#but orin is way beyond scary and eeeeeep no thank you and i can't wait to beat her up

[blackjackkent]

Hm - ok, out of curiosity, I triggered a second long rest to see if something about the shapeshifters would proc once Wyll's business with Mizora was out of the way, and... well...

"Kainyank! Your deception ends now! I shall cleave the truth from you like flesh from a dhour!"

Oh boy.

"Help me!" the girl squeals in terror, looking up at Hector as he approaches. "She's gone mad!"

OK so. A couple things.

First of all - I speculated in my last post, off the cuff, that Yenna and/or her cat was in fact the shapeshifter interloper. It's entirely possible (even likely, I dare say) that Lae'zel is being rash here, but if she is not, I reserve the right to call myself a freaking genius at the end of this scene.

Second, it's tragically out of character for Hector to say, but this fourth dialogue option is absolutely what's going on in his head:

However - this is Hector, so his primary priority is immediately trying to defuse the situation, ideally before Lae'zel puts a blade in a potentially innocent child's neck.

"What in the hells is going on here?"

"This is not the whelp who's been following us," Lae'zel snaps. "I saw her. She slipped into camp in the form of a woman and shifted into this... abomination. She tried to silence me and hide her deception!"

"I didn't do anything!" the girl cries out with very credible terror, struggling to release herself from Lae'zel's iron grip.

Fairly interesting, this - I literally just, this afternoon, finished writing a fic (coming soon!) about how Hector and Lae'zel have bonded a lot more recently (mostly about their similarly unhealthy coping mechanisms for dealing with all the Strong Emotions in their lives right now, but still). So Hector's instinct is very much to believe Lae'zel.

Certainly, if this is Lae'zel, he doesn't believe she would be lying to him about this. She's made no secret of finding Yenna annoying, but she would not lie about it like this. Not to him.

It might not be Yenna. But it might just as easily not be Lae'zel.

Gods, he hates this. He hates that after he has grown so much in learning to trust those he travels with, that trust is being torn from under him by something outside their control. He hates that Orin's very existence is enough to upset the order of things, that she need not even act in order to cause them to start to tear themselves apart from within.

Moonmaiden, grant me wisdom... please...

"Do you have any proof?" he asks carefully.

"Is my word not enough?" Lae'zel snarls.

With a quick, sharp motion, she pulls a dagger from her belt, lifts it to Yenna's neck.

"Say your farewells, ne'voocrim!"

Hector puts out a hand sharply before she can strike, his eyes fixed on hers. [PERSUASION] "There's something we're not seeing here!" he snaps out.

Look at me, Lae'zel - if you truly are the woman I have come to know, who has come to trust me... you will stay your blade until I can speak.

(A/N: 25 DC, almost impossible even with Voice of the Circle AND Favorable Beginnings, but crit success on an inspiration re-roll, holy shiiiiit.)

Lae'zel's face twists at the interruption; abruptly she shoves the girl aside and takes a step towards Hector. Her eyes narrow and her lips curl in a sudden mad smirk - and Hector feels a chill roll through his whole body.

"Perhaps if I remove your eyes," she sneers, "you'll see things as they are."

Hector takes a rapid step back, his hands lifting, ready to strike. This is not Lae'zel - that much is suddenly obvious, and his neck prickles with fear. How long? How long has she been here lurking among them? Where has Lae'zel been taken? What has Orin done to her?

As if in answer, the false githyanki's head twists in a spasmodic jerking movement that is, by now, all too familiar.

The sense of utter violation is surprising. He feels his whole body go tense, a muscle working in his jaw. To be surprised by Orin in the city is one thing, but to have her here in their camp, their place of safety and respite and refuge - to have her take the form of one of his closest allies, and threaten to murder an innocent child in front of him...

His expression remains utterly still, showing no sign of the turmoil in his mind, but his fists clench at his sides.

There's soft footsteps behind him. The others have started to wake at the commotion, to realize what is happening. He can hear the slide of metal on metal as blades are drawn, the sound of hoarse, nervous breath. But no one strikes; perhaps all of them are as overwhelmed as he feels at this invasion of their home.

That unsettling smile has not moved from Orin's lips throughout her transformation. "Look at it," she murmurs, her eyes tracing over Hector from head to foot with disdainful amusement. "Crawling and sniffing and rooting around in the filth. Is it my Netherstone you seek, little piggy?"

She reaches out a hand, draws her fingertips tauntingly along his jaw. Her skin is ice-cold, like the touch of a corpse. He doesn't move, resists the urge to flinch. "Hush... hush..." she croons, her eyes alight with madness. "Orin will take care of you. And your little pet."

At Hector's side he sees the flash of a blade. Karlach has moved next to him, and her sword is up, the point aimed directly at Orin's throat.*

Hector's voice is tight and hoarse, trying not to show the depth of his fear in this moment. "What have you done with Lae'zel?"

Orin draws back with a soft, maniacal giggle. "Nothing!" she says brightly. "No, not a thing! Still gasping and gagging on the foul airs of Bhaal's temple." She smiles slowly, full of gleeful malice. "I will not slice. Her kind die too easily."

She begins to stroll casually between their bedrolls, seemingly unconcerned by the weapons drawn in her direction, or the anger in her audience's eyes. "The Murder Lord demands a better offering. Something new... sticky sweet and delicious." She pauses, turns to meet Hector's gaze again, pokes a finger towards his chest.

"He wants *you.*"

"Fuck that," Karlach mutters at his side.

Hector shakes his head slightly. His skin is crawling at the nearness of the shapeshifter, at what she is describing, and his adrenaline is starting to pump with urgency - the need to find Lae'zel, to get away from this creature, to escape whatever the God of Murder has in mind for them all. But they need information before they can hope to retaliate...

"The Murder Lord wants me?" He is surprised to hear how steady his voice sounds all of a sudden. "Why?"

"Ketheric's killer..." she murmurs. There's a strange sort of eager hunger in her tone now at the mention of the violence Hector has wrought in the past. "Turned the corpse-lover to carrion when you took his stone. But he was a dull kill. No blood to spill, no guts to rip - a desiccated husk, all dust and hollow." Her breath catches with an eager whine, those pale blank eyes widening. "You must be sharpened before you set your edge against my skin."

Hector shudders. "Enough of these riddles," he snaps. "Speak plainly."

Orin tilts her head. "You'd prefer my whispers in the tyrant's tongue?" she says.

Another sudden twist, a flash of red - and Gortash stands before him instead.

"You've heard Gortash's whispers. I see how your skull swarms with his promises..." The words are Orin's, but now uttered in Gortash's low, sardonic growl. "He whinges and wails over the Crown of Karsus, wanting to command it without me... Oh, how I long to slit his poxy smile from ear to ear. But I can't touch him. He bound my blade when we first conspired."

"Gortash didn't want me at first. Didn't trust me. Got me to wag my tongue, swear an oath never to hang him from the hooks, drip-drain him into Father's open jaws... You must kill the tyrant, take the Netherstone from his corpse, and bring it to my temple. There we slice and shred each other. The survivor claims the stones. What's left of the other is Bhaal's."

It is incredibly unsettling to hear Orin's insane ramblings coming from Gortash's throat. Hector listens in silence, watches as the creature shifts again, back to Orin's pale skin and eyes.

"Agree, and I will bring my assassins to heel. They watch you always, longing to spray the crimson from your veins. Refuse me, and you'll learn what happens to those who defy Bhaal's doctrine. So will your friend."

Narrator: Orin demands a fight to the death. The prize for the victor - the Netherstones, and the chance to control the crown alone. Accept, and you must kill Gortash. Refuse, and your companion's life may be forfeit. As might your own - Orin's assassins will hunt you like prey for slaughter.

Hector's mind whirls, wheels turning rapidly as he tries to parse the situation and the best way out of it.

The worst thing about this situation is that agreeing to Orin's demands feels like the right answer.

He was already going to kill Gortash; that has been a given for quite some time. Even were he not one of the Chosen, Hector would help Karlach destroy him regardless; as it is, he cannot be allowed to live. And Orin is, by far, the scarier of the two remaining leaders of the Dead Three's plot. Allying with her long enough to keep her shapeshifting assassins off of him and his friends is more than a little appealing.

Then, of course, there is Lae'zel. He intends to rescue her regardless of the agreement here; she cannot be allowed to languish in a Bhaalist prison. Not after how important she has become to him, to the whole group. She is one of their family now. But to agree to Orin's demands for now would perhaps help to ensure her safety long enough for him to find her.

Normally at this point in his thought process, he would consider that he abhors the thought of lying, of placing his word of bond on a deal that he means to betray. But the extraordinary thing about what Orin is offering is that her endgame is only the final showdown between them that was coming anyway; he does not want control of the Netherstones, but he was never going to let her live. She expects his betrayal, it is even written into the deal - what she offers is only a brief cessation of hostilities long enough for it to come to blows between them in another place.

She is, in short, offering him a deal for what he was going to do anyway - kill Gortash, and then kill her. The only variable is Lae'zel's safety, which is better ensured by playing the game Orin's way, at least for now.

"So be it," he says harshly. "I will kill Gortash. Lae'zel lives. Then we fight for the final Netherstone."

Her eyes widen with insane joy. "The promise of slaughter! Of pain and humiliation and the sound of blood drip-dropping into the gutter. Do not underestimate his Steel Watch. Seek their cradle in the Lower City and skewer their skull meat. Make them rust and blood. Then you can gore the lordling again and again and again--"

She squirms with excitement, her voice rising in pitch to an eager squeal, those pale eyes fixed on Hector's face. "But listen. Listen close, Bone-killer... Step in my domain while the tyrant still sucks air, and I will carve your failure into your pretty plaything's skull. Bring me his stone and I will set the bait free. Only then can you and I make exquisite butchery. The victor will set the world to slaughter."

She twists the ring on her finger, disappearing into a burst of red light with her last words hanging in the chill night air. "This is Bhaal's offer. He will not make another."

-----

"Holy shit. Fuck. Soldier, what the fuck was that?" Karlach's sword falls to her side and her other hand grabs Hector's arm urgently. "We're not seriously going along with this?"

"Why not?" Hector says bitterly. "All she has asked us to do is kill Gortash and then come to fight her. I don't believe we ever had another plan anyway."

"And Lae'zel? You believe she'll just let her go?" Shadowheart asks, her eyebrows knitted with concern. Even now, she bears no particular love for their githyanki comrade - but she has come far enough at Hector's side that she doesn't want Lae'zel lost either. "She's a trickster - a creature of shadow beyond any that ever served Shar. Who is to say she will keep her promise?"

"I believe she'll keep her safe until I come to face her," Hector says wearily. "Because she knows we would not leave Lae'zel behind. Alive, she's bait. Dead, she's useless."

Jaheira smiles, without humor. "I believe you are correct," she agrees quietly. "So it seems we have only one path forward."

Hector nods. "And the first step is killing Gortash - ideally with as little delay as possible."

Karlach's lips curl in a savage smile and her hand tightens on Hector's arm. "Well - you won't hear any argument from me."

-----

* Artistic license, obviously. I just liked the mental image. XD