As they continued their journey towards the imposing tower, the distant, booming sounds of the monstrous Bulette were still clearly audible, the creature seemed to in no way be willing to stop hunting its prey.
Upon a closer look, they noticed that the tower itself was adorned with several bronze-colored pipes and intricate clockwork mechanisms that seemed to be moving steadily from the base all the way up to the very top.
"A wizard's tower, how... fortuitous," Minthara said, her eyes gleaming with excitement. She seemed to sense the possibility of finding a powerful magical artifact hidden somewhere within.
William's eyes widened as he took in the sight of the two large, orb-like objects that stood before him.
He could actually feel a faint humming emanating from their sturdy surface, a sensation that sent a shiver down his spine.
"Well, this is definitely interesting," he murmured, "either someone else got here before us, or... someone is waiting for us."
Karlach stepped forward, positioning herself in front of William. With a relaxed posture, she leaned back and took in the tower as a whole, her gaze sweeping across its entirety.
At that, she couldn't help but let out a low whistle of admiration, the sound clearly conveying her deep impression and appreciation for the building.
William smiled and approached Karlach from behind, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind, causing her to yelp in surprise before her face turned into a smile that could start wars.
Minthara couldn't help but scoff at seeing this, but internally, she began to mentally imagine what it would be like if it was her instead.
As her thoughts turned increasingly suggestive, she quickly turned around, attempting to hide her flushed cheeks before muttering, "Stupid red bitch!"
They began to move towards the enormous wooden door, the tower itself echoing the sounds of intricate clockwork mechanisms as they drew closer.
William was about to reach up towards the door when he heard the distinctive dull clicking sound of a locking mechanism and pulled back.
CREEAAK!
A loud creaking noise echoed from the door as it began to push inward, revealing the imposing figure of a rather tall clockwork automaton.
As the metal plating shimmered and the mechanical gears whirred, a crackling, magical lightning seemed to ripple through it, acting as a kind of metaphysical bloodstream that energized the creature standing before them.
William stared in awe as did Karlach while Minthara squinted her eyes as she observed the being before her.
"Welcome, guests. My mistress Lenore De Hurst is expecting you, and we have prepared a feast for your pleasure. If you three will please follow me..."
The automaton moved with a remarkable degree of mechanical efficiency, its movements precise and smooth. It turned its head and began walking towards the cylindrical device that sat at the center of the room, tilting its head slightly as it approached.
Then, it paused directly in front of the device and turned back to the three still standing in the doorway, gesturing for them to follow by moving its hand.
Karlach was the first to move, her belly letting out a loud groan that filled the first floor of the tower like the wall of some legendary beast.
Not to be left behind by Karlach, Minthara strutted forwards and both women stood in the cylindrical device each looking at William as he stood there still clearly astonished by the surroundings.
"Are you coming?" Both women said simultaneously before glaring at eachother in challenge.
With a sigh, William followed suit as he stepped into the cylindrical device.
As he took his first step inside, he could feel the device begin to activate, and then, with a blinding flash of magical lightning, they found themselves standing on the third floor.
"Woah..." Karlach muttered breathlessly.
It was not every day that one would experience such feats of magical engineering, even in a world filled with magical talents.
Interesting indeed. This particular architectural style clearly shows the influence of Drow techniques, but I can also discern the unmistakable mark of a Gnome's meticulous approach! Minthara, being a highly educated Drow of considerable standing and knowledge, was well-versed not only in the traditional methods of her own people but also in the practices of those she viewed as an inferior race, such as the small folk
William ignored their words as the very moment he entered this floor he had begun to feel the presence of highly controlled but immensely potent magic.
A shiver ran down the spine of the devilish figure as he felt the weight of a scrutiny that was both intense and strangely gentle. It was as if his very essence, his being, was being examined under the watchful gaze of some unseen, higher authority.
"Welcome, friends and guests, please come in and take a seat. I have prepared a grand feast for you, a feast that is fit for royalty!" The warm and eloquent voice echoed through the tower, and William found himself no longer feeling that strange pressure, his heart suddenly settling.
He looked up and found himself drawn to a Drow elf, her features delicate and striking. She was dressed in immaculate robes, her presence radiating serenity and confidence.
Yet, despite her outward calm, there was a profound sadness etched deep within her eyes, an enduring pain that seemed to consume her.
Karlach, her long strides heavy and deliberate, sauntered over and settled into a chair. Yet, her gaze remained fixed on the large slab of meat before her a steak, seared to perfection and dripping with juices.
Minthara moved forward with an air of grace and composure, a stark contrast to the raw, barbaric nature of Karlach.
She bowed deeply to her host before settling into a chair and ensuring she was using the correct utensils for the food she was about to eat. With a tentative start, she began to take small bites of what appeared to be the flank of some kind of lizard.
William was the very last individual to make his move, and as he settled down, he nodded in acknowledgement towards the host.
He then managed to find a seat for himself, landing it right between Karlach and Minthara.
His gaze immediately landed on a roasted creature that, at the time, he was completely unable to identify.
However, he later discovered at the insistence of Minthara that it was a Diatryma, a type of flightless bird that the Drow would raise for consumption.
The host, who was named Lenore, sat down and joined them. She wasn't quite as eloquent as Minthara, but still ate with grace and poise.
As the tension of the chase finally subsided, a noticeable shift occurred in the room's atmosphere.
It was replaced by the gentle, rhythmic clatter of cutlery against porcelain and the soft, satisfied exhale of breath.
For a few blessed minutes, none of them spoke much.
Hunger had taken command.
Karlach carved into her steak with the same unwavering focus and determination that you'd see from a seasoned battlefield veteran dismantling an enemy formation.
Juices ran across her plate, and she grinned around a mouthful, eyes half-lidded in bliss.
"Gods," she muttered, swallowing hard. "If this really is a trap, it's got to be the tastiest one I've ever been caught in!"
Lenore smiled faintly from across the table, her expression suggesting a subtle hint of amusement. "I assure you, if I intended harm, dinner would hardly serve as an appropriate prelude to such a thing. I prefer my guests to feel comfortable."
Minthara delicately wiped her lips with a cloth napkin, her gaze fixed on you. "Comfort has a way of lowering one's defenses," she said, her voice soft but carrying her natural edge. "It certainly isn't a bad strategy to use."
William glanced between them. "Are you two always like this? Every compliment wrapped around a knife?"
As they ate, the talk drifted easily.
Karlach recounted a particularly chaotic skirmish with a band of duergar during her days serving in Baldur's gate, complete with exaggerated gestures that nearly knocked over her goblet.
"Watch it, red fool!" Minthara warned, her voice laced with a slight hint of annoyance, as she saw the goblet threatening to tip over and spill green liquid onto Williams' food.
William shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his expression hardening slightly as Minthara's sharp, pointed remark echoed through the air, the tense atmosphere at the table rising like a drawn bowstring.
Under the table, he gently nudged her thigh with his knee. It was a quiet, almost imperceptible move, but it was a silent warning nonetheless, delivered with a friendly gesture, a way of saying, "Watch yourself."
Minthara's fork paused halfway to her lips.
For a fraction of a second her crimson eyes flicked toward him, unreadable.
Her expression immediately smoothed out into perfect, composed composure, as the mask of aristocratic calm slid back into place, allowing her to resume eating without missing a beat.
Her leg brushed his.
It started out very subtly, like a barely noticeable featherlight contact that could easily be dismissed as merely an accidental bump while we were both crammed into the small space beneath the table.
William stiffened slightly, glancing at her.
Minthara did not look at him.
With a measured sip of wine that seemed to be accompanied by an immaculate posture, she kept her attention firmly fixed on Lenore, who was now engaged in a conversation as the hostess.
The brushing came again, slower this time. Deliberate.
William nearly choked on a bite of roasted diatryma.
He coughed into his fist, earning a curious look from Karlach.
"You alright there, soldier?" she asked, tearing another piece from her steak.
"Fine," he managed to speak through his exasperation. "Just… hot."
Minthara's lips curved almost imperceptibly.
Her leg brushed against his once again, this time a slow, deliberate movement that seemed both unhurried and almost teasing. It was a stark contrast to her generally serene and composed expression.
She delicately dabbed her mouth with a napkin, her eyes twinkling as she nodded politely in response to something Lenore was saying.
She radiated a perfect image of refined and polite demeanor.
If anyone else present at the table happened to catch sight of the silent, almost imperceptible exchange taking place just beneath the white tablecloth, they didn't react or show any sign of noticing or understanding.
William kept his gaze fixed straight ahead, his awareness razor-sharp, and yet he noticed nothing else.
Meanwhile, Minthara, despite the fact that she was straddling him, simply continued eating and drinking with seeming indifference.
Karlach moved her arms with a surprising amount of intensity, almost as if her gestures were as important as her spoken words.
Every sentence was delivered with a broad, sweeping motion of her hand, and she punctuates her statements with a soft, rhythmic tapping of her fist against the table, the plates making a soft, almost appreciative rattling sound.
She let out a chuckle, a bit of roasted meat caught in her teeth, and said, "I am telling you, it was like the heavens themselves had split open, just like a cracked skull. One second we were marching across this seemingly endless plain of black glass, the next, devils were pouring out of the rift in a horrifying torrent, spreading out like ants from a disturbed hill."
Her eyes shone with the memory.
Firelight from the hearth caught in them and turned them molten.
"There was this pit fiend," she continued, carving off another bite.
"It was huge, its wings were like sails. It thought it could simply step right on top of us and finish us off. So, I decided to climb it. I reached up its legs while it was still roaring, and then drove my blade straight into its spine. I rode it down when it finally collapsed, and the whole battlefield shook violently."
She laughed, loud and unrestrained.
The sound filled the dining hall and bounced off the stone walls.
William found himself smiling despite the violence of the image.
Karlach recounted her tales of war in a manner that mirrored the way others might tell campfire legends, each account dripping with pride and an odd, almost fond fascination for the chaos she had not only survived but also embraced.
Across from him, Minthara rested her chin lightly on the hand she held, her posture exuding polite attention and courtesy.
She nodded at the right moments and murmured the occasional impressed hum.
But her eyes kept drifting back to William.
At first it was subtle.
The brush of her boot against his under the table could have been accidental.
The second time it lingered, the leather tracing slowly along his ankle before retreating.
Her expression never changed.
She lifted her wine glass and took a measured sip, gaze still fixed on Karlach as if she were hanging on every word.
"And then the demons came at us in full force," Karlach said, leaning forward with a determined expression. "Hundreds of them, all charging at us with claws and teeth. We locked shields together and met them head-on. If you've ever heard the sound of a thousand blades clashing against each other, that's essentially what it was like, a deafening roar, a continuous, relentless sound that shook the very ground."
Minthara's foot returned, sliding higher this time.
William stiffened slightly.
Her lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile, hidden behind the rim of her glass.
She crossed her legs with deliberate slowness, the movement pressing her knee lightly against his.
"That sounds… intense," she said smoothly, voice warm and low.
As she reached across the table and began refilling the goblet for William, her fingers gently brushed against his hand.
Her touch paused slightly longer than was strictly necessary, and then she said, "You must have been an absolute marvel in battle."
Karlach barked a laugh. "Magnificent? I was covered in mud and demon guts. But it was glorious. We fought for three days without sleep."
She took a long sip from the sparkling green wine and sighed.
"By the end of it my arms felt like lead, but I would have kept swinging if they had fallen off."
As Karlach continued her speech, Minthara's hand remained raised for just a moment before then settling down casually on the bench that was situated between them.
William felt a slight prickle run down his leg as her little finger brushed against his thigh, a moment that was so light and almost imperceptible, yet still managed to send a sense of quiet unease through him.
William had a bad feeling about what was coming next.