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Chapter Text

Aegis hit the waking world with a pounding headache. She couldn't move. Her leg was in a splint and her knee felt like a stampede had gone over it. She was still in clothing that had gotten sprayed with a nose full of someone else's blood.

A purple imp leaned over her, eyes mischievous. "So on a scale from one to elevensies," Imoen chirped, "how bad's the hangover?"

Memories lined up in a row and smacked Aegis in the face. "Bar fight," she moaned in guilt and trepidation. She tried to sit up. Nope. Definitely pulled a muscle. Shit.

"Yuppers!" Imoen cooed, sitting upright and showing off her arm in a sling. "Watchers showed up and hauled everyone off, ole Puffguts boxed me round the ears but forgot to empty my pockets, it was great!"

Nope. No. Definitely not great. Aegis was in so much trouble. She tried to evaluate her odds of survival if she dragged herself out a window. "S'Ulraunt heard?" she croaked, surveying the room for an escape route that didn't exist.

"Oh he's already outside," Imoen intoned, expression going less than chipper. "He and old Mr. G's been arguing for the last hour."

"No-ho-hoh...." Aegis moaned drearily, as Imoen patted her shoulder in solidarity. "I'm sorry papa..."

"Well you'll get to tell him that soon enough yourself!" Imoen trilled gaily as she skipped up to the door to listen in on it, "But hey, look at the bright side: It's not as bad as collapsing the scaffolding for the new storehouse! Uh, but maybe only half as accidental..."

There were times Candlekeep was a too small and dainty for a girl well over two yards in height. And sure enough, if she focused through her hangover, she could hear an argument. Ulraunt, Candlekeep's Keeper of Tomes, sounded pissed. Gorion's calmer tones were almost entirely eclipsed.

"He's not mad at you, right?" Aegis suddenly needed to check.

"Mostly you, like always," Imoen whispered loudly from the door, and gave a dramatic eye-roll. "But whatcha worried about? You know Mr. G can't stay mad with ya! Now my Da, he'll be havin me on latrine duty all month, you'll see! I'll try arguin' 'I'm a grown lass now, you can't punish me, I'm nineteen' and he'll say 'otch, nineteen are ya, weyll, guess that means you'll be payin' rent now,' and I'll have to say 'Sir,  yes sir,' and simper off and do as I'm told." she gave a conspiratorial wink. "Not gonna tell him I worked out the cantrip for that yet, are ya?"

Aegis showed her crossed fingers. The argument kept going. And going. And going.

"Geeze! What I don't get," muttered Imoen testily, "Is why Old Grumpypuss is bothering himself over something so dumb. It was a bar fight; nobody died!"

"I think that's setting the 'bar' a little low," Aegis lamented (and punned, but Imoen didn't necessarily catch it).

"He ain't pulling no punches either!" Her voice went up all shrill but quiet, "'At every turn, evidences a systematic, broad-form, chaotic, glaring disrespect for life, limb, and property...!'"

"Gee," sighed Aegis, "he makes my left hook sound so cunningly refined and deviously well-planned."

"Pssh, more like a bull got loose in a china shop! Then again I guess we did overturn every table in the joint and almost light the inn on fire. Took four people to pull you and that old dwarf apart! You totally broke his nose!"

Aegis tried to ooze out of her sickbed and melt into a puddle of embarrassment and guilt that could sink through the floorboards. 

The argument outside stopped.

A gentle knock came at their door.

"Come in!" Imoen hollered as she hopped deftly back into her bed (and gave away that she'd been out of it by the loud unoiled spring noises it made). 

The door slowly open, and Gorion stepped quietly in.

Imoen had always felt Gorion was made of equal parts elderly kindness and an oft-hidden youthful mischief. He had the face one might expect on a grandfather, sure, but there was something wry and alert in how he looked at ya.

He'd always taken her jokes, pranks, and 'borrowings' in good humor, that was for sure, and would banter with her Da at the bar like they were old friends. His hair was long, gray, and neat, and he had it tied back as was usual in the summer. His beard was shorty and tidy. Always clean, but not in a stuffy way: That was Gorion. 

And with them both in trouble, he leaned in the doorway, and let out a breath through his nose, and looked at both of them with eyelids at half mast.

Like he was half exasperated, half amused.

No yelling, no yelling at all, but did that make Aegis happy? Nope! The quiet only made Ae look like she wanted to wither away to dust faster. Doh.

"Who wants to talk first?" he asked them, and Imoen raised her uninjured hand and waved it around like she was one of the mage students in the central class rooms. 

"Ooh me, me, me!"

"Imoen."

"A patron slapped me on the butt! Ae was only into her third pint, but just swung right around on her stool and punched his beard clean off! It was hil-ar-i-ous, and justly deserved, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise! Ain't her fault he punched back!"

Gorion looked at the floor because he was smiling, and didn't want to make either of them feel like he was agreeing with their course of action. "Be that as it may," he said, stepping in further and shutting the door behind him, "violence is prohibited in Candlekeep."

"But it wasn't really violent violence!" Imoen insisted. "She just broke his nose!"

"I believe you both," he told them. "But, unfortunately, that doesn't change the proper way to behave in these walls. You had other recourses."

Aegis finally defended herself, or maybe just apologized: "I didn't really mean to hurt him," she said. "Or start a fight. But it was loud, and he'd been raunchy all-"

"I understand," Gorion said, sitting down at the edge of her bed. "But quite a number of people, you and Imoen included, ended up in an infirmary last night." He gave Imoen a glance, lest she thought she'd gotten away with that whole 'not really violent violence' bit. "Despite your best of intentions, punching a dwarvish bar patron does have a way of turning into a drunken tavern brawl."

"It takes a more than three pints to get me drunk," Aegis mumbled.

"It takes less than that to take the edge off your wisdom," her da countered cleverly, and down Aegis melted again. Bah. She and Imoen had heard this lecture before, and they knew he was right; Candlekeep was too filled with twiggy wizards for Aegises to be throwing punches around.

(And maybe a bit too stuffy for bored girls, but woops that was slightly different!)

Gorion chuckled at his daughter's face. He reached out and smoothed yellow waves of hair from her face. "You think I don't understand, my child? I'm an old man; I've seen and done much in my time." He winked. "I know an ale or two puts limitations on my judgement just the same. Next time you're in a situation, spare a thought for how much I worry about you?"

"I'm sorry," said Aegis adorably miserably. She was always wayyyyy more sorry for shenanigans than Imoen ever was. But then Imoen tended to get caught less, true!

"I know you are," he patted her arm, and then straightened to encompass Imoen in what he had to say next, "But, that doesn't change that the two of you are in terrible trouble. You'll be helping Withrop clean up the inn, and then there are some particularly unpleasant cattle-related chores for you to complete."

Aegis bobbed her head; Imoen groaned dramatically and flopped over in bed like she'd just died.

"As for the visitor you accosted... well, Ulraunt is still deciding how to handle the situation. The priests were able to heal him, and no lasting harm was done, but we do have rules against violence here for a reason. Were you not my daughter, the situation would be much worse."

[Dream/Memory]

Aegis was only three, but already rambunctious. He found her antics endearing. She was vivacious; filled with life. She leaped about the grounds, pouncing on grasshoppers, and chasing after birds; rolling in the flower beds, doing all manner of somersault and spinning herself to play with vertigo. These days, when the sun was warm and the breeze off the ocean mild, were the best. Wintertime would be upon them soon, and keep her cooped up inside, where it was a struggle to keep her mentally stimulated.

But today? Today she'd play, and play, and play, and once she'd depleted enough energy she'd come and climb into his lap and ask him to read. All stories were fair game: He would read to her about far off kingdoms, or different species of wild animal. Until she was ready, he'd read essays, or study new spell forms; and in between he'd occasionally receive letters and compose replies.

'T - I'm looking to find good homes for both a collection of dolls and a miniature tea set, courtesy of A's utter disinterest in them. -G"

He glanced wryly after his daughter, and then sent off magical letter. The sun had left its zenith and was heading towards the west. The shadows it cast were long with autumn. The leaves were just starting to turn from green to yellow.

Aegis was still off playing, but Gorion felt a toddler climb into his lap nonetheless. He looked down to find Imoen there, and she popped up between him and his spellbook and slapped her hands flat against the pages, leaning so close to look at the runes her nose almost touched the page.

"Why hello there," he chuckled. "Did Winthrop send you out to play?"

"Ya," Imoen told him. "What's this one?"

"Well-"

The high-pitched yowl interrupted them, and Gorion jolted upright, dropping his spellbook and slinging Imoen safely to a seat on the ground.

"Aegis-?"

There she was, on all fours and doing something she most definitely shouldn't. He bolted for her, already half aware of what he'd find. And sure enough: There she was, straddling a large house cat, her hands wrapped around it's throat, squeezing. "Aegis!"

That cat was of course having none of this, writhing frantically and slashing at her with all four of its paws, but Aegis just smiled, staring down at it as if in a daze.

"Aegis!" He sunk to the grass beside her, and grabbed her shoulders to shake them. "Aegis, let go!"

She didn't listen. Didn't seem to hear. And what was the point of forcibly compelling her? If he had to physically tear her away from this, if she could not overcome it, then his efforts were already in vain. She was three. 

"Aegis," he repeated firmly. "Aegis look at me."

She did, slowly, hazily, smiling. The color surely drained from his own face, but he did not force her, and he did not release her, even with her forearms in ribbons.

"Let go," he repeated firmly. "Aegis, for me, let go. Let go."

Her hands loosened, and her brow furrowed; the cat acrobatically removed itself from her grip and shot off across the lawn. He loosed a shaky breath.

"Aegis, what have you done?" The anxiety must have bubbled up from within him because he was asking her questions he already knew the answers to: That she lacked a choice because he was somehow failing in giving her one. "Why would you do that?" he asked her.

"It's fun!" she exclaimed, but her expression was falling as she searched his face and perhaps marked the curves of his mouth. She did not know what anguish was; perhaps she conflated it with disappointment; perhaps all she knew was that her father was upset. "Papa?"

"You were hurting her, Aegis. You've hurt yourself...!"

But instead of letting him fuss, her child put her hands to his face, as if heedless of her own injuries or the blood she was smearing on his robes. Her brows were furrowed in intense concentration.  He deflated slightly, holding her gaze and pulling her into his lap: Her, this beautiful and horrible child that he would always adore and needed to protect, once more covered in blood.

She touched his face. She touched the curves of his mouth, and the wrinkles of his eyes. "Bad?" she asked, sounding genuinely baffled. "No?"

"You hurt that cat, Aegis," he murmured, unable to prevent depression from leaking into his tone as he fished out a healing potion to dab her wounds with. "You love cats."

"They're the best!" Aegis agreed, showing indifference to her injuries as he patted them with healing liquor. "Cats are the best!"

"Yet you've hurt her," he tried to make her understand, but the only emotion she displayed was confusion. "You should not hurt her. Aegis, you should always take care of the things you love, and guard them from harm. That way, they will always be there for you. I think you are the best, Aegis. How would you feel if I hurt you?"

She frowned more and more. Perhaps she could not see the connection between herself and the cat.

"You love me, right Aegis?" he fished, looking for something, anything she'd understand

"Of course!" she agreed, her little voice so cute, so innocent. "I love you this big!"  she held out her arms.

"Would you want to hurt me?" 

His question didn't seem to make any sense to her, but immediately her face scrunched up.  "No! No, no, no!" she told him, sounding disturbed and confused but also very alarmed. Her breathing picked up; she could tell this was very serious.

"What if I was a cat?" he asked her.

"No no no no no no!"

"Please do not hurt cats, just as you would not hurt me...!"

She didn't like any of this. "I say that I'm sorry!" she told him. "And- and then I don't do again. Papa? Papa! You can't be sad, cause-cause I said I was sorry!"

Gorion bundled her in a tight hug with one arm and rocked with her. She snuggled into his arms, worried and unhappy and confused. She smothered her face in his shoulder.

"I love you Papa," she mumbled. "I'm sorry. I'm really big sorry. Big like the library, except bigger."

[Present]

Starlight filtered through the windows of his spartan bedroom. The faint red of dawn hovered far on the eastern horizon. He surmised it was about time to wake up anyway, stretched, and lit his nightstand candlebra so he could see for the next hour or so before the dawn had fully arrived.

He took his time in dressing himself. The slate blue floors were chilly, but the month of Mirtul had nearly passed. A few rays of distant morning stretched across the floor.

He left his room and peered into Aegis'. There were two cats and an owl on top of her, a cat in the windowsill, a pair of squirrels fussing on the wall, and an exceptionally large butterfly with one missing wing replaced by a gull feather drinking sugar water from a small dish.

He paused there, and watched her sleep. Admiring her flaws. Admiring her triumphs. Admiring her as only a parent could.

He would definitely not be telling her the dwarf had been laughing his ass off in the infirmary, calling it the best bar fight he'd had all year.

Chapter Text

[Memory]

They hunkered around in the brush beside an old broken stump, checking their weapons, waiting for Fuller to return. Aegis's favorite hatchet was useless for hunting; she had it strapped to her waist, but a spear in her hands. Winthrop had his longbow. Imoen, wee brat, loved to skimp out on hard work whenever possible; at seventeen, she had the grace of a dancer but all the strength of an overcooked noodle, and the short bow was more appropriate to her ability.

By contrast, Aegis had shoulders more suited to a boy her age, and was growing into an athletic young woman. In Candlekeep, her days started with arduous training regiments to help her burn through excess energy; her tutors had finally approved of the switch to afternoon classes only after they'd noticed it had dramatically improved her attention span. Heh, and that was something which Winthrop had figured out. Gorion was the good sort, but he was a wizard. Some kids just needed to move first in order to think.

"The roe's ahead," Fuller told them as he crept back to where they were waiting.

"About time," Winthrop chuckled. He was red-faced and tired, and regretted giving into their demands for a hunting trip in the middle of this early autumn heat. Gods, but was he getting out of shape, ha! Though he only minded once he had to walk anywhere, that were the truth of it. He envied the girls; young people just had too much energy.

"S'okay Puffguts," his daughter chirped indolently, as if reading his mind. "You can get the fire goin; we'll nab the deer and be back in no time!" Winthrop swatted affectionately at her and she ducked with a giggle.

Aegis held up a hand to her mouth to hush them all, and smiled with a gleam in her eye. She hefted the hunting spear, and Imoen nocked an arrow to her bow, and then Fuller waved them forward, and they filtered quietly through the woodland undergrowth. Winthrop watched them from a few paces back, dabbing his forehead and wiping sweat from his fingertips and leaning perhaps a bit too heavily on his yew as a walking stick.

His trio of fellow hunters was almost out of sight when Aegis abruptly paused. She shifted her weight for a moment, and then knelt down and slowly picked up what looked to be scat. It was dried, long, and roughly the length of a man's calf.

Winthrop stiffened.

A squeal burst out from the underbrush on Imoen's side, so loud it dizzied the ears. A dark shape came with it, tusked and enormous; tattered log splinters, loose stones, and uprooted plants exploded outwards from it in twelve-foot high barrage of debris.

A boar. A dire boar. It was taller than Winthrop at the shoulder, and it was angry.

Winthrop kicked his bow up into grip, drew an arrow, nocked, and loosed.

"Imoen!" he warned.

He'd picked its heading true and it charged for her, heedless of their pinpricks. Imoen scrambled frantically away from it.  "Move!" Fuller was shouting as he loosed his first arrow and Winthrop fired his second.

The boar just about reached Imoen. It was that close. But then Aegis shot out of between them and threw threw herself headlong into the boar's meaty neck, not slowing down for an instant. Her spear must have sunk deep because the animal bellowed loud; but boars were craftier and quicker than their size suggested, especially in a ho-down: The creature skid, pivoted, and threw its weight violently into Aegis, trying to get her behind one or more of its hooves. Like as not, it had ripped the spear clear out of her hands.

"Aegis!"

"Get back!" Fuller was still urging Imoen he continued to fire. "Get back and keep hitting it!"

Lathander and Chauntea and every other god above and below save one! Griswold loosed another arrow. The boar was flailing, kicking, shaking its head in big angry 'scoops' in an effort to land a hit with its tusks.

"Aegis!"

Was she still upright? The whole swollen mass of the creature was in the way! If that thing got her under its hooves, it would crush her- it must have weighed three and a half solid tons...!

[Continued]

The boar dragged her. It was faster than them, especially while running, and when it grew annoyed with their arrows it charged off at a diagonal in an attempt to catch Aegis underfoot and trample her.

But Aegis had not and did not let go of her spear.

It dragged her, jabbed at her, and threw her about. It hit her into stumps, and pulled her into and then across a shallow creek. It punished her such that one might almost think she'd have been better of crushed, if not for the evidence she were still alive and hanging on. On the far side of the creek, it finally managed to disorient her, and her efforts to keep her feet below her and the spear in in her hands failed. But once it had thrown her down, and turned its head into her to gore her through the earth, Aegis apparently was still conscious, because the fight did not end. Winthrop, who was trying to get across the creek and who could see smears of blood on the river stones, surmised Aegis must have grabbed hold of its tusks and refused to let go.

By the gods, kid. However you're doing it, hold on.

The boar threw her around to the left and to the right, tried to trample her again, and then charged her forward until its wrath drove both of them headlong into a thicket of brambles.

Griswold Winthrop fired another arrow on it, and this time finally got a strike on something other than its fat ass. He watched his fletching disappear into its ear, and quickly drew another arrow.

The boar backed up a step. Then, with its sides coated in arrows, and with blood oozing from every wound, it seemed to think better of its course of action.  It gave a big shake of its head, tore free of the thicket with dislodged bramble plants still wrapped about its face and shoulders, and then promptly charged off in a new direction, snuffling unhappily.

"Aegis! Aegis!" Imoen was screaming. She had been screaming for awhile.

The three of them reached the thicket, where Aegis had been stuffed up near the roots of the plant. She was conscious and blinking dazedly. There were bruises and tears up her legs, and two thick bloody swaths of torn cloth along her ribs where a tusk had 'grazed' her but failed to penetrate.

"Ae!" Imoen was hysterical. "Ae we've got you! Don't you die!"

"Imm, move, move," Winthrop hushed and chastised his daughter as he crept under the brambles to get a healing potion to Aegis. She had most probably received several blows to the head, because he could see blood in her matted yellow hair. In fact she barely seemed to recognize him as he patted her mouth open and gave her the vial. "Kid? Can ye hear me?" he asked once she'd swallowed.

Aegis took stock of her surroundings and her condition. Then she frowned, and looked to him with an expression of innocent disappointment. "It's gone?" she croaked disbelievingly. "After all that, I don't even get any ham?"

Winthrop blinked. Then a loud, deep belly laugh hit him, and he couldn't stop laughing for a good half a minute afterwards; because Imoen ought to have been dead, and then Aegis ought to have been dead ten times over, and instead the latter wanted ham.

Aegis propped herself up weakly, and Imoen threw her arms around her neck and nearly knocked her over. When he could breathe again, Winthrop reached over to the broad-shouldered girl, and to his silly pink child, and he hugged them both as tightly as he knew how.

[Present]

"Ow! Hey, careful where you're swishing that!" Imoen protested. "Ya almost hit me straight in my sore arm!"

Aegis squinted at her surrogate sister, whom was seated in place. "If I almost hit your arm, why did you say 'Ow'?" 

"Because you almost hit it!" The Mischievous One replied, as if this ought to have made perfect sense to anyone.

Aegis, who was not hungover but who might possibly have been concussed, paused, leaned upon her mop, and gave her sister a longer gander.

Imoen Winthrop was perched on one of inn tables and eating her breakfast at a snail's pace. Her suspiciously low rate of food consumption was obviously not owed to her lacking a healthy appetite, as Imoen could eat for three. And Aegis wasn't about to pin the blame on Imoen's chatterbox nature either for she knew her sister lacked for manners and would happily talk with her mouth full of food. Indeed, all signs pointed to one explanation: Imoen was stalling to try and get Aegis to do all the work.

"I regret to inform you of this," intoned Aegis at last, "O' Ridiculously Pink Sister of Mine, but you are supposed to say 'Ow' when someone's actually hurt you. Not when they've almost hurt you."

"Pssh! What's the point in saying 'Ow' then? It's just a way of trying to pay more attention to what they're doing! Why bother saying 'Ow' if it's not going to have any effect?"

Aegis entertained her query. "To indicate a need for medical attention, or express a dislike for an action to be repeated?" she suggested.

"Ha! I prefer my preventative "Ow"s much more than your reactive ones, thank you very much. Mine keep me from getting hurt, and yours are just a form of whining!"

Aegis rolled her eyes, flipped up the mop, and pointed at her with the handle. "Get off your ass and help me mop."

"But I'm tired!" she whined. Then she leaned forward and assailed Aegis with The Enormous Puppy Eyes. "And my arm hurts! Cleaning up all the broken glass took hours and-"

Aegis settled back on her heels to stare. Imoen Big-Eyesed at her even harder. Aegis maintained the challenge. Imoen broke first and buried a snicker into her sleeve: The Enormous Puppy Eyes were entirely ineffective against the glowering might of Aegis-with-a-Headache.

"Okay, okay, I'm getting up, hold your horses!"

"Good, because we need to get Winthrop to let you off the hook before the hunting season ends.

"Oh don't be dunderheaded, it won't take that long! I know all the steps, got em down to an art! I could write a book on the topic, you know: "Imoen's Field Guide to the Buttering Up of Innkeepers!"

Aegis smirked. Candlekeep. Books. Maybe there were certain jokes that only worked within their (exceptionally small) friendship circle.

Imoen seized up a mop from the wall, but then swiveled around and peered mischievously at Aegis' back.

"No," Aegis said without even looking back at her.

"Killjoy," Imoen complained.

"When we're done," Ae amended. "Not before."

Griswold Winthrop found them in quite a state of activity: fencing with mops, with Imoen up balancing on the table and the back of a chair; one of them hollering about violet-clad harlots and the other about half-giant-drunkards. If the sprained arm or splinted leg were holding them back, they didn't seem to mind.

He leaned in the doorframe, eyeing them with a slow shake of his head.

Gorion, ye can't keep her cooped up here much longer, the innkeeper thought sadly. Ye either gotta let her go, or ye gotta go with her. Kid like that doesn't do well in stone walls.

Winthrop headed to the bar and set to serving up a proper lunch of meat, cheese, and bread for this rapscallion duo. They eventually noticed what he was doing and stopped their ridiculous play fighting. They cleaned up whatever small mess they'd made, righted the chairs, and then hurried up to the bar to eat. And of course they assailed him with with gratuitous apologies for wrecking his inn and distressing his patrons the night before.

Winthrop listened them as he wiped down his countertop. 

When Aegis leaves, I'd bet the inn's finest ale kegs that my Imoen'll follow her.

He paused in wiping the counter; dismay and age and tiredness sunk into his bones. Then he leaned back and looked down at himself, and at the enormous gut he'd been cultivating over the last twenty years of peace and hearty living. Unlike Gorion, Winthrop was in no shape to be leaving Candlekeep. If his daughter chose to sneak off after Aegis on some wild and crazy adventure, he'd be left behind with his inn. 

Bullocks, but they grew up so fast.

Aegis was the older sister, not necessarily because of the six month age gap between them, but rather because she was so much bigger and straight-faced. Winthrop's little pink varmint of a daughter was downright silly. Small, curious, and exceptionally bubbly. With her rounded face, wild brown hair, and upturned nose; she was the perfect picture of silly youth. But she was nineteen, and nineteen was also far too late for such a mischievous little thief to be still at home.

She'd be okay if she went out in the world, he attempted to reassure himself. True, she tended to put her nose everywhere it didn't belong, but half of that was probably because Candlekeep bored her. And she was decent enough with a bow that she might hold her own on the road. And it's never shown, like it has with Aegis. No one's ever gonna guess. Not if they stick together. 

If they stuck together. That there was a double edged sword. Aegis might eventually attract attention, depending on what the prophecies of Alaundo did or did not entail; and she was rowdy and a little foolish; on the other hand, she was good hearted, well-read, well-trained, and tough as nails. And Winthrop knew that, not just because she'd held her own against a Dwarven Defender, but mostly on account of the times he and Fuller had taken the girls on brief hunting trips once they'd eclipsed their thirteenth birthdays...

Thinking of earlier days made him smile. Aegis noticed. She grinned at him, smearing sweaty hair out of her face. "Hey, um. Again, I'm sorry about yesterday, Winthrop. I know it was all my fault. You forgive me, right?"

"Wha?" he blinked, and then laughed. "Course I do." Aegis beamed. "Wont be serving ya any ale for a year, but course I forgive ya."

Aegis blinked and her mouth dropped into a lopsided expression. 'No alcohol? For a year?' He could almost see the calculations going on inside her head as she tried to determine what sort of chores she'd have to do to get him to revoke this prohibition. He laughed. "Ya ain't getting out of this one, girl."

"I'll cut firewood," she offered quickly. "I'll go get my hatchet right now! Firewood, lots and lots of firewood!"

"Ain't budging," The portly innkeeper repeated firmly.

"I'll do inventory. I'll clean the storage room of rats. I'll clean the nobles quarters. I'll do the laundry. I'll do the nobles' laundry-"

He raised a brow, amused.

Aegis slumped back likely relieved; she figured she'd found at least one suitable trade. She was probably looking forward to completing the rest of her chores and putting this whole matter behind her.

But that wasn't the way things happened at all. Because one day, not a week later, someone tried to kill her.

Chapter Text

It was raining; pouring. Lightning flashed, briefly illuminating a dark world otherwise obscured by the thickening storm. Aegis was outside of Candlekeep for the first time in two years, on what ought to have been a new, exciting, adventurous chapter of her life.

She stared vacantly off into the darkness.

She'd seen it. She'd seen the blade go through Gorion's body. She had watched him die.

Rain gushed around her, pattering over the tree leaves, tapping away in splatters at her hood and shoulders, feeling like droplets of blood. She sat in the embrace of claw-like roots, 'neath an old and twisted crab-apple tree. Where else was there to hide? Where else was there to run? The forest stretched endlessly, and the storm had choked out the moon.

"Run, child! Run!"

Ogres. A mage. A horned man with a patrician voice in bone-tipped armor. Magic bursting left and right.

How could Gorion be dead? Other people came and went, but never him. He was Important, Invincible, Constant. She'd seen him die: seen him jerk, his hair falling into his face and his eyes wide, with that wavy flamberge shoved clear through him, and red blooming down his robes.

Somewhere out there, the monstrous knight who had killed her father was still looking for her.

Let him find me.

Let me kill him.

Let me kill him, or die trying!

No tears came down to mix with the raindrops. She rocked herself. A spell—some kind of protective spell—yet shimmered invisibly across her skin. Gorion had cast it on her just before they'd left Candlekeep walls, and she didn't know how long it would last. Was it all that kept her hidden? Safe?

"Surrender your ward," a horned knight had said, his flamberge resting casually on his shoulder and his armor studded with bone. "If you resist it will be a waste of your life."

She couldn't beat the horned knight if he found her. Not if Gorion had been outmatched. The knight's armor had probably been enchanted, and he'd been accompanied by a spellcaster who had doubtless prepared him with spells to bolster his strength. To say nothing of his sword, which had all but breathed an aura of sickly, golden light.

Gorion died because of me. To protect me.

Lightning flashed.

A child's feet pattered through the halls. She was just old enough to finally realize that a storm was going on outside, and it terrified her. "Papaaaa!" she called desperately. "Papaaaaaaa!" Tears welled; her face was heated. She looked here and there, left and right, and yet no protective guardian was anywhere to be found. She was alone. Completely alone.

She dropped to the ground and began to wail. She cried, and cried, until suddenly warm arms were around her, picking her off the ground, holding her close.

"Aegis! Aegis. What is this all about, mm?"

She whirled to press her face into him, because he'd been gone, but now he was present; he would come, he would always come. He chuckled overhead and wiped dry her nose and eyes with the hem of his robe. A clap of thunder rocked through the air and Aegis squealed in horror. He realized the source of her distress, and laughed.

"Aegis," he chuckled. "It's okay... It is only lightning. It will not hurt you. It's outside, see?"

"I don't like it!" she wailed. "Make it stop!"

"You can't stop lightning," he told her wryly, with a gentle smile, and then sat down on an armchair to cradle her. "You can't stop nature. But don't worry, I wont let it get you. See? Nothing bad is happening. It's just a little loud, a little bright- nothing more." He rubbed her back. The attention and the reassuring sounds made the phenomena less frightening, more knowable. Even so, at the next clap of thunder she buried herself further into his robes.

He put his arms completely around her, shutting out the light with his sleeves and, in her mind, keeping her safe. She breathed in and out deeply for a few minutes, wincing at every clap of thunder, before slowly poking her head out to look at the windows.

They flashed a ghastly white, and the thunder rumbled. She tilted her head to the side.

Gorion smiled and stroked over her hair, letting her know that he was there "There... A storm can be quite pleasant to watch on a nice evening. The clouds rolling in, and the rain pattering all around... broken occasionally by the rumble of thunder, the crack of lightning... Just because something is frightening to some people, doesn't mean it needs to be frightening to us."

Almost twenty years later she could still imagine her father's heartbeat, and that sensation of safety, of orientation, of serenity. She clung to it now, even though Gorion was dead. She clung to it, bitterly, needlingly; clung to the notion that even the most terrifying of things could be calmly acknowledge, accepted, observed, and rendered harmless.

Overhead the crack and boom of angry lightning felt sympathetic instead of cruel.

When the first breaths of dawn crept over the horizon, the trees were still dripping in water. Aegis had zoned out upright long ago, but the trick of light had her looking up slowly past her hood. The word was quiet, but little birds had begun rustling somewhere. Had she slept? Not exactly, though she'd certainly lost all awareness of time...

How many hours had it been? How late into the evening—or how far towards morning—had the ambush happened? And how had the armored warrior ever found her and Gorion in the first place? That last was an utterly unanswerable question; she knew very little of magic. Did the horned man have a magical means of tracking her? 

No. If he had, magical or otherwise, he would have found her and done away with her.

Aegis stood, slowly, because there was nothing else to do. Water poured in rivulets off the folds of her cloak. She looked East, towards the rest of Faerun and the rising sun.

"It is imperative that you make your way to the Friendly Arm Inn."

She looked back to the West... towards darkness, and towards Candlekeep. She wondered if the horned man might still be back there, somewhere, combing the forest for sign of her.

Aegis wanted to go home. She wanted to curl up by her fireplace with her cats. She wanted Gorion to read her stories and chastise her for her misbehavior. She wanted back that steadily worsening frustration of being caged behind four walls when everything in her knew she ought to be outside. But if Gorion wasn't there, Candlekeep wasn't home.

So she needed to move forward.

But, instead, she moved back.

This was stupid. She was lost. She needed to turn around.

Aegis had run blindly through a forest the night before, in the witching hour, for miles, until the occluded sky had blocked all light and she'd nearly smacked head-on into a tree. Now, she had no idea where she was going, except to know that 'West' was the wrong direction. West was the ocean. And West was the direction she was heading.

South was the Lion's way, which led east, and east meant The Friendly Arm where Gorion's friends would be waiting.

This was an endless forest of trees, birch and pine and oak, not one of which looked any different from any another. There were no landmarks by which to tell location or heading. There was no way to know where the ambush had even taken place, much less a means by which she might navigate back to it.

But she was not, actually, lost.

She remembered: They'd been just beside the channel, which Gorion had insisted upon following instead of sticking to the road. They'd turned east just before reaching the heights, and the place where the channel was met by a stream.

Abruptly, Aegis found her own trail: A place she'd tripped. She leaned over and grasped at the churned earth, and then kept walking. She hurried. Were there other signs? Yes. Here, a deer she'd startled had left a trail. There, the water had filled footprints.

And, at last...

... she stepped out into a vast clearing, with stones arranged in consecutive circles. At first, nothing about this seemed familiar to her, and she lamented that the terrain had not been one of the things seared into her memory. But then she saw the crumbled body of an ogre, slumped over the stones, and she knew she had made it back to the sight of the ambush.

A reverent hush fell over her.

"Eya!" called a voice from behind her. She nearly jumped out of her skin and whirled around to find a short, pink-clad, very familiar individual running headlong across the grass to reach her. "Aegis!" Imoen called before smacking clear into her. Aegis was (metaphorically) nearly bowled over. "You're alive!" Im wailed. "You're alive, you're alive, you're alive!"

"I-Imoen-?" Aegis whispered, pushing the girl back a few inches that she might have a better look at her.

It was Imoen, and she met her stare with wide eyes and blurted: "I thought you'd be dead! I thought he'd got you both for sure!"

"Imoen," Aegis repeated, dazed. "Where-? Why-? How are you here?"

"I snuck out and tailed ya, silly!" the pink girl sniffled, wiping at her face with her forearm. Then she gave a crooked smile she clearly only half felt "C'mon, don't tell me you've struck yourself daft? Since when do I listen to my elders? I couldn't let you go out into the world alone!"

Aegis stared at her for a long moment. Then she threw both of her arms around her little sister, and squeezed the pink girl so tight she plucked her off her feet. She very nearly twirled her about; Imoen Winthrop was one hell of a sight for sore eyes...

"Oof! Ae! Ow! Ae, your new armor's not exactly comfortable," Imoen cackled through tears, but she hugged Aegis back all the same.

"Oghma," Aegis croaked. "Imoen, what have you done...?" She slowly released her sister, and stared down at her wondrously. Was there any sense in trying to send her back Candlekeep? Without a reentry permit, and past the age of majority, that rotter Ulraunt might not even let her in.

"I'm okay! And you're okay, you're okay, Ae. Okay. Wow. Then-then we need go to the Friendly Arm, like old Mr. G. said! I think he suspected you guys might be ambushed; maybe his friends will know more about whoever that evil knight was!"

Aegis winced, and looked slowly over Imoen's shoulder at where bodies were still visible. "You overheard that?"

"Uh, well I totally didn't steal into Gorion's study and peek at any letters, uh-uh, not me! Not even if that letter said anything important. Nope!"

"Letter?" Aegis focused back on her diminutive companion who, most likely, could not return to Candlekeep any more than Aegis could. "What letter?"

"Oh, um," Imoen shifted. "It... it said something about Candlekeep not being safe anymore, and you and Gorion needing to head out. Said it was hoping you'd find some friends along the way, because it was safer to travel in large groups. I only got a peek you know, and then I had to book it cause the old man was coming! But it seemed really important." She wrung her fingers. "Um. It... it might be on his body," she added slowly, and absolutely did not turn around and look behind herself.

Sure enough, there was a crumbled, gray-robed body slumped over the farthest of the circles. A wave of long, silver-white hair was stained; soggy, dark patches of blood had soaked into the ground on either side.

Imoen released Aegis's hand and stood back, figuring her surrogate sister needed a moment alone to... well.

Gorion was dead. Gorion, who'd changed Ae's nappies as a child. Gorion, who'd left tons of well-annotated and interesting magic scrolls in convenient places for silly pink thieves to steal them, and who had never begrudged her any one of a billion sleepovers. Old Mr. G. had treated Imoen, well, maybe not like a daughter, but definitely as close as a favorite niece...

Aegis walked quietly up beside him and then dropped rather unceremoniously to her knees. She reached out numbly, touching the soft gray robes, touching his silky hair. So cold, and stiff, and lifeless his limbs.

He can't be dead. He cannot truly be dead. He is a powerful wizard. He can protect himself. He is capable of anything.

Aegis traced over his features and touched his hands. She touched his hair. Her earliest memories of him were textural ones of that silver hair. She had clearly tugged on it a lot as a child. Indeed, with how grabby a youngster she'd allegedly been, it was no small wonder he'd never cropped it shorter.

She was trembling, trembling so hard that when she leaned over him she nearly lost her balance. She scooped her arms beneath him as carefully as she knew how—for how many years had he been smaller than her? and how had she somehow never noticed?—and she gathered him up into her lap. Carefully. Gently. As if anyone could possibly hurt him now.

Aside from the obvious chest wound, he was still largely whole; The rain last night had driven away the animals and vermin which might have otherwise feasted on him. Blood matted his clothing, and he was wet with rain, but other than that he'd gone untouched. Lifeless blue eyes stared up at the sky. Aegis sat back on her heels and held him tightly against her.

What if he had lived through the hit? What if he died out here, hours after he was wounded? What if he had needed me? What if I could have saved him?

No. Aegis had been tutored all her childhood at Candlekeep, and hunted deer in the surrounding woodlands. She knew where a man's vitals were located, and she knew well enough what constituted a lethal injury.

Imoen slowly shuffled up behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder, patting it awkwardly. Aegis was glad she didn't say anything. Didn't joke.

Tears came, finally. She felt them, dripping. A low sob worked its way slowly up from her belly, and caught in her throat.

She cradled the body of her only parent and smothered her face in his soft gray hair. She felt beads woven into it. With a broken shudder, she recalled pouncing the man only a few days earlier to braid that hair and add those beads. For some reason this tiny memory transcended past and present, brought the two together, and made undeniable the reality:

Her father was dead. Anything she might or might not have been able to do was no longer of consequence. He would not be coming back.

She began to cry.

Aegis let Imoen rifle through his effects because she lacked the mental stamina to do so herself. She stayed with him a little longer, holding him, playing (perhaps morbidly) with silver hair caught between her fingers. After a bit, she picked up his belt knife from the ground beside him and cut free a lock of hair. She tied the end in a loop, and tucked it away into her backpack.

"Aha!" Imoen's investigation had yielded fruit: She'd found a small wad of letters on him, of which one did look quite grandiose in its stationary. Imoen scrambled over to show it to Aegis, and the two girls saw it said just so much as Imoen had mentioned: Candlekeep was not safe, and 'Khalid' and 'Jaheira' were at the Friendly Arm. The calligraphy was beautiful, and it was signed with an illustrious E; but neither girl had any idea whom 'E' might be. Aegis folded up the letter and tucked it into her backpack as well.

"Guess that means it's kinda urgent we get down the Lion's Way, huh?" Imoen shuddered. "Gives me the creeps, sittin' right where someone was killed like that. Poor Mr. G."

"We need to bury him," Aegis postponed an immediate departure.

"Can we do that? We don't have shovels..."

Aegis looked around. "But we have these stones." Perhaps they'd been ritual stones once, but now they looked forgotten. "I'll make a cairn. It... should only take me an hour."

"I'll... I'll help."

They tried not to think about whether this would be enough to keep animals and monsters from disturbing his bones. It wouldn't be. It would serve as a marker, no more; and one no one but them would even recognize.

They made it back to the road while the day was still relatively young.

Imoen had gotten all turned around in the night and probably couldn't have found it herself, to be honest. But while Aegis hadn't said a word since the burial, and looked lost in her own thoughts, her legs had walked true and it seemed she'd intuitively known how to get them back on track even with her brains a-wanderin'.

"Well, it's definitely the Lion's Way. Step One completed! Hey," the pink thief reached over and tugged on her sister's sleeve. "Have ya eaten?"

Aegis looked at her blankly a moment and then shook her head.

"We should stop for lunch!"

Aegis looked down the road. "Later," she said. The first step she took onto the cobblestone looked leaden, but the second seemed easier. "I want a few miles behind us."

Well, that was fair. "Okay. I won't let you forget though, so don't try to trick me!" Imoen compromised as she skipped after her sister's shadow. "I haven't eaten either, you know, and I'm secretly half-halfling! My appetite is legendary!"

Aegis took the bantering bait: "Oh? I thought you were half-nymph last week." It was easy to pretend to be half-a-lot-of-things when you didn't know your own parents.

"Yeah, well, my parents had understandable fettishes."

A very small smile cracked at the corner of Aegis' mouth. "Well, alright then. But then I get to be half elf."

"You don't have the ears! You can't be."

"You don't have the furry feet, so how can you be?"

"I'm so glad you think I'm beautiful." Imoen preened herself, because Aegis hadn't argued Imoen couldn't be half nymph.

"I'm so glad you came." Aegis threw an arm around the thief's shoulders, and tugged her into a tight, one-armed hug.

They hunkered down by the road for a quick lunch, but did not build a fire. There was still potentially an armored fiend searching for Aegis, though each hour that passed without discovery suggested more that he'd returned to wherever he'd come from, empty-handed.

Gorion had told Aegis to prepare for a journey of some danger, and she'd done her best to comply. He'd given her gold, and she'd turned in her old padded training armor for a brand new chainmail shirt. She'd also filled her backpack to the brim with food, water, and basic camping and first aid items. It had been fun to think of all the things Gorion himself might accidentally forget and, anyway, Aegis could carry more than he could.

These were sad thoughts.

Imoen had brought a shortbow and two quivers of arrows, as well as a wand that she had probably stolen off Ulraunt just before departing. Aegis took a sort of half-hearted satisfaction in the fact that, even in her last moments at Candlekeep, this imp had managed to cause their stiff-necked Master of Tomes some grief.

Imoen had also pocketed a nice supply of rations from Winthrop's Inn. Both girls knew the innkeeper wouldn't mind; If he could have seen them now he surely would have smothered them with food. As it was, Imoen resolved to send a letter back to him just as soon as she could, and knew it would put a smile on his face to hear that the best part of their first day out in the world had been sitting down to a block of his cheese and a hunk of his bread and having a halfway decent meal. Imoen had also smuggled out a bottle of wine, but, well, that was something she probably ought to conceal for the time being.

As they broke their fast, however, a raccoon came up and tried to steal their food. And after trying and failing to shoo it repeatedly, Aegis engaged in a terrible battle with it over a bag of peanuts.

"Hey! Away! Those aren't yours. Hey! No, those aren't yours either! That's my bedroll, that's not even edible! You won't confuse me with your evasive tactics! Get back here! Is it gone? Good riddance," But then it reappeared and made a go to steal the entire block of cheese, which Imoen dove to defend with a squeal.

"Aegis!" Imoen laughed. "Can't you talk to it!?" she demanded. Aegis could, occasionally, talk to animals. It usually took her some time to get to 'know' them. This gift had emerged spontaneously sometime in their childhood, soon after the death of a feline named 'Mittens' with whom Aegis had been been well-acquainted (and that was a story in itself, ugh).

"What would it possibly say to me that I cannot deduce from it's actions!?" Aegis demanded, gesticulating angrily as she swatted at its rump and chased it around. At least this event had gotten her mind off Gorion. "It's clearly hungry!"

"You're lucky it's not angry, racoons are no joke, I've seen how they get over inn garbage! Never seen another animal willing to tussle a hog for slop!"

But the raccoon suddenly stood up on its rear legs, and Aegis tensed and reached for the handle of her hatchet.

"Imoen," the larger girl said. "Something's coming."

A ghastly spat of chittering erupted from the forest, and four tiny blue humanoids with wild hair hurtled out from the nearby bushes, charging their little camp on all fours.

"Holy soap suds," Imoen jerked backwards in surprise. "The hell are-!?"

"Gibberlings!" An accurate name for a very irritating creature, shrieking babble in high-pitched streams.

Imoen scrambled for her bow, but by the time she'd gotten up and knocked an arrow, Aegis had run to meet the oncoming monsters. "Hey, Ae, you've gotta give me a clear line to-!"

Aegis scored an opening but glancing blow across the first's monster's head that startled it more than anything, but then backhanded it with the spike of her hatchet to puncture its skull and sending it to the ground in a heap. Did she stop to take stock of how she'd just killed something with two feet and too arms? Nope! She plowed into clear the next gibbering so hard she decapitated it in a single hit. The third Gibberling jumped up to get its claws into play against her, but Aegis grabbed intercepted it with freehand, and threw it down hard enough that it sort of bounced. She then stomped forward onto its ribs, hard enough Imoen had to wince at the ensuing crunch.

The last gibbering tried to leap high enough to land on Aegis' head or back, and Imoen raised her arrow to try and shoot it, even as doing so was a risky trick-shot on par with knocking an apple off someone's head, and way outside her comfort zone; but Aegis swiped with that hatchet and disemboweled it mid-leap. The little thing's body collided with her, making an audible squelching sound as it's entrails burst outward and slithered down her armor.

Aegis stood there vacantly a moment, face freckled with blood, and blinked with vague disapproval at the carnage she'd just wrought. The Gibberling under her foot was still moving, slightly. She stomped on it again (with another crunch!) and then turned about to look at Imoen.

The raccoon, inexplicably, bounded forward, leaped up, grabbed onto Aegis' hip, and then climbed up her armor to sit on her shoulder.

"I think that was all of them," Aegis told her, and Imoen decided not to comment. Aegis had, uh, Aegis had been having a very rough start to her week.

They walked in silence for awhile, and met no travelers. Not for the first few hours at least.

Imoen kept glancing at Aegis. The older girl's armor was still splattered with gibbering ook, but she seemed not to mind. Imoen was pretty sure basic armor maintenance probably included cleaning it yourself, so the blood didn't go and rust nothing, but, uh. Well. Hmm.

After awhile, Imoen decided not to worry about Aegis's sudden and immediate affinity for hunting Gibberings. Gibberlings? Jibberings? Bah. Instead Imoen crossed her arms behind her head and sighed, looking up at the sky. It was shaping out to be an okay day, right? Bright. Sunny.

Aegis was out of sorts, that was true, but she wasn't crying. Poor Gorion was gone, but no one could do anything about that-

Gorion was gone. Taught me loads. Smiled like a grandfather. Imoen's face fell briefly, but then her excitement swelled up to overwhelmed it. Even Gorion, wherever he was now, wouldn't begrudge Imoen for enjoying the weather. The old man wouldn't want Imoen and Aegis to be miserable. He'd want to see them safe and happy. And he'd even given them a direction to get them started: The Friendly Arm! A common pit-stop for adventurers, caravans, and all manner of traveler.

Cause make no mistake: They were going on an adventure!

Chapter Text

"So, I see we've randomly adopted Mister Raccoon?" Imoen half-asked with a glance back to where the animal was following them. He wasn't a small raccoon but he did have this big adorable thieving face on him, so she was already well enough convinced they might get along.

"Probably," Aegis agreed, tossing yet another nut behind them as they walked. "He heard of a job opening for a cat, and while his resume didn't impress me much at first glance, I decided to let him stay on as an intern."

Imoen planted her hands on her hips and gave Aegis a shuttered-eyed grin. "I see."

"Also, this is settling my nerves," Aegis admitted. Animals were sort of her 'thing.'

Imoen was just about to return back to the walking when—just then—a high, feminine scream pierced the air, sounding horrified and in grave distress. Both Aegis and Imoen nearly jumped out of their skins and then shared a look of surprise. Was someone in danger? They bolted off the side of the road without a word shared between them, heading towards the sound. Another scream and some shouting reached their ears, but this time it was quickly followed by a hoarse, loud roar.

"Whoa!" Imoen pulled her bow off her shoulder and grabbed for an arrow. This was going to be worse than Gibberings, she felt it in her bones. "What do you think that was?" She called to her sister in alarm, although why she thought Aegis would know-

"Maybe a bear?" Aegis surprised her. "Stay behind me!"

"How could you possibly know what bears sound like?! We've lived in the same library! We've been on all the same hunting trips!" Imoen was eventually going to have to ask for a complete rundown on why Aegis seemed to have turned into a walking almanac of Sword Coast wildlife. Paying attention in class, maybe? Derp!

"Gorion illustrates stories with cantrips," Aegis reminded her, and forgot to use the past tense, ow, "including plenty of animal noises."

"And you've just memorized assorted roars!? I'm not even sure I'd recognize an elephant trumpet, and that was pretty distinctive! Couldn't it be a hydra, or a gorgon, or a dra-"

The two of them jointly reached a little glade and crashed out into it unceremoniously. About twenty paces ahead of them, some shaggy, black beast had climbed several branches up into a large oak tree... and no sooner had they caught sight of it than the creature's stout head swiveled towards them.

Oh, yup. That was a bear alright. Aegis's ability to identify random monsters: 2, Imoen: 0. She needed to step up her game, Ae was smoking her!

A squeal emanated from further up the oak tree, to where a quick glance told Imoen that someone was probably up there, higher in the branches, hiding from this animal. A quick glance back down at the bear indicated that the animal had changed its mind as to exactly who it was pissed at, and planned on making short work of them. It practically rolled out of the tree, hit the ground at a run, and barreled towards the two of them without ever breaking it's stride!

On all fours it wasn't particularly large... If it had stood up on its hind legs, it would only have been as tall as Imoen. Right? But, uh, the way Aegis shoved Imoen backwards suggested it was still something to be feared, and Imoen wasn't about to doubt her sister twice on this whole 'bear' matter.

"Back up, back up, back up!" the larger girl hissed at her urgently.

Imoen obeyed, nocked her arrow, drew, aimed, and loosed! And hit! The arrow buried maybe three or so inches into it's skin about the neck... But the bear merely roared, and seemed to become much angrier, and all at once Imoen was getting horrible flashbacks to The Worst Hunting Trip Ever. "Ae, it didn't-!"

"Back up!" Aegis spat, interposing herself before the oncoming animal. She met its tackle with her axe in hand but, as anyone with hunting experience coulda attested, hatchets didn't make for great weapons against animals. The bear had curved talons and meaty paws half the size of a person's head, and with a big swat it shoved Aegis' axe out of the way. Another swat sent chain links to popping! It bit for her face, and only then did Aegis seem to regain her balance and gather some renewed mastery of her own strength, because she grabbed the bear's shoulders and scruff and shoved it backwards a foot or so!

"What can I do!?" Imoen needed to know as she back up further and further to keep out of the way.

Aegis didn't have an answer for her.

The bear lunged at Ae again, but Aegis rolled to the side, somehow getting around those clobbering claws and those big biting teeth! It rounded on Aegis on all fours again, all cumbersome-looking but secretly-fast. It clawed at her thighs and she swiped warningly at its face. It reared up on its hind legs, and while it did so Aegis struck it hard in the shoulder. THUPHK! The rounded hatchet blade buried itself several inches into the animal's meaty hide...

...but in turn the bear nearly knocked her head off: One poorly aimed smack of it's thick paw left the world all addled and spinny, if the way Ae staggered woodenly to the side was any clue.

Addled and spinny were understatements; from Aegis's perspective everything was suddenly dark, red, and filled with stars. For a moment, she wasn't entirely sure where she was, or what was happening. Then she felt a jolt to her knees, and that was how she'd realized she had lost her balance and fallen to the ground.

She felt like she was dreaming for one moment, but then every instinct in her body screamed to lift her hands up. She did so, and caught gigantic, snapping jaws upon the handle of her hatchet. Long claws curled into her armor, tearing it, ripping skin. The pain got a howl from her and brought her back to wakefulness: Bear. Bear!

Aegis kicked and shimmied and flailed, trying to get out from under it. Claws were tearing chunks of her chainmail free. Another few seconds of this and she'd be dead.

Not on Imoen's watch!

Four small balls of light appeared like shrieking arrows, and all of them smacked into the bear's head and burned pits into it's flesh. The bear gave a magnificent roar and swiveled about to look at Imoen.

"Get up, Aegis!"

Imoen was holding that wand she'd stolen, that wand of magic missiles, and the little thing had just proven a formidable weapon.

Oghma.

The bear rolled off of Aegis with all the ease of a falling rock, looking and sounding and radiating anger like never before. Dazed and injured, but entirely unwilling to leave this matter up to Imoen and an unknown quantity of wand charges, Aegis rolled after the departing bear. She flailed out with her axe and caught the animal's right back leg, tripping it. She flailed again to hit it, the sharpened beard of the axe penetrating flash.

"Aegis, prioritize!" Imoen shouted. She sent another burst of magic missiles at it with her stolen wand. "Get up, dunderhead! You can't fight it on the ground!"

The words must have sunk in, because Aegis staggered upright, wiping blood from her face and into her hair. The bear whirled back towards her and made to stand, only to fall back to it's forelegs. It roared at Aegis. So Aegis roared at it, which probably made sense—if only to Aegis. Imoen looked between the two of them hesitantly.

For a moment, bear and Aegis hunkered there, glowered at one another, both looking exceptionally worse for wear. Then a raccoon darted out of the underbrush and planted itself beside Aegis. With its fur all standing on its end, it began to growl menacingly at the bear.

Maybe the bear realized it was outnumbered. Maybe raccoons and bears spoke a similar dialect of animal-ese, and the wee guy had gone and made a compelling argument for halting hostilities. Either way the bear backed up a wary step. It grumbled and chuffed and shifted about its heavy bulk. Then it turned around and, apparently thinking them all far too much trouble for its evening, it lumbered off and left them be.

The clearing was quiet for a long moment after its departure, as Aegis and Imoen (and the raccoon) all stared to make sure it was really gone. Then Aegis groaned in relief and let her shoulders sag. She eased gingerly out of her defensive stance as if doing so pained her. She looked down at her poor self, and held out the shredded chain weave of her armor to look at it. Below the metal, her leather gambeson had been torn, and blood trickled slowly from the deepest scratches. Her hair was in quite the state of disarray: Filled with sticks, leaves, dirt and blood. She looked up as Imoen approached her, and held up her hands to forestall any hugging.

"Ow," Aegis told her, and Imoen sputtered a laugh. A few thick cuts on the edge of her face were bleeding openly. If the bear had hit her head square across the face, it might have outright killed her. Or blinded her, at least! As it was, she'd merely been backhanded. The whole event had taken only a few minutes of their time, but she now looked hurt, stiff, exhausted, and very much like... well, like she'd been mauled by a bear.

Imoen snickered, and when Aegis squinted at her she waved her hands placatingly and then (smartly) pocketed that wand of hers before she could accidentally set it off on some unintended target. "Um! S-sit down! Sit down, I'll-I'll bandage you up, that's what I'll do!" And with that decision made, she slung off her pack and began digging in it for fresh linens.

"'Stand up.' 'Sit down.' I'm... I've..." Aegis stammered inarticulately. "Holy Oghma's giant ass, that was lucky."

"You're telling me!" Imoen cried with a waggle of her arms. "When it knocked you over I thought it had bitten your head off! Hold still!" She stood up and started pressing the linen into Aegis's cheek.

"Augh! Watch it! That hurts!"

"I said hold still, I'll never get it bandaged if you jump around like you've ants in your pants!"

"I'm not jumping anywhere, you're shoving your fingers into my jaw muscles- Ow!"

"Stop talking, dummy!"

"I'm fine, I'm fine. Augh. Why the hells did we do that? That was a bear."

"We were trying to rescue that screaming lady! Oh yeah, that's right." Imoen turned back towards the tree, but there was no sign of the person she'd previously observed in it's branches. Were they still up there? She didn't hear anything. Hmm. "Well that's ungrateful, it looks like whoever it was, she's done ran away..."

"I am offended! But could I perhaps interest you in a healing potion?" a masculine tenor sprang up from behind them.

Both women yelped and spun around; and Aegis jumped back to her feet.

The speaker was a tall but very slender man in green robes. His hair was chin length and graham colored, and tossed about in a very messy manner, such as if he had just rolled out of bed. His eyes were a pale, lime green, and he sported dark black facial tattoos reminiscent of harlequin makeup—tattoos which made him quite unnerving to behold. His lips were painted black in a permanent smile that extended across his cheeks and nearly up to his ears; triangles like claws stretched down from beneath his eyes, sharply contrasting their color; and his brows were surmounted by a whimsical line of black dots.

Imoen recoiled an inch. Aegis straightened and raised an incredulous brow, as if his sudden and exotic appearance had puzzled her more than alarmed.

He smiled at the both of them in a manner that was at once charming, innocent, and—owed to the tattoos—sorta repulsive. But in his hands he proffered forth that aforementioned healing potion, which was actually a rather good icebreaker: Aegis was covered in quite a bit of her own blood at the moment, and Imoen (truthfully) wasn't very good with bandages.

Aegis stepped forward, and lightly waved her shorter sister behind her. "Who are you?" she asked of this very strange man.

"Why, my name is Xzar!" he gushed fabulously with a lift of one shoulder and a flick of a hand. "I'm just a poor unfortunate traveler, who seems to have lost track of the road! That's true, isn't it? Yes it is. Is that all? No! An yes, I'm forgetting something: This is my aggravating traveling companion, Montaron!"

An annoyed growl drew their attention to the side, where a very irate and shady-looking halfling was perched not so very far away. He had coal-black hair and venomous eyes, and he was lithe enough that only the black tufts of hair upon his naked feet sufficed to distinguish him from a gnome or other smallfolk race. He held his shortsword drawn from its sheathe and, if Xzar hadn't been the one to point him out, Imoen would have said he'd almost looked like he'd been flanking them... but, to be fair, a bear was in the area and Aegis was still holding a bloody axe aloft. Couldn't fault him for being careful.

"Ahem!" continued Xzar, reclaiming their attention, "We are trying to get to the village of Nashkel, just outside of Amn." His words sounded so completely rehearsed that Imoen (personally) went way past disbelieving him and somehow resurfaced back on the 'totally believing him' side of things again. "Nashkel is a mining town, and we are on on a mission to investigate the iron crisis in the region!

"We were hoping you might be heading in the same direction? Perhaps we could help each other out. I happen to be a wizard, and my associate is skilled with blades." He again deliberately avoided use of the use of the word 'friend', apparently to avoid confusion. "And you look like quite the splendid meat-shield, if you don't mind me saying so!"

Imoen and Aegis shared a look, trying to determine whether they ought to be afraid or simply bemused. There was something hair-prickingly creepy about this harlequin man, but if he'd wished them harm it would have been easier to ambush them while they'd been distracted and injured.

"Well?" he asked, when their silence appeared to agitate him. "Not that I don't mind standing around smelling the flowers and stems and chlorophyll and humus and other odorous nature-scents, but-!"

Aegis stepped forward and moved quietly into his personal space. The wizard's eyes flew open wide, as if he'd just registered just how much light her silhouette could blot out in close quarters. Imoen hid a grin with her hand. Xzar was tall, yes, but Aegis was a few inches taller still, and she had at least double his pounds. 'Slight' or 'girlish,' were things Aegis had never been.

"Thank you," the bloodied older girl told him, after a long pause. She reached out a hand to take the healing potion. Xzar looked quickly from her face to the potion, recalled that he was supposed to be offering it to her, and all but dropped it into her hands. Then he snatched his limbs back to himself and inspected his fingers as if expecting to find bite markes in them.

Aegis had no guarantee the vials weren't poisoned or doped, but there was blood running down her face, and Imoen had skipped out every first-aid class offered by the Candlekeep surgeons. So Aegis uncorked the vial and downed it in one motion. The taste was bitter, like old kelp and spoiled parsley, but instantly her aches and pains were fading away.

"Oh," she sighed happily. Green eyes flit back to her. "Thank you."

"Um, Mister Xzar, if you don't mind me asking," Imoen piped up, "Where exactly did you... come... from?"

Xzar blinked rapidly, dropped his hands, and then beamed and gestured to the wild world about them. "Well, I've traveled many places but most recently I-"

"She means the tree, ye damned fool wizard!" the halfling snarled from their other side. "Ye don't just start talking to a person in the middle of the forest without explanation o' whence ye came ta be there!"

The wizard scowled. "Oh look who thinks he's so clever! Was I talking to you or to the Garishly-Colored-And-Sickeningly-Spritely-One, hmm? Now, where was I. Yes, we were accosted by that terrible animal; but then you and your extremely large friend showed up and chased it off. We'd climbed up the tree, but much to my chagrin it had started to follow... I didn't know bears could climb, did you, Monty?"

"I only told ye ten... damn... times... If ye'd just cast a spell on the thing, it'a been dead already!"

Comprehension flashed over both women's faces: Xzar was talking to them because they'd inadvertently rescued him. "Wait," Imoen interjected, "who screamed?" She turned to Montaron because he seemed best-equipped to give level answers. "We thought it was a woman?"

Montaron leaned moodily against the tree, and pointed to the wizard the wizard with the tip of his sword. "Guess," he dared.

Xzar's voice distorted into something high-pitched, shrill, and passably feminine. "It was so dirty!" he wailed. "So very, very, very dirty! With GNASHING, pointy, dirty teeth!"

Imoen made a sympathetic 'o' shape with her mouth. Aegis looked to be growing steadily more impressed with the breadth and scope of the wizard's wild gesticulations, and had leaned back and crossed her arms to better appreciate them.

"It probably had flees and worms and parasites and—that would have been very interesting to study, postmortem, by the way—but-!" Aegis's raccoon trotted up beside her and peered suspiciously over at the wizard. Xzar jumped slightly upon noticing it, and then dramatically shrunk back and clutched his arms to himself as if fearful it might touch him. He gurgled a pinched: "Animal...!"

Aegis looked between the raccoon and the madman. "This is my new cat," she introduced them casually.

"That is no cat," the wizard spat in angry whisper, his wide eyes locked upon the furry interloper. The raccoon growled at him, apparently just as disappointed to meet Xzar as Xzar was to meet it. Xzar did not let it have the last word: "Hiss!"

"Well, No," Aegis admitted, but then picked up the raccoon with a fond grin and scratched his thick ruff. "But I like him anyway." She shifted his weight up onto her shoulder that he might perch there. Then she looked Xzar and Montaron to encompass both of them as she dusted off her hands. "We can't go to Nashkel just now because we're headed to the Friendly Arm..."

"Well that's that, then," Montaron growled, standing up and approaching the wizard, clearly ready to leave.

Xzar blinked rapidly, swallowed, composed himself, glanced to Montaron, and then frowned thoughtfully up at Aegis. "Well... Um. Is there nothing we can do to change your mind?" he asked, brows coming together uncertainly.

"I'm afraid we're meeting with some friends."

"Oh. Heading, um, up to Baldur's Gate, then?" he asked quietly and in a very small voice. "Or through to Waterdeep or perhaps Neverwinter?"

"Just the inn, for now."

Aegis looked to Imoen, who gave her sister a big, over-the-top shrug with elbows akimbo and hands spread.  To make absolutely sure Aegis knew this call was hers to make.

"But..." Aegis hazardly appended, and turned back towards Xzar, "we can travel with you until the road splits at least."

Xzar's face lit up. Montaron paused and didn't budge for a moment, as if processing whether he'd heard them correctly. Then he eyed both of them, quietly. Almost judgmentally, as if legitimately questioning their sanity.

"And," Aegist continued, "if you've lost the road, you might consider re-provisioning at the Friendly Arm before heading south. We're not entirely sure where our friends plan to head. If it's also south, maybe we can join parties? There's safety in numbers."

"Alright then!" the wizard cooed excitedly. "I like inn food, don't you Monty? Ooh, it'll be nice to have such kind and generous friends! But of course I expect to be paid in chipmunk heads-!"

Montaron cursed, "Wait just a moment ye damned wizard. Ye don't go where I don't go, and I haven't said anything about agreeing to none of this."

Xzar's expression turned from elated to violent and he whirled on the halfling. "But look they just took my potion!" he squealed in a grating tone. "I think that deserves some aid in kind, don't you? Why not take them up on the offer, hmm?"

Imoen leaned near Aegis. "We saved him from a bear already, right?" Aegis hrmed an agreement.

Xzar looked back to them in alarm. "Ah, that is, I wouldn't hold such a thing against you, but your conscience would know otherwise!" And then suddenly the next thing he said wasn't loud or excitable at all, but rather small and cutesy. "After all, what's a poor duo like us to do, alone out in the woods with dirty, dirty bears running around? You wouldn't just leave us here..." And then his voice dropped into a low gush and he grinned like a devil as he drawled out a: "Woooulldd youuu...?"

Montaron lifted a hand to pinch at the bridge of his own nose, and seemed to seriously contemplate stabbing the wizard.

Aegis and Imoen stared at Xzar, the latter with her head cocked to the side, the former with a brow raised, for Xzar was unabashedly the most peculiar person they had ever met.

"I think he's nuts," Imoen decided, and Xzar puffed himself up indignantly just like he'd expected such an accusation.

"I think I like him," Aegis agreed, and Xzar deflated and looked like he hadn't expected that at all. Montaron jerked his head up and stared at her in a mix of what looked to be bafflement and irritation. "Well," Aegis walked past the two of them and smirked at a very confused-looking wizard. "The road's this way, gentlemen."

"What? It's totally not!" Imoen piped up, surprised. "It's- wait... um... Was that tree here before?" Okay, fine, you know what? Ae was good at this. This 'walking around in the woods' business. Ae had been good at this on all their hunting trips, even, and Imoen, just, Imoen hadn't really noticed. 

Too busy stealing coins off the wall guards on their way in and out, eh? Heh.

Aegis wiped her axe casually off on her trouser leg, and belted it as she sauntered clear out of the glade. "I think I'm going to call you 'Urso,'" she could be heard to tell the raccoon as she went. "How do you like that? It's in honor of your first battle."

Xzar stared dumbly after her for a moment before lifting a hand to point in her direction and looking superciliously at Montaron and Imoen. He chastised them snobbishly: "We should listen to her; she talks to animals."

And ya know what? Imoen now comfortably agreed.

Chapter Text

They left the road about half an hour before dusk arrived, and this gave them just enough time to be picky about their camping spot before lightning conditions worsened and things began to creep about in the dark. The roads weren't particularly safe these days, and all four companions, hysterical wizard included, decided it was safer to camp some distance into the brush, so as to avoid detection.

Xzar had been chattering on and off about things that made very little sense, and while Montaron seemed mildly irritated by this behavior, Imoen and Aegis both listened and answered as best they could whenever he looked at them expectantly. If their new companion's obvious insanity bothered them, they didn't much show it, and this earned them more than a few sharp glances from Montaron.

"-and that is why you should never trust a talking tree," Xzar concluded, with a dodgy glance at every arbor in sight.

"But I don't think that dryad meant to kill him," Imoen offered. "I hear they're really quite nice, actually- just a little vain and reclusive."

Xzar nearly jumped out of his skin, whipping about to stare at her. He blinked slowly several times, causing Imoen to stare back at him in confusion. After a moment he responded as if he hadn't just produced a very long and awkward silence: "Pah! They're vile, dirty, nasty little things! They should all be gutted and strung up like oil lamps on wire! And then lit on fire to complete the simile! Why, have you ever met one?"

"Well no, but I've read-"

"You can't believe everything you read, you know!" he squealed, and then leaned down to whisper loudly in the much shorter woman's ear. "I know, I've written some!" 

"Well you can't believe everything other people tell you either, so why should I believe you?" she countered sassily back and tapped him on the nose. Xzar straightened in surprise and wrinkled said nose, before breaking into a smile.

"Because I'm wonderful," he told her, putting his hands on his hips and sticking out his chest.

Several feet ahead of them, Aegis choked into her water canteen. She sputtered and laughed, much to the  clear bewilderment of the wizard, and grinned back at the both of them for a moment. "Yes, yes you are, Xzar," she agreed. Then she looked down at their halfling. "Think this pine's gonna be enough to keep off the rain tonight?"

"Should work," Montaron muttered, "though them clouds are looking mean as Umberlee's tits." He seemed vaguely glad that someone else was shouldering the burden of interacting with the wizard, and maybe slightly irritated that by answering him they kept encouraging him to talk.

"Yeah. Guess it'll have to do, suns getting low. Guess we just get a fire up and going before the weather turns. Your vision's better than our in bad lightning, right?" she queried. 

He grunted in confirmation.

"You want to look for firewood; I'll clear out the camp site?"

He grunted again and then moved to forage up brush and tinder while Aegis stepped to the more laborious task of clearing out the underneath of the pine tree. Imoen and Xzar both watched quietly and made no move to help at either task.

Aegis paused and looked up at them. They both blinked at her innocently. Aegis lifted a brow, and eyed Imoen expectantly. The younger girl pulled out her puppy-eye trick. Aegis continued to stare.

"Oh you're no fun," Imoen complained dramatically, before hurrying over to help Aegis clean. Montaron made no similar efforts to solicit Xzar's aid, and in the end it was probably best that the wizard wasn't allowed to handle too much dried tinder. The girls hadn't known him for a particularly long stretch of time, but they each had a sneaking suspicion he might be prone to inexplicable catastrophes.

Neither Montaron nor Xzar had been traveling with particularly impressive rations, so Aegis and Imoen brought out everything they had with them to share. Montaron easily ate as much as a full-sized man, but no more, which was somewhat underwhelming for a halfling appetite. An inn wasn't particularly far away, and they had plenty of food to go around. Imoen's wine was split evenly four ways (No Aegis, silly, you can't have it all.)

They talked briefly over their fire, sharing some information about Naschel's mines, the coast's raging iron crisis, and the tension between Bauldur's Gate and Amn. Things which had seemed so very far away in Candlekeep were now real and pressing concerns. For instance: It might be difficult to repair or replace Aegis' chain shirt.

Speaking of Aegis: Urso was taking peanuts from her one at a time, in an exceptionally cute manner, using both of his littles hands, one at a time. Eventually he hopped off to scavenge for supplemental goodies and, perhaps, meet with some pretty female raccoons. Aegis looked exhausted. Imoen, who in other circumstances would have been allergic to chores, tried to help her out a bit by stitching closed a few holes in her gambeson.

Montaron volunteered for the first watch, Aegis the second, and Imoen the third. Again they did not ask Xzar for his assistance in this matter. Imoen headed to bed first. Xzar was next, yawning something about beauty rest. Aegis kicked over the fire to smother it, found her sleeping bag soon afterward, hit the pillow, and was out.

You will learn.

The camp site was still for a long time, closing in on an hour, and then the rain started coming down. It made a heavy curtain of white noise; a lull that could mask out any manner of small happening. Montaron stood from his position, made a round of the pine, ensured the damsels were down, and finally kicked out at Xzar's bedroll. The wizard was wide awake studying his spellbook in pitch blackness—right as expected—and on being disturb coiled himself up to a sitting position.

«They're both asleep,» Montaron growled. «Let's get this over with quick. Cast yer paralysis spell on the ranger; I don't want no nasty surprises when I go to give her that second smile.»

Xzar tilted his head like he was stupid. Like he hadn't done this half a dozen times before. «I don't think that's necessary,» he decided calmly, and then fished about his person for a- for what? A midnight snack?

«I don't give a shit what you think, you got us lost in the first place, I told you it was daft leaving the road, and now we've overshot the inn on the way down.»

«She's useful, Monty...» Xzar purred as if to placate him. 

«Useful? Goody two-shoes whelps are what they both are. They've got a nice bit of gold on 'em, and food enough to last us for a week so we can continue and get this over, without doubling back to-»

Xzar had assembled a set of crackers with a bit of liver and beans. =No.»

«'No,'» the halfling mocked. «What do you mean 'no'? Spell her for me, or I'll bleed her without it, and then you'll be stuck dealing with the purple twat should she wake up in the fuss.» Aegis was a big girl; sometimes those took a moment to accept when they was dead.

Xzar's eyes narrowed. «We might need a forward fighter in the mine,» he argued, before popping the snack in his mouth to talk with his mouth full. «Avoid arguing with me, little homuncular half-pint, or I will alert them to your malefic malcontent.»

«Hah.» Montaron called that bluff. «You couldn't risk them killing me. Fine, I'll do it myself.» He strode up to the sleeping Aegis, drawing his dirk.

Xzar chewed, swallowed, and sucked in a deep breath.

"MONTY!" Xzar squealed in a piercingly high voice. Aegis jerked to a wakeful position and looked around dazedly. Montaron deftly flicked his short sword out of sight. Imoen snorted and rolled over, pulling her pillow over her head.

"Xzar..." Aegis moaned blearily, as Montaron sunk back down near the opposite side of the pine and banked on her nightvision being poor enough to hide his botched coup de grace. "What the hells?"

Xzar leered at Montaron, who shot him a baleful glare from past low hanging tree branches. "I thought I saw a mosquito," the wizard offered by way of explanation. "It was going to hurt Monty!"

Aegis stared dumbstruck at the wizard a second before turning over and going back to bed. The rain was soothing; she was out again within seconds.

Xzar finished off his snacking for the evening. He wiped his hands off on his robes, reached into a pouch, and drew out some manner of green powder. In an over-exaggerated way that left no ambiguity about his actions even from the opposite side of camp, he leaned over and blew the powder over where Aegis was sleeping. It settled, glittering gold momentarily before fading.

A ward, or summat?

Xzar shot Montaron a smile that showed teeth, and then dramatically stifled a yawn, fluffed up his pillow, and snuggled himself back into bed.

Montaron sneered but didn't test him further, settling back down for first watch.

The clouds were still heavy and dark, blotting out the morning sunshine, when Gibberings found the camp. Imoen was on watch, and her shouts quickly roused them, but to be honest the high pitched war-chitters quickly made her warning unnecessary.

Montaron and Aegis raced to their feet with the halfling in the lead, perhaps because habit and experience meant he knew exactly where the handle of his nearest weapon was; Aegis had to fumble blindly a few precious seconds for hers. Xzar jumped directly to his feet, but forgot to first slip out of his sleeping roll first and so immediately tripped and sprawled onto his face.

"Take their attention," Montaron barked, and Aegis responded immediately with,

"My pleasure. Imoen, other side of the tree!" Then she rocketed out from within the pine, bolting for the Gibberings. A few skid and slowed; Aegis was big, and something big running straight at you was usually demoralizing.

Even so, Imoen was counting fifteen of them this time—far more than when she and Ae had encountered them the day before—and if fifteen dogs could rip a man apart, it sure reasoned that fifteen little goblin snots could do it too! So if Aegis had been an especially cautious or rational person, she might have reasoned that bowling into them was a bad idea.

Naturally, Ae didn't pause for a moment! Into the crowd she went, scattering confused blue noise-makers in all directions as they tried to work out whether she was more dangerous than the average human, or just a weeeee little bit dumb. Imoen clearly had to get over any reservation of shooting into a melee; she aimed for whatever the heck she could keep a bead on for half a second, and tried to pick things just a bit wide of her sister. 

Somebody needs to get you a shield, Ae...!

Ooh! Ooh Imoen hit one. Wow, nailed it right in the noggin, watched it throw its head back and drop. Uh, new experience?

Montaron was clearly not the sort of person to dive headlong into a hoard tiny boogiemen, but at least he seemed to enjoy doing some 'real' work after throwing out a big handsome broad as a target dummy to soak up all the attention. He'd gotten behind the lot of them in just a few bats of an eye, and appeared to be methodically taking out any scaredy stragglers on the peripheral.

Aegis noticed him. Aegis punted a Gibbering his way with one long-legged kick. Montaron jerked back and braced his short sword, catching the monster on the tip and impaling it through. He shrugged it off the tip, and crooked a brow her way, before darting forward to drag another Gibbering back from the fight to slit its throat.

Wow. Okay. This was not like any hunting trip Imoen had ever been on. Ever.

This was more like...

... Eh.

Anyway, the long and short of it was: The Gibberings didn't stand a chance. Together the, three of them took out every single one of the boogers, even the two who tried to run when they realized things were going poorly for them.

Afterwards, they found their wizard still hopelessly tangled in his sleeping bag, in such a complex and convoluted manner that even Montaron felt he could not possibly have accomplished it accidentally. It took Aegis and Imoen ten minutes to untie him again, after which he chastised them sternly for tying him up and leaving him to die at the hands of dirty creepy-crawlies.

Aegis and Imoen shared a glance. Then they looked at Montaron. Montaron just pinched his brow and shook his head quietly.

"Is he usually more useful in combat?" Aegis queried. "So far the only things I've seen him do are lose a duel to a sleeping bag, and get chased up a tree by a bear..."

"What!" the wizard cried, still trying to disentangle his foot from the sleeping bag "I am Xzar! The most terrible, horrible, awful wizard that ever—wait, I think those were supposed to be terrifying, horrific and awe-inspiring? Have I mentioned I can bake? it's true, roses and everything! Of course I am 'useful!' " He looked to Montaron for support.

The halfling eyed him with unconcealed malice and a smidgen of disdain. "Some days," Montaron decided. "But then he's twice as irritating."

Xzar's eyes narrowed, his eyelids framing a baleful and very haughty glare. Although he was certainly quite insane, there never would be nor could be a wizard who was genuinely stupid. Not with the work they had to pour into learning even the simplest cantrips.

In the interest in preventing a fight, Imoen patted Xzar's shoulder. She would have said something reassuring, like that Gibberings seemed abnormally common these days, and so surely he'd be able to prove himself soon; but Xzar immediately flinched away from her as if stung, and whipped around to look questioningly in her direction.

"Say, I have a question," piped up Imoen once they were on the road again, "what kind of wizard are you, anyway?"

"What?! The answer is obvious to anyone with half an hour's primer on the topic!" chastised Xzar, "I'm exceptionally unimpressed with your test-writing skills; how will you differentiate skill between your pupils like that?!"

"Not that kind of question," snickered Aegis.

"Oh!" he realized, startled for a moment and then clapping excitedly, "Oh this is a social inquiry, a personal information sharing experience! Let me go first, let me go first! Ahem: I am a necromancer!" he declared happily. 

Imoen and Aegis shared a look. They were pretty sure necromancy was outlawed here there or everywhere, and that nobody who practiced the art exclusively would walk around advertising such in broad daylight. Apparently Montaron agreed if the way he elbowed at Xzar was any indication. 

"I'm somehow not surprised," Aegis decided, out of the blue. "But then what do we need to know about how to support you in a fight, if something else sneaks up on us tomorrow?"

"Oh no, no, let me do the supporting," Xzar cooed. "My favorite spells all require, mmn, that I successfully touch my opponent. Not in the sense of stabbing them, mind you, more of a caress."

Imoen was trying to decide how this didn't give Aegis the heebeejeebees, but Ae only flicked him a look up and down and replied, "I'll keep that in mind."

Imoen thought it might be worthwhile to mine a little information on this topic, if Xzar was going to be so obliviously forthcoming: "Got an example?"

"The shrew enjoys collecting the name of a spell or two? Mn, very well: Chill Touch. That should suffice. Yes? Simple enough, in the common core, taught in most academies..."

Aegis looked at Imoen for interpretation. Imoen grinned sunnily and supplied: "Glowy magic on hand, poke enemy, enemy cold, very ouchy." 

Aegis rolled her eyes, but then bobbed her head in comprehension. "Okay, so if you, the wizard, prefer to get right up in the faces of bandits, bears, or whatever the hell else is in these woods," she glanced him up and down, noting the complete lack of any armor about his person, "then you should probably stick close to me."

Xzar beamed. "That's me!" he agreed. "I've got your back!"

Aegis visibly contemplated all the horrible things Xzar could accidentally or intentionally do to her while her back was turned, hpefully factoring in that whole 'necromancer' bit. Then she shrugged and gave the green wizard a remarkably tolerant smile. "Guess that's still safer than wherever I'm at with our halfling."

Montaron twisted half to look at her, raising a brow, mouth curled in a sneer. "The hell's that supposed to mean?"

Imoen rolled her eyes as she walked up closer behind Aegis to access her backpack pockets. "Like you weren't contemplating shanking us last night and taking our purses. C'mon, we might not understand whatever language you were speaking, but we weren't born yesterday."

"What are ye on about? Ye slept last night like a rock."

"Suuuure I did, my wee little self, out on the road with two strange men." She gave a tremendously sarcastic roll of her eyes. "Totally wasn't holding a wand under my pillow, scared shitless, ready to throw hands. Anyway, I'm hungry. Cheese, anyone?"

"Ho there, wanderer! Stay thy course a moment to indulge an old man; it's been nigh unto a tenday since I've seen a soul walking this road, and I've been without decent conversation since."

They'd been attacked three times in as many days, and so were understandably wary a strange old man hailed them on the roadside. He had a pointed hat, a long pipe, a gnarled wooden staff, and long red robes. In other words: He looked for all the world exactly like a wizard.

"Traveling nowadays appears to be the domain of either the desperate or the deranged. If thou wouldst pardon my intrusion, may I inquire which pertains to thee?"

Montaron looked tense and ready to act on a moment's notice. Xzar was practically cowering behind Aegis. And Aegis, well,

"Deranged," she answered without a moment's hesitation.

The old fart seemed to find that funny, at least, so, good sense of humor: Check! He gave a little bit of advice, and inquired a bit more than was comfortable on their travel plants. Ae's answers were vague, his responses were kind, and he left them just as quickly as he had come, passing by with a blue-eyed wink.

"Didn't that look a bit like...?" wondered Imoen, but then didn't finish the sentence, because surely it wasn't, even if he'd been heading west on a road that went nowhere much but a giant library. Powerful wizards didn't spend valuable tendays walking places, and Candlekeep had big rooms especially designed for receiving portals.

Xzar squinted suspiciously after the departing old man, and then very nosily spat on the ground. He said something at Montaron in a language neither Imoen nor Aegis spoke, but which was probably either an unflattering racial epitaph or else presumption of allegiance:

«Harper.»

"Aye, could practically smell it on him."

"Almost as bad as a rabbit." Which was Common, at least, but neither girl could say they understood it any better.

«Best he didn't take note of us, then.» "Distracted by a bosom or two, suppose they are good for summat."

"Oh har-har," joked Imoen as Xzar twisted back to blink-wide eyed at them and then burst out into seemingly unprovoked ecstatic giggles.

"That is the reputation, isn't it?!" he squealed «Oh, but if only! If only.»

Chapter Text

Peeking over the tops of the trees was a large obelisk. It marked where the Way of the Lion dead-ended against the Coast Way. North lay the Friendly Arm enroute to Baldur's Gate; South was towards Amn, with Nashkel straddling the border.

In a minute or so, a decision would need to be made: Did they split up, each to their separate engagements? Montaron seemed in a hurry to part ways, and Imoen wouldn't miss either of them: One of these guys was nuts and the other had definitely entertained killing them in their sleep. 

But Aegis still remembered the letter they'd found on her father's body: 'A party is stronger than an individual in all respects.' Even if Gorion's friends were to be found at the Friendly Arm Inn, who was to say the horned man did not know Gorion's intended destination? He'd certainly known enough to ambush them in the middle of nowhere.

As their party of four closed on the obelisk, however, Urso-the-Raccoon climbed up on Aegis's shoulder to hiss. She paused in her stride and reached out like an old nan might to keep kids from toppling off the front of a caravan on an abrupt stop. She'd fixed eyes on an object halfway down the middle of the road, and she said, "Something is afoot."

Imoen looked. Imoen did a double take and then got caught between a guffaw and a gag.

"A human foot, to be specific," agreed Xzar without missing a beat. And so there was: Cut off below the ankle, still in its shoe, laying on the cobble. It preluded a spray of gore and entrails, which Xzar helpfully identified by remarking, "But just who would leave a perfectly good kidney laying about? Wasteful! Not a Gentle Repose to be seen! Their lab privileges need to be revoked immediately."

"Movement," hissed Montaron, with a jab of a shortsword just off the left side of the obelisk. Imoen thought, 'that means we should go back the way we came and take a cut through the woods to avoid it.' But Aegis? Aegis hunkered down drew her hatchet and skirted forward along the edge of the road, peeking 'round the Obelisk's pedestal. Then Xzar was following right on her heels, and Montaron had muttered an oath and pursued, and, whelp, time to get the bow out and an arrow knocked Imsy, you know where this is going.

But she didn't know, exactly, nope, not until she'd gotten around the side of the road and looked past the pedestal for herself. And then, there it was: A wolf. A big wolf. A wolf the size of a pony, muzzle jammed into the guts of one very portly dead man. 

The last time Imoen'd seen a beast so unconscionably large for genus and species, she'd been facing down a hog. "Dire wolf...!" she whimpered, almost exactly as it yanked its blood-soaked face out of the corpse and espied them.

No hesitation, no leeriness; the wolf whirled itself about to point their way, and all four legs coiled for a lunge. Aegis shoved Xzar full behind herself and got both hands on her hatched to receive the attack; but the dire-wolf turned out to be smarter than anyone's wager! It avoided Aegis like the plague, ran a circle right around the lot of them, and then slid itself sideways into their rear ends, tripping Xzar and rabbit-kicking Imoen headlong into Montaron.

With them entangled, it rolled its head around to get a bite on Xzar; Imoen swore she heard something snap just like celery, as teeth came down on green robes. That had to be a fracture, maybe a break; probably got a leg? Imeon expected him to be way too distracted by the pain to do anything of interest, but Xzar spat out Draconic and slapped that puppy right on the nose, and then it had released and jerked backwards almost before the blue glow of a Chill Touch  had even gone and registered itself.

Aegis bodily hauled him back from the wolf, and it didn't have its feet beneath it and couldn't go tug-of-war with the wizard's shin regardless. It gathered itself up. Montaron and Imoen sorted themselves. Aegis stood over the downed wizard. 

"Oh try that again," Montaron spat out, unexpectedly putting himself between it and Imoen, and Imoen took full advantage of that, drew her arrow and pegged that sucker, clean shot, right on the flank. Got a wince out of it, even! Only the wound was so shallow the arrow didn't even stand up straight in the wound, because Imoen was using a shortbow and her arms were made of spaghetti. 

The wolf made a lunge at Montaron, who jammed a short sword in between its teeth and got his free hand on it neck. The two wrestled for a moment, food pads flailing, halfling cursing, until Imoen got another arrow in it. The wolf spat out Montaron's sword, made a feint at Aegis, and then tried to get around Montaron to Imoen. Halflings might not have made for particularly imposing warriors, but this one had sword drawn, and Imoen only had a stick, so she stayed glued to his shadow like the eyes of Torm were hoverin' right above them!

Aegis wanted to help, but she'd seen this wolf outmaneuver her once already. She remembered the bear. She remembered none of them were so much in danger as the guy who could no longer stand. If she took one step off Xzar, that dire wolf would be looping back around her and dragging him off by the ankle, and no amount of Urso's chittering was going to stop it.

Imoen caught the snaking end of Draconic right before another spell went off. Then green light gathered up around the wolf's fur and pulled, like as if the pup were being metaphorically scruffed. The green held there for an instant, just long enough to see how tight it seemed to have pulled everything, how it stole the luster from fur and put bags under the eyes. Then it shot out away from the wolf in a long, curled siphon, snaking through the air and rounding Aegis to reach Xzar.

The wolf didn't yelp or howl none, and Imoen wagered that was because the Drain spell hadn't hurt so much as it had gone and sapped the big brute of energy. It could at least tell something suspicious had just happened, because whirled apart from Montaron and Imoen and to settle its eyes on Aegis. She'd gone down on one knee and had pulled Xzar's arm across her shoulder, with the obvious intention of boosting him upright. 

The wolf lunged. Aegis pivoted on the knee she'd gone down on, sliced up and diagonally, and met the wolf clear across the face, splitting open jaw and nose. It's head got thrown to the side, and it teetered there, staggered.  Monatron lunged at it from behind, making to hamstring it. Imoen loosed a third arrow. It tried to turn around, tried to back off, tried to face them all. Then another green tug came at its fur, peaked into a siphon, and away, away, flowed all its remaining vim.

"Stop touching me," hissed Xzar testily for the umpteenth time, even though he was visibly leaning on Aegis for support.

"Wolves don't just attack people in the middle of the road in the middle of the day!" argued Aegis, not with him but with Imoen. 

"Well neither do Gibberings," Imoen debated back, "but it looks like the whole coast is upside down and inside out! That's four times in as many days! You know people write of traveling all the time, right? With no guards, no weapons! Like it's a totally regular thing to do!"

"That's not what I mean," Aegis tried to explain as she toed the dead canine, "This one is looking lean and mangey, so that might have contributed to it feeling desperate enough to attack a lone traveler; but then why wouldn't it have slunk out of our way and come back to eat when we'd gone? Wolves are skittish, nocturnal, and travel in packs. Dire wolves aren't different!. You don't just come across one singular wolf who decides its a good idea to take on-"

"Well we just did," Imoen pointed out, as she stealthily pocketed two healing potions. The portly man had been carrying a few goods on him, stuffed into hidden pockets, which almost made up for the trouble of fighting a wolf with a spoiled pelt.

"Stop touching me."

"I think it was rabid," Aegis summarized, rather than argue further.

"Yeah, well," Montaron growled, wiping off his shortsword as he and Imoen rejoined them with slightly heavier purses. "Temple'll have concoctions fah that, ta lace ya ale with. Ain't a problem, s'long as it's within a th' first week or so."

'Ale.' The word seemed to put Aegis into a more placid state of mind.

"Friendly arm's got a temple, right?" Imoen recalled. "So that's that, we'll sort it there."

"Stop TOUCHING me!" squealed Xzar, and so Aegis stepped out from beside him and he plummeted immediately into the dirt.

Montaron gave a snort that most definitely took the place of a laugh. Xzar propped himself up on his elbows, spat out gravel, and then thought aloud, "Oh say, could I perchance have his liver?"

Their only consolation was that portly-guy's liver had probably been consumed long before they'd gotten there, and Xzar was about eye-level with the dead wolf's rear end, so he was most probably just gendering the wolf, not inquiring after human organs.

Xzar could walk, as it turned out, probably thanks to the two spells he'd cast which Imoen were sure amounted to some kind of life drain. His skin was mottled purple from ankle to knee, even after he'd started nursing on a healing potion. He limped pretty heavily, and it was obvious he and Montaron wouldn't be making it south on their own. Heck, it became pretty obvious Aegis was going to try carrying him if things went on much longer, and risk whatever tantrum and/or Chill Touch might ensue. 

They ended up breaking camp just a few miles north, shortly after yet another run-in with a small gaggle of Gibberings. It wasn't a bad place to stop; they still ought to have been able to make the inn by sundown on the morrow. An easy two-day diversion for the men, and definitely worth the promise of food, wine, and a good night's sleep.

They settled into their usual watch schedule that night, with Montaron going first, Aegis second, and Imoen third. Xzar collapsed onto his bedroll the moment he'd unraveled it. Since he was never asked to help with camp chores, it took awhile for anyone to check on him; Aegis went to bring him some dinner, and found him already fast asleep.

Xzar was...

... different. Strangely familiar and yet not at all the same. She'd grown up in a keep crowded in clerics and wizards, and now her father was dead and the only person casting spells in her vicinity was an unexpectedly fragile stick of a man who jumped from sentence to sentence with scarcely a discernable link between them. 

The marks on his face were less alien in repose, perhaps because the dark illusion of them was allowed to fade into the mundane realities of a well-executed but aging tattoo. Pores could be discerned, lips could be differentiated from the painted cheshire grin. The only thing more disheveled than his dirty brown hair was the state of his mind. This was a man in his mid to late thirties, a human, a person, with some kind of story. What kind of story? Not a happy one. But he'd crossed from wherever he'd come to be all the way on the Lion's Way, and that had probably meant dealing with more dangers than just a few stray animals.

So she supposed whatever is worst spells were, they were being held in reserve. Especially now that he had something bigger than a halfling to stand between him and an enemy. Aegis was going to heave to step up her game.

She set down the plate she was holding and cautiously shook his shoulder. "Xzar? Hey. Xzar..."

Green eyes flashed open, draoconic hit the air, and Aegis captured a wrist, just instants before a sickly yellow gleam could slap her directly in the face. She held it firmly, thumb pressed hard on the veins and bones. Xzar writhed like something made of liquid, like an animal, like a cat. 

"Hey," Aegis tried to call him back to himself. "Xzar."

He froze, stare fixing on her, breathing heavily. 

"I brought you dinner."

He looked from her face to her hand. She let him go. He scooted a pace back from her and sat fully upright upon the head of his bedroll. Aegis scooped up his plate and offered it to him, and after a few perplexed glances between it and her, he took it quickly to himself and hunched his shoulders over it to eat quickly and bare-handed.

"Is your leg recover-?"

"YES! Yes, now, begone, whatever you are. Hsst."

Aegis settled back on her heels, watching him. "My father was a wizard," she changed the direction of the conversation.

"Oh," said Xzar, mouth full, directly into his chicken, "So you really were just coming from Candlekeep, then. Fresh out from under daddy's robe skirts, hmmm?"

He didn't know how right he was. "I was traveling with him. We were ambushed the day before we met you."

He paused mid-drumstick, green gaze flicking her up and down. Then he finished his bite, chewed, swallowed, and licked his lips quickly clean. "I'm sorry." It was perhaps the nicest thing he'd said to her thus far, and so she was prepared for him to immediately ruin it by asking where to find the body, and if he could harvest its organs. He didn't. "Bandits?"

"No," Aegis hesitated, "but I'm not sure what they were, either."

"Curiosity piques: Did the bad men not say anything, no clues to be interpreted or unraveled? No? Or perhaps it is reticence with us; that could make sense, plenty of rabbits around, after all. I've seen dragons with foots like rabbits, its truth, I swear!"

Aegis smirked. "I think your caravan of thought might have broken up a phrase or two ago."

"What? Oh!" Xzar giggled, and it was difficult to interpret either as maniacal or nervous. "Suppose it might have. 'Afoot.' HeHehehhe... You, you, you." He cleared his throat and straightened up, and very seriously said, "You know wordplay."

"It's not my best skill." He'd jumped from recognizing she was reluctant to divulge too much information to strangers, to recalling her inappropriate pun delivery, so that must have been where 'dragons with foots like rabbits' had come from. The word 'rabbits' itself, however, kept turning up in conversations with him. Maybe like a code word, or slang, or placeholder. "I'm well-read, but I'm not bright. That's Imoen."

"The nature child talks to animals and can read? Impossible. I have it on good authority the two never mix."

"Yeah? Well you might want to reconsider those authorities."

"Hah!" Xzar broke out in a laugh so hard it nearly scared the squirrels from the trees. Urso gave him a reproachful growl. "Oh I would, I could, I'd love to...!"

Just then a shriek of surprise broke the relative calm around the campfire; Xzar jumped so hard that he threw his food clear over his shoulder, and Aegis was on her feet with her hatchet drawn in an instant. Imoen was on the ground with a short sword against her neck. This would have looked somewhat damning, had their pink rogue not been held down by an equally baffled-looking Montaron.

"Montaron!" Aegis cried in alarm, taking a step forward. 

"The devil?!" the halfling shouted, releasing Imoen and backing away to rake her with a surprised glare. "How'd ye-? I didn't even hear you leave!"

"Ow!" Imoen whined, sitting up and rubbing her neck. "What was that for?"

"Ye creeped up behind me, that's what for!" he  snarled back. "When the hells did ye even leave the camp? I thought ye were a bandit or summt'!"

Imoen broke out in a wide, bemused grin. "What luck, I managed to sneak off to the toilet without the halfling noticing me, only to fail while sneaking back in..."

Montaron lifted a brow. Then he cracked a grin. "Guess I'll just have to keep me eyes open a bit wider, eh?"

Imoen narrowed her eyes and shrewdness widened her grin. "You just try, little man. Just try. I've got knives, too."

Aegis sighed. It seemed that this particular near-murder had been unintentional. She decided to ignore the rest of their banter, and turned to head off to sleep.

Behind her, Montaron's tone swelled with both humor and malice; it seemed happiness and threats were nearly one and the same for him: "Got a lot to learn before you're as good as me girl."

Imoen smiled sweetly. "I snuck past once without you noticing, didn't I?"

The halfling snorted, grumbled, and turned back to where he'd been sitting by the fire. Imoen blew a kiss after him, and waved as she sauntered off to bed.

"Goodnight!" Xzar belatedly whispered loudly. 

Montaron had apparently woken up on the wrong side of the bedroll. They'd met several more travelers on the way to the Friendly Arm Inn, two of which the halfling had attempted to rob openly at knifepoint. Why? Hard to say. Both times he was unsuccessful, mostly due to the meddling of Aegis, and by late afternoon the halfling was quite irate with her.

Aegis supposed she ought to look at the bright side of things. After all, things would have gone worse if Xzar had been the one trying to make conversation with passersby. Fortunately, he had been busy comparing various Gibbering organs in the background, and for the most part went unnoticed.

"They were just travelers," Aegis tried to be persuasive. "It's not like they had much, and you could have tried pickpocketing them instead of openly threateningly-"

Imoen whistled to herself at the mention of pickpocketing. Aegis shot her a glance. It seemed someone had gotten sticky fingers while the aforementioned travelers were trying to figure Aegis and Montaron out. Montaron would threaten them, Aegis would say, "What my halfling friend here means to say is-", and then apparently Imoen would nick their things.

Montron growled irritably at both of them and didn't spare either girl. His demeanor was stormy today, and Aegis figured he was just waiting to reach the inn so that they could part company. She sighed, gave up trying to explain her reasoning to him, and instead fell back a pace or so to see what Xzar was up to. Still examining Gibbering pieces.

"Having fun?"

"These spleens are just what I needed for my newest potion," Xzar mumbled, regarding the two dripping organs critically. "Although the one was mildly damaged by my Chill Touch..."

"How unfortunate," she chimed a little dryly. "Did you make the healing potions you've been offering us?"

"What? Oh! Yes," he confirmed, seeming a little more mentally stable now that he had an activity to engage him.

"Did any fauna go into them?" she queried, dreading and yet admittedly curious as to the answer.

"No, no, no, healing potions are dreadfully boring. They're mostly herbs. The regular ones, anyway. Sometimes I strew mice to flavor them, but that's all."

"You'll have to forgive me for being relieved. So, um, why have you picked these two specific spleens out of all the spleens available to you thus far?"

He straightened up and blinked rapidly into the void, before turning to her with a furrowed brow and an extreme tilt of his head. Since he wasn't looking where he was going, he almost walked into a low-hanging tree branch and Aegis had to grab his arm and gently tug him out of the way. The unsolicited touch earned her a yelp, and he jumped straight back into the tree, mildly flagellating himself with leaves. He flailed there for a moment, paused, blinked at her, then the tree, dawdled without objective, and then finally remembered what he'd been doing and resumed walking.

"They're more yellow on the edges," he finally explained, "with a good cyan streak down the center, as you can see here. This means their owners consumed a great deal of elderberry during their lives, and the result can be distilled into a useful essence."

"What do you plan on making with them?"

Xzar stared out into space again, frowning. There were many possible reasons for his displeasure. Perhaps he was making something utterly and despicably awful. Perhaps he'd already forgotten what he was going to make. Maybe he found her annoying, or perhaps he was just unused to anyone showing an interest in him. He might even have found it irritating that his haze of bizarre insanity was being questioned and made less chaotic. All options seemed equally viable, and since Aegis had no means of assessing what was going through the necromancer's head, she just waited expectantly.

Xzar looked down, looked right, kicked a pebble, looked at the sky, and then tilted his head in her direction again. He blinked large green eyes several times, as if bewildered by her, before at last answering. "Good hair soap. Locks in moisture."

Aegis opened her mouth to say something, closed it, reconsidered, and finally shrugged. "Okay. I guess I understand. My hair is always frizzled all over the place, and I've more split ends then I could put a name to."

"You name your hairs?" he asked in amazement.

"No, that was an idiomatic expression."

"You're an idiot?"

This was a wizard, she was speaking to, who had a fine mastery of common; it was fundamentally impossible for an illiterate or even illogical person to master spells, and there was no way he did not know, on a good day, what 'idiomatic' meant. Aegis sighed and decided, "Maybe half so much as you are crazy."

"Hmph, well, you certainly throw insults around a lot!"

"That was a compliment," she decided, and in large part it was. As disturbing as Xzar was, his ramblings were almost silly. They were taking her mind off a lot of things.

"Oh." He smiled. "Thank you. You're a bloodthirsty murderer."

Aegis paused to stare at him. "What?"

"With the Gibberings," he explained. "The bear, the wolf...! You really love wading straight into battle just to slaughter your enemies, hmm, don't you?"

She felt as if all the blood and color might have just drained from her face. The accusation brought up a surge of memories, some old, some very new. She looked away, and said nothing else. One of her hands moved inside her torn armor, wrapping around a lock of silver hair and squeezing tightly. It's presence eased her and she took a steadying breath.

Xzar had seemed confused at many points in this conversation, but when the caught a glimpse of the stare he was giving her, it appeared nothing had confused him quite as much as her reaction to his 'complement.' He watched her curiously for a moment before looking back to his spleens and apparently dismissing the matter from his mind entirely. 

"Hey, is that the inn?" Imoen called. "I think I see a big stone tower. We must almost be there!"

"Thank the gods of shadow," Montaron muttered hatefully. "If I had to spend one more night with ye women..."

"At least we don't snore!" Imoen giggled, and flicked a coin to the halfling. "Here ya go, I nicked it off the last traveler you molested." Montaron blinked and eyed her. He grunted and pocketed the coin.

"Was that a bribe not to get offended?" he growled, mildly amused despite himself.

"You bet your short little arse it was. So, what you thinking we should eat tonight? Steak? Ribs?"

"Beer," Montaron snorted.

Aegis piped up from the rear. "I heard the B-word! Where?"

"At the inn Aegis!" Imoen laughed.

"Oh." The ranger deflated slightly, before realizing the inn was close at hand and would likely have all kinds of splendid alcohol. "Huzzah! I can practically smell it now, a big old tankard filled with honey golden liquid, frothing and bitter! Hang in there, beer, Mama's coming for you!"

The halfling glanced back at her for the first time in the past five hours. Then he shot Imoen a suspicious look. "She drinks?"

"Ha!" Imoen grinned. "You just wait and see, master halfling."

Perhaps he need do neither, and indeed only listen, because Aegis was already absorbed in the idea of alcohol:

"Beer, beer, beer, tiddly beer, beer, beer! Eh!
A long time ago, way back in history,
When all there was to drink was nothing but cups of tea,
Along came a man by the name of Charlie Mopps,
And he invented a wonderful drink and he made it out of hops, Eh!"

"You're a terrible singer," Xzar informed her. 

"Am not!" Aegis disputed, laughing. "But I get better with a drink in me, I'll promise you that!"

The Friendly Arm Inn looked more like a small castle than any typical Inn. The main structure was a keep several stories high with towers, crenellations, and arrow slits. It was surrounded by a sturdy wall and a moat, which enclosed several buildings in addition to the inn itself. It was in a few small ways not unlike Candlekeep, but it was still very new to two girls who had never previously traveled.

Their party of four queued up in a short line to enter the outer wall, and were told by the guardsmen that no violence was allowed within its walls. Aegis could already hear drinking songs echoing cheerily from the tavern's main floor, gave a whoop of delight, and loped eagerly towards the staircase that would bring her to the door of the inn. Imoen skipped after with their halfling in tow, and Xzar lagged behind to peer suspiciously at a gaggle of children and their kite.

"Hello, friend!" called a voice just to the left of the stairs. Aegis slowed, belatedly recalling why they'd come here at all: To find Gorion's friends.

Standing before her was a man dressed in traveling robes and leaning upon a walking staff. He was about a foot shorter than herself, and he looked for all the world like a wizard. If she'd been carrying around a list of 'plausible traits that might identify a friend of Gorion,' he'd have ticked off a good many boxes. "Can I help you?" she queried.

"Yes, yes, I was wondering: Would you perhaps go by the name of Aegis? Of Candlekeep?"

He was smiling at her, and he knew her name, but there was something in his eyes that cautioned her to reticence. Urso puffed himself and started to growl. And while she did not see it, for it happened far behind her, Xzar whipped his head around, took stock of her location, stiffened, and then bolted to close the distance between them.

Aegis realized she'd hesitated too long in trying to figure out what to say. "I am. Excuse me, but do I know you?"

"Oh no, I'm afraid you do not- not yet, anyway," the man murmured sweetly, one hand drawing shapes in the air at belt level. "I am called Tarnesh, and mine is the last face you will ever see."

Suddenly there were four of him, all moving around her, and not one of them was standing in the exact spot Tarnesh had originally stood. Aegis lurched backwards in surprise and promptly drew her axe, but she had no idea which of the four figures to aim for, if any. Four faced leered from all sides, their tongues chewing out word after word of Draconic.

Inn patron screamed; guards took note from across the bailey but would be too slow to respond. Urso jumped to the ground and feinted at one; the image didn't react, but Aegis wasn't sure whether that was because it wasn't real, or because Tarnesh simply called its bluff. "Aegis!" Imoen shouted. "What the-!?"

White energy collected in four mirrored hands, and then flew up into the air like so many firework candles, and then arced down towards Aegis. Belatedly, having waited far too long to react, Aegis recognized the,: They look exactly liked the projectiles Imoen could conjure from her pilfered wand. 

"Shit."

Each and every single one felt as if she'd forgotten her training armor behind at some practice session with Obe and the Gatewarden. They seemed to pass her armor entirely, even tattered as it was, to bury directly into her skin. She felt like this must have been what it felt like to take an arrow to the chest, only over and over and over again, and the intensity certainly knocked all the wind from her lungs. 

That wasn't hyperbole. She choked on something, spat out blood onto her hand, and stared bewildered from it to the wizard(s).

A green hum of energy gathered around one of the four images of Tarnesh and then a cord of green energy leached off of him and spiraled past Aegis' cheek. All four images of the mage staggered but did not stop casting. Xzar, presumably, had just marked out which of the four mages was real.

Aegis lurched forward, fingers numb, clenched against pain, praying the 'correct' image wouldn't change. But before she even got there, an arrow flew past her side, followed Xzar's cue, hit the same apparition in the shoulder, and sunk deep with a juicy noise. The Draconic cut briefly to silence. Aegis grabbed Tarnesh empty handed, fumbling past his staff and seizing hold of a wad of cloak and robes. She dragged him towards her with the aim of cracking his skull open with her axe, but her balance was off, and her head was dizzy. She ended up using him as more of a crutch than anything. He tried to start casting against, heart hammering rapidly under her hand.

Monatron reached her. His short sword went in the wizard's side. Any last minute spells or carefully orchestrated contingencies never came into place. He gurgled in blood. Montaron twisted and ripped the blade back out. Aegis released him. And Tarnesh fell back against the cobbled road and brained himself on the very bottom stair of the keep.

He was dead and relieved of most of his effects by the time the guards reached him.

"Aegis!" Imoen had reached her and was feeling over her armor for injuries. "Ae?! Are you okay?!"

Aegis was seeing stars. She tried to sink back on her heels but ended up stumbling, tripped, and falling backwards into someone with an 'oof!' Whoever it was grabbed quickly hold of her and propped her upright. Imoen followed after and tried to help; she uncorked a healing potion with her teeth and pressed it to Aegis's lips.

"C'mon, drink! Drink!"

Aegis obeyed. The world teetered. She was vaguely conscious of Monatron talking to the guards in a bristled and unrepentant manner. She felt as hands directed her to support the healing potion on her own; and then realized that this was so Imoen could turn away to back up Montaron with a friendlier smile and friendlier words.

The healing potion help. It took off the worst edge of the pain and settled her diaphragm enough that she felt like she could breathe. The world stopped teetering. "Ow," she belatedly said, and it needed to be pointed out that belated 'ows' were the most useless of all the 'ows,' particularly if no one was around to hear them. Wait, could anyone hear them?

Aegis became curious as to who exactly had caught her and tried to look left and then right to catch sight of them. Aha. There was Xzar, supporting her as best as a feeble wizard could, looking slightly amused, slightly concerned, slightly overtaxed, and slightly predatory. She decided the slight concern was good enough for her and focused on regaining footing. Up and... oof. She still had to lean heavily on the wizard's shoulder.

"What the... hells was that all about?" she muttered at last, clutching her own aching chest. "He tried to kill me!"

One of the guards stepped past Imoen and up to her. "We were hoping you could tell us. Are you wounded, miss?"

"Ow. Yes," she groaned, spitting out some residual blood from her mouth.

"I surmise he might have been an assassin," Xzar cooed delightedly. "Tell me dear, have you many enemies?"

"Hell no-" she snarled and then paused, thinking of a bone-armored knight and a dead old wizard. She looked quickly to Imoen. "Maybe?" she amended, looking back to the guard. "I'm sorry, I didn't..."

"You have nothing to be sorry about, miss. Violence is not tolerated in the walls of the Inn, but dozens of witnesses saw the mage attack you, and you're clear in our book. I'd be careful if I were you, though. Inn's filled with some shady patrons. If you're attracting unwanted attention, then keep your eyes open."

Aegis grimaced.

"The temple's just to the right there- tell the priestess that Gerald sent you and she'll fix you up, courtesy of the Inn. Good day to you."

The guard departed and Aegis finally managed to stand on her own. She nodded her thanks to Xzar as Imoen retook her side. She  wiped blood from her mouth and onto a shirt sleeve. "I- I- need- Hells that hurt.  W-where's this temple?"

"Here, come on," Imoen coaxed, giving Aegis a fresh shoulder to lean on. Although she'd just finally managed to stand without aid, one step had the world spinning again, so Aegis took the support. "I see the temple, I'll take you there. One step at a time, now..."

Chapter Text

From the outside, the Temple of Wisdom looked like nothing more than three cozy baguettes capped with a fancy dome, but the interior was coated in reflective colored glass and dangling quartz that sent light tinkling through every facet of it. It was a temple dedicated to the gnomish god Garl Glittergold, and run by high priestess Gellanna Mirroshade. She took one look at the two of them (with Aegis stooping to duck under the low doorway), and quickly ushered them into the rear of the little shrine.

It wasn't until her mail shirt, gambeson, and tunic were removed that Aegis could see the horrible dark black bruises where the magic missiles had hit her.

"Holy Oghma's Giant Ass," exclaimed Imoen as Madam Mirroshade tutted. "I done never seen marks so bad what weren't bleedin! You been whooped something rotten!"

"I'm spitting up blood," Aegis reminded her, letting the gnomish woman tilt her this way and that.

They exited the temple only a quarter of an hour later. Aegis rolled her shoulders and stretched her arms forward, back, and out to the side as she tried to work out some of the kinks. No healing magic was perfect, although clerics worked better miracles than healing potions.

Montaron looked to have already headed into the inn, but Xzar was leaning against the temple entrance and waiting for them. He had an intense stare and a serpentine smile about him.

While listening to Galena Mirroshade make supplications onto Garl for healing magics, it had eventually occurred to Aegis that Xzar might have indirectly saved her life that day. He hadn't healed her, no, and neither had he killed Tarnesh. Yet by accident or design, he had reacted swiftly and correctly guessed which of Tarnesh's images had been genuine, allowing the party to focus all of their attacks on the real thing.

Aegis was grateful, and felt it necessary to show her appreciation. So upon seeing the necromancer, she greeted him with a hug.

Every nerve in the man's body stiffened, till he was rigid as a board. He opened his mouth, and shrieked at the top of his lungs, at an ungodly pitch, "STOP TOUCHING ME!"

Aegis let go. Xzar stumbled backwards, tripped over his robe, stumbled, fell over a fence, and ended up falling backwards into a pig pen. Aegis and Imoen shared a look. Then Aegis came up to the fence and peered down at him. Xzar was still stiff as a board, covered in pig waste and mud, and had an utterly miserable expression on his face. His feet were still propped up on the fence.

"Dirty," he mumbled unhappily, as a pig came up to peruse his hair.

Aegis couldn't repress a laugh. She waved the pig away and reached down, grabbing the necromancer by both elbows and pulling him back over the fence. He debated himself, and looked about ready to complain all over again, but by the time he was sorted out enough to do so, he had been righted and Aegis had stepped back to give him some space.

He took note of the grime on his robes and seemed to shrink several inches as his spine compressed. He looked up at her with pale green eyes and pouted. "Dirty," he whimpered, and cringed when Urso padded up to sniff at him. 

"Yeah..." Aegis smiled bashfully. "Come on, lets get inside the inn. We can purchase some bath water, I'm sure," she promised, beckoning him with a hand. He seemed oblivious or confused. She leaned left, and right, trying to decide how to move him without touching him, and eventually settled for tugging on his sleeve.

Success! He shuffled after her, looking miserable. She gestured to the inn, and after a few uncertain steps he walked beside her, with her.

"I'm sorry," she added, "I didn't mean to startle you. Should have just said: I'm very thankful you were there to help us today."

He seemed to brighten slightly at this. Montaron was nowhere to be seen, and Aegis assumed he was already inside, drinking. Aegis found this to be quite an injustice, and became determined to drink twice as much to make up for the delay.

"Can you hear them?" he asked distractedly. "The old bones and boulders. Calling up like wisps of smoke between the cracks of a newly consecrated foundation, scrubbed away yet never gone, at least, not in memory?"

"Can't say I do."

"Strange..."

First thing came first; Xzar needed someone to take care of him.

It only took Aegis a few copper pieces to buy an extra long tunic for Xzar to wear while the inn workers washed his robes, but she ended up spending two solid hours trying to convince Xzar to actually go into his room and take his bath, a time period during which the water had to be re-heated and re-paid-for three separate times. Her raccoon had long ago tired of this silly argument and had gone off to Aegis's room to sleep and investigate a previously unopened bag of sunflower seeds.

What the necromancer's problem with bathing was, Aegis wasn't certain. Xzar had an utterly maddening way of leading her through logic games (or illogic games, as the case may be) for a whole of fifteen minutes before she realized he'd gone radically off topic and tried to bring him back to the notion of bathing.

Was he dead-set against removing his own clothing, even when completely alone? Was he allergic to relaxation? Did water vex him, for some reason? Was he scared the water was somehow toxic?

Some of these guesses fit with the idea that the necromancer might be paranoid, but he was also very literally covered in pig shit, and at that point Aegis was beyond caring. One final (il)logic game culminated in her dragging Xzar into his own bedroom and pushing him fully clothed into the bath tub. Xzar shrieked, sputtered and tried to climb out, so Aegis grabbed him by the scruff of his robes and shoved him back in.

"Xzar," she snapped. "You need to-"

He tried to get out again, water was sloshing everywhere. She grabbed him by the hair, and once more threw him back in.

"You-"

He dove this time. She grabbed him by the arms and forced him down. At this point it wasn't so much a question of getting him clean as a matter of principle. She'd put too much effort into this to give up.

"Xzar," she growled.

The necromancer froze and looked up at her with big eyes.

"You're very, very dirty, Xzar," she said suddenly, latching onto an idea: What if she played along with the mage's strange (if inconsistent) preoccupation with 'dirt'?

It worked! Xzar shrank slowly down from her.

"Covered in all sorts of nasty dryad twigs, child boogers, pig filth and sweat from the brows of hardworking peasant farmers!"

He cowered and ducked into the water up to his nose. Aegis broke into a smile. She released his arms and shouldered off her pack, from which she produced his fresh clothes, and set them slowly, deliberately down beside the tub. "These are for you. Try not to get them wet or dirty. You need to change clothes so that we can wash your green robes. Okay? "

"But-"

"They're very dirty."

He swallowed whatever he was going to say and was quiet. Aegis eyed him critically a moment more, to see if he'd protest again, and then waved and turned, leaving the room. Xzar watched her go, and then looked at the clothing. He sighed.

"No respectable member of my family would ever be caught dead submitting to such an unnecessarily liquid-infused excuse for a 'bath'," he pouted. "And I got my spleens wet. But then I suppose they were already muddy..."

Aegis was dying for a pint by that point. Absolutely dying. But as she'd just argued with a crazy person for two hours and then thrown him fully clothed into a tub of water, she knew that the moral thing to do was to wait for him to finish bathing. With Xzar, she presumed this could take anywhere from five minutes to the next six days. And afterward he might streak naked through the inn, and she'd have to catch him and drag him back to his room, and well that would all be easier if she stayed by his door and didn't inebriate herself.

With a regretful sigh she sat down in a chair in the common area of the first floor. Would she get any ale at all that night, before bedtime came? She'd just have to wait and hope.

Xzar surprised her by emerging fully dressed with his hair combed only fifteen minutes later. If it weren't for the outlandish tattoos on his face he'd even seem presentable. She blinked and stood up to greet him. This was so anticlimactic that she was sure something else must have gone awry, and so waited patiently for the necromancer to reveal what had happened.

"You didn't buy me any undergarments," he whined, and that was true, because they weren't strictly necessary given a long tunic and a good belt. "Mine were soggy." Then his face brightened. "But you dropped your pack in the room so I took-"

Aegis facepalmed. "Okay," was all she said, as several inn patrons turned to glance at them in alarm. "Okay. Let's just go get something to eat."

His face brightened more, and he seemed to forget any hard feelings he might have harbored over the bathing episode. "Okay," he chimed, and proceeded to skip towards the stairs, almost exactly like Imoen. Aegis sighed and followed after him. At least she was going to get her ale.

Montaron was enjoying the company of several other halflings. They were all drinking at eating well, ribbing each other nastily and telling black jokes. They were all of them scoundrels if appearances were any guide, and not one of them had refrained from stealing coins from another during the course of their meal. They were laughing about the plights of the taller folk, and being generally mocking. One of them made the mistake of saying he could drink anyone present under the table.

An ale mug slammed down on their table, disturbing their humor. The halflings turned as one to see a human ranger, female and twice as broad as any decent female ought to be, with wild blonde hair and a complexion far to lean and hard to interest a halfling.

"You're on," Aegis declared, and sat down despite the hostile glares she was receiving. "Fifty gold says I can drink you under the table. And let's see, there's six of you. Three hundred gold says I can drink you all under, one at a time."

Evil grins gleamed. Montaron lifted a brow. It was shaping up to be an interesting night.

"Th-th-that's her," Kalid stated, more assuredly this time.

He'd watched for the last twenty minutes as the blonde ranger drank much more alcohol than he would have deemed safe. Now she was singing bawdy drinking songs with the roughest looking group in the tavern. But the halflings suddenly didn't seem so threatening anymore. They were all drunk, singing and hollering loudly for more food and ale, as if pacified by her rambunctious demeanor.

As much as Khalid might have wanted to dismiss her, as unimpressive and churlish as she might have seemed, an uncanny voice in the back of his head insisted. This was the girl they were looking for. She was blonde and blue eyed, as Khalid remembered her to be in infancy. Aegis had been a chunky baby; it was not far-fetched to think she'd become a broad-shouldered adult. "It has to be her. Sh-should we ap-p-proach?"

"I don't know, I'm still not convinced," Jaheira mused slowly, lips pursed. "She looks more like a thug than an acolyte. And aside from that, where is our friend?"

"A-anything c-could have happened on the road. All the m-more reason to ask her," he said, turning to his wife with wide eyes. "Perhaps they were separated! Come now, Jaheira, y-you noticed her the m-moment she entered the inn. She f-fits Gorion's description." He gestured rapidly with a hand. "G-gorion even briefly mentioned a-alcohol, and y-you j-joked yourself he might be c-covering up for a t-troublesome child, heh."

"As I went home on Monday night as drunk as drunk could be
 I saw a horse outside the door where my old horse should be 
 Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me 
 Who owns that horse outside the door where my old horse should be?"

Jaheria shot him a look. "I didn't expect the story to enjoy striking up drinking competitions with unsavory bar patrons and then singing about infidelity, busty maidens, and the pleasure of being inebriated.

"Oh, You're drunk you're drunk, you silly old fool!
 As drunk as drunk can be!
 Why! That's a lovely sow which my mother just sent to me!"

"'Now many a-days I've traveled, a hundred miles or more, but...
  A sow a-bearing a saddle is summat I've never done seen before!"

Khalid blushed a little bit. Some versions of this song had especially vulgar final versus. Perhaps Jaheira was right: This woman seemed a tad boisterous for someone who had grown up all their life within the safe walls of Candlekeep, and under the nose of such an overprotective parent as Gorion.

By the time Imoen realized Aegis was down on the main floor of the inn, it was because the other woman was singing loudly and well on her way to getting roaring drunk. Imoen was happy for her; Aegis deserved to relax for a night. Whiiiich of course meant Imoen needed to snag her gold purse before the halflings in her vicinity could rob her blind. She left Aegis with the copper and silvers she'd need to keep the ale coming, and then made herself scarce.

Imoen wanted to keep an eye on things from afar. It wasn't the halflings that worried her, exactly; Aegis was a sociable person and could make friends with almost anyone if given the time (and provided they didn't bait out a bar fight). Montaron had helped save her life not three hours before, and could probably be trusted to keep at least one eye on her.

But Imoen's big sister had been attacked once already that evening! Imms just wanted to be on the look out if any other danger was coming. She kept her eyes peeled and scanned the room over and over again. She watched whenever bar patrons left or entered.

Khalid sighed and turned to his own food, eating his bread and cheese in silence. To be honest, he was worried about Gorion. The wizard should have reached the inn a day or two past, and perhaps Khalid was chasing leads where there were none to be found. Gorion would make his way to the inn in his own good time. Perhaps his departure had been delayed, or maybe he'd left the main roads entirely and been slowed down by the frequent rains.

"Hello!" a bright voice chirped from near his shoulder. Khalid nearly leaped out of his seat. Jahiera, who had been similarly surprised, tensed to face the newcomer. They found themselves looking at a short, pink-or-purple-clad girl with a silly smile on her face and happy brown eyes. "I'm sorry, I was looking at your ears! You're elves, right?"

Khalid opened his mouth as if to say something, and then closed it again. His heart was pounding from that mild surprise; she was, ah, very close for someone he hadn't heard approaching him. "Erm. H-half elves," he responded at last. "I-I'm sorry, d-do we know y-you?"

The girl seemed to perk up curiously at the sound of Khalid's speech impediment and he winced, looking to his wife for support. Jahiera's brow was furrowed and she immediately prompted, "Well? Speak up!" 

"Oh! No I don't supposed you do, but, see, I done noticed you were watching my friend kiiiiinda closely, and she just got attacked just outside the inn a few hours ago, so I'm a weeeee bit paranoid!"

Her tone was deceptively happy, but Khalid perked up with concern; from what the other bar patrons had been saying, a wizard had pounced someone on the inn steps just prior to nightfall and been summarily dealt with. 

"She's the loud one with the crazy blonde hair, drinking with all the disreputable halflings! Sooo, I was wondering, out of an abundance of caution, could I perhaps ask your names?"

Jahiera quirked a brow. She glanced briefly at her husband to ask a silent question, and then possibly thought better of actually needing the answer and looked back to the girl. "I am Jahiera," she answered simply; she wasn't much for games and has nothing to hide. "This is my husband, Khalid."

The girl's face brightened immediately. "Oh thank Oghma. You're the people Gorion was talking about! I'm very pleased to meet you!"

The name of their missing wizard piqued both half-elves' curiousity immediately. "P-pardon," said Khalid, now very worried. "D-do you k-know Gorion?"

The girl nodded and then frowned. She glanced back at her blonde-haired companion, and then looked back to the two half-elves. "Um. Well. I did. My name's Imoen. Could I sit down?"

Jahiera and Khalid exchanged a look, and then quickly made room for her to sit at their table. "Imoen," Jaheira repeated. "Gorion mentioned that name in his letters."

"Yeah, I'm Aegis' friend," Imoen clarified, sitting down and folding her hands in her lap and looking suddenly reluctant to meet their eyes. Still, that name: Aegis. It confirmed what the two of them had suspected.

"Then g-goodness child, what are you two doing h-here a-alone?" Khalid asked. "Wh-where is Gorion? He d-did not mention t-that you would be c-coming."

"Um, well I wasn't supposed to. I sort of snuck out after them. I couldn't let Aegis go on a huge adventure without me, now could I? And stay at home washing the inn? No way! I knew old Gorion would forgive me. And me and Aegis aren't alone! We made friends on the way," Imoen said, still refraining from eye contact and studying her own hands.

Khalid swallowed hard. "And G-gorion?"

"They, um, they got attacked just before I found them," Imoen told them quietly. "Aegis got away, but Mister Gorion didn't. It was awful. There was this huge, evil-looking knight, dressed in spike-covered armor. He had a wizard lady with him and two ogres."

Imoen looked up at the elves, and was happy(?) to see that they were both pale as ghosts and hanging on her every word. It seemed that they really were the people Gorion had told Aegis to meet.

"I found Aegis the next morning and we back-tracked and buried him. There wasn't any sign of the knight or his wizard. Aegis told me that Gorion had told her what to do if for any reason they were separated: He'd said to get to the Friendly Arm Inn, and meet up with two friends: Khalid and Jaheira. He said she needed to stay abroad, and to keep moving. So... well... here we are. Ready for a life-changing adventure," Imoen smiled weakly, ironically, but nevertheless charmingly.

Jahiera murmured something to herself in elfin and looked down for a moment, as if in prayer. Khalid sat back in his seat, look shocked by the news. But then, not a second later, he sat forward again. "I c-can only imagine what you a-are going through. T-to lose... forgive me, b-but Gorion was also a v-very good friend to us."

"Do you have any idea why a creepy knight wanted to kill him or Aegis?" Imoen asked hopefully. "We're still baffled."

"No. No idea," Jaheira answered, her voice low and suffused in some unnamable emotion. "Gorion was very... unspecific in his letters, and we always received the feeling that he was hiding something important. Writing would have been an insecure method of communicating sensitive information, and if he had meant to let us in on all his many secrets... he would have done so face to face. Now it seems whatever mysteries he kept have gone to the grave with him."

"Hey, look, that's why I had to come talk to you before Aegis noticed you were watching her," Imoen said. "Please try not to talk to her about it more than necessary, she was really close to the old man and well, that first day... I wasn't sure I could get her to leave him. It was awful. I've never seen her cry like that, and I've known her since we were toddlers."

"I s-see w-why she is d-drinking," Khalid murmured understandingly.

Imoen blinked and smiled to mask what she was really thinking: Aegis really just liked a good cup of beer. "She's been okay, as long as she doesn't think about him too much. She just keeps her head focused on whatever it is we're doing. So, um, what did you guys plan to do once you'd met up with Gorion?"

The two shared another painful look. Jaheira spoke. "We were planning—still plan—on traveling south to Naschel, to investigate the iron crisis. Although the road is dangerous, perhaps too dangerous for-"

"That's totally no problem!" Imoen assured her. "Look we can't go back to Candlekeep. That means everything, everyone, and everywhere we've ever known, basically disappeared from our book of options in just one night. Gorion said we could trust you guys, and also said we had to keep on the move. And I know Aegis, the best thing for her is going to be to focus on a goal. She always wanted to adventure some day! So we definitely want to head south with you."

Jahiera smiled tightly, in an expression that didn't meet her eyes. "I was going to say that: Although the road is dangerous, you would be in safe company. We will not be leaving the foster child of our dear friend alone on the road, not even in the best of times and certainly not when spike-covered knights are chasing her."

Imoen beamed. Then she sat forward over the table, and propped up her cheek on one finger, and did a think. "Naschel. Hey, we met two guys on the road. They also wanted to go to Naschel, to investigate the iron crisis. We told them we might not be able to make the trip south, but that we'd know once we got here. Well, now we know! I guess this means we can group up? Six is safer than four, right?"

Jahiera lifted a brow. "The problems in Naschel are drawing many adventurers. I'd like to meet these friends of yours."

Imoen smiled and opened her mouth to say something. Then she recalled exactly who she'd been spending the last two days traveling with. Somehow, she didn't think Jahiera would appreciate Xzar's particular brand of crazy...

...or the fact that Montaron occasionally tried to rob random passersby...

And it wasn't like Imoen was especially attached to either of them, or needed to travel south with them, exactly.

But Aegis might be another story. 

Chapter Text

By the time Aegis was done drinking, five halflings were under the table and she and Montoron were laughing and roaring like old friends. Montoron eventually stumbled up to bed, and Aegis finally eased herself up from the table a few minutes later and made to stagger for the staircase.

She was comfortably inebriated, but she still noticed her sister making an effort to flag her down. After a moment of drunken indecision she ambled over to the corner where Imoen was, and look curiously at the table's other inhabitants.

"Aegis! These are the people we've been looking for," Imoen laughed. "Meet Jaheira and Khalid!" Khalid gave a small wave, and Jahiera nodded sharply. Aegis looked from one to the other, and blinked several times. Then she laughed.

"Ahm so c'mpletely wasted I can barely tell what d'rection is up. D'ya mind if I sleep first, introduce later?" Khalid blushed slightly but the unsteady ranger just favored him with a radiant smile. "Ey, it's not so bad, I didn't git in a fight this time! I'll be fine come mornin'… Uhm." She turned towards the stairs, and with what she retained of a rational it occurred to her that she did not have the coordination to surmount them. Unless she kept a masterful handle on the railing, maybe? "Uh, Imoen, lil help?"

Imoen giggled and hopped up to her surrogate sister, giving her an arm to lean on. "I'll be right back!" she called to the two half-elves, and then was off.

Jaheira gave a hard-pressed smile at her departing back, and then gave her husband a look. This colorful young ranger wasn't exactly the sort of child they'd been expecting.

Khalid tilted his head to the side. "What did she mean about not getting in a fight?"

"The drunk say things they do not necessarily mean."

"And other things w-which they definitely do..." worried Khalid.

Hazy.

A dark underground chamber in some unknowable void.

A vaguely familiar man was lashed, chest bared. 

Some especial property had brought him here; as if faithless, as if false.

The knife was ready.

Xzar waited until Montaron was asleep and snoring heavily under the spell of that most ubiquitous of poisons: Alcohol. Then he folded his spellbook closed and slunk out of bed, kneeling before the halfing's pack to flick it open and sort deftly through the contents.

He'd neglected to filch the spellbook. Wasteful. Xzar would need to creep about that e'en and work out where the body had ultimately been disposed of. Might not be an entire waste; had only been decomposing a few hours... Not that he expected the tome of a generalist to contain many insights, but there were still too many holes, holes that needed to be filled one way or another, and opportunities ought not be overlooked, even for the simplest of cantrips.

There. 

Xzar extracted the scroll and unraveled it, folding open parchment to peruse the contents. Empty? No. He stood and stepped out of their room, and went to the fire place, to lean over and hold the parchment near the heat. The disappearing ink, previously invisible to the naked eye, became pigmented again. Black swam over the surface, revealing a message:

Be it known to all those of evil intent, that a bounty has been placed upon the head of a twenty year old human woman who goes by the name of "Aegis," the foster child of a mage named Gorion.

Last seen in the area of Candlekeep, this person is to be killed in quick order. Those returning with proof of the deed shall receive no less than 200 coins of gold.

As always, any who should reveal this notice to the forces of law shall join the target in their fate.

He slid his thumbnail up, under the name, not hers, not 'Aegis', but his.

Familiar? No. Too long ago. Too young. Too many years starved for the whispers, the Mad God's knife in his ears. A name murmured by one mentor to another, a hunt abandoned, something stolen, Stop stop stop stop stop stop stop- stop thinking about-Rabbits, heHehHEhehEHe!

He smothered his face into the paper, into his hand; holding in laughs, rocking. 

I found something I found something I found something; keep it secret; keep it happy; keep it safe; wait and see; wait and watch; watch and see...!

You WILL Learn.

Aegis was slumped over the breakfast table and groaning pitifully, her head in her arms. Montaron laughed and elbowed her good naturedly. Although this made Aegis consider vomiting all over him, she was relieved that he seemed to be getting along with her again.

"Nice one lass," he said with sly approval, "Ya drank with the dwarves last night!"

Aegis moaned. Jaheria sat across from them, her lips pursed in a disapproving smile. It was fortunate that Aegis was too busy being hung-over to notice, or she might have felt some second-hand shame through Jaheira's connection to Gorion. Khalid was far less judgmental, and only gently patted her back.

"There, t-there," he chuckled. "You were p-practically raised in a church all your life after all."

"What!" Montaron disbelieved, laughing harder. "Raised in a church? Candlekeep then? Ha! Girl, where the hells did you learn to drink like that? Snuck a few brews behind the preachers' backs, eh?"

Imoen laughed "You bet!" she agreed sunnily. Khalid blinked at her. Imoen blinked "I mean, uh, no, of course not! Wouldn't dream of it! We were both good little church girls, honest!"

"D'you think th' temple has a hangover cure?" Aeigis moaned. 

"Probably," Jaheira muttered. "No doubt marked up by five or six times its proper value, given it's attached to a world-famous inn..."

Khalid favored Aegis with a remarkably gentle smile. "I'll o-order you some s-simple, uh, t-toast," he decided, and stood to do just that. 

"Poor Aegy," Imoen chirped as she slid into the chair Khalid had vacated and took over gentle-back-patting duty. "Don't worry, at least it can't get any worse-"

'It' then immediately proceeded to get 'worse,' because Xzar had finally alighted on the main floor of the inn, and his voice, to put it in a word, was shrill. "Good moo-o-oor-ning!" 

Aegis cringed so hard it almost felt as if she swooned. The necromancer hopped up to their table, did a double-take of the glowering half-elf, and then promptly sat down on Aegis' opposite side. He furrowed his brow suspiciously at Jaheira one long moment before apparently deciding to dismiss her presence entirely and to carry on in a piercing falsetto: "My, I'm hungry this morning. Do you think they have any fish heads, Monty?"

The halfling grunted in annoyance at his traveling companion. "For breakfast? No, ya durned fool. N' stop making such a racket."

"Oops, nevermind about that 'not getting worse' stuff," Imoen whispered to Aegis with a wink.

"But Monty, I like fish heads!" Still high-pitched. Still loud.

To Aegis' misfortune, Montaron continued to argue with him, resulting in several more effeminate, indignant responses before at long last her poor head could take the racket no longer, and she finally reached up and and grabbed Xzar by the collar of his robes, jerking his head down to her level.

"Xzar," Aegis growled. "I have a headache, and you're making it worse."

The necromancer stared at her in surprise. He blinked several times before black-painted lips curved into the shape of an 'o'. "Your head hurts?" he asked cheerily, apparently entirely indifferent to the fact that Aegis was both 'touching him' and indeed holding his head near the level of the table. "Why didn't you say so? I have a potion for that!"

Aegis blinked once, and then twice, uncomprehending. Hair was in her face and blood was pounding in her ears. She slowly released Xzar. He rummaged around himself for a moment, in robes and pouches he'd reclaimed at some undisclosed hour, and then turned and proudly placed a vial directly into her hand. Aegis looked at it, and then at Xzar. At last she looked to Montaron, who shrugged. He made it a point never to drink any of Xzar's potions, and in his book she was already crazy for drinking the healing ones.

Aegis looked back at the vial, uncorked it with her teeth, and sat up to a wave of vertigo. She downed the potion. Immediately the whirling clouds of agony that swirled through her brain began to disperse. The pounding subsided. The urge to puke left the building. In less than sixty seconds, she'd been left with nothing more than a mild headache. She rubbed one of her temples and pushed hair from her face, and thought about exactly how she felt. Then she turned a wide-eyed and deeply impressed look to Xzar, who was watching her expectantly.

"I love you," she told him sincerely, which caused Imoen to break out laughing and Montaron to sputter and cackle. Xzar blinked, and it was clear to anyone who was observing him that she might as well have just spoken in druidic. Seeing the matter was settled, however, he turned about and stole the food Khalid had brought for her.

Khalid blinked. "I beg your pardon sir, but th-that was for-"

"No, no," Aegis protested, waving Khalid down as a necromancer gorged himself on buttered toast.  "Let him have it. He gave me a headache potion. I can at least forgive him for having absolutely no idea where or who he is for at another five minutes.

Khalid looked at her in surprise. Clearly he would also refuse to take potions from this wildly tattooed man, and while Aegis didn't blame him, she had no regrets whatsoever that her hangover had just miraculously subsided.  "This is your, your other tr-traveling companion?" Khalid noted as politely as possible, "I-interesting, ah, choice in c-company."

Aegis glanced to him, noticed Jaheira looked like she'd swallowed a lemon, and realized it was time to sober up and snip all these problems in the bud so that the six of them could get to Nashkel safely. 

"This is Xzar," she introduced on Xzar's behalf. "He's more than a bit off his rocker, and even Montaron will tell you that."

"Even? I'd be the first one to tell ye that!" the halfling snapped.

"He can still spellcast," Aegis vouched, "And it was helpful to have four of us on the way up here. We're all going south at the same time, so even if we split up after arrival, we might as well travel as a group, right?"

Khalid didn't appear predisposed to tell her 'no,' but Jaheira sure did: "Some individuals add to a group; others subtract."

"He's not so bad," Imoen had to help Aegis even if Xzar absolutely was bad, but then, whoops, also shot a sly grin over her shoulder. "At least he didn't almost try to kill me!"

"Damn straight I did!" Montaron snapped with half a grin, "And I would have, too! Teach you to sneak around the campfire while I'm on watch!"

Jaheria shut all banter down: "Enough," she snapped. "This conversation is getting old. Let's eat and depart this place. "

Montaron raised a brow. Imoen passed him a gold under the table, a mute bribe for him to keep from taking offense. Montaron took it with a hairy foot, and smiled with saccharine charm across the table. "Of course. Breakfast. Mm."

But eating and departing was easier said than done. In lieu of a smithy, Aegis needed to quickly purchase armor that hadn't yet been shredded by a bear, and Imoen was hankering to equip her older sister with some kind of shield. Provisions also cost money, and while those were bought in copper more than gold, coin was coin.

After consulting their pocketbooks, Aegis made an executive decision: They needed to linger around the Inn for at least a day to earn some spending cash, which could be done by asking around to find residents and patrons in need of aid.

Jaheira wasn't in a particularly good mood about the delay, and frankly neither was Montaron, but this ended up being the only thing the two of them did agree on, because they spent the rest of the morning tossing unsubtle barbs at each other. And when Aegis ended up accepting a woman's request to go slink around the western wall of the bailey and 'club some Hobgoblin heads in,' both protested.

"Not even offering a reward," Montaron growled. "Just 'thanks for a job well done!' Keeps the bread on the table that does."

"If the entire point of this digression is to afford supplies, should we not be focused on tasks which can help us in that regard? You cannot solve all of the world's woes on your own; how is a ring of only sentimental value worth our time?"

It ought to be noted that neither Khalid nor Xzar seemed particularly upset with the delay, which Aegis might have been thankful for, if that was not also the only thing they seemed to agree on. The former was growing pinched and strained in his efforts to be 'nice' in disapproving of everything the necromancer did, while the latter was repeatedly stoking fires by deriding elves, just in general.

"They're bandits," mentioned Aegis. "Bandits far away from any goblin camp, who have robbed multiple people, with nowhere to spend their gold."

"I say we pawn this ring if we find it."

Urso, who'd run ahead, suddenly appeared out of the brush, growling and snuffling. Jaheira figured out what he was saying first, and that was how Aegis belatedly learned she was now traveling with a druid: "At least it's nearly done: Our quarry lies ahead. Ready yourselves."

Nine of them.

Three at first. Then the last one fled after a masterful strike from Khalid nearly took its head off. It ran, shouting, into the arms of six other hobgoblins, who came from the north and east to help him. 

They stood roughly as tall as a man—taller than almost anyone in the party but Aegis and Xzar—and they wore clothing and fastened it at their waists with belts, they spoke a language and wielded swords, they stood upright and had two eyes, two ears, a nose, a mouth. They were people.

People, and Aegis had hewn through them with her axe, barreling into them from the side as Khalid held them at bay with his shield. Her weapon had gone cleaning through leather and brigandine better than any sword. Certainly better than Khalid's sword, which had snapped in half at an inopportune moment- but Jaheira had been there to cover him, and Montaron had gotten behind the enemy, and Imoen was able to take off any stragglers by bow. 

"What happened?" Imoen asked, in the aftermath, as Khalid had regarded his shattered longsword with rim resignation.

"It's the iron crisis," he explained, and stooped to pick up one of the bastard swords the hobgoblins had used, hefting it to feel its balance and grimacing at what most definitely wasn't a well-balanced tang. "It's made almost all iron, up and down the sword coast, brittle."

"Yikes."

Aegis surveyed bodies, vaguely aware Xzar was watching her, if only because he'd taken her invitation to linger at her side whenever enemies might be afoot. 

She'd killed humans before. Three of them, if Tarnesh, who'd faded from life under her grip, had counted. But somehow this felt different, perhaps because all three men had been killed in self defense, but this was a group Aegis had knowingly set out to destroy. Had it been necessary to kill them? Perhaps calling out to negotiate the return of the ring might have been better.

It was too late now. By the manner in which the goblins had enthusiastically joined the fight, they'd thought themselves the superior combatants; it might not have been possible to reason with them. 

Could she have beat them bloodlessly?

Maybe she was thinking too hard. 

The bodies at least had currency on them, in the form of gold, cut gems, and jewelry, and their gear could be pawned at the inn.

"What is she doing?" Jahiera growled irritably to her husband in elfish. "And why are we waiting for this?"

Aegis sighed over her water canteen. Jahiera was starting to gnaw on her nerves. Montaron was a bad apple and Xzar was extraordinarily insane, but at least neither of them came off as patronizing. Khalid, however, Aegis liked Khalid. She liked him immediately, and irrationally; he was adorable.

So she supposed she'd just have to put up with his wife. Maybe things really were terribly bad in the south, and warranted urgency. Maybe Jahiera would mellow out a bit when they were finally heading south to Bergost. Or...

..Aegis tilted her head to the side, finally wondering of Jahiera was irritated at following Aegis around, rather than having Aegis following her.

After a moment, in which Khalid tried to placate Jaheira and Jaheira remained implacable, Aegis looked back at the older couple. "I speak, read, and write Elf," she mentioned. "We're waiting on Imoen."

Jahiera simultaneously bristled and backed off. Khalid blushed heavily and reached out to touch his wife's shoulder. When he spoke it was softly, personally, and Aegis did not overhear: 

"Jahiera, my love... I-I know you grieve for our lost friend... But do not let it embitter you. T-They are but children. They are right to p-prepare for the journey.This is their first time out of Candelkeep. Be patient with them."

The druid said nothing.

"This is a waste of time," Montaron grumbled. "Two half elves and a halfling in the party and we ain't seen shit up in that tree. What's that little twat think-"

A delighted and mischievous cackle sounded from up the aforementioned tree. Aegis shook her canteen and was upset to find it half empty. "Find anything?" she asked while peering inside it. She'd have to use this as a marker for rationing water (and booze, for that was what she'd had in her canteen) for the upcoming trip.

"You bet! Catch me!"

Aegis jumped, startled. She dropped her canteen and lifted her arms just in time to catch a petite violet projectile as it burst out of the leafy canopy. Imoen gave a squeal of delight, hopped out of her arms just as soon as she'd been caught, and immediately set to examining a small object, perhaps a ring.

"One day," Aegis muttered, and then stooped to retrieve her—now likely empty—canteen. "you are going to get the shock of your life when I decide not to catch you."

"Oh don't be ridiculous!" Imoen laughed as Aegis pouted at the lost liquor. When rationing, did one usually have to plan for small bubbly pink monsters?

"So what exactly did we all wait for you to climb up in a tree for?" Jaheira requested, in her best semblance of a neutral tone.

Imoen held up a small ring victoriously. "I think it's a band of Wizardry!" she cooed. "We'll have to get it identified, it's magic for sure!"

Montaron perked up and came over quickly. "The hell it is, you couldn't'a seen a ring o' anythin' up there, much less known it was magic. Give it here!"

Imoen pursed her lips, but seeing as Monatron's traveling buddy was the only mage in the group and Imoen wasn't much for being offended, her irritated look transformed into an amused laugh, and she leaned over to place the ring squarely in Montaron's palm. "Oh don't be all bubbleheaded! See for yourself!"

Montaron glanced at her but turned the ring over in his fingers. His grimace of irritation turned into a look of surprised disbelief. Jahiera and Khalid had come closer. "Blimy. Well, I'll be. It's like the lil tart said."

Imoen stuck out her tongue. "Told ya!" she laughed. "And you doubted me!"

"How the devil did you see this?" Montaron exclaimed in surprise, looking first at Imoen, who shrugged laughingly, and then to Aegis.

Aegis shook her canteen and, without looking up, said, "Maybe she's part dragon." She looked inside. Definitely empty. "That would explain a lot, actually."

"It was a thing less'n an inch across high up in a tree!"

"I just get a tingle when something's waiting for me to find it!" Imoen laughed. "I lived all my life in Candlekeep, with magic goodies hidden everywhere. I had to learn to sniff em out!"

Montaron wasn't sure whether to be insulted or awestruck. After a moment he handed the ring back over to her– magic rings were a dangerous thing to meddle with without a proper identification. "Remind me t' borrow that nose o' yers then next time I'm visitin' with th' nobility."

Imoen laughed. "If it is a band of Wizardry, are we selling it, or giving to Xzar?"

The party turned about to look at their Necromancer, who was busy trying to coax a rabbit out of its burrow by murmuring soft reassurances that all he wanted was its lungs. Montaron gave a disturbed grimace.

"We can vote when the time comes," Jahiera suggested diplomatically. Aegis finally looked up from her canteen.

"Will it help him make headache potions?"

Chapter Text

Ogres were huge. Bigger than Aegis remembered.

Even if, before this moment, Aegis had only ever beheld two ogres, in her whole life, and both of them less than a week ago, flanking the man who- the man who-

who...

Her body locked up.

She stared blankly up at the looming monstrosity. It was yellow with jaundice and carrying a flail so bloody and rusted it creaked with every rustle. It's armor had been roughly stitched together from random pelts, skins, and torn pieces of smaller suits of armor. It bellowed something in a language she didn't understand, and then Khalid and Jahiera were rushing past her, Jahiera with her staff, Khalid with sword and shield.

Aegis stood frozen, watching as if in a dream.

It's heavy flail came down with a momentum unlike anything she'd ever seen. It displaced air. It whistled. It made a slight breeze.  Khalid lifted his shield to take the blow, but it nevertheless sent him flying back a half dozen feet, and Aegis felt the crash of metal on steel in her bones from yards away.

Jahiera swung her staff across the monster's midsection, but the ogre barely acknowledged her, and simply brought its weapon around to backhand her out of the way. The flail wrapped around Jaheira's shoulder as she fell back and away, and Aegis saw blood tear free in slow motion. Jahiera jerked so violently that it was a wonder her neck didn't snap. The blow sent thudding to the ground. Khalid shouted her name.

Montaron had picked a bad time to wind up behind the ogre. It smelled him, smelled his breath, smelled the food he had just eaten. It whirled about, ignoring Imoens ineffective arrows. It stiff-armed Monatron with its unoccupied forearm. Montaron was a lot lighter than Jahiera, and when he slammed straight into a nearby rock it was clear he'd been stunned. Aegis stood, staring, as the ogre followed him, lifting its weapon.

She was going to watch him die.

She tilted her head to the side.

A blade had run an old mage through; his blood had rippled through the air in slow motion. This was less personal. A strange part of her was fascinated. 

She heard the sounds of arcane magic, and then Xzar had slipped forward. He risked life and limb, for what purpose? To defend Monatron? How odd.

Xzar reached out and grabbed at the ogre, sending his one of those Chill Touch spells gleaming blue through the titanic frame. The ogre roared. Khalid leaped in to try and defend their caster. Imoen had given up using her bow; she must have been rummaging for her wand, but couldn't find it.

The flail came down on Khalid's sword this time, tearing through the metal and nearly taking off the elf's head. The ogre grabbed and threw him casually away. Jahiera was up on her knees and murmuring some incantation. Montaron was still down. Xzar reached out with another chill touch.

The ogre ignored the pain. He grabbed at their necromancer, seized his entire torso in one massive hand, and hoisted the fragile twig man off the ground. A vicious grin, a grin that reminded her of skeletal and spiked armor, spread across the ogre's face. He began to squeeze.

Aegis remembered Xzar's not-so-ridiculous-or-girlish screams.

The very next thing she remembered, she was standing over the butchered corpse of the ogre, drenched from head to toe in blood, breathing heavily, with her left shoulder dislocated and thick lacerations up and down her left side.

Her axe was squeezed tightly in one hand, and the remains of Khalid's sword were grasped in the other. Imoen was hanging on to her good arm, shaking her, trying to get her attention.

Splayed before Aegis was the Ogre: He had been badly hamstrung on one leg, was missing the foot of the other, and had been eviscerated and cleaved belly to collarbone by a furious rain of axe-blows. One arm was missing halfway up the forearm, the other was clearly dislocated.

"Aegis!" her sister was crying. "Aegis, it's dead!" Aegis stumbled slightly to the side, and Imoen clutched her even tighter. Imoen looked into her face, and realized Aegis was looking back at her. "Hey! Hey, can you hear me? Ae?"

Aegis blinked rapidly and looked dazedly around. Breathing came with difficulty. She visibly ought to have been in pain; but everything was numb and tingling.

Time had passed.

Montaron must have recovered some time over the past couple minutes and stuck near the action, because he was bloody and breathing hard and especially close by. Jahiera and Khalid were together; Khalid had no sword, so perhaps he had shielded her while she used druidic magic.

All of them were staring at her, the elves with wide eyes, the halfling warily as he backed up slowly to a respectful distance. Four. Four of them. Where- where was?

She turned her head in the other direction and finally found Xzar. He was seated on the ground, a curious expression on his face and a tilt to his head. He didn't seem unnerved. And although he was favoring his ribs like one might be broken, he was—under cursory estimation and given the circumstances—relatively unharmed.

Aegis slowly looked back to Imoen, who searched her face in alarm. "Everyone's okay?" Aegis asked. Imoen nodded. "I'm sorry," Aegis added, and then everything went black.

Aegis woke up to find a temporary camp had been made. She was laid out on a grassy patch, some distance from the ogre. Jahiera had just managed to rouse her. The older woman set aside an empty bottle, and then leaned forward and had a good look at her, studying her pupils and feeling over her forehead. "You need to eat these," the druid announced, picking up a bowl of what appeared to be berries, and tapping sternly on Aegis' chin. "Open up. Eat."

Aegis was in no position to argue, accepting the morsels as they were parceled to her.

"There is minor magic to them," she explained. "Good. All of them."

"How is she?" Imoen quavered from somewhere nearby.

"She's coming to," Jaheira answered.

A rustle of voices answered her, and to Aegis it seemed they were expressing a tone of relief. She tried to remember why that should reassure her. It took a moment. Then she recalled her party didn't much like itself, and that an ogre had nearly killed all of them, and she tried to sit up to take stock of everyone.

She only half succeeded. Every part of her body protested the motion. Her shoulder screamed in discomfort, her leg felt like it was on fire. Aegis cursed in surprise and fell backwards again. Jahiera caught her and eased her back onto the grass. "Lie still," the druid recommended. "You are still badly injured, and must give us a moment to repair you. We exhausted most of our resources fighting the ogre.

Aegis grunted, teeth clenched, and tried to focus on how blue the sky was. She'd been numb on collapsing. She'd been numb on waking. She was not numb now. Pain screamed and rolled and roiled and curled.

Imoen's face appeared in her field of view. "Aegis!" she cooed, sound respectful of the fact that Aegis might have a concussion. "Aegis, are you okay?"

The growled and opened her mouth to say something; Jaheira used her open mouth as an excuse to feed her the rest of the berries. They were bitter. Not half bad. Definitely a distraction from the fuck all awful burning in every joint and muscle.

"Everyone's okay," Imoen reassured her, hanging over her head. "We thought we'd lost you for a second when you blacked out! You weren't breathing. Xzar had one potion left and he and Jahiera had to force feed it to you. It's like you almost died! Don't do that to me again! What am I supposed to do if you die?" She waggled her arms in the air.

Khalid and Jaheira switched places. The pain got louder as their Druid presumably began to apply more bandages, or maybe check ones that were already in place. Khalid looked just as worried. Even Montaron came over after a bit to have a look at her. 

"H-how are you f-feeling?" Khalid asked her.

Aegis felt a muscle in her cheek twitching from how hard her teeth were grit. Felt like Jaheira might be splinting something. "W'rse than when I g't mauled by a bear," the ranger grit out hoarsely between clenched teeth. "What happ'ned?"

Khalid and presumably Jahiera shared a look (Aegis couldn't tell for sure because Jahiera was outside her field of view, but she wagered Khalid wasn't sharing that kind of look with Xzar). "W-we were hoping you could tell us."

Flashbacks to waking up after a bar fight. Gorion was there. That had been less than two weeks ago. Two week ago and he was dead, and this was so much worse.  "Dun remember," she admitted through grit teeth.

"You froze," Imoen crooned worriedly, brows furrowed together. "And then you went crazy."

"Crazy?"

"Like you were all, RAAAA, and then you JUMPED on it and you were hacking at it and wrestling, and it was grabbing at you, and Masks's Ass, the whole thing was terrifying! How did you not die?!"

Aegis tried looking around. She saw Jahiera again, and more of Montaron. But no wizard. She let her head sink back, and closed her eyes. "L'st time ah saw an ogre, G'rion died," she admitted, feebly. That might explain why she'd frozen. And maybe also gave her some idea why seeing the ogre throw Khalid, Jahiera, and Montaron around had produced no effect on her paralysis, but seeing it attack Xzar, a wizard, had driven her clear out of her mind. She took in a sharp breath that made her ribs ache, and then couldn't help but utter something between a wheeze and a sob.

My Papa is dead.

Khalid gave her uninjured shoulder a tight squeeze. Imoen gently touched her hair. Jaheira may or may not have altered the way she was bandaging things, and regardless it didn't hurt any less. Montaron attributed the sob more to physical pain than grief, and either way let it slide.

"Where's Urso?" Aegis, a ranger now, finally remembered to inquire.

"I think he bit out one of the ogre's eyes." Imoen made a funny face that Aeigis couldn't see. "He was definitely all over that fight, same as you."

"Unlike you," growled Jaheira, "He is fine, and sitting beside your feet, eating raisins. There. We need to get you back to the Inn."

"It's gettin' mighty late," their halfling growled. "Wolves roam about after dark. Without a fire, with her leg snapped, we'll be easy pickin's. Should be makin' camp, not travelin'."

"Ordinarily I'd find that prudent, but that flail had ben rolled, by the smell of it, in Gibberling feces. The wounds are infected, and I no longer have the magic to cleanse them. If we wait till morning she will be fevered and delusional, and our trip back will be even slower and more dangerous. Worse, depending on the severity of the infection, she could pass from us before reaching the Inn in such a state. There isn't time to spare."

Montaron spit on the ground. "Well tough. I ain't wolf bait."

Jahiera pursed her lips. "So you shall prefer to wait and play it safe this evening... and permit me to extract my pound of flesh from you later should she die?"

Montaron tensed. "Watch it, elf."

"Can I have her spleen if she dies?!" came an excited coo. Aegis sighed, and hopefully no on could tell it was from relief. There he was. Not in an ogre's belly, but somewhere north of her.

Khalid was not as relieved but was at least thoughtfully keeping an eye out for her spleen: "Absolutely Not!"

"Well, just as well," supposed Xzar manically, despite not at all backing down, "it would probably turn to gold anyway!"

Imoen was frantically looking between everyone, eyes widening, maybe worried that Team Elf and Team Mad might decide to have a showdown right there in the forest while her sister was in dire need of healing.

"I ain't responsible for her jest chargin' in like a drunken wildebeest!"

"Y-you may not h-have anyone's internal o-organs!"

"Lies! Nonsense! Why, I could have most of yours right now! Shall I show you, hmm?"

"She saved your life you ungrateful whoreson!"

Aegis took a deep, slow breath. Then, with every fiber of her body grit to bear the pain, she grasped hold of the earth with her good hand and pushed herself up into a seated position. The pain was everywhere and in everything, and she clung to memories of Gorion and deep-breathing exercises as a crutch. Khalid and Jahiera both jumped to steady her, but she didn't waver.

"Lie down," Jahiera commanded.

Aegis ignored her and instead took stock of her own condition. She saw that her right arm and leg were almost useless; the leg was splinted from knee to heel and the ankle was held motionless. She glanced up at Montaron and Xzar, who both looked uncertain, their expressions ugly but almost curious, as if wondering if she actually had it in her. 

Aegis swiveled her bad leg out to the side, reached out to Imoen, and wordlessly got her younger sister to pull her forward onto her good knee. She stood. Slowly, unsteadily, but she stood. And once she was standing, she was taller than everyone else in the group.

She looked from Jahiera, who looked simultaneously impressed and annoyed, to Khalid, who only looked terribly worried, and then to Xzar. The wizard was seated on a rock some distance away, favoring his side, head tilted curiously. Her eyes lingered on him a moment, evaluating his condition. Satisfied, she at last looked down to Montaron. "Let's go," she said, specifically to him, because this moment required her to show her strength, to be heavy handed, to take charge. Montaron flicked her up and down with a glance, snorted dismissively, but then nodded. "Just try to hobble along quickly, girly," he told her, "or I'll leave you to the doggies."

Aegis nodded without protest. She eased an arm around Imoen, and they headed off.

"Wolves," Aegis muttered through exhaustion. "Rabid?"

"No," Jaheira growled, staff at ready, watching and listening as the animals ran circles around them, howling and snarling and growling to one another. "Worgs have been brought to the area, most likely by roaming bands of Hobgoblins. They'd been interbreeding with the local wolf packs. Marauding bandits, ogres, monsters; they've eaten their usual food sources, and forced them to desperation."

"W-we were attacked by a pack coming down from Bauldur's G-gate," Khalid added, keeping his voice low and his shield raised. "They're c-certainly more vicious than at any point in m-my memory."

"At least these ones aren't dire wolves," Imoen counted their blessings. "Can you get them to-" she began, but then a wolf lunged at them from behind, pulled Aegis's good leg out from under her, and brought her down hard on her bad one. Imoen, her crutch, got yanked to the ground, but fortunately had a short sword drawn and started slashing frantically. The wolf tried to evade her; it yanked and violently shook its head, dragging Aegis along. But then Urso, Urso - the Raccoon, that Urso, suddenly leapt straight at the wolf's face! And he must have bitten something sensitive, too, because the wolf released and began flailing about, wailing and whining and snarling as it tried to dislodge its assailant.

Khalid had lost his second sword of the day fighting that ogre, and shields were not especially useful in deterring wolves. The only weapon he now had to defend them with was Aegis' hatchet and, armed with it, he rushed to defend their left flank. Jahiera backed herself up to stay flush against them, staff still pointed out the opposite direction, discouraging any other wolves from taking advantage of the situation. A wolf tried its luck anyway, feinting around Jaheira and rushing in on the right flank. Xzar lunged, armed with a knife and words of power; green energy leached off the aggressing wolf, and must have fatigued it just enough that he stabbed it, instead of it biting him.

Montaron, the asshole, was acting indifferent to the danger. He kept close enough to Xzar to knock attention away from him should the wizard become seriously threatened. Aside from that it was clear he would make no move to help anyone else. If they got dragged off into the night, he'd shed no tears. Wonder if it occurred to him he was the smallest guy present! Probably looked like the easiest meal to some of em!

Imoen scrambled to get Aegis back on her feet. Aegis was addled. Imoen whimpered pleading and encouraging things to her, getting her first up on her knees and then bracing her side as she tried and failed to lift her to her feet. "Up, come on, up straight, knees solid, please Ae, up, up, up, come on, Khalid's busy, you know how feet work. Just-"

Xzar suddenly stepped into them both, shoving Imoen rudely out of the way with a hand. "Don't be all bubbleheaded!" he squealed mockingly, and then knelt down to see their ranger. Hold up! Wait just a second! Imoen shouted at him, but Xzar hauled Aegis' arm over his shoulders and stood, successfully hauling her to her feet. She gave a groggy, disoriented, painful moan, but she stood. 

"Aegis is my sister, not-"

Xzar slapped at her, grating a painfully nasal, "Stoooooppp ittt, STOOOP ITTTTT!" 

"I should be helping-!"

"Magic's out!"  he spat, "Use your bow!" which is what he should have started with. Xzar didn't have any more spells loaded and ready to go? 

It was hard for Imoen to admit he might be right. Imoen had a ranged weapon. Imoen had a wand. Even if Xzar was lying about his magic being 'out,' he could cast one-handed, and he was taller and maybe stronger and definitely a better candidate for a crutch. Imoen swallowed hard down against a bitter but maybe misguided determination to personally protect her sister, and then nodded.

Her wand of Magic Missile had gone missing for the fight with the ogre; on surveying the camp, it turned out that Montaron had stolen it from her the previous morning. Well Imoen had successfully repatriated it, not by calling the halfling out, but by stealing it back, and she had it now that was what mattered.

She pulled it out of her bag and thrust it out to Xzar.

His eyes glittered. He held Aegis upright with one arm, grabbed the wand, and nodded curtly, before gesturing for her to take up a more sensible position with her bow. "Wakey wakey," she heard him cooing to her nearly delirious sister. Aegis eventually dropped her head on his shoulder. 

The wolves harried them for over two miles. Aegis' situation worsened. Khalid ended up throwing his shield back over his back and drawing her other bad across his shoulders. Imoen got bit and dragged down before managing a trick shot down the length of her body and shooting a wolf right off her own self.

Finally, shaking as if from maternal rage or adrenaline-fueled desperation or both, Jaheira motioned them all to halt and stepped out into the middle of the road with her staff. Brown or brassy energy seemed to shimmer around her, converging in on her location. She stamped her staff on the ground, and it made a loud, thunder-like bang and blew wind out in all directions, and she shouted, "ENOUGH!" at the top of her lungs, like some kind of unholy witch goddess silhouetted in moonlight with dark trees clawing all around. 

Imoen thought she was a wee bit terrifying in the moment. The wolves, apparently, agreed. They fled, whimpering and howling to one-another as they disappeared into the trees.

The party made it in the front gate of the inn a little over an hour later.

Aegis was only conscious by the most generous of definitions, and Khalid and Xzar were carrying her more than they were helping her walk. No simple feat for either man, not when both had been thrown around by an ogre earlier in the day and at least one of them had a busted rib. The party reached the temple in shambles, not a single member unscathed. They stumbled as one unit into the temple.

It was somewhere past four in the morning, encroaching on five. Birds had not started to chirp, but the faintest hint of blue light was growing on the horizon.

Aegis was nursing a cup of coffee; a temple acolyte had brought it for her when they saw she was up and "brooding."

She sat on the ground at a small table designed for gnomes, watching over her sleeping party members—raccoon included—where it was sprawled all over the room. The stiffness was easing out of her limbs as she slowly extended and retracted her previously injured leg. She'd be good to go by the time everyone else was up. Well, that wasn't true. She'd be good to go after getting reprovisioning. That was going to take a day, annoying Jaheira and Montaron further. Neither of which would do any wonders for Aegis' fomenting headache.

She sipped her drink, thoughts bending and weaving. She wondered how much they'd made for killing the ogre, and how much the healing services had cost, and if they'd put themselves forward or set themselves back again. After a bit she wondered if she had made a bad call going after the hobgoblins and ogre all in one day. Though perhaps the ogre might not have been able to take them all on if she hadn't frozen. On the other hand, maybe it would have killed all of them if she hadn't flipped out. 

She supposed she could neither blame nor commend herself for a job well or poorly done. Her only consolations were that Khalid had already unknowingly been carrying two bum swords that were in need of replacement, and that Montaron had been standing closest to her when the ogre was dead. The halfling's location suggested that he'd contributed the most in helping her bring it down. If that was the case, he could and would continue working with her, even in bad situations. He was definitely the hardest sell of the group.

My father is dead.

Aegis reached under her shirt and clutched at a lock of silver gray hair. She wanted her father's steadiness and wit. She wanted to hug him. She wanted the death of this ogre to somehow retroactively undo the battle in which he had died. She closed her eyes and took many deep breaths, trying not to sob, not to wake anyone. The act of suppressing herself made her head hurt worse. She sat down her coffee and pinched the bridge of her nose.

Blankets rustled. Aegis looked up to see Xzar was awake. He yawned and rubbed his face, and reached out blindly for his spellbook. It wasn't where he expected to be, so he looked around with sleepy eyes. He caught sight of her and paused, staring at her with suddenly veiled eyes, as if he knew something secret and scandalous, something he assumed she was in on. He seemed a different person, with presumably different characteristics and motivations entirely.

"Xzar?"

The smile that spread over his lips was saccharine and cruel. "Goood mooornniing, mistreeess," he drawled. His voice was languid, smooth, and deeper than usual. It seemed very wrong, particularly in the hush of the temple. "Have fuuuun with the ogre yesterdaaaay?"

"No," she said, because she had not. "Were you alright?"

The smile dripped off his face, replaced with something of a frown, but his eyes opened wider, as if suddenly he were more curious than outright malicious. Aegis wasn't sure how to interpret his lack of reply.

"I thought you looked like you'd busted a rib," she tried to clarify her question, but he wrinkled his nose as if she'd only made the inquiry more perplexing. 

When clearly no answer would be forthcoming, Aegis settled her elbows on her table and rubbed at her temples.

"Thanks for helping," she said.

Headaches. They were shoring up to be the bane of her existence. Hangovers, people arguing, nearly dying; turned out a lot of things could cause them. She heard the blankets shuffle, and then something glass was settled onto the table top in front of her.

Aegis opened her eyes. Xzar pushed a vial into her field of view. It took her a moment to realize she was looking at a headache potion. She looked over it at him, at where he settled down on the ground on the other side of her table, pale green eyes watching her almost innocently.

She picked up the vial, and downed it. Relief was instantaneous and heavenly. She could only hope it hadn't involved any livers.

Chapter Text

Aegis was nearly asleep on her feet.

She hadn't slept properly since the incident with the ogre, and knew it was something like guilt or fear that kept her awake at nights. She'd lay in her bedroll, listening to the breathing of her companions around her. The closest person was usually Imoen, who had a tendency to snuggle up against Aegis's back during the night and, occasionally, steal all of her blankets. Jaheira would usually bunk down on Aegis's other side, a gesture that was probably more maternal than either Aegis or Jaheira would have cared to admit.

Speaking of Jaheira, Aegis and her were not getting along.

At all.

They had argued at least six times since the battle with the ogre, not counting the brow-beating Jaheria had delivered upon waking up that first-morning. Aegis wasn't sure how she could have possibly foreseen herself freezing or going berserk, and simply had to hope the latter didn't happen again. Khalid seemed to empathized with Aegis, and appeared slightly frazzled or exasperated by his wife. 

Aegis was sure the next argument would be about her poor sleep. Like a lecture would help her sleep better. Like she was somehow voluntarily sleeping poorly. Ugh.

... But true as it might have been that the two of them were not getting along, Aegis wouldn't have dreamed of asking the older woman to leave. In a weird way, she was family. She'd been Gorion's friend, and, anyway, Aegis really liked Khalid. She doubted Jaheira wanted to part ways with her either. They were stuck with each other.

Hopefully they'd eventually work out how to stop fighting.

Walking ahead of Aegis, Montaron said something that provoked Jahieira's ire. She heard the other woman reply back with something severe and condescending, but the exact wording was lost on Aegis. She was really tired.

"Not resting well in the evenings?" came a voice like bubbling honey near her ear. Aegis sighed and rubbed her face, glancing to where he'd flit up beside her.

"Keen observation," she answered dryly.

"Any idea whhhyyy?" he purred.

She gave a noncommittal noise in reply, and then noticed lights peeking through the dark trees ahead. "Is that Beregost? What time is it?"

"Presumably. About an hour after dusk," he theorized, still watching her curiously, and his voice was both calm and fairly stable for the time being.

"Perfect time for a drink," she decided; maybe a mean brew would leave her sleepy enough to get some shuteye.

A courteous young man running errands just outside the city was kind enough to offer them directions. Imoen asked him for the locations of a few different shops—most importantly the blacksmith—before requesting directions to the inn. The young man blinked curiously at them in the twilight and then asked innocently, "Which one?"

Aegis, who was playfully entertaining the thought that Xzar might be trying to figure out which organs he'd harvest first if she suddenly dropped dead from exhaustion on the spot, perked up. "There's more than one!?" she exclaimed, the first loud noise she'd made in over a day. Jaheira sighed, and Montaron cracked out laughing.

"Still alive back there?" their halfling crowed. "Aye there's more'n one! There's four!"

"Four... inns..." Aegis gasped, thinking she had never heard such a wonderful proclamation before in her life. "I want all of them."

"Which is nearest?" asked Imoen with a yawn of her own. "I think we all need to get a bit of sleep."

"Well, there's the Red Sheaf and the Jovial Juggler," the young man informed them. "The Sheaf is probably the best quiet place, and the Juggler's has the best pub in-"

"The Juggler!" shouted Aegis, all tiredness forgotten.

"The Sheaf," growled Jaheira with a disapproving look backwards. Aegis shrank back from that look.

"But- but-!"

"There are plenty of other evenings to drink on," the druid said, looking Aegis up and down to highlight that the Ranger was in no condition for partying.

Aegis rather thought this was the perfect condition for partying, but slumped her shoulders in defeat because she was in no condition to marshal a coherent argument. "The Sheaf," she pouted unhappily. "But I want a bottle of wine."

Montaron winked at her. He had a hand behind his back and opened up his fingers to show he'd just nicked drinking money from the half-elf's purse. Although Aegis was usually against foolish demonstrations of thievery that would absolutely come back to bite a person in the ass, Aegis couldn't help the devilish grin he inspired. Suited Jaheira right, this did, suited her right.

The Red Sheaf was just getting warmed up for the night when a party of six (and one racoon hidden in a backpack) funneled through its doorway. It was indeed a quiet place, and small, where merchants gathered to do their business.

Imoen bounded ahead of Jaheira to rent their rooms herself; she had no intention of paying full price if there was any chance she could haggle the keeper down. Jahiera and Montaron followed.

Aegis, still exhausted, lingered behind the rest of her party. She surveyed the inn common room, depressed by the lifeless atmosphere. At least the fireplace was warm. She took a few steps inward to shirk the evening chill. Urso shifted about in her pack, busying himself with a small bag of peanuts. Jaheira had convinced them inns weren't always accommodating to wild animals, and Imoen didn't want anyone charging Aegis extra.

There was dwarven man was drinking near the fire. He caught sight of her as she leaned up against the mantle to rest. He took a long, patient draught of his ale and then stood up and approached her, wiping his beard off with his forearm. Aegis noticed him only because of how direct he was being, and watched in disbelief as he yanked a double-headed battle axe off the ground and raised it high.

What- The-?

Tarnesh.

Aegis tore her hatchet free from her belt; but it was tiny when compared against a dwarfish war axe.  She leapt back from the first overhead swing. Unfortunately, quarters were tight, and the dwarf kept coming with no loss of momentum. She tried deflecting his second attack, and the heft behind his strike sent her hatchet out wide, had her sliding backwards, and sent jolts of pain through all her arm bones.

Problem. Problem! She hadn't even been hit yet, and she was stinging! That thing was going to split her in half!

People in the inn were standing up and shouting in surprise. Some of her friends had no doubt turned towards her and were trying to get their bearings, but the dwarf kept rounding on her, passing chairs and tables, and was coming in for a third swing.

No one had been paying enough attention to help her, no one but their wizard, who darted through the crowd ahead of her and reached out with a blue-limed hand to grabbed the dwarf's shoulder. A burst of Chill rushed over and through the dwarf's armor, throwing off his next swing and making it possible for Aegis to block. 

The dwarf pivoted on the ball of one foot and the heel of the other, bringing around his axe with all that tremendous momentum, aiming to cleave the necromancer at the waist, like snapping a troublesome sapling.

Xzar had clearly anticipated that reaction because he leaped backwards out of the line of attack... But then paused, because the dwarf did not pursue.

The tavern went silent.

The dwarf held very still, mouth gaping open in reptilian surprise, blood oozing down his face. Standing directly behind him, shoulders shaking violently with each breath, eyes seething with feral rage, Aegis had closed the distance to the dwarf's unguarded backside in a heartbeat. Her hatchet had sunk into his metal helmet so deep and with such force that the once-sturdy handle had cracked.

Aegis's axe had existed long before the iron crisis; but the dwarf assassin's helmet had not. The diseased steel had fragmented under her blow, and the wedge of her hand axe had sunk six inches into his cranium.

The dwarf was dead long, long before his body hit the ground. He came free from the hatchet with an ugly noise of suction and crackling bone. Aegis stood over him, every muscle in her body tense and clenching, almost spasming.

When it finally registered that he was dead, she cast her gaze around the room, daring any other man to try and kill her. Her breath came in sharp, ragged snarls between her teeth. When no one else stood to challenge her, she gave a frustrated, enraged scream of dominance, the sort of sound a primal man might have made, armed only with an especially pointy rock and standing victorious over the corpse of that very first jaguar.

She threw her damaged axe furiously down into the floorboards, where it splattered and stuck. Then she turned and stalked through the inn doors and out into the night.

"Ae-Aegis!" Imoen called then went to hurry out after her sister. Jaheira grabbed her arm.

"She needs to cool off," Jaheira noted.

"Someone just attacked her!" Imoen cried out. "She's got no weapons! Ohgma's ass, she crushed his brain!"

"Split it, rather," mused Xzar, "into two lovely hemispheres."

That seemed to jerk everyone into motion again. The innkeeper tried to calm down the upset patrons. Someone went to find a guard. Montaron slipped around the perimeter of the inn, looking for anyone associated with the dwarf and, finding none, eventually stooping to check his effects

Jaheira held on to Imoen."It is certain that stalking off into the night with such men afoot is dangerous," the druid agreed in a low tone that pierced the surrounding commotion. "Therefore, perhaps it is best if you went out and kept a stealthy eye on her, rather than confronting her directly."

Imoen hesitated only briefly before nodding.

"D-dear? I-I don't meant to alarm you," Khalid called from the door, "b-but it doesn't look as though she  didn't, ah, have the presence of mind to stay nearby!"

Jaheira cursed herself and Aegis both. "We'll split up. This city is strange to her, and she could have wandered anywhere."

Montaron gave the elf an absurd look "Are you daft? O'course she'll go to a pub! Probably not the Juggler, s'too close..." He rubbed his chin, then wondered why he cared if the nitwit walked off and got herself killed. He had half a mind just to grab a wheel of cheese and a mug of ale and call it a night, but the thought occurred to him that he still had the half-elf bint's stolen cash and he'd prefer spending it in an inn where she wasn't watching.

"But s-she doesn't know the c-city," Khalid argued.

Montaron rolled his eyes and waved down Imoen. "C'mon girly, I been through this place before a few years back. We'll check the Burnin' Wizard first."

But Jaheira, unexpectedly, took issue with that plan: "As if you weren't precisely the sort of man I'd worry might find her in the state she's in," she growled. Montaron shot her a stink-eye, fingered his short sword, but then paused as he cast a look about and found a curious lack of backup.

"The hell that fool wizard get ta?"

Aegis was already on her second mug when Xzar slipped into the booth beside her. In the days since meeting him, she'd learn he could move rather quietly when he wanted to, quietly and quickly, so she didn't notice him till the physical sensation of a nearby person, all the small sounds and smells and micro-motions, made her open her eyes. The green color of his robes caught her eye. She lifted up her mug to take another draught, enjoyed the frothy cream and golden taste, and. Then she looked askance at him, and found him watched her innocuously enough.

When she needed to come up for air she plunked the mug with a heavy thud and flagged down a serving girl to bring her another tankard and the wizard a cup of wine. She was just about to polish off her ale when he finally said something:

"You're very strange," he told her.

Aegis planted her elbow on the table, half turned in her seat, and gave him a long look up and down. "Said the pot to the kettle," she told him.

Xzar lifted his brows. "Cooking vessels talk to you?" he asked doubtfully. Aegis sighed.

"I think you may grossly overestimate your abilities to have a level conversation with me about my strangeness," she observed. "So I'm not going to answer that."

He coiled slightly backwards, as if insulted, and then hunkered over a little and sneered at her.

The next round of drinks arrived, and Aegis thanked the server and pulled over her mug.

Xzar ignored his wine, glanced to make sure no one was paying them any attention, and leaned closer to purr almost contemptuously. "You certainly have a lot of men with pointy weapons and mean spells following you around, m'dear. I wonder why...? What makes you so special to that horned man you met in the woods?"

"That's the frustrating part," she admitted into her ale. "How the hell could anyone want me dead? I'm too young to have even done anything worth killing a person over."

"Hell has nothing to do with it, thought perhaps simple terms are apt enough for nature children grasp the severity of the situation," the necromancer growled. "There's something dark in you, Candlekeep girl. Something dark which delights in blood. You've relished two kills now, with an unmistakable, mn, flavor."

Her hands clenched and wrung at her mug. "I'm not sure 'having uncontrollable bouts of anger' is synonymous with either 'delight' or 'relish.'"

Xzar only prodded harder. "Did it excite you, Aegis?" Perhaps he wanted to see what would happen, and whether she would lash out. And at whom? Him, the party, the town? How badly could she fall? How delicately was she perched upon the precipice?

My father is dead. "Did what excite me? Defending myself?" she muttered. 

"No. Watching him die."

"The dwarf? The ogre?"

"Your foster parent." Aegis did a double-take, not believing what she was hearing. "Did the blood excite you? Did the death quicken your pulse, did you stare in fascination the way you stared at that ogre? How queerly satisfying was the sudden, abrupt end to lie? The final clench of the heart and lungs, before the final long, cold, still came to-"

Aegis grabbed the wizard by the collar, and hoisted him straight off his ass and directly in front of her face.  "Xzar," she warned.

Heedless of any danger, Xzar cooed almost seductively, "When you think about our demise, do you get thrills?"

My father is dead. Aegis's hands balled tightly in the fabric of his robe. 

"Is that why you can't sleep...?" he continued to purr, as if the high of murdering another creature were on a level of excitement befitting sexual arousal.

"I can't sleep," she snarled in his face, "because every time I close my eyes, I hear you screaming, and I wake up in cold sweats, scared that you and Imoen and everyone else is dead because I failed you, I wasn't there, I ran, I froze."

The viperous look on his face fled, instantly, a candle blown out by a gust of wind. A wide-eyed expression replaced it, and he stared into her face with curiousity.

"The last time I saw an ogre, I lost one wizard. And now you somehow think I'm excited to lose another? That was the worst day of my life. I'm exhausted, I'm confused, I'm frustrated, I'm grieving. All I want is for everyone to be safe. The question of what I 'feel' when killing something is so far down my list of concerns right now that I haven't even thought about it. If I had to put a word to it, I'd pick 'apathetic.'"

His lips parted as if he'd just gasped, and he stared at her with wider and wider eyes. After a moment's glaring she realized she still had him pulled over by the hem of his robe... so she let go, and let him plop back into his seat. She leaned her head back against the wood partition dividing their booth from all the others, and then, after a moment, hunkered down over her beer, and draped a hand over her eyes. Don't cry. Don't cry.

Xzar frowned to himself, looking her up and down uncertainly. "You're very strange," he told her, and sounded unhappy about it.

Aegis opened her eyes and looked at him from between her splayed fingers. "Said the pot to the kettle," she said quietly, calmer now, and then fished up her mug to enjoy it. "If I had my druthers, I'd be home with my father and my cats, curled up with a book. But that's not the timeline I'm living in."

He stared at her for a little longer, and then, eventually, slipped out of the booth and left. 

Whatever might be said of Aegis' constitution, there were only so many beers a woman could drink before needing a piss. When she got back, she was surprised to see that Xzar had returned to the booth and was waiting for her. Not only that, but he wasn't the only one there. Imoen and Montaron had taken up the other two seats, and between them they had a platter of food large enough for all of them. Pausing at the end of the table, Aegis looked from party member to party member in surprise.

Imoen smiled and waved. "Hey sis! Don't mind if we crash the party, do ya?"

Aegis looked at Montaron. "Elf bint is payin'," he chortled. "Don't worry 'bout the Sheaf either. She n' the Innkeeper got everythin' straightened out."

Lastly Aegis looked to Xzar, who surely must have led the other two to her. He was wearing a sheepish expression, and now she wasn't certain whether sheepishness was uncharacteristic or whether his earlier questions had been. Perhaps there were two Xzars in one body and she simply needed to get used to it: One absurd, one dark. Well, that was probably the least of her problems. And after looking at them for a moment, a grin worked its way onto her face; she was touched the three of them had come looking for her. "Alright, alright, make room," she joked, "lest you want me to crush you all with my giant rump." Imoen and Montaron fidgeted slightly on realizing they'd already taken up a full size of the booth, but their wizard scooted quickly towards the interior to make space, and Aegis settled in beside him.

"Ya can have my seat," Montaron offered, making a face at the wizard as he did so. That was surprisingly generous of him. Aegis shot Imoen a look to see if the girl had paid Monatron off under the table, but the violet girl gave a big shrug, a show of upturned hands, and a bemused expression. Aegis again looked to Xzar, who appeared to now be busying himself dissecting his food on his plate and making quite a mess about it. Why was that endearing? It was endearing. Aegis was endeared.

"Nah," she decided, "I don't think he's contagious."

Montaron's eyes bugged out and then he guffawed and slapped a thigh and stuffed more food into his mouth. "Aye, he sure ain't, or I'd be mad as a hatter ages ago," he said through crumbles of cheese.

"Well, you most certainly are," Xzar told him crossly. "You may wish to get that checked out."

"Has he successfully eaten anything?" Aegis wondered aloud, now thoroughly invested in assessing whatever was making Xzar play with his food. 

"I don't think so," Imoen decided, tapping her chin, "although he's drinking the wine."

"He doesn't eat enough," Aegis was sure, stabbing up some of the food onto her fork and then looking between it and the necromancer. "The last two days he's buried food in the dirt at camp and then complained it's dirty. Sometimes, if he's distracted talking, he'll eat. Or at least give half of it back to me."

Montaron scowled. "Waste," he growled, "so give him less and give more to me! Hoi, wait, you mean you been eatin' stuff after he's touched it? Braver than me, girl."

"This here's a high-maintenance rear end," Aegis told him sagely, patting her thigh as she said so, "needs a lot of  meat." The halfling laughed.

Aegis pulled a mug to herself, and paced it this time with her dinner. Imoen and Montaron sized up the bar patrons, possibly looking for a mark to rob. Xzar continued to assault the food on his plate.

Aegis finally nudged the wizard. "Hey. Are you going to eat that or just play with it?"

The necromancer ignored her, furiously stabbing apart a tiny mushy brown bit of whatever it was he'd obliterated.

"Xzar? Hey. Xzar." The necromancer nearly jumped out of his skin and then blinked over at her again. She took the opportunity to push a loaded fork into his mouth. He squeaked and sputtered and jerked backwards with a disgusted look on his face. "Do not spit that out." He looked up at her with round eyes. She watched him crossly. A moment passed in which the other two members of the table stole curious glances back at them. Then the necromancer begrudgingly chewed and swallowed the food. He made a sour face.

"Where did that come from?" he asked, horrified. 

"The same place as that," Aegis said with a meaningful glance at his plate.

Xzar looked at his plate as well, and did not seem impressed.

Aegis rolled her eyes. "I tried," she told the gods, and then kicked back the rest of her ale. She was tired. She was full of warm spirits and food. She was going to enjoy as much alcohol as she could before she started stumbling over her own feet... and then maybe do something reckless.

"Like what?" Imoen gushed when Aegis told her the plan.

Aegis scanned the bar. Her sights settled on one of the minstrels. "I'm going to ask the bard for a dance."

Imoen busted out laughing! "Better hurry, Jaheira won't be pleased!"

"Sod the troll-elf," Montaron scoffed.

Aegis, who was already halfway through a new drink, gave a mocking salute.

"Are you really going to do it?!" Imoen whispered loudly over the table.

Aegis gave a determined nod.

Beer beer beer, tiddly, beer beer beer...

Chapter Text

Tutors kept strict schedules, and wardens kept stricter ones. Candlekeep had never been a place for sleeping in, regardless of what late-night antics might have kept her up the evening before. Each morning, she would need to rise, come hell or high water. She didn't want to let her father down.

Today, well... Today, Candlekeep was long gone. A long road was behind them. Today could have been an exception, because Aegis had only just finally managed to sleep at all, and she absolutely deserved a day of rest and relaxation. But her internal rooster had already crowed, conditioned for dawn, and she woke up to see the first rays of blue cracking through the Burning Wizard's windows.

The morning stank of sweat and alcohol; she had clearly gone to bed drunk. Her head was pounding and her eyes were heavy and dry. It was far too early to be up, given what had happening the evening before and all the shit she'd recently been through.

But Aegis did not feel bad about her situation. In fact, she felt quite satisfied and content. Serene. She did wish her headache would abate. Headaches. She was learning to abhor them. They weren't an effective deterrent, and certainly not bad enough she couldn't rise from bed if she needed to, but they didn't exactly leave her ready to-

-ready to...

She...

She was missing her shift and other garments she did not typically eschew before bedtime.

And she was not alone.

Entangled in the blankets beneath her body, Aegis felt the steady rise and fall of another person's breathing. There was warm skin bare against her breasts and waist; a heat against the cup of her left hip. She felt hair between her fingertips.

Groggy but already awake, Aegis fumbled to prop herself up on her elbows, dislodging and upsetting an arrangement of pillows. Whoever she was with had been a little smaller than her, and she'd collapsed on top of them the night before. Her head churned and she coughed up some surprised laughter.

Wow. What exactly had Aegis done last night? Had she just lost her virginity? She didn't feel any pain, but then she wasn't a particularly delicate woman. Oh, was this a laugh; to have sex the first time while too drunk to remember! Or perhaps they'd both been too inebriated to succeed at much anything, and had simply given up and gone to bed? Imoen would never let her live it down either way.

The bard had been shorter than her, Aegis remembered, but then many men were. Had she slept with a man, even? Er, probably. Aegis had never previously known herself to flirt with any women.

She shifted blankets and oriented herself property to peer down at the face of the man she'd nearly smothered the night before. He'd dragged a pillow partially over his own head to blot out the sun no doubt, and she took a moment to balance herself on one elbow before lifting that pillow out of the way-

Aegis took a sharp involuntary gulp of air between her teeth. Then she looked down at her provisional lover in awe, some alarm, and quite a bit of surprise. Graham hair. Black ink. Green silk. 

Aegis stared down at the indisputable evidence that she had just slept with the party necromancer. After a moment of consulting that very same evidence, the very first coherent thought to entered her mind was: Why on Faerun had Xzar voluntarily slept with her?

Raking her memories, she was certain the man loathed physical contact. He hadn't exhausted any meaningful number of spells the day before, so it didn't seem likely Aegis had forced attention on him. Not only would the gratingly high-pitched shrieking likely have put her off the idea, but Xzar could have and would have fought her off. Even if Aegis had won such a fight, she'd be sporting injuries from an assortment of touch spells.\

An awareness of her limbs, their position, and her overall orientation settled in on her, and she took stock of the leg she had flung possessively over his own, and the way her arms had been coiled protectively around his head on waking.

But alas, no amount of 'memory raking' could conjure up images of whatever had happened the night before. Aegis had clearly been inebriated to the point she hadn't been able to form new memories, which was new as far as drinking went for her. What had happened? What had she done? What had Xzar done?

His... face had an almost innocent look about it. In slumber, it wasn't distorted by wild and inappropriate expressions. His tattoos could coil almost pleasantly over his facial features. Aegis hovered there. She probably looked baffled: Mouth agape, eyes squinted, brows scrunched up in disbelief. She watched the rise and fall of his boney chest as he breathed, and slowly became amazed by just how many ribs she could count. 

His borderline anorexia distracted her thoughts; he'd look so thin and fragile next to even Imoen or Jaheira. That lack of fat worked against him: She'd been up on her elbows no longer than sixty seconds before an unhappily pout graced his lips, and his fingers tugged gently at the edge of a blanket.

Her headache was starting to get worse. She needed to get up and find a wash basin to heave over. She needed to pee. She needed to lie back down for a bit. She needed a- ...a.. a headache cure.

"Xzar," she rasped thickly, her voice still dry from lack of use and too much alcohol. "Xzar..." she gently shook his shoulder. His face contorted and then green eyes flickered open sleepily. Thoughtless in the first moments of waking, the necromancer's face was childish and even cute. "Xzar, I have a headache," she mumbled tiredly. Green eyes flicked to her. Aegis broke off any further entreaty, watching as his mind assessed his vulnerable location, her threatening presence, and exactly how close the two of them were to each other. His eyes opened wide and he took in a deep breath.

Oh no. During a hangover.

The necromancer's high-pitched shriek must have woken up six people, and Aegis thought she heard a heavy thud from the room nearby. Maybe Montaron had just fallen out of his bed. He'd deserve it for losing track of his accomplice. She screwed her eyes shut tight with pain, and a low moan of displeasure worked itself up through her throat. She didn't cover his mouth, though. He'd probably bite her.

"Stop touching- stop -stop- STOP TOUCHING ME! Get off! Get OFF!" the necromancer howled, debating himself chaotically, each syllable ringing in at a completely different pitch, up and down, and all at a terribly enormous volume.

Aegis could try smothering him with a pillow, suggested a voice from deep within her brain, and she pretended to seriously consider it. Instead, she surrendered to the inevitable and did the only thing she had the energy to do: She collapsed back down against the necromancer and moaned helplessly into the blankets.

Of course, that led to even more touching. Xzar did not appreciate. He shrieked, and when that availed him nothing, he pinched and clawed at her with the nails of one hand. The other hand was apparently trapped beneath her her somewhere. Aegis didn't budge. She didn't want to let him up. If she had a scrap of dignity left to save she could not let him go streaking naked from her room. "Xzar," she finally tried, and her voice sounded like the croak of a frog, "I'm not hurting-" 

He wailed suddenly, as if she were seriously hurting him, and then went very, very still. Aegis looked at him, brain still foggy, head pounding. He was staring at her with round eyes, his breath fluttering in his chest, a look of panicked terror on his face. Confused, she tried to move. She wanted a better look at him, and with the way they were oriented he was practically buried under her shoulder.

"Don't!" he gasped. Aegis paused and blinked at him in confusion. He swallowed and then forced out a tiny little squeak of a, "don't!"

Aegis admitted that it had never occurred to her that maybe Xzar had a legitimate reason for not wanting to be touched. Most people had reasons for how they acted, after all. Logically, even insane necromancers had a story behind each and every quirk; from their spiraling tattoos to their ridiculous preoccupations with other people's organs.

"Xzar..." she answered quietly, at a loss for what to do. "It's okay. We're both okay. I'm not hurting you."

The necromancer swallowed heavily, staring up at her face as she carefully readjusted her weight and eased her pelvis away from his. He smelled faintly of musk and wine. He smelled better than she did, but Aegis wondered if perhaps liquor had been the culprit on both their ends.

"See?" she mumbled past the drumbeat in her skull. "See, I'm not hurting you. I'm going to cover you up with a blanket, okay?."

The necromancer made a choked whimper in the back of his throat, still breathing fast as a little bird. Aegis hesitated over the lack of reply, but then carefully reached down and shook at one of the blankets. She pulled it over the wizard's far-too-skinny body, ensured he was completely covered, and tugged the edge up to his collarbone. He shuddered, hesitantly patting at the cloth and then hugging it tightly to his chest.

The air was quiet between them but for his quieting pants for a few second. Then he decided the gap between them wasn't big enough and wiggled further away from her, into the pillows and the headboard. Aegis winced as he hit his head, because her own ached in sympathetic protest. She crawled off of him entirely, and sat herself down and to the side so there was some space between them both. He swallowed hard a few times, staring at her.

"Why are you naked?" he demanded suddenly, but his voice thankfully was back in a normal human speaking range. "Why are you naked? I don't like it!"

"I don't remember. I was hoping you would," she confessed, rubbing miserably at her temple.

He fidgeted. "Were you trying to eat my soul?" he asked.

She imagined her expression was dumbfounded. "No."

"Liar," he mumbled petulantly, "my hips are sore. The shoe that doesn't fly at midnight is the rotten one!"

For a moment she was prepared to dismiss that all as slightly amusing nonsense, or to fixate on the part where she was pretty sure women were supposed to be sore, not men. Then she realized a fair number of fiends were known to consume souls after intimacy, and that Xzar or one of his associates might not actually have been above dealing with one.

What had happened to this man, this person? Who and what was he, really? She'd woken up in bed with someone who was terribly insane, and whom she knew nothing at all about- except that she occasionally found his insanity endearing.

Aegis leaned towards him again. Xzar tensed up and looked as if he might scream again or else outright wet himself, so frightened did he seem. His eyes darted around frantically for his spellbook and, not finding it, he fixed her with an expression of terror. Aegis inched further towards him. She came up over him again, bewildered by how he sunk miserably into the bed sheets. He looked like he wanted to melt. She shook her head, leaned over, and—despite his cringing and his breathy, "don't!"—she kissed the top of his head.

The necromancer swallowed hard, grasping uncertainly at her arms. The mild affection seemed almost tolerable, however. She heard him gulping in air as if he were trying to calm himself.

"Xzar," she murmured tiredly, "I'm pretty sure your hips are only sore because you had slightly rough, sloppy, poorly coordinated, drunk sex. Not because a succubus or other nefarious individual was trying to siphon out your soul."

A heartbeat-length pause. Xzar squirmed lightly, tilting his head back to look perplexed at her face. "I had sex?" he exclaimed wondrously. "With what?"

She stared at him blankly for a moment, without any change in expression. Then she asked, "Can you cast an anti-headache spell, or does that only come in potion form?"

Green eyes flicked nervously over her features for a long moment as his breathing settled down a little and he swallowed a few times. Maybe he noticed she was wincing every few seconds, and a soft curiousity eased out to mask his distress. His fingers clenched against the skin of her arms a few times before easing upward in uncertain fits and starts and at last coming to rest at her face and temple. He licked his lips and his eyelashes fluttered. He murmured the words of her new favorite cantrip, and then a soothing relief blossomed out from where his fingers were touching her head, casting a veil of chill water over the plains of her mind.

Aegis groaned, so relieved that the muscles in her limbs almost buckled. Dawn could weight. Breakfast could wait. Jaheira and the rest of the world outside her door could wait. Coherent conversations about whatever had happened here could wait. After all this ruckus, Aegis deserved at least another hour of sleep. But she was still present enough in mind to know that collapsing back on top of the necromancer could induce another shrieking fit. She mumbled a word of thanks, ruffled his hair, and then lowered herself to the side, closed her eyes blissfully against the first rays of morning, and pulled a pillow partially over her head. 

Xzar scooted nervously away from her, pressing up against the opposite wall and the headboard and wriggling himself into a sitting position. She lost track of him for a bit, dosing, but then came back to wakefulness when he spoke: "You still have no clothes!" he complained. "And you smell!"

"Said the kettle to the pot," she mumbled into the blankets.

"You're crazy, go away," he oozed haughtily.

"We're in my room," she retorted, which was probably true. Either way it seemed unlikely Xzar would be giving her that nap.

He looked back and forward to either side of the room so fast she felt the bed creak. "Why is your room so nice?" he complained. "Its much nicer than myyy rooms, why do you always get the nice things? And those curtains, I want those curtains! And that fly, it's spectacular!" he seethed with jealousy.

Aegis mumbled something incoherent, because truly there were no coherent answers to give him. Aegis did vaguely remember paying money for a nicer room on arrival at the Burning Wizard. She remembered belatedly realizing Imoen would be cross with her for how much she paid. But she hadn't been thinking straight, she'd been so angry about the assassin, and all she'd known for sure in that moment was she'd needed a room that locked for the evening, one she hadn't needed to share.

A better room would explain the bed they were on, and why it fit both of them. Aegis tried not to think about their limited funds, or about the long term consequences of sleeping with a necromancer. She just wanted another sixty minutes of calm. Could Xzar please give that to her? Please?

A long moment passed in which her accidental lover squirmed about like an impatient toddler with ants in his trouser seat. Then, when it seemed he had calmed down a little and Aegis had nearly drifted off again, she felt the bed rock and shift as he made his way closer to her. At first he simply scooted towards her and away from the wall. Then he actively sat beside her, and she felt the depression of his hand on the bed as he leaned curiously over her. He hovered there for a long moment.

"Did I have sex with you?" he asked her.

"Likely," she told him.

"But why? If you were not trying to steal my soul, or my kidneys, then what was the objective? You are not a very attractive prospect," he observed, and then finally struck upon an explanation: "You mustn't have cost very much."

Ho, now, that was low. "I was two million gold," she grumbled sarcastically.

"What! Well that's terribly overpriced for a fattened lamb. I shall simply have to return you. Where did I put that bill of sale? Or were you a rental?"

"Xzar..." she growled and felt him jump and tremble slightly. "Unless you want me to pitch you out the window and into the neighbor's chicken coup, shut up. You don't have to be here. I'm not holding you down. Either go back to sleep, or put your clothes on and go to breakfast. Your clothes this time, not any of mine."

A long moment passed in silence, before, "Aren't I loooaaathesome, nature child?" he cooed, tasting the word as if it were one he heard often. "Dissstuuurbing, oafish, unnatural, unpleasant, unsettling, disssgusting, wrong? Don't you hhhaaattte meee, like the druuiiid does?"

"Apparently not, or we wouldn't be here."

Her blunt and matter-of-fact answer seemed to confuse her wizard, who was again quiet for a very long while. He was quiet for so long, in fact, that Aegis soon forgot the liver-coveting madman was still perched hovering over her, his body on one side and one hand on the other. She was almost back to sleep when she felt him lean down as breath tickled her ear and cheek.

He touched her, pressed into her, and she realize she was feeling a kiss as it was pressed into her hair. She didn't react, at least not voluntarily, but a little tingle of interest shot through her spine, and it seemed that her peripheral nerves remembered something her mind did not. He hovered there a little longer, as her brain came back around to the idea that she had definitely slept with this man, and apparently, it hadn't gone poorly.

He took his arm from around her, so he was no longer looming, but then wiggled and rolled with the blankets until he was settled in beside her, his back against hers. 

Chapter Text

[Past, Childhood; Dreaming]

Gorion was deeply absorbed in writing letters. He didn't seem to hear her. It wasn't like him to get so drawn into something that he became numb to the outside world. To her, his ears seemed as sensitive as any elf's, his intuition sharp as a needle; usually he could tell if she was up to mischief many rooms away. She studied the look on his face, and through her own dilemma saw that he was neither excited nor tracking down the solution to an interesting riddle; he seemed plainly worried.

"Papa?" she mumbled softly. He gave a little jump and looked quickly to her. For a moment she saw a haunted look in his eyes, a look she'd only ever seen rarely and briefly but one she knew well. It turned up here and there, usually when he thought she wasn't looking. But sometimes when he was staring straight at her, straight into her eyes, straight into her soul, she saw it. Those times, she always knew she had done something terribly wrong. But then the haunted look was gone, and he smiled with a golden warmth that drove away all darkness.

"Yes, my child? Do you need something?"

Aegis wrung her hands against one another, and pushed yellow curls out of her face. She was holding a red ribbon that had come undone from her hair earlier. Red, her papa had told her, was one of Faerun's more expensive dye colors. She knew not to lose it. She knew why not to lose it. Her papa had explained it, and it had made sense, and so here it was: Safe in her hand, unforgotten.

"Um..."

Her shoes were missing, but that didn't matter. She'd wanted to feel the grass between her toes, and the gentle chastises of monks towards her state of undress weren't the reason for her nervousness. Shoes, she could always find again. Shoes weren't red.

"Is something wrong?" he prompted gently. Gorion seemed great and tall, and infinite font of wisdom. He even looked happy have his studies disrupted. Had he always had silver hair?

"Papa," she said slowly. "Am... Am I broken?"

Gorion sat up straight in alarm, sea-colored eyes widening. "Aegis," he admonished, turning in his seat and holding his hands out to her to urge her closer. "What is wrong?"

She bit her lower lip and wrung at the hem of her tunic. "Immy... Immy and I were playing and..." she trailed off and wiggled about for a moment. Gorion knelt down and took his daughter's sunkissed face in his palms. Then he detangled her fingers from her hem, and held them in his own.

"Tell me what happened, child," he encouraged calmly.

"I was playing... and and a bird struck one of the windows. We went up to look at it and it's neck was broken and it couldn't move. Immy was sad and I didn't get it, and I laughed. She told me I was bad for laughing, and I was confused! I asked her what was wrong and she said people aren't supposed to be happy when they watch things die."

Aegis was starting to tear up, frustrated, lost. Gorion's was holding her hands very tightly.

"She said I should be sad, but I wasn't sad at all! Then she told me Mittens would die one day and asked if I would be sad watching that and I said no and she told me that was bad of me she wouldn't play with me anymore and she t-took the b-bird and r-ran o-off," her words had started dissolving into sobs, and each one was like a knife.

He tugged her swiftly into his arms, burying her in one of the warmest and most secure hugs she had ever received. Aegis clutched at his robes tightly, hiccuping a little in her frustrated distress. She tried to get her words together to ask him a question again, but he hushed her and pressed her into himself. He rubbed her little back and rocked her until her sobs had dissipated. She clung tightly to him, trusting he could and would make the world clearer to her.

"You are not broken, Aegis," he told her at last. 

"B-but-"

"You are not broken. And it would not matter if you were. We do not pick what we are, my beautiful child. We pick who we become. I cannot be an elf; You cannot pick what you feel; no one chooses to be broken. But we pick what to do with ourselves. We see who we are, we stare at ourselves in the mirror, and we choose. And in choosing, we are light or dark."

"But what do I do?" she mumbled tearfully. "I don't know what to do! I don't know how to pretend!"

"Never pretend!" he whispered in a surprised voice, and then smoothed tears and stray hair from her face. "You don't have to pretend a thing. You already know what you love. Take care of the things you love, Aegis. Take care of small birds and kittens and skunks and toads, and all the other little creatures you adore. That is what makes you good. Not pretending to be sad."

"Where did Immy go," she blubbered. "What did she do with the bi-ird...?"

Gorion stood and took her hand in one of his. "Perhaps we should go find out. Perhaps there is one final act of care the bird may be in need of: To be buried kindly and well."

[Present]

Aegis only managed to get another hour of sleep before roosters, real and imagined, coaxed her from slumber. This time, she was ready to get up. She tried to roll onto her back first, but found that Xzar was in the way. He had closed the gap between them and was nestled up against her. Had he done it subconsciously? She didn't remember.

She glanced over her shoulder at the necromancer, but all she could see was a mop of graham hair and a cocoon of protective blanket. A moment passed in sleepy numbness for her, followed by another suffused in amusement, and then finally a lingering feeling of endearment settled in.

This wasn't as bad as it could have been. This was, actually, sort of funny.

Aegis eased herself carefully out of the bed and then walked over to the other side of the room. There she found a washing basin, a pitcher of air temperature water, a bar of soap and several wash cloths. After wiping herself clean from the previous night's activities, she set about to putting on fresh clothes and gathering up her used things for the laundress to wash. She also fetched Xzar's spare robes and placed them in reach of the bed.

Only once his clothes were sorted and Aegis herself was dressed did she reach over and give the wizard's shoulder a gentle shake. The necromancer writhed a little and then blinked to wakefulness. By the time he was cognizant, Aegis was no longer touching him. He yawned and propped himself up on one skinny elbow. Aegis couldn't help but look him up and down, her eyes lingering on the arch of his back and the way the sheet fabric bunched around his narrow chest and waist. Hmm.

"Are you a cannibal?" the necromancer queried.

Aegis looked back to his face, and shook out a shift in need of laundering. "Good morning, Xzar. What's a 'cannibal'?"

Xzar blinked and thought about the question for a moment, "Something that eats its own kind, technically," he drawled thoughtfully. "Although usually dirty Harpers use it to mean eating any humanoids at all."

Aegis idly wondered if this was a variant of his soul eating question. She folded up the shift and found a smile cracked its way across her face. "Why do you ask?" she wondered mischievously, advancing a step towards him, invading his personal space, and licking her lips. "Am I looking at you like you're an oh-so-delicious chunk of veal?"

Xzar's eyes widened slightly and he cowed down from her with a little eep. Regrettably, Aegis suspected she might be toying with the edges of a traumatized behavior she didn't really understand, and that it was wrong of her to continue. She stood back a step, smiled a little apologetically and hunched down in front of him, putting herself below his level. The change in relative elevation seemed to reassure him and he sat up, still holding tightly onto a blanket.

"Yes," he pouted, as his feet slipped off the bed, his tone indicating that he was quite offended by her. She continued smiling up at him. "Like a cannibal! Are you sure you don't want my kidneys? Well you can't have them! Stop- stop looking- your eyes! I will tear them out and cook them with broad beans!"

"I'm sorry," she told him honestly as she tucked away the shift for whenever there'd next be time to clean it. "If I leave you alone in here, are you going to bathe and dress yourself or are you going to conduct strange blood rites, summon an undead battalion, dress it up in pretty ribbons, conquer the world, accidentally light yourself on fire, conjure a cake, and then run streaking naked through the city until someone douses you with a barrel of cow milk?"

Xzar glared at her. "Preposterous!" he blustered. "They get very touchy about summoning undead battalions here, you know, and the nearest dairy farm is much too far for a naked person to reach while on fire before succumbing to their wounds. Barrels of cow milk are only for storage and long distance transportation! It would have to be a pitcher or bottle and then why wouldn't a person use water anyway and- why are you smiling at me like that?"

Aegis was grinning more and more, not least of which was because the necromancer had released the blanket so that he might gesticulate wildly with his hands, and now the fabric had slipped dangerously low around his hips. He looked down and then squeaked and gathered the fabric up against him again, looking scandalized at her. Aegis laughed, Xzar scowled.

"You-" he growled, indignant, "You-you-you think I'm... I'm.. You think I'm cute," and he uttered that final word as if it were some terrible curse. "Like a little piglet, or angel, or faerie, or doll, or-or-or virgin stable boy! I am not! I am not cute! Don't think it! I will never, am never, could be never-!"

She had the decency to look innocent.

"I am Xzar! Destroyer of worlds, bringer of plagues, master of undeath and wizardry! I should call down a curse on you now, harlot, hellion, harpy! I am NOT CUTE. Where is my spellbook?!"

Aegis stood up a little in her crouch, invading his personal space. Xzar choked off and took in a breath to scream, but Aegis swiftly leaned in to kiss his forehead and he clutched helplessly at her shirt sleeve. Instead of screaming, he made an inarticulate sound in the back of his throat that was somewhere between a hum and a choke. He ducked his head a little. Aegis watched him.

"Are you sure you aren't cute?" she asked him.

He scoffed. "Have you any idea..." he uttered, and his voice was in a low and viperous tone, far darker, far more cunning, "...what kind of monster you are toying with...? Have you any clue... what sorts of flesh have passed these teeth...?"

Aegis drew her head back and looked at him in surprise, noticing that everything about the way he held himself had changed, from the tiny quirks of his facial expression to the slit and dangerous gleam of his eyes. For a moment she stared at him, recognizing a thing, a creature, a deeper self that she had seen in the necromancer before.

"What kind of 'Monster'?" she repeated his question. "The kind that overindulges in elfin wine, apparently."

A sick smile twisted coyly over his face. "And other elfin things. Speaking of elves, they know something's wrong with you, but not what!"

Aegis winced back on her heels and glanced him up and down. Xzar gave a vicious, delighted sneer. He seemed to peg her as afraid of something, something to which he had answers. Maybe she was. Maybe he did. He propped himself up with a sort of serpentine coil. "I wonder if they'd still love you should they learn-" His eyes narrowed when he saw a note of mischievousness in her expression. "-what... you...-?"

"Tell me a story about rabbits, Xzar," said Aegis.

A shock ran through the man's spine and his eyes opened wide and his mouth hung open dumbly for a moment. Then animation returned to him. "They're always so smug in a race! Nasty things; beady eyes, but terrible at keeping the time! Just because you get ahead doesn't mean you'll stay there, you know!"

She smirked. Although she could see no sign of the buried serpent in Xzar's face, she was sure it was both cognizant and reasonably miffed.

"What? Whaaaattt?" he whined at the look she gave him, not understanding where it came from. "Would you've rather a story of bears and gold?"

"I'm afraid you might be just a little cute," she told him.

"I am most definitely cute," he reprimanded her. "I am adorably terrifying. And terrifyingly adorable! And adrrifyingly teorable. That's because: I am Xzar." He beamed at her.

"Alright, mister adriffyingly teorable, I'm going to give you some privacy so you can bathe and dress yourself. Good luck."

"WAIT!" he shrieked as she turned to leave. Aegis blinked and looked back at him. He stared dumbly after her a moment, then looked at the ceiling, his feet, both his hands, and out the window. Aegis, who had seen such a display before, knew that Xzar was merely crazy and had not actually forgotten he'd been mid-conversation. She waited patiently. After a long moment, an answer as innocuous and lucid as his description of hair cream emerged: "Do I have clean undergarments this time?" he asked her.

"You do," she reassured him.

He squealed happily, hugging his blankets around him. "You ah dah bestest mummy evah!" he gushed.

Aegis rolled her eyes, gave him a salute, and then headed out the door. "Your spellbook's under the bed," she called quietly over her shoulder. She heard a thud behind her and some flailing about in the blankets before finally,

"Ooh, so it is!"

Aegis closed the door behind her and then turned around to see a curious looking Imoen standing down the hallway just to her left. "Was that Xzar?" she asked.

Aegis froze, caught red-handed. Oh no. "Er..." she managed.

Imoen rolled her eyes and made a face. "And here I thought you'd got lucky last night!" Imoen whined. "You were getting along so well with that cute bard and everything. But it turns out you just got too drunk to figure out what room you ought to sleep in!"

Aegis stared at Imoen, mind trying to process what she was hearing. Click. Click. Click.

"I had to sleep with Montaron!" Imoen was complaining. "He snored all night too, it was terrible!"

Click. Click. Click. Ding! Dear sweet Oghma, don't let her realize I rented a nicer room. Don't let her realize there is only one bed. "Um..."

"Don't ever do that to me again Aegy!" Imoen first pouted, then laughed. "We're sisters! We gotta stick together! Besides, who knows, Xzar might try to steal your eyes in your sleep or something!" She winked.

"I'm sorry?"

"You bet your ass you are! Oh! I think we should move back to the Sheaf or, you know, at least the Juggler. You didn't rent for more than one night, did you?"

"I did not," Aegis continued.

"I'll help you pack!"

"No!" Aegis shouted, then gulped when Imoen nearly jumped out of her skin. "No," she repeated to her sister's confused gaze, "I told him to take a bath! Don't go in there unless you want to be eternally mentally scarred by the sight of a naked madman trying to bathe himself!"

A naked madman who Aegis inexplicably found endearing, whom she had repeatedly kept looking at, and whom she was perhaps even now still thinking about.

Imoen's mouth rounded out into a sympathetic 'o.' She gave Aegis a pat on the shoulder. "Well then, let's get you some breakfast, and then maybe we can join back up with Khalid and Jaheira and see what's what?."

"Sounds like a plan..." As she follows Imoen, Aegis spared a prayer to Oghma and maybe half a different prayer to Mask.

Chapter Text

[Past; Memories; Final Thoughts]

"Papa," Aegis interrupted, "when is killing bad and when is it good? How can you tell the difference?"

Gorion looked up from the story he'd been reading aloud, down to the young girl who was drawing pictures at his knee. They were on the steps of the library, and the air was fresh. Years ago these questions would have unsettled him, and caused him to doubt the judgement call he'd made when he'd first brought her to the Keep. Now he saw them differently: As the learning process of a very warm and well-meaning child who was instinctively seeking help in surmounting her spiritual handicap.

"Killing is never good, my child."

She looked up at him in surprise. "But in the stories, good people kill stuff all the time! And people cheer them, and give them honors, and there's gold-! I mean, they are killing evil people, aren't they?"

"Killing is never good," he repeated, "even when the person killed is very evil."

She was puzzled. "But then why do good people do it, and why are they cheered? And animals kill stuff, are they being evil?"

"Something doesn't have to be evil just because it's not good. Many things are in the middle of these extremes. In this life, killing is often necessary. But being necessary does not make something good," he explained. "We kill to survive, to eat, to protect, and to ensure evil deeds are not repeated. Sometimes we kill wrongly; sometimes it is difficult to decide whether killing is necessary or merely easy. It is not trivial to tell the difference. But it is important that you should know: killing is never good. It should be used sparingly, and only when there is little other choice."

"But those adventures killed loads of goblins, that's not sparingly."

"The goblins would have killed them in turn."

"Should they have tried talking to the goblins first?"

"Perhaps," Gorion said after he thought about the question for a bit, "although goblins are so little inclined to behave themselves that it is not a far stretch to assume most would not be amenable to conversation. Even if they had been, they likely would have betrayed the adventurers."

"So," Aegis said slowly and with visible discomfort, "so it's very hard to tell. A lot of times you guess. And even when you think you know, sometimes you don't. But how am I supposed to guess, if normal people can't?"

Gorion folded closed the storybook and thought about this. Most days, it seemed, Aegis was not the only one of them who was learning. She asked many questions other children took for granted, and pointed out holes in moral reasoning that most men had no qualms with. It was her father's taint, ironically, that made Aegis unusually sensitive to moral inconsistencies. Perhaps more sensitive to them than any actual sage Gorion had ever met. 

"Would it be acceptable for you to kill me?" he asked her.

"No!" she exclaimed, horrified.

"What about a red dragon?"

"...I don't know..." she hesitated. "The books say red dragons are bad."

"Goblins?"

"I... the stories say so..." she fumbled again.

Gorion considered this. "I think, my beautiful child, that if you focus on life as sacred—as you are already doing—as opposed to attempting to pre-determine which lives are expendable and which are not, then you may turn out the wisest of us all in this area."

She frowned up at him uncertainly. He smiled. She trusted his judgement, and smiled back at him. Then she blinked. "There's a feather in your hair again," she told him helpfully.

Gorion jumped, combed quickly through his hair, and quickly detached the offending article. "Pigeons," he muttered, and turned a mildly impatient eye skyward.

[21 Hours After Departing Candlekeep]

Existence was turmoil.

There was no peace. There was no rest. There was churning, painful churning, and stretching between four points and four arguments and four holds.

There was going to be no release, no choice, no further action permitted (except perhaps by one). He belonged to one of them. As soon as all arguments were heard, he would be filed away.

He was an inconvenience. A problem. He had walked where only dead things tread; he had interfered and he had been interfered with.

Now there was no consensus on who owed him, or on who was responsible for reprimanding him for such foolishness. Was he the child of Knowledge, as he had pledged? Had he been unjustly stolen from Magic, to whom he needed to be returned? Did he rightfully belong with his bloodline, with the Sun? It didn't matter. Not Oghma, not Deneir; neither Milil nor Gond; not Mystra, nor Lathander had any choices left. It was not their fight; it was not their dance.

Unless, perhaps, he belonged to one of the dancers instead?

Never.

So then: Fear the dark. Recant. Submit. Rest. Be at Peace. 

No. Never. Never.

There could be no neutrality, no silence, no stillness. Observations could never again be made from afar with a detached and logical mindset. There would be no 'wait and see.' there was only the intense unwavering sureness of his decision, his devotion; there was the truth and only the truth.

They demanded, and he refused. He demanded, and they could or would not give. Existence was at a stalemate.

Then: Change. A word was spoken, an offer; and he responded in acceptance.  Existence trembled with it, with the thunder, with the certainty, with the pact, and the promise, and the binding. He felt, distantly, an affirmation: Adoring and sure of him, accepting of him; and then he was lent out again, gone, with its blessing. 

Existence.

Astral.

Ether.

Life.

He took in a hard, shuddering gasp, his whole body clenching violently. Then, because his lungs and stomach were filled with quickly receding rot, he coughed and sputtered and writhed and then finally vomited over the side of the altar.

For a moment existence was just whirling chaos; his mind fragmented and unaligned. He did not know who he was; there was no sense of self, of identity, of anything other than animal life. His arms trembled violently. He had been cursed, or something similar. Damaged. And then flayed open by well-meaning gods who could never quite comprehend mortal suffering.

Ah. There was some sense of self: Disillusionment, pain, suffering. He was alive, and he knew it with a little more sureness than a rat might have. He was alive, and he had been dead, and the gods were unhappy, all but two.

They'd had... terms. Terms he'd... implicitly agreed to.

He became aware of an exhausted chuckle, and he looked up to see a man standing there, a man dressed in garishly scarlet robes with a kind but shrewd face and dancing eyes.

"You are lucky I am a skillful negotiator, old friend," the man told him mischievously. "And that I managed to reach you before the day was out. It certainly helped in the bargaining process." His eyes softened. "I only wish I had been a day sooner..."

Breathing heavily, with scarcely a thought to his name, the revived man could only stare for a moment. Then another pang shot through him and he vomited again. A hand settled soothingly on his back.

"Do you know me?" the scarlet-garbed man asked with great concern.

He raked his mind, conscious of a flow of racing memories that seemed elusive beneath his grasp. Then he recalled the tug-of-war of the gods as they had tried to disentangle him from those memories, and he clung to them with a jealous fervor.

He looked at the scarlet-clad man shakily. "E-... Elmin-s-ster..." he slurred.

The red-robed man—wizard—smiled gently and nodded. "Indeed I am. And you, my dear friend, now owe me several very expensive diamonds and a number of rare celestial feathers."

He choked and sloppily rubbed his face. The loosely beaded strands of his hair clacked slightly against his shoulder. There was dirt on him, and grime. He'd been in the ground almost twenty-four hours. "Where is... W-why...? Why have you...?"

"Well I was sternly ordered not to," Elminster mused, "and so therefore, of course, I had to. Which, given that Mystra was sympathetic both to Oghma and to your suffering, I suppose is precisely why she told me not to. Oh dear. Am I becoming predictable...?"

The revived man half laughed, half sobbed, then moaned low. "I-I'm not whole," he sputtered weakly. "I'm not-" He sifted through those memories, trying to remember something important.

"That blade which pierced your breast was meant for killing children of Bhaal, old friend, not common men," Elminster explained, and blue eyes snapped immediately up to his face.

Oh gods. Gods, please, please, was she...?

"I'm afraid it might have been a bit rude to your spirit," continued Elminster. "And there are cosmic forces at work which even I cannot overstep." He settled down unceremoniously on the side of the alter, offering a helping hand as the revived man tried to sit. Pain and disorientation were making that difficult. "The Lords of Death are stymieing any attempts to interfere in their matters, especially attempts by the other pantheons. And I'm afraid your meddling made doing anything for you almost impossible. I did warn you, you know. Ahead of time."

"Elminster..." the other man hissed, his mind racing with a thousand fears and horrors.

The red-robed man chuckled. "I owed you, old friend. But I warn you, this was no clean miracle. It took a great deal of bartering, and you are not free. There are... conditions." Elminster gestured to their surroundings as they spoke, and the revived man realized that they were neither in a temple of Oghma nor Mystra, but rather of Lathander. He noted this, but distantly. He was still trying to piece together his memories of his death. "Listen to me and pay grave attention, old friend: You aren't to interfere with the Bhaalspawn crisis any longer; You can't even be seen by one. Do you understand what I am telling you? One word, one glance, one touch... Your soul would be forfeited. This is a gamble, and-"

"Elminster!"

The wizard blinked in surprise.

Gorion looked at him with wild blue eyes, his arms shaking, jaw trembling. "Where is she?" he nearly whimpered. "Where is my child?"

Foster Child. Elminster sighed. He was not the only one who had become predictable in old age. "Close," he assured the other man.

"She lives...?" He could barely breathe.

The archmage nodded. "Aye."

Gorion slumped with relief.

Elminster looked at him sympathetically a moment, then rummaged about on his person and drew out a long-necked bottle and two wooden mugs. "Here. Let's get a little wine in you first. You're as gray as your hair."

"Wh..." Gorion breathed, shuddering. "Why Lathander...? Why would the Morninglord help me...?"

"Lathander is a deity intolerant of any inaction that permits evil to prosper," Elminster noted. "In that perhaps he can empathize with you. I suppose he wishes you to understand the severity of your mistake, that such clarity might permit you to rest in peace. As he opposes the Gods of Death directly, he ironically had greater jurisdiction to revive you than either god you actually prayed to in life. A word in your favor might have been put in by your great grand dam-"

Gorion laughed.

Elminster eyed him before holding out the cup of wine. "What is funny?" he queried.

Gorion contemplated the offered wine and the wizard's red robes, both of which reminded him of his child, and a smile eased over his face. "I made no mistake," he murmured weakly. "I made no mistake in choosing to raise my daughter. It is perhaps the only thing I did not make a mistake in doing."

Foster Daughter, Elminster chose not to remind him. "I knew you would say that; so I supposed you wouldn't mind a difference in jurisprudence that worked out to your favor, mm? Drink, friend. It'll put some warmth back in your bones."

Chapter Text

[Present]

Jaheira was reserved that morning, and she spoke to Aegis in such a civil manner that the younger woman could hope there might be some kind of peace between them.

The group of six (and a racoon) decided to head out early that morning to deal with some bandits in the area, in the hopes of increasing their funds. They didn't discuss the happenings of the night before just yet, and Aegis was using a spare short sword they had looted on the way in to Beregost and carrying a leather bound shield.

The short sword was... unfamiliar in her hand, even though she had trained with un-sharpened specimens in the past. She would have to eventually ask Jaheira about what had happened to her hatchet, but she was leery of shattering whatever peace had settled over the party this morning.

By noon, and through following the instructions from town, they had waylaid two small bandit camps through a mixture of Aegis's tracking, Jaheira's natural awareness, and Montaron's seeming familiarity with how these sorts of men planned their raids. They had also amassed a haul of scalps ("Yuck," grimaced Imoen) and ill-gotten goods.

Khalid was saying something about tracking down the previous owners of valuable certain effects. Imoen and Montaron were trying to make him see reason, one with charms and the other with growls. Jaheira was glaring at Xzar (who appeared to be chasing down small animals for their lungs again) and muttering to herself in Elfin.

As evening approach, they were counter-waylaid by a larger group of bandits. Montaron had been near the edge of a clearing, looting a corpse, and was the first to get jumped. Aegis was nearest, and heard a cuss, torn grass and scuffed dirt. She looked to find two full sized men on top of him with one forcing a blade towards his skull, and another was darting up alongside him with a crossbow. The bandit aimed down at Montaron's forehead. The plan was clearly to take out one of them as fast as possible and cut the party down to five.

Aegis stiff armed the man out of the way so hard that bones audibly crackled and the crossbow fired wildly into the trees. The bolt missed one of at least seven additional bandits spilling out of the forest. Imoen loosed an arrow and had better luck hitting a target. Khalid and Jaheira were moving to help them. Xzar popped out of a nearby bush crying delightedly, "Here I am!" and then fired off an unnatural green beam of light; his target staggered and slowed as if suddenly aged or drained of vim.  One of the men who'd jumped Monatron staggered to his feet and waded into a confrontation with Aegis, only to be surprised when a raccoon dropped suddenly out of the canopy onto his head and sent his skullcap down over his eyes.

Aegis shoved him out of the way, ran the rest of the way to Montaron, drew back her leg and gave the man on top of him a sharp kick in the ribs. Ribs cracked. The halfling quickly and repeatedly knifed the guy. Aegis dropped to a knee, shouldered the bandit off of him, and dragged Montaron out from underneath him by the shoulder.

Montaron coughed and rubbed his lips clean, and then laughed blackly up at her. "Can't resist the ol' halfling charm, eh? Woulda left you to th' crows."

Aegis, who by now had a read on this nasty little man, gave him a flat look and then pinched his backside before regaining her feet.

Montaron, yelped and shouted colorful invective after her as she caught an arrow on her flimsy shield and headed straight into the oncoming bandits."Fuggin ugly nature troll!" he shouted behind her, and then, abruptly, laughed.

The party was outnumbered.

But they had better equipment, a wizard, a druid, a wand of magic missiles, and a party leader who seemed to have forgotten she had a sword and was instead just grabbing people and smacking them around, to more or less the same ultimate effect. 

At the end of the encounter, there were ten more dead bandits and an eleventh moaning and bawling to himself in a ditch after a racoon had landed on his head and promptly bitten out one of his eyes. Aegis didn't have the heart to kill him, Jaheira didn't have the sympathy to heal him, and both acted as if Montaron wasn't going to quietly handle things for the extra scalp money the moment they were out of earshot.

Were there many more live bandits in the area, or had they successfully cleared this route? It was difficult to say. Cowards or scouts might have overseen the fight and flit off to report to a larger group.

Having exhausted many of their resources for the day, the party unanimously agreed to moved location to a nearby stream where rough stones obscured most of their tracks for about a mile. From there they found a place to rest, hoping they might be able to clean up a bit and have a meal in peace.

As they settled down to discuss their next move, Jaheira finally brought up the assassination attempt from yesterday. She did so wordlessly by passing a scroll across the tree stump they were using for a table. Aegis took it, unrolled it, and realized it might have been found on the body of the assassin. Montaron and Imoen leaned close on either side to catch the words.

"Hoi, it's addressed to 'persons of unsavory persuasions,' " Imoen noted. "I guess that means you, Montaron!"

The Halfling growled and rubbed his chin at the notice, as if curious about why he hadn't heard of the bounty himself. "'Sa handsome price on your head, girly, and getting nicer."

"That's q-quite enough," Khalid stuttered, "must you always be so- so-"

"-unsavory?" Jahiera prompted with a growl.

Aegis, brows drawn together in a tight knot, was still coming to terms with the fact that anyone wanted her dead at all. "This feels surreal. I'm the orphaned ward of a Candlekeep monk. Why the hell is my life worth this price?" There was a lock of silver hair stuffed in her armor, and she touched it briefly as she tossed down the scroll and tried to piece together this mystery. "How long have I been in danger? Was this why we never left Candlekeep before? Was he hiding me from someone?" She looked to the two half elves, but Khalid shook his head unknowingly.

"Your foster f-father was a v-very p-private man," Khalid said slowly. "W-we read b-between the lines and w-wagered something was amiss. But he never c-clarified."

A heavy weight settled on Aegis's shoulders. Gorion had died for her. Intentionally. And he'd been protecting her from something monstrous long before that. Why hadn't he told her? Had been trying to shield her innocence? She would have appreciated some insight into what the hell was hunting her!

"Who were yer real parents, girly?" Montaron prodded. Aegis shrugged helplessly. "Then maybe ye've got some blood in ya that others' want ta' keep dead, an' yer the only one who ain't been told." A giggle from the nearby Xzar made a chill run up Aegis's spine, and she barely heard Montaron muse, "Could be a noble, or some fool wizard's bastard brat. Nice o' th' monk ta leave ya without a clue."

Aegis shook her head and then bitterly rolled up the scroll and stuffed it away. "It doesn't matter," she grumbled. Jaheira lifted a brow. "We're here to investigate Nashkel and that's what we're going to do."

"You don't want to try and trace this bounty?" the half elf asked curiously, perhaps because she'd expected Aegis to try and derail their quest.

"Where would I look?" their budding ranger snarled. "Do you think the horned man's been waltzing around local Beregost and I can get a lead on his location from the local rumor mill? I doubt the person who wrote this letter knows who they're workign for, much less whoever got it into the hands of this dwarf."

"Ya ain't wrong," muttered Montaron, who snatched the letter right out of her backpack again to take another look at it. "S' written out like a day job for planting pansies. It's probably passed through at least a dozen hands."

"We need more clues," groused Aegis, who decided to let him have it. "And somehow I doubt this is going to be the last attempt. If trouble is going to follow us anyway then let's go to Nashkel and stuff our noses in it. Maybe we'll luck out and catch the scent of both problems."

Montaron's face wasn't exactly telling, but whoever he worked for, it seemed they weren't necessarily friends with the people who'd put out this bounty. He had a job to do, and she was his muscle; she had more to gain from his expert opinion than from fearing him. She more or less understood where she stood with him.

What Aegis didn't see coming was for a flash of respect to pass across Jaheira's face. "We'll send word to friends," the druid told her, "but we'll be discrete. Perhaps we can gather a bit of information for you."

"G-gorion mentioned he t-thought you would be c-comfortable on the r-road. Still, I-I confess I'm s-surprised you're so e-enthusiastic about our q-quest after never t-traveling before," Khalid noted.

"I never belonged cooped up in a library," Aegis grumbled bitterly. "Like a bull in a china shop. Now I'm wondering jf there might have been a reason Gorion had to keep me in one for so long. I'm grateful. But obviously he can't protect me anymore, and I haven't a scrap of the fighting knowledge he had. The monster who came to kill him walked through his spells like-" She grimaced and clenched her fists. "I need to learn a hell of a lot more about everything or I'm going to get myself killed. We shouldn't stay here more than a few days."

"With that, I can agree," Jahiera noted, then turned a critical glance at Montaron, who was still studying the scroll had been in and thumbing his chin. "Though perhaps we should travel separately."

Aegis frowned, confused at what she had meant. Gorion and Jaheira herself had both advised traveling in a decent sized group. Why split up, unless-? Oh. Oh.

"You gotta problem, elfy?" the halfling growled, standing up.

"Do you?" Jaheira asked and remained seated. "I would not put it above you, short as you are, to attempt to collect on such a bounty."

"Uuuuggh," moaned Xzar from behind them, glancing disgusted over his shoulder at Jaheira. "And what makes you so wonderfully nooobbblleee? Your pointy eeaaars? I tried that once you know..."

"As for you, madman, you would be wise to keep your tongue in your head," the half elf retorted, arms still crossed over her chest.

"Ho! Bold ya' are, ya self-righteous wench-" Montaron growled, slipping a hand behind himself and slowly unsheathing a dirk. "Best watch yer words."

She gave her head a toss. "You are a nuisance and a mistake waiting to happen; but if I thought you were any true threat I would have already rooted and gutted your miserable dark hide," she growled.

"Dear-" Khalid tried to calm her, standing up to come up to her side. Xzar had homed in on the conversation and was leering excitedly at the two. "P-please do be reasonable, we have only-"

"I have been plenty reasonable," Jahiera told him, rising to her feet at last. Imoen spied Montaron slicking a leaf of something either poisonous or narcotic over his dirk. She gave Aegis an alarmed look. Aegis took the hint. Jaheira was proclaiming what was obvious: "The human is clearly some form of necromancer, a practitioner of the most foul of wizardring arts, and the halfling has-"

"-had enough out of you-!" Montaron hissed, and with surprising speed he dashed towards the druid. Khalid was drawing his new sword in an instant, Xzar's fingertips flashed green and he gave a manic cackle, and simultaneously Jaheira summoned forward three spears of wood.

Imoen jumped to her feet and threw out her arms shouting, "Wait a second, just wait one second-"

Aegis didn't wait. She lunged to her feet between both parties.

"Wait-!" Khalid tried to tell his wife, and his warning was immediately eclipsed by Xzar's shriek of: "Monty!" There was the sound of several weapons impacting leather. The party skid to a halt.

Standing between them, face screwed up in a mixture of pain and patience, Aegis turned her gaze from a wide-eyed and indignant Jaheira down to a very startled looking Montaron. She'd taken spears to one shoulder, and, on the other side, a blade to the waist.

"Shit," the halfling muttered, and had the decency to sound dismayed. Aegis glanced down at where about three inches of steel had disappeared into her midsection, eyed him, and grunted in a confirmatory way: Yes, little man. Shit.

"Aegis-" Jaheira began angrily and was interrupted by Khalid's, "The blade!" because he had a clear line of vision to the injury that Jaheira did not. Aegis tried to change her footing, but the halfling hissed at her, jumping to keep at her side and put his other hand restrictively to her hip.

"Don't move, stupid!" he instructed, changing his grip on the knife so he could pull it out straight.

"Not-not-not, distracted, not good, un-good, bad." Xzar began babbling erratically, spell forgotten.

"You s-stabbed-d-!" Khalid shouted as the party began moving again, converging on her position.

"Don't you think I fucking know that!?" Montaron shouted back, palm over the injury like he didn't trust Aegis to depress on it herself.

Maybe that was wise. She felt... tingly. Her eyelids felt heavy. Should she-? Should she be doing something... right now? Aegis swooned slightly. Imoen and Jaheira caught her and tried to push her upright. She blinked hazily a moment and then her legs gave out beneath her. Imoen eeped and she and Montaron were almost crushed beneath her. Together, with Khalid and Jaheira, they got her flat on the ground.

"Ungodly mongrel!" Jahiera hissed, eyes flaming, when she realized what must be wrong. "What did you do?"

Montaron didn't respond because he had grabbed a vial and was uncorking it with his teeth. He spit the cork away. "Get 'er mouth open," he ordered.

"You will not be feeding her anything!" Jahiera uttered in a most deadly voice. "What venom did you use?!"

"Don't be daft, an' do as I says!" Montaron hissed back. "Get her mouth open 'afore we both can live ta regret what a sodding bitch ye' are!"

Seeing Jaheira was about to argue and that Aegis was growing pale and looking steadily more confused, Imoen shoved the older woman aside and wedged her thumb between her sister's teeth. Her glare at Montaron carried and unspoken order. Khalid almost protested but then thought better of it and pressed his hand over the wound in her side to thwart the bleeding. Montaron changed position around her, supported the ranger's head with one hand so he could control the force-feeding, and poured the concoction between her lips with the other.

When Aegis had been fed the last drop of serum there was a tense wait. Imoen tried to help Khalid in applying pressure to the wound. Xzar watched cringed-up and wide-eyed from the side-lines, mumbling soft incoherent things to himself that sounded like potion ingredients. Had they asked, he might have testified to making both the poison and antidote that had gone into this joyous occasion. After a moment he began gnawing on his fingers excitedly.

Whatever pall had been cast upon their ranger seemed to break. Color blushed back to her cheeks and her eyes opened fully again. She winced in the sunlight and then grimaced irritably about herself, looking at the holes her party had gone and poked in her. Montaron, Imoen, and Khalid all visibly relaxed. Then Montaron twisted about and spat at Jaheira: "Well? She's bleedin', aren't you going to do somethin'?"

"How dare you, little man," Jahiera growled, leaning over Aegis and placing her hands gently on the wounds. "How dare you act as if this were my fault!" She muttered words in druidic and the wounds flooded with life energy and sealed. Montaron snarled and Xzar wrinkled his nose.

"Maybe if ya could just leave well enough alone instead o' drownin' us all in your simperin-"

"You attempted to KILL me!" she bellowed hotly.

"Like ya weren't thinkin' the same-! ya said as much ya daft-"

"Guys," Aegis croaked in an effort to get the attention of the two seething faction leaders. "Guys can we not do the 'killing each other' thing any more today? Cause I have a really bad headache right now and would appreciate if I didn't get stabbed again. Might, ya know, aggravate it."

Montaron growled. Jahiera pursed her lips and looked ready to say something. Khalid grabbed his wife's arm and shared a surprisingly stern look with her, one that seemed to deflate her rage slightly. A moment passed in which Imoen tried to help Aegis to a full sitting position and then the party pulled her back to her feet. She waved them off and brushed down her clothing, mumbling that she was fine.

"You could have died," Jaheira disagreed.

Montaron sneered up at the druid, who had, after all, also hit her.

Aegis shrugged. "Yeah that's happening to me a lot lately. Almost dying," she brushed off the incident like she'd brushed off her clothing. "Thanks for fixing me back up. Both of you." Then she rubbed unhappily at her temple. A moment passed in almost reverent silent.

"Wh-what now?" Kalid finally broke the uneasy spell. The party had just turned on itself, with two members clearly trying to kill one another and two more ready to back them up. Could they continue onward like this? Clearly not.

Aegis sighed. "Look if anyone wants to leave, anyone can leave. I'm going to Nashkel. Anyone who wants to go with me, can go with me. Anyone who wants to go alone can go alone. But as for anyone traveling with me and as long as everyone is traveling with me," she turned a baleful glare on the whole party (well, everyone but Imoen), "we put a cap on this thing. No one kills anyone else. And that's final."

"But-!" Xzar protested, because this was the most absurd blasphemy he'd ever heard.

Aegis shot him a look. He cowered from her. Montaron snorted but immediately said, "Sounds fair. S'long as goody-two-shoes over here ain't baitin' another fight."

Khalid frowned "I b-beg your pardon but your ill t-temper is n-not-"

Xzar interjected with a mocking taunt: "Is n-not wh-what?" 

Jaheira was taking no mockery of her man: "Silence, you revolting, perverse excuse for a-!"

"It's yer bitch who can't seem to keep her tongue in her head," Montaron snarled at Khalid.

Aegis shoved Jaheira and Montaron back from one another, threw up her arms, and loudly declared "That's it. You're all out. I'm leaving you here. Have fun with your lives and all that, good luck and so forth." She stalked past them, grabbed her pack off the ground in one motion, and and walked off. "'C'mon Imoen. We need to find some more friends."

Imoen stiffened, put on the spot. She looked at all four party members who were watching Aegis in various disbelief. Then Imoen shrugged and pulled her own pack on and bounced after Aegis "Wait up!" she called "Wait up, I'm coming!"

Khalid frowned towards Montaron and Xzar, took Jaheira's arm, and gently pulled her aside. The two elves shared a look with one another.

Xzar was far less coy about expressing his displeasure. He whirled on Montaron and hissed in a disapproving whisper: "Who is going to stand between me and bears Monty? Who? I cannot cast in these conditions! I demand a raise!"

"Shut up ya damned fool," The halfling whispered back, knowing full well what the necromancer meant.

This was the reason they'd sought out a traveling group in the first place: The roads were harder for a wizard and a thief than they were with an accompanying warrior. The elves would have no trouble getting to Nashkel by themselves; it was their dead friend's ward they were truly concerned about, and they were likely conspiring over ways to apologize to her. But Montaron and Xzar? They needed a meat shield.

"We're in Beregost," Montaron thought rapidly. "We'll contact Kagain. He's workin caravans 'round here, and no doubt we can agree to a bit o' work to get him down to Nashkel." There, that was a solid solution, and Montaron was proud of it. No more pointy-eared problems, or brazen golden-haired twats. Aegis had gotten them to Beregost, and Montaron and Xzar could make the rest of the journey from there.

"A mercenary? Ooh! Do tell, Monatron, with exactly what money will we hire him?" Xzar hissed.

"He knows our handlers are good for payin!"

"Oh and I'm sure he'll agree with nothing up front for provisions!" Xzar agreed grandly.

"D'you got a better idea!?"

The wizard's face suddenly grew dark, his irises blazing a dark emerald green, and his eyes closed to slits. "No, my aggravating little worm-like companion," the necromancer said in a very low voice, and his next words were clearly enunciated and almost patronizing, as if he were bestowing some great favor upon Montaron just by saying them. "Come hell or high water, we stay with the child of death."

"The hell you blatherin' about, ya fool wizard?" Montaron growled, but this conversation was suddenly prickling all the hairs on the back of his neck. Montaron was a cut-throat thug and he knew it; but wizards were a different breed, and there were times Xzar classed into a whole different level of evil.  "Kagain's a good plan and ya know it. Ya can't make me stick my foot back in that hornet's nest and ya ain't got a death wish, so ya won't leave me behind."

"Oh, don't I?" Xzar purred, eyelids heavy. "Unless perhaps I know something you don't?"

"What you gettin' at?" Montaron grumbled, but now he was getting wary. There were times when the two of them were equals in this hair brained pursuit, but there were other times-

"We go with her. Even if it includes tolerating Harpers. Trust me, little fool. We're going to need her. Her, them, the extra layer of protection, all of it."

"She's trouble. She's got a bounty on her head, it's doubled once, and it's gonna double again, I'd bet my blade on it."

Xzar's eyes darkened and for a moment Montaron could suddenly feel cold fingers grasping at his skin, all over him, clawing at his throat and face. Air wouldn't come to him. He gasped out frost, grabbing for his dirk again but then feeling immobilized, as if he could move neither forward nor back. Helplessly, he clawed at his throat.

Xzar lost his focus. Montaron dropped to his knees, gasping. He glared upward to see the necromancer standing there, eyes wide, head cocked to his side, not a thought or dram of sense between both ears. What had he heard? Imoen. Pink girl was laughing at something.

Xzar startled back to attention, and then pouted dramatically down at Montaron.

"I like them much, much better than I like you!" he spat childishly. "Apologize, Monty! Apologize at once!"

"To who, ya daft cracker!?" Montaron gasped, unsettled and still trying to wipe the feeling of freezing cold fingers from her skin. "Ain't no one-"

"You're terrible! You're terrible and I hate you, and I'm leaving! They smell much nicer than you anyway." And with that he picked up the hem of his robes as if it were a skirt, and ran after the two absent women (with at least one dramatic tripping over a stick in the middle). He was the first of the four to rejoin them.

Montaron stared after him, gaping, wiping condensation from his brow and trying to get proper air back in his lungs. He'd been caught out surprised by whatever dark thing wormed within that necromancer, and it had been a long time since last that had happened. He tried to piece together where he stood, what his options were, what he wanted to do. Then it dawned on him he was improperly packed up with both half elves nearby and absolutely zero protection from one of Jaheira's fucking root spells.

Okay. Both girls were unusually tolerant of the necromancer's madness for this part of the world. He'd lost sight of that somewhere along the way, forgotten how this wasn't a fecking country where you could just up and out yourself as a necromancer without inviting torches and pitchforks. Goofy twats with nice hair and softy upbringings, they oughtn't have been this forgiving to lowlifes like himself and things like Xzar. It didnt' make enough fecking sense, but he'd be a fool for not taking advantage of it. The girls weren't the hardiest things, but they'd held up well enough so far. They'd do. 

But why the hell was Xzar workin' that out first? Why was it him taking interest in them? Made Montaron's damn head hurt. "Cyric," he growled to himself, rubbing his face and then hurriedly packing up his gear. Maybe Xzar really did know something he didn't, and was just waiting for the right moment to strike. That made more sense than this did.

A rough cough came from nearby. He bristled, and slowly looked to see the two elves standing there, Jaheira in front. "Yeah?" he growled. "What?"

She did not say anything for a very long moment. Hnh. She wanted to preface this conversation with how badly she suspicioned him, but she knew if she started she would not be able to stop. Instead, she stiffly raised a hand. "Truce?" she asked.

Montaron stared at her in disbelief. He looked after where his wizard had fled to, then back at Jaheira. "What's yer game?" he growled.

Jaheira didn't trust herself to answer without bashing his face in or whipping out her nature magic, so she said nothing.

A long moment passed in hostile silence, but Montaron started to relax a little. He knew the elfin twat couldn't risk angering Aegis again, and Jaheira and Khalid didn't strike him as the best liars to kill him and catch up with her and sell the story he'd voluntarily gone his separate way.

This icy bint's old friend had died and his last request had been that she look after his kid. Well Aegis might have been willing to walk away, but Khalid and Jaheira clearly weren't. Maybe they'd behave. The more Montaron thought about it, the more relaxed he felt. He could leave at any time, as soon as Nashkel was fixed, or earlier. But the elves were stuck with Aegis and would have to follow certain rules to keep in her good favor.

After a moment the halfling smirked and spat into his palm. He stood, and held his hand out to shake. "Fine," he growled laughingly. "Truce."

Chapter Text

Once they had returned to Beregost for the night, Aegis learned what had become of her hatchet. Jaheria had put it aside, along with most of the affects looted from the dead dwarf.

"I'm surprised you didn't toss it," Aegis admitted, as she accepted the broken implement over their table at the tavern.

"In the midst of this crises," Jaheira explained her reasoning, "any 'old' steel that hasn't been recently reworked seems to hold up better. One can whittle a new handle in a day, seat the axe head, and have it as good as new."

"It l-looked s-sentimental," Khalid added, and he wasn't wrong. "Th-there were some carvings on the wood."

"A little bit," Aegis admitted. "Wasn't expecting it to give up on me like that. Was I not taking proper care of it?"

"The fault here was clearly not in your choice of oil or whetstone." Jaheira retorted, and then counted on her fingers: "Consider that you clove a helm, leather padding, and skull all open in a single strike. The handle appears to be made from Shilmistian Duskwood. A strong wood, yes, but it is still a small hatchet, made for collecting firewood and not the dispatching of heavily armored dwarves."

"Point taken." Aegis sighed, and gently tossed it back onto the table. "Better it than one of us."

Jaheira considered her for a moment. "I may be able to mend the wood. Eschewing the need for a new handle."

Aegis perked up. "Could you?"

They'd only just barely left the inn that morning when a vaguely familiar bard approached them. Imoen immediately remembered him as the traveling minstrel who'd been flirting with Aegis the evening they first arrived, and his name was Garrick.

He talked in a grand and overly dramatic way, as bards tended to do, and informed them that he was trying to contract out some defenders on behalf of a fair maiden named Silke. Although he initially sounded like he might be Silke's traveling accomplice, a quick set of questions revealed Garrick had only just found Silke the evening before, bemoaning a horrible fate she expected at the hands of three thugs.

Xzar made a gagging face. Montaron muttered something about Aegis trying to get laid. Jaheira looked impatient. Khalid suggested they might as well go take a look and talk to Silke, and Imoen pointed out they could at least find out how much money she was offering.

The answer ended up being: Four hundred gold. Four hundred gold to hang out for the better part of an hour in the warm sunlight and then chase off three 'ruffians.' It seemed like free money.

Then the men arrived looking like regular couriers. They attempted to greet Silke. Silke spoke loudly over their voices and commanded Aegis's party not to hear their 'lying words'.

Lying words, huh? Montaron, Jaheira, and Aegis had heard something. They'd heard the three men tell Silke they'd 'secured gems' for her.

Aegis turned around and looked the woman dead in the eyes. "How desperate do you think I am that a pouch of gold can make me deaf?" she asked. (Montaron might have muttered something to the contrary.) "Pay them."

Silke's face turned from one of red-faced surprise to one of purple rage. She bristled up in shaking anger and then suddenly her hands starting to go through the somatic motions of a spell. "If I must do it myself," she spat, "then you can join them!"

That was surprising. Why did a person who didn't think she could kill three common men think she could kill three common men and an adventuring troupe of six additional people? Hard to say.

Jaheira readied her staff and Montaron drew out his blade. Aegis plopped a hand on her hip, shook her head, and asked boredly, "You're not very observant, are you?" 

The woman looked at her in entirely undeserved disgust, summoning up in one hand what an alarmed Imoen realized might very well be a potent lightning spell as bystanders hollered to one another and scrambled to get out of the way. With the other hand, Silke showed them all an unstoppered vial and declared, "This is going to make you regret your betrayal!" 

With that she downed the vial, disappeared into thin air, and immediately revealed herself to merely be invisible by throwing the vial to the ground where it shattered.

"I stationed my wizard behind you."

The outline of the woman became just barely visible again as blue glowing fingers wrapped about her throat. A visibly delighted Xzar throttled the life out of her. Her spell fizzled. Civilians and part members watched somewhat morbidly as it dawned on each of them in staggered order that the danger had passed.

When the Necromancer was done and Silke was again visible, her eyes had contracted slightly back into her skull and her skin of her face was drawn and glassy from having all the water and blood frozen within it. With an ear-to-ear smile Xzar waited for any hint of breath and then released her and gave her body an unceremonious push. There was an audible cracking noise as something about her face shattered on contact with the cobblestone.

"Did she... just try to kill us?" whispered one of the gem-purveyors?

"She deceived me," Garrick whimpered in realization.

"She tried to kill all of us!" another of the gem-purveyors exclaimed. "The hell? The hell? Has the whole coast gone to the dogs? She seemed perfectly sweet and reasonable when we were negotiating the contract!"

"Ill intent is not always clearly visible from the outside," Jaheira answered, and then turned to try and reassure the populace the danger had been dealt with (and perhaps, more importantly, that the right person had been killed).

Xzar, who'd been looming over the corpse, looked from their druid, to the bard, and the men. He looked at Montaron and finally to Aegis, who nodded in an effort to convey he'd done exactly what she'd hoped he would. She came up to him and had a gander at Silke's remains. "I hate to tell you this, given that you probably just saved us from being hit by lightning," she told him quietly, "but... you can't have any of her body parts. At least not while we're in public surrounded by witnesses."

Xzar fidgeted. "The chill damaged them anyway," he decided at last.

Aegis turned to see that Garrick was coming up to her. The first question on her tongue was: "You were a friend of hers?"

"I... I just wished to aid a soul in need," the bard said slowly. Then he stood up straighter. "Knowingly or not I played accomplice to this woman. And then I just stood by and watched it happen! I put you and your friends in danger, and I should repay you for my error. Therefore... I am at your service!" He gave a tremendous bow, almost all the way to the point his hair was tickling the earth.

The ranger blinked "Erm... You... really don't have to do that..."

"I do it with joy, ma'am!" he said on straightening up. "It seems you are an honorable person!"

Xzar made a face and asked at a loud whisper, "Can I have his body parts?" 

"I think there might be something wrong with your wizard," their recently recruited bard pointed out, detaching from his hair the sticky black gooey thing Xzar had just pitched at him. He grimaced in distaste.

"Might be?" at least three of the party members asked, and Montaron was laughing when he added:

"Aye, well we ain't exactly be swimmin' in wizards now, eh?"

The party was resting enroute to Nashkel, and a few members were injured.

"It's ruined! They're all ruined, they cooked wrong, all bad-wrong-bad-wrong-bad-blag-drong- BLECK." Xzar dropped to the ground in a huff and plopped his chin on his hand, nearly steaming with frustrated disappointment. Jaheira rubbed her brow and murmured a prayer in Elfish for patience with fools and monsters; and perhaps—Aegis didn't quite hear clearly—for better wisdom to be granted to Gorion's ward. She was currently tending to Imoen's broken ankle.

Aegis sighed and came up beside the bard—Garrick—with a cloth soaked in water. He took it thankfully. "Why did he just do that? I don't know what I did to deserve that."

Montaron snorted. "Ya ask too many questions. No one knows what goes through that blasted skull of his. Least of all the wizard himself!"

Aegis next approached Xzar.

"Hey," she told their wizard. He kept seething at the ground "Xzar? Xzar." He looked up at her at last, pale green eyes pouting. "No more throwing things." The necromancer frowned at her for a long moment before looking back to the ground and making a depressed noise of affirmation. She patted his shoulder and walked off.

Aegis made sure to dispose of the mushy black ooky thing that Xzar had been flinging around before returning to the fire to peen her weapons. She'd taken up the battleaxe from the deceased dwarf as her new primary weapon, but was still getting a feel for its weight. More importantly, Jaheira had been successful in mending the handle of her hatchet. That would be staying with her, as both a camp tool and reliable backup.

"I c-couldn't help but notice that hatcher is actually a rather f-fine i-instrument," Khalid noted, as she treated it with lindseed. "Although of c-curious make. Simple... b-but almost..." he trained off thoughtfully. Aegis smiled at him.

"I've had it for a long time," she explained, "and it came from outside the keep. That's when I realized I wanted to be a ranger, actually."

Imoen laughed from where she was being tended to. "I remember that! Hehe, you were driving Ulraunt bonkers. He hated that we lived there at all, much less that we'd go about pestering guests."

"What's this story, then?" Jaheira asked, sounding curious despite herself. Could she somehow tell where it had come from? She'd remarked on the wood...

"There was a ranger that came to Candlekeep," Aegis elaborated. "Well he didn't come in the traditional sense. Normally we'd see adventurers running errands for noblemen, or noblemen themselves, or wizards, scholars, scribes, bibliophiles, clerics, and sorcerers. We have a very strict policy about who can enter our walls. They must contribute expensive books to the library." Aegis sighed. "Like... Even now? Me and Imoen wouldn't be able to get back in."

"So what about the ranger?" Garrick asked, leaning forward curiously. "Did he bring some rare volume?"

"No. He was nearly dead when he collapsed outside our walls. He had arrows in his shoulder and he was torn up from head to toe..."

[Past]

"Ye gotta let him in," Winthrop, the tavern keeper insisted emphatically. "He'll die out there! Hells, will you bring his corpse in?"

"We have rules," Ulraunt sniffed haughtily. From their place in the shadow, Imoen made a face. Aegis was peering out through the porthole down outside the outer wall. Outside, a man was sitting before the gates, almost as if in meditation, watching them from beneath his frayed hood. He was coated in blood, and had only sat down when his weaving betrayed he could no longer stand. He somehow still managed to strike a very composed figure. Aegis thought, as she looked at him, that he was very close to death; and that will alone kept him upright.

"If you start smiling," Immy warned. "When old smelly Ulraunt is already being so terrible..."

"I'm not," Aegis promised, watching the man with great interest.

"I can't look" Imoen mumbled unhappily. "Is he dead?"

"No. And he won't die. Not this time."

"I will provide the book to secure his entrance," Gorion was saying, "if the hundreds of others I have provided are insufficient."

"Those tomes," Ulraunt reminded him, "paid for something else entirely. Something my predecessor-"

"Let him in," begged the priest of Oghma who ran the citadel's clinic, who oversaw many very difficult operations on a wide variety of guests each day, but who rarely was faced with such a life-or-death situation as this. "No man or elf deserves to die like this, a wall away from help." Beside him, Tethtoril, whom Imoen and Aegis liked much more than Ulraunt, agreed with them: Bring him in.

Ulraunt took stock of them all. In a rare display, his face softened slightly and he nodded. They sent the guards out to help the man up and then quickly brought him inside. He limped between them, one arm over each shoulder, silent and resolution.

Aegis and Imoen scrambled out of their hiding place so as not be caught. Imoen went to ask Winthrop what would happen to the man. Aegis snuck into the surgery while the nurses were running in and out. She watched as the pulled the arrows from the man's shoulder. They stripped off his damaged clothing piece by piece, using healing spells to keep him alive and then stitching up the wounds that refused to seal. He was an elf, she realized then. The pointed ears were enough, even without the sharp planes of his face.

A nurse had found her and chased her out.

The elf lived. Ulraunt wanted to cast him out as soon as he could walk, but the other monks begged and bartered with him, and at last it was determined he could stay for a season. For a time they kept him at the surgery; then later they put him up in the tavern. Aegis continued to ask Gorion about him, but the old man would always deflect the topic. Frustrated, Aegis 'forced' Imoen to let her help with the chores, just so she could get a glimpse or two of the elf.

He seemed to notice when she was watching. He had many weapons on him- a bow that was whole and another that was shattered; a sword at his belt, and lastly an old hunting axe; a utilitarian tool and nothing more, for splitting wood and dressing deer meat. Aegis had tried talking to him, but he had not responded, and Withrop had chased her out and forbidden her from bothering him any longer.

Afterwards, Imoen would tell her that the elf refused to speak to anyone. Aegis asked Gorion to tell her stories about men and women who made the forest their home, but surprisingly Gorion refused her request and asked her to get her mind off their guest.

The whole situation was incredibly frustrating; Aegis didn't know why but something about the man felt... more than interesting. Significant, although she would not use that word later when telling the story to anyone. It was as if he existed in some kind of waking death; that something dark followed him like a cloud, a scent. Only much later would Gorion explain that the elf had lost his soul mate, his second half, and that he would be incomplete forever after. But she hadn't known that then.

Sometimes—though rarely—the ranger would come out of the tavern. He would walk the gardens with his hood up and his face hidden, observing the plants and trees as if he found them strange instead of comforting. Most of the time Aegis would be with Gorion, and Gorion would sternly tell her not to 'bother' the man. This was frustrating. She remembered feeling some small resentment. She knew the man seemed to notice her, to see her; and she was overwhelmingly curious about him in return.

Then one day she'd been playing out on her own, and Imoen had been doing extra chores for placing a piece of stinky cheese in a noble's bedroom, and she'd seen the elf. He'd been sitting under a tree, and—to her surprise—doing a little bit of magic to mend an injured bird. Aegis had never before heard of such a thing. Since when did men with bows and swords do magic? That was a book-readers thing.

She watched as quietly and unobtrusively as she could. He'd noticed her, she knew, but he didn't say anything. A long minute passed in silence. Then he lifted a hand, and silently beckoned her forward.

She, of course, immediately obeyed. When she joined his side, she saw that the little bird's neck had been mended but one of it's wings was still lying at a very peculiar angle. The elf gestured for her to come closer and closer until she was within arm's reach, and then he took her hands in his and made her hold the bird carefully as he went through the process of setting and then healing it's tiny wing.

It took a long time for the healing to complete. As Aegis would learn later, rangers were no skilled magic users like druids or clerics. But in the end the bird had righted itself and flown off into the sky.

Aegis had let out a very un-lady-like curse word when she heard her father calling. The elf shooed her off. She bit her lip and ran unhappily to the citadel.

The next day, the ranger left Candlekeep without warning, as silently and mysteriously as he'd came. He'd left almost no trace of his presence. Aegis had been furious. Her mystified father had watched her play angrily by breaking stones against one another and kicking over clumps of grass, no doubt confused as to the source of her frustration. Moments later her anger vanished. She ran up to a nearby tree—the tree she'd helped heal the bird at the day before—and found a little present waiting for her: It was the ranger's axe, just as she'd seen it in those very first days. Unremarkable, unadorned, but elfin-made.

And perhaps Gorion had realized how badly he'd misinterpreted Aegis's interest in the elf, when she ran up to him moments later proclaiming she wanted to be a ranger.

[Present]

"Oh PLEASE, you are GORGING my sweet tooth," Xzar moaned unhappily.

"Splendid story!" Garrick disagreed sunnily, "I always say: Make short the miles with talk and smiles!"

Xzar nearly died gagging. The story hadn't interested Montaron much to begin with, so he'd tuned the majority of it out and left it to the enjoyment of others, but Garrick's disposition had him grumbling something like "Ye goodie-goodies make me sick..."

"That does explain the wood and make," Jaheira mused; in the end it had required no blacksmith to fix, and no new handle; only a tight vice of leather wraps to compress it and keep it in the desired shape, and the ministrations of a careful druid. "By description I imagine this was a wild elf, perhaps out of Shillmista. A very reclusive people; so much so it's unusual to hear of them asking for help at stone settlements.""

"Yeah. You're right its a little small for a primary weapon," Aegis agreed, shooting an amused glance over at Xzar, and passing the hatchet to Khalid who was indicating he'd like to inspect its handiwork. There were only a few embellishments to suggest an elfin maker. "How's your foot, Immy?"

"It's fine! Jaheira's a really good healer!"

"Blahhh!" Xzar said with his tongue out and then flopped dramatically onto his pack.

"Could we perhaps go back and leave him in Beregost before proceeding on to Nashkel?" Garrick suggested.

"Ho, I wish," Montaron grumbled lovelessly, and Xzar bristled at the both of them. 

"We will not get much farther today but we should pack up and continue while we can," Jaheira noted. "And we should get away from the road. We are too much out in the open and a prime target for the same sort of fodder we disposed of yesterday."

Xzar had to be coaxed to follow them. By Aegis, naturally.

They made a small fire and then organized the night watch in groups of two, Khalid and Garrick, Aegis and Montaron, and Jaheira and Imoen. Then they laid out their sleeping rolls around the fire. Aegis plopped her gear down first, eager to get some shut eye before the disruptive second watch. Jaheira settled down on her right side to begin praying or meditating or whatever exactly it was Druids did.

For a moment there was naught but the shuffles of setting up a camp. Then something happened to make Montaron laugh. "Hoping to get some?"

He'd been addressing Garrick, who had—likely with no ulterior motives to speak of—placed his roll down at Aegis's left. The young man took the lewd comment, gave Aegis a blush in an effort to communicate he meant no foul, and did say," Love makes the world go round!" likely in an effort to show Montaron couldn't 'get' to him.

Xzar, apparently, had had enough of sickeningly sweet prattle. He even said so, shouting quite suddenly: "That. Is. ENOUGH!" The majority of the party members were used to Xzar randomly hollering nonsense at times, but he was still dangerous enough that they glanced up to see what had disturbed him. They observed that Xzar had dropped his things on the ground and stalked directly up to confront Garrick. "Stop stop STOP stop STOP!"

Garrick was not having any of that: "Whatever's got in to you now, good sir?" he asked, not sure he wanted to know. Aegis, who had only gotten halfway into taking off arms and armor, sank into a facepalm on the realization sleep might be a little farther out than she was hoping. Montaron muttered something about the wizard having his skirts in a wad but he was grinning to himself; Imoen screwed up her face in slightly weirded-out amusement. Jaheira could be heard to sigh heavily.

If Jaheira had been asked to 'politely' summarize the situation, Aegis imagine she'd have said something like this: Xzar had been 'misbehaving' since Garrick joined the party. And now? Now he was approaching him with a look of utterly disgusted loathing.

"That is MINE!" declared their wizard.

Aegis glanced back up at the necromancer from beneath her splayed fingertips.

"What do you refer to?" their new bard inquired.

"That ground!"

Garrick glanced downward. "I beg your pardon?"

"Beg all you want, I shall not give it to you! That ground is mine- all of it! You must vacate the premises at once! Your dirty, terrible, musical fae-sparkles have gotten all over it! And I won't stand for it any longer! I'll call the guard I will!"

Garrick stared at their wizard numbly for a moment, then look slowly around at the rest of the party as if asking for backup. "Um...?"

Imoen burst out laughing at his helpless expression and covered her face. Khalid shook his head helplessly. 

"Listen: Best give him what he wants so he stops shouting," the halfling advised with a cruel wink. "And sleep with one eye open, 'ncase he tries to bottle some o' dem 'music sparkles.' "

Garrick made a face, realized no one saner than Xzar wanted to argue with Xzar, and then looked to Aegis as if to make sure she was alright with wizards coveting the dirt on her left-hand side, or whether she might need a brave man to stand up for her. Aegis gave a shooing wave, and started to pull off her chain shirt. "It's fine," she reassured him. "The wizard doesn't bother me."

"No, he almost seems to behave for her sometimes," Imoen chirped wryly.

"Lies!" Xzar proclaimed, then hissed and spit at Garrick until the man had rolled his sleeping back back up and gone to put it elsewhere. Satisfied, Xzar knelt and made a little dirt castle where Garrick had been, took out a cloth, drew an 'X' on it, tied it to a twig, and then planted it into the castle like a flag. "There! now my claim will never be mistaken again," he cooed happily. "What do you think, Monty?"

"I think yer insane," the halfling responded, and he was glad he now had an entire party to buffer the wizard's ramblings with instead of being forced to take them all onto himself.

"Fools! Those whom the gods wish to destroy they first make mad! MAD! Uaahahahahahaaeheheehuaaahh- Ah, But they won't get me! UAHAHAHAH!"

In the mean time, Garrick had gotten himself settled elsewhere and brought out his lute. He was tuning it now, as Aegis and the others tried to get some sleep, and had begun to play the first low, soothing notes of a ballad, a love song. The sound was very restful to almost all who heard it, but it seemed to prick the hairs up on the back of Xzar's neck. He turned around like a venomous serpent. Aegis noted. Before he could run off claiming any more land for Xzartania, she sat back up, grabbed him by the collar and yanked him back to the ground. Xzar tumbled with a squeak.

"Put out your sleeping roll," Aegis scolded him gently. "And calm down, the bard isn't a threat."

"He was trying to steal my spellbook!" the wizard offered false testimony

"Xzar, I need to sleep." She told him, and then got the rest of her way into her bedroll and tried to make herself comfortable. "Stay where you're at.

Xzar made an unhappy nose in the back his throat. He laid where he had fallen for a moment, and seemed to consider his options on what to do next. Then he looked back at her and made a low purring sound in the depths of his throat. He sidled a little further onto her bedroll and pushed up against her.

"I don't want my bedroll," he rumbled in a soft and almost predatory voice, "I want yours..."

Imoen heard that. She propped herself up on one arm and made the most disturbed face Aegis had ever seen. "What?" Imoen demanded. Aegis couldn't help but crack up laughing; Imoen looked like she'd just eaten the most sour food humanly imaginable. Xzar pouted. Appeased by his unhappy expression, Imoen's disgusted face turned into one of amusement.

"Sorry Xzar, I think she's sparkled in it," Pink teased, and that got her plenty of more laughter from Aegis. Xzar still look discontent, so Imoen raised her voice and called, "But I'm sure Monty'll snuggle you if you'd like!"

"Imma cut yer mouth out, girly," came an irritated grumble from across the fire. Xzar looked equally horrified. Imoen, snickering to herself, flopped back down to sleep.

"Night sis," she called softly.

"Same."

Xzar grumpily got to his knees and then pulled his sleeping roll into position. He crushed his dirt castle and then proceeded to turn his sleeping mat every which direction that was humanly imaginable. By this point the bard's soothing ballad was clearly starting to get to him. He shot a displeased glance in Khalid's direction, likely knowing the elf would prevent him from strangling Garrick and wondering if perhaps he had enough spells to silence them both.

Then he apparently noticed Aegis couldn't sleep; she had opened her eyes again and was watching the stars.

Xzar tilted his head to the side and recalled the conversation he'd had with her in Beregost. He looked down at his crumpled mat and dirty bedroll and then got on his hands and knees and crawled back over to Aegis. Her attention shifted to him as he leaned over her. A moment passed in silence. Then at last he told her, very, very quietly, "I can share."

She took a bit to answer, and had a bit of a wry lilt to her voice when she did: "Wouldn't that involve touching?" Xzar considered this for a moment, and then shuffled even closer.

"I'm not sure I mind touching you. Too much."

A sizable part of his mind did know his request was both nonsense and unreasonable; he was a very strange, eccentric, and entirely abnormal older man she'd met scarcely weeks before, and she was a much younger unattached woman.

An equally valid part of his mind had simply decided to ask anyway.

And the rest of his mind was busy naming her hairs. Let's see, Kali, Thanatos, Azrael, Morana, Sue, Anput, Abaddon, Osirus, Clyde...

When she abruptly sidled over and lifted up the side of her blankets, he had already forgotten what they were talking about. She looked as perplexed as he felt. Hmm. Perhaps... Dangerous? Safe? Lethal?

Foolishly, but suddenly a little ravenous, he pushed his way under the covers and then winced when he realized just how warm and alive she was, and just how much of him was already touching her. Her pulse was simultaneously exciting and unsettling; and he couldn't decide if either was because he wanted to dig into those veins himself, or because at any moment he expected her to dig into his. Then he realized the bard's song was driving him absolutely insane and he couldn't remember having wanted to kill any man so badly in his life. Not that he was thinking particularly far back... Memory had a way of becoming fleeting at times... There was that one time, he recalled now... Ooh, and then back when...

Aegis watched his facial expression. Xzar did not lay down; he fidgeted on hands and knees, clearly uncomfortable with being in such close proximity to another person. After a moment, she realized he wasn't calming down, and so lifted her arms up to encircle his body and attempted to pull him down against her chest. To her great fortune, he neither resisted nor shrieked.

Pinned against her with his chin digging into her sternum, Xzar wriggled for a moment more before settling down and making a pleased hum in the back of his throat. "You smell like basil and chamomile," the madman noted contently, bard song forgotten, tucking his face into the curve of her collarbone. "Chamomile is good for the stomach, you know."

Aegis made a noise of acknowledgement and closed her eyes, wrapping both arms more comfortably about him. She hoped Khalid would be kind enough to rouse her before Montaron for the second watch. But then she supposed Jaheira would hear one way or another.

Enough thinking about the morning; Maybe this way she could get that sleep she needed.

Chapter Text

When daylight forced Aegis into wakefulness, she blinked several times and then gazed upward in confusion at the steadily brightening sky. Something... was not quite right. She oughtn't be waking up naturally.

Someone... someone ought to have woken her up so she could take her watch. Why hadn't anyone roused her? As the seconds ticked by, she became more and more aware of the weight on top of her, and the disheveled hair tickling her cheek.

Uh oh. Did the silent change in watch schedule have anything to do with...?

Aegis heard footsteps, and then a pink clad girl appeared above her. Oh sweet Oghma. I am sorry I kept secrets. So sorry. So, so, so-

Imoen scratched her head. "Sooo..." she drawled slowly, unknowingly mimicking the word Aegis was repeating ad nauseum in her mind.

-so, so, so sorry...

"Why... exactly... is...?" Imoen hazarded and gestured downward, waiting for Aegis to jump in and explain.

Aegis could... try and cover this up, say that Xzar had insisted on occupying her bedroll and she didn't want to set him shrieking. But then no doubt Oghma, god of knowledge and hater of deceit, would become very cross with her, and the amount of trouble she was in would escalate accordingly. Even so, there was a problem with telling the truth: Aegis didn't precisely know what the truth was.

"Hellooo? You awake?"

"He's warm," Aegis muttered.

"So's the bard, I'd wager." Imoen the Pink seemed quite bewildered.

"Yes," Aegis allowed. "But despite multiple individuals' best efforts, yours included, I didn't wake up naked on top of the bard in Beregost."

"Pity, that. Wait, what?"

"So... when I was heading out of the bedroom and you casually mentioned you'd been forced to sleep with Montaron it took a second or two for-"

"Eeewww!" Imoen wailed as quietly as she could manage. It wasn't clear whether the idea of Aegis and Xzar or herself and Montaron grossed her out more. "How did-? Why did-?"

Aegis shook her head, not knowing. "I guess I got a thing for wizards." That might make a bit of sense.

"He's not just any wizard! He's-! He's Xzar! He's crazy!"

"Yeah," Aegis had no counterargument; Imoen spoke true. "He is."

"I'm not sure that's a taste in wizard that's good for your health! Not that- not that you can't do whatever you want to do. Um. Huh. Whatever floats your boat? I guess?"

Aw. She was trying to be supportive, like a good sister. Yeah, the two of them were going to end up having a really weird conversation once Imoen got her behind closed doors in Nashkel, that was for certain. No more secrets. Not from her own sister.

"Gonna be hard keeping Jaheira off your back on that count, but nothing new there." Imoen scratched the back of her head. "I always though you liked stoic mysterious warrior types, though."

Apparently one's preference in storybook heroes did not directly correlate with one's real-world preferences in bedmate. Or maybe Aegis was gunning to become a stoic mysterious warrior type, instead of date one. She gave a helpless slowly shrug of her shoulders, shook her head, and then said, "I'm going to try and wake him up. Cover your ears, the probability that he remembers how he got into this position is low."

The entire party shot her odd looks for the rest of the trip south.

Well, except for Xzar himself. He was oblivious to all the attention she was receiving, and instead spent the time eagerly awaiting the times the bard would play his lyre; he would then burst into songs about alchemy that involved enumerating eye of newt and wing of bat. This experience appeared to be quite unsetting for the bard, who after a day no longer had the heart to touch his instrument.

Jahiera didn't say anything to Aegis about Xzar, although she clearly brooded something foul.

Montaron kept making disgusted faces.

Khalid sighed a lot.

Goodness it was like she'd killed someone or contracted some terrible disease; all she'd done was wake up with another party member curled up on top of her. A party member everyone knew or at least strongly suspected to be a necromancer. A party member who talked to himself in multiple vocal registers, and often got lost rambling incoherently about rabbits.

Alright. Xzar was crazy. Perhaps her willingness to entertain his company meant that Aegis was also crazy. But Xzar curled up beside her the next day as well as if he already belonged there, and she wasn't about to stop him.

The group passed into Amnish territory without too much of a fuss; and nothing they met jeopardized the party to such an extent as the ogre had. Still, by the time they reached Nashkel they were simultaneously exhausted from the road and eager to get their hands dirty with more serious work. As they headed for the tavern, with Aegis already happily anticipating her first pint, the party necromancer suddenly reached out, grabbed her shoulder, and pulled her to a halt.

"I don't quite know if we should go in there," he cooed airily.

Montaron sniffed at the physical contact between the two of them, as if mildly disturbed by it. "The hell ye on about now, wizard?"

Xzar sneered. "If you haven't noticed, insipid little toooaaad, our valiant leader has been building a terrible track record with inn patrons."

"The hell ye talking about, she's one o' the inn's best patrons and- ah." Montaron paused. The rest of the party slowed and turned to one another as they (sans Garrick) came to the same realization: Aegis had been ambushed in or around an inn in each major location she'd visited.

"We should be careful not to look too defensive on entry," Jaheira decided. "If there are problems, we want to flush them out now."

Montaron nodded, agreeing despite his personal grievances with Jaheira. "I'll head in first," he decided, "get a look at them backsides."

"I'm with ya!" Imoen agreed, bounding after him. The rest of the group explained the general state of their problem to Garrick before entering a few minutes later. Khalid and Jahiera entered next, with the aim of using entanglements and shields to keep would-be assassins from Aegis. Garrick planned to keep off to the side, as he was little direct use in a fight. He tuned his lute.

Aegis felt slightly uncomfortable with all this. Were all these preparations just a bit excessive? Maybe not. She'd nearly been bombarded to death by a mage and split in half by a dwarf. She glanced behind her.

Xzar, the only individual no one else had attempted to position or plan for, was hovering just behind her with his hand still lightly on her elbow. He gave a knowing smile. Xzar's best spells all seemed to be touch spells. He was always going to be most useful as close to the action as possible. 

Aegis took a deep breath, and headed in.

She'd crossed the threshold of the inn no more than a hundred and twenty seconds when a surly woman with a viperous accent sauntered up to her. After the woman stated her name (Neira) and business and distressed the entire tavern, she was summarily buried underneath a dirk, an entangle spell, a tower shield, two arrows, and a nasty, green leech of energy.

Khalid ultimately hemmed the would-be-assassin down into the floor with his shield. She put two huge dents in the metal, ripped the arrows out of her shoulder and stabbed Jahiera in the thigh with them. Montaron wrestled her into a headlock and ultimately pulled his blade through her neck.

Aegis stood inactive in the doorway, head cocked to the side.  

Amnish soldiers rushed in, elbowing roughly past Aegis and Xzar. They threw Khalid off of the woman, pulled her off the ground, and healed her just enough to save her life. When she threw herself screaming in Jahiera's direction they dragged her kicking and choking (given that Montaron had wrecked havoc on her airways) through the streets. The druid snorted and then looked up as two guards approached her, their faces grim.

Aegis watched the conversation unfold, but realized it was unnecessary for her to intervene. The guards were slightly hostile in demeanor towards Jahiera at first (And as it was Jahiera, she was none-too-polite back), but Khalid interrupted and his helpless stuttering was enough to convince them that the party was blameless in the matter.

Montaron growled to himself and then stomped up to Aegis. He held a piece of parchment up to her, which she took and quickly unrolled it. It was a bounty notice. Montaron must have pulled it off the woman while the guards were apprehending her.

"Told ya it'd go up," the halfling rumbled. He glanced at Xzar. Aegis didn't see it, but the necromancer shook his head vehemently, and in return the halfling sneered, disgusted, and went to get himself an ale. She watched him go and sighed to herself.

"Why am I worth this?" she wondered.

"You're very special," the necromancer cooed nasally beside her ear.

"Apparently," she grumbled. "I am."

The inn had commoner rooms with two bunks each; the group split up into Team Elf, Team Unsavory, and Team Candlekeep (Imoen was trying to refer to them as 'Team Girlpower' but Aegis was having none of that). Garrick, who was largely broke, elected to steal the floor in Khalid and Jaheira's room.

The night went by uneventfully with no assassins sneaking in through the room's windows.

Aegis did not sleep especially well, even with Imoen nearby. She laid awake hours after she ought to have drifted away, and wondered if it would be selfish to wake Imoen up and ask to share a bunk.

The feeling of another person, nearby, might have helped.

("Are you going to throw things at me too?" "No.")

In the morning, they became acquainted with the Nashkel general store manager, who mentioned to them that he was interested in wolf pelts. Any wolf pelts, really, including dire wolf and red wolf, but of especial interest to him were winter wolf pelts, if the party thought they could take such a creature down..

("How about now?" "No." "How about now?" "No." "How about now?" "No.")

They stopped to view a bounty board, and concluded that there were even more odd jobs to do around Nashkel than around Beregost. Imoen noted, "There sure is a lot of trouble going on 'round these parts." And that raised the question of whether they ought to prepare themselves before heading into the minds, and, if so, what they needed to buy.

("How about now?" "No." "How about now?" "No." "How about now?" "No.")

"Much of this trouble is connected to the problems in the mines," Jaheira exposited. "The region's bandit activity, for example, is spiking because of the iron shortage. We spoke to some of the men who left the Nashkel mines and are now attempting to make their living as farmers or fishermen."

("How about now?" "No." "How about now?" "No." "How about now?" "No.")

"N'what do they have to say?" Montaron prodded, curious despite where this information was coming from.

("How about now?" "No." "How about now?" "No." "How about now?" "No.")

"They talk of demons in the mines, and comment that no one has been to the deepest levels in months. Apparently something dark is down there, and it is not only making mining difficult but also murdering stray miners. A significant number of men have gone 'missing' in the depths."

("How about now?" "No." "How about now?" "No." "How about now?" "No.")

"Oooh, that sounds delightful!" Xzar cooed. "Are you scared, hmm, elfy? Worried about things that might go bump in the dark?"

("How about now?" "No." "How about now?" "No." "How about now?" "No.")

Jaheira eyed the necromancer with nostrils flared and barely reigned contempt. "We may wish to add another capable fighter or healer to our group," she allowed at last, looking to Aegis. "And we would not be remiss to better our gear. A magical weapon, reinforced against the plague, might be the difference between life and death in those narrow tunnels."

("How about now?" "No." "How about now?" "No." "How about now?" "No.")

Imoen wrinkled her nose and then gave a dramatic eyeroll; Jaheira had been complaining about their rate of travel from the moment they first picked her up at the Friendly Arm. Now suddenly she was the one advocating they go slow and distract themselves. 

"Wow, I've run out of things to say!"

The rest of the group staggered and turned in surprise to where Garrick and a strange villager who went by the name of Noober had been talking. Noober had walked up to the group around an hour ago and had begun rambling nonstop. 

Before Xzar or Montaron could murder the poor imbecile, Aegis had pushed Garrick forward to handle the situation, and asked the rest of the group to walk apart from them and ignore him. When it seemed he had run out of creative lines he had resorted to asking 'how about now?' over and over and over again. No one (except maybe Garrick) had been paying enough attention to even know the context of the question.

As they'd walked through the town, Montaron had glanced back that way a few times, but Imoen had interrupted him with silver pieces and sharp shakes of the head.

And now, apparently, it was over?

"You guys are aaalllriggghtt!" Noober gushed, and then he turned and skipped back off into the town. Garrick watched puzzled as he went, and then turned to the rest of the group and observed cheerfully:

"What a curious fellow! What all were we talking about then?"

Xzar, aghast, leaned near Aegis and whispered sadly, "I was hoping they would kill each-other through slow intellectual drain. I could try and finish off the process you know, it would only take a few chickens and a bit of moss."

Jaheira sighed and put a hand over her face. "Save us all from madmen, fools, and wizards-" she grumbled. "I've already had enough insanity for one day and it is scarcely the ninth hour yet."

Her words must have been a summons or a curse. Just then, the party was accosted by a large bald man with a violet tattoo over the side of his face. "Stand and deliver!" he shouted, thrusting a furry orange rodent into Aegis's face. "That my hamster might have a better look at you!"

Chapter Text

Gnolls were awful.

They were lanky, agile, hyena-headed things that towered head and shoulders above Aegis and smacked her left and right with the business ends of halberds. She and Khalid held the line for their team, relying on other members to expose weaknesses or take them down through finesse.

Montaron would sneak behind them to hamstring them if he managed to go in noticed, Imoen would pepper them with arrows that seemed to irritate more than they harmes, Jaheira would attempt to ensnare them in place with vine spells so Aegis or Khalid could finish them off, and Xzar was testing out an assortment of what appeared to be a variety of closely related life drain spells;  this was because there was no chance he could get close enough to the gnolls to use one of his Chill Touch spells without being speared or hacked in half.

The going was slow, or would have been, had the party been left alone to slowly chew through the incredible physical stamina of far too many dog men. But instead? Instead, they had Minsc. And Minsc was amazing.

"Butt-kicking, for goodness!" hollered the tattooed barbarian man, as he lept off of a nearby cliff-face and dove straight into rows of Halberds that should have been the death of him. With a two-handed claymore clutched in both hands, he sliced off pole-arm tips as if they were little more than tulip heads, and then split an ugly hyena snout in twain; sending half a skull full of brains wiggling off unpleasantly in each direction.

Khalid joked to Aegis, "I-I think w-we've found a v-valuable ad-dition to our g-group." She laughed.

"He's another round of crazy," she agreed. "I guess he fits right in! Come on, let's get him out of there before he suffers another head injury."

"Right b-behind you!" he agreed, as somewhere in all the melee, Boo chattered a warcry.

Their whole afternoon had just been spent in pursuit of a cat.

They'd carefully lowered Imoen to the bottom of a waterfall in an effort to retrieve said cat. Montaron was irritated they didn't just rob the girl who'd 'hired' them to do the job ("What's she going to do, tattle to the gnolls?!"). Imoen's 'here kitty kitty kitty's were just barely audible over the rush of water, and Aegis was a little tense to be separated from her.

The cat didn't seem to want to be found. Imoen poked around down there for quite awhile. Aegis called for and sent down Urso to help. Jaheira was just about to suggest she be sent down next, when suddenly they heard a loud, "Oh no. Oh dammit. Ae? Urso found it."

Aegis and Minsc hoisted Imoen back up the waterfall. Imoen arrived with Urso on her shoulder... and holding the very dead body of a very wet cat.

"Ah," said Jaheira on behalf of them all, as none of them had realized from the young girl's description that the cat must have been swept down the waterfall.

"Oh!" Xzar had an entirely different reaction, and immediately attempted to take the body. Aegis intercepted him, shooed him off, and dutifully transported the deceased feline back to its owner.

She did not accept the little girl's gold. 

And now Aegis had multiple people irritable or sulking in the back of her party for an assortment of loosely related reasons: Montaron, for not accepting payment, Jaheira for wasting time, Imoen who was trying to mask the fact she was depressed about the dead cat by pretending she was mad about not getting paid, and lastly Xzar, who had apparently very much wanted the cat body.

"That was very heroic!" said Minsc to Aegis, supportively. "I can tell I have found the right party of butt-kickers! It would have been dangerous to trust this rescue to just anyone."

Aegis wasn't certain if he meant the cat or Minsc's own personal quest, and decided both were equally possible.

Minsc had recruited them to rescue a woman named Dynaheir, whom Minsc claimed had been kidnapped by gnolls. Minsc wasn't being exceptionally clear or detailed in his explanation, but from what Aegis had gathered the two of them had been on a journey to the Sword Coast together, and it sounded like Minsc had been Dynaheir's protector. Why the two of them had come to Naskhel in specific was unclear. Might it have somethin to do with investigating the Iron Crisis?

Jaheir had given Aegis a knowing look, and the implication of at least tentative approval: They'd been talking about needing another fighter, and here one was. 

So, three exhausting days and oceans of hyena slobber later, and the group found themselves standing over the crenellations of an aged and weathered brownstone fortress amid dozens of gnoll corpses. The hour was late, and they were admittedly somewhat exhausted.

"She must be here somewhere," Minsc thundered, looking about with concern etched in his features. "Minsc's witch must not have perished so!"

"These dogs eat their food live soon after they've hunted it," Montaron disagreed. "We haven't seen hide nor hair of her, least ways not that we could identify. Might have looked different coming out the other end!"

Misnc frowned more intensely. Aegis gave Montaron a dirty look and Minsc a sympathetic shoulder pat. Over the past three days, the tattooed barbarian man had been filled with optimism and violence (or 'butt-kicking,' as the term might be), and never evidenced any sign of concern or fear. He wore both openly now. He was not a man to hide his feelings.

"Can you manage nothing constructive?" Jaheira asked Monatron sharply, but an entirely different member responded:

"Well that funny Gnoll bloke on the road said he'd been exiled for trying to harm her," Garrick chipped in, strumming a few hopeful chords on his instrument. "We really should keep looking; we've come all the way here, and driven them all out! No sense giving up now, right?"

Xzar had been much too absorbed in all the killing and mayhem ("I have become death, destroyer of worlds!") to stop their bard from playing; and Garrick was acting lighthearted and calm despite the intense levels of fighting over the past few hours.

"It's getting towards evening, and the gnolls can see better than we in the dark," sighed Jaheira "Loathed as I am to agree with the halfling, we should give up the search for the day. We need to focus on finding a safe camp site for the evening."

"Hold up a minute!" Imoen disagreed, casting a big long look up at a rickety old stone tower. "I bet I can get a better look from up there!" Before Aegis or anyone else more sensible could stop her, she'd started scrambling up the dangerous structure like a spider monkey.

"Imm!" Aegis complained, hurrying up to the bottom of the tower. "Get down here before you break your neck!"

"Oh don't be all bubbleheaded," her pink sister laughed, effortlessly drawing herself up to the very tip-top of the mountainous fort. Aegis waited anxiously at the base. A curious Xzar wandered up beside her, holding a lung in each hand.

"May I have her kidneys if she falls?" he asked, inspecting the base of the tower and wondering if he could cause just such a disaster by removing a brick or two.

"I'm going to light your lungs on fire if she falls," Aegis answered with a read of his mind, causing Xzar to gasp and grab the organs protectively close to him. He gave her a reproachful look.

"Well that's no way to treat medical science!" he chastised nasally.

"Do you see anything?" Aegis called up to her sister.

"Mmm, nope!" Imoen cooed, but Aegis couldn't really hear her. The wind was loud up across the fortress walls, and Imoen was even higher up than that; the howling sounds stole her voice away. Aegis could still make out her lips moving. She sighed. Then suddenly something occurred to her.

Was it possible that someone on a different elevation from the group might have failed to hear them, just as Aegis was failing to hear Imoen? Was it possible that the wind was stealing away the human sound of their voices, making it impossible for any prisoner to notice or call out to them?

Aegis quickly looked around, noticing the large pits lined in wooden stakes and partially covered in stretched animal skins. They had been built for another purpose once, but now it seemed they had been used for holding live prey. The party had only bothered to truly explore one of them, and they'd found it a dank and terrible smelling place lined with discarded offal and blood. Scratches left by desperate fingernails, animal and otherwise, had lined the walls.

A trickle of debris drift over Aegis. She held out her arms without even turning around, and became aware of a high-pitched shriek just before Imoen dropped straight into her hands.

"Ohgma's Balls!" the girl squeaked. "I slipped!"

"Told you," Aegis admonished, still not looking at her.

Imoen blinked. "What'd'you see?"

Aegis set her sister down feet first and then returned to the rest of the group. "I have an idea," she told them, and Minsc whirled back to listen immediately. "I think we should peel back the skin overlaying the different pits and have a good look inside each of them, as quickly as we can.

"That will take some time," Jaheira noted. "But if you think it best..."

Aegis nodded towards Minsc to convey she was willing to give this search one more shot before turning in for the night. "Let's hurry and split into groups of four. I'll take Xzar, Montaron, and Minsc. You take Garret and Immy.

"You would pick the mad ones," Jahiera groused, but she nodded and waved her party along. They fanned out in operate directions and combed the fortress pits as quickly and efficiently as they could. Here or there, a lone Gnoll appeared; wandering out of the interior of their fortress, only to find the fortress strewn with the bodies of their brethren. Those that had the sense to flee, Aegis didn't bother with. 

She was alongside Minsc, trying to reassure him, when they rolled back a thick boar skin from over one of the deep pits. The barbarian leaned over and peered inside worriedly, and then his eyes widened when he identified a small shape curled up in the wet and awful-smelling depths of the hole.

"It's Minsc's witch!" he hollered loud enough to wake the dead, and this time loud enough for the woman to look up and notice them. "Dynaheir! Rescue comes swiftly!"

And with that, he simply leaped into the forty-foot pit.

Actually, the most impressive thing wasn't that; The most impressive thing was that he landed without breaking anything, picked the woman up on one shoulder, and then started climbing out again. Montaron shook his head in disbelief. "Keep that one in between me and the next Ogre we meet," he half-joked to Aegis, while starting to fish out a rope from his pack.

"Him, I don't foresee a problem with," Xzar said slowly. "Her, though, her I'm not so sure of..."

Given how disruptive Xzar had been about the last party recruit he'd disliked, Aegis gave him a look. And when he didn't notice her look, she whispered something to her racoon, who hopped over onto Xzar's head and sat down there.

Every fiber in the wizard's body went stiff, his eyes opening wide in horror. He looked at Aegis without moving his head. "Help me," he whimpered in a childish voice.

She broke out laughing, and then took the proffered rope from Montaron, braced her foot against the wood stakes lining the pit, and tossed the other end down to a struggling Minsc. "Watch out boys, mamma ogre-killer's gotta haul two people out of a pit."

Montaron retorted with a sharp laugh. "Yeah, see if I don't remember that next time you're dying of gibberling feces and being dragged away by wolves in the dead of night."

"You didn't do jack shit last time," she teased, and then grunted when Minsc grabbed hold and she was suddenly responsible for hauling two reasonably heavy persons out of a forty-foot pit. "Of the two of you, hnghh, it's the wizard who stuck around to help out; and I'm not sure his memories go farther than the last half hour."

"Help... meeee..." the necromancer in question continued to mewl piteously.

Montaron rolled his eyes, but then came around behind Aegis to help with the rope. It wasn't much, but it turned out he weighed almost the same as Minsc's Dynaheir, so it was enough.

Dynaheir was even more exotic than the giant man who'd made rescuing her his first priority. She had dark skin with many earrings made from teeth and claws. She also had multiple bands of gold about her throat, and in large it seemed she had not been harmed. She gave them a heavy-lidded stare somewhere between sultry and haughty, and her voice had an almost lyric rolling to it that made it simultaneously interesting to listen to and difficult to understand.

"Thou art the ones that accompanied Minsc to assist me? I am in thy debt."

"Dynaheir! They are greatly heroic friends and fighters! Fighting-friends! It is true, Boo has examined them quite thoroughly."

Imoen was signaling to Jaheira, and the other group looked to have noticed and started heading their way. The lot of them needed to get away from this fortress and tucked away someplace safe and secretive for the night.

"You and he aren't from around here," Aegis asked as they walked. "He said you were both on some kind of journey?"

The woman nodded, leaning heavily on Minsc for support as they walked. "It is his dejemma that Minsc travels to fulfill, a right of passage on which I have accompanied him. Dishonor would hold fast to either of us were we to return alone; and fortunately we have become dear to each other along the way. Hail we do from the east, from Rashamen."

A few gazes lit up in comprehension, though Montaron scowled suspiciously. "A witch!" a de-racconated Xzar squealed delighted. "She's an actual witch! I've never met a witch before, have you Monty?"

Aegis gave him a funny look. "If she's a 'witch' then what are you?"

Xzar blinked and stuck his thumb between his teeth and thought very hard on the question.

Seeing no sensible answer was forthcoming from that direction, Aegis looked back to Dynaheir herself, who was having every hair about her examined for damaged by a thoroughly relieved looking barbarian man. "You're a wizard?" she prodded, which seemed a reasonably similar question to the one that had stumped Xzar.

"That word will suffice," confirmed Dynaheir, "though the theory and practice behind my spells is significant in its differences, the results witnessed as non-wizards will appear closely related. I am a Wychalarn of Rashamen, if specificity is meaningful to the listener."

"You still have your jewelry," Montaron scowled, as Jaheira and company reached them, "and yer skin! What'd you do to them Gnolls to keep them from eatin' ya?"

"I bluffed. I convinced them that I was a spirit of great potency, and a curse would befall them if they harmed me," Dynaheir explained. "I have no illusions that their shamans were beginning to see through my ruse, and had thou not arrived I would have been devoured within days. Make no mistake; I know well the service thou hast done for me, for both of us."

"This is her?" asked Jaheira. "Good. I can a use a small ritual to make us harder to track by smell for the evening, everyone hold still."

"We need to get off his howling rock before nightfall," Aegis agreed as they clustered as close together as party disputes made tolerable. "Then in the morning we can head back towards Nashkel."

"Whatever thy wish," Dynaheir agreed. "Indeed should I be so bold; perhaps we may accompany thou further than simply 'back'? Thou are clearly well-prepared for adventure along the road."

"We'll talk, but Minsc has been a pleasure and it's hardly ill news to hear another mage wants to travel with us."

"Especially since this one's pot is cracked," Montaron grumbled with a jerk of his thumb at a still visibly dumbfounded Xzar. 

"Magic is very impressive," Minsc told them sagely. "But if Minsc led, swords for everyone!"

"We will consider that in the next election!" Imoen chirped.

The headed out. After about fifteen seconds, Aegis walked back, grabbed a still-frozen Xzar by the arm, and hauled him along. He shrieked and sputtered for a moment, the two argued, a lung or two was thrown about, and then after a moment Aegis returned to the group with the necromancer thrown over her shoulder kicking and pounding his fists on her back, throwing a complete temper tantrum.

"Err," Montaron began. "I could-?"

"Don't worry, I counted," Aegis said nonchalantly, giving a little toss with her shoulder and getting a better grip on the wizard's rump. "He used up his spells for the day, including the extra one keeps in reserve; and I don't have the patience to reason with him."

"I hate you I hate you I hate you!" the necromancer wailed.

"Xzar, how many steps do you think we're walking down?" she asked as she passed the rest of the group members.

"Oh?" he paused, blinking downward. "Well let's see. There's one... and there's two... and three... four, five, six... Oh dear I lost count. Was that fourteen now? One hundred and seven! Eight. Nine..."

Aegis winked at Jaheira as she finally made it to the front of the group and started leading the way downward. The half elf shook her head, muttered under her breath, and followed.

Chapter Text

They were only thirty seconds from the Belching Dragon Tavern's door when a man in red robes approached their party. Because various incarnations of a similar event had already happened several times previously, the majority of Aegis's party quickly grasped at their weapons and hopped into a defensive formation around her. Their sudden readiness for combat gave the red-robed-man pause, and he looked them over a second time. But, surprisingly, it was not Aegis that this strange man was after.

"The witch!"

Several minutes and heated wizardly arguing later, a brand new story was unveiling itself. The man's name was Edwin Odesseiron, and he was not after Aegis of Candlekeep at all. He was from Thay, and he believed Dynaheir was dangerous.

"I implore you to let me deal with this woman," Edwin was saying. Because Aegis was less interested in Edwin than the tavern she could see over his left shoulder, she was not immediately identifiable as the leader of the party, and so Edwin was addressing Jaheira more than her. "She is a witch and she and all her ilk cannot be trusted. You will be sacrificed in the night to some pagan, demon-god!"

Jaheira wore a cold expression that worsened the longer he apoke; perhaps she'd once heard similar words spoken about druids or perhaps she knew more about Dynaheir's homeland than Imoen or Aegis did.

"Well, she's been lovely company on the way back," disagreed Garrick, who appeared to have grown smitten with the exotic woman in a very short stretch of time.

"Lovely-!" Edwin stammered in disbelief. "Lovely companion! (Nothing but a succubus, you addle-headed fool!)"

Imoen, had she been drinking anything, would have lost it through her nose. There had been at least three times already when the volume of Edwin's voice changed sharply and he began to mutter aloud thoughts any sane man would have kept to himself. Was it a power play, or was he unaware of what he was doin? 

"I am not so sure why we should trust you," Jaheira noted pointedly.

"I? I? (Fools, do you not see the red?) I am a wizard of Thay, my power and standing alone ought to be enough to convey I know what I speak of! Witch, step out from behind your excuses and falsely-gained protectors and face me! Let us end this!"

"Protection?" Dynaheir protested. "Protection from thou would be a courtesy, not a necessity. My power is no less than thine!"

"Power is nothing without the will to use it!"

"You want to kill Minsc's witch?!" Minsc shouted aloud, finally seeming to understand what all of this was about. "You will not touch one hair on her head while Minsc and Boo are here to protect her with teeth and steel!"

"A fireball could rectify that!" 

"Now w-wait j-just a second," protested Khalid, but he unfortunately went ignored.

"Thou art doing this because thou art of Thay? We are nearly a season's travel from our northern home and ye still wish to dredge up old battles? Fanatical fool!"

"Nothing changes with the distance!" Edwin answered as if her words were absurd. "You are wychlaran of Rashemen, I am a wizard of Thay! That you are here means I must be as well!"

"Thout knowest not even why I have traveled, only that thou must stop what ever it is I've come to do? Get thine own self a hobby!" Dynaheir chastised, "Thou doest have too much time on thy hands!"

Edwin snarled. "(I'll not suffer her insults!) Then-"

"Then clearly he'll just have to travel with us," Aegis answered, startling everyone.

Edwin spun about to look at her. "What?!" he, Dynaheir, and Jaheira exclaimed simultaneously.

"Well," Aegis reasoned, looking down at the wizard for the first time in awhile. "She hasn't broken any local laws and there are Ambush soldiers everywhere who would be happy to dogpile the first man to raise a sword or spell in violence. But surely you could not permit such a dangerous personage to wander about unsupervised."

"Well-" Edwin sputtered, not exactly sure what to do; he'd perhaps been calculating how many spells he had and whether or not he would have to deal with the entire party or rely on them to stand aside while he and Dynaheir settled their 'differences.'

"It's settled then," Aegis announced. "You'll travel with us till you're satisfied of Dynaheir's innocence, or she proves herself to be the danger you allege she is. Of course, any unprovoked violence from either party," she smirked at Minsc, "would look badly on the wizard who initiated it..."

Edwin's face contorted as he tried to come up with some kind of protest. Nothing immediately came to mind; her suggestion was as sound as it was absurd. That probably vexed him; he looked eager to smite the woman he'd come to smite and be done with this whole business.

Jaheira twisted to Aegis and said in a warning growl, "This party is already a powder keg."

But fortunately Aegis, not the powder, was in charge. She glanced Jaheira's way, gave a shrug to tell her she would not be caring, and extended a hand in greeting to Edwin while stepping between him and the rest of the party. "Welcome to the group."

"I haven't agreed to-!"

"Of course if you come with us that means eventually heading into the mines. We need to run a few more errands to build up provisions, but we're here to investigate the iron crisis at the end of the day. Is that somethin' you happen to be interested in, in addition to the whereabouts of migratory Rashemi?"

Edwin... stopped short of further protests and seemed to visibly weigh his options. Aegis turned a smile on the party as a whole.

"We should get the best wine in the house to celebrate our newest member. Quickly. With lots of food. All in favor?" She turned her gaze to include Edwin. He could be the newest party member being celebrated, or Dynaheir could be. What was it going to be?

"... Oh very well," he growled. "(Although the best wine in Nashkel probably still tastes like pig swill...)"

The normally quiet inn was bustling, the autumn air coming through the windows was cool and the fire was hot. It was a great environment to relax in. The waitresses were rushing overtime to address the swell of displaced miners, farmers, off-duty soldiers and persons of an adventuring persuasion, so Imoen took it upon herself to get to some of their drinks from the bartender herself. She practiced sliding pints of ale across the table without toppling 'em on arrival, winked at Monatron who arched a brow, and then clinked mugs with Aegis before flopping into her seat.

Imoen had spent her whole life surrounded by various scholars of the arcane, but Xzar had never exactly felt like a wizard in any sense she was familiar with. More like a comical b-tier reoccurring villain from an illustrated children's book or traveling puppet show.

But these two new people? They pinned the tail a little more solidly on the donkey. Firstly there was Edwin, who very much conveniently felt like, well, like 'a wizard.' Spell book, neat beard, gold-trimmed robes, nails filed to short, almost-practical casters' points, poorly concealed superiority complex. And Dynaheir? Dynaheir was brand new, strange, foreign, mysterious. What was a Wychlaran? How was the magical theory different?

Wait, could she maybe just ask? Would that come off weird, given that Imoen was just some barwench-turned-thief who obviously couldn't understand the arcane? Maybe! Didn't quite feel like either of them was approachable right now. Edwin had somehow just gotten hustled into the party and there was no guarantee he'd be traveling with them come morning, even. Dynaheir, wow, Dynaheir had just been through an experience. It'd make sense she wouldn't want to educate anybody right now. Lady needed some hearty food, a warm bath, and a long night's sleep; and with big ole Minsc to lean on, it wasn't like she was in any desperate need of another girl to help her out.

"Odde... Odds... Ood..." Minsc tried again, his heavy brow furrowed with concentration.

"Oh please, Do call me Edwin. (Simpering, monkey-brained, half-wit, son of a troll! Did I not endeavor to make it easy on you? Did I not warn you that attempting to pronounce the surname would make you look like sputtering baboons? Fools!)."

"Boo does not think this wizard will contribute well to Team Buttkicking-For-Goodness! His manner is like a sword being held with the pointy end facing the wrong way!"

"(The simian is eating with his hands and critiquing 'manners'?)"

Montaron leaned near Aegis to speak in a low voice and lodge a complaint not much different from Jaheira's: Too many people, too many motives, and did Aegis maybe want Monty to make sure the Red Wizard simply never woke up the next morning?

Aegis gave a quick shake of her head. "Remember how the Amnish soldiers bodied that last assassination attempt and then nearly blamed us for being victimized?"

Imoen half-toasted to that bit of advice. "Ain't a good idea to commit no crimes where the fin-heads are gonna find em, not when we were part of a recent ruckus. Gotta remember we're all technically foreigners to the Amnish, right?"

Montaron met the toast with begrudged agreement. "We actually bringin' him with, then?"

"Not sure," Aegis pivoted, "Do we know if he's actually dangerous?"

"He's Thayvian; they're all dangerous," Montaron gave a quick nod. "Wizarding children don't make it out of that hellhole alive without earning their spellbook, or some shit like that."

"Then we're banking on his intellect telling him he shouldn't take on eight people on his lonesome."

"Intellect, wizards got in spades. Wisdom? Ain't so much. Remember that 'Silke' broad? This one might just wait till we're distracted, make a mess."

Aegis chewed on that and reasoned, "We keep him near the center of the column when we travel, where he can't hit everyone in one go. He's better protected there, too. From everyone but us."

"Oh I'm figuring his cloak for magic," Imoen interjected. "Got my nose to tingling. Plus he threw around the word 'fireball' outside, and if that's the same sorta spell in his homeland as it is here, maybe he's not afraid of being caught in the area of effect, on account of having some personal fireproofing."

"Pfah, elemental resistance is different from elemental immunity, girlie," Montaron disputed. "First un's a dime a dozen, the latter's a rare bit of spellwork indeed. No, he'd snuff himself if he leveraged the power he'd need to take out that Minsc or this meat shield here," he jerked his chin at Aegis, "The strategy of policing his location till we're done ain't bad. The question's whether we can keep feuding wizards from enemy homelands placated long enough to get into the mines in the first place and finished the job."

"We're not ready to head down just yet," Aegis reasoned slowly. "We'll see what happens tomorrow. Maybe he'll lose patience and turn on us and we'll have to deal with it then."

"Ain't exactly like I'm trusting that Dynaheir either," Montaron brought up. "Could go the other way around, and she attacks on the fear ye'll side with him."

Imoen shook her head, "We just rescued her, something she couldn't do for herself on her lonesome. She's gonna try and convince us to be her protectors, and stick close. I'm sure of it."

Aegis polished off a pint and added: "I'd prefer one wizard and one very large man with a sword to just one wizard. And, frankly, I'd bet money on the former in a snap fight, too."

"Aye, well, can't cast if you've been cut in half," Montaron smirked. "Then ya might wanna head off any more conversation that-a-way, because the Red Wizard looks like he's about to burst a blood vessel over there."

Imoen sat up straighter to get a look and discovered Minsc was not doing great diplomacy over there. "Ooh boy. Okay! Ae? Can you distract Minsc? Maybe I have an idea for how to mellow the wizard out until at least tomorrow."

"Whole day tomorrow?" Aegis queried as Imoen slipped from her seat.

"Depends on the length of the hangover!"

"Mr. Oddseron," Garret chimed, "have you decided if you will you be heading with the group into the mines, or do you plan to stay outside?"

Edwin gave a look that could melt stone. "(Oh look; a bard with no skill with words.) I have no intention of letting my eye off of this witch, dangerous as she is. And as for my name, it is pronounced-"

"Odesseiron!" Imoen interjected from just beside his elbow, earning a jump from Edwin. He turned about to look at her, only for her to set a bottle of freshly opened wine down before him. "Figured you'd like a red instead of a white," she said coyly.

"Oh you're a clever one," he sneered, taking the bottle with only half a glance at the lable.

"Nah, if I were clever I'd know the difference between a wizard and a witch!" she said and dragged over a seat. "Maybe a wizard as masterfully intelligent and well-put together as yourself could explain it to me!"

The Thayvian sneered. "Are you mocking me?"

"Me? Mock? I'd never."

"Everyone!" began Garrick nervously, raising his voice, and temporarily called over attention. "It seems you're not wanting for help, now that you have two new wizards and the other ranger here..."

The party perked up as one unit, waiting to see if the bard was leaving.

"...and that's just how I love a party!" Garrick exclaimed. "So many faces to know, so many happy songs to sing! Ah, I do love traveling with friends!"

"Ye got ta be shittin' meh," Montaron grumbled under his breath. "Whose he been sleepin' with to look that happy? No one is who!"

"EVERYONE!" Xzar shouted as he slid to a halt alongside the table, again causing the entire party to jump. "They have Fish Heads!"

Aegis squinted at him in disbelief, "We're on the sword coast, Xzar. We have fish everything. We're lucky we have anything but fish."

"Eiii! Why did no one tell me earlier?! Delightful, delightful! shall pretend I am dining from the helmet of those Amnish soldiers, brains and all! So splendid! So wonderful!"

Imoen leaned nearer to Edwin and whispered, "He's the party wizard."

Edwin shot her a disbelieving look. 

"So, please take a moment to reconsider the possibility that you are, in fact, the best person to ask."

Edwin gave a small shake of his head, and went to uncork the wine. "I see that now," he said flatly, because apparently the idea that Xzar was the dominant casting force behind an entire adventuring party needed to be taken with alcohol.

"She has no sense at all," Jaheira muttered. "These peoples' affairs are not ours! It is bad enough she so naively welcomed the Rashemi into our group without knowing anything about their purpose or character; but to then welcome in one who would cause them harm is to invite further infighting, further dissension; and of all things he is a Red Wizard of Thay!"

"My dear-"

"Did she not pay attention in her classes, that she does not know the risks involved? Slavers, demonologists, experimenters- cretins of the worst kind and no better than the Zhents themselves. Was Gorion so lax in her teachings that he did not teach her to identify red robes by sight?"

"J-jaheira-"

"Perhaps she is simply a foolish child who lives on drama and little more. I have had nearly enough of this. First the wizard necromancer and the traitorous halfling, now this."

"Dynaheir is a g-gentle young woman, and her accomplice, though odd, is w-warm hearted a-and-"

"And listens to the voice of his miniature giant space hamster!" Jaheira retorted. "Enough of this madness! She is our friend's ward, we cannot permit these influences- he would not have!"

"Well, t-to b-be fair-"

"And I have-"

"J-Jaheria!"

She jumped, startled by her usually timid lover's stern tone. He frowned at her for a moment, to make sure she was listening to him this time. Jaheira so rarely spoke over him or ignored his words, and the fact that she had been doing so at times lately hurt.

"I... ... I am so sorry, Khalid," she apologized and quickly took his hands in hers. "You know I treasure your words. Sometimes I am merely trapped in my own mind."

Khalid nodded. "The R-Rashemi are good people," he told her. "Do not make enemies where n-none should be made. Do not b-be so absolute in your j-judgements. T-the wizard... better with us where we can keep an eye on him than w-working to harm them and potentially us from the outside, no?"

"You really believe she thinks that way? So detailed about how to keep an eye on Thayvian scum? I think she trusts blindly, foolishly, and ignores unconscionable vices."

Khalid looked out at where Aegis and Edwin were deep in their cups and at least being sociable as they discussed the diseased iron. Xzar was distracted by his 'treat.' Imoen and Montaron were talking conspiratorially with one another. Minsc looked to be fussing over dynaheir. No one was preventing Garrick from strumming his instrument.

"I think... she is a very sturdy thread," Khalid decided. "To stitch together such a quilt as this."

Jaheira glanced at her lover uncertainly, and then looked to Aegis. "She should be looking to the goodly people of the world, people such as the Harpers, Elminster, the good deities and the elves to protect her. Not to Thayvian scum and Moon-Eyed dark wizards. She need not stoop to this; the means does not justify the ends when one seeks no better means. And mark my words, they will turn on her when the price is right."

"Give it time," Khalid plead with her. "Give her time to grow. She will learn. Or she will teach us something."

"Or she'll die," Jaheira growled. "And we're the ones charged with keeping that from happening.

Chapter Text

When Aegis had consumed a 'few' beers and the party was filled with good food and wine, the party proceeded from the bustling Belching Dragon Tavern onward to the quieter Nashkel Inn (Ironically, the place where Aegis has nearly been assassinated a few days previously) where they could get rooms for the night and continue drinking at their leisure. 

Aegis needed to pee, but first she claimed one of their many rooms, set down her heavy pack, and eased off her armor and traveling robes. She ducked out the back of the inn to relieve herself, and then, thinking it was more chilly than she'd previously realized, returned to her room to grab a slightly heavier shirt. She was rummaging quickly through her bags when she heard the door open behind her.

Now Aegis was already rosy-cheeked and happy, but half a dozen assassination attempts were now impressed on her psyche, so when that door opened up without so much as a knock, she spun about like a leaping cougar, axe in hand, teeth bared, eyes aflame. She saw a flash of magic and brought the axe down with a heavy thud.

"Something troubling you?" a luxurious voice asked her.

Aegis blinked once, twice. She was standing over Xzar with a fist tight on the collar of his shirt. Her axe blade was embedded in the door a few inches above his head, and his unruly graham hair tickled the axe beard. He was holding a small, blue light spell in hand.

"Xzar," she said, and then sighed in relief. She lowered her head and leaned her weight slightly into him before she could remember he might flip out and scream. "I thought you were an assassin."

"Well who says I'm not? I'm surprised you missed. Were you aiming for someone taller? That wouldn't be very many people."

Aegis squinted back up at the necromancer's face with a puzzled frown. "Oh. I-" she paused, de-tangling the way her muscles had reacted when the door had opened and interpreting them. She nodded to herself. "I wouldn't have hit you. I turned the swing high."

He cocked his head to the side and seemed baffled. "Did you? But why? Don't you know it's in your nature?"

"My nature, huh?" Aegis pushed herself back from him and jerked the hatchet free from the door. Maybe Jaheira could fix that mark she'd just left, or... maybe the innkeeper wouldn't notice. "What's in my nature? I'm not sure you're qualified to have this conversation any day, and I'm halfway to being drunk."

"Oh but I am qualified," he cooed, stepping towards her with a wary curiosity. "It's my trade, you know."

"What is?" This was making her nervous. Xzar was usually harmless and nonsensical, but this cognizant and articulate part of him worried her. It seemed older than him, wiser, and malevolent... or at least sociopathic.

"Death. Life and death actually, but certainly death."

Aegis wasn't sure she wanted to go down this road. She considered trying to derail Xzar with something dirty, rabbit-related, other otherwise ridiculous. "The hell do you only ever want to have this kind of conversation when I'm enjoying booze, for?" she complained, feeling strange and slightly surreal.

Xzar gave a shy smile that slowly grew wider. "It's when I get you alone..." he cooed appreciatively. "Away from camp... away from little sister and looming auntie... Don't you know what you are? Mn. Clearly not."

"I'm a woman," she retorted, "a grouchy one who likes ale, raccoons, and the smell of pine."

"You are a godchild," Xzar corrected, and Aegis scowled.

"You're mad."

He pouted and stepped nearer to her. "Are you angry with me?" he asked with liquid suaveness, in the most gentle purr. At his tone Aegis felt a shudder run through her, a sensation that started from the top of her head and went down her tailbone and out through her limbs. Tension left her, replacing the retentive urge to flee with a determined need to act.

"Xzar," she muttered as he drew closer.

"You are death," he purred. "You feel it in every moment, you feel the pulse of everything around you, the rush of life, the thrill of danger, the impending doom of every heartbeat, the-"

"Xzar," she growled louder, and he blinked as if startled.

"Yes?"

"Are you honestly asking me why I didn't put an axe in your head?"

"I suppose I am," he decided. "I confess that curiosity, yes."

"In what warped, twisted world do you live where it is a normal and socially acceptable thing to haphazardly put an axe in the head of one's traveling companion one evening without provocation, motivation, or reward?"

Xzar looked around, and then his eyes found her face again. "The same one as you. I think. Or are you perhaps from an alternative dimension?"

Aegis stared at him for a long moment. Then she stepped up into his personal space. "Wherever you grew up? It was shitty. Maybe in your world, I look like some kind of violent axe-wielding murderer about to snap. But I'm not. I'm your traveling companion and possibly your friend, and I have no interest in taking your head off."

Xzar smirked, still pushing closer, moving straight into her personal space and lifting a hand to smooth out wrinkles in her shirt. "Really," he purred curiously, as if he either didn't believe her or had just heard a fascinating joke. "You imagine... you have some kind of... 'moral high road' to walk, here?" he chortled.

Aegis squinted a little down at him, at his invasion of her space. Xzar was not short, but he was leaning forward, posture arched, looking up into her face with an attitude: Half patronizing, half the other way around; a knavish street boy in the midst of trying something he knew to be stupidly daring.

Aegis had a better idea. She stepped forward into him and dropped her mouth roughly onto his. The necromancer gasped in sharply and grabbed at her chest as if to shove himself away. He didn't shove. He trembled and bent subtly, arched, eased into the touch. He murmured a wordless, nervous sound.

Taking the lack of protest for a tentative invitation, Aegis reached out to find his hips through the buffer of his robe; she settled her hands on green cloth and bands of leather; She tugged him closer to her. The curls of her hair dripped from behind her shoulders and brushed gently against his cheek as she kissed him. His hands remained at her arm and chest, but did nothing there.

When they had tasted enough of eachother for a moment or two, she lifted her head a little and regarded him quietly.

"I'm mad," Xzar said disapprovingly up at her, pushing her hair off of his chest and back behind her ears. "You said so yourself. The deck's short a few cards, so where's your high road now? Where's your simpering elfish goat to harp elegant, moral tosh in your ears? Or perhaps you really are closer to the edge than you'd knowingly admit."

Aegis didn't say a word and nuzzled gently into his forehead. He turned his face to the side almost as if hiding from her, so she rubbed her face into his hair and nipped at one of his ears and then his neck as he shifted to accommodate her. The sounds he made were starting to sound like hesitant mews, and with the alcohol hot in her system Aegis could not help but notice how richly she was enjoying the smell of him. Something about this was intoxicating; worse than alcohol.

For a moment, Xzar didn't say anything. As she pulled him closer, his hands traveled slowly over her shoulders and crossed hesitantly, curiously over her back. Then they suddenly dipped and skimmed under the hem of her shirt, and Aegis drew a sharp breath when she realized the quick and delicate touches were exciting. She clutched at him roughly, lacking the wizard's manual dexterity but eager to show her appreciation. Xzar squirmed and looked up at her fiercely, teeth slightly bared.

"You smell like honey," she muttered. "Were you drinking mead?"

"I. Am. A. Necromancer," he spelled out for her as if she were stupid, and he pulled slightly backwards from her. She advanced on him, kept advancing on him, pursued, pushing him slowly across the room. "And your moral highroad is a facade which desperate monks constructed to hamstring and hide a terrible blackness and delay the inevitable. Believe that. I have seen the yearning in you, desperate to break free... You are no obedient goodly doll, and I am a Necro-"

"Do you come minor drain spells?" she asked him with excessive vulgarity, groping about his hips and finding the curve of his rump. He squirmed and grimaced as if in displeasure or pain. Then he shook his head. "Mm. Neither do I."

Xzar was still backing up, his lips parted and teeth showing as he breathed. The backs of his thighs came into sharp contact with a small dresser that was perched at the side of the room and he looked about himself unsteadily, half sitting on it from surprise. Then he looked up at her and swallowed hard.

Aegis tilted her head to the side, half-formed memories from back in Beregost flicking through her mind as a wizard's nimble hands clutched and twitched hesitantly at her sides. The touch was sending a fire through her as if her nerves knew something she didn't and were excited.

Want.

"Are you still scared of touching me?" she asked him huskily. The madman squirmed uncertainly at her words, at the way her hips nearly had him pinned up against the dresser and he couldn't quite stand without keeping a hand on it. He looked at the nearness of her, and how he himself was still touching her.

"You... are not... this...!" The Necromancer hissed, but now he looked highly conflicted, as if on the cusp of a decision or realization he didn't know how to make. His face contorted between several widely different expressions, chief among them fear and curiosity. Aegis watched him for a moment, till doing so slowly became unbearable. 

"You are no Nature-Child," he whispered to her. "Acknowledge me. My words. I am not mad. You are a Child of Death. You have felt strangled life bleed out beneath your fingers and your soul has worshiped the feeling-!"

Aegis shook her head. "What do you want?" she asked him. "I am a ranger. I don't want to hurt you, and I don't want to hurt Jaheira or anyone-"

"Liar."

"Xzar," she growled needily. "Xzar. How many steps did you count at the gnoll fortress?" she asked him.

He jolted and blinked up at her several times, his body relaxing under her hands. She leaned nearer to him, her lips ghosting his. "Three hundred... and fourteen," he murmured. When she kissed him, his fingers flit over her to accommodate. Her return gestures were rough and unskilled by comparison, but they were certainly enthusiastic.

"Like this...?" Xzar muttered, his tone suggesting disbelief. "You want... you'd taint... You cling so hard to your mask, Little Death; then how can you do this...? Do you not see the marks on my face? Do you not acknowledge what I am?"

"Soft?" she murmured into his brow and then his hair, bending him backwards with the intensity of her affections.

"You... you..." he sputtered into her shoulder as she leaned over him and pulled him tightly into her, her hips grinding dry into the folds of his robes. "You. Are. Mad!" he hissed, then bit his lip through a moan. 

For the second time that evening, the bedroom door opened without a knock. This time it did so with a loud bang. "Where are ya, yeh durned fool wizard, I be needin' ta have a word with-"

Montaron gaped at what he'd just walked in on. Xzar tilted his head to the side and blinked innocently. Aegis paused unsteadily over her quarry and uttered a predatory growl.

"Monty? Whatever is the matter, dear?" the wizard cooed gaily from where he'd been pinned to the wall and dresser. "Need a potion?"

"Th-the hells-" Montaron stuttered. "Gods strike meh blind!" and he whirled about and fled, slamming the door in disgust behind him.

"Well, that was rude," Xzar pouted. Aegis drew in a long, slow breath. The intrusion had her thinking second thoughts about where she was and what she was currently doing. Her wizard felt her retreat and looked sharply up at her, wide-eyed and strangely innocent.  She paused.

"Hello," he said.

Aegis sighed and closed her eyes, slowly pulling backwards. Nimble fingers slid up her belly and cupped gently around the swells of her breasts. That got a sharp intake of breath out of her, and she looked critically back down at her captured necromancer. He blushed at her and continued, green eyes mischievous.

Hnh...

Aegis leaned back over him, watching his face. "Can you stay like this for a bit?" she asked slowly, reaching up to touch his temple and brush through his hair. "With me."

He considered the question and gave a little nod. She sucked in a breath and then stuffed her arms under him and hoisted him up, and carried him over to the bed. As she did so, he bit into her neck gently and his hands pulled up the back hem of her tunic.

Chapter Text

"I think our subteam composition has fundamentally changed," Imoen sniffled, coming back from the hallway and plopping miserably down at the table. "Montaron, why didn't you warn me?"

The halflin gave a sympathetic grumble and pushed her an ale. He was already a few shots of whisky on the way to oblivion.

"Maybe we can have thiefly bonding time?" she tried to find a silver lining.

"Piss off, kid, I'm a loner for a reason."

"What's wrong now?" Jahiera sighed.

"I had it all worked out!" Imon protested. "Team Elf, Team Unsavory, Team Pink, Team Rashamen, and Team We Hope the Thayvian Likes Music! Now it's more like Team Thief and-and-and I don't even know what the other one is! Team Crazy!"

Jahiera gave an absurd frown and looked at Khalid. "Do you know what she is talking about?" the druid asked, and Khalid shrugged helplessly.

"I suspect thine violet child may be referencing our sleeping arrangements," Dynaheir chimed musically over her wine. "Speaking of which, it is about that time, and I am very weary from the travels... and from some of the company..." She yawned, earning an irritable grimace from a fortunately reasonably sedated Edwin.

Jaheira looked Montaron and Imoen up and down. "Where is Aegis?" she asked suddenly, making to stand.

"She's- she's- she's sleeping," Imoen said after a moment, blushing crimson.

"Then what is the problem? Weren't you just heading to bed?"

"Yes! No. Not-! But-! Aegis is sleeping with Xzar!" the pink girl blurted.

Khalid jumped. "Wh-what?"

"Loudly!" Imoen complained now that the cat was out of the bag. Her exclamation caused several faces to turn slightly green.

"Oh gods, don't remind me," Montaron groaned. "I'm the one whose traveled with him longest! Nearly burned my gods be damned eyes out."

"I don't want to sleep with Montaron, he snores!" she whined.

"Fuck off ye little harpy, I ain't happy about this either."

"Why am I still a virrrrgiinnnn!?" Imoen wailed into her ale, causing Montaron to choke, Jaheira and Khalid to both turn scarlet instead of green, and Garrick to desperately to look anywhere but at her lest he get murdered by the more protective members of the party. "Candlekeep had no boys our age ever! Except for the stable kid, and he was spoken for!"

Jaheira stood up. Xzar was a problem, yes, but for now it seemed not to be an addressable one. But this? Jahiera grabbed Imoen's shoulder, pulling her out of her seat and dragging her off to have a talk about the value and sanctity of physical love.

"Nooooo!" Imoen wailed even though she didn't even yet know exactly what Jaheira was dragging her off for; She could already tell it was going to be a good little church girl lecture.

Minsc scratched his head and looked to Boo for an interpretation of what had just happened.

"Well, if she's really that desperate," Montaron was saying slowly.

"I think thou may be too inebriated for such tasks," Dynaheir advised sagely before Khalid could shield bash his skull in, and then she glided off to bed.

"Yeh, yer probably right..."

"Also, you are indubitably far beneath any woman's tastes," Edwin muttered into his wine. "(Though if she was a little older... It has been a long road...)"

"Boo does not approve of the direction of this outer monologue," Minsc decided grumpily, and the Thayvian looked genuinely confused.

"Please stop trying to think; words do not become you. Now leave me be, before I summon fiendish gnolls behind your head and send them trotting after your thrice damned witch. (Simpleton.)" Minsc seemed very off put at that, standing up with all of his considerable height and breadth and glaring down at the mage. But the threat must have made him nervous, because when Edwin didn't immediately back down, he spun about and hurried after Dynaheir.

Edwin sneered. "What I wouldn't give to have both invisibility and silence memorized this evening..."

Montaron chuckled into his drink. "Yeh sure ye know which side of the dagger to hold?" he asked the wizard, understanding well what Edwin meant and earning a frown from the still-present but largely ignored Khalid.

"Go back to your whisky and leave me be (half man)."

[PAST]

"You are in big trouble, young man."

Gorion nearly jumped out of his skin and then lifted blue eyes in confusion to a very sleepy looking Aegis. The little girl was standing past the edge of his desk with a cat on her head and her hands on her hips, looking at him reproachfully. "Aegis," he said, looking at his candles. How many hours had he been working? He closed the tome he'd been staring at, folding his new cipher carefully up within the pages. "You should be in bed."

"Exactly!" she announced. "Only I had a nightmare and I came to find you. Do you have any idea what time it is? It is far past your bedtime."

The old wizard had been standing up to usher her off to bed, but at this proclamation a smile spread over his face and he cast an endeared look down at his child.

"If I have to get up at dawn to do my chores, YOU have to get up at dawn to make my breakfast, sir," she chastised him. "And this is the third night in a row you've been late, even when I woke you up twice in a row on Tuesday cause you feel back asleep! Don't make me tell Winthrop on you! You'll be doing dishes for weeks!"

"I see," Gorion murmured gravely, fighting the urge to smile and stooping to pick up the girl. He gave a grunt as he did so; she was getting too heavy, or he was getting too old. "That's an ominous threat indeed. Perhaps I should heed your sage advice, Matron Aegis."

"Of course you should," Aegis puffed out her chest. "I learned from the best." She nearly lost her balance in his arms and then hugged him tightly.

"How could I ever have doubted your wisdom?" the old mage played along, wincing at a kink in his back and then waving a hand to extinguish his work candles. Oof. One-handed Aegis was far worse than two handed Aegis.

She must have noticed, or perhaps sensed his discomfort, because she suddenly got a very serious look on his face. "Papa," she asked him, "how old are you?"

"Who is wanting to know, little matron?" he asked her, carrying her out of the room and towards her bedroom. He was no Elminster and Lady Mystra did not intend for him to live ageless forever. Best to start getting used to it. At least it would affect him slower than it did most men. That was one favor his great grandmother had done him, he supposed.

"Well, when will you die?" she asked him. Gorion paused, and tried not to frown at her as he tried to deduce where this question had come from. Questions of death always carried more weight in his mind when Aegis asked them of him. Unlike with normal children, there had never been a day where Aegis had come to him and asked if he or she ever would die; she took both facts for granted.

"I am not so old that you need to start worrying about things like that, dear one. Who have you been talking to, to put such questions in your mind?"

"We read the lineage of the Neverwinter royal family today," Aegis told him. "It's in all the entries: Lord so in so did this that and the other. He was married at the age of blah blah blah, had six children and all these lands and then died from something at the age of... a lot of the numbers aren't so big. Not even close to a hundred! Even when they say a person dies 'peacefully in their sleep' which Immy says is the best way. I'm not sure why that's the best, it's definitely the most boring, but I guess those numbers are usually always higher so maybe that's what she meant..."

"I see. So you are asking me for the sake of mathematical curiosity?" he teased gently.

Aegis frowned up at him. She squirmed in his arms for a moment. "You aren't going to work anymore tonight, are you?"

He'd been thinking about it, he admitted inwardly, but the strange juxtaposition of her question made him think better of it. "No, I am quite thoroughly scolded, little Matron. Why do you worry so?"

"The monks always say 'to work at day and with night rest, leaves a man's health at its best'," she chimed, eyeing him suspiciously.  Gorion paused at his daughter's doorway and regarded her curiously. She squirmed a moment more and then hugged him tightly, squeezing her arms around his neck. "I don't want you to die, ever," she told him. "If you do it, I won't smile at all. I'll be very mad at you."

The wizard was quiet for a very long time before smothering his cheek into her hair and rubbing gently up and down her back. "I'm not that old, sweet child," he promised her, and he had never been so grateful for the source of the silvery feathers that occasionally showed up in his hair. "You don't have to worry about that."

"Really?" She blubbered between sniffles.

"Really." He kissed her brow.

[Present]

When dawn pricked her to wakefulness, Aegis considered that maybe all wizards were just night owls and very bad at getting up in the mornings. Here Aegis was basically some kind of late night party monster finally set loose upon the world, and her sense of connection to the dawn would get her up come hell, high water, or hangover; and yet Xzar was sleeping like a baby. Still, perhaps it was best she was the earlier riser. It gave her some time to figure out what the hell she was going to do with herself.

The twin bed was small and for the most part Aegis had simply buried Xzar underneath herself. Unlike with her, the morning light appeared to disagree with him, because he'd flung an arm over his eyes to keep the dawn away and tucked the rest of his face into her shoulder. She bemusedly wondered how he could breathe.

The feeling of another person's lungs, of their heartbeat, was comforting on some base animal level. It made her relaxed; sleepy again; calm.

"What am I doing...?" Aegis muttered to herself with a grimace, brushing fingers through the wizard's graham hair appreciatively. "Gorion wouldn't be smiling if he could see..."

In the abstract, sleeping with the mentally unstable Necromancer seemed the most non-sensible thing Aegis could have possibly done. It was, to be frank, sort of stupid. Yet in practice she found herself happily stroking along his cheek and temple, enjoying anything and everything about her bizarre traveling companion. "... Balor's balls, I'm smitten."

Well, without any ancient tales of warrior women randomly crushing on party fools, she supposed she'd just have to play the whole infatuation by ear. Figure the story out herself. There was no feasible future to imagine; and no happy ending to veer towards. One supposed she'd just have to head forth into the unknown armed only with the knowledge that the crazy wizard's snuggles had the power to help her sleep at nights. Oof. Too much thinking. Needed breakfast.

Xzar stirred and Aegis tensed. Was he going to scream? Hopefully not. Xzar had managed to snuggle up with her successfully numerous times on the road without having a traumatized meltdown come morning; but then again he'd always woken up beside her or on her, and never being crushed by her. Aegis decided to play it safe, and as her bedmate squirmed and yawned she pushed herself off of him and gingerly sat down on the edge of the bed. She looked around, establishing where her clothes had ended up in the late night melee. As she waited for her head to clear, fingertips ghosted gently over her back.

"No one has done that for me without solicitation before," the Necromancer murmured in a liquid voice, his fingers lazily swirling around the shapes of organs like the kidneys and spleen. "Of one form or another. Nor the converse."

"What's the conversational topic?" Aegis asked, picking up a boot and eyeing it dumbly for a moment. No, no, she needed the sock first. Where were her underthings? Ah. How had they ended up under the bed?

"Merely that in the past, were the benign interest in a warm body to strike, it would have necessitated a brothel, or something of the like..."

Aegis paused and glanced back at her companion. He continued to trace over her back for a moment and then lifted his eyes to hers when he noticed she was staring. "You're lucid," she realized aloud, dropping her boot and her underwear and twisting to look down at him.

"I did try to stress the absurdity of this last evening, but take a moment: wouldn't you say a sudden outburst of 'you're lucid' is a rather strange proclamation to feel compelled to direct towards one's voluntary bedmate upon waking, Little Death?" Aegis blinked, not really awake enough to register that she was being chastised for... something. For being willing to sleep with him? Xzar had gotten distracted at least, and bought her time: "Mm, your external obliques are very well defined at your iliac crest. That's rare in women, you know; even fit ones."

"You're actually lucid," Aegis exclaimed again, turning fully towards him and leaning over.

"Yes," the Necromancer agreed, settling a hand at either side of her and tracing curiously up her waist with his thumbs. "Tell me, how did you develop such a predatory shape whilst shut up in a church training for future nun-hood?"

"Acrobatics with Imoen on bar furniture?" Aegis asked, not entirely sure what to do with a lucid Xzar. Was it on a time limit, perhaps? How long until he was shrieking and cackling about fish heads and then ominously predicting the end of life as they knew it?

"Ten distinct rectus abdominal muscular segments," he murmured as his fingers moved upwards. "Interesting but not certainly biologically significant. How many teeth do you have?" His fingers traced up over her chest, counting rib bones between her breasts. Aegis fidgeted.

"The... normal amount I guess? I don't know."

"Supernumerary non-clavicle ribs on either side, supernumerary kidneys on each side... Tch... show me... How many teeth?" He touched her face gently.

Aegis hesitated, counting with her tongue. She tried to multiply one quadrant by four, but numbers weren't exactly Aegis's strong suit. She ended up counting all of them. "Thirty... thirty?"

"Some wisdom teeth missing? Or not yet broken through yet? Mm, nothing with an elongated maw, then. Perhaps he was an incubus; they're slender and that also explains the definition... But perhaps too slender; you are of a slightly stockier composition."

"What are you talking about?" she asked him, puzzled and wondering if she'd made a wrong call about him being lucid. Still, he was behaving very differently from normal, and not exactly in a bad way.

"I am speculating on what form your sire took during your conception," Xzar told her, his fingers lacing up into her hair. "Mm, and no horns..." Aegis wrinkled her nose.

"Of course I have no horns. He had no horns. I'm human," she told him.

Pale green eyes flicked to her face. "No, Little Death. Not entirely," he said softly. Aegis didn't like the way this conversation was going and she moved to get some small space from him. His fingers latched in her hair and against her neck, clinging to her. "Wait! Do not ignore me, I'm not mad!" he pleaded, then hesitated as he considered the statement. "Well, I suppose I should say, I am not currently raving..." He looked back up at her. "I will not hurt you."

Aegis thought that last statement was slightly odd until she considered her circumstances from an outsider's perspective. A necromancer was appraising the state of her organs, bones, and teeth; most people probably would have found that very threatening. "I- I didn't assume you were going to, Xzar... but I honestly I don't get what you're trying to do. You keep making these ominous references to my heritage, and then suggesting I want to murder everyone in the party. Which, I would like to stress, is absolutely not true."

He seemed hesitant and confused at her words. "I merely attempted to interpret fortune from your bones. You want to know why a menacing knight slew your foster father to get to you, do you not?" he asked.

Aegis grimaced and recoiled. "The hell do you want from me, Xzar?"

He jumped and his eyes widened. "I don't want anything of you!" he protested, eyes round.

Aegis sighed, because apparently even a calm and articular Xzar was not inclined to speak sense. Her decision to sleep with him—twice, now—was feeling stranger and stranger, but she felt a little bad for pulling away from him when he was trying to be, in his own way, earnest.

"I do not want... I only wanted..." He swallowed to wet his throat before speaking again, and then his voice had lowered in pitch. "The last time I was with a female of any species, I was servicing her and making blood offerings in exchange for a new spell book."

Aegis went silent, freezing in place to stare down at him. Pale green eyes searched her face hopefully, at a loss for what words might better explain himself or his intentions. Although she could certainly admit to being unnerved and perhaps even disgusted, she was tickled by the curious realization it was more on his behalf than because of him. Furthermore, she was getting the sensation that he was trying to communicate something benign. Perhaps appreciation, or maybe even fondness.

"That... sounds terrible, Xzar," she decided at last was her answer. "Why did you need a new spellbook?"

"Mm. I'd 'lost' the first," he decided, eyes lowering to a half-lidded state thoughtfully. Then he looked back up at her, and his fingers slipped gently through her hair, the ring and pinky coiling gentle around past her ear and cupping the base of her skull. "You are not human."

Aegis sighed. "Then what am I, Xzar? A demon?"

"You are so fascinating... You have confused your mask for your face..."

"I will never use the word 'lucid' to describe you again, so long as we live."

He pouted. "Then tell me honestly, Little Death... About your childhood. Tell me, were you ever forced to fight the urge to smile while watching something die? Did you ever play at strangling the life out of some small animal, observing as it teetered at the brink? Did the sight of any cut or wound or raw hunk of meat—the sight of blood—fascinate you? The first men you were forced to kill- did watching them die send an electric thrill through your veins? Did you ever confess trouble to your dear foster father in telling when violence was wrong?"

Aegis sat back slowly, fully, into quiet numbness. Then she looked uncertainly at Xzar, trying to imagine how he knew that, or worse, how such a thing might generally be knowable. "... So I am some kind of demon?" she asked quietly. "What is that supposed to say about the person who's trying to kill me?" 

"Oh don't mistake him for some kind of angel," Xzar scoffed. "More likely, he's the kind that wants power; and he needs you dead to have it, Little Death. Perhaps his hands are full with many similar tasks; and he hasn't the time to chase you himself." Xzar tilted his head to the side. "You like your mask. Maybe it suits you. Though I still find it very strange."

"Says the madman."

Xzar twitched and then giggled playfully, and Aegis almost immediately knew the spot of clarity had broken. "Am not," he cooed. "You're mad. Mad as a hatter! A rabbit hatter. A habbit ratter!"

Aegis watched him confused and perplexed a moment longer, noticing at how he was suddenly uncomfortable with how she loomed over him. Whatever had just happened, whatever conversation they'd been having, it was over. Well. Okay. She leaned over and plopped a gentle kiss on his hair. He made an inarticulate sound of protest, hummed contently, and then had an entire one sided conversation with her about the evils of squirrels while she fished around the room for her clothing.

She was dressed and ready to leave the room when suddenly arms wrapped around her waist from behind and she looked down to see Xzar with his underthings on his head, hugging her from the bed.

"I like you," he told her. "So I've decided you are permitted to continue being my stand in Flesh Golem."

Aegis made a face, briefly wondered if he was referencing a golem's primary function as a tool for protecting a wizard, or something more perverted, and then relaxed when she remembered that ninety percent of the time, Xzar was rather asexual. Then she remembered it took an incredibly messed up sort of person to build a Golem from dead flesh.

"Whatever you say," she sighed fondly, patting his head. "Get dressed, I'll make sure your breakfast is ready."

"Eee! I wuv u mammy!" he trilled hysterically as she pulled away and headed out the door.

There was a bowl of steamed fish broth and, yes, heads waiting for him when he got downstairs, and the look he gave her suggested she might as well have been the world's supreme incarnation of goodness and filled her with a sense of pride and accomplishment she most certainly did not deserve.

She was filled with an overwhelming urge to go rescue kittens from trees and help elderly women with their shopping errands; although ironically both those things would probably have given Xzar an ulcer if he'd been forced to witness them. Either way the necromancer's appreciation as he delved into his bowl was a nice contrast to the cold and loveless glare Jaheira was shooting her from across the table.

"What?" Aegis asked, eating her breakfast ham and eggs. "At least he's not shrieking about rabbits and waking up the whole inn at this hour."

Jaheira grunted. She was not impressed. Khalid looked a little more willing to forgive, but as usual most everyone failed to notice him. Aegis gave him a quick appreciative smile.

Chapter Text

Aegis wasn't sure she liked Oopah or Oompah or whatever the hell this Magical Vanishing Ogre's name was. She also wasn't sure if she liked the Great Gazib, the wizard who was supposedly causing the 'vanishing' of the ogre to occur. 'Vanishing' was a strong word; because it appeared Oopah was actually exploding each time the spell was cast and was then being put back together.

Imoen was hopping up and down laughing hysterically every time the monster vanished in an explosion of gory particulates. The carnival patrons found the spectacle so incredibly satisfying they goaded The Great Gazib performing this 'trick' into doing it over, and over, and over again. The ground was littered with sparkling coins thrown as tips for the performance.

"I see the ogre race has left an impression on you," Jaheira observed, and her voice wasn't quite so maddeningly angry as it had been a few minutes earlier.

"I think I hate them," Aegis agreed. "Every time this one explodes I can't decide if I want to laugh or cry."

"Traumatic experiences can affect us in perplexing ways," the druid agreed. "Spend some time studying your enemy, so that you can be better equipped for felling it next time it."

The two women heard a loud shriek and each tensed. The Magical Vanishing Ogre had apparently decided he would 'vanish' no more. With a mighty swing of his spiked mace he sent poor Gazib's brains out to join all those pretty gold coins on the carnival floor. Onlookers gaped in horror and then ran shrieking in all direction. People tripped on each other, babies were crying, and two men clocked heads and each wiped the other out. It was chaos!

Long before Jaheira or even Imoen who had been closest could react, Aegis was charging across the carnival, shrieking in furious rage.

Edwin, who despite his bitter and condescending demeanor at least had the curiosity to hurry up and see what horrors had befallen the party leader, came upon Aegis clinging to the ogre's back with one hand around his neck, savagely hacking open wound after wound with hand axe as he stumbled about and attempted to dislodge her. Imoen was using a wand to pepper him with magic arrows while Jaheira was diving close enough to grab Aegis's foot and cast a barkskin spell. Urso—not to be forgotten for all that he was quite small—was nibbling boldly at the ogre's bare feet, a superb distraction against a rather stupid adversary, who kept forgetting Aegis was attached to him in an effort to try and stomp a raccoon flat.

"Imbeciles," Edwin muttered.

Jaheira ducked under a sweep of the ogre's mace and then jumped backwards as a sizzling green bolt of acid went flying over her head and drove straight in the ogre's gut. He bellowed in pain and distress, only for Aegis's next axe blow to slam down on the back of his neck. The ogre coughed out blood and then tried to roar again, grabbing hard at one of her arms in an attempt to yank her off of his back. The second acid arrow sizzled straight into his exposed throat, and his lower jaw and upper collar dissolved into pitted drippings of mush.

The ogre wavered and then pitched forward, a significant portion of his skull splitting open upon impact with the ground. Aegis gave him a few more hacks for good measure and then shakily regained her feet, teeth bared, glaring at the corpse like it had personally offended her.

"It's dead." Edwin complained. "How you fools ever managed to survive a single day without me when even your quiet carnival evenings end up catastrophic... (Lumbering tart has the same mental weakness as the fool with the hamster, it seems)."

"Ogres," Aegis muttered, spat.

"Well, it's clear I was mistaken when I attempted to dissuade you from letting the mage join the party," Jaheira muttered aloud. "His temperament might leave much to be asked for, but at least he is reliable and effective."

"Why thank you (bird-brained little druidic toad)," Edwin growled. "How nice it is to be recognized for something. (Effective. Effective! That's it!? I am a wizard of Thay! I am so far beyond 'effective'-!)" He walked away from them as if offended.

"Er, Aegy?" Imoen asked after rounding up most of those gold coins on the ground.. "Aeeeggyy! Aegy-face! Yooohooo!" It took a few more seconds of hand-waving and yodeling before Aegis came back to herself with a little jump and then grunted and wiped her axe off on the fallen ogre.

"Sorry," Aegis muttered. "Um. Well. That was a great carnival experience. Where the tent of everlasting ale varieties?"

Imoen giggled. "Let's find that. Surely there must be one."

Jaheira rubbed her temple. "This sot of humor is growing old."

"Actually," Aegis amended, with a glance at where their newest wizard was pacing, "didn't he help? Let's get him some better wine. Sorry, Jaheira, but talking to you has him looking like a skunk climbed up his robes."

"Oh yeah, did you see those acid arrows? Of course you did! That was so awesome! I'm going to ask him all about how he did it!"

"I'm... sure he'll love that," Aegis answered dryly, doubting Edwin liked talking to other human beings about anything that didn't involve complementing himself. "I'm not sure about him, Imoen. Even though he just helped us, I get this feeling there's a possibility he will kill all of us if he can. Maybe you shouldn't bother him. We need him to stay... contented."

"Pfft, Aegy, he's like a dragon. A big scary fire-breathing dragon. But every dragon's weakness is flattery, and I'm as buttery as they come!" Imoen explained, paused, and reconsidered. "Wait, that sounded lewd..."

"So, you just want to make friends with the potentially catastrophically dangerous foreign wizard?"

"Ae, I heard those sounds coming from your bedroom last night; spare me lectures on 'catastrophic danger' and 'wizards.'"

The ranger was immediately chastised. "Yeah. That's fair."

"Hey, how would you feel if I slept with every attractive man we come across?"

Jaheira's head whipped around like she was part owl. Aegis glanced at her and immediately caught on something had happened between them, and Imoen might now be acting out of spite. "Confused?"

"Then you'd know exactly how I feel about what room everyone ended up in last night!" Imoen proclaimed cheerfully.

Aegis found this a little excessive; Xzar might have seemed a very odd choice of bedmate to everyone watching, but technically Aegis hadn't slept with any other man in her life. For Imoen to throw herself at every handsome face they came across would certainly have been an escalation. Garrick alone would have probably been sufficient. Still: her body, her choice? Jaheira was giving Aegis a look that very nearly begged her to prevent Imoen from making a terribly unwise mistake.

"Well," Aegis reasoned as Urso climbed up onto her shoulder, "Let me just say one and only one thing: If you catch something, and your vagina rots out of your body, and Xzar nabs it to try and use it in one of his potions, I'm going to tell you: "I told you so." Also, I won't force him to give you your bits back so you can bring them to a cleric for restoration. That negotiation is going to cost you a significant chunk of your sanity."

Imoen gave an absolutely horrified and thoroughly chastised expression. "Okay. Okay. You made your point. Wow, that mental image. Not going away..."

"Mhmm. Now I think you promised me something about 'alcohol'..." Aegis reminded her, crossing her arms over her chest.

Imoen giggled and hooked one of her arms into the crook of her sister's. "Very well, you win. Hey, Edwin! Let's get something to drink to celebrate how awesome your acid bolts were and that none of us got seriously injured!"

Montaron wanted to engage in some of the carnival's less wholesome pursuits, and that was how he found himself with Xzar in tow, visiting the gambling tents.

"Yeh mind telling me what in Cyric's name yer doin' with the nature brat?" he growled up at the madman, who was muttering to himself about the nefarious intentions of each and every unassuming farmer they passed.

"Why Montaron, whatever do you mean?" the wizard cooed.

"Yeh know exactly what I mean, we've got a job to do, and here we are visitin' a circus. Have you forgotten? This ain't a holiday! Yer the one who kept insistin' we travel with this group. Now I'm askin' ya, are we here right now cause its gonna help us do that job, or is it just cause you actually found some twat stupid enough to let you between her legs?"

"I don't think that's an appropriate question," the necromancer answered in a high-class and cloudy way.

"Damned to the hells what you think. We shoulda been talking to Kagain backed in Beregost when we had the chance. Now we've lost time rescuing this floozy witch dame from gnolls and gathering up all sorts of useless rift-raft. All we needs to be knowin' is where to place the true blame for this iron shortage. That's it!"

"Really? And who do you presume we ask, little dumpling man? The fools manning the top of the mine? The dead bodies within? Or do you think deep down in Nashkel's depths we might find an explanation lurking? Don't be foolish: I need them to reach those answers more than I need you."

"The hell's that supposed to mean, ya-" They had just entered the gambling tent, and a hooded man bumped hard into Xzar on his way out. Montaron broke off mid-insult with a snarl, whirling around to lunge at the man. He grabbed the other thief's wrist, twisting it and exposing Xzar's stolen belt purse.

For once, the Necromancer didn't need him to explain things in detail. It took the wizard a split second to recognize what had just happened, just long enough for the man to stammer out a curse. Then the wizard had snarled out a fountain of draconic, and his fingers were glowing blue and closing around the thief's neck.

Jaheira had gone off to find Khalid, and Aegis hadn't seen her since.

The ranger, Imoen, and Edwin hadn't been able to find a tavern, but they had found a purveyor of wine and other alcoholic beverages who was willing to offer them tastes of his wares provided they could show they had the gold to make a purchase.

They spent an hour or so in his tent, until Edwin and the wine seller had been able to thoroughly educate an ignorant Aegis of all the ins and outs of fine Faerun wine. Well, they were talking to Imoen too, but she wasn't really listening. She was being buttery, and by the gods it appeared it was working. Edwin seemed markedly less interested in blowing either woman's head off than he had at any point previously.

Of course that also probably had something to do with the fact that Edwin seemed very amenable to wine.

Aegis bought the three of them flasks of festively spiked apple cider, purchased a small keg under Edwin's supervision (with Imoen's silent thumbs up beyond his shoulder), and promised to visit the wine purveyor in Baldur's Gate if ever she made it that far north in her journeys. As they sauntered happily through the carnival, with enough alcohol in their bellies to cheer them, they found Dynaheir and Minsc standing outside of a tent. The Wychlaran was speaking with another woman gently and murmuring reassuring things to her. Edwin made a sour face but said nothing as Aegis steered them over to the group.

"What happened?" Imoen asked.

"A man of no good intention was threatening this lady!" Minsc pronounced. "And when taunted he turned like a fiend and assaulted us! There was much butt-kicking!"

"Oh really?" Edwin slurred. "And what did she do to incite him?"

"Nothing that I can determine," Dynaheir chimed. "He accused her of witchery."

"She's no Rashami," the Red Wizard scoffed.

"I repeat only his words," Dynaheir said with weighted patience.

"Then he's a fool and better off dead," Edwin dismissed with a wave. "A pity he wasn't better at spotting witches, or he might have done my job for me and I could be on my way home."

Minsc growled and his hand tightened on his sword, but Aegis interspersed herself between the two feuding foreigners. "Well, we just had a nice taste of wine and bought this keg. It's a bit heavy; Minsc do you think you could help me?"

"What? Of course! Anything for the leader of we heroic do-gooders!" he proclaimed, and then swiftly came over and whisked the keg off her shoulder as if it were a featherweight to settle it upon his own. He beamed happily at his service to the greater good.

"Well," Aegis sighed at Dynaheir and Imoen, "That makes this the second assault our party has weathered in a carnival. I'd have to say either this is a sign times are pretty bad, or an indication that we suck at avoiding trouble."

Dynaheir finished speaking with the woman, who seemed incredibly grateful and offered her savior a few trinkets in exchange for her help. The Wychlaran sent the woman on her way and then turned to look at Aegis. "Have thou seen any of our other party members?"

"Well Jaheira went off to find Khalid, but aside from that- ah, neverminded, I think I see them."

The woman was petrified. That is not to say that she was scared immobile with fright. Rather, she had quite literally been turned to stone. Garrick and Khalid had come upon here while traversing the carnival. Garrick had been struck with admiration for her features the moment he'd laid eyes upon her. Khalid had attempted to get a good idea for whether or not the woman was truly petrified or whether she was simply a highly realistic sculpture. He had seen petrified persons before, but without Jaheira he didn't feel he could be certain.

A man nearby offered them a Stone to Flesh scroll in order to restore the petrified woman, but the price he was charging was extortionate and when Garrick checked his pockets he found he was not carrying enough gold, and the man lost interest in talking to him.

Jaheira had arrived a short while later, and after a lengthy examination she determined the statue was quite certainly a petrified person. Together the three of them had enough money to purchase the scroll, but when she heard the price Jaheira became irritated. She began shouting at the purveyor for being of questionable moral character. By the end of thirty minutes, Garrick and Khalid were restraining the druid from jumping the man and beating him senseless with her quarterstaff.

When Aegis and the others finally did arrive, they spent some time listening to Garrick describe the situation in his long-winded and poetic manner.

-The damsel seemed to sigh, as if she knows not of her fate,
and the loathsome man who does have the ability to free her,
watches and does nothing, hoping to benefit from the bigheartedness
of a better soul than his, while the wind-

Minsc almost immediately went glassy-eyed and then, noticing that Jaheira was still trying to kill someone she probably oughtn't, he swaggered over and settled his keg down to help Khalid. Within thirty seconds, he had hoisted Jaheira up into the air and was holding her arms pinned to her side with the curve of just one of his large arms.

"Haha! Boo thinks maybe there are two feisty ones in this great adventure!"

"Let go of me, you gargantuan, addled fool!" Jaheira raged.

"I do protest thine assessment of mine companion!" Dynaheir pouted, coming up to frown at the druid woman. "We are not the ones assailing poor merchants!"

"This bastard has the means to help a woman, and yet stands by commanding prices from the highest bidder!" Jaheira howled.

Aegis frowned, her confusion compounding upon itself as she tried to follow Garrick's tale. After a few moments of listening to the bard's exposition and the druid's roaring, Aegis finally turned a puzzled gaze to Imoen and Edwin, hoping one of them was following the situation better than she was. Imoen gave her an equally baffled expression and shrugged, lifting her hands in an, "I have absolutely no clue what is going on," gesture.

Edwin was cradling his elbow in one hand and holding up his chin with the knuckles of the other, watching Garrick with an uncharacteristically patient bemusement. He turned a languid gaze back to the two women and lifted a brow, still pleasantly mollified by the alcohol they'd given him. Imoen made a mental note that Edwin and wine went well together.

"It seems this statue here is actually a petrified woman, and the scroll they need to revive her is owned by this man, who is charging a ridiculous fee."

"Aha!" cried Imoen, enlightened, "I can solve that! Just give me a moment." She tossed Aegis her cider, dashed off, and slipped into the shadows of the circus.

"Is she a cleric?" Edwin wondered dubiously.

"No," Aegis retorted, who settled down on a barrel with her cider to watch. Edwin raised a brow and nursed his own cider. The argument continued. Jaheira and Dynaheir trading insults, Minsc and Khallid attempting to deescalate, and a confused scroll-merchant standing awkardly nearby, likely wondering if he ought to be nervous that someone  might convince Minsc to kick his butt.

As Edwin and Aegis watched, Imoen materialized from behind a tent, tiptoed up behind the man, reached out, and nicked the Stone to Flesh scroll straight out of his left hand. Somehow he didn't even notice it was gone. Imoen backed up and made her way back around the tents in the area's periphery.

Edwin, aghast, looked to Aegis and asked: "How?"

Aegis gave a big shrug with both shoulders, and threw back the rest of her cider. "Beats me."

Garrick was still talking, only it appeared now his narration had transformed into an epic ballad. Jaheira and Dynaheir looked on the verge of a completely unnecessary cat fight.

"Tada!" proclaimed Imoen upon her return, loud enough to command the attention of everyone. "Look, I found that extra scroll we had in our bag all along," she proclaimed with a big and overstated wink. 

"Keep your hands away from my things!" Edwin hissed, backing up a step from her.

"Oh don't be all bubble-headed!" Imoen waved at him like he was silly. "I'd already been through your things thirty minutes tops after meeting you! Nice underwear by the way; they're silk right? They felt really comfortable!"

By the violated expression on the Thayan's face, he had absolutely no idea what to think or feel about that. He had too many options: He could have been lascivious or incensed; unaffected or cocky; angry or insulted; amused or complemented. But no, no, instead he muttered something in draconic in his cider... and then a fleet of bats materialized and swept past him, heading straight for one cocky pink thief.

Imoen spent the next few minutes extremely confused and shrieking hysterically, running about with a dozen bats in rapid pursuit.

Aegis nearly died of laughter, slapping her knee and sloshing cider.

The ex-petrified woman's name was Branwen, and no sooner had Jaheira cast the Stone to Flesh spell and released her from her curse, that the woman was praising Tempus and devoting herself to the party's service. The last person to have done anything like this was Garrick, and the offer left the party similarly flustered.

"We only wished to do a good deed," Jaheira said, and since the two of them hadn't ended up coming to blows it seemed Dynaheir and her were once more on the same side.

"Thou were in trouble; it was in our power to aid thee; we could not stand by and do nothing," the Wychlaran agreed.

"Nonsense! She is cleric of the war god!" Minsc boomed, throwing an arm in a companionably hug around the new woman and drawing his sword to waggle it about in the air. "She must join us! Together, we shall fight back evil men with strength and steel! For goodness!"

"Ye gods," Edwin muttered into a facepalm. "(Surrounded by fools, so many fools). We could, perhaps, use a healer."

"I care not the cause so long as it is one of valor," gushed Branwen enthusiastically. "I have no wish but to prove my worth in combat! Let me aid you in your journey! Whatever the task, whatever the weather, I shall not complain! Perhaps on the way we will come across the foul Lokispawn who tricked me into this fate and pay him back with my hammer!"

"Erm, this may be an indelicate question to ask the woman who loves hammers," Aegis said slowly, because Edwin over there had a point, "but do you have skill with healing?"

Branwen turned to her in surprise.

"You see we're investigating an iron crisis in the region, and that means heading down into mines that have been overtaken by some kind of monsters. We have three wizards, and a good assortment of people skilled with weapons, but Jaheira's the only person here who can heal and sometimes we get into really bad situations.

"Of course! To act as shield maiden to one's compatriots in combat is an honorable task!" Branwen agreed. "I shall ensure your battle lines never falter!"

"I want her," Aegis told them. "More importantly, I'm pretty sure the bludgeoning I took from an Ogre an hour ago has turned half my ribs purple, because I'm starting to feel it through the wine, and my acute bruising could probably use a cleric."

"I should be glad to help!" Branwen told her, and with that Aegis had no more bruises and the blonde highlander woman was most definitely hired.

The most obvious dilemma the party faced aside from overpopulation was that Branwen had been stripped of her armor when she'd been petrified. That meant the party had to fork up some money to buy her new things. Branwen was a large and sturdy woman, who with Aegis, Xzar, and Minsc ranked among the tallest members of the group. It would be difficult to find fitted armor sized perfectly for her proportions, but a good suit of chain or splint might temporarily suffice.

Too far south of Beregost to visit Thunderhammer smithy, the group realized they would have to either make their way back to Nashkel proper to visit the general store, or else look around the carnival for the necessary goods.

Imoen said she remembered seeing some tents advertising the sale of iron goods such as arms and armor, and pointed the party back towards the western side of the carnival. After a quiet moment talking to Aegis, Imoen (with her hair in quite the disarray from Edwin's reaction to her snooping) slunk off to try and steal an enchanted weapon (without the knowledge of a substantial portion of the party). The rest of the group headed west back into the carnival to try and find an armor salesman.

The group had just recognized the sigil of an armor smith planted out in front of a large striped tent, when they finally observed a cluster of Amnish soldiers gathered about an even larger tent in the northwestern section of the fairgrounds. The matter didn't seem to concern them at first, but Aegis paused and frowned that way.

Minsc and Khalid accompanied Branwen into the armor shop, with Garrick and Dynaheir in tow for companionship, and Edwin following them all suspiciously for no reason other than to invade their spirit of camaraderie and make veiled threats. Jaheira, who had little interest in the metal trinkets of civilization, remained outside to consider the twisting path their journey had taken them thus far, and all the unusual people they had surrounded themselves with on the way. They were turning into a truly sizable party, perhaps multifaceted and talented enough to deal with the Nashkel threat- if no one killed anyone else before then!

Aegis lagged in entering, and not because she was disinterested in whatever gear Branwen needed. She was no lightweight, and her senses hadn't been addled enough by weak cider and wine testing to forget her party was still missing two of its most controversial members. Hmm.

She turned and walked from the tent, heading towards the Amnish soldiers. The place beside them, she found, was a gambling tent. Some poor fellow had been attacked, she gathered, and the soldiers had dragged him out of the tent to determine whether he could be helped.

Peering over their shoulders, Aegis observed that the 'poor fellow' had ugly black-colored bruises around his neck and jawbone, and the color of his skin was blue with hypothermia. There were cracks in his flesh and his skin had a strangely raw and blistered appearance. Despite all of this he was breathing, and it looked like he might actually pull through the ordeal.

"You there!" called a guard, stomping up to investigate her presence. "The gambling tent is closed!"

"I recognize the spell that was used on this man," Aegis explained. "Is the wizard who cast it under arrest?"

"We are investigating the matter!" the man sniffed at her accent, which apparently carried just enough northern flavor to deliver a bad first impression. "What concern of it is yours? Get out of here."

"The wizard's my party member," Aegis stood firm. "He should have a slightly grungy looking halfling with him. I'm sure they wouldn't have attacked a man without provocation." Oh boy, Oghma, that was a bald-faced lie and I know it. Please forgive me, and please let them have been attacked first.

Multiple guards were now frowning at her. "Your party member? That man? The one with the face paint? The insane one who keeps chattering nonsense?"

"Yeah he does that when he's anxious," Aegis half-fibbed. "Is he alright?"

"He and his accomplice attacked this man. They said their motive was that he had stolen from them, but we've found no evidence of that!" A second guard was looking up her down and interject, "Aren't you the leader of that party that was 'attacked' in the inn a few days back? It seems trouble follows you..."

"Trouble does, and I am," she dismissed, unconcerned with poorly veiled accusations. "Which one of them did this guy steal from?" Aegis asked. "If I remember, my wizard's coin purse is green cloth, the same color as his robes. He has about a hundred gold worth of gem and coin on him. The halfling's purse is just black leather but I've no idea how much he's carrying. Is that accurate? Did you find either purse on the alleged thief? Did he have a second coin purse of his own that might prove they're telling the truth?"

Aegis crossed her fingers behind her back and prayed to Ohgma (please, please, please) that someone had indeed tried to rob the duo and not the other way around.

One guard seemed taken aback. He walked over to talk to another soldier, and they spoke in low tones and nodded or shook their heads a few times.

"Hey," piped up the other guard. "Are you the one who handled the ogre? We heard reports, civillians said it was a big blonde woman..."

"Yeah, sorry about the mess, I guess?" Aegis sighed. "He got his coworker before he could do anything, though or... whatever the hell that relationship was. I had to limp off and get a drink at the wine tent after."

They bent back to discussing with one another. A moment later, the original guard returned to Aegis and gestured that she should follow him. He led her into the gambling tent. There, much to her relief, she found Xzar and Montaron with their arms bound behind them. Montaron had been roughed up a little and Xzar had been gagged, the latter of which was exceptionally understandable; but otherwise the two seemed unharmed.

"I left you alone for two hours," Aegis chastised them in greeting. "The hell happened?" She looked back to the guards to see if it was alright for her to approach, and she received a nod at about the same time a man knelt down to release Montaron's bonds.

"We were robbed, is what!" the halfling snarled, jerking his hands away from the guard as soon as they were untied and rubbing his shoulder vexedly. "And then these bastards jumped us and accused us of assault!"

"Calm down, calm down," Aegis protested his tone of voice, especially when the Amnish guards had just released them without so much as imposing a fine for disorderly conduct. She approached the duo and knelt down to offer Montaron a hand up. He took it with a huff. That was when she noticed no guard moved to untie Xzar. 

"Ya know, maybe leave the gag in!" Montaron snapped spitefully as he picked up his gear and sheathed a knife. "Keep him from makin a racket while he's all wound up!"

"Whole carnival to enjoy and you're off getting arrested," Aegis muttered reproachfully, as if she or Dynaheir or Jaheira had done any better, and hunkered down over Xzar and took the quivering man's face in both hands. Xzar was halfway ready to wet himself with anxiety and excitement.

"Oh fuck you, nature-brat," Montaron muttered. "Imma need more than a half pint of ale just to settle me temper! What's the use of guards what can't stop a thief?"

"Xzar? Xzar. Look at me. Look at me," Aegis coaxed, her voice becoming lower and more commanding until finally the necromancer's gaze riveted on her and didn't instantaneously flit away again. "There. Now, I'm going to untie you and take the gag out of your mouth. I don't want to hear a word. Not to shriek, no draconic, no spellcasting; you are already in deep enough trouble. Got it?"

The necromancer narrowed his eyes at her as if slightly insulted. Aegis lifted her brows. "I could just carry you back to the tavern like this," she warned him "Oghma help me, I will." Montaron glanced back at the two of them as he stood and dusted himself off, disturbed out by their familiarity with one another and at the same time curious at how Aegis might manage to elicit a sane response from an insane wizard.

Xzar glanced at the ground for a moment and then looked back up at her and nodded slowly in comprehension. Aegis grunted, kissed his brow, and then leaned over him and untied the cloth strip that was gagging him. Xzar made a disgusted face as it slipped free and sloppily smacked his lips together, trying to wet his dehydrated mouth and get the taste of the rag off his tongue. Aegis laughed at his expression, untied his hands, and then pulled the docile mage up to his feet.

"Your... coin purse, sir," one of the guards said dryly, stepping forward with the pilfered goods and offering them to Xzar. The necromancer paused and looked down at the green bag as if it was a snake. He glanced suspiciously up at the guard and no doubt would have said something bizarre and incomprehensible to anyone present if he weren't currently bound to a promise of silence. A moment later he reached forward slowly and then quickly snatched back the purse, hoarding it to himself and opening it with paranoid fervor to inspect the contents.

Knowing that her insane companion was likely on the verge of a nonsensical fit, Aegis thanked the guard and then gently tugged Xzar out by the elbow. Montaron followed grumpily.

They walked for a few moments in silence, until they were far enough away form the tent and out of ear shot that Montaron didn't feel talking would look suspicious, and then the halfling trotted up close beside her and whispered in wide-eyed surprise, "How the devil did you manage to get us out of that? Blasted guards. I steal a thousand purses and only get arrested when someone tries to steal mine..."

"Well, your innocence helped," Aegis muttered dryly. "I think I managed to accurately guess exactly what was stolen. Also, I'm a lot prettier and have a nicer and more compliant temperament than you do when dealing with authority."

Montaron laughed. "I'll believe that. How did you even know it was us that were in trouble?"

"I recognized Xzar's handiwork. For the rest of my life if I see anyone with bruises on the neck who died from hypothermia I will be able to list cause of death as: Strangled by crazy necromancer using some variant of a chill touch spell," Aegis teased. Xzar gave her a piteous look, desperately wanting to talk. "Hmm? Oh! Okay. You can talk, now. But please don't shriek, I'm on the verge of a headache."

Xzar frowned at the request and gnawed on his thumb as he thought for a moment. Then he smiled at her. "Thank you."

"For getting you out of trouble?"

"For recognizing my spells! That's very thoughtful of you. I mean, most laymen don't care to notice at all! Even sorcerers are culprit! Anyone who doesn't study the art through book and diagram is so ignorant. It's so aggravating! Once I was dealing with this cleric and I told him it was the blackguard which done it! All the evidence was there! But no, no, he just couldn't be bothered to recognize the charred state of the intestines, and what with the assassin lurking about no one could- "

"You're welcome, Xzar," she told him, and grabbed him by the shoulder to pull him to her so she could place a second smooch on his temple. The necromancer's breath caught in his throat, but then he hummed contently at the physical contact, his agitation forgotten.

"Yelcome, welcome, zelcome," the tall man muttered dreamily, and despite all his instability he slipped a hand up behind her and settled his fingers on her lumbar region in an affectionate or at least possessive manner. Montaron probably wrinkled his nose or made other disgusted expressions, but he was now walking behind them and Aegis couldn't quite see.

Jaheira was also not happy to observe the two of them touching when the trio returned back to the armory tent. Maybe the sight of their physical contact made Aegis's ill-advised partnership with the wizard all the more 'real.' From the looks of them it seemed Montaron had found the very first thing on which he and the druid could actually agree on.

Chapter Text

[Past]

"Daddy! Where do babies come from?"

Gorion looked like he had just tasted another batch of Imoen's notoriously potent lemonade.

"Daddy? Daddy? Where did I come from?"

He winced. With two questions, Aegis had turned a powerful old wizard's day upside down. Such was her talent, he supposed.

[Present]

When they were back at the Belching Dragon, Aegis sat down with a glass of Edwin's chosen wine and toasted the Thayvian for his contribution to the cause. The praise seemed to calm him down a bit.

Ever since Aegis had left the Thavian behind at the armory with Dynaheir and Minsc, the two groups had been shooting vicious looks at one another. Someone must have said something insulting, because it looked like Edwin was ready to try his luck at any moment. 

Aegis shot Imoen a look; she'd likely witnessed whatever had set the two factions off, and now looked to be embroiled in damage control. This time she was chatting up Dynaheir, basic questions: What's your homeland like, what's the weather like this kind of year, why do Rashemi go on pilgrimages to foreign lands.' Dynaheir seemed receptive.

Edwin was into a second cup of wine and didn't look to have lost his edge at all. Aegis put that in her mental notes: Not all wizards were lightweights who could be toppled by a mug of mead. 

Xzar seemed to sense  Aegis was on the verge of a non-alcohol-related headache, and after a moment of watching her he reached over and gently touched her temple to alleviate it.

"While the mines may indeed be our destination," Jaheira was saying, "we have four relatively new part members. We should perhaps spend a day replenishing our lost funds and acclimating ourselves to our new fighting structure. Especially if we are going to head down into the confined dangers of the mine's enclosed spaces."

Imoen found this funny; Jaheira had been the person complaining most about every waste of time, and now here she was counseling them to delay.

"The general store manager mentioned a bounty on Winter Wolf pelts," Aegis recalled. "And I'm sure if we ask around town we'll find work."

"Winter wolves? So far south?" Edwin said slowly, clearly not well-versed in the local fauna but willing to make a guess this was unusual.

"Seems like everything's a wolf these days," Imoen agreed. "Dire wolves, regular wolves, worgs; now a big bad blizzard breathing puppy? Well! Some things are just easier with more than one person!" she trilled.

"Sad but true," the Red Wizard hissed into his wine.

"Hey!" exclaimed Garrick excitedly; he had apparently recognized someone across the tavern. "Hey, I think that's Volo."

"The writer?" Imoen perked up immediately.

"Of dangerously flippant travel guides?" Jaheira asked moodily.

"The bard!" Garrick exclaimed. "Volothamp Geddarm!"

"Maybe this'll distract our bard for the evening," Montaron dared to hope and then rolled his eyes and muttered a curse under his breath when, instead, Garrick attempted to bring the man over to where they were sitting.

"You all seem to dislike your bar," Branwen said slowly, puzzled with her new party. "Why do you not simply ask him to leave?" 

"Well, it's not that we dislike Garrick, exactly," Imoen said tactfully. "It's that we worry he might be a little bit in... over his head..."

"I see. You fear that he shall stumble at some crucial time in battle? Or that he shall become harmed due to inexperience?" the cleric guessed.

"Sommmetthingg like that..."

"He annoys the shit out of everyone," Montaron disagreed flatly.

Volo's name was on many of the best Guides to the Realm, Abridged Histories, and Laymens Explanations of the Arcane available in Candlekeep, and had been in use both by Candlekeep tutors and freely available to check out from the library.

For two girls cooped up behind stone walls all their lives, his work had been a window into countless exotic locales- even if Gorion had always cautioned them to take his tales with a grain of salt, because while Volo wasn't a liar, he was definitely a storyteller first and an investigative reporter second. Some tales had to be added to or subtracted from to interest a wider audience, and Volo always played to the room.

That said, while both were curious to see such a man up and about, neither would have recognized him on sight, and they certainly weren't star-struck the way Garrick was. Imoen did move seats to get a little closer, and it turned out Volo was as good telling stories in person as he was on paper. Maybe Garrick, who'd they'd seen go ridiculously long-winded with poetic verse, could pick up a lesson or two in how to deliver a narrative in an impactful and concise manner.

What interested the party most, however, was that Volo had a surprisingly in-depth memory for everything afoot in Nashkel. Better, even, than a barkeeper. He knew most things of interest, who was hiring, what scandals were afoot, who'd recently gone mad, and what assorted items had been stolen. In under an hour, they had an itinerary of places to check out and persons to assist, and many more than one way to make a bit of gold.

Garrick agreed to check out each and every new task enthusiastically, even as obviously no one had deputized him to do so. This was harmless, so Aegis listened casually from nearby and didn't stop him. Most of the party was doing likewise. Imoen was trying not to laugh at how silly he was being in front of his idol. Jaheira was into a second mug of ale, shrewd eyes narrowed at in Volo's general direction. Xzar was starting to make exaggerated gagging faces. Minsc was consulting a hamster as to what some of Volo's bigger words meant. 

Volothamp was in the middle of describing random persons of interest, something about a miner named Joseph whose wife wanted some word of him, and of course Garrick was happily pledging his sureness that the entire party would help track down this singular man, when finally Xzar signaled he had once more had his fill of bards:

"Ugh! Why must you constantly goad us into other people's affairs!?" Xzar groaned in disgust. "Can you not simply let us mind our own enterprise?"

"Spoken like a man without morals," Jaheira growled, almost reflexively; because she clearly had no patience for repetitive prattle and blind optimism, and Volo was giving her a wide berth almost like he'd met her before and didn't want to repeat the experience. 

"Oi, the she-bitch is growling again," Montaron grumbled ominously. "You sure you want to start up this old dance?"

"Even with your love of poisons and subterfuge, I have little to fear from you," Jaheira told him, not backing down from the veiled threats. "This party would be better—safer!—without your continued influence."

"Jaheira," Aegis growled.

"I begin to see your true nature and it is as I expected!" Xzar snarled. "None are insufferably righteous as-"

"Xzar," Aegis spat, sitting upright and slamming the butt of her mug down hard on the table. The necromancer jumped in surprise and looked at her with frowning curiosity. Edwin and Dynaheir were watching from the wings of the table like deeply invested spectators, as if waiting to see how she would handle the sudden threat of infighting. So Aegis spoke to the whole table: "All of you, we left this argument in Beregost with the bandits. Calm down. We have a lot of new prep work to do before we're ready for those damn mines, and we can't have anyone losing their head once we're down there."

Jaheira looked bitterly down at her food and drink and crossed her arms over her chest. She wasn't happy, but she had already accepted the rules. Khalid had never been much inclined to fight to begin with. Montaron remained comfortably eased back in his seat; his posture seemed to suggest he was comfortable enduring their eclectic party because he knew where he stood, and he saw Aegis weilding enough clout to keep everyone else in line.

Xzar, regrettably, was less inclined to fall in line. "I want her eyes!" the necromancer hissed, begged, snarled. "Let me have them, it will only take a minute! It's not like she deserves them anyway, and I've such the lovely experiments to conduct with infravision!"

"Ha! Let him try!" Jaheira laughed without mirth, "Mages of his ilk deserved to be shove clear back into the graves they rob. There is nothing he has to give this party but a poison that should be expunged."

"Xzar," Aegis growled disapprovingly, turning slowly in her seat to squint at him.

Around her, companions had different reactions. Dynaheir lifted a brow and look questioningly to Jaheira; possibly she was 'asking' whether Xzar's words were to be taken seriously or dismissed as harmless ravings. Edwin sipped wine and waited, as if he hoped Xzar might actually start something and give him the cover he needed to handle his own business. Branwen looked from side to side of the conflict, as if privately almost a little eager to see some fighting, but uncertain which side she planned to join in on if they did.

(Garrick was the only one who noticed Volo had a notepad out and was scribbling furiously to capture the jist of the moment's dialog.)

"I. Haaaate. Heerrrrr...!" the necromancer purred viciously, gaze fixed on Jhaiera, and the sound of his entreaties made Khalid glower and reach defensively for his sword. "Let me, let me, please please please?" Xzar looked at Aeigis, a manic expression blastered across his face and his fingers clenched and quivering eagerly up beside his teeth as he tried to restrain his excitement.

"This is the company you keep," Jaheira told Aegis flatly, lifting a hand out demonstratively as if the younger woman should be ashamed.

"You need to calm down," Aegis told Xzar patiently, earning a pout from the painted man. "Come on. Calm down. You already know my answer." The necromancer bit at his knuckle and then hissed out his disappointment. He edged away from her to glower down at his relatively uneaten meal, shaking slightly from nerves and displeasure.

Aegis's gaze swept the table and finally settled back on Jaheira. The ranger leaned her cheek on one palm, and in posture and tone conveyed nonchalance; she was still in charge even over the most volatile components of their group, and Jaheira needed to not test her. "Please let me know when you're ready to stop trying to kill my wizard and start focusing on getting us through Nashkel," Aegis drawled. "I've enough on my plate without you deliberately antagonizing someone you know responds ungraciously to it."

Jaheira scowled, leaned back in her chair, and said no more.

"Right. Thanks." She made sure that was the end of the conversation. Montaron seemed happy enough and though Khalid was watching Xzar warily he had taken his hand off his sword. Dynaheir was trying to talk with Jaheira, and Branwen seemed to find the whole thing odd but the resolution satisfactory.

Seeing that everything was successfully deescalating, Aegis turned back to investigate Xzar and hopefully pull him out of whatever problematic train of thoughts he was spiraling into. She glanced him up and down when he didn't notice the attention. "You need to eat more," she told him in a lowered volume.

Xzar jumped slightly and then squirmed in his seat in an exaggerated manner. "I don't want to," he whined quietly. "What if I get fat? I don't want to be eaten."

"No one here is going to eat you," Aegis reassured him in an equally quiet voice. "And if you don't put on some more weight one day you'll just blow away. A thin bowl of fish soup or some toast and jam is not enough to keep a man healthy."

"Enough to keep one alive," the wizard giggled to himself.

Aegis shifted reached over and placed a hand gently up onto his (much-too-thin) thigh. The necromancer twitched and shifted about in his seat, looking a little uncertain about the touch. Then, abruptly, he scooted back up beside her again, and turned inquisitive green eyes back to her face.

"Okay," he murmured, pulling his plate along to settle it properly in front of him and then reaching forward to pick up a fork. "But only if you taste it first to make sure it isn't poisoned."

Aegis reached out for his fork immediately. "If it is poisoned," she asked rhetorically, "won't I die by eating it?" She started stabbing up food.

"Of course not," he hissed at her as if she were stupid. "But if I eat it first and it is poisoned, what good are you going to be in figuring out the antidote while I'm foaming at the mouth and writhing all over the floor, hmm?!"

"So if I were poisoned, you wouldn't let me die? And here I thought you'd just harvest my liver. It's good to know where we stand on that."

"No," he whispered grumpily, brows furrowed at his plate. "If you die, there won't be a liver. Or anything else. You will dissolve into dust. No gentle repose; no revive; nothing will fix that. But most likely if the food is poisonous, it will just be botulism. We are certainly not expecting arsenic. Though I always expect the unexpected, you know. That's the secret to longevity."

Aegis paused, staring at the necromancer for a moment. Then she ate a bite from each food group on his plate, turned the fork over, picked up his hand, and placed the fork firmly into his grasp.

Xzar proceeded to give her a grueling quiz about whether there had been any 'unusual flavors.' It took about fifteen minutes of highly precise answers to satisfy him, and then he begrudgingly took the fork back and set about to trying his meal.

After a few bites he seemed to warm up to the idea of successfully eating, because he picked up the pace. He remained beside her and in fact wormed slightly up against her to increase the physical contact between them. Aegis finished up her own meal and drank a bit more of her wine. Then, seeing as the rest of the party was distracted by far more benign conversations, she gave his leg a little squeeze and turned her head to speak in quiet tones she was sure only he'd hear.

"When you're done," she murmured in a soft voice, "why don't we go back to the inn so we can have some time to talk in private...?"

The wizard paused and considered the offer for a moment, before turning to favor her with a suspicious expression and wiggling slightly in his seat. "Talk? No one ever wants to talk with me. Is that secret code for 'have sex on the dresser again' Little Death?"

Aegis was not expecting quite so lucid a response, and she gaped at him; she was taken aback and could feel a heat rising on her face. Xzar grinned toothily at her expression and then gulped down a mouthful of mead to wash down his food.

"I'm not sure you've thought this one through," the wizard cooed playfully to her as he lowered the cup again. "Are you positive you know what you're doing? And in that case, is it out of a perverse sense of loyalty, or do you just like watching the druid seethe? Because I could support the latter! But as to the former, there are other men who would be happy to keep you warm, I think."

"Not... really interested in men as bedwarmers..." Aegis observed slowly, while thinking back to Imoen's strange questions the morning before.

"Loyalty, then? What silly, silly notions did some silly, silly monks put in your head, Little Death? I think they'd be happy to forgive one or two accidental little... tumbles... in the sheets, mm, yes? Especially if it meant finding a more... palatable... candidate for your attentions?"

"Well, I..." For once, Xzar had successfully confused her. She wasn't sure what he meant to her, if anything. Half the time she had to baby him like some sort of demented overgrown child. The man was crazy. But she'd be lying if she said she didn't get some kind of warmth or enjoyment from looking after him. She certainly liked the look of him, for reasons whose specificities escaped her.

"Which do you think you'd preferrrrr," Xzar drawled, sizing up the more adventurous patrons of the Belching Dragon Tavern, "man or elf? I do recommend trying an elf or two! You know, even if you're not interested in trying a bite..."

When Aegis had ended up with Xzar in Beregost, she'd been originally trying to sleep with Garrick. The bard no longer interested her at all. Not even slightly. And neither did anyone else for the moment. Xzar interested her. And yes, that would do. She was okay with that. It probably wouldn't serve as the foundations for anything long term or meaningful, but since Xzar had taken up residency in her bedroll she'd been quite content. The only thing bothering her now was she had an... itch... she'd like to have scratched... And she didn't have nearly enough experience to have gotten bored with it yet.

"I did actually want to talk with you," she told him slowly, because he'd just given a strangely lucid description of her turning to dust should she die. "Even if I expected something else, dresser-based or otherwise, would occur in the middle somewhere."

Xzar lowered his gaze to her in surprise and leaned his chin on the back of his hand. "Maybe not loyalty then... maybe dominance. Maybe consistency, availability, re-usability..." he decided.

Aegis sighed. "Maybe just forget I said anything."

"Maybe rent a nicer bed," he retorted, and one of his hands abruptly began to wander over her back and to trace muscles and bone. The touch made the hairs on the back of her neck prickle and she sat up straight.

"Done," she grit out, now thoroughly interested again. A lifetime cloistered within the monastary's protective walls had done nothing to prepare her for what it felt like to desire the physical intimacy of another person. The thing that really pushed her over the edge was the nervous or even shy look that overtook the wizard's expression. Why he should look shy was beyond her; by his own admission he was no stranger to the mechanisms of sex. Perhaps she'd ask him. But suffice to say, that expression sent predatory and protective ripples down her spine. The sensation was like a thunderous storm brewing up inside her. It was thrilling.

She watched him as he finished up his food, observing every bite. Her thoughts wandered curiously through a number of fantasies until the limits of her experience curtailed her imagination. Then coherent thoughts began fading all together, and she became more aware of the dull pulse in her legs and belly. The delicate, discrete way he was taking each bite off the fork was making her simultaneously impatient and delighted.

If Xzar lost his train of thought on her now, she might actually haul him off his feet and carry him back to the inn.

She blinked rapidly and then looked up to his eyes, realizing he'd spoken to her and she hadn't been listening. "Finished," he repeated with a curious tilt of his head. Aegis stared at him for a moment. Then she paid for their food, grabbed the wizard by the hand, and led him out into the evening air. Xzar hummed, pleased, and followed her despite the rest of the party's grimaces, and a bewildered and disbelieving glance from Branwen.

Aegis paid for a merchant class room. She transferred their things with a little help from Xzar. They turned in the old key and then returned to the new room, and she'd hemmed him into the bed before the door had even swung closed behind them.

"Ah! See? See? I told you. You never want to talk," the necromancer giggled, holding up his hands in protest of her advance and then huffing when she forced him down onto the edge of the bed and then clambered on over top of his lap.

"After," the ranger muttered, grasping at his face and shoulders and pressing her mouth down to claim his. "After, after," she muttered between kisses, "I promise, after."

The wizard wormed under her, a grimace and a laugh both working their way across his mouth. His fingers flit up to assess her, molding over her curves and then slipping in to undo the laces and buckles of her armor. "Maybe I don't want to digress," he said. "Maybe I don't want to touch you, Little Death."

Aegis growled at such sacrilege, nipping at the wizard's throat when he tilted his head back to deny her kisses. She pushed him down to the bed, growling needily into his flesh. An excited huff escaped his lips, but then he writhed and winced, his hands dripping free of her armor.

"Don't. Don't. Don't touch me," he muttered under her ministrations. "Lit-Mn."

Her heartbeat pounding in her eardrums was drowning out almost everything; so she didn't really register that he'd spoken. She nibbled his heated skin, delighting in every hitch and heave of his breath.

He repeatedly his quiet plea again, more desperately this time, his fingers fisting into the blankets. Aegis perked up, registering that he'd spoken. Uncertain what to make of him, she noticed the lines of tension in his jaw and forearms, and the pained expression on his face. "Stop," he whispered something very familiar, although his voice did not change in pitch, "s-stop touching me...!"

You have to be kidding me. No? ... Fuck.

Aegis lowered her head for a moment, trying to get a handle on her own breathing, her own need. Then she looked back up at him in disbelief for a long moment. Dismayed, she realized she could feel him trembling under her fingertips. Whatever was going through the madman's head, he and she were currently not on the same level.

"Hey," She muttered and her voice crackled. She cleared her throat, slowly pushing herself up onto all fours to look down at him. The cool air that passed between them was torture. She wanted to smother him with herself. "Hey... hey, it's okay... I'm not touching you. I'm not touching you, see? Xzar..."

The wizard shuddered, peering up at her and squirming a pace in retreat. The smell and sight of him, partially aroused and laid out beneath her, were almost too much for her to bear.

"It's okay," she murmured reassuringly all the same, loosing her tension in a shaky breath. "I won't hurt you." He grimaced at her as if 'not hurting' was insufficient; as if he was still trying to collect what little he ever had of his wits. Still working to reign in on the primitive drive to smother this man, Aegis slowly pushed herself back up to her knees and took stock of him.

He looked absolutely miserable. She stared at him, struggling to digest that expression, for the better part of a minute, and then she groaned and smeared her fingers over her face and hair. Gathering up the resolve she needed, Aegis slipped first one leg back off the bed, then the other. She stepped back away from him, giving the space he needed to recover in. "I'm off," she muttered with a heavy sigh, still conscious of a pulse between her thighs. "I'm off, are you okay?"

The wizard stared quietly at the ceiling for a long moment. Then he propped himself up on one elbow, sinuously, and lifted his gaze to her. "I have a choice?" he asked.

Aegis rocked unsteadily from foot to foot, not certain how to answer him. Then she blew out a defeated sigh and walked slowly around the foot of the bed, coming up to the other side. Xzar twisted about to watch her and then sat entirely upright, looking confused.

"What are you doing?" he asked as she sat her rump unceremoniously down and leaned over to unlace her boots.

"Getting ready for bed," she muttered helplessly. "You should, too."

"I don't want to sleep with you!" he hissed.

"Well, you don't have to. Go rent another room," she answered as calmly as she could, pulling her armor off piece by piece and dropping them into heaps on the floor. "I'll survive. My dreams will suck, but hey, nothing new there..."

Xzar squirmed, vexed and frustrated with her. "You..." he pouted, looking for something to say before finding: "You said you wanted to talk."

Aegis paused and looked up at him with a slightly ragged expression. "Can I jerk off first?" she asked in a tight voice. "Because after that I'm not exactly sure I'm going to be able to focus on a conversation."

Her wizard stared at her uncertainly, (and possibly wondering if their genders had been reversed if this would have been an appropriate question). "Should I leave?"

Aegis shrugged, not exactly sure what was to be considered polite or normal when one was sleeping with a madman. She pulled off the rest of her armor and dropped it in a heap before leaning backwards into the pillows. "I guess you don't... have to. As I'd be doing it to thoughts of you..."

That startled him. "What? But maybe I don't want you to!" he snapped petulantly.

"Okay..." she sighed. "Who would you like me to think about?" she asked, easing open the front of her trousers and digging a hand down for access. "And for the sake of the gods, don't say 'killing things'."

Xzar frowned unhappily. He looked a little shaken by what he was witnessing, and after a brief moment he crawled up to where she was. He looked down at where her fingers disappeared into her drawers and then lifted pale green eyes back to her face with a truly baffled expression. "You don't make any sense at all," the necromancer chastised her at a mumble.

Aegis retracted her hand slightly, a little uncomfortable with the idea of what she'd planned to do with him so near and so clearly upset. "I... have no idea what you're expecting of me, honestly," she admitted.

"Why are you asking me to pick what you think about while you're masturbating?"

"While I'm what? Oh." She looked down a little guiltily, and winced back up at the man as if it should be a little more obvious. "Because you are-... Because you're sort of..." she had initially intended to use the words 'my lover,' but in retrospect such phrasing was only weakly supported by their previous evenings together, "...with me...? I don't know. It made more sense in my head."

He stared at her, looking spooked and troubled. Aegis reflected his gaze for a moment. Then, feeling even guiltier, she grimaced and sat herself up straight against the bed headboard, removed her hand from her pants, and composed herself. "I'm listening," she said. "What did you want to tell me?" His eyes narrowed distrustfully, so she tried to jog his memory: "You said something about me turning to dust at dinner."

The question visibly worked: His mind latched onto hit and he looked askance across the room to think back and consider. "I've only seen it once myself," he said slowly, "but I've heard the reports from others." He sat slowly back into a cross-legged pose, and then leaned his elbows on his knees and supported his chin on his knuckles as he internally compiled what he knew. "Most don't know what they are, like you, mm? But they find out soon enough when they're watching their own skeletons disintegrate before their eyes. The blood evaporates even as the consciousness holds on for a few moments past death. Then the soul is reabsorbed, and lost with the body. Into what? The sire? The killer? Unclear. Brilliant architecture, either way. One chance is all each gets..."

Aegis frowned, studying his moody and thoughtful complexion. It was difficult to take Xzar's chatter as seriously at most times, but he'd been talking repeatedly on this and seemingly adjacent subjects for well over a month. She doubted Xzar could have given the same story so consistently if the necromancer were simply raving. Something... something was the matter with her. And Xzar, to the best of his ability, was trying to tell her about it.

Aegis' thoughts went back to Gorion. What had her father been hiding from her? If it was so big, so important, how could not have left her any clues? How had he justified the possibility she'd wind up alone in the world with no information about what was hunting her or why? He must have intended to tell her soon, if not on the road than after they'd reached the Friendly Arm Inn.

Aegis drew her knees up to her chest and held them worriedly. She missed Gorion. It was easier on days she managed not to think about him. "My father was trying to explain the situation to me while we were walking," she reflected, giving each remembered word new weight. "But we were ambushed before he could tell me why we had to flee."

"Foster father," Xzar stressed, and Aegis frowned.

"Father," she disagreed. "A foster father is what some brat orphan kid calls the blacksmith who's training him to take over the heavy duties when he gets old. Gorion was more than that. He was my real father. He loved me like a real daughter."

"Then call him whatever you want, Little Death," the necromancer allowed, "but if he were your blood father, you wouldn't be worth all this excitement."

"How can you know anything about me?" she asked him, with some bitterness. "Why is there anything to know?"

"Because, like I've said, you are not the only one," Xzar told her haughtily, his pale eyes drifting along her frame as if appraising an object or animal rather than a person. "And you're not the first I've been... acquainted with... either... As a specialist in death, I took it upon myself to devote a few... curious hours... to help along the study of such topics."

Aegis watched him uncertainly. "I see..."

He slipped closer to her then, uncrossing his legs and creeping up on all fours. He sat delicately down on reaching her, and a languid gaze moved up and down her body as delicate fingertips rested gently on her shin. "Though that examination was carried out with knives... I heard the master was quite surprised when all his samples were later rendered as dust. I think he'd be happy to have the opportunity to collect new ones."

Aegis grabbed his wrist, earning a startled expression from the wizard. It was replaced with surprise when she hauled him up closer to her, and he struggled under her grasp.

"Let go-!" he breathed frantically, switching personalities so hard she assumed it must have cause some psychological whiplash.

Ignoring his struggles, Aegis lowered her head and placed a warm kiss to the back of his hand. The gestured earned her an inarticulate gush of sound from her wizard.

Trembling, Xzar crawled up from his submissive pose to push even closer to her. Aegis lowered her legs and released his hand to get both her arms around his back. He was shaking. The shakes didn't let up. She pulled him tightly into her bosom and slipped a forearm up behind the back of his neck to support his head and stroke through his hair. He didn't move to hug her back, but he nestled into her with his arms mostly pinned in front of himself and his fingers clinging to her shirt. A few minutes passed in relatively silence aside from the wizard's shaky breathing.

"It's okay," she whispered reassuringly into messy graham hair, and his brows furrowed tightly over closed eyes. "You keep acting like you know you've lashed out and expect to be hit for it, but that's not me."

"Nothing's you. I don't know why you put up with me, I don't understand you at all," he mumbled unhappily, and then pressed his face into her and inhaled as if in pursuit of her scent. She imagined the majority of it must have been sweat and wheat beer. 

Aegis squeezed him tighter and smiled a bit, because whether Xzar meant those words the way they sounded or not, hearing them was endearing. "Why do I put up with you? Because you're terrifyingly adorable," she told him with a kiss on the temple. "And adorably terrifying. But mostly addrifyingly teorable."

The hummed into her at that and wormed up an arm to twine it about the back of her neck and up into her hair. "You aren't afraid of me," he murmured introspectively. "You should be. Why not? It's different from the typical reasons. Is it naivety?"

Aegis rubbed her cheek lightly into his forearm. "Well, your favorite spells all involve you successfully grabbing on to someone. So I reason if you attack me, I could just break your arms. And maybe your legs. Does that make you feel better?"

He peered up at her. "Well..."

"Also you have state you are disinclined to injure me and find me interesting. I take reassurance in that, you know. I don't have to be anything like you, in order to like you," she offered him. "I just need you not to injure anyone else I like."

He made a sour face. "Blah. You like Jaheira? You have terrible taste, Little Death."

"She'd probably say something similar about you," Aegis muttered dryly, enjoying as his fingers traced over her spine and slipped down to count her ribs again like spider legs. "We should probably get some sleep."

He gave her an impish look. "Ah... But... Do you still want to?"

"To what? Sleep?" she asked, not sure what he was referring to. Then she jumped when she felt the wizard's fingertips ghosting down under the hem of her trousers. "Yes," she answered without hesitation, her breath catching in her throat. "Now?"

The wizard kissed her collar and then nipped at the laces of her tunic with his teeth; his fingers slipped low into her leggings to elicit a ragged gasp of excitement. He sighed something in another language that sounded desirous, but then grabbed firmly onto her shoulder to stop her when Aegis tried to roll him under her.

"Let me play for a bit," he beseeched her, looking up from where he'd successfully untied her tunic. "I've developed a palette for touching you. Please?" Any previous reluctance seemed to have disappear. "Since you wouldn't let me have any fun with half elfin eyes..."

Aegis swallowed dryly and bobbed her head. After a moment of glancing about at their positioning, she shimmied downward so she could lay instead of sit. Being underneath him for once was a change of perspective. "Okay," she agreed, her legs quivering slowly apart again. "Are you... are you going to be able to...?"

"... remember what I'm doing?" he finished for her in a flat and teasing voice. "Mmm. Well, Little Death, if I start speaking in draconic with my hand down here, feel free to break as many arms as you'd like."

Aegis shuddered at his touch and at the clarity of his speech, shifting her legs a little further apart and reaching up to steady him with her hand. They hadn't done this entirely sober before.

Her necromancer smiled down at her with all the natural appreciation of a man whose sensed his bedmate wanted him, was still young or virile enough to care, and as a result didn't need an ulterior incentive for action. His eyes were heavy lidded and a curling smile stretched wide across black painted lips. His fingers coiled gently and exploratively against her folds, pushing and pulling threads of pleasure over her countenance as she bit her lower lip and writhed for him.

"Xzar...!"

"Still present," he teased reassuringly, and then leaned down to explore her open tunic with his lips.

Chapter Text

When Aegis awoke, she was on her belly with both hands wrapped tightly about her pillow and her face buried into the linen. She'd successfully ignored the dawn for at least an hour that way. Xzar had crawled on top of her sometime in the night and draped himself over her back. He had the blanket drawn up to his ears and his cheek bone was resting against the nape of her neck, with graham hair tickling her shoulders and his arms coiled loosely about her own.

Yup. This was nice. This was completely and entirely what she wanted. To the hells with other conventional expectations of normality. She lazily itched at an old scar along the curve of her thumb and tried to guess which personality her wizard was going to wake up with. She clearly couldn't get up without jostling him, so if Xzar hit consciousness in a less lucid mood, they were going to have an attack of the screamings. Alas; she'd have to try.

"Hey," Aegis murmured, reaching up a hand to gently rub over the necromancer's fingers. Her wizard twitched slightly and then mumbled a garble of unconnected words into her shoulder, most of which were not in languages she understood. He shifted slightly to hug her arms and alter where he was resting her head, and she smiled. "Come on, night owl. Up." She shook his arm.

Xzar blinked slowly awake and then lifted his head a little bit to look down at her. She couldn't see, but a soft smile spread over his mouth. He withdrew his hands from hers and instead placed them flat on her back so he could bridge the fingers and rest his chin on them. "Good morning."

Aegis grunted. "Are you going to get up, or do I have to roll you off?" she joked.

"Perhaps I shall hold on, if you attempt that," he said blithely.

"Perhaps I shall squish you, if you attempt that," she joked back, propping her head up with some of her fingers so she could twist just a bit and peer back at him. "Good morning."

"No," he disagreed, pressing his face back into her shoulder blade and hiding himself there. "Not yet. Give me an hour," the necromancer requested, and then abruptly switched modes to run his fingers gently over her back and side. "Half an hour. Fifteen minutes. I won't last long."

Aegis considered the sun through the inn room window. Then she settled back down with a sleepy yawn. "Anything for my wizard."

"...Twenty-four," he said after a minute had passed in silence with little more than the feel of his breath on her shoulder and his fingers trailing down her back.

"Hmm?"

"Twenty-four is the normal count of ribs in the human abdomen. It does not vary like throws of the dice from person to person, except perhaps by two. In rare cases, a human may develop a clavicle rib." His fingers slipped up to the nape of her neck and pressed gently at the muscles there. "A rib in the base of the neck. Unnecessary, and sometimes painful."

"How many ribs do I have?" she asked, never having thought to count, but recalling that Xzar had said something about them the night before.

"Thirty," he answered. "Eleven pairs fixed, and none floating. Unusual sternum; probably the only reason you can breathe... Good architecture."

Aegis considered the fact that she somehow had six additional unexplained ribs, and that they weren't even correctly shaped. "What does that mean?"

"That you will be difficult to skewer through the heart and you shake off bludgeoning weapons easily?" he drawled in a sassy voice, thinking on the question. "Well, it means he had the luxury of selecting and refining his own form over the years, and he could pick any numbers he liked. Thirty and eleven, or else one and twelve; I suppose those numbers are poetic when paired together. A skeleton king's only physical attributes are his bones, true? Hmm, I did always prefer it with one skull and twelve tears; not just a messy scattering but distinctly twelve..."

Aegis was trying to figure out what he was referencing. Xzar was lucid, speaking in the same voice he had the night before, when he'd spoken of bodies turning to dust and made eerily accurate guesses about her childhood. She was past the point of dismissing these as mere ravings... But was there anything truly substantive about them? Could they at least be followed and interpreted, regardless? Aegis rubbed the bridge of her nose and thought. "Thirty and eleven's a calendar date," she muttered. "So's one and twelve. The thirtieth of Uktar and the first of Nightal? That's Moonfest night."

Xzar paused, turning an impressed gaze upward towards the back of her head. "The Feast for the Dead," he agreed.

Aegis frowned at how everything kept going back to 'death' with this man. Was it really something to do with her, or was it merely because when you were a necromancer, everything looked like death? "I can't believe I'm having this conversation," she sighed, because any normal person would have been correct to assume that dates and random bone selections could have no causal relationship between them. Was she humoring a madman? Or was Xzar actually aware of a truth which Gorion had for some reason hidden from her?

Xzar watched her for a moment, running his fingers gently over her back and wondering what symbolic use a god could have for additional organs. He considered that Aegis's mother might have donated an unusual trait or two; or, if, alternatively a dash of inhuman blood may have helped her father deal with poisons long ago when he was but a man. It seemed an interesting mystery, a puzzle, but for now it was one that would go unsolved. His fingers dug into the muscles of her back, easing downward to pull free lines of tension and uncertainty.

Aegis dropped her head forward into the pillows with a sigh of contentment, and her necromancer hummed happily to himself. He continued to rub over her back for awhile.

"Seven, eleven, eleven, one," he murmured after a time. He counted thirty vertebrae when ignoring the prematurely fused sacrum and absent coccyx. "One sacrum was once five, with seven is twelve... What numbers matter and which do not? None matter, one supposes, except at the whim of a bored and clever mind... Unique, interesting, but not necessarily meaningful... Though perhaps a little like studying a craftsman's brand..."

Aegis was very much cultivating the impression that while Xzar's ramblings might not always have meant much to her, they were completely logical to himself. And not in a wholly deluded way either. She shifted slightly under his massaging caresses, and then sighed. "Talk to me about something," she asked.

"What of?" he asked.

"Anything that isn't me or death."

"Will you call me mad again?"

"No. Not if you stay like this."

He considered the request and then obliged her, chatting about the places he had seen on his journey. The empty forests of Cormanthor, the Dalelands and struggling Cormyr, with travel by boat over the Dragonmere to avoid going through the mountains. His stories were not the easiest to follow or the most benign in nature, but she didn't interrupt until he started giggling up a storm in a way that suggested his sanity was just about to part ways with him.

"Heh Hurh Heh! Oh brother Thrum, why not grace our ears with a ripping tale of the old days? Always a delight! Oh don't hesitate on my account, some of the others may not have heard them!" the man was hooting.

"I am going to bash that poor simple man's head in," Branwen muttered.

She and the others pressed up against foliage and druidic stones, peering hesitantly across them at where a hoarde of skeletons and zombies was milling about in the center. Aegis stood out in the open, with Khalid on one side and Minsc on the other, watching their wretched quarry as he ranted to himself amidst the middle of the monsters.

"Are we attacking yet?" Branwen asked.

"Calm yourself and tell the wizards to work on taking out a whole bunch of targets at once," Jaheira muttered.

The man they were after was not Xzar, for all that skeletons and zombies were involved, and/or that someone's mind had clearly taken leave of their skull. This here was actually a priest named Bassilius, whom Volo had explained was wanted by the Song of the Morning Temple in Beregost.

Although the group did not intend to travel back north any time soon, they'd received word that morning that Bassilius been sighted in the Red Canyons and so set off to investigate. Volo explained the Temple of Lathander would take Bassilius's holy symbol's as proof he was dead, and explained that he was a murderer, a traitor, and an incredibly dangerous cleric. It sounded like just their type of work.

But as he sat there now, on the central stone of the glad, Basillius did not seem exactly dangerous to Aegis. Well, not in one regard, at least. He had an almost drunk and manic look on his face, and kept squirming erratically. A hammer was in one hand and a shield was leaned up against his shin.

"I got this guys," Aegis decided. "Just trust me and follow my lead."

"Hold your peace then!" Bassilius crowed when his gathering of monsters did not reply, "though I remember a time back at Zhentil Keep when you would sooner die than be quiet. You... would sooner... um... I'll wait till you feel like telling them yourself; seems I don't remember the old days so well..."

Montaron glanced up at Xzar, who was furrowing his brows down at a flower he'd plucked and from which he was one-by-one picking off the petals.

"Remind you of anyone?" the halfling growled.

"Hisst! Montaron, I am focusing!" Xzar told him indignantly, and carefully extracted yet another petal in full.

"C-careful, Aegis," Khalid murmured. "T-this man is a Zhent, an e-enemy of goodly folk and a d-dangerous adversary. We should proceed c-cautiously, or begin our s-strike from f-farther back."

Aegis gave the half-elf's shoulder a reassuring pat and then she stepped boldly forward in an effort to catch the nefarious cleric's attention, "Hello?" she called.

The priest whirled about so quickly he nearly fell off his rock, and his shield slid to the ground beside him. "You!" he exclaimed. "Who dares interrupt me while I speak with my family?!" He stumbled to his feet, and fumbled to pick up the shield.

"Actually I wanted to talk to you about-"

Bassilius kept talking: "I'll have your HEADS if you're here to harm the..." he trailed off, blinking at her or perhaps through her. "N-no!" he sputtered. "It can't be! Is that you, Mother? It cannot be otherwise, you haven't changed a bit in all these years!"

Back in the bush, Montaron carefully flicked dirt off the tip of his shortsword. "Ye sure this doesn't remind you of anyone?"

"Can ye cease with the incessant noise!?" Xzar hissed back, dismayed that he'd forgotten what petal he'd been on. "Tis such a pain behind the eyes! Can ye not see I am engaged in an important divination!?"

Aegis straightened herself, blinked, and answered, "Yes, son. It certainly has been a long time." Inwardly, she pleaded for Ohgma to forgive her. "How are you doing, my boy?"

"About as well as can be expected, I-I guess," the cleric mumbled hesitantly, eyes wide and eager. "It has been difficult but I've got most of the family back together! Some did not seem to recognize me at first, but I helped them recall."

This was quite familiar to Aegis, who took another step forward and examined a skeleton. "Yes, yes," she agreed and looked back to the cleric. "I recognize them now. Well, no matter. I'm so glad to see you! In fact, I haven't seen you since... Zhentil Keep!" Another step closer. Another after that. Past zombies, past skeletons, that creaked and stank on every side. Khalid, bless him, did not leave her, even as he had to have felt quite alarmed by her decision making, and Minsc stayed attached to her opposite side with a curious wrinkle to his brow. "Thank the gods we all got out safely, and damned to the hells those filthy Banite tyrants!"

Khalid blinked, taken aback. Montaron recoiled in confusion before glaring up at Xzar, demanding, "How the devil does she know anything about-?"

"Yes!" Bassilius gushed. "Though it was frightening for a time because I thought I was the only one of us that survived. I thought I was... I was the only one who..." He suddenly looked frightened, uncertain.

Aegis had been sleeping with a madman for enough consecutive nights to understand that an impassioned moment of clarity was about to break through. She wondered if it would involve him curling up on the floor bawling, attacking them, or bashing his own brains out with his hammer.

"You lie," the cleric whispered, eyes no longer manic but lost. "YOU LIE! You cannot be my mother because she died when I left the- when I-!" Sobs wracked his voice and he looked around himself. Aegis suspected she knew what she was dealing with; and instead of selecting a route of penance or justice she chose to drive the next spike of this conversation forward into the heart instead:

"I didn't have to lie; you're lying to yourself," she retorted in a low voice. "You rob other people of their loved ones to try and replace those you betrayed. But you live every moment in torment, and it's time for that to end."

"N-no!" the priest shrieked. "They lived! All of them, they lived! I saved them and they lived! I- I ran... D-dead, all dead, it isn't true, it cannot be, you lie, you lie and I will KILL you for slighting my memory-!"

"You'll kill your mother who lived because you saved her because you didn't betray her and she didn't die?" Aegis asked him, leaving the story as convoluted as he had woven it in the first place, and probably crossing Minsc's eyes beside her.

Basillius went rigid, a spark of horrified realization lighting up his countenance. All willpower failed, leaving behind nothing more than broken, battered pain. His hammer dropped to the ground at his side. Around him the skeletons and zombies crumbled into ashes. The broken man stood there trembling in the aftermath. Then a primordial scream broke forth from his lips, and he threw himself at her with only his bare hands.

Khalid took his cue and stepped forward with his tower shield raised high. He slammed the wall of metal into the charging cleric, bashing the man so hard that Basillius tumbled to his rump on the dirt. He sniffled, and whimpered to himself for a moment before another fit of violence overtaught him, negative energy limed his fingertips, and he tried to flail forward and scratch one of them. Tried. Minsc stepped forward and delivered a full swing kick to the man's head, and the sound of a spine snapping was audible.

"How the devil did you manage that?" Edwin asked afterwards, coming up beside the three of them with flaming energy dying down about his fingertips. "I was expecting to have to take out all of those undead toys alone! (A reasonable demonstration of my ability.) Why did he lose his focus; he was clearly a powerful and well-disciplined cleric to command so many bodies!"

"His mind was already broken," Branwen dismissed with a derisive spit at the pathetic cleric's corpse. "Good riddance."

"Clearly! How did thou knowest what to say, Aegis?" Dynaheir was apparently in agreement that the failure of the undead army was the most surprising part of all of this.

"I've been well-trained," Aegis answered, cracking her knuckles. "This sort of talent for interpreting crazy-people-who-love-dead-things-and-mistake-me-for-their-mothers doesn't just come naturally, you know. It took hours and hours of arduous study! Hey, Minsc? You didn't have to hit him so hard; we could have brought him back alive..."

"Better off dead," Branwen disagreed. "Maybe his addled mind will find some peace in the hereafter. I'll search him for his holy symbol so at least we can prove he is dead." 

Xzar and Montaron joined them from halfway around the ring, Montaron seemed bemused and at least someone disconcerted; he'd probably caught what Aegis was saying. Xzar, inexplicably, had his arms full of flowers. Xzar walked up to Aegis, walked around Aegis, grabbed hold of her hair, and began weaving the aforementioned flowers into it.

Aegis stood there unresponsive for a short while. Then slowly, by degrees, turned her head to peer back at him over his shoulder. "Do I... want to know what is happening back there?"

"Hsst! I am putting flowers in your hair! Now hold still!"

"Okay," Aegis hazarded. "Can I ask why?"

"Because I have forgotten what I was doing with them and I do not want to look crazy!" he announced loud enough for absolutely everyone to hear him. "So this is my cover. Besides, they are chamomiles. You love chamomiles, no? Hee!"

"Very well. Continue, then," she said, looking back to the scene of the cleric-murder so that Xzar could do as he wished under the confused and disturbed expressions of her party members. "We should probably briefly check the zombies to see if any are identifiable and if there might be a reward for information on their whereabouts." No one immediately moved or responded. Aegis glanced up and noticed her party was distracted staring at her. "What? Is there something in my teeth?"

"The madman is weaving flowers in your hair," Jaheira told her.

"Yeah? He know I like chamomiles. I'm sure Khalid knows your favorite flower."

Jaheira's left eye twitched as if the question and the comparison of her relationship to Aegis's own were together on the verge of giving her a stroke.

"C-Chrys-santhemums!" Khalid chimed from where he was helping Branwen with the dark priest's things.

"There's a long-blooming flower," Aegis reflected. "Still surprised he found these in autumn."

"I love flowers!" Garrick sighed. "Nothing speaks to a woman's heart better than passionate ballad and perfumed roses, wouldn't you say Branwen?"

"Have you tried punching her?" Branwen asked him as she returned with a holy symbol of Cyric. "No woman should respect a man who can't hold his own in a grapple. Why are you going for the heart anyway? Good beef stew, roasted carrots... Go for the stomach, foolish man. Or maybe the liver, if you've got some good mead..."

Garrick tried not to look too depressed, but even the color of the bard's clothing seemed to lose a few hues. As for the wizards, well, Edwin had already written Xzar off as insane. Dynaheir seemed a mildly concerned for Aegis' sanity (understandable) but did give an almost wistful glance Minsc's way that, given the topic, almost suggested she might possibly have feelings for the man, but that his head injury or the nature of their journey prevented her from deeming feelings appropriate.

"Favorite flowers?" the large man boomed after bringing Boo up to his ear and listening to the hamster chitter for several moments. "Ha! This one is easy! Feisty one's favorite flowers are lilies!" Dynaheir stiffened to the point she nearly seemed to grow an inch. Imoen, who'd been thrown off by the chamomile thing, same as everyone, turned to their witch with a big grin and mouthed 'I told you!' and Dynaheir turned a very dark shade of crimson, as if she couldn't decide whether to feel embarrassed, elated or endeared.

Edwin squinted up at Minsc for a moment and then turned his gaze back to where Xzar was biting his tongue and carefully arranging the white flowers so that they fell into an aesthetically pleasing pattern. "I can't tell which of them is simpler," he told Aegis snidely. "Yours or hers."

"'Simple' is not the word I'd use," Aegis mentioned tactfully, while also wondering how she was supposed to look awesome and intimidating when Xzar had her stuck in one place and was dressing her hair like she was some newly wed fae.

"Call it what you will, they're fools, (and you're the worst of them, the leader of fools)," the Thayvian growled contemptuously, kicking aside some bones and then walking away.

Montaron gave Imoen a wry look. "Oh ain't this a backwards treat. Sappiest tart here, and look, ye're the only one without a man to guess ye flower," he prodded meanly. She scowled at him, but then lifted her chin and triumphantly said,

"Yeah? And where's your big strong man gonna guess your flower, halfling?" which got an elbow and a snicker out of Montaron for being a halfway reasonable retort. Edwin seemed to think this meant they were flirting and muttered something about how he felt 'size' might be an issue of the halfling thought to push that route. Montaron shot a look that way, and then slapped Imoen's back.  "Ey, we get back by nightfall from this list o' errands, and maybe ye can go snoop around for bards less irritating than ours."

"I'm totally in on that plan. And don't worry, if I see any lady halflings waltzing about with armfuls of deadly nightshade blossoms, I'll let ya know."

"Fair deal."

The evening saw them safely back at Nashkel, if slightly battered from dealing with more than just delusional clerics. They turned in what bounties they could, ate dinner, and took a drink or two to settle in and relax.

Edwin was complaining about something; Dynaheir and he looked on the verge of a heated disagreement. As amusing as that might have been (neither appeared to have any further spells prepared and Aegis was entertaining a mental image of the two wizards clawing at each other with their nails and pulling each others' hair out) Aegis decided to resolve the situation by making sure Edwin was given access to both wine and less hostile conversation. Jaheira diffused the other end by drawing Dynaheir into telling tales about her homeland.

Garrick tried desperately to catch Branwen's attention. Imoen and Montaron played a game where they each dared the other to nick coins from increasingly difficult targets. Minsc and Khalid were debating the uses of different types of shields. The evening wound down into something tolerable and calm.

Aegis finished her dinner and her booze and decided to turn in early for the night. Without even being asked, Xzar abandoned his seat near Montaron and hurried up to join her, earning ubiquitous stares in the process. He gave Aegis an inquisitive look and when she smirked back he quietly followed her out.

"Dya think he's aware he's in a relationship?" Imoen asked boredly, still irritated with the turn of events that led to her rooming with Montaron.

"That one's mad, not stupid," Montaron told her with all seriousness. "Don't forget the difference and don't underestimate it for a second, girl, not in him and not in anyone else as scrambled as he is. He knows exactly what's going on around him. Just cause he don't make sense to us, just cause his pot's cracked, don't mean he ain't capable of more twisted plans than you could even imagine. Under all those ramblings, that mind's sharp as me blade."

"Really?" Imoen asked, finding it slightly hard to believe. "Didn't think you were one for complementing, Monty."

"I ain't," the halfling reminded her, because if Montaron liked anyone in that party he liked Imoen. "I hate him; he's insane; that doesn't mean I think I'm workin' with a simpleton. Keep on your toes, girl, cause the thing what sleeps with yer sister at nights be a necromancer. Don't pretend that's trivial."

Chapter Text

The hobgoblins were clever enough to hold their silence until they had positioned their best archers on a higher ridge and surrounded the party. Then they lost their composure and those not on the ridge bellowed excitedly, charging out of the bushes and from behind rocks and trees with their short bows knocked and their swords at ready.

Imoen reacted first, loosing arrows that slide past studded leather armor and downing two targets almost immediately. Jaheira stepped forward with a barkskin spell activated to bodily protect her from assailants. As more of the hobgoblins leaped down from the trees beside her, Jaheira threw up a spell of entanglement that latched on to the monsters' feet and made them easy targets for their archer.

Aegis shoved herself to the front of the battle line with Khalid, easing a medium sized shield off her shoulder and hoisting it up. Arrows pounded down from the ridge, the first two pinioning Khalid's tower shield and the third glancing off Aegis's shoulder. Khalid glanced to see if she was injured, but Aegis merely grinned and began pushing forward with the shield as cover. Khalid moved in tandem with her.

Even though Aegis tended to lead, she was starting to realize Khalid was teaching her a lot of tacit information in these moments they shared at the front of the party: When to push, when to retreat, how to judge when to strike. He was subtle, quiet, and nonconfrontational; the polar opposite of Jaheira, but Aegis could feel guidance in where and how he positioned himself; and she could see the mistakes she made by how badly he had to overextend himself to protect her.

He was smaller than her, but he was older, and he knew what he was doing. She had a lot to learn, and the two of them—Khalid and Jaheira—were honestly some of the best mentors Gorion could ever have introduced her to.

Together they took two more arrows on their shields as they approached. Then Aegis had reached the first hobgoblin, and a sweep of her axe handily conveyed to him why he should have been quicker to draw a melee weapon.

Montaron and Xzar followed her and Khalid to take advantage of their shields and armor. When Aegis moved out to the right, Montaron followed, dashing around her to hamstring the first fools to wade forward and engage her. Xzar tried to pursue but then ducked back behind Khalid as fresh barrage of arrows rained down from the ridge. The shield caught the majority of the onslaught, and though at least one or two must have skimmed Khalid's legs, the two of them went uninjured.

Minsc had gone in the complete opposite direction of the others; he'd darted back to deal with the hobgoblins at the party's flank, and Dynaheir  was assisting him. As the tattooed ranger shouted promises to the gods of butt-kicking, his witch flanked him with twin streaks of lightning. To their side, Edwin stumbled backwards from a hobgoblin who had leaped straight into the middle of the party. He narrowly avoided a slice aimed at his midsection, but by then his first spell had limed his fingertips with the potential for fire, and he was ready to fight.

When Khalid lowered his shield from the latest barrage of arrows, he found a significantly larger hobgoblin in chain bearing down on him. This newcomer could well have been the hobgoblin's commander, for his gear was visibly more expensive. Not a second too late, Khalid noticed the spiked flail rippling through the air above him, and realized he was about to be bludgeoned to death. "Oh dear," the half elfin fighter muttered, hoisting back up the shield and throwing his weight down and into the structure as the flail heads came pounding down. The impact was tremendous and entangled the edge of the shield, such that when the hobgoblin yanked the weapon backwards on the wind up for a second strike, the force jerked the shield straight out of Khalid's hands.

Seeing an opening in this, Xzar evaded the cumbersome upswing of the flail heads and grabbed the hobgoblin's armor with fingers limed in green. The hobgoblin snarled and tried to swat aside the bewildering man with his off hand, but his arm never made it far enough to do so. His face wrinkled in a grimace of panic, and he wheezed out a failed utterance and went still. Lungs and muscles locked up into a state of almost paralysis. He likely barely breathe. Xzar stepped back giggling from his handiwork: A perfectly delivered Ghoul Touch.

Khalid barely had any time to put together the story of what had just happened, or the result of the wizard's spell. He stumbled forward to try and retrieve his shield. Hobgoblins farther afield were nocking fresh arrows.

Xzar, veritably bouncing with glee, was only vaguely conscious of hearing the sharp crack of a fired bow. Then an arrow hit him directly in the thigh, the shaft buried in almost to the feathers, with the head sticking out quite a number of inches on the other side. The sudden intensity of the hit took him straight to the ground. He hit the earth, expression evidencing no real comprehension and abundant shock. He stared at the injury a moment to long, and then looked up to see a rain of three more arrows coming down at him.

Then there was a tower shield in the way. Because Khalid was a significantly better person than Xzar would ever possibly want to be.

The rescue was perverse and revolting and hilarious, and as the half-elf knelt down before him to block out arrows and assess the thigh wound, Xzar mimed vomiting and busted out into giggles. He wondered if he should turn around and grab the half-elf now... stun him with a spell and then use a simple belt knife to tear his throat out... It would be so easy... Like taking candy from a child!

Would she know, he wondered? Perhaps. Naturally. Of course. He dare not compromise that. Xzar returned to his senses (or the equivalent) in time to note acid streamers flying through the air. Somewhere behind them, Edwin had lost his temper with all the arrows distracting his assortment of meat shields, and decided to 'solve' the entirety of the problem himself.

Garrick, miraculously, was still alive and apparently trying to bolster the Red Wizard or perhaps the entire party with song.

Edwin managed to get off a second acid arrow and then a third, and by then he'd felled the majority of the sharp shooters. But focus on long-distance targets had left him and the party bard virtually surrounded by Hobgoblins with short words, and both would have perished under the might of their goblinoid assailants (or so Garrick would later tell the tale with Edwin nearly ready to throttle the man for slander) had not Branwen suddenly leaped into the fray beside them holding aloft a glowing blue hammer of justice. Without hesitation she rushed into their enemies, bashing open skulls left and right, all the while bellowing "TEMPUS!" at the very top of her lungs.

Edwin knew what he was doing with spellery; that much was clear. They had seen that he could throw spells accurately, under high pressure, from within a melee, and hit a target at a hundred yards. He also didn't lack for tactical acumen; he'd made use of his long range abilities to take out the hobgoblins with the highest damage-dealing potential whom had already pinned down several of his party members, thereby freeing up the team's muscle to return to his side and aid him.

But unfortunately, despite all these praiseworthy capabilities, Edwin was not a pleasant person to be around.

The Red Wizard had a tendency to complain and mutter insults at every opportunity. He was not selective with his one-sided banter either; instead of simply targeting Minsc or Dynaheir, he felt entitled to quip at and belittle nearly everyone. He might have been easy to ignore, of course, if everything he said did not been founded on a grain of truth, distorting everything with an unforgiving pessimism. For instance: As they took a detour through the woods on their return journey, with Aegis leading in the hopes they could arrive at Nashkel in time for supper, the Thayvian snarled something about women and their sense of direction. Aegis sighed, watching as Garrick skipped along ahead of them, playing a rousing love song. Branwen was entirely oblivious.

This was the second day their team had running doing odd-jobs around Nashkel, and the hobgoblins had hit them hard almost immediately after a Winter Wolf had blown ice shards over the entire party. No one was in a very good mood; but Edwin was taking things to extremes:

"Can anyone at all explain to me why why we've left the path to follow the woman who is sleeping with the only man I've ever met less stable than the dullard with the hamster?"

"I do know where I'm going, right?" Aegis asked Jaheira, who sighed in both affirmation and to say she believed Edwin was an idiot.

Edwin laughed. "By your story, you lived in a cloistered abbey all your life. Do you really think you're some kind of 'ranger?' Tell me girl, have you ever ranged over anything larger than a chicken coop?" Case in point: Grain of truth.

"There are more ways to learn than on the ground," Aegis mused. "And since leaving home I've had a very capable if somewhat grouchy instructor." Jaheira lifted a brow at her and Aegis gave a disarming smile and shrugged. "I love you auntie?" she offered the woman. The druid was not impressed.

Their Red Wizard sneered, or, well, he sounded like he was sneering; Aegis wasn't looking. "Your Candlekeep is famed for its books; were they all absent of maps? Do you have any idea how long it even took me to get to this damnable country in the first place? Then perhaps you could take the advice of someone who has actually traveled."

"I wish I were easier to anger," Aegis mused quietly to Jaheira. "I'd like to hit him."

"Save the foolish boy's spankings for another day," the druid advised with uncharacteristic joviality. 'Boy'? Well, Edwin might have been older than Aegis, but it was hard to trump an elf in age. "Such as after Nashkel when he realizes we'll never let him near his quarry and he has no more side errands to run. That one is like black powder, Aegis. He will not simmer long, and he could seriously harm us."

"I know," Aegis admitted. "Let it lie for now. Unless, perhaps a prank is in order?" Aegis considered. "Did we ever managed to sell off that cursed girdle of masculinity and femininity?"

Jaheira lost a fight to grin.

"Half of us are injured and we could be ambushed at any moment," Edwin was complaining from the back of the party. "We should not be tramping through the wilderness this near to evening with bandits on the road and wolves about!"

"Such a spoiled child," Jaheira muttered to Aegis alone.

"Worse than Candlekeep brats?"

"Ugh, much worse."

"I could help," a certain necromancer giggled from directly behind them. "I have need of a few new spell components." Jaheira's good humor evaporated almost instantaneously as Xzar pushed his arms around Aegis's neck and he sidled up behind her. "I'll be quick," he purred into her hair.

"Not this time, please and thank you," Aegis answered mirthfully, patting the wizard's arm and then blinking when she felt how badly he was limping. "How's the leg?"

"Uaaah! Mammy, it hurts!" the necromancer wailed as if on cue, sagging his weight down on her shoulders like a selfish child.

"Xzar! Oof. Xzar." Aegis rolled her eyes and paused momentarily. She knelt and reached behind her to grab up the wizard's legs as he giggled to himself. He squeaked in surprise and then cooed inquisitively when she stood up carrying him piggyback style. Xzar was light enough that she didn't even have to lean forward. "Only this one time, got that?" she warned him as she hiked his weight up a little higher and he rested his chin on her shoulder. "And only because you're injured."

"Horsey?" the wizard chimed.

"Not on your life," Aegis chuckled, kissing the necromancer's chin.

Edwin gaped after them in dismay. "Well, that's nice. Pity we don't all have mentally handicapped, directionally challenged, half-ogre women to carry us around. My feet could use a good rest. Say, witch," he looked to Dynaheir, "do you think your own half-witted giant-man might offer you a ride? I'm sure it would make the miles go faster."

"If someone else does not stop him somehow, I shall discipline him myself," Branwen muttered to the bulk of the party. "Only instead of using all of your polite words, I shall do it by socking him in the gut like his mother or father ought to have."

"Branwen, don't provoke him," Aegis asked of her.

"If he is not loyal, then he is no true companion! Let him know childishness results in discipline. Then if he should he attempt to assault us with death on his mind instead of the simple honesty of a brawl, he will show his true colors, and I will break his teeth."

"Oh boy...." Aegis narrowed her eyes at Branwen, realizing she'd have to keep a closer watch over their only cleric. A healer was most appreciated, but a cleric of the war god was more than just that. Aegis had little doubt the pugnacious cleric could easily overpower any one of the three wizards in the party... provided they were exhausted at the end of a long day. But when morning came, Edwin's memory was not nearly so flighty as Xzar's.

Speaking of Edwin, the Red Wizard had had enough of being ignored. He pushed up to the front of the party and eyed Aegis with more than a little disdain. Aegis shifted Xzar's weight about so she could hold him up with one hand while she reached for her flask with the other. She had a feeling this conversation was going to require some alcohol. Edwin briefly gave her a second glance as if taken aback by something- perhaps her strength? That was understandable. Aegis did not run about arms and shoulders bare, bulging in muscles, like the party's strong man. She'd learned early on in this adventure to love armor.

"Where exactly are we going?" the Thayvian demanded. "We should not have left the road."

"We're taking a shortcut so we can have baths tonight, Edwin, calm down. You have me, Minsc and Jaheira in the party."

"Calm... down...?" the Red Wizard asked slowly. "Forgive me for not feeling reassured that you think that buffoon could find his way out of a paper bag. (Or that you lump yourselves in with him!) I am not your pet, nor your addled fool, that such tactics as asking me to 'calm down' should be anything other than insulting! While you were out gallivanting in the northern woods these past weeks, I was here in Nashkel. The worgs howl around the village perimeter long before dusk, and the forests are limed with bandits."

"You sound nervous," Aegis noted and took that drink she'd wanted. Xzar seemed to be watching their Thayvian with heavy lidded eyes, the ghost of a smile still lingering on his lips.

"I am prudent," Edwin answered viciously. "These were not simple gibberings we handled today! A significant chunk of the party is injured; and you think I care about baths?"

Aegis took stock of the wizard, realizing that what she'd dismissed as complaints and spoiled ranting might actually be the well-reasoned insights of a rational mind. Edwin may not have cared much for the rest of the party, but he knew his own limitations. Ah, she thought. You aren't going to be able to squeeze any more spells out this evening. You feel vulnerable, and you don't trust us or our skills to see you safely through an unexpected situation.

"This one here hasn't exhausted his spellcasting for the day," Aegis gave Xzar a little nudge as she carried him. The necromancer was silent, watching Edwin almost lazily.

"Great, you can lob the simpleton at the bandits like a bola when we are accosted. I yield to the supreme tactical advantage of having a wizard who so foolishly prepares only such spells as can be delivered by physical touch, and then finds himself with a severely injured leg. How that one has the sense to memorize and cast even a single spell is beyond me, when surely he must be so frequently distracted from his studies by hallucinations of rabbits."

Xzar winced, and Aegis perceived his heartbeat suddenly racing against her back. She made a mental note. Jaheira decided to speak on her behalf: "The roads are worse than the woods, mage. We just came from Beregost, and unlike you we know better. If you don't want to attract attention, then I suggest you stop making noise."

"Trust us," Aegis agreed.

"But I don't. I don't trust you, that is. I do not at all; not your judgement, nor your laughable skills in combat. I have watched you do little more than get lucky in confusing a demented priest of Cyric, and then blunder into confrontation after confrontation for little discernible advantage. We should not have bothered with the majority of these affairs; not for the pittance of coin offered and certainly not for warm feelings in our breasts. And if it were not for the danger that this witch presents, this witch whom you so blithely and ignorantly keep in your company, I would not even be forced to be here!" Aegis lifted a brow at him, surprised by the undisguised challenge in his voice. "We should be taking the road, 'leader.'"

"The Thayvian raises some points," Xzar agreed languidly from his perch, but Aegis realized his body language was inconsistent with alliance. The necromancer was very lucid, and the lazy expression on his face was more akin to a cat's than to a usurper. He did not particularly like Edwin at this moment; the way his forearms coiled more tightly around her chest said so. Whatever his reason, he'd have her back in a fight. Literally.

To her side, Jaheira did not have a positive impression of the necromancer, and his grip on Aegis might have seemed threatening, and so her hands tightened warily on her quarterstaff. If there was about to be a four-way brawl out in the middle of the woods, then the druid was ready.

Aegis gave her necromancer an annoyed nudge. "Behave," she instructed.

"If I must." Edwin was clearly more in danger of earning a 'Ghoul Touch' spell at the moment than Jaheira was.

"Odessieron," Aegis said, enunciating to get the full of his attention, "Let me make this very clear: I told you why we were heading off the path to enlighten you; not so that you could evaluate the effectiveness of my reasoning and come back to me with your analysis and/or a debate. This isn't a vote; you have no say. You can follow me, or you can choose to walk a different direction. But there is absolutely nothing you can do to suddenly the cause the entire party to follow you instead of me; because I'm why we're all waking together in the first place. Do you understand?"

The Red Wizard sneered, eyes narrowing to slits. "Oh, I understand. And I'm also starting to understand that you're unlikely to last the month, what with that bounty on your head." Aegis quirked a brow. "(She really didn't think I knew?) It's up to a thousand now, I'm told, and you're slinking around bandit territory helping undeserving peasants run their scary errands. Suppose its for the best; soon enough everyone in Nashkel will know you're their ticket to comfortable living. I'm sure it'll be fun 'walking together' with you around then."

Montaron didn't look affected by the news of the rising bounty, but he was fingering his shortsword like he expected some kind of tussle, and it wasn't necessarily clear who he'd side with. Aegis? Probably. He wasn't likely to set bets on Edwin being willing to see him through Nashkel mines to investigate the iron crisis.

Xzar's fingers brushed over Aegis's throat in a way that suggested they were demarcating the trachea and jugular vein. The gesture could have been threatening, but she felt distinctly that the necromancer wasn't thinking about strangling her. Money was Montaron's vice, not Xzar's. In fact, the green wizard turned his face to whisper something draconic into her hair, and she felt the flutter of magic across her. It felt warm, not nefarious. Some kind of ward? Why did it feel familiar?

"So..." Aegis drew out the word, giving Edwin the opportunity to elucidate his intentions. "Are you saying goodbye, then?"  The Thayvian's eyes immediately darted to Dynaheir and then flit back to her. His sharpened nails curling slightly into his palms. "No? Then come on, you're slowing us down," she told him and resumed walking.

"You'll... you'll regret ignoring my advice," the Red Wizard snarled, and Aegis perceived that Branwen had not resumed walking and was instead standing behind, her hammer half raised, as if genuinely contemplating the act of bashing Edwin across the head. "You'll regret ignoring me."

"Immy!" Aegis hollered over her shoulder, more worried for Edwin's sake than she was about what he might be capable of while tired and cranky. "Can you handle the Thayvian for me?"

She didn't see Edwin stiffen, nor his eyes widen; she didn't realize that, to him, her words sounded like a threat. Certainly they were an impolite dismissal. "You dare!?" he snarled, unnerved but excited because it was the end of a long day and the party was still many in number. His fingers lit up with energy and Khalid, who was nearest and most capable of doing something about the matter skid to a halt in surprise; he, like Aegis, had surmised Edwin had used up his spellcasting power for the day.

Edwin had not. In fact, while all of his 'companions' had been getting shot at, he had held in reserve a technique that might have saved them all a great deal of pain- not that they would have been grateful for it, the bastards! 'Paranoid' they might have called him, or 'traitorous,' pah! If that dismissal hadn't been a threat, he didn't know what was. He whirled to catch sight of wherever the blasted little thief was, wondering if she'd be holding her bow or her knife

"Right-O!" Imoen called cheerfully, and he realized with a start that she'd slipped around his other side.

Hurry! She'll not have the time! Loose the spell. Loose the fireball, I'll level all of-

Then a hand had grabbed his cowl and yanked his head down, and a woman was kissing him, and anything he may have or may have not intended to do was lost as the fire spell sputtered. He had just enough presence of mind to throttle instinctively down on the magic, preventing it from backfiring into himself and wrecking who knew what kind of unpleasant chaos. The spell burst apart into a harmless scattering of cinders that fluttered away in all directions. Instants later he shoved her backwards, sputtering in horror and gaping as he searched for something to say.

For once, no words came to mind.

"Mission accomplished!" Imoen called excitedly to her sister, and then beamed innocently back at the wizard. "Come on Edwin, you're holding us up!"

"You... you...!" Edwin sputtered, but now he really did have nothing left to cast. Keeping that spell from misfiring in some catastrophic way with unknown effects to himself had been the last drain of spellpower he could take, and he felt a familiar magical exhaustion settle into his bones. He was not sure he had ever hated someone so much in his life; not as badly as he hated those two women in the heat of the moment.

Imoen noticed he wasn't following, paused, and turned about to come back for him. She reached out as if to lead him by the hand- as if he were some child!

"Come on," she encouraged the seething mage. "It wouldn't have worked anyways."

"What?" Edwin hissed, pulling away from her.

"You might not have noticed, but Dynaheir was counter-spelling, and you had Branwen right behind you with her hammer raised looking she like she was an instant away from braining you on the spot."

Edwin glared after the party. Then he heaved a low laugh. Ah. So. He hadn't been the only one who'd reserved his best for last at the expense of the party. "They are all of them hypocrites," Edwin sneered, "espousing virtue when the truth is everyone is out for themselves. The cleric doesn't give one whit for anyone so long as she has targets to bludgeon. And mark my words, that business with the witch is going to end badly for all of you. You think she is better than me? I would sooner pin my faith on the madwizard."

"Well, I like her," Imoen protested. "Besides, she lets me look at her spellbook, and that's more than you've done in the handful of days I've known you."

"As if an insolent child like you could understand magic?! If your loyalty is so fleeting it can be won with meaningless gestures like that; if your mind is that easy to manipulate and your affections that easy to win; then you belong at the business end of an assassin's blade. Better that than to realize you've been unwittingly used as an assassin yourself!" Imoen frowned, taken aback. The Red Wizard wiped his mouse off using the back of his hand. "What devil possessed you, girl?"

"You looked like you needed it," she joked. "Gee, what did you think I was going to do, stab you in the back? You wound me! I almost think you're slightly okay sometimes, you know!"

"I most certainly 'needed' nothing of the sort! The sentiment is neither mutual!"

"I had to stop you from casting somehow, you'd have started a fight you couldn't win! I did whatever would surprise you!"

"Bah!"

"Well, come on, let's not stay alone in the creepy woods, it's getting dark."

"Fine. Go, then!"

"What, without you?"

"Yes, your presence is steadily worsening my growing migraine. Leave me be, wretched child!"

"I'm not leaving you out here alone with wolves and bandits and what have you."

He laughed. "Oh I have had quite enough of this little 'party,' girl. Why? Does leaving me behind rub your pretty little morals the wrong way?"

"Okay, that's it. Stop calling me 'girl'! How old are you? Thirty? Big whoop! Get your act together, and stop just flinging around insults for no good reason! You aren't going to be casting anything stronger than a lone magic missile t'night, and we're alone in a forest, and no one even attacked you or asked you to leave. Do you even know the shortest way to the main road?"

Edwin snarled at her and pointed. Imoen reached up, grasped his arm, and redirected it about forty degrees to his left. The wizard hesitated, looking surprised first at the direction he was now pointing, and then at Imoen. She rested the butt of her bow on the ground and leaned on it, eyeing him knowingly. He attempted to discern whether this was a bluff; Imoen had never exactly displayed wayfaring abilities in the past.

He straightened his posture. "I have traveled on my own for months and feared nothing; I do not need a flamboyant babysitter now. Get out of my face."

There was a crackle above them. A raindrop splattered down. Then another, and another. Edwin slowly turned a dismayed expression up to the sky.

"There's..." Imoen hesitated, "There's a good pine to the right over there if... If you really want to stay out here tonight."

Edwin looked at her blankly.

"But if I were you, I'd like warm, dry, fed, and mildly kerfluffled instead of alone, cold, wet, and hungry."

Edwin stared at her for a moment; just long enough to be sure this was no passing spritz of water and that a storm really was coming. He tilted his head to the side, and his face was cold and merciless. "I do not forgive," the Thayvian told her, and then he walked past her to rejoin the group. "And I do not forget."

Imoen watched him go with a raised brow. Are all wizards mad? she wondered. Or just the men?

Aegis glanced backwards a few times, concerned about her two missing party members. If Imoen didn't show soon, Aegis was giong to send Montaron to fetch her. Edwin wouldn't have hurt her, would he? Probably not. Edwin was short-tempered and of uncertain morality, but assaulting Imoen was a little beneath him. More likely, he was trying to fend off the irritation of her presence.

"What was that you cast on me?" Aegis wondered aloud to her necromancer, to distract herself.

"Mm?" Xzar prompted.

"A super leadership spell?" she teased. "Sadly it appears no amount of magic is enough to fix that problem."

"No," Xzar answered, realizing what she meant.

"What then?"

"Protection," the necromancer told her. "Protection from Evil, specifically."

"What, really?" she asked, and he nodded into her. "Oh. Thank you."

Jaheira's looked incredulously over at them, hardly able to believe a word she was hearing. Protection from Evil, indeed!

Aegis was surprised. Then, belatedly, a shudder rippled down her spine as she realized why the spell had felt familiar. Gorion had cast some sort of protective magics on her when the two of them had left Candlekeep together. Was that why the armored man had been unable to track her that evening? Had it really been so simple as the power of a loving father's protective seal? She'd almost forgotten Gorion had cast anything at all.

She walked for a moment in silence, her thoughts meandering for a bit until she was no longer thinking of her father and was instead turning around words in her head. "Protection from Evil. Does it work in the bedroom?" she punned abruptly.

Xzar took a moment to register what had been said. Then he looked down at her sharply. His mouth spread into a wide grin. He giggled, leaned his temple into her shoulder, and eventually broke out into quiet hysterics.

"I fail to see what's so funny," Jaheira muttered.

"We're discussing our sex life, I'm sure the topic would disinterest you," Aegis told her. "Xzar, why did you even memorize that spell?" she laughed.

"Takes one to know one," the necromancer responded, his voice dripping into a solemn tone; he glanced back at where Dynaheir was walking and Edwin and Imoen were returning to the group, and his eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

The witch was closest out of all of them to understanding the truth, he suspected, though her suspicions still had a great deal of catching-up to do. Jaheira was blinded by her affection for this 'Gorion' and her own righteous creed, and likely would not have been able to grasp the truth of things even if it had been spelled out for her. The Thayvian no doubt had greater motives then simple assassination; enough that he was content to keep watch over Dynaheir instead of striking her at the first opportunity. He wanted to find out what the Rashemi woman was up to; and Dynaheir wanted to figure out what her spiritual pilgrimage had in store for her. Neither could yet imagine what they'd been led to; what it was they were following; what it was he was following.

The necromancer smirked to himself, knowing he had plenty of time to watch and wait. Aegis had a very convincing and artfully crafted Nature Childe mask. The way she clung to it was going to throw the druid and both wizards off her scent at every river and crossroads. By the time the realization clicked (if it ever did) more or less anything could have happened in the meanwhile. The trait which had so baffled him at first was going to work to his advantage.

He felt the protective spell begin to fade under his fingertips. There wasn't a person in the party he thought wouldn't turn on her if they were to guess the truth. Couldn't be helped. A few, though (he glanced at Montaron), might have been willing to do it even in ignorance.

Chapter Text

Imoen had always been told that spying in a wizard's personal spellbook or research material without being invited was an act of gross personal violation; like stealing an unsolicited look into their innermost thoughts. But to be honest she just couldn't help her darn self! She justified her actions by reminding herself that she was no wizard, and hardly a threat or rival to them.

That was a deception. Doh, Ohgma must have been furious with her right now. Okay, well, she had to at least be honest with herself on this to appease him: Imoen wasn't a wizard; she was a thief... but that didn't mean she was just innocently looking at all the pretty diagrams and flavors of handwriting.

The (super special secret!) truth was that Imoen had stolen, snooped, borrowed, and bugged a primary education in magic out of the Candlekeep monks. In a place of infinite books, there were only so many ways for a young girl to distract herself. Whenever Aegis was being boring (studying maps, practicing combat with the guards, exercising with heavy water buckets, reading about animals, doing homework for Gorion, etc!), Imoen went out to practice 'borrowing' from her elders. And when the most common things to 'borrow' were made of paper, a young woman was simply bound to start wondering about all those strange words and symbols she couldn't yet understand. And once a young woman began to get curious (especially a pink one!) well it was only natural that she would begin taking steps to sate that curiosity! Secretly.

Imoen could read draconic. Read! Not speak. The syllables rushed past her ears in a blur whenever she heard wizards casting, and she never could manage to pick up a tongue for them (alone, without help, in a cubbyhole in the keep). But read, she could definitely read draconic. And now, as she peered over the spellbooks and notes of three so very different people, she began to get a sensation for how different magic could be from one side of the Realms to another. For example, in comparing Dynaheir's, Edwin's, and Xzar's spellbooks (from memory; she never had access to more than one at a time!), Imoen found three almost unrecognizable different variants of the spell Magic Missile. On further inspection she realized that each wizard's notes shared a common magical core. But each represented that core so differently and approached the spell from such a different lens, that Imoen was staggered by the gulfs between them.

Magic really was a lot more complicated than she'd thought. It all becomes so easy, she thought, once they channel this stuff into a wand. All wands need to do is spit out the same magic over and over again, and someone like me doesn't have to know how the inside works. We just have to be clever enough to spit out the trigger words...

Even just the physical materials of their spellbooks were different. Dynaheir's spellbook was small: perhaps three inches across and four inches tall; neatly bound in a very tribal looking pelt and dyed with rich protective pigments in a blotchy rose color, with beads and feathers laced into it. Her writing was neat and block-lettered, with each character representing a tight square.

Edwin's, Imoen had only gotten hold of once when rifling through his things. Since then he had kept it carefully secreted under his robes, even while sleeping. She could have nicked it again, she thought; but she didn't want to risk him finding out, and it might also have been trapped. Edwin's spellbook was a much larger tome in terms of surface area, but thinner. It was bound with a thin sheet of sturdy mahogany encased in leather and sealed in resin to stave off moisture. His handwriting was looping and elegant.

Xzar's spellbook, which Imoen had the freedom to to steal whenever they were on the road because he didn't really seem to take much of an effort to protect it, was of reasonable dimensions. It was thicker than Edwin's, and bound simply in black leather. It had the thinnest pages, which were by far the most numerous; they were little more than rice paper compared to Dynaheir's vellum and Edwin's sturdy parchment.

In addition, all three wizards carried with them various other forms of writing material on which they collected notes and occasionally engaged in spellcraft. Dynaheir's notes were the easiest to access, because the woman had noticed Imoen's curiosity and welcomed her to look at them whenever there was the time and privacy for her to do so. Imoen hadn't told Dynaheir she could understand draconic, but she reasoned the witch suspected something. Either way, Dynaheir said nothing about it. Her notes were always crisp and carefully organized.

Edwin wrote almost no notes at all, which seemed consistent with his thinner spellbook. Curious to see how he managed to ply spellcraft without burning through paper, Imoen had set to watching him closely over the last few days. When Dynaheir read a scroll from the Sword Coast, she always set to making all sorts of notes and diagrams to translate the foreign techniques into ones she could understand. But when Edwin was looking at a similar scroll—for example, the party had found some scroll of interest off the Hobgoblins that seemed to amuse him for awhile—his fingernails moved over the paper in whirls and shapes that were quite different from what was written. It didn't take long for Imoen to realize Edwin didn't need to write work notes; he could visualize everything in his mind with just a little tactile assistance from the feeling of his fingertips moving. It was quite fascinating.

Xzar was different from both wizards in that all of his notes became one with his spellbook. His diagrams were also by far the most intriguing. Using the translucency of his ricepaper pages, he built up drawings that were many layers thick, where one could page forward and back through the layers to see how they related to one another. He had a tendency towards circles. He wrote not only about magic, but also included studies on anatomy, botany, geography, and numerous other topics. The notes seemed strangely terse; almost like what Imoen would have written in review of a topic rather than a person's very first ever observations when encountering a new thing.

Unfortunately, most of Xzar's spellbook was also almost impossible for Imoen to decipher. When he wasn't writing in draconic, his notes alternated across many languages, only a few of which she understood. The necromancer's scrawl was tight, messy, and abbreviated. Almost everything he wrote was in shorthand or even code. But after studying the book for awhile, Imoen realized one thing was ominously clear: Xzar's madness didn't show through it at all, not once, not on any of the many pages she studied. Imoen had expected to see long winding spirals of incoherent word streams; What she found instead were the highly detailed observations of a man who could and would disassemble almost any problem he came across.

Montarson was right; Xzar was terrifying. The idea that so chaotic a person could be responsible for so pedantic a journal sent all of Imoen's sureness concerning the necromancer's relative harmlessness out the window. If he could think in so organized a manner on paper, what else was he capable of? Was he a danger to Aegis? He might have been.

That night, watching the storm through the inn windows, and once more having stolen a look at the necromancer's spellbook, Imoen decided she ought to start paying closer attention to Xzar, lest one day she find that he'd disassembled her sister.

It was time to head into the mines, and they were all incredibly wet; though that meant something different from person to person. The sky had cracked open the evening before, sending thunder and lightning spewing in all directions and unleashing a boundless waterfall of unending storm. The rain had lasted through the morning.

And when the party headed out, with the knowledge the mines were about four hours south of Nashkel, they met with mixed success.

Aegis and Imoen had been mischievous girls who'd loved to play in the mud at children, and with loving foster fathers to outfit them in all the necessary trappings for such exercise. When both girls had kit up for their journey from Candlekeep, they'd been smart enough to bring cloaks oiled against inclement weather and boots with good soles and boot shafts that came halfway up the shin. With Jaheira present to mother them a little, it only took some small work for each girl to waterproof her outfit. They had little trouble wrapping their boots to the thigh, ensuring their cloaks were properly shedding water, and wrapping extra cloth on their weapons to improve their grip in these adverse conditions. Of course Khalid and Jaheira were also dressed properly. Garrick,  likewise, appeared to be a native of the coast and was well-acquainted with Umberlee's tantrums.

Minsc and Dynaheir were used to a harsh and windy climate, but a relatively dry one. They were not quite so prepared for Sword Coast weather, but Minsc did not complain and Dynaheir seemed willing to bear the discomfort for the time it would take them to get to the mines. Monatron was a practical man, and he had not traveled halfway across the continent without learning how to take care of himself. Edwin's only limited school was that of Divination, and he had apparently memorized a spell which caused the weather to have no adverse affect on them. He did not offer to cast it on anyone other than himself, and leered smugly at their mundane preparations and mild discomfort as he walked brazenly beside them in little more than his red silk robes. He clearly thought himself incredibly clever.

That left only one person remaining to fail spectacularly at weatherproofing.

"C-c-cold," her necromancer muttered morosely to himself, hunkered over and hugging his own chest. Aegis glanced worriedly over him, and eventually reached out to feel the edge of his cloak. She realized the cotton had taken on a lot of water and she cursed.

"Jaheira?" she called ahead. "Keep going, we'll catch up!"

The Druid waved a hand to signal she'd understood, and Aegis grabbed Xzar by the elbow and tugged him off under an especially sheltering-looking pine tree. Imoen noticed the duo had stopped and turned around to come back for them.

"What's up?" Pink asked, playfully kicking at a puddle.

"He's not dressed for the weather," Aegis answered, reaching up to unclasp the necromancer's cloak and then picking it up and coiling it up. She wrung it, and water actually poured out.

"Yeesh!" Imoen exclaimed, realizing the extent of the situation. "Well he should be fine when we reach the mines, right?"

"Which are cold, damp, and underground?" Aegis asked rhetorically, flinging the cloak over a low lying branch and then leaning over to feel the necromancer's robes. His clothes seemed mostly dry... except for the bottom hem. Muddy and soaked. "Are you okay, Xzar? You're shaking."

"My feet are cold..." the green wizard admitted.

"Oi! Aegy, he ain't wearing proper boots."

"I d-don't have a-any on m-me," the necromancer mustered up a feeble defense.

"Well, we could have just bought you new ones; the general store was right there beside the inn. Aren't you the one sleeping with him, Aeg?" Imoen laughed. "Didn't you notice he wasn't kit right?"

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry," Aegis muttered, trying to think of what the best thing to do from here was. Xzar was wearing cloth slippers. They had a good enough sole for long outdoor walks and left little in the way of a footprint, but they were useless in heavy rain. "I should have noticed and I should have said something."

Xzar made a noise of displeasure. "I am not a ch-child," he told her. "I am not... your... responsibility!" She glanced at him. He pouted. "It rained all night," he mumbled furtively. "I listened while I prepared my spells. I did not think it would last long through morning..."

"I should have let you know it was gonna last. For another day or longer," Aegis sighed. "How big are your feet?" She pat the back of his knee to make him lift one limb up, and then she peeled the soaked slipper off and gave it to him to wring out. "Should work," she thought aloud.

"What should work?" Imoen piped up, and then laughed when Aegis stood up and started pulling off her own boots. "You can't be serious, Aegis!"

"Eh, I'll last longer than him," the ranger responded, hopping slightly to keep her balance. "Besides, I like running barefoot in the mud."

"When there's a fireplace waiting for us at the end!" Imoen disagreed. "Oh fine. You know I watched Edwin do his own laundry yesterday? He did it with magic. Just poof! and it was done. I'll pester him when we reach the mines! I'm sure he'll help if only to get me to stop talking to him."

"Be careful with that man, Imoen," Aegis disagreed with this plan of the thief's. "He's dangerous."

"Aegis, you're standing two feet away from a man who openly introduced himself to us as a necromancer. Do you have any idea how rare that is? Dynaheir's an invoker; Edwin's a conjurer; but nobody waltzes around calling themselves a necromancer! I don't even think most of their spells are legal."

The ranger was folding up both of her boots and draping them over another branch to make them available for Xzar's use. He shuffled up closer to her and whined, "What are you doing?"

"Getting you dry," Aegis responded. "Strip down and change into your clean robes."

"My cloak is still wet," he disagreed.

"I'll lend you mine," she told him as she reached about his waist to untether his belt. "Help me, would you?"

Xzar hesitantly went through the motions of assisting her, with Imoen protesting this was a silly plan in the background. The pink girl was just about to suggest they go talk to Jaheira when Aegis stooped, grabbed the hem of the necromancer's robed, and simply stood to pull them off straight over his head. "Look away!" their ranger advised.

"My eyes!" Imoen wailed, slapping her hands over her face. Then she peeked out between the fingers because truth be told she wasn't half the prude she'd just pretended to be, and she wanted to see what her sister was so interested in. "Ye gods, does he not eat!?" Xzar was incredibly slender. One could count his ribs through his skin, and the bones of his hip stood out in a sharp line. Even at an impressive six feet in height, the wizard probably only weighed as much as short little Imoen.

"Just look away!" Aegis laughed dismissively, and when she saw how badly Xzar was shivering she grabbed his shoulders and chafed them and the skin of his sides warmly. He struggled with his pack as she did so, his tongue poking out between his lips. Then he' d pulled the fresh robes clean, and looped them on over his head. Aegis helped him tug them into place. She caught the tail end of the material before the hem hit the ground, folded up excess, and used his belt sash to tie it up higher so nothing would drag. "Lean on me," she advised, grabbing one of her boots off the branch and patting one of his feet. Xzar did as he was asked, frowning at her.

Aegis helped him work each boot on and then laced them up,and swaddled each leg up to the thigh in the leather wrappings. When this was done she stepped back to examine her handiwork. He wrung out his dirty things and then packed them carefully into his bag. "Doesn't this just trade the problem from one person to another?" he asked uncertainly, and Imoen wasn't sure how she felt about his lucidity. Was he always this clear as soon as he was away from the rest of the party? Was this the reason Aegis could sleep with him?

Aegis unbuttoned her cloak, stepped back up to the necromancer, and flung it about him. She fixed it at his shoulder. Xzar looked understandably baffled.

"Better?" Aegis queried.

He looked down and wormed his toes about in her boots. They were still warm from the touch of her flesh. Beside him, she stood barefoot on the ground. He observed the lines of her body at that angle; the swell of her calf muscle, the curve of her knee. Then he looked up at her face. "But you'll be wet," he protested all of this. "And dirty."

"I've been worse," she dismissed, picking up his discarded cloak and pulling it round her own shoulders. It would help a little, though she'd be damp. "Besides, you look very sexy in my boots."

"My ears!" Imoen wailed. "Don't be offendin' none of me other senses now! I need my nose to sniff out treasure!"

Xzar's mouth pressed into a wide line and his eyes went heavy-lidded with amusement. Aegis slipped a hand around the small of his back and tugged him into a hug. He made a sound half protesting, half accepting of the touch. "I'm the ranger;" she told him laughingly; "you're the necromancer. Let me worry about the weather, and you can worry about death."

Xzar stiffened slightly, green eyes widening up at her. "Worry about Death?" he asked incredulously. A baffled expression crossed his face as if he'd walked in on something confusing or revolting and was trying to decide what exactly had gone wrong. He scratched his cheek, slumped a little as if staggered or overwhelmed by something, and stared out past her shoulder at nothing. "Worry about Death," he repeated. "Worry about Death..."

"Did you finally break him?" Imoen giggled.

"How can one worry about that which is already dead?" Xzar wondered to himself. "Unless perhaps she means the Mad Prince, in which case I should like very much to do the polar opposite of 'worry'..."

"Oh boy," Imoen laughed, "I'd wondered how long he'd be clear. Well, come on. This plan is stupid, but then we should at least hurry!"

"Let's go," Aegis agreed with a tug at her necromancer. "And don't forget we need to buy you your own boots when this is over," she said, before heading boldly out into the rain.

Xzar blinked and slowly shuffled out after them. He felt the pattering of water droplets down on the hood of the cloak. He felt the liquid course around him, but the cloak was too well-made and too clever to let the dampness through. His feet were warm in the wrapped leather boots, and he could feel his outer body temperature rise as his core no longer struggled to insulate. He watched Aegis chase after Imoen with a stick in hand, her feet already black with mud. The two were squealing girlishly and it pricked the hairs on the back of his neck.

He thought of his homeland and of the long road ahead until it would be time for him to act. His fingers drifted to the handle of the knife at his belt; but it wasn't really his knife, was it? That weapon had been taken from him long ago, and this one was not blessed. His fingers retracted sharply from the hilt and he found himself gnawing on one knuckle and tugging painfully at his hair.

"Perhaps she means the state," he considered. "Or to worry about the death that must be dealt. But why worry? It is only one death, and then only of a vase to free its water. It will be simple. The trust is already there, and the lies have been absorbed into the truth. Certainly one must be worried about it happening prematurely, but after its done, one can worry about Death all one wishes, to no avail."

He considered the Protection spell he'd prepared, and wondered whether that meant he was worried about death or a death, or Death, or some other 'Death' entirely, and his face bunched up in confusion. He felt the warmth of her life in the boots and the cloak and the touches she'd left on his skin; ghosts both of a newly familiar lover and an older and far more familiar master.

Could Murder smell of chamomile?

The unspoken question staggered him. He scrambled for his spellbook at his side, pulling open the pages and peering within, pressing it close to his chest and letting the cloak shield out water as he flipped frantically from diagram to diagram. Then he found what he was looking for, new and fresh with ink from the evening before: twenty new layers of circles and notes and the musings of a long-dead priest. The majority were marked with neat, dismissive 'X's in the top corner, as if the spiraling draconic had emerged unwarranted from the author's hand, with sigils at cross purposes with his intent, and thus had needed to be reworked.

Imoen caught sight of him while playing with Aegis, and her eyes narrowed. Just what was that crazy man up to?

When Aegis and Imoen finally rejoined the party, Edwin did a doubletake. Then he turned to see, predictably, that the necromancer had gained a new cloak and a new set of boots.

"A little wet, I see?" the Red Wizard drawled at Aegis, and Jaheira glanced backwards. She glared at what she saw. "Pity your demented charge is so incapable that he cannot even dress himself appropriately."

Aegis dismissed that all with a laugh. "I'd have done the same for you," she decided. "So, thanks for being competent, because I'd only have one pair of boots to split between the both of you."

"Are you masochistic, or do you simply think self-sacrifice makes you cute and noble?" Edwin asked her, voice dry in more ways than one. "Perhaps in his case you simply like to maintain your toys."

Imoen gave a big dramatic sigh. "Edwin, it's like you turn everything nice into something selfish."

"Everything nice is something selfish," Edwin disagreed. "If you do not know that, thief, then you are living in some fantasy world."

"You really drag morale down," their pink archer complained.

"You steal peoples' things," Edwin told her. "Do you think their morale is high when they return home from a hard day of work and find you've lifted their savings? In what amazingly convoluted dimension does your mind exist in where you are somehow better than I? 'Good' is a relative term, and you are still foolish to apply it to yourself. If anything, in your case, it means 'well behaved and malleable.'"

Jaheira muttered inarticulately under her breath and Khalid gently rubbed her shoulder.

Imoen frowned; Edwin was imagining her committing heists more suited to Monatron's tastes than her own, she felt. "I don't hurt no one!" she protested.

"Taking a person's work is hurting them, little fool," the Thayvian laughed. "Not that I disagree with your trade. You have the means to take things without consequence in many instances, and so you should do so. Remember, everyone is out for themselves, only. Your sister acts to keep her hold over a relatively inexpensive play thing... And you get baubles to faun over. What's so different about me except that I am honest about what I want?"

Imoen stuck out her tongue and rolled her eyes dramatically.

Edwin sneered and walked closer to her to lower his voice. "Speaking of which, girl... I know you looked at my spellbook; you as good as admitted it when you said you went through my things. And I've seen the way your thieving little eyes follow me when I am reading from it. If you so much as breath too closely to my work again, you won't be breathing for very much longer. I promise you that."

"Hey-!" Imoen frowned.

"Stealing a person's work is hurting them," the Thayvian purred viciously. "I guess that would make the retribution a form of self defense?"

Aegis, who could hear just a bit of the conversation, rubbed the bridge of her nose and wondered if she might tell Xzar to shadow Edwin. The Red Wizard didn't seem to perceive her necromancer as a threat, and if there was one thing Xzar could do exceptionally well then it was strangle people who did not rank him as threatening. Hmm. On the other hand, Xzar could be a little trigger happy.

She felt the brush of clothing and looked over to see her necromancer had flanked her. He grabbed the edge of his cloak—her cloak—and threw it over her far shoulder to shield them both. To make this work more effectively, he sidled closer to her and put his arm around her back.

"Super special body warmth rescue!" Imoen giggled, realizing what Xzar was doing and coming up to do likewise on Aegis's other side "Don't worry sis! We'll save you!"

"You are all fools," muttered a very unpleasant Red Wizard.

Remarkably, the thing that delayed them longest from going into Nashkel mines was that the leader of the guards could not handle the fact that he was talking to a woman who'd waltzed about in the rain with no shoes on.

Her sarcastic quip that she was half halfling and that Montaron was her cousin on her mother's side made the halfling crack up with laughter, but ended up stalling them for over thirty minutes. Eventually, Edwin's hands began to glow red and he started not-so-subtly threatening every 'monkey' around him with bodily harm if he did not get into the mine before his protection-from-the-rain spell ran out.

Since the guard wasn't really inclined to get between the mines and any serious adventurers, he finally yielded and permitted them all inside.

"I can't believe he got that hung up over me not wearing shoes," Aegis muttered in disbelief, looking across the massive stone 'atrium' filled with carts of iron ore as pocketed as swiss cheese.

"I think it was thine little harmless 'lie' that so upset him," Dynaheir decided.

"That wasn't a lie! That wasn't even a mild deception, and I worship Oghma so I should know!" Aegis disputed. "The Lord of Knowledge has no problem at all with sass and sarcasm! In fact he uses it quite scathingly in a good number of the stories about him!"

"You worship Oghma?" Garrick piped up curiously. "Well, I mean, I knew you were from Candlekeep but... He's an important god to bards!"

"And to everyone else who's ever touched a piece of paper," Edwin muttered. "A deity with little to no direction, to himself or to his worshipers, and who does little to nothing anywhere for any reason, even against his proclaimed 'enemies' or on behalf of his 'allies.'"

"Thanks for getting us inside, Edwin," Imoen giggled. "Could you maybe... cast that spell you've got that can fix how wet Aegis's clothing is?"

"Don't thank me, I did it for myself... And no."

"Pah-leeeeeese?" Imoen begged exaggeratedly. "I'll kiss you again!"

"Is that supposed to be a threat or are you actually addled enough to perceive it as some kind of a reward? Do you really think so highly of yourself? (That's pathetically naive). Either way I can assure you it is surely no form of motivation, as I'd put your eyes out with bolts of acid before you could take a single step in my direction. "

"Oh boogers, you're no fun at all."

Aegis shot Imoen a warning look, signifying how the thief should not push Edwin. Then Imoen spotted as Aegis pulled free a flask of what was likely whisky from her belt, and she snickered at the realization that Aegis probably wasn't in much discomfort- yet.

"Assist her," Jaheira told the wizard as Aegis took a swig of warming liquor. "You are dependent on her to take the brunt of the enemy's focus so that you can spellcast. You have no incentive to want her at anything other than at her best."

"I am dependent on no one," the Thayvian told her in a level voice. "Don't try to give me an order again, or you'll realize that the hard way."

"Barefoot spelunking!" Aegis cheered, capping her flask and then bounding inward to cut off party infighting at the roots. "My favorite! Spread out and interview some of the miners everyone, we need at least a guess what's going on down there."

"Did I not just say-!" growled the Red Wizard.

"Except Edwin of course! Edwin, do whatever you like!"

Edwin made a sour expression and Imoen laughed at him, saying: "You're never happy with anything, even when things go your way!" Then she bounded off to interview the mining crew.

She ended up finding a miner who was willing to sell his boots for a few silver pieces, and thus ended the damp and shoe-less escapades of one Aegis of Candlekeep.

Chapter Text

Kobolds were not as intelligent as hobgoblins, but they were sufficiently cunning to prove a threat, and their diminutive size and soft footsteps had helped them in setting up this ambush. The kobold commandos perched at the far end of the chasm on the party's left hand side were clever enough to shoot for unarmored targets. When flaming arrows came flying hard into the rear of the column, Edwin managed to erect a barrier against arrows. For himself, of course. Not anyone else.

Dynaheir perhaps ascribed to the idea that the best defense was a good offense, and had primed and released a barrage of music missiles. Moments later, a flaming arrow glanced off Edwin's barrier and skimmed her shoulder.

She cried out and grabbed for the injury with a cry, only to then shoot a glare at Edwin, who sputtered with laughter. "Don't look at me Wychlaran!" he laughed. "I am not the one who shot you!" She was on the verge of saying something, whether to argue or else simply banter, when a second arrow hit her dead on in the same shoulder and she collapsed.

Hardly believing his luck, Edwin backed up from Dynaheir with a laugh: "And the witch falls!" he crowed.

"Feisty One!" Minsc exclaimed, whirling back towards them. He spotted burns, choked up his sword and turned the full power of his glare straight at the Red Wizard.

Edwin's grin dripped away. Fire was Edwin's preferred magic of choice; everyone had seen that. The fact that Dynaheir also had an arrow sticking out of her was apparently lost on this simpleton. Minsc ran for them; Edwin rapidly cast.

"Minsc!" Imoen had seen the whole interaction play out. She leaped in front of Edwin and block the berserker's view of him, and threw out her arms, short bow still in hand. Minsc skid to a halt, sword raised high.

Edwin hesitated; he could kill one target with the spell brimming at his fingertips, but not two. Could Imoen swap to her short sword fast enough to take advantage of that? She'd surely seen he had raised a barrier against arrows. Was she smart enough? Was Dynaheir still conscious, and could she cast? Could Imoen actually convince this barbarian not to attack him? A dozen rapid calculations need to be made all at once.

"He didn't do it, Minsc!" Imoen insisted. "Help me shield her, they're going to shoot this way again!"

Minsc pivoted with teeth clenched. He looked back at where dozens of kobolds were pouring out from the surrounding chambers, and at the ones across the chasm who were nocking fresh arrows and looking straight for the vulnerable rear of the party.

Edwin made his gamble: He banked that Imoen's pretty face and pitiful pleasing would be enough to convince the simpleton of the truth. Edwin needed to throw the acid arrow now, and so he did so, casting it out past Imoen's shoulder and into the kobold commandos, where it was grotesquely overpowered for the job he'd sent it on and liquidated one of the yapping creatures head to sternum.

Minsc moved to pick up Dynaheir. Imoen offered her a healing potion.

Pity.

Ahead of them, someone clearly had enough of hiding behind tower shields and waiting for ranged companions to do something: A roar of challenge bounced echoing from stone wall to stone wall as Aegis charged straight out across the narrow chasm, drawing the interest of every last remaining kobold in sight.

"You look like a Porcupine," mocked a Red Wizard who sounded more amused than disappointed.

Aegis glared at him anyway. Then she winced as Jaheira pulled out yet another arrow. "I know I really hate Ogres," Aegis recalled, sounding remarkable nonchalant despite sporting injuries that would be debilitating to any fool who lacked access to magical healing, "but kobolds, I'm starting to understand I also dislike kobolds." Branwen assisted Jaheira by applying her own healing energy. Khalid was pulling arrows one by one out of her shield.

Urso was out sniffing the paths ahead of them, with a slippery Imoen in accompaniment. Between the two of them, they were scouting for another ambush, or perhaps a dart trap. They'd already found one potential problem and reported back to the group: A pack of kobolds who had heard the commotion and were setting up mine carts as barricades.

"You didn't have to go go out over the chasm," Edwin reminded Aegis wryly.

"I had to. I have allergies," Aegis protested, glancing at where Minsc was bandaging up Dynaheir's injured shoulder and feeding her some of Jaheira's conjured goodberries.

Jaheira sighed. "Allergies? To what? Good footing? You nearly took a forty foot fall with a very quick stop at the bottom."

"There was water down there! And I'll have you know I am highly allergic to anyone attacking wizards," Aegis told her haughtily. "I break out in hives, and my sinuses get clogged, and then there's of course the berserker trance, and before you know it I'm standing in a room covered in other people's entrails again. We don't need that to happen right now! I just finally got dry shoes again."

Xzar reacted to each new sentence fragment with a louder round of giggles. Jaheira was considerably less impressed.

Edwin groused: "Ridiculous. We could have used some of those 'allergies' when we were being shot at by hobgoblins the other day."

"Well, there were five hobgoblins on the ridge," Aegis told him conversationally. "And by the time you'd felled number three, I was up there. And I was not happy."

Montaron was picking up gold and baubles from the kobolds. Each one only had a few pieces, but together it equated to a tidy sum. He had a deal with Imoen that he got to do the looting if she got to keep all the magic arrows he found.

"Please do not run out over this chasm for the sake of any allergies," Jaheira muttered to Aegis.

"Ey, ey, pause girly," Montaron interjected, pushing past Aegis on the left. "Tripwire ahead."

"Infravision," drawled Xzar enviously from somewhere behind her.

The group had been smashing through wave after wave of screaming red dog-lizards, working their way deeper and deeper into the mine. The air was starting to feel different. The temperature was certainly colder, and as they party glanced downward they realized they were on a bridge of earth spanning a chasm that had no discernible bottom.

Edwin smirked to himself, murmuring: "Praak nau ved karon-"

Dynaheir whirled on him with an furious expression, hands raised. Then she frowned when she realized Edwin had not genuinely been casting, only murmuring the basic draconic words for a grease spell. What had he implied? That he'd push her over the edge and no one would be the wiser? The Wychlaran scowled.

"Did you just try and bait a fight?" Imoen told him with a dramatic eye-roll. "And you call me immature." Her arms were a sore from holding her bow nocked constantly; the ambushes had taken a bit of a toll on all of them. Add to that all the times she'd had to roll into a cave wall to dodge a dart or arrow, and she was more than a little tired.

"Never you mind, foolish girl," Edwin answered, quite content at having unnerved their witch. Dynaheir sniffed indignantly and pursued the party with her head held high, perhaps to demonstrate how 'little' she feared him. Edwin watched her with predatory eyes.

"What was that anyway, Grease? Ooh, how menacing." Imoen waggled her hands as she walked past him. "Wouldn't you think everyone would notice if Dynaheir went missing and the bridge was covered in super slippery black slime?"

That had been the point of using it as a taunt only, but the smile dripped off Edwin's face, and he watched Imoen with a sudden cold intensity.

Near the head of the party, Montaron gave them the clear to resume walking. Khalid paused and leaned near Aegis to ask, "Did you hear something?"

"Just dripping water," Aegis answered as she stepped forward and readied shield and axe. "Your ears will always be better than mine."

"At catching, perhaps, but not interpreting," Khalid complemented her. 

"It more kobolds?"

"N-no, I don't t-think so..."

Behind them and unseen, Xzar suddenly pivoted from staring curiously into the bottomless pit. His nostrils flared as he caught a stench like seaweed and decay.

"Aegis. Aegis, move!" he called out in warning. Aegis glanced back at him in surprise (she rarely heard Xzar actually use her name, and the sound of it was slightly alien). In her moment of distraction, something bolted out of the gloom and barreling straight for the head of the party; it leaped through the air as Aegis turned back to face it, its fingers like webbed claws, its skeletal teeth spread wide. She got halfway through moving her shield to intercept, but by then bony hands had snaked over the top of it, curled into her armor and made contact with the skin of her face.

And then she couldn't move a muscle.

Khalid lunged to her defense by trying to bash the creature away with his shield. He was only partly successful, but in doing so he made space for Xzar to get through. Xzar draped himself over Aegis's side and shoved an arm between her and the monster. It swung its weight forward to aim at bite at her face. Xzar grabbed it by the forehead.

"Slendugaaf zu'u wah dii ahmik uth faal!" the wizard commanded, his words so crisp and forceful that Imoen could pick up some of them from where she was standing on the bridge.

The creature attacking Aegis went stiff, and Khalid's second shield bash more or less bounced straight off of it. The half-elf staggered backwards for a moment, caught his foot and raised his longsword; then he realized that whatever the creature was, it was no longer attacking. It remained attached to Aegis's shield, one foot on the ground, one foot curled with the claws embedded in her leg armor. As Khalid watched, unsettled and nervous, it turned its toothy maw towards Xzar and tilted its head to the side as if in inquiry. The smell had already hit Aegis in the face: Overwhelming, like the worst possible stink you could ever imagine coming off a beach or port. It reached Khalid an instant later and he stifled a gag.

"What's happened?" Jaheira called, hurrying up to join them with Branwen right behind her. She saw Khalid's expression of nauseated horror and tried to angle herself to get a look at what was going on. Aegis' sheer size and Khalid's shield were rather in the way.

"Back up!" Xzar ordered, but he was not talking to them. Instead, the monster blinked saggy yellow eyes at him, released the shield, and dropped back to the floor. It stood hunched over with its knuckles brushing the ground. Khalid belatedly lurched away from it and covered his face to block out the stench; in doing so he gave Jaheira a clear view of what was most definitely some kind of undead monster. She coughed, covered her face, and held her quarterstaff aggressively towards it.

"Ghoul!" she sputtered, which did explain a few things to Aegis. If this was a ghoul, then it had some type of paralytic touch. It was the very same creature Xzar's 'ghoul touch' spell was named after.

"Tempus!" Branwen gagged, still stuck out on the bridge because of the jam of persons blocked it, but summoning her blue hammer in preparation. The smell was slowly oozing over the entire party. "Why's it not attacking!?"

A good question, but no one had to bend their mind too far to figure out the answer. Jaheira had always suspected Xzar to be a necromancer and Xzar had never done anything to deny it; Khalid and the other simply hadn't wanted to believe the full implications of that. Still, there was another more immediate concern than party necromancers: "W-what's wrong with h-her? Ae-aegis? Aegis are you alright?" Khalid asked, realizing Aegis appeared to be stuck in place. Xzar was trying to get to the bottom of exactly that question.

"She is paralyzed," the necromancer diagnosed, sliding around Aegis in the narrow gap afforded by party members, cavern walls and chasm yawning bare inches behind her. He shooed aside the ghoul as if it were nothing, and then lifted his hands to brush his fingers over the wounds on Aegis' face and neck. "But only paralyzed," the wizard sighed. "She wasn't bitten!"

Khalid wasn't sure whether to be more happy that Aegis wasn't about to die of Ghoul Fever or more horrified that he'd just watched Xzar commandeer a sentient undead abomination. Jaheira pushed her way past his indecision to gain access to Aegis's person. She felt Aegis's pulse and then threw a disgusted look at both Xzar and the ghoul.

"What have you done!?" she snarled at him.

Xzar whipped around to stare at her. "I've done? Done? I done prevented a bite," he told her as if she were stupid. "You're welcome!"

"You have just engaged in the arts of undeath, you twisted, revolting-"

"-necromancer?" Xzar finished for her, his lips curling in a vicious smile. Jaheira had known; one way or another everyone had known. Was it so different to hear him admit it? His green eyes were wide with adrenaline and his pupils were contracted to dots.

"Precisely!"

"Yesss? Aaaaand? I fail to see what the point of that statement was, madam elf. Could it be the prelude monologue to an attack? Is this my fair warning, noble druid? If so, you should know have a girl—ahem, excuse me, I slurred—I have a ghoul to stand in your way, hehe! So let's all be good boys and ghouls, yes? No?"

"What just happened?" Dynaheir called because most of the party members between her and Aegis eclipsed her in height.

"They say there was a ghoul," Garrick explained excitedly. "I think Mr. Xzar must have wrested control of it to get it off Aegis, and now the half elves are both very upset."

"Er, well, I was pretty sure Jaheira and everyone else already knew we were traveling with a necromancer..." Imoen observed slowly. "Maybe I better get up there and make sure Jaheira doesn't do anything we'd all regret."

"Push past me, and I could become upset," Branwen told her, because there was as of yet no room for her to get off the bridge, and she'd been walking resolutely over it while trying not to glance over either side. "I advise against it." 

"Yeah?" snapped Montaron. "Then you better start moving your fat ass, war cleric, because if Jaheira attacks him while I'm still caught over here wrapping up dart traps, I'll push you over!"

Edwin might ordinarily have added something sarcastic to the mix, but there must have been something special about ghouls and the control thereof, because he'd instead turned his attention from Imoen to squint ahead at where Xzar was barely visible through the column of party members. "How the devil did he-?" the conjurer was muttering to himself. "A ghoul?"

Aegis couldn't voluntarily move a muscle, not even to look at Xzar or glare; but she did hear everything as her party members shouted at one another. The stench of the ghoul was so incredible that Khalid lost his composure and staggered off to the side to heave out his breakfast over the floor. Xzar seemed unaffected, fluttering pointed witticisms manically back at Jaheira as she shouted at him.

Enticed by the smell of flesh, the ghoul began lurching towards them again, its eyes drifting between Khalid and Aegis. Jaheira saw the creature moving and perceived its motion as a sign of Xzar's hostiles intentions (as opposed to his inattention, which Aegis felt would have been more accurate). Jaheira spat something in drudic and natural energy coursed through her fingers, liming her quarterstaff in shimmering energy.

"Oh, this is precious," Xzar laughed. "Just like a rabbit you are! Mad!"

Aegis was starting to feel a tingling sensation in her body, the sort one one felt after a limb had fallen asleep and was just starting to wake up. Move. Aegis demanded of herself in frustration. Move, move! But she couldn't; she could only stand there as Jaheira lunged at her necromancer, brandishing her newly converted druidic Shillelagh with murderous intent. Xzar had to leave Aegis's side and fold away further down the cavern to get some space between himself and Jaheira; he simultaneously drew a dagger from his belt and jabbed his opposite hand into a pouch of somatic components. Jaheira pursued. The first blow of her Shillelagh missed his head, which contributed tremendously to Xzar's chances of survival. Jaheira was strong, and though not as trained in the martial arts as Khalid she could have easily broken bones with just one hit.

"Haalvut-" Xzar snarled delightedly, darting past the quarterstaff and risking that her second swipe might land,"-do slendugaafro karaak!"

"J-jahe-" Khalid tried to call out, but then was wracked by another spasm of vomiting. Branwen squeezed sideways between him and Aegis and, having successfully left the chasm behind, and finally taken stock of the situation, she apparently came to the exact wrong conclusion. Malus already conjured, she called Jaheira's name like she planned to come to her defense.

Jaheira caught Xzar in the side with her weapon, but Xzar's fingers came down on her own arm in green. Jaheira coughed out the front end of a shriek and then her body froze up as rigidly as Aegis's. Xzar stumbled back from the strike, then cursed as Branwen squeezed past Jaheira, her hammer held high with a fury on her countenance.

Xzar had stepped into accidental contact with the ghoul, and then realized he'd have to make use of it if he hoped to survive "Assist!" he told it. Delighted, the monster sprung forward with a high pitched shriek, throwing itself at Branwen with murderous intent. The cleric skid to a halt and made a wild swing with her hammer to try and buffer the creature, to hold it back. She hit it hard in the shoulder and sent it stumbling to her side, but then it had turned leaped, and was clawing at her armor, tearing the splint mail and trying to get to her skin. There was a chance Branwen could do something else to defend herself, as clerics were especially empowered against the undead, but the expression on her face said she was acting almost purely on adrenaline. 

Aegis... Aegis took a shaky step forward. She stumbled away from the chasm, dropping her shield with a clatter and grabbing at Branwen with shaking arms. "Xzar!" she coughed hoarsely. "Xzar, call it off!"

Xzar wasn't exactly responsive. He was pressed into a cavern wall for support, one arm wrapped around his ribs. He winced vaguely in her direction, eyes unfocused. Branwen shrieked in furious determination to keep living; she wrestled back against the vicious undead monster and bashed at its face with the butt of her hammer. It stayed latched to her. This was Ghoul Fever just waiting to happen.

"XZAR!" Aegis demanded, realizing it wasn't Branwen she needed to get under control. The necromancer wormed backwards, shaking his head with a hysteric grimace on his face. Fuck, Fuck! Pushing past the cleric and the ghoul both, Aegis limped through the dregs of paralysis up to where Xzar was and threw her arms about his head and shoulders. "Call it off!" she told him. "Call it off, no one is going to hurt you!"

He gave an exceptionally pained grimace and writhed in place for a moment. Then he seemed to agree, or at least to understand he couldn't kill anyone if he expected Aegis not to turn against him. "Yield," he called meekly to the monster.

The ghoul continued to bite and gnash at the cleric's arms; it was making progress getting through her bracers and did not yet seemed fazed by her attacks. A few more seconds of this, and there was a severe risk that Branwen was going to be seriously injured. Khalid had just finally stumbled to his feet, and Garrick and Imoen were largely blocked from interfering by the chasm, the sides of the cavern, and Jaheria's frozen battle-stance.

Xzar's fingers curled on Aegis's arm as he doubled over against her. "YIELD!" he shrieked.

The ghost broke off with a snarl and stumbled backwards from Branwen. To be honest, Branwen didn't look entirely ready to disengage, no matter how poorly she'd been faring. She seemed just about ready to throw herself at the ghoul again when Khalid grabbed her arm and braced his feet to restrain her. "D-do not!" the elf pleaded, not because he pitied Xzar or agreed with Aegis' priorities, exactly, but because he was wise enough to realize the necromancer only had limited control over a very deadly undead monster. "It could kill you! Hold! Please!"

Branwen snarled and threw Khalid's hand off her arm. She glared, seething, at the ghoul but thankfully did not continue to advance.

Aegis twisted in place to watch the ghoul for a moment, then Branwen. When neither moved, she loosed a shaky breath and held her necromancer a little more gently. "The stink, Xzar, can you... can you get it to back off a little farther?"

"If I must. G-go to your room!" the necromancer howled miserably. The ghoul wavered for a moment, blinking through the absurd instruction. Then it slowly staggered back from them. It looked from Branwen to Khalid. It shook a moment. Then it whirled away with a hiss and disappeared into whatever flooded chamber it had emerged from. The stench followed it, and after a few seconds everyone could breath again.

"The hells was that!?" Branwen demanded as the rest of the party slowly managed to slip away from the bridge and into the space around her and Jaheira.

"Nothing!" Aegis exclaimed furiously. "He defended me, and then he defended himself!"

"He attacked Jaheira! He used that abomination to attack me!"

"You couldn't see half of it and I was there, front and center!" Aegis bellowed back. "He didn't attack her, she attacked him! And he responded with a spell that didn't even actually hurt her, just immobilized her! Then you came charging at him! What did you expect him to do if he was innocent; sit here and let you pound him!?" Branwen frowned, deflating slightly as she took stock of the necromancer Aegis had virtually buried in her own bosom.

The peanut gallery also had commentary: "And here they were so sure you and I were going to be the 'problem' down here," Edwin mocked; Dynaheir grimaced and Minsc put a hand protectively on her shoulder.

Montaron eluded Aegis's notice. He had his short sword drawn and was slipping past the party members to get to the druid's side. He was going to kill her. He was going to finish this, and damned by the consequences. Things had gotten out of hand. Their lives were on the line. This needed to be- He felt a firm grasp on his arm and whirled to glare up at Imoen. She shook her head pleadingly.

"Aegis can do this," Imoen begged him to believe.

Montaron snarled at her in disbelief and tried to pry her fingers off himself.

"Bluff through this," Imoen whispered. "Make Jaheira back down by flipping her righteousness on her!"

"Ain't worth this shit-!" Montaron snarled at her.

"Your job isn't done," Imoen reminded him. "So do it clever like! Make her do the work for you!"

Aegis slowly stepped back from Xzar. He was quiet for a moment before evidently leaning the wrong way and exacerbating some injury; he cried out in pain and sought her arm for support. He was still breathing heavily. Aegis checked him for injuries. When her fingers alighted on a certain spot he writhed.

"He's a busted rib," Aegis realized, and then glared back at Branwen. "Well? Can I trust you to help me, war cleric, like you've said you would? Or are you only here to hit things?"

Branwen frowned and shifted her weight from one heel to the other. She was not certain how she had managed to misunderstand the situation. After a moment she nodded, and dismissed her malus to come up and check on Xzar. Xzar recoiled from Branwen's presence at first, but Aegis clasped him tightly to her breast and held him steady. Perhaps the madman really did trust her, or else he couldn't breathe with the surfeit of ranger chest suddenly in his face; either way he did not begin spellcasting or otherwise lash out.

Khalid swallowed hard as he digested all of these new developments. Seeing there was nothing for him to do, he turned back to make sure his paralyzed wife was going to be alright. It swiftly became clear that was the correct thing to do. First Aegis and now Jaheira had both been at risk of being accidentally pushed into the chasm by anyone trying to squeeze past, and when the ghoul-touch ended, Jaheira nearly staggered sideway off into it on numb limbs.

"You- you are healing that monster!?" Jaheira sputtered as she struggled free of her own paralysis.

Aegis turned a baleful gaze on Jaheira, a snarl curling the edges of her mouth. "You arrogant, judgmental bitch of a woman," Aegis told her coldly. "He was protecting me."

Jaheira was taken aback by the content of the response. "He is a necromancer, Aegis! I know a Moonsea accent when I hear one! He is a Zhent, and a perfect paragon of the Mad God-!"

Xzar, who had otherwise been calm enough, suddenly freaked out. "Lies, lies, lies, she lies! " the wizard shrieked at the top of his lungs, flailing against Branwen and Aegis and trying to rise. His eyes were maddened and his fingers were curled through the air as if he were trying to strangle her from afar. His indignation was so vehement that Aegis had to grab hold of him with both arms again to keep him from hurting anyone, himself included.

"Don't make me laugh," Jaheira laughed anyway, if mirthlessly, "You are exactly the kind of misbegotten slime attracted to his flag!"

Xzar shriekedincoherently.

"Would you like a dual?" Edwin asked conversationally of Dynaheir in the background. "I'm not sure they'd notice, and we could get it over without hurting any of their feelings!"

"Be silent, Thayvian," the witch told him. "Thy has too little to do."

"Xzar be telling the truth," Montaron agreed loudly, stepping past Garrick and sheathing his short sword. When Jaheira whirled on him she found him standing there with his arms crossed over his chest and a vexed expression on his face, but no weapon drawn. "Xzar's got a lot a lot of strange inclinations; a love o' Cyric ain't one of 'em. By the by, yer outta control, elf-bint. Funny, that." 

"Do not think I have forgotten you, wretched little assassin!"

Montaron picked his nails as if she bored him. (Xzar considered to rant and rave and debate himself; so far it looked like Aegis was keeping a handle on him) "I coulda just come up and pushed ye into th' chasm while yer hubby were busy and ye were frozen solid. Woulda saved us all the headache of ye."

Jaheira stared at him, livid but turning a few shades grayer in hue.

When she didn't immediately reply, Montaron flicked a glance up at her again. He reigned back on the urge to smirk.

"And why didn't you?" she finally asked in a low voice.

Montaron gave her a scornful look, like she was an idiot. "Aint we got a truce or summat?" he asked her. "Aw, that's right, damn. Guess ye blew it when ye blew yer top on the necromancer, and I coulda stabbed ye after all. Guess I got all turned around cause I didn't think 'good' folk like ye did that sort of thing."

(Xzar was getting more nonsensical. He'd jus yelled, 'I'll teach your grandmother to suck eggs.')

"Don't insult me," Jaheira growled.

"Ye wanna know why I toed the line just now?" Montaron asked. He waited for a moment to see if she'd say anything. Then he lifted a hand and pointed at Aegis. "I remember who the boss is. There are consequences for shivving bints and cracking helms in this party. And she's said summat bout not killin' ye. So that's that. End o' th' story."

The druid was deathly silent. Aegis took possession of Xzar. Branwen backed up to give him some air while Aegis restrained him from assaulting Jaheira for slander. The caverns were quiet for a moment but for Xzar babbling. Then in the distance they heard the yipping of kobolds, a distraction to save them all from killing each other.

Chapter Text

Imoen breathed a long, heavy exhale she didn't know she'd been holding. Gods bless that evil, evil, evil little halfling. He might have just saved the entire party. She was going to bake him a whole cake and spare no expense on the trappings. As most of the party hurried forward to take up defensive positions, but Jaheira fell behind with a numb look to her husband, Imoen made sure to end up right beside Montaron.

"Was brilliant!" she whispered to him.

"Ye owe me. Big time," Montaron hissed.

"Damned if I don't know it," she agreed, and planted a happy smooch on his ruddy cheek.

"Bah," he muttered, waving her away and trying to ignore the slight pressure that suddenly blossomed in his trousers. That wasn't going to do him any good in the current situation; and despite her outburst the other day, he had a feeling Imoen was just a flirt, and not actually keen on putting out for anyone. It wasn't a type of woman he was used to seeing in his home part of the world, and he wasn't fond of it neither. Alright, maybe just a mite more than he'd appreciate a woman who did it with ill intent.

Elsewhere in the cavern, flanking the opposite side of the tunnel and trying to gauge when she'd be needed to deal with those oncoming kobolds, Aegis took a moment to hem Xzar into the wall. "Are you okay?" she asked him. The necromancer snarled inarticulately in a different language, roiling in her grasp as if trying to get out of his own skin. She lifted him up a little from his slouched writhing, and nuzzled him as she did so. He grabbed painfully at her hair and armor for a moment until his shaking rage seemed to subside a little.

"It's fine," she murmured to him. "I know what you did for me." She dripped a few kisses against his throat and shoulder and then settled him fully back on his feet.

"Little Death. I-" he muttered and then cut off and squeezed his eyes shut at her kisses. She had a power over him, and he knew it. He liked it, in a masochistic way. Shaken out of his fervor by the alien sensation of safety, never mind its contradictory origins, he found himself alighting gently on a platform of temporary lucidity. "I'm here," he murmured shakily, lowering his head to deny her further affections and leaning his temple into her cheek instead. "I'm down."

She seemed to understand what he meant, because she nodded, grabbed her axe, and leaned to wait for whatever it was that was coming for them. "Can you throw the ghoul at them?" she asked him.

"The druid will be unhappy," he told her. "Perverse logic, hers."

"She can suck eggs," Aegis promised him, and he jolted slightly in her hold. "We'll kill it immediately afterwards. Is that fine?"

"It will not be under my influence for much longer anyway," he agreed.

"Do you have to shout the order so it can hear?"

Xzar nodded, sliding his arms about her waist and taking in a slow breath. The yipping monsters were almost right on them. He waited a moment more, and then: "Feast on Kobold flesh, darling thing!" he shouted past her shoulder. There was a shriek of delight from the pocketed cavern, and then Jaheira and Branwen and most everyone else was shrinking back as the ghoul bolted through the room on all fours, heading straight toward all those delightfully yummy kobolds.

Aegis laughed appreciatively, and got ready to run out after it, but Xzar held on to her for just a moment more. He muttered something draconic into her shoulder and she felt a warm wash of energy settle over her.

Protection, she recognized. She squeezed his hand, and then she and Minsc were bolting out into the channel at a roar.

Xzar remained leaning against the cave wall, breathing heavily and clutching at the places she'd touched him, feeling as exhausted and overwhelmed as if he'd just slept with her. And, like those times, he felt almost as if some of his life force had been stolen away and now needed time to regenerate. Such was the price of enjoying a Death, one supposed; even if only a Little one. So much had just happened. So very, very much.

Depending on how you were looking at things, either the ghoul did most of the work for them, or the kobolds did.

By the time Aegis gave the order to finish off the undead monster, it was burnt and blistering from the fire arrows, and much too distracted eating up the carnage to even notice their approach. This time, Branwen took her time lining up the perfect shot. When her hammer came down, it caved the ghoul's head so splendidly that it killed it outright, and brains squirted out in a cone behind it. "It's done!" she called out. "Piss, I need to remember my lessons about turning..."

Everyone with any sense privately hoped there wasn't many more of these ghouls in the caverns; the monster had taken a great deal of punishment on their behalf and had been unnaturally fast; fending off another would clearly have been difficult, and taking on two at a time might well have been impossible.

There was still a great tension in the party: a leftover sour flavor from before the timely kobold diversion. Aegis was closest to Branwen, but when Branwen turned back to see her reaction, she found their leader no longer looked especially angry. In fact, Aegis clapped her on the shoulder and gave an authentic, "Good work."

Branwen relaxed a little and nodded. She had not forgotten her own misjudgment, and she was reassured at this fairness in absolving her involvement in the matter. After all, Branwen had only acted out of camaraderie and warrior spirit! She glanced at where the necromancer was collecting himself and wondered at the attraction. Xzar was grotesque by the Northeim woman's standards; he was physically pathetic: soft, and weak. But he had been wrongfully judged after leaping to their leader's defense as surely as any warrior. She wondered if this was true loyalty, or some scheme in disguise. It was impossible to know, but she reasoned he had earned the benefit of the doubt in event of future altercations.

Montaron wiped his blade of kobold blood and looked up with shadowed eyes as Jaheira crossed his field of vision. A sneer came over his face, and he supposed it was well enough that Imoen was right beside him or else he might have lost his temper and spoiled the game. "Ye damned owe me," he repeated to the pink thief when he felt her fingers on his arm. Like Xzar had said, they needed to get to the bottom of the mine, and that was still a long way off. After that, though... He considered the tip of his short sword with a smirk.

"I must speak with you," Jaheira began as she reached Aegis's side. Ranger and cleric looked to her. Branwen backed off respectfully, but she and the slowly gathering party wanted to see how the situation would be handled. Khalid stood with them and seemed incredibly concerned and nervous. He wanted nothing so bad as to protected Gorion's child—to protected Aegis!—but things were not always so easy as one might hope. Branwen noticed his concern and touched his shoulder reassuringly.

"Infighting happens in even the most disciplined warrior troupes," the Northeim woman reminded him.

"Ha! Every day!" Minsc boomed knowingly. "And with pointer sticks than this, too!"

"In any sufficiently large pool of talent, provided there is personality, then there also must be conflicts," Dynaheir agreed. "The trick is in their resolution."

Edwin muttered out a grim little chuckle. "Really? If I had a sheep in my herd who followed her own interests over mine, sabotaged my authority, and tried to kill off one of my investments right in front of me? That little sheep would be mutton by now. There's only one way to deal with traitors, especially one who could come back and backstab you later."

"You should talk," Dynaheir hissed at him, but Imoen protested louder:

"You are such a meanie!"

The Thayvian grimaced at her phrasing. "Are those honestly the best words you know for expressing yourself? And here I assumed Candlkeep to be filled with books. Can you even read, you butter-brained little simian?"

"Of course I can read!" Imoen protested.

"I don't believe you. At all."

"I can!" she puffed up, flustered. "I can ready almost anything written in Auld Thorass in all Faerun! I can read Detheck, Espruar—both forms!—and understand more dialects of Common than I know how to name! Thorasta, Thorass, Untheric, Cormanthan, then Alzhedo-"

"Ooh, I'm impressed. Shaking in my boots, really. Who knew you were such a librarian," the Thayvian sounded amused by her need to prove herself.

Imoen kept listing names "-and Waelan, Illuskan-!"

"-Draconic?"

"Yeah!" Imoen blurted, before realized she'd just been tricked. She slapped her hand hard over her mouth and turned a shade of crimson. Dynaheir glanced at her in surprise. Edwin leaned towards the pink thief, uncrossed his arms, and leered with a dangerous gleam in his eyes.

"I...!" Imoen fumbled for a recovery route, but nothing came to mind.

"You peeked your thieving little eyes within my spellbook, didn't you wench?" he asked her. "Pay attention, because I don't think you were listening very hard last time: If you ever go through my things again; if you ever steal from me again; just one word; even one rune; I will leave your charred remains in a back alley for your little 'friends' to clean up later. Is that clear?"

Montaron was trying to focus on Jaheira and Aegis but the Thavian's newest line of threats distracted him, and he glance back that-a-way because he wasn't altogether certain he liked them. He caught an eyeful of Imoen, who looked caught red-handed and struck dumb, by the lump in her throat.

"Leave her alone," Garrick protested. "The last thing we need is more fighting! We're so close to bandaging this all up and getting back on our feet again!"

" 'Leave her alone!' " Edwin mocked. "Or you'll.. what? Burst into song? Your ability to defend fair damsels in distress is legendary, sir. How's it working with the She-Tempus by the way?"

Garrick burned scarlet, and stammered out something inarticulate.

Montaron wanted more than anyone else to slip a dagger between someone's ribs at that moment, especially now that there was little question Jaheira was a Harper. Her accusation that Xzar was Zhentish had made her own opposing allegiances clear.

Montaron couldn't kill her, not now, because Imoen had forced him to do the smart thing. But this? Edwin spouting off threats and intimidation like a leaky fountain might have cowed everyone else around him, but the way he so freely advertised his hostile intentions while Montaron was forced to bottle his... well that was making the halfling mad. It didn't matter that he agreed on principle.

"Just shaddap for a breath, ye pompous, self-important windbag of a wizard," Montaron muttered back their way. "Ain't no one proper listenin' to ye but yerself anyway, and me ears are getting sore from yer prattle."

Edwin sneered down at the halfling as if surprised to find resistance in this area. "The half man has a command for me? Forgive me if I do not bow down and yield to one who bends so easily at the whims of pretty girls." Edwin had caught the exchange between them earlier. He was a sharp one. But not nearly sharp enough.

Montaron raised a brow and glanced the Thayvian up and down. He suspicioned that if he were to eviscerate Edwin Odesseiron that very second in front of at least seven sets of eyes, he'd find himself with the entire party vouching to Aegis on his behalf that the gesture had been one of self defense. A feeling of legitimacy, of validation came out of nowhere, and it put a cruel grin on his lips. He wondered if Edwin had ever felt the empowering sensation of standing in a room and knowing every soul around you would have your back in a tango. Judging from the wizard's demeanor? Probably not, not even in Thay.

"Ye'd best remember I already travel with a wizard I despise. I know yer limits," the halfling told him quietly, eyes narrowed to dangerous slits as he ran a piece of leather up and down the edge of his blade. "Sleep with one eye open."

"My limits? What limits? Do you honestly think you are some kind of threat?" Edwin retorted.

"Me? A threat? Perhaps not. But the Talona's Flex I'm rubbing all o'er this blade here? Mm..." He had the shortsword tip out and pressed up against the surprised wizard's robes before Edwin could say a single word. "Takes ye about six seconds to get a spell out, don't it now?" Montaron said with a smile. "Need space for a few words. How fast d'ye think I can prick ye? Should only take a fraction of a dram to give me ears a nice respite."

Edwin peered down almost curiously at the halfling. His brows furrowed as he took a moment to reevaluate his adversary. Then he smirked. "Ah. And here I thought myself entirely surrounded by children and dullards. How nice to realize I'd overlooked a spot of professionalism. But you've forgotten you're talking to a Red Wizard of Thay. And if you don't put that down, I'm going to remind you."

"I'll believe ye," Montaron said with a and lowered the blade. "Yer paranoid enough to memorize a spell ye can cast with a syllable. Probably yer best, mm? Sorry to have bothered ye." He picked at the tip of his blade almost lazily for a moment and then his eyes flit back up to the man's face. "But then if I put a little Id Moss in yer stew t'night, I'll leave ye chasing glowing butterflies and soilin' yerself in public till the end o' yer days... lest the cleric or druid decides to restore ye." Montaron's smile slid off his face along with his pretend good humor, and he fixed the Thayvian with a socially dominant expression that nearly drove the Red Wizard to an act of immediate violence. Good. Without another word or threat, Montaron turned away to go back to looting corpses. Imoen watched him go, surprised.

Another conversation, the one they'd actually all gathered to hear, had gone on concurrently. Some of them caught the tail end.

"I owe you more than an apology," had been Jaheira's opening. "I acted out of turn and out of line; I spited your authority. The halfling, loathed as I am to admit it, was right. I was... out of control"

"Yeah?" Aegis asked. "Well, I've been there. Out of control. Know what it feels like."

Jaheira looked up to her face, but Aegis wasn't smiling, nor did she look ready to dole out any more absolution.

"Here's the thing, though," she said. "No matter how 'out of control' I get? Or Minsc, for that matter? We've never attacked our own party members in a blind frothing rage." If Edwin hadn't been getting educated by Montaron no doubt he would have found that tidbit amusing.

"Aegis," Jaheira breathed in a hushed voice, trying to make her see reason. "I resigned myself to say nothing while the Nashkel mines were ahead of us, but I always intended to speak with you. The man you took into your bed is a-"

"I don't give two fucks what that sentence ends with," the ranger responded. "Jaheira, you swore to me. You promised me that this wouldn't happen, and you broke your promise. How am I supposed to trust you?"

"Aegis this is not about oaths, especially not ones made with limited knowledge; it is about right and wrong!"

Aegis planted her hands on her hips and shook her head. "I see. So you get to kill people indiscriminately without my approval and in spite of your promises to me, all because you're right. And Montaron does not, because he is wrong?"

"Do not compare me to that-"

"I will compare you!" Aegis shouted suddenly at the shorter woman. "I will compare you, and tell you boldface that I find you lacking. That you are the problem!"

Jaheira shrunk back a pace. Xzar hadn't done much in the previous battle aside from retain control of the ghoul, but he'd shuffled up to listen now, and found himself intrigued; he wasn't used to Aegis talking about morality. No one was. He wagered they were about to hear something interesting.

"Jaheira..." Aegis gathered calmness back to herself before she resumed speaking. "When I was a little girl, my father taught me the best way to determine if violence was appropriate was to assume by default that it wasn't. To focus on who I cared about and who I was responsible for. I am responsible for you, and I am responsible for Xzar."

"But I am also responsible for you, and for the safety of innocent people!" Jaheira argued back.

"Don't you dare look me in the eyes and tell me you did this to protect me. I was there, Jaheira, and I was paralyzed, not blind, deaf, or unconscious. Xzar was the one who acted to protect me, and I watched you attack him out of little more than hatred. Whether that hatred is deserved or not, that is something you have need to resolve with me during our down time, not mid-battle and in spite of my orders. Do you think I didn't notice he was a necromancer in all this time? That his preoccupation with anatomy just slipped past me? He introduced himself to me as one! Jaheira my sister is a thief. I have a tendency to let people bend rules."

"This goes a little farther than bending rules!"

"You're right, it's about breaking them."

"Gorion would not have-"

"My father is dead! Everything would have been different if he were alive- but he is not! The decision to recruit Xzar in the party was mine, as are its consequences. It's not some mess I made that you now need to clean up. If you can't agree with or even respect how I lead, then I suggest you step back and think about whether you really want to follow me or not. You broke your promise to me, and with this many conflicting personalities, motivations, and political affiliations, Jaheira, those promises are all that really matter."

Aegis stepped backwards, gathering her thoughts as Jaheira gathered her own.

"Then let us talk later," the druid told her quietly after a moment. "Earnestly. In private."

Aegis took in a long, slow breath. "Jaheira if you attack any member of this party again, gods help me, I will bare live steel against you. If you ever successfully kill Xzar, I will not stop with throwing you out of the party." She stepped forward and fixed the woman with a steadily and emotionless glare, "I will kill you. Just as I would turn the same vengeance on anyone who hurt you. So the next time you're overcome with righteous ire, please spare a thought for Khalid and I. We'd prefer to stay on the same side."

Montaron, who'd successfully caught how this exchange had ended, perked up with surprise at the vote of confidence Aegis had just given he and Xzar both. Ah! Yondalla bless. The look on the druid's face was the most satisfying thing he'd seen that month, and he couldn't help but hide a broad grin by looking down at his boots.

"You should not lie to yourself, or to us," Jaheira told Aegis. "You are too filled with warmth to take the life of anyone you've let into your life, Aegis, and I see that in you. But that is a gentleness that curs and murderers will exploit. Even now-"

The ranger didn't blink as she interrupted the druid's impassioned speech: "If you kill anyone here, I will put my hands around your neck and press my thumbs into your trachea so you cannot cast. I will pick your head up and slam it repeatedly into the earth until I've brained you," she delivered in a perfectly even tone of voice. "Because if you think you've seen me 'out of control' then you don't want to know what I'll look like if someone else dies on me, especially not if the person responsible was someone I trusted."

Jaheira stared at her in dismay, not certain whether to call this a bluff or shrink from it in horror. Whatever it was, truth or lie, it was filled with terrible passion and pain. Aegis stared at her for several moments more, to make sure her point had sunk in. Then she heard a hollow smacking sound—everyone did—and much of the party turned to see a very dark and delighted looking Xzar slowly clapping his hands. Aegis brushed past Jaheira to address the rest of her party. She only glanced at Xzar and shook her head.

"Delightful," the necromancer cooed happily, as if he'd just seen something so wonderful it could scarce be improved upon. A similar expression on Imoen would probably have meant the woman was currently riding a unicorn across a rainbow with an armful of shineys and the world's biggest jelly donut in her offhand. "Delightful!"

"Your approval fills me with shame," Aegis told her necromancer flatly, earning a wide eyed reproachful look from him for a moment and then a politely stiffled giggle when he realized how torn up she must have been. Aegis turned her gaze on Montaron, whom she could tell was also hiding mirth. "Don't even say anything," she told the halfling. "Everyone, we've been down here at least twelve hours. From what I can tell, we're nearly exhausted, and we're not yet at the bottom of the mines. We need to find a ghoul- and kobold-free place to hole up for a few hours and rest, so keep your eyes open. Let's get moving. And... Khalid." The half-elf was looking at her in dismay. "I'm sorry I had to say anything at all," Aegis told him. "But please don't let her talk to me again till we're back on the surface, because I'm more than a little upset."

For their parts, Branwen found the handling to be quite appropriate, Garrick looked queasy, Dynaheir and Minsc summed troubled mostly by the cold, blunt delivery than the actual sentiment, and Edwin almost looked like he could clap for her, too. The Red Wizard felt it was good to see a strong backbone and a clear intention mixed in under all the fluff and trite babble. Perhaps, he thought, there was a reason she'd survived so long with a bounty on her head.

Imoen hadn't intervened or said anything, in part because she'd been trying to process the pecker waving contest that had gone down between Edwin and Montaron. She had heard what Aegis had said, though, and stared after her sister in dismay.

Jaheira wasn't the only one who needed to talk with Aegis sometime later when everyone's blood cooled.

Chapter Text

Montaron frowned at the dinged up flooring down the right passage. It looked odd. Like many more rocks had hit the ground than he could find there. Glancing around at the broken stone, he happened to look up and found crackles splitting out from a low overhang, where large chunks- unexplainably large- had been torn out of the stone. His brow furrowed together. After a moment he scuffed his feet over the ground, sifting aside debris and feeling carefully for anything unusual.

His toe brushed up against the corner of a raised plate, and he took in a slow breath. Clever. Much more clever than the traps they'd seen higher up in the mine. Were there more of these? He glanced around and then a spike of panic tore through him when he noticed the same blasted ceiling just a stone's throw in front of the party.

"Imoen, how about you and Urso scout ahead again. We need to be careful this low in the mines... and maybe you'll find us some place to aim for sleeping tonight."

"Right-O!" the girl gave a cheerful salute, undaunted by their long hours under ground.

"Imoen!"

The halfling reached her just in time. He snatched her arm and yanked, just a split second before her left boot came down on the pressure plate ahead of her. Montaron was light, and it took him a moment to dig his feet in so he could overbalance her. But it worked. Imoen glanced down, realized what had almost happened, and sucked in a slow, steadying breath.

Montaron gestured up towards the ceiling, and her gaze followed. The party's torches reached just far enough to highlight missing stone chunks and black scorch marks. It looked like it might be some kind of minor, magical explosive trap had been rigged to cause a significantly more dangerous stone-fall trap. Someone, maybe koblds, would then clear away the carnage and debris. But there was signs of it having gone off more than once, and based on the structural damage it had already caused, what previously had been a stone-fall trap might eventually become the start of a cave-in. Imoen could have buried the entire party alive if they'd been unlucky!

"Nice catch," Imoen whispered to Montaron as the halfling eased her back from the plate. She immediately stooped to investigate it. "How the devil did you see that? Everyone back up a bit! It's a trap!" Aegis didn't need to be told twice, and she herded the party backwards. 

"Intuition, ye might invest in it," Montaron growled at her, bending down so that he could also have a good look. "That's double ye owe me now," he told her in a lower voice.

In the background they heard yipping from a side corridor, and most of the melee fighters readjusted to deal with the problem. Dynaheir waited to see if either group would need her, while Xzar sat down to play with surreptitiously gathered pieces of ghoul bone.

"Well both times it was worth it," Imoen teased the halfling back. "But yeah. Any idea what payment you'd like? More coin?"

"I'm doin' half the looting," The halfling muttered irritably, still mixed parts angry and annoyed with Imoen for her role in Jaheira's survival. "Ya know... I could think of a few forms o... 'payment' I might be likin' though..." he growled low.

Imoen was wearing leather armor which had openings near the armpit for flexibility (a detail of most armor which Montaron's had exploited plenty of times with knives). As he spoke he reached about her and slipped two fingers up under her arm, sliding them into the front of her leather hauberk to touch the swell of her breast.

The girl jumped and stared at him. "Really?" she asked, shoving his hand back. Nearby, Edwin perked up suspiciously at the two thieves, and Dynaheir made a disapproving grimace. "Really." Imoen repeated, then snorted out a giggle. "That's the best you could come up with?"

"Seein' as ye owe me, Pink," he snarled, irritated more by the condescending way she dismissed him than by the actual refusal, "I'm not sure yer in the position to be saying 'no.' " He sneered at her as he spoke, thinking her near as bad as a Harper in the moment. All goody-goody, soaped and combed, with nary a thought in her head and no stomach for real work; and too good for real people or a real morality either. But Imoen glanced him up and down and then actually seemed to contemplate the offer.

At the sight of her consideration, a bit of the anger seeped out of Montaron and he realized he was in the process of extorting sexual favors from a kid less than half his age whose sister had just calmly explained the ways in which she'd be inclined to murder someone. Gods, he needed to kill something; the kobolds weren't enough and his anger at Jaheira was twisting his perspective.

"Forget I said annit," the halfling muttered, not inclined to apologize but wanting to establish an explicit retraction of the grope. "Ye can pay me back by not blowin' our heads off our bodies when ye disarm this damn thing."

Dynaheir looked away, reasoning Imoen could and would come to her or Aegis if there were a problem. After all, the halfling's reaction to Edwin suggested of a sense of camaraderie between the two thieves, and perhaps they were merely still in the process of setting boundaries. Were they 'together?' Unlikely. But there was some chance the halfling was slightly endeared to Imoen, and that had fueled his inappropriate behavior. One of the first ugly lessons she'd learned out in the world was that not all cultures taught their men healthy ways to respect a woman. Minsc had been happy to 'educate' some chosen 'volunteers' as to their errors.

Imoen didn't immediately bend back to the task of disarming the trap. A mischievous look overcame her features, and when Montaron glanced up again, he realized he might be in trouble. "So... what if I said yes?" Imoen said slowly, slyly.

Edwin was too far away to overhear them, but he'd caught at least part of the exchange through body language, and wrinkled his nose.

Montaron scowled at her in annoyance; then his eyes widened as he realized she might be serious. "There be prettier faces than this one for ye to tempt," the halfling gestured to his scarred visage, and he was glad to be leaning over because it hid his mild interest. He'd spoken with a gutter mind in an ill temper moments ago; but now, thinking about it, he knew better than to tempt Tymora.

"Is that a rejection, he-who-grabs-boobs?" their imp of an archer queried, sound amused.

"I told ye ta forget I said anythin'," the older thief muttered.

"Well I just didn't figure you as the kind to play coy, Monty," Imoen teased, leaning over to feel around the edge of the trap without looking at it. The halfling snarled and grabbed her chin and neck,.

"I don't play," the halfling growled at her. "So don't ye either. Pay some damn, serious attention." He jerked his chin at the trap, and forcibly turned her to look at it.

Imoen regarded him for a moment from the corner of her eyes. "You nearly started a fight, and not just with Jaheira," she told him. "And you did it because he was threatening me. That was sort of nice, you know."

Montaron pulled back with a surprised grimace, trying to remember if this was so. Then he snarled, because he hadn't remembered it that way, but it sort of was the truth: He had jumped on Edwin's case while the idiot had been spouting off at Imoen. Did that mean anything? No. He'd been as tired of the Red Wizard as anyone else.

"I didn't do it for you, Pink, I did it because I was pissed," he growled. "Don't put words in me mouth."

"I can tell," the younger rogue chirped. "You're acting as high strung as old Master Ulraunt. I'd point out the nearest soft squishy human to stab—euphemistically brothel-related stabbing or otherwise—but... well..." She pointed up instead of in any cardinal direction. Then with a giggle she began working her dagger around the circumference of the plate, peeling it out of the ground and inspecting the magical runes she found underneath.

"Don't test me," the halfling grumbled as they examined what she'd unearthed.

"No women and nothing to kill but mangy dog demons. Maybe if I simply fed you..." Imoen speculated aloud. "There is some good goat cheese in my pack and a loaf of sourdough. How's that for two payments?"

Montaron glanced at her. Then without another word he sat back to have a look at that pack, and went immediately to open the strings. She didn't protest.

Indeed it was as she said: She was laden with fresh food straight out of Nashkel. Montaron pulled out the carton of cheese and the loaf of bread, looking between them for a moment before offering them to her.

"No no," she protested. "I owe ya, and I think you need them more than I do. I've a flask of wine on my belt, should go good with it."

Montaron furrowed his brow, but then settled down in the dirt beside her to eat as he supervised her work. She was digging around where she'd excavated the plate form trying to find more pieces and figure out how the trap was rigged. If she managed to navigate it successfully she might even be able to extract it and sell it for prime coin. If not, then they could at least learn a bit more about how to avoid the damn things in the future. Or they could set them off some secondary way and cause an explosion. T'was a common danger in their profession.

"When'd ye pack all this?" he asked her. "No one else thought to pack fresh for two days. Best anyone has is jerky."

"Amateur mistake," she pretended to be haughty about it. "Aegis barely had any food either, and boy did we need it, blundering through the forest on the first day!"

"How'd ye get ta be so knowledgeable about rationing?"

"I was raised by a tavern keeper, Montaron. I know absolutely everything there is to know about the wonderful thing we call food. I know how it goes best together; I know how to make it; and I know exactly how much it means to people when they're trapped in a tight space together for too long and things start getting tense."

The halfling lifted a brow while taking a big bite of cheese and bread and then reaching to her side—much more respectfully this time—to take the flask she'd offered. "So..." he said slowly, "yer a tavern wench? Ey now, never would have thunk it, but then ye do have the breasts for it."

Imoen shot him an amused look. "Watch out, I'm armed to the teeth with rolling pins for battering off charming vagabonds. I am definitely a tavern wench, I'll brain ya with just a sauce pan if I need ta. Rawr."

He sputtered into the flask and coughed, laughing at that. He wiped a few stray droplets from his face and then broke off a chunk of the sourdough, dipped it in cheese, and offered it to her as she worked. "Can't eat it all," he argued when she looked at him in surprise. "Much as I'd like ta, there's only eighty pounds o' me." Slight lie. She'd been right about the food, though. He felt his temper improving.

Imoen grabbed the chunk with her mouth and finished fiddling with the trap's actuator before lifting a hand up to help her eat it. "Maybe I meant my offer," she suggested carefully.

Montaron thought about that, watching her as she managed to unearth the whole of the trap and twisted it about to have a better look. It was quite a marvelous little device from what he could see; one that could be loaded by creatures as dumb as kobolds, but was capable of incredible damage and hid itself so snugly against the floor. "If ye did," he said slower, "it best be a free offer and not cause I asked ye. Yer sister might could use some sourdough herself, and I ain't keen to cross her."

"Hmm, that depends," the archer drawled, and then tossed him the trap so he could have a look. He dropped the bread in his lap so he could catch it, and turned it about to look it over.

"On what, exactly?" he muttered, marveling at the craftsmanship. This was going to fetch a pretty penny on the right market. He'd show Imoen the ropes of that business while he was at it.

"On whether you're any good at it," Imoen explained.

Montaron lifted dark eyes to her. "Yer serious," he muttered.

"Women are complicated to please!" Imoen made a 'spooky hands' gesture as if telling a horror story. "I'm not so sure about you; do you have any experience with women that doesn't involve a red light district? What are your credentials? Have you ever successfully bedded a tavern wench who then requested a second tumble?"

His left eye twitched, his brow arched in complete disbelief of her. It took him a moment, and then he shook his head in dismay at her antics. "Yer one hell of a goose, Pink."

"Why thank you," she giggled. "I shall endeavor to remain so!"

Imoen and Urso were scouting ahead at the front of the party when the scent of wet seaweed put everyone on their guard. "Make a circle!" Aegis ordered quickly. "Xzar, can you do anything?"

"No, exhausted," the necromancer responded. "Minor disruption spells only. Lady War might be able to offer some small assistance; but insufficient experience to do much, I think."

"I can attempt to turn it, but I am not certain I am advanced enough," Branwen admitted, lifting up her hammer and permitting it to glow more brightly. They heard a hiss from a nearby chamber.

"Khalid!" Aegis called, but for once the half-elfin fighter wasn't sure he could join her.

"M-my... heart's really not in this," he sputtered weakly. Aegis glanced at him in surprise, then nodded understandingly.

"Minsc shall charge forward in assistance," the barbarian told her, sneaking up to join her side. "Now?"

"Don't let it touch you. Keep it firmly on the other side of your sword," Aegis warned him, and he nodded. Then the two of them went tramping headlong into the cavern with Dynaheir behind them, lighting up the room with their torches. Branwen followed them to keep the monster unsettled, if not in check, and to offer help in the event of another paralysis.

Just then Imoen quickly returned the group, with Urso bounding ahead of her. "Everyone!" she hissed. "Kobolds, they're coming towards us fast!"

"Tch, perfect timing," Montaron muttered. "Alright, I'll head down the passage ta get behind em. Ye back up and get ready with your bow, Pink."

'Pink' wordlessly accepted this as an alternative to her name. "Got it," she agreed, falling back near Edwin and Garrick.

Edwin was watching the two half-elfin tarts whisper quietly to one another. "I'd keep an eye on them, if I were you," the Red Wizard told Imoen tauntingly as she reached them, a remark which earned him a stern look from Khalid. Jaheira was too cowed to be glaring at anyone. Edwin smirked and added, "The self-righteous are always the most dangerous companions."

"Stop being so rude and trying to start up conflict," Garrick muttered, loading a crossbow he'd managed to find in one of the abandon guard's stations. It was quite a large contraption, and Imoen was surprised to see he not only looked familiar with the weapon but had the necessary strength to cock it. Doing so involved pressing the nose to the ground and stepping on a bar while pulling up hard with both hands on the string.

"Can you shoot that thing?" Imoen asked, blocking off a rebuttal from Edwin that no doubt would only make life gloomier.

"Yes. I mean, yes, I've used a crossbow before," Garrick told her, hoisting the weapon up and settling a bolt in place. "It takes awhile to reload, however."

"I feel so much safer with you fools guarding me," the Thayvian sighed.

Xzar frowned, looking around. Then he gave a delighted little shudder and abruptly said aloud to himself: "Ooh, I'm just never so comfortable as when I'm at least six feet under."

Edwin shot him a considering look. He wasn't certain what exactly to make of Xzar, but he could no longer dismiss him as a simpleton. True command of the undead was the realm of dark-minded priests, not wizards; and every spell Edwin knew of to control a ghoul would have been far out of this madman's league. Edwin dismissed the idea that the necromancer could be some kind of undercover archmage; it was highly unlikely given his difficulty in controlling the ghoul coupled with how badly he'd permitted himself to be injured by Jaheira. No.

Significantly more likely was the possibility that Xzar had access to spells unavailable to Edwin or to Thay because of his background.  Jaheira had accused the necromancer of being a Zhent, and there was every reason to believe that mages employed in researching the dark arts for Manshoon could harbor targeted spellcasting knowledge unavailable in other parts of the Realms. Interesting, and something Edwin would have to investigate for himself. Which meant, eventually, that the Red Wizard needed a thief.

For all that Montaron seemed easily swayed by promise of coin, and for all that the halfling claimed to loathed Xzar, Edwin doubted he'd be so foolish as to assist a wizard he'd just threatened and then expect to profit. Edwin could try using a compulsion, but there were better ways.

Far more easy to manipulate was Imoen, with her soft emotions and her malleable attraction to any show of 'kindness.' A little acting here and a little misleading there, and he could have the silly child led about by her nose.

Edwin scratched the edge of his beard, irritated at how it needed to be trimmed, and then regarded the pink girl thoughtfully. An easy opener would have been to let her glance at his spellbook. Loathed as he might be to permit such a violation, it would immediately lower her guard. At least he knew her too foolish to actually understand anything past the first few pages. Perhaps a cantrip or the first few lines of a fireball was a negligible sacrifice to make in pursuit of new magic.

Xzar glanced over at where the lot of them were standing and then gave a dreamy smile. "Oh," he said in realization but without alarm, "there's another one."

Edwin furrowed his brow. What? Then sharp fingers dug into the Thayvian's robes and he kicked out in surprise when something dragged him clear into the darkness of a nearby chamber. Immediately he felt his magical protections crumbling as they absorbed the creature's paralyzing fingers. He had moments to act and he sputtered out the words of his Burning Hands spell.

"Edwin!" Imoen shouted, spinning to face him instead of looking towards the onrushing kobolds. When she loosed an arrow his way, Edwin nearly lost his spell to curse at her. The thief—the only 'archer' in the group—could never possibly hit the ghoul with a low draw-weight bow and laughable skill! She was shooting into the dark against a foe whose body his was partially eclipsing-!

But then her flaming arrow rippled past Edwin with a glimmer from his Protection From Arrows spell. It skimmed past him the same way it had with Dynaheir, and buried headlong into the ghoul's gaping maws with a puff of flame. Edwin's robe of fire resistance soaked any secondary damage.

The creature shrieked right beside his ears, hauling him back further as Edwin twisted about and made a grab for it. Under his fingers its flesh blistered, popped, and released all sorts of ungodly smells. This time the damage made the creature release him. Dropped to the ground with a painful thud, and feeling how his abjurations had been largely stripped from him, Edwin twisted about to get a fresh bead on the monster. His face dripped into a snarl and he seized up one of his spell component pouches, throwing it forward.

"Sosshik, hi gro wah dii ahmik zu'u bel!"

Draconic runes bloomed red across the ground before him in the shape of an old, familiar summoning circle. The component pouch blossomed with flame, and then a hideous rolling mound of flesh and tumors lurched forward, bathed in red light. The creature- a Lemure Devil- moaned in pain and pathetic excitement. It would be sufficient to hold the ghoul off of him, and that was all it needed to do!

Edwin stood up with an irritated hiss, his fingers tingling with the energy of his craft as he decided exactly how he'd prefer to blot this undead problem from existence. He didn't expect for it to suddenly flee, whirling about to bound down a nearby hallway. He'd neglected to consider it might be adverse to fire. The Lemure and he laughed. Oh no, no it would not be getting away. Edwin Odesseiron did not forgive.

"Edwin!" came a Imoen's shout; not a query but rather a warning. What was wrong now? The kobolds? He had more immediate cares! If five armed people couldn't hold off a pack of yipping lizard dogs then they deserved to delay them with their own corpses! He was no babysitter and he was busy! He had had quiet enough of-

The ghoul stepped down hard on a pressure plate, right as a fresh acid arrow materialized in Edwin's fingers. The Thayvian didn't hear the click, exactly, but he felt the answering magical surge. He lifted his eyes to the ceiling just time to see small explosions fracture open the stone, shedding the whole of the chamber's roof. A deeper and more ominous rumble signaled the rock fall traps had gone off one time too many. Support timbers cracked and shattered on all sides of him.

The upsetting thing about the situation was not the ceiling coming at him, but rather the realization that he wasn't prepared for it.

Chapter Text

When Edwin could see again it was because someone had lit up a cantrip. There was an incredible pain up his left leg and numerous smaller ones down his back and arms. The Red Wizard blinked through dust and floating debris, dazed, gaze roving. Someone was hovering beside him, obscured by the light they were holding. Fingers brushed bits of stone and fractures of wood support beams from around his face and shoulders. He shifted slightly, trying to clear his vision through rapid blinking. His head ached.

Sounds. There was a ringing in his ears, and the light hurt. Ah! A moment of clarity: He realized he'd suffered a concussion. He tried to move, but that made pain scream up through his left leg. The light was too bright, and he closed his eyes with a groan, batting at it feebly- feebly! He should not have been feeble.

Whoever was holding the cantrip had the sense and decency to dim it for him.

"You're alive," he heard the relieved gush clearly this time. Voice. Place the voice... His thoughts were slow. The thief?

He looked back up to see Imoen kneeling over him, great slabs of rock and timber forming a peaked tent over their heads. A sneer dripped over his lips. "Yes, fool, I'm alive," he muttered. "What happened?"

Imoen laughed. "Cave-in," she answered.

"Yes, yes, I remember that. I'm not daft yet. You were outside the blast radius; so how are you here now?"

"I came in after you, smarty pants."

"And what in the name of the hells possessed you to run headlong into a rock-fall?"

"Because I'm the trap expert," she drawled with harmless sarcasm.

He snarled and tried to move and insult her simultaneously. Blinding pain stole his breath and he grabbed reflexively against the stone earth. He had to bite his lip to prevent from crying out. Imoen's face switched from cheeky to concerned, and he felt her fingertips over his arm as if the touch should somehow be comforting.

"You're pinned at the leg," she told him. "Take it easy."

Edwin looked down to see that his thigh was not occupying the same volume of space he'd typically been accustomed to. He could not feel his foot. Alarmed and incensed, he began sputtering words to invoke the crushing obstacle's destruction.

"Don't!" the thief exclaimed, grabbing his hand and smothering his somatic gestures. He ripped back from her touch with a fevered snarl, numbed to the sharp press of debris against his back and shoulder. "You blow that up and you'll bring the whole thing down on us!" she told him. "It's the load, Edwin, the weight! The load is being carried on a contact point just beside where your leg is buried!"

"Trap expert!" the Thayan howled with laughing adrenaline and flushed rage. "So, being an expert, you ran in here to be buried too? Need to be an expert at being trapped, eh? What use you are!"

Imoen scowled. "I saved your life!" she snapped. "You stood there like a dolt staring up at the ceiling! Like it had displeased you and you were picking which choice words to shout at it. I pushed you clear of the worst of it!" She gestured over at a large bolder embedded in the ground to their side. "You'd be over there otherwise!"

Edwin had no real memory of what had happened over the last few seconds, so he couldn't refute her statement, but he was angry all the same. "Oh forgive me," he spewed sarcastically. "I'm so grateful to you for my powdered femur, then!"

"You are such a baby!" she snapped at him. "Complain, complain, complain, no one else is ever good enough for you!"

He laughed at that, leaning back into his collapsed alcove. "That's because no one else is me," he retorted, clutching at his throbbing temples. His leg was going numb and he was conscious again of all the stones and wood splinters digging in to his robes. For a moment his thoughts were fragmented and roved helplessly.

Then something finally occurred to him and he frowned, grabbing her wrist in one clawed hand and focusing on the orb of light she was holding. It took him a moment to be sure of what he was looking at. Then his gaze flicked up to her from under a furrowed brow.

Imoen blushed slightly. "I couldn't see," she told him. "What was the harm in trying?"

"Plenty of harm when messing with forces entirely beyond one's piss-poor ken," he told her. "But you are a sad excuse for a liar, and this is not the first time you've done this. Is it?"

Imoen squirmed, glancing around at nothing before twisting slightly to the side and sitting rather than kneeling beside him. "Please don't tell anyone," she said.

"Why?" he asked bluntly.

Imoen shrugged. "It's not me. Being a wizard, that is. I haven't the talent or the patience."

He sneered, wondering if she really fooled herself into believing that. What a self-sabotaging little liar.

For her part, Imoen thought about her words for a second and then grinned at him. "I guess you could say I'm just a very good monkey."

He didn't smile. "You are capable of magic, and you prefer sleight of hand? Pathetic. But nevertheless this does not explain why you would hide it."

"Well there was always so much pressure!" Imoen complained. "If you could do magic you were going to end up a stuffy old librarian with no life. Pah! No way, no sir, not for me, blah. I had more exciting things to do!"

"Magic is power, girl. I say it's that you have no stomach for. Don't pass me trite little lies about 'patience' and 'librarians' when you spouted off the list of languages you can read only a few hours ago as if you were proud of it. I already know what happened. You miscast something. A little spell went wrong. Maybe you lit something important on fire, or imploded a cat. Whatever happened you became scared of yourself, ran, and hid. You're a coward, and the worst kind of coward at that. Most men are cowards because they haven't the means to be strong; yours isn't a lack of means but of will."

Imoen frowned from him down to her hands for a moment. He smirked, glad to have hit a nerve.

"So," he moved to the next topic in need of review, "if you will not let me remove this rock, how are we escaping? Or do you intend for us to die here?"

Imoen, for her part, was inclined to give him sass. She glanced at him with a few sharp words on her tongue only to take stock of how he was both pale and sweaty. She hesitated and then leaned over him and ran her fingers behind his back to clear away gravel and debris. He grimaced at her nearness, but let her pull his shoulder up so that she could brush out splinters from beneath him. He was stuck on his side and could not easily do it for himself. "We have to let them dig us out," she eventually told him. "Before you came to, Garrick gave me a sending. I told him how to get to us. I guess it's a good thing I wasn't the one who got hit in the head, because all you'd respond when he asked our location is 'under a gods be damned rock you insipid fool!'."

Edwin laughed at her plan, not her joke. Rely on the party! Rely on them to dig him out! He never relied on anyone; he just needed some time to think on what to do. But it was going to take awhile before his headache cleared, that much was apparent. "I didn't ask why you were motivated to hide your magic," he told her after a moment. "I asked why I should refrain from telling anyone about it. Does the witch know you're learning the craft when she so ignorantly lets you into her confidence?"

"Dynaheir ain't half the bitch you are," Imoen told him. "And I'm more interested in looking then in learning. I like books. I figure she sort of knows I understand a bit of the writing, but she doesn't see any harm in it. It's not like I'm going to steal it and give it to you, after all."

"Well that's the wisest thing I've ever heard from you; I suppose you do have a gram of common sense. A lack-luster liar, a terrible trap expert, a self-sabotaging mage, and a mediocre archer. You really are a jack of all trades."

"I suppose you think yourself an ace?" she asked him. "Ace of flippant remarks, maybe! You can tell anyone you want, because it's not like I've got any means to stop you. I'd just prefer if you didn't is all. I like having one secret."

"Secrets are d-danger-... One- you- hnrh" He blinked rapidly, wondering why his thoughts had suddenly failed him, and Imoen shifted closer.

"Edwin?" she touched his face. "Edwin? You're cold, I think you're going into shock." She picked a flask from her belt and brought it to his face, offering him a drink. He grimaced and took it, letting her lift up his head a little so he could swallow. The sudden change in head elevation made him dizzy though, and when he looked like he might faint Imoen cursed and shifted closer to him, getting her leg under his head to keep him propped up. His vision swam for a moment and he couldn't respond. Then he smelled something familiar and the world stabilized long enough for him to realize Imoen was offering him a vial. A healing potion!

"You," he hissed, disbelieving and enraged. "You had one the whole time?!"

"Just a sip! You can't drink all of it!" she warned him.

"You little bitch-"

"You need someone to set your leg back to a semblance of normal before mending it with magic or it'll heal wrong!" she hissed at him, trying to keep her voice down so as not to aggravate his obvious headache. "Trust me, I've broken plenty of bones before! Most of them, actually..."

Trust was not something Edwin Odesseiron did, but he was the not the one holding the healing potion. So when she tilted it to his lips he drank what she offered, and then there was little he could do aside from vaporize her to get hold of the rest of the vial. As much as he hated her in that moment, it did not appear Imoen would voluntarily permit him to die. That was something.

"How's that?" the thief asked him after a moment, pulling off one of her archery gloves and lifting the back of her hand to his brow. Edwin shoved her hand away in annoyance. "Warmer," she commented, and then looked up as they heard murmurs and the shifting of dust.

"Fools are going to collapse the space; if they don't just leave us here to rot," Edwin muttered. "We haven't a dwarf or anyone else who understands mines or caves."

"We have Montaron and Jaheira," Imoen noted thoughtfully, though Edwin chuckled at her naivety. "They won't leave us. Aegis won't. And there's plenty of breeze getting in through the rocks, so we won't suffocate while waiting, neither."

"Your sister! And she's currently running a party of highly devoted and steadfast individuals?" the conjurer asked with a laugh. "I don't think she can dig us out alone if they just leave her here."

"I talked to Garrick! They all know we're alive down here," Imoen told him. "Honestly Edwin, have a little faith. I ran in after you, didn't I? Well you can think they'd leave you if you want, but they're not going to leave me!"

"Have faith?" he asked, amused. "In whom or what? Friendship and camaraderie? Sparkles and rainbows?" Imoen rolled her eyes and heaved a dramatic sigh and then abruptly looked around. She felt over the ground on either side of them and then her fingers slipped down the side of the Thayvian's robes. He grimaced. "What are you doing?" he asked irritably, quite opposed to any unnecessary touching,

Imoen giggled, and then sat back up with his spellbook clutched triumphantly in one hand. Edwin's eyes widened and his upper lip curled. He grabbed painfully at her arm, his long nails digging into her skin. "Don't you dare," he hissed, the words for a spell bubbling up in his mind.

The thief grinned down at him. "That's why I ran in here Edwin! I knew they'd never dig you out for no reason. It was all a plot to steal your spellbook. Now I'm going to slit your throat and when they dig me out I'll tell them the ghoul got ya, muah-ha-ha!"

"H-Haalvut do yol ahrk-!"

She muffled his final word with her gloved hand, alarmed, and then winced when he bit down on her fingers. His nails curled into her skin, drawing blood as he flailed at her. "Edwin!" she exclaimed in a sharp whisper. He was now trying to gorge her eyes out and she had to get some control over his arms to stop him. Fortunately she had dexterity, bracers, armor, and significantly better leverage! "Edwin I was joking! Are you stupid? If I wanted to hurt you I never would have woken you up at all!"

He writhed for a moment more and then went still, glaring daggers up at her. Imoen frowned down at him, taken aback by how seriously he'd responded to the 'threat.' She shook her head rapidly, sporting scratches now not only from the cave in but from the frantic thrashings of a severely paranoid wizard.

"How the hell could that be normal to you?" she whispered to him, removing her hand from his mouth and shaking the pain out of her fingers. "Anyone could tell I was joking! How could that be conceivable to you? Remind me never, ever, ever to go to Thay!"

"You wouldn't last fifteen seconds," he snapped furiously. "Now give me that book!"

"No. How many fingers am I holding up?" she lifted three. Edwin's hold tightened on her arm again, but this time he didn't successfully draw blood. His brows furrowed and then he shook his head and blinked rapidly. She would not distract him like this.

"Give it to me!"

"Tell me when the world stops spinning and maybe I will," Imoen told him, brazenly opening up the book right over his head to have a look.

"Give- Stop!" he gasped.

"Why? she turned the page disobediently.

"Stop! I warded it!" he clawed frantically at her arms. "I warded it! Do not read anything! What page are you on!? Stop!"

"Er, five?" Imoen hesitated, looking down at him in surprise. "You did what?"

"I inscribed an Explosive Runes spell on some of the pages!" the conjurer hissed at her. "If you read them you will kill both of us!"

Imoen raised a brow. "Which pages?" she asked.

"Give me my spellbook!" he demanded.

"Edwin, which pages?" she asked calmly.

"I am going to kill you," he muttered desperately, looking around in disbelief, but the world was spinning and he knew he didn't have the clarity to manage most of his spells.

"Okay, let's go through them quickly one-by-one. Skimming page five. Dum tee dum tee dum!"

He sputtered incoherently in draconic, trying to fumble together a spell. When he felt the sparks of magic fraying and contorting dangerously around his fingertips he realized he had to give it up or he was going to conjure a disaster. "S-stop!"

"Hmm, no explosions, now page six."

"YOU KLEPTOMANICAL, ASANINE, SLUT OF A BELDAM! I AM GOING TO SUFFUSE YOUR PILFERING SKULL WITH LOBOTOMIZING WORMS! I WILL USE YOUR VIOLATED HUSK TO SUMMON A PIT FIEND, AND TRADE YOUR SOUL TO THE WHIMS OF INCUBI!"

"Mm-hmm, mm-hmm," She flipped the page. "Seven..."

"IMOEN!" She was surprised he even knew her name.

"I think you're bluffing. Eight-"

"Every page that ends in nine!" The words tore out of him in such a shriek, it was as if she'd just stolen part of his very soul. "Every page that ends in nine is warded!"

Imoen looked down at him. He was pale again and looked on the verge of a full-blown panic attack, with his clawed fingers wrapped helplessly around her forearms and his breathing shallow and rapid. She was quiet a moment and then turned the book right-side up, earning her a shudder from him as he realized she'd been bluffing the reading. Then she carefully turned through the pages, spying the number in each corner before settling on a place to begin her search.

Edwin said nothing, listening to the pages flip and knowing with everything in him that he was going to destroy Imoen of Candlekeep if it was the very last thing he ever did. His senses were coming back to him. He could try another spell, but he'd have to be swift. He needed to hold her off long enough to say the full incantation. He needed clarity.

"How are you feeling?" she asked. He said nothing. "Do you think you can cast?" Silence. "Well... let me know if your vision clears." The edge of the spellbook moved, and he twitched when she lowered it down to his level. "I think this might help."

Edwin touched the book, more to claim it than to actually heed her. His brows furrowed as he tried to get his pupils to focus. This... this was very nearly a cantrip that she had turned to, a touch-delivered acidic spell; very situational.

"If you are incredibly careful I think you can use this on the stone to carve your leg free," Imoen told him thoughtfully, rubbing her chin as she considered the obstacle. "It was the only spell I saw modest enough to use with precision."

Edwin looked up at her. He was beyond human communication for the moment. His eyes conveyed coldness and confusion. Then he looked down at his trapped leg. The sensitivity to light meant he could barely focus his eyes enough to read, but as his fingers twitched across the paper he thought he might remember the spell well enough to call it into working memory and cast it without preparation.

The rocks above them clattered and clicked, occasionally stirring dust; but there was nothing they could do about that except wait.

"No, no, no, don't faint, don't faint, not again-!" she breathed, lifting up the vial of smelling salts and waving it under his nose. He grimaced, blinking rapidly to clear his head and trying to focus on the present.

"Thank you, Lady Obvious," Edwin hissed, and then sipped again on the healing potion when she put the salts aside and offered it to him.

The angle he had to work at was awkward: trapped on his side, with an immobile slab of rock hung low over top of him until about the level of his ribs. Imoen had propped him into a position where he could reach the offending stone, though he could barely see what he was doing. She had to bend over double to get a good look at the pin herself, and she had one hand on his wrist to help guide him.

If he slipped, he'd either crush both of them or amputate himself at the thigh. Neither could be much worse than this indignity, but he toiled on regardless, worming his fingers slowly up into the rock limed with conjured acid.

"You lost the spell," Imoen notified him, and he growled inarticulately because it was true. Stopping to recharge the spell each time he lost his focus was slow torture by madness. Imoen giggled at his expression. "Come on, you're almost there," she rallied him, or tried to. Mostly he just wanted to reach up and dissolve her face off. "Lozuk hanzin haalvut-" she prompted him.

"Ugh, stop," he groaned. "Your pronunciation is abysmal."

"Yeah?" she quipped. "Well, that's why you're the wizard and I'm the lovely assistant, maestro." She fluffed her hair.

"If you were a wizard, I wouldn't trust you within a thousand feet of me," he muttered. "Much less with this task. Not only would you end up maiming me and killing us both, but no doubt you'd somehow also tear open the fabric of reality with your blundering."

"Well, when this is over, maybe you can put that big fancy brain of yours to work learning a, gee, I don't know, 'hold-immense-weight" spell or a 'run-really-fast-on-short-notice' spell. Or anything else that doesn't involve your chores, paranoia, devils or explosives. Then again, maybe you should just build a golem. That would be cool."

He scoffed. "Useless, expensive, troublesome things that drain the spirit of vim and spoil a wizard into complacency. A weak deterrent against an... inevitable... succession that... undermine a man's i-instincts... Nn... like ...wom... what... what were... damn starbursts..."

"You're not going to be able to do this," Imoen sighed, worrying a hole in her lip. Her words seemed to snap him back to glaring lucidity. "Come on," she advised, offering him the flask, "drink some more water and try to rest a bit-" He batted the flask aside, hissing out the necessary words in draconic and digging his fingers back into the stone around his leg. Imoen grinned to herself: There was more than one way to motivate an Edwin.

He burned away more and more of the rock, despite ominous creaking from all around them. He did not, actually, drop the cavern back on top of them. But trouble struck when he had managed to partially free himself and took a sip of healing potion that set his pulse moving into his crushed leg again. The pain blindsided him.

Imoen reached down to feel the pin and realized he wasn't yet entirely free. Any more tugging would only further fracture his leg and hurt him worse. "You're not done!" she told him. Nails coiled into her hands.

"Says the useless child to the man in Red..." the conjurer uttered blackly, because he knew he was trapped, he didn't need her to tell him that, and he wasn't sure he could manage many more spells like this. Imoen looked back at him, dismayed.

"What... Edwin, even if you black out, I'll be able to tell them what you want them to do, What do you want? Because if you don't say anything, there's a woman up there with an axe who is going to get you—most of you—out one way or another. We can ask Xzar or Dynaheir to try and cut you out with more acid... But if they don't have anything prepared that could do the same job, well... there, uh, there is the little fact that you've the perfect acid spell written down in your spellbook, which they could-"

He scrambled to grab at her neck over his shoulder, tilting his head back to glare viciously at her. He was livid and exhausted and nearly hysterical with pain and stress. He almost spoke the words right there again, with his hand at her throat. Then she'd grabbed his fingers away and was squeezing them in a way she no doubt thought was comforting.

"You're a genius. You can do it," Imoen advised him sagely.

She was correct about that, and he would prove it.

"Edwin? Edwin, I just had a brilliant idea."

He moaned into her lap. The good news was that he'd drank just enough healing potion to feel his foot again, so he knew it was going to survive. The bad news was he could feel his foot again, and all the splendid ways in which his newly liberated leg was crushed, twisted up and broken.

She'd pulled him with a grip under the shoulders a good six feet back from the ominous monolith he'd been trapped under. Each inch had felt like a hammer on his crushed limb, but once he was free he had insisted on it. To be fair, Imoen had tried her hand at setting the limb straight and splinting it with a bit of fractured timber, but he was too overwhelmed and angry to let her; and she honestly didn't trust herself to force it. Jaheira was the healer, not her.

And then? Then... there was nothing to do but wait.

And wait.

"Edwin!" she rubbed his shoulder. How much time had passed? Those fools really were taking their time in digging. "Brilliant. Idea. Edwin."

"Spare me the brilliance of w-worms," the Red Wizard hissed.

"Listen, I can tell from all the noises out there that they're off target. But your bats, spell, Edwin! The conjuration you did to mess with me at the carnival! Summon them and have them try to find their way out. Then have them swarm up and down to where we're at. The party will be able to follow them to us. Right?"

He opened his eyes, considering the suggestion through searing pain and pounding headache.

"Are they smart? Can you give them a command like that?" she asked hesitantly. The cave-in was heading into its second hour, and though she could still hear the murmurs and movements of the people above them, Edwin was getting worse.

The better question, he thought looking at his shaking fingers, was if he even had a single cantrip left in him.

Her light was gone and things were dark. Edwin had asked her to extinguish it when his headache had become unbearable. She heard the first crackle of liberation and turned her head just in time to see a halfling slip down into the rubble beside her. The first thing he said when his infravision pierced the darkness was her name:

"Imoen!"

And a rush of relief went through her. "Thank the gods," she croaked, a little choked up about finally being rescued. She shifted as if to get up but then went still as she remembered the situation.

"The bats were brilliant; was that yer idea? What's it? What's wrong?" Montaron asked, touching her shoulder as he came up quickly beside her. "Oi!"

"Edwin," Imoen agreed, "he's been out for about a quarter of an hour maybe? He took a blow to the head and the cave in totally ruined his leg. How wide is that hole? You need to get Branwen down here- or at least someone who can carry him up!"

"It's small, it's why I was first. Hold up." The halfling grunted and backed up, looking up through the breach. "Need a healer!" he called. "The wizard's down."

"Imoen!?" Aegis called.

"I'm fine!" her pink sister hollered back. "Get someone down here!"

"Gonna be a sec; there's a huge ass pillar in the way!" the ranger growled, glaring down at the narrow opening. Then she looked up at Branwen, who was shaking her head. "Can you shrug off the armor?" she asked. "Even if we manage to widen it, this is gonna be a tight squeeze either for you or-"

"Move..."

Aegis looked up. The word "move," alone, without any polite fixtures, was in theory a command, but it came delivered with an aire of humility, like a maternal offering. Aegis stepped back quickly and then Jaheira was swinging herself down through the breach. She landed next to Montaron and with a glance at the halfling she strode up beside Imoen.

"Jaheira!" Imoen exclaimed, relieved beyond words to see the druid. "It's his leg and his head! Can you do anything? I have healing potions, but I didn't trust myself to set it!"

"It's well you didn't," the druid murmured as she examined the twisted thigh and felt carefully over the man's scalp. "He will be fine," Jaheira decided. "Help me lie him flat. I have skill enough to put the leg on the mend, but we will need to split it regardless till morning."

Imoen scampered to help, and bit her lip as she watched the druid work. "Thank you," she blurted after the first prayer of healing had been administered and Jaheira had solicited her assistance in splinting the leg. "For coming! For coming back? I guess you didn't leave. For- I know he's an utter pig head, and now I think I even hate him worse than ever, but thank you."

Jaheira just clasped her shoulder wordlessly in half an embrace, and then went back to mending him. They finished the split and Jaheira shifted to mend the wizard's bruised cranium as Imoen scooted back to give her space.

Montaron came up behind the archer girl then and put his hand on her shoulder. "The devil were ye doin'?" he hissed to her. "By rights ye should be dead."

"What?" Imoen asked.

"Don't play dumb, I watched ye bolt straight into this shit. Ye could o' died, Pink. And not 'xactly for the sake of a bloke who deserved it."

"I had to do something!" she exclaimed.

"Ye think half the group would o' stayed to dig him out if he were alone? Ye think that daft bard would o' missed him enough to realize there might be o' way ta contact him? No. We wouldn't o' even know he were alive under this. Woulda just had to shrug our shoulders and move on."

Imoen bristled slightly, but... the last couple hours had taught her that some people simply didn't do 'good' very well, and one needed to read between the cracks to understand their motives. She shifted about on her knees for a moment and then lifted up a hand and placed it warmly on the halfling's own.

"Thank you for worrying," she said. "But I'm a little shaken right now, so could you please not lecture me for awhile?"

Montaron was quiet for a moment. "Yeah. Yeah, sure kid... Come on. Let's get ye up first; Jaheira can carry this one up after ye."

Chapter Text

Branwen carried the wizard bridal style away from the cave-in and over to the chambers where the group had set up camp. This wasn't because Branwen had any special affection for the wizard; far to the contrary! But the party was acting like a united team again, and Aegis had been too busy squeezing the life out of Imoen.

"Ribs!" the thief protested in a croak.

"Ribs!?" the ranger exclaimed. "Immy! Immy Immy Immy! I buried my father in a cairn on the roadside just over a month ago! This a giant pile of rocks! You were buried in it! And you're talking to me about ribs?! Imm, if you die, I am chasing down your violet ass in HELL to cuss you out so bad-!"

"Hell!?" Imoen wailed in dismay. "No way! I get to go to the giant library in the sky!"

"Then I will be aggressively and indiscriminately breaking some very important 'whispering-voices-only' policies!"

"Look! An injured wizard!"

"Gaahh!"

"A terribly, terribly, terribly injured wizard! In red, your favorite color. Gasp! We should go over and investigate his condition!"

"Aauuuggghaaahh. Alright. Alright, you've got me. Damn it. Mine. My sister. Gah."

It took a few moments more to finally persuade Aegis to set her down. The whole group was shambling towards the camp, some members more worn down than others. Most of them took the time to give Imoen a relieved smile or clasp one of her shoulders. AT camp, Khalid had to lay down almost immediately. Keeping pace with Aegis and Minsc in digging them free had been no easy task. Xzar sat down upon and was about to curl up on the bare naked stone when Aegis took notice and hurried over to harass him into taking proper care of himself.

In sum, all this had taken five hours. Five hours from cave-in to rescue. Imoen was glad there'd been sufficient air getting through the rocks, or the two of them could have ended up entombed down there. She stood at the entryway to their camp for a moment, grateful for everyone in it. Montaron came up beside her and patted her on the shoulder.

"It's a closed system on one side, with just another cave in the back. Out here's the only real entrance. There's some good ventilation and the druid cleared the pool o' water o'er there for drinkin'."

"You guys lit a fire," Imoen laughed. "Underground!"

"Like I said, good ventilation..." He glanced at her. "Ye sure yer fine?" he asked with uncharacteristic but carefully veiled concern.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm good," she said, nodding to herself. "Not much happened to hurt me; I'm just a little dusty and scratched is all." She took in a big breath and then let out a relieved sigh. "So what happened up here? The kobolds and ghoul were all dealt with and then...? What happened next?"

"Well the bard figured out he had a means to tell if ye were alive. Which was important, 'cause I think the witch-woman and the cleric were trying to figure out how ta tell Aegis it were hopeless. After what she'd said about braining people just an hour back, I wasn't thinkin' that conversation was gonna go over too well."

"You guys almost left me!?"

"Kid, ye dove straight into a cave in, and that's what I told em! Fer most people, that means 'dead'!"

"Well geez Montaron, thanks for the vote of confidence. I knew what I was doing."

"Well ye done fooled me about it!" he snarled back up at her.

"Did everyone dig?" Imoen asked slowly, noticing the way even the part necromancer was rubbing kinks out of his arms.

"Aye. Well, the rangers did most o' the work. The bard stood watch and I scouted out to kill any patrols before they could stumble in on us. Most everyone was exhausted and had to strip down outta their armor not ta overheat. Woulda been a mess if any o' them kobolds had gotten in there. Why d'ya ask? Don't ye know yer everyone's favorite?"

She arched a disbelieving brow at him and he chuckled.

"Well, okay. Maybe Xzar only helped cause he saw everyone else doing it and just copied. Or maybe he was hopin' fer Edwin's liver."

"Yeah, that makes more sense," Imoen giggled. Then she sighed and rubbed her face. "Oof, long day for all of us then. That was right stressful that was."

"Yer tellin' me. Was more stressful for us than for you; we were the ones who had to not drop it all on ye!"

"Nyah! Shows how much you know, I was stuck down there with the ungrateful god of mages! Hey! Does that mean I'm your favorite, too?"

"My favorite tavern wench? Hrm, It depends." He rubbed his chin. "How good are ye at laundry and housekeepin'?"

She smacked the halfling upside the back of his head and he cackled out a laugh.

Aegis tried to rejoin them after seeing Xzar to bed, but Imoen planted her hands on her hips and told her. "Go to sleep, silly! You're shaking you're so tired!"

Aegis made a displeased face, looking down at her hands and then dusting them off against her slacks. "What about Odesseiron?" her older sister asked her. "Someone needs to keep an eye on him who isn't Jaheira."

"Well I'm not dead on my feet just yet," the younger supposed, "So I'll stay up with Branwen and Jaheira for a bit to make sure he's okay."

"We just pulled you out of a cave-in!" the taller of the two sisters protested.

"Bah, that was easy on me!" the shorter replied, "Nothing much hit me on the way in, and after that the only thing hitting me was hitting me in the eardrums. You know what? I'll even take watch!"

Aegis stood there for a moment and then gave a big, relieved sigh, and came up to hug her sister fiercely. "Okay," she acquiesced fondly, and then she turned about and headed over to curl up with her bizarre choice in sleeping companion. Xzar mumbled something about unicorns and pumpkin pie, and blearily asked her if she had any leeches. Aegis wrapped her arms about him and buried her face in his hair and the two of them were asleep almost immediately.

"I'll take watch after you," Garrick offered Imoen a moment later, coming up beside her. He'd taken a glancing slash on the cheek from a kobold arrow, and the burn looked only half-healed. He was lucky it hadn't hit his eye.

"Aye, we'll take turns, especially seein' as we'll all have to be alert and fighting tomorrow."

"Unlikely," Jaheira called, standing up and wiping a few droplets of blood from her fingertips. "Branwen and I will be able to finish mending him and the rest of the party tomorrow morning, but we will utterly exhaust our energy. Unless we want to go further into the mines with only seven small healing potions and no other backup, we will need to tarry here a day."

"What did you do?" Imoen asked worriedly at the sight of blood.

"We corrected a few improper fusings of the bone. Fortunately the unconscious make for compliant patients."

"Yowch," Imoen winced, "that sounds painful. Will he be alright?"

"If we do this properly come morning? Yes. He will have some muscle weakness for a few days afterward. I will discuss these things with Aegis on waking. For now... I must meditate and regain my strength." Behind her, Branwen finished up bundling the Thayvian in extra cloaks for warmth before staggering off to bed without another word. "Are the three of you taking watch then?"

"Aye," Montaron agreed, eyeing the woman with more than a little naked hatred.

"Then keep an eye on him," Jaheira advised. "And wake me if there is a situation." She didn't deliver any insults or warnings to Montaron about his moral suitability for watch duty, and instead headed straight for Khalid and her palette. It was a nice change of pace, though as with everything Jaheira did or didn't do, it sort of just made Montaron want to stab her more.

Garrick yawned, reminded Imoen to wake him, and then headed off to get some shut eye before his watch. Imoen watched him go and then eventually moseyed over to Edwin to have a look at the injured wizard. Most of the party hadn't bothered to bring their camping gear on this underground expedition, but Aegis, Branwen, and Khalid must have at least packed blankets. Imoen could see all three had donated their cloaks for injured-Thayvian-bundling purposes.

Edwin looked frail and sick in contrast against the sheer red pigment of his robes, and Imoen frowned a little. "He's much nicer when unconscious," she decided, but her voice was sympathetic.

Imoen felt a gentle touch on her arm and then looked back to see Montaron hadn't drifted off to bed yet. Most everyone else was sleeping; Dynaheir was studying her spellbook quietly off beside the giant slumbering Minsc mound. Boo was sitting on the witch's head in the most adorable fashion imaginable.

Montaron was looking up at Imoen with dark eyes, regarding her quietly without lifting his head as if he had something deadly serious or even threatening to say to her. "What's up?" she asked him, uncertain at his intensity.

He glanced at the ground, shifting his balance from one foot to the other, and then his eyes flicked back up to her. "I was worried about ye," he said then, his voice low. "Thought for sure ye were dead." Imoen turned fully towards him in surprise. "Couldn't even get close till them kobolds were finished and… by then it were already done and over with, and the dust was settlin'. Was no sign o' ye then; just a hell of a lot o' big rocks..."

"Montaron…" she said slowly, not sure what direction this was headed, but warmed extensively by his concern. It was difficult to talk exactly face-to-face with the halfling without leaning over patronizingly and bracing her hands on her thighs, but she resisted the impulse to do so. At just a little over four feet in height, Montaron only came up to Imoen's chest. Their height difference was neither large enough that she could kneel nor small enough for her to stand; either way one of them had to look down.

"Thought for sure ye'd be dead."

"Well, I'm quite alive," she promised him. "So you were wrong!"

He shook his head and laughed, raking fingers through his hair. "I said to meself: Damn fool, when ye die yer goin ta burn in th' hells fer sure; last thing ye ever said to the kid and ye had to cop a feel."

Imoen tilted her head, a smile working over her face as she dropped her weight into a curvaceous pose with one hip raised, one shoulder lowered, and her arms crossed thoughtfully over her chest. "Well, you know what? I think I remember hearing about this story. Aannddd if memory serves, I believe the 'kid' took the fool halfling up on his offer! Only he didn't end up having the balls to follow through with it. Pity, that."

Montaron looked back up at her and lowered his hand, his expression settling into perceptive intensity as he stared at her.

"Ye meant that? Ye mean that?"

"I nearly died today. A virgin. You bet your short little arse I mean it. Do you need me to say it explicitly? I'm offering. On the condition you never call me 'kid' again in our lives, because that would be weird," she told him, lifting up a hand. "Well?"

He wet his lips and nodded, coming up very close to her and grasping her hand. "Deal," he growled gently, brushing dust and debris from her armor. "When?"

"Mm…" she thought about the question. "Tomorrow?"

He snorted. "Did ye hear the part where we'll be still down here tomorrow?"

"Yes, I heard. A whole day with no healing; a day where we can't move forward, have to stay in this boring cave, and can take long naps long into the afternoon. After extensive exercises in the early morning hours while our entire party is exhausted and most of the members are still unconscious, of course."

His eyes widened appreciatively as he listened to her; he tilted his head and grinned in pleasant surprise. "In the back cavern? Ye sure? Ye've a dirtier mind than I credited ye with, Pink."

"And you've not dirty enough," she winked.

"Heh, don't accuse me o' that," he told her, stepping into her and slipping a hand down her side and hip to rest at her thigh. "Morning then. I'll wake ye."

Imoen nodded and then leaned down a bit when he tugged on her cowl. He kissed her lightly at first. Imoen yielded to the touch; so he eased a hand about the back of her neck and pulled her mouth down into his as she steadied herself on his shoulders.

For a moment, the outside world and its concerns did not exist; and she registered that her 'unsavory' choice in partner was actually being quite gentle. Then he released the nape of her neck so she could stand, and he backed up a step. "Sleep hard when yer watch ends, then. Ye'll need it."

"I can only hope," she sighed wistfully, earning her a soft growl.

"Ye just wait, Pink. Just wait." He fixed her with a wolfish grin, then released her and stepped back to turn around and head to sleep. She watched him walk, noticing a suspicious lack of slouch and maybe a wee little bit of hop. It brought a smile to her face.

Dynaheir was glad for her soft-soled boots as she slipped quietly over the ground. This thing she was about to do was not the most noble of solutions, but after extensive meditation she concluded it was necessary. Coming up alongside the injured Thayvian, she lamented her choice but suffered no hesitation. Edwin was a danger to herself, to Minsc, and to the entire party; and she could not ignore the opportunity his injuries presented. She had to neutralize him; this was the best way.

Stooping at the Thayvian's side, Dynaheir reached down bare handed to carefully sift side cloaks and red colored silk. She was as ginger as she could be. A moment later she stood, clutching a red leather-bound tome in hand.

The laws of the land and the laws of the party were clear. Although sabotage was unsavory it was nowhere near severe as murder; and nowhere near as foolish as waiting for the enemy to strike first.

Returning to the paltry little fire, Dynaheir took some time to feed it with bits of rope and kobold shortbows. When it was large enough she stood and held the red book out above it.

"What are you doing?"

Dynaheir blinked, looking up to see Imoen was watching her from across the fire. "Ah, child, my apologies to make thee privy to this."

"That's Edwin's spellbook," the thief realized. "What are you doing?"

"I had hoped he would perish during the cave in. I know that must sound dreadful of me, but it is my true sentiment. His soul is so darkened. Thou were trapped with him; doest thou not knoweth it?"

Imoen frowned, shifting her weight and crossing her arms over her chest disapprovingly.

"His people persecute mine. They want our land for our magical resources, and spread lies and rumors about our ways. They are a cruel race, Thayvians," she murmured. "Their culture is harsh, but not in ways that enhance the spirit. Their people paid homage to Bane until his fall; the god of tyranny. They control each other through murder, intimidation, blackmail, and sabotage. The only people whom the Red Wizards hate more than Rashemi Wychlaran are other Red Wizards. And the only reason they have not mounted a more serious invasion of our lands is because they doeth spend too much of their energy killing each other."

"I've read about other lands outside the Sword Coast," Imoen responded slowly. "But whatever Red Wizards are like in general, he in specific is part of our team!"

"Do not think him misunderstood," Dynaheir told her. "He and his have dissected nature spirits to harvest their secrets; and men to earn their fear. They exploit everything; as he will exploit us. I had hoped he would die in that cave-in, but thou must understand me, Imoen! I would not bring harm to one who has not struck at me first. Thy sister has the right of it." Dynaheir took in a long breath, squaring her shoulders. "Yet a wizard's vulnerability is his or her spellbook, and this act will protect us all. Without this book, the Thayvian will be castrated. He will have to leave. There will be no fight, and he can return to his homeland unharmed."

"Unharmed? He's a wizard. You'd be kinder to burn his arm off!" Imoen huffed. "He'll know you did it, Dynaheir. You're the only suspect and he knows he didn't lose it in the cave-in."

"Perhaps, but has hated me since before he even met me. For my blood. For my skin. For lies whose origins are too old to trace any longer. I am no stranger to his hate."

Imoen frowned, thinking about these things. She looked at the red book and then back up at the enigmatic woman's face. "Dynaheir, it's not that I don't believe you, or trust you. I know how nasty he is and how ruthless he can be. It's just I still don't think you should do it. Just like Jaheira shouldn't do anything similar to Xzar. If you're so much better than him, don't set to stabbing him the very first time he's vulnerable."

"Thy warmth and youth are both endearing. I realize with this action that I may lose thine respect, Imoen... And I am sorry. But this may be the only chance I have to end this without bloodshed. "

Imoen stared into her eyes while shaking her head and then lowering her hands to her sides. "Do it, then. If that's your decision. But I say it's cruel, and I won't be part of it."

Dynaheir looked down at the book. She stretched it out further over the flame, and released it directly into the heart of the blaze. Imoen scowled and looked bitterly away. Dynaheir closed her eyes and murmured a lengthy prayer to The Three, carefully requesting guidance from each deity in turn. The fire crackled and blazed. When she was done, the Wychlaran looked sadly back at her. "It is done. I am sorry to have lost thine confidence, Imoen."

"Yeah. Well." Imoen didn't look up at her. "I don't think you know half of what he's capable of."

"Thou may be right; but now we need never find out. Rest well when thou hast the opportunity, child of Candlekeep. Thou deserveth it." Dynaheir bowed politely and then turned and headed back to her palette.

The moment her back was turned, Imoen casually picked up a kobold bow and dug it into the fire. She found the edge of the book amid the flames and nudged it gently, pulling it out into the ashes. She leaned over gingerly to pick it up but, as she expected, it was quite cool. She hid it behind her back and tucked it into her belt. "Don't you get at all how his head works?" Imoen called to Dynaheir as she stood, "He's not going to leave you alone because you struck first. He's going to take it as a valid casus belli. And you're really underestimating what he'll be able to do."

"I hope for all our sakes, his included, that thou art wrong. Imoen... I wanted to mention something else, though it may seem inappropriate of me to give you such advice at this time. Be careful with the halfling, Imoen. I do not believe he understands true loyalty, and I fear that in caring for him you will find yourself badly wounded."

"Dynaheir... Just... stop talking to me, please," the thief muttered.

"...Whatever thy wish, Imoen. Goodnight."

When Dynaheir was asleep, Imoen crept over to where the Red Wizard lay and knelt down beside the injured man. A truce is a truce, she thought. It was wrong to hit a man under the mantle of peace, even one of dubious intentions. She reached gingerly around the wizard to ease aside the cloaks and slip his spellbook carefully back into place.

Long nails brushed against her fingertips, taking firm hold of the book. Imoen tensed at the realization that Edwin was awake; that he likely had been awake for quite some time. She held very still for a moment, but the Red Wizard did not move or speak or even open his eyes. His breathing was irregular, however. He was awake, and he had to be in a lot of pain.

"Don't do anything stupid," she growled down at him, pulling the edge of one cloak gently over his shoulder. "I just wanted to see all she'd do." When he gave no response she twisted about and sat down beside his shoulder with a sigh. She rubbed the bridge of her nose and then detached a flask of water from her side, placing it within his reach. "Let me know if you want a drop of nightshade," she muttered. "Else tonight's gonna be rough."

Chapter Text

Gentle fingers in her hair roused her. She lifted her head after a few moments, blinking back on five hours of sleep, her eyes dry, tired, and blurry. When she saw the halfling kneeling beside her, however, she immediately snapped to her senses and looked around. She'd picked a spot to sleep between Edwin and Dynaheir. Hopefully the nightshade was still in effect and the injured wizard had been able to stay unconscious through the evening. She hadn't risked giving him much.

Khalid and Jaheira were both awake, though the latter was in a state of deep meditation. The former was taking a 'fourth watch' while the exhausted party slept on past their normal eight-hour rest period.

Imoen looked back up at Montaron, a sly grin overtaking her face. He was pulling a blanket off of her that must have originally been his anyway, and he folded it over his arm with an equally mischievous expression. "Go first. I'll take a sec. Don't want suspicious elves, now."

She nodded, taking the blanket from him and making sure that her disappearance into the back cavern was as clandestine as possible.

The purple-clad girl was pacing rapidly back and forward, muttering to herself. Montaron leaned against the cave wall with his arms crossed over his chest, eyeing her uncertainly despite himself. He wondered if she was still shaken up from the day before, or if these were jitters of another kind. Maybe she was just thinking too much?

"Pink," he called to get her attention.

Imoen jumped, looking at him a little frazzled.

"Ye okay?" he asked slowly. A part of him wondered why he was being so cautious in approaching a girl who had bold-face petitioned him for a good time. Then he told himself it was because there were two bad-tempered Harpers and a She-Ogre in the next room. If Imoen's heart wasn't really in this game, then it was a whole lot safer for him if she backed out now as opposed to regretted it later.

Course that didn't explain the concerned amusement plastered all over his face when he asked.

"I-I've-" Imoen stammered. She wrung her hands together. "I've just... I've never done this before," she admitted.

"Aye, I can tell," he muttered, stepping down to her level of the cavern.

"I mean, I haven't," she said, walking to the side and looking away as she tried to think. "But then I think Aegis hadn't—at least she would have told me if she had—I mean there were books, plenty of books, and some even with sketches... and then Dynaheir talked to me last night and- I-I- I'm sorry. I shouldn't be all wound up talking about other things when I'm- Um."

The halfling lifted a brow. "Ye... don't have to do this, ye know," he reminded her, staying in place for a moment and regarding the younger thief almost curiously. He supposed if any other woman had baited him this far and then backed out, he would have been more than a little angry. In her case he had a feeling he really could manage to let it go, even if he still had to keep sharing a tavern room with the kid afterward. He wasn't as young as he used to be, and that certainly helped things.

But Imoen whirled towards him almost immediately with a surprised look on his face. "No!" she protested, and then blushed and clasped her hands behind herself almost bashfully, looking at her feet and rocking on her heels. "No, I mean..." She lifted her head and fixed him with a slightly sultry expression. "I mean I want to."

Montaron watched her for a long moment, taking in the sight of her pleasant curves and her pouting lower lip... Watching her shake like a leaf. He shook his head and uncrossed his arms, stepping up to her and reaching out to touch her forearms and pull her hands to him. She let him, dropping her 'seductive' act and watching him curiously. She still had her archery gloves on, and he pulled them off one finger at a time. "How old are ye, Pink?" he asked her.

"Nineteen," Imoen answered truthfully, earning a thoughtful glance from the halfling. "What?"

Not too young then, he thought. Actually a little old to have still been a ward of anyone. He'd been worried she might reveal a number several counts smaller; sometimes it was hard to tell with human women. "And ye never managed to seduce th' stable boy?" he asked her.

Imoen pouted. "How old are you?" she asked curiously. Montaron was definitely older than her, but his hair was still completely black.

"Sixty-three," the halfling told her. He glanced up to see her eyebrows peak as she did some internal mental arithmetic, no doubt translating from the longer halfling lifespan into the shorter human one.

"Like... Forty-two?" she thought to herself. She was silent for a beat as she considered that number. It was a little high, but after all it was only a number. "You're not even starting to gray. I really hope I'm half as attractive at sixty-three," she decided.

Montaron smirked, unpinning her cloak and then tossing both it and her gloves off to the side. Then he took her hands firmly in his, and felt her shivering ease. He tugged her gently. "Ye should probably sit down ta start."

Imoen blinked and then bit her lip in an attempt to restrain a grin.

"What?" he demanded.

She shook her head rapidly, following him over to the blanket and then kneeling.

"Pink. What?" He demanded to know why she was on the verge of giggling.

"Um," she sucked in a breath to not laugh. "Um- nothing- noth... it... it does work, right?"

"What?" At first he wondered if she was making a dig at his age or ability to perform. Then he realized she'd started giggling when he'd asked her to kneel. He planted his hands on his hips and leaned forward a bit to scowl down at her. "Halflings and tall folk?" he asked acridly, unamused.

Imoen hugged her knees to herself, grinning at him innocently.

"Course it does, ye daft pink goose. Ye'd think I'd be standing here right now talking to ye if it didn't?"

"Then you've done it before?" she asked, dropping her knees into a butterfly and leaning forward with a curious expression.

He eyed her, annoyed. "What do ye think is most widely available when travelin' out in the world?" He asked her. "Ugly buxom tavern wenches just like yerself? Tend to be human, now don't they?"

She grinned wide enough to show off all her neat white teeth. "Be nice, little man," she taunted. "Or for the rest of my life I'll be getting a wizard to toss you sendings, informing you how exactly every last remaining partner I ever have measures up to your tiny pecker."

His eyes widened and he gave her a predatory grin, stepping forward to grab her face and neck in a gesture half sensual and half threatening. "Get yer clothes off, girl, afore I forget to be nice with ye," he told her.

"Get your clothes off, boy, 'afore' I forget I can dangle you upside down off the ground by the ankle and strip you nude one-handed," she sniped back with an equally evil smile.

"Ye?" he laughed, now thoroughly engaged. "Ye ain't strong enough. Yer sister, maybe..."

She dared to kiss him, and he tilted his head a bit to return it, slipping his fingers around the back of her neck and stepping closer when she raised her own arms to complement the embrace. One hand sifted up into his hair. Then he stiffened in brief disbelief when her other hand boldly groped his ass.

"Oi," he muttered, intrigued. "Church girl? Really?"

"I have a very good imagination," she promised him. "And incredibly high expectations!"

"Hard work? Way to kill a hard-on," he muttered excitedly, nipping her chin and slipping fingers easily up into the hem of her tunic to trace her ribs. "But methinks yer teasin,'" he promised with a hiss into her chestnut hair, "and two can play that game."

"You better remember what it's like to be thirty," she whispered back mischievously. "And be half as good as you think of yourself, little man!"

He growled and shoved her backwards to the ground with a satisfied grin. Despite the height difference, Montaron was stronger than her, and he took advantage of this to sit himself down on her hips as he set to unstrapping her leathers. "Ye need to invest in some brigandine," he muttered to himself. "Ain't a matter o' size, girl. Matter o' skill. And patience."

"Oh," she laughed as he began pulling off the hauberk. "And I'm to believe you a master of these skills?"

He stopped tugging when the hauberk was halfway over her head and her arms were trapped in the squeeze of it, and then he twisted it to the side to prevent escape and deftly pulled up the front of her tunic. She jumped in surprise as he cupped her.

"Montaron!" she exclaimed, both at the touch and the trick.

"Hsst! Na so loud," he whispered jovially, rubbing a calloused thumb gently over her and delighting in how she squirmed at the subtle tingles. "Lest the druid hear and think the worst o' me."

"You are the worst," she complained to him, twisting slightly out of the hauberk's grip and glaring up at him.

"Ah! There ye are. Worried ye'd up and ditched me," he growled, twisting his grasp on the armor further to keep her arms entangled a moment longer. She tried to say something, but he leaned low over top of her and pushed his face into the crook of her neck. The tickling sensation as he kissed her sent pleasurable ripples down to her toes. She squirmed, writhed one arm free, and quickly grabbed at his shoulder.

Except she held him closer instead of pushing him away. The halfling chuckled into her skin, pushing the hauberk off over to the side and then sliding his hands around her to pull the tunic off. Abruptly she pushed him up and off of her, and then scooted back to sit up a little. "Don't do that again!" she chastised him. He lifted a brow and then laughed when she sat fully up and reached forward to grab at the straps of his own armor. "I'm serious, I don't like being stuck."

"A'ight. Not so tense," he told her, pulling down the collar of her tunic just a little to bare her shoulder. He dropped a kiss there and then turned another into her neck. She quivered and squirmed but did not halt her aggression, dropping his cloak to the ground behind him. The halfling smiled and reached over her shoulder grasping at the fabric of the tunic and spidering his hand in place to slowly gather up the fabric. This time she let him step back to his feet and pull the garment off of her. He didn't pull any tricks.

Montaron took a moment to appreciate her; to take in the sight of her. Imoen blinked and then crossed her arms over her chest. "Not fair," she told him. He grinned and obliged her by dressing down to match.

When he'd gotten the hauberk off and the tunic, he twisted to toss the clothing behind him. As he did so he felt her touch inquisitively run against his skin. Looking back he found she was tracing old scars. "Where did all of these come from?" she asked him.

"Sharp things," he answered wryly. "Suppose we're both lucky they're scars instead of wounds, as yer already frowning like ye've seen a terrible tragedy. They don't hurt no longer, ye know that, right?" he teased. "Just leave me a little less pretty, is all."

She looked back up at his face with a blush and a evil, evil little grin. "You're covered in them! Still have both tiny balls, I hope? Must have been hard to hit."

He growled, reaching down and brazenly unbelting his trousers for her. He shoved them to the ground and stepped out of the puddle of cloth, planting his hands on his hips and glaring at her stonily.

"There. That what ye wanted ta see? Satisfied? Or d'ya want ta take another week ta make up yer mind?" he growled, irritated by her nervous quips.

The archer stared at him; ate up the sight of him, a hot red blush creeping up in her cheeks. His irate expression twisted one of amusement almost immediately. "Ye really are that green?" he asked incredulously. "And here ye wanted to come across so perverted. Wasn't a young monk or stable hand or anything at all for ye ta play with back home? Or hell, at least spy on?"

Imoen glanced away, but then immediately looked back, her eyes following the downward trend of muscles past a distinctly masculine tuft of black. "Wasn't my interest yet," she told him in a quiet voice. "That's- You're handsome with your clothing off. I can't believe I just said that, I meant t-to say-"

"By all means stare all ye wish. I'll just be standing here, then." He mock-inspected his nails, surprising himself with his nonchalance. "There's a nice draft; No rush."

She scrambled towards him at that, hugging him quickly about the waist and squeezing her breasts up against his stomach as she lifted her head to kiss him. The heat of her skin sent a rush of sensation through him, and he hugged her quickly around the back and leaned over a bit to make the kiss work. She pushed some of his hair back from his face, and her fingers trailed over the tip of his ear. He'd never been ogled quite like that. It made him feel young.

"Yer a rude, sassy little flirt," he growled tenderly when their mouths parted ways.

"I'm nervous," she mumbled plaintively.

"Nn? Don't be. Ask around at knowledgeable ladies. Baseline halfling's usually a better lover n' a human man anyway."

"Oh really?" she asked, amused at this assertion.

"Aye." He was serious. She tilted her head to the side.

"And why's that?"

He shrugged, taking a knee to put himself down at her level. "Better appreciation for the simple things in life? Bossier women? Big families with lots of gossiping sisters?" His fingers slipped gently down the front of her, and then tucked down under the hem of her leggings. "More comfortable sizing?" He drawled with lingering annoyance. She quivered wordlessly and he kissed her chin. "Easy now. Ain't let a tavern wench down yet, and don't plan on startin' now. There ye go... Let me show ye a feelin' or two first, so ye know what yer measurin' us men up against."

Edwin winced, shakily reaching out to feel his mended limb. It was still uncomfortable to bend, as if it had fallen asleep on him. The foot tingled slightly.

"It will take some time to shed the discomfort," Jaheira told him. "I suggest seeking help of some form in walking until then. Perhaps-"

"I shall walk under my own power," the Thayan muttered, annoyed with her and with his own weakness.

"As you wish," Jaheira muttered, standing up and looking around. "Though a man who was recently pulled out of a cave-in should perhaps be more grateful for a few days than he is ambitious." Edwin sneered up at her. "Take up a spear then. Use it as a walking stick."

Branwen was tending to Garrick's face, and it was taking everything in the bard's power just to looking lovingly into her eyes and hold back on saying something poetic. No doubt frilly words would have only insulted her. Minsc was snoring thunderously. Dynaheir was studying.

Aegis was still sleepily rubbing her eyes. Her arms ached; the muscles in her back and neck were stiff; and she was covered in bruises and welts from where she'd ignored her own bodily discomfort. She heard a happy evil humming beside her, and turned just in time to see Xzar come up to join her. He sat on her left and placed down two white china teacups on unblemished little dishes. Then he daintily lifted up an equally adorable teapot and began pouring the cups full of tea.

"You have a tea set," Aegis croaked flatly. "Xzar, where on Faerun did you get a tea set?" And how had she failed to notice it while looking for a change of clothing for him the day before? Tea was not as popular on the Sword Coast as elsewhere in the Realms; but herbal tea had been Gorion's thing and Aegis... Aegis had acquired a taste for it.

"I bought it at the carnival," The necromancer told her happily. "It is enchanted, so it will not chip on a rough journey!"

Aegis stared at him dumbly for a moment. He didn't have boots in that pack of his, but he had a tea set. Xzar finished pouring the tea and then settled the pot down on a little green cozy and offered her one of the cups. Aegis took it. "You made me chamomile tea," she realized.

"Yes. With peppermint and Echinacea!"

"There is a significant possibility that I may accidentally fall in love with you."

Xzar blinked at her uncomprehendingly. Then he smiled and shrugged. "Only one thing's more certain than taxes," he said, and his voice dropped into a childish whine. "Eeegee, tell me a story about grandmothers and wolves!" He was not even touching his own cup of tea. Given his profession, most people might have found that slightly ominous; but Aegis wagered he'd just forgotten about it.

"Still in love," she said happily into her cup, because nothing could diminish her satisfaction for the moment.

"Where is Imoen?" Jaheira asked abruptly. Aegis perked up and looked around.

"Imm?" the ranger asked worriedly.

Edwin sneered when a quick survey showed that Montaron was also missing. He sat up momentarily to pull out his spellbook and then leaned back and tried to make himself comfortable against the wall. Dynaheir caught sight of him and her eyes widened. He pretended not to notice; as if nothing had happened. As irritated as he might have been at the moment, he had a plan to carry out, and it was better Dynaheir be left to wonder exactly whom had retrieved the book from the fire.

"Khalid, did she leave this morning?" Jaheira asked, and then looked down at Edwin's unpleasant interruption of mocking laughter. "What do you know, then?"

"She's most likely in the back cavern with the halfling," Edwin answered bitterly. "Celebrating the end of her make-believe virginity."

"Your words are so often unnecessarily poisonous," Jaheira sighed.

"Oh, I wasn't joking," Edwin muttered. "But go ahead and have a look for yourself if you want."

The druid went still, her brows furrowing as she considered the indolent Red Wizard. Then she turned her gaze to the back cavern's entryway and strained her ears. A revolted look spread over her face. "Oh," Jaheira realized.

Aegis was quiet for a moment on seeing and hearing all this. Then she sipped her tea.

"Oooh, that silly rabbit," her necromancer cooed. "Are you going to kill him, mummy?"

"It depends," she decided after another sip. "How much peppermint did you use?"

He cursed and gnawed on his thumb knuckle, glaring at the floor. "I knew I should have only used one leaf!" he shouted, his voice returning to normal. "I should have liked to pin the blame on someone else! Who better than Death to blame!?"

"Drink your tea, Xzar, before it gets cold," Aegis responded quietly.

"... Yes. Yes, alright. Very well. If I must." And he did so.

Imoen listened to the sounds of the party moving around, now that her own heavy breathing had stilled. "I..." she mumbled dazed, pushing disastrously tangled hair out of her face. "I think we... took too long..."

Inversely aligned and on top of her, with his cheek resting on her thigh and one arm flung out over her legs, her halfling couldn't repress a good, long, hard laugh. He was exhausted.

The archer smiled lazily to herself at the sound of him, running her fingertips up and down along the small of his back and then lifting them to trace along his tailbone and leg to the back of his knee. Abruptly she hugged his legs to her shoulder and chest, and nuzzled into his skin.

"Worth it," she heard him mutter contently. "Let 'em rot."

"Gulp."

"What ye on about? Oh."

How had she done that? The duo had finally decided to return. They'd put on their clothes, cleaned a little, gathered up their armor, and resolved themselves to come hear what the party had to say. They had no doubt their absence had been noticed, but they needed to learn if there were any important tasks they now needed to perform or if they could maybe go back to sleep for a few more hours.

And somehow, Aegis had been waiting for them right at the corner leading into the main chamber. Had she been sitting there the whole time just to ambush them? Whatever the case, she was now standing tall with her fists clenched and glaring daggers down at both of them.

Montaron looked at Imoen and absently patted down her hair. It was incredibly messy. He needed another nap. "I got nothin'. Ya got an explanation for her? She's yer sister, not mine."

Aegis continued to glare at both of them, shifting her weight on to one hip and crossing her arms unhappily over her chest. She waited for an explanation.

Imoen thought about the prompt for a moment and then smiled sleepily upon the triumphant realization that she had a good one.

"We came in pairs," she told her sister.

Aegis closed her eyes and sighed, lifting a hand up to cover her face. There was no way she could possibly hold an angry stance against any choice of Imoen's when her own bedmate was so incredibly insane. Being a big sister was hard.

"Wait... that sounded lewd..." Imoen muttered sleepily.

"Go lie down. Both of you. Non-euphemistically, this time," Aegis sighed.

The thieves slipped groggily past under more than a few stares. Minsc, Brawnen, and Edwin were the only three who didn't; Minsc because he was oblivious, Branwen because she didn't see the problem, and Edwin likely because he was utterly indifferent to their existence.

"I've still a chunk of ham in my pack somewhere." Imoen whispered sleepily to her companion. "You can have it if I can use your butt as a pillow." 

"Most beautiful words a woman's ever spoke at me."

Chapter Text

Evening found both thieves well-rested and up again, sneaking through the caverns of the Nashkel mines. They needed to make sure the kobolds hadn't set up any new traps, and to get a bead on what direction they should head next. A breeze here and there confirmed both Montaron and Jaheira's feelings that they were not actually that far underground, but instead that the mines and caves had wound out horizontally in one direction or another. It was possible that they might even stumble upon an exit way.

The duo didn't say much or behave too differently from before, though near the start of their journey the halfling had taken it upon himself to give her rump a nice grope. It was business time and the two thieves were on duty.

They had just been about to head back to the group when they heard the light bubbling of running water and decided to check into one last cave. And inside was-

"Is that a cave within a cave?" Imoen whispered incredulously. They were looking at a very large pool of water; a lake underground. A little spring bubbling water up into the chamber was the noise they'd heard earlier. This was not particularly unusual. What was strange was the giant rock formation which took up the majority of the lake, with another large opening leading straight into its heart. Kobolds milled around in previously unseen numbers, with many commandos close to the cave entryway. Luminescent cave lichin was brighter here than elsewhere in the cave behind them, and there were lit torches aplenty.

"We should get back to th' others," Montaron reasoned.

"Without knowing what's inside? No way!" Imoen giggled. "What if it's a big bad problem and we all get leveled while fighting through these kobolds? No sir, we need to get inside!"

"Hey, what are ye- Pink!" he exclaimed and failed to grab for her in time as she slithered out into the big open space. "Imoen! Get- by Cyric and Mask... Yer gonna get us both killed!" She didn't return to safety. He remained there for a moment, staring after her, side-eyeing the milling kobolds... "Yondolla's dumpling aft, ya've cursed me," he snarled, and went after her.

Jaheira had to admit that Edwin's insistance on doing 'everything' on his own did have some amusing attributes. She watched with her arms crossed over her chest as the wizard limped heavily around the perimeter of the cave. He'd refused all help, including Aegis offering him a shoulder to lean on and Jaheira offering him her staff. Of course he lacked the strength to put more than a handful of pounds of weight down on the leg, which left him unable to cross the camp site's center.

There was a bit of use to his struggles; he'd managed to regain usage of the leg faster than Jaheira had expected, and he could now at least walk on it (flounder on it) instead of merely hopping about one-legged.

When he slipped at one point and dropped to his knee with a snarl, Branwen cackled in her harsh Northeim accent and said, almost approvingly, "Lots of fighting spirit; no sense."

"I would appreciate if the peanut gallery could keep its comments to itself," Edwin growled, exhausted from the exercise. "(Miserable brutish excuse for a woman! I fail to see how you islanders manage to copulate if all the fairer sex resembles yourself!) I do not need your help, and I definitely do not need your snickering. (A fiendish horse, though... that could be nice...)"

There was a short passageway down into the rock formation, which terminated in three branches.

The first was filled with the normal fare of kobolds; if slightly better armed and armored than their brethren. They were seated at messy tables covered in dirty food bowls and moldy playing cards, and snickering to each-other in a language Imoen couldn't really understand. It sounded familiar.

The second branch was closed up with irregular metal bars and had a crudely erected door. It looked like some kind of prison, and the cavern beyond was dark and unlit. The door hung open ominously, and there was nothing but dripping water within.

The third branch was blocked off with a garish purple curtain and-

Imoen pushed Montaron rapidly behind a stone outcropping as kobolds burst forward from the curtain, dragging a very unwilling person between them. This was a prisoner, the two thieves realized: a moon elf dressed in torn and frayed robes, with his hands bound up with rope in front of him. He had an extraordinarily despondent look on his face, and was staring at the ground ahead of him blankly as if he could see straight through it.

Briefly through the curtain, the two thieves could see a garishly adorned living space with plush rugs thrown down to hide the naked floor, and perhaps pillows. Then the curtain was shut. The kobolds marched their charge up to the open prison entrance and unceremoniously stuffed him inside. With giggles and cackles to another, they drew out a heavy bronze key and locked the dreadfully squeaky door shut.

The elf didn't react so much as to even turn around and face his tormentors. He stood there quietly as one poked a weapon through the bars at him. Then, apparently bored by his lack of reaction, they turned and scuttled back to join their companions in the mess hall. In their absense, the elf quietly sunk to his knees and leaned back helplessly against the barred grating. His only source of light was a dim torch a few feet in advance of where the thieves were hiding.

Imoen waited until it was clear no one else would emerge from the curtained room, and that the kobolds would stay quite happily where they belonged. Then she slipped out from behind their outcropping and directly up to the prison gate.

Montaron's priorities were slightly different: He tiptoed up to the curtain so he might have a look inside at their adversary. A warning tingle of intuition told him the room might be trapped or warded, and he obeyed the primitive instinct not to go within.

"Hey," Imoen whispered as she reached the elf. He didn't budge. "Hey," she said a little louder, reaching between the bars to grab his shoulder.

At last he responded, jumping slightly at the contact and twisting about to look at her. His eyes were cyan, brightly visible against silvered skin now dull with malnutrition and lack of sunlight. His brown hair was limp about his face, and he was absolutely filthy with dirt and the gods only knew what else. He looked stunned for a moment. Then he wormed about to his knees so he could look at her more clearly

"Who are you?" he asked, and his voice was low and weak instead of elated.

"Name's Imoen. We're scouting ahead for a party investigating the iron crisis. Who are you?"

His shoulders slumped a bit at the astute realization he was still surrounded with kobolds and would not be getting rescued. "I was tasked with a similar endeavor," he explained in a melancholy voice. "Of course, I failed. It's unlikely you will be more fortunate."

"You made it pretty damn far. What should we know?"

The elf was quiet a moment. Maybe he was gathering his wits... or contemplating withholding the information in exchange for aid? Then he lowered his eyes, seeing little point. "The leader here is called Mulahey. He is a half orc priest... most likely of Cyric. He rants often over several names. He is working for someone bigger than he, and they are not happy."

"What did he want from you?" she asked.

Cyan eyes lifted momentarily and then dropped again. The elf said nothing.

Imoen decided not to pry; she had an inkling it was one of the reasons the elf smelled like anything other than daisies and moonlight. "You're wearing wizarding robes. Are you a mage?"

The elf was quiet for a moment. "An enchanter," he answered.

"Where's your spellbook?"

"Oh... locked away, vastly beyond my reach," he muttered.

Imoen glanced back at Montaron, who was keeping watch both on the curtained room and on the kobolds. She could barely see him again the rock. Waving a hand to get his attention, she pointed into Mulahey's chamber and made an inquisitive gesture. Could they get in there and steal something? The halfling shook his head and jerked his thumb at the exit.

"It looks like your companion is ready to leave," the enchanter said, and she was impressed by his eyesight. Then again, didn't elves have infravision or darkvision or something?

"If I brought you a spellbook or scroll," Imoen asked, turning back towards the wizard, "could you cast from it?"

"Dehydrated, sick, and five-and-eighty days too far removed from the sky?" He shifted and shrugged slightly. "I could try, though I cannot promise success."

"We have to go. Will you... will you be alright till we can return?"

"If you return?" he considered morosely. "Then what's one more day? Six-and-eighty instead of five-and-eighty, only."

"You're late!" Aegis exclaimed as Imoen reentered the cavern with Montaron in tow. She'd been stuck doing little more than bothering kobolds around the camp area all day, and was antsy for some real progress again. "We were starting to get worried."

"We've found the problem," Montaron explained as Imoen pat her sister on the shoulder and hopped across the camp to talk to someone else. "There's a man named Mulahey, a Cyrite cleric," the halfling told her. "From what we heard he's workin' for someone else. He's got a nice little lair down there, including a moat with kobolds all around. Speakin' o' which, could ye please give that pink idiot a smack upside the head for me? We nearly died so many ways..."

"I'll consider it," Aegis told him very seriously, apparently forgiving the duo's other exploits together.

"It's bad down there," Montaron added. "The kobolds will have have clear shots over empty water at us, and we gotta get clear to the other side of the lake to reach the bridge. Whole time we're walking there, we'll be sitting ducks, and then he's got armed reinforcements inside. Not to mention the man himself has put up some form of protection on the place. He's no lightweight."

Imoen had gone to find Edwin. He was resting and turning irritably through the pages his spellbook. "I need you to scribe a spell," she told him.

"Not interested. Three wizards. Ask another." He hand-waved the rest of his insult, too tired to deal with her.

"Ooh! Ooh! Me!" Xzar cooed, throwing his disturbing spell components in the air behind him from where he'd been playing with them. "Pick me! Which spell? Will it help hurt the rabbits!?"

"It's an illusion," Imoen told the necromancer as gently as she could, and watched as Xzar deflated.

"But surely you can reconsider the needed spell! What about something with rats?" the necromancer mumbled unhappily. Illusion was the opposing school to necromancy; Xzar would have sacrificed any and all training within that sphere in order to strengthen his own craft. Edwin didn't look up, but shelved this mentally as one more thing Imoen knew about magic that that she oughtn't; things that made her a useful and dangerous pawn.

"It's an illusion spell I need," Imoen repeated, now talking in a much quieter voice so the conversation was private and turning back to Edwin. "And it has to be the best."

That got his attention. The conjurer looked back up at her for a moment. Then he snapped his spellbook shut and leaned forward over his knees, a faux and predatory smile working its way over his face. He's just a big dragon, she thought. And he's not wise enough to know it. "Oh, does it? Well then, good. Because after we are out of this stinking hole, I would like some favors from you."

Imoen blinked, surprised, because Edwin was typically opposed to her helping him. Wasn't he? She considered the possibility that Edwin was only unwilling to take favors that he hadn't extorted. "Wait, what? What favors?" she asked.

"Never you mind that, girl, we'll talk later. Consider this a show of my, eh, good will. " He leered.

Imoen shifted uneasily from foot to foot, suddenly uncomfortably reminded that she was talking to a man who she'd watched conjure a Devil. "Um," she thought, wondering if it were possible to accidentally sell one's soul to a wizard.

A thought occurred to her and she glanced over at where Dynaheir was talking innocently with Khalid and Garrick. She sensed no defensiveness from the woman; no tension in the room. Had Edwin done something? No? Had he really let the Wychlaran's decision to try and destroy his spellbook slide so easily? Imoen narrowed her eyes back at Edwin. He was up to something.

"If it's a show of good will, then it's free. I'm not agreeing to nothing," she said.

"Despite the dangerously incorrect grammar of that reply? Very well." He leaned his elbows on his knees, touching his fingertips together and tapping the nails against each other thoughtfully, still grinning at her like a spider. "Tell me what you want then, girl, before I change my mind."

Imoen sighed. "An invisibility spell."

He narrowed his eyes slightly, considering her. Invisibility was not a safe spell to be tossing around. It tended to result in assassination attempts and espionage. He glanced slyly at Dynaheir, but then turned a perplexed look back up at the purple harlot. Imoen had just come in from scouting. She hadn't spoken to Dynaheir since the night before, to his knowledge, and then the two women hadn't parted on the best of terms.

"You must tell me; Why a scroll?" he asked. "Why not just request me to cast it on whomever you need?"

"There's a prisoner," Imoen explained. "I need him to cast it on himself so we can get him out safely."

Edwin looked annoyed at her answer. "Ah, of course. Always so noble, aren't we?" he said, as if bored with her. "And why should I care about this prisoner?"

"He likely knows what spells the cleric prepares daily and what times will be best to attack. If Aegis'll let me go get him out now, he might be tactically advantageous. And if not, then I can still get him to safety before we confront Mulahey, and maybe he'll have overheard some useful information."

"That's quite a lot of 'ifs' and 'maybes'. This does not sound like a particularly sound or interesting investment of my time."

"Well, if I were noble, I wouldn't be asking the only injured wizard in my party to do extra work to help me get this prisoner out. I would be staging a totally badass rescue attempt in which, after freeing the prisoner, I took down as many kobolds as I had arrows in my quiver and then sacrificed myself by throwing my body out to block oncoming arrows as he escaped unharmed. They'd sing songs about me, you know. Me and my nobleness."

The corner of his mouth twitched, though whether in overwhelming irritation or mild amusement, Imoen couldn't be sure. She shifted uneasily from foot to foot when he said nothing.

"If you're so smart, and you want favors, then figure out why I'm asking you for one."

"Because Dynaheir mustn't have access to an invisibility spell," the Thayan retorted. "Yes, as if that weren't painfully obvious to me the moment you came up huffing and demanded my assistance. Here is a tip, little tart: You need to secure payment before giving up useful information, not after, or the buyer owes you nothing." He sat back to open up his book again without a word.

"So..." she hesitated. "Will you do it anyway?"

"Yes, yes," he muttered irritably. "Your voice is one of the most annoying sounds the creators gifted to the prime material. I will scribe it just to ensure you leave me be. And use it for its intended purpose or I will be cross with you."

She beamed.

"Hoi!" Montaron had overheard her and he took a couple steps in direction. "I know what yer thinking, Pink. We're not going back down there!"

"What's up?" Aegis queried.

"There's a prisoner down there," Imoen explained. "He's being held in Mulahey's lair, and I want to get him out tonight!"

"Yer daft, Pink," Montaron growled. "Yer not getting across that bridge without being seen a second time. Not t'night, that's for sure!"

"A prisoner?" Aegis asked. "Is he in any immediate danger?"

Imoen fidgeted. "Well, no, but-"

"Imm, we'll work our way down there tomorrow," Aegis offered. "There's no reason for them to kill a random prisoner while they're under attack, is there? We'll get him out when we've taken down this Mulahey."

"Well, but he's like us!" Imoen told her. "He was investigating the mines." She saw Aegis didn't look moved. "He's also a wizard."

The ranger played along, staggering and clutching at her chest. "Oi. My one weakness. Okay, I'll give you that, another wizard could be useful. But Imm-"

"He's a moon elf, and he says he's been down there almost three months now! You didn't see him, Aegis. He's so helpless. The kobolds could just fire an arrow into his cave when we show up, and then he's doomed!"

"Three months? Of what use could such a prisoner be?" Jaheira muttered. "He would have been killed, extradited, or ransomed by now if he was valuable. Your prisoner exaggerated. We should wait until the morrow."

"Er, well," Imoen turned a funny shade of magenta. "No, I'm pretty sure he was telling me the truth Ya see, I think the cleric is... Um... well, the cleric is a half orc... and I think he is... Er, That is... I think there aren't any... alternative... female prisoners to choose from."

Aegis blinked uncomprehendingly. Xzar broke out laughing. Montaron made a face, but he'd seen more or less the same thing Imoen had, and believed it. Minsc scratched his head and looked inquisitively to Boo. Jaheira sighed. "Your subtleties are lost on an unsullied mind, Imoen," the druid told her. "Speak frankly.

Edwin sighed. "(How can I be surrounded by such simpletons?) The bad cleric is raping the elf wizard," he translated into baby-terms so that the rest of the party could understand. "(Disgusting habit. I can almost feel pity for your new wizard, girl. Almost.)"

Aegis blinked quietly at Imoen for a moment. Then she took in a long, slow breath and nodded. "Okay. Okay, tell us what you need, Imm."

"Ye can't be serious!" Montaron growled, disbelieving. "We have no healing and we'll be sandwiched between a hundred kobolds in a deathtrap if things go wrong."

"You're the one sleeping with her. How about you convince her this is a bad idea? I'm game to help her do it. You want me to sabotage her? I tell you what. If you can convince Edwin not to scribe the spell for her; she'll have to stay here. Otherwise she'll just sneak off in between blinks while half of our backs are turned."

"It's nice to hear someone admit I'm the only significant variable for success," a certain red wizard muttered.

Imoen grinned down at him. Dragon dragon; peacock dragon!

"Convince him? Am I allowed to use my blade?" Montaron asked with a snarl.

"How about you work this out with your pink harlot yourself, as this is her crusade and not mine," the Red Wizard suggested. "(Before she regrets whatever abomination went on in that cavern more than she surely must already; and before I turn you into a cinder.)"

Montaron huffed, turning his attention back to Imoen but saying nothing. They clearly did not share a perspective on what the 'right' thing to do was in the given situation. He would have admitted to resenting her a little... for being willing to risk all their lives for a stranger.

Aegis rubbed her brow. "I'm trying to think of all our resources. Garrick, Minsc and I can probably follow you down there without incident if we shed our armor. Khalid and Branwen can stay up here with the wizards." She scratched her chin. "And then we've got seven healing potions, and your oils of speed. And a few burning oil potions to boot. Jaheira, is there any way you can get down there with us?"

"Stealth is not my strong suit," the woman answered.

"Just as well then, three wizards and three people who can hold the line." Aegis looked down at Montaron. "Are you going to go back in there with her?"

"Yer askin' and not tellin'?" the halfling growled.

Aegis shook her head. "This one's your call."

"Yeah don't worry, I can make it on my own!" Imoen giggled cheerfully.

Montaron's left eye twitched with annoyance. If Imoen had gone and done puppy-dog eyes at him, or if Aegis had demanded he watch out for her, at least then he woulda known who to be angry with. But if she went out there alone, he didn't stand to lose his life; and he couldn't be angry with anyone over it; because all he stood to lose was... This was some weird, perverse, diabolical, inversed, screwed up, quasi-accidental manipulation here. He closed his eyes and sighed heavily. "Yeah, alright. It's stupid, though," he told them both. "Getting this worked up over nothing what is our business... Rubs me wrong."

Imoen beamed at him like it should be its own reward (and maybe it was). "Thank you, Monty. I've got a plan anyway. If something goes wrong, Aegis, you can lob those burning oils as distractions. It's not like we have to take them all on at once! We just have to get three people across that moat."

"If something does happen and you cannot secure passage back to us," Jaheira added, "you must find shelter and hold the line. Garrick can use his messages to send word to us and inform us on the situation. You need only hold out until we are ready, and we can come to support you."

"Well, when are my spellcasters plus Khalid not saving my ass, really?" Aegis teased. "Let's do this thing. We've got a wizard to rescue. Minsc! You in?"

"Boo has agreed to the sag- ag... what is that word, Boo? Repeat it once. Sagacity! The sagacity of this plan! Onward!"

Edwin rubbed his brow. "Sometimes I wonder."

Minsc and Aegis crouched low, watching the kobolds as Montaron and Imoen fussed around in the dirt. The two of them were holding Imoen's disarmed rockfall trap device and were debating on how to embed it into the ground. The halfling admitted the plan was reasonable, although he and Aegis had their reservations each about the wisdom of tempting Tymora when it came to Imoen and rocks.

Then Garrick leaned against one side of the tunnel with his crossbow, and Minsc and Aegis each waited with a kobold short bow and fire arrows at ready on the other. "Haven't fired a bow since Candlekeep," Aegis muttered. "Alright. You ready?"

Imoen looked to Montaron, who nodded. "If ye fuck up, I'm leavin' ya in there," he told her quietly.

"And then there will be no bacon and cream sandwiches for you when you get back to Nashkel inn," she whispered back.

"Mask damn ye, woman. What part of 'I'm a loner' was unclear when ye dragged me into this mess?"

"What part of what mess? The part where I helped rescue you from a bear, or the part where you groped my boob, or the part where I seduced you with food, or the part where you volunteered to follow me over the bridge again? You can still back out, ya know!"

He growled, slipping an arm about the small of her back.

They listened to Mulahey rant and rave as Imoen carefully performed the pick-pocket. Montaron waited in the hall, watching the curtain carefully with his short sword in hand. If Imoen was caught, he was going to have seconds to properly read the situation. If they simply imprisoned her, he might be able to snatch the key himself and turn right about and free both of them. But if things went badly...

She pulled it off. Imoen crept slowly back to him with the key in hand. She slipped up alongside where the elf was sleeping in the corner of his cage against the bars. As vulnerable as it made him to the jabs and taunts of passing kobolds, it seemed he dared not slink further off into his dismal cavern. Maybe he craved the light too much.

"You're back?" the elf queried as Imoen roused him to consciousness.

"Yuppers! Told ya we would be," She whispered, and then showed him the scroll. "Invisibility," she explained, and he swallowed hard, his eyes widening appreciatively. "Now hold on a sec... The door's loud so I need to oil the hinges." She glanced at Montaron for confirmation the coast was clear and then she carefully eased the key into the lock and turned it. She took some time to carefully prepare the hinges, and then when she was satisfied with her work she grabbed the edge of the door. It slid open with a little bit of sound, but a loud exclamation from Mulahey helped cover the noise.

Imoen reached in and grabbed the wizard's arm, gently ushering him out of the cage. He crawled out to her and offered her his bound arms. She slit the ropes and then pulled him to his feet. He weighed almost nothing.

"I cannot hope this plan of yours will work; but my appreciation for liberty bids me try," the elf murmured. "Show me the scroll again?"

Imoen handed it to him and he took it shakily from her to inspect. His eyes flit over the paper as he took in a long, slow breath to stabilize himself. "Can you do it?" she asked him after a moment.

"We will know shortly," he answered. "Kun, fundol nuz dreh ni haalvut."

Poof. Gone. Imoen grinned broadly and reached into her armor, drawing out two oils of speed and lifting one up. "Take this and drink it. Head over the bridge, around the cave, and get out. You'll see our friends in the shadows there. We'll make our own way out."

"You have taken a great risk," the elf said slowly, taking the potion from her hands. "Coming here twice. You might well have doomed yourselves."

"Just go," she advised.

Montaron gestured for her to rejoin his side. She did so, and the two thieves began the arduous trek out again. Three times they had already walked it. Three times, and they could do it again. He smeared black hair out of his face—he needed to cut it—and watched the purple-clad buttocks slinking out of the cavern before him for a moment. Was it worth this? Nnh. Maybe. Distraction. Risk.

Enough. It was only going to be a short while longer. Then the mines would be cleared, the job would be done, and he'd be on his way home. He could keep the silly goose alive for a few more days, and he'd swallow of the risk of it. As much as he groused, there were other reasons than size that he'd been the first one to crawl down into the cave-in. He'd be a fool not to admit it when it was obviously influencing his decisions: He liked the kid. And not just for her handsomely voluptuous rear end, either.

Chapter Text

When Garrick felt the light touch on his shoulder, he nearly leaped out of his skin. "Wh-?! Oh! Invisible person," he sighed. Aegis looked over and gave an affirmative gesture with her thumb. Only moments later, the wizard's invisibility spell wore off. Frayed and worn, he knelt carefully beside the rocks and peered out into the cavern.

"Is there a second plan should they fail to cross unnoticed?" he asked.

"Be awesome distractions," Aegis answered. "Worthy of boasting about while drinking. We've a trap further back we can run past and- Wow. You really are pretty."

The wizard looked at her with wide eyes, dismayed. "Forgive me for hoping there exists mildly more... wholesome motivations behind my rescue?"

The ranger quirked a brow. "We wouldn't be down here with only half the party, with none of our healers or mages, halfway into a kobold army, with no armor, just to rescue you day before our attack, if we weren't just a teensy weensy little bit wholesome," she promised.

"I am not certain if after that prelude I feel worse or better. Our odds do not seem particularly high of escaping."

Minsc tapped Aegis' shoulder, and she looked up to see an expression of intense mental concentration furrowing the berserker's brow. "Aegis," he asked her slowly. "Is this new person... a man or woman- Boo is not sure!"

The wizard deflated a little but Aegis laughed it off. "You look like you could use a few bottles of feywine when you finally get back to Nashkel. Take it easy." She looked back at Minsc. "Man," she answered. "Definitely, a man." She looked at the newcomer. Minsc communed with Boo over this newly discovered information. "Don't worry, enchanter; we'll get you back to camp alive."

"Forgive me only mild relief," the wizard answered, looking curiously down as a raccoon came up to sniff his foot. "For your reference; I have no spells prepared."

"Alright. That's Urso, by the way. He's mine."

"Aegis!" Garrick hissed, and then there was a commotion out in the cavern ahead.

Dynaheir did not confront Edwin; and Edwin did not confront Dynaheir. They each had their own ideas about party dynamics at the moment, but one interesting turnabout was clear to them both: Imoen's nativity had clashed with Dynaheir's prudence. Imoen had mistakenly identified Edwin as the victim (Even Edwin would have phrased that as a 'mistake') and in doing so had transferred her confidence from one wizard to the other. The repercussions were interesting/alarming. But with Edwin's leg injured and Dynaheir's alleged ethical limits, the two wizards ignored the opportunity to duel.

Across the cavern from them, Xzar was frantically scribbling in his spellbook. Edwin glanced at him once or twice, wondering at how such a chaotic mind could make use of magic. Whatever Xzar's exact madness or condition, it had clearly not affected his skills. Then it stood to reason, Edwin thought, that the spellbook must demonstrate a degree of clarity. Xzar prepared spells from it, after all.

Edwin did not look up as Jaheira stood as if to address them all. "It is late, and we must be strong for combat upon waking. All should get what rest they can."

"A fine suggestion," Edwin chuckled. "Only I am not entirely sure I trust you on watch."

Jaheira looked down at him. "Trust? I have mended your leg at the expense of being able to help others. Your paranoia is amusing; in a 'what the hell is wrong with you?' sort of way."

"Yes, well, as cute as your tongue is, it is not myself I think we should be concerned about. The last time I checked, oh noble healer, didn't our party necromancer nearly die the last time he was left alone in a room with the three of you?"

Xzar snarled at something completely unrelated to their conversation, throwing his spellbook to the ground in front of himself and tossing his quill down angrily atop of it. He plopped his chin on one fist and drummed on his knee with his opposite fingers, clearly upset with something. Jaheira glanced back at the madman before looking back to Edwin.

"That is really your concern? I doubt it. But if so, feel free to ward his sleeping mat so that you may rescue him should he be ambushed."

"It is not the spirit of the assault that I minded; merely that there was an arrangement, and that you chose to violate it. If you would break a pact for vengeance, what else are you capable of? How should I know you simply will not submit to this internal chaos and exterminate half the party while their backs are turned?"

"Edwin, your gratitude positively oozes out. Like some sort of grotesque mustard jelly limed in piss."

"Such actions would be ignoble," Branwen answered in her thick Northeim brogue from where she sat across the cavern. "There will be no craven betrayals this evening; I will swear that to the gods! Even on behalf of you." Her voice dropped. "Though at times I feel you shame this party with your mere presence..."

"R-rest e-easy," Khalid agreed. "I-I am quite s-sure we can get through an e-evening without all turning into a pack of b-barbarians."

Edwin smirked and looked back at his book. "Well, one of us can. (As for the others, aren't they always?)"

Xzar stood up abruptly. He began pacing forward, walking straight past Jaheira as if she weren't even there, muttering to himself in a garble of languages such that even Edwin was hard-pressed to figure out what the necromancer was saying. Glancing up at him with a furrowed brow, the Thayvian took a moment to diagnose what the hells the man was doing to the fine art of grammar; or if he was simply raving. But Xzar wasn't. He was muttering on energy sources, gods, spell components, inks, and divine energy.

Edwin's brows furrowed with the realization that he was listening to a very lucid, if jumpy, rant. The necromancer was verbally analyzing something, some spell or ward, but Edwin lacked the historical and circumstantial context to follow it. He would have done anything for a spell to record voice as written words in that moment. There was something bizarre and unusual about Xzar that tested the definition of madness. The Thayvian glanced over at where the necromancer's book rested open on the ground.

This one is clear-headed when he writes, Edwin mused. A wizard could not cast without an appreciation for the weave. Whatever plagued Xzar, there was no way that he could have ignored the fundamental laws of magic. Casting required a disciplined will; and that meant somewhere within Xzar's befuddled skull there rested a keen spark of wit. It would be fascinating to get hold of that spellbook and see what little secrets the necromancer's broken mind still harbored.

"Apparently few are interested in wisdom this evening. Well, goodnight," Jaheira muttered, heading over towards her bedroll.

Xzar continued to pace, folding his arms behind his back for awhile before finally stopping just in front of the cavern entrance and staring out into the dark. He let his hands drift back to his sides, touched the handle of his knife, and cocked his head to the side as if listening.

"Do you think the voices in his head are telling him to kill us?" Edwin mused.

"Erm..." muttered Khalid, trying not to think about Xzar much at all.

"The threads move," Xzar said as if talking to them. "They twist and waver; all golden like dust, and red like blood. Golden... and red. I wonder at the irony; is it symbolic or merely coincidental? Can you see them? No, perhaps not. It is unfortunate to talk with no appreciative ears. Eleven and thirty or one and twelve; I was surprised at the recognition. Is it sharpness, or merely acclimation to the speaker? I should sketch the guess of the form. How many fingers? Two thumbs, I'd wager; to a total of thirty when counting the metacarpals. The other side, perhaps additional spurs to complement? Which side? Sinister; left; fitting! Matches."

No, he shouldn't have assumed the man was anything other than babbling. Edwin looked annoyed back down to his spellbook.

Khalid rubbed the back of his neck, grimacing up at the necromancer and trying to figure out what it was any child of Gorion's could see in such a monster. But as terrifying as Xzar was, Khalid had seen him lunge in front of a ghoul's jaws to protect Aegis. Abruptly the necromancer looked at him. "Ah? Hello... X-Xzar?"

"Aegis is left handed!" the necromancer beamed, and then he giggled. "Simple things get past me, now, you know. The pieces are not all there."

Khalid was not certain whether to laugh or sit there quietly and pretend he hadn't heard anything. "Y-you... seem to r-really care about Ae-aegis..." he hazarded. Maybe he was a little curious. He realized that in the entire last month he had never attempted to have a single real conversation with the person whom Gorion's child seemed to be enamored with. True the man was unsettling, but...

"Care?" Xzar asked. "Care..." He thought about the question. "Is that like worrying about Death?"

The half-elf shifted uncertainly. "Perhaps?" he offered.

"That might explain some things," The necromancer considered, looking back out to the darkness and rubbing his chin. His tattoos were terrifying; the permanent black cheshire smile coupled with the harlequin diamonds made him look manic even when he was thinking deeply and at ease. "What does murder smell like?"

"W-what?" That did not pass for sociable conversation. Khalid sighed. "D-dreadful, I suppose? B-blood?"

"And offal. Unless it is murder in a brothel; then I suppose there would be plenty of incense. But a field of flowers? I never thought of it that way. But need it be murder? Will death work? Funerals have flowers, don't they, half-elf?"

"I don't th-think I understand m-much of this c-conversation." Perhaps it was best not to unwittingly put ideas in the madman's head.

"Neither do I," Xzar agreed. "I am already aligned; so why can I not make sense of the threads? I get distracted. Gold and red. I know where they should go, but I can't seem to put them there. One and twelve. Simple. A wall with an opening." He pulled a hand through his hair. "The flayed man bothers me, I could root him out. How many of his priests would be proper sacrifice? Twelve? Do I offer their hearts or their skins?

"Excuse me?" Khalid protested.

"Probably asking the wrong adviser. Tell me, half-elf, why do you love our leader? You had never met her. Is it for her father?"

The question was so abruptly lucid that the half-elf was startled into answering. "Well- yes- but- Aegis is a sweet and wonderful g-girl. Her f-father G-gorion was our d-dear friend; we owe h-him our lives and ac-ccompanied him on many adventures..."

"I see, I see. Yet you tell her nothing about him or yourselves. Do you trust her? I wonder, could you hate her for her father, if you found she were the daughter of a different man?"

"What?"

"If you discovered she were the child of Manshoon but behaved all the same as she does now, would you trust her? Would you fear what she was capable of? Did your convictions not waver when she explained how she might murder?"

Khalid frowned, eyeing the necromancer warily. Mention of the Zhents would surely have put Jaheira on the offensive had she been awake. "But s-she is not. T-that is not the case. Aegis is our f-friend's ch-child and we will h-help her."

"How noble," Xzar sneered, looking over as if he found moral fault with the half-elf. "One day, do me this favor: Ask your sweet niece what she feels when she watches a man die. Ask her if she feels anger, or satisfaction, or mania. You might be surprised by the answer."

I d-don't understand w-what you are insinuating."

Xzar glanced behind him lazily and then lowered his voice, eyes heavy-lidded with amusement. "I am suggesting you have a long conversation with Aegis about her attraction to death. Lowercase. Ask her why she's sleeping with a man suffused in it. Because I want to see your face when you walk out of the room with the realization that she has more affinity for a man who once ate sentient flesh and made sacrifice to the Deadly Three than she'll ever have for you." He grinned mischievously at Khalid's flabbergasted dismay and then turned his gaze back out the darkness.

"Y-you... you unbelievable, horrible-!" The half-elf was rising, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword (though to his credit he did not draw it).

Xzar frowned, his eyes widening as he looked searchingly out into the black. "Something's wrong," he said, hushed and rapid. "Little Death, where are you?"

Khalid, frowned, looking briefly out into the cavern. Then there was a chitter as Urso bounded out of the darkness, and Xzar shrunk back horrified. Then he turned around. "Everyone! The small, fuzzy, vermin belonging to the giant, berserking ranger is here with ill portent! I suggest rousing yourselves so we might share a quick prayer to the gods for the death of the bard, and then move to rescue our valiant leader!"

"The hamster? Can all madmen hear it, now?" Edwin asked incredulously, dropping his spellbook to his lap in surprise. Xzar thought about that as the party quickly stumbled to, and giggled.

"What is it?" Jaheira asked, coming up and then blinking at Urso, who was standing up on his hind legs and making unhappy hisses and yips up at them. "Nn? They're in danger." She stood. "We must go."

"That's terrible, but no," Edwin answered. "First of all, unless I stoop to the indignity of having one of you gorillas carry me, I cannot walk. And second of all, I believe the original plan entailed us remaining here until your spells were recharged, if some rescue was unfortunately necessary. (Not that I expected any subsection of this party not including myself to demonstrate competence...)"

"The plan has changed. If that is how you feel, Edwin, then we shall leave you to your studies. Dynaheir, are you prepared for battle?"

"I am indeed," the Wychlaran agreed, rising to her feet.

"I may not have healing magic but I am ready for a fight," Branwen also agreed, picking up her hammer and moving to join them. "Let us move swiftly, and Tempus will guide us to victory."

"I haven't agreed to this," Edwin told them.

"You don't have to. Let's move," Jaheira ordered. "Urso, if you would do us the honor of leading..."

Edwin tensed. "You can't force me."

"We shall not," Jaheira answered.

"You are leaving me here? You cannot leave me here!"

"You have declined to accompany, have you not?" The druid asked.

"But I would be alone!"

"Is that not how you prefer things?"

"I cannot walk!" the mage protested incredulously. "(I am at the mercy of this wretched abyss!) I confess I would understand the abandonment were it not great magical prowess you require; and your odds without me are slim to none!"

"I am confident any wizard as competent as yourself will be quite capable of surviving one night alone in a cave. Or do you fear your spells insufficient to snuff out your enemies, Red Wizard of Thay? I suppose that speaks volumes as to your potency. Fear not, we will return within the space of hours." Jaheira headed out.

"You'll all die in that dungeon fools! And if I had the means to exit on my own I would piss on your corpses before departing. This is a mistake, and one you will regret!"

Dynaheir turned about to face him. "If thou wish, and if thou sees thine own self as such a crucial component to success, I shall offer thee my shoulder to lean upon."

"And your belt knife for my ribs, no doubt, witch? How they cannot see your evil is beyond me! A plague on all of you; I'm staying here. And when you all perish I shall make my own way out!"

"I am sorry thou feels this way," the Wychlaran said slowly. "Given that the person most in danger down there is Imoen... That the party rescued Imoen yesterday... and that it is only Imoen who rescued thee."

She turned away as well. Xzar giggled at him and waved. "See you soon!" he cooed happily, and then bounded off after the others.

Edwin snarled. Heroic rescues were so far beneath him they were insulting. The only thing more insulting at the moment was the witch's attempt to manipulate him with guilt or regret. Edwin had felt regret once; It had involved a bowl of questionably fresh lobster bisque. Aside from that? Ha. He flipped quickly through pages of his spell book, finding the set of wards he would need. He hoped that the party did return, just so that it would be his defensive spells that blew them to pieces as they stumbled hurt and exhausted through the entrance.

Unlike every single other member of the party, Edwin Odesseiron no longer had any motivation to be loyal; no motivation, whether it be emotional, rational, or underhanded. He was done.

His fingers settled on the page for his Sepia Snake Sigil, and his brows furrowed first in confusion, then anger. Fresh ink. Not in his own hand.

Chapter Text

Burning oil explosions provided illumination and left kobolds screaming. Everything was chaos. "Come on, come on, come on!" the ranger hissed, bracing herself to shoot one of the nearest kobolds. "For the love of the gods, Imoen, pretend you've an angry Ulraunt on your tail and you've stolen his spellbook!" Garrick pegged another kobold with a crossbow bolt and then stooped to reload.

Looking pale and slightly shocked, Imoen leaned heavily on Montaron, her injured leg dragging behind her and the fire arrow still embedded in the thigh. Much to his own chagrin, the halfling had not left her behind. He had two arrows embedded in one shoulder pauldron, but his cloak had absorbed most of the momentum and neither had reached flesh.

The duo reached the cavern and Aegis darted forward momentarily, scooping Imoen up off the ground and hiking the smaller girl up bridal style. "Good!" she hissed to Montaron approvingly. "Move!"

An arrow and another bolt whipped past them as Garrick and Minsc waved them backwards. As a party, they turned and ran. Excited cackles rippled up behind them and spread out into the caves on all sides.

"You said there was a trap?" the elf wizard called as they ran.

"Walk where ye see us walk!" The halfling warned.

The party dashed, picking winding tunnel after tunnel at a dead run with Urso and Montaron in the lead, as if they were familiar with the terrain. The enchanter trusted them to know what they were doing. Arrows thudded into the stalagmites around them and Minsc executed a surprisingly accurate firing-backwards maneuver while simultaneously avoiding smacking headlong into numerous stone pillars. Montaron pulled a burning oil bottle out of his pocket and uncorked it with his teeth. As they passed a hall he ducked under an arrow and lobbed the vessel to the side, causing a small explosion of flame to ripple out.

They came to a reasonably broad cavern and at the end the party dodged carefully around a rectangular patch of earth. The elf enchanter did likewise. Not thirty second later, a rock trap exploded behind them and buried at least two dozen kobolds. The group hurried forward, and the yipping fell further and further behind them.

When they could no longer hear their pursuit, they ducked down a side passage to tend to their wounds briefly. Aegis settled Imoen down on a rock, tossed her bow down, and was slinging off her pack when she'd heard Garrick's startled cry. Spinning around she saw a ghoul was coming at him, slashing wildly with its claws. There were seconds to act, so she didn't stop to think.

She charged. Claws landed on Garrick and she watched his body stop moving. Then she plowed into the ghoul, knocking it off of him and ramming it down into the earth. Claws grabbed at her unarmored form, punching into her skin. Aegis's fingers closed around its neck, holding back its vicious jaws.

"Aegis!" Minsc called, starting towards her. "Ae!" Imoen cried. Their new elf wizard moved not at all and tilted his head to the side, like a deer reacting to a bright oil lamp.

Twist. Pull. Twist. SNAP.

Aegis tore to her feet, shrieking out a deep, barbaric, primal roar. The ghoul's body was limp beneath her. Minsc came up short, surprised. She whipped around to face him, holding the ghoul's disembodied head in furiously shaking fingers, her teeth clenched tightly together. "Easy..." the Rashemi man said slowly, backing up a step. "Easy now. We're all great friends! See? You know Boo, Boo knows you! I have no spirits; but if I did we would drink to you now with great noise!"

Aegis stood there, shaking with rage for several moments, wide eyes flicking around to take in her party. Then she took in a long, slow breath and threw the ghoul's head to the ground that she might crush it under her boot. Minsc nodded and came up, putting an arm around her shoulders and chafing her arm.

"There! See? You would make a great Rashemi berserker! Although I do not know if many women join lodges... Still!"

In the distance they heard yipping. The elf looked from her to the passage leading out. A frown tugged low at the corners of his mouth and he stepped quickly to the side. "I believe we have been found out," he said.

"What? But then we have to- Oh no, Garrick," Imoen muttered. "He was the one who was supposed to inform Jaheira! Well, it'll wear off soon. Right? Right?"

"Urso," Aegis managed to speak. "Urso, go to Jaheira..."

The raccoon bounded up to her and stood up on his rear legs to sniff curiously at her hands.

"Go to Jaheira, Urso."

The animal hesitated and then turned and hopped off, his ringed tail disappearing down through a crevice in the surrounding chamber.

"Aegis? After this, you need to practice archery."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," The taller girl muttered, spinning around the corner and loosing her next arrow. Predictably, she missed. Shucks! She ducked back just in time to avoid turning into another human porcupine. Imoen rolled her eyes and leaned over about the corner. Twak! Twak! Two kobolds collapsed. Montaron grabbed her shoulder and hauled her back.

"Hold still, damn ye!" the halfling snarled at her. "Before I stab ye!

"Isn't that the opposite of what you're trying to do?" Imoen giggled down at him. The archer had a tourniquet around one leg. Her pant leg was soaked crimson. Montaron grabbed her by the cowl of her cloak.

"Hold. Still." This was no time for silliness, and Montaron was a breath away from slapping her upside the head to let her know that.

She nodded as he uncorked the next healing potion and poured it directly into the blackened arrow pit in her thigh. Imoen hissed and then sighed in relief, holding still as Montaron bandaged up the healing pink flesh to prevent infection or further injury. "I'm not going to be running," she winced. "Are we getting surrounded?"

"Of course," the elf wizard sighed. "For what it's worth, I almost felt as if we had a brief chance in the middle there."

"It was a fine plan!" Minsc agreed, sending another arrow down the shaft. The kobold it hit was knocked off its feet and pinioned to the far wall.

The elf wizard glanced up at where Garrick was still frozen in place, a look of terror on his face. "Until the ghoul," he muttered morosely. "Yes, even I thought we'd eluded them."

"Isn't that going to wear off ever?" Imoen asked, exasperated. "Why didn't it last this long when it happened to Ae? We're so close to getting back! It's not far! Ugh, we're going to get surrounded and then someone is going to come investigate... Hey, Aegy, how come you didn't get paralyzed this time?"

Aegis thought back... "Garrick's just not as hardy as me," the Ranger decided in explanation. "The first ghoul got the jump on me but this time I wasn't just ready, I was also mad. I guess I just shrugged it off?"

"All of our hopes ride on the back of a singular raccoon," the enchanter sighed despondently. "I shudder to think what will happen when the kobolds finally realize they should report back. When Mulahey reaches us..."

"That's not going to happen," Aegis retorted. "You know, Imoen, I wasn't entirely clear on why we were actually picking up all those arrows. Now I admit to being glad for it."

"We'll run out eventually," the enchanter told them. "Or, since you have no food or water with you, we will merely starve to death."

"Shut up elf, yer mopin's enough to put any man in a foul mood and ye ain't helpin' morale," Montaron growled. "Why we even rescued ye at all at the risk o' our hide and hair is beyond my ken, that's fer sure!"

"Monty," Imoen protested, noticing how the elf flinched.

"Told ye as much before we went down there!"

Imoen leaned over and kissed the halfling's brow. His fingers clenched against the cloth of her pant leg. Then he sighed, disarmed. "You're just hungry," She teased, and he growled.

"I think Xzar packed extra food," Aegis said. "I've finally gotten him to start eating regular dinners, and he took it pretty seriously." Then she realized what she'd said, and looked over to see Imoen and Montaron's horrified expressions. "Erm... nevermind."

"What's your name, by the way?" Aegis asked of the elf, sending another arrow down the corridor. "I need to know who to start the cheer for when I finally have a tankard of ale in hand and a warm fire to kick my feet up in front of..."

"Xan," the elf responded quietly. "That is a truncation of course; but I prefer it such. And please... no cheering."

The wizards led with everything in their arsenal; the top of their craft. They had no time for mistakes, and they didn't have to conserve their firepower. A lightning bolt exploded down the cavern, twisting subtly to follow its path and bursting through the petite bodies of three score wretched little lizard monsters. Those kobolds who escaped the onslaught whirled to face the oncoming party with some trepidation.

"Ni marahl maar nol hahvulon!" Kobolds shrieked as the horror effect rippled outward in a nova. They scrambled over each other and the dead bodies of their kin to escape, wailing and gnashing their teeth in desperate terror.

The elf enchanter perked up, ears twitching. "I hear something," he said, with a note of hopefulness that pierced his usual melancholy gloom. The mild alteration in his tone of voice was so alien that it signified their party might actually be the thing he heard. Only a few seconds later, there was a bright flash and an audible crack as a lightning bolt blew through the chamber opposite them on the corridor.

"Feisty one!" Minsc shouted excitedly. "It should be safe! Let us join them swiftly!"

Aegis nodded in agreement. She turned about and walked over to Garrick, picking up the frozen bard and turning him diagonally to carry him beneath the arm like a log. "Well, this is awkward," she said. "Alright. Let's go!"

Jaheira, Khalid, and Branwen kept close around the two wizard, fingers twitching on their weapons as they considered their own vulnerability. The party's healing potions were with Aegis and her company for very obvious reasons. When they spotted movement, they were so tense that it took Dynaheir a moment to realize she should most definitely not send any magic missiles in their direction. "Minsc!" she called in delight.

The two parties recombined into one.

Minsc gave Dynaheir a big grateful hug (she blushed). Jaheira came up to take Imoen's opposite shoulder and to help support the injured girl ("I'm okay, guys, really!") Aegis set down a frozen Garrick and wiped her brow, relieved everyone had survived. Xzar scowled at the realization that Garrick was one of those survivors; then he noticed blood all over Aegis's tunic, forgot about the bard, and hurried up to her. To the ranger's surprise, he proceeded to feel all over her. He found the pits the ghoul claws had left and hissed to himself, clearly frustrated.

"You are hurt!" the madman complained, in the same whining tone of voice as if someone had disrupted his hypothetical dead mouse collection or listening to someone mis-remember the more subtle properties of gibbering spleens.

"I'm fine!" Aegis disagreed with a laugh. "I should be ghoul chow right now, but I'm fine! Ouch, Xzar, that one's tender. Yes, more than the others."

Xan lingered partially behind the larger Candlekeep girl and Minsc, looking uncertain and rubbing his forearm. Upon seeing the necromancer up close, he perked up a little with disturbed surprise and uncertainty. Xzar was rather unnerving even on a first glance. It was mostly the tattoos. Commoners had a tendency to point him out while the troupe was walking through the city.

Xzar was scolwing to himself and shaking his head irritably. "No divine magic, not anymore," he muttered angrily. "Minor drain? Misdirect the channel? Possible?"

"You don't have to rewrite the laws of spellcraft to heal me, Xzar, I'm fine," Aegis teased, mussing her madman's hair. She might not have known anything about magic in general, but after living with this man for a moon or two she was probably a greater expert on random necromantic terms than most living people would ever be. If Xzar was fussing over her injuries and muttering about minor drains, he was considering how he might mend her.

"Were you bitten?" he fussed, ducking and sliding around her to peer under and around her arms and at her back and so forth.

"No, I learned from what you said the first time," she promised, twisting to follow him with her gaze. "Are you going to be like this every time I have to carry out a task outside your immediate field of vision?"

The necromancer glared at her almost viciously, his pupils contracted and his brows knit tightly together. Aegis blinked and then gave a little oof when he hugged her and wrapped his arms about her shoulders and chest. She hummed contently, returned the embrace, and even cupped the back of his head to encourage him in taking refuge against her neck.

"Unacceptable!" he hissed to himself or maybe to her. "Unreasonable, unpleasant, undesirable, unbearable, unsavory, un-"

"Unintentional?" Aegis answered him and he made an unhappy sound.

"Mal Dinok," the necromancer muttered, what she thought might be draconic, and then veered off into at least elfin and dwarvish and then she wasn't even sure what after that. "Pina Nurufanta; Git Mornitessi; Xzalumicu Moartea; Xzalumil Mukhel; Byatshkan Moaratuk;" He went on like that for a bit as Aegis laughed.

"Okay! Okay, I'm sorry. I get it. I'll be more careful."

"Interesting choice of... companion..." Xan hazarded. He had understood at least two of the muttered languages and could surmise the necromancer was repeating a multilingual approximation of 'Little Death' for the gods only knew what reason. Xan was also rather certain he had just recognized several Thari dialects among all of that battle, which placed the man as a Mooneye. Dreadful people, but it surely helped explain the high degree of crazy in the air.

Aegis twisted to shoot a smile back at the elf. "He's short a few cards," she agreed. "Fair warning: Xzar has a tendency to freak people out. Sometimes without even intending to, I think." Xzar blinked, peering past Aegis at the elf curiously. Then his face lit up

"New friend? he asked curiously. "Or spare parts?"

Xan shrunk down. Definitely a Moonsea native. Paranoid, insane, blunt, and to make it all worse: oblivious.

"Um, like that. I did warn you," Aegis reminded Xan apologetically, and then glared back at her necromancer. "Be nice Xzar."

"Maybe I was only teasing," the necromancer cooed, and then to Aegis's horror he released her and hopped happily over to the enchanter and even touched him. "You're filthy," he tutted, brushing dust off a helpless and slightly violated looking Xan. "You need a bath. And some soap." Touch touch touch. "And maybe some good hair cream... Then you'll feel much better! You're an elf, yes? Hehe, pointy ears. Like a rabbit's! Only not as bad, no. Much better. Better than the nasty druid, too!"

Aegis stared like a stunned deer as the poor elf had to suffer through the indignity of a necromancer playing with his ears. Then she darted forward and grabbed Xzar's arms, wresting him away from Xan and interposing herself between them. "That is not socially acceptable," she informed the necromancer.

"When am I ever?" Xzar wondered, blinking at her with round and curious green eyes. "Has Jaheira forgotten what I am again? Should the bard compose a song to explain it? He is busy; alas; he is never useful. I suppose I never did say it out loud where she could hear before. Why are you looking at me like that? Your eyes! Stop it, or I will take them!"

"Xzar if you ever run up and molest the elf—or anyone else but me—like that again, I will let Jaheira bite your fingers off and I won't force her to give them back to you. Is that clear?" Aegis established the rules with him in a low and very serious voice

Xzar considered this, looking at his fingers and wiggling them slightly where Aegis was holding them. He looked back up at her. "Very well," he agreed solemnly. Then his expression perked up again. "Do you like tea?" he twisted about to look at the elf as he asked it. Xan blinked wide-eyed at him. "I shall make some tea to calm the nerves. Don't worry! I will not flavor it. Eegee would be angry, hehe!"

Branwen sighed, coming up to examine Garrick and to see what could be done with him; then she paused when she noticed Xan.

"Everyone!" Minsc boomed happily, stepping back from Dynaheir and grabbing the elf by the arm. The difference between Minsc and Xan was night and day; the scrawny mage's arms could have fit three times or more in the circumference of the Rashemi's. "This is Xan! Right, Boo? And he is a male elf wizard!" he specified brightly.

Xan winced, looking very much like a poached and emaciated rabbit being held up on display for supper, with his ears dropping behind him. "Hello."

"You... you poor thing!" Branwen sputtered, and then she came up and put an arm around him. This was the third time someone had suddenly grabbed Xan in a few short minutes, but to be fair there was immediately something motherly or at least warm about Branwen's approach that put the elf more at ease. "You look positively awful. Do you eat meat? Do elves eat meat? Here, I have some jerky and water." It was a good thing Garrick was frozen.

Jaheira no doubt would have helped if she were not already serving as Imoen's crutch. But Khalid did hurry over to take stock of the full blooded elf, checking over him for any serious injuries and asking him if he was alright. The warm, if overly touchy, reception seemed to lift the melancholy wizard's spirits ever so slightly, and though he rejected the offer of food he took the flask of water gladly and drank from it as if they'd found him out in a sweltering desert (Why had no one else thought to ask him if he wanted any, wondered Imoen, and why hadn't he just asked them earlier?) Branwen rubbed the elf's shoulder pityingly.

There was a hard, ghastly boom behind them that seemed to make the air cold and ripple out in cries or screams or shrieks or something. Answering kobold screams and yips went running off away from them.

"Blimey! What was that?" Imoen asked.

Xzar giggled. "A skull trap," he said proudly. "Retreat, we should. The Red Wizard will be getting fuusssyyy!"

"Edwin? Did you all leave him behind?!" Aegis exclaimed. "He can't walk! You guys, you're lettin' me down on the united-party-defense angle!"

"He was being confrontational and unhelpful, and it was a short trip to get to you as you'd made it most of the way back to us," Jaheira answered. "He will be fine. He has his full range of spells available to him, no?"

"He is a conjurer," Dynaheir agreed. "He can summon monsters to fight for him if need be. Let us be swift on our return."

"Everyone, stop!" Imoen exclaimed in alarm.

"The devil ye on about now, girl?" Montaron huffed. "We're ten steps a-"

"Stop! STOP! We could all die!" Imoen shrieked. The rest of the party paused, looking back at Imoen in alarm.

"What are you talking about?" Jaheira demanded, rubbing her ear where Imoen had just hollered in it.

"Wards!" Imoen protested, trying to pull free of Jaheira and limping heavily up towards the cavern entrance. "He'll have warded it!"

"We have not been gone so long," Dynaheir protested, offering an arm to steady Imoen as the girl approached the front of the party. "And we are not so incompetent as to assume we would not return. Plus, he cannot easily stand."

Imoen looked at the woman as if she had two heads. "Wow. For a person whose people have been in conflict with Thay since forever ago, you really have no idea how that man's head works, do you? I mean, I don't either, but yeesh."

"I know he is a monster and you have helped him at times," Dynaheir responded quietly.

Imoen wrinkled her nose. "Look, can anyone cast a scry or a dispel magic or something? He's not lazy and he doesn't take chances." And he totally would have no problems if we did survive and came home to a big fire-themed surprise. But she didn't say that last part out loud.

Dynaheir considered this and then turned uncertainly to begin casting. The rest of the party, hurt and exhausted, shifted back and forward from one foot to another as they awaited the witch's verdict. Fortunately, the detect magic only took a minute.

"You are right," Dynaheir realized at last, opening her eyes. "So quick. Why did he do this, and why so swiftly? Thank you, Imoen. I can't imagine how this did not occur to me."

"Don't worry, I'm the trap expert!" she cooed. A halfling who had prevented her from stepping on a rock trap pressure plate just a day ago decided this was a good time to pinch her. Hard. "Ow! Edwin! Can you hear us? We're alive!"

"Truly? Amazing. (I couldn't tell from all the shouting.) Well done, you have overcome the exceedingly low expectations I have come to associate with you all."

"The wards, Edwin?" Aegis sighed, still carrying Garrick again. Xzar was making silly faces at the frozen man and occasionally saying things to Xan in elfish that were making the enchanter nervous.

"Oh but they're so far away for an invalid such as myself to reach!" Edwin said sarcastically, and then dropped his voice to a mutter they couldn't really hear: "Not that this seemed to matter to anyone when I was left here..."

"Party troubles?" Xan asked slowly.

"Eh," Aegis sighed. "It's what happens when you recruit on talent instead of attitude."

"Besides, don't you have two or three wizards out there now?" Edwin asked. I'm sure together they ought to be able to do something. Eventually. (Fools, I swear, I should just spare them all the suffering; fling a fireball right into them, poof!)"

Dynaheir sighed. "I shall begin to dispel, though it is a waste of magic. Fear not; these were hastily erected and will not take me long."

"Go ahead," Aegis agreed. "Probably best we don't try to order it from him or bribe him. If it makes him feel better to momentarily inconvenience everyone then give the man his small victories. I'll talk with him later."

"I warned you he was black powder," Jaheira muttered.

"And much as it pains me, I be agreein' with the druid," Montaron muttered. "Can I just kill the bastard when we get in there and be done with it?"

"Montaron!" Imoen complained. "He's just stuffy is all. Oof. I think I need to redress my leg."

"I'll boil water ta clean it once we're in," the halfling told her, and Jaheira glanced over at the uncharacteristic show of sympathy. She said nothing; best not to ruin it.

Dynaheir stepped forward to cast, but Imoen had a theory and she wanted to test it. While Edwin might not have been willing to dispel the wards on even the most threatening command, he might have been susceptible to doing it for other reasons; like ending an annoyance. "But my leg hurts!" she complained, her voice listening to a high, nasal whine. "Edwin! Edddwwwinnn! My leg huurrrtts! Let us innn!"

"Oh that's mature," came an annoyed sigh.

"Please please please please? Eeedwwinnn I'm dyinngggg, we match noww, Edwinnnn, I can't walllkkk eittherrr, Pleassee!?"

"If you think that I'm going to help you because of pity you have another thing coming!" Now angry.

"I can't walk, my leg hurts, my feet hurt, I've been shot by kobolds, Edwinnnn don't leave us out heeerrreeee, I'm so sleeeppyyy! Eddwinnn!"

"That voice could kill dead men!"

"Edwin Edwin Edwin Edwin Edwin Edwin please please please please please please! Edwin-!"

"STOP! Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up! Ye gods, woman! Fine! Fine! Shut up! Gods to have Silence prepared! Augh!" There was a rush of draconic and then the wards dissipated. Dynaheir paused in her casting, blinking in surprise and glancing over to where Imon was standing tall on her uninjured leg and beaming proudly. Montaron glanced up at her, a little surprised by the contrast between this and how she'd spoken to himself about the invisibility plan. He wondered at it.

Chapter Text

The group hobbled in to the cavern (warily, with Dynaheir detecting magic in the lead). Edwin was actually sitting up beside the entry wall of the cavern, instead of at his bedroll where they'd left him. He looked tired, and though his location was optimal for ambushing interlopers, it was likely he lacked the strength to hobble back to his previous spot across the cave.

"And the circus returns," he muttered angrily.

Though no one in the party was particularly happy with him, they largely avoided him. Jaheira, Montaron, and Branwen shot him dirty looks. Montaron glanced at Imoen and saw she was managing, so he hurried over to stoke the fire and settle to boiling water. It was going to take a few minutes. Aegis went and settled Garrick down. The paralysis was lasting hilariously long.

Xzar skipped over to his pack and set to digging out supplies, humming merrily to himself. Branwen offered her blanket for Xan to sit down on, and then soaked a cloth in water so he could wipe off his face and arms. Xan took the offered cloth thankfully and the vigorous force with which he rubbed his skin free of grime suggested a much more spiritual need for cleanliness than simply physical. Whatever had happened to him, it was best not asking about,

"Aha!" the necromancer cooed, earning a wary glance from Xan and Branwen. Aegis rubbed her temple with a sigh. Then she blinked in horrified wonder when Xzar actually pulled out a wrapped package and hopped his way over to where the elf enchanter was sitting. He knelt down and unwrapped the bundle, revealing it to be of waxed paper and to be filled to bursting with lightly picked collar greens. He offered it wordlessly to the elf.

Oh dear Oghma. He is actually attempting to be nice to someone other than me, Aegis realized. Montaron shot the necromancer an equally baffled expression.

As for the elf, Xan gaped at him for a moment and then looked up to Branwen, who looked equally baffled; and then he looked to Aegis, who shrugged helplessly. "It's not... poisoned if that's what you're wondering," the ranger answered. "It's just cabbage. I don't like like pickled food, though, so I can't exactly vouch for the taste without bias."

"It tastes wonderful! Like me!" Xzar told Xan and patted the elf's hand. "Don't worry about me, either; I'll eat the rest of the liver instead. It won't be good raw for much longer, anyways."

Any sane human being could easily tell they ought to turn Xzar down. And Xan was most definitely sane. Sane, prudent, rational, paranoid, and realistic. So he was a little confused when several minutes later he found himself scarfing down the offered greens with tears in his eyes. Maybe it had just been too long since the last time he'd gotten to eat vegetable matter. Anyway, the pickling had been done recently with nothing more insidious than some red wine vinegar; the food was practically fresh. And it was good.

"Poor elfy," Xzar muttered soothingly, petting the elf's back and earning nearly convulsive twitches and quivers each time he did it. Branwen looked up at Aegis, who was at a loss for what to tell her.

"Um, just keep an eye on them," the ranger suggested. "I have no idea what is going through his head, but it appears to be friendly."

Imoen smiled at the conjurer the moment she entered the room; and since his way was also a convenient place for her to stop, she hobbled over and slid to the ground beside him. The Red Wizard sneered, glancing up from his spellbook. "If you say one word to me; if I have to endure a single syllable-!" he warned her.

Imoen winked and closed her lips tightly, holding up her finger in a hush gesture. Then she leaned back into the wall and heaved a mute sigh. She needed to relax after running so far on a bad leg.

Edwin glowered at her, glanced at her bloody trouser leg to see she hadn't been lying, and then turned with a huff to study his spell book.

"Edwin?" Aegis was coming up to them.

"Here comes the queen gorilla, master of dull conversation. What is it now?" the wizard complained.

"I wanted to say thank you, and to apologize you had to hold down the fort alone for awhile. I appreciate we had a camp to come back to."

"Yes, well," Edwin said blithely, "Isn't that cute of you, trying to make everyone feel all valuable and appreciated; pretending things are happy when we're taking jabs at each other left and right? I'll just have to hide the wards better next time. Hopefully a good fire will prevent your skewed interpretation of events, and your laughable attempts to curry loyalty, from bothering me next time."

Aegis lifted a brow and glanced at Imoen, who shrugged. The ranger realized handling the Thayvian was perhaps a task better suited to her sister. Aegis wasn't near clever enough to banter properly with the wizard, and one way or another, Imoen had gotten him to stand down his defenses. It felt like she knew what she was doing. But.

But.

Edwin's words were fighting words, and Aegis realized she had no alternative but to assume the role of an authority figure and hope her sister could handle the fallout. Edwin was getting out of control, and Aegis needed to nip an altercation in the bud.

She stepped up closer to Edwin, crossing her arms over her chest. "Edwin. If kobolds had been pursuing us and we were moving too fast to scan for wards, little man, your spell would have killed us and the kobolds would have charged in unharmed and slain you. This time your bad temper didn't kill anyone. It was tolerable. Almost cute,"

The Thayvian had been affecting to ignore her or construct a witty reply, but at those precise words his eyes flit upward and he glared at her as if he might cast a prestidigitation and somehow make it squeeze her heart to pulp within her chest.

"but if you ever do something like this again and get someone hurt? You won't be laughing at the consequences, Edwin."

"You think those insults are acceptable? You don't give me orders," the Red Wizard told her. "Be careful what you say, ranger. (You don't want to push me any farther than I've been pushed this day, I assure you.) You know exactly why I follow you, and my reasons are not yours. Furthermore, it is not my fault if these fools leave me behind while injured and I must construct my own defenses. Have I made myself perfectly clear? Or do you need me to repeat it in baby words and animal grunts so that your minute, insectoid little brain can comprehend?" He shifted to look back to his book as if the argument were done with.

"No. While you are here, you will abide by everything I tell you. Because if you aren't mine, then you're some dangerous, short-tempered outsider. And an assassin who wants to kill one of my party members. Which, Edwin, I am rather sure, makes you fair game for the entire party's aggression."

He tensed, clawed fingers tightening on the edges of his spellbook. "You dare," he hissed. "You dare threaten me? Threaten me with them? Right after I let you freely pass my wards? After I was abandoned by them to whatever fate I constructed? I am fortunate I am more competent than that. But if you dare threaten me again, you will see just exactly how competent I can be."

"I am not threatening you; I am offering you an ultimatum. Either swear to respect my authority while you are with us and to give explicit notice in advance of any aggression if you are leaving; or else when morning comes Jaheira will finish any work needed for healing you, and then you are to leave our company and consider yourself at odds with us for as long as Dynaheir is with us."

Clawed fingers tensed.

"You already know my rules, Edwin. You know they are small in number and lax. But I need some better assurances that you are going to follow them." Aegis stepped back. "Tonight I will arrange the watches carefully, and inform the entire party that any word of Draconic you speak is to be treated as a threat. Decide where you belong, Edwin, and whether the success of this quest is still important to your goals. I don't have patience for any more infighting."

Aegis turned away and moved back to join the rest of the party. Imoen looked over at Edwin and saw that he was quaking with rage. She thought of reaching out to touch his arm, but then thought better of it. Eventually she picked up a stone from the cave floor, took a moment to translate the words in her head, and then leaned over to write on the floor in front of them.

When Edwin finally noticed the strange noise and glanced over to see what the insufferable hell-child was doing, he found her to be writing. He was just about to—he wasn't sure: drag himself away? threaten her? strangle her? roast her alive in front of her gods be damned 'sister'?—when he realized she wasn't writing in the Thorass alphabet. Rauric characters spiraled over the ground; an entirely different written system for an entirely different set of languages.

A chill wave of interest blew through his anger, replacing the snarl on his face with a look of surprised curiosity. How had he not foreseen this capability? Of course he could have anticipated this; if he'd let her continue rattling off languages the other day most certainly she would have mentioned Mulhourandi!

"Nna sepi, sehmi sawau pa'a," she had written in his native tongue. {It was my fault.} Though equipped with no more than a stone and incapable of executing the brush flourishes that would have made the sigils attractive, her handwriting remained impeccable. {I was seen while sneaking.}

How? Why learn these languages? What did I miss? He glanced at the violet girl, remembering her bizarre comment of liking to 'look' at a wizard's spellbook without actually being interested in learning. She's a bookworm, he realized with more than a little surprise; as the trait was incongruous with the rest of Imoen's undisciplined and buoyant character. And getting her to steal the necromancer's spellbook may be easier than I realized. As will using her against the witch.

Imoen looked up Edwin, noticing that the rare and fearsome peacock dragon had simmered down a little bit, his ruffled wing feathers settling back as he considered the implications of her writing. Hehe! None shall stand against the warm, golden, buttery goodness of Imoen the Pink! Was that lewd? Oh boy, I sure hope not. Yuck.

{Do not be angry,} she wrote, taking blame for things she obviously could not be blamed for, and in doing so diffusing the Red Wizard's anger through misdirection and contradiction.

When Edwin responded, it was aloud, and it was not in Common. {You wrote in my spellbook,} he snapped at her. Imoen blinked and leaned over to write. {No! Speak, stupid child! Don't write—that would be insufferably slow! Or did you not develop the verbal skill, library girl?}

Imoen hesitated. {My pronunciation will be bad,} she hazarded one word at a time.

He laughed. {Disgustingly so. But still better than the sound of a barbarian tongue like Thorasta. You wrote in my spellbook. Do you realize what sort of things I am going to do to you in exchange for just that? Never mind the stunts you pulled while we were entombed.}

{I wrote it with-} she fumbled for the correct word, ransacking a memory of dictionaries {-disappearing... ink!} "It'll fade to nothing if you leave it in the air for just a few minutes, or in a few days otherwise, promise!"

{Oh, will it? I am not so sure I trust such an ignorant fool. Your question, for instance: you wrote to ask why I did not use a Sepia Snake Sigil instead of Explosive Runes.}

He forced her back into Mulhourandi by refusing to speak in anything else. {Well the first time I went through your stuff, the book was not warded! You warded it recently and you were specifically trying to catch me, weren't you? You would have-} she struggled with the idiom {-blown me to bits!}

{As I told you I would! (Did I not tell the child? No, I did. In multiplicity, I am certain.)}

{But that is dangerous!} Imoen protested. {What if I had sneaked a peak near you while you were sleeping? Besides, it doesn't make any sense! You are a conjurer. The Sigil is conjuration; The Runes are abjuration!}

{And a Fireball is invocation; do you think any truly competent mage casts only from one school?! Conjuration is the ideal; its opposite school, Divination, is the most useless of all schools. Studying it also yields significant boons in the control of outsiders!}

Imoen pouted, her fluency developing rapidly. {You tried to kill me! What would you have done if it worked? Fled? The Sigil would have imprisoned me instantly; I would have been frozen in place for days for you to humiliate and parade around as punishment for my evil thieving ways! No one in the party would have looked twice at you for it! But instead you go to abjuration and try to explode me and maybe yourself?}

{This only serves to demonstrate how unerringly uninformed and illogical you are! I did not specifically try to kill you; I safeguarded my things as any fool harassed by a meddlesome thief and opposed to a dangerous witch should do! Why would I waste time, funds, and energy on making harmless the apprehension of a thief to whom I had already delivered two very specific and lethal warnings about touching my things? A Thayvian whelp would know better without one! For your information, you unfathomably inane brat, the Sigil requires spell components valued in excess of five hundred gold!}

Aegis leaned near Xzar, who was brewing tea. "What language is that?" she asked the necromancer, trusting her counterpart to be better versed in intelligent matters than herself despite his omnipresent madness. Edwin had gotten loud enough to overhear, and he definitely wasn't yelling in Thorasta.

"Mulhourandi," Xzar responded, surprised Aegis was ignorant of her own sister's capabilities.

"Can you understand it?" she queried, and Xzar shook his head.

"Only a little. But I think he likes her," the necromancer added that last in an amused mutter. "Eegee, taste this tea so that the poor elfy will know I didn't put kobold brains in it."

"I have so many new nicknames," Aegis sighed, lifting up the cup and taking a sip. "Xan? Hey. The crazy one wants me to give this to you. I have inspected it, and I would like to reassure you that it only contains harmless quantities of flora. And honey, I think."

The elf looked uncertainly at her a moment. Then he took the cup hesitantly from her fingers and sipped on it. At the initial smell of the vapors he seemed to relax a little. The taste put him at ease. Aegis winked and turned back to Xzar.

"What did you put in there?" she asked quietly.

"Klamath weed*," Xzar answered. "I might have tried nightshade for nerves, but I think elves are immune to its effects. It's hard to remember so many details."

Aegis made a face, realizing she hadn't misinterpreted her necromancer's behavior; he really was being nice. Weird.

Imoen considered what Edwin had just said. The fact that he'd stressed the warnings stood out to her.

{Wait,} she said. {So since you couldn't afford the Sigil, you warded the book lethally; but since you knew it would make me go boom you decided to give me a ton of warnings because you thought that would keep me from hurting myself? Instead of just letting me blunder in to it and wiping your hands of the matter? Aww... Edwin! That's very... considerate of you!"

The mage stared at her, a muscle throbbing in his clenched jaw, his eyes as deadly as razorblades. Imoen giggled.

"-I mean, in a totally backwards, egotistical, overbearing, and perverse sort of way?" she amended, needing to use Thorass so she could use the exact words she wanted.

{Whatever you are doing,} the mage spat in a low voice, {it will not work. I have no care or interest in you, neither you nor your wretched looseness. Leave me be.} He turned back to his book.

{ 'Looseness?' } Imoen stared at him, uncertain if she had heard him correctly when she had only rarely ever heard Mulhourandi spoken before. Without her tutors at Candlkeep, she would have no ear for the language at all. But when she was sure she understood him, she cracked up laughing {If you think I'm at all interested in sex with you, you have got another thing coming!}

{You would receive no request for such; though it is well your taste has already proven inexplicable. I shudder to think what should exist betwixt those legs that it should be suitable for the use of an odorous halfling. But as for your disdain? Ha! As if you know what you miss. These virtues have left hundreds of concubines gasping under my erotic onslaught-}

Imoen was laughing so hard that she drowned the Thayvian out. {If you were ever polymorphed by a druid, you would turn into a gigantic, fat... peacock!} she snickered.

{I am reminded of a quote about gratitude involving mustard oozes and urine...} he hissed at her, because he'd opened the wards to let her annoying rear end inside.

{Not everything is about you, Edwin! I am not 'doing' anything to anyone! I am just me! Imoen!}

{I see, I see, so you are simply naturally insufferable!} he snarled viciously.

{Yes. Edwin, don't leave.} Her tone changed. She was deadly serious. He frowned, looking back at his spellbook. {You have never explained why you joined us, but you did not come all this way across Faerun to stalk one unimportant Wychlaran girl on her worldly enlightenment journey. That kind of mission would be beneath your talents.} The Red Wizard stiffened but did not look up from his book. {So whatever you are doing, keep doing it. Keep using us. Whatever it is you need us for. Stay with us.}

Odesseiron looked at her slowly from the corner of his eye, distrustful but curious. Imoen knew she had to continue talking first, now, before he imagined the reason behind her words for himself and ruined the impact. He needed to hear the words from her; not in his own head. But she drew out the moment just a longer than was safe.

Then Imoen smirked, and delivered her big reveal. {Dynaheir knows Invisibility. I did not come to you because she lacked it. I came to you because I needed the best or it would wear off halfway over the bridge. And you, Edwin Odesseiron, are the best. }

The mighty, elusive peacock dragon straightened up a little bit, taking the complements this time with some introspection and grace and significantly more vanity than he deserved. She didn't laugh at him, letting him have his moment of feeling powerful, indispensable, and above all else needed. He took the bait hook, line, and sinker; swallowed it whole for the very first time; and found it surprisingly palatable. {Well, I suppose you chimps at least are making progress when every other band of fools to attempt this venture has ended up painting the mine floors scarlet or servicing a half orc.}

Imoen just smiled, reaffirming his glory. At last! The first grappling hook of friendship had successfully caught hold!

After a moment she looked up as Montaron approached her to re-bandage her leg. He glanced at the wizard irritably and then knelt, pulling back the previous bandages to assess the wound. It needed to be washed out, and he decided he'd apply another healing potion rather than risk an infection by morning. "Yer an idiot, Pink," is all the grumpy halfling said. "Hold still and don't fuss, and maybe I won't have ta hamstring ye in an effort to keep ye put."

Chapter Text

"I made these for you!"

Xan was starting to get used to Xzar. Not because the other was somehow growing on him or becoming less disturbing; no, Xan wagered the reason was that he was becoming desensitized to the madman. Which, he supposed, was how the rest of the party managed to tolerate the fact they were traveling with a death-loving harlequin with a cracked mind and a tendency to shriek much like a woman at the topic of his lungs when startled or anxious.

"Is the madman bothering you?" Branwen asked Xan.

"Well yes," the elf sighed, "but not so badly as I would want him to be discouraged or harmed. What have you made, Xzar?"

The necromancer smiled, and then extended to him a few scrolls and sheets of paper. Xan blinked and took them, unrolling the first scroll "What is it?" He blinked in surprise. Sleep? A sleep spell!

"Well, you haven't your spellbook," Xzar answered. "At first I thought you could use the wands; but then I remembered you said you are an enchanter? And all we have is a wand of Magic Missiles and another of Lightning; both invocations. It might take longer, but I think with these and spare paper, you can scribe the spells in your own manner and then use them to prepare in the normal wizarding sense? Yes? A spell pamphlet should suffice for now!"

Edwin was amused by the irony that Xzar was sharing portions of a spellbook Edwin was about to manipulate an overly friendly and ridiculous thief into stealing. Alas, his job would have been made easier if only he required a sleep spell, some mage armor, or-

"Luck," Xan pronounced the name of the last spell. "Where did you get Luck? This is not a common spell."

"Get... luck...?" Xzar asked, as if surprised. He scratched his cheek thoughtfully. "I have absolutely no idea. Wait, perhaps I do. Somewhere just off the Lion's Way, when I met the lady in red before the old man. And maybe later in the inn? I did wake up with Death on me. I don't think any earlier. I remember- Oh!" Xzar looked at Aegis, surprised. He giggled abruptly, as if remember something. "So that's what happened. Four cups of mead and a Luck yields luck in finding Death. Uppercase lowercase uppercase, of course."

"You are incredibly mad, aren't you?"

The necromancer looked back at Xan. "Yes. Most assuredly. But, as to the scroll! I supposed if anyone should help distribute luck, it should be the person who otherwise foresees our doom. Poetic, hmm? Actually, would you mind casting some on Eegee later? She seems to have developed a bad habit of walking into ghouls..." Then he clapped happily and hopped over to bother Aegis.

Xan watched the necromancer go. He looked at the scroll, up to the cleric at his side, and then back to the scroll. "I will admit to a certain amount of internal conflict over exactly how I feel about this," Xan admitted at last to Branwen. "Disgust? Endearment? Thanks? Confusion? Most certainly confusion..." The woman laughed.

"The man is most likely a Zhent," Jaheira said, coming up beside them. "Be careful, friend. He can be vicious. His specialty is necromancy and he has shown himself to have a grotesque interest in anatomy and all form of unsavory spell component and item of study. I would not trust him near your person if I were you."

"Well," Xan sighed, "it must be nice to have your convictions. But we can't all live in black and white worlds." Jaheira glanced at him worriedly, sensing the elf's great and omnipresent melancholy.

"I did not mean offense," she said politely.

"You caused none. For what it's worth, I meant none either." The druid nodded and moved off to continue preparing.

"Have you gotten past the 'confusion' phase then?" Branwen asked curiously, biting off a chunk of jerky and offering him the remainder.

Xan glanced at the offered meat and shook his head. "I don't eat meat. If... if I can help it," he added. "But thank you. As to your question? Yes, I have gotten past confusion. I am at dread. Incredible dread; though I accept that as par for the course on this endeavor."

"Dread?" the Norheim woman laughed. "Why dread?"

"Because I believe the only thing for me to do is to be friendly back, regardless of the high potential for the disaster. I do like my organs in all their requisite locations... And I imagine after a few more conversations like that, my sanity might begin eluding me. Alas; what kindness invokes..."

"Well," Branwen said, chewing up and swallowing another bite of jerky, "nothing will get past me to harm you that can be stopped by a hammer. So maybe you should just concentrate on preserving your mental soundness?"

Xan glanced up at her. He allowed himself a meek smile. Branwen's attention had him slightly unsettled. To be honest, even though she was far more pleasant to speak with, her presence made him more nervous than Xzar's did. "I hope that offer of aid was just the spirit of friendship speaking," he said, "And not... well, that is to say..."

"No," Branwen told him firmly. "You are no warrior, and I am not interested. You are too short, you weigh about as much as my left leg, I cannot imagine you can lift a weapon much heavier than a feather, and you are completely lacking in anything even remotely resembling strength or stamina. To be frank, I am not entirely clear on what you are going to add to the upcoming battle. But, wizards always surprise me. I think you must have a stronger spirit than you realize; and I shall be happy to provide you the opportunity to aid in the next battle. "

"Well..." Xan felt considerably relieved. "I think I should say I am glad to have your vote of confidence, even if I myself expect to contribute nothing of value."

Garrick sighed miserably; but at least he hadn't lost the opportunity entirely. He'd just have to try harder.

Aegis was up with the other early risers come morning. She yawned heavily, sitting up slowly and glancing down at where Xzar was nestled up against her. An affectionate smile worked across her face, and she reached down to stroke through his hair. He shifted slightly in his sleep, bundling up closer to her warmth. Madman, you've bewitched me, she thought, amused. There is no way anyone else could look at that face and think how innocent you look while you're sleeping. Her smile faded slightly. One day I'm going to walk smack into a lot of things about you I've been otherwise happy to overlook.

"Are you lovers?" came a low but somewhat curious voice. Aegis lifted her head in surprise, blinking into the dim lighting before she recognized Xan was awake. He was sitting atop his cloak with his legs hugged against himself, watching her quietly.

"Something like that," Aegis offered slowly, counting on her fingertips. Five. She had only made love with the necromancer a sum of five times, but he had been sharing a sleeping palette with her since Beregost. Under that light, the two of them had been lovers for the majority of Aegis's life outside Candlekeep. "It's a little complicated."

"How did it begin?"

"With an accident," Aegis replied wryly, "involving alcohol. But don't tell Jaheira and Khalid that."

"Then... you had the misfortune of waking up on top of a self-proclaimed necromancer who is covered in ghastly facial tattoos and... decided to go forward with courting him?" Xan's voice conveyed his bafflement. "Forgive me my puzzlement; it sounds doomed from the start. What interested could either of you have had in each other?"

"You know," Aegis tilted her head to the side, "I don't think I've gotten that question very often. Not in earnest, anyway. Everyone's so opinionated on the manner, but I just like him. The bigger mystery is probably why the devil Xzar voluntarily sleeps with me. He was very much averse to touch when we met..." Actually, could that have anything to do with why he's fussing over Xan? Empathy of some kind?

Xan's voice brought her back to the present. "I confess it resembles a lioness playing mother to a demented hyena. I am not certain which side is more likely to experience imminent disaster, but from this angle the prognosis is hardly pleasant."

"You think I like Xzar because I like nurturing someone, and because he acts childishly?" she thought about the accusation. "I suspect cohabitation with any wizard means looking out for them. Wizards are workaholics, absent-minded, and bad at personal maintenance. I could write a book on the topic; I'd call it Caring for Your Wizard: A Guide for Roommates, Family Members, and Love Interests."

Xan lifted a brow. "I am not certain your experiences with a person of questionable sanity should be generalized to such a broad categorization of highly varied individuals."

"Xan. I was raised by a wizard. In Candlekeep. Surrounded by wizards. Do you have any idea how many misplaced books I tracked down; how many times I brought father a three-in-the-morning snack because he was burning the candles at both ends; how many of my tutors forgot to bathe, comb, or change their clothes for weeks on end because they were tracking down some mystery or another?"

The elf considered this. "That... does remind me of someone," he admitted a little bashfully.

Aegis smiled, running her hand over the necromancer's shoulder and sparing him a tender look. "Xzar is admittedly a disaster on that front, but that doesn't make him my pet." And you haven't seen him when he's serpentine, dripping poison and feeding me dark tidbits of his history. Or my own.

"You consider him your equal," the elf realized, surprised, "in spite of his madness?"

"Xzar's about fifteen years older than me. I was raised in a library. You and perhaps the rest of the party are understandably misjudging who's been doing the bulk of looking after who." Xan frowned, tilting his head to the side and waiting for an elaboration. "Xzar's had my back almost since I met him. He's been there to pull me out of more ambushes than I could count. Now of course he's incredibly eccentric and plagued by fits; but underneath that is a terrifying intellect. It just isn't obvious unless he's calm." Though the more he's around me, the more it appears like he might be getting calmer...

"And you... find something attractive about that?" the elf hazarded out in bewilderment, a little disturbed that anyone could find 'terrifying' a complement. "Enough to endear you to him when he's addled?"

Aegis looked down at the slender necromancer. "I don't mind that he's bizarre. I find it.. playful. Bantering with my madman is a therapeutic pleasure."

The enchanter considered this.

"I guess there is one other reason I'm with him. Not that I have much basis for comparison... But the physical component has been far from disappointing."

Xan winced and looked away.

Aegis noticed the elf's distress and looked up at him. A frown spread over her mouth. She wasn't the world's best wordsmith, but she wagered opening up a conversation by asking the elf what had happened to him wouldn't have been a good move. "Were you always this bleak?"

"Oh? So I should be bright and merry and chipper all because I've been sprung from that dismal vault?" Xan sneered.

"Don't put words in my mouth, bright eyes, I'm not blaming you for not being happy. Or normal. Or whatever. I'm the one sleeping with a crazy person; my tolerance for varied mental depositions is broad."

Xan settled almost apologetically. "This place could sink even the grimmest spirits lower. But in truth this 'adventure' has merely reaffirmed my existing understanding of the world: That it is vast, and to it we and our needs are unimportant."

Aegis was quiet for a moment. "Not you," she answered at last. "You lived. The world bent over backwards to make sure you lived."

Xan cringed. "I would rather it not have," the elf said in a very quiet voice.

"That's not true," Aegis said with the casual tone not of dismissal but of knowing.

"You believe you can speak towards my most personal thoughts?" Xan was ruffled and distressed. "And what do you know of fair folk?"

A pause. "I can always tell when people actually do want to die," Aegis answered in a very strange, slightly strangled voice. "More likely, you just haven't any idea how to go forward. You'll figure it out. You have time, now."

Xan looked her up and down with a frown. "Assuming we succeed."

"Well," Branwen said with a very big yawn and an even bigger stretch. She heaved herself up to a sitting position nearby, having just overheard the tail end of their conversation. "I think your first order of business upon reaching the surface should be incredibly clear: You need to gain thirty pounds."

Xan lifted a brow. "I look that displeasing to you, do I?" There was a note—just a note!—of humor in the elf's voice.

"How much are you supposed to weigh? I don't know elves, but you look like something which washed up in the driftwood and flotsam and then baked in the sun under a coat of seaweed for a few days. Fifteen pounds to gain then! Not an ounce less!"

Her blunt, colorful phrasing was somehow rejuvenating. It was a sharp contrast to everyone tip-toeing around him.

Xzar stirred slightly and then smiled to himself, groggily reaching out to put an arm around Aegis's waist. "Good morning, Little Death," he muttered quietly into her thigh. She thought it was well enough no one else heard him; she reasoned Jaheira wouldn't be fond of the pet name. She didn't see Xan glance her way, and neglected to realize Xzar had been showering her in similar epitaphs the day before, just in different languages.

"Not 'Eegee'?" she teased. It really was a terrible diminution, taking 'Aegy' one step farther by twisting the smooth 'j' sound into a gargled 'g.'

"No," the necromancer sighed thoughtfully, evidently enjoying a few droplets of sanity that morning. "But give it a minute; You'll be 'Eegee' soon enough for everyone, I think."

Their new enchanter tilted his head to the side.

Aegis would probably never know what voodoo Imoen had used to put Edwin into a compliant mood, but the wizard had a drastically altered temperament by morning. That was not to say he was polite to anyone, or that he did not mutter insults under his breath; but the bite of hostility was gone from his actions.

"I have a proposal. Should you accept, I will bind myself to following your (admittedly questionable) authority while this miserable party lasts," Edwin told her. "I reserve the right to terminate this agreement as I please and for whatever reason; In exchange, I agree to give you forty-eight hours notice in advance of this termination and before taking any action counter to you or yours. Does that satisfy you?"

Jaheira, Khalid, and Branwen all gaped and shared bewildered looks with one another. Aegis was also surprised. "You'll keep your word?" the ranger asked.

Edwin scowled, bristling slightly. "One does not have to believe in karma to understand the necessity for structure and order for the success of any organized endeavor. I shall keep my word to the letter."

Aegis knew it was best not to shoot Imoen a baffled look while talking to Edwin. She instead held his gaze for a long moment and then nodded. "I believe you."

He seemed to settle down at that. "Very good then. Might I suggest we have a cleric to kill?" He smirked to himself and turned away, heading up to wait impatiently by the entrance and muttering things to himself like: "As if they had any chance in this upcoming fight without my skills. It seems the chimp really can make an intelligent decision once in a blue moon."

"I'm ready!" Xzar exclaimed happily, leaping up from where he had been resting. "Carry me into battle trusty steed!" He flung himself at Aegis, who very distinctly 'oofed' and then laughed.

"Not on your life, wizard," she told him, and then when he wouldn't get off of her she tickled him until he was shrieking hysterically with laughter. The rest of the party was not impressed, but Aegis herself was quite amused.

"That's quite the death trap in there," Jaheira muttered, healing up burns Khalid had sustain across his arm in a kobold ambush leading up to the cave. The half-elfin man was doing his best to hold in his feelings about the injury, but Aegis watched his feet squirm and his eyelids crease as if he were holding back quite the whimpers of discomfort. She couldn't help but feel (not for the first time) that Khalid was adorable.

"We can defeat them," Branwen insisted passionately, grinning out at the hoards of kobolds. "Let us rush forth and show them our might and steel!"

Xan gave her an uncomfortable look. "Do you have any idea how utterly doomed to catastrophic and irreversible failure that plan is?"

"We could use the bard as a distraction," Xzar proposed.

"Why does he hate me so?" Garrick sighed, loading his crossbow. "What did I ever do to him?"

"You stole my dirt. Or don't you remember?"

The bard sighed again, looking over at Branwen longingly.

"Maybe we try something a little than running in shaking weapons over our heads and bellowing loudly," Jaheira muttered, "given that we must conserve strength for the cleric himself." 

Aegis shot a glance Minsc's way. "We can try our usual plan," the ranger woman suggested, "using shield bearers to try and protect the mages while we get them in close."

A few feet away, Edwin was stroking his beard, contemplating the layout of the caverns ahead of them. He was quiet for a bit, gathering his analysis and running through a number of options. He glanced to the side when he felt Imoen's tug on his elbow; she was too quiet to perceive otherwise. "You got an idea?" the she asked, coming up alongside him to peer out over the rocks.

"It's a matter of dividing up the work," the Red Wizard explained. "We can rely on the sleep and fear spells to limit what we need to handle at one time, but the problem lies in how far back their best archers are positioned. Once we step into that room, we have no cover from them. And they've shown they're clever enough to snipe unarmored targets. (Though let us not give them too much credit; they're still yipping mongrels.)"

"The layout's a problem too," Imoen agreed. "The water means you need good range on whatever you use, they've got a clear line of sight for their arrows, and the way they're splayed out means neither of yours nor Dynaheir's favorite invocations for this kind of work—Fireball or Lightning Bolt—is going to be able to hit a large number of targets."

"Unless we take action to cluster them together. Do you remember when the kobolds downed the Wychlaran on the first day of these wretched mines? How your dear meatshield of a sister managed to pull attention off of us?"

"Your Protection From Arrows!" Imoen caught on. "If you cast it on Aegis and send her charging in, we know from experience the kobolds will focus down a lone target! That should group up half of them and distract the archers just fine, only they won't be able to actually hurt her!"

"Ah, finally. Someone who can occasionally follow an idea through to its sanest extrapolation."

"Been here the whole time, silly head, you just never noticed me before. So, we can throw all our protective magics on her," Imoen continued.

"And I can direct our kill shots in mincing up the kobolds on the inner island. Those other fools we call wizards can apply their sleep and horror spells to the area immediately ahead of Aegis. That should keep her moving forward and looking like the most high-profile target. Meanwhile the rest of the party can busy themselves with cleanup on the afflicted kobolds."

"Got it. Let me be the ones to explain it to the others so they don't get all troubled up to their halos about the fact that you thought of it. I'll still credit you at the end, though. Best they know who saved their asses from running in with might and steel! Um, Edwin, it will work, right?"

"What?"

"Well... The spells. Sending my sister out there... ya know... into what otherwise would be certain death..."

Edwin just grinned at her.

"Montaron, I do not approve of this plan! Not at all! Please stab the Red Wizard for me, will you?"

"Oi, now he asks me... Shut up ye fool wizard; it's too late for summat of that ilk."

Xzar was ramrod straight, looking like he might wet himself he was so antsy. He wiggled in place for a moment and then suddenly came forward and grabbed at Aegis's armor, turning the surprised ranger about. "Do not do it!" he protested, cutting off her confused questions. "Sod the nasty Thayvian! If the spells fail, you will die. No, no, no. Tell the nasty hamster man to do it."

"Excuse me?" Dynaheir muttered indignantly. "Doest thou mean to suggest thou considers him expendable? Minsc is carrying a two-handed sword! He has no shield should things go wrong! What life can be said to be worth any other?"

Edwin muttered "Mine: it's worth all of yours and then some." Imoen gave him a shove.

Xzar hissed at them. "Then come up with a better plan!" he demanded. He had heard the plan, he had understood it, and he did not like it. The goal was to cast abjurations on Aegis and then field her as a big moving target to draw kobold fire. In other words, she was doing the job he'd rather have given to the bard. In an emergency she'd be leagues away from the party, with no escape mechanism, getting pin-cushioned by a hundred yipping bowmen.

"Wizard, come on," Aegis grasped his shoulders. "This is a good plan and you know it. What's up?" He writhed in her hold, staring into her face uncertainly for a moment. Then he pushed closer to her, wrapping his arms around her shoulder and back.

"If you die I can't do anything," he muttered unhappily into her hair, his fingers clenching against the fabric of her armor and his voice lowering in pitch and volume. "Not even bring you back as a zombie. Do you understand? Do not ignore me; I am not raving!"

"Xzar, I've done far stupider things than this," Aegis reminded him, her brows furrowing together at his chosen words. He almost sounded like he was in one of his sinister moods, like when he'd confronted her in her room at Nashkel inn.

Then all of a sudden his voice sank into a rich, low whisper. "Tell me. Do you remember what I warned you of, Little Death?"

Xzar's voice held level and consistent and Aegis's eyes widened in astonishment at his inconvenient timing. He's lucid? Now? To what degree?

His forearms tightened around her back and his fingers pushed into her hair. "If this goes wrong, there will be nothing left but dust." He took in a slow breath at her temple and continued: "We are fighting a Cyrite cleric. Please reconsider."

Lucid Xzars usually didn't happen while clothing was involved. Uncertain what to do with a sane necromancer in the middle of an expectant party, Aegis was momentarily torn. Then she realized soothing Xzar had to be a higher priority than looking untouchable; she was his lover and he'd only have so many moments of focus. She eased both arms around the tall man's slender frame, pulling him tightly into herself. When he twitched slightly at Jaheira's irritated hiss, she gave him a squeeze. "Ignore them. I'm listening. What's eating you?"

"I do not want you out there where I cannot... cannot help you..." the necromancer confessed bitterly. "Last night I watched an unhappened future; one eschewed by nothing more than a whim of Tymora's; a future in which you died while paralyzed and bitten." It was difficult whether he meant he'd seen such a thing through divination, dream, or imagination. Either way his fingers grasped and caressed as if to hold on even tighter. "I did not enjoy the sight."

"I'm going to be fine," Aegis told him, though she would have confessed bewilderment at his intense concern. Her typical assessment of Xzar was of course that he was morbid. The notion that he could hit clarity as a result of worrying over her safety was new. And bizarrely flattering. "You know the kind of fighter I am; I'm going to wreck havoc out there!"

"You don't know that. Do not do this." He lifted pale green eyes from where his face was buried in her hair, looking out into the caverns. "I smell another stinking abomination of Death out there, Little Death. It will find you. And I won't be there."

"Xzar... I... Have faith in me."

The reaction Aegis received from him was not the one she expected. She felt every muscle in his necromancer's tense up painfully stiff, as if she'd just electrocuted him. His heart rate doubled in pace and he shuddered violently. Aegis squeezed him to herself, startled by his alarm.

"What's wrong?" she asked worriedly before he cut her off:

"Dii... Dii lokal... zu'u lahspaan hi nol Vokulhah Dinok," he whispered heavily, and she felt the familiar tingle of protective energy settle around her. Protection from Evil. He'd yielded.

The necromancer backed up a step and looked down at her with a very focused, serious, intense expression on his features. Green eyes searched her countenance for a moment and she stared, fascinated, back at him, waiting to see what he would do. He was certainly surprising her left and right at the moment.

"Do not die, Byatshkan Moratuk," he told her in a level and solemn voice, loud enough for anyone to overhear. His tone did not waver, neither to lift into manic hysteria nor to drip into languid goading. It was a solid low tenor, and attracted more attention than he could have with the loudest temper tantrum. Then he took her head carefully in both palms and kissed her, and the embrace was fierce and needing.

When Xzar stepped backwards she shook her head in bewilderment at her unfathomable lover and then turned to look at the rest of the party.

"Well," said Edwin, because Jaheira was too busy glaring daggers at the Zhent, "that was interesting. Now can we get back to, (oh I don't know) maybe, the giant battle ahead of us? Anyone? (Am I alone in this or are we missing a fight here?)"

"I'm ready," Aegis agreed. "Cast your spells, I'm going to hit those stupid dogs like a whirlwind."

Jaheira muttered something in elfish under her breath and then moved to take up a position around Aegis. Branwen and Dynaheir (the latter glancing uncertainly at Xzar) did likewise. Xan and Edwin took up the final spots.

"We best hope their cleric does not step out to assist," Jaheira muttered. "One single dispel and we will have an incredibly dead neice to thank Edwin for."

"One cleric against four wizards?" Edwin smirked. "I like our odds. Elf, you know this enemy best, don't you? And aren't you mostly useless without a spellbook or invocation magic anyway? Good! That can be your job: Counterspelling your dear old half-orc friend for us."

Xan sighed, but did not rise to the bait.

Xzar watched quietly as they all began to cast, and then lifted a hand to his temple as thoughts and frustrations and spirals and curling threads bubbled up in his mind. As Draconic, Drudic, and Waelan filled the air, Montaron slipped up beside the necromancer and jabbed him to get his attention. The halfling gave him a pointed look. Xzar sneered.

"Careful, wizard," the thief muttered.

"I should say the same to you, tiny dumpling man," Xzar hissed, falling away from clarity. "Mark this sooth; in seven minus two ends, you will not-stab yourself in the breast."

"That a threat?" the halfling smirked.

"I see the gilded fuchsias too, you know, such pretty flowers in the dust and blood; I can trail them that far!"

"Didn't think so."

Jaheira applied Barkskin; Branwen, Bless; Edwin, Protection from Arrows; Dynaheir, Haste; and Xan, Luck. As their spells completed in concert, Aegis felt positively aglow with magical energy. The ranger glanced at her fingertips and then gave a broad grin and gave her axe a little twirl, hoisting her shield up from the ground.

"Heh. This is gonna be fun. Now?"

Jaheira nodded. The Ranger sucked in an exultant breath, excitement reverberating through her. She dashed out into the larger cavern space, and loosed a battle cry to get the kobolds to focus her. As she charged headlong into yipping enemies body, the first wave of arrows flew past her as harmlessly as a summer breeze. She blocked with her shield as she hit them, and tiny red-skinned bodies went bouncing off in all directions. It was glorious. She brought down the first hack of her axe with glee.

"Get ready!" Jaheira hissed as a chorus of yips and bowstrings rippled ahead of them.

Minsc gave the signal and then he and Khalid pushed out into the cave with the wizards slinging out charms and flames from behind them. To the side of them, Aegis was sending beautiful, hot sprays of blood flying in arcs. Imoen rolled to the side, keeping low and aiming swiftly for the kobold commandos. Edwin and Dynaheir sent their first invocations slamming through the densest groupings of their enemy on the central island, while Xan and Xzar attempted more utilitarian crowd control on the kobolds facing Aegis.

Xzar's eyes were not sharp enough to catch the glorious expression of zealous fervor on Aegis's face, but he felt it. Khalid's vision was better and he faltered momentarily, shaken as he recalled Xzar's strange words to him the evening before. Ask her if she feels anger, satisfaction, or mania.

Chapter Text

"Everyone! Positions!"

Khalid, Branwen, and Minsc formed a barrier to keep the mages unappetizing, the former with shields, the latter with size. Minsc remained in front; if something happened to Aegis, or if the plan changed for any reason, he and Jaheira would be the ones rescuing her. Khalid and Branwen were at the rear. Montaron ghosted ahead of all of them, using the chaos of the fight to creep up behind their valiant leader. He was a safety measure and he wasn't quite sure he was happy with that, but at least it was keeping him shielded from arrows for the time being.

The kobolds had bunched up on the inner island, and their flaming arrows whistled past Aegis in hot shrieks.

"Mine!" Dynaheir claimed a target. Because she had the better range, Edwin sneered at her but permitted the shot. She stepped out to Khalid's side, her eyelashes fluttering rapidly as energy coursed through and around her arms. Then with a gesture more befitting a monk than a spellcaster, the Wychlaran smoothly directed the energy, twisted her wrists, and lifted her arms up as if around the shape of an invisible lance. The lightning bolt exploded tremendously out forward and backwards through her contorted grasp, a long snake of blue-white power. The explosive force sent charred kobold bodies flying through the air. Some dropped into the water; others smashed up against the cavern.

That got some enemy attention, but with Aegis forcing her way past dozens of startled kobolds, making rapid progress around the circumference of the large cavern and cutting aside any adversary that stood in her way, the commandos weren't sure what was the bigger problem. As the little red devils stumbled out of the way, drawing short swords or else twisting about to try and delay her advance with arrows, a wave of Horror fell over them courtesy of Xzar.

Some of the commandos had turned towards the wizards and, though it was somewhat beneath him to play cleanup to Dynaheir's lightning bolts, Edwin contented himself with picking off a number off these nuisances with a torrent of magic missiles. "To the right!" he hissed to Imoen, who retorted with, "got it!" and sent her next arrow flying straight into a surviving and adjacent commando before he could harass the party.

"Move forward!" Jaheira ordered, trying to keep reasonably close behind Aegis while at the same time letting her be their shield.

Ah, a 'shield.' Xzar, in any other situation would have appreciate the irony.

Minsc's sweeping cuts were bisecting or otherwise tossing aside any Kobolds that got behind Aegis. Jaheira bashed through frightened kobold brains. Khalid served as a second line of defense for both. They together formed the front of the party. Xan, Xzar, and Branwen comprised the middle.

Here and there, a kobold had resisted the Horror spell. Xan selectively picked them off with Sleep spell. The necromancer accompanied Xan, humming the words of a chill touch to himself. No neck immediately presented itself for him to throttle. Xzar caught himself contemplating the half-elf druid's slender throat. Ah, how lovely that would be!

"You aren't... thinking what it looks like you're thinking... are you?" Xan asked with a note of complaint. Jaheira glanced at them. Xzar laughed.

"Of course I am!" the necromancer told them both honestly. "But ideating is not doing, now is it?" Then his eyes lit up in delight as one of the kobolds struggled back out of the lake to engage them. He slipped past their druid and the creature's clumsy sword thrust, and he grabbed it's face bare-handed, fingers digging into its eye-sockets. All liquid and vapor froze in and around its skull and its skin blistered and crackled. It's jaw fell slack. Xan cringed slightly.

"Must everything with you be so dramatic?"

"Keep your eye on the interior cavern's mouth, fools!" Edwin shouted ahead to them while ducking under an oncoming arrow and hurrying to keep pace with Khalid and Branwen. "If that cleric surfaces, you two have the most consistent view!"

Aegis was lost in a song; her axe swirled to its irregular beat. The pace was dissonant; jarring; beautiful. Graceful sighs; guttural slams; slow, fast, abrupt, smooth, forte, shield bash! She could barely identify where she was or what she was doing; she was nothing but motion. Fresh scarlet blood flew in wide arcs around her, and she retained possession of the shield only because she was using it to bash open just as many kobolds.

Imoen kept at a steady walk, eyes trained on the island in the middle of the lake. She drew a bead on another kobold who had turned to shoot at the mages. She loosed and received a very satisfying yip in exchange.

Garrick had found a rhythm for utilizing his crossbow rapidly while on the move, stopping only momentarily to execute the step and pull. Within three shots he had it nailed to a science. The bard had just loaded a bolt and lifted his gaze back to the enemy when he saw something pale and gray-skinned far up on Aegis's right, climbing slowly out of the lake. Time to pay back a seriously important debt! He kept aim, measuring his distance as the hostile shape slowly rose to its feet, and then pulled back on the trigger.

There was a ghastly wail as the crossbow bolt impaled the ghoul through the head. Aegis twisted about at the sound, and then hopped rapidly away from it as the ghoul slashed at her. Its fingers missed her by a broad margin, and then she was slashing forward and down, complementing Garrick's bolt with a few, heavy, overhanded axe blows. Xzar saw the whole thing, start to finish; he twisted about to gape incredulously at the bard, who laughed triumphantly.

"I saved your dirt!" he declared.

Aegis's last swipe dropped the ghoul into a puzzle of itself. Frantic, terrified, flailing kobolds then stole her attention back. With a shriek of joy she flung herself back into the front of the battle; a swipe from her shield sent kobold bodies flying through the air. Xzar was distracted from pouting angrily back Garrick's way and turned a curious and almost reverent gaze back to his lover. Minsc echoed her enthusiasm with a laugh. Jaheira looked too experienced with what battle lust could do to a person to read closely into her fervor.

But Khalid saw the carnage as he managed to catch another irregular dispersal of arrows against his shield. A confused and worried expression turned down the corners of his mouth. This is our dear friend's child? he wondered to himself. We sensed so much between the lines; things never spoken aloud. What was it he would have told us had he not perished that day?

More kobold commandos spilled forward from around the other side of the island. They seemed to be rallying each other, and when they next fired it was as a unit; they loosed high into the air, taking advantage of the domed cavern. "Incoming!" Imoen exclaimed.

"Mithil do yolos, kaag ahrk folul-!" Edwin hissed, red light shimmering between his long nails.

"Qomorah vith-" Dynaheir was chanting.

Branwen raised a scavenged shield, and Khalid lifted his own, each trying to get into position to protect the casters at this new angle. Branwen reflexively grabbed for Xan; Xzar backpedaled into Jaheira (who was not at all happy to be so close to him); and Khalid unfortunately only managed to get Imoen behind him, not their Wychlaran. Dynaheir had been casting Lightning Bolt. Doing so had required a certain clearance from her party members, lest they accidentally end up caught in its unpredictable flow.

A shelf of arrows fell like rain. Two ricocheted around Dynaheir, and by the telltale blue glow around her she was being defended by Mage Armor and perhaps the Shield spell. A third arrow hit her hard, and she lost her spell with an exclamation of pain and frustration. For the second time in three days, she'd been felled by the same damn thing.

Edwin had been an instant faster and his choice in spell did not require a perfectly clear line of vision or any especial clearance, so he still had the shields and bodies of other party to rely on. His red-hot bead of energy rocketed out over their wall of shields and plummeted down into the tightly nestled collection of archers. When it touched down, it rippled outward in a large orb of flame and sent a wave of heat flooding briefly across the chamber. An arrow scored open the Red Wizard's robes and damaged his bracer; comparatively speaking, he was unharmed.

"Dynaheir!" Minsc cried, abandoning his place at the from of the party to rush to her side.

"Bloody fool!" the Red Wizard snarled. "We need order, not dramatics!"

"Something is coming!" Xzar chattered as the party folded momentarily back on itself. Then abruptly he grabbed Xan's arm, nearly disrupting the elf's next sleep spell. The enchanter squeaked in surprise as he wrestled the magic back under his control and quickly shot a look at Xzar. "The cleric!" their madman warned.

"Gods we're doomed," Xan sighed as Mulahey exited the central cavern, sneering visage taking in all the chaos and disorder. The smell of roasted kobold flesh was bad enough to gag on. Shielded in part by his positioning, and by the kobolds surging around him, Mulahey was too far away for anyone but perhaps Dynaheir to have easily hit, and she was currently gasping past an inconvenient arrow in her lung. Xan saw Mulahey gaze rove a minute before it finally alighted on Aegis. One did not require an especially acute intellect to notice how arrows all seemed to be veering around her.

Xan abandoned the sleep spell that he might try and counterspell instead. He was wondering if his efforts would be enough to overcome Mulahey. Xzar must have seen his trepidation, because the necromancer began to work in sync with him. Unfortunately, a fire arrow skimmed across them, missing Xan by a hairsbreadth and sinking into Xzar's robe sleeve, which it immediately set ablaze. The latter yelped and lost his focus.

"Garrick!" Jaheira shouted. "Use your lute to signal her, as per the plan! I'm going to join her ahead of you!" She bolted past dazed and frightened kobolds.

Aegis's song was interrupted by the partially savaged remains of dispel bursting across her armor, the waves sucking at her with a tingle as numerous magical protections were peeled back. Almost simultaneously, surreal music echoed loudly—much too loudly—around in the confines of her skull. She staggered slightly to the side, swiped a lunging kobold to the side, and then looked around confused for what had happened. Bardsong. The situation had changed.

Jaheir was there. She grabbed hold of her arm and yanked. Aegis stumbled to the side just as two arrows whipped past within inches of her face, and no Protection from Arrows spell diverted them. She threw up her shield arm almost reflexively, catching another volley and kneeling down to better cover herself as Montaron took the opportunity to stab an attempted flanking attempt.

"Mont-" Aegis sputtered dazedly.

"Shield!" he warned, and she lifted it up to catch another arrow.

Minsc had gotten Dynaheir to Branwen. Khalid had traded positions with him guard the front of the party, which meant fewer shields for the rear.

"You had one job!" Edwin was shouting over the battle, presumably at their enchanter. "One job! 'Counterspell the cleric!' See if the necromancer is still as disinterested in your spleen and eyes if your failure ends up killing his brightbird!"

Xzar scrambled back to Xan's side after having doused himself with lake water. "For what it's worth," he reassured Xan in a languid voice, "I have no plan to harvest your organs unless you find yourself no longer having need for them. Him, on the other hand..."

"Oh that's lovely," Xan moaned. "But his point is made! In these conditions we can't track Mulahey well enough to predict him!"

"Pish, posh, you still have better vision in this lighting then me."

Xan was not ready to be cheered: "We'd need invoker and conjurer both to help catch the next spell, and—what is he-?—Xzar, Mulahey is not casting a normal spell."

"What do you see?" 

"He has a rod in hand and he's chanting; he looks ready to break it. I can't make out the words."

Xzar considered all the possibilities. Then his eyes glazed slightly as if he were sensing something. He hissed suddenly in recognition and then turned away to pounce upon the ghoul body from earlier.

"Wait! What did you realize!?" the enchanter called.

"Problem!" Xzar answered. "Half-elf," he called to Khalid, "help me!"

"W-what!?" Khalid exclaimed, whirling to look at the necromancer as Edwin pushed past him to loose another fireball as far as his range would permit onto the island.

Edwin barely managed to clear the entire necessary distance. The flames exploded outward, gobbling up new kobold archers; but when the flash cleared the cleric still remained there, unburnt, untouched. Edwin cursed in Mulhourandi because he'd failed to consider an important variable: they were not the only ones who had taken time to apply layers of abjurations. Mulahey had taken his sweet time in joining the kobolds because he'd been preparing.

And Edwin had clearly underestimated just how many preparations a paranoid Cyrite could have stockpiled in this place! While the group had been burning through kobold bodies, the half orc had been applying layers of protection scrolls!

"Try acid!" Imoen suggested to him when another of her arrows bounced harmlessly off Mulahey's armor. "It's less commonly used; he's probably warded against fire and lightning because those are the spells he could hear going off from inside!"

"Find something more productive to do with your time than lecture a Red Wizard of Thay on spellcasting!"

Xan still looked shaken by his failure to counterspell. He had only just been liberated from endless torture. His body was still not well. His cyan gaze darted back to the sight of whatever Mulahey was doing, and he couldn't help but feel cold and numb in response to the sight. He wavered for a moment, before gritting his teeth and touching slender fingertips to his brow. He felt strands of magic reaching out through the weave around him. "Energy," he muttered rapidly. "Non-elemental, wide dispersal, rapid wave, channels-" his fingers moved rapidly as if to feel the currents of magic beneath them, "-multiple subjects, negative-"

Xzar looked up at Khalid, holding the ghoul's up out of the water by the roots of hair like seaweed. "Cut off the head for me! As a spell component!"

Khalid cringed. "A-absolutely n-not!" he said as loudly and forcefully as his stutter would allow, disturbed by the morbid request.

"You can cut it off and I can help them now—" another stray arrow grazed Xzar's shoulder— "Or I can saw it off with my belt knife and we can hope everyone lives long enough that I'm able to help them later! Your choice, goody-goody!"

Xan had realized what was about to happen. He cast a horrified glance all around them, at the mounds of bodies. "Branwen!" he exclaimed in pure certainty, twisting about to find her. "Branwen, you must turn undead!"

With a boom that stole all lingering heat from the air, a cold shriek rippled across the cavern. It was so horrible and ghastly that the party sensed it not with their ears but in their bones.

Branwen looked to Xan in surprise. "Turn undead immediately!" the elf demanded, not even flinching as an arrow passed within inches of his head.

The Northeim woman stood from where she'd been tending Dynaheir and lifted her hand high. With a shout to Tempus, she summoned her glowing blue hammer and then focused upon it with all her religious fervor. Kobold bodies wriggled around them most unpleasantly, their limbs flopping and jerking. Every last remaining corpse in the cavern began to rise. But in a small nova around where Branwen was standing, they suddenly burst into dust clouds with loud, dry pops.

Wishing he had time to wipe his sword of the strange defilement he'd just taken part in, Khalid's thoughts were understandably interrupted by the sea of kobold bodies clambering to its feet between him and the forward group. "J-jaheira..." he whispered. Then he glanced quickly to Xzar, who was standing and muttering in Draconic.

Morbidity upon morbidity! The ghoul's head Xzar was holding rapidly sloughed off flesh and muscle. The softer tissues rotted free in huge chunks, till instants later the skull was bare. Xzar whispered to it maddeningly, running a caress over the domed forehead and then tracing out a sigil that momentarily glowed green. Then the necromancer looked over at Khalid's disgusted face and very specifically offered him the skull.

"Throw it for me," Xzar told him.

"What?"

"You are stronger, and uninjured. If it lands within thirty feet of anyone, they will die. Land it between us and Aegis." That was partially the truth. Partially, Xzar found unsettling Khalid in this manner to be extraordinarily pleasurable.

"Y-you can't p-possibly expect m-me to t-touch-!"

"Then I hope you trust me not to hit your wife," the necromancer told him. Khalid was stricken. Then, as he heard Mulahey chanting some new spell, he realized just how little time they truly had to act. It was time to shelve all personal feelings.

Dynaheir unsteadily regained her feet. Edwin threw forth a streamer of acid and then gave a vicious 'Ha!' of delight when he finally scored a hit on the cleric. Mulahey didn't falter in his casting however, and didn't lose his upcoming spell. Minsc was already trying to dispatch of zombie kobolds with his two-hander. Branwen was on the move; she boomed another enthusiastic cry to Tempus, and more bodies crumbled. Xan was vain trying to make sense of Mulahey's chaotic prayers, which his ears could just pick up but which appeared to be mostly in orcish, a language Xan would not claim fluency in.

He won't try fear; the elf thought rapidly. He's bright enough to recognize the bardsong. Sleep? Charm? No, not the right threads, I'd know. Hold Person! Xan cursed, realizing he was too late. He was still weak from abuse and his wits were addled, but that was no excuse to fail the party when otherwise they could all end up doomed! It was his job to handle Mulahey! There was nothing he could do against undead, after all!

Khalid threw the skull. Thirty feet was within his normal range, although the precision with which it needed to land, mid-combat, with Jaheira's live at risk, likely contributed to an underthrow. "Back up!" he said immediately, and Xzar scrambled after him (pulling a very distracted Xan along). The skull tumbled through the air and then plummeted down into an enormous mass of kobold zombies. It hit the ground, but did not bounce. A green glow burst forth from its eyes and it levitated swiftly up into the air. It was face-to-face with a kobold zombie, and it dove forward to plummet straight into the undead monster.

There was a ghastly torrent of sound as black waves exploded out from the impact, rippling out in a range thirty feet in radius, covering a surface area nine times the size of Edwin's fireball. Zombies writhed and contorted vehemently and then the negative energy seemed to explode forward and out of their bodies, writhing up to join the shadows on the floors and walls. The bodies crinkled up and shrunk in on themselves. The skull hovered in place for a moment as everything dropped to the ground and shriveled up around it. Then the shadows sucked back in with a tense snap and the skull itself burst into a fine dust.

Xzar giggled. "Thanks for helping," he cooed to a mortified Khalid. Gone was the majority of all the kobold zombies who had stood between them and Aegis.

"Incoming!" Xan wailed as Mulahey pivoted from aiming at Aegis to instead throwing his hold person spell burst into the now tightly knit group of skull-toss escapees.

"Oh poopy-" Xzar muttered, just as he and Xan become frozen in place. Garrick had seen it coming and almost managed to escape its range, but the shimmering energy still managed to reach his feet, freezing him-mid lunge. Branwen also had been near enough to be caught. Ironically, this did not stop her from continuing to turn undead, which required little more than intense devotion and the firm presentation of her hammer, a face which likely saved them all.

Khalid had not been paralyzed. Although now, as he looked around, he realized he had four incredibly vulnerable people, unable to dodge or protect themselves, and that he now somehow had to keep each and every one of them alive for at least the next sixty seconds, perhaps longer, all on his own. "Oh. Oh Corellon Larethian be with me...! Helm be my shield arm!" 

"I've done have enough of this!" Imoen muttered, throwing down her bow in frustration and pulling out her Wand of Magic Missiles. Eyfur yol!"

Dynaheir joined in on the same idea: Magic Missiles were far from her most powerful spell; but there were no magics a cleric might know that would prevent them from striking true. As Edwin threw his next acid streamer, nearly a dozen lavender projectiles flew after it, pelting the surprised cleric across the lake. At last! They were finally hitting him!

"Keep pretending to be useful!" Edwin laughed at Imoen. "It is almost working! We cannot advance with half the party frozen in place, so we need to keep him pinned down from a range! All of you who can still move, cluster around the cleric so we need not pay attention to these bodies!"

Most of the kobold archers were dead and reanimated, trudging across the bottom of the lake to overcome them. Minsc was covering them from behind with sweeping blows from his sword severing body after body, but nevertheless slowly being overwhelmed. Edwin's plan was the soundest one they had. Ahead of them, across where the skull trap had clear the bridge of bodies, the surviving kobolds and the rest of the undead were clustered up repelling Aegis, Jaheira, and Montaron; the three of them were busy just staying alive, but also protecting anyone from sniping Branwen.

"Eyfur yol!" Imoen repeated and Dynaheir echoed with the full spell. Another volley of missiles, and another streamer of acid from Edwin crossed the lake. It was three magic users against one. Imoen crowed when she saw him stagger, lose the thread of whatever he'd been casting, and backpedaled for cover.

"By Loviatar, your pronunciation is agony on the ears!" Edwin taunted Imoen with a laugh. "Give me a moment: I will get him out of hiding with a bit of conjuration. Let us finish him now, and not merely wait about with our hands in our pockets for his spell to wear off on these inept fools!"

Edwin seized up a small pouch of spell components from his belt. By the sound of his draconic, Imoen sagered he was about to summon another Devil. She kept her wand leveled at the priest's rock in case he should make an appearance. What might Mullahey try to do next? Summon a monster of his own? Try another stunt with undead? Well whatever he did, he'd surely need line of sight to the target. Imoen could pull off a Magic Missile barrage with a wand faster than even Dynaheir! The second Mullahey showed himself, she'd blast him for sure!

Then she saw the distant gleam of something flashing around the edge of the rock. What was-? A mirror. He was using a small polished piece of silver to aim at them. Imoen's eyes widened. They had all dramatically underestimated the cleverness of a half orc.

Beside her, Edwin suddenly gave a strangled gasp. His spell faltered and his stare went glassy-eyed. Imoen looked worriedly at him as he gazed around like he'd forgotten where he was or what he was doing.

"Are you hurt?!" she demanded, worried.

"It is a charm!" Dynaheir shouted in warning. "Minsc!"

Edwin turned a slow predatory grin on Dynaheir. The Rashemi woman's eyes narrowed; her fingers rapidly going through the motions of something new, not a Lightning Bolt that would risk hitting half the party, but possibly a Scorcher spell Imoen had seen her favor in close combat. Edwin's hands and mouth began going through the steps of a Fireball.

It was a charm spell. It was a charm spell in which Mullahey had 'suggested' Edwin do something Edwin wanted very much to do anyway. 

Fuck.

"Feisty one?" Minsc whirled away from the ooze of bisected kobold bodies that were crawling after him. His brow furrowed dramatically. He lunged past Dynaheir, racing two streams of Draconic. He was going to come up short. Even in a best-case scenario, where Minsc intercepted the Fireball bead mid trajectory, they were still all going to get hit by it. The only question was whether Edwin also ended up caught in the blast radius.

Imoen tackled Edwin with all her weight (because her strength was frankly negligible). By some miracle she managed to take him clear off his feet and they toppled to the ground. The Scorcher spell exploded in a line through the air behind her as Dynaheir tried to divert the flame. Minsc skid to a halt and then clearly contemplated stomping on the Red Wizard's face, which probably would have been just as lethal as his sword. Imoen landed on top of their startled Thayvian and grabbed at his arms in an effort to keep him from casting.

"I've got him!" she shouted to both of them as she successfully managed to pull one of Edwin's arms behind him so that she could pin him with it. He snarled and writhed under her. "I've got him! Dynaheir, the cleric!"

Dynaheir stared down at Edwin for a moment. Her fingers moved, but she didn't speak. Stealing a look up at her, Imoen realized the older woman was shaking. Her eyes widened. "Dynaheir..." she said slowly. "The cleric..."

The Rashemi woman looked at her with an almost frightened expression. Dynaheir was young, Imoen knew, only a few years older than herself and Aegis. She was young, and Edwin had once boldfaced stated he planned to assassinate her, and there was every reason in the world for her to want to hurt him at that moment. But Minsc's tentative, "Fiesty one?" knocked her out of her defensive stupor. She looked around and tried to get a bearing on exactly where the cleric was.

"He cannot cast any other spells while holding the Red Wizard charmed," Dynaheir said aloud the thing Imoen had been hoping to draw her attention to. "Perhaps I can buy time for everyone to recover, then, and free the Thayvian all in one move..." Minsc remained tense, sword raised, eyeballing the disintegrating zombies Branwen was still valiantly keeping at bay. Dynaheir's fingers began fluttering through the elaborate gestures of her trade. "Viidost su voth-"

Edwin started muttering, and Imoen realized with alarm that his arms were liming up with red energy as he began to cast a Burning Hands. She scrambled to try and get control of both his limbs, but somehow he was keeping one arm tightly beneath him and managing the somatic gestures at the same time. Oh this is going to hurt-

"-sahlom!" finished Dynaheir. Out shrouding the cleric's hiding place, a small poisonous cloud erupted into being, its noxious vapors writhing and twisting like eels.

Edwin's skin had just begun to heat up, scalding and blistering Imoen's palms. Then he sputtered and twitched violently, losing the spell. Wherever the cleric was, he wasn't inclined to give up such a powerful conjurer lightly. Edwin flailed and writhed as Mulahey tried to re-focus on dominating him and maintaining control. The Thayvian's eyes rolled up in his head and he slumped, breathing heavily into the stone floor.

"Edwin?" Imoen asked with a wince, her fingertips aching like she'd grabbed a cake barehanded out of the oven. She shook his shoulders. "Edwin?"

The smell of burnt flesh had more of an impact on him then the shaking. He shuddered and blinked rapidly, his gaze coming back into alignment as he surveyed the ground around him.

"Edwin?" she called worriedly. "Are you okay?"

"I am absolutely fine, except there is an inordinately heavy fool on my back! Lay off the muffins and release me!"

Imoen gave a dramatic sigh of relief, crawling off of their dangerous conjurer as he got to his knees.

"Thayvian," Dynaheir snarled, "I have helped thee back to thy senses, but if thou turneth one spell towards me-!"

"Hush, you are aggravating my rapidly worsening headache, witch," the Red Wizard muttered. "I am back in control. Though it is a shame the silly pink girl tackled me. (I would have had the perfect alibi.)"

"Thou would have rather we'd all killed each other in a flaming explosion!?" Dynaheir snarled.

"Of course not; I quite like myself. My robe is protected against fire, and I would have been fine. You and your dullard, on the other hand..."

Dynaheir flushed angrily as Imoen clambered to her feet. Imoen picked up the Wand of Magic Missiles she'd dropped in the kerfluffle back there. Ow. Okay. Both her hands were blistered. Both thumbs. Thankfully neither fore or middle finger, as her archery gloves had insulated those. "Guys, not now, please," she begged. "I already smell like Montaron's cooking, and we're like just on the cusp of surviving this! If you two get in a throw down now, we're all-" she looked at Xan, who was nearby and still very much frozen. "Doomed," she giggled apologetically.

Edwin sized up Dynaheir, who was still disheveled from the arrow she'd taken to the lung earlier in the battle. Then he looked at Imoen, whose archery gloves were ruined and whose hands were blistered. Very calmly, in front of both of them, he pulled out a healing potion and drank from it for a mild grazing he'd taken from an arrow a few minutes back.

Dynaheir shook her head in disbelief the world could produce such a wretched, petty man. Imoen gave him a lazy look and told him so: "You are like the worst person I have ever met," she teased. "I don't think I've ever met anyone as ungrateful, conceited, or self-centered as you. And I've had sex with Montaron."

"I am still wondering why you are talking to me if you believe what you say; the gods know I have been trying to get you to stop for days."

"Oh go stare at yourself in a mirror for awhile why don't ya, peacock! And brush your hair while you're at it, you're a mess!" Edwin squinted at her, his lips pressed together wide and the corner of his mouth quirking with either irritation or amusement. "That's how he got you by the way; he peered around the corner with a mirror. I saw it just before it happened."

"Clever for a half-orc," Edwin muttered thoughtfully.

"What now?" Imoen asked. "Do we hold or push forward?"

"In a short while longer, these fools he's trapped will be able to move again. We need to advance. Your sister is getting over the bridge, and we have no visual on our unusually clever half orc friend. Perhaps he's slipped away under that cloud. Either way, he will likely back up into the cave to avoid dealing with us all at once."

"He has a lair, and Montaron says its trapped," Imoen reminded him. "He'll face us there. Do you have another fireball in ya?"

"You disrupted my last spell of that nature," Edwin told her irritably.

"Then let's not make it easy for him to secure his position!" she tucked her wand back into her belt and then reached into her cloak and pulled out an entirely different wand. Edwin noticed it and grabbed for it immediately, but she laughed and held it outside his reach.

"I am the Wand Queen here, vassal!" she proclaimed, giggling. "And you didn't give me a healing potion after burning me, so nyah!"

"Do you so relish the thought of accidentally hitting your sister?!" the Red Wizard growled as Dynaheir watched them fighting like children in dismay.

"Asks the man in funny red robes of the beautiful and talented young markswoman?" Imoen hooted.

"Or mis-triggering the wand and causing it to detonate, killing all of us?" Edwin snapped, reaching for it again and sneering when she didn't give it to him.

"Well then, I'll repeat after you, peacock. Like your very own pet monkey! Tell me how to say it. Unless you want Dynaheir to do it? The second word of the trigger is 'Viidost' and the first word's 'Qomorah.'" 

"Petulant child! Fine. Quomorah viidost, (most likely)."

"Quomorah viidost!" Imoen mimicked him perfectly, and her lightning bolt exploded and backwards like a white-hot snake, blowing twice-fried kobold-commando-zombies through the air. She missed hitting her sister's party by a wide margin, and then grinned smugly up at Edwin. {Thank you for the lesson, Teacher,} she cooed happily in Mulhourandi.

{You are so irritating...} he muttered, and tried a quick grab at the wand that she, once again, avoided. Then he turned about and headed for the front of the party. In his wake, everyone finally broke free of the enchantment. Xzar toppled over and complained of a numb leg. Branwen lurched out of her pose and for a moment the zombies piling up behind them stopped popping. Everyone (but Edwin, who had already charted his course) reflexively hugged in towards her, and when she realized what had happened she once more threw up her Malus to present it.

"I-is e-everyone alright?" Khalid called worriedly, looking over his portion of the group as he pushed aside zombies who had come in a bit too lear. "Boht of you? Branwen?" Then his gaze changed from worry to admiration as he beheld Jaheira still far ahead of them, still holding the line, calling out to the forces of the nature and doggedly carving a path over the bridge with Aegis on point. The three of them, Montaron included, had somehow managed tofinish off all the surviving kobolds. Perhaps the Protection from Arrows had been the only meaningful spell Aegis had lost.

"Remarkably, it appears no one at all has died," Xan surveyed. "Color me surprised."

"What is the color of surprise?" Xzar asked him in bafflement. "Is it yellow or perhaps a lime green? Unfortunately I have neither pigment on hand."

Xan looked up at the tall Moonsea wizard for a moment. He shook his head. "You may simultaneously be the most innocent and depraved man I have ever met. The dichotomy is far beyond unsettling."

"Why thank you! You know, I wasn't thinking about dichotomy, I was thinking about dimorphism. You really do look quite like a woman, and though I was never confused on the issue, I appreciate how less observant persons could form incorrect impressions of your gender."

"... Was that entirely necessary of you to say? Elves are quite capable of telling the difference, thank you."

"Well, I was just frozen staring at you for over a minute. So I began considering sexual dimorphism in bipedal organisms; and I believe I have determined a set of hypotheses you might try in order to more readily establish your gender so that non-elves do not look surprised when they first hear your voice. For example: Your hairline is not feminine, so you likely would gain some advantage from tying your hair back to expose it. Likewise you may consider wearing clothing that demonstrates the higher and more narrow illum of the pelvic structure. Of course running around in a loincloth would probably also suffice."

There was absolutely no answer for that. "Thank you Xzar," the enchanter decided was safest, "your concern for my social acceptance and your attention to my anatomical details are at least as heart warming as they are bone chilling."

"D'aww," the necromancer mumbled happily, and hugged him.

Chapter Text

Aegis and Jaheira waited near the entrance to Mulahey's cave while Montaron sneaked in to keep tabs on the cleric and to make sure he wasn't concocting some means of escape. No such escape plan seemed to be fomenting, but Mullahey was definitely fortifying himself, Montaron reported. Aegis might have charged blindly in after the half-orc, but fortunately her compatriots were not foolish enough to permit this.

When the rear party finally caught up with them, Xzar was near the front and clapping excitably. He beheld Aegis: Slicked head to toe in a paste of gore, with a few arrows sticking out of her armor in random directions. Jaheira was breaking them off or pulling them out, and healing what damage she could find under all the red goo. There was a dreamy, almost post-orgasmic haze on Aegis' face, after what had likely been the most difficult, sustained, frenetic fighting of her life; she was looking far too content for a woman who had just waded through a sea of bodies; but perhaps that contentment was adequately disguised as exhaustion.

"You look beautiful!" her necromancer cooed enthusiastically, coming up to her and inspecting her curiously. "Are you hurt?"

"I can't feel my arms," his ranger reported. Urso was sniffing her leg and making fussy noises. "I think I deserve some kind of reward for this. Yeah. Me for doing it, and Edwin for planning it." Jaheira had choice words about exactly what kind of 'rewards' they both deserved, but muttered them in nearly inaudible elvish.

"Are you hurt?" Xzar repeated, looking up at her face.

Aegis smirked. "A little," she decided. "I know what I want: four or five days of debauchery for all of us! Yes, that's exactly what I want. Five days of eating, bathing, sleeping, drinking, partying-"

"-wenching-" Edwin interjected, Dynaheir couldn't even muster the energy to sigh, and Aegis laughed.

"All you want is twenty-five gold to whore around Nashkel?" their party leader demanded. "You aim low, conjurer! But since all I want is a gigantic cake to pig out on with Imoen and a keg of wine, I think you've still got me beat."

"The pink harlot is on a strictly no-cake diet," Edwin answered solemnly. "I believe the sugar reduction will do our ears some good; and today has demonstrated that she has been getting a little fat."

As far as Edwin's sense of humor went, this insult was so innocuous and mundane that it actually earned him a few glances, particularly given what they'd all just gone through. Imoen punched him in the arm and he glared at her. "Hey! I'm stealing every cake, muffin, and cookie in Nashkel for that, smarty pants! The next time I tackle you I hope I break your ribs!" she laughed.

"Alas, I shall have to start my mornings with more than the usual number of push-ups if I am to survive your swollen obesity. I assume we are working on a plan to confront Mulahey?"

"Montaron's keeping an eye on him to see what, if anything, he's got planned for us. He mentioned he believed the entrance to Mulahey's room was warded."

"It is," Xan answered with a sigh. "I walked past those wards a number of times. They will trigger yet another Hold Person spell if tripped, and then you'll all be squashed together in a narrow hallway taking whatever he can dish out."

Aegis looked to Imoen for interpretation. "Um," replied the violet girl, "if it gets set off it'll try and paralyze up to four people. We already got hit full-force with one while you were busy fighting in the front. We were lucky there were really no kobold archers left across the moat-lake from where we were at that point."

"Well damn," Aegis told them. "You're telling me we either have to be prepared for four people getting paralyzed, or else send someone in alone to trip it and either hope they don't get paralyzed or else rush in to save them? I'm not sure I could try running headlong through a spell like that right now."

"Minsc will lead the next charge!" the barbarian man exclaimed proudly.

"I back this plan," Edwin agreed. Dynaheir glared lightning bolts through his head. Imoen nudged him aggressively. Edwin sighed, as he was not really interested in applying his vast intellect to conjuring a plan when sacrificing a Rashemi to meet the same ends was so pathetically easy.

"Mulahey will be waiting," Xan sighed, "and will most likely bash open the skull of the first immobilized person who enters the room."

"Can I have the brains?" Xzar inquired as he gathered up his own sleeve and blotted blood from Aegis's face. The party retained its sanity and cohesiveness by not answering the necromancer's question. Unrelated,

"I think I have an idea!"

The entire group turned around to look at Garrick, who fidgeted and smiled bashfully. "Well, he's a priest of Cyric, right? Not typically known for self-control. Why don't we taunt him out?"

Everyone looked at everyone else, uncertainty.

"Xan," Garrick suggested, "you said he ranted to himself a lot, right? Why don't you tell me some of the things he said? I'll put it into a bardsong and see if we can't provoke a reaction."

"This is stupid," Montaron told them. Imoen sidled up against him and nudged him with her hip to try and keep him placated. He rolled his eyes and then uncrossed his arms and grabbed at her wrists. He took a look at her burnt hands and then scowled. "Damn it Pink, how the hell do ya get injured so much? Need ta teach ye ta keep a lower profile." He pulled out a healing potion, uncorked it with his teeth, and poured the liquid directly and carefully over her blistered.

"Because, Monty," she whispered back after the soothing liquid caused bubbled and blackened tissue to rapidly heal. "I'm awesome."

"A master thief ain't 'awesome,' Pink. He's good enough fer no one ta even know he exists!"

"Oh poo on you," the girl giggled back.

~ Ho! There was a man named Mulahey,
well, not a man, a mutt;

~ He could not follow a simple plan,
so it's him we must now cut.

~ His master's got a price on him,
the gold's to ceiling high!

~ The best's been sent to take his head,
and also tell him why:

~ The kobolds yipped to hell and back,
drew elves to learn our name;

~ We warned him once for stealth this is,
he must elude all fame,

~ Oh Mulahey, hey Mulahey, we hope in death you find
the Mad God to be nicer than the world you leave behind-

~ (doubt it!)

~ We would like you now to know that Tazok sends apologies,
Not for you, but for the messy half-orc gutted on his knees.

~ Your replacement will expect to find the cleanup banal labor;
But these tasks will surely help to curry Tazok's lasting favor.

~ Oh-!

An indignant roar preluded Mulahey barreling out through the curtain. Minsc and Aegis were unarmed and standing on either side of the entryway. As he passed them, each one grabbed one of his arms, kicked out one of his legs, and drove him into the ground with a heavy thud.

If Edwin thought Imoen was bad, he surely ought to have pitied Mulahey when both oversize rangers sat down on the man's back. Urso decided to help: He grabbed the cleric's mace as it tumbled from his hand and dragged it away from his grasp. Then the rangers had wrenched Mulahey's arms behind his back, and the half orc was helpless to do much of anything.

"I suggest you yield," Jaheira said diplomatically.

The cleric snarled and debated himself ferociously. Minsc struck him across the back of the head bare-handed and he visibly bit his tongue and yelped. His flailing stilled. The rangers eased up slightly, and waited for him to catch his breath. They were after more than one dead half orc. They were after answers.

"By Cyric!" Mullahey eventually said, "Not a measure of ore leaves these caverns unspoiled and I am still be executed!? I should not lose my head for this!"

"Heh," Montaron grinned, kneeling down in front of the half-orc and smoothing a dagger up against his throat. "Yer a fool, cleric. I suggest ye gab ta us a bit about yer master, and maybe we won't cut ye a bit before lettin' ya go."

"You- you're not-?" Mulahey sputtered, then looked frightened from one face to another. "I- I yield! I yield! Please accept my surrender!"

Montaron laughed. "See, that might work on almost any one of these sick goody-goodies, but I've seen plenty o' the underbelly o' the world, and I know better. Yer gonna talk, or Imma feed ya yer own balls. That clear?"

The cleric squirmed, grimacing. He did not argue.

"Good piggie. Now, who is Tazok?"

"My- my master, he's a half ogre. He sent me here to oversee our operations in the mines! It's all in the documents in my chest- everything! Please, let me go!"

"Ya ain't too bright now, are ye? We might not have gotten into that room afore deciding exactly what ta do with ye. Ya could have pretended we needed ye. Now yer dead."

"But- but-!"

Montaron glanced up at Aegis and saw the pitying expression on her face. "No," the halfling said prohibitively. "Trust me on this one: Never trust a Cyrite. One category of persons ya can safely hate."

Xzar laughed almost hysterically at that. "Kill the rabbit!" he encouraged. "Kill the rabbit! Please!"

Dynaheir, both Jaheira and Khalid, and Edwin all nodded their agreement. Aegis sighed. Montaron smirked and lifted up his dagger to the half-orc's throat. Then Xzar suddenly yelled: "Wait!" Irritable, the halfling glanced back over his shoulder to see what the fuss is about. Xzar gestured to Xan. "We haven't consulted the elf. Xan? Do you want to kill him yourself?"

Most of the room expected Xan to uninvolve himself, to grimace and turn away. Instead he looked down at Mulahey for a very long time, and the half-orc began to sweat.

"There's no need to kill me," Mullahey argued. "I can help you. I can get you a meeting with my master!"

Xan turned to look at Khalid. "May I borrow your sword?" he asked.

"My s-sword? Of c-course..." Khalid murmured sympathetically, flipping the weapon to offer the hilt out to Xan.

Xan took the hilt with a strange familiarity that belied his delicate frame and wizardly leanings. He turned it from side to side, and gave it a surprisingly casual twirl as if getting a sense for the balance. Then he walked up to where the two rangers had pinned the Cyric cleric. Mullahey began to babble: Pleas, invocations to Cyric, random nonsense. Xan surveyed the half orc's armor visually and picked out a weak spot. Then he planted a foot firmly on Mulahey's shoulder, grasped the hilt of the sword with both hands like a dagger, and drove the point fiercely down through the cleric's back.

So close to him, the rangers could see the hate that contorted the otherwise mild elf's face. The hate, and the pain. He spoke in elvish very few of them could both hear and understand, but which Minsc could understand by tone: "Sin accarni perperemmë. Sin accarni hiswa-vacconin anqualërya." This I do to avenge us our great anguish. This I do for the death of a Greycloak.

Mulahey cried out. Xan twisted the blade and the cry turned to a gurgle. He pulled the sword free, wiped the tip off on the dying cleric's clothes, and then turned and promptly delivered the sword back to Khalid. The party watched him with new eyes. Branwen, in particular, looked very moved. 

"Thank you," was all the enchanter said. Montaron, irritated with all of them, slit Mullahey's throat anyway to be sure of the deed.

"Well then, that was nice," Edwin drawled. "If we have had enough drama, let us turn our attention to disarming that ward. I suggest the barbarian do it, just in case there are any dart traps." This time Dynaheir didn't get upset. With the adrenaline of battle dying down, she was again getting used to the notion that Edwin was certainly abrasive, but not necessarily hostile.

"Too late! Already done!" called a voice from inside the room. Montaron looked around and then blinked when he realized Imoen was already in the other room, and had apparently casually walked through the hold person spell and either successfully resisted it or otherwise simply waited for the effect to fade while they were dealing with Mullahey.

"Oh no ye don't, we've a deal; no lootin' without me!" the halfling demanded, darting after her.

Mulahey's little living space and apparent throne room was filled with mildly expensive goodies, but the most interesting object in the place to Imoen and Montaron was the large chest reinforced with bronze that had been trapped to an excessive level of security. The two thieves were curled up beside it, arguing about technique and assisting one another with various tools for opening it safely.

Xan entered the room reluctantly, and only out of a desire to be away from Mulahey's corpse. He did not lift his gaze from the floor, and after a few moments of standing there quivering in the corner, he lifted a hand to cover his mouth and nose. Garrick and Branwen both noticed his distress, and though Garrick could not help pangs of jealousy towards the elf, the two of them returned to his side and politely offered to wait with him out by the lake. He shook his head rapidly.

"I'm hoping they find... my possessions," he said slowly. "I will need to be on hand to... to identify them."

Branwen frowned, but when she tried to put an arm around him he shied away. Garrick winced and and with his hands made a representation of a small amount of space being made slightly larger. As much as Xan might have appreciated their concern, he needed everyone to not touch him in this place. The Northeim woman thought for a moment and nodded understandingly.

Aegis remained behind the rest of her group, watching the eager rummaging of her party members. This is it, she thought. The end of our Nashkel journey. Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she brushed drying red gunk from her armor and seriously considered jumping into the cavern lake. This is the mission that was holding everyone together. And now...

...Now I don't know what happens next.

While many of the others searched the papers on Mulahey's tables, Xzar had located alchemical tools and potions in the rear corner. He ran his fingers over the tubes and pouches he found there. His attention trailed over notes, cages of small animals, burners, and droppers. Then at last he teased a piece of parchment free from the others, inspecting it curiously. A smile curled his lips. He folded it up and was about to tuck it into his robes when he noticed Jaheira was watching him. He looked from her down to the paper, then back again. The druid did not shout accusations or start a fight, but she watched him with stony severity.

"A nice little find," he whispered. "Are you going to hurt me for it?" he asked mischievously.

"Do you want me to ask Aegis to let me see it?" the woman asked him with zero inflection in her voice.

Xzar realized Jaheira had the upper hand. He manifested a bashful expression and offered the paper out to her. "You can have the original," he told her. "I will make myself a copy."

"I am not exactly sure I should permit you to have a copy," she growled, examining the contents. They were in the common tongue, and they described the alchemical recipe for the iron poison.

"You can't stop me any more than I can stop you," Xzar told her. "We could have, in other circumstances. If we were the loci of authority; if control were individual and not centralized. But that is not the case. Good thing, too, seeing as how we were barely successful."

"I do not trust you to leave peacefully," Jaheira said, lifting her gaze to him and keeping her voice as low as his.

"You shouldn't. The sentiment is mutual, hehe..." He watched her fingers tighten on her oaken staff and he smiled but turned from her, leaning over to examine more of Mulahey's notes and alchemical contraptions. He decided to take some of the components to replenish his own stores. " I'll let you in on a little secret, druid: I haven't left just yet."

"You have 'employers' to report back to; or have you forgotten? So when will you leave? When we're exhausted halfway back to Nashkel?"

"You tell me. Do you think I want to face down a berserk ranger and a party of seven just to kill you? Or do you think I'd much prefer going back to Nashkel to relax for a few days, sharing the bed of your... niece? And then leave with my head on my shoulders?" He smiled, flicking his gaze back up to Jaheira. "I wonder if the dead Harper looks down on her from his afterlife; and watches his child making love to a Zhent. I hope I put on quite the spectacle for him."

She advanced an angry step on him and he ducked down, a wide grin on his face.

"Now, now, Jaheira... It is not my fault the dead Harper did not teach his daughter his ways. She's not one of you. She won't care what you call me; she'll still take my side because you started it. So sheltered she is. So vulnerable..."

"If you harm her..." the druid muttered loud enough that nearby, Edwin could overhear.

Xzar smiled like a cat. "Why would I do that? She is not the one who offends the humors."

"A thousand and one reasons, no doubt, least of all to get to us."

"You dramatically over value yourself," the necromancer teased. "Ah. She's wise to us."

Jaheira glanced behind her, and realized that Aegis was staring straight at her and Xzar. The girl's eyes were narrowed and her arms were crossed over her chest. She was still covered in gore, so Urso was pacing around her feet instead of riding on her shoulder. Jaheira wrinkled her nose and looked back to Xzar. "This isn't over," she told him.

Xzar waved her off with a giggle.

Edwin followed Jaheira with his eyes. He snuck an unobtrusive glance over to where Dynaheir was inspecting vials for usable potions. Minsc was talking with her quietly to make sure she was alright, and she pat his arm reassuringly. "I am fine, sweet giant," she promised him. "Perhaps if you are still not convince, Boo can provide further assurances?"

Minsc agreed this was a good plan, and proceeded to lift up Boo and move the hamster left and right, and up and down, much like a scrying stick. He then conferred with Boo on the matter, and after several moment he put the hamster back into his pocket, reached forward, seized Dynaheir's shoulder, and promptly realigned the shoulder with a chiropractic crackle. Dynaheir cried out in surprise, and then wore a stupefied expression as Minsc released her. She moved her arm around, became very confused, and looked up at her companion.

"The feisty one is wise! Boo is honored by her recognition!"

Edwin considered what Dynaheir would do now that the Nashkel mines were investigated. Would she leave, or would she continue on with the party that had rescued her? If the witch left, and if Xzar and Montaron were also planning on leaving, he might be able to contract the two to help him kill her.

But if she stayed... then he had to find out why, because the Wychlaran had ended up incredibly off-course from her expected route. And that meant something interesting was afoot.

"Edwin!" Imoen complained suddenly. "Come here! We can't identify this trap spell, and Xan is too busy trying not to puke to help us!"

He sighed, but moved over to see what The Lady Annoyance Incarnate wanted of him.

When they finally got the chest open, they found it full of goodies. Extra armor and a huge bag of gold numbering well into the seven hundreds of coins greeted them on the surface, and Montaron gave a laugh on seeing them. "Okay, we split it 50-50," the halfling teased. "Ye get the armor, I get the bag."

"Wouldn't you be upset if you found out the armor was magic," Imoen giggled, pulling out two folded letters and opening them as Montaron pulled out the heaviest items. "Aha! These are the documents old pig-face was talking about." She started reading it at the same time she passed some of them to Edwin for review. "Oh! Oh wow. Guys! This is all tied up with the bandits! It's a lot bigger than just the mine!"

Jaheira hurried over to have a look, but Edwin became distracted by something Montaron had uncovered.

"That's a beauty," Montaron whistled, but Edwin grabbed his hand before he could reach into the trunk. "Hey! Keep yer-"

"That is a moonblade," Edwin cautioned, quite surprised. "And I don't suggest touching the hilt unless you want to be destroyed by arcane fire. They are sentient, and they bond to only wielders of elfish blood."

"A moonblade?!" Imoen trilled excitedly, giving the important documents to Jaheira so she could come back and investigate. "Oh! He's right: don't touch it, Montaron!" she echoed. The halfling gave her a frown. "Oh, you- you just need to read more!" she sputtered.

"It's here!?" Xan gasped with a tremor of almost forlorn hope, stumbling past Branwen and Garrick and coming up to join the thieves. "He didn't manage to pawn it off to some fool or throw it into a lake? Oh merciful Seldarine. I suppose if it had gone far, I would have already been-" He collapsed by the trunk, reaching in to grasp the hilt with one hand and support the length of the blade with the other.

"It's yours?" Imoen gawked, and then laughed. "Why didn't ya say nothin'?"

Almost reverently, Xan pulled a gorgeous mithral weapon from the chest. It was easily a full length longsword, with moonstones glimmering brightly in its pommel. When Xan touched it, the metal of the blade came alive with a shimmer of glowing blue faerie fire. The elf closed his eyes for a moment, letting out a deep sigh of relief. Some of the weakness and malaise seemed to leave him, and he stood up with the sword as if it weighed no more than a feather.

"You didn't mention a moonblade," Edwin prodded, though he endeavored not to look anywhere near as curious.

"I didn't think... He told me he had disposed of it," the elf shuddered. "I should have known this was a lie. I would have withered to nothing if he had, for certain. But... I did not want to burden you in the search for it..."

"Aw, Xan, of course we would of helped you!" Imoen giggled. "That's so cool! That's why you were handling Khalid's sword all easy-peasy? Xan! You're awesome!" Edwin gave an annoyed eye-roll, a little peeved.

Their enchanter blushed slightly, running his fingers over the cool metal and then lowering it to his side as if it were no burden at all to carry. "Have you by any chance found my spellbook?"

"It's probably in here, hold up!" Imoen laughed, and then started digging in the trunk. She fell partially into the open chest in her enthusiasm, one of her legs kicking up in the air. Edwin leaned back from her flailing, uncertain whether to find this amusing or irritating. It was certainly unnecessary. He glanced with an arched brow at Montaron, who propped up his head on one fist with the elbow on the edge of the chest and shrugged at the Red Wizard unknowingly. I have no idea why everything she does turns ridiculous, the older thief seemed to say. She's just weird like that.

"Aha! No, wait, that's a dictionary. Aha!" Imoen struggled back upright with a violet-bound volume in hand. Xan reached out and took the book with an appreciative thanks. "There are a lot of spell scrolls down in here too," their pink thief said aloud; and immediately most of the wizards in the room looked at her.

"Speaking of which," Aegis said, "I think it's time to start laying out and divvying up all the loot, before everyone starts getting cranky and whining for it. Including the gold and semiprecious gemstones that you two have been sneaking into your pockets when you think I'm not looking."

"Pry em out of me cold dead hands," spat Montaron.

"Okay," said Aegis, as she took the seven hundred coin bag from between them. "Then since however much you already have can't be evaluated, I guess we just assume it's enough, and you don't get a cut of this."

"May ye mother, grandmother, aunts, and all kin all disown ye."

"Jokes on you, I don't know any of them."

The scrolls were distributed by seniority. There were many ways for a multi-wizard party to handle looted scrolls, but this was the method that had been established as each new wizard joined the party. The result was that Xzar always got first pick of anything he wanted out of the pile first, followed by Dynaheir, Edwin, and now lastly Xan.

This arrangement was mediocre for Edwin.

Xzar had appeared largely disinterested in most spell scrolls since Edwin joined the party, and his choosiness made him an ideal choice to go first, particularly as he often elected to pass. At other times he would take a scroll from the pile and inspect it, only to return it to the group at a later date, giving Dynaheir or Edwin the opportunity to make use of it. He had been a... unexpectedly courteous wizard in that respect, Edwin was now forced to recognize. At least until now.

Dynaheir was less selective. She was interested in more than just her specialty, and as she was frankly from a radically different culture, language, and theory of magic than every other spellcaster in the group; she needed more time with more scrolls in order to get the most out of her magic while traveling the Sword Coast. Her need for the scrolls was defensible, but annoying.

With her choosing before him, pickings had always been slim. Here and there he'd gotten something at least mildly interesting or entertaining to study, but there was little chance in hell Dynaheir would let a good invocation or conjuration slip past her if she did not already have the spell recorded. And even if she did, she personally had to spend time comparing her notes and analyzing the differences between Wychlaran magic and proper wizardry so that future scrolls would be easier to understand.

The added irritant to all of this was that Xzar clearly had some bizarre infatuation with the enchanter. Although Xan was technically last pick, the necromancer pulled every enchantment and illusion out of the pot and offered them to the elf first.

Too happy to have his Moonblade, original cloak, and spellbook back, Xan lacked the presence of mind to be disturbed by his new 'friend.' Not that that relationship made any sense at-

Oh. Edwin perked up, surprised. Then he smiled to himself. I oft forget the insanity is a veil. No, it makes perfect sense. If there was a conflict, Xan might have originally sided with Jaheira and Khalid. Xzar is too disturbed to actually win loyalty, but he can easily win sympathy. Now if there is a conflict, Xan and Branwen will likely both give the necromancer the benefit of the doubt. Clever madman.

Once more Edwin found himself getting nothing of value at the end of the seniority procession. There was a possibility he would end up getting a few scrolls from Xan and Dynaheir later when they had finished with them, but he wouldn't hold his breath. And he wouldn't bother genuinely minding, either. On one hand it was slightly irritating the party didn't recognize his vast superiority over the other wizards; On the other, it was well within his power to seek out magic on his own; he need not fight for table scraps.

The other loot was divided up significantly more fairly, with items going to each according to their need and function, and not necessarily being distributed by seniority. Annoyed, Edwin wondered if the disparity in rules existed because Aegis could eyeball the relative value of physical items, but had no mind for spells. Perhaps she ought to be introduced to the concept of a draft, to at least partially balance the playing field. He was just considering how he'd be glad to finally leave the party when he felt Imoen siddle up beside him. He glanced down at her, and then felt the gentle brush of paper as she slipped something cylindrical up his sleeve. He tilted his head to the side inquisitively, catching the scroll with his fingertips and keeping it hidden.

{Dimension Door*,} Imoen whispered. {For the next time there's a ceiling coming at you.}

The corner of his mouth twitched. He wasn't entirely clear on who was manipulating who at the moment, and the words that finally came to his mouth did not clarify things for either of them: {Very well. I repeal my cake prohibition.}

She snickered. {I suppose you could always chase me with conjured bats to make me run off the extra fat in the mornings.}

{I shall keep this tactic in mind.}

Chapter Text

There had been a rear passage out of the caverns, as Jaheira and Montaron had both suggested there might be. Emerging, the group found themselves in inhospitable lands far too close to Durlag's tower. It was late in the evening when the finally reached the surface, and the first thing any of them realized about the landscape was that it was covered in a bunch of reanimated skeletons.

Branwen shouted for Tempus and blew a significant chunk of the enemy to dust. Other undead began to cower, and the party quickly disposed of the remainder.

"In ilwë..." Xan muttered.

"The sky," Aegis agreed.

"The sky!" Imoen cooed at the same time. Then she squealed and hopped about and did a cartwheel. "Wee! The sky! The sky!" Montaron watched her incredulously, then slapped a hand over his face and chuckled.

"Well, at least we have someone to drop all pretenses of decorum on our behalves," Jaheira said, half bossy, half laughing. "Calm down, child, we could be in any form of danger out here at night. Yes, yes, we are all very happy to see the sky."

"I miss the underground," Xzar disagreed.

They were out. Now there was only the matter of figuring out where they were, geographically speaking. "Well, rangers," Edwin deferred with a mock bow, "which direction do we head?"

Aegis grimaced up at the stars and then gestured behind them and to the right. "Can't be perfectly sure where we are, but based on the general lay of the mine, Naskel should be that way," she told them. "Ugh. I should have jumped into that lake. I feel disgusting."

"Red is your color," Xzar disagreed, waving a hand in front of his face. "But you are starting to smell like something I failed to preserve properly."

"Look I'm good for walking tonight," Aegis said, "so let's just get going. Worst case we bump into the mines themselves, camp there, and tell them how it went."

"Most of our spells are expended," Jaheira reasoned slowly. "I suggest we sleep in the cave mouth this evening, as tired of the place as we might be."

"Guys," Aegis complained, "guys the sheets in Nashkel... The blankets... the breakfast... we're out of food. I don't want to hunt tomorrow... baths..."

"If you are going to whine like an enormous baby, I shall temporarily revoke your leadership rights," Jaheira told her irritably.

"Never!" the ranger laughed. "I am the biggest female in the party. That makes me in charge." She looked around and took survey of the group and then nodded. "You've got a point though. Let's resign ourselves to one more night in the bloody cave... and..." she trailed off, shifting her weight unsteadily as Urso went very still. "Jaheira, something's wrong."

"I feel it too," the druid said, looking around at the earth. Aegis frowned, and glanced to Minsc, who seemed to feel the same thing. "Oh- oh no."

There was a ripple of earth behind them. An enormous green shape exploded through the earth, sending a shower of stone and debris in all direction and and inadvertently closing off the possibility of escaping back into the cavern.

"Ankheg!" Jaheira roared. "Everyone, retreat immediately! Run! Run!"

"What? Wait! Jaheira! Holy shi-" Aegis muttered, stumbling backwards from the gargantuan insect and then gaping up at it in awe. "That's an Ankheg!? Dear sweet Ohgma. They never look that big in books-!"

Then she lifted up her shield as a giant green glob came flying out from the insect's mouth. It slammed into the shield, splattering slightly out to her sides, and Aegis heard the sizzle of acid as the metal began dissolving. 

"Oh fuck."

She saw muscles of some kind working up the monster's throat. It's face was still pointed her way. She dove. Another acid projectile went flying past as she rolled clear of it to land on her feet.

"Aegis!" she heard Minsc call, and looked behind her to see her party had fled. Minsc had noticed her failure to retreat; and so had Xzar. They were trying to figure out whether to help her engage or encourage her to run.

"Jaheira..." Aegis snarled. Then she heard the Ankheg sputtering and she had to catch the next projectile on her shield because she'd been too slow to act. The second splatter began wilting the edges of her shield, demonstrating it was no longer fit to defend anyone. Aegis threw it down with a curse, backpedaling. Wait! The skeletons. The skeletons had been armed.

She rolled to dodge the next projectile, grabbed up a rusty old shield from among the bones, and then Xzar was tugging urgently on her arm to pull her back to her feet, and the two of them bolted off after Minsc and the rest of their rapidly retreating party.

"Half of us don't have infravision!" Aegis heard Imoen shout in the distance, "and the moonlight's not great!

"I do, ya idiot, so shut up before something pegs ya!" Montaron snapped. "I-Veer left, hedge!"

"Swiftly now! I saw their heading!" Minsc said. Aegis heard the Ankheg vomit once more and ducked as another giant acid loogie went flying over her head. Then she could feel tremors again. Was it going back under the ground? Was it leaving, or did it intend to pursue them, somehow?

"Little Death!" her necromancer called. "I can cast something to deter it, but not while running! I have to stop-"

Aegis belted her axe and then reached out and grabbed up the tall man, heaving him onto her shoulder so he was facing behind her. She realized she wasn't the only one to scavenge something from the skeletons: Xzar was holding a skull. "Do it fast!" she told him. He grunted, trying to hold the skull steady as he scribbled out the necessary sigil.

"It is tunneling after us!" Minsc realized. "So fast? It burrows at speeds unlike anything Boo has ever seen! Hurry! We need help from the others if we are to fight something that can eat steel!"

Aegis grit her teeth. Jaheira.

Xzar continued muttering in draconic as the giant insect pursued them at a break-neck pace towards a menacing-looking and craggy-looking landscape with plenty of easy falls to take.

"Hurry!" Aegis whispered to him urgently. "I can feel it in my boots! Hurry!"

The mage finished up with what must have been the last few words. He grabbed on hard to Aegis's shoulder, pushed himself up as high as he could and hurled the skull through the air behind them. When it hit the ground it stuck there, and did not roll or bounce. A moment passed, and then another. Then a spark of green behind them signified the Ankheg had reached the trap. Aegis didn't stop running to look. There was an unholy explosion of shrieking and all sorts of other terrifying (but largely unseen) noises behind them. An Ankheg roar was accompanied by the rupture of stone and dirt; and then these were followed by a heavy, crackling thud.

The trembling stopped. Hopefully the Ankheg was either dead or too weak to continue. Aegis wasn't going to turn around to distinguish between the two.

"Small cliff!" Minsc warned, grabbing her shoulder and tugging her away from an outcropping. She cursed and did her best to follow him. "Be careful! Minsc is no elf, but he is used to the dangers of low light! We should follow your noble animal ahead of us! Can you not see his fluffy ringed tail? Bound not where he refuses to bound! Ho!"

They caught up with the rest of the group about five minutes later, when Jaheira had firmly ascertained they were no longer being followed by the subterranean monster. To be honest, they might have run right past them if it weren't for Khalid calling out to them. None of the three humans in the rear of the party had any infravision, and it was entirely owed to a raccoon that not one of them had broken a leg or twisted an ankle. Aegis let Xzar down with a big sigh as she stumbled into their little gathering.

"Do we have everyone?" Aegis demanded. "I was in the rear! Where are-?"

Jaheira started towards her in alarm. "You saw neither Edwin nor Dynaheir?" she asked sharply. Aegis looked around swiftly. Branwen, Xan, Garick, Jaheira, Khalid, Imoen, Montaron, Minsc, Xzar, herself...

"Feisty one is still back there!?" Minsc shouted in alarm. "Where!?"

"I warned you that man was a powder keg!" Jaheira exclaimed, and Aegis swung around to stare at her. "No doubt the Red Wizard is taking this opportunity to finish what he started! Garrick, swiftly! Send a message to Dynaheir, get her to reply with her location!"

"He's got hardly any spells left!" Imoen disagreed. "Neither of them do! They're not going to have a magic missile duel in the middle of the forest!

"He won't have attacked her," Aegis seconded Imoen. "He gave his word." Montaron laughed at her perceived naivety and Branwen made a bitter expression, but Aegis stubbornly shook her head and tried not to round on Jaheira for her condemnatory tone and presumption of leadership; there was an emergency to address first. "Garrick, have you found her?"

"She- she says she doesn't know where they are, but she's stumbled into half ogres..." Garrick stuttered.

"We need to go!" Minsc was very alarmed.

"No! We will all get lost; we must-" Jaheira disagreed.

Aegis lost her temper: "Well you should have fucking thought about that before you ordered a blind retreat, into darkness, with a majority-human party and no lit torches, in unknown territory, with overcast skies and naught but a crescent moon for visibility!" Aegis snarled. "So how about you shut up!"

Jaheira reeled back in surprise. "It was an Ankheg!"

"And Xzar killed it while we retreated!" Aegis bellowed back. "Stop giving orders!"

The druid went quiet.

"They can't be far!" Aegis determined. "Urso! Scout! Everyone else, we need to fan out. Pair up; no one without infravision goes anywhere without someone who has it! Spread apart wide enough that our search space isn't overlapping, at least two hundred yards! Me, Xzar, and Khalid towards the North; then Minsc and Jaheira; Montaron and Imoen; and Xan, Garrick, and Branwen to the South. Move directly back in the direction we came. Identify a means you can signal the rest of the party, and if you get lost make sure you stay in one place so at least the rangers and druid can find you come morning. Now move, and move fast!"

They located a concealed campfire by the soft glow. The light was reflecting and diffusing off the rocks of a nearby cliff, and so was barely bright enough to be visible. Xan and Imoen's group both saw it; and Imoen signaled the others by shooting up a flaming arrow straight into the sky. As they all converged towards the ridge, Imoen and Montaron managed to catch up with Xan, Branwen, and Garrick first. Together the five party members climbed up the ridge and, as they drew closer, they heard chanting and guttural snarls. A cry slowly transformed into a panicked scream.

Rushing as fast as they could to the top of the ridge, they found themselves looking down at a camp of half ogres. Dynaheir was there. Her clothing had been torn to shreds and there were two half-ogres who had hoisted her off the ground and pinned her up against the cliff face. They were groping all over her nude body, and arguing with one another over who had first right. The woman hung limp in their hold, her eyes rolled up in her head. She appeared to be muttering rapidly under her breath.

Xan and Branwen were just about to head down to help her when the former spotted movement and grabbed his companion's arm. Montaron pointed out the problem to Imoen and Garrick. Dynaheir hadn't just encountered two lone half-ogres; this was an entire camp. There were seven of the ugly brutes hanging around, and several more collapsed on the ground which looked severely injured or perhaps even dead.

As Imoen watched, a full blown ogre with ugly yellow skin strode out from behind a rock. She saw he was holding a human-sized man in red painfully by the arm. Walking straight into the middle of the camp, the ogre dragged the fast-talking Thayvian along with minimal effort. Edwin had clearly been trying to stall for time, but his luck was starting to run out. The ogre threw him down before the fire with a grin.

"Enough talking," the ogre laughed. "You think me dumb? Last time you talk, Zergag and Tork get face full of magic."

"If your lackeys rape the witch, it will be the last woman they ever have. You should let her go; because while I might be out of spells, she is going to hold a grudge..."

Edwin's answer was bizarre at first because it seemed somewhat noble, or at least made him reliant on Dynaheir to help him; but then one could consider the fact that the witch still appeared to be reciting draconic, and that she might well have had an ace in the hole.

Branwen whispered, "What do we do?"

"Charge in with utmost foolishness to attempt a doomed rescue," Xan answered. "Imoen, your arrows may distract them. Let me begin with a Luck spell for your accuracy, and then we must engage." Imoen nodded in understanding and nocked her first arrow. She aimed for one of the ogres molesting Dynaheir because they were closest. Branwen began chanting a spell of her own. 

The ogre wasn't buying Edwin's bluff. "No, me thinks you're lying," the giant creature laughed, reaching out for a spit that had been erected over the fire. The implications of this action were clear; there was Thayvian barbecue on the menu that evening.

"Nol laasro lah, yol-!" Edwin gasped out, and Imoen and Xan recognized the desperate weaving of a wizard who had nothing left to give and was going to try and squeeze out one last spell past exhaustion. The ogre, however, was faster. He turned and kicked the wizard to his belly in the dirt, and leaned over to grab one of his arms again.

"Naughty!" the monster laughed, planting his boot on the mage's shoulder and then pulling up almost gently. Edwin tried frantically to cast, but his focus was interrupted. He screamed out in surprise and alarm when the ogre gave a sharp little tug, and the force completely dislocated the Red Wizard's shoulder.

Imoen bolted down over the ridge, skidding and hopping down the sharp incline and loosing her bow as she went. The invisible warmth of Xan's luck spell tingled through her fingers, and her magical fire arrow flew straight and true, directly into one half-ogre's ribs. Flames spit up in a bloom from his side, and he dropped Dynaheir to the ground with a howl. Dynaheir did not retreat, but lifted her hands in the air, her fingers playing at the Weave. The second ogre leaned over to grab hold of her, but Garrick managed to put a crossbow bolt in its shoulder that sent it stumbling back in surprise.

"TEMPUS!" Branwen boomed, following Imoen with great gusto as Garrick reload his crossbow to support and Montaron considered what utter and complete idiots everyone around him was. Diving into battle? Against seven half ogres and a full blood? Without Aegis, Minsc, or Khalid!?

"Pink!" Montaron shouted angrily, and then quickly hurried down to accompany. He'd stab from the shadows, somehow in all this, but with Imoen out in the open...! Mask damn ye for lacking subtlety in combat! What- what are ye-? By Cyric-!

The full-ogre looked up at them in surprise and then suddenly grinned. Imoen was walking straight out into the middle of the camp. She had another arrow nocked and appeared entirely blind to his intimidating size and the many surprised half-ogres who were twisting about to catch sight of her. Following behind her, Branwen batted aside one of their quicker adversaries, her hammer breaking his enormous wrist and setting him to howling.

"Release him and flee, all of you brutes!" Imoen shouted. "Or you're in for a world of hurt!"

"Klo do paaz skildir hi!" Xan's last remaining sleep spell dropped the two injured ogres nearest to Dynaheir. The Wychlaran was starting to tremble violently, and Xan glanced up at the sound of vultures calling. His brow furrowed, but he didn't have time to consider what she was doing. Instead he slid down the ridge after his companions, his moonblade gleaming brightly.

"You might want to give her what she wants," Edwin taunted even with his face smeared in the ground. "She's got a little army behind her, and a ranger who specializes in breaking ogres."

Imoen loosed her next fire arrow directly into the ogre, hitting him in the collar and singing him with the plume of flame. She expected the monster to release Edwin and confront her, because honestly that made the most sense. But he didn't. As she continued to advance and nocked another arrow, the ogre gave a big, hearty laugh. What can you do to me, really? he seemed to ask, and his fingers tightened on the captive Thayvian's arm. Then he began pulling upwards again.

He was going to teach these little humans a big lesson about power.

Edwin started cursing and screaming, kicking at the dirt and writhing helplessly to try and break free. There were no jokes and there was no composure at a time like this! Imoen's eyes widened in horror as she loosed another arrow into the monster. And another. She nocked rapidly a third time, sloppily, fired again, and still struck true! But with four arrows sticking out of him, the ogre was still still grinning evilly at her. He broke off the shafts casually with his off hand, and laughed at how pathetic and weak she was. He pressed easily down with his boot on Edwin's shoulder and then jerked upward with all of his tremendous might.

The ogre tore the Red Wizard's arm clear off his body. The action elicited the most horrifying and pig-like squeal Imoen had ever heard extracted from human lips. Cloth tore, flesh ripped, bones popped, cartilage snapped, muscles lost anchor and tendons burst. Blood sprayed forth in a chaotic gush.

Imoen dumbly stopped walking. The bow dropped numb from her fingers. She grabbed out the lightning wand from her bodice and pointed it forward without a moment's hesitance. The ogre continued to laugh at her and tossed the Red Wizard's severed arm in her direction. "Quomorah viidost," she muttered, unflinching.

The ogre stopped smiling. He staggered a bit, and then looked down slowly to take int he sight of the sizzling hole bored through the center of his body. Then he rocked back on the balls of his feet, and fell limp into the camp fire. Half ogres were closing in all around her and Branwen (and Montaron) but Imoen didn't see. She was lucky to have a team of highly competent people around her. Edwin's severed arm landed with a thud beside her and Imoen pounced on it to pick it up.

Simultaneously, Dynaheir's chanting bore fruit. The Wychlaran belted out an ungodly scream, and then things were coming out of the air. It was a hoard of vultures, and it catapulted down at break-neck speeds out of the skies. The enormous birds smashed into the faces of oncoming half ogres, talons scraping for their eyes, using momentum and surprise to knock over quite a number of them in the process. They slashed out with thick talons and bit with hooked beaks. Xan reached the witch's side and quickly enacted a double coup de grace to kill both sleeping ogres at her feet.

"Branwen!" Imoen shrieked, already mid run and bolting for the Thayvian's limp body. She dropped to her knees in the gravel and dirt, skidding to a halt behind him and dropping the extracted limb to press her hands forcefully into the gushing injury. Pressure! Pressure could stave off bleeding to death! Could a potion? She couldn't tell if he was conscious, much less alive! Had she hit him with the Lightning Bolt? She'd no business firing one so close to him. "Branwen!!!"

A half-ogre stomped up towards her and she cringed forward helplessly. Montaron appeared out of the darkness, drawing his short sword through its belly and spilling guts over the ground as the creature folded backwards over its spine. "Got yer back, Pink!" he promised her with a hiss, though he didn't think much of the Red Wizard's chances. This wasn't the time for philosophy; and it was too late to back up now.

Branwen reached Imoen at a run, throwing down her hammer into the gravel and kneeling quickly beside Edwin. She'd left behind a dazed and clobbered half-ogre for Montaron to play with, and they all heard the twin howls of berserker rages as Minsc and Aegis reached the battle scene.

"Ih he e'en alyve!?" the cleric demanded of Imoen as she tried to position the severed limb.

"Try anyway!" Imoen pleaded, as she didn't know the answer yet. Branwen nodded.

"Alryght, alryght! Quickleh releyse 'im when Ai'm reydeh!" she told Imoen, starting to chant and holding the arm close to the gaping socket.

Branwen's Waelen accent had intensified tremendously, but Imoen understood well enough. The moment she perceived Branwen's prayer was nearing completion, Imoen pulled her hands out of the injury and pressed firmly down on his shoulder blade to hold his body in place. Branwen stuffed the shoulder joint painfully in to its socket, completing the first prayer to seal major arteries and veins from body to limb. Edwin convulsed violently, a broken noise escaping his throat and signifying that he remained both alive and conscious.

"Gyt 'im oop a byt forr meh, neyd tyo 'ttach th' muscle!" Imoen had never acclimated herself to such a strong Waelen accent before, but Branwen's gestures made what she wanted clear: She needed to be able to pull the pectoral muscle back together, and for that she needed to be able to reach under Edwin.

The cleric began chanting again as the rest of the party began their way down the ridge. Imoen glanced to the side when shuffling gravel revealed someone was approaching her. She saw Xan supporting a dazed Dynaheir to their side, his moon blade held at ready and his eyes focused beyond them.

"Does he yet live?" the Wychlaran croaked, slipping free of Xan's support and dropping to her knees. Her ankle appeared to be twisted based on how she had been limping.

Imoen wasn't sure she wanted to answer; she still had no idea how these two had gotten captured in the first place. "Barely," she told her anyway, and Dynaheir groaned.

"This was my fault," the witch moaned, not even making any effort to cover her nakedness. "My fault."

Then Branwen was nearly done chanting, and Imoen remembered her instructions. The thief pushed an arm beneath the Red Wizard's head and chest to get him partially off the ground and onto her knee. Branwen's fingers dug agonizingly into the torn muscle of his pectoral and shoulder. The next healing spell rippled through him and he was too weak to even vocalize. "Yeh cen feed 'im a potion now!" the cleric called. "'E's low on blood."

Imoen pulled out a healing potion they had looted from Mulahey then. She bit the cork out and then drew up the bottle under Edwin's nose, even as she was sure he was on the verge of vomiting. "Drink!" she whispered to him. "Edwin, drink!" Brown eyes looked dazed up at her. Dynaheir crawled up beside her, shakily reaching out to grab the man's hair and jaw.

"Tilt his head back," the Wychlaran muttered weakly, "at such proper angle... one can force-feed..."

Imoen steadied Dynaheir's hold and then used her thumb and the edge of the bottle to part his lips and pour the healing liquid down his throat as carefully as she could. He sputtered slightly and then passively swallowed.

"Okay. Okay, there you go, you stupid peacock," she muttered reassuringly, finishing the potion and then chucking the bottle. The Thayvian moaned.

"A'i," he choked out, which in Mulhourandi meant, {My Arm.}

"It's going to be okay!" the thief told him, as her compatriots charged past her into battle. Xan stayed near them, and if she'd been looking Imoen would have seen him bravely holding off a half-ogre while Montaron worked to hamstring the thing. Dynaheir released Edwin's hair and crawled up beside where Branwen was tending to his arm. She reached forward to help the cleric hold tissue and nerves together, and it seemed despite the lack of any priestly leanings that the Rashemi woman knew a great deal about gross anatomy.

"Found another healing potion!" Montaron called, hurrying back to their side. As much as everyone disliked Edwin, watching a man get his arm pulled off by an ogre was a special sort of gruesome. It reminded a person they were only made of meat. The halfling passed the fresh potion to Imoen, who continued to hold Edwin upright as Branwen tried desperately to save life and limb.

"Drink," Imoen told him, bringing the potion to Edwin's lips.

"Wi akwa'imi a'i." Edwin's words were a weak and pathetic sound, and they meant simply: {I can't feel my arm.}

"We'll fix it," she promised, pushing the vial to his lips. "We'll fix it eventually, we'll fix it!" He fussed deliriously for a moment and then drank. His eyelids sank and, soon after drinking it, he passed out.

Branwen chanted and chanted. Jaheira returned to them just as the cleric expended the last of her prayers. The half-elf looked down with alarm at the spray of blood haloing Edwin's right side, the tears in his robes, and the mottled black bruises that were growing over his flesh. The arm was attached, but the jagged lines of separation were raw.

Aegis trotted up soon after, coated in a fresh layer of entrails and looking positively angry. Imoen couldn't hear any more sounds of battle. "I fucking hate ogres," she muttered and then stopped short when she saw Edwin's condition. "Branwen?"

"Ai have re'tached th' arym," Branwen replied slowly. "But Ai do nae know if Ai have saved it's functionality. We neyd a prieyst. If weh waiyt, the damage... it muy become peyrmanent."

"I'll carry him," Aegis said, and her voice brooked no argument. "We need to get back tonight." She looked at Jaheira, who seemed as if she wanted to advise that they instead take the half-ogre's camp for themselves that night. Without waiting for an argument, Aegis cast her gaze over the party members closest to herself. "We are going to gather the remaining wizards together, and keep them in the middle. Jaheira and Khalid, stay in the rear to keep an eye on the whole party. Have Montaron and Minsc take point. Imoen and Branwen need to stay on either side. Xan? Please support Dynaheir even if we are attacked. Get Garrick to help you while we're moving. And, Imoen? give Dynaheir your Wand of Lightning, and Xzar your Wand of Missiles." She turned her gaze solely back to Jaheira. "If we encounter anything, we have to fight it. We don't have the luxury of running in this condition. Pull out all the stops."

Their druid was quiet for a moment before nodding and turning to organize the others.

Aegis knelt and pulled off her cloak (which was actually Xzar's), throwing it over the injured Thayvian. She wrapped it about him and then, with Branwen's confirmation that doing so was safe, she carefully picked him off the ground and carried him as if he were nothing. "I've got him," she reassured the stressed-out trio who had labored to reattach his severed arm. "He's not even heavy. Let's get out of here. Urso? Scout ahead for me, please. Come back yipping up a storm if there's trouble."

Xan knelt and eased an arm around Dynaheir's back, helping her to her feet. She leaned heavily into him as Garrick pulled off his own cloak and clasped it around her shoulders for modesty. He took her opposite arm across his shoulders, although they all temporarily had to wait for Minsc to come up and assess her condition. Imoen distributed her wands and recovered her bow, knocking a flaming arrow for the road.

"They did WHAT!?" a Rashemi berserker was bellowing.

"Minsc!" Aegis called, realizing the man might insist on carrying her. "Dynaheir—and all of us—need you to lead the way. Without your steel, we're going to get eaten alive by worgs."

The man stood ramrod straight and considered this sudden, fierce demand for his best talents. His companions needed him! But... He looked to Dynaheir worriedly, and she shook her head. "When we are safe, thou can properly assess my condition and we can speak. I promise not to die on thee! It is as she says: We truly need thee to lead!"

He swallowed heavily and then collected up his greatsword once more and gave an understanding nod. "Minsc leads then," he agreed. "No more shall fall this night under his care! None but the enemy! Come, tiny halfling! With your eyes, Boo's wisdom, and my hugeness, we shall find the way!"

It was perhaps a testimony to how much the group dynamics had changed over the last month that Montaron willingly joined Minsc at the party front with little more than a wry quip about hamsters. This was, after all, the same halfling who had done nothing to help anyone during the party's last ogre-related injury and subsequent late-night return to civilization.

The change sure as hell wasn't because he liked Edwin.

Chapter Text

"I always thought only crazy old men believed in leeches."

Priest Nalin of Helm glanced at Imoen, blinking back the distraction of her for a moment before leaning over to gently distribute more of the black slugs about the raw and mending flesh of the injury. Edwin had survived the journey back to Nashkel, though by no means was he in good condition. He remained unconscious, and although Nalin's healing had put a flush of color back in his complexion, he was still pale and drained looking on the whole.

"Leeches are good for reattachin' a finger or more," Branwen confirmed the priest's wisdom. She was standing beside him with a tray of medical equipment, acting has his assistant at four in the morning, when all the more qualified persons were fast asleep. Nalin had swiftly mended Dynaheir's ankle, and then Minsc and Jaheira had helped her off to see if fresh clothing could be procured at the inn.

Imoen had cut the Thayvian's robes back from his chest so Nalin could tend the injury. She was now pulling her knife carefully down the side hem to reach the foot of the garment. Edwin was going to kill her for destroying his robes, but he was filthy and soaked in blood.

"I have brought blankets," Dynaheir called on her unexpected return. She came up to the group and draped one modestly over their unconscious wizard. Imoen shimmied the robe off from underneath. Decency was successfully preserved.

"So, leeches. Why are they good?" Imoen inquired. Branwen had almost forgotten the orginal conversation and hummed curiously before remembering.

"Severed parts don't give up living straight away," the cleric yawned. "But wounds try to close up to stop us from bleeding out. When you reattach a limb, leeches keep the blood flowing into the injured parts. Gods willing, the blood keeps them living and things heal."

"That's fascinating!" the thief murmured, as she had never been too interested in reading about the healing arts. The idea that leeches really were good for something was amazing on a dazed and sleepy mind.

"Helps stop lethal clots, too," muttered an exhausted older sister.

"Maybe you should head back to the inn?" Garrick suggested, looking up at Aegis in concern. When the ranger had stomped, blood-soaked, into the temple at around two in the morning, she'd given Priest Nalin quite an understandable fright. Now it appeared she remained out of a sense of duty.

"No, someone's gotta carry him back when you're done," Aegis said after a long and tired quiet. Garrick tried to persuade her further, but it appeared Aegis was out of words for the evening and lacked the ability to carry on the conversation either to disagree or yield. She remained in place.

"So, healing magic really always does need a bit of mundane sensibility to accompany it," Imoen speculated as she folded up the extracted robe and topped it with the torn-off sleeve. "But that restoration spell you used... Edwin will be able to use his arm, right?"

Nalien sighed. "No matter what magic I apply, the limb will be weak and sluggish for a number of days. Such a traumatic injury takes its toll. We will keep it bound in a sling while the body recovers. If after two weeks there is still weakness, I recommend a group of such means as your own to consult Kelddath Ormlyr at the Song of the Morning Temple near Beregost. No doubt there you will be able to find solutions to any lingering troubles."

The healer put away his tools for the leeches, and then bound loose, salved bandages around the raw tissue to protect it and facilitate Edwin's natural healing. Seeing this, Imoen fidgeted slightly. "Can you... when you're done, can you have a look at his leg?" she asked. The priest paused midway through taking a vial from Branwen's tray.

"What happened to his leg, then?" Nalin asked with the suspicious tone of an old man who had mended too many foolish youngsters in his day.

"He... he was in a cave-in and it got crushed a few days back," Imoen explained.

Aegis had almost forgotten about that and her mouth quirked in irritation. Another reason why fleeing blind through the darkness had been a bad call.

Nalin leveled a carefully nonjudgemental expression upon Imoen. "I see. So your wizard has a... previous history of adventure-oriented maimings?" he asked "Praytell, is this a matter of luck, or is it related to his character?"

"What? Oh. Well it tends to happen when he's too busy yelling at something to notice his surroundings," the thief noted thoughtfully.

"This was my fault," Dynaheir disagreed. "I stumbled in the darkness and twisted my ankle. He saw and came over to investigate. When I realized he was the only one nearby I panicked, and began to speak heatedly and suspiciously of his intentions. I sparked an argument, and we almost came to blows."

"Well, to be fair, he joined our party with the statement: 'I want to kill the Wychlaran.' You've clung remarkably well to your sanity for a woman traveling with a could-be assassin," Imoen giggled. 

Dynaheir sighed. "Our voices drew the attention of the half-ogres. But he faced them as a party member. He did not attempt to flee and leave me there; nor did he offer me to them in barter. He did nothing wrong, and on top of things he agreed to a plan to buy me time for a last recourse."

"So we know for certain we have a man who keeps his word on our hands," Aegis observed. "Even when his interests lie elsewhere; and even with a personality like a pit viper's."

"Peacock dragon's," Imoen muttered under her breath, because it was more accurate in her mind, but no one really heard her.

"Lawful then, and clever," the priest agreed, examining the leg and draping the blanket as modestly as he could. "But perhaps needing a good infusion of sense. This work on the leg was done well. By a druid, it seems? I shall assist its healing with a few spells of my own, and the result should be perfect return of functionality. Permit me a moment..."

"We should set a 'watch' this evenin' then," Branwen was saying. "Someone's gotta be on hand looking over him in case there is a problem."

Aegis groaned. Imoen giggled. "I'm not so tired," the violet girl told them. "Give me a coffee and some tarts and I bet I can stay up two or three hours! It's not like I got smacked around today. Worst that happened was I had to sit on Edwin when Mulahey charmed him. Oh that bastard, I'll get him for that muffin comment. When he's better, of course!"

Aegis wavered unsteadily on her feet, trying to think. Then she nodded, piecing sufficient thoughts together to arrive at reasonable conclusions: "Xan's an elf. Assuming he ate, bathed, and started his reverie already, he should finish in about three hours."

"That's assuming he chose to use the reverie," Dynaheir told her. "After what he has been through, and in his shoes, I would choose to actually sleep."

Branwen yawned hard. "I'll be sleeping like the mountains by then, but if you can give me a solid six hours of shut eye, I could relieve whoever's afterward. Mm. What's a reverie?"

"Elves don't always sleep like most other races. They can use meditation, particularly while on the road," Aegis explained. "You gals are sweethearts for volunteering. I'm going to just be down," Aegis laughed. "You'll be lucky if I'm up to drink by tomorrow night."

"I'll stay up with Imoen, since it's the hardest watch," Garrick said. "I'm not so tired either, and we can try and keep eachother awake. If Xan is still sleeping in a few hours, we can try rousing Khalid."

"I will relieve Branwen then," Dynaheir said. "I hope you feel you can trust me with a watch. I vow I shall not harm him in so doing. In the spirit of camaraderie, I feel I owe it to him. For all that I still know he will one day seek to do me harm."

Branwen put Nalin's remaining supplies away or into a tub for later cleansing as the priest instructed her, and then returned to clap the Wychlaran's shoulder in acknowledgement. "It's settled, then. We need to get back to the inn and rest. I hope our friends have purchased rooms for us already."

"I hope they've purchased baths," Aegis moaned. "For all that I might fall asleep in mine. I'm sure Xzar would wake me up; my lungs can't be half as valuable if they're filled with water." Nalin squinted at her. "I am not going to explain that statement."

"...Very well. Then for those of you who are going to be watching over him," Nalin began, "let me show you the potions and draughts I am sending you away with. This is an anti-coagulant. You need to force-feed him a teaspoon full come dawn to help prevent clots that might harm his lungs or heart while he recovers. These two, however..."

Aegis carried Edwin dutifully back to the inn. Jaheira had ensured everyone else was taken care of, bathed, fed, and already off to bed. The woman waited for them just inside the inn, and stood to reassure the tavern keeper when Aegis, who was intimidating quite a lot of people that evening, entered with Edwin.

"We rented out a noble suite for him," Jaheira told her. "Anyone looking after him should have room to breathe. Come."

Glad the druid hadn't held to frugality, and way too tired to say a word to her about her poor decisions earlier in the evening, Aegis followed Jaheira through the inn and up to the finer rooms in the rear of the tavern. The ranger settled their injured wizard down gently onto the sheets, and then saluted Imoen. The violet girl saluted back, hurrying up to ensure the Red Wziard was tucked in comfortably for the evening.

"Garrick, procure for us a great quantity of cake," Imoen giggled conspiratorially to the bard. "And the strongest coffee ye can find!"

"Aegis," Jaheira took her hand and pressed a key into her palm. "Your... roommate insisted on renting the royal suite. It was his coin, so..."

Grunt.

Aegis took the key and turned, leaving the room and heading to the far rear of the tavern. She found the door unlocked, and beyond it a large steaming ceramic tub peeked out from behind a curtain on her right. The ranger stepped into the room and eased the door shut behind her, staring dumbly at the hot water.

Thank the gods. But she had absolutely no idea how she was going to get her armor off. She was somewhat inclined to collapse on the floor where she stood, and sleep caked head to toe in gore. She'd deal with all the uncomfortable chafing and welts and aches in the morning. Yes...

Then she felt nimble fingers flitting about her. They took her pack and unclasped her belt, and they were releasing the straps of her hauberk before she even truly registered them. Looking over her shoulder, she found her necromancer still quite awake and dexterously relieving her of her armor. He didn't say anything to her, and it was a little impossible to tell if there were dark circled under his eyes owed to the presence of two very conspicuous black diamond tattoos. His face hovered near to hers, though he was focusing on other things than her eyes. He'd apparently bought a fresh tunic and trousers from the inn keeper. That made sense. Both his robes were dirty.

Aegis stared at him dumbly for a long while. I think this is the first time I've seen you in pants, she entertained, amused. She didn't even realize she'd started to smile until he glanced up and noticed her expression, and his brows furrowed together in confusion. "Why do you smile?" he asked at last, when her armor was off and he was loosing the final laces of her tunic.

She shook her head sleepily, watching him for a moment longer as he coaxed her to lift up her bruised and battered arms and pulled the tunic up over her head. "I adore you," Aegis told him sincerely as he pulled her over to sit temporarily on a footstool. She lifted a hand to his cheek and brushed disheveled hair out of his face. "Can I keep you?"

Xzar blinked and looked over at her, seemingly confused, his head inclined slightly to the side. Then, not really understand what she meant, he sat her down on the edge of the bath and knelt to pull off her boots.

"I meant..." she explained slowly, "will you stay with me?"

The necromancer lifted his eyes back to her, one hand supporting her calf and the other pinching her ankle as he prepared to draw off the boot. Again, he seemed puzzled, before at last tilting his head to the side. "Indefinitely?" he asked in realization of the query.

She nodded.

He hesitated, looking down at what he was doing, up at her face, and then down again. After a moment he pulled off the boot and the stocking, settled the foot down, and then moved to relieve the other. "Tomorrow will be a better time for laying plans."

Aegis felt a pang; comfort had suddenly been stolen midway from her stomach, replaced instead by anxious tingles. "Are you leaving, then?" she asked slowly. "Now that the mines..."

The wizard leaned forward and lowered his head, bestowing a feathery kiss lightly upon the side of her knee. He finished pulling off the boot, and then gently lowered her leg to the ground.

Aegis shuddered, stirred to silence by the realization she was in no condition to handle this conversation. Xzar was right. They'd talk tomorrow. He stood and leaned over to take her hands in his, and he pulled her to her feet. He steadied her, casually unlaced her trousers, and loosed them from her hips.

"Come bathe," he murmured affectionately. "I'll help with your hair."

The ranger looked at her wizard yearningly, though she was in no condition physically or mentally for passionate exploits. After a moment she nodded, and let him balance her as she stepped into the ceramic tub. The water was hot and seeped into her cuts. She hissed in relief and then sank down into it up to her nose, her eyes closing blissfully.

The necromancer chuckled and used a bowl to spoon water gently over her head. There were bottles available at the side of the tub, and he selected some air soap for her use. She tilted her head forward when he began massaging the liquid through her hair, rubbing over her scalp and sloughing off anything that didn't belong in her hair. She muttered something inarticulate and happy. He warned her before rinsing.

Leaning back against the tub, Aegis boiled away happily. A moment later she smelled something and opened her eyes a few degrees to behold that Xzar had procured a small pot of soup and that he was quite prepared to spoon feed her the whole thing. She was too tired to laugh.

"The first time you, me, an inn, and a bath were all in the same sentence, we were at the Friendly Arm," she muttered, and when the spoon came close she dutifully ate it. "That went quite differently. Though if memory serves, you were already quite interested in my underwear by that point."

"Continually insisted on touching." He shuddered and pulled a disturbed face. "Wanted me to remove... Never mind. Am accustomed now. And the words go in fewer circles in the head; divining intent is easier."

"I thought you were just loony. But when I was watching Xan, here and there he reminded me of you." She looked over at him. "You're not very good at showing sympathy, are you?" she teased. "You did the very last thing to him as you'd ever want anyone to do to you. And, Xzar, I find it hard to believe with your obsession with anatomy that you are somehow unaware an elf's ears are mildly erogenous."

Her wizard blinked at her for several moments. Then his eyes widened and he tensed slightly. He looked mildly horrified for a second or so before a restrained and laughing smiled twisted over his lips. "Oh dear," he giggled. "You're right. I forgot. I'm dreadful."

"You started petting him. Like he was a distressed kitten," she grinned. "You can't generalize kittens to people."

Xzar considered this. Then he blinked rapidly. "Kitten," he said abruptly. "Why do I suddenly remember a spotted cat? Ooh." He pinched briefly at the bridge of his nose. "No. I think I exercised a dangerously old memory. I should like to put it back away now, before it wakes up other ones."

"You've owned a cat?" Aegis exclaimed, thinking of her harem of strays back in Candlekeep. She hoped they were finding enough to eat.

He set down the soup and waved at her, eyes closed, clearly trying to repress or control something that he didn't like. As much as Aegis was amazed that she and her necromancer both appeared to have something so innocuous in common, she didn't prod further. After a moment of listening to him take slow, measured breaths, she leaned heavily into the side of the tub and craned over to kiss his cheek. That seemed to shock him back to the present, and he looked at her curiously.

"You're different," she observed. "You're hitting lucidity more frequently, and you're staying in it longer. Even when you're addled, you're more collected than before."

He smiled. "Prolonged exposure to Death has perhaps enhanced my clarity," the necromancer teased, picking the soup back up from where he had set it.

"Xzar, I'm too sleepy for riddles."

"Riddles? This wizard is lucky to have a companion who has begun prying riddles from ravings. He should have no one to talk to, otherwise. Could drive a person mad, that." He kissed her temple. "There is soap on your left. "

"Prolonged exposure to Death," Aegis muttered, reaching slowly over for the soap and drawing it down to her skin. She scrubbed thoughtfully over her arms. "Death's a name. You can't mean Cyric. But you only half mean me."

"Eat," he murmured gently, offering her another spoon full. She paused to eat it, and then continued washing.

When Imoen stumbled into the merchant suite Jaheira had specified, she wasn't sure if there were some type of procedure for signaling to a sleeping assassin that one's intentions were innocent.

Then she realized there was a clean bath ready, and though the water had cooled she determined that all the sounds associated with bathing might rouse Montaron close enough to consciousness that he wouldn't stab her. She settled down her things, stripped off her armor and clothing, stepped gingerly into the cool water, lathered up, and rinsed off. Once she'd removed unwanted layers of blood, sweat and dust (and lingering gravel from a cave-in), she wrung out her hair, toweled herself off, and then sleepily crawled into bed.

Her own side of the bed was quite large enough for any human-sized individual to enjoy the space, but the water had been cold and so now Imoen was also cold. She shimmied up behind him on his side of the bed and touched his shoulder carefully. Montaron twitched slightly, but seemed to recognize who she was. Imoen snuggled up against his back, coiling around him.

He shifted slightly, accommodating her. "Nn. I see light. Wha' time's it?"

"Oh, about seven," the girl yawned, nuzzling into his hair. "Someone had to babysit the sleeping wizard."

"Eh? Heh. Yer an idiot, Pink."

"Oh?" Imoen smiled mischievously, running a hand down his hip.

"Double an idiot. Don't tease what ye can't follow up on," he chuckled. "Sleep yerself out. Won't wake ye."

She hummed happily into him, and was sleep in just a few minutes.

Xan was down for the count. A quick glance from two lock pick extraordinaries revealed to Garrick and Imoen that the elf would not be relieving them of watch duty that evening. The elf had a merchant suite and had managed to roll up in a cocoon of blankets in a way that nearly extracted a "D'awww" from Imoen's lips. He was sleeping hard. Blankets! Warm, clean, safe blankets! Who could resist the allure of white sheets after months in an underground dungeon?

Khalid had taken the second watch, and they found him to be remarkably alert even after such a long day, a forced march, and only five hours of sleep. One supposed he might have been a soldier at one point in his life. He listened carefully to the instructions Nalin had given them for Edwin's care, and then settled down to watch over the sleeping wizard.

Garrick and Branwen, like Dynaheir and Minsc, were sharing peasant suites to take advantage of co-rooming in separate beds. Not that Garrick would have minded- well, that was a dream for another evening.

Chapter Text

Xzar woke to a scream. He was rather surprised to find it was not his own. It was Aegis's, and he sat up quickly to find her wide-eyed and gasping, her skin slicked with sweat. Her necromancer frowned, and reached over slowly to grasp one of her hands in both of his. Aegis jumped at the contact and turned her head, but her gaze seemed to look right through him.

"Are you hurt?"

"You will learn?" she muttered breathlessly. "That voice...! I thought I was rid of it! I thought-"

There came a knock at their door. "Aegis? Are thou fine?" it was Dynaheir. "I thought I heard something."

"I-I'm fine!" Aegis called. "I-It was a dream!" She stumbled out of bed, pulling away from Xzar and getting shakily to her feet. The necromancer frowned and reflected for a bit on what she'd said. She stumbled over to a stand where there was a pitcher of water and a basin. As he watched she poured some of the water and then quickly splashed it on to her face. Then she grabbed the stand, hanging her head and shivering as she gazed down at her reflection.

Xzar watched her, slowly crossing his legs and draping his forearms over his knees. "Little Death?" he called at last, and she flinched and huffed out a hard breath of air. He paused, curious at her reaction. What had slunk into her thoughts in the night? "You feel... harmed in some way," he said slowly. "What did you dream of?" He tilted his head to the side.

"It... it was just... it was a bad nightmare," she grimaced.

He looked upwards towards the ceiling, his forehead wrinkling as he thought back. He murmured numbers under his breath, and then looked back at her. "I remember you telling me you used to nightmare about friends dying. Was this a dream of that nature?"

"Xzar..." she muttered in a prohibitory tone. "I don't want to talk about this."

The necromancer frowned petulantly, confused. "I know. You never do." Then he stood quickly, easing off of the bed to approach her. "You are staring at your face," he realized suddenly. A little pang of worry crept up in his stomach. "Are you afraid you do not recognize it?"

Aegis looked up at him, and Xzar thought her exceptional even while terrified. Her cheekbones were high and her face was oval-shaped with a strong chin. Her eyes, though usually heavy lidded, were accentuated further by the dark pigment of exhaustion. He observed that her hair had curled slightly as it had dried. It was a very brilliant shade of yellow, and he considered that her mother may have had Northeim blood, the same as Branwen.

"I..." she began slowly, "I dreamed I was underground, with an ocean of bones laid out in mine cart caskets. I dreamed of killing Mulahey a second time, with a dagger of bone. Only I wasn't willing to do it, so the dagger killed me instead."

Xzar's eyes widened in surprise. "You mentioned a voice," he exclaimed, his speech flowing dramatically with the force of his excitement. "That was the first thing you said on waking. You spoke as if the voice were the most upsetting component of the dream. Whose voice was it?"

Aegis stared at him with her lips parted, as if distraught. He stepped backwards, checking himself against the clear lines of distress he saw entrenched in her body and throttling down on the urge to giggle. "I don't know," she answered him after a few seconds had past. "It's a familiar voice, but I've never heard it from anyone. It came up through my blood and bones like it was part of me..." She rubbed her shoulders, standing upright and looking down with a frown at the basin.

"I suppose it did not tell you things you liked to hear?" he said more tactfully, and more in control of his pitching.

"He chastised me like an unloving tutor who was losing patience with a disobedient toddler." She stop chafing her shoulders. Then she dropped her arms and stood up straight, her eyes opening wide as if seeing a thousand different memories and conversations all at once. Her mouth opened and she took in a breath, but it was not to speak; it was to recite a cantor's words:

"The Lord of Murder shall perish," she murmured in pitch, and Xzar's face lit up in astonishment. "But in his death, he shall spawn a score of mortal progeny. Chaos will be sown from their passing. So sayeth the wise Alaundo."

The room was silent for a moment; he gaped at her in awe and admiration, not certain whether to laugh aloud or offer her a shoulder to lean on. After a long moment, he closed his mouth, lifted his hands, and clapped slowly and surely. Aegis turned to face him, a look of disbelieving horror on her face.

"Are you finally ready to talk about your dreamsss yet?" the necromancer asked her with saccharine, effeminate smugness; leaning forward with his hands on his hips and a wide grin. "Or am I still crazy-crazy? Hehe."

"Bhaal?" Aegis sputtered. "My father was Bhaal? That voice in my dreams is The God of Death?"

"Was. He was slain, after all. I see you are not entirely comfortable with this revelation, but seeing as I've been saying it outright to your face for over a month, I cannot help but feel a glowing sense of vindication. Ha! I want to say. Ha, see, I am not mad!"

"You are absolutely, utterly, and irrevocably mad," she whispered to him. "I'm one of the creatures Alaundo prophesied? A bringer of slaughter and discord?" She turned slowly, her face drawn in numb horror as she looked around their mundane bedroom, her eyes flitting over possessions like backpacks, armor, blankets, curtains, rugs.

"Well. Yes," he admitted. "On both counts. But as for the madness, I suppose I am less so than..." The necromancer was finally registering her expression, and his voice trailed off. He pressed his lips together, watching her with puzzled concern once more. Aegis did not appear to be taking the revelation well. "Where did you hear that stanza?"

"Candlkeep was founded by Alaundo," Aegis muttered. "Cantors recited his prophecies daily. The opening Bhaalspawn prophecy was the one they were chanting when I met up with Gorion to leave..."

"Well that was timely irony," Xzar noted. "... You do not look like you feel well. Do you want to sit down?"

"You knew..." Aegis realized. "The whole time I've been with you, you've known." She looked at him, her eyes narrowing in thought. "You told me I was a bloodthirsty murderer within two days of meeting me. When we nearly broke up the party, you were the first one to rejoin me and Imoen. You refrained from infighting. You didn't try and kill Jaheira over the ghoul, even though you had the chance and provocation. All that time I thought you were fond of me, you were keeping good standing in the group..." Xzar blinked rapidly, straightening up at her words. "...so you could watch me?"

"Yes," he agreed with a hum, then realized perhaps that was not the answer he meant. "No! Both. Can it be both?"

Aegis stepped back from him, shaking her head, confused and overwhelmed. She felt revulsion, numbness, anxiety, denial, anguish, betrayal, and a thousand other things she could barely name! "I-I've slept with you," she began. "But I... I don't know anything even about you. And the things people have said about what...and the things you've said yourself... You said... you said that I was one of many, that your employers—your master—had experimented on and killed one..." She backed up from him and lifted her hands to her face, and Xzar realized he'd underestimated the gravity of the situation.

She started muttering under her breath, and he was surprised to hear his own words from several different occasions reflected back at him! "There's something dark in you Candlekeep girl; Something dark, which loves to kill. You are Death. You feel it in every moment, you feel the pulse of everything around you, the rush of life, the thrill of danger, the impending doom of the heartbeat. You are a godling, you are no goodly nature childe. Worry about Death. Prolonged exposure to Death."

Had she collected an imprint of everything he'd ever said? Why? Hadn't she thought of them as ravings? He felt an unsettling and almost flattered sensation in the pit of his stomach. He was not used to being listened to, and he was certainly not used to this strange reversal where someone else was speaking backwards and he himself felt straightforward! Now slightly alarmed, he tried to step forward to touch her.

Aegis shrunk back from his touch. "Don't- Don't touch-" Xzar blinked in surprise, closing his hand midair and hesitantly retracting it a few inches. He tilted his head to the side. She swallowed hard. "When you leave... are you reporting to the Zhentarium about Nashkel Mines... Or about me?"

"Nashkel," Xzar answered unhesitatingly, though he was somewhat unnerved by her acknowledgement of his allegiance. "From them you remain a secret."

"One shared with whom?" she asked cannily. "The Zhentarium is overrun with Cyrites, whom you hate. Cyric, the new God of Murder- What do you want?"

The necromancer felt a helpless panic rise up in him to match his lover's own. Aegis had never feared him before, and the sound of disgust in her voice when she said 'Zhentarium' was so unnatural on her tongue that it set off warning bells in parts of him he hadn't known he'd possessed. "Want? The Little Death is suspicious?" he muttered anxiously. "This wizard has never been anything but forthright. He has told her he wants nothing."

"S-stop calling me that!"

"Why did the Little Death stare at the water so?" the madman asked of himself rapidly, dissolving inward frantically to look for answers and solutions. "Could she not tell the reflection remained the same? What frightening things did she see in slumber?"

"Xzar!"

"There was harmony in the dichotomy; if harpish; does she not see it? Leafy mask and bloody skull. This was yielded to her; it did not make sense but it was yielded and the old harper credited. Revulsion? Truly? Now? Cruel. No. Misattribution. How to redirect? Candidness? This wizard doesn't know, those parts of him are broken..." He paused, lifting his hands to his temples as if in pain. "The words are so entangled."

"I need my own room," Aegis muttered, feeling as if she were going to faint and trembling from head to toe.

Xzar suddenly lifted his head to her, eyes a fierce and vibrant green. He seemed to only vaguely register what she had said but then he bolted past her before she could so much as turn around. Twisting stiffly about, Aegis saw that he'd pounced on her traveling things and was rummaging through the clothing.

"What are you-"

He stood then, and came back to her in the same way as he had gone. He reached out and grabbed her arm firmly, even as her skin prickled and she pulled tentatively backwards. He held her palm up in his hand and deposited something there. Then he retreated back a few steps, watching her like a wary animal. Aegis looked baffled from him down to her hand, lifting up whatever he'd given her to see. It was soft and- she went very still when she realized what she was holding. He had given her a silver lock of hair.

"Byatskhan Moratuk," Xzar said in that pure low tenor, all unnatural dramatics stripped from it. She lifted her gaze baffled to the observant wizard. "Death is in your bones. As you cannot escape your bones except by dying, I must tell you it would be ill advised to fight them."

"Why did you hand me this, if you believe I'm supposed to dissolve into some sort mindless killer?"

He glared at her very intensely, almost as if angry, but his voice remained calm and pure: "Which father do you trust to know what's best for you?"

Aegis looked uncertainly at the lock of hair and then back at Xzar. He nodded in agreement.

"Then pay the other one no mind. He wants you to mimic him so he can shape you into his image, or perhaps into a vessel to receive him. Even if you enjoyed malice significantly more than you do, I wouldn't advise participating in anything involving bone daggers."

The ranger shifted her weight, her fingers slowly closing around the silver hair. Her throat was tight, and she looked away. "W... What do you want from-?"

"Aegis." That was his fierce but solemn interruption. Aegis stiffened, staring vacantly and listening as he passed her name through his rough Moonsea accent. It sounded akin to 'Ai-juss.' He paused a moment, and then said: "I want Aegis. The bizarre heroine who picks up stray ruffians and madmen on the road and calls them fascinating. Her."

The ranger turned back around to look at him with a startled expression. He stood there with his head cocked slightly to the side, his hands slack against his thighs, and his eyes narrowed. He gazed penetratingly at her face. She swallowed dryly.

"I cannot tell you that it is outside my power to hurt you," the necromancer continued in the same voice after a moment, and the most bizarre attribute of how he was now presenting himself was that he did not gesticulate, "or to betray you, even. But I don't want to, because it's you. Here and now, it is my intention to help Aegis." He lowered his head almost defensively, but his eyes did not leave her. "Do you believe me?"

She almost seemed to do a double take; as if she had only just registered it was him standing in front of her, and not some stranger. Her eyes dropped to look him up and down. When her gaze reached his face again it lingered there, and he could almost feel her tracing over the uncanny shapes of his tattoos and the disheveled state of his hair. Was she judging him? At last realizing the ugly wholeness of what she had done? He was not a handsome man. He never had been, and a lifetime of abuse, eccentricity, and neglect had done his appearance few favors.

But her posture melted slightly at the sight of him; that was the only way to describe it. Her spine coiled more naturally, her shoulder blades eased backwards, and knots unwound themselves deep within her muscles. She stepped towards him suddenly, and the sight of her doing so was beautiful. Whatever instinctive need this satisfied, it had long been shattered within him. The broken parts which remained were exultant nonetheless. He lifted his head to rack her face as she came up to stand directly in front of him.

He was only a few inches shorter, though Aegis easily weighed twice what he did, and they could look each other straight in the eyes. She reached out to touch him almost hesitantly. Then she flinched as if confronted with a poignant onion, her eyes narrowing and liquid shining in the ducts and along the water lines. Her mouth trembled.

No.

Protection from Evil. Rebuked.

He stepped into her, slipping one arm around her back and another around the back of her head. She yielded to him, burying her face in his shoulder as the first sob rippled through her. His fingers dug into the flesh of her back, and he nuzzled his face into the chaotic falls of yellow hair, his fingers clenching tightly in the blonde curls. He felt the second sob ripple through her, and then the third.

Xzar hummed in protest and then began murmuring in harsher dialects of Thari so that she would not understand. He was certain he lacked the vocabulary to reassure her, but perhaps his tone carried the emotions he intellectually lacked recognition of. Singular sobs dissolved into a flow of traumatized grieving.

"Aegis," he murmured, and when she hugged him tighter he wondered if she might like the sound of her name on his lips. "Aegis... bi khün tölkhömaniig bashror."

"What language is that?" she mumbled thickly past a throat clogged with phlegm and tears.

The necromancer considered the question, stroking through her hair. "Auld Thari," he said, as if the answer surprised him. "The language from which was built Zhentarim Argot."

"I... I thought that was... a dead language. A trade language. Little more than bits of code, now," she asked, glad for the distraction from the omnipresent heaviness of what she'd just learned.

"It is. The definition of words are worth a pretty penny each to the right buyers. You won't sell me out to Jaheira, will you?" He pouted playfully.

Aegis half laughed, half coughed. She rubbed her face into him. "You just used it fluently. For sentences."

"Oh? If you think wizards only chase practical knowledge, Byatskhan Moratuk, I think I shall need to send you back to Candlekeep for more intensive study, as you clearly learned nothing during your last stay," he chastised in a happy purr.

Aegis hugged him crushingly tight to her then, such that he winced and he was glad for the extra padding of her naked bosom. He rubbed firmly along the side of her spine with thumb and forefinger. "The reflection's the same," she whispered. "I still remember what you smell like. And you... you're just... you're still the madman who introduced himself by saying he'd been waiting for a bear to maul me so he could have my liver."

"What? No, don't be silly," He waved a hand in the air. "I distinctly remember introducing myself by bribing you with a healing potion, Little Death, and then trying to extort passage to Nashkel. Only then did I mention livers. I think your memory has holes in it, you know." The clarity was fading, but what remained behind was still remarkably functional.

Aegis sighed softly. The world was still too big when she thought about it, but here safe in the realm of playful banner, things were manageable: "Said the kettle to the pot."

"You- Oh. Oh! You know, I suddenly remember that's an idiom." He thought for a moment. "When you feel better, you need to go back to sleep. You are nearly hysterical. Then later... we will talk? About everything?"

She nodded into him. "Everything."

"I have a lot to say. It may not all come out clearly at once... but I shall try."

"I know."

Chapter Text

When Imoen woke up, Montaron was sitting beside her in tunic and leggings. He had his armor draped over his thigh and he was repairing it patiently, stitch by stitch and stud by stud. She watched him for a moment from where she'd burrowed under the pillows. She wondered if he'd be leaving the group with Xzar now that the mines had been dealt with. She'd miss him, Imoen realized, but her place was with Aegis.

"Yer breathin's not shallow enough for ye ta be sleepin'."

"Can that be faked?" she asked him, muffled slightly by the pillows.

He considered. "With a lot of patience for th' learnin'? Sure."

"I shall make this my next quest," she decided, pushing pilllows off her head and reaching sleepily out to put an arm around him. He glanced down at her, pulling his work up from under her arm and settling it down again.

"Ye seem ta be under the mistakin' impression I'm for cuddlin', Pink."

"You rented a room with one bed, and you aren't sitting on the chair, so your argument is invalid," she yawned. "You shall fear the wrath of all my snuggles. And then more. Mental ones. With sparkles. Mn."

"So it's a crime ta want ta kick me feet up?"

"Terrible crime. Punishments. Won't let the fish heads know. Promise. Zz."

The halfling lifted a brow but then reached over beside himself and passed his hand through her hair. Then he went thoughtfully back to mending the armor. Imoen dozed for awhile before he spoke again. "Bought somethin' for ye."

She opened an eye and then sleepily pushed herself up on her elbow. "What sort of something?" He gestured at the foot of the bed. Imoen looked and then sat up in surprise and reached forward to pick up a neatly folded set of brigandine armor. She lifted it up to have a good look at it and then quickly scrambled out of bed. She dug a tunic out of her pack, and shimmied it on quickly over her head.

Montaron paused mid-stitch to observe a splendidly plump buttocks and a fine, voluptuous set of legs. She didn't put on any pants, though the tunic was long enough to hide what mattered. Immediately afterwards she started donning the brigandine, tightening the straps and buckles for the very first time.

"Had te guess yer size," he said offhandedly, but his eyes glinted with satisfaction when he saw that it fit.

"I didn't realize it would be this flexible!" Imoen cooed, looking at herself and feeling carefully over the fresh leather. Was it expensive?"

"Let's say yer coin purse is a wee bit lighter this morning," the halfling purred.

"My-!?" She spun towards him in alarm. "Montaron! You nasty, nasty, little-!"

He grinned, and went back to mending his armor. "Don't raise a stink, ye needed better'n what ye had, and ye know it."

Imoen scowled irritably. Then she quickly rummaged through her things to determine the extent of the damage Montaron's 'present' had done to her shinys. She counted her gemstones and coins and then gave a big dramatic sigh and returned to the bed, flopping on it unhappily. "I hate you," she said up to him. "You're eeeeevvillll."

"Yer a damn sight less attractive ta arrows," he told her matter-of-factly. "If yer gonna run into battle like an idiot drawin' attention from everyone and their mother, ye at least need decent gear. Now stop whinin' and leave me ta the mendin'."

"Poopy face," she complained, and then reached over her head to grab his ankles. Montaron grunted in surprise when she tugged him flat onto his back, pulling his knees level with her shoulders.

"Imoen!" he warned irritably, then growled when she rolled onto her stomach and clambered up to rest her elbows on either side of his hips.

"Yeesss?" she asked, leaning her chin on her hands.

"Can't ye bother someone else?!" he snarled, propping himself up. "I'm doin' summat! Get some breakfast, or-"

"So the thing suddenly prodding me in the sternum is... absolutely and definitely your short... sword?"

"Hngh." The sound was guttural and bitter, as if she had offended him in some way. She tilted her head to the side.

"You're worried about me," she realized.

"Yer daft, kid," he answered. "I told ye a thousand times we ain't never shoulda gone o'er that bridge the first time; and ye go and tempt fate four times! It coulda been me or anyone else that arrow hit, but it was yerself! Yer lucky I stopped for ye at all! Another thief might not be so thoughtful, sleeping with ye or no!"

She frowned at him.

"Ye dived inta that cave-in like fool, and then when the same stupid wizard talks himself into a second early grave and the witch bint is bein' groped, ye march straight into th' camp playin' hero. Ya ain't yer sister, kid! Ya ain't wearing the same armor, and ye've not the same resilience! Ye keep doin' shit like this, and ye will die."

"You are not allowed to call me kid anymore!" Imoen protested. "We had a deal, Monty!"

"It's what ye are, Pink," he sneered at her. "A foolish, silly, dumb kid."

"Montaron!" she disputed, propping herself up on both hands. "You were stitching armor right beside my head! Like you didn't have anywhere else in the world to sit! You don't have to be a bastard just to counterbalance liking me!"

"Yer a fuckin' dreamer, kid, and I ain't gonna sit here and not chew you out somethin' awful for being a fool; not when I've gone to all th' trouble of givin' two shits what happens ta ye."

Her eyes narrowed. She glared at him for a moment and then crawled forward over top of him, bringing her face close enough to him that she could feel his breath on her face. She swayed slightly as she moved. "Montaron," she grumbled. "Are two shits worth enough that you can bite back on one word?"

The halfling fidgeted slightly, grabbing her sides as she moved and keeping his eyes on her face, his upper lip curling in a partial sneer. "That gonna be what the card ye pull whene'er ye want me ta do somethin'?" he growled. "I've risked me neck for ye, and I don't particularly like how frequently ye put yers on the line."

"Half the time that was for other people!" Imoen argued. "I'd do the same for anyone!"

"Why? Because it's the 'right' thing? Fine, ye saved the damn elf. Ye didn't know he existed before ye crossed the bridge the first time, o' course. And that weren't all ye did! If ye were dyin' in yer own blood and he had but one healing potion in hand, that Red Wizard wouldn't give it to ye," the halfling snapped. "Ain't no law that says he'll e'er pay ye back! Pick yer risks more clever-like, Pink!"

"You don't have to risk yourself for me," she told him. "But if you choose to, I still won't give you the right to tell me how I ought to behave. I am not your kid. I don't even let my dad tell how to be! So if you can't handle the burden of caring what happens to me, walk away. I spent enough of my life in a birdcage!"

"That's not-!" he cut off with a growl, disagreeing with her almost vehemently, but lacking the quickness of tongue to argue with her. "Yer a fool, Pink!"

"Fine! Call me a fool, and a goose, and an idiot. I accept that. I accept all the lectures, blah blah blah, some of it will sink in eventually! But don't call me kid." She tilted her head to the side, still watching his face. "Now, should I be going to breakfast, half man, or are you going to take advantage of the fact that I'm not wearing any pants? Because I've been wondering..."

He grimaced, eyeing her almost distrustfully. Then with an irritated sigh, he shifted his hands to the center of her chest to find the clasps of her brigandine. "Think I already regret this," he sneered bitterly, pulling one shoulder roughly off and then the other. Imoen fronwed and then caught his head in her hands once both her arms were free. He gave her an annoyed look and then frowned when her thumbs ran firmly over his temples and her fingernails scratched in circular patterns through the back of his hair. "What are ye...?"

Imoen smiled when his eyes closed and his voice trailed off. Her thumb rubbed along the upper lobes and pointed tips of her ears, her fingers kneading and scratching gently up the back of his skull and then down to knotted muscle at the base of his neck. She made a triumphant little hum in the back of her throat and kissed his mouth gently before continuing, paying special attention to the ears and the back of the neck. Dark eyes opened slightly, looking back up at her with more curiosity and less malice. He smirked a little.

"I'll never understand ye."

"Hehehe! Nope, Never."

He shifted his hands along her sides to touch her, and he was gentle. She continued her more tender ministrations for a bit, before settling her arms shakily down on either side of him.

"Mm. Is it okay I'm on top...?"

"Is it okay you're-!?" he sputtered, looking at her in disbelief for a moment before realizing what she was asking and laughing. "Oi! Yes, Pink. Top is fine. Better'n fine. Ye ain't gonna crush the halfling even with that enormous tallfolk ass o' yers." He winked as she scowled at him. "Promise."

"You're finally awake!" Branwen laughed, watching the exhausted looking elf as he shuffled into the main room. "Did you sleep well?"

"Too well," the elf said, rubbing sleep from his face. "I was too tired to dream, at least."

Branwen grinned, standing up and pulling out a chair for him. The elf sat down with a quiet thank you, and continued to rub his face. He looked up in surprise when Branwen returned carrying a bowl of soup. "It's vegetable," she told him, settling the bowl down and offering him a spoon. "No pork broth or anything, I checked."

"I'm... I'm not hungry."

"No? Good! Cause you've fifteen pounds to gain, if I remember correctly. And if yer not hungry, why, that's surely the best time to gain them."

Xan blinked at her quietly a moment and then looked down at the food. Then he sighed dramatically and set to stirring and poking at it.

"Give it a bite or two," she suggested, patting his shoulder and taking her seat beside him. "Might help start the stomach to growling."

Jaheira smiled just a little at the war cleric's sudden maternal streak. It was slightly strange to seeing an elf of several centuries in age being tutted about by an overzealous Northeimer, but perhaps the innocuous attention was exactly what Xan needed. He didn't seem to mind her, at least. "Did our... smart-mouthed wizard... survive his ordeal last night?" the enchanter asked, blowing on a spoonful of soup.

"Aye, he's a tough one for a wizard," Branwen explained. "He hasn't woken up yet, though I don't imagine he'll shower us with gratitude when he does. But you know, Dynaheir explained he'd acted honorably that night, and kept to his word. I might want to bash his head in now and then, but a man who puts aside his problems to remain steadfast in danger... I can tolerate that kind of man. A little." She thought for a moment. "You handled that sword admirably last night, though you looked like a stiff wind could snap you like a twig."

Xan paused over his next spoonful. "An ironic and dangerous arrangement, I know, for a wizard to enter combat with a sword. It is only by my enchantments that I've avoided numerous a terrible maiming. I assume it will eventually be the death of me, when some tottering child tosses a dispel on me."

"You think so, do you? I'd wager you're more likely to felled by a mild case of dysentery."

"Oh joy. I shall think of that when I am enumerating possibilities for the morrow at nights."

Branwen laughed and gave him a hearty pat that nearly sent hot soup flying everywhere. "Well if you're going to be glum all the time, I'm sure as hell going to tease you about it! Try a smile, won't you?"

Xan looked up at her, and then gave the most pathetic smile she had ever seen.

"That's a grimace, lad. If that's the best you've got, I'm gonna be disappointed."

"Yes, well, not all elves can frolic from dawn till dusk," he muttered. "Some of us are there for counterbalance."

"And you're going to balance them all out on you're own, are you? You don't have to be happy all the time, you know. But here and there, when you're with friends and there aren't any monsters coming at you... When you've got a nice bowl of food and a warm fire, and a pillow to lay you're head... I wager for that's a good time to be happy."

"I shall try," he said with great heaviness.

"Good! Cause you've got a dance with me, Imoen, and every girl in Nashkel come evening time when the bards start playing! Already asked around for ya."

Xan looked at her in horror. Branwen bursted out laughing, and he prayed to the gods she was joking.

When Aegis finally crawled out from her room, it was already long past noon. She looked like she had been awake for some time, though her eyes had a far away look that made it seem as if she were thinking about a great many things. She settled down at the party's table, and Xzar flit off to order food for both of them. He came back with a pint of ale for her and then leaned over and kissed her on the cheek as he settled it down. Jaheira bristled slightly. For all that they'd shared a bedroll, and for all that they'd clearly spent numerous intimate evenings together, she rarely was forced to witness open, casual affection between them.

Xzar settled down in the seat beside her, but turned in it and looped one of his arms around her elbow, and the two talked in quiet voices to one another.

"A-are you s-sure about our c-course of action?" Khalid asked of his wife.

"She will be fine. Better than fine," Jaheira admitted, and it was difficult for her. "But let us make sure we know what the Zhents plan. I'm not leaving her alone with that monster. If we are incredibly lucky, this infatuation is about to finally end." She looked at Khalid. "That first night you found them sharing a palette in camp... why didn't you wake her for watch? Why didn't you talk to her about the dangers, about him?"

Her husband shifted slightly. "It seemed... i-improper," he confessed. "I-it was h-her business."

"And now what do you think?"

"P-perhaps I was lulled b-by his o-oafishness. H-he did not s-seem so d-dangerous... then." He looked back at her. "B-but, J-jaheira... eh... I d-do not believe he means her h-harm. E-even to s-spite us."

"That he has her ear should be worry enough. The little tilts in judgement he makes can turn this into a tragedy. She's already willing to overlook so much. It's not much of a stretch to get her to overlook more."

Khalid frowned. "Sh-she is still G-gorion's child. Jaheira... I d-don't f-feel comfortable leaving her."

"Right now she doesn't want our guidance, Khalid, especially mine. And... I must go at least. If someone doesn't investigate this, no one will. I must seek wisdom beyond our own. You know, you can stay until I am able to return, Khalid."

"Where you go, I-I go, my love." He squeezed her arm gently. She smiled at him then and he did lean over to kiss her cheek, though the two were not typically affectionate in public.

"Awww," Imoen cooed, hopping out from the hallway and still toweling off her hair. "Da cyute married couple is kisssssing! Muah muah muah!" Khalid turned scarlet and retreated into his own chair, laughing. "Noo! Noo it was so cyute! D'awww. Morning Aegis! Morning Branwen! Morning Xan- GASP! You brushed your hair!"

Imoen pounced on the elf, who was lucky he had more or less finished eating as he would surely have sent soup flying everywhere. "Eee!" she squealed, running her fingers gently through his hair. "It's completely straight! Xan, let me braid it! Please let me braid it? Let me, let me, let me, let me!"

"Is it entirely necessary that you talk like that?" the enchanter asked, dismayed.

"Oh my goodness, your hair is beautiful!" the violet girl exclaimed, picking hair up and letting it drip through her fingers. It was very long. "Xaannnn," she whined. "Pleasseee! Let me braaaiddd itttt!"

"Oh, very well," he moaned. "If you must..."

"Ooh! I can help!" Branwen agreed, leaning over and grabbing a few locks.

Khalid registered Xan looked like someone had stabbed him. "I-I don't t-think-!"

"I've got beads and feathers!" Aegis proclaimed, ruffling Xzar's hair and then jumping to her feet, the far-off look suddenly erased from her features. "Hold on, let me get them! Do really thin braids, no more than a few strands!"

"I want to help!" the necromancer exclaimed, and hurried after her. Xan's 'No, not-!' was lost entirely beneath two giggling women. Garrick peered over to see what the trouble was, took a moment to conclude Xan was turning red from embarrassment instead of gray in molested horror, and then hopped over to assist.

When Dynaheir walked in she found Xan's soup forgotten. The elf was resting with his chin on his forearms and his elbows on the table, a mortified expression on his face as the three women and two men arrayed behind him chittered like squirrels and braided his hair.

"How did this happen?" The Rashemi woman wondered. One of the people braiding Xan's hair was Xzar, who was chastising Branwen on her technique for feather weaving. (No, no, see? You have to tuck the point in just so! See? Augh, that is so barbaric!)

"Dynaheir! Thank goodness you are here! His hair is too much! We need all the hands we can get and Jaheira is being a sour puss! Help!"

Dynaheir cast a baffled look around the room to see Jaheira and Khalid both wearing alarmed expressions: Alarmed, indignant, horrified, and amused. They were both trying to figure out whether Xan needed help, but were disinclined to move unless he asked for it. Dynaheir turned her gaze to the elf, who was looking up at her with a resigned expression, too morose to plead for rescue. She pressed her lips together, but then couldn't help but smile. "Very well," she laughed. "But when we are done, someone owes him an apology for this uncivilized banditry of ours."

"We are thugs and ruffians," Imoen wailed. "Unworthy of the beautiful hair! But it calls to us, it does!"

"And someone needs to take the next watch on Edwin."

"I will do it," Jaheira sighed, climbing to her feet. "Lest one of you foolish children decide to braid his hair and we all end up on fire... Where is Montaron, by the way?"

"Napping," Imoen answered mischievously, and Jaheira didn't ask for an elaboration.

It had been several hours since the braiding episode, and Xan still wasn't talking to anyone. Minsc had complimented him on his hair upon seeing it, and Xan had just stared miserably at his bottle of wine. A little concerned they'd gone overboard, the girls had given him his space for awhile (And Aegis dragged Xzar away).

Branwen remained seated beside him, but her gaze was focused on Aegis and Minsc, who were arm wrestling across the table. Apparently there had been some debate during the cave-in over which of them was stronger. For the moment, the competition looked to be neck and neck.

Imoen, who could not much abide anyone looking unhappy, eventually slipped into the chair on Xan's other side. "Hello Gloomy," she said. "Did we mess up that badly?"

The elf looked at her, but said nothing. When they had finished braiding Xan's hair, they had put those braids into a larger plait and tied it off with a violet ribbon (Xzar had selected the color). The enchanter was now sporting the most exquisitely manicured head of hair in all of the Sword Coast. He'd had so many feathers neatly and woven into the hair that he resembled an avariel or fae, and beads beyond counting for color. A nymph would have been jealous of that hair.

Imoen leaned her elbow on the table and propped her chin up against her knuckles. "When I met you, you didn't ask me for water. When we rescued you, you didn't ask for water. It took someone actually handing you water for anyone to realize you were dehydrated. It's hard for other people to figure out what you need when you don't talk to them."

He held her gaze for a moment and then looked back at his wine. Still nothing. No needs communicated.

"So... do you know when you plan to head back to Evereska?"

He looked at her quickly, surprised she knew his origins. Imoen grinned.

"You and your party came through the town, silly, and everyone remembered you. Elves wearing gray cloaks, said they were from Evereska. I bet you're very ready to go home."

Xan considered this for a moment. Then he shook his head, and finally spoke: "My task was to investigate the political turmoil on the Sword Coast. The operation at Nashkel is connected to the bandits, but we still don't know how or why. Therefore, my mission is incomplete. And though the rest of my party has fallen... I must find a way to complete our investigation." He turned back to his wine and closed his eyes. "Doomed as the endeavor now is."

Imoen perked up. "Stay with us," she said immediately.

"Your interest was the mines," he answered, rubbing his forehead. "Jaheira and Khalid are already talking about departing. I've overheard the others discussing where to go next..." he trailed off when he realized Imoen had gone tense. He glanced at her.

"Jaheira and Khalid are going to leave the party?" Imoen asked in disbelief. "But-!" Then she thought about Aegis and the ways in which she had chewed out Jaheira to hell and back while in the mines. The look she'd given the druid when Edwin and Dynaheir had gone missing had been withering indeed. "Okay, I don't know about everyone else. But Aegis and I will go with you. Hands down. We're adventuring, and all the signs say 'bandit camp is next.'"

"That's... generous. But I would not seek your help on this kind of quest. I am certain you have business more immediately relevant to yourselves, or even your own home to return to."

"No, Xan, we don't," Imoen said, reaching out and placing a hand on his arm. "The first day they were out on the road, Aegis's father was slaughtered in an ambush by a menacing armored man who demanded he 'hand over his ward.' We have no idea who he is. Our home, the place we lived and where my dad still lives, is Candlekeep. Now that we're adults and don't have his help, we can't even get in without a book as rare as your Moonblade."

Cyan eyes widened appreciatively.

"We can't go home, and every time we stop in a town Aegis gets jumped by assassins. We're trying to help with the political problems in the region in the hopes the guy after her makes a mistake and we can figure out what's going on. We're also trying very hard to stay on the road, surrounded by a large adventuring party, and making money to improve our gear. "

"You're being hunted? And you still stopped to rescue a random stranger?" he asked her.

"This band is built of random strangers," she laughed. "And I can tell you right now that at least two of them are going to be investigating those bandits whether you travel with them or not. Now, do you feel it is responsible to leave them wandering around the wilderness on their own? They could get terribly hurt you know." She leaned near him and whispered conspiratorially, looking around the room "I hear tell neither of them has an ounce of sense in their heads! In fact, you could even say they're..."

She waited expectantly. Xan blinked at her. She raised her brows. He hesitated. "... Doomed?" he appended uncertainly.

Imoen grinned broadly. "Exactly. That."

"You would have us join ventures." He considered, lowering his eyes for a moment. Then he looked back at her face. "If I travel with you, I will expect you to be open and forthright with me and to inform me about yourselves and these assassins. Everything you know; anything I deem relevant. If you keep me in the dark, we're deservedly doomed."

"That's fair," the thief agreed, and then both girl and elf jumped when Minsc finally managed to bend Aegis's arm down to the table. It had not been an easy fight.

"Fuck!" the woman laughed, slapping the table and then pulling back her arm, shaking the kinks out of it. She took a big gulp of alcohol and slammed her mug down. "Best two out of three!"

"Ha!" Minsc agreed, and drank thirstily. "That's the spirit! You are a true warrior after the heart of my homeland!" Then he planted his elbow on the table once more, and the two reconvened their battle!

"Well, this is a little unnecessarily barbaric," Xan muttered, reorienting himself and shifting about in his chair.

"Good thing he's a barbarian," Imoen giggled. "So... are you still upset about the hair?" Cyan eyes darted to her. Imoen smiled. "Well you've got to tell me. Otherwise I might do it again one day!"

He shuddered and then reached behind him, and picked up the tail of the plait to look at it. "This took a lot of work," he said, realizing the whole of the labor for the first time.

Imoen smiled, and looked up to see Jaheira walking towards them. Apparently her 'watch' was done. Imoen thought she could keep an eye on Edwin for the next few hours. She looked back to Xan and gave him a little squeeze as she stood. "No one's going to hurt you. Least of all one of us," she promised him, and leaned over to kiss his temple. "No one's going to walk through Branwen, Aegis, and Jaheira to try!"

Xan watched her go thoughtfully as she skipped off to take Jaheira's place. The girl paused only briefly to deliver a mocking salute, and then broke out laughing and continued on her way. He was introspective for a moment, before looking over at Branwen. "For whatever it's worth," the cleric said, turning from the arm wrestling to smirk at him, "I think that bandit-hunting party I been hearing so much about could use a healer. You think they're recruiting, or do they find big ladies intimidating?"

Xan looked past her at Aegis, and then up at the amused Northeim woman. A very small smile tugged his lips. "I think a healer might improve their admittedly dismal chances."

Branwen smiled and gave him a smooch on the other temple. Xan made a face, but she only laughed. "Good to hear you've not stayed cross with me then! Cheers?" She held up her mug. Xan hesitated and then picked up his bottle. They toasted to the improbability of him finishing the wine without becoming ridiculously intoxicated.

SLAM. Aegis roared victoriously as a baffled Minsc tried to figure out what had just happened. He stared surprised at her for a moment, and then a hug grin broke out over his face, and he beamed like the sun. Both rangers were slicked with sweat, their faces ruddy and their arm muscles painfully overexerted. "Three out of three!" the tavern around them was shouting, having never seen such an exciting arm wrestling match in all of Nashkel's history. Party members were helping them work out shoulder kinks and cheering them on. "Three out of three!"

"Boo! This is the best sport Minsc has had since home!" Crack! "Ah! Better than home!"

"Ow! Xzar, watch where you- oof. Oh. Hey! I can feel my fingers again."

With heavy drinks and scandalously playful insults, the two settled in for the final round.

Chapter Text

SLAM. Everyone gasped, cheered, and roared in excitement. Minsc laughed big and loud, his face absolutely brimming with delight, even though Aegis had his arm bent backwards and his knuckles planted firmly on the table. She laughed back with equal happiness, not because she had won but because the competition had been another glorious celebration of their survival.

The tavern drank to the health of the party, and betting money was exchanged. Montaron won one hell of a payout, and Dynaheir lost a few coins. Both rangers had to roll and wrench their shoulders back into place. They slapped each-other on the backs and hugged.

"You are the stronger one!" Minsc told her. "You will be a great and famous warrior one day!"

"No," she laughed. "I won because I drew it out!"

"What do you mean?" he asked, taking a big drink. "You won!"

"I won because I asked for best three out of five!" she told him joyfully, clanking her mug against his when offered and then drinking steeply herself. "I have more stamina! You flattened me in round one. You are still stronger!"

"Ha! You are wise like an owl and clever like a fox! Boo and Minsc are both honored to follow you with the feisty one!"

Imoen returned near the hour everyone else was going to bed, switching off with Garrick for watch over their downed wizard. Montaron caught up with her and passed her a bundle of coins. Imoen hesitated in accepting it as she couldn't remember any bet she had going with him. Looking inside, she found the exact quantity—no negligible sum—that had disappeared from her coin purse when Montaron had gone and bought her that 'present' of his. She looked at her follow thief suspiciously.

"What did I do to deserve this?" she asked him.

He smirked, in a noticeably better mood than he'd been earlier in the day. "She's yer sister I bet on," he laughed. "Come on. The sun's down. It's a good hour for two unsavory personages such as ourselves to be out and about, enjoying the night air, and if I remember straight there's a carnival out there someplace. Filled with fire-breathers and all manner of spectacle, attracting so many good pockets to pick."

"Ha! I'm in!"

Imoen and Montaron weren't the only ones in a better mood. When Aegis finally headed off to bed with Xzar in tow, she was noticeably more sure of her self and almost seemed to have forgotten the truth they'd spent hours talking about that morning. Alone in the safety of their room, her smile faltered a little, but she turned an expression back on him that was calm, at least. That pleased him. After a few cups of mead it would have been unfortunate to have been the only calm one in the room.

"Does the red and golden lady want to talk more?" he asked luxuriously. "This wizard can see questions whirling slowly behind her eyes."

"Not now," she decided, walking up to where little piles of clothing were folded on the bed. "Looks like your robes were cleaned. Heh. They smell of lemon."

Xzar made a distressed face as he caught the bundle Aegis tossed to him. He lifted the clothing up and gave a sniff. Then he winced. "I do not like their choice of soap fragrences," he disapproved. Aegis cackled.

"Provide an alternative flower or resin next time?"

"Mmnn, valarian?" He began changing into the fresh clothes anyway.

"If you want to smell like the farts of a severely perfumed fortune teller. Valarian borderline stinks, and the scent's overwhelming. How about cinnamon and myrrh?" she teased.

He giggled as she came over to help him. "Ooh, I do like being able to speak herbs to a sympathetic ear!" He finished shedding his clothing and tried to don the robes, but she stopped him. "Mm?" He glanced at her.

She touched an inquisitive kiss to his mouth.

He blinked. Then he smiled and neatly folded up the robes and set them side. "I like that idea you have. But hold it for a moment; I wanted to ask you something unrelated to this. I want to do something for you and for that I need your permission."

"I still have enough blood in my alcohol to be listening," Aegis told him.

"I want to give you a tattoo," he told her. She was taken aback.

"Ehm... A tattoo is... permanent ink on the skin, right? Like what Minsc has on his head and what you... eh..."

"Not on your face," he promised. "And much more attractive than either design, I can promise you that! I was thinking on your back. No one would even see it with your clothes on. What do you say? Will you indulge me?"

Aegis hesitated, because she was tipsy and because she wasn't sure she trusted Xzar's aesthetic judgement. She was, after all, talking to a man in permanent harlequin makeup with a smile that split his face in two regardless of his current emotional state. "Can I see what you plan to do on paper first?" she asked slowly.

"No! That would ruin the surprise!" he exclaimed. "Mustn't see it till it's done!"

Aegis crossed her arms over her chest. "Then, 'no'."

His eyes widened at her answer and he looked shocked and horrified for a moment. Then he looked all around himself and rubbed his forearms together and writhed in anxious discomfort. "But... but... but..."

The ranger lifted a brow. "It's that important to you?"

He looked at her with big kitten eyes. "Yes!" he insisted. "Please? Indulge me. When do I ask you for anything? Aside from the right to kill Jaheira and the bard. And harvest their body parts. I never ask for anything! I am so well behaved, am I not? I know about braiding hair! Surely that improves my credentials!"

"Well..." She hesitated, because this sounded like one of those things she could end up regretting down the road.

"I will use your name on you to compel you!" he threatened, hopping forward to grab her arm. "Aegis. Aeeeggisss... Please? I am studying the art of social manipulation from watching the little purple devil who follows you around. "Pleeasseee Aeeegggisss?"

The incredible power of her name on her lover's lips was a little too much to resist, especially veiled in an accent. "Hrr, okay, listen to this: Will you show it to Imoen? If she says yes, then I say yes."

He thought about the condition. "Do I have to?" he whined piteously, though in truth he was relaxed and delighted with the outcome.

"Yes," she said firmly.

He gave a dramatic sigh. "Very well, very well, if you insist. But she's not allowed to tell you anything except whether she approves or disapproves! It, ah, it does prick a bit to get the ink under the skin. And it takes many hours of pricking. Maybe over a couple days. It is not precisely comfortable."

"Can't be any worse than Jaheira's temper. I'll live."

"Good! I will show her tomorrow then." He kissed her cheek and then happily started to remove her clothing.

"I want you to agree to something, too."

He blinked, looking up at her.

"Teach me Zhentarum Argot," she told him.

Xzar smiled. "Willingly."

Jaheira and Khalid were already awake prior to dawn, though they were each privately impressed that Aegis had managed to wake with the sun yet again. For a woman who frequently overindulged in alcohol, her tutors had taught her a bizarre counterbalance. She looked to them when she entered, still pushing sleep out of her face. Ghosting after her was the necromancer, who looked completely dead on his feet and who was hugging a teapot happily to his chest.

Aegis took him by the elbow and gently propelled him to the bar counter so he could get some hot water, and then she turned and came up to her 'aunt' an 'uncle' and settled into a chair. "Good morning," she greeted them.

"We wanted to talk to you about the documents that were uncovered in Mulahey's lair, and what the next steps should be for everyone," Jaheira said

Their 'neice' yawned and rubbed the back of her head. "In what way?" she asked.

"Nashkel was one of the epicenters of the iron crisis, but our organization never assumed it was an entirely isolated incident. What we didn't expect was the connection the bandits. Like everyone else, we assumed the bandits appearance was an opportunistic thing, fueled by the economic crisis and diminished resources for patrolling north of the border. Now we have learned they are in collaboration the men who poisoned the iron in Nashkel. Surely the top cannot stop at the bandits; they have nothing special to gain from this! There is something much bigger and more intricately designed going on here than we realized."

"So what's the next step? It seems like tracking down a central bandit camp is on the agenda."

"Yes, but-" Jaheira paused as Xzar came up. He settled down the teapot to steep along with two empty cups.

Aegis took note of Jaheira's hesitance and looked to her lover. "Xzar, mind giving Jaheira and Khalid a moment to talk privately with me?" she asked him.

"Pish-posh," said her necromancer sleepily. "Whatever the nasty troll lady has to say to you, she can say it to me also."

"No, I think not," Jaheira muttered, but then surprisingly she turned to her husband and deferred the conversation to him! Khalid leaned forward with a slight smile.

"Aegis we agree someone should investigate the b-bandit camp," the half-elfin man told her.

Aegis and Xzar glanced at one another and then back to Khalid, whom they were not used to taking a lead role in conversations for obvious reasons. Given the well-throttled speech impediment, they each independently came to the same conclusion that he might have done something to prepare for this moment in specific.

"We plan to do just that. Will you be coming with us?" Aegis asked.

"J-jaheira and I wish to take a detour to visit friends and g-gather information about your p-plight, eh... W-well it is... hardly a secret anymore, so: Jaheira and I b-belong to the order of Harpers. Your father was also a H-harper, heh. He was q-quite an adventurer in his day. He only settled d-down when he adopted you."

Aegis frowned. "He never told me. He never even made any special effort to tell me stories about the Harpers."

"He... was a private man. P-perhaps he wanted you to have n-normality. And the right to choose your own path," Khalid decided.

Aegis realized where this was headed. "You're not going to the bandits, then? You're going to meet with other Harpers, to report on the mines and learn what you can about what's going on."

Khalid nodded. "We are also s-still hunting information about the a-armored man who slew him. If you could give us the b-bounty notices you've been c-collecting, we could use them for scrying. W-we can't help but feel that perhaps the trouble in the r-region and Gorion's murderer may be, well, interconnected somehow. C-call it a hunch. Y-you could a-also come with us, b-but-"

Xzar laughed hard, interrupting the half-elf and causing Jaheira to tense up in resentment. "Buuuuttt," purred the madman, "she is also traveling with two Zhents and a Red Wizard of Thay!" he completed for them. "And aren't we supposedly your mortal enemies or something? Ah yes. That would explain why you're dragging this out so long!"

"Beg p-pardon?" Khalid asked, puzzled.

"Well, you could just be saying, 'Sorry, we're abandoning you on the roadside because my wife is a controlling woman and you refuse to be led around by the nose by righteous evangelists!'"

(Khalid wisely reached backwards to put a restraining hand on Jaheira, as he had a good feeling the necromancer was only about to get sharper with his comments.)

"'Instead you're putting together a lengthy, 'us-or-them' case for getting her to pick a side. That's so righteous of you, so noble, so cute, so... shallow. Pin a harp, or bye!"

Rather than become flustered, Khalid actually smiled. "T-terribly unnecessary, th-that," the half-elf laughed. "D-does she look very Zh-zhentish to you? No. Sh-she seems to be very good at keeping you three out of the w-worst forms of trouble. N-not to mention B-branwen, who is prone to fighting, and the R-Rashemi, who are unaccustomed to these l-lands. W-why worry about her?"

Xzar frowned, taken aback.

Khalid looked back to Aegis. "O-our j-journey is not for a whole p-party. If you choose to st-stay, then while you are investigating the b-bandits, we will h-hunt additional information. W-we will meet up with you as s-soon as we c-can. B-believe us we have no intention of leaving, well, indefinitely. G-gorion was our dear friend... and now so are you."

The necromancer was very upset with this. He pouted at his tea, trying to figure out what had just happened. He was sure he didn't like it, even though technically speaking things had gone in his favor.

Aegis grinned and began to stand. "You're leaving me alone with a necromancer, an assassin, a devilologist, and a witch?" she chuckled, coming over to the other side of the table. "I didn't... what the insensitive wizard just said... I didn't want either of you to leave."

"We have all intention of r-returning shortly," Khalid told her, standing and reaching forward to give her a hug. Aegis took it and returned it. "T-though I believe we also w-wanted some time t-to... eh... reflect."

Aegis looked at Jaheira and privately hoped she hadn't burnt a bridge. This was one of the only friends she knew of her father's. One of her only links back to him. Aegis pulled back from the hug and looked to Khalid's warm expression. "Are the questionable members of my party safe from your reporting work?"

"Y-yes," Khalid assured her. "We are both on your s-side, Aegis. If we told the story in full you would likely have little to fear; but we will b-be discrete, regardless. Plenty of people have been trying to get to the bottom of these m-mysteries. Y-you succeeded."

"I wish you luck and godspeed," Aegis told them. "We should talk about those documents then, and where to start looking for the camp. When do plan to leave?"

"We w-will head out in a few days," Khalid told her.

"As long as nothing happens to you, the populace, or any graveyards in the meanwhile," Jaheira muttered, glaring at Xzar.

Xzar glanced up at her accusation with a relatively blank expression. After a moment he affected a lazy expression and then raised his hands innocently. "No need to fear, no need to fear!" he cooed reassuringly. "Montaron and I will also need to depart soon."

Aegis spun around and stared at him, and Xzar smiled in catlike amusement. There was perverse pleasure to be had in seeing her react more dramatically to his departure than to theirs. "We investigated the mines and we must debrief our handlers," Xzar explained as he picked up his teapot. "After that, I know not where we'll be for certain."

Aegis frowned. "Should I be worried about a visit from unfriendly Zhentarum agents?" she asked her necromancer quietly. "Or are we in the clear on that, too?"

"This wizard also knows the value of discretion, Byatskhan Moaratuk," Xzar assured her, pouring out two neat cups of tea. "No one here is a high profile target, and the only two Harpers will soon be leaving. Still, a little paranoia never hurts when you already know assassins are chasing you. Mind your defenses in general, dear." He settled the tea pot down and then pushed her cup across the table.

Jaheira twitched at the usage of 'dear', and at the sound of what had apparently become a madman's 'cute' appellation for the ward of a respectable monk; Khalid was attempting to get a thumb on the necromancer's exact level of sanity, but try as he might, day after day, it seemed to jump all over the place. Aegis looked down at the beverage Xzar was offering her and, after a long moment, she scooped up the little cup and contemplated its contents.

Xzar blinked innocently up at her. "This cannot be good; she is staring at liquids again," he observed, and then quickly got to his feet to fold his hands around her own. "Why does she stare so?" he asked with a playful but also agitated tilt of his head. When Aegis didn't immediately answer him, he lifted a thumb and forefinger to gently pinch her chin. "Is she feeling overwhelmed? Alone? Oh. Do not." He caressed her cheek and then tugged her mouth to his.

The intimate contact seemed to reassure Aegis. Her shoulders settled a little, and when he released the kiss she seemed in a better frame of mine. "Tea," he reminded her. Aegis gave him a reproachful expression, perhaps still a little upset he'd sprung his departure on her quite like this, but then eventually grumbled something inarticulate and sipped on her tea.

"Watching you faun over her is like watching a black dragon leaking poison into a stream," Jaheira groused, though the words seemed more irritated than outright baiting a fight. "I wonder at times if she is not charmed."

"She's not," sighed a morose elf, who had just gotten up with the sun. "It was the first thing I thought of as well. No, her malady is far worse, and largely not addressable by outsiders. Somber morning to you all. I see you could not wait till the sun was high to begin disagreeing with each other."

When Edwin woke there was light blooming across his vision, turning everything blurry and white. There was also a low, consistent, deep ache in the roots of his bones. He felt drained, and his eyelids were sticky. His surroundings did seem to be comfortable. There was good, high-quality cotton under his fingers. The linens were smooth and clean. As the bloom receded and he became less sensitive to the light, he got a slow look at the room he was in. The time of day appeared to be early morning.

Movement. His gaze shifted slowly to track it and then he nearly tried to leap to his feet when he saw the Wychlaran at his bedside. She had stood up and leaned over the bed to have a better look look at him.

"Thou art awake," she established.

"By the nine hells, get away from me," he muttered, and heard his voice emerge as a low croak. How badly had he been injured? His body barely responded to his demands at all!

"Be calm. Here we are not enemies. Thou hast been injured, and it was my turn to watch over thy slumber. I have done this once previously for you on the first evening, and thou will survive now as thou did then."

" 'Be calm,' the witch says, (so it will look natural when I strangle you, the witch says), I am no fool, get away from me!"

"I give thee my word, Edwin Odesseiron, I am at the moment of no danger to thee. I am but the dutiful nurse." He sneered hesitantly.

"You- H-how long have I been asleep?"

"Nearly a day and a half," she told him honestly. "Art thou thirsty?"

He looked around, trying to understand why he was so sluggish. The sling over his chest and the heavy bandages caught his gaze. "My arm," he realized, trying to pull his memories together and shifting his good hand to try and get it out from under the blankets.

"Thou remembers the ogre?"

"You playing the fool and drawing them to us? Yes, that seems familiar..." he muttered under his breath, getting his good hand up to touch the sling in confusion.

"Thou lost thine arm."

Memory. Edwin's eyes widened, and he looked from Dynaheir to his injured arm. Honestly frightened, he tried to move the injured limb's fingers. They responded, but sluggishly. He muttered a dozen curses under his breath as he tried to sit up.

Dynaheir tried to help him and he all but hissed at her like a cornered animal. Still, she managed to get the pillows propped up under his back so he could command a better view of his room and of himself. He grimaced, touching carefully at the bandaged arm and trying to move it a little.

"Lost the arm," he muttered. "The ogre... The ogre tore it off. I thought..." Reliving that scene sent tingles through his shoulder and pectoral and made butterflies swim in his stomach. He was suddenly nauseous and famished. The witch must have seen it on his face because she quickly passed him an empty wooden bucket just moments before the urge to vomit overwhelmed him. He retched once, and then twice, though there was little for him to give but green stomach fluid and bile. He pushed the bucket away as soon as he could, breathing hard.

He was too wretched not to take the water skin when she gave it to him. It had been heated, which seemed a little strange, but he found it easier on the stomach. "Drink slowly," she advised. He was half inclined to spit a mouthful at her. But no, that would have gotten him wet, too. He was already miserable enough.

"What happened?" he grimaced.

"Thou well could have died, but the party reached thee in time. Imoen slew the ogre and dashed to you to staunch the bleeding. Branwen reached thy side shortly afterward and reattached the arm. We mended thee as best we could. Aegis ordered us to march through the night to Nashkel. She carried thee. We made it to the Temple at around two in the morning, and the priest improved upon their healing spells."

"I can scarcely feel my fingers!" he hissed.

"We have been assured you will fully recover. It may take up to two weeks. If there are problems, we have been referred to the Song of the Morning Temple in Beregost. The limb should feel sluggish as it mends."

Edwin grimaced but continued to exercise the fingers without saying anything else. She could appreciate the torn frustration and relief she saw on his countenance. The loss of a limb was no flesh wound.

"Odesseiron..." she began slowly. "Thou have made an agreement with Aegis, and thou have respected it. Perhaps thee and I need make our own agreements..."

"What is that supposed to mean, Rashemi?" he snarled, irritated worse than normal owed to his condition. "If you refuse to trust my oaths to our leader, why should I trust you to keep oaths to me?"

"I misjudged thee, and thou proved me wrong. Hours before the events with the ogres, thou were compelled by Mulahey to assault me. In my mind, perhaps I did not believe thou had even resisted his influence."

Edwin gave a humorless laugh "What kind of fool does not resist magical compulsion!? Or any manipulation from an outside force!?" he demanded as if he thought her a simpleton.

Dynaheir stood firm on her course, however, and did not let his edged tongue get the better of her. "I wish to eliminate the element of doubt, so that this near-tragedy does not repeat itself. I wish to formally establish a truce while we remain with this party. That here I am not thine enemy and neither are thee mine."

"You are Wychlaran of Rashamen, and I am a Red Wizard of Thay. No matter the distance or context, we are enemies."

"Perhaps. But perhaps we need not behave as such."

He laughed. "I trust myself. I even trust that oaf who leads us to respect the value of my oath. I do not trust you."

The witch remained patient. "Thou are wondering why I am so far from home; why I deviated from my path; why I am here."

He frowned, but did not lift his head to look at her.

"It is why thou stands united with us rather than against. It is why thou art not complaining at how this is all a waste of thine time. Thou doest not truly expect me to prove innocuous, but thou is going to too much effort—and making too many promises—for this to be but a simple assassination attempt. Thou must be after something. All I have of value is my journey."

His eyes slid up to hers. "And you are mentioning this now to me... why, exactly?"

"Edwin, there are mysteries which remain opaque to me. I believe solving them will be easier done with... collaboration," she told him matter-of-factly.

His eyes narrowed because he did not at all believe this snake. Wychlaran were masters of manipulation and obfuscation. The last time he had lain injured, she had tried to destroy his spellbook under the illusions of devoted prayer and protecting the greater party-!" He looked around suddenly, alarmed, his gaze darting rapidly over the features of the room.

"Where are my possessions?" he demanded.

"Your pack is on the floor, your robe had to be cut from you to address your wounds, and as for your spellbook..." Dynaheir gave him an understanding look, "I believe your little friend lifted it from your person around the same time she learned I'd be taking a watch."

Edwin's upper lip curled, his shoulders raising and the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. "My friend? Ah. My friend. By all the princes of hell, I shall sleep good and well tonight knowing my spellbook is in the hands of a consummate thief, whore, and liar. But then, at least she is not a madwoman dabbling in shamanism, offering a research collaboration to her archenemy! (I am surrounded on every front by insanity! Is it contagious!?)"

"Odesseiron-"

"I tire of your patronizing voice, savage girl. If you want a proposition, here is mine: Go and find my 'friend' and tell the perverted, halfling-fancying guttersnipe to bring me back my spellbook. Then perhaps I won't track down your entire clan after I've killed you to boil them all alive in their own skins."

"Before I do that-"

"What? What!?"

Dynaheir took in a long slow breath. "Doest thou not wish me to remove the leeches, then?"

The man stared at her a long moment. His voice was much quieter: "What?"

"The leeches. They were used to help with the healing process. I was instructed to remove them when thou woke."

He stared at her. When he did not immediately say anything, she shifted to sit on the edge of the bed, and then reached forward to remove the outer bandaging from around the healing shoulder seam. Edwin stiffened slightly, squirming as if to get away from her and then turning his head to look down at the wound. Wrapped jaggedly around his shoulder was a trail of warm, pink, new flesh. Nestled in long coils over the breadth of the healing wound, engorged to five times their normal size, fat on their meal and still suckling like rows of newborn pigs, were thick; black; glistening worms.

When he could see again, Edwin cursed every god of healing he could name. Their muttered names were mantra against the (panic!) feeling of hands plucking things which dare not be named or voluntarily called to memory from his skin. He looked anywhere but her direction, clenching the fingers of his good hand in the blankets, and cursing in every language he knew.

Chapter Text

"Somber morning to you all. I see you could not wait till the sun was high to begin disagreeing with each other."

"His hair is so cute," Xzar giggled, as Xan briefly passed them by them to obtain breakfast, "Purple was the right color!"

"We were discussing who plans on staying and who plans on leaving," Aegis told the elf on his return, glad for the interruption of what might otherwise have dissolved into a half-elf/madman morality-wrestling match. Aegis hadn't wanted to learn whether Xzar would have gotten more or less lucid, as either could have gone badly. "Imoen briefly mentioned to my inebriated self that you intend on tracking down the bandit camp with us?"

"It is my duty to continue the investigation, hopeless as it may prove," Xan agreed as he sat down with a plate of fruit. "If we are pursuing the same thing, traveling together should increase our odds by some small proportion." Xzar procured a third teacup from an unknown location and filled it. Xan hesitated only briefly before accepting it from him. "Lovely. Are we discussing the terms by which different factions of persons should leave such that no one ends up unnecessarily murdered?"

"No," Jaheira told him. "We have no proof the Zhents would abide by any terms. We would just be listening to empty words."

"We have no proof that I am not an amnesiac dragon, either," Xan answered that, settling his elbows on the table and resting his chin on steepled fingers. "But we manage to successfully go through our lives without worrying too much about that possibility. What does the party leader say?"

Aegis sipped her tea. "I believe Montaron, Xzar, and Jaheira would all kill one another if they believed they were guaranteed to get away with it. But I think Khalid would have to be provoked into fighting by an actual demonstration of violent intent, and that if he did kill anyone he'd be the first to let me know and he'd feel incredibly bad about it."

That startled several people at the table. Jaheira seemed indignant. Xzar cracked up laughing, mostly because Aegis's grammar had correctly implied that Montaron and Xzar would have also quite willingly killed one another.

Aegis took in a deep breath. "I want everyone to leave this party peacefully. And to return to it peacefully if it comes to that. Khalid, Jaheira? Set a day to leave by. I trust Khalid not to set an ambush. Montaron and Xzar should leave the day afterward."

"But-!" Xzar protested, eyes widening. Aegis glanced at him.

"What, you think this one is filled with guile and subterfuge?" she gestured at Khalid, who blushed and fidgeted awkwardly. "Hmm? Is he a paragon of righteous, sneaky fury? Death by secret-ambush, holy smitings and the lot?

Xzar paused, giggled, and then looked down bashfully. "I suppose not," he admitted. "He's too good for that."

"There you have it. On the other hand, Khalid, thank you for your discretion. Even with Xzar and Montaron gone, I have Edwin to look after. I should very much like not to end up on the wrong side of a whole lot of good people for his sake."

"Then oust him from the party," Jaheira suggested.

Xan rubbed the bridge of his nose "Oust the man who let an Ogre tear his arm off to give a woman who ought to be his racial enemy time to cast a... You know I do not like the man either; he has an incredibly boorish temper for one who scents of nobility. But he has done his job so to speak, and well."

"Defending a man of darkness at the expense of good people? How is that not morally compromised? In any crime we would call this being an accomplice!"

Fortunately, this line of discussion was discontinued by the necromancer: Xzar cleared his throat, smiled at Aegis with contentment and, and agreed, "Very well, Byatskhan Moaratuk, we will do things as you indicate. Politely. We will endeavor to be entirely blind and invisible to each other. Until... perhaps... two days have past? Then we are both on the outside, and on two very different sides, and while it is unlikely we cross paths, it is not impossible. I think the Harpers would also insist that it is a practical provision."

Aegis looked to Jaheira and Khalid, who nodded.

"Do you truly not fear action from the Zhentarum?" Jaheira asked in a bitter addendum.

"There's no motive!" Xan complained, and Aegis was grateful to have him there. "You are part of an organization as well, so be reasonable and think! How big of a threat or how large an opportunity does it take for the Zhentarum or the Harpers to martial a serious strike force? Certainly neither will be moved by a personal disagreement on leadership styles in a random adventuring party out of Nashkel that did them a great convenience. This conversation is not useful."

Jaheira seemed taken-aback by him, and slightly confused. He was, after all, a Greycloak; and their respective factions did frequently collaborate.

Xzar seemed to share Xans' conviction that neither faction would pose a serious danger, but had other reasons entirely: "I shudder—with delight, of course!—to think what this one will do to the next assassin from any faction. Especially if this new one comes after someone under her protection instead of her, this time! We'd be sending the assassin's pulped remains home in a wine skin to keep them from leaking! Hehehehehehe. Mm. But then I do not delude myself into thinking a bottled Harper would make her anywhere near as happy as it would make me. A bottled rabbit, though... Ooh! I think thing the cook just finished making biscuits. Let me fetch us breakfast, my dear!" 

For a man who had spent the last twenty years of his life hidden away in an obscure nook of the world so as not to be found, the old monk was finding isolation unbearable.

The book before him was useless. The words before him swam and melded together, meaningless and unimportant. Alive, yet constrained; forced to refrain from any act of significance; this 'boon' from the gods was a slow and merciless torture.

Gorion sighed, closing the tome and running fingers through his hair. There were more feathers lately; he didn't bother looking in a mirror frequently enough to pluck them.

Then: Footsteps. And he knew the sound of those footsteps long before he saw their owner. He perked up, twisting around in the little study the priests had provided him with. News? He could only be so hopeful. He stood as Elminster Aumar entered, and he could not veil the eager, nearly frantic boredom which coursed through him.

The older wizard pause upon seeing him at the ready, and then laughed. He took off his hat and settled a basket of what Gorion expected was wine and fresh produce on a nearby table. "You look positively miserable," Elminster teased. "I feel even more wretched that I have been so busy."

"The world beckoned," Gorion answered quietly.

"I apologize I can do no better for thee 'till the sentence has elapsed; take heart it should not last more than a year."

The younger of two old men winced, and absolutely did not take heart in that time frame. He closed his eyes and took in a slow breath. "Is there news of her?" he asked.

"Yes," Elminster answered, easing the door shut behind him and placed aside his staff and his hat. He did indeed procure a wine bottle from that basket, and then settled down in the extra seat to make himself at home. "Sit?"

Gorion didn't initially move. "I become anxious whenever you offer me wine," he decided after a moment, as he slowly took his seat.

"I offer you wine every time I meet you!" the senior wizard protested.

"You must always come under anxious circumstances then," the junior wizard managed the strength to joke. "My daughter?"

Foster daughter, Elmnister did not remind him. "This is celebratory wine," he explained, conjuring cups from the air and filling one each for himself and his friend. He distributed them. "Aegis and her party have done the Coast a great service, and emerged victorious from the mines. I assume Khalid and Jaheira will send out more information shortly. They are in Nashkel proper even now, enjoying the inn. They even managed to recover one of the missing Greycloaks, I am told."

Gorion deflated slightly, the sharp edge of his tension bleeding off as he inwardly gave thanks to Oghma. After a moment, and at Elminster's urging, he picked up the wine and drank from it. "How long will you be here?" Gorion asked.

"I need to run a few errands, and then I plan to briefly return to Beregost in around a week. I sense that will be a good time for an serendipitous meeting..."

Blue eyes darted up to the older wizard's face again. "I want to see her," Gorion told him without hesitance.

"That is inadvisable for so many countless reasons, my dear friend... Use scrying," Elminster advised

"I. Want. To. See. Her." The younger mage did not yield. "If you would but give me a cloak with a deep hood I could remain anonymous!"

"If she glimpses, hears, or touches you, if she but suspicions who you are, Lathanader could deem you as having broken the deal. Your life and soul would both be forfeit, and after what you did at-"

"I sacrificed everything for my daughter's sake, and many times over," Gorion responded. "That risk is nothing new. Please."

"Ah but this time you would be sacrificing something that isn't entirely yours, Gorion, and gaining nothing but personal comfort." The rebuke was edged, but then melted to something more solemn, such that Gorion could feel the weight of a millennia behind each word: "I did not call in so many favors just for you to martyr yourself to nothing of consequence. If you wish to throw yourself on another executioner's block for her, then please only attempt to do so when you will accomplish something."

Gorion shuddered. He looked around the room, at this small office, this cage he needed to resign himself to. He almost might have, if not for Elminster's next words:

"And she is your foster child, Gorion. Always she has been but that. If she were your blood, none of this would have even happened. We would not be here now talking about her. Do not forget whose blood truly does run in her veins. If watching her becomes painful, and you try to intervene-"

"I have had enough of those sentences for one lifetime," said Gorion in a low voice, "and found it refreshing that you so politely refrained from engaging in them, for all that you must have deemed me equally mad. If you're pulling them out now, there must be a reason. Do you think they will affect me, after so many repetitions, except to further sour my already dismal mood?" 

Elminster fell quiet for a moment. "I am sincere, my friend. Thou must not intervene, even in rash desperation. As the instinct grows within her and begins to manifest its gifts, you will be even more tempted to act. The farther she strays, the more you will went to help. But you must not."

Gorion looked at him. " 'The farther she strays?' " he asked sadly. "All this time you held your silence, but beneath it all you always agreed? I had hoped you had remained neutral."

Garbed in Mystra's Red and Blue, and stayed to inaction by her hand, Elminster sighed. "Gorion-"

"You were not there. You did not rear her. You did not swaddle her to your bosom. You did not change her clothes. You did not feed her cough syrup on rainy days. You were not there when she came home with her first pet. Or when she ran screaming through the halls, terrified of a thunderstorm. You did not preside over her studies or assign her her chores. She is a woman. She is more real, more passionate, more sure of herself than most people ever live to be. She is not a beast, nor doomed to the fate of one."

"Your Keeper of Tomes would tell the story very differently: of an undisciplined and violent creature who breaks out laughing at funerals and has no true discernment of the line between good and evil."

"Ulraunt did not raise her either," Gorion mused. "Do you trust him, or me?"

"I am very much inclined to trust you, old friend," Elminster said with a delicate wince in his voice. "...But I believe you to be blinded by affection. And guilt."

Gorion was quiet a moment. Then he looked quietly out the window and seemed to become lost in memories.

"I know you love your daughter," the older Harper told him at last. "I also believe she loves you; she was greatly shaken by your passing. But-"

"Do you honestly believe I could not see what she was?" the monk asked him. "That I smother over the truth with delusions of innocence, and block her lineage from my mind? The reason I know you are wrong, that Lathander is wrong, that the whole damned entirety of the Realms who have assembled to voice opinion on the matter are wrong... is because I was the one there staring down into the eyes of my babe and watching a skull-faced god stare back at me. I was the one who mapped his contribution to her, his influence." Gorion turned, looking back at the other wizard. "Elminster for the first year of her life, I laced her milk with my blood. I had to, or she wouldn't drink it, and it took me that long to wean her off the taste for it."

Elminster straightened, his eyes widening in surprise and alarm.

Gorion smiled almost victoriously! "You weren't there. You did not watch her straddling a cat, strangling it with her hands and playing with keeping it on the cusp of death. You did not watch her follow around an elf with a slain soulmate, intoxicated by the aura of death and loss. Or observe that she could watch fascinated for hours as the mousers played with their food.

"When children called her 'bad' for laughing at the predicament of an injured bird; she did not run crying into your arms and ask you if she was broken. It was not to you whom she read old fables of heroes slaying evil dragons and then queried why the heroes went unpunished for murder. She did not come after you one day, pestering you about your age and your poor sleeping habits, and then forbidding you from dying. You did not watch the transformation as she grew. You weren't there."

Elminster listened to the ramp of the narrative with a curious tilt to his head. He observed how Gorion looked tense and haggard in body, but his eyes were keen; intense; fearless. "Why have you never said any of this to anyone? Does Khelban know?"

"There are a lot of things I did not say," Gorion told him. "Not to anyone, both for her safety, and to keep me in an unbiased state of mind, primed for solving problems. I had to figure out the answers alone, and specific to her. Because if I had given her the ones I had always believed in, that I had been taught... She would have never been able to understand them.

"Bhaal was human, once. No matter what form he took in the siring, the roots of that humanity are all still there. I trust my daughter, and I assure you that you are going to be incredibly surprised by the paths she chooses for herself." Then Gorion looked away, falling from victorious all the way to sad and helpless. "... I just want to see her, Elminster. I just want to see my child."

Xzar returned with oatmeal and fish heads, thankfully not in the same bowl

The big decisions had been made and the conversation was now dying down without anyone seriously becoming offended or threatening to attack anyone else. Then Khalid made the mistake of becoming curious about Aegis's bizarre companion, and asked him: "I-I a-apologize for the insensitive q-question but... are you a-actually e-even m-mad?" 

The question got a quick involuntary laugh out of Xzar and Aegis both. "He's better in the mornings," Aegis allowed.

"I don't knowwww," Xzar cooed, not looking back at them. "Ammm I realllyy? Are you, Calimshite?"

Khalid blinked. "Beg p-pardon?"

Xzar smiled almost coyly as he passed a place to Aegis. "Mad! What fun things did you see in the Darkstalker Wars to give you such a silly stutter? Does a woman's touch help? Is that how you two got so cute and close?"

Khalid stiffened and turned a very surprising shade of gray, and Aegis looked between the two of them in alarm. Jaheira stood up, pushed her chair behind her and glared daggers at Xzar. "Shut. Up." She said, and she was not to be crossed.

"It's a-alright," Khalid told her quietly. Jaheira looked ready to spit literal fire. Aegis hugged her tea cup to herself, looking around confused at everyone. Xan's brows peaked in surprise.

"What were the Darkstalker Wars?" Aegis asked quickly. Xan tried to answer, but Xzar was clearly thrilled to tell her.

"Ah!" he exclaimed, "A piece of history you don't know? Let me bask in this a moment! Mm. So this is what it feels like to be older than you. Hold on, I am still savoring it." He licked his lips as he took his seat, and his indolent behavior was much to Jaheira's consternation. "Ah, yes. Mm. Okay, I'm done! The Deathstalker Wars were fought between the thieves guilds and criminal organizations of Calimshan, circa the end of the Time of Troubles and for some time afterwards. You would have been about ten."

"How did you g-guess?" Khalid asked in a small but level voice.

"You are a Calimshite, and you're so goody-goody! You would have gone home to try and 'save' all the innocent people caught up in that mess! Mm, but maybe I don't like this topic either. Let us change the subject."

The conversation was interrupted by hollering and hurried footsteps outside. Into the slightly charged atmosphere of an almost-ugly conversation barged Imoen, completely covered in mud. "I'm here!" she exclaimed through heavy pants. There were ribbons in her hair, and also large erratic pieces of hay. "Am I too late to take my watch!?"

The party gaped at her as Montaron tumbled in after her, equally filthy, and also snickering.

"What the devil happened to the both of you?" Jaheira asked, now in bad temper.

"Um, well, you see," Imoen tried to explain. The two thieves shared a knowing look and then broke out into near-hysterics at something only they knew. "I'll- I'll tell you later!" she laughed hard. Did she have a black eye? "Maybe! You'll never believe it! Morning Aegy! Morning Gloomy!"

"Get yer ass to the room ye stupid pink goose," her halfling sputtered with a cackle, shoving her forward and following. "I've got mud places the sun don't shine and enough bruises and welts I can't count em, so stop standin' around!"

"Oh my god, don't get me started, I thought you were dead when that- snerk! Hahahahahah!" She fled into the back of the inn with Montaron on her ass as the bartender shouted after them for leaving a mess.

"Send a bath!" the halfling advised in retreat. "Lest ye want me nude and makin' a mess in th' halls!"

Xan sighed. Aegis twisted about to stare after them in confusion. Then she caught sight of Xzar, who wore an expression of outright chagrin. He turned a wide-eyed pale gaze back to Aegis, and declared:  "Mammy, I don't thinks he's tolds hers eithers!" Then he picked up his first fish head, bare handed, and sucked some of the skin off its face "Silly, silly, silly rabbit! Hee! Nom."

"Acknowledged," Aegis said, and then recalled Xzar had just been getting very unfriendly with Khalid. She looked to her 'uncle,' who was still slightly ashen but who caught her gaze and nodded to indicate that he was alright.

"Our b-business is... c-concluded, then. We'll t-talk more in a few hours?"

Aegis suspected he wanted to escape the common room for awhile. She couldn't blame him; had he really been through something so terrible as Xzar assumed? She briefly squeezed his shoulder, nodded, and then watched as he tugged Jaheira towards the inn hallway to retreat to their own room. The druid glared daggers as she eased a protective arm around her husband's shoulders.

"Suppose that went as well as I could hope," Aegis decided with a very heavy sigh. "Thank you, Xan. Your... monotone rationality was actually a welcome change."

The morose elf seemed to perk up a little bit. "I... appreciate the recognition of my singular talent..."

She and then looked back down at Xzar. "Hey, I don't suppose you have a-"

He looked up at her sharply. "Yes! Always! I know the question of that answer!" He rummaged around on his person and then drew out a headache potion and sat it in front of her as she took her seat. "Though you already used one this morning. I shall have to make more..."

"You, I adore," she promised the necromancer, leaning over to kiss his cheek. "But we're talking later. I've got a bone to pick with you after all that."

"Which would you like?" he asked, offering her his bowl of fish heads. 

For breakfast? Aegis grimaced, pulling her oatmeal to herself and hiding it from cross-contamination. Xan scooted his own food over to give her oatmeal a larger defensive buffer.

"It's the best part of the animal!" Xzar declared blithely. "I only hate it when the teeth get stuck in my teeth. Food! Stop biting me! Ow! It did it again. Ow! And again! Mmm. I need to find less pugnacious fish... Hee!"

Edwin spent maybe half an hour exercising his fingers and Dynaheir, at least, didn't speak with him. He underestimated his own weakness, however, and clearly must have dozed off at some point. The next thing he was aware of was the smell of food. He blinked irritably and hungrily and then looked up to see Dynaheir had ended her watch. Perched at his side was Imoen, her hair still drying from a quick bath.

"Heya!" she whispered gently. "Dynaheir said you'd come to! How ya feeling?"

Edwin stiffened. {Give me my spellbook,} he demanded in Mulhourandi.

She didn't argue, but rather nodded and produced the tome immediately, placing it into his... his off hand. Because his dominant hand was the injured one. {I made sure nothing happened to it,} she assured him.

Edwin rapidly tried to assess the book, though it was inconvenient to do so without two hands. {Something did: it was stolen by a thief,} he growled at her, thumbing through the pages.

"Oh calm down, silly head! It was temporarily hidden by a highly trustworthy traveling companion."

"A thousand times I have told you: Stay out of my things!"

"So I should never touch anything of yours?"

"Exactly! (Was it really so difficult to comprehend? Has she finally understood? No, surely she mocks!)"

"I'll remember that the next time anyone lobs your arm at me! And when I'm sticking my fingers in your empty shoulder socket to pinch off arteries!" she giggled cheerfully. Edwin glared up at her, but Imoen only smiled and lifted up a tray of breakfast items.

"Get out, fool." He snapped.

"No! So this is how things will go: You can eat, or we can talk about how you fainted at the sight of the leeches."

Edwin straightened indignantly, eyes widening. "I did not faint!" he exclaimed.

Imoen beamed. "Oh, that's right! You swooned. You shrieked in horror and then swooned," she cackled, "and then came to, cursing Isharia, Lathander, Ilmater, Ohgma, Torm, Chauntea, and I think a couple demon or devil names..."

He had turned red in the face because there was no denial to be had; either Dynaheir had rendered the tale in full or Imoen had overheard. "I would have liked to have seen you do better," he sneered, and he was irritated at how childish the rebuttal was.

"They're just worms, Edwin, geez! Didn't you ever see a bug or newt or worm before? I helped get them on you in the first place! Heck, I pet them to see if they were slimy! You mustn't have been a very adventurous child!"

"Unlike some fools, I aspired to higher things than playing around in the mud with vermin!" His accent was thicker than usual because he was stressed and helpless, and he rolled heavily the 'r' of 'vermin'.

"Oh vermin get in the houses too! I used to help Aegis catch things to train the mousers with! No one else was having much luck. We used to catch all sorts of things to tease the kittens with and learn em right! My favorite were cockroaches and silverfish. Weren't no one else could catch em without crushing them in the process, cause of how flat they can go and how slippery they can be! My fingers were so light I could snatch them straight off the ground!"

Edwin was dismayed and disgusted. "These suck a person's blood!"

"So? Didn't you ever get bit by a mosquito before? Hey! Did you know if you pinch the skin around where they bite, you can make them drink in so much blood they explode? Pop! Like a dam bursting!"

Edwin was turning funny colors for a man who consorted with some of the ugliest devils known to man. "S-stop-" he managed, but then trailed off as if horrified to find himself begging over such a juvenile and stupid thing. He was still nauseous and to be honest he needed to eat. The smell of food in tandem with her antics was curling his stomach. "Stop! Stop, just- just-..."

Imoen grinned and settled the tray down on his legs so he could access it. Then she climbed on to the bed beside him. "Welll," she admitted, "let's just say there's a possibility a pink thief is talking up her callousness just to tease you is. Real truth is: Never liked to watch the mousers graduate to actual mice. Heck, new was a fan of all the steps between petting a chicken and cooking it, either."

Edwin grimaced a bit at her dramatics, but this topic branch was a safe get-away from bugs and leeches. "What are you doing?" he asked, a little unnerved by why she'd sat down on the bed.

"I strongly suspect you are not ambidextrous, and your main hand is injured. I promise I won't say nothing if you drip porridge all over yourself, nope sir! But if you'd rather have some help... I'm offering!"

"I would rather not be spoonfed like a child," he answered, reaching awkwardly for his cutlery. The words he chose were remarkably tame. Perhaps he was afraid of another onslaught of descriptive peasant child life, and wagered there were all sorts of fun stories she could tell about maggots. He dipped the tool carefully into the porridge, but his grasp was shaky and unwieldy.

{That is the wrong perspective!} Imoen conspired, as she knew the mean-tempered wizard well enough to knwo she'd have better luck if she indulged him with his native language. {Do you not have any imagination at all? The situation is what you make of it! Clearly you would be getting fed on a silver spoon like a king by your voluptuous but unworthy serving girl in some decadent foreign palace!}

He glared up at her.

{What? You cannot imagine that? But think of the tapestries, the piles of gold, the loyal guards- and... concubines, concubines everywhere! Pretend I do not have a top on, he-who-wanted-to-wench-across-all-Nashkel-proper!}

His upper lip curled in disgust and she broke into a fit of snickering.

{No? What kind of... chauvinistic... bastard are you?} Then she leaned forward and picked up the bowl, lifting it to nearly his face level so he didn't have to bring the spoon quite as far. {For what it is worth, I have complete faith in you not to ruin that lovely goatee.}

Very, very angrily, he offered her the spoon. {You are never to-}

{-bring this up ever again,} she agreed. "S'okay, Edwin." {I may not be a very good friend from your perspective, but I have your back and I will not stab it.}

Chapter Text

{I do not need you here to watch me anymore,} the Red Wizard sighed, leaning back into the pillows and closing his eyes to rest them. He was very tired, and the light of day was starting to sting.

{I should probably nap,} Imoen agreed as she stretched out her legs. {I was out with Montaron all night. That was some crazy hijinks. We ended up escaping through a pig sty! And got two diamonds! And-}

He made a face. {Riveting tale you have there. And phenomenal taste in men. Did you conclude the evening by romantically robbing one another?}

{Ha, you don't know anything!} she giggled. {All people have walls. Yours are made of fire, and then on the other side there is: more fire. But he is very sweet when his are down.}

Edwin glanced at her. {What happened to my robes?}

{They were badly damaged. I figured you'd still want them for the color if not the enchantment. I brought them to an enchanter at the carnival who said he could fix them. I asked around to make sure it was as respectable person a person as you could hope to find at a carnival, and he had plenty of enchanted wares. The robes should be ready to pick up some time today,} she yawned.

He fidgeted. {And my underthings?} he prompted with a growl.

{Do you really want to know the answer?} she asked. He sneered haughtily at her. She laughed. {You... ehm... voided in them. They are being laundered. }

Edwin closed his eyes and rubbed his temple, saying nothing. Imoen leaned back and twisted to reach over the side of the bed, scooping up his pack. She sat back up and settled the pack down in her lap and began rummaging through it. He looked up at the sound and scowled. {What did I just say about going through my things!?} she tossed fresh underwear to him, and he grunted, grabbing up the cloth.

{Yes, well, we can't all be respectable non-thieving folk! Some of us have to get other people nice, fresh, silk clothing from their packs!} She settled the pack down where he could reach it and then stood. {Good luck donning it. I'll make sure someone checks up on you ever hour in case you need something. Get some rest.} She swung her feet off the bed and stood up.

As Imoen said all these things and turned to skip off, Edwin reconsidered sending her away. Belatedly, he recalled that she was important to his short-term plans. Perhaps this was the right moment to affect receptiveness to her 'friendly' overtures, if he could manage to stomach asking her for something when she'd made him feel humiliated. {Imoen,} he called, and she paused and looked back at him. {Wait. Since you are here anyway, I want to ask you for that... favor I had mentioned.}

{Mm? And what kind of favor does the elusive and dangerous peacock dragon want from me?} she asked with some mixture of amusement and suspicion. 

{I want you to steal something for me, of course. Temporarily. And then to return it where it belongs without leaving the owner any wiser.}

Her eyes opened wide. {I am not stealing Dynaheir's spellbook for you!}

Edwin chuckled. {Not Dynaheir's. Xzar's.}

Imoen frowned but looked significantly more on the fence about the task. {It would still be wrong... But okay, I'll bite: why his?}

{You have stolen mine. Clearly you're not that morally opposed to such thievery,} he growled. {And because... because I would like to have a look.}

She crossed her arms over her chest. {Speak plainly what you're after, peacock, and maybe I will consider it.}

Edwin sneered, starting once more to get irritated with her. Still, he thought for a moment, and then gave her a reasonably candid answer: {I believe we have seen the necromancer use a spell I have never heard of before. I want to see if that is the case. And if so, I want to copy it.} Wholesale thievery of another mage's spells. He could tell she was thinking about the request, and he decided to risk a little more honesty as it seemed to put her at ease. {He should not have been able to control that ghoul.}

{I still do not see why I should help you,} she decided.

{Ah, but see, are we not pretending to be friends? And what are friends for if not to share meaningless gestures of good will and extort favors?}

Imoen eyed him untrustingly, but he could see the gleam of curiosity in her eyes. He didn't bother elaborating. Surely she could see the value in ensuring someone in the party could counterspell Xzar in the future, if need be? She sighed dramatically and dropped her arms. {Okay. But there are two rules, and I want something in return.}

Now she was speaking a language he knew. {Name your terms, then.}

{First of all, you cannot let him know you took it. So no casting it while you are with the party.}

{Easy. (Pathetically easy, did I not say I wanted the owner none the wiser?)}

{And second of all, you cannot share anything you get from the spellbook. Ever! I am sure you can find a way around that restriction by directing someone to rediscover the knowledge themselves and then stealing the credit when you get home. But I only steal the spellbook for you, not for all Thay.}

His mouth twitched in annoyance, but he nodded. Fine, that was acceptable. {And what do you want in return?}

She chewed her lip for a moment and he turned his head fully to look at her, curious why she should be nervous. {I want you to teach me magic,} she said abruptly.

Edwin's eyes narrowed. {No.}

The thief pouted. {Why? That is one of my terms.}

{First of all, it is forbidden for any wizard of Thay to take an apprentice from any group outside the Thayvian nobility and the Mulan race which comprises it, with only the rarest of exceptions. Secondly, your revoltingly limited background in the arcane hardly substitutes as legitimate material on which to build true wizarding knowledge. (Thayvian wizards are trained from birth!) You are but a distracted little imp, likely to blow us all to bits with your air-headed stupidity. I will not humor you for even for a few weeks or months or however long I am stuck with this laughable group.}

She scowled, but then shrugged. {Fine then, I will not steal the book for you.} "Sucks to be you!"

{There must be something else you want,} he grimaced. {I would be willing to secure a sum of gold. (Or provide her with a pony, if she insists on being a impudent child...)}

"Nope."

He sneered and muttered to himself, {So, this is the reason for the little whelp's 'friendliness'. We might have known.} Then he lifted his voice. {Why not ask your dear Dynaheir, or your new elfin companion? Why ask me? And don't think me so stupid that you can flatter my vanity.}

{I do not want anyone else to know about it! I do not even really want to use it, I just... want to... to know more. I want to ask questions. I want to understand what I am reading when I look at scrolls. I want to recognize spells, and be able to identify wands. Xan is an enchanter, so he cannot even use magic missiles or lightning; and those are the two wands I have. And I am still mad at Dynaheir for that stunt she pulled with your spellbook.}

{You want to learn about phenomenal cosmic powers you then do not intend to use,} he stated in blatant disbelief. {(She must think us all idiots...)}

Imoen hesitated. {I never wanted to be a mage. If I had, I would have asked to be trained as one. I just... I find it fascinating. How it all works together. How the words and glyphs and the weave all combine... I guess I do not really want to learn magic so much as spellcraft. There are some really neat diagrams of protection circles in Xzar's spellbook, and all sorts of variants on them I think, but I can't understand them.}

His eyes widened. {You've stolen the book before!?}

Imoen grinned. {Plenty of times. He can write a dozen pages in a night, easy. All encoded. He uses it for a lot more than just spells.}

Edwin scowled, shifting slightly and touching his injured shoulder at a particularly sharp throb of pain. Then he leaned his head back a bit, eyeing her thoughtfully. {I will not teach you to spellcast. But I have a counter proposal you might find to be a suitable compromise. If you steal the book for me, then while I remain with the group I shall answer your (undoubtedly annoying, inane, and endless) questions about magical theory and the draconic language. Privately, I should hope, so that we may spare me my reputation and you the scrutiny of others. Is that term an acceptable substitute for you, little bibliophile?}

Imoen smirked. {Agreed!} She stepped up to shake his hand, and then swapped to using her off hand when she remembered why that might be necessary. He studied her for a moment and then took it, and they shook. {Alright! You will have to wait till I find the right opening. Should not be hard! Hey. Are you staying with the group, by the way?}

{Is the witch dead?}

{Er, no.}

He eyed her, as if asking if she were stupid. Did he really need to explain? Such unnecessary labor.

{Ha! Okay. Well, that's settled. Then for nowww... if you don't mind, I am going to go snuggle that halfling I mentioned, hee!}

Edwin grimaced and waved her off in annoyance.

{Sleep well, cranky wizard!}

Branwen had awoken to Xan eating a croissant. Now, sitting in front of plate laden with no less than ten croissants, the elf was desperately trying to figure out how he was going to consume so much fruit pastry and butter without exploding. He looked dismayed up at the Northeim woman, who lifted her brows expectantly.

Perhaps he ought to have a stern conversation with her. He was several hundred years old, and she was but a child compared to him. It was silly for her to be policing his eating habits. They had just met and hardly knew each other, and he was most certainly a grown man!

"I was wondering what was on your agenda for the day," Branwen opened after a moment. "There's nothing like exercise to get the appetite going, and I admit I was surprised to see how well you fought with that blade of yours. I didn't know wizards ever studied physical pursuits like swordplay."

"Well..." he squirmed, half preening, half embarrassed. "It was... specific to my family line... I am still surprised that I was chosen as its wielder at all. Not that I am ungrateful, I was always interested in its history, and I spent..." he trailed off as he noticed a smile on Branwen's face.

"Why don't we spar after breakfast?" she asked him. "You can exercise your spellbook and your sword all in one."

He considered her, crossing his arms over his chest. "... I can't eat all of these," he admitted, poking the croissants with one slender finger.

"That's the point," she agreed. "So, try. See how far you get. I'll help you with the leftovers."

"I am an adult, Branwen" he told her tactfully, leaning forward and pressing his palms together.

"Aye. One with an anxiety problem and a weak stomach," she agreed. "Who needs someone to push him a little."

"I hardly see why I should submit myself to this oversight," he said, lifting his head up indignantly.

I think you know I'm right," she grinned. "You've looked in a mirror lately? You look skeletal. You want to talk about doomed? You'll be a sight less doomed when your skin's not plastered against your bones."

"I agree with this intelligent woman!" exclaimed Minsc happily. "She knows a great deal about eating!"

Had Branwen been any other woman she might have made a very strange face and twisted to look at Minsc in feminine outrage. Dynaheir slapped a hand over her own face and sighed. The barbarian beamed unknowingly. Branwen wholeheartedly agreed: She did in fact know a great deal about eating!

Xan gave a dramatic sigh and took the next croissant. "Well, if I throw up from overeating, I'm blaming you madam," he told her frankly. Branwen laughed.

"I'll take the blame and find some tea to settle you."

The Harpers had returned and a number of the party members were engaged in looking over the various documents the group had collected on their journey. "Do you recognize any of these names?" Aegis was saying.

"I do not," Jaheira answered, and Dynaheir shrugged. " 'Tazok' does not sound like the Common tongue. I suspect a monstrous humanoid. Perhaps a hobgoblin like some of the bandits we've seen."

"It d-doesn't have the r-ring of the g-goblin language," Khalid disagreed.

"It could be Giant-Tongue," Dynaheir said slowly.

Aegis perked up. "Ogre?" she asked, sounding eager, her eyes glittering. "Ogr?" Minsc laughed and clapped her shoulder; he had similar feelings about gnolls.

"P-possible," Khalid nodded.

"Ogre..." Aegis murmured/seethed contently, and Xzar giggled at her.

"How did her whole fascination with killing ogres begin?" Xan queried.

"It has to do with my allergies," Aegis explained conversationally, and Branwen snorted. Xan looked confused up at their cleric for elaboration

Branwen winked at him. "She is highly allergic to anyone attacking wizards, it seems."

"And for some reason every last remaining gods be damned time I see an ogre, it is attacking a wizard! I hate them! I haven't met a single ogre I am even slightly okay with. I want to lime the world in dead ogres! I- oooh, I am getting all worked up. I need a drink just thinking about this."

Xzar was finding her tirade delightful. Xan was sure this was the strangest explanation he'd ever heard. Aegis snatched up some tea, drank, and sighed.

"Alright," Aegis said to Xan, "you're right, you deserve a better explanation." She went on to describe her ogre encounters to Xan. In the first one, her father died. In the second one, Xzar had been getting crushed. In at least two others, a carnival wizard died and Edwin got an arm torn off while Dynaheir was nearly raped. All other ogre and half-ogre encounters were apparently a red blurr in the ranger's mind. In summary, it was clear:

"The woman doesn't like ogres," Branwen confirmed. Xan looked at them like they were all mad, but as if he were rapidly getting quite used to them anyway.

"This other document says a contact named 'Tranzig' might be coming through Beregost-" Jaheira was reading.

Branwen spun around in her chair and barked, "Say that name again!"

Jaheira lifted her head. "Tranzig. Some kind of wizard, it seems?"

"That Loki-spawned miserable excuse for a man!" Branwen bellowed, rising to her feet and coming over to have a look at the letters. "That's the man who petrified me! Through a twisted trick!"

"You were affiliated with bandits?" Jaheira asked, surprised.

"You were petrified?" Xan asked, bewildered.

"Yes!" Minsc explained. "Though it was not clear to me at first how we rescued her, Boo later explained the little Purple One stole an important scroll from a cowardly man! I did not ask for details, though; magic is not my strong suite. Minsc thinks more wizards should use swords, eh!" He gently elbowed Dynaheir. Dyneheir showed no sign she'd be picking up a Moonblade any time soon.

"I only wished to test my mettle in combat!" Branwen explained to them defensively. "I joined a troupe who promised me just that, and I was fine with crossing blades with mercenaries and guards, but when I saw were attacking helpless farmers and killing or capturing unarmed caravan merchants-! That I would not stand for!" She crossed her arms over her chest. "So I confronted my group and told them to abandon their ignoble ways! But our leader, Tranzig, took me aside to have a word with me. Little did I suspect the charmed basilisk he used upon me!"

Garrick blinked, and pointed out: "But we found you at a carnival!"

"I know not how I ended up a side-attraction for the amusement of common folk, but it seems Tempus guided my helpless body true to bring me to your group. And now your path crosses Tranzig's! I should love dearly to pay him back!"

"Welll," Aegis drawled, looking over her latest cup of tea down at the letter. "Looks like you're going to have a chance. He's expected in Beregost in a few days. We can dawdle around here recovering, send our friends on their way," she nodded to Khalid and Xzar, "and then have a chat with Tranzig."

"In that case," said Xan, using a quick Prestidigitation cantrip to float two croissants back to the innkeeper's stores while Branwen's back was turned. "Branwen, you should tell us what you have seen of this Tranzig's magic abilities. Anything you can remember may help us determine his tactics and plan for them."

"Been meaning to ask," Aegis remembered. "Dynaheir, Minsc; are you two staying with the party or heading out on your own? You aren't under any obligation to stay, even for helping you at the gnoll fortress. Edwin would no doubt leave as well; so you'd have to consider he'll be close on your tail."

Dynaheir smiled warmly at the concern. "Indeed, and it seems if we also left, this group would shrink from twelve to five."

"A ranger, a wizard, a thief, a bard, and a cleric? It still sounds like a perfect party," Aegis was sure. "Though it would wreck havoc on my wizard collection. Do you think one day I can get eight; one for every school? I'd like to keep them color-coded for clarity."

The witch, who had slowly been getting used to their strange ways, now found this quirky rather than insulting and laughed. "It would be an endeavor. Thine party may have one wizard, but taking on an entire bandit camp would be akin to a small war. Thou will need help, and we are inclined to give it. If Edwin continues to tag along, then we may again be able to lend you the force you'll need for few to take on many."

"Yes!" agreed Minsc, "All of those nasty bandits need a swift quick in the morals! And my boots are ready for kicking!"

Aegis agreed, "Glad to have you guys on board. I guess I have to have this same chat with Edwin then. In that case, I think I'll wait till Immy's up again. My specialty's madmen, not angry men. He still tends to try and bully me into something about fifty percent we have cause to speak. The ratio's improving, but..."

Khalid agreed, "Imoen does s-seem to have d-developed a knack for getting u-under his skin. Have we h-heard how he's recovering?"

"He's awoken," said Dynaheir. "And his fingers work, which is the most important thing from his perspective, no doubt."

"It is a wonder he has not set her on fire yet," Jaheira muttered.

"Perhaps I shall study her and come to possess the diplomatic tools for ending a centuries long conflict between our nations," Dynaheir was clearly feeling a little jovial. "But I have watched her, and I worry her bountiful affability and her penchant for worming into so many bitter hearts will inevitably only cause her pain. She bares too much of herself in exchange for too little. I worry about her with the halfling."

"You are preaching to the choir. Though most days I worry more about the ranger than the thief," Jaheira muttered.

Aegis decided to give this some consideration instead of accrediting it just to two women bashing men they disliked. She looked over at Xzar and asked, "Should I be worried about my sister?" 

"Physically? A little," her distracted necromancer answered. The current object of his hyperfixation appears to be a fly. He had let it settle on his hand and refrained from bothering it, watching as it with clear fascination cleaned nearly imperceptible oils from his breakfast from his fingers. He tilted the limb gently from side to side.

"Xzar?"

"Hmm? Oh. One doesn't enjoy Darkhold that long without-" the fly had been lured into his palm and he closed his hand suddenly, snatching the insect mid-escape between thumb and forefinger. He showed Aegis, " -growing hazy on the definition of some words. Words like 'ally,' or 'friend,' or 'lover.'" Xzar released the fly. It flew dazedly off. "But then: no motive," He smiled lazily at his lover. "No profit."

Aegis thought about this. Montaron had stopped to get Imoen safely across the kobold bridge, so he was clearly capable of more loyalty than either Dynaheir or Xzar imagined (though neither wizard had been present to witness that event).

"And you?" Dynaheir wondered aloud with less suspicion than Jaheira might have. "What motives have you that we should worry about, green wizard?"

Xzar giggled. "Jaheira is a poopy head," he oozed childishly in response.

Montaron stirred at her touch but didn't say anything as she coiled up around him. The bright light leaking through the window curtains made it hard to sleep well. "I can't believe we're not only a live but didn't get sighted by a single guard," she giggled sleepily, nuzzling into his hair.

"Woulda been a hell of a lot simpler if ye'd just let me cut the fool at the start," he said back, though his voice was not unkind. They'd lived, and they'd gotten their haul, and the adrenaline of the night had been charged with the energy of victory.

"It was an innocent person!" she complained with a laugh.

Montaron was quiet for a moment. "Aye," he said in a low voice, letting it sink in that Imoen's words had completely and utterly different meanings to both of them. "It were." Abruptly sobered, he rested a hand on one of her arms, wanting to touch her.

"I'm sorry I risked us, though," she mumbled.

He opened his eyes and looked slowly over at her. The elation of success and excitement was fading, and though he fought to throttle down on it he found himself stewing in a budding resentment. With a mute oath at Cyric, he rubbed his face and slipped his other hand from her arm to her hip. She was going to get him killed, and a part of him hated her for it.

"Maybe next time I won't listen ta ye, then," he muttered.

"We did the right thing and you know it," she giggled tiredly.

Montaron looked back at her with a bitter scowl. "Nae, I don't: Right for who?" He paused, but she didn't open her eyes. "I ain't as bleeding-hearted as ye, Pink. Ye keep pretendin' so, yer gonna be hurt."

Imoen didn't say anything and instead hugged to him more tightly. He frowned, almost wanting to hit her upside the head or prod her in some other way to smother her damn optimism. And you know what? He had just the topic.

Don't. Not the time for saying it. Ain't fair. Not like-

"Pink, I and the wizard will need ta be leavin' soon."

Her eyes opened and she perked up, looking at him in dismayed surprise.

"Information ta ferry," he told her. "After that, dinnae know where we'll be. Back ta Moonsea, maybe. Sure as hell will be glad to get away from th' damn Harpers."

A moment of silence passed between them, as her brows came together and her mouth dripped into a frown.

Fuck you, old fool. That the look ye wanted to see?

It was; the expression she wore was so satisfying he felt like laughing in her face. That's what she got for being a soft little snot who constantly ran them into trouble and then acted like he ought'n't be peeved! Plus, it meant she was going to miss him.

Montaron didn't feel guilty one whit. Fact, he made it a point not to ever feel guilty about anything he did. That didn't mean he couldn't be pissed at himself for risking a deliberate shot at Imoen, of all people, and undermining himself in the process. There were few enough people Montaron liked or who liked him back. And for all the trouble she caused him, Imoen was a good kid.

"Oh," she said at last, her voice monotone. "When?"

Montaron shrugged. "Few days," he answered as honestly as he could. He wasn't delicate about it and no doubt his words came off as callous and uncaring.

"Oh," she repeated. She said nothing for a moment, and then lowered her head and nuzzled more firmly back into his side, closing her eyes again.

Ya old fool, ya own ma would spit on ye fah being such a dumb shit. She's a good girl. What was that for? Ya trying ta feel tough or something, and carving it out of the lass who's got her breasts smashed up against ya aft? Pfeh.

He watched her quietly for a few moments, his fingers tightening gently against her as if the feeling of her skin could ground him and cool his temper. Then he looked away and tried to get some shut eye. He didn't want to feel resentment, but he did. Maybe it was best he didn't apologize; this wasn't the type of girl he was going to get to keep. Distance alone would be half the problem, but judgement was a mighty big runner up.

Ye mustn't want her badly enough. Pity. Hin or naught, think of their faces if ya'd brought home the girl who carries goat cheese everywhere.

Chapter Text

When Xzar headed out to use the latrine, Aegis followed shortly after. She waited outside the inn for him. When he returned he gave her an unsurprised look and moved to join her.

"You're leaving," she opened.

"Technically I was just coming back," he pointed out, only then to surprise her by immediately regaining the thread of the actual topic, "but if you mean partnership with the group? Then yes." It seemed he was still holding fast to some sanity.

Aegis fidgeted. "Am I supposed to wait?"

He blinked pale green eyes dumbly. "Where?" He looked around.

She shook her head. "Are you coming back to us some time after you leave the group, eventually?"

"In theory? One rabbit hole leads naturally to the next in this instance, and if the spiritual affiliations remain constant, then I am enjoying the hunt. The half-pig is no true culprit to lay blame on; so I think my employer willllll want to know more; our name is still being spewed on streets from here to Baldur's Gate, and we want that clear. But... by now we may report to find there are bigger or more immediate eggs to smash, or that we need different tools than the red lady's party. I cannot answer for certain."

Aegis gestured that they should walk. He followed her willingly and hummed tunelessly. She took awhile to speak before telling him: "You should quit."

He glanced at her quickly and lifted a brow, but immediately understood her. It wasn't Aegis's imagination; Xzar was considerably more put-together recently than he had ever been before. "Quit? My employment? For you? Quite a sacrifice. Why do you want this? To prove something? To fix something? To wash out the stains from the fabric of heroism?"

His ranger answered sharply: "To keep my wizard with me. Honestly, you know I'm pretty straightforward. Why even ask all that?"

"Shall I quit alchemy while I'm at it?" he thought aloud. "Specialize in something cute like abjuration? Become a bard?"

Aegis realized he was belittling her request. "You suddenly find it hard to believe I don't much mind you the way you are? Why? That's how I found you, isn't it? And here we are. Apparently you've contented yourself with the way I am, despite how most days my behavior seems to give you cavities."

He chuckled at that and rubbed his cheek as if it hurt him. "Welllll..."

His Candlekeep girl smirked at him. "You can have as many skeletons as you want, 'dear,' as long as you permit me to regulate where you source them from."

"Hmm! Cannot tell if compromising, patronizing, or simply lacking adequate appreciation for the spontaneity of art..." He thought girlishly with a finger on his cheek. Then a manic glee overcame him. "What happens when we encounter an albino elf and I absolutely must have his eyes!?"

"Well, we shut some doors to open others, Xzar. Illusions for skeletons; Undeserving elf eyes for happy womenfolk," she offered hopefully

"A pox on womenfolk!" he hollered, and then, "No," he said suddenly and a little sadly, "I cannot quit."

Aegis hesitated, because his choice of words struck her as significant. "Cannot or will not?" she asked quickly.

The harlequin lips twisted into a smirk. "Cannot," he emphasized to his lover, glad she had perceived this detail.

This was new information. What exactly was Xzar and Montaron's situation? Why had they been made to work together when they so clearly hated each other? True, with Jaheira and Khalid against them they'd given up most of their bickering to focus on a mutual threat, but she still remembered how they bellyached over each other's peculiarities in the earlier stages of the party.

And then there was how Xzar had describing getting a 'new' spellbook after 'losing' an original. Though she didn't ask, she realized Xzar's madness might actually be a somewhat recent condition. Something terrible had happened to him, she wagered. "What the devil did you do to end up stuck in a 'cannot'?"

Xzar rolled his eyes. "I hate rabbits; do you need to ask? I made a mess! Rabbits here, rabbits there! Rabbits diced and stewed; skinned, stretched, and tanned! Glorious!" He looked up at her. "Warned you once what you picked to mate with. Warned many times."

"Ah: Rabbits. That would explain a hard fall and a short leash. If your claim to fame is the mass slaughter of Cyrites, doesn't that put you, me, and in some case the Harpers, all in the same line of work?" she asked him innocently.

The necromancer shuddered, looking as horrified as if he had just stepped in a huge pile of horse dung. "That was the most unspeakably awful thing you have ever said to me. It's like you have no care for my feelings whatsoever!" he sniffed, crossing his arms over his slender chest and sticking his nose in the air.

Aegis grinned. "I mean, if it had been the slaughter of orphans, or puppies, or elves-!"

"I've done that too!" he insisted, looking at her in indignant frustration, though she could also see an underlying agitation.

"More recently than Cyrites?" she wondered coyly as she knitted together her memories about the necromancer. Xzar felt unusually well-informed on a great many topics he shouldn't have. As she stretched her mind, she realized it was no great reach to suppose he might have fallen from a position of prestige... And lost a great deal in the process, sanity included.

"... You- you- you Banshee, It's only that I haven't had the chance yet!" the painted man complained of her.

She smirked, satisfied. "Good. You can pledge your undying devotion to me over the bodies of a whole bunch of incredibly alive and unharmed elves, puppies, and orphans, while raising their dead ancestors as a horde of mummies to save the town they live in from a malicious warlock. Then we can high tail it out of there when they come after us in mob for for desecrating the dead. Alas, we shall never be understood no matter where we go, we two experts on death..."

As she spoke, he looked more and more disturbed, agitated, and ready to engage in an act of spontaneous and chaotic madness. "I am not a vigilante!" he shrieked, clutching at his head as if she were hurting him. "I hate you! Stop talking, you are burning my mind!"

She grinned and slipped her arm around him. "You know what the bards called us last night in their songs down at the Belching Dragon?" she asked, using her other hand to sweep across the air as if painting a picture.

He looked at her hesitantly, lowering his hands to hear but worried that he might not want to know.

"They called us, 'The Heroes of Nashkel.'" His eyes widened in horror. "Yes. That's you, Xzar. A famous Hero of Nashkel! Renown throughout the lands of Northern Amn and south of Baldur's Gate! A Savior of the People of Nashkel!"

"I need an orphan right now," the necromancer whimpered, his pout pulling the tattooed smile into a strange curvaceous shape. "A really fat one, and blind, holding a puppy. Please make sure it's at least half elf."

She broke out laughing. "Do you really care who you're working for, or who benefits, as long as you're allowed to play with dead things and no one forces you to stop?"

He hissed, because she'd just said something very contradictory about skeletons and eyes moments earlier. "You would force me to curtail my art, you said so yourself! Necromancy does not bend to quaint morality; That would be 'stopping' me."

"Xzar, that's ridiculous. I'm not preventing you from using your necromancy. Most anyone who runs around slaughtering people inevitably ends up on everyone's hit list with zero friends, regardless of whether they're using them for spare parts or not. Don't blame me for the contingent of fair folk on your ass if you start killing albino elves.

He looked at her with narrowed eyes. "You think everywhere in the world is like the Sword Coast? You think every organization of 'friends' is like your monks at Candlekeep, or the Flaming Fist, Byatskhan Moratuk?" he asked her. "You are naive. Other lands are neither so open nor so innocent as these."

"Well... We're here now..." she hesitated. He studied her and she frowned. Gorion had read her many stories about the world. She knew there were many lands in the world where cruel people held power. The Moonsea region and Thay were only two of many examples. But she supposed it had never occurred to her how real people, people like those she lived and traveled with, could have completely different expectations for normality; and for consequences. It had not dawned on her that, to them, it could be normal for there to exist plenty of open avenues for causing abhorrent forms of suffering onto others.

"That we are," Xzar allowed, eyes shuttered a little judgmentally. "For now."

Aegis may have lost one item of this debate, but she wasn't ready to give up: "Everything I've ever read about Moonsea paints the region as miserable, with an abysmal life span and the two main causes of death being stampede by raging dragon armies and stabbed by one's paranoid neighbor. Isn't the Coast better?" she asked him desperately.

He sneered derisively, pushed her arm away, and walked a foot apart from her.

Aegis let her arm fall back to her side and thought about this for a bit. "So, once, you did have that kind of freedom to experiment with necromancy. No consequences. Provided by the Zhentarim," she realized. "You spoke of vivisecting a Bhaalspawn. But if that's why you prefer your home, it's not a good enough reason. It didn't last, and it never could have. There's no stability in anything if everyone hates and fears everyone else."

"That's part of the fun." He glanced at her, deflating a little because her innocence was... well cute and familiar on her if nothing else. "You are a Death opposed to death, Nature Childe. You won't last long."

The corner of her mouth quirked up. "Xzar I walked into this town covered in ogre entrails and kobold brains."

He sneered. "Your blood will demand more of you. More than your silly morality will let you give. One will have to break: you or your ideas."

"You don't even think that's true anymore," she reminded him. "I remember! You dropped that idea entirely when we started sleeping together, and you've voided it numerous times by telling me to follow my own path."

That actually seemed to frustrate him a little, as if he couldn't make up his mind or had stumbled into an irritating contradiction he wanted to hand-wave away.

Aegis sighed, seeing that this was getting nowhere. If anything, the two of them had gone backwards from where she'd wanted. But what had she expected? She'd chosen to speak candidly with Xzar about some very dark things. It was easy to ignore fundamental underlying problems with their match when they both had the same goal and similar means. But now...

Aegis took in a long, slow breath and remembered knowing that this conversation could never have been easy, and so its current state of awkwardness didn't mean she ought to give up hope. Still, she was a little afraid to push farther, because doing so would undoubtably open ugly topics wider. After stabilizing her feelings, she finally asked: "How long do I wait to see if you come back?"

He looked back at her. "What is the question?"

"A week? A month? A year? A decade? How long do maintain a stance of 'unavailable for courtship' in the hopes my necromancer comes back to me? When do I give up?"

That surprised him. "An hour?" he asked, flabbergasted.

"Xzar!" she exclaimed with an incredulous laugh. "How little you think of me!"

"There are plenty of warm bodies out there," he said, confused. "Many bodies, and many wizards, if that's your fetish."

My sweet and troubled madman. How do I have this conversation with you? I haven't my father's intellect. Please keep talking to me, at least. Please don't dismiss me and give up because my feelings are a little cliche from your angle.

"Well, that's one thing better about the Coast," she pointed out to him, "you at least know I'm not having sex with you because I want to steal your soul."

"Do I?" he asked suspiciously. 

Aegis lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose for a moment as she gathered her thoughts. Then she lowered her hand and responded: "Xzar, I don't want plenty of warm bodies, be they wizards, humans, elves, or otherwise. I want one. Just one. You. Just you."

He laughed, then looked very disturbed. "Why?"

Aegis smiled at him. So much she might even have felt a blush on her cheeks. "Where would I find another you?"

"Well, with a properly equipped lab..." he started.

She shook her head. "There is something inexplicable I adore about you, wizard—or, more than likely, multiple somethings all added together—and so I find you to be irreplaceable," she told him as clearly as she could.

The madman fidgeted, and it was clear he did not find this conversational direction at all comfortable. "...Unlikely," he told her.

"Look. I didn't push this conversation because I want to 'fix' you in the name of Great Goodness or something. I'm... just... I don't want to lose you."

"I could see how you might accidentally misplace me, but find it irrelevant to this conversation," the madman muttered, very agitated and watching her with wide eyes.

More explicit wording. "... I don't want to end up bereft of your company because of how odd a match we are; and I was trying to identify the core of what each of us might really need to be happy, to try and find a... compromise. Someplace, some standard, some common ground we could stick together on."

He continued to watch her now, homing in on her words and clearly coming back out of his agitation, but saying nothing.

"You and I have completely different criteria for when it is acceptable to kill someone. My criteria are more stringent than yours. Regardless of what else I am, or how doomed you think me to be, I'm a protector. I don't stand by and watch people get hurt. I like helping people." She ran her fingers through her hair. "So with enough convincing, errands, heroics, poppy milk, and money, I'm sure you could convince even the most bewildered elf to donate an eye. Assuming you regenerated a new one for them when you were done."

The necromancer shook his head. "And what if I enjoy people's suffering?"

Aegis deflated slightly, an unhappy fear settling in her belly. "Depends how irreplaceable I am to you, then," she admitted in a quiet voice.

He considered her and the way her shoulders slumped. "You are a daughter of Murder; you are prophesied to bring disorder and chaos to the realm; to live a brutal life cloaked in death, intrigue, and the mania of bloodlust, all as your father's last 'gift' to the world. And you are telling me your defining point for happiness is... preventing unnecessary death and suffering according to arbitrary moral rules you were taught by a harem of monks?"

"That and having lots of pets," she said with a spot of cheer. "Fluffy ones. At least a thousand cats. And alcohol. I may need the occasional bar fight, or to take up hunting, but I assume those are easier points to reach agreement on." Xzar was watching her like he was in pain; tooth pain, perhaps. "In my defense, I tend to bristle under unwelcomed authority figures, and I'm to understand my blood father was a bit of an asshole, anyways."

Xzar twitched slightly and looked away. His voice sounded somewhat estranged, and he said: "Bhaal was a very powerful god. He kept himself in the minds of all living people. Fear united them and gave them a reverence for what lurked in the dark. Cyric is a terrible excuse for a god of anything but Petulance, Fools' Luck, and Insanity. His name means 'Lord' but he is just a knave."

The conversation had homed back to a neutral ground, and Aegis tried again, hoping her efforts weren't in vain: "Xzar, What baseline do you need to be happy?"

His frown tremendously wrinkled his forehead as he looked up in thought. "Happy. The word is trite to me. I... I have never considered the question," he decided. "I know what I dislike. I know what I like... As for setting a bar, I live more in the moment."

"You need a space to work," she suggested after a moment, because all wizards inevitably did.

"Spell components, books, tools..." he agreed

"An astrolabe, wards, summoning circles... Good water intake and sewers for maintaining cleanliness..." she pushed a little farther.

"Relative nearness to mundane resources like food, linens, and livestock; access to the plane of negative energy; hand-made guards." He towed the line. If she kept this up, he was going to mention prison cells, racks-

Which was when she hit him with: "Bodies, vats, storage caskets, drying racks, preservation spices, a bunch of quaint candelabras made of skulls and vertebrae, a whole system of paranoid-wizard-scrying wards all made from bottled eyes that turn to follow a person as they walk past, an army of mummified and permanently hasted rats scurrying in the walls, ready to swarm interlopers with their little gnashing teeth and black rotting fangs..."

Xzar's features went slack and his mouth gaped open. Aegis peered over at him innocently. He looked as if he'd seen a ghost.

She gave him a little smirk. "It's like you think I have no idea what 'necromancer' means... Or that I haven't watched you dissect gibberlings and casually asked you what you wanted their spleens for... I mean I'm sure you could imagine worse than I, but I think if we're setting baselines here..."

His brows furrowed together again and his mouth shut. She couldn't tell if he was ... irritated? Spooked? Dismissing? Insulted? Disturbed? Patronized?

"Say something, please? ... I am open to negotiation. I'm serious I-I... I just really want to at least try to-"

"Your foster father was a Harper," Xzar reminded her abruptly. "He spent his entire life fighting monsters like me."

"Well I'm not asking you to be one, if that's what's got you all worked up. And no, he didn't. He didn't spend his whole life fighting, I mean. He spent his last twenty years raising me." She sighed, rubbing the back of her head and looking up at the sky. Then she shrugged and dropped her hand. "... Never mind. I tried."

A strangled sound came from her madman. She looked at him. He snorted, coughed slightly, and then sputtered out a laugh. Then he was giggling, lifting up a hand to cover half his face. "J-jar of... of..." He was already writing the incantations in his head. "How did you think of that?"

"Being morbid apparently runs in the family," she reminded him. "I was also entertaining the idea of a chair with actual legs; I was thinking either pig or giant spider legs... I couldn't decide. Then I realized there was no way I would want to sit on that. Comfort objects and dinnerware are totally off limits."

He cackled, covering his face and eyes and doubling up a little. "Y-you-! Saidulk minia, bima in ta dergzetd urvuprev örgögdölext medesimt!" he laughed. The look on his face concerned her; he almost looked on the verge of anguish. "Ta galzti nebain!"

"What does that mean?" she asked, concerned and disheartened.

He looked up at her. "Ta galzti nebain," he said, softer. "Ta: You. Galzti: Mad, Insane. Nebain: Are, one of many versions of the verb 'to be'. Unmodified, the grammar is Subject-Object-Verb. You mad are. You are mad."

"T... Ta gal.." she hazarded.

"Galzti," he breathed.

"Ta galzti nebain, Xzar."

He broke out laughing manically again, drawing the glances of some bewildered farmers hundreds of yards away in the open Nashkel fields. Xzar looked at her, himself, and the space between the two of them; then he quickly closed that space as if it had offended him in some way. Aegis caught his shoulders

"Sevenigüi: Perfect!" he chimed gaily, touching her face and grinning, pressing flush into her. "Eyeballs!" he squealed. "Muurnakh: Mine!"

Aegis didn't dare to hope;how far she could she interpret 'mine' ? But he didn't stop there. He rubbed the whole of himself into her; like a cat, like an animal.

"Muurnakh, muurnakh!" he purred and snickered, nuzzling enthusiastically. She wouldn't have been surprised if he'd started hiccuping or broken down crying; he seemed genuinely hysterical and she quickly wrapped both arms tightly around him, hugging him crushingly close.

"Hey, hey!" she pleaded. "Calm down. Xzar. Xzar." He went still, panting into her and shaking slightly, a bright grin splitting his cheshire smile so wide it broke the illusion of it.

"Aegis," he almost wept. "Aegis. I want my eyeball-mummy-jar-rats lair," he acquiesced. "I should- ha!- like that lair. Hehehahahah! That could be happy enough. Ha! Ah... Ah... Aeg... Hehehe!"

She rubbed his back "There will be absolutely no usage of elf eyes," she told him in a very quiet voice, voice hushed and worried but on the verge of playful excitement. "Only approved eye sources will be permitted and they need to be extracted post mortem. There are going to be rules!"

"I don't care. I don't care!" he agreed, nuzzling his face into her hair. "Heheheh! Oh, oh, oh-heehee! Don't! Care! Moaratuk! Saidulk Byatskhan Moaratuk! Hahah! Y-y-mn..." He made a happy sound when she kissed him. He wrapped both arms about her neck and then moaned, because he felt damned and redeemed and he wanted her. Wanted her in a way he had never wanted anything.

He wanted the nonsense of something like him being with something like her. He wanted the chaos of her internal contradictions. His fingers caressed happily through her hair and over her face, because there was nothing more fascinating in the world than his Little Death and her Radiant Mask of Flowers. Harper nature girl; dissecting kobolds for divination wards made of eyeballs; too phenomenal a mixture!

Aegis kissed him repeatedly. "Does... does that mean I wait longer than an hour for you to come back before putting the ground on my left hand side back on the market for occupation by eccentric wizards?" she asked between kisses.

"That dirt is mine!" he protested. "Hahahah! Muurnakh, mine, every ounce of it, mine! Oh! Oh-oh-oh... Oh. Hehehahahahah! Aegis! I'm broken. I'm broken. Ha. Ngh. Mmm. Broked-ed... Mm."

"You are definitely 'broked-ed,' " she growled possessively, kissing his neck now and earning calmer purrs of contentment from him. He liked this; she could tell. They could both feel his high coming gently down. "But I love you anyway."

He leaned his head on her shoulder and shuddered into her, closing his eyes, clinging for the insane sensations of stability and safety, sensations one such as she should have never been able to provide. Her name is Aegis.

"Come back to me," she murmured, rubbing over his back and through his hair and trailing kisses. "Okay?"

He murmured wordlessly, drained and happy.

Something of a weight had been lifted off Aegis's shoulders. A few more had settled in their place, but these were burdens she'd chosen voluntarily, now. Xzar was quiet, and for once it appeared this was not because he was too distracted by spiderwebbed ideas to chatter. His expression suggested a tranquil state of mind. As they walked back to the inn he stayed close to her side, an arm coiled around hers almost girlishly. He might have rested his head on her shoulder if he were but a little shorter; he seemed tired already.

They had been walking off-road so as to keep their conversation private, and ended up approaching the inn from the wrong side. As they headed down the alley between it and the general store to reach the front, a figure in black suddenly skid out in front of them. He was moving so swiftly Aegis immediately suspected he'd either cast a spell upon himself or imbibed an oil of speed. She paused.

"Hello."

Every instinct in her body flared to life. She had no armor, but her axe was belted as always at her side. When she reached for it, the man in black laughed:

"I am Death come for thee. Surrender, and they passage shall be quicker."

"No," Xzar disagreed. "You most definitely are not. I would know." He jerked a thumb at Aegis. "She is, though."

Whatever range of responses the assassin had been prepared for, a rebuttal clearly wasn't among them. His hood obscured the top part of his face, but his mouth pulled a quizzical frown. "Excuse me?"

"I'm going to give you a chance," Aegis tried her hand at another intimidation while watching his feet more than anything. She remembered vividly how a Haste spell had helped her cut through an army of kobolds just days previously. If this assassin came at her, she'd have only the barest of opportunities to try and intercept him. "One chance. Walk away. You aren't the first assassin; and you won't be the last. I've killed so many I'm losing count."

That was more in line with banter the assassin had expected: "Nimbul could say the same: You are not my first mark. Struggle if you must, I do not mind working for my money. But see, Numbul waited. You're unarmored and isolated. All it will take is a nick, just a cut..."

"I have a druid, a cleric, a poisons master, an assassin, and an entire Temple of Helm to put me together. Who's going to reassemble you?"

"You will never touch me," he laughed, lifting a hand of throwing daggers pressed casually between the digits. "Nimbul is no fool; he knows how to pick off a slow calf from a big herd."

Xzar closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. "Mmm. I can taste the Talon's Flex in the air," he murmured happily. "Good distillation; rich metallic flavor." He opened his eyes to catlike slits and smiled mischievously. "Don't mind him, dear. He thinks himself perfectly safe. He can flee faster than you can pursue, you have no armor, he is ranged, and his knives are dipped in a paralytic."

Once more, Xzar's nonchalance seemed to throw 'Nimbul' off balance. The visible hesitation in the lines of his body suggested Xzar had correctly identified a poison at range. By smell? That seemed absurd. Unless the whole thing was a well-veiled educated guess?

Aegis tried to play off her lover better this time: "I don't think he knows I've torn a ghoul's head off with my bare hands."

"Even if he did, I don't think he knows I spice our morning tea specifically with Flex antidote in case Montaron ever 'accidentally' stabs you again... One supposes that is the advantage to being his alchemist and knowing what he has available."

What? Aegis tried to glance his way without looking away from Nimbul, surprised but not stupid.

Xzar shrugged fabulously. "You told me to worry about Death, did you not?"

The assasssin shook his head. "Nimbul calls this bluff! Antidote? What antidote? Nimbul calls you out to name it!"

"Talona's Flex is rendered harmless in the presence of a drop of silver salts," Xzar answered, and the assassin blanched. "And now you have talked through the first half minute of your haste spell while standing but a few yards away from a proven berserker. You should be more careful what names you use for yourself; someone might dislike your arrogance."

Chapter Text

The assassin, Nimbul, wasn't smiling now. He was backing up fearfully. Then with a snarl of dismay, he threw a knife towards Xzar and began casting some spell. Aegis muscled Xzar swiftly behind her and the weapon skimmed her off-handed shoulder. She had to hope either Xzar hadn't been bluffing or that her natural hardiness would handle the poison!

"Be swift!" the necromancer insisted, as Aegis bolted to catch this enemy before he could finish whatever spell he was casting! But then, unexpectedly, the assassin gave a violent, full-body jerk. His eyes flew open wide and his spell was lost. He stared dumbly for a moment, still clearly frozen. Aegis skid to a halt just in front of him, confused by the lack of reaction. A moment later, Nimbul lowered his arms and turned, peering behind himself with an almost forty-five degree tilt of his head.

Xan was at the end of the alleyway, and was approaching them all with Branwen in tow. "Assassins indeed," the elf muttered, walking past Nimbul that he might inspect Aegis and Xzar. "Are you both alright?"

"I don't know," answered Aegis, looking to Xzar. "Are you? Am I?"

The necromancer was digging around in one of his pouches for a small vial. "Let's make sure," he decided, pouring out a bead of a substance onto one finger and then lifting his hand to her face. She obliged him by letting him place it on her tongue and then swallowing.

"So you weren't bluffing?" she asked. "You put diluted antidotes in my tea?" Xan glanced at them in surprise midway through surveying Nimbul. "Since when?"

Her necromancer only smiled sweetly, tucking away the vial. But Nimbul wanted more of an explanation than that:

"How do you know so much about poisons?" the assassin asked curiously. "It is not easy to get the Flex this far west. Nimbul still had a good horror spell as backup, but..."

Xzar rolled his eyes. "I would recommend you study your quarry's party harder next time," he suggested. "And not select poison as your weapon of choice against any group consisting of no less than two of your fellow Zhents."

Nimbul looked him up and down. "Ah," he realized. "That explains it. Nimbul seems to recall two... Harpers, though?"

Branwen and Aegis were both staring at the assassin like he had two heads. Neither of them had ever seen a charm spell before up close and personal before, and the sight of the assassin standing there, guileless and talkative, unnerved them. Whatever they'd expected, it wasn't this.

Xzar didn't have anything to say about Jaheira and Khalid. He looked to Xan. "May I?" he inquired.

Xan waved a hand to tell him to wait. "Nimbul, was it?" the elf asked. The assassin nodded. "And you are a paid bounty hunter of some kind? Would you please show us your bounty notice or... contract perhaps? I'd like to see this for myself."

Nimbul blinked sleepily for a moment but eventually seemed to find this to be a reasonable request. He reached into a pouch at his hip and dug out the requested document, offering it to Xan. Xan took and read it carefully.

"This is supposed to be an assassin?" Branwen asked of Aegis. "What's wrong with him?" Aegis didn't know, she was directly a simpler albeit wordless question to Xzar.

"It is a form of enchantment that works on the mind, called a charm," the necromancer explained calmly. "A good one. Our elf is no spring chicken."

"Tell that several times more to the cleric behind me, please," Xan muttered. "Nimbul, I'm curious. What is your normal fee? The contract mentioned it. What does a job like this cost?"

The assassin gave a smug grin. "Five thousand, plus expenses," he told them proudly. "If you ever want to get into this line of work, let Nimbul tell you this: Never work for cheap because you could be the next dead one. Value each kill like you'd value your own life."

Xan nodded. "I see. That is a clever irony, Nimbul; Is the fee paid in diamonds?"*

"Yes! But for portability more than anything, since Nimbul has no cleric," the assassin agreed with a laugh. "Two or three is safest."

"But treasures like that could easily be stolen or lost while working," Xan disagreed. "Or heavens, even commandeered as part of a bribe to avoid arrest."

"Always spend most of it on gear before the hit. Stash the rest till it's done," Nimbul advised. "You can do like Nimbul; pick a memorable tree by a distinctive bend in the road. Bore a hole for the gems and mark it with your initials like a lover. Match it to your escape route. Nimbul plans to go to the Friendly Arm after hit, so the payment stays on the Golden Way. Easy."

"Does the charm make him... dumber?" Aegis asked with a wince. "Isn't he at least part mage?"

"Hey!" the assassin protested, offended. "I most certainly am a mage."

Xzar rolled his eyes at her. "You have met the Thayvian, and you still think good judgement is a requirement for casting spells?"

"Well, I'm personally glad for all this good advice," Xan stressed, hoping his tone made his group mates fall silent before they wasted the usefulness of his charm and accidentally made one too many logical holes for Nimbul to escape through. "Nimbul, advise me. When I'm following a quarry, should I give up if I am defeated and arrested?"

"No! Amnish soldiers are particularly easy to bribe. If you have a contract like one of these, you can't just walk away. You end up on the wrong side of really bad people; and no one trusts you to get the job done any more."

"Sound wisdom," Xan agreed with a sigh, seeing that there was no alternative to killing the assassin. "Xzar, could you...?"

"My pleasure," the necromancer answered, bowing grandiosely before standing and rounding the assassin. He came up behind the man reciting draconic in sing-song. Aegis moved up alongside Xan, to help if needed.

The assassin looked slightly nervous, and the ranger winced at how pathetically helpless he was to defend himself. She realized then that when a person was alone, charm spells were absolutely terrifying. A fireball might be able to level a small army, but only a charm spell could turn a person's mind against itself.

Then Xzar lunged, his Ghoul Touch liming his fingertips in green light as he grabbed Nimbul by the throat and cut off air. As the charm broke, the assassin choked and flailed in alarm just an instant before going rigid with paralysis. Xan calmly lifted up his moonblade and pressed the tip unceremoniously into Nimbul's chest. Xzar stepped out of the way. The end was at least clean and quick.

This time, they were already the Heroes of Nashkel when they ended up explaining to Amnish authorities what had happened. Berrun Ghastkill shook his head, waving off the guards from each side of them before favoring Aegis with a bemused look. He glanced briefly at where Xzar was again leaning comfortably up against her side.

"That's the second assassination attempt since you've been here. Someone out there really likes you. What the devil did you do to end up on the receiving end of their attention?"

Nothing, Aegis thought. I am just the daughter of Death and someone seems to think I would pose the slightest threat to them if they hadn't killed my father and sent assassins to chase me across two countries.

What she actually said was: "You mean aside from piss off the types of people who lead bandit companies and poison mines? Hmm. Nothing I can think of, but I'll get back to you if anything comes to mind..."

Mayor Ghastkill laughed. "I don't know what your story is, and I won't ask. You saved this town with the mines, but prior to that you solved two dozen other major problems in the surrounding area. Aegis of Candlekeep, is there anything we can do to help you?"

"The benefit of the doubt in this matter is actually doing wonders for my mood," she admitted. "Considering I think I was just nearly arrested in a foreign place on two counts of murder."

He shook his head. "I've seen a lot of strange things in my life, but you are a new form of odd, girl. What kind of special magic diplomatic porridge did your mother feed you as a baby, and where could I get some? I could stop wars, negotiate with dragons, tutor kings... convince my wife not to throw a fit when I come home after midnight... big things!"

Aegis blinked. "Pardon?" she asked, confused.

"I expected two Harpers to come investigate, just like the Graycloaks had. Hey, any help's always welcomed. I was also told to expect two agents from the Zhentarim. What I didn't expect was for them to all end up with the same girl in the same party. The devil did you manage to walk into those mines and out again, and not only didn't you lose a single soul down there, you somehow came out one extra? Nalin says you even have a Thayvian and two Rashemi."

She looked down at Xzar and back at Berrun. "You know about Xzar and Montaron?"

"Of course I know. I also know Jaheira from years ago. I'm the mayor. I was young once; I adventured; I know how the world works. The Zhentarim's got its problems- no offense-"

"None taken," the necromancer waved.

"-but it is a mercenary company. Every mercenary needs a contractor; every smuggler a fence; every merchant a buyer. The Zhentarim can't afford to look this bad, and it's sent help to Amn before. You don't get yourself worked up into a fit about the clothes your friends wear when you desperately need a favor and they're offering for free. Seems you know that well enough. No, what weirds me out is you have 'em all working together."

"Well," Aegis decided solemnly, "my home always had a big problem with mice. That's how I got my first job. At twelve I became a trainer, manager, and herder of cats..."

"This bounty contract was signed 'Tazok," Xan announced to them.

"Wait. You mean I actually am being assassinated for something I've done this time, as opposed to for some utterly unknown and unexplained reason?" Aegis was confused. "I thought the Zhents wanted to stop the Iron Crisis."

Xan glanced up at her, and then showed her the parchment. "Read between the lines with me. When did Nimbul receive this order? He hid part of the payment on the Lion's Way, which is no short distance from here, and then apparently went shopping. We have only been here slightly over one full day. The bards in our very own inn have only known us as 'heroes' for one evening. How did the story of your victory against Mulahey get to Tazok so quickly? Even if Tazok had some magical tracker on Mulahey, the timing doesn't match up."

Aegis frowned at the parchment, trying to piece together what Xan was saying. "You think this order was given before we even entered the mines? But what would a bandit leader want with me, and why would he know my name, prior to the mess we made? Heck, why wouldn't he think Mullahey could handle me? It's not like anyone else made it through the mines alive before us."

"The person who placed this bounty on you may not have realized why you were even in Nashkel; from their perspective, you may simply have been fleeing for Amn in an effort to escape the repeated assassination attempts. If they did not have many contacts down here, perhaps they turned to Tazok as a subcontractor, a way to reach and eliminate you," Xan suggested. "In that way, Nimbul may not have realized he was working at cross purposes to two other Zhents."

Xan's suggestion made sense. Aegis absently reached up to pet her necromancer reflexively when she felt him lean his head against her shoulder. She read the whole letter a second time, and nodded to herself before looking back to Xan. "You think Tazok might be able to tell us who is hunting me?"

"It is a possibility," the enchanter confirmed with a curious glance Xzar's way. Perhaps he'd taken note the necromancer was being especially clingy, if nothing else.

"I'm... tired, actually," Xzar told her when she asked him what was wrong.

"Go lay down," she recommended as she recalled his hysteric near-meltdown out in the fields behind the inn. He hummed in assent and lifted his head to kiss her cheek before heading off for a nap.

"You should talk to Jaheira," Branwen suggested, and Aegis nodded.

"Will the necromancer be staying with the party?" Xan asked her once Xzar had left. Aegis hesitated. "My apologies for prying; it merely seemed that the two of you had been coming back from a chat of some... significance."

She shook her head. "He is going to try and convince his superiors to let him accompany our group for further Iron Crisis  investigations. But he still has to leave for now."

"Well," the elf said thoughtfully, interested in this development, "Jaheira will be thrilled."

"Eh, I won't tell her yet," Aegis decided. "Thank you for the save with the assassin, by the way, Xan. We could have been in serious trouble, antidote or no antidote. How did you come upon us, by the way? Were you heading out anyway, or...?"

"Mm, it was my honor. And my omnipresent cleric wished me to spar with her," Xan muttered with tolerant amusement.

"Ah?" ask Branwen, "Is it your cleric now? Fine then, it's also my wizard then," she teased, and then tugged on his plait gently when he flinched from her commentary. "Och, don't you get all your feathers in a ruffle, silly boy. I told you once I'm not interested, and I'm not one for lying. Now are we going to fight or head back in to eat more?"

"I am not a-! Fight!" he protested desperately, still feeling ill from how much pastry he'd been forced to consume. "Fight! For the sake of the Seldarine, lead the way madam, lest your eyes settle on any more food! At least we will be out in the daylight and away from dark caves and buildings!"

"Ha! That's the spirit! C'mon now, let's head out for real now."

Aegis watched them go and scratched her head for a moment. Then she looked over as Garrick approached her, a pensive expression on her face. "So," she bard said slowly, "are they together?"

Aegis laughed. "Honestly, I think Branwen adopted him."

Garrick was puzzled. "He was muttered something at breakfast about being one hundred and twelve years old."

"I don't think that was necessarily part of the criteria Branwen took under consideration when adopting him. Though, if you were asking me that because you're still interested in her... you ah, you might want to let that go. If you can. "

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "She's a lovely woman. Filled with warmth and sensibility. And fire on the battlefield. But I guess you're right. At first I thought she really just didn't notice my appreciation for her; later I realized she's actively rebuffing me when I try to say anything."

Aegis gave the bard's shoulder a reassuring pat. "I think Branwen's type is Minsc; and I think the only reason she's not more interested in pursuing that is because Dynaheir's type is clearly also Minsc, and Branwen respects first dibs. There's also the height thing. I'm to understand some ladies mind that."

"I'm not used to being shorter than a woman," the bard chuckled. "And here I'm shorter than two! Mm, you're right. Although I think it's a little unfair; as Imoen seems happy enough." Aegis grinned. "About Xan... Maybe it sounded like I was jealous, but actually I really am concerned for him, too. Do you think he's alright? He seems better now that we're out of the caves, but... he's clearly still very upset."

Aegis shrugged unknowingly. "We don't know him well enough yet to say, but I think Branwen was a spot of good luck. Anyone who's gone through so much trauma, probably needs personal one-on-one attention from someone, even if it irritates them; and at the same time I doubt Xan could handle anyone being attracted to him right now."

Imoen managed to get up an hour earlier than Montaron not because of some attachment to daylight hours like Aegis, but rather because she was younger and had more energy. After checking up on Edwin, who was very much unconscious, she peered into the common room to discover that their necromancer was missing but Aegis was present. Hmm. Imoen curiously went to go poke in on the Royal Suite. The door lock was no more than a handle for all the trouble it gave her, and she was soon inside. Was Xzar there? Yup. Was he asleep?

Also Yup. Xzar had curled up on the bed and was hugging one of the pillows. She wondered at the reason for this impromptu nap. Usually, the best time to steal Xzar's spellbook was on the road in the evenings. It was incredibly easy to get it back where he'd need it by morning, and he was never the wiser. But when in town, it was almost impossible for Imoen to get hold of the book unless she wanted to walk in on Aegis and him doing the dirty.

She'd promised to get the spellbook for Edwin. If Xzar and Montaron were both leaving, she had to get it in Nashkel, and she had to get it fast. Nicking it during the day was probably her best option. And if he was going to go through all the trouble of napping for her...

She quietly approached the bed and surveyed the wizard. He was definitely sleeping; his breathing was regular and calm. With fingers lighter than air, she navigated her way to the spellbook and gently began detatching it from his person.

"You're getting bold."

Imoen nearly leaped out of her skin, snatching her hands back to herself. Green eyes opened and lifted up to her face in amusement.

"Uh- Xzar- I was just... um." He is still breathing like he is asleep! Well, that answers the question I asked Montaron. Ironic! "Um. Look, rabbits!" she pointed.

The necromancer blinked slowly at her a moment. Then he laughed a little and dropped his head back to the pillow, hugging it. It was Aegis's pillow, and the scent of her was the drug he wanted. "That," he said, and his tone was almost relieved, "is not going to work anymore."

Imoen peered at him inquisitively. "Well. You seem remarkably level-headed this afternoon. What's got you talking on solid ground?"

"I'm tired, little mage, tell me what you want and then be off with you," he said, closing his eyes again.

"Oh! Um, I didn't want anything! Well, except, maybe permission to borrow- wait. 'Little Mage?' "

"Borrow?" he asked, bemused. "Isn't that what you usually do, always? Since when do you ask for permission to borrow what isn't yours? It's unlike you. Surely you should not curtail yourself for me."

Imoen tilted her head to the side. "You knew I was stealing your spellbook? All those times?"

"A wizard should know where his spellbook is at all times," he told her without opening his eyes. "Even an addled one. Or an addled wizard."

"B-but then why didn't you say anything?" Imoen protested. "I mean, I shouldn't have taken it, and I know that, because that's the worst thing you can do to a wizard, sort of! Um, but I didn't mean any harm, I just- um. Oh boy I'm not making a good case for myself! Please don't strangle me."

The necromancer chuckled. "Just put it back where you've found it when you're done. And be prompt, as usual."

"But you just called me 'Little Mage!' And it's your spellbook! That's like... like a diary! Only bigger! Stealing it's some kind of Magic Crime, I'm sure of it!"

"Well if you turn into a necromancer by reading it, please let me know. I will laugh so very hard at Jaheira's facial expressions. No, Little Mage, I don't mind your eyes. You are, after all... Aegis' sister..."

Imoen hesitated, trying to decide if this was a trick. After a moment she reached down and slowly picked up the black-bound tome. She inspected it briefly and then drew it protectively to her breast. "O-... Okay. If you're sure. Thank you, I think. Um, Xzar... how did you know I'd touched it?"

"Because you touched it," he told her. "And it tasted your pulse through your skin. Ah." His eyes opened as he realized something. "Actually, there is something I wanted to ask you," he remembered. He sat up slowly, blinking back mental exhaustion and lifting up his hands to ask for the spellbook back.

Imoen blinked and gently gave it to him. The wizard opened the spellbook and shifted through the pages. He selected two, wet a thumb, and then carefully and precisely tore the ricepaper sheets straight out of the book. He closed the tome and held them up to the light, and then gently offered them out to her.

"Um, okay?" Imoen prompted, taking the sheets nervously. She hoped they didn't have explosive runes written on them! "What did you want to ask me?"

"I asked Aegis if she would let me scribe a tattoo on her back. She was uncertain about my aesthetic sensibilities; I understand why. But she said that she would approve of the tattoo if I could convince you that it was an acceptable design. I want it to be a surprise, so no peeping a word to anyone, even her. Just yes or no, please."

The thief looked from him to the sheets and then drew them closer to her for inspection. "Huh. You want to ink this permanently into her skin? How big is it?" Imoen asked. "And... hold up now. Why did you give me two sheets?" she asked.

"They overlay," he explained, gesturing for unity with his hands. "One will be in green; the other in black. Scribes do not use multicolored inks enough. So much more can be packed in. True, we can only speak one language at a time... but the art of making written forms should not suffer. So much can be done with it. Ah, your other question: It would be large. From shoulders to the base of the lumbar."

Imoen lifted a brow, but looked down at the sheets. "This... Xzar, this is fine. Aesthetically. I mean, I wouldn't want it, but it's kinda pretty. Does it mean anything?"

"It was once a sigil for nature magic used in old artwork by clerics of Savras. Savras, as you may not know, is a dead god; but he was once the patron deity of Alaundo, the sage who founded Candlekeep. I thought it was suiting. It has an organic, loping quality to it that makes it feel very appropriate."

The thief hesitated "Okay. But I don't really get why you'd want to do something like this in the first place. I mean, why give her a tattoo? It seems a little, well, odd. Though I don't even know know anything about you except you're crazy and like cadavers. "

Xzar crossed his arms, thinking about the statements she'd put to him, and looking off at nothing for a moment. Then abruptly he looked back at her. "Yes you do. You have been reading my spellbook for over a month. What have you learned of me?

Imoen frowned. "That you're very detail-oriented," she told him. "Oh, and you're terrifying. I'm scared of you. I don't even know how I feel about you and Aegis. I'm glad you're leaving. I don't trust you."

He tilted his head to the side. "That is probably for the best, as you shouldn't. Neither should she. Neither should I, for that matter, actually... Hmm."

"I guess the fact that you're having a coherent dialog with me for the first time ever should make me feel better, but it doesn't. Now you're just more scary. Four weeks ago you were throwing unidentifiable black organs at Garrick. My previous conversations with you have consisted of you telling me about the sinister evils of the common ground squirrel."

The necromancer looked at her in amusement. "The whole room smells of your sister, and you are asking me why I am calm? Guess."

Imoen straightened, looking surprised and disturbed.

Xzar tilted his head to the side. "Ah. I see. You don't really think of me as a person, do you?" he asked slyly. "Did you think of me as more a thing or a force or an affliction than a man? I assure you what happened in this room was incredibly human."

"Okay, ew..."

"I cannot be with her, but I can leave behind a mark of my presence. Do you understand? Perhaps not. It does not appear to have even registered in your mind that I have emotions, much less that I could be reluctant to leave. Very well, then. Be Jaheira's niece if you wish. But have you your verdict? Yes or no? On the design's suitability, not on mine."

Imoen looked down at the sheets, surprised and off-balance. "Okay," she agreed reluctantly, offering the sheets back to him. "But I'm watching you."

He smiled, taking the sheets and offering her the spellbook. She only just remembered she'd been trying to steal it. She took it slowly, reverently, and held it carefully close. Wizard spellbooks were sacred. "I know," he reminded her. "Tell me, Imoen, do you love your sister?"

"What?" the violet girl asked, surprised and confused by the question. "Of course I do!"

"Why? She's not true flesh and blood, is she?" the necromancer purred. "Though I suppose that hardly matters. Even siblings have been known to kill each other in a jealous rage. Why do you love her? A sense of duty, perhaps? Loyalty to your past history together? Or is it because you look up to her?"

Imoen shook her head. "Love's a bigger word than you think it is. Love is one of those things that only exists if it goes both ways. And once it exists, it doesn't need reasons. It feeds itself. Becomes, like, self-sustaining. I'll be there for her no matter what happens. That's just the way it is."

Xzar tilted his head to the side, considering her. More than her, he considered the intentions of the Harper Monk who had knowingly permitted her inside the Keep to serve as Aegis's companion. "I see. Then as you are young and naive, let me give you some friendly advice. You are the only person you will ever be able to trust at her back. So be there always. Be the eyes that keep her safe when she so much as goes out to urinate. Because right now, mageling, the person doing that job is me."

Imoen frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Tarnesh, the dwarf, Neira, the ghoul, Nimbul..." Xzar prompted, "Do you see a pattern?"

The thief hesitated and then her eyes widened. "You're always flanking her," she realized. "Sometimes you're even the only one with her. You're the first to get there in every emergency."

He smiled. "And you don't trust me, do you? Good. Don't trust me, and don't trust anyone else, either. Do it yourself. Trust yourself. I trust you."

Considering what she was going to do with the spellbook she was holding, Imoen suddenly felt extraordinarily guilty. Inwardly, she promised Oghma she would take Xzar's side in the next significantly gray moral dilemma that arose. She was still pretty sure the man was... well... evil. But he was only human, and it seemed she had misjudged quite a few parts of him. "I'll... Okay. I'll pay more attention," Imoen agreed. "Thank you, Xzar..."

The necromancer smirked and waved her off. "Tell her about your verdict will you?" The thief nodded, ducked and headed out, secreting the spellbook on her person.

When she was gone and the door had been shut, Xzar lifted up the sheets which remained with him and smiled. He took in a breath and blew gently over the paper. The ink curled and reformed, altering from the two layers of the pointless sigil of nature, and taking on the spiraling shapes of two interwoven Seals.

Gods forbid that Imoen should have gone to the Thayvian or the Rashemi, asking questions about tattoo magic. That would have utterly ruined the surprise, and he'd been working so hard and so long on perfecting it.

Chapter Text

"Aegy? I talked to Xzar. Lemme tell you, that was a weird experience in itself; think I could have a whole chat with you about just that- is he getting less crazy?"

The ranger blinked at her. "Less crazy? He's a necromancer. More resilient to splintering, maybe..."

"Well, anyway, are you sure about the permanent ink tattoo thing? I saw the design and it's... fine. It looks good, actually."

"Does it really? Huh! I wasn't entirely sure what to expect."

"Yeah, it looks fine, but why do you want it, Ae? I'm pretty sure the process involves you letting a crazy person stab you repeatedly with needles, which doesn't seem wholly advisable. I just asked Minsc and he says it hurts, and it's going to be big, too, all over your back."

Aegis shrugged. "I didn't ask for it, but I told him I'd let him do it as long as it looked fine."

"But why?"

"I don't know. Why not? It seems kind of important to him. Like leaving a memento, just a little more extreme."

Imoen hesitated. "Are you sure you want a memento of Xzar for the rest of forever?"

Aegis looked at her sister and belatedly recalled that the two of them weren't telepathically linked, and could not actually read each other's changing thoughts. If she wanted Imoen to know how she felt, the two girls ought to have been taking more one-on-one gossip time.

"Well..." the ranger said slowly, considering her lunch for a moment. Then she looked back to her perplexed sister and smiled helplessly.

"Ew, you do?" Imoen winced. "Aegy, I just don't get you about this. I mean, I don't mind Xzar at arm's length but... well the whole rest of what you've got going on has got me downright confuzzlated, to be clear."

Aegis had transitioned from tea to ale in the tea-brewer's absence. "See, I'm only just starting to wonder why you haven't pestered me about the matter more. Since when do I initiate these kinds of conversations about boys?"

" 'Boys!?' Blah." Imoen made a dramatic tongue-sticking-out face that actually reminded Aegis of Xzar. Or maybe it was Xzar that reminded Aegis of Imoen. "I was pretending it wasn't happening!"

"Really? Cause in retrospect I was sort of expecting to be swarmed by all sorts of questions about my first experience with a man. Questions like: What's sex like? What positions did you do? Were those special books in Candlekeep accurate? Why do you like him? What is romantic about all this? What's it like having a boyfriend? What's the best part? How's the snuggling? Does he sleep talk?"

"Ugh, and if you were with anyone normal, I would have been swarming!" Imoen moaned. "The way it was, I didn't want to know! Aegy," she suddenly realized, "this is serious? This isn't just some weird little 'remember that one time' story that we'll tell around camp fires years from now? This is... like going to continue onward and be a... a thing?"

"This is most definitely a thing that I hope continues."

"Aegis, he's nutters! And probably evil. What? I'm just saying. I don't think he's the type of 'boy' that you are supposed to take home with you. Even the stuff we've seen is bad, and he probably gets much worse when left to his own devices.

Aegis leaned her chin on her hand and listened to her concerned sibling. "Most likely."

"Okay... so... I really think it's unfair of me to say this, but somebody's gotta, so brace yourself: What would your dad say?"

The smile left Aegis's face immediately. She stared through her sister without speaking for awhile, and though she didn't call Imoen out for punching low, the violet girl still felt her pain and winced sympathetically all the same.

"He never would have recruited Xzar and Montaron in the first place," Aegis answered at last. "We only even met them because he was dead. We'd have to imagine some hypothetical scenario in an undefined place and time with no Iron Crisis and no Horned Man, to speculate on what Gorion would feel if I just went out on my own one day and then brought home a mentally unstable necromancer."

"And if we did that...?" Imoen prompted.

"Xzar would have activated every paranoid and protective bone in his body. I don't think he'd necessarily attack immediately or completely disregard my feelings, but he'd seed doubt with a parable, wait until something happened to prove his point, rescue me, and then just quietly sit down beside me and wait... 'til I opened the topic myself. And..." she added, taking a sip of her drink, "the whole thing would have probably ended up as just another teaching moment between father and daughter: My first failed relationship."

Imoen fidgeted. "I thought... I thought maybe you were just letting it all happen. Passively. But you've actually thought about this a lot, haven't you?"

"Every day," the ranger agreed. "And every day I reach the same conclusion by one route or another."

"Which conclusion?" the violet girl asked curiously.

"Hm? Oh. I like traveling with Xzar," Aegis answered like it was all just that simple. "He cheers me up, or at least leaves me more resilient to unhappiness. Keeping track of him is a puzzle. I have to pay attention so I can catch all the puns, wordplay, and running jokes. He doesn't give me time to feel sorry for myself."

Imoen doubted 'I like his sense of humor' could be a valid card to play in these circumstances: "Isn't that a weird way to spin 'he ain't mentally well' into a good thing?"

"You could say that. But you noticed the same thing I have: He's getting calmer the longer he's with us. Almost as if whatever's happened to him is getting a chance to heal. Is it bad that I enjoy having a positive effect on him?"

"I dunno, maybe? He's constantly talked about wanting to do a lot of horrible stuff!" Imoen reminded her.

"But always accepts when the answer is 'no,' " Aegis counter-reminded. "He's never harmed either of us, or even put our welfare second below his own. And I like that he feels safe with me. It's just returning the favor."

Imoen put both hands on her hips. "Is this the sort of 'serious' that, if followed to its least morbid conclusion, results in my nieces and nephews not only bringing home stray animals, but reanimated roadkill, too?"

Aegis jolted back. "By Ohgma's giant ass, one step at a time, Imm!"

"I'm serious! Are you legitimately going to try and bank for the long haul and see how far you get?!"

Aegis- Aegis sort of was, yes, and she couldn't lie and say thoughts of the future had never crossed her mind. She blurted out: "I'm still working on the logistics of how to prevent him from randomly despleening someone's pet in the middle of the street, Imm! Hoi. Although... on reflection..."

Aegis grimaced wide and stared off into space as if morbidly fascinated by something she'd found there,

"...at least I would never have to explain to the kids why old Mrs. Mittens would 'run away' and abandon them. She would just become their next arts and crafts project."

"Oh gods, Ms. Mittens." Aegis wasn't the only one left staring out into space, but Imoen was headed on a trip to the past, not forecasting the future. "I'll never forget that conversation, Ae: My da was trying to put things delicately, and you lifted your head up and looked at us and said as plain as day: 'No, she's is dead and you buried her. She visited me in a dream to tell me, but her eyes were gone and her skin rippled like fountain water with maggots. It was okay, though, because I got to kiss her goodbye.' I was like four, Ae, and I will remember that word for word until the day I die. I had nightmares for months."

Aegis shook herself out of void-gazing and gave Imoen a meaningful look. As Imoen returned to the present, she returned her sister's gaze knowingly. The reality was, Ae wasn't exactly doing anything unusual for Ae. All this was new to Jaheira because she'd never seen it before, and it didn't match up with the rest of who this big-hearted ranger girl seemed to be. But Aegis had always had come served with a side of weird. Imoen couldn't dispute that.

"You, uh. Ae, you won't start getting all creepy-morbid with everything again, will you?" Imoen asked, worried the necromancer could become a bad influence in more subtle ways. "Cause I was kinda happy you grew out of that."

"That was a long time ago." Aegis shook her head. "I was just a kid. I had a lot of questions. And I struggled to predict what questions might upset people." She smiled faintly. "I miss my father," she realized weakly. "Badly."

Imoen, who'd opened the topic, pulled a chair up beside her and sat down to pat her bag and give her a hug. The two were quiet for awhile as they each gathered their thoughts. 

"I'm attached to Xzar," Aegis said softly to her. "Maybe overly attached.

"Well... I guess you are really good at handling him and all the crazy things he says. Maybe you're actually more like Gorion than anyone realizes." Imoen smiled at her and gave her a little pinch on the nose. "Wise, I mean."

Aegis chuckled. "Don't let Jaheira overhear you; she'd smite us dead for profaning the name of a friend..."

"Jaheira didn't have to grow up with you as a kid. But you know, no matter what you said, or how morbid it was, old Mr. G. would just pick you up and put you on his lap and tell you a story. And by the end you'd be all normal-person-y again and he'd hug you and tell you how much he loved you and send you back to play with me."

"He was very patient," Aegis said, looking back at her food. Her memories of him were now colored differently now. But rather than dull or pervert the impact of all her father had done for her, the revelation of her origins just made her memories stand out brighter, bolder, louder.

"We grew up around a thousand old farts who were all supposed to be wise," Imoen reflected, "but nobody else ever knew how to say things to you exactly right. Parda, Puffgutts, Ulraunt, it didn't matter: You were always so frustrated until you went to talk to old Mr. G. He started making me think he always knew exactly what he was doing, from the moment he first opened his mouth to talk. And I can't help but wonder... Even though it ended in tragedy, maybe he did know what he was doing that night we lost him. He made you memorize where to go next, after all."

Aegis glanced at her sister, and then gave her a tighter hug. "I hope so," she said quietly. "I really hope so."

Montaron and Imoen played poker at the Belching Dragon that afternoon, and ended up relieving everyone present of their coin through one means or another. Hero's luck was blamed.

Khalid and Jaheira planned to take one more day of rest on the morrow and then leave in the early morning hours on the next day.

Aegis explained to Montaron the terms of the arrangement Xzar had made on their behalf, which was to leave the day after. The halfling hadn't been happy. Imoen figured cards and ale would be a good way to calm him down.

Though Aegis had been the one to suggest the five days of debauchery, she herself stayed at the inn and did not actually make the trip down to the tavern. She kept within eyeshot of someone else at almost all times, wary of another assassination attempt. She just wanted to enjoy a space that felt remotely like a 'home' for a few days; it wasn't so much to ask!

Garrick was earning his keep playing for at the inn and tavern both. Minsc had gone out to exercise with his greatsword on his own. Dynaheir was studying her newest scrolls. Aegis was tending to her gear.

Ah, her gear. It was becoming painfully obvious she needed to upgrade her things, and that included buying a full battleaxe. Hopefully something with a magical enchantment. Still, she polished her hatchet lovingly until it gleamed.

Xan returned absolutely exhausted with a thrilled Branwen in tow. The cleric was happy to tell everyone the elf could beat her in a throw down—for the first ten to fifteen minutes! Xan's stamina evidently was terrible; though his ability to use magic to supplement himself and stand toe-to-toe with a war priestess had most certainly garnered his companion's respect.

Xan was not as happy about this as Branwen was. Sore from head to toe, he could only moan when she put his lunch in front of him, and then stared at the bowl as if the entire universe had conspired to make him miserable regardless of his current state of freedom. He was bruised, achy, slightly nauseous, a little anxious, and still heavily shaken up from his ordeal. Life was not feeling incredibly good at the moment, for all that he'd finally gotten some real sunlight.

Branwen took a good long look at him, all curled up like a shriveled organ player with his ears deflated in a way that ought not to have been physically possible. Then she rolled her eyes and dragged a chair up behind his. "You ought to have stretched before hand. I told you so, I did."

He looked at her uncertainly, as if wondering what new torture she had devised for him and she chuckled. "You're so tense, it's no wonder you look and feel terrible. Let me help; I'll be gentle with ye. Hey, Dynaheir! Come make sure I do this right!" she called, moving her hands to clasp his shoulder and shoulder blade.

Xan was not up to resisting, which was fortunate because a few minutes later he was leaning against the table with his cheek on one elbow as she worked out the knots in his other shoulder. Dynaheir had come up and was offering directions and assistance. It took Branwen awhile, but she elicited a very satisfactory crackle when she was finally able to push the shoulder back into proper alignment. 

Khalid and Jaheira were busy plotting their journey, but Khalid did eventually wander over and verbally ask Xan: "D-do you want to be r-rescued from your w-womenfolk?"

The enchanter looked up at him bleakly. "Flee. Save yourselves," Xan told him. "And do not ever grow out your hair." He winced and then sighed in relief when Branwen managed to get his other shoulder into place. She released his arm, which he shook once before folding it under his head as well.

Branwen winked at Khalid as she continued with her ministrations, feeling gently along the sullen elf's prominent spine. "He's just a big baby," she insisted with a chuckle. "Don't be worrying about him none. He-" Xan flinched at where she had put her hand. "Ho, that's a bruise is that? Really? I naught but bumped ye with me forearm out there. Mm. Well wait a moment." She placed both hands gently against him, calling on the energy of her deity. Xan subtly relaxed.

"The cloth is making this difficult," Dynaheir muttered. "It would be ideal if you could see the flesh. Perhaps some privacy-"

"Shh-shush!" Branwen exclaimed loudly, covering Xan's ears as if she could prevent him from thinking about what he surely must have heard. (Khalid winced, reaching forward to stop Branwen but then coming up short when he realized the action was already done.) "What the hells? No! Are you daft?"

"Ah," the reason for Branwen's sudden protectiveness dawned on the Wychlaran. "Of course. I apologize. I forgot who we were talking about for a moment."

"B-branwen... you haven't met m-many elves, correct?" Khalid politely interrupted.

"Nae," the Northeim woman agreed.

"I-it is considered a little t-taboo to touch a-another elf's e-ears. Inap-propriate."

"What? Why?"

Khalid looked piteously down at Xan, who had his eyes closed and whom was clearly counting or reciting something under his breath. He didn't look particularly angry, but then he was an enchanter, and such individuals were a rare breed of wizards. Khalid had known a few in his time, and he had found them to be very skilled at both mental discipline and compartmentalization. "Um... they are, eh, a little s-sensitive," he said delicately with a warm blush.

Branwen stiffened and looked down at her charge. Then she winced and released him. Xan blinked his eyes open, calmly coming out of whatever trance he'd gone off into to avoid leaping out of his skin, shrieking, fleeing the room, and/or moonblading both women. "Thank you," he said politely, but then made to stand. "I think I need to retire for a few hours."

"O-of course," the cleric stammered. "I'm sorry.

"It is forgiven. But I find myself comfortable and... very tired."

His posture had dramatically improved as he glided away, so at least the therapeutic assistance had done what it was supposed to do. As he left, he encountered Xzar heading the opposite way, and nodded politely to the necromancer without speaking.

Branwen waited till Xan was gone and then cursed and rubbed her face. "Kay, well. Someone educate me about elves so I don't do something like that again on accident!"

"Um, w-well, I can try!"

 Xzar walked up behind Aegis where was tending to her gear and chatting with Jaheira about everything from weather to wolves. He leaned over the back of her chair, slipped his arms around her shoulders, and greeted her with a kiss on the top of the head, while slipping his arms around her shoulders. As expected, Jaheira was offended.

"So, did Imoen gave her verdict?" the necromancer asked with a purr.

His ranger nodded. "That she did. If you're leaving in just a few days, did you want to rush to fit it in?"

"Does starting now work?" he asked her. "I had a good nap, but I'm still calm enough. I wouldn't want to try otherwise. I checked and crosschecked and I have everything I should need."

Aegis considered and then nodded, getting up to follow him away from the common room. Jaheira watched them suspiciously, but by now she knew no one was going to listen to her if she said anything. She'd just have to keep her eyes and ears open so that she could act quickly in the event of an emergency.

He could hear the door as it quietly opened and closed, though not the gentle pad of swift footsteps. Candle light fell over his face.

{Edwin? Are you asleep?}

The Red Wizard rubbed his face and looked up at her. She had quite a number of items in her hands, including a plate with a meat sandwich, which one supposed he stood a chance at successfully eating one-handed. {I am now,} he muttered, trying to prop himself up.

Imoen set down some of her burden on the edge of the bed and leaned over to help him situate his pillows. It was harder than it ought to have been on his own. {I got the spellbook for you! But now suddenly there's a caveat.}

Edwin frowned, rubbing sleep from his eyes with the back of his hand. Imoen reflected that even a big, bad, scary Red Wizard could look cute and human when weak and tired. {What caveat?}

{It turns out that Xzar knew I was stealing the spellbook,} Imoen explain, looking a little weirded-out even as she said it. {I am not sure why, but he permitted it. I believe he let his guard down only because it was me borrowing it, and for some reason he didn't find me threatening.}

The Red Wizard lifted his good hand from his face and squinted at her incredulously. {He has been letting you take it? What spell did you weave on two wizards to get both the madman and the witch to let you look in their spellbooks?}

{Beats me. Maybe I just come off incredibly harmless?} She sat on the edge of the bed. {It might have something to do with keeping me happy so I don't say negatively things to Aegis about him. Anyway I asked him how he had known I had taken it, and he said the book felt my touch, my skin, or my pulse; or something like that.}

Edwin's gaze darted to her hands as she produced the black leather spellbook. {So I must avoid touching it. You will hold it so I can study it?}

{Of course,} she agreed. {Before I serve as your glorified lectern, however,} she put the book temporarily away and then reached over to pick up a few packages wrapped in red paper, {let us see how I fared as your laundry maid.}

She unfolded the first package and pulled out his mended robes. She Examined the shoulder and the repaired seam. The cloth appeared to be flawless again. She passed the fabric to him for his assessment and he nodded, so she rolled it up into a doughnut to show she was willing to help dress him.

Edwin caught on. {The injured arm first,} he suggested, and then tried to be patient with the pins-and-needles sensations as she eased his hurt arm out of the sling. She guided it through the proper sleeve and then slipped the robes over his head and pulled them down to his mid torso. She then readjusted the sling and got the injured arm secured back against his chest.

Then she sat back from him. Her Red Wizard shifted a moment, fussing with the hem and only one working hand. He made a valiant effort. But eventually leveled a heavy-lidded look her way.

Imoen tilted her head to the side. He stared at her for a moment, almost glaring if not for the otherwise resigned expression he was wearing. Then he sighed.

{Don't make me say anything,} he told her irritably. {Just read my mind and obey me, serf.}

The thief grinned and folded blankets aside juuuust far enough. Reaching under the edge, she seized hold of the hem on his bad side and helped him shimmy it down so he was properly dressed. He grunted and did not otherwise express a modicum of appreciation. She smoothed the blankets back down flat, considered him for a moment, and then reached forward and pulled his hood up and into place.

{There, now you are mysterious and unknowable and terrifying again, nasty dragon. Feel better?}

He sneered at her. {Just show me what you stole for me, little thief.}

Instead of sitting there like a decent and obedient pawn, she turned about and settled in beside him, crossed her legs, pulled out the spellbook and held it open before him so he could see. The unsolicited human contact, however slight, was annoying; but given that he could immediately tell she'd brought him quite a valuable treasure, he elected not to protest.

Hmm. The Red Wizard made a small gesture with his good hand, and she dutifully turned the page.

Imoen was familiar with these pages. {I recognize some Thari, elfish, dwarvish, some Infernal...} she observed aloud while tapping on a few words. {But what is this?}

{By the shape? Zhentarim Argot.}

Imoen perked up. {Can you read it?}

{No. It is a very carefully guarded code known in full only to a select few. Those who use it routinely may only know a few words or set phrases. It is not something taught at random. Each word has its price on every black market in the realms.}

{These aren't a few select words...} Imoen observed. {These are sentences.}

{Never trust anyone to be what they appear, Imoen of Candlekeep,} the Thayvian advised. {You and I are both lucky the necromancer seems to underestimate you.} He gestured that she should turn the page. {Whatever wretched creature he is now, he was someone once. Scavenging his leftovers will prove useful to me.}

{The book does not seem to be organized logically,} Imoen told him. {It isn't neat or cohesive. The start almost feels like he was vomiting out information.}

{It is an original work, not an optimized compilation,} Edwin explained. {It is laid out for research and spellcraft. Skip to a spell.} She obeyed. The first spell was Chill Touch. Edwin studied the pages around it and then nodded. {He is good. Look. See the notes? He did not scribe this from another spell book or scroll. He worked it out from memory. That takes a rare skill level and familiarity.}

Imoen blinked, looking at the Red Wizard. {What does that mean?}

Edwin smirked. {It means he's trying to remember a spellbook he no longer has. Or an entire library of them.}

{What could have happened to that spellbook? To him?} she wondered.

{If you were a little less naive, I would say your guess is as good as mine. It may have been the Time of Troubles. The Zhentarim was once predominately Bane's. When Cyric slew the Dead Three, there were a lot of power shifts, wars, assassinations, and massacres the whole Realms over. Thay was no exception, either.}

Imoen considered this and realized it made a perverse sort of sense. Then she looked at Edwin curiously. {Who do you worship?}

The Red Wizard glanced at her. {Are you entirely sure you want to ask me that question, little girl?} he asked haughtily. {What if it shatters your make-believe innocence?}

{Well, you also could have been a Banite at one point,} she wagered. Pages turned. {Except now he's dead. And you don't strike me as the sort of person to worship a dead god or a crazy one. And despite your barbed temper, you don't strike me as having an interest in Loviatar. But your robes and favorite spells are a clue. Kossuth?}

{Clever girl.} Pages turned.

{Suits you. Hey, what did you mean about it being a 'rare skill' to work a spell out from memory?}

{Draconic and an understanding of its connection to the weave slip from the mind easily,} the Thayvian reminded her. {Like words from a dream. Recalling a spell without deliberately preparing it using a personal spell book is not easy. It is even incredibly difficult to prepare from another wizard's spell book. Likewise, recalling enough of a spell's form over the long term to be able to recreate it later on, with no references, is no easy task. Retaining with precision even a few sigils at a time during faithful scribing can even difficult. (Why am I bothering to say this, surely she knows.)}

Imoen considered this. {Are you... sure?}

He looked at her. {What do you mean, am I sure?}

The thief seemed confused. {I could probably recall your acid spell from memory.}

Edwin was surprised by her ignorance, and he laughed. {A spell you have never once so much as cast or scribed? (I see I did need to explain; she is less advanced that I had thought).}

{Well I remember reading it! I did pay very close attention to it, I examined it thoroughly to make sure it would work for burning through those rocks. I could do it!}

{No, you could not. (That is a mistake for the lowliest of novices!) The magic is not in the words or the diagrams; those are but tools to anchor down parts of the weave and help the wizard recall its true form to the mind. I would invite you to try and then enjoy the privilege of watching your first major magic-related-maiming, if you were not sandwiched up against my side and likely to injure me as well. Put the thought out of mind.}

Imoen looked at him in bewilderment. Then she settled down the spellbook.

{What are you doing? What-?} His eyes widened. {Do not! Do not play with acid! Imoen-!} He grabbed at her arms.

"Lozuk hanzin haalvut kresel," she enunciated with terrible pronunciation. There was a shimmer of green energy, and then Imoen calmly held up a hand limed in a thin sheen of acid and showed him. 

Edwin stared in disbelief for a long moment, turning her hand from side to side. Without discipline or training, it looked set to go runny and drip all over the place at any moment, but likely also lacked any real potency. {When did you practice this?}

{I didn't, just like you said. I've never cast it,} she said smugly. {I wanted to try during the cave-in, but you were already so mad at me already, and I figured I might mess it up and make things worse, so I just made up my mind to try only if you passed out-} 

{You filthy liar. When did you copy it? While I was unconscious and you had access to my spell book?}

Her expression dropped and her eyes widened. {Copy? Why would I-? I've never copied-?} He brows came together and she frowned. {You don't believe me,} she realized.

{Because it's impossible, you twit. When you think to lie, strive to know the realm of reality first!}

{I'm not lying!} she defended. {Why would I make up something like that? My patron is Oghma!}

{Whom you clearly do not take very seriously. Dismiss the spell, fool girl. I told you not to pry your thieving eyes in my spellbook, and it seems you are keen to ignore me at every turn! I did not take action against you for what you did in the cave-in, or for the scribbles you left the evening the witch tried to burn the spellbook; but I am getting sick of your blatant disrespect!}

"You-! You! You are like the worst, suckiest failure at being a decent human being ever!" she sputtered indignantly. "Do you think I need attention that badly that I'd make up nonsense about spells!? I can't dismiss it. I don't know how! How could I? I barely understand how it works, it's not my spell!"

He laughed angrily at her. {To fail, I would first have to try. You are an incredibly inane child, who has not mastered even the basic foundation skills necessary to counter your own work! Fine! If you are so boldly incompetent as to cast a spell you cannot control, go smother it in a bowl of water!}

Imoen scowled, slung her feet out of bed and stomped over to pour a basin of water.

{And pull your hand out again before the brief immunity to its effects end!}

She thrust her hand into the water, chewing back on angry insults.

Edwin watched her childish body language with a haughty, hateful, and predatory grin. It wasn't enough. He was so furious at her for this theft and for this ridiculous lies that he needed to make an absolute fool of her, to teach her this lesson once and for all. He pulled out his spellbook, held it open with the side of his thigh, and flicked to an empty page, and then began summoning a cantrip to memory.

When Imoen returned she found him drawing out sigils with his fingernails, the claw-like tips leaving behind ink under the effect of some minor spell. She frowned and watched him uncertainly. "What are you doing?" she asked.

{Proving once and for all that you are a consummate liar and a thief.}

{I am not a liar,} she told him angrily. {Stop saying that!}

{You are. And I shall demonstrate how you are Cyric's and Mask's more than you will ever be Ohgma's.} He finished what he was doing and then lifted up the spellbook and offered it to her.

{What do you- You just accused me of stealing your magic!}

{Take it now, fool girl, before I lose patience with you.} Imoen frowned but took the book from him and looked hesitantly down at what he'd scribed. {This is a spellcraft of mine. Have you seen it before?}

{No,} she admitted, confused.

{Exactly. Because no wizard has but a single spellbook, and I—like our necromancer acquaintance—have the skill and experience necessary to work out old techniques I no longer have current immediate access to. I know you have never seen this spell before in your life, so you can't have transcribed it and you can't have prepared it. So study it. How long did learning that acid spell supposedly take you? Fifteen minutes to become familiar with it? And this you remembered it a week later?}

Imoen looked at him with a pout. {Maybe five?} she admitted. {But I've seen spells like it before, and it's not like it was an especially-!}

{Take fifteen!} he laughed. {Take as long as you want. It's not a scroll, after all; It's a raw inscription. It's not in your own hand, and you aren't even a wizard. You can't cast it. And you certainly couldn't cast it a week from now!}

Liquid brown eyes stared uncertainly at him a vulnerable moment before lowering down to the book. He grinned smugly, watching as her gaze traced over the inscription. Her lips moved, her nose wrinkled, and her eyes squinted she parsed the draconic and roved through the runes in search of meaning. Then she snapped the book closed and tossed it to the bed.

{So you give up?} he drawled {Are you ready to admit the truth?}

Imoen turned and left the room, and he laughed good and long and hard after her. Served the violet harlot right! A pity he'd lost her hands, however. Edwin caught sight of the black-bound tome she'd left him, remembered what task he'd actually needed her for, and ran his tongue over his teeth as he considered that chasing her for the room in open mockery might not have been the most brilliant of maneuvers. Well, no matter: He cast a cantrip to pull the book close, open it, and turn the pages for him. The spell wouldn't last forever and it was going to be a drain on his strength, but at least he'd get some reading done in case the twit refused to steal it for him again.

But a few minutes later, the thief unexpectedly returned. Edwin glanced up at her, surprised she'd show her face after being dealt such a blow. {Well?} he prompted, and then blinked in confusion when she came up beside him holding paper, quill, and ink. {What are you doing?}

Imoen glared at him and then pulled up a chair to sit at the bedside table. She set her supplies down, removed the lid from the ink well, dipped her quill, and began to write. Edwin frowned, trying to get a look at what she was doing. Holding focus for a constant prestidigitation spell was proving... tiresome... perhaps he should do something to get her to resume helping him. What was she doing?

Imoen finished her writing with a decisive slash of her pen and then she stood up and presented him with the finished document. Looking uncertainly from her to the written page, Edwin slowly took the leaf from her hands. Then his eyes widened as he recognized an inscription that had successfully anchored its weave.

{You copied it. From memory,} he said, in a tone of complete and utter disbelief. Such a feat should have been impossible; magic simply did not permit itself to be remembered like a poem or vision, not in a usable state. It needed to be understood; appreciated; decoded; and rephrased; it needed to be placed into the memory as a long and complex sequence of almost spiritual sensations. Alone, without that understanding, the draconic characters and diagrams would elude the mind like wisps of smoke, or otherwise fail to pin down the spell they were meant to capture.

"Snuk gel ahrk shik," she said, lifting her hand, and the holiday firecracker spell simmered out between her fingers, dancing with light and magical wisps of twirling smoke. Edwin lifted his attention from the sheet of paper and stared at her. She held the cantrip long enough for it to be very clear she had prepared it on the fly. Then she let the magic fade.

"Edwin Odesseiron, don't you ever again call me a liar."

The Red Wizard was silent. His stayed tightly shut and he stared at her with an unreadable but highly focused expression. A long moment passed between them, and then at last he dipped his head. {Well, I can honestly say I did not see that coming. Very well, Imoen of Candlekeep, you win. I retract my accusation; You are not a liar. And you never transcribed that acid spell, either? You recalled it faithfully, a week after you read it, etched in another wizard's hand? And you prepared it from that memory, spontaneously?}

She nodded. "Damn straight, nasty man."

{I apologize for doubting you,} he said quietly.

It was the very first apology Imoen had ever heard from him. Not even just his first apology to her, but his first apology to anyone. She stood there, hands clenched, and considered him. Maybe... maybe she'd accept that apology. After all, he'd been very sure of the things he'd said, and probably with good reason...

{If I may entice your forgiveness, oh truthful one... I am having difficulty reading a book I cannot touch,} Edwin gestured to the tome.

Of course he needed something. Imoen crossed her arms over her chest and affected to still be very mad with him.

{I will answer any questions you have about it,} he promised her suavely, seeing through her act. {Please, Imoen. Help me?}

A wry smile twisted across her lips. She felt smug with her victory, even though she knew he was the one who stood to gain the most right now. Then she gave a big dramatic eye-roll and approached the bed. {Fine. But only because you asked nicely,} she yielded. {Or, ah- Hold on, give me moment to clean up first.} She cleaned her quill and capped the inkwell, and did not see the intrigued and greedy way he watched her. His expression had smoothed out by the time she turned back around, reclaimed her position, and picked back up the spell book. {Let's see if we can find this spell you want.}

{Many thanks,} he murmured quietly with a surreptitious glance to her face.

An arcane eidetic, he concluded. Untrained, in the rough. He smirked to himself as she quickly flipped through the pages. Hundreds of Harpers around you all your life and not one notices. And I stumble upon you on a ill-defined mission to kill a Wychlaran whore. What to do with you... What to do with you...

{Edwin?} He blinked at her. {I'm not dumb. Next time you want to scheme and plot, don't do it where it's going to show up so obviously on your face.}

The Red Wizard's left eye twitched. Ah. Yes. How could he have ever forgotten he was talking to The Lady Annoyance Incarnate?

Chapter Text

Imoen had returned to the Royal Suite and notice candle-light sneaking out from under the door. Uh oh. Aegis would normally be at the tavern so early in the evening, and Xzar would typically be with her; but it was conceivably late enough that they might be doing bedroom stuff instead. Imoen had been hoping to slip the spellbook back into Xzar's pack for him to find on his return. But if he and Aegis were both in there, whelp, Imoen wasn't willing to risk an eyefull of The Nasty.

Could she, like, knock maybe? Nah. Even though Xzar had given her permission to take it, it still felt like Imoen was supposed to be sneaking around on this. Wizards didn't just loan out their spellbooks. Imoen couldn't explain why she'd taken it all day. She still needed like, the pretense of stealing it.

Imoen would slip it back into his hands the following morning.

For the time be, she hid it away in her things and headed out to the Belching Dragon to drink.

"T-told you... T-told you it was too fast! Said I needed t-to take it slower! Warned you I was over-overeat-" a rush of sensation overcame him and ducked his head to vomit again. Vinegar was not as good on the way up as it went down, and neither was fruit, as it turned out. Some of it even came up through the nasal cavities, and that was a whole different level of hell. He choked and sputtered and coughed, and his companion quickly wiped his face with a kerchief.

"You drank a whole bottle of wine in one sitting!" Branwen protested his assessment of where all this trouble had come from. "The devil possessed ye? I weren't gone but half an hour!"

Xan moaned pathetically, barely able to steady himself against the side of the inn. Branwen had previously tucked his braid down the back of his robes to keep the hair out of his face. She was holding him upright around the middle with her other hand. He wasn't sure he could stand without her.

"You featherbrained twig of a man," she chastised him, wiping his nose. "I should have known! Should have seen it in your eyes the way you stared at the bottle, should have seen you were wondering what would happen if you just threw the whole lot of it back!"

"N-not so loud," he pleaded of her. He wasn't sure he was going to be able to stop vomiting. What if it just kept coming? Could he cough up his own organs? His stomach was starting to clench again. "Brnn-wn-!" he almost begged, although there was little enough she could do. A neutralize poison had already killed the alcohol in his veins before it could bake his brain or his liver, but a body's decision to purge itself of wine and meal wasn't any form of curable ailment.

"Ach, I'm here, I'm here," she told him gently as he vomited out again, and she rubbed firmly over his back to sooth him. He gagged and coughed out bile and spit. "You'll be fine. I promise."

Her touch...

... it was reassuring, especially where the muscles were clenching in the lumbar and beneath the lungs. But it was also the opposite of reassuring, and let him wanting to vomit even worse. There were tears in his eyes from retching, and his arms shook violently despite the fact that he was now only mildly tipsy.

"I f-feel it," he gagged. "The t-touch of that monster, when I try to trance, to sleep, wh-when anyone-!" he grimaced and shuddered, coughing.

Branwen frowned at the back of his head uncertainly. "What?" she asked him worriedly.

"I f-feel, all the... I feel him t-touching my..."

Her eyes widened in surprise.

"Branwen; it is not your fault, and I am sorry to have blamed you. I c-can't s-sleep- I can barely-!" He lurched hard and vomited yet again.

"Ain't no one touching you but meself," she promised in a lowered voice, pushing the heel of her palm into the muscles of his back as she rubbed soothingly up and down. "And I'll nae hurt you."

He sputtered and gave a weak and breathy cackle, grasping at his face and rubbing despairingly over his closed eyes. "I'm a-an enchanter," he whispered, and his voice suggested he was terrified or found something ironic. "An enchanter who's lost h-his mind." His voice rose to an almost blissful, manic or perhaps terrifyingly anxious peak.

"You've done no such thing," Branwen scolded him. "They'll be ups and downs, right there will, but you've nae lost your mind. And you've got friends to help catch the downs." She felt the muscles in his waist start flutter but then still. He gagged slightly all the same.

"F-friends...!" he gasped. "I've... I've known you... l-less than... a week! M-my friend... Nildoen nín! My friend of eight and f-fourty years is d-dead and eaten, with naught left b-but the shards of his bones b-buried at in the depths of some unknown p-pit!"

He sagged then, but, as Branwen's arm was already around him, she caught him. She pulled the frail elf back from the wall, holding him against her as his nausea gave way to grief. He didn't grab at her or push her away, holding his arms pathetically close to his chest and bowing his shoulders. A broken wail snaked out of him. His cyan eyes went cloudy with saline that trickled freely down his face. He sobbed, and sobbed hard. Branwen had never seen a man (or a woman, until recently) bawl so pathetically in her entire life.

Alarmed, and uncertain how one ought to calm a person who had trouble with touch, she still had to resort to gently chafing his arms. "Hey, hey, Xan," she muttered in dismay before hiking him up in a hug and pulling his face into her shoulder. He cried, but he didn't seem to be shrinking from her touch. This is going to end up with him throwing up on me, she already knew. "It's okay. It's going ta be fine," she promised him, rocking and patting him. "I know it all seems right screwed up now, and it is! But it'll level out in the end, you'll see."

She held on to him because it didn't seem he could stand under his own power anymore. After a few long and painful minutes, the elf wiggled his arms free from the pathetic, defensive place he'd coiled them in front of his chest, and instead eased both of them around her back. He hugged her, lightly at first, weakly, and then tighter. Branwen frowned down at him and sighed. "I got ye, elf. Ain't gonna let ye down; and ain't gonna let no one hurt ye either."

He was well beyond speech, but nodded that he believed her.

Branwen entered Nashkel Inn to see Jaheira and Khalid were awake and reminiscing on old times in the common room. Aegis, whom she'd expected to see come down to the tavern for a drink, was still nowhere to be found. Dynaheir was enjoying her spellbook in the corner. Khalid glanced up when Branwen entered and then stumbled to his feet in alarm.

"Xan?" he asked. "W-what happened?"

Branwen gave a wry half-smile as she carried in her burden; she wasn't the strongest woman in the world, but he also wasn't the heaviest man. "He had too much wine is all, Khalid. Just a wee bit o' indignity. I'll stay with him an hours or so to keep an eye on him. Don't worry, he got dizzy before he could lose his clothing or start dancing on the bar."

The elf in her arms heaved a weak laugh. "Seldarine for that..." he muttered.

As the days festivities wound down, Imoen found herself back at the inn and wrapped around a halfling. As she traced her fingers gently up and down the scars on his back, she thought about the future. "Jaheira and Khalid are leaving the day after tomorrow. And then, after that, you too..." 

"Aye," Montaron breathed softly into her sternum. "Good thing, too. Yer kickin' the shit out of me. I think I'm too old for ye, Pink," he teased, nuzzling exhausted into her chest.

She grinned and lowered her head to touch her brow to his crown. "You sure you ain't a dwarf?" she teased , running her thumb gently over the point of his ear and earning a low, content mumble in exchange. "No; you're bad tempered enough but I hear dwarves have great stamina..."

"If I were a dwarf, ye pink loon, ye wouldn't be screaming to the high heavens for Sune ta save ye each night, now would ye?"

"I do not scream!" she protested in a laughing whisper. "If I did, think how traumatized Xan would be next door."

The halfling smirked half into her skin, opening an eye to peer lazily up at her. "Ye don't scream? Well whatever ya do, 'tsa delight on a man's ears," he rumbled warmly. "Do I need to be rollin' off o' ye or is the weight fine? Cause I'm not sure I can feel my... anything... right now."

"Please rest assured my left boob is quite happy to be your pillow for the evening," she giggled, hugging him to her and kissing his hair. He closed his eyes. "Get some sleep; I hear they've fresh bacon for breakfast tomorrow."

"Ya speaks as Lightfoot poetry a'times," he commended her sleepily. "Could be a bard with a tongue like that."

Edwin was up. Though he wasn't moving very quickly, he'd risen a few hours past dawn and ended up looking irritably at the food the bartender supplied. No kitchen wenches in the early morning hours; not till drinking time. Dynaheir nook note of him. Though he bristled slightly when she rose to greet him, he didn't say anything hostile.

"May I help thee?" she asked tactfully.

It had taken Edwin awhile to figure Dynaheir's offer of 'collaboration' out. He hadn't wanted to end up in another situation where her actions could startle him, so he'd taken some time to deduce her motives. It had taken a certain amount of mental wrangling and a fair bit of imagination, but his biggest clue was her repeated assertion that they were not currently enemies.

After their encounter with the ogres, Edwin realized, Dynaheir no longer felt justified in preemptively attacking him. Left declawed, so to speak, the Wychlaran was trying to elude their inevitable violent confrontation by other means.

Of course Edwin had no intention of returning any of Dynaheir's overtures of 'friendship' (if it could be called that in any sense of the term, idealized or otherwise; 'self preservation' would have been more accurate) but watching the witch stumble over herself trying to curry favor was pleasurable. The proper place of the Rashemi people was in service to their racial betters, after all. He'd let her humiliate herself until he had a bit more use of his arm.

"Be my guest, witch," he answered mockingly. "It is nice to have slaves so far from home."

The Rashemi eyed him with a certain look.

Nearby, Jaheira wondered if Dynaheir might not lift up the bowl of grits and simply dump them on Edwin's head. But apparently the woman's good heart won out over petty anger, because she gave little more than a tolerant sigh and helped him carry his dishes. The kind gesture was undoubtably lost on Edwin; his ilk were not the sort to understand or broker for peace, within or without.

Xan was watching Branwen scarf down her fourth plate of ham, eggs, grits, gravy, and hashed browns; he was still wondering where she managed to actually put it all. He was working out a theory for the trans-dimensional metaphysics of Northeimer appetites when at last she gave a big sigh and wiped her mouth. "Well! That was delightful! You haven't touched your crepes; is something wrong with them?"

Xan looked patiently down at the food, and then back up at her. "I'm still contemplating them."

Garrick joined them for breakfast. The bard looked pensive. He shot Branwen several indecipherable side-eyes.

"Well if you think you're going to throw up again, I'd advise against it," Branwen decided at last. "How you feeling about last night, by the way?"

The bard straightened in alarm.

Xan was about to deflect the question when he noticed Garrick's face and remembered that the bard and cleric usually roomed together, and that Garrick would know Branwen hadn't slept in her bed last night.

"Nothing happened!" the wizard exclaimed, turning red-faced with embarrassment. "I became terribly intoxicated, as I believe you saw, but not in a good way! Branwen helped me purge. Then she took it upon herself to sit in my room and ensure I didn't smother myself in my sleep- nothing else happened!"

The bard sat back with a bemused expression. Branwen glanced between them and then looked at her plate. "Well would ye look at that!" she said, picking up her bowl. "I've got no more grits. I should fix that, I should," she said, and got up to get another bowl.

Garrick and Xan watched her go and then looked awkwardly at one another.

"We are not-" Xan hissed at the same time Garrick whispered, "It's fine I-" Then, both seemed to come to the simultaneous conclusion that there was no real need for this conversation, and they looked around awkwardly for something better to discuss. "We are not at all together," the elf decided to reassure him anyway. Garrick shrugged, and responded with a resigned: "We never will be, I know that."

Xan wondered at the bard's surrender. Then he decided it was his job to steer the conversation on to kinder subjects. "I'm surprised Aegis is not up yet," he said aloud, though he did lift up one of the crepes and dip it in cream for his consumption. He was feeling... better... He had purged more than wine and dinner the night before. "I didn't think she had it within her to sleep through the dawn."

"Well, has anyone checked on her?" Edwin asked testily, settling down to enjoy his meal. "Or on Imoen, for that matter? I seem to remember someone mentioning the Harpers will be leaving tomorrow, so today would be an ideal time for the Zhents to disappear... And isn't there an incredible bounty on-"

"I hear a Thayvian's voice!" exclaimed a ranger woman from the hallway. "It sounds like it's misbehaving again!" Aegis entered the common room with a thin tunic, a wince, and apparently no chemise. "It's good to know something stings worse than you talking all day or Jaheira's temper, though."

"Oh good morning, fair leader. Why are you so obviously under-dressed, if I may ask? (I am not entirely certain whether this is a good change or a bad change, actually... Hmm...)"

"The first thing you notice about a woman is her breasts?" asked Jaheia with an irritable glare at the Thayvian.

"What else is there to notice, exactly? (Still thinking... Can we convince other women to go about in this state of dishevelment? The tavern wenches, perhaps?)"

"Glad you're alive too, Edwin," Aegis said kindly as she fetched some breakfast. Khalid glanced her way and stiffened.

"Aegis, you're b-bleeding!" That drew attention from more than one person. She did indeed have numerous light, washed-out splatters of blood along the back of her tunic.

"Aye," their leader confirmed. "I did mention a sting, didn't I?"

"What h-happened!?"

"Well I wasn't assassinated, if that's what everyone was hoping," she teased as she picked from the spread of breakfast items available and waited for the cook to cover her plate in them. He then passed her a bowl of fish heads. Aha. Apparently someone had memorized Xzar's usual order. Aegis carried one meal in each hand and headed back to join her party. She seemed calm, but the most observant among them noticed dark circles under her eyes. "Don't everyone interrupt their meals on my account. I'm fine."

Jaheira leaned over to have a look at her shirt and then shot Aegis a bewildered look, wondering what kind of nonsense could have led to such a state of disarray. "Were you assaulted by a fleet of mice for some reason?" she asked dryly, as Aegis put down plate and bowl each in their respective positions and then sat down to eat.

It was Edwin, not Aegis, who replied: "No, she is apparently letting someone ink her skin. I wonder who? (If she says the barbarian, I do believe I will have to recommend we oust her from leadership, as it would mean she had taken leave of her senses... )"

"Xzar," Aegis responded, stabbing up ham and eggs as quite a number of people shot bewildered looks her way. Their confusion nearly made her choke, and she had to duck and forcefully swallow her first mouthful of breakfast to clear her airway. "You've all got to stop looking at me like that when I show some new indication I trust him; I share a bed with the man."

The necromancer in question appeared soon afterwards, humming to himself with his teapot in hand and flitting over to join Aegis at her side. He also looked tired. Before he sat down, however, he leaned over to kiss his lover's brow, and the affection was so chaste it remained bizarre to most onlookers. He plopped into his seat, beamed a, "Good morning, flesh bags!" to everyone, and then set to dissecting his breakfast while his tea steeped.

"(Mad, they're all mad.) Why do I follow you around again?" Edwin asked. "Oh, yes, I remember," he looked at Dynaheir at his side, "you. Can I kill you yet? (And if not, would you also mind eschewing your underclothing?)"

The whole table jumped when Dynaheir slapped him. Edwin was nearly knocked off his chair. He grabbed at his cheek and then looked at her in surprise. "What the hells was that for!?"

"Keep thine lecherous eyes to thineself!" she told him. 

"You miserable wretch of a woman! If you honestly believe I would have a moment's interest in-!"

"Edwin!" came a delighted squee, as a purple thief bounced into the common room (from the kitchen, surprisingly) and threw herself at their injured wizard from behind. "You're up!"

"-gyak!" the Red Wizard was cut off by far too much buoyant thief for any one man to handle. Half a man, perhaps, but not one.

"I'm so glad you're feeling better! You should see the carnival at night! I saw a lot of robes on sale! There was a potion's specialist, only I couldn't identify everything! Hey, do you want to go shopping? The pastries are really good here! I've been eating tons of cake and muffins, just like you said not to! Say do you want any? Sprinkles or non? Chocolate? Vanilla?!"

"Get it off of me before I kill someone!" the violated Thayvian hissed desperately, eyes wide, clutching at himself like he was being molested.

"Oh boy," Aegis muttered as she took her feet. She reached over and hoisted Imoen off the ground (and off the wizard) by the scruff of her cloak. She turned and deposited Imoen on the other side of herself, and set to lecturing: "Okay first of all, you? I don't know what you ate this morning, but you are going to go run it off from here to the Belching Dragon three times and back.

"What!? No! I was baking! It's not my fault the batter's so good! Weee!"

The Thayvian, who looked like he'd just successfully avoided having a seizure from embarrassment, lifted up a hand and sputtered something in draconic. The ensuing cloud of bats flew straight at Imoen, who shrieked in alarm and then sprinted out the door.

"Okay! OKAY! EDWIN!" she screamed as she went. "AEII!"

Aegis coughed a laugh, glanced at Edwin—who appeared to be the Thayvian equivalent of mildly traumatized—and then focused on Dynaheir. "Why are you the one sitting next to him?"

The witch huffed. "He needed help eating."

"There are a lot of people here significantly less dangerous to help him with that task than you," Aegis told her frankly. "Though I'm sure everyone appreciates your help, it's probably best you two aren't in stabbing distance of each other. Or slapping, apparently. Not that he didn't deserve it."

" 'Not that I didn't-!?' " sputtered Edwin, but Aegis gave him a look and he simmered angrily down.

Jaheira glared at him and said, "Do not comment on a woman's bosom to her face, fool."

He bristled superciliously. "I recall doing no such thing, druid," he said with the same emphasis she'd put on 'fool.'

Dynaheir moved take another place at the table. 

"Well," Aegis slowly sat back down and picked back up her fork. "Why everyone still harps on me for Xzar is a mystery." She glanced to him. "How are you enjoying your breakfast, by the way?"

Xzar, who had apparently ignored the entire scene going on around him, sucked out one of the fish's eyes and considered the question. "They could use a little more white pepper," he told her. "But the sherry in the broth is a nice touch. Oh, hello, Monty! Good morning! Your lady friend was just chased out the door by a hoard of bats. I don't believe the Thayvian appreciated her hugs half as much as you seem to."

The halfling was grimacing and wiping sleep from his face. "The hells are ye all able to get up so gods be damned early for? Is like the only one of ye still asleep that barbarian? Ain't no cause for needing so much damn sunlight."

"Minsc is out exercising," Dynaheir corrected.

Xzar leaned over and whispered loudly at Monatron. "If you need any potions of stamina..."

"What!? Oh shut yer yap, fool wizard, before I start off me day good by stabbin' ye!"

Well that put Edwin in better spirits, if the snicker coming from back that way was any indication. Branwen laughed; looked like she had an appetite for raunchy humor. More than Jaheira's, at any rate. And more than Aegis, at least when it involved her own sister.

Before Montaron headed out to do some errands, he shot Xzar a look that the necromancer returned slyly. A small gesture; a fraction inclination of the head; they did not need to speak to share such thoughts; they had both been groomed in the same wretched corner of the world, and paranoia was in their blood.

They did not trust Khalid and Jaheira. It was true that Xzar and Montaron were more likely to ambush the Harpers than vice versa, but neither Zhent cared for playing roulette with their lives. The way the plan stood now, the Harpers could easily get ahead of them and engineer an ambush, and neither Zhent was willing to risk that no matter its likelihood.

And who would cry over the dead bodies of an assassin and a necromancer? Dead out on the road someplace, picked clean by vultures; Aegis would not only be unable to avenge them but might never even be made aware they had fallen. What good did vengeance do a dead man, anyway? 

They needed to leave first. And since Jaheira and Khalid were scheduled to head out in the morning, that meant the two Zhents would be leaving under cover of night, tonight. To make the deadline work, and because he saw Aegis was willing, Xzar had insisted on extending the tattooing session all the previous afternoon and on through late evening. Now instead of scrambling to finish, he could simply nap during the day and rest up for a midnight departure.

The only detail he and Montaron would need to address verbally, thought Xzar, was the question of whether they killed Jaheira on the way out. She was clearly the better-connected and more influential of the two Harpers, and she had started all previous infighting. Montaron wouldn't want to leave that loose end. He would be keen on tying it up.

Xzar would have to dissuade him. The necromancer looked to Aegis, watching her face as she spoke with her friends. Jaheira was insignificant in the grand scheme of things; especially compared to staying in Aegis' good favor. And he sincerely doubted he could explain away murdering his Little Death's auntie. If he wanted Jaheira dead, he would have to unmake her through more indirect means, and now was simply not the time.

{Edwin, I'm going to be traumatized by bats for the rest of forever,} the thief whined.

{Good. Never, ever, ever do that again,} the wizard grimaced. {(If I wanted a wench touching me, I'd pay for one!)}

Dynaheir made a noise of disgust. She'd moved away from Edwin, but not so far away that two fools shouting at one another were inaudible to her. {You have a gutter mind, Red Wizard,} she called, and if Edwin hadn't been busy handling one woman, he might have chided Dynaheir for revealing a skill she otherwise might have used to spy on him.

"What language is that?" Aegis asked from a table nearby, and it was probably for the best that she interrupted them.

"As I told you in the caves, it is Mulhorandi," Xzar explained. "The language of Thay and Mulhorand."

"Immy, why are you fluent in Thayvian?" the ranger as Branwen offered her some minor healing magic to settle the inflammation from the inking process.

"I'm not fluent!" Imoen was still pouting, "and I know lots of stuff you don't! It's not my fault you were never interested in languages! We could have spoken them with each other!"

"I know Elvish!" Aegis disputed. "And Auld Thorass!"

"That's like totally nothing!" Imoen disagreed.

"Maybe this is like how she speaks drow," Aegis supposed. "Only it actually came in handy for something?"

Xan and Garrick were off to the side discussing quietly with one another in a corner. The elf appeared to be sympathetic to whatever it was he was listening to. At least until Imoen haughtily proclaimed,

"Siyo, rothe, nindol zhah saph lu'oh Usstan telanth ilythiiri!" and Xan spun to look at her with a horrified expression on his face and a hand clasped to his breast, as if he'd just nearly suffered a fatal heart attack. Imoen burst out laughing.

"Please do not profane my ears!" their elfin enchanter begged. "Such words are as putrid fire on the soul!"

"Her Mulhorandi is also abysmal on the ears, though that is entirely due to the foul butchering of the sounds involved," Edwin complained. "Child, can you not roll your 'r's at all? Can you please at least attempt to? Try it."

Imoen put her tongue to the roof of her mouth. She got a few flicks of the r, but not many, and Edwin made an expression of pain. "Oh shove it!" she complained. "You chased me out the door with bats, your insults are invalid!"

{You were grossly violating my right to my own personal space! I am a Red Wizard! In Thay you would have been drawn and quartered for your impudence!}

{We are not in Thay!}

"Well," Garrick remarked casually, "they now have their own language to bicker in. They must be getting along swimmingly." That got a laugh out of Aegis, who nearly choked out her morning tea.

"I can speak Mulhorandi as well," Dynaheir revealed to her as Imoen and Edwin traded jabs back and forth. "They art hurling childish insults at oneother. Despite her protests to the contrary, Imoen is becoming quite fluent. Oh." A blush rose in her dark cheeks and she propped up her chin on her knuckles. "Well now they art being vulgar."

"Yes, this is a good sign," Aegis agreed with Garrick, who laughed. "A very good sign."

"There! That should do the trick," Branwen told her, with a hearty pat on her back. It didn't hurt at all. "You're mended. If you'd like to go back to the inking, you can. How big is it?"

"He finished it already," Aegis told her with a yawn, which might have explained the dark circles under her eyes. "Went straight through the night. Well, technically that's not accurate. First there was highly spontaneous sex, and then a long bath, and then he inked it through the night. I don't care how much milk of the poppy he gave me, I was not going to fall asleep. That was a whole new special unique kind of annoying pain"

"How big is it?" Jaheira asked again

"The full back," Aegis answered.

"What is it?" Branwen asked.

Aegis looked up at her and then laughed. "I don't know. He has not let me see yet. But! He let Imoen see so she could approve the design for me. Speaking of which, Xzar, are you going to let me look in a mirror yet?"

Xan slowly covered his face with a hand and shook his head back and forward. Jaheira's eye twitched, and Khalid looked about to speak up. Xzar giggled. "I supposseeee so," the necromancer drawled.

Out of all concerned parties involved, it was Dynaheir who said something first: "You let a man put permanent ink into your skin for hours upon excruciating hours without insisting on seeing the design first or knowing what it could be?"

Aegis shrugged. "Would you believe I didn't really care? It's not like I can see it. Let the wizard tattoo a giant scorpion all over me if that floats his boat. At least that makes me scary. Why?"

The womenfolk (sans Imoen, as she was still in a battle of witticisms with Edwin) and Khalid looked at one another in alarm. Xan was still mid facepalm.

"Alright. Reveal time," Jaheira muttered, standing up and grabbing Aegis's shoulder to tug her to her feet. "Back room, now. I think we all want to see what you've so foolishly let the Zhent do to you."

"Hey!" the necromancer exclaimed as he surged to his feet with fists clenched. "No! Why should you lot see? You are not entitled to see whatever you wish! Be gone with your nasty eyes! She can show you after she's seen it herself if she wishes!"

"It's fine, Xzar," Aegis laughed, but then wondered if maybe he'd meant it to be somewhat private. "Isn't it?"

The madman fussed in place. "No! I mean... Not Dynaheir! And not Khalid, he's not even a woman! I think. Are you?"

Aegis was surprised and Jaheira narrowed her eyes. "What did you do, madman?" the druid asked suspiciously, for there were only so many reasons Xzar would oust the witch, specifically, from the room.

Dynaheir slowly worked through which reason that might be: "Why me, if not for my magic? Is it an enchantment, then, that he should fear a wizard's eye?" Realization struck. "Tattoo magic! Xan, help us, we must determine exactly what he has done! I thought perhaps the Thayvian capable of such things, but a Zhent?"

Hearing himself mentioned, Edwin (and by extension Imoen), finally noticed something was wrong. Imoen hurried over to get a better sense of what was going on.

"Everyone!" Aegis protested, but then Jaheira was shoving her down the hallway and Aegis barely had the heart to protest. "Jaheira! Dyna- everyone! Hey!" She set her feet in the ground and stopped moving, not because she was particularly angry but because she saw Xzar looked ready to hyperventilate.

"Aegis this is no time to act like a child," Jaheira snarled at her. "If you had but mentioned this to anyone-!"

"Chauntea's sake, woman, you are not my mother," Aegis told her. "Back off. Xzar, come here."

The necromancer flit through the throng immediately to join her side, looking up at her worriedly. "I do not want the other wizards to see!" he said in a hiss. "Nor the clerics!"

"What did you do?" she asked him.

He squirmed in his own skin. "It is an enchantment," he told her guiltily. "Like Dynaheir guessed. I wasn't certain it would work, but it did. I had never done something like it on anything live before, but I still had plenty of practice. "

"What?" Imoen exclaimed. "But you showed me the design so I could approve of it! It was a symbol of nature, not a spell! Unless the magic was in the symbol, somehow?"