I awoke the next morning to the aroma of breakfast, skillfully prepared by Gale at a makeshift table he had crafted himself. He was vigorously whisking eggs for what he called a Dragon's Breath Omelet, aptly named for its spicy fire-roasted peppers and the pungent, aged Dragon's Breath cheese melting within. Nearby, bowls brimming with fresh fruits stood ready to be folded into rich yogurt, while a pot of creamy, herbed grits simmered over the campfire, the butter gently melding with the spices. Beside the fire, coffee percolated on a flat stone, sending inviting wafts through the morning air.
At some point during the previous night, Gale had managed to set up a second table, where he was also busily preparing several dishes and accoutrements. Clearly, these were meant for this evening's Tiefling celebration. And gods above... he had even gone as far as to create a menu card.
As the moon rises and the fireflies begin their nightly dance, gather fellow revelers for a dining experience that promises to delight the senses and transport you to an otherworldly realm.
Begin your culinary adventure with our Meat Pies, featuring savory minced meat and root vegetables enveloped in a flaky, golden crust, seasoned with a special blend of herbs that whispers tales of far-off lands.
Explore the Enchanted Cheese Board, a magical selection of mystical cheeses including the creamy Moonshadow Blue, the rich Griffin’s Gouda, and the sharp Elfstone Cheddar. Accompanied by artisanal bread and wild fruit preserves, each bite combines the traditions of the old world with the flavors of the fantastical.
Savor the vibrant and colorful Forest Sprite Skewers, where fire-roasted fairybell peppers, tender eggplant, and moon mushrooms are lovingly drizzled with a thyme-infused glaze, offering a taste of the forest’s hidden delights.
Feast upon Gale’s Golden Platter, an extravagant display of grilled exotic meats such as wyvern wings, wild boar flank, and the rare wolpertinger chops. Each piece is seasoned with rare spices that add a burst of flavor as legendary as the creatures themselves.
Quench your thirst with Dragon’s Tail Ale, a robust and smoky brew that combines the depth of toasted malts with the subtle sweetness of dragon fruit, served in handcrafted wooden mugs that echo the timbers of the ancient forest.
Conclude your feast with the Elixir of Eternal Night, a mysterious and sparkling black cocktail that blends blackberry brandy, spiced rum, and a hint of Moonlit Rhubarb liqueur. Garnished with a twist of orange peel and a sprig of mint, it’s a drink that captures the essence of a night shrouded in stars and secrets.
This menu is more than a meal; it’s an invitation to a night filled with wonder, laughter, and the magic of a time when the world was still shrouded in the mystery of myths and legends. Enjoy your enchanted evening under the canopy of an ancient woodland, where every dish tells a story, and every sip is a spell.
I couldn't help but roll my eyes—Gale, ever the loquacious one, even turned a simple menu into an epic tome. As Karlach emerged from her tent, stretching and patting her stomach, lured by the aromatic symphony from Gale’s bustling setup, she beelined to his table and heaped her plate high with three omelets.
Glancing around, it seemed the three of us were the only ones about, though our dog and the playful owlbear cub we’d recently taken in were also present. The two seemed to have formed a pact of mischief, eagerly encouraging Gale to have a culinary mishap and misplace some food on the ground for them. Ever the indulgent one, he played into their game, deliberately dropping morsels for their quick consumption.
“Where is everyone?” Karlach asked, her voice muffled by a mouthful of omelet.
“Hmm, oh, Lyra was up with the dawn," Gale began, his attention never wavering from his culinary exploits. "She roused the others and took them to the Grove. She's eager to strategize with Halsin and extend an invite to the Tieflings for tonight’s celebration, before they set off to Baldur’s Gate.”
“And you just happened to decide to stay behind and play chef, huh?” I ribbed him.
“I, Astarion, was actually…” he paused eyeing me “the first to rise—even before Lyra. I had already been to the Grove and back. Needed to pick up some ingredients and discuss the meal plan with Okta, the Tiefling’s chef,” Gale retorted, with a hint of pride.
“As riveting as this exchange is, I’ve got… other matters to attend to this morning,” I said, smirking at Gale as I retreated to my tent.
“I’m sure you do.” He mumbled under his breath.
Entering my tent, I collected a spare bedroll and slipped it into my pack alongside some firewood I had collected while hunting last night. Quickly exiting the tent, I headed toward the river. I had stumbled upon a cave, after finishing my boar, that was nestled by the river—near the very place where Lyra and I had enjoyed our first shared meal. Inside, the cave’s opening beautifully framed a breath-taking view: a lush, mist-covered forest and a stunning waterfall cascading gently from the cliff above. Stalactites wrapped in lush green ivy hung from the ceiling, contributing to the cave’s raw, untouched allure. There was a nook in the stone, perfectly sculpted for a makeshift hearth, ready to kindle a fire that would cast a warm, inviting glow throughout the space. The cave offered a great sense of tranquility and privacy, making it an ideal spot for an intimate evening away from the world.
I desperately needed some uninterrupted time with Lyra, and this cave seemed like the perfect hideaway. I had playfully promised her an evening showcasing my numerous skills, and to my surprise, she seemed genuinely enthusiastic about it. Still, there was the possibility that she might decline my invitation to sneak away from camp later that evening. To ensure success, I knew I had to be at my most charming during the Tiefling party—a task that shouldn't prove too difficult. Thanks to Cazador, the bastard, I had become adept at enticing others; he had drilled into us the importance of never failing to deliver a prize to him. Brushing aside the dark memories of Cazador, I refocused on my plans with Lyra and finished setting up my impromptu camp. After the trials of the past few days, we both deserved a night filled with nothing but enjoyment.
I returned to camp to find a lively atmosphere brewing. Several caravans had just rolled in, with Tieflings and Druids actively preparing for the evening's festivities. At the heart of this bustling setup was a beautifully crafted wooden stage, rapidly taking shape at the center of the camp. This slightly elevated platform was designed specifically for the night's musical ensemble, equipped to host an array of instruments—from lutes to flutes and drums. It was here that musicians would soon weave their melodies, filling the air with rhythms and tunes that would beckon everyone to dance from dusk till dawn.
The stage itself was a sight to behold, adorned with vibrant banners that fluttered in the gentle afternoon breeze and illuminated by lanterns that would cast a soft, inviting glow in the evening hours. Above it all, a sign marked "Plucking Amazing" hung proudly, signaling the promise of an evening rich with music and storytelling, a focal point where the magic of the night would come alive.
The air at the camp was heavy with a medley of intoxicating scents, as Okta and her fellow cooks expertly prepared for the feast. Centered around a grand fire pit, they managed several large spits that rotated slowly, each cradling boars and chickens. As these meats turned, they released a cascade of rich, succulent juices that hissed and sparked upon hitting the flames, enveloping the area in a mouthwatering aroma.
Just a few steps away, smaller grills hosted an array of skewered mossback rabbit and starhorn beef. Each piece sizzled energetically, tended by chefs who liberally seasoned them with a collection of exotic spices. These spices wafted through the camp, intertwining delightfully with the nearby scents of freshly baked bread and sweet pastries from an adjacent stall. The entire setup along with Gale’s menu, promised a culinary celebration, with each dish being prepared with meticulous attention to flavor and tradition, sure to draw everyone closer to the heart of the feast.
As I wandered through our camp, I was drawn irresistibly to where my favorite part of the celebration was being setup: the beer and wine section. Rows of large, sturdy oak casks stood neatly lined up, each one tapped and brimming with its own special brew. The variety was impressive, ranging from deep, earthy ales that promised a taste of the forest floor to lighter, crisp lagers that seemed to fizz with freshness.
Nestled among these beer casks, an assortment of wine barrels perched on stands caught my eye. They offered a range of wines, from velvety rich reds to effervescent sparkling whites, all ready to be served in elegant moon goblets. These goblets would shimmer under the lantern light, scattering radiant glints throughout the area, enhancing the festive atmosphere with a touch of magic and a hint of promise for a night of revelry.
Jesters, clad in brilliantly colored costumes, were busily rehearsing their routines, poised to weave through the crowd once the festivities kicked off. Their costumes jangled cheerfully with every movement, adorned with bells that rang out in merry chimes. They practiced a series of spontaneous juggling tricks and acrobatic stunts, each more daring and whimsical than the last, ensuring their performances would captivate and delight the gathering crowd.
Adjacent to this lively preparation, a verdant green space near the stage had been transformed into a dance area. Ribbons and garlands, vibrant and fluttering, were strung from poles and draped across branches, swaying softly in the afternoon breeze, setting a picturesque scene for an evening of dancing and merriment.
To the side of where the bustling celebration was being prepared, sat an area that was being meticulously set up for the tournament games, promising both skillful competition and light-hearted fun. The archery ranges were already taking shape, each marked by a series of colorful targets placed at various challenging distances, designed to test the prowess of novice and master archers alike.
For those preferring feats of strength, a sturdy table awaited participants for arm wrestling, a favorite among the warriors. This simple setup invited bold challengers to prove their might in a test of sheer physical power.
A more whimsical game, Sprite Catch, was arranged in a nearby cordoned-off section. Here, a wizard was preparing to cast Dancing Lights, creating elusive, twinkling sprites. Participants would be armed with nets woven from spun moonlight, the only material delicate and magical enough to capture the fleeting lights. The objective was to snatch as many sprites as possible before the enchantment faded, blending agility with the thrill of the chase.
Surrounding the tournament grounds, Druids had set up stalls, turning the area into a marketplace of enchantment. These stalls were laden with handcrafted treasures: sparkling jewelry made from silver and semi-precious stones, fine leather goods, and an array of whimsical trinkets that promised to charm and delight party goers. Each stall was a trove of craftsmanship, reflecting the deep connection the Druids held with the natural and mystical worlds.
"Halsin really meant it," Lyra said, catching me off guard.
"Darling, I'm going to have to get you a bell," I joked, glancing around at the vibrant festivities getting ready to unfold around us. "It seems the Tieflings indeed know how to host a magnificent celebration."
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"Halsin went all out; he raided the druid's stores to ensure we had an abundance of food and wine," Lyra observed, her eyes twinkling as she took in the scene.
"And where might our nature-loving friend be now?" I inquired, scanning the crowd of Tieflings and druids feverously preparing the celebration grounds.
"He'll be here tonight. He made it very clear no business—tonight is strictly for pleasure," Lyra replied with a sly grin.
"Ah, my sweet, pleasure is indeed my favorite kind of business," I responded with a playful wink. Lyra's laughter filled the air, her cheeks tinting with a rosy flush.
“I promised Gale I would taste his food; I’ll see you later tonight?” She smiled still flushed
“Indeed, you will darling, indeed you will.” I looked at her coyly. With that Lyra turned on her heels happily sauntering towards Gale ready to assist with his food preparations. I watched her for a moment more, thoughts lingering on what magic the night would hold. When Lyra glanced back at me, I smiled allowing myself to be caught in her gaze, before turning and heading to my tent to prepare for the evening ahead.
As dusk draped the camp in twilight hues, the festivities sprang to life. Melodies intertwined with the aromatic scents of hearty fare, while robust ales and fine wines fueled laughter and joy that reverberated among the celebrants. With the goblin menace now a memory, the druids and Tieflings found unity. On this night, divisions dissolved, replaced by harmony and a shared sense of community.
Even my companions managed to set aside the lurking threat of the tadpole for the evening, their spirits lifted despite our uncertain predicament. The Gith had made a hasty stop at the Ale Garden before taking several tankards with her to the tournament grounds. She triumphed over numerous Tieflings at the arm-wrestling table, drawing a growing line of challengers eager to test their strength against a Githyanki. Amidst her victories, I spotted a rare smile, that seemed to flicker across her usually fridged face.
It was entirely expected to find Karlach at the barbeque pits, her plates piled high with an array of meats and vegetables expertly prepared by the Tieflings. Her eyes sparkled with delight as she settled into the grass, strategically positioning herself near the food tents. Taking a generous bite, she smiled and assured Gale that his offerings were next on her list. In a rare departure from her usually solemn demeanor, I watched Shadowheart, who was all smiles as she approached Karlach, balancing several glasses of wine and a plate heaped with exotic cheeses and breads from Gale's enchanted selection.
Gale, engrossed in managing his culinary tools, seized every opportunity to launch into elaborate dialogues with anyone who lingered nearby. He detailed his menu with great enthusiasm, describing how each item was prepared and delving into the storied history of his ingredients. It was easy to forget his wizardry origins, as he appeared thoroughly at home in his role as a chef, narrating each culinary detail with scholarly fervor.
I scanned the gathering and noticed Halsin next. The imposing druid was positioned by a fire, vividly recounting a tale to a group of small Tiefling children. Their eyes sparkled with wonder, and their delighted laughter permeated the evening air. Even this mischievous band of child thieves had paused their scheming to revel in the festive atmosphere. Mol, their spirited leader, and the reserved Silfy, brought heaping plates of food to the children captivated by Halsin's storytelling. As the tale reached its climax, the children erupted in cheers, pleading for more, to which Halsin gladly acquiesced. With a mixture of annoyance and amusement, I rolled my eyes at their innocent joy and hastily made my exit ready to indulge myself with wine.
Upon arriving at the Ale Garden, I settled into a quaint small table adjacent to the casks of Eldritch Berry Sangiovese. As I poured myself a glass, the sight of this wine uplifted my spirits—a stark contrast to the subpar offerings we had encountered previously. The Eldritch Berry Sangiovese, a splendid red wine from the verdant vineyards of Neverwinter, stood out with its intense, deep ruby color and an enticing bouquet of dark berries, subtly spiced with hints of white pepper. Each sip revealed layers of luscious blackberry and cherry, perfectly balanced with a gentle spiciness and an earthy whisper that culminated in a robust and exquisitely structured finish. There, at that modest table, I contentedly sipped, relishing a wine that was a close personal favorite and a delightful respite from earlier disappointments.
After refilling my glass, I reclined comfortably in my chair, perfectly positioned not only for easy access to the wine but also for an unobstructed view of Lyra. This small table, ideal for one, provided the perfect vantage point for watching her dance. Under the lanterns' gentle glow across the green, Lyra moved with an almost ethereal grace. Her long black hair, glossy and beautifully curled, cascaded down her back, catching the starlight with every movement. She was clad in a flowing silver and black dress, which danced with her at every step, reflecting light like the surface of a quiet lake at midnight. In her hand, the glass of Feywild Prosecco sparkled with the light of distant stars, sipped occasionally as she moved in harmony with the joyful melodies emanating from the bards on stage.
As the final notes of another song drifted away, Lyra drained the last of her Feywild Prosecco. Glancing toward the Ale Garden, her eyes lit up with a playful smile upon seeing me observing her. With a graceful poise, she made her way towards the garden, her gaze fixed on mine the entire time. Upon entering, she confidently approached the cask of the same sparkling wine, refilling her glass. Then, with a playful twinkle in her eye, she sauntered over to where I was seated, clearly intent on sharing more than just the wine.
"Do you always prefer your own company, or might you share some of that wine with me, Astarion?" Lyra teased, her voice light as she took a sip from her glass.
"Actually, I was hoping to save the best part of the evening for when you'd join me for a moonlit stroll," I replied with a playful grin.
"A stroll? And miss out on this lively gathering?" she laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
"But consider the allure of a quiet spot by the river," I countered with a wink. "I seem to recall a certain promise of... fun."
"Indeed, that promise was made," she responded, a flirtatious tone in her voice as she finished her wine in one graceful gulp. "But if you desire my company beyond the crowd, I might require a little charm. Perhaps a 'please'?"
I paused, feigning deep thought before replying with a smooth, "Please, join me."
"Good boy," she chuckled, her laughter ringing with a note of approval. "Let's see how well you keep your promises, then."
"Cheeky little pup, then by all means, let us prove it," I said, standing and offering my hand with an impish smile. "Shall we?"
She nodded, her smile radiant as we began our walk towards the secluded riverbank, the night's possibilities unfolding before us.
Guiding Lyra along the riverbank, we retraced the path to a place where we shared our first…meal, by the deep, serene pools. Soon after, we arrived at a quaint bend in the river, marked by a makeshift bridge that arched gently over the water. Crossing it, we followed a narrow, winding path that climbed gently uphill, leading us towards a hidden gem I had discovered earlier. At the end of the path lies the secluded cave, its entrance framed by a cascading waterfall that caught the light, scattering prisms of color through the mist. As we approached this enchanting spot, both Lyra and I paused, captivated by the breathtaking beauty and the soothing sounds of the falling water.
"Shit," I muttered, slightly annoyed as I noticed the waterfall had intensified since my last visit, now vigorously cascading right over the cave's entrance. The only way in was through the curtain of water.
Lyra's laughter rang out, filled with a knowing mischief. Without a moment's hesitation, embodying her free-spirited nature, she dashed through the waterfall into the cave. With a grin spreading across my face, I chased after her, the playful challenge irresistible.
We both emerged on the other side laughing, our clothes clinging to us, completely soaked by the playful assault of the waterfall.
"I suppose the drenching wasn't part of your plan?" Lyra teased, her grin wide as she eyed the bedroll and firewood I had arranged inside earlier.
Joining in the laughter, I began to prepare the fire, adding warmth and a cozy glow to the cave. Despite the waterfall now veiling the entrance, the water was crystal clear, casting a shimmering view of the forest outside and filling the cave with a soothing sound reminiscent of gentle rain. When I turned back to Lyra, she had already shed her drenched robe, draping it over a nearby rock to dry. To my surprise, she stood there in just her undergarments, a bold and unexpected move that caught me off guard.
"You're right, darling, but it seems the unexpected has its own charm," I said with a playful grin. Inspired by her boldness, I quickly shed my soaked clothes and placed them next to hers to dry, embracing the spontaneity of the moment. I paused, captivated by her in the ambient light, where the moonlight and the soft glow of the fire seemed to vie for supremacy, each enhancing the radiant sheen of her skin in a breathtaking display. Lyra held my gaze before speaking.
“What do you want from me, Astarion?” she whispered, stepping closer and gently placing her hand on my chest. I looked down into her eyes, my hand reaching up to cradle her face, my thumb gently lifting her chin to meet my gaze.
“What do any of us want really…Pleasure. Yours. Mine. Our collective extasy.” I whispered to her. "What do you want from me, my darling?" I asked, my voice soft and tentative. She held my gaze steadily, her eyes searching mine as she thought about her response.
"To lose myself in you," she replied, her voice soft yet resolute, echoing the depth of her sincerity.
In that moment, as I gazed into her captivating eyes, I leaned in slowly, our lips finally meeting in a kiss that both of us had longed for. Lyra responded with intensity, her kiss conveying a deep-seated desire, as if releasing the silent yearnings of countless starlit nights and the closeness of secrets she had longed to whisper to me. Letting go of her chin, I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her tightly against me without breaking the kiss. Lyra responded by wrapping her arms around my neck, clinging to me as if she never wanted to let go.
Breaking the kiss briefly, I leaned down to lift her up. Lyra instinctively wrapped her legs around my waist. Her touch burned like the soft glow of embers, warm and enduring, setting off a cascade of sparks that danced across my skin. I reclaimed her lips with mine, gently nibbling at her lower lip, as our passion flared like a fire reborn.
Still entwined, I carefully carried her to the bedroll and knelt to gently set her down. Pausing, I drew back just enough to admire her, the soft glow of the firelight playing across her features. She smiled, a playful bite of her lower lip hinting at her thoughts. Her smile broadened as she turned, tilting her head to expose the delicate line of her neck to me, an offering of trust and an invitation to come closer.
With a smile, I leaned closer, my lips tracing a tender path from her chin, along the side of her face, down to her neck, each kiss a soft imprint of my desire. When I reached the tender skin at the base of her neck, I gently bit down, pulling her closer into the intensity of our shared moment. Lyra's sharp intake of breath followed by a contented moan filled the air as she ran her hands across my back. My hands glided down her body, each touch as delicate as butterfly wings fluttering against her skin, deepening our connection in the quiet firelight.
I lingered at her neck a moment longer, before the bite yielded to a softer seal of a kiss. Lyra’s hands danced up my spine, framing my face with a tender urgency, drawing me back to the blossom of her lips. With a tempest's passion, I plunged myself deeply into her kiss, each motion growing like thunder rolling closer in the night.
Lyra released my face slowly returning her hands to my back, her touch was still like a spark that turned my veins into rivers of molten gold. I craved to feel only the warmth we created, yet the waterfall dampened cloth separating us felt like an icy mist. Sharing in my desires, Lyra ceased her caresses on my back and tore first at her drenched garments and then mine, in a frenzied attempt to keep the flame of our lust burning.
No longer having anything between us, I slipped inside her like a gentle whisper into silence. Together we let the world fall away until nothing existed but the warmth of our shared breath and the gentle beat of our hearts in unison. Simultaneously, we moved in harmony, our shadows blending on the walls, casting a ballet of light and darkness that reflected the depth of our connection. In that moment, we were nothing less than fire itself—wild, untamable, and mesmerizing in its purest form.
We spent the remainder of the twilight lost in a sea of desire. Like twin rivers drawn irresistibly to one another, our bodies merged seamlessly. Lyra, like a dance of waters running over smooth stones, captivated me with her fluid grace, adding to my masterful touch. I indulged her until she was a fire burned down to its last ember, her energy spent in the warm glow of satisfaction.
As I lay beside her passion sated, I strained to anchor myself back to reality. Seduction, for Cazador, was nothing less than a sharpened blade, and I had mastered the cold art of detachment while indulging others. Yet, as a flicker of panic creased my forehead, I grappled with unfamiliar emotions. My usual revulsion, which made each intimate encounter a chore to endure, was absent. Instead, observing Lyra's serene slumber, an intense unease took hold. For the first time, I hadn't escaped into disassociation; I had remained present, fully immersed in the experience with her. This realization struck a chord of terror deep within me.
I shook my head, dismissing my emotions as a mere lapse. It must be the stress of the upcoming confrontation affecting me, I reasoned. I needed Lyra's support to bring down Cazador, and this dalliance was merely a strategic move to secure her loyalty. Deep down, a nagging doubt whispered that she was more than just an ally, but I quickly silenced it.
A sigh of relief escaped me, but it was short-lived. Lyra had traced her fingers along my back, surely feeling the network of scars there. I realized then that honesty was my only option. The night Cazador had left his cruel mark was a memory of pure horror. If Lyra was to join me in my quest against him, she needed to understand the depths of his brutality—to detest him as deeply as I did.