Part 1
To Candlekeep of Sword Coast came a comely young lass,
Guarded through magic by the grey-beard Gorion,
A mysterious mage and musician of the harp,
Who untiring came to unlikeable Ulraunt, Keeper of the Tomes,
Seeking sanctuary in so noble a hold.
Hard words they had, till haughty Ulraunt heeded
Worldly wisdom compounded by prophesies' want,
Till at last the lord Ulraunt lamented the life
Of the somber sage Gorion for settling his course,
But gave to him quarters to sequester a queen
Matriarch for a throne of mayhem and murder
Half-goddess given flesh, a human girl:
Veraka.
The girl grew up within
Not knowing birthright's claim
Her songs could conquer men
As power and beauty came.
Gorion guarded the girl as a father would daughter,
But Veraka confounded her wise foster father
Her capriciousness crept through the Keep in her wake
While weary Keep Watchers would weather satire,
And monks were mocked and made jest of for sport.
Yet Gorion grew hopeful the girl would not follow
The grim fate foretold for those of her blood
The daughter of Bhaal did not darken his door
Her jackanapes jokery well-suited to jesters
Was a far cry from fomenting fear and mass murder
The trickster teenager might try his patience,
But he saw there was more than evil in
her heart.
The girl loved a good jest
And mastered spoken word
She studied spells with zest
And fought with bow and sword.
In her twentieth year full-blossomed and beauteous,
Veraka Cursebringer could confuse a philosopher
The strength of three men lay in long limber limbs
Whose grace was as lissome as the lithe lovely elves
Her form in fine fettle and fit for fierce fights
Matched allurement and artistry in all ways but one:
Her impish impulsiveness impaired her good judgment
No noble would note her for wisdom uncommon
Despite the keen mind she managed within.
It was in this year grave Gorion gave notice
The lass must leave Candlekeep or lose her life
For foul-hearted malefactors would find her or fetch her
Though the codger kept his counsel and couldn't say why.
She chose able chainmail to safeguard her charms
A longbow to let loose a volley of grief
A greatsword she girded, most germane for gore
Full-furnished for battle, she found her foster father
The she sallied forth, sure-stepping out
the gate.
She thought she was prepared
As she stepped through the gate
Gorion was rightly scared
As he approached his fate.
Through the dark drear of night the duo advanced
As the bright lidless eye slid behind the horizon
Till in a clearing Gorion cried calamity
As ambushers approached from the cover of trees.
A knight of black aspect now beheld the bold pair
His dread armor dark as the bottomless depths
His helmet had horns, the visor a maw
As though demon's skull did adorn his head
Sharp spikes at his shoulders, sharper than shears,
With blades on his boots and born at his arms
A terrible greatsword he took to hand
And his eyes were as cold as the slimy Styx.
His comrades were killers, two callous great ogres,
And a pair of hard highwaymen with arrows in hand,
Finally, a fair vixen of foreign features
Strong-suited in armor and standing behind
The dark knight who dared the duo to fight
till death.
Gorion straightened tall,
A fierce look in his eye,
And it was clear to all
He would not fear to die.
"Hand over your ward," the awful warrior spake,
"And no one will be hurt." He waited and watched
As moonlight showed the match in malevolent silver.
"No fool would believe your benevolence," Gorion bantered,
"Step aside and you and your soldiers will be safe."
A ghastly grin grew across the dark knight's guise
And he spoke to the sojourner with sardonic stress
"I'm sorry you seem so certain, old man."
Bowstrings stretched taut; soon battle would be joined.
Veraka verily felt juvenile and vulnerable
Yet an arrow appeared notched, archer's training apparent
She pulled the projectile along pliant string
Till the full fletched arrow length was fastened for flight
The ignoble knight's glowering gaze her target.
Before her bow sang and the battle be joined
Gorion gave order: "Run girl, get out of here!"
Veraka felt fate in her foster father's
command.
She could not see the sense
Of dying there that night
Her sorrow was intense
As she fled through the night.
On her fearful flight through the foreign forest
Veraka heard horrors of hated battle behind her
Quick spells were slung in sublime slaughter
As Gorion's great gamble played out in grief
Bandits and barbaric ogres lay bleeding
Yet the knight and his mistress stood scorched but scantly
From the fireball Gorion hoped would flatten the field.
The wily witch unwound Gorion's defenses
And the dark knight drove his blade to the death.
Veraka felt helpless as her heart held silent
Gorion's great power only granted escape
Her cold reminder of cowardice came
As she tore past the trees, her tears
flowed trite.
Veraka was not caught
The dark knight had moved on
Her life was sorely bought
She grimaced at the dawn.
Veraka made camp on the coast road to Candlekeep
She shivered and shuddered from the cold within
Her heart made heavy at the death of Gorion
And her shame for fleeing when she should remain
But the battle was behind, and her life yet before her.
As she pondered her plans in pensive appraisal
An amiable voice rang: "Heya, it's me, Imoen!"
Veraka saw stepping along the stone street
Her childhood friend, a most cheeky cherub
Imoen had picked locks and pilfered coinpurses
Now softly she had snuck from stone-walled safety
To join the jaded jester on her jaunty adventures
Yet the young one well knew her friend had been yenched
She had come to the carnage by cover of night
So she offered her service: "I saw Gorion, I'm so sorry!
I'm no fair-weather friend, I will fight by your side."
Veraka was worried her wanderings would imperil
The only friend or family left in all of Faerun
But glad of her company, she grew gregarious once more
And set out to search for signs of the sinful
dark knight.
She tried to trace her steps
To find the ambush site
She entered wooded depths
To set her course aright.
Vying with wolves and gibberlings, Veraka ventured
To the meeting of massacre, morose sight indeed
Bodies undisturbed, the dark knight did not loot them
So she knelt by Gorion and bawled bitter tears
And Imoen held her, a sisterly hug.
Yet the girl did not give herself long to grieve
She spent several hours to dig a deep grave
Together they laid great Gorion to rest
A few keepsakes she kept to continue his quest
And remember the man who made sacrifice.
The dead soldiers she scavenged for something of use
But their corpses in the clearing were carrion for crows.
With Imoen outfitted, they sought the old open road
But before a lone hour could pass, the bold pair
Came across a couple of cantankerous travelers
A sour sullen halfling with shortsword at his side
Whose glowering gaze would give gibberlings goosebumps
And a mad male magician, a star-craving human
The robes he was wearing were emerald green
And the smile that snaked across his face
was sharp.
The odd pair then did beckon
The halfling tried to smile
By Imoen's quick reckon
The two had serpent's guile.
Veraka came closer, curious of their purpose
And the robed man spoke in saccharine sympathy:
"Ho, Montaron! Two heroines on hard times;
Surely you must seek some succor from strife."
The halfling said, "Aye, two women worse for wear
Trouble must trail you to tire you so."
"Indeed, but I offer an elixir for ingestion
To wipe away wounds and will not ask for coin.
As I live, I simply long to help those in need,"
The green robed man grinned, almost ghoulishly.
Veraka said, "Verily, our vim and verve waver,
We will not refuse aid from well-wishing wayfarers."
Imoen did dismay in dubious disbelief
That her friend would fall victim to far-fetched fibs
Yet the potion she pocketed proved pure enough.
"Perhaps in polite payment you'll travel to Nashkel
Where we weathered wayfarers will seek to unravel
A mystery most dire, a mine's missing iron."
"Your conscience will guide you, like all good globetrotters,"
Montaron mentioned as an offhand remark.
Veraka said, "Sirs, I must seek out others
My father was faring to find at an inn.
If you would come with me for but a short while
We may travel as one to walk the world's wilds."
"Then let us make haste, and head for these heroes
With zero delay, for I am Xzar the zendik, and the Zhe-"
"Hold your tongue and travel for a time,"
Montaron cut in, his countenance cold.
Xzar began bickering in woebegone banter
In undertones understood only by him
Veraka came, curious why Xzar's mind was
clouded.
The four then traveled on
Along the coastway road
Xzar's mind was nearly gone
Dissent began to sow.
They camped that night after casting about the coast
One last look for the long-gone dark knight
And Montaron muttered most malevolent threats
Against Veraka and Xzar, vehement vitriol;
Imoen was now nervous to nod off near him.
Veraka grew angry with the always-arguing halfling
As she spoke to Xzar, seeking the cause of his sickness.
"Xzar, what malady infests your mind?
What magic or mischief has muddled you so, mage?"
He slowly soaked in a susurrus breath
And languidly lavished the following legend:
"Noble Xzar hails from Xanadu, zenith of power
Where wild faeries flit and wobbling worgs play.
In my seventeenth year I sought sorcery to learn
And a master mage Merlin made me his apprentice
But the sassy sword wouldn't unstick from the stone!
I left his long tutelage and lingered in Waterdeep
Seeking out spell scrolls to supplement me
Until I stole aught from the Oracle of Oghma
And the god gave me gibbering to guard his secrets
For those the creators wish to cast down, they
make crazed."
Veraka laughed aloud
At the ludicrous tale
Xzar's eyes gleamed almost proud
Within his skull-bound jail.
"I see you have a spellbook," Xzar said suddenly,
Though not once had his eyes beheld the book in her bag,
"There is knowledge I'll teach you, noble necromancy
Is a dying art. Get it?" He giggled and guffawed.
Veraka chuckled at the churlish chaff, then smiled
And said, "If it please you, I'll put forth the study
To scribe your spare scrolls till the spells have been learned
If you'll tell me more stories." She grew more merry
For Xzar had reminded her she was a jester,
His dark absurd drollery distracted her grief
So the pair studied spells and swapped stories that night
As Imoen and Montaron marked the madcap chat.
The halfling grew restless and raised a ruckus
He threatened the three with harm in their sleep
If they didn't stop talking, it tested his patience.
Veraka could stand for no more such abuse
As Montaron mirrored in her mind the dark knight
So she asked him directly, "Montaron, do you dare
To consider your keep above your companions?"
"I have no equal harlot," the halfling harangued,
"But I work best alone, so blast your all's blundering!"
"In that case, you can conquer all dangers alone
Without want of our warriors?" her tone was a warning.
"I defy every danger and bring death to any
That dare cross me mistress, and might include you."
"Why then, a black bear should prove but boring
To so great a soldier as you claim to be."
Before he could comment, Veraka Cursebringer
Laid arrow to bow and shot a black bear
Not twenty yards distant within the dark wood
In the meat of its shoulder, a wound not to murder
But berate the black bear into closing for battle
And Montaron knew he might meet his match
As it charged full fiercely to find its foe.
Veraka stood still, staring down the small halfling
He knew he must fight or his bluff be called
So Montaron grunted, "I'll play your game girl;
If I live your last longing will be for mercy
When my game plays out." Then glaring grimly
Montaron turned to tackle the charging
black bear.
He fought well for his kind,
The bear was nearly felled
Until a blow unkind
Caught him as a death knell.
"Montaron! I... I never loved you!" Xzar loudly lamented
As Imoen clucked her tongue and shook her head heavily
The companions quickly killed the calamitous bear
Now weakened with wounds it became easy prey
And they made meal of bear meat around the campfire.
Xzar said, "We should take every item of profit
From his corpse, then fling him far off of the cliffs.
It's what Montaron would want, he once told me so."
Taking Xzar at his utterance, Veraka took Montaron
After looting the body, she lifted the limp form
And tossed him towards the sea, his tale at an end.
In the cover of night, a young noble nearby
Who had just been judging whether to jump
And end his existence, espied this event;
So scared was the snob that he went sobbing home
And came never near again, except in nightmares.
At last, the tired travelers took shelter to sleep
Beneath some beech trees and bided till dawn
Then they traveled to the east to reach a crossroad
To find the Friendly Arm Inn, where Gorion's fautors
are found.
The three did travel east
The inn's comfort to seek.
An old man had them cease,
Desiring much to speak.
The old man in the road was a mystical mage
His hat, cloak and robe were red as the rose
And his bushy beard white as the bright fallen snow
With a staff in his hand and concern in his eye
He approached the adventurers, words aimed at Veraka:
"Ho there travelers, 'tis nigh unto a tenday
Since a soul has sought this road; 'tis most solemn
To walk the wilderness alone. Wandering now
Is reserved for the desperate or deranged; I desire
To perceive, if thou wilt pardon my presumption,
Which pertains to thee?" He paused for reply.
Xzar whispered, "Deranged, daddy dearest, deranged!"
Veraka spoke up, "Not to insinuate senselessness,
But how do you hold up against your own standards?
Pestering pilgrims about their prudence impolitely
Doesn't warrant one wisdom, nor is well-adjusted."
"Point taken, thy riposte answers me completely,
I denote you now as 'determined' instead.
Thou wilt find the Friendly Arm Inn to the north
Where friends shall await thee. I will waste no more
Of thy time, and cease to trouble thee travelers."
The old man took his leave, and lingered there
no more.
The old man did depart
Veraka thought it strange
They fought a few xvarts
Till the inn had come in range.
The Friendly Arm Inn could be called a keep
So great were its walls and well-placed defenses
They were greeted by guards who granted them access
To the courtyard within. They carried on calmly
Relaxed now to find fine comforts at last
They came to the entrance, when a call cut short
Their peace, as a man paced towards them with purpose.
"Hi friend," he hailed with a well-oiled smile,
"What business brings you to the bustling inn?"
Imoen muttered, "I don't like him, he might mean us harm."
Veraka replied, "We are world-weary travelers
Seeking some solitude in this secure stronghold."
The black-robed man said, "Ah, I see. I'm sorry
to trouble you, but I wonder if you've traveled
To Candlekeep, or came from that castle perchance?"
Veraka had heeded her thief friend's warning
And so said, "Candlekeep? Never heard of such a place."
The man became menacing, "I might have cause to doubt
Your words, you fit the description full finely.
Stay still, I have something to give you, don't struggle."
He cast a spell, summoning shapes of his image
To confuse the attacks his assailants might aim.
Seeing their plight, Imoen peppered arrows
And Xzar sent a spell to steal some life essence
Their efforts only ended two echoes of the enemy.
Veraka got her greatsword, and gambled on which
Of the images left was the murderous mage
With a lay to Tymora, the Lady of Luck
Veraka left it to chance as he chanted again
And before his second spell started to strike
Her greatsword gashed true in ghastly grim gore
Tearing through two arms and a torso in twain
Only bloody bits of body were left of the brigand
Xzar laughed in loud triumph at the lurid sight
Of Veraka blood-covered in conquest at the kill
complete.
They found a few fit scrolls
Among the spells she read
One message left her cold:
A bounty on her head.
Imoen fetched some water to wash off the waste
From the fight with Tarnesh, failed mage and assassin
Veraka wondered why someone wanted her dead
And if the black knight who had butchered brave Gorion
Was the same who sought her now through spineless schemes
Leaving more lackeys to lay ambushes and plague her.
Meanwhile, Xzar meandered until he made discovery
Of a ring wrapped and hidden at the roots of a tree
Veraka asked, "How came you to collect this curiosity
Or know that the novelty was nearby at all?"
"Much Madness is divinest Sense -
To a discerning Eye," Xzar did reply.
Grinning, they gamboled to Garl Glittergold's temple
Within the walls of the weather-tight inn
For a fee, the priestess proclaimed the ring rightly
To be more than bright bauble, but a friend unto mages
To let them sling spells in not seldom supply
Xzar gladly grabbed the ring and greedily wore it
His power more potent than previously.
No more deterred, Veraka dared to delve in
the inn.
The three did step within
The Friendly Arm to find
Gorion's friends had been
Waiting there for some time.
In the corner a couple had been keeping watch
For the first sign of Veraka or her fallen foster father
A man clad in mail and most adroit in melee
His sword and shield surely of no small use
Yet a needless nervousness was in his mien
And a woman was with him, she wore leather armor
And carried a quarterstaff, her countenance was calm;
The two tired trekkers were hardy half-elves.
Veraka could see this was clearly the couple
Whom Gorion had mentioned they would meet here
So she spoke to the seekers, "Friends and sojourners,
Well met." She awaited reply in full awareness.
"C-calm yourself dear, we must c-continue c-c-carefully,"
He stuttered and stammered as he stepped towards his wife,
"My name is K-Khalid. Your c-countenance comes c-close
To resembling Gorion." His wife then retorted,
"It seems a slight upon him, but I see it too."
"Jaheira, m-mind your m-m-manners! This must be the child
Gorion spoke of so often." Jaheira then said,
"Forgive my rough manner, I am called Jaheira.
Gorion does not guard you? I must guess the worst."
"It's well worse than that," Veraka said wearily,
And told the two her tale of trouble and trickery.
"We share your loss, lass," Khalid lamented.
"We were your guardians if Gorion should be gone,
But you're a child no longer, and the choice is your own.
Know that we need to seek Nashkel to nose out
The reason why the iron crisis is reaching this crest."
"You could t-travel with us a time, t-till you settle your t-trade."
Veraka said, "It seems we seek the same goal,
For Xzar is on a quest to quell the quarry's disquiet."
"My governess is gracious to give me regard,"
Xzar piped up in the petulant prolations of a preteen.
Jaheira said, "Truly? Then we shall travel together,
The better to be bolstered against blackguard's plans
Within or without." She watched Xzar well warily,
waiting.
The group did now comprise
Five with husband and wife
They sold off some supplies
And made ready for strife.
After sleeping, they spoke to some solemn sojourners
Who had need of heroes to hash out hard evils
They retrieved a rare ring robbed by hobgoblin highwaymen
Then sought out an ogre stealing sashes and belts
Jaheira tangled the brute in tough twisting vines
For she was a druid in addition to dour defender
And the brute was but a pincushion for their arrows' barbs
They gathered the girdles and stowed the cinctures
Then traveled the south trail that took them to Beregost
Fighting bandits and brutes of the barbaric races
Till the town was in view, true rest it seemed
After ambling, aching ambushes and all arrows assailing
Veraka was very keen on visiting a tavern
To drink, to sleep, to sleep, perchance to Dream
And forget the not few afflictions and fears
But trouble was to travel on her coattails and hound
her trail.
A damsel dressed as mage
Did call out in distress
It would not take a sage
To notice her duress.
The half-elf ahead had a red and pink robe
She carried a stout staff wrought with some sorcery
Her pate was prettified by pale pink hair
And her eyes were wondrous wide like a wheel of Gond.
"Hey you! Yes, you! I don't see other young heroes yonder.
A little help, please?" she pushed with impatience.
"Best not to bother," Jaheira bespoke, bugging Veraka.
"Of course, what do you require?" Veraka called.
"There's bandits! Belligerent, bedeviling bandits!
They're trying to take me for torments unknown!"
Veraka said, "Hunted by hex-throwing highwaymen?
It sounds a tall tale, to tell you the truth."
"Listen, I've love to lay out the lowdown,
But it's too late for talk, we're out of time!"
A group of grave men approached the girl
Two red-robed mages and a pair of scrappers.
"You would try to find refuge with unfortunate fools?
Your cowardice proves as deadly as your dissonant wizardry,"
The lead mage said. The daring damsel made reply,
"Fine talk for a foe who won't clarify his cause!
Get away before my new gang puts a gash in your gob!"
The lead mage hailed haughtily the heroine's party,
"You there, give me the girl! Surely you won't gamble
Your life for a stranger?" Veraka studied, then said,
"What jurisdiction justifies you hijacking magicians?"
"By my authority as a thaumaturge of Thay, we must study
Her peculiar powers, both to protect the public
And the half-elf herself, with no heed to her wishes."
"By 'study,' you seem to be suggesting 'dissection,'"
Veraka rejoined, readying bow and arrow.
"You shall not be privy to the procedure, pedestrian!
Hand her over with haste, or I'll have your heads."
"Come and claim her, if you can," Veraka cried clearly.
"If you wish to waste away for a wild mage, so be it,"
The lead mage was ready to let loose illusions
But the half-elven damsel did a devious spell
To teleport and trap the traducer for some time
away.
The lead mage now was gone
His flunkies were befuddled
But the battle still was on
The enemies' plans were muddled.
The same spell that sent away the supercilious mage
Also scattered Veraka's associates through the scene
Imoen was wide-eyed, facing down two warriors
While Khalid was cast back, with ground to cover
Xzar also appeared adjacent to murderous melee
Jaheira and Veraka stood beside the strange girl
Whose gambling gifts scattered the guardians like grain.
"Ekandor? Where did you disappear to?
Slaughter the strange pests, we'll sort it out later!"
The remaining mage commanded, and melee ensued
Though scattered, the heroes had hope to win yet
They focused their fire to kill the spellcaster
Arrows, sling bullets, and Xzar's spell bit true
The apprentice of Ekandor did die that day.
The wild half-elf spell-slinger released a color spray
That sent two soldiers swooning, as well as two friends:
Imoen and Xzar fell affected by the trick.
The two warriors were dispatched within a moment
Then the calamitous colleen came forward to speak,
"I'm really, really sorry about the ruckus just now,
But I'd be bereft of my brains if you hadn't been by!"
"Where will you wander now? Surely Ekandor will return,"
Veraka said, no small amount cross at the skirmish.
"I was wondering if I could stay with you a while,
For our mutual protection. I'm a mighty mage,
I can fling fireballs that defy description!
My name is Neera, now that we have a moment."
Veraka said, "It seems you set sail by fortune,
So in spirit of serendipity I set this stake:
If my coin comes up tails you can come along,
But on heads I will have the pouch you protect.
What say you, wild woman?" She waited a while.
"I was hoping you heroes would have me along,
But I'm desperate enough to dare my destiny
So fine, flip your coin, and we'll both be fools."
Veraka took a copper coin she carried for flipping
And let it fall flat for determining fate:
The head of a highborn had heralded the choice
Neera's gem pouch was plucked away as she pouted.
"Well fine, I'm faring to the Friendly Arm Inn,
If you churls change your minds I'll be marching there."
Neera tore away hurting with a tear trembling in
her eye.
Imoen and Xzar awoke
Cursing the careless spell
Jaheira's frown bespoke
Her thoughts only too well.
Veraka wanted an ale after the arduous adventure
She chose the Jovial Juggler since she was a jester
And after they'd all had some ale by the fire
Some stories were swapped and tongues loosened.
Jaheira pried, "Xzar, what patron or providence
Has set you the same task we seek to resolve?
I doubt mere mad meanderings moved you to make
The task your own." He took a torpid breath,
Then let loose this tale in lordly language:
"Verily, from vaunted Veldorn my travel began,
Land of loose lamias, Shangri-La of shoggoths,
Where I found wondrous work from a wealthy white wyrm
Who besought to build a temple from the bodies of bugbears.
My task was trying, as too few were to hand
To shore the western wall. And Winter was coming.
So I traveled to take more bugbears for building,
And a daft old diviner did promise me guidance
To bugbears if I would but bring her some iron
In no small total: two tons to be true.
Ever since, I have sought some sincere iron
To end my enlistment with the ignoble dragon."
Veraka and Imoen gave girlish giggles
While Khalid stared in disbelief at this silly story
Jaheira just said, "Your jests do not jive here,
I will be watching your worrisome hide."
"Your voice is ambrosia," Xzar venerated and cavorted
But Veraka became bothered by Jaheira's
bossiness.
Khalid said, "C-calm yourself."
Jaheira glared most grim
It seemed the two half-elves
Held Xzar in view most dim.
"What of your tale, tart one?" Xzar tabled to Jaheira,
"I still haven't heard who employs our hitched half-elves."
"Better mind your own business if you know what's best,"
Jaheira said warningly. Veraka wearily whispered,
"Could we please put our private matters aside and have fun?"
Imoen said, "I agree! Hey Khalid, state your story.
Don't fret the furtive facts, just tell us a tale."
Khalid, looking lost, said, "I'm no j-j-jongleur,
B-but I guess I could g-give a few facts to g-g-go on.
I c-came from C-C-C-C-Ca-Calimshan,
My father was a m-m-merchant and m-measured
The value of a m-m-man b-by his m-mercantile merit
My b-brothers were b-b-better at b-barter than me.
So I t-trained to be t-tolerable at b-b-b-battle
My t-trade was in blows, my b-barter for brawling.
I'd rather not t-talk of that time any longer."
Jaheira reached out and held his hand in hers,
A comforting glance in her oft guarded gaze.
"I'd say that your father failed to see the fine son
You developed to be; the stutter is decidedly endearing,"
Veraka said, smiling. Khalid blushed and stammered,
"Th-th-thank you I think, that's not often the view."
Jaheira stared at Veraka, studying her soberly;
She hesitated to assume she had hit on her husband
But she felt protective of her partner to prevent impure
passion.
Jaheira had grown jealous
Possessive of Khalid
It was most overzealous
Her worry had no need.
Imoen now mentioned, "You're most masterful with morals,
Tell a tale of trollops and plug-tails true, Veraka!"
Khalid spit his ale suddenly, sending skyward saliva
And showering Xzar in a sheen of libation
In surprise at the salacious suggestion of story.
"Fie on you, Veraka, for filling her head
With the lewd licentiousness of libidinous lechers!"
Jaheira shot sharply, more harsh than she meant.
"I guess you don't jest or joke much, Jaheira,"
Veraka fumed, a furrow forming on her forehead,
"If you can't stand to journey with a jovial jester
Perhaps we should part and our paths be made plain."
Jaheira's face softened. "Child, I'm too quick to chide,
Let's not chastise each other, don't change your choice.
Gorion would want us to guard and guide you,
My sting comes of too little sleep, slave-driver,"
Jaheira made jest, her chagrin almost jaunty.
"Then I'll wrangle some rooms that we all may rest,"
Veraka sighed, stood and strode to the barman.
"I only wanted to hear some hot humor 'bout harlots,"
Imoen sulked as she sank in her seat,
saddened.
The tale of plug-tails true
Would not be told that night
Imoen did surely rue
Jaheira's prudish bite.
Sleeping in to stock spells and restore their vigor,
The five fit wayfarers fell upon a fine breakfast
At first with few words, more foe than friend
At last some lame banter began lifting the pall
And Xzar fetched a few faint smiles from his frippery.
When they dispensed with dining, they dared the road south
As the need to reach Nashkel was noted by some
But before they had been on the boulevard an hour
They observed two ominous ogrillons occupying the road;
They readied ranged weapons to repel the wretches.
The first one fell not far from where they first saw it
The two were easy targets, too large to take cover
But the second charged forward and found the defenders
A brief melee ensued; Veraka mauled the marauder
With a strike of her greatsword, then Khalid swung sure
Xzar finished the foe with some fell life drain spell.
Veraka looted a lost letter one brute had stolen
From a poor dead halfling laying prostrate on the pavement
A husband had written his wife and hired help
To send the small scroll to his Beregost residence
Veraka could carry the courier's scroll
Until she had time to take it in her travels.
For now, the group gave a good burial to the halfling
Then set out south to seek the sorrows of Nashkel's
iron.
The group did venture on
Veraka kept the scroll
Before they traveled long
A man hailed them most cold.
He was suited in steel with a longsword and shield
The crest of a red fist arrayed all around him
His helm had a plume, as red as the rest
And his first phrase was, "I'm from the Flaming Fist!"
Jaheira said, "They're like the law of this land,
I guess we can hearken." Veraka came forward
To face the frowning fighter, ready for conflict.
"Surrender yourselves, since you are the bandits
Plaguing poor pilgrims and murdering merchants!"
The man then demanded, his mien most malevolent.
"You've got the wrong girls, and guys for that matter,
We've done nothing dastardly," she diplomacized.
"Why should I believe what a bandit bespeaks?"
He bullied and blustered, still betting on blood.
"Is it really so rare for right-meaning romantics
To step the south street or seek some new sights?"
Veraka put forth; her patience was passing.
"If you'll prove your pure purpose I'll put this behind us,
But I won't let you leave till you fulfill my labor,"
He said, and his sneer and scoff were derisive.
Veraka said, "Gentle sir, a jovial jester
Does address you this day, and I do offer proof.
My craft takes considerable creativity
So I'll put a proud poem to prove my point:
There once was a Flaming Fist fighter
Whose plug-tail was shaped like a miter
The ladies would laugh
Even trollops gave gaff
When he-"
"You despicable defilers die here!" He drew steel,
And clashed in calamitous conflict to kill.
He slashed a stout stroke in Veraka's side
But the man was no match for a melee with five
Death darkened his day for dealing in anger
A blow to the bothersome but beautiful bard.
Jaheira healed her wound as Xzar howled in heady
triumph.
Xzar stowed away the stiff
So no stray folk would see
They took his gear for gifts
A jerk, they all agreed.
They later came to conflict with a crew of hobgoblins
Some hours south on the same route to Nashkel
They fought the fiends fearlessly and found modest loot
Vying with villains and varmints most varied
Until they encountered a conspicuous courtier
The nonchalant noble stepped nearer nigh them
And said, "Fine fellows, I am the Lord Foreshadow,
I see by your ensemble you'll soon set a masquerade.
I will seek out such sundries when next I attend
Lord Ribald's full dress regalia party. I reckon
I'd be the talk of Athkatla, to tell it true."
Veraka laughed, "A fellow fool finds me today.
Did Athkatla edify or enhance your excursions
And will you be wandering there again well soon?"
He scoffed, "A fellow fool, what the Hexxat mean?"
He took his leave ill-tempered and trotted
to town.
"With a name like that you'd think
He'd have some good to say,"
Veraka smiled and winked,
"Now let's be on our way."
At last the long journey had led them to Nashkel
Soldiers swarmed the streets and stood at guard
After bantering with Bardolan, burly bouncer by the bridge,
The group gained access to the grit-coated town.
They stopped by the store to sell and stock provisions
And moseyed the main street till they met the mayor
Who hailed them heartily and had these words:
"Hail bold blades, I am Berrun Ghastkill, Mayor of Nashkel,
And I seek sturdy swordarms to settle our sorrows.
I'm curious how Jaheira and Xzar came to call
The same party their purpose, but I'm pleased for your help."
"An iron maiden was involved," Xzar muttered in madness.
"If you help us to heal the hardships with haste,
I'd be glad and most gracious, gifts would be given,"
The mayor made promise. Veraka asked him,
"What's the trouble to tell true? I'm told that the iron
Is rotten, but the rumors are rampant and ruin the truth."
He sighed, "The mine is most malignant to men,
There is death and despair in the darkness below.
What iron we work is worthless and brittle
And the sad supply slows, our city is somber."
Veraka replied, "We'll reclaim the iron and reach the
reason."
Berrun said, "If you help,
You'll be the toast of the town."
Veraka was no whelp
She would not let him down.
As they pursued the path that was placed by Fate
They met a mighty man in the middle of town
His body was built like the bear or bison
A doughtier daredevil one would not deem to find
Scars snaked on his skin like the wandering streams
And his grin grew greatly when he glanced at the group.
"Stand and deliver, that my hamster shall see you,"
He said in stentorian stoutness. Veraka said,
"Has your hamster the wisdom to see our hearts?"
"Boo is my boon companion, and born of the stars,"
The man mentioned proudly. Xzar was merry with mirth.
"And what does a wanderer and his wise rodent want?"
Veraka smiled, musing the mind of this man.
"My witch was waylaid when I suffered a h-head wound,
And now mighty Minsc must needs mete out some mule-kicks!
What say you, strong soldiers? Shall we save my Dynaheir
In her hour of need from nasty gnolls to the west?"
His enthusiasm enthralled Veraka entirely,
So she said, "Noble Minsc, I say with certainty
We will find your witch Dynaheir in the wink of an eye."
"Good! We must go and give gripes, tarry not!"
Minsc smiled and stood at Veraka's side.
Jaheira and Xzar deemed this dalliance a
delay.
Minsc was a mighty man;
Evil, for him, made way.
This sudden change of plan
Did not sit well that day.
Xzar said, "It seems you seek to strain the spellcasters,
We must rest to recover our rituals and energy."
Jaheira interrupted, "It is far more important
That we move on to the mines as the mayor wishes.
If you want we can win back our witchcraft and wizardry
One night at the inn, but no more, we need to know
The cause of the chaos confounding the Sword Coast,
Letting brigands be bold in their banditry of iron
And making misery for the miners of Nashkel."
Minsc said, "Dynaheir could be dead within days!
Now some gnolls need their heads knocked
To learn some life lessons and leave alone ladies.
Come miss, we must go make malice in the mountains
For butts to be kicked and boasts made bona fide."
Veraka said, "We will settle our course when the sun
Has risen. Truth is revealed to a rested mind."
Though given to grumbling the group did gather
To seek some sleep, for spells and steady wits
But it was not to be, for a bold bounty hunter
Came across Veraka's companions and was content
to kill.
Inside the inn they found
A woman set to strike.
"I'll slit your throats like hounds,
Though its unladylike."
Veraka said, "Wait, I will want your name:
Latest on the list of lurking lowlifes laid low."
The woman snorted, "My name is Neira, not that it matters,
I've come to claim the kill and collect my coin."
Veraka said, "Neera? It seems certainly strange
I might meet more Neeras in my brief meanderings.
Is Neera a name more known near Nashkel,
Or is it my luck I'm left with loud cloying ladies?"
"Knotbrain, my name is Neira, not Neera!
The vowel is voiced less vociferously
And an I precedes the R, any amateur's aural
Ability should discern the slight switch in sound.
I wouldn't want one to think I was that wild mage!"
"So you've met her? I must say I mistook her for you
In our meeting; I made mention of a mewling mite
Noted only for nagging and nitwittedness named Neira
But it soon became blatant she was too brave and beautiful
To be the pitiful and powerless patsy oft portrayed
In the tales of transients and stories of strumpets."
"Liar! I'd lop your limbs for that slander,
Even if the contract to kill you was canceled!"
Neira fumed, and her fury began forming into
a spell.
The battle then was joined
They leapt into the fray
Neira would gain no coin
Veraka claimed the day.
