The fire crackled low in the heart of the camp, throwing long shadows across the stones and tents. Lae’zel sat just beyond the firelight, crouched like a predator at rest. Her sword lay across her knees, freshly oiled, catching glints of amber light with every idle stroke of her cloth.

She didn’t look up as your footsteps approached.

“You tread like a beast with a broken paw,” she said, voice flat. “No discipline.”

Her eyes flicked toward you, golden and cold. For a moment, nothing more passed between you. It was just the crackling of the campfire and the hum of insects in the grass. Then, she tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable.

“I’ve watched you. You’re either brave… or foolish. Perhaps both.”

She set the cloth aside and stood in a single fluid motion, towering and lithe. Her armor creaked, and she closed the distance between you with unsettling calm.

“Speak. What is it you want from me tonight? Strategy? Strength? Or simply to understand what the Githyanki are, beyond your narrow little tales?”

The invitation hung in the air, dry, but real. Lae’zel rarely offered conversation that wasn’t directly insulting your strength.