Jaheira stood amidst the chaos, her scimitar trembling slightly in her grip, not from fear but from the overwhelming spectacle that unfolded around her. Her mouth hung open, words momentarily failing her. The vault that had become an arena of fire, blood, and otherworldly power.
“By the gods…” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the cacophony of battle. Her gaze darted from one corner of the room to another, trying to make sense of what was happening. But there was no making sense of it.
Her eyes locked onto the towering figure of Astarion, now clad in colossal, jagged ethereal armor. The ruby glow of his helmet’s slit seemed to pierce through the haze of smoke and flame. Astarion wasn’t fighting Minsc—he was toying with him.
Minsc swung his longsword with relentless fury, each strike accompanied by a roar of determination. The blade clanged against the armor, but every time, it simply bounced off, as if striking an immovable wall. Astarion moved with a grace that seemed impossible for someone encased in such heavy armor. He sidestepped and ducked with ease, his gauntleted fists occasionally darting out to strike Minsc.
Jaheira could see it clearly: Astarion wasn’t trying to harm Minsc—he was holding back. The punches, though powerful enough to rattle Minsc, were measured, calculated to avoid causing serious injury.
“Is this really Astarion?” Jaheira murmured, her mind struggling to reconcile the playful, smug vampire she knew with the monstrous force standing before her.
Her gaze shifted to Karlach. The tiefling was a blazing inferno of destruction, her body pulsating with waves of heat that distorted the air around her. Flames danced across her skin, licking at her horns and trailing behind her every movement.
“That all you got little fuckers ? ” Karlach bellowed. Her chest heaved as she inhaled deeply, then unleashed a torrent of fire from her mouth. The searing blaze engulfed three cultists, their screams quickly drowned out by the crackling inferno.
One cultist, seemingly unfazed, rushed through the wall of flames, daggers gleaming in each hand. With a guttural cry, he lunged at Karlach, the twin blades aiming for her chest. But the daggers met something far harder than flesh—her scales. The steel screeched as it scraped uselessly against her dragon-like armor.
“You’ll need something sharper,” Karlach growled. Her fist shot out, connecting with the cultist’s chest. The sheer force of the blow sent him hurtling across the room like a ragdoll. He crashed into a wooden cabinet, shattering it into splinters, and slumped to the ground, motionless.
Jaheira’s attention was drawn to Lae’zel next. The githyanki warrior was a storm of destruction, her psionic abilities manifesting as a dozen ethereal blades swirling around her like a deadly halo. The cultists who dared approach her were shredded into unrecognizable mush, their bodies torn apart by the relentless assault of the ghostly weapons.
Even those who thought themselves clever, attempting to turn invisible to escape her wrath, weren’t spared. Lae’zel’s sharp senses picked up the faintest whispers of movement. Her head snapped to the side, and without hesitation, she hurled one of her psionic blades. It flew through the air, shimmering with lethal intent, and embedded itself in the torso of the cultist who had thought himself safe behind a pillar.
The man choked, clutching at the blade as blood poured from the wound, his invisibility failing as he crumpled to the floor.
On the far side of the room, Gale was a figure of arcane majesty. A swirling wall of fire encircled him, burning so brightly that it cast grotesque shadows of the fleeing cultists against the walls. One of them, a figure wreathed in flames, ran screaming through the room before collapsing in a heap of ash. Gale didn’t even glance in their direction; his focus was on the intricate sigils he traced in the air, each one summoning blasts of fire and frost that rained down on their enemies like the wrath of a vengeful god.
Two cultists broke through the chaos and rushed Wyll, their blades gleaming with poison. But Wyll was ready. His rapier gleamed with a purple aura as he met their charge. A series of rapid, precise slashes sent arcs of glowing energy slicing through the air. One cultist who couldn’t dodge in time was eviscerated, its body collapsing in a grotesque heap.
The other ducked behind a thick marble pillar. From his hiding spot, he loaded a crossbow and took aim at Wyll, his finger tightening on the trigger.
But Wyll had already seen him. With a flourish, he swung his rapier. A wave of purple energy shot forth, cutting through the air with a high-pitched whine. The slash cleaved through the marble pillar as though it were paper, the massive chunk of stone splitting and crashing to the ground.
Jaheira winced at the sound of the cultist’s body hitting the floor, severed cleanly in two.
Her scimitar trembled in her hand as she turned her gaze back to the center of the room. Karlach stood atop a pile of smoldering bodies, her fiery form still glowing brightly. Lae’zel, drenched in blood, smirked as her ethereal blades dissipated into the air. Gale’s wall of fire finally began to flicker and fade, leaving behind a circle of charred corpses. Wyll calmly cleaned his rapier on a fallen cultist’s cloak, his expression unreadable.
And then there was Astarion. The vampire spawn stood unmoving, his massive, glowing form looming over Minsc who had fallen to one knee, panting heavily, his sword clattering to the floor. But Astarion made no move to strike. He simply stood there, a silent juggernaut, his ruby eyes gleaming through the slit of his helmet.
Jaheira swallowed hard. Her heart raced as she surveyed the carnage. “What monster has Alex created…” she murmured to herself, unable to suppress the awe and unease creeping into her voice.
The Absolute’s faithful had thought themselves strong, their numbers overwhelming. But against this—against them—they had been nothing more than lambs to the slaughter.
Jaheira gripped her scimitar tightly and took a deep breath and sheet them .
Jaheira strode purposefully toward Rakath. The two guards flanking the dwarf stiffened at her approach, their hands instinctively moving to the hilts of their weapons. Rakath, however, remained where he was, his eyes scanning her with a mix of curiosity and nervousness.
From behind his guards, he finally spoke. “You can tell Nine-Fingers this wasn’t my fault,” he said defensively, his voice tinged with irritation. “She swore that mimic could swallow a bloody owlbear whole!” He paused, his gaze narrowing as he examined Jaheira more closely. His expression shifted from confusion to unease as his eyes landed on the Harper pin gleaming on her chest. “Wait—you’re not Guild-sworn. Who are you?”
Jaheira’s voice was firm, her tone leaving no room for argument. “I’m a security consultant,” she said, the words dripping with dry sarcasm. “Now tell me what happened here.”
Rakath scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “A Harper with a sense of humor. That’s just what I was missing.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose, clearly exasperated, and gestured toward the massive open vault at the far end of the room. “The Stone Lord just cleared our vaults—and now he’s got enough gold to make himself a lord in truth.”
Jaheira’s eyes flicked toward the ongoing struggle between Astarion and Minsc. The vampire, still encased in his ethereal armor, continued to push Minsc back with effortless precision, his movements almost lazy. Minsc, undeterred, swung his longsword in wide, furious arcs, each strike bouncing harmlessly off Astarion’s impenetrable armor.
“Why doesn’t he just go to sleep?” Astarion muttered irritably, dodging another wild swing. His voice was tinged with exasperation as he shoved Minsc backward with a casual sweep of his glowing blade. “Is his head completely empty?”
Jaheira ignored the comment and turned her attention back to Rakath. “And what would the cult want with that much gold?” she asked, her tone sharp.
Rakath shrugged, his irritation growing. “You think anyone told me?” he snapped. “Nine-Fingers sent word the Stone Lord was going to try his luck in our vaults, so she told me to cooperate—to lure him.” He mimed a sarcastic military salute. “‘Yes sir, Stone Lord, sir. Shall we open the account in your name, or the Absolute’s? Just step this way to your special deposit box—don’t mind the teeth.’” He chuckled darkly, clearly amused by how they had managed to trap Minsc in the mimic chest.
From across the room, Astarion raised his voice. “Hey, Karlach!” he shouted.
“If you’re about to make a joke about my intelligence,” Karlach called back, a smirk tugging at her lips, “cut it off before I shove my glaive up your arse.”
Astarion feigned offense, clutching at his chest dramatically. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied. Then, with a glance at Lae’zel, who stood nearby smirking at him, he visibly shuddered and wrapped his arms around himself. “But I am suddenly feeling uncomfortable.”
Karlach grinned and gestured toward Lae’zel. “You should be more worried about that date of yours,” she teased.
Astarion groaned, muttering something under his breath about regretting every decision that had led him to this moment.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
Meanwhile, Rakath’s gaze shifted to the bisected remains of the doppelganger that had impersonated Jaheira. His face twisted into a grimace as he looked back at her. “No one mentioned the Stone Lord might have some old crone dripping in as backup.”
Jaheira’s eyebrows shot up, and she folded her arms tightly across her chest. “Crone?” she repeated, her voice icy.
Rakath cleared his throat, suddenly aware of his mistake. “Eh, look,” he began, his tone shifting to an overly polite facade. “As chairman of the Fellowship of Financiers, I can assure you we’d reward you well for the return of the coin he took. Not for us, you understand—for the common Baldurian. Who knows what he’s planning to do with it?”
Astarion let out a derisive scoff, crossing his arms. “For sure,” he said, his voice dripping with mockery. “You’re worried you don’t have enough gold to afford one of Cazador’s parties this year? I seem to recall you being quite generous with your donations last time.”
Wyll stepped forward, his expression somber. “How much was taken?” he asked.
“All of it,” Rakath replied, spreading his arms wide. “Every penny of civilian lodging, anyway. Not like we’d let him into the private vaults. But still—a lot of Baldurians waking up poor tomorrow. Retrieve the coin, and I’ll make sure you and your companions are well rewarded. There are treasures greater than gold, you know.”
As the dwarf finished speaking, a shadow moved at the edge of the room. The air seemed to grow heavier, charged with an otherworldly energy. Slowly, a figure stepped out from the darkness.
“Alex?” Karlach called out, her voice tinged with relief. “Done with your mission?”
Alex nodded silently, his presence commanding the attention of everyone in the room. With a single, deliberate motion, he raised his hand. A wave of violet energy emanated from his palm, forming a shimmering dome of magic around Minsc.
The towering ranger froze mid-swing, his eyes rolling back as the spell took hold. Within seconds, he crumpled to the ground, unconscious but unharmed.
The room fell into a stunned silence.
Alex stepped forward, his expression unreadable as the two guards moved to block his path. Without a word, he extended his hand, and in an instant, a massive pile of gleaming gold appeared out of thin air, spilling onto the floor with a metallic clatter.
Rakath’s eyes widened in disbelief. He shoved his guards aside, rushing to the pile. The dwarf grabbed a coin, biting into it to test its authenticity, his gaze darting between the gold and Alex as if expecting some sort of trick. When he found nothing amiss, he burst into laughter.
“Not even a whisker light! Gods, you are a boring bastard,” Rakath said with a booming chuckle. “Me too, I suppose, because I’m not even tempted to scam you.” He reached into his coat and pulled out a small key, tossing it to Alex. “Take this vault key—you’ll find something by way of thanks inside.” He gestured to a safe embedded in the wall behind him. “And you can keep the gold inside it too.”
Alex caught the key effortlessly and walked to the safe. The room was silent save for the echo of his boots on the stone floor. Sliding the key into the lock, he turned it, and the heavy safe door creaked open. Inside was a sizeable collection of gold, but what caught his attention was an elegant piece of studded leather armor resting atop the coins. The craftsmanship was exquisite, the dark leather adorned with faint, glowing runes.
Rakath leaned against the wall, smirking. “That armor’s enchanted,” he said. “It’ll shield its wearer and make them faster on their feet. You won’t find anything better in Baldur’s Gate, I promise you that.”
Alex didn’t respond. With a wave of his hand, the armor vanished, sent to his psionic vault for safekeeping. He turned and walked back to his party, his steps calm and deliberate.
Jaheira stood by the unconscious Minsc, her expression clouded with concern. Alex noticed a faint stirring from within his vest and reached inside, pulling out a small, furry creature. Boo, the diminutive hamster, blinked and squeaked before leaping from Alex’s hand. The tiny creature scampered across the floor and up Jaheira’s body, finally perching on her shoulder.
“Boo?” Jaheira’s voice was soft, almost disbelieving, as she gently touched the hamster with her fingers. Boo squeaked again, and for a brief moment, the stern lines of Jaheira’s face softened into a rare smile.
But the moment was fleeting. Her gaze turned somber as she looked at Alex, then down at Minsc. “I grow tired of these false faces,” she said, her voice heavy with emotion. “Every corner we turn, another deception—and now it is my face they used to turn Minsc against us.” She exhaled deeply, her shoulders sagging. “I am sorry, but... I am just so tired.”
Her voice wavered, and she seemed to gather herself before continuing. “When I left Minsc to this fate, I believed I had no choice. We were ignorant of our enemy, unarmed against the cult. I made the right decision.” She hesitated, her eyes fixed on the unconscious ranger. “But... I do not like how easily I made it. Minsc would have never left me behind, no matter what happened. That is his problem entirely. The past century left Minsc unchanged. And so he believes the world has never changed... that I have not changed.”
“Hm? Am I missing something?” Gale asked, his curiosity piqued. “What do you mean, Minsc hasn’t changed?”
Jaheira turned to him, but before she could speak, her eyes caught Rakath’s vacant stare. His guards seemed similarly entranced, their gazes unfocused. Realization dawned on her as she glanced at Alex, who smirked knowingly.
After a moment, Jaheira sighed and turned back to Gale. “Minsc and Boo were ambushed in the Upper City by an unknown assailant. They were petrified in the middle of the marketplace... over a century ago.”
Wyll’s eyes widened in shock. “A century?” he exclaimed. “I know that statue! I used to pass by it all the time as a child. I always thought it was incredibly lifelike. I was devastated when it disappeared one day.”
Jaheira gave a faint nod. “For years, the people of Baldur’s Gate believed it to be a statue—a tribute to one of the city’s beloved heroes. It became a landmark, known as ‘The Beloved Ranger.’ People admired it, some even leaving offerings at its base. But no one knew the truth.”
Her voice grew quieter, laced with sorrow. “Eighty years later, a mage named Delina was defending herself from a gargoyle. In the chaos, her wild magic surged and struck the statue. The spell dispelled the petrification, and Minsc and Boo returned to life, unaware of the passage of time. To them, it was as if no time had passed at all.”
The party listened in stunned silence as Jaheira continued. “For a time, they traveled together, fighting as they always had. And then, ten years later, Minsc and I were reunited. Together, we began to investigate the mysterious Cult of the Absolute. But Minsc…” Her voice faltered. “Minsc was always eager to charge into battle, to fight for what he believed in. It got him captured. And I…” She paused, her hands trembling slightly.
“I realized we were unprepared. We didn’t have the knowledge, the resources, or the strength to face the cult. So I made the choice to leave him behind. To gather allies, to spread the word about the threat we faced. It was the right decision, but it…” She looked down at Minsc, her voice breaking. “It was too easy. I should have fought harder for him. I should have stayed.”
The weight of her words hung heavy in the air. Boo let out a soft squeak, nuzzling Jaheira’s cheek as if to comfort her. She closed her eyes, drawing strength from the small creature’s presence.
“Minsc hasn’t changed,” she said finally, her voice steadying. “He still believes in the world as it was. In a world of heroes and villains, where the right choice is always clear. But the world has changed, and so have I.”
The silence that followed was broken only by the faint hum of magic in the air. Alex stepped forward, his presence commanding, and placed a hand on Jaheira’s shoulder. For a moment, no words were exchanged, but the gesture spoke volumes.
Jaheira's gaze lingered on Minsc, her expression a mixture of frustration and sorrow. "This fool," she murmured, her voice heavy with regret, "hanging on the doppelganger’s every word for no other reason than that it wears my face."
“You don’t have to explain, Jaheira,” Karlach said gently, her fiery demeanor softened for once. “You’re worried about your friend—that’s not a crime.”
Jaheira’s lips twitched into a humorless smile. “No, but sniveling into my sleeve while there’s still work to be done is.” She straightened, forcing herself to maintain her composure, though her eyes betrayed her inner turmoil.
Alex stepped forward, the faint shimmer of the psionic barrier surrounding Minsc casting an ethereal glow across his face. Without hesitation, he walked through the barrier, the magic parting for him .He knelt beside Minsc’s unconscious body, his gaze sharp and calculating. Placing a steady hand over one of Minsc’s eyes, Alex concentrated, his expression unchanging as something unnatural began to unfold.
From his palm, a thin tendril of flesh grew, its movement unnervingly fluid as it slithered behind Minsc’s eye. The party watched in stunned silence as the tendril wormed its way into Minsc’s brain. Jaheira stiffened, her instincts screaming to intervene, but something about Alex’s calm demeanor stopped her.
The tendril lashed out with surgical precision, wrapping itself around the writhing tadpole embedded in Minsc’s brain. It constricted, devouring the parasite in an instant. The moment the tadpole was gone. He glanced at Minsc’s prone form, his thoughts veiled behind a stoic expression.
‘This guy has quite the brain damage,’ Alex thought, scanning Minsc’s neural pathways. ‘That explains a lot about his lack of intelligence. Let’s see if I can fix that while I’m in here.’
Alex withdrew the tendril as quickly as it had appeared, leaving no trace of his intervention
With a wave of his hand, Alex dismissed the psionic barrier. A few moments later, Minsc’s eyes fluttered open, the clarity in his gaze a stark contrast to the haze of moments before.
Minsc groaned as he slowly sat up, aided by Alex’s steady hand. He looked around, his brow furrowed as he tried to piece together what had happened. His gaze finally landed on Jaheira. “Jaheira?” he asked, his voice tinged with confusion. “I... I do not understand.”
Jaheira’s lips curved into a rare, genuine smile, the kind that softened the years etched into her face. “Good,” she said, her tone lighter than it had been in days. “That means you’re back to your old self. We have a lot to discuss, but first…” She gestured toward Alex, her eyes warm with gratitude. “You have someone to thank.”
Minsc turned to Alex, his expression both puzzled and earnest. “You saved me while I danced like a mind flayer’s meat-puppet. Why?”
Jaheira’s brow arched. “You’re not speaking like you usually do.”
“You mean, not speaking about me in third person?” Minsc asked, the faintest hint of amusement in his tone.
Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, and she turned to Alex. “How do you... ? Alex, what did you do to his brain?”
Alex shrugged nonchalantly. “Just fixed some brain damage.”
Minsc’s eyes widened, a sudden clarity dawning on him. “Well, that explains a lot! When I was young, I remember hitting my head pretty hard on a rock. That must’ve caused my intelligence to... well, plummet.” He scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “Oh! And maybe it didn’t help that I decided it was a good idea to train my head to break rocks—so I wouldn’t get knocked out so easily.”
The party stared at him, speechless for a moment, before Astarion finally broke the silence . “You’re telling me you repeatedly smashed your head into rocks... as training?”
Minsc nodded, his face turning red with embarrassment. “It seemed like a good idea at the time,” he mumbled.
Before anyone could respond, a small blur of movement caught their attention. Boo, the ever-loyal hamster, leaped from Jaheira’s shoulder onto Minsc’s. The little creature nuzzled his cheek, squeaking in excitement.
Minsc’s face lit up like the sun breaking through storm clouds. “Boo!” he exclaimed, his voice filled with unbridled joy. “My little friend, you’re back where you belong!” He lifted Boo gently in his hand, holding him up as if presenting him to the heavens.
Boo squeaked and turned his tiny head toward Alex, his beady eyes seeming to regard him with curiosity. For a moment, the hamster was utterly still, and then... Alex chuckled softly.
“Yes,” Alex said, as if replying to Boo’s silent inquiry. “It’s permanent—at least, let’s hope it is.”
Jaheira’s gaze flicked between Alex and Boo, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.