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Lorenzo is finally dead. Good fucking riddance.
What was once an imposing and cruel man that turned out to not be a man but a fucking oni… was left as nothing more but a pile of charred charcoal, scattered across this deepest basement floor of the Sour Nest.
Beau looks past her shoulder, her face still stinging from that sucker-punch of a slash Lorenzo had dealt when invisible. She spots Caleb leaning against the stairs, holding an arm close to his bloodied chest as if his innards were about to spill out.
“You okay, Caleb?” Beau asks of the wizard.
Caleb just stares numbly at the remains of Lorenzo and mutters, “You shouldn’t have killed my cat.”
It’s almost enough to make Beau want to laugh, astonished that — as usual — Caleb would place his beloved Frumpkin higher on his priorities than, you know, avenging a trusted friend who died to get them here. But that urge is dampened by the sounds of Keg crying tears of relief and catharsis. There are also the hushed voices of Shakaste, Caduceus, and Nott as they slowly hobble together, checking in.
Behind Caleb, Beau can see the dwarven father and child from earlier descending down the stairs. They had seemingly managed to free themselves, thankfully.
A pang of emotion hits Beau hard as she is reminded of Nila and her family. She looks at the red feather tied to her bo staff and smiles wistfully. That gentle soul of a woman went full mama bear and had gone through hell to get her husband and son back, just as the Mighty Nein did. She was also a maternal figure that Beau came to like. She can only hope that one day their paths will cross again.
"Is it over? Is it safe?" The father of the child asks Caleb.
“It's better than it was,” the wizard assures him.
As the others congregate, Shakäste speaks up. Even with his blindness, his eyes shine with empathy. “It will be. It's absolutely better than it was, but I think you should thank these people who came down into the catacombs. This is the second time that I've come across these people and they've gone from fresh air into dark, dank air for no other reason than to find people and to help them out. They're special as far as I'm concerned and you should remember them.”
The blind cleric turns to the others as the Duchess flitters to the hand holding his cane. “So what do we call you? I mean, you're obviously—”
“I think we're all still The Mighty Nein,” Beau speaks up, using her staff to brace herself while leaning against the wall. Fucking Lorenzo nearly killed her good. “Though the Mighty Nein seems pretty amorphous at this point.”
“You know, we thought it would be a joke in the beginning, it kind of stuck,” Caleb mutters as if he’s in a far away headspace. He’s even laughing. Probably due to the blood loss, as indicated by his arm awash with crimson and the gash beneath. “It doesn't make any sense…”
He keeps muttering gibberish in Zemnian as he staggers away and sits on the overturned table. Beau just shakes her head before wincing in pain. In fact, the left side of her face is still stinging as she grabs hold of a flap of her Cobalt Soul vestments to wipe away more blood, now more purple than blue due to the blood already spattered all over her.
She considers herself lucky that it was at best a glancing blow or else she’d be blind in that eye now. In hindsight, she probably should’ve worn her goggles to protect her eyes. But at the very least, she’ll end up with a rather badass scar.
A scar that will be a memento. For you, Molly.
Another stray thought enters her weary mind, exhausted from the flash freezing of a Cone of Cold and from her own blood loss. Even if she had worn her goggles, they’d end up broken. But still nothing a nice Mending can’t fix.
If only she can find the person among their group who could use it…
“May I, missy?”
Beau is brought out of her darkening thoughts as Shakäste extends a hand toward her face. She gives a soft nod of consent as he moves her unbound hair aside and uses a healing spell to dull the pain.
“Shakäste, did you say something about making all this better than what it was?”
Just saying those words feels like a knife to the gut… or to be more frank, a glaive to the chest. Sure enough, she notices the discarded glaive that took out Molly and damn near took out her eye as well, along with her sliced hair ribbon.
The ominously-looking eye made of blood surrounded by the ribbon halves is a little unsettling, as are his earlier words: “Oh, the horrors you’ll see.”
Fuck you, Lorenzo. Again.
“Well, that's what I've been trying to do,” Shakäste replies to her. “I've been doing it a long time on my own; it feels good to know that there are other people out here doing the same. You know? It can get a little crazy talking to a little bird all the time.”
The conversation extends to discussions of morality and doing the right thing just because they could, but Beau is zoning out a little. She’s so tired and hurt. If she was more out of it, she wouldn’t bother hiding it. But today can be an exception.
A movement out of the corner of her eye and Beau notices that Shakäste is gathering the remaining captives of the Shepherds and is escorting them topside and out of the Sour Nest, leaving the five of them there. Now all that was left was to find their friends in here and they had already stalled too long.
As Caduceus is standing off to the side and conversing with Nott and Caleb, Beau notices Keg staying where she is. Not the best time for conversation, but…
“We still haven't found your partner. He's not here yet, right?”
Keg shakes her head, not even bothering to relight the cigarette that had gone out after the Cone of Cold chilled most of them to the core. “It was a pie in the sky thing. I'm sure he's long gone. Let's get your friends out of here, huh?”
Beau nods as she takes hold of her staff and limps her way to the others. “So… what are you going to do? Are you going to keep looking?”
“I don't know what I'm going to do.” Keg’s gaze wanders over to the glaive… and the remains of its once-living wielder. “I've only been thinking about killing that son of a bitch now. I don't really know what my life is going to be like. I'll probably go on a nice drunken bender for a while, and then when I come to, I'll figure something out.”
“Do either of you want to come with?” Caleb asks her and Caduceus, as Shakäste had already left.
Keg looks rather flustered in trying to respond. Caduceus just shakes his head, clearly not the drinking kind… at least in terms of alcohol.
But that aside, Beau can tell that what Keg needs more than anything is a distraction. If anything, she could use one too.
“At least for a drunken bender. Tonight, you want to stay with me? You can sneak out in the morning, if you want. It won't be weird.” She then flashes Keg what she hopes to be a charming smile.
Surprisingly, it works. Keg is clearly aroused… and at a loss for words before regaining her senses and babbling. “Yeah, that sounds good. Yeah, totally! Cool, cool, cool, cool.”
Still got it.
“What was it that Shakäste just said? Get yourself something nice?”
All Keg is able to do is stutter and stammer and the five of them share a few brief laughs… until they remember where they are and what they came here to do.
Gathering themselves, Beau, Nott, and Caduceus approach the cells in the back as Caleb remains on the table. Keg herself hangs back, not wanting to intrude. After all, she was still a part of the Shepherds once, and it was indirectly due to her cowardice that they ended up losing a friend.
Nott approaches the door to the cell and inspects the lock before pulling out her picks. Her hands shake, Beau notices, clearly affected by her failures earlier and worried that it will be for nothing.
That is, until a single swift click and creak sound out all over the basement room. She can’t help but let out a shrill shout of victory.
“After you,” Caduceus says to the rogue as he steps aside to let her in. And Beau is about to step in as well, noticing that an unconscious Fjord and Jester are inside, gagged and manacled like the other prisoners… until something catches her notice on the edge of her periphery.
“Case closed,” she hears Nott say softly as the two occupants are roused from their slumber. Conversation is had between the three of them.
But surprisingly, they are not Beau’s primary concern at the moment. Filtering out the voices from within, she uses her staff to brace herself as she limps to the only remaining locked cell at the back of the room.
Her heart is hammering as she glances inside the chamber and sees a singular figure on the opposite side of the wall, chained up. A singular, motionless figure.
No. Oh gods, no. Please…
Taking hold of a candelabra that miraculously survived the battle, she lets her eyes adjust and pulls the light source close.
Gray tunic, tattered trousers, a bloodied feathered shawl, blood-matted black hair going to white. The figure inside is all too familiar.
And it is an image that will haunt her for the rest of her days as she clasps her hands over her mouth in shock, struggling not to cry.
Yasha.
All of a sudden, any thoughts of staying calm and strong vanish as she reaches for her picks and despite some fumbling she eventually unlocks the cell. She swings the door wide open and doesn’t even bother with using her staff as a crutch. Even when she stumbles and falls, she resorts to mad crawling to reach her.
Instinctively, she checks for a pulse.
There is one, thank gods. And she is breathing as well.
But that is the end of the good news as Beau takes in her condition.
She looks pretty brutalized. There are gashes and tear marks in the flesh where hooks were pulled through, there are streaks of dried blood on her. But thankfully, she's not unconscious within an inch of her life. She's a hardy woman, and she's endured a lot and then some, but she is still lying here in this otherwise empty cell within the Sour Nest, an unconscious and physically broken mess, still bound in manacles.
Beau is at a loss for words… except for two.
“CALEB! DEUCES!”
The rest of their time in the Sour Nest is not any better after that, not after they had to break the bad news about Mollymauk. The former captive members of the Nein, the ones who were wide awake, recounted their brief experiences here, noting that Yasha took the brunt of the punishment. She had clearly done it for Fjord and Jester.
Yasha was still unconscious, even after being healed by Jester and being free of those manacles. Not even a full night’s sleep would be enough for her to wake up. Apparently the manacles would put someone to sleep for a full 24 hours after being activated, so it hadn’t faded yet.
And as much as they had both hoped to make their one night a distraction, it was only that: a distraction. And as Beau noticed Keg donning her armor and making her way out of the bedroom, it was only a few seconds later when she let out a deep, deep sigh.
She had found a letter from Keg, even though all it said was “Thanks”. And it made Beau feel as if she succeeded in helping Keg find some solace.
But even so, she still can’t help but feel hollow and guilty.
Making all this better than what it was…
Leaving every place better than what you found it…
Beau just lays in bed, thinking over and over about what the point was, all alone in the room with only the morning light creeping through the windows to keep her company.
And for the first time since they buried their friend… she weeps.
She weeps for Fjord and Jester. She weeps for Nila and her tribe. She weeps for Molly.
But for Yasha, whose image had haunted her dreams the other night, bloodied and brutalized… she weeps for her the most.
When she finally has no more tears to shed, Beauregard Lionett pulls herself together and grabs her clothes and gear.
She’s going to be strong. She’s going to protect them. She can’t afford to lose them.
And she won’t lose these people.
Never again.