Disclaimer: I don't own Neverwinter Nights 2 or the Forgotten Realms Campaign Setting. Those belong to Obsidian et al and Wizards of the Coast.

Sweetest in the Gale

The Trouble with Gith

It had been incredibly easy to talk their escort into taking them to the Archives. A few honeyed words, a sweet smile and paired innocent expressions, and the young man had been blushing and stammering that, well, maybe it would be okay after all - it was just a short side trip, right?

Lyssi should've known it was too easy.

And she really should've expected the githyanki ambush, in hindsight. They'd fouled up every other portion of her life so far, why should this be any different? And of course, going with her luck, they'd already gotten to the books that held the information she was looking for on the Jerro family and Ammon Jerro's Haven, most of the book crumpled and torn and singed by the time the last remaining gith was summarily decapitated and/or disemboweled. The only (mostly) unmarked page was a family tree, dates of birth and death carefully inked under each name but one at the very bottom of the page: one Shandra Jerro.

"Shandra?" Neeshka said. "Isn't that the girl in Highcliff? With the flammable barn?"

Lyssi was too busy creating new and inventive phrases to answer right away, some that Khelgar and her uncle would have either been proud of or taken soap to her mouth for. "Either way," she finally said, "we've got to get everyone together and go after them."

"Ya think?!"

It took longer than Lyssi would've liked to get to Highcliff, the only reason they weren't triple-timing it down the Sword Coast on foot or horseback being that Captain Flinn was headed in the same direction, himself, and had just enough room on the Double Eagle. With the stipulation that Khelgar stayed below deck with his feed bag.

The problem with traveling by boat, Lyssi quickly remembered after they'd cast off, was that there was nearly nothing to do but think and attempt to hide from overzealous and preachy paladins who wanted to talk about nothing but Old Owl Well or scold her for her close association with a tiefling thief for the umpty-first time. Grobnar had been a godsend there. "Bardic business" was the quickest way to chase off anyone who might even think about intruding into the conversation, as it seemed that Lyssi was the only one who didn't seem to find the gnome at the same level of "tolerable" as a toothache. She liked the little guy.

Unfortunately, the chances to avoid Casavir only lasted until the last morning before they docked at Highcliff, when Lyssi was forced to gather her companions for a small briefing.

"The plan," she said when everyone was gathered and Khelgar's stomach at least slightly settled, "is fairly simple. Shandra Jerro's farm is less than a mile out of Highcliff proper. We don't know if the gith have made off with her yet, or if they've even managed to locate her - though somehow I doubt that they haven't. We go in, look around, make sure Shandra's alive and well if nothing else and, if the gith haven't shown up, set up watch on the farm and ambush them for a change. If the gith are there, well," she smirked, "we'll do what Khelgar does best."

Qara rolled her eyes. "Lose our lunches?"

Lyssi shot the sorceress a dark look. "I was thinking more along the lines of removing the gith from the mortal coil. And no fire spells! I'm not sure we'll get an entirely friendly reception from her to begin with, and we do NOT need to make things worse."

"Killjoy."

"I try."

A warm reception, Qara couldn't help thinking, was the last thing that Prissy-Lyssi should've worried about. Oh, sure, the farm girl was wailing away about her poor house and her poor barn. But as much of a pain in the rump as the githyanki were turning into, she had to admire the fireworks.

Nothing as good as hers, of course, but there was an artistry to pyrotechnics, something that the rest of the powerless peons around her just didn't seem to get. But they'd get theirs someday, right? Of course.

"Fine!" The farm girl certainly didn't sound thrilled. Not that Qara was much thrilled to be dealing with such mundane trifles, herself. "What now, then? Tell me you at least have somewhere safe?"

"My uncle's tavern," Prissy said. "The Sunken Flagon, in Neverwinter; you'll be safe there."

"Neverwinter! The only safe place you can think of is in Neverwinter?"

Qara was slightly confused, herself. Prissy thought that place was safe? That wood caught fire far too easily to be perfectly "safe."

She didn't catch what Prissy said, but whatever it was had the farm girl slumping and letting out a huge and forlorn sigh. "Fine. Lead on."

Now, the sorceress couldn't help thinking as the last of the raiding gith disappeared through the portal or crisped into ash on the Flagon's floor, would "I told you so" be an appropriate sentiment for their fearless leader?