Ishta: Blood Huntress Of Baldur's Gate

Chapter 14: History Lessons

The oppressive gloom of the Worg pens Ishta had just left clung to her, like ticks on a deer, as she navigated the Selunite temple's winding corridors. The stench of sweat, blood, and mildew still lingered, a grim reminder of the battle they had fought not long ago. The cold, damp walls seemed to press in around her, but Ishta's thoughts were focused on the task ahead. Still, traces of amusement flickered across her mind as she recalled the events from earlier.

She couldn't help but smile as she recalled Astarion's look of utter embarrassment when he had mistakenly assumed she and Halsin were lovers - the moment had been priceless. It had been a fleeting moment of vulnerability from someone who typically wore confidence like a second skin.

Ishta had tried to explain, patiently at first, that her relationship with Halsin was nothing more than the bond of adventuring partners, forged over a year of traveling together, facing danger side by side. But despite her reassurances, Astarion had retreated, sulking in a corner, his insecurity as evident as the scowl that marred his usually smirking features. Her fit of laughter probably hadn't done much to soothe his bruised ego either...

But there had been more pressing matters. The group had debated their next move, with Lae'zel suggesting they lure the Goblins to the grove. Ishta had agreed - it was too risky to fight the horde in this rabbit warren of a temple where they held the advantage. It had taken all of her determined logic to convince Halsin of this, who had been torn between his protective instincts and the necessity of their plan.

In the end, Halsin had agreed, though reluctantly. He had promised that he could reach the grove by sundown if he wildshaped into a falcon to make the journey quickly. Before leaving, he had given Ishta a parting embrace, his strength a brief comfort, before transforming into a rat and disappearing into the shadows.

Another boon to Ishta's plan had come from Gale, who informed her that he had placed teleportation sigils along their route to the temple, ensuring their return would be that much swifter. The thought of not having to travel through the swamp had bolstered everyone's mood, even Astarion's.

The Goblins, however, would take days to march to the grove, giving them time to prepare defenses.

Now, as Ishta made her way to speak with Minthara, she felt the weight of what she was about to do. Convincing the Drow leader to fall into their trap would be no easy task. Minthara was cunning, and one wrong word could unravel everything.

Ishta boldly pushed open the heavy, oak doors leading into Minthara's chamber, their ancient hinges creaking in protest, the groans swallowed by the oppressive silence of the room beyond. She entered with measured steps, her expression composed yet her mind a flurry of calculated thoughts. It was time to set the final part of their plan in motion.

The Drow warrior stood at the head of a large, crude table, her eyes fixed on the map spread out before her. Her posture was tense, every line of her body radiating a barely restrained fury. The low light from flickering torches cast deep shadows on her sharp features, making her appear even more intimidating. As Ishta approached, she could feel the tension in the air grow thicker, almost suffocating.

Ishta walked across the chamber with purpose, her boots echoing softly against the stone floor. She paused a few paces away from Minthara, just outside the reach of the other woman's weapon. The silence between them was heavy, punctuated only by the distant sound of Goblins squabbling somewhere down the corridor.

Minthara broke the silence first, her voice cutting through the stillness like a blade. "Report. And make it quick - organizing these creatures tests my patience."

Ishta inclined her head slightly, her expression remaining composed despite the tense atmosphere. She took a step closer, careful to keep her movements smooth and unhurried. "These Goblins are even more hopeless than I thought," she began, her voice cutting through the silence with a sharp, clear note of derision. "Not only did they kill the prisoner, but they were too stupid to realize they had a Druid from the grove right under their noses."