped his massive form. Olosse jumped back, hand reaching for his dagger as the patrons and the prince watched in disgust as the bluish light turned crimson red, incorporeal hands forming out of the light and snapping the spine of Olosse's former conversation partner. All at once, the body collapsed to the floor, a lifeless heap.
"SORCERY!"
"MAGIC!"
With similar cries the patrons fled to the door, crashing into each other as they scattered nearly in unison, their panic echoing in the streets. Olosse, however, stood silently, mind racing.
"My, my; this is beginning to get far more complex than I imagined...or wanted." He motioned for Iris, wherever she was, to come to his side.
"My dear, you of all people should recognize the kind of magic at work here." While magic users were far and far between, his father had demanded that all three of his children study the annals of the Continent when it came to magic, knowing full well that the very, very few who could manipulate the fabric of the supernatural had brought the world to the brink of utter annihilation save for the intervention of other magic users, both groups fading into the ether over time. It was chilling to think that a magic user was present in the city, let alone one who was skilled in Evocation or the art of manipulating light, matter and the elements to create whatever they wished.
"Do you sense anything nearby in the shadows?"

Tears of the moon [Skygirl/Oathmaker]

Nuvyen's brow shot up in response to the owlbear's commotion, chuckling.
"Well, he'll have to learn how to be more of a vegetable consumer if he keeps eating everything in sight." As he drew within a foot or so of his partner, he thought he saw a flicker of apprehension flash across her eyes while asking if things had gone alright. He smiled, nodding as he took her into his arms, planting a soft kiss before telling her:
"Nothing wrong, love. Scratch and I got...distracted in Soubar by the chapel." He would tell her more over dinner, but why make her worry even more? Besides...
"I also was waiting for our favorite alchemist to arrange something for you." Removing himself from their embrace, he withdrew the arrangement of orchids from the satchel he had carried, placing the bouquet in her hands.
"Not exactly easy to find these beauties in this area, but apparently Lurcena had been working on growing these in her basement and when I told her that these were your favorite flower, she wanted to put something together for you so you could try and grow them here." The understated yet beautiful arrangement seemed to compliment and frame Shadowheart just right, especially with the orange hues of sunset reigning over them.

Goodness she was beautiful.

Not wanting to gawk for too long (and make her feel a touch embarassed), he took the satchel back into his right hand, casually brushing flecks of dirt off of Shadowheart's robes with a smile.
"I'll start on dinner if you can get BOTH of our animals in line." Scratch barked in the direction of the wooded area that led farther north in the direction of Waterdeep, tongue lolling.
"I'll leave you to it."

---

Evening featured a pleasant dinner and a fire in the hearth afterward, the half-elf looking over some of the documents he had pulled from the chapel of Bane, grunting in disapproval at the dogmatic declarations of cruelty, murder and strife that Bane was willing to advocate for in the name of...chaos? Power? The pursuit of both made Bane and the other chosen Three look like petulant children that sought to upset the lives of mortals for no other reason than to prove they had power. Although, Shar made the chosen Three look literally like child's play; while the latter almost brought Baldur's Gate to it's knees, the former would seek to swallow the entirety of the universe in complete blackness. Shadowheart had shared her studies about Shar and contrasted them with what she was learning about Selune, prompting gratefulness for his love's newfound devotion to the Moonmaiden and horror towards what Shar was willing to do to all who accepted her embrace.

He sat up in the high-backed chair he currently occupied, placing the last of the documents on a nearby end-table, about to see if Shadowheart wanted to take an evening stroll when he heard a sharp bark emanate from Scratch, the canine moving swiftly from the living area to the front door, barking again. A shock of adrenaline ran through his system, shooting out of his chair and half-sprinting to the door, swinging it open to find...nothing. He refocused his gaze to scan farther in the distance, taking a few steps out of the home and turning to the woods to find a figure shambling towards them.
"Shadowheart, we've got company!" As the figure came closer, the near full moon's light cast a glow to illuminate the figure's features: a human, male, about five foot, eight inches, garbed in what once were gracefully white robes now stained with crimson and beige, earrings in both ears with what looked like-
"Silverstars...a priest of Selune...hells!" Nuvyen ran to the priest and quickly offered a supporting shoulder, the latter slumping against Nuvyen's frame, breath coming in ragged gasps.
"He's wounded! Where do you want me to bring him?"