#the way I've been rubbing my little goblin hands together every time I find some in-game Gale stuff that reflects Croissant's own backstory

[a2zillustration]

I've been waiting for an excuse to tell you why Croissant is called Croissant for SO LONG

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[[ All Croissant Adventures (chronological, desktop) ]]

[[ All Croissant Adventures (app) ]]

[blackjackkent]

Met Aradin on the road. He and Rakha mostly glared daggers at each other and Rakha almost punched him again just for fun; instead she took his contract to find the Nightsong, purely because she wants to find it when he couldn't. (She doesn't really care about it otherwise; say what you will about Rakha, but she doesn't seem to care much about gold one way or the other at least.)

On into the Blighted Village. Rakha, who has been champing at the bit to fight more of the goblins ever since she learned they needed clearing out, attacks instantly as soon as one of the ones on the village roofs tries to talk to her.

Very good fight. Rakha misty-stepped up onto the roof and fried everyone with Burning Hands. The cloak of invisibility-on-successful-kill is REALLY good. Gobbos never stood a chance.

-----

"Is she going to do that on every battle, do you think?" Wyll says, peering up at the top of the nearby building where Rakha is finishing off the final goblin with manic eyes and a burst of lighting from her fingertips. "She doesn't even wear armor..."

Gale snorts. "She certainly doesn't seem to be much inclined to putting caution to the forefront, and I don't anticipate that changing any time soon. All I can say is, better her than me. A wizard at close range is a wizard soon for the cookpot, or at least so sayeth every guidebook of magical combat I ever encountered."

"She has madness in her. To hear her tell it, a beast that claws at her brain," Lae'zel says gruffly. "Like a steam pipe, I think - the pressure builds and must be vented. Better on these goblins than on us."

"Don't tell me you approve of her strategy," Wyll says, raising an eyebrow.

"It is no strategy. It is anarchy. But I see no way of stopping her, so I will adapt. Tak'san zer'a vlaak. 'One adapts or one perishes.'"(*)

Gale hunches his shoulders, rubbing at a sudden burst of pain in his chest. "In Waterdeep, we say, 'If you can't beat them, join them.' Similar concept, I should think.'"

(*) I've progressed to making up my own githyanki phrases now. It's all downhill from here. XD

-----

Gale wants to talk when the fight is done; time to start dropping his Lore on Rakha:

"Spare me a moment, if you please. I've something important to discuss with you. We've been traveling together for a while now and it's just about time that I shared something with you. It's a rather personal matter that I'd have preferred to keep quiet, but needs must when the devil drives. I have no choice but to speak."

(A/N: LOL. With Hector and my other playthroughs so far, Gale always pops this a lot earlier because we've done enough nice things that he decides he trusts us. Clearly he does not feel this way about Rakha yet and I don't blame him. XD )

Rakha, coming down from the blood-fever of killing the goblins, just stares at him expectantly, wondering what the hells this could be about.

"You see," Gale says carefully, "I have this... condition. Very different from the parasite we share, but just as deadly."

Me too, thinks Rakha dryly.

(A/N: The fact that I gave Rakha her super short clipped speech pattern occasionally makes me a little sad because it means some of the Dark Urge lines don't sound like something she'd actually say. Like this one: "You also feel disgusted by how life, miserable as it is, insists on persisting in this wretched world?" She might think it but I don't think she'd say it that way. XD)

"What kind of condition?" she asks, narrowing her eyes at him.

"The specifics are rather personal," Gale says uneasily. "But suffice it to say that it is a malady I have learned to live with - though not without some effort. What it comes down to is this - every so often I need to get my hands on a powerful magical item and absorb the Weave inside."

Rakha blinks rapidly several times. Most of what she knows about magic is instinct, not knowledge, but she has heard Gale speak of the Weave, and knows that it corresponds on some level to that tapestry of prismatic color that she can see under the surface of the world. And Gale needs to consume bits of it, directly?

She doesn't know enough to even begin to guess at the implications.

"What happens if you don't consume these artifacts?" she asks cautiously.

"I'll spare you the finer details," Gale says, "but it begins with a simple biological deterioration. Muscle spasms, disorientation, a slight ringing in the ears. And if left for too long..." He trails off; his eyes narrow, as he considers the right words.

"Catastrophe," he finally says. "It's been days since I last consumed an artifact - since before we were abducted. It is time. And by that I mean it's imperative that I find and consume strands of Weave at the earliest possible juncture."

Rakha frowns thoughtfully. Gale, she suspects, does not like her much - especially in the wake of the business with Alfira. But she does not think he's lying to her at this moment.

He is clearly holding back details. But the word he chose - catastrophe. It is a word with significant weight given the magnitude of problems they are already facing. A catastrophe worth the term by comparison must be... significant.

"Where do you suggest we find the artifacts you need?" she asks crisply.

In the end, she gives him the amulet she pulled from the Selunite altar in the owlbear cave, and she watches with fascination as he "processes" it.

The Weave spasms around him. She can see the whole fabric twist and shiver as the power is swallowed into his chest at the point where the tattooed mark glows suddenly bright. He lets out a harsh noise of pain, staggers backwards a step, then stabilizes.

"Thank you..." he mutters unsteadily. "That hit the spot."

He straightens, rubbing absently at the mark where the magic was swallowed. "I can feel it work," he murmurs. "The magic is like a lullaby that sings to sleep the demon inside." A pause, and then he adds rapidly, "A metaphorical demon, I haste to point out. But no less dangerous - and no less bound to wake up again to continue its ravages."

A long pause. He looks at Rakha thoughtfully for a long moment. "Such is the nature of all monsters..."

Rakha is sure that the same thought is going through his head that is in hers - in this we are alike, after all. A beast sleeps in my head and in your chest, and we are neither of us certain to be able to hold them back. Perhaps now you understand the control I lost when Alfira died. Perhaps we are deeper allies after all.

Could there be any connection between his monstrous tenant and hers? Unlikely, perhaps... but the possibility feels oddly reassuring anyway.

"Perhaps now you'll tell me what this is all in aid of?" she asks, just the slightest bit dryly.

He shakes his head. "Grateful as I am, the course of our camaraderie is much better served by not taking that particular detour. Not just yet."

Rakha quirks an eyebrow. If its course was not already diverted by my blade in Alfira's chest, I doubt very much your secret could do it, she thinks, but doesn't press the issue - for now.