To Make a Killing. A Baldur's Gate Let's Play

[VAE]

Well. This is yet another of those times that the lynx decides to do something relatively ill-advised.
You see, last winter I got myself Baldur's Gate I and II from GOG, thanks to the ease of importing character portraits made Inquisitor Miron Steelsprocket (on of my long-term 3.5 characters, emulated as a gnome cleric) a character, and had an overall fun time with I ending in Sarevok perishing underneath a deluge of skeletons. I was thinking of maybe writing something for II, but it was starting up all kinds of meh.

Well, since then, story goings on in Akellon demanded I get a new character for future use, and I did - Burmice of Lazrien, a somewhat silly drow dread necromancer and butcher.  Well, unexpectedly, she turned out to have hardness bypassing attack against my writing block, and so this Thursday, wanting to blow steam after a particularly nasty piece of coursework, I decided to try starting a BG game with her, taking screenshots, and to see whether it'll work.

Anyways, that's for the prattle.  This LP is expected to be rather silly, due to both the upcoming end of last school year, and my inherent failness, the update schedule is expected to be irregular, and the whole thing is expected to contain oodles of strong language, I almost forgot.

Not much else to decide - I'm expecting the party to end up being Burmy herself, Imoen, Montaron, Xzar, Viconia, and either of Edwin, Kagain or Branwen (never enough clerics. Never)

If you have comments, advice, objections or death threats, you are free to voice them, the first installment should be coming up shortly.

[VAE]

Warning, this text might contain instances of strong language, counterfactual claims and general unmitigated silly.

Chapter I - F*** my life, Episode II

It was one of those days.
[spoiler][/spoiler]
Like every great screw-up, it started off innocent enough. It was still morning, I had quite enough of pointless errands and vermin extermination (Seriously. Such demeaning work for an arcanist of my ability, but then it's easy and pays the bills well, so I suppose...) and wanted nothing else but to go home (Since when were drow even supposed to prance about in plain sunlight.) , put my legs up on a chair, and read a book.
I opened the door and walked in. . .
[spoiler][/spoiler]
. . . only to found a stranger already inside. A rather chatty stranger, too, which quickly did away with the possibility he's a burglar.
Instead, the man was an idiot.
Lolth's tits, I almost felt bad for him. My last assassin at least had the decency to chat me up, then poke a dagger through my eye when I was lying in the bed -  webbed pits, if not for the little  inconvenient fact of me being, let's say, a little less alive than most, he'd have succeeded.

I guess at this point, I should actually tell you about myself.
[spoiler][/spoiler]

My name is Burmice of Lazrien, and I'm an arcanist. I specialize . .. well, used to specialize in necromancy, which is probably the reason I ended up here.
That particular day actually wasn't all that different from this one, merely a good few shades darker, which given Ezzebek was an Underdark city wouldn't surprise a rothe.
It suffices to say I learned two things - that the blood of an Orgolloys (a bunch of filthy heretic commoners crawling out from Goddess knows where and taking the people of Ezzebek by surprise and sheer numbers) monk does little to improve a scroll, and that there's no limits to what you can do when you have no idea what you are doing. Especially if you are a scared but industrious young necromancer with her hands full of rare tomes , a vague mental picture of her destination, and a soiled scroll of teleport.
Suffices to say, Lolth herself must have been amused, as, while the spell undoubtedly worked and I got the hell out before one of those lowlife scum fed me his knuckles dipped in paralytic poison, I somehow ended up on the surface,  on a street full of humans, of all.
Well, it turns out that for all human racial deficiencies, lack of industry isn't one of them. While our paler distant cousins worshipping their stupid malformed deity (Legends say Goddess dumped him in favour of Gruumsh, and in all honesty, I'd probably have done the same) would have shot me on sight, a wizard by the name of Gorion approached, and offered help in clean undercommon.  Well. He offered me a place to stay within the keep's walls and a substantial sum of money in return for my tomes.  Of course, I was having none of that rotheshit, but he was quick to remind me what happens to drow trotting about in public outside of the walls, and apparently, requesting a rare tome to grant one entry to the fortress (which is apparently named Candlekeep because wizards have no creativity whatsoever) is common practice.
In the end, we managed to negotiate a decent deal for both sides - I'll still get to handle my books, live in the place for as long as I care to, and he'd train me in the arcane arts on top of that.
Sucker, I know.
Regardless, life was all fine and comfy until a few days ago when he got itchy feet and began urging me to pack up and leave with him. . . somewhere. Of course, I dismissed it as half-assed attempts to find a loophole in our deal, as even if there was a risk, this place was well-suited to withstand anything short of a malformed Locate City spellform (and those were only theoretically proven to work).  However, the chattering imbecile in front of  me put the whole issue in a different light entirely.
[spoiler][/spoiler]
"If there's something pitiful, it's either you calling five coppers an exceptional amount, or that someone else was so stupid as to hire you for more, rotheshit"
As expected, the little balding freak of nature pounced at me like a swordspider at a dead slave. Except that dead slaves aren't masters of necromancy, I suppose.
"The fuck!?"
Such utterly boring last words, uttered as the little man with his little dagger saw my hands, crackling with necrotic energy, but he was too close and it was too late.
[spoiler][/spoiler]
Parts of his face and neck rotted away where I touched him, leaving exposed muscle and bone, and more importantly, leaving the blood vessels in his neck weak enough to burst on their own. He folded down, not even able to scream.
I looked him through - aside from the smelly rags, all he had was a simple dagger, no doubt provided by his employers. For a moment, I felt honestly insulted by what someone apparently thought was enough to take me off this world.
I turned on foot and walked outside, intent on seeking someone who'd clean that piece of filth right out of my home. I don't mind handling bodies, but not when I'm wearing my one decent dress.
[spoiler][/spoiler]
"Oh Parda! There was a man there, he smelled like the stables!  He tried to kill me. It was horrible - he bled all over my robe and dress!"
"Calm down, at least you're alive and well."
"Of course I am - but ...look at the stains. They even smell like him! Ugh! And I need to get rid of the corpse, too."
The old man scratched his chin.
"Can't do much with the stains, child. Prestidigitation was never among my strengths, you gotta find yerself a better wizard indeed.  As for the corpse, Dreppin might be willing to help."
"True, hmm... Bye."
Of course. Dreppin, candlekeep's herder. If anyone would be willing to do the cleanup for me, it was the man who spent his days shovelling shit out of a barn. And of course, near the barn is where I found him.
"Hello Dreppin!" I put on the sweetest smile I could manage.
"Hey,  uh, Burmice, right? Listen up."
[spoiler][/spoiler]
He slapped a particularly large and hungry-looking fly on his forehead, and snorted. "Bloody mess when the cows eat it too."
I tried to look interested, and nodded along as he went to explain a theory on how paper is made from trees, and since trees are plants, his cow eating books is like him eating stale bread. There was more to it, but I successfully kept it out of my mind.
"Oh, incidentally, I got plans for you as well, Dreppin. But, later."
[spoiler][/spoiler]
A bit of digging in the hay, and sure enough, there it was.  It wasn't even the oddest place  Phlydia has left a book before, either, which incidentally also involved ... eh, let's not get into that.

"Hey Phlydia! I bet you're missing something!"
Yeah?" She grinned. "And what'd that be, oh wise Burmice?"
"Your wits. Also, a book. But I haven't found the former, sorry!"
She looked at me again, a peppery response already forming on her tongue, then looked at the book, froze, and began to frantically thank me.  That's our Phlydia, but, I rather like her anyways. Competent enough to be worth talking to, silly enough that it's fun, and she's great for borrowing scrolls from because she forgets all about the deal in a day or two.
[spoiler][/spoiler]
And there, she's back to her usual sarcastic self.
"Why thank you, Phlydia. Such a compliment coming from someone very special on their own is unbelievably flattering." We both laughed, I pocketed the gem (As good as she was at losing things, she was at inexplicably finding other ones) and back to the herder it was.

"So, about that business, Dreppin. Would you mind.."
Of course, he didn't even let me get a word in edgewise, and it was cows again.
[spoiler][/spoiler]
"I bet it was 'er eatin' one of them books again, too. Bloody books."
More like you having a date with Lady de Bottle while they were grazing on weeds with a side-order of hemlock or something.
Ah well, I probably needed to have a chat with one of the guards anyways. Mostly chewing them out about letting in... I mean, the man looked illiterate.
I set off towards the keep's gates.

...only to be approached by Jondallar, barely walking, and reeking of moonshine.
[spoiler][/spoiler]
"Sod off, you liquor-drenched excuse for a humanoid."  
Words can't encompass the wrong this man has spewed in a single sentence. Gorion is not my father, I never used a staff in my life (Seriously, where'd you even get wood in the Underdark from), he sure as hell wouldn't commission a drunken idiot to teach fighting to an arcanist, and most of all, it's not like this sack of crap gets up any earlier than I do. Besides, working through nighttime is only natural if you're a drow.

Unfortunately for him, Jondalar didn't take my not so subtle hint to heart and with a disgusting grin revealing rotten teeth, and a battle cry of "Engender... Engineer... On guard, missy!"  he lunged after me.
As expected I punched him right in his ugly mug.
[spoiler][/spoiler]
"Erik? Arrows? Jondalar, you fuck, were you drinking absinthe again?"
"Out there it's pretty important to.. fighting with allies on your side, missy. Like that one time I .. what was it.. Right, a wyrm. A huge wyrm with glowing eyes and a fiery mane... wait what did I do to it."
"Lemme guess, you ran away as it ate that 'ally' of yours."
"Uhm. As I said, fighting with allies on your side,  important it is."  With a hillarious 'thinker'  face, the drunk finally buggered off.
Of course, my luck was short-lived.
[spoiler][/spoiler]
"Goddess, I told you you're on the list, Reevor. I'm a busy woman, what with everyone having rat trouble around here. Can't you get a cat or something?."
The dwarf grinned nervously.
"Ehh.. I did. Come, better have a look yourself." I followed him to the barn.
"Ladies first!" He held the door open, and of course I walked inside, realizing far too late that Reevor and etiquette go together about as well as rothe and a frilly dress.
[spoiler][/spoiler]
What can I say. If I was a cat I'd be scared, too.  The foul beasts acknowledged my presence and with a blood-curdling squeak, lunged after my feet...
[spoiler][/spoiler]
. . .and bounced right off my boots. What can I say, being comfy isn't the only reason I wear the old clunkers.
[spoiler][/spoiler]
[spoiler][/spoiler]
As soon as I was done, the kitties proceeded to glomp down the rat corpses. Poor things, must have been hungry. I bet that moron doesn't even give them milk.
Feeling faintly proud of myself, I walked out of the barn.

"Allright, soo.. that'll be my usual rate, plus two gold given their unusual size, and I charge double for out of order work."
[spoiler][/spoiler]
"Fuck you too, Reevor! You owe me at least three more, and that's me being nice!"
"What? For eight, you'd have to kill cows!. Not a copper more."
"Three. Gold. Now."
"Yeah? Make me."
"Oh, fine." I smiled and put on my sweetest voice. "I'll just go back to the barn, and have a bit of fun. And we'll see how you like cat-sized rat skeletons hungry for dwarven flesh instead."
With an unchanged expression, he took out his pouch and counted out three gold pieces.
"Choke on them,  bitch!" he uttered through his moustache.
"A nice day to you too."  Goddess, sometimes I love being an exterminator.




As expected, Hull was standing by the gate with a tired look. Town guard and alchemist does sound like a slightly unusual combination, but it makes sense when you realize his entire skill boils down to making hangover antidotes, and , let's say, special drinks that guarantee you'll need one of the former.
The fact that Dreppin realized they also cure bovine digestive problems surprised nobody.
"Hull. We need to-"
He didn't raise his head, and I'm not entirely sure he recognised me.
[spoiler][/spoiler]
"Hey, 'kid'. While you've been napping, an ass-ass-in managed to snuck in to Candlekeep. Would you please lift your arse and go do whatever paperwork is there to be done around the corpse, so that it won't soil my house anymore?"
"Uh, no can do, Burmy. I gotta guard."
"Oh well. Have a nice day, maybe we'll meet again one of these days..."
"Uh, the sword? Please?"
"I'm a busy woman!"
"I really really need it, please. I got in trouble last week for a hole in my uniform-"
"You wear a cuirass, arse!"
"Uh, it unexpectedly rusted right through.. not my fault.. and the Gatewarden, he said I'm on probation. Please, Burmy."
"What did you say?"
"I .. pretty please, I'll pay you! Uh.. is fifteen enough?"
"Ooh, now you're speaking my language. Make it twenty and deal."
*sigh* "Thanks."
Lolth's tits. Twenty gold was what I normally earn in a week of purging pests, and my rates aren't low at all.. Well, they say fools and their money quickly part ways, plus, who knows what bribes has he been taking. Probably how that assassin got in. Goddess, I mean, that makes him almost outright guilty of trying to kill me.. I should have asked for twenty five.

Happy as a clam, I walked towards the barracks, my head full of the great deal I just made, almost by memory.
I say almost, because I took a bend one door too early, and ended up in an empty house. It was just my luck that it was somewhat less empty than empty houses usually are.
[spoiler][/spoiler]

Goddess. Another one. And what was the worst, I was all out of magic  I mean, all I expected to do that day was kill a few rats, and you try to focus on your spellbook when you're halfway through the bestest novel ever. (The main character's a fence who can talk herself out of  just about anything, her brother's this really, really cowardly thief. And her lover who's an inquisitor originally sent out to arrest her for tax evasion, swallowed her story, and accidentally got on track of a conspiracy neither of the three knew about. It's *hillarious* )
"If you're so insistent on showing 'em how your guts look strewn over the floor, I suppose I can oblige." I bluffed. For a moment it worked, and the man stopped in his tracks, enough for me to get my dagger ready.
"Eh fuck it. I done killed hardier folk than a pampered city bitch with a sharp tongue. I think I cuts it out of yer head before I collects the bounty." Bulshitting himself into courage clearly was a thing, as he shifted towards me with a quick, careful step, dagger raised in striking position, though his face still showed hints of fear.
I decided to play my card.
"LLOTH KYORL USSA!" I shrieked and struck out with all my strength at his neck ,as soon as he made his move.
"Gaah!"
Unfortunately, it worked better than I'd expect. He jerked, hard enough for my dagger to embed itself in his shoulder muscle instead.
"Die, bitch! Die!"
The pain snapped him to his senses (if he ever had any) , and before I could disengage, he rammed his own dagger into my side, then kicked me away.
Goddess, the pain. Don't get fooled by idiot scribblers who never seen an intelligent undead in their life, we do keep all feeling (never mind when the transformation is far from complete). Which is neat , in a way - eternal life without taste, smell, touch and the rest of them would be quite boring, but of course, it comes with a price.
With clenched teeth, I pulled the dagger out (the wound almost didn't bleed),  blocked the surprised, and by now, rather weakened assassin's hand, and doing it right the second time, slit his throat ear to ear before he could say a word.
[spoiler][/spoiler]

"Filth."
I uttered a few incantations , sealing the wound. I still felt tired and awful, never mind my poor dress getting showered with yet more blood and a puncture hole, but at least it didn't hurt anymore and I wasn't about to start rotting, either.
Once again, there wasn't much there besides the blade and the moron's rags. Curious - with half what it must have taken to bribe the gate guards, whoever's after my neck could surely have afforded someone better than this gutter scum. Either way, the situation has just escalated to rather irritating.

I left the house, making double sure I was headed for the actual barracks.
Hull's kit wasn't hard to find, and if anyone was concerned, I was just picking up the antidote for a cow.

One of the soldiers, appearing even more hungover than Hull, waved at me.
"Hey there, gal, wanna make some nice cash for yerself?"
"Yes?" I hissed, turning towards him. The tone of voice, never mind my bloodied exterior appeared to have done the job, as he reeled back.
"I didn't mean it ... like that. I just need.. you see.."
[spoiler][/spoiler]
After a bit of circling around ,he finally got to the point.
"A 'quarrel' of  'crossbow bolts', I see. I wanted to get one or two myself, anyhow. Never got enough crossbow bolts."  Truth be told,  I was beginning to like this man.  

First things first, though.
[spoiler][/spoiler]
I ran through the coins looking for fakes, before shunting them into my pouch, feeling happy with myself. Say what you will about satisfaction from hard work, it can't possibly beat satisfaction from easy money gained off a sucker.
"Here you go, 'kiddo'. I like it when people keep their word." Ugh.  Where the hell did he even get it from? I mean, I'm probably twice his age, and not even *that* short. Stupid humans, I guess.
Regardless, off to the inn I was.

[spoiler][/spoiler]
Unlike the guard station, Candlekeep Inn was a place I could find with my eyes closed (or rather, an eye closed and an eyepatch over the second one). Winthrop's actually quite fun and smart for a barkeep, besides, drinking in there was profitable.
See, a ton of the outsiders, which inevitably ended up in the inn, were quite unnerved by the sight of a brightly dressed drow drinking her wine at the counter,  and while they were busy staring, Imoen relieved their pouches of most of their contents.
Of course, Winthrop agreed on twenty percent for himself - I said he was smart for a barkeep.


"Morning, Winthrop!"
[spoiler][/spoiler]
The large man grinned.
"Morning, Burmice. So, how's today, working hard, or hardly working?"
"Oh, you know. Cat for hire, mopping up rats as always. Today's count is five four-legged and two two-legged ones." Before he could ask further questions, I changed the topic."Anyways, if I could get a quarrel of bolts for a busy friend, you'd be sweet." Wink, wink, and I didn't even have to nudge.
"A quarrel of bolts, eh? Well, lessee what we got today.", Winthrop said with a wide smile.
[spoiler][/spoiler]
I settled on Arabellan wine (Hey, I made enough today to afford a bit of a splurge), and while I was sipping my glass or three, he folded a bottle of some strong spirit into a rag, and handed it to me with a smile.
"Right, that'll be a gold piece for the bolts, and two for miss's own order."
"Thanks, Winthrop."  I handed the money over. "I knew keeper of the best inn in Candlekeep would have just what I needed. If only we had two of you.. oh, we do."
"Of course. A big mind needs a body of matching scope."
Oh, how I love the git at times.


Lucky for me, the thirsty guard  was still in the barracks.
"Right, here's your bolts, sir"
He grabbed the rag, untapped the bottle with his teeth, and took a swig.
[spoiler][/spoiler]
I looked the dagger over, and sensed a faint magic aura over it.  Not a bad trade for a bottle of low-grade rye spirit.
"Not so quick. You're lucky I'm feeling generous today, but an old knife you fancy calling a dagger doesn't settle the matter quite yet. Listen. Some lowlife scum sneaked into my house this morning with a dagger, and now he's lying there in a heap of rot. You need to sign it off so that someone can get rid of the damn corpse before my house gets drenched with the smell. He stank worse than a floater."
The guard rubbed his forehead.
"Uh, allright. Lemme just get my kit."
"Clever chap."
The whole matter didn't take more than five minutes, as Patrolmaster Fuller signed the case off as accidental death caused by selfinflicted injuries to neck and face.


That matter finally settled, I went off to get Dreppin.
"Right, here's the antidote."
[spoiler][/spoiler]
"Speaking about iron crisis, someone tried to stick a sharp chunk of it into my ribs this morning. Matter's settled with the guard, I just need someone to toss what remains of him out and clean up the mess. For some reason, you strike me as a candidate for the job, Dreppin."
"Uh, I.."
"Well, I was thinking of a gold piece for the service. But yeah, maybe someone else will be happy to afford a gallon of black ale at Winthorp's  for maybe an hour of work. Maybe I'll ask Jondalar...."  
"I, uh,  was to ask, which way's yer home!"  
"Clever. Come."
In about three quarters of an hour, the corpse was out, the floor was spotless again, and with the help of a scroll, I managed to get my dress back to a more representative shape in the meantime.
"Finally"
Feeling satisfied with myself (for all the rush, today has been extremely profitable, and it was early afternoon) I stretched on a chair near the fireplace, and looked around for my book.
"But in the webbed pits." I sighed as I noticed it laying on the floor. In the perhaps the greatest act of malice someone of his grade was capable of, my would-be-assassin apparently mistook its leather binding for a pricey grimoire, leaving greasy fingerprints all over the first few pages, then tossed it away, shaking the bookmark out.
On an unrelated note, whoever wrote something this awesome simply must have been a drow.

[Ignuus66]

 I just finished Baldurs gate 2 a second time 3 months ago, I will be keeping track of this, wonder how different people play it differently. (played the first around 3 years ago)

[Saphroneth]

I do love the mention of the "locate city spellform".
For the uninitiated, this is a questionable interpretation of rules and several metamagic feats (Coldcasting, Flash Frost, Elemental Substitution and Born of Three Thunders, along with probably Arcane Thesis to make the monstrosity actually castable) to turn a very simple spell (Locate City, 10 mile radius circle range per caster level) into a spell with a save. You can then slap another effect on it (Explosive Spell, Fell Drain, whatever) to blanket an area up to several hundred miles across with utter devastation.
So it's a D&D nuke.

[VAE]

Actually, there's a host of  such spells.
The simplest uses Locate City, Coldcasting to turn its type to cold, Flash Frost to add damage (which it does to any cold spell) and then, Fell Drain (which requires a spell that does damage) - essentially a biological warfare weapon, given some effects
The one Saph describes, the nuke, is a bit more complex, and a lot more potent.

[Saphroneth]

Ah, of course.
But if you add both, and give it Persist into the bargain (and why not), you get a magical nuke complete with fallout...

[llearch n'n'daCorna]

*snerk*


I'm wondering if I recognise the contents of that book... it seems vaguely familiar, somehow. Something about "diplomacy means putting a shot across their bow, rather than through their waterline", or various other quotes, spring to mind...

[VAE]

Chapter II - Friendly arms and unfriendly faces

The next morning, I woke from trance with a headache and a stiff neck. In a classic example of things going from bad to worse, I decided that a chat about current situation with Gorion would be marginally more pleasant than cleaning out rats from the temple basement, and dealing with tax forms, both being things best approached with a clear head.

A bit of a rub with herb-infused badger grease went a long way towards making the situation better, so I got dressed, and after a breakfast at Winthrop's (Another deal of ours. As an exterminator, I got free meals for making sure his estabilishment gets reported as having excellent hygiene. Well, that, and the fact that as a professional, I testified at court that the fire which caused his competitor's pub to burn down was caused by ash rats reifying in a poorly maintained enchanted oven. Which was completely true, actually, I just left out the part where the rats were hauled around in a water-soaked wooden box) I strolled off towards the keep.


Walking through the keep gardens, the unholy noise told me the chanters were at it again.
[spoiler][/spoiler]
I mean, everyone sings to themselves on occasion, even me, but why do those who do it least well feel the most need to expose everyone to their throat noises, I can't fathom.
That said, the thought of Lord of Murder perishing seemed vaguely amusing, but then, if Sharess can get drunk, and Shiallia knocked up, why couldn't Bhaal get murdered?
Picking up pace, I left the cacophonists behind, and almost bumped into Imoen, apparently also idling around, and being annoyingly chipper.
[spoiler][/spoiler]
"Maybe, unless my bloody head cracks up.  Damn fucking sun. Now scram!" I grunted, rubbing my eyes and  forehead.
"Paying the taxes for yesterday's good times, huh? And you didn't even invite me,Burmy, serves you right!" Imoen giggled, and ran off before I could react by means of a well-aimed green rosehip to her head.


Gorion wasn't hard to find, resting against the bridge's guard and staring into the water.
"So I take it you didn't hear the news?"
"Uh, wha- Burmice?"
"No. I mean, are there any other drow in Candlekeep? Regardless, I had a visit yesterday, some gutter scum taking immense interest in my head and not a damn about the rest of me. And two hours later, I met another one. Both of them are worm chow now, but it makes one wonder... "
[spoiler][/spoiler]
"Interesting. Two days ago, you come up with the same suggestion, and when I refuse, something happens to push me your way. Are you sure you have no idea where those two came from, or who let them in? I'll only ask once."
The man began laughing.
"Oh dear, it does look that way, doesn't it? Especially to one of your origin... once a drow always a drow." He abruptly stopped, which might have had something to do with me ostentatively toying with my dagger, and began in a serious tone.
"Take my word, I have nothing to do with this, and the only thing I have in mind is safety, your and mine. On one side, you, Imoen and Winthrop aren't quite as clever as you think you are, and I know enough to get rid of any of you three legally, reliably and free of charge if that is what I wanted. On the other side, if I wanted you to do something for me, I could easily make an offer that you'd leap after without thinking, and save myself from having another enemy. Don't look at me like that, and put the dagger down, Burmice,  you're bright enough to know this is true."
"Perhaps. . ." I continued to fiddle with the blade. Webbed pits, it was annoying but the old bastard was right. Anything this could have accomplished, he had levers in his little sweaty hands to do better, and...
His voice interrupted  my thoughts.
"Well, let me put it this way. The news you brought mean we know, rather than merely suspect this place is not protected well. As such, I am leaving - I can call in a couple of old debts to ensure a safe dwelling until I find out who and why is after us,and deal with them accordingly. If you want, you can join me, and if you don't - I shall have to trust your judgement in matters of keeping safe from assassins in a small fortress town where you're well known."
"Fine." I hissed through my teeth. "Give me an hour."
"Let's see. An hour and half. At eleven, near the gates. Keep safe in the meantime."

Feeling exhausted more than anything else, I returned home to pack. I'm not a rothe, and at this point, I didn't expect to be away for long, so I kept it light - gold, valuables, a spare dress, a spare dagger, my spell components pouch and my spellbook. Webbed pits, if I knew what was to come, I'd have taken the  other book with me, too.
Finally, I nailed the windows shut, locked, and with a simple spell, painted "AWAY ON LEAVE" and a pair of celebrating rats in fancy hats on the door.


By the time I arrived, the old bugger was already waiting by the gates, a pipe in his hand.
[spoiler][/spoiler]
"Can I trust them, and will they trust me?"
"I too am a wizard." he grinned. Of course, magic communication, which is probably what he needed the time for. Not really a spectacular feat, nor something I'd be interested  in extensively, but it comes  in handy at times.

We set off southeast, our luggage floating behind us courtesy of a  few choice cantrips. Walking practically unladen, we advanced rather quickly, stopping only a few times to snack on travel biscuits, jerky and ale. Goddess, it's times like these I love being an arcanist - for all her babble about Lolth's grace and divine might, my stupid sister would be huffing  under a travel sack.

As we marched on, the old bastard's mood was clearly improving, and by the evening, he seemed plain out happy.

"We're doing well -  by now, we're about halfway across, and night is about to hit. Anyone trying to track us will have to set up camp, while your race's gift means we can press on and arrive long before morning. Here's the map, Burmice, you'll lead the way, and I'll hold on. We're about here, and we need to go through this way..."
"Clever." I grinned, taking the scroll of parchment. At this point, my feet positively hurt, but then, I enjoy staying alive as much as any other person, and what can I say, the mental image of our pissed off, confused pursuers made me all kinds of happy. (For some reason, I imagined them with Jondallar's crooked teeth, which in a way wasn't entirely off the mark.)

As I should have expected, our luck didn't last long enough to put the plan into place.

It was not an hour later a sudden jerk made  noticed a silhouette in the trees to my left. I guess  getting careless is easy at night,  after all, members of the inferior races wouldn't see that far. "Lolth's tits, there's someone. Hex her or-" I hissed through my teeth, but it was too late.
Six figures, most notably two ogres and a man in the ugliest suit of plate mail I have ever seen encircled us in what seemed like an instant.

The tin-canned man was the first to talk, his helmet decorated by teeth that'd actually put Jondallar to shame. Everything about him screamed of a pathetic attempt at intimidating his opponents, the sort of ridiculous "evil" look that one normally sees in orcish warchiefs, priests of Cyric, or others of feeble mind.
[spoiler][/spoiler]
[spoiler][/spoiler]
Gorion wasn't dumb enough to surrender, and his skill was pretty impressive for a man - most of of the assailants, including the ogres, folded moments later, gaping holes burned into their bodies, or twitching from excess intake of lightning bolt.
[spoiler][/spoiler]
Well, what didn't work for the pair of us could still work for me, what with the flares of combat magic all around, and it being almost pitch dark already - long story short, I commanded the floating luggage, and we disappeared into the darkness, somewhere roughly northwards. After all, if the old bugger will make it through, we'll meet in the Friendly Arm, and if not .. .serves him right, besides, not like I want to be around  for a chat with his surprisingly resilient tinned killer. (the last of the scum I seen alive as I was making a tactical retreat)





What can I say, spending a night outside is something I'd pass on any day, especially when it includes being hunted by assassin scum. After all, in the Underdark, the outdoors is generally full of things trying to kill you, but unlike fellow citizens eager to do the same, they are harder to intimidate, bribe or reason with.  In the end, once I had gotten far enough from the battlefield to not have to worry about being found, I pulled next to a rather large uprooted tree, ate, and finally, perched on top of one of the levitating bags (I'm stll mildly surprised the enchantment was strong enough to carry me.)  and set to trance, wrapped in two travel cloaks.
For reasons I can't possibly fathom, I dreamt that our old lab in Ezzebek was a bakery, and that myself and Mistress Aunisstra were attempting to bake the "Brioche of Doom". I vaguely recall it being rather tasty.

Morning announced itself with a light rain that rudely interrupted my trance (Thanks Goddess Gorion didn't have his cloak on - his was enchanted against taking in water, while mine wasn't). I spent about half an hour preparing combat spells in case I stumble upon something with a taste for drow flesh, then pulled out the map and attempted to orient myself.
Needless to say, the map was poorly drawn, and I ended up stumbling around  in desperate search for a recognisable landmark. As I was about to give up, I noticed a suspicious noise from behind. Before I could turn around and react with appropriately lethal force, I heard possibly the first bit of good news today.
"Don't hex me, Burmy! It's me, Imoen!"
[spoiler][/spoiler]

"See I followed your tracks, found his body along with what, five others? First I thought they got you too, and then I noticed your boot tracks. I'd recognise those anywhere. Gods, Burmy, I'm glad you're alive."
"Five others? Lemme guess, there wasn't any corpses in armour plate, was there?"
"Nuh-huh. Two ogres, and some folk looking like bandits, but nothing like that."
"Thought so. Means that tin-can moron is somewhere out there, possibly looking for me.  We have to.. uh, say, if I gave you this map..."
Imoen snatched the parchment, looked at it for maybe thirty seconds and then smiled.
"Awesome. There's a road about a mile east we can take to either Beregost southwards or Friendly Arm north." How the hell did she figure it from those ugly scribbles I have no idea.
"Friendly Arm it is - even if Gorion's buddies don't show up, it's still a damned castle. Lead the way."

The road announced itself by the presence of a short, wide man dressed in ragged clothes (Goddess, notice a trend? It's the arse of the world here, I tell you.).
[spoiler][/spoiler]
[spoiler][/spoiler]
"Hermit, eh?" Either the man was a very deceptive bandit or a very lucky idiot, and given his lack of reaction to me being a drow, I'm betting on the second. "Regardless, you were saying somthing about two folks around here. What did they look like, and where can I find  them?"

"Uhm, if you really want to, actually, they weren't particularly nice folks, see. The short one teased me, and the tall one just laughed and made these odd whiny noises. That's the two of them, see. A short one, looking like a warrior, and a tall one, in a green robe looking like a nutcase."

"I see. Well, best of luck on your travels, dear 'hermit', because just looking at you tells me you'll need a crapload of it."

The 'hermit' snorted with disdain, and mumbled something but we were already too far ahead to hear it.

If there was one good thing about the fellow we met earlier, it was his descriptive ability - the pair idling on the road ahead matched his description as well as it went.
[spoiler][/spoiler]
Before I could get a word of greeting in,  the tall and insane looking chap stretched his face into the sort of a grin that generally accompanies cases of hard paralysis (Such as that caused by Shivering Touch).
[spoiler][/spoiler]
[spoiler][/spoiler]
[spoiler][/spoiler]
"That's a cute routine the pair of you have there, that said, I wouldn't mind some company. Especially if those acquaintances of yours pay well."

"Sure enough they do. Ye think I'd want to keep with the corpse-botherin' nut  if they didn't?"  The shorty caught on quickly. 

"Corpse-bothering? A fellow necromancer, by any chance, or just a man with unusual tastes?"

"You are correct, young lady of charcoal cheeks." , the mage said, then giggled in a high-pitched voice that sounded nothing like his actual speech.

"Come on, Burmy, do we have to waste time with sickos?" Imoen didn't sound particularly impressed with his joke, and I gave him a rather nasty stare.

"But yes, I am a necromancer. Xzar, master of death and life.. life and death.. no. Xzar, master of death, life and death, at your service."

"'s right. Never enough death, as long as it's the right people dyin'."

"In that case, it's settled. With two conditions - if I help you out, I and Imoen get half the profits, and we're going to the Friendly Arm first, because that's where I was off to in the first place. Take it or leave."

"An astute choice, oh sable-skinned stranger."

"Smart people's the ones makin' smart choices, that's right. Now we better be on our way, coz' money's waitin'"

We set off, walking the open road - any assassin daring to approach a group of four including these rough fellows would have to be a moron of the lowest sort, and I took two such out alone already.

The day wasn't particulary eventful asides from the occassional wolf...
[spoiler][/spoiler]
[spoiler][/spoiler]
....gibberling....
[spoiler][/spoiler]
... or another sort of gibberling...
[spoiler][/spoiler]
but we managed to fight, walk or talk our way past the lot of them.
[spoiler][/spoiler]
"Like I wouldn't, you little rothespawn. The light is giving me a headache, my feet hurt, and I think I sprained my wrist stabbing that slobbering webknot, but you don't hear me complaining, do you?"

"Not in the slightest, oh sable sourpuss." the necromancer intoned with an ornate voice resembling the chanters back at Candlekeep.

"Good one, Xzar!"  Behind me, Imoen giggled.

"Go fuck a rothe, both of you."

Of course, before I could ponder the idiocy of my companions further, we ran across yet another idiot.

A whiny little hunter, looked like a half-elf or some such bastardized rotheshit. Goddess, these elves will breed with anything. I mean, I can understand one of them wanting to have a bit of fun with a slave, but actually producing offspring like that? And yet, they call us names. Sheesh, the gall.
[spoiler][/spoiler]
"Well said, Imoen. We don't have time for a webknot cowed by a wolf or a gibberling, do we, Xzar?"

"Not at all, my sooty sovereign."

"'s right. Now, fuck off.", Montaron joined in, and the sputtering shite (Goddess, I have picked it from Xzar)  finally got the hint.

Now, in a story you'd probably expect us getting our backsides nibbled by something particularly large and nasty as some sort of humorous comeuppance, but luckily, life isn't a dumb story (though at times, mine feels like written by someone two parts stupid and one part sadistic), and as such our way through  the forest was at least peaceful.
[spoiler][/spoiler]
Yep, that's our map, scribbles and all. And yep, eight hours of stupid, stupid marching through stupid forests, during which I thanked Lolth for my good old boots after my attempt to ride on the calmly floating luggage resulted in a ripped dress, a few bruises, and gales of laughter from the crop of crap travelling along me. Worst of all, Montaron actually climbed on and successfully rode our food supplies, making fun of me until a well-aimed fist in his small filthy face dropped him into nettles.
Be like be, we made it whole in body, and some of us in mind, before the fortress inn bearing the name of Friendly Arm.

Fortunately, the guards didn't give us any particular hassle.
[spoiler][/spoiler]
Suckers, I know.

It was fairly dark already, so I was leading the way once again.
[spoiler][/spoiler]
"Pfft, webbed pits, Xzar... I don't know whether to hug you or punch you."

"Hug him. It's worse." Montaron grunted from somewhere behind.

What can I say, I punched them both.

"Don't break the wizard, Burmy! He's cracked  plenty enough already.!"

"He'll live.  That said, let's move it -  there's warm dinners and warm beds awaiting the lot of us, and seeing it happen a few feet ahead like this is bloody killing me."

Well, it turned out that the wait wasn't alone at the task.
As we came around the keep's stairs, Imoen got cornered by what initially appeared to merely be a harmless creepy moron.
[spoiler][/spoiler]

"Dodge, Im!"
The webknot barely finished mumbling when I noticed the tell-tale signs of him  attempting to cast a spell. Luckily, I wasn't the only one.
"Ye be goin' down, fucker!" Montaron leapt towards our assailant as far as his little legs could manage, and his sword (or rather, an oversized dagger) became acquainted with the man's kidneys.
"I unleash the RABBITS OF DOOM!"
The shout came from Xzar, flailing around wildly,but the vaguely rabbit-looking sprite that hit the already reeling man in his chest showed he apparently knew what he was doing.  At this point, the waste of a skeleton was coughing blood, but his resilience has to be commended.
"*cough* Inconsiderate rabble ... I   *cough*  runes of Cyric, and by *gargle*  power I seal their senses!"
He spread his arms and I could see Montaron began to babble incoherently , and wander around as if drunk. Before he could get another one off, I plunged my dagger under his arm, and Imoen's found its way into his spine.
"Hchh...."  Just as he was about to topple, probably in agony, and lacking consciousness already, his head separated from his neck, and  fell on a large rock embedded in the dirt road with a crack.
[spoiler][/spoiler]
"Bless you Helm, good people. Is anyone hurt?"
One of the inn's guard, a tall man with a bushy black moustache and eyes improbably far apart on his wide forehead wiped his sword into his trousers, then put it back into the scabbard.
"Goddess, what a timely intervention. Mere moment later, and you'd have been dealing with a corpse. You truly are tremendously skilled."
"Eager to help, ma'am. I leapt to yer assistance as soon as I heard the noises. If ya ever need anything, I'm some Corporal Locke." Sarcasm was clearly a minced oath as far as this young man was concerned, so I left it at that.
[spoiler][/spoiler]
I ruffled through the man's belongings. There were a few arcane scrolls, which I pocketed, a whole bunch of gold, which I pocketed , a letter, which I pocketed, and a staff which.. No. I left the staff to Xzar because it was worthless.

We made our way into the inn, and while Imoen busied herself chatting with a couple strangers, and no doubt ogling their wallets...
[spoiler][/spoiler]
... I made a beeline for the barkeep, intent on filling my poor neglected insides with whatever was giving out such a wonderful smell.

"Evening, good sir!" Once again I tried to sound as sweet as it went, because, let's face it - drow weren't exactly the most common customers in estabilishments like these, and getting tossed out at this point would be remarkably stupid.
"Evening. What can I do for ya?" The gnome raised his eyebrows, but didn't seem exceptionally bothered.
"Well, four servings of whatever is it you have ready would be wonderful."
"Lamb stew."
"Ooh, That.. and some bread, and make them double portions, will you?"
"That'll be four gold eight silvers."  Too tired and hungry to even consider haggling, I counted out the money, and soon enough, the lot of us were making our jaws work like pull rothes.
"Goddess, and now for a bed." I pulled back from the empty bowl, stretching as far as the chair allowed me to, and at least for a few moments experiencing pure bliss. Imoen was still eating, her slow and methodic manner totally at odds with just about anything else I seen her do, Montaron was looking bored as usual, while Xzar busied himself cutting arcane symbols into a lamb bone from his portion.


Well, that was about the time I noticed them. Them, of course, referred to a pair of half-elf bastards looking all important and warrior-like.It didn't take a genius (and certainly not one of my grade) to figure out the two are likely the associates Gorion was mentioning.
Feeling slightly disheartened, I got up, and approached the sorry lot.
[spoiler][/spoiler]
"Well, that he didn't, which is probably why I have three companions by my side. But yes, he was killed when we were attacked on our way south of Candlekeep."
Neither the stuttering idiot, nor his marginally more competent-looking wife caught on the hint, and continued.
[spoiler][/spoiler]
Well, what can I say - I wasn't particularly enticed by this pair of stooges, but then, maybe they did have some contacts or something they didn't let on, and they were already going our way. After a while of weighing the fors and againsts,, my more practically minded side laid on the trump cards - they can act as pack mules when my lovely enchanted luggages won't be enough, and meat shields if we meet something nasty on the way.
[spoiler][/spoiler]
"Allright, come along."
I led the two back to the table.

"Right. . . Khalid and Jaheira, this is Imoen, Xzar and Montaron. Imoen, Xzar and Montaron, these two are the folks I apparently came here to meet with, and given they're off to Nashkel too, they'll be sticking with us for the time being."

"T-that's right, uh, hello."

Montaron looked his way like one normally looks at a pile of crap on the sidewalk, Imoen giggled, and Xzar raised his head from his plate and his now rather ornate bone.

"Oh hello, stalwart stutterer. May your sword falter less than your tongue."

"Oh, keep your mouth shut, you ... , I would call you a freak of nature, if I did not know nature does not produce refuse of your kind."

"Seems nobody was arsed to teach ye common courtesy, ma'am. That keeping yer tongue behind yer teeth 's a good way not to lose either."

Goddess. I could have bloody expected this would happen. I turned around.
"BARKEEP! SIX TANKARDS OF  ALE! AN EXTRA GOLDPIECE IF YOU MAKE IT QUICK."
While not the cheapest measure, it definitely worked - my interruption made  the four rothes lose their swing for the moment, and from then on,a couple of angry looks whenever one of them seemed eager to run his mouth was enough to keep them reined in.. The ale helped too.

Finally, I approached the barkeep, and asked for a decent room for the night.
Curling up on an actual bed this time (we took the largest room there was, and the ones sleeping on bedrolls on the floor ended up being Xzar and Montaron, of which the first one plain asked to. I don't know either.) I pulled out the letter I found on the corpse, and looked through it. 
[spoiler][/spoiler]
Once again, I felt insulted, seeing the price for my head as a measly two hundred gold pieces, though taking into account my means and all, I decided that keeping this bit of information from my present company would go a long way towards ensuring my safety.
I pocketed the letter, and digging myself in the blankets, I fell into trance.
I dreamed of trancing in a comfy bed. Am I a prophet, or what?

[VAE]

Well, after an unexpected break of half a year (Yeah, I know I suck), which I spent chasing my muse through the slovak outdoors, I picked this up, hopefully with less disappointing results.

Chapter III - A Handful of Coin

My trance was rather rudely interrupted by a screech that wouldn't shame a shrieker. Goddess. I dug deeper into the blankets, trying to cover my head without somehow leaving the rest of me to the cold outside and tried to ignore the unwelcome noise. However, before I could even think of resuming trance, Imoen jumped out of the bed, taking all the covers with her.
"Get away from me, sicko!"
"HEELP!"
"W-w-what's going on!?"
"The madman! I knew he was up to no good!"
"FOR LOLTH'S SAKE WILL YOU FUCKING DRIDER SCUM SHUT UP? WHAT IN THE WEBBED PITS IS GOING ON HERE!?" Goddess, was I pissed off, and must have looked the part too, as the bunch of slobbering morons finally ceased attempting to kill each other. I must admit, if it wasn't for the forcible interruption of my well-deserved rest, the scene would have been amusing. Imoen, just in her shirt, holding the fully dressed, and at least half a foot taller wizard by the neck of his robe, Jaheira, by the look of it about as happy as me, with her iron-clad staff already in hand somehow, Khalid's delightfully confused expression, and in the corner, Montaron, hand on his forehead and staring in disbelief.
"Goddess, why can't I even get one night of peace.. .Even you, Im? What the fuck is going on?"
"It was him, Burmy! The sick bastard, he grabbed my leg while I was sleeping...I had to."
"Did he? Let him go." She complied and the wizard folded on the ground.
"Xzar? You better have a very good reason ready, or I'll strangle you with your own damned shrieking throat."
"It..I..the hawks.. the hawks of judgement!"
It was my turn to stare.
"'s why he sleeps on the damn floor any time he gets hammered. Some 'hawks of judgement'. Got it in his mad head, they'd snatch him from anywhere higher up." In the meantime, the wizard got his wits together.. well, whatever he's got left of them.
"It is true. Seem them with my very eyes. I tried to hide under there..under the bed, but there it was, her leg. Somehow."
"Liar! Count yourself lucky it wasn't me in her pl-" Jaheira was in full swing again
"Wise words, ma'am - any folk that's got to come within five feet of ye's not lucky at all. Take care, Khalid, I hear druids roll in bear sh-"
*thwack* Jaheira smacked the halfling overhead with her staff, at which point he drew his dagger..
"That's fucking it.You, you do it again, I'll cut your skull open and put in a brain that's not made of rotheshit. And you two webknots, if you want to kill each other, feel free to, but you're free to do it on your own time and money.Behave, or fuck off!" Of course, I haven't paid them anything yet, but then, there was that sharing of future earnings from the Nashkel operation in place so it was technically true, ,besides, neither of the webknots called me on it, so it was just as good.
With grumbles and angry stares, the lot of us began getting ready.

[spoiler][/spoiler]

Thinking of it, there was perhaps one good thing to have come from the mess - the shouting attracted the attention of a dwarf woman, dressed like a mage. Odd, I thought them and duergar weren't smart enough to grasp the arcane arts. Maybe sorcery.

[spoiler][/spoiler]

"Hey, how's that our pro-" I almost bit my tongue off. "Did you say hundred twenty,  for some old boots?"
"Yep. Not a bad trade, eh?"
Goddess, now that's something, not a stupid two gold per cellar basic rate like I had to make do with in Candlekeep. Plus, given how common spiders were back at home, this was essentially free money. Of course,  I worked hard not to let my excitement show. It's kinda bad for business.
"Perhaps. You're lucky we're heading for Beregost fairly soon."

The dwarf happily left to mind her own business ,and  I went on minding mine. Well, sort of. There was a couple empty rooms here, and in at least one of them ,I could see a chest, which was giving me all sorts of ideas. You see, 'finders keepers' has always been my personal philosophy, and well, if you really think leaving something under a flimsy little lock is such a great idea, well, you must be from the   halfwit cavern, where spiders knit bedsheets.

"Think we should look around a bit, Im? I have the distinct impression someone's lack of wit might help our starved pockets."
"Hah, sure."
While the halfwits were at it again, myself and Imoen had a look through the rooms.

[spoiler][/spoiler]
[spoiler][/spoiler]
[spoiler][/spoiler]

While in the meantime, I had a look into the last empty room...

[spoiler][/spoiler]

... which had proven distinctly less empty than I anticipated. Judging by his clothes, the occupant of the room was a noble, while judging by his reaction, he was an utter idiot.
[spoiler][/spoiler]

The stupid rothe apparently thought I, of all the damn wretches here, was his damned slave. Goddess, I thought I'll gut him like a fish. But then I thought, getting rid of the body would be all sorts of trouble here, plus the damn dwarf'd likely hear him screaming, and hmm, those pants could go for a nice buck, they had golden threading and all...
I guess he was lucky I'm so nice and considerate.
With all the self-control I could muster, I did my best to sound contrite, or at least not terminally pissed off, which did the job well enough. Not really a surprise - if there's one thing to know about people, it's that once they'll have a look at something just long enough to have an opinion on it, they'll keep taking  their 'insight'  for granted unless the situation whacks them overhead, sometimes twice. 

[spoiler][/spoiler]

. . . Ugh.

I met with Imoen by the staircase.
"Anything worth it?"
"No luck. Those locks wouldn't budge, and the one unlocked cupboard had crap they'd have to pay me to haul away. You?"
"Well. . .got a handful of coins and some trousers that'll sell for more. Let's say there are people here so stupid they should slither instead of walking."

In much the similar manner, we had a good look at the floor below, usually with me dis- er, entertaining the residents while Imoen had a good look at the contents of their rooms.

[spoiler][/spoiler]

"I could ask the same of you. Room inspection, we're looking for individuals who have not paid their stay. May I have your name?"
"What in the nine hells? You dare to accuse Baronet Rotschild of staying at a lousy inn without paying!? I could buy this damn place with your lousy short master and yourself! Out! OUT!"

There clearly is such a thing as being too dumb to scam. At least Imoen found a few gold pieces lying on the floor near his bed.

In other places, it went even worse . . .
A stupid little peasant, one of the few humans I have seen shorter than most drow, with a face full of pockmarks and spiky hair. A spiderarse like painted, of one of those spiders with fake eyes all over their bum.

[spoiler][/spoiler]

From behind me, Imoen gestured she's done looking through. 

"I bet being strangled by someone about to be barred from the Friendly Arm is far, far worse, especially  since I have five witnesses on my side. But it's not like it'd be worth the bother. G'bye."

The spider buttock spat on the floor as I left, and I began to ponder how hard would a curse to turn his ugly mug into a bunch of spinnerets would be, when I heard a whistle coming from the room next.

"Ladies! You over there! Interested in helping yourself to some easy coin?"
"And you, sir, interested in helping yourself to a set of strangulation marks?" Well put... but then, Im's been learning from the mistress of the trade.
"Most certainly, as a gift to an acquaintance of mine."

[spoiler][/spoiler]

"And you're a queer lady, but that bow and attitude makes me think we can reach an agreeable agreement."

The room's resident was a dwarf with incredibly bushy, greasy hair, a squint that made one wonder how is he even able to see , and loose linen pants he had to hold up with his hand. All in all, calling his appearance "queer" was an understatement analogous to calling fresh webknot harvesting unhealthy. He blew his nose into a handkerchief producing a noise not unlike a mating rothe.

"Ehm, sorry, got a bit of a cold. But allow me to introduce myself. Name's Unshey Rocksmasherson. Or Uncius Maximus. Or Peter Unsea, if you have heard. . ."  I guess the vaguely annoyed look I shot at him was sufficiently informative.
"Oh. You haven't." He sighed. "Nobody ever does."
"Get to the point, I haven't all day."
"Well..."

[spoiler][/spoiler]

"And pray tell, what does 'mighty grateful' mean?"
"Uh. .. say, a hundred gold pieces, provided you make sure he doesn't bother anyone ever again?"
"Peerhaps. We'll look into it."

At this point, I was positively beaming on the inside. I mean, the constant repetitions of it must be getting tiring, but at this point my main references had been underdark economy (Awful) and killing much smaller pests for much less cash, besides, this was well before I found out about how bad the inflation has gotten in the big cities (Even more awful).

Luckily, in the meantime my beloved companions have neither killed each other, or got us kicked out, so I herded them together, and after a hearty breakfast (at a hearty prize) down at the tavern, we walked out towards the morning sun. . . Blech. One of the things I genuinely miss about Ezzebek is the calm, soft light given out by the candleshrooms. The atmosphere's nothing like walking through a surface city - it's warmer, the air is calm, smells faintly of spores, and on the cavern roof far, far up, softly glowing shapes of various sizes and colours, changing almost daily as new colonies slowly grow, die or are harvested. No wonder the stories say Goddess took a look at the nightly sky of the surface realms and decided to do it better - in fact, as a child I used to think the changing shapes and signs all above us are her writing. Meh, the only reason I can stand here and be sickly sweet and sentimental is that I legged it before one of the insurgents sent me to a one-way trip to the pits. I wonder which dear colleagues made it through, and which ones were in on the plot. I almost miss a few of them. Come to think of it, I missed all the mass executions  too, and all the cheap corpses. Ah well... there's money to be made here  and now.

[spoiler][/spoiler]

"So. . . " I began our first operative meeting, which is a fancy way of saying yours truly trying to herd a bunch of morons towards monetary profit.
"Jaheira, while I know full well just what'd he deserve, stop staring at Montaron's neck. Xzar,  that dead rat won't tell you about money, so don't bother talking to it and listen."
"She says shut th' fuck up." Montaron helpfully translated, and at last, the wizard stopped chattering.
"Anyhow, it's simple. Someone just offered us sixty gold-" Imoen gave me a brief, knowing look. "-for taking down a rather perverted ogre somewhere near this hole of a place, and returning their belt which it hopefully hasn't defiled. I hope I don't need to spell out just how good a deal that is given the current price of leather."
Vague nods from the rest. So far so good...
Montaron was first, toying with his dagger as he spoke. "There be good couple thousand waitin' fer us at Nashkel. Ye'r wastin' time with piddly shit."
"Oh, does it mean you volunteer to pay for a week's worth of travel supplies for six out of your own pocket? Because if so, be my guest, honey."
No response. So much for getting my hopes up.
"Good. Anyone else?"
"Uh, I.." The stuttering moron.
"Goddess. What."
"I just, uh, wo-wouldn't it be f-fairer and safer t-to ge-ge-get'em a new belt? I m-mean ogres. . ." 
Before I fully realized what the idiot meant, Jaheira slapped him back-head.
"Listen, Khalid. If we did that, the ogre would stay where it is and cause more mayhem. Besides, I know a thing or two about hunting such prey." She grinned in a predatory manner and I felt a slight tinge of hope that there might be someone besides me and Im here that uses their head time to time.
"Excellent. So, if nobody's got any further-"
"Oh murky mistress."
"WHAT."
"May I keep the head?"
"Yes." Finally, a somewhat reasonable request. Who'd expect it.
"No!"
"*sigh* What is it, Im?"
"Think of the smell, Burmy! Ogres are bad enough alive."
"True, hmm. Say, you can have it if you can keep it from going off. You are a necromancer, after all." 
Xzar nodded, whispering something in an urgent tone to the rat he was holding.
"Now, if nobody else feels an urge to run his mouth and make us waste more time, we best find our new source of profit before it decides this place hasn't got enough belts."
"Oh, Burmy?" Imoen. Goddess. This was getting tiring.
"Hey, no need to pout! I just had a thought. If the ogre's a thing of here, maybe our, uhm,  friend in the guard might have an idea where it might be hiding. You know, Corporal Locke."
"Huh? Good thinking...so go find him!"
To my mild surprise,she nodded and disappeared inside the temple, only to come out in a few minutes with a smile on her face..
"If he ain't on patrol he should be in one of the long houses southwest of here. Priestess Gellana is a lovely lady." Well, I don't know about you, but 'priestess' and 'lovely' go together about as well as 'duergar' and 'enticing'. I think I noticed Xzar rolling his eyes too, but with his face, it's hard to tell what's actually voluntary.

Finding the house was easy enough to give us a bit of false hope that it might actually go well.
Imoen knocked on the door, which was answered by a young, blonde woman with equine facial features.
"Who is it?"
"Travelers. We're looking for Corporal Locke."
"Well, he's not here now, but..."
"Do you know when he'll be back?"
"No, but. . ."
"We're also looking for an ogre somewhere 'round here."
"Afraid I can't help you there but..."
"Oh well. Sorry." Im turned on her heel and was about to leave.
"W-wait! Come in! There's a bit of business..."
I gestured Im to wait, and walked in, followed by everyone else of course. Well, to be fair , it was getting a bit cold outside.

[spoiler][/spoiler]

"I recommend you look in a lunatic asylum. Let's go." On second thought, that might not work either - I mean, even Xzar wouldn't be dumb enough.
I left, slamming the door behind me, an act which was repeated by everyone but Montaron (too short), Khalid (too sheepish) and Jaheira (...).

[spoiler][/spoiler]

"What a colossal waste of-"  Time, I wanted to say, unknowing that my disappointment would soon be replaced by much greater disappointment.
"Root blight take it!" Jaheira, the voice was muffled and coming from somewhere behind me.
"Where in the pits are you?"
"Here! I . . ."
It took me a moment to notice the voice was coming from behind the door.
"Lolth's tits, what are you still doing there!?"
"I can't get the damn thing to open!"
"Goddess." Not much of a quip, I know, but honestly, your supposed ally being intellectually bested by a piece of wood with hinges is a situation that's hard to find proper words to address.

[spoiler][/spoiler]

Mentally counting to eight, and correcting any illusion I might have had about her competence I opened the damn door and let the weed hag out. From inside, I could hear the barely concealed laughter of the resident, making it known that soon we'll be the butt of jokes over half this goddess-damned land.
"How. Just . . . how? Goddess, it's a fucking door! I have seen cats open them! You hollow webknot... Did they shake you off a tree or something?"
". . .yes." Her face took on a reddish hue. "I'm a servant of nature." 
"Clearly, she is not a very demanding mistress."
And off we went, in utter silence.

***

Lacking anything better to go by, I decided on simply having a look around outside the inn's gates - after all, a dwarven writer sounded nothing like the sort of person who likes prancing around forests.
Unfortunately, the sole result of this was us being ambushed by a band of hobgoblins.
Unfortunately for them, of course.

[spoiler][/spoiler]

The first of the morons skillfully announced his position to the best archer among us, in a handy display of the Goddess's teaching about the weak and stupid weeding themselves out.

The rest of them weren't any smarter, either.

[spoiler][/spoiler]
[spoiler][/spoiler]
[spoiler][/spoiler]

After Xzar unleashed the rabbits of doom at his kidneys, their chieftain promptly lost courage, and tried to leg it. Now, I'd be the last one to say that doing so is a bad idea, but for Goddess's sake a sensible person does it when they still have some meat shields between them and whatever's trying to put an end to their existence.

[spoiler][/spoiler]

As expected, Montaron proved quicker, and his sword quickly persuaded the degenerate to cease all life functions.

[spoiler][/spoiler]

As the dust (or more likely, splotches of mud and blood.) settled, I began to raffle through the ex-goblins pockets and accessories (One of the reasons I favour wide-sleeved dresses. They roll up easily), finding a surprising amount of loot for brigands so incompetent.

[spoiler][/spoiler]

mong the items was a well-worn coppery looking ring with a couple jewel plates of similarly reddish colour. I had a look inside the rim, where the initials I.B. told me bloody nothing.

[spoiler][/spoiler]

Then, I had a thought.
With a little luck, the ring might be one belonging to our cheapskate friend robbed by goblins in these parts. And having it at hand puts me in a much better bargaining position than when she could hope to find someone able enough to kill a couple goblins while being stupid enough to do it for free - a set of requirements not hard to fill given the country's population and average intellect. Besides, even if she really wouldn't have anything at hand now, I'm a pretty agreeable person and wouldn't mind a delay or a repayment schedule, given a reasonable interest rate.

I quickly pocketed the jewel, had a word with Imoen, and off I went, towards the vision of quick profit, which quickly dissipated like most visions do.

[spoiler][/spoiler]

Yep, you guessed it, the bitch disappeared. At least Immy managed to nick a few gold pieces and a cheapo jewel from a not-so-secret compartment in her bed while the rest of them turned their backs. I guess the talk about having nothing to pay us with was a whole load of hot air. Blech.

The ring netted 60-something gold pieces, and I suspect good half of that was due to the haggling prowess of yours truly.  Not stunning, I know, but still better than what I expected.


[spoiler][/spoiler]
[spoiler][/spoiler]

Well, 50-something if we're going net, as I honestly couldn't resist the allure of aluryath wine, while keeping the dolts on my side soaked in cheaper brews in the name of good morale.

I can't remember what I was dreaming of that night, but I suspect that the warm luxury of a bedroom intent for the nobility (Which of course, I belong to. House Lazrien, remember?) filtered through to my dreams again. Goddess, one day I want to be rich enough to have a bedroom like this on my own. In a mansion of course. Everything's better with a mansion.

* * *

The next day started unexpectedly well. Chewing on my portion of scrambled eggs (Odd as it might be, I vastly prefer avian eggs to those of various large many-legged creatures from back home.), I overheard a drunk attempting to retell the story of a belt-thieving ogre to his similarly incapacitated friend, and it took all of a pint of ale to get the webknot to tell me where the pile of rotheshit took residence (east of a  crossroads south of here).

Moreso, feeling up for a little splurge, I brought the dagger I got for half a pint of 'crossbow bolts'  to an assayer, and found out that the old drunk Fuller wasn't fuller... er, full of it. Quite the opposite -  unknown to his little liquor-soaked brain, he actually handed me a small treasure that, if sold, could have had him drunk every night for the rest of the year, given his inexpensive tastes. Of course me being me, I decided to adopt the quite beautiful little thing (cleaning was included in price, at least. I mean, a hundred gold pieces? Honestly, what?) as my personal weapon, a decision which'd save my life later the day.

[spoiler][/spoiler]

It was still dark outside when we left the Friendly Arm - by Im's calculations, this meant we should be arriving at the pervert's lair at around midday, in theory, when Jaheira's power should be at its peak, in theory. If anything good came from the door incident, it was her trying to prove herself competent the best she could - to this effect, she explained her earlier remark about hunting methods in detail, and actually, persuaded me to give it a try.


The trip to the crossroads proved more exhausting than eventful, more so due to the constant conflicts between the less smart among us. The icing on the cake was Xzar coming across a set of rabbit tracks running across the road.

[spoiler][/spoiler]

Yep, you guessed it again. The idiot clenched up, persuaded we're planning to walk into the lair of a dragon, and refused to press on. At the point, I was fed up with it all, and ordered Khalid to tie the nutcase up and carry him over the shoulder until he'd calm down, a brilliant move as it reduced the stupid coming from two mouths into muffled curses and monotonous huffing, respectively. It did slow us down a trifle, but it's not like I minded a bit more relaxed pace for the two or so hours it took for the dumbard to calm down.

Of course, like everything in my life, the calm couldn't last for too long. Just as I relaxed for a tad, and my mind shifted towards planning the layout of my future mansion, and trying to decide whether I need ed a new cloak or a new dress more, a xvart leapt at me out of the bushes with a ear-rending scream and a metal spike in its malformed little hand.

[spoiler][/spoiler]

The little wretch exploited my lack of attention and leapt up, swinging its oversized needle at my neck. with the morons I was herding watching the whole ordeal with no intelligent reaction whatsoever.

However swiftly and precisely executed, the wretch's plan had a little problem,  failing to account for the, let's say, differing physical attributes of a healthy drow woman and a piddly xvart. Coming to my senses, I grabbed the squealing assailant by the wrist with my left, and stuck my new dagger into one of its surprised little eyes, which the blade entered like it was made of mushroom.

[spoiler][/spoiler]

"T-th-"
Khalid attempted to comment on the situation, but one glare from me, my dagger still dripping blood and cerebrospinal fluid persuaded him to shut up.
"A volunteer, how nice. Go ahead and have a good look through the bushes. There's bound to be more of little webknots."
"Th-th-!" He was at it again, staring at my face with a blank, dumb expression and wide eyes
"I said go, fuckwit!"
"Th-th-!" The idiot didn't budge and I was considering walking over and teaching him the meaning of insubordination when I noticed that now, everyone else was staring blankly too. Now, I got a pretty high opinion of my ability to scare morons into submission, but this was a bit too much. I began to turn over.
"Burmy! DODGE!"
"Th-th-oggre!"
I sprung forward-left as quickly as I could, when, in full accordance with my usual luck, my other shoe got caught on the dead midget's corpse and instead of an advance I found myself spread-eagled on the ground. "Goddess-!"
*CRASH*
A massive spiked club landed right next to me, splattering the remains of the xvart and spraying its stinking bodily fluids around. As quickly as I could, I attempted to roll away, vaguely realizing the futility of this endeavour as, while on my back, I briefly noticed the ogre lifting the club for another impact sure to turn me into a greasy blotch - a depressing perspective, more so if, incidentally, dying is the second of pretty much only two things your religion considers a sin.
As I tried to roll again, I felt a jab in my thigh.
Fuck. My dagger... My dagger!
Now, I think I mentioned the thing's been polished by the assayer, and given that I was standing over his shoulder while he worked, he did a rather splendid job. In a split-second, an unlikely plan hatched in my head.
Still on my back, I grabbed the dagger, turned it sideways, found the sun (easy enough as it was about midday, and it shone right into my bloody eyes.) and aimed a light blotch right at the perverted thug's face (again, easy, as it was the size of a cave spider's arse.)
It worked like a charm. The ogre grunted something I wasn't eager to decipher, and  instead of doing something sensible like whacking me with the club, tried to shield its face with one of those tree-trunk arms. I kept the game up for several seconds more, until an arrow lodging in its elbow, and a rabbit sprite shattering against its forehead persuaded the ugly hunk of muscle to reevaluate its priorities.
With a cry of "ME WILL CRUSH YOU INTO GOO", and the club raised high, it leapt after one of my capable companions who have been doing what until now.
Getting up as fast as I could, I legged it for the nearby bushes, crouched down, and fished out a hunk of enchanted quartz crystal and a striker out of my belt pouch.

[spoiler][/spoiler]

At least at this point, almost everyone's been busy getting their act up, with Montaron and Immy getting off one arrow after another, Xzar conjuring another rabbit of doom, Khalid was apparently in the process of getting his sword out or something, and Jaheira...
The weed hag was furiously chanting while waving around a handful of twigs and I realized this must b e the spell she told me about.
Goddess, don't let her fuck this up.
Noticing the ogre was turned backwards, I whacked the crystal's edge with the striker, aiming roughly at the smelly imbecille's neck. Worked like a charm. The crystal crackled in a manner that made my fingertips numb, and a small chunk broke off, glowing and crackling as it flew along the line I pointed.
The fragment hit, burning its way into the brute's shoulder with a hiss audible even through the noise, and its left hand went limp. Not much use, I know, since the club's been in the other one.
At about the same time, Jaheira kneaded the twigs into a ball, and tossed it at its feet.

[spoiler][/spoiler]

The tangle began to spread out, taking root almost before touching ground. On the other side, strong, thick weeds began to knot around the now somewhat pummeled brute's arms and legs, fixing him firmly to the ground. It let out a surprised grunt, which soon turned into incomprehensible shouting as it found out the peculiarities of its new situation, namely that it can't move.

[spoiler][/spoiler]

"Where the fuck are you going, Khalid? What are you waiting for , everyone? Finish it!"

I struck another pair of sparks, aiming roughly between the monster's legs and at its face. Nobody that  came this close to killing me has ever gotten off easy, and I didn't feel like breaking the tradition.

With a pained roar that felt incredibly satisfying, the ogre fell, arrows sticking out of its neck, chest and stomach like hair out of a spider's bum, and the left side of its face a bloody, steaming, shattered mess.

[spoiler][/spoiler]

I stood up and dusted myself intending to inspect the fruits of my labour when the full extent of the situation hit me. I mean, I almost died, flattened into a pancake all while nobody bothered with anything sensible. One'd think they were trying to get rid of me on purpose, that is if I didn't know that those with enough of a motive were too dumb or insane to do so.
"Lolth's tits... what in the damn pits were you all up to!? The ugly fuck almost made a pancake of me, and their lordships just stand there and stare off into sun's arse or something."
"Sorry, Burmy, my bowstring snapped."
"Ye told us we should be waitin' fer orders when we find th' damn ogre."
"You broke the skull! You broke the skull!"
"It takes time to invoke the powers of nature."
*gulp*
"Incredible. If incompetence bought, you lot would have no need for money."

I approached the corpse, only now fully realizing how badly it reeked. I sincerely doubt the recently deceased ever bathed, and the multitude of belts tightly wound along its waist coupled with yet more leather it wore underneath sure didn't add to proper ventillation.

[spoiler][/spoiler]

Asides from a scroll it must have stolen somewhere, and a pair of pricier looking belts which weren't completely encrusted in filth, the ogre lacked any useful property as nobody present preferred to swing a fifty pound hunk of wood as means of personal defense.
Somewhat disgusted, I detached the belts and with a quick cantrip shook off a healthy population of lice on the underside, alongside with blood and whatever else that stuck to them during the battle.
Well, at least something, though I'll get really pissed if neither belongs to the dumb dwarf.
I lifted my head to get a breath of fresh air, and began pondering whether digging deeper through its possessions in the hope of finding something useful was worth, well, touching the thing further, when I noticed some sort of a rumble in the nearby bushes.
"Fuck! Ge-"
I didn't have to finish the sentence, nor had I time to. Out of the bushes poured a genuine horde of xvarts and gibberlings, likely attracted by the dying screams of the ogre whose corpse they intended to gobble up, and no doubt intending us for a first course.
"Crap, I'm outta arrows!"
"There's plenty stuck in the ogre, duh."
"True. . .crap."
Before Im could get any closer, the first of the wave of smelly, salivating flesh was already next to her, snarling mouth wide open.

[spoiler][/spoiler]

Needless to say, its first course was a dagger point up through the soft palate.
There was more of them, though. A lot more.
"P-pull b-b-back! ma-make a line!"
Khalid. When this is over, I'll prob'ly tear him in half.
But then, it wasn't a bad idea. Getting surrounded would indeed mean we're fucked, or more accurately drooled upon and eaten.
"You heard him, pull back!"

[spoiler][/spoiler]

At least, it worked, and the wave shattered on our front.

[spoiler][/spoiler]
[spoiler][/spoiler]

In the end, even I joined in with my favourite spell, rotting and searing the already diseased flesh with a touch. . . or in their case, with a punch.

[spoiler][/spoiler]

Then suddenly, it was over.

[spoiler][/spoiler]

Well. . .not quite. See, like any collective endeavour, even battles have latecomers.

[spoiler][/spoiler]

There are circumstances when "Better late than never." makes for woefully bad advice, and as  the remaining gibberlings quickly found out, joining a battle when your allies are dead makes for just such a case.

"Ugh. Where in the damn pits do these things breed." I cleaned my hands with a cantrip. Not much point to it since the charnel touch would have caused anything stuck on my hands to decay and fall off, but it made me feel cleaner.
"Probably not far from here, at any rate." Jaheira pointed out, meticulously wiping the tips of her staff on the yellowing grass.."Blight on the face of the world." 
"Speaking of blights. . . You." I pointed at Khalid. "Where did you get the idea you're the one in charge here!?"
"I-"
"He's got military training."
"I didn't ask you."
"I don't care. It was a sensible suggestion, not an order, and it's not like you came up with anything better."
"Ye'r gettin'  big fo' yer breeches. Me blade 'as a way of sortin' out that sortta trouble."
"So does my staff with vile-"
"How very true, Montaron." I grinned, once again on top of the situation. "But anyhow, we're only together until we reach Nashkel, so I doubt it's worth the trouble. Now, let's go."
The way back to the Friendly Arm was rather uneventful,the only exceptions being an idiot kid

[spoiler][/spoiler]

and his even dumber friend Albert.

[spoiler][/spoiler]

Let's just say, the claims about his toughness were rather grossly overstated.

[spoiler][/spoiler]

Of course, the worst surprise expected us at the inn itself.

[spoiler][/spoiler]

"What do you mean, 95?"
"Well, I'm somewhat out of coin. Besides, the book's worth at least 10gp, I swear! At least to anyone who appreciates literature."
"I heard that."
"I'll pay you when it'll get published. And you surely aren't so poor that a fiver is worth making a mess here, eh?"
"Very well. I'll be back." I said slowly, then punched a wall once out of earshot.
Fucking cheapskate. On top of it all, he screwed up the arithmetic.

[spoiler][/spoiler]

That night, I dreamt of swimming in a fountain full of golden coins instead of water, which would be cruel enough of my imagination, except for some reason, I also had feathers.
Maybe I'm going insane.

The next day, we arrived in Beregost, having hitched a ride with a traders' caravan the morning. If they could, my poor feet would sing me praises.

[spoiler][/spoiler]

[llearch n'n'daCorna]

Welcome back. ;-]