SEASON BREAK. What happens when a famed Vampire Slayer finds out one of her team is a Vampire? Emotional angst and shenanigans, that's what.
Follow the journey of Ishta, the once dreaded Blood Huntress of the East, as she discovers how one person c...
Deep within the crumbling walls of a windmill, Astarion found himself surrounded by an intricate maze of aged wood and rusted iron. The air was thick with the musty scent of old grain and decaying timber, mingling with the faint, eerie creak of the windmill's sails turning outside.
He ran his fingers along the rough-hewn surface of a wooden lever, feeling the grooves worn into the handle by countless hands over the ages. The lever's inscription, "release brake," was barely legible, its once sharp letters softened by time. Beside it, the neglected lever coated in rust bore the word "brake" in jagged letters on its iron handle.
The rhythmic churning of machinery filled the air, adding a mechanical backdrop to his contemplation. Astarion grappled with a mischievous dilemma: one lever promised to please Ishta and earn her approval, while the other held the tantalizing possibility of witnessing a Gnome take flight - a thought that tickled his dark sense of humor.
Their journey back to the party had taken an unexpected turn when Ishta, Astarion, and Karlach stumbled upon a grim scene in Moonhaven village. A band of Goblin Raiders was tormenting a Deep Gnome, bound and helpless, strapped to the windmill's relentless sails. The Gnome's desperate cries for mercy had pierced the air, drawing Ishta's immediate attention. Despite Astarion's suggestions to leave the Goblins to their cruel games, she had insisted on intervening.
The Goblin leader, initially hostile, had undergone a startling transformation when Ishta raised her hand to her temple. A symbol on his face had flickered with a strange light before his arrogance crumbled into groveling fear, as he addressed her as 'True Soul.' Under her command, the Goblins had scattered, their departure revealing the unsettling power of the tadpoles and their connection to the mysterious cult of the 'Absolute.'
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"Have you found a way to stop the sails yet?" Ishta's voice, sharp with impatience, cut through Astarion's reverie. She peered down at him through a gap in the stone walls, her expression half-hidden in the interplay of shadows and the warm glow of the late afternoon sun.
Astarion gestured towards the levers. "I believe the one marked 'brake' will suffice... though I can't help but wonder what spectacle awaits if I pull this one," he mused, his fingers lightly caressing the 'release brake' lever. A mischievous glint danced in his eyes.
Ishta's gaze narrowed, a silent warning. "Try it and find out, mate..."
His grin widened, leaning into her challenge. "Yes, that was my intention," he teased, his voice a soft drawl.
"You know damn well what I mean, Astarion."
With a melodramatic sigh and a playful pout, Astarion relented, pulling the brake lever. As he climbed out through the broken wall to join Ishta and Karlach, he couldn't resist a final jab. "You're no fun."
