Baldur 39-s Gate 3 -
Lae’zel lifted the blade. Turned it. The fire traced the cord’s red line like a pulse.
She smiled. It was small—a crack in obsidian, a hairline fracture of warmth. She strapped the longsword to her hip, tested the draw, and nodded once.
“You… scavenged this,” Lae’zel said slowly. baldur 39-s gate 3
“I know.” Karlach reached behind her pack and pulled out a bundle wrapped in stained cloth. She tossed it onto the dirt between them. It landed with a heavy, iron clink.
“Open it.”
They had lost the ghaik ’s ship, its twisted metal corridors, its brine-soaked horrors. But they had also lost gear. Lae’zel’s backup longsword had shattered against a hook horror’s carapace two nights ago. Since then, she had fought with only her greatsword—a magnificent, cruel thing—but Karlach noticed the imbalance. The way Lae’zel adjusted her stance for a strike that never came.
The silence stretched. Shadowheart’s prayer faltered. Astarion looked up from his book. Lae’zel lifted the blade
“Pulled it out of a drider’s hoard while you were busy decapitating said drider.” Karlach shrugged, but her tail curled with embarrassment. “Fixed the edge. Re-wrapped the grip. The cord is just—well. I figured if you’re going to be killing mind flayers beside me, you might as well have something that doesn’t look like it was fished out of a latrine.”
“You’re missing something,” Karlach said. She smiled
Lae’zel’s amber eyes narrowed. “I am missing nothing , teething. I need only this blade to carve our path to the creche. To the zaith’isk. To purification .”
Two points of failure, she thought.
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