Lump felt something prodding his head. Groaning, he squinted as he cracked his eyes open, each movement requiring immense effort. A pounding headache greeted him, and his large hand instinctively went to rub his throbbing temples.
The Blushing Mermaid tavern was in a predictable state of disarray. Sailors were sprawled across the floor, snoring amidst the chaos of overturned chairs and sticky puddles of ale. The air was thick with the stench of stale alcohol and sweat. Lump scanned the room sluggishly, his bleary gaze landing on Halsin, who stood near a table, sipping calmly from a steaming mug. The calm presence of the druid stood in stark contrast to the disheveled room.
Before Lump could process further, something pressed against his head again. His eyes darted to the source: a polished boot attached to a man who looked profoundly out of place amidst the tavern’s wreckage.
The man’s presence was magnetic, his appearance striking and almost too perfect. Long, inky-black hair cascaded past his shoulders, catching the dim light with a silken sheen. His piercing reddish eyes glowed faintly, their ember-like intensity enough to send a chill through anyone unaccustomed to such otherworldly features. He was dressed impeccably, his tailored dark coat accentuating his broad shoulders and lean figure. Beneath it, a bluish-red shirt with intricate embroidery at the collar and cuffs added an elegant, almost aristocratic touch. His chiseled features bore no blemish, and his crimson eyes were framed by an expression that balanced between disdain and disinterest.
Lump blinked at him. “Huh. Who the fuck are you?” he slurred, his voice thick with grogginess.
The man scoffed softly, his lips curling into a faint, condescending smirk. That sound resonated in Lump’s mind like an eerie ripple, and then it hit him. His hive connection buzzed to life, resonating with the man in an unmistakable way. Lump’s blood turned cold.
“Shadow?” Lump blurted, his surprise clear. The last time he’d seen Shadow, his appearance had been monstrous, cloaked in writhing shadows and otherworldly terror. This refined, polished figure was almost unrecognizable.
Shadow inclined his head slightly, acknowledging him. “Get up. Alex has a mission for us,” he said, his voice low and clipped. “He instructed me to gather you and Halsin.” He muttered something under his breath, perhaps a curse directed at the task.
Lump groaned but obeyed, hauling his massive frame upright. He lumbered over to a barrel still holding some remnants of ale, tipping it over his mouth and draining the contents in one long gulp. With a loud belch, he wiped his mouth and gave Shadow a lazy grin.
Shadow’s crimson eyes narrowed with thinly veiled disgust. “Charming,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. Turning on his heel, he made his way to the table where Halsin sat. The druid had been quietly observing, a faint smile playing on his lips as he nursed his drink.
Shadow’s sharp senses immediately picked up the concoction’s pungent aroma. “What are you drinking?” he asked, sniffing the air cautiously.
Halsin’s smile widened. “My own creation,” he explained. “A remedy for hangovers. It works immediately.” He raised the mug in a mock toast before taking another sip.
Lump leaned against the table, scratching his head. “So, what’s the mission?” he grunted.
Shadow pinched the bridge of his nose, visibly restraining his irritation. “The hag you killed last night,” he began.
“Auntie Ethel,” Halsin interjected, his demeanor instantly sobering as he set his cup down.
“She wasn’t the only hag in Baldur’s Gate,” Shadow continued, his voice grim. “There are three more. They’re hiding in the Upper City, led by a matriarch – their grandmother.”
Halsin’s face darkened. Though he tried to maintain a calm façade, the weight of the revelation was evident in his eyes. He murmured a soft prayer under his breath. “By the Oak Father,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.
Shadow leaned forward, his fingers steepled as he surveyed the two men. “I know where their lair is and how to reach them. Despite my objections, Alex insisted I take you both with me, claiming you have… experience dealing with hags.” His tone was laden with skepticism.
Lump snorted, gesturing towards Halsin. “He knows. Probably hunted a few in his day or something.”
Halsin gave a slow nod, a sad, distant smile spreading across his face. “Too many,” he said softly, his voice tinged with regret.
The three men sat in contemplative silence for a moment. Then, Halsin drained the rest of his mug and rose to his feet, his expression resolute. “What are we waiting for?” he asked, his voice steady and full of quiet determination.
Shadow led the group through the west side of the city, his unusual appearance drawing curious and wary glances from passersby. Lump and Halsin followed closely behind, their attention soon captured by the imposing gate ahead. The massive structure, reinforced with steel and flanked by guards from both the Flaming Fist and Steel Watchers, loomed like an unassailable fortress, a stark reminder of the Upper City’s exclusivity.
The group paused as a man, accompanied by four armored guards, approached the gate. One of the Flaming Fist guards stepped forward, exchanging words with the man before escorting him through a smaller door set into the side of the gate. The door closed with an ominous clang, leaving Halsin and Lump glancing at Shadow for guidance.
“How are we going to get past them to reach the Upper City?” Lump asked, leaning in close enough for his pungent breath to make Shadow wince.
Shadow pushed him back with a scowl. “Not through the gate. There,” he said, gesturing toward a large manor just off the main road, its towering spires casting long shadows over the street.
Halsin and Lump exchanged a skeptical look before trailing after Shadow, who had already started toward the mansion. The structure was opulent, with intricate stonework and gilded accents that spoke of wealth and influence. At the entrance stood a dragonborn man with pale tan scales and fiery red eyes. His attire was impeccable, a finely tailored attendant’s suit topped with a fanciful hat that lent him an air of importance. The contrast between his composed demeanor and the chaotic atmosphere inside the manor was striking.
The dragonborn offered a slight bow. “Good day to you, sir. My apologies, but Lady Jannath is not currently welcoming visitors. If you’re here regarding her recent marriage, you may leave any gifts or warm wishes with me, and I will ensure she receives them.”
His polished demeanor shattered at the sound of a crash from inside the manor. A loud voice, harsh and guttural, bellowed unintelligibly. “Karshoj arnahk!” the dragonborn exclaimed, before quickly clearing his throat and resuming his composed tone. “Ahem. Forgive me. As you can hear, Lady Jannath is indisposed at present. Please return at another time.”
Shadow’s expression didn’t waver. “I was sent by Mystic Carrion,” he said firmly.
The dragonborn’s eyes widened, and he hurried to open the door without another word. Shadow stepped inside without hesitation, and the others followed, Halsin muttering under his breath, “There’s an evil presence in this place.”
The air inside was cold, heavy with the oppressive feeling of unseen eyes watching their every move. The furniture floated eerily around the room, and faint whispers seemed to echo from nowhere. Lump ducked just in time as a chair flew past his head, shattering against the wall behind him. His shiver deepened as his gaze fell on blood-red words that had appeared on the wall: “GET OUT.”
Halsin gripped his staff tightly, his muscles tensing, but Shadow remained unfazed. “Are you coming?” Shadow asked, his tone sharp as he glanced back at the pair. They hurried after him, climbing a short set of stairs.
As they reached the landing, two ethereal figures materialized before them, their ghostly forms radiating malice. Shadow extended a hand, and spectral chains erupted from thin air, binding the entities. He placed a glowing hand on the chains, and the spirits vanished with a wail, the air thick with the lingering echoes of their anguish.
The second floor was even more oppressive. Whispers seemed to brush against their ears, growing louder with every step. The wooden floor creaked ominously, and the furniture seemed to shift of its own accord, as though the house itself was alive and resentful of their presence. Finally, they reached a set of double doors, intricately carved with scenes of pastoral beauty that felt at odds with the malevolence saturating the air.
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Shadow pushed them open, revealing a grand bedroom. The air inside was thick with tension, and their eyes were drawn to the room’s center. A noblewoman knelt on the floor, her elegant dress crumpled as she pleaded with the figure before her. Floating above her was a man bathed in an eerie blue aura, his blond hair glowing faintly in the unnatural light. His piercing eyes burned with malice, his expression twisted into a cruel sneer.
“Oskar, if you’re still in there, listen to my voice!” the woman begged, her voice trembling but determined. “This is not you. Please, let me help you!”
The man—or whatever he had become—laughed, a cold, hollow sound that sent a chill through the room. “All I hear is the grunting of a swine. Come closer so I can rip your filthy tongue from your throat.”
Tears welled in the woman’s eyes, but she stood her ground. “Stop this! I love you, Oskar. And I know you love me.”
Oskar’s twisted smile grew darker, his voice dripping with venom. “It’s your gold I love, hog-wife. But all the riches in Faerûn wouldn’t make a life with you worth it.”
The woman flinched, her head bowing as her shoulders shook. “Gods aid me,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “He does not mean the things he says.” She looked up then, her tear-streaked face turning to Shadow, Lump, and Halsin.
“You!” she cried, desperation lacing her voice. “Help me subdue him. But please, be gentle. He’s not to blame for this!”
Her words hung in the air, heavy with emotion, as the group exchanged glances. Lump’s usual bravado faltered, and Halsin’s knuckles whitened as he gripped his staff.
Oskar turned toward Shadow and unleashed a screech that reverberated throughout the room, shaking the very walls and sending an unnatural chill into the air. The sound seemed to call forth an otherworldly presence, and out of nowhere, five poltergeists emerged from the walls and floor. Their spectral forms twisted and shimmered, their malevolent energy palpable.
Halsin and Lump tensed, as they prepared for a fight. But before they could act, Shadow stepped forward with an unsettling calm. His hand began to glow with dark, necrotic flames, and the very shadows in the room seemed to tremble, responding to his command. With a flick of his wrist, spears of darkness shot through the air, striking each of the poltergeists with unerring precision. Their forms collapsed to the floor, disintegrating into glowing dust that scattered across the wooden boards.
The room fell silent for a moment, the oppressive weight of the poltergeists' presence lifted. But before anyone could speak, Oskar lunged at Shadow with another guttural scream, his movements erratic and frenzied. Shadow sidestepped him effortlessly, his fluid grace contrasting sharply with Oskar's wild aggression. With a precise, roundhouse kick, Shadow sent Oskar sprawling to the floor. The impact shook the ground, and Oskar groaned as he struggled to rise.
Shadow wasted no time. He moved with cold efficiency, grabbing Oskar by the head. His fingers glowed with dark energy as he began to pull, his grip unrelenting. A chilling light surrounded Oskar’s body as Shadow dragged an ethereal form out from within him. The ghostly figure took shape, vaguely resembling a woman with twisted, wailing features. Her screams pierced the air, a sound so unnerving it felt like it could shatter their very souls.
Halsin, Lump, and noble woman clutched their ears in desperation, trying in vain to block out the piercing sound. The noblewoman’s face was pale, her trembling hands pressed tightly against her head. The air itself seemed to vibrate with the ghost’s agony, the temperature dropping as frost formed on the edges of the furniture.
Shadow, however, remained unmoved. His expression was cold, his ruby eyes glowing faintly as he pulled harder. The ghost’s form stretched and twisted, her spectral body resisting his grip. But Shadow’s strength was absolute, and with a final, forceful tug, he ripped the ghost free from Oskar. The connection severed, the ghost shrieked one last time before darting through the wall, disappearing into the void beyond.
The room fell deathly silent, the oppressive energy dissipating like a dissipating storm. Shadow released Oskar, letting the man’s limp body slump to the ground. He turned to the noble woman, who was frozen in place, her wide eyes staring at him in awe and fear. Shadow’s piercing gaze softened slightly as he extended his hand to her, his movements deliberate and composed.
The noblewoman blinked rapidly, as if breaking free from a trance. Her auburn hair, meticulously styled and braided, framed her delicate features. Her muted green-gray eyes were striking, carrying an unspoken depth that spoke of a lifetime of trials. Despite her refined demeanor, there was an unmistakable vulnerability in her expression, as though she carried the weight of countless burdens. Her richly embroidered green gown shimmered faintly in the dim light, the gold-threaded ivy patterns adding an air of understated majesty. Ornate, peacock-inspired pauldrons adorned her shoulders, their gem-encrusted details catching the faint glow of the room.
Shadow’s hand remained outstretched, his movements slow and deliberate. Finally, she hesitantly placed her trembling hand in his. Her breath caught in her throat as Shadow leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles. His touch was light, but the gesture carried a gravity that made her heart skip a beat. Her cheeks flushed a delicate pink, and she struggled to compose herself under his intense gaze.
“My name is Shadow,” he said, his deep voice carrying a melodic yet commanding tone. “It is an honor to meet you, Lady Firellia Jannath.” His ruby eyes locked onto hers, their fiery glow both mesmerizing and disarming. “You are even more beautiful in person than I had heard.”
The noblewoman’s lips parted slightly, her words caught in her throat. She could feel the heat rise in her cheeks as she tried to find her voice. “Thank you,” she finally whispered, her tone faltering slightly.
Lump and Halsin, who had been watching the interaction in stunned silence, exchanged glances. Lump scratched his head, unsure of what to make of the scene, while Halsin’s stern expression softened into something resembling amusement. He leaned toward Lump and whispered, “I’ve never seen someone exorcise a ghost and then charm a lady in the same breath.”
Lump grunted in agreement, folding his massive arms across his chest. “He’s got a way with words, I’ll give him that.”
Shadow straightened, releasing Lady Jannath’s hand. “You’re safe now,” he assured her, his voice softening. “But there may be more lingering threats in this place. Stay close, and we’ll ensure no harm comes to you.”
The noblewoman nodded, her composure slowly returning. “Thank you, Shadow. You’ve saved both Oskar and me. I am in your debt.” Her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer before she turned to check on Oskar, who was beginning to stir.
Shadow stepped back, his ruby eyes scanning the room for any lingering dangers. As Halsin and Lump moved to his side, the tension in the room began to ease. But even in the relative calm, the memory of the ghost’s scream lingered, a chilling reminder of the darkness that still lurked within the mansion.
Oskar stirred for a few moments before becoming still again. Lady Jannath turned to Shadow, her voice trembling with fear. “Why is he not waking up?” she asked, clutching her hands tightly to her chest.
“He’s just exhausted from the exorcism,” Shadow replied calmly. “But he will wake soon. For now, we need to deal with the ghost responsible for the state of this mansion.”
Halsin stepped closer, his brow furrowed. “What exactly is happening here?” he asked, his deep voice steady but concerned.
Lady Jannath let out a long sigh. Shadow helped her to her feet and guided her to the bed. She sat down heavily, her hands trembling as she tried to collect herself. After a moment, she began to speak, her voice wavering with emotion. “Not long after the wedding, Oskar began to change. He lost his appetite and fell into dark moods. He avoided my company entirely. I thought it was just artistic temperament… but it worsened. He became violent. Called me names so vile I hesitate to repeat them.” Her voice broke slightly, and she paused to steady herself. “Something unnatural has taken hold of him. Oskar has been possessed.”
Lump rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. “Yeah, we kinda figured that part out,” he muttered dryly.
Lady Jannath shot him a sharp glare before continuing. “The last time I left his room, the walls started bleeding, and a portrait of my mother tried to bite me.” Her voice faltered as she recalled the horrifying experience. “Flying furniture and screaming portraits I could endure, but to see my husband reduced to such a state...” She covered her face with her hands, taking a deep breath. “I couldn’t come within arm’s reach without him trying to strangle me. And the words he said… It wasn’t him. I know it wasn’t him. He would never hurt me.” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she looked up at Shadow. “I promised I’d protect him, but I’ve already failed.”
Shadow’s gaze moved to Oskar, who lay motionless on the floor. “Even now, he’s not completely cured,” Shadow said, his voice steady and matter-of-fact. The group’s attention snapped to him. “He won’t recover properly until we find and deal with the ghost that possessed him.” His crimson eyes locked onto Lady Jannath. “Do you know where we should start?”
Lady Jannath nodded hesitantly. “Oskar’s behavior began to change shortly after the wedding. He became withdrawn, spending hours… no, days at a time working obsessively in his atelier. I tried to take him food once, but I couldn’t cross the threshold. It was as though the house itself didn’t want me up there.” She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. “I swear it’s in the walls, watching us.”
Shadow closed his eyes, deep in thought. When he opened them, his expression was resolute. “Lump, Halsin, stay here and guard Oskar. Lady Jannath and I are going to check the attic.”
Lump snorted. “Tsk, you sound just like Alex,” he muttered under his breath, earning a sharp look from Shadow.
Lady Jannath’s composure cracked as her eyes widened in fear. Her hands trembled slightly as she clasped them together. “Is it really necessary for me to come with you?” she asked, her voice almost a whisper.
“Not necessary,” Shadow replied, stepping closer to her. His tone softened as he reached out, gently arranging a strand of her auburn hair that had fallen loose. “But the ghost may try to attack you once I leave. And that would be a shame.”
A faint blush spread across Lady Jannath’s cheeks. She averted her eyes, trying to hide her flustered expression, but Shadow’s undeniable charm was too much for her to resist. With a reluctant nod, she allowed him to help her to her feet. He offered his arm, and after a moment’s hesitation, she took it. Together, they began their ascent to the attic, the air growing colder with every step.
Once they were out of earshot, Lump glanced at Oskar’s unconscious form and smirked. “This guy’s marriage is done for,” he said, his tone smug.
Halsin frowned, his eyes narrowing. “She’s following her heart. What’s wrong with that?”
Lump chuckled. “Yeah, and her heart’s following Shadow, not her husband. Can’t say I blame her, though...”
Halsin shook his head, his expression stern but tinged with amusement.