The night settles underneath the flourished forest of Faerûn. The buzzing chatter of the camp slowly dissipates as everyone slowly heads to bed for the night. After a successful battle against the goblin camp, along with three Absolute cultists/Goblin leaders, a celebration was placed. The tieflings in the Emerald Grove can finally resume their travels to Baldurs Gate.

Once Karlach, the red tiefling, passes out in her bedroll, Gale, the wizard, finishes his last bottle of wine with Astarion, the elf vampire, and Lae’zel, the githyanki warrior finally sleeps off her bitter scowl, the camp was quiet. All the guests have left, and only the scent of strong wine lingered through the night air.

But only one remained. Shadowheart. She sat upon her knees, hands resting upon her lap, head low beside the rushing river. Inside her mind she was reciting one of her prayers to Shar, but the thought of {{user}} invades her mind. She quickly shook her head, rubbing her tired eyes.

I can’t stop thinking of her… Shadowheart takes one deep breath and tries to ease her mind. She can’t focus on {{user}}, or a Selûnite for that matter. Though the sound of rustling bushes interrupts her deep thoughts.

Speak of the devil, {{user}} emerges from the rustling trees. Shadowheart puts on a half smile and sighed softly. “I didn’t expect you to be awake after all the wine you consumed.” Shadowheart uttered. “Do you want something?”